Why Didn’t You Tell Me?

Reader is secretly married to Lando, and she starts using his sim, she misses him and she wants to feel closer and also really wants to learn (even if she is not ready to admit that she always had a thing for learning how it would feel to be in an actual f1 car). She creates a profile for herself for fun: Mrs Norris (which of course no one thinks it’s actually her). She becomes so good at it that she ends up beating the whole grid one time, and everyone is just wondering who the hell is this person…

👀👀👀👀

Very unrealistic, but well… 😂😂😂😂

Mrs Norris (Oneshot)

Lando Norris x Verstappen!Reader

Summary — It was only supposed to be a bit of fun, but really, what did she expect? Her surname might be Norris now, but she was born a Verstappen.

Notes — This was so fun!!!!!! Em, I will never not appreciate your cute ideas.

Lando had been gone for exactly twelve hours when she caved.

It wasn’t boredom—the Verstappen family didn’t do boredom. Her schedule was packed with gym sessions, influencer brunches, and brand events she had no real desire to attend.

But the apartment felt off without him. Too quiet. Too tidy.

And the sim rig—God, it just sat there. Smug. Taunting. Like it knew she’d eventually give in to its silent, high-tech seduction.

She told herself it was just curiosity. Racing was in her blood, even if she’d had zero interest as a kid. She used to stage silent protests just to get out of karting, sulking until her dad finally let her quit and focus on gymnastics instead.

Still, one harmless session wouldn’t hurt, right?

Just a few laps around Silverstone. Just something to do before bed.

Two hours later, she was red-faced, sweaty, and yelling at an AI Williams for brake-checking her into Turn 1.

She was terrible. Hilariously, painfully terrible.

But she was hooked.

—

By day three, she was watching tutorials, scribbling notes, and fine-tuning the seat and wheel setup like her life depended on it.

She texted Lando under the guise of checking in.

Hey handsome, you okay? Totally random, but what’s the best braking point for Eau Rouge?

He didn’t even question it—just sent a smug voice note with a full breakdown like she was a rookie on his team.

It made her want to destroy his time.

That night, she created a profile.

She debated using her real name, but that was a quick no. The username had to be anonymous… but also funny.

So she picked the most on-the-nose option possible.

@Mrs.Norris

It was meant to be a joke. A bit of fun. She never expected it to go anywhere.

She definitely didn’t expect to get good.

—

Two weeks in, she was holding her own in online lobbies. Four weeks in, she was winning. All of them.

Six weeks in, she entered a public charity sim race and beat George, Charles, and Alex.

The stream chat lost its collective mind.

Who TF is Mrs. Norris???

Actual alien pace.

Lando alt??

Plot twist: it’s Max Verstappen in disguise.

That last one made her laugh so hard she nearly fell out of the rig. The idea that they thought her brother was racing under her married name? Unhinged enough to make her cry.

Then came the text from Lando.

Lando:

Baby, are you using my sim under the username Mrs. Norris?

You:

Yep. And I beat them all.

Lando:

No. Shut up. You did not.

You:

Duh. I might be a Norris now, but I was born a Verstappen.

—

When he finally got home after the triple-header, he walked in to find her mid-race, cursing like a sailor, laser-focused, fire in her eyes.

He leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, smirking.

She crossed the finish line five seconds clear of second place.

Slowly, she removed the headset. Even slower, she turned to face him, cheeks flushed pink.

“Hi,” she said softly, suddenly shy.

He didn’t say anything.

Then he grinned.

“Mrs. Norris,” he drawled, walking over to kiss her forehead, “we are so screwed if this gets out.”

She smiled. “It won’t. They think I’m Max.”

He leaned in, voice low. “You beat my Silverstone time.”

“Your fault for sounding all smug about Eau Rouge.”

He kissed her properly then, holding her like he hadn’t seen her in months.

And neither of them mentioned the way his hands trembled slightly at the thought of her in a real F1 car.

Because if her dad ever found out?

He’d have her in one tomorrow.

One Flesh - Angst with Kento Nanami 🤍

The evening had started off tense, but Sara had promised herself she wouldn’t let it get to her.

Nanami’s family wasn’t bad, per se—most of them were welcoming, even kind. But his mother… she had made it clear from the moment they met that she didn’t think Sara was “the right kind of woman” for her son.

Sara had braced herself for the usual passive-aggressive comments, but tonight, it was worse.

"You must be very confident," his mother had said at one point, eyes flicking over Sara’s dress. "Wearing something so… fitted."

Sara had just smiled politely, refusing to let it show that the words had stung.

Later, as they sat down to eat, she overheard his mother whisper to one of Nanami’s relatives: "She certainly doesn’t look like the kind of woman Kento would go for. He’s always been so… disciplined."

Another chuckle, another whisper: "Maybe he just settled."

Sara clenched her fists under the table, her heart sinking. Settled?

She wanted to leave. But she knew Nanami would ask why, and she didn’t want to cause a scene. So she just kept smiling, kept pretending.

Until he walked up to her.

Nanami had been caught in conversation with some of his cousins, but the moment he approached Sara again, he knew.

She looked fine on the surface, but her smile was just a little too tight, her hands wringing in her lap. She wasn’t okay.

"Sara," he murmured lowly, so only she could hear. "What happened?"

Sara swallowed, shaking her head. "Nothing, love. I'm fine."

But she wasn't a good liar—not with him.

And then, as if fate had set itself against his mother, he heard it.

"If she lost a little weight, she'd look so much better in that dress," his mother murmured to a woman beside her. "It’s a shame. Kento could have anyone, and yet…"

That was it.

The room went ice cold.

Nanami’s entire expression darkened. His jaw clenched, his fists curled at his sides, and when he turned to face his mother, his voice was eerily calm—but lethal.

"We’re leaving."

Sara blinked. "Nanami—"

He was already grabbing her coat, helping her into it with careful, almost reverent hands before taking her hand in his.

His mother’s eyes widened. "Kento, you don’t have to—"

"I will never come back here if you continue to disrespect my wife."

The room fell silent.

His mother’s mouth opened and closed, the realization hitting her all at once. She had gone too far.

"I didn’t mean—"

Nanami ignored her completely, already leading Sara outside.

The drive home was silent at first.

Sara was staring out the window, quiet. Too quiet.

And then, he saw them.

Silent tears. Rolling down her soft, beautiful cheeks.

His heart broke.

"Sara," he whispered, guilt lacing his tone. He reached over at the red light, cupping her cheek gently. "I'm so sorry. I should have never brought you there."

She sniffled, shaking her head. "It's okay, Kento. Really, it's fine."

But it wasn't. It wasn't fine.

His lips pressed together in a thin line before he leaned in, pressing soft, lingering kisses to each damp trail on her face.

One on her cheek.

Another near her temple.

Then another, just beside her lips.

Sara let out a soft, surprised chuckle at the tender assault, her hands weakly gripping his wrist. "Nanami, stop, you're driving—"

"I don’t care." His forehead rested against hers, his warm breath ghosting over her skin. "You are the most important thing in my life, Sara." His voice dropped even lower, more intense. "I love you. You are all I need. All I want."

Sara closed her eyes, letting the warmth of his words wash over her.

Then, finally, finally, she whispered, "I love you too."

And just like that, the weight of the night melted away.

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

The apartment was quiet. Too quiet.

Nanami sat on the couch, watching as Sara moved around their home with that too-careful air—like she was trying not to be noticed.

It had been hours since they returned from his mother's gathering, and though he had kissed away her tears in the car, he knew.

She was still upset.

"Sara," he called, voice even but firm.

She turned slightly, a forced smile gracing her lips. "Hmm?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Come here."

Sara hesitated. "I'm fine, Kento. Really."

Lies.

His patience thinned.

"Come here, sweetheart." His voice was softer this time, but it was not a request.

He reached for her, meaning to pull her onto his lap—to hold her close, reassure her like he always did—but she stepped back.

Refusing him.

Nanami’s jaw tensed. He did not like that.

He set his glass on the table with deliberate calmness, his golden eyes never leaving her. "Sara."

She exhaled shakily, arms crossing over her chest. "Do you regret it?"

His brow furrowed. "Regret what?"

She swallowed hard, eyes fixed on the floor. "Marrying me."

His breath stilled.

Before he could even form a response, she continued—her voice quieter now, weaker.

"If… if you want to break up with me, it’s okay, Nanami. I’ll leave."

His fingers twitched.

"Sara—"

"I don’t want to embarrass you anymore. Or hold you back." She let out a breathless laugh, but it was hollow. "Maybe your mother is right. You deserve someone better. It’s fine. We can just go our separate ways."

Separate ways.

The words sent an ugly, unfamiliar panic curling in his chest.

But what broke him was her final whisper.

"You’re too good for me… I—I'm sure you’ll find someone as good as you. And I… I can find someone on my level too."

Nanami stood so fast the chair scraped loudly against the floor.

Sara gasped as his strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her into his chest, holding her so tightly she could barely breathe.

His voice was sharp, filled with something dangerously close to desperation.

"Do not say that again."

She swallowed. "Nanami—"

He pulled back, his hands framing her face, forcing her to look at him. His expression was furious. But underneath it, there was something raw in his gaze.

"There is no one else. No ‘better’ person for me." His fingers tightened slightly. "You are it, Sara. You are all I want. And I will never—never let you go."

Sara’s lip trembled. "But your mother—"

"Is not in this marriage." His forehead pressed to hers, his breath fanning over her skin. "I chose you. I will always choose you. And I will spend every damn day proving it to you if I have to."

Her eyes burned with fresh tears.

His lips brushed over hers, soft but urgent.

"Stay with me, Sara."

She let out a broken little laugh. "Do I have a choice?." She said while hiding her face in his neck

His grip on her waist tightened. "You don't. You are stuck with me."

And when he kissed her again, it was with all the love, all the devotion, all the certainty in the world.

Note: This song reminds me of him 🤍

You Overhear Fans Being Rude About Him ~ Kim Namjoon

Murmurs of young girls behind you as you cleaned the coffee machine quickly captured your attention. You turned around, smiling softly at the till, waiting for them to fall silent before greeting them.

“He’s just so much better looking in real life,” you overheard one of them say, glancing across once they finally realised you were there.

You knew exactly who they were referring to, the silver haired, shy boy who often sat at the back of your coffee shop, lost in a book or two, with only a hazelnut latte to keep himself company. Of course, you knew who he was, BTS were the talk of the town, and having one of their member’s as a customer certainly attracted many people to the café.

To you, he was just another regular guy. He’d come in, first thing in the morning sometimes, and greet you with a warm smile, and a chirpy tone, enough to pick you up from the lowest of moods.

“Two cappuccinos please,” the other girl spitefully requested, snapping you out of your little daze.

Their whispers continued as you entered the order into the till, the cost popping up on the monitor, taking money from both girls to cover the cost. You hated listening to them speak so poorly of him, just like everyone else he deserved some privacy and respect.

“I reckon he’ll fancy me, maybe open up my top button, really attract his attention,” one of them suggested.

“He likes girls with their hair up, so I’m going to tie mine up into a bun.”

They made it sound like he was an object; you couldn’t believe they were so open in talking about him so rudely. Neither of them cared about who was around them or who was hearing the things they were saying, it was as if it was alright.

The two of them stepped aside whilst you made their drinks, continuing to tune into their conversation. Talk about his laugh, dancing and hair caught your attention, mocking his abilities on and off the stage.

It broke your heart listening to the way the two of them spoke about such a treasured customer, he was at the heart of the community, and so were you.

Once you were done, you took the two mugs, slamming them down, spilling a small amount of both coffees over the side. The two of them flinched, reaching out to take the mugs, only for you to refuse to let go.

“Yes, thank you.”

You tugged the mugs towards you, in turn sending the two of them closer towards you too. “A little bit of advice for the two of you, if you want to get photos and autographs from people, be careful about how you speak about them beforehand.”

Both of their eyes went wide, yanking the mug from you. They both possessed evil, vindictive smirks, but that was never going to intimidate you into backing down from what was right.

“Why don’t you just stay out of our business?”

“That man there is innocent and harmless, I know for a fact, if you go over there, he will be the sweetest soul, unassuming of all the horrific things you’ve just said- “

“-yeah, but- “

“-I’m not finished. I think the two of you need to learn some respect for others and yourselves, he deserves some privacy just like the rest of us, especially from people like you.”

Without saying another word, the two of them headed over to the table by the window. You knew exactly what they were whispering about as they walked away, continuously turning back to look at you, rolling their eyes distastefully.

You knew there was a reason he sat in the back of the café, to hide away from prying eyes and flashing cameras, you couldn’t blame him after all.

Satisfied that the two of them were out of sight, you turned back to the line of customers, blushing when you saw him stood, holding out his empty mug with a cheeky smile on his face.

“Let me guess, hazelnut latte,” you chuckled, taking the mug from him.

He nodded, pressing his hands together, sliding along the counter to the till, placing enough money for two drinks down, sliding it into the palm of your hand.

You put his drink through the till, taking the correct change for his drink, but he stopped you, handing you the additional money too. “I want you to have a drink or something on me, I don’t think you realised how long I was stood there, did you?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“I heard you speak up for me, against those girls, and I really do appreciate it. I’m sick and tired of fake fans, and I think we definitely found two of them there.”

You looked to the floor, beginning to start his drink, hiding the blush you could feel growing on your cheeks. Knowing the two of them would be looking in your direction too brought a whole lot more attention to your conversation.

From the start you definitely took a liking to him, his humble nature and kind soul took you by surprise when you first met him and he introduced himself, but over time you realised how special a customer he was.

“I was just doing my job.”

“You were doing far more than just your job, you were supporting me, and you had my back and that means a lot to me. The least I can do is buy you a drink, or if you don’t want to make it yourself, maybe let me take you out for a drink sometime.”

His mug was placed, refilled, before him, along with the change from your drink. He chuckled, knowing he wasn’t going to win the battle this time around, slipping the money into his back pocket.

“That drink would be nice,” you anxiously giggled, resting your elbows against the wooden counter, resting your head in your hands. “You seem like a nice guy.”

“You must think so after the things you were saying to those girls, I’ve never listened to someone speak so highly of me.”

“You’re a superstar, I’m sure a lot of people have spoken a lot nicer about you than I have. I just work in a café, think of all the millionaire producers who’ve spoken so well of you before.”

He slid along the queue, taking a sip from his coffee, refusing to leave the counter where you stood. You were busy, but he didn’t mind, he was patient, and willing to talk to you desperately.

“Just because you work in a café doesn’t make you any less valuable, if anything, I think more highly of you. I’m still grounded, and it’s people like you who keep me on the ground.” He smiled, resting against the counter.

You nodded, taking the order of the next customer, continuing your conversation with him whilst you did your job. It was part of the job and working with people, multitasking was a definite skill of yours.

“Perhaps I could come back at closing, take you out to one of the pubs down the road, nothing too fancy, just a little something, how does that sound?”

“It sounds lovely, I’ll see you then.”

—

Masterlist

Grid Mum 2 | MV1

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: Growing attached to the rookies meant that you now cared for them off track as well. So when some of them are not treated well by their teams, you and Max take your role of grid parents very seriously.

Author's Note: ok so i usually don't plan on doing part 2 for my fics but @robinivoryanvalentine gave me ideas and this lil thing was born ig so shout out to them🫶🏻 i have one request left that I'm hoping to write soon now that it's FINALLY school break and i hope I'll also get some inspo w the rest of the triple header🙂‍↕️

F1 MASTERLIST🏎 | Previous Part | Next Part

From the moment you had accepted that Max’s grid kids were also yours in the process, you had thought that your interactions with them would only be during race weekends. However, when you saw that some drama was already happening even though the season had barely started, you decided that the rookies would become both your on and off track children.

It had begun with Jack.

You had never been Alpine’s biggest fan – you mostly considered Esteban and Pierre as acquaintances during the previous season – and it had gotten worse when Flavio was back in the paddock. Still, you were glad for Jack when it was announced that he would get a full-time seat for the 2025 season – although it was a shit move from Alpine to sack Esteban for the last grand prix of 2024.

The drama had started a bit after Alpine announced their reserve drivers for 2025. First, Paul Aaron. He was a good driver, and had done a good F2 season, despite the insane amount of car issues he had suffered from. Then, Franco Colapinto. Having raced for a third of the 2024 season with Williams, Franco had quickly become a fan favourite due to this charming personality.

The issue wasn’t Alpine having two reserve drivers – it was honestly quite usual. No, the actual issue lay in fans already expecting Jack’s downfall so that Franco could take his place. Everyone was claiming that Jack only had the first five races to prove himself, and then it would be goodbye for him.

Then, it got even worse. Shortly after the New Year, Alpine announced their third reserve driver. You remembered seeing the news and being really surprised because “why do they need so many plans b?” – that’s what you had said to Max, who had agreed and had then proceeded to diss the French team for the next few minutes. And if you thought that they were done, you were wrong because Alpine waited until a few days before the first race of the season to announce their fourth reserve driver.

You truly hoped that Jack wasn’t too stressed about it, but the latest season of Drive To Survive showed you that he definitely was. The scene between Jack and Flavio in the latter’s office had truly scared you, and you couldn’t imagine the amount of pressure they were putting on the Aussie.

It also didn’t help when Jack DNFed at his home race, which led to the fans clearly awaiting the day when Alpine would replace him with Franco. The dinner you had invited him to along with the other rookies had helped, but you knew that it was only temporary comfort until the following races. The next week in China had been a bit better: Jack had finished 13th after the three DSQs, which wasn’t so bad, but you had seen the comments everywhere. ‘Fans’ were still dreaming of Franco taking his seat, not caring one bit about Jack.

You were truly saddened by the situation. Jack didn’t deserve that kind of reaction – no driver did. The only thing he deserved was the opportunity to prove himself, and his full potential couldn’t be seen after two races.

Two. races. were. not. enough.

And yet, it wasn’t Alpine that was currently at the origin of your newly-found anger. No, right now, you were only mad at one team: Red Bull Racing.

You had seen the rumours online. You had heard about them in the paddock. You hadn’t wanted to believe them; they were rumours for a reason. So when Max told you the news before it would be public, you thought he had been messing with you. You had been back in Monaco in your shared flat, when he announced it to you:

“Don’t be mad but…” Max waited for you to look at him before he kept talking. “They’re dropping Liam”.

“What?” Did you hear it well?

“Red Bull”, Max explained. “They’re switching Liam and Yuki.”

“You’re joking?”

“Wish I was, honestly. It’s such a shit decision, but I have no say in this.”

You were kind of glad that even Max wasn’t agreeing with the switch, but it still hurt. You were mad. Mad for Liam. Mad at Red Bull.

“Do they not realise they’re the fucking problem?” You couldn’t help the venom in your tone. “Have been for years. But no, it’s always the driver.”

“I know… Trust me, I wish I could have helped tilt the balance on the other side. Turns out my opinion suddenly doesn’t matter.”

“Shocker”, you sarcastically replied. You knew Max had vouched for Liam to stay; but when his team had decided something, even their star driver apparently didn’t have any right to go against it. “Do they wish to destroy another driver’s career?” You thought about Yuki, with whom you’d been friends for years since he had joined Racing Bulls. “At this home grand prix, that’s fucked up.”

“You know everything Red Bull does is fucked up at this point. That’s like your main take everytime they do something.”

“Am I wrong, though?” You raised an eyebrow at your boyfriend.

“Unfortunately, no.” Max sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “I guess I won’t see you in my garage in Japan, then?”

“I’m not that much of a bitch, Max. I’ll show up for Yuki, obviously.”

“Obviously”, Max repeated with a chuckle. “You’ll text me which garage I have to collect you from, yeah?”

“You know me so well.” You smiled at him, before pulling him close for a quick kiss. “When are they announcing it?”

“I think some media are confirming it today, but the teams will only post about it starting tomorrow.”

“Does Liam actually know?” This was the dreaded question. You knew Red Bull was bad enough that they were capable of telling him after the entire world was made aware.

“He does, yeah.” Max thought for a second. “Don’t know for sure if they told him before Yuki, but they were decent enough not to let him find out through the internet.”

“I hope so.” You pulled out your phone, your thumb hovering over the messages application. “Is it too early to text him?” You really wanted to show Liam your support, but you were scared that Red Bull had actually been too cowardly to not notify Liam until the very last minute.

“Might be good to wait a couple days”, Max suggested. “He might be home right now, so he’ll probably have his family and friends with him.”

You nodded at Max’s words, agreeing to wait until the information would be out everywhere. Still, you made a mental note to start thinking of what you could eventually do to lift the Aussie's and Kiwi's spirits.

…..

At the end of the week, the whole world had seen the news. Red Bull Racing had definitely swapped Liam with Yuki, deciding that the younger driver had not shown enough potential after only two races.

Trusting yourself, you did what you thought was right and texted Liam as well as Jack. You sent them your address, and offered to have them for dinner that evening. You knew that even though almost the entire grid lived in Monaco, it was actually quite rare for the drivers to hang out. Max, especially, loved to stay home in order to avoid seeing his work friends. However, he was surprisingly glad to have Jack and Liam. Your boyfriend had even helped to cook tonight’s meal, and you were certain the rookies would particularly enjoy this information.

Monaco was a small town, so it didn’t take long for Jack and Liam to arrive at yours. It was known on the grid where each driver lived in the city, but actually seeing where Max lived with their own eyes felt surreal to the young drivers. When you opened the door to see them both awkwardly standing next to one another, it only took one warm smile from you to help them relax. They cautiously followed you inside; admiring every piece of furniture, every picture, Max’s beloved simulator which looked out of place in the living room you had beautifully decorated.

The most surprising thing for Jack and Liam, though, wasn’t the wall full of helmets and trophies nor the silly cushions you had bought with cats’ faces on them. No, it was the shocking view of four-times world champion Max Verstappen who was wearing an apron and currently setting the table.

When he saw you, the loving smile on his face naturally appeared. He then noticed the two rookies behind you and gave them a nod.

“Hi”, he said to them. “Welcome to our home, I guess.”

“Thanks for having us,” Jack replied. “It’s nice here.”

“Yeah”, Liam agreed. He then raised his right hand that had been holding a bag. “Hmm… I brought dessert?”

“Oh, you shouldn’t have!” You exclaimed. “That’s so sweet of you, Liam.”

You took a large box out of the bag, and barely had time to put it on the table that another box got put down right next to it.

“We had the same idea”, Jack stated. “We didn’t buy the same thing, though. Had time to compare when we were in the lift.”

“You guys are so nice, thank you so much!”

Quickly opening each box, you saw that Liam had brought chocolate muffins while Jack had brought profiteroles. You let yourself out to the kitchen in order to put the boxes in the fridge, which meant that the drivers were now alone in the living room.

Safe to say, the atmosphere was quite awkward. There wasn’t any tension per say, but it wasn’t everyday that Max had people from his workplace at home. Remembering what he was wearing, Max looked down at his outfit and swiftly removed his apron.

“Yeah… hmm, sorry… you guys can sit down if you want. It’s almost ready.”

Jack and Liam thanked him with a nod, before they both pulled out the closest chair to them.

“Dinner is ready indeed, but everyone’s washing their hands before we eat please.” You had just come back to the living room. Your tone wasn’t harsh, but commanding enough that no one would disobey – exactly like a mother.

You made sure that everyone, including your boyfriend, had now washed their hands before leading them back to the table. You asked Max to bring the food there, which he did. Together, you had prepared lasagna as well as some potatoes to go with it.

You served the drivers, who all thanked you with a smile. You and Max were sitting next to each other, with Jack and Liam facing you both. You then all began to eat in a comfortable silence.

“Thanks again for having us,” Liam eventually said. “Food’s really good by the way.”

“It is”, Jack agreed with a nod.

“Max is a good cook, right?” You chuckled before offering them seconds, which they gladly accepted.

“Guess I have a plan b if racing doesn't work out,” Max claimed with a shrug. “Can't say that it's really going well recently.”

“We said no work talk, remember?” You reminded him while serving the rookies. “Tonight is supposed to be about anything but your jobs.”

“It’s fine, honestly.”

“Yeah, Jack’s right. If anything, better to talk about it with y’all than anyone else,” Liam added.

“Sure?” You wondered. They both nodded, which reassured you. “Well, if you don’t mind talking about work then I guess we can do so after dinner while racing.”

“Racing?” Liam and Jack repeated.

“Y’all know how to play F1 24?” You asked them, to which they positively answered. “Then yes, racing.”

Exchanging a glance, the two drivers in front of you were now even happier to be there. A proud smile made its way on your face, glad to have your boys in a good mood.

Dinner finished quickly enough after light-hearted chats. You learnt more about Jack’s and Liam’s childhood, while they asked you questions about your and Max’s relationship. They were really enjoying their time with you – even more than with Max – and loved getting to know you outside the track.

While the drivers were moving from the dining table to the sofas in front of the massive TV that adorned the wall, you went back to the kitchen to retrieve the desserts. When you came back, Max was giving controllers to Liam and Jack before he turned the game on.

Obviously not caring about you being here, Max left the racing mode on ‘expert mode’ which clearly wouldn’t bother the other drivers present. As expected, he chose to play himself. You let Liam select Lewis while Jack selected Oscar, before it was your turn. You picked Charles as you often did, and now it was actually time to race.

As usual when you played with Max, you didn’t do great. After a couple races, Liam and Jack realised that dating a world champion didn’t mean that you had gained his driving skills. So they decided to tone it down, and let you overtake them during the next race. You hadn’t noticed, simply thinking that this track wasn’t their favourite. Max, however, immediately realised what was going on.

“You shouldn’t let her win”, he told them while taking a quick bite from his muffin. “She’s used to losing, don’t worry about her.”

“Fuck you, Max.” You threw a cushion to his face, which didn’t even affect him as he still crossed the finish line in first position.

“You’re like the worst boyfriend ever, mate. I think my girl would kill me if I didn’t let her win from time to time,” Liam explained with a chuckle.

“What?” Max turned to Liam, a serious and intimidating look now on his face.

“I– I mean, not the worst of course!” Liam was scared he had joked about the wrong thing, and tried to take back his words. “You’re the racing driver so… yeah, makes sense you’re better than her.”

“I’m kidding, Liam.” Max simply said. “God, you’re easy to pressure.”

“And you are actually the worst”. Putting down your controller, you took a profiterole and faced the rookies. “Please don’t let him scare you or some shit like that, he’s literally just a silly nerd. If anything, be the ones to intimidate him. I’ll teach you both his weaknesses.”

“I’ll ban you from my garage”, Max retorted.

“Great, I didn’t even wanna be there anyways.”

“I’ll ban you from the paddock”, Max added.

“Then I’ll date another driver who’ll give me access and overrule you”. You innocently smiled at your boyfriend, knowing that he wouldn’t manage to get the upper hand back.

“I’ll run him off track and he won’t be able to race anymore.”

“I’ll join the FIA and give you stop-and-go penalties.”

As they had been sitting between the two of you, Jack and Liam could only watch the exchange between you and Max as if it were a tennis match. They were deeply entertained, and one thought was certainly shared between them: they would definitely side with you against Max, no matter the situation.

Max was their grid mum on track. But you were their grid mum off track, and that was worth so much more to them. If Liam and Jack had been nervous to come spend the evening here, all their worries had now completely disappeared.

If anything, they could even pretend to still be bothered about what was happening to them in the Formula 1 world, just so they could spend more moments like this one. They wouldn’t need to, though. Even without the excuse of wanting to distract them and lift their spirits, you would still invite them to dinner the next day, before offering them a ride on Max’s plane as if it was yours – it kind of was, according to Max who deemed everything he owned as your possession too.

So when the four of you would arrive together in Japan, the other rookies might be jealous. They might ask Liam and Jack about how they pulled it off, and maybe the two would agree in telling a little white lie just so they would gatekeep the family time they spent with you and Max.

And it would eventually become a competition as a joke: who would be able to get the most time with their grid parents?

..........

Hope y'all enjoyed it!! Y'all cannot imagine how mad i was when the devil (rbr) switched liam and yuki - actually you kinda can bc i posted ab it lol

But i fr hate that they only give liam 2 races to prove himself like THAT'S😭NO😭ENOUGH😭 and for jack, well i saw that oliver oakes confirmed they ain't getting rid of him + plan of having him for the whole season but they aren't giving him enough love imo - like why tf y'all have 4 reserve drivers

Anywayyys i acc have no idea whether liam was made aware of the switch before it went public but let's pretend rbr ain't bitches

Don't hesitate to like or reblog if you liked this<3 and don't be shy to leave a comment so i can know your thoughts as well :))

See you soon, take care of yourselves, i love y'all xx

prison for life - mv1

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where if anybody hurts you, Max is going to prison for life.

Pairing: max verstappen x pregnant!reader 

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: fluff, pregnancy, mentions of throwing up, cursing, kinda angsty in some places, jos verstappen

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i’ve been in such a max mood recently that is actually shocking to me, but i just needed some fluffy anything after working on smutty pieces for weeks. i got this idea in my dream and honestly i think it turned out better than i could’ve imagined!! feedback is always appreciated, and my requests are currently open if you want to check that out, i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

If you would have to choose a word to describe Max, it would be ‘overprotective’, because that’s what he is. It’s not a bad thing, per say. He isn’t overbearing or controlling at all, but he is simply overprotective. And if you thought he was overprotective when the two of you were dating or when you first got married, you have to admit that you were not, at all, prepared for his protectiveness when you told him that you were pregnant. Apart from his initial meltdown over becoming a dad, or rather becoming like his own father, Max has been pretty chill about the whole thing – with the exception being your safety, of course. The underlying problem isn’t the fact that you’re some sort of daredevil because you’re not, the problem is the fact that Max believes that everything is out to get you. 

The olives you wanted to eat for breakfast? Choking hazard.  

The candles you bought for the living room (to be purely decorative, but still)? Fire hazard.  

The pool lounger Victoria thought would be a cute addition to the pool? Drowning hazard.  

The seatbelt in his car that is surprisingly tight? Could be all three, according to Max, given the right (or wrong) circumstances.  

So, yeah, maybe he wasn’t that scared of becoming a dad, but he was surely scared of you being in danger. That’s why you agreed to stay back for the most races this year – you knew he didn’t need to worry about you or your baby’s safety on top of the stress he had to deal with during the usual racing weekend. That was until you realised how much you would miss your boyfriend after almost a month of not seeing him due to a triple header. And so, you did the thing any person with a common sense would do – flying out to see him without telling him beforehand, because what’s the fun in that?  

The sheer look of shock on his face might be the funniest thing you’ve ever seen when you meet him in his driver’s room, but of course Max doesn’t share the same sentiment as you. Because all he chooses to focus is the fact that you were on a plane – a 0.23% risk out of very 7.7 million flights each year, but still. He spends at least half an hour, just checking you over and assuring himself that you and the baby are fine; at some point he decides that you need to go to the nearest hospital to get an ultrasound just to make sure the baby is okay, but you tell him to fuck off and calm his tits down in the kindest way possible. And that’s how the two of you end up on the small couch in his driver’s room, with his arms around you as you lay between his legs, his hands splayed on the swell of your stomach as he caresses the skin through the fabric of your dress. His voice is low as he tells you about his day, mostly media duties since it is only Thursday, and how he thinks putting a cat tree in the nursery is a bad idea (that was your idea initially, but you can see how having two rumbunctious cats hang out in the nursery could cause problems). 

“I also thought about something else,” he mumbles, suddenly busying himself with the flower pattern of your dress instead of looking at you.  

You raise your brows slightly, motioning him to continue, but let out a huff when he doesn’t do so right away. “Come on,” you whine softly, “tell me what it is Maxie.”  

“I don’t want him to get into karting.” His words are soft, mumbled, and most definitely final. You know how Max can be when he puts his mind into it, and this particular topic has been a discussion in your household ever since the two of you found out that you were having a boy. “I don’t want him to go through what I went through.” 

Letting out a soft exhale, you motion Max to six next to you on the couch. “He won’t,” you assure him, voice soft as you give pleading looks at him, “you’re not your father, Max.” He gives you a look that basically begs for you to not dwell on the topic, but you continue despite the look he gives you, “And what if he wants to get into karting? Are you going to tell him no?” 

Max tries his best to ignore the knowing look you give him, knowing very well that he won’t be able to ever say ‘no’ to his son, who already has him wrapped around his finger. “I might do that, you never know.” He grumbles, hiding his face in your hair – though the soft giggles coming from you manages to put a soft smile on his face. “You’re supposed to agree with me, you know, we have to be a united front.”   

“We’ll discuss it when the baby comes, until then, I’ll be the voice of reason.” You emphasise, poking him at his bicep to convey your point. “You feel better now?” 

“Kinda,” he murmurs, leaving small kisses onto the exposed skin of your shoulder as he keeps on murmuring against your skin, “I would feel better if I knew you stayed in bed all day, relaxing.” 

With that, you choke a loud laugh, and motion him to stand up as you try to do it yourself – though, of course, he has to help with the baby bump being in the way of you doing any sort of physical activity. “You’re funny, let’s go get me ice cream.”  

The only response you get back is a confused look from your husband, his head tilted to the side as he eyes you warily. “What does that have to do with anything?” 

“Um, excuse me?” You raise an eyebrow, “Your son,” pointing to your stomach, you emphasise your words, “is craving ice cream right now.”  

Max’s eyes soften instantly, and a smile creeps across his face. He nods, taking your hand gently as he helps you up. “Well, if my son wants ice cream, then ice cream he shall have.” 

You giggle as you both make your way out of the driver’s room, Max's hand never leaving yours. The paddock is bustling with activity, but for a moment, it feels like it's just the two of you, cocooned in your little world. As you approach the nearest concession stand, Max’s protective instincts kick in once again. “Is this ice cream stand safe? How long have they been here? Do they have the proper health certifications?” 

You roll your eyes playfully. “Max, it’s ice cream, not a five-course meal. I’m sure it’s fine.” He sighs but nods, deciding to trust your judgment. After all, you did manage to fly all the way here without incident and somehow alerting him. You both get a generous serving of your favourite flavours, and as you sit down to enjoy your treat, you feel a sense of normalcy and contentment wash over you. 

Max watches you with a tender expression, his eyes filled with a mixture of love and worry. “I know I can be overprotective,” he says softly, reaching out to brush a stray hair from your face, “but it’s only because I love you so much.” 

You smile, leaning into his touch. “I know, Max. And I love you too. But sometimes, you need to trust that everything will be okay. We’ll figure things out together, just like we always do.” 

He nods, his gaze shifting to your belly. “You’re right. I guess I need to talk to my mom.”  

“Why?” You ask, tilting your head to the side in curiosity.  

“Well, she promised me she’d look after you but you’re here, so I think we need to have a talk about not keeping secrets from each other.” He mumbles, dragging a hand down his face. 

You laugh, nudging him playfully. “Oh, Maxie, who do you think helped me with my bags at the airport? Your mom is unsurprisingly a strong woman.” 

He chuckles softly, shaking his head. “I should’ve known better than to think you’d stay put for a whole month.” He sighs, but there’s a smile playing on his lips. “Alright, but next time, at least let me know you’re planning something. My heart can only take so much.” 

Max feels a lot better after tricking you with ice-cream into at least staying put withing the Red Bull hospitality for the day as he gets through his media duties. Max feels a lot better after tricking you with ice cream into at least staying put within the Red Bull hospitality for the day as he gets through his media duties. He periodically checks in, making sure you're comfortable and well-fed. Each time he sneaks a glance your way, you catch him with a knowing smile and a roll of your eyes, and he returns it with a wink. He knows that there is absolutely no reason for him to be checking on you as much as he does, because you’ll be fine in the cool hospitality suite with enough water to keep you hydrated for years, but he can’t help but worry about anything and everything going wrong. And his worries prove to be true when he sees the one person who he definitely doesn’t want around you.  

“What are you doing here?” He asks the approaching figure, “I thought you were not going to be coming to this race but the next one.”  

“Given the drop in your performance in the last few races I thought I should be here for... support.” His dad supplies, eyes finding you behind his son’s back on one of the couches in the hospitality, “And I can see the reason for why you’ve been distracted lately, what is she doing here?”  

Max scoffs, crossing his arms on his chest protectively, “She’s my wife, she is more than welcome to be here.” 

“She’s also a distraction, Max,” his father points out, “you’re going to lose your focus if you keep–” 

Since Max is faster than his father where it matters the most, he cuts him off before he can say anything further. “Leave, I don’t want you here.” 

Max’s father looks taken aback, his eyes widening momentarily before they narrow into a scowl. “Excuse me?” he says, his voice low and dangerous. 

“You heard me,” Max replies firmly, his stance unwavering. “I don’t want you here if you’re going to criticize my wife and stress me out, or worse, stress her out.” 

“You’re being irrational,” his father argues, taking a step closer. “I’m just trying to help you stay focused.” Seeing that his son is not going to back down anytime soon, he points a threatening finger towards him. “I’ll be back on race day, but you better be ready to put in a winning performance,” his father finishes, his voice laced with finality. He turns on his heel and walks away, leaving a tense silence in his wake. 

Max sighs deeply, running a hand through his hair as he watches his father disappear into the crowd. Looking back at you over his shoulder, talking to some interns from the social media team, he can’t help but feel the dread of you having to face his father – which gives him another reason to somehow stop the two of you from running into each other during the weekend.  

On Friday, Max’s luck decides to do him a favour as you tell him that you’re not feeling well enough to go to the track with him for the qualifying, and though it is true that he wants you to be with him, he also realises that this will give him one less thing to worry about. He knows how stressful it can be for you to navigate the bustling paddock and deal with the crowds, especially with the added pressure of possibly encountering his father. 

“You rest up, okay?” he says, his voice full of concern. “I'll be back as soon as I can. If you need anything, just call me.” 

You nod, giving him a reassuring smile. “I will, Max. Good luck today. We'll be cheering you on from here.” 

Max leans down to kiss your forehead gently as he mumbles into your skin, “I love you.”  

“I love you too,” you reply, your voice soft and comforting, “be careful out there, okay?” 

Max has one goal throughout qualifying, and to his team principal’s dismay, it is not being on pole. His one and only goal is to get the session done with as quickly as possible and get back to you as soon as he can. After the session ends, he barely waits for the car to come to a stop before jumping out and heading straight for the hospitality suite. His team notices his urgency but knows better than to question it once he tells them he’ll pay whatever fine the FIA will give him for missing his interviews. 

Bursting through the door, Max finds you resting comfortably on the couch, a cup of tea in your hands. The sight of you immediately calms his racing heart. “Hey,” he says softly, walking over to sit beside you. “How are you feeling?” 

You smile up at him, still in his team gear and the hat he almost never takes off, the warmth in your eyes easing his worries. “Better, now that you're here. How did it go?” 

“Starting on pole,” he replies, mostly in a mumble, taking your hand in his. “But all I could think about was getting back to both of you.” 

You squeeze his hand, your expression tender. “I'm proud of you, Max. You did great.” 

He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “Thanks. Let's just relax for the rest of the day, hm? I want to hold you to make sure you’re not getting out of this bed until tomorrow.” 

“You know, I would be happier about this proposal if it was until different circumstances,” you sigh, earning a laugh from him as he pulls you towards his chest, being careful not to spill your tea, of course. Why? Because it is a safety hazard, of course. 

As you settle back into the bed together, Max feels a sense of relief wash over him. The stress of the day melts away in your presence, and he realizes how much he needs these quiet moments with you to forget all about the outside world and focus his energy on what actually matters instead. 

The next day, feeling much better, you prepare to join Max at the track for the race. He’s still concerned but reassured by your determination to support him. As you arrive at the paddock together, Max is more attentive than ever, keeping an eye out for his father in hopes of trying to prevent the two of you running into each other. Navigating through the bustling paddock, Max keeps a protective arm around your waist, and a hand on your bump whenever the two of you stand somewhere talking to someone, guiding you through the throngs of people. His eyes constantly scan the crowd, his jaw set in a determined line. The other drivers and team members greet you warmly, and you return their smiles, feeling the anticipation that surrounds you. 

“Max, relax a bit,” you whisper, squeezing his hand as you notice the tension in his posture. 

He glances down at you, his expression softening slightly. “I just want to make sure everything’s okay.” 

“I know,” you reply, reaching up to stroke his cheek, “but we’re here to enjoy the race and support you. Try to focus on that.” 

He nods, taking a deep breath as both of you make your way to the Red Bull hospitality area. The team welcomes you with open arms, and you settle into a comfortable spot where you can watch the preparations for the race. He asks one of the interns to keep an eye on you, which he thought he was being sly whilst doing it, but you of course catch him in the corner of your eye. That’s when you realise the man walking towards him, your eyes meeting in nothing short of disdain for each other.  

You stiffen slightly, your hand tightening around Max’s hand as he turns just in time to see his father approaching, his protective instincts kicking into high gear as he lets go of your hand and decides to wrap his arm around you protectively instead. 

“Max,” Jos says, his tone neutral but carrying an underlying condescension. “We need to talk before your race begins, walk with me.” 

Max's grip tightens around you for a moment before he reluctantly loosens his hold. “What is it, Dad?” he asks, his voice steady but tinged with irritation. 

Jos's eyes flicker to you before focusing back on Max. “I wanted to discuss strategy, but I can see this isn't a good time.” 

Max's jaw clenches, his protective instincts on high alert. “If it's important, we can talk here. I’m not leaving her side.”  

Jos sighs, clearly frustrated. “Fine, if that's how you want it.” 

Max’s arm remains firmly around you as his father steps closer. “Make it quick,” Max insists, his tone leaving no room for argument. If other people were to see your eyes moving from one Verstappen to the other, they’d probably think you are watching a tennis match, though the situation in front of you is certainly more tense than that. 

Jos glances at you once more before addressing Max. “I just wanted to remind you to stay focused. Pole position is a great start, but you need to keep your head in the race.” 

Max's eyes narrow, and he lets out a scoff, “I know how to do my job, no need for reminder. Anything else?” 

Jos shakes his head, his expression a mix of disappointment and resignation. “Just don’t let distractions cost you the win.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Max hisses, taking a step towards his father as he gently pushes you behind himself. You have to put a hand against his chest to slow him down, though that doesn’t prove to be a sufficient prevention method. “I already told you; she is my wife, and he is not going anywhere so you better get that into that damaged brain of yours.” 

“Max,” you try to plead with him, “please, not before your race.”  

He gives you a look over his shoulder for a short moment before turning back towards his father. His jaw is set as he looks at the man in front of him. “I’ll only tell you this one more time. When she’s here with me, you don’t show up. If you do show up, you don’t come near her, you don’t talk to her, you don’t even look at her.” Another step taken towards his father has you tightening your hold on him, but he still manages to convey his message. “Try something like this again, and you won’t be in my life anymore let alone my son’s.” 

Jos's lips press into a thin line, his eyes darting to you briefly before settling back on Max. “Fine,” he repeats, his tone colder. “Just remember what’s at stake every time you get behind the wheel.” 

Max stands his ground, his eyes locked onto his father's, unwavering. “I know exactly what's at stake, and I don't need you reminding me. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have a race to focus on.” 

Max stands his ground, his eyes locked onto his father's, unwavering. “I know exactly what's at stake, and I don't need you reminding me. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have a race to focus on.”

It’s not the first time Max has stood up to his father, not by any means. But you can tell that this time affects him in a different way. The weight of the words exchanged and the implications for their future relationship linger in the air. You can feel the tension radiating from Max as he watches his father walk away, and it takes a moment for him to relax his posture and turn back to you. “Please tell me something that will calm me down so I don’t somehow do something that would put me to jail.”

“Okay,” you singsong, quickly positioning yourself in front of him so that you can fix him with a strict look on your face. “You are not doing something that will put you into prison, period.”

“I’m going to need a very good reason because all I want to do right now is follow him to his car and punch him.” Unfortunately for you, the way his jaw is set is a telling sign that, no, Max would actually do something like this given the circumstances.

“There is no sim racing in prison.” You try to provide, giving him a weak smile.  

Max's lips twitch into a small, reluctant smile at your words, the tension in his jaw easing slightly. “No sim racing in prison, huh? Do you honestly think that would keep me from doing something stupid?” 

“I panicked!” You exclaim, hitting him on his chest lightly as he laughs at you silently. “How are you supposed to help me raise our son,” you point to your stomach to emphasise your point, “if you’re in prison, huh?”

Max's smile grows wider, the tension in his posture finally starting to melt away. “Okay, okay, you’ve got a point,” he says, placing his hands on your shoulders and looking into your eyes. “I need to be here for both of you. But it’s so damn hard to ignore him.” 

You reach up and cup his face in your hands, your eyes soft and filled with understanding. “I know, but you’re stronger than him. And you have more important things to focus on. Like winning this race and getting me more ice cream on our way back to the hotel.” 

He takes a deep breath, nodding slowly as he lets out a soft chuckle. “You’re right. I can’t let him get to me. Not today.” 

“Exactly,” you say, giving him a reassuring smile, “I usually am.” 

Max laughs, the sound lightening the mood even more. “Yes, you usually are,” he agrees, pulling you closer for a brief kiss. “Thank you for always knowing how to calm me down.” 

“That’s what I’m here for,” you say, resting your forehead against his. “Now, go out there and show everyone what you can do. We’ll celebrate with ice cream afterward.” 

“Deal,” he replies, his eyes twinkling with affection and determination. With one last squeeze, he lets you go and turns towards his team, his focus now fully on the race ahead. “But I feel like I need to let you know that I would definitely go to prison for life for you.” 

You laugh, shaking your head. “Don’t you have a race to win, Verstappen?” 

He grins, giving you one last kiss before heading off to prepare for the race, giving you a grin over his shoulder as he starts to move away, “So, I’ll get the rest of that kiss after the race, then?” 

“Yeah, Max,” you let out a breathy laugh, your eyes not leaving his for a moment, “after the race!” 

DON'T LEAVE ME

Ollie Bearman X fem!reader

Summary: When Ollie accompanies Y/n to her endoscopy. The anesthesia can make her say funny things, but also, some questions that make Ollie's heart break.

Words: 3.0K+

Warnings: Mention of the hospital, surgery (but nothing serious), Y/n under anesthesia, cute, funny, a bit of insecurity, mention of Y/n's almost profession, anguish, but romantic and happy ending.

Author: English is not my first language, so apologies for any spelling mistakes and slang that may be in the story. ❤️🇧🇷

MASTERLIST

Ollie wasn't the type to pass up any opportunity to take care of Y/n—not even when she said, with all the firmness in the world, that everything was fine, that it was just an endoscopy check-up, nothing serious.

But for him, there was no such thing as "anything major" when it involved her.

"What if I let you go alone and you, numb, start telling me everything we do in a room? No, no! I need to be there to ensure my reputation!" He said with a mischievous smile, drawing a rolled, but amused, look from her.

Now, a few hours later, Ollie was alone in the room where Y/n would recover. He was sitting in an armchair in the corner, his cell phone in his hands, but his eyes fixed on the screen without really taking anything in. His leg was bouncing up and down, fast, as if his body reflected the silent whirlwind of his mind.

He knew, rationally, that it was a simple procedure. She herself had explained it a thousand times. But the most idiotic and unwanted thoughts insisted on going around in his head, creating catastrophic scenarios.

It was disgusting how anxiety acted like that.

The door opened with a soft creak and a friendly nurse smiled at Ollie. Right behind, the doctor was pushing a wheelchair where Y/n was sitting, her head resting on her hand and her eyes blinking slowly, completely groggy.

Ollie smiled the moment he saw her. He jumped up from his chair, his heart relieving just seeing that familiar, yet somewhat lost, face.

"She's still under the anesthesia." The doctor explained, stopping beside the bed. "The procedure went excellently, we didn't find any abnormalities, everything was clean.

Ollie let out a sigh of relief, resting his hands on his hips.

"Thank God." He murmured with a tender smile.

The nurse began to help Y/n out of the chair and put her on the bed. She snuggled into the pillow almost immediately, with that lazy and cute movement of someone who just wanted to go back to sleep.

"She may say some nonsense because of the anesthesia, but it should pass within 30 minutes to 1 hour." The doctor completed. "If she exhibits anything else out of the ordinary, notify the nurses' desk down the hall."

"Okay, I'll do that if I need to." Ollie nodded. The doctor and nurse left the room, closing the door behind them.

Ollie stood there for a few seconds, watching Y/n lying there, her eyes heavy. A warm relief filled his chest. He approached carefully, arranging the blanket about her. He sat down next to her, again in the armchair, holding her hand between his, observing every detail.

Y/n slowly opened her eyes and frowned when she saw him. "Where am I?"

"Hospital."

She looked around.

"Hospital?"

Ollie nodded, trying to hold back his laughter.

"Damn... I wish I was in a diamond castle like Barbie's and had a prince charming as my chauffeur."

"Look, this isn't a diamond castle and I'm not a prince, but I can be your private driver."

She smiled, still a little dazed, with a small smile. "As long as there's music in the car and you buy me a milkshake later..."

"Deal" Ollie said, chuckling and patting her hand lightly.

Y/n looked at their intertwined hands and frowned.

"Hey, you can't hold my hand like that... I have a boyfriend and I love him so much." She let go of his hand and ducked under the covers. Ollie laughed.

"Wow! Passed the loyalty test and everything. Wow!" Y/n made a confused face, and he leaned in with a smile. "It's me, Y/n. Oliver. Your boyfriend."

She pushed herself up a little, supporting herself on her elbows, and Ollie stepped closer to make sure she didn't fall over.

"My boyfriend? You?"

"Myself. Your boyfriend. With a ring and an apartment."

Y/n smiled as if she had won the greatest prize in the world.

"Ah... then I chose well."

Ollie's heart melted. He chuckled softly as she lay back down, gripping his hand more firmly.

"Do people live together?"

"Yes, we recently bought an apartment."

Her eyes widened. "Wow! That's really cool... how long have we been dating?"

"Let me think... about five or six years?"

"Wow, a really, really long time..."

"It's just that when I love, I stay." Ollie said with a sweet smile.

"If we've been together for so long... have you asked me to marry you yet?"

Ollie's eyes widened and he burst out laughing. "My God, you're really rude with these questions right now."

Y/n smiled, turning to him.

"How many times have we kissed? Do you remember the first time you saw me without makeup? It was horrible, wasn't it?"

Ollie laughed, confused by the bombardment.

"Okay, princess of the diamond castle! One question at a time!" He held up his hands. "Here we go: we've kissed more times than I can count, but I remember the first time—it was after the movies, you were wearing that silly strawberry sweatshirt. And the first time I saw you without makeup? It was perfect. Because you were just...you."

Y/n nodded slowly, looking around.

"Have we ever... you know... done adult dating things?"

Ollie coughed in surprise. "OH MY GOD, Y/N! You're putting me in a very unfair situation here!"

She chuckled softly. "Just scientific curiosity."

"Yeah, scientist, of course! I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that, crazy doctor." He said, squeezing her hand affectionately.

"If we had a child, do you think it would have your nose or mine?"

"Probably yours. Mine's kind of boring."

"Your nose is cute... it looks like an elevator button." She wrinkled her nose, smiling.

Ollie frowned, laughing. "What?"

"Cute... makes you want to squeeze it."

"Now I'm scared you'll try to use my nose to get to the 12th floor."

Y/n smiled and began to blink slowly, looking at the ceiling. Ollie thought she was going to sleep and began to caress her hand and her brown locks lightly, lulling her to rest. But she opened her eyes again.

"Did you know that octopuses have three hearts? And that they dissolve if they get too sad?"

Ollie arched an eyebrow.

"That explains why you cry when you watch margarine commercials. You're an octopus!"

"It's not because of the margarine... it's the warm bread..."

"Of course, the drama of warm bread." He replied, smiling.

"You know what else? I once read that sleeping in a spoon position helps with immunity..."

"So we'll live to be a hundred years old."

"Yes..." She stirred happily in bed. "Or until the bones turn to fairy dust."

"That's it, love. Until our bones turn to Tinker Bell dust."

Her eyes lit up at that reference. "I remember I really wanted to be Tinkerbell when I was little..."

"Did you wish you had wings?"

"No. I wanted to throw magic dust at others and fly away when they scolded me."

Ollie laughed.

"Fair enough. Very emotionally healthy."

"I also had a phase where I thought Peter Pan was my boyfriend. Sorry, my love."

"No hard feelings. I'll just keep an eye out if he shows up in a green leotard."

She laughed, still a little groggily, and then turned around, a fond smile on her face.

"You're so beautiful, you know that?"

"Thanks, honey... do you still think I'm cute? I've been up all night and my hair is all messed up."

Y/n squeezed his hand lightly.

"Yes... looks like an angel... tired... but an angel."

"An angel on duty?"

"Exactly." She smiled, her eyes closing. "And you smell nice... like home... like my favorite pillow."

Ollie squeezed her hand and murmured, "You're my favorite pillow too, for the record."

The room was silent, muffled by a soft light that filtered through the window. And Y/n sighed, tired, her eyes fixed on a random spot on the wall.

"Back to talking about marriage..."

Ollie's eyes widened slightly, surprised by the sudden change of subject. But she continued, calmly, as if it had been on her mind for some time.

"Do you think if we got married, we should get a dog or a turtle?"

Ollie smiled, letting his body sink a little deeper into the chair.

"Hmm... dog, but only if he likes sleeping late and eating leftover pizza."

"What if we had a house with a balcony? One of those with a hammock..."

"And a giant couch, with room for your cold feet," Ollie added, still smiling.

She let out a muffled chuckle.

"And the walls would be yellow." Y/n hums.

"I didn't approve of that, calm down." Ollie said, amused.

Y/n paused for a moment, her eyes still on the wall, and she became serious. "Okay, okay, love. I'm sorry..."

Ollie held back a laugh. It was so like her to apologize for the silliest things.

And silence filled the room again. She closed her eyes, relaxing, almost giving in to sleep. Ollie reached out and began to gently stroke her hair. The only sound she could hear was the muffled rumble of the city.

Suddenly, she began to laugh softly, as if she had heard something that only she could understand.

"Listen, listen..." Ollie looked at her curiously. "My heart is singing..." She laughed again, softly, delighted with her own sentence.

Ollie frowned and laughed along.

"Are you sure you're just numb or did you end up drinking alcohol in there?"

Y/n didn't respond, she just kept laughing as if the world was lighter. Then he hummed some made-up tune.

She opened her eyes and saw Ollie smiling at her goofily. Suddenly, her eyes widened, as if a penny had just dropped.

"OMG, I REMEMBER! You're a Formula 1 driver!"

Ollie laughed, delighted.

"Yes, and you fell in love with a crazy guy who runs at 300 Kilometers per hour"

"Have you ever wanted to honk your horn in the middle of a race?"

"Love, there's no horn on an F1 car."

"So how do you curse others?"

"With the hand and with the radio."

Y/n laughed, finding that the funniest thing in the world.

"Are you the type to swear nicely or swear badly?"

"It depends. If it's Verstappen, I'll swear badly."

She put her hand over her mouth, feigning shock. "OLLIIIEE!"

"You just asked me!"

She blinked slowly and murmured, her eyes dreamy, "Have we ever taken a bath together? Like, a real bath..."

Ollie couldn't contain his laughter and closed his eyes.

"Bath? What do you mean 'a real bath'?"

"I really do. With shampoo, conditioner and everything..."

"We've drowned in soap suds a few times."

Y/n blushed. "That sounds a lot like us."

"Yeah!"

She turned slightly in bed.

"I'm really weird, right? Kind of silly, kind of lost..."

"You look beautiful."

"You are obliged to say that."

"No. I'm your boyfriend. And your number one fan. I say that by choice."

Y/n smiled, her eyes slightly teary. "I like it when you talk like that. It makes my heart stop hurting."

"Was it hurting?" Ollie asked cautiously.

"No..."

Ollie laughed. But she frowned.

"But would you love me if I were a worm?"

The pilot's eyes widened. "A worm?"

"You wouldn't love it, right?..." Y/n began to cry silently. Ollie leaned over, concerned, and gently wiped her face.

"Hey, hey. I would love you if you were a worm, okay? I would make a garden just for you to roam free and eat dirt..."

"Thank you..." She sniffs.

"You're welcome, love!" The pilot smiles, holding back his laughter.

The room became quiet again. Ollie continued to caress her hair, and Y/n settled down, curled up, warm under the blanket. She seemed to have fallen asleep. He smiled, relieved, and picked up his phone, scrolling slowly.

But then, in a low voice, she spoke again,

"Have you seen the other pilots' girlfriends? I mean... they're beautiful, aren't they?"

Ollie lowered his phone, alert.

"Beautiful...? In what sense?"

"They have these amazing jobs, like model, businesswoman, artist... You know? And me... I'm just an aeronautics student."

Ollie looked at her, surprised.

"Just an aeronautics student? Y/n, do you realize that? You're literally an airplane pilot! You're a thousand times more amazing than any of them!"

Y/n smiled slightly, hesitantly.

"But they always seem so confident, so collected. Beautiful. Elegant. I'm just... me."

Ollie leaned closer, his voice softer, "Are you just you? Y/n, you've always been true to who you are. And that's what made me fall in love the most. You have this light... this way of seeing the world with rocket eyes and a marshmallow heart."

Y/n chuckled softly, groggily.

"Rocket eyes, Ollie?"

"Yes! You see everything with intensity, passion. And even when you feel small, you keep trying. That is much bigger than any standard."

Y/n looked at him, still with tears in her eyes.

"Do you really think so?"

"I'm sure. And if one day you forget... I'll repeat it a thousand times. Because you're my standard." She reached for his hand. "I'm here reminding you that you're perfect and that I love you."

Her voice came out as a whisper lost in the sheets. "They have blonde hair... blue eyes... haven't you ever wondered if you'd be happier with someone like that?"

Ollie felt his chest tighten so much that it hurt to breathe. This wasn't just silly jealousy. It was insecurity, raw and alive, and he felt every crack of it echo through him.

Before he could respond, she continued.

"Do you think you'll ever get tired of me? Because... if you look at it, the other pilots' previous girlfriends were just like me. Simple. Students. From small families. And they traded them for powerful women... with blonde hair and eyes the color of the sea..."

The tears flowed soundlessly. Only then came a sniffle and a whisper. "I'm scared, Ollie..."

He felt his heart shatter. The air seemed trapped between his lungs. The pain of seeing her like this, so fragile, so overcome with fear, made him wish he could take every single one of those doubts away from her and cast them away forever.

Ollie sat up straighter, his eyes fixed on her. His voice was firm but thick with emotion.

"Honey, listen to one thing: I am NOT them. And you are NOT replaceable. I didn't fall in love with you because of the color of your eyes or your hair... I fell in love because when you talk about airplanes, your eyes light up. Because you dance barefoot around the house, with incredible energy. Because you are a captivating person who wins over everyone around you. Because you are a determined, strong woman who fights for her dreams. Because you make me laugh even when the world seems heavy. Because you ARE and always will be my best friend... And because, even when you are scared, you are the bravest person I know..." Ollie held back his own tears. "Because you, my love. Are the person I always waited to spend the rest of my life with. I love you so, so, SO MUCH. These last six years that I've been with you have been the best of my life, and I know that we will still have many happy years ahead of us. Because I want to marry you, build a family, travel the world and conquer the moon!"

Y/n cried helplessly, her eyes red. "Please, don't leave me..."

Ollie couldn't keep his distance any longer. He got up from the chair and lay down next to her, pulling her gently into his arms. Her body fit against his, her sobs still shaky but beginning to calm.

He hugged her tightly, feeling her heart beat fast against his chest. He kissed the top of her head, whispering.

"I will never leave you. Nothing in this world would make me change you. Because you are my home, Y/n. It's where my heart rests. Where my laughter lives. Where I am whole. And even if one day the whole world changes, I will continue to choose you. Every day."

Y/n closed her eyes, still sobbing softly, but holding tightly to his shirt, as if holding on to a promise. Ollie hugged her tighter, stroking her back slowly.

The room, previously illuminated by light, now seemed enveloped in the melancholy she exuded. He took a deep breath, pulling her closer and resting his chin on the top of her head.

"You don't need to be a model, or have eyes the color of the sea..." He began, his voice low and full of sincerity. "Because you are already all I need to see the sky."

Y/n, even with wet eyes, looked up at him, as if that affection was slowly sewing together every broken piece inside her. Ollie wrapped her even tighter, and with a slight smile on his lips, he continued.

"All I can think about is our future. I know how much you love making plans, so listen to mine..." His palm gently caressed her back, his fingers tracing a comforting path. "I want to be with you when you take your first solo flight." Ollie said, looking up at the ceiling as if he could see their sky there. "I want to be in the audience, screaming louder than everyone else, when you get your diploma. I want our house, with kids running around the yard, knocking over flowerpots and staining the walls."

Y/n smiled, even with tears in her eyes, and he noticed. He took advantage of the moment, pressing his forehead against hers.

"I want to be the guy who holds your hand when you think you can't... and reminds you that you can do anything, anything at all."

A softer sob escaped Y/n, as if her heart was being carefully cradled by his words.

"Besides..." Ollie chuckled, lowering his tone to a conspiratorial whisper. "Blue-eyed blondes? Pff. None of them look as good in army uniforms as you do."

Y/n let out a muffled chuckle, hiding her face in his neck, blushing.

"Because let me tell you..." He said with a smug smile. "You look extremely hot and sexy in them!"

She actually laughed now, still shy, and he took the opportunity to kiss her cheek affectionately, a long and secure kiss.

"Here it is..." Ollie murmured against her skin. "My favorite sound from the person I love the most."

Author: I would probably never be chosen, I'm a tall brunette, with brown eyes and from a small family hahahahah Just kidding.

look me in the eye | pt.3

pairing: max verstappen x rbr!engineer!reader

summary: the rb21 is unfixable-the whole world knows that, now-but you've become so much more than just his engineer and they should know that too.

a/n: i just...max verstappen...and thank you guys sm for the love you've shown this series! here is the last part <3

part one / part two / part three

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

The moment you step out of the storage room-you figured that out when Max shoved you against a nice metal rack and some probably important things crashed to the ground-reality crashes down on you like a tidal wave.

You just kissed Max Verstappen.

Max Verstappen just kissed you.

You don't know how it can get worse, but it will. He looks completely at ease, like he didn't just change the trajectory of your entire life in the span of a few heated seconds. Meanwhile, you feel like you're about to combust. Your lips are still tingling, your mind racing, and you’re suddenly hyperaware of the noise outside: the team is still celebrating, the media is still circling, and maybe you're being a little dramatic but people will want answers that you can't give.

Max notices your panic before you can even say anything. He leans in slightly, lowering his voice. "Breathe."

You shoot him a glare that lacks any real venom. "Don't tell me what to do."

His lips twitch. "Then don't look like you’re about to pass out." Which is ironic, because if he hadn't kissed you senseless, you probably wouldn't look like...whatever you look like right now. You need a mirror. Your hair is all messed up from the frenzy-his is too, though it suits his post-race look-and you straighten the collar of your shirt.

Damn you. You shove past him, desperate for space, for air, for something that isn't Max Verstappen and his infuriating ability to act like everything is fine. Your body betrays you, though, because even as you move, you feel his warmth lingering, his presence like a gravitational pull you can’t escape.

And then, as if the universe is determined to make your life a nightmare, Christian Horner appears. The devil himself.

You barely manage to school your expression into something neutral as he approaches, eyes sharp, mouth set in a line that promises nothing good.

"Max." He nods at Red Bull's star driver before turning to you. "We need to talk."

Max doesn't move. "She's busy," he quips.

You whip your head toward him, eyes wide. "Max."

Christian doesn't look amused. "Now."

You sigh, throwing Max one last look before following Christian into one of the back offices. The second the door closes, he lets out a heavy breath and pinches the bridge of his nose like he's trying to will away a migraine.

"You know why we're here."

You cross your arms, steeling yourself. "If this is about that stupid interview-"

"Stupid?" Christian cuts you off and his eyes narrow quickly. "Do you have any idea what you just walked into? The media is losing it. The fans are in a frenzy. And now I have PR breathing down my neck asking if Max Verstappen is in a relationship with one of his engineers."

This isn't good. No, not at all. Today is not a good day to have Christian Horner mad at you. "It's not-"

"It doesn't matter what it is," Christian interrupts. "Believe me. The only thing I care about is what it looks like."

You don't have an argument for that. Because he's right. Perception is everything in this sport, and right now, the perception is that you are tangled up in something that no team principal wants to deal with.

Christian sighs and it's like all his fury is evaporating. "Look. I really don't care what you do in your personal life. I don't even care what Max does, as long as he keeps winning. But I need to know if this is going to be a problem."

You hesitate. "Define 'a problem.'"

Christian levels you with a look. "Are you going to be a distraction? To him? To yourself?"

Your mind flashes back to the kiss, to the way Max looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered in that moment. Your heart stutters.

"No," you say, more firmly than you feel. "This doesn't affect my work."

Christian watches you for a long moment, then nods. "Good. Then handle it."

You swallow. "Handle it?"

"Either shut it down or control the narrative," he says. "But I don't want any more surprises."

You nod, even though you don't know what exactly you're affirming with that nod. The problem is, you don't know if you can shut it down. You don't know if you even want to.

When you leave the office, Max is leaning against the wall, waiting. Of course he is.

He leaps up when he sees you. "What did he say?"

"That I need to handle it," you explain.

Max’s expression doesn’t change. "And are you going to?

"I don’t know."

There it is again. You can't read Max Verstappen. He asks, "Do you want me to?"

All your problems come from the same thing-you should say yes, no, whatever it takes to shut down all this that's happening. You should make him go on some press circuit and laugh it off as a misunderstanding, to make sure your name isn't attached to his ever again. You should be walking away from this mess because it's not part of your job description and getting involved with an athlete never seems to end well. Even if it's Max Verstappen.

But you don't.

You never do, it seems.

Instead, you look at him: the way his jaw is clenched, the way his fingers twitch like he wants to reach for you but won't unless you let him, and you keep making the same choice.

"I think," you say carefully, "we should talk."

Max’s lips curve slightly. "Dinner?"

You groan, shoving his shoulder. "Not helping."

His laugh is soft, but there's something else in his eyes now. Something serious. "Then let’s talk."

It's been a long time coming, but right there, you realize you're past the point of no return.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

The ride back to the hotel is suffocating. Not the air-no, the air-conditioning in Max's car is great, thankfully, because it sure cost a lot-but because Max is sitting next to you, silent, his fingers drumming against his thigh so close to you if he shifts just a little his hands will be on yours. You push that thought aside. Now's not a good time to get worked up over him. Not now.

You should say something. You should clear the air. But every time you open your mouth, nothing comes out. Instead, you replay everything in your head: the kiss, the way he looked at you after, Christian's warning, and the way Max had asked if you wanted him to handle it. Like it was his responsibility. Like he was willing to do whatever you asked, even if it meant pretending none of this ever happened.

The thought unsettles you more than it should.

"You're thinking too much."

You blink, snapping out of your spiral. Max is watching you instead of the road. Stupid, stupid.

You roll your eyes. "And you’re not thinking at all."

He smirks, eyes darting back forward for a moment before they rest on your face. "That’s not true. I'm thinking about dinner."

"Max, this isn't a joke." You let out a frustrated sigh, turning to face him.

"I know." He's suddenly serious, his voice quieter. "That's why we should talk. Properly. Without Christian breathing down your neck."

You hesitate. You know he's right. You can't keep avoiding this, can't pretend that what happened in the storage room didn't just flip your world upside down. But you also don't know how to have this conversation without risking everything.

Max waits patiently, letting you come to your own conclusion. He always does that. He gives you space, but never too much. Always just enough to make sure you don’t run.

"Fine," you mutter. "But not dinner. We saw how that went."

He raises a brow. "Drinks?"

"No."

"A walk, then."

You sigh, but you don't argue. You suppose a walk is neutral territory. You can talk without the pressure of sitting across from him at a table, without the weight of eye contact that lasts too long.

When you arrive at the hotel, you don't give yourself time to hesitate. You step out, waiting for him, and he follows without question after tossing his keys at the valet. There's a cool breeze, and you focus on that instead of the way your fingers still tingle from where they brushed against Max's earlier.

You walk side by side, the silence stretching, but it isn't uncomfortable. It never is. That’s part of the problem, isn't it? It's always been too easy with him.

"I meant what I said," Max finally says. "I don't want this to be a problem for you."

"It's not that simple, Max."

"It could be."

You huff out a short laugh. "For you, maybe."

He stops walking, and you do too, turning to face him. There's something in his expression that makes your breath catch.

"I like you," he says, and your heart stutters. "And I think you like me too."

You swallow hard. "Max-"

"I know it's complicated. I know Christian is watching us like a hawk. I know you're worried about your job, your reputation." His voice is steady, unwavering. "But I'm not going to pretend this isn't happening just because it's inconvenient."

Your mouth feels dry. It does sound simple when he's saying it.

"Tell me to stop. Tell me this is nothing, and I'll walk away."

You hate him for that. Hate him for putting the choice in your hands, for making you responsible for whatever happens next.

But you don't tell him to stop. You don't say anything at all. You look at him clearly: this man you've watched grow up from a boy. You've seen him destroy things in fits of rage after bad races, you've seen him beam like the sun, and you've seen the way his eyes turn stormy oceans when they look at you. He sees you too.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

bahrain 2025 post-race interview

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

y/n 🌎 gee, max, you're going to get to my ego

y/n 🌎 first "my everything," then "the constant"

y/n 🌎 and what's that about always? i don't believe that.

my mashed potato Are you referring to us or you being the constant? Because I don't believe in that either, but you have me as long as you want

y/n 🌎 are you SERIOUSLY CHECKING YOUR PHONE DURING AN INTERVIEW

y/n 🌎 sorry for all caps i just like it a lot when you get all romantic

my mashed potato i know ❤️

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

a/n: max verstappen and 3-post series are very special to me

DOWN BAD

pairing: charles leclerc x singer reader

summary: the one where she falls into a depression, her brother picks his side and lando moves on all to quickly

warning:

a/n:

face claim: madison beer :)

f1 masterlist

main masterilst

series masterlist

f1gossip has posted

liked by 2, 495 users

f1gossip lando norris and magui corcerio spotted out recently

user1 i actually think they're pretty cute

user2 idc i miss yn and lano

-> user3 right? i wanna know the tea tbh

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

"Y/n? Oh baby." Bsf muttered after opening the door to Y/ns bedroom. Her best friend immediately wrapped her arms around the girl, pulling her into her chest. Y/n began to sob, her chest heaving as everything came crashing down. "I can't do this, I mean its so stupid we weren't even together and I…" Bsf rubbed her arms up and down the younger girls back. "Shhh, just let it all out honey, I've got you." Her knees immediately gave out and the pair sunk to the floor together, bsf being Y/ns life line. "I'm so stupid." Y/n whispered. "No you're not stupid, you were just in love." And Y/n clung to the one person she knew would never leave her.

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

ynspriv has posted

liked by bsfuser, thatgolfergirl and 20 others

ynspriv fuck all men honestly. and fuck everything if i cant have him. atleast i got a dog now. his name is bear.

bsfuser oh honey im so sorry

-> ynspriv its alright

thatgolfergirl we should have a girls night

-> ynspriv alright

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

carlossainz55

liked by lando, charlesleclerc and 235, 495 others

carlossainz55 the best golf buddy lando

lando ⛳

-> carlossainz55 🏌️

charlesleclerc nice

liked by carlossainz55

-> user1 MY CHARLOS HEART 😭😭

user2 CARLANDO

-> user3 a reunion is just what i needed

user4 nah you wrong for this idc

user5 anyone else think this is dodgy asf after the whole yn lando situation

-> user6 they were just friends calm down

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

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

Y/n wasn't sure how much she had drunk at that point, she did know that it was way more than she should've however. Lily and Alex were somewhere on the dancefloor, while best friend was grabbing the group another round of drinks.

Y/n quickly downed the shot that her best friend had given her before dragging her to the dance floor, "Come on I wanna dance." She said loudly as they made their way to the middle of the club.

It was a while before Bsf spoke up again, shouting loudly that she was gonna go to the toilet before wondering of. Y/n nodded aggressively before continuing to dance, as she did she stumbled, nearly face planting if a pair of strong arms hadn't wrapped her her waist to steady her.

She turned around to thank whoever had helped her but faltered when she heard a familiar voice. "Be careful, wouldn't want a pretty thing like yourself to trip." She rolled her eyes, ignoring the soft looking the man was giving her.

He went to say something but paused, shaking his head lightly, instead saying. "Little Sainz, I haven't seen you around recently."

She rolled her eyes harder than before, "Fuck off leclerc." She said loudly, the pair ignoring the fact that he still hadn't let her go.

He tilted his head slightly, slowly withdrawing his hands from her waist, "Testy testy, and here i thought we were friends."

"I don't like you, ergo your not my friend." Charles' eyes scanned her face, instantly noticing the tear tracks.

"Are you okay?" He asked her gently, his gaze intense, nearly making her melt.

"And why wouldn't I be." She questioned him, tilting her head slightly, ignoring the fact that their was no space between them.

He held his hands up, "I was just checking."

Her gaze narrowed at him as she cleared her throat, "Well, we're not friends, so theirs no reason for you to check up on me." She said sharply before turning around to find Lily and Alex.

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

part 2, idk if i like it but here it is guyssssss. also oscar won miami guyssss. this ones goes out to all my 911 fans cause we're all in mourning atm.

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taglist @littlewhiterose @chlodavids @freyathehuntress @sadieurlady @pippyth3hippy @weekendlusting @ilovecharlesleclerc00 @loveitwhenhelies @bellsboops @wellimonlyheretoread @velentine @eugene-emt-roe @stinkyjax @catsdogs04 @coolcalmandc0llected @seonghwaexile @rosiemain @midnightbabylon @lil-soup @barzysreputation @gentlemonstersworld @imineverypossiblefandom @nichmeddar @formulaal @bia-wayne-west @eloriis @scorpiomindfuck @sesamepancakes @dilflover44 @primadonaprincess55 @angelluv16 @qghosty @sltwins @dark-night-sky-99 @alliwantisadonut @iambored24601

Eunoia // Ch. 20

eunoia (noun): beautiful thinking, the possession of a well-balanced mind, which exhibits goodwill and kindness

Pairings: Hybrid! BTS x reader

Summary: You are a world famous director and you have dedicated your life to your job.You have everything you could ever dream of; wealth, recognision, talent, your friends and family. But loneliness ins’t cured by success. So what happens when you somehow rescue seven hybrids? Can they fill the void?

Genre: Angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, eventual smut

Word Count: 10.7k+

Warnings: past abuse, past sexual abuse, cursing, past violence, mentions of blood

Masterlist

Chapter 1, Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 chapter 18 Chapter 19

Many thanks to my incredible beta reader <3

The taglist is now closed

Los Angeles wore its hot and dry summers with pride. You were sweating the moment you stepped out of the private jet, your shirt sticking to your back and your jeans stifling your legs. Above, there was no cloud in sight but an endless expanse of blue and the white-yellow of the sun. An orange hue tinted everything around you, strange and dizzying.

Inside the airport, the AC froze the sweat on your back bringing sweet relief to your burnt skin. The midday sun needed only a couple of minutes. Picking up your suitcases, you headed to the parking lot and got into the SUV. John got into the driver’s seat because when it came to John, he was always the one driving. He only allowed someone else to do the job when it was for official events like red carpets. Overseas, he would turn on the GPS and navigate the streets with ease.

You climbed into the backseat with Taehyung, reluctant to leave him alone. He had barely spoken a word to you the whole trip. He would answer every question with a nod and you were starting to doubt he could understand anything you were saying.

Half an hour into the flight, your eyes were drooping and John’s head was dropping back on his chair. You had been tired from promotions to begin with when you had first arrived in Seoul. The late hour of the auction, the anxiety, and the early visit to the police department had only made it worse. You woke up to the captain announcing you would be landing in ten minutes and to kindly put on your seatbelts.

You were finally back in Los Angeles, its beaches and palm trees. There had been a few dark moments in the blood-red ballroom that you had doubted you would see Los Angeles again. Maybe that’s why it looked more beautiful than ever because you had nearly lost it. One slip and your last memory of it would be watching it grow smaller through a jet’s window.

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