#dad!driver

[not-magdi]

-soft mornings / Lando Norris

Warnings : none (maybe some pregnancy-fever)

Words: 900

Reading time : 3min 45 sec

A/N

I‘m currently having the biggest baby fever, this was my inspiration for this post.

Hope you enjoy it!

Love you guys, Magdi <3

The soft light of the Monaco morning seeped through the sheer curtains, painting the bedroom in gentle hues of gold. Y/N stirred slightly, nestled against the warmth of Lando’s chest. His arm was draped protectively around her, his hand resting on the curve of her growing belly. She could feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing, a soothing rhythm that lulled her in and out of a comfortable haze.

“Morning, love,” Lando murmured, his voice thick with sleep as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. His curls tickled her cheek, and she couldn’t help but smile softly, her eyes still closed.

“Morning,” she whispered back, her voice barely audible as she shifted closer, burrowing herself deeper into his embrace.

Lando’s hand moved gently over her belly, his touch light but reverent. “And good morning to you too, little one,” he added, his tone warm and playful. He rubbed slow circles over the bump, his voice dropping to a soft murmur as he spoke to their baby. “You keeping Mum comfy in there? Let her sleep a bit longer today, yeah? You can kick me later if you want.”

Y/N chuckled softly at his words, her smile widening. “You talk to her more than you talk to me these days,” she teased, her eyes fluttering open to find Lando’s boyish grin.

“That’s because she listens to me,” he quipped, feigning a pout. Then, as if he couldn’t resist, he leaned down and placed a tender kiss on her belly. “You’re going to be a good listener, aren’t you, baby girl? Not like your mum.”

“Oi!” Y/N laughed, swatting his arm lightly, though the joy in her voice betrayed her attempt at being stern. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love me for it,” Lando countered, pulling her closer still. His arms wrapped around her fully now, his chin resting on her shoulder as he continued to cradle her bump.

They stayed like that for a while, tangled together in the warmth of their bed, until Y/N finally stirred, stretching slightly. “Alright,” she murmured, “I suppose we should get up before you smother me with affection.”

“Smother you? Never,” Lando teased, helping her sit up. “But fine, let’s get you fed. Can’t have my girls going hungry.”

———-

The kitchen was bathed in soft morning light as Lando rummaged through the fridge. “How about pancakes? Or eggs? Wait, no—both,” he said, his excitement bubbling over.

Y/N leaned against the counter, her hand resting on her belly as she watched him with a fond smile. “Both sounds good,” she agreed.

“Perfect.” Lando grinned and walked over to her, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead before crouching down to kiss her belly again. “Hear that, baby girl? Pancakes and eggs. You’ve got great taste, just like your mum.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but laughed, letting him take her hand and lead her toward the counter. “Alright, chef, tell me what to do.”

“You,” Lando said, spinning her gently and placing his hands on her shoulders, “are going to sit right here and supervise.” He pulled out a stool for her, making sure she was comfortable before diving into his pancake batter preparations.

But Y/N wasn’t one to sit still for long. “Lando, I’m pregnant, not incapable,” she protested, standing up to grab the whisk.

Lando gave her a playful pout but didn’t argue, instead sidling up beside her as they worked together. As Y/N whisked the batter, he wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. “Teamwork,” he murmured, swaying slightly with her.

“You’re clingy today,” Y/N teased, though she didn’t mind one bit.

“Just excited,” he admitted, his voice soft. His hands found their way to her belly again, rubbing gentle circles. “It’s getting so real, you know? She’s really in there.”

Y/N smiled, leaning back against him. “She is,” she said quietly, her free hand covering his.

As the batter was poured onto the pan, Lando suddenly said, “Speaking of her, we should really narrow down some names. I mean, we can’t just keep calling her ‘baby girl’ forever.”

Y/N laughed. “Alright, Mr. Planner. What’s on your list?”

Lando turned thoughtful, flipping a pancake before answering. “I like Ella,” he said. “Short, sweet. What about you?”

“Ella’s nice,” Y/N agreed, tilting her head. “I’ve always liked names like Sophie or Amelia. Something classic.”

“Amelia’s cute,” Lando said, testing the sound of it. “Amelia Norris. Sophie Norris. Hmm.” He glanced over his shoulder at her with a grin. “What if we went a little wild? Like Nova or Luna?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Nova? Are you trying to make her a future Formula 1 driver already?”

“Could be,” Lando said with a laugh. “We need a name with star power.”

“Well, let’s keep a few options in mind,” Y/N said, resting her chin on his shoulder as he plated the pancakes. “We’ve still got time to decide.”

“True,” Lando agreed, turning to kiss her cheek. “But whatever her name is, she’s going to be the luckiest little girl in the world. She’s got you as her mum.”

“And you as her dad,” Y/N countered, her voice full of warmth.

Lando’s grin softened, his eyes full of love as he pulled her in for a proper hug, one hand inevitably finding its way back to her belly. “She’s got us,” he said simply.

————-

Would you like me to make a little series out of this?

If yes let me know in the comments ! ❤️

[russellsppttemplates]

Carrying it all on your shoulders (Daniel Ricciardo)

Juggling two kids without Daniel proved to be harder than you thought

Note: english is not my first language. I don't get requests for Daniel that often, and dad!Daniel is very fun and cute to write!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: reader's self-doubt and low self esteem associated with motherhood and parenting, exhaustion, curse words

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"Y/N, are you sure you want to do it? I'll do it no problem", your colleague assured you, "even one of the interns can do it, Y/N! Seriously, go home earlier!", she offered.

"I can do it", you added, crossing over the task you had completed on your post it note and writing two more down, "Sophia just started her ballet class and Alice's nursery had a pantomime today so they're keeping the kids for a little longer", you winked at her, gathering the documents and getting ready to complete the task.

Lately, this was your routine. Drop the girls at school and nursery, head up to work, pick the girls up and drive home before homework, playtime, dinner time and then the bedtime routine. When Daniel was still home, it was usually him doing the school and nursery runs so it wasn't like it added a lot to your routine, but it requires more juggling than you initially thought.

By the time you finished the tasks, you were the only one left, shutting down your laptop and closing all of the doors once you had your belongings all packed into your bag, finally calling it a day and heading to your car.

Picking a very sleepy Alice from nursery and then a pouty Sophia from her ballet class, you tried your best to not bother the youngest one, "how was your class today, princess?", you wondered once you stopped at a red light, turning around slightly so you could look at your daughter's face.

"It was okay", she stated, remaining unusually quiet all the way back home as she looked outside the window.

"I'm going to put Alice down for a little nap and then I'll go and help you with your homework, okay?", you said to Sophia as she set her backpack down near her desk, "I don't have any today", she said, closing the door behind her as you walked to Alice's room, laying her down on the mattress and kissing the top of her head, feeling it warmer than usual.

"Oh, babygirl", you cooed, grabbing the thermometer from the medicine cubby and putting it on her ear, silently hoping it was just you.

A minute later, the result showed she was beggining to develop a fever. Sighing, you stored the thermometer in its box and got the medicine from your bathroom, grabbing the syringe to put it in her mouth when you managed to waker her up without a big fuss.

"I know you don't want this, baby", you cooed as Alice stirred in her sleep, big brown eyes looking up at you with tears welling up on them, "take this for mummy, okay?", you pleaded, "you'll feel better, my love", you said, holding her on your arms so she could fall asleep again.

The tiredness came over you pretty quickly, making you sit on the rocking chair, closing your eyes for a little bit and taking a deep breath. Because she was your second child, you didn't feel like the first time Sophia got sick. While in the first time, you ran around like a headless chicken, ready to bring her to the emergency room and messaging her pediatrician until both your parents' and Daniel's parents assured you and your husband you were doing just fine. So far, she didn't seem to bothered by it, just sleep, so you allowed yourself the moment to rest with her, rubbing her back and showering her with kisses and a good cuddle.

"Mummy?", Sophia asked, knocking on the door of her sister's room to announce she was coming in, "what are we having for dinner?", she asked, taking in the sight of you and her sister.

"Oh", you noted, not having given it much thought until that moment, "we can have spaghetti bolognese, I'll just have to boil some pasta - I think we still have some of those heart shapes pastas daddy brought home the other day -, or we could have some chicken nuggets and rice if you prefer that", you offered, thinking of the meal plan meals you had in the fridge as you didn't feel like cooking everything from scratch tonight.

"The spaghetti bolognese is fine", she whispered, coming closer to you and kissing her sister's hand, "is Alice sick?", she questioned.

"She has a bit of a fever, it's probably something she picked up from in nursery, you used to get these every now and again, too", you explained, brushing the curls away from her eyes, "she'll be fine though. Are you feeling okay, beautiful girl?", you checked with her, wanting to be prepared in case both kids came down with this bug.

"I feel fine", she assured you, kissing your cheek before she saw you get up and grabbing the sling, wrapping her sister against you, "do you want to help me with the pasta then?", you smiled, stretching your hand so she could grab it and you both could head to the kitchen.

"I'll set the plates", Sophias offered, making you kiss the top of her head as a thank you and going back to stirring the pasta while the sauce warmed up in another pot.

You ate the food in a quieter environment that usual, and while the reasonable voice in your head told you that it was due to the fact that everyone was a little tired, the snarky and mean one made you feel guilty.

As you washed up the pots and plates from dinner while Sophia spent some time watching cartoons on TV, your mind took you to the mom guilt feelings, rewinding back to all of the times in the last two weeks where you didn't spend time with either of them separately, all of the times where you had to rush to get out of the house all in one piece and all of the things you weren't doing well.

"Soph", you called, "I'm going upstairs to put Alice down, is there anything I can do for you before I go?", you wondered.

"Can I have your phone so I speak to daddy, please?", she asked, "he hasn't called today", she reasoned, "take it from my pocket, bub", you said, tuning your back to her slightly so she could retrieve the device from the denim material, "call me if you need anything, okay?", you checked with her, "okay, mummy! Night night, Alice, I love you", she waved at her sister who blew her a sloppy kiss.

Sitting down on the sofa, Sophia pressed Daniel's contact, smiling at the love heart on the contact despite having seen it many times before, "hey!", Daniel said, a little surprised to see the little girl's face instead of yours.

"Hi daddy!", she smiled, "mummy is putting Alice to sleep so I thought I'd talk to you for a bit", she said, "I have something to tell you".

"Oh, okay, tell me then", Daniel concerned, sensing that what your daughter wanted to tell him was something troubling her.

"I'm confused", she began, "do you remember that book you and mummy read to me and Alice? The one with the monster who is now doctor?", she tried as Daniel nodded.

Anna Llenas was one of your favourite authors for kids' stories and you always read them to your family. The way they spoke about their emotions and how to deal with them became a great tool to get them to talk openly about how they felt and Sophia seemed to be getting it.

"Yes, baby, what about it?", Daniel asked.

"I feel confused, because today I didn't really want to go to the ballet practice but I did it anyway", she said, "so I was really quiet and my friends noticed it, the teacher, too. And mummy, I think she's upset with me, too", she admitted.

"Well, do you remember what the turtle nurse did in the book?", Daniel questioned, "she had her first aid box full of things that make her heart feell warm and good", Sophia mumbled, "go and get it then, princess", Daniel urged.

Sophia pulled the box from under the sofa. The premise of the activity on the book as simple: the kids had to make a box full of things that helped them regulate their emotions and feelings when they felt confused, sad or anxious. While Alice was still too little to make one, Sophia loved the arts and crafts aspect of it and spent the whole afternoon with Daniel making her perfect first aid kit.

"Do you remember what we do with the bee drawing?", Daniel guided, "we take a big breath in, and then a big breath out", he exemplified, doing it three more times with her before speaking up again, "do you feel better?".

"I do, daddy", she said, fishing out something out of the box, "this is the pillow we made with mummy, she sewed it with my favourite soft fabrics", she smiled at the memory, rubbing it on her cheek, "and a picture of us, look!", she showed Daniel the frame with the picture of the first race Alice attended, the four of you in front of the motorhome with big smiles.

"That's right baby, we can also dance it out a little if you want", Daniel offered but she shook her head, showing him the empty bottle of medicine, "this is the 'No medicine', right?", she checked with him. The bottle was of course empty, but the idea was there.

"That's right! Sometimes we have to say no when we don't want to do some things", Daniel advised, remembering the story well enough without having the actual book in front of him, "to adults, we have to be more careful because there are things that we can't run from, but for your ballet classes, for example, you can say you don't want to go if you don't want to, sweetie", he told her earnestly.

"Okay daddy", she whispered, taking another deep breath with her finger following the wavy bee line on the drawing.

"Promise you'll tell me or mummy whenever that happens?", he asked, "I promise, daddy", she smiled, seeming calmer and happier now.

"That's great, Soph. I'm very proud of you for telling me that", he complimented, "Can I ask you about mummy, princess? Is she still upstairs?", he checked with her, not wanting her to think he didn't care about her anymore.

"Yes, daddy", Sophia smiled before pouting, "she's a little tired, and yesterday I think she was crying. I know I wasn't supposed to be up, but I forgot Snuggles by the door", she explained, mentioning her stuffed teddy that she loved to sleep with, "and when I went to pick it up, I heard mummy sniffling, she was doing it quietly but I heard it still", she told him.

Your daughter confirmed his suspicions. Before he left, you spoke about how you were going to handle two kids and your job, and while at the time it seemed good, the practical side of the conversation looked to be otherwise. He called everyday and he noticed you looking more tired each day, but he justified it on the adjustment. Eventually, there would be a day that you finally adapted to the routine, but that was wishful thinking.

"Soph, are you still on the phone with daddy?", you called from the corridor, loud enough for her to hear but quiet enough that it wouldn't disturb Alice in the sleep you worked so hard in getting her to.

"Hey, gorgeous", Daniel said as you appeared on the screen as Sophia handed you your phone back, "I'm going to get ready for bed, mummy, I'll wait for you when you can read my bedtime story", she smiled, kissing you cheek and saying goodbye to Daniel.

"How was your day?", he asked, "busy busy, but it's over now. Things are going at full speed. Sophia was a bit quieter when she arrived, but she seemed better - no need to rub it in that she's a daddy's girl -, and Alice has caught the bug that has been going around", you shrugged your shoulders, "her temperature is slowly cooling down, and other than that, she's fine", you sighed, "and yours?".

Daniel told you about his meetings, not wanting to pester you too much as he could sense the tiredness you felt, "I'll let you go rest, though. Have a good night, gorgeous", he blew you a kiss before your face disappeared.

Opening his laptop, he looked for a flight that would make him arrive just in time for school pick up, "I can't stay for the rest of the week", Daniel said to the members of the team on the meeting room, "Y/N and the girls need me back home, so if that's okay with you, we'll do these remotely", he half stated, looking for any signs of discontentment or disagreement.

As soon as he got the green light, he couldn't wait to finish that sponsorship content meeting, filming everything he needed to as quickly as possible before bidding goodbye to everyone, going back to the hotel room and pack everything up so he could go to the airport. A long flight away from his wife and kids and all would be well.

Alice didn't sleep all that well, and in turn neither did you, so you called in to work to let them know that you would be working from home as best as you could since your little girl was staying home for the day. Sophia seemed well that morning when you dropped her off at school, soothing your heart from the worries that had plagued you.

"It's me and you, baby girl", you said, kissing the top of her head as she slept on the sling, her fist grasping the fabric of your cardigan as you walked around the house, hoping to really settle her when you heard a car outside.

"Why does that look like daddy?", you mumbled out loud as if Alice could give you her opinion, focusing on the man walking up to the front door and giving you enough time to open it.

"Before you say anything, I had to do it and I won't go back", Daniel raised his hands once he set his luggage inside, closing the door behind him and kissing the top of your head and then Alice's as you stood there surprised.

"Danny, we didn't- I-", you tried, and as if your mouth wouldn't let you lie, the words didn't seem to come out of you.

"I came as soon as I could, and I should've come sooner", he said, "I want to be here for you as much as I can and I need to make sure my girls are okay - all three of them", he looked at you, "Soph told me she heard you crying", he stated as he got you to sit on the sofa in the living room.

"Another point for the greatest mother of the year award", you chastised yourself, taking a deep breath to level out your emotions.

"No, none of that", Daniel offered sternly, "you have been juggling everything on your own and it's harder that we originally thought it would be. I'm sorry it took me so long to come", he apoligised, hands undoing the sling so he could get Alice to rest against his chest instead.

"It's been a lot - and frankly, I haven't been very good at delegating at work", you chuckled, smiling at the delicious sight of a sleeping child on Daniel's chest.

"You also need the 'No medicine' Soph has in her box", he giggled despite the seriousness of the conversation, "I can see that you haven't slept all that much, so why don't you go and have a good sleep?", he suggested, "we'll talk a little bit more about this afterwards, but you need to rest first", he said, "I'll go and pick up Sophia, so you just stay here and take care of yourself, okay?", he said, tapping your butt playfully to get you to get up and head to your bedroom.

While you caught up on sleep, Daniel tidied the house as much as he could before picking up Sophia, who excitedly ran up to her father when she saw him and his sister on the parking lot, "Is mummy with you, too?", she wondered, "no, mummy is resting at home. We are going to get some food for dinner so we can all have a cosy night in, how does that sound?", he questioned, earning cheers from her and her sister who qas thankfully feeling much better, giggling in delight as she clapped her hands.

"Who's that? That's mummy, isn't she looking pretty today, Alice? Yes, she is!", Daniel said as you walked into the kitchen, Sophia's notebook open on the table as she wrote on it, "she didn't want to leave the kitchen and I wanted to make pancakes for their snacks, so we found a middle ground", your husband justified himself.

"It's okay", you smiled, kissing everyone's cheeks and tapping Alice's nose, "well, I'm glad you're feeling better, little miss", you said.

"Also, I'm in charge of dinner. I spoke to the people on your team - I'm their boss' husband so I sort of have some power too", he joked, "and they're going to delegate the work these next few days so you can stay home to rest and just work a teeny tiny little bit. I also plan on doing the school pick ups and cooking", he smiled, proud of his plans.

"I'm okay to help, too, Daniel, really", you tried, "no need for that, like I said! I'm going to take charge of the next few days, there's no reason why I can't and it's going to be great", he giggled, "we're in this together, darling, and there's no way you're carrying this all on your shoulders".

[monzamash]

tears and scraped knees — daniel ricciardo

fatherhood is about learning the art of letting go. dad!daniel ricciardo x you | 2k warnings – cute shit, mentions of injuries and swearing. masterlist

She was the light of his life the moment she entered it, screaming the house down and crying her lungs out. Pure love personified. She was the apple of his eye, the most precious gift he had ever been given and simultaneously the reason for the grey hair speckling his dark curls; the ones identical to hers. Like him, she was a firecracker, the joker, and the life of the party everywhere she went; smile bright, eyes warm. A rich chestnut brown, flecked with yellow, charming and stunning just like his.

To Daniel, she was your little twin. Your beauty was reflected in her in different ways – in her long locks and dark sense of humour, her tenacity and moral compass. She was strong like you, stoic in her beliefs and confident in her skin.

Smart, magnetic, a bit book-ish like you.

Sporty, energetic and kind like him.

Looking at your daughter was a daily reminder that he was half him and half you – a beautiful symbol of your love, your miracle.

“How ya doin’ back there kiddo?”

“Fine,” She mumbled under her breath, eyes focused on the perfect distraction from the morning ahead – her phone. 

You and Daniel shared a knowing glance; traffic building at the lights as you waited for the signal. There was no doubt in your mind that your daughter was saving herself from a stirring speech by bottling up her feelings. Her father was basically a glorified inspirational speaker in his retirement and she had been on the receiving end of too many over the years – each one cheesier than the last, she would confess to you whenever he was out of ear shot.

“Does Dad realise that I’m not one of his rookie drivers? Like, I know what I need to do to win.”

Strong in her convictions, just like him. A carbon copy.

“Remember to keep your elbows out today, especially around that Maddy girl. I know her dad and I reckon she’s dirty like him so watch her at the sta – ouch.”

Your fingernails digging into his forearm cut off Daniel’s spiel, his eyebrows furrowed and silently asking, ‘what the fuck was that for’.

“Just have fun out there, sweetheart,” You interrupted, saving your daughter from her father’s pep-talk, “Keep your elbows tucked in, shoulders with the part like you were taught.”

Daniel sighed and turned his attention back to the busy streets of Fremantle, weaving his way through the traffic like he was back in Monaco, living out the glory days. He was the first to admit that he was living vicariously through her and passionate about what the world had in store for his not-so-little girl. He saw so much of himself in her now, sixteen and on the cusp of what could be.

But you saw things differently to him. Her path wasn’t paved so clearly in your eyes and you made sure that she remained open to whatever life had to bring. She had it all in front of her; possibilities endless with opportunity and success but that didn’t have to be racing. Your dreams for her weren’t as rigid as Daniel’s; his plan to move the family back to the UK had been vetoed by you when your daughter came to you in tears, begging to stay in school and graduate with her friends.

“But babe, those friends don’t last. It’s all just in the moment when this could be her chance at getting her foot in the door,” He argued until he was red in the face.

“Says the guy who just had Blake and his wife around last week for dinner? Come on, Dan – it’s only a year away.”

“Realistically we should’ve moved when she showed an interest in bikes…” He grumbled, frustration simmering behind his closed eyes.

“What? When she was four? Baby, she’s only sixteen but still, she has her dreams set on riding and when the time is right, we will do everything we can to help her make that a reality…”

Your voice was soft; calming as you rounded the dining table and nestled into the open arms of your husband, “Just let her take the lead.”

Daniel dropped his head onto the top of yours and sighed, “You’re right.”

“I almost always am.”

That wasn’t the last conversation you and your husband had about Joey’s future, her grandfather and namesake chiming in with what he thought was the best thing for her budding career. She was the pride and joy of the whole family; everyone saw her talent from a young age but that kind of pressure had to be managed and that had become your life’s work. Her youth had been so hyper focussed on honing her craft that sometimes you felt like she had lost her childhood to the trials and tribulations of racing.

So you put your foot down where you could; namely saving your daughter from having to sit through another car ride hearing all about her dad’s accomplishments and mistakes – hoping she would learn from him but you both knew better than that. She was so young and so ready to make her own mistakes to learn from, like it should be.

She was stronger than both you ever were – a perfect amalgamation of your love.

One of hardest part about race day for Daniel was taking a step back. Of course everyone knew who Joey’s dad was and of course she copped shit for it. Your dad’s a flog and the only reason you’re here is because of him, had been a couple of the unsavoury post-race reports your daughter eventually confessed to you – teary eyed while she begged for you not to tell Daniel but you did because if anyone knew the power of harnessing negative energy, it was your husband.

But the hardest part of all for Daniel was controlling his emotions. He had Italian blood coursing through his veins after all, passionate and fiercely protective of both his girls. Once Joey came along, you knew the papa bear within that had been lying dormant would arise and alas, you were right. All of those crazy nights in bars all around the world, fighting off sleazy men had prepared him to be a girl-dad.

That side to him was glorious to you, endlessly sexy and usually rendered you useless when he decided to bust out the dad moves but to his teenage daughter, he was a total embarrassment.

“Racing under number 33 is Joey James Ricciardo.”

“Give ‘em hell, JJ!”

Daniel’s loud woo echoed through the small crowd, heads turning in your direction including your daughters and you could sense her scowl under the helmet – mortified.

“Daniel,” You scolded, smacking your husband gently, “She’ll kill us both.”

“I know I know,” He grimaced, “Fuck, I’m sorry – I can’t help it... That’s our baby girl out there.”

The image of your daughter, barely two years old, always flashed in your memory when he said things like that. It reminded you of the weeks spent teaching her how to walk. She was so small but so tenacious and you could see that same proud glimmer in Daniel’s eyes now as he did watching her take her first steps. It was mixed with the same wash of fear he had when he let go of her bike seat down that old gravelled road for the first time, praying to god she didn’t hurt herself and end up with tears and scraped knees.

And sure, that happened. Many Band-Aids and tubes of antiseptic were applied to her bloodied elbows and knees but she was a kid after all, feeling every bump in the road until she found her strengths and soared above the rest. She was as quick as a whip and even faster on track – destined to be her own hero but always inspired by her first.

“I’m gonna be sick,” Daniel mumbled as the two of you waited for the race to begin, his foot tapping on the dead grass and nails already chewed down to the skin.

His white cap was still pulled down, disguised as a promise to his daughter who wanted him to just blend in. Wishful thinking. But there was a time that she didn’t want him to come to her meets, insisting that her life would be so much easier if her dad wasn’t ‘the Daniel Ricciardo’ but you couldn’t buckle on that one.

“Your dad is a strong man but that would kill him, J.”

“But he yells out and brags to all the parents about me and the other kids bully me for it… He doesn’t understand how hard it is being a Ricciardo.”

“Hey,” Daniel’s soft voice startled you both, heads flying towards your daughter’s bedroom door, “If that’s what you want, honey I can stay home.”

She sighed heavily and clutched the lilac pillow on her lap, “I want you there, Dad but people are so mean to me and I just want to be normal for once.”

The mattress dipped as Daniel sat down beside you and reached out for his daughters hands, “You can be anyone you want to be, darlin’ – just say the word and we’ll make it happen. We can be normal… or try to be normal.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at your husband and give him a teasing nudge, “Try being the operative word.”

Daniel smiled and shrugged, “I’ll even wear a disguise. How about that?”

And here you were, hidden behind a couple of gum trees watching your daughter flying through the air and making her fathers hair greyer with every passing second. She was a force to be reckoned with and karmic retribution for all the years you spent white knuckling in garages across the globe.

“Now you know how I felt back when you were racing. Karma is a bitch, my love.”

“Maybe encouraging her to do this was a bad idea after all…” Daniel groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose with his shaky fingers as you slid an arm around his waist and pulled him close.

“This is sleepover camp all over again. You have to learn how to somehow let her go and spread her wings. That’s all she ever says to me, you know? I wanna be like dad – not afraid, free.”

“I didn’t even realise she felt like that…”

You softly smiled at your husband and pressed a soft kiss to his stubbled cheek, “Don’t tell her I told you.”

my hope for this little story is to build a cute world around it. i have a really nice outline for another part of this story so let me know if that's something you would like. and thank you to @vetteltea for her supportive nudge to post this x

[aliwritex]

i really love this. feeding my baby fever

Like Mother. (Daniel Ricciardo)

Daniel and you weren't the best friends. Your daughter changes things pretty quickly. Fluff.

Note: this was supposed to be enemies to lovers, but I got engaged writing all the fluff and forgot about the enemies stuff, you just have to believe me.

Warnings: none? Just tell me if you find something.

"Hey cunt"

"Hey bitch"

You let yourself fall on the chair.

"When will you stop?" Blake groaned.

"When she grows up" Daniel said.

Blake sighed.

"When is Sunny coming?" Michael asked.

"Her dad is dropping her soon. Then we can leave"

"Cool, can't wait to see her"

You smiled at Michael.

"She is excited about the trip too"

Daniel was observing. You were nice to everyone. You liked everyone. But you didn't like him and he didn't like you. So, having the same group of friends could be fun sometimes. Plus you had a daughter. A little girl that looked just like you and hated him as much as you. She was like a little cat that would hiss to him anytime he was near.

You received a message and disappeared from the studio. Sunny was here.

"Well"

Daniel looked at his friends when they looked at him expecting something.

"Well?"

"Are you dropping that stupid facade for the weekend?"

"What?"

"You like her" Scotty said.

"I don't"

"You do" Blake added.

"No, mate. I don't. We hate eachother."

"She hates you but you love her"

Daniel groaned and got up, showing them a finger and walking to the kitchen. He filled a cup of water and suddenly he heard the door and the usual happiness that Sunny brought.

He observed the image from the kitchen. Your girl hugged his friends, she laughed when Scotty tickled her and kissed Blake's cheek. She laughed like a maniac when Michael easily lift her from the floor. He felt something on his chest. His friends weren't so wrong after all.

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

"I have never been there" Sunny said. She had been talking nonstop

"Haven't you?" Michael asked.

"No, but mum says it's really nice"

"It is. We already went there in summer"

"I was with Dad"

"Yes you were" You told your daughter. They all knew that your relationship with your ex was really bad. The only moments you see eachother was when you had to pick Sunny or something related to her. That trip had helped you to not feel so lonely without your daughter.

"And can we swim on the river?"

"The water is really cold" Scotty said.

Daniel was sitting at the back of the van, all of you thought he was asleep with his headphones on. But he was currently listening.

"Well, I'm a big girl. I take swim lessons" Sunny said with a smile.

Daniel smiled too, but tried to hide it.

"But it's winter, princess" You told her.

She frowned.

"So... We don't swim in winter"

"You will get your feet frozen" Michael tickled her and she laughed.

"I'm excited"

You arrived soon and Sunny jumped from the van as soon as she could.

You all spent the day walking around and doing anything Sunny wanted. She had a bunch of grown men eating from her palm and couldn't be more spoiled.

"Look at the house" She exclaimed "It's amazing"

"Pretty big, huh" Daniel said. It was innocent, but the little girl turned and frowned. "Ok, like Mother, like daughter"

Daniel scoffed and walked away.

"Sunny, don't be rude" You said because that's not how you wanted your girl to be.

Things were Danny stayed, as usual, you two keeping the distance and occasionally having a little fight or argument about things that in the other's eyes couldn't be more stupid. It was obvious that Sunny copied a lot for you. As you and Daniel hadn't been the greatest friends during her life, she hadn't grown close to him. He was just someone in her life that she knew and sometimes spend a day or two with. But she wasn't as friends with him as she was with the other. She didn't run to him when she was excited or sat on his lap to have a snack.

You barely noticed it because it was you who had done that. But Daniel did. He played and participated in the games, but he was never the little girl's option and barely talked to her.

But the day went on and no one seemed to noticed.

You were coming back for a hike, an easy one although Sunny had got some piggybacks from her Uncles when she got tired. You were thinking about how it had been a couple of minutes since you had heard her for the last time. So you turned around. "Scotty, where is Sunny?"

"She was with Blake"

We both looked at him.

"I thought she was with you, YN. She ran to you"

You felt dizzy and your heart beating like mad. The panic mode settled because any of you could see her.

"Sunny" You called her name in panic. She wasn't anywhere. Not back in path, not ahead, not looking your insects on the sides.

Michael was quickly steadying you when your knees became shaky.

"Okay, okay. We will fin her, YN. She can't be far"

"M-my daughter is lost... In the forest! It's getting dark" You were brushing the panic attack with your fingers.

Daniel had a knot on his chest.

"Let's go in different ways. She is too little, can't be far" He said before entering on the forest on his own.

He jumped over bushes and got scratches on his legs while looking for another path he knew was close. Meanwhile, Michael was taking you to the house.

"Sunny!" Daniel ran through the path. He felt like throwing up. He had never felt so nervous. "Sunny! Where are you?"

The sun was going down and it was getting too cold.

Michael was trying to help you breathing in the living room. You were having a really bad panic attack. You little princess was lost in the forest.

"Sunny!"

And suddenly, close to the river in a rock, he saw the yellow coat. He stopped on his tracks and panted out of breath.

There she was. She was sitting on the shore, with a stick moving a leaf in the water. Daniel had never felt such a relief.

"Sunny!" He called her and she turned around. He felt his heart shuttering. She was sobbing, she had a pout on her lips and her eyes were full of tears.

"Danny!" She said terrified.

Hearing her calling his name like that was even worst. She was so scared. Daniel ran to her and Sunny got up from the floor.

Daniel picked her from the floor and hugged her tight. Sunny grabbed into him with arms and legs, hanging like a koala and crying on his neck.

"Okay, okay. You are fine. You are fine, Sunny" He said while caressing her hair. "You are with me"

"I couldn't find Mommy" She whimpered. "I was picking flowers and I couldn't find Mommy."

"Mommy is at the house. She is waiting for you"

"It's getting dark. I don't like the dark"

Daniel carefully picked her coat and covered her with it. She grabbed his clothes tighter and sniffed.

"I want to go"

"Yes, sweetie. We are going back. Don't worry, okay?" He said.

His heart was beating so fast. He was hugging her so tight. He wanted to feel Sunny close. He had never felt so terrified.

"I'm scared, Danny"

"It's fine. Nothing will happen. I'm with you. I will take care of you"

Daniel kissed her head softly.

"Close your eyes and think about pretty things"

Sunny did, she hid on Daniel's hoodie.

"My mum is really pretty" She said.

Daniel smiled a bit. "She is"

"I want to be as pretty as her when I'm older"

"I'm sure you will. Plus, you are really pretty now, you know?"

"Thank you"

Daniel was blushing.

He stepped on a branch and Sunny squeaked.

"Hey, it's fine. I won't let anything happen, remember?"

She nodded and hugged his neck. She was cold.

"The house"

He smiled.

"Yes. I think Mum will be pretty nervous once we get there."

"Why"

"Because she got really scared when we couldn't find you"

"How can I help her?"

Daniel stopped walking.

"Let's do something. Let's fix your clothes and your hair so she finds you all cute and nice dressed."

Sunny nodded with a smile. Daniel put her on the ground and helped her with the leaves on her hair and her messy clothes. They cleaned the dirt and Daniel helped her with her ponytail.

"How do you know how to tie my hair?"

"I have a niece."

"Can I meet her?"

Daniel looked at her

"She lives in Australia"

Sunny shrugged.

"I have never been there"

Daniel crouched down in front of her and helped her with the coat.

"Maybe one day you can go"

"I will tell mum"

Daniel swallowed. You would never go to Australia. Maybe to Melbourne with Scotty. But not home with him.

"Okay, there you are. So pretty"

"Like Mommy?"

Daniel nodded.

"Like Mommy" It was true. She looked so much like you. And you were a beautiful woman.

"Let's go"

But Sunny made grabby hands.

"Please"

"Okay, come here"

Daniel picked her and carried her on his waist. He knocked the door and Blake was the one opening. They were all there and everyone sighed in relief. They had given up and come back to the house to have a new plan.

When all your friends sighed after the door was opened, you lift your head from Michael's chest.

It was as if a wave of energy ran over you. You jumped from the sofa and ran to Daniel and Sunny. Catching everyone by surprise, you hugged both of them. Not only Sunny like everyone expected. You snaked your amrs around both of them and tucked you face between theirs.

"Mommy! I'm back" Sunny hugged your neck and you cried harder.

Daniel was frozen, he couldn't move. He had never felt like this. He felt overwhelmed.

"Mommy! Danny helped me. I was scared but he said he would protect me" Sunny was excited. She couldn't understand how terrifying it had been. She had just spent some time alone in the forest and had gotten scared.

You pulled back and looked at Daniel. He felt his legs shaking. Then you cupped his check with one hand and said in the most sincere voice:

"Thank you"

He nodded. He couldn't speak.

After looking at him, into his eyes, you turned to Sunny because it felt too much. You couldn't explain how you were feeling. How Daniel bringing back your daughter had affected you.

"Are you okay, Sunny? Are you hurt?"

She shook her head. "I was a bit scared. And cried. But Danny found me"

"She was so brave" Daniel whispered.

You looked at him and he made a gesture. You picked Sunny from his arms and you daughter gave you a big hug. You kissed her cheek and touched her hair.

Daniel dried his hands on his trousers and looked around. His friends were looking at him. They all seemed speachless.

"Um... I'm... I need some water" And he went to the kitchen.

You followed him with your eyes and swallowed the lump in your throat.

"I'm tired" Sunny said.

You looked down at her. The coat was closed, her ponytail was done but had some strands of hair falling on the sides of her face and there was some dirt on her cheek. It looked as if someone had brushed it off. Just like her trousers.

You bit you lip and touched her chin.

"Let's have a bath and then we can have dinner"

She nodded and ran to the stairs.

"Be careful!"

You got up and dried your tears.

"YN..." Michael started. "How are you?"

"Fine. Better. I'm... I'm glad"

He nodded.

Daniel was outside. He had quietly opened the back door and gone outside to breath fresh air. It was consuming him. He needed to do something soon.

You got Sunny in the bath and while you were washing her hair, you asked.

"Sunny, baby. Did Daniel fix your hair?" It was styled differently to what you usually did with her hair.

"Yes. We fixed my clothes too so you wouldn't get more scared."

You bit back the tears.

"Oh, well... Um... You have to thank him for finding you, okay?"

She nodded. You were unsure of what to say and if you really need to approach him.

When Daniel went back inside, Blake was in the kitchen.

"They are upstairs having a bath. We are having dinner soon"

He nodded.

"How are you, mate?"

Daniel shrugged.

"It's weird."

Blake nodded. "I'm sure she doesn't hate you. You two just got used to be like this"

Daniel sighed.

"Plus, Sunny was pretty comfortable with you. That's a lot for her"

Daniel leaned on the counter and opened a beer.

"She even kissed you. Was it the first time?"

Daniel nodded. "I don't think we've ever hugged"

"Well, that's a lot"

"I just found her daughter. She was having a panic attack."

"Mate..."

Daniel left the safety of the kitchen and went to the living room. Sunny was sitting with a book by herself and close to the fireplace. Daniel doubted about if he should go and talk to her without you around. He did at the end.

"Hey, Sunny" He sat close to her but not too close. He wanted to be respectful.

"Hi, Daniel" Sunny smiled sweetly.

"Are you feeling better?"

"Yes. I'm clean now. My mum found leaves in my hair" She giggled and Daniel smiled. "And I'm a bit tired. We played a lot today"

"A lot yeah" Daniel had barely played with her. It was all the boys. He simply watched.

"My Mommy told me that I have to say thank you to you"

Daniel left a shaky breath out.

"Thank you, Danny" Sunny got up and hugged his neck.

Any of them knew you were watching, hidden in the darkness of the upper stairs and covering your mouth. You observed how Daniel was doubting, how he frowned a bit when Sunny hugged his neck but after a while he found the courage to hug her. His hands were big in your daughter. Just how you had seen him hugging his friends, Daniel tucked himself on Sunny's shoulder. And Sunny giggled and told him his beard was tickling her. You felt unwell. You heart was beating fast. It wasn't supposed to be happening.

Then Sunny pulled back and turned around, sitting between his legs and still with the warmth of his arms around her and reaching her book. "Let's read together".

You bit your lip and dried a tear.

Daniel's hands were shaking. He adored Sunny. He felt so happy when he started reading for her.

"Ow well" Scotty smiled when he came inside and found them. "At least one of the girls can stand you" He said not knowing you were listening.

It hurt. When you all sat to have dinner, everyone thought you were quiet. Michael whispered to Scotty that you were probably exhausted.

Sunny was sitting between you and Blake. Daniel was in front of Blake and had a fond smile while hearing your daughter talk.

"I thought you were tired" He said when Sunny said she wanted to watch a film.

"I am. But a film will help me sleeping better and have cool dreams." She said and looked at you. 'Please?"

You smiled and touched her cheek.

"Okay. But only one."

She nodded.

"Cool"

You leaned and kissed her head before getting up.

"I'll bring the dessert."

Sunny gave you her best puppy eyes.

"Yes honey, chocolate pudding for you"

Everyone laughed. You were in the kitchen lost in your thoughts when you heard steps behind you. Somehow you knew who it was.

You turned slowly.

"Hey" Daniel said. "Need help?"

You smiled a bit.

"With the fruit"

"OK"

He took the big bowl of fruit and looked at you. You took a deep breath. You were a grown woman. Your daughter had done it. You could do it.

"Thank you"

"It's just fruit" He shrugged it.

"You know I'm not talking about the fruit" You said. You didn't want to get angry now.

He sighed.

"It's nothing."

"It's something. I treat you like shit and you jump to the forest the second my daughter gets lost."

"How could I not?" He said and took a step closer.

You had to lower your head to not look at him.

"You would have done the same. We may argue like little kids, but... I know that you... Fuck. I care about you, okay? Maybe you care about me too."

You notice how he hadn't said the word hate. You smiled a bit. You didn't hate him. He just irritated you.

"I do"

Daniel smiled. He knew that it wasn't appropriate but he wanted to kiss you.

"I never told you" He said. You swallowed, what was this about? "But you have an amazing kid"

You smiled a bit and your eyes got watery.

"I do. She is the best"

"Like Mother, like daughter" Hearing him said that again in such a different context almost knocks you to the floor. You smiled and gently touched his arm.

"Thank you again. For bringing her back and fixing her clothes and hair"

He blushed.

"She told you"

"Never tell Sunny your secrets" You said smiling.

He chuckled.

"It's nice to know that"

You chuckled.

"She likes to have all her hair back, though. No loose strands."

"I did my best"

"Your best is crap, Ricciardo" Falling back to the bickering routine felt so comforting now.

"Fuck off" He answered with a smile.

When you two went back to the living room, Scotty chuckled.

"Wow, how is it that you two are smiling?"

"Fuck off, Scotty."

You turned and slapped Danny's arm.

"No bad words in front of my kid"

Sunny giggled and covered her mouth.

"Sorry, Sunny. Don't say that. At least in front of your mother."

"Promised!" She said and reached for her pudding.

You rolled your eyes.

Sunny obviously was too tired for the film and halfway through The Grinch, her eyes started closing. She was sitting on the floor with Michael sharing a bowl of grapes when she yawned the first time.

"Someone's tired" Blake said and got up. "Tea?"

As a waiter, he noted the teas and went to the kitchen.

"Sunny, baby" She turned to you. "Come here with me"

"I'm good here"

"I know, but you are tired. Come here with Mommy"

"But..."

Michael smiled at the girls stubbornness. Daniel was quietly observing.

"No buts. Come here"

She dramatically sighed and complained. Scotty laughed but you shot him a cold glare and he covered his mouth. Daniel thought you were a great mother.

Sunny climbed in the sofa next to you and laid her head on chest, you hugged her close to your side.

"Here" Daniel, who had been sitting on the other side of the sofa, passed you a blanket.

"Thanks".

You covered Sunny with it and she smiled.

"Thanks, Danny"

"You welcome, Sunny"

Nobody payed attention to the interaction, but it warmed your heart and cheeks.

Blake had to find another place to sit because the princess, as he said, had taken his whole seat.

Sunny was giggling and you thought it was bacuse of the film because she loved the Grinch. But at some point you felt her moving and looked down. Danny's hand was hidden under the blanket and Sunny was shaking her feet. You observed quietly until the blanket moved a bit and revealed Danny's tattooed hand. You looked at his hand and saw how he was smiling and biting his lip, watching the film and trying to not laugh. He was tickling her feet and everytime she giggled he had to stop himself from laughing to.

You heart beated so fast. Then he catched you watching and blushed deeply. You smiled. Why were you suddenly so fond of him?

"You will put her to sleep" You told him.

He simply said okay with a smile and pulled a bit from Sunny's sock.

"Danny! You are so annoying!" She complained.

"Yes. I say that all the time, Sunny" Blake agreed.

You all laughed. You liked how Sunny was around Danny. They kind of matched their energies and she looked so comfortable with him now. You felt kind of bad because maybe your own attitude around Daniel had affected her.

"Danny!" Sunny kicked him when he pinched her toe and Danny gasped.

"Hey! Sunny no."

Sunny looked at you with big eyes.

"Sunny, what did I said about hitting people?"

Daniel felt so bad when Sunny pouted. He didn't want to give her problems.

"But he..."

"I don't care. Hitting someone it's not a solution."

"He was annoying" She crossed her arms.

"YN..." Daniel whispered. He was scared of talking louder

"Apologize to Daniel" You said.

Sunny frowned and turned to Daniel. His heart broke when he saw a tear down her cheek.

"I'm sorry, Danny"

She reached his hand and dried the tear.

"No problem, sweetheart. I'm sorry too." He said.

You looked at him.

"Dan..."

You had never called him that.

The others had forgotten about the film and were watching you instead.

"It's fine. It was a little misunderstanding. Right, Sunny? I won't bother you again"

"Okay. I won't have to kick you again then"

Everyone laughed.

"Yeah, what I said. Like Mother, like daughter"

"What does it mean?"

"That you are so much like your mum" He said and looked at you. You smiled at him.

"Had my mum kicked you?"

The look you gave him could have killed kittens.

"No" He quickly said.

"Then?"

"You are sassy like her. But cuter"

"Yeah. And as pretty as her. Like you said in the forest"

Michael gasped, Blake covered his mouth and Scotty almost laughs out loud. You were looking at Daniel. You were shocked and so was he. But Sunny seemed pretty happy.

"Yeah. No secrets with you" Daniel whispered and tickled her a bit. He was blushing so hard he even felt hot on his clothes.

You couldn't speak.

"I love kids. I want some of my own" Scotty said.

Daniel and you turned uncomfortably. Sunny yawned and laid back on you. "Tickle me, please. But slowly. Like Mommy does it"

Daniel thought that he had no idea of how you did it. And you saw it. You took his hand and put it on her ankle. Softly you caressed her skin and he took the hint. It felt good. It felt so good to touch him like this. You felt comfortable around him now. You suddenly wanted him around.

Daniel smiled softly when Sunny nuzzled into the blanket and closed her eyes. He had barely interacted with the girl before the trip and now he couldn't stop thinking of how much he would miss her. It was more than clear now that he was in love with you.

Your hands were shaking. You were so confused. So much.

The film ended and Sunny was tight asleep. So you picked her and got up.

"Good night, guys" You said softly and with a smile.

"Good night" The four of them answered.

Once you were out of side, his friends looked at him.

"Step Dad on the making?" Blake asked.

"What? No" Daniel sat straight on the sofa. "Don't be stupid."

"Oh, c'mon" Michael threw him a grape. "You are head over heels for her. And her cute little daughter has you eating from her palm"

Daniel threw the grape back and Michael trapped it.

"I just..."

You stopped when you heard him. Sunny was already on the bed and you were on your way to the toilet.

"I was always jealous of your friendship. With both of them actually. Fighting her is fun and everything. But... I love kids."

You felt like shit. You needed to fix this. You needed to apologize.

The next morning was really cold. You turned in bed and looked for Sunny with your hand. She wasn't there. You sat on the bed and looked around. She wasn't in the bedroom so you ran out. You ran downstairs after checking the rooms. You saw Scotty's butt by accident, but no one needed to know about that.

You grabbed a coat and ran outside while throwing it over yourself. You jumped down the porch stairs. How the fuck did you loose your daughter twice in the same weekend?

But you didn't ran far. There, in front of you and right next to the creek, Sunny watched something in the water with Daniel by her side. She was wearing a big Ric Rodeo hoodie and one of Scotty's beanies. She looked so cute and small on it and once again you were feeling all of those things. She was wearing Danny's clothes, she was curiously asking things and he was there with her answer with a smile. And all your fear dissipated.

You walked slowly to them.

"Good morning" You said with a smile.

They both turned around and Sunny smiled so big.

"Good morning, Mommy. I woke up super soon and was bored. And I found Danny on the living room. We played the questions game and then I was super bored again. So we came here to look for fishes. Look, there are tiny fishes in there"

You chuckled.

"You did a lot of things" You leaned and kissed her head.

"Yes. Danny is super cool and funny"

Daniel laughed a bit.

"I'm not that cool"

"You are. And your clothes are cool. He said he will make kids clothes the next time for me, his niece and nephew"

You looked at Daniel. He was blushing. Did he usually blush this much?

"And he will do one purple"

"You really like purple." You told her.

She nodded.

"What do you say?"

"Thank you, Danny"

"No problem, sweetheart"

Sunny smiled and turned back to the river. Daniel looked at you.

"Morning" He said softly.

"Morning"

Feeling brave, you reached for his forearm. "Can we talk later?"

He was surprised, but nodded.

"Look!"

Sunny pointed at the water and you both turned to look. She was so excited.

"That's a huge fish!" Daniel said completely matching her energy.

She giggled and surprisingly, leaned into him. Daniel opened his arms and fixed the big hoodie.

"I want to come back on Summer and swim with the fish." She told you.

"Oh, we will." You pinched her cheek and she smiled.

"Danny is from Australia"

"I know"

"We haven't been there"

"Do you want to?"

Daniel couldn't contain the happiness.

"Yes. We can go and visit Scotty's house, Mike's house, Danny's house, Blake's house..."

"Wow. That's a lot of houses to visit"

She nodded.

"And the beach. Danny said there is a beach in Perth. I really love the beach, Danny."

"I'm sure you do" He answer.

"We can plan a trip to Australia." You said.

Daniel felt his heart beating fast.

"My home is your home so... Whenever you want"

You looked at him. How had you gone from fighting to this?

"That's so nice of Daniel, right Sunny?"

She nodded and opened her arms.

"Thank you!"

Daniel hugged Sunny and she giggled.

"Hey! Breakfast is ready!"

"Yay!"

Sunny ran to the house.

"Be careful! The hoodie is too big!"

"I couldn't find her coat"

"Yeah, it's on the bedroom" You awkwardly said. "Thank you."

"For?"

He crossed his arms on his chest and walked closer to you. You found yourself dreaminly watching his brown eyes.

"For last night, for this morning... She can be too much" You said.

"She is not"

"Well, I think you are too much too. You match energies pretty well"

He smiled.

"That's true"

You bit your lip. He smiled.

"She is a really nice kid. So intelligent. I'm having fun with her"

You swallowed and touched his forearm. You couldn't get yourself to grab his hand.

"I'm sorry" You whispered.

He frowned. "For what?"

"I-I shouldn't have let our bickering affect her"

"Has it?"

"Yes. It has and I feel horrible for it because she adores you now and before she wouldn't even talk to you. Only because she saw I didn't like you"

Daniel grabbed you by your shoulders.

"Hey, she doesn't even know it. She is fine. I will stop if you ask me to."

"I don't want you to" You cut him. "You are good for her. She likes you a lot. And... I'm really so thankful for you help."

"Maybe we should have some truce."

You nodded slowly and Daniel smiled. He was so pretty.

"And... You are always welcome to Australia."

"Thank you"

"Peace?"

You nodded again

"Peace"

"Now, let's go and have breakfast"

.............................

"But I don't want to go" Sunny was crying on your arms. There was nothing you could tell her. "I don't want to go home. I want to stay here."

"But sweetheart. We have to leave. There is school and your dad..."

"No!"

"Hey" Daniel walked closer.

"You know what? We are all celebrating Christmas together"

Sunny looked at him and pouted.

"Yes?"

You nodded and kissed her cheek.

"You will come? And Blake and..."

"All of us"

Sunny reached her arms to Daniel and he took her on his arms.

"I'm going to miss you, Danny"

You caressed her head and he kissed her cheek.

"Me too, Sunny"

Sunny gave a big hug to everyone.

"Dan" You pulled him away from the group.

"Sunny likes to call the guys often"

Daniel felt a sting of jealousy. He didn't know about that.

"I'm sure she will want to call you now"

He smiled.

"That's fine. Just text before, okay?"

You nodded.

"Of course."

You didn't know that that innocent action would be the beginning.

The text became usual. He would ask about Sunny at first but soon he also started asking about you. Also the video calls in which Sunny insisted you had to say hi even when you were on your worst clothes.

"So... Danny and you? Are you sworn enemies anymore?" Michael asked.

You blushed and shook your head.

"See. It wasn't that bad"

You looked at him.

"It's Sunny's fault"

"It's your fault. You two are too stupid to see that you could be great together"

You walked pass him.

"Don't run. He is coming in a bit. It's the perfect day, YN"

You sighed dramatically.

"Michael I..."

"What? He is really excited about tonight, YN"

"I know. Sunny keeps telling me"

"See? Your daughter is already his bestie. He is the perfect stepdad. He is what you two are missing"

"We are perfectly fine like this"

Michael sighed.

"That's not what I meant"

The door opened and Blake came in with a very pleased Sunny. "Look, Mommy"

"Oh" You laughed and Blake shrugged.

"The girl has those eyes..."

"Uncle Blake said that I behaved so well at the store so he bought me a lollipop."

It wasn't long until Danny came back with Scotty and Chloe.

"Hey" He hugged you tight. It was the first time you two were together since the trip and now Mike's words were so loud in your head. "How are you?"

"Fine, I'm fine"

"Danny!"

Sunny appeared next to you, pulling your clothes and some distance between Daniel and you.

"Oh shit, you've grown a lot! Look at you. I almost didn't recognise you"

Daniel scooped her up in his arms and Sunny hugged his neck.

"Missed you a lot" She said. Daniel kissed her head and smiled.

"I missed you a lot too, Sunny"

You did well during the dinner, Chloe sitting on one side of you and Mike on the other was helping a lot to distract you from the fact that Sunny had chosen to sit between Blake and Danny and the driver was the one helping her with her dinner.

Then the gifts came and you all exchanged packages. Obviously, Sunny was the one with the most gifts. She was so happy. She got toys, a little skateboard and shoes just like the ones she had seen Scotty wearing once. But it was the last package the one she loved the most.

Sunny tore the paper and gasped. Her eyes moved to Daniel and she jumped up before running to him, who was sitting on the floor.

"oof" He groaned when she hit him on the belly. But he pulled close and laughed when she screamed thank you. "Do you like it?!"

She nodded and took the gift, showing it to me and jumping happily.

"What is that honey?" I asked knowing well what it was.

"The hoodie Danny promised me!" She turned to the driver again. "It's purple! And it has a sun! Like me!"

Daniel laughed nodding.

Your heart was beating so fast. Just as he had told her, Daniel had made a kid's merch line. Inside the sun, there was a Ric3.

"Mommy! Do you like it?"

"I love it" You pulled her closer and helped her putting the hoodie on. "Beautiful"

Daniel looked at you and let a shaky breath out. He had a plan. A plan for today. It would be the day.

Everything was smoothly working, you guys watching a film with Sunny, the girl wanting to sit between Dan and you, the others leaving earlier because they had parties in clubs or other's friends' houses... Daniel was finally left alone with you two.

You were in the kitchen getting Sunny a cup of milk when you heard the girl talk.

"Don't you have to go to a party, Danny?"

"Nop"

"But you have a lot of friends"

"I know. But I don't have plans for tonight"

"You do. You are here with Mommy and me. We can watch films all night and have a sleepover. And tomorrow you can come to Grandma's to see what Santa has left there for me and..."

Daniel bit his lip and looked at you. You were in the doorframe looking at him.

"Danny!"

Daniel looked down.

"Were you listening? Mommy and I always go and have breakfast outside when I don't have school. You should definitely come with us"

You walked to them and sat behind Sunny.

"You need to ask nicely. Maybe Danny has plans for tomorrow. Or wants to go home to sleep."

Daniel couldn't believe it.

"Would you like to say for a sleepover with Mommy and I and go to have breakfast down the street with us too?" She said in a hurry and then took a breath to recover.

Daniel's hands were shaky. He would love to. But you?

Again, he checked on you and it was surprising how easily you cached what he meant. You nodded slowly.

"I would love that"

"Nice! Let's go and get our pijamas" Then she gasped. "Oh, but you don't have pijamas! Mommy, do we have something for Danny?"

At the end you end up giving Daniel some of your biggest clothes, that looked funny and short on his ankles. But you felt soft. You couldn't stop smiling and giggling. And Sunny was happy too.

She got everything ready in the living room for the sleepover and nestled between your bodies. One film became two and she was still so energetic, way to excited because Daniel was there. And you didn't know well how bit had ended up laying against his side with your arms around your daughter.

"Can you play with my hair Mommy?"

"Are you tired, honey?"

"No"

Daniel and you chuckled at the same time. He was feeling great. He couldn't believe you were tucked under his arm and your daughter had her hand on his thigh. It was so organic to take her little hand on his and draw circles on the palm. Between yours on her hair and his on her hand, Sunny drifted to sleep quickly and you wondered if Mike was right. You two were perfectly fine together, but maybe Daniel was the missing piece.

Daniel thought you both were asleep, he couldn't, he was shaking. He hadn't felt this nervous around someone in ages. He was the cool guy.

The girl moved a bit and Daniel carefully grabbed her by the shoulders. You stayed still for a moment wondering what he was doing. And then he grabbed her and put her on his chest.

"Danny?"

"It's okay. I'm going to lay you down"

"Okay"

You lifted your hand to touch his back when he sat forward in the sofa and he squeaked.

"I-I though you were asleep" He whispered.

Sunny groaned.

"I thought she was uncomfortable"

"Don't worry, we do this a lot"

"Yeah?"

"Lay back"

Daniel laid back and you curled yourself next to him.

Any of you said much more than soft good nights. And in the morning, you were the first who woke up. During the nights, you had sifted positions. The sofa wasn't big enough, but you had managed to cuddle with Danny and keep Sunny sleeping on you.

The girl was deep asleep with her face hidden on Danny's neck and her hand keeping yours on his chest.

"Morning" You heard him.

"Morning"

You kissed Sunny's cheek before moving up. Then saw Danny's honey eyes looking at you and leaned to kiss his forehead too.

You went to the kitchen and Daniel stayed there for a little while. He was so comfortable with Sunny. But at the end he wanted to talk to you. So with all the care in the world, he put her on the sofa and made sure she wouldn't fall. Then followed you to the kitchen.

"Hey, did you sleep well?"

You left the milk on the counter and took a deep breath. Now, let's do it now.

"Mhm"You were blushing.

He walked closer and cupped you breath. Now. He leaned and kissed your lips. It was so slow and soft. It was warm and it made you smile.

"I need to tell you something" He whispered when he pulled back.

"I know"

He looked into your eyes.

"Do you?"

You nodded. It was obvious and Mike was right. He had been all this time.

"I love you too" You whispered and kissed him again.

But...

A gasp made you two pull back, your hand pressed on Danny's chest feeling his heart beating hard.

"You are my Mommy's boyfriend! Yes! I knew it!"

You both gasped and Daniel broke down in laughs.

"How is it? Huh!"

Daniel picked her from the floor and she hugged his neck.

"Because my Mommy talks a lot about you and she likes when you call."

"Sunny..."

"No secrets, babe" Daniel said. It was the first name he gave you and you felt like a teen girl in love.

"Yeah, no secrets. But Danny is not my boyfriend yet and these are adults things, okay?"

Sunny nodded and hugged Danny's neck harder, pressing her cheek against his.

"I'm so happy" She said.

Daniel looked at you and smiled and you knew that things would be alright. Maybe you hadn't had the best start. But now? Now he had your girl on his arms and you couldn't wish for something better.

I just love step dad Dan so much.

[ari-ana-bel-la]

could you write a dad!Oscar who we know is private but the other drivers dont know he has a kid till he invites them over his house and when lily or oscar open the door yn is there in her walker lookig up at them exacly like Oscar (bonus if they have a pet the other drivers are scared of but yn is fascinated with it)

The secret daughter

The post-race dinner invite had taken everyone by surprise.

Oscar wasn’t exactly known for being social. Quiet? Definitely. Polite? Always. But throwing casual dinner parties? That was new. So when he casually mentioned in the paddock after the Australian Grand Prix, Hey, if you're around, come over to mine for dinner tonight, the rest of the drivers had stared at him like he’d just grown a second head.

"Are you serious?" Lando asked, raising a brow.

Oscar had just nodded, offering that small, elusive smile of his. "Yeah. Should be fun."

Max had squinted at him. "You? Hosting dinner? Are we sure this isn’t some elaborate prank?"

Oscar just shrugged. "Come or don’t. Up to you."

Of course, they were going to come. They couldn’t resist the mystery.

---

It was nearly sunset when the group pulled up to a modest but beautiful house nestled into the outskirts of the city. Australia had always had its charm—open skies, endless greenery, and that unmistakable warmth in the air that hinted at home. Daniel, retired now and visiting the paddock just for old time’s sake, had tagged along with the group, grinning like a kid.

"You know, I’m proud of the kid," he said as they stepped out of the car. "Hosting a dinner, inviting people over. He’s evolving."

George adjusted his collar and glanced at the front door. "Are we sure we have the right house?"

"Looks about right," Charles said, holding a bottle of wine. "He texted the address."

Max leaned on the car. "Well, someone go knock then."

"You knock," Lando shot back.

"You’re closer."

With a dramatic sigh, Lando marched up to the door and knocked twice. They waited. Silence. Then a faint rustling.

The door swung open.

A little girl, no older than three, stood in the doorway. Brown curls framed her cherubic face, and her wide eyes blinked up at them in a serious sort of way—exactly like Oscar’s. Her expression was so deadpan that for a moment, no one said a word.

"Uh... hi?" George offered awkwardly.

The girl stared at them.

"She looks just like him," Charles whispered.

"She can’t be..." Lando murmured.

"You guys coming in or what?" she said, voice tiny but confident.

Before anyone could respond, she turned and darted back into the house. "DADDY! The tall people are here!"

Five grown men stood frozen on the doorstep, processing.

"Did she just call him Daddy?" Max blinked.

"She did, right?" Lando asked, eyes wide.

Daniel let out a loud bark of laughter. "Holy shit. Oscar has a kid."

Inside, Oscar appeared, as calm as ever, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel. "Hey. You guys found the place. Come in."

"You have a child," George said bluntly.

Oscar blinked. "Yeah?"

"You never said anything," Lando said, eyes still trailing after the small child, who had now settled on the couch with a juice box.

Oscar tilted his head, bemused. "You never asked."

"Seriously?! That’s your excuse?" Max asked, walking in, still stunned.

Oscar shrugged. "I don’t go around asking if you guys have secret families."

"It’s not a secret if she opens the door for us," Charles said.

Daniel was grinning ear to ear. "Mate. You legend. I didn’t know you had it in you."

"Thanks, I think," Oscar said dryly.

Lando had crouched slightly, watching the little girl with fascination. She glanced up at him, unblinking.

"Hi," Lando said.

"Hi," she replied.

"I’m Lando. What’s your name?"

"Yn."

"That’s a pretty name."

She took a long sip of her juice box. "Wanna see my pet?"

Lando blinked. "Uh... sure."

Oscar looked up from where he was arranging some bowls. "You don’t have to say yes, by the way."

Lando, determined, shook his head. "No, it’s okay. I like pets. Is it a bunny? A hamster?"

Yn grinned, then skipped over to the corner where a small terrarium sat.

"Larry!" she sang. "Come say hi!"

The group watched in silent horror as she reached into the glass box and pulled out a tiny, coiled snake.

Lando backed up so fast he nearly tripped over Max. "WHAT THE HELL?!"

Yn cradled the snake lovingly. "This is Larry. He’s my best friend."

Max looked at Oscar like he’d grown another head. "You let your toddler have a snake?!"

Oscar glanced over. "He’s non-venomous. Very chill. Yn loves him."

Charles had pressed himself against the nearest wall. George was hovering behind the couch like it could protect him. Daniel, meanwhile, looked delighted.

"She’s a true Aussie," Daniel said proudly. "Respect the reptile."

Yn patted Larry's head and brought him closer to Lando. "You can pet him if you want."

"I think I’m good," Lando squeaked.

Oscar crossed his arms, one eyebrow raised. "Scared of a baby snake, huh?"

"He looked at me with malice in his eyes."

"Larry doesn’t even have eyelids," Oscar deadpanned.

Daniel clapped Oscar on the shoulder. "Fatherhood suits you. You’re terrifying. I love it."

The evening carried on with more laughter than anyone expected. Yn eventually let Larry rest back in his enclosure, and Oscar set up a makeshift kids' table where she could eat her nuggets and carrots. The rest of the group sat around the main table, eyes occasionally drifting back to the little girl who had rocked their worlds in under five minutes.

"So, uh... how old is she?" George asked cautiously, sipping his drink.

"Three and a half," Oscar said.

"And... you and Lily?"

Oscar nodded. "Yeah. We kept it quiet. Wanted some normalcy."

"She’s adorable," Charles said. "I mean. Scary, with the snake. But adorable."

"She is," Oscar said, and for the first time that evening, his voice softened. Everyone noticed.

Yn ran back into the room at one point, straight to Daniel, crawling into his lap like it was the most natural thing.

"Uncle Dan," she said sweetly.

"Hey, sunshine," Daniel replied, instantly melting.

Lando looked betrayed. "Uncle Dan?"

Daniel smirked over Yn's curls. "Some of us got in early."

"I want to be her favorite," Lando muttered.

"Should’ve petted the snake, mate," Max said with a grin.

Oscar leaned back, watching the group. For the first time in a while, he looked completely at ease. Maybe it had always been like this behind the scenes—the quiet life, the family, the snake.

But now that the secret was out, no one was going anywhere. They were hooked.

"So," George said later, holding a brownie, "next time we hang out at yours, should we bring mice? Or are snakes allergic to snacks?"

Oscar rolled his eyes. "You guys are ridiculous."

Yn peeked around the corner. "Uncle Lando? Larry misses you."

Lando visibly paled. The room erupted in laughter.

Oscar just smirked.

"Told you. She’s a real Aussie."

And that, they all agreed, was terrifyingly accurate.

Extra

The drivers reaction to meeting Oscars daughter:

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoyed reading this story. My requests are always open for you.

-♡○♡

[0scarp1astr1]

 ˖ 𐔌 𝐃𝐚𝐝 𝐓𝐨 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐮𝐞࿐ .

۫જ⁀➴ Desc: || Max and you always planned the best birthday parties for your daughter, Sofie. But, with the weight of her not having friends and a birthday going wrong. Max is willing to step in and make everything right. ||

ᯓ★ (Dad) Max Verstappen x Fem! (Mom) Reader

ᯓ★ 3x Genre: Fluff, Humor, (bit) of angst

ᯓ★ Warning: Minor bullying, and of course, an angry dad Max.

ᯓ★ Requested? No

Author Note: Here is some Max dad fluff, I am glad that some people are enjoying the dad writing so far. I do plan to create dad fics for most of the drivers, just cause parenthood on them is actually cute. Remember, my requests are open, as well as my messages!

☆★☆★☆★☆☆★☆★☆★☆☆★☆★☆★☆☆★☆★

If someone had told you years ago that you’d one day be Mrs. Verstappen, you would’ve laughed so hard tears welled in your eyes. You would have denied it with every fiber of your being, maybe even swore on your career that it would never happen. And yet, here you were.

You remember the first time you saw him clearly—Max Verstappen, standing off to the side of the Red Bull garage, jaw tight, his face carved in frustration. It was post-qualifying, and something had gone horribly wrong. You hadn’t needed to check the screens to know—his muttering, the way his hand combed aggressively through his hair, and the sharp glares toward the engineering team told you everything. He was livid.

You worked for Red Bull Racing, and it wasn’t the first time you’d seen him like that. People tiptoed around him, allowing him space to rant, to burn off the steam like an overheated engine. You gave him that space, too—but not without approaching him with a bottle of water. “Want to throw it at someone or actually drink it?” you asked lightly, eyebrows raised.

His lips curved, just barely. “Both,” he muttered, taking the bottle from you.

And that was the beginning.

It started quietly. Texting. Late-night phone calls. Glances stolen in the chaos of a race weekend. He was intense, unapologetically so, and never cared to soften himself for the sake of perception. But with you, he didn't have to. You learned his language—understood that his silence didn’t mean absence, his anger didn’t mean hatred. He had sharp edges, but he never cut you with them.

Behind closed doors, after draining media days, he’d find you. He’d fall into your arms like he needed you to keep him grounded. “I’m not a bad guy,” he whispered into your hair once, exhausted. “They just… they don’t see me.”

“I do,” you whispered back. “I always do.”

You were his armor. When engineers muttered judgmental remarks, you were swift with your defense. When Jos Verstappen made comments laced with toxic pride or passive disappointment, you stood up taller, redirecting the energy in the room. And when Christian Horner made jokes that crossed the line, you didn't hesitate to call him out. Max didn’t always say it, but it filled him with smug satisfaction. He loved knowing you didn’t fear anyone—not for him.

When he finally asked you out, it was your birthday. You hadn’t expected anything beyond a few wishes from the paddock, maybe a slice of cake from the catering crew. But there he was—waiting outside your flat with the exact cake you mentioned in passing weeks ago.

“Be my girlfriend,” he asked, the moment the candlelight flickered between you two.

You stared at him, stunned. “Seriously?”

He nodded. “I’m not playing games with you. Not when it’s you.”

And from that moment on, he was yours. In private at first, by choice, not shame. The peace of an undisclosed relationship was intoxicating. But all it took was one slip-up in an interview—Max, talking about the importance of his "team," then gesturing at you and proudly adding, “My girlfriend, she’s my team too.” And just like that, the world knew.

He shielded you from the worst of it. He didn’t mind the cameras, the rumors, the headlines—so long as they stayed away from you. You loved him all the more for that.

Then came the proposal—romantic, quiet, over dinner under the Monaco stars. You said yes through tears. He told the whole world, but most importantly, his family. The F1 WAGs pulled you into an emotional celebration, all teary eyes and champagne flutes. You’d found sisters in them. They stood by your side on your wedding day, and eventually, you became Mrs. Verstappen.

Your life together unfolded in Monaco—a haven of love and racing memorabilia. The walls were adorned with trophies, framed pictures, and cat towers. Three cats, each more spoiled than the last. But nothing prepared you for the day you realized there was more than just fur babies in your future.

You were pregnant.

The baby shower was intimate, warm. Charles, Daniel, and Checo argued over who Sofie would call “Uncle” first. They made bets and silly presentations. And when Sofie was born, everything changed.

Max’s world shrank to her. He held her like she was made of stardust, something too delicate to exist. He cried—actual tears—and kissed her forehead with a reverence you’d never seen before.

“She’s so small,” he whispered, eyes wide. “So perfect.”

The protective dad mode kicked in hard. Drivers came to visit with gift baskets and toys—each of them getting a lecture from Max. “Hands washed. Masks on. No sneezing. Touch nothing until instructed.”

Sofie rolled over during tummy time, crawled in your living room, walked across the cat-strewn floor with Max filming and softly cheering. Her birthdays became events of pure magic.

Her first: pastel princess fantasy. Max teared up watching her toddle around in her tiara. Lando caught him. “Are you crying?” he whispered, smirking.

Max sniffled, glaring. “No.”

After the party, when Sofie was asleep, you cleaned confetti off the floor with aching feet and gave Max a tired high five. “Success.”

“Always,” he said, brushing a kiss to your temple.

Her second: unicorns. Lando in costume. Carlos wheezing from laughter. “I might hire you in the future,” Carlos told Lando, who was sweltering in glitter and misery.

“Public humiliation,” Lando muttered.

Her third: animals. Of course. Oscar was the zookeeper, Lando a lion again, Fernando a grumpy honorary guest who Sofie insisted on including. You snapped photos of it all—blackmail, surely, for future teenage rebellion.

“Drink and movie?” you asked Max that night.

He kissed your knuckles. “Of course, mijn liefste.”

Her fourth: Sesame Street. Daniel was Cookie Monster by force. “She likes him,” Max offered, stealing a cupcake.

“She’s my niece. That’s the only reason I’m doing this,” Daniel muttered, swiping frosting off his suit.

Lewis wandered in. “Have you seen Roscoe?”

“She’s feeding him snacks under the table,” you said casually. “Good luck with that.”

Another successful party. Another sleepy Sofie, surrounded by “uncles” on the floor. Another high five. Another kiss goodnight.

But now… now she was turning five.

And something shifted.

Her dolls? Dusty. Her tiaras? Forgotten. Her plushies? Stuffed in the toy box, untouched.

“She’s changing,” you said one night, sitting beside Max, folding laundry. “She’s not into the princess phase anymore.”

He looked at you, thoughtful. “It’s a phase, schatje. She’s growing. Let her.”

You tried to believe it. But it still stung.

One morning, you served pancakes, placing the final plate down in front of your daughter. She sat across from Max, legs swinging under the table, hair tied up in her favorite pink scrunchie.

“What do you want to do for your birthday this year, lieve?” you asked with a warm smile.

Her eyes lit up. “Race cars! Like Papa’s racing!”

Your hand froze mid-air. You blinked. Max looked up from his coffee, noticing the way your expression faltered.

You smiled softly. “Race cars?”

“Yep!” she grinned. “I wanna drive and be fast and beat everyone like Papa!”

Max reached over, resting a reassuring hand on your thigh under the table. “She’s watching us, schatje.”

You blinked the emotion away, forcing a grin. “Race cars it is.”

She clapped, delighted.

Later that night, when Sofie was asleep, Max pulled you close. “She’s still your baby,” he whispered against your hair.

“I know.” You sniffled. “But she’s not… little anymore.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, his voice thick with affection. “No matter how fast she grows, no one replaces you. You’re the one who made this life possible. You gave me everything.”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The next morning unfolded with a calm softness—rare, but welcomed. The skies above Monaco were clear, sunshine glittering off the glass buildings as Max drove through the winding city streets. You sat in the passenger seat, one arm casually resting along the console, the other hand wrapped around your warm coffee. Sofie sat in her car seat behind you, kicking her little legs and rambling excitedly in the way only a child could.

“…and the cupcakes should be chocolate, but also strawberry, and then we can have a race track cake, and Papa can bring his car—just for the party! And balloons, but red, not pink. Pink is for babies, Mama.”

You chuckled, glancing at Max with an amused raise of your brow. “You hear that? No pink. She’s officially too grown up for princess themes.”

Max smirked. “That’s devastating. I was looking forward to wearing another tiara.”

“Please,” you said, laughing. “Last year you wore it better than I did. Checo still has that photo framed.”

Sofie leaned forward, strapped tightly in her booster but determined to be part of the conversation. “Can Jack come too?”

“Jack?” you echoed, glancing back. “Of course, baby. I’ll talk to Toto and Susie. I’m sure they’ll bring him. He wouldn't miss it.”

Sofie squealed in delight, kicking her feet. “Yay! Jack and me are gonna beat everyone on the track!”

You smiled, already picturing the chaos of five-year-olds with tiny karts and an F1 audience cheering them on. You looked at Max, a warmth tugging at your chest. “Tell the drivers to hurry up and have kids. Our daughter needs a whole junior paddock.”

Max laughed. “That’s a dangerous idea.”

You smirked. “Why? Scared of a new generation?”

He made a show of pretending to think. “Oscar and Lily? Too busy being adorable. Yuki… still can’t take care of himself, let alone a baby. Lando? God help us all if he becomes someone’s dad right now.”

You snorted. “Amen.”

“And Fernando?” Max continued. “That man will father a championship before he fathers a child.”

You arched a brow. “And Lewis?”

“Lewis has Roscoe. That’s already a full-time kid,” Max said, glancing at you with a grin. “High maintenance.”

You both laughed until a tiny voice interrupted.

“Mama! Papa!” Sofie called, wriggling in her seat. “Invite my other friends too!”

You twisted to look at her. “Your other friends? You mean the ones at school?”

She shook her head quickly, digging through her little sparkly backpack like it was filled with secrets. With dramatic flair, she pulled out several sealed envelopes—gold stickers keeping them closed—and held them up like treasure.

“My racing friends. My brothers!” she said with a proud little nod.

You blinked, taking the envelopes as she handed them to you one by one. “Brothers?”

And then it clicked.

Kimi Antonelli. Ollie Bearman. Isack Hadjar. Liam Lawson.

They weren’t just names in F2 and F1. They were constants in Sofie’s little universe—regular faces at your table, in your living room, voices that made her light up with pure joy. To her, they weren’t rising stars or young drivers. They were her playmates, protectors, snack thieves, homework buddies—her brothers.

Max glanced at you and you saw the exact same realization cross his face.

“Right,” you said gently, brushing a hand over her knee. “Of course. Me and Papa will invite them, too. They’ll be there, baby.”

Sofie cheered again, eyes wide with excitement, and you felt your chest squeeze. You turned back toward the front as Max stopped at a red light, and for a brief moment, the hum of the world quieted.

“She really loves them,” you murmured.

“They really love her back,” Max replied softly.

You smiled to yourself, already seeing it in your mind—the boys trickling in, older but still so gentle with her. You remembered how Kimi would show up with his homework, slouched in your kitchen chair, pencil in hand while Sofie sat beside him with her toy laptop pretending to help. She called him “Kimi the Smart,” and he never corrected her—even when he barely passed a math test.

Ollie would stop by unannounced, digging through your snack drawer with the kind of hunger only a young driver could justify. “She said I could have cookies,” he’d argue. Sofie would appear from the hallway, arms crossed. “Only if you read me a bedtime story first.” And he always did.

Isack came for the food. Not the snacks—real meals. “It’s better than the paddock,” he always claimed as he helped set the table. He’d let Sofie braid his hair, even though it was barely long enough, and pretend to cry when she tightened it too hard.

Liam was dragged into everything—from tea parties to “driveway grand prix” races with tricycles. Once, he walked into your living room in a full Elsa dress, crown and all, because Sofie had insisted. Max nearly cried laughing. Liam stayed in it the whole afternoon.

They weren’t just boys passing through. They were part of the family you built. They showed up, again and again, not for obligation—but because they wanted to. Because Sofie mattered to them, and maybe, in a strange way, you and Max had created something much larger than a family of three.

You'd created a home that people wanted to come back to.

Max reached over and took your hand as the car rolled forward. “She really is growing up fast, huh?”

You nodded. “Too fast. But I think we’re doing okay.”

He glanced in the mirror at Sofie, who was now humming to herself, staring out the window like she could already see her party coming to life.

“We’re doing better than okay,” he said. “We gave her a team.”

You smiled, leaning back into your seat. “One hell of a team.”

The car rolled gently to a stop in front of Sofie’s school. Max reached over to put it in park, the soft click echoing in the morning hush. In the backseat, Sofie was quiet now, her earlier giggles and chatter about the party giving way to a more withdrawn stillness. She stared out the window, backpack clutched tightly in her lap, the colorful invitations barely peeking out from the front pocket.

You turned around from the front seat, noticing the shift. Her lips were slightly pursed, eyebrows scrunched just a little in thought—something she only did when she was nervous or trying not to cry.

You reached over to open her car door and unbuckle her from the car seat. As you leaned in, she looked at you carefully, her eyes wide.

“So… my brothers are really coming?” she asked softly.

You smiled warmly, smoothing back a wisp of her soft hair. “Yes, baby. I already told you, we’ll invite them today. They’ll be there. Especially Kimi.”

That brought the tiniest spark back to her face. “Tell bubba Kimi to bring Eli, please?” she asked in a small, hopeful voice. “She paints my nails really pretty… like the sparkle kind.”

Max chuckled from the driver’s seat, resting one arm out the window. “You’ve got quite the party committee forming.”

“She’s like a celebrity already,” you said with a soft laugh, grabbing Sofie’s bag. “Red carpet, mani-pedi, guest list.”

Sofie smiled faintly, then turned to Max. “Bye, Papa,” she said, blowing him a kiss.

He caught it with both hands this time, exaggeratedly pressing it to his cheek. “Have fun, sweet girl. Be fast, be kind, be you.”

That earned another small smile. You helped her down from the car, and she immediately reached for your hand, holding it tighter than usual as you began walking her toward the school.

As you entered the familiar hallway, the noise of the morning buzzed around you—shoes squeaking, zippers zipping, the hum of chatter and laughter. And then, a few feet ahead, a group of little girls stood in a loose circle near the classroom door, showing off big pastel bows clipped into their ponytails. Each girl had her own distinct color—lavender, bubblegum pink, sunshine yellow. They giggled, whispering as one showed off her sparkly unicorn clip.

You felt Sofie’s steps slow.

“Those are the girls you told me and Papa about, right? The ones who love unicorns and snacks?” you asked, glancing at them and then down at her.

She hesitated.

Then nodded. “Yeah,” she said quickly. “They’re my best friends.”

Her voice was a little too high-pitched, a little too forced. You didn’t catch it—not fully. You were watching the girls, not her.

You smiled, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. “That’s great, sweetie. Make sure you give them their invitations, okay? They’ll be so excited.”

She didn’t answer, just gave a small nod, her grip on your hand tightening. You walked her the rest of the way to the classroom, where her teacher stood by the door greeting students.

“Good morning!” the teacher beamed.

“Morning!” you greeted in return, then crouched down to meet Sofie at her level. “Alright, soon-to-be birthday girl. I want you to have a really great day, okay? Be your kind, brave, smart self. And remember—don’t let anyone tell you your glitter bow isn’t cool.”

She looked at you for a long moment. And then, without a word, she suddenly threw her arms around your neck, hugging you tight.

So tight it surprised you.

“Oh,” you laughed softly, hugging her back. “Big squeeze!”

But she didn’t let go right away. She stayed there for a few seconds longer, her small frame pressed to yours. You didn’t see the way her face scrunched up, the way she blinked fast, trying to push down the sting in her eyes. You didn’t feel the way her chest trembled just slightly when she pulled away, looking down at the floor as she adjusted her bag on her shoulder.

“Hey,” you whispered gently, brushing your knuckles across her cheek. “You alright?”

She nodded again quickly. “Mhm. I’m okay.”

Her voice wavered, just a little. But then she stepped into the classroom.

You handed the teacher the small stack of extra invitations you had tucked in your purse, just in case. “We’re planning the party this weekend. She’s got quite a list.”

“She’s been talking about it for weeks,” the teacher said with a knowing smile. “Don’t worry, we’ll help her hand them out.”

You smiled in gratitude, stepping aside as another cluster of kids passed by. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Sofie sit down at her table, setting her bag beside her and slipping an envelope out to place in a cubby. You watched her glance up at the girls with the bows, who were still standing in their circle, whispering. They didn’t even look at her.

But she looked at them.

Just for a second.

Then back down to her desk.

You waved gently. She didn’t see it—her eyes were on her hands now, fidgeting in her lap.

You turned to leave, calling a final soft goodbye before walking back out into the sunlit morning.

Max was leaning on the car now, still nursing his coffee. He looked up as you approached, sensing something.

“All good?” he asked, tossing the empty cup in a nearby bin.

You nodded with a sigh, sliding your sunglasses on. “She hugged me like she was going off to war, but yeah. She’s good.”

“Maybe just nerves,” Max said, unlocking the car. “Party planning pressure.”

“Maybe,” you replied, sliding into your seat.

But even as you said it, a small thought nagged at the back of your mind.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

With Sofie dropped off at school, the car ride home was quiet, almost still. You sat beside Max, fingers tapping at a to-do list on your phone, while he drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting comfortably between you.

“She asked for Eli,” you murmured, glancing over at him.

Max chuckled, the sound low and affectionate. “I heard. Bubba Kimi better show up with a whole salon kit.”

You smiled, heart a little full at the thought of your daughter wanting her "big siblings" at her party—Kimi and his girlfriend Eli included. She had her favorites, and Eli, with her fun nail kits and bright makeup bags, was always welcomed with open arms.

“We’ve got a lot to do before next weekend,” you sighed, leaning back in the seat.

“Which is why we’re seeing Toto and Susie,” Max said, turning the wheel. “Let’s get it done.”

By the time you reached their villa nestled in the Monaco hills, the late morning sun had lit up the soft cream stones of their front terrace. Monaco’s skyline glistened in the distance, but here, everything felt a bit slower, more personal.

Susie greeted you both at the door with that signature warmth of hers. “You’re early,” she teased, stepping back to let you in. “Which means you’re either running from something or planning something.”

“Both,” you joked. “We need help.”

“Breakfast first,” she smiled, already heading back toward the kitchen. “Toto’s in the back garden, sulking over emails and espresso.”

Max gave you a look and smirked. “He’s always in that state.”

You laughed together as you followed her in. The table was set with fresh fruit, flaky croissants, eggs, and plenty of coffee. You hardly got to sit down before Toto appeared through the sliding glass doors, sleeves rolled, sunglasses perched atop his head, holding a small plate of berries.

“Well if it isn’t Monaco’s most stubborn couple,” he said, placing his plate down. “What brings the Verstappens to my home this early?”

“We come with birthday demands,” Max said flatly, settling in with a croissant.

You leaned in. “It’s about Sofie’s party.”

Toto raised a brow, clearly interested.

“She wants a karting theme this year,” you began. “And not the pretend kind, either. She’s serious. She wants a track.”

“And she doesn’t just want to play at racing,” Max added. “She wants to race. Helmets. Flags. Mini podiums.”

Toto leaned back, his expression unreadable. “You know this is Monaco, right? We don’t exactly have open space just lying around.”

“We thought about that,” you said, pulling out your phone. “But we found something.”

You tapped open a photo of a tucked-away private outdoor kart track just outside the main city—close to the water, low-profile, small enough to keep intimate and safe, but polished enough to look impressive.

Toto leaned in. “This is the one near Fontvieille?”

“Yeah,” Max said. “Heard you’ve hosted a few team events there.”

“Private. Gated. Decent track for kids. There’s a viewing deck too,” Toto said, nodding slowly. “It’s not bad.”

“We want it for her birthday,” you said. “The whole afternoon. Preferably media-free, completely private.”

“She wants her friends to race too,” Max added, stealing a strawberry from your plate. “And her 'brothers'—Kimi, Ollie, Isack, Liam. She's got them all on a list.”

“And she specifically asked for Jack,” you added with a knowing smile. “So you and Susie have to come.”

Toto exhaled, but there was no resistance behind it. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Alright. I can make the calls. I know the guy who runs it—he owes me a favor or two.”

“See? I told you he still had his Mercedes clout,” Max joked, nudging your knee under the table.

Susie grinned. “You’re lucky we adore that little girl.”

You reached into your bag and pulled out four glittery, slightly crumpled envelopes. “She wanted these delivered personally.”

Toto took them carefully, reading the names: Kimi, Ollie, Isack, Liam.

“She calls them her racing brothers,” Max said, glancing toward the garden.

“And she asked for Eli to come too,” you added. “She loves how she paints her nails and makes her feel grown-up.”

“Eli’s already asking what color she wants,” Susie laughed. “I think she’s going to bring a little kit for all the girls.”

“That’ll make her so happy,” you said, the warmth curling in your chest. “She’s so ready for this birthday. I just want to get it right.”

“You two always do,” Susie said sincerely.

You glanced at Max, who gave you that soft, rare smile—the one only for you, the one he wore when you both shared the silent understanding of just how lucky you were.

Toto stood with a stretch. “I’ll call the track manager today. If all goes well, you’ll have your mini-Monaco Grand Prix ready to go.”

Max clapped his hands together. “Perfect. Now we just need to build a podium.”

“Oh, she’s already asking for trophies,” you said with a laugh. “I may have to get them custom made.”

“I’ll get Jack practicing his wave,” Toto muttered.

You all burst into laughter, the morning filled with more than just plans—it held warmth, community, and the kind of love you couldn’t script if you tried.

As your coffee cup neared empty and the conversation began to slow, you leaned back in your chair, fingers laced loosely over your stomach as you glanced between Toto and Susie.

“Do you guys know if George and Carmen are busy today?” you asked, your tone casual, but already mentally organizing what needed to be done next.

Toto sat back with a thoughtful hum, brushing a crumb off his shirt. “I don’t think so. George mentioned he had the weekend off, and Carmen said something about wanting to check out that new home decor boutique near the harbor, but nothing concrete. Worth texting them.”

You nodded, already reaching for your phone. Before you could tap the screen, you glanced at Max.

“And you,” you said, narrowing your eyes in mock warning, “for once, can you please put whatever unspoken, silly track drama you’ve got with George behind you? Just for Sofie?”

Susie snorted behind her mug, clearly entertained, while Toto chuckled under his breath.

Max raised both hands as if caught red-handed. “I’m not the one who keeps trying to ‘accidentally’ block him during qualifying.”

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

He sighed and leaned forward on his elbows, eyes softening slightly. “Alright. Fine. I’ll behave. It’s about Sofie, not me and George.”

You gave him an approving smile and reached over to kiss his cheek. “Thank you. That’s all I needed to hear.”

“You guys are so dramatic,” Susie said, standing up to start clearing plates. “You’re just lucky you’re raising the cutest little girl on the grid.”

Toto stood too, taking the envelopes you'd handed him earlier. “I’ll call about the track the moment you leave. If it's available, it's yours. I’ll text you.”

“Perfect,” you said, rising to your feet. “Thank you both. For the food, the help, everything.”

You walked over to hug Susie tightly. “This birthday might actually come together.”

“It always does,” she said warmly.

“And thanks to you too, big boss,” you grinned, giving Toto a quick hug.

“You’re very welcome, princess of Red Bull,” he teased, earning a playful groan from Max.

As the door shut behind you and Max, the warm smell of Susie’s breakfast still clinging to your clothes, you walked down the steps with purpose.

“Okay! Before we meet up with George and Carmen,” you announced, tugging on Max’s sleeve as you both headed toward the car, “I need you to take me to Lando’s.”

Max stopped walking like you just asked him to drop you off at the devil’s front porch.

“Lando’s?” he asked, slowly turning toward you, narrowing his eyes. “As in Norris?”

You looked over your shoulder, already opening the passenger door. “Yes, as in Norris. I need to talk to him. Personally.”

Max blinked. “Personally?”

“Personally,” you repeated, hopping in the car like it was no big deal. “He owes me a favor.”

Max raised a brow and got in behind the wheel, giving you a suspicious side-eye. “Right. A favor. You sure you’re not just going over there so he can hit on you again in that stupid flirty voice he uses when he’s trying to pretend he has a chance?”

You grinned. “Max, please. I am a happily married woman,” you said, waving your hand in front of his face and flashing your wedding ring like it was a shield. “Married to the world champion. The father of my child. The man I trust to tell me when I’ve left the oven on. I’m not running off with Lando for some favors.”

Max muttered under his breath, “He probably color-coordinates the cones with his shoes.”

You snorted. “He does. And he also has a very cute balloon setup I’m trying to get for Sofie’s party. And I need a custom banner for her birthday, he's the man for the job, he's done it for his own niece—tell me that’s not fate.”

Max sighed as he started the car. “You know, if he flirts with you in that dumb little voice again, I might lock him in his McLaren simulator for 24 hours.”

“You’re welcome to try,” you teased, then leaned back in your seat, glancing at him sideways. “But you know I only flirt back when it’s for leverage.”

His grip tightened on the steering wheel. “You flirted back?”

You grinned. “Relax, Verstappen. I said if. Besides, he’s harmless. Like a golden retriever in Gucci sneakers. and I never flirt with Lando, besides he's always joking and I always jokingly tell him you'll kick his ass."

He shook his head, but a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “You better not give him that smile.”

“What smile?” you asked innocently.

He turned to glance at you at a red light. “That one. The ‘I need something, and I’ll giggle while I ask’ smile.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said sweetly, already pulling out your phone. “Besides, it works.”

Max sighed again, defeated but amused. “Fine. Go to Lando’s. But I’m staying in the car. If he comes out shirtless again, I’m driving off without you.”

You laughed. “Fair. But if he’s shirtless, I’m definitely getting that balloon arch.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“And still your wife.”

“That part I don’t regret,” he muttered, shaking his head as the car took off toward Lando’s place in the glittering hills of Monaco, your laughter echoing in the air.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

You didn’t knock. You never did. At this point, Lando Norris should’ve expected you to waltz right into his Monaco flat like it was your second home.

“Breaking and entering again?” he called out as he heard the door open.

“Only breaking,” you called back, already making your way into the kitchen. “I’ve entered smoother places.”

Lando appeared around the corner, tousled curls, no shoes, and wearing a hoodie that clearly hadn't seen an iron in weeks. He gave you a skeptical look as you grabbed a sparkling water from his fridge like it was yours. “You’re awfully comfortable for someone trespassing.”

You took a sip, resting your hip against the counter. “Please. If I was trespassing, I wouldn’t be asking for a favor.”

His brows lifted. “Ah, so that’s what this is. What am I loaning now? My yacht? My soul?”

You smirked. “Sofie’s birthday is coming up, and we’re trying to keep it simple, fun, and personal. Max and I could throw her some wild, luxury-level event—but that’s not who we are. We want her to remember the love, not the bill.”

Lando softened a little. “That’s actually kind of sweet.”

You pointed at him. “Don’t get sentimental on me. I’m not done.”

He laughed.

“I remember you had that balloon arch set-up at your niece’s party. Orange and white? Minimal, but really cute. It’d be perfect for Sofie’s birthday.”

“You want to borrow it?” he asked, eyebrow cocked.

“Yes. I could go out and order some new one from some event planner, but… why? You already have it. It’s cute. And it’s from someone who actually likes Sofie. That means more to us than overpriced glitter balloons that’ll pop in five minutes.”

He gave you a lopsided grin. “You’re really pulling the emotional card, huh?”

You shrugged. “It’s not an act. We want people she loves involved in this day—not just vendors with clipboards. The less it feels like a show, the more it feels like home.”

He nodded, then raised a teasing brow. “What’s next, you want me to personally blow up all the balloons too?”

You pointed again. “I mean, if you’re offering…”

He rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “Alright. I’ll get you the arch, and I’ll even throw in the mini banner I had made—just swap the name out.”

You lit up. “You’re a legend. And one more thing—if you’re thinking of getting her a gift…”

“Oh no. You’re not wrangling me into more.”

“You have a helmet collection,” you said, matter-of-factly. “She’s obsessed with them. Obsessed. She watches your behind-the-scenes vlogs and pauses to look at the shelves. A mini replica would make her year.”

Lando sighed dramatically, but there was no resistance. “Fine. I’ll see if I can get one custom-made. She deserves it.”

“See? That’s why I came to you.” You grinned. “Not because you’re the face of McLaren—though, you know, that helps—but because you care. That’s what we want for her birthday. People who care.”

He tilted his head. “Does Max know you’re here buttering me up?”

You checked your watch. “He’s in the car downstairs. I told him I needed to talk to you privately—strictly business. I assume he’s staring at the time, counting how long I’ve been alone with you.”

Lando chuckled. “Tell him I behaved.”

“Oh, I will. I’ll even tell him you offered to blow up the balloons.”

“Don’t push it.”

You pushed off the counter, tossing the empty bottle into his recycling bin. “You’re the best, Lando. Really.”

“Only because it’s for Sofie,” he called as you headed out.

You paused at the door and turned around. “Exactly why I came to you.”

“Came to me and not Oscar…” Lando muttered as he walked you to the door, arms lazily folded across his chest.

You turned back with a grin, already expecting the jab. “He’s next on my list. Love bothering dear ol’ Piastri. He’s so… composed. Watching him slowly unravel is kind of fun.”

Lando snorted. “What’s next—gonna ask him to DJ?”

You tilted your head, mock thoughtful. “You know, that’s actually not a bad idea…”

He stared at you, half horrified. “No. No, no, no. That man listens to silence recreationally. I wouldn’t trust him to run a toaster, let alone a sound system.”

You grinned. “To be fair, you wouldn’t be allowed to DJ at my kid’s party either.”

Lando put a hand over his chest, fake-offended. “Excuse me? I have taste.”

“You have a playlist titled ‘Pure Chaos, Vol. 2’. And the cover is just a blurry photo of you in sunglasses.”

“Artistic expression,” he defended, then sighed. “Fine. So I can’t DJ. But I can still bring the balloons, the arch, the banner. The classics. I’m reliable.”

You tapped your chin. “Actually, one more thing…”

He leaned in dramatically. “Is it a pony? Because I draw the line at live animals.”

You snapped your fingers. “Music. Bring a speaker. Nothing crazy—just something we can hook up to my phone. I’ll make a playlist with her favorite songs.”

“Like the Moana soundtrack on repeat?” he asked, deadpan.

You smiled. “Exactly. She also loves that silly Dutch song Max taught her. I have no clue what it says but she sings it like it’s gospel.”

He chuckled. “Alright. I’ll bring a speaker. But just so we’re clear—it’ll be a small one. Real tiny.”

You crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes. “You’re a millionaire.”

He gasped. “Sofie is going to make me go broke!”

You both burst into laughter, and then, for a moment, things settled into a comfortable silence.

You stepped forward, wrapping him in a quick, warm hug. “Thanks, Lando. Really.”

He hugged you back with a grin. “You know I’d do anything for her.”

You pulled away and gave him a playful warning point. “No DJ-ing. No fog machines. Just show up, smile, and hand over the balloon arch.”

He gave you a mock salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

Back downstairs, Max sat in the car, arm draped lazily over the steering wheel, scrolling on his phone. As you opened the door and slid into the passenger seat, he glanced sideways.

“Did he flirt?” he asked without looking up.

You leaned in and kissed his cheek, smiling. “He was a perfect gentleman. I’m irresistible, but he tried his best.”

Max smirked, tossing his phone into the console and starting the engine. “Good."

“Well,” you said, settling into your seat, “now take me to George and Carmen.”

“That’s stop number two?” he asked, pulling into the road.

“Oh, no, my love. After George and Carmen, I need Oscar. Then we head to Lewis. Then Charles. And by the time we’re done doing this grand prix of birthday planning…”

“We’ll be picking Sofie up from school,” Max finished with a groan.

You reached over and patted his leg. “Welcome to the domestic paddock.”

He just laughed, driving toward the next stop, knowing full well that for Sofie—you both would do this a hundred times over.

The day had been a whirlwind—no, more like a full-blown sprint from one friend to another, and the weight of planning Sofie’s fifth birthday was finally catching up to you.

You and Max had started strong with George and Carmen. They met you at a cozy café tucked away in Monaco’s quieter streets. Over warm pastries and espresso, they eagerly agreed to help coordinate catering—something that would bring together all of Sofie’s favorite comfort foods, from tiny grilled cheese bites to heart-shaped fruit platters and little macarons. Carmen even suggested a vegan dessert option “just in case,” and George promised to talk to someone about outdoor seating near the track.

Next was Oscar. You had warned Max ahead of time to let you lead, knowing Oscar’s naturally quiet demeanor. But surprisingly, he welcomed you both with a calm smile, and once you mentioned activities for a little girl’s birthday party, his entire posture softened. Growing up with sisters gave him a special insight—and Lily, his ever-supportive girlfriend, chimed in over video call with ideas about crafting stations and maybe a bubble machine. You left with a list of surprisingly thoughtful ideas, plus the promise of a gift from both of them.

Then came Lewis.

You met at his sleek apartment, a space that felt like modern art had collided with calm energy. You asked him to host the karting portion of the party—after all, kids looked up to him, and his name carried both weight and warmth. He was honored, of course, but you had one specific request. “Roscoe has to come.”

Lewis laughed, nodding as Max smirked. “I figured that was non-negotiable.”

“Completely,” you grinned. “She doesn’t want to race unless her favorite dog is trackside.”

Roscoe, aging but still regal, was happy to oblige—even if he’d mostly be napping through the event in a shady spot with his tongue out.

Then finally, you headed to Charles and Alex’s place. Their shared home was lively, filled with soft music and the smell of whatever Alex was cooking when you arrived. She was thrilled to help with the goodie bags—already pulling out themed stickers, ribbon, and mini toys. “Leo can’t wait,” she said with a bright smile, referring to their dog that Sofie also loved. Charles, lounging with a sleepy Leo on his lap, looked up. “I’ll get you all the merch we’ve got,” he offered, already pulling out his phone to message someone on the Ferrari team.

And now—at last—you and Max were walking into the final stop: the bakery.

The scent of sugar, vanilla, and warm bread wrapped around you both like a soft blanket. You closed your eyes for a second, inhaling deeply. The display case glittered with cakes like jewels—fondant-covered dreams in every shade and theme.

“Okay…” you said, lacing your fingers through Max’s. Your voice was quieter now, tinged with fatigue. “We know how many guests. We know how many layers we need. And we’re doing an F1 theme. We just need to lock in a flavor.”

Max stepped forward with a kind of quiet confidence that made your heart flutter despite the exhaustion. “I know what she likes,” he said simply.

You watched as he leaned casually on the counter, listing everything out to the baker with a gentle authority. “Five layers. Vanilla and strawberry swirl for the top, chocolate for the base. Middle tiers mix of lemon and white cake. No fondant. Just soft buttercream—Italian Meringue.”

The baker nodded, impressed. “And the design?”

He smiled. “A miniature track on the top. Small racing cars. One with her name on it. And pink accents. Lots of pink.”

You blinked slowly, your heart so full you could barely stand it.

This was Max in his element—not the race suit, not the podium, not the press. But here, in a bakery, ordering a cake for his daughter with the kind of care most people saved for world championships.

When he turned around, he handed you the order receipt with a satisfied little smirk. “Done. We pick it up the morning of the party.”

You scanned the paper briefly, then looked up at him. “Italian Meringue Buttercream?”

He nodded. “Only the best.”

You exhaled a soft laugh and stepped forward, kissing his cheek tenderly. “Thank you. Seriously.”

Max wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you in for a moment, his lips brushing your temple. “She’s only five once,” he murmured. “Let’s make it count.”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The day had finally wound down after what felt like a whirlwind of movement. Your phone had buzzed nearly non-stop—messages from drivers, friends, family. Each one confirming their part, their presence. You and Max had pulled it off again. Another party, another year, another carefully stitched-together moment of joy for your daughter.

Sofie’s birthday was going to be perfect.

At least… it looked perfect on paper.

Later that afternoon, you both picked her up from school. She clambered into the back seat with a sleepy grin, her voice soft, a little quieter than usual. She talked about her day in fragments—mentioning what she had for lunch, how the sun was too hot on the playground, how her teacher wore funny shoes that squeaked. And then, tucked in between all those little things, she said, “My friends are coming to the party.”

Your heart had lifted at first. You gave her a soft smile in the mirror. “That’s great, baby.”

But something about the way she said it… the way her eyes drifted to the window right after… it stayed with you.

The evening passed gently. Dinner was simple, the lights were warm, and the sea breeze brushed against the Monaco skyline as you helped Sofie settle into bed. She clutched her Ferrari plushie close, the one Max had custom ordered the year she was obsessed with pit stops. She didn’t fight sleep that night. She just turned over and drifted off like a leaf on water.

Her room was dim now, filled with soft pinks and whites, her little books neatly lined on the shelf. In the corner, her toy box sat slightly open, stuffed with a mix of stuffed animals and race cars. And on her nightstand was a framed photo—one of her favorites. Sofie, grinning from ear to ear, with her cheeks slightly smudged from a chocolate snack, standing beside Yuki Tsunoda in the paddock. Yuki had crouched beside her, doing a peace sign, both of them wearing oversized sunglasses. The photo had been taken during last season’s race weekend in Japan, and she had insisted it be framed because, in her words, “Yuki is small like me.”

You smiled at it briefly, then turned to finish cleaning.

It was late now. Max was downstairs, tidying the kitchen while you stayed behind to finish Sofie’s room. You moved quietly, scooping up scattered toys, fluffing pillows, straightening the corners of her blanket.

And then you saw it—her little backpack, tipped halfway off the side of her table.

You reached for it absentmindedly, grabbing the handle to move it to the hook. But the zipper was undone. Papers spilled to the floor like leaves on a windy day.

You crouched down with a soft sigh. “She always forgets to zip it up…” you muttered, shaking your head.

Then you froze.

There, half-tucked into the folder pocket, were the invitations.

Uncreased. Unmarked. Untouched.

Still there.

All of them.

You slowly gathered them, your breath catching. The glitter glue you helped her with still shimmered faintly under the soft glow of the hallway light. Her little handwriting—proud and bouncy—read: “Come to my birthday!!” with hearts drawn around the names of her classmates. But none of them had left her backpack.

Not one had made it into a child’s hand.

Your chest felt hollow as you knelt there, gently placing the invitations back where they had come from. Your fingers lingered over them for a beat too long, heart twisting.

The house was still now. Too still.

You turned off the last light and made your way to the bedroom, your movements slow, like you were carrying the weight of something invisible.

Max was already in bed, scrolling lazily through his phone, waiting for you. When he looked up, the moment his eyes caught yours, his expression changed. He set the phone aside immediately.

“Lieverd…” he said softly, sitting up straighter. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

You walked over slowly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I was cleaning her room… and I found the invitations. The ones we helped her make for school.”

He blinked. “She gave them to her friends already, right?”

You shook your head, your throat tightening. “No. They’re still in her bag, Max. Every single one.”

His eyebrows knit together, mouth opening slightly. “What… she must’ve forgotten. Maybe she was nervous about giving them out?”

You just looked at him, the silence answering for you.

And then you said, quietly, “Max… I don’t think she has anyone to give them to.”

He flinched, his features tightening. “Don’t say that.”

“I’m not trying to be cruel,” you replied gently. “But I’ve seen it. When we drop her off… the girls, they don’t even say hi. She sits at that tiny little desk, on her own, while the others group up.”

He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes suddenly stormy. “No. She has friends. She plays with Kimi and Ollie and—”

“She calls them her brothers,” you cut in softly.

“Because she loves them,” he snapped, but the bite in his voice was more self-defense than anything.

“She never asks for sleepovers. She doesn’t talk about birthday parties at school. She only talks about our friends, your friends, and how she wants to be around them. Max…”

You sat on the edge of the bed, your voice shaking now. “I think she’s lonely.”

He stood abruptly, his voice rising—not in anger, but in desperation. “She’s got us. She’s got so much. She’s smart, and she’s bright, and she’s funny as hell, and beautiful, and bilingual, and—”

“I know she is.”

“She’s got your smile and my stubbornness, and she lights up every room she walks into—how can you say no one wants to be her friend?”

You stood too, reaching for his hands, pulling them down to yours.

“I’m not saying that to hurt you. I’m saying it because I saw her face this morning when those girls walked past her without a single word.”

He looked away, his throat visibly tightening. You saw it now—under all the frustration and protest, he was hurting.

Deeply.

Because he had promised himself he would never let her feel the kind of loneliness he knew all too well. The kind he had carried through childhood, behind closed doors and in foreign paddocks. He had vowed to break that cycle.

And yet, here it was, slipping through the cracks.

"Max, at some point, you have to accept that this is happening," you said, your voice quiet but firm, the kind of tone that came from deep worry, the kind only parents knew. The words felt like glass on your tongue, but they needed to be said.

Max stood in front of you, arms crossed over his chest, jaw tight. He shook his head slowly, defiantly. “No,” he said, voice sharp. “Because I won’t let it happen.”

You sighed, your shoulders sagging under the invisible weight you’d both been carrying all day. “Max, she needs friends her age,” you said gently, pleading with your eyes for him to hear you. “Hanging out with ours, yours and mine, it isn’t going to fix what’s going on when she’s not with us. When she’s at school, she’s alone.”

His face hardened, like stone forming under pressure. His voice turned into a low bite, his wall going up like armor. “She has our friends,” he snapped. “And she likes them. And they love her.”

“I know they do, Max,” you said, trying not to raise your voice. “But they’re not her peers.”

You stepped forward, hands reaching out as if to pull his stubborn heart closer, make him see what was breaking yours. “She needs people her age. She can’t go to every race weekend with you forever. She can’t tag along when Lando invites you out for a party, or when Charles hosts another rooftop dinner. She can’t sit next to you while you drink with Daniel or talk strategy with Fernando. That’s not her world.”

He looked away, blinking hard, trying to bite down the emotions climbing his throat. You could see the fight in his jaw, how he flexed his hands to keep from breaking.

“She has the others,” you continued, more gently this time. “Yes, she has Kimi, Isack, Ollie, Liam… but they’re getting older, Max. They’re teenagers now. They’re not always going to want to play board games or sit through cartoon movies. Oscar and Lily won’t always be around to have baking nights. Lando won’t always be free to play dress-up when she asks.”

You paused, swallowing down the rising lump in your throat. “She can’t always trail behind Checo when he’s with his wife and kids. Eventually… everyone has their own life.”

And then you said what neither of you had wanted to admit.

“She’s going to be left behind, Max. She already is.”

That hit something in him. Hard.

Max’s fists clenched at his sides, his breath shaky, his eyes darting around the room like he needed something to hold onto—something solid in a world that was beginning to crack.

“Bullshit…” he muttered, his voice barely audible. “It’s all bullshit.”

But the way his voice cracked near the end—it was the sound of someone trying to run from the very thing that shaped them.

You stepped closer, your hand gently brushing his arm, grounding him. “I know what you’re feeling,” you whispered. “I know. You see yourself in her.”

He said nothing, but his shoulders dropped, and he finally looked at you. Really looked. His eyes were red-rimmed, glistening.

“That feeling…” he said quietly, like it pained him just to give it breath. “When everyone’s laughing and you’re sitting there… pretending you don’t care.”

You nodded.

“I hated it,” he said. “I hated how it made me feel. Like something was wrong with me. Like I was too much or not enough. Always trying to prove myself. Always trying to be liked by doing something. Never just… being.”

Your heart broke a little more hearing it.

“That’s why I gave her everything,” he said, voice shaking. “That’s why I bring her with me. To the races, to the garage, to dinner with the guys. Because there, she’s loved. There, she laughs. There, she’s seen.”

You stepped in front of him, pressing your forehead gently to his. “But we can’t build her whole life around borrowed moments from ours, Max. She needs a world of her own.”

He let out a long, tired breath and finally sank down onto the edge of the bed, like the truth had hit his chest so hard, his legs couldn’t hold him anymore.

“She’s so happy around us,” he said softly. “I thought that was enough.”

“It is,” you said. “But it’s not everything.”

There was silence for a long moment, and then he spoke again, voice barely more than a whisper.

“I don’t want her to think she’s not enough.”

“She never will,” you replied, gently cupping his cheek. “Because she’s got us. And we’ll do whatever we can to help her build something of her own. We’ll talk to her teachers, find other kids with shared interests, maybe even change schools if we have to.”

“She deserves a world,” he whispered. “Not just to live in ours.”

You kissed his temple, your voice soft but filled with quiet power. “Then let’s give her one.”

And in the dim glow of your bedroom, the two of you sat together, not just as husband and wife—but as parents. Not with answers, but with a shared promise.

You would give your daughter the world. And if it didn’t welcome her with open arms, you’d build her a new one.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The days that followed were delicate—fragile, like trying to hold water in your hands and hoping it wouldn’t slip through your fingers. You and Max had made a quiet, mutual promise to show up more, to not just be parents, but pillars. Breakfasts became rituals—stacked pancakes shaped like hearts, fresh fruit slices fanned into rainbows, Sofie tucked between the two of you at the table, chattering away as her sleepy curls bounced with every excited word.

After school, there were quiet hours of play, where she lined up her stuffed animals for a pretend concert and made Max sit cross-legged while she turned into a glittering pop star. You cheered, Max clapped, and for a moment the world outside didn’t exist. But mornings… mornings were the hardest. School had become an obstacle no child should have to face with a brave face and a heavy heart.

So, when Max told you, “Let me take her alone today,” you agreed, though it left you unsettled. Something had shifted in him. You could see it in the way he zipped up her backpack for her, in the way he held her hand as if it were glass, precious and breakable.

At the school, Max walked tall, even in casual clothes, his hand protectively holding Sofie’s as they made their way down the hallway. She clutched her backpack, red sneakers squeaking with every step. He paused outside her classroom door, knelt to her level, brushing her curls behind her ears.

“Hey, you remember what I said?” he asked softly.

She nodded, whispering, “Shoulders back.”

He smiled. “That’s right. Strong like mama, brave like papa.”

She beamed and walked in, waving over her shoulder.

Max stood, his face hardening like steel. His gaze landed on her teacher, who was bent over a desk arranging colored pencils. He walked over, calm but deliberate.

“We need to speak,” he said, voice low but commanding.

The teacher blinked, taken off guard. She stood, stepping out into the hallway and closing the door gently behind her.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

Max didn’t hesitate. “Yes. A lot is wrong,” he said, eyes fixed and unwavering. “Why have neither my wife nor I been contacted about what’s been going on with Sofie?”

The teacher looked confused at first, then flustered. “I—I wasn’t aware there was a concern—”

“She has no one,” Max interrupted, his tone sharper now. “She tells us every day about her ‘friends,’ but when we watch her, she’s alone. Sitting by herself. The other kids ignore her. That’s not a concern to you?”

She hesitated. “Children go through phases—”

“She is not a phase,” he snapped, stepping slightly closer, lowering his voice but not the fire in it. “We don’t drop her off here every morning so she can be pushed aside. I understand children can be selfish, but isn’t that your job? To help guide them toward compassion? Empathy?”

The teacher said nothing. Her silence was too loud.

Max continued, “This weekend is her birthday. The invitations are in her bag. If I find them still there after school—if they are not handed out to every single child in that classroom—I will make sure this becomes a much bigger issue.”

There was something dangerous in the calm of his threat.

“She is a good kid. Bright, loving, loud, funny. She knows how to say ‘thank you’ in three languages and still thinks a photo of her and Yuki Tsunoda in the paddock is one of the best days of her life,” he said, voice softening for just a moment. “She deserves to be seen.”

From the doorway, Sofie peeked out, grinning. Max turned, and instantly, his features softened into a smile just for her.

He gave her a thumbs up.

She giggled and gave him one back, then blew him a kiss. He caught it with exaggerated flair, pressing it to his heart with both hands.

“I love you!” she called.

“I love you more,” he mouthed back, and then turned to walk away, shoulders square, heart still burning.

The dining room was chaos—in the most loving, sugar-filled, glitter-splattered way possible.

You sat on the floor in a cozy oversized hoodie, surrounded by boxes of checkered flag stickers, racing-themed whistles, mini trophies, and little plastic cars. A roll of pink ribbon dangled from your wrist as you carefully tied it around a goodie bag, cinching it tight.

Alex sat cross-legged across from you, working just as diligently. “This is like… if Formula 1 met Barbie and had a sugar-high child.”

You chuckled. “Exactly the aesthetic I was going for.”

The bags were a hit of adrenaline and sweetness—racing-themed from start to finish, but unmistakably Sofie: pink pit passes, mini tires filled with candy, and even small keychains shaped like helmets. Everything screamed her love for speed, but also her love for softness, for color, for joy.

You reached for a small checklist on your phone, double-checking the gifts. “Helmet keychains, tire gummies, flag stickers, race medals... check, check, check.”

Alex leaned back on her palms, raising a curious brow. “Did Lando ever finish that helmet thing you mentioned?”

Your lips curved into a secretive smile. “Yes. It’s done. Pink and black—just like his, but flipped. Even has her name etched in cursive on the back.”

Alex grinned. “No way. That’s gonna make her lose it.”

“She has no idea,” you said softly, pride and emotion tugging at your voice. “It’s just between me and him for now. We’re giving it to her at the end of the party.”

Alex clutched her heart. “You guys are insane with the details. No wonder she’s the most spoiled little speed demon on Earth.”

“She’s loved,” you corrected, looking over the pile of nearly-finished bags. “Not spoiled.”

Alex nodded, no argument. “And you both make sure of that every day.”

Just then, your phone rang—and the second you saw the contact, your stomach twisted.

You answered fast. “Charles?”

“I’m at the bakery,” he said with a sigh. “They’re claiming they don’t have the cake.”

Your mouth dropped open. “What do you mean they don’t have it? We placed the order days ago!”

“I brought the receipt. Still nothing in the system.”

You stood up, pacing already. “Tell them it’s under Max Verstappen. Look again. I swear, Charles, it was confirmed.”

“I’m telling them. But they’re acting like they’ve never seen the name in their life.”

You didn’t even hesitate—you tapped Max’s contact and dialed him.

He picked up instantly, like he knew it was urgent. “What happened?”

“They’re saying they don’t have the cake,” you said, your voice rising. “Charles is there, but they’re not finding the order. Her cake, Max. Her birthday is tomorrow.”

“I’m on it, mama bear,” he said, calm but tight with frustration.

“This has to be perfect. We’ve never messed up before. We can’t start now. Not on this.”

“I know,” he said firmly. “Trust me. I’ll fix it.”

You hung up with a deep exhale, fingers brushing the pink ribbons on the goodie bags as if they could calm your nerves. Alex handed you a gummy tire.

“Eat this,” she said. “And breathe. You’ve got Verstappen going full throttle into bakery battle. It’ll be fine.”

Across town, the little boutique bakery was filled with the scent of fresh pastry and just a hint of trouble.

Charles stood stiff at the counter, holding the order receipt like it was a legal document. “This order was placed for my niece. A five-layer cake. We submitted it days ago.”

The baker behind the counter shrugged again, like he had all the time in the world. “There’s nothing under Charles Leclerc. Nothing under Verstappen either.”

“Check again,” Charles pressed.

The bell above the door jingled sharply.

Max stepped in like a storm front. No greeting. No smile. Just purpose. He spotted Charles and walked straight up.

“What’s going on?” he asked, jaw clenched.

Charles held up the receipt. “They’re saying they don’t have it.”

The baker sighed. “There’s nothing in our system. We need to re-place the order—”

Max cut him off. “No. You’re not listening.”

He stepped closer to the counter, resting his hands there like he was barely containing himself. His voice was low but charged, like thunder before the lightning.

“This cake isn’t just some random request. It’s five layers. Top tier is vanilla and strawberry swirl. Middle layers are lemon and white cake. Base layer is chocolate. No fondant. Just soft buttercream—Italian meringue.”

The baker blinked.

Max didn’t stop.

“Decoration is a miniature track on the top. With tiny racing cars. One of them has her name on it. There are pink accents everywhere—because she loves pink. And because she asked for this. Specifically this.”

Charles stood a little taller beside him. “You don’t understand—this cake means everything. It’s not just dessert. It’s the centerpiece of the day.”

Max leaned forward. “I just watched my daughter walk into school this morning feeling invisible to every kid in her class. I saw her fake a smile. I saw her look for hope. This cake is part of the joy we’re trying to give back to her. So either you honor the receipt you were given—or you lose a whole lot of business.”

“And reputation,” Charles added. “Because I promise you, if this place is the reason my niece doesn’t get the birthday she deserves, you’ll be hearing about it.”

The baker paled. “I… I’ll talk to the kitchen. We’ll find a way to get it done.”

“Good,” Max said, stepping back. “Because if I come back here and it’s not being worked on—I won’t be calm next time.”

He turned sharply, walking out with Charles behind him. As the door shut, Charles exhaled a breath of admiration. “Remind me never to piss you off.”

Max didn’t answer. His mind was already home again—imagining her smile when she saw that pink-iced track, her little fingers tracing her name on that tiny racing car.

No one was going to ruin that.

Not on his watch.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Later that afternoon, the air was soft and golden, the kind of light that kissed everything it touched and made it feel like the day might end gently after all the chaos.

You and Max stood hand in hand outside the school gates, the breeze tugging lightly at your jacket, fingers locked tightly together. You spotted Sofie before she saw you—her little frame bouncing down the school steps with her backpack bouncing right along behind her, hair slightly tousled, cheeks pink from the warm afternoon sun. There was always a piece of your heart that healed just by seeing her.

She noticed you both and her steps quickened, her face lighting up like she hadn’t just seen you this morning. “Mama! Papa!”

“Hey, honeybee,” you smiled, crouching down with open arms as she ran into them, hugging you tight before shifting into Max’s legs.

Max bent slightly, smoothing her hair back. “Let me see your bag, baby.”

Sofie tilted her head, curious. “Why?”

Max gave a light grin. “Just wanna check something.”

She hesitated for a moment, then slowly slipped the straps off her shoulders and passed the bag to him. You leaned in, watching as he unzipped it carefully.

Together, you both sifted through the pockets—crumbled drawings, a rogue crayon, an empty juice box—and then, surprisingly, no envelopes. No stack of pink-and-checkered birthday invites. Your brows lifted.

“You gave them to your class?” you asked, your voice light, though your heart was thudding.

She nodded quickly, her excitement peeking through. “Yup! I passed them out after snack time!”

Then, a beat passed. Her expression changed—her eyes dropped slightly, a small frown tugging at her lips.

“I don’t know if they’ll come though…” she mumbled, her voice small. The uncertainty in her tone pierced right through you.

You glanced up at Max, your heart twisting. He met your eyes, reading your worry instantly. He gave the smallest shrug and then—like clockwork—he stepped in.

“If they don’t,” Max said gently, crouching to her level, “then they’re gonna miss out on the coolest birthday party ever.”

Sofie blinked at him, surprised.

“I mean—think about it,” he said, lifting an eyebrow, “they won’t get to eat that yummy cake we’ve got coming, they won’t get to hang out with your uncles—especially the ones who are basically kids themselves,” he winked.

She started to giggle.

“They won’t get to see Roscoe and Leo in their party bow ties. And they definitely won’t get to meet your best friend Jack.”

Her smile bloomed.

“And worst of all…” Max leaned closer, pretending to whisper, “they’ll miss me. Which is, let’s be honest, tragic.”

That did it. She giggled so hard she snorted a little, covering her mouth with both hands as her eyes crinkled.

You mouthed a silent thank you over her head to Max, overwhelmed by his constant ease, his unwavering ability to smooth the cracks before they spread.

He hummed in reply, then in one effortless move, wrapped his arms around her and scooped her up. She shrieked with laughter and clung to him, resting her head on his shoulder like it was her favorite pillow.

“We’re gonna eat at your favorite place tonight,” Max told her, kissing the side of her forehead. “And tomorrow—we party, okay?”

She nodded eagerly, confidence back in her voice. “Let’s go!”

As you all walked to the car together, you felt the weight in your chest loosen. The tension that had knotted in your stomach since that morning, the uncertainty about the cake, the kids, the timing—it all felt manageable again. Because Max had a way of doing that.

Now that you really thought about it, he always did. From the first time Sofie’s favorite toy broke and he spent an hour at the kitchen table with glue and toothpicks, to the time her markers dried out and he ran to the store before she even noticed. On nights when you were half-asleep in her bed from a nightmare, Max would carry her to yours and let her nestle in between you, then pull the blankets up gently around both his girls.

He had a habit of being exactly what the moment needed. Not flashy. Not dramatic. Just there. Steady. Reliable. Yours.

The car ride was quiet, the soft hum of tires on the road blending with the calm buzz of the early evening. Sofie sat in her car seat behind you, half-singing a little made-up tune as she watched the world go by from the window. You reached over and let your hand rest on Max’s thigh, giving it a small squeeze. He gave your hand a soft pat, his thumb running along your fingers as he drove.

And then, from the backseat, her small voice piped up again.

“Can we get dinner and… watch the water?”

You and Max exchanged a look, a bit confused by the request.

“Watch the water?” you asked.

“Yeah…” she said dreamily. “Like near the boats. Where the ducks were last time.”

You smiled. “You mean the pier?”

She nodded.

Max glanced in the rearview mirror. “Sure,” he said with a shrug, like it was the easiest thing in the world. “Dinner and a view. That’s what the birthday girl wants.”

You turned slightly in your seat. “We can grab your favorite—what do you say? Pasta?”

“With garlic bread,” she added firmly.

“Deal.”

A beat passed.

“Is Yuki coming to my party?” she asked, almost shyly.

You laughed softly, the tension fully melted now. “Of course he is. He wouldn’t miss it for the world. You’re basically his favorite little human.”

She grinned.

You could already picture it: Yuki showing up with a gift too big to carry properly, Roscoe and Leo dressed in tiny party bow ties, Jack sprinting around with a balloon sword, and Sofie at the center of it all—smiling, glowing, loved.

And right now, in this quiet little moment in the car, with Max’s hand resting on your knee and Sofie humming softly behind you, you realized something:

This was it. The life you built. The family you fought for. The love that Max held together so effortlessly—even when things felt like they might fall apart.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The golden morning sun poured through the large kitchen windows, casting a soft glow on the breakfast table where laughter mingled with the smell of pancakes and strawberries. The air carried that familiar excitement that only came once a year—Sofie’s birthday. She was officially five now. A whole hand. Your heart ached and swelled all at once. Where had the time gone?

You smoothed out your white embroidered maxi dress as you moved about the kitchen, the delicate eyelet hem brushing your ankles with every graceful step. The shirred bodice clung softly to your figure while the thin straps sat lightly on your sun-kissed shoulders. You looked down at Sofie—your little sunshine—who was happily munching on a strawberry, her cream cherry-print jumpsuit just as sweet as she was. Her long blonde hair was still a bit tousled from sleep, but her eyes sparkled with anticipation.

Max leaned casually against the counter, dressed in a ribbed beige knit shirt that hugged his frame just right, paired with light tan trousers and his usual quiet confidence. His watch caught the light as he reached for his coffee, his eyes settling on Sofie with a gentle smile.

The kitchen was buzzing with quiet chatter. Kimi, Ollie, Isack, and Liam had joined the breakfast table, each of them clearly still waking up but making the effort. “I’m thankful you all came all the way from England to Monaco for this,” you said, your tone genuine.

Liam waved you off with a smile. “It’s nothing. I wasn’t going to miss her birthday for the world.”

Max nodded in agreement. “Now that you’re all here, it really means a lot.”

Kimi carefully sliced a strawberry and placed it on Sofie’s plate. “So the party’s at the karting track?” he asked, looking to you and Max for confirmation.

Max chuckled, nodding. “Her pick. She’s officially done with princess parties.”

“She still likes pink, but she’s moved past princess wonderland,” you added with a fond grin, watching as Ollie made goofy faces at Sofie. She giggled, her little shoulders bouncing, the cherry print on her jumpsuit dancing along.

Max shook his head, amused. “Of course those two are having a competition before 10 a.m.”

There was something magical about that moment. The world felt still and warm, full of light and laughter. Sofie’s excitement was bubbling over, yet grounded by the comfort of having everyone she loved under one roof.

Your phone buzzed, and you excused yourself from the table, stepping just outside the kitchen into the sun-drenched hallway. “Hello?” you answered.

“Bonjour, we have the cake here, the party is all set!” Charles' voice rang with energy. “And believe it or not, some little guests are already here, waiting on the birthday girl. But don’t worry—I haven’t let them touch a thing. Now hurry up and get my niece here!”

You laughed. “I’m bringing her, Leclerc. Don’t get bossy. She has Verstappen blood running in her veins.”

Charles laughed back. “As long as she’s living in Monaco, she’s a Leclerc. Now bring her!”

You shook your head, smiling, and hung up. Stepping back into the kitchen, you clapped your hands to gather everyone's attention. “Alright! Finish up your breakfasts, we’ve got a party to attend.”

Everyone began to rise, but you raised a hand. “Hold on—sunscreen. All of you. It’s bright out today, and I want Sofie, Kimi, Ollie, Isack, and Liam protected.”

Max raised a brow, amused. “They can do it themselves.”

You arched a brow right back. “You’re putting sunscreen on too. I don’t care if you think you're invincible.”

He smirked, grabbing the bottle off the counter. “Yes, ma’am.”

They had gotten sunscreen on just the way you’d instructed—foreheads, cheeks, even behind the ears. You had given each of them a motherly once-over, especially Sofie, ensuring her delicate skin was fully protected from the summer Monaco sun.

Sofie was already bubbling with excitement, bouncing slightly on her toes until Isack crouched in front of her with a grin. “Hop on, birthday girl.” She squealed, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his waist, her laughter ringing out like windchimes in the breeze. Her curls spilled over his shoulder as he stood up, carrying her out the front door like the most precious cargo.

The others followed behind them—Ollie carrying his water bottle and party hat, Liam holding two gift bags, and Max trailing steadily behind them all with the black duffel slung over his shoulder. The bag held Sofie’s custom racing suit, one she had insisted on wearing for her "big girl kart race." Max’s steps were slow, steady, his eyes lingering on his daughter—radiant, joyful, entirely in her element.

You followed last, gently closing the front door behind you and twisting the key until the lock clicked. The moment you turned, Max was waiting, already a few paces ahead. You jogged a little to catch up, your dress swaying around your ankles, the embroidery catching the sunlight in soft reflections.

“You know,” you said, nudging Max gently with your shoulder as the two of you walked in unhurried step behind the rest, “Charles said she already has friends there. Like, real friends.”

Max didn’t respond right away, but you saw the tension drop from his shoulders like a weight shrugged off. His jaw softened, and he looked ahead where Sofie sat proudly on Isack’s back, talking animatedly with Ollie.

“That’s good,” he finally said, voice low and thoughtful.

You could hear the silent hope underneath that one word. Good. That she wouldn’t feel like some odd little girl being pitied by the children of her father’s fame. That maybe, just maybe, she was making connections of her own. That today’s party might be more than just a grand gesture—it might be the start of something more permanent, more normal. Friends who stuck around because they liked her, not because of who her dad was. Max didn’t say all that, but he didn’t have to. You felt it.

Up ahead, Kimi veered off to his own car. He gave Max a quick thumbs-up. “Picking up Maggie and Eli, see you at the track,” he called.

Liam did the same, calling out that he and his girlfriend would follow shortly behind.

You and Max moved toward your car as Ollie opened the backseat door, holding it open for Sofie as Isack gently lowered her in. Her little fingers fidgeted with the seatbelt, and Ollie helped her click it into place, all while she chattered away about the “super secret handshake” she and some girl named Lila had made at school.

Isack laughed and nodded along, and soon he and Ollie were caught up in a very serious discussion with Sofie about which kart color was the fastest. The backseat became its own little world of theories and giggles, a bubble of youthful imagination.

You slid into the passenger seat, smoothing your dress beneath you as Max got in and started the car. He glanced at you, eyes crinkling with something soft and unreadable—comfort, maybe, or gratitude, or the peace that came from knowing she was happy.

You rested your elbow on the door, turning your head slightly to watch him as he drove. The road to the track wound through the city in smooth curves, palm trees casting shadows on white stone and flashes of the marina glittering like a promise.

The day had only just begun, but already, it felt perfect.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Toto had come through brilliantly. The track venue was booked out entirely for Sofie’s birthday, giving the kids space to race in short karting rounds while a roped-off, grassy courtyard near the paddock had been turned into party central.

The party was alive with laughter, bright colors, and the unfiltered joy that only a child's birthday could bring. The yard was transformed into a wonderland of streamers and balloons, bubbles dancing through the air, floating like tiny glistening orbs in the warm sunlight. Music spilled from the speakers, a playful soundtrack to the chaos that unfolded across the lawn.

The water guns, of course, hadn’t remained in the hands of just the little ones for long. Kimi had started it—grabbing one of the bigger water blasters with a mischievous smirk—before Isack, Liam, and Ollie joined in, practically reliving their own childhoods. Franco and Yuki weren’t far behind either. Soon it was a full-on battle between the “older kids,” the laughter from their side of the yard mixing in seamlessly with the younger ones.

You stood beside Max under the shaded canopy, sipping a glass of lemonade as the chaos unfolded in front of you. His arm brushed against yours, and though neither of you spoke right away, there was something comforting about the shared silence. Just watching.

Leo ran in gleeful circles with the kids, his small golden tail wagging wildly, letting the children hug him between runs. Meanwhile, Roscoe lay peacefully on a soft blanket in the corner of the yard, basking in the shade and soaking up all the love and gentle pets he was receiving. He only opened one eye every so often, as if supervising the activity like an old man watching his grandkids play.

“I didn’t expect her whole class to show,” you murmured, eyebrows raised in disbelief as you counted more and more familiar faces from Sofie’s school. “What did you do?”

Max shrugged with a feigned innocence that you didn’t believe for a second. “Put a little fear into the teachers,” he said casually, smirking. “And the baker. That’s how her cake got done in record time.”

You smacked his arm with a laugh, earning a grin from him. “You didn’t.”

“I did,” he said, not ashamed in the slightest. “She deserved it.”

Nearby, Lando was staring at Sofie, clearly moved. “She’s gotten so big. Goodness, I remember holding her when she was still wrapped up in that yellow baby blanket.”

Oscar raised a brow. “Are you crying?”

“What? No!” Lando huffed, wiping under his eyes a little too quickly.

Everyone chuckled, including Fernando, who sighed dramatically. “I feel too old being here.”

You pointed at him with your drink. “You were just running around with a water gun two minutes ago.”

He shrugged, unbothered. “True. But my back’s gonna feel it tomorrow.”

As the sun dipped lower, the golden hour wrapped the yard in a warm glow. Everyone gathered around for food—sandwiches, pasta salad, pizza, grilled veggies, tiny sliders. Sofie, with her plate full, sneakily dropped little bites of chicken and fries near Roscoe and Leo.

Charles caught her in the act but only chuckled. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t see that.”

“Me too,” Lewis added with a shrug. “She is the birthday girl after all.”

After the food, it was time for the cake, it stole the show, the attention of those gathered, but it was beautiful, and you were thankful Max managed to get it on time.

Everyone gathered around, singing loud and out of tune, clapping and cheering as Max carefully removed the candle for her.

She took a deep breath and blew out the flame, her eyes sparkling as you clapped and kissed the top of her head. You cut the cake into slices as fast as you could, Daniel ruffling Sofie’s hair as he handed out plates. “Happy birthday, munchkin.”

She giggled, holding her plate with both hands, eyes wide at the sweet treat.

The cake was a hit, no one would be able to forget about it and you were glad to see the smile upon Sofie's face as she sat on Max's lap, eating away at her cake slice.

Adults and kids alike devoured their slices. Afterward came dancing, bracelet making with Oscar and Lily, and even makeup and nails with Eli under the craft tent. Sofie got a glitter heart on her cheek and her nails painted sparkly purple.

Then came the moment of chaos: gift opening.

Alex stepped forward, dramatically holding up her phone to record. “Our gift first, please!”

Sofie tore through the pink wrapping with careful excitement, revealing a soft white jewelry box. Inside was a delicate gold necklace with a heart-shaped diamond pendant. She gasped, her fingers trembling as she touched it.

Your eyes widened. “A necklace? Charles, Alex... it’s beautiful.”

Max let out a low whistle. “That looks real…”

“It is,” Charles confirmed with a proud grin.

Max's jaw dropped slightly. “She’s five! She doesn’t need a real diamond necklace!”

“She’s a princess,” Alex teased. “Princesses wear diamonds.”

Oscar and Lily's gift came next, and it had Sofie hugging the box before she even opened it. Inside was a beaded bracelet with a tiny photo charm—it showed her grinning between Lily and Oscar at the kart track.

“A bracelet?! Mama! Papa! Look! It’s me and Lily and Oscar!” she exclaimed, showing you both.

Max laughed and leaned over. “You two are spoiling her so much, I’m afraid I’ll be buying her necklaces and bracelets worth half my salary by next year.”

Oscar clapped him on the back. “Welcome to parenthood.”

When Yuki’s gift came, Sofie squealed louder than before. It was her very own custom Red Bull race suit, complete with patches and her name embroidered on the chest.

“Now I’m like Papa!” she said proudly, twirling in it.

You clasped your hands together. “You look beautiful, baby.”

She ran over and hugged Yuki’s leg tightly. “Thank you!”

“You can race for us now!” he joked, beaming.

Lewis gifted her a pinky ring, small and elegant, with a tiny pink gemstone. You had reservations about it—another real piece of jewelry?—but the way Sofie’s eyes sparkled as she slipped it on melted your concern.

Kimi and Eli gifted her a child-safe makeup set, which nearly made Max groan audibly. Still, he bit his tongue and gave a tight smile as Sofie squealed in delight, already planning to give him a “makeover.”

Isack, Ollie, and Liam came through with plushies—an entire family of them. Unicorns, kittens, a racing-themed bear. You immediately knew you’d be picking them up off the floor for the next six months, but it was worth it to see her grin.

More gifts poured in: F1 merch, books, puzzles, glittery clothes, light-up shoes. She was spoiled, there was no denying it—but she was also so deeply loved. And as you watched her eyes shine with each new surprise, her cheeks sore from smiling, her voice getting hoarse from all the excitement, you realized that Max was right earlier.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The time had come — the part Sofie had been anticipating all day.

The sun had dipped just low enough to cast long golden shadows across the track, a soft breeze sweeping through the area as the children gathered at the starting line. The smell of rubber, faint gasoline, and birthday cupcakes still lingered in the air, blending oddly well with the thrill of what was about to unfold. Helmets were secured, tiny gloves pulled tight, and nerves buzzed just under the surface — not just from the kids, but the adults too.

You stood on the sidelines beside Susie, arms crossed gently over your chest, your heart thudding in rhythm with the distant hum of engines. Max was pacing lightly a few feet ahead, hands cupped around his mouth, shouting across the track.

“Go, Sofie! Full throttle! Brake late!” he bellowed proudly.

You nudged Susie with your elbow, shaking your head with a smile. “Think he might out-cheer Toto.”

She laughed, brushing her hair out of her face as a gust of wind picked up. “Possibly so. But I’m pretty sure Toto never did cartwheels after a heat win.”

You both watched as the kids took off — the little karts buzzing, weaving clumsily yet determinedly around the first corner. Sofie was near the front, her pink helmet gleaming under the floodlights now starting to flicker on around the track. She gripped the wheel with a seriousness far beyond her years, eyes focused, lips pursed in pure concentration.

Everyone was recording — phones up, laughter echoing, cheers rising. And in that moment, the world slowed. Nothing mattered except the look on her face, the joy, the pure bliss of being alive, celebrated, and fully seen.

When she took the final corner wide and pushed ahead to cross the line first, Max erupted in loud claps, pumping his fist in the air as if she’d just won the Monaco Grand Prix.

“That’s my girl!” he shouted, beaming.

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. The handmade trophies you and Max had ordered sparkled on a nearby table, waiting — not as symbols of competition, but as reminders of effort and joy. You had both agreed early on: this day wasn’t about placing first. But watching Sofie throw her arms up in victory — it was clear she had her father’s fire. And Max? Well, he looked like he’d just won father of the year.

The kids were ushered into a loose line for photos. Pictures, hugs, and videos followed, tiny hands gripping their miniature trophies while smiles stretched across frosting-stained faces. Sofie held hers like it was gold.

As twilight deepened and the air cooled, the buzz began to mellow. Guests started gathering their things, parents thanked you for the invitation and complimented the party. Kids gave Sofie tight hugs, one by one, and you could see how it warmed her. She wasn’t just loved by family — she had friends. Real friends. Watching her bounce from child to child, exchanging giggles and promises of playdates, made something swell in your chest.

You caught a glance at Max, who had gone quiet beside you, his eyes misty. He blinked quickly and coughed. “She’s growing up,” he said softly, not quite to you, not quite to himself. “Too fast.”

You placed your hand on his arm. “I know.”

As the final few families drifted out into the night, the stars now beginning to peek overhead, Lando stepped forward, holding a box tucked under his arm. He crouched down to Sofie’s level, his smile soft. “For you, kiddo.”

You stilled, heart tugging, already knowing what it was. You watched as Sofie’s eyes went wide, her little hands tearing through the wrapping with excitement bubbling over.

The moment she uncovered it — a custom black-and-pink helmet, her size, with a glimmering finish — she gasped.

Her hands trembled slightly as she turned it in her lap, then looked up. “It’s like yours... but for me!”

It was true. She’d always been obsessed with his helmet design — not because of branding or sponsorships, but simply because to her, it looked like something out of a dream. You could see her trying to hold back the tears that came anyway.

She launched forward, wrapping her arms around Lando tightly. He chuckled as he hugged her back.

“I’m glad you like it,” he said into her hair.

“She loves it,” you whispered, placing a hand over your chest.

Max smiled, watching the two of them. It was more than just a helmet. It was a memory — a gift she’d never forget.

Lando stood, ruffled her hair, and with one last “Happy Birthday” and a warm smile your way, he headed toward his car, disappearing into the night.

You and Max lingered in the quiet afterglow. The lights around the track were being turned off one by one, the venue slowly emptying. Sofie held her helmet tight, nearly dozing off as she clung to her final gift of the night.

There was nothing left to do now — no more cupcakes to serve, no more goodie bags to pass out. It had been everything you hoped for. Maybe more.

Later, the soft hum of cartoons filled the Verstappen living room, the glow of the TV flickering gently across the walls. You sat curled on the couch, Sofie curled up against your side, her head on your chest. She had fallen asleep almost instantly once the adrenaline wore off, helmet tucked nearby like a teddy bear.

Her trophy was carefully placed in a case by Max in silent joy before deciding to check up on you two.

You didn’t realize you’d fallen asleep, too, until Max came in, stepping quietly around the couch. He paused, smiling at the two of you.

He reached down, pulling a soft throw blanket from the armrest and draped it over your legs and shoulders. He leaned in, kissing Sofie’s temple first, then yours.

Today had been good. Better than good. It had been magic.

He crouched a little, careful not to wake you, and held up his hand. Slowly, he gave your limp, sleeping hand a quiet high five, chuckling to himself.

“We really did it,” he whispered, voice low. “I did it. And I’ll make sure every birthday for her turns out just as well. Always.”

He stood for a moment, just watching you both — his whole world curled together on that couch — and let himself breathe.

Because this? This was what everything was for.

[makis-eyebrows]

Hidden Treasure

Charles shows much of his life on social media and so on. But what happens when fans find out that for the past four years, he's been a father?

For Charles Leclerc, Monaco Was Home — and Home Meant Family.

But not the family the public knew about.

Very few people knew that Charles had a daughter, a bright-eyed, sweet-spirited little girl named Y/n, who was now four years old.

His teammates knew. Some of the paddock knew.

But beyond that?

It was one of the best-kept secrets in Formula 1.

And that’s exactly how Charles wanted it.

He had promised himself — and Y/n’s mom — Alexandra — their daughter would grow up normal. No flashing cameras in her face. No strangers yelling her name. No pressure, no judgment, no world constantly watching her every move like they did with him.

To the public, Charles was just a young driver, dating a beautiful girl, chasing world championships.

The truth was much deeper, much more precious.

Until One Afternoon in Monaco.

It was supposed to be a normal Sunday.

A walk along the harbor. Ice cream. Laughing at the ducks.

Charles carried Y/n on his shoulders, her tiny hands curled tightly into his hair. Alexandra strolled beside them, laughing at something silly Y/n had said.

But somewhere in the busy Monaco streets, a fan with a sharp eye and a quicker phone caught them.

One photo.

Posted online.

"Is that a kid?? Charles has a DAUGHTER??"

Within hours, it spread like wildfire across Twitter, Instagram, Reddit — everywhere.

Speculation. Theories. Wild guesses about her name, her age, her mother.

Some were kind.

Some were not.

Charles only found out because Pierre Gasly texted him a screenshot.

Pierre:

Mate… you might wanna check Twitter. Like, NOW.

Charles’s heart dropped. He immediately checked — and sure enough, his worst fear was unfolding.

Fans were digging. Some were trying to find Y/n’s school. Others were asking about his girlfriend.

It was spiraling — fast.

The Next Day, Charles Took Control.

He sat in front of his phone, started a livestream, and spoke calmly, but firmly:

"Bonjour, everyone... I normally don’t address things like this, but today I have to."

"Yes, the little girl in the photo is my daughter, Y/n."

"I made the choice to keep her private because... she deserves a childhood without cameras in her face, without strangers knowing her every move. She is the most important thing in my life — but she is not a public figure. She’s a child. My child."

He paused, emotion flickering behind his eyes.

"I’m asking — no, I'm begging — for her privacy to be respected. Please. She's innocent in all this."

"I share my racing, my career, even a part of my personal life with you all. But Y/n deserves a world that is safe and small, where she can grow up making mistakes, playing in the park, going to school, without being watched."

"Thank you to those who have supported me quietly all these years. Thank you for understanding."

He ended it there — no drama, no room for debate.

Just a father protecting his daughter.

In the Background

Drivers sent their support privately:

Lewis Hamilton:

Proud of you, man. Protect her at all costs.

Carlos Sainz:

Always here for you. She’s lucky to have you.

Sebastian Vettel (even though he had retired):

Family first, always. You're doing the right thing, Charles.

George Russell:

Well said. She doesn’t need a world full of cameras, just a dad who loves her. And she has that.

Meanwhile, at Home

Y/n didn’t understand the full situation.

All she knew was that Papa was a little sad today.

She padded into the living room in her tiny socks, clutching her favorite stuffed bunny.

“Papa?” she said quietly. “Why are you sad?”

Charles smiled softly, kneeling down to her level.

“Because I love you so much, mon amour. And sometimes... the world is a little noisy.”

Y/n tilted her head in that curious way she always did.

“Do we need to wear earmuffs?” she asked seriously.

Charles laughed — real, full, heart-mending laughter — and scooped her into his arms.

“Maybe we do,” he whispered into her hair.

“But no matter how noisy the world gets, I'll always be right here.”

Because to Charles Leclerc, there was no trophy, no pole position, no crowd that mattered more... than his little girl.

I just wanted to post this cuz why not? It's cute though.

I was really thinking of making my first story a series but I'm not really sure as yet so... I don't know. Ideas?

Also, I want to start doing so F1 SMAUs and it doesn't even have to be one of the drivers being a father. They can be a partner, brother, you name it. So you can request if you want, their always open :)

That's Gang Gang out!!!!♡

[bruciemilf]

Goddd give me Thomas, Martha and Alfred who were completely obsessed with baby Bruce. Martha who’s quiet but solemn affection.

Hand holding, polishing his messy cheeks after he stole dessert from the kitchen, words of affirmation, teaching him how to build confidence brick by brick. “No one is made to be insignificant.”

Thomas who’s bright and loud and bigger than big, who’s just pride embodied. Showing Bruce off at every opportunity. His love is savage by nature.

Squishing Bruce’s face and throwing him around and aggressively kissing him all over his face. Maybe biting into the chub of his cheeks a little. Bruce is like his extra limb.

And Alfred? From the second Bruce took his first breath, he knew. He knew Gotham would drown him in shadow because the little pearl was just too perfect. But he’ll be there.

He was the knight first.

[hamilton-here]

just want to say you write amazingly! ive been waiting for new lh one shots everyday from u and now i badly want a series 🥹 lol anw can i request a lewis x reader where reader is pregnant and how lewis is holding up with her cravings, morning sickness and how he reacts while reader is on labor and then giving birth i just think he'll be super sweet and helpful but also nervous and about to cry hahaha thank you!!

𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒢𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝐹𝒾𝓃𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝐿𝒾𝓃𝑒

Authors Note: Hi lovies! I absolutely loved this request, it’s such a cute theme of Lewis as a father. I hope you enjoy. Also, Lewis P4 in Imola! I’m so happy! Lots of love xx

Summary: As Lewis Hamilton races into his Ferrari debut, you're going into labor. He makes it just in time not for a podium, but for the moment that changes everything: the birth of your daughter.

Warnings: none

Taglist: @nebulastarr @hannibeeblog @cosmichughes

MASTERLIST

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

The First Time It Happened – June 2024

The first time it happened the nausea that snuck up on you in the middle of your morning coffee you chalked it up to a bad batch of milk. The second time, it was after sushi with a friend, and you’d blamed the spicy tuna. But by the third wave of queasiness, the kind that didn’t stop after ginger tea or dry toast, you felt something shift in your chest. A suspicion, quiet and undeniable.

Still, you’d waited. Waited until Lewis left for the Monaco debriefs. Waited until you were absolutely sure you weren’t imagining it.

And now here you were. Sitting on the cool bathroom floor, knees pulled to your chest, staring at the stick in your hand like it might change its mind if you looked away for long enough.

Two lines.

Clear as day.

Pregnant.

You didn’t cry at first. The silence was too big for that too full. You just sat there, your back against the tub, one hand drifting to your still-flat stomach as if to ask, Are you really in there? Your heartbeat so fast it felt like it might echo against the tile. And then, slowly, the weight of it all settled over you.

This was real.

A life. A future.

Your baby.

That evening just after 8pm…

The front door clicked open before you even heard the key. You were still in leggings and a hoodie, pacing the living room with your phone in hand, wondering if blurting it out was too dramatic or if you should try to wrap the test in a tiny box or maybe make one of those Pinterest-style reveal dinners with baby carrots and baby corn and -

“I’m telling you; the long-run pace is better than it looks on paper,” Lewis’s voice floated in from the hallway, suitcase wheels scuffing lightly against the entryway tiles. “But they’re worried about degradation in the heat. George thinks—”

He stopped in the doorway to the living room, still mid-sentence, still gripping the handle of his suitcase.

You were standing frozen in the middle of the room, hands behind your back, eyes too wide to play it cool.

“Hey, babe,” he said, confused but smiling. “You, okay?”

You didn’t even try to ease into it. You couldn’t. The words pushed up your throat too fast, too breathless.

“I’m pregnant.”

He froze.

Like, actually froze. His mouth opened slightly, but no words came out. He hung up the phone call immediately. One hand hovered in midair like his brain couldn’t catch up to his body. He blinked once. Twice.

“You’re…” he said softly. “Wait. Are you serious?”

You nodded and held out the test from behind your back. Your hand trembled just enough for him to see how real this was for you. His eyes dropped to it, and when he saw the two pink lines, a visible breath escaped him.

He crossed the room in three long strides.

And then his hands were everywhere cradling your face, then cupping the back of your neck, then sliding down to your waist like he needed to touch you in as many places as possible to believe it.

“Wait hold on.” He laughed, a little breathless, a little choked up. “I’m gonna be a dad?”

You nodded again, and this time the tears came. Not just yours his too. He kissed you once, twice, then pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours.

“You’re really having my baby,” he whispered, awe in every syllable.

You let out a soft laugh through your tears. “Yeah. We’re really doing this.”

Then his hands slipped down, warm and reverent, to rest on your lower belly the place where everything was just beginning.

“Hi,” he whispered, barely audible. “I’m your dad.”

And somehow, that’s when it hit you more than the test, more than the nausea, more than the doctor’s voice in your head. That simple sentence.

I’m your dad.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and melted into him, your tears landing silently against his shirt. You stood there in the hallway, swaying like you were dancing without music, like time had slowed just for the two of you and the little heartbeat just beginning to flutter between you.

The world had cracked open.

And inside it was the future unexpected, wild, terrifying, and already so full of love. ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

Two Weeks After the Positive Test: London

The London sky was overcast, thick with that soft grey hue that always made the city seem quieter somehow, like it was holding its breath. The car ride was mostly silent, save for the low hum of traffic and the occasional rustle of Lewis’s jacket sleeve against the steering wheel. His hand kept drifting to your thigh absent-mindedly at first, then intentionally, fingers curling just slightly into the fabric of your jeans like he needed the touch to stay grounded.

You watched him from the passenger seat, his jaw tight with thought. Not worried, not exactly. But focused. He hadn’t spoken much since leaving the flat, but you could read him well by now. He wasn’t nervous about telling his parents. He just wanted it to be perfect.

“Still think we should’ve just called?” you asked softly, brushing your thumb against the back of his hand.

He shook his head immediately. “No. They deserve to see our faces.” A small pause. “And I want to see theirs.”

You smiled, that warm, private kind that came from feeling seen and loved. “Okay. Then let’s do this.”

11:37am the two of you had brunch with Carmen.

Carmen chose the café, of course a charming spot tucked away in Notting Hill with exposed brick walls, hanging plants, and old jazz humming through the speakers. She sat at a sunlit table by the window, looking effortlessly elegant in a cream blouse and high-waisted trousers, her scarf knotted delicately at her throat. Her sunglasses rested on the table beside her espresso cup, and a copy of The Times lay folded neatly in her lap.

When she spotted Lewis through the window, she stood with a graceful kind of urgency, smoothing her scarf as she came to greet him with a tight, lingering hug. “There’s my darling boy,” she said, kissing his cheek. “And you,” she turned to you with a radiant smile, “looking absolutely beautiful.”

You blushed, and she led you both to sit, immediately flagging down a server for fresh tea and pastries.

Conversation flowed easily at first. Carmen was animated as ever telling stories about her garden, teasing Lewis about his ever-changing schedule, asking about your studies and upcoming work commitments. Her laughter came easy, but you noticed the way her eyes flicked between the two of you, sensing something beneath the surface.

When the server brought a second pot of tea and the plates had mostly cleared, Lewis leaned forward and gently touched her hand.

“Mum, there’s actually something we wanted to tell you. Something important.”

Carmen’s entire posture shifted. She blinked slowly, then set her cup down with quiet precision. Her gaze moved from Lewis to you, searching your face.

You reached for his hand under the table. Steadied by him, you smiled softly. “We’re having a baby.”

For a long moment, she said nothing. Her eyes widened not with shock, but reverence and her lips parted in a silent breath.

“A baby?” Her voice cracked slightly, as if her heart had leapt into her throat.

Lewis’s smile was tender. “You’re going to be a grandmother.”

And just like that, her composure melted. She covered her mouth with both hands as tears brimmed in her eyes. Then she stood abruptly and pulled Lewis into a hug, holding him like she never wanted to let go.

“My baby’s having a baby,” she whispered.

You stood too, and she turned to you, wrapping you in her arms, warm and trembling. “You’ve just made me the happiest woman,” she murmured. “This child oh, they’re going to be so loved.”

She held you both, her emotions flowing freely now joy, disbelief, gratitude all tangled together.

“I always knew you’d be a wonderful father,” she whispered to Lewis as she cupped his cheek. “And you,” she turned to you with a teary smile, “are already the most beautiful mother.”

1:09pm you soon went to a Café in Richmond.

The café near Richmond Park had a rustic charm with wood-panelled walls, ivy creeping up the sides of the windows, the scent of roasted beans and warm bread drifting through the air. You spotted Anthony and Linda on the terrace, seated at a corner table with a view of the park’s early spring bloom. Anthony wore a navy jumper over a collared shirt, reading glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. Linda looked effortlessly chic in a trench coat, sunglasses pushed up into her hair.

“There they are,” Anthony called, standing to greet you both with open arms. He pulled Lewis into a solid hug, then did the same to you. “How was the flight? You look good.”

“Just back from Monaco,” Lewis said, brushing off his jacket as he sat. “Didn’t bring home a trophy, though.”

Anthony chuckled. “Still time this season.”

Linda poured you both coffee from the carafe on the table, her smile warm and curious. “So, what brings you two here mid-season? Not that we’re complaining.”

Lewis met your gaze, giving a little nod, and this time, he took the lead.

“We’re pregnant,” he said, voice low but full. “We’re having a baby.”

There was a beat of silence just one heartbeat long before Linda gasped and reached for your hand across the table. “No way.”

You nodded, your smile widening.

Anthony sat back, stunned. “You’re serious?” His eyes scanned Lewis’s face, then yours, as if waiting for the punchline. But there wasn’t one.

“I’m gonna be a granddad?” he said finally, voice cracking just enough to betray his emotion. “You two this is incredible.”

He stood again, this time to pull Lewis into another hug firmer, tighter.

“I’m proud of you, son,” he murmured. “So proud.”

Then he turned to you and wrapped his arms around you with fatherly warmth. “You’ve made this family even richer,” he said quietly. “You’ve given us something to look forward to.”

Linda dabbed her eyes discreetly with a napkin before smiling through tears. “We need to plan a little celebration. Or a lot of them.”

Later that afternoon in London -

By the time the day was done, and you and Lewis had shed your jackets and kicked off your shoes, the flat felt different. Warmer somehow. Fuller.

You curled up with him on the sofa, limbs tangled, and blankets draped over your legs. The evening news murmured softly in the background, forgotten.

“Well,” Lewis said after a long stretch of quiet, pressing a kiss to your temple, “now it’s real.”

You leaned into his chest, resting your cheek against his heartbeat. “It’s been real.”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice a whisper now. His hand drifted over your stomach gentle, reverent. “But now it feels like the whole world knows we’re about to love someone brand new.”

You closed your eyes, a slow smile blooming. “And they already love us back.”

Lewis kissed your forehead, and the two of you sat there in the soft hush of your London home not racers or headlines or fame. Just two people, in love, waiting for the biggest adventure of your lives to begin. ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

First Trimester:

Lewis learned quickly.

He learned that your sense of smell had evolved into something beyond human a superpower, if one only used for war. The scent of his favourite cologne, the one he’d worn religiously for years (Maison Francis Kurkdjian’s Gentle Fluidity), was suddenly on your personal hit list.

He’d sprayed it on without thinking one morning, humming to himself as he got dressed in the ensuite. The moment he walked into the bedroom, you gagged audibly and covered your face with the sleeve of his hoodie.

“Seriously?” he asked, freezing mid-step. “Even this one? This is the softest one I have.”

You didn’t say a word. Just pointed dramatically at the trash bin near the vanity, where the nearly full bottle now lay. Still gleaming in the morning light. A silent casualty.

Lewis stared at it like he’d just lost a championship by one point. But then he sighed, nodded solemnly, and backed away like a suspect being dismissed from the scene of a crime. “Noted.”

He went straight to the shower and scrubbed every trace of fragrance off with fragrance-free soap the same one he ordered in bulk now because even normal smells were dangerous territory.

He didn’t complain.

And that wasn’t the only thing he adjusted to.

He also learned that your cravings weren’t just cravings they were urgent, dramatic, full-body experiences. There was no logic to them, only instinct.

“I want sour cream and onion chips,” you said one night, curled up on the couch like a burrito in one of his oversized hoodies, your knees supported by a pillow and your face deadly serious.

Lewis blinked at the clock. 11:52 PM.

“Okay,” he said without hesitation, already standing and pulling on a pair of sweatpants over his boxers. “Give me twenty minutes.”

You nodded, but then your eyes narrowed. “Wait. I also want peanut butter.”

He paused mid-step and turned slowly. “With the chips?”

You blinked. “Maybe.”

To his credit, he didn’t laugh or question your sudden culinary imagination. He just gave you a little salute and disappeared out the door.

He returned twenty-five minutes later with a bag that had chips, peanut butter, pickles (just in case), and a tub of vanilla bean ice cream because he’d passed it and thought “better safe than sorry.” The moment you saw him walk in; you burst into tears.

Not because you were touched (you were, the ice cream was a sweet surprise), but because the bag had a different logo than usual and you were now absolutely convinced that the chips inside wouldn’t taste the same.

“They changed the packaging,” you sniffled, clinging to the bag like it had personally betrayed you. “That means they probably changed the flavour too.”

Lewis dropped to his knees in front of you, gently setting the snacks aside, and cupped your face in his hands.

“Baby,” he said softly, “I promise you even if they taste different, everything tastes better when you eat it with someone who loves you.”

That made you cry even harder.

He wiped your tears and opened the bag himself, taste-testing one chip like it was a wine pairing. “Still perfect,” he declared, feeding you one like a sommelier presenting the vintage of the year.

You kissed him for that.

But an hour later, you also made him sleep on the couch. Because, apparently, he breathed too loud.

You didn’t even explain. You just shoved a pillow at him and mumbled, “Can’t deal with your lungs tonight.”

He didn’t argue. Just kissed your forehead, told you he loved you, and padded down the hallway with the blanket, dragging it behind him like a sleepy child.

You found him curled up there the next morning, one foot hanging off the end of the couch, mouth slightly open, your half-eaten peanut butter spoon resting on the coffee table beside him.

And you loved him so much it made your chest ache. ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

Second Trimester:

You glowed.

Not in the glamorous, red-carpet way that people loved to rave about no, this was a softer, deeper kind of glow. A quiet radiance. Like your body had finally stopped fighting the nausea long enough to shine from the inside out. Your skin was clearer, your eyes brighter, and your energy had returned enough that you didn’t dread every step up the stairs or cry when you dropped your keys (well… not every time).

And then there was your belly.

It had popped just slightly, rounding into a gentle curve under your soft cotton t-shirts visible enough now that Lewis had made it a daily habit to talk to it. He never missed a moment. In the mornings when you were still half-asleep, he’d brush his thumb over the swell and mumble, “Morning, baby,” before kissing your stomach and then your forehead. And at night, curled up in bed behind you, his hand would automatically settle over your bump protective, warm, like his body knew even in sleep that you weren’t carrying this alone.

“Hey, little one,” he’d whisper softly, his lips brushing the back of your neck. “It’s your dad. Be nice to your mum tomorrow, yeah? She’s doing all the hard work.”

Sometimes the baby kicked when he spoke. Not big kicks just the tiniest flutters, like bubbles under the surface. And Lewis would freeze, eyes wide, grinning like he’d just won a race.

“You felt that, right?” he’d ask breathlessly, like the whole world had just changed in the blink of an eye.

You nodded every time, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, no matter how many times it happened. Because it was your world that had changed. And Lewis was somehow making the impossible feel gentle and sacred.

Of course, hormones were still a thing. And not always in the magical sense.

Like the morning you walked into the kitchen and caught him biting into the last chocolate croissant your chocolate croissant, the one you’d been daydreaming about since 3 a.m.

He froze mid-bite, half of the flaky pastry still in his mouth, eyes going wide like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Lewis,” you said, voice low and deadly.

His chewing slowed. “Babe…”

“I was saving that.”

“I didn’t know you wanted it,” he reasoned, hands raised in surrender. “You didn’t say anything.”

“I always want it. I’m literally growing your child, Lewis.”

There was a beat of silence as he absorbed your tone a dangerous mixture of heartbreak and impending wrath.

Then, slowly, carefully, he backed away from the countertop.

“I’m going to the bakery,” he said with military precision. “Do not move. Stay here. I’ll fix this.”

You didn’t respond. You just narrowed your eyes and crossed your arms over your belly like a tiny general defending the nation.

Twenty minutes later, you stood at the front door, arms still folded, watching as he returned in triumphant glory holding a paper bag like it was treasure from a quest. Not one, not two, but three chocolate croissants. And a strawberry tart. And a hot chocolate.

“I panicked and bought extras,” he said breathlessly. “And the tart looked nice. And I know your blood sugar dips after 4 p.m. so…”

You stared at him, your heart softening even as your hormones screamed that it wasn’t enough.

And then he added, “Also, I told the bakery owner you’re pregnant and she gave me two free muffins. I didn’t ask, she just said I looked scared.”

That broke you.

You forgave him instantly.

Later, curled up on the couch with a croissant in one hand and his hoodie wrapped around your body like a cocoon, you looked over at him with his hand back where it always went, resting gently on your stomach and whispered, “You’re going to be such a good dad.”

He smiled, turning to kiss the side of your head. “I learned from the best.”

“You mean me?”

“Exactly,” he teased, and you laughed until your belly ached.

And somewhere deep inside, the baby fluttered again like they already knew this was love, too. ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

You soon had a doctor appointment.

You’d told Lewis he didn’t have to come.

The team was deep into car development mode, simulator sessions were stacked into the early hours of the morning, and the season calendar was a maze of back-to-back races, sponsor events, and media appearances. It didn’t feel fair to ask more of him. Not when you could technically handle it alone go to the ultrasound appointment, FaceTime him during the scan, send pictures, try to describe the sound of your baby’s heartbeat in words.

You told him all this over the phone, trying to keep your voice even, rational. You didn’t want him to feel guilty.

But you should’ve known better.

Because when you arrived at the clinic the next morning, slightly nervous and still sipping on the lukewarm water they’d told you to drink before the scan, you didn’t expect to hear the soft creak of the waiting room door behind you or feel a familiar hand settle quietly on your shoulder.

You turned, heart leaping.

Lewis stood there in a grey hoodie, black joggers, sneakers he’d clearly thrown on in a hurry. His curls were still a little messy from sleep or maybe from a plane nap and he held a takeaway tea in one hand, your favourite order in the other. His eyes met yours, and that soft, crooked smile of the one reserved for you and you only tugged at the corner of his lips.

“You flew through the night,” you whispered, your voice already catching on the lump rising in your throat.

He reached for your hand, fingers slotting through yours like they belonged there like they always belonged there. “Would’ve flown through a hurricane if it meant being here,” he said simply, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You blinked fast, trying not to cry before the appointment even started. But you should’ve known better about that too your heart always ached in the best kind of way when Lewis did things like this. Quiet, selfless things. Like showing up when it would’ve been easier to stay away.

The sonographer appeared then, all warm smiles and gentle energy. “You two ready?”

You nodded, and Lewis gave your hand a soft squeeze as you followed her into the room.

The lights were dimmed. You lay back on the exam table, tugging up your shirt as the gel was applied to your belly cool and unfamiliar, but oddly comforting. Lewis stayed standing beside you, close but not crowding, his fingers laced with yours, his thumb brushing the back of your hand in slow, grounding strokes.

“Alright,” the sonographer murmured, her voice soothing, practiced. “Let’s take a look.”

The machine hummed quietly. The wand pressed to your stomach. And then the grainy, beautiful chaos of the screen shifted, and there she was.

Your baby.

Tiny limbs stretching. A strong, fluttering heartbeat. A wriggle, a kick.

Lewis made a sound a half-laugh, half-exhale like he’d just seen something miraculous. And maybe he had.

“Their so active,” the sonographer said with a smile. “Already got a little personality, this one.”

You and Lewis both let out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. Your eyes met, and it was like the world faded just the two of you, tethered to the little life between you.

“Now,” the sonographer continued gently. “Are we finding out the gender today?”

You turned your head to look at Lewis, unsure. You’d talked about waiting. About the magic of surprise. But in that moment, something about having him there about being together in this made you want to know. To name this connection. To put a little more shape to the love growing in your heart.

He caught your gaze and nodded slowly, eyes soft. “Only if, you’re sure.”

You gave a small smile. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”

There was a pause. A quiet kind of reverence as the sonographer adjusted the wand, studying the screen.

Then she smiled wide and certain.

“Well…looks like it’s a girl.”

Silence. A beat.

And then it landed.

Lewis let out a breathless laugh, the kind that came from deep in his chest, full of disbelief and wonder. His eyes widened as he looked at the screen, then at you and you saw them shine, glassy with emotion.

“A girl?” he whispered. “We’re having a girl?”

You nodded, the tears already sliding down your cheeks, your voice wobbly but sure. “She’s real. She’s ours.”

He leaned down and kissed you not rushed or dramatic. One hand pressed gently to your stomach like he was trying to memorise every curve, every contour of the life inside.

In that moment, the rest of the world stopped.

Later, as you sat in the parked car, the ultrasound photo between you, neither of you could stop staring. The little profile. The curve of her nose. The delicate fingers you could just barely make out.

Lewis tapped the photo lightly and whispered, “She’s gonna have your nose. I can feel it.”

You laughed through your tears. “If she gets your dimples, we’re in trouble.”

He smiled, still not looking away from the image. “She’s gonna have everything. The best parts of both of us.”

That night, you couldn’t sleep. Not because of discomfort, or hormones but because your mind was full of her. You lay awake, staring at the ceiling, imagining the shape of her laugh, the colour of her eyes, the way her tiny hand might one day wrap around your finger.

Beside you, Lewis stirred.

“You, okay?” he murmured, voice hoarse with sleep.

“Yeah,” you whispered, rolling over to face him. “Just thinking about her.”

He shifted closer, letting you tuck into his side. His hand found your belly, rubbing slow circles the way he always did when he thought you needed calming.

“You know what’s mad?” he said softly, voice barely a breath in the dark. “I already love her. Like so much. It doesn’t even make sense.”

You pressed your hand over his, both of you curled around the little life between you.

“She’s going to be the luckiest girl in the world,” you said.

He kissed your forehead, lips lingering like a promise.

“She already is,” he whispered. “She’s got you.” ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

Third Trimester: Three Months Before the Due Date – Nursery Day

The instructions said, “simple assembly.”

They lied.

Lewis sat cross-legged in the middle of what would soon be your daughter’s nursery, surrounded by cardboard boxes, crinkled instruction booklets, and what could only be described as a ridiculous number of screws some of which didn’t even seem to match in colour or size. The half-assembled crib beside him looked more like an abstract sculpture than a piece of functional furniture. A dowel stuck out awkwardly on one side like it was waving for help.

He was frowning like he was in deep negotiation with the wood, mumbling under his breath in a way that made you stifle a laugh. His Ferrari hoodie sleeves were shoved up to his elbows, curls tied up in a loose bun, and one of his socks was slightly falling off his heel. The definition of “man on a mission.”

“I swear this bolt was not in the diagram five minutes ago,” he muttered, holding a shiny, rogue-looking piece up to the light as if it might confess its purpose.

You leaned gently in the doorway, one hand resting on your bump, the other on your lower back for support. A knowing smile curled your lips as you watched him entirely focused, entirely determined.

“Want to admit defeat?” you asked, voice teasing.

“Never,” he replied instantly, not even looking up. “This baby will sleep in a crib built by my hands or not at all.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Or she’ll sleep in the bassinet we already bought. You know, the one that doesn’t come with a 46-step manual and requires a mechanical engineering degree?”

“That bassinet’s a backup. A temporary solution. This” - he gestured at the half-formed crib with a dramatic flourish - “is legacy craftsmanship. One day she’ll point at it and say, ‘Daddy built that for me.’”

You laughed, the sound warm and effortless as you stepped further into the room, walking slowly as your body adjusted to its latest centre of gravity shift something that changed by the hour these days. The baby was nestled low tonight, making every movement feel just a little heavier.

Lewis noticed immediately, abandoning the wrench in his hand as he stood up in one smooth motion, brushing off his palms. He was beside you in an instant, one hand hovering protectively behind your back, the other reaching to intertwine your fingers.

“I’m fine,” you said softly, squeezing his hand. “She’s just kicking a lot. Might be excited about her room.”

He looked down at your belly and smiled like he always did a look that was part awe, part love, and entirely him. “Tell her to hold off on the acrobatics until the crib’s stable.”

The nursery smelled faintly of fresh sage green paint and the lavender candle Lewis insisted made it feel “calming and baby-vibe.” The two of you had spent weeks choosing the perfect shade for the walls somewhere between earthy and soothing, a compromise between your love of clean neutrals and his insistence on “a bit of nature.” Now, bathed in soft afternoon light filtering through the gauzy curtains, the space felt like something sacred.

In one corner stood the rocking chair you’d bought together after Lewis tested nearly a dozen in-store, rocking in each one with exaggerated seriousness while you filmed him and tried not to cry-laugh. A mobile of little clouds and stars hung above it now, slowly turning with the breeze from the open window.

You lowered yourself into the chair with a soft sigh of relief, running your hand over the curve of your belly. She was moving more now big, rolling movements that you could see as well as feel. Lewis knelt back down beside the crib with renewed determination, glancing over his shoulder at you.

“I’m serious,” he said as he aligned two unfamiliar-looking panels. “This is my thing. You’ve been carrying her for months growing her, dealing with all the cravings, back pain, nausea, mood swings -”

You shot him a look. “Careful.”

He flashed you that crooked smile you loved so much. “Which I have completely loved every minute of. Even when you cried because your toast was too dry.”

“You burned it!” you protested, laughing despite yourself.

“It was in the toaster for ten seconds!”

“And it tasted like ash! I stand by it!”

He laughed, head thrown back, eyes crinkling in that way that made you melt. “Well, I’ve learned. Now I butter it before it even pops up.”

You shook your head, heart full as you watched him finally align the last two pieces. He tightened the final bolt with a triumphant click and stood slowly, stretching his arms overhead before wiping his hands on his joggers like he’d just rebuilt an engine.

“Ta-da,” he said, gesturing to the crib like it was the final masterpiece in a gallery.

And it was beautiful. Smooth, clean lines. Not a single wobble. No leftover pieces which felt like a miracle in and of itself. Tucked inside was the stuffed white bunny he’d bought you during a race weekend in Austria the one with the pink bow between its ears and the softest fur you’d ever felt.

“She’s gonna love it,” you said, voice quieter now.

He crossed the room and knelt in front of you, resting his hands on your belly as if it were the most natural thing in the world. His thumbs stroked over the taut skin gently, reverently.

“I still can’t believe she’s real,” he said, his voice soft and raw. “That we’re about to meet her. That this” he glanced around the nursery, “is all for her.”

You ran your fingers through his curls, brushing a strand behind his ear. “I know. Me neither. But she’s almost here.”

He pressed a kiss just beneath your belly button and whispered, “Your room’s ready, little one. And I promise, I’ll never stop making sure it feels like home.”

That night, after dinner when you were too tired to move and your back ached from the smallest shift Lewis helped you into bed, pulling the blankets over you with such care it made your throat ache.

Still, he stayed close always one hand nearby, always checking in.

When your legs got restless or your ribs burned from her stretching into them, he rubbed gentle circles into your lower back, murmuring softly about spa trips in the off-season and how he was already learning baby massage.

One night, around three a.m., the pain in your back was sharp enough to steal your breath. You lay curled on your side, silent tears slipping down your cheeks. You didn’t want to wake him, he had training in the morning, but Lewis stirred anyway, his sleep instincts already tuned to you.

He said nothing.

Just shifted behind you, wrapping an arm around your waist as he pressed soft kisses to your shoulder, and began massaging your spine with slow, steady pressure.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered into the dark. “Always.”

And eventually, wrapped in his arms, your body heavy and sore and loved, you drifted off to sleep again.

And Lewis didn’t move an inch. ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

Week 38 — Media Day 2025 Melbourne

He was scheduled to be at Albert Park for the Australian Grand Prix the first race of the season, his first race with Ferrari. Just media day, he said. Just a handful of interviews, a few press appearances. He’d be back at the hotel well before dinner, before the city lights flickered on and the night softened the day’s edges.

“You promise you won’t go into labor while I’m gone?” Lewis’s voice was low, almost a whisper as he crouched in front of you, his dark eyes locked onto your bump like it was the most precious thing he’d ever seen. His hands gently cupped the curve beneath your shirt as if he could shield your daughter with just the touch of his palms.

You raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow, folding a tiny onesie that looked like it belonged to a doll rather than a baby soon to be in your arms. “Promise me you won’t jinx it by asking again,” you teased, the hint of a smile playing at the corners of your lips.

He exhaled, part amusement, part panic. Then, as if your daughter could hear him, he pressed his forehead softly against your belly. “Stay in there, little one. Daddy’s going to bring you back something special from the paddock. A Ferrari keychain or maybe a hat something to mark your debut.”

You smiled, smoothing your hand over the swell of your belly. “She’s already got your timing. Fashionably late, just like you.”

“I swear she’s going to wait until I’m halfway through a press conference,” Lewis said, suddenly serious. His fingers brushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear, eyes searching yours. “Promise me you’ll call if anything happens. Even the smallest thing. A cramp, a sneeze, weird dreams. If your socks suddenly feel too tight.”

You laughed, shaking your head in disbelief. “Tight socks? Really?”

“Angela told me circulation changes can be a sign,” he said, sounding entirely too serious for the moment.

You gave him a pointed look, amusement dancing in your eyes. “Okay, I’ll call if my feet signal labor. Deal?”

“Deal.” He leaned in, kissing your belly, then your lips slow and tender, like a promise.

“I’ll be back before you even notice I left,” he murmured against your skin.

“You better not miss this,” you warned, voice soft but full of steel.

He tried to smile, but the tension around his eyes remained. His hand lingered on your face as if trying to memorise every detail. You kissed his palm, feeling the steady warmth of him there, before he finally stood.

With his bag slung over one shoulder, Lewis paused at the door. You watched from the window as the quiet streets of Melbourne stretched out, bathed in early sunlight and the soft hum of morning life waking up. One hand rested protectively over the life growing inside you.

“He’s going to lose his mind when it happens,” you whispered, voice low with certainty. “Like, full meltdown.”

The baby kicked twice.

“Exactly,” you said, a smile touching your lips. ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

Thursday – 10:07 AM, Hotel Suite, Melbourne

A persistent nudge pushed insistently against your ribcage a heel. A knee? You pressed your palm gently into the side of your belly.

“Okay, okay, calm down,” you murmured. “He’s calling soon, promise.”

Angela was leaning against the kitchenette counter, coffee in hand, her eyes flicking over the latest messages on her phone. “She’s feisty. Just like her dad.”

You smiled, shifting on the sofa as the soft hum of the TV played preseason highlights in the background. The buzz around Lewis’s Ferrari debut was impossible to ignore, but none of it mattered. Not today.

A dull ache lingered low in your back. You reached for your water bottle, the coolness soothing for a moment. Then the sharpness hit not a kick, not the usual stretching or fluttering, but a cramp. Low and fierce, curling you inward with a gasp.

You sat upright fast, breath hitching. Angela was immediately at your side.

“Okay…” you said, voice shaky. “Okay, okay…”

“Talk to me,” Angela urged, her tone steady as she put down her mug and took your hand.

“It’s I think—” You closed your eyes, willing it to be a false alarm, but the tightening came again, stronger this time.

Another contraction rolled through, and you didn’t hesitate. Your fingers scrambled for the supplies and made Angela contact Lewis.

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

Albert Park Circuit – Thursday, Media Day – 1:12 PM:

Lewis tugged the brim of his Ferrari cap lower, trying to hide the flicker of nerves in his eyes as cameras flashed relentlessly. Media day was a circus every journalist chasing a quote, every photographer waiting for a moment, every fan hungry for a glimpse. But his mind wasn’t here.

“Yes, it’s a fresh start with Ferrari,” he said, voice steady but his heart pounding beneath the calm facade.

“No, we’re not putting pressure on ourselves yet.”

“Yes, the car feels good, but the season is long.”

All the while, his phone vibrated quietly against his thigh. Angela had promised she’d text if anything happened. Each buzz sent his pulse racing.

Free stood just outside the press tent, nodding respectfully as Lewis wrapped up an interview. Then a voice called out from the crowd:

“Lewis baby’s due any day now, right? How are you staying so calm?”

Polite laughter rippled through the gathered media.

Lewis forced a smile, but his hands clenched briefly. “I’m not sure I am calm. I think I’ve just been pretending really well.”

More laughter.

He looked down at his phone, then back up with something softer shining in his gaze.

“Honestly, I keep thinking every buzz in my pocket is the call. I’d leave the track mid-lap if I had to.”

The room chuckled, but he was serious. Every word was truth.

“We’ve waited a long time for this,” he added quietly. “I want to be there. I want to hold her the second she arrives. I want to hold them both.”

Then as if the universe was listening his phone buzzed again.

Angela’s name lit up the screen.

One message.

It’s starting. Get back. Now.

Below it, a photo your hand resting on your belly, your engagement ring glinting softly in the hotel light. Calm. Brave. Real.

Lewis was on his feet before the words were fully processed.

“I have to go,” he said, voice sharp and final.

No PR filters. No waiting for Marc or security. No second thoughts.

He was already gone. ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

1:45 PM – Private Hospital, Melbourne:

“She’s moving fast,” the nurse said gently, her voice calm but filled with admiration as she watched your face contort through another contraction, a wave of fire rolling through your body that stole your breath. The sterile hospital room was bright but somehow softened by the soft hum of machines and the quiet footsteps in the hallway. “We’re almost ready, love. You’re doing so, so well.”

You clenched your jaw, teeth grinding together as the pain deepened, your whole-body trembling with effort. Your hand found Angela’s, gripping it so tightly your knuckles turned white, seeking the anchor her presence gave you.

“Lewis?” you gasped between breaths, your voice ragged, as sweat dampened your hair and dripped down your temples.

Angela leaned closer, brushing a stray lock of sweat-slicked hair from your forehead with a tenderness that made your heart ache. “He’s on his way, I promise. He’s driving here as fast as he can.”

Your breath hitched. “He’s going to miss it...” you whispered, panic flaring under the exhaustion and pain. “What if -”

“No,” Angela interrupted firmly, her eyes steady and unwavering as she squeezed your hand. “He won’t. He’s Lewis Hamilton. He’ll make it. He won’t let anything keep him away from this moment.”

You wanted to believe her so badly, but the seconds stretched impossibly long. The nurse adjusted your oxygen mask gently, and the world narrowed to your burning belly, your pounding heart, and the fierce hope that Lewis would walk through those doors in time.

At 2:13pm you were in labor in the delivery ward.

The room buzzed with urgent activity, soft voices issuing instructions, the rhythmic beeping of monitors syncing with your own rapid heartbeat. Your body was no longer your own. It was fire and thunder and fierce determination. You pushed with everything you had, your vision swimming as sweat poured down your back and your muscles screamed.

The pain was unbearable, a force of nature, but beneath it all, a fragile thread of hope kept you steady.

Suddenly the door slammed open.

Your head turned sharply, eyes wide, breath hitching with shock and overwhelming relief.

There he was.

Lewis.

His Ferrari polo was soaked through with sweat, the red fabric clinging to his lean frame. His lanyard hung askew around his neck, and his cap was clutched in one hand, his curls wild and damp from his frantic sprint through the hospital corridors.

But his eyes those eyes locked on yours with a focus so fierce it erased every other sound and sight from the room.

“Baby -?” His voice cracked, disbelief and love tangled in the single word.

Your entire body shook uncontrollably. “You made it,” you whispered, the raw emotion breaking free despite the exhaustion.

He was at your side in three quick strides, dropping to his knees beside the bed. His hand found yours immediately, clutching it like a lifeline, pressing it against his chest as if he could feel your heart beating through his skin.

“I’m here. I didn’t miss it. Thank God, I didn’t miss it.” His voice was thick, a mix of awe and relief, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Your tears spilled over, unbidden tears of pain, of relief, of the wildest joy you’d ever known. He leaned forward, pressing gentle kisses to your temple, then your cheek, finally resting his lips on your hand in a vow of presence and protection.

“I’ve got you. I’m here. I’m right here, love,” he whispered fiercely, as if saying it aloud would make the moment more real, safer.

The doctor gave Lewis a slight nod, a quiet signal as the team prepared for the final moments. “Perfect timing, Dad. Let’s meet your little girl.”

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

3:19 PM – Melbourne Private Hospital:

The pain surged one last time a crushing wave you barely managed to ride through. You screamed, a raw, primal sound that echoed off the walls and into the corners of your soul. Then, suddenly, everything shifted.

A sharp, fierce cry filled the room.

High and demanding and alive.

They laid her gently on your chest, slick and warm and breathtaking in her fragile newness.

The world stopped.

You looked down at her tiny fingers curling around your own, her dark eyes fluttering open, her skin flushed and perfect in every way and all the noise, all the chaos of life, all the months of waiting, faded into silence.

Lewis let out a sound that was half laugh, half sob, his breath hitching as he bent over the two of you, pressing endless kisses to your temple, your cheek, and then the soft, delicate cheeks of your daughter. His hands trembled as he cradled her, as if afraid she might vanish if he held her too tightly or not tightly enough.

“She’s here,” you whispered, voice raw and trembling with emotion.

“She’s perfect,” Lewis said softly, brushing a single fingertip down her cheek, marvelling at every detail like a precious treasure. “She’s perfect.”

In that moment amid the bright hospital lights and the quiet hum of the machines nothing else mattered.

No races, no trophies, no podiums.

Because this...

This was the greatest finish line of all.

One Hour Later – Recovery Room:

The city outside had begun to wake trams clattered past the hospital and golden light spilled across the skyline. But inside the recovery room, time had slowed to something sacred.

Lewis sat in the armchair beside your bed, your daughter curled against his chest, swaddled in a soft cream blanket. His Ferrari polo was wrinkled, stained from the mad dash through the paddock. His lanyard still hung crookedly from his belt, as if it had forgotten it no longer mattered. He hadn’t changed. Hadn’t moved. Hadn’t stopped looking at her.

“She’s so small,” he murmured, his thumb tracing tiny circles over her impossibly tiny hand.

From the bed, you smiled at the sight of him, his body curled protectively around her, his face soft with wonder. “I’m so glad you made it,” you whispered. “Just in time.”

Lewis let out a breath that sounded halfway between a laugh and a sob. “I was answering some media question about tire compounds, and then the door slammed open and there was Free. Said Angela called. Said it was happening. I think I left scorch marks on the hotel floor running for the car.”

“She’s going to love that story one day,” you said, your voice hoarse but full of warmth. “How her dad sprinted off media day like a lunatic just to hold her.”

He glanced at you, his eyes still glassy with emotion. “I was terrified I’d miss it. But I didn’t. I saw her first breath. I heard her cry.”

You reached for him, fingertips brushing through his damp curls. “She waited for you.”

Lewis looked down at the tiny bundle against his chest, like she was made of starlight. He pressed a tender kiss to the top of her head. “You hear that, little one?” he whispered. “You’ve already got your daddy wrapped around your finger.”

Then he turned back to you, leaning forward. He kissed you slow and full of everything words couldn’t carry.

“I love you,” you murmured.

He kissed you again. “I love you more. Always.”

And when your daughter stirred, letting out a soft, sleepy sigh against Lewis’s heart, he cradled her closer and closed his eyes.

“You took your sweet time,” he whispered, voice thick with awe. “But I swear, I would’ve waited forever.” ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

Three Days Later – Melbourne Flat:

The Melbourne sun was gentle when they wheeled you out of the hospital. The trees lining the streets had begun to turn amber and gold, early autumn leaves dancing on the breeze like a quiet celebration choreographed just for her arrival. The air was crisp but soft, tinged with eucalyptus and something sweeter maybe relief. Or maybe hope.

You were tired. Bone-deep tired. The kind that lived in your joints and curled behind your eyes. But beneath the soreness and the dull ache in your muscles, your heart was lighter than it had ever been.

Wrapped snug against your chest, in the softest cloud-pink onesie and the little knit beanie Angela had tucked into her overnight bag “just in case,” was the reason your lips wouldn’t stop curling into a smile.

Lewis was meticulous as ever. The car seat had been installed with the kind of precision you’d only ever seen during race weekends checking the angle, adjusting the padding, rechecking whether the straps were too loose or too tight. He hovered around the nurse like a very eager intern, nodding at every instruction and mumbling things like, “Yeah, ISOFIX anchor, got it,” even though you were pretty sure he’d already memorised every car seat safety video on YouTube.

“She’s so cute and small I love her so much,” he whispered, brushing a finger across her cheek as the nurse gently transferred her into the seat.

“She won’t be for long,” you replied, your voice a soft breath.

“Don’t say that” he groaned dramatically, snapping a quick photo with his phone. “I’ve known her for three days. I already miss her being this size.”

You laughed as he slid into the car beside you, his hand covering yours gently. The car was quiet except for the hum of the road and the faint, rhythmic breathing of the tiny bundle between you.

Home.

It hit you halfway there not just the flat itself, but the feeling. Like the whole structure of your world had quietly reshaped itself overnight. You weren’t just returning to a familiar space with Lewis. You were carrying something entirely new into it. A new rhythm. A new centre of gravity. A tiny solar system that now orbited around soft cries, sleepy sighs, and a love so infinite it left a gentle ache in your chest. ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

Two Weeks Later:

The morning light filtered softly through the half-closed blinds, casting a warm, golden haze over the small flat. It was quiet, except for the faint, rhythmic hum of the fridge a steady, almost soothing drone that filled the background like a heartbeat. Bottles were lined up on the kitchen counter, drying in a haphazard array beside the sink, some still glistening with drops of milk. Three mugs once full of steaming coffee sat abandoned on the coffee table, each one now cold and forgotten amid the chaos.

Burp cloths were scattered everywhere: draped over the arms of the couch, tucked into the pockets of Lewis’s hoodie, stuffed between the couch cushions where they’d slipped unnoticed during late-night fumbles. A tiny pink sock peeked out from beneath a pile of blankets on the armchair. There were diapers unopened but stacked within reach, and a half-empty pack of baby wipes on the counter, crumpled from use.

And yet, despite the exhaustion etched deep into the lines on your face and the perpetual dark circles under your eyes, the flat had never felt more alive.

The walls themselves seemed to breathe softly with the quiet sounds of a new life tiny yawns, soft whimpers, the occasional coo that made your heart swell impossibly large. The TV sat on mute, a faint glow on the screen, forgotten amid the slower rhythm of your days. Outside, Melbourne moved on trams clang-clanged their way down busy streets, cars honked and hummed through steady traffic waves, people hustled with purpose but inside, time had folded itself into a gentler, more forgiving shape.

Lewis moved around the flat with a new kind of careful grace, as if every step was choreographed for a performance only, she could see. He had mastered the swaddle like an Olympic sport, folding her blanket with precision and patience, wrapping her snug as if he were protecting something precious from the world’s harsh edges. He burped her with one hand while multitasking like a seasoned pro, changing nappies in record time, warming bottles while FaceTiming Angela, near tears of frustration because he couldn’t remember if the instructions said five minutes or seven.

You caught him talking to her constantly soft words spilling from his lips like a sacred prayer. He narrated every action in that reverent, gentle tone reserved only for her, the sound of his voice a quiet anchor in the dizzying storm of new parenthood.

“Alright, sweetheart, time for your nappy change,” he murmured one morning, his voice low and tender. “I know, I know it’s awful. But trust me, you’ll feel so much better after this. And yes, Daddy still cries a little during this part too.”

He smiled through the exhaustion, cheeks flushed, and eyes rimmed with sleeplessness, as he gently lifted her, her tiny legs kicking faintly in protest. You watched the way his face softened when she looked up at him, the pure, unfiltered love shining there like a beacon.

She was only two weeks old, yet she already had him wrapped around her smallest finger every sigh, every smile, every tiny stretch was enough to make him fall deeper in love.

And you? You never stood a chance.

You caught yourself watching him often, marvelling at how he could be so completely present despite the chaos how his usual fierce determination had been softened by a tenderness you hadn’t quite seen before. The way he whispered promises to her, traced invisible patterns on her tiny hand, and kissed her forehead with a reverence usually reserved for the most sacred moments.

It wasn’t just the flat that felt alive it was the entire world around you both, forever changed by the quiet miracle you held in your arms. ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

3:42 A.M. – Living Room:

You shuffled out of the bedroom, hair wild, eyes puffy, wrapped in the hoodie Lewis had left slung over a chair. The floor creaked beneath your feet, but the rest of the flat was dim and quiet, lit only by the amber glow of the standing lamp in the corner.

Lewis was pacing slowly, shirtless in sweats, cradling your daughter against his bare chest. Her tiny hand gripped his necklace the same one he never took off and her cheek was nestled right against his heart.

“She’s doing that thing again,” he whispered when he saw you rubbing your eyes.

“What thing?” you mumbled, yawning.

“The fake cry. She builds it up like she’s gonna let loose, but then she just doesn’t.”

You slumped onto the couch, face-first into a pillow. “Like father, like daughter.”

He turned with a smirk. “Oi.”

But there was no real protest in it only affection, warm and weary.

You watched him from under the crook of your elbow as he rocked her gently, murmuring soft nonsense in between yawns. His feet moved in slow arcs across the floor, back and forth, as if he could pace the entire universe into stillness.

She shifted in his arms, made a tiny noise, and finally - finally settled.

Still, he didn’t sit. Didn’t move. Just stood there, swaying gently, looking down at her like the world had stopped again. His eyes were tired, rimmed with red. But the way he looked at her like she was made of starlight and answered prayers hadn’t changed for a second.

“Go back to sleep,” he whispered over his shoulder. “I’ve got her.”

And in that moment, you believed him completely.

He was lucky the Chinese Grand Prix wasn’t scheduled until another week or so. ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

Seven Weeks Later – Imola GP Practice:

Lewis arrived with his signature swagger slightly softened still in red, still sunglasses on, but now with something new: a baby pink bracelet on his wrist, handmade with beads that spelled out her name.

The paddock lost it.

Social media exploded with the tag #GirlDadLewis as clips circulated of him talking gently about fatherhood in interviews.

“Sleep’s a myth now,” he joked to Jenson Button, who immediately hugged him.

“I get it now,” Lewis said later in the driver press conference, his tone more reverent than amused. “Why people say it changes you. I look at her, and I just I want to be better. For her. For everything.”

The Ferrari garage gifted him a tiny red onesie with her name and his number on the back.

Toto sent a silver rattle engraved with “To the next generation of Hamiltons.”

Sebastian Vettel texted a photo of his own daughters and simply wrote, “Welcome to the real race.”

Even Max gave him a crooked smile and said, “Don’t let her watch Drive to Survive until she’s at least ten.” ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

Race Day – Imola, 19 May 2025:

The Italian sun was just starting to warm the tarmac as you walked beside Lewis through the paddock, the early light catching on carbon fiber and chrome, casting long, sharp shadows across the ground. Everything felt louder on race day — the hiss of tyre warmers, the crackle of radios, the blur of red and black and yellow uniforms darting across your vision. It was a symphony of speed and tension, choreographed chaos.

But this time, the cameras weren’t just chasing pole positions or new parts.

They were chasing a Ferrari driver with a baby on his chest.

Your daughter miraculous calm was curled against Lewis in a cherry-red carrier, fast asleep despite the whirl around her. A tiny set of protective Ferrari headphones covered her ears, and her white onesie bore the words “Team Daddy” in bold script, stretched just slightly across her tiny belly.

Lewis had never looked prouder.

His fireproofs were unzipped to his waist, the sleeves tied around him in a practiced knot. His black long-sleeve clung to the muscles in his chest and arms, and his signature braids were tucked under a cap pulled low over his brow. One large, careful hand rested protectively on the carrier, as if instinctively shielding her from the intensity of Formula 1. And despite the flashing cameras, the microphones shoved in his direction, and the chaos around them he walked with ease. With purpose. With peace.

You stayed close beside him, your hand brushing against the small of his back whenever the crowd pressed too close. You weren’t working today. No interviews, no backstage access pass dangling from your neck. Just a camera slung casually at your side for you, not for the world.

And she was the reason.

Wherever Lewis walked, the paddock softened. Conversations stopped mid-sentence. Jaws dropped.

Lando stopped mid-interview and grinned like a kid at Christmas. “No way. No way. That’s the paddock baby?”

Carlos literally gasped. “She’s wearing team headphones? I’m going to cry.”

Even Toto, usually all business and polished steel, paused to nod. His usual sharp expression eased into something fond, something close to reverent. “You’ve done well, Lewis,” he murmured before moving on.

“She’s really here,” Charles said softly when he caught sight of her. He approached gently, like any sudden movement might wake her. “Bro, look at her!”

Lewis turned slightly so Charles could see her better, adjusting the baby headphones like they were made of gold.

“She slept through the flight, through breakfast, but wait until she hears an engine start,” he said, his grin wide and boyish, lighting up his whole face.

You smiled, brushing your fingers gently over the exposed skin of Lewis’s wrist. “I think she loves it already.”

Lewis looked down at your daughter, his expression softening into something so raw, so open, it nearly broke you.

“She’s gonna be a paddock baby,” he murmured, voice just loud enough for you to hear. “Just like her mum.”

You laughed, nudging his side. “Only if she gets my patience and your stubbornness. Not the other way around.”

Behind you, Angela hovered with practiced care present but never imposing. She shot you a quiet thumbs-up when your daughter shifted and let out the tiniest sigh in her sleep. Someone probably Fred had already printed and taped a sign to the side of her stroller: Welcome to the team, Little Hamilton. A Ferrari teddy bear had mysteriously appeared in it, too.

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

Build-Up to the Race – 1 Hour Before Lights Out

The hospitality suite had been turned into a soft bubble of calm.

The blinds were drawn just enough to mute the glare and your daughter dozed in her bassinet beside the couch, the hum of the paddock a distant lull in the background.

You sat barefoot, legs tucked under you, watching the minute hand on the clock move with slow inevitability. Lewis stepped back in wearing his full race suit now, the red fitted like armour but his face, when he saw the two of you, was nothing but warmth.

The second he crossed the room, your daughter stirred. Her tiny fists opened like flower petals, eyes fluttering.

“There’s my lucky charm,” Lewis whispered, crouching beside her and pressing the softest kiss to her forehead.

Then he leaned toward you, resting one gloved hand on your thigh as he kissed you next. “And my other lucky charm.”

You grinned against his lips. “She’s already more famous than both of us combined. You know that, right?”

He shrugged with a crooked smile. “Good. She deserves it.”

He stood, stretching his fingers inside his gloves, but paused when his gaze caught on hers again wide eyes blinking up at him from beneath the blanket.

“I’ll be watching from the pit wall,” you said gently, sensing the shift in him. The focus. The nerves.

Lewis nodded once. “You’ll watch, right? Every lap?”

“Every single one,” you promised, reaching out to straighten the edge of his collar. “She will too.”

She stirred again, one tiny hand twitching toward him.

Lewis bent low, nose brushing hers. “Wish me luck, baby girl.” ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

Race – Imola Grand Prix 2025:

It wasn’t a perfect race.

But it was breathtaking.

Lewis fought for every inch of track like it was made of glass. Every lap was a masterclass from his electric start to that incredible overtake on Kimi, a move so sharp even the commentators gasped. He defended like his life depended on it, shoulders taut, steering wheel twitching like it was an extension of his soul.

But the Red Bull and McLaren’s were rockets today, and Charles frustrated but smooth had played his absolute best.

P4.

Just one step off the podium.

You were already waiting with her in the shadows of the Ferrari garage, bouncing gently on your heels as the engines cut and the cooldown lap ended. Sweat dampened your collarbone. Your daughter stirred lightly in the carrier, eyes blinking in the half-light as the tension crackled through the air.

And then Lewis appeared.

He climbed from the car slowly, peeling off his gloves, his shoulders heaving. He nodded to the crew, gave a brief hug to his race engineer but his eyes were searching.

For you.

He spotted you instantly, like he’d known exactly where you’d be.

And then helmet still on he walked straight to you, unbothered by the cameras, the crowd, the chaos.

He dropped to his knees.

Lifted his visor.

She blinked at him, still groggy but curious and made a soft cooing noise that broke something loose in your chest.

“Hey, little one,” Lewis said, voice hoarse. “Daddy didn’t win. But I raced for you today.”

She yawned slow and sweet, one tiny hand curling.

You were crouched beside him, your arm sliding across his shoulders, fingers pressing into the damp fabric of his suit. “You came fourth,” you whispered. “That’s still incredible.”

He leaned forward, resting his forehead gently against her blanket-covered belly. “I just wanted her to see me up there. Just once.”

You tilted his face up and brushed your thumb along his cheek, catching the salt and stubble and stinging emotion in his eyes. “She saw something better. She saw her dad fight for it.”

For a moment, the world around you blurred. The crowd faded. The cameras, the reporters, the roar of mechanics it all softened under the weight of that quiet, perfect moment.

And then the flashes returned. The shutters clicked in bursts.

One photo made it onto social media within minutes.

Lewis Hamilton with sweat-slicked, eyes glassy, still in his fire-red Ferrari race suit cradling his baby daughter in one arm, her tiny hand gripping the edge of his collar. In the same frame, you - hair loose, face open, forehead pressed to his were frozen mid-kiss.

The caption read:

P4, but winning where it matters most. Lewis Hamilton - Girl Dad.

[heyitspapayaontop]

Just Like You

In the quiet of a sunny afternoon in Monaco, the Verstappen-Piquet household was peaceful.

Too peaceful.

Max was on a team debrief in the kitchen, Kelly was on the balcony sipping her iced coffee, and the sim room—Max’s sacred, high-tech, strictly-off-limits man cave—sat unguarded.

Which meant exactly one thing.

An 8 year old Penelope, peeked around the corner with a conspiratorial grin. Behind her, Y/N—barely 4, dressed in a too-big Red Bull hoodie and gripping a half-eaten stroopwafel—tiptoed with intense determination.

“You ready?” P whispered.

Y/N nodded. “Ready.”

“Remember, you do the wheel. I do the petals.”

“Okay. I be fast.”

“No, we be fast.”

The two girls quietly pushed the slightly ajar door open, the glow from the sim rig blinking like a magical treasure chest.

They slipped inside.

Penelope clambered into the rig like a pro—Max had let her look at it before, but never touch. She slipped her feet toward the pedals, eyes wide with reverence. “I’m gonna press the gas like crazy.”

Y/N nodded and wiggled up onto P's lap, gripping the steering wheel like she knew how to win a championship. “I turn bigggg.”

“Okay, let’s go!”

Penelope tapped the ignition key and Y/N dramatically twisted the wheel left and right. “Vroom! VROOOOM!”

And suddenly—it was all very real.

Penelope stomped a pedal. “GOOOOO!”

Y/N shrieked in delight, spinning the wheel. “We winning!! GO GO GO!!”

From the kitchen, Max frowned.

“Wait. What’s that noise?”

Kelly froze mid-sip. “…No.”

Max took off running. “Oh no.”

When he threw the door open, he found:

—His two daughters —In his prized sim seat —Y/N steering like a madwoman, —Penelope mashing pedals like it was Whac-a-Mole —And both of them dead serious.

“GIRLS—!”

Penelope’s head snapped up. “PAPAAA!”

Y/N gasped. “OH-OH.”

Max rushed over, scooping Y/N up as she giggled wildly in his arms. “Wat zijn jullie aan het doen?!“ (“What are you two doing?!“)

“We were racingggg!” Y/N cheered, throwing her arms up.

Penelope climbed down, all smug. “I was the gas. She was the wheel. We were a team.”

Max stared at them, torn between horror and pure dad-melt mode.

“Mijn kleine gans,” (“My little goose,”) he muttered, kissing Y/N’s cheek. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

Y/N squished his cheeks. “I go vroom like you!”

“And you, kleine eend,” (“And you, little duck,”) he said to Penelope. “You’re too clever for your own good.”

Penelope grinned. “You always say racing is teamwork.”

Max looked at Kelly, now filming in the doorway, completely losing it.

“I meant in real cars, not in my €40,000 simulator.”

Y/N leaned into his chest, eyes sparkling. “Can we race again tomorrow?”

Max groaned.

“…Only if I’m on your team next time.”

Penelope grinned. “Then you press the gas, Papa.”

Kelly zoomed in, whispering, “Caption: Verstappen's girls steal the sim, win Monaco Grand Prix.”

Max shook his head with a sigh, bouncing Y/N in his arms. “My little goose and little duck are too dangerous.”

But deep down?

He was just a little bit proud.

A/N: loved this one sm. Not requested!

[not-magdi]

(Not so) Quiet Evenings

Summary: Lando is alone with his son for the first time

Warnings: None, just so high risk of a baby fever

Words: 1.1k

A/N

I wanted to thank you for 1k notes on Little Update. So I wrote another dad!lando to thank all of you! <3

(I wanted to put a picture with him and a baby here but this was way too cute to not post❤️)

Carmen and Lily invited you to a small baby-free get-together. Nothing too big, just the three of you sitting together, relaxing and letting loose for a bit.

This whole thing was actually Lando's idea. He wanted to get you out of the house for a bit, sensing that you needed a little break from being a mama bear.

So he asked Lily if she could invite you over to catch up and keep your mind off of things a little. Of course, she said yes, already starting to plan the second Lando asked her. 

So now the Brit is sitting on the couch, watching you rush through the apartment to grab everything you need.

"Baby, you're gonna be fine, trust me. It's just Lily and Carmen."   

Halting your movements, you turn to him, your phone in one hand and your keys in the other. 

"I know it's just I want this to be perfect. It's been so long since I went out."

Lando stands up and makes his way over to you, stopping right in front of you. 

"You're going to be ok. Enjoy your night. Me and the little muppet are going to have a great night."

Lando strokes your arms, kissing your head to calm you down. 

"Speaking of the little muppet." You turn around and grab a piece of paper from the shelf behind you. "I wrote you a little list so you don't get overwhelmed by being alone."

Lando takes the paper and reads through the different points. 

Try to feed him before bed. So he sleeps a little bit longer( milk is already in the bottle) 

Bath him (use the blue and the green bottles on the sink) 

If he gets fussy, play the F1 intro. (Works every time!)   

Try to get him to bed around 7:30 p.m. 

You're going to do great. You're a super dad, and I believe in you. 

"Aww, you're cute." 

Wrapping his arms around you, he wishes you a lovely evening and practically pushes you out the door. 

Now, standing alone in the quiet apartment, a feeling of nervousness creeps up in his body. He grips the list you gave him a little tighter and makes his way into his son's room. 

Gently opening the door, he smiles at his son's sleeping figure, cuddled up in his little cot. Lando walks into the room, approaches his son and gently takes him into his arms.

Henry wakes up and looks at his dad with his adorable big blue eyes, cuddling himself into Lando's shoulder. 

Lando strokes his back to settle little Henry in his arms again, feeling the soft material of his little bear pyjamas between his fingers. 

"Well, hello there, little man. Slept well?" He asks, earning himself a happy gurgle. 

"I take that as a yes." 

He carries Henry into the living room, asking him all sorts of questions on the way.

"You also think that nobody needs fish, right? Say nothing if you agree."

Hearing complete silence from the sleeping baby in his arms, he looks down to find Henry in a deep slumber again. He laughs a little at how much they already have in common, being able to sleep everywhere. 

The two continue to cuddle for a bit. Lando tells him all sorts of stories until he feels Henry getting restless on his chest. 

"You getting hungry, little bud?" 

Henry lets out a whine, grabbing the shirt he lays on with his little fists. Lando strokes his back to settle him again, and stands up to grab a bottle from the kitchen. 

"How does Y/N do that?" 

In the kitchen, he currently tries to heat the bottle while holding the baby in his arms, which turns out to be more complicated than he thought, with a squirming baby in his arm.  

"How about- no, that's not going to work." 

"And if I just- nope, also not." 

After some time, he finally figured it out. He stuck Henry into his hoodie and held him with one hand while he prepared the bottle with the other.  

Now, he is sitting in your bathroom waiting for the water to be the perfect temperature. 

Let's say feeding didn't go quite as planned. The food was everywhere except Henry's mouth, on the floor, on Henry, the curtains, but mainly on Lando. 

So, now that both of them needed a bath, he decided to kill two birds with one stone. 

The water is warm enough now, so he grabs little Henry and climbs into the tub. The warmth engulfs their bodies as he lays down. 

"Yeah, that's better. Admit it, you just wanted to bathe with me."

Henry gives his dad a toothless smile and splashes him with water. Lando giggles at his son's antics and grabs the soap to start washing him. 

After he washed himself and the baby, he got both of them dressed. They are both dressed in matching quadrant hoodies, something Max gifted him as Henry was born. 

Land decides the world needs to see how unbelievably cute he and Henry look, so he takes a picture and posts it on his story. 

Millions of messages arrive to him in a matter of minutes, but he ignores them and makes his way over to Henry's little nursery. He is fighting to keep his little eyes open, so Lando decides it is time for him to call it a night. 

The second he lays him down in his crib, he starts to whine, not liking the loss of his father's warmth one bit. 

So Lando picks him up again, walks to the living room and sits on the couch. 

"You don't want to sleep yet, do you?" 

He coos at him and bounces up and down to settle Henry a little. Happy to be in his dad's arms again, he settles back down and closes his eyes. 

"Oh, so now you wanna sleep? Little evil genius, you got that from your mom." 

Not wanting to wake him up, Lando decides to stay on the couch and watch some TV until Henry is sleeping deep enough. It doesn't take long for Lando to doze off, one hand on his son's back and the other under his butt, having him in a safe grip. 

And that's exactly how you found them two hours later, cuddled up on the couch, the TV playing in the background.   

Smiling to yourself, you take out your phone and take a picture of the two of them, definitely posting that later. But for now, you walk up to them and cuddle yourself to your perfect little family.   

[russellsppttemplates]

Do you have any fics similar to the Lewis one called daddy’s home

Hiii! I'm assuming you're talking about pieces I’ve written with dad!driver after the baby is born? Feel comfortable to correct me if it isn't, though!

For Lewis, that's the only one I have.

For Charles, I have

Our little family

Our village

It helps mama too

For Pierre, I have

Papa's lookalikes

You're the best papa

For George, I have

Bestfriends

Skin to skin

For Lance, I have

Your mummy is my hero

For Mick, I have

Nowhere I would rather be

For Daniel, I have,

Monza Surprise

For Lando, I have

I have it all right here

I think these are the ones that include the baby's first moments and meeting their father, and overall newborn cuteness! There are also many blurbs, but those are harder to link here, so maybe you can look over the tags (I always have driver's name blurb ) and you'll be able to find them ✨️

I hope this was helpful 🤍✨️

[81pastrys]

Princess to All

Summary— Baby Lana steals the show from Lando’s twin boys

Warnings— cuteness overload

A/N— daddy landoooo

Dad Lando List

Request— I found this pic on Pinterest and all I could think of was Lando bringing home his daughter to he twins and they are automatically obsessed like they just fawn over her, getting jealous when Lando hold her etc - @azeal-peal

Leyton and Louis were bouncing off the walls with energy all day and Cisca could barely contain them. The 3-year-olds just too excited for their baby sister to come home any minute.

Lando did have a talk with his boys about ‘gentle hands’ and ‘no kisses’ for the safety of the newborn. Cisca decided they needed a reminder though since they’re energetic like this. “We can watch a show, but we need to have a refresher for when baby Lana comes home okay?” She asked the boys.

They both calmed themselves as much as they could and sat on the couch, wriggling and squirming from the pent up energy. She kneeled to their level and reminded them gently how Lando did.

“Okay Mimi.” They said. Leyton was more of a goodie two shoes while Louis would wreak havoc wherever he went. She turned the show on and near the end the front door opened. Lando, his wife, and the newborn entered the house quietly.

The boys ran up to Lando holding the infant seat and gawked at her. “She so little daddy.” Leyton observed. Lana startled at the voice, a familiar one from in the womb.

“Daddy, daddy, can you play with us?” Louis asked, seemingly uninterested at the moment. Lando chuckled at the boys and crouched to their level, setting the carrier down next to him.

“Daddy is really tired boys, no play time tonight. Tomorrow we can, okay?” He explained softly. Louis crossed his arms in protest and Leyton nodded his head obediently. “Louis, daddy has been taking care of mama and baby Lana. I’m sure Mimi played with you today.”

“But I want to play with you.” The boy whined. Leyton looked at his brother innocently and up to their mama.

“Daddy said we can play tomorrow Lou, and mama looks tired.” Leyton tried to console his brother. “Let’s finish watching the movie, then mama and daddy can tuck us in!”

“That’s a good idea boys!” Their mum encouraged. They pattered back to the couch and snuggling Cisca as the movie continued.

Lando helped his wife settle down with Lana and got the newborn in her crib for the night, well 2-3 hours until she needed to be fed again. She ordered pizza for an easier dinner and set the table.

After dinner the boys insisted on Lando to give them a bath. He always did fun baths, bubbles, games, and all the toys imaginable came out.

After nearly an hour messing around in the bubbles and duckie missions, the boys were worn out and ready for bed.

“Alright boys take your pick.” Lando said. Every night the boys would pick their parent of choice for a bedtime story and to get tucked in by. Leyton was a massive mama boy and Louis was a daddy’s boy.

Tonight they chose the opposite and Lando was surprised, but nonetheless tucked his little Leyton in bed after a Dino story. He kissed the boys head with a quick ‘goodnight’ and his wife did the same for Louis. They swapped boys to offer more kisses and good nights before returning to Cisca.

“How was everything?” Cisca asked. She was kept updated by text and FaceTime once Lana was born, but knew birth was a harder task than most.

“Well it’s much easier when there’s only one.” She laughed. “Everything was perfect, she was much smaller than the boys and the medicine definitely worked.”

“The nurses and doctors were super nice as well.” Lando added, eating a cold piece of pizza. “How were the boys?” He knew his twins were a fucking handful.

“Energetic, rambunctious, and just how you were at that age.” His mum joked. Lando smiled at her hard.

The next morning was filled with giggles and laughter. The boys ate their breakfast while Lana was breast fed. Lando told his mum she could leave after she had gotten proper rest after caring for the boys. Lando made them a nice breakfast and waited for Lana to finish eating as well so his wife could get some well needed rest as well.

“Daddy why is mama so sleepy?” Louis asked, he was sweet and kind hearted like Lando. However once he got going there was no stopping him on being the trouble maker.

“Well mama just gave birth to your sister little man.” Lando explained, before realizing they don’t know that even means. “Baby Lana needs to eat every few hours and so that means at night she wakes up and mama has to feed her.”

“Why can’t mama just feed her dinner like us?” Leyton asked, curious minded like his mum. “We eat a big dinner and then sleep all night before breakfast.”

“That’s right, but since Lana is so small and tiny, she gets hungry quicker.” Lando said. “So mama is a little sleepy from waking up with her.”

The boys shrugged it off and begged Lando to play instead. He agreed, joining them in their playroom to play with hot wheels and other toys.

Lana was given over to Lando in the midst of this and he accepted her with open arms. She was screaming their ears off. “I fed and changed her but she won’t calm down.” His wife said, she looked tired and exhausted.

Lando listened to her. “Go get some rest my love, I’ve got her now.” He said with a small smile. He moved little Lana to her favorite position, on his chest with his hand holding her snug from her bottom. He rubbed her back and soothed her with his words.

“Daddy she’s loud!” Louis yelled over the little girl. Leyton nodded his head, both boys covering their ears.

“She’s just a bit fussy, what’s the matter baby?” He asked, swaying and rocking her while she continued to scream. “Okay, okay.” He said. He moved her in his arms so he could unbutton his shirt and lay her on his bare chest, the nurse mentioning it calms babies down.

“Daddy’s magic!” Leyton said in awe at Lando calming the screams to light coos. Lando chuckled at his son and made his way to the main area. He lounged on the couch while Lana fell into Lando’s sleep trap.

He moved her to a bassinet in the playroom and continued his game with the boys. Somehow the boys got hold of some of his older F1 hats and wore them with pride. When Lando set his babygirl down they both leaned over the bassinet admiring the sleeping baby.

“Gentle hands, and no kisses just yet.” Lando reminded softly. Louis moved his hand first, lightly brushing her head with his hand. “Good job buddy!” Lando praised the gentle touch.

Leyton followed, his small hand cupping her head softly. “She so cute daddy!” He whispered before giggling.

“She’s is huh?” Lando smiled. The boys kept ‘petting’ her head gently before they got bored and continued playing with their cars. Urging Lando to join. He did, the bassinet close by in case Lana stirs.

New names, new kids, Lando’s got a big family.

@il0vereadingstuff @angelluv16 @pandabiiissh @itznotsophia @kallanfiona @chertik-007vvv

[kakorrhaphiphobia]

this was everything and more! ❤️‍🩹

honestly don’t know how you can write something this good!!! i loved every chapter<3

starting the week on a high!! can’t still believe the monza win and this is cherry on top 🫂

E P I L O G U E - Invisible String

Masterlist - Previous

Hello lovely people, here it is, the Epilogue. Instead of a classic epilogue you’ll get to join Lizzie and Charles in their life together through the years.

I hope you enjoy reading this final part of Invisible String as much as I enjoyed writing it. The whole journey of Lizzie and Charles meant so much to me, finishing it is heartbreaking but relieving at the same time. I know I sent you in for a looong ride with lots of ups and downs with this one and I thank every single one of you who stayed from the very beginning to end now. But also everyone who joined in along the ride, thank you! And to the people who just recently started reading, thank you for taking time out of your day to start reading over 50 chapters of a fic, that started over a year ago! I loved every single interaction with you guys, the comments, reblogs, chats and anons, thank you so much for showing me/my story so much love!

There are a lot of people to thank, starting with my bestie who first was mildly confused by the fact that I was writing fan fiction, but then become obsessed and hated me when I hurt her precious baby boos (her words!) and literally gobsmacked me once or twice, when my "torturing went too far".

My lovely boyfriend fiancé who I met while being in the middle of writing this amazing story, who supported me and even read my story because he was curious, starting to get super invested in it.

And last, but definitely not least, a H U G E thank you to the person, without who this story wouldn’t even exist. Thank you, thank you, thank you @elisysd for not only writing my favourite fanfics, but also for motivating me to write and release my own! Thank you for being my torture partner in crime, thank you for always helping me out with title names, thank you for reading my new ideas, motivating me to continue and develop them into new stories. Thank you for all the conversations about our stories, new ideas, talks about the races, our shared views on certain people, and the talks about what is going on in the crazy whirlwind that is our life’s! I’m so very grateful that I found Cruel Summer (if you haven’t read it till now, DO IT! My favourite fic out there!) last year and that you started a chat with me, because life hasn’t been the same since then. So one final thank you, for literally EVERYTHING ♥️

And now I wrote enough! Some little blurbs, social media posts and a lot of time jumps are ahead, buckle in and let’s f****** goooo!

10th May 2026:

"Shhh Emmie, we don’t want to wake up mummy now, do we?" I whispered, tickling her tummy "I’m almost done, little princess."

I placed everything on the tray, and tried to lift it with one hand, before I picked up Emmie, making my way to our bedroom. Lizzie was still fast asleep, Arlo at the foot of our bed sitting up, looking at Emmie and me.

"Be a good boy." I looked at him and he laid back down, making no sound "Alright…" I sat down the tray on my side of the bed before I pushed the button to open up the shades, letting in the sun, a little groan letting me know that Lizzie wasn’t liking the light intrusion. Pulling the blanket over her head was the second indicator.

"Way too early…" she mumbled and I had to chuckle, Emmie clapping happily.

"It’s not that early…" I climbed into bed, Emmie in my lap, pulling the tray over.

"Everything before 9 is too early." Lizzie yawned, slowly scrambling up, her hair dishevelled. She took in Emmie and me, a big smile slowly spreading over her face "Good morning my beautiful baby girl." she cooed and our little one wriggled out of my lap, crawling over to her mum, cuddling into her side "Hi Emmie." Lizzie picked her up, cradling her to her chest, kissing her cheek, making our little girl giggle.

"Happy Mother’s day, cara mia." I smiled at them, pulling the tray close and turned a little to grab the bouquet of flowers from my night stand.

Lizzie made big eyes, looking from the breakfast on the tray, to the flowers in my hand to Emmie in her arms.

"Oh Charles… this is… this is wonderful." she whispered, leaning over, brushing her soft lips against mine "I honestly forgot about it… Oh god our mums!" she panicked a little and I cupped her cheek.

"They both get a beautiful bouquet and a bottle of the nicest champagne delivered today. Don’t worry. I talked to them, because I wanted to spend today with you and Emmie… it’s your first Mother’s day after all. Today is special." I smiled at her and she looked at me, glassy eyes and pink cheeks.

"You’re amazing…" she whispered and leaned in, kissing my cheek.

"It wasn’t just me, Emmie helped as well…" I said and Lizzie giggled, looking at our little girl, sitting in her lap and looking up at her with big eyes, smile on her face, eating everything up her mum said.

"You’re amazing too, Emmie." she kissed her chubby cheek.

"Ready to eat something?" I asked and she nodded.

"I’m actually starving."

"Perfect, because I made a lot…" I pulled the tray closer and Lizzie’s eyes widened.

"Watching Jamie Oliver and Gordon Ramsay made a real chef out of you…" she chuckled, grabbing a strawberry "Daddy is spoiling us, baby girl."

"Just wait for dinner and dessert." I wiggled my eyebrows, wiping some strawberry juice from Emmie’s chin.

"Ouhhh, I can’t wait!" Lizzie mumbled, looking through the options of food, while I fed Emmie another Strawberry.

"I was thinking we could do a little boat tour today, but because of the race next week it’s so full everywhere, I don’t want to navigate through it with you two…" I said, playing with Emmie while Lizzie munched on her cheese omelette.

"It’s Emmie’s first home race." Lizzie looked up from her plate, gently pinching Emmie’s cheek "You’ll see daddy race here in Monaco, baby girl. Daddy and his Ferrari."

"Rar-… rari…" Emmie babbled and I dropped the melon slice in my hand, Lizzie almost choking on her orange juice.

"Did she just?" I looked at Lizzie, her big blue orbs staring at our daughter "Princess did you just try to say Ferrari?" I picked her up, looking into her gorgeous face.

"Rari…" Emmie repeated, clapping happily.

"Oh my god Charles! Her first word is Ferrari! Well… almost… but oh my god!” Lizzie cheered "Emmie, baby girl, say Ferrari. Fer-ra-ri…"

"I don’t think it’s that easy, cara mia, you can’t just say a word and sh-…" I began but had to swallow my own words.

"Fr- fri-" Emmie chortled.

"Almost baby girl. Fer-ra-ri…" Lizzie tried again.

"Fr-rari…"

"Yes! You did it!" I chimed, littering Emmie’s chubby cheeks with kisses "My little genius baby girl! Ferrari! Your first word is Ferrari! Can you say 'Forza Ferrari'?"

"Okay, now you’re just reaching." Lizzie chuckled, but I ignored her.

"Fr-rari…" Emmie giggled when I kissed her nose "Fr-rari…"

"You’re just jealous that her first word was Ferrari, not Audi!" I smirked and Lizzie rolled her eyes "My precious little princess! I can’t wait to tell everyone about it!"

I cradled her to my chest, kissing her hair and she giggled happily. Lizzie leaned over, tucking some loose strands of her out of Emmie’s face, smiling at her, kissing her cheek.

"You want to try to say 'Audi'? Au-di…" she whispered and I pulled Emmie away.

"What are you doing, cara mia?" I laughed and she sat up, shrugging her shoulders.

"It was worth a try…"

"Even if she would say Audi, which is a way easier name by the way, so… unfair… but okay, her first word would still be Ferrari!" I looked at her and she was pouting a little, my eyes fell on her plush lips, before I looked in her eyes again.

"What about… we finish breakfast, put Emmie down and then we’re having a thorough discussion about what our baby’s first word was?" her voice sultry, lashes fluttering.

"Mhhh that does sound pretty good to me…" I leaned over, capturing her lips in a steamy kiss, biting her bottom lip a little when I pulled away "But it won’t change the fact that our baby girls first word was Ferrari…"

"Fr-rari!" as if on cue Emmie chimed in and I laughed against Lizzie’s lips, a soft smile on them.

"Ferrari it is…" she sighed.

"Ferrari it is…" I laughed.

"Fr-rari!"

7th September 2026:

"Food?"

"Check."

"Drinks?"

"Check."

"Decoration?"

"Check."

"Birthday cake?"

Silence. So I repeated it again.

"Birthday cake?"

"Umm-…"

"Charles! That was the most important thing! You said you would pick it up! I can’t believe you!" I groaned, walking inside, stopping dead in my tracks, the birthday cake sitting on top of the table.

"Birthday cake? Check." Charles chuckled and I puffed out some air.

"So not funny…" I rolled my eyes.

"Sorry, I had to, because someone is panicking a little… it’s going to be just fine cara mia!" Charles pulled me into him, kissing my cheek "Emmie won’t even remember this day, okay? Relax a little, pretty girl."

"Who says that she won’t remember today?" I cocked an eyebrow and Charles sighed.

"Are you serious? No one remembers their first birthday…"

"It’s just… I want this to be perfect…" I said quietly and he rubbed his hands up and down my sides "She’s one Charles, can you believe it? One!"

"Yeah… the last year went by in a blur… one day she was still in your belly the next we’re already celebrating her first birthday…" he replied and I looked around.

"We should take a picture of her. Before everyone is here and she’s too excited to sit still for a moment… just her, a balloon or two, her cake?" I said and Charles nodded.

"I set up a back ground and you get our little princess ready?" he said and I nodded, walking off, but then I stopped, turning around "You forgot something?"

"Yup…" I cupped his cheeks and kissed him "Thank you, for always calming me down… I love you."

"I love you more…" he whispered against my lips and I smiled "Now, get our little princess…"

I walked downstairs, opening quietly the door to Emmie’s room, pushing the button for the shades to open. I smiled when I saw that she was already awake, sitting in her bed, gorgeous smile on her little face.

"Hi baby girl, look at your little smiley face…" I cooed, leaning down and picking her up.

"Mama…" she said, her voice sweet like honey.

"Ready for your party?" I asked, sitting her down and she clapped happily "Yeah? You know that everyone is coming to see you?"

"Evy-one?" she repeated slowly and I nodded, brushing her wild hair.

"Everyone, that means… pops and gammy, granny as well. Your aunties Sissy, Charlotte and Shima. And of course your uncles Lorenzo, Joris, Daniel, Arthur-…"

"Tur!" she said excitedly almost jumping off the changing table.

"Yeah, Uncle Arthur is coming. And of course Liam and Noah." I smiled at her, kissing her cheek "Alright let’s dress you up and then go and find daddy?"

"Dada!"

"Yes, dada."

After putting her hair in a tiny bun, or rather a little palm, on the top of her head, dressing her into a cute dress I picked Emmie up, walking upstairs, where Charles arranged in the corner a little photo background.

"Oh look at my gorgeous girl! Hi princess." he cooed at her and she leaned over to him and Charles grabbed her, holding her close to his chest "Is that okay?" he looked at me and I nodded.

"I’ll go and get the cake…"

I watched Charles putting Emmie down, playing a little with our girl, and had to smile. He was born to be a father, like I always said. I took some pictures of them before I walked over, setting the cake down in front of Emmie.

"You have to watch her closely… I don’t want a foot in the cake… or hands…"

"I’ll take care, don’t worry…" Charles smiled "Ready?" he looked at me and I nodded, then he let go of Emmie and I took some photos.

"Alright. I think I’ve got it…" I showed Charles the results and he beamed at me.

"Perfect. Now let’s get ready for the party. They should all be here in the next minutes…"

And he was right, not even 20 minutes later the living room was full with our family and we gathered around, singing Happy Birthday for the very first time for Emmie.

February 2027:

"Charles Marc Hervé Perceval Leclerc! Are you serious?!" I sighed and Charles looked sheepishly at me.

"It looked so cute and I thought she doesn’t have one yet…" he said and tried to soften me with his smile.

"Charles! Her room slowly turns into the Ark of Emmie! She has a whole petting zoo full of stuffed animals!" I said as Charles crouched down and handed our toddler the stuffed panda bear. Emmie took it in her arms and cuddled it tight.

"Look! She loves it! As long as she loves it! Cara mia, she’s my pretty princess! Spoiling her is basically my job!" he said and I rolled my eyes.

"I used to be your pretty princess…" I fake pouted and Charles grabbed me by the waist and pulled me into him.

"Oh mon amour, you’re my beautiful queen! And she is our pretty little princess!" he said and kissed me tenderly.

"Mhhh I like the sound of that… my king…" I whispered against his lips, then kissed him again and pushed myself off of him gently. I walked away but stopped in the door "No more toys, Charles! She’s not even 1.5 years old and has already more stuff than 3 toy stores combined!" with that I walked out of the room, but I stayed in the hallway.

"You heard what our queen said, little princess. No more toys for you officially… but rest assured, I’ll bring you more, but that’s our secret!" Charles whispered and Emmie laughed and clapped excitedly.

"CHARLES!" I shouted.

"Oh shit…" he exclaimed.

"Oh shit…" Emmie repeated and I stormed back into her play room "Oh shit, mama. Oh shit, dada!"

"I’m so, so sorry!" Charles said and I glared at him.

"Mami? Dada a stupi io?" Emmie smiled at me and Charles looked flabbergasted.

"Emmie!" I sighed and Charles started grinning.

"No curse words in front of the baby girl I thought, cara mia? What happened to that rule?" he cocked an eyebrow and grinned at me.

"Someone was cutting the line…" I whispered.

"Road rage… I get it." he laughed and then picked up Emmie and pulled me in his arms too "My queen and my princess… I don’t know what I did to deserve this kind of magnificent luck…" he whispered and kissed my temple first and then Emmies cheek, she smiled her almost toothless smile, dimples showing just like her dads.

Bahrain 2027:

"Season opener for the husband on Sunday, charity race for you today with said husband, Max Verstappen, Lewis Hamilton, Jamie Chadwick, Doriane Pin, Maya Weug, Abbi Pulling, Carrie Schreiner and Bianca Bustamate. Excited to be back in the car?" Natalie asked Lizzie who smiled her most beautiful smile.

"Very excited. It’s only 10 laps, so I should be good, but yeah I trained a little with Charles the last weeks and I really hope that I’ll make it." she chuckled.

"First time little Emmie see’s her mummy race, how excited is she?"

"She made huge eyes when she saw me in the race suit and at the seat fitting she pulled at Charles leg and pointed at me, asking why I’m in the car and not he." Lizzie recalled and I had to laugh, thinking about Emmie’s face yesterday.

"So she’s talking now?"

"We’re getting there… but yeah, everyday a little more… if she’s like her dad, she won’t stop talking in no time…"

"It’s good to have you back here, Lizzie. All the best for the little family and of course good luck in the race later! And if I might say that, kick some asses in good old Lizzie fashion." Natalie smiled.

"Thanks, I’ll try my best, I promise!" Lizzie hugged her and walked off, a big smile on her face.

"So I’m the one talking too much?" I cocked an eyebrow and she laughed, kissing my cheek.

"But I love it when you’re talking…"

"Yeah, yeah… let’s go. The race will start soon…" I said, taking her hand, intertwining our fingers.

"It will be fine, you don’t have to worry…" she said, squeezing my hand a little.

"I know… it’s just- it was a risk that you finished your season 2 years ago… and now getting back in the car…" I sighed and she stopped.

"Charles, it’s only 10 laps… I’ll be fine, don’t worry! We talked with the doctor, I’m prepared, we did a lot of workouts-…"

"Mhh… that we did. I liked that." I whispered and she blushed, pinching my side.

"Get your head out of the gutter! We’re racing in 30 minutes!" she rolled her eyes playfully and I laughed.

"Prepare to lose, cara mia."

"Nope. I’m going to kick your ass. All my girls will kick your ass…" she smiled and I pulled her close, kissing her.

"May the best driver win…"

"So Max should win?" she cocked an eyebrow and I pinched her waist.

"Hey!" I pouted and she laughed.

"Let’s go, world champ."

"Did you let her win, because she’s your wife? Be honest." Max wiggled his eyebrows and I laughed.

"Yeah sure and never hear the end of it at home? How she beat me? Definitely not! You couldn’t catch up to her as well!" I looked at him and he scratched his chin.

"Maybe it’s better for us that she’s not in F1 anymore…" he shrugged.

"Yeah, I’m kinda getting used to winning titles." I joked and Max pushed me playfully.

"Yeah, yeah, Ferrari boy. Hold your horses, I’m this close of snatching the title away from you."

"Sure thing, slow bull."

"Ouch, what kind of conversation do I interrupt here?" Lizzie walked up to us and I pulled her in, kissing her gently.

"We just established that we’re pretty damn happy that you’re not in F1 anymore… we like winning and against you… well never mind." Max said and Lizzie laughed.

"Oh you poor boys… maybe I should give Felix a call." I chuckled and Charles shook his head, laughing.

"Please don’t."

"We’ll see." she laughed, walking off when Susie waved her over.

"But in all honesty, this was fun, we should do this more often." Max said as we walked back to the garages and I nodded.

"Definitely. It’s fun and for a good cause, we really-…" I began when a tiny little whirlwind in red ran towards me.

"Papa! Papa!" Emmie’s bright voice made everyone looking for the source of the adorable sound "Uppy!" she stopped in front of me, making grabby hands and puppy eyes.

"Hey my baby girl, you shouldn’t be running around here all alone." I picked her up and she immediately grabbed my face between her chubby, little hands.

"Pop!" she screeched and turned my head to the side, Juergen wiping his eyebrow, sighing relieved.

"And you shouldn’t make Pop sweat like that!" I booped her nose and she started to giggle hysterically, turning her head a little, stopping abruptly when she spotted Max.

"Hi Emmie." he cooed at her and she scrunched up her nose adorably.

"Say hi to Max, princess." I smiled at her and she looked between me and Max for a while before she turned to him, stretching out her hand, poking his cheek.

"Maxie." she said and he nodded.

"You can call me Maxie, that’s alright." Max smiled.

"Maxie…" she repeated and then looked at me "Charlie…"

"Hey! I’m not Charlie! I’m dad-" I began but got interrupted by her giggles.

"Maxie 'nd Charlie." she smiled poking first my cheek, then Max’ "Maxie 'nd Charlie."

"No, Emmie. I’m Daddy, Dad, Pap, Papa, Paps. But not Charlie. Okay? I’m not Charlie." I tried again.

"Charlie… Maxie." she said, nodding.

"Are you really trying to argue with her? You know who her mother is." Max laughed.

"Yep. That I know." I looked at Emmie and kissed her cheek "Thankfully she’s just as adorable as her mum, that saves her."

"Look at you, turned into a big, old softie." Max laughed when Emmie looked at him, a curious look on her face.

"Softie Maxie?"

"No, your daddy, girlie. He’s the softie!"

"No. Maxie softie. Charlie? Down." Emmie turned and looked at me, when she spotted Lizzie a few steps away. I sat her down and looked at her.

"Straight to mum, princess, okay? No detours!"

"Staight to mama." she nodded and bolted off.

I watched her hug Lizzie’s leg who bent down, picking her up. Seeing Lizzie back in a race suit, our daughter on her hip, made me feel all sorts of things and when Max started to laugh next to me, clapping my back I couldn’t stop the grin forming on my lips.

"Oh you’re so down bad for these two…"

"Oh yes… yes I am."

I watched the replay of the final overtake on the screen, Max next to me chuckling.

"Not gonna lie, after that move, I’m not even mad that you won." he said and I wiped my face with a towel.

"I had to try it, could’ve gone wrong as well…" I shrugged a little.

"Not today, you had an extra lucky charm with you." he nodded towards the screen, showing Lizzie with Emmie, wearing her little Ferrari hoodie, in her arms, standing right under the podium.

"Yeah… how could I not win with her around." I smiled.

"Little unfair advantage…" Oscar joked.

"Make your own lucky charm then." Max laughed.

"Hell no. I’m not ready for that!"

"Believe me. You’ll never be, it just works out magically…" I smiled when he was called out on the podium, followed by Max.

I took one last deep breath and stepped out, the cheering of the crowd almost deafening. But when I stepped onto the highest podium, I looked down. Lizzie and Emmie. Both smiling. Both beautiful. Both cheering louder than anyone else.

"DADDY! DADDY!" I heard her sweet voice carrying all the way up to me, almost jumping out of Lizzie’s arms.

I waved at her, blew her a kiss and her smile got even bigger.

"MY DADDY IS WINNER!" she continued and I felt tears well up. Happy tears.

Win or not today. I already won in life. Big time.

May 2027:

Emmie sat up and looked towards the door, her face lighting up.

"Dada!" she looked at me with her big eyes, clapping excitedly as soon as she heard Charles voice.

"Yes, baby girl, dada is home!" I smiled and she giggled happily, scrambling up on her feet, takings some cautious steps towards the door.

"Dada, I comes!" she screeched and made her way to the door.

I laughed and followed her into the hallway where I saw Arthur kneeling down opening his arms, Emmie slowly waddling towards him. The look on her face changed and she scrunched her nose adorably, realising that something wasn’t right. I heard her sigh and shaking her head slightly.

"You not dada." her voice full of disappointment.

"No, Emmie girlie, I’m not dada." Arthur chuckled "Can I still get a hug from my favourite niece?"

"Only niece." Charles said, appearing behind his brother and Emmie’s face lit up instantly.

"Dada!" she screeched happily, bolting towards her dad, ignoring Arthur’s open arms entirely.

"Ouch…" he mumbled and got up, watching how Charles picked up our little girl.

"Hey baby girl." he smiled at her but Emmie cupped his cheeks, studying his face intently, as to make sure that it was really her dada. Charles grinned, letting his baby girl turn his head to all sides.

"You dada!" she smiled after a while and Charles nodded, kissing her chubby cheeks. Emmie giggled and threw her little arms around his neck, cuddling him.

"Yes, I’m dada. I missed you so much, my little princess." Charles whispered, hugging her close, when Emmie pulled away, pointing at Arthur.

"You not dada!" she said accusatory and he sighed.

"No, Emmie, I’m not dada."

"You Arthie!" Emmie smiled a little and he nodded "My Arthie."

"Your Arthie."

"Dada… Arthie kissie." she looked at Charles with her big eyes and he laughed, walking towards his brother, so that Emmie could lean over, kissing Arthur’s cheek "Hi, my Arthie." she smiled and Arthur kissed her head in return.

"Only your Arthie." he smiled.

"But not dada." Emmie shrugged her shoulders, looking at Charles, smiling adorably.

"No. Not dada, I get it." Arthur shook his head and I laughed.

"Don’t be offended, as soon as Charles comes in, I’m forgotten as well. She’s such a daddy’s girl."

"Just like her mum, she’s crazy for me, what can I say?" Charles laughed, walking up to me, kissing me "Hi, cara mia. You look gorgeous today... you’re glowing!"

"Mama pwetty." Emmie chirped and Charles nodded.

"Mama super pretty, just like my little Emmie." he cooed at her, making her chubby cheeks turn pink "And now you’re blushing just like your mama." she giggled and hid her face in his neck and he sighed contently "You have no idea how happy I am to be back home."

I woke up from Emmie’s faint crying, hastily scrambling up, just to see that Charles was already leaving the room. I sat up, switching the light on, listening into the now quiet penthouse. A couple of moments later, the soft thuds of Emmie’s steps towards our bedroom made me smile. She poked her head around the corner, looking into the room, sighing happily when she saw me and then bolted straight for the bed. I pulled her up, sitting her in my lap and tugged some wild strands of hair out of her face, behind her ears.

"What is it princess? Did you have a bad dream?" I cooed and she nodded.

"Bad fishies…" she mumbled and I kissed her forehead "They meanies."

"What did the bad fishies do?"

"Didn’t lets me play."

"No! How rude!" I gasped and she nodded.

"Emmie?" Charles looked through the door and then smiled "Hey, I was looking for you. I’ve got your princess cup…" he walked over, handing her her little cup and she grabbed it happily, drinking some water "Come on. I’ll get you back to bed and then I’ll tell you what to do next time those fishies are mean!" he held out his hand but Emmie cuddled up into my chest.

"Nu-uh…" she shook her head a little, handing me her cup and I put it down on the night stand.

"Nu-uh?" Charles repeated and she pulled away, sliding down my lap, onto the bed.

"I sleeps here." Emmie patted the mattress next to her, already making herself comfortable.

"Yeah?" Charles asked and she nodded, pulling the blanket up.

"Lightses off." she said and I had to chuckle "Pwease?"

"Can I get in bed before mum switches off the light? I don’t want to stub my toe…" Charles walked around the bed, laying down "Alright." he pulled up the blanket and snuggled into the sheets before he pulled Emmie over, cradling her against him, making her giggle.

"Lightses off now?" her voice muffled.

"Lightses off now." Charles confirmed and I switched off the light, scooting a little closer.

"Good night, my cute little Emmie." I whispered against her head, kissing her.

"Nighty mama." she yawned and Charles kissed her forehead "Nighty dada."

"Good night, my princess." he whispered and then looked up, smiling at me "Good night, my queen."

July 2027:

Pregnant. The second test showing the same result. The mood swings, stomach bugs, my overly emotional state at times, it all made sense now.

"Whats dis?" Emmie asked, looking at the test in my hand "Is it toy?"

"No girlie, no toy…" I breathed out and she scowled a little.

"Why no toy?"

"Because not everything is a new toy for you."

"Dada always buys toys…"

"Yeah, because dada can’t resist your puppy eyes!" I chuckled, looking down at her.

"New puppy for Emmie?"

"No. Not a new puppy for you. It’s- umm well it’s… it’s something for mum and dad." I smiled at her "But you know what? It’s not a toy, but you’ll be able to play with it still in some time…"

She happily clapped her hands, beaming up at me.

"Tank you Mama for new toy."

"Not a toy, Emmie." I leaned down, cupping her cheek "A little brother or sister…"

"You’re pregnant?"

I flinched and looked up at Charles standing in the bathroom door frame, wide eyed, looking at me.

"Umm…" I grabbed the pregnancy tests and handed him the two sticks "Yeah…"

"We’re having another baby?" Charles breathed out, his eyes wandering between the tests in his hand, me and then Emmie on the floor.

"Looks like it…" I said quietly "Is that okay? I mean-… we talked about it… but never about the when…"

"It’s perfect, cara mia…" he stepped closer, cupping my cheeks "We’re having another little one…" he kissed me and Emmie got up, pinching his leg.

"Want kissie too." she pouted and Charles picked her up, tickling her belly.

"You’re going to be a big sister, princess. Are you excited? You’re getting a little brother or sister!" he cooed at her kissing her chubby cheeks.

"Big sis-sissie?" she tilted her head a little.

"Big sister, munchkin." I said slowly.

"Big sista…" she repeated and I smiled.

"That’s it. Well done pretty girl." Charles kissed her cheek again "You’re going to be an amazing big sister, I just know it!"

"The bestest!" she chirped.

"The best, girlie. It’s just the best."

"Na-uh… bestest." she shook her head and cuddled into Charles chest "Bestest, bestest, bestest."

"Okay… bestest is it- for now." he said and Emmie giggled, kissing his cheek, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Emmies always right." she said and I laughed.

"She’s 100 per cent your daughter!" Charles and I said in unison and then laughed even more.

"Daddy, down pwease." Emmie said and Charles sat her down "Arlooo… me’s a be big sista…" she shouted, running away.

"Ready for another one?" I asked and Charles grabbed me by the waist, pulling me close.

"Another little trouble maker? I can’t wait… I think we can handle two…" he kissed me and then leaned his forehead against mine "I love you, cara mia. You, Emmie and the little one in your belly… I can’t wait for another baby…"

"Then I call the doctor for an appointment…" I whispered and he nodded.

"I want to be here for the first ultrasound…" Charles whispered back and I smiled.

"I’ll make sure of it… even if it might take a little longer then." I pecked his lips and he smiled.

"And there… oh there they are!" the nurse said and my eyes widened.

"They?" I asked and Charles looked confused.

"Yes, here we have baby number one and here is baby number two. Congratulations, you’re having twins!" the nurse smiled.

"Twins?" Charles repeated.

"Yes, Mr. Leclerc, you and your wife are having twins!" she nodded.

"How?" he asked and the nurse laughed.

"Happened the same way like it did with your daughter…" she chuckled and got up "I’ll leave you alone. If you’re dressed come up to the front desk."

"Charles, hey? Pretty boy, are you alright?" I asked as Charles sat next to me, visibly panicking.

"Twins, cara mia! Twins! I barely kept Emmie alive! How am I supposed to take care of two babies at the same time?" he said with a worry laced voice.

"Did I miss something?" I chuckled and Charles looks at me confused "Am I leaving and you’re alone with them? Besides, 'barely kept Emmie alive'? Charles you were born to be a dad! You were so very good at it, you know how jealous I was at times!"

"Yeah for absolute no reason…" he rolled his eyes a little and I sighed.

"We both did good, okay? Emmie turned out just great and with these two it will be just the same…" I cupped his cheek, rubbing circles on it "It’s going to be fine… okay?"

"Twins, cara mia… can you believe it?" he whispered and I sighed a little.

"I’m going to get so huge… blue whale like…" I mumbled.

"Beautiful. You’re going to be so freaking beautiful. Like you always are, just with a little more-…"

"… fat on the ribs and basically everywhere?" I groaned.

"Hey, stop that!" he pinched my waist "I wanted to say just with a little more of that gorgeous glow you had when you were pregnant with Lizzie… you’re going to be the most beautiful girl out there cara mia… you and Emmie of course." he kissed me and I had to smile.

"Three little rascals…"

"Three little rascals…"

May 2031:

"Why do you look so nervous?" Lizzie asked and I shook my head slightly "She’ll be fine…"

"How do you know?"

"Because she’s our daughter?" she chuckled and I rolled my eyes "She’ll be fine." she said again, cupping my cheek "You taught her everything she needs to know."

"I hope so…" I said underneath my breath and watched as the race director waved the flag, signalling for the race to start.

I closed my eyes and took one last deep breath before I watched the race unfold before our eyes. Emmie was fearless as well as ruthless, making up 5 positions in the first few corners.

"Fucking hell…" Arthur let out next to me, his eyes widening in horror when he heard the loud gasp from Elio on his shoulders.

"Arthi said bad word!" he chirped and I glared at Arthur.

"Yes Arthur, you said a very bad word!"

"Fucking hell!" Enzo said proudly, leaning his back against Lizzie, swinging his dangling legs back and forth.

"Enzo!" Lizzie warned him and he rolled his eyes groaning "Mister!"

"Fucking hell…" he repeated and Arthur mouthed an apology towards me.

"Enzo Doetterer-Leclerc. Stop it." I picked him up from the banister he was sitting on, making him look at me "No bad words. And no bad attitude."

"Yous boring." he mumbled, poking my cheek "Arthi funny."

"Nope, little man. I said a bad word. We don’t say bad words. Mum and Dad are right." Arthur tried it and Enzo sighed.

"Yous boring too."

"And you’re a little menace." I tickled his sites, making him giggle.

"Stop! Paps stop!" he laughed but I kept going "Not saying bad wordses again! Pomis!"

"You promise me?" I stopped, looking at him and he nodded.

"Pomis."

"Okay, now let’s watch your sister…"

"… winning her first race…" Lizzie finished and I followed her look, watching Emmie starting her last lap, a huge gap between her and the rest.

The moment Emmie crossed the finish line and stopped her kart, she jumped out, running towards us, happily screaming.

"I won! I won! Did you see that? I wooon!" she pulled her helmet off, hairs standing up in all directions "I WON!"

"You did amazing, Ems!" Arthur pinched her cheek a little and she chuckled.

"Did you see that?" Emmie looked at me and I nodded, hugging her.

"You were amazing princess!"

"We’re so proud of you!" Lizzie bend down, kissing her cheek "So, so proud."

Emmie smiled and wiped her face with a towel Lizzie handed her and then grinned.

"I kicked the boys asses." she chuckled and Lizzie pressed her lips into a thin line, trying her best not to laugh "They didn’t even had a chance."

"You’re a menace too." I said and Arthur laughed.

"Look what you guys did. Created 3 little menaces to the society." he nudged my shoulder.

"That we did."

May 2033:

I watched the twins getting into their race gear. Both with a big smile on their faces, chatting overly excited with Arthur and Pops.

"Dad?" Emmie poked my side and I looked down at her "Mummy is looking for you. She’s talking to Maxie."

"Please tell me you said Maxie to him…" I chuckled and she grinned "Good girl. Go help your brothers we’ll be there any minute." I kissed her head and she sauntered off, pinching her brothers as soon as she was close enough.

I looked around, finding Lizzie and Max standing at the exit, talking away.

"Hi Maxie." I said, chuckling when he rolled his eyes.

"Your kids can call me that, you? Definitely not."

"Oh come on, Maxie. Don’t be a party pooper."

"Lizzie, tell your husband to stop." Max looked at her and she just held up her hands.

"I didn’t want to get dragged in between you almost 30 years ago, I don’t want to get dragged between you now. You two are big boys. Behave." she chided and I laughed.

"I’ll tell you something. I’m only allowed to call you Maxie if I win the title this year, equalling with your 5 titles."

"Deal." Max said with not hesitation and I cocked an eyebrow "Mate your car is… well it’s not shit like at some seasons in the past… god just think back at 2023-…"

"Or 2020!" Lizzie added.

"My point is. 8 races in and you won how many? One? Only Monaco… I mean…" he shrugged.

"Just out of spite I have to win now." I said and Lizzie laughed.

"Look what you made him do…"

"You should’ve just retired like me last season." Max said, scratching his chin but I shook my head.

"No, I could feel that I have one more title in me. And I’ll win it, to prove you wrong. And then I’ll call you Maxie all the damn time." I punched his arm and he laughed.

"Alright. If you say so… for now I want to see our boys race. Let’s go." he said and I nodded, taking Lizzie’s hand.

"Let’s just hope these boys are not like you two…" she chuckled and Max and I looked at her "What? You were track terrors… and whoever got caught in between you two? Yeah no…"

"You were worse than us!" I chuckled and Max nodded.

"Yeah… if all, we have to hope that they are not like you!" he said and Lizzie glared at us "Oh… there it is, the Lizzie-death-glare… I wish I could say I’m not scared but… that would be a lie."

"Yeah, now imagine being married to her!" I said and Lizzie pinched my side.

"If you boys are ready now? There are 3 boys about to race and I don’t want to miss that…" she stomped away and I sighed.

"You know that I’ll have to pay for that back at home…" I chuckled and Max laughed, following Lizzie.

I sat down next to Lizzie on the bleachers, Emmie, Arthur and Juergen in front of us. Max sat down next to us and we watched excitedly the race start. Enzo leading into turn 1.

"He’s really good." Max commented and I smiled proudly.

"That he is."

"Just like his dad…" Lizzie said, and I threw my arm around her shoulder pulling her close.

"And like his mum!" I kissed her cheek, watching Enzo increasing the gap "But damn he’s fast…"

"That’s because he’s fearless… look, he’s almost not braking at all in the corners…" Arthur said.

He was right. Enzo was fearless, going into corners almost at full speed, dive bombing later than anyone I’ve ever seen. He won the race by such a big margin that he already had parked his kart and got out when Max’ son, Eric, parked behind him, followed by Elio.

"What a race…" Max clapped his hands and got up, and we walked down to our sons "Arthur is right, you know? Enzo is fearless…"

"He is. Not sure I like that…" I replied and he chuckled a little.

"Yeah… I feel you…"

"But then again. If he continues like this? He could make it pretty far…" I said as we stepped on the track, Enzo, Eric and Eli joking around.

"Yeah, if he wants to." Max said, taking Eric’s helmet "Hey buddy, good race."

"Yeah, couldn’t catch Enzo though… he’s crazy…" Eric said and Enzo chuckled, handing me his helmet "You drive into the corners without braking!"

"That’s how you win!" Enzo shrugged his shoulders and I chuckled.

"Or end up in a wall." Elio said and his brother rolled his eyes.

"It won’t happen, your brother is not stupid." I said and Lizzie chuckled next to me.

"Yeah… he’s not his dad…" she said and Max and Arthur began to laugh.

"Very funny…" I rolled my eyes when the race director waved at us "Boys, you’re needed…"

I ruffled the boys hair and they ran off, stepping on the little makeshift podium. It was the seventh race of the season and already the sixth win for Enzo, who got better each week. He jumped excitedly up and down on the top step on the podium waving at us happily.

"Look at him… he reminds me so much of you…" Juergen said, standing next to me "Whenever you were on the podium you were super giddy and couldn’t contain your excitement."

"He loves it… racing, the speed, the adrenaline, winning… Elio on the other hand…" I began and he nodded.

"He loves it too, but for him it’s more a hobby… while for Enzo… it’s everything."

He was right. Elio had fun. He enjoyed karting. But apart from the track, his mind wasn’t occupied with karting, not like his brothers, who couldn’t stop talking about karting, or racing in general. Enzo lifted his trophy over his head and cheered happily, waving at us and I smiled.

"Look dad! Another one!" he screeched, running over to us.

"Soon you’ll need a whole trophy cabinet!" I said and he nodded.

"Or I can put them next to yours and mum’s trophies in your trophy room?" he looked at me with big eyes, when Elio joined us, smiling shyly, presenting his smaller trophy.

"I tell you what, both of you, and Emmie, get a shelf in our trophy room…" I said and they both beamed up at me, running off again.

"You have a trophy room? Like… seriously?" Max asked and Lizzie cocked an eyebrow.

"Where? In our penthouse? You mean your office/ studio/ storage room? Where all of our trophies are kept in boxes?" she asked and I laughed.

"I mean… we could turn it into a trophy room." I shrugged my shoulders and she laughed.

"Sure. You do that…" she replied and I groaned "Your idea, you told your kids, so you do that…"

"Pops?" I looked at Juergen who just chuckled.

"Sure, I’ll help you… and maybe you can put your fifth world champion trophy in at the end of the year…"

"Let’s hope so…"

June 2038:

I watched as Emmie practically beamed at him, hanging at his lips, soaking in every word he said. I groaned a little and Lizzie looked up from adjusting Enzo’s helmet.

"What?" she asked and followed my look, then she chuckled.

"Do you see how she looks at him? She’s too young for these kinda looks!" I muttered.

"Charles, she has a crush on him! At her age I already had a huge crush on you too!" she laughed but I shook my head.

"That’s different… we knew each other for almost 5 years at her age! And I wasn’t so… so…" I rambled and Lizzie laughed even more.

"So what?" she asked and I sighed.

"So slimy! God, look how he laughs!" I groaned.

"Enzo, you’re all good, why don’t you go to Arthur, he’ll help you with your kart…" Lizzie send Enzo away "Love? She’s 13. She has a crush on Nick. That’s it. They won’t get married tomorrow. So relax, please."

"He won’t marry her in 10 years either! Never. I don’t like that boy!" I huffed out and Lizzie rolled her eyes. Both watching as Emmie put her helmet on, walking towards Enzo and Arthur. "Alright. I’ll be right back."

"Charles! Be nice!" Lizzie whisper shouts at me as I made my way over to Nick, but I just waved her off. The boy was about to grab his helmet as I grabbed it first, handing it to him.

"Here you go…" I said and Nick made big eyes.

"Th-thank you Mr. Leclerc…" he stuttered and I smiled at him. As he put his helmet on and sat down in his kart I crouched down next to him.

"That’s a nice kart you’re having. Looks fast." I said with an overly friendly voice.

"My dad and uncle worked on it together." he said nervously and I nodded.

"I saw you talking to Emmie, yeah, you know, she’s a tough girl. Ruthless on track. Very talented. Fast." I stated casually, checking his engine out "But you see, no matter how old she is, she’ll always be my little princess… and if everyone were to hurt her, make her sad, god forbid, break her heart? Make her cry… oh well."

"I don’t know what you mean… Emmie is… she’s great… but I didn’t…" he began to ramble but I just held up my hand, making him stop abruptly.

"What I’m saying, Nick, is… that’s a really nice kart you’re having… if you want to keep it that way… you better be as sweet as honey to my Emmie…" I smiled at him and got up "Because during these karting races accidents happen so fast…" I gently closed his visor "Good luck, Nick!" I said loudly and Lizzie looked over, smiling at me.

She didn’t have to know everything that I’m doing.

July 2037:

I watched as the kids cuddled him, one by one. Scratching his ears. Showering him with kisses.

"What did the doctor say?" Lizzie whispered and gently stroked by back, holding my hand.

"He won’t make the night. He said we should give him all his favourite treats…" I answered, voice broken and hoarse.

"I can stay with you? Lorenzo and Charlotte can pick up the kids and I stay with you and then we’ll go tomorrow together…" she began but I shook my head.

"You should be with them, they shouldn’t be alone…" I whispered and Lizzie nodded, kissing my cheek, wiping away some stray tears.

She walked down the lawn, sat down next to the kids and cuddled Arlo. His ears immediately stood up, of course, his mum was there. After a while they all said their final goodbyes, coming back in, Emmie hugged me immediately.

"You’ll stay with him, right? He won’t be alone?" she cried and I nodded.

"He won’t be alone, no. Not a single moment." I kissed her head and the twins squeezed right into our hug.

"Will he be in pain?" Elio’s voice barely above a whisper.

"No, little one. The doc gave him some medicine. He won’t feel anything. He will fall asleep…" I began and Enzo cried out.

"And then he won’t wake up anymore?" he asked and I nodded.

"He won’t." I swallowed hard and Lizzie gave Arlo one last kiss, then walked inside.

"We have to go now, come on. Dad will take care of our good boy." her voice was laced with tiny sobs. The kids slowly pulled away and I kissed them one by one on the forehead as they headed into the foyer, grabbing their bags.

"Will you be okay?" Lizzie whispered, pulling me into a tight embrace and I felt tears streaming down both our faces.

"Yeah… I’ll see you tomorrow…" one last kiss and she left with the kids.

I took a deep breath and walked outside, sat down next to Arlo on the soft lawn, the setting sun shining softly above us. He held up his head, tilting it a little and it reminded me of the day where I brought him home to our old flat. How I couldn’t tame him and knew that he would be a piece of work. All those years ago. Lizzie’s eyes, when she saw him, lighting up. The tears she cried. Happy tears. So many happy tears. The moments when Lizzie was pregnant first with Emmie, later with the twins. How protective Arlo was. Always looking out for his mum. Always putting his head on her belly. I scratched him behind his ears and he closed his eyes. Laying his head in my lap.

"Good boy. My Arlo. You can rest now. You took care of your mum and the kids whenever I couldn’t be here. Thank you, my sweet boy. I love you." I leaned down, kissing his head. I could hear his breathing becoming more shallow with every breath he took. I kept on stroking his soft fur. Giving him belly rubs. Kissing his head. Thinking about all the memories our little fur baby gifted us with. "I will miss you, Arlo. I love you. So much!" I whispered after a while and looked down. Watching closely. He wasn’t breathing anymore. Realising that he was gone "Goodbye, my Arlo."

September 2041:

"What’s up?" I asked, looking at Charles who just walked in "You look like you’ve seen a ghost?"

"That was John… he offered me the position as director of the FDA… starting next season…" Charles said and Enzo looked up from his iPad.

"Oh wow! Congrats Charles!" I got up from the barstool and kissed his cheek.

"Thanks…" he mumbled and I looked at him.

"You don’t sound too happy? You don’t want to do it?" I asked, but he shook his head.

"No, of course I’m happy. It’s just…" he stopped and looked at Enzo.

"I have to work now even harder… or people will say that I only got into the FDA because of you…" he said and Charles nodded.

"But that’s ridiculous. Everyone can see how talented you are. Also, you’re only 13… you won’t make it into the FDA for the next two or three years anyways…" I said, patting his arm but he sighed.

"Your mum is right, Enzo. Also, just because someone is in the FDA, doesn’t grant them a seat in a car." Charles said and I nodded.

"Yeah… sure." Enzo smiled and got up, hugging him "Congrats dad." he then grabbed his iPad and left the kitchen.

"Hey? It’s going to be just fine, okay? He’s talented. One of the best, if not the best… no one will think otherwise." I snaked my arms around Charles neck, pulling him closer "I’m so proud of you, my pretty boy."

"Thanks, cara mia." he smiled and kissed him, then he leaned his forehead against mine and he exhaled loudly "He really is the best right now… if he continues like this? Prema is already interested, also Carlin…"

"See? And that all without your help…"

"It’s 50% of my DNA in him, so I’d say a little of my help…" he laughed and I shook my head.

"You’re an idiot… but a cute one… so, yeah… that’s fine…"

"Okay… what’s going on here?" Enzo asked after a while, looking at Elio then at me "You said that there is something important we need to talk about, now we’re sitting here for ten minutes and nothing happened… I could sit in the simulator, you know?"

"Enzo!" I glared at him and he rolled his eyes a little.

"Sorry. But-… whatever." he groaned, crossed his arms and leaned back in the sofa.

"Elio, sweetheart? What is it?" Lizzie asked him quietly, smiling at him and he looked at me.

"It’s okay, take your time…" I encouraged him and he took a deep breath, closing his eyes.

"Maybe not that much time, Nick is going to pick me up in… half an hour." Emmie said, looking at her phone.

"Nick?" I looked at her and Lizzie shook her head "And where are you and Nick going?"

"To Clara, she’s having a party with drugs and alcohol." Emmie rolled her eyes and I glared at her "We’re just going to the movies…"

"To the movies?" I repeated and she nodded.

"Charles? We’re here because of Elio, remember? So… focus." Lizzie said and I knew that tone.

"Can Elio then please speak up?" Enzo said and Emmie nodded.

"Yeah, I’m not done with my hairs yet…"

"Guys!" Lizzie and I said.

"I’m gay." Elio blurted out and the silence was loud.

He looked at me, then Lizzie, Emmie, both smiling, and lastly Enzo, who didn’t react at all.

"That’s wonderful, sweetheart. Thanks for telling us!" Lizzie got up and kissed his cheek, followed by Emmie, who hugged him.

"You’re damn brave, little bro." she chuckled and he smiled at her.

Enzo still didn’t react and I was about to say something, when Elio beat me to it.

"Zo?" he asked quietly.

"What? I thought you would tell us a secret or something?" Enzo replied and we looked at him.

"What do you mean?" Elio asked.

"You think I didn’t knew? We shared a womb, dumbass? I think I knew it before you knew it yourself. My point is. More girls for me, because now all the girls who like the tortured poet that is you, will come to me now… thanks for that, El." Enzo got up, clapped his brothers back and walked away "I’m in the sim… Singapore is next…"

"Unbelievable…" Emmie shook her head, kissing Elio’s cheek "Love you." then she was gone as well.

"Umm- I guess that’s it then?" Elio shrugged, following Emmie.

"That was…" I began but then shrugged.

"Well, they’re clearly your kids…" Lizzie chuckled "Or at least Enzo through and through…"

"Not gonna argue with that."

Monaco 2046:

"Why are you so nervous?" Emmie put down her headphones, watching Enzo anxiously replaying old videos from the Monaco Grand Prix "You know those streets better than anyone else? Dad used to drive the track with us almost daily when we were younger…"

"It’s not the same like in an F2 car! Especially after having 3 shitty races in a row… and after all it’s Monaco… not the easiest track for our family…" he mumbled and Charles rolled his eyes a little.

"Ooouuuhhh you touched there a sore spot, Enzo." I said and Charles glared at me "Oh don’t look at me like that."

"You should’ve never mentioned this stupid statistic…"

"First of all, I didn’t mention anything, it’s all over the internet and second of all, it’s not a statistic, it’s a curse-…" I began but he interrupted me.

"Curses don’t exist! You’re all too superstitious."

"Oh really? We are superstitious?" I cocked an eyebrow and our kids looked between us.

"Yeah, you are, curses don’t exist, stupid rituals or whatever don’t help… it’s just about you and the car and your abilities… nothing else!"

"Says the guy who wore red pants on every quali day because he wore red pants when he got his first pole."

"That was not because of that…" Charles protested but one look and he stopped.

"And then stopped wearing red pants on quail day because during a shitty season 2023, when nothing worked out for him he once didn’t wear red pants on quali day and got pole position… the next time he forgot them, he got pole position again and from then on he never wore red pants on quali day…"

"Whatever." Charles groaned and I had to chuckle.

"Just admit it, you were just as superstitious like the rest of us!"

"Nope." he shook his head.

"Oh come on dad, not even a little?" Emmie looked at him, big puppy eyes on full display.

"I mean… I just don’t believe in it…" he sighed.

"Maybe that’s the topic of my next podcast? Drivers and their rituals and superstitions?" she thought and I nodded.

"That would be interesting! You should talk to Arthur, he also had a weird ritual…" I smiled at Emmie and she already scribbled something down in her little notebook.

"Didn’t uncle Arthur also crash out in Monaco?" Elio asked, looking up from his phone and I nodded "But you didn’t? Not in F2 not in F1?… well maybe it’s just a Leclerc curse then… therefore Enzo you’re cursed."

"Okay, stop that now!" Charles rolled his eyes, glaring at me "Look what you’ve started!"

"Me? I didn’t start shit!" I said

"Language!" Enzo, Emmie and Elio said in unison, cackling away.

"Very funny…"

"Hey, you made us watch that old movie! What was it called? Aviators?" Elio asked.

"Avengers." Charles and I said and he grinned at me.

"Same thing." Elio mumbled.

"We kinda lose the plot here! Dad’s Monaco curse and Enzo shitting his pants driving here." Emmie wiggled her eyebrows at her little brother, who threw a bread roll at her.

"Enzo Doetterer-Leclerc! We do not treat food like that!" I reprimanded him.

"Sorry… but she’s egging me on! And it’s-it’s…" I saw how frustrated he was, but before I could react Elio already seemed to be having an idea.

"If it’s a Monaco curse and that only applies to Leclerc drivers… maybe you dropped the wrong last name then? Maybe for now you should go by Doetterer." he said matter of factly and I looked at Charles, his jaw clenched, a muscle ticking.

"If you want to drop my name, because you want to driver under your mums name? Fine by me. If you drop your name because of a stupid, not-existing curse… that’s something different…" he looked at Enzo who shrunk a little under his dad’s gaze.

"No one is dropping anyone’s name. You chose Leclerc, and I get it, shorter, easier to pronounce, the name of a five time world champion. Also 5 time winner of the Monaco Grand Prix! You studied the track, and now you get into your car and you focus on nothing else but the car and the track. Whatever happens then, happens." I said and Enzo sighed.

"I just want to make you guys proud…" he mumbled and Charles look softened, grabbing him by the shoulders.

"We are proud of you, Enzo! It’s not so easy coming fresh out of F3 and your fourth race in F2 is already Monaco, but you’ll manage, okay? And if not? That’s also not the end of the world… it took me years to even finish our home race…" he said and Enzo nodded slowly.

"It’s going to be fine, Enzo, you’ll see." I said and he got up.

"And if not, you’re just continuing a family tradition." Emmie laughed and walked away, dodging another bread roll.

"Don’t listen to her. Your mum is right, it’s going to be just fine." Charles smiled at Enzo who just sighed "Let’s watch the races together. Maybe I have some tips and tricks on what to do…"

"Rather on what not to do…" I chuckled quietly, a bread roll hitting me straight at the temple.

"You deserved that one…"

October 2046:

"Dad? What are you doing here?" he was surprised, I could tell.

"I wanted to see your work." I answered simply and he looked at me confused "Jo told me that you asked him for advice, what pictures to choose. And then I found the flyer in the rubbish bin. Crumpled."

"I mean, I know how busy you are with the FDA and Enzo in F2 now, preparing for F1 next season." he mumbled and I just shook my head.

"Elio, I’ll always make room for you and your passion. If I know about it…" I said and he nodded sheepishly.

"I know… it’s just that…" he began but then stopped.

"That what?" I asked and he sighed.

"I just thought that this is nothing that would interest you… I mean Emmie is studying sports journalism. Has her F1 podcast and blog, everyone loves her and she has so many subscriptions! Enzo is stepping right into yours and mums shoes, starting in F1 next year. And me? I’m not in any way like them. I like F1. As a fan to watch. But that’s it. I just thought that…" he said and now I sighed.

"You thought what? That I wouldn’t be proud of you, wouldn’t be interested in what you’re doing because it’s not F1 related?" I asked and he nodded and looked down "How many times do I have to tell you, that I’m proud of you, no matter what! Any passion of yours, is something I’m interested in, Elio."

He swallowed hard and looked up, then he turned a little, pointing behind him.

"Do you want to see my pictures?" he asked and I nodded excitedly.

"Did you know, when I was younger I was also really interested in photography! I just wasn’t as talented as you!" I said and he looked at me.

"I didn’t know that…" he replied and then pointed at the 5 pictures in front of us.

One showing Lizzie and me in our garden, another one was from Enzo as he was breezing past me and Emmie in the feature race of the last Monaco GP, the one in the middle a shot of an old F1 car engine, one from a wild and rough countryside, the last one a busy street in London, with Emmie in front, pointing at something.

"Wow Elio, these are amazing…" I whispered, taking a step closer.

The photographs were impressive. The colours. The contrast. The lighting. I loved every single one.

"Thanks dad… for being here…" Elio said after a while and I looked at him.

"This is what you should do, you know? I think you could be an amazing photograph…" I said and he smiled.

"Yeah… maybe I will one day…"

I left my office, heading downstairs when Stella, John Elkann’s assistant bumped into me.

"Sorry Stella, didn’t see you." I smiled apologetically.

"It’s fine Mr. Leclerc-…"

"Charles. I told you before, it’s just Charles…"

"Charles, of course. Umm do you have a minute?" she asked and I nodded.

"Sure, what’s the matter?"

"Mr. Elkann wants to talk to you. I sent you an invitation for a meeting next week, but we came here this morning on a whim and you know Mr. Elkann…" Stella smiled at me and I followed her.

"Yeah, if you can do it now, do it." I nodded "Do you know about what this meeting is?"

"Umm- I do… but it’s better if he tells you this…" she said shyly and I got nervous "Oh it’s nothing bad!"

"You sure? The big boss comes in just to chat?" I said and she smiled.

"You’ll see. He’s waiting for you." she knocked on the office door and opened it, letting me in.

"Charles, good to see you!" John got up from his chair and hugged me "How are you? The kids? Lizzie?"

"We’re all good, thanks." I smiled, still a little nervous.

"Enzo must be excited, now that he has a seat in F1 next year. It was only logical that we would want our best driver from the academy, soon to be F2 champion in our junior team in F1 next season."

"Yeah, he’s really excited. He is really grateful for this chance, I mean, we all are of course."

"He’ll make us proud, I have no doubt in that."

I smiled and nodded only.

"Okay, I make this quick, I don’t want you to have a heart attack. Charles, you did an amazing job as the director of the FDA, but now we think it’s time for someone new…" he began and I felt my stomach twisting "… because we would like you to step up and become the new team principal of Ferrari."

"Sorry what?" I was confused.

"We want you as team principal for the Scuderia Ferrari, starting next season."

"Me? As team principal? Ferrari. The F1 team?" I almost stuttered and he nodded.

"Yes. You’re the right one for the job. You know the team, the sport. You know how it works. We believe you’ll be amazing… so? What do you say?" John looked at me hopefully and I tilted my head a little.

"If I agree, I have one condition…" I said slowly.

"Of course. What is it?" he asked and I began to smirk.

"Monza. All black suit. All black car. And I mean all black. Not some weird grey patterns on black. Or some black car parts. All black. I’ve been deprived of it my whole career, when I wanted nothing more than to drive an all black car, wearing an all black suit…" I said and John looked at me for a moment before he laughed, leaning back in his chair.

"Oh how I remember the disappointment in your eyes when they showed you the suit for Monza 2025?-…"

"2024… and then 2027 again…" I added.

"… yeah. You hated the 2024 suit. And the livery…" he finished wiping tears away.

"I thought 2023 was bad… but that topped it I think…" I shrugged my shoulders.

"Alright Charles, Monza is black. But not every year, no? But the upcoming season for sure. Do we have a deal then?" he got up, buttoning his jacket close as I got up as well.

"We have a deal." I said shaking his hand.

"Well then it’s official, Charles Leclerc, new team principal of Scuderia Ferrari."

January 2047:

"Elio? There's a letter for you." I put it down in front of him, walking around the kitchen island "Are you coming to Enzo's first race?"

"Huh?" Elio looked up from the envelop in his hands "What?"

I chuckled a little, beginning to slice up some apples, watching him tilting his head a little reminding me of Charles.

"Are you coming to Enzo's first race? I know you're not that into F1 anymore, but I think Enzo wants you there.. it's also your dad's first race as team principal of Ferrari and I know for a fact that he would definitely love to have you there." I smiled at him, and he rubbed his neck, looking nervous "What's going on?"

"Oh umm-it's just… do you remember how I applied for the Parsons School of Design in New York? Studying there would be a dream, although... I mean, chances were little that they even consider me, comparing my photography to those of others? But... mum, they want me.. I'm in..." Elio whispered, and I dropped the knife "I mean... I applied there on a whim, I first need to cheek for scholarships because it's freaking expensive and-..." he began to ramble and I walked back around the island, stopping in front of him.

"I’m so proud of you, Elio. Wow! This is amazing!" I cupped his cheek, kissing it, watching him blush.

"Thanks mum, but it's like I said I have to check if they have scholarsh-…"

"You do know that your dad and I have a little money on the side, right?" I joked and he looked at me "You're going. No scholarship needed. It's noble from you, to think like that, but you don't need it. I'm sure, you would get a scholarship if you would apply for one, but someone might need it more than you..."

"Are you sure? It's expensive? Like really." Elio mumbled, and I laughed.

"Your dad is a 5 time Formula 1 world champion, Ferrari team principal, investor, founder and whatever of god knows what companies, I honestly lost count, and your mum, little old me, also managed to make a little fortune with clever investments and commercial deals and from driving 3 seasons in F1! So yes Elio, l'm sure. And even if not? We could always sell one or two of your dad's cars, I guess that would cover the tuition fees and everything else."

"Who wants to sell my cars for what?" Charles walked in, all sweaty, hair a mess.

"Elio has some big news..." I smiled at our son who nervously grabbed the envelop from the counter.

"Okay? Then shoot..." Charles opened the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water, looking at Elio.

"So umm-... I applied at some universities... and the Parsons School of Design, they have one of the best photography programs worldwide, they accepted me..." Elio said nervously and Charles eyes brightened in an instant.

"The Parsons School of Design in New York? Wow! Elio, I'm so proud of you! Incredible!" he exclaimed, storming over to our son, pulling him into a tight embrace "You worked so hard for this! You deserve this so much, son. I'm really, really proud of you."

"Okay, Mr. Sweaty, can you please take a shower and not smother your sweat all over our son? Thank you!" I pulled Charles away from Elio.

"Hey! I just ran 5 kilometres! Of course I'm sweaty!" he snaked his arm around my waist, pulling me closer "I have to stay in shape for you cara mia..." he then whispered, his warm breath fanning over my skin, eliciting goosebumps all over, before he kissed my jaw.

"Eww! Here are children! Behave for fucks sake!" Enzo walked into the kitchen, fake gagging "Things I don't want to see before breakfast? My parents making out in front of me like horny teenagers!"

"You're just jealous because I landed a pretty girl and you didn’t." Charles laughed, pinching my waist "I'm going to take a shower and tonight we're celebrating you Elio..." he ruffled Elio's hair and was about to leave when he stopped "I still don't know why you want to sell some of my cars?" he looked at me.

"And I don't know why we're celebrating Elio?" Enzo plopped down on the stool next to his brother, eating his cereals "What did you do?"

"You're brother was accepted at the Parsons School of Design..." I said and he made big eyes.

"Are you serious El? Fucking hell, that's one of the best schools! I know that because you talked about it for years now! Congrats little bro!" Enzo side hugged his brother who smiled shyly.

"Thanks, but hey, you're only 3 minutes older, Zo..." Elio rolled his eyes playfully.

"Semantics..." Enzo shrugged his shoulders and I continued cutting the apples.

"Hello? I still want to know why my cars are being sold?"

"It was because of the costs of the school. But don’t worry, I won’t touch your precious cars…" I chuckled and Charles tilted his head, coming closer.

"You could sell them all, just not the F40… that one is special…" he said and I rolled my eyes.

"It’s your favourite car, I know…"

"Yeah, that too… but you bought it for me… so no, that one won’t be sold ever." he whispered and then kissed me, before stepping away "I’m going to take a shower now."

"And I need to wash my eyeballs with bleach…" Enzo mumbled and I saw the mischievous look on Charles face.

"Care to join me under the shower, cara mia?" he said, looking at me challenging.

"Sounds like a good idea. It’s also good for our planet… it saves water…" I put the knife down, grabbed the plate with the apple slices and put it down in front of the twins "Eat your fruits kiddos."

"Let’s go pretty girl, let’s save our planet…" Charles grabbed my hand, pulling me with him.

"One day you have to pay for your children’s therapy!" Enzo shouted after us and we both laughed.

"That’s fine. We can sell a car for that."

Montreal 2047:

"Charles. Round 7 here in Montreal, 2 Ferrari wins, but also 2 Ferrari DNFs. What are your thoughts on the season so far?"

"I think we started out pretty well. The DNFs were unfortunate, but you have to put into account that one was due to a damage after a collision, so I’d say only our DNF in Bahrain, where we had a mechanical issue, is something we need to work on." I answered and knew already what the follow up question would be.

"The collision in Miami you mentioned, was between your driver and your son… how do you handle such a sensitive situation?"

"That’s simple. I don’t. Enzo is not my driver. He has a team principal who talks with him after the races. That’s not my job. My job as his father is to tell him he gave his all and it didn’t work out, the next time it will…"

"But he’s driving for your junior team, I’m sure you have a say as well?"

"No, I don’t. Not my team. Not my place to say something."

"So you don’t think, you should’ve said something to Enzo about his attempt to overtake your driver at a corner that simply isn’t made for that? Which caused your driver to retire from the race? Costing Ferrari precious and well needed points?"

"Again. That’s his team principals job. Not mine. I did my job as his dad and that’s it." I said with finality in my voice, hoping the reporter would understand that he wouldn’t get a different answer from me.

"Thank you, Charles."

I nodded and got out, already seeing Enzo and his group preparing for their press conference. He saw me and rolled his eyes a little and I shrugged my shoulders, walking off towards the Ferrari hospitality where Lizzie sat, going through some timetables and documents

"What a bitch!" her first words and I had to chuckle.

"What did you expect. The Spanish media never liked me… why would they start now." I sat down next to her "What’s all that?"

"That are Mira and Callie’s schedules for the next weeks… who would’ve thought that managing two Formula 1 driver and co-directing the F1 Academy was so difficult." she chuckled and I sighed.

"Yeah well… who would’ve thought that being the team principal of Ferrari would only be my secondary problem and my first one would be my son who’s not even driving for my team…"

"I’m sorry they ask you these kind of questions." Lizzie sat up, cupping my cheek "And I’m sorry that Enzo is a little… well he hates that he’s compared to you all the time, so he’s a little frustrated and you’re the one who…"

"I know. And I’m not even mad at him. I’m sorry for him. But more in a way like… I know what good of a driver he is, I mean… he didn’t win his championships for nothing, but F1 is different. The media is different, the expectations… everything. I just don’t want him to crack under all the pressure." I mumbled and Lizzie rubbed soothing circles on my cheek.

"He’ll manage, you’ll see. He just needs time… and a thick skin." she said and I nodded, right when I saw Enzo picking up his microphone and turned up the volume.

"Julia Andres, ESPN Spain, question for Enzo. Out of the 6 races of this season you already had 3 DNFs, and finished only once in the points. Do you think the criticism from other drivers such as Ward Benton or Paolo Vasquez is justified that you only have a seat in F1 because of your famous father?"

"Well, no it’s not justified, because I’m not just here because of my famous father… also because of my famous mother, who won in 3 Formula 1 seasons more races than Benton and Vasquez have won combined in over 11 seasons together." Enzo answered and some of the journalists laughed. Vasquez on the end of the right side of the sofa only clenched his jaw, glaring at him.

"So you don’t think it’s justified?"

"I worked my ass off to be here. I won every junior championship there is on the first attempt. Did I have it easier than others because I never had to think about the finances and never had to think about if I wouldn’t win the next race a sponsor might drop out and I wouldn’t have the money to continue? Yes. I know how privileged I am. I know that the chance that I have to race now in F1 is huge and I have to step up my game to prove that I deserve it. I know that better than anyone else. But to say I’m only here because of my famous last name? No. Not justified. Because right now my last name is more a curse than a blessing… everyone looks at my races, sees my name and asks themselves and that’s the son of Charles Leclerc and Lizzie Doetterer? So yeah… I know that my results aren’t promising, but I’m working hard on turning my season around…"

"Thank you Enzo…"

He smiled but I knew him better than anyone, I saw how defeated and frustrated he was, his shoulders tense.

"I want to go in there and hit them. All of them…" Lizzie was seething, seeing the pain in Enzo’s eyes.

"He handled that pretty well, better than I would have to be honest." I smiled a little and she nodded.

"Still. These kind of questions are unfair… and Benton and Vasquez? I want to hit them too…"

"It’s okay mama bear. I want to hit them too. Or run them over…" I joked and she chuckled a little, then threw all of her stuff into her bag "And now you’re leaving me to look after him… fair enough…" I got up.

"Mama bear has to look for her cub, no?" she laughed and kissed my cheek when she spotted something behind me and I turned around.

Between our motorhome and the Mercedes one all the drivers from the press conference and some more were standing huddled together, Enzo, Benton, Vasquez in the middle, looking at each other like they would kill one other any minute. I walked towards the exit and opened the door, but stopped when I heard the dispute.

"Just admit it, without your famous Dad, you wouldn’t even be here." Benton rolled his eyes.

"Yeah just that he’s a failed mini Leclerc, right?" Vasquez sneered.

"Mini Leclerc-Doetterer… and at least I’m having my parents last name, they weren’t ashamed of me… can’t say that about you and your old man, never once world champion Carlos Sainz jr." Enzo smiled, everyone now staring at Vasquez "Oh right. I forgot. No one knew who your daddy was… well oops… now they know. Now they all know how you made it to F1… because let’s face it, without your dad and his influence in Williams, you wouldn’t be here… you didn’t even drive in any junior series. Straight from karting to F3 and then without a title nothing into F1. Where you drive now for 4 seasons, and only won one race because of a penalty and two disqualifications."

"I swear to god, Leclerc, shut the fuck up or…" Vasquez began when I cleared my throat, making all the drivers flinch.

"Charles." Marco, one of my drivers said and I looked at him "They were just about to go to our teams."

"Yeah… right." Benton said, pulling Vasquez with him, who glared at me.

"Tell your dad I said hi." I shouted after him and then turned around, only Enzo left, Lizzie behind me looking at him.

"Enzo Leclerc! Do you have anything to say?" she sounded mad, but there was something else in her voice, and if I wasn’t mistaken it sounded a little like pride.

"I’m sick of them asking me the same questions again and again! I’m sick of everyone saying I’m only here because of you!" he said looking at us but I shook my head.

"You can’t listen to that, Enzo. You have to ignore it. They will use that against you again and again."

"I know, okay? But it sucks still." he mumbled and Lizzie walked towards him.

"I know Enzo, believe me when I arrived in F1 I had to go through the same… but just because they have this opinion of you, doesn’t mean that they’re right, okay? Do the talking on track. That’s what I did. And your dad as well… just don’t give a fuck about them."

"Hey!" I pinched her side and she laughed "No curse words!"

"Whatever." she rolled her eyes.

"What I’m saying is, you made it this far because of your talent. You’re a damn good driver and it’s time that you finally see that yourself, don’t give a fuck about others, and just focus on yourself. Your race. Your team. You. Don’t listen to anything else." Lizzie nudges his shoulder and I nodded.

"Your mum is right. Always when I had a shitty season and I was too much in my head everything got worse, but the moment I stopped caring about others and started focusing on myself, it was always like the penny dropped and I was able to turn the season around."

"You know how uncle Danny always said fuck 'em all? Well… that’s the kind of attitude you need now… but please stay within the rules…" Lizzie chuckled and Enzo nodded.

"Alright… you’re right. I have to focus on myself." he said and hugged Lizzie, then me "I’m sorry dad, but Marco and Lucas won’t win this weekend. It’s my turn…" he winked once and then walked off.

"Well, I guess you have to talk to your drivers…" Lizzie said and I cocked an eyebrow "They have to watch out for Enzo. If he’s like you? He’s a menace and will force them into making mistakes that he will use to overtake…"

"That was more your field of expertise…"

"Congrats Zo! Damn what a race! Emmie and I woke up the entire hotel." Elio said and Emmie next to him nodded.

"You really kicked some asses today. I’m proud little bro. Seriously. The face of Vasquez and Benton? Priceless. I swear. I can’t wait to talk about it in my next podcast. You should be one of my guests!" Emmie said excitedly and Enzo smiled from ear to ear.

"If I can say whatever I want to? Yes. No PR trained answers. Just what I have to say…"

"Enzo…" Lizzie mumbled and I laughed.

"Maybe tone it down a little, you still have to race for a while with these guys…" I said and Enzo shrugged his shoulders a little.

"How’s New York? The campus? Tell me everything!" he asked and Elio and Emmie began to describe every single detail of their trip.

I looked at Lizzie, how she smiled at our kids, squeezed into Enzo’s side so she could see Emmie and Elio on the screen. She looked up and tilted her head a little and I nodded towards the door and got off the sofa, Lizzie following me.

"What’s up?" she asked and I grabbed her by the waist, kissing her "As much as I like that, something is going on in here…" she tapped at my forehead with her fingers and I smiled.

"Marco will retire at the end of this season…" I began and her eyes widened "John wants Enzo, but only if he proves himself… today was… today was amazing, but he needs more weekends like this."

"And you doubt that he will have them?"

"No! God, cara mia!" I said immediately, shaking my head "I just don’t want to put him under too much pressure. You know? But I also want him to race every weekend like today. If he continues like this? He’ll be driving for us next season."

"You won’t tell him, right?" Lizzie asked and I shook my head.

"I wasn’t even allowed to tell you… but we have no secrets so…"

"Don’t worry, I won’t tell him. He will do just fine, you’ll see. He doesn’t need our help. Not anymore. And if so, he knows he can always come to us…"

"You’re right. He’ll manage." I kissed her cheek and looked at the sofa, where Enzo was telling Elio and Emmie everything about his final overtake of Marco.

He would make it. He would prove that he deserves a seat at Ferrari. He would do just great.

Summer 2048:

"Here, cara mia." Charles handed me a glass of wine and sat down next to me "What are you thinking about?"

"Oh nothing…" I said quietly, but he pinched my side.

"We’re married for almost 23 years, together for more than 25 years, I know you for over 40 years… I know when something is going on in there… so spill the beans…" he pulled me into him, kissing my temple.

"It’s just… Charles we’re 50… our kids are successful young adults. Emmie’s podcast is in the top 10 of the most influential Formula 1 podcasts, one of Elio’s photographs was used in the newest National Geographic magazine and Enzo just won his first race in Formula 1… isn’t it crazy?" I said and Charles was quiet for a while, before he chuckled "What?"

"It’s crazy… you’re right. But it’s wonderfully crazy, don’t you think? Our kids are truly amazing, they go their own way, are their own people, but never forget where they’re coming from…" he said and I nodded.

"Who would’ve thought that this would be our life one day…"

"Me. From the moment I realised that I was in love with you. This was what I was hoping for. You and me. 3 kids. A wonderful house you made into our home. That was the life I was dreaming of…" he whispered and I turned a little, looking at him "I told you before that from the moment I met you, you were intertwined in my brain, my thoughts, my mind, every fibre of my body. You were it for me. I know I took a stupid detour, but at the end of the day it was just that, a detour, just a stupid bump in the road to my destiny. You."

"I always loved how you were able to say things like that out of nowhere…" I smiled at him and he chuckled.

"You’re the biggest inspiration there is." he cupped my cheeks and kissed me, time stopped and for a moment it felt like our very first kiss all those years ago in Miami, after I crashed out, after Charles confessed his feelings for me. I opened my eyes and looked at him. The little freckles on his skin, the gold speckles in his eyes. The boyish smile with his gorgeous dimples. For a moment it all came back and I saw the young boy I fell in love with all those years ago before my eyes.

"I love you, Charles Leclerc."

"I love you, Lizzie Doetterer-Leclerc."

"It’s you and me. Against the world…"

"…always."

The End ♥️

And that’s it. Again, thank you all for reading. It’s been one hell of a ride. ♥️

(Also, congrats Charles on WINNING Monza!!!)

Please leave a comment/ like/ reblog/ message and tell me how you liked it! I'm dying to hear your thoughts!

Last but not least, English is not my first language and although I tried my best: please excuse any mistakes I made!

Taglist:

@itsjustkhaos @eugene-emt-roe @sunny44 @silkenthusiasts @glitterquadricorn @aundercover @kakorrhaphiphobia @alittlebitofbooksandmagic @ru-kru @shimmermotorsport @janeh22 @kahhorri @18754389 @chiliwhore @hellowgoodbye @queensassybitchsworld @harrysdimple05 @skynel09 @fangirlforever2000

[ari-ana-bel-la]

Hi Pookie

I wanted to request A Max daughter one like Max and Kelly had the baby and the reader is like 16-17 (she can drive) and she gets into a really really bad car accident (like so bad she was in a coma or something) and the hospital calls both but they don't answer since they're busy with the baby. they have been neglecting her. Until they called another driver and they went to her and like they lecture Max and Kelly.

Unanswered Calls

Part 2: Answered Calls

Yn gripped the steering wheel with shaky hands, her breathing uneven as she blinked back the sting of exhaustion. The streetlights blurred as rain splattered against the windshield, the rhythmic thudding of wipers doing little to clear her vision.

She was used to being on her own.

It wasn’t like she hadn’t asked. Earlier that afternoon, she had stood at the kitchen counter, bag in hand, waiting.

“Mom, Dad, I have ballet at six,” she had said, shifting her weight awkwardly as Kelly rocked the baby in her arms and Max tried to calm Penelope, who was throwing a fit about something.

Neither of them had even turned toward her.

“I can’t right now, sweetie,” Kelly had murmured distractedly, adjusting the baby’s tiny blanket.

“Ask your mom, I—Penelope, please, stop screaming,” Max had muttered, rubbing his temple as he tried to negotiate with his six-year-old daughter.

Yn had nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. She didn’t ask again. She was used to this—being the afterthought, the independent one, the one who didn’t need attention because she never demanded it. So she had grabbed her car keys, not trusting herself to be upset.

Now, barely an hour later, everything was going wrong.

Her tires hit a patch of water, hydroplaning before she could react. The world spun. A blaring horn. The sharp, crunching sound of metal on metal. A shock of pain. Then, blackness.

Daniel was halfway through dinner when his phone buzzed. He almost ignored it, expecting it to be some stupid spam call, but something made him glance down.

Unknown Number.

Frowning, he wiped his hands on a napkin before answering. “Hello?”

“Is this Daniel?” A woman's voice, professional but urgent. “Daniel Ric—”

“Yes, yes, who is this?” He sat up straight, suddenly alert.

“This is St. James Hospital. Your goddaughter, Yn Verstappen, was in a severe car accident. You were listed as an emergency contact. We’ve been trying to reach her parents, but—”

Daniel was already on his feet, chair scraping against the floor. “Where is she? What happened?”

“She sustained significant injuries, including lung trauma. We had to place a chest tube to assist her breathing. The doctors have decided to keep her in a medically induced sleep for a few days to help her body recover.”

His stomach twisted. “And Max and Kelly? Her parents?”

“We’ve called multiple times. No answer.”

Daniel clenched his jaw. “I’ll be there in ten.”

The hospital smelled of antiseptic and something too clean to be comforting. Daniel rushed through the corridors, his pulse hammering in his throat as he found Yn’s room.

Nothing could have prepared him for the sight.

She lay there, pale against the hospital sheets, her face bruised, her arm wrapped in gauze. Tubes ran from her chest, connected to a machine that beeped steadily.

A nurse—young, with kind eyes—stood by the bedside, adjusting the IV. She looked up as he entered. “Are you Daniel?”

He swallowed. “Yeah.”

“I’m Nurse Emily. She’s stable for now.”

He approached the bed slowly, his heart aching. “Jesus, kid…” He ran a shaky hand through his hair before sitting beside her.

For a moment, he just stared at her. Yn, who had always been so full of life, so determined to carve her own space in a world that never seemed to make room for her. Now she lay still, fragile in a way he had never seen before.

He reached out, brushing her hair from her forehead. “I’m here, Yn,” he whispered.

Emily hesitated before speaking. “You’re the first person who answered.”

Daniel frowned. “What do you mean?”

She sighed. “We called her parents over and over. No answer. No call back.”

Daniel’s hands curled into fists. “They didn’t even pick up?”

Emily shook her head. “Not once.”

Daniel let out a slow, furious breath. Then he pulled out his phone and called Max.

Voicemail.

He tried Kelly.

Voicemail.

Grinding his teeth, he left a message. “Max. Kelly. Your daughter is in the hospital. She was in a bad car accident. Call me back. Now.”

An hour passed. Nothing.

Two hours.

Three.

Four.

Yn remained unconscious, her chest rising and falling with the help of the machines. Daniel stayed at her side, his anger growing hotter with every minute.

When Max and Kelly finally walked through the door, he was ready.

Kelly looked tired. Max looked confused.

“Daniel, what’s going on?” Max asked, frowning.

Daniel stood up slowly. “What’s going on?” His voice was too calm. “You tell me, Max. Kelly. Where the hell have you been?”

Kelly blinked. “At home, we—”

“At home?” Daniel let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Your daughter has been lying in this hospital bed for hours, and you were at home?”

Max’s expression darkened. “We didn’t get any calls.”

“Bullshit.” Daniel pulled out his phone and waved it. “I called you. The hospital called you. They tried for hours. But I guess you were too busy to notice your own daughter almost died.”

Kelly paled. “Died?” Her voice wavered as she looked at Yn. “Oh my God.”

Max took a step forward, but Daniel blocked him. “Don’t.” His voice was steel. “You don’t get to come in here now and pretend you care.”

Max’s jaw clenched. “Of course we care.”

Daniel scoffed. “Do you? Because she drove herself to ballet since neither of you could be bothered. She’s seventeen, Max. A kid. But she didn’t even ask twice because she already knew the answer.”

Kelly looked away, shame creeping into her features.

Daniel continued, voice shaking with anger. “She was alone when the accident happened. Alone when they brought her here. And when the doctors needed her parents, where were you?”

Silence.

Daniel exhaled sharply. “She’s used to this, you know?” His voice was quiet now, but no less furious. “She’s used to being second to Penelope, to the baby, to everything else in your lives. She doesn’t complain. She doesn’t make a fuss. She just… deals with it.” He swallowed hard. “But this? This she couldn’t deal with alone.”

Max ran a hand down his face, guilt creeping in. “I—”

“I don’t want excuses,” Daniel snapped. “I want you to do better.”

Kelly’s eyes filled with tears. “Can we see her?”

Daniel stepped aside. “She’s been waiting long enough.”

Max walked to the bed, his hands trembling as he reached for Yn’s fingers. “Oh, sweetheart…” His voice broke.

Kelly sat on the other side, her hand covering her mouth as silent tears slipped down her face.

Daniel crossed his arms, watching.

They could cry all they wanted. But the real question was—would they change?

And for Yn’s sake, they damn well better.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoyed reading this story. My requests are always open for you. No Part 2 requests, please.

-🩷🎀

[jamminvroomvroom]

get to work.

LN x leclerc!reader

a sequel of sorts to as sick as it sounds, i loved you first - part 1 - part 2

in which lando starts the life with you that he’s always wanted

hi! me again - obsessed with these two soooo much so best believe i had to write (and will continue to write) more for them! thank you so much for continuing to read my work, ilysm and also huuuuuge shoutout to my brainrot bestie @lavenderlando because i truly could not do any of this without her xoxox lemme know what you think, likes and reblogs are aaaalways so so appreciated!

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!!! this one is kinda filthy hehe. smut, fluff, highkey breeding kink, brief switch!lando and switch!r, unprotected p in v, general sex acts in silly places, charles still having it out for lando lmao, mentions of pregnancy/family planning

7.2k words

you stare up at him, breathless, awestruck, leaning further into his touch. he’s swaying you gently to the music, ignorant to all the eyes of your nearest and dearest family and friends. fairy lights cast a warm hue over his face, leaving him golden and sparkling, gleaming with his love for you.

lando’s still pristine, suit unwrinkled, dress shirt crisp, tie straight, not yet wrecked by the party that will undoubtedly overflow all around you both as the night progresses. your dress flows out around you, fanning out in intricate layers of sharp white lace. your newly acquired wedding bands feel foreign on your fingers, but perfect nonetheless. you’re more used to it than him, though, having hauled around the giant rock of an engagement ring he’d presented you with just a few months before.

martin had been called on to be a groomsman, but he’d vouched for the DJ who’s inviting the rest of the party to join you and your husband on the dance floor. people swirl all around you, blowing kisses, squeezing your arms affectionately, but lando can’t keep his eyes off of you.

your husband.

your husband your husband your husband.

it felt just as delicious to think of him with that title as it is to say it. you say it anyway.

“my husband.” you hum, content, pressing your head to his chest, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

“my wife.” he coos down at you, pressing a lasting kiss to your hairline, cautious not to mess up your carefully crafted hair.

but it’s your wedding night, and you want to kiss him properly! you figure you’ve earned the right to kiss him anywhere, anytime, whenever, so you tilt your head back and drop his hands, pulling him down. his hands find your cheeks, cupping them ever so softly as your lips meet, loving and tender. you smile into it, and he mirrors you.

“can’t wait for everything.” you sigh, blissed out from the adoration rolling off of him in waves.

“everything?” he laughs, forehead resting on yours.

“life, with you. always.”

“i’ll give you everything you want, baby.” he promises.

you wholeheartedly believe him.

-

“better make this quick, norris.” you giggle, backing up towards the marble counter.

lando stalks towards you, grinning hungrily, and hoists you up onto the sink top, making sure not to damage your dress - not that it would be the first time he’d ruined a white dress of yours. wasn’t that how you’d both ended up here, anyway?

“sue me for wanting to fuck my wife, norris.” he mocks, mouthing at the skin of your neck. you flush. mrs norris.

“no marks.” you breathe, trying to convey a tone of warning, but it comes out needy and weak, and would have fallen on deaf ears regardless.

“but you’re all mine now, honey. forever.” lando murmurs against your jaw, and your head falls back to let him run ruin across your delicate skin. “want everyone to know it.”

you don’t protest again, spreading your legs as he ruches the material of your dress so that it bunches around your hips. his hand skates below the material, blindly feeling the satin and lace of your panties. he groans as he traces over a damp patch, sinking his teeth into the junction between your neck and your shoulder.

“soaked for me, baby. been wanting me? just had to ask.” he rambles, tugging your underwear to the side. “can have my cock whenever you want it, you know? it’s all yours.”

lando smears your wetness around with a swipe of his thumb, switching rapidly between messy circles around your clit and teasing dips into your cunt, shallow enough to make you squirm for more.

“just fuck me.” you pant, rutting your hips into his hand.

“the mouth on you, baby. filthy.” he scolds teasingly, but adheres, belt clinking and slacks dropping just enough to free himself.

he drags your hips even closer to the edge of the counter and you feel the warmth of him, hot and throbbing, ghosting over the seam of your pussy. you feel the tip of him press firmly against where you’re leaking, and a roll of his hips sheathes him deep into you smoothly.

“shit, we don’t have a condom.” his eyes fly open, finding yours. you just smirk up at him.

an earnest and vulnerable conversation in the weeks leading up to your wedding had you deciding to abandon your birth control, but you’d been using condoms ever since, not wanting any accidents in the run up to your nuptials.

“you said you wanted to get to work once we got married.” you clench around him for dramatic affect. your desire for flair makes sweat bead in his hairline. “so get to work.” you bite your lip, gazing up at him through lustful, hooded eyes.

“you’re gonna kill me, i swear.” he growls, finding a wild rhythm that makes you writhe into him.

slaps of skin echo through the bathroom, whines and cries of satisfaction and his name bouncing between the cream walls. he can’t take his eyes off of you, beautiful and spent beneath him, rutting your hips to meet his.

“i love you, lando, love you like this, mon amour.” you whimper, clinging to him. his shirt hangs wrinkled, tie loose and brushing against the skin of your chest that your dress doesn’t cover.

“i love you, too, baby. so fucking perfect for me.” lando groans, pressing a messy, open mouthed kiss to your lips. it’s all tongue and teeth, raw desire as you lick into each other. “you want me to put a baby in you already, huh? ready for me to fuck you nice and full and we’ve only be married, what, six hours?” he taunts.

“i want it, please.” you beg, softening your eyes and pouting your lips.

“my wife is such a needy slut for me, yeah, baby? gonna make me a daddy?”

a few more thrusts, and you’re undone, coating him as he stutters, fills you up. you pant into the intimate space between you both, satiated as you giggle, kiss him. you rake your hands through his sweat slicked locks, holding him close.

“we better get back.” he whispers.

“you’re dripping down my thigh.” you deadpan and he cackles, neck flexing as it does. you lick your lips subconsciously, anxious to mark the taut, tanned skin up when you have him all to yourself again.

“don’t worry, honey, i’ll clean it all up later.” he winks, and you slap his shoulder.

and when you’re curled into his side, cry laughing at max’s speech, recounting the unhinged DM you’d sent him once upon a time in qatar, you work overtime to keep your thighs clenched tight.

-

it’s 3am when you finally reach the villa, tucked away somewhere in sardinia, secluded and gorgeous. you creep around exploring while he drops your bags in the master suite, finding yourself on the back deck. from there, you can see the garden, green and ornate, bursting with flowers in shades of pinks and white. then, there’s the sea, waves crashing softly onto the white sand of your private beach. the privacy stretches on for miles in both directions, faint lights far away down the coastline.

you sigh, content, tears pricking your eyes. lando had picked this out, just for you, and his choices made it clear just how well he knows you. that’s how he finds you, wiping a stray tear, and he wraps you in his arms, his head perching on your shoulder. he breathes you in, and you feel him smile against the skin of your neck. open mouthed kisses are dotted over your shoulder and you relax fully into him, eyes fluttering shut.

“it’s so gorgeous, amour. thank you so much.” you whisper, turning your head and awaiting a kiss that quickly comes.

“don’t thank me, baby. this is the least you deserve.” he murmurs, resuming a soft suckle at your neck. you roll your eyes at his generosity. he’s so selfless sometimes that he forgets that he deserves this every bit as much as he thinks you do.

“can we go down to the shore? i’m too excited to sleep.” you giggle, and he hums into the hickey he’s leaving.

“course, honey. we have plenty of time to sleep.”

the plan was, after all, to eat, sleep, fuck, repeat. and swim, of course.

you walk down to the water hand in hand, taking your time through the gardens. he picks you a flower, tucks it sweetly behind your ear.

you ditch your shoes, sighing as your feet sink into the cool sand, damp from the push and pull of the waves. the stars are out, clear as day, and you play dot to dot, pointing out constellations to lando.

“do you have any idea how happy i am?” lando asks when you’re both sat in the sand. he pulls you into his side, your head tucking below his chin.

“if you’re as happy as i am then i’d guess pretty fucking happy.” you reply.

“the wedding was… god. i was kinda nervous about the whole event but as soon as i saw you walking down that aisle…” he trails off, scoffing in disbelief. “you’re a fucking angel.”

“i wasn’t even sure that charles was gonna let me go, you know?” you chuckle, gazing up into his watery eyes.

“i did have to pry him off.” lando laughs along with you, shaking his head.

“and then his speech.” you slap a hand over your mouth, stifling laughter. lando throws his head back in faux agony.

the speech in question had started with “to my sweet, dear baby sister and… lando”, and had ended with “and if you choose, for whatever reason, to make her unhappy, they will never find your body.”

“don’t think he’s ever gonna like me.” lando shrugs, tightening his arm around you, like someone might come and take you away.

“oh, shut up, he likes you! he just… likes to torture you more.” you grin cheekily up at him, and he can’t help but lean down and kiss you urgently.

“you are so beautiful.” he mumbles against your lips. “‘m so fucking in love with you.”

“je t’aime pour toujours.” you coo, licking into his mouth. i love you forever.

something urgent and guttural sounds from deep within him and you smooth your hands through his hair. he pulls away breathless, something wild in his eyes.

“we never talked about what happened in the bathroom.” lando rasps, eyes darkening.

“we got to work.” you smirk, echoing your previous words.

“but last time we spoke about it, you weren’t one hundred percent sure about the timing.” lando furrows his eyebrows, searching your face. your smirk relaxes into a smile, genuine with excitement.

“as soon as we said our vows, i knew i was ready. those things you said about family, about us having our own family… god, lando i would have let you have me right there at the alter.”

you are the light of my life. you make me happier than i ever thought i could be, and i will spend every day trying to make you feel the same way. from the moment i saw you, i was yours and i’ll stay yours until my last breath. my greatest joy so far is getting you call you my wife, and i can’t wait to call you the mother of my children. there’s no one else on this earth that i’d want to live my life with, raise a family with, come home to. you make me whole, baby.

safe to say, you’d said your own vows through a chorus of sobs.

“are you sure you’re ready?” lando whispers.

“i want a family with you, amour. let’s make one.” you raise an eyebrow, an invitation.

“i say we start right here.” lando beams, lunging towards you.

you fall back into the sand, laughing against his lips as he kisses you deeply, mouthing down your jaw. he wastes very little time, pulling at the strap of your camisole, licking over your bare flesh as he drags it down your arm.

“here? in the sand?”

“i said what i said.”

he peels off your top, nips at your bare chest as he pushes your sweats down, just enough to get his hand beneath your panties. you gasp wetly, eyes fluttering shut as he teases your folds with his fingers. he moans into the skin of your breast, hardening at the pooling wetness he’s discovered. a few calculated swipes of his fingers and he’s sinking them deep, your sweat pants restricting his movements. he adapts, rutting his fingers into you in a slow grind, thumb bumping your clit. your nipples peak, the ocean breeze and the cold sand under your back causing you to arch violently into him.

“you’re so wet for me, baby.” lando pants, before he closes his lips around your breast, swirling his tongue around your nipple. you’re sensitive, clenching around his fingers.

“want you inside of me.” you whine, bucking your hips to meet each grind of his digits.

“i am.” he flashes you a devilish grin, punctuating his words with a harder thrust.

“lando!” you growl, warning him.

“anything for my wife.”

he pulls his fingers out of you, the sound of the action obscene, and makes a show of sucking them clean while he strips himself bare. you huff, wriggling your sweats off so that you’re naked too, your thighs falling open on cue. he settles between them, brushing your hair out of your face as he settles on top of you.

you can feel him, throbbing and hot between your legs, small drops of him hitting your bare cunt. you keen into him, rolling your hips up to meet his.

“now, baby, please.” you beg.

“never get used to this, you know?” landos chest heaves as he pushes into you. “always feels as good as the first time.”

he sinks all the way in, taking note of every minuscule movement of your face. his breathing stutters at the warmth and wetness that envelops him whole, his tummy tight. you’re no better, lip caught between your teeth as you watch him hungrily.

“you remember our first time, baby? how good we were together, even then?” lando rasps, pulling out of you the tiniest bit, just to slam his hips right back against yours. it makes electricity shoot up your spine to the top of your head, leaving you hot all over.

“of course, amour, i think about it all the time.” you breathe, eyes rolling back as he sets his pace, slow yet so deliciously brutal.

“did you think then that we’d be doing this forever? that you’d be all mine, begging me to get you pregnant?” he teases, fingers digging into the plush of your hips.

“i used to think about it then, if we’d make it. knew we would. wanted you forever from the very first time.” you choke out, meaning it. “‘m so fucking happy lando.” you gasp, grabbing at every part of him that you can.

your hands smooth over his bronze skin, bound to get even richer from all of the sun kisses the rest of your honeymoon would bring. you zone out, honing in on the sound of the waves dancing against the shoreline, eyes staring up at the moon just behind his head. you can’t believe that you’re his, here, that this is real life and that you share a last name with a man that glows like the sun. a head of chocolate frosted curls obscures your vision, and you realise that you’re crying.

“baby? you with me?” lando draws you back to him, hips still.

“i’m here, ‘m sorry, it’s perfect. you’re so perfect.”

you pull him down, so desperate to taste him, moans muffled. your tears trail down his cheeks as well, so close and intertwined. he’s gentler now, pawing at your sides attentively, pulling your body along with his.

“gonna give you everything you want, pretty girl. my beautiful, beautiful girl.” lando coos.

“come with me.” you plead, nerve endings set alight by the overstimulating way his cock drags against your walls.

“you gonna take it all for me, mama?” and your vision goes white. he’s evil for that, playing you like a fool, but it makes you quiver around him, thighs shaking where they’re locked around his waist.

you chant his name, blasphemy, and words of absolute adoration as you let go, coating him in waves of your very own creation. he tries his best to ride through it, but one look at your twisted face, of your quaking body, and he’s dumb with pleasure, crashing down on top of you like a heated blanket.

the sun rises in the east when he carries you to bed, your eyes drooping as you loop your arms around his neck.

“get some sleep for me, angel. we have a baby to make.”

-

“do you ever wonder about trying new things?” lando asks, hand linked loosely with yours.

sea water rushes over your feet up to your ankles, the sun warming the skin of your backs as you stroll lazily along the coastline. it’s been three days of nothing but each other, a big, peaceful house and endless sunshine.

you sigh, rolling your eyes.

“lando, for the fourteenth fucking time, i promise i’ll play tarkov with you when we get home, but it’s just not really my thing-“ you whine, but his louder than life laugh cuts you off, slicing through the serenity of the beach.

“not what i meant, baby.” he chuckles, utterly fond of the way your face wrinkles with confusion.

“what, then?”

“in the bedroom.” lando smirks, and your eyes go wide.

“like… like what?” you squeak, slightly lost.

your sex life was nothing short of adventurous, to say the least.

“like maybe…” he hums teasingly. “you take control?” lando raises his eyebrows suggestively, and you feel yourself flush.

“me? i thought you liked taking charge?”

lando stops, pulling you into his body. water splatters higher up your legs, cooling you down the slightest amount. his hands cup your cheeks, tilting your head up to look at him.

“i love watching you.” he states simply. “and i wanna watch you push yourself.”

“okay.” you inhale shakily. “okay.” you repeat with more conviction. an idea pops into your head. you can’t resist the smirk that pulls at the corner of your lips, and lando grins at the glimmer in your eyes.

“go back to the house. wait for me in our room.”

“naked?” he quips cheekily.

“what do you think?” you tease. lando kisses you quickly, but you push him back. “go.” you command.

he turns to walk away, repeatedly turning back to you, as if he wants to make sure he hasn’t imagined your entire existence. you just turn your back, staring out to sea. the sky is awash with streaks of purple and orange, and you feel your skin prickle with excitement. you take your time walking back, actively trying to slow yourself down. when you reach the door to the master suite, your breath hitches in your throat.

your husband looks fucking ethereal, stretched out across the off-white linen on the king sized mattress. he’s elongated by the way his head is thrown back, bathed in the lamp light as his muscles flex, taut from the way he’s gripping himself, working himself from base to tip. a faint sheen of sweat coats his bronzer-still skin and your mouth runs dry.

“couldn’t wait?” you rasp, low and dangerous. his eyes flutter open, and the bastard has the audacity to beam at you.

“took too long.” he shrugs, resuming without a care in the world. you hear him pant, teeth gritted from the pleasure.

“hands off, lando.” you slowly undress, untying your sarong and letting it flutter to the floor. your bikini quickly follows, landing in a colourful heap on the floor. you stalk towards him and watch him swallow hard when you perch on your knees at the end of the bed. “you asked for this, amour, and you couldn’t even wait to enjoy it properly.”

you’re pouting at him, feigning sadness. he picks up on it, eyes locked on you, trailing shamelessly over your breasts.

“was thinking about how pretty you looked out there.” lando rasps, fisting the duvet beneath him. you tilt your head to the side, raking your eyes over his frame.

“bad boys don’t get the real thing.”

you smooth your hand up his thigh towards his hipbone, and you notice the way he twitches, cock stood tall and waiting. he’s leaking, desperate and aching, but he plays along, needy for it. you grin lazily, wriggling up the bed until you’re close enough, throwing your leg over one of his until you’re straddling his thigh, the skin warm against your bare cunt.

“baby…” he breathes, bringing up a hand to graze your thigh, but you bat it away.

“no touching.” you scold. “i’m gonna take what i want and,” you pause, thoughtfully. “then, maybe, i’ll give you something.”

lando pouts up at you, slowly retreating his hand until it’s back at his side. his jaw is tight as he fights to keep his mouth shut, trying to be content with just watching. after all, you are quite the sight.

you roll your hips experimentally, gasping at the way your clit grazes his skin. your head falls back, out of it as you find a rhythm that works. you drag yourself backwards and forwards, panting as you go, your wetness smearing across his flexed thigh.

“it’s so good, lando,” you moan. “wish you could touch me, but you don’t behave.” you tut, smirking down at him.

“i’ll be good, baby.” he chokes, and your eyes fly open. you rake you eyes over the shape of him, the tense dips of each of his abs, the way his hip bone pulses, leading all the way down to where he’s throbbing.

“looks painful.” you bite your lip. “want me to help?”

“please.” he coos, reaching out for you again before he thinks better of it, twisting his fingers back into the sheets until his knuckles are white.

you grip the base of his cock, loose at first, squeezing tight a few times. his mouth falls open, a deep, unhinged groan rumbling through his chest. you almost lose yourself in how gorgeous he looks but you remain focused, fucking your hand up and down on him a few times, experimenting.

“you gotta wait, amour.” you warn, thumbing at the tip, smearing beads of pre cum over the head. lando whines, squeezing his eyes shut, teeth gritting so hard that his jawline pops, defining it even more than usual. you grin. he’s wrapped so tight around your finger.

“don’t tease me.” he begs, bucking his hips into your hand.

“but you gotta keep it all in for me, amour. save it all so you can fill me up whenever i want.” your voice drips all over him like honey, making him shiver violently.

“you can’t just say that-“

“i can, lando. i can,” you giggle, evil. “and you’re gonna take it.” it’s a promise and a threat and he’s seconds away from blowing his load all over you.

“jesus, i’ve created a fucking monster.” lando hisses, gasping with every slow rub of your hands over his cock.

“and now you’re gonna deal with the consequences, sweetheart.” you purr. “you wanna fuck me?”

his eyes shoot wide open, and he nods desperately, his gaze boyish and needy.

“so wet for you, lando, think i’ll just sink right…” you trail off, manoeuvring yourself so that you’re hovering over his length, red and swollen. “down.” you moan, filling yourself up with ease.

lando cries out, a broken man of his own design, and you pant, rocking yourself backwards and forward as you adjust to the intrusion.

“we feel so good together.” you breathe, peering down at where he’s splitting you open.

“so good.” lando affirms. “can i touch you?” he whines, the veins in his arms protruding through his skin. they remind you how powerful he is, how easily he could flip you over and pound into you like a madman, but he’s letting you destroy him and he’s loving every second. you clamp down around him at the thought, a gush of your slick dripping down around him.

“touch me.” you comply, and he springs from the mattress, sitting unsupported in the middle of the bed as his hands snake around your waist. you anchor him though, holding him close as he holds you tight against him, rutting up into you so deliciously that you cry out his name wetly, face buried in his hair. “so good for me.” you whisper.

your hands cup his face, pulling back from his frizzy curls enough to press your lips to his, swallowing each-others moans.

“gonna come, baby.” lando mumbles into your lips, eyes glazed over with panic, scared you’re gonna deny him.

“that’s okay, amour, you saved it all for me.” you kiss the words against the corner of his mouth, eyes fluttering shut as your own orgasm tightens your belly to the point of no return. “good boy, lando, fill me up now, sweetheart.”

the grunt he lets out heightens into a whine, lost to the crook of your neck as he releases, grinding into you as he lets go. it sends a rush of heat up your spine, a flame to gunpowder, and you thrash in his arms, meeting your own end seconds later.

you come down in his embrace, pulling away to meet his wide eyes, awestruck and glossy.

“thank you, baby.” he mutters, hugging you tight for just a moment, before rolling you onto your back.

“love you.” you whisper, confused as to where he’s going when he starts to move down the bed.

you don’t have to wonder for long, watching as he settles his head against your thigh, licking his lips as he finds his release dripping out of you. two fingers run through your folds, teasing each and every overstimulated nerve. your teeth sink into your bottom lip right when his fingers sink into your cunt. lando’s in a daze, watching the way everything seeps out of you.

“keep it in for me.” lando slurs, transfixed on every clench of your spent cunt around his thick fingers. your eyes roll back in your head.

-

you roll over in the bed, the sunlight streaming through the linen curtains rousing you from your slumber. you push your hair from your face, reaching blindly for your husband but your hand lands on cold sheets, thudding dully against the mattress. you wrinkle your nose, sitting up and scanning the bedroom. you don’t find him, confused. he never wakes up first. your feet meet the cool tiles of the floor and you pad into the en-suite to freshen up, pulling a loose robe on before you make your way downstairs. you can smell eggs, toast and something floral, and you grin giddily, already anticipating what awaits.

you find lando in the middle of the kitchen, sleepy eyed and smiling at you like you’re the centre of the universe, sent to earth just for him. he’s surrounded, surrounded, by flowers, all kinds of varieties, and they flood the space, every surface covered by bouquets and arrangements. behind him, nestled amongst the sea of pinks, yellow and whites, the table is laid out with a delicious spread, and you feel a pang of hunger at the sight of fresh pastries and juices.

“mon dieu.” you sigh dreamily, grazing a hand over flower petals as you make your way through the jungle towards lando. “all of this for me? how the fuck did you manage this?” you swoon, wrapping your arms around his neck. he leans down, kisses you sweet and slow.

“rumour has it, there are no flowers left on the island.” he chuckles into your neck, and you giggle, leaning up to kiss him again.

“you’re insane.” you reply, awestruck. how did you get so lucky?

“ready for the day?” lando asks, toying with the ends of your hair.

“as long as i get to eat my body weight in sfogliatella first.” you tell him, eyeing the table behind him hungrily.

-

droplets of water sparkle in the sunlight, dripping slowly down his lean back, flexing with every shake of his head.

lando had crawled out the pool, and right between your legs, where he now resides, mouthing at the crotch of your bikini bottoms. he snaps the band of them against your waist, and you arch further into him every time his nose bumps your clothed clit.

“you’re being mean.” you whine, head falling back against the sun lounger. your book has fallen to the stone paved floor, your place surely lost, but you couldn’t care less. every time you pick the damn thing up, your husband has found a new, unique, way to entice you out of actually reading it, usually with his tongue.

“you want my mouth, baby? just say please.” he smirks up at you, wet curls falling over his eyes. water droplets drip over your thighs, cold against your warm skin and you shiver.

“please.” you growl, not really meaning it, but it’s the thought that counts, right?

“polite.” lando tuts, but he relents, twisting the ties that hold the bottoms together until they come undone. he tugs the material away, throws it blindly, and the quiet splash that sounds from behind him tells you both that they’d landed in the pool. he looks up at you, sheepish, and you glare at him.

“make it up to me.” you mutter, bucking your hips into his face.

lando complies, closing his mouth over your clit, sucking softly at the bud. you’re throbbing for him, writhing in the heat of the sun at his electric touch.

two fingers slither between your folds, and he groans into your cunt at the slickness that he finds there, laving his tongue through your slit to savour your taste before his fingers sink inside of you. as he builds a rhythm, fingertips bumping that special spot, you cry out, melting completely into the lounger.

“can feel us from earlier,” lando slurs, lips bumping your clit as he speaks. you shiver, the wet squelch between you quivering thighs leaving you utterly breathless. “so good for me, keeping it all in.”

you let go a few seconds later, grinning languidly as you watch him lick his fingers clean through your sunglasses. he kisses you cheekily, leaving you with your taste on your tongue, and he throws himself back into the pool.

“get my bikini bottoms!” you call, flustered by the way the low sun hits him, paints his golden and shiny.

“but i prefer the view without them.” he winks, but dives under the water to retrieve them nonetheless.

-

“‘m so, so in love with you.” lando rasps into your ear, mouthing at the skin of your flushed cheeks.

you’re chest to chest, eyes locked as he grinds into you, deeper and deeper somehow with every thrust. he leaves you dizzy, tingling and weightless with every stroke, hips brushing yours.

“lando,” you sigh dreamily, threading your fingers through his curls. they’re loosening from the humidity, the heat burning between you both, no longer perfectly coiled like they had been during your dinner date.

lando had hired out a small italian restaurant overlooking the sea, soft fairy lights strung over your heads as you’d sipped wine, hands loosely clasped together. he’d toyed with your wedding band the whole time, eyes rarely leaving yours. it was a perfect end to a perfect honeymoon, and as he’d driven you back to your villa, the tension had simmered.

he had you on your back quickly, but he was careful with you, lazily revealing more and more skin as he slowly undressed you. he’d tried to slide between your thighs, eyes lit up with longing, but you’d refused him. you needed him against you, buried so deep, intertwined. lando hadn’t fought you much, pouting at the deprivation of getting a taste, but when he’d slid his cock through your folds, easy because of your glistening slick, his eyes had rolled back and he’d gotten over the disappointment.

“you’re so perfect.” you pant, leaning up to kiss him. it’s sweet, full of passion, leaves you wanting. “i love you.” you whisper when he pulls away, his forehead resting intimately against yours. warm breaths mingle, rapid and needy from the intensity of it all.

when you fall apart under him, a string of jumbled french rolls off of your tongue, your eyes squeezed shut at the pure inferno of ecstasy that washes over you. you’re both damp with sweat, his curls falling in a mess over his forehead, framing pretty eyes that roll back in his head when he burrows deep and reaches his own release.

once you’re untangled, you lay facing each other and his fingertips ghost over the curve of your bare waist. you watch one another, utterly content with the silence, bathing in the warmth of the bedside lamp and the pale moonlight that filters in through the open balcony doors. the cool nighttime breeze grazes over your naked bodies, pulling you out of the unrelenting heat of the moment and into something serene, peaceful.

“i can’t wait to spend my life with you.” lando whispers, his words soft in the quiet of the room. you let them wash over you, tuned in to the waves rippling against the shore in the distance. you grin coyly back at him, grabbing the hand that he’s stroking you with. you pull it to your lips, kiss it sweetly.

you fall asleep with his arms wrapped around you, your back to his chest, loose curls tickling the skin of your neck. one of his hands rests gently over your lower belly, covered with one of yours.

your bags wait by the door, packed and ready to go home, where the rest of your life with him begins.

-

“i like this colour better, i think.” you muse, flicking between paint swatches. violet white and apple moon have caught your attention, but you wonder if a colder undertone would work best. you’ve taken on the task of redoing a guest room, a little end of summer project.

lando wrinkles his nose and you roll your eyes playfully.

you’re lounged across your sofa, the sun slowly dipping behind the horizon and you watch it through the open balcony doors. the room is tinged orange, glowing, painting your husband angelic.

“don’t you think something… warmer would work better?” he asks, leaning closer to have another look.

“not everyone loves fluorescent yellow.” you tease, and he wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side.

“okay, not that.” he laughs. “what about,” he scans the other swatches on the coffee table, reaching for one. “this one?”

he hands you honey beam, and you toy with the small card.

“i think it’s too pink.” you say.

“it’s cute! i just think we should paint it something soft, just in case…” he trails off, leaning forward and immersing himself in the samples. you lean in, too, chasing him. he has this small smile on his lips, lost in thought.

“hey, ‘in case’ what?” you ask.

lando turns to you, just stares for a second. the low sun makes your eyes sparkle, and he melts.

“in case we get pregnant.” he says quietly.

“oh.” you coo, grinning up at him. “i suppose you have a point.”

“yeah?” he breathes, excited in a way you can only compare to a sweet, innocent puppy.

“yeah.”

“like, baby, i love your eye for design but i don’t want our baby to grow up in a a pretentious, grey, prison-“ lando teases you, and you shut him up by wrestling him back onto the sofa.

“ve te faire foutre.” you scold, kissing over his cheeks.

“i love you and i love our house.” lando murmurs sincerely.

the paint swatches are forgotten as you laugh together and kiss him sweetly into the sofa.

-

lando relaxes into the seat, waiting for the plane to take off. oscar sits across from him, already falling asleep, hoodie pulled tight around his head. charles and alexandra are supposed to be joining them on the flight back to nice. he wonders where they are - he wants nothing more than to get home, curl into his wife’s side. lando snaps a picture of his dozing teammate, smirking at the screen, but before he can upload it to his instagram story, your contact photo fills the screen. he accepts the facetime, beaming as your tired eyes meet his through the screen.

“hey baby.” lando coos, sticking his tongue out at you.

“mon amour,” you greet, grinning at him lazily. “have you taken off yet?” you ask softly. you’re on your side in bed, blankets cocooning you, and lando aches to be there with you.

“soon, waiting for your brother and alex.” lando rolls his eyes jokingly, and you tut.

“i’ll tell them off.” you frown, unserious.

“god, don’t do that! i’m already terrified of that man.” lando shivers, and your laugh fills his ears, warms the blood flowing through his cheeks. “are you okay, though, baby? you look tired.”

“yeah, think it’s just sugar crash,” you half shrug. “i’ve been really tired for the last few days, it’s nothing.”

“sugar?” lando’s eyebrows furrow. you’re not one for sugary things, supplementing it with your body weight in snacks. you’re a savoury girl, through and through.

“yeah, i’m all kinder-d out.” you giggle, sheepish. his eyes go wide.

“my kinder?” lando gasps, feigning hurt. he sees it, then, the pile of wrappers on the nightstand behind you.

“whoops? don’t even know what came over me, but your entire stash is gone.”

“how am i ever gonna forgive you for this?” lando shakes his head, smirking at the screen.

“just get more on the way back? please?” you plead, giving him the eyes that he’d die for.

“course, baby.” he promises, but he’s mulling it all over in his head. “you’re not getting sick, are you?”

cravings. overly tired. all you had to say next was that you were nauseous and he’d be buying a crib. he kept his mouth shut, though, because it clearly hasn’t dawned on you yet.

“not sure, i’ve been fine mostly.” you shrug again, and lando can’t help but smile like a fool. “what?” you ask, noticing his untamed expression.

“nothing, i just love you. okay, baby, i’m gonna call charles and see where he is. i’ll be home in a few hours.”

“don’t forget my kinder!” you call, blowing him a kiss. “have a good flight, amour, i love you.”

lando can’t quieten his mind, too overwhelmed with the possibility that you’re about to expand your family, something he’s imagined since before he’d even proposed.

when charles steps onto the small plane, met with the sight of his brother in law grinning like an idiot at absolutely nothing, he wonders, yet again, what kind of joke god was playing on him.

-

you hear the front door open, the soft thud of bags dropping to the floor, and you spring from the mattress. you ignore the way your tummy turns uncomfortably, and speed down the hallway to meet him.

“hey baby.” lando murmurs, holding you tight when you jump into his arms. you never get used to him being gone.

“missed you.” you whisper, breathing in the familiar scent of him, warm and spicy, and even better than usual. “i’m so proud of you.”

lando was leading the championship, but he couldn’t get too comfortable. charles and lewis were looming in the near distance, and oscar was creeping towards the party at a rate of knots. but lando was on a streak of race wins, and he couldn’t deny that your praise made him giddy. after all, these days it was all for you.

“yeah?” lando asks, pressing his forehead against yours. you hum in agreement, leaning in for a kiss. it’s sweet, tender, silent confirmation of just how much you’ve missed one another.

“did you pick up my chocolate?” you pout, fingers intertwined as you walk to the sofa. you drop down, curling up and lando sits next to you.

“i did, and i also got you something else.” lando smiles coyly, unzipping his bag. your eyebrows furrow in confusion.

first, he hands you the kinder chocolate. then, he hands you a pregnancy test.

seeing the two items together makes it dawn on you, and you slap your hands over your face.

“mon dieu!” you gasp. “how did i not realise?” when you lower your hands, lando sees how your eyes glimmer with tears, your lips stretched into a nervous smile.

“so i’m not crazy for thinking it, right?” lando laughs, cupping your cheeks with warm, shaking hands.

“you’re not. should i take it now?”

“i might die if you don’t.” lando’s dead serious, the tension between you palpable.

you stand from the sofa, speed towards the bathroom, and lando watches you go. he sighs, rubbing his eyes, overcome with jitters and excitement.

time seems to stand still as he waits, eyes locked on the door that you’d gone through, waiting for any movement. five minutes must have passed, but if you’d told him it had been five years, he would have believed it. the door handle makes him jump to his feet, and he walks towards you tentatively. your expression is unreadable and he wants to scream.

“so? are you- are we?” lando pleads, only a few steps away from you now.

your neutral expression morphs into one of pure joy, the tears you’d been holding back streaming in a free-for-all.

“all that work we put in must have paid off.” you whisper, and lando surges towards you. your feet leave the ground, held so tight as he spins you around.

“we’re having a baby?” lando breathes, placing you back on the ground carefully.

“you’re gonna be a dad.” you manage through tears.

“my god,” his voice is laced with disbelief, utterly enamoured with you. “i can’t even believe it.” his face is buried in the crook of your neck, and you feel his wet, hot tears pooling there.

“i’m pregnant.” you say it slowly, tasting it on your tongue, feeling the weight of it. your husband clings to you, and your hands rake through his hair, soothing him with your dull nails across his scalp, as you ground yourself in the ecstasy of the moment.

“we did it!” lando cheers, flushed red, his watery eyes shining like the sun hitting the sea. you’re shaking, fingertips grazing your sweatshirt covered belly. his fingers lace with yours, rubbing gentle circles over the fabric.

“we did.” your voice wobbles, cheeks aching from your unshakable smile. “what the hell do we do now?”

“we plan a really elaborate hiding spot so that charles never finds me. you and the baby can visit.” lando replies earnestly, bursting into giggles when you swat his arm.

he pulls you into a kiss, so slow and gentle that the whole house melts away around you; all that’s left is you and him, and something so beautiful that you’ve created together.

“thank you.” lando mumbles against your lips.

“i’m just glad you convinced me not to paint the spare room grey.”

-

taglist

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