Ethan Hunt Is Actually A Perfect Protagonist Because He’s A Huge Bitch, Distractingly Pretty, And Divorced—which

landoscar 4+1 kiss things.

alternate title: four times it's casual and the first time it isn't

this one is inspired by @prokrastinartiya's landoscar kissing meme! i saw it, fell in love, BOOM absolutely locked in for an idea :)) (before y'all start telling me it's normally 5+1 I KNOW shhhhhhh i prioritize quality over quantity)

contains: the 4 is mostly fluff but a lil bit of spice, the +1 is straight up smut tho, smut warnings: making out, sub lando, miami gp win, congratulatory sex, L bombs, lowkey a shitty ending bc i don't know how to write endings LOL, just two boys being really in love :)

find the original art post that inspired this here!

taglist: @vivi-81 @irishmanwhore @lucycowr @benstormy @anat33-blog1 @Xoscar03 @tremendousstarlighttragedy @nenamalenaa @champagneproblems17 @marknolee @toby33b @theendofthematerialgworl @soloqualcosa @sassyinchident808

join my taglist here!

i: the establishing kiss.

contrary to popular belief, oscar's love language is physical touch. he doesn't let it show all that much, but when he feels safe with someone, he doesn't stop showing it.

take lando, for example.

the first time he kisses lando, they're in japan in 2023. the brit is initially confused and a little bit shocked, taken aback by the sudden change in oscar's demeanor, but quickly learns to reciprocate.

lando had been endlessly yapping about something or other, oscar hadn't really been paying attention, but when his engineer poked his head in to summon oscar for a quick check in about potential tyre strategies, oscar stood, pressed a kiss to lando's cheek, and was about to walk out of the room before he heard his teammate short circuit.

"shit, sorry. it was an automatic reflex. is it... was that okay?" oscar had backpedaled, completely ignorant to the flush that immediately flooded lando's summer-tanned skin.

"y- yeah, it's fine, i just... wasn't expecting it."

oscar takes that as permission to continue the goodbye kisses.

ii: on the forehead.

the second time, lando is clinging to oscar's arm in his sleep, the left side of his body plastered to oscar's right and his head resting on oscar's shoulder. they're heading back to the MTC on the team jet after qatar, and frankly, oscar understands lando's exhaustion. the heat that weekend was entirely unbearable to the point where multiple teams, including mclaren, were genuinely concerned for their drivers' and pit crews' safety, and most, if not all, of the drivers had reported feeling unwell in their cars. the fact that he and lando had somehow managed to scrape a double podium together despite the brutal conditions was astounding.

lando shifts a bit in his sleep, the crown of his head resting in the nook between oscar's jaw and his shoulder, and a protective impulse hits oscar like a freight train. he tilts his head just so, pressing his lips to lando's forehead gently enough so that he doesn't wake, instead sighing delicately in oscar's arms and shifting impossibly closer.

oscar lays his head on top of lando's and passes out within minutes, the comforting weight of lando's body on his lulling him into the deepest sleep he's gotten in weeks.

iii: on the cheek.

the next kiss occurs inside the MTC, and this time, it's lando's lips on oscar's skin.

immediately after being released from the team debrief meeting that stretches on, in lando's entirely correct opinion, for an unnecessarily long amount of time, he all but throws himself into oscar's arms, and oscar gladly accepts, wrapping his own arms around lando's waist and burying his face into the soft fabric of lando's hoodie. thankfully, lando had quickly caught on to the fact that reciprocating oscar's physical touch is not only acceptable but also welcomed and encouraged, so he'd begun initiating hugs and slotting himself underneath oscar's arm more frequently in the past weeks.

"hello to you, too," oscar murmurs into lando's hoodie, taking comfort in the feeling of lando's arms around his body.

"'m so happy you're okay," lando mumbles, his face tucked into the crook of oscar's neck between his jaw and his shoulder. "you... you are okay, right?" he pulls back briefly, looking up at oscar with concerned eyes that search oscar's own, scanning for any signs of discomfort or pain but finding none.

"i'm okay. are you?" lando's eyes slip shut with a nod, the most delicate of smiles tugging at his lips.

"yeah, i'm good."

"good." lando pulls back, much to oscar's disappointment, the stale, conditioned air of the conference room replacing the comforting warmth of lando's body almost immediately. sensing that the hug is now over, oscar lets his hands drop, settling awkwardly at his sides.

fuck it, oscar thinks. "you wanna get dinner?"

lando sighs, scrubbing a hand down his face. "i don't know, mate, i'm pretty beat. breakfast tomorrow?"

had lando not been focused on noticing how scuffed his trainers are, he would've seen the way oscar's lips fell into his signature pout. instead, he hears a quiet "oh, okay," before looking back up and smiling faintly. "i'll text you?"

oscar sounds like a kicked puppy.

"oh, come here, you muppet." lando's left arm wraps around oscar's shoulders and his right hand holds oscar's chin, his lips on oscar's cheek, and... yeah. that's exactly what oscar needed. "where do you wanna get dinner?"

iv: on the neck.

it's early february, and they're finally back in woking to film some teaser content before pre-season tests in bahrain.

"mm, i missed you," lando says, tilting his head back as oscar mouths at his neck, and oscar hums in response. of course, oscar takes that opportunity to graze his teeth across the delicate skin of lando's neck, which, in turn, makes lando whine.

when oscar pulls back to catch his breath, his mouth goes dry, a stark contrast to the spit-shiny side of lando's neck. the fact that the buttons of his team kit polo are all completely undone and the collar is shoved to the side only adds to it, but his disheveled curls and flushed face really tie it all together with a pretty bow made of the finest ribbon oscar could ever imagine. "fuck, you look beautiful."

"osc," lando whines, and the look in his eyes can only be described as downright pathetic. his eyes are glassy, his lips parted and red from how furiously oscar had kissed them just minutes before, and his chest heaves with the panting breaths he's taking. it's only then that oscar notices- lando's hard.

+i: on the lips.

oscar hasn't really fully processed it yet. lando just got his maiden formula 1 win. he heard it on the radio, the replay of lando's overwhelmed cheers, screaming to his engineer that they did it, they finally did it.

it's only when his lips find lando's long after the podium ceremony, the lingering taste of champagne, sweat, and tears filtering itself onto his tongue, that he realizes just how real it is, and he can't even find it in himself to be mad that he wasn't in the points. "'m so proud of you," oscar says between kisses. "so fucking proud of you." the soft duvet of the hotel room bed wrinkle as lando squirms in an attempt to release some of the pent-up energy from all the adrenaline coursing through his body.

"fuck, osc..." lando's brain short circuits when he feels oscar's hands reach underneath his shirt, calloused fingertips on sensitive skin. "thank you." lando keeps smiling stupidly into the kisses oscar's pressing to his lips, hands scrabbling to grasp at whatever they can. oscar feels like every single sense in his body is heightened, and he's noticing every single detail about every single kiss he feels. the scent of champagne and sweat and lando's skin, the taste of something so distinctly lando that oscar doesn't think he'll ever be able to describe in words, and, above all, the feeling of lando's skin on his. desperate hands grabbing everywhere on oscar's body they can reach, the toned muscle of his abdomen beneath oscar's palms, lando's legs tight around his waist, bringing oscar impossibly closer to the tender skin on the inside of his thighs-

fuck.

he's hard.

"oscar," lando whines, pulling away ever so slightly to catch his breath. "fuck me."

what?

what the fuck?

oscar swears he's hearing things. the roar of engines, wheel guns, and fans' screams have finally gotten to him and he's suffering from either hallucinations or straight up hearing loss.

"what?"

"fuck me, please. there's lube and condoms in the bottom of my suitcase." and... fuck. stronger men have been defeated by less, so there's no way in hell oscar will be able to resist that, especially with how desperate lando sounds.

"where you hoping this would happen?" oscar stands, immediately mourning the loss of lando's body heat, but hastily rummages through the suitcase placed at the foot of the bed, easily locating the bottle of lube and a condom from the bottom of lando's suitcase, exactly where he said they'd be. he doesn't miss the way lando's cheeks flush even more as he nods, hands desperately fumbling to get his shirt off, just to have something to do with them. oscar grins and clicks his tongue, dropping the lube and condom next to lando's hip. "let's get these jeans off, yeah?"

"please." lando's hands fly to his pants, popping the button open and shoving the fly down before shimmying his legs out of the denim. a shuddering sigh pushes past his lips at the release of pressure, and oscar shoves his own jeans down, kicking his and lando's pants off of the bed. there's a faint dark spot on the front of lando's boxers, his erection tenting the fabric, and oscar's sure he looks no different.

"are you sure about this?" there's a nagging in the back of oscar's mind, telling him it's all the adrenaline from lando's maiden win, that this isn't actually what lando wants, that he's going to regret it in the morning... the tone of oscar's voice brings lando out of his haze, clarity returning to the race winner's eyes alongside something else that oscar can't currently pinpoint at the moment.

"do you want to do this?" that's what it is. concern. lando's voice is clear, lacking any of the previous whiny twinge it'd held just moments prior, and his hands come up to gently hold the side of oscar's neck, his fingertips brushing the short bits of oscar's hair. "if you don't want to do this, we can go out and get drunk and forget this ever happened." his eyes search oscar's, his multicolored irises inspecting for any sign of discomfort, hesitation, or uneasiness.

leaving is the last thing oscar wants to do. he knows that much.

with a deep, steadying breath and a shift of his hips- oh, fuck, that was a mistake, because now his clothed dick is laying in the juncture of lando's hip and thigh, and, instead of the thought-out words he was going to say, the only thing that spills past his lips is a moan and a breathy "stay" on the tail end of it. the muscles in his arms give out and he collapses on top of lando, his face tucked into the crook of lando's neck, and when he inhales, lando's fingers already raking soothing rows along his scalp, he smells champagne, sweat, and lando's body wash.

"stay."

"okay, osc. i can do that."

oscar isn't sure how long they lay there, lando's left hand resting in the small of oscar's back and his right rubbing soothing lines into oscar's scalp, but by the time his heart rate slows and his brain stops running a mile a minute, the desperation and speed that he was ready to fuck lando with has sunk out of his body. there's only one problem- well, rather, two problems, but one stems from the other. one: oscar and lando are both still hard. two: neither of them have the energy required for prep, sex, and aftercare.

lando is able to solve both of those problems, though.

"osc?"

"hm?"

"do you want me to get you off?" oscar's face flushes, a whine falling from his lips in embarrassment, but he nods into lando's neck. "yeah?" oscar nods again. "okay, baby. i'm gonna need you to get these off for me, though." he thumbs at the elastic waistband of oscar's boxers, and oscar is barely able to muster enough strength to push himself up and off of lando's chest to pull his boxers off and toss them aside before falling back onto lando. "can you roll over for me, baby?" okay, scratch that. now he summons the last of his strength to roll off of lando, wincing slightly when the long-forgotten bottle of lube and condom dig into his ribs.

"hey." lando's voice has a tenderness to it that oscar's never heard before, used to the constant energy and bubbly laughs, and it makes something stir deep in oscar's chest. before he can prod into it and try to figure out what it might be, though, lando's rolling over and slotting his left leg between oscar's, leaning down, and kissing oscar with a certain softness that leaves every point of contact with lando's body fizzling with electricity. it's a unique and beautifully intimate moment, chests pressed together and bodies touching everywhere they possibly can as hands grasp for places to hold the other closer.

oscar moans into the kiss, high and pathetic, when lando takes both of their cocks into his hand, and even dry, he thinks he could cum just like that.

"oh, fuck, lando-" oscar's eyes are screwed shut, panting as lando continues licking into his mouth, running his tongue along oscar's lips before dipping down to oscar's neck, mimicking the same actions there. lando can't form a verbal response, so he simply hums relishing in the taste of oscar's skin. the aussie doesn't want to admit just how keyed up he is, doesn't want to admit the fact that, with a little bit of lube and a little bit of movement, he'd be cumming onto lando's hand.

thankfully, though, lando seems to be in the same boat, and he makes that very well known with a perfectly timed gentle thrust of his hips forward and a slight loosening of his hand, and the sound that it pulls from oscar's throat can only be described as unholy. "osc..."

"like this, lando, please."

"fuck, me too." oscar jumps slightly when the cold lube hits his cock, but with the slide it adds and the grip around lando's big hand has around them both and the fact that he's completely caged in and every single sense is flooded with lando, lando, lando, the temperature difference is rapidly forgotten in favor of white-hot pleasure. he can't stop himself- his hips are canting up into lando's hand, and it just feels so, so good. oscar's ears aren't processing the difference between his moans and lando's, so all he knows is that there's sounds of sex filling the hotel room, the wet slide of his cock along lando's, and it's so much at once.

when lando's hips start moving, too, fucking into his own fist, oscar throws his head back into the fluffy pillow and groans so loud that he gets a flickering sense of sympathy for whatever neighbors may share a wall with this hotel room, but it's immediately wiped from his brain as lando's lips meet his once more.

oscar isn't sure how much time passes, his lips and tongue gliding along lando's and their hips fucking into lando's hand, but his ears finally process that lando's moaning his name, desperately mouthing at his neck. "oscar, aah, fuck, i'm gonna cum, please, 'm gonna cum-" and, well. oscar didn't think he had a thing for begging, much less a thing for his teammate begging, yet here he is.

"yeah. yeah, go for it. cum for me, baby." before oscar finishes talking, his words breathy and faint, lando's cumming with a cry, his hips shuddering as his cum paints his hand and oscar's cock and stomach in a pearly white. oscar looks down, and the sight he's met with is absolutely filthy. past the mop of lando's curly hair and sweat-shiny skin, he sees the way lando's muscles tense with every thrust and the way his dick is painted white with cum and lube.

"fuck, fuck, fuck, osc, love you, love you so much." and that's what sends him over the edge, muscles in his torso tensing as he grasps desperately at lando's shoulders.

"aah, lan- love you. love you."

Honestly no one talks about how feminism truly rocks because you're telling me THIS MAN existed, IN VARIOUS TIMELINES AND TIMEZONES. And the only person who jumped his bones was Wade Wilson? A MAN. NOT A WOMAN. A MAN. This is all a sick agenda we're willingly going with. (poolverine agenda) not complaining tho. definition of: true feminism is sucking your husband's tits

HE'S NEVER LIVING IT DOWN AHASAAHSAHH

"new baby earlier this week, and when it comes to qualifying in miami, HE'S PROVED THAT HE'S THE DADDY ONCE AGAIN" 😭😭😭

THIS IS THE CUTEST THING I HAVE READ AND I WILL SOB

misunderstood hero with a heart of gold - mv1

summary: max verstappen has never been one to read books, but everything changes when he comes across a pretty booktuber who describes him better than anyone else did before

word count: 8.2k + social media posts

folkie radio: another one of my babies finally sees the light of day 🥹 this fic is really special and i was lowkey gatekeeping it but i feel ready to share it, plss take care of it <3 i hope you like it

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

Max Verstappen was bored.

It was late and he was alone in his hotel room. He had a race the following day and he knew better than staying up late. His team was already on his ass for sim racing at ungodly hours of the night when he had a race, but nevertheless, he was bored and not sleepy yet.

He scrolled through his phone, not really paying attention to what popped up on his Instagram feed, Tiktok for you page or Twitter timeline.

After a few minutes, his finger landed on the YouTube app, one that he barely used if he was completely honest, but for some reason he never deleted it.

A bunch of videos showed up on his main page, most of them about F1, gaming, fitness or cats. He scrolled through the thumbnails absentmindedly until one title caught his eye: "Formula 1 Drivers as Romance Book Character Tropes."

Max had no idea how that video ended up in his suggestions page. He wasn't much of a reader—he had only read two books in his entire life, for crying out loud— but curiosity got the better of him. He clicked on the video.

The screen shifted to a bright and lively setup, where a young woman with vibrant energy and a contagious smile greeted her viewers. "Hey everyone! Welcome back to my channel. Today, we have a fun video where I'll be pairing Formula 1 drivers with romance book tropes!"

Max found himself smiling for some reason, he thought she was really engaging and funny — and really pretty—. He leaned back against his pillows, more intrigued by the second.

"As some of you might already know, books are not my only passion, I'm also a huge Formula 1 fan since I was a little kid thanks to my dad, so I thought it would be fun to do a little crossover of my two obsessions."

Max grinned again, finding himself oddly invested in this unexpected combination of romance literature and Formula 1. Or maybe just mesmerized by the pretty girl who was talking on his screen.

"Let's begin with Mercedes," she said, clapping her hands together, "Lewis Hamilton is definitely our 'Charming Prince Charming.' He's got the looks, the talent, and that air of royalty about him."

Max chuckled, thinking it was a fitting description for his rival.

"Now for George Russell," she continued, "I'm going with 'The Boy Next Door Who Grew Up Hot.' I mean, have you seen his glow-up?"

Max chuckled again, nodding in agreement. George had indeed transformed quite a bit since his Williams days.

"Moving on to Ferrari," she continued enthusiastically. Max wondered if that was her favorite team on the grid, "Charles Leclerc is our classic 'Childhood Best Friend You've Always Had a Crush On.' He's got that sweet, familiar charm, but with a spark that makes your heart race every time you see him."

Max raised an eyebrow, surprised by the change in description. He had to admit, it fit Charles quite well.

"And for Carlos Sainz," she paused dramatically, "he's either our 'Older Brother's Best Friend' or the 'Bad Guy Who's Mean to Everyone but His Sweetheart', just think about it, he's got that rugged exterior, but you just know he's a total sweetheart deep down."

Max laughed, realizing she had Carlos pegged perfectly. He watched with growing interest as she continued.

"Now, let's talk about McLaren," she said with a sparkle in her eye. "Lando Norris is our 'Adorkable Comedian Who Steals Your Heart.' He's funny, relatable, and has a way of making you fall for him before you even realize it," Max grinned at the description of his good friend, "And Oscar Piastri... he's 'The Shy Genius.' Quiet, reserved, but incredibly talented and intelligent. He might not be the loudest in the room, but he's someone you'd definitely want on your side."

Max nodded in agreement, thinking of how Oscar had impressed everyone since joining McLaren. She continued pairing each driver with a character trope, she described Daniel as the "Life of the Party with a Sensitive Soul," highlighting his infectious energy and hidden depths. Pierre was dubbed the "Resilient Underdog," emphasizing his ability to bounce back from setbacks. Yuki was described as the "Fiery Spitfire with a Soft Center" and Logan was labeled the "Rookie with Untapped Potential," suggesting a character arc of growth and discovery.

With each driver's description, Max's anticipation grew. He found himself eagerly awaiting his own characterization, both curious and slightly apprehensive about how the pretty girl with an obsession with books and Formula 1 would describe him.

When she finally got to Red Bull, he sat up a little straighter, his interest piqued.

"Now for Sergio Perez," she said, "he's our 'Loyal Wingman Who Deserves His Own Happy Ending.' Always there to support, but with a story of his own waiting to be told."

Max nodded, thinking it was a pretty accurate description of his teammate.

"And finally, saved the best for last," she said, her eyes twinkling, "we have Max Verstappen."

Max held his breath, oddly nervous about how this stranger would categorize him.

"Max is our 'Misunderstood Hero with a Heart of Gold,'" she said with a warm smile. "Often perceived as cold or distant, but actually deeply caring and protective of those close to him. He's the type who shows his love through actions rather than words."

Max felt his cheeks warm significantly. This description caught him completely off guard. It wasn't the usual 'aggressive driver' or 'arrogant champion' narrative he was used to hearing. Instead, it felt... true. Uncomfortably true. He wasn't sure how to feel about being seen so accurately by a stranger.

As the video ended after she said her goodbyes, Max found himself staring at his phone screen, replaying her words in his mind, his thumb hovering over the comment section. He had never left a comment on a YouTube video before, but something about this one compelled him to break that habit.

After a moment's hesitation, he tapped the comment box and began typing, Once he was done, he paused, reading over his words. It felt strange, almost vulnerable, to acknowledge her characterization of him. But there was also something liberating about it. He added a thumbs-up emoji at the end and hit 'Post' before he could second-guess himself.

As Max set his phone down and settled into bed, a small smile played on his lips. He had a important race the following day, but all he wanted to think and dream about was the pretty stranger who had somehow seen through his carefully crafted public persona.

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liked by username1, username2 and 10,725 others

f1gossip “I went to bed early last night. Just listened to the team’s orders, you know?”

Max Verstappen for media day today, however he left a comment on a YouTube video around 2:46 am 😭

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username1 HES SOOOOO

username2 the fact that he left a comment on a BOOKTUBER’S channel MAX VERSTAPPEN YOU DONT EVEN READ BOOKS 😭

username3 he looks so pretty tho

username4 MAX WE ALL SAW YOU

username5 max was actually checking which romance trope is him according to booktubers

username6 HES SO RANDOM

username7 max’s search history: lestappen as fictional couples

liked by username1, username2 and 102,438 others

ynreadsbooks in honor of max verstappen x3 world champion commenting on my latest video (which is insane to say out loud wtf) should i do another f1 themed video?? any suggestions?

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username1 YES QUEEN

username2 that max comment was so random but so real

username3 max verstappen, the man who has read two books in 27 years watching booktubers was not on my bingo card

username4 @/maxverstappen1 you favorite youtuber will do another video about you

username5 BOOKS WITH RACING THEMES

username6 books inspired by f1 circuits would be fun

username7 @/maxverstappen drop a suggestion

maxverstappen1 started following ynreadsbooks

liked by username1, username2 and 15,836 others

f1gossip Max Verstappen was seen outside of a bookshop in Monaco today !

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username1 BABYYYY

username2 max ??? bookshop ????

username3 WHAT SHIFTED

username4 he thought it was jimmyz

username5 HEELPP what is he doing there

username6 hello i work there. he arrived with a list of books in hand that he wanted, he bought around 15 action and fantasy books

↳ username1 FOR REAL???

↳ username2 max said book girl summer

↳ username3 this is so random

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If someone had told Max that this year he would spend his summer break reading, he would've laughed at their faces. Yet here he was, lounging by the pool in his Monaco house, a book in his hands and a smile on his face.

As he turned the page of "The Martian," the latest sci-fi recommendation from YN, Max couldn't help but reflect on how different this summer break was.

Usually, his days off were filled with lavish yacht parties, exclusive clubs, or intense training sessions and hours of sim racing to stay sharp for the second half of the season. But now, he found himself eagerly devouring books and spending hours chatting with YN about plots, characters, and everything in between.

As the weeks passed, Max found himself growing increasingly close to YN, despite never having met her in person. Their text conversations flowed effortlessly, ranging from in-depth discussions about the books they were reading to playful banter about racing and life in general.

Max was surprised by how much he enjoyed her company, even in this digital form. Her wit, intelligence, and genuine interest in his thoughts beyond his racing persona were refreshing. He found himself sharing things he rarely discussed with others, and looking forward to her messages became a highlight of his day.

He also thought she was absolutely gorgeous.

As if on cue, his phone buzzed with a new message from her.

Max chuckled, about to reply when he heard the doorbell. He remembered Lando and Daniel were coming over for dinner. As he got up to let them in, he quickly typed a response, telling her that he would talk to her later.

"Well, well, well," Daniel's voice boomed as Max opened the door. "If it isn't the newly minted bookworm of Formula 1!"

Lando peered around Daniel's shoulder, "I half expected to find you wearing glasses and a sweater vest, mate."

"Very funny, guys. Come in," Max rolled his eyes as he stepped away from the door.

Ever since his friends noticed his brand new habit, they took it upon themselves to tease him whenever they could. As they made their way to the backyard, Daniel spotted the book on the lounger.

"The Martian?" he read, picking it up. "Isn't this a bit advanced for your reading level, Maxy?"

"Ha ha," Max deadpanned, snatching the book back. "It's actually really good. It's about this astronaut who gets stranded on Mars and has to use science and engineering to survive-"

"Whoa, whoa," Lando interrupted, holding up his hands. "Who are you and what have you done with Max Verstappen?"

Daniel draped an arm around Max's shoulders. "I think our boy here is trying to impress a certain bookish YouTuber. What was her name again? YN?"

Max felt his cheeks warm. "It's not like that. We just... talk about books and stuff."

"And stuff," Daniel repeated, wiggling his eyebrows. "Is that what the kids are calling it these days?"

Max rolled his eyes, trying to brush off their teasing. "Seriously, it's not like that. We just have a lot in common."

Daniel and Lando exchanged knowing glances before bursting into laughter.

"Sure, mate," Daniel said, patting Max on the back. "Whatever you say."

They settled by the pool, beers in hand, and started chatting about the upcoming races and their plans for the rest of the summer. Despite the playful ribbing, Max found himself genuinely enjoying their company. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed his friends.

As the evening wore on, the conversation eventually circled back to Max's books and his little friend on his phone.

"So, Max," Lando started, a mischievous glint in his eye, "have you color-coded your bookshelf yet? Or are you more of a chronological order kind of guy?"

"Nah, mate. I bet he organizes them by how many times YN has mentioned them," Daniel chimed in, "Top shelf is probably her favorites, right Maxy?"

Max felt his cheeks flush, but he couldn't help grinning. "You two are impossible."

"When are you finally going to meet her in person anyway?" Lando said, sipping from his beer.

Max shrugged nonchalantly, trying to hide the slight flutter in his chest. "I don't know. That's not something I've really thought about,"

He lied. In truth, the thought of meeting YN had crossed his mind countless times. The idea of finally seeing the girl who had captivated him with her intelligence, humor, and beauty made his heart race. He'd catch himself daydreaming about her smile, wondering if it was as warm and infectious in person as it seemed in her videos. But he wasn't ready to admit that to his friends just yet.

Lando and Daniel exchanged a look, clearly not buying Max's nonchalant act.

"Oh come on," Lando scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically. "You expect us to believe that? You've been glued to your phone for weeks, mate."

"I bet he's already planned their first date," Daniel leaned in, "What'll it be, Max? A romantic book reading by candlelight? Or maybe a visit to the library?"

Max felt his cheeks heating up again. "It's not like that, guys. We're just friends."

"Friends who talk every day and have you blushing like a schoolgirl," Lando teased, nudging Max with his elbow.

"I do not blush like a schoolgirl," Max protested, knowing full well that his face was probably bright red by now.

"Sure, sure," Daniel said with a wink. "Just friends. So, have you at least thought about inviting her to a race? You know, show her what you do when you're not reading about Mars?"

"Why would I invite her to a race, that would be weird," Max protested again, "And she already knows what I do, she's a fan of the sport."

"Man, you're so stubborn sometimes," Lando rolled his eyes at him, "If you like this girl, why don't you invite her to a race? It could be a great way to finally meet in person."

"And who said that I liked her," once again, Max's defensive self came through.

Daniel and Lando shared an exasperated look before turning back to Max.

"Come on, mate," Daniel said, his tone gentler now. "It's pretty obvious. We've never seen you this invested in someone before. Not to mention, you're reading books voluntarily for the first time since... well, ever."

"It's written all over your face," Lando said, shaking his head. "You like her, and there's no shame in that. You light up every time your phone buzzes. It's kind of adorable, actually."

Max sighed, running a hand through his hair. He knew his friends were right, but admitting it out loud felt like a big step. "Okay, fine. Maybe I do like her. But it's complicated, you know? We've never even met in person."

"That's exactly why you should invite her to a race," Lando insisted. "It's the perfect opportunity. She gets to see you in your element, and you get to finally meet face-to-face."

"Plus," Daniel added with a mischievous grin, "if things go well, you can always show her your trophy collection. I hear that's a great way to impress the ladies."

Max couldn't help but laugh at that. "You're ridiculous, you know that?"

"Maybe," Daniel shrugged, "but I'm also right. What have you got to lose?"

Max pondered this for a moment. The idea of meeting YN in person both thrilled and terrified him. What if they didn't click in real life the way they did over text? But then again, what if they did?

"I'll think about it," Max finally conceded.

Lando and Daniel exchanged triumphant grins.

"That's our boy," Lando said, patting his back.

After a few more beers and food, Lando and Daniel left.

As the night deepened, Max found himself lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. The conversation with Lando and Daniel kept replaying in his mind. His phone sat on the nightstand, silent but somehow still demanding his attention.

Max's thoughts raced. Should he text YN? Invite her to Zandvoort? The idea made his heart beat faster. He imagined seeing her in person for the first time, wondering if her smile would be as pretty as it was in her videos. But doubt crept in too. What if things were awkward? What if the chemistry they had online didn't translate to real life?

He rolled onto his side, eyeing his phone. The urge to reach out to her was strong, as it always was. Max realized that Lando and Daniel were right - he did like her. A lot. The thought of meeting her filled him with equal parts excitement and nervousness.

Taking a deep breath, Max grabbed his phone. Before he could overthink it, he started typing.

Hey YN, hope I'm not messaging too late. I was wondering if you'd like to come to the Dutch GP at Zandvoort? It's the first race after the summer break, and my home race. Thought it might be fun if you could make it.

He hit send before he could second-guess himself. The wait for her response felt eternal. When his phone finally buzzed, Max's heart leapt.

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username1 GIRL

username2 ARE YOU GOING WHERE I THINK YOU’RE GOING

username3 f1 x books this is literally me

username4 hot girls support max verstappen

username5 ahh if she’s going to the gp i’ll be so happy bc she’s a huge fan

username6 the way roles reversed and now max is his fan 😭

redbullracing We can’t wait 💙

↳ username1 REDBULL???

↳ username2 AHHH THEY PROBABLY INVITED HER

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As Max headed to Zandvoort Circuit for the Dutch Grand Prix, he felt the familiar weight of expectations settling on his shoulders.

The second half of the season loomed ahead, and the pressure to maintain his championship lead was on. He knew the team was counting on him to deliver strong results, especially at his home race where the orange-clad fans would be out in full force.

But amidst the pressure and responsibility, there was another emotion bubbling up inside him - a giddy excitement that he couldn't quite contain.

The thought of finally meeting YN in person after months of texts, calls, and shared book recommendations made his heart race in a way that had nothing to do with driving at a car at a very fast speed.

As he drove to the track, Max found himself smiling at random moments, his mind drifting to imagine what it would be like to see her smile in person, to hear her laugh without the filter of a phone call.

Max realized that for the first time in a long while, he was looking forward to a race weekend for reasons that extended beyond the track.

Unfortunately, his busy schedule kept them from meeting right away. Media commitments, team briefings, and practice sessions consumed his time, leaving him feeling frustrated and guilty for not being able to see her sooner. He sent her a quick message apologizing for the delay, promising they'd meet after qualifying.

As he made his way to the garage, a familiar voice called out behind him.

"Oi, Max! Ready for the big day?"

Max turned to see Daniel jogging up to him, his trademark grin in place.

"Yeah, should be a good quali," Max replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

Daniel raised an eyebrow. "I wasn't talking about qualifying, mate. Your special guest arrives today, right?"

Max felt his cheeks warm. "How did you even remember that?"

"Please," Daniel scoffed. "It's all you've been talking about for weeks. So, have you met her yet?"

"No, my schedule's been packed. We're supposed to meet after quali."

"Ah, saving the best for last, eh?" Daniel's grin widened, "Smart move. Nothing like the adrenaline of a good qualifying session to make a great first impression."

"Or to completely mess it up," Max muttered.

"Hey, none of that," Daniel clapped him on the shoulder. "You'll be fine. Just be yourself. She already likes you for who you are, remember?"

Max nodded, feeling a bit reassured. "Thanks, Dan."

With a deep breath, Max headed into the garage, Daniel's words echoing in his mind.

Qualifying went smoothly, with Max securing a front row start to the delight of the Dutch fans. The cheers of the home crowd were deafening as he climbed out of the car, but his mind was elsewhere.

After the post-qualifying interviews, Max sent YN a quick text letting her know that he was free now and she let him know that she was around the hospitality area.

As he walked towards there, Max spotted YN standing near one of the motorhomes, looking around with wide eyes. She hadn't seen him yet, and for a moment, Max just watched her, taking in the sight of the girl who had been on his mind for months now.

She was even more gorgeous in person than he had imagined.

Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she took in the bustling paddock around her. The way the sunlight caught her hair, the gentle curve of her smile as she observed everything with wonder - it all took Max's breath away.

He noticed little details he couldn't have seen through a screen: the way her eyes sparkled, the subtle freckles across her nose, the graceful way she moved as she looked around.

Taking a deep breath, Max walked over, his heart pounding. "YN?"

She turned, her face lighting up with a radiant smile that made Max's breath catch. "Max! Finally!"

They moved toward each other, and without hesitation, Max pulled her into a hug. The embrace felt natural, as if they'd done this a hundred times before. He was aware of how perfectly she fit in his arms, the subtle scent of her perfume, and the warmth of her body against his.

"It's so good to finally meet you," he murmured into her hair. "I'm so sorry it took so long, this weekend's been crazy."

She pulled back slightly, looking up at him with understanding in her eyes. "It's okay, Max. That qualifying was amazing! I've never experienced anything like it."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it. Come on, let me show you around."

He took her hand and he was struck by how natural it felt. Her fingers intertwined with his perfectly, and a warm sensation spread from their joined hands throughout his body.

They strolled through the paddock, Max pointing out the various team motorhomes, the garages, and the media center. YN was all wide-eyed fascination, asking questions and soaking in every detail. As they walked, Max found himself relaxing more and more, his previous nerves about their chemistry being gone fading away.

As they rounded a corner, they nearly bumped into Lando Norris. Who couldn't help but smirk at the sight of their hands intertwined.

"You guys met already!" he cheerfully said, "You must be YN."

Her cheeks flushed, clearly surprised that Max had mentioned her to his friends. Max felt a warmth spread through his chest at her reaction.

"Yeah, this is YN," Max said, unable to keep the smile off his face, "Meet Lando, the perpetual pain in my ass."

"Nice to finally meet the girl who's got Max reading," YN laughed, and Lando extended his hand, "Quite the accomplishment."

"Nice to meet you too, Lando," YN said, shaking his hand. "I've enjoyed watching you race, I'm a big fan. Congrats on the pole position."

"Cheers," Lando replied, then turned to Max with a mischievous glint in his eye. "So, has he bored you with car talk yet, or has he actually remembered how to discuss books?"

Max rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Shouldn't you be preparing for tomorrow, Lando?"

"Alright, alright, I can take a hint," Lando chuckled. "Enjoy your tour, lovebirds!"

As Lando walked away, Max felt a mix of embarrassment and pleasure. He glanced at YN, relieved to see her smiling.

"Sorry about him," Max said, shaking his head with a chuckle. "Lando has a way of making everything awkward."

YN laughed softly, her eyes twinkling. "It's fine. He seems like fun."

They continued their walk, finally making their way to the rooftop terrace of the Red Bull hospitality area. The view was stunning, offering a panoramic look at the circuit and the sea of orange-clad fans below.

"This is incredible," YN said, leaning against the railing and taking it all in. "Thank you for showing me around, Max."

"Of course," Max said, standing beside her. "I'm really glad you could come."

They stood there for a moment, enjoying the view and each other's company. Max felt a sense of contentment wash over him, the stress of the weekend melting away in her presence.

"Max," YN said softly, turning to face him. "I know this weekend is important for you, and I don't want to be a distraction. But I'm really happy to be here and to finally meet you."

"You're not a distraction," Max replied, reaching out to take her hand again. "You're the best part of this weekend, honestly."

They shared a smile, Max was well aware of the butterflies that fluttered on his stomach and the high school girl blush his friends teased him about, but he didn't care. He felt happy with the pretty girl who had been his source of comfort for months, finally face to face.

"You know," YN said softly, "when I made that video calling you a misunderstood hero with a heart of gold, I never imagined I'd get to see it firsthand. But being here, seeing how you are with your team, with the fans… I was right about you, Max Verstappen."

Max felt a warmth spread through his chest at her words. He had always been guarded about his public image, but hearing her perspective meant more than he could ever imagine.

"I'm glad you think so," he said softly, his voice filled with sincerity. "You know, that video... it changed things for me. Not just because it led to us talking, but because it made me reflect on a lot of things."

"Who would've thought," YN said with a smile, "When I recorded that video, I never thought you would ever see it, let alone have an impact on you and let alone lead us to talking and me being here."

"Everything happens for a reason, right?"

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ynreadsbooks best experience ever. thank you, thank you, THANK YOU 🥺💙

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username1 OMFGGGG

username2 no one deserved this more than her for real

username3 SHE MET MAX TOO?? DESERVED

redbullracing Come back soon! 😉

username4 red bull finally inviting people who actually love the sport

username5 GIRL WE NEED A VLOGGGG

username6 omg how did this happen spiiiill

↳ ynreadsbooks let's say i got invited by the world champion

↳ username1 WTF

↳ username2 so MAX invited her not redbull help he really did become a fan after that video

danielricciardo Hope to see you around soon, love ! 👀

↳ username3 how do i sign up for this

username7 THAT PIC OF MAX IS SO BOYFRIEND CODED

maxversteppen1 Thank you so much for coming and making this day special ☺️

↳ username1 OMG MAX

↳ username2 i'd be screaming if i was her

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maxverstappen1 Enjoyed every moment in Zandvoort with this amazing atmosphere and the best company 🧡

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username1 KIIING

username2 how can a man be so babygirl

username3 all smiles even tho he finished p2

danielricciardo 🦁🦁

landonorris Simply lovely

↳ username1 menace

username4 bro who got you smiling like that

ynreadsbooks ❤️

↳ username2 biggest max girlie

↳ username3 WE NEED THAT VLOG

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When it came time for YN to leave the Netherlands, Max insisted on driving her to the airport himself. The car ride was filled with comfortable silence and soft conversation, both of them trying to stretch out their remaining time together.

Despite their short time together, Max found himself completely smitten, captivated by YN's intelligence, humor, and the way her eyes lit up when she talked about books or reacted to the thrill of the race.

He didn't want to admit it to himself, but he was head over heels for her.

As they stood in the departure terminal, Max felt an overwhelming urge to kiss her. He hesitated, his heart racing, but ultimately settled for a long, warm hug, breathing in her scent and committing it to memory. As he watched her walk through security, he already found himself missing her presence.

Now, a week later, Max was in Monza for the Italian Grand Prix. The day had been busy with media commitments and team meetings. Finally back in the quiet of his motorhome, Max flopped onto the couch, feeling drained but content. Without thinking, he reached for his phone and hit the FaceTime button next to YN's name.

Her smiling face appeared on the screen, and Max felt an immediate surge of warmth.

"Hey, you," she said, her voice soft and welcoming even through the phone's speakers.

"Hey," Max replied, unable to keep the grin off his face. "How's your day been?"

"Oh, you know, the usual. Editing videos, reading, missing the excitement of the paddock," YN teased. "How about you? Surviving the media circus?"

"Barely," Max groaned dramatically, "I swear, if I have to answer one more question about RedBull and their big mess, I might go mad."

YN laughed, the sound making Max's heart skip a beat. "Poor Max. Whatever shall we do to take your mind off your beloved team?"

"Well," Max said, shifting to get more comfortable, "I've been reading that new sci-fi book you recommended. 'The Martian-like Odyssey to Titan,' or whatever it's called."

"'Project Hail Mary,'" she corrected, "And? What do you think so far?"

"It's incredible!" Max's eyes lit up, "I mean, the science is fascinating, and the way the main character problem-solves is just... I don't know, it reminds me a bit of what we do in racing, you know? Constantly adapting, finding solutions on the fly."

"That's exactly why I thought you'd like it! The way Andy Weir writes about scientific problem-solving is so engaging."

They dove into an animated discussion about the book, Max marveling at how easily conversation flowed between them, how YN's passion for books was infectious. As they talked, a thought that had been brewing in Max's mind for days suddenly surfaced.

"YN," Max said, his voice softer than before. "There's actually something I've been wanting to ask you."

"Oh? What is it, Max?" she tilted her head, curiosity evident in her expression.

Max took a deep breath, suddenly feeling like he was about to qualify for a crucial race. "Well, I was wondering... have you ever been to Monaco?"

"No, actually, I haven't," YN's eyebrows raised in surprise, "It's always been on my travel wish list, though. Why do you ask?"

Max felt his heart rate pick up. He'd rehearsed this moment in his head countless times over the past few days, but now that it was here, he found himself fumbling for words.

"Well, you see, I have a two-week break coming up before the Baku GP, and I was thinking... maybe... if you're free, of course, and if you'd like to... you could come visit me in Monaco?"

The words tumbled out faster than he intended, and Max felt a blush creeping up his neck. He watched YN's face carefully, trying to gauge her reaction. His mind raced with possibilities - what if she said no? What if this was too forward?

YN's eyes widened, and for a moment, she seemed at a loss for words. "Oh, Max, that's... wow. That's really sweet of you to offer."

Max, sensing a hint of hesitation, quickly added, "You could stay at my place. I have plenty of room, and it would be great to have you around. Plus I have two adorable cats that I'm sure you'd love."

YN's expression softened, a mix of excitement and uncertainty in her eyes. "That sounds amazing, Max. But… are you sure? I wouldn't want to impose on your personal space or your time off."

Truth was, Max wanted to spent every free moment he had with her, but he wasn't sure how to let her know without sounding too forward or like a creep, so he just pressed on.

"You wouldn't be imposing at all, I promise. I really want us to spend more time together, away from the craziness of the race weekends. And I'd love to show you around Monaco."

He watched as YN bit her lip, considering his offer. The silence stretched for a moment, and Max found himself holding his breath.

"If you're not comfortable staying at my place," he added quickly, "I could book you a hotel room, or there are some great Airbnbs with amazing views of the harbor. Whatever makes you feel most at ease. I just… I really want to see you again."

As he spoke, Max realized just how true his words were. The thought of having YN in his space, sharing meals, exploring the city together - it filled him with a warmth he couldn't quite describe. It was more than just attraction; there was a comfort in her presence that he craved.

YN smiled, a warm look in her eyes. "You really mean that, don't you?"

"I do. Look, I know it might seem like a big ask, but I just... I can't stop thinking about how much fun we have together. And Monaco is beautiful this time of year. We could go for drives along the coast, have dinner at some amazing restaurants, or just relax by the pool if you prefer. No pressure, just... us. And well, the cats."

Max held his breath, waiting for her response. The thought of having YN in Monaco, of being able to spend uninterrupted time with her away from the pressures of the race weekend, made his heart soar. He imagined showing her his favorite spots in the city, maybe taking her out on his boat, or just lounging by the pool and talking for hours.

"Alright, Verstappen, you've convinced me. But I have one condition."

"Name it." Max grinned, relief and excitement washing over him.

"If I'm staying at your place, you have to let me cook my infamous waffles for breakfast. They're a secret family recipe, and I guarantee they'll be the best you've ever tasted."

"Deal," Max's smile widened, a burst of joy exploding in his chest. "But I warn you, I take my waffles very seriously. They better live up to the hype."

"Oh, they will. And I can't wait to meet the cats."

As they continued to chat and make plans for YN's visit, Max felt a warmth spreading through his chest. The prospect of having YN in his home, of waking up and knowing she was just in the next room, of being able to spend lazy mornings together over homemade waffles - it all seemed almost too good to be true.

He found himself imagining what it would be like to have her there. Would she curl up on his couch with a book? Would they watch the sunset from his terrace? Would he finally get the courage to kiss her?

The thought made his heart race. He remembered the moment at the airport when he had wanted so badly to kiss her goodbye. This time, he promised himself, he wouldn't let the opportunity pass by.

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The day of YN's arrival in Monaco had finally come, and Max felt like a giddy teenager preparing for his first date.

In the days leading up to YN's visit, Max had found himself unusually preoccupied with preparations. He wanted everything to be perfect for YN's stay. He'd bought new sheets for the guest bedroom, making sure they were the softest he could find. He'd stocked the fridge with an array of foods, unsure of her preferences but making sure to have options. He'd even gone so far as to buy a small collection of books he thought she might enjoy, arranging them carefully on the nightstand in her room.

The morning of her arrival, Max woke up early, his stomach a knot of excitement and nerves. He double-checked everything one last time - fresh towels in the bathroom, extra toiletries in case she forgot anything, a vase of fresh flowers on the kitchen counter to brighten up the space. He felt almost silly with how much effort he was putting in, but he couldn't help himself. He wanted everything to be perfect for the girl he was smitten with.

As the time to leave for the airport approached, Max found himself pacing, checking his watch every few minutes. He'd planned the route to the airport meticulously, factoring in potential traffic to make sure he'd be there in plenty of time. Just as he was about to grab his keys and head out, the doorbell rang.

Confused, Max paused. He wasn't expecting anyone - he'd made sure to clear his schedule completely for YN's visit. Frowning slightly, he opened the door to find Lando standing there, a wide grin on his face.

"Lando? What are you doing here?" Max asked, glancing at his watch.

"What, can't a mate drop by for a visit?" Lando replied, trying to peer past Max into the apartment. "Thought we could hang out, maybe play some FIFA."

Max shifted awkwardly, blocking the doorway. "Lando, mate, I'm actually just about to head out. I can't hang out right now."

"Oh, come on," Lando's grin faltered slightly, "Just for a bit? We haven't had a proper catch-up in ages."

"I'm sorry, I really can't," Max insisted, glancing at his watch nervously. "I have to pick up a friend from the airport."

Lando's eyes narrowed suspiciously, a mischievous glint appearing. "A friend, huh? Is it that your book dream girl? You're flying her out over here?"

Max felt his face heat up, a blush creeping up his neck. He tried to deny it, but his reaction gave him away.

"It is! Oh man, this is brilliant," Lando's eyes widened in delight, "Max Verstappen, blushing like a schoolboy over a girl."

"Shut up," Max grumbled, but there was no real annoyance in his voice. He couldn't help but smile.

"So, YN is finally gracing Monaco with her presence," Lando teased. "No wonder you've been so distracted lately. When do I get to hang out with her?"

"You don't," Max rolled his eyes, "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go."

"Alright, alright," Lando stepped aside, still grinning. "But I want details later, yeah? And tell YN I said hi."

Max waved him off, hurrying to his car. Despite Lando's teasing, he couldn't wipe the smile off his face. The excitement was bubbling up inside him again as he drove to the airport.

As he parked and made his way to the arrivals area, Max felt his nerves almost making him want to throw up. He found himself fidgeting, alternating between pacing and sitting, his eyes glued to the arrivals board.

Finally, he saw that YN's flight had landed. His heart rate picked up as he watched the doors, scanning the crowd for her familiar face. And then, suddenly, there she was.

YN emerged from the arrivals gate, looking a bit tired from the journey but still radiant. Her eyes scanned the crowd, and when they landed on Max, her face lit up with a brilliant smile.

Max felt his breath catch in his throat. He raised his hand in a small wave, a grin spreading across his face as he walked towards her.

"Hey, Max," she said as she reached him, her voice warm and slightly breathless.

"Hey," he replied, suddenly feeling shy. "How was your flight?"

Without thinking, he pulled her into a hug. As he wrapped his arms around her, breathing in the scent of her hair, he felt a sense of rightness wash over him. It was as if all the pieces were falling into place.

"It was good, just long," she hugged him back tightly. "I'm so glad to be here though."

As they pulled apart, Max found himself reluctant to let go completely. He kept one hand on her back as he reached for her suitcase with the other. "Here, let me get that for you."

"Always the gentleman," YN teased, but her smile was soft and appreciative.

As they walked towards the exit, Max found himself stealing glances at her, still hardly believing she was really here. "So, um, I thought we could grab some lunch if you're hungry? Or if you're tired, we can head straight to my place so you can rest."

YN considered for a moment. "Lunch sounds great, actually. I'm starving, and I'm too excited to sleep just yet. I want to see Monaco."

Max chuckled, feeling a warmth spread through his chest at her enthusiasm. "Lunch it is then. I know just the place – it has a great view of the harbor."

As they made their way to Max's car, chatting easily about YN's flight and Max's plans for her visit, Max felt a sense of contentment he hadn't experienced in a long time. The nervousness from earlier had melted away, replaced by pure happiness.

Loading YN's suitcase into the trunk, Max caught her eye and smiled. "I'm really glad you're here, YN."

She returned his smile, her eyes sparkling. "Me too, Max. Me too."

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username1 AWEEE

username2 those are cute kittens

username3 those look like max verstappen's cats

username4 JIMMY AND SASSY VERSTAPPEN??

↳ username1 how CRAZY would it be

danielricciardo Don't hesitate to shout if he's much trouble

↳ username2 HOLD ON??

↳ ynreadsbooks he's just fine don't worry 😅

↳ username3 IS SHE REALLY WITH MAX??

↳ maxverstappen1 I'm not trouble...

↳ username1 OMFGGG

↳ username4 THIS PLOT TWIST

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Three days had passed since YN's arrival in Monaco, and Max couldn't remember a time when he'd been happier.

True to her word, YN had cooked her infamous waffles for breakfast on the second morning of her stay. As Max had taken his first bite, his eyes had widened in surprise and delight. The waffles were light and crispy on the outside, yet fluffy on the inside, with a perfect balance of sweetness and a hint of vanilla. He'd declared them the best he'd ever tasted, earning a proud smile from her.

The days that followed had been filled with laughter, conversation, and exploration. They'd spent hours by Max's pool, talking about everything and nothing. YN would often bring a book, reading aloud passages that she found particularly interesting or amusing, while Max listened, content to hear her voice and watch the way her eyes lit up when she spoke about something she loved.

They'd explored Monaco together, with Max showing YN his favorite spots and discovering new ones together. He'd taken her to the Monte Carlo Casino, where they'd marveled at the architecture and people-watched. They'd strolled through the streets of Monaco-Ville, the old town, where YN had been enchanted by the colorful buildings. They'd even spent an afternoon at the Oceanographic Museum, where YN's enthusiasm for learning had been infectious, and Max had found himself just as excited as she was about the marine life exhibits.

Throughout it all, Max felt himself falling deeper for her. It wasn't just her beauty or her intelligence that captivated him, but the way she saw the world. Her curiosity, her kindness, her ability to find joy in the smallest things - it all made Max see his surroundings through new eyes. He found himself noticing details he'd never paid attention to before, appreciating moments he might have otherwise overlooked.

What struck Max most was how easy and right it all felt. There was no pressure, no awkwardness. Being with YN was as natural as breathing. They could talk for hours without running out of things to say, but they were also comfortable in silence, simply enjoying each other's presence.

As they returned from another long day of exploring the city, both Max and YN retreated to their respective rooms to change into more comfortable clothing. Max opted for a soft t-shirt and sweatpants, relishing the feeling of being relaxed and at ease in his own home.

When he emerged from his room, he found YN already settled on his couch, her legs tucked under her, a book in her hands and one of his cats curling beside her. She was wearing one the t-shirt she picked the night she arrived when she realized she forgot to pack pajamas. It was too big for her frame but Max felt like melting knowing she was wearing his shirt.

The sight made Max's heart skip a beat. There was something so intimate and domestic about the scene - YN looking completely at home in his space, in his clothes, absorbed in a book as if she'd always been there.

Max couldn't help but smile, a warmth spreading through his chest. He found himself wanting this view in his life every day - coming home to find YN there, comfortable and content. The thought both thrilled and terrified him. He'd never felt this way about anyone before, never wanted to intertwine his life so completely with another person's.

YN looked up from her book, catching Max's gaze. Her lips curved into a soft smile. "Hey. Want to join me?"

Without hesitation, Max crossed the room. Instead of sitting next to her, he surprised both of them by lying down on the couch and resting his head in her lap. He looked up at her, his eyes vulnerable. "Would you read to me?"

YN's expression softened, her eyes twinkling with affection. "Of course," she said, her free hand moving to gently run her fingers through his hair.

Max closed his eyes, reveling in the sensation. He felt her shift slightly, getting comfortable, and then her voice filled the air, soft and melodious as she began to read.

Max's lips curved into a smile. "Emma," he murmured. "I remember you mentioning it was one of your favorites."

YN paused her reading, looking down at him with surprise and pleasure. "You remembered that?"

"Of course," Max opened his eyes, meeting her gaze. "I remember everything you tell me."

A huge grin appeared in YN's face, and she bent down to press a soft kiss to Max's forehead. The gesture was so natural, so tender, that it made Max's heart flutter.

As she continued to read, her fingers still combing through his hair, Max found himself only half-listening to the words. Instead, he was acutely aware of every point of contact between them - the warmth of her lap under his head, the gentle touch of her fingers, the soft cadence of her voice washing over him.

In that moment, Max realized with startling clarity that this was what he wanted for the rest of his life. Not just the glamour of racing or the thrill of victory, but this - quiet moments of intimacy, the comfort of being with someone who understood him, who made him want to be better.

He reached up, gently taking YN's free hand in his own, intertwining their fingers. She paused in her reading, looking down at him with a question in her eyes.

"YN," Max said softly, his voice filled with emotion. "I'm really glad you're here."

She squeezed his hand, her smile radiant. "So am I, Max. So am I."

As she resumed reading, her voice mixing with the soft sound of the Mediterranean breeze outside, Max closed his eyes again, a sense of peace settling over him. Whatever the future held, he knew that this moment, this feeling, was something he'd cherish forever.

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username1 GIRL

username2 THIS ESCALATED QUICKLY

username3 how do you go from max randomly commenting one of your videos to this

username4 girl we can tell that's max dw 😭😭

username5 YOU OWE US A TWO HOUR STORYTIME VIDEO

username6 anything you want to tell us best friend?

username7 she just had a book and a dream fr

landonorris Has he bored you yet?

↳ username1 IM DYING

↳ username2 she really masterminded her way into the f1 circle

↳ ynreadsbooks he's nice, makes good smoothies 😉

↳ maxverstappen1 Good to know that ❤️

↳ landonorris I'm disgusted

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As the final day of YN's stay in Monaco dawned, Max found himself feeling so many bittersweet emotions. The past week had been nothing short of magical, and the thought of it coming to an end left a hollow feeling in his chest. She hadn't even left yet, and already he missed her.

For their final day, Max had decided to take YN out on his yacht. He wanted their last hours together to be special, just the two of them away from the bustling streets of Monaco. As they prepared for the day, packing a picnic and gathering sunscreen and towels, Max couldn't help but reflect on the past week.

Daniel and Lando had teased him mercilessly about his sudden disappearance from their usual hangouts. They'd made jokes about Max being "whipped" and how he'd fallen hard for his "YouTube dream girl." But Max didn't care. He was too happy, too caught up in the bubble of joy that surrounded him and YN.

As they boarded the yacht, the Mediterranean stretching out before them in shades of turquoise, Max felt a pang in his chest. This perfect week was coming to an end, and he wasn't sure he was ready to face reality again.

Once they were out on the open water. YN leaned over the railing, a look of wonder on her face.

"This is incredible, Max," she said, turning to him with a dazzling smile. "I can't believe I'm here, experiencing all of this."

Max moved to stand beside her, their shoulders brushing. "I'm going to miss you," he said softly, "This week has been… I don't even have words for it."

"I'm going to miss you too, Max. So much. But you know I have to go back home. I have videos to make for my channel, work stuff to catch up on…"

Max nodded, understanding but not liking it. "Maybe you could make a video about 'A Week with an F1 Driver'? I'm sure your subscribers would love that."

YN laughed, playfully shoving his shoulder. "Oh yes, I'm sure that would go over well. 'Day 3: Watched Max eat his bodyweight in pasta. Day 5: Learned that F1 drivers are actually big babies when they lose at Mario Kart.'"

"I am not a baby!" Max gasped in mock offense. "I'm just… competitive."

"Uh-huh, sure," she teased, her eyes twinkling. "Is that why you pouted for an hour after I beat you?"

"I did not pout," Max protested, but he was grinning.

"You know, it's still surreal to me that a random video I published got us here. If someone had told me a year ago that I'd be spending a week in Monaco with Max Verstappen, I would have laughed in their face."

Max reached out, caressing her cheek softly. "I'm glad you made that video," he said softly. "I'm glad I stumbled across it. I can't imagine not knowing you now."

As they stood together on the boat, the gentle rocking of the waves mirroring the tumultuous emotions within them, Max found his gaze drawn to YN's lips. They were slightly parted, soft and inviting. His heart raced as he lifted his eyes to meet hers, a silent question in his gaze.

YN's eyes, warm and full of affection, met his. A small, knowing smile played at the corners of her mouth, and in that moment, it was all the permission Max needed.

With a gentle tug, he pulled her closer, one hand coming to rest on the small of her back while the other cupped her cheek. Time seemed to slow as he leaned in, their breaths mingling in the space between them. And then, finally, their lips met.

The kiss was tender at first, a soft exploration. But as YN's arms wrapped around his neck, her fingers threading through his hair, it deepened into something more passionate. Max poured all of his pent-up emotions into the kiss - his joy, his longing, his hope for what they could be.

When they finally parted, YN's eyes were sparkling. "You know," she said, a playful tone to her voice, "I've been waiting for you to do that all week."

Max couldn't help but laugh, a mixture of relief and happiness bubbling up inside him. "Really? All week, huh?"

"Mmhmm," she nodded, her smile widening. "I was starting to think I'd have to make the first move myself."

"Well," Max said, his voice low and teasing, "allow me to make up for lost time."

With that, he pulled her in for another kiss. This one was different from the first - more confident, more passionate. His hands roamed her back, pulling her flush against him as her fingers tangled in his hair. The world around them faded away until there was nothing but the two of them, the taste of salt on their lips, and the warmth of the setting sun on their skin.

When they broke apart this time, both were slightly dazed. Max rested his forehead against YN's, unwilling to put any distance between them.

"I really like you," he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. "More than I've ever liked anyone before. This week with you… it's been incredible. I don't want it to end."

YN's hand came up to cup his cheek, her thumb gently stroking his skin. "I really like you too, Max," she replied, her voice equally soft. "These past few days have been like a dream."

Max pulled back slightly, just enough to meet her eyes. "I know you have to go back, but… I want to make this work. Us, I mean. If that's something you want too."

"I do want that. Very much. It might not be easy with our schedules and the distance, but I think you're worth it."

"We'll figure it out," he said, determination clear in his voice. "I'll come visit you when I can, and you can come to some of my races. We'll make time for video calls, and I'll text you so much you'll get sick of me."

YN laughed, the sound like music to Max's ears. "I don't think I could ever get sick of you," she said, her eyes twinkling. "But I'm holding you to that promise about the races. I expect VIP treatment, Mr. Verstappen."

Max grinned, pulling her close again. "For you? Always," he murmured, before capturing her lips in another kiss.

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ynreadsbooks has added to their stories

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The month following YN's stay in Monaco had been blissful happiness for both YN and Max. Their parting at the airport had been bittersweet, filled with lingering kisses and tight embraces. They had spent a good hour cuddling in Max's car in the airport parking lot, neither wanting to let go.

"I'm going to miss you so much," YN had whispered, her face buried in the crook of Max's neck.

Max had tightened his arms around her, breathing in her scent. "I'll miss you too. But we'll see each other soon, I promise."

When they finally managed to separate, their goodbye kiss had been passionate and filled with promise. As Max watched her disappear into the airport, he already felt a piece of his heart leaving with her.

In the weeks that followed, they took every opportunity to be together. Max would fly to YN's home during his breaks between races, often arriving exhausted but immediately revitalized by her presence.

Their reunions were always intense, filled with desperate kisses and roaming hands as they made up for lost time. But it was the quiet moments that Max treasured most - waking up with YN in his arms, her sleepy smile the first thing he saw; cooking breakfast together, stealing kisses between flipping pancakes; or simply sitting in comfortable silence, each lost in their own tasks but finding comfort in the other's presence.

Now, as they walked hand in hand through the paddock in Austin for the USA Grand Prix, Max felt a sense of pride and joy unlike anything he'd experienced before. Having YN by his side at a race weekend, this time as more than just a friend, felt right in a way he couldn't fully express.

"This is incredible, Max," YN breathed, squeezing his hand. "I don't think I'll ever get used to it."

Max grinned, his heart swelling with affection. He loved seeing the paddock through her eyes, rediscovering the magic that he sometimes took for granted.

"Wait until you see the track," he said, pulling her closer. "And the sound when all the cars start up… there's nothing like it."

They paused for a moment, watching as a group of mechanics wheeled a set of tires past them. Max took the opportunity to really look at his girl. She was radiant in the sunlight, her hair catching the light and her eyes sparkling with excitement. He couldn't resist leaning in to place a soft kiss on her cheek.

YN turned to him, a playful smile on her lips. "What was that for?"

"Do I need a reason to kiss my girl?" Max replied, his voice low and teasing.

She laughed, the sound music to his ears. "I suppose not. But maybe save some for later? We are in public, after all."

"You're killing me," Max groaned dramatically. "How am I supposed to focus on racing when you look like that?"

"Oh, I'm sure you'll manage," YN teased, patting his chest. "After all, I hear you're quite good at this driving thing."

Their playful banter was interrupted by a familiar voice calling out. "Oi, Verstappen! Finally decided to grace us with your presence?"

Max turned to see Daniel approaching, his trademark grin in place. Lando was close behind, an equally mischievous look on his face.

"Hey guys," Max greeted, unconsciously pulling YN closer. "You remember YN, right?"

"Ah yes," Daniel's grin widened. "Nice to see you again, love."

"It's great to see you too, Daniel," she smiled warmly. "And you, Lando."

Lando's eyes darted between Max and YN, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "So, Max, finally managed to seal the deal, huh?"

Max felt his cheeks heat up, but before he could respond, YN jumped in.

"Oh, he did more than that," she said, her tone light but with a hint of something that made Max's pulse quicken. "He's been quite… impressive."

Daniel let out a low whistle while Lando burst into laughter. Max couldn't help but join in, marveling at how effortlessly YN fit into his world.

As they chatted, Max couldn't keep his hands off YN. He found himself constantly touching her - a hand on the small of her back, playing with her fingers, rubbing her arm softly. Each touch was like a spark, reminding him of their passionate reunions over the past month.

He thought back to their last meeting, just a week ago. He had flown to her place straight after he was done with some meetings in Monaco, exhausted but desperate to see her. The moment he stepped through her door, all fatigue had vanished. They had barely made it to the bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes in their wake. The memory of her skin against his, the taste of her lips, the sound of her gasps and moans… it was enough to make him want to whisk her away to his motorhome right now.

Max was pulled from his thoughts by the approach of another familiar face. Charles Leclerc was walking towards them, his trademark charming smile in place.

"Max! Good to see you, man," Charles said, clapping Max on the shoulder before turning his attention to YN. "And who might this lovely lady be?"

Without hesitation, the words tumbled from Max's lips: "This is YN, my girlfriend."

He felt the girl stiffen slightly beside him, and for a moment, panic flared in his chest. Had he overstepped? They hadn't explicitly discussed labels yet. But when he glanced at YN, she was smiling warmly at Charles, her hand still firmly in Max's.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Charles," YN said, shaking his hand.

Charles raised an eyebrow at Max, a hint of surprise in his expression. "The pleasure is all mine. I hope you're enjoying your time in the paddock."

After exchanging a few more pleasantries, they parted ways. Max led YN towards his driver's room. Once inside the relative privacy of the small space, YN turned to him, a playful glint in her eye.

"Girlfriend, huh?" she said, her tone light but with an undercurrent of something Max couldn't quite identify.

Max felt a flutter of nervousness in his stomach. "I… yeah. I mean, if that's okay? I know we haven't really talked about it, but…"

YN stepped closer, her fingers playing with the collar of his shirt. "It's more than okay, Max. I was just surprised. We've been in this beautiful bubble, and hearing you say it out loud… it made it feel real in a way it hasn't before."

Max let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. His hands found their way to YN's waist, pulling her closer. "It is real," he said softly. "I've never felt this way about anyone before. Feels like you're everything."

Her eyes softened, her hand coming up to cup his cheek. "You're everything to me too, Max. I love you."

The words hung in the air between them for a moment, both realizing it was the first time either had said it. Then Max surged forward, capturing YN's lips in a kiss that was equal parts tender and passionate.

When they broke apart. Max rested his forehead against YN's, his eyes closed as he savored the moment.

"I love you too," he whispered. "God, YN, I love you so much."

YN's answering smile was radiant and she pulled him in for another kiss.

"So," he said, his voice husky, "ready to watch your boyfriend win a race?"

YN laughed, the sound filling the small space and Max's heart. "Always," she replied. "My misunderstood hero with a heart of gold."

God, when will I be able to ride this cowboy

maybe, just maybe

─── maybe it would be all worth it in the end

frat!lando norris x fem!reader warnings; nsfw!! minors dni!!! [includes p in v, oral-- m & f receiving, fingering- f receiving, unprotected]

 2:43 AM. The time on your lockscreen is blaring, it embarrasses you and almost makes you go to bed. 

Almost. 

→ Lando 2:43AM Are you on your way?

You bite down on your bottom lip, gaze switching from the text and your reflection in the mirror. You were ready to go– you’ve been ready to go. Yet, your bottom is still glued to the edge of your bed and your eyes on your reflection. You stare at yourself, weigh your options, make a mental pros and cons list about driving over to a fraternity house in the early hours of the morning. And when it comes to Lando, the cons list always seems to run longer than the pros. It’s a sign, you shouldn’t go.

Your phone pings with another text from Lando.

→ Lando 2:44AM Just lmk so I can go wait for you downstairs. 

You’re not this girl. You’re not the hook up type, the “go see a boy at three a.m.” type. You’re not this girl, not the one contemplating the idea of the boy who only seems to remember you when he’s lonely. No. You’re the type to be in bed at three a.m., the type of girl to stay in and watch a movie at three a.m, than to meet a boy. You’d much rather meet a boy at three p.m. 

Though admittedly, you hadn’t been that girl much either.

Your phone pings again. 

→ Lando 2:44AM Or if not I’ll just go to bed. But please come.

The message makes the guilt creep up on you, eat you up and reason with you. It erases all the cons on that little mental list you made earlier, and all because he said please. You sigh softly, giving in to him like you always do. You slip on your shoes, throw your bag over your shoulder, before walking out of your room. Your fingers tap away at a response quickly, hitting send before you get to your car.

← You 2:45AM Omw. Be there in 5

→ Lando 2:45AM Okay. Drive safe. 

You bite down on your lip when you read his notification, fighting back a smile. It’s stupid, it shouldn’t affect you this much. But it does. He cares, you mock yourself. You put your phone in the cupholder, letting your music shuffle as you pull out of your parking spot. The drive turns out to be eight minutes thanks to slow stoplights and the one pedestrian that decided to run across the road. But you make it to the house in one piece, parking on the unusually quiet street, between a gray Lexus and a white Camry. 

← You 2:53AM Here

→ Lando 2:53AM Door is unlocked

Pit pat pit, your shoes smack against the three steps up to the front door. True to his word, the door knob twists all the way and allows you into the sleepy house. You wish you could say you’d never seen the house like this, quiet and void of some sort of gathering. But that would be a lie because you have seen it this quiet. You’ve walked into the house many times before, quietly and secretly, always to meet the same boy. 

Lando doesn’t look up from his spot, leaning against the arm of the couch in the living room as he stares at whatever illuminates his phone screen. He’s clothed in a gray hoodie, hood pulled over his hair, and black sweatpants. You shut the door quietly behind you, whispering a soft hey as you take the short steps over to him. He finally looks up, smiling briefly before leaning down to peck your lips. 

It’s sickening how natural– how normal, it all feels. It shouldn’t. 

“How was your drive?” He asks, stuffing his phone in his pocket before slinging that same hand over you. His arm weighs warmly on your shoulders, pulling you into his side. 

“T’was okay…” you answer, looking up at him, “I think the pothole on University Drive got bigger.” 

He doesn’t return your gaze, acts as your eyes instead as he leads you through the house. But he smiles at your comment, wide enough that you can see the crinkles by his eyes. “Yeah… it probably did.” 

Lando’s arm slips from around you when you reach the foot of the stairs. He gets up about two steps before you follow behind him. Your footsteps are muffled into the carpeting, and there is a soft glow that comes from the second floor of the house. At the top of the steps, on the wall to the left sits the fraternity composite from the previous school year. Lando’s photo is on the fourth row, third from the right. He has a charming smile, and eyes that laugh. He looked so good. 

“When are you guys updating that?” Lando turns around when you ask, staring at the obscurely large photo framed on the wall. It takes a couple of seconds, you see the gears turning behind his green eyes. 

“Uh… maybe next week? Can’t remember when Pierre said it would be.” He rubs his eyes, fighting back a yawn before he waves you over to follow him. 

It’s a fairly quiet walk to his room. The house is fast asleep, though not necessarily dead silent. You can still hear shows playing and music changing behind the doors of each room. Each individual sleeping habit becomes clearer in the short walk to Lando’s room. 

His door is already opened, letting out cold air and the smell of alcohol and cologne. Calvin Klein – the same bottle of eau de toilette you bought him for his birthday last year. And Old Spice, though you have the deodorant stick left on the nightstand, cap off, to blame for that. You crinkle your nose at the scent, setting your bag down on his desk before slipping off your shoes. 

“Uh…” Lando rubs the top of his hoodie, pressing it down against his curly hair, “Sorry. I spilled vodka on my floor earlier. It still smells.” 

You hum, nodding as you walk across his room to close his deodorant. Lando reaches around you, swiping the tube as the cap clicks, walking it over to his dresser and placing it next to his rings and the cologne. He apologizes, cheeks hot and the tips of his ears red. 

His room is still as messy as you remember it. Laundry hanging precariously over the hamper and there are more empty hangers in his half opened closet than used ones. His letters are hanging over the back of his desk chair, and his bag is leaning against the leg of it. It’s zipped open showing off three crinkled papers and two folders. One red one, one blue one– both empty.  A bright orange t-shirt hangs out the side of it, just barely covering his black water bottle stuffed into the designated pocket. By his bed, his nightstand holds a lamp with no bulb and three vapes. His sheets are undone, obviously lived in and if you know Lando, you know he hasn’t made his bed in a week. 

“Why were you drinking in your room?” You finally ask, crawling onto the bed and over to your side of it. 

“Just because.” He shrugs, walking over to the door to push it shut. He pinches the lock between the side of his index finger and the pad of his thumb, twisting it locked. “Why, you want to take one?”

You scrunch your nose at the offer and it makes him laugh. “It’s three a.m.”

Lando smiles knowingly, hands coming up to grab onto the back of his hoodie. “We’ve done worse things,” He says, pulling the white material over his head, tossing it on the floor and leaving his torso bare. His finger flicks off the lights, but the room is still dimly lit by the warm streetlight outside his window. You watch him climb into bed, walking on his knees the short distance to you before he dips his head and presses a rough kiss against your lips. His hand holds your cheek, the ends of his fingers just dipping into your hair. 

You smile as you kiss him back, blowing an amused breath through your nose. “Almost like you miss me,” you tease between kisses. He laughs, breathy and smelling like minty toothpaste, as he pulls away. You can see the way he looks at you, eyes filled with a kind of fondness that makes your heart melt and believe in something just a little more. 

“I do miss you.” 

You give him a look, a playful non-believing one. Wide eyes, raised brows, and a puckered lip that asked him oh really? It makes him do another one of those breathless laughs as he adjusts himself in front of you, right arm taught to hold up his body while his left palm curves over your right knee, pushing it further from your left. 

“Let me show you how much I do.” 

Your breath hitches in your throat, eyes watching as his fingers grip onto the waistband of your sweats. He tugs them down your legs, over your knees, and off your ankles in one swift, eager movement. You watch as he lays on his stomach, left arm fitting snugly under your thigh. He licks his bottom lip before tugging it between his teeth, eyes stuck on the baby pink underwear that he’s left you in– particularly the little bow that sits on the waistband, just below your belly button. There’s a crooked smile on his lips as his right hand comes up, index finger and thumb picking at the little thing, using it to pull the waistband of your underwear back before letting it snap against your skin. 

“Cute.” 

“Shut up.”

A low chuckle vibrates in his throat. He leaves the bow be, leaves the teasing words up in the air. But his fingers, his fingers are just ghosting over you, over the pink fabric. His fingers do what he won’t say with words. His long, slender, middle finger traces lines over your clothed slit. Up and down, up and down. You can’t breathe, anticipating the relief he’d surely give you if you’re only patient enough. 

The streetlight outside is orange and obnoxiously bright. You complained about it every time, begging him to get a curtain or buy new blinds (Oscar destroyed his old ones several parties ago, and he had yet to replace them). It’s been months and a handful of sleepovers and his only compromise was switching places in bed with you. But tonight, tonight you love that street light. You love the warmth that bounces off his skin, the way it allows you to see the freckles that litter his shoulders. But perhaps your favorite part of it all, the part that gets you the most, is the light cast over half his face. The shadows contouring him perfectly, and the light kissing the most prominent part of him. And that light allows you to see his eyes flick up towards you, a burning gaze as you feel his thumb pull your panties to the side. 

He looks down at your cunt with blown pupils and a hungry stare. “Missed your pussy.” 

A second. And another. And then his tongue is lapping you up and tickling your clit. You squirm beneath him, gasping for air as he wraps his lips around your nerves. It sends tingles through your skin, shoots pleasure into every nerve ending and pulls your back off the bed. You whine, begging for more more more. He rumbles against you, humming contentedly as he flicks his tongue against your core. Lando’s right hand grips the top of your thigh, pads of his fingers pressing against your flesh and leaving imprints of him. He eats your pussy like a man starved– tongue desperate to taste every inch of you. 

Lando, Lando, Lando, you chant softly. You pick up your head, abdomen tense as you begin to feel your orgasm build in the pit of your stomach. You’re standing at the edge, on the tips of your toes, waiting… waiting for him to push you over the edge. You moan quietly, fingers frantically searching for him and finding refuge in his curls. You feel every strand, every curve and twist of his hair against your fingers as you grip onto them to pull him closer to your cunt. You beg a whiney please… I’m so close. You breathe, gasping for air when you feel his middle and ring finger curl into you. His mouth continues to trace shapes and figures against your clit as his fingers pump at an unforgiving pace. It’s there, you’re right there. 

You lose the sensation of his lips, replaced instead by his warm breath. And your eyes are screwed shut otherwise you’d see the way he looks up at you through his lashes and that knowing smirk on his lips. “You gonna come for me baby?” he taunts, “make a mess all over my fingers? All over my face?”

You whimper, “All over your pretty face.” you confirm, looking between your legs. 

Lando smirks, “Yeah… yeah baby. Come for me,” he encourages, quickening the pace of his fingers and curling them. You could scream, you want to. But the house is so quiet, so fucking quiet. “C’mon baby, give it to me.” 

Your moan is broken by the gasps, broken by pleasure shooting through your skin. Your legs shake, clench around Lando’s head who doesn’t let up, who returns his mouth onto your cunt, tongue flicking and fingers squelching into you. You buck your hips against his face as you chase your orgasm, and he chuckles into you. You can feel his smile against you and that’s just enough to bring you over the edge. You picture it, the knowing smirk that he’s got you right he wants you. Lando savors every second of your pussy pulsating around him, your arousal coating his chin. It’s only when you stifle a giggle, when palms are against his forehead and pushing him away from your sensitive cunt does he finally stop. You feel empty when he pulls his fingers out of you, you feel almost… incomplete. 

Lando sucks on his fingers, humming around them before releasing them with a pop. You push yourself up, hand reaching out to pull the boy over you and smashing your lips against his. You can taste yourself mixed with his spit, your sweet arousal on his tongue doesn’t bother you nearly as much as it used to. You press your palm against Lando’s chest, push him down onto his side of the bed and find your place between his thighs. You can see his hard dick pressing against the fabric of his sweatpants, and you waste no time tugging the material down his legs with his underwear, with just as much desperation he had with you. 

“Almost like you miss me,” Lando teases. 

You bite back a smile, teeth digging into your bottom lip as you pull his bottoms over his ankles, discarding them to the floor. “Almost.” 

You level your head with his cock, quick to press your tongue flat against his shaft to lick a long stripe up his length. Lando hisses and its music to your ears. You do it again before wrapping your hand around him, sucking in your cheeks before releasing a ball of spit against the head. You use your palm to spread the wetness up and down his length, eyes flickering up for a bit of approval. Lando nods, breath stuck in his chest while he reaches over to you. His fingers comb through your hair, pushing your locks over your shoulder before resting at the base of your neck. He doesn’t need to say a thing, just has to push your head down gently, to encourage you where he wants you. 

You start at the head, tongue swirling before licking along the top of it. The skin is taught, sensitive, housing nerves you set ablaze with just a flick of your tongue. Slowly, you allow more of him into your mouth until he just begins to fit snugly at the top of your throat. Lando groans, sings praises and coos over how well you take him. You force yourself to take more of him, allow his thick cock to fill your throat. You gag around him before finding the strength to swallow. The boy moans at the way your throat constricts around him, whines when you do it again. His fingers grip your hair tightly to alleviate the pressure in his chest. You come up for air, releasing his dick with a pop, mouth dripping with spit as you gasp for air. 

“Wanna fuck that sweet mouth of yours,” Lando breathes. “Would you let me do that?” 

You look up at him through your lashes, lowering your head to press a kiss against the head of his dick. You nod against him, mouth falling open once again and moving just low enough that if he’d buck his hips, he’d hit the back of your throat. There’s a moment of stillness, a moment where you begin to feel every little thing in the room. The cool air, the plush duvet, and your mouth watering over Lando. Anticipation drives you mad, makes you giddy and wet between your legs. Lando pulls all your hair behind your head, frizzy locks spilling over his fist. The ends tickle your back, the base of your neck. The side of his hand presses into the back of your head, guiding you down his length, pushing further and further into your mouth. Your nose flares as you try to control your breathing, throat relaxed and jaw slack. And just as his head begins to squeeze into the top of your throat, he pulls your head back up. He starts slow, eases your mouth up and down his cock, pushing further with every dip, until he hears the profane sounds of air and spit stopping him from continuing. 

“God,” Lando groans, “Your fucking mouth…”

The compliment, whatever it was meant to be, is lost in the air as Lando throws his head back with another rough groan. You try to bob your head, swallow as much of him as you can. But your hair is bunched in his fist, tightly, rendering you still with your lips wrapped around him. You suck, swirl your tongue, do as much as your limited movement will allow, beckoning another sinful sound to fall from his lips. His fist only winds tighter, making the hairs on the bottom of your head ache.

He hums, the hand not in your hair tapping your jaw. Your lips are frozen, eyes flicking up to look up at him. Lando presses his lips into a thin line, suppressing an amused look, “Sorry. Open. Just open your mouth baby.” 

You hum, complying with his request and letting your jaw fall slack. You press your tongue flat in your mouth and grant him the room he needs as he begins to thrust himself into your mouth. The head of his cock hits the back of your throat that makes your mouth water, the not-so-gentle assault making your arousal begin to spread to the inside of your thighs, a mess of desperation. Lando’s legs are bent just enough on either side of you so he could push his hips up. He’s panting, moaning, a mess as he holds your hair tightly and pushes himself as far as your tight throat would take him. Your eyes water as you begin to choke around him, gagging and gurgling your spit– making a fucking mess all over him. You miss the words that tumble past his lips, miss the compliments and praises of how well your taking him as he fucks your mouth. All you could focus on is breathing through your nose, relaxing your throat as you accommodate his size. Lando pulls out of your mouth completely a moment later, fingers releasing your hair and finding your jaw instead. His four fingers hold onto your face, forcing you to look up at him while his thumb swipes the saliva that covers your bottom lip and chin. You blush but he smiles, guiding you over him so he can kiss you again. 

Lando’s hands trace your curves, finding their way to your hips. His grip is warm, the pads of his fingers pressing into the flesh of your love handles as he guides you over him. The kiss grows eager, heated by the proximity and your slick cunt just barely brushing his stiff cock. The playfulness dissipates and is replaced by desperation. Your knees are on either side of his hips, and your lips part from his as you reach for his dick behind you, pulling it up as you rub the head against your pussy. Lando’s lips latch onto your nipple, sucking the bud between his teeth. You hiss at the sensation, throwing your head back as you press his cock against your entrance. Slowly, deliberately, you lower yourself onto him. A groan bubbles from Lando’s throat and it vibrates against your skin. 

You whine when he bottoms out in you, whine at the fullness you feel when he’s pushed all the way inside you. “Fuck Lando…” You breathe, gasping for air. 

He nudges his nose against your jaw, encouraging you to tilt your head away from him to kiss you where you like to be kissed. His lips are soft, wet, gentle as he begins to kiss your neck. They lick and suck that makes the hairs rise on your skin. Slowly, you push yourself up on your knees before sinking yourself back down. The grip on your hips grows tighter, encouraging you to move quicker, to bounce on his cock faster. But you choose to savor the fullness, to savor the minutes that pass you both by. You didn’t mind taking your time chasing the high, you knew you’d get there eventually. 

You try to build up to the moment, swiveling your hips around him as you move yourself up and down. You feel every bit of him inside of you, moaning at how he stretches you when he’s all the way in you. You’re Lando’s hands squeeze your hips, hold you up so that only half of him is exposed. And then he thrusts up, sheathing himself in you completely. You nearly topple over at the force, hands quick to press against his chest to find your balance. The new angle has moans bubbling from your throat with ease. You’re desperate for more, pushing back against him as he continues to thrust upwards. 

Lando is impatient. He’s desperate, horny, and just vexed enough to flip you both over so that your back is against his mattress and he’s sitting over you. He pulls your right leg over his shoulder while he pushes your left thigh down into your chest. He mumbles under his breath, none of which you can make sense of, especially when he bucks his hips against yours, hard. You arch your back, head digging into his flimsy pillow and engulfing you in the scent of his shampoo left in the threads. Your senses are on fire, nerves overwhelmed with pleasure. Moans escape you, whiny and desperate with every stroke of his cock. 

“You like that?” Lando breathes, “Like when I fuck you like this?”

You nod, whining a pathetic yes. You do, god of course you do. There is no other reason, nothing more enticing than a three a.m. text message, it's truly the biggest reason you dare make the drive to a stupid frat house in the first place. You like– no love how Lando fucks you. You love the way he makes you feel, how he sets every nerve on fire and blurs all your senses so that all you feel is him. Him, him, him. 

You look up at him, see the cocky smirk curved into his lips as he continues to fuck you into the bed. There’s a sheen of sweat that coats his skin, the warm light of the streetlamp glistening against his toned chest. You reach up, fingers inching up from his chest to his neck, pulling him back to you into a heated kiss. Always a mess of teeth and tongue, mixed with desperation and the need to be as close to the other as possible. Lando filling you up, fitting himself in your warmth, doesn’t feel close enough. You moan into his mouth at the new sensation, the feeling of him– every ridge and vein, all of him– and the way he begins to fuck into you. You’re a mess, unable to keep up with the kiss, to keep up with the boy fucking you. 

“Lando,” You breathe against his lips

Lando pulls away, forehead resting on yours as his right hand comes up to cup your jaw. His thumb presses against your lips, pushing past them and resting on your tongue. Almost instantly, your lips wrap around his finger and sucking. His eyes go dark, the bright green gone from the lust that takes over his gaze. He savors the feeling of your tongue, soft and wet against the pad of his thumb. Flashes of the moments not too long ago make his cock twitch and he swears he could finish in that moment. But he pulls his thumb from your mouth, hand finding its place above your crotch to place the slick digit against your clit. You gasp, head thrown back into the pillow and the moans begin to choke you. You’re struggling to breathe as pleasure creeps up your bones, prickles at your skin one nerve at a time. 

“Oh god,” You breathe, “I’m gonna come.” 

You regret saying it because the moment you do, Lando stops. His hard cock, still inside of you, and your orgasm withering away. You whine in protest, turning your head into the pillow to hide the displeasure woven into your face. You could scream at the way he laughs above you, the soft coos of your name and the light hearted teasing that you didn’t get to finish. But before you could retaliate, to let your irritation get the best of you, Lando flips you over onto your stomach. His hands, planted firmly on your hips, pull them up. You feel his hands spread your ass, squeezing and then his lips against the skin. 

“Don’t worry baby,” Lando mumbles against the flesh of your bottom, “I got you.” 

A beat and then his tongue is on your pussy again. He licks a stripe, and another, and once more before you can no longer feel his warm breath. There’s a mumble of compliments, none of which you manage to make out between the rustling of the sheets and your left ear buried in the pillow in an effort to take a peek at him.  You’re panting, waiting, anticipating him. And when he pushes in deep inside of you, you feel whole again. Your fingers grip onto the sheets, eyes screwed tightly shut, as Landobegins to fuck you over and over, skin slapping and the sloppy sounds of your arousal coating his dick. Your lungs shake on inhale while your exhale is throaty and desperate. Your body shakes with the bed, with every thrust, banging the bed frame against the wall.

Lando’s fingers weave their way into your hair, gripping at the roots to pull back, upright, and as close to his chest as far as  your body allows. His breath is hot against your cheek. 

“You feel so fucking good.” 

“God Lando.” 

His free hand comes up, sliding along the curves of your torso and cupping your breast before finally finding their place around your neck. And when his hand finally resides above your collar bones, he releases your hair. You reach behind you, fingers combing through his curls as you search for a bit of stability in the new position. Lando bottoms out in you with every thrust, his movements rough yet persistent. You feel the sweat of his chest against your back and your arousal sliding down the inside of your thighs. And then it’s there– your orgasm– a growing bubble in the pit of your stomach. You don’t dare say a word this time, just moan a little louder and throw your head back against his shoulder. 

Lando’s grip tightens around your neck. Your eyes roll back into your skull. He whispers dirty words in your ear, words you wouldn’t dare repeat– words only uttered in the quiet of the early morning. He says just enoughs, does just enough, to push you over the edge for the second time tonight. Your pussy pulsates, clenches and unclenches around Lando as your orgasm washes over you. You’re panting, whining, fingernails clawing at his arm that’s lain across your chest. Lando’s lips are curved into a smile as he presses a kiss under your ear, can you take one more?, he asks. 

You’re a mess, but nod anyways. That’s my girl, Lando mumbles as he pulls out from you. It’s sick how you find pleasure in the way he pulls out, enjoying the slow and languid movement he makes before he guides you down on your back. The duvet is soft, warm, plush, against your back. You were spent, eyes drooping, and if it weren’t for his presence above you, you would surely drift to sleep in a matter of seconds. Lando’s lips attach to your neck softly, leaving a trail of wet kisses along the length of it. It’s almost sweet, the way he takes his time with you. A ghost of a smile curves onto your lips as you turn, pressing yours against him. The kiss is slow, sensual– like time has stopped for the both of you and allowed a couple moments without worry. You almost let yourself fall into that fantasy– that truly in the moment it was only you and him. Lando’s hand comes up to cup your face as he presses deeper, tongue tracing along your bottom lip. You allow him way, and your tongues push and slide against each other. You moan softly, needy, as you slide your legs open so he can come closer. Lando accepts the invitation, shifting on the bed so that his chest is pressing against yours. Your hands scramble around him, one through his curly hair and the other pressing against the soft skin of his back to bring him even closer to you. 

Want you, he breathes. Need you, you whine. 

Lando pulls his lips from you, craning his neck as he grabs onto his hard shaft, sliding it along your wet slit slowly. You hold your breath in anticipation, a shudder running up your spine at the teasing movement. Up… then down. And then he’s pushing into you so agonizingly slowly. You whine softly, hands moving up to his face to bring his lips back to yours, desperate to relieve yourself of this feeling churning in the pit of your gut. Lando kisses you feverishly as he bucks his hips against you, chasing a high he had yet to find for himself. You hold onto him, failing to keep up with him as he fucks you harder and harder. His pace is slow but the thrusts are deep, calculated, once again pushing you towards a cliff you’ve jumped twice tonight already. You’re a whiney mess, begging for more after every profane word that falls from his lips. Like when I fuck you like this? You feel so good baby. You’re made for me. I’ll never get enough of you. You’re fucking mine. 

You were. No– you are. You can’t remember life before Lando, before the yearning and the need to be as close to him as you could be. Even under the guise of uncaring, behind the fake “nothing he does affects me” facade you put up, there is always a little twinge– a fray in nicely kept threads. Deep in your heart, guarded by self-preservation and ego, you know that if Lando said jump you’d always ask how high? 

His thrusts become sloppy, desperate, as he begins to chase his own high. I’m gonna come, he mumbles against your lips. A soft moan rumbles from the back of his throat, vibrates against your lips as you swallow the sounds of pleasure. Your fingers intertwine with the curls on his head, gripping tightly as you feel your own release begin to wash over you. Your orgasm grips every nerve, lights your skin on fire and suffocates you in the best way. You’re forced to rip your lips from him so you can gasp for air. Your gasp turns into quiet cries as your pussy pulsates around him. Lando is not far behind, his hips quickly pulling out of you and spurting hot cum on your lower abdomen. His hand comes up to cup your cheek, turning your head so he can kiss you once more. 

“You okay?” He finally asks, warm breath fanning over your skin as he carefully pushes the hairs from your face. You’re spent, more than okay, and so with droopy eyes and a lazy smile, you nod. Mhm. 

Lando rolls off of you, sitting up and walking towards the opposite side of the room. He bends over to swipe a towel off the floor before sauntering back to bed and swiping the material along your belly. He cleans the mess, half amused, before bending down to give you another sweet peck. You hum contentedly, hands outstretched for him to pull you up. Lando’s hand grabs yours, pulling you up and off the bed with ease. You navigate through the dimly lit, messy bedroom in search of your clothes. You manage to find your panties and hoodie before rolling over to your side of the bed and under the covers. The duvet smells lived in, with a hint of Lando and all his vices. 

With boxers over his hips, Lando climbs into bed next to you. His arms are quick to wrap around you, head finding refuge in the crook of your neck. It’s quiet now, the world fast asleep and patiently waiting to join. But as spent as you are, as much as your body begs for rest, your mind reels. It’s easy to forget about sleep when anxiety begins to weave its way into every thought.

You feel stupid again. A bit of self loathing and a sprinkle of heartache courses through your veins. You told yourself that you wouldn’t give in, that if Lando wanted to see you again, that he’d have to make an effort to do so. You were supposed to make him make the late night drive, that he’d have to walk up to your dorm all alone and sneak out again the next morning. You promised yourself to make him work a little harder and yet, all he had to do was say please and you jumped on the opportunity to see him. Like “please” excuses the fact he’d only see you when everyone was fast asleep, that he’d only hold you and kiss you and call you his when no one was looking. 

You settle comfortably, regrettably, in Lando’s arms as he wraps them around you. His lips are warm against the top of your forehead, then against your cheeks, and finally against your lips. The gesture is reassuring, tying you to a bit of security– the kind you’ll look back on and wonder if it was real. The mental list of cons you had contemplated earlier in the night had made it to the forefront of all your thoughts. It’s a long list, extensive and albeit a little overdramatic. But that the top, enumerated number one, reads the same line that pierces your chest time and time again.

He isn’t yours.

It’s a sick thought, a taunting realization that you have in the dull moments of your day. So as you lay wrapped in him, you are forced to reckon with the fact that he isn't yours. How you feel about him, differs vastly with how he feels about you. The scales are tipped in his favor of his ego and pride. 

You shuffle out of his hold, and he doesn’t seem phased as you slide out of bed. You’re slipping on your leggings, stepping into your runners and reaching for your bag. He doesn’t so much as flinch until he hears the aged brass door knob squeak at your turn.

“You’re not staying?” You look up, stare right at his back as he begins to shuffle deeper into the covers. His shoulders and all the little freckles on it are left exposed under the warm light bleeding into the room. 

“No.” 

The air in the room is thick, but you wonder if you’re making up the discomfort in your head. Lando has yet to turn, yet to respond, yet to react to the palpable tension in the room. But his shoulders only rise with his breathing, slow and steady.

“Why not?” 

Because I wouldn’t be able to fall asleep anyways. Because it isn’t a good idea. Because if I stay, I think I’ll fall in love with you. 

You shrug, “Just wanna be in my bed. And plus I have an early day tomorrow, so I’d rather be home.” 

“That’s not a very good reason.” Lando turns over, eyes half open and tongue poking out to wet his lips. “Just stay, I’ll make sure you wake up in the morning.” 

You bite down on your bottom lip, mind reeling for another excuse, another out, just about any reason to give him so you could go home and drown in your misery. But before you do, Lando sits up. He reaches for his phone and swipes along the screen. He hums softly, tapping three times before flipping his screen around for you to see. Three alarms set– 6:05, 6:15, 6:25. There, he mumbles, now come to bed. 

You’d be lying to yourself if you said that the gesture didn’t make your heart do flips. The gesture– though maybe nothing to him– is a little more than something for you. It shows he cares. It shows that he wants you there. The gesture is enough to dissolve the walls of doubt you’d built for yourself. All it took was three alarms and the boy pulling back the covers for you to return to your place in bed. You bite down on your lip, bag sliding off your shoulder and dropping to the floor with a soft thud. You were never good at standing your ground anyways. You kick off your shoes, set them by the door, before crawling into the empty space by Lando. He’s quick to pull the covers over your bodies before his arms are around you and pulling you against him. 

“Missed this,” Lando mumbles softly into your hair, “missed you.” 

You hum softly, toying with the edge of the duvet. “Oh yeah?”

There’s a beat of silence much louder than your breathing. You’re too focused on the loose threads on the duvet, the feeling of the clumps of stuffing caused by a cheap dryer, much too focused on the less important things to see the way Lando raises his brow. 

“Yeah,” He replies, matter of factly. “Don’t believe me?” 

You shrug, poking your chin up as you stare at him. His eyes scan you, looking for a quiver of a muscle, something to tell him that you’re only poking fun at him. Instead, he sees the bit of heaviness in your eyes. 

You don’t believe him. 

There are questions that hang in the air, conversations that are much too honest for four in the morning. Neither of you pull the trigger on it, instead lay quietly by each other, soaking in the distrust and disbelief. But what was new? It has always been this way, this was you and Lando’s normal. Living a never ending cycle of doubt and mistrust, all the pushing and pulling, of fights left unresolved and conversations never had. Being with Lando meant living with uncertainty. Being in love with Lando meant wishing away that cons list and pretending that it doesn’t exist. Because at least– the very least– you’re here. 

Lando falls asleep moments later, snoring softly and holding you firm against him. He smells like soap, fresh linen, and just a hint of you. His skin is soft, littered with freckles and moles and the memory of the night behind you. You stare for a bit, count the lashes that lay on his cheek, pass the time as you debate in your mind if sleeping here was worth the way you would feel when he inevitably shows you out the next day. But then he squeezes you tighter. You feel his nose nuzzling into your hair, inhaling the scent of your shampoo. His body relaxes against you, and you suddenly feel whole. You feel like you belong. Maybe it was worth sticking it out. Maybe things would be different in the morning.

You fall asleep, regrettably comfortable and your heart relying on the maybes.

d rambles. . . i have wrestled with this fic for months because i honestly was trying to do way too much with it so i figured i'd post this and then post pt2. so this fic is p with very little plot- the plot to be found in the next part (hopefully). anyways i hope you all enjoy this and as always feedback is greatly appreciated. smooches!

oscar piastri is HIM. (sobs uncontrollably and throws fists at the wall)

oscar piastri who thought first about logan's DNF on the post race radio of his f3 championship win. oscar piastri who was worried about joining mclaren because his first thought was about how everyone loved daniel. oscar piastri who was overshadowed in his first sprint race win by max winning his third championship. oscar piastri who felt the need to apologize on the post race radio of his first f1 race win. oscar piastri who didn’t publicly post about an injury initially because he didn’t want people to pity him. oscar piastri who

I NEED THIS BIBLICALLY PLEASE

I DID SOMETHING ACCIDENTALLY 😭😭