Lucky Kisses

hihiiii carlos + 43 maybe? 😊

43. giving them a piggy-back ride

pairing: carlos sainz x friend!reader

DISCLAIMER: YOU ARE NOT A FAN OF HIKING.

It’s solid as a fact. Unmovable. Unchangeable. You simply cannot find the appeal of waking up in the crack ass of dawn to go on an uneven trail, only to reach the top, and then have to do it again. So, yeah, not a fan.

Carlos Sainz, however—childhood friend, sportsman, Formula One driver, annoying pain in the ass—is a fan of hiking.

And this wouldn’t normally be a problem. Carlos is an avid enjoyer of many things you don’t particularly have a fondness for, but it’s never been an issue. The problem here is that Carlos… he knows you too well. Because while you may not love hiking, he’s well-aware you do love taking pictures of pretty things.

Every time the two of you go out—regardless of whether it’s the city, the beach, the streets—he’s always stopping besides you, patiently waiting as you pull out your phone to snap a quick picture of whatever had caught your attention. Clouds, sunsets, birds on wires, pretty signs— you name it. Your phone’s storage is crying out for help.

And the truth is, you are weak. Because the pictures Carlos showed you of the view from the top were breathtaking. Truly, you caved way too easily.

(Beautiful sights and Carlos leaning close to you with those dumb, pretty, stupid doe eyes of his? It’s not like you’re made of ice.)

And while the sights awaiting you ahead were somewhat motivating, the climb certainly wasn’t.

“I hate you.”

Carlos chuckles. “No, you don’t.”

“No, I do. I really hate you.” You huff, feeling cold sweat between your shoulder blades. “Actually— no, I hate myself.”

Carlos rolls his eyes. “Stop being such a baby. You’ll get over it.”

“I’m dragging you to one of my dissertations next week— see if you love it as much.”

“Looking forward to it.”

“Ass.”

Carlos laughs, stepping over large roots that poke outside of the earth. He’s fast— why is he so fast?

“Watch your step.”

He gets a few paces ahead quickly, as if he’s doing it on purpose. Always so goddamn competitive. Your lips part to shoot something, but whatever you were gonna say dies on your tongue. You don’t mean to do it— it just happens. And before you can help it, your eyes are on Carlos’ ass.

Damn.

“Enjoying the view yet?”

Heat rushes to your cheeks. Your head snaps up. “Huh?”

“The view,” Carlos repeats, stopping as he turns to face you. You think you see the corner of a smirk on his lips. There’s mischief in his eyes that’s gone in a blink. “You can start to see the city from here.”

“Ah,” you manage, clearing your throat. “The city. Yeah.”

Carlos chuckles, shaking his head at you. “Come on,” he throws his head to the upcoming trail. “Only a little more to go.”

“Only a little,” you repeat under your breath. Your jaw twitches. “I’m Carlos Sainz, I’m so sporty and fit and I don’t even sweat,” you mutter in a high-pitched voice.

“What was that?” he calls from up ahead.

“I said you— SHIT!” you yelp, sneaker snagging on an overgrown root, sending you tumbling onto the dirt. You think you swallow a handful of twigs on your way down.

Great. Fantastic, actually.

“I told you to watch your step,” Carlos says helpfully.

“Okay, I’ve had about enough of you and your little—” You try to stand up, but pain shoots up your ankle. You promptly stay on the ground.

Carlos laughs, watching you slump onto the dirt. “Come on, bonita. You agreed we’d get to the end of the trail.”

You shake your head, rolling down your sock a little to get a better look. You grimace. “No, Carlos—fuck, I think I sprained my ankle.”

Carlos stares at you with a disbelieving look, mirth evident in his half smile. But then, the longer you stay on the ground, the faster his smile drops, and concern festers in its place.

“Ah, really?” He mutters a curse you don’t really catch. You hear him rush towards you before halting besides you. He kneels down, gesturing with his hand to bring your leg closer to him. “Okay, let me see.”

He presses the pads of his fingers onto your ankle, feeling around when his brows furrow. Whatever one-sided mischief he’d been enjoying earlier seems to be long gone. He gently presses against a sore spot, making you wince.

Carlos exhales. “Yeah, it’s definitely sprained. Come on.”

You watch as he turns his back to you, still crouching. You huff. “Carlos, I’m not getting on your back on a trail like this.”

“You are, because I don’t want you putting any more pressure on your ankle.”

You fold your arms over your chest. “Right, then you trip and we both end up injured? I don’t think so.”

He exhales loudly. “Preciosa,” he says, a warning in his tone.

You hate the warmth you feel in your gut whenever he calls you that. Bonita, preciosa, guapa. Even if it’s some dumb joke from when you were younger. Feeling flustered when your gorgeous friend calls you pretty as a nickname? Who’s gonna sue you, huh?

You shake your head. “I’m all sweaty and gross. You’re gonna drop me.”

His face twists as he looks at you over his shoulder. For a moment, he actually looks offended. “What? I am not gonna drop you.” You open your mouth to protest, but Carlos beats you to it, his jaw twitching. “Can you stop being stubborn for two minutes and just get on my back?”

“Fine. Moody.” You limp a little as you climb onto Carlos’ back. You breathe deeply as you place your legs around his buff torso, your arms around his neck.

“Hold on tight, okay? I don’t want you falling off,” he says quietly. You nod, even though he can’t see it. Carlos’ big hands curl around your thighs, and you have to swallow a squeak. You hold on to him a little tighter.

Carlos braces himself as he starts stepping down the trail. Your brows knit together. “Are we not reaching the top?”

“No.” There’s a finality to his voice, a sternness he so rarely uses with you. “We should get that ankle checked out as soon as possible. Make sure it’s nothing too serious,” Carlos says, tone indecipherable.

Your hand squeezes his shoulder, and Carlos tenses beneath you. “But—” You press your lips together. “It’s not that bad, I promise.”

He huffs, shaking his head. “You’re not even walking.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you decided to pick me up and throw me on top of you,” you retort, and you can feel heat crawling up Carlos’ neck.

His voice feels hoarser when he protests, “That’s not what I—”

“We came all this way already,” you interrupt. “I didn’t just break my leg to just see trees.”

“You didn’t break your leg,” Carlos says, rolling his eyes. You can hear a small smile forming on his lips.

“Exactly! Now, if you think you can carry me to through the last stretch…” you trail off. You’re tilting your head against his shoulder, feeling a breath that rumbles beneath his skin. Your hands around him tighten slightly. “I think I wanna see what the view looks like,” you murmur, a quiet admission.

Carlos stops his descend, as if weighing his options. You feel him swallow sharply.

You smile against his back, teasing. “Unless, of course, you think you can’t carry me all the way up and then down. Which, I mean, Carlos Sainz Jr, sportsman extraordinaire— Mr. I am amazing and competitive at every sport I—” You yelp as Carlos turns around sharply, making his way back up the trail.

“You told me you didn’t watch that interview,” he grumbles.

You grin. “I lied.”

You laugh into his shoulder as he mutters a string of words under his breath, fixing your arms around his neck. He adjusts his grip on your thighs, pushing you higher on his back.

“Joder. Las cosas que hago por ti.”

You bite down another laugh. You don’t know what gives you the confidence— maybe it’s the ridiculousness of the situation, the fact that Carlos’ thumb is unconsciously drawing small patterns on your leg, or the strange physical closeness. You’re still stifling your laugh when you lean into his ear and whisper, “You’re too easy.”

Carlos scoffs a laugh, a deep, rumbling sound beneath his skin. He turns his face near imperceptibly. Beautiful brown eyes glance at you with unbearable fondness. “Only for you.” He looks away just as quickly, and you pray to whatever god is up there that he can’t tell just how much those three words got to you.

“Let’s go get you that picture.”

a/n: yeah i’m sorry my biggest pet peeve in carlos fics is when spanish isn’t used appropriately (ESPECIALLY in terms of nicknames) so this is vindication :)

translations: bonita — pretty / preciosa — beautiful / guapa — gorgeous / joder. las cosas que hago por ti — fuck. the things i do for you.

HE DOESN’T WANT ME WHEN HE’S SOBER.

lando ending | logan ending

summary: lando’s your best friend but seems to like you when he’s drunk. but then again, he seems to like everyone when he’s drunk.

pairing: lando norris x gn!reader

wc: 1.5k

The music was too loud but Lando was so close that he didn’t need to alter his volume - he was talking at the perfect volume that only you could hear him. Each sentence was getting lower, deeper and quieter, but your own mind made him louder, filling up every space in it with replays of him. He was engrossing. He was all you could think about.

He almost dropped the cup in his hand as he took the final step closer, not that the cup would've mattered to him, his only concern would’ve been making sure you stay dry. Still, your throat turned dry at the little distance between you both; at the prospect of what was surely about to happen.

His free hand drifted to your jaw, holding it so delicately and manoeuvring your face gently to face up at him at the perfect angle for him to kiss you. When it was just right, and he could no longer remove his eyes from your lips, not even for a second, his hand moved to the back of your head, holding you in place.

He leaned down, oozing out confidence despite the absolute fear inside of him, and rested his forehead against yours. You had closed your eyes, expecting him to kiss you, but you opened them again when you realised he wasn’t, pulling away only slightly due to the hand on your head preventing it further.

“Lan,” you breathed, your tone showing everything that you weren’t saying, “What are you waiting for?”

His eyes were closed and he was breathing heavily like resisting kissing you was the hardest thing that he’d ever done in his life. “I’m just making sure you want this,” he paused, opening his eyes and flicking them between your eyes and your lips, “Do you want this?”

“Yes,” you responded instantly, your desperation being evident from miles away. He held back a chuckle and instead revelled in the fact that you wanted him just as much as he wanted you. “Please, Lan.”

“So polite,” he whispered, his voice low and hoarse. He titled your head again, bringing you impossibly closer. You could feel his shirt against your chest and his breathing on your face - there was no going back and you both knew it.

He was going to kiss you, he was leaning down, too slowly for your liking but it was happening and so you weren’t complaining. You felt a ghost touch against your lips - the slightest feeling - but it was there before being harshly ripped away in an instant.

“Mate! I’m going now, congrats on the podium,” Carlos said after walking up to Lando from behind, a hand on his back, the other one shaking his hand.

“Congrats on your win, more like it,” Lando replied, a half smile on his face, trying to be as genuine as possible and not show his annoyance that his moment was ruined.

Carlos looked towards you, about to share a goodbye with you, before noticing your dazed look and shifting between you and Lando as he noticed what was happening. “Shit- sorry, man- carry on, I’ll see you later, yeah?” he said, not letting either of you reply before wandering off, towards the door.

You both stood there frozen for a while, not speaking or moving, just staring into each other's eyes, begging the other for an answer.

Quickly, Lando had given up and stood up straight, looking into his cup and swirling what was left around. “I’m getting another drink, do you want anything?”

“No,” you said, barely audible and no longer looking at him or in his general direction. If you hadn’t shook your head as you spoke, he wouldn’t have known what you said and he really didn’t want to get into an awkward cycle of asking you to repeat yourself a few times before he finally heard you.

“I’ll find you,” was all he said as he left. You watched him as he cut through the crowds to the bar and ordered a drink and a shot, downing the shot the second that he got it.

He turned around and scanned the room, briefly meeting your eyes. You could tell he was debating whether to come back or not but you didn’t know what he decided as he began to stand up, so you made the decision for him and walked away to the side of the club, hopefully weaving through the tides of people enough that it would take a while for him to find you.

You ended up in one of the back corners of the club, pushing yourself into the wall so that people could squeeze past you and so you could people watch better. You were busying yourself giving strangers names and storylines, trying to distract yourself from whatever just happened, or could’ve happened, when you almost threw yourself to the floor in shock from a sudden hand waving in front of your face.

“Don’t jump - I was just trying to get your attention. I called your name a few times,” Alex said. You turned to look at him, slouching right next to you against the wall.

“Sorry, loud music,” you replied. It wasn’t a lie, the music was loud, but you could barely hear it over your thoughts whirring anyway. You watched Alex grimace and shake his head, somehow knowing it wasn’t the music distracting you.

“I saw,” he hummed as you took in a sharp intake of breath.

“I don’t-”

“You kissed him, finally, then what happened? Why are you all alone?” he questioned, his eyes scanning the place for Lando, knowing he’s not usually the type to leave you alone in places like this. He could tell you were upset and confused, and he needed to get to the bottom of it in order to work out whether he’d need to drive his car into Lando’s during the next race or not.

“No- he almost kissed me. Again. Carlos interrupted and he left. He left, Alex. Asked if I wanted a drink and left,” you spat, a mixture of uncertainty and anger clouding your voice. Why did he leave? He started it and left knowing exactly what was happening whilst leaving you with nothing - it was unfair.

Alex sighed. He wasn’t happy with Lando but knew what he felt for you and ultimately wanted to give him the chance to tell you without any mistakes.

“Maybe talk to him about it. He might just be unsure of where you’d like it to go-”

“He called the shots, Alex, he does it whenever he’s drunk, I don’t think he gets to be the confused one,” you sighed, looking at your feet. Alex paused and tried to think of another way to give Lando another chance to tell you how he feels without ruining it.

“Maybe talk to him when he’s sober. He’ll-”

“He doesn’t want me when he’s sober,” you whispered but wanted to scream. It hurt you to say it but you felt like it was true. Alex felt his breath hitch and his heart ache to scream at you that Lando does want you.

“That’s not right. Who wouldn’t want you?” he could see how it was affecting you and wanted nothing more than to make you feel better, but his train of thought was abandoned when he saw your body recoil into the wall in disgust.

He followed your eyeline to find Lando towards the middle of the room, kissing some girl that you had never seen before. He was leaning into her as if he’d die if he let go, and his hand was on the same place on the back of her head as it was on yours.

“Oh,” Alex said, not really knowing what else he could do. He was furious and wanted to mortify Lando in front of everyone in the room.

“Yeah, oh,” you repeated sarcastically. Your knees felt weak and your eyes were on the brink of bursting - it was impossible to hide if you tried. “I’m going to go home,” was all you could get out, your voice choking on every word.

You tried to convince yourself that you weren’t upset and rather you were disgusted but you couldn’t after the image of Lando sucking some other girl's face was plastered in your mind and you shed tears the whole way home. Lando didn’t know - in your mind he didn’t even care but as you were crying to Alex and Lily in an uber, he was looking for you everywhere. But as it hit him, the guilt and weight of what he’d done, and the realisation that you must’ve seen, he prayed that you’d let him explain, like he did every time this happened, whilst you would tell yourself, again, that you meant it this time; that he was too late.

lando ending | logan ending

Heat [Lando Norris x reader]

description: You almost pass out in the heat, but Lando helps you out.

It was a brutally hot race weekend. You weren’t used to this kind of heat. Besides, you were on your period, and the combination of these two made it difficult to eat a proper breakfast or lunch. You had no appetite, and you weren’t even feeling quite right all day.

Still, you knew Lando had it way worse. He was the one racing. The least you could do was not to complain. You didn’t even tell anyone how strange you felt, not wanting to make a fuss while your boyfriend had to sit in a burning hot car and drive.

You took a walk in the paddock with Lando’s best friend, Max Fewtrell. He also complained about the heat, but now he seemed fine, chugging a bottle of cold water and chilling in an air-conditioned room, waiting for the race to start. The two of you were chatting for a while, but now he was editing something on his phone, so you decided to scroll through social media to pass the time.

No, you weren’t feeling well. Everything started to blur a bit around the edges. Your vision dimmed for a second, and you could hear your heart drumming in your ears. You placed the phone on the table you were sitting at and buried your face into your palms, taking a few deep breaths.

 “Hey, Y/N, are you okay?” You felt someone touching your shoulder. Your brain felt foggy, but you had a vague guess that it was Max. You didn’t have the energy to reply.

 Your lack of response worried Max. “Uhm, do you want to grab a bottle of water from the cafeteria or something? You are so pale.”

 “I’m not sure,” you mumbled, your voice sounding foreign to your ears.

 “What do you mean? Come on, let’s go get something to drink. We have like twenty minutes before the race starts,” Max answered, and he grabbed your arms to help you up. He didn’t want to leave you unattended in a state like this. However, you lost your balance, so Max lowered you back on the barstool before the two of you would draw unwanted attention. “Come on, Y/N, Lando is going to kill me if you pass out on me,” he mumbled nervously.

That was when Lando decided to check on the two of you in the five spare minutes he got. When he spotted you in the corner of the room, he quickly realized that something was wrong. He walked over to the two of you. “Everything okay over here?” he asked, eyeing you with a mix of worry and confusion.

 “I don’t think so, mate,” Max answered, biting his lips. “I wanted to take her to the cafeteria, but I’m not sure she can walk- Or something.”

Lando saw how pale you were. Then he noticed that your hands were shaking slightly. His heart sank in his chest. It wasn’t the first time that you started feeling off at the beginning of your period, and the heat wasn’t helping you either. He wondered how much you ate all day.

He pulled out the barstool beside you and sat down, placing a comforting hand on your back. “Max, can you get her a bottle of water and a granola bar or something like that?” he asked, not taking his eyes off you for a second. He took your hand, his finger hovering over your wrist to feel your pulse.

Max sighed in relief as Lando finally took over the situation. He nodded and rushed off.

Lando gently squeezed your hand. “Come on, you’ll be alright,” he muttered softly. “Max will be here with something for you soon, alright?”

You heard his words, but you couldn’t register what he was saying. Lando hugged you to prevent you from falling off the barstool, and you leaned against his chest. He held you close and kissed your forehead. He tried to ignore the fact that you were in a public space, and there were probably plenty of eyes, maybe even cameras, watching the two of you.

You felt limp in his arms. He knew you were conscious, but he wasn’t sure how long you would be. He smoothed the hair out of your face. “Come on, you silly little thing,” he spoke gently. “Don’t pass out on me like this.”

Max was back in a couple of minutes, and he handed over everything to Lando. Your boyfriend took the water immediately, and he opened the bottle while still hugging you close to his chest. Then he placed the bottle to your mouth and tipped it lightly.

 “Just drink a little bit, okay? Small sips…” he said after realizing that you didn’t respond. As you felt the cool water on your mouth, you finally swallowed. Lando sighed in relief. For a second, he was sure you would pass out right there in his arms.

After you drank a few sips, the colour finally started to return to your face. Your vision slowly cleared up, and you realized you were leaning against Lando, so you pulled away. He was there, sitting next to you, his suit halfway zipped, watching you intently. He handed you the water bottle, seeing that now you were able to sit up somewhat straight.

 “Hey there,” he smiled a little as he reached out to rub your back. “You scared me for a second.”

That was the point when Lando’s engineer decided to find him personally when he didn’t return after the promised five minutes. “Man, everyone is looking for you,” he frowned at Lando.

 “I know, I’m sorry, mate. Y/N was a little unwell, I couldn’t leave her like that,” Lando turned away to answer.

Your cheeks heated up now that you were in the centre of attention.

Lando’s engineer didn’t seem convinced by your pale expression. “Does she need medical attention?”

 “I don’t think so,” Lando shook his head, and then he focused back on you. He opened the granola bar and placed it between your fingers. “Take a few bites. Do you think you’ll be able to get back on your feet?”

 “Why?” you frowned, confused. You had no intention to go anywhere.

 “I need to get back to work. Will you be fine with Max?” he asked. He didn’t want to leave you yet, but he knew staying wasn’t an option when the race was just about to start.

You nodded.

 “Good. Just eat your snack, drink the water, and stay in here. I’ll get you after I’m done.” He patted your knee and stood up. He took one last look at you before he hurried away.

You sighed as you watched him get in the car. You knew he was trained to deal with the heat, yet you couldn’t help but feel embarrassed. It wasn’t the first time you managed to almost pass out while he was doing perfectly fine.

You took a bite of the granola bar he handed you and watched him go.

tides of change

Lando Norris x Y/N

Summary : Lando and Y/N’s not so situationship had become the talk of everyone around them. It was clear to everyone but the two of them that their connection was something worth fighting for. The question on everyone’s lips: When will Lando finally stop holding back and risk it all?

Words : 4.1k

Warnings : swearing, mentions of sex, poorly translated french

It was a rainy day in Monaco, the kind of weather that made everything feel a little slower. The usual buzz of the city was muffled by the constant drizzle, and the three friends—Lando, Max, and Charles—found themselves on a paddle court, looking for a way to pass the time during their break.

Sweaty and winded from their last round, the trio stood around, sipping on drinks, exchanging small talk about the upcoming season. Max, ever the competitive one, wiped his brow with a towel, giving Lando a smirk. "I think you might be getting worse, mate."

Charles finally looks up from his phone after being preoccupied for the past few minutes. "Lando, Y/N is here?"

"Yeah, she got in last morning. Why?" Lando nods, still catching his breath from the last game.

Charles grins and pockets his phone. "Alex just texted me—she just found out today. You should invite her to join us on the yacht. It's supposed to be a clear day tomorrow."

Lando raises an eyebrow. "Who else is coming?"

"Couple of other friends, Carlos and Rebecca too."

Lando smirks, glancing over at Max. "Max?"

"Nah, mate," Max chimes in, wiping his face with a towel. "Don't think being out at sea would help with Kelly's morning sickness." He laughs lightly, clearly trying to keep the mood light, but there’s a genuine care in his tone.

Lando’s grin softens, and he nods. "Fair enough. I’ll let Y/N know then."

"Speaking of which... what's ugh, going on with you two? Finally asked her out?" Max smirks, leaning back against the wall.

A small smirk crept up on Lando’s face, but he quickly took a swig from his bottle, picking up his racket as if the question never happened. "Are we playing another round or what?"

"Well, that’s a clear no," Charles laughs, crossing his arms.

Max raises an eyebrow, clearly enjoying this. "You idiot, how long has this situationship been a thing for now? Two seasons?"

Lando freezes for a second, then points a finger at Max. "First of all, don’t ever use ‘situationship’ again. Sounds weird coming from you." He shrugs nonchalantly. "And... we’re just friends."

Charles snickers. "Friends who kiss every now and then—"

Max jumps in. "And sleep together."

Lando's eyes widen slightly. "Hey, that’s not—"

"So you haven’t?" Max presses, his grin growing.

Lando bites his lip, trying to hide the grin spreading across his face. He glances at Charles, who’s trying to suppress a laugh.

"Oh, they definitely have," Charles chimes in, his voice teasing.

Lando glares at them, but it’s no use—he can’t help the flush creeping up his neck. "Alright, alright, enough."

"I've had a couple of friends ask me about her, mate." Charles pats Lando’s shoulder before casually walking back to his side of the court. "Come on, one more before we head home."

Lando blinks. "Wha— Which friends?" His grip tightens slightly on his racket, trying to sound indifferent but failing miserably.

Charles exchanges a knowing look with Max, the kind that screams look at this idiot, so oblivious. Max just smirks.

"Doesn't matter who" Charles shrugs, stretching his arms as if he hadn’t just dropped a bombshell. "Just thought I’d let you know. Do with the information as you will."

Lando opens his mouth, then closes it, frowning slightly. His mind is already racing through the possibilities, but before he can press further, Max serves the ball, forcing him to refocus.

But even as they dive back into the game, the thought lingers.

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

The sound of Lando's keys hitting the table broke Y/N's gaze from the screen in front of her. She glanced over to see him standing by the door, bag still slung over his shoulder, hair slightly damp from a mix of sweat and rain.

"How was paddle with Max and Charles?" she asked, shifting her focus back to the movie playing in front of her.

"Good. Max lost, of course." Lando smirked, toeing off his shoes before flopping down beside her. He hesitated for a moment before clearing his throat. "Hey, uhm— you busy tomorrow?"

"Mmm, not really. Kinda wanted to walk around and shop for a bit. Why, what's up?"

Lando ran a hand through his damp curls. "Charles is inviting us on his yacht tomorrow with Alex and a couple of their friends. Carlos and Rebecca are coming too, I heard."

Y/N hummed in thought, eyes still on the screen, but Lando barely noticed. His fingers fidgeted with the hem of his shirt as he forced himself to sound casual. He wasn’t sure why he was nervous—he was just inviting his best friend to hang out with their other friends. They all knew each other already.

So why did it feel like something more?

"Sure, yeah, that actually sounds fun. Haven’t seen them in a while," Y/N said, shooting Lando a soft smile.

Relieved, Lando let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He barely had time to react before Y/N’s fingers slid through his damp curls, her touch light and familiar.

"You should shower," she murmured. "You’re gonna get sick."

Lando smirked, tilting his head just enough to press a featherlight kiss to her wrist. "Join me?"

Y/N laughed, gently but firmly pushing his head away. "Dork. We both said no more, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah… I tried," he chuckled, pushing himself up from the couch. As he passed, he reached down to poke her cheek, grinning when she swatted at his hand.

It was true—what Charles and Max suspected. They’d kissed. And, yeah, they’d definitely slept together. More than once. But somewhere along the way, between shared hotel rooms, late-night confessions, and stolen moments, they both agreed that this—whatever this was—couldn’t be more. Not now. Not when Lando was constantly on the move, when their friendship was the one thing they both swore they’d never risk.

So they stayed just that—friends.

At least, that’s what they kept telling themselves.

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

"Cabrón! It's been too long! Have you grown taller?" Carlos' voice rang out, loud enough to make nearly everyone aboard the yacht turn their heads.

Lando laughed, shaking his head as he walked over. "You muppet, I saw you last week." He pulled Carlos into a quick hug before stepping back and motioning toward Y/N, who stood just behind him. "Look who I brought."

Carlos' face lit up. "Ahh… mi novia’s novia. Good to see you, Y/N." Without hesitation, he pulled her into a tight hug, rocking her slightly for dramatic effect.

Before she could fully recover, Charles appeared beside them, grinning as he leaned in to greet her with a cheek kiss. "She's also my girlfriend’s girlfriend," he added, giving Lando a teasing look.

"Y/N is the nation's girlfriend," Carlos announced, laughing as he patted her shoulder. Then, with a wicked smirk, he leaned toward Lando, lowering his voice just enough.

"Except yours."

Lando rolled his eyes, exhaling sharply through his nose, but the warmth creeping up his neck betrayed him. Carlos just smirked wider.

"Too much testosterone. Where are my ladies?" Y/N teased, glancing around the deck in search of her friends.

"Oh, they're inside getting changed," Charles said, nodding toward the doors leading into the yacht.

"Perfect. I’ll see you boys later then." She gave them a small wave before heading off, disappearing through the doors with an easy grace.

Lando’s eyes lingered on her retreating figure, something he wasn’t even aware of until he heard the soft chuckles beside him. He turned to find Carlos and Charles exchanging a knowing look before shaking their heads in amusement.

"What now?" Lando sighed, already bracing himself.

"I just don’t get it," Charles said, crossing his arms. "I really don’t."

"Get what?"

Carlos exhaled dramatically, giving Lando a pointed look. "Why you like punishing yourself like this. Like a fucking sadist."

Charles nodded in agreement. "You clearly like each other."

Lando shook his head, sliding his sunglasses on as if they could shield him from the conversation. "Not that simple."

"Oh, but it is," Carlos countered, arms crossed. "It’s not like you haven’t been in a relationship before, so I know for a fact it’s not commitment issues on your end."

Charles tilted his head. "She doesn’t want to?"

"It’s not that." Lando exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "It just… doesn’t work. We've tried"

Carlos narrowed his eyes. "Tried what, exactly?"

Lando hesitated, jaw tightening slightly. "Just the whole distance thing. Me being away all the time. And then there’s the hate she’s gonna get when people find out. I can’t do that to her." His voice was quieter now, but firm. "She’s already getting shit just for being friends with me."

Charles and Carlos exchanged a look, their teasing fading into something more serious. For all the jokes, they knew Lando wasn’t just making excuses. But still, Carlos shook his head with a sigh.

"You know, if you ever stop being an idiot, I think she’d be worth it."

Lando huffed a small, almost bitter laugh. "Yeah," he muttered. "I know."

"If not, I mean, I got friends that are interested," Charles shrugged, all casual, but the glint in his eye said otherwise.

Lando chuckled, but there was an edge to it, a slight tightness in his voice. "See, you keep saying that, but I think you're just doing it to provoke me."

Charles smirked but stayed silent.

Carlos, however, turned to him with a knowing look. "Who? Luca?"

Charles' brows lifted in surprise before he gave Carlos an approving nod. "Yeah."

Lando’s expression shifted in an instant. His sunglasses did nothing to hide the way his jaw clenched. "Who the fuck is Luca?"

"Like I said… a friend," Charles smirked, enjoying this way too much.

"Don’t fuck with me right now, Leclerc." Lando’s head snapped around as he scanned the yacht, shoulders growing visibly tense. "He’s here?"

Carlos chuckled, clapping a hand on Lando’s back. "Calm down, cabrón. Y/N is available, no?"

Lando shot him a glare before rolling his eyes. "You two are dicks."

Charles and Carlos only laughed, sharing a look before Carlos added, "Just saying, if you don’t want her to be, maybe do something about it."

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

The yacht had sailed further into the open ocean, the hours melting away in a blur of sun, salt, and laughter. Everyone had split into their own little group, swimming, chatting, drinking. But as lunchtime rolled around, they all gathered around the spread of food laid out on deck.

Y/N sat at a smaller table in the corner with Rebecca and Alex, the three of them deep in conversation. Lando strolled over, wordlessly setting a small pouch in front of her along with a glass of water.

"Medicine’s in there. Take one, okay?" He gave her head a light pat before turning on his heel and walking off to grab some food for himself, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Rebecca and Alex exchanged confused looks, both raising an eyebrow as they glanced between Y/N and the small pouch Lando had left behind. Neither of them knew what he meant by "medicine," and the whole exchange seemed a bit mysterious.

Y/N noticed their concerned gazes and let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. She pulled out a row of antihistamine pills from the pouch, holding them up. "Sometimes shellfish makes my allergies act up. It’s really nothing too serious, but it’s better not to risk it."

Alex’s expression softened in understanding, though she still looked a little taken aback. "Ah, makes sense," she nodded, her voice light "And of course... Lando is on top of it"

Rebecca let's out a soft laugh as she shakes her head "You're just as oblivious as he is you know, it's cute and funny at the same time"

"Guys... come on. We agreed to not talk about this"

Rebecca nods and holds her hands up in surrender "Mhmm alright, we'll let you figure it out on your own"

"What are you girls gossiping about this time huh?" Carlos walks over with Lando and Charles, plates of food and drinks in hand as their took their respective seats around the table

"Nothing you boys need to worry about," Alex smiles.

"Ah, donc rien à voir avec le fait que quelqu'un nie ses vrais sentiments pour quelqu'un, hein ?" Charles tilts his head, looking over at Y/N as he takes a bite of his food (Ah, so it has nothing to do with anyone denying their true feelings for someone, huh?)

"Espèce de bâtard sournois, Alex t'en a parlé ?" Y/N’s mouth dropped open, her eyes flicking between the two of them. (You sneaky bastard, did Alex tell you?)

"Non ! Je jure que je n'ai rien dit !" Alex quickly defended herself. (No! I swear I didn't say anything!)

"S'il vous plaît, c'est tellement évident. Je pense que tout le monde peut le dire rien qu'en vous regardant tous les deux," Charles smirked, making Alex chuckle beside him as she nodded her head in agreement, while the rest of the table fell into conversations of their own. (Please, it's so obvious. I think everyone can tell just by looking at the two of you)

"Il a pété un câble quand je lui ai dit qu’un pote était intéressé par toi. Tu sais que les potes normaux réagissent pas comme ça, hein ?" Charles goes on, raising an eyebrow as he watches Y/N’s reaction. (He freaked out when I told him a friend was interested in you. You know normal friends don't react like that, right?)

Y/N simply shakes her head and continues to eat, it wasn't until Charles continues to egg on his theory

"Il ne comprend pas un mot de ce que je dis, mais regarde ça." Charles straightens up, a mischievous glint in his eyes as if preparing to prove a point. "Tout ce que j’ai à faire, c’est dire le nom de Luca, et ça attire son attention." (He doesn’t understand a word I’m saying, but look at this.) (All I have to do is say Luca's name, and it gets his attention)

Right on cue, Lando’s head whips around, his conversation forgotten as his ears latch onto the familiar name. Confusion flickers across his face, caught completely off guard by the sudden mention.

"Dickhead" Y/N mutters with a laugh, shaking her head as she stands up, plate in hand, and makes her way toward the buffet table for more food.

Lando is on his feet almost instantly, trailing after her without a second thought. Whatever she and Charles were talking about, he needs to know.

"So, he told you about Luca, huh?" Lando leans against the table, arms crossed as he watches her pick through the food. His voice is casual—too casual.

Y/N sighs, shaking her head. Charles really wasn’t exaggerating. Of course Lando took the bait. "Lan, he was just fucking with you."

His eyes narrow slightly. "So you're not at all interested in this Luca guy?"

She pauses, glancing at him with a teasing smirk. "What if I was?"

Lando blinks at her, completely dumbfounded. His mouth opens slightly, but no words come out as he tries to process what he just heard. "What do you mean?"

Y/N shrugs, casually placing a piece of food on her plate. "What if I was interested? What’s it to you?" She glances at him, eyes challenging. "Like you said, we’re just friends, remember?"

His stomach twists uncomfortably. That is what he said. But suddenly, he’s not so sure he meant it.

Y/N simply tuts, a knowing smirk playing on her lips as she brushes past him. As she does, her fingers trail lightly along his arm, the touch barely there but enough to send a spark straight through him.

"Just something to think about," she murmurs before walking away, leaving Lando standing there—plate forgotten, mind racing, and heart pounding just a little too fast.

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

Lando lounged on a sunbed, sunglasses on, deep in conversation with Carlos when Rebecca’s voice cut through the chatter.

“Looking good, Y/N! That set is gorgeous on you!”

Mid-sentence, Lando sat up slightly, resting on his elbows as his gaze searched for her.

And then he saw her.

Not just in any bikini—no, a papaya one. His colour. He almost swore she wore it just for him.

Lando barely had time to recover from the way Y/N’s laugh sent a shiver down his spine before she sat beside him, all sweet smiles and knowing eyes. He saw right through her. She was playing with him, enjoying the way she had him wrapped around her finger.

And damn, was it working.

Before he could say anything, Charles strolled by, some guy trailing behind him.

“Y/N, this is my friend Luca. He’s been asking non-stop about you. Thought it was time I introduce the two of you.”

Lando’s jaw tightened, fingers twitching against the sunbed. You have got to be kidding me.

Y/N stood to greet Luca, and the guy wasted no time leaning in for a cheek kiss. Normally, Lando wouldn’t care—his friends did it all the time. But this? Some random guy he didn’t know? Absolutely not.

“Nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard such great things,” Luca said with a grin. “I see you around a lot, just… not with the right team.”

Lando’s eyes narrowed behind his sunglasses.

Y/N laughed. “Ah, yeah! I’ve seen you with Charles and Alex a few times.”

“So how long are you in Monaco this time? For good, I hope?”

“I wish. This place is amazing, but I have to go back to England next week—work calls. I’ll be back by the end of the month, though.”

Luca smiled. “Then we have some time to go out before you leave?”

Lando sat up fully, sunglasses pushed to the top of his head. Was this some kind of sick joke? Asking her out—right in front of him? His blood boiled.

No. Absolutely not.

Lando didn’t even hesitate. “Actually, no, we’re busy. Got plans this week.”

Carlos, instantly catching on, barely held in his laughter—though his girlfriend didn’t bother hiding her amusement, giving him a light slap on the arm.

Y/N turned to Lando, eyebrows raised. “We do?”

“Yep,” he answered smoothly, leaning back like he hadn’t just pulled that excuse out of thin air. “Max and P are coming over to stay with us, remember? Got some activities lined up. Sorry, mate.”

The only problem? Now he actually had to find things to do and start booking these non-existent activities.

Luca frowned slightly. “Oh—well… when you come back from England, then?”

“Sounds good,” Y/N started, “I’ll ask Charles for your—”

“Naaah,” Lando cut in again, shaking his head. “Doesn’t work either, mate. We’re heading to Italy when she gets back.”

Y/N blinked. “We are?”

“Yes. Was supposed to be a surprise. Surprise!” Lando shot her a grin, ignoring the way Carlos was now openly laughing beside him.

Just off to the side, Charles leaned toward Alex, voice low. "S'il vous plaît, laissez-moi le sortir de sa misère." (Please let me put him out of his misery.)

Luca could only laugh, shaking his head as he held up his hands in surrender.

“Alright, got it, mate. All yours.”

Lando didn’t bother hiding his smirk, satisfied with the outcome.

Y/N narrowed her eyes, dragging Lando toward a quieter part of the yacht, away from prying eyes. His smug smirk only made her more irritated.

“What the fuck was that, Norris?” she snapped, arms crossed.

Lando barely flinched, still grinning. “What, you don’t wanna go to Italy? Greece more your style? Oh! How about Ibiza—”

She didn’t let him finish, landing a solid punch to his arm.

“Ow!” Lando winced, clutching his arm. “Forgot how strong you are.”

“Stop playing with me. I know there’s no Italy trip.”

“There is!”

“Bullshit.”

He exhaled, dropping the act. “Fine! I just… You can’t go out with him, Y/N.”

Her expression softened for a moment before tilting her head, arms still crossed. “And why’s that?”

Lando ran a hand through his curls, avoiding her gaze for a second before finally meeting her eyes.

“That’s so unfair, Lando, and you know it,” Y/N shot back, arms tightening over her chest. “You’ve gone out with other girls, and you didn’t hear shit from me.”

“No—that’s different,” Lando argued, shaking his head.

“Oh, it is different,” she scoffed. “Because I haven’t been sleeping around with other people since what happened between us.”

His eyes widened. “But I haven’t!”

“Oh, don’t give me that shit—do you want me to drop names?”

Lando opened his mouth, then shut it just as fast. He let out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “…Alright, fine.”

“Doesn’t mean I have feelings for them,” he added quickly, voice softer this time.

Y/N let out a dry laugh, shaking her head. “Awe, how fucking romantic.”

Lando felt his stomach drop. The teasing, the back-and-forth—it all came to a screeching halt the second Y/N let her emotions slip through.

She sank onto the sofa, fingers threading through her hair, exhaling like she was tired—tired of him, tired of this.

“We can’t keep doing this, Lan,” she murmured, voice quieter now. “This whole ordeal is fucking exhausting. If you really want this, you can have me. But you can’t just want some of it. Take all of it. The good and the bad.”

She finally looked up at him, eyes searching his face. “I can’t stand having just some of you. I need all of you.”

Lando swallowed hard, his heart hammering against his ribs. Because the truth was, she already had all of him. Always had. He just needed to say it.

Lando dropped to his knees in front of her, his hands gently finding hers, squeezing them with a tenderness that spoke louder than words ever could.

“Hey… pretty girl, look at me, please?” he whispered, his voice soft but full of sincerity.

Y/N rolled her eyes, but despite herself, her gaze met his. The rawness in his eyes caught her off guard. For the first time in a long while, she saw him again—the guy she fell so deeply in love with, the man she’d been willing to risk everything for.

“You have all of me,” Lando said, his voice barely above a whisper. “This time, I promise… we’ll make it work. I’ll make this work. You deserve the world, Y/N. I’ll make it up to you... if you’d give me another chance.”

Her heart skipped a beat, but a quiet part of her still hesitated. It felt too good to be true. But his words… his honesty? It was enough to break through.

Y/N took a slow breath, searching his eyes for any sign of doubt. There was none.

Slowly, she squeezed his hands back. “You better not make me regret this, Lando.”

Lando nodded almost immediately, his eyes lighting up with a joy so pure it made Y/N’s heart skip a beat. “I promise,” he said, voice full of conviction. “We’ll take it slow. We’ll do things right this time.”

Y/N let out a soft sigh, her emotions swirling as she processed his words. After a beat, she gave him a small, hesitant nod.

Without another word, Lando pulled her into his arms, locking her in a tight embrace. The way he held her felt urgent, like he was afraid of losing her again. They clung to each other as if the world outside didn’t exist, as if nothing mattered but this moment.

“I know we said to take things slow… but I’m dying to kiss you right now,” Lando murmured against her neck, his breath warm and shaky.

The words made Y/N laugh softly, her fingers tracing the side of his jaw as she pulled back just enough to meet his gaze.

She cupped his face in her hands, her thumbs gently grazing his skin, before she leaned in and pressed her lips to his. It was slow, a kiss that held all the passion, all the longing they’d kept buried. The world outside disappeared as they lost themselves in each other, the kiss a promise of what was to come.

Lando was the first to pull away, chuckling softly as he did. “We can’t… I don’t think I can control myself if we keep going.”

Y/N felt a blush creep up her cheeks, her heart racing from the kiss. She placed one last soft kiss on his cheek before pulling him back into another hug, as if holding him was the only thing that could steady her.

"Greece sounds good..." she muttered quietly, her words almost lost in the moment.

Lando pulled away slightly, brows furrowed as he looked at her, not quite catching what she said. “What was that, baby?”

“Greece,” Y/N repeated with a smile tugging at her lips. “I said Greece sounds good.”

Lando’s face lit up with a grin, the tension in his chest easing as he nodded. “Greece it is. Anything for my girl.”

Can you please write kimi antonelli fluff🙏

summary: It’s supposed to be their first real date, but nothing goes to plan—except how he looks at you like you hung the stars.

content: Pure fluff, soft awkward romance, first-date sweetness, hand-holding, cuddling, Kimi being a nervous wreck but trying really hard

word count: 5,5k

pairing: kimi antonelli x fem!reader

a thought: thank you for the request anon! i hope this is fluffy enough hehe also thank god i was prepared for this one

You hear the knock before you’re even done fixing your sweater—two quick taps and one long. Familiar. Practiced. When you open the door, Kimi’s there, holding out a single daisy like it’s the most important gift in the world.

“It’s kind of wrinkled,” he says quickly, “I didn’t mean for it to get squished. I was holding it the whole way over. I didn’t want to put it in my pocket. It felt like… like it’d get lonely in there.”

He’s rambling. Adorably.

You take it gently, brushing his fingers by accident—he freezes like you’ve short-circuited him, then blinks fast and laughs under his breath, clearly trying not to combust.

“You look really…” He gestures vaguely, his voice softening. “Like someone who’s about to be complimented really badly, so maybe I’ll just stop.”

You try to respond coolly, but your cheeks give you away.

He’s clearly dressed up—new shoes, slightly-too-crisp shirt, hair that smells faintly like something expensive and piney, gelled just enough to look natural. It’s obvious he tried. For you. Like he wanted every tiny part of tonight to say, this matters.

The reservation’s gone when you get there.

He panics.

“I triple confirmed it,” he mumbles, shoulders tensing. “I set a reminder and everything. I even printed a backup email, who prints emails anymore—”

You slip your hand around his elbow. “Hey. It’s okay. Honestly, I’d rather just… wander with you.”

He blinks. “Really?”

You nod. “Really really.”

You end up back at your apartment, shedding shoes and expectations at the door. He hesitates on the threshold like he’s entering a holy space, eyes wide, hands politely still at his sides like he doesn’t want to touch anything unless he’s invited.

“You can sit,” you say, gently amused. “It’s not, like, a museum.”

He laughs nervously and perches on the edge of the couch, hands folded like he’s a kid in a waiting room. You sit beside him, and only then does he breathe out properly, like your presence is the real invitation.

“I’m gonna order pizza,” you say, reaching for your phone. “Any topping requests?”

“Whatever you like,” he says instantly. Then, after a beat: “Wait. No. Not pineapple. Unless you like pineapple. In which case, I can learn to like pineapple.”

You nudge his knee with yours. “No pineapple. You’re safe.”

You order something easy, something warm and cheesy and guaranteed to arrive in thirty minutes or less. By the time the pizza gets there, he’s taken off his shoes and curled one leg under himself like he’s slowly allowing himself to be comfortable here—with you.

The box lands on the coffee table with a satisfying thump. You bring over sodas and napkins and sit back beside him, legs brushing as you both lean in for a slice at the same time, almost knocking heads.

“Sorry—!” he laughs, backing up. “I swear I wasn’t going for a romantic pizza Lady-and-the-Tramp moment.”

“…Wasn’t?” you tease, raising an eyebrow.

He blinks. Then grins. “Okay. Maybe I was a little bit hoping for it.”

You bump shoulders and settle in, the pizza hot in your hands and the air filled with that easy silence only shared between people who really like each other. On the TV, a nature documentary plays quietly in the background, all soft narration and slow pans of forest animals. You’re both barely watching.

Eventually, you lean into him—just a little. His arm shifts, then lifts, tentative but hopeful.

You glance up at him.

“Is this okay?” he asks softly, already halfway into wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

You nod, heart fluttering. “It’s better than okay.”

So he pulls you close. And you lean into his chest, warm and secure and smelling like pine and pizza and Kimi. His fingers play absently with the edge of your sleeve, brushing back and forth in the tiniest motion like he has to be touching you, even if it’s barely anything.

“I like this better,” he says eventually, voice quiet against your hair.

“Better than the reservation?”

“Better than everything,” he murmurs.

Your hand finds his where it rests on your shoulder. He squeezes, just once.

The night melts away in soft conversation, shared warmth, and the occasional slice of cold pizza you both pretend is still good. By the time you’re lying together on the couch, barely keeping your eyes open, he’s whispering something you can barely hear:

“Do you think... we could do this again?”

You smile, drowsy and safe.

You don’t know when the TV got turned off or how long it’s been since the last slice was touched. The apartment has gone quiet except for the hum of the fridge and the steady rhythm of his breathing.

You’re tucked into his side, his arm around you like it belongs there—and maybe it does.

Kimi’s head has tilted a little, resting gently against yours, his lashes fluttering now and then like he’s fighting sleep but losing, slowly. His body is warm under yours, chest rising and falling in a way that makes you feel like the world might actually be a soft place, just for tonight.

Your fingers drift upward before you think too hard about it, brushing gently into his hair—soft and a little messy now, no longer gelled into place, just warm strands that slip through your hand like silk.

He makes a small sound, not quite a word. A hum. His eyes flutter open, just for a second, then close again, this time with a deeper breath like he’s letting go completely.

“You’re gonna make me fall asleep right here,” he mumbles.

“You already are.”

He smiles, just barely, the kind of smile that only shows when someone feels completely safe. “Keep doing that. It feels nice.”

You keep running your fingers through his hair, slow and easy, scratching lightly at his scalp, letting your nails drag in lazy circles near the nape of his neck. He melts under it, breath hitching a little when you hit a good spot.

“Okay,” he whispers, not even trying to hide how much he likes it. “Okay, you’re dangerous.”

You huff a quiet laugh. “Dangerous?”

“Yeah. You’ve got… sleepy spell powers or something.”

He shifts just slightly, enough to nuzzle into your shoulder like it’s the only place he ever wants to be. One of his hands finds yours, linking your fingers loosely, like even in half-sleep he wants to make sure you’re not going anywhere.

You don’t say anything else—not because there’s nothing to say, but because this moment already says it all. The quiet warmth of shared closeness. The gentle weight of his head against you. The hush of a night ending with someone choosing to stay—not because they have to, but because there’s nowhere else they’d rather be.

You keep playing with his hair until his breathing evens out completely.

And even then, you don’t stop.

Milo is Lowkey Jealous & Protects Daddy Like a Boss

Lando Norris x Son!Milo Norris

Lando’s standing there, chatting with a lady reporter about how the race went, answering questions about his performance and strategy with that usual confident, cheeky grin of his. You know, professional stuff. It’s all going smoothly until his youngest son, Milo, spots the interviewer, and his whole little face lights up with confusion.

Milo’s been watching Lando on TV forever, so he knows his dad’s famous and that people talk to him a lot. But this lady? She’s definitely got Milo’s full attention, and not in a good way.

So while Lando's in the middle of a conversation about tire strategies, Milo wanders over, looking way too serious for a five-year-old, and yanks at his dad’s sleeve like, “Hey, I’ve got questions, too.”

Milo: “Daddy… who’s that lady?”

Lando glances down at him with a soft laugh, trying to stay composed for the interview.

Lando: “She’s just asking me questions about the race, buddy. You know, the stuff I do for my job.”

Milo, narrowing his eyes: “Does Mummy know her?”

Lando can’t help but smile, half amused, half surprised by how seriously Milo takes these things.

Lando: “Yep, Mummy knows her. She’s just asking about the race.”

But Milo’s not buying it. He looks at the lady again like she’s an intruder and crosses his little arms, clearly not impressed.

Milo: “Okay… but why is she talking to you? Is she your friend?”

The Interviewer, trying to keep it professional but laughing a little: “Well, I think your dad’s racing is so exciting, I just had to ask him about it!”

Milo gives her a suspicious glance, then glances back at Lando, lips pressed in a firm line. He leans in close, as if he’s cracked some big code about the whole thing.

Milo: “I don’t think she’s your friend. I think she just likes talking to you. Maybe she wants to race with you.”

Lando, trying to stifle a laugh, crouches down so he’s on Milo’s level.

Lando: “Nah, buddy, she’s not here to race with me. She just wants to know about the track and how I’m doing out there.”

Milo, now looking more like he’s trying to solve a mystery, nods slowly, still not sure about this whole “lady asking dad questions” thing. He gives one more intense look at the reporter, then at Lando.

Milo: “Okay, you can talk to her, but... when we’re done, you need to tell Mummy about her. Mummy knows all the things.”

Lando (laughing): “I promise, Milo. I’ll tell Mummy all about it when we get home.”

Milo, looking more convinced now, steps back, still giving the lady the side-eye.

Milo: “Okay. But if she does anything bad, I’m telling Mummy. She won’t like it.”

The interviewer, clearly charmed, leans down to Milo’s eye level and puts on her best reassuring smile.

The Interviewer: “Don’t worry, Milo. I’m just asking your daddy about racing. Nothing bad at all, I promise.”

Milo looks her up and down one more time, like he’s making sure she’s being truthful, then nods to himself. Job done. He turns and walks off to find Mummy, but not before shooting Lando one last look like, “I’m watching you, Dad.”

Later that night, after dinner, Milo can’t contain his story about the lady who was talking to Daddy.

Milo: “Mummy, guess what? That lady at the race today? She wasn’t Daddy’s friend. I know she wasn’t. She was talking to Daddy, but I think she just likes him, okay? She doesn’t even know you. But don’t worry, I told Daddy to tell you all about her when we got home.”

Mummy trying to hide her smile: “Oh, really? What else did you tell him?”

Milo: “I told him, ‘If she does anything bad, I’m telling you.’ I had to look at her like this,”Milo makes a suspicious face, arms crossed, “because she didn’t even ask about me. I was right there. But Daddy said it’s okay. Mummy knows all the things, right?”

Mummy,smiling and ruffling his hair: “I do know all the things, my little protector. And thank you for keeping an eye out for me.”

Milo's mission: protect Daddy from talking to other women, successfully completed.

lucky charm

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: lando finds comfort in your presence as doubt starts to creep in before a race (2k)

warnings: minimal swearing

a/n: hi i know i'm still super new here and i'm not even sure if i'm actually going to start writing rpf but i think about this motherfucker 24/7 now and this came to me in a dream <3 let's ignore the actual way he got his ring necklace okay? okay!

“No one saw you come in, right?” 

Lando let the door close behind him gently, a total opposite to the quickest few steps you’d ever seen him take across the small driver’s room, and he leaned over to kiss you, hard. 

You let out a squeak of surprise at the force of it, but had no hesitation in kissing him back as soon as your body caught up with your brain, arms looping around his neck to bring him down and closer to you.

Lando’s knees hit the cushions on either side of you, hands doing the same on the leather backrest, clumsy as all hell but twice as determined not to let his mouth leave yours. 

Your fingers knocked the McLaren cap right off his head as they moved into his hair, clutching at his chocolate curls on instinct like you’d done so many times before. But never here, never before one of Lando’s races, and certainly never at the risk of being caught by anyone in the facility at any given moment. 

It didn’t seem to matter to Lando, though, with the way he was kissing you like he was parched and you were the only thing that could quench his thirst. 

But given the rather frantic series of texts you’d received from him that got you here in the first place, you weren’t at all too surprised. You knew how nervous Lando got before races, and if there was something you could do, you’d never hesitate to be there for him. Especially since you were able to make it to this one. 

“Yeah,” He mumbled between kisses, panting against your lips. Somehow he’d managed to switch positions so he was the one on the sofa now and you were sitting on his lap, straddling his hips as you continued your rather sloppy makeout session. “Yeah, yeah, we’re good. ‘M sneaky like that.” 

“Had a lot of practice at this, have you?” 

“No!” It was almost comical how fast he pulled away from you to blurt out his answer. “No, not at all. I don’t know why I said that, I—” 

“I was just kidding, bub.” You chuckled, smoothing the pad of your thumb across his kiss-swollen bottom lip fondly. Lando grinned sheepishly, giving your waist a playful little pinch. You’d never get over the way he looked at you, like you were the only other person to exist in the world—especially when he was under you like this, and especially with those eyes. His baby cow eyes, you always called them. 

Even so, Lando was extremely tense, you could tell. He tended to get very in his head before races, probably why he asked you to come meet him so close to the green flag, to help him quell his nerves a little. He always said you helped him more than anything else ever could. 

“I have something for you.” You said softly. 

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?” He leaned back against the cushion, happily accepting the chaste kiss you pressed to his lips before you bounced off his lap and over to where your bag was sitting. 

You rummaged around in it for a few moments until you found what you were looking for, a triumphant grin on your face as you made your way back over to an intrigued Lando. This time you settled next to him, throwing your legs across his lap. His hand came to rest on your knee immediately. 

“Open it.” You urged, pressing the small black bag into his waiting palm. He undid the drawstring carefully, beaming even before he got a look at what was inside. That smile only grew bigger as he poured the contents of the bag into his hand. 

A thin silver chain, joined together at the ends with two interlocking rings, sleek and silver just like the rest of the necklace. Upon closer inspection, he saw numbers etched into the inside of each one. One of them, Lando recognized instantly as the date of your anniversary. The other looked like a set of coordinates, but he wasn’t too great at geography, so he looked to you for an explanation. 

“The place we first met.” 

“You looked up the coordinates of that tiny little restaurant? Nerd.” He chuckled, artfully dodging the swat you aimed his way at his teasing remark.

“It could be, like, your new lucky charm or something.” You shrugged, watching him turn the rings around carefully between his fingers. 

Lando glanced up, bumping your shoulder with his gently. “I’ve already got one.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. It’s you.” 

“Me?” 

“I like knowing you’re watching me. Even though I can’t see you, or even if you’re not here, knowing I’ve got you cheering me on from wherever you are helps. I think it makes me a better driver.” 

“Lan, you’re already a great driver.. You don’t need me for you to know that.” 

“I know. I just—it keeps me focused. To know you’re there.” He said softly, giving your hand a tight squeeze. “And now with this, I can have a piece of you with me whenever. Here, help me put it on.” 

“You can’t wear it under your suit, Lando, even I know that.”

“Alright, well, I’ll figure it out later. C’mon, put it on me.” Lando leaned forward, giving you space to bring the chain up over his head and around his neck. He even managed to sneak in another kiss whilst you followed the silver down to where the rings rested just below his collarbones. Your fingers stroked at the warm skin there, the cold of the metal contrasting.

“It looks good on you.” 

Lando melted like a popsicle on a hot summer day under your touch, smiling so big at you that you could hardly believe this was the same boy who had other drivers trembling in their fireproofs. He hoisted you back into his lap effortlessly, nosing at your pulse point a bit before smacking a kiss to your cheek when you wrapped your arm around his shoulders. “You look good on me.” 

“That was so bad. Like, really bad. I get why they call you Lando Norizz now.” 

“What?! Bad? That was so fucking smooth!” He huffed, going from looking completely smitten to entirely offended. “And I happen to have lots of rizz, thank you very much. I practically ooze rizz, love.” 

“I take it back.” You replied solemnly, patting Lando’s cheek. “That was worse.” 

“You’re so mean to me. I don’t know why I even put up with this harassment!” 

“Always so dramatic, you.” 

“I’ve got to be! How else would I be able to withstand this abuse?” 

You scoffed playfully and moved to climb off him, opting to keep a safe enough distance away so you wouldn’t be tempted to kiss him stupid. Then he’d really be late. “Don’t you have a race to prepare for, driver boy?” 

“I am,” He said earnestly, tucking his hands behind his head. You arched a skeptical brow, hands propped on your hips. 

“By hiding out in here with me?” 

“You know what they say—calm the mind, and the body will follow.” 

“I’ve literally never heard anyone say that.” 

“Well maybe people should start!” 

You huffed out an amused chuckle, crossing your arms. “Are you ready?” 

A sudden silence  blanketed the tiny room, Lando’s non response giving you all you needed to know. 

He reached out for you with a pout that you’d never been quite able to resist, fingers beckoning you back over longingly, like you were too far away for his liking. You gave in almost immediately despite previously wanting to give him space, trudging over with an overexaggerated roll of your eyes and letting yourself be pulled back onto his lap yet again. 

“I’ll be alright.” He answered finally, taking your hand in his. He fiddled with your fingers, tracing along each digit languidly and then circling his thumb over your palm—once, twice, a third time. 

This, something you’d learned quite early on in your relationship with Lando, was one of his many versions of self-soothing. The repetition of his actions proved rather calming to him, and it certainly helped that he got to feel your skin against his. 

His brows drew together in thought, furrowed and tense until you pushed your thumb into the wrinkle between them, smoothing out the scrunch. He wrapped his fingers around your wrist loosely. 

“You’re gonna do great, you know.” You insisted. 

He offered you as good of a smile as he could muster. “Yeah. I know.”  

“You’re gonna do your best, and whatever happens, you’ve got so many people who’ll be proud of you no matter what.”

“I don’t know if it’s enough.” Lando blurted, scratching at a patch on his suit. “I’ve been racing for years, and I still have no wins to show for it. It’s not fair to my team, it’s not fair to the fans. It’s not fair to you. You shouldn’t have to have a boyfriend who can’t fucking drive for shit.” 

“Lando, I’m not with you because of your job.” You said shortly, pressing your lips into a thin, unamused line. “And quite frankly, I feel hurt that you could even think I was.” 

Lando was quick to soothe, shaking his head frantically. He took both your hands in his, squeezing. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry, it’s just—I get in my head a lot. And I start to overthink, and shit comes out of my mouth that I don’t mean. I know you’re not like that, I do. I’m sorry.” 

You softened, sighing. “You could never win a race, ever, and I'd still love you all the same.”

He snorted. “Well, I’d like to win one at some point.” 

“What I meant was, I can’t speak for everyone else, but my pride for you has nothing to do with how well you do on the track, my love.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. I’m proud of you because you’re you. You’re kind and you work hard, and you try your best at everything you do. Even if the outcome isn’t what you expected, you keep at it. You keep going. That’s one of the reasons why I love you, that’s why I’m so proud of you.” 

“I’m stupid.” He groaned, tipping his head back against the couch cushions. You simply made a noise of agreement. “You’re too good to me. I love you.”

“I love you too. Now, you really need to go back to the garage. I’m sure Oscar’s sent out a search party for you at this point.” You said firmly, giving his chest a sharp poke. Lando groaned again but made to get up, shifting your legs off him so he could climb to his feet. 

“Fine. Just kick me out of my own room, why don’t you?” He huffed dramatically, swiping his hat off the floor and jamming it back over his hair. You aimed a fake kick towards him, stifling a giggle when he caught your foot and pretended to undo your laces. “Kiss?” 

“You need to leave, Lando,” You whined, batting him away gently. “I refuse to be the reason you’re late.” 

“One more. Just one more for good luck and I promise I’ll leave.” He insisted, expression pleading. You grumbled something unintelligible, reaching up begrudgingly to bring him down for one last kiss. 

Lando smiled against your lips, snaking a hand around the back of your neck to keep you in place a few beats longer than you intended. You practically had to unstick yourself from him, giving him a little shove towards the door so he’d actually leave. 

Immediately, he whirled around. “Wait, wait—”

“Lando! Go!” 

“No, no, hold on, it’s important.” He slipped his newfound chain over his head, rubbing his thumb over both rings before holding it out towards you. “Keep this safe for me?” He asked earnestly, pressing the necklace into your hands. “Can’t have my lucky charm getting lost already, can I?” 

“Give ‘em hell, number four.” You smiled, donning the necklace yourself. He beamed, blowing you a kiss as he backpedaled down the hall. "Number four on the track, number one in my heart!"

You could hear his infectious laughter echoing even as he retreated around the corner.

Lando would be fine. And if he wasn’t, he’d bounce back, like he always did. And you’d be there to support him every step of the way, like you always were. 

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post new fics :)

i'll come home to you ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

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ih6 x uni!reader

in which lovedrunk! isack shows up at your door

warnings: mildly suggestive

word count: 696

masterlist

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Isack knows that this is a bad idea. He doesn’t want to scare you off, because…

Well, you are the best thing that’s ever happened to him, including becoming a Formula One driver. 

He’s thinking about you, the way you smile at him and the kiss you’d left on the corner of his mouth the last time he saw you. 

He’d been out drinking with some of his friends, but he needed to see you, desperately. 

He’s been really desperate lately, so much so that Liam flicks his forehead every time Isack gets a text from you to clear his face of the cheesy, down bad smile. 

It’s worth it, though. He’d endure a sore forehead as long as you keep texting him about your day. 

That’s why he finds himself, tipsy and flushed at your doorstep. 

You open the door, face and legs bare. 

“Baby?” You ask, surprised, but moving to let him in. 

He has a hard time crossing into the doorframe, distracted by the smooth skin of your thighs, and the fact that you’re wearing one of his Hugo Boss hoodies he’d given you on your second date. 

This is your third, if you count showing up at the doorstep of your kind-of girlfriend at 12 AM. 

Melting into your arms, he greets you with a slurred French pet name. 

Your giggle reaches his ears just as he blows a raspberry into your neck. 

You squeal, trying to escape, but he lands the two of you on the couch. 

He digs his face into your chest, breathing in your body wash. 

“Hi, handsome. Where’d you come from?” You coo, fingers tracing his earlobe.

He shivers in pleasure, half from the sheer happiness of being in your presence, half from the feeling your hands on him. 

Slipping his hands under the thin tank you wear with the unzipped hoodie, he mutters to you about his evening. 

You hum at his story, laughing when he tells you how Yuki jumped on a table to dance. 

By the time he’s finished, you’re stripping off his hoodie due to the heat of his body pressed up against yours. He doesn’t mind at all as you push him gently up so you can take the hoodie off. 

Not when he gets to pull you onto his lap. 

“Isack, what-“ you start, but the feeling of his lips on your pulse point cuts you off. 

Isack practically purrs when your neck falls back as he mouths across your soft skin. The little whimpers you’re letting out is sending heat straight to his groin, and he groans when you shift even closer to him, clinging to his shoulders. 

“Mm,” he tells you, which you answer by threading your fingers into the short, black locks on his head. 

His eyes roll back in pleasure, at the feeling of you, desperate for him as he was for you. 

“You are so drunk,” you murmur, slipping off of his lap, grin a bit teasing and a bit disappointed. 

“Mon chérie, non!” He complains, trying to tug you back onto him. 

“Baby, c’mon. Let’s go to bed.” You start your way to what he assumes is your bedroom, looking back with wide, expecting eyes. 

He follows, half-hard and eager like the world’s most loyal puppy. 

“To sleep,” You clarify, and he deflates. Then, he bounces his steps because that means he gets to cuddle you all night. 

The two of you get unready together, brushing your teeth side by side and he lets you smooth on skincare onto his skin. 

He takes his shirt off, wearing only his boxers as you slip under the covers. You watch him, eyes hooded and cheeks flushed. 

Isack has to look at the ceiling and think about Helmut Marko for about ten seconds until he can join you. 

“Goodnight,” he pulls you into his bare chest, and you press a kiss to his heart, and then his lips. 

As you fall asleep, with his stomach warm from thick, heavy affection, he realizes this is where he wants to be forever. 

In your arms, in your bed, no matter where he is. 

With you, he thinks. 

Always with you. 

McDonald’s and Make Up

OP81 x Norris!reader

Pictures are not mine and credit is given to those who took/edited them. Also this is in no way meant to represent any of the real life people- they are their own person and have their own relationships. This is all fake lol.

Summary: Lando’s sister is pissed with how he treated Oscar after his first win.

You were waiting for the moment your boyfriend stepped off of the podium, practically vibrating with excitement. He was officially a Grand Prix winner and you couldn’t be more proud.

Now on the other hand, you couldn’t be more pissed at your brother.

Having seen the way he side stepped Oscar during the podium to shower Lewis with champagne, it made your heart hurt. Lando was always one to wear his emotions, but you had honestly expected more from him.

Oscar was his friend, and his little sister’s boyfriend.

Your boyfriend. Someone who is very important to you. Lando couldn’t suck it up for two seconds on national tv?

Lando walked, no, stormed into the McLaren garage before Oscar, the race winner always had more press time than the other drivers.

You could feel the anger in the room.

“What the fuck was that?” You asked, stepping in front of him, blocking him from walking right past you like he had planned to do.

Lando was pissed, and when he was pissed he said things he didn’t mean. You know that, but it still doesn’t mean that his words don’t hurt.

“It was me giving your fucking boyfriend a win. Piss off.”

Anger coursed through your body. This prick had some nerve hinting that Oscar didn’t deserve his win, his first win.

“Giving him a win? He earned it. He out preformed you the whole race! I’m sorry your ego is hurt, asshole.”

Your mother would wring both of your necks if she saw the public disturbance the two of you were making, but Lando always managed to get on your nerves the most. You two were the closest in age after all, an eleven month difference.

“Don’t talk to me, go fangirl over him. You guys won’t last anyway. Just like the rest of you’re relationships.”

“Fuck you,” you turned away from him. The engineers in the garage quickly turning away from where they had been standing, obviously watching the heated argument go down between the Norris siblings.

Tears prickled in yours eyes, you hated the fact that when you got pissed it almost always made you cry.

“Hey, hey—sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Oscar had shown up just in time to see you wiping away tears, and by the look in your eyes they were angry tears.

“Shit, I—I didn’t want you to see me like this. Baby, I’m so proud of you. You’re first win.”

You gushed, ignoring your feelings before pulling him into a tight hug, nose wrinkling with the stale smell of champagne and sweat.

“Thank you,” he bent down and kissed the top of your head before ushering the two of you back to his driver room. The other people in the garage congratulating him and giving him affectionate slaps on his shoulder.

Closing the door behind you, he carefully placed the trophy on a table, and looked at you. That was all it took before you cracked again. This time crying with excitement.

Fuck, your emotions were all over the place today.

“You did such a good job.”

He blushed, he liked when you complimented him.

“Thank you. Now, are you going to tell me what that was?”

He jerked his head to the door, he wanted to know why you were in upset tears earlier and not happy tears.

“You deserve every bit of this win.”

“I…I know. I think I did a good job, yeah? I do wish the pit stop had gone smoother and the team gave better orders, but you know. Lando and I still did great!”

Oscar liked to talk through how to race went most times. Go over what he thought went well and what went poorly to try to be better for the next race.

He obviously hadn’t heard Lando’s radio recording yet, he may have a different opinion about how well they both did.

“Lando’s a twat!”

Oscar couldn’t stop the shocked look that came on his face before joking with you, a chuckle escaping his lips. Lando was always a twat on his eyes.

“Yes, I know. But why is he a twat this time?”

“Because. I—“ you paused, not wanting to ruin his moment. It was such a huge moment in his career and you wouldn’t let his teammate ruin it.

“Because he just is. I’ll tell you later, baby.”

Oscar knew you were holding back, but you weren’t going to push it. After all, the three of you would be flying back to Monaco together.

“I’m going to go tell Lan congrats again. I’ll be back!”

Oscar happily left the room and you heard him talking with Lando just across the hall. Their voices too low for you to be able to hear what they were speaking about.

You cursed the fact that your mom had Lando before you, you could’ve been an only sibling. That would’ve been nice.

It was going to be a long night.

You were right, it was a long night. You sat awkwardly across from Lando on the flight and next to Oscar who was too busy looking between the two of you.

He couldn’t figure out what was going on, and he didn’t like it. Both of you were important to him, but when it came down to it he would side with you if need be.

Oscar tried speaking with Lando in his room before they left, but he had only shook his head and said, “Don’t worry, Osc.”

That only made him worry more.

He would’ve been happy with the silence normally, but this was weird. The Norris siblings were usually joking with one another and playing card games while yelling that the other was cheating, this behavior was odd to say the least.

It definitely had something to do with his win but he couldn’t figure out exactly why.

He knew Lando was let down, they talked about it earlier, but why would he be upset with you? You didn’t make the call for him to let Oscar pass.

You could practically hear Oscar’s thoughts racing, placing a comforting hand on his leg that was bouncing with anxiety.

“Is someone going to tell me what exactly is going on?” Oscar broke the quiet that had lasted exactly an hour.

Lando said, “No.”

Just as you spat out an even harsher no.

“Okayyyy, how about we play cards?” Oscar hated cards. It bored him and you knew that. You knew each time that you begged him to play a game of cards that he would refuse because you were just as competitive as your brother, if not more so.

The longer you sat with it the more you understood where your brother’s frustration was coming from. Lando was so close to catching up with Max and a P1 would’ve gotten him that much closer. He wanted that world champion title so badly.

But still—his words had hurt and his view on your relationship even more.

He didn’t think you and Oscar would last?

Even after you told him that you couldn’t even imagine being with someone who wasn’t him? That Oscar was it for you? It made you sad and almost doubt where you stood in the relationship.

“You hate cards.” Your retorted, not wanting to even look at your brother. Let alone play Uno with him.

“Fine, Monopoly it is.”

Oscar rushed away and came back with not just Monopoly, but a huge bag of McDonald’s. One of his favorite cheat foods, the twenty piece nugget was a weakness of his and a good way to cheer him up.

“Double cheeseburger for you.” Oscar handed you a wrapped burger. “And a Big Mac for you.” He handed it to Lando.

You stared at Oscar before holding you hand out expectantly.

“And a Diet Coke,” your boyfriend said, handing you a large cup, he could never forget your drink.

“Okay, now eat. Make up and play this game with me. You guys are worse than my sisters.”

“Fine,” Lando huffed. “I’m sorry.”

You focused more intently on your Diet Coke and took a sip, ignoring him to scroll through your Instagram.

“Hello?” Lando leaned forward, acting as if you were hard of hearing.

“Want a sip?” You made eye contact with a flustered Oscar. Who couldn’t help shake his head at the pettiness that you were displaying.

“Come on!” Lando yelled in disbelief that you were still ignoring him. You haven’t done that since you were eight and he cut your hair with scissors while you were asleep.

“Fine. You’re rude and I don’t like you very much right now.”

“Finally! Atleast you say something.”

“Well, you had too much to say!”

“Um, like what exactly?” Oscar hesitantly tried to break into the conversation. Wanting to be in the loop.

“Like talking shit about us, Oscar. Then hinting to the fact that I’m the problem in all my relationships!”

Lando glared, like you had snitched on him to your mother.

“Damn—that’s…that’s pretty bad. Do you not want us together, mate?”

Oscar’s ‘mate’ came out a little harsher than he had wanted, no Lando was desperately trying to back track.

“No! I was just pissed—“

“And being a dick!” You chime in, smirking at him.

“And being a dick. Obviously the race didn’t go how I wanted and I took it to heart.”

“Are you mad at me?” Oscar’s voice was quiet now and your attitude melted away, waiting on edge for Lando’s response. Your boyfriend sounded so unsure of where his friendship sat. This should be the happiest moment of his career and Lando has tainted it.

“No..no. I’m more disappointed in myself and how I reacted. I’m sorry, you both didn’t deserve it.”

Finally looking Lando in the eye, you have him a small smile, letting him know that you accepted his apology. The two of you would be sure to have a talk later, but after you both had time to cool down and get some sleep.

“Okay..” Oscar paused momentarily, then decided to also accept the apology. “Now, eat your McDonald’s so I can smoke you all in Monopoly.”

QUIET LOVE MOMENTS - MAX VERSTAPPEN

.SUMMARY: .Just quiet love moments/gestures with Max (1.6k words)

Max Verstappen x she!reader

part one here

For my crochet girlies.

WARNINGS: just fluff This will be part of a series I've been thinking about a lot! 📝💭 Enjoy! ✨😊

It was the night before Max had to leave for Italy.

The apartment felt a little heavier, quieter, the way it always did before a long trip. His suitcase sat open on the bedroom floor, clothes folded in neat stacks. He checked his list on his phone, mumbling softly to himself as he went over everything twice—because forgetting something meant adding space between them, and Max hated that.

Usually, she was there with him. Always. Teasing him for overpacking, handing him travel-size toiletries, folding his Red Bull hoodies with the sleeves tucked just the way he liked them. But tonight, her hands were occupied with something else entirely—something he knew she had been working on for a few nights in a row.

She was on the couch, yarn in her lap, legs curled beneath her in one of his old T-shirts, completely lost in concentration. Her fingers moved fast, looping and pulling, brows pinched together like the world depended on every stitch. Jimmy was stretched along her side, pawing lazily at a loose thread. Sassy and Nino were curled in the corner of the blanket she’d made last week. And Donatello—Donny, as Max called him when he was being extra cute—was nestled in the basket of colorful yarn, already asleep.

He leaned in the doorway, watching. Smiling.

“You’re not helping me pack,” he said softly.

“Nope.”

“Babe.”

“Don’t peek.”

“You’re definitely making something for me.”

She didn’t look up. “Could be. Could also be a very small sweater for Jimmy.”

Max chuckled, stepping closer, but she blocked his view dramatically with her arms. “Patience, Max Emilian. Go pack your socks.”

He kissed her temple and obeyed. He loved that about her—how passionate she got about her crochet projects, how even their cats had custom little covers and blankets, how their shared home in Monaco was filled with soft plants and coasters and cat hats she swore were “functional and cute,” even when Jimmy looked personally offended.

An hour later, she padded into the bedroom with something behind her back and a hopeful glint in her eyes.

“I have something for you,” she murmured.

She placed them in his hands: five little amigurumi, handmade with yarn and love. Jimmy with his sleek fur. Sassy looking unbothered and elegant. Donatello mid-pounce. Nino looking disproportionately long and incredibly smug. And then Max himself—stitched in racing blue, with a mini cap and even the tiniest serious face.

“They’re keychains,” she said. “For your backpack. So I can sort of come with you.”

He didn’t say anything. Just stared down at them, heart soft and chest tight.

Then he pulled her into his arms and held her like she was the thread keeping everything together.

“I love them,” he whispered. “And I love you. I’m putting them on right now.”

By the time Max was walking through the paddock in Italy, the five keychains were swinging gently from the zipper of his backpack—Jimmy, Sassy, Donny, Nino and a mini Max. He hadn’t stopped touching them since he left Monaco.

He’d just finished morning media duties when one of the Red Bull community managers spotted the colorful shapes bobbing behind him and caught up, phone already in hand.

“Max, wait—what are those?” she asked, grinning, angling the phone to film him casually.

He glanced back. “These?” he said, lifting the backpack strap to give a better view. “They’re my keychains. My girlfriend made them.”

The camera zoomed in slightly as he gently held each one up with proud fingers. “That’s Jimmy. Sassy. Donatello. Nino. And... me,” he added with a small, lopsided smile. “You can tell ‘cause mine has the annoyed face.”

The team member laughed behind the camera. “Wait, she made these?”

“Yeah, she crochets. She made them by hand. She’s honestly kind of obsessed with yarn—our apartment is full of little things she made.”

Then, as if unable to help himself, Max reached for his phone. “Wait, I’ll show you. Look at this.”

He scrolled for a moment, then held the phone out. The camera caught glimpses of the photos: her sitting cross-legged on the couch, hair messy, tongue peeking out as she concentrated. Jimmy curled up in her lap. Donny half-buried in a pile of soft blue yarn. Sassy snoozing peacefully on the exact thread she’d been trying to work with.

“She always tells me she can’t finish anything on time because the cats fall asleep on her projects,” Max said, grinning. “And she won’t move them. She’s got a good heart like that.”

There were more—her holding up a seafoam-colored blanket, a miniature plant cozy in their bathroom, a cat bed in soft green yarn with Donny inside like royalty.

The Red Bull team member laughed again. “Okay, this is the cutest thing we’ve seen all week.” Max blushed but shrugged, clearly proud.

Later that evening, after the national anthem, the champagne, and the photo ops on the podium, Max sat in the post-race press conference with a faint sheen still on his skin, his suit unzipped halfway, cap slightly crooked, hair damp around his temples.

He’d just won the Emilia-Romagna Grand Prix.

Reporters filtered their questions in waves—strategy, pit stop timings, tire degradation. Max answered in calm, controlled tones.

Then a hand went up near the back, and the tone shifted.

“Max, earlier this weekend a video went viral—your Red Bull media team caught you showing off some keychains on your backpack. Handmade, from what we’ve seen. Can you tell us more about them?”

It wasn’t the kind of question that usually made it into a post-race debrief. But Max’s entire face changed.

He blinked—just once—and then the corners of his mouth lifted with something that wasn’t just a smile. It was pride. Warm and real, carved from something much softer than victory.

“Yeah,” he said, sitting a little straighter, the usual guard in his voice dropping slightly. “My girlfriend made those. Crocheted them, actually. She gave them to me before I flew to Italy.”

He paused, glancing down like the memory was physically warm in his hands.

“She said it was so I could carry a piece of home with me,” he continued, voice gentler now. “There’s one of me, and then Jimmy, Sassy, and Donatello—our cats and Nino-our dog.”

The room chuckled, soft and surprised, but Max didn’t flinch. He didn’t hide from it.

“I’m really proud of her,” he added, looking directly at the reporter. “She’s insanely talented. I mean, if I sit still too long, she’ll probably cover me in yarn.” He grinned. “Honestly, I’m surprised she hasn’t yet.”

Lando, seated beside him, leaned into his mic. “Wait—do you think she could make one for me? They looked seriously cool.”

Oscar smirked, glancing sideways. “Yeah, Max. Hook us up.”

Max let out a low laugh, shaking his head. “For you two?” he teased. “Would cost a fortune. She’s got standards, you know.”

The room broke into laughter. Even the moderator smiled.

But when the chuckles faded.

He didn’t say anything else. He didn’t need to.

Because the cameras would catch it anyway. The smile. The way his entire demeanor softened the moment her name hovered between the lines of a question.

Max Verstappen. A world champion. A man in love.

And not even trying to hide it.

Later that night, while tucked under one of her own blankets, cats and a dog asleep at her feet and Max somewhere in Italy basking in another win, she opened Instagram—and nearly dropped her phone.

The video was everywhere. Short clips from the press conference. Edits set to soft indie music. TikToks zooming in on Max’s bashful smile when he said, “I’m really proud of her”

Red Bull had posted the behind-the-scenes reel too—him turning around proudly to show off the keychains, flipping through photos on his phone like a man possessed. The captions were “He’s fast. He’s fearless. And apparently, if you sit too long near him, you might end up in yarn. 🧶"

The comments? Absolutely unhinged.

@.landoismytherapist: Lando trying to commission a crochet keychain and Max telling him it would cost a fortune 😭😭😭 she’s got luxury brand status now @.speedandsoul: me watching this 500 times a day like it's my religion @.lan4do: Lando wants one. We ALL want one. Start the Etsy, girlie. @.maxielover16 Not Max dead serious in a press conference going “she’ll probably cover me in yarn” I’m crying in the club @.sassyjimboy the way max smiled when he said “she made them so I could carry a piece of home with me” ??? jail. all of you. this is too much. @.paddocktea: This man is GONE. Do you see the way he smiles when he talks about her??? @.softlyverstappen: She CROCHETED HIM and THEIR PETS and now he’s out here showing the world like it’s a Grammy

She covered her face with one hand, heart full and cheeks aching from smiling.

Then her phone buzzed.

Max 💙 you're all over the internet, liefje. you’ve officially outshined my win. lando wants a keychain. he’s serious.

She bit back a grin, curled tighter under the blanket, fingers dancing across the screen.

You he can have one. but only if he gives you a tow in quali. and i want onboard footage as proof.

Max 💙 deal. you’re brilliant, you know that?

A pause, then another message followed.

Max 💙 come to Spain. i miss you. and i want to show you off a little.