NO HAY SUFICIENTE GENTE HABLANDO SOBRE LAS NUEVAS REGLAS DE LA DICTADURA FIA LITERALMENTE NO VAN A PODER

I was talking with a friend about fanfics and when I said that when I like an author I write down their username and that sometimes I even write phrases about them SHE CALLED ME CREEPY

Count down to Forever | LN4

Lando Norris X Reader (Requested)

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lando thinks he should feel jealous, maybe.

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

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

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

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

It was a countdown.

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

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

13 hours, 23 minutes, 56 seconds.

That was the time remaining.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something big. Something important.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not Lando Norris, but Lando.

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

Would she want to know him, all of him?

He barely noticed when the door cracked open.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Across the table, Oscar squinted at him.

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

___________________________

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

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

Oscar blinks. “Your soulmate timer?”

Lando nods. “Yeah.”

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

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

Oscar’s voice is calm, steady. “Why?”

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

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

Lando falters.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lando wonders if he'll have someone like that.

Well, you'll find out tomorrow mate

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

___________________________

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

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

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

“Thanks, Osc” Lando muttered.

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

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

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

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

Silence. Then, understanding.

“Ohhh,” Zak said.

“Oh,” Charlotte echoed.

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

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

“It’s not,” Charlotte said immediately.

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

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

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

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

Lando scowled. “I hate you all.”

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

Lando shot him a glare. “Not helpful.”

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

Lando sighed. “What?”

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

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

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

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

Lando groaned. “I really hate you all.”

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

________________________

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

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

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

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

Two... One...

Zero.

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

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

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

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

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

His chest tightened. Perfect.

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

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

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

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

He had to let go. Right?

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

Her touch felt like coming home.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you wanna get some coffee?”

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

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

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

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

And just like that, the wait was over.

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

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

The start to his forever.

______________________________________

Thank you for reading!

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

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

Jules♡

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

okay I just love the idea of Anakin being in love, he is sooo devoted and sincere 😭😭

and I need more fics without fights and problems, just anakin × oc being happy 😫

mu qing — type of boyfriend

he would not show his love physically

instead he would show it with actions

actions with a bad attitude

where were you? are you hurt? you really can't take care of yourself.

no doubt that he is a tsundere

actually hates it when you get hurt

if it's a big wound, he'll take care of you while scolding you for being careless

doesn't like to talk about the relationship, prefers to keep things private

he would never let you go out disheveled

he suddenly brings you gifts, and they are all perfectly pressed dresses

likes it when you catch demons

White Noise | MV1

Max Verstappen x Reader

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

Warning(s): Mild Language, angst, hurt/comfort for like a small bit, fluff, for like tiny moment. Basically, they finally talk. Alternating povs.

Part 4 ~Series Masterlist~

"I've been the archer, I've been the prey, Screaming, who could ever leave me, darling?....But who could stay?"

Y/N's heart was racing, pounding in her chest like a drum, each beat reverberating through her entire body.

The moment she had stepped into the room, she felt it—the unmistakable pull, the presence of him. Her soul’s reaction was instantaneous, a thrumming sensation deep within her, filling the hollow space that had plagued her for as long as she could remember.

The pulse, the ringing in her ears, it was all him.

But this wasn’t supposed to happen. Not now. Not like this.

She had always thought, somehow, that she would be prepared for this moment, where she would have to finally confront him, but standing in the midst of a crowded party, the weight of everything crashing down on her, she wasn’t ready.

The memories of Bahrain flooded her mind—the first time she had felt it, the moment her heart had surged with desperation. But it had been too much.

She had run then, and now, she was running again.

Her feet carried her forward without her consent, an instinct she couldn’t stop. She had made it to the hallway, the coolness of the air helping to clear her head, but she knew, deep down, that he was following.

She could hear his footsteps, his voice rising above the noise of the party.

"Wait!"

His shout cut through her thoughts, piercing the air with urgency. His voice—his tone—was enough to make her stumble, her heart skipping, the sound of it thrumming in her chest, drowning everything else out.

"Stop, please."

The pleading, desperate tone sent a sharp tremor through her. She couldn’t explain why, but it was like an invisible thread pulling at her, urging her to turn around.

Her body seemed to act on its own, and before she could think, she was facing him, standing there in the hallway, his figure illuminated by the soft lights behind him.

Her breath caught in her throat as her gaze met his. His eyes were wide, searching—no, desperate, as he took a step closer, his presence magnetic, impossible to ignore.

He was right there. So close. Yet, the distance between them felt like an entire universe.

"Please, just let me talk to you. Once. Please."

The sincerity in his voice was enough to steal the air from her lungs.

She had tried so hard to block out the pull, the ache deep inside of her, but hearing that one word—please—it undid everything.

It made her pause, made her stand still. It was as though the universe had stopped just for this moment, just for him to speak those words, those two simple syllables that somehow held the weight of a thousand unspoken things.

For a moment, she couldn’t find her voice. The bond, the overwhelming pull of their connection, was like a storm inside her.

She could feel her pulse in every part of her body, an unbearable rhythm that matched the frantic thrum of her thoughts.

Why is this happening now?

The question spun in her mind, but she didn’t have the answers. She didn’t want to have the answers. Not yet. Not when she had worked so hard to push this all away.

But as his eyes searched hers, she realized there was no denying it anymore. She couldn’t pretend anymore.

He was here, in front of her, and that was something she had to face.

This isn’t a game, her mind whispered to her. This is real.

She swallowed, trying to steady her breath, but her heart wouldn’t let her. The sound of it, so loud, so clear in her ears, only seemed to grow louder the longer she stood there, staring at him.

He took a cautious step forward, as though unsure whether to approach or wait for her permission.

Y/N could see the hesitation in his posture, the way his muscles were tense, ready to react to whatever she might do next.

She nodded almost imperceptibly, a gesture that was barely there but enough to give him the signal.

Slowly, she turned and began walking down the hallway, her heels clicking sharply against the polished floors.

She heard his footsteps behind her, closer now, a steady rhythm that matched the pounding in her chest.

She wasn’t sure if it was because of the bond or the weight of the moment, but it felt as though the air around her was thickening, pressing down on her, making it harder to breathe.

The hallway seemed to stretch endlessly, but Y/N didn’t stop walking until she reached a door at the far end, a small storage room that had been used to store event supplies. It was tucked away from the bustling party, isolated, quiet—perfect for what needed to happen next.

Without looking back, she pushed the door open and stepped inside. The room was dimly lit, boxes and supplies stacked haphazardly against the walls. The space smelled faintly of cardboard and dust, but Y/N didn’t care. She needed this isolation. She needed to clear her head, even if just for a moment.

The door clicked shut behind her, and she finally turned to face him.

Max stood just inside the doorway, his hand on the handle as if he was still unsure whether to cross the threshold completely. His expression was a mix of determination and uncertainty, and she could feel the weight of his gaze on her, like it was pulling at her from all directions.

He stepped forward then, his presence filling the small space between them.

Her eyes flickered to him, then quickly down to the floor. She couldn’t meet his gaze for too long, not yet. Not when she was still so terrified of what this meant.

Max didn’t speak right away. He just stood there, close but still holding back, waiting for her to say something, to give him some sort of sign that she was ready to talk.

But all she could do was breathe—deep, steadying breaths, trying to calm herself down. The pulse in her chest was almost deafening. She knew that she had to speak, there was no turning back now.

But still, she hesitated.

Max shifted on his feet, the tension in his posture thick, as if he was about to break, but he held himself together—barely. His fingers were twitching at his sides, and he felt the hum deep in his chest, a gnawing ache that wouldn’t subside.

He cleared his throat, the sound breaking the heavy silence like a crack in a wall. "Max," he said, his voice rough, but it wasn’t the authoritative tone he used in the paddock, or the smooth calm of someone used to dealing with media.

This was Max—vulnerable, unsure. The kind of Max who didn’t often show himself.

"Max Verstappen," he added, as though his name should mean something, though he already knew it wouldn’t. Not with the way she ran from him.

Y/N didn’t react, not right away. Her eyes were fixed on the floor, her arms crossed over her chest, a protective shield she had built up over the years and didn’t dare lower. She wasn’t sure what would happen if she did.

Max couldn’t help himself; he took a step closer, the pull drawing him forward as though the space between them was shrinking. But she didn’t move, her gaze still locked downward, her posture as stiff as steel.

"I don’t bite," he added with a half-smile, though it was strained, the humor barely there. He tried to make light of it, but it wasn’t working. The tension was too thick, the pulse between them too strong, too loud in his ears.

She remained silent, the words staying on the tip of her tongue. Why was he still here? Why couldn’t he leave her be?

He pressed on, the silence growing unbearable. His frustration was creeping in, and he didn’t bother hiding it. "You’re not gonna run again, are you? I don’t know what the hell happened back there, but this..." He gestured between them, his hands opening slightly, his frustration flaring.

"This can’t be a mistake. I felt it, and I know you did too." His words came out blunt, as direct as he could manage, with no filters, no hesitation.

Y/N’s lips pressed together, and she took in a slow breath, but the words didn’t come. She wasn’t sure what to say. She wasn’t sure if she was allowed to say anything.

She could feel the pulsing, the hum, the ache in her bones, her chest, her heart. It was all him. But how could she acknowledge it?

"Why did you run?" Max’s voice cracked just slightly as he asked, the vulnerability that he rarely showed slipping through.

He didn’t wait for an answer, though. He knew. He felt it.

"You think I’m just some guy in a hotel room, shaking hands with sponsors, a guy who just races for a living, and that’s all I am? You think that’s all I can be?" His voice softened, but the frustration was still there, curling around his words like smoke. "I don’t even know your name, but I can’t... I can’t just let you run away again."

Y/N’s breath hitched at his words. There was a bite in his voice now, a quiet hurt that she couldn’t ignore. It stung, sharp and unexpected.

Max took another step, his eyes locking on hers, desperate for something—anything—that would help him understand this.

But all he found was cold, detached silence. It was like hitting a wall, and yet, somehow, that wall was cracking, just a little, with each second that passed. He could feel it in his chest, in the air between them.

"Are you just going to stay silent?" he asked, frustration giving way to a tinge of sadness.

"Is that how you’re going to play this? Because I can’t stand it. I want us to talk, to figure this out, I've waited so long. I—" He stopped, realizing how much he was saying, how exposed he had become. He had never been this open with anyone. Not like this.

Y/N’s gaze flicked up then, just briefly, her eyes meeting his. The connection between them flickered, a brief, sharp spark that ignited everything inside him. She was silent, but in her eyes, he saw something.

Fear. Anger. And beneath that, a thread of longing—a recognition.

“I’m not going to run,” she finally said, her voice firm, but with a quiver beneath the surface. Her words were clipped, like they were hard to get out, like they didn’t fit the situation.

She had never been good at this. At feeling things, at letting herself feel things that weren’t controlled. But here she was. Here.

Max’s expression softened, but only just. He could see through her, even if she tried to hide it. He could see the cracks in her facade, the way she was breaking just a little with every word, every silence.

“Then what are you going to do?” he asked, almost desperate now. He stepped closer again, close enough that the hum between them seemed to pulse with an intensity that made his heart race.

He could feel the gravity between them, the pull, the ache. And it was growing. She was so close—so close but still, so far.

She met his gaze fully now, the stone wall that she’d built around herself finally starting to crumble, piece by piece. The look in her eyes was something Max had never seen before—not in the paddock, not in the chaos of the races, not in the heat of victory. This was something else.

______________________________

Max’s eyes were still on her, searching for something, maybe an answer that would make sense of all the chaos inside her, but there was no easy way to explain this. No way to simplify what had become a tangled mess of emotions and realities.

She couldn't make this easy for him. She knew that, deep down. But it didn’t make the truth any less painful.

"I know you, Max," she started, her voice quiet but steady, though every word felt like it was scraping against her throat. "I know what you’ve worked for. The way people look at you, the expectations, the pressure."

Her chest tightened with the weight of her thoughts, and she couldn’t look away from him, even though she wanted to. “You’ve been built for this life. Racing, winning, being the best. You’ve been molded for the world you live in, Max. And you’ve made it, you’ve fucking made it. I see that. I admire it. I admire you."

She closed her eyes for a moment, swallowing the lump that had lodged in her throat, feeling the bitter taste of regret already creeping in. "But you don’t understand. I can’t be a part of it. Not with you."

Max flinched slightly, and she could see the hurt flash across his face. She wasn’t trying to hurt him, but it was inevitable. There was no way around it. Her words cut deeper than she intended.

"I know the Max Verstappen the world sees.” She swallowed, her throat tight. “But I don’t know you. Not the man standing in front of me. Not the man who is supposed to be my soulmate.”

Max inhaled sharply, his hands twitching at his sides like he wanted to reach for her. But he didn’t. Not yet.

“I waited for you too, you know?" Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it cracked under the weight of the words. “For years, I waited. At first, it was hope. Every birthday, every trip, every new place—I looked for you. I searched for something, anything, that could mean you were close. And then… hope turned into anger. Because you weren’t there. And I was supposed to be okay with that?” She shook her head. “I was supposed to live my life knowing the person meant for me was out there but nowhere near me?”

Max’s jaw clenched, the muscle in his cheek twitching.

“And then the anger faded too. And all that was left was... indifference.” She met his gaze then, unwavering.

“Because I had to move on. I had to build something for myself. I had to be enough for myself. For me”

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “And I did it. I built a life, Max. A life that didn’t need a soulmate to feel complete. A life that I carved out with my own two hands, while people pitied me for never finding you. While they whispered that I would never be whole.” Her voice hardened.

“But I proved them wrong. I am whole. I have my business. My work. A life that makes sense, a life that I control.”

Her hands trembled again, and this time she didn’t bother hiding them. She looked at him, at the storm in his eyes, at the way his lips pressed into a thin line, at the way he was fighting—really fighting—not to interrupt her.

“And now, suddenly, you’re here.” Her voice was raw now, like it had been scraped against glass. “Just when I finally have a grasp on everything, you appear and you expect me to throw all of it away? Just because the fucking universe says we’re meant to be?”

Max flinched, just barely.

“How do you know we’ll make it, Max?” She demanded. “You race. I work. You live in the spotlight, I built my life in the shadows. You chase adrenaline, I crave steadiness. Our lives are nothing alike.” She exhaled, her breath shaky. “And then there’s the fans. The media. The circus that follows you wherever you go. How am I supposed to handle that? How do we fit, Max? How can we?”

Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.

She licked her lips, voice quieter now. “I’ve spent my whole life proving that I don’t need another person to be whole. That I don’t need someone to complete me. And now you’re asking me to risk all of that… for the idea of you?”

She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling. “How am I supposed to do that?”

Her words hung in the air between them, heavy and unrelenting. She could see it in his face—the hurt, the frustration, the determination.

____________________________

Max let the silence stretch, let her words settle deep in his bones. He felt each one like a weight pressing against his ribs—sharp, heavy, relentless. But he didn’t move, didn’t waver.

Because she was here. Because she hadn’t run.

And because she was wrong.

His voice, when it came, was quiet but steady. “You say you don’t know me. And you don’t.” His gaze was unwavering. “But I don’t know you either.”

Her breath caught.

“And yet,” Max continued, taking a slow step closer, “I do.”

She tensed, but she didn’t retreat.

“I know how you walked into that room, completely composed, completely in control—until you saw me. I know the exact second you felt it, the moment the ground tilted under your feet, the way your eyes widened, just a fraction, before you turned and.. left.” His tone was measured, deliberate. “I know you’re standing here right now because you want to be, even if you don’t want to admit it.”

Her fingers twitched by her sides, barely perceptible.

Max took a step forward, slow, measured, like approaching something fragile. “You talk about waiting for me, about searching for me, about how hope turned into anger, then nothing at all.” His voice hardened. “Do you think I don’t understand that? Do you think I didn’t feel the same fucking thing?”

She inhaled sharply.

“I grew up knowing I had someone out there. Someone I was supposed to find. And I hated it.” His jaw tensed. “Because how the hell was I supposed to look for someone when my entire life was planned before I could even fucking walk?”

He let out a humorless laugh. “I didn’t have time to search, Y/N. I didn’t have the luxury. I had racing. I had pressure. I had expectations so heavy they nearly crushed me before I was old enough to understand them. I was too busy proving I deserved to be where I was.” His voice turned rough, honest. “And I did it alone.”

“You say I wasn’t there for any of it.” His voice lowered.

“Neither were you.”

She flinched and Max felt his heart break a little.

His tone softened. “You don’t know if we’re meant to be together, and you know what? Maybe we’re not.” He shrugged.

“Maybe we’ll fucking hate each other. Maybe you’ll get sick of me in a month, and I’ll drive you insane. But we don’t know that.” He exhaled. “What we do know is that this is real. It's in our bones, inked on our fucking skin, in the way our hearts have been beating for years, this bond—this is real.”

Silence.

Her lips parted like she wanted to argue, wanted to deny it, but no words came out.

Max studied her, eyes searching. “You think this is going to destroy the life you built.” A beat of silence. “Maybe it will.”

Her head snapped up, eyes flashing, but he wasn’t done.

“Or maybe it’ll make it better.” His voice was quiet, but sure. “Maybe you’ll finally let yourself have something that isn’t just work, something that isn’t just proving yourself over and over again to people who don’t matter."

He held her gaze, unwavering. "The truth is, no one knows how this will work. There’s no plan for this. No blueprint. But that doesn’t mean we walk away.”

Her eyes burned into his, searching, dissecting.

Max took a final step closer, his voice barely above a whisper now. “That doesn't mean we have to give up our chance—our realest fucking chance to be happy, I'm not asking you to throw your life away for me” He shook his head. “I want you to let me be part of it.”

Something cracked in her gaze.

________________________

The tear catches her by surprise.

She feels it before she registers it, the slow slide of warmth trailing down her cheek, an undeniable crack in the armor she had spent years perfecting.

And then—Max is there.

His hand moves before he thinks, his thumb brushing against her skin, wiping it away. The touch is featherlight, a whisper of warmth against her cheek—

And the bond pulses.

Loud. Violent. Consuming.

A shockwave of something unseen, something ancient, something theirs rips through them, and the force of it takes them both down.

Y/N stumbles, her knees buckling, but she never hits the floor.

Max is there—solid, unyielding, his reflexes faster than thought.

His arms catch her, cradle her, steady her as they both collapse onto the cold, dusty floor of the storage room.

And then—silence.

It isn’t tense. It isn’t heavy. It just is.

Her head rests against his chest, the rapid beat of his heart a perfect mirror to her own. His arms are around her, firm but careful, holding her close in a way that feels like he’s meant to.

And the bond—the bond hums.

Not a pulse, not a roar, just a steady, gentle hum. A soundless lullaby. A sigh of relief.

Y/N exhales, her breath ghosting over his suit, and for the first time in her life, she feels content. She doesn’t think. She doesn’t fight it.

She just is.

Her body curls instinctively into his, her forehead pressing against his chest, her fingers gripping lightly at his jacket as she burrows closer. It’s unconscious, inevitable. A pull she can’t deny.

Max feels it too.

His hold tightens, his grip shifting just slightly as he tucks her in closer. His heartbeat steadies, aligning with hers. His breath slows. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move—just holds her, lets her be held.

And in that moment, on the cold, dirty floor of some forgotten storage room, Max Verstappen knows exactly what paradise feels like.

Then—

The illusion shatters.

Y/N’s eyes snap open. The warmth turns to ice in an instant, her body going rigid against his.

Max feels the shift the moment it happens. The way she stiffens, the way her breath hitches like she’s just remembered something terrible.

And then—she pulls away.

Like she can’t get away fast enough.

Max feels it like a physical blow.

She scrambles to her feet, her movements sharp, almost frantic, as she wrangles her hands together, fingers twisting against each other—a nervous tic, he realizes. An anxiety response.

He gets up slower, brushing dust from his sleeves, forcing his breath to stay even, forcing himself to stay.

Silence stretches between them.

This time, it isn’t peaceful.

This time, it’s awkward. Tense. Something lingering between them, something neither of them can name, something neither of them can face.

Y/N is the first to break it.

Her voice is quiet, but firm. “Time, Max.”

A pause.

“I need time.”

And then she turns, and walks away.

Max is left standing there.

The hum in his chest—so loud, so certain just moments ago—fades into something hollow, something aching.

She’s gone.

The warmth of her body, the perfect way she fit against him, the peace he had never known—ripped away as if it had never been real.

He lets out a breath, slow and shaky, like he’s trying to steady himself on the edge of something devastating.

He had her.

For a second, for a fleeting, impossible moment, Max Verstappen had everything.

And now—

Now, he has nothing.

________________________________________

Thank you for reading!

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

Well, well, well, what do you think is going to happen next? This took out alot from me. I'm the type of woman who feels that I don't need a man to complete me. And yet, I yearn for love so much, that it hurts. So maybe I'm pouring a bit of myself into this. I can only hope that you all like it.

Jules♡

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I can't believe there is only ONE fic of franco x lando THIS IS CRIMINAL

... this is just for practicing English

Mingyu and Jeonghan, are definitely the best kissers in svt. Both of them can be romantic and playful.

I think Mingyu gives kisses when he is really happy, likes when he see you after a long day or after giving him a compliment.

Jeonghan, would give a kiss after making you frustrated or while you're making a cute face.

fuck new regulations

I'm writing a one shot with extrovert Anakin and shy reader 😫💘

wtf why this have so many likes???? I made many mistakes stop reading please 😭😭😭

@ Anakin Skywalker × Female!Reader

— english is not my first language; I'm just trying to practice don't pay attencion to this please

⚠️ mentions of rape and violence

tags: angst and a little of confort

Summary: Someone tried to rape reader while Anakin was on a mission, the last thing that the reader wants, is to talk about it. — ao3

Anakin was coming back from a successful mission, joking around with Ashoka about how many droids they destroyed, a normal habit. He was so excited from coming back home that he couldn't suppress his smile; but Obi Wan, who received them, wasn't happy. 

While the others masters looked like always, serious. Obi Wan looked at Anakin with worried eyes. 

" Is something wrong, Master? " Anakin asked, a little disappointed for not seeing you on the platform waiting for him, he wanted to be with you so bad. Stepping far from the others, finally his master answered. 

" Promise me that you are not going to freak out " Obi Wan pursed his lips, while Anakin frowns with a confused look.

" Why? " Anakin tried it to make a smile to hide his bad mood , if he was going to be sent to another long mission, he was not going to be able to bear it. Obi Wan gave him the look—I'm not going to answer until you promise—. " Okay, I promise. What happened? "

Obi Wan sighs before telling him that in the last gathering you showed up trying to hide some bruises on your body, and when Obi Wan interrogated you about it, you only said that it was nothing. Obi Wan couldn't just ignore it, you were a Senator and if you were in some kind of danger, he should inform it.

And he knows that you are close to Anakin, probably more than you should,  seeing how his padawan left barely he ended the sentence, confirmed his thoughts.

In your room, a sweet cup of tea aromatizes while you're reading papers from work. Your clothes hid the bruises on your skin, even though it had been a few days they still hurt when you pressed them. Knowing Anakin was arriving today, the concerning feeling about how you were gonna pass unnoticed makes you wanna throw out. 

Lying to Anakin wasn't one of your favorites activities, at all. However, telling him the reason for your bruises could ruin everything, could make him hate you. And that was the last thing you wanted. 

Even though you spent the last few days figuring out how to deal with this, when Anakin appeared in front of you, you realized that you weren't prepared at all. Getting inside of your room, Anakin didn't hesitate in grabbing your hand and lifting up the sleeve of your dress, watching the bruises of differents colors caused a huge impact on the jedi. You tried to hide them with your other hand but Anakin didn't allow it. 

" Who did this to you? " His eyes full of anger made you swallow, trying to keep calm.

" It's okay, Anakin. It's not a big deal" with a smile you stand up, your heart beat painfully. This was not going to work. 

" It's not okay, and you know it. Tell me who the person is." He wasn't asking, you avoided his touch, feeling that your disgusted skin didn't deserve to be touched for no one you loved. Maybe If you revealed a little of the truth he would let you forget it. 

" I really don't know" 

But Anakin didn't let you get away, trapping you between the desk and his body, your hand covered by his gentle touch made you wanna cry. 

" How did this happen?" He was so close that you could feel his breath, your eyes down revealed that you didn't want to look at him. Nevertheless Anakin wasn't going to give up "Love, how did this happen?" 

Feeling like you were collapsing, your cheek was held by Anakin, you looked up with a miserable expression.

"Can't we just forget about this? I really don't want to talk about it." You wanted Anakin to hold you close enough to wipe the dirt off your body.  He did, he hugged you around your waist and hiding his head on your shoulder.  After a long time, you finally felt safe.

You weren't prepared to relive that night, and Anakin could feel your pain, promising himself that he would find the person who hurt you and pay for It.