Like Lando Norris

Hey author,

Loved your work! I have a request for a Max Verstappen fiction. Here's the idea:

Max Verstappen and the Reader have been friends since childhood and started dating when they were 15. The Reader is currently the number one ranked tennis player, with 2 Wimbledon titles, 3 French Open titles, and 2 Australian Open titles to her name. She is the best in women's singles and doubles tennis at the moment.

The Reader is a badass, known for her fiery press conferences and domination on the court, much like how Max is in racing. Despite being a power couple in front of the world, they are very vulnerable and weak for each other. They know the struggles both have been through—she understands the impact Max's childhood and his father, Jos, have had on him, and he knows the challenges she faces, including attacks and pressures from the media.

They are incredibly supportive of each other. Max attends all her Grand Slam matches, and she visits his races. They are deeply in love and very open with each other, understanding each other's feelings and experiences.

That's the type of story I have in mind. I hope you like it!

Best regards,

Anon.

Power Couple

Summary: Max Verstappen and the Reader have been friends since childhood and started dating when they were 15. The Reader is currently the number one ranked tennis player, with 2 Wimbledon titles, 3 French Open titles, and 2 Australian Open titles to her name. She is the best in women's singles and doubles tennis at the moment.

Song: Slow Down · Chase Atlantic

Author’s note: I hardly had any ideas for this one but I tried my best! Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 6.8k

MASTERLIST - F1

It's messy, chaotic, and punctuated by the sharp thwack of a tennis ball and the roar of a finely tuned engine. It’s the story of you and Max, a whirlwind that started when you were both just fifteen, a story that’s still unfolding in the dazzling glare of the spotlight.

You were fifteen and a force of nature on the tennis court, even back then. Your name was already whispered with respect in junior circuits. You carried a racquet like an extension of your arm, and your focus was so intense it was almost palpable.

That summer, your training brought you to a small, dusty tennis club nestled in the Dutch countryside, a far cry from the manicured lawns of Wimbledon, but the perfect place to hone your craft.

He was there too. Not on the court, but lurking near the chain-link fence, a lanky boy with eyes the colour of storm clouds and a mop of unruly brown hair perpetually falling into his face. You'd noticed him, of course.

How could you not? He was the only teenager there whose attention wasn't glued to the endless practice sessions. Instead, he seemed more interested in the growl of the beat-up scooter he’d arrived on.

One day, during a water break, you were staring down at the worn-out grip on your Wilson when he spoke.

"That's a good shot," he said, his voice still cracking with that awkward teen timbre.

You looked up, surprised, and saw him leaning against the fence, an almost shy smile playing on his lips. "You mean the forehand?" you asked, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, a nervous habit you hadn't quite shaken off.

He shrugged, his eyes dancing with something you couldn't quite place. "I don't know. All of them, I guess? You look like you're trying to kill the ball."

A chuckle escaped you. "It's called intensity."

"Yeah, well, I like it." He pushed off the fence and walked a little closer. "I'm Max."

"You know, I've noticed," you teased, a smirk spreading across your face. "Always lurking by the gate."

His grin widened, making him look younger and somehow much more approachable. "Lurking? I prefer… observing." He paused, then gestured towards your racket. “Do you think you could teach me to hit like that?”

And just like that, a friendship was born, as naturally as the changing of seasons. You didn't actually teach him to play tennis, you decided, though, that he was far more enthralled with the intricate mechanics of his racing kart, and you found yourself drawn to the way his eyes lit up whenever he spoke about the feeling of speed and control.

You spent the rest of your summer evenings not on the court, but tinkering with his kart in his garage, or racing against each other on the empty country roads, the roar of engines a stark contrast to the quiet thud of tennis balls you were used to.

You taught him a little about the precision and discipline you carried from your sport while he showed you how to embrace a more reckless, unbridled kind of passion.

As the weeks passed, those shared moments morphed into something deeper. One warm evening, after a long day at the track, you found yourselves lying on the grass, looking up at the stars.

The silence stretched between you, comfortable and charged, until he turned his head, and his hand brushed against yours.

"You know," he said, his voice low, "I can't imagine not having you here. You're… unlike anyone I've ever met."

Your heart hammered against your ribs. You had thought the same thing, again and again. "You're kinda different yourself, Verstappen," you whispered, your gaze fixed on his face.

He picked up your hand, his touch sending shivers down your spine. “Are you going to let me kiss you?” he asked, his stormy blue eyes searching yours.

You didn’t hesitate. You tilted your head slightly, and that soft, hesitant kiss was the start of something bigger than either of you could have imagined.

The next few years were a blur of teenage milestones, shared victories, and the quiet comfort of understanding each other. You traveled the world, following your dreams. You were winning Grand Slams.

You mastered the art of the backhand and the perfect serve, while he climbed the ranks in the world of Formula 1, learning the intricacies of high-speed racing and the relentless demands of the professional circuit.

You learned to navigate the complexities of a long-distance relationship, the bittersweet ache of goodbyes followed by the heady joy of reunions.

You’d meet in far-flung corners of the world, a stolen weekend in Monaco, a quick coffee in London, sharing late-night calls across different time zones, finding solace in each other’s voices.

You learned to listen, not just with your ears, but with your heart, understanding the unspoken language of ambition and dedication, of relentless pursuit, from someone who truly understood what was involved.

He was there in the stands when you clinched your first Wimbledon title, his applause echoing louder than the roar of the crowd, his pride radiating across the stadium.

You, in turn, were glued to the screen, every race day a nail-biting affair as you chanted his name like a magic spell. You celebrated his wins with unabashed joy, commiserated over his losses with a fierce loyalty that only a childhood best friend, a lover, could offer.

Your life now is a whirlwind of press conferences, sponsor obligations, and the unwavering pressure to stay at the top.

You glide across the court, a graceful yet powerful force, your focus sharp and unflinching, yet when you catch a glimpse of Max in the crowd, you allow yourself a secret smile, a silent reminder of your shared history, of the kid he was all those years ago. He is a reminder of that simpler time.

There are moments, like now, after another grueling day on the court, when you close your eyes and let the roar of the crowd fade away, replaced by the rumble of his scooter and the memory of his first shy smile.

You might be number one in the world of tennis, a name whispered in awe, but you know, the best title you've ever earned is his girlfriend. And that, you think, is the greatest prize of all.

And, as you’re getting ready for the next press conference, you're thinking of the next time you see him. The thought has you smiling again. . . .

The roar of the crowd is a familiar symphony, a constant hum beneath your focused breath. You adjust the headband, the familiar terry cloth a comfort against the glare of the stadium lights. Wimbledon’s Centre Court is your kingdom, the lush green grass your canvas.

You’re leading 5-3 in the third set against Elena Rybakina, a formidable opponent, your every move calculated, precise. A serve, a blur of motion – ace. The roar erupts, a wave of sound that threatens to lift you off your feet.

You know you've got this, the title within your grasp. You’ve worked for this, bled for this, every single grueling practice session, every sacrifice, all culminate in this moment.

You win the game, the match, and the crowd goes wild. The air crackles with energy, the taste of victory sweet on your tongue. You shake hands with Rybakina, a brief, respectful acknowledgment of the battle fought, then raise your arms in a triumphant arc.

Another Wimbledon title under your belt. You can feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins, the familiar mix of elation and exhaustion. It’s a high like no other, but underneath that surge of victory there's another feeling, a quiet hum of anticipation.

You know who’s waiting for you.

The post-match media scrum is a blur - flashes, questions, microphone in your face. You handle it all with your usual icy grace, your well-honed responses a shield against the endless prodding.

You’re used to it; it comes with the territory of being the best. But you’re itching to escape its glare. You see your agent, Sarah, giving you a quick nod, and you know it's your cue. A few more polite words, another practiced smile, and then you're slipping away, finally free of the spotlight.

You find him in the players' lounge, perched on a sofa, his eyes tracking yours as you walk in. Max. He stands as you approach, a smile playing on his lips that makes your heart do that familiar little flip.

The harsh lines that often harden his face are softened when he looks at you. He gathers you into his arms, his embrace both fierce and gentle.

"You were incredible," he whispers against your hair, his voice roughened with emotion. "An absolute beast out there."

"Thanks, you," you murmur, breathing in his scent, the familiar comfort of it grounding you after the storm of the match. You pull back slightly, your gaze catching his. “Did you watch the whole thing? Even with your schedule?”

He chuckles, a low rumble in his chest. "Wouldn't miss it for the world. You were destroying her. Honestly, you're the most dangerous person I know." You laugh at that, a genuine laugh that’s rare these days, a laugh that only he can draw out of you.

Later, back at the house in Monaco, you sit side-by-side on the balcony, the Mediterranean Sea shimmering under the moonlight. He holds your hand, his thumb tracing patterns on your knuckles.

In this serene space, the world outside fades away. The tension that always seems to cling to you both loosens, the relentless pressure of your careers receding into the background.

"You know," Max begins, his voice quiet, "sometimes I still can't believe it. You, the best there is. Not just in the world, but the best there could ever be.”

You turn to him, your eyes searching his. "And you?" you ask him, “World Champion twice? Sometimes I can't believe you’re not some superhuman entity.”

He squeezes your hand, his gaze unwavering. "We both push ourselves to the edge, and beyond," he says. "It's what makes us who we are, isn’t it?"

"Yeah," you agree, leaning your head against his shoulder. "But it's also why we need each other." The silence that follows is comfortable, a space filled with shared understanding, a knowing that transcends words.

The days that follow are a brief reprieve, stolen moments away from the relentless cycle of competition. You spend them walking along the coast, laughing, rediscovering the simplicity of just being together.

But the respite is always fleeting, the demands of your respective careers always looming on the horizon. You’re due to fly out for a tournament in Washington D.C. in a week, and Max is scheduled for a race in Hungary two weeks after that.

The night before you leave, the atmosphere is thick with a quiet anticipation. You’re curled up on the sofa, your favourite movie playing softly on the TV, but neither of you is paying much attention.

Max pulls you closer, his hand slipping beneath your t-shirt, tracing the curve of your back. His skin is always warm against yours, a familiar comfort.

"I wish you didn't have to go," he murmurs, his voice husky. "I hate being away from you."

You turn to face him, your fingers cupping his cheek. "I wish I didn't either, but we know how this goes. We’re just two very busy, very overachieving maniacs.”

He smiles, a flash of his boyish charm. "Yeah, but that's why I love you. You’re as insane as I am." He leans in, his lips finding yours, and for a moment, the world outside ceases to exist.

The morning you leave, the goodbyes are short, a quick kiss on the lips and a promise to call every day. You watch his car disappear down the driveway, a small ache settling in your chest.

It's the same ache you feel every time you part ways, a reminder of your connection, a reminder of what you have to come back to.

The tournament in D.C. is a brutal battle. You're seeded first, as always, and the pressure is immense. You win the first few rounds with your usual dominance, but then come up against a rising star, a young American player who pushes you to your absolute limit.

The match goes to five sets, each point a war of attrition. You’re exhausted by the end, but you win, the taste of victory bittersweet.

That night, you’re in the hotel room, the city lights twinkling outside your window. You’re on a call with Max, his voice a soothing balm to your frazzled nerves.

He’s telling you about his practice sessions, the improvements he’s made to his car, and you’re listening intently, your mind drifting away from the exhaustion and the pressure.

“You were so close out there,” he says suddenly, “your match was insane, I was so nervous.”

“You always are,” you giggle, picturing his intense face watching your match on the TV. “Just like how I feel every race you’re in.”

You’re both quiet for a moment, the hum of the call a gentle lull. “I’m proud of you,” he says, his voice soft, “you always make me so proud.”

“And I you,” you murmur, a lump forming in your throat.

“I love you,” he whispers, and you feel like you're home again, all the way across the world.

“Love you too, always.”

You fall asleep with his voice still ringing in your ears. The next morning, you wake up to a phone call you weren't expecting. It’s Sarah, your agent, and her voice is strained.

"There's been an accident," she says, her voice barely a whisper, "Max... he was in a crash during practice."

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. The room spins, the world blurring at the edges. Your breath catches in your chest, a cold dread gripping your heart.

"How bad?" you manage to ask, your voice shaking.

"We don't know yet," she says, the uncertainty in her voice doing little to assuage the terror that’s now flooding you. "You need to come home, now."

The next few hours are a chaotic blur. You’re on autopilot, racing through airports and boarding planes, your heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribs. You barely register the faces around you, the sounds of the world muted, as if you're underwater.

All you can think of is Max, his face, his smile, his voice. The thought of losing him is unbearable.

You arrive in Monaco in the dead of night. The house feels cold and empty, the silence deafening. You make your way to the hospital, your every step heavy, the weight of your fear pressing down on you.

You find him in a small, sterile room, his body connected to monitors. He’s pale and still, his face almost hidden by the shadows. You feel like you’ve been ripped open, the pain so sharp it steals your breath.

You rush to his side, your fingers reaching for his hand. His skin is cold, but his grip tightens around yours, a small, reassuring squeeze.

His eyes flutter open, and he looks at you, a flicker of recognition in his gaze. "You’re here," he whispers, his voice hoarse.

“Max,” you breathe, a sob catching in your throat. Tears are streaming down your face as you gently cup his face. “I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

He smiles weakly, his thumb tracing circles on the back of your hand. “I knew you would be,” he murmurs, his eyes closing again, “always, even when I’m an idiot driving a race car.”

You don’t say anything, you just sit beside him, holding his hand, and watching him breathe, a silent promise passing between you, a bond forged in childhood, strengthened by shared triumphs and endured through deep pain - a love that would always, always persevere. . . .

The scent of burnt rubber and high-octane fuel clings to him even before the door shuts. You hear the familiar click of the lock, and then the heavier thud of his boots hitting the tiles of the hallway.

You’re sprawled on the couch, a worn-out copy of “Open” by Andre Agassi resting on your chest. Jimmy, the ginger behemoth, is purring like a motorboat on your left thigh, while Sassy, the sleek black panther, is curled into a perfect ebony question mark at your feet.

They’ve been your constant companions during the lull before your next tournament.

“Hey,” Max’s voice is low, tired, but a ripple of warmth underlies it. You open your eyes, the intense afternoon sun filtering in through the tall living room windows making the world outside a blur of gold and green.

You push Agassi off your chest, feeling the book’s weight leave a slight indent.

“Hey yourself,” you reply, a small smile tugging at your lips. You watch as he shrugs off his jacket, the Red Bull logo on his polo a vibrant dash of color against the muted tones of the room.

He looks drained, the lines around his eyes slightly more pronounced than you remember from the last time he was home. You know those lines; they’re etched by the relentless pressure of Formula 1, the constant travel, the unending pursuit of milliseconds.

He kneels beside the couch, reaching out a hand to scratch behind Jimmy's ears. The cat pushes his head into Max’s palm, a rumbling purr vibrating through his frame.

“They’ve missed you,” you murmur, running a hand down Sassy’s velvety back.

Max glances up at you, his blue eyes, usually so sharp and focused, are a little softer now, a touch vulnerable and definitely possessive. “Not as much as I missed you,” he says quietly, his gaze lingering on your face.

You feel the familiar warmth spread through your chest. It's crazy how after all these years, the simple act of him looking at you like that can still make your heart do somersaults.

He settles onto the couch, his long legs stretching out and nearly touching your feet. He pulls you into his side, and you nestle in, the familiar rhythm of his heartbeat a comforting lullaby.

The tension in his body is palpable. “Bad race?” you ask softly, tracing small circles on his arm with your fingertip.

He sighs, a gust of air escaping his lips. “Third,” he replies, the single word carrying a weight that you understand completely. “Just… not good enough, you know?”

You nod, because you do know. You've had your share of crushing defeats, the sting of a missed shot, the frustration of an opponent playing out of their skin. You’ve both built entire empires on a foundation of ambition, a constant striving for perfection, despite the inherent impossibility of it.

You know how those ‘not good enough’ days can feel.

“You’ll get ‘em next time,” you say, your head resting against his shoulder. There’s no need for platitudes or empty reassurances. He knows that you know.

A wry smile touches his lips. “Easy for you to say. You’re basically untouchable on the court right now.”

You chuckle, a low, confident sound that ripples through his frame. “Untouchable? Please. I just know how to make my opponents sweat a little.”

You raise your eyebrows, a mischievous glint in your eyes. He is so well aware of the press conferences where you don't mince your words.

He lets out a genuine laugh then, the sound is music to your ears. It’s raw and real. “That's the understatement of the century,” he says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “The way you went off on that reporter after your French Open semi-final was legendary."

You roll your eyes dramatically, though you can't suppress the grin that spreads across your face. “He asked if I was scared of my opponent. Scared. As if. I’d rather face a thousand of those volleys than go through another interview like that.”

He pulls you closer, his arm tightening around you. "You're fierce," he murmurs, burying his face in your hair. "On and off the court. It's... it's one of the things I love about you.”

“And you’re terrifying behind the wheel,” you tease, knowing that a lot of his race opponents are afraid of him on the track.

He chuckles again, a low rumble against your ear. “And you love that too,” he says, the teasing note in his voice back.

You don’t bother denying it. He knows you too well. You know him too well. You’ve built something that is so incredibly strong because it was always built together. You’ve seen each other through the highs and lows, the wins and losses, the triumphs and the heartbreaks.

You’ve navigated the pressures of fame, the relentless scrutiny, the isolating nature of being at the top – together. You were just kids when it started, two teenagers with big dreams and even bigger personalities.

You fell in love navigating the ups and downs of life, and you grew up together, which made things that much stronger.

The silence that follows is comfortable, filled with the unspoken language that only two people who have known each other for so long can share. You can feel the tension slowly leaving him, as if your presence is a balm to his weary soul.

“Tournament soon?” he asks, his voice muffled against your hair.

“Yeah,” you reply, “Dubai. In a week.” You know the time change between Dubai and Europe will be brutal, but you’ve become accustomed to that aspect of your career.

He lifts his head and looks at you, his gaze intense. “You’ll crush them,” he says with absolute certainty.

You smile, the confidence in his voice a tangible thing. “Just like you’re going to leave them all in the dust next race, huh?”

He grins, that familiar flash of competitive fire returning to his eyes. “You know it.”

You trace the line of his jaw, your fingers lingering on the slight stubble. You could spend hours like this, just the two of you, wrapped up in each other’s presence, the noise of the world fading away.

There’s a vulnerability in him that only you get to see, a softness that he hides from the cameras, the reporters, the rivals. And in return, he gets to see a side of you that very few have been privy to, the quiet tenderness that lies beneath the fiery exterior.

“Want to order some takeaway?” you ask, the thought of cooking suddenly feeling like a monumental task.

“Pizza?” he suggests, his eyes already sparkling with the thought.

“Only if it has pineapple,” you tease, knowing that it is the most controversial thing you could possibly say.

Max groans, throwing his head back against the couch. “You are absolutely going to be the death of me,” he says, but the smile on his face belies his words.

You laugh, the sound light and free. You lean in, your lips meeting his in a soft, lingering kiss. It’s the taste of home, a place where you are both just Max and you, where the pressures of the world are just whispers in the distance.

You know that outside this space, you are both world-class athletes with unwavering determination, but in each other’s arms, you are just two people who grew up together. Who fell in love.

Who, despite the relentless demands of your careers, will always find their way back to each other. You are, after all, each other’s constant. You are, and will always be, each other’s home.

The roar of the engine was a familiar lullaby, a sound that had been a constant soundtrack to your life since you were kids, perched on the sidelines of karting tracks, watching Max whiz by in a blur of red and orange.

Now, instead of a flimsy kart, you were strapped into a beast of a car, the smell of hot rubber and high-octane fuel filling your nostrils. You glanced at the familiar, focused profile of Max beside you, the set of his jaw a testament to his concentration.

This was supposed to be a fun exercise, a publicity stunt dreamed up by Red Bull’s marketing department – the world’s number one tennis player, and the reigning Formula One Champion, taking a joyride. Except, this wasn’t a joyride.

This was a terror ride, and you were pretty sure your heart was currently trying to stage a coup and escape from your chest.

“Max,” you started, your voice a little too high pitched, a far cry from the confident, booming voice that usually echoed through stadium press boxes. “You know I’m used to your speed, right? On the track, where it's meant to be, not on some random circuit at 300 km/h.”

He didn’t answer, just a subtle twitch of his lips hinting at a suppressed grin. You gripped the grab handle on your side of the car so hard your knuckles turned white.

It was no secret that Max, much like you on the tennis court, thrived on pushing boundaries. He was a master of controlled chaos on the track, and right now, you weren’t so sure about the "controlled" part.

The car accelerated, forcing you back into your seat. You let out a yell, a mix of fear and adrenaline coursing through you.

You were used to controlling your own trajectory, predicting your opponent’s next move, the satisfying thump of a perfectly placed serve. This, this was utterly out of your hands, at the mercy of Max’s foot on the accelerator pedal.

“Max! Verdomme! Slow down!” You bellowed, resorting to Dutch as your carefully constructed composure shattered into a million pieces. You could feel the g-force pressing against you, throwing your head against the headrest as he took a corner at an impossible speed.

You braced yourself, bracing your hands against the dashboard, trying to find something solid to cling to.

You could hear him chuckling, the sound muffled but distinct. You could practically see the mischievous glint in his eyes, even though you were looking straight at the dashboard.

“What, is the little tennis star scared?” He teased, his voice laced with amusement.

He downshifted, the revs of the engine screaming higher, and you swore you felt your stomach try to migrate up into your throat.

“Scared?! I’m not scared!” You shouted back, partially for his benefit, mostly for yours. “I’m just… concerned about the structural integrity of this car. And my very delicate internal organs!” You knew you sounded pathetic, not the self-assured athlete the world knew and feared, but you couldn’t help it.

This was Max Verstappen, after all. He had a unique way of bringing out your most ridiculous, human side.

He laughed again, a full, genuine laugh this time, the kind that made your heart flutter even while your stomach was performing gymnastics.

He glanced over at you, a grin playing on his face. “Relax, schatje. I have it under control.”

And maybe, just maybe, you did believe him, for a split second anyway. Then he slammed on the gas and you screamed again, a string of Dutch curses pouring out of your lips as you gripped the headrest with an iron fist.

Each turn was a rollercoaster, each acceleration a punch to your gut. You found yourself cursing in Dutch, English, and even a little bit of French, a linguistic mashup fuelled by sheer terror.

You caught glimpses of the blur outside, the landscape a streaks of green and brown. You tried to focus on breathing, trying to regain a semblance of control over your runaway emotions, but every time he hit the accelerator, you lost it again.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, or perhaps just a few minutes of extreme adrenaline, the car slowed, and pulled into a stop. You were slumped back in your seat, a sweaty, disheveled mess.

“That was… an experience,” you managed, your voice still a bit shaky.

He turned to you, his eyes sparkling as he gave you a wide, triumphant grin. “Fun, right?”

You almost laughed, a mixture of disbelief and exasperation. “Fun? Max, I think I aged at least five years in that car.” You reached up and felt your pulse, which was still trying to break free.

He tilted his head, the playful gleam still dancing in his eyes. “But you said you're used to my speed."

You threw your hands up. “Yes, but I didn’t know you’d be trying to scare me, you… absolute menace.”

He chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated in your chest, and then reached over and undid your seatbelt. As he did, he leaned in close, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “Maybe just a little.”

You felt yourself blush, despite the fact that you were also on the verge of throttling him. As he stepped out of the car, you took a moment to collect yourself, smoothing your clothes and trying to appear somewhat pulled together.

As you reached up, your fingers brushed something small and hard attached to the car’s dashboard. It was a camera, aimed directly at you.

Your eyes widened, and then everything clicked into place. The teasing laughter, the exaggerated acceleration, the playful comments – it had all been an elaborate, incredibly mischievous ploy.

You burst out laughing, a genuine, unrestrained laugh that echoed around the open space. You couldn't help it. It was absurd, ridiculous, and completely, utterly Max.

You covered your face with your hands, still laughing. He watched you, his eyes sparkling, a smile playing on his lips.

“Did you get all of that?” you exclaimed, still chuckling. “The screaming in multiple languages? The death grips on the dashboard?"

He shrugged, pretending to look innocent, but the smirk on his face told another story. “Maybe.”

You shook your head, still laughing. “You’re unbelievable,” you said, your voice laced with amusement rather than anger.

“Only for you,” he replied, that familiar mischievous glint returning to his eyes.

You lowered your hands, a smile now playing on your lips. “I should have known, shouldn’t I? That you would never just do a normal lap with me.”

He took a step closer, his eyes meeting yours. “Where’s the fun in normal, liefje?”

You knew he was right. Normal was boring. And as much as the terror of the hot lap had made you want to wring his neck, you also wouldn't trade it for anything.

It was another reminder of the chaotic dance you and Max had always been in, a dance of adrenaline, teasing, and a love that ran as deep as the engine roar that had been the background to your lives.

This was your Max, and despite your near-death experience, you wouldn't have him any other way. You stepped out of the car, ready to face the world, and whatever else he decided to throw your way. The camera might have captured your terrified screams, but it had missed the grin that was now plastered across your face.

You were ready for your next match but you were also ready for whatever chaos Max decided to unleash next.

Life with him was never boring, and you wouldn't have it any other way. . . .

The crisp December air nips at your cheeks as you step out of the car, the familiar rumble of Max's engine fading behind you. You pull your coat tighter, adjusting your beanie, a small smile playing on your lips.

The holidays. A welcome respite from the relentless pressure of the tennis circuit. A chance to breathe, to ground yourself before the Australian Open looms. And, most importantly, time with Max.

He's already by the padel court, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he bounces a ball. Lando and Charles are there too, bickering about something trivial, their usual competitive energy already buzzing.

“Took you long enough, slowpoke,” Max teases, tossing the ball to you.

“Traffic,” you retort, catching it easily. “Besides, someone had to pack the snacks, didn’t they?”

Lando groans dramatically. “Snacks? You brought snacks? This is serious competition, woman!”

You raise an eyebrow, a hint of your on-court persona flickering through. “Oh, I thought this was just a friendly get-together. Unless you’re scared, Lando?”

He splutters, Charles chuckling beside him. “Scared? Of you? Please. Just wait until I unleash my padel prowess.”

Max wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you close. “Don’t listen to him, liefje. We’ll crush them.”

That Dutch endearment always makes you melt, and a genuine smile spreads across your face. He knows exactly how to disarm you.

The game starts, and the air is filled with the thwack of the ball, playful taunts, and the occasional groan of exertion. You and Max move with a practiced synchronicity, years of playing (and bickering) together evident in your easy communication.

Max is surprisingly good at padel, his reflexes honed by years of racing, and you find yourself relying on his power, setting him up for winning shots.

“That’s cheating! You have your wife on your team,” Lando grumbles, wiping sweat from his brow after another point you and Max win.

“Jealous, are we?” you retort, grinning. “Maybe you should find yourself a tennis champion girlfriend.”

Charles snorts. “Good luck with that. Finding someone who can keep up with you is a challenge.”

You playfully shove Charles’ shoulder. “I’m not that intimidating.”

Max squeezes your hand. “Oh, you are. Especially when you give those death stares on court.”

He's right, of course. You can be ruthless. You have to be. The pressure to stay on top is immense, the media constantly scrutinizing every move, every word. The expectation is suffocating sometimes.

Later, as the sun begins to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the court, you’re sitting on the bench, catching your breath.

The score is ridiculously lopsided in yours and Max’s favor. Lando and Charles have conceded defeat, blaming everything from the altitude to the snack selection.

Max sits beside you, his arm draped around your shoulders. “You were amazing out there,” he says, his voice soft. “Like always.”

“So were you,” you reply, leaning into him. “You know, for a race car driver.”

He laughs, a warm, comforting sound. “It's all about reflexes, liefje. And a killer instinct.”

He understands that killer instinct in you, the drive to win, the unwavering focus. He sees it because he possesses it too.

It binds you together, this shared understanding of the relentless pursuit of excellence, the sacrifices required, the price you both pay.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, his eyes searching yours. “With everything… the media, the pressure. Are you okay?”

It's a question he asks often, a constant check-in, a reminder that he’s there, always. It's a tenderness he rarely shows the world, a vulnerability reserved only for you.

You sigh, leaning your head against his shoulder. “It’s tough. The whispers, the judgment… sometimes it feels like I'm living under a microscope.”

“I know,” he says, his voice laced with empathy. “They’re brutal. They try to tear you down because they’re jealous of what you’ve achieved.”

He knows what it’s like to be under that kind of scrutiny, to have every mistake magnified, every victory questioned. He lived it his entire life, his father's relentless expectations and the constant pressure to perform.

You trace a pattern on his jeans with your finger. “It’s different for you, though. You have the car, the team… you’re surrounded by people who support you, who believe in you.”

He takes your hand, his grip firm. “And you don’t?”

You look up at him, your eyes meeting his. “Of course, I do. But it’s… lonely at the top. Everyone wants something from you. It’s hard to know who to trust.”

He understands that too. The isolation that comes with success, the constant questioning of motives.

“You have me,” he says, his voice unwavering. “You always have me. And I know it’s not the same, but Lando and Charles… they care about you too. We all see how hard you work, how much you dedicate yourself to your sport.”

He pulls you closer, his warmth enveloping you. “Don’t let them break you, liefje. You’re stronger than they think. Stronger than you even give yourself credit for.”

His words are like a balm to your soul, a reminder of your strength, your resilience. He sees you, truly sees you, the fierce competitor and the vulnerable woman beneath.

“I know,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “It’s just… sometimes it gets overwhelming.”

He kisses your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment. “Then let me carry some of the weight. That’s what I’m here for.”

The sun has almost completely disappeared, and the air is getting colder. Lando and Charles are packing up their things, their boisterous energy subdued.

“Alright, lovebirds,” Lando calls out. “We’re heading back. You coming?”

You look at Max, a silent question in your eyes.

He squeezes your hand again. “Go. I’ll stay a little longer. I want to watch the stars.”

You nod, knowing he needs the quiet, the solitude. He finds peace in the vastness of the night sky, a reminder that his problems, his pressures, are small in the grand scheme of things.

You stand up, giving Max one last kiss. “I’ll see you back at the house.”

As you walk away, you glance back at him. He’s sitting on the bench, his head tilted back, gazing at the stars. In that moment, he looks so young, so vulnerable.

The weight of the world, the expectations of millions, seem to melt away, leaving only a man searching for solace in the vastness of the universe.

You know you would do anything for him, fight anyone who dared to hurt him. You are his anchor, just as he is yours.

Later that night, you find him on the balcony, wrapped in a blanket, still staring at the stars. You join him, slipping under the blanket, pressing close to his side.

“What are you thinking about?” you ask, your voice soft.

He lets out a long sigh. “Just… everything. The season, the pressure, the expectations.”

You reach out and take his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. “You’re going to be okay, Max. You’re the best. You always have been.”

He turns to you, his eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and tenderness. “And you? Are you going to be okay?”

You smile, a genuine, heartfelt smile. “With you by my side? Always.”

You lean in and kiss him, a long, slow kiss that speaks of years of shared history, of unspoken understanding, of unwavering love.

In that moment, under the vast expanse of the starry sky, you are just two people, connected by a bond that transcends the pressures of fame and the demands of the world.

You are simply Max and you, a team, a partnership, a love that has endured the test of time and the scrutiny of the world. And that, you realize, is all that truly matters. . .

Family Secrets

Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader 

Warnings: dad!Charles, dad!Carlos and dad!Pierre all in one!!, mentions of pregnancy, the Leclerc children are a headache and a half, alcohol and the consumption of, a singular mention of drugs, a very old fashioned way of thinking from Charles’ end, a few swear words, one big happy family. 

Word Count: 3.9k

Author’s Note: thank you to the anons that sent in these asks, this one is for you guys!! thank you to @timetoracewrites for letting me use sofia in here!! 

based on these asks – one // two // three // four // five 

—-

You two had been incredibly blessed your entire lives; you had fallen in love at a young age and got married, you had been fortunate enough to be able to travel the world with your husband, Charles, watching him do what he loved and you were still were able to keep up with your writing, number one seller after the other. 

The first time you got pregnant, it wasn’t planned. Twins in the first go. Your family of two quickly became a family of 4; the two boys making their appearance after a long yet short nine months. 

Gabriel Hervé Leclerc was the older of the boys, born a whopping 12 minutes before his twin, Christopher Jules Leclerc. 

They were troublemakers from the day they were born; they had their father’s eyes, his dimples and smile. 

The family of 4 remained 4 for another 2 years before you found out you were pregnant again. This time you had a baby girl; Eloise Marie Leclerc. 

She too bared great resemblance to her father; the only thing was she has your eyes but his dimples prominent on her little cheeks, her fair skin identical to her father’s. As she got older, you quickly learned that she turned tomato red in the sun like her daddy. 

Even though she was the youngest of the 3 children, she had her brothers (and her father) wrapped around her little finger from day one.  

The kids didn’t stay little forever, you basked in the memories but now they were all grown up. The boys were 19 and your baby girl turned 17 last month. 

You and Eloise were at the nail salon, a regular Friday for the Leclerc women. Pascale usually joins you two, the gossip overflowing between you 3 but she wasn’t able to join you guys today. 

Charles was taking you to an event tonight, some F1 gala that required his presence for a few hours to give out an award. 

You were showing your daughter a colour, asking her which one she liked between but she waved you off, “blue, mom.” She answers, her eyes glued to the phone sitting on her thigh as the woman worked on her left hand. 

“Who’s texting you that you’re so busy you can’t even look up?” 

Eloise looks over at you, her cheeks red. “Anthony.” 

You racked your brain – Anthony ? Who the hell was Anthony? It was like the light bulb turned on when you looked over at her again, a smile on your own face. 

“Anthony as in, Anthony Gasly ?” 

Keep reading

carlos sainz being hopelessly in love: a compilation

GIF by sainzprix

summary: carlos sainz can't help but talk about his girlfriend all the time, fans make compilation videos about it

folkie radio: compilation blurbs are back! honestly i have so much fun doing these and i was dying to do it for carlitossss, hope you enjoy!

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

Carlos Sainz might be known as Formula 1's Smooth Operator, but there's one thing that makes him completely lose his cool: his girlfriend.

While most drivers keep their private lives under wraps, Carlos can't seem to help himself from turning into a lovesick puppy whenever she is mentioned. His teammates often tease him about how his usual composed demeanor melts away at the mere sight of her.

Fan compilations began flooding social media, showing every endearing moment of Carlos being completely smitten. The most popular one, titled "Carlos Sainz Being Hopelessly In Love: A Compilation," gained millions of views across platforms.

The video opens with Carlos walking to the Ferrari garage during media day. "Favorite meal after a race?" the social media guy asks for the team's instagram stories.

"Well, my girlfriend makes this amazing risotto," Carlos grins, adjusting his Ferrari cap, "I used to prefer paella but now… don't tell my mother, but her risotto is unbeatable."

In another clip, Carlos is doing a Ferrari team challenge, asked about his most used emoji.

"The chili emoji," Carlos laughs, "Because that's what I call my girlfriend. My little chili. She's small but spicy."

During a post-race interview after a podium finish: "This one's special because my girlfriend is here today. She couldn't come to many races this season so having her here for a podium means everything."

Another clip shows Carlos arriving at the paddock, his girlfriend walking slightly behind him. A fan calls out asking for a photo, and Carlos immediately reaches back to take her hand, pulling her into the frame with him.

"No no," he says when she tries to step away, "You're part of the photo cariño."

The fans melted, getting the entire interaction on camera.

There's a moment captured by F1TV during a rain delay. Carlos is in the garage, and the camera catches him FaceTiming with his girlfriend who couldn't make it to that race.

"See? It's properly wet," he shows her the track, "But don't worry, I'll be careful. Yes, yes, I promise."

A clip from Ferrari's social media games shows Carlos doing a "Rate or Hate" segment. When shown a picture of breakfast in bed:

"Rate, obviously. My girlfriend makes the best breakfast," he pauses, "Actually, she's going to watch this and know I'm lying. I make breakfast most mornings because she's terrible at waking up early. But she makes great coffee once she's actually awake."

"Mate, don't roast her like that," Charles laughed from beside him.

"She loves me, she doesn't mind." Carlos shrugged

There's footage from a fan in Monaco, catching Carlos and his girl walking their dogs. They don't notice they're being filmed, and Carlos is gesturing animatedly while she laughs, reaching up to wipe something from his face. The natural, unguarded moment became a fan favorite.

During another Ferrari social media video, Carlos is asked about his most played song.

"Oh no," he laughs, "My girlfriend's going to kill me but it's that Taylor Swift song she keeps playing. It's been stuck in my head for weeks. She converted me into a Swiftie, I can't believe it."

A paddock moment caught on camera shows her helping Carlos with his sunscreen before a hot race.

"I burn easily!" Carlos defends when Charles teases him, "She's is just taking care of me. Unlike some teammates…"

During a radio interview, Carlos is asked about living in Monaco.

"The best part is having my girlfriend there," he says, "She's made our house a home. Though she insists on having plants everywhere. I think we have about fifty now? She names them all too."

A casual moment caught by Sky Sports shows Carlos talking to his trainer between sessions. His girlfriend appears with his water bottle, and without interrupting his conversation, Carlos automatically lifts his arm so she can fit against his side.

During a Ferrari team challenge about "Who knows Carlos better?", Charles vs his girlfriend:

"His biggest fear?" the interviewer asks.

"Spiders," she answers immediately.

"That was supposed to be a secret!" Carlos protests.

"Mi amor, everyone knows since you made me catch that spider in the motorhome while you stood on a chair."

There's a sweet moment from Carlos' birthday celebration at a race weekend. The Ferrari team surprises him with a cake, and the camera catches his girlfriend helping him blow out the candles.

"What did you wish for?" someone asks.

"I already have everything I need," Carlos responds, his arm around her.

The compilation includes a clip where Carlos is doing simulator work, completely focused, until his girlfriend brings him coffee. Without taking his eyes off the screen, he reaches for her hand and kisses it in thanks.

One of the most shared clips shows Carlos after a difficult race where he DNF'd. He's clearly frustrated in the garage, but the camera catches his girlfriend quietly approaching him. She doesn't say anything, just takes his hand, and you can see his shoulders immediately relax.

The final clip shows Carlos at a racing podcast, responding to a question about handling public attention as a couple.

"We try to keep things private, but it's natural to want to share your happiness sometimes. She understands this world, she supports me unconditionally, and that makes everything easier. Though she does make fun of me when I take too long choosing my race day outfit."

The compilation ends with text reading: "Find someone who's hopelessly in love with you as Carlos is with his girlfriend."

•·.·''·.·• F1 MASTER LIST •·.·''·.·•

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

S E B A S T I A N V E T T E L

•·.·''·.·• A shared History , Part 2 , Part 3•·.·''·.·•

(fluff)

Moments that Sebastian Vettel and Y/N have shared throughout their careers together both on and off track. Sebastian Vettel x fem!driver!reader

•·.·''·.·• Looking at her •·.·''·.·•

(fluff, suggestive at the end)

Reader has grown to love the feeling of Sebastian’s eyes on her but not everyone understands. Sebastian Vettel x shy!girlfriend!reader

•·.·''·.·• Come back to me •·.·''·.·•

(angst, fluff)

Sebastian’s world is turned upside down when he finds out the reason behind the red flag, the aftermath is just as torturous as the moment he got the news.Sebastian Vettel x wife!driver!reader

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

K I M I R Ä I K K Ö N E N

•·.·''·.·• The Icebreaker •·.·''·.·•

(fluff)

It never fails to amaze the formula one community just how much of a difference there is in Kimi’s attitude whenever his wife is around. Kimi Räikkönen x Fem!Wife!Reader

•·.·''·.·• Silent Admiration , Part 2 •·.·''·.·•

(Implied age gap, fluff)

Kimi’s got some deep feelings for the reader but plans to do what he does best, keep silent. Until, Sebastian manages to persuade him that maybe melting his icy exterior might work in his favour. Kimi Räikkönen x Fem!Driver!Reader.

•·.·''·.·• Protective Shield •·.·''·.·•

(fluff, mistreatment of women)

You always have a smile on your face, even through the struggles of being the only female driver but when it feels like the entire media is against you it’s hard to keep that smile on your face but Kimi won’t allow it to disappear, he’s always there protecting you. Protective!Kimi x Sunshine!driver!reader

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

J E N S O N B U T T O N

Pending….

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M A R K W E B B E R

Pending….

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M A X V E R S T A P P E N

Pending….

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C H A R L E S L E C L E R C

Pending….

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C A R L O S S A I N Z

Pending….

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

O S C A R P I A S T R I

Pending….

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

L A N D O N O R R I S

Pending….

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

F E R N A N D O A L O N S O

Pending….

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

G E O R G E R U S S E L L

Pending….

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T O T O W O L F F

•·.·''·.·• No longer his •·.·''·.·•

(angst, heartbreak)

Toto now has to face the consequences of his actions that tore your family apart. Toto Wolff x Ex!wife!reader

•·.·''·.·• Tame the Wolff •·.·''·.·•

(angry Toto)

A few scenarios in which Toto is angry and frustrated and you’re there to calm him down and save his poor team from his wrath. Angry!Toto Wolff x Calm!Wife!reader

•·.·''·.·• Broken Decisions , Part 2•·.·''·.·•

(angst, light smut, heartbreak, pregnancy trope)

The news of Toto Wolff divorcing from Susie has just hit the media and you, Michael Schumacher’s eldest daughter and George Russel’s race engineer, are beyond shocked, even more so as your relationship with your boss begins to evolve. Divorced!Toto Wolff x fem!engineer!Schumacher!reader

•·.·''·.·• Take it easy •·.·''·.·•

(fluff)

Your stubbornness to admit you may be feeling unwell might just be your downfall one day but your husband will always be there to catch you, as will your son. Toto Wolff x Wife!reader

•·.·''·.·• Clingy Boys •·.·''·.·•

(fluff)

It’s both yours and Toto’s day off but both your boys are sick and wanting your attention. Clingy!Sick!Toto Wolff x Wife!reader

•·.·''·.·• Caught In the Act •·.·''·.·•

(fluff, teasing)

The stresses of work have your mind running a million miles an hour but your husband knows how to slow it down.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The Queen of Romantasy and the Race Car Prince - Chapter 2

Pairing: Lando Norris x Elizabeth "Lizzie" Treshton (Original Character)

Summary:

Elizabeth Treshton—bestselling romantasy author, queen of fae heartbreak, and sworn devotee of a carefully structured routine—never expected her service dog to abandon protocol and diagnose a Formula 1 driver with something. But that’s exactly what happens when Mara the wonder-dog ditches Lizzie’s side to aggressively alert to none other than Lando Norris in the middle of a coffee shop.

Warnings and Notes: 

Mention of epilepsy, seizures and service animals. I don't myself suffer from epilepsy, so I asked my IRL friend, who thankfully was nice enough to let me ask her all the questions I could come up with. The rest I asked Reddit. So everything that's wrong...that's totally my fault and not on purpose.

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

By the time Lizzie heard the knock on her door, she was almost regretting inviting Lando over.

Not because she didn’t want to see him—she did. But because she was still exhausted, her limbs felt like lead, and she hadn’t had the energy to change into anything more presentable than this.

Which was how she found herself standing in front of her door, dressed in sweatpants and a vintage Ferrari hoodie that was older than both of them, trying to summon the will to care.

She pulled the door open, and there he was—Lando Norris, grinning at her like she hadn’t texted him less than 6 hours ago to say, Hey, I had a seizure, so can we not do the fancy restaurant thing?

“Hey,” he said, then his eyes dropped to her hoodie. His expression morphed into pure betrayal. “You—Lizzie.” He pointed. “Is that—is that a Ferrari hoodie?”

She crossed her arms, ignoring the amusement bubbling in her chest. “It was my dad’s.”

“That doesn’t make it better,” Lando said, still staring at it like it personally offended him. “It makes it worse. It’s, like, vintage blasphemy.”

Lizzie rolled her eyes and stepped aside to let him in. “You’re in my apartment. You don’t get to insult my clothes.”

“I absolutely do.”

“You really don’t.”

"You literally live in Woking," Lando said darkly as he stepped into her apartment. "A stone throw away from the MTC!"

Lizzie rolled her eyes once more, closing the door behind him. "And I'm still a Ferrari girl at heart."

Lando groaned, shaking his head. "You're breaking my heart here, you know that?"

"Is now the time to mention that Mara is also named after Ferrari?" she asked with a grin, as he followed her into the kitchen and sat down a grocery bag on the counter.

Lando blinked. "How is Mara named after Ferrari?" he asked her.

"Well, Mara is short for Maranello," Lizzie said brightly.

Lando's mouth fell open. "You have got to be kidding me," he said, staring at her. "Your dog is named after Ferrari headquarters?"

Lizzie just smiled, not even trying to hold back her amusement. "Yep," she said, popping the p on the word.

"First the hoodie, then the dog... what's next, a Vettel tattoo?" Lando asked her with a sigh.

"I mean, I was considering it," Lizzie said, completely deadpan.

For a moment, Lando actually looked worried. "You're joking, right? Please tell me you're joking."

Lizzie cackled, a deep, full-belly laugh. "Relax, Lando. I'm kidding."

His shoulders sagged. "You're an evil woman. An actual evil woman."

"What is even in there?" she asked with a nod to the grocery bags.

Lando smirked. “Backup nuggets.”

Lizzie frowned. “Backup nuggets?”

“In case yours suck.”

Lizzie snorted. “Wow. True trust issues.”

Lando grinned, but there was something softer behind it. She felt it when he looked at her for just a second too long.

She shoved the nuggets into the oven before he could say anything annoying about it.

"I also brought ice cream. I didn't know what you like..."

"Vanilla," she said immediately.

"Vanilla it is," he agreed. "Where's Mara by the way?"

Lizzie's eyes darted down the hallway. "She's probably passed out in the living room, honestly," she said. "Dad said she barely left my side last night, poor thing. Probably wore herself out."

Lando winced. "I can imagine. Must've been pretty freaked out, huh?"

Lizzie nodded. "She kept licking my face. Apparently they do that to wake you up when you have a seizure."

For a moment, his gaze softened, and he looked at her thoughtfully. "You don't get hurt, right? When you have a seizure, I mean."

"Generally, no," Lizzie said, "I might accidentally bite my tongue, and I'm usually sore and tired after, but I don't get hurt."

Lando nodded, but she could see the concern still lingering on his face. "But you're okay now?" he asked quietly.

Lizzie managed to bite back her smile. "I'm fine, Lando. I promise. This really is normal for me."

His head dipped. "You're sure?"

She softened, touched by the worry in his voice. "I'm sure," she said gently. "No need to look so serious, pretty boy."

“Excuse me, I’m not pretty.” He objected with a disgusted expression.

Lizzie snorted. “Yeah, you aren’t if you pull a face like that.” She shot back immediately.

“Excuse me, that’s not very nice!”

“Mate, make up your mind,” Lizzie said with a snort. “I say you are pretty, you disagree. I say you aren’t, you also disagree. What are you then?”

“I am ruggedly handsome,” he told her seriously.

She could only stare at him.

“If you somehow manage to grow a beard, then, maybe. But with that clean-shaven look you have going on right now? Not in a million years. You’re pretty, and that’s that.”

Lando's eyes widened, taken aback. "Did you just—" he spluttered. "Did you just insult my ability to grow facial hair and then go and call me pretty in the same breath?"

"I absolutely did," Lizzie said, barely able to hold back her grin. "What are you gonna do about it, pretty boy?"

What she hadn't expected was for him to advance and corner her against her kitchen counter.

She froze, eyes wide, her heart suddenly thumping in her chest. Lando planted one hand on either side of the counter, caging her in.

He leaned in, his face inches from hers, expression still tinged with faux offense.

And his eyes...she could spent a whole book describing their colour and Lizzie was quite sure that it was going to fall short. Even in the dim light of her kitchen, they shifted from blue to green and back.

The intensity of his gaze was almost unbearable. Lizzie's mind went completely blank, and she found herself staring at him, a flutter of nervous energy coursing through her like electricity.

Lando was so close now that she could feel the warmth of his breath against her skin. She was suddenly hyper-aware of every nerve in her body, like this new, intimate proximity had set her senses on fire.

Lizzie wasn't even sure who moved first.

All she knew was that suddenly, his lips were on hers. The kiss started gently, almost tentatively. But something shifted in an instant.

It became hungrier, more desperate, like a dam had burst. Lizzie couldn't help herself; her arms wrapped around Lando's shoulders and pulled him closer, every part of her body pressed against his.

One of his hands threaded into her hair, angling her head to get better access, and she made a small, needy sound in the back of her throat. Her fingers curled into the soft cotton of his shirt, clutching at it as she kissed him back, dizzy with the feel of him.

Oh. 

Oh. 

Lando groaned, the sound reverberating through her. His free hand slid beneath her hoodie, seeking out the bare skin of her waist.

Her own hands moved over his back, desperate and urgent. The kiss turned hotter, less controlled as her world narrowed to this, to him, to the intoxicating feeling of his body against hers.

And then the sound of the oven timer beeped. Loudly. She jerked in his grasp, managing to make one of her cookbooks clatter down onto the floor.

A second later, Mara was barelling into the room, clearly thinking that she had had a seizure and destroyed her house.

Lizzie and Lando sprung apart, both of them flushed and more than a little breathless.

Lizzie couldn’t help it; she burst into a fit of giggles, watching Mara skid across the linoleum.

"I'm fine, Mara," she said through her laughter. Her dog whined, clearly not convinced.

Lando was looking like a deer in headlights, his cheeks flushed and his hair messed up from her fingers. He stared at her as if he'd never seen her before, and she bit her lip to keep herself from grinning like an idiot.

"We should rescue the dino nuggets," Lizzie suggested.

Lando still looked stunned. "Right - yeah - nuggets-" he said, blinking.

Lizzie chuckled and knelt down to pat Mara to reassure her. The dog was practically whining with worry, licking her face and nudging her. Lizzie gently pushed her back in an attempt to give herself some space.

"I think you traumatized my dog," she said, looking up at him with a smirk.

He scratched the back of his head, still endearingly awkward. "Sorry," he said sheepishly. "I wasn't exactly...thinking when..."

She just shook her head, grinning. "Maybe we should focus on rescuing those dino nuggets, don't you think, pretty boy?"

He swallowed, glancing at her briefly before nodding. "Yeah. Nuggets."

Lizzie pushed herself off the floor, giving Mara's head a final pat before she headed over to the oven. Lando joined her in the kitchen, his gaze flickering to her every other second. Lizzie took the plate from the oven, setting it down on the stove top.

"They look fine," she said, inspecting the slightly-singed edges of the nuggets. "All things considered."

Lando leaned against the counter beside her. "Great," he said, but his voice was still a little unsteady.

She shot him a sideways glance, amused by the way his gaze kept dropping to her mouth.

"Was that..." he trailed off and she watched to see a slight blush cover his cheeks.

"What?" she asked, hiding a smile. He was even more adorable when he was embarrassed.

He cleared his throat, looking vaguely flustered. "That was okay, right?"

And just like that, her own cheeks grew warm. They'd just made out in her kitchen, and now he was asking her if... if it was okay?

She studied him, taking in the pink hue on his face. There was something so vulnerable about the way he was looking at her. It was like he couldn't believe it had happened, and now he was scared he had overstepped.

"It was..." she began, only stopping to consider her words."...pretty incredible."

Relief flickered across Lando's face. "Yeah?" he said, a hint of the cocky demeanor returning. "You liked it, then?"

In response, Lizzie just rolled her eyes, pushing the plate of dino nuggets towards him to end the conversation before he could say anything else.

"Try a damn nugget."

Lando raised an eyebrow, but his smile grew even wider as he picked up a nugget from the plate. "Bossy."

She just rolled her eyes again, biting back a laugh. "Eat your nugget before I regret telling you that I liked it."

He chuckled and popped the nugget into his mouth. "Not bad," he said, still grinning.

Lizzie found herself returning the smile. He was impossible.

But then again, she thought as she looked at him, she supposed she wouldn't want him any other way.

"Let's take this to the living room," she suggested.

"So is there even more Ferrari merch there?" Lando asked her. She just rolled her eyes.

"Not Ferrari merch, no," she said drily. “I keep that in the bedroom.” Lando gave a squawk in response. She just laughed. 

Did her living room kinda look like the set of a fantasy movie had thrown up all over it? Yes. 

She had a near life size portrait of Astrid and Ciaran, the main characters of her book series hung over her fireplace, which an amazingly talented fan artist had painted and she had purchased.

Lando was staring at the portrait with something close to amusement. He turned to her, eyebrow raised. "Okay, so who is that guy, and why does he have bat wings?"

Lizzie sighed, taking a seat on the large couch that dominated the room. "That would be Ciaran. Bat wings and all."

Lando took a seat beside her, still eyeing the portrait suspiciously. "And who exactly is Ciaran supposed to be?"

"He is the Dark Prince...The Heir to the throne of the land of Kasharia," she said with a wave of her hand. "He's the love interest in the Seasons of Fate Series."

Lando's eyebrows shot up, turning back to the portrait, studying it with more interest this time. "And the Wings are his thing, I'm guessing? Makes him the 'Dark Prince'?"

Lizzie bit her lip to keep a laugh from escaping. "Basically."

"Right, right." He was nodding now. "What about the woman, then? Blondie with the dagger?"

Lizzie found herself smiling, remembering the story behind that particular piece of art. "That would be Astrid," she said.

Lando looked like he was starting to put pieces together. He leaned back on the couch, eyes on the portrait once more. "And Astrid is, what? The princess or something?"

"She's a handmaiden of the Princess of another kingdom he's supposed to marry," she explained with a wave of her hand. "She ends up married to Ciaran instead."

Lando was nodding along as Lizzie described it, a look of fascination on his face. "Oh, so it's like one of those forbidden romance deals, huh?" he asked, sounding surprisingly invested.

"In a sense, yeah," she agreed, finding herself amused by his interest. "You seem surprisingly interested in this, considering you thought the wings were over the top a minute ago."

Lando shot her a look, his eyes twinkling. "Hey, I can appreciate a good love story, can't I? Besides, million of people adore your books. There must be something pretty special about them."

Lizzie felt a surge of warmth in her chest at his words. It still surprised her, at times, how much her books meant to people.

Lizzie felt a surge of warmth in her chest at his words. It still surprised her, at times, how much her books meant to people.

"I don't know about that, but people seem to enjoy them," she said lightly. "Still thinking you are going to pick one up?" she teased him with a grin.

"It’s probably gonna take me two months to get through the first book, between my schedule and my dyslexia, but the bat wings have totally sold it," Lando told her seriously.

She couldn't help but laugh at that, the sound bubbling up uncontrollably. The idea of Lando, who was about as far from a fantasy fan as you could get, actually trying to read one of her books was too absurd. "You are absolutely not going to read one of my books," she said, grinning.

"Hey, I could!" he objected with mock offense. "Don't underestimate me."

Lizzie shook her head, still laughing. "I'm not underestimating you. But let's be honest, you've got better things to do with your time than read about bat winged princes and handmaiden."

"Don't you have better things to do than too watch 20 men in their cars drive around in wobbly circles?" he shot right back. "You created these books. You poured your time and energy into them. I don't think there are many things that are more important than that." 

Lizzie fell silent, taken off guard by his words. He had a point, she thought.

"I suppose you have a point there," she admitted quietly.

Lando seemed pleased with himself, his cocky demeanor falling back into place. "See? I do have some smarts in there."

She rolled her eyes but couldn't keep the smile off her face. "You are insufferable, you know that? Besides, what's with your job," she teased him. "Isn't Miami coming up?"

Lando just snorted. "Yeah, we are all looking forward to hear the Dutch national anthem. Again."

Lizzie chuckled, picturing the familiar sight of the podium at a Grand Prix - the winning driver and the Dutch and Austrian anthems playing. "You are so dramatic. Maybe you'll win in Miami."

He gave her a look, his expression clearly communicating that he thought her words were ridiculous. "Uh-huh. You obviously don't know my luck. Second place is basically my second name."

Lizzie laughed, finding his complaining endearing despite herself. "You sound like Mara when I have a treat, but don't give it to her. Stop whining. Second place is still impressive as all hell, you know that right?"

Mara perked up at the mention of her name and took that moment to jump up on the couch, and once again, not caring at all about personal space, just drape herself all over Lando.

Lando looked startled, his gaze flying down to where Mara was settling onto his lap. "Uh..." he said, his voice full of confusion.

Lizzie tried not to crack a smile at the way he looked like he'd never encountered a dog before. Mara, meanwhile, looked incredibly pleased with herself.

Lando looked up at Lizzie, his expression a comical mix of disbelief and alarm. "What...what is she doing?" he asked, clearly bewildered.

Lizzie couldn't help herself; she burst out laughing. "She likes you," she managed to say through her mirth. "Clearly a woman of excellent taste."

Lando gave her a dubious look, clearly not sure if he was being insulted or not. Then Mara shifted in his lap and let out a happy sigh, and he looked back down at her. Lizzie could see the exact moment he melted. No man was immune to dogs.

"I'll go against my core beliefs and root for the ugly orange car with your number on it if you promise me that you'll believe that you have a chance of winning."

Lando shot her a look, a little surprised at her request. Then his familiar cocky smirk spread across his face.

"You'll root for papaya? Over Ferrari?"

Lizzie just nodded. "As long as that big ego of yours lets you believe you can win," she said dryly.

matchmaker pets (mv1) | pt3

pairing: max verstappen x fem!reader

summary: in a world where one's furry best friend is secretly their cupid, the drivers' love lives are sure to be entertaining for everyone (written from the pov of the pets!)

warnings: none (i think)

wc: 1011

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young!jimmy and sassy who max names after two of monaco's clubs, jimmy'z and sass cafe.

young!jimmy and sassy who rarely ever grace max's social media, let alone visit the paddock. their presence is like a once-in-a-lifetime comet for almost everyone.

young!jimmy and sassy who live a life of lavish opulence in max’s penthouse apartment. they are arguably some of the most pampered cats in the world, free to rule over the kingdom that is max’s bachelor’s pad. 

young!jimmy and sassy who however, do need a caretaker; someone to watch over them whilst max is away, winning races and fighting for championships across the globe.

that’s you :)

unruly!jimmy and sassy at first, are of course hesitant about your newfound presence in their home (i mean it is their domain after all).

unruly!jimmy and sassy who meow and hiss at you when you come too close to them, muttering about your weird aroma and uncanny ability to accidentally knock over their feeding bowl every time you open the door.

unruly!jimmy and sassy who love snatching things out of your handbag, sometimes too happy to see it lying out in the open before sticking their noses in and rummaging around

unruly!jimmy and sassy who like to sit on the dining table, watching you do some work on your laptop. eventually, they’re so bored, they’ll lay across your laptop, conveniently stopping you from completing work, before nodding off to sleep.

adorable!jimmy and sassy who however, eventually warm up to you, once they find out with a few cute meows and yawns, they have you wrapped around their tiny little paws.

you’re practically obsessed with them

(and their owner, but he doesn’t need to know that either)

adorable!jimmy and sassy who leverage this for snacks and cuddles, which you’re all too happy to give and spoil them with

adorable!jimmy and sassy who even max considers to have grown a bit fatter and more lazy after the first couple of overseas races, but he lets it slide 

(for now)

older!jimmy and sassy who eventually grow so fond and love your presence, that they consider you their mum

older!jimmy and sassy who refuse to be looked after by anyone else other than you.

older!jimmy and sassy who get to yowling loudly on the days where you’re too busy to come in to sit for max, and are now forced to be strictly supervised by some random person

cheeky!jimmy and sassy who team up to make the “caretakers” lives’ hell. they refuse to ever work with the pair again (much to their delight).

cocky!jimmy who eagerly convinces sassy to start scratching up max’s apartment, including his couch (which he doesn’t sit on) and his sim racing chair (which he does sit on)...

shameless!sassy who manages to sometimes manage to lock the caretaker outside on max’s balcony, forcing them to call the driver (who also doesn’t answer for numerous hours), before resorting to calling the emergency services

cheeky!jimmy and sassy who cause an absolute ruckus when you’re not with them

cheeky!jimmy and sassy who are perfect saints and angels whenever you come over. they don’t touch a single thing, they eat and drink whenever you call them over, they love lounging in your lap, purring contently as you rub their backs and cuddle them

how could they possibly be two terrible troublemakers? 

even at the beginning, they were just two little cats who wanted to play with you, not cause mass destruction

cheeky!jimmy and sassy who manage to make max employ you almost full time, begging you to tame them and save him the headache.

cheeky!jimmy and sassy who now needs to get you add max officially together, considering that they are basically your children, and you’re employed almost full time.

cheeky!jimmy and sassy who have also seen max’s wandering eyes when you’re lounging in his home in a very casual outfit 

(still respectful of course, but definitely not the uptight business casual you were wearing the first time you met) 

and your lip bites watching max flex his back muscles as he reaches up to the top cabinets for the cat treats

(which you definitely didn’t put there on purpose)

naughty cupid!jimmy and sassy who relies upon a tried and true romancing method: trapping you in a locked room (as tested very professionally by sassy that one time)

naughty cupid!jimmy and sassy who manage to get you and max to each chase one of them into a closet room, before conveniently knocking over a broom, wedging the door shut.

“max?” you whisper in the silence, the room barely illuminated by the light seeping through the gap at the bottom of the door.

“yeah?” he responds, his warm breath far too close to your face to even think.

“d-did the cats j-just lock us in here?” you laugh nervously, trying to reach into your pocket for your phone.

unexpectedly, you brush something firm near your leg, and you hear max’s hiss as you accidently move past it again. he mumbles something to you, but even with the heart-pounding close distance, you ask him to speak up again

“you’re not grabbing what you think you are, lifeje,” he groans, snatching your wrists and slamming them into the wall behind your back.

“don’t do it again unless you me to do something about it,”

“oh…but i do,” you smirk, before yanking your wrists out, and pushing him back. even in the dim lights, you can see him lick his lips, as you climb on top of his thick thighs…

purrfect!jimmy and sassy who after about two hours greet charles at the door of max’s apartment, looking very pleased with themselves

purrfect!jimmy and sassy (and charles) who see you and max tumble out of the closet, clothes slightly dishevelled and hickies splotched across your necks. 

“i’m not going to even ask now,” charles sighs and side-eyes the pair of them, but was it really all that bad?

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@charlesgirl16

© the-flanuer || do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platform.

stages of promises ; charles leclerc

— summary; in which your childhood friend promised to marry you if you’re both single when you turn 25. However, somewhere between the lines of social media and reality, he gets lost in how he feels.

pairing — charles leclerc x baker-childhood-friend!f. reader ( third person story )

word count — 2840.

content — coming of age romance(?) all the times when everything goes south from Charles plans of letting you live your life yet he can never stop that feeling from growing within him. his subtle promises made.

NAVIGATION + author’s note: really like this one where he comes to terms with his feelings through each stage of the relationship, love when men realise they’re more in love than ever.

PROMISE ME WE’LL GET married if we’re still single when we turn twenty five. Those were the exact words Charles had promised when they were sixteen. Young, foolish and innocent but he thought that’d be the best idea and she would always agree with whatever Charles said.

I know I made this promise but I hope you live your life and I live my life, don’t want you feeling trapped. And those were the exact words Charles had mumbled under his breath that night of their wedding. On the same mattress, under the same duvet yet of a different mindset. She barely hummed in reply, tears cascading down her cheeks which symbolised everything unsaid.

It wasn’t like this was a foreign feeling, that same feeling of unrequited love always lingered in the air when they were together. Since they were six, she swore there’d be no one else but him and she thanked her lucky stars when she was sixteen for this marriage pact he came up with for where she is today.

She knew she’d never get anything out of this but it was better than losing him to say the most. Truly, she’d rather be confined in a marriage with him which could blossom hopefully. Yet hearing him draw the lines between them, for the sake of themselves, despite expecting it took a small jab at her feelings.

Hopefully everything changes and they make something out of this though, right?

— I.

Home baking felt as if it was home making, all those aromas became a part of her life as much as fresh air and sunshine when she picked it up one day. Donning her favourite light oatmeal coloured apron, her hair in a bun yet strands escaped from the sides. As the hours passed, tune by tune as the radio sang along, the piles of cinnamon buns grew. It was the same as mess, only the good sort she supposed, the edible sort that makes people happy.

The savoury smell of cinnamon lingers in the air whilst the cinnamon buns had risen from their muffin pan casings like unfurled telescopes. Inside the delicate swirl of butter-rich dough were apple chunks coated in the cinnamon sugar. Before they'd been out of the oven a full minute there was an empty spot in the tray and Charles was nowhere to be seen or had he been home when she was too engrossed in the process of baking her other batch? She shrugged, taking her theft as a compliment.

She heard the shuffling of his footsteps, probably smelling the new batch of cinnamon buns fresh out of the oven. “Mia Cara, you’re baking a lot today, what’s up with that?” That had always been his nickname for her, despite the way he had drawn the line between them, he still insists she’s the prettiest woman he had ever seen.

Charles hovered over the next batch of buns, eyeing each of them with his jaw slightly agape. “I thought I could bring your friends some freshly baked buns instead of those one-two days cookies when we have to fly. Since we’re all in Monaco, it’ll be fresher than ever.”

He looks up from the tray, gazing at her with furrowed eyebrows with curiosity written all over his face. “They could just get them from the bakeries, why do you have to bake them personally?” He inches his hand towards the buns but she slapped them away before he could steal another one. “Because they personally said they love my pastries, especially Oscar. Of course I have to personally bake them with love.”

Charles grits his teeth, his eyebrows furrowing more than before. “I tell you I love your pastries but you hardly bake my favourites for me.” He murmurs, thinking she wouldn’t hear his incoherent speech. “I wanted to bake some croissants but I guess I’m not feeling it anymore.” She teased, a giggle hidden in her throat where she faked coughing to cover it up. “No, absolutely not! When we come home from dinner later, you’ll feel the motivation to bake my favourites! You bake for my friends but not for your husband? Crazy, really.”

— II.

In the dark room, even the ticking had a relaxed feeling, as if it was a heart-beat at rest. She felt as if the air moved like cool water and the aroma of her cypress and cedarwood scented candles infused her far more deeply than it did in the light of day. The dining table strewn with numbered plastic bags, sorted out lego pieces and instruction booklets at a corner.

Lego had always been one of her hobbies, it probably was developed from all those architectural designing and interior designing. Being on study break right now means that she has a whole day or two to herself to complete the new Lego set Charles’ friend, Lando, had gotten her in return for her cinnamon buns from last weekend.

“Honey, I’m home!” Charles singsongs, it had been a habit of his when she moved in with him a little over a year ago. His heavy footsteps ricocheted through the hallway and made a beeline for her. “New Lego set again?” He sits in the chair opposite hers, putting away the opened plastic bags that were empty. “Mhm, Lando got me this one.”

She gazes up at him, her eyes creasing into crescents while giving him the sweetest smile ever that almost swept him off his feet. “Who got you what? Am I hearing this right, Lando got you a Lego set? Please repeat whatever you just said, I fear I might have misheard you.” He rambles, eyes almost popping out of their sockets and his hands by his cheeks resembling the shock emoji.

“Nope, you’re hearing that right. Lando got me this set. Look, it's so cool!” She points towards the box of the Porsche 911 set, her eyes beaming with excitement and completely disregarding him for his shock. “You could have asked me to get you this, why is Lando getting you stuff?” Charles huffed with his arms folded across his chest, yearning for her action again.

“He said it was in repayment for the cinnamon buns I made, told me to bake more if I wanted more Lego sets. I said okay.” He swore he could jump off right there and there from the balcony of his apartment. “Yeah no not happening, I can get you Lego’s too. Next time just ask me, it shouldn’t be my mates getting my wife things. Let’s go, get dressed. We’re going to get you whatever Lego set you want right now.”

— III.

Charles never thought he would ever come across negative comments of his relationship when scrolling through social media aimlessly. Tweets ranged from Charles acts like he doesn’t love or care about his wife, they’re barely seen together anywhere even in the paddock to outrageous comments saying Yn leave him, I can treat you better!!!

What was up with people commenting about his relationship? A part of him worried that he hadn’t been treating her as how a husband should have yet to be fair this marriage wasn’t out of love but more of a promise to her. Despite that, his mother had always taught him manners and righteousness and he wasn’t going to treat her any less than a wife.

He didn’t like the feeling growing within him, that feeling of guilt eating him alive like he hadn’t treated her well. Or did he not and thought he was all this time? Charles watches as she sat on the left of him on the couch, her eyes glued to her device with a smile never leaving her face. He clears his throat, drawing her attention to him whilst he rested her feet on his thighs. “I have a question.”

She eyed him with suspicion as to why he was acting strange just to have a question answered yet she nodded in response either way. “Do you… Have you ever felt like you’ve been mistreated? Okay maybe not mistreated, more of how I haven’t treated you like my wife. Okay maybe mistreated is the word.”

Her back straightened, staring right at him without batting an eyelash. “Are you insane?” Those words that left her mouth had instead been a surprise for Charles yet he found relief within those three words. “Are you insane? We’ve been friends since forever and you’re asking a question like that out of nowhere?” His arms flailed in the air at her question, shrugging it away. “I’m not talking friendship wise, like the past year as a husband?”

At the least expected time possible, she giggles at his response. Charles swore his heart swelled and every nook and crevices of his heart felt so full. “Charles, you said that we should live our own life. Why should how you treat me matter? But to answer your question, I don’t think there’s any day you make me feel less than a wife although this was your promise.”

Hearing her words made his heart settle a little, his shoulders relaxed which he didn’t even know was tense before. “Yeah good, that’s what I was aiming for. Still wanna make sure you get the proper treatment as my wife, you know Mia Cara?” Her response only came in a form of smile which displayed the matching dimples they both had, equally of depth. “Stop reading those tweets, I know Charles.”

— IV.

The crowd is a river of people, everyone moving in the same direction. There are only joyful faces as we head toward the stadium for the greatest Cigarettes After Sex concert on earth. Music to fill them chock full of adrenaline pumping happiness. They move not like pebbles in a jar, but like water molecules flowing smoothly past one another, lovers staying together with fingers entwined.

Being in Abu Dhabi and attending a music festival was a foreign experience for Charles, so he stood by his wife with their hands entwined in his pocket. “Mia Cara, isn’t this your favourite band? The one you play all day long at home?” He leaned forward to her ear, the hot air of his fanning her neck. “They’re so good, right?”

Charles hums in reply, being able to listen to her favourite band live with her made everything better. “I love it if you love it.” He mumbles, craning his head away and brings a hand to rub his nape and focuses his attention back on the last song of the band playing live. “Do you feel the raindrops or is it just me?”

At once there came a flash mob of rain, Charles cursed internally at the fact that he didn’t have an umbrella with him. He should have known to bring one especially when the music festival was an open concept one. “Mia Cara, we have to go. I don’t have an umbrella with me.” She nods in agreement while Charles pulls her closer, in hopes of shielding her from the rain and making their way towards his car.

“Wait for me in the car yeah? I’ll be right back.” He hovers over her, buckling her seatbelt and tucked her in with the sweater he always had lying in his car. His hands running to increase the temperature of the air conditioner, brushing his lips across her forehead. “Keep the door locked, I’ll be back before you know it.”

And truly before she knows, he’s back with a paper bag in his hands and a completely different outfit. Charles slides into his driver seat, handing the paper bag to her. “Got us a new change of clothes, I’ll stop by the nearest toilet so you can get change. Don’t want you to fall sick and catch a cold.”

She rummaged through the paper bag, looking at the outfit exactly the same as the one Charles is donning. “Is this a matching outfit or?” Her eyebrows cocked up, looking at him with a small grin. “Eh no, it’s just the same colour and design, you know? I got it from the same department store.”

A small chuckle escaped her lips at his lousy excuse, anyone looking at the outfit would have known it was a matching piece. “Mhm sure, everything you say is right, yeah?” Charles grumbles a response, a huff leaving him. “Yeah whatever.”

— V.

Charles returning to an apartment completely engulfed in darkness with the air so still has never been a thing. There would always be light in the entrance hallway she turned on before going to bed or the living room lights turned on and her playlist on shuffle if she hadn’t fallen asleep.

Half past eleven at night, she couldn’t have been asleep could she? For all he knew, she had never been one to be asleep this early. Or maybe she had been too tired today. He padded towards their bedroom where the door was left wide open and there’s no one found in their bed.

The sound of the door closing has him running back towards the entrance of their apartment. There she stood with her hair let down, one of his favourite black skim dresses of hers, a surprise look written all over her face. “You’re back early today.” She pats at his shoulder, walking past him to the living room where she thumped on the couch.

“Where have you been?” Charles questioned as he took a seat beside her, worry laced in his voice. “Had dinner with an old friend of mine.” He watches as her eyes flutter, her chest rising and falling evenly. “Your old friend is my old friend, why didn’t they ask me out too?”

“Yeah about that, don’t think he knows you…” His hands flew up to his cheeks, rubbing his face with his palms and letting out a sigh. “Sorry did you just say he? Look I’m not tryna restrict who you go out with but at least let me know yeah? But he? A he? An old friend could be an old flame” Charles lets himself ramble and ramble, his hands throwing all sorts of signs with his speech.

“Charles, we just had dinner and afterwards a coffee to catch up. He’s married and a father to twins…” Her voice trails off, watching his expression fall when he realises everything he had just rambled about. “Oh, I never said anything. I don’t know why you’re explaining yourself to me but I appreciate it. Just let me know next time, okay?”

And she truly appreciates his worry about her wellbeing but there’s a small part of her that wonders if it was because of a different reason. “Why are you so worried, I can look out for my own safety.” He bites at his bottom lips, grumbling to himself at her question. “Because you’re my wife and I don’t want you getting hurt or stuff. Neither should you be on a date with someone else who isn’t me.”

The giggle that escapes her rolled about the room like a child's spinning top, vibrant and heart warming as it moved around the people in its chaotic way. Her giggle was a stone bouncing across a glossy lake, creating ripples of mirth where there had been none, warming Charles’ soul. “You’re jealous?”

“What? No?” He holds both his hands up in surrender, as if being accused of a crime yet he seemed guilty of doing so. She cocks an eyebrow up at him, questioning him with her gaze. “I wouldn’t call it jealousy, I just don’t wanna share what’s mine with others. You know?”

“So jealousy, that is?” He runs his hand through her disheveled hair, groans a response instead of using his words as he couldn’t formulate one. “It’s okay I get you Charles, I understand you.”

“Good because I don’t want you dating anyone else but me. I love you enough for the both of us, you’re not going anywhere without me.”

I love you, always. Those were the exact words Charles had said that night, the three words she had been yearning to hear from him. On the same mattress, under the same duvet and of the same mindset.

I have loved you since we were five. There hasn’t been anyone else but you, Charles. This was a foreign feeling to her, the feeling of your unrequited love turned to requited love. She thanked the lucky stars for how her life turns out despite the ups and downs.

And there’s a lot of things Charles may have regretted doing or promising, but he definitely would never regret something. And that is six year old him promising to marry her when they’re both single at twenty five. He’d thank fate for having them together but he would have been with her either way even if it wasn’t meant to be.

He would no longer vacillate between lovers and friends but obsess over her forevermore. As long as she existed, he would be hers. No question no doubt and in every universe.

Such A Mystery - Part 3

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Colette Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen fell in love at the ripe old age of 12 and never looked back.

Colette Leclerc really regrets posting that particular Taylor Swift Lyric to her private Instagram account, because it made George Russell go insane.  

The rest of the world has absolutely no idea that the Dutch Lion and Charles Leclerc’s twin sister have been a couple for 15 years and are expecting a baby. 

Warnings: 

Pregnancy, Mention of multiple miscarriages, Pregnancy complications, George Russell Bashing (he's probably really nice in real life but in this, he's the bad guy, sorry) 

Author Notes: Huge thanks to @llirawolf for holding my hand through this. Currently thinking this will have like 5-7 parts?

She wasn't fine. Colette was so far from fine that it wasn't even funny anymore.

And now her twin brother had decided to chime in with his own opinions, pouring oil into the fire. 

The thought of the media dissecting every word, every gesture, every expression was unbearable. And still, she couldn't stop herself from doomscrolling.

Colette was in a state of constant anxiety, unable to stop herself from scrolling through social media and the news articles. She knew it wasn't helping her, that it was only adding to her stress, but she couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from the screen.

Every article, every comment, every thread seemed to only add to her worry. The criticism, the speculation, the accusations...it was all too much. But she couldn't look away or stop herself from reading every word, no matter how much it hurt.

She was stuck in a vicious, spiralling cycle, seeking out the information, even though she knew it was bad for her. 

The hormones and the pregnancy symptoms didn't make it any better either. 

The hormones made her emotions more intense, her anxiety more pronounced, and the pregnancy symptoms only added to the stress and discomfort. She wanted desperately for it to end, but it seemed like it would never stop.

The worst of it all was the constant swirl of thoughts in her head. The worry and fear, the relentless stream of "what-if" scenarios.

And the most terrifying thought of all: what if her stress was hurting the baby? The idea that her anxiety could harm the little life growing inside her was a constant one, always at the front of her mind.

“Eat, Choupinette,” her mother insisted. Colette stared down at her plate. Porridge and fruit and whatever else was supposed to be good for her these days. 

But her appetite was nonexistent. The weight of everything that was happening, the thoughts and fears that were running through her mind...it made it difficult to even think about food.

"Eat, Choupinette," her mother insisted again, clearly concerned. "You need to eat something, for the baby's sake. You're too pale."

“I am..”

“You aren’t fine,” her mother cut her off with a disbelieving snort. "You're pale, you haven't been eating properly, and you look like you haven't slept in weeks."

"And don't even try to tell me that the pregnancy is doing that," her mother added, her tone firm. "I had three pregnancies, I know how tiring it is. This isn't just normal exhaustion."

Colette knew that her mother was right. The pregnancy, while exhausting, wasn’t the reason. It was the anxiety, the worry, the stress...it was all taking its toll on her.

But she also knew that there was nothing she could do about it. The situation was out of her control, even if it was affecting her directly.

It was her own fault why she was in this situation to begin with. 

“I was so stupid.” Colette's shoulders slumped as she muttered under her breath. Her mother shook her head, disagreeing with the assessment.

 "It wasn't the smartest thing," her mother admitted. "But the media is blowing it out of proportion. They're making an elephant out of a fly."

It was a sentiment that Colette wholeheartedly agreed with. But at the same time, she knew that the media was relentless in their pursuit of a story. 

And Colette’s and Max's relationship would be the juiciest scandal they had gotten their hands on in a long, long time.

“I don’t want this to fall back on Charles,” Colette whispered, her voice barely above a murmur.

Her brother had worked so hard to be where he was, at the pinnacle of motorsport…to drive for the team he loved so much. 

She didn’t want to get Charles into any trouble. It wasn’t his fault. It was all on her. And any scandal, any whiff of controversy, could potentially ruin everything Charles had worked so hard for.

Her mother's words were calm, but they hit hard. "Your brother is an adult," she repeated. "He can make his own decisions. And he was the one who decided he wanted to protect you. You didn’t force him to do anything, Choupinette."

Colette knew that her mother was right. Charles was a grown man, capable of making his own decisions. But that didn't make her worry any less.

Her phone rang, her hand immediately shooting out for it. It was Max. Her hand was almost shaking as she answered the call.

"Maxie," she breathed, relief and worry mixing in her voice.

Max's voice was gentle, a soothing balm in the storm of chaos that was swirling around her. "Hey liefje," he repeated, the affectionate nickname rolling off his tongue.

Colette closed her eyes for a moment, relishing the sound of his voice.

"What are you up to?" Max inquired, his tone soft. 

"I'm having breakfast with Maman," she replied, glancing at her mother, who was watching her carefully.  

There was a moment of silence on the line, but she could almost picture Max's expression. He was no doubt worrying just as much as she was, if not more. "How are you doing?" he finally asked, his voice laced with concern. 

Colette let out a shaky sigh, her emotions warring inside her.

She wanted to lie. Wanted to tell him that she was fine. But Max and her had made themselves a promise ages ago. If there was one thing that Max hated, then it was lying. Even little white lies like this. They didn’t lie. They didn’t sugarcoat. They told the truth. Regardless of how hurtful it could be. 

They told each other the truth. Always. 

“Tired,” she answered weakly. 

"I heard you've been stalking social media again," Max's voice was dry, a hint of disapproval in his tone.

"Charles should really mind his own business," she bit back, her irritation at her twin brother evident. There was just one person that Max could have learnt that from. 

There was a pause, and she knew that Max was choosing his words carefully.  "He's just worried," he said finally. "We all are."

Colette huffed, her irritation at being coddled smouldering. "I don't need everyone to worry about me," she retorted, her tone snippier than she intended.

"We're not doing it to annoy you," Max replied, his voice gentle but firm. "We're doing it because we care about you.  I'm worried about you, liefje."

Those words were like a knife through the heart. She could hear the worry and concern in his voice, and it made her feel guilty for being so snappy with him.

Sassy chose that moment to come to jump up on her lap and she petted the Bengal cat absent-mindedly as she made herself a home on Colette’s lap. 

"I know you are," she said quietly. "I'm sorry. I just..." she trailed off, unsure of how to put her mixed feelings into words. Sassy purred softly. 

"It's okay," Max reassured her, his voice low and soothing. "I know it's hard. But please, try to take care of yourself. For me. For Bébé."

Colette felt the tears well up in her eyes again. She wanted to tell him that she was trying, that she was doing her best. But the words lodged in her throat, replaced by a thick lump of emotion.

"I'm trying," she managed to say, hating how weak and shaky her voice sounded.

"I know you are," Max murmured, his voice full of understanding. "But you need to rest, to eat. You're not doing yourself or the baby any favors by skipping meals and staying glued to your phone."

Colette knew he was right. The lack of food and sleep was taking its toll on her health and her baby. But the stress, and the worry, it made it hard to find an appetite or to switch off her brain.

"I know," she whispered, feeling helpless and frustrated. Max sighed softly on the other end of the line. 

"I wish I could be there," he said, the longing in his voice palpable.

"Me too," she whispered, her heart aching with the weight of their separation.

"I hate being apart during all of this," he mumbled, a rare show of vulnerability from him. "I should be there with you, taking care of you, protecting you from all this damn media noise."

Colette's eyes welled with tears again at his words. "You are taking care of me," she reassured him, her voice thick with emotion. "Just hearing your voice helps more than you know."

"It's not enough," he retorted, his voice firm again. "I should be there, not just talking with you over the phone. I should be able to hold you, to make sure you eat and sleep properly."

Colette could picture the fierce expression on his face, the set of his jaw. She could almost feel the intensity of his gaze, his desire to protect and care for her. But she could also hear the frustration and helplessness in his voice.

"Max," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. "It's not your fault. You're doing everything you can."

Max let out another sigh, a sound full of frustration and helplessness. "It doesn't feel like it," he mumbled, his voice betraying his emotions. "I feel so useless here, stuck continents away while you're dealing with all of this alone."

Colette's heart ached at his words. She wanted to assure him that he wasn't useless, that his support through the phone and the occasional visit meant the world to her. But she also understood how powerless he felt, how useless he must feel, miles and miles away from her.

"You're not useless," she said firmly, her voice steady despite the tears threatening to fall. "You're the only thing keeping me sane right now."

There was a pause on the line, and she could sense Max's turmoil on the other end. "I just wish I could do more," he said quietly. "I wish I could take all this away from you, the stress, the worry, the media. You shouldn't have to deal with all this alone."

Colette felt a fresh burst of tears at his words. She wanted to tell him that he wasn't Superman, that he couldn't fix everything, but she also knew that he would never accept that. Max was a doer, a problem solver. Watching her struggle from afar must be killing him.

"I'm not alone," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I have you. That's more than enough."

"It's not enough," he mumbled again, the stubborn set to his words making her smile despite herself. She could almost see the familiar stubborn pout on his face even from so far away. "I'm serious," he insisted, his voice firmer now. "I should be the one taking care of you and our baby, not just chatting on the phone."Colette let out a quiet sigh, a mix of amusement and frustration at Max's stubbornness. She loved that he cared so much, but at the same time, she didn't want him to feel guilty for something that was out of his control.

"Max," she said gently, trying to make him understand. "You do take care of us, even from miles away. Just knowing that you're there for me, that you love us, it means everything. We're a team, remember? We're in this together."

There was another silence on the line, and she could practically picture Max clenching his jaw. She knew that he wanted to protest, that he wanted to argue, to find a solution to make things right. But he also understood that there was nothing he could do right now but accept the situation.

Finally, he sighed, the sound a mixture of frustration and resignation. "Okay," he said quietly. "But promise me you'll try to eat and sleep properly. Promise me you'll take care of yourself and our baby."

Colette couldn't help the tears that rolled down her cheeks at his concern. She could hear the love and worry in his voice, the desperate plea for her to take care of herself.

"I promise," she whispered, her voice wobbly but firm. "I'll take care of myself. For you, for Bébé. I promise."

She would even let go of the fact that she was pretty sure that her family were babysitting her. When her mother went home after breakfast, it didn't take too long for Arthur to show up, happily ignoring her pointing out that he actually had work to do and instead he joined her on the couch watching re-runs of The Real Housewives.

Colette rolled her eyes at Arthur's unashamed enjoyment of the reality TV show. He had always been a sucker for messy drama, and the housewives provided plenty of that.

"You are ridiculous," she mumbled, but there was a hint of a smile on her lips.

"Oh, shut up," Arthur retorted cheerfully, his eyes never leaving the screen. "You love this show and you know it."

"I do not," Colette protested, but it sounded halfhearted, even to her own ears.

Quite frankly, she would rather watch fake drama on TV than think about the one happening in real life to her.

Bébé decided at that moment to kick her in her ribs again and she grimaced.

"Are you alright?" Arthur asked her immediately.

Colette let out a wince as the baby kicked her again. "Yeah, just baby kicking my ribs again. It's getting more and more frequent," she mumbled, rubbing the spot on her stomach where the baby had kicked.

Arthur chuckled. "The baby's probably just feeling cramped. They want more space," he teased.

"Ha ha, you're hilarious," Colette replied sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

“Maybe the baby's just getting impatient and wants to come out already," Arthur said with a shrug, his eyes still glued to the screen.

"Don't even joke about that," Colette said, her tone serious. "I still have another month to go. He better stay in there until then.”

She still had around 4 weeks of pregnancy left. 

"Still thinking it's a boy?" Arthur asked her curious.

Colette nodded, her hand still resting on her stomach. "Yeah, I just have a feeling. Call it a mother's intuition," she said with a small smile.

Arthur rolled his eyes in amusement. "Or just wishful thinking," he teased her.  "Isn't Max convinced it's a girl?" 

Colette chuckled, thinking about Max's adamant belief that the baby was a girl. "Yeah, he is. He has ordered a bunch of dresses online," she said with a laugh. “And hairbows...so many hairbows…If it's a boy, I don't know what I'll do with all of them."

Arthur started laughing.

Colette shot him a playful glare. "Don't laugh at my predicament," she said, but the effect was ruined by the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Arthur couldn't help himself, bursting into another fit of laughter. "I'm sorry, it's just too funny picturing Max buying all those dresses and hairbows," he managed to say between chuckles. 

Her phone pinged again.  Colette huffed in irritation as Arthur picked up her phone before she could. "Hey, that's mine," she protested.

Arthur just shot her a cheeky grin. "Finders keepers," he teased, waving the phone just out of her reach. "Besides, no more doomscrolling for you," her younger brother told her seriously.

Colette rolled her eyes at his reprimand, but deep down, she knew he was right. "I wasn't doomscrolling," she mumbled petulantly, even though she knew it was a blatant lie.

"I just...People are making up opinions about me and my life and they don't know me," she said weakly. "That's why I don't even have a public Instagram in the first place, Arthur. I just want to live my life without worrying about what people are going to think..."

"What does it matter what they think?" Arthur asked her curiously.

Colette let out a frustrated sigh. "It shouldn't matter, I know it shouldn't," she said firmly. "But it does. Maybe it's human nature to care what other people think, I don't know."

She ran a hand through her hair tiredly. "I just don't want people to judge me, to make assumptions about my life and my decisions."

Arthur nodded in understanding. "I get it," he said softly. "It can be hard to block out the noise. But you have to remember that the only opinion that matters is your own."

Colette let out a bitter laugh. "Yeah, tell that to the media," she mumbled, but there was no vitriol in her voice, just resignation.

Arthur huffed, shaking his head. "The media don't know what they're talking about. They just want the next big headline, the next scandal. They don't care about the truth."

Colette sighed, slumping back on the couch. "I just wish they'd leave me alone," she mumbled. "I just want to have my baby in peace."

Arthur patted her leg comfortingly. "Just focus on yourself and the baby," he said firmly. "Everything else is just background noise."

Colette nodded, taking a deep breath. He was right, of course. “They have this picture of me in their head, that’s very different from the actual person,” she said weakly. “And now they judge me for something that they don’t even know what it was, because it’s not public. They just take Russell’s word and run with it…”

Arthur's expression darkened as she vented. "I know," he said softly. "It's unfair and it sucks. But you can't let it get to you."

Colette sighed, rubbing a hand over her eyes. "I know. I know.”

"You don't owe anyone anything," Arthur said firmly. "You don't have to justify yourself to anyone. Max would say the same."

Colette smiled wryly at the mention of Max. She could almost hear his voice in her head, telling her the same thing.

She closed her eyes, picturing Max's face in her mind. He always knew what to say to keep her grounded, to keep her from spiralling into a dark pit of despair. She missed him, more than she thought was possible.

"I just wish Maxie was here," she muttered, her voice thick with emotion.

cherry flavoured | sebastian vettel

sebastian vettel x reporter!reader

based on the video of iker casillas and his gf during the 2010 world cup

she’s a long one <3 this was finished at 2:30 AM so I’m sorry if there’s any mistakes (please do not request for part 2)

Abu Dhabi Grand Prix 2010

It was the last race of the season and you were nervous, especially for Sebastian. It was down to Fernando, Mark, Sebastian and Lewis, one of them was going to be them champion. It was your job to cover the race and conduct interviews before and after so this gave you a chance to speak with Sebastian and wish him luck. The media didn’t know about your relationship that had just become official a month ago.

Sebastian had asked you out before the Japanese Grand Prix. That day, you decided to make a deal with him. If he won, you would go to dinner with him. After 53 laps, Sebastian secured a win and a date with you.

While you finished up your interview with Lewis, Sebastian stood patiently to the side. He kept his eye on you, staring at how you talked with such confidence and passion. He loved how expressive you were, sometimes talking with your hands. After letting Lewis go so he could prepare for the race, it was Sebastian’s turn. He happily joined you.

“Hello Sebastian, how are you?” You asked, knowing already how he felt, but you had to do your job. The night before, you stayed in Sebastian’s room, that’s when he told you how nervous he was feeling.

“Good, excited, happy.” He replied, smiling at you.

“Well I won’t keep you here for very long—”

“Why not? I enjoy talking to you.” Sebastian interrupted. His smirk was making you weak and all you wanted was to drag him into a room and let him have his way with you, but you couldn’t at least not now.

Several questions later, Sebastian was still giving you that look making it hard for you to concentrate. It was the same look he gave you the night before when you and him were in his hotel room ripping each other’s clothes off.

“Alright, good luck Seb . . astian, sebastian sorry.” You apologized.

All Sebastian did was laugh at your mistake. Since nobody apart from Mark knew about your relationship, you couldn’t call him Seb. He nodded then mumbled an ‘I love you’ and left. You really hoped nobody could read his lips since you were still live.

You understood that Sebastian needed to concentrate before the race so you didn’t bother him. Soon, the race had started, almost instantly on lap 1, a crash happened. After the race restarted, you watched Sebastian keep his p1 position. When it came to the final lap, everyone was silent in the Red Bull garage where you were watching the race from. Sebastian crossed the finish line, but you still had to wait for the other four cars.

Lewis came in second then came Jenson. After confirming, it was clear that Sebastian had become world champion.

You and the team members of Red Bull made it to the podium ceremony. The German national anthem played as Sebastian soaked in the moment. He had made history by becoming the youngest world champion. After the national anthem finished, he tried to look for you in the crowd. When he finally did, he winked at you. Again, he was making you feel all sorts of emotions.

After the podium celebrations and posing for photos, the three drivers had to do threat post race interviews. You were in charge of being the first to interview the new world champion.

In the media pen, Sebastian spotted you getting ready for your interview. When you were done, he walked up to you with the biggest smile on his face.

“Congratulations Sebastian. How was it up there on the podium?” You asked.

“It was a dream, but now it’s reality.” Sebastian replied. “I just wanna thank all the people that supported me and you of course, you’ve been there for me.”

You weren’t sure how to respond to that. Was Sebastian about to reveal your relationship?

“Well congratulations again, go celebrate this historic win—” Before you could finish your sentence, Sebastian placed both of his hands on your cheeks and brought you closer to him, placing a kiss on your lips. You could taste the champagne that had been poured of him by Jenson and Lewis. From the distance, Jenson cheered, making everyone turn their attention towards you and Sebastian.

Sebastian didn’t care that you were still live. All he wanted was to celebrate with his girlfriend. “I love you.” He mumbled against your lips. When he finally pulled away, he licked his lips. “Cherry, my favorite.” He smirked.

“You’re the worst.” You laughed. “I love you too, champ. Go, I’ll see you soon.” You practically had to push him away from you so you could continue with more interviews.

“I’ll wait for you!” He yelled as he walked away.

Then Jenson made his way to you since you were going to interview him next. “Do I get one as well?” He teased.

Of course you and Sebastian celebrated, how could you not? He had made history. After the famous kiss, you were sure that you were going to get fired, but nothing ever happened. You did get a warning to not do it again, which Sebastian reminded the FIA that it was his idea not yours resulting in him getting a warning too.

Over the years, you were there when Sebastian won, when he lost, when he moved to Ferrari. You comforted him when he realized he would never win a championship with Ferrari.

During the summer break of the 2019 season, you and Sebastian decided to get married. It was an intimate wedding with only close friends and family attending. The night of your wedding, Sebastian promised you that he would take you anywhere for a while so you could spend your honeymoon. Of course being an F1 driver and a reporter, it didn’t go as planned as a global pandemic hit. You assured Sebastian that you weren’t mad, you had traveled almost everywhere with him anyway.

After the 2020 season ended, Sebastian was now with Aston Martin. He had only secured one podium finish with the team, but you were still more than happy for him.

One day after media day had finished for the 2021 French Grand Prix, you and Sebastian were in the Aston Martin motorhome having lunch. You were talking about a new piece of furniture you wanted when your phone vibrated. You checked it and saw a picture of your friend’s baby that she had sent you.

“Look, remember my friend Jane? That’s her baby girl, aw she’s so adorable.” You showed Sebastian a picture of the baby. “I need to tell her to stop sending pictures or I might get baby fever.”

“It wouldn’t be such a bad thing, right?” Sebastian asked. “We’ve been together for eleven years, married for two.“

“I did always dream of being a mother. It would be fun to play dress up with our daughter or play with your toy cars with our son. Can you imagine that? They would call me mom . . holy shit.”

Sebastian thought about it. He was in his mid thirties, he already won four titles, that was enough for him.

“I guess this plays into what I’m about to talk to you next. . . I didn’t renew a contract for 2023 with sky sports.” You said.

“Are you going somewhere else?” He questioned.

“No, I didn’t sign anything with anyone. I just thought that it’s time for me to step back. Give someone younger their moment.” You replied. You made the decision a while ago even before the 2021 season started.

“But you love your job.”

“I can’t stay here forever, Seb.”

All day Sebastian had thought about your words. He couldn’t stay in formula 1 forever either. The younger generation had to have a go too.

At the end of the 2021 season, Sebastian had told you the news that he would be retiring at the end of the next season like you. You were sure him retiring was the result of your conversation, but he assured you that even before that he had considered retirement.

“So when are you going to announce it?” You asked.

“Soon. I want to enjoy winter break with you first.”

You and Sebastian spent the holidays in your home in Switzerland surrounded by family and friends. You weren’t even sure how it happened since you and Sebastian spent most of your time at home, but both of you ended up testing positive for covid. You assumed you contracted the virus when you went out for groceries.

The 2022 season had started and you and your husband were stuck at home quarantining. It wasn’t bad, it was just a normal day except you had medicine and empty tissue boxes scattered around the floor.

“Do you need another blanket, liebe?” Sebastian asked you. He touched your forehead feeling it not as hot as before.

You two were in your bedroom watching the Bahrain Grand Prix. You didn’t expect this to be the start of your last season, but at least you were with Sebastian.

“I’m okay, I’m thirsty though.” You sat up as Sebastian walked to the kitchen to get you a glass of water. Once he returned, he saw how sad you looked as you watch the race.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m going to miss it, but I’m happy that I get to be home with you.” You smiled weakly at him.

“We can visit whenever we want, liebe, and then one day we can visit with the kids.” Sebastian replied. “Here, drink.” He handed you the glass of water.

Soon enough, you and Sebastian were good to return back to the paddock. You felt refreshed and ready to officially start the season. You did your interviews, greeted your colleagues and then made your way to the Aston Martin garage where you were going to watch the race.

By lap 24, Sebastian was out. It broke your heart to see it, it was his first race back and he didn’t get a chance to finish it. He arrived back to the garage in a Marshall’s scooter making it a funny moment despite his dnf. He looked for you first.

“Are you okay?” You asked, running your hand through his messy hair.

“Good.” Was all that he said.

After doing some post race interviews, Sebastian waited for you in the Aston Martin motorhome. When you arrived, you noticed a plate of fruit and berries on the table. “I figured you didn’t get a break all day so eat. I made sure to get plenty of pineapple and strawberries.” He moved the plate closer to you.

“Thanks, it wasn’t that stressful today. Hopefully the next race is better for us.” You said once you sat down and started to eat the fruit. “No cherries today?”

“You and your cherries. Not today, liebe.” Sebastian grabbed a strawberry from the plate.

Eventually it was time to announce to the world of motorsports and media that Sebastian and you were retiring. You announced it first with a lengthy post on instagram with pictures of when you first started to now, you even posted the famous kiss that Sebastian gave you in 2010.

You received lots of comments and messages from family, friends and colleagues. It was nice to feel loved by them. The next day, it was Sebastian’s turn to announce his retirement. It started with him making an Instagram account then posting a video.

“I hereby announce my retirement from formula one by the end of the 2022 season.”

Abu Dhabi Grand Prix 2022

You felt a giant wave of deja vu. Here you were back in Abu Dhabi only this time it would be the official last Grand Prix for you and Sebastian. You would still visit like Sebastian mentioned, but it wouldn’t feel the same.

You walked into the paddock with Sebastian holding your hand. You were greeted by photographers, fans that wanted to get pictures with Sebastian and several members of other teams that wanted to congratulate you and your husband on retirement.

First you went to the Aston Martin motorhome again since you were a bit tired. You sat at a table in the corner. For a couple of weeks now, you were keeping a secret from Sebastian. Your friend, Jane, was the only one who knew since she had gone through a similar experience.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Sebastian asked as he noticed the tired look on you. “Want something to eat?”

“No I’m okay, I promise. It’s still too early for me to function I guess.” You dismissed it. “I’ll catch up with you later, I’m sure you have lots of people waiting for you.”

“They can wait. If you need me here then I’m staying, end of discussion.” He was about to sit down next to you, but you stopped him.

“Seb, no. I mean it, I am fine. Go.” You demanded.

Before he left, Sebastian placed a kiss on your lips. When he pulled away, he frowned. “Is that coconut? I thought you were going to wear the cherry one.”

“Change of plans.” You smiled. “Go, the team needs you.”

“Be careful, I’ll see you later.” He placed one more kiss on your lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You reply as you watch Sebastian walk out. “I can just imagine how protective he’s going to be about you, baby.” You spoke to yourself as you looked down to your stomach.

You found out you were pregnant when Jane was visiting you in Switzerland. You had gone out to eat for brunch at a nice little restaurant. Immediately after arriving, the smell of eggs made you run to the nearest bathroom and vomit in the toilet. Jane had ran after you making sure you were okay.

“Fuck . . It’s the smell.” You confirmed.

“Babe, when was the last time you had your period?”

Jane’s question made you think back to your vacation with Sebastian a couple months ago. You and Sebastian couldn’t keep your hands off of each other.

After taking a pregnancy test, it was confirmed that you were pregnant. You called your doctor to schedule an appointment. Sebastian wasn’t home so you didn’t have to worry about him walking in on you holding a pregnancy test. You weren’t sure how you were going to tell him, but you knew that he would be the happiest man on earth.

You were assigned to interview Sebastian immediately after the race while on the track. You were told that it would be a special moment for you two seeing as you were both leaving. Apparently Sebastian didn’t know this so that was another secret kept from him.

Sebastian stood beside you as he got ready. You held his helmet, your name printed on the side in a small font. “Remember when I won back in 2010?”

“No, remind me again?” You joked. “Of course I do. It was the night you kissed me in front of thousands of people on live tv.”

“It would be a shame if we didn’t recreate that.” He teased. “You know . . . for historical reasons.”

“I don’t want to get in trouble on my last day.”

“You’re no fun.” Seb rolled his eyes playfully. “Kiss for good luck?”

You then kissed the top of his helmet and shoved it in his hands. “Good luck.” You were about to leave, but Sebastian grabbed your hand and brought you back to him. “Fine.” You kissed him as if your life depended on it.

“I was hoping you changed your lipgloss to cherry.” Mumbled Sebastian after pulling away from you.

“You’ll live.” You gave him a chaste kiss then waited for him to put his balaclava. “I love you and I’m so fucking proud of you.”

Soon, the race was starting. Sebastian had started from P9. It was an exciting and emotional race for you and Sebastian. You didn’t want it to end, but you knew that Sebastian’s time in f1 was over.

By the end of the 58 laps, Sebastian had scored his last point in formula 1. You were content with the result even if he only scored one point. You were then directed to the track with a camera man and microphone in hand. As Sebastian did donuts on the track, you took your phone out to record his last moments. When he finished, you put away your phone. You didn’t even notice you were crying until a marshal gave you a tissue.

You thanked him and cleaned up as Sebastian made his way out the car to wave at the fans. Eventually Sebastian made his way towards you without his helmet and his racing suit hanging from his waist. You couldn’t start the interview without hugging him first so that’s what you did. Like in 2010, the camera filmed you and Sebastian as you embraced. You could hear the crowd cheering.

“You did so well. You made me cry.” You mumbled as Sebastian kissed your temple.

“You look pretty when you cry.” He let go of you since you needed to start the interview. He fixed your hair, tucking a strand behind your ear.

“Sebastian, wow, first off congratulations on your incredible career.” You began.

“I don’t know what to say. I feel a bit empty to be honest, it’s been a big weekend.” He looked at the crowd who were sad to see him go. He gave a speech that made you cry even more, which you blamed on the hormones. “I can say that you were always with me in the bad times and good times. Thank you for sticking with me.”

“Always.” You said, completely forgetting you were holding the microphone so the whole audience heard you.

Sebastian then thanked the fans for the messages and support he’s been receiving. It only made you want to cry even more so thankfully your interview was coming to an end.

“Congratulations, Seb. You deserve it.” You said and with that you and your husband hugged once more. “You’re coming home.” You sighed.

“You don’t sound too happy.” He teased.

“I am, trust me. That means you can help move some stuff around and redecorate the guest room.” You let go of Sebastian, but you still held his hand.

“Why would we need to redecorate the guest room?” He questioned.

“Because that’s our baby’s room.”

“Our baby? Really? You mean it?” His lips turned into a smile that he couldn’t wipe off. “When did you find out?”

“Weeks ago. I’m letting you know right now that if you ever make eggs around me, I will vomit so let’s not do that.” You laughed as Seb brought you in for a kiss.

Again, Jenson was cheering in the background like he did in 2010.

When Sebastian pulled away, he smirked. You had changed your lipgloss after all. “Cherry, my favorite.”

Hi babes how are you?? can you write something with jade thirlwall as your face claim please? Thanks❤❤

the great escape - cl16

summary: the final race of the f1 calendar and yn's final show of her world tour are happening the same day. will charles make it on time?

folkie radio: I CAN'T BELIEVE THE SEASON IS OVER. WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO UNTIL MARCH??? anyway, this is 100% inspired by the final race and the final eras tour show happening during the same day and i hope you like it!

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

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yourinstagram seattle you were UNREAL tonight! the energy was everything and more! this lifetimes world tour has been the journey of my dreams 🌟 thank you for making every single show so special!

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username1 BEST GIRL EVER

username2 THE SHOW WAS AMAZING

charles_leclerc You were incredible mon amour ❤️ The way you light up that stage... Proud doesn't even begin to cover it

↳ username1 CHARLIEEE

↳ username2 he’s such a simp

↳ username3 i need my man to hype me up like this

lewishamilton Killed it as always 🔥

username4 THE WAY CHARLES ALWAYS COMMENTS FIRST ON HER POSTS I CAN'T 😭

username5 anyone else notice he's been liking her posts exactly 1 minute after they're uploaded? 👀

username6 missing the days when they tried to hide their relationship now they're just being cute everywhere

username7 TOUR OF THE DECADE

bellahadid mother 😍😍

username8 SOMEONE TELL ME HOW TO PROCESS THE "mon amour" COMMENT

username9 charles watching from Monaco at 4am again we see

username10 I CANT BELIEVE THIS TOUR IS COMING TO AN END

liked by maxverstappen1, yourinstagram and 1,765,499 others

charles_leclerc A Sunday I’ll forever remember 🇮🇹❤️

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username1 FORZAAAA CHARLES

username2 and that's how you do it

arthur_leclerc ❤️

username3 THE KING OF MONZA FOREVER

username4 SO DESERVED

username5 uughh sucks that yn couldn't be there

landonorris Well done mate!

username6 just missing his girl i'm crying

username7 did anyone else catch him grabbing his phone as soon as he stepped off the podium? probably calling yn

username8 THE CHAMPIONSHIP IS POSSIBLE

yourinstagram YES YES YES ! so proud of you babyyyy 🥺

username9 someone reunite yn and charles asap i can't do this

username10 THAT WINNER GLOW

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f1gossip CHARLES LECLERC SPOTTED IN NASHVILLE!

Man really flew straight from Austin → Mexico→ Brazil and then to Nashville all in 15 days just to see YN perform! Talk about a supportive boyfriend

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username1 I LOVE HIM SM

username2 Bro finished P3 in Mexico, P1 in Austin and instead of resting he's here... that's love

username3 ferrari's physio is having a breakdown watching this

username4 the way he's been to 13 shows this tour despite racing... abu dhabi to vegas doesn't seem impossible anymore 👀

username5 he really said "sleep is for the weak"

username6 HES SO IN LOVE

username7 using his days off to fly across the world to see her... meanwhile I can't get a text back

username8 such a fanboy

username9 they need to get married idc

username10 im going to be devastated if he doesn’t make it to the final show

liked by username1, username2 and 39,605 others

ynupdates "So, um, funny story about this next song... I wrote it after watching someone very special to me race in Monaco last year. He crashed his Ferrari, which was absolutely terrifying by the way. But afterward, he just looked at me and said 'At least I looked cool doing it, no?' And somehow that turned into 'Reckless Driving'... which, Charles, I know you're back there trying to hide under your hoodie, but you're still not forgiven for that crash." -YN in Nashville tonight

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username1 his face was SO RED

username2 ot Charles trying to sink into his seat when she mentioned Monaco 💀

username3 I LOVE ONE COUPLE

username4 the way he still gets shy every time she mentions him on stage even though they've been together for 2 years 🥺

username5 charles collecting tour moments like infinity stones... Abu Dhabi to Vegas IS happening guys

username6 "you're still not forgiven" MA'AM YOU WROTE A WHOLE SONG ABOUT IT

username7 THE WAY PIERRE WAS JUST POINTING AND LAUGHING AT HIM

username8 he's been to so many shows and still blushes every time she mentions him I can't 😭

username9 the fact that one of her biggest hits came from him crashing a Ferrari... iconic

username10 I LOVE THEM SOOO BAD

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charles_leclerc Ready for the final push. Been an incredible season so far... but the best moments have been watching you shine @/yourinstagram❤️

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username1 CHARLIEEEE

username2 this is so cute

yourinstagram the best cheerleader in the paddock ❤️ (even when you're half asleep from jet lag)

↳ username1 AWEEEE

↳ username2 i love them so bad

carlossainz55 Focus on the championship... then we plan the great escape 🏃‍♂️

↳ username1 THE FACT THAT THEY’RE ALREADY PLANNING

username3 THE TENSION IS KILLING US WILL HE MAKE IT TO THE FINAL SHOW OR NOT

scuderiaferrari Eyes on the prize🏆

username4 anyone else tracking flights from abu dhabi to vegas just in case? no? just me?

username5 man's about to break the sound barrier trying to get to that show

landonorris Better start practicing those quick pit stop exits mate

username6 not me already emotional thinking about if he makes it 😭

username7 the way he hasn't confirmed or denied if he's going to make it... the STRESS

username8 time zones are just a social construct anyway

username9 I LOVE ONE FAIRYTALE COUPLE

username10 this duo is the best thing that happened

liked by charles_leclerc, dualipa and 2,509,578 others

yourinstagram 161 shows. 89 cities and somehow it still feels like yesterday when we opened in tokyo. to every single person who's been part of this lifetimes world journey - my heart is so full. these last few shows are going to be extra special ✨🌟

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username1 IM CRYING

username2 IF WE COULD ONLY TURN BACK TIME

charles_leclerc Still remember when you were so nervous before that first show in Tokyo... now look at you. La mia stella ⭐️

↳ yourinstagram i love you

taylorswift The most magical tour! So proud of you 🥺✨

pierregalsy @/charles_leclerc remember when you made us watch the Tokyo livestream in the simulator room? 😂

username3 NOT ME CRYING AT 3AM READING THIS

username4 LIFETIMES TOUR FOREVER 🌟

username5 still can't believe she changed her entire tour schedule to avoid clashing with race weekends... except the last show 😭

scuderiaferrari Looking forward to getting our garage singer back after tour ends

username6 the most supportive F1 boyfriend despite the insane schedules... we love to see it

username7 TOUR OF THE DECADE

sabrinacarpenter most perfect girl ever 💘

username8 that last show is going to make us all weep

username9 I CANT BELIEVE I WAS PART OF THIS

username10 if charles doesn’t make it to her last show istg

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f1gossip SPOTTED: YN in the Vegas paddock supporting Charles before tonight's race! Sources say she's been here since Thursday's practice sessions 👀

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username1 POWER COUPLE

username2 they’re so hot

username3 she's been to every practice session... meanwhile charles calculating flight times to her final show 👀

username4 ferrari PR trying to handle both of them being extra cute in the paddock 😂

username5 THE WAY SHE FIXES HIS HELMET BEFORE EVERY SESSION 🥺

username6 taking a break from tour rehearsals to support her man... we love to see it

username7 the way she knows all the Ferrari crew by name now 🥺

username8 both of their face cards create a face economy

username9 IT COUPLE FOREVER

username10 i love yn at the paddock

liked by username1, username2 and 42,038 others

charlesupdates “I mean... if I have to sprint from the car in Abu Dhabi still in my race suit, that's what I'll do. Some things are more important than post-race protocols, no? Fred might kill me but... I've watched her grow so much during this tour, and I'm not missing that final show. I'll figure it out.” -Charles about the final race taking place the same day of his girlfriend’s final show!

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username1 AHHHH

username2 this is so cute

username3 translation: I already have 3 different backup plans and a private jet on standby

username4 THE WAY HE JUST OPENLY ADMITTED HE'S PLANNING TO DITCH POST-RACE 😭

username5 "Some things are more important than post-race protocols" STOP IM CRYING

username6 Charles "I'll break every FIA rule for my girl" Leclerc

username7 man's really about to set a new record for fastest post-race exit

username8 remember when they tried to be subtle about their relationship? now he's planning a great escape on live tv😭

username9 YUP IM CRYING OVER THIS

username10 best couple ever fr

liked by charles_leclerc, arianagrande and 2,879,044 others

yourinstagram vegas race weekend dump 🏎️❤️ from trying (and failing) to understand strategy meetings to @/pierregasly teaching me proper radio etiquette... might have to come to more races if the view is this good 😌 now off to the final shows ! see you tomorrow night philly 🌟

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username1 ICONICCCC

username2 queen of the paddock actually

scuderiaferrari Our favorite honorary team member ❤️

username3 we need her at every race actually

username4 from selling out arenas to falling asleep in F1 strategy meetings... we love a versatile queen

username5 the way the whole team has adopted her though 😭

adele Gorgeous ✨✨

carlossainz55 Those strategy ideas weren't bad actually... 🤔

username6 living for boyfriend charles content

username7 pierre and yn’s friendship tho

francisca.cgomes miss youuuu🤍

username8 NOW CHARLES NEEDS TO MAKE IT TO HER FINAL SHOW

username9 i’ve died dead

charles_leclerc Love you mon amour ❤️

username10

username11 "might have to come to more races" PLEASE DO 😭

username12 that helmet pic is giving "take your girlfriend to work day" energy

username13 he fact that she changed her final show time to match the potential race end time... we see you 👀

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pierregasly Practicing the escape route for Abu Dhabi -> Vegas next week. Current time to beat: plane to venue in 2 hours 37 minutes.

The things my boy does for love @/charles_leclerc 🏃‍♂️✈️

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username1 I CANT DO THISSSS

username2 bffs i love them

charles_leclerc You're the best getaway driver a man could ask for 🫡

yourinstagram not you two literally timing his sprints through the plane... i can't with you both 😭❤️

username3 THE WAY THEY'RE PLANNING THIS LIKE AN OCEAN'S 11 HEIST

lewishamilton Helicopter already fueled up boys

username4 pierre really said "professional racer AND escape route planner"

username5 this friendship>>>

username6 bestie behavior is planning your friend's cross-continental love sprint

landonorris you both are mental 😂😂

username7 pierre "i will get this man to his girl" gasly strikes again

scuderiaferrari Preparing the great escape as we speak

username8 friendship is when your bro times your airport sprints

username9 pierre taking "wing man" to new heights fr fr

username10 THIS IS REALLY SERIOUS

francisca.cgomes Partners in crime 😭

username11 I NEED THIS IN MY LIFE

username12 long live piarles

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charles_leclerc One more race. Then Vegas calling 👀✈️

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username1 IM SEATED

username2 i can’t believe this season is coming to an end

pierregasly Your bag is already in Vegas btw. Yes I packed the good cologne 😌

↳ username1 pierre is the best wingman ever

carlossainz55 My media training about to come in clutch tomorrow covering for you 🏃‍♂️

↳ username2 the way the entire paddock is just helping out

maxverstappen1 Plane's fueled up mate. Just say when

username3 OPERATION GET CHARLES TO VEGAS IS A GO!!!!11!!

username4 NOT ME TRACKING 27 DIFFERENT FLIGHTS FROM ABU DHABI TO VEGAS RN 😭😭

username5 the way this man bout to break the land speed record getting to that airport HELP

username6 HE BETTER MAKE IT OR WE RIOTING FR FR

username7 the whole paddock helping him escape is giving romance movie of the year idc idc

username8 NOT NOW GUYS IM CALCULATING TIME ZONES AND FLIGHT PATHS 📝😤

username9 the way he planned his whole race weekend around making this show... boyfriend of the year???

username10 imagine being so whipped you plan an intercontinental sprint... we love to see it 😭

yourinstagram break a leg baby ❤️ (but like... not literally bc you need to run fast tomorrow)

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yourinstagram 24 hours until the final lifetimes show. still can't believe we're here. to everyone who's been part of this journey - my heart is so full it might burst. vegas, let's make this one special ✨

(yes i'm wearing his jacket for good luck don't @ me)

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username1 I CANT BELIEVE ITS OVER

username2 man im going to cry

username3 NOT ME TRACKING EVERY PRIVATE JET FROM ABU DHABI RN 😭😭

charles_leclerc that jacket's never looked better mon coeur. see you soon 🏃‍♂️✈️

↳ username1 SOMEONE CHECK IF HIS RACE IS DONE YET PLS

username4 THE WAY WE'RE ALL WATCHING F1, SHOW LIVESTREAM AND REFRESHING FLIGHT RADAR AT THE SAME TIME

carlossainz55 Don't worry i'll handle the press so he can SPRINT

↳ username2 SHES SO LOVED

dualipa PROUD OF YOU ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

troyesivan tour of the century

username5 half of us watching the race, half tracking flights, half crying about the tour ending... math who???

mercedesamgf1 Our helicopter offer still stands @/charles_leclerc just saying

username6 NOT THE WHOLE F1 PADDOCK HELPING THIS MAN MAKE IT IN TIME... netflix been real quiet since this dropped fr

username7 IM SO PROUF OF HERRRR

username8 planning my own wedding but somehow more invested in this man making it to vegas help 💀

username9 NO YN DONT GOOO

username10 this show is going to be legendary

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f1updates BREAKING: OPERATION GET CHARLES TO VEGAS IS GO! 🏃‍♂️✈️

- Race finished 9:47pm Abu Dhabi time

- Fastest cooldown lap in F1 history

- Shortest post-race interview ever ("Yes car good thanks bye")

- Carlos creating chaos as distraction

- Pierre with the getaway bag

- Entire grid covering for him

- Multiple transport options ready

YN's show starts in 11 hours. IT'S HAPPENING.

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username1 everyone say thank you ferrari mechanics for that 0.5 second car shutdown

username2 never seen this man move so fast in his LIFE

username3 "how was the race carlos?" "LOOK OVER THERE A DISTRACTION"

username4 THE WAY HE YEETED HIMSELF OUT THAT CAR HELP 💀

username5 charles really said post race protocol who??? don't know her???

username6 never seen someone get out of race suit that fast tbh

username7 someone tell sky sports to stop looking for him he's GONE gone

username8 OPERATION YEET CHARLES TO VEGAS STATUS: ENGAGED

username9 charles doing his interview WHILE WALKING is sending me

username10 the whole paddock moving like secret service agents i can't 💀

username11 live footage of charles breaking land speed records to the airport

username12 netflix punching air rn that they missed filming this

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f1updates🚨CHARLES LECLERC HAS ENTERED THE BUILDING 🚨

CONFIRMED DETAILS:

- Arrived during 6th song

- Still in race weekend stubble

- Pierre waiting with water bottle

- Security running interference

- Straight from plane to venue

- VIP entrance at 10:47pm

WE REPEAT: MISSION ACCOMPLISHED 🏃‍♂️✈️

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username1 IM CRYING

username2 I CANT BELIEVE HE MADE IT

username3 THE WAY THE WHOLE ARENA JUST GASPED???

username4 not me crying in section 103 watching him sprint to his seat 😭

username5 charles 🤝 cinderella = racing against midnight

username6 THE WAY YN STUMBLED OVER HER LYRICS WHEN SHE SAW HIM BYE-

username7 everyone who helped track his flight, we did it joe 😭

username8 security guard: sir you need to wal-

charles: I JUST FLEW 8000 MILES LET ME RUN

username9 yn’s smile when she saw him... brb sobbing

username10 THE WAY HE JUST COLLAPSED IN THAT SEAT LIKE HE RAN A MARATHON

username11 him mouthing "i made it" to her... i'm going to pass away

username12 section 201 reporting: his hair is still sweaty from racing and he's BEAMING at her like she hung the stars i'm literally deceased

username13 the way she kept giggling during the ballad bc he was still panting from running... HELP THIS IS SO CUTE???

username14 pierre handing him water and fixing his collar while yn's trying not to cry on stage... the CHAOS of it all

username15 THE WAY HE HASNT STOPPED SMILING AT HER SINCE HE SAT DOWN... boy ran across the world just to see her shine 🥺

username16 not the backup dancers crying bc he made it... WE'RE ALL EMOTIONAL OK

username17 THE WAY SHE KEEPS GETTING DISTRACTED BC HE'S FINALLY THERE... girl same i can't focus either

username18 everyone in the arena watching him catch his breath in that seat like we all just completed a mission together... WE DID IT YALL 😭

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yntourupdates TRANSCRIPT OF YN TALKING ABOUT CHARLES (while trying not to cry):

"So um... *laughs* someone just flew literally across the world to be here... *wipes tear* ran straight from his race... didn't even change... *crowd screams* ...and made it just in time for this next song. Which is funny because... I actually wrote this one about someone who would cross oceans just to make me smile... *voice breaks* ...and well... *looks at charles* ...guess I manifested that huh?"

SOMEONE HOLD ME 😭

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username1 THE WAY HE JUST BURIED HIS FACE IN HIS HANDS WHEN SHE SAID THAT-

username2 NOT THE ENTIRE ARENA TURNING TO LOOK AT HIM SOBBING IN THE FRONT ROW

username3 she really said "wrote a song about someone crossing oceans for me" and he said BET WATCH ME DO IT IRL

username4 section 304 reporting: grown men crying. me crying. everyone crying.

username5 HE LOOKS SO PROUD BUT ALSO EMOTIONAL BUT ALSO EXHAUSTED BUT ALSO SO IN LOVE HELP???

username6 NOT HER VOICE CRACKING WHEN SHE LOOKED AT HIM... netflix been real quiet since this dropped fr

username7 someone tell charles to stop looking at her like that i'm fighting for my life in row 23 😭

username8 the backup dancers wiping their eyes while doing choreo... we're all emotional messes tonight

username9 she really manifested a whole man flying across continents... her power??????

username10 yn crying, charles crying, dancers crying, crowd crying, me crying, everyone crying

username10 THE WAY HE MOUTHED "I LOVE YOU" WHEN SHE STARTED CRYING... I'm going to need medical attention

liked by carlossainz55, yourinstagram and 3,022,836 others

charles_leclerc Made it with 4 songs to spare. Thank you to:

- Every F1 driver who covered for me

- Pierre for the getaway bag

- Carlos for the media chaos

- Lewis for the helicopter

- Air traffic control

- That uber driver who broke speed limits

- Security who let me run

- Vegas traffic for finally clearing

Worth every second of that sprint 🏃‍♂️❤️ I love you more than anything @/yourinstagram

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username1 SOBBING

username2 I STILL CANT BELIEVE THIS REALLY HAPPENED

username3 doing post race interviews WHILE WALKING was iconic behavior

yourinstagram still can't believe you ran through vegas in race stubble just to see me cry on stage 🥺❤️ love you beyond words

pierregasly Anytime, brother, anytime

username4 you fixing your hair in your phone camera before sitting down... we saw that 👀

username5 ABU DHABI TO VEGAS SPEEDRUN ANY% WORLD RECORD

lorenzotl 🤍🤍

scuderiaferarri Next time we’ll have TWO helicopters ready

username6 this will go down as one of the most iconic moments in pop culture idc

username7 IT COUPLE FOREVER

username8 this entire thing is straight out of a romcom plot i can't

username9 IM CRYING AGAIN

username10 the great escape, 2024

liked by chappelroan, charles_leclerc and 3,099,578 others

yourinstagram and just like that, the lifetimes tour is over. 189 shows, countless memories, and one very special last night. to everyone who made this journey possible - my heart is yours forever.

special thank you to @/charles_leclerc who really said "watch me turn an f1 race to concert speedrun into a romantic gesture" 😭❤️ setting records on and off track baby, i love you so much

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username1 AND BACK TO CRYINGGG

username2 i can't believe this tour is over

charles_leclerc Still worth every mile mon coeur ❤️ I'm yours forever

username3 this man really turned "if he wanted to he would" into an olympic sport

pierregasly This was amazing. Let's not do it again

carlossainz55 Bext time we'll arrange TWO getaway cars

sabrinacarpenter happy for you my girl 💕

username4 from writing songs about crossing oceans to him actually doing it... manifestation is real

username5 "setting records on and off track" GIRL WE SAW HIM SPRINTING 😭

username6 the greatest love story since romeo and juliet except with private jets

username7 SOMEONE CHECK ON ME

username8 THAT LAST PHOTO BYE-

scuderiaferrari Our transport team is already planning routes for next year 😉

username9 AND I CAN'T EVEN GET A TEXT BACK

username10 this is the standard