prttylight

Latest Posts by prttylight

𝐀 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

Lord! Tom Holland x Brothel girl! Reader

Warning - Virgin!Reader, Historical AU, 1800s timeline, Brothel Setting, Age Gap (Reader 18, Tom 21), Slow Burn, Smut (18+), Oral, Soft Dom!Tom Holland, Sweet & Emotional Sex, Rough sex, Paid Companionship, Emotional, Betrayal, Class Difference, First Time, Debt, Secret Relationship, Romantic Angst & Fluff.

Summary - Y/n, an 18-year-old virgin living in a brothel, has only ever watched the world of love from the sidelines. Raised among painted smiles and broken dreams, she never imagined her life could be anything more—until a gentle-eyed lord walked into her room and asked for nothing but her time.

Tom Holland sees something in her the world never cared to notice. As he keeps returning, again and again, a bond forms, tender, forbidden, and full of hope.

Will he fall in love with her?

Will she ever be free?

Can a girl like her truly have a new beginning…in the halls of Bellrose House?

-----+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+------

Completed ✓

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 : 𝐃𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞 : 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐭

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐨 : 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐒𝐚𝐲 𝐍𝐨

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 : 𝐀 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐧

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫 : 𝐂𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞 : 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐊𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐈𝐭

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐱 : 𝐇𝐞 𝐊𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 : 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐄𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 : 𝐇𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐍𝐢𝐧𝐞 : 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐭𝐡 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐔𝐬

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐞𝐧 : 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐟

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐄𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 : 𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮*

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞 : 𝐈 𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮*

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 : 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠*

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 : 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐈 𝐒𝐞𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐬

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 : 𝐈 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐓𝐨 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐱𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 : 𝐎𝐮𝐫 𝐁𝐨𝐲 𝐈𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 : 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐞

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐄𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 : 𝐀 𝐋𝐨𝐫𝐝’𝐬 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐍𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 : 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐎𝐮𝐫 𝐅𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲 : 𝐋𝐞𝐭'𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐝, 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞*

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐎𝐧𝐞 : 𝐓𝐨 𝐊𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐘𝐨𝐮, 𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐓𝐰𝐨 : 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐄𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐈𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 : 𝐀 𝐋𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐀 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫 : 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞 : 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐔𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐟

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐒𝐢𝐱 : 𝐀 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐆𝐨𝐥𝐝

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 : 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐁𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐄𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 : 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐃𝐚𝐲

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐍𝐢𝐧𝐞 : 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭*

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 : 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 : 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞

GOD TAKE AWAY ALL THE EVIL AND BAD ENERGIES FROM FRANCO AND YUKI AND GIVE THEM TO CHRISTIAN HORNER

Too Vanilla | FC43

Pairing: Franco Colapinto x Reader

Summary: Franco is very open about his past sex life - maybe a bit too much for you, which eventually makes you insecure.

Author's Note: this is super short but i got the inspo after seeing a small extract of franco on the nude project (i then proceeded to watch the entire thing even tho i barely speak spanish lol) and yeah, I'll say more in the end notes lol but iykyk😭

F1 MASTERLIST🏎

“You’re quiet tonight”, Franco pointed out. “More than usual.”

Shit, was the only word now echoing in your mind. You didn’t think you had been that quiet. Franco and you were having a peaceful night in, cuddling in bed while watching some stupid show whose laughing track was way funnier than the actual jokes.

“Just enjoying the time with you, that’s all.”

Franco knew better. He knew from the way his arms were around you, your hands on your lap and not holding his like you usually did. He knew from the way your body wasn’t entirely relaxed against his.

He just knew you.

“I kinda wanna call bullshit on that, I know you’re lying. Or at least hiding something,” he clarified.

“And what would I be hiding?”

“I don’t know”, he admitted.

And that was it. You both stayed silent for several minutes after the exchange. But now that it was out there, you could feel Franco’s eyes on you. And with the way that he was now holding one of your hands in his, his thumb gently stroking your skin? It was just a matter of time before you were spilling whatever secret you were hiding. Which you did, when you felt him hugging you a bit tighter from where he was sitting behind you.

“It’s about the videos”, you eventually blurted out.

“The videos?” Franco repeated.

“That one video where you did the put a finger down thing”, you explained. “And the most recent podcast.”

“What about those?” He asked, slightly straightening up, before muting the TV.

“Well, you talked about having had sex in a car before, and the podcast…”

“Did I say something wrong in the podcast?”

“It’s not something you said, it’s just how I felt about it.”

“Okay.” Franco nodded, still a bit confused. “Please communicate with me, how did that make you feel?”

“You were talking about pre-race sex somehow helping with your performance, because it was like– relaxing. You also mentioned that having sex on the first date was more than fine for you... And then, I got insecure about it.”

“You got insecure because I’ve been whoring around?” There were certainly better ways to form the question, but at least Franco was trying his best. “You know it all happened before we got together, yeah? I haven’t done that in a while.”

“And that’s the issue!” You exclaimed as you shifted a bit away from him, your side profile now facing him.

“What? You’re saying you’d want me to do those things again?” Safe to say, he was lost. “I'm not sure I get it, what’s the real issue regarding us?”

“The sex, Franco!” You had raised your voice a bit, immediately regretting it. You moved again to sit cross-legged, now actually facing him. “Or more like the lack of it.”

“And that’s the issue because…?” He encouraged you to keep going, still not getting your point.

“Because I’m not having sex with you?” You tried to make him understand. “Because I will probably never have sex with you? Because everything between us is just too vanilla – even more than a middle schoolers’ relationship?”

You expected any reaction from Franco, literally anything. Except him laughing. But that’s what he was doing right now. He had just bursted out laughing.

But you weren’t laughing, far from it. You were just looking at him, widened eyes at his reaction.

“Oh my… oh God…” Franco did his best to calm down, slowly breathing in and out to stop laughing. “Since when is the lack of sex in our relationship an issue? You never brought this up before.”

“I mean, we did talk about it when we got together.”

“But still, I thought we were on the same wavelength? Why is this so important to you all of a sudden?”

“It’s not like– important…”

“Kinda seems like it is”, Franco interrupted.

“Okay, maybe it is. But it’s just that– like– yes, we had agreed that it wasn’t necessary between us… but just watching the podcast and seeing you talk about it, seeing people comment on it–”

“Fuck the comments.”

“Yeah, I shouldn’t be paying attention to them…” You admitted. “But I just got in my head, and then I started overthinking…”

“And you thought that us not having sex had become a problem for me? Without asking me what my actual opinion was?”

“Bingo,” you confirmed with a dry laugh.

The silence settled once again between the two of you, but it wasn’t as heavy as earlier. Franco took your hands in his, squeezing them in reassurance.

“How much of the podcast did you watch?” He eventually asked.

“The segment of you talking about pre-race sex, obviously.” You rolled your eyes at him as your voice was full of sarcasm. "And the sex-on-the-first-date moment.

“But did you watch what I said after?”

“Yeah, a bit.” You tried to recall how long the extract had been. “The whole thing wasn’t entirely subbed so I didn’t actually watch everything but–”

“So you remember what I talked about after that?” Franco waited for you to nod before he continued. “About the difficulty of creating real bonds with people, finding a connection, something that matters… That’s you”, he claimed. “You’re the person with who I share an actual bond. The person who I know is here for me, who loves me, and who I love back. What’s between us is precious, something I wanna cherish and care for until you’ll stop having me.”

“I’ll never stop, though.” You tried to avoid Franco’s gaze, ashamed of having doubted his feelings.

“Well, I hope so.” Franco squeezed your hands once again, before he let go of them to cup your face and wipe your cheeks. “You shouldn’t be crying because of me.”

“Bro”, you said with a deadpan tone. “You’re out there declaring your love for me and I’m not supposed to cry?”

“When you say it like that…”

He laughed. But this time, you enjoyed hearing it. And it made you laugh too.

The situation shouldn’t have been a laughing matter – not for most people – but still, you were laughing together. Then, Franco leaned in, his hands still on your cheeks. You leaned towards him as well, and he closed the space between you to kiss you.

For every insecurity you would ever have, Franco would be there to appease them. And for every dumb insecurity like this one, Franco would just have to remind you that the ‘vanilla’ relationship between the two of you was worth so much more than any pre-race sex he could ever have. And maybe he would also remind you that despite not having sex, the make out sessions between you two were sometimes far from being vanilla.

..........

Ok so this one's a bit more personal than others (not counting that one logan fic in which i poured my heart lol)

Ik there's this franco persona we all see as being the epitome of no pr training bc bro is sharing loads of private stuff - and it ain't even that deep tbh like he's just a guy🎀 (btw i did watch the entire pod which was super interesting bc i didn't know that much ab franco before f2 so i recommend!!)

But yeah, this one's for my ace girlies out there who, like me, might think that it's impossible to find love bc most people will expect sex in a relationship💜

This was just a short n' sweet fic that i thought went well w franco (who's the green flag we all need in our lives) - mostly written for my own mental health bc i needed some self love & reassurance🤍

Thanks for reading<3 I'll see you soon, take care of yourselves, i love y'all xx

𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐞𝐝 | oscar piastri × fem!reader

summary | you meet oscar by chance, and one race turns into something much more

warnings | fluff, mild swearing, romantic tension, kissing

word count | 1.1 k

You were never someone obsessed with racing drivers. You didn’t collect posters, you didn’t know the names of every circuit, and you never imagined yourself dreaming about gasoline and adrenaline. But it only took one race to change everything. For him to change everything. Oscar Piastri.

At first, it was casual. You were at a friend’s house watching the Monaco Grand Prix just to be polite. And there he was—calm, young, with a kind of presence that doesn’t scream for attention but is impossible to ignore.

You started following him. At first under the excuse of “trying to understand the sport.” Then it was interviews, then TikToks. Then came the secret Twitter account for updates, and finally your first live race. Silverstone.

The air smelled of burnt rubber and excitement. Your hands were trembling. You had won a McLaren giveaway for an exclusive meet & greet. You didn’t know what to say to him, how to act, whether to smile or freeze completely.

And then you saw him.

He saw you.

Oscar was talking to someone from the press when your eyes met. It wasn’t the look of a star at a fan. It was fleeting, curious... as if he too was wondering if he’d seen you before.

“First time in the paddock?” he asked when it was finally your turn. His Australian accent was even more charming in person.

You nodded. You swallowed hard. You weren’t sure whether to shake his hand or just stand there awkwardly. You somehow did both.

“I’m Oscar,” he said, like you didn’t already know exactly who he was.

“I know,” you replied, and instantly regretted how obvious it sounded.

He smiled. That kind of smile that shows up when someone wins a silent battle. And you noticed how his gaze lingered on you just a little longer than it should have.

“Are you enjoying the race?” he asked.

“Very much. Though… I still don’t fully understand the strategies. Sometimes I just hope you don’t crash.”

He laughed. A genuine, soft laugh.

“Well, that’s what I’m hoping for too.”

Before he said goodbye, he took your cap. And with a marker, he wrote on the brim:

"For the girl who made me laugh before the race. O.P."

He handed it back with a wink.

You went home with your heart racing faster than any car on the track.

You didn’t expect more. It was a moment. A fleeting second among thousands. But a month later, you got a notification:

@oscarpiastri followed you.

And then a message.

Oscar P.: “Would you like to come to Monza as a McLaren guest? I’ve got a spare pass…”

You nearly dropped your phone. You hesitated. Was it real? Was it a mistake?

But you went. Of course you went.

Monza, Italy.

The speed of the cars didn’t compare to the speed of your heart as you stepped into the McLaren hospitality. And there he was, dressed in team gear, relaxed, as if he’d been waiting for you.

“I thought you wouldn’t come,” he said, adjusting his earpiece.

“I thought it was a joke,” you admitted, shrugging.

He smiled. This time, slower. More… interested?

“What do you think now?”

“Now I’m worried I might be enjoying this more than I should.”

There was a silence that hung between you, but it wasn’t awkward. It was heavy. Like he felt something too, something neither of you could quite name.

The race was a whirlwind. You watched him drive, watched him gain positions, watched him so far away and yet somehow so close.

And at the end, when he returned to the hospitality still sweaty from the race and buzzing with adrenaline, the first thing he did was look for you.

“Did you like it?” he asked.

“A lot. Although…” you hesitated. “I think what I liked the most was seeing you happy.”

Oscar blinked. Then looked down, almost like he was trying to hide something.

“Want to go for a walk tonight?” he asked. “No F1. Just you and me. Italian pizza and a city that doesn’t sleep.”

You felt like the ground was disappearing under your feet.

“Yes,” you whispered. “I’d love to.”

That night.

Monza under the lights was magical, but walking beside him made it feel even more surreal. You talked about everything and nothing. About what he liked to cook when he wasn’t racing. About your favorite books. About how strange it is to have thousands of people watching you, but still feel alone.

“Sometimes I feel like no one really knows me,” he confessed, sitting beside you on a bench. “Everyone sees me as the driver. The quiet guy. But they don’t know who I am when the helmet comes off.”

You looked at him. Not like a fan. Not like someone who idolized him from a screen. You looked at him like someone who had felt that too—the weight of pretending to be okay.

“I want to know you,” you said, almost without thinking.

Oscar looked at you. This time, with no walls. No filters.

He leaned in.

And when his lips brushed yours, there were no fireworks. There was peace. There was that feeling of everything falling into place.

“I don’t care if this is weird,” he murmured. “But with you, for the first time in a long time… I don’t feel alone.”

He kissed you again. Slow. Gentle. And you knew no podium would ever compare to that moment.

Days later…

The relationship became the perfect blend of secret and sincerity. You didn’t tell anyone. You didn’t need to. There were glances exchanged at circuits. Messages at midnight. Calls between training sessions. And even though you weren’t a driver, every time you were with him, it felt like you were racing toward something worth it.

One night, before another big race, he wrapped his arms around you from behind as you stared at the lights of the paddock.

“What are we?” you asked softly.

Oscar rested his chin on your shoulder.

“You’re my escape. My calm. And if you want… we can be something more.”

“Something like what?”

“Like what no one finds on a racetrack. What you don’t win with speed, but with time.”

You turned around, looked at him. And for the first time, without fear, you said:

“Then let’s take that time. But promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“That when you finish a race… the first thing you’ll do is look for me in the crowd.”

Oscar smiled. He kissed your forehead.

“Always.”

ill be back in ten, okay?

Oscar Piastri x PCOS!reader

(low-key a part 2 to this, but can be read separately)

summary: oscar sneaks in to check on reader during a pcos flare-up.

warnings: pcos mention, chronic pain

A/N: (ive had this lined up since after ur last req and i’m posting it now) no one asked for this but this is my new favourite thing to write. so ENJOY :> i keep saying this but y’all if u’ve got requests for ANY driver, please, feel free to send them in. any scenario. i’ll try to make it possible. i love u, babies 🤙💋

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you’re curled up on the motorhome couch with a hot pack pressed against your stomach and oscar’s hoodie swallowed around your frame. the pain has mostly dulled into a low throb, and now you’re just… tired.

the paddock noise hums outside, muffled behind the tinted windows, and you assume oscar’s back at work. qualifying starts soon. he’s probably in briefing.

you don’t expect the soft creak of the door.

you glance up.

he peeks in with the most ridiculous look — wide eyes, slight smirk, finger to his lips like he’s sneaking into a forbidden zone.

you raise an eyebrow. “aren’t you supposed to be working?”

“i am,” he whispers dramatically, slipping inside and shutting the door behind him. “i’m working on morale.”

you laugh quietly. “pretty sure your job is to drive the car, piastri.”

“i can multitask,” he says, crossing the room in four long steps. “and right now, the girl i love is wearing my hoodie and looking unfairly cute while recovering from a flare-up, so i had to intervene.”

he sits beside you, eyes shining, hands already reaching for yours.

“five minutes,” he says, holding up his hand. “then i’ll go back to being a professional athlete or whatever.”

you smile as he leans in, kisses you softly. it’s warm and slow, like he’s got nowhere to be — even though you both know he does.

you tug gently at the collar of his fireproof undershirt. “you taste like energy drink.”

“romantic,” he deadpans.

you giggle. “thanks for sneaking in.”

he kisses your cheek. “i’ll always sneak in for you.”

and when he finally stands to leave, he pauses in the doorway and turns back with a grin.

“might be back in ten. can’t promise anything.”

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hey! osc and pcos!reader here !! thank you so much for writing about it. brings me a lot of comfort and makes me feel seen. you can obviously wait a bit to write this one but maybe osc with pcos reader where he just completely takes care of her like applying heating pads and giving her massages

- 🧸

certified uterus whisperer 🌬️

Oscar Piastri x PCOS!reader

summary: oscar takes care of pcos!reader cause he’s a lil sweetheart

warnings: pcos mention, chronic pain

A/N: i’m so glad u’re enjoying these and can find comfort in them, i literally have two more for pcos!reader lined up (without a req) because i love it so much. thank u for requesting as always, u dk how much i appreciate it :) all for u xx LOVE U BABY ❤️

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you wake up feeling like a truck ran you over. twice.

your body is heavy. your lower back is already aching. and your stomach feels like someone stuffed it with lead and then lit it on fire for fun.

you don’t even need to check the calendar. it’s one of those pcos days.

you roll over with a groan and immediately catch sight of oscar sitting on the floor, fiddling with something in his hands.

“you’re awake,” he says, bright-eyed, like you didn’t just sound like a dying animal.

you blink at him. “why are you on the floor?”

he grins. “testing the heating pad. it works.”

you squint. “how long have you been awake?”

he shrugs. “not important. anyway. lie back.”

you blink again as he hops up and gently guides you onto your back like a nurse in a very expensive mclaren hoodie. the second your head hits the pillow, he’s already tucking the warm pad under your shirt, resting it low on your belly like he’s done this a hundred times.

“i googled the exact placement,” he says proudly. “they say right over the ovaries.”

“hot,” you mutter.

he winks. “very.”

he disappears for a second, and when he returns, he’s holding a tray like he’s room service.

a glass of water. your painkillers. a tiny bowl of cut fruit. and two chocolate-covered biscuits just because.

you stare at the tray, then at him. “who are you and what have you done with my slightly clueless boyfriend?”

“excuse me,” he says, offended. “i am incredible in a crisis.”

“this isn’t a crisis.”

he gestures to your curled-up position and murder-glare. “looked pretty crisis-y five minutes ago.”

you roll your eyes but pop the painkillers anyway. oscar sets the tray down and climbs back into bed, shifting to sit behind you, his fingers already gently working into your lower back like he knew the exact spot that hurts.

you sigh. loudly. dramatically. “i take it back. you are god’s favorite. and maybe mine”

he grins against your shoulder. “you only say that when i bring snacks and rub your back.”

“because it’s a rare combo.”

“rude.”

his thumbs press into a tense knot just above your hips, and you melt.

“where did you learn this?” you mumble.

“youtube,” he says proudly. “also the ferrari physio owes me a favor.”

you snort. “you asked another team’s physio for period cramp massage tips?”

“he thought i was asking for me,” oscar says casually. “i didn’t correct him.”

you laugh, full-on this time, even though it makes your stomach cramp. “that’s love.”

he hums, warm and low, and presses a kiss to the back of your neck.

“i know i can’t fix it,” he says softly, “but if i can make it slightly less horrible, i will. always.”

you lean into him, letting the heat and the pressure and the love soak in all at once.

and honestly?

you don’t feel great.

but you do feel loved.

which, today, is more than enough.

⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘

Favourite Moments | LH44

Lewis Hamilton x Girlfriend!Reader (Requested)

Summary: Lewis comes home to see that his girlfriend is sick, now it's his turn to take care of her.

Warning(s): Mild Language, sick!reader, no hurt just comfort, bathing together, no funny business, caring Lewis, fluffy.

"When I see your face, there’s not a thing that I would change..."

The apartment was too quiet.

Lewis had been expecting the usual enthusiastic welcome—maybe even a playful scolding for taking so long to come home.

Instead, the only thing that greeted him was an eerie silence. His brows pulled together as he set his bag down, eyes scanning the space.

The living room wasn’t a disaster, but it was....off.

A blanket was thrown haphazardly over the couch, an empty tea mug sat on the coffee table, and a bowl of half-eaten soup rested on the counter.

It wasn’t messy—just… abandoned.

A sense of unease crept in.

“Y/N?” he called, his voice cutting through the quiet. No response.

His frown deepened as he strode toward their bedroom. Pushing the door open, he found her—curled up beneath a mountain of blankets, completely still.

For a split second, worry flared in his chest.

Then—

A loud, completely ungraceful snore ripped through the air.

Lewis blinked before a quiet chuckle escaped him. “Oh, baby…” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head.

He stepped closer, crouching beside the bed. As he pulled the blanket down slightly to get a look at her, his amusement quickly faded.

Her nose was red, her face slightly sweaty, strands of hair sticking to her forehead. She looked exhausted, even in sleep.

Lewis reached out, pressing the back of his fingers against her cheek—only to frown at the heat radiating off her skin.

“Damn,” he muttered, concern knitting his brows together.

Without hesitation, he pulled the thick blanket away, murmuring, “You’re gonna overheat yourself under here, love.”

He lets out a soft breath as his eyes landed on the photo frame clutched in her hands.

It was of them—Silverstone, last year. His victory, his home race, his moment of pure joy. But what made the picture so special wasn’t just the win.

It was her. The way she had looked at him, pride and love radiating from her eyes as she clung to him in the post-race celebrations. She had always been his biggest supporter, his constant.

And now, she lay here, sick and alone, clutching that memory like it was the only thing keeping her together.

His heart squeezed, torn between overwhelming love and guilt. She must have been missing him—enough to hold onto this while she slept.

He should have been here sooner.

But first, he needed to make sure she was okay.

Gently, he brushed his fingers over her cheek and murmured, “Love… wake up for me.”

She stirred, brows scrunching slightly before her eyes cracked open. A sleepy groan escaped her, and when she finally focused on him, her voice was raspy.

“Lewis…?”

Lewis smiled softly, taking in her messy hair, flushed cheeks, and tired eyes. “Hey, my pretty girl.”

Y/N blinked at him, then scoffed weakly. “I do not feel pretty right now.” She barely finished speaking before her nose wrinkled—achoo!

Lewis chuckled just as she groaned, rubbing at her nose. “God bless me,” she muttered just in time for another sneeze to wrack her frame. “Ugh.”

“Bless you, baby,” he said, amused as he reached for a tissue and handed it to her.

She sniffled, still pouting slightly, and Lewis shook his head fondly before helping her sit up. He pressed a kiss to her damp forehead, letting his lips linger.

“You know,” he murmured, pulling back just enough to meet her sleepy gaze, “you’re always the most gorgeous woman on earth to me. Some fever isn’t gonna change that.”

Her lips twitched tiredly, and Lewis felt warmth bloom in his chest.

She had been there for him through everything. The highs, the lows, the endless travel, the exhausting race weekends.

Now, it was his turn.

He cupped her cheek, stroking it gently. “Let me take care of you, yeah?”

He sighed as Y/N shook her head weakly. “Lew, you really don’t have to. I’m okay. I already took some medicine.”

He raised a brow, unimpressed. “Uh-huh. And when did you take it?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it, then muttered, “Sometime…”

Lewis smirked. “Right. That’s what I thought.”

As he adjusted the blanket around her shoulders, his eyes caught onto something that made his heart squeeze.

The oversized pajama top she was wearing—it was his.

And not just any of his clothes, but the one he’d worn the night before he left for the factory a week ago.

A slow, fond smile spread across his lips. “Babe… is that my shirt?”

Y/N blinked sleepily, looking down as if she hadn’t realized. “Mmm.”

His grin widened. “You wore it ‘cause it smells like me, didn’t you?”

She hesitated, then mumbled, “Maybe.”

Lewis chuckled softly, warmth blooming in his chest. She really had been missing him.

But his amusement faded when another thought struck him. “Okay, and… when was the last time you took a shower?”

Silence.

Lewis crossed his arms, tilting his head. “Babe.”

More silence.

He fought back a laugh as understanding dawned on him. “Y/N…”

She groaned dramatically, burying her face in her hands. “Ugh, I knew you were gonna ask that.”

“Well, yeah,” he said, amused. “You need to clean up, baby.”

She peeked at him from between her fingers. “But it’s cold.”

Lewis gave her a pointed look. “You do know you can turn the water temperature up, right?”

She blinked. “Oh. Right. I forgot that.”

This time, he actually laughed, and she whined, flopping against the pillows. “Not fair! I’m sick! My brain isn’t working properly!”

Lewis grinned, leaning down to press a quick kiss to her forehead. “You’re adorable.”

She huffed but didn’t argue.

But then his gaze darkened slightly as another thought crossed his mind. “Alright, when’s the last time you ate properly?”

Silence.

His stomach sank. “Y/N.”

She winced. “I… ate soup?”

His jaw tightened. “When?”

Another wince. “Like..maybe yesterday morning?” she mumbled.

Lewis straightened, running a hand down his face. “Babe, it’s the afternoon. You’re telling me you went all of yesterday and this morning without food?”

“I—I wasn’t hungry…” she tried, but even she knew it was a weak excuse.

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Y/N, you can’t just—bloody hell.” His tone softened, his shoulders slumping as he reached for her hand.

“Baby, I’m sorry. I should’ve been more attentive. I should’ve checked in more than just texts. You haven’t eaten in almost two days, and you’ve been taking medicine on an empty stomach?”

She gave him a small, reassuring smile, squeezing his hand. “It’s okay, Lew. I promise.”

He hummed in response, though the guilt gnawed at him.

“I have been drinking lots of water,” she added quickly, trying to ease his worry.

Lewis narrowed his eyes. “Mhm. And by ‘water,’ you mean…?”

“…Coffee?”

He groaned. “Y/NNN.”

“Just water is boring, Lewis” she pouted.

Lewis sighed, but the look on her face—flushed cheeks, tired eyes, a small pout—made his heart clench.

Even sick, she was the most precious thing he’d ever seen.

A soft smile tugged at his lips as he leaned in, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

But she immediately pulled away, making his brows furrow. “What—”

“I’m sick, Lewis,” she said, giving him a tired but exasperated look. “You’re gonna get sick too.”

He blinked before letting out a small chuckle. “Oh, babe…” He cupped her face gently.

Lewis’s smile turned mischievous. “You really think that’s gonna stop me?”

Y/N barely had time to react before his lips were on hers. Soft, lingering, full of warmth.

She let out a tiny gasp, caught off guard, but Lewis only deepened the kiss slightly, savoring the feeling of her against him.

Even with her chapped lips, even with the slight fever burning off her skin, he wouldn’t have traded this moment for anything.

When he finally pulled back, he grinned at her dazed expression. “See? Still perfect.”

She blinked up at him, lips parted. “You’re so—”

“Devoted? Charming? The best boyfriend ever?” he teased.

She groaned. “I was gonna say stupid.”

Lewis just chuckled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Stupid in love, maybe.”

Y/N groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Nooo, that was so cringe, Lewis. Why are you like this?”

Lewis just grinned, pressing another quick peck to her lips. “What’s actually cringe is the fact that my girlfriend hasn’t showered properly for a week.”

Her head shot up immediately. “It’s only been three days!” she protested, glaring at him.

He smirked. “You’re just proving my point, love.”

Before she could throw another protest his way, her hand blindly grabbed a pillow and chucked it straight at his face.

Lewis blinked as the soft fabric hit him square on, falling to the side. Slowly, he turned his gaze back to her, amusement twinkling in his eyes.

Y/N was glaring at him, arms crossed, lips pursed in defiance.

But all he could think was how she looked like an adorable, grumpy little kitten.

“You’re so fucking cute,” he mused, just as her eyes narrowed suspiciously—

Before she could react, Lewis slid his hands under her and, with zero effort, lifted her up into his arms.

She let out a startled yelp. “LEWIS!”

He smirked, carrying her bridal-style toward the bathroom like she weighed nothing. “Right. I’m going to run you a bath.”

Y/N squirmed in his hold, her hands gripping onto his shoulders. “Lewis, oh my god, put me down!”

He only grinned, ignoring her protests as he stepped into the bathroom, gently setting her down on the counter. “Mmm....nope.”

She huffed, crossing her arms. “I can do this myself, you know.”

Lewis turned to the bathtub, twisting the knobs to run warm water.

“I know you can. But I also know you’ll probably just sit in here, sigh dramatically, and then give up after five minutes because you’re too tired.”

Y/N gasped. “I—okay, maybe. But that’s not the point!”

Lewis chuckled, turning back to her, his eyes softening. “Let me take care of you, let me carry you around, let me pamper you love, please.”

She bit her lip, cheeks still flushed—probably from the fever, but also, maybe, from the way he was looking at her.

Gently, Lewis reached for the hem of her oversized pajama top—his shirt—and began tugging it up. “Arms up, baby,” he murmured.

She hesitated for a moment, then slowly lifted her arms, letting him pull it off.

The fabric slid over her head, and Lewis couldn’t help but smile as he caught a faint whiff of his own scent lingering on it. She really had been missing him.

His hands moved to the waistband of her pajama shorts, and his fingers brushed against her warm skin as he pulled them down.

His touch was careful, unhurried, full of tenderness rather than anything else.

Y/N shivered slightly—not from cold, but from the way he handled her like she was the most precious thing in the world.

Lewis pressed a soft kiss to her bare shoulder before stepping back to check the bath.

He swirled his hand in the water, making sure it was the perfect warmth. “Alright, in you go.”

Y/N, still groggy but utterly wrapped in his care, slid off the counter and into the water. The warmth immediately made her sigh, her body relaxing.

Lewis knelt beside the tub, reaching for a cup to gently pour water over her shoulders. “Better?” he asked softly.

She let out a small hum, leaning her head back slightly. “Much.”

Lewis smiled, brushing damp strands of hair away from her face. “Good. You just sit back and let me do the work, okay?”

Lewis didn’t stop at just running her a bath of course.

Without hesitation, he reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head, tossing it aside before unbuttoning his jeans and stepping out of them.

Y/N blinked, her sleepy gaze sharpening slightly as she watched him. “Uh… what are you doing?”

Lewis smirked, stepping into the tub behind her. His muscles relaxed instantly as the warm water enveloped him, and he let out a quiet sigh before wrapping his arms around her, pulling her back against his chest.

“As i said, I'm taking care of my girl,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her damp hair. “Like she always takes care of me.”

Y/N melted against him, resting her head on his shoulder. She didn’t fight it—not really. Maybe she was too tired to, or maybe she just liked being held like this.

Lewis closed his eyes for a second, just breathing her in, before reaching for the soap.

As he lathered it in his hands and began to gently wash her arms, he couldn’t help but think back to all the times she had done this for him.

When he came home after brutal races, drained to the bone, his mind weighed down with the heaviness of bad weekends. When his body ached, when exhaustion clawed at him, when self-doubt threatened to creep in—she had always been there.

Running a bath for him. Massaging his tense shoulders. Holding him when he needed it, even when he didn’t say a word.

She had always known exactly what he needed.

Now, it was his turn.

“You’re always so good to me, baby,” he murmured as he ran the soapy water over her shoulders, his fingers kneading gently.

Y/N let out a small sound, barely awake, but he felt the heat rise in her cheeks.

Lewis smiled, trailing his hands down her arms. “So caring. So tender when I need it.” His voice was soft, full of admiration. “You’re my rock, love.”

She let out a tiny whimper, clearly flustered. “Lewis…”

He chuckled, pressing another kiss to her temple. “What? Just telling my girl the truth.”

She huffed, but he could feel her heartbeat against him, steady and warm.

Y/N shifted slightly in his arms, turning her head just enough to give him a pointed look. “No funny business, Lewis.”

Lewis chuckled, resting his chin on her shoulder. “Baby, I know how to get you all hot and bothered,” he teased, nuzzling into her neck.

“But this? This is not the time. I don’t want you to sneeze of all things when I’m inside you. That’s a major mood killer.”

She groaned dramatically before splashing water back at him in protest.

“Oi!” He laughed, shaking his head as the warm droplets hit his face. “See, now that’s just rude.”

She smirked sleepily. “Serves you right.”

Lewis only grinned as he reached for the shampoo bottle, squirting a generous amount into his palm. “Alright, alright, no funny business. Just me looking after the most important woman in my life.”

He ran his fingers through her hair, lathering the shampoo with gentle, slow movements. His fingertips pressed into her scalp, massaging in small, soothing circles.

Y/N let out a small sigh, melting into his touch.

Lewis smiled to himself. “Feels nice, huh?”

She hummed in response, eyes fluttering shut.

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. “That’s my girl.”

Lewis gently scooped a small cup full of water and poured it over her hair, watching as the suds slid down her long, damp strands.

The shampoo washed away in soft streams of water, and he couldn’t help but marvel at the way her skin glistened, the way she melted under his care.

“You’ve always been there for me, you know?” he murmured softly, his voice sincere.

“When I’m sick, when I’m exhausted, when I feel like I can’t go on… you’re always the one to look after me, to make sure I’m okay.”

Y/N’s eyes fluttered closed at the feeling of his hands in her hair. She smiled softly. “I do what I can.”

He smiled, brushing her hair out of her face. “Yeah, you do more than that. You’re always so damn good to me, my love.”

As he rinsed the soap off her body, his touch was slow, methodical.

He made sure every part of her was cleaned, moving down her arms, her sides, careful not to make her feel uncomfortable, just focused on how she deserved this kind of attention.

“You know, when I’m away, racing, and I’m exhausted… I miss this. I miss you. I miss the way you make everything better, without even trying.”

Y/N’s lips parted in surprise, her heart fluttering slightly. She looked up at him, but he was focused on rinsing the soap off, so she just watched him with soft affection.

“I'm not kidding when i say that you’ve always been my rock,” he continued, his hands now massaging the soap over her back. “When I don’t have the energy to pick myself up, it’s you. You’re the one who makes me feel like I can keep going.”

Her heart warmed, and she found herself flushing slightly under the tenderness in his words. “I don’t mind doing any of that,” she whispered softly. “I just want you to be okay.”

Lewis smiled at that, his fingers working carefully as he finished rinsing the soap off her body.

He then reached for the conditioner, lathering it through her hair gently.

His touch was light, not hurried, as if savoring every moment of getting to do this for her. “You deserve so much, Y/N. So much more than I can give. But I’ll do my best to make sure you know how much I appreciate everything you do for me.”

She was quiet, her heart full, but she could hear the sincerity in his voice. It made her eyes sting with emotion, though she blinked it away. “You don’t have to do anything, Lew. I just… I love you.”

He rinsed the conditioner out of her hair and cupped her face, his thumb brushing across her cheek. “I love you more than you know.” his voice sounded a bit raw as he says it, and he clears his throat as y/n smiles softly at him.

His heart aches in the best way possible because of course, of course she knows how he's feeling at the moment.

Thank you for bringing her to my life, god.

Lewis helped Y/N out of the tub, supporting her gently as she stood. The water had gone lukewarm, and he could feel the slight shiver in her as her feet met the cold tiles. With a soft chuckle, he scooped her up in his arms again.

She shivered slightly, letting out a small squeal when he set her down on the big counter, her legs dangling off the edge.

"My ass is freezing!" she complained, her bare skin immediately feeling the cold of the counter.

Lewis laughed, wrapping a towel around his waist as he reached for another towel to dry her hair. “You're being dramatic,” he teased.

She pouted, not having much energy to argue back, as she let him gently rub the towel through her wet hair.

When he took the towel away, she shook her head furiously like a dog, sending water droplets flying everywhere.

Lewis chuckled and gave her a playful smirk. "You're no better than Roscoe, you know that?"

Y/N squinted at him. "What does that mean?"

"Just reminded me of him,” he said with a grin, “Shaking water all over the place like it’s his job."

She laughed softly at that. Lewis smiled, giving her another fond look. “Speaking of Roscoe, where is he?”

“He's in the guest room," Y/N explained. "I didn’t want him messing with anything since I couldn’t clean up. But he's a good boy. He knows how to behave most of the time. He’s probably asleep after coming for cuddles last night.”

Lewis smiled, feeling warmth in his chest. "Thanks for looking after him. I know he’s got you wrapped around his little paw."

Y/N just shrugged, her expression soft. "He's my baby, too. Of course, I'm going to look after him, even when I'm sick."

He laughed, then gently wrapped a bathrobe around her and then himself, before lifting her up once more. "Alright, let's get you into the bedroom. You’re freezing."

_______________________

Lewis placed Y/N gently on the vanity chair, her fluffy bathrobe pooling around her as she leaned back against him. Standing behind her, he reached into one of the drawers, pulling out the hair dryer. He flicked the switch—nothing.

Frowning, he turned it toward her, the nozzle aimed at the back of her head, and smacked the back of it a few times.

With a sudden whoosh, it roared to life, sending a gust of hot air straight to her head and blowing all her damp hair forward.

Y/N let out a startled squeal, her laughter bubbling up immediately. “Lewis! Oh my god!” she exclaimed through giggles, trying to push her hair back.

He started laughing too, his chest shaking against her back. “Well, at least we know it works,” he said, still amused.

She tried to glare at him through the mess of hair but ended up laughing even more. “You did that on purpose!”

“Me? Never,” he said, grinning as he finally angled the dryer properly and ran his fingers through her hair to smooth it down.

She let out a content sigh as he worked, but after a moment, she said, “I don’t need the whole salon treatment. I can style it and put products in later.”

Lewis hummed thoughtfully, still running his fingers through her strands as he dried them. “Or... you could let me braid it.”

She tilted her head up to look at him in the mirror, raising a skeptical brow. “You? Braid my hair?”

He smirked. “Don’t underestimate me, baby. I’ve got skills.”

Her lips twitched, fighting a smile. “Oh, this I have to see.”

Y/N hummed softly as Lewis ran his fingers through her hair, parting it into sections.

The warmth of the hair dryer had left a comforting heat lingering on her scalp, and his touch was gentle as he worked.

Lewis recognized the melody almost instantly. His lips curled into a small smile as he listened, fingers moving carefully to weave the strands together.

Then, without thinking, he started singing along, his voice soft and low.

Y/N’s humming stuttered for a moment before she smiled. “You know this song?”

“Of course,” Lewis murmured, focusing on the braid. “You sing it all the time.”

She chuckled, leaning back into him a little more. “Guess you do pay attention.”

“Always,” he said simply.

The room was quiet except for their voices, blending together in an easy harmony. It wasn’t perfect—sometimes she hummed where he sang, and sometimes he mumbled lyrics he wasn’t entirely sure of—but it was theirs. The kind of peaceful moment that didn’t need to be anything more.

Lewis glanced at their reflection in the mirror. Y/N, warm and relaxed in her robe, her head tilted slightly as she let him braid her hair, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion but content.

And him, standing behind her, their robes soft against each other, hands weaving through her strands with a care that spoke louder than words.

He smiled to himself.

This is home.

A sudden, loud growl interrupted Lewis’s thoughts, and he blinked before realizing exactly where it had come from.

Y/N’s face turned red instantly.

Lewis burst out laughing. “Oh My god, babe—”

“Shut up,” she whined, burying her face in her hands. “I’m hungry, okay? It’s not funny to laugh at your starving girlfriend.”

He grinned, leaning down to press a quick kiss to the top of her head. “You’re right. It’s not funny at all.” But the way his shoulders still shook betrayed him.

She huffed.

After finishing up her braid, he gently pulled the end to tighten it before admiring his work. “Not bad, huh?”

Y/N reached up, running her fingers along the plait, and gave him a small nod. “I’ll give you an 8 out of 10.”

“Eight?” he gasped dramatically. “That was at least a nine point five.”

She giggled, but before she could argue, Lewis slipped his arms under her and lifted her off the chair.

She gasped a little in surprise, her hands flying to his shoulders.

He lived for that sound.

“Why are we leaving the room?” she asked, her voice suspicious as he carried her towards the door.

Lewis smirked. “Because I need to feed my girl.”

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly before she gestured between them. “Lewis. We are both naked under these.”

He raised an eyebrow. “So what baby, who’s gonna see us?”

She grumbled something under her breath but didn’t protest as he carried her straight to the kitchen, setting her down gently on the counter. The cold surface made her shiver, but she said nothing as she watched him move around, grabbing ingredients.

She pulled her robe tighter around herself. “You’re really making soup from scratch?”

Lewis glanced over his shoulder with a playful grin. “Only the best for you, love.”

As Lewis moved around the kitchen, gathering ingredients and setting up the pot, he felt Y/N’s gaze on him.

When he glanced at her, she was just sitting there, legs swinging slightly, watching him with the softest, most adoring smile.

It did something to his heart.

It wasn’t the first time she’d looked at him like that, but every single time, it hit him just as hard. Like falling in love all over again.

His hands stilled. A sudden, overwhelming wave of emotion crashed over him.

Without a word, he turned and walked back to her, stepping between her legs, wrapping his arms around her waist, and burying his face into the curve of her neck.

His hold on her was firm, almost desperate, like he was afraid to let go.

Y/N blinked, surprised by the sudden embrace. “Lewis? Baby?” she murmured, tilting her head slightly to look at him. “What’s happening, my love?”

He just held her tighter, his breath warm against her skin. “I just love you,” he whispered, voice rough, almost raw. “A lot.”

There was no hesitation from her. No questioning or teasing. She simply wrapped her arms around him, pulling him in just as tightly.

Her lips pressed gently to the top of his head, "I love you more than words can express" her voice was soft, tender and all he needed in that moment.

Lewis exhaled, his body relaxing against her.

This was home. This was safety. This was her.

Just as Lewis was sinking into the warmth of her embrace, feeling like he could stay there forever—

Y/N suddenly sneezed right into his hair.

He froze.

She sniffled. “Oh my god.”

And then Lewis laughed, the deep, joyful sound echoing through the kitchen. He pulled back just enough to look at her, his grin wide. “Really, baby?”

She groaned, covering her face. “I told you I was sick.”

Still chuckling, he wiped at his hair dramatically. “Yeah, but we were having a moment.”

She pouted, sniffling again. “I ruined it, didn’t I?”

Lewis shook his head, leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead. “Nah,” he murmured, smiling against her skin. “Still gonna be one of my favorite moments.”

_________________________________________

Thank you for reading!

If you liked this story please leave a like a comment and a reblog!

Wrote this because I'm in the ER ( fainted), and I have literally nothing to do, the reports will come later, so I'm just waiting, and I saw this request form an anon, and I was like, why not, anon requested for it to be a slightly open kind of ending. Hope you all liked this. Idk what's wrong with me, but hopefully it's all good and nothing too horrible.

Jules♡

Taglist: @anamiad00msday @evie-119 @that-one-little-soybean @six-call @stressed-cherry @il0vereadingstuff @whatevenisthisxxxxx @freyathehuntress @nina-or-anna-or-nora @allthings-fandoms @larastark3107 @myescapefromthislife @wertyuizxcvbnm @halleest @hs2016 @lucyysthings @justaf1girl @bernelflo @mendes-bae @chelseyyouraverageluigi @llando4norris @sid-is-gr8 @henna006 @hurtblossom @quinquinquincy @ts1mp0ne @spidercat-soccerfan @kodzuvk @wherethefuckisthething @hellowgoodbye @prttylight @l4ndonorizz @edgyficuselastica @k-kaliop @charlesgirl16 @chloes-book-corner @1mverstappen @inchidentofftrack @blackmage24 @angelluv16 @alice-went-away @teamnovalak @wierdflowerpower @sunshine-and-midnight-rain @maxswhore33 @glow-ish @lazybot @weekendlusting @milky-rose2

A diferentes velocidades (Lando x Lectora)

Resumen: durante cierto evento de la FIA, el par de pilotos compartió una entrevista. Y desde ese momento, Lando se obsesionó con la mujer.

Masterlist de mi autoría

~¿Yo? Apuesto por Red Bull. Se desarrollaron mejor en la última carrera.~

~Pero yo soy mejor, saqué el mejor tiempo. 1 minuto y 12 segundos... ¿No te parece bueno?~

~Depende en qué ámbito y contexto... ¿No te parece? Puede parecer... poquito.~

La manera en que el rostro de Lando se tornó rojo en un segundo fue un meme y suceso destacable del ámbito a partir de ese momento. Sumado a los masajes de Amsterdam, la sonrisa y rostro carmesí de Norris fueron patrimonio nacional entre sus fanáticos, quienes no tardaron en hacer miles de edits con la escena.

Si... Fue una locura.

Y ____ no esperaba que fuera para tanto.

La piloto de rally coincidió con Norris en el enorme hall del evento, y por pura gentileza accedió a la entrevista pedida por cierta periodista. No esperaba tal revuelo por tan bobalicón comentario.

El Motorsport Games de la FIA llevaba solo unos pocos años en el mapa, apenas se estaba acercando a la popularidad media. Y la mujer tenía los patrocinadores justos y necesarios para sustentar su lugar. Ahora le llovían interesados.

Y no solo patrocinadores.

~Se te vio en las gradas de la última carrera ¿No conseguiste acceso al paddock incluso ganando el oro el viernes?~

~Nos discriminan a los de mi categoría. FIA, dame el gusto ¿Si?~____ rió apenas~. Es broma, la verdad no solicité nada... Esperemos que si Checo ve esto, me invite a su palco. Sería un honor.~

~¿Y... Si McLaren ofrece un lugar?~

~... ¿Oscar sería tan considerado?~fingió confusión, pero no tardó en sonreír~... La verdad es que desde aquel día no volví a hablar con Lando, fue algo del momento y ya. Temo arruinar nuestros shippeos para los fans de Tik Tok.~ Se encogió de hombros divertida.

Se equivocaba.

El fin de semana anterior, Lando estuvo al completo pendiente de la mujer.

Puede que no entendiera mucho de la categoría donde ella estaba, pero con tal de verla y saber más de ella, se mantuvo bastante entretenido.

—Es por tiempo, pero Sprint... O algo asi.—

—... ¿Estuviste toda la tarde mirando eso?—

Oscar llegó al departamento casi de noche, encontrándose a Lando en el salón común, mirando la última carrera, donde ____ salió campeona.

—____ ganó... Con una diferencia de media hora.—señaló sonriente la pantalla, donde la mujer se quitaba el casco agitada, dejándolo en el techo del auto—. Mírala... Es tan atractiva que volvería loco a cualquiera.—

—¿Esto fue ayer no? Deberías mandarle un mensaje, felicitarla.—la sonrisa de Lando se desvaneció.

—No.—

—¿Qué? ¿por qué?... No me digas que te da pena, justo a ti.—

El chico no dijo nada, solo se limitó a seguir mirando el televisor.

____ subía al techo de su auto junto a su copiloto, alzando la bandera de México con una sonrisa radiante pese al cansancio.

Lando no duraría mucho más manteniéndose lejos.

La mañana de ____ empezó como cualquier otra ese viernes, con la única -e interesante- diferencia de un sobre en su correspondencia.

—... No me digas que es lo que creo que es.—

____ le mostró a Lucas, su copiloto, el pase para el paddock de ese fin de semana. Era para el sector de McLaren.

—Parece que Norris te tuvo en cuenta al final.—

La mujer se sorprendió por el gesto, pero no tardó en sonreír.

—Ella está aquí, la vi en el salón general.—

—¿Quién?—

—____.—

Lando se levantó enseguida del sofá, mirando a Oscar como si le hubiese dado la mejor noticia del año.

—¿Dónde?—

—En el salón general... ¿Estás bien?—

—Iré a saludar.—caminó hacia la puerta, pero se congeló antes de abrirla—... No, mejor no.—

—... ¿Sabes algo? Hace mucho no veía a éste Lando nervioso e inseguro. No lo extrañaba.—Oscar lo vio dar unos brincos en el lugar, dándose valor—. Solo ve y di hola, no es tan dificil.—

—Para ti es fácil decirlo.—

—Pues si, a mi no me gusta ni me da miedo.—

Lando estaba por negar aquello, cuando unos toques en la puerta los interrumpió.

Si el chico ya estaba bastante exaltado por la situación, ver a la mujer ahí de pie le explotó la cabeza.

—Oh, que bueno encontrarte. Llevo buscándote un buen rato.—la chica sonrió enseguida.

—¿Me... Buscabas?—

—Pues sí, para agradecerte.—____ alzó el carnet VIP—. Gracias, Lando. Todo es genial por aquí... Para nada el ámbito del rally.—

—¿Extrañas el polvo y el calor?—Oscar llamó su atención. ____ rió entre dientes.

—Para nada, Oscar... Es un placer conocerte, por cierto.—Lo vio sonreír. ____ volvió su atención a Lando, quien parecía paralizado—... ¿Estás bien?—

—Si. Muy bien. Excelente... Que bueno que viniste, digo, que hayas aceptado las entradas... Para venir a apoyarnos.—sonrió nervioso.

—Oye oye, más despacio.—____ señaló su gorra de Red Bull—. Checo sigue siendo mi favorito.—

—... ¿Algún requisito en específico para que uses una gorra mía al menos por hoy?—

Lando se animó a decir aquello, sin saber bien cómo lo tomaría la mujer. Sintió burbujas en el estómago al verla sonreír.

—Si me regalas una y la firmas... Podría considerar ser tu fan, solo por hoy.—el rostro del hombre se iluminó.

Lando le sonreía a la nada leyendo los comentarios de aquella publicación.

Los fanáticos dejaban volar su imaginación con aquel posteo, y el piloto disfrutaba de los delirios ficticios de todos.

Después de la carrera, Lando no tuvo oportunidad de buscar a la mujer, quien tuvo que irse temprano por su agenda. Al otro día empezaba otro circuito para ella también.

Pero aún así, recibió un mensaje que le alegró la noche.

—¿Te estás mensajeando con ella?—Lando enfocó la mirada en su compañero, quien dormitaba en el sofá contrario—. La cara de tonto te delata.—

—Pidió disculpas por irse antes... Y nos felicita por haber ganado los primeros puestos... Dice que le gustaría volver a vernos, cenar juntos o algo asi.—

—O sea que quiere verme a mi también, no es que tú le gustes.—

—Disfrutas sabotear mis ilusiones ¿Verdad?—

—No son ilusiones, creo que a estas alturas, todo el mundo sabe que podría haber algo.—

Por si no fuera ya un bombazo ver a la mujer en el paddock usando la gorra de Lando, ver al McLaren en Egipto celebrando la reciente victoria de la mujer terminó de explotar entre los fanáticos.

—Somos tendencia, compañero.—

Lando miró a la mujer entrar al restaurante, usando un vestido demasiado provocador para su gusto. Lo amó.

—¿Y cómo no serlo? Llevamos todo el día provocando en redes.—la miró sentarse frente a él—. Estas muy linda... Imposible imaginar que hace unas horas estabas cubierta de arena... y también estabas muy linda.—la escuchó reír.

—Gustos extraños los tuyos... Es como si yo admitiera que adoro verte al final de las carreras agitado y sudado.—alzó las cejas con burla.

—Pues a mi si me gusta verte agitada y sudada después de las carreras...—

El par de pilotos comenzó a meterse en terreno peligroso...

White Noise | MV1

Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: [Soulmate AU] In a world where soulmate marks promise connection, one person’s endless wait collides with another’s relentless pursuit of a life beyond destiny.

Warning(s): Mild Language, Pining, mutual pining, they dance in a club, idk if the dancing can be considered steamy or not, cliff hanger.

Part 5 ~Series Masterlist~

"Show me you're shameless...write it on my neck, why don't ya? And I won't erase it....I need you more than I want to...need you more than I want to"

The music pulsed through the club, a deep, thumping bass that rattled the ice in his gin and tonic. It was loud, packed, and dimly lit—exactly the kind of place that should be drowning out every thought in his head.

Max leaned back against the booth, stretching out his legs, as he watched the drivers he came here with lose themselves on the dance floor.

Lando, Charles, Carlos, and a few others, moving easily under the flashing lights, too drunk on victory and alcohol to care about anything else.

He should be out there too, celebrating, letting the win from yesterday settle into his bones the way it used to.

Another Monaco win. More points in the championship. It almost felt like 2023 again, when he had the title in a chokehold, when everything was simple. When winning was enough.

But now—now, nothing was enough, without her.

He sighed, swirling the clear liquid in his glass before taking another sip. The gin burned his throat, crisp and bitter, but it didn’t do anything to settle the restlessness crawling under his skin.

And then—

The fucking pulse.

The glass nearly slipped from his fingers.

It started slow, a hum under his ribs, something deep and insistent. Then it grew, stronger, louder, vibrating through his bones. His heartbeat followed, pounding against his chest, his ears, his head.

He knew what this meant.

Max’s head snapped up, and his eyes locked onto her instantly.

Y/N.

She stood across the club, just beyond the bar, surrounded by people. But he only saw her.

She was...breathtaking. And he felt the breath leave his lungs in the heavy exhale he let out.

The lights caught the shimmer of her dress, the deep silver fabric clinging to her in all the right places, short enough to show off the length of her legs. Her dark smoky eyes made her gaze sharper, bolder, and her lips—red, the same shade that had been burned into his memory since the last time he saw her.

A pearl choker wrapped around her throat, delicate and elegant, and he couldn’t stop himself from staring at the soft skin just below it, where her pulse would be.

Beating just as fast as his.

Max was frozen.

Did she know he was here? Was she looking for him?

His grip on the glass tightened as he watched her friends bring her drinks, laughing, nudging her toward the dance floor. And then—

She danced.

And Max forgot how to breathe entirely.

Her body moved effortlessly with the music, the flashing lights illuminating her skin, the curve of her back, the way her dress rode up just slightly—enough to give him an anaphylactic shock— as she swayed to the beat.

She was magnetic, and it wasn’t just the bond—it was her. The confidence, the ease, the way she lost herself in the moment like nothing else mattered.

Max’s chest ached.

She was here.

Three weeks. Three fucking long weeks since she walked away from him. Three weeks of radio silence, of waiting, of not knowing.

And now, she was here.

Max was trapped between wanting to go to her and not knowing if he should.

Because she hadn’t come to him. She hadn’t looked for him.

She was here, but was she here for him?

The answer lay in the way her eyes flickered toward him in the middle of a spin, in the way her lips parted slightly when she caught him staring.

But she didn’t stop dancing.

Max clenched his jaw, setting his drink down. If she wasn’t going to come to him, then he would go to her.

Max was halfway out of his seat when he saw him.

The man.

Tall, dark-haired, well-dressed in that overly polished, moneyed way Max had learned to spot a mile away. The kind of man who walked into places like these expecting people to fall at his feet.

And right now, that man had set his sights on Y/N.

Max’s fingers curled into a fist on the table.

He didn’t like jealousy.

It was an ugly emotion, a useless one. It clouded judgment, made people reckless.

But as he watched the man get too close—leaning in, placing a hand on Y/N’s arm, tugging her just slightly toward him—Max felt it slither into his chest anyway.

Maybe this was his answer.

Maybe she wanted him to see this. Maybe she was showing him, without words, that she wasn’t available.

That she had made her choice.

His jaw clenched.

Fine. Fucking fine then.

If that was the case, he’d leave. He wouldn’t make this harder for her, for himself.

But then—

Y/N shifted, just slightly, just enough for him to see the change in her expression.

The annoyance, the sharp furrow of her brows. The tension in her shoulders. The way her hand curled into a fist at her side.

She wasn’t into him.

Max exhaled sharply through his nose.

If anything, she looked like she was five seconds away from breaking the guy’s nose.

And as much as Max wanted to see that, he figured he should probably step in—not to save Y/N, because she didn’t need saving, but to save the poor bastard from whatever wrath was brewing behind her clenched jaw.

Max moved.

He crossed the floor in a few easy strides, weaving through bodies, his focus sharp and singular.

The man had leaned in even closer now, saying something into her ear that made Y/N’s entire posture go rigid.

Max didn’t give him the chance to say anything else.

"Piss off." His voice was cool, his expression unreadable, but there was a sharp edge to his words that cut through the music.

The man blinked, turning toward him with a lazy smirk. “And who are you?

Max didn’t answer. He just stared, unblinking, something dark simmering in his blue eyes.

The man hesitated. Then he scoffed, lifting his hands in mock surrender before stepping back. “Whatever, man.”

Y/N exhaled, her jaw tight, and then—finally—her eyes met his.

The pulse between them roared.

Max felt it in his ribs, in his veins, in every inch of him. The sharp, unbearable ache of staying apart.

And then, as if the universe wanted to drive it home, the music shifted.

The pulsing beat melted into something slow, something sultry.

Max didn’t think. He just moved.

One step forward, his hands reaching for her before she could slip away again.

He felt the little gasp leave her lips as he pulled her against him, delighted in it, the warmth of her body pressed to his, the way she fit so damn perfectly in his arms.

Max exhaled, his head dipping just slightly toward hers.

"Just for one night," he murmured, voice low, almost pleading. "Pretend that we’re strangers. Forget everything....just for tonight."

She didn’t move.

Didn’t step away.

Didn’t push him off.

And then, after a long moment—

She moved with him.

____________________________

The moment Max pulled her against him,Y/N knew she was lost.

There was no hesitation. No second guessing. His hands found her waist, and she melted into the touch like she had been waiting for it her entire life.

"Just for one night, Pretend that we’re strangers. Forget everything....just for tonight."

The bond pulsed between them—not a violent crash, not a scream, but a hum, a perfect, golden vibration that ran through her veins, curled around her ribs, and whispered,

Finally.

The music was a slow, sultry beat, the kind that slithered under the skin, the kind that begged for bodies to press together, to find a rhythm that wasn’t just the song but something more.

And God, they did.

Max moved with her like he had been made to. His hands—large, warm, possessive—gripped the dip of her waist, pulling her in, flush against his chest, against the solid wall of his body, and she gasped at the contact, at the way it sent a jolt through her.

Like lightning. Like divinity. Like something so right it should have been written in scripture.

She let her head fall back, her eyes half-lidded as she moved, hips rolling, pressing against him, a slow, torturous friction that sent heat pooling low in her stomach.

She barely registered the low groan that rumbled in his chest, but she felt it, felt the way it vibrated against her, how it sank into her bones.

He was everywhere.

His touch. His scent. His presence, all-consuming, drowning her in something she didn’t know how to fight anymore.

A hand trailed up her back, fingers pressing, kneading, as he guided her movements, slow, deliberate, like he was savoring every second, like he had waited for this.

Hadn’t they both?

Hadn’t they been waiting their whole lives for something that felt like this?

She let herself get lost in it. If only just for a moment.

Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, gripping it tight as she arched into him, as their movements became something deeper, something desperate and unrelenting, like neither of them could get close enough.

The pulse between them was stronger now, not the overwhelming force it had once been, but a pleasure so pure, so satisfying, that it nearly had her keening.

This was what had been missing. This was why.

The bond wanted them together. It needed them to be together.

Max seemed just as lost as she was. His breath was warm against her ear, uneven, his lips grazing the sensitive skin there, barely-there touches that sent a shudder through her spine.

Then lower.

The line of her jaw.

The slope of her neck.

Each kiss was reverent. Worshipful.

She exhaled sharply, her chest rising and falling against his, her grip tightening on him as his lips found her shoulder, where her dress dipped just enough to expose skin.

And God, the way he lingered.

The way his lips pressed, slow, savoring.

She barely heard the music anymore.

Barely heard anything over the roaring in her ears, over the way her body was singing, vibrating with something primal and ancient and undeniable.

It felt—

Like devotion. Like paradise. Nirvana.

Like the thing she had spent her whole life pretending she didn’t need.

She didn’t know how long they moved like that, bodies entwined, breath mixing, hands exploring, but it could have been eternity.

And she—

She thinks would have let it.

__________________________

Max Verstappen was falling.

Not in the literal sense—no, he was still standing, still breathing, still aching hard from the way Y/N fit against him like she had been made for this. But in every other way that mattered?

He was falling.

The press of her body against his still burned on his skin. The scent of her, the warmth of her, the way her breath had hitched when his lips skimmed her shoulder—it was all branded into him, carved deep, a permanent mark on his soul.

Then—

A snap. A quick shutter of light.

Not the sound of something breaking, but the sharp click of a camera.

The moment shattered.

Y/N tensed in his arms first, and Max followed her gaze toward the edge of the dance floor. There, barely hidden in the dim light, was a man holding up his phone. The angle was perfect—too perfect. Max didn’t have to be a genius to know what the guy was doing.

Taking pictures.

Taking pictures of them.

His jaw clenched, frustration bubbling under his skin. The club had a strict no-photo policy, but of course, that didn’t mean anything to some people. He had dealt with this before. Drunk fans. Nosy paparazzi. People who couldn’t respect boundaries.

But before Max could move, Y/N was already on it.

The second Y/N stormed toward the man, Max followed, close enough to interfere if necessary but not stepping in just yet.

He didn’t need to—not when she was handling it with a sharp-edged precision that sent a thrill down his spine.

“Delete it,” she demanded, voice like a blade.

The man tried to laugh it off, feigning ignorance. “I-I don’t know what—”

“Don’t insult me.” Her tone was clipped, authoritative in a way that didn’t invite argument. “I know exactly what you were doing, and I will press charges for violating privacy laws. This club has a strict policy. You’ll be blacklisted. Think deeply, I know that can be hard for you”

The guy hesitated.

Y/N didn’t blink.

“You think I won’t? You think I don’t have the fucking means to follow through?” She took another step forward, her body language poised, threatening without needing to raise her voice. “Go ahead. Test me.”

Max saw the exact moment the man caved. He fumbled with his phone, pulling up the gallery with unsteady fingers. Y/N snatched it from his hands before he could do anything else, her eyes scanning the screen.

She deleted the photos herself, went into the trash folder, and erased them permanently. Then, she shoved the phone back into the guy’s chest with a final glare.

“Try that again,” she said, “and I’ll make sure you regret it.”

The man practically tripped over himself as he rushed away, disappearing into the crowd.

Max let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“Remind me never to get on your bad side.” His voice was light, teasing. He wanted to praise her, to tell her how fucking hot that was, how incredible she was when she was like this—strong, fearless, commanding.

But the moment she turned to him, all of that died in his throat.

Because she wasn’t proud of what she had done.

She was angry.

Not at the guy.

At him.

“This.” She gestured sharply toward where the man had disappeared. “This is exactly why I can’t be with you, Max.”

He felt the words like a gut punch.

The heat in her eyes was something deeper than frustration. It was exhaustion, weariness, the kind that settled in your bones when you were just tired of fighting a battle you never asked for.

“The invasion. The cameras. The constant eyes on me, on us,” she continued, voice rising. “You might be used to it, but I’m not. And I don’t want to be.”

Max opened his mouth, but before he could say a word, she turned.

And then she left. Just like that. Again.

He barely had time to react before someone grabbed his arm—a drunk fan, slurring something about a picture.

“Not. Now,” he bit out, shaking them off as gently as he could, barely restraining his frustration.

By the time he shoved past the crowd and made it outside—

She was gone.

His heart pounded.

Then—

A noise.

A struggle.

And then—

A scream.

Y/N.

His body moved before his brain caught up, his feet running toward the sound, toward the darkened corner just beyond the club’s entrance.

“Get the fuck off me!”

His blood went ice cold.

He turned the corner just in time to see a man grabbing Y/N’s wrist, pinning her against the wall. She was fighting, her other hand shoving at his chest, but the guy was persistent, his grip too tight.

Rage surged through Max like a storm.

“HEY!”

His voice was a roar, cutting through the night.

The man barely had time to react before Max was on him.

_________________________________________

Thank you for reading!

If you liked this part please leave a like a comment and a reblog!

Guysss, this is the second to last chapter, I could have made it longer, but I have other things to do in like my irl, which would mean leaving you guys waiting, and I don't wanna do that, I really hope you like this chapter, I wrote in a hurry while taking breaks from packing, this will be scheduled to post around Monday, so that's that.

Jules♡

Taglist: @anamiad00msday @evie-119 @that-one-little-soybean @six-call @stressed-cherry @il0vereadingstuff @whatevenisthisxxxxx @freyathehuntress @nina-or-anna-or-nora @allthings-fandoms @larastark3107 @myescapefromthislife @wertyuizxcvbnm @halleest @hs2016 @lucyysthings @justaf1girl @bernelflo @mendes-bae @chelseyyouraverageluigi @llando4norris @sid-is-gr8 @henna006 @hurtblossom @quinquinquincy @ts1mp0ne @spidercat-soccerfan @kodzuvk @wherethefuckisthething @hellowgoodbye @prttylight @l4ndonorizz @edgyficuselastica @k-kaliop @charlesgirl16 @chloes-book-corner @1mverstappen @inchidentofftrack @blackmage24 @angelluv16 @alice-went-away @teamnovalak @wierdflowerpower @sunshine-and-midnight-rain @maxswhore33

im super sleepy

Count down to Forever | LN4

Lando Norris X Reader (Requested)

Summary: [SOULMATE AU] Lando meets his soulmate, and it's perfect, she's perfect.

Warning(s): Mild Language, Lando with self doubts, Oscar being the voice of reason—in a very Oscar way, Cliche meet cute. Fluffy.

"I have faith in what I see, now I know I have met....an angel.. in person, and she looks perfect"

Lando sat in his driver’s room, staring at the timer on his left wrist. The ticking of the seconds was quiet, almost like a whisper, but it was loud in his ears, as if time was calling his name.

Lando knew what it meant, of course. He knew soulmates existed, and everyone had a different type of bond.

Oscar and his soulmate shared a red string of fate, something so visible and tangible that no one could ever doubt it. And no one has, anyone who has seen the pair grow up together, knows that they are meant for each other.

Lando thinks he should feel jealous, maybe.

Carlos and his soulmate had a mutual pain bond, where if one felt pain, the other did too. When one had a permanent injury, the other also suffered the same. Lando couldn’t even begin to imagine what that would feel like.

At least Carlos doesn't have to feel periods, or maybe he does, Lando hasn't asked him that question, and Carlos had never brought it up.

Max and his soulmate? Well, they had each other’s initials on their skin, marking them in a way that felt simple but perfect for them.

Lando knew there were many kinds of soul bonds, but his own was… different.

It was a countdown.

It had appeared the day after he hit puberty, like a flash of ink on his skin. At first, it was just a random number of years, days, and hours. It seemed distant, like something that wouldn’t matter for a long while. But as the years passed, the timer slowly ticked down.

From years to months, and now, it was finally in days. The timer was counting down to the moment he would meet her, the one person who had the power to change his life forever. The one who would match his soul in a way that no one else ever could.

13 hours, 23 minutes, 56 seconds.

That was the time remaining.

Lando took a deep breath, staring at the timer, watching the numbers tick down. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, he was meeting her.

It felt so damn close. It was so damn close.

He considered his countdown to be both reassuring and frustrating at the same time.

Of course, he couldn’t say it was painful when Carlos’ soulmate probably went to sleep with an appendix one day and woke up without it, thanks to their bond. Lando could only imagine how deeply unsettling that must be.

Or how nerve-wracking it still must be for Charles—who hasn't found his soulmate yet, to listen carefully to make sure no one says the words written on his shoulder blade. Lando thought that sounded like a nightmare.

His timer, though, felt like a quiet kind of pressure. A soft, constant reminder that something was coming.

Something big. Something important.

At first, it had given him comfort. Back when the number of years was still high and the days counted in thousands, Lando thought it was a blessing. His soulmate would see him when he was at his best—when he’d finally grown into himself, maybe a little more mature. Maybe even, just maybe, worthy of her.

But now, seeing the days ticking away, he wasn’t sure what he felt anymore.

It had been years since he hit puberty. So many years, in fact, that the timer on his wrist had gone from a comforting countdown to a constant source of anxiety. The numbers were finally down to the wire, and Lando couldn’t help but feel jittery about it.

He had spent the past year staring at it, unable to focus on anything else.

Every time he remembered how much time he had left, his stomach churned, his nerves tightening. Everyone noticed it too. The nervous energy had been building up, and now, with only a day left, it was impossible to ignore.

Lando was really excited to meet his soulmate. He truly was. But if he was being honest with himself, he was also fucking terrified. Everyone knew it didn’t always work out the way you wanted it to.

He had seen relationships fall apart. He had seen people struggle with the weight of their soul bonds. And Lando was scared—scared his soulmate wouldn’t want him.

He was scared that when he finally met her, she might look at him and decide he wasn’t worth the wait.

He tried to push the thought aside, to drown it out with logic.

Why would she not want Lando Norris? Famous F1 driver, all-around golden retriever? He grinned at the thought of himself as a “golden retriever.” It was a joke his friends liked to throw around.

It made him laugh, but there was a bitter edge to it, too. That side of him, the more confident part of himself, knew the truth: He was a catch. He’d grown into his own, his place in the world as an F1 driver becoming clearer by the day. He had fans, he had respect, and he had a group of friends who genuinely cared about him. He was doing okay.

But there was another part of him, a smaller, quieter voice that still whispered in the back of his mind. It was the voice that made him second-guess himself, the voice that asked: What if she doesn’t like Lando?

Not Lando Norris, but Lando.

Lando, who needed time to warm up to people. Lando, who could be awkward and uncouth at first, stumbling over his words or trying too hard to make someone laugh. Lando, who wasn’t always the life of the party, and sometimes just needed his own space to recharge. Lando, who had panic attacks and random bursts of energy that he couldn’t always control. Lando, who had an insistent need for physical touch like a touch-starved child, always craving affection, even in the smallest of ways. It made him feel vulnerable.

Would she want to know him, all of him?

He barely noticed when the door cracked open.

“Lando,” his trainer called, leaning against the doorframe. “Zak wants you in the team meeting. Now.”

Lando blinked, shaking himself out of his daze. “Right. Yeah. Coming.”

He forced himself up, rolling his shoulders and shaking out his hands as if that would help the nervous energy buzzing under his skin. He grabbed a water bottle, took a sip he didn’t really need, and made his way to the meeting room.

Inside, the usual suspects were already seated—Zak, the engineers, strategists, a few mechanics, and of course, Oscar, who glanced up when Lando entered.

Zak barely looked up before launching into the meeting. “Alright, boys. Let’s talk strategy.”

Lando dropped into his chair, hands on the table, trying to look engaged as Zak ran through tire strategies, pit stop timings, and race simulations. But he couldn’t focus. His leg bounced under the table. His fingers tapped against his thigh. He shifted in his seat every few minutes. He could feel the countdown, hear it in his head, ticking away like a bomb waiting to go off.

Across the table, Oscar squinted at him.

Lando ignored him, staring at the strategy notes in front of him, pretending to listen as an engineer explained something about tire degradation.

___________________________

Oscar waits until the room clears out before speaking. “Alright,” he says, leveling Lando with a look. “What’s going on?”

Lando exhales sharply, staring down at the numbers on his wrist. “The countdown ends tomorrow.”

Oscar blinks. “Your soulmate timer?”

Lando nods. “Yeah.”

Oscar is quiet for a moment, considering him. “You nervous?”

Lando scoffs, rubbing his hand over his face. “Mate, I feel like I’m gonna throw up.”

Oscar’s voice is calm, steady. “Why?”

Lando looks at him, incredulous. “Because—what if she doesn’t like me? What if she meets me and decides I’m not worth it? What if she—”

Oscar cuts him off, tone matter-of-fact. “What if she does?”

Lando falters.

Oscar tilts his head. “What if she’s nervous too? What if she’s worried you won’t like her?”

Lando hadn’t thought of that. He’s spent so long worrying about being enough that it never occurred to him that she might be feeling the same.

Oscar shrugs. “You’re Lando. You’re an idiot sometimes, but you’re also... you.” He gives Lando a pointed look. “And if she’s meant for you, she’ll see that.”

Lando exhales, some of the anxiety in his chest loosening. He nods slowly. “Yeah. Okay.”

Oscar pats his shoulder once. “Good. Now, stop acting like a nervous wreck. It’s weird.”

Lando laughs as he watches Oscar walk towards his soulmate, who was visiting him before they both travel to Melbourne together for a mini holiday before the season starts.

Lando wonders if he'll have someone like that.

Well, you'll find out tomorrow mate

And isn't that a thought to keep you up all night.

___________________________

Lando sat in the McLaren garage, arms crossed, leg bouncing so hard it was shaking the whole chair. His eyes kept flicking to the countdown on his wrist—1 hour and 57 minutes.

He hadn't slept. He couldn't. He was running on adrenaline, nerves, and whatever was left of his sanity.

Oscar, sitting across from him, had been watching in silence for a while now. Finally, he sighed. “You look awful.”

“Thanks, Osc” Lando muttered.

“No, really,” Charlotte added as she walked past, then doubled back to take in the full disaster that was Lando Norris. “You look like you fought sleep and..lost.”

“I didn’t fight,” Lando grumbled. “Just… didn’t sleep at all.”

Zak, who had been reviewing data, finally looked up. “Why?”

Oscar barely waited a second before answering. “He’s meeting his soulmate today.”

Silence. Then, understanding.

“Ohhh,” Zak said.

“Oh,” Charlotte echoed.

“Yeah,” one of the strategists, Alex, nodded. “Fair enough.”

Lando groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s not,” Charlotte said immediately.

Zak hummed. “If I had to meet the person destined to put up with me forever, I’d be nervous too.”

Charlotte snorted. “Mate, you’ve been married for years.”

Zak shrugged. “Doesn’t mean she’s not still stuck with me.”

Alex grinned. “Yeah, but at least you didn’t look like this when you met her.” he motioned towards Lando's... well, everything.

Lando scowled. “I hate you all.”

Oscar, looking entirely too entertained, leaned back in his chair. “You know, we’ve all been where you are. Well, except me, ‘cause I’ve known since I was a kid.”

Lando shot him a glare. “Not helpful.”

Oscar ignored him. “But everyone else? Yeah. Zak, Charlotte, the others—they all went through it. And guess what?”

Lando sighed. “What?”

“It works out,” Oscar said simply. “So stop stressing. Just be you.”

Lando exhaled, the weight in his chest easing just a little.

Zak clapped his hands. “Right. Now that we’ve reassured our nervous wreck of a driver—go eat or drink something. You look like you’re about to pass out.”

Charlotte smirked. “Yeah, would be pretty embarrassing if you collapsed before even meeting her.”

Lando groaned. “I really hate you all.”

But for the first time that day, he actually felt a little better.

________________________

Lando stood, his eyes glued to the countdown timer on his wrist. Seconds seemed to stretch and warp before his eyes, the clock counting down with an unrelenting precision.

Six... Five... Four...

The food court at McLaren’s Bahrain base was alive with chatter, but everything around him felt like background noise.

He had no coffee now. It had long since been abandoned on the table. It had stopped working its magic hours ago. Lando only had his timer, and the ever-decreasing seconds were all that seemed to matter. He took a slow, steadying breath, trying to focus.

Two... One...

Zero.

And then, before he could even think to breathe or move, something—no, someone—suddenly collided into him. It was so quick, so unexpected, that Lando didn’t have time to react, to step aside or brace himself.

The impact surprised him with the force of it. Her papers—dozens of them—exploded into the air around them like snowflakes, swirling in a chaotic dance before they settled to the ground.

Lando instinctively reached out, his hands finding her waist, his fingers wrapping around her as he steadied her in his arms.

The moment felt like it was happening in slow motion, every second suspended in time.

He caught her. Like a movie scene, the way he pulled her against him, his heart leaping in his chest. She was there, right in front of him—her warmth against him, her breath soft against his skin.

His chest tightened. Perfect.

It wasn’t just a word. It was everything. She was everything.

For a few seconds, the world around him disappeared, and he simply held her there, feeling the pulse of her in his arms, the beat of his heart syncing with hers. Lando knew, without a doubt, that this was it.

This was her. This was the moment he’d been waiting for, for what felt like forever, and everything in the world seemed to make sense for the first time.

Then, reality hit. He was still holding her. His heart raced, suddenly aware of the weight of the moment.

He had to let go. Right?

But his hands lingered on her waist as if they didn’t want to let go. He could feel the heat of her body, the slight tremor in her touch, and in that second, he realized she was just as affected.

Her touch felt like coming home.

“Oh—uh... sorry, I... didn’t mean to...” Lando’s voice was breathless, his usual confidence faltering in the face of everything he’d ever wanted. He slowly released her, stepping back a fraction, but he couldn’t seem to bring himself to let her go entirely.

She smiled then, a soft, knowing smile. It was shy but warm. There was a hint of excitement in her eyes—something that matched the fluttering in his chest.

They stood there, neither of them speaking for a moment, as if the weight of the moment was too much to fully comprehend just yet.

Her gaze met his, and he could see the same wonder in her eyes. She didn’t seem like she was in a rush to leave either.

The silence between them hung for just a moment, and then Lando awkwardly scratched the back of his head, still not quite sure what to say.

“I'm Lando,” he said, his voice slightly shaky. “Nice to meet you... soulmate.”

She took a small step back and gave him another soft smile, her cheeks tinged with a light blush.

“Nice to finally meet you, Lando,” she said, her tone just as shy but equally sincere. “It’s Y/N.”

“Do you wanna get some coffee?”

Y/n raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “I thought you were just coming out?”

Lando chuckled, the sound genuine, his nerves easing with her playful tone. “No, well, I mean, yeah, but...I could use another one.”

There was no way in hell he was letting a moment like this slip away. Not when he was standing here with her, his soulmate, the person he’d been waiting for.

Y/n smiled, nodding. “I could definitely use one.”

And just like that, the wait was over.

There were no more numbers to stare at, no more nerves twisting in his stomach. It was just the two of them, standing in a world that felt just a little bit smaller, just a little bit brighter.

The start of something. Something he was finally ready for.

The start to his forever.

______________________________________

Thank you for reading!

Thank you @prttylight for requesting this little piece, I hope I did justice to your request, once again, thank you so much for requesting, it was a wonderful writing.

AND ONCE AGAIN, TO ANYONE WHO MISSED THE MEMO, REQUESTS ARE VERY MUCH OPEN, PLEASE SEND IN SOME.

Jules♡

Taglist: @anamiad00msday @evie-119 @that-one-little-soybean @six-call @stressed-cherry @il0vereadingstuff @whatevenisthisxxxxx @freyathehuntress @nina-or-anna-or-nora @allthings-fandoms @larastark3107 @myescapefromthislife @wertyuizxcvbnm @halleest @hs2016 @lucyysthings @justaf1girl @bernelflo @mendes-bae @chelseyyouraverageluigi @llando4norris @sid-is-gr8 @henna006 @hurtblossom @quinquinquincy @ts1mp0ne @spidercat-soccerfan @kodzuvk @wherethefuckisthething @hellowgoodbye @prttylight @l4ndonorizz @edgyficuselastica @k-kaliop @charlesgirl16 @chloes-book-corner @1mverstappen @inchidentofftrack @blackmage24 @angelluv16 @alice-went-away @teamnovalak @wierdflowerpower @sunshine-and-midnight-rain @maxswhore33

Guys, I've decided to take a break from writing the series' I've been working on, and wanted to open up requests for you guys.

So requests are officially open, please send in some <3 Like short onshot ideas, or even full novel length ones that you'd like for me to write, just not smau or smut, I don't know how to do those yet.😭 BUT PLEASE SEND IN SOME REQUESTS🙏🏻🙏🏻

(Does NOT mean I'm abandoning the other works)

Jules♡

Taglist: @anamiad00msday @evie-119 @that-one-little-soybean @six-call @stressed-cherry @il0vereadingstuff @whatevenisthisxxxxx @freyathehuntress @nina-or-anna-or-nora @allthings-fandoms @larastark3107 @myescapefromthislife @wertyuizxcvbnm @halleest @hs2016 @lucyysthings @justaf1girl @bernelflo @mendes-bae @chelseyyouraverageluigi @llando4norris @sid-is-gr8 @henna006 @hurtblossom @quinquinquincy @ts1mp0ne @spidercat-soccerfan @kodzuvk @wherethefuckisthething @hellowgoodbye @prttylight @l4ndonorizz @edgyficuselastica @k-kaliop @charlesgirl16 @chloes-book-corner @1mverstappen @inchidentofftrack @blackmage24 @angelluv16 @alice-went-away @teamnovalak @wierdflowerpower

VERY FUN

what happens in vegas, does not stay in vegas | ch. 01

pairing: oscar piastri x leclerc!reader

summary: down in the dumps after a big loss, your brother charles decides to stay in instead of going out to party, believing his fellow drivers would keep you from doing anything dumb while out on partying on the vegas strip. that was his first mistake. the next morning his wakes up to the news that you’ve went and gotten yourself married, but who could possible be stupid enough to take advantage of charles leclerc’s baby sister?

warnings: talks about men being creeps. drinking. lando and oscar being proper gentlemen, reader's age is not specified but its mentioned she's in her twenties! reader has everyone wrapped around her finger, oscars antisocial.

word count: 5.1k (my best so far)

authors note: okay soooooo, yes i did already post the first chapter of this series, but i hated it, sorry! so i rewrote it and this was the result, i promise this version is so much better, feedback is also appreciated :) enjoy! i also wrote half this while recovering from wisdom teeth removal, so if there’s any misspelling let’s just blame it on that. reblogs, comments, or feedback of any kind is always greatly appreciated!

series masterlist + playlist

| next chapter ->

Charles Leclerc was a lame, little, whiny baby, loser. And you would’ve said it to his face…if he wasn’t giving you his card so you can buy drinks and souvenirs all night.

It was the Sunday of the big race in Vegas Nevada, coincidentally the first time you'd been in the States, and like any irresponsible twenty-some-year-old would be, you were more excited about the after-party then the actual race.

"Are you sure you don't want to join?" you shouted towards the hotel bedroom, you had your small setup in the bathroom, you pulled down your dress slightly and adjusted your hair before slowly stepping out of the hotel bathroom.

Charles perked up from his phone, shooting you a small smile, he had placed four in the race, something you found impressive (granted you found anything your big brothers did impressive) while he did not, hence him being a debbie downer and refusing to join you, and his fellow drivers on a night out at the Vegas strip.

"I'm sure, Piccina" Charles sat up, pushing his card towards you on the white bed sheets, "Just be careful?"

You nodded eagerly placing this card carefully into your wallet while smiling at the nickname, Piccina, meaning tiny, it had been your nickname ever since you were little, and him using it gave you the comfort of knowing he wasn't secretly mad at you for ditching him while he was down in the dumps.

"Who's going again?" Charles chimed from behind you as you adjusted yourself in the mirror.

You hummed, thinking, "I know Lando for sure."

Charles snorted, muttering, "That wasn't a question."

"I think Oscar, Carlos..." you paused, hoping you didn't hit a nerve, but he simply nodded, "Max might show up...Franco's a yes, Lance, Fernando, and maybe Pierre?" you turned to him with a smile.

Charles shook his head slightly, "Pierre's staying back with me."

You shot him a funny look, "Date night?"

Charles's laughter rang out in the room, he pulled a pillow from behind him and shot it at you, "You're not funny!"

You stood up, throwing the pillow back at him, "You sure are laughing!"

Two stood around for a few more minutes, with Charles refusing to let you leave out alone, insisting you waited for Lando to pick you up. You groaned, "He's taking forever!"

"I don't care!" he matched your tone, "Its dangerous, you could get mobbed or something."

"And having Lando is going to help that, how?" you rose a brow, and his awkward silence made you smirk in triumph.

He huffed, rolling his eyes, "He won't help with the fans, but he’ll help if some creep tries touching you."

You couldn't argue with that.

Just as you were going to try and argue your way out of the door, again, a small knock rang throughout the room.

You beamed, skipping over to the door, as you opened the door, Lando snapped his head up, a whistle leaving his lips, "Looking good, Leclerc!" he cheered as stepped into the room slightly. You smiled as you gave him a slight spin.

"Thanks Lando," Charles joked, you slapped his arm slightly, rolling your eyes, "You know he was talking about me."

Charles rolled his eyes as he and Lando 'bro-hugged' while you went around the room making sure you had everything you needed.

'"Okay, I'm ready!" you cheered, walking over to the two men. Charles nodded, looking you over once more, Lando made his way out the door.

"You got everything?" Charles checked, you nodded brightly, leaning over to give him a hug, "Phone? Charger? Bandaids? Condom?—“

"Charles!" you shrieked, feeling your body heat up as you heard Lando's faint giggle.

Charles held his hands up in defense, "I don't like talking about it either, but I rather you be safe."

You groaned, taking small steps towards the door, "Yes, Charles I have everything."

Charles smiled, holding the door open for you and you stepped out and stood by Lando, "Good. And remember if you need anything, call me."

"Sir yes, sir!" you saluted jokingly.

Charles turned to Lando, "Keep her safe, alright?"

"Sir yes, sir!" Lando mocked you, Charles rolled his eyes as you and Lando burst into laughter.

"Very funny.." was the last thing he muttered before shutting the door in your face.

☾

You and Lando walked side by side in the busy streets of Las Vegas, your eyes shone brightly as you took in the new scenery. When you were younger you didn't necessarily get to travel much because all the extra money went to karting and competitions.

You never complained, even when you had to give up your own dream of being a Formula One driver so Charles could have his chance. He was a great talent, everyone in the family recognized that, and you eventually got over your silly dream.

Since that day when you were ripped apart from your passion, Charles promised he would grant every wish you ever wanted. ‘We’ll go the States and eat everything!—And I’ll buy you everything because I’ll have money from Ferrari!’ he said as he wiped your tears from your puffy cheeks. You knew he only said that because he felt it was his fault you didn’t get to live out your dream. And although you would never admit it to anyone, because it made you feel like a horrible sister, sometimes you did resent the decision made by your family— you had talent too. Why was Charles the only one who got the chance to be great?

"Never been to Vegas?" Lando's voice cut through the silence, he was carrying bags and bags of all types of items, clothes, souvenirs, jewelry, you name it. You had really gone crazy. Since you had about an hour to waste until you were all supposed to meet up, you decided to get all your shopping done early.

You had wanted to hold the bags, but Lando instead he do it, saying it was the 'gentlemen' thing to do.

"No." you breathed out with a smile, "I don't get all the hate this place gets, it's beautiful."

Lando snorted, "I've never heard that said about Vegas before."

"People aren't as deep and sentimental as me Lando, you should know that by now," you wiped a fake tear from your eye and Lando burst into laughter.

You smiled, eyeing the bags in his hands once again, "Are you sure we shouldn't take this stuff back to the hotel?"

Lando nodded, pulling the bags closer to him, "We have a private area in the club, we can put them there."

You 'oohed', "Private area huh?"

"Only the best for Ms. Leclerc," he smirked.

"Oh please," you laughed, "You just don't want anyone to record you getting wasted."

"Okay, maybe that too."

You shook your head as you and Lando crossed the street, you caught a glimpse at the club down the strip, "So who's officially going?"

"I know Oscars going."

"Because you bribed him?"

"Yes."

You and Lando both giggled, swerving in between people, "Carlos is going..." Lando eyes you carefully.

You held your hand up, "What happens with Charles and Carlos on track is none of my business...plus they're like a bipolar couple, they'll be back to charlos in no time."

Lando thought for a second before nodding, "That's why carlando is better."

You shook your head with a smile and Lando continued, "George is going, so is Alonso, Max, Franco, Yuki, and Lance."

"No Alex?" you questioned.

Lando shook his head, "He said he's taking Lily on a 'supes romantic vegas date."

You awed, before frowning, "I need a boyfriend."

Lando smirked, turning to you, "You know I have the perfect guy—“

"Lando!" you heard a familiar accent shout near you. Both you and Lando snapped your head up to see Carlos waving widely at you two, while the others pretended not to know him.

"Carlos!" Lando shouted, lifting his arms up, the multitude of bags almost smacking you in the face.

You would think they hadn't seen each other in years with the way they embraced each other, you could only watch in amusement before you felt a slight tap on your shoulder.

Turning around you came face to face with Oscar Piastri, he just got cuter each day, "Hi." he mumbled as he pulled you into a soft hug. "I didn't see you today, and I didn’t want you thinking I was being rude or avoiding you.”

"You? Rude? Never," you mumbled with a smile and he patted your back softly, "I didn't think you would make it.." you pulled back and he shot you a questioning look, "I don't mean to offend but this doesn't seem like your type of place."

Oscar smiled, and you two started to make your way into the booming club, with Oscar's hand resting on your back, you made sure to greet everyone with a smile.

"It's not!" he yelled so you could hear him, while also making sure he wasn't too close to your ear. "Lando bribed me!"

You nodded, laughing, "Yeah he told me! How much did he give you?"

Oscar's face burned red—not that you could see it—"It wasn't really a..money bribe!"

You turned to him confused, but before you could ask him to clarify, you were both halted when Lando seemingly appeared out of nowhere, making you both pause.

Lando already seemed off his rocker, eyes moving side to side widely, "I'm going to get drinks!" he yelled, shoving all of your bags into Oscar's arms, who took them in surprise, "Our area is over there—" both you and Oscar turned to where he was pointing simultaneously, "Have fun okay?" he shot you two a big thumbs up before getting lost in the crowd.

You and Oscar both stood still for a moment before you slowly turned to each other, "How is he already drunk?" you asked, trying to take the bags from Oscar's hands, but he simply swerved around you, nodding up to where Lando pointed previously.

"I can take those, you know?" You yelled over to Oscar as you started climbing the stairs up to the top portion of the club, you could hear the big change in volume as you got higher.

Oscar gave you a funny look, "What type of man would I be if I let you carry these heavy bags?"

You didn't have an answer. It was a big culture shock when you realized men weren't exactly like your brothers, your brothers always treated you like gold. But once you went out to the real world, you were quick to realize that was not the norm.

Oscar took a slight peak into the bag, "What exactly did you buy?"

"Lots of things with my name on it," you laughed, taking a seat on the sofa next to the big group of drivers, who all acknowledged your existence with a smile. You watched as Oscar followed in your steps, taking a seat next to you, his knee touching yours.

"Examples?"

"You name it... license plate, shirts, bracelets, necklace."

"A true Vegas staple." Oscar nodded in approval, turning his whole body toward you.

You beamed, turning toward him as well, eager to keep to conversation going, "So...how do you feel about the race?"

Oscar laughed slightly, taking a peek behind you, "Probably a lot better than your brother."

You nodded with a pursed smile, "Probably,"

"Is that why's he's not here?"

You shrugged slightly, "Maybe. He said he just wasn't feeling it, but who knows?"

"Do you think they'll stay mad at each other for long?" Oscar's voice was now a quiet whisper, clearly trying to avoid attention.

You shook your head, "We have a flight back home tomorrow night, they'll be fine by then." you know that because you had told Charles that if they didn't fix their problem before said flight, you wouldn't be going home with them, you could not deal with that awkwardness. And Charles would do anything for you, so of course he and Carlos were going to make up.

Oscar perked up, smiling at you, "I'm going home on that flight too."

Your face lit up, "You live in Monaco now right?"

Oscar nodded bashfully, he had made the move early that year, during the ‘Leclerc-Piastri adopted son’ situation. He was very quiet about it, so he didn’t expect you to know about it—or frankly, care. “Y-yeah, I thought it would be better with all the traveling.”

“And the tax-evading.”

Oscar let out a loud laugh, no doubt catching the attention of others scattered around the room, you watched him cackle with a smile. “How are you liking it?” you asked.

Oscar sobered down slightly, a grin still present, “It’s not home…but it’s….Monaco.”

You threw your head back with a smile, “It’s better when you get past all the cars and celebrities.”

Oscar nodded, “One of my first days I went hiking," you remember seeing the picture he posted, all sweaty, your eyes widened at the memory, and you shifted flustered "It was nice."

"I can show you some better places if you'd like?

"Really?" Oscar's eyes were wide, full of excitement.

You nodded proudly, "Of course, I've given everyone here a tour of the city, I'm a great guide if I do say so myself."

The lights in Oscar's eyes diminished slightly, for a second, there, he thought he was special, he coughed awkwardly, "Oh yeah?"

You eyed the group behind you, "Since everyone here apparently loves tax evading, I've taken it upon myself to teach them about my home."

Oscar giggled slightly and you contained, raising your brow, "I'm surprised I haven't seen you around, I see George at least three times a week."

Oscar flushed, and this time he was sure you could tell, "Oh I..." he sucked his teeth, "I.. don't really leave my house."

You started at him with squinted eyes for a moment, "...Because of the fans?"

"No...no."

"Because you don't have a car?" you asked, recalling the photo of him riding a bike around the city months ago, you would've thought he would've bought a car since then, or at least borrowed one.

"I have a car."

You laughed in confusion, "Okay then why?"

Oscar shrugged, playing with the ends of his sweater, "I just don't really like to go out."

"Like ever?"

"I go to... grocery stores."

"Oh, Oscar..." you sighed, and the man jumped to defend himself.

"I play sim a lot!...and that's like talking to people?..."

You winced, "Is it though?"

Oscar sighed, looking down at his lap, "...No..."

You pursed your lips, patting his knew softly, "Its okay Oscar...I'll make sure you go out more."

Before he could respond, Lando's loud cheers emerged from the staircase, and Oscar felt your attention slip away from him.

"I'm back, and I bring drinks!" Lando shouted as he hurried over to the group, a tray filled with drinks in his hands. The others cheered. The drink was purple, and it seemed to be fizzling as everyone took one.

"What is this?" Lance blinked up at Lando, who shrugged, Fernando took a small sniff before pulling back in shock; the others looked at him in worry, as he coughed, waving everyone off.

"I have no idea!" Lando yelled, and the other slowly started to put the drink down, "The bartender just told me it would make us forget who won the race tonight!"

Just like that, everyone had picked their glasses back up and quickly swallowed down the drink. Georges's face went black as he rolled his eyes, taking a small sip of his drink, "Assholes.." he whispered.

☾

"You have really pretty eyes..." Oscar slurred as he watched you lay down on the couch, he sat on the floor, legs crossed over each other as he stared into your face.

You hummed, "People say me and Charles have the same eyes..."

Oscar blinked, "Charles has pretty eyes..."

There was no one left awake in the 'private' area, the men were either down on the dance floor, or asleep on the ground, such as Lance, Franco, and Yuki.

The drink had no effect at first, so everyone felt confident drinking another....and another...and another, and before anyone knew it, everyone was far gone, way far gone.

You giggled, bringing a drunken smile onto Oscar's face. You continued to giggle before your face turned serious.

You turned to Oscar with a glare, Oscar visibly jumped, "Do you have a girlfriend, Oscar?"

Gaping in shock, Oscar shook his head like crazy.

Your glare hardened, "I'm gonna need you to say it."

"I don't have a girlfriend." Oscar replied instantly.

You stared for a couple more moments before a bright grin took over your face, "Thank god!" you giggled before turning serious once more, "It seems like everyone is dating someone, and it makes me feel lonely." You quickly (with a small struggle) sat up from the couch, grabbing Oscar's hand.

“At least you don't have a girlfriend.” 

Oscar, the most out of it he's ever been, swayed side to side, “I want to be your girlfriend.” he mumbled, pressing a soft, delicate kiss to your hand. 

You giggled, throwing your head back, “Not girlfriend! Boyfriend silly…and I don't think whiny baby Charles would like that…” 

Oscar sat up straight, “I don't care what Charles thinks,” he did, he really, really, did. “He shouldn't control your life.” In any other situation, Oscar would never say anything like this, in fact, one of the primary reasons he never man up and asked you out (other than the fact that he was sure you did not like him that way) was because he wasn't sure Charles would approve. And if he didn’t have Charles’ approval, then what was the point in even trying? 

“He just thinks he knows best,” you mumbled through a frown. “He doesn't control me…does he?” 

Oscar slipped his hands away from you, moving his arms widely “No! No…I’m dumb, Charles would never control you..”

But it seemed like you weren’t listening anymore, your eyes dazed, “If Charles does control me, then I should do something to get him back..” you turned to Oscar with a glare, he knew you well, you were thinking of ways to get back at Charles..for something he didn’t even do. “For being evil…” 

Oscar laughed, shaking his head, “Charles isn't evil!” You joined him in the laughter. Before your face went blank, “What were we talking about?” 

Oscar decided not to indulge in your evil sibling rivalry plans, “You were telling me how you wanted a boyfriend.” 

You gaped, pointing at Oscar, “You're right! You know Oscar…you would be the perfect boyfriend!” 

Oscar's cheeks went pink, “I would?” he mumbled bashfully. 

You nodded proudly, “Mhm..you are very respectful..you've never stared at my ass, unlike some of the drivers..” Oscar’s mouth opened in shock with a million questions running through his mind, but you didn’t give him time to react, “And you're funny, not like joke funny,” Oscar tried to not let an offended expression take over his face, “But like expression funny. And I’m sure you’d give the best kisses…and! You look like you’d never forget an anniversary.” 

Not to toot his own horn, but you're right, Oscar had a great memory, and if it was your anniversary, he would never forget it. 

You’re face lights, “I have the best idea!” you squealed, standing up and pulling Oscar up with you, you both stumbled. You pulled on his jacket, bringing you face to face, “We should get married!” 

The grin on Oscar’s face was electric, “Yes!” he shouted, accidentally waking up Yuki, who shot up from the cuddle pile on the ground with wide eyes, you two were too focused on your own bubble to notice him.

You gasped, gripping onto Oscar tighter, “Really? You’ll marry me?” 

Oscar gripped onto your shoulders, shaking you back and forth tightly, “Of course I would! I’m not stupid!” 

“Oh I have to tell Charles! He can’t miss my wedding!” 

Oscar nodded, watching with a beaming smile as you pulled out your phone, opening it up before you slowly put it down with a frown. 

“I can’t tell Charles.” your eyes unintentionally watered, “He won’t let me.” You slowly sat down on the small couch. 

Oscar slowly sat next to you, trying to hide his dimmed energy, “Don’t worry about..” he mumbled, “I can wait.” I’ve already waited six years, he thought, what’s a couple more? 

“But you shouldn’t have to wait!’ You groaned, quickly standing up, “We’re getting married tonight!” You stomped your foot, “I’ll just take lots of pictures so Charlie doesn’t miss it!” 

Oscar’s light returned, he accepted the hand you held out for him, “Let’s go get married, Oscar!’ you cheered, leading him down the club stairs.

Yucki watched you two leave, his face full of confusion, he groaned, laying back onto the ground while rubbing his eyes, “Married? Charles is going to kill him.” 

​☾

“I still can’t believe you let the little princess go out without you,” Pierre mumbled through his bites of popcorn. 

Charles rolled his eyes, grabbing another handful of the cornels, “She doesn’t have to be with me all the time, she’s growing up and wants to go out alone.” 

“Okay…but with Lando?” 

“Lando wouldn’t dare touch her. He knows I would throw him into the barriers.” 

Pierre and Charles were lying in bed, a popcorn bucket lay in the middle of them, while a french romance movie played in the background. 

Pierre nodded after a pause “You know who I’m worried about?” 

Charles leaned over to look at the man, “Who?”

“That Australian creep.” 

Charles furrowed his brow,”...Daniel?’

Pierre shot him a look, “No, not Daniel. Oscar.” 

Charles shot up with a choked laugh, “O-oscar?” he threw his head back with a loud laugh, “O-oscar?” 

Pierre watched him with an unamused face, waiting for him to sober, which took longer than you would think. 

“Oscar?” Charles shook his head with a smile as he laid back down, “No..Oscar…” he giggled, “No.” 

Pierre scoffed, “You underestimate him..I’ve seen it,” Pierre’s eyes unfocused, “He is always staring.” 

Charles shrugged, throwing up a kurnell before catching it in his mouth, “Piccina is pretty…people always stare.” 

Pierra shook his head sharply, “No…Oscar stares like he is trying to read her mind or something.. I’m telling you Charles, he is creepy.” 

Charles waved him off, “Trust me. Oscar is the last person who would do something to piccina.” 

​☾

“I still think this is a bad idea..” Lando slurred as he took off his shirt lazily. 

Max nodded in agreement, pulling up his suit pants, “Mhmm..” his head rolled back as he giggled, “Charles is going to blow up,” he made a boom sound.  

“At least Oscar finally grew his balls and asked her out...” Lando giggled, looking over to where you and Oscar stood near the chapel. Oscar was adjusting your veil while you played with his tie. 

“Does it count if they're both drunk?” Max asked. 

Lando thought for a moment, “Maybe..” 

After dragging Oscar down to the dance floor, you two found Max and Lando, who you both let know of your plans to get married. You only needed one of them (to be a witness) so you could legally get married. But they both insisted on joining you. 

You and Oscar were going all out (as out as you could be with a notice of maybe forty minutes) and that included a dress, veil, and suits for Oscar and the groomsmen (Max and Lando)

“You look gorgeous..” Oscar sighed, gazing down into your eyes. 

“You look good too,” You giggled, tightening and untightening his tie. Maybe it was the nerves of doing something so taboo, but you needed something to fidget with. 

“Are you sure about this?” Oscar asked, looking behind as the Elvis priest started to set up his whole thing. 

“Yeah..” you sighed. In another situation you would’ve never even brought up the conversation of you being lonely, much less getting married in a Vegas chapel, but you were completely out of it, and to be fair, so was Oscar, Max, and Lando. 

Speaking of which, the two groomsmen made their way over to you, and patted Oscar on the shoulder, “It’s time.” Lando sang slightly, pushing Oscar to stand on the side of the Elvis priest. Lando followed after him. 

Max grinned down at you, giving you, “You ready?” he giggled. 

You beamed, wrapping your arm around him as ‘here comes the bride’ started playing softly.”Sure am!” 

​☾

There was something so scary about waking up in a room you didn't recognize.

The light was blinding, and it just made your hangover headache ten times worse. You groaned, squinting as you slowly sat up from the unrecognizable bed.

Panicked, you looked around the room–it was trashed, with bottles of wine, and bed sheets scattered everywhere. In terror you looked down at yourself, letting out a sigh of relief at the sight of your clothes still on your body. It was not your clothes, fitting at least five times too big, but still, you took that as a good sign.

Slowly you inched off the bed, and there you noticed there was someone else in the bed, face down, with his arms sprawled out. It was a man. You panicked for a moment, he couldn't be dead, could he? 

Carefully, you walked around the bed and squatted to take a look at who it was, the sight made your stomach churn, "Oscar?" you whispered to yourself.

What were you doing in Oscar Piastri's room of all places?

Omg, had he kidnapped you? You laughed to yourself. No, it was more likely that you kidnapped him.

Shaking your head, you decided to leave, the horror it would be if anyone caught you leaving Oscar’s room, the media would go crazy, you’d have to figure this all out later. You stared at him for a small second before making your way to the room, accidentally crushing a piece of paper that lay on the ground.

You winced, turning to make sure the sound did not wake Oscar up, it didn't. With a sigh of relief, you tiptoed out of the room, missing the wedding dress that was neatly hung on the door. 

As you stumbled through the hotel hallway, you felt all kinds of dirty. Yes, you still had clothes on, but that did not necessarily mean you two didn't do anything. Yikes. You just prayed that Charles hadn't heard anything about this.

It was in this moment that you thanked Carlos Sainz, their small fight was the reason Charles didn’t go out. It was more than likely he didnt see anything.

Taking your hotel room key out of your bra (safe keeping), you turned the corner of the hotel, gasping in horror at who you saw pacing up and down your room door. Your brother, Charles.

His head snapped up at the sound of the gasp, his eyes red and swollen. He did not waste any time running over to you, his pupils were wild as he scanned you up and down multiple times, he was rambling in French, making your head spin by the sheer volume of his voice.

You shushed him, squinting, "Charles.. calm down please."

He pulled you in a tight hug, "Calm down? How can I calm down! You disappeared and didn’t answer your phone, and I have to find out through Instagram that you got married!" Pause. 

You pulled back from the hug, feeling the room spin, "What?" you whispered, although he didnt seem to hear you.

"And listen mon cœur, if you love him then it's okay. We're not mad—just, why didn't you tell us?" He looked down at you with a frown.

You shook your head violently, holding up a finger,

"No no, Charles, what are you talking about?" His sadness quickly turned to confusion, "You got married?"

Your eyes went comically wide, "What!?" you yelled, not caring about your volume.

Charles took a step back, "You disappeared all night and Max posted to social media pictures of your wedding being married. You.. don't remember?"

"No Charles I don't fucking remember!" you shouted in horror, patting yourself down for your phone, just your luck, it wasn't on you.

 "Oh my god.." you groaned, shutting your eyes."What's wrong? You don't remember getting married to your secret boyfriend?"

You looked up at your brother blankly, "Charles, I don't have a secret boyfriend."

Charles tilted his head, slowly speaking, "...Then who did you marry?"

You chose not to answer, letting him piece the puzzle together himself. 

"You got married to a stranger? What is wrong with you?”

"I was drunk!" you threw your arms up in defense.

"Oh, you were drunk!" Charles asked ironically, "I get drunk all the time and I don't get married to random strangers!"

"You act like I wanted this to happen!" You two bickered, not noticing the awkward Australian slowly making his way towards you two.

"Well, you don't seem as freaked out as you should be!" Charles shouted.

"I'm still processing this!" you whined, stomping your feet, just then you two heard a cough. You swiveled around only to come face to face with Oscar, his pale cheeks lit with fire, "Oscar," you smiled, nudging Charles.

Charles looked up at Oscar in confusion, giving him an unsure smile.

"Sorry to interrupt," Oscar rubbed the back of his neck, before presenting two items, your phone, and a piece of slightly crumbled paper, 

You gasped, taking the phone with a smile, but before you could thank him, Charles spoke up,

"Why do you have her phone?" his voice was low, and no amusement was present.

You looked at Oscar with wide eyes, shaking your head slightly, Charles could not find out that you two had spent the night together, no way he would take that well.

With all the ruckus, you yourself hadn’t managed to piece the biggest puzzle together. Maybe if you were in a better headspace and realized that it was Oscar who you had drunkenly married, you would have stopped Oscar from even being near Charles. 

Oscar swallowed thickly, blinking, before he could even mutter a word, the paper in his hands was ripped away. The panic was clear on his face, as he tried to reach for it, but to no avail.

You watched in confusion as Oscar clearly started to panic, you glanced back at your brother who was staring down at the piece of paper with never seen before anger.

"What is it?" you mumbled, looking down at his hands, it was a certificate, you slowly read it, dreadfulness morphing quickly.

This document certifies OSCAR JACK PIASTRI & Y/N LECLERC, were united in marriage in the LITTLE LAS VEGAS WEDDING CHAPEL.

Oh shit.

Charles glanced between you and Oscar, whose mouth was pressed tightly.

"You took advantage of my sister?" Charles whispered, and Oscar's eyes widened along with yours.

"No, Charles–" you tried, but Charles had already crumpled the marriage certificate and thrown it to the side.

"You took advantage of my sister?!" Charles yelled, and the next thing you knew, Charles was on top of Oscar, his fist landing on his beautiful face. 

taglist: @stopeatread @freyathehuntress @morganalatina21 @sltwins @nichmeddar @landossainz @f1daydreamer @no-144444 @delululeclerc @weekendlusting @rifran @lunamelona @awritingtree @shimmermotorsport @sp1rl @teamnovalak @piastri-fvx @bowielovesyou @mastermindbaby @widow-cevans @anotherapollokid @nxlx96 @koibleufish @bokutos-babyowl @charlesgirl16 @mayusaatma @isotopemylove @sadiemack9 @nataliambc @bravo-delta-eccho @theseerbetweenus @woozarts @theblueblub @armystay89 @suns3treading @thisbitxhs-blog

White Noise | MV1

Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: [Soulmate AU] In a world where soulmate marks promise connection, one person’s endless wait collides with another’s relentless pursuit of a life beyond destiny.

Warning(s): Mild Language, angst, hurt/comfort for like a small bit, fluff, for like tiny moment. Basically, they finally talk. Alternating povs.

Part 4 ~Series Masterlist~

"I've been the archer, I've been the prey, Screaming, who could ever leave me, darling?....But who could stay?"

Y/N's heart was racing, pounding in her chest like a drum, each beat reverberating through her entire body.

The moment she had stepped into the room, she felt it—the unmistakable pull, the presence of him. Her soul’s reaction was instantaneous, a thrumming sensation deep within her, filling the hollow space that had plagued her for as long as she could remember.

The pulse, the ringing in her ears, it was all him.

But this wasn’t supposed to happen. Not now. Not like this.

She had always thought, somehow, that she would be prepared for this moment, where she would have to finally confront him, but standing in the midst of a crowded party, the weight of everything crashing down on her, she wasn’t ready.

The memories of Bahrain flooded her mind—the first time she had felt it, the moment her heart had surged with desperation. But it had been too much.

She had run then, and now, she was running again.

Her feet carried her forward without her consent, an instinct she couldn’t stop. She had made it to the hallway, the coolness of the air helping to clear her head, but she knew, deep down, that he was following.

She could hear his footsteps, his voice rising above the noise of the party.

"Wait!"

His shout cut through her thoughts, piercing the air with urgency. His voice—his tone—was enough to make her stumble, her heart skipping, the sound of it thrumming in her chest, drowning everything else out.

"Stop, please."

The pleading, desperate tone sent a sharp tremor through her. She couldn’t explain why, but it was like an invisible thread pulling at her, urging her to turn around.

Her body seemed to act on its own, and before she could think, she was facing him, standing there in the hallway, his figure illuminated by the soft lights behind him.

Her breath caught in her throat as her gaze met his. His eyes were wide, searching—no, desperate, as he took a step closer, his presence magnetic, impossible to ignore.

He was right there. So close. Yet, the distance between them felt like an entire universe.

"Please, just let me talk to you. Once. Please."

The sincerity in his voice was enough to steal the air from her lungs.

She had tried so hard to block out the pull, the ache deep inside of her, but hearing that one word—please—it undid everything.

It made her pause, made her stand still. It was as though the universe had stopped just for this moment, just for him to speak those words, those two simple syllables that somehow held the weight of a thousand unspoken things.

For a moment, she couldn’t find her voice. The bond, the overwhelming pull of their connection, was like a storm inside her.

She could feel her pulse in every part of her body, an unbearable rhythm that matched the frantic thrum of her thoughts.

Why is this happening now?

The question spun in her mind, but she didn’t have the answers. She didn’t want to have the answers. Not yet. Not when she had worked so hard to push this all away.

But as his eyes searched hers, she realized there was no denying it anymore. She couldn’t pretend anymore.

He was here, in front of her, and that was something she had to face.

This isn’t a game, her mind whispered to her. This is real.

She swallowed, trying to steady her breath, but her heart wouldn’t let her. The sound of it, so loud, so clear in her ears, only seemed to grow louder the longer she stood there, staring at him.

He took a cautious step forward, as though unsure whether to approach or wait for her permission.

Y/N could see the hesitation in his posture, the way his muscles were tense, ready to react to whatever she might do next.

She nodded almost imperceptibly, a gesture that was barely there but enough to give him the signal.

Slowly, she turned and began walking down the hallway, her heels clicking sharply against the polished floors.

She heard his footsteps behind her, closer now, a steady rhythm that matched the pounding in her chest.

She wasn’t sure if it was because of the bond or the weight of the moment, but it felt as though the air around her was thickening, pressing down on her, making it harder to breathe.

The hallway seemed to stretch endlessly, but Y/N didn’t stop walking until she reached a door at the far end, a small storage room that had been used to store event supplies. It was tucked away from the bustling party, isolated, quiet—perfect for what needed to happen next.

Without looking back, she pushed the door open and stepped inside. The room was dimly lit, boxes and supplies stacked haphazardly against the walls. The space smelled faintly of cardboard and dust, but Y/N didn’t care. She needed this isolation. She needed to clear her head, even if just for a moment.

The door clicked shut behind her, and she finally turned to face him.

Max stood just inside the doorway, his hand on the handle as if he was still unsure whether to cross the threshold completely. His expression was a mix of determination and uncertainty, and she could feel the weight of his gaze on her, like it was pulling at her from all directions.

He stepped forward then, his presence filling the small space between them.

Her eyes flickered to him, then quickly down to the floor. She couldn’t meet his gaze for too long, not yet. Not when she was still so terrified of what this meant.

Max didn’t speak right away. He just stood there, close but still holding back, waiting for her to say something, to give him some sort of sign that she was ready to talk.

But all she could do was breathe—deep, steadying breaths, trying to calm herself down. The pulse in her chest was almost deafening. She knew that she had to speak, there was no turning back now.

But still, she hesitated.

Max shifted on his feet, the tension in his posture thick, as if he was about to break, but he held himself together—barely. His fingers were twitching at his sides, and he felt the hum deep in his chest, a gnawing ache that wouldn’t subside.

He cleared his throat, the sound breaking the heavy silence like a crack in a wall. "Max," he said, his voice rough, but it wasn’t the authoritative tone he used in the paddock, or the smooth calm of someone used to dealing with media.

This was Max—vulnerable, unsure. The kind of Max who didn’t often show himself.

"Max Verstappen," he added, as though his name should mean something, though he already knew it wouldn’t. Not with the way she ran from him.

Y/N didn’t react, not right away. Her eyes were fixed on the floor, her arms crossed over her chest, a protective shield she had built up over the years and didn’t dare lower. She wasn’t sure what would happen if she did.

Max couldn’t help himself; he took a step closer, the pull drawing him forward as though the space between them was shrinking. But she didn’t move, her gaze still locked downward, her posture as stiff as steel.

"I don’t bite," he added with a half-smile, though it was strained, the humor barely there. He tried to make light of it, but it wasn’t working. The tension was too thick, the pulse between them too strong, too loud in his ears.

She remained silent, the words staying on the tip of her tongue. Why was he still here? Why couldn’t he leave her be?

He pressed on, the silence growing unbearable. His frustration was creeping in, and he didn’t bother hiding it. "You’re not gonna run again, are you? I don’t know what the hell happened back there, but this..." He gestured between them, his hands opening slightly, his frustration flaring.

"This can’t be a mistake. I felt it, and I know you did too." His words came out blunt, as direct as he could manage, with no filters, no hesitation.

Y/N’s lips pressed together, and she took in a slow breath, but the words didn’t come. She wasn’t sure what to say. She wasn’t sure if she was allowed to say anything.

She could feel the pulsing, the hum, the ache in her bones, her chest, her heart. It was all him. But how could she acknowledge it?

"Why did you run?" Max’s voice cracked just slightly as he asked, the vulnerability that he rarely showed slipping through.

He didn’t wait for an answer, though. He knew. He felt it.

"You think I’m just some guy in a hotel room, shaking hands with sponsors, a guy who just races for a living, and that’s all I am? You think that’s all I can be?" His voice softened, but the frustration was still there, curling around his words like smoke. "I don’t even know your name, but I can’t... I can’t just let you run away again."

Y/N’s breath hitched at his words. There was a bite in his voice now, a quiet hurt that she couldn’t ignore. It stung, sharp and unexpected.

Max took another step, his eyes locking on hers, desperate for something—anything—that would help him understand this.

But all he found was cold, detached silence. It was like hitting a wall, and yet, somehow, that wall was cracking, just a little, with each second that passed. He could feel it in his chest, in the air between them.

"Are you just going to stay silent?" he asked, frustration giving way to a tinge of sadness.

"Is that how you’re going to play this? Because I can’t stand it. I want us to talk, to figure this out, I've waited so long. I—" He stopped, realizing how much he was saying, how exposed he had become. He had never been this open with anyone. Not like this.

Y/N’s gaze flicked up then, just briefly, her eyes meeting his. The connection between them flickered, a brief, sharp spark that ignited everything inside him. She was silent, but in her eyes, he saw something.

Fear. Anger. And beneath that, a thread of longing—a recognition.

“I’m not going to run,” she finally said, her voice firm, but with a quiver beneath the surface. Her words were clipped, like they were hard to get out, like they didn’t fit the situation.

She had never been good at this. At feeling things, at letting herself feel things that weren’t controlled. But here she was. Here.

Max’s expression softened, but only just. He could see through her, even if she tried to hide it. He could see the cracks in her facade, the way she was breaking just a little with every word, every silence.

“Then what are you going to do?” he asked, almost desperate now. He stepped closer again, close enough that the hum between them seemed to pulse with an intensity that made his heart race.

He could feel the gravity between them, the pull, the ache. And it was growing. She was so close—so close but still, so far.

She met his gaze fully now, the stone wall that she’d built around herself finally starting to crumble, piece by piece. The look in her eyes was something Max had never seen before—not in the paddock, not in the chaos of the races, not in the heat of victory. This was something else.

______________________________

Max’s eyes were still on her, searching for something, maybe an answer that would make sense of all the chaos inside her, but there was no easy way to explain this. No way to simplify what had become a tangled mess of emotions and realities.

She couldn't make this easy for him. She knew that, deep down. But it didn’t make the truth any less painful.

"I know you, Max," she started, her voice quiet but steady, though every word felt like it was scraping against her throat. "I know what you’ve worked for. The way people look at you, the expectations, the pressure."

Her chest tightened with the weight of her thoughts, and she couldn’t look away from him, even though she wanted to. “You’ve been built for this life. Racing, winning, being the best. You’ve been molded for the world you live in, Max. And you’ve made it, you’ve fucking made it. I see that. I admire it. I admire you."

She closed her eyes for a moment, swallowing the lump that had lodged in her throat, feeling the bitter taste of regret already creeping in. "But you don’t understand. I can’t be a part of it. Not with you."

Max flinched slightly, and she could see the hurt flash across his face. She wasn’t trying to hurt him, but it was inevitable. There was no way around it. Her words cut deeper than she intended.

"I know the Max Verstappen the world sees.” She swallowed, her throat tight. “But I don’t know you. Not the man standing in front of me. Not the man who is supposed to be my soulmate.”

Max inhaled sharply, his hands twitching at his sides like he wanted to reach for her. But he didn’t. Not yet.

“I waited for you too, you know?" Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it cracked under the weight of the words. “For years, I waited. At first, it was hope. Every birthday, every trip, every new place—I looked for you. I searched for something, anything, that could mean you were close. And then… hope turned into anger. Because you weren’t there. And I was supposed to be okay with that?” She shook her head. “I was supposed to live my life knowing the person meant for me was out there but nowhere near me?”

Max’s jaw clenched, the muscle in his cheek twitching.

“And then the anger faded too. And all that was left was... indifference.” She met his gaze then, unwavering.

“Because I had to move on. I had to build something for myself. I had to be enough for myself. For me”

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “And I did it. I built a life, Max. A life that didn’t need a soulmate to feel complete. A life that I carved out with my own two hands, while people pitied me for never finding you. While they whispered that I would never be whole.” Her voice hardened.

“But I proved them wrong. I am whole. I have my business. My work. A life that makes sense, a life that I control.”

Her hands trembled again, and this time she didn’t bother hiding them. She looked at him, at the storm in his eyes, at the way his lips pressed into a thin line, at the way he was fighting—really fighting—not to interrupt her.

“And now, suddenly, you’re here.” Her voice was raw now, like it had been scraped against glass. “Just when I finally have a grasp on everything, you appear and you expect me to throw all of it away? Just because the fucking universe says we’re meant to be?”

Max flinched, just barely.

“How do you know we’ll make it, Max?” She demanded. “You race. I work. You live in the spotlight, I built my life in the shadows. You chase adrenaline, I crave steadiness. Our lives are nothing alike.” She exhaled, her breath shaky. “And then there’s the fans. The media. The circus that follows you wherever you go. How am I supposed to handle that? How do we fit, Max? How can we?”

Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.

She licked her lips, voice quieter now. “I’ve spent my whole life proving that I don’t need another person to be whole. That I don’t need someone to complete me. And now you’re asking me to risk all of that… for the idea of you?”

She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling. “How am I supposed to do that?”

Her words hung in the air between them, heavy and unrelenting. She could see it in his face—the hurt, the frustration, the determination.

____________________________

Max let the silence stretch, let her words settle deep in his bones. He felt each one like a weight pressing against his ribs—sharp, heavy, relentless. But he didn’t move, didn’t waver.

Because she was here. Because she hadn’t run.

And because she was wrong.

His voice, when it came, was quiet but steady. “You say you don’t know me. And you don’t.” His gaze was unwavering. “But I don’t know you either.”

Her breath caught.

“And yet,” Max continued, taking a slow step closer, “I do.”

She tensed, but she didn’t retreat.

“I know how you walked into that room, completely composed, completely in control—until you saw me. I know the exact second you felt it, the moment the ground tilted under your feet, the way your eyes widened, just a fraction, before you turned and.. left.” His tone was measured, deliberate. “I know you’re standing here right now because you want to be, even if you don’t want to admit it.”

Her fingers twitched by her sides, barely perceptible.

Max took a step forward, slow, measured, like approaching something fragile. “You talk about waiting for me, about searching for me, about how hope turned into anger, then nothing at all.” His voice hardened. “Do you think I don’t understand that? Do you think I didn’t feel the same fucking thing?”

She inhaled sharply.

“I grew up knowing I had someone out there. Someone I was supposed to find. And I hated it.” His jaw tensed. “Because how the hell was I supposed to look for someone when my entire life was planned before I could even fucking walk?”

He let out a humorless laugh. “I didn’t have time to search, Y/N. I didn’t have the luxury. I had racing. I had pressure. I had expectations so heavy they nearly crushed me before I was old enough to understand them. I was too busy proving I deserved to be where I was.” His voice turned rough, honest. “And I did it alone.”

“You say I wasn’t there for any of it.” His voice lowered.

“Neither were you.”

She flinched and Max felt his heart break a little.

His tone softened. “You don’t know if we’re meant to be together, and you know what? Maybe we’re not.” He shrugged.

“Maybe we’ll fucking hate each other. Maybe you’ll get sick of me in a month, and I’ll drive you insane. But we don’t know that.” He exhaled. “What we do know is that this is real. It's in our bones, inked on our fucking skin, in the way our hearts have been beating for years, this bond—this is real.”

Silence.

Her lips parted like she wanted to argue, wanted to deny it, but no words came out.

Max studied her, eyes searching. “You think this is going to destroy the life you built.” A beat of silence. “Maybe it will.”

Her head snapped up, eyes flashing, but he wasn’t done.

“Or maybe it’ll make it better.” His voice was quiet, but sure. “Maybe you’ll finally let yourself have something that isn’t just work, something that isn’t just proving yourself over and over again to people who don’t matter."

He held her gaze, unwavering. "The truth is, no one knows how this will work. There’s no plan for this. No blueprint. But that doesn’t mean we walk away.”

Her eyes burned into his, searching, dissecting.

Max took a final step closer, his voice barely above a whisper now. “That doesn't mean we have to give up our chance—our realest fucking chance to be happy, I'm not asking you to throw your life away for me” He shook his head. “I want you to let me be part of it.”

Something cracked in her gaze.

________________________

The tear catches her by surprise.

She feels it before she registers it, the slow slide of warmth trailing down her cheek, an undeniable crack in the armor she had spent years perfecting.

And then—Max is there.

His hand moves before he thinks, his thumb brushing against her skin, wiping it away. The touch is featherlight, a whisper of warmth against her cheek—

And the bond pulses.

Loud. Violent. Consuming.

A shockwave of something unseen, something ancient, something theirs rips through them, and the force of it takes them both down.

Y/N stumbles, her knees buckling, but she never hits the floor.

Max is there—solid, unyielding, his reflexes faster than thought.

His arms catch her, cradle her, steady her as they both collapse onto the cold, dusty floor of the storage room.

And then—silence.

It isn’t tense. It isn’t heavy. It just is.

Her head rests against his chest, the rapid beat of his heart a perfect mirror to her own. His arms are around her, firm but careful, holding her close in a way that feels like he’s meant to.

And the bond—the bond hums.

Not a pulse, not a roar, just a steady, gentle hum. A soundless lullaby. A sigh of relief.

Y/N exhales, her breath ghosting over his suit, and for the first time in her life, she feels content. She doesn’t think. She doesn’t fight it.

She just is.

Her body curls instinctively into his, her forehead pressing against his chest, her fingers gripping lightly at his jacket as she burrows closer. It’s unconscious, inevitable. A pull she can’t deny.

Max feels it too.

His hold tightens, his grip shifting just slightly as he tucks her in closer. His heartbeat steadies, aligning with hers. His breath slows. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move—just holds her, lets her be held.

And in that moment, on the cold, dirty floor of some forgotten storage room, Max Verstappen knows exactly what paradise feels like.

Then—

The illusion shatters.

Y/N’s eyes snap open. The warmth turns to ice in an instant, her body going rigid against his.

Max feels the shift the moment it happens. The way she stiffens, the way her breath hitches like she’s just remembered something terrible.

And then—she pulls away.

Like she can’t get away fast enough.

Max feels it like a physical blow.

She scrambles to her feet, her movements sharp, almost frantic, as she wrangles her hands together, fingers twisting against each other—a nervous tic, he realizes. An anxiety response.

He gets up slower, brushing dust from his sleeves, forcing his breath to stay even, forcing himself to stay.

Silence stretches between them.

This time, it isn’t peaceful.

This time, it’s awkward. Tense. Something lingering between them, something neither of them can name, something neither of them can face.

Y/N is the first to break it.

Her voice is quiet, but firm. “Time, Max.”

A pause.

“I need time.”

And then she turns, and walks away.

Max is left standing there.

The hum in his chest—so loud, so certain just moments ago—fades into something hollow, something aching.

She’s gone.

The warmth of her body, the perfect way she fit against him, the peace he had never known—ripped away as if it had never been real.

He lets out a breath, slow and shaky, like he’s trying to steady himself on the edge of something devastating.

He had her.

For a second, for a fleeting, impossible moment, Max Verstappen had everything.

And now—

Now, he has nothing.

________________________________________

Thank you for reading!

If you liked this part, please leave a like a comment and a reblog!

Well, well, well, what do you think is going to happen next? This took out alot from me. I'm the type of woman who feels that I don't need a man to complete me. And yet, I yearn for love so much, that it hurts. So maybe I'm pouring a bit of myself into this. I can only hope that you all like it.

Jules♡

Taglist: @anamiad00msday @evie-119 @that-one-little-soybean @six-call @stressed-cherry @il0vereadingstuff @whatevenisthisxxxxx @freyathehuntress @nina-or-anna-or-nora @allthings-fandoms @larastark3107 @myescapefromthislife @wertyuizxcvbnm @halleest @hs2016 @lucyysthings @justaf1girl @bernelflo @mendes-bae @chelseyyouraverageluigi @llando4norris @sid-is-gr8 @henna006 @hurtblossom @quinquinquincy @ts1mp0ne @spidercat-soccerfan @kodzuvk @wherethefuckisthething @hellowgoodbye @prttylight @l4ndonorizz @edgyficuselastica @k-kaliop @charlesgirl16 @chloes-book-corner @1mverstappen @inchidentofftrack @blackmage24 @angelluv16 @alice-went-away @teamnovalak @wierdflowerpower

Candid Love | LN4

Lando Norris X Girlfriend! Reader

Summary: Lando and Y/N's first 'I love you' is on a live stream.

Warning(s): Mild Language, Insecure Lando, they both cry, fluff.

“I’ve been in love before, but right now, in this moment, I feel more and more like I was made for you"

Y/N and Lando had been dating for six months now. It had started casually—just a few hangouts here and there, laughing over inside jokes, and sharing quiet moments between the chaos of their lives. But somewhere along the way, it turned into something deeper, something neither of them had expected.

Y/N was a professional painter. She was known for her bold use of color, the way her pieces captured emotion in abstract forms that left people feeling connected, even if they couldn’t quite put into words why.

Her work had started to gain some recognition, and the online community adored her unique style and outgoing personality.

She was confident, creative, and didn’t take herself too seriously. Her fans and followers loved her for that, especially the playful banter she shared with Lando, who often appeared in her streams after they started going out together.

Lando had convinced her to do a livestream with him tonight, much to her initial hesitation. But of course, it was hard for her to deny her boyfriend anything.

The warmth of Y/N’s flat was a familiar comfort, infused with the scent of oil paints and faint traces of Lando’s cologne. The wooden floors bore the marks of past artistic endeavors, streaked with remnants of paint splatters that refused to fade.

They stood in her living room, a massive canvas propped up on the easel in front of them, already a chaotic mess of color—thanks mostly to Lando, who had no regard for composition or restraint.

The livestream had been running for nearly an hour now, and the energy was at an all-time high. The chat was a nonstop blur of messages, fans feeding off their chaotic chemistry, hyping them up.

Lando had convinced her to do this, claiming it would be "fun"—and to be fair, it was. The entire session had been filled with ridiculous Q&As, an all-out paint war, and Y/N trying (and failing) to teach Lando proper brush techniques.

Lando, who stood behind her, had his chin propped lazily on her shoulder while she scrolled through the comments.

"Alright, next question to Lando," Y/N announced, reading from the chat. "If you and Lando were in a zombie apocalypse, who’s getting eaten first?"

Lando scoffed, dipping his brush into an alarming amount of orange paint. "Obviously me. You'd betray me for food in a heartbeat."

"I wouldn't betray you!" Y/N gasped, feigning offense. "I would just… strongly consider my survival options."

"Wow." Lando nudged her shoulder. "Unbelievable. And I thought you loved me."

There was a split-second pause. Y/N felt it—the weight of that word hanging between them, unspoken but suddenly there. But before she could react, Lando kept talking, oblivious to what he’d almost said.

"Anyway," he continued, "I'd probably survive longer. I’m quick. I’d just leave you behind—"

Y/N smacked his arm. "See? Betrayal! I knew it!"

@ F1fan89 Y/N LITERALLY JUST SAID SHE’D LET HIM GET EATEN FIRST

@ McLaren4Lyf bet lando would turn into a zombie but still simp for y/n

@ LiveLaughLando THEY ARE SO IN LOVE AND SO STUPID OMG

"Alright, ignoring that" she announced giving him a mock glare, her eyes flickered over the chat. "What is Lando’s most annoying habit?"

Lando let out an exaggerated gasp, gripping his chest in mock offense. "I don’t have any annoying habits."

Y/N scoffed so hard she nearly choked. "Okay, first of all, that’s a fucking lie—"

"Name one," Lando challenged, smirking.

"Easy," she said, turning toward the camera. "He claps. Like a fucking lot."

Lando blinked. "Excuse me?"

"No, listen, guys, I’m so serious," she insisted, her hands gesturing wildly. "He doesn’t just clap—he slams his hands together like he’s trying to summon the gods. And he does it fucking repeatedly. It's like Hell's gates are being opened. Like, you could be in a peaceful room, and then all of a sudden—"

She clapped once, loudly, and then again, and again, the sound echoing in the flat. Lando immediately burst out laughing, shaking his head.

"You are lying right now," he said through wheezes.

"I am not! You dent the air when you do it! It’s actually terrifying."

Lando clapped his hands together—loud. "Like this?" And then he went to do it again.

"YES!" Y/N shouted, pointing. "Exactly like that!" She stopped his hands from moving and making her ears go deaf.

The chat was howling.

Lando, still laughing, wiped a tear from his eye. "Alright, alright. But if we’re exposing annoying habits—" He turned to face the camera, grinning. "She snores in bed."

Y/N gasped so hard she nearly lost oxygen. "No," she whispered, placing a hand over her heart. "No, you did not just say that."

Lando was already in tears, cackling at her reaction.

"Walk. Away," Y/N said, pointing to the door. "Right now."

"Y/N—"

"We’re boutta throw hands," she declared, talking steps back from him dramatically.

She bounced lightly on her feet, shifting into a boxer’s stance—sideways, fists raised, doing that little fighter jump like she was about to step into a UFC ring.

Lando lost it. He clutched his stomach, howling with laughter, his entire body shaking.

"Come here and fight me like a man!" Y/N challenged, her footwork growing increasingly ridiculous.

Lando, still grinning, reached out and caught her wrist, yanking her forward. She landed against him with a surprised laugh, her back pressing into his chest as his arms wrapped around her.

"God, I fucking love you."

The words left Lando’s mouth in the middle of his laughter, as easy and unguarded as breathing.

Silence.

@ norrisforever Did Lando just drop an ‘I love you’? I’m dying 😭😭😭🙏🏻

@ slayyyqueenLando Lando is literally a walking emotional disaster and I’m HERE for it

@ bailandooo DID I HEAR THAT RIGHT?

The chat messages kept flying, but neither of them saw them anymore. Y/N’s hands were still over his arms, her fingers unconsciously gripping the fabric of his hoodie. Lando’s arms, which had been playfully holding her, suddenly felt stiff. His breath hitched.

Y/N blinked. "Did you just say you love me?"

Lando had gone completely still. And then, under his breath, barely above a whisper—

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."

The chat was going crazy.

@ landomclarenchamps AIN'T NO FUCKING WAY I JUST HEARD THAT IWBNSWJASJWAN

@ landowecanbechampionisaid I FUCKING HEARD THAT OMG OMG ITS HAPPENING

@ bigfanof_norris No fucking way Lando fucking Norris just casually dropped an ‘I love you’. Like, that was not planned, they’re both in shock right now 😭😭

@ LandoXy/n_fan_acc OMFG OMFG OMFG ITS FUCKING HAPPEOMG AND ITS LIVE DO THEY EVEN SEE US🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

@ beyond_y/n I’m gonna need Y/N to stop making me fall in love with her harder every single day. This shit’s getting out of hand

@ paintandlovey/n If these two don’t get married, I swear to god I’ll riot. This is the realest shit ever💕💕💕

@ Ferrariismylifeblood THEY DON'T EVEN SEE US WTH LANDO, Y/NS BOUTTA CRY HOLY FUCKING SHIT NDMDJWKXJWMMS

@ newy4champion I’m calling it now, these two are getting married before the year’s out

Y/N turned her head slightly, catching the way his eyes had gone wide, his mouth barely parted as if he could somehow take it back. "Fucking hell," he muttered, still whispering, his whole body frozen. "Yeah, I just said that. Holy shit."

Y/N squeezed his arm, grounding herself. Her vision was blurry, and it took her a second to realize that her eyes were burning. Her throat felt tight, emotion crashing over her like a tidal wave.

She was crying.

Lando must’ve realized at the same time because his arms instinctively tightened around her. "Oh, fuck," he mumbled, voice thick. He tucked his face against her neck, as if trying to disappear. "I’m so sorry."

Y/N immediately turned in his arms, grabbing his face with both hands. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

Lando’s hands found her waist, gripping like he was terrified she might slip away. "I just—you—gods, Y/N, I was so fucking scared." His voice cracked, and Y/N could feel him trembling.

Her heart clenched.

"You don’t have to be," she whispered, her thumbs brushing over his cheekbones, catching a stray tear. "I love you, Lando. So fucking much."

Lando choked on a breath. And then—

He crumbled.

His knees buckled, and he dropped to the floor, pulling Y/N down with him. His hands clutched at her like she was the only thing keeping him from falling apart entirely.

"God, I was so scared, Y/N," he was saying, his words rushed, panicked. "I love you so fucking much, and if you didn’t love me—god, I was so scared—I could’ve lost you, oh my god—"

Y/N silenced him with her hands on either side of his face, tilting his head up. "Lando," she said, firm but soft. His eyes, glossy and overwhelmed, met hers. "I will never, ever not love you. Never."

His breath hitched.

"I love you, Lando Norris," she continued, her voice thick with emotion. "I love you with all my heart. With everything I have. And everything I ever will be."

Then, she kissed him.

Soft, warm, and lingering, her lips pressing against every tear-streaked part of his face before finally meeting his mouth. Lando let out a shaky breath, melting into her, his fingers curling into the fabric of her sweater like he never wanted to let go.

They were both crying, but they were smiling too.

And then—

"Oh my god," Y/N muttered suddenly, pulling back just enough to look at him properly. "The live is still on."

Lando groaned, dropping his head onto her shoulder. "I know," he whined, still half-laughing, half-crying.

Y/N wiped at her face, only to realize she was still crying too. "I have never cried on camera before, oh my god."

Lando let out a laugh, breathless and teary, wrapping his arms around her again. They sat like that for a few moments, foreheads pressed together, until they finally got up.

They turned toward the phone, which was still propped up, still very much streaming to an audience of thousands. The chat was in absolute chaos.

Y/N reached for the phone with shaky hands, still sniffling, still overwhelmed, but utterly happy. Her fingers brushed against Lando’s as they both steadied themselves in front of the camera. The chat was moving at the speed of light, messages flying in so fast she could barely read them.

She let out a breathless laugh, wiping at her tear-streaked cheeks. "Okay, guys, that is not how I planned it—" She cut herself off with a choked giggle, still crying, still laughing. "Fucking hell, I’m still crying—"

Lando had the biggest grin on his face, eyes shining with pure, unfiltered joy.

"Okay, anyway," she continued, voice still shaking, "you guys better not tease me or Lando. This was not planned, but holy shit, it’s the best day of my life."

Lando, still watching her with the softest expression, tightened his arm around her waist and pulled her close, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead. "I love you so much, Y/N."

Her breath hitched, and she let out a disbelieving laugh, still crying. "Oh my god," she whispered, shaking her head. "I love you too. I never thought I’d say it."

And there they were—crying and smiling, their faces still damp with tears, their fingers still tangled together, so in love it was almost ridiculous.

The chat had completely lost it.

@ F1Fanatic ACTUAL SOULMATES OH MY GOD

@ LiveLaughLando THIS WAS THE MOST REAL LOVE CONFESSION I’VE EVER WITNESSED

@ Y/N_Lando4Ever NOT THEM BOTH CRYING AND SMILING I CAN’T BREATHE

@ CryingInTheClub BEST DAY OF MY LIFE TOO WTF

_________________________________________

Thank you for reading!

If you liked this story please leave a like a comment and a reblog!

On my monthlies. Needed some hurt comfort, Lando is my favourite one for that genre because of his mental health awareness thing. Expect more stories after this week. I'm unfortunately quite sick, more than I thought. But it also gives me time to write, so there is that.

Jules♡

Taglist: @anamiad00msday @evie-119 @that-one-little-soybean @six-call @stressed-cherry @il0vereadingstuff @whatevenisthisxxxxx @freyathehuntress @nina-or-anna-or-nora @allthings-fandoms @larastark3107 @myescapefromthislife @wertyuizxcvbnm @halleest @hs2016 @lucyysthings @justaf1girl @bernelflo @mendes-bae @chelseyyouraverageluigi @llando4norris @sid-is-gr8 @henna006 @hurtblossom @quinquinquincy @ts1mp0ne @spidercat-soccerfan @kodzuvk @wherethefuckisthething @hellowgoodbye @prttylight @l4ndonorizz @edgyficuselastica @k-kaliop @charlesgirl16 @chloes-book-corner @1mverstappen @inchidentofftrack @blackmage24 @angelluv16 @alice-went-away @teamnovalak @wierdflowerpower

Throw away the caution! | LN4

word count: roughly 2k

warnings: overprotective brother Max Fewtrell, mutual pinning (a bit), Oscar is confused most of the time, bad writing (yes it requires a warning)

summary: Lando (annoyingly) has a crush on non other than his best friends younger sister, Y/n Fewtrell. It was his well kept secret. Why? Because he knows how overprotective Max is of you. What happens when Carlos and Oscar find out about it? Will a drunken night out celebrating a race weekend change their relationship?

a/n: Originally this was supposed to be a one shot but I’m turning this into a mini series. They’re probably going to be three parts. Please note that english is not my first language, I’m sorry for any mistakes in advance.

Lando and Max have been through a lot together as long as both of them can remember. And for just as long Lando has known y/n, Max slightly younger sister. What started as a harmless friendship slowly turned into something more, at least in Landos eyes.

It wasn’t until he was a teenager that he admitted his feelings to himself. He kept them hidden and a secret from everyone. At first he thought that they’re just temporary. The girl he used to climb trees with and joke around for hours grew into a beautiful young lady after all. But the feelings only grew stronger.

Lando was well into his twenties when he talked to someone about his crush, it was no other than his friend and ex teammate, Carlos Sainz. At first he tried to talk Lando into admitting his feelings to you but that was without success. Carlos tried to figure out if the feelings are both sided but he simply didn’t see the Fewtrell siblings enough for that.

He was the silent emotional support through everything after that, trying to get them together alone as much as possible without Max noticing. After all, Carlos didn't know how he would react to the news of his childhood friend loving his younger sister. There were a few close calls in the past but as far as anyone was concerned neither Max nor y/n knew about Landos feelings.

If anyone would ask him why he doesn’t confess his answer would probably be along the lines of wanting to concentrate on his career first. In truth he was scared of your rejection and your brother's disappointment. He and Max are friends after all and it might feel like some sort of betrayal to the older Brit.

Lando was currently in London since he had to be back at the MTC for his pre-season training and meetings. He loved being in his home country even if that meant that winter break was over. It means that he gets to spend time with his friends. Like this evening for example.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You hate being late. It wasn't even your fault that a meeting with your boss ran over the scheduled time or that traffic today was worse than the past few days. You were meeting up with your brother, childhood friend and his teammate. And while Max assured you that your late arrival wouldn’t be a problem, anxiety and guilt still washed over you. You navigate your car without a problem down the familiar street to your brother's appartement. The night was cold but with a clear sky, a rare occurrence.

“You know you don’t have to get me anything when you come around.” Max greets you at the door as soon as he sees the flowers clutched in your hand. “Yeah yeah” you wave him off. The apartment was quiet, too quiet for the normal chaos that erupts when Lando and Max are together.

Max notices your confusion. “They got caught up with work stuff too. That’s why I told you not to worry.” He grabs the flowers ready to put them into an improvised vase while adding, “they should be here any minute though.”

“You could’ve added that little detail in your sentence,” you sternly joke with him. He pulls you into his arms mumbling something about next time he will. You missed this, the familiar feeling of being in your brother's arms. Work has been hell for you recently and you didn't get to spend much time with your family or friends. That’s why you didn't think twice about coming around tonight to spend a relaxing evening with your brother and an old friend of yours, Lando.

Before you could do anything else the doorbell rang, announcing the arrival of the McLaren drivers. “I’ve got it,” you said to Max before walking towards the door. When you opened it, you were a bit surprised when you saw only Oscar standing there. “Hey Oscar. Where is Lando?” you ask him after you let him into the flat. “Oh, he’s still parking the car or something,” Oscar said, “he’ll be here shortly.” You nodded your head at his explanation, softly closing the door behind him. You didn’t lock it though so Lando could get in easier.

Max came out of the kitchen to greet Oscar. While the two aren’t that close they still get along well, spending their evenings occasionally in bigger groups together. The Aussi was quickly accepted into the little group of you three after he joined Lando as his new teammate two years ago. You went back into the kitchen grabbing drinks for everyone while the boys already chatted about racing. The table was set, the ordered food waiting on the counter. There is only one thing missing now.

You still had a slightly anxious feeling that you couldn't shake off. Maybe it was because you would spend the evening in such close proximity to Lando. You haven’t said it to anyone out loud but you knew what the butterflies in your stomach meant. While you didn’t want to admit it to yourself just yet, you couldn’t hide it anymore. You were crushing hard and of course that person has to be your brother’s best friend.

“Hey mate”, Landos voice rans out through the apartment. He came into the kitchen with a wide smile, dimples showing on full display. He quickly pulled each of you into his arms as a greeting. His arms lingered around you for a bit longer, both of you silently enjoying the feeling. “Come on guys, the food is still warm.” Max called out while putting the boxes in the middle of the table. His voice was a bit rougher than usual, almost like he was hiding his emotions. You didn't notice it nor did Lando. Oscar however did notice it and for a millisecond a confused look crossed his face. It was gone before anyone could really notice it.

The four of you sat down at the table, a comfortable silence washing over the room. You sit next to your brother across from Lando. You noticed him looking at you a few times out of the corner of your eye. The butterflies in your stomach were running wild, but you hoped that it didn’t show. As much as you like the idea of being together with the Brit, you knew that it wouldn’t be a good idea. Not only because of his career but also because of your brother. You and Max were close and you know his overprotective sides when it comes to the topic of boys being around you. He was always a bit worried about them, maybe given the fact that he raced professionally. It didn't help that you know most of the formula one grid. He was scared of someone using you for your connections, he would not mention this fear though.

You aren't sure how Max would react to the news of you crushing on his best friend nor did you want to find out anytime soon. You talked about everything over dinner; racing, the upcoming season, video games and just what everybody did during the break. You remembered about a year ago when you were all sitting at the same table. Oscar was still new to the group and quite shy, but he opened up which was good to see.

“All right, how about we talk about something different than just racing,” you said. “Not everybody’s life depends on it.” You jokingly added, knowing that the boys love nothing more than to talk about it, especially when they were off for a few weeks. At some point the conversation shifts, now the talk was all about. testing and the upcoming season. “I have a question guys,” Lando suddenly said. His cheeks are a bit pink, unusually so. Your eyes looked over to Oscar slightly, he looked just as confused as you felt. It almost seems like Lando was shy about something perhaps not knowing what to do with the situation. “Do you have anything planned during the weekend when the season starts?” He finally blurted out after a longer pause.

“Not that I could think of,” you replied, looking at your brother. He also shook his head no. “Why do you ask?” “How about you come to watch it?” It was actually Oscar who voiced the question, his eyes always flickering up to you. It was almost like he was saving Lando from something, maybe embarrassment. “For sure,” Max answered quickly, not having to really think about it. The three men turn their heads to you waiting for your answer. “I’m not sure if I can get time off,” you said. “And also don’t exactly have the money for this trip.” You said shyly.

“Sweetheart, do you really think you have to pay?” Lando asked. You look at him shocked, did he really just say that? “I got it covered. Don’t worry about that.” He added quickly. Maybe it was your imagination, but he looked a bit embarrassed about saying it. Max looked at his best friend, confusion all over his features, shaking his head as if he was having a silent conversation with himself.

“Please y/n, it would mean the world for both of us,” Lando added, pointing at him and Oscar. He was almost begging at this point. You didn’t know why it was so important for him to have you there. A small part if you wanted to believe that it is because he also had a crush on you. But honestly those were unrealistic expectations. No, Lando could never have a crush on you. That’s for sure.

“Okay okay,” you gave in with a small smile. “I’ll see if I can get a few days off so I can join you in Australia,”you said. You see from the corner of your eyes that your brother has a sour look on his face again. An uneasy feeling settles in your stomach. ”Well, I don’t know about you guys, but I’m done.“ You try to ignore the look on Maxs face by changing the topic.You took both plates and put them into the dishwasher. You miss the way Oscar looks at both Max and Lando. Ever since this conversation started he has had a slightly confused look on his face, not that you noticed.

It was only a few days after that night when your request for the time off was accepted. That night you spend an hour or maybe two on FaceTime with Lando. He was back in Monaco preparing for the testing in Bahrain. It may have been a few days since that call but you can still see the way he smiled when you shared the news. It was one of the best things ever.

You already talked with Max about when you were leaving to Down Under. While you were more than excited to be in the paddock, see the race and talk to some of the drivers that you know, you couldn’t shake off this weird feeling in the pit of your stomach. It felt like this little trip would change everything but you weren’t sure why. Maybe it was because recently you and Lando have talked almost every night, intensifying your crush on the curly haired man. And even though you were nervous you couldn’t wait to see him in person again in Australia.

part 2 (coming soon)

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

I hope you enjoy it! Any feedback is appreciated!

Requests are open! Want to be added to the taglist? Feel free to reach out.

hi!! i love your hybrid aus so muuuch

could you do one with Max who has a high maintenance cat hybrid? she’s a picky eater, likes pretty and expensive clothes, not dirtying her fur, things like that :)

i love this!

cw: HYBRID!reader

"sorry, angel," max mumbled as he placed your plate down in front of you.

a frown crossed your face as you looked down at your dinner. brandishing your knife and fork, you poked at your dinner. "what... is it?" you asked, pulling your cutlery away from the food.

"what is it?" max echoed, staring across the table. "salad and soup. you used to love salmon and soup."

a scoff left your lips, your tail moving from side to side. "yeah, when i first came to live with you." when you pushed your soup away, it splashed onto the table. "where's my salmon?"

you weren't always fussy. when max first took you in off the streets, you scrambled to eat anything he put in front of you. your clothes had been tattered and dirt back then, not pretty like what you wore now.

"i couldn't get your salmon," he mumbled, reaching over the table to take your hand. "sorry, kitten."

you pulled your hand out of his grip and stood up. with a huff, you turned on your heel and marched away from the dining table. "kitten!" max called after you, but he was gone. he was lucky you didn't throw your soup all over the floor.

hiding in his bed, your tail flicked. you weren't happy, not in the slightest. was your salmon too much to ask for? you didn't think so. if he loved you, he'd go out and get your salmon.

no, that wasn't fair. you knew he loved you, you were just being bratty.

your ears twitched as the bedroom door opened. "kitten," he mumbled and sat on the end of the bed. "talk to me."

pulling the blanket from over your head, you pouted at him. "i want my salmon," you mumbled. but your tail, the indicator of how you were feeling, was still.

"you want your salmon?" he asked as opened his arms.

you nodded as you crawled into his lap. your head was tucked against his neck as you pawed at his shirt, at his chest. maybe if you acted cute enough, you would get everything you wanted.

max released a sigh and threw his head back. "okay, fine," he mumbled and kissed the top of your head. "go get your coat on."

your eyes lit up. "are we gonna get salmon?"

"yes, kitten. we're gonna get salmon."

I took a brief break from tumblr to look at instagram, saw a video of sleepy cats, and immediately returned to request Alex, Arthur, Marcus and Seb with a sleepy cat hybrid!reader. Like the reader's favourite place to sleep with/on the driver

i love this idea omd i yawned typing this lmfao

gn!cat hybrid!reader (sleepy headcanons)

alex albon:

absolutely obsessed with how sleepy you are because your ears and tail get all droopy and you blink so slowly and alex just finds it so fucking adorable

loves it when you stretch out on top of him, lying on your side on his chest with your face buried in his jaw/cheek - it's chaotic and catlike and alex has many photos of you asleep like it

always ready to catch you when you fall asleep whilst standing up because he refuses to let you get hurt due to your sleepiness

has carried you out of many places plenty of times because you fell asleep - his garage after a race, williams hospitality after his work is up, restaurants because he ate too slow and you got sleepy, etc.

arthur leclerc:

started tracking how often you yawn in a day because he thinks it's funny but then ended up yawning so much more often himself and he started getting sleepier so he stopped

curl up in a ball of cat on his chest and arthur will be the happiest man ever, especially if you purr in your sleep or, in arthur's best case scenario, you sleepmeow

always down to let you nap on him no matter what he's doing - he'd rather be mildly inconvenienced by you using him as a bed than find out you slept somewhere uncomfortable

loves it when you fall asleep on facetime because arthur gets to watch you doze peacefully and he gets to take screenshots galore

marcus armstrong:

genuinely doesn't understand how you're so sleepy all the time but he thinks you're cute so he won't complain about it

loves spooning you when you're curled up in a ball but if you sprawl out, marcus will cuddle up to you as close as he can, dreading the moment when your arm will inevitably smack him in the face

finds your sleeping positions and noises to be so fucking weird but also so fucking adorable at the same time to the point that he gets major cuteness aggression over you

lightly flicks your ears and tugs your tail when you're sleeping to see if you'll wake up but you never do - he knows not to pull too hard though because he'd hate to hurt you

sebastian vettel:

you're the cutest cat and literally everyone knows that because sebastian doesn't shut up about you and your cuteness ever

loves when you fall asleep on his chest whilst straddling his lap because you look so adorable and your soft little purrs fill his ears to the point that he finds it so cozy and comforting

has taken plenty of pictures & videos of you meowing in your sleep and tossing and turning about that sebastian is honestly starting to run out of storage space

loves to carry you in his arms whilst you sleep and will often just find somewhere to sit down, you still in his arms, so he can stroke your ears & tail and keep you safe and warm

© all rights to babybearnation 2025.

COME WHAT MAY | Sebastian Vettel ✩₊˚.⋆ ACT I: LOSS OF MY LIFE [PREVIOUS PART] [NEXT PART]

come what may masterlist | formula 1 masterlist

Red Bull Sebastian Vettel x Red Bull intern & Webber girlfriend!Reader

SUMMARY: During 2010 RB6 presentation and preseason testing, Mark starts acting quite weird with you. To your surprise, Webber gives some opinions on your work that start making you overthink, even when Seb tries his best to calm you down. You know 2010 season is going to be a hell when Webber asks to have a private conversation with Christian Horner and Helmut Marko.

WORD COUNT: 3695

WARNINGS: Angst, curse words and bad language, toxic relationships involving mental abuse and manipulation, such a toxic Mark Webber, mentions of death and suicide

TAGLIST: @hc-dutch @raavadakedavra @coffeedestroyingperson @evey-kuznetskova @bowielovesyou @chaoswithus @isotopemylove @iceman-kazansky @residentdemonhunter @astronomyandfrogs @herdetectivetheorist @prttylight @i-love-sirius-black7 @dreamauri @03071987 [feel free to join the taglist!]

VEE'S NOTES: I didn't post this earlier because I wasn't in a good mood after the prologue wasn't pretty liked to be honest, but here I am! Sorry for the delay, and if you read this hope you like it <3 ↳ TALK TO ME / REQUESTS! | FORMULA 1 MASTERLIST

© VETTELSVEE (2025). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

Jerez, Spain 10th February, 2010

You hadn’t received a single call from Mark since the day you last spoke to him. In fact, you hadn’t expected him to call, but that didn’t stop you from feeling disappointed.

The only thing you got from your boyfriend was an endless string of missed calls, followed by the sound of his voicemail, his pre-recorded voice telling you to leave a message and that he would call you back later. And you did leave messages, knowing full well you wouldn’t get a response.

Instead, it was Seb who spoke to you every day.

The German hadn’t said anything else during that fateful dinner that should have been a refuge for both of you; nor did he bring it up for the rest of his stay in Linz or even when he was back in Heppenheim. Even though you had agreed not to see each other again until it was time to fly to Spain for the presentation of Red Bull’s new car, the RB6, Sebastian never stopped worrying about you. He called you daily; he was the first to hear about your grades from the penultimate semester of university, and sometimes, you even fell asleep while still on the phone with him. You both stayed up late talking, no matter how many times you promised to sleep early, only to curse yourselves the next morning for breaking that promise, despite knowing you would do it again.

You tried, with difficulty, to get some sort of call, message, or even a breakup and an explanation from Mark about why he no longer wanted to continue your strange relationship. You did everything you could to let him know that the team had contacted you, requiring you to be in southern Europe in February, but it was impossible.

The blue-eyed man who made your days easier, especially as your father’s health worsened and you were already grieving before the inevitable, not only showed interest and happiness that Red Bull Racing’s intern would be at the event, but he also offered to travel to Austria and stay with you for two or three days before the flight. He knew how terrified you were of flying and didn’t want you to go through it alone.

You didn’t see Mark or anyone from the team, except for the obvious Sebastian and his PR manager, Britta Roeske, during the two days leading up to the big event. That Wednesday, however, anxiety took over as you got ready in your hotel room. The feeling only intensified as you headed to the circuit with your best friend, realizing that you would have to face Mark.

It was barely ten in the morning, and the air was already thick with the persistent scent of burnt rubber, oil, and fuel, not to mention the noise caused by photographers, journalists, team members, and the occasional fan roaming around.

The RB6 had just been unveiled, and now, everyone was behind the cameras, hidden in the garages after dealing with the press. All that was left was to wait for the mechanics to finish the final adjustments before the first day of pre-season testing began, with both Webber and Vettel taking part.

Sebastian stood beside you, tucked away in a corner of the garage. His arms were crossed, and his eyes constantly moved, not out of nervousness, but out of an effort to stay in control of everything. He knew you would run into your teammate at any moment, and more than wanting to prevent an altercation, he didn’t want the Australian to create a scene big enough for others to notice.

More than anything, he didn’t want all of that to be another burden for you.

You, on the other hand, were nervous. Your hands fidgeted, grasping each other, playing with your hair, or clutching your jacket. Your eyes darted around, and each time a door opened or someone entered, your body tensed, only to relax upon realizing it wasn’t the person you dreaded seeing most.

It hadn’t even been a month since your last conversation with Mark, but enough time had passed for you to try to push it from your mind, or at least, to not give it so much importance. But you couldn’t. It still hurt to comprehend that he only called to demand explanations about your life and judge you, fully aware of how important Seb was to you, rather than to apologize for forgetting about you for weeks despite your insistence on staying in touch.

You gave up, but that didn’t make you feel any better. The only thing that comforted you was knowing that you had been there for Sebastian when he needed a friend the most. But what made you question whether it was all worth it was the fact that Mark had already made up his mind, and nothing you could say would convince him otherwise.

When you turned to look at the man beside you, and he gazed at you with a light in his eyes that you had never seen in your boyfriend’s, you knew you would endure a thousand more fights with Mark just to see Sebastian happy.

Finally, Mark appeared, his race suit half-unzipped. He started chatting with some team members, who seemed more than happy to see him after so many months.

As he cheerfully greeted each one of them, playing the part of the charming prince, Sebastian rolled his eyes. He couldn’t see his teammate the same way anymore—not after hearing him yell at you over the phone and, worse, manipulate you in ways you didn’t seem to notice.

“Y/N, you don’t have to talk to him right now,” Sebastian murmured, stepping closer to you.

You felt a shiver run through you but tried to stay in control. You saw Webber approaching, and by instinct, you moved closer to Seb, almost knocking him over. He wrapped his arms around you to keep you from falling.

“Sorry…” was all you managed to say, unaware of what he had just told you.

“Talk to him when you feel strong enough,” Vettel continued, his voice just as calm. “Take a deep breath, and think carefully about what you want to say.”

“No, Seb, I need to talk to Mark as soon as possible…”

“Y/N—”

“If he’s going to act the way he did on the phone or make passive-aggressive comments through veiled insults, I’d rather he say it to my face,” you declared. Then, sighing, you forced yourself to relax before walking toward your boyfriend. “I’m sorry…”

Sebastian sighed this time, and despite knowing Webber was watching, he hugged you. Then, glaring at the Australian, he gently cupped your face in his hands.

And oh, how he wished he could not only kiss you but also make you see that you deserved far more than the love Webber had made you believe you were worth.

“Be careful, okay? Mark… He knows how to hurt you.”

You nodded timidly before kissing his cheek, promising him that everything would be fine, even though you had no idea what would happen or how things between you and Mark would end.

Without saying much more, you started crossing the garage, trying to follow Mark’s steps. After seeing how you and Sebastian had been acting, the two of you, who claimed to be nothing more than best friends, Mark had decided to leave, holding back the urge to cause a scene that would land both you and him on the front pages of every Formula 1 gossip magazine… if that was even what he wanted, of course.

"Can we talk?"

You quickened your pace slightly and carefully grabbed Mark’s fireproof suit. He turned around, coming face to face with you, frustrated, maybe even disappointed. You knew he was angry, even though your voice sounded firm. At least, that’s what your body language was screaming.

"Oh, now you want to talk?" Webber laughed bitterly.

"Don’t start," you warned, raising your voice a little more than you should have. "I just want to clear things up because, since you didn’t give me the chance to do it on the phone, maybe now that I have you in front of me, you will."

"Let me remind you that you were the one who hung up the call after I… I don’t know… maybe started pissing you off by calling you out for hiding things from me?"

You tried to argue back, but you knew it wasn’t worth it. Instead, you stayed quiet, though you rolled your eyes just enough to let Mark know how impossible he was—and to irritate him in the process.

He wanted you to torment yourself, to let the guilt eat you alive until you admitted the truth—the way he saw it. And deep down, that was exactly what he wanted.

"Fine. Go ahead," the Australian finally conceded.

You took a deep breath, trying to stay calm before speaking.

"You accused me of things that aren’t true, Mark, and you know it. Seb was in Linz because he needed a break, okay? He needed to clear his head, disconnect from everything… He and Hanna had just broken up, and I offered to let him stay at my place for him, not for me. He needed support, and that’s what friends do."

"And out of all the people who could have been there for him, he had to choose you?" Mark scoffed, tilting his head slightly at your explanation. "That’s a bit strange, don’t you think?"

"It’s not what you’re thinking, Mark."

"Yeah, I know. But let me tell you, it’s pretty damn strange. And forgive me for doubting you, but isn’t it interesting how you’re always there when Seb needs someone? It’s almost like… like you want him to need you."

Your hands clenched into fists on instinct. You were quickly reaching your breaking point.

"I was just being a friend, you know? Not like you, who couldn’t even bother to pick up the damn phone once or even send me a single message since the season ended."

"Oh, so now this is my fault?" Mark pointed to himself, a smirk creeping onto his face.

"I just want you to know that I didn’t do anything wrong."

"Yeah, sure. Whatever you say. Do you know what your problem is, Y/N?" He stepped closer, forcing you to take a few steps back, not that it mattered, because he grabbed your wrists before you could escape. His grip was tighter than you would have liked. Even when you tried to pull away, he didn’t let go. "You always think you can fix everything. You think you can save everyone from whatever pain they’re going through. But I don’t blame you. Maybe it’s just your way of coping… making yourself feel better after your mother killed herself."

His words hit you like a punch to the gut.

You were speechless. Breathing became harder, and seeing became nearly impossible with the tears welling up in your eyes. Everything around you seemed to disappear, leaving only the man in front of you and the words he had just spoken.

Maybe it’s just your way of coping… making yourself feel better after your mother killed herself.

For years, you had convinced yourself that your mother had been sick, that you weren’t at fault for not being able to save her. That you weren’t to blame for not getting home earlier that day, only to find her lifeless on the bed. You had told yourself, over and over, that you were just another victim of that suicide.

"Mark, I… I didn’t…" The lump in your throat made it impossible to speak, and neither did the tears that spilled from your eyes. "I’m not seeing Sebastian… I only love you…"

The words slipped from your lips automatically, but you weren’t sure if you were trying to convince Mark… or yourself.

He only shook his head, trying not to laugh at how pathetic and ridiculous you must have looked to him.

"If that’s what helps you sleep at night, keep lying to me. But if you really aren’t cheating on me with Vettel, I suppose I’ll have to see it for myself."

"Hey, Webber! Quit messing around with your girl and get over here! Didn’t you say you had something really important to discuss with us?"

Both of you turned toward Christian Horner, who was standing at the door of one of the makeshift offices. Through the window, you could see Helmut Marko buried in paperwork while marking something on his phone.

"Yeah, of course! I’m coming!"

You felt a wave of relief as Mark turned his back to you and walked away, without another word, without even saying goodbye, heading toward that room. You wanted to argue, to keep insisting that you had nothing going on with Seb, but you knew it was useless. Nothing you said would change Mark’s mind.

All you could do was stand there, staring at the door he had just walked through. You tried to peek through the window to see what that sudden meeting was about, one you had heard nothing about, but you gave up when your boyfriend suddenly glanced in your direction. He shot you a knowing smile before pulling the blinds closed.

"Shit…"

Your stomach twisted into knots as you turned around, aimlessly walking through the garage.

"You’re scrunching your nose. A lot, I’d say," a voice, too familiar, spoke in front of you.

If it hadn’t been for the German standing in your way, you would have walked right into him.

Why did Seb always show up when you needed him most?

Maybe because he knows how much you’re being hurt… and he was listening to the conversation as well.

No, that was impossible. He had probably just been waiting around in the garage until they told him he could do another test lap.

"You know I always scrunch my nose when I’m mad." Seb raised an eyebrow, and you rolled your eyes. "He was talking shit about you, Seb."

"Talking shit about me? Or talking shit about you and blaming you for doing things with me that, by the way, we haven’t done?"

You hesitated. You didn’t know how to answer because, once again, he was right.

Mark knew exactly how to get into your head, how to manipulate you until you started doubting yourself. Meanwhile, Sebastian had somehow become your voice of reason when you felt like you were losing your mind.

"I feel like he thinks I feel too much, you know?" you admitted, dodging his question, dodging the conversation entirely. You didn’t want to talk about Mark. You just needed to get this off your chest. "Like I have some kind of savior complex…"

"Because you couldn’t save your mother," Vettel finished for you. You cursed yourself for letting him hear that part. "Jesus, Y/N, that’s complete bullshit. Not about your mom," he quickly corrected himself, stumbling over his words, "but him saying that. You just want to help people… maybe the way you wish someone had helped you."

"But you help me… My dad, my aunt, my uncle and, well, my sisters," you muttered. "But whatever. The point is, you try explaining to him that everything he says is complete bullshit."

"Honestly? I would if I thought it would do any good," he said. "But since I know he won’t change his mind, I’d rather not waste my time. I’d rather spend it with you."

You gave him a tired smile. Seb could tell you were trying to put on a brave face, just like you always did when things weren’t going well. At that moment, something deep inside him burned with the need to protect you from everything that hurt you.

That was how he had felt for the past few months, but he did his best not to show it, to try to ignore it… yet all he managed to do was make it grow larger and larger.

And that was exactly what scared him the most about yourself in that moment.

"Come on, let's go," was all he could say as, unlike Mark, Seb took your hand as if it were a delicate, breakable piece of porcelain.

"Where? The pretesting session is about to—"

"Fuck the pretesting session," he cut you off, not giving you a chance to say anything else.

Seb’s fingers intertwined with yours, and even though he wasn't entirely sure where to go or what to do, one thing was clear, he just wanted to get them out of there, far away from where Mark had once again treated you so badly.

As you crossed the paddock under the watchful eyes of some journalists, you ran into Britta Roeske, Seb’s PR manager and, in many ways, his savior… or even a second mother, depending on how someone looked at it.

The woman, perfectly dressed in her Red Bull uniform, wasn’t surprised to see you together, but she was surprised to see you that together. She couldn’t help but glance down at your still-intertwined hands and then back up at both of you, incredulous.

"Don’t you dare be late. Thirty minutes, Sebastian," was all she said.

"Seems like you don’t trust me," he answered with an innocent smile that, rather than a trick, seemed completely sincere.

"With her?" Roeske pointed at you, who merely shrugged and curled your lips into a small smile. "Not really, to be honest. Be careful and don’t do anything you’ll regret later."

Neither of you answered that, but you both knew exactly what she meant.

You continued walking in a comfortable silence around the circuit, getting further away from the paddock. Seb went along with what you jokingly called a "track walk rehearsal" until you reached a grandstand area. Once seated, you had a perfect view of the entire track.

"Thanks for everything," you murmured, pulling your knees to your chest and wrapping your arms around them. Seb, on the other hand, draped an arm around your shoulders and, noticing how cold you were, took off his jacket and placed it over you.

"You don’t have to thank me. I hate seeing you like this. Out of all the people in the world who don’t deserve to feel this way, you’re at the top of the list."

Neither of you said anything else. You simply smiled and, for the first time all day, without fear, leaned against Seb’s chest. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around you, pressed a kiss to your forehead and started playing with your hair as he always did.

"I don’t understand why he’s talking to Helmut and Horner," you broke the silence, sitting up slightly to look at Seb. "What could possibly be so important that they had to have a meeting today?"

"Yeah, I was wondering the same thing," he frowned. "To be honest, I don’t like it…"

"Do you think it’s about me?"

Vettel bit his lip at your question. He wanted to be honest with you, but at the same time, he didn’t want to make you worry more or overthink something that might end up being trivial.

"I don’t want to assume, but… Webber is the kind of guy who likes to control everything and, with that, do whatever it takes to stay in the spotlight," he commented, carefully choosing his words. "If he feels like he’s going to be the second driver again, like last season…" Seb hesitated before continuing, trying to find the right way to say it. "I don’t know, Y/N, maybe he just wants to twist the narrative to fit his paranoia."

He couldn’t lie to you. You didn’t deserve that.

You swallowed hard.

"Do you think he’s going to turn them against me?"

"I don’t know, but what I do know is that whatever he’s saying won’t change the fact that you belong to this team, that you belong to…"

My life, he thought without a shred of regret, but with too much fear to say it out loud.

"You’re smart, Y/N," he continued. "This is your second year with the team; your third with me. You know everyone here, and most of all, you know me perfectly. And if that wasn’t enough, you work harder than anyone, Rocky’s words, not mine, while also juggling university and taking care of your father and sisters."

"It’s just what I have to do…"

"If they don’t realize what an incredible person they have right in front of them, that’s their problem, not mine."

You lowered your gaze, unable to stop yourself from blushing.

"Why do you always know exactly what to say to make someone’s day better?"

"It’s not about making someone’s day better, Y/N. It’s just telling the truth about what an incredible person you are."

For the first time, you found the strength to look at Seb without feeling embarrassed. It felt… strange. You didn’t know what exactly, but you were sure that the way he spoke to you, the things he said, the way he looked at you…

It was as if Sebastian truly saw you as more than just a friend.

Once again, neither of you dared to speak.

Seb wanted to say a thousand things, but he knew it wasn’t the right moment. And when it came to you, you wanted to take things slowly, savoring every moment, and, most importantly, putting your well-being first.

You, on the other hand, had always seen him as your safe haven since you arrived at Toro Rosso in 2008. But now… it felt different. Maybe it was what you had been denying to yourself finally coming to the surface, the thing that had been there for about two years, back when Seb were still dating Hanna.

Maybe, the silence you were now sharing would, one day, turn into the confession neither of you had been brave enough to admit, to yourselves or to each other.

"Seb…"

"Come what may, okay?" Seb interrupted you gently, taking your hand and tracing small hearts on your skin. "Never forget it: I’ll be there, here, wherever… but with you. Come what may."

Sebastian Vettel with Schumacher daughter? Age Gap/Forbidden love affair?

SV5 ★ secrets and kisses

★ Summary: Sebastian adored being your boyfriend, even if that meant lying to his idol. In where Sebastian and you, the daughter of Michael Schumacher, are in a secret relationship.

★ Sebastian Vettel x Schumacher Daughter. ★ Forbidden Love. Fluff. Kisses. ★ im thinking in a second part

You barely remember Seb as a child, not that you should feel guilty about that, life was busy then and there were so many people in your life that it was hard to keep him so present years later. But for Seb, your existence was still in the back of his mind, even after all this time; when you met again in the paddock, it was instantaneous, the feeling, the looks and the speed of your heartbeats were synchronized. Every night before you went to sleep you thought about all the things Seb had said during the day, their fleeting encounters and the interviews he gave after the races. Even though the feelings were there at first sight, the road to stability was a little slower. 

Every time they saw each other, they were surrounded by other pilots, which kept them together, since despite their age difference, they were still among the youngest. This gave them an excuse to spend more time together, but it should be made clear that even if the conversations were fluid and they always had a great time together, both kept their desires buried deep in their hearts and only let themselves be seen under the fascination of their eyes whenever they met. You could say that the mask of a mere friendly relationship was broken when Seb gave you a kiss on the cheek at one of the many parties, as innocent as it was, it changed everything for you. 

His rosy cheeks and the disappearance of Seb's self—confident attitude made you rest your lips on his. Fleeting, sweet and full of experiences to be discovered. That same night, on the balcony covered with plants, the German asked you to go out with him and you accepted. 

Almost half a year had passed since that first date when you and Seb became engaged and you couldn't be happier. Of course, it had its complications, the schedules of a Formula 1 driver and a college student with panic attacks about failing were not easy to manage, and there was another little problem. Hiding it from your father, Michael Schumacher. You weren't sure how your father, who had previously warned you that F1 drivers were a no—go area (and to be honest, you hadn't been that interested until Seb's arrival), would react, and on top of that, your father was your boyfriend's biggest idol and absolutely refused to let him down. For these reasons, your dates consisted of meetings in your car with fast food or simple walks listening to music during the weekends that you had a career (although it was not always possible because many times you did not accompany your father), while during the week they usually met in your apartment. It was no big deal, a small apartment that you had asked your parents for, with the excuse that you wanted to be closer to the university and that it was hard for you to concentrate at home with your siblings, they accepted on the condition that you could provide your own food. So, in addition to all the obstacles that were placed in front of your relationship, there were the hours of tutoring that you offered to the children in order to feed yourself. But it was all worth it. You were privileged, and having an apartment to meet Seb was an incredible advantage in your secret relationship. 

—You're coming to Monaco,” Seb asked, sitting on the floor as they ate at your coffee table in front of the TV. 

—Should I? I have a couple of essays due—Seb looked at you as you pursed your lips, you seemed to be thinking about it—But if I bring my computer I should come.

Your boyfriend smiled and unconsciously his shoulders shrugged in happiness. 

—That's good, we'll be able to sneak out in the evening—and slightly tilting towards your body with a mischievous smile he added—and I can help you with your homework. 

—Yes, sure. Homework—you rolled your eyes and Seb laughed quietly as he ate. He was so happy that his cheeks were red and sore. 

                                                     ──────────────────

The weather in Monaco was nice, you were wearing a tank top and an ankle—length blue skirt, a cool wind was blowing in from the balcony of your room and you decided to add a black jacket just in case the weather got even colder. Your younger brother looked at you with an arched eyebrow when you added pearl earrings to your outfit.

—Are you going out?" your brother questioned, not taking his eyes off his mobile phone.

—Yep — you didn't lie. You checked that everything was in your bag, and before you left you glanced briefly at your brother, "Don't stay playing and go out to dinner, at least with dad.

He nodded and you left the room walking down the corridors of the hotel with a smile on your face. As soon as you reached the lobby you spotted your dad talking to his friends and among them, Seb. Everyone seemed to be in a good mood and was joking loudly, you approached slowly and your boyfriend was the first one to see you with a little wave of his hand, which your father turned away from. Just as everyone was joking, they also greeted you. You approached your father just to say hello and let him know that you were going out with friends, you lied. He nodded, whispering to take care of yourself and not to come back late, you shook your head in agreement and before you left, you glanced briefly at Seb, whose eyes were, as usual in your presence, sparkling.

The plan was the same every race weekend, you would leave a few minutes early with the excuse that you would spend the night with your friends or colleagues, you would wait a few minutes a block away from the hotel they were staying at and Seb would come by with his car to pick you up and spend the evening together. It was one of their favourite activities to eat snacks in the car while they were driving and then they would buy food to take away and enjoy the evening in a prominent place in the city where the race was taking place.

You waited a few minutes on a well—lit corner and before you could even get bored of looking at the beautiful golden poles, Seb appeared in front of you with his rented car. You quickly hopped off the curb and opened the car door, Seb grabbed your bag as you settled into the seat and left a kiss on your cheek. You buckled in and he rested your bag on your lap.

—Ready?" Seb raised his eyebrows as if they were about to run a race.

—You grabbed the handle of your bag and Seb pulled away, smiling.

—You don't know," he asked as if it were obvious as he averted his eyes from the road for half a second to give you one of his cocky smiles, "We're going to spend our dinner at the best place in Monaco.

You pursed your lips into a smile; he was always so self—confident, so confident of making you nervous with the simplest acts that he managed to leave you speechless. You swallowed as you watched him turn down the streets of Monaco, he always drove with one hand and it would hurt your pride to accept how handsome he looked when he did.

—By the way, congratulations on passing the General Psychology exam — Seb congratulated you and that made your heart pound, but without thinking too much you shouted.

—How do you know that? I wanted to tell you at dinner," you stammered awkwardly, slapping his thigh; at your reaction Seb laughed hysterically, realising that it wasn't you who had told him, "You were guessing?

—No, no, honey," your heart trembled slightly at the nickname, before Seb continued laughing and tapped the steering wheel gently as he parked in front of a beautiful restaurant. He entangled his hands and with a kiss he placed on your forehead, he added, "Michael's been bragging about it all afternoon.

You gasped at the thought of your father bragging to his friends about something as mundane as passing an exam, especially in front of Seb. You covered your face with the palm of your hands and when you opened your mouth to moan, Seb spoke again.

—And I think you should too.

You frowned uncomprehendingly as you pulled your hands away from his face.

—What?

—You know, bragging, being proud of what you accomplish—Seb shrugged but his gaze was steady—You should be more proud of your accomplishments, I am. Every time we meet and you tell me how you've been studying so hard and how well you've done, it just makes me so happy.

You fluttered your eyelashes not believing what you were hearing, your hand trembled and being held still by Seb noticed the slight movement and tilted his head leaving another kiss on your cheek.

—I'm going to get our food." Seb got out of the car, the heat that had formed between his hands slowly subsided but the tingling did not. You felt yourself swallow hard before you threw yourself down on the seat laughing and wiggling your feet, Seb liked it so much that the only thing you wanted at that moment was for him to feel that way too.

                                          ──────────────────

The night in Monaco was quieter than you would think. They had settled near a park, which due to the timetable was closed and they couldn't walk around. Having finished all your food we took the opportunity to rest your legs on Seb's lap with your back against the door. You were telling him about one of the many dramas of your university. Even if he pretended not to, Seb loved drama and even more so if it didn't involve him.

—I swear she rejected him, and he was really angry — you waved your hands dramatising the whole situation.

—That's not very nice," Seb commented. "Obviously being rejected isn't the best experience, but getting angry at the person I doubt it makes it any better.

—Exactly! And then he accused her of taking advantage of him and threw the ice cream on her dress—you paused and slapped your thigh hard—God, an ice cream Seb! If someone really did that to me they wouldn't have any hairs left to pluck.

—That's really awful, but now that you mention it," Seb began, registering your curious stare, "It's time for us to go get some ice cream.

Lowering your legs off his body you both celebrated your successful night with loud music and silly singing, at a traffic light you came to ask him.

—How are you feeling about the weekend," Seb hadn't mentioned the subject all night which surprised you, it's not like he could tell you the team's strategies but he kept a pretty wide berth for the expression of his feelings about racing. Seb scratched the back of his neck and, with his eyes on the road, replied.

—I'm not sure... For some reason everyone seems so interested in winning in Monaco that the fact that it's not so special to me keeps me... Confused.

—Seb... I can assure you that Monaco is not that important, I mean no more than other races," you assured with a confidence that made your boyfriend grimace, "Really, you'll do fine.

—Well, if a Schumacher says so, I guess I'll just have to listen to him," Seb's car got closer and closer to the busy streets of Monaco and as soon as they found a place to park for ice cream they pulled over with smiles already formed from anticipation. Opening the car door, you didn't hold back your comment.

—Of course, the winning instinct is in my blood," you exclaimed, putting your foot on the floor and looking up, and before you could warn him, you grabbed Seb's elbow to pull him into the car and slammed the door abruptly shut, stowing yourself in the safety of the car. Seb, who still didn't understand, screamed.

 You covered his mouth with your palm only to direct your eyes a few metres away from you, where Michael Schumacher was leaving a restaurant with his friends and your brother. You both held your breath.

it's my birthday!! today I post Seb OS

I'M SORRY I'VE DISAPPEARED I was so happy reading books after so much time 😭😭 I have a Seb OS to post so I promise one of these days I'm going to publish it

I love reading so much 😭😭 uni made me forget how much I love stories

COME WHAT MAY | Sebastian Vettel ✩₊˚.⋆ PROLOGUE: A PHONE CALL AND A NEW BEGINNING [PREVIOUS PART] [NEXT PART]

come what may masterlist | formula 1 masterlist

Red Bull Sebastian Vettel x Red Bull intern & Webber girlfriend!Reader

SUMMARY: Sebastian breaks up with Hanna and Y/N, his best friend, offers him to go to her hometown to try disconnect from everything. However, things take a turn for the worst when Mark Webber, Seb's teammate and Y/N's boyfriend, calls her and starts thinking she's cheating on him with Vettel.

WORD COUNT: 7337

WARNINGS: Angst, curse words and bad language, such a toxic Mark Webber, mentions of death, cancer and suicide

TAGLIST: @hc-dutch @raavadakedavra @coffeedestroyingperson @evey-kuznetskova @bowielovesyou @chaoswithus @isotopemylove @iceman-kazansky @residentdemonhunter @astronomyandfrogs @herdetectivetheorist @prttylight @i-love-sirius-black7 @dreamauri @03071987 [feel free to join the taglist!]

VEE'S NOTES: I absolutely adored writing this, so I hope you like it reading too! If so, feel free to comment me your thoughts, as well as rebloging it since I'd appreciate that a lot! Thank you so much for reading in advance <3 ↳ MAKE YOUR REQUESTS | TALK TO ME! | FORMULA 1 MASTERLIST

© VETTELSVEE (2025). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

Linz, Austria January 15th, 2010

"Sometimes I wonder if, besides whether I deserve everything I've achieved, I'm actually doing good enough to keep it. I mean... do I deserve my position at Red Bull, or are they just keeping me because Seb was the one who got me in, and now I'm also Mark's girlfriend? And about that last part... am I really what my boyfriend deserves, or, like dad says, is it just a passing fling of a few months where I only want to sleep with him as some sort of stress relief? Seb says that, as long as Mark makes me happy, that's what matters, but... does Mark really make me happy? Or is it..."

"I'll open the door, Dad!"

Louisa's voice snapped you back to reality.

Carefully, you put away the journal he had given you for your twenty-first birthday, which had served as your therapy ever since, in the nightstand drawer. Then, you jumped out of bed with an energy you hadn’t felt in a long time and cheerfully walked over to your desk. You carefully moved aside the scattered notes you still hadn’t put away despite the semester ending two weeks ago and made sure everything looked as presentable as possible. Your straightened hair fell over your shoulders, though your bangs needed a little fixing, nothing you couldn’t adjust with your fingers. You also applied some lip balm, more to add a bit of shine than to keep your lips hydrated. Lastly, you adjusted your clothes as best as you could, trying to relax as much as possible and, most importantly, remind yourself that he would be more than happy to see you, no matter how you looked.  

You knew that Sebastian Vettel was just your best friend, but in some way, you always tried to appear as perfect as possible before him to show you were worthy of his friendship.  

You knew that, no matter how much Sebastian had cherished you since you both met in 2008, when you joined Toro Rosso as an intern while he was already a driver, he was better than you in every way.  

The door suddenly opened, pulling you out of your thoughts and revealing your two younger sisters peeking through the gap.  

“Why are you taking so long?” Amelie, 15, inquired. “It’s not like your boyfriend just arrived…”

“Yeah, yeah! Why are you getting all pretty?” The youngest, Louisa, 8, chimed in. “Seb is already downstairs waiting for you. He’s talking to dad and uncle Hans about football, and I’m so bored…”

“Shut up you idiot,” Amelie responded, giving her a light shoulder tap. “Don’t listen to her,” she turned to you. “What they’re actually doing is grilling Sebastian about why he’s here today and, more importantly, why he’s staying with us for a few days.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. As far as you could remember, Seb hadn’t mentioned anything about staying over.  

“What do you mean, staying with us? Seb said that?”

“Uncle Hans thinks he’s just a friend, but dad believes you’re sleeping with him while also sleeping with Mark,” Amelie retorted.  

“How the hell would I be sleeping with Seb?!” you shouted, making your sisters step inside the room and slamming the door shut. “That’s… ridiculous, that’s what it is,” you added, trying your best not to curse.  

“But if dad says it, it must be true, Didi,” Louisa replied, a bit annoyed. “You know dad never lies to us.”

“Listen to me, both of you,” you cut them off. “I need you to behave and promise me something.”

Amelie and Louisa exchanged curious glances before looking back at you.  

“I don’t want you to mention Mark in front of Seb. No jokes, no side comments about how much you dislike him… nothing. Got it?”  

“Why can’t I tell Seb I don’t like Mark if it’s the truth? Do I have to lie to him?” Louisa asked with her characteristic innocence. “I like Seb a lot, and I don’t want to lie to him…”

“Because…”

“If you’re hesitating that much it must be because you really are sleeping with Seb.”

“Amelie, shut it! Lou’s here!” you scolded, glancing at Louisa.  

“What does sleeping with mean? Does it mean you’re dating?” Louisa asked, looking at you one again with a mix of curiosity and doubt.

“Seb doesn’t have a girlfriend anymore, okay?”

Your statement left your younger sisters stunned. Louisa had liked Hanna quite a bit, and she had always been nice to her whenever they met. Amelie, on the other hand, even though she had liked the German woman, started wondering why that same German, who had seemed so in love with his girlfriend, had suddenly broken up with her.  

“Seb isn’t with Hanna anymore?”

You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself and give them a convincing answer, even though you didn’t have one herself.  

“Yeah, Seb isn’t with Hanna anymore,” you replied as calmly as possible. “Don’t ask why because he didn’t give me many details other than, well… that he needed a break.”

“Does Mark know about this not-so-surprise visit?” Amelie asked, crossing her arms.  

Your heart skipped a beat. If there was one thing you hated about your middle sister, it was how nosy she was for a 15-year-old. If she was like this now, you didn’t even want to imagine what she’d be like in a few years.  

“Not everything revolves around Mark, Ame,” you brushed off the question because you didn’t know how to answer that no, your boyfriend had no idea about this visit, which you were more than thrilled about. “Seb is my best friend, and he’s going through a lot. And do you know what good friends do in bad times? They’re there for each other.” 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say…” Amelie replied, unconvinced.  

Louisa, who was about to say how happy she was that Vettel was there with them and how much she preferred him over Webber as your boyfriend, was interrupted by their father’s deep voice calling from downstairs:  

“Y/N Y/L/N, get down here! Your guest is tired of waiting!”

You quickly checked your reflection one last time, grabbed your phone, and, before opening the door, turned to your sisters with a stern look:  

“You two,” you pointed at them, “no jokes today. Not a word about Mark or anything related to him.”

The youngest nodded enthusiastically, bouncing slightly as she headed for the stairs. Amelie, however, simply shrugged and smirked mischievously.  

“I’ll think about it,” she said before following Lou down the stairs.  

“Amelie!” you hissed under your breath.  

“Fine, fine. I promise…”

Rolling your eyes, you made one final check to ensure you looked perfect before stepping out. Your heart pounded uncontrollably as you descended the stairs. You tried to push aside any thoughts that could make your reunion with Sebastian awkward, or let your nerves get the best of you.

However, everything seemed to go to hell the moment your eyes landed on the German.  

Sebastian was there, chatting animatedly with your aunt, Johanna, who was chopping vegetables. You were taken aback to see him with his sweater sleeves rolled up, still wearing his Red Bull beanie, as he carefully cut something.  

Afraid your friend might catch your staring, you quickly glanced at the dining table, where your father and uncle were still engrossed in the football discussion Lou had mentioned. Your sisters were at the other end of the living room, turning on the Wii console, likely to start a game of Mario Kart and try to get Seb to join them.  

You looked back at the driver the moment you heard him laugh, probably at something your aunt had said. He looked so natural, so comfortable, as if he truly belonged in your family. He hadn’t changed much since the last time you saw him, nearly three months ago, but you suddenly felt a strange sensation in your stomach, similar to the anxiety you got during exams, but for an entirely different reason.  

The more you observed him, the more you noticed how tired he looked. How… sad he seemed. And somehow, in a way you couldn’t quite explain, that made you feel absolutely awful.

Or perhaps you were beginning to admit what you had never acknowledged to yourself in order not to ruin the friendship you had always needed but never truly had.

“Ah, Y/N! Look who I put to work. He’s better than me at cutting onions. You should tell Seb to come visit us more often, so he can help me when your sisters don’t want to.”

Seb turned at the mention of his name. The smile he had missed so much appeared on his face the moment he saw you. Before you could say anything, he closed the small distance between you at an incredible speed and, without a word, embraced you.  

You remained still for a few seconds, surprised and unsure of what to do. The contact completely unsettled you, but as soon as he started stroking your hair, you relaxed and returned the hug, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist and pulling him closer.  

“You don’t even have an idea of how much I’ve missed you, Y/N,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your head.  

“I missed you too.” 

And you have no idea how much, you thought, trying to swallow the lump in your throat.  

Why did your entire being seem to change, becoming something so complicated and inexplicable, whenever he was near?  

If only he knew what that farewell at the last Grand Prix of the season had meant to you…  

When you pulled apart, the driver studied your face carefully. There was something about you that felt a bit unfamiliar… different. He couldn’t tell if it was your hair, a little shorter since the last time he saw you; the dark circles under your eyes, more pronounced than they should have been after three weeks of vacation before starting your final university semester; or the evident weight loss.  

“I really wanted to see you again,” he forced himself to say instead of asking what had happened to you to make you look so… different.  

You forced a small smile and lowered your gaze, embarrassed by not knowing what else to say. You had thought of telling him that he looked great, because, in your eyes, he always did, but decided against it, considering the reason he had come to visit.  

“So they put you to work, huh?” you finally said, gesturing toward your aunt, who was watching them while continuing to prepare dinner.  

“Not really. I volunteered,” Seb replied with a smile. Johanna was about to say something, but the young man interrupted her. “It’s the least I could do after you let me stay here for a few days.” 

You swallowed hard. You were more than happy to have your friend stay with your family for a few days, but… why couldn’t you remember anything about that conversation?  

“And let me tell you, he’s an excellent volunteer. If only Mark were more like…” 

“You don’t have to treat him like royalty, Johanna,” you cut off your aunt before she could say more. Seb blushed and started nervously playing with his hands. “He’s just…”

“Yes, I know, your friend,” the woman replied, apologizing to you with a glance. “But, as your friend, he is also our guest, and he deserves the best. Besides, he doesn’t complain about my excellent taste in music, unlike someone I know…” She added, glancing sideways at her husband.  

Seb chuckled, leaning against the kitchen counter without breaking eye contact with you.  

“At least it’s better than those weird songs Ricciardo used to play when we were at Toro Rosso. Do you remember when he got obsessed with playing Nessun Dorma before every race?”  

“Oh God, don’t remind me. I love classical music, but I still have nightmares about that.”

You both laughed at the memory of the year you met, when you had become each other’s biggest support. Everything had changed, perhaps too much, in those short two years, but what mattered most was that you still had each other, no matter what.  

At least, for now.

You tried to step a little closer to Sebastian, but the sound of your father dragging his chair and moving toward you made you step back shyly.  

“Well then… what’s the plan, Vettel? Are you staying here for a few days?”

Seb nodded nervously at Bernhard’s question. Even though he knew your father well and had met him countless times, he always felt nervous whenever they shared the same space, especially when they had a conversation.  

“Well… yes. If that’s okay with you, of course,” he quickly added, stepping closer to the older man. “I needed to get away from Switzerland for a bit, and even more from Heppenheim… to clear my head. And, to be honest, there’s no one else I’d rather spend this time with.”

His gaze shifted to you, who were trying to process his words. You kept glancing nervously between Bernhard and Sebastian, afraid one of them might say something inappropriate.  

“Of course, kid,” your father finally answered, giving Seb a pat on the back. “You know you’re more than welcome here. Hell, I should pay you extra for taking such good care of my little girl when you’re away!”

“Dad…”  

“I do it gladly, Bernhard. I’ve already told her, but in case she’s forgotten, let me say it again: I love spending time with Y/N.”

You lowered her gaze, embarrassed by all the attention you were receiving, and especially by the scene unfolding before you. You didn’t need to look up to know that Seb had his eyes on her, just like your father. You also knew that your aunt was probably muttering some comparison between your best friend and your boyfriend, and that your uncle would soon join in.  

Sebastian took a chance and, while continuing to talk with Bernhard who, due to his worsening health, had quickly taken a seat on one of the dining island stools, wrapped an arm around your shoulder.  

To their surprise, no one objected.  

“Uh… Dad?” you spoke up, your voice small and hesitant as you carefully removed Seb’s arm and leaned over the kitchen island.  

“Something wrong?”

“Would you mind if… if Seb and I went for a walk?” You asked timidly. “And would it be okay if we had dinner out?” You added, this time addressing your aunt.  

Johanna set down what she was doing and turned to you. She narrowed her eyes slightly, inspecting the pair of friends. Then, she placed the knife on the cutting board and turned to you with a smile.  

“Why are you asking me? You’re twenty-one, almost twenty-two, sweetheart,” she answered, now turning to Bernhard, who agreed with his sister-in-law. “You don’t need our permission to go out, Y/N.”

You opened her mouth to respond but immediately closed it again. Your cheeks turned a deep shade of red, standing out even more against your now pale skin. You stared straight ahead, absentmindedly playing with the hem of your sweater to avoid saying anything inappropriate again.  

To hide the fact that your insecurity and discomfort had, in some way, worsened since certain events with a certain person.  

“I think Y/N just wanted to check in case you were making extra food for dinner, Johanna,” Seb intervened. You met his gaze, silently thanking him for stepping in. “But if you’re worried about anything,” or Y/N, he thought to himself, “I promise to bring her back at a reasonable hour, safe and happy.”

Johanna raised an eyebrow. Meanwhile, Hans and Bernhard exchanged knowing looks, probably misinterpreting the German’s words, as they suddenly started chuckling.  

“Don’t even think about setting a curfew for my girl, Vettel. You’re a Formula 1 driver, and my daughter is six months away from graduating university. You’re both adults, for God’s sake!” Bernhard laughed, trying to keep a straight face.  

“We just don’t want you getting into trouble,” your uncle added. “I’m a lawyer, but I wouldn’t want you two as clients, especially not for free.”

Sebastian widened his eyes, unsure how to take the comment. You, on the other hand, just tried not to die of embarrassment, silently praying that the German was taking everything in stride.  

“Not to doubt you two, but, you know… trust is a dangerous thing.”

You can say that again, you thought, remembering the man twelve years older than you who, during your entire winter break, had barely reached out more than twice with phone calls that didn’t even last five minutes.

"Well, I think it's best if we start heading out," Seb commented as he grabbed his jacket from the back of a chair. "Come on, Y/N," he said, taking your hand while waving goodbye to your family with the other. "We won't be late, I swear!"

Your sisters said their reluctant goodbyes, thinking the German was going to play with them. Meanwhile, Hans and Bernhard started making bets about what would really happen between the two of you that night.

Johanna was the only one who walked you to the door, carefully adjusting your coats, scarves, and hats as if she was your mother.

"Have fun, you two, you deserve it. And you, Seb, don't think you’re getting out of helping me tomorrow. You still have to teach me that lemon cake recipe you always say your mother makes."

"Don’t worry, Johanna," Seb replied while holding the door open for you. "I’m saving my morning for you and your cooking sessions."

The woman smiled, delighted to have the German around, and said goodbye to you once more.

As soon as you stepped outside, the cool night air hit your faces. You took a moment to inhale and exhale, relaxing and feeling, for the first time in a long while, free. More than anything, you felt like yourself. Seb walked beside you, unable to stop smiling, grateful to be in his best friend’s hometown, with you by his side, helping him get through the rough patch caused by his breakup with Hanna.

"Do you always blush that much around your family, or is it just when you have company?" Seb asked after a while, nudging you playfully with his shoulder while keeping his hands in his pockets.

"Don't start with that, Seb! You know I can be a little shy sometimes..."

"It's okay, I already knew that," he interrupted. "I think it's really cute when you blush."

"Sometimes you're unbearable, you know that?" you shot back, playfully.

"I know, but you love me anyway."

It wasn't a question, but a statement. One you couldn’t argue with because she completely agreed.

And that, more than comforting you, made you worry more and more about your relationship.

Despite the recent snowfall, the streets of Linz were busier than you had expected. The ice-skating rinks were packed, and to your surprise, the winter market stalls, forming a kind of fair that attracted people of all ages almost daily and which you loved visiting, were overflowing with people.

Although taking Seb there had been your original plan for his first day, you had decided to do something more intimate with him instead, something you hadn’t done in a long time, not even with Mark. However, you knew your relationship with the German was special enough to share something so personal with him without regretting it afterward.

"Since this is the first time you’ve come to visit me, I’ve put together a little tour so you can really get to know my city," you explained, looking at him. "That way, when you leave, you’ll know Linz as well as I do. And maybe, if one day you bring someone here..."

"You’re going to show me what tourists don’t usually get to see, aren’t you?" he interrupted. "I mean… promise me you’ll show me every last little corner, even the ones way out on the city outskirts. That could really come in handy someday."

"No problem. I’ll show you everything you want," you replied, flashing him a proud smile.

He laughed at your comment. Taking his hands out of his pockets, he awkwardly brushed his right hand against your left one. You blushed and tried to move it away, but Seb didn’t let you, he ended up taking your hand, not caring that you were just friends and that you had a boyfriend.

Because you were just that, friends. No matter how much he wanted it, he could never, in his life, date someone like you. Because while Mark was already a man with a clear path and a well-established career, he was just a twenty-something still learning from every mistake he made.

With your hands still intertwined, Sebastian’s gaze roamed the streets, the people, and the buildings surrounding them.

"This place is beautiful, and peaceful in its own way despite the bustle. I can see why you love it so much..."

You nodded, feeling your heartbeat speed up. Linz wasn’t the best city in the world, nor did it hold many good memories for you since your mother’s suicide and your sudden move to Spain. But, at the end of the day, it was your home, and hearing him appreciate it meant more to you than you could ever admit.

You walked in comfortable silence for a while, stopping every so often so you could point out your old school, your university, and even your favorite café, the one you used to go to when studying at your aunt and uncle’s house became too chaotic.

However, just as you were nearing the place you wanted to take Seb, he broke the silence with a question that, while not entirely unexpected, was the last thing she thought he would ask.

"How are things with Mark?"

The casual question made you slow your pace slightly before quickly recovering and catching up with Sebastian.

"They’re… fine," you said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "You know, the usual. He’s in London, I’m here, we call each other..."

Don’t lie to him, Y/N.

"And does that make you happy?"

"Yes, of course."

You wanted to tell Seb the truth, but you couldn’t.

This time, he was the one who needed support, not to listen to complaints and tears about a relationship with a questionable age gap and an even more questionable dynamic.

"And how are you doing after everything with Hanna?" you asked, changing the subject and hoping you hadn’t overstepped. "Ever since you called to tell me what happened, I’ve been worried, but I didn’t want to push..."

Seb’s expression darkened slightly. He let out a sigh that you were sure he had been holding in longer than he would’ve liked, staring straight ahead as you walked.

"We’re okay. I’m okay," he corrected himself. "Nothing weird happened or anything, it’s just that…" he trailed off, possibly choosing his words carefully before continuing. "We ended things amicably, you know? No hard feelings, no fights, nothing like that."

"Well, I’m glad to hear that," you replied, choosing your words carefully as well. "It caught me completely off guard because… I don’t know, it seemed like everything was fine. You two were together for three years…"

"Yeah, three pretty good years, but I think we realized we were only staying together because we were comfortable, because it was our routine, not because we actually loved each other." He paused, looking at you. "She never said it, and neither did I, but I get the feeling we wanted completely different things in life, and that was hurting us, even if we didn’t mean to."

"And that makes it even harder..."

"Exactly," he admitted, giving you a bittersweet smile. "But I feel like it was the right decision for both of us. It’s just that… making such a risky choice after thinking about it for so long, and wanting to do the right thing, is tough. Honestly, right now, being alone again is really difficult, but I guess it’s just a matter of time before I get used to it."

You didn’t know what to say, and you had no clue what deeper meaning lay behind Sebastian’s words.

"You won’t be alone, Seb," you managed to say, trying not to get nervous. "You have me."

He looked at you, his body relaxing slightly as your steps fell back into rhythm.

"I know. And, even if you don’t believe it, that means much more to me than you can imagine."

For a moment, nothing and no one else existed, just you. You stared at each other, lost in each other’s eyes, as thoughts raced through your minds. Thoughts that, if spoken aloud, would haunt them for the rest of your lives, shattering everything you knew and had between you.

It wasn’t until you cleared your throat and quickened your pace that the moment broke.

"Come on, we’re almost there. I have a reservation at seven, and I don’t want us to be late."

"Wherever you say, my dear tour guide," Seb replied.

After walking for a few more minutes, you stopped in front of a restaurant tucked away in a small alley. Sonnengarten, garden of the sun in German, was written at the top of the façade, painted in a warm yellow color. Along with the soft lights illuminating it directly and the hanging flower baskets, it invited people to step inside. The instrumental music playing, what seemed to be rock from the '60s and '70s, was the cherry on top.  

“Well, here we are,” you said, visibly excited as she entered the restaurant.  

Seb watched you, noticing the special sparkle in your eyes.  

“Thanks for bringing me here. It’s obvious this place means a lot to you.”  

“It does,” you nodded, a small smile on your lips. “My mother used to bring us here every weekend. We always switched up our orders because, well, we loved, and still love, trying new things, but my dad always ordered a schnitzel,” you explained with excitement. That only made Seb feel even more grateful that you had brought him to such a special place. “My sisters and I would always try to convince him to try something different and share some of our food, but he always refused and made up some silly excuse.”  

“So, this is like… a sacred place for you, right?”  

“Yes, very much so. But since my mom passed away, we haven’t come back. Actually, this is the first time in years that I’ve come here to eat…”  

Your statement made Seb’s chest tighten. He knew how Rosalie, your mother, had died nearly eight years ago. He was fully aware of the impact it had on your life, which was precisely why he was more than grateful that you were sharing this detail, this part of your life, this seemingly important family tradition, with him.  

His friend. His best friend.  

“Really, Y/N, thank you for bringing me here,” the driver said sincerely.  

Before you could respond, a middle-aged man appeared in front of you. He quickly approached you and hugged you, a gesture you gladly accepted.  

“My dear Miss Y/L/N! It’s been so long, little one! You finally decided to come eat here again… it was about time!”  

“I’m really happy to be back as a customer, Matthias,” you replied kindly.  

The man’s eyes shifted to Sebastian, whom he openly scanned from head to toe. Once he recognized him, his eyes widened. After all, it was widely known in the city that Y/N Y/L/N was not only an intern for one of the most successful Formula 1 teams of the past year but also lucky enough to be working with one of the sport’s rising stars.  

“Well, well, Sebastian Vettel!” the man exclaimed excitedly, offering his hand to the German, who shook it with a smile. “Are you two dating?” he asked curiously.  

“No, no! He’s just a good friend of mine,” you said quickly, avoiding Seb’s gaze. “My… boyfriend,” you managed to say, barely containing youR embarrassment, “is the other Red Bull driver, Mark Webber.”  

“Oh, well, no problem!” Matthias laughed heartily, giving Seb a friendly pat on the shoulder. “Any friend of our Y/N is a friend of ours. Now, come on, I’ll take you to the Y/L/N family table. I’ve been reserving it since Y/N told me she was coming.”  

Sebastian observed you as the waiter led you to a table in a corner by a large window. You simply shrugged and smiled, feeling proud to see how happy and, most importantly, how at ease the boy seemed.  

You couldn’t help but feel a little nervous and special at the same time when, before you could sit down, Seb pulled out the chair for you and pushed it in gently once you were seated.  

“Well, Miss Y/L/N, I’ll be back in a bit with the dishes I know are your favorites. Enjoy your evening.”  

The waiter winked at you and, once he was far enough away, you buried your face in your hands, utterly embarrassed by the scene you had just lived through.  

“Oh god… I can’t believe he thought we were together,” you murmured. “Everyone here knows I’m with Mark…”  

“Well, maybe they think we’d make a good couple.”  

Seb laughed at his own comment, and you shot him a death glare, though it didn’t last long as the corner of your lips curved into a smile.  

“Don’t start with that too.”  

“I’m just joking, Y/N,” Vettel said with a satisfied grin. “Besides, if people think we’re together and we get, I don’t know, good tables like this one,” he pointed at their spot, “and free pastries like the ones the bakery lady gave me near your house today, I wouldn’t mind pretending we’re a couple.”  

You rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the flicker of warmth that bloomed inside you as you imagined a hypothetical situation where you and Seb were together, where you shared more than just friendship.  

“Well, I think it’s time we have a slightly more serious conversation, so no boyfriends, exes, or fake relationships,” you said as you leaned forward, resting your elbows on the table. “What’s the plan for this year? Do you think you can win the championship?”  

“That’s the goal, my dear," he chuckled, pouring himself a glass of water and taking a sip. “For now, I think the car is good, and we have a strong team, but you know how things can go…”  

“The important thing is that you have what it takes, Seb: talent and ambition.”  

He smiled, a little shy at your compliment, and adjusted himself in his seat.  

“So, you better be ready to put up with me every time you win,” you continued playfully.  

“Only if you ditch Mark so we can celebrate properly.”  

Sebastian immediately realized he might have messed up with that comment.  

You, instead of responding, did your best to force a smile and act like you hadn’t heard what the German had just said.  

“By the way…” the driver spoke carefully, knowing he might be treading on dangerous ground. “When are we going to plan something? I came here, but you know… plans like we used to make when we were at Toro Rosso and before you started dating Mark…”  

You didn’t know what to say. You hesitated before answering, thinking about how things had changed since you were single and he was in a relationship with Hanna, who had always been wonderful to you and never minded Sebastian and you hanging out together. She had even tagged along on some of their outings, something that made you feel terribly guilty but, at the same time, too bad to refuse given how kind both of them were to you.  

“I don’t know, Seb. Things are… complicated, different… It’s nothing you don’t already know.”  

It’s obvious there are things Seb doesn’t know. Don’t fool yourself.  

“Well, we’ll come up with something,” he replied, trying to believe his own words. “We could go out after a race, grab something to eat… Or, I don’t know, during the summer break I could take you to the karting track where I used to go as a kid and see Michael…”  

You couldn’t keep listening because it hurt. The idea of doing such personal and meaningful things with Sebastian was difficult to process, especially considering you were dating Mark, and no matter how much you tried to talk to him about it, he wouldn’t take it well. You didn’t deserve that kind of attention, even though it was the only way someone had ever shown her… affection, love, or any of its variations. Mark had barely paid you any attention since you started dating, something you had noticed in other couples but had never experienced yourself.  

Seb kept talking, but the sound of your phone ringing, a childish melody set by his sister Louisa, snapped you back to reality.  

Your heart clenched when you saw Mark’s name on the screen.  

Your stomach twisted, anxiety creeping in, the weight of everything you hadn’t told anyone, not even Seb, suddenly pressing down on you again, returning in full force as if it had never left, not even when Webber seemed to have forgotten about you.  

“Are you going to answer?” Seb asked, tilting his head slightly as he noticed how doubtful you were.

You didn't move. You couldn't. You weren't ready to face a call from your boyfriend after weeks of not hearing from him, especially not in the situation you were in.

And even less so considering who you were spending time with at that moment, and how stubborn Mark had been about your relationship with Sebastian ever since you started dating, even knowing that you were, in reality, just very good friends.

“It’s just… It’s Mark,” was all you could whisper.

“And are you just going to let it ring? Come on, Y/N, he’s your boyfriend. It’s not like he’s going to kill you if you answer.”

“I’ll call him when we get home,” you swallowed hard, feeling your hands starting to sweat.

“Y/N,” Seb said, sounding more authoritative than he would have liked. “It’s just a call. What’s the worst that could happen?”

If only you knew...

“Come on, Y/N, pick it up. If he's calling, it must be important.”

Your fingers trembled slightly until you finally decided to press the answer button.

You forced a smile, even though the only thing you wanted to do at that moment was cry and tell Sebastian the whole truth. Instead, you put the phone to your ear and answered, trying your best to keep your voice steady.

“Hello, Mark…”

“Damn, it’s about time you answered. Do you mind telling me where you are? I’ve been trying to reach you for days and days, and you’ve just ignored me.”

It’s a lie, Y/N. He hasn’t called. He’s manipulating you because, once again, he’s forgotten about you...

“I’m out,” you replied, controlling everything you said while looking at Seb, who had started talking with Matthias. “I’m having dinner.”

“And who exactly are you with?” Mark asked disparagingly, totally suspicious of you.

You gripped the phone tightly and opened your mouth to respond with the first excuse that came to your mind. But before you could, Matthias started talking too loudly with your companion:

“You’re such a gentleman with our Y/N, Sebastian! Are you sure you’re just friends?”

“Just friends, Matthias, really,” Seb replied cheerfully, although alert to you, who seemed terrified.

“Sebastian? What exact Sebastian, Y/N?”

Your blood ran cold when you heard the aggressive tone Mark was using on the other end of the phone.

“Mark, it’s not what you think…”

“Who the fuck are you with, Y/N?” Mark exploded. Even Sebastian and Matthias, who were still talking, seemed to hear the yelling coming from the phone. “Are you with Sebastian Vettel? Is it the Sebastian Vettel I’m imagining?”

“Mark, please, let me explain…”

“Explain what?” the Australian's voice started getting louder and angrier. “That you went out to dinner with him as if that was the most normal thing in the world?”

Seb, noticing the sudden change in you, both in your mood and body language, became alert. He turned his attention back to the waiter, this time giving an excuse after he placed all the plates on their table so that he could leave and give you some privacy.

Your tense posture and the fact that you became so silent, just listening to what his teammate was saying on the other side of the line, didn’t go unnoticed by him, and he knew there was more between them than what his friend wanted him to know.

“Take good care of her, Sebastian. Y/N deserves the best.”

Seb smiled kindly at Matthias’s words, and his eyes followed him until he was far enough away. His eyes then returned to you.

Something wasn’t right, and it was creating a feeling of internal rage in Seb that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Mark, I’ll call you when I get home, okay? I don’t want…”

“So you’re with him, right?” the Australian spat, not letting her finish. “Sebastian Vettel... Out of all the damn people you could be with, you’re with him…”

“Mark, please… Let me explain…” You started, your words already bordering on pleading.

“Think about the kind of girlfriend you are, Y/N,” his voice, though calm now, you knew he was about to start throwing poisoned darts that would torment you in the weeks to come. “While I’m busting my ass working, training, doing everything I can to move the damn team forward, you’re out there with the guy you claim is your best friend, going on dates. How would you feel if it were the other way around, Y/N?”

“It’s not what you think,” you whispered, unable to control the tremor in your voice.

“Oh really? Then what is it? Because to me, it looks like you're acting with another man the way you should be acting with your boyfriend. How do you think that makes me feel, huh?”

Don’t believe his words, Y/N... He’s trying to convince himself that it’s your fault just because he’s ignored you for almost a month...

“Mark, he’s my best friend, and you’ve known that since before we started dating. I haven’t hidden it from you, just like I’m not hiding anything from you now.”

Sebastian, paying close attention to every word from you, felt his heart drop at what you had said, especially the tone you used.

You mattered to Sebastian, just as he mattered to you.

“I wouldn’t take a girl to the city I grew up in if she was just my best friend, leaving my girlfriend feeling like second best, but hey, to each their own…”

You sighed, unable to stop looking at Seb, hurt by the words Mark had just said, even though you convinced yourself, despite knowing you were lying to yourself, that the Australian cared about you enough to consider you a girlfriend.

Oh my God, Y/N, you haven’t even met his parents yet…

“You’re being unfair,” was all you could say.

“No, if anyone’s being unfair here, it’s you, Y/N,” replied Mark. “You’re selfish, and you think of no one but yourself.”

“I don’t want to keep talking about this, Mark…”

“Of course you don’t. Because you don’t want Seb to know what you’re really like,” Webber said harshly. “Maybe I should tell him myself. Do you think he’d believe me? Would he still want a bitch like you if he knew the real you?”

Your stomach dropped at what Mark had just said. You didn’t know what to say; you didn’t know how to contradict him because you knew it was impossible to make him think otherwise.

The worst part? Sebastian’s face went completely pale, which made you worry even more about what your friend might now think of you.

Without saying anything else, and while you still faintly heard the Australian’s reproaches, you ended the call, throwing the phone harshly on the table and unable to control your hands, which were shaking more and more.

“Y/N…” Seb spoke, unsure of how to approach the conversation he wanted to have with you about what had just happened.

“It’s... It doesn’t matter,” you corrected yourself. The last thing you wanted was for that heated conversation you had had with Mark to ruin your time with Seb, especially your stay with the German. “Let’s eat and let everything else rest, okay? I’ve been planning this for weeks, and I don’t want to ruin it because of a conversation that never should have happened.”

Seb didn’t seem entirely convinced by your words, and even less by your attitude. He knew you were broken inside at that moment, and nothing hurt him more than knowing he didn’t know how to help you.

“Y/N, if something’s wrong... you can tell me. You know that, right?”

You tried to force a smile again, but it was impossible. Instead, tears began to fall from your eyes, and no matter how hard you tried to control them, you couldn’t.

“It’s okay, Seb, it’s nothing. I swear.”

Lie to yourself if you want, but don’t lie to him.

“Really, Y/N... No matter what you need or when you need it, I’ll be here... You’re not alone, Y/N, okay? Come what may.”

You looked at your hands, now in Seb’s. His thumb was calmly rubbing over them, something Seb knew perfectly well relaxed you when you had anxiety, like now, when you felt on the edge of a panic attack; or at least, that’s what the constant feeling of suffocation you couldn’t shake off told you, no matter how hard you tried to control your breathing and especially promise yourself that everything would be fine.

Don’t be so dramatic, Y/N, Mark’s voice echoed in your head in such a scene, making you pull your hands from the table and hide them beneath it, embarrassed.

Sebastian sighed, knowing he wouldn’t stop trying to help you, no matter how reluctant you were. If you wanted to end the contact, so be it, but that didn’t mean he’d stop trying to make sure you were okay.

“I mean it, Y/N,” the guy insisted. “Whatever it is you’re going through, you don’t have to do it alone. You’re my best friend, and best friends are there to support each other. Just like you’re doing now, with me, with Hanna,” he added.

You looked up at him again, and your chest tightened. How could he be so noble with you? How was he able to say the words you needed to hear at every moment? With Mark, you felt small, as if you didn’t matter at all, but Seb... he made you feel like a princess straight out of a fairy tale, whose ending was still to be written.

“Thank you, Seb,” you murmured, unable to take your eyes off those blue eyes that so relaxed you. “For… everything.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Y/N. That’s what friends are for.”

You wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe that, unlike your boyfriend, if you even were, or ever had been, someone could care about you. You didn’t want to give your best friend false hopes, but the way he treated you, how it seemed like he cared...

Why did Seb make you feel like the most special person in the world when the person who was supposed to care about you the most didn’t even bother to try?

Sebastian Vettel knew you like the back of his hand, and that was exactly what scared you the most.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ HOW DO YOU TURN THIS THING OFF? — LN4

pairing: lando norris x girlfriend!reader

summary: fans love when you make appearances in landos streams. it’s usually because he doesn’t know where something is, and the internet goes crazy over their favorite certified himbo. on one stream, you get a taste of your own medicine when lando tasks you with turning the live feed off, and fans get a little more of an insight into your relationship

genre: established relationship, humour

ੈ✩‧₊˚ yourusername just tweeted

ੈ✩‧₊˚ user2 just made a thread

ੈ✩‧₊˚ landonorris just posted a photo

liked by yourusername and 406,409 others

landonorris dinner date then stream, be there or be square, 6pm

view all comments

maxfewtrell did she have to show you how to use a knife and fork too?

yourusername i definitely had to show him how to fill my wine glass up when it was empty

user PUT Y/N ON THE STREAM WE WANT MORE Y/N

user if he comes on in a dress shirt i’m Dead

user oh they’ve all definitely seen the thread😭😭

ੈ✩‧₊˚ user just posted a thread

ੈ✩‧₊˚ yourusername just posted a photo

liked by landonorris and 108,654 others

yourusername this time it was my own stupidity that let the secret out. and i didn’t have to show him how to propose! he did it all on his own accord!

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user YOU’RE SUCH AN ICON

user only lando and y/n could accidentally expose their own engagement

user THE CAPTION😭😭 she really has kept him alive all these years huh

user ‘i wouldn’t want to think of a life without you anyway’ now if that’s not meant to be than what is

landonorris i love you

landonorris really quick whilst we’re at it,,, where tf do we keep the spare phone chargers?

yourusername oh.. oh baby. i’ll be home in 5

————

a/n: hELLO! so the snippet from this got over 200 notes and i couldn’t wait to post it because you all loved it so much!

for the rest of my wips, check out the wip game linked in my pinned post!!

all of your feedback over the last few days has made me so happy sjdjsjs, any thoughts please feel free to send i am having so much fun creating for you guys. i seriously appreciate every like comment ask and follow!! anon emojis are now listed in my bio so if you wanna chat a bunch, have a look at what’s free !

- giselle

taglist (found here): @idkiwantchocolatee @vellicora @alessioayla @bborra @crimeshowjunkie @minkyungseokie @paolexsstuff @celestialpato @champagnelovers101 @loxbbg @hobiismyhopeu @tsukishitm-a @moonypixel @champagneproblems17 @ironmaiden1313 @lqvesoph @sunflower-golden-vol6 @six-call @skatingiswalkingincursive @peqch-pie @m0cha-bunny @woozarts @he6rtshaker @iluvvmeeee @goldenalbon @izzy-marvel @lucyysthings @lichterfee @tallrock35 @treehouse-house @iloveyou3000morgan

dios franco lpm no te juntes con pelotudos no aprendiste nada del evento de la china

Franco Colapinto with ex footballer Sergio Agüero at Alpine Hexagon Cup 2025, a padel show, in Madrid, Spain. 30th january, 2025 (Diario Marca)

lando summer moodboard!!

"Will you still want to see me after the summer is over?"

"Are you kidding? You were the best thing that ever happened to my life, I would be a fool to let you go."

'summer love with lando' moodboard.

hope you enjoy it! 🧡

also, i'm so so sorry i've just realized i've attached this to your previous request rather than the one you were more specific :( but nonetheless, hope it met your vision!

gosh im so happy with all the williams carlos content we are having these days if I'm feeling new I DON'T IMAGINE HOW FRESH HE MUST FEEL

A chance | LN4

Summary: Lando has been in love with the same person since he was 18. The problem? She doesn't think it will work out because he's younger.

Pairing: Lando Norris X Actress!Reader

English is not my first language, maybe I will do a part two 👀

"Why don't you want to be with me?" Lando says close to Y/n's ear so she can hear.

They were at a party, Lando was P1, and that night was all about him.

"Lando, why don't you enjoy your night?" She says pushing him a little and he kisses her cheek.

"I'm trying to do this, but the prettiest girl at the party is turning me down once again."

Y/n rolls her eyes but smiles, fixing Lando's hair with her hands.

"I already told you-"

"I know, I know, I'm younger than you, but you need to understand that 18-year-old Lando already dreamed of Y/n 22 and now 25-year-old Lando dreams of Y/n 29 and 85-year-old Lando will dream of Y/n... How old will you be?" He says, thinking a little.

"Fuck you're so drunk." She says laughing and he smiles when he sees her smile.

"Fuck you're so beautiful." Lando leans in to kiss her, but Y/n turns her face away.

"Lando, no." Y/n says, gently pinching Lando's belly, making him pull away with a grimace.

"Come on, give me a chance, just one kiss and I promise to stop bothering you." She thinks for a bit.

"I know you won't stop."

"Please, I promise I'll stop." He says, dropping the glass he was holding anywhere, and takes Y/n's face with both hands. "Can I?" He asks inches from her mouth.

"You're insufferable, you know that?" Lando crushes his lips to hers, and my God, it was so worth it to almost beg her on his knees.

Lando asks for passage with his tongue and when he gives in, he just wants to stay there forever.

The kiss gets hotter and Y/n pulls away a little to be able to breathe.

"What a delicious mouth." He says, pulling her lower lip with his teeth and giving her three little pecks.

"Have you gotten your kiss yet, satisfied?"

"I wanted your heart, but I'll hold back with a kiss."

"You don't give up, do you?" She says, putting her arms around her shoulders.

"Never, 18 year old Lando wouldn't believe the girl in my arms right now." Lando always speaks close to her ear so she can understand everything.

"Congratulations, P1." Y/n says kissing Lando's cheek and he feels that this kiss practically sobered him up again.

"Will I get a kiss like this every time I get P1?"

"Don't force it, Cat." She says, walking away and Lando takes her hand again.

"Nooo, you can't do this." Lando says whimpering.

"You promised Lando."

"I promised?" Lando says pulling her by the waist, and kissing her lips again, this time more slowly, more passionate, it was as if they weren't in a crowded place, and God, Y/n is praying that no one took any pictures of this.

But they took it away.

A few hours later the news was all over social media.

F1news Things are heating up! 👀 Lando Norris and Y/n are seen kissing at the party celebrating Lando's P1, some people who were on the way back confirmed that they spent practically the whole night close to each other, could a relationship be on the way?

—

User1 What the fuck is this?

User2 Wow, isn't she much older than him?

— User3 It's only four years girl 🙄

User4 Why is everyone so surprised?

— User5 Yes, Lando had already said that she has been his celebrity crush since he was 18.

User6 I think I'm jealous of Lando.

— user7 I think I'm jealous of both of them.

User8 Well, he never hid the fact that he was interested in her.

User9 Have you ever imagined the beautiful child that would be born?

— User 10 She's much older than him...

User 11 Damn, stop treating her like her age is wrong or something.

——

Y/n wakes up with her phone vibrating like crazy.

"Where the fuck is this?" She gropes blindly on the bed until she finds the device, reading the following messages:

Lando: Please don't be mad at me.

Lando: Are you mad at me? 😟

She sits on the bed, a little confused, why would she be mad at him? But soon she also sees some messages from Carlos.

Carlos: Please don't be mad at Lando.

Carlos: He swears he didn't want to cause a scandal for you.

Carlos: Yes, he forced me to send this, block this bastard now.

And to top it off, she sees a message from her best friend.

Bestf: Seriously Lando? And you still swore to me that you didn't want to get him 😏

She closes her eyes and lies down on the bed again, she already knows exactly what happened.

Fuck.

searching red bull outfits inspo just beacuse maybe I really buy the rb cap for my birthday