You Are So Kindness

forever young - ln4

ꨄ lando norris x fem!reader

summary. some memorable moments throughout lando and y/n’s life together that were caught on a camcorder

warnings: swearing, very brief description of y/n (nothing too major), pregnancy

fluff

word count: 5.8k

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the first date

lando and y/n had met at a small coffee shop close to the local supermarket. the moment he laid his eyes upon her it was like the world stopped spinning. he thought that she was the most beautiful girl to have graced earth.

he knew he couldn't leave without asking her out on a date.

although shy, he did manage to ask her out which leads us to where we are today; lando and y/n's very first date.

the two 18 year olds sit on a hand knitted checkered blanket that they had laid down on the grass. a woven wicker picnic basket placed in the middle of the blanket stored all of the food and drinks that lando had prepared early in the morning.

"i hope you like lasagna, that's what i decided to cook." lando says as he takes out the tupperware full of lasagna and two plates from the basket.

y/n gasps excitedly, "it's my favorite food ever!"

lando mentally pats himself on the back, proud of himself for guessing correctly.

the two get to know each other as they eat the delicious homemade lasagna. lando talks about his racing career and y/n talks about her life as a new university student.

as she speaks, lando can't help but look at her with pure adoration, not knowing how he managed to meet the most incredible soul in the entire planet. the way she spoke so intelligently and how passionate she was when talking about her interests made him deeply admire her.

as lando spoke, y/n wondered what she did to deserve such a romantic and respectful young man, something she thought was rare to find these days. the way he opened the car door for her and complimented her in the most reverential ways made her insides feel like jelly, her heart nearly exploding.

after finishing their food, lando begins rummaging through the picnic basket again before pulling out a grey camcorder, showing it to y/n.

"holy shit! you have one of those?!" she exclaims as she stares at the vintage camera.

"yes ma'am, just bought it last week. i haven't filmed anything on it yet? would you mind being my muse?" he raises an eyebrow.

"go ahead," she giggles.

lando presses on some buttons on the camera before beginning to film the gorgeous picturesque scenery. he then points the camera at y/n, she smiles shyly.

"here i am with a beautiful girl named y/n y/l/n, on our first of many dates." lando speaks into the camera, y/n grins and nods along to his words.

he scoots closer to y/n, flipping the camera around so it could film the both of them. "we could show this footage to our future kids." he shrugged his shoulders, turning to look at her.

y/n could feel her cheeks heat up, she was sure the camera would pick up how red they were. "talking about kids on the first date, norris?" she tries to keep a cool demeanor, attempting to conceal the fact that she was going crazy on the inside.

"of course, i'm sure about us." he speaks confidently.

"so am i." y/n smiles.

lando stops recording and places the camera down, reaching for the fork on his plate wiping away any leftover sauce on it with a napkin.

he picks up the camera and the fork before walking towards a nearby tree, beckoning y/n to follow him. she blinks slowly, still processing what had just been recorded but manages to stand quickly and follow him.

"whatcha doing, lando?" she asks once she reaches where he is kneeling.

"this is a special day, we need to remember this." he shows y/n how to record on the camera, asking her if she could film what he was about to do.

she complies and films as he grasps the fork like a makeshift chisel, beginning to etch something into the tree's bark.

L.N. +

07/09/2019

is what was revealed as he steps back from the tree, handing y/n the fork. "write your initials." he instructs with a small smile, making him look so adorable.

and so lando films y/n as she carves her own initials next to the plus sign, adding a little heart under the date, for good measure, she thought.

"this is so cute!" y/n says as she pulls away. "we have to visit this in a few years time." the two nod proudly at their work.

lando makes sure to film the finish product, happily smiling at the mark that they've made.

L.N. + (your initials)

07/09/2019

♡

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the first kiss

tap tap tap.

y/n sits up in bed and begins to look around her room, wondering what could possibly be making such noise this late at night.

she reaches over and turns on the lamp that sat on her nightstand.

what she sees scares the living daylights out of her.

it was lando, wearing a black hoodie and grey sweatpants, tapping his finger on her window.

y/n shakes her head as she chuckles, quickly getting up from the bed and walking towards the window. as she opens it, she’s greeted with chilly air and a giggle from lando.

“what are you doing here, lando norris?” she questions the young boy.

it had been a few weeks since their first date and the two couldn’t get enough of each other. they had gone on some more dates and they texted and facetimed constantly, simply talking about their days or any random deep subject that came to their minds.

he shrugs his shoulders. “did i scare ya?”

“of course you did!” she laughs. “answer my question now.”

“sorry for scaring you,” he smiles sheepishly. “i just wanted to see you.” he confesses.

“sure, come on in, we just have to be quiet my parents are asleep.”

as she opens the window more to let lando in, he stops her. “actually, i was wondering if you’d like to go watch the stars with me.” he timidly says.

y/n grins at his words. “oh yes, of course! let me put on a jacket and my shoes.”

lando watches as she slips on a pink hoodie and her dirty white converse before she makes her way back to him.

with the help of him, y/n successfully managed to exit the window safely, avoiding any injuries big or small.

once she closes it, lando interlocks hands with her and leads her down the road, the street lights illuminating their path.

after a few minutes of walking, they finally made arrived at an empty field, where the stars were shining beautifully in the night sky, the full moon seemed to brighten up the field.

lando lays down on the grass, y/n following his lead.

“guess what i brought?” he speaks up after a few moments of silence.

“chocolate?” she crosses her fingers.

lando chuckles, “well yes that, i know how much you love it.” he pulls out a chocolate bar from the pocket of his sweatpants. she happily takes it and begins unwrapping it.

“but also this,” now he reaches into the pocket of his hoodie, taking out the very familiar camcorder.

y/n laughs as she sees it. “how fun, our kids are gonna know we were stargazing.”

“of course, they need to realize that we’re living like the romance movies.” lando continues the playful conversation.

the two continue staring up at the stars in awe, wondering how twinkling white specks could be so endearing and relaxing.

“i think you’re the most gorgeous star in the galaxy, y/n.” lando quietly says, looking over at her and admiring her beautifully sculpted side profile and her perfect plump lips, lips that she’s caught him staring at multiple times.

“you’re so cheesy, lan!” she giggles, attempting to hide how flustered she was.

lando flipped onto his side, facing y/n. she copies his actions and turns her body to watch him.

“i’m serious.” lando says, his eyes flickering down to her pink lips.

he feels himself begin to lean in and y/n can’t help but lean in too.

their lips meet in the middle, the two feel as if fireworks have erupted in their stomachs. hearts pounding in their chests as they finally take another step forward in their relationship.

lando forgets all about the stargazing. of course he would, when he’s got the most perfect star right in front of him.

breathlessly, they pull away, quickly missing the feeling of each others lips.

“oh my god, we just did that!” y/n exclaims as she stares into his eyes.

“hell yeah we did!” lando grins too.

he grabs the camcorder that he had left in between their bodies, pressing the record button and outstretching his arm to begin filming the both of them.

“guess who just kissed for the first time?!” he practically hollers, pulling y/n closer to his body.

“christ, lando!” y/n laughs as she buries her head into his chest, breathing in the smell of laundry detergent and cologne that lingered in his clothes.

“our kids need to know the very day when their parents first kissed.” he claims before stopping the recording and setting the camera down.

the two couldn’t keep their lips off of each other and there under the night sky adorned with scintillating stars, they find their own celestial connection.

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the first time moving in together

“this is the new apartment!” y/n exclaims as she opens the front door and films the interior of the stunning apartment, located in the breathtaking city of monte-carlo, monaco.

lando and y/n decided it was time to officially live together after three years of dating. they had been pretty much living together at each others apartments back in the uk, but now they wanted a single place to call home.

lando had brought up the idea of moving to monaco, claiming it was more convenient for racing along with the amazing weather and city life. after researching the country and the university, y/n agreed to moving with him.

lando walks in behind her, a little puppy cradled in his arms.

she was a tan cocker spaniel named betty that the couple adopted at a local animal shelter. her sweet gaze behind the kennel bars immediately caught their eye and they knew they couldn’t leave without her.

“this is your new home, betty-boo.” lando says gently as he places the puppy down, she runs down the hallway and begins exploring the place, y/n making sure to film her.

lando takes the camera from y/n’s hands, recording her as she walks into the kitchen.

“look how big it is in here! imagine all of the things i can bake!” she claps her hands excitedly.

betty runs into the kitchen after hearing all of the commotion, barking happily at y/n’s enthusiasm.

lando places the camera down on the kitchen island before opening one of the boxes that had been placed on the floor. he pulls out two wine glasses and an expensive looking wine bottle.

“charles had gifted me wine this past race,” lando informs y/n as she stares, mesmerized at the pretty bottle. “he said that it was a ‘welcome home wine’, and i somewhat trust his taste in alcohol.” he shrugs as he pours the red wine into the glasses, sliding one of them towards y/n.

he reaches for the record button, pressing it and making sure y/n and betty, whom she had picked up from the floor, were in frame.

“here’s to a new chapter in our lives, baby.” lando says as he raises his glass.

“i hope to keep turning pages with you, lan.” the two smile lovingly at each other before clinking their glasses and taking a sip, a look of amazement on both of their faces at the rich tasting beverage.

“i love you.” lando says before pressing a long and tender kiss on y/n’s lips. “you too, little muppet.” he scratches behind betty’s ears, she cheerfully licks his palm.

“i love you too.” y/n sighs contentedly. “now we need to decorate and make this place feel like home!” she places the puppy down on the floor before skipping towards the entrance hallway, where the rest of the boxes were set down.

the camera manages to capture the way lando watches her adoringly. he had adopted a new puppy and moved into a new apartment in a new city, all with the love of his life by his side. in his mind, he already found his happily ever after.

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the wedding day

to say that both lando and y/n were nervous is an understatement.

today was the officially their wedding day, the one day they looked forward to the most when they were those young 18 year olds on their very first date together.

y/n picks up the well known camcorder, pressing record and filming her professionally done hair and makeup.

she lets out a deep breath, “i’m so excited but so nervous at the same time.” she says to the camera as she films her ethereal white dress in the mirror. the dress stunningly made of ivory silk and lace fits her body perfectly, making her look like a goddess. delicate, beaded embroidery adorns the dress, shimmering like diamonds in the light.

“lan, i know you’ll be watching this footage back and i just wanted to say that i love you so very much and i’m the luckiest girl in the entire world to be marrying such an amazing man.” she blows a quick kiss to the camera before shutting it off.

she passes the camera off to lily, oscar’s girlfriend and one of her bridesmaids, asking if she could please take it to where lando currently was.

lily fulfills y/n’s wishes and successfully gives the camera to lando in the room where he was getting ready.

lando stands confidently as films his perfectly tailored suit. the jacket skims his broad shoulders, accentuating his strong physique. the crisp white shirt contrast elegantly with the suit’s dark hue, the tie adding a splash of color, drawing attention to his bright smile.

“holy fuck, i can’t wait to see her.” he grins at the camera, showing just how eager he was. “who would’ve thought little lando norris would be marrying the most amazing woman in the universe?” he chuckles as he straightens out his tie.

a knock is heard on the door. “fuck, okay, it’s time!”

the camera is passed to lando’s mom, cisca, and luckily, she perfectly filmed y/n being walked down the aisle by her parents. cisca also catches a few seconds of lando wiping his teary eyes.

soon come the vows, the part that lando and y/n have been waiting for the most.

lando starts with his vows first. “y/n y/l/n, from the day i saw you in that little old coffee shop, i thought you were the most beautiful woman to ever exist. luckily, i didn’t chicken out and i asked you out on a date, sure i was awkward but it was worth it. on that very first date, i knew i wanted to marry you.” he clears his throat and wipes his wet cheeks.

“your sense of humor, your taste in music, your kindness, and just you being yourself made me fall harder and harder for you. i couldn’t have asked for anyone better, thank you for putting up with me and my hectic lifestyle for over seven years now. you’ve been my rock, my shoulder to cry on, the person i can count on the most when times get rough. i promise to love and adore everything about you for as long as i’m alive. we’re doing it, angel, we’re finally getting married and i can’t wait to spend the rest of my life making memories with you. you are my forever home, my soulmate, and my everything, let’s grow old together, my love.”

y/n quickly composes her crying self before clearing her throat and beginning her vows.

“lando norris, from day one, you have been the most respectful man i have ever met. when you carved our initials into that special tree in the park, i knew you were the one. you’ve showed me love and affection that i have never in my life experienced and i thank you so much for that. i promise to continue supporting you in any possible dream that you have just like you have supported mine all these years. i will stand by your side through all of life’s joys and challenges, to laugh with you, cry with you, and build a life that will be full of so much love and adventures. i will always love you without condition. you make me a better person. i love you now, and i will love you forever. as you said, let’s grow old together and allow our souls to stay forever young.” she finishes her vows, the couple wiping their cheeks wet with so many tears of happiness.

next, the rings are exchanged. cisca makes sure to zoom in on the beautiful bands that gleam with a luminous polish, symbolizing their everlasting love and commitment.

“you may now kiss the bride.” the officiant says when all is said and done.

lando has zero hesitation in cupping y/n’s face in his hands and smashing his lips against hers. finally, kissing his wife.

“ladies and gentlemen, please meet mr. and mrs. norris!”

y/n and lando walk down the aisle hand in hand, their eyes crinkling as they grin brightly at everyone who sat in the crowd and joined them on such a special day.

short bits of the rest of the party were filmed until the couple could finally plop down onto their hotel bed once the night had come to an end.

the two were showered and in their pj’s by the time lando picks up the camcorder from the nightstand, filming both him and y/n as they lay in bed.

“how’re you feeling after this amazing day?” lando says with a smug smile on his lips.

“i’m feeling great, how are you feeling?” y/n giggles as he agrees with her words

lando presses a chaste kiss to her lips, “i truly can’t wait to grow old with you, mrs. norris.”

y/n reciprocates the kiss, “and i can’t wait to grow old with you, mr. norris.”

betty comes running in from the other room, jumping onto the bed and snuggling into her parents.

the newlywed couple laughs and kiss the dog’s head before falling asleep, pure happiness radiating off of all three of their bodies.

and the small one growing inside of y/n…

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finding out y/n is pregnant

y/n hadn't been feeling good at all, her stomach was not happy with her for some unknown reason.

it was so bad to the point where the honeymoon had to be cut a few days short due to y/n not feeling the best.

she felt extremely bad for being the reason that they couldn't enjoy the honeymoon completely, but with lando's understanding and reassurance, she somewhat felt better.

so, she did what her gut was telling her to do, and that was take a pregnancy test.

lando was at a meeting with the team, doing some testing and talking about some potential upgrades for the car. it was the perfect opportunity for y/n to take the test.

she sets the familiar camcorder down onto the bathroom counter, deciding that, if she was pregnant, it would be cute to capture the moment on camera and show her child when they were older.

"okay, so i just did what i needed to do with the test," y/n says into the camera as she sets a timer on her phone. "i'm really excited, i honestly want it to come out positive." she grins.

she hears a light scratching at the bathroom door, quickly knowing who it was, she opens up the door for betty.

y/n picks her up from the ground. "you ready to see if mommy is going to be a human mommy, betty-boo?" she coos at the dog, kissing her head a few times.

as she does that, the timer on her phone goes off, indicating that it was time to find out if she was pregnant or not.

"okay betty, you look first," y/n shuts her eyes to show betty first, and while betty didn't pay much attention to the test, it's the thought that counts.

she exhales, "okay, my turn, my turn. three, two, one..." she opens her eyes, the test showing the word 'pregnant' clearly.

y/n gasps loudly, tears immediately filling her eyes. "betty i am going to be a human mommy!" she exclaims as betty licks at the salty tears on her cheeks, y/n puts her down quickly after.

she shows the camera the pregnancy test, covering her mouth with her hand as she cries into it. it was pure happiness, no sad tears coming from her.

"oh my god, i can't wait to tell lando!"

she stops recording and runs to the small storage closet in the closet, pulling out the photo book that her and lando created when they first started dating. throughout the years, they've filled it with all kinds of pictures and memorable items. the most recent pictures were from their, short, but lovely honeymoon.

y/n places the pregnancy test into one of the pockets in the continuing page from the one they had just finished before closing it up.

finally, after three hours of y/n buzzing with excitement, lando arrives home. she greets him with a long and sweet kiss to his lips.

"i'm gonna go shower, then we can order some pizza and continue watching love island, yeah?" lando says against her lips, causing her to nod her head.

"i have something to show you after your shower." y/n says which causes lando to gasp.

"ooh, a surprise, how exciting!" he exclaims. y/n laughs and slaps his butt as he walks to their shared bedroom.

lando looks back with a cheeky smile, winking at her.

y/n shakes her head as she giggles. she sets the camcorder up behind the tv, making sure it would perfectly get the two of them in frame before grabbing the photo book from the kitchen counter and sitting on the couch to wait for lando.

he quickly comes walking out of the bedroom in comfortable clothing, his slightly wet curly hair drips small droplets onto his white shirt.

betty jumps onto the couch as soon as lando plops down next to y/n. "i just ordered the food. what did you want to show me, beautiful?" he pulls betty closer to his side, beginning to scratch her belly.

"i added some more things to our book, take a look at it." she places the photo book onto his lap.

lando retracts his hand from betty's body and starts to flip to the page where they last left off at. he pauses as soon as he sees the pregnancy test, turning to look at y/n.

"you're lying, angel!" he says, a look of shock on his face.

y/n shakes her head, biting her lip. "i'm not lying, i promise. i just took the test today."

"holy shit!" he throws the book on top of the coffee table, before pulling y/n onto his lap. she was now straddling him as he wraps his arms around her waist, hers instinctively going around his neck.

"we're going to be human parents!" he exclaims into her neck, pressing a quick kiss to it.

"i know, my love." y/n pulls away from the hug to kiss his lips, he practically melts into her lips, sighing contentedly.

“ha!” y/n cackles. “we were probably in this position making the baby.” she rubs her stomach.

“fuckin, hell, y/n!” lando groans as he throws his head back to laugh.

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showing their kids the footage

fourteen years have passed since y/n and lando’s wedding, the couple now reaching 40 years of age.

fourteen years have passed since their daughters were born.

it turns out that y/n was having twin girls during her first pregnancy. their names were nadia and nailea. the two girls were extremely easy to care for as babies and even now as teenagers, they haven’t caused y/n and lando much trouble.

because the two girls were such a breeze to raise, they decided to have another baby once the girls were four years old. he was a boy named, quinn.

quinn wasn’t bratty or a bad kid, no. he was just extremely chaotic, somehow always managing to hurt himself and never seeming to run out of energy.

lando noticed that it wasn’t going to be easy for y/n to raise such an energetic kid alone while he was away for races, so he made the decision to retire from formula one at the age of 36.

on top of that, he simply wanted to spend more time with his family. after missing so many of his kids milestones because he was away racing, he realized that he didn’t want to leave them anymore.

“mom, can you tell me what you and dad’s first date like?” nadia asks as she eats her dinner at the kitchen island, her green eyes, that she got from her father, sparkle with curiosity.

y/n chuckles as she finishes wiping down the counter, recalling all of the memories her and lando have made. “well, sweetie, i don’t have to tell you, i can just show you.”

nadia furrows her eyebrows. nailea, who sits besides her sister, also looks at her mother with confusion.

“you know that super old camcorder that we have, the one that we use to film you guys sometimes?” y/n asks as she covers the pot on the stove with its lid.

“oh yeah!” the twins say at the same time.

“your dad and i have had that thing since we were eighteen years old.” y/n explains, laughing at their eyes going extremely wide.

“eighteen?!” nailea exclaims. “that was years ago!”

“what was years ago?” lando asks as he walks through the front door of the house, quinn being carried on his back.

the two girls jump from their seat, greeting their dad who had just come back from playing golf with his friend carlos; someone who he had raced alongside with and remained good friends even after both of their retirements.

“i told them that we’ve had the camcorder since we were eighteen.” y/n explains as she walks over to lando, kissing his lips.

“oh yeah! that thing’s been through a lot, i’m genuinely surprised it still works.” lando exclaims as he sets quinn down, he quickly runs to the living room

“can we watch all of the footage?” nadia asks as she sits back down on the counter stool.

“sweetheart, it’s hours of footage.” lando tells her as he makes his way to the stove, grabbing a plate to serve himself food.

“that’s okay! it’s summer, dad. it’s not like we have school tomorrow.” nailea gives her best puppy dog eyes, something that neither y/n and lando can say ‘no’ to.

“fine, let me eat dinner and shower, okay?” the two girls squeal before washing their dirty dishes and making their way to the living room.

“guess we’ll be rewatching our life together, my love.” lando smiles. “fuck, this is good.” he exclaims as he eats some of the food.

y/n giggles, “thank you, lan. and yes, we will be rewatching our life together, i’m surprised we haven’t done this sooner.”

an hour later, the family of five was gathered around the living room. lando had done some technical stuff to get the tapes to play on the tv. neither y/n nor the kids knew what he did to achieve that, but it wasn’t very important, they cared about the footage.

“okay, you guys ready?” lando asks as his finger hovers the play button on the controller.

he heard a chorus of ‘yes!’ before pressing down on the button.

the first video comes up, the date marking ‘07/09/2019’, it was the day of their very first date.

“oh my god! 2019?! that was billions of years ago!” quinn exclaims from his place on the couch. the family giggles at the ten year old’s words.

“that tree engraving is so cute.” nadia says.

the videos continue changing, until they reach the one about their first kiss.

“guess who just had their first kiss?!” lando’s holler comes from the tv, the twins laugh the hardest out of everyone.

“dad, you really haven’t changed.” nailea says, her attention still on the screen. lando can’t help but smile at his daughter’s words, at least they found him amusing.

a video of the sweet cocker spaniel puppy soon pops up, y/n and lando pouted. “oh, little betty-boo.” y/n says sadly. unfortunately, betty had passed away from old age a few years back and y/n and lando have never thought about getting another dog since.

“hey, i remember her!” nadia gasps. luckily, the twins did get to meet the dog, but it was in her final years.

lando and y/n quickly wipe their tears away as the footage of their wedding day appears.

“you looked so gorgeous that day, i’m so lucky to have married you.” lando whispers into y/n’s ear, causing her to smile and kiss his cheek.

“oh my god! the vows were so cute!” nadia cries into her hands, she had always been the most emotional out of the three kids.

nailea quickly wraps an arm around her shoulders. lando and y/n watch proudly at how fast nailea is at consoling her twin sister.

the video of y/n finding out she was pregnant for the first time plays next, everyone coos at betty who appeared on the screen.

“ha! we were probably in this position making the baby.” y/n’s cackle is heard from the tv. her eyes immediately widen, forgetting she ever said that.

lando snorts right next to her, she hides her face in her hands.

“wait, what’s so funny?” sweet little quinn’s voice speaks up.

“nothing, my love, just ignore it.” y/n quickly says, causing lando to laugh even harder now.

as the videos of the kids’ life start appearing, the three slowly fall asleep. they were seemingly more interested in learning about their parents life before them than they were over footage of them as babies.

“look at the life we’ve built together.” lando squeezes y/n’s shoulders as he speaks quietly.

“i can’t believe how far we’ve come.” she looks up at her husband, the love and adoration in their eyes remains the same even after so many years together.

“i love you so much.” she whispers.

“i love you more.” he kisses the lips of the love of his life.

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30 years later…

lando and y/n continued to love each other for so many more years.

their kids had grown up, starting families of their own and living in different places around the world.

the couple decided to move back to the uk, deciding that it was much more calm and peaceful here than monaco.

they lived in a small cozy house, near the park where they had they first date, decades ago.

y/n sits at the round dining table, flipping through the pages of the photo book of their life together.

lando walks into the dining room, his walk a little slower but still as cheerful as when he was a youngster.

“what are you looking at, my darling wife?” he asks as he sees his wife flipping through something.

“just the book of us.” y/n says as she looks up at her lovely husband.

lando’s face was a map of their journey together, every line and wrinkle was a testament to the laughter, tears and adventures they’ve shared. his once curly dark brown hair was now silver and wispy, it continues to frame his face with a distinguished grace. yet in y/n’s eyes, he continues being the most handsome man ever, his elder face was a reflection of the beauty and depth of their love.

“oh wow.” he whispers in amazement at the pictures of their young selves. “what if we visit that park, huh?”

y/n gasps, “yes, we must!” she slowly stands from the chair, grabbing her knitted sweater from the hook on the wall.

the elder couple make their way to the park. the walk should be a short one, however it was hard to be quick at their age.

when they finally arrive, lando immediately makes his way to the special tree, holding on to y/n’s hand so she can follow closely behind him.

“do you think our engraving would still be here?” he asks as he reaches the tree that holds so much importance to them.

“let’s hope it is.” y/n smiles.

to their surprise, the engraving is still perfectly intact.

y/n inhales shakily, “it’s still here.” her voice cracks as tears begin welling in her eyes.

“oh my...” lando lets out a deep breath, he can’t help the tears that also fill his eyes.

memories of their life together, from when they were tiny eighteen year olds to now in their seventies, come flashing through their minds. so much devotion and happiness shared between them. of course, there were a few bad parts but any problem was resolved by the power of their love and respect.

“we did it, sweet girl, we grew old together.” lando says as he wraps and arm around y/n’s shoulder and pulls her closer to his side, the two couldn’t seem to shift their gaze from the engraving.

“we did, lan. we grew old together.”

lando presses a kiss to y/n’s gray hair.

the single kiss shows the love he always had and will have for her. it was also a thank you for such an amazing life, and demonstrating what true love is.

y/n kisses his cheek.

the kiss is her saying thank you for being such a kind and respectful gentleman. a thank you for always showering her with love and affection all of her life.

sure, many people would want to stay forever young,

but to lando and y/n, growing old together was always their goal and they’ve accomplished it.

the two lived their happily ever after.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

fin.

remember this is purely fiction! i don’t know what any of these people are truly like in real life!

©sjkbri

don’t copy or translate my work on any other platform

HYPNOTIZED BY YOU

Lando Norris X fem!reader

Summary: When Y/n makes a commercial for McLaren's new release, and her boyfriend is completely mesmerized by the video and his girlfriend.

Words: 2.2K+

Warnings: Suggestive words, Brazilian protagonist, mention of former pilot, clearly fictitious commercial, mention of famous Brazilian woman, provocations and suggestive ending.

Author: English is not my first language, so apologies for any spelling, grammar and slang mistakes that may be in the story. And of course, this idea is totally crazy hahaha and I also wanted to bring more Brazilian protagonists❤️🇧🇷

MASTERLIST

The initial silence is broken by the precise sound of high heels hitting the polished floor. The camera slowly pans down to reveal a woman’s silhouette walking confidently. The stiletto heel of her Saint Laurent shoes resonates in the room as she approaches a futuristic, luxurious McLaren car, the brand’s latest launch.

The camera pans up to reveal Y/n. Dressed in a black, tailored jumpsuit made of shiny fabric and modern cuts, she exudes power and elegance. Her hair is flawless, loose in waves, and sunglasses adorn her face. Without hesitation, she slides her hand over the shiny bodywork of the car and steps inside. Before closing the door, she turns to the camera, lowers her glasses slightly and winks. The car's engine purrs, and the scene cuts to black.

Now, the sound of new heels echoes through the same room, but this time in a different tone. The camera focuses on the feet of another woman walking with the same elegance, but with a classic touch. The thick heel of the boots and the discreet shine of the leather highlight Adriane Galisteu's class. As the camera moves up, we see her approaching a historic McLaren, the iconic model that Ayrton Senna drove on the streets of Monaco as a hobby off the track in the 90s. She is wearing an impeccable white outfit, with vintage cuts and a belt accentuating her waist.

The commercial cuts between scenes of Y/n driving the modern car through a tunnel lit by vibrant lights and Adriane at the wheel of the classic car, cruising down a deserted road, enveloped by an orange sunset. Both exude confidence and control, the past and future of McLaren represented in them.

At the climax of the video, Y/n and Adriane are leaning against their respective cars, side by side. Adriane looks at Y/n with a smirk and declares: "I am the past."

Then, Y/n turns to the camera and adds: "And me, the future."

Some might say it was a reference to boyfriends, and others would say it was about cars. But regardless of the situation, this would catch the attention of all audiences.

With a determined look, they both exchange keys, throwing them to each other in the air, catching them with precision. Then, Y/n walks over to the classic car, while Adriane heads over to the newer model. Before the screen goes black, the iconic McLaren logo appears, with both of their names below.

Lando left the McLaren meeting with his phone in hand, already swiping his finger across the screen, ready to check the latest updates. As soon as he opened Instagram, the team's commercial video appeared at the top of his feed, and he clicked on it without thinking twice.

The click of heels made his curiosity grow, and when the image revealed Y/n walking confidently up to the latest model McLaren, his eyes widened. The wink at the camera made his heart skip a beat, and he was so immersed that, qhen the video ended and the phrase "I am the past" - "And I am the future" echoed in his head, he almost dropped his cell phone on the floor.

"Holy shit..." He muttered, still staring at the screen.

Beside him, Oscar, who had been following his friend down the hallway, let out a laugh. "You look like a teenager watching his crush's video for the first time." He said with a laugh. "Breathe, Norris."

Lando frowned for a second, but he couldn't fight back. He knew his girlfriend had filmed a special commercial for McLaren and had even cheered her on when the invitation came, but he definitely wasn't prepared for this.

He spent the rest of the day watching the video over and over again, always finding a new detail to admire: the way Y/n smiled while driving, the elegant way she took off her glasses, the confidence in her gaze. At that moment, he concluded: this was, without a doubt, his favorite video of his life.

•••••••••••••••••••••••

Back at the apartment, Lando arrived earlier than usual. And what did he do? He threw himself on the couch, opened Instagram and watched the commercial for the thousandth time that day.

The phrase "And I the future" ran through his mind as he stared at the screen, admiring every detail of his girlfriend's charming smile.

He was so focused that he didn't even notice when the apartment door opened and Y/n entered.

"The weather was perfect for running!" She commented, taking off her headphones and tying her hair up tighter. "But I think it's going to rain in five minutes, so I decided to head back." She went straight to the kitchen, grabbing fruit and the blender to make a juice. "Lan? Honey, are you really home?" She asked absently, as she cut the fruit.

Lando, who was already standing and with a mischievous smile on his face, appeared in the kitchen with his cell phone in his hand. "Hey, honey, I'm home" He said, leaning against the counter.

Y/n looked up and smiled at him, but before she could continue the conversation, Lando held out his phone to her.

"Your commercial went on social media today. Have you seen it?"

Y/n's eyes lit up with excitement. "Really? Let me take a look!"

She wiped her hands and ran to his side. Lando smiled as he pressed play, even though he knew he had already memorized every second of the video. He wrapped an arm around her waist, stealing glances and watching his girlfriend's excited reaction.

As she watched, Y/n smiled and made spontaneous comments. "Wow, I was so nervous to direct this..." She mumbled at one point, chuckling softly.

When she got to the key exchange scene, she laughed out loud, "You have no idea how many times we messed that up! Either I threw the key on the floor or I hit Adriane!"

Lando watched her every reaction, fascinated, and with a silly smile on his face. But while Y/n just saw the commercial as a job well done, he saw something completely different: she was simply irresistible.

The video ended, but he remained still, processing everything once more.

Y/n, not noticing her boyfriend's state, went back to the other side of the counter and continued cutting the fruit. "Adriane was very nice! She calmed me down before we started recording and said it was normal to be nervous for such a big first job." She smiles, cutting a strawberry. "She told me a lot of funny stories about Senna too and we even agreed to meet for coffee when I go to Brazil to visit my family! I never imagined that one day I would meet her. She is simply incredible."

Lando listened to every word, but his mind was elsewhere. Leaning against the counter, he had a mischievous smile on his face and a mischievous look in his eyes,

There was Y/n, exuding naturalness and excitement, in gym clothes, her hair tied up and a light sheen of sweat on her skin. And he, on the other hand, all he could think about was how lucky he was to have such a hot girlfriend. Beautiful. Nice. And radiant.

And that left him completely mesmerized.

Lando sat on the high stool near the counter, his elbows resting on the surface while his phone scrolled endlessly through Tik Tok. He smiled to himself, delighted, as he watched the edits that fans had made of Y/n's commercial. Some had soundtracks that ranged from Brazilian funk to iconic international songs.

Y/n, oblivious, continued to speak excitedly.

One in particular caught his attention. The video began with a dramatic cut of Y/n smiling at the camera before getting into the car, accompanied by the chorus of Happy Nation. He opened the comments section, curious to see the audience's reaction.

'Who's luckier? Y/n for dating Lando or Lando for dating Y/n?'

'Senna, Prost, Hamilton... and now Y/n, the new McLaren legend.'

'I fell in love with this woman in 30 seconds.'

'I never wanted to be a McLaren car, until now.

Lando laughed out loud as he read that last one and shook his head. "These fans are crazy..." He muttered to himself, but deep down, he understood.

On the other side of the counter, Y/n was calm, drinking the natural juice she prepared, while she began to prepare a snack for the two of them. It was then that she noticed that the same song was playing repeatedly on Lando's cell phone. He looked at the screen with a silly smile, clearly glazed.

She arched an eyebrow, bringing the glass of juice to her mouth before casually blurting out, "You've already watched it before me, haven't you?"

Lando looked up from the screen and smiled, feigning innocence. "Why do you think that?"

Y/n rolled her eyes, giving a half smile. "The way you've been looking at me since I arrived. And that mischievous little smile of yours isn't fooling anyone."

Lando laughed. Okay, she got it. He slid the phone across the counter toward her. "Okay, okay. Check this out."

Y/n picked up the device and watched the edit. It was a short but well-produced video, bringing together several scenes from the commercial, alternating between her looks at the camera, the moment the keys were thrown and, of course, the famous phrase: 'I am the past.' - 'And I, the future.'

She laughed, but her cheeks flushed slightly. "Wow... That's really well done."

Lando, watching closely, noticed the way the color spread across her face and smiled. "Oh no, are you blushing? That's too cute."

She rolled her eyes and laughed, handing the phone back to him. "I just didn't expect it to be so popular. It was my first modeling job. I'm just... Y/n!! A Brazilian girl who works in an office in the UK and dates a Formula 1 driver."

Lando smiled and shook his head. "You were never 'just' Y/n. You're the love of my life!"

She laughed, looking away, but he continued to watch more videos, increasingly impressed by the creativity of his fans.

"Wow, you got too professional with this. I think I need an autograph now that my girlfriend has become a star."

Y/n laughed, throwing the bread wrapper at him. "If you want, I can teach you how to walk with style like in the commercial."

"Hmm..." Lando muttered, smiling mischievously.

Before she knew it, he had gotten up from the stool and walked around the counter, approaching silently until he was right behind her.

Y/n was still focused on her snack when she felt his hands on her waist and the heat of his body against her back. He slid the phone onto the counter and lowered his head, leaving a soft kiss on her neck.

She tried to remain normal, but her breath hitched for a second. "Lando..." She whispered, feeling goosebumps run down her skin.

The pilot smiled against her skin and leaned in a little closer, bringing his lips to her ear. "I think I like the real thing better..." He murmured, his voice low and slurred. "But I have to admit, seeing you drive like that was kind of...stimulating."

Y/n turned to face him, a mischievous smile dancing on her lips. "Exciting, huh?"

Lando nodded slowly, his gaze locked on hers. "Extremely!!"

The challenge in Y/n's eyes made him smile before he pulled her waist, pressing their bodies together, and kissed her.

The kiss started slowly, but soon intensified. It was hot, deep, full of desire and admiration. Lando's hands gripped her waist while Y/n's moved up to his hair, pulling lightly.

The seconds dragged on, each moment made the most of, until they parted slightly, their lips still almost touching as satisfied smiles formed on their faces.

"So... I guess you liked the commercial" Y/n joked, arching an eyebrow.

Lando chuckled, resting his forehead against hers. "I think I'm hypnotized by you."

The McLaren driver stole one more kiss from Y/n's lips before leaving her to finish preparing the snack, but made a mental note that those kisses needed to be continued later.

With a mischievous smile, he took two strawberries from the tray and handed one to his girlfriend. "I want to try to recreate that scene where you throw the keys to Galisteu" he said, holding the fruit between his fingers.

Y/n let out a laugh, catching the strawberry confidently. "You don't understand, Norris. I rehearsed that scene so much that I'm now an expert at throwing things in the air."

Lando arched an eyebrow in amusement and stepped back a little to make room. "Let's see, then. On three!"

He counted and at the same time, they threw the strawberries to each other. Y/n caught hers with ease, while Lando, despite being an F1 driver with sharp reflexes, fumbled a bit before finally catching the strawberry in mid-air.

"And look, you're an F1 driver" Y/n teased, laughing. "Improve those reflexes, handsome!"

Lando rolled his eyes, smiling, and returned the strawberry to the tray before leaning slightly toward her.

"I was nervous, you know? Having to catch a strawberry in mid-air while McLaren's newest star is right in front of me..."

Y/n laughed, rolling her eyes, and moved close enough to lightly hit his chest. "You're insufferable sometimes, you know that?"

Lando held her hand against his chest and smiled in a way that made Y/n's heart beat faster. "But you love me anyway."

Y/n let out a theatrical sigh, feigning surrender, and smiled. "Unfortunately for me... yes."

He laughed and before she could escape, he pulled her in for another kiss. This time, he was in no rush to finish.

Author: Damn, that was cool to write hahaha

⟡ ᴹᴬˢᵀᴱᴿᴸᴵˢᵀˢ ⟡

NONE OF THESE ARE WRITTEN BY ME

ᵐʸ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ʳᵉᶜˢ

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the parent trap (remake) | CS 55

cast: carlos sainz x fem!reader

warn: 100% fiction & remake

next chap

PART 16 BACK TO PAST MEMORIES

The afternoon had been a whirlwind—full of surprises, chaos, and more surprises. So, when Carlos and Matheo stepped out of the hotel lobby together, both dressed in formal attire, Carlos couldn't help but feel a little on edge. 

“Matheo…” Carlos tilted his head, tugging at the stiff collar of his shirt as he eyed his son. “There have been ‘way’ too many surprises today. Can you at least tell me where we’re going?” 

Matheo grin was as mischievous as ever. “I already told you, Dad—it’s a surprise.” 

Carlos rolled his eyes dramatically. “All right, I wish I am not about to get struck by lightning or something.” 

As they walked towards the entrance of the hotel, Carlos caught sight of Y/N, who was walking out with Mattia. Both were impeccably dressed, though Carlos’s gaze naturally lingered on the Y/N longer than he’d admit. 

The twins exchanged a knowing glance, the kind of secretive look that sent chills down a parent’s spine. Carlos sighed deeply. “This doesn’t feel like it’s going to end well.” 

Y/N approached him, smoothing down her dress. “Hey… any idea what the kids are up to?” 

Carlos shook his head. “No clue. Matheo won’t tell me a thing.” 

Y/N nodded “I see.”

The limo ride that followed was short, yet somehow stretched an eternity in awkward anticipation. Carlos couldn’t shake the feeling that he and Y/N were being set up. By the time they arrived at a port, the confusion on their faces was mutual. 

“Kids…” Carlos stared at the waterfront with raised eyebrows. “Is this where we’re eating?” 

Mattia smirked. “Nope!” 

Matheo pointed towards the dock, where a stunning yacht was illuminated against the evening sky. “That’s where we’re going to have dinner.” 

Carlos’s jaw nearly hit the floor. “The yacht? You’re joking.” 

But they weren’t joking. 

The group made their way onto the boat, Carlos firing questions as quickly as his brain could process what was happening. “Matheo, how exactly are we paying for this?” 

“We gave all our savings,” Matheo said, his tone suspiciously nonchalant. 

Carlos raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, sure, Theo. Try again.” 

“Well… I call Grandpa Sainz yesterday, he have helped a ‘little’ bit,” Matheo admitted sheepishly. 

“Matheo,” Carlos said, gave his son a pointed look. 

Matheo grinned up at him. “What? It helped a lot.” 

Mattia quickly interjected, tugging on Y/N’s dress. “Come on, Mom. You’re going to love this.” 

The families was ushered inside the yacht, where they stopped at an elegant door. Matheo turned to them with a grin so wide it practically screamed trouble. “Mrs. Y/LN, Mr. Sainz… your dinner is served.” 

The door swung open, revealing a beautifully set table in the middle of the room. Flowers and candles decorated the space, their soft glow reflected in the surrounding windows that overlooked the water. Y/N gasped quietly, clearly impressed by the romantic setup, while Carlos scanned the scene, his eyes narrowing. 

“Uh… kids? There are only two chairs,” he pointed out, gesturing at the table. 

Matheo’s face lit up. “Exactly! That’s part two of the surprise. We’re ‘not’ having dinner with you!” 

Y/N laughed nervously, trying to mask her growing unease. “Oh? And who will be joining us then?” 

Right on cue, Chessy appeared, stepping into the room in an immaculately with a chef form. “Good evening,” she announced, a sly smile playing on her lips. “My name is Chessy, and I’ll be your assistant tonight. Comments, questions, and complaints? Not accepted.” 

Behind her, Martin entered, holding a bottle of wine with an almost angelic smile. “And I, Martin, will be your sommelier this evening. Let’s hope you drink just enough to forget that these two troublemakers roped us into this.” 

Carlos blinked. “Wait. You’re the staff tonight?” 

Chessy shrugged, clearly unfazed by the question. “Mattia, music please.” 

Mattia darted to the corner of the room, hitting play on a small speaker. A soft, romantic ballad filled the space, the melody blending perfectly with the gentle rocking of the yacht. 

“Relax,” Mattia said, his voice brimming with excitement. “Sail through time!” 

“And enjoy the evening,” Matheo added with a dramatic wave of his hand. 

The twins turned to leave, practically skipping out of the room. Y/N and Carlos exchanged hesitant glances, neither daring to speak as the reality of the situation sank in. 

“Well,” Y/N said after a long pause, her voice barely above a whisper. “This is… weird.” 

Carlos groaned, slumping into one of the chairs. “Remind me to ground those two when this is over.” 

But as the soft music played and Martin poured the wine, Carlos couldn’t help but crack a smile. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Chessy watched as the children disappeared from sight, their laughter fading into the distance. She turned to her companions, her brow furrowed. “Have you seen the evil plan?” she asked, her tone suspicious but tinged with humor.

Y/N adjusted the black-colored scarf around her neck, the gesture betraying her nervousness. “Yes, yes,” she muttered, trying to gather her thoughts. “I’m starting to understand what’s happening.”

Carlos glanced around, his eyes landing on a lifebuoy decorated with a familiar name. A flicker of recognition crossed his face. “It’s just like when we first met,” he said softly, his voice carrying a hint of nostalgia. “The boat, the music...”

“The service,” Chessy added with a smirk.

Y/N, ever the romantic, took in the scene with sincere appreciation. “Everything is... very beautiful,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Carlos turned to Martin with a playful grin. “Martin, would you please accept a drink?” he asked, gesturing toward the bar.

Martin and chessy shared a knowing smile as they obediently took their drinks. Martin gave Chessy a subtle signal, and the two of them quietly slipped away, leaving Carlos and Y/N alone.

As the soft hum of the waves provided a serene backdrop, Carlos leaned against the balcony of the boat. He hesitated for a moment before confessing, “To be honest, I haven’t been on a boat since that time.”

Y/N joined him at the railing, their shoulders almost brushing. “Me neither,” she admitted, her voice tinged with vulnerability. He avoided Carlos’s gaze, focusing instead on the horizon. But Carlos wasn’t one to shy away. Raising his glass, he proposed, “Well, then, here’s to, uh…”

“Our son,” Y/N interjected quickly, finally meeting Carlos’s eyes.

The sincerity in her voice made Carlos pause, his own glass hovering mid-air. “Our son,” Carlos repeated, clinking his glass against Y/N’s. A small, almost imperceptible smile graced his lips, though it looked more like a grimace born of mixed emotions.

Their moment of connection was abruptly interrupted when Carlos caught sight of their children peeking through the small windows of the cabin doors. As soon as they realized they’d been discovered, the kids ducked out of sight with impressive speed.

Gathering his courage, Carlos turned to face her fully. “Y/N... if we can ever be completely alone, I’d like to talk about what happened between us. Because it ended so quickly.”

Y/N’s expression softened, though a flicker of hesitation lingered. “It started very fast,” she replied, her tone layered with meaning.

Carlos’s signature charming smile returned. “I remember that part very well,” he teased.

Y/N’s lips curved into a small smile, betraying her own memories of their whirlwind beginning.

Meanwhile, Chessy and Martin, who were spying discreetly from a corner, exchanged satisfied glances. “It seems like everything is going well,” Chessy commented, her tone light.

“I think the same,” Martin replied, his eyes still fixed on the couple.

She motioned toward the kitchen. “Come on, we have to serve the appetizers.”

Martin nodded, momentarily flustered by Chessy’s charm. “O-of course,” he stammered, following her.

Back at the table, Y/N and Carlos settled into their seats. Y/N broke the silence first. “So, tell me, Carlos. You’ve done very well in life, haven’t you?” she gestured to the wine bottle. “Your brand is on the rise every day.”

Carlos adjusted his napkin, his expression modest. “And you? I remember your notebooks full of amazing designs. Have you been able to pursue that?”

Y/N smiled, clearly touched that Carlos remembered. “Yes, that’s right. We both fulfilled our dreams, didn’t we?”

Chessy entered with two plates in hand, interrupting the moment. As she set the meals down, Y/N’s mind wandered back to their children. “What are we going to do with them?” she asked, her voice tinged with concern.

Carlos sighed, his fingers tapping against the table. “Well, the two of them have already met. It’ll be impossible to separate them now.”

Y/N pondered for a moment. “I could stay with them for half a year, and you for the other half,” she suggested tentatively.

Chessy, still lingering nearby, shook her head. “Hey... kids can’t go to different schools every year. It wouldn’t make sense.”

Carlos nodded in agreement. “You’re right.”

Y/N’s brow furrowed as she tried to come up with a solution. “Well, I could take them for a full year, and you the next?”

Chessy’s disapproval was evident. “Still not a great idea,” she said bluntly.

Carlos glanced at her, then back at Y/N. Realizing the tension, Chessy quickly excused herself. “Oh... sorry, I’m leaving.”

Y/N couldn't help but let a soft chuckle escape, amused by the small slip-up that had just happened. It was one of those moments that lightened the tension, if only briefly.

"Anyway," Carlos began, attempting to steer the conversation back on track, "that’s why we had our previous agreement."

Y/N raised a skeptical eyebrow, her expression equal parts curious and doubtful. "Really? I thought it was because... well, because we didn’t want to be together anymore."

Carlos shifted in his seat, biting his lip as though the memory still stung. "No," he admitted quietly, "it wasn’t both of us."

Y/N leaned back slightly, folding her arms in front of him. "Well," she said, her voice laced with a mix of reflection and mild defensiveness, "that part has gotten a little fuzzy over the years."

Carlos tilted his head, as if deciding how much to push. "Do you remember the day you packed your things?" he asked, his tone gentle but probing.

Y/N hesitated, her brow furrowing in thought. "Yes... but I don’t remember everything about it. I think I hurt you with something I did... that was..." She trailed off, struggling to grasp the specifics.

Carlos’ lips quirked into a bittersweet smile as he helped jog Y/N’ memory. "You threw a plant at me," he reminded her.

Y/N’ cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she let out a self-conscious laugh. "True," she admitted, rubbing her dress. The memory, though distant, still carried a pang of awkwardness.

Carlos leaned forward slightly, his voice softening as he tried to tread carefully. "Y/N, maybe we’ll never have the chance to truly be alone, but I’d really like to talk about what happened between us. Honestly."

Y/N’ gaze sharpened as she rested her chin on her folded hands, giving Carlos her full attention. There was a weight to the air between them, a vulnerability they’d both spent years avoiding.

"Why did you do it?" Carlos asked suddenly, his voice quieter but filled with curiosity and an edge of hurt.

Y/N took a deep breath, the words slow to form. "Ah... Carlos, we were young. We didn’t know what we were doing. We said stupid things. I packed everything, got on the first plane, and left." Her voice wavered slightly as she finally dared to meet Carlos’ eyes, her smile fragile. "And... you didn’t come after me."

Carlos froze, caught off guard by the directness of Y/N’ words. "I didn’t think you wanted me to follow you," he admitted after a pause, his voice tinged with regret.

Y/N wrinkled her nose slightly at the response, a bitter half-smile playing on her lips. "Well, that doesn’t matter anymore," she said, brushing off the lingering ache with practiced ease. "What matters now is figuring this out for our children."

Carlos sighed deeply, the tension between them palpable. "Yes," he agreed, though his voice lacked conviction. " for their sake, we need to figure this out." He broke eye contact, focusing instead on finishing his drink as though it could wash away the uncomfortable emotions.

Y/N noticed the subtle shift in Carlos’ demeanor, the way his shoulders tightened ever so slightly. To distract herself from the growing heaviness in the room, Y/N picked up her spoon and took a small sip of her soup. It was more out of habit than hunger, but it gave her something to do as the silence stretched on, thick and unyielding.

*****

Y/N and Carlos stood at the hotel’s front desk, sorting through their paperwork to finalize the check-out process. Both of them were an odd mix of calm efficiency and subtle tension, their movements synchronized from years of parenting together, yet their silence spoke volumes.

“Mrs. Y/LN, everything is ready,” Martin, her butler, announced, handing Y/N their neatly stacked passports.

Y/N gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you, Martin. Do you know if Mattia is ready?”

Martin nodded. “I just called him. He shouldn’t be long coming down.”

Satisfied, Y/N turned back to her half-packed suitcase. Without looking at Carlos, she spoke in a measured tone. “So... Mattia will spend Christmas with you.”

Carlos didn’t miss a beat. “And Matheo will spend Easter with you,” he replied smoothly.

Their eyes met briefly, each weighing unspoken words that hovered between them. But before either could say anything more, the soft chime of the elevator broke the moment. Turning toward the sound, they saw their twin sons step out. Y/N and Carlos instantly froze—the boys were dressed identically in pink shirts.

“Mattia, what are you doing dressed like that?” Y/N asked, her voice tinged with confusion and mild annoyance. “We’re leaving for London. You need to change.”

One of the twins crossed his arms, a smug smile playing on his face. “Here’s the thing, Mom. We’ve been talking, and we think we’re being fooled.”

Carlos raised an eyebrow. “Fooled? By who?”

The other twin stepped forward, matching his brother’s stance. “By you and mom. You promised us summer camp. We want to go… together.”

Y/N exchanged a baffled glance with Carlos. “What camp?” Carlos finally asked.

“The one we always go to before school starts,” the first twin clarified, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Y/N took a deep breath, her patience already wearing thin. “Mattia, this is ridiculous. Go upstairs and change. We’re leaving.”

“Are you sure I’m Mattia?” the boy countered, tilting his head innocently.

Y/N shot him a sharp look. “Of course, I’m sure.”

The other twin piped up, a mischievous glint in his eye. “But it’s hard to be 100% sure, isn’t it?”

Both boys grinned, clearly enjoying the chaos they were causing.

Carlos pinched the bridge of his nose. “Kids, this isn’t funny. You’re going to make your mom miss her plane.”

Y/N’s frustration bubbled over. “Mattia!” she snapped.

“Yes?” both boys answered in perfect unison.

Carlos squatted slightly to their eye level, seeing them carefully. After a moment, he pointed to the boy on his right. “You’re Matheo. I’m not mistaken.”

The boy smirked. “Are you sure, Dad? Because it wouldn’t be a good idea to send the wrong child to London again.”

Carlos hesitated, his confidence faltering. He stepped back with a resigned sigh. Y/N threw him an exasperated look, silently pleading for backup, but Carlos simply shrugged, powerless against their twins’ well-executed plan.

“Alright, I have a proposal,” one of the twins declared, stepping forward as if he were brokering a business deal. “Let’s go to Dad’s house, pack everything, and the four of us will go camping together.”

Y/N blinked, completely thrown off. “The four of us?”

“Exactly,” the other twin chimed in. “And when we get back, we’ll tell you who’s Mattia and who’s Matheo.”

Y/N crossed her arms, his patience hanging by a thread. “You’ll do as you’re told. One of you is coming back to London with me, whether you like it or not.” Her voice warned them in an angry mother tone, but the twins were unfazed.

Both boys grinned again, clearly enjoying the chaos they had unleashed. Y/N turned to Carlos, desperate. “You’re their dad! Do something!”

Carlos scratched the back of his neck, suppressing a laugh. “To be fair, this is kind of genius.”

Y/N groaned. “Not helping.”

prev chap

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. . .

he had it coming

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟa reputation series *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

face claim: sabrina carpenter (just had to because shes gorgeous)

max verstappen x singer! reader

BAD BLOOD ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

summary: the one where a private phone call gets leaked, no one gets the full picture and people are quick to judge

date posted: 12.10.2024

I DONT WANNA LIVE FOREVERˏˋ°•*⁀➷

summary: the one where the public begins to scrutinize to an unbearable point, threats are made and a specific popstar disappears

date posted: 20.10.24

LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

summary: the one where she's gone radio silent, everyone settles down and someone begins to plot revenge

date posted: 25.10.24

READY FOR IT ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

summary: the one where she's adjusted to a new life, she begins to let out her feelings and she meets someone new

date posted: 26.10.24

DELICATE ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

summary: the one where she has reservations, everything's a bit fragile for her and hes persistent

date posted: 26.10.24

ENDGAME ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

summary: the one where new beginnings are made, a second championship is one and she allows herself to fall

date posted: 31.10.24

DRESS ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

summary: the one where she admits her feelings, he buys her dinner and they talk about the future

date posted: 6.11.24

KING OF MY HEART ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

summary: the one where she loudly love him, she begins a new era and he never stops loving her

date posted: 2.12.24

DANCING WITH OUR HANDS TIED ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

summary: the one where new rumors begin, secrets start to be revealed and they never stop loving each other

date posted: 2.12.24

CALL IT WHAT YOU WANT ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

summary: the one where she finally steps into the limelight, writes one more song about her lover and begins to move on

date posted: 3.12.24

THIS IS WHY WE CANT HAVE NICE THINGS ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

summary: the one in the wake of reputation, people begin to forget and a new story is written

date posted: tbc

thanK you aIMee ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

summary: the one where she reflects on the past, calls out people who hurt her and begins her life

date posted: tbc

_____________________________________________

NEW SERIES!!!!

reply to this to be added to the taglist guysss

Pagan Gods || SB5

Summary: In the face of his own sins, he had no choice but to kneel and venerate.

cw: just a smut drabble with sebastian vettel

a/n: That doesn't mean my return yet, just thoughts about Sebastian Vettel that Twitter has been feeding in me (the things I would let Seb do to me)

•• 🇧🇷 ••

He knew it was a way for him to pay for all his sins. Lewis had warned him:

“Brazilian women are different, you are not prepared for them.”

And he wasn't, Y/N passed through his life like a hurricane, shaking his convictions, snatching a space that not even he knew was vacant. When Sebastian realized, he was on his knees for her, worshiping her as if she were a goddess, a pagan deity that needed to be worshipped every day, forever. And nothing would give him more pleasure than being on his knees for her, for her. Only Y/N and his car were capable of making him fall.

He had just won the 2012 championship, the world was once again, under the tires of his car, the team wanted to celebrate with him, his parents outside, wanting to congratulate him on the victory, journalists wanted to interview him, but Sebaatian just wanted those legs to suffocate him again.

“Seb, f-fuck,” she gasped, pulling at the blond curls under her summer dress, trembling with each stroke of his tongue against her clit. Sebastian didn't even give her time to lie down, or sit up; he pushed her against the wall, fell to his knees in front of her and like a starving man, ripped her panties off and ate her. “Holy God, s-slow down Sebastian!”

“So fucking good, puppe” he grunted, licking her taste from his mouth.

He looked at her, trembling, panting and sweaty, shining as only paradise could look. “Moan softly, love… I don't want anyone hearing my wife moaning while I make her cum,” he ordered, grabbing her pussy again. Y/N opened her mouth, only a soft whisper escaping her lips, the orgasm growing in her womb like a huge wave. Sebastian didn't let her think, react or even breathe. It all came down to his mouth sucking her clit as if it were the last thing he could do. She closed her eyes, letting her body melt under his attack, and dear God, she was burning.

Without her being able to think, Sebastian pushed her to the small bed and lifted her dress until Y/N was almost naked before him.

He leaned over her, licking the Brazilian's hard nipples, loving her pleading moans. He opened the jumpsuit in a hurry and got between his girlfriend's hot, wet folds. She sank her nails into his back, grinding with every inch. of his cock that entered. he kissed her, giving her everything he had, his love, his devotion, the world he had just won, Y/N was a goddess and he was her faithful, her acolyte, a profane god ready to put everything at her disposal, including her right there.

stream madness pt.3

Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: Lando Norris and his girlfriend, Y/N continue to grace the stream with tooth-achingly sweet moments, often caught on camera. But they’re not immune to some naughty slip-ups, much to Max F's dismay.

Words: 3.9k

Warnings: swearing, suggestive content

part 1 | part 2

Mic On

It was already well into the night, and somehow, Max had convinced Lando to hop on his Twitch stream for a late-night Counter-Strike session. They were in between rounds when the door creaked open, and Y/N walked in.

Lando tugs off one side of his headset the moment he felt her hand rest on his shoulder, tilting his head back to look up at her.

“Oh, hey baby. How was dinner?” he murmured, catching her hand in his and pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles.

Y/N smiled, running her fingers through his hair, making his eyes flutter shut for a brief second. “It was good. You’re on stream?”

“Mhmm.” He nodded, completely unbothered, yanking off his headset entirely.

Max’s voice suddenly boomed through the speakers. “Hey Y/N! Chat’s been looking for you.”

Y/N laughed, settling into the empty gaming chair beside Lando. “Sorry, chat. I was out with friends.”

Y/N’s eyes continued to scan the chat, answering a few questions every now and then, completely unaware of the way Lando was staring.

He hadn’t looked away since the moment she walked in. Not once.

Max was still talking, chat was flying, but Lando? Lando was somewhere else entirely.

Y/N finally glanced over, catching his intense gaze. She raised a brow, lips curving into a small smile. “What?”

Her soft voice snapped him out of his trance, but instead of looking flustered, Lando’s lips curled into a mischievous grin. He didn’t answer right away—just leaned in slightly, fingers reaching for his mic.

An attempt to mute himself.

Except—

He missed.

He tugs her chair a little closer, his hand sliding onto her lap as that familiar cheeky smirk plays on his lips.

“I was just thinking… you look really good right now, my love. Do you wanna—”

"MIC ON! MIC ON! YOUR MIC IS STILL ON!"

Max’s panicked scream blasted through the speakers.

Max’s panicked shouts made both of them jump, Y/N spinning her chair away in embarrassment while Lando nearly slid off his own chair from laughing.

Chat was going feral.

Lando, still wheezing, finally managed to get words out. “I just wanted to ask if she wanted to stay on the stream and play with us!”

Max, still skeptical, narrowed his eyes through the screen. “Sure, Lando. Sure.”

Lando shook his head, clicking his tongue. “Get your head out of the gutter, mate. Dirty bastard.”

Y/N, still red-faced, simply sighed. The damage was already done.

"max always having to come to their rescue will never not be funny" "LN was ready to risk it all" "cant blame bob, Y/N looks amazing" "MAX SHOUTING" "Please tell me someone clipped that"

------------------------------------------------------

Fish are friends NOT food

"Baby, please. Your food is touching my food."

Lando’s whiny complaint made both Max and Y/N pause mid-chew, turning to look at him like he’d just announced he was retiring from racing to become a monk.

Max glanced over at Lando’s plate, unimpressed, before shaking his head with a chuckle. "You're unbelievable, mate."

"It's just sushi, Lan" Y/N muttered, barely sparing him a glance as she scrolled through her phone.

"It's fish!" Lando exclaimed, holding up his plate dramatically for the camera, zooming in to prove how his spring rolls were daring to brush against Y/N’s salmon nigiri.

Max snorted. “Grow up, Lando.”

Lando huffed, crossing his arms. "You grow up." He looks over at his girlfriend, pleading eyes "Baby please, I don't even want to touch it"

“Lan…” Y/N sighed in defeat, picking up the piece of sushi he was so dramatically complaining about and popping it into her mouth. “Happy?”

Lando watched in absolute horror, his face scrunching up like he’d just witnessed a crime. He shivered at the mere thought of it. “Don’t know how you can eat that… raw too.”

Y/N smirked, grabbing another piece. She held it up to him. “Try it. Come on.”

“No.”

“I promise you it’s good.”

“And I promise you I’m gonna be sick.” Lando leaned back, holding his arm out like she was trying to feed him actual poison.

Max, watching the whole thing unfold, burst out laughing. “This is the farthest I’ve ever seen Lando be from Y/N while being in the same room as her.”

Chat? Losing it.

"HE’S SO DRAMATIC I CAN’T" "MAX WITH THE LIVE COMMENTARY" "bro is scared of sushi"

“I’ll do a photoshoot for Quadrant merch if you eat one piece.”

Silence.

Both Max and Lando’s heads snapped toward Y/N so fast they could’ve gotten whiplash.

Y/N had denied every single request to model for Quadrant—begged, bribed, guilt-tripped—nothing had worked. Until now.

Max turned to the camera, mouth slightly agape. “Do you guys understand how long we’ve been asking Y/N to model for us? They weren’t even dating yet and we were already trying to convince her.”

Lando’s gaze flickered between the sushi and Y/N, eyes filled with pure despair and conflict.

“Two collections,” he blurted out.

Y/N blinked. “What?”

“You have to model for two collections” Lando negotiated, like this was a high-stakes F1 contract and not about eating a single piece of fish.

Max and Y/N exchanged glances before bursting into laughter.

“There you go, chat,” Max said, shaking his head in disbelief. “Now you know we’re working on two new collections, thanks to Lando’s terrible bargaining skills.”

Lando groaned, realizing he had just leaked their upcoming release in real time.

“Fine,” Y/N conceded, “but you have to actually chew and swallow it.”

Lando narrowed his eyes. “AND… you do a shoot with me for LN4 merch too.”

The room fell silent again.

Max watched in amusement as Lando and Y/N locked eyes, neither blinking, waiting to see who would fold first.

Max smirked. “This is the most intense negotiation I’ve ever witnessed, and I’ve seen Alpine and McLaren fight over Oscar Piastri.”

Finally, Y/N held out her hand. “Deal.”

Lando took it, but instead of shaking, he brought it up to his lips and kissed it. “Deal.”

Max exploded. “I can’t believe this is happening. Someone clip this, please, I’m begging—fuck it, I gotta film this.” He fumbled for his phone, nearly knocking over his drink in the process.

Lando let out a deep, dramatic breath, grabbing his water bottle like it was his lifeline.

Y/N’s smile stretched wide, almost devilish, as she slowly inched the piece of sushi closer to Lando’s mouth.

“Open up, cutie,” she cooed.

Lando shot her a look of betrayal, but he had already sealed his fate. With a deep breath, he took the piece into his mouth, chewing at full speed, eyes squeezed shut like he was enduring actual pain.

Max was already cackling.

Lando forced himself to swallow, then dramatically opened his mouth wide to prove it was gone before immediately chugging half his water bottle like his life depended on it.

Y/N and Max? Wheezing.

Max threw his hands up. “And history has been made!”

Still recovering, Lando grabbed a spring roll and took the biggest bite possible, desperately trying to erase the taste of fish from his mouth.

Y/N ruffled his hair, grinning proudly. “Proud of you, my love. I’m telling Carlos about your bravery today.”

Lando nearly choked on his spring roll. “No. You are not.”

"HE TOOK IT LIKE A CHAMP" "Lando vs. Sushi—Sushi wins" "CARLOS NEEDS TO HEAR ABOUT THIS ASAP"

------------------------------------------------------

Australia GP

Max had woken up far too early, but the excitement for the Australia race had him buzzing. He’d set up his stream, ready to deliver some live commentary for his viewers as they watched the race unfold. Max had already talked about Lando's stellar performance from practice and qualifying, and of course, a handful of jabs about Y/N's debut on the big screen.

As the camera cut to Y/N chatting with Cisca, Lando’s mom, during the red flag pause, Max’s eyes lit up.

“Ah, there she is! WAG title stealer!” Max exclaimed, clapping his hands loudly as the broadcast showed Y/N mid-conversation, the words "Lando’s partner" flashing across the screen beneath her name.

The chat exploded with laughing emojis as Max quickly snapped a picture on his phone, an evil smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’m sending this straight to Lando. He’s gonna love this. Bro is down bad for her, it's actually sickening”

The race hadn’t exactly gone according to plan. Max was feeling empathetic for all the rookies, as well as Carlos and Fernando, who were all out of the race early, DNFing one by one. But what really sent everyone into a bit of a spiral was when both McLarens went off-track, and then Oscar slid off into the grass.

Max kept going with his commentary, his usual sharp observations now mixed with praise for Oscar’s effort to get his car back on track. He was doing his best to keep it light, but when the camera cut to a replay of the McLaren garage’s reaction, Max couldn’t help himself.

“Oh dear,” Max chuckled softly, eyes glued to the screen. “Look at Y/N. I think she aged 10 years and it’s only race 1 of 24.”

Y/N’s face was a mix of concern and pure stress, tightly holding hands with Cisca as she watched her partner’s car struggle. Her eyes went wide when Oscar’s car slipped, and the pressure was visible on her face.

Max, clearly enjoying himself, added, “Poor Y/N looks like she’s about to start a full-on grey hair collection.”

The chat was absolutely losing it.

"MAX IS SO SAVAGE LMAO" "Y/N'S FACE JUST AGES A DECADE" "she's just like us" "SOMEONE CHECK ON Y/N SHE'S ABOUT TO HAVE A MELTDOWN"

------------------------------------------------------

Swirly Pistachi-OH!

Max and Lando sat side by side, setting up a lobby to play a new game, both of them already gearing up for the chaos that would ensue. The vibe was relaxed, but that quickly shifted when the door opened, and Y/N walked in, looking absolutely fuming.

"Lando! I can't believe you. I've—"

Max immediately reaches over and mutes his mic, the tension in the room rising as both he and Max exchanged brief glances. Y/N didn’t even acknowledge them, her hands waving around, clearly heated about whatever had just happened. Her eyes locked onto Lando,

Lando can be seen reaching out to her, both now in deep conversation while Max sat there like a child caught in the middle of his parents arguing.

Lando can be seen running his hands through his hair, immediately reaching for his phone as she stormed off, clearly done with the argument.

Max, ever the opportunist, unmuted himself with a small sigh. “Alright, so… that argument?” He chuckled, shaking his head. “It was about who ate her ice cream from the freezer”

Lando, still rubbing his temples in frustration, groaned. “Mate, keep your voice down, she has super hearing.”

Max burst into laughter, throwing his head back. “Chat’s probably thinking it’s something serious”

Before Lando could respond, the door slammed open again with a dramatic flair, and there stood Y/N, hands on her hips, eyes practically smoking with fury.

"It was swirly pistachi-oh— Fewtrell, you know how hard it is to get a hold of that!" she snapped, voice sharp as a knife.

Lando pursed his lips, doing his absolute best to hold back his laughter, but it was clear he was about to lose it. He could feel Max trying to hide his grin beside him, but Lando knew the minute Y/N saw him struggling, it was only going to make things worse.

Max, still processing, blinked a few times in disbelief. “Wait, like Lec’s swirly pistachio? Charles Leclerc’s?”

Y/N shot Max a look that could melt steel. “Yes, Max. Charles' ice cream. It sells out so fast around here, it’s like gold. And Lando—” she turned her glare to him, the look of death now firmly in place, “—decided to eat my stash. The whole thing. All of it.”

Lando couldn’t keep it in anymore and burst into laughter, clutching his stomach as the weight of the situation hit him. But the moment he saw Y/N's expression change—eyebrows raised, hands on her hips like she was ready to deliver an epic punishment—his laughter faltered.

Y/N squinted at him like he had just committed war crimes. “Oh, you think this is funny?”

Lando immediately stopped laughing and put his hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright, I’m sorry, baby, please… Come here.”

But Y/N stood firm, not budging an inch. Her arms stayed crossed, her expression still ice-cold.

Lando’s smile faltered as he stood up to walk towards her. “Come on, my love… I already texted Charles to see if he can get us some more,” he said, doing his best to sound sweet and sincere, though the grin trying to form on his face was absolutely betraying him.

Y/N eyed him suspiciously, her lips pursed in the tightest line. “You texted Charles? Before apologizing to me?”

Lando hesitated, then shrugged sheepishly. “Well, he’s the pistachio supplier, isn’t he? Just trying to get the best deal for us.”

Max, now full-on crying from laughing, added, “You know, I think Charles might just have one last scoop left in his freezer. You’ve got to pull out the big guns, mate.”

Lando pulls her into a tight hug while shooting Max a glare that could only be described as a silent plea for mercy. But as Y/N’s gaze softened slightly, he knew he might just be getting out of this one alive… for now.

------------------------------------------------------

The Accidental Moan

Lando and Max were deep into a heated game of Tarkov, and Y/N walked in, casually leaning against the doorframe, watching the two of them play. She walks over behind Lando’s chair, arms folded as she observed their chaotic gameplay.

Lando glanced up at her, offering a playful grin. “Hi, my love. Wanna grab a chair and join us?”

Y/N smiled, shaking her head, her fingers threading through Lando’s messy curls. “I’m good. Just making food right now. Came to check on you two.”

Max groaned from the other side of the room. “Perfect timing. I’m starving.”

Y/N laughed. “I know, you’ve been playing for hours.”

Lando leaned back in his seat, humming contentedly as she ran her fingers through his hair. “Mmm, that feels nice, baby,” he sighed, half-losing focus on the game as he relaxed into her touch.

Y/N grinned, her fingers still running through his hair. “Your hair’s a bit tangled, you know.”

Max snorted from the other side. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure he hasn’t seen a brush in weeks.”

Lando smirked, keeping his eyes on the screen but clearly enjoying the attention. “I like it like this.”

Y/N laughed lightly, “I’m sure you do.” She leaned down to give him a quick kiss on the top of his head as he leaned into her touch.

“Alright, I gotta go check on the food,” Y/N said, pulling her hands away from his hair. But as she did, something unexpected happened.

Her fingers got caught in the tangles of his curls, and as she moved away, it pulled harshly, making Lando let out a loud, unintentional moan.

Max, mid-game, froze. His eyes widened in shock. “What the fuck was that?!”

Y/N froze too, her face immediately turning a shade of red. She stood there, staring at Lando, unsure how to recover.

Lando, now realizing exactly what just happened, doubled over in laughter, his face bright red. “I swear, it wasn’t what it sounded like,” he managed to say between fits of giggles.

Max, still shocked, looked from Lando to Y/N, his face full of disbelief. “Oh no, it was exactly what it sounded like”

Lando, trying to stop laughing but failing miserably, looked at Y/N. “Oh baby...” He burst into laughter again, shaking his head.

Y/N, standing frozen with her hands still awkwardly in the air, just shook her head, biting back a laugh herself. “I didn’t mean to—” she started but was cut off by Lando’s giggles. "You know what, i'm leaving" Y/N shakes her head as she rushes out of the room

Max and Lando, still laughing at the absurdity of the situation, wiped tears from their eyes. “I can’t—I can’t even focus now,” Max gasped, trying to regain his composure.

Lando, still chuckling, shook his head, attempting to steady himself. “Yeah, alright, I’m good. I’m good.”

They both took deep breaths, trying their best to get back into the game.

Max, still grinning like a Cheshire cat, clicked his tongue and looked at Lando. “So... hair pulling, huh?”

“Shut up, Max.”

"LANDO IS INTO HAIR PULLING" "max's face!" "POOR Y/N" "LANDO CAUGHT ON LIVE AGAIN"

------------------------------------------------------

Make me pretty

Viewers slowly began to fill Max's stream, immediately flooding the chat with comments about the unusual setting. The camera was focused on Lando, who was sitting in a make-up chair, while Y/N stood off to the side, rummaging through a pouch.

Max clapped his hands and grinned. “Alright, chat, welcome!”

Lando flashed a smile and gave a small wave to the camera. “Bit of a different setup today, we managed to rent out a tiny studio for an impromptu shoot,” Max explained.

Y/N returned to stand between Lando’s legs, gently dabbing a make-up sponge on his face.

“Y/N’s the one making sure Lando looks presentable today,” Max added.

Lando tilted his head slightly, looking up at her with a soft smile. “Make me pretty, baby.”

Y/N chuckled, carefully applying concealer. “I can if you'd stop moving so much”

Max stood to the side, watching intently. “Can you make him look like Carlos?”

Y/N didn’t miss a beat, scoffing as she carefully worked on Lando’s face. “I said I can make him look pretty, Max, not like a Spanish model. I’m not God.”

Max choked back a laugh, and Lando’s jaw dropped as he stared at Y/N, utterly bewildered. “Are you saying Carlos looks so good you can’t even make me look remotely like him?”

Y/N shot him a playful smirk as she continued her work. “Took the words right out of my mouth, baby.”

Lando shakes his head, looking at the camera and pointing a finger at it. “My girlfriend, everybody…”

“I’m kidding, Lan, come on!” Y/N laughs, tilting his face back to look at her as she brushes powder onto his face. Lando scrunches up his nose. “That tickles.”

Y/N chuckles at his reaction, planting a quick peck on his nose. “All done. See? Gorgeous.”

Lando looks at himself in the mirror, nodding with satisfaction. “Damn, I look good.”

Y/N stops him from getting up. “I gotta do your hair, baby. Just a little longer.”

Lando glances at the clock and then back at her. “You gotta hurry up a bit, love. Need to do Max’s makeup too, and we both know that’s gonna take you nearly the whole day just to make him look half decent.”

Max, who’s been silently listening to the conversation, suddenly snaps. “Why the fuck am I catching strays? I haven’t said a word in the past five minutes!”

“Max, come on mate, look at you. You look ghastly. You feeling okay lately?” Lando grinned

Max shot him a glare, rolling his eyes. “You look ill, Lando. Have you seen yourself?”

Lando waved him off dramatically. “Seriously, Max. I’m getting worried here. You look like you need a bit more TLC. Maybe a nap... an exorcism?”

Max groaned. “I hate you. You’re so annoying.”

Lando smirked. “You’re annoying.”

Meanwhile, Y/N stood silently with a hairbrush in hand, staring at the camera. Her expression was a mix of exhaustion and quiet desperation, as if she was silently pleading for help from the viewers as the two continued to bicker like an old married couple. “Help me…” she muttered under her breath, eyes still locked on the camera.

------------------------------------------------------

2 Hands

Lando and Max were on their respective twitch streams, playing a rather relaxed game of UNO. It wasn't until Max decided to cheekily check Lando's stream to sneak a peak of his cards.

What surprised him, however, was his friend who had an annoyingly smug smirk on his face, his other hand no where in sight. And his girlfriend, suspisciously sat quietly beside him, wrapped in a blanket.

"You naughty little shit"

Lando’s whole body tenses. Y/N immediately looks away, suddenly very interested in the chat messages scrolling by at the speed of light.

Max’s smirk widens. "Hand check. Right now"

Lando, the master of deflection, tries to laugh it off as he shows his hand that was once set on the mouse. "Mate, what do you mean? My hands are—"

"Nah nah nah, show me both hands. Now!"

The chat goes feral.

"MAX IS ONTO THEM." 🕵️‍♂️"Lando’s sweating LMAO.""Y/N LOOKS GUILTY ASF."

After a long, agonizing pause, Lando finally raises his hands, one noticeably slower than the other. Max absolutely loses it.

"YOU NASTY LITTLE FUCK!" he cackles, pointing accusingly.

"Oh come on Max it was just on her bo—"

"Lando!" Y/N shouts and hides their face in her hoodie, and chat is now 100% convinced they just witnessed history.

Max: 1 | Lando: -100 | Y/N: Applying for Witness Protection

------------------------------------------------------

Sim-sanity

Lando and Y/N glances behind them as Max walks into the room, a couple of bags of food in hand, his face a mix of annoyance and hunger.

"You two should just throw your phones away, I've been trying to call you for an hour" Max grumbles, shaking his head as he drops the bags onto the table.

Y/N smirks, grabbing one of the bags. "Hello to you too, grumpy." She starts pulling out boxes of food, her attention split between Max and the chaos on Lando's screen.

Lando, who’s completely absorbed in his game, glances up just long enough to acknowledge Max. "Oh you're here"

Max eyes the screen, raising an eyebrow. "Oh nice, Y/N, you're finally sharing your Sims with the stream?"

Y/N rolls her eyes but keeps pulling food out of the bag, clearly not impressed. "That's Lando's Sim. I was supposed to play, but he hogged it."

Max laughs as he leans in, squinting at the characters on the screen. "Mate, is that you and Y/N? Hold up, they actually look like you two. It's kinda freaky..."

Lando grins, still not taking his eyes off the game. "Yeah, I found a pre-made version of me and spent hours making Y/N."

Y/N shrugs as she digs into her food, rolling her eyes again. "He wouldn’t even let me play. Spent hours on it and wouldn't let me touch it."

Lando, not missing a beat, taps his mic as if it’s a casual question. "Chat—should we hire a nanny for Livie or should I quit my job and stay home?"

Max freezes. "Who the hell is Livie?"

"Our kid, Max," Lando says, looking at him as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. "Keep up."

Y/N looks at Max, nodding seriously. "Yeah, we’ve got two kids now."

Lando, eyes glued to the screen, clicks furiously as he navigates through the Sims world, completely absorbed in his virtual family.

Y/N and Max exchange amused glances, trying not to laugh at how seriously he’s taking the game.

"Kind of concerning how invested he is in this," Max says, his voice low, as he watches Lando’s furrowed brow. "He doesn’t even play VR golf with this much concentration."

Y/N, chuckling under her breath, leans back in her chair, shaking her head. "Oh, Max, no. He’s really invested. Don’t let the quiet fool you—he’s planning their whole life. I'm pretty sure our Sims' kids are more organized than we are."

Lando leans back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head with a satisfied grin. "Alright, baby, Livie’s grown enough, and Sim me just quit his job. Time to woohoo for our third baby," he says nonchalantly, his fingers still hovering over the keyboard as if he’s casually discussing his grocery list.

"You're mental"

White Horse - Chapter 13: February 2024 - Part 2

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Isabelle Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen is a World Champion. Isabelle Leclerc is invisible.

She watched her family give up everything for Charles’ career—Arthur’s karting, their father’s savings, even her childhood horse. She understood. She never asked for more.

But Max does. He notices the things no one else does, listens when no one else will, and puts her first in ways she never imagined. With him, she isn’t an afterthought—she’s a choice. And for the first time, she realizes she doesn’t have to be invisible.

Warnings and Notes: 

we have now moved on from Charles bashing to bashing his whole family, Discussions of toxic past relationships, talk about loosing a childhood pet, toxic families, Me trying to write therapy sessions.

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

Group Chat: HELP ME

(Members: Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri, Daniel Ricciardo, Carlos Sainz, Lewis Hamilton)

Lando: ok wait, are we sending flowers??

Oscar: flowers seem good

Daniel: FLOWERS YES but like what KIND of flowers

Lando: nothing too funeral Lando: nothing too romantic Lando: nothing too "you almost died but like in a chill way"

Lewis: you guys are the worst crisis team I’ve ever seen

Oscar: YOU’RE IN THIS TOO LEWIS

Lewis: i’m saying it with love.

Daniel: ok no roses…roses feel wrong

Carlos: no lilies either, too funeral

Lando: sunflowers??

Oscar: too happy Oscar: feels like "yay you survived!" party energy

Daniel: small soft bouquet?

Lewis: yeah Lewis: something like daisies Lewis: baby’s breath Lewis: stuff that feels gentle

Oscar: Lewis Hamilton out here secretly a florist

Lando: I KNEW IT

Lewis: I just have better taste than you idiots.

Carlos: confirmed.

Daniel: ok so like gentle happy survival flowers

Oscar: can we also send cookies?

Lando: yesssssssss

Lewis: i’m ordering them now Lewis: no glitter. Lewis: no weird colors. Lewis: keep it simple.

Daniel: who’s writing the card???

Lando: "Dear Belle: Sorry the world is trash. Love, some idiots who are rooting for you."

Oscar: perfect.

Carlos: send it.

***

Text Messages: Daniel Ricciardo & Max Verstappen

Daniel: Hey mate. Daniel:  Just heard from Lewis what happened last night. Daniel:  Wanted to check — is Belle okay?

Max: Yeah. Mild concussion. Some bruises. They kept her overnight for observation. She’s home now. Resting.

Daniel: Fuck, man. Daniel:  I’m glad she’s alright. Daniel:  That must’ve been scary as hell.

Max: It was.

Daniel: If you need anything. Daniel:  Or if she needs anything. Daniel:  You know — groceries, errands, new car — whatever. Daniel:  We’re all around.

Max: Appreciate it. Thanks, mate.

Daniel: Seriously, anything. Daniel:  Give her a hug from all of us, yeah? We’ll send flowers. Oscar insisted on Cookies too. 

Max: I’ll tell her. She’ll appreciate it.

Daniel: Good. Tell her we’re all thinking about her. ***

Leclerc Family Group Chat

(Members: Arthur, Isabelle, Charles, Lorenzo and Pascale)

Arthur: Hey, can you grab croissants on your way over?

Charles: And coffee. Please.

Lorenzo: Maman needs flowers for her lunch today.

Pascale: Isabelle, mon ange, if you have time, could you pick up some things from the market?

Isabelle: Yeah, no. Can’t. I was in a car accident last night.

Arthur: ???

Charles: WHAT.

Lorenzo: What do you mean you were in a car accident???

Arthur: This better not be a joke.

Isabelle: I’m fine. A drunk driver ran a red light and hit me. I spent the night in the hospital for observation, but I’m okay.

Pascale: WHY AM I ONLY HEARING ABOUT THIS NOW?

Arthur: Yeah, kinda rude to just drop that on us.

Isabelle: EXCUSE ME???

Charles: Were you driving too fast?

Isabelle: NO.

Arthur: Were you on your phone?

Isabelle: IT WASN’T MY FAULT.

Lorenzo: But are you sure you weren’t distracted?

Isabelle: I swear to God.

Charles: Okay, okay. Do you need anything?

Isabelle: Just rest.

Arthur: Sooo… no croissants?

Isabelle: ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW.

Arthur: Just asking.

Pascale: Isabelle, you should have told me immediately.

Isabelle: It was the middle of the night!

Lorenzo: You still could have texted.

Charles: Next time, at least let us know sooner.

Isabelle: Next time??? Do you think I PLAN to get hit by a car???

Arthur: …so that’s a no on the croissants?

***

Isabelle was curled up on their couch, a blanket over her lap, her hair still a little messy from sleep and bruises peeking out from under the neckline of his hoodie. She was nursing a cup of tea when Max came in from the kitchen with her breakfast.

“Here,” he said softly, setting the tray in front of her. “Eat something.”

She smiled up at him, touched. “Thank you.”

He leaned down and kissed the top of her head, but as he sat next to her, she noticed his eyes drift toward her phone, still open to the Leclerc family group chat.

Max squinted.

“What’s that?” he asked, his tone already shifting.

Isabelle blinked. “Oh. Just my brothers being… them.”

Max, already suspicious, plucked the phone gently from her lap before she could stop him.

Scrolled. Read.

And then he went absolutely still.

When she finally looked at him, his entire body was tight with anger. Not explosive. Not loud.

Cold.  Sharp.  Deadly.

“They’re asking about croissants?” Max said, voice low and dangerous. “After you spent the night in the hospital?”

Isabelle opened her mouth. Closed it. Shrugged helplessly.

Max stood up abruptly, pacing a few steps across the living room like he needed to physically shake off the fury vibrating through him.

“They’re angry at you?” Max said incredulously. “For not calling them? After you got fucking hit by a drunk driver?”

Isabelle flinched. Not because he was yelling — he wasn’t.  Max’s voice had dropped into that awful, simmering tone he only used when he was one second from completely losing it.

“They’re blaming you?” he said, his voice rising just slightly, like he couldn't believe the words as they left his mouth. "Like you did something wrong?"

"It’s not that bad," Isabelle said automatically.

Max spun to face her. His expression was something brutal and raw.  "Don't," he snapped. "Don't defend them."

Isabelle curled tighter into herself, clutching the tea like it was a shield.

"They don’t mean it like that," she said weakly.

Max crossed the room in three strides, crouching in front of her again, his hands gentle even when his voice wasn’t.

"Belle," he said, fierce and low. "You could have died. You could have been killed. And their first reaction was to demand coffee and flowers and fucking croissants? To scold you like a child?"

Isabelle looked down, her throat burning.

Max caught her chin lightly, forcing her to meet his eyes.

"You are not their errand girl," he said, every word knife-edged. "You are not an afterthought. You are not disposable."

Tears slipped down her cheeks before she could stop them.

Max’s face softened instantly.

He pulled her into his arms, holding her so tightly she could barely breathe — but she didn't want to breathe anywhere else anyway.

Max let out a breath through his nose, still fuming. “Next time something happens, you tell me before you tell them. Actually—just always tell me first.”

“I did.”

That made him pause.

She looked up at him, soft smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “You were the first and only person I called.”

The fight in Max deflated just a little. His jaw relaxed, and his shoulders slumped as he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close.

“Good,” he murmured. “Because I’ll never make you explain why your pain is valid.”

Isabelle pressed a kiss to his jaw, and despite the aches and bruises, she felt lighter somehow. Safer. Seen.

Max kissed the top of her head again, his voice low against her hair.

***

Text Messages: Sebastian Vettel & Max Verstappen

Sebastian: Hey, Max. I heard about what happened in Monaco. Isabelle okay?

Max: ... How do you—

Sebastian: Lewis.

Max: Of course.

Sebastian: He didn’t say much. Just that it was bad. And that you were with her. I figured I should check in.

Max: She’s alright. Concussion. Bruises. Scared the hell out of me, but she’s recovering. Resting at home now.

Sebastian: Good. I’m glad she’s safe. And I’m glad she has you.

Max: Thanks. Really.

Sebastian: Brave of you, keeping it from Charles. Man’s got a temper.

Max: So do I.

Sebastian: 😅 Fair enough. Sebastian:  But seriously — that’s not an easy line to walk. Sebastian:  Keeping something that important private.

Max: It’s not about him. It’s about her. She’s not ready for them to know. I’ll wait until she is. Whatever it takes.

Sebastian: Good. You’re doing the right thing. Sebastian:  (And honestly... I don’t think Charles deserves to know until she’s ready to make him see her properly.)

Max: Agreed.

Sebastian: If you need anything — if she does — let me know. Tell her I’m thinking of her.

Max: I will. She’ll appreciate that. She always liked you, you know.

Sebastian: I like her, too. Always thought she was the strongest Leclerc. Even if no one noticed.

Max: I noticed.

Sebastian: I know. That’s why she’s with you.

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Emilie Abadie

Max: Hey. Wanted you to hear it from me. Belle was in a car accident last night. Drunk Driver T-boned her. 

Emilie: WHAT. Emilie: WHAT DO YOU MEAN. Emilie: IS SHE OKAY???

Max: She’s okay. Bruised, mild concussion. No serious injuries. She’s home now. Resting.

Emilie: Max. You can’t just DROP that on me. I nearly had a heart attack.

Max: Sorry. Didn’t want you finding out through someone else.

Emilie: Thank you for telling me. Is she... really okay? I mean, really?

Max: She’s shaken. But the Volvo did it’s job. It could be so much worse.  

Emilie: Good. Emilie:  Protect her, Max. Or I’ll break your kneecaps. (With love.)

Max: Would expect nothing less from you.

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Emilie Abadie

Emilie: ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW.

Isabelle: Hi??

Emilie: DON'T "hi" me. Emilie: I just found out you were in a CAR CRASH??? Emilie: A drunk driver hit you?? Emilie: AND YOU DIDN'T TELL ME???

Isabelle: I was going to... Isabelle: I just didn’t want to worry you. I’m okay. Isabelle: Bruises, concussion. That’s it. I promise.

Emilie: Isabelle. Emilie: You’re literally my favorite human being on this planet. Emilie: You do not get to almost die and then not tell me.

Isabelle: 🥺

Isabelle: I’m sorry. Isabelle: I really am. Isabelle: It was just a lot last night. And Max was already there and—

Emilie: WAIT. Emilie: Max was there?? Emilie: You called him first???

Isabelle: ... Yeah.

Emilie: 😭😭😭😭 Emilie: Okay. Fine. Emilie: At least SOMEONE was looking after you. Emilie: (Still a little bit furious tho.)

Isabelle: I deserve that. I’m sorry.

Emilie: You are not allowed to apologize for getting hit by a drunk driver you absolute gremlin. Emilie: I’m just glad you’re okay. Emilie: (And also kinda glad Max is apparently ready to physically fight Monaco if needed.)

Isabelle: He’s very serious about it 😅

Emilie: Good. Emilie: You deserve people who take your safety personally. Emilie: And you deserve better than people who think you should apologize for surviving.

Isabelle: 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 Love you.

Emilie: Love you more, Belle. Emilie: See you soon. Emilie: (Also, Max better share the couch or I will fight him.)

Isabelle: 😂 I’ll warn him.

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Victoria Verstappen

Max: Hey. Need to tell you something.

Victoria: Everything okay??

Max: Yeah. Now it is. Max: Belle was in a car accident. Drunk driver hit her.

Victoria: WHAT. Is she okay????

Max: Yeah. Concussion. Some bruises. She’s home now. Safe.

Victoria: Oh my god. Max. I’m so sorry. Are you okay?

Max: Took a few years off my life. But yeah. Better now.

Victoria: I can’t even imagine. Seeing something like that happen to someone you love... Victoria: I remember when you crashed in Silverstone…For a moment it just…that feeling. That helplessness.  Like the world could just... rip the person you love away from you at any second. I know what that feels like.

Max: Yeah. Exactly that. One second everything’s normal. Max: Next second you’re standing in a hospital room wondering how you’re supposed to keep breathing if they don’t.

Max: Feels like everything inside me cracked open at once. Max: I’m never letting anything happen to her again. Max: I don’t care what I have to do.

Victoria: You can’t protect her from everything, Maxie. I wish we could. But you’re doing the most important thing already. You’re there. You love her. You make her feel safe. That’s more than enough.

Max: Sometimes it doesn’t feel like enough.

Victoria: It always feels like that when you really love someone. It’s the cost. But it’s worth it.

Victoria: She’s lucky to have you. And you’re lucky to have her.

Max: I know.

Victoria: Give her a hug from me. And Max?

Max: Yeah?

Victoria: Give yourself a little grace too. You’re allowed to be scared. You’re allowed to love her that much.

Max: Thanks, Vic.

Victoria: Always.

***

The apartment was dim and warm, the only light coming from the small lamp in the corner. One cat was sprawled across Max’s legs, purring softly; the other had wedged itself stubbornly against the arm of the couch.

It was quiet, comfortable — but Max barely noticed.

He was too busy keeping an eye on the hallway, listening for any sound of her.

Isabelle finally padded into the living room, wearing one of his hoodies and soft pajama shorts, her hair damp from a shower. She carried a mug of chamomile tea between her hands like it was a lifeline.

Max’s chest tightened when he saw the bruises — angry marks along her collarbone, a purple smear near her temple just so peeking out from underneath the bandage that covered her stitches — but she looked a little better.

Softer around the edges.

Steadier.

She settled in beside him without hesitation, leaning lightly into his side.

“Hey,” she said, voice gentle and tired but still teasing, still her. “What are we doing for Valentine’s Day tonight?”

Max blinked down at her like she had asked him if he wanted to fight a bull barehanded.

He set the remote down and turned fully toward her.

“Nothing,” he said firmly. “You’re resting.”

Belle blinked, surprised. “Nothing?”

“You got out of the hospital this morning, Schatje,” Max said, brushing his knuckles carefully along her jaw. “You’re bruised, concussed, exhausted. You’re not putting on a dress or pretending you have the energy for anything.”

She smiled sheepishly. “I wasn’t thinking restaurant. I was thinking… I don’t know. Candlelight? Dessert? A dumb rom-com?”

Max’s heart softened instantly.

“That’s different,” he murmured. “That I can work with.”

For a moment, there was a lull — the safe kind — until Belle sighed quietly and looked down at her tea.

“I’m sorry I ruined it,” she said.

Max froze.

“What?” he asked, sharper than he meant to.

“Valentine’s,” she said, voice even quieter now. “We were supposed to have a real night. You always say you don’t care about this stuff, but you still try. And instead, I ended up in a hospital bed, and you had to spend the night watching me sleep in an awful chair.”

Max blinked at her.

Once.

Twice.

Then, without a word, he took the mug gently from her hands and set it on the table.

“Belle,” he said, low and serious, “you are absolutely insane.”

She frowned. “That’s not—”

Max cupped her face in both hands, his touch achingly tender, like he thought she might break if he wasn’t careful.

He looked at her like she had just split the world open and made everything new again.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he said, voice rough with the force of it. “You scared the hell out of me. That’s all. The only thing — the only thing — I cared about yesterday was that you were still breathing.”

Belle blinked, stunned.

Max leaned forward, resting his forehead gently against hers.

“You’re here,” he whispered. “You’re breathing. You’re safe. That’s all I want.”

Belle closed her eyes tightly, a tear slipping free before she could stop it.

“I just wanted it to be special,” she mumbled.

Max pulled back just enough to see her face, his thumbs brushing lightly along her jaw.

“It is special,” he said, fierce and quiet. “You’re here. You’re with me. There’s nothing more special than that.”

He exhaled hard, trying to keep himself steady, but the fear — the pictures his mind supplied, of her bleeding and dazed in that broken car — hadn’t really left him.

“You could have died, Belle,” he said, voice shaking despite himself. “And if you think I give a fuck about Valentine’s Day after that—”

He broke off, swallowing hard.

“You’re sitting here apologizing because I didn’t get to give you overpriced flowers and a chocolate box?” Max shook his head, breathing out a shaky laugh that was half disbelief, half heartbreak.

Belle let out a breathy laugh too, her voice cracking.

“Well, when you say it like that, I sound ridiculous.”

“You are ridiculous,” Max said fondly, his voice dropping to something unbearably soft as he kissed her forehead.

“You’re my Valentine every goddamn day, Belle. You don’t have to do anything except be here.”

And as he tucked her into his side, wrapping an arm around her, Max made himself a quiet, blistering promise:

Whatever it takes — he would make sure she always had a safe place to land.

***

Alexandra Saint Mleux had always loved Valentine’s Day.

Not for the grand gestures, not for the over-the-top declarations, but for the little things.

 The small, specific ways Charles made her feel seen every year.

Last year, it had been a bracelet with a tiny charm that matched a doodle she'd made in a notebook once.

It was never about the price or the spectacle.

It was the way Charles remembered the quiet parts of her — the parts no one else seemed to notice.

Which was why she knew, before he even handed her the gift this year, that something was... off.

The box was beautiful — simple, elegant, wrapped in gold paper.  But when she opened it, it was a generic necklace. Pretty, but impersonal.

Something anyone could have picked out of a catalog.

Charles was smiling at her expectantly, the way he always did, waiting for her reaction.

And she smiled back — because she loved him, because she didn't want to ruin it — but a small, quiet ache bloomed in her chest.

It wasn't about the necklace.

It was about the feeling that something had slipped, unnoticed, between them.

They went out for dinner after — a cozy little restaurant tucked away from the paparazzi, candles flickering between them — but even there, Charles seemed... distracted.

 Tense in a way she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

It wasn’t until dessert, when she asked casually about his family, that she got a piece of the puzzle.

"Isabelle was in a car accident," Charles said offhandedly, swirling the last of his espresso.

Alexandra's heart stuttered. "Oh my God — is she okay?"

He shrugged, too casual. "It was just a little fender bender. Nothing serious. She’s fine."

Alexandra frowned slightly. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," Charles said, waving it off. "She said she was fine."

He didn’t elaborate. Didn’t offer any more.

And Alexandra — who had seen the way Isabelle seemed to fold herself smaller whenever the family swirled too loudly around her — felt that same ache twist sharper.

Something told her Belle wouldn’t have made a fuss even if she wasn’t fine.

Something told her that Charles hadn’t really looked.

She said nothing, just smiled and let Charles change the subject back to racing, back to schedules, back to anything but the sister who maybe, just maybe, needed him to see her.

Alexandra tucked the necklace back into its box when she got home that night.

 It was beautiful.

 It just wasn’t quite hers.

***

The apartment smelled like coffee and something sweet.

Max had gotten up early — not because he was particularly good at mornings, or baking — but because Belle deserved something warm and comforting.

He’d managed toast, burnt only slightly, and found the last few frozen chocolate croissants buried at the back of the freezer.

Small things.

Safe things.

Belle was curled up on the couch in one of his old hoodies, knees tucked beneath her, Lilly on her lap, while Jimmy was laying on her legs and Sassy sat next to her like this was all beneath her, but was slowly inching closer, jealous to at she wasn’t getting any attention.

She looked small.

Tired.

Healing.

Max was wiping his hands on a dish towel when a knock came at the door.

He frowned, crossing the apartment in a few quick strides.

When he opened it, a delivery man stood there — arms full.

Two enormous bouquets, one a soft explosion of yellow and white, the other a careful arrangement of pink and cream roses, and a box tied up with a silky ribbon.

Max blinked.

Took the flowers and box with a muttered thanks.

Kicked the door shut behind him.

Belle looked up immediately, eyebrows lifting when she saw what he was carrying.

“What’s all that?” she asked, sitting up straighter.

Max set everything carefully down on the coffee table, tugging the little notes free from between the stems.

He read the first card — his mouth curving into a small, real smile, the kind he barely remembered how to make before her.

“This one’s from my family,” he said, tossing the card onto the table for her to see. “Flowers from my mom. Chocolate from Victoria.”

Belle’s mouth fell open slightly. “They didn’t have to—”

Max shrugged. “They wanted to.”

He kissed the top of her head before reaching for the second card, tucked between the wild, chaotic second bouquet and the neatly wrapped box underneath.

He read it, and let out a soft huff of laughter.

“And,” he added, setting the card down, “these are from the idiots.”

Belle blinked. “The idiots?”

Max leaned back against the couch, stretching his legs out lazily. “Lando, Oscar, Lewis, Carlos, Daniel. Group effort. They sent you flowers and a box of cookies.”

Belle stared at him, completely thrown.

“They said,” Max quoted dryly, “and I’m reading here, ‘Dear Belle: Sorry the world is trash. Love, some idiots who are rooting for you.’”

Belle let out a small, incredulous laugh — the first real one he’d heard from her since the hospital— and covered her face with her hands.

Max just watched her, something warm and achingly fond spreading through his chest.

When she lowered her hands, her cheeks were flushed, her eyes suspiciously bright.

“They’re ridiculous,” she whispered.

“They are,” Max agreed. “But they mean it.”

He shifted closer, resting his hand lightly against her thigh.

“Victoria sends her love, by the way,” he added. “Said next time you’re in the Netherlands, you’re not allowed to leave without a girls’ day.”

Belle laughed again — a softer, breathier sound this time — and toyed absently with the edge of her sleeve.

There was a pause.

A shift.

And then, almost too quietly to hear, she said:

“Your family’s starting to feel like mine too.”

Max stilled completely.

He turned, reaching for her hand instinctively, finding her fingers and curling his own around them.

Belle looked up at him, vulnerable in a way she almost never let herself be — open and a little raw, like she wasn’t sure she was allowed to say it out loud.

Max melted.

Utterly.

He cupped her face gently in both hands and kissed her — slow, deliberate, reverent — like he had all the time in the world just to love her properly.

When he finally pulled back, his voice was rough with emotion.

“They already think of you that way,” he whispered against her forehead. “You’re one of us, Belle. You always will be.”

She blinked fast, trying and failing to fight the tears burning her eyes.

Max just pulled her against his chest, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tight.

Not too tight.

Just enough.

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Victoria Verstappen

Isabelle: Hi Victoria, Thank you so much for the flowers and chocolates. It really meant a lot to me. You didn’t have to do all that.

Victoria: First of all: YES I DID. Second: you’re welcome. Third: you’re stuck with us now. No returns. No exchanges. No refunds. Family policy. Love you.

Isabelle: 😭 I love you too.

Victoria: Tell Max if he doesn’t keep spoiling you, I’ll show up and do it myself. (And make it VERY public and VERY embarrassing.)

Isabelle: 😂 I’ll warn him.

Victoria: Good girl. Rest up. Heal. And when you’re ready, come visit — Lio made you a "Get Well" card and it’s mostly just glitter but the intention was pure.

Isabelle: I can’t wait to see it. Thank you, Vic. Really. For everything.

Victoria: Always, Belle. Always.

***

Text Messages: Sebastian Vettel & Kimi Räikkönen

Sebastian: You’re not going to believe this. (Or maybe you will. You’re hard to surprise.)

Kimi: Busy. Make it fast.

Sebastian: Max Verstappen is dating Isabelle Leclerc.

Kimi:  Huh. 

Sebastian: That’s it? Huh??? I just dropped a nuclear paddock secret on you!

Kimi: Not my business. If they’re happy, who cares.

Sebastian: I mean. True. But still.

Kimi: Good for them. Hope she can handle him. Not many can.

Sebastian: I think she’s the only one who can.

Kimi: Makes sense. Quiet ones are dangerous. Good match.

Sebastian: Also apparently no one in her family knows yet. Including Charles.

Kimi: Charles will cry about it. Not my problem.

Sebastian: 😂

Kimi: Tell Max if he breaks her heart I’ll run him over with a snowmobile.

Sebastian: Will pass along the message.

Kimi: Good. Busy now. Kids want ice cream. Tell Max congratulations.

Sebastian: Will do. (Enjoy the ice cream.)

Kimi: Always.

***

Max hated this.

He wasn’t even trying to pretend otherwise.

He stood by the door, suitcase packed, keys and phone in one hand, looking like someone had asked him to do the impossible instead of board a plane for pre-season testing.

Belle watched him from the couch, a blanket wrapped around her, her bruises faded now but still faintly visible under the soft lamplight.

"You have to go," she said gently, reading his mind like she always did.

Max grimaced, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "I don’t like leaving you."

"You’re not leaving me," she corrected immediately, voice calm, steady.  "You’re going to work. You’re doing what you love."

Max ran a hand through his hair, visibly struggling.

"You just—" he started, then stopped.  "You just got hurt, Belle. I should be here. I should be with you."

"You are with me," she said, rising slowly from the couch and padding over to him.

She reached up and cupped his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her.

"Every time you call, every time you text, every time you think about me — you’re here," she said softly. "I’m not alone."

Max closed his eyes, leaning into her touch like he physically couldn’t help it.

"And you’ll be home before you know it," she whispered, brushing her thumbs over his cheekbones. "Then you can hover and fuss and drive me crazy again."

A reluctant, broken laugh escaped him.

"I don’t want to leave you," he said again, more quietly now.

Belle smiled, tears prickling her own eyes — because even now, even with the whole world pulling him in a thousand directions, he was still here with her first.

"You’re not leaving me," she said again. "You’re just chasing your dreams. And I’ll be right here when you get back."

Max bent his head, resting his forehead against hers.

"You’re my dream too," he whispered.

Her breath hitched.

"And you’re mine," she whispered back.

They stayed there for a long moment — just breathing together — until finally, finally, Max exhaled.

He kissed her slowly, thoroughly, like he needed to memorize her, and she kissed him back just as fiercely.

When he finally pulled away, it was with visible effort.

"Promise me you’ll rest," he said, brushing his knuckles down her cheek.

"I promise," she said. "And you — promise me you’ll drive safe. Listen to GP. Don’t try to out-stubborn the car."

Max huffed a quiet laugh. "Bossy."

"Someone has to be," she teased, smiling.

He kissed her forehead one last time, squeezed her hand, and finally — reluctantly — turned to leave.

Belle watched him go, feeling the ache of missing him before he’d even stepped outside the door.

But it was okay.

Because he would always come home to her.

And she would always, always be waiting.

***

Text Messages: Lewis Hamilton & Max Verstappen

Lewis: Mate.

Lewis: Did you just drop off a bag of stuff at my motorhome?

Max: Yeah.

Max: Belle made something for Roscoe.

Lewis: I just opened it.

Lewis: A handwritten note. And homemade vegan dog treats???

Max: She insisted.

Max: Wanted to thank you properly.

Max: Even though she’s supposed to be resting.

Lewis: I don’t even know what to say. The note made me emotional and Roscoe is probably going to try and mug me for the biscuits.

Max: Good. He deserves them.

Lewis: Tell her thank you.

Lewis: Seriously.

Lewis: She didn’t have to do anything.

Lewis: I was just in the right place at the right time.

Max: You stayed.

Max: It matters to her.

Max: It matters to me too.

Lewis: You’ve got a good one there, Max.

Lewis: Also, if Roscoe explodes with happiness, I’m sending you the vet bill.

Max: He’ll be fine. Belle double-checked the recipe three times.

***

GP had known Max Verstappen for a long time.

Long enough to recognize when something wasn’t sitting right under the surface — even when Max didn’t say a word about it.

He noticed it that morning, before Max even climbed into the car.  The slight tightness around his mouth.  The way his hands flexed once, sharply, before putting on his gloves.  The way his answers in the pre-session briefing were short, mechanical. Efficient, but colder than usual.

GP filed it away. Max would tell him when he was ready.

And he did — just after the second run of the day, in the shade behind the Red Bull garage, water bottle in one hand, telemetry printout in the other.

“She was in a crash,” Max said, his voice flat enough that if GP hadn’t been paying attention, he might have missed it.

GP frowned, stepping closer. “Who?”

Max didn’t look up.  “Belle.”

The name hit harder than GP expected.

“What happened?” he asked, more sharply now.

Max’s jaw tightened. “Drunk driver ran a red. T-boned her car. Hit the passenger side, just behind the front wheel. Sent her spinning into a light post.”

 Quiet. Clipped.  Words that barely scratched the surface of the horror GP could hear pulsing beneath them.

GP stared. “Christ. Is she—?”

“She’s alright,” Max said. “Bruised. Concussion. Hospital kept her overnight.” He paused. “But it could’ve been a lot worse.”

GP’s stomach twisted sickly.  He couldn’t — wouldn’t — let himself imagine Max getting that phone call in the middle of the night. Wouldn’t let himself imagine what it must’ve felt like to walk into a hospital room and see Belle curled up in a stark white bed.

And then Max said, in that same low, steady voice that somehow carried more weight than shouting ever could:

“The Volvo you helped me pick out for her? It saved her life.”

GP went still.

The memory flickered: Max months ago, texting him…asking for his opinion. 

Just buy her a Volvo. Safe. Reliable. Built to last. Also one of the best crash-tested brands in the world. You did say you were thinking about kids, right?

And now — thank god — Belle was still breathing because of it.

GP swallowed thickly, feeling a knot loosen somewhere deep in his chest.

“Thank fuck,” he said hoarsely.

Max gave a short nod.  No dramatics. No sentimentality.

But GP could feel the magnitude of it radiating off him like heat off the tarmac.

This — this — was the side of Max Verstappen few people ever saw.  The side that loved without conditions.  That protected without compromise.

“Thank you,” Max said quietly. 

No dramatics. No fuss.  Just that heavy, quiet sincerity Max reserved for the rarest moments.

GP reached out and clapped a hand to his shoulder — a solid, grounding gesture — knowing Max didn’t need anything else from him right now.

"I’d do it again tomorrow," GP said.

Max nodded again, and GP watched him turn back toward the data screens, pulling his headset on, ready to work like nothing had happened.

But GP knew better.

Max had always raced like he had something to prove.  Now, this season, he was racing with something to protect.

And GP would make damn sure everything — the car, the strategy, the team — was ready for that fight.

Then there was no margin for error anymore.

Not even a sliver.

He pulled his headset back over his ears and keyed into the comms with a calmness he didn’t entirely feel.

“Let’s run another systems check before lunch,” he said smoothly.  “And someone triple-check the safety settings while you’re at it.”

The comm crackled to life with quick affirmatives.

***

Text Messages: Gianpiero Lambiase & Eloisa Lambiase

GP: We’re getting you a new car.

Eloisa: ???

Eloisa: Good morning to you too?

Eloisa: What’s wrong with my car?

GP: Not safe enough.

Eloisa: You’re the one who picked it out, love.

GP: Doesn’t matter.

GP: We’re upgrading.

Eloisa: Did something happen?

GP: Yeah.

GP: Belle — Max’s Belle — she was in a crash last week.

GP: Drunk driver ran a light.

Eloisa: Oh my god.

Eloisa: Is she okay???

GP: Shaken. Concussed. But alive.

GP: Because she was driving the Volvo Max bought her.

GP: The one I told him to get.

Eloisa: Oh.

GP: Yeah. That’s why we’re getting you a better car.

Eloisa: Gianni…

GP: No arguments.

GP: Please.

Eloisa: …okay.

Eloisa: But only if I get to pick the color this time.

GP: Deal.

GP: Something with five stars on every crash test rating.

GP: I’m sending you options this afternoon.

Eloisa:  (And coffee. You owe me coffee for giving me a heart attack.)

GP: Already on it.

GP: Triple order.

GP: Love you.

Eloisa: Love you too, you giant overprotective marshmallow

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Max Verstappen

Max: We need to get you a new car.

Isabelle: Max, I’m fine.

Isabelle: The Volvo did its job.

Max: Exactly. Which is why we’re getting another one.

Isabelle: You’re serious?

Max: Volvo customer for life now. I’m about to put their logo on my helmet at this point.

Isabelle: You’re ridiculous.

Max: Not taking chances, Schatje.

Max: Same model or you want to pick something else?

Isabelle: …I did love that car.

Max: Same brand, non-negotiable. Colour’s up to you. Same as before or something different?

Isabelle: Honestly? I liked the old one. That dark green felt like me.

Max: Then we’ll stick with it. Dark green it is.

Isabelle: You don’t have to do all this, Max.

Max: I do. I’m not letting you drive anything that isn’t built like a tank.

Isabelle: You’re going to spoil me until I forget how to function on my own.

Max: That’s the plan.

Isabelle: You’re impossible.

Max: You love me.

Isabelle: Very much.

Max: Fortunately, it’s mutual.

Isabelle: Fine. Dark green Volvo. But I’m picking the air freshener this time.

Max: Deal. As long as it’s not something that smells like cupcakes.

Isabelle: No promises. And it was strawberry. 

Isabelle: Consider it payback for forcing me into an indestructible Swedish fortress.

Max: Best decision I ever made. Second only to falling in love with you.

Isabelle: You’re dangerous when you’re sweet.

Max: Only for you.

***

Alexandra wandered the halls, pretending to admire a modern art installation while covertly people-watching — one of her favorite pastimes when the pace of life let her slip out of the Ferrari bubble for a few hours.

She was standing near a collection of minimalist sculptures when she caught snippets of a conversation between two women nearby, both well-dressed, deep in quiet, intense discussion.

"I still can't believe it," one woman murmured, her voice low but urgent. "She could have been killed. Did you see the photos? That car was destroyed."

Her friend nodded, wide-eyed.  "Near the tunnel, right? Total mess. And poor Isabelle  — I mean, she's so sweet. She did that whole project for our office last year."

Alexandra’s heart stopped.

She took a tiny step closer, pretending to examine the sculpture in front of her.

"Isabelle Leclerc," the first woman said again, confirming what Alexandra already knew. "Such a shame. She's so talented. And to walk away from something like that — it’s a miracle, really. They said the drunk driver didn’t even hit the brakes."

Alexandra felt her stomach churn.

Destroyed.  Miracle.  No brakes.

That didn’t sound like a fender bender.

That didn’t sound like "nothing."

Another man chimed in, sounding grim. "I heard the paramedics said it was a miracle she didn’t have internal injuries. They were worried about a collapsed lung at first."

Alexandra blinked hard, the art blurring in front of her.

Collapsed lung.

Not a fender bender.

Not nothing serious.

She pressed her lips together, hands curling slightly at her sides.

The women moved on, voices fading into the low hum of the gallery, but Alexandra stayed frozen in place for a long moment.

When Charles had told her about the accident, he’d been so casual. So dismissive.

Alexandra swallowed hard against the knot forming in her throat.

Isabelle hadn't been fine.

Isabelle had survived something horrific.

And Charles — either through ignorance or unwillingness — had looked the other way.

Again.

Alexandra didn’t know what bothered her more: the fact that Charles hadn't seen it, or the gnawing fear that maybe he did — and just didn’t know what to do with the parts of his sister that didn’t fit into the neat, tidy picture of the world he needed to believe in.

She glanced down at her phone, thumb hovering over Isabelle name in her contacts.

For a moment, she debated it — reaching out, saying something, offering something.

But what could she offer that wouldn't sound hollow?

Her family saw her as nothing more than background noise and Alexandra loathed to admit that she was guilty of the same on more than a few occasions. 

It was just…so easy not to think about Isabelle. Which sounded horrible, the longer she examined that thought. 

Isabelle was so happy in the background, so sweet and kind in a way that never seemed to want any kind of attention for it. 

 So easy to overlook. 

***

Text Messages: Alexandra Saint Mleux & Charlotte Di Pietro

Alexandra: Hey, random question. Did you know how bad Isabelle’s car accident actually was?

Charlotte: ?? I thought it was minor? That’s what Lorenzo said when I asked.

Alexandra: It wasn’t. I overheard people talking at the gallery tonight. Paramedics thought she might have had a collapsed lung. Car was totaled. Impact was bad — drunk driver didn’t even brake.

Charlotte: No one told me any of that. Lorenzo made it sound like a dented door and a headache.

Alexandra: Yeah. Charles too. He brushed it off like it was nothing.

Charlotte: …They’re acting like it’s an inconvenience.

Alexandra: Exactly. It’s been sitting wrong with me all night. Like there’s something broken there that no one’s talking about.

Charlotte: Maybe. But I do know they love her.

Alexandra: I don’t doubt that. But love isn’t the same as seeing someone. I’m not sure they know how to see her properly.

Alexandra: I am not sure we know how to see her properly. None of us thought to invite her to lunch…you know, when we ran into her. 

Charlotte: You are right…They aren’t the only ones guilty of forgetting her…

Charlotte: Speaking of forgetting. 

Charlotte: Guess who forgot about Valentine’s Day until the morning off. 

Alexandra: Oh? (Spill.)

Charlotte: Valentine’s Day. Lorenzo didn’t plan anything. Literally nothing.

He said, "Well, it didn’t feel like a big deal this year."

Charlotte: Later he grumbled that "normally Belle helps" and "everything feels off without her."

Alexandra: Wait, what?

Charlotte: Yeah. Apparently Belle used to remind them, plan ideas, even organize half the stuff so they wouldn’t forget.

Alexandra: …Oh my god. Alexandra: That tracks. Alexandra: You know, her friend once joked that Isabelle was the one who bought all my birthday presents from Charles.

Charlotte: Wait, seriously??

Alexandra: Apparently. Alexandra: I didn’t take it seriously at the time — Alexandra: Thought it was just teasing. Alexandra: But now… Maybe it was true.

Charlotte: She shouldn’t have to carry everyone. Charlotte: It’s not fair.

Alexandra: No, it’s not. Maybe it’s a good thing they’re feeling the consequences now.

Charlotte: Let them sit in it. They need to learn.

Alexandra: Agreed.

Charlotte: (Also. Are you ready for Arthur's dramatic downfall?)

Alexandra: LOL. The girlfriend disaster?

Charlotte: The girlfriend disaster. At this point, I’m tempted to bet how long until he posts a sad song on Instagram.

Alexandra: 100 euros says it’s before Thursday. Bonus points if he posts cryptic black-and-white stories too. With quotes he definitely doesn’t understand.

Charlotte: You’re on.

Alexandra: God help us all.

***

The Bahrain paddock buzzed under the heavy sun — mechanics shouting, tires rolling, the faint scent of burning rubber hanging in the air.

Charles leaned against the barrier separating the hospitality areas, sipping from a bottle of water as he chatted with Pierre, both of them still in their race suits, unzipped halfway down against the heat.

Pierre had just casually asked, somewhere between a joke and genuine concern, "Hey, by the way — your sister’s alright, yeah? Heard she had some kind of accident?"

Charles waved it off immediately, flashing a small, tight smile.  "Ah, yes. Isabelle is fine. Just a little fender bender."

Pierre nodded, a little relieved but still wary. "Good. Glad she’s okay. Monaco drivers, man."

Charles laughed lightly. "Exactly. Probably more dangerous in the city than on track."

But before he could say anything else, a voice cut through the air, calm and deliberate.

"It wasn’t a fender bender, Charles."

Charles blinked, turning instinctively toward the sound.

Lewis Hamilton stood a few feet away, gloves dangling loosely from his fingers, expression unreadable.

Charles frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"

Lewis shifted his weight, crossing his arms over his chest. "I was there."

The words dropped like stones into Charles’ stomach.

"I saw the crash," Lewis continued, voice low and even. "Drunk driver ran a red light. Slammed into her side full speed. Spun her into a pole. The car was totaled."

Charles opened his mouth — but no words came out.

Lewis wasn’t finished. "Isabelle was trapped in the car. Shocky. Barely able to talk. I called the ambulance. Stayed with her until they got there."

Charles’ heart kicked hard against his ribs, cold and sickening.

He tried — for a second — to picture Isabelle in that moment.

 Tried to imagine her small body pinned in a wrecked car, blood trickling down her forehead, gasping for breath.

It made something twist inside him — sharp and ugly and guilty.

"She’s lucky she survived," Lewis said quietly. "Don’t call it a fender bender."

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Lewis gave him one last look — not angry, not cruel — just disappointed.  And then he turned, walking away toward the Mercedes garage without another word.

Charles stood frozen in place.

Pierre cleared his throat awkwardly after a beat. "Uh," he said lightly, "maybe you should... check on her properly. Yeah?"

Charles didn’t answer.

He just stood there, staring after Lewis, feeling — for the first time in a long time — the uncomfortable, foreign sensation of having missed something important.

***

Group Chat: HELP ME

(Members: Oscar Piastri, Lando Norris, Daniel Ricciardo, Carlos Sainz and Lewis Hamilton)

Lewis: Guys. GUYS.

Oscar: uh oh

Lando: what happened now

Lewis: Charles just called Isabelle’s crash a "fender bender." fender bender. LIKE. MINOR. INSIGNIFICANT.

Daniel: ...oh no.

Lewis: IT WAS BAD. Lewis: Bad enough that the car was crushed against a streetlamp. Lewis: Bad enough that she couldn’t even get the door open. Lewis: Bad enough that she was shivering and barely breathing and covered in cuts and glass.

Lando: Lewis is going full caps lock. This is bad.

Oscar: It’s worse than bad. He’s spiraling.

Lewis: I WATCHED HER BLEEDING IN A BROKEN CAR. Lewis: I HELD HER HAND UNTIL THE PARAMEDICS GOT THERE. Lewis: AND CHARLES IS OUT HERE LIKE "lol oopsie minor incident"????

Daniel: Breathe mate Breathe

Carlos: Yeah, deep breaths. We need you alive.

Lewis: HE CALLED IT A FENDER BENDER. I AM GOING TO LAUNCH HIM INTO THE SUN

Oscar: Not before Max does.

Lando: Max is gonna find out eventually and we will ALL need to evacuate Monaco

Lewis: I literally saw it. Lewis: I thought she was dead for a second. Lewis: And Charles didn’t even know how bad it was. Lewis: Didn’t even ask. Lewis: Didn’t even CARE.

Daniel: You okay mate?? Do you need snacks?? Or wine??

Carlos: Or a punching bag???

Oscar: Or a very large blunt object???

Lewis: I need Charles to grow a brain cell.

Carlos: Welcome to the nightmare brother.

Daniel: We have t-shirts.

Lando: and wine Lando: lots of wine

Oscar: and emergency stress snacks

Lewis: I’m bringing tequila next meeting. Lewis: We’re gonna need it.

***

Leclerc Siblings Group Chat

 (Members: Arthur, Isabelle, Charles, and Lorenzo)

Charles: Isabelle. Why didn’t you tell me the accident was that serious??

Isabelle: Because you didn’t ask.

Arthur: Wait what? Serious?? I thought it was a little crash?

Charles: It wasn’t. Lewis told me today during testing. He was THERE. He said the car was totaled. You got spun into a post. You were trapped in the car, Isabelle.

Lorenzo: What do you mean, trapped?!

Isabelle: I didn’t want to worry anyone. I’m fine now.

Charles: You said you were fine. You made it sound like you got a scratch and drove home.

Lorenzo: That’s not the point.

Charles:  You lied to us.

Isabelle: I didn’t lie. I said I had a concussion and bruises. And spent the night in the hospital. Which was all true. I said I was okay. Because I am.

Lorenzo: Isabelle, why didn’t you say anything?

Isabelle: Because I knew this would happen.

Isabelle:  Exactly this.

Isabelle:  You’d all get angry or guilt-trip me or turn it into something about you.

Charles: Of course we’re angry!

Arthur:  You scared us, Isabelle.

Lorenzo:  Do you think Maman could handle hearing you almost died?

Lorenzo: We are not going to tell her.

Lorenzo:  I’m serious.

Lorenzo:  It would crush her.

Lorenzo:  Better she thinks it was nothing.

Isabelle: So let me get this straight.

Isabelle:  You’re mad at me for not telling you…

Isabelle:  And now you’re also deciding for me that Maman shouldn’t know?

Isabelle:  Because you think she can’t handle it?

Lorenzo: Exactly.

Isabelle: Okay. Noted.

***

Raymond Vermeulen prided himself on knowing everything about Max Verstappen’s career — both on and off the track.

It wasn’t arrogance. It was necessity.

You didn’t manage Max Verstappen successfully by being two steps behind. 

You stayed ahead. You anticipated. You knew.

Which was why, when Jos Verstappen of all people leaned over during a quiet moment at a post-testing dinner and casually said: "Max is serious about a girl,"

—Raymond almost dropped his fork.

He blinked, slowly, suspiciously.

Jos didn’t do casual. Jos didn’t mention Max’s girlfriends unless it was a complaint. Normally, the subject was treated like some embarrassing injury you didn’t talk about in polite company.

Raymond cleared his throat, playing it cool. "Oh? New?"

Jos grunted. "No. Been a while."

Raymond narrowed his eyes. "And you’re... okay with this?"

Jos shrugged. Shrugged.

Like Max Verstappen — his pride, his legacy, his entire life project — dating someone was just fine and normal.

Raymond was officially in uncharted waters.

"Who is she?" he asked carefully.

Jos reached for his beer, nonchalant. "Isabelle Leclerc."

Raymond froze mid-sip of his wine.

Isabelle. Leclerc.

As in Charles Leclerc’s little sister.

As in Ferrari’s golden boy’s little sister.

As in political nightmare fuel if the media ever got hold of it.

"You're telling me Max is dating Charles Leclerc’s sister," Raymond said slowly, like he was trying to defuse a bomb.

Jos grunted again. "Mmh."

"And you’re fine with this?" Raymond pressed.

Jos actually — God help him — almost smiled. "She's good for him."

Raymond sat back in his chair, stunned.

Not just because Max was apparently neck-deep in a secret, long-term relationship.

 Not just because it was Isabelle bloody Leclerc.

 But because Jos — notoriously impossible to please, allergic to softness — actually liked her.

Jos approved.

Raymond processed that for a long moment.

The earth hadn’t split open. The sky wasn’t falling.

Miracles did happen, apparently.

"Well," he said finally, recovering some professionalism. "That’s... good."

Jos nodded, unbothered. "She makes him happy."

Raymond exhaled slowly. If Jos was using words like happy, it was serious. Monumentally serious.

And suddenly, Raymond understood something deeper:

This wasn’t a passing thing.

This wasn’t a fling.

This was real.

Max had gone and fallen in love — quietly, stubbornly, like he did everything else — and somehow, without anyone noticing, built himself a life outside the machine of Formula One.

Raymond reached for his phone under the table.

Because if the media ever got a sniff of this, he was going to need a very detailed contingency plan.

And maybe a drink.

Or several.

***

The office was quiet.

Soft light filtered through gauzy curtains.

A pot of chamomile tea sat untouched on the side table.

Isabelle sat curled into the corner of the couch, sleeves of her sweater pulled over her hands, staring at the stitches in the rug instead of at Simone.

Simone waited.

She always waited.

Finally, Isabelle exhaled a shaky breath.

"It’s so stupid," she said quietly. "I shouldn’t be this upset. I didn’t even get badly hurt."

Simone didn’t flinch at the deflection.

She just tilted her head slightly.

"You’re allowed to be upset, Isabelle. Something frightening happened to you."

Isabelle bit her lip, fingers tightening in her sleeves.

"I didn’t even want to tell them," she said. "My family, I mean. I knew how it would go. And it did."

Simone’s voice stayed soft. "Tell me what happened."

Isabelle shrugged stiffly. "I mentioned it. Just… dropped it into the family group chat. Like ripping off a band-aid. Thought maybe they’d be a little worried, and then we’d move on… " she admitted softly. 

Simone waited again.

Isabelle’s mouth twisted bitterly.  "Arthur and Charles kept asking if I was distracted or speeding—like it was somehow my fault."

Simone’s brows furrowed slightly.

“And then a few days later, Charles found out that it wasn’t just a little fender bender. And suddenly they were angry with me. Because I didn’t tell them how bad it was. But I did. I told them that I was…I told them I had a concussion and bruises…And then Lorenzo," Isabelle continued, voice tightening, "he said—he said he wasn’t going to tell Maman. Because it would 'crush' her."

She laughed, a thin, broken sound.

"Apparently, I’m a bigger problem for them if I exist hurt than if I just… pretend everything’s fine."

Simone stayed silent, letting the words hang in the air between them.

Isabelle blinked hard, willing herself not to cry.

"It’s always been like that since Papa died," she said eventually, quieter now. "Maman either sticks her head into the sand—pretends bad things aren’t happening—or she panics. Makes everything about her fear."

Her voice cracked slightly on the last word, and she pulled her knees tighter to her chest.

"So I learned to make myself smaller. Easier. Less trouble."  She smiled bitterly. "Invisible, sometimes. That’s the safest way to survive it."

Simone leaned forward slightly, her voice still low, but firm now.

"Isabelle, what happened to you wasn't your fault. Not the accident. Not your family's reaction."

Isabelle closed her eyes.

"It feels like it is," she whispered.

"It isn’t," Simone said. "You are allowed to take up space. You are allowed to be hurt. You are allowed to need help, without carrying their feelings on your back."

***

Group Chat: HELP ME

(Members: Oscar Piastri, Lando Norris, Daniel Ricciardo, Carlos Sainz Jr. and Lewis Hamilton)

Lando: okay Lando: hear me out

Oscar: this is already a bad start

Lewis: absolutely not

Daniel: proceed Daniel: i love bad ideas

Lando: what if Lando: instead of everyone panicking about charles finding out Lando: we just... Lando: tell him softly???

Carlos: what the fuck does "softly" mean

Lando: like, we ease him into it Lando: drop hints Lando: plant the idea Lando: subtle Lando: caring

Oscar: you're insane.

Lewis: he'll kill us all.

Daniel: ok but i kinda wanna see where he's going with this

Carlos: no Carlos: lando’s plans never end well

Lando: NO LISTEN Lando: like maybe Lando: i casually say Lando: "hey charles did you know belle’s been hanging out with max lately" Lando: and when he starts freaking out Lando: we just Lando: soothe him Lando: with like Lando: positive reinforcement.

Oscar: you think he's a puppy???

Lewis: lando. Lewis:  this is the worst plan anyone’s ever had.

Carlos: you’re going to get us murdered.

Daniel: actually i’m free next thursday if we wanna die then.

Oscar: i vote no. Oscar: hard no. Oscar: hardest no of my life.

Carlos: softly = we still die  Carlos: but maybe slower and more painful

Lando: NO NO Lando: like Lando: we sit him down Lando: give him snacks Lando: maybe a hug Lando: and then just... you know... gently mention that max is in love with his sister

Oscar: lando.  be serious.

Lando: I am serious

Lewis: this is the worst idea i've heard in a long time

Daniel: give him snacks???  what is he, a wild animal???

Oscar: you’re going to get us killed.

Lewis: softly telling charles is still telling charles.  he’s gonna go full Leclerc rage no matter what.

Daniel: AND THEN MAX IS GOING TO KILL US

Lando: ok but hear me out again Lando: what if we tell him Lando: and then IMMEDIATELY leave the country

Oscar: i'm already packing my bags

Carlos: dibs on Spain

Lewis: i'm going to pretend i don't know any of you

Daniel: same

Daniel: i’ll be in australia by the time charles processes step one.

Inappropriate - Lando Norris x Verstappen!Reader

Masterlist

Warnings: brief smut, sexual references, explicit language, alcohol, mentions of Jos

summary: Max is convinced that his sisters realitionship with Lando is inappropriate. The two of them testing his patience over and over again. But he will soon find out that them being apart isn’t much better. (ft. Pierre Gasly)

Max was in absolute terror. No he wanted to peel his skin off as he tossed and turned in his bed, desperately trying to get it to stop. Even covering his ears with his pillow from time to time, resisting the urge to get up and put and end to this immediately as he knew Kelly would be mad at him if he did so. But this was absolutely inappropriate, no it was disgusting. This was also his house after all. Why did you think it was fine to have sex here? Why did you even have to do it at all? Max cringed at the tought. Even more so because he knew, who was doing you.

The dutch driver had disagreed with his baby sister dating any of his friends from day one, especially not another driver. But along came innocent little Lando, only that he was not so innocent after all. It started kind of secretive, you only telling Max you were going out with someone. Knowing he‘d not be happy with it whatsoever. He had always lectured you about guys and their bad influence. He also never felt like anyone was worthy of you and even if you disagreed, Max felt like he was proved right when you had presented him who exactly you were dating.

„I‘m seeing Lando.“ you told your brother at lunch on the promenade in Monte-Carlo one day. The Red Bull driver, looking up from his menu furrowed his eyebrows. You were fidgeting with your white dress, trying to stay calm as you hoped your brother wouldn’t cause a scene. That was actually part of the reason why you brought him to a public place. You couldn’t exactly see his expression behind his black sunglasses, but you hoped it be a good one. Max's approval was the most important thing to you, even more important than your dads. Having been through everything togehter, you loved your brother with all your heart.

„You’re seeing Lando? Where?“ the dutch driver asked, unsure of what exactly he was hearing. You had to resist the urge to chuckle as you shook your head, was he seriously not getting it? Pressing your lips together you repeated your words „I‘m… I’m seeing him Max.“

Max expression turned stone cold in the matter of seconds, his breathing seemingly louder than normal as he placed down his menu card on the table before muttering under his breath „What?“

You could tell this wasn’t gonna be good but you had to get through this, having promised Lando you’d talk to Max after he wanted to literally do it on his own. Wanting to safe your boyfriend from getting killed you said you‘d take the matter in your own hands and arranged that lunch with your brother. And poor Max had attended it completely oblivious, not at all ready of what was to come.

„Lando. I‘m dat-" you started but where interrupted rather quickly.

„No I understood!“ Max stated rather harshly, taking of his sunglasses and looking around to see if someone was staring. You bit the inside of your mouth seeing his furious expression as Max hissed „You‘re absolutely not gonna see him!“

„I already did-"

„He‘s literally a man whore Y/n!“ Max said his voice extremely squeaky as you sighed. You knew Landos reputation but quite frankly you didn’t care, he was different with you „He hits once and then he drops you.“

You cringed, disgusted with your brothers statement, so naively you blurted out „No he didn’t!“

Max felt like throwing up, hearing you talk in past tense. You were his sister and the thought of you with Lando was enough to make him want to literally scream. So from the get-go, the driver did not agree with the relationship. Whenever he‘d see Lando and you he‘d walk the other way which was hard, considering you travelled everywhere with Max, working as an intern at Red Bull racing. Even your dad agreed with the relationship more than Max but you didn’t ever want his validation anyway. It was Max, who you cared about.

Word spreaded quick and soon enough everyone knew about your relationship with Lando. And you didn’t really care, happy you could finally be together in public without hiding. 

„Baby!“ you squealed, jumping up and down as Lando stepped down the car. The cheers from around you ringing in your ears. The Mclaren driver immediately approached you taking off his helmet as his team cheered him on. You pulled of his revealing his messy curly hair and big smile. Throwing your arms around his neck as Lando smashed his lips onto yours. 

„Congrats!“ you mumbled against his lips, people around you snapping photos of the celebratory kiss. Lando had just gotten P3 in Imola and everyone was happy for him. Well, everyone expect Max. He stepped out his own car, expecting you there at the front line with Kelly and his dad, like you always had been.

„Good job!“ Kelly cheered on Max, hugging him as he ran his hand through his sweaty hair. Looking around, hoping to find you with the team.

„Where’s Y/n?“Max yelled, trying to be louder than the people and music. Kelly eyes travelled somewhere behind him before shooting Max a weak smile. Max turned around, checking what his girlfriend had just seen and when he saw what it was, he wished he never had. His own sister, arms wrapped around Landos neck literally making out in front of everyone, celebrating the younger guys win.

„Is she serious!“ Max hissed looking at Kelly and his dad to see if they saw how inappropriate this was. You were a Verstappen after all but Jos just shrugged, patting his sons shoulder while Kelly had a little more helpful advice to offer „They’re young and in love Max.“

Even though Max understood the being young part, he strongly disagreed with the being in love. You weren't in love, especially not with Lando Norris. The guy literally had the maturity of a twelve year old and god was it testing Max's patience. Fast forward to Miami, the Red Bull driver was super happy to spend time with his family ahead of the race. When going out out for dinner, to which he had invited you his mood would change once again as he saw you enter the restaurant with the Mclaren driver attached to your hip.

„Oh I‘m getting the death stare again.“ Lando whispered as you two walked through the restaurant, passing a couple of familiar faces. You sighed looking at you boyfriend, his curly hair placed ever so perfectly as his white button up revealed his tanned chest. You knew even though Lando was acting like he wasnt bothered, somewhere in his heart it did bother him that Max seemed to dislike him so strongly now. Having always considered the dutch guy as a friend up until dating you. But Daniel, who knew Max quite well, had told Lando that it was understandable for the Red bull driver to act like this. He had went for the one thing that was so clearly off limits. Everybody knew how protective Max was over you and it had worked. Well, until Lando came along.

„It‘s gonna be fine baby.“ you whispered back, placing a soft kiss on his cheek which caused him to smile. Approaching the table where your family was sat along with everyone's partners. You greeted them all with a smile and a wave, giving Kelly a hug as you hadn‘t seen her in a while, having spent all your time here with Lando. The woman complimented you backless black dress and gave you a short heads up about your brother.

„Just so you know.“ Kelly whispered as the table of was too busy catching up with Lando. She looked over at Max as your eyes followed hers, the guy sitting there with his hands intwined, resting them on the table as he watched his father talk to Lando unimpressed „He is mad you brought him as he only invited you.“

„Seriously?“ you rolled your eyes sighing as Kelly shrugged her shoulders, sending you an apologetic smile. She knew Max would always always find a reason to dislike Lando, any inconvenience being used to his favor. You took a deep breath in as Kelly sat down next to Max again, her daughter painting on her high chair next to them. Lando pulled out a chair for you, right opposite Max gesturing you to sit down. So you sat down at the end of the table, Lando taking place right next to you. 

„Hello Max.“ you put on a unamused smile, dissapointed in his behavior. He hadn’t even said hello to Lando, treating him like thin air. The brit could obviously feel the tension between you and your brother, placing his hand on your exposed thigh in order to calm you. He knew you and Max where actually quite similar, both extremely stubborn in wanting things your way. He loved that you were passionate but found it ironic that it was the very thing you disliked about your brother.

„Hello Y/n.“ Max smile was as fake as it could be as he leaned back on the bench with his arms crossed, still not looking at Lando once. It triggered something inside of you. Why could he not see you where happy? So after two glasses of champagne and a rather awkward first course of your dad asking Lando a million questions, you finally got it. Maybe it was the alcohol that made you think it was a good idea, deciding if Max didn’t wanna look at Lando you‘d just make him do so.

Luckily you were sat at the end of the table, out of your dads view and with your sister husband next to Lando who was to busy on his phone anyways. Landos hand still resting on your thigh awfully high you squirmed your legs a little, hoping the brit would notice. And of course Lando did as he looked at you with furrowed brows. Seeing the look on your face and you chewing on your lip immediately ringing his alarm bells. He cleared his throat trying to overplay your moving around, trapping his hand between your legs.

„No absolutely not Y/n!“ Lando whispered in your ear, awfully aware that Max could look any moment as the family was enrolled in some discussion about Mercedes performance this year. You sighed his face dangerously close to yours as you put on a pout. Your hands travelling under the table as they reached for Landos hand, pushing your dress aside and making him travel higher almost touching you. The brit clenched his jaw, cursing himself that this actually turned him on. Leaning over to you you once again he muttered in your ear „We can’t do this Y/n.“

A smirk in your lips, as you placed his hand over your private area only the material of your underwear between you. Lando took a deep breath in as he saw the look on your face, he was actually fucked and he knew it. He applied a little pressure as you whimpered slightly, now actually fully turned on. Completely having forgotten about your plan as you felt Lando slowly push your underwear aside, thanking god for the white cloth on the table, hiding what was happening. The brit leaned over to you, his voice all raspy as he muttered „This is on you baby. Don’t blame me.“

With that Lando started tracing circles on your clit with his fingers, making you clutch on to your chair with your hands overwhelmed by the sensation. Lando just sat there leaning back in his chair as if nothing was happening, continuing to listen to your fathers rant. You only now noticed Max's eyes on you. The Red bull driver looked at you with furrowed brows and a critical look on his face. Yours and Landos secretive whispering having caught his attention. You bit your lip, trying to resist the urge to make any sound as Lando picked up his pace. He was so very aware of Max's eyes on you but this was your idea, so you had to be punished. Lando ignored his own hard on as he felt your hand digging into his thigh.

Kelly had noticed Max tense up next to her as she looked at what was bothering the guy so much. When her eyes landed on you she seemed confused for a second but then seeing you squirm around, biting your lips and Landos arm seemingly somewhere on your side under the table, she immediately chocked on her water. You silently thanked god for it as it made Max turn towards her worried, making sure she was fine. Giving you the chance to turn towards your own boyfriend and mutter in his ear „Lando stop please.“

Lando had a mischievous smirk placed on his lips as his hand stopped moving. Insteading he ran his fingers through your wet folds stoping right above your entrance. And when you could feel his finger start slipping in you immediately pressed your legs together, causing the brit to chuckle „What baby? I thought you wanted this?“

You shook your head, your face flushed as you pressed you lips together sending Lando a serious look „I know but I can‘t.“

Lando chuckled rolling his eyes, he knew you were serious right now. Placing a soft kiss on your cheek before whispering „I know baby, I‘ll stop for now.“

You sighed relieved he was willing to let this go as he was normally quite serious when it came to punishing you. You‘d probably get it later, which was also kind of exciting. Kelly had finally calmed down as Max eyes fell back on you, overwhelmed with the situation. Seeing the Mclaren driver smirk at you as he whispered something which to Max's understanding was something like „You have to let me go though.“

You opened your legs allowing Lando to take his hand away, as he rearranged your panties. Pulling down your dress as his hand was placed on your thigh once again. Leaning back in his chair, like nothing had happened as you ran your hands through your hair, trying to collect yourself. Looking up to see Max look at you once again with his jaw clenched, looking severely pissed off, you innocently raised your eyebrows acting oblivious. 

„That better not have been what it looked like.“

So you see, everybody would understand Max right? No one wanted to see their sister and her boyfriend act like horny teenager 24/7. From making out in front of him, to even hearing you two go at it at night, it was all too much for the dutch driver. And as you were a saint in Max's eyes he soon convinced himself that this was all Landos fault. His bad influence on you clearly evident. The amount of times Max had seen hickeys on your neck became uncountable. But that wasnt even the worst. It seemed like you and Lando had no censor whatsoever no more, which was completely disrespectful in Max's opinion. And then at the Spanish grand prix everything got sort of out of hand.

„Norris how‘s the girlfriend?“ Pierre spoke as he grabbed a water out the fridge of the break room. The guys where doing press today in different groups and of course Max had been thrown in with Lando. Her silently cursed himself, leaning against the wall drinking his Red Bull as he watched Lando sit on the couch surrounded by Charles and Pierre, Daniel still busy wrestling Yuki. The world champion shook his head at the level of immaturity in the room.

„Don’t talk about her Gasly.“ Lando warned Pierre, referencing the time where Pierre had actually tried to hit on you. Pierre was of course super drunk and put in his place by Max rather quickly. Well, he was punched in the face to be completely honest but that’s what he got for throwing himself onto you like that. Pierre chuckled, feeling like it was funny story now. He knew you had forgiven him for it now, you two even joked about it.

„Come on Lando! That was like so long ago!“ Charles laughed, placing himself on the couch next to Lando who was completely unaware of the fact that Max was standing leaning against the wall just a few meters behind them hearing every word they said. If he knew he probably wouldn’t have done and told what was about to come. As Charles wrapped his arm around the younger guy, looking at his phone as Pierre did the same from the other side. 

„Oh, is that her?“ Charles wiggled his eyebrows looking at the picture on the phone which you had just sent Lando. The brit chuckled, opening the picture of you in one of his Mclaren shirts. He thought it was innocent, just you showing off how proud you were of him. 

„Yes, it’s an inside joke look we have a lot of pictures-" the guy started, blissfully opening up his camera roll in order to show the guys what he meant. But the very first picture that appeared made Landos face drop and he went as pale as a ghost as Charles next to him started laughing like crazy causing everybody to look „Jeez Lando! That’s freaky!“

Pierre covering his mouth shocked, still staring at the screen. Lando couldn’t even react, because next thing he knew Max appeared behind him ripping the phone out his hand. The image engraved in his mind forever of his sister sitting on top of Lando in an orange bra and a Mclaren hat. Landos hand literally around her neck. 

Charles laughter immediately stopped as he saw who exactly had just taken Landos phone while Pierre thanked himself for not having commented anything. Having felt first hand what angry Verstappen was like. Max felt nauseous as he turned off the phone, looking at Lando who just looked speechless. Had Max just actually seen that picture of you on top of him half naked? It was clearly evident what was happening in the picture which made everything even worse.

„Max-" Lando started trying to explain that he would have never showed this to anyone on purpose. But Max just shook his head, furious with Lando seemingly treating his sister like some girl he was just fucking. 

Daniel had caught wind of the situation, letting go of Yuki as he approached the younger guys on the couch. Seeing Max look like he was about to kill someone, he knew he had to intervene and that was just right timing because just like that Max grabbed Lando by the collar of his Mclaren polo.

„Max dude!“ Daniel yelled, not condoling the violence while Pierre and Charles pushed Max back a little. Daniel using the chance to hold the dutch driver back. 

„No he‘s a fucking idiot!“ Max yelled, clearly upset about this. Daniel nodded understanding the dutch guy, immediately recognizing that something inappropriate had been on that phone. 

„I understand you're mad but right now‘s not the time man.“ Daniel tried calming his former teammate, while everybody was dead silent. Lando knew he had fucked up now. The chance of Max liking him now neraly zero and that for a valid reason. 

„No honestly!“ Max said his voice nearly trembling as he looked at Daniel shaking his head. He held up Landos phone, which was turned off „That‘s my fucking sister!“

With that Max threw the phone towards Lando. The young guy catching it totally taken aback. Max looked at Lando one last time with his arms crossed and his jaw clenched before shaking his head and walking off, leaving the room evidently pissed off. Daniel sighed looking at the three young guys on the couch, especually Lando who he was disappointed in. He understood that Max felt like this was disrespectful. 

„Seriously guys?"

When Lando had told you what happened you were furious with him. Not only that he was stupid enough to open it in front of Pierre and Charles but also you freaking brother. Knowing you were never gonna hear the end of this. But surprisingly Max didn't ever mention it to you again. Probably also because you had been mad at Lando the whole week and never had talked about him in front of your brother again. But you still felt like Max would normally be the one to lecture you.

„Y/n?“ Lando approached you when you were standing outside the Alpha Tauri hospitality waiting for Pierre as you had agreed to go to lunch with him. Feeling like talking to an old friend would distract you a little from Lando but here he was again. You looked at your boyfriend through your sunglasses, the sun way to hot on the pavement. Lando also sweating his ass of in his racing suit  rearranged his hat „Can we talk?“

„No.“ you crossed your arms, not in the mood to talk to him right now. But Lando didn't give up, he just sighed taking a step towards you. Putting his hands on your waist as he trapped you between himself and the wall a pout on his lips as he saw your still stern expression „Come on baby. You can't seriously still be mad about-"

„Oh, trust me Lando.“ you clenched your jaw looking at your boyfriend and resisting the urge to touch his adorable face „I'm still mad!“

„I didn’t do it on purpose baby!“ Lando whined, throwing his head back his voice extremely high pitched. God, why did he have to be so cute? No! you were still mad at him. He had embarrassed you in front of your friends and your brother.

„No Lando! You should have been more careful. Do you know how embarrassing that is? Especially in front of my friends and my brother-"

„Jesus christ Y/n! It‘s not like Pierre and Charles haven’t seen a naked girl-" Lando hissed but stopped himself, knowing he had just said something incredibly stupid. The expression on the young guys face one of regret. You bit the inside of your lips, swallowing as you felt like you could literally start crying.

„So what I’m just some naked girl to you?“ you whispered, Lando closing his eyes cursing himself for his reckless choice of words. He just wanted you to see that it wasn’t that big a deal and that he didn’t want to do it. Instead he had made everything even worse. The two of you were interrupted by someone clearing their throat next to you as you looked to the right to see Pierre stand there in his white button up and with sunglasses on his head „You ready Y/n?“ 

You put your own ones down again, not wanting Pierre to see your teary eyes as you unwinded yourself from Landos grasp. Removing his hands from your waist as he grabbed your wrist once again. You looked back at his face, seeing he looked actually upset „Wait…Where are you going?“

„I’m going to lunch with Pierre.“ you stated coldly, knowing that Lando was sensitive when it came to you and Pierre being friends. After he had made clear indications he liked you, any boyfriend wouldn’t like it.

„Really Y/n?“ Lando clenched his jaw, feeling like you were doing this on purpose to hurt him. But you just shrugged, ripping your arm from his hold before turning towards Pierre who looked extremely uncomfortable with what he had just walked into. 

„Really Lando.“ you just shrugged walking past Pierre, who pressed his lips together sending Lando an apologetic smile. But Lando wasn't amused as he looked at Pierre with his arms crossed. Disappointed the guy actually would do this. Pierre sighed before walking away backwards „Look mate it’s just lunch.“

Just lunch? The words drove Lando incredibly mad. After a long day of practicing he went back to his place, kicking of his shoes and heading straight to the shower before placing himself on his bed with his hair dripping wet. Turning on his phone to see his wallpaper a picture of you he had taken at the beach in Miami. God he loved your smile so much. Aimlessly scrolling through his instagram, he saw you had posted a series of pictures with the caption "When in Monaco". Mostly just things about your day at work at Red Bull but then the last two slides where the ones that made him wanna throw his phone against the wall. It was a picture of Pierre opposite you at lunch, drinking some orange drink while smiling into the camera and then another one of you at the beach with an Alpha Tauri hat on your head all smiles and giggles and tagged in the picture was none other than the french guy himself.

So much for going out for lunch, Lando thought as he scrolled through your comments. Lando was relieved that people also felt like you and Pierre hanging out was weird, as everyone wondered if you and Lando were fighting. Lando just knew he had to talk to you again but first he‘d need some sleep. The next day would be qualifyings after all.

„Y/n?“ Max knocked on the door of your bedroom, which sou had at his place as you were sat at your makeup table. Getting ready to go out. You looked at your brother, freshly showered standing in the doorway, Kelly behind him eavesdropping. The two of them just had a long discussion on about what was going on between you and Lando. You hadn't talked about the brit or hung out with him in over a week. Which was odd considering you were both in the same town. And your pictures with Gasly made them even more suspicious. Kelly feeling like if you two were fighting was all Max's fault and that he should be there for his sister. Max of course disagreed, telling her he wasn't to blame for the brits immaturity and that you two breaking up would have to come eventually.

„What Max?“ you asked and Max could hear you were upset by the tone of your voice. He walked imto the room as Kelly appeared in the door, seeing Max approach you. The guy put his hand around your shoulder in a comforting manner as he leaned down to her „Is everything okay?“

Kelly thanked the lord Max was seemingly finally doing the right thing she decided to give you some alone time closing the door behind her. You looked at Max, trying to not start crying as you put down your brush. The truth was that you were really not okay. You missed Lando, but you were incredibly dissapionted with what he had said to you.

So you just shook your head „No…“

„Is it Lando?“ Max asked, seemingly serious about his concern for you. You just nodded, wiping the corner of your eyes. It was hard for you to admit that Lando might actually be what Max had told you he was. 

„What did he do?“ Max clenched his jaw, clearly mad at the guy that had made his sister cry. This was exactly what he was afraid of from day one. And he had told everyone, Kelly, his father and even you that it eventually end like this but no one listened to him.

„He just said some things.“ you chocked, your brother getting aggravated even more. He caressed your back, kneeling down next to you „What did he say?“

You shook your head wiping your tears, knowing you shouldn’t tell Max. He would get even more mad at Lando and you were scared he might actually hurt him by now. But Max didn’t let go, he raised his eyebrows continuing „Y/n tell me what he said.“

„He- He…“ you stuttered, trying to collect your thoughts as you looked at the floor. Too ashamed to look into Max's eyes „We were talking about that..that picture you know.“

Max swallowed, as he nodded. He of course knew what picture you were talking about. 

„He didn’t even care about Charles and Pierre seeing it or how embarrassed I feel.“ you continued, trying to get to the point as it was rather awkward „He just said that it‘s not a big deal because the guys have seen plenty of naked girls. So now I understand that I’m just some naked girl to him.“

Max was furious. He had ranted to Kelly all night long on how shit guys were especially at your age. Kelly had told Max she was sure Lando didn’t mean that and that he should let the two of you sort it out.

Qualifying had been cut short, which you were kind of glad about. Knowing race day would be exhausting as it always was in Monaco. You were waiting for Max outside the Red Bull home, having spent the last 24 hour attached to his hip as he didn’t let you out of sight. Wanting to make sure you were fine at all times.  

Max was gonna start P4 and right behind him was Lando, who wasn't doing well at all that day. The only thought on his mind being you and how much he missed you. He knew he should apologize but to mad you had gone out with Pierre. So he decided to keep his distance for now. His heart aching everytime he saw you that day, wanting nothing more than to hold you in his arms. 

„Charles.“ Lando caught up to his friend, who was making his way out the paddock ,fans watching from aside. Charles looked at the Mclaren driver, shooting him a smile „Yes. Lando?

„Wanna get dinner together?“ Lando asked, rearranging his backpack as he ingored the yelling from people all around. The Ferrari driver sent Lando an apologetic smile „I would but I kind of...have plans.“

„Plans?“ Lando asked, scrunching his eyebrows. He knew Charles was hiding something from him. He just had no idea what it could be „What plans?“

„Alright don’t be mad though.“ Charles sighed, pursing his lips. The guy had no idea what had happened between Lando and you, but he knew you two were kind of having a crisis. Lando raised his eyebrows as he shook his head, walking alongside the Ferrari Driver „I won’t be mad I promise.“

„Well…“ Charles shrugged his shoulder, still contemplating whether or not to tell Lando about it but then decided it be the right thing „Pierre Invited Charlotte and me to dinner with him and…with Y/n.“

Lando spent all evening refreshing his instagram page, hoping he'd get to see something. He couldn’t handle the thought of you out with another guy on what seemed like a double date. You were still his girlfriend after all. You two hadn’t broken up so this was wrong. Then finally at around 11 pm a fan account posted a picture showing you next to Pierre at some restaurant. You were clearly wearing Pierres jacket unaware of the photo being taken. All smiles and happy. All the people in the comments asking what the hell was going on. Which Lando also started asking himself.

But Lando wasn’t the only confused one. Max couldn’t believe his eyes when he looked out his window that night. Watching Pierre Gasly drop you off, hugging you goodbye a little too long for his liking. The dutch driver actually felt like he was gonna go mad. Where you ever gonna learn? This was F1 biggest man whore. Even Lando was a better fit for you and that was hard for the dutch driver to admit.

When you entered Max's house he just stood there in the dark hallway with his arms crossed, looking like a literal father. You raised your eyebrows wanting to pass him but he stopped you grabbing your shoulder „Wait up missy.“

Oh god did he just actually call you that? You rolled your eyes, the alcohol in your system giving you quite an attitude. You were tired and wanted to sleep. You couldn‘t take Maxs bullshit now.

„What Max?“ you groaned, as Max scrunched his nose and shook his head.

„How much alcohol did you drink?“  he asked, as you looked at him annoyed. Why did it even matter, you were an adult after all. You unwinded yourself from Max's grasp but he still kept blocking your way. He felt like you owed him an explanation after all you had literally cried to him about your bad decisions just twenty four hours ago. Max who normally tried to keep his cool with you just had enough. As it felt like a switch had been flicked in him „You can not seriously go around the paddock and shag every driver that shows you a little attention. You know what that makes you look like. Like a-"

Max stopped himself as he saw the look in your eyes. He knew he had messed up. He didn't want to be the one to hurt you like this. You shook your head pushing past your brother as you made your way to your bedroom, going to sleep that night with a weird feeling. 

Race day in Monaco was always special. But you feared you‘d remember this one for all the bad reasons. You now not only had to avoid one guy on the paddock but two. It was hard as you of course were working and Max was also there. But you spent most of your time inside, only walking around if really needed. You cursed yourself internally when Horner told you to get him his favorite salad for lunch. But hey, you were the intern so you had to.

Passing Max on your way out, who was too focused on preparations. Never ever letting his private life affect his racing. 

Walking down the paddock, passing all the motor homes when you spotted Pierre. The french guy shooting you a smile as you approached him, embracing you in a friendly hug „Good morning, how are we feeling?“

You smiled, pulling back. Pierre was a great guy and the truth of the matter was that despite what people might have thought you two were really just friends. In fact the french guy had spenr all evening yesterday advicing you on how to work things out with Lando. He could obviously see how much you two loved one another and wanted it to work out for the two of you.  He also agreed that Lando would have to apologize though, even if he didn’t mean what he said.

Talking about Lando. The Mclaren driver felt like he was losing his mind. He had almost not been able to sleep last night, every-time he closed his eyes the image of you snd Pierre engraved in his mind. 

„I‘m fine thank you.“ you chuckled, and out the corner of your eye you could spot none other than your boyfriend. Leaning against a wall next to Daniel who was chatting with the mechanics. Lando looked rough, not like his usual happy and bubbly self. You didn’t even listen to Pierre anymore to focused on the boy who had stolen your heart. Knowing exactly what he was feeling right now, the crossed arms and the frown he was pulling giving him away. Something took over you right there and then as you abruptly interrupted Pierre, apologizing yourself before walking past him and heading straight towards Lando.

Checking the time on your watch, you saw there was enough time for you to go through with your plan. Lando couldn't believe his eyes when he watched you head straight towards him. To baffled and surprised to say anything you grabbed his upper arm, leaning into his ear and whispered „Don't say anything.“

Lando nodded like a puppy obeying your every word as you took his hand and lead him into the building. Leaving behind Daniel, who chuckled knowingly as the mechanics all shook their head. Young people.

In the backroom of the motor home, where no one usually was. You let the door fall close behind you as you turned around facing Lando. The guy too stunned to speak as he wondered what you were gonna do next. And then as you pushed him against the wall, he almost couldn’t believe it. Your lips crashing on his, your hands wrapping around his neck while Lando moaned into the kiss. He wanted to ask so bad what had changed but was scared to ruin the moment.

„I‘m still mad.“ you mumbled against his lips and Lando responded „Me too.“

„But I know you wouldn’t be able to race this worked up.“ you chuckled, feeling his hard on press against you. It was yours and Landos pre race ritual to give one another some kind of release. But this time it was different. You weren’t really here to help Lando out but little did he know. As you eagerly started pulling down his racing suit, hanging from his hips while he entered his tongue in your mouth, exploring every inch of it. Then with one swift motion your hand was in Landos pants touching him as he felt overwhelmed by the sensation.

„Fuck.“ he muttered, causing you too chuckle. Oh god if he couldn’t handle this, god save him from what was about to come. Pulling away as you looked at Landos puffy lips and messy hair. He was so totally at your ease it was endearing. You continued your plan by getting on your knees in front o the young guy. As he watched your every move with a clenched jaw. Soon enough his underwear was down and his hands buried in your hair ad you took his cock in your hand. Ever so slowly you licked his length before taking him into your mouth and then it was just waiting for the right time.

Lando was a moaning and groaning mess, his grip on your hair strong and firm as he let out a short „Fuck baby.“ 

As you watched his moans grow louder and his face scrunching up by every secon while you bobbed your head back and forward you almsot felt bad. Bad for what you were about to do. All so swiftly you pulled back, adding a little force so Lando would loosen his hold of your head which he did having no idea what was going on. He watched you confused as you got up, wiping the corner of your mouth „Glad to see that still works. Talk to me when you're ready to apologize.“

And than with that you left the poor guy behind, too shocked to say anything as he now knew he had to take care of his problem alone.

After a rather long day of racing, considering all the red flags you had agreed to go party with everyone. Knowing how fun these afterpartys could get. You were happy with Red Bulls work today and felt like you all deserved to celebrate. So you put on the shortest dress you owned and got ready with Kelly. All the while your brother tried calling Lando. Max had caught wind of you inviting Pierre with you and was not pleased. Even though most drivers where gonna be there, he felt like you going out your way to make sure Gasly was also there wasn’t a good thing. And even though he didn’t like to admit it, he knew the only person that could keep you from making a bad decision was annoying, childish and stupid Lando. 

„Listen you little..I need you to talk to my sister.“ 

You downed what seemed like your 10th shot with Pierre as Charles cheered the two of you on. The party was in full swings and you were having the time of your life. All the while Max was sitting on the lounge with crossed arms, watching Gasly be way too friendly. He couldn’t believe Lando was actually letting this happen. The brit busy getting drunk in some corner with Daniel and a bunch of random women. Lando had gotten here with the plan to talk to you. But god, he was still so mad on how you had left him today that he just couldn’t do it. Plus he was so disappointed in Pierre and Charles that he went to rant to Daniel, who told him to just get drunk and forget.

When Max watched Pierre drag you to the dance floor and you literally grind your ass against the older guy he decided he had seen enough. Ignoring Kellys calls after him he pushed his way through people and headed straight towards Lando, who was sitting in some swinging chair in the corner with a drink in his hand and some random hat on, looking like he had a decent amount of alcohol in his system. Too wasted to even notice the random girls around him all thirsting over him. 

„You!“ Max yelled over the music, causing everyone to look at him. Well expect Daniel, who was too busy making out with what looked like his girlfriend. Or maybe it wasn’t but Max couldn’t handle everyones problem right now. Lando looked at Max with wide eyes, clearly clueless in what was going on „You’re even worse than I thought!“

„What?“ Lando whined. his voice extremely high pitched. What had he done now? He had not even touched you! Landos drunken mind tried to come up with what Max's problem could be now „Is this about blow job? Because that was your sister-"

„Eww!“ Max scrunched up his face in disgust, hearing Lando talk about you. Lando soon realizing it probably wasn’t about that „Stop no! This is about you having to apologize to my sister now!“

Lando groaned, throwing up his hands in frustration „What? Why do I Have to-„

„Because Pierre is literally about to make out with her on the dance floor.“

That was it. Landos whole demeanor changed. It was like he had just sobered up within seconds as he jumped out his chair, stumbled over the table and pushed straight past Max showing his drink into his chest while doing so. Throwing his hat off as Max rolled his eyes, yelling after Lando to also apologize for him as he hadn't yet done so himself. He still hated Lando but the guy seemed like the lesser of two evils.

As Lando walked up to the dance floor, he could already spot Charles and Charlotte make out at the bar and just a few meters away from them there you were. Gasly's hands literally roaming your body as you were grinding up against him his face buried in your neck. You honestly didn’t even mean to dance with Pierre like this and he did neither probably. You were both just super drunk and not thinking clearly but then when you swiftly opened your eyes to see a pissed off Lando stand there with crossed arms you thought you might have just started having hallucinations. But opening them again for real and seeing your brother appear behind Lando, his usual disappointed stance you knew you weren't.

„Lando.“ you gasped, almost feeling busted. Nothing had really happened but Pierre still continuing to dance didn’t help make it look better as you stood there frozen in place. Lando clenched his jaw seeing where Pierres hand were wandering. Luckily Charles had caught wind of the situation as he ran over to you. The Ferrari Driver pulled his best friend away from you, dragging the stumbling guy away „Not your girl Pierre!“

Pierre didn't even disobey that's how drunk he was. Lando now took a step towards you a sad look on his face "Okay I apologize baby. I'm sorry for what I said"

"So am I." Max yelled behind Lando making you roll your eyes.

"I accept your apology." you chuckled, causing Lando to smile. The brit leaning in towards you and grabbing your upper arm before whispering "Now don't say anything."

You grinned, knowing he had just quoted you as you followed him past Max. Your brother sighing and shaking his head as you waved him goodbye. Not even ten seconds later he could see Lando press you against the wall and smash his lips onto yours. Max cringed at sloppy sight of it ad he turned around making his way back to Kelly, who sat there with a smirk on her face. With raised eyebrows the dutch guy sat down. Rubbing his knees with his hand as he could hear Kelly chuckle before she placed a soft kiss on his cheek.

„What?“ Max asked, having to resist the urge to smile.

„Nothing.“ Kelly giggled, before looking at you and Lando fully making out „You did the right thing Max. I‘m proud of you.“

„Yeah whatever.“ Max shrugged pretending to not care as he also looked at you Lando. Shaking his head ad he groaned „God he doesn't have to eat her up though?"