Hi Love!! When Is The Next Part Of ‘you Were Never Not Mine’ Going To Be Uploaded?? I Am In Loveeee
hi love!! when is the next part of ‘you were never not mine’ going to be uploaded?? i am in loveeee
SCENE 7 :: WE'LL PAY THE PRICE, I GUESS ↳ you were never not mine — carlos sainz ༉‧₊˚✧
★ : pairing :: carlos sainz x reader ★ : genre :: angst; smut; fluff ★ : words :: 3.8k separated by a hidden emotional turmoil, carlos and y/n navigate the complexities of co-parenting their twins amidst the high-stakes f1 world. amidst paddock visits and personal healing, will they go further apart or find their wayback to each other? ★ : a/n :: i made lots of social media posts/texts for this but decided to scratch it and write it at last. shows the dynamic or carlos and y/n more than anything. it's mostly nsfw so yeah enjoy? writing is a bit dusty and not proofread
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The first thing you feel is warmth. A hauntingly familiar one.
Not the kind from blankets or the sun creeping in through the curtains, but something heavier, something real, something that wasn’t making you sweat but making your chest ache.
Slowly, you registered the weight of a hand resting on your hip. The press of soft lips against your cheek. A breathy chuckle against your skin when you scrunch your nose but don’t wake up.
You don’t have to open your eyes to know who it is.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice low and raspy from sleep, lips grazing the corner of your jaw before trailing lazily toward your lips.
You make a sleepy sound in protest, burying your face into the pillow. “Go away.”
He hums, amused at your cheeks burning up, but doesn’t back off. His fingers tighten slightly at your waist as he leans in again, brushing his nose against your cheek before pressing a lingering kiss to your lips. “Never.”
Your brows furrow, eyes still closed when you hear an exhale of breath. “What’s wrong?”
Carlos sighs again, shifting slightly, making the blanket move and suddenly you realize why he sounds so strained. His arms are awkwardly folded at his sides, barely moving, like he’s trapped.
That’s when you register the tiny limbs sprawled across both of you and you pursue your lips in order to not burst out laughing.
One of your twins is half on Carlos’s chest, little fingers fisted into his shirt, while the other is wedged between you two, his foot pressed right into Carlos’s stomach.
“Ah,” you whisper, taking in the sight. “You’re stuck.”
Carlos groans dramatically. “Sí, and my arm is asleep.” He tilts his head toward you, lips brushing your temple as he speaks. “I have been trying to wake you up, but someone wouldn’t move.”
You smile sleepily, your fingers finding their way to his naked chest, gently tracing patterns over his skin. “You could’ve just moved them.”
Carlos gives you a look, like you’ve suggested something ridiculous. “And risk waking them up? I love them but it’s too early...”
One of the twins stirs slightly, mumbling something incoherent before curling further into Carlos. He stiffens. “This is a dangerous game, baby. We have to get them back to their room before they take over completely.”
You glance at them, at the peaceful little faces snuggled into the safety of their dad’s arms, and suddenly, you don’t feel like moving. But Carlos nudges you gently.
“Come on,” he whispers, “help me.”
Carefully, you both begin the delicate mission of untangling yourselves from your children. Carlos shifts first, expertly maneuvering one twin into your arms before you slide out of bed. He follows immediately after, scooping up the other in one practiced motion.
It comes so naturally to him that it has your poor stomach twisting.
The hallway is dim, the house still quiet as you make your way to their room.
Carlos walks ahead of you, stepping lightly, a hand cradling the back of your son’s head to keep him from stirring. You follow, watching as he nudges the door open with his foot before stepping inside.
There’s a soft glow from the nightlight. The room is neat, save for a few scattered toys and a forgotten stuffed animal on the floor.
You place the first twin into his teddy bear-shaped bed, tucking the blanket over him gently.
Carlos lays down the other twin in his race car bed, brushing a stray curl from his forehead before stepping back beside you.
For a moment, you both just watch them.
“They move so much in their sleep.”
“Like their dad.” You smile, whispering back.
Carlos nudges you playfully with his elbow, making you stifle a laugh before he tilts his head toward the little red car bed. “We should change that color, you know.”
You arch a brow at him. “What, so my baby can have a McLaren instead?”
Carlos scoffs, his eyes pointed at you in disbelief. Only you really could find humor in joking about that so early in the morning.
You bite your lip, stifling another laugh. “So dramatic.” He leans in slightly, lowering his voice. “I’m serious.”
Carlos doesn’t argue further, choosing to ignore the mention of Oscar. Instead, his fingers ghost over your wrist, a barely-there touch, before he gently takes your hand in his. His thumb runs absentmindedly over your skin, slow and deliberate.
“Let’s go,” he murmurs, his voice softer now.
He’s leaning down to press a kiss to the twin nearest to him as you do the same but when you turn your head toward him, your heart skips slightly at the way he’s looking at you warm, familiar, like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.
Good, you didn’t want him anywhere but here either.
You hesitate, but Carlos doesn’t rush you. He just tugs lightly at your hand, pulling you with him, step by step, back toward your bedroom.
The moment you cross the threshold, his hands settle on your waist, guiding you back onto the mattress. He follows soon after, his body fitting easily against yours, like he was always meant to be there.
Neither of you speak for a moment. The world outside is still.
Then, quietly, almost hesitantly, you hear him say, “I missed this.”
The words steal your air and your throat tightens as you look at him. He looks exactly the same, his familiarity making you relax but at the same time, he’s so different. It didn’t make any sense and you hoped your brain wasn’t fucking with you right now.
When he watches you lose yourself in your head, Carlos kisses you slowly, like he has all the time in the world, like he wants to feel every second of this
His lips brush over yours, not demanding, not urgent. Just there, waiting, savoring. His hands move with purpose, tracing familiar curves with a tenderness that makes your breath hitch.
And okay, you feel the shift immediately. He’s been yearning for this. The way his breathing is almost non-existent and his hands are secured around your hip.
This isn’t about erasing the past or proving something.
It’s about being here, in this moment, together because being anywhere else would be a crime. The last time you guys were together had been rushed. Pathetic. Desperate.
It had been hands fumbling, mouths clashing, bodies colliding in a mess of need. A frantic attempt to reclaim something you both thought had been lost forever.
You hadn’t spoken much then, just whispered names and broken sounds, drowning in something neither of you had been ready to name yet.
Carlos exhales against your lips, his forehead pressing to yours. "You’re so beautiful," he whispers, voice raw, like the thought physically hurts him.
Your fingers slide into his hair, tugging gently, warning him to tone down the cringe. "You always say that." Rolling your eyes you hum as he sucks at your pulse point. Eyes closing.
He pulls back just enough to look at you, thumb grazing the curve of your jaw. "Because it’s always true."
That makes you shiver beneath him, and it’s not from the cold.
Carlos kisses his way down your body, slow and reverent, his hands steadying you as he moves. When he reaches the hem of your shirt, he hesitates, fingers curling into the fabric.
He looks up at you. Waiting. It makes your heartbeat race and you curse yourself in your head as you nod.
Not giving you enough time to overthink, Carlos lifts your shirt over your head, his gaze never leaving yours. But the moment his gaze travels down towards your flesh, his expression changes.
His breath stutters. His entire body stills.
You know exactly what he’s looking at.
His fingers twitch at his sides, like he wants to touch you but doesn’t trust himself. His lips part, a shaky breath slipping through, and then-
Then his eyes glass over.
You watch the moment it hits him, the realization that your body carries proof of everything you went through without him. How you have to live through it everytime you catch a glimpse of your naked self.
The scars are faint now, healed over time, but they’re still there. Marks of the past. Marks of pain. Marks of life and loss. The one you made together but you lost alone.
Carlos presses his lips together, his jaw tightening like he’s trying to stop himself from breaking. But it’s no use.
A tear slips down his cheek and it makes your heart clench.
"Babe," you whisper, reaching for him, but he shakes his head quickly, closing his eyes like he needs a second to pull himself together. And you nod to no one in particular.
Then, very gently, after moments that felt like forever, he touches you.
His hands are warm, calloused, shaking as they trail over your stomach, mapping out the places he never got to hold, the changes he never got to witness. He traces one of the scars with his thumb, his breathing uneven, his shoulders trembling.
“I… I-” His voice cracks. He swallows, blinking rapidly, his thumb pressing slightly firmer against your skin like he’s trying to ground himself. "I should have been there."
You freeze for a second. Of course, he should have been. You remember it like yesterday, when he was on the way to the airport. You called him because it hurt. The hurt was killing you and he dismissed it with a simple,“Please visit the doctor, sweetheart.”
Before he was on the flight while the doctors cut open the baby from your stomach only to find that…
You shake your head. It was too dark, you never want to relive it. Cupping his face, you wipe away a stray tear with your thumb. “You’re here now.” It was pointless to think about it now. You have let that hold you back, too much. You deserved to be more than that.
Carlos lets out a choked breath, half a laugh, half a sob which pulls you back to the present.
He presses his forehead to your stomach gently, lips brushing the scars like a silent apology.
Your fingers thread through his hair. “Do you still want me?” you ask softly. It was heartbreaking to be this vulnerable with him again,“I need to know, Carlos.” Maybe you could have worded that better but the need for physical intimacy was too overwhelming.
His hands squeeze at your waist, as if the idea of letting go physically pains him. "You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted."
You gasp when you realise it, and suddenly, you’re the one who can’t breathe.
You’re pulling him up immediately, guiding him back to you. His lips crash against yours, but there’s still nothing rushed about it, just aching, consuming want.
When you reach for the waistband of his sweats, he lets you. When you push him back onto the mattress, he mutters a ‘yes, please’. When you straddle him, lining up yourself against him with slow, deliberate movements, his breath shudders beneath you.
Carlos is breaking apart beneath your hands, but he lets you put him back together.
His hands grip your hips, but you set the pace: slow, deep. Making sure he feels all of it. The first roll of your hips is met with a broken sound from his lips.
The second, with a whispered, "I love you."
By the third, he’s crying again.
You lean forward, brushing your lips over his, swallowing his shaky breaths. "It’s okay," you whisper. "I’ve got you."
Carlos exhales sharply, fingers digging into your thighs. "You feel so-" He cuts himself off with a strangled sound, his body shuddering beneath you. "I don’t deserve this."
"Maybe." You press your forehead to his. Was that mean? Maybe. But you weren’t gonna hide or lie. Not anymore. "But you have me anyway."
Carlos lets out a cracked geoan, his arms wrapping around you, holding you as close as humanly possible as you move together, slow and steady. You grind against him and he lets you do whatever you want.
When you finally reach the edge, you press your fingers against your swollen clit but Carlos quickly replaces it with his own, pushing up to increase the speed as he takes back some control.
You let go and cry out as his teeth sink to your shoulder, your nails gripping his back, as your back arches. It feels so good that you’re almost sad to have come. The climax ends in contracting your muscles making him shake before he weakly tries to pull you up.
You whine and push down, relieved that he’s still inside you. He groans again, forehead pressed to yours like he never wants to leave but he’s shaking all over,”Baby, I’m gonna-”
"You don’t have to pull out."
Carlos stills.
For a second, you think maybe he didn’t hear you, but then his entire body tenses and you feel his sticky release fill you up.
His eyes snap open, wide and searching, like he’s trying to make sure you’re serious. His lips part slightly, his breathing suddenly uneven.
"What?"
Your fingers slide into his hair, a small, nervous smile tugging at your lips.
"We’re way past worrying about that now."
Carlos doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink.
You can feel the exact moment it registers.
His hands tighten on your waist, his breath shaking as his mouth opens like he wants to say something but can’t find the words. His eyes flicker over your face, as if he’s waiting for you to laugh, to tell him this is a joke-
But you just hold his gaze, nodding softly.
“Yeah.”
And that’s when it happens.
Carlos’s hands fly to your hips, and suddenly, he’s flipping you onto your back to regain control as if he just wasn’t having a breakdown. You gasp in shock, his body hovering over you, protective, panicked, completely wrecked.
“Y/N.” His voice is low, almost scolding, but you can hear the shake beneath it. His jaw tightens, eyes darting over your face like he’s checking, searching- like you might disappear if he looks away. "You- are you serious?"
You cup his face, thumbs smoothing over his cheekbones. "Carlos- "
"You should have told me." His voice is raw, laced with fear he’s trying so hard to bury. "You- fuck, cara, you should have told me."
Your breath catches at the way his hands clench into the sheets beside you, at the way his forehead presses to yours, like he’s holding himself back from completely falling apart. THis was also a breakdown, just a mental one this time.
“You know now,” you whisper.
Carlos lets out a shaky exhale, his fingers twitching like he wants to touch you but is afraid to.
“You almost- ” He swallows hard, closing his eyes for a second, as if the memory of what happened last time is too much.
He shakes his head. “No, I'm so fucking sorry for doing this to you. You can’t- I can’t go through that again.”
Your heart clenches. “Carlos- ”
“Y/N,” he breathes, pulling back to look at you fully, his hands framing your face, thumbs brushing over your skin like you’re something delicate, something he’s terrified of breaking. “You don’t understand. I- I nearly lost you."
His voice breaks on the last word.
You inhale sharply.
Carlos’s throat works, his breath heavy and uneven. "I wasn’t there. I didn’t even fucking know- " His eyes squeeze shut, his entire body trembling as he shakes his head, "...and if it happens again- "
"It won’t," you whisper, cupping his jaw.
He exhales a quiet, pained laugh, his eyes snapping open. "We don’t know that."
You pull him closer, pressing your lips to his softly, trying to erase the ghosts he’s drowning in.
Carlos doesn’t kiss you back at first. He’s too stiff, too overwhelmed, his hands still holding your face like he’s checking if you’re real.
Then, you whisper against his lips, "I want this, Carlos."
He lets out a low, strangled sound, like the weight of those words is too much.
“The doctor said it’s all safe,” you say again, voice soft but sure.
Carlos’s jaw tightens. His hands fall to your waist, his thumbs pressing into your skin like he needs to feel you, anchor himself in you.
"You- " He stops himself, inhales sharply, then exhales, voice barely steady. “You want this?”
You nod, firmly. Funny how he only focused on that part. “With you? Always.”
Carlos searches your face, like he’s still afraid, like his body is still buzzing with the panic of almost losing you again. But then, his forehead presses back to yours, and he breathes you in- breathes this in- and something shifts.
Something clicks.
His lips brush against yours, soft, hesitant, pleading.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispers.
"You won’t. I want you."
Carlos lets out a slow breath, presses a kiss to your shoulder, then another to your collarbone. His hands move slower now, gentler, as if relearning you, as if making sure you feel every single touch.
And this time, when he pushes inside you again, it's not desperate, it's deliberate.
Carlos moves like he’s memorizing you, like he’s worshiping every inch of you, like he’s trying to replace every painful memory with this.
His lips find yours in the quietest confession, his hands gripping your waist, steadying himself as his forehead presses against yours.
His voice is barely a whisper.
"I love you."
You whimper, nails digging into his back, pulling him closer, deeper.
His lips find your throat, pressing kisses so slow and sweet it makes your chest ache.
Carlos shudders against you, his breath uneven, his arms shaking as he moves with you, not just in you, but with you. You are quick to reach your finish, too overstimulated to take time. Your walls sucking his orgasm out of him.
And when he finally lets go, when his body tenses and his hands clutch you tighter, it’s not panic that follows.
It’s relief. It’s acceptance. It’s home.
Carlos is heavy on top of you, completely boneless as he breathes against your shoulder. His weight is comforting, his warmth all-consuming, and for the first time in what feels like forever…
Everything feels right.
Your fingers move lazily through his hair, nails scraping gently at his scalp. Carlos hums at the sensation, pressing one last, slow kiss against your shoulder before pulling back just enough to look at you.
His eyes are still soft, heavy with emotion, but there’s something else now. A sort of calm that wasn’t there before.
“You’ve ruined everyone for me.” Carlos exhales, lips quivering into a tired smirk.
You make a face, pushing at his chest as if he wasn’t piecing you back together minute by minute. “You’re so dramatic.”
Carlos grins, rolling onto his side, but he doesn’t let you go completely. His hand slides over your stomach, fingers tracing absentminded shapes against your skin.
At least he doesn’t look panicked anymore.
“In this forever now, huh?” he murmurs and your heart stumbles.
You cup his jaw, pressing a kiss to his lips, slow and deliberate. “We as in us, Alisa and Oscar?”
“For fuck’s sake, baby,” His eyes flutter shut for a second, like he’s calming himself down, before he exhales.
You bite back a smile, arms wrapping around his neck. “You are a big boy, you can take it.”
“Only for you.” He nips at your bottom lip, grinning when you gasp. "You’re stuck with me now, cariño."
And for the first time in months, you believe it.
For the first time, there’s no uncertainty, no lingering fear that this will fall apart again. Just Carlos, tangled up with you, holding you like he’ll never let go.
It’s perfect. It’s peaceful- your phone suddenly rings and you both groan.
Carlos drops his head onto your chest dramatically. “Ignore it.”
“It could be important.”
“I am important,” he grumbles, voice muffled against your skin as he sucks one of your nipples into his mouth.
You snort, pushing his head away before reaching over to grab your phone from the nightstand, only for Carlos to groan louder. “C’mon.”
“You’ll live.”
Carlos lazily kisses your shoulder again, completely unbothered as you listen to Lily, until you freeze. His lips pause against your skin, instantly aware of the way your body tenses beneath him.
Your heart is pounding.
Carlos lifts his head, brows furrowing as he watches your eyes dart across the screen.
Then, quietly throws in a,“What’s wrong?”
You swallow hard, blinking at the text message shared with you, lighting up your phone screen.
BREAKING: Alisa speaks out about her relationship with Carlos Sainz.
The world tilts.
Carlos’s jaw clenches. He doesn’t even have to read all of it to know that it’s bullshit, it’s revenge. Revenge for what he did to her but he knows, it’ll hurt you more.
"She gave a statement."
Carlos snatches the phone from your hands, sitting up immediately, he doesn't want you to read this. You watch the way his shoulders lock up, the way his fingers tighten dangerously around the device.
He stares at the screen. Doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe.
And just like that, it’s happening again.
The world, which had just felt steady, just felt right, is crumbling beneath you.
Carlos inhales sharply, shaking his head. "No."
You press a hand to your stomach as you bend over to read the part highlighted, the part making noise, your chest tightening. It was the part you never wanted anyone to know.
No, no, no. Carlos thinks.
It was supposed to be over. It was supposed to be your turn to be happy.
Carlos curses under his breath, throwing the phone onto the bed like it burned him. He rakes a shaky hand through his hair, eyes squeezing shut for a moment before turning to you as you speak.
“Why would she- she… it wasn't a miscarriage-”
You swallow, unable to talk, your fingers fisting the sheets beneath you, your own breathing suddenly uneven.
This isn’t just gossip. It’s your life. This isn’t just drama. It’s your real life.
This is Alisa, with the entire world watching as lies are being spread about your stillborn baby that was ripped from you too soon.
This is your past mistakes, Carlos’s past mistakes, coming back to ruin everything.
Again.
Carlos watches as you struggle to breathe, as your shoulders shake, as your hands tremble against the blankets.
And for the first time in a long time…
You see it in his face.
The same panic you felt when he walked away for that race. The same helplessness he wore when you left.
Like no matter how hard you hold on, the universe is determined to have you fall apart.
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More Posts from Abudhabby29-blog and Others
across the oceans of the earth.
AMGF MASTERLIST VOLUME I.
series masterlist;
death of a bachelor ; f1 dilfs [completed]
waste no time ; lh44 [4/7]
real life relations ; msc47 & ll40 [2/?]
the kids are going to be alright ; f1 dilfs
short fics;
FERNANDO ALONSO ★ 14
please run away
CHARLES LECLERC ★ 16
everyday it rains
smaus;
FERNANDO ALONSO ★ 14
break up with your girlfriend
JENSON BUTTON ★ 22
break up with your girlfriend
curiosity
CARLOS SAINZ ★ 55
summer is for falling in love
situations
stay with you
MAX VERSTAPPEN ★ 1
wrong number
what if we met
chase
call me max verstappen
OSCAR PIASTRI ★ 81
wish you hell
his car isn't yours
better judgement
MEETING SERIES | Sebastian Vettel
f1 masterlist | ask me anything or let's talk! history series (sebastian vettel series saga)
sebastian vettel x toro rosso intern!reader | based on 2008 f1 season
for more information to the reader: ❥ this series is the first volume of history series, that goes through the story of seb and y/n during their 15 years formula 1 journey ❥ i wouldn't say this first part has exactly a defined trope, but it is a slightly friends to lovers and right person, wrong time and love triangle (or even square) ❥ some parts might include sensitive content. pay attention to trigger warnings at the beginning of each part. ❥ english is not my first language so apologies for any mistakes that you can read here! ❥ DRIVER X OC VERSION AVAILABLE ON WATTPAD SOON
started: SEPTEMBER 3RD 2024 currently status: on going | last updated: september 3rd masterlist under the cut !
taglist: [feel free to tell me so you don't miss anything!]
a/n: i don't have enough words to talk about history series... i absolutely love it, and i hope you do as much as i do because I started writing it in the worst moment of my life. these characters and this story is literally a piece of me, of the most intimate one. hope you like this one and remember, feedback and your comments are truly appreciated <3
SEBASTIAN VETTEL HAD BECOME A RISING STAR, AND NO ONE DOUBTED IT. Since he was a child, the young German had wanted to participate in the highest category of motorsport. With a lot of effort not only on his part but also from his parents, and even with the support of his idol, Michael Schumacher, the boy gradually advanced through the different motorsport categories until he finally secured the much-desired position of test driver for BMW Sauber in 2006. A year later, to his surprise, he was not only part of Formula 1 as the third driver of that team, but also replacing Robert Kubica after his catastrophic accident, and signing his first contract as a driver for the Toro Rosso team from July onwards the following year.
Y/N Y/L/N WAS BECOMING INCREASINGLY AWARE THAT HER DREAMS DID NOT SEEM AS ATTAINABLE AS SHE HAD FIRST BELIEVED. The Austrian saw her life change in the blink of an eye following the death of her mother. As if losing someone as important as the woman who gave her life wasn’t enough, the absence of her father, despite still being present, deeply affected her. The girl, responsible for taking care of her two younger sisters and working wherever she had the chance to so she could to keep her family from falling apart, saw the perfect opportunity to join the motorsport world when her university offered her the chance to apply for an internship program that Scuderia Toro Rosso Formula 1 would launch the following year. Fearful of rejection, but knowing she already had a "no" by default, Y/N decided to apply and was quite surprised to be accepted.
However, the fairy tale Y/N believed she would live at the start of March 2008 was not what she had initially thought. Becoming just another member of the team, but constantly being overlooked; wanting to participate in any opportunity given to her, but never receiving one… instead, the opposite simply because she was a woman and a Mechanical Engineering student. The exception to all of this? Sebastian Vettel, who seemed particularly interested in doing everything possible to ensure that girl was not merely a spectator in that circus… even if it meant putting his personal life, and especially his relationship with his girlfriend, at risk.
© VETTELSVEE (2024). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!
MEETING MASTERLIST
01. WELCOME TO TORO ROSSO!: y/n arrives to the formula 1 paddock for the first time in her life after being accepted as an intern in the toro rosso internship program and meet not only one, but two german drivers that have quite particular and different interests in her
02. WE CAN BE FRIENDS: toro rosso hosts a welcome party during the malayan gp. y/n feels so bad for going and, for the first time in less than two week being there, she feels like she doesn't belong there... until seb tries to make her feel like home
03. ARE YOU OK?: after having an incident with seb's race engineer and seb not being able to help, y/n goes on a date with nico rosberg and things turn out to be quite different from what she imagined
04. SO... APRIL 27TH?: once again, seb dnfs during the bahrain gp. however, this helps him to think about how can he surprise his favourite girl on the paddock for her upcoming birthday
05. BIRTHDAY SURPRISES: without having not expectations of having a good birthday, seb ends up making y/n the happiest girl on earth when he gives her the most incredible birthday surprise she could have ever asked for... especially the race being held in cataluña, her second home
06. WHO'S Y/N?: seb is announced as a red bull driver for the upcoming 2009 to surprise of everyone but, to surprise of hanna, she finds out who's y/n... sort of
07. YOU'RE BACK!: after disappearing from the paddock for four months straight, y/n is back, surprising seb but, at the same time, her being disappointed at him
08. ARE YOU SURE, SEBASTIAN VETTEL?: y/n knows she doesn't belong to formula 1 world anymore, but the only thing that keeps her going is seb. seb, however, is in some trouble as he didn't only get the first pole position of his career, but also he's feeling confused about y/n, her friend for six months, and hanna, her girlfriend for two years
09. FIRST VICTORY: not giving a shit about getting in some trouble, y/n decides to step up and ends up acting like a race engineer for seb because after all he tried to do for her, she can't see him losing a race once again
10. THERE'S A REASON WHY YOU LIED: seb is so happy about his first victory, but as soon as hanna asks him who's the girl that's next to him in pictures that were taken that same morning, he knows he's in big trouble for hiding her who really is y/n
11. SORRY: y/n is told that by the end of the season she won't be a part of the toro rosso team anymore. seb, as soon as he finds out, and as a future red bull driver for the upcoming season, sets himself the goal of not letting y/n go in every single aspect of his life
12. GOODBYES ARE BITTERSWEET: last race of the season and, also, last time y/n and seb are seeing each other... for now
13. I WANNA BE THERE, WITH YOU: seb comes back home and, as soon as he sees hanna, he knows that things with her won't be the same anymore
14. SHE DESERVES A CHANCE: seb, trying to make up his mind and not to jump on conclusions, has a meeting with red bull with only one goal for him: make them know that y/n is more than worth enough of being a race engineer intern in their team for the upcoming season
15. YOU'LL FIND ME IN THE STARS: y/n receives the best and worst news ever during christmas, not knowing that she's about to go through the worst time of her life and there's nothing she can do about the damage she's gonna suffer from everyone... including seb
Fic Recs Masterlist
Rec I
Rec II
reckless driver ☆ mv1
genre: photographer!reader, angst, moody!max, yearning, jos hate club
word count: 9.9k
Switching to be Max’s personal photographer wasn’t a planned note on your agenda. Neither was him opening up. A lot of things weren’t, therefore, making his growing crush on you catch him completely off guard.
inspired by reckless driving, lizzy mcalpine !
cherry here!...would it be a regular cherry fic if it didn’t hurt ya just a little bit?
All he knew was how to be perfect.
It has nothing to do with his looks, doesn’t even mean this in a condescending way. The perfect shade of watercolor eyes. The perfect mix of dirty blond hair. The perfect color of pink that taints his lips. The perfect curve of his nose. This had nothing to do with that.
For fucks sakes, Max! Jos grits his teeth tightly, marching closer and closer. The accelerator is there for a reason!
From a very early age, Max’s vocabulary grew an excessive amount, but again, it mainly had to do with how many curse words he could count based on angry verses his dad would often spit at him. By the time he was five, he knew them all, and he knew them by heart. Something inside of him became almost immune to all of that. The hurtful comments, the hatred behind his eyes, the annoyance of not being the best. There was nothing he couldn't handle. And if he remembers well enough, then he can still vividly hear the conversation between his parents.
Just one more, Sophie. Maybe then, if we’re lucky, we’ll have another boy. One that actually has potential.
He swore to be the greatest in that very moment. No matter how much he wanted to give up, he never would. Not when he was constantly put down by his own father, or when the nerves ate him alive, making his skin crawl—no. He wouldn’t give into being a failure. Wouldn’t satisfy them ever.
So, he prayed. He prayed every single night for the new baby on the way to be anything but another boy. Let it be a girl, let it be an alien, let it be anything but a boy. Because even though he was just a kid, he knew that if there was another opportunity for Jos to train another son of his, he’d take it, and Max would be left as some unfinished project.
And lo and behold—it was a girl.
He never really knew true happiness until that very moment. He cried a whole lot when he first held Victoria and everyone thought it was adorable, but no one knew just how much this meant to Max. He would continue to be his father’s main focus, and that’s all that mattered. He would craft himself to be the winner he knew he needed to be in order to get a solid smile from him, even just once. Either way, a few years later his parents wound up getting a divorce, so all was good.
Now, at this very moment—he had finally done it.
Being a World Champion felt the way he knew it would: unreal.
Yes, the fireworks and the cheers were a part of that, but the warm hug from Jos was what really made it all worth it. All the snarky comments, all the panic attacks, all the isolation growing up—it was all worth it.
That’s a good boy! Jos yelled, rustling his sweaty hair before grinning widely. That’s how you do it!
He wishes to remember this moment until the day he dies, and hopefully, if he's lucky enough, a bit after that. Whatever the case might be, he’s content, but now there’s something new.
Higher expectations.
You were born to be the greatest, Max. You were destined to outbeat those who are stupid enough to think they have a chance against you. They don't. No they fucking don’t because you, Max Verstappen, are one hell of a lion. Jos takes a sip of champagne, swallowing harshly and not at all quietly. And you wouldn’t want to fuck that up, now would you?
The answer is no. No way in hell would he let his father’s affection slip away. Not when he’s been dreaming of it for so long. He’s worked—and he’s worked hard—for this. There’s nothing, nor anyone, who would matter as much as Jos Verstappen and being the best driver there could ever be.
But then—just then.
You came along.
-
You should have said no. Looking back at it now, you really should have said no.
And yet. You couldn’t have possibly known that from the very beginning.
Funny enough, you started off as Checo’s photographer. You loved it. He was easy to work with. Not only was he nice to you, but so was his family. The work environment was healthy and fun. Your dream job, really, there was nothing to complain about.
But one by one, from a nearby corner—always a nearby corner—you watched as Max’s photographers rapidly lost their minds and quit. It’d start off with a scowl from him and end with a huff from them, dropping their expensive cameras and leaving without sparing a second glance.
It isn’t until photographer number eight where things really do take an unexpected turn.
For you.
“What do you say?” Christian’s voice booms with need.
You blink hazily. “I-I’m not too sure. I mean, Checo and I work so well together…”
“No, I know what—and trust me, I feel bad for doing this—but we’re really counting on you. You get along with everyone. Everyone loves you! Who’s to say Max won’t?”
“And what if he doesn’t?” you fight back. “Then what? I quit too?”
“First of all, he will. And second of all, that won’t be necessary because he’ll love you.”
“You’re that confident?”
“I am.”
You sigh, rolling your tired neck before looking back at him. “Well, I’m not. I need to think this through.”
The Red Bull principal nods. “Of course! You need time, of course. But please—you’d be helping us all. Especially Max.”
You’d be a liar if you were to say that his words hadn’t stuck with you. What did he mean by ‘especially Max’? Was it to get the wheels spinning? If it was, then it was definitely working.
Adjusting your camera strap that hangs around your neck, you stare off into the distance as if you might find the answer somewhere in between the clouds. And maybe you did find it. The answer, you mean. You were one hundred percent certain now that you wanted to stay with Checo, you just didn’t know how to break the news to Christian who has done so much for you ever since you started working at Red Bull.
“I heard about the offer,” a deep voice rumbles next to you, making you jump with fear, clutching your camera towards your chest like some sort of secret weapon. The Dutchman remains unbothered, taking in the same sunset as you once were. “Christian tends to do that. Put people on the spot. I hate that about him.”
In a way, you’re sort of surprised by him even speaking to you or that he even knows about your existence. Over the past few years, you’ve only interacted with him a couple of times. Once, when he won his first championship. Twice, when he won his second. And thrice, when he won his, well…third. And they were all due to the awkward congratulatory hug you felt yourself forced to give since everyone around you was doing the same.
Other than that, you had no reason to cross paths with him despite working for the same team. You two always stayed on opposite sides of the paddock, but it was never intentional, it was just the way things played out. Until now.
“You really shouldn’t say you hate the man who's making your dreams come true,” you whisper, struggling to find your own voice.
Max hums. “All I said was that I hate that about him, not that I hate him as a person.” A beat. “And for your information, he isn’t the one making my dreams come true—I am.”
“He gave you a chance—”
“A chance he knew someone else would have taken if it weren’t him.” That shuts you right up, silence lingering. Seeing as you both were standing on the terrace overlooking the paddock, you two watched as Christian and Checo converse with one another, hands on their hips like some kind of businessmen. “I worked hard to get to where I am, so please, don’t give him all the credit when we both know that's not true.”
More silence. “Listen, I think I’m going to—”
“Turn him down and continue working with Checo?”
Your voice catches. “W-what?”
The Dutchman clicks his tongue, like he’s got you all figured out. Three conversations over the past three years and he thinks he has you all figured out?
“I can’t say I blame you. You don’t think we’ll work well together, and quite frankly, I would agree. We wouldn’t. You’re too…nice.”
You have to laugh. “Is that supposed to be an insult?”
“It’s supposed to be the truth,” he’s ricochets.
Turning towards his tall frame, you huff, hair washing over your face before faking a tight smile. “And you’re too…complicated.” Something about the way his gaze darkens at your words makes you want to back down like some shivering dog, but miraculously, you remain still. “And that’s not a compliment.”
“Didn’t sound like one.”
“Well because it’s not.”
He’s not too far from you, and honest to God, that made you shake more than you intended. There was something about him—there always was. Even though you never really worked close to him, you knew there was something there, hiding between the crease of his brows, and now, standing this close to him, you can see it all in a new perspective.
Max releases a breath, bored and unexplainable. Runs a hand through his hair, turns his face for a second before connecting his gaze back to yours. “Look, you appear to be a sweet girl, but…I think you should turn down Christian’s offer.”
“Why?” He’s taken aback. You catch it the moment his lips twitch in the slightest. You tilt your head, urging him to answer. “You must have a reason, so what is it?”
“You’d hate working with me.”
“And you get to decide that?”
Max rolls his eyes. “Have you enjoyed this conversation so far?”
“No.”
“Then you probably wouldn’t enjoy our time either. And I’d just rather not waste my time on you finding out. No offense.”
“No, no, none taken,” you respond sarcastically. By now, Christian and Checo have spotted you both, secretly hoping there was some sort of friendship forming. They wave cheerfully and you mimic their movements.
“I hope we get along—I really do,” you say with a smile as you wave enthusiastically over at Christian who lets out a whistle and sends you an excited thumbs up.
His jaw clenches.
“If not, you’re really going to hate having me around.”
-
By now, you’ve completely understood why every other person has quit on him.
Your blood boils deep inside your veins for the millionth time in the past hour. His large hand covers his face as he continues speaking with his engineers. They all look back at you, half-amused, half-pitiful. They grimace when you try once again to get a picture of him, only to get shut down by him spinning around to make you face his back.
“Unbelievable,” you mutter beneath your hot breath, glaring harshly to the point you feel a migraine growing, pounding the sides of your head. Marching off, you cross over to Checo’s side of the garage, watching as he discusses his strategies with a couple of his crew members. “Hey.”
“Hey,” he responds, flashing a bright smile. “What are you doing here?”
“Pleading for you to take me back?” He laughs, eyes crinkling, freckled nose scrunching with humor. “It feels like I’ve signed my life away.”
“Ah. Come on. It can’t be that bad. Give him some time.”
“It’s been a month!” you exclaim. “What more does he need?”
The Mexican driver’s eyes soften, feeling bad for the swap neither of you wanted, but knew was necessary. Checo knows how patient you can be, how sweet and caring you tend to act towards those you truly care about. And right now? He worries you won’t ever reach that point with Max.
A heavy sigh. “Max isn’t much of a talker, you know that. But maybe—in order for him to get comfortable around you, he needs you to do something that the other photographers didn’t bother doing.”
Your stomach churns. “Like what?”
He smiles warmly. “Getting to know him.”
Maybe Checo was right. Maybe all Max needed was a friend—someone to talk to.
Sliding back to your side of the garage, you sheepishly walk over to the grumpy Dutchman. Currently, he’s sitting down on the floor, back pressed against the wall, scrolling through his phone. “C-c-can I talk to you?” you ask, nervous fingers lacing through the hoop of your jeans.
He doesn’t bother raising his gaze. “Can you even talk to begin with?”
“S-sorry?”
This time, he does look up, looking past his lashes. “Your stutter.”
Lamely, your mouth opens, only for you to find it drier than the Sahara Desert. The crack of your voice is a clear indication over your weak attempt to speak and that just makes you a blushing mess. Fuck him. You took several speech therapy classes to try and get rid of it, but him pointing out a stutter you thought has gotten better over time makes you want to be photographer number nine.
You glare—hard. You mentally go over your dialogue and that itself makes you feel small. Embarrassed. So, instead…you don’t say anything at all.
There’s a reason no one likes to work with him.
And you think you just found out.
-
Some days are easier than others. Some days are harder.
Today?
Today was awful.
“Jesus Christ, Max! What the fuck was that?” Jos yells, nearly pressing his face against the Red Bull driver who stands close by, watching him flinch in the slightest before regaining composure. You’ve heard rumors—plenty of them. Between mechanics, between Checo and a few other bystanders, you heard them all. How Jos’ behavior was unbearable to deal with, especially when it came to him and Max. You just never thought you’d witness it firsthand.
“My brakes weren’t working,” he replies, holding eye contact that would have left you in a coma. “It was never my intention to crash.”
“See, you say that, and yet everytime I come and visit, you always seem to be messing up one way or another,” Jos hisses, face beet red, and a splash of saliva spraying over Max as he grits his teeth, taking a step back. “I’m confused—do you want to lose the Championship this year or what?”
“No,” the Red Bull driver fires back, firm and quick. Blue eyes translate to a darker shade as they look to where his dad wears a mocking smile. “I’m winning that title, don’t worry.”
Running a hand against his stubble, Jos rolls his eyes before releasing a tired breath. As if he’s the one working endless hours. As if he’s the one who just crashed against the wall at a terrifying speed he couldn’t decrease even if he tried. As if he’s the one with the bruised temple.
Everything was just always about him.
“Don’t bother resting until you figure out how to fix all the shit you’ve caused.” Sharp eyes narrow. “Got it?”
“Got it,” Max whispers, watching as he storms off without even saying goodbye to anyone else that wasn’t Christian himself. So much for having him around. Frustrated, he angrily yanks his gloves off, throwing them against the wall and walking the opposite direction.
Something tells you to leave him alone—let him be. You get why he’s upset, but you checking up on him probably wouldn't help. Also, you're supposed to be mad at him, right?
And yet.
“Wait up!” you gasp, out of breath.
Clenching his jaw, he stops dead in his tracks, turning to look at you with accusing eyes. “Why are you following me?”
“I just…” Coming to a stop as well, you wince at your sudden side stitch. “He shouldn’t have yelled at you that way,” you finish, analyzing the way his body stiffens. “Especially in front of everyone.”
Blue orbs flicker past your figure for a second, then he lets out a lopsided smile. “I bet you enjoyed it, though. You know? Because I’ve sort of been acting like a dick towards you…” The small smile disappears, replaced with a thin line.
“I didn’t,” you find yourself admitting. His brows raise up with surprise, and even you’re surprised to be telling the truth. You should feel good about this moment—someone finally told him off, someone finally put him in his place. But you felt none of that satisfaction. If anything, you felt bad. Swiping your tongue against your lips, you purse them awkwardly. “And you haven’t been a dick. He has.”
And for the first time—he laughs.
You blink, bewildered at the sound, but he doesn’t seem to notice that. “Like father, like son, right?” he jokes, making you feel like this was all some sort of fever dream. He continues, squatting down against the wall until he sits down completely against the cold pavement. “Your perspective about me has suddenly changed, or what?”
Hesitant, you choose to sit across from him, tucking your legs beneath your butt. His eyes close, smiling softly. Though I doubt it, he mumbles. “I just think I had you all wrong, that’s all.”
“Yeah?” he encourages. “Why?”
You swallow. “Well…because—now it all makes sense. Why you’re so cold towards everyone, I mean. You do get it from your dad, but it’s also not your fault.”
“My dads not the problem,” he hums. “I am.” Your legs are slowly becoming numb, buzzing like a thousand ants are crawling on them, but you don’t dare move an inch, scared of ruining the moment of him being so honest despite being allergic to it. “I let him down constantly and he’s just being…candid.” His eyes open, focused like he’s known you’ve been here all along, sitting across from him. “The issue here is that no one seems to get that. And that’s fine, but I do.”
“C-c-can I…” you cringe at the sound of your stutter, biting harshly down against your sore tongue. You expect him to laugh—make fun of you in any way possible—hold it over your head…but he doesn’t. Instead, he waits patiently for you to feel comfortable enough to continue your question. Your chest loosens up, along with your anxiety. You never thought he’d help with that. “C-can I ask you a q-q-que—”
“A question?” he finishes your sentence, you feeling immensely grateful. You nod. “Sure,” he answers.
Repeating the question over a couple of times, you find yourself feeling more and more comfortable around him and it’s only been a couple of minutes. “Why do you belittle me?”
There’s no way of hiding his shame now as his head hangs low, dirty blond hair hugging the sides of his face with a thin layer of sweat, a purple bruise forming due to his crash of high impact. A tsk. “I want you to know that I don’t hate you. Regardless of what you might think.”
You nod, paying close attention.
He shrugs. “But I just don’t think we’ll work well together.”
“That’s it?” you ponder, genuinely lost. “You haven’t-t-t even given me a chance to prove myself. Maybe we can?” A beat. “Or maybe you’re not telling the w-whole truth.”
A playful scoff erupts from this throat, ignoring your comment. “You’re right. I haven’t given this a fair shot.” A calm look paints his normally stoic features. “And it doesn’t seem like you’ll be quitting anytime soon.” Reaching out to swat his race boot, you smile, eyes crinkling. The Dutchman chuckles. “So maybe we should start getting along, no?”
“I agree,” you comment, straightening your shoulders and extending your legs, instantly feeling a wave of relief from the pressure. “I-I-I’d like t-that.” Pause. Your smile stretches. “I’d like that very much.”
What you know now is obviously something you didn’t know back then.
So realistically, you fell into a friendship that ended like most.
Complete, utter disaster.
-
As time went on, Max started to change for the better. His glares turned into soft smiles, his monotone voice turned into something that was more untroubled. He was starting to become someone you consider a friend, and you couldn't help but wish he felt the same way too.
“Come out and have a drink with us,” you say, carefully cleaning your lens with the back of your shirt. He looks up from where he packs his things into a small duffel bag. You nod enthusiastically. “Come on, it’s my birthday and I want you there. Celebrate my birth, celebrate your win—it’ll be fun.”
“I don’t like to party,” he confesses, scrunching his nose like the thought alone makes him want to puke. “Never have, never will. Happy birthday, though.”
“You’re no fun,” you mumble, placing your camera back into your own bag. “I wish you’d be more fun.” A beat. “Wait. What do you do for fun?”
“I don’t have any. I just…live a quiet, peaceful life whenever I’m able to.” He throws his bag over his broad shoulder. “I like it better that way, anyways.” With that, he walks out of his driver's room.
Gathering the rest of your things quickly, you chase after him, struggling to keep up with his long strides. “It’s okay to have a quiet life if that’s something you want, but, I don’t know…” You turn the corner, soft hair whiplashing. “Aren’t you able to…well, put that aside for special occasions?”
“Like what? Your birthday?”
You blush heavily. “Well—no. But maybe yours? I know it’s coming up. What are you gonna do then? Stay home working on a crossword puzzle?”
“Not necessarily. Perhaps I’ll read a book, who knows.” Still walking towards his car, he momentarily turns back to look at you, watching as your cheeks glow bright pink. He smiles before turning back. “I’ll make sure to let you know.” Unlocking his car, he raises a brow. “You coming?”
“Can’t,” you pant softly. “Promised Checo that I’d help him find a gift for Carlota.”
“His daughter or his wife?”
Seeing as they share the same name, you can’t help but giggle. “I’m actually not sure.” Flashing one last smile, you wave sweetly. “I’ll make sure to let you know!”
He keeps his eyes on you, watching as you jog towards Checo who laughs as you trip over a nearby rock, nearly falling. Max laughs to himself, feeling an unfamiliar burst of happiness. But that all flies right out the window as soon as his phone buzzes deep inside his pocket, making him groan.
“Hey, Dad.”
-
He ends up texting for your birthday and you end up doing the same. You end up going out to party and he ends up staying home. Point is, you do exactly what you two said you were going to do, so when a last minute texts comes through at midnight, you’re low key appalled.
Max, 12:00pm
Are you home?
He knows where you live because you once told him. You’re just surprised he remembers.
Yeah? Where are you?
Max, 12:04pm
Come outside. Bring a sweater.
The ocean roars loudly as you two make your way closer towards the shore. The breeze is ice cold, but you aren’t complaining. He is, though.
“Shit. It’s freezing.”
A giggle. “Need a jacket, princess?”
Sending a deadpan expression, he shrugs you off, choosing to sit close enough to see the waves, but far enough to not get wet. “I don’t want you to make a big deal out of this, but…I got you something.”
“Max,” you coo, admiring the film camera he hands you as if it’s nothing. But it’s not nothing because when it comes to him it means everything. “This must’ve cost you a fortune,” you whisper, fingers tracing the rim of the black camera that shines against the moonlight. “You shouldn’t have.”
“And you shouldn’t have stuck around. But you did. So…thank you.” The tides grow louder, making him do the same. “I never really said it, but I’m grateful for having you as a friend.”
You freeze and he seems to notice what he said, too.
“Co-worker?” he tries, cringing.
You relax. “F-f-friend sounds better.”
And there it is again, that warmness that only seems to appear whenever you’re around. It should be alarming, but at this point it's not. If anything, it’s normal.
“Now I feel like shit,” you speak up, bumping your leg against his. He hums. “I didn’t get you anything for your birthday. And if you know anything about friendships, then you’d know that presents are a vital thing.”
“Don’t fret. I don’t need anything else other than…” he trails off. “How was your birthday, anyways?”
You don’t notice his sudden shift. Or maybe you did. Either way, he doesn’t know. You snort. “Got shit-faced, what else do you expect? Though, I faintly remember Abby kissing the bartender, so that was cool.” When he fails to recognize the name, you roll your eyes as if you’re dealing with a third grader. “Checo’s photographer? She’s awesome. Has her own car.”
It’s his turn to laugh now. “And you don’t?”
“Nope. But God, I wish. Maybe one day.” You dig your feet deeper into the sand, twisting your lips before smacking them as if that might help hydrate them. You squint an eye. “I’m barely home, so there’s really no need for one yet. I can sense you wondering.”
“I was,” he admits. Swallowing, he mimes your movements. “I’m barely home, either.”
“Do you miss it?”
“Do you?” he returns with no response.
You ponder. “I know I miss my parents. My sister. But other than that, no—maybe not.”
“I don’t either.”
“But I thought you were a homebody?” you accuse.
“Well, I am, but…I miss my home. The place I paid for with my own money.”
“What home don’t you miss, then?”
“The one my parents tried to convince me and my sister that it was. We had all the family portraits and the typical white picket fence, but it just never felt like home to me. And I don’t miss that.”
“Oh.” Just oh.
“Yeah,” he follows with a raspy voice. “Oh.”
Tugging the jacket closer to your chest, you shiver. Surely your nose is burning bright pink and your lips are chapped, but nothing felt better than this moment for some reason. “I don’t like your dad,” you mumble beneath your breath, hoping the wind would hide your confession, but if it didn’t, you wouldn’t care.
It didn’t.
Scoffing, Max nods. “Yeah. Me neither.”
“I don’t like the way he speaks to you. It’s not—normal.” A beat. “Do you think it is?”
“I do,” he hums, blinking slowly as he watches the way a bird gets caught in the wind, trying to lurch forward but only getting sent back. “You get used to it.”
“You shouldn't have to,” you whisper, brows pinched up with concern. “I know I said you were a complicated person, but you’re not. And—and I just don’t want you to think that it’s true.”
He’s the first to disconnect his eyes from yours, feeling a burning sensation forming in the depths of his throat. It’s not completely unknown, he’s felt it many times when he was a kid. The only difference was that he used to feel it behind his eyes as well. Which is why it catches him off guard this time around—years later.
“You’re not like him, Max,” you say with reassurance. Blue eyes soften up, feeling a rush of emotions. This is something he didn’t even know he needed. Tilting his head, he opens his mouth lamely, words getting stuck like a boy and not a man. You smile tenderly. “And I hope you know that.”
He drives you back home that night despite saying you’d be fine walking back. You fall asleep for the next thirty-minutes, and he overthinks through all of it. Fingers tap against the steering wheel, taking occasional glances to where you breath softly.
“I told you to bring a sweater,” Max groans once you enter his car. “You’re going to freeze to death.”
You wave him off. “I think I’ll survive.”
As soon as you arrive at the beach, you’re quick to rub your hands against your skin, wishing to have some sort of blanket. With a knowing look, the Dutchman rolls his eyes, slipping off his jacket and placing it over your shoulders.
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Thanks,” you say, biting the inside of your cheek, suppressing a smile.
Hearing his teeth chatter, he blows his cheeks out, squinting his eyes when a particular gust of wind slaps him across the face. “Shit. It’s freezing.”
“Need a jacket, princess?” you tease, enjoying the way his lips form a snarl.
You giggle.
It’s his favorite jacket, the one you’re wearing.
It’s his favorite because of that.
“I’m fucked,” he whisphers to himself, grinding his teeth until he feels them squeak. He tries to focus on the road, but that seems to be the most difficult task in the world when he has you right besides him. And he isn’t thinking anything sinisterly dirty—he’s not—but instead, he’s dreaming.
I can be different, he thinks to himself, repeating the same words over and over. I can be someone she likes. If I try hard enough, I can do that. Planning ahead was always something he hated, but just thinking about it now makes his veins rush with excitement. As if the possibility of you might exist somewhere down the line.
You said some things he never thought he’d hear, because to be quite honest, he never thought someone would understand him the way you have. For the longest time, he thought a fucked up person like him could only get with an equally fucked up person or simply he’d have to live by himself for the rest of his life.
And here you came, proving him wrong.
He doesn’t realize how fast he’s going, how he’s pressing hard on the gas. Not until you groan. “Fuck. Are you alright?” he asks with concern as soon as he hears your head thud against the window from his jerky turn at the roundabout.
“Yeah.” A beat, then a giggle. You rub your head. “This is gonna bruise.” He winces, taking a glance. Keep your eyes on the road, you laugh, but he can’t. Not when your eyes crinkle the way they do. Like your eyes have a dimple of their own. He’s never seen that on anyone else. “We’ll be twins,” you state as some sort of lame joke. And it does the job because he’s quick to let out a chuckle.
“Sorry,” he apologizes.
“Don’t worry about it.”
Pulling up to your house, you go in to unbuckle yourself before slipping the jacket off. He shakes his head. “Keep it.”
“That wouldn’t make any sense,” you try. “I’m already home, I’ll be fine. Put it on.”
“Well I’m not cold anymore,” he pushes back. “It’s fine, really. I have plenty—what’s one missing?”
“It's freakishly soft,” you debate, furrowing your brows with concentration. “Okay. Thanks, Max.” Grabbing your film camera, you let out a shy smile. “For this too. Just—for these past few hours. I had fun.”
“Yeah,” he hums gingerly, running his hand along the steering wheel. “So did I.”
This grabs your attention, ears perking up like some German Shepard. “Am I dreaming? Did Max Verstappen just say he had fun? With me?” you interrogate, eyes shining.
He groaned, tossing his head against his seat. “I take it back—”
“You can’t do that—”
“I take it back,” he repeats firmly, but the amusement poured into his accent tells you otherwise. “Now get out of my car.”
You poke your tongue out at him before raising your hands up defensively. “Drive safe,” you shout over your shoulder as you walk towards your house, backward. “Oh! I almost forgot to ask!” Rushing to his side of the car, you signal for him to roll his window. He does, quirking a brow. You grin. “Let me take you out.”
His heart thuds. Pulses. Skyrockets.
It’s a scary feeling.
You beam. “Yes! As your birthday present! Let me take you out. Just you and I.”
“You and I?” he repeats robotically, blinking with round eyes.
A nod. “Yeah. Just like today. You took me out and gave me an amazing gift. Let me do the same for you.” Pause. “Please?”
It dawns on him that this is the first time a girl has asked him to hang out. Whether it’s romantic or not, it doesn’t matter, and the way you bat your cartoon eyes makes him spiral, feeling his breath hitch. “Y-y-yeah,” he finds himself saying. “Sure. Why not?”
“You only turn twenty-seven once,” you hum. Like that might seal the deal besides the fact that he’s already accepted.
The Dutchman chuckles nervously, fighting the urge to just…God.
“You only turn twenty-seven once,” he agrees, sharing a tight smile, hands gripping the leather wheel.
-
Your plans end up getting pushed back due to your guys’ tight agenda. The season is tough on not just him, but the entire team. McLaren is thriving, sometimes more than Red Bull, and that has everyone feeling on edge.
Chewing your nails, you watch as Lando crosses the finish line, nearly a minute ahead from the Dutchman. You know he’s not going to want to talk about it, but he will. He has to.
Because Jos is here.
“You’re getting quite comfortable on that second step,” Jos says tauntingly. He’s not yelling—not like the other times—and somehow, that just makes him scarier.
“I’m not,” Max defends as he rubs a sweaty hand against his face. His hair is longer than usual, so that doesn’t help the awkwardness he feels when he has to push it back. “We still did good—”
“Good is not good enough,” he hisses, pressing a finger against his son's suit, making him take a step back before he regains composure. “Unless it is. For you, I mean.” Silence. “So what? Is it?”
“No,” Max mumbles, fighting the urge to push him back. He’s thought about it—many times. And maybe he’s reached his limit, and maybe he can do it…
But he’d never dare to in front of you.
Blue eyes quietly plead for you to leave. And yes. That would be the wisest thing to do right about now, but your feet betray you. They’re super glued, you begin to suspect. Why else would you not be able to move?
“You used to be so good,” Jos points out, eyes only getting sharper. “What happened? What’s distracting you? Who’s distracting you?”
Max’s eyes flicker for a second—just a fucking second—to where you stand, paralyzed, and he prays he doesn’t notice it. But he does.
Turning to face your small figure, Jos lets out a shallow laugh, a confused expression mapping his wrinkled face. “Are you serious?”
“I—” Max tries, but is waved off by his massive hand.
“A crush isn’t going to get you anywhere, Max, come on, you know this.” Jos rubs his eyes, aging quickly. “Especially with a girl like her.”
“I-I-I,” you stutter, feeling your face grow red. Swiftly, this makes you feel as dumb as when you first met Max, but somehow worse.
A million times worse.
“Y-y-you what?” Jos mocks your stutter, walking closer to where you stand. “You what?”
“H-h-he doesn't like me. So, there’s no need to…w-w-w—”
“Worry,” Max fills in, marching to stand in between you two, and you immediately feel your shoulders relax, but your breath continues to struggle to find its way out of your system. “There’s no need to worry. I just had a bad race, it happens. It’s no one’s fault.”
“Except it is!” Jos finally screams, spraying his saliva with every punctuation, something you’ve come to realize happens when he gets fired up, which nearly occurs every time he's here. The only difference is that this time, you’re caught in between the argument. Jos breathes heavily, chest puffing. “It's someone's fault, and I’ll lay it out for you since you can’t seem to take responsibility—it’s your fault.”
“No, it’s not,” you protest from behind Max, feeling courage quickly expand through your ribs because you knew that wasn’t true. “It’s no one’s fault.”
But someone like you is invisible to someone like Jos Verstappen.
Ignoring you, he gets rid of that last step that separates Max from himself, faces inches apart from one another. And it’s terrifying how similar they are. Their eyes, their nose, their lips. The only thing separating them from being twins was Max’ kindness.
“Say it’s your fault,” Jos orders with a solid and demanding tone. “Say the crash was your fault and that you fucked up.”
You’re breath catches once again, frantic eyes darting to where Max clenches his fists before letting them relax.
“The crash was my fault—”
“It's all your fault,” Jos adds.
The Red Bull drivers lips twitch. “The crash was all my fault…” A beat. “And I fucked up.”
“Max,” you whisper, gingerly grabbing his hand. He flinches at your touch and pulls away as soon as his dads eyes linger down to where you two connect. You wither.
“Get your act together,” Jos threatens with fury before walking out, slamming the door behind him.
You jump at the unexpected sound. No one speaks, no one moves, no one dares to acknowledge what just happened.
Max Verstappen lands second on this week's podium, Crofty announces, pulling you away from the daze you were stuck in. Max’s gaze switches over to the T.V. as he stiffens. Say, what are the chances he wins this year's Championship against Lando Norris who seems to be having the time of his life in that McLaren?
“You did good out there—”
“No. I didn’t.” He looks away. “But that won’t matter because that Championship is mine.”
Mine.
-
You notice he’s reverted back to his old habits the moment he gets snappy. The moment he starts blocking everyone out, including you. You sort of saw it coming, but still—it hurt. And it took you a moment to realize, realize why it burned so much.
You loved Max Verstappen.
He’d always been unapproachable. Spine-chilling, even. But ever since you two started talking to each other as more than strangers, you realize he was none of that. He had once been kind, once been sweet, but this was all Jos’ fault. Weeks went by—months, even—and all you ever really did was snap pictures of him on the stimulator. That’s it.
It’s as if your friendship never even existed.
It came as no surprise when he failed to pick up your phone calls and texts. He was awfully good at doing that. By the time you were a month away from the Championship, you had stopped trying.
Max can feel the awkward tension he had created. It sat there between you two every time you followed after him like a dog on a leash, timidly taking his picture, afraid of getting the wrong reaction out of him. It had happened a couple of times in the past, when you first started working for him, so it seemed you were trying to prevent history from repeating itself. The slight sting in his chest took a jab at him every time without fail.
Vegas was typically a good time for both the drivers and people like you. You’d be the first to admit how easy it is to get lost in the gist of it all.
Except this time around, it was hard to live through it.
-
Hey. You home?
Max groans, rubbing his eyes until they’re wide awake, picking up his phone.
Max, 12:00pm
Are you okay?
A minute scrolls by.
I have your present.
The first thing he notices is his jacket. His initials are sewn onto the sleeve. He didn’t even know that was a thing, but the sight of it made his stomach flip. “Looks good on you,” he compliments as soon as he enters your car. You chuckle.
It’s a nice jacket. The best one I own.
He notes how smooth you drive, like a grandma. You’re precise with your turns, ahead with your signals—extremely observant.
“See how I steer the wheel,” you speak up, wiggling a neat brow. “Unlike you.”
“I said I was sorry,” he laughs, getting a reminder of the last time you two were together. “How’s the bruise?”
“Nearly gone.” A beat. “How’s yours?”
He smiles, remembering about his own. “Nearly gone.”
“Told you we’d be twins.”
You take him to a nearby park. It’s lame, I know, you apologize, wincing shyly. I’m not good at this, but I hope your present makes up for it.
“This is great,” he eases your nerves, seeing how they scribble across your face. “This is my first time at a playground, actually.”
Your eyes widen as soon as you sit down on the yellow swing. “You’re kidding, right?”
He shakes his head. “Nope.”
“Huh.”
He takes a seat on a nearby swing, following your soft kicks against the sand. “My dad preferred to have me on the race track than waste my time on anything else.”
This gets an eye roll out of you, soft wind fanning your face as you kick back and forth. “That explains it all.” He shuts his eyes momentarily, enjoying the silence. Far enough away, he can hear the city—but that’s the least of his worries.
You’re the first and only one to give me a childhood so late in life. Round eyes flicker towards him where he digs his shoes into the sand, not worried about the uncomfort it'll cause. If it weren’t for you, I probably would’ve gone my whole life without knowing what a playground is like.
The thought alone is saddening. Your mind makes up an image of young Max, looking into the distance at every other kid who runs towards slides and monkey bars as he straps his helmet and slips on his gloves, longing to know what it’s like to have a normal youth.
“Don’t feel bad.”
Your lip wobbles. “Don’t make me feel things, then. Why would you say that?”
“I thought we could open up to one another,” he jokes, but you can hear his seriousness in it. That’s all he’s needed, after all—someone to talk to. “Should I shut up from here on out?”
“No,” you reply rapidly, gripping your hand around the metal chain. “Don’t you ever shut up.”
His smile relaxes, eyes opening as he tilts his head, then looks up ahead at the moon. And it’s one of those nights where it’s scarily white—almost too much. One might think it’s a flashlight, by the way it shines, but there’s a clarity to it that makes it easy to admire. “I don’t think I love my dad.”
You try not to let out a reaction. “You don’t mean that.”
“No…” He clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth. “I think I do.” A shrug. “I respect him. A tiny bit, but I do. But love?” A bitter scoff. “God, I don’t even think he loves me.”
“Sure he does—”
“He loves my success,” he cuts you off. “And it’s embarrassing how everybody knows it.”
Neither of you are swinging anymore. Gathering your thoughts, you look down at your lap, inspecting your dirty shoes. “If it helps, I love you, Max.” In a heartbeat, his blue eyes dart towards you, seeing the way you breathe evenly. “Is that surprising to you?” He doesn’t answer. He couldn't answer. And boy did he want to. Smiling tenderly, you nod. “It’s not that hard, really.” You begin to swing again, as if you didn’t just drop the biggest bomb on him that left his heart in his throat, beating at an abnormal speed. “Not when you’re so patient with me.”
The chain squeaks, making him snap out of his daze, blinking harshly. “I hate my stutter. I’ve had it tugging at my leg since I was eight. Don’t know what caused it, but it’s been there, trust me. So, when you made fun of it a while back, I thought to myself: this guy is a real douchebag.”
Shame pours within him as he recalls that interaction. Checo had told him about his photographer's stutter and how hard it was to hold a conversation with her at first, but the longer they worked together, the more he found it endearing. And that’s exactly what Max felt the moment you became his photographer at a stage in his life where he still didn’t know you all that well other than the fact that you carried your camera like a newborn baby.
“I’m so—”
“Don’t be,” you cut him off. “I don’t hold grudges. Plus, you’re quite helpful now that you’re used to my stammering, don’t you think?”
Guilt fuels him as he apologizes with his eyes. “I shouldn’t have mocked you. Ever.”
“Probably.” A hum. “But the way you read my mind makes up for it.”
He’s been doing a lot of that, without even realizing it. He concludes your sentences without batting an eye about the words you’re trying to get out, trying to express. And in all fairness, you hadn’t noticed it either, not until Checo pointed it out.
That’s how normal it had become.
“My stutter was my number one insecurity growing up.” Connecting your gaze back to where he’s already looking, you draw your eyebrows in with gentleness. “And you made it go away.”
Before he can think his words through, he opens his mouth. “I love your stutter.”
You blink, bewildered at the comment. Then—you laugh.
“Thanks?” Your volume increases. “Never heard that one before.”
Screwing his eyes shut, he shakes his head, grimacing at the sound of his voice replaying inside his crowded mind.
“What I’m trying to say is that I love you,” he rambles, much faster and correctly this time, making you stop your laughter, eyes going wide once again. “Is that surprising to you?” he whispers, awaiting a response with anxiety dripping from his fingertips that clench around the chain that loops around the swing, giving it security.
“You mean as friends, right?” you ask carefully, making his stomach drop.
“I don’t think friends think about each other the way I think about you,” he confesses, out of breath by the sudden shift he’s caused. “I see you differently.”
As soon as your lips part to say something, he pleads silently as if saying: please, just hear me out. And that’s exactly what you do.
He’s standing right in front of you now, pacing back and forth like some football coach as you watch him like a clueless cheerleader who sits on the sidelines. He clears his throat after a lengthy minute.
“I noticed you first when you walked into your interview four years ago.”
Your mind races back to a moment in time where your camera was significantly cheaper and your dreams were larger than life.
He nods, watching as you recollect the memories that were tucked in the far back of your brain, like it didn’t matter for the longest time, which to be fair, it hadn’t.
“You were supposed to be my photographer.”
Your brows furrow, completely lost by his words. “What?”
His large hands run through his shaggy hair from his slumber that you had ripped him away from. “From the very beginning, it was supposed to be you and me. But…”
Neat brows narrow down harder. “But what?”
Max stops his pace, killing his tracks that lands him right in front of you looking up at him with innocent eyes. He sighs. “I said I didn’t want you working with me.”
“Oh.” A beat. “It’s always been this way, then? You not wanting me near you?”
“For a while,” he says quickly before cringing. “But now that we’ve worked together, I realize the mistake I made. How many years it could’ve been us…”
“What’s the real reason?”
Flinching, he squirms under your focus. “What?”
You nod, encouraging him. “You always said it was because you didn’t think we would work well together, and look at us now—we have.” Leaves rustle from the dozen of trees that wrap around the park. “What was the actual reason?”
He’s known the answer to this question from the moment you joined the team, more specifically, Checo’s. He knew the answer to the question the moment he crossed that finish line, claiming his first Championship like the greedy man he was carved out to be by his own father.
He’s just not sure how you’d take it. Coughing awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck, he avoids eye contact. “I knew you’d distract me.”
Your stomach twists like a licorice. “Oh God—have I?”
“No!” he yelps, but the defense he guards up like a soldier lets you know that that’s nowhere close to being true. You shrink, increasing the distance between you two. His palms begin to sweat. “You haven’t—”
“Your dad was right,” you whisper. “I have been a distraction to you. That’s why you’ve been having such a weird season compared to the previous ones…”
“No,” he presses firmly. “The car has changed, that’s why I’ve been driving differently, it has nothing to do with you.”
But you don’t seem to engage with his words, instead, you shake your head like an angry child who never gets their way at the candy store. “How can you love me when I’m the reason your dad puts you down every chance he gets?”
It’s like you forced your fingers in at an open wound, one he tends to forget is there when he’s with you, but when you mention it's existence, he remembers why he dreads it so much.
“He talks to me like that because he’s a shitty dad, not because of you,” he says, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. “I liked you the second year I won my Championship. The first time you said my name.”
“Congrats, Max,” you say with an awkward smile after you pull away from an even more awkward hug. “You did good.”
“I was infatuated by you the third year I won my Championship.”
“You can’t keep firing your photographers,” Christian lectured him with a tired voice, making his accent sound ten times stronger. “Especially when we don’t even have their replacement.”
“I haven’t found one I like,” he says as he watches you walk by, heading towards Checo with a bright smile, bragging about a recent setting that puts your old photos to shame. He looks away when you turn towards his garage, as if you felt his eyes on you. “It’s not my fault.”
“No, young man, it is,” the team principal presses, letting out a tired sigh. “You need to mature with the idea of having one, if not—”
“If not what?”
“If not…uh…we’ll…” Christian looks around for a while before turning back to the Dutchman. “We’ll have to take a different approach.”
“Yeah?” Max questions with amusement. “Which is?”
Christian shrugs. “Swapping Checo’s photographer with yours.”
This makes the Dutch physically recoil. “I’ve told you a thousand times already—it would never work out. She’s too…happy all the time.”
“And maybe that’s exactly what you need.”
Max lets out a shaky breath, watching your chest rise and fall as if you find it harder to breathe with every passing second.
“And I haven’t won my fourth,” he begins with a light smile and an even lighter tone. “But I already know that I love you.”
This is it. The last smile of his. Of that soft dimple of his that caught you by surprise the first time you saw it. It's the last time because you know that whatever happens after is going to ruin it all.
“I love you—”
“I don’t.”
His lips run dry, forcing a small chuckle like he didn’t hear you right. “I’m—I’m.” He smiles hesitantly. “B-but you said…” No more wind circles around you. “You said it.”
“I know.” You wince, brushing your hair back, annoyed with it by now. “I know I did, but…Max. I didn’t mean it in that way.”
The blue eyed Dutch takes a step backward, noting the uncomfortableness the sand is causing his feet to feel now that the adrenaline is gone. “What do you mean?” he murmurs with embarrassment. “What do you mean?”
Licking your lips, you focus on a tree that stands behind him, how fucked up looking it was. As if someone stabbed it over and over again until it bled wood chips.
“I do love you—but as a friend.”
“Why, though?”
“Friendships last longer,” you respond, like you’ve had the answer sitting on the tip of your tongue for the longest time now. “Relationships don’t.”
“Ours could,” he tries, feeling pathetic. “I’m good at everything. I bet I’ll be good at a relationship, too.”
“A relationship is not a game, Max,” you argue, your voice slightly raising, making him clench his jaw. “And I’m sure you think it is because you're such a perfectionist, but it’s not that easy. There’s a lot of dedication that goes into it.”
“Then I’ll be dedicated to you,” he says. “Heart, body, and soul. I swear. Just—give me a chance.”
“I can’t…”
“But why not?”
“Because all I see is a friend!” you shout, regretting it instantly. His skin loses its natural color, switching to a ghostlike state. His pink lips snap shut like a bear trap. And his furrowed brows revert back to their usual place. Nibbling on your bottom lip, you massage your temples that suddenly feel painful.
“We’re so different from one another, Max. Your life is written down, from birth to death. And you know you’ll live a good one. And mine—mine is constantly changing. I mean, look at it. A few months ago I was working with your teammate and now…”
He remains silent, patiently watching your lips move with every word that pinches his feelings like the biggest bully. “The love I hold for you is there…but not the same way yours is there for me. Your life moves fast, and I’m barely even able to keep up with a conversation with this fucking stutter that appears most times with others, but very few with you.”
Still nothing. Just his eyes focused on this jacket now, like he's already reclaiming it. “And I really do thank you for that, I do. But I thank you the most for letting me get to know you for who you really are. Not who you pretend to be or what others say you are—and I wish I could reciprocate, but…I just… don’t.”
An eternity passes by, it feels like. He doesn’t even know how long you two have been standing here now, but the sunrise is a clear indication that it’s been forever. And he doesn’t feel tired, nor does he feel upset…
He just feels dumb.
“I get it,” he finally speaks up. “We view each other differently and that’s not your fault.”
“Yeah, but—”
“It's not your fault,” he repeats, wearing a warm smile, hoping you'd believe his lie. That and he doesn’t think he can handle much more. All he wants to do is go back home. “I’m just glad I had someone to talk to for a while. And, well—I’m sorry. I must have gotten confused by the situation. Maybe I don’t love you, who knows. I probably just got excited, you know? Went my whole life without having an interaction like ours, maybe I’m convincing myself to believe in something that was never there to begin with. For either of us, that is.”
I just got excited, is all.
-
He did end up winning his fourth Championship the way he said he would. You did end up taking that perfect picture as he stood on that podium, shining as bright as his golden trophy. Jos was happy, Christian was happy, the entire team was happy, but you and Max?
Blue eyes lock with yours, feeling the differenceness between it all. He still loves you, he realizes. He wasn’t confused after all. But neither were you.
All you saw was your best friend, and now you’re not even sure you have one anymore. You two no longer hang out, you barely even speak to one another despite spending most of your days together. He still smiles at you from time to time, but it’s not the same. Nothing could ever be.
And it was a soul crushing thing to realize.
“Congratulations,” you muffle against his race suit as you hug him without your arms fully wrapping around him and his hardly wrapping around you. “This is your moment, Max.” A beat. “No one else’s.”
You’re talking about his dad. He knows that.
Chuckling, he nods. Like he’s sure of that now. That all his success is his, and his alone. That you have finally managed to matter the most in his life—not his trophies, not his father’s respect.
You.
Pulling away, he still feels your invisible hug linger on him in a way he can’t explain and neither could you. You dig into your pocket, pulling out a silver bracelet.
“Your birthday gift.”
Right. You never got the chance to give it to him after the last real conversation you two ever had. After that, both of you ignored the fact it ever even happened, and in a way, he was grateful for that, but that didn’t stop it from stinging. Looking down at it, he reads the engravement, feeling his heart take a last lap.
To my favorite open book. With love.
He laughs, clutching his fist around it. “I’m nowhere close to being an open book, but…thanks. I love it.”
You giggle, eyes crinkling with tears as you brush them away. “Not at first, but—eventually. It takes time.”
The cheers rise, but neither of you acknowledge them. Not even when they chant his name, over and over.
“You’ve peeled me,” he admits, nearly whispering. “Completely.” Your breath hitches, sucking in that breath that cost to take in. Max shrugs with a gentle grin. “You’ve peeled the lemon,” he jokes with a shaky breath of his own, blue eyes switching to a darker shade that makes your limbs go weak. “So—do your fingers burn?”
You force a laugh. The kind that makes your head tilt just a bit before tippy toeing to give him a proper kiss on the cheek. He goes still.
“I wish they did. That’d make my decision much easier to go through.”
With that, you step away, the Dutch immediately being over taken by journalists, photographers, the FIA, the drivers—everyone except the only person he really wants there celebrating with him.
His mind is racing faster than his Championship winning car. What decision? What could you possibly mean by that—
Christian embraces him, ruffling his sweaty hair as he pours a bottle of champagne over his head, laughing with glory. Max shakes his head, leaning down to ask the only question that ever made his heart break before he ever even got a response.
“Did she quit?”
Christian knows exactly who she is, but what catches him by surprise is how agitated he appeared to suddenly get. The team principal shrugs. “We’ll find you a new one!”
“No,” Max whispers in disbelief as he tries to find you from a distance, but all he sees are flashing lights that begin to cut his patience thin. “No.”
I wanted her.
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FAVS 4 LANDO NORRIS 6.0
Some of my favorite stories, writers you are amazing wanna be yours 2.0 part one | part two | part three | part four 20 weeks you say… Hickey Let’s Fall In Love For The Night media team Meet & Greet… and more? part one | part two | part three | part four Bitch, Whats For Dinner? wherever u r Slut Fishy Business sweet novacane the alchemy GOOD GRACES i like shiny things but i’d marry you with paper rings family issues Zandvoort Fuck Caught In the Act cuff it WHAT A COINCIDENCE Let’s get a picture of you with the trophy Get in loser, we’re going shopping Aakhon Mein Teri Brother’s best friend Emails I can't send 1 2 3 4 5 ... 𝘣𝘪𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 1 2 ... collection: 1
OSCAR PIASTRI MASTERLIST
codes: ✦ angst
ONE SHOTS
✦ amnesia - ex!reader summary: it has been a while since oscar and his girlfriend broke up, but some days he wishes he could wake up with amnesia. he misses her, he misses them, he loves her, but she doesn't love him.
million dollar woman - millionaire!reader summary: she knew he was an f1 driver, he knew she did something in an office. money was never talked about, it just existed - what oscar didn't know was that she was arguably much richer than he is
forgotten birthday | gf!reader summary: she knew oscar had a busy schedule, but her boyfriend of so many years forgetting her birthday still hurt more than she cared to admit. unless, had he?
✦ courage | best friend!reader summary: in their small beat up town you had two options. get out or stay stuck in the same vicious cycle fell into - drugs, alcohol and partying. oscar knew what he wanted to do, her however, he wasn't too sure.
✦ haunted | catholic!oscar summary: ever since he left for univeristy, he stopped going to church. but when things got shit there is only one place you can go to. the pretty cathedral in the town centre called his name, or did it? was it the cathedral or was it the voice?
high school sweethearts | uni!oscar summary: step one, you must accept that i'm a little out my mind. she was the weird girl, insane even - no body liked her, but oscar did.
new years dream | uni!oscar x singer!reader summary: oscar couldn't count how long he'd spent loving his best friend, but she was her and he was him. there was no way she could love him. on a night out on new years he finds her, he sees her and he wishes the words didn't dry up on his tongue.
sports car | zak's daughter!reader summary: she wants him. she wants him and his sports car, and she doesn't care how scandlous it gets if she'll get a ride on him and the car
✦ silver spoon | gf!reader summary: she was raised in fear, never knowing whether the next words spewed at her would be words of love or hatred. he was raised with the light left on and words of praise. they say opposites attract, but not in every scenario.
✦ kiss of death | uni!oscar summary: each valentine's day she gets her heart broken, each valentines all oscar can do is watch. until this year, this year he swears he'll tell her.
✦ good luck babe | ex bestfriend!reader summary: he told her that her life would end up this way, he told her she wouldn't be happy and now all he can do is sit there and say i told you so.
timezone | ex!reader summary: oscar fucked up, he let the love of his life slip out of his hands and enough is enough. he needs her back.
SMAU
professor piastri? - teacher!reader summary: oscar has a partner? she's a teacher? how did that even happen
home race - trilangual!reader summary: oscar has a habit of claiming every race of his as his own, now that his girlfriend speaks so many languages and she's teaching him, surely he can add more right?
SERIES
secret sister smau - norris!reader summary: lando never wanted the world to know about his sister, for her safety and also because he knows how much of a menace she is. on her 21st birthday he makes a birthday post for her letting the world know she exists - what he doesn't prepare for is his teammate catching feelings.
part one | part two | part three - completed
✦ chicago | single mum!reader summary: he fell in love with chicago, she told him she was all alone, but she wasn't - that was the problem
part one | part two | part three | part four - completed
skyfall | spy!reader summary: the two of them work for two different associations, they run into eachother more times than they would like to, what happens when tensions start to clash
part one | part two | part three - completed
no time to die | spy!reader - sequel to skyfall
part one | part two | part three - completed
✦ free now | author!reader summary: she was an author with no inspiration and a deadline. he was a formula one driver looking for a break. when those two hearts cross, you'd think it would make a fairytale story
part one | part two - completed
grid bunny - a (long) drabble
feat. max verstappen, lando norris, charles leclerc & carlos sainz
(it's dirty filth, i'm sorry!!!!!) 🐇
most grid bunnies know they're grid bunnies, they actively search for drivers to bed. but not you, you got caught up in this for some reason or another.
you joined redbull as a mechanic, you were proud of that title! not many can call themselves that! it was an opportunity to see the world and work on what you loved. the cars. your focus was on the cars, not men driving them.
you thought that the relationship you struck up with max was platonic, the thought didn't even cross your mind that he had any feelings for you. you thought to him you were just another face in the crowd. that was until you both split a bottle of wine and you ended up in his hotel room.
you were face down in bed and let him fuck you. he grumbled under his breath in dutch and liked to hold your head back. the three time champion loved to bite as well, your shoulders looked like a total mess by the time you staggered out of his hotel room. you however didn't get far as before you could get your pants in, the champion had his strong arms around you and pulled back into bed.
max was the kind of fuck that you knew you wouldn't get out of your mind. he liked it rough and dirty, he liked that he could move you into the position he wanted as he rutted up into you. it left you out of breath and hot all over, sweat stuck to the expanse of your back. he said to you in a brief break between rounds, "only the best." before he ran his thumb across your clit which made you grow tense. it only made him chuckle before his lips were on your neck again. "you look good in redbull colours."
you wouldn't end up leaving till morning, at least max bought you breakfast and some tylonel for the back pain. the hickies on the other hand had you zipping your coveralls a little higher to cover your neck fully.
-
lando was a flirt, he was all smiles and determination. you had assumed that word got around that the new little mechanic for red bull was a good fuck. he was in your personal space and made you laugh. he'd continue to make you laugh when his head was between your legs.
the driver didn't even get his racing gear off as he got you up on the couch in the driver's room. his tongue dragged along your pussy and you had to cover your mouth to not cause attention. the last thing you needed was some assistant walking in on lando norris, the second higher driver between your legs. headlines in the making. the gloves he wore were rough against your bare thighs as he sloppy noises he made filled the room. he ate like a man with an insatiable hunger, like he had been yearning to get between the legs of the little mechanic. "you feel so good." he groaned, "they should've hired you to bring a little relief to the grid." he chuckled as he looked up at you, "but i'm pretty sure i'd get just a little jealous if you were shared amongst the grid. bad enough i have to share with verstappen."
you felt flushed all over, so vulnerable under him. it was almost cute, as his tongue grazed your clit and soon his fingers joined the fray. you tried to keep noises down to a minimum. it was bad enough the max had rubbed it in lando's face that he had a grid bunny in his repertoire, you didn't want everyone to know about it.
-
every driver did know about it. which landed you in the arms of charles. he was smiles and sunshine, you took a liking to leo. but it was hard for charles to maintain the conversation when he saw you bent over to look at the dog. when you giggled at the animal's antics, you swayed a little which only enticed the ferrari driver.
he had heard from both max and lando about the mechanic that was scurrying around the paddock. with a pussy soft and tight, and a smile that was infectious. that and she was a easy to bed. charles didn't go after grid bunnies, but you were technically a mechanic, so.... charles however would take the longest to bed you, you thought it was because he was a gentleman.
that was not the case, instead he was trying to figure out how to tie you up in his hotel room as he fucked you. also forget about condoms, you had to scatter to different pharmacies in austin to find plan b.
the way he fucked you, he liked watching your face. he like the faces you made when he hit your sweet spots. it was almost a rivalry between the other two men as he held you face in his hand and maintained eye contact. no shying away from him as he moved his hips against you. "pretty girl." his voice was a low drawl and you felt your heart leap in your chest. his hands played with your breasts and you noticed when he got close, his tongue hung out of his mouth like a panting dog.
you'd never admit how good a cream-pie felt, you didn't want any of the others to know that they could do that. you weren't going bankrupt on emergency contraceptives.
-
if charles knew, then carlos knew. you were starting to get a little worried about it. you managed to get yourself through the top four ranking drivers, two from the same team. you couldn't help but feel a little flustered by it all.
the sex was amazing you weren't going to deny it, each driver had their strengths as a lover. the strength of max, the selflessness or lando and the eagerness of charles. carlos was a whole other beast entirely, he liked his hands in your hair. he liked the yank on it as he fucked you from behind. that wasn't his favourite activity though, he loved when you sucked his cock.
when you sucked his cock, it was warm up. he'd always get a little too excited and end up with you on your hands and knees. because of course, your main draw was your pussy after all! (sadly, not your mechanic skills). he did kiss a lot however, any time he pushed you a little too hard he'd smother you with kisses as he tried to ease his pace. but, it was hard. sometimes he forgot that you joined formula one as a mechanic when he was balls deep inside of you. his cock always nudged a little further than his teammate, which often took the air out of you. he had you by the waist as he moved against you. he'd often whisper praise to you, which only made your pussy wetter. he was diligent about protection which you were thankful for (two nights prior you were wrestling lando trying to get him to wear one). if you could describe sex with carlos it would be fun. even if it exhausted you, and he was just as rough as the other three.
-
maybe these men were egomaniacs who all fucked you as a means of one upping each other. passed between first and fourth. but, jesus were they big suck-ups when the post-nut clarity hit.
lando bought you flowers ("pretty flowers for a pretty girl!"), max snuck you some of the fancier food from the driver's room while you worked on his car ("you have to keep up your strength to help me win"), the lengthy almost romantic text message from charles before you started working "i hope it all goes well today, mon amour! i will be waiting for you at the finish line"), and finally the smothering after-care from carlos ("do you need anything? anything you want, i'll get.")
meanwhile you were around the paddock with a slight limp and rope burns around your wrists and thighs (fuckin' leclerc). but you appreciated it, it made you feel like you were more than just some stress relief for the top drivers. they thought about you, or at least thought enough about you, that these acts of kindness (maybe love) were on their mind.
they did have a habit of trying to one-up another. a race of their own for your affection. meanwhile you just wanted to make sure you weren't going to end up in hr's office. you just came here to fix cars!
-
at the end it felt like you were on a routine for each race with minimal breakaway from it. thursday you were with max, friday you were with lando, saturday with charles and sunday with carlos followed by an evening with who won (or at least got to podium), which often meant limping out of max's room in order to meet the other mechanics for the flight out of whatever country you were in.
you didn't want to think about the wetness in your panties when you sat in the plane seat. the plane would take off and the cycle would repeat.
by the end of the season, you were exhausted. as a christmas present you were gifted a one-way plane ticket to monaco. you looked at it then up at max who had his hand in your hair.
"where else were you going to spend the break?" he asked, not even taking into consideration that maybe you'd go home to your family, "i promise it is very nice this time of year, we want to make sure that you're safe over the break." he cupped you by the cheek and those blue eyes gazed into yours.
the idea of your safety needing to be assured sounded like a half assed attempt to seduce you back to the sunny shores of monte carlo. you wondered for a moment if you even needed to pack clothes.
"come home with us."
you took the ticket and looked at it closer. every excuse died in your throat, there was no way that you were going to weasel your way out of this. you should be happy, most would kill for the attention of one driver, and now you had the lingering gaze of four.
you just had to figure out how to get your hands on better birth control before the holidays started because you could only imagine the damage that was going to be done over the next few months. <3
Little Miss Wingwoman - LN4
With baby Verstappen-Piquet on the way, Penelope's nanny needs a place to move into as she becomes an almost full time employee of the family. No better place than Lando's spare bedroom, only a few floors down from her job, right?
warnings/notes: none particularly? this might be like five parts or two parts, im not sure yet :D!
Penelope's plan to get her two favorite people to fall in love begins to fall into place.
See, Penelope was smart. Kelly made sure she was creative and book smart while Max made sure she had the confidence to speak her mind. Penelope got all she wanted, within reason, spoiled just enough, worked for what she had to. Danced, played, sang, baked... she was kid, but she was smart. She could do it all herself if she wasn't a huge momma and daddy's girl. (Bonus-daddy's girl? She hadn't worked out the wording on that one yet.)
But, on the busy days, you visited.
Taking a summer gig to nanny in your last years of school, you didn't expect to be placed within the Verstappen-Piquet household. Two days in, you never wanted to leave, and Penelope--so so young back then, had refused to let you go. Now, a few years later, you traveled around with the family when needed. Most of the time, staying back to look over the apartment and the cats while they went around.
You were more so an extra set of hands for Kelly, someone who could run and get groceries before dinner, run Penelope to and from practices or accompany her to weekends with her father (the Kyvat's adored you as well), or someone who could stay back with Penelope for date nights or take her out for nights in.
After a few years of steady rhythm, everything was shaken up with baby Verstappen-Piquet on the horizon. A lot of changes needing to be made to prepare for the child, especially the further along Kelly was getting--appointments and classes and errands. A set of helping hands, especially when Max had to go off for work, was almost necessary.
But it was impossible to find apartments in Monaco on your budget. And with the spare room you had been using turning to a nursery for the little bugger coming along, you didn't have the luxury of sleeping in your employers home much longer.
And so, the hunt began.
Penelope had heard the news from Max, offhandedly mentioning it to Daniel during a padel game. The Australian didn't have space for you, as much as he'd grown to love your presence. A week later, he'd run into Charles while out getting dinner with P, and asked if he or Alexandra knew anywhere while Penelope pretended to be distracted by Leo. A week after that, Kelly had gone out to lunch with a bunch of her friends in the and discussed it openly.
A month in, Lando visited to watch Penelope while Kelly and Max went off to a doctor's appointment. Usually, you would stop by, but you were off on an early holiday vacation with family. The way Lando joked with Max, the easy smile on his lips, the awkward stumbles and laughter through his words... it was just like you could be.
Then, when Max asks, Lando mentions having a spare room he'd have to clean out. And the way Lando smiles when Penelope makes her way over to give him a hug, promising Max he'll keep her in line while the two of them are gone makes an idea flare in Penelope's head.
Lando needed a roommate, and you needed a place to stay. So, obviously, you were an absolutely perfect pair, right? It wasn't a new idea to her, you and Lando had met a few times over the course of the years you'd watched her. Mainly for short moments at whatever grand prix she'd begged you to come to, and the two of you seemed to get along...
And, she thinks you're both single. So, Penelope enacted stage one of her master wing(wo)man plan: getting you to move in with Lando.
While Penelope was scheming, browsing through YouTube for videos full of cutesy RomCom ideas, Lando was saying goodbye to Max and Kelly--wishing them luck, and then shutting the door behind him. He made quick work of sneaking a popcorn bag out of his backpack, popping it in the microwave while he scrolled through the countless movies on their smart TV--finding the perfect one for Penelope to watch.
The girl was engrossed, headphones shoved over her ears, watching a 'my top ten romantic moments in movies' compilation, but the smell of buttery goodness made her lift her head.
Lando smiles, holding out a bowl for her, "Too busy watching that for some old fashioned Disney?"
Glancing to the screen, Frozen 2 was paused on the opening screen, and Penelope tutted, "This came out in 2019."
"But thats like forever ago. Were you even born yet?" Lando smirks and Penelope takes the bowl from him with a scowl, but obliges to sit next to him on the couch, putting her iPad away for now, as Lando started the movie up.
But as Elsa is working to tame the Nøkk, Penelope lets out a soft sigh. Popcorn gone, and interest ruined. She wants to get back to studying. She has all winter break to make this love story happen, and with Lando and Max possibly going back for testing as early as January 3rd, she needs to act fast.
Lando glances over from where he's been idly answering emails between watching the movie, his own bowl empty. Penelope pouts while watching the movie, and he hums, looking at her.
"You're not even watching the coolest scene," Lando chimed softly, remembering the countless times little Mila would screech at the TV when she was really young. Penelope just huffed again, and he found himself curiously laying his head on his palm, "isn't this your favorite part?"
"No." Penelope deadpans, sighing again and dramatically slides off the couch onto her back and groans. She knows its a bit overkill, but its also Lando. He was a bit dramatic too. Penelope ends up closing her eyes for more drama as Sassy jumps off the couch and sniffs her head before trying to sneak a bite of corn kernels.
Lando reaches out and waves Sassy away, earning him a hiss and a sulk from the bengal as she stalks off to a far corner in the room. He slides the rest of his way out of the chair, hovering by Penelope's side before asking softly,
"What'sa matter, P?"
Penelope blinks open one eye at his approach, muttering, "The horse thing is Yn's favorite part of the movie."
"Yn?" Lando pops down on the floor next to her, pausing the movie on the TV, "is she one of your friends from dance?
"No, Yn is my nanny." Penelope sits up, a mischievous thought entering her mind, "but she doesn't have a place to live, so she's not my nanny now. Because she can't live in Monaco."
"Oh, that's a shame. D'ya miss her?" Lando asks softly and Penelope nods, leaning over to grab her iPad, pulling up a photo of the two of them squished together into the camera. Lando's smile tells Penelope all she needs to know, obviously he's totally in love with her, that's why he's grinning like that.
"That's a cute photo, P." Lando says. Jackpot. Shifting to lay on his stomach, Lando shuts his laptop on the couch and Penelope spends the rest of their three hour time talking non-stop about you to Lando. Practically making you sound like a damn angel rebirthed onto this Earth, shoving photos of you in his face, giggling like a mad man whenever he asks a question.
Penelope makes sure to have him follow your Instagram, grinning like a madwoman when he agrees to do so. When Max and Kelly come back, Lando stays for dinner, where Kelly informs Penelope you'll be visiting for a few days to do some apartment hunting.
Max seems to remember Lando lives alone and asks once more.
"I could clean the room out if she needs it," Lando says a bit more enthusiastically now. Penelope pats herself on the back as he says, "When Yn gets here, she can come over and take a look--just, just--just remind me to clean up. It's a bit messy."
"Wouldn't expect anything less from you, mate." Max grins and Lando sheepishly tries to defend himself while Kelly watches with a small smile, looking over to where Penelope eagerly grins.
A few days later, you fly in to Monaco. When the Verstappen-Piquet family stops by to visit, you greet them with tight hugs. Maneuvering around your big suitcase laying on the floor, you surprise Max and Kelly with a gift of a few baby items as well as some other much needed items for the couple. Namely, a gift card to Penelope's favorite store, which Max prompty hands back to you with the words, "she'd prefer shopping with her older 'sister'" tossed over his shoulder. The two don't stay long, having a flight to catch to the FIA Awards ceremony. So, Penelope stays in your hotel room while Max and Kelly go off, and you give her free reign to do whatever she wishes.
It only takes about ten minutes into you two being alone for Penelope to ask about the apartment search, almost bursting at the seams with a sense of excitement thats rare--even for her.
"Who told you that?" You spin around to poke your head out of the doorway, hands on your hips. You've spent the last twenty minutes trying to organize the tiny bathroom counter to fit most of your cosmetics and other items for the next few weeks you'd be staying here.
"I heard Maxie talking about it." Penelope looks up with big eyes, emphasizing her sad tone, "You aren't gonna live with us anymore?"
Sighing softly, you make your way across the room, sitting down next to a pouting Penelope on the bed, snatching her bottom lip between your fingers and lightly pulling it to make her giggle and roll away as you call, "keep your mouth like that and your face will freeze there forever!"
"It's gonna stay like this because I'm mad!" She groans, forcing back her smile and giggles, and sitting up and crossing her arms. Now overkill pouting to get her point across, "You aren't gonna live with me!"
"P, I don't fit in your place anymore." You sigh softly, laying across the bed and holding out an arm so the child can crawl over to lay against your side, "we gotta make room for the baby."
"We have to change everything for the baby!" Comes the sharp reply you were expecting. Max had warned you Penelope seemed a little snippy recently. While excited to have a little brother or sister, it was obvious Penelope was also feeling left out.
"Penelope," You soothe, rolling onto your side to prop your head up on a hand, "babies are a big change and unlike you and me, they can't take care of themselves. That's why your Momma and Max have to do all these classes, and appointments and everything. They've gotta make sure they're ready for the little thing."
"But the baby isn't even here yet and it's ruining everything!" Penelope laments, curling into your side, "Momma doesn't play anymore, Max is always busy moving stuff around, we haven't even had a movie night recently because Momma's been so tired!"
"I'm sorry, baby." You sigh. Totally unknowingly feeding right into Penelope's carefully laid trap, "you're allowed to be upset, but you have to also understand this is what has to happen."
"Will it go back to normal when the baby gets here?" Penelope looks up and you give her a little shrug, running a hand through her hair,
"Not for a while, baby."
"Can we go back to normal? Even if you don't live with us anymore?" Penelope sits up now, dragging you to join her and you smile, lifting her up to sit right on your lap as you fix up her unruly hair--another sign of Kelly's growing baby bump, the lack of Penelope hair-dos.
"We'll always be the same, and I'm looking at staying nearby. It'll be an adjustment but it won't be awful." You smile, tucking her hair up into a braid, securing it with a little bow at the end, "Wanna go get something to eat? Max gave me back the babysitting allowance card..."
Hook. Line. Sinker.
"Please!" Penelope gasps, standing up off your lap and jumping off the bed to grab her bag. A little stuffed cat Jelly Cat bag you think hearing Lando had snagged on a trip recently for the little girl. It's cute, and Penelope smiles when she sees you eyeing it.
"Lando got me this!" She proudly exclaims, holding it up as you slip on your shoes.
"Yeah?" You ask, walking to the door as Penelope bounces behind you, grinning wide enough her cheeks puff up, "you two seem to get along."
"He's really cool! You guys could be friends," Penelope laments, dragging you out of the hotel room once you have your shoes, jacket, and purse securely fastened for her little rollercoaster of a personality, "He thinks you're pretty."
Which, isn't exactly true, but it makes your face warm enough for Penelope as you step into the chilly air.
"Well, thats very kind of him," is your reply as you turn towards the coastline, hosting Penelope up into your arms so you don't have to worry about the curious five year old scurrying off.
You end up at one of Penelope's favorites, Costadoro Social. The place is downright adorable, and you manage to snag a window table. While you order, Penelope gets out only the best pages from her sticker book for the both of you to put together. Once you're both settled in, sandwiches and drinks (yours a coffee and hers a hot chocolate), the crowd mills out of the building. Leaving you and a somewhat familiar couple off in a corner, a third chair at their table yanked out like it's expecting someone to swing by.
As you two start on some winter scene in this very exact ticker book, Penelope rattles off countless stories to you about the weekend in Abu Dhabi. When she gasps, asking to show you the stickers she gave to Lando, you notice the curly headed man at the other table peeks over before turning to his girlfriend to ask something.
She shrugs, and the bell dings on the entry door. The woman behind the counter cheerily greeting the newcomer as you look down to where Penelope proudly shows you a picture Kelly had taken with her and Lando, showing off his stickers.
"They made him go fast and win," Penelope happily says, settling back in her seat. You nod, of course it was the stickers. Not because Lando was a professional, but Penelope looks smug like she'd been the reason for the McLaren WCC, so you let it slide. It's cute.
A Laufey cover of 'I've Got My Love To Keep Me Warm' begins to play as you pull out your phone to show Penelope your mothers cats back home, as well as some other photos of the short trip back home.
The man at the table stands, walking over, and the motion catches Penelope's watchful eye as the two men give a short hug to one another--wishing happy holidays. You set your phone down, looking over as you sip your drink, and the dimpled smile of one of the men catches your eye.
He's cute.
He turns, as if feeling your gaze, and before you can jerk back he grins widely, "Hey Pen!"
"Lando!" Penelope squeaks, wiggling out of her chair and bounding over to give him a hug. The two share quick pleasantries and an introduction to Lando's friends--Max and Pietra, before Penelope gasps and runs over to you, "Lando, it's Yn!"
You stand at the mention of your name, hustling over with a sheepish smile as Penelope grabs your hand and drags you over like she'll die if she doesn't get the chance to.
"Hi," you squeak, shaking his awaiting hand, "It's nice to meet you, Penelope talks about you a lot."
His cheeks are rosy as you shake his hand, and a tiny grin pokes at Lando's lips as he nods, "she talks about you a lot, too."
"I told you she was pretty!" Penelope chimes, making Max nearly snort out his coffee while Pietra laughs softly. You and Lando are a bit closer to mortified at Penelope's insistence, and you manage to get her to say goodbye so the group can enjoy their lunch together since she does have dance rehearsal soon.
About two hours or so later, you get back to Max and Kelly's post rehearsal. And while Penelope curls up all about tuckered out from running amuck down the shopping districts, learning new ballet moves, and endlessly mentioning Lando like a lovesick teenager, you pull up your phone and scroll through your feed as Penelope fights off a nap.
It's due time for an Instagram post anyways.
liked by maxverstappen, kellypiquet, landonorris, and others...
yourusername: back home for the holidays <3
kellypiquet: the absolute best!
user: YESS YN AND PENELOPE CONTENT WILL RETURN
user2: omg that DRESS i need
⤷ yourusername: its an innika choo dress but im not sure if they're even open anymore :( kelly got it for me for my birthday last yr!!
⤷ user2: OMG THANK U ill keep an eye out!!!
maxverstappen: so thats why theres beads all over the carpet?
⤷ yourusername: i wasnt the cat who decided to try and eat them (jimmy)
⤷ maxverstappen: unsurprising
lilymhe: omg !!! we need to meet up! alex and i have been dying to update you on The Lore
⤷ yourusername: please!! ive been dying to see you guys again :(!!
user3: SO CUTE!!
user4: i would die to be living ur life yn
landonorris: penelope seems to keep you busy
⤷ yourusername: you saw her shenanigans today, it only gets worse
⤷ alexalbon: lando what r u doing
⤷ landonorris: ???????
⤷ maxverstappen: 👁️
⤷ landonorris: ???!!!!
You're halfway through helping Penelope with wrapping a christmas present for her dance teacher when Max knocks on the doorway. You turn around, standing when he beckons you over.
"How's Kelly?" You ask softly, knowing she's trying to sleep off a bout of morning sickness. Max shrugs, sipping his Red Bull.
"A bit ill, but she seems to be getting better. Penelope's fine?"
You nod, looking back as Penelope crosses her arms and scowls at all the options for the bow she could put on the bag.
"Lando's cleaned his apartment, finally," Max watches Penelope with a soft look, before turning to you and leaning on the wall with a tired yawn. He's still adjusting from the season, and the early sun dipping behind the buildings wasn't helping his sleep cycle.
"You should go over, take a little tour." Max hums, "You deserve a break from watching P all day."
"It's quite literally what you pay me to do, Max." You laugh softly, but with a few more pushes of insistence you finally agree. He shoots Lando a text to let him know you're on your way down as you grab a pair of Uggs you wear indoors, and your keys so you don't get locked out.
The elevator ride down is short, and you walk into the warm hallway to see Lando down the hall peeking out. He smiles at your approach and holds open the door for you.
"Nice to see you again," He chimes as you enter. It's been about a week since you've seen him, now teetering close to Christmas, and you smile at him.
"Nice to see you too, Lando." You hum, and he brings you to the spare room. It's spacious, with a big window that looks over the entire Monaco bay. You're drawn to it like a moth to a flame, it's perfect. Everything you could've dreamed of and more. Lando makes sure to show you the ensuite bathroom and large closet.
Everything feels too good to be true, so you quickly ask, "How much would you want me to pay you in rent?"
"Rent?" Lando pauses in the kitchen where he'd offered to get you a soda from his sparse fridge. He shakes his head, leaning on the counter and taking a sip of his water bottle, "Max told me your budgets quite small. I figured I could pay rent and you could pay like... utility?"
"That's gotta be like a quarter of what you pay for this place, Lando. I have a good amount saved up!" You protest and he shakes his head, a tiny smile on his lips.
"Listen, you're honestly doing me a favor. You probably know how to make a house a proper functioning home. I barely know how to not burn leftovers when I reheat them." He chides himself and you break into a tiny laugh, missing the way his face gets rosy at your giggles, "I need a bit of help making this place look... homey. And Max told me you'd be good at that."
"So I'm helping you learn to adult to pay my rent?" You ask and your bluntness makes Lando flush as he rubs the back of his neck and looks down with a shrug.
"If that's okay..?"
"I mean... I'd like to pay, but if you wanna do it this way, fine... But if I end up staying here for a long time, you have to let me help with rent." You hold a hand out like this will seal the deal and Lando grins, his embarrassment forgotten as he darts over to happily shake your hand. You try to ignore how warm his hands are against your cold ones.
"Welcome home, then--oh! I have a spare key for you!" He tries to flash you a charming smile, but the excited expression taking over just makes his face go through far too many expressions in a row. You can't help but laugh, looking around the bare but clearly well loved apartment.
It could use some work, sure, but thats your job now... you suppose.
general tag (open!)
@d3kstar @justalittlejess (jess ur on here now enjoy LMAO)
series specific tag (open!)
@nikfigueiredo
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A 22 year old girl, fan of stackiemight write some fanfictions (marvel, chicago pd, chicago fire, chicago med), short angsty essays about life, update on my journey towards a better mental and physical heatlh. drop questions! fandom related or just you want to talk to somebody.
299 posts