#moving from one said to the other so he can see fernando...

[rt3nenbaum]

another video of mark in china watching fernando get ready for the race and joking with tom mccullough (aston martin performance director i believe)

can't believe he was there for so long and there's no pictures and we only got a thumbs up... i hate them

[0scarp1astr1]

Wax Appointment

જ⁀➴ Desc: || In which you tell them about your brazilian wax appointment, they just have one problem, your waxer is a man. ||

ᯓ★ Featuring: Max Verstappen, Charles Leclerc, Lewis Hamilton, Lando Norris, Carlos Sainz, Fernando Alonso.

ᯓ★ 2x Genre: Fluffy (slight humor)

ᯓ★ Warning: Suggestive humor/themes

ᯓ★ Requested? No

Author Note: First official writing, remember inbox is open! I hope you all enjoy. And if you want another part of this, you can just tell me what drivers you would like to see in this same scenario. My pinned tells you all the drivers I write for.

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Max Verstappen

It was halfway through the day when Max caught you freshening yourself back up. At first, he brushed it off, assuming maybe he worked out while he was gone and needed a shower. He was never the type to press you on the matter unless it was something that caused you discomfort, and he needed a reason to beat up someone for you. He was sweet in his own way, but a kind, gentle soul when he needed to be.

"Alright, I'm leaving," you said, reaching for the keys. Max had looked over from his spot on the couch, raising a brow. "You're leaving? "I didn't know you had plans?" he questioned. He knew deep down he would be safe. He trusted his friends, plus most of them were other wags. You always got along with Alexandra.

Letting a soft chuckle slip from your lips, you shook your head, looking at him. He looked even more confused before you explained. "I'm going to my Brazilian waxing appointment." You smiled at him. Max's brain took a moment to process. "And that is what exactly?"

You sighed, figuring you would have to explain the basics to your lovely boyfriend. "It's waxing, they do everything, front, back, and everything in between." You winked playfully. He blushed for a moment before nodding his head. "Have fun!" he replied, eyes adverting back to the television.

"I will. "I have to go, or he's going to make me pay extra! "If I’m late,” Before you have the chance to prance out the door, your boyfriend was right behind you. "He? "It's a GUY?!" he said rather loudly, moving to block the door. You looked at him, almost offended. “Yeah? "It's a wax, this is his job," you tried to reason.

Max shook his head. "No, I can do it!” he said as his eyes widened at his suggestion. "Max, you can't wax me down there" you shook your head in protest. Max scoffed. "Schatje! I've seen every inch of you naked. I know my way around your body. In fact, I know my way in! "I'm waxing you! End of story!" he picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder.

"his job? I'm your boyfriend. this is MY job."

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Charles Leclerc

The crazy thing about Charles is that you told him about your Brazilian wax appointment, but it seems he forgot. Which isn’t a surprise considering he wasn’t paying much attention when he was spoken to, but you loved him regardless.

Opening the door, your eyes landed on Charles, who was playing his sim racing, giving a soft smile towards him as you spoke up. “Okay, I’m heading out for my Brazilian wax” you said as Charles hummed with a soft smile. “Enjoy yourself mon amour, give her a tip I like when she does your waxing” he stated.

 “Ah. "Amy’s out of town, I have a new waxer, but he said he knows what he’s doing” you assume, with a shrug. Charles forgot everything at that point, his head turning fast with an expression of disbelief. “He? Mon amour! It’s another man! He can’t see what’s mine!” 

“Charles, it’s just his job. "If I was uncomfortable, I’d never book this waxing” you shook your head, he let out a sigh. “I know that, trust me I know” he assured, silence falling over before he hummed to break the tension forming. 

“Just don’t get a waxing at all..personally, I don’t need this guy investigating you like some temple”, he said, causing you to chuckle, “It’s nothing like that.” Let me get my wax so you and I can have a good time. "I feel it ruins the mood if I’m not up-to-date with my self-care!”

Charles shook his head. “Fine…but let me fuck you first before you go. "I need to leave behind something,” he said as you slapped his arm. “Charles!” You shook your head, he shrugged.

“What? I don’t want anyone seeing what’s mine! At least let me label it before you go mon amour!”

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Lewis Hamilton

Fairly respectful guy, so you honestly have no issue with him, and he knows half the people you see anyway. He pays for your hair, nails, anything really. He just didn’t realize you had a man doing the waxing instead. 

Lewis casually lounged on the couch, Roscoe resting next to him and the TV playing some random film he found when channel surfing. When he saw you walk towards the door, he finally spoke up.

"Brazilian waxing, right?" he asked, wanting to double-check as he nodded your head in response to him. “You should be back in time before our date tonight. I know it’s not far from here,” he smiled softly. 

"Actually, it’s a new place I'm trying. They have me booked with some guy," you said as he nodded his head. "So how much did they-wait a guy?" he looked at you as if you had just insulted Roscoe himself. Which only caused you to giggle in response to his reaction. “Yes. A man is doing my waxing.” 

Lewis raised up from the couch as Roscoe looked over, his rest now disturbed. “I can live with you not waxing, you can just shave” he said as you cringed. “I hate shaving. "I need to be nice and pretty” you said as he groaned. “I’ve eaten it before! "Why does it matter now?” he said as he shook his head, Roscoe barking. “Lewis! "Roscoe is right there!” You gestured. 

“Excuse me baby doll, you know I love Roscoe but I’m more worried about the man waxing you!”

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Lando Norris

It was a pretty simple day with Lando playing games with his best friend Max and you rummaged through the bathroom and digging through makeup. “Lando!” You shouted from the bathroom. He excused himself from the game, walking to the bathroom. 

He opened the door as you looked at him with a frustrated expression. “Have you seen my makeup brushes?” You asked, earning a headshake from him. “I haven’t. "Where are you going anyway?” he asked. Lando didn’t mind you dolling up, but he also knew you rarely did. “Brandon is waxing me today. I scheduled my Brazilian wax for noon.” 

Gears turned in his head as the bathroom door was fully open now, his weight leaned against it. “Excuse me? Brandon? "What kind of womanly name is that?” He asked as you snickered, shaking your head. “Not a woman,” he said as he gasped. “You’re cheating on me?!” He shouted. Earning a rather offended expression on your part. “That’s not cheating!” 

“Letting him see MY woman’s elegant body is cheating!” He said as you groaned. “It’s a wax!” You scoffed. “Same thing.” My eyes only. "He’s going to try to steal you from me. "I know this because you’re absolutely sexy in my eyes and everyone will try.” He bickered back. A small smile broke out onto your face. “Are you sweet-talking to me?…” She smiled. 

Lando sighed. “Yeah. "Is it working?” He raised a brow, hating to admit how it was working, you caved in. “Kinda yeah,” You said as he grinned. “Excellent.” "You are going to get that waxing, cause now I feel bad.” He said as you, awed at his sudden change. 

“Thank you, Lando…” you smiled softly. “Of course.” "Now where are the wax strips you use?” He asked, scooting you out the way to rummage for them. “What?” he asked as he sighed, his eyes speaking for him. “Not happening Lando.”

“Do you want the wax or not? You don’t even have to pay me. You get a free Brazilian wax and I get to see you naked. It’s a win.”

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Carlos Sainz

The crazy thing is, Carlos looked into the booking since he was fine paying for it and just wanted a basic booking list to look at. It lined up perfectly with the vacation he booked for you two for the anniversary on the way. Everything was a miracle for him. 

“You sure you want to come to the room?” he asked as Carlos chuckled, nodding his head. “It’s not like I haven’t seen you naked before cariño”, he smiled softly. You kissed his cheek, gave a soft sigh and walked into the room, knowing exactly what to do already. 

Overtime, Carlos had been texting on his phone and waiting, so when the door opened, he looked up and his smile dropped as he looked at the guy rather closely. “Who are you?” He asked suddenly, causing him to side eye his sassy tone given. “Ah, I’m doing the waxing today, my name is-“ Carlos had quickly moved from his spot.

“You? "No offense, but you can’t wax my woman,” he said. You glanced at him for his boldness. “Carlos-“  "No! I want a woman! I don’t exactly trust this process.” He glared at the guy. The man clears his throat. “I can assure you it’s a fast process,” he said. 

Carlos crossed his arms. “I want a woman to wax. If not, "We’ll be taking our leave.” You looked at the guy, trying to give him a reassuring smile. “I’m sorry about that,” You said as the guy walked out of the room. 

Your gaze shifted to Carlos, who looked more relaxed and comfortable, only giving you a silent shrug in return. “You scared him away…” you said, but you smiled lightly. “Not that I’m complaining, but you can’t scare away people I need for my wax”, you said as Carlos kissed your forehead. 

“Dios mío, relax. I’ll make it up to you during our anniversary vacation. In the best way possible”

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Fernando Alonso

Dramatic, you knew how dramatic he was capable of being when you first started dating, and he damn near scared the waiter away. So with the waxer, you knew it was no different. 

It was the usual morning of you both lounging around the bedroom, wrapped in the warmth of your cuddle session. “I don’t want to get up, but I can’t miss my wax either” you said as Fernando hums, his arms still around you. “Schedule it another time” he suggested, and you figured maybe it wasn’t a bad idea, so you did it. 

Sadly, you lost track of time and when you finally got up two hours later, you internally screamed at yourself. Fernando only propped himself up on his elbows, watching you move around the bedroom in a panic. “You’re only a bit late,” he said. “A bit?! Fernando, I’m hours late! I had to call to make sure I could go!” 

“And?” he sighed heavily. “The original waxer is out. Luckily, this one guy made time to squeeze me in today for a Brazilian wax”. At the moment when you said that, Fernando was well awake and jumping out of bed. “No! Absolutely not! "Do you hear yourself, Mi amada?” he asked, eyes wide. A part of you was aching to laugh just because of how dead serious he was. 

“Who needs a wax anyway? "I can manage” he shrugs, causing you to snicker. It’s not funny! "He’s going to see you! "Every bit of you! "I can wax you! "I’m your husband!” He said as you giggled. “Boyfriend.” You corrected. “Soon to be husband! "My point is, you’re laughing, and I’m offering to wax!” He pointed out. “You’re such a drama queen Alonso,” You said. He stood in front of you, silence taking over, who was going to cave in? Only time was capable of telling. 

Now here you are, lying down at home. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into letting you wax me at home,” You said as he shrugged. “I was helping you”, he said as you rolled your eyes playfully. “You’re lucky the world loves you.” He gave a satisfied smile. 

“Happy to help, I’d be a fool to allow another man to touch you. Call it dramatics but you love it.”

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[amirasainz]

Can you please do driver reader is literally the absolute Angel of the paddock and everyone adores her, she’s the cutest sweetest little bean that you can’t help but love, she’s a Redbull driver and Christian always fawns over her and talks about his ‘daughter’ ( it’s clear she’s the favourite ). Even the older drivers love her e.g kimi, jenson, Seb, mark. Platonic pleaseeee

Omg, that is such a sweet idea. I did the format a bit differently, hope you don't mind.

Enjoy reading and send me some requests!!!

-XoXo

The Redbull Princess

YN YLN was a known name in the motor sport world. Not only was she the youngest driver currently on the grid - only 19 years - but she is the first female to ever drive for RedBull. Not oy that, but also the only woman on the grid.

Despite having a different gender, the other drivers never treated her bad. In fact, one could say that YN got the whole "Princess Treatment" from the drivers and teams. Each driver has taken a special place in her life.

Exhibit A: The protective one

The paddock was buzzing with energy, reporters swarming like bees near the Red Bull garage. YN was prepping for her media rounds, already feeling the weight of the spotlight on her. As she stepped into the press pen, a group of journalists immediately approached, firing off questions.

"YN, how do you feel about the pressure of being the youngest driver? Do you think it affects your performance?"

Before she could answer, Max appeared out of nowhere, slipping between her and the reporters with a grin that was anything but friendly. "I think that's enough for now," Max said, his blue eyes narrowing. "She’s got a race to focus on. Back off."

The reporters, visibly intimidated by the reigning World Champion, quickly shuffled away. YN let out a breath of relief, nudging Max with her elbow.

"You know, I can handle them."

Max chuckled, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, steering her away from the crowd. "Yeah, but why would I let them bother you when I can have fun scaring them off?"

"You're impossible," she laughed. "But thanks."

Exhibit B: The gossip King

YN walked into the Ferrari garage, still buzzing from practice. She found Charles leaning against his car, drinking water. His face lit up when he saw her.

"Charlie! Did you see that move I pulled in turn 9?" she said, excitedly plopping down next to him.

Charles grinned, instantly slipping into gossip mode. "I did! Smooth as butter. But did you hear about Fernando's radio message? He was furious about the tire degradation. Drama!"

YN's eyes widened. "No way! Spill all the tea, Leclerc."

Charles leaned in, whispering. "Apparently, his engineer told him to manage his tires better, and Nando snapped, saying, ‘I am managing them!’" He mimicked Fernando’s accent, making YN burst into laughter.

Exhibit C: The helping hand

The young RedBull driver just exited her car, when she felt someone grabbing her Birking Bag. When she quickly turned her head, she was meat with the sight of Carlos not only caring her bag in his hands and her coat on his arm, but carring his own stuff as well.

"Carlito, what are you doing? You don’t have to carry all my stuff for me." she told him, after they started walking towards the entrance.

Carlos mate an irritated sound, before responding to her. "Nonsense, hermana. Your job is to win this weekend. So let me help you with all the other things, comprende?"

Before Carlos could get an answer, she threw her arms around him, whispering a small thank you in his ear.

Exhibit D: The personal chef

YN sat in the Red Bull hospitality area, poking at her plate of food with a discontented look. Yuki walked over, noticing her lack of enthusiasm.

"Not good enough for you, huh?" Yuki teased, sliding into the seat across from her.

YN scrunched up her nose. "I don’t know what it is, but I just can’t eat this."

Without missing a beat, Yuki stood up. "I’ll make you something. What do you want?"

Her eyes brightened. "Yuki, really? You don’t have to!"

He waved a hand dismissively. "Nah, you’re picky. I know that. What do you want? Miso soup? Onigiri?"

YN tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Onigiri sounds perfect."

Within minutes, Yuki was back, placing a plate of freshly made onigiri in front of her. YN took a bite and sighed contentedly. "You're the best, Yuki."

He grinned. "I know."

Exhibit E: The "annoying" prankster

YN was busy trying to make sure her helmet and gear were ready when suddenly, her entire backpack fell off the counter with a loud thud, spilling everything.

"Lando!" she yelled, spinning around, catching the British driver grinning like a mischievous child.

"What?" Lando said, feigning innocence, hands up. "It slipped."

YN gave him a look but couldn’t help the smile creeping on her face. Lando always knew how to lift her spirits, even if it was through relentless pranks.

"One day, Norris, one day!" she warned, pointing a finger at him.

"I’ll be waiting," Lando chuckled, before helping her pick up her things

Exhibit F: The shoulder to cry on

"I just can't believe it. I was so close. How did I manage to bin the car into the wall on the last corner" muttered the 19 year old. Her face pressed in Oscars neck, who was busy stroking her hair. He knew better than to interrupt her during her rant. Knowing it would help her when she got everything of her chest.

After a moment, she shakily breathed out. Oscar knew that the only thing he could do now was to let her fall apart while he would catch every piece of her.

And that's what he did. While she cried her heart out, Oscar held her close to him, rocking them slowly in a soothing matter. It felt like nothing could happen to her in Oscars arms. He would protect her from the outside world as long as she needed

Sometimes actions speak louder than words

Exhabit G: The fashionista

Lewis stood beside YN, eyeing her racing suit critically before smirking. "That’s not gonna work."

"What do you mean?" she asked, confused.

He pointed at her boots. "Those shoes? No way. They don’t match the rest of the suit."

YN raised an eyebrow. "I'm not trying to walk the runway, Lewis. I’m racing."

Lewis rolled his eyes. "You can do both. Come on, let’s get you a new pair of shoes. You’ll thank me later."

And true to his words, YN received a new pair of racing shoes only a few hours later. They certainly looked better than her old pair.

Exhibit H: The mother-hen

George was hovering near the buffet in the paddock, watching YN closely as she piled food onto her plate. He narrowed his eyes as she bypassed the salad section.

"YN, you need to eat more greens. And have you had any water today?" George asked, his tone dangerously close to motherly.

YN groaned. "George, I’m fine. I had water this morning."

"That’s not enough," he replied sternly, filling a glass and handing it to her. "Drink. Now."

She pouted but took the glass. "Okay, Mom."

Exhibit I: The proud dad

During a press conference, Christian Horner stood beside YN, smiling at the reporters. "You all know my daughter here is the star of the show," he said, gesturing towards YN.

YN blushed at the comment. "Christian!"

The reporters laughed, but YN knew Christian wasn’t entirely joking. He had taken her under his wing from day one, treating her like family. And she couldn’t have been more grateful.

Exhibit J: Bwoah

In a rare quiet moment, YN had somehow convinced Kimi Räikkönen — the Iceman himself — to do a TikTok trend with her. As the camera rolled, Kimi deadpanned his way through the trend, barely moving but somehow nailing it.

"Thanks for doing this, Kimi," YN said, grinning as they finished.

Kimi shrugged. "Bwoah, don’t mention it, kid. But don’t tell the other drivers that you are my favourite"

YN laughed. "Deal."

[astonmartinii]

other side of the moon - chapter one | formula one imagine

pairing: fem retired formula one driver reader x ??? fem retired formula one driver reader x platonic!kimi antonelli

chapter one: an offer you can refuse

years of solitude has led y/n y/ln down a dark path following her career-ending injury in 2022 but one rookie seems dead set on bringing her back into the fray

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

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“have you seen this?”

it’s too early in the day to be subjected to twitter in y/n’s opinion, but her manager - the one she’s always insisted in not needing - insists upon it. sara’s hand shakes as she hands over her phone, the video already playing loudly.

the video is a poorly clipped together compilation of kimi antonelli, for no better word, gushing about her. it’s earnest and even cute, but not cute enough. the formula one paddock was a vulture pit, one y/n had only escaped three years earlier with her life - barely.

“it’s cool. that’s all it is though,” y/n moves towards the door, picking up her coat and refusing to turn back towards sara, “i’ve told you since jenson insisted i hire you, there’s no way in hell i will ever go back to that paddock. and that’s the end of it, please. i’ll do any stupid vitamin ad or female empowerment talk if it makes you happy, but i can’t go back there.”

y/n grabbed her keys and left the apartment, leaving sara in her wake. sara reached into her pocket and pulled out a tattered letter with ‘y/n’ scrawled on the front in awful handwriting. she left it on the kitchen island and left, understanding this was likely to be her last time in this apartment - there's stupid and there's what she was doing right now, there was no way she would still be employed in the morning.

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girlsonthegrid

liked by maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri and 103,478 others

tagged: yourusername

girlsonthegrid: today we look back at the biggest what if for women in formula one - y/n y/ln. the 26-year-old drove for mclaren from 2020 to 2022 before she sustained a career-ending injury at silverstone. y/ln was the first ever female f1 race winner with her emphatic victory at monza in 2021 and the first ever female formula 2 champion with her win in 2019. her career lasted just 30 races and she hasn't been seen in the paddock or around any drivers since the crash. there have been reports that she has been approached about a mentor role but considering how fast her management rejected and shut down sky sports about a commentary role, this is also unlikely. what would you like to see from her if she ever comes out of hiding?

view all comments

user1: i mourn for her everyday

user2: the way she paved the way for so many but can't stand to be in the paddock to see what she did for the sport

user3: i really don't blame her

user4: doriane is the mercedes reserve and abbi is alpine's! her work is there even if she isn't and i know i'll always be grateful for that

user5: she's so overrated, if she didn't crash she still would've been out of formula 1 by now

user6: me when i'm the most wrong ever

user7: i can't believe there are still men to this day that think she wasn't great? literal world champions like max, lewis, fernando, seb and jenson have all said that she could've won a championship

user8: i mean no shade to lando but i think y/n would've made it 100x harder for max this season in that mclaren

user9: the way jenson tried to say that in the nicest way possible in las vegas lol

user10: and max agreed with him LOL

user11: the way it wasn't even proper lando shade or oscar shade like twitter painted it to be but like max just praising his bestie

user12: he does not play about her as he should

user13: i mean he's the only one we know y/n still actually talks to

user14: i can't wait for the tell-all biography that exposes half the grid because like how much have you must have fucked up for her to never speak to you again

user15: when twitter likes were public she was caught liking a bunch of tweets bout mick when he got his first points so like she doesn't even have hard feelings to the guy who put her in the barrier sooo

user16: it was proven it was break failure???? mick did nothing wrong that's why she still likes things praising him

user17: that crash really robbed us of the best ever f1 relationship with y/n and lando

user18: you know that's part of the reason that she doesn't speak to lando right?

user19: because she wished it was him not her?

user20: NO! because she hated that whole 'ship'

user21: and lando leaned into it way too much

user22: it made me a bit uncomfortable and i'm not even y/n

user23: AND she said on the beyond the grid podcast that she thought those rumours were really reductive and relegated her to just a love interest of her teammate rather than a race winner

user24: kimi antonelli please bring her back to us

user25: praying she'll listen to the literal child

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texts between y/n y/ln (bold) and max verstappen (italics)

did u give them my fucking address

my lawyer says to always deny everything?

i also actually have no idea what you are talking about…

i just got home and there’s a fucking letter from KIMI ANTONELLI on my kitchen counter

it’s creepy and a mad invasion of privacy

i did NOT give them your address?

i gave them sara’s contact details so they wouldn’t be able to directly get to you and i honestly thought she would be too scared to ask you

she showed me all the clips of him praising me.

it didn’t work.

it’s been three years y/n…

and it still hasn’t been long enough.

all i’m saying is read the letter, as creepy as it might be, he is just an 18 year old entering the lion’s den you could at least reply to him even if you don’t take up the offer

although i read they were going to pay you £10 million a year??? was that real?

unfortunately it is very real.

i didn’t think i was still worth that much

you are worth that and more, just give him a chance. we’ve both met him, he’s a sweet kid.

for now.

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it was cold in her apartment, y/n hadn’t shut the window from when she opened them that morning. in fact she hadn’t moved from the kitchen since she set eyes on the letter. it was bold she’d give him that.

the letter was crumpled as if it had gone through hell to get to her (it probably had) and the handwriting was a serious reminder of just how young kimi is. y/n had wondered if her maternal instincts would ever kick in like all the older women in her life insisted it would. sure she had felt intense feelings of love for her childhood cats and had cared her formula one cars (regina and heather, they were named after mean girls, because that is who they had to be on track) like they were children. but that true maternal feeling had never come to her, until now.

all y/n could think about was kimi. how young he was, how much he was set to lose. not everyone was her, the worst thing wasn’t going to happen to everyone - it just always seemed to happen to her.

her loud phone alarm jolted her out of her daydream, reminding her to take her painkillers. as she poured herself a glass of water, y/n slammed down the glass and ripped open the letter.

dear miss y/n y/ln my name is andrea kimi antonelli and i am going to be driving for mercedes amg f1 team in 2025. we met very briefly after i won all three races at mugello and lifted the italian f4 championship trophy. i know you were there on mclaren PR but for me it changed my life. you have always been my biggest inspiration alongside michael schumacher (i am italian, you must understand). it was always my dream to race alongside you and maybe even be teammates, i’d even betray toto and leave mercedes to make that happen (please don’t tell him i told you that). i know that can never happen now, but it could happen in another way? i know like me you grew up seeing niki lauda supporting and mentoring the mercedes drivers and i was wondering if you would be my mentor - who cares about george anyway. i know you’ve never come back to the paddock and are unlikely to do so for little old me. but if you could just think about it that would be great, if you don’t ask, you’ll never get! i hope this letter wasn’t horribly offensive, i mean it when i say you’re my favourite!!! love, kimi (p.s. i was at monza 2021, so you could even consider me a good luck charm) (p.p.s you won monza 2021 completely on merit but i was there) (p.p.p.s please don’t think i’m an idiot) (p.p.p.p.s i also loved interlagos 2020 that’s a super underrated drive)

with tears in her eyes, y/n placed the letter back on the counter, grabbed the glass of water and made her way to her bedroom. painkillers taken with a wince, she still hadn’t gotten used to the size of the pills even three years into taking them, y/n shuffled under the duvet.

the offer was there and it seemed sincere. her accountant would tell her that the money was worth the mental turmoil, even if she just did it for one season and returned to her little cave in west london.

there was no doubt she felt something for kimi - a kinship, a frienship or a maternal yearning - but was it worth ripping off all the bandages and opening herself back up to all the scrutiny again?

she would sleep on it.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, georgerussell63 and 10,567,388 others

yourusername: much to think about these days. like how the fuck this app works now?

view all comments

user1: first post in three years and it’s THIS?

user2: i am not complaining

user3: i am savouring every little piece in case she goes missing for another three years

mclarenf1: the queen has returned

user4: no thanks to you

user5: how about we keep my wife’s name out of your fucking mouth

user6: socials admin i know it is not you specifically but i really don’t know how you can post up here like you’re completely absolved of your involvement in this. your car had break failure that broke her fucking back - it is a miracle she is even still walking! and you still don’t accept any responsibility for it

user7: i love y/n but like how is it mclaren’s fault? break failure happens all the time?

user8: well it’s in one part the fact that they were using her as a test dummy because it was a new faulty part that mclaren was experimenting with that was on her car and NOT lando’s and the fact that to this day when they feel like it they’ll heap guilt onto mick schumacher

user9: without being disrespectful there were two formula one careers that were ended that day because mclaren have kept to the narrative that it was mick that put her into the barriers eventhough siedel admitted when he left mclaren that it was a faulty break part that caused it.

user10: clock it

user11: yes clock it but maybe on a different post because it’s y/n’s return to the internet and all yall can talk about is the most traumatic event in her life?

kimiantonelli: i also love clairo

user12: what is bro doing?

user13: be quiet he’s our best hope of y/n coming back to the paddock let him cook

user14: name three songs local

kimiantonelli: bags (live), alewife and blouse

user15: this motherfucker might just do it

maxverstappen1: i miss brando :/

yourusername: you know my address

yourusername: use it since you like to give it out so much

maxverstappen1: I DID NOT GIVE THEM YOUR ADDRESS

user16: y/lnstappen friendship is BACK

user17: it was never gone?

user18: but now we get to see it :P

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･

when she woke the next morning, y/n knew she had to read the letter again before jumping into anything. in her sleep she was plagued with memories of the past, but not the usual ones that haunted her in the dark. there were no flames, no hospitals, no career-ending injuries. no, this time she was transported back to 2020 and her first few races of her formula one career.

march 2020.

the paddock was much bigger in formula one than it had been in formula two with hundreds more people running around, barging through crowds, hitting y/n on the way through and not even stopping to apologise. she had thought briefly that she would be making more noise as the first female racer to take part in a race since forever - y/n even thought that she’d made a bit of a splash during preseason testing, nestled between her teammate lando and alex in the red bull in fifth.

but she was invisible. even with the garish orange path to follow to the mclaren garage, y/n struggled to get through the crowds of people brandishing their paddock passes. her trainer had gone ahead to set up her driver room which left y/n to push through and arrive to briefing ten minutes late.

“i’m so sorry, i got lost and by the time i was going in the right direction the paddock had filled up?”

y/n stammered, not quite able to make eye contact with zak brown. the american wasn’t tall in comparison to the general public but he towered over y/n and the disapproving stare didn’t do much to help.

“just make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

zak snipped, waving his hand in y/n’s direction, telling her to take a seat. y/n rushed to the nearest empty seat and looked for her teammate in the room. lando was sat just three seats to her right on a small table. y/n tried to make eye contact with lando but he avoided her gaze like it was burning him, so much for the ‘big brother’ act he had put on at the car launch.

the engineers stood in front of the screen and started their long-winded presentation about the prospects for the season ahead. y/n pulled her note book out and frantically started taking notes, she didn’t know if that was normal for formula one drivers, but knowing as much as possible couldn’t hurt.

y/n copied down the warnings about possible tyre wear in turn three when she heard some soft sniggers, like someone was trying to stifle their laughter. this drew y/n out of her focus on the presentation, looking around the meeting room to locate the perpetrator.

lando caught her eye immediately. he had a light blush across his face and his mouth was covered by his hand. he looked guilty, guiltier than the rest of the room who were listening intently to the engineers. y/n raised her eyebrow in question.

“i’m sorry are we distracting you two?”

zak interrupted the presentation, turning to look at y/n and lando.

“no, sorry sir,” y/n replied turning her chair back to face the screen. “lando?” zak pressed.

“i’m sorry zak but y/n was distracting me with her note-taking,” lando forced out between his boyish giggles. “i’ve never taken notes, i didn’t realise you would be sucking up to the engineers this early on?”

“i’ve always taken notes? is it a problem? i’m sorry if i was distracting you lando.”

“yeah we’ll see how much those notes help you on track, rookie.”

lando spat over the table. it was uncharacteristically mean for the lando she had seen in the mclaren social content and the lando she spoke with at the car launch. y/n felt tears prickle in her eyes but she swallowed them down, she couldn’t cry yet - or at least not in view of all the most important people on the team.

“right. we’ll get back to business then.”

the rest of the meeting went by in a blur for y/n, but despite the outburst from lando, she continued to take her notes, she would be damned if some comments from lando would fuck up her entire race weekend routine. y/n took her time when zak dismissed them from the meeting, not wanting to look unprofessional.

moving towards the door, y/n’s shoulder hit someone else’s. she looked up to make eye contact with lando yet again.

“you better not make a habit of making contact with me, rookie,” lando said, a slight smirk but a harsh look in his eyes.

“are you like okay?”

“why wouldn’t i be?” lando replied pushing past through the door.

“i don’t know, you’re just a little frosty this morning? did i do something?”

“why would i be thinking about you, seriously? this is my team, know your place and we’ll get on just fine”.

with that lando was gone and y/n was left puzzled. i guess PR really does work wonders, y/n thought before making her own way to her drivers room.

her trainer, luca, wasn’t there when she managed to locate the room but all of her gear was already neatly put away like they had discussed. y/n cracked open an electrolyte drink and opened her notebook to study the meeting points.

there was a loud knock at the door and before y/n could even utter a “come in”, the mystery visitor barged into the room. daniel ricciardo announced his arrival with a packet of tim tams thrown at y/n and a quick “howdy” before he started rifling through her stuff and studying her helmet.

“ah, another cool dude who has a cuddly guy on their helmet,” daniel said, picking up her helmet, pointing at the cartoon version of her childhood cat.

“oh that’s schumi, when we travelled for karting we always brought him up until he died of old age, but i still want him with me whenever i race.” y/n said, nervous that the heartfelt explanation would be deemed uncool by one of the coolest racers she had ever seen.

“oh that’s surprisingly cute, i bet schumi was a big hit in the paddock back in the day.”

“he sure was, he’s how i charmed max into not hating me after i took him out once,” y/n chuckled thinking back to the race where max stormed up to her with angry tears in his eyes until y/n practically threw schumi at him. in just five seconds, max had calmed down and schumi was happily purring in the young dutchman’s lap.

“that sounds like max. but speaking of the other young whippersnappers in the paddock, how is our lando treating you? i bet zak and that can’t keep up with you two…” daniel asked, slumping to the floor, taking one of her drinks from the mini fridge.

“oh. i am getting used to him, we’ll put it that way?”

“he’s not being rude is he?”

“no! well. he insists on calling me rookie and keeps making comments about me crashing into him and made fun of me taking notes in briefing but i’m sure that such the british banter.”

“you’re british?”

“well. um. yeah, you got me there.”

daniel grabbed her hands, forcing y/n to look him in the eyes rather than her very interesting shoes.

“i know lando is like some media darling, but so are you. don’t let him push you around, he may have been in this team a while but you’re just as good as him if not better. you’re here to prove yourself, not to play second fiddle, okay?”

it was the first time someone had actually tried to talk to her properly since getting to the paddock. again, tears climbed to her eyes, but this time she let one creep out. daniel wiped it away.

“we made the mistake of isolating max when he was young and new, we won’t make the same mistake - we can’t have two of you running rampant around here,” y/n let out a wet laugh which daniel returned, “just come to renault if you need anything from me. max will be there for you, you know, and seb, kimi, fernando and all the old men will listen to you. don’t rot in your drivers room or hotel suite and think you’re not wanted here.”

y/n nodded, feeling some butterflies in her stomach. she was actually here - a formula one driver. a seven-time race winner wants her here, world champions want her here. a private-school fuckboy wasn’t going to ruin her first ever race weeekend.

“thank you daniel.”

“i have to dash, but i’m serious, we’re here for you. and i would be honoured to kick that little shit’s ass for you, okay?”

the australian left in just as loud fashion as he came, but in the remaining silence, y/n finally felt some peace. this was her chance, and she wasn’t going to mess it up.

present.

y/n couldn’t let that happen to kimi. the young italian was just so unbelievably earnest in his letter that y/n couldn’t bear the thought of his kindness being taken advantage of. george russell had never been outwardly callous but with his attack on max late last season and his complete radio silence with y/n since her crash made her suspicious.

as she prepared to ask max for kimi’s number, sara (who did actually still have a job) sent her a link.

sara: zak brown believes mclaren has the strongest pairing on the grid with no more childish recklessness like in the early 2020s

sara: do you want us to put out a statement or ignore as usual?

y/n clicked on the link, even though she knew it would just annoy her to the point that her phone might become closely acquainted with the thames.

as the formula one world gears up for the 2025 season, zak brown has already stated his confidence for mclaren this season. the papaya team will be coming into the 2025 season as reigning constructors champions and lando norris and oscar piastri will be aiming to add the world drivers championship to that as well.

when zak brown sat down with us earlier this week, the mclaren ceo did not beat around the bush, stating that mclaren have the strongest pairing on the grid. with red bull promoting liam lawson in a test and, mercedes putting unproven kimi antonelli next to george russell and ferrari gambling with charles leclerc and lewis hamilton, brown might just be right.

in their journey to constructors champions, brown recognised that as a team they had straightened out all of their ‘growing pains’. this is exemplified in oscar piastri completing all laps in the 2024 season.

like they usually do, y/n y/ln’s particularly rabid twitter fans will probably detect some ‘shade’ towards the former driver. brown did touch on the prior mclaren drivers during his reign as ceo, saying that the team had some childish recklessness, but now they have a team that all know their place.

y/n y/ln hasn’t spoken about anything formula one related since her retirement, even forgoing the opportunity to congratulate the team that took the chance on her for winning the championship - something brown did not mince his words on off camera. brown lamented about y/ln’s silence, labelling her a brat and ungrateful for not still thanking him for allowing a woman to compete in formula one.

will mclaren make it back-to-back constructors championships? and will they sweep both championships this season?

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･

she needed that loud-mouthed american’s head on a silver platter. the letter had almost sucked her back into the world of formula one, only for the man who discarded her like a broken toy when his car had malfunctioned and smashed her and her career into a concrete wall to call her an ungrateful brat.

fuck him. fuck mclaren. and fuck that dumbass reporter for giving him the time of day.

y/n didn’t throw her phone from her balcony but pulled up her texts with max.

texts between y/n y/ln (bold) and max verstappen (italic)

have you read this absolute hogwash

zak brown believes mclaren has the strongest pairing on the grid with no more childish recklessness like in the early 2020s

i 100% get why you wanted to put him in a wall last season

you watched last season?

shut up not the time

did you text me just to call your old tyrannical boss a fraud?

i was going to ask for kimi’s number but now i’m back at square one

noooooooo

i want to be there for him, the way no one was for us.

but this is the bs they write about me when i haven’t been seen or heard from in three years, imagine the shite they come up with when i’m the paddock every weekend

WHEN?

no no no

i’ll give you kimi’s number

contact: kimi antonelli (mercedes)

you decide what you want to do

as much as i would kill to have you around the paddock again… even in the vicinity of george

i want you to do what you are comfortable with

thanks max

i’m not giving you a yes but i’m definitely thinking about it

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･

fin.

note: omg that's part one??????? i had this idea and have been planning and adding to it for a couple days. no spoilers but there will be multiple love interests, backstabbing and all that lovely stuff - i just love the drama !!! (yes i will finish guilty as sin at some point as well). i hope you enjoy the prose as well - first time writing that way on here lol ?! let me know if you liked it, who you'd like to see her with and what you'd like to see happen!

[5sospenguinqueen]

Toy Cars | Fernando Alonso x Mum! Reader

Summary: Fernando boasts about his step-sons to anyone who will listen. So, when you realise you want more, he's confused why your little family is no longer enough.

Warnings: angst, slight age gap. i pictured reader about 35

Requested: no

just a short one compared to the others

F1 Masterlist

next.

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

fernandoalo_official just posted

liked by astonmartinf1, aussiegrit and others

fernandoalo_official not been an easy weekend so far but it’s made easier when one of my favourite people is in the paddock

14,114 comments

jensonbutton but i’m not working this weekend?

→ lance_stroll we all know i’m his other favourite person

→ fernandoalo_official no, the twins are

→ user1 step dad nando has my whole heart

→ yn_ln mine too! 

user2 a hug from fernando would heal me

→ user3 a hug from y/n would heal me

yn_ln weekends where i get to see you are my favourite

→ user4 i will never be normal about these two 

→ user5 it’s the fact that he watches the f2 races because it gives him an excuse to hang out with y/n 

astonmartinf1 our favourite couple 

user6 need fernando to win now that he’s had his good luck hug 

yn_ln just posted

liked by jensonbutton, lance_stroll and others

yn_ln back on track for the twins. both my boys did a wonderful job with high position finishes… oh and they were visited by an enthusiastic fan 😉

5,343 comments

fernandoalo_official i’ll be getting you in one of those karts next 

→ yn_ln that’s going to take a lot of convincing, nando 

→ fernandoalo_official i can think of a few ways, mi vida

→ landonorris ew

→ user7 mi vida!! i will never be normal about these two 

aussiegrit how’d he get his hair that tall 

→ astonmartinf1 it’s so full of secrets 

fa_alonsokart calling the boss an enthusiastic fan is such a power move

→ user8 the fact that he let her and didn’t comment on it tho 

lance_stroll they'll be taking his seat soon enough

user9 love how supportive fernando is of his step-sons

→ user10 he literally started a karting school so that he could help their karting careers

→ user11 the dad that stepped up

user1 what’s your favourite fa14 fact? mine is that he fell in love with y/n l/n, realised she had twins and immediately started enacting project alonso 

→ user2 no because the twins were 11 when he met them and now they’re 15 and looking at f3 seats 

user3 this is what i’ve been saying. fernando doesn’t just love y/n, he loves her children just as much, if not more

user4 fernando alonso puts all other step-dads to shame because he is always there for them, no matter how busy his life is

user5 i really need fernando to hurry up and propose because that is his family

→ user6 yes! he needs to make project alonso official by giving them all his last name

→ user7 and then more babies!  

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

comments 

user8 why was this the cutest thing said by anyone ever. like those are his boys 

user9 wait, so does this mean he doesn’t want kids?

user10 the way he cut that interviewer off because that his family whether they share blood or not

→ user11 i read it as he didn’t want to talk about it any more because he doesn’t want more kids and maybe he and y/n haven’t talked about it yet 

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

yn_ln just posted

liked by kellypiquet, alexandrasaintmleux and others 

yn_ln an empty house for the week makes me realise that i miss hearing about cars 

2,343 comments

user1 aw are the flowers from fernando?

kellypiquet max keeps trying to convince me to get another cat. don’t let him see this

→ maxverstappen1 too late 

user2 wait, why isn’t she spending summer break with nando?

→ user3 because he’s on holiday 

→ user2 without her? 

→ user4 they don’t have to spend every minute together. he’s allowed to have a break 

user5 guys, y/n and fernando don’t follow each other anymore?

→ user6 i thought you were lying but then i checked and it’s true :( 

→ user7 oh that captions hit extra hard

user8 no because her entire life is racing and now that it’s not there, she realises she misses it

→ user9 she misses him

user10 i’m so confused. they were so in love like two weeks ago. what happened?

user11 no because i can’t imagine seeing fernando without y/n

user12 is he still going to support the twins? 

user13 but you were supposed to get married to fernando and have lots of little alonso’s

→ user14 maybe one of them didn’t want that 

→ user15 can’t imagine it being alonso, he thinks the world of the twins

→ user16 true. he does mention them in almost every interview 

user1 when i remembered f2 were racing this weekend, i was so happy because that meant y/n and nando content and then i remembered they’d broken up

→ user2 all the tweets on here are tearing my heart out as well 

user3 they’ve not spoken to each other once today

user4 yes she walked straight past him but there’s clips of her entire face crumpling as soon as she’s past him

→ user5 yes! i saw that. her colleague had to usher her into the garage before she started crying 

user6 the fact that fernando spent the entire time watching her though

→ user7 even when people were talking to him, he was full on staring at her

→ user8 brokenhearted lover boy made no attempts to hide it 

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Baby Fever Angst Series

Love that I mentioned request for Esteban once and I already have 5 requests 😂 I didn't realise there was that much love for Ocon considering I can never find any fics for him

tag list

[silversurfersx]

media duties | f1grid

part 2

f1 grid x driver!reader [smau]

summary: in which the reader tries to escape her media duties

faceclaim: jamie chadwick and random people I found on pinterest

warnings: fluff, swearing

___

___

liked by user, user, user and others

f1gossip: williams driver y/n y/l/n was seen entering the redbull garage. Is redbull looking outside their junior team for a possible perez replacement?

view comments

user: y/n I'm telling you, this isn't a good idea

user: that would be so cool

user: slow your horses redbull, the seat's still warm

redbullracing: this is news to me

yourusername: same

user: what about yuki and liam

user: and isack

user: I don't think she's got the pace

user: how the fuck is she supposed to have the right pace in a williams user: the right talent finds the pace anywhere yourusername: that's deep man user: y/n cheering on her own hate comments, lol

___

alex_albon posted a story

[caption: netflix I've found her]

yourusername: betrayed by my own teammate, I can't believe it 🥺 alex_albon: if I have to do the netflix stuff, so do you yourusername: max and oscar put all this work in to help me hide and you ruin it all😔

___

"Y/n what do you say about the redbull rumours?" The interviewer asked, stopping you in the media pen.

"Which one?" You asked, pretending to be clueless. It was a little joy of yours to give short answers to media personal. You didn't really enjoy interviews, but you understood your duties, but that didn't mean that you took them serious. You were in f1 to race, not to entertain interviewers.

"The ones regarding your possible move to redbull, leaving williams." The interviewer continued.

"They're not true." You plainly answered, grinning at the interviewer. A short glance over to your pr officer told you that she didn't support you content-less answers.

"What were you doing at redbull then?"

"Hiding."

"From?" The interviewer seemed to be more annoyed with each word.

"Netflix. They're filming for drive to survive." You answered the frustrated interviewer, giving into better worded answers.

"And you don't want to be filmed." The interviewer asked and you shook your head chuckling. "No."

___

The crowd was screaming all around you as waved at them from time to time, your eyes were focused on them but kept switching over to the front of the wagon where the interviewer was speaking with Lando. You didn't dared to walk up front, because you knew then you would be in immediate eyesight of the interviewer to pick you.

When Lando seemed to finish his talk you stepped further behind Fernando who stood beside you and looked at you with light amusement. He himself wasn't the biggest interviewer fan and tended to stay in the back. You seemed to have bonded over that.

"Don't make eye contact, Fernando, I think Lando is done." You muttered stepping behind Fernendo, hiding from the eyes up front. You crouched down slightly and Fernado aided you by carefully stepped forward to hide your body.

"They're looking at Geroge, I think you're clear." He muttered looking at you.

Leaning around Fernando you watched as Geroge stepped forward to be interviewed.

"I think Geroge is gonna be the last interview." You said standing back up.

"Great. We escaped once again." Fernando chuckled and you joined.

___

liked by alex_albon, maxverstappen1, lewishamilton and others

yourusername: yacht, brother, nephew. life is good! ⛵🧑🏽🧒🏼🌼

view comments

alex_albon: james has been calling you nonstop

yourusername: I don't have my phone alex_albon: how are you posting the pictures then? yourusername: my laptop alex_albon: you have been taking those pictures with your laptop? 😐🤨 yourusername: yes.

user: is she hiding out on her yacht?

user: is netflix looking for you again?

yourusername: yes

charles_leclerc: where is my invitation? Alex wanted to see the little man too

yourusername: she can come, auggie misses her too😊 alexandrasaintmleux: ahh I can't wait 🥰 charles_leclerc: what about me? yourusername: gotta ask auggie yourusername: he says to bring lec if you want to come charles_leclerc: sure 'he' 🙄

williamsracing: james wants us to tell you that you get a strike if you keep putting off his calls

yourusername: 👍

user: she really gives no fucks

user: not when she knows that netflix is involved

___

"Hello?" You finally picked up James' call, after a few too many unanswered calls made you feel bad for not answering. Putting on your most innocent voice, you hoped he wouldn't be too mad.

"Y/n, where are you?" James asked his voice urgent and stressed. You grimaced at the tone, swearing internally.

"Home in Monaco on my yacht. Why?"

Jame groaned on the other side of the line. "Y/n, Netflix has been standing in front of your flat for an hour. You were supposed to be filming for them."

"Why, I didn't agree to them filming me at home. Only that it's okay if they follow me during races." You argued, clearly remembering those conditions.

"They didn't have any footage of you during the races, so they wanted to film a little segment with you in monaco." James argued. "I told you about that and asked if that was alright and you said 'yeah, yeah, alright'."

You frowned thinking back if he you did agree to that. And deep in a memory you pushed away you did remeber agreeing.

"Fuck!" You muttered. "What do I do?"

You knew that you couldn't escaped them now, you had your duties, whether you liked them or not.

"I'm gonna call the director and explain the situation and you are gonna go back to your apartment and just do a few hours of filming, after I promise to try to keep them off your back. Just please try to do this this once."

"Okay, I will, sorry James. Thank you." You muttered feeling bad for the stress you had caused the man and if filming a bit of dts got them off your back, you had to push through. "But only in my flat, I don't want them filming my family."

"Alright, thank you. I know you don't like the media, but it is important, I need you to understand that." James insisted

"Yeah, and I'm sorry again for pushing it off. I gotta go now, bye." You muttered.

"Goodbye." James replied.

You hung up and groaned. Why did you agree to Netflix in the first place?

The sound of your nephew on the top deck brought you out of your thoughts and made you step up the stairs.

"Well off to hell."

___

yourusername posted a story

maxverstappen1: did they get you yourusername: yes😔

[pitlanepeach]

Radio Silence | Chapter Forty-Three

Lando Norris x Amelia Brown (OFC)

Series Masterlist

Summary — Order is everything. Her habits aren’t quirks, they’re survival techniques. And only three people in the world have permission to touch her: Mom, Dad, Fernando.

Then Lando Norris happens.

One moment. One line crossed. No going back.

Warnings — Autistic!OFC, pregnancy, strong language, birth, post-birth emotional disconnect.

Notes — Feeling sentimental. I really love you all so much. Thank you for your support and interest in this fic. It has meant the world to me. That said... TWO MORE CHAPTERS TO GO

2024 

This was not the plan.

Barefoot was not the plan. Leggings soaked through with amniotic fluid and pain spiking low in her back like white-hot wire as her mom helped her out of the car was not the plan.

Thirty-eight weeks wasn’t pre-term. Everyone kept reassuring her, saying that she was full-term. Normal. Fine. But it wasn’t the plan. Her spreadsheet had said forty weeks. Her due date was still two weeks away.

Her brain had been prepped for forty. And this — this was chaos.

The private maternity wing at Northamptonshire General was everything she’d asked for. Calm. Modern. Quiet.

But not now.

Now it was too bright. Too noisy. Too uncontrolled.

Amelia flinched as the double doors to the ward opened automatically, the high-pitched whirring mechanical sound cutting sharp through her head. She shrank in on herself as the fluorescent lights bounced off polished linoleum and made her vision haze.

Her hands fluttered in midair, then pinched hard at the inside of her elbows. Over and over. She knew it was going to leave bruises. She didn’t care.

“Contraction,” she gasped, one hand bracing the wall. “Stop. Wait—”

Tracey was there, one hand between Amelia’s shoulder blades, the other pressing the call bell. “You’re okay, baby,” her mum whispered. “You’re doing so good.”

Amelia shook her head rapidly, breath catching in her throat. The pain wrapped around her middle like a vice and pulled. The floor tilted. The lights burned through her skull. Her mouth opened but nothing came out except a panicked inhale.

“Amelia?”

The voice was low. Calm. Warm, but neutral. Controlled.

Fiona.

Familiar. Early 40s. Irish accent. Quiet shoes. Soft jumper. Smelled like vanilla and Dettol. Amelia had met her a handful of times now, for appointments. She liked Fiona. Fiona didn’t make her feel like she was wrong for needing things said twice, or for needing silence, or for asking for bullet points on birth options.

“Alright. Hi, honey. It’s good to see you. I’ve got you,” Fiona said, stepping in close without touching her. “You're safe. The lights are bright, I know. We’re going to move to a quiet room, and there’s some fairy lights strung up in there. Would that help?”

Amelia nodded so fast her braid whipped against her shoulder.

“Can I take your hand?” Fiona asked gently.

Another nod. Shaky this time.

Fiona’s hand was warm. Dry.

They turned the corner into a private room, and as soon as the door shut behind them, Fiona moved with crisp efficiency — lowering the lights, drawing the blinds, speaking to the nurse in a clipped whisper. The temperature adjusted. The tones softened.

Still, Amelia kept stimming — fingers now tapping the underside of her chin in fast, repeated bursts. The pain was stealing her words.

She needed Lando.

She needed Lando.

“I’m going to say everything out loud before I do it, okay?” Fiona said. “Your blood pressure, then we’ll get you on the monitor. You’re safe. Nothing’s being done without your say-so.”

“Where’s—” Amelia rasped.

“Lando?” Tracey translated from her side, rubbing her shoulder. “He’s coming, baby. Three hours. Your dad just text. They're already on the plane.”

Amelia shook her head again, furious tears springing to her eyes. “He should—he should’ve answered the phone. Why didn’t he—he should have answered my call.”

“I know,” Fiona said softly, and she meant it. “I know. But you’re doing this. And you are not alone. Do you want your headphones?”

Amelia blinked.

“I remember you had sensory overload in your birth plan. I’ve got noise-cancelling ones I can give you. Music, white noise, or just silence.”

“White noise,” Amelia croaked.

Fiona pulled them from the drawer. Slid them on gently. Adjusted them without touching her ears.

The static hum clicked on and it helped.

The room dulled. The air stopped buzzing so loud. Her limbs stopped flinching like she was being shocked.

“Better?” Fiona asked.

Amelia gave a thumbs up.

“Okay, love. We’ll time the next contraction together. You just let it happen. I’ll talk you through everything. Then I’m going to pop your legs up, and we’ll see how dilated you are, okay?”

Amelia nodded.

Squeezed her mom's hand with bone-breaking force.

And held tight to the image of Lando — messy curls, warm eyes, that breathless voice — walking through the door.

He would come.

She just had to hold out until he did.

—

Lando was pacing.

Still in his race suit, hair matted to his forehead, jaw locked so tight it ached.

The garage was quiet—the kind of quiet that only follows an early retirement. It wasn’t peace. It was tension. It was post-mortem silence.

It was stunned mechanics and snapped radio comms and the faint echo of tyres being wheeled away.

On the overhead screen, Oscar was being handed the P2 trophy on the podium.

Lando couldn't even look.

He was still reliving Turn 3.

The outside line. Max. The squeeze. The goddamn nudge.

The second he felt the contact, he knew it was done.

Puncture. Floor damage. Game over.

Both of them out. Two DNFs. No points. Just fury.

He’d thrown his gloves across the garage the moment he climbed out.

Now his hands were still shaking, chest still tight with adrenaline and rage.

“Fucking dickhead,” he muttered under his breath, pacing. “Every time. Every single fucking time—he can’t help himself.”

No one said anything. No one dared.

The media would already be writing the headlines.

‘Norris cracks under championship pressure.’

He didn’t care.

His phone had buzzed three times. He didn’t look at it.

He didn’t want to see who the hell was brave enough to be the first one to call him.

Didn’t want to deal with PR or statements or apologies.

He just wanted to scream. And maybe punch Max in the face.

He spun again—too fast. Nearly walked straight into Zak.

“Jesus, Lando—” Zak grabbed his arm. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“I know,” Lando snapped, still breathless, still fuming. “Sorry. I just—Max—he fucking ruined it.”

Zak didn’t even flinch. “Forget Max. You need to listen to me. We have to go. Now.”

Lando’s stomach dropped.

“What?” he said, blinking. “Go where?”

“Home. To England. Amelia just called.”

The words hit harder than the collision.

His face drained. All the heat of his anger snapped to cold panic.

“What—what's wrong?” His voice cracked.

“She’s in labour. Tracey’s with her. She tried to call you—she’s okay, far as I know—but it’s happening. Now.”

Lando staggered back a step, pulling out his phone with shaking hands.

Three missed calls. Two texts. One from Tracey. One from Amelia.

Amelia:

IN LABOUR!

Tracey:

She’s okay. We’re on our way to the hospital. Northamptonshire, as planned. Get here fast.

“Fuck,” he breathed, pressing the phone to his forehead. “I didn’t answer—she called, and I didn’t—fuck.”

The guilt hit like a punch to the chest.

Two weeks early.

Was it the crash?

The stress?

She was watching. She always watched. She was on the comms today too, wasn’t she?

Did watching him get taken out—watching the car spin, the team panic—did that trigger something?

Did he do this?

His throat felt raw. “Is she in pain? Is she scared?”

“I don’t know. All she did was tell me to come and get you,” Zak said quietly. “That’s all. But if we don’t move now—”

Lando didn’t wait.

He ran.

Helmet abandoned. Suit unzipped. Gloves forgotten.

Sprinting down the paddock like the lights had gone green again and everything was on the line.

He nearly collided with Oscar, fresh from the podium, champagne still drying on his suit.

“Lando?” Oscar said, frowning. “What’s going on?”

“Amelia’s in labour.”

Oscar’s eyes went wide. “Wait—now?”

“Yes, now!” Lando barked, eyes wild. “And I missed her call. I missed it. I’m not there, and she needs me—fuck—”

Behind them: rapid footsteps. Heavy breathing.

“What the fuck is going on?” Max, fresh from media, damp curls plastered to his forehead. Still in his suit. Still furious—until he saw Lando’s face.

“Amelia’s in labour,” Oscar said, breathless.

Max went still. “Shit.”

“She’s on her way to the hospital,” Lando said, voice cracking. “And I’m not there. I didn’t answer—I was so fucking angry, and I didn’t check, and she—” He clenched his fists. “What if it was the race? What if we stressed her out so much that it happened early? What if I fucked this up too?”

“Hey—no,” Oscar said quickly, stepping forward. “No, mate.”

Max grabbed his arm. “Fuck the race. I don’t give a shit. We need to go.”

“You just crashed into me,” Lando snapped. “Why are you even talking to me?”

Max didn’t even blink. “Because she’s my family, mate.”

There was a beat of silence. Lando swallowed.

“My jet’s at the airfield,” Max added. “Fastest way to England. No bullshit. Let’s go.”

Zak jogged up behind them, car keys in hand. “You can bring the whole damn grid for all I care. But we leave now if you want to make it in time.”

Lando’s lungs hurt. His heart was racing.

Oscar beside him. Max right behind. Zak in front.

Don’t let me miss her, he thought, over and over. Please. Please don’t let me miss her.

—

The receptionist barely looked up before buzzing the doors open.

Lando didn’t wait. He shoved through them, sprinting.

His shoes squeaked against polished linoleum.

His heart was hammering. His brain was a mess of white noise and guilt and prayer.

He was too late. He was too late.

He should’ve answered the phone.

Should’ve known.

Should’ve been there.

The midwife at the station looked up just as he rounded the corner.

“Norris?” She asked knowingly.

He nearly collapsed with relief. “Yes. I’m—yes. I’m Lando. My wife—Amelia—”

“She’s okay,” the midwife said quickly, already standing. “Room 307. I’ll take you.”

He didn’t hear the rest. He was already moving.

The lights were too bright. The walls too white. His skin itched with leftover adrenaline and travel-sweat. He still wore his fireproofs under his hoodie, and he felt like he might vibrate out of his skin.

You weren’t here.

He turned a corner.

She needed you.

He reached the door.

And stopped.

He could hear her.

Not words—just breath. Short, shallow, uneven. The sound of someone trying not to panic.

He opened the door.

Amelia was there. On the bed.

Half propped up on pillows, her hospital gown pulled tight over her belly. Her hands fisted in the thin blanket. Her face flushed with pain.

A yellow golf-ball in her lap.

Her head snapped up when she saw him.

And for a moment, neither of them said anything.

“You took so long,” she whispered, voice wrecked.

Lando crossed the room in three steps, already shaking. “I know. I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry. I didn’t check my phone—I was—I was pissed off with how my race ended and I didn’t think and I should’ve known—fuck—” He dropped to his knees beside her, pressed his forehead to her arm. “I thought I’d be too late,” he said into her skin.

Amelia reached out—tangled her fingers in his hair—and tugged, sharp. “Stop,” she said, voice hoarse. “None of that.”

His eyes were already red. His cheeks wet. He didn’t know when he’d started crying.

She looked exhausted. Pale under the flush. But she was here. And so was he. Finally.

“You didn't miss it,” she said. “She waited for you.”

“Of course she did,” he whispered. And then he kissed her. “And you. You’re the strongest fucking woman in the world. You know that?”

She exhaled a laugh. “I’m also five centimetres dilated and out of patience, so if you want to be helpful—please hand me that cup of ice.”

He did. With shaking hands.

“My mom braided my hair,” she added after a moment, voice softer now. “You missed that part.”

“I’m not going to miss anything else,” he promised.

He kissed her forehead. Her temple. Her knuckles. Gave her mom a small smile.

Tracey was sat in the corner, near the window, working on a knitting project. They looked like tiny booties from what he could see.

He’d hug her later. Thank her a million times just for being there — even though he knew she wouldn’t choose to be anywhere else in the world rather than at Amelia’s beck and call.

“I ran through the paddock,” he murmured. “Max and Oscar came too. We took Max’s jet. Your dad nearly had a coronary at the airport.”

Her eyes softened. “They came?”

“Yeah.” He brushed her damp hair back. “They’re all downstairs. Waiting. Your dad wasn’t sure you’d want him here, didn’t want to overwhelm you. They’re freaking out. Because they love you.”

“I want them to come and say hi after,” she said. Her face twisted with discomfort. “But— I just it want it to be you and my mom, okay? Until she’s here.”

“Okay, baby. Whatever you want.” His fingers slid over hers. “I— I need to call my parents.”

“I already took care of that, honey. They’re on their way.” Tracey said.

Lando exhaled with relief.

Then he leaned in and kissed his wife and said, “You have never looked more beautiful than you do right now.”

—

It was over.

Except it wasn’t.

There was a cry.

And then hands, gentle, practised, passing something small and slippery and impossibly alive onto Amelia’s chest.

“Here she is, Amelia,” Fiona said softly. “You did it. She’s here. Healthy and pink.”

Amelia couldn’t speak.

She couldn’t think.

Because everything in her brain was screaming: “this isn’t real.”

This wasn’t how she’d rehearsed it in her head. In her spreadsheets. In the checklist she’d kept taped to the fridge.

This wasn’t theoretical.

This wasn’t a due date or a biometric scan or the size of a cantaloupe at 38 weeks.

This was weight. Heat. Movement.

A baby. Her baby.

On her. In her arms.

Not inside anymore.

The disconnect hit her like a crash.

Amelia flinched; only slightly, but enough that Fiona paused, watching.

And so did Lando. And her mom.

Her breathing had gone shallow again. She was blinking fast, trying to recalibrate.

The baby; the baby, the baby — it wasn’t a concept.

It was a person. With skin and breath and a heart that was beating fast.

A heart that had come from her.

Amelia’s whole body trembled. Not from pain, but from the sheer impossibility of it all.

Ada.

Her name had been a theory. A hope.

Now it was a face. A body. Tiny hands.

But faces were hard. Faces moved. Eyes blinked. Skin flushed. Tiny limbs twitched.

And she was touching her. Skin to skin. The warmth was overwhelming.

Every sensory processor in Amelia’s brain screamed. She wanted to dissapear. She wanted to cry. She wanted to understand — and she didn’t.

“You’re okay, baby,” Lando whispered from beside her, voice cracked and reverent. “Just let yourself have a few minutes. Just… just look at her.”

Amelia’s hands hovered uselessly in the air, a few inches away from Ada’s damp, curled back. She couldn’t bring herself to touch.

“I don’t know what to do,” she said, voice paper-thin. “I don’t—I don’t know her.”

Fiona gently nudged Ada higher. “She knows you. Smell, heartbeat, voice. She knows you, Amelia.”

But that made it worse.

Because Amelia was so full of love she couldn’t speak — but she was also full of fear, static, disorientation. Her brain was desperately trying to map a new universe with no manual.

Lando leaned in. Rested his forehead to hers. One hand on Ada’s back. One over Amelia’s hand, still hovering.

“You’re doing it,” he said softly. “You’re already doing it.”

Ada made a small sound — nothing loud, just a hum. A nuzzle. A twitch of her mouth.

And Amelia finally, finally, laid both hands over her daughter’s back. Just fingertips.

Ada shifted, rooting instinctively.

“She’s a hungry girl,” Fiona said, voice warm and gentle. “Would you like some help?”

Amelia nodded, but her eyes stayed locked on Ada — this tiny, impossible thing who had been an abstract dream for nine months and now weighed heavy and warm on her chest.

She guided her with Fiona's aid, shaking slightly; and Ada latched like she’d done it in a past life.

“Look at that,” Fiona whispered. “First try.”

Lando made a choked sound. “Daddy’s girl.”

Amelia didn’t even look at him. She reached blindly, grabbed the empty bedpan from the table beside the bed, and whipped it in his direction.

It bounced harmlessly off his leg. He laughed.

“I deserved that,” he murmured.

Amelia still didn’t look away from Ada.

Her fingers, once frozen, were now stroking her daughter’s back. Tentative. Learning.

“I don’t understand how she’s real,” she whispered.

“It’s okay,” Lando said, voice barely a breath. “You’ve got a lifetime to learn her.”

Amelia’s throat closed. A single tear slid down her cheek, hot and sharp.

Ada suckled rhythmically, peacefully. Her skin flushed. Her impossibly tiny hands curled into fists.

And Amelia fell in love. 

—

The room was quiet.

Tracey had slipped out to tell the world that Ada Rossella Norris had arrived safely. That Amelia was okay.

In the soft lamplight and afterbirth hush, everything stood still.

Lando sat half-on the bed, one arm wrapped around Amelia’s shoulders, the other curled around her waist.

Ada lay nestled between them, tiny cheek resting against her mother’s chest, her breath a faint whisper of warmth.

Amelia hadn’t spoken in a while.

Not since the first latch. Not since the bedpan throw.

She was staring down at Ada like she couldn’t possibly look away. Like if she blinked, this would all turn out to have been a dream.

Her fingers moved slowly—carefully. Memorising. Mapping. A tactile inventory.

“She has your nose,” Amelia murmured, her voice cracked and reverent. “But flatter. Less of the Norris ski slope.”

Lando huffed a laugh against her temple. “I don’t have a ski slope.”

“You do,” she said, brushing a finger over the curve of Ada’s. “But it’s endearing. Especially in winter photos.”

She stroked over Ada’s tiny forehead. “And my pouty lips. Poor thing.”

“Baby.”

“It’s okay. She’ll grow into them.” Amelia paused, then added, “Her ears are yours. Exactly. Same tilt. Same soft cartilage. She’s going to hate them in school and love them by the time she’s an adult.”

Lando’s grip on her tightened, just slightly. “She’s perfect.”

“I know.” Amelia’s voice cracked. “She’s so real.”

Ada squirmed softly, stretching a hand, and Amelia caught it — thumb gently placed against tiny fingers.

“She has fingernails,” she whispered, as though it shocked her. “Actual fingernails.”

Lando kissed her hair. “Yeah. She’s a whole person.”

Amelia was quiet again, but only for a second. And then, still not looking up, she began to speak.

“Ada,” she said, voice low and even, like she was introducing the baby to the room, to her own existence. “You were born on a Sunday. In a maternity ward in Northamptonshire. At 38 weeks and three days. You came early because you are, apparently, impatient. Or maybe just a bit dramatic. Your dad swears it had nothing to do with the fact that he and Max crashed and stressed your mummy out. I’m not convinced.”

Lando groaned softly, head tilted back against the wall. “Don’t blame her dramatic entrance on my DNF.”

“I’m just saying,” Amelia murmured, brushing Ada’s cheek, “the timing is suspicious.”

Ada twitched, shifting closer into her chest.

“Well, then, let’s see. You’re part British, part Belgium, part American, but I’m not sure you’ll be jumping to claim that last one. You have a Formula One driver for a daddy. And an engineer for a mummy.”

Lando chuckled. His hand came up to rest over hers, both of them cupping their daughter together.

“You’ll grow up in paddocks. You’ll learn to walk in motorhomes. Your first sunscreen will be whatever your mummy can find in the team stash. Everyone’s going to spoil you rotten. Oscar, well, that’s your Uncle Ducky — he’s already bought you this sweet little onesie with a hundred tiny little cartoon ducks on it. And Max, Verstappen, well, that’ll be your uncle too. I don’t have a brother, but he’s the nearest thing.” She whispered. “But you’ll have another Uncle Max too, and that might get a bit confusing for you, but we’ll be patient.”

Amelia leaned her head on Lando’s shoulder. Her voice dipped lower, like she was confiding a secret to Ada, or maybe to herself.

“You’ll be so loved,” she said. “So much. By people who’ve waited their whole lives to meet you. By a daddy who would cross the continent in race boots to get to you in time. By me, even when I’m tired and anxious and unsure of how to be your a mummy and a person at the same time.”

She sniffed hard, blinking fast again. “You’ve been born into a world that’s chaotic and messy and fast and loud—but it’s ours. And we’re going to make sure it’s yours, too.”

Ada breathed. Soft and slow. Eyes still closed. Tiny fist curled against her cheek.

Lando rested his chin on top of Amelia’s head.

—

Dim afternoon light pooled in soft gold across the linoleum floor, filtered through thick hospital curtains. Machines beeped softly in the background, steady and forgettable.

Amelia was sleeping.

Not deeply — her body too raw, her brain too wired — but enough to rest. Enough for her face to soften, for her lashes to flutter, for her breath to even out against the pillow.

Lando hadn’t taken his eyes off her for hours.

But now — just for a moment — he was pacing near the window, his arms full of something precious. 

Ada.

Swaddled and warm and impossibly small in his hoodie-covered forearms, her tiny head nestled into the crook of his elbow, mouth parted, breaths soft. She smelled like hospital linen and baby powder. Like nothing and everything.

Lando couldn’t stop looking at her.

He kept glancing back to Amelia, as if to make sure she was still there — still breathing, still safe, still his. And then back down to Ada again, like he couldn’t quite believe she’d made it out of someone so extraordinary.

“You know,” he said softly, voice barely above a whisper, “I really thought I’d miss it.”

He swallowed. Looked down at the little bundle blinking slowly up at him — unfocused, unaware, content.

“I was so fucking angry. You wouldn’t believe it. Max and I — well, you’ll hear those stories when you’re older. But I was in the garage, ready to murder someone, and I missed three calls.”

He shifted Ada gently in his arms, pacing another slow length of the room.

“And then your grandpa Zak came in and told me your mum was in labour and I…” He laughed under his breath. It cracked in the middle. “I think my heart actually stopped.”

Ada scrunched her nose, then relaxed again.

“I thought you might be born without me there. And I would never have forgiven myself.”

His voice dropped to a hush, as though even the words themselves were too loud.

“And knowing that your mummy was in pain, and overwhelmed, and everything would be moving too fast and she needed me — and I wasn’t there.”

Lando exhaled, slow and ragged.

“But she waited. You waited. And now you’re here.”

Ada shifted slightly, a little sigh escaping her lips like the smallest secret in the world.

Lando smiled, tears pricking at his lashes again. He bounced her gently, rocking her as he gazed out the window, the hospital grounds bathed in quiet light.

“I don’t know if I’m going to get this right,” he admitted, voice barely audible now. “Being your dad. Being your mummy’s husband. Balancing all of it. But I swear to you, Ada—” He glanced down again, kissed the side of her velvet-soft head. “I swear I will love you so much that even on the days I get it wrong, you’ll never doubt that part.”

Behind him, Amelia stirred slightly but didn’t wake.

Lando turned, adjusting Ada one-handed so he could settle into the armchair beside the bed, still cradling her close.

She was falling asleep again.

He watched her eyelids flutter.

“Everyone’s going to want to meet you soon. Oscar and Max and your grandpa Zak. My mum and dad are coming too, and they’re your other grandparents. Nanny Cisca and Grampy Adam. You’ve got a whole army of people who love you already.”

Ada didn’t respond, of course. But Lando smiled anyway.

—

There was a soft knock.

Amelia stirred at the sound, her eyes fluttering open.

Lando was beside her, Ada nestled in his arms, both of them silhouetted against the low amber light from the window. He turned toward the door at the knock, but didn’t speak.

Tracey peeked her head in first. “They’re climbing the walls out here. You ready for visitors?”

Amelia didn’t answer right away — just nodded, slow and small.

The door opened.

Her dad entered first, still in team gear, face flushed and drawn with tension that hadn’t quite released. Max followed close behind, jaw set, eyes scanning every inch of the room. Then Oscar, quietest of all, hovering in the doorway, his hands clenched around the hem of his t-shirt.

For a moment, no one spoke.

Then Zak exhaled sharply — a sound that came out almost like a sob — and crossed the room in four long strides.

“She’s here,” Lando said, voice thick with emotion.

He was smiling — tired, tearstained, messy-haired, beaming. His hoodie had been peeled back at the chest, skin-to-skin with Ada, whose sleepy face peeked just above the blanket.

Zak made it to them first. He didn’t ask permission — just leaned in, reverent, pressing one palm gently to Ada’s impossibly small back.

“Wow,” he whispered. “She’s perfect.”

His voice cracked.

“She’s healthy,” Lando said. “They both are.”

Max stood frozen for a beat, as if unsure if he was allowed to move — then his whole body softened, and he stepped forward, too. No jokes, no bravado.

He leaned down and kissed the top of Lando’s curls — and just like that, the tension of the day, of the collision and the angry team-radios, were forgotten.

Then, he looked at Ada.

“Dag meisje,” he murmured, voice low and Dutch-soft. Little girl. “What a beautiful girl you are.”

Amelia blinked over at them; Lando, crying silently, Zak with both hands now cradling the baby’s tiny back, Max brushing a finger over her little cap of dark hair.

But Oscar hadn’t moved.

He stood just inside the door, eyes locked on Amelia. Not the baby. Not Lando. Just her.

She gave him a nod.

And in an instant, Oscar crossed the room. No words — not yet — just a deep, shaking breath as he dropped to his knees beside her bed and wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

He was warm and real and trembling just slightly.

“I thought—” he choked on the words. “I didn’t know if you—”

“I’m okay,” she whispered. “It’s okay.”

Oscar nodded into her shoulder.

“Sorry I made you worry.” She told him.

“It’s fine,” he said hoarsely, voice muffled. “Did you see my podium?”

Amelia let out a breathy laugh and nodded. Then she reached for his hand and squeezed.

Behind them, Max was now peppering Lando with questions — rapid-fire Dutch, mostly — about the birth, the midwife, whether Ada had opened her eyes yet.

Zak hadn’t stopped touching Ada, like if he let go, she might disappear.

Oscar still hadn’t looked at the baby.

“Can I see her?” He asked Amelia softly.

Amelia gave another nod. “Yeah, ducky. Of course you can.”

Oscar stood, eyes wide, cautious like she was made of glass; but when Lando held Ada out to him, he took her without hesitation.

She fit perfectly into his arms.

“Hi,” he breathed, eyes going impossibly soft. “Hello, baby Ada. You look just like your mummy.”

Amelia lay back against the pillows and closed her eyes.

Her dad come and gave her a kiss on the forehead.

Max kissed both of her cheeks and told her that she looked beautiful.

And then Ada was back in her arms, all scrunchy nosed and wet-eyed, and the world narrowed down to her.

—

The house was too quiet.

Which was absurd, given they were no longer alone.

But that was exactly the problem.

The silence left too much room for Amelia’s thoughts.

She stood in the nursery, arms crossed tightly over her chest. In a baggy tee and oversized cotton pyjama pants, hair still braided but frizzed at the edges.

She hadn’t let go of Ada in hours — not really.

Even now, with Ada asleep in the crib just a few feet away, Amelia felt like she hadn’t let her go.

Lando stood a few paces behind, leaning against the doorframe in his joggers and a white t-shirt, barefoot and watching her with soft eyes.

“We don’t have to leave her,” he said gently. “Not even for a second. There’s a basket in our room for a reason, baby.”

Amelia didn’t answer.

She rubbed one hand up and down her arm, fast, rhythmic. A stim. Comfort.

“She’s just so small,” she said eventually. “And she was inside me and now she’s not, and my brain hasn’t — hasn’t caught up to the idea that she’s real and separate and still… fine.”

Lando stepped closer, slow and careful, like approaching a scared animal. Not because he thought she’d snap, but because she was stretched thin and too full and too raw, and he knew better than to rush her.

“I know,” he said. “It’s weird, right? How quiet she is? How not imaginary?”

Amelia exhaled sharply, a little laugh catching in her throat. “I keep expecting someone to come take her away. Like — like we’re just the transport team.”

Lando reached out, his hand resting lightly on the small of her back. “They handed her to us, remember? In the hospital. And no one looked worried. Not a single nurse said ‘actually, we’ve changed our minds’.”

“I don’t feel qualified.”

“You grew her.”

“I did,” she whispered, blinking hard. “And now I’m supposed to… put her in a crib and go to bed like she’s not still part of me?”

“You don’t have to,” he said again. “We can pull the moses basket all the way next to your side of the bed. You can have your hand in there with her, baby, if that’s what you need to do. And we got those little toe clips, didn’t we? To make sure she’s still breathing. I’ll set up the white noise machine. I can hold her while you shower. Or while you lie down. Whatever feels okay.”

She stared at him.

“I don’t want to close my eyes,” she admitted. “I don’t want to stop looking at her.”

“We can take turns.”

“But you need to sleep.”

“I’ll nap tomorrow.”

“Lando.”

“Amelia.”

She cracked a smile then — barely, but real.

And he took her hand, warm and grounding. “Come lie down. Just lie down. I’ll keep one hand on her and one on you. I’ll be right there.”

Amelia hesitated.

Then nodded.

She let him guide her back to their bedroom. Lando had already rearranged everything — bassinet beside the bed, a lamp dimmed low, muslins folded with surgical precision. He lifted Ada gently from the crib and laid her into the basket with infinite care.

Then he slid into bed, propped up by pillows, and held out his arms.

Amelia didn’t need to be told twice.

She curled into his side, one hand reaching instinctively toward Ada’s sleeping form, her fingers resting just beside the basket.

No blankets. No teddies. No safety hazards.

Just a perfectly swaddled baby in a white onesie, her tiny chest rising and falling in a rhythm Amelia was already memorising. A monitor was clipped gently to one of her toes — nothing intrusive, just a soft band — but if anything changed, even slightly, it would ping Lando’s phone in an instant.

“I’m going to check on her every ten minutes,” Amelia mumbled, eyes already heavy but refusing to close.

Lando kissed her hair. “That’s okay. I probably will too.”

She nodded once, almost automatically, and settled deeper against him — but her fingers didn’t move from the edge of the basket. Her mind was moving too fast to follow, darting down rabbit holes.

“Did you ever get nightmares as a child?” She asked suddenly, her voice a little hoarse.

Lando blinked. “Um. Yeah. A few. Why?”

“I read somewhere they can run in families. It’s neurological. Patterns of sleep. And I just… I want to be prepared.”

He didn’t say 'You don’t have to worry about that right now.'

He didn’t say 'Let it go.'

He knew better.

So he said, “Only when I was overtired. I’d sleepwalk too, sometimes. My mum said I used to go looking for my kart in the middle of the night.”

That made her smile a little — soft and crooked. “Of course you did.”

He chuckled under his breath. “What else do you want to know?”

“Did you have a favourite toy?”

“Plastic steering wheel. I wouldn’t let anyone else touch it. It had a red horn button. I’d sit on the living room rug and pretend I was racing.”

“Were you scared of the dark?”

Lando glanced down at her, at the way her brow was pinched just slightly.

The questions weren’t idle.

They were a defence. A rhythm.

A way to keep the storm in her head at bay.

“I hated the dark,” he said simply. “I used to leave the bathroom light on; on purpose. It used to drive my dad mad, but I didn’t want to admit that it was because the dark hallway scared me.”

She was quiet for a moment, her hand still resting near the basket.

“I need to hold her,” she said finally. Her voice didn’t wobble, but her lip did. “Just for a minute. Just to make sure she’s… she’s okay.”

Lando didn’t even hesitate. “She’s yours, baby,” he murmured. “Ours. We can hold her whenever we want.”

So he got up and placed Ada gently in her mother’s arms, careful not to wake her.

Amelia’s breath hitched as she pulled their daughter close, cupping the back of her tiny head, pressing her lips to soft baby hair and inhaling like she was trying to fuse them back together.

And Lando just watched.

“I’m scared,” she whispered, eyes still locked on Ada.

“I know.”

“But I love her so much I can’t even — there’s no room left in me for anything else, Lando.”

He brushed her curls back from her forehead. “I know. Baby, I know.”

She smiled at him wetly. “Thank you for giving me her.”

He kissed her, soft and sweet and gentle.

—

By day three, the house had softened.

They’d settled into a new kind of rhythm. One shaped around feeds and burps and naps so short they barely even counted. The clock meant nothing anymore. Light filtered in and out of the windows. Lando had stopped checking the date. Amelia had stopped pretending not to be terrified by every sound Ada made.

But the bleeding had slowed. The cramps had faded. The adult diapers were gone — finally, thank God — and Amelia was wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants as she sat cross-legged on the couch with Ada against her chest.

The baby nursed noisily, fingers flexing near her mother’s collarbone, head resting in the crook of Amelia’s arm.

In her free hand, Amelia held her iPad — an older engineering article open, written by Adrian, full of dense paragraphs and complex diagrams about brake duct airflow and thermal optimisation. She read it aloud like a lullaby, her voice soft but steady.

“‘By increasing the front duct’s diameter by 2.3 millimetres, the delta in peak rotor temp dropped below critical thresholds in high-deg circuits, including Catalunya and Marina Bay…’ You hear that, Ada? Heat efficiency. That’s how we stay fast and safe.”

Ada made a small noise — halfway between a sigh and a snuffle — and latched more firmly.

Lando passed through the room with a laundry basket in his arms. His curls were still wet from a rushed shower, and he wore mismatched socks. But he smiled when he saw them.

“She asleep yet?” He asked, pausing.

“Almost.” Amelia didn’t look up from her screen. “We’re learning about regenerative braking.”

“Alright, baby,” Lando said, and disappeared toward the washing machine.

The doorbell rang just as Amelia was settling Ada into the bassinet. Ada didn’t flinch, but Amelia suddenly startled and stared at her little sleeping form with a frown.

Was she too cold? Was her neck at the wrong angle? Had she been burped properly—

“It’s okay,” Lando said, his voice low. “She’s fine. I’ll get the door. You stay and watch her.”

She nodded, stepping back, watching the rise and fall of her daughter’s chest like it was the only thing tethering her to the earth.

And then: voices. Familiar ones.

Max (Fewtrell) and Pietra. Their laughter was gentle, not loud — filtered with care.

“Hey,” Max said, stepping into the living room with a Tupperware box already in hand. “We’ve both antibacced our hands. We come in peace.”

Pietra went straight to Amelia, arms already open. She didn’t say anything, just wrapped her up in a firm hug — grounding, real, warm — and kissed the side of her head.

“You have done so well,” she whispered.

Amelia didn’t cry, but her throat caught. “Thanks. She’s… she’s perfect. I’m just tired.”

“We know.”

Meanwhile, Max clapped Lando on the shoulder, hard. “Mate. You look like you’ve seen things.”

“I’ve seen things,” Lando muttered, rubbing his eyes.

“Go sit down. We’ve got this.”

They didn’t ask to hold Ada. Didn’t hover or coo or crowd. Pietra pulled on rubber gloves and started wiping down the kitchen counters like it was the most natural thing in the world. Max took out the bins. Then he came back in and started unloading the dishwasher without asking where anything went.

Amelia watched all of it from the couch, stunned by how quickly the air changed — less pressure, more breathing room.

“You don’t need to do all that,” she murmured.

“We want to,” Pietra said, straightening up with a dish towel in her hand. “This is the bit no one helps with, and it’s the bit that matters.”

Lando appeared beside Amelia, dropping onto the couch, sliding a hand over her knee. She leaned into him automatically.

“Tell them thank you,” she whispered, eyes half-shut.

He did. She already knew he would.

And for the first time since Ada’s birth, Amelia let herself fully exhale. Not just a breath. A letting-go. Just a moment.

The baby was sleeping.

The house was quiet.

And they were not alone.

—

They took Ada out for her first proper walk on a Tuesday.

The sky was low and soft, pale blue smudged with thin clouds. Not warm, not cold. Just… fresh. There was the smell of cut grass in the air and the quiet hum of summer insects returning to their business.

The pram rolled smoothly along the country trail, thick tyres handling the uneven gravel without so much as a jolt. Lando had triple-checked the suspension before they left the house.

Now he hovered two steps behind Amelia, a muslin cloth draped over one shoulder, spare dummy in his hoodie pocket, checking the pram’s hood every three seconds like the sun might have suddenly grown sharper.

“Do you think it’s too bright?” He asked, squinting up. “Should we have brought the other hat?”

Amelia didn’t break stride. “She’s fine.”

“What if she gets cold?”

“She’s in a fleece-lined sleep suit and the foot muff, Lando. She’s not cold.”

He hesitated. “I just—she’s so little. Doesn’t feel right to have her out here.”

Amelia’s expression softened, but only a little. She didn’t stop walking. “Fresh air is important for newborns. It regulates their circadian rhythm. Improves lung function. Strengthens immune development.”

Lando jogged a step to fall in beside her, peeking into the pram. “I know. I just feel like she should still be wrapped in bubble wrap. Or, I don’t know… a titanium exosuit.”

Amelia side-eyed him. “She’s a human baby.”

“Yeah. But she’s our human baby.”

Amelia finally looked over at him, a tiny smirk playing at the corner of her mouth, eyes still scanning the trail ahead. “Lando. She’s okay. I promise.”

He huffed, shifting closer to peer into the pram again. “I know. I—I do know. But she’s just… so small.”

“She’s also fast asleep.” Amelia nodded toward the pram. Sure enough, Ada’s tiny features were slack with the soft stillness of newborn sleep, one fist curled near her chin and her lips parted slightly, breath feathering.

Lando smiled, almost reluctantly. “She really is perfect.”

Amelia slowed a little, letting the rhythm of her footsteps match the soft crunch of gravel underfoot. Her hand brushed against his, and when he didn’t pull away, she laced their fingers together.

“She’ll be okay,” she said, softer now. “I’m going to be good at this part. The structure. The systems. The planning. Schedules. Routines.”

“You’ve been good at all of it,” Lando said without hesitation.

She wrinkled her nose. “Maybe not all of it.”

“Name one thing you’ve been bad at so far,” he challenged, raising a brow.

“Holding her while she cries,” she replied instantly, too fast and too honest. “I never know how to help. I just freeze.”

He shook his head. “Doesn’t count. You can just wear your ear defenders.”

“I think they scare her,” she admitted, glancing away. “She cries harder when I put them on.”

Lando nudged her shoulder gently. “Nah. She’ll get used to them. Babies cry. That’s literally their job.”

She gave a quiet laugh, tugged closer by his steadiness. “Yeah. That sounds about right.”

They walked in silence for a minute, the trees rustling softly around them, the path dappled in filtered light.

“You want me to push her for a bit?” He asked.

She nodded and handed over the pram with a small sigh of relief, flexing her fingers. “My arms were starting to ache, and I don’t even know why. I wasn’t carrying her.”

“It’s the new mum muscle fatigue,” he said knowingly. “Totally scientific.”

She snorted, then went quiet for a beat. “I’m so glad I’m not, like, constantly peeing myself anymore. That was weird.”

Lando nodded. “Honestly, I think you handled it really well.”

She gave him a side-glance, almost shy. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He reached out and squeezed her hand again. “I was expecting way more tears. And not from Ada.”

“There were tears. I just cried in the shower.”

He smiled, but it was soft and genuine. “I know.”

Amelia exhaled, some of the tension rolling off her shoulders. The walk, the fresh air, the steady feel of his hand wrapped around hers — it all helped. Ada stirred once in her sleep, a tiny sound escaping her lips, and they both stopped walking for a second, listening.

Still asleep.

They exchanged a glance — equal parts relief and awe — and kept walking.

—

Later that evening, their house glowed with the golden warmth of soft lighting, the scent of something mildly burnt wafting from the oven (Lando insisted it was “crispy” on purpose). The table was already set — half by Lando, half by Cisca, who had taken it upon herself to silently reorganise the cutlery the moment she walked in.

Dinner was simple. Pasta. Store-bought garlic bread. A pre-made chocolate tart that Adam had brought with a proud grin and a whispered, “Don’t let Lando see the packaging — he’ll think his mother spent hours making this.”

Ada had just gone down in her bassinet upstairs.

Amelia hovered in the hallway, half listening, half pacing, fingers twitching at her sleeves. She’d made it through dinner prep, through greeting Lando’s parents and making small talk, but her ears were tuned in a thousand different directions — to the baby monitor, to the creak of the upstairs floorboards, to the faintest imagined cry in the silence.

“She’s okay,” Lando said gently, coming to stand beside her. “She’s asleep.”

“I think you’re wrong,” Amelia said, clutching her elbows. “Or she was and now she’s not. Or she will be and then she won’t be, and then they’ll all want to hold her and I’ll have to say no because she’s finally down and they’ll think I’m rude—”

“Okay,” Lando said, calm and sure and already moving past her.

She blinked. “What are you doing?”

“Getting her.”

“Lando—”

But he was already climbing the stairs. Moments later, he reappeared with Ada bundled in her swaddle inside her moses basket, blinking in that newborn stunned way, somewhere between wakefulness and sleep. He paused only to press a kiss to the top of Amelia’s head before disappearing into the kitchen.

Amelia followed him, heart caught somewhere between panic and confusion — until she saw what he’d done.

He’d cleared the centrepiece from the kitchen table. Moved the salt and pepper. And right in the middle, like the guest of honour, was Ada. Swaddled and content, her moses basket taking pride of place between the lasagna and the chocolate tart.

Everyone paused.

Then started to laugh.

“Lando,” Cisca laughed. “You did not just put the baby on the table.”

“We can keep an eye on her,” he shrugged, completely deadpan.

Even Amelia, still frazzled, couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her. Her shoulders dropped. Her heart settled.

“Okay,” she said softly, moving closer and brushing her fingers across Ada’s cheek. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe.” He grinned. “But she’s calm. And you’re calm too. So I win.”

The rest of dinner was easy. Light. Ada stayed asleep, safe in the middle of it all. Lando’s parents only peeked at her — no passing her around, no unsolicited advice. Just gentle smiles and hands folded in laps and the occasional, “She’s so beautiful.”

Amelia stared at her daughter as she ate her lasagna.

And there would be photos passed around in fifteen years time. Of a baby in the middle of the dinner table, in different outfits during different times of the year. Easter and Christmas and Birthdays. Newborn and then not.

Ada Rossella Norris, fifteen years old, will blush and squeak and say, “Mum, that’s so weird! Why was I on the table?”

And Amelia will swipe her hand across her daughter’s freckled cheek and say, “Where else would you be?”

—

Amelia sat cross-legged on the couch, one of her old engineering textbooks open in her lap. It was more comfort object than useful now — dense equations and fluid mechanics — but it gave her something to hold, something to do.

From down the hall, the sound of water running filled the quiet.

She turned a page absently. Then another.

Then paused, head tilting slightly.

Lando’s voice drifted out from the bathroom. Soft. Muffled. A kind of singsong narration.

“There’s your little foot… and here’s your other one… look at those perfect toes, Ada-bug…”

Just her husband. Bathing their daughter.

Amelia closed the book, the spine pressing into her palm.

She didn’t need to go check. Didn’t need to see with her own eyes to know he was being gentle, and cautious, and silly, and Lando.

And the realisation landed with no fanfare, no dramatic swell of emotion — just a quiet, settled truth.

She trusted him.

Completely.

With the most precious thing in the entire world.

She tucked the book beside her and got up slowly, padding barefoot to the doorway of the bathroom, where Lando knelt beside the little tub, sleeves rolled up, Ada’s soft, soapy body cradled between his careful hands.

He looked up and grinned when he saw her.

“Hey,” he whispered. “She loves the water.”

Amelia leaned against the doorframe, her eyes soft.

“I like it too,” she said. “And I like you. Like this.”

He flushed a little, smiled wider. “Yeah?”

She nodded.

Ada squealed and splashed her fists in the water.

Amelia smiled at her little girl.

—

The paddock was quieter than it would be on race day — a lull before the storm.

Just the low hum of cameras, the occasional mechanical clatter of a forklift, and the shuffle of early-arriving team personnel cutting through the cool morning air. But even that — the muted version of Silverstone — pressed in around Amelia like static behind her eyes.

Too many overlapping sounds.

Too much motion at the edges of her vision, flickering like faulty headlights.

Ada shifted against her chest with a soft grunt, the wrap keeping her snug and swaddled, the rhythm of Amelia’s heartbeat her steady metronome. One of Amelia’s hands stayed curled protectively around the baby’s back, her thumb tracing a repetitive pattern she didn’t consciously register. A grounding mechanism. Something to keep her tethered.

Her dad met them at the back entrance of the McLaren motorhome, face gentle, voice pitched low like he was afraid to set something off.

“Hello, my beautiful baby girls,” he said, already holding the door open. “We’ve cleared the top floor. Everyone knows to stay out. You’ve got total privacy.”

Amelia gave a small nod. Didn’t speak.

Her whole focus was on getting inside — away from the press of noise, the open sky, the potential germs and the unknowns.

Lando was already there.

The moment she stepped through the doorway, he turned as if pulled by a thread. His whole expression shifted — softened in an instant — as his eyes landed on them. His daughter, safe and warm. His wife, upright and moving, even if she looked like she was carrying the weight of the world and then some.

“You made it,” he breathed.

“I said I would,” Amelia murmured. “I made a plan.”

And the plan was always the comfort.

He didn’t crowd her, just hovered at her side as she allowed herself to be guided up the narrow staircase to the engineer’s meeting room. It had been transformed — not sterile, not chaotic. Just… still.

The blinds were drawn. The harsh fluorescents replaced with soft lamp lighting. A white noise machine hummed gently in the corner, masking the distant clatter of wheel guns and rolling crates. Someone had set up a chair by the window, a footstool just beneath it, a bottle of water and sanitiser waiting on a little table nearby. She didn’t know who had prepared it. Probably more than one person. That thought, strangely, comforted her.

Amelia sank into the chair and exhaled for what felt like the first time all morning.

Lando crouched beside her, fingers light on the edge of the wrap. He didn’t try to take Ada. Just looked at her like he was memorising the details — her milk-drunk mouth, the dusky pink of her cheeks, the faintest tuft of dark hair under her little hat.

“Hi, baby girl,” he whispered. “Welcome to Silverstone. A week old and you’re already in the paddock. You know how crazy that is?”

Amelia didn’t smile. Not exactly. But her shoulders loosened slightly.

“We’re only staying for an hour. Maybe less. I just want to go over the strategy notes with Tom. I’ve already emailed them, but—”

“You want to go over them in person,” Lando finished. “That’s fine. That’s perfect.”

She adjusted the wrap slightly, fingers brushing Ada’s tiny back. “It’s too soon for her to actually be here for the full weekend. Her immune system, her ears…”

“I know,” Lando said gently. “She’ll be ready soon.” Then, quieter, “Maybe in a kart.”

Amelia’s eyes snapped to his. “Only if she wants to. Only if it’s her idea.”

He lifted a hand. “Of course.”

There was a knock at the door.

Oscar stood just beyond it, holding two coffees and that neutral expression he wore when he didn’t want to spook anyone.

“Hey,” he said, eyes flicking to Amelia. “I can come back later?”

Amelia glanced at him, then at the room, then back to Ada — still sleeping, undisturbed. She gave a small nod.

Oscar stepped in with careful movements, like he knew what it cost her to allow anyone near the baby (because he did). He crouched beside the chair, not quite close enough to breach her space.

“She’s here,” he said quietly.

“Amazing, innit,” Lando murmured, standing up to take one of the coffees from him.

Oscar didn’t take his eyes off Ada. “You’re a machine,” he told Amelia. “For coming here. Thank you.”

“She slept the whole car ride,” Amelia said. “I packed enough supplies for three days rather than three hours.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow. “You think that’ll be enough?”

“It's fine. My dad’s probably stashed nappies all over this motorhome,” she said dryly. “You can call Zak Brown a lot of things, but you can’t call him unprepared.”

That made both men laugh, the sound low and soft enough not to wake the baby.

Twenty-seven minutes.

That’s how long Amelia stayed.

Long enough for her to sit in on the strategy meeting, long enough to pass off her annotated packet of data to Tom with a few muttered clarifications. Long enough for her to reassure herself that her world hadn’t spun too far off its axis.

She knew it had been twenty-seven minutes because she set a timer on her phone. Not a second longer.

And when they left — quietly, quickly, Lando carrying her bag, Oscar offering to hold the door open — she didn’t look back.

She had a baby girl to focus on.

And Lando would follow her home when he was done.

—

The front door clicked softly shut.

Ada stirred in her basket. Amelia looked up from her book — well, from the same paragraph she’d read six times — just as Lando stepped into the living room, damp curls flattened beneath his McLaren cap and a tired smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Behind him, Oscar hovered with two takeaway bags and a sheepish shrug. “He called me stupid for planning on going to the team hotel,” he said. “I didn’t fight that hard.”

Lando dropped a kiss to her temple as he passed. “She’s been awake?”

“Two feeds,” Amelia said, adjusting the blanket draped over her lap. “Four nappy changes. She’s settled now.”

Oscar was already crouching beside the basket, peering in at Ada like he hadn’t seen her just a few hours ago. “She’s still so small.”

“She’s seven days old,” Amelia pointed out. “She’s supposed to be small.”

“I know. But like… look at her.” He grinned, voice hushed. “She’s smaller than my forearm.”

Amelia blinked.

Lando had taken the food into the kitchen. She could hear the fridge opening, the rustle of takeaway containers. Oscar was now sitting cross-legged on the floor beside Ada, humming softly under his breath.

The room felt full. But not crowded.

She marked her place in the book — something about fluid dynamics and downforce — and looked around.

Lando came back in with three bowls of food and no cutlery, because he always forgot the cutlery. He kicked off his shoes, dropped onto the sofa beside her, and pulled her close with a casualness that would’ve stunned her thirteen-year-old self.

Amelia rested her cheek against his shoulder.

She thought about being thirteen. About hiding in the corner of the school library, rereading the same paperbacks while her classmates whispered and passed notes about their crushes.

She’d never understood the obsession. Never wanted the chaos of it.

She’d convinced herself she wasn’t built for any of it — romance, affection, softness. She figured she’d grow up and live alone in a quiet flat with neat shelves and a routine no one could break.

And now she was here. Baby in a basket. Working in the sport she adored. Married. Her best friend sitting on her living room floor, humming to her daughter as she slept.

It made her chest ache, a little. With disbelief. With gratitude.

“Hey,” Lando said softly, glancing down. “You okay, baby?”

She nodded. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

She looked at him, her expression unreadable and full at once. “I didn’t think I’d get this.”

Lando’s brows drew together, but he didn’t interrupt.

“I didn’t think I’d ever want it. I thought I wasn’t… wired that way.” Her voice was even. Gentle. “I have never been so relieved to have been wrong about something.”

He kissed her again, this time on the side of her head. “Love you.”

Oscar, still on the floor, looked up with a half-smile. “Is this a bad time to ask if you’re willing to half your naan bread with me?”

Amelia laughed. Then she tore it in half and gave it to him.

Lando passed her a fork.

She hadn’t even noticed him go get it. But of course he had.

And as Ada shifted softly in her basket, a tiny sigh in the quiet, Amelia thought, ‘This. This is what home is.’

And she hadn’t even known to hope for it.

[el-bibi]

I would love to request a fic about Fernando if you feel like writing It! About the plot... Right now I'm writing about him as a teenager girl dad and I love It. But I would love to see him falling in love with someone, maybe his pr, or social Media manager? A woman his Age, Who he has been friend with for a couple or months or so but he end up falling for her... And her for him too! Maybe they've seen each other a lot fir work, dinners, late night meetings and so It happened!

It's never too late (part one) │Fernando Alonso

pairing: fernando alonso x pr manager!ofc

words count: 859

A/N: thank you @valeelavvale for your request, I hope you'll like this first chapter. Enjoy!

part two │part three

January 2025, Silverstone

Fernando didn't like to have too many people around, which was somewhat ironic for an F1 driver of his level. When his PR manager retired, he didn't bother searching for another one and let the team choose it for him. So here he was, at the first meeting of the year, waiting on his mysterious new manager.

"How long is this going to take?" Fernando huffed, leaning back in his chair as Lawrence Stroll's eyes were locked on the door of the meeting room.

"I'm sorry, Fernando, there must have been some kind of problem." Lawrence tried to reassure him.

"I can't wait all day, are they even going to show up—"

The door opened. A woman was standing there, long, brown hair and dressed as good as a model.

Lawrence stood up, walking over to her and shaking her hand.

"Fernando, this is your new PR manager, Ms Gomez."

Fernando had to pinch himself mentally to stop staring. Never in his oh so eventful life had he ever seen a woman so stunning. 

"You can call me Laura." She flashed him a smile and held out her hand, which Fernando shook promptly.

"Nice to meet you, Laura. I'm looking forward to working with you." For once in his life, he was saying that sincerely.

February 2025, pre-season testing in Bahrain

The sun shone bright and early on the Bahrain track. Fernando had given himself some time to get to know Laura and now, after just a month, they worked pretty well together. As they walked through the paddock, towards the Aston Martin garage, he let his eyes linger on her. She moved so effortlessly along the pit lane, waving at everyone and flashing pearly white smiles. 

"Pa, dad!" A voice from beside him snapped him back to reality. It was Olivia, his 18-year old daughter.

"Yes, sorry, nena. What is it?" 

Olivia rolled her eyes, she had been talking for ten minutes and all her dad could think about was his new PR manager. Over the past weeks he had only talked about her, how precise she was, how he always brought her coffee. 

"It wasn't important, don't worry." She shook her head.

Olivia loved her dad, she really did. For many years he had been everything she had. Her mum had left when she was little and she had grown up with her grandparents when Fernando had to travel. For some reason, she was always reluctant to meet any woman that walked into her dad's life.

Laura, however, was different. She wasn't her dad's girlfriend, Olivia knew that would have been messy, but she had always been kind, almost treating her as a daughter.

"Nando, you've got an interview in a few minutes." Laura said, opening slightly the door to his driver's room, only to find out he was in a phone call. "Sorry," she mouthed sheepishly.

Fernando waved at her, silently telling her not to worry. Laura closed the door and found Olivia standing behind her. 

"Oh, hi," the woman smiled softly.

"Is he on the phone?" 

"Yeah, I think it's something important." She said in a hushed tone.

"It must be my mother, she usually calls just to remind him how stupid it is to bring me here." Olivia rolled her eyes, heading to the hospitality with Laura.

"She doesn't like it?" Laura frowned.

"Worse, she doesn't like me. She divorced dad when I was little and never really came back." She shrugged.

"I'm sorry about that, Olivia." Laura said softly. Now that she looked at her, she looked a lot like her father.

"Please, just call me Liv, I don't like it when people use my full name. It makes them sound angry at me." Olivia scoffed, sitting down at an empty table.

If there was one thing that Laura had learned about this girl, it was that she had a very sharp humour, always trying to shield herself with some sarcasm.

"Do you have any kids?" Olivia asked as they waited in the parking lot of the track. Fernando was finishing up some briefings and had asked them to wait near his car.

"I don't, I've only focused on my job so far." Laura answered. "And also, I don't think I'd be that great with kids anyway."

"Well, you're better than my mother." Olivia shrugged, then realised she shouldn't have said that. She was just her dad's friend after all. "Sorry, that was… unnecessary."

"No, it's fine. I'm glad I can make you feel at ease with me." She smiled softly, then she spotted Fernando making his way towards them. 

"Finally, I thought you had gotten lost." Olivia teased him, making him ruffle her hair.

"I was having a chat with that new kid, Kimi, he's really impressive." 

Olivia was sitting in the backseat and Fernando saw her getting flustered at the mere mention of the boy's name.

"Liv, everything okay?" He smiled softly, looking at her through the rearview mirror.

"Yeah, it's nothing, pa."

Laura shot a glance at Fernando, a knowing smirk on her face. Oh, how much would she pay to experience teenage love again…

[gguk-n]

Wheels of Desire (Fernando Alonso x Lance Stroll's friend!Reader)

Summary- Finding an older man attractive is the oldest rule in the book, what if said older man is a little hesitant?

{Reader's POV}

Lance and I had recently made acquaintance through our fathers a few months ago. Since we were closer in age, we started to get along quite well. That's how I found myself at the Canadian Grand Prix. Did I know anything about cars? Nope. Did I know anything about Formula One? Nada. But was I supportive friend? Debatable. My dad wanted me at the race, I have an inkling they are trying to set me and Lance up but I believe that ship sailed a long time ago since he already has a girlfriend. That's Lance's burden to bear not mine, I'm here to keep up appearances.

I had the Aston Martin paddock pass slightly sway along as I strode to the hospitality. I did not know anyone here and that asshole didn't even come to greet me at the entrance. As I walked in, I spotted Lance. I smacked the back of his head, "You knew I came here for you, yet you wouldn't even come and greet me" I whined. "I thought you were a big girl" he laughed giving me a hug. "Whatever" I mumbled when my eyes met the man in front of me, who was also dressed in the same shirt as Lance. "Fernando, this is Y/N Y/L/N. Y/N, this is Fernando Alonso, my teammate" Lance introduced us. I smiled at him and shook his hand.

I pulled Lance to the side before whispering, "I didn't know your team was this hot" "He's old enough to be your dad." he pointed out. "He isn't my dad and my dad's way older than him" I explained. "Y/N come on" he whined. "Listen, you don't have to do anything, I'm pretty enough to handle it on my own, my only qualm is you hid that beautiful Spanish man from me" I said flipping him off. "How do you know he's Spanish?" he quizzed. "Accent and name, pay attention Strulovich" I sighed. "Now, if you'll excuse me I have a hot man to woo" I whispered and sauntered over to Fernando.

It was tragic honestly, even I could tell the way I was practically throwing myself at Fernando at this point and this man wouldn't even bat an eye. My spirit was starting to run low. But I wasn't giving up just yet, the weekend had just started and I had 2 more days.

Lance took me out to dinner to cheer me up. "In your defence, Fernando probably likes older women not infants" Lance chided. "I hate you" I seethed. "You're just hangry, here have a bite" he said placing a forkful of pasta in my mouth. "You do know how to cheer me up, Lancey" I hummed chewing on the food.

The dinner from last night made it on the tabloid, here, I am trying to woo Fernando and the tabloids are running a story of me and Lance. I think I might have to have a strongly worded letter with the said media houses.

Fernando seemed even more off than the last day; my jokes weren't landing, I couldn't even make him smile at this point. I found myself subconsciously chewing on my lower lip. "You're bleeding" Fernando said holding up a tissue to my lips. His fingers brushed past my lips and now sat on my chin as he added pressure to the wound. "What's got you so anxious?" Fernando asked. "Nothing" I shook my head. "Don't move, yet" Fernando reprimanded holding my head from the back in place with his other hand. I stood still, my brain running a 100 miles an hour, my eyes scanning his face which had creased in focus and his eyes laced with worry. He slowly moved his hand away to see the blood had stopped, I wish it hadn't. All I could think about was how maybe Fernando held your head as he kissed you aggressively.

Fernando left to talk to his engineers. I stood there staring at him until Lance came and closed my mouth. "You're drooling" he chided. "I mean how can I not? Look at him?" I chuckled. Lance just shook his head and walked away.

I spent the whole night formulating but I never came up with anything to at least peak Fernando's interest in me. None of my flirting was working.

I walked into the hospitality with my head down, it was Fernando who greeted me. "You don't look so good" he remarked. "Yeah, I didn't sleep much" I replied. "What's on your mind?" he asked. "Nothing, it's stupid" I brushed him off. "If it was that stupid why'd you stay up thinking about it?" Fernando quizzed. I felt so stupid and annoyed. Before I could open my mouth, Lance had come with a cup of coffee my saving grace. I moaned as I took a large sip from the cup. "You are the best" I said, warming my hands up against the cup. The weather had gotten colder due to the rain and the clothes I had worn were covered in a thin sheet of cold mist.

I watched them move about the hospitality get ready for the race, my eyes lingering on Fernando longer. I had only found out about him 3 days ago and right now, he was taking up an unprecedented amount of space in my head.

I tried to flirt with him as the day progressed but it seemed futile. He would brush me off or just laugh it off. I was starting to lose all hope. I lost all my hope at the end of the day when the team was packing up after the race. "You staying or leaving?" Lance asked. "I have a dinner date with your parents tomorrow and then I'll leave" I said. "Have fun" he remarked. "Aren't you coming too?" I asked. "Nope, I have plans" he said winking at me. I saw Fernando looking at me with sad eyes; I felt weird.

I was out at a bar finishing up my mocktail when I felt some one sit next to me. I turned around to find Fernando. "Hi" I greeted him with a smile. "I thought you were having dinner with Lance's family" Fernando pointed out. "Ah, that's tomorrow. I'm....free today" I said. Fernando seemed like he sighed a sigh of relief but I could be hallucinating. "I'll your finest wine and for the lady" he began now looking at me, "No, I'm good. I'll be leaving now" I said gathering my stuff. "huh....stay" he whispered in the moment the song changed.

I was shocked but I sat back down. "Why?" I asked. "You look like you don't want to be alone" he commented taking a sip of his wine. "I would like company, if I am being honest" I stated. "If you don't mind an old man's company, I'm here" he shrugged his shoulder. "You're not old and I would love your company" I smiled. "Did you drive here?" I asked. "No, taxi" he said. "Great! I'll have your finest champagne" I told the bartender. The two of us sat there enjoying each other's company.

After a while, we decided to exit the bar together; Fernando had called a cab and offered to drop me back. I'm not sure if it was the close proximity in the cab or the alcohol but when our fingers brushed I felt electricity course through me. I turned to see if he felt the same and he must've since he was staring at me. Without a second thought I crashed my lips against his. It took me a moment to realise but when I did, I suddenly pulled away, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that" I mumbled trying to put as much distance between us. "I...I....I thought you liked Lance" he muttered. "What? Eww!! He's like a brother to me. I've been trying to flirt with you since I laid eyes on you" I explained. "Really?" He asked. "Oh My God, did you think I'm that friendly to everyone?" I retorted. "I don't know" he mumbled running a hand through his hair. "Don't you think it's weird since I'm so much older than you?" he asked. I just shrugged, "I don't really look at people's ages" He looked hesitant. "Fernando, I wanna go on a date with you, I wanna date you, I wanna be your girlfriend, maybe" I spoke loud and clear. His mouth opened and closed a few time, "It's okay, take your time. Can I have your number though?" I asked hopeful. He took my phone entered his number and as the taxi driver pulled up to my hotel, Fernando pulled me in for a kiss. "I'm not completely sure but I think I want to go out on a date with you too" he muttered with a smile. "I'll be in Spain next month, see you then" I whispered kissing his cheek and exiting the taxi.

[bad268]

Daisies (Ollie Bearman X Verstappen! Reader)

Fandom: RPF/F2/F3

Requested: Day 7 of Writing Inktober prompts instead of drawing!

Warnings: Jos Verstappen mentioned, based on Daisies by Katy Perry

POV: Second Person (You/your)

W.C. 496

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

Writing Inktober 2024 Materlist

~~(^Pinterest)

It finally happened. I showed them. I could do this, and the fact that I am now one of the 20 best drivers in the world showed everyone that dreams do come true. The only person who ever believed me was Ollie.  

I was raised by my dad, who always knocked me down, saying I was out there, and I was going nowhere. According to him, I was crazy for thinking I could be in Formula 1. 

Well, walking onto the track with Ollie in Australia showed as much. Ollie in his Haas kit and me in my Aston Martin kit. Red Bull fans knew of me and how I was Max’s sibling, but what confused them was that I wasn’t in Red Bull. Why would I? Then, I would be subjected to Jos in every waking moment.

Plus, I wanted to learn from the best, and Fernando Alonso is my hero. It just worked out that Aston Martin wanted to sign me too. I had been in their junior program for years, and it only felt right to take Lance’s place after he decided to seek other opportunities.

Ollie and I walked down the pit lane hand in hand, and we knew we would have to cross the Red Bull garage. It was inevitable since Haas was in the middle of the pit lane, and Aston Martin was on the far side.

“If he says anything, we can ignore him,” Ollie comforted as he moved his arm to rest over my shoulders and pulled me closer to him, placing a kiss on my forehead. 

“If he says anything, I’ll punch him,” I said simply with a chuckle, but Ollie knew I was not kidding. He knew all of the things Jos said to me, and he would back me up if it ever came down to it. 

“Nice to see you,” Max said as he approached us. My hand tightened around Ollie’s for a second, waiting for Jos to jump out from behind Max. Thankfully, Max noticed immediately. “He’s not here. I told him not to be here for this race. You’re an incoming rookie, and the last thing you need is him finding a way to ridicule you.”

“Wait, so he’s not here? Like at all?” I asked, loosening my hold on Ollie. Max nodded, so I ran into his arms for a hug before whispering, “Thank you.”

“Anything to help make this a little easier for you,” Max comforted we hugged, “Now, go show them what Verstappen’s do.”

I just chuckled in response before going back to Ollie and continued walking down the pitlane. When we got to Haas, Ollie turned and pulled me in with him. “What are you doing? I can’t go in here.”

“Then, close your eyes,” Ollie laughed as he continued dragging me through the garage. He grabbed something, but I couldn’t see it until he told me to open them. He was holding out a bouquet of daisies.

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[the-offside-rule]

Fernando Alonso (Aston Martin) - I Don't Wanna Live Forever

Requested: no

Swift Series

Warnings: age gap, cursing, forbidden love, cliffhanger

*he's fine asf in this gif*

Fernando sighed contently as he walked through the paddock, the all too familiar buzz of a new season on the horizon. The new season was about to begin, and with it came new challenges, new cars, and, as he had just been informed, a new assistant. His previous assistant had moved on, and Fernando was curious about the person who would now be helping him navigate the whirlwind of his career. He walked into the new hospitality, looking around at the slick interior design of the building. He looked over to see his PR manager stood up, waving towards him. He smiled, walking over towards him. "Alright Fernando, how's it going?" She asked as he hugged her. "Yeah, pretty good. Yourself?" She smiled. "I'm doing well. I actually wanted to introduce you to someone-" She paused, turning to the young woman stood behind her. "Fernando, meet Y/n. She'll be your new assistant."

Y/n extended a hand with a confident smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Alonso. I'm excited to work with you." Fernando shook her hand, noting her firm grip and steady gaze. "Please, call me Fernando. And welcome to the team." Y/n nodded, mentally noting the informal tone. "Thank you, Fernando. I've already familiarized myself with your schedule and preferences. If there's anything specific you need or any adjustments, just let me know." Fernando was impressed. "I appreciate that. It's a demanding job, but I'm sure you'll handle it well."

As the days went by, Y/n quickly adapted to the fast-paced environment of Formula 1. She managed Fernando's schedule with precision, coordinated media engagements seamlessly, and ensured he had everything he needed before and after races. Her efficiency and calm demeanor under pressure did not go unnoticed by Fernando. One afternoon, during a break between practice sessions, Fernando found Y/n in the team lounge, engrossed in her laptop. "How are you finding everything so far?" He asked, sitting down across from her. Y/n looked up, a hint of surprise in her eyes. "It's intense, but I love it. The energy, the speed, the team, it's all very exciting." Fernando smiled. "That's good to hear. It's important to have someone who enjoys the chaos as much as the rest of us."

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While Fernando was no stranger to the hectic life of a racing driver, he found a peculiar comfort in the presence of his assistant, Y/n. She was efficient, calm under pressure, and always seemed to know exactly what he needed. Over time, Fernando had developed feelings for Y/n, but he kept them hidden, fearing it would complicate their professional relationship. Y/n, on the other hand, had admired Fernando since the day they started working together. His dedication, passion, and charisma made it hard not to fall for him. But, like Fernando, Y/n kept these feelings concealed, believing it was best to maintain their professional demeanor.

This particular day had been nothing short of exhausting with back-to-back media obligations. Interviews, photoshoots, and press conferences filled the schedule, leaving little time to breathe. Fernando signed the final cap and packed it off to the side. He looked out the window, the sun had set, and the team was packing up. "Finally." He sighed. "Y/n!" Fernando called out. Y/n peered in the door. "Done?" He nodded. "Perfect. You can leave them there, and I'll get them to marketing first thing tomorrow." She said walking towards him. His eyes wandered down her body. He stopped himself, feeling bad. "Stay back for a bit, would you? I think we both could use a drink."

"I can't. You have media day tomorrow, and I think a good nights sleep would do you best." Fernando sat back in the chair. "Come on. Just one." Surprised but curious, Y/n agreed. "Sure, Fernando. A drink sounds good." He smirked. "That didn't take too much convincing."

Fernando stood up and headed downstairs, grabbing a bottle of red wine and twk glasses before making his way back up to the office. "I hope you like wine." He chuckled. She sighed. "Not really, but it's a drink from the Fernando Alonso, so who can complain?" He closed the blinds, trying to block out the world, away from the prying eyes of fans and journalists. Fernando poured the glass and handed it to her, before taking his own. They sipped at their drinks, and for a while, they sat in comfortable silence, savouring the moment of peace. "Do you mind if I ask you something?" Y/n nodded. "Shoot."

"How did you end up in the world of Formula 1?" Fernando asked, genuinely interested. Y/n smiled, taking a sip of the drink. "It was a bit of a twist of fate, really. I always loved motorsports, and when the opportunity came up to work with a team, I took it. And here I am. I didn't think I'd be working for you, though." His brows furrowed. "How come?" She shrugged. "I always loved watching you growing up, so it just seems a bit surreal, I guess." He groaned. "What?" She chuckled. "You're making me sound old." He replied. "You're not that old."

"I am 43 years old. That's old." She eyed up his lips subtly, her finger tracing the rim of her glass. "I don't think so, but okay." Fernando nodded, his eyes never leaving Y/n's. "You're 25. You have no say in this."

As the night went on, the conversation flowed easily. They talked about their childhoods, their passions, and their dreams. The more they shared, the more they realized how much they had in common. "Sometimes, I wonder what life would be like if I hadn't decided to race." Fernando admitted, a rare moment of vulnerability. Y/n reached out, placing a hand on his. "I think you'd still be the same incredible person, just a little less stressed." Fernando's heart raced at the touch. "Yes, but I wouldn't have met all the people I have. We wouldn't have met." Y/n's breath caught. "You'd live without me." Fernando took a deep breath, his eyes locking with Y/n's. "I don't think I could." Y/n's heart swelled. "Fernando -" Fernando leaned in, his lips hovering dangerously close to hers. Their eyes scanned each other, both wondering if they should move closer or simply walk away and pretend it hadn't happened.

Y/n's eyes fluttered shut as Fernando's lips met theirs in a tender kiss. The world around them faded, leaving just the two of them in that moment. She set her glass to the side, her hand flying up to his face, pulling him in closer. He felt euphoric. She was everything he could have asked for and more. He deepened the kiss, pushing her back until she was laying on the couch. Her hands roamed under his Aston Martin shirt, trailing up his tone back. He loved it,every touch, every sound she made below him, he loved it all. That was, until Y/n came to her senses and pulled away. "Wait, stop!"

Fernando's heart sank as she pulled away. "We can't. I can't. It could ruin your career, and it could cost me my job. I've worked too hard for this job for it to be thrown away over a stupid kiss." His brows furrowed. "A stupid kiss?? Is that what you would call this?" She stood up, straightening her skirt out. "I say it as it is. It was a mistake, and it will remain that way. It has to." Fernando shook his head, his eyes pleading. "Y/n, listen. I like you, I like you a lot. I don't care about the risks. I care about you." Y/n looked at him, unsure. Unsure if he was telling the truth or if he was drunk. "I care about you too, but we have to be realistic. This-" She pointed between them both. "This could destroy everything we've worked for." Fernando took her hands in his, his grip firm but gentle. "I'm willing to do anything for you, Y/n. You're worth everything to me." She sighed, closing the door behind her and leaving the spaniard there, drunk, alone and pondering.

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Y/n lay in bed, the soft glow of the city lights seeping through the curtains and casting delicate patterns on the walls. Despite the late hour, sleep eluded her. Her mind was consumed with thoughts of the kiss she shared with Fernando earlier that evening. She could still feel the warmth of his lips, the gentle yet passionate way he had held her. She sighed and turned onto her side, pulling the blankets tighter around her. But no matter how she tried, she couldn’t shake the image of his face, the intensity in his eyes as they parted. Tossing and turning, she fought against the whirlwind of emotions swirling within her.

Finally, unable to bear the restlessness any longer, Y/n sat up, her heart racing with indecision. Should she go to him? Confront these feelings head-on? She hesitated, her fingers gripping the edge of the blanket. But the pull was too strong, the need for clarity too overwhelming. Taking a deep breath, she threw the covers aside and slipped out of bed. She threw on her cardiganHer footsteps were light, almost silent, as she reached her door. Her heart pounded with every step, the anticipation building.

Reaching for her door, she paused, her hand hovering just inches from the wood. She closed her eyes, gathering her courage, then reached for the handle and opened it, her eyes widened in surprise. There stood Fernando. He was dressed as he was earlier, as if he had been up and about, unable to sleep just like her. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the air thick with unspoken words and emotions. “Y/n…” he breathed, taking a step closer. “I-"

It didnt take long for her to wrap her arms around his necl and lock her lips with his again. She had needed this. He pulled away first, looking deep into her eyes. "I need to tell you-"

"Tell me in the morning. I need you now."

[uniquexusposts]

La Casa de la Princesa

Summary: Y/N and Fernando will be moving to a new home. Y/N's daughter isn't fully aware of the situation yet. Genre: fluff Word count: 1259

Y/N walked down the stairs and walked through her new house. A satisfied smile came to her face as she entered the living room; Fernando was working with friends in the garden on a pink playhouse. She couldn't be more grateful for Fernando. Y/N walked to the garden with a few bottles of cold water and leaned against the wall, observing the builders.

At a sudden moment, Fernando turned around to look for the instructions. But instead, he got distracted by the love of his life, who looked at him from a distance. A wide smile grew on his face, and he winked at her. He straightened his back when she walked towards him.

"Looking good, boys," Y/N smiled. She padded Fernando between his shoulder blades. She handed over the bottles of water.

"Thanks, we're doing our best," one of Fernando's friends said proudly.

"Glad we haven't fucked it up yet," the other said, smirking. "Quite an experience."

Fernando smirked and kissed Y/N. "Anything for my little princess." He looked behind Y\N while wrapping his arm around her. "Where is Luci, by the way?"

"She's still at school. I have to pick her up in thirty minutes."

"Hmm-hmm, I thought it was later already," he admitted. Their eyes locked. "Can I pick her up?"

"Of course, you can. Lucia likes it more when you pick her up," Y/N smirked.

"I'm way cooler than you are," he playfully replied. "Does she know that we have moved?"

She nodded. "She doesn't really fully understand it yet, but she adores the idea of living together with you."

After being in a relationship for three years, Y/N and Fernando finally decided to buy a house together to live there with Y/N's daughter of four years. Luckily, Lucia and Fernando had a special bond. Even though Lucia had a father, she saw Fernando as a father figure too; he was mummy's best friend - Lucia hadn't fully understood the situation yet - and mummy's best friend was also Lucia's best friend.

"See, I'm cool," Fernando winked. It made Y/N laugh and push him away a little. He wrapped his other arm around her as well, pulling her into a loving hug. "How's her bedroom?"

"All set, everything is finished now."

"La Casa de la Princesa is almost finished," he satisfied said. "And then this place is finally ours."

"Uhu, finally." She couldn't stop smiling.

Fernando excused himself from the group to change his sweaty, work outfit for a fresh and casual outfit. He said bye to the others, put on his sunglasses and left the house. Fernando and Y/N found a house that was close enough to the big city, close to Lucia's school and close to both their families: it was a dream house. While he walked to the school, he took some time to explore the new neighbourhood. He never imagined being a family, but he was glad he found his people and formed a family.

Arrived at the international school, Fernando was standing between mothers and nannies. Even though he loved picking up Lucia from school, he still found being that guy between the mothers awkward. He shared a forced smile with one of the mothers.

The school doors opened, and the first tiny humans ran outside. Little Lucia scanned the people in the schoolyard, looking for her mother. But once she saw who awaited her, her face lit up, and she ran towards Fernando. She lifted her arms, ready to be lifted, which Fernando did. "Nano!"

"Hello, Luci," Fernando smiled and hugged the four-year-old.

"I'm so happy to see you," Lucia giggled.

"I'm happy to see you too," he smiled and kissed her cheek. "Shall we go home? To mamá?" The little girl nodded. "Let's go then." He put Lucia back on the ground, and she grabbed his hand. In the other hand, he was holding her small backpack. They started to walk to their new house. "Did you have fun at school?"

"Yes."

"That is good. What did you do today?"

"I had a tea party!"

"A tea party?"

"Yes! With Denise, Hannah and Tessa."

"That sounds fun. And what did you drink?" Fernando looked at the girl.

She looked up at him, her eyes sparkled. "Water!"

A laugh rolled over Fernando's lips, he adored this kid so much. "And did you like it?"

Lucia nodded happily. "I want a tea party with you and mamá, like princesses."

"We will have a tea party like princesses soon, yeh? But first, we are going home."

"Your house?"

"Our house," he smiled.

The two chit-chatted during the entire walk to their new home. Lucia couldn't stop talking about princesses. Once she saw a cat walking by, she had to pet it and ask Fernando about it like he knew the cat. They made a quick pit stop at a playground so Lucia could sit on the swing for a few minutes. It was the small things that made their bond so special.

They entered their new street, and Y\N was already waiting outside. Lucia let go of Fernando's hand and ran towards her mother. Y/N squatted down to embrace her daughter, lifting her off the ground. "Hey, sweetie. How was school today?"

Lucia, still bubbling with excitement, began to talk about her day, animatedly describing the tea party. Y/N listened attentively, stealing glances at Fernando, who stood now next to them, observing the heart warming scene. Fernando couldn't help, but smile at the sight of his two favourite girls. As Lucia continued her enthusiastic story, also about the playground she and Fernando found, Y/N's face softened. She made it. Her family made it. She could feel Fernando's hand on her back, feeling his support and love.

With Lucia chattering away, the three people walked towards their new home. The playhouse in the garden was ready, so that was the first thing Y/N and Fernando wanted to show. They walked around the house to the back garden. And when Lucia saw the pink playhouse, she stopped talking and signed that she wanted to stand on the ground again. A loud cry filled the garden as Lucia ran towards the house. Lucia and Fernando smiled widely.

"Mamá, look!" She jumped around and looked at the four adults standing just a few metres away. She was standing still now. "Can I play in there?"

"Of course, love. It is your new castle."

While Lucia began to explore the playhouse, Y/N thanked Fernando and his friends for building it. "She's over the moon," she added.

"With her reaction as return, I would do it over and over again," one of the friends said.

"We do it for the smile, Y/N. No need to thank us," the other one said.

Fernando wrapped an arm around Y/N, expressing his silent agreement. As the friends said goodbye and left, the trio of Y/N, Fernando and Lucia found themselves still standing in the garden. They took some time to absorb the reality of their new life "This is it, mi amor. Our home," he whispered in Y/N's ear and kissed her cheek.

"Thank you," she replied. She turned to him. "For everything." She rested her arms around his neck.

"Thank you for making me part of your journey."

"I love you." Y/N kissed him.

"I love you."

The excited voice of Lucia filled the air again. She was running towards her mother and bonus father. Fernando lifted her. Lucia put her arm around Fernando's neck and her mother's neck, hugging them.

"Little Luci, shall we explore our new home, and your new room?" Y/N asked.

Lucia happily nodded.

"And then we need a royal feast!" Fernando proposed.

"Yes!" Lucia shouted in excitement. 

Taglist: @itsjustkhaos@crashingwavesofeuphoria@maryvibess

[pdriesta]

CHAPTER ONE

“how can i move on when i’m still in love with you”

genres — angst, angst, and more angst. suggestive.

word count — 2k

summary — two years ago, pedri shattered his childhood best friend's heart by ending their relationship. he was her first kiss, first boyfriend, and first love. now, as she prepares to start fresh while pursuing her master's degree, pedri reappears with a single mission: to mend the heart he once broke. can she trust him again, or will their past define their future?

an — repost! i accidentally deleted my blog so before i release anything new, i’m gonna repost my series’s. if this is your first time reading, let me know if you’re interested in a taglist!

masterlist

as soon as pedri made it back into the locker room after the win over espanyol, he showered quickly, his thoughts already racing ahead. the celebrations disrupted his usual routine, but that didn’t stop him from meeting his family in the corridor outside the visitors' room.

“pedrito!” his mother’s voice was a balm to his buzzing nerves. he found his little family draped in his jerseys and entered his mom’s loving embrace. his father and brother, fernando, joined in shortly after. the adrenaline was still rushing through his veins, and he could not shake the happiness of achieving one of his dreams.

“congratulations, my boy,” his father said, kissing the top of his head. fer squeezed the back of his neck lovingly, the familiar touch grounding him.

the embrace was interrupted by his mother’s ringtone blaring from her phone.

“one second.” she pulled away and kissed his cheek before pulling her phone out. her lips broke into a smile seeing who was calling. “it’s lucia. she texted me earlier asking you to call her so she can congratulate you and make you some goxua when you come home.” his mom rattled off about her best friend before walking away to answer her phone.

pedri was unfazed at the mention of his mother’s best friend but couldn’t help his mind wandering to her daughter once again.

fer is pedri’s best friend; of course, he knew his brother wasn’t over her. however, he gave up on meddling because both of you failed to bite the bucket and tell each other that even after all this time, you’re still deeply in love with each other.

“i need to do some marketing and campaigns for next season, so maybe in a week? you could stay until then if you want,” pedri tried to offer nonchalantly, but he didn’t want to admit how lonely his apartment feels without his family and you.

“fer, you can’t. remember you promised tía that you would help y/n move,” their father spoke up before grabbing his wife’s hand as she re-approached them.

pedri’s eyes widened at his father’s words. “move? where? since when?”

fer looked at his dad with eyes mirroring pedri’s. no one was supposed to know, especially not pedri.

“cariño,” their mom squeezed her husband’s arm before clearing her throat, “yes, but she told us not to tell you. she’s moving to start her master’s degree on the mainland.”

wow, was all pedri thought. he always knew you wanted to further your learning with a master’s degree, but he couldn’t believe time had flown by so quickly. it seemed like just yesterday he held you while you cried, waiting for university acceptances. it broke him when his family attended your graduation and forwarded photos with you. that smile, one that was permanently ingrained in his memory, even though the last time he saw you, that same smile was absent from your face.

“that’s amazing. i always knew she could do it,” his head dropped with a smile.

“she’s actually—” his mom started before thinking over her decision to mention this information. seeing the love that’s ever so present in his eyes, she knew what she had to do. “she’s going to school here in barcelona. she got accepted to the computer engineering program at uab.”

his family could practically see a light bulb brighten over his head. he remembered his words from two years ago and the reason he made the decision to break up with you: the distance. even after all that, he felt the thousands of miles slowly vanish at the idea of you being in the same city as him.

maybe, just maybe, he can allow himself to indulge in the idea of being close to you again. that idea he has had almost every day and night since breaking your heart.

his heart is racing like it’s a game day and the ref is about to blow the whistle.

he finds himself thinking of your time together. you were always so gentle with him, caring for him when he was exhausted from games and training. he was so willing to ruin that, thinking it was the best for both of you.

“everybody keep it down,” pedri said over the voices of his teammates, his closest friends since he moved to barcelona.

“can you hurry? today’s training killed me,” alejandro groaned while slumping onto the already crowded couch.

“hermano, what could be so urgent that you sent an SOS to the group chat?” it was gavi’s turn to speak up.

pedri groaned. if they would stop their questions, maybe he could get there. he looked to his brother for help. fer chuckled before standing on the other side of his brother’s tv.

“okay everybody listen up before my brother bursts a blood vessel,” fer said. pedri rolled his eyes at his brother’s words. he knew what the impromptu meeting was for and was truly just there for moral support.

“i brought you guys here for some advice. you might remember my girl—” he stopped himself. “my ex-girlfriend from two years ago,” he started.

“the one you horribly messed up with?” ansu spoke up.

“the one you have moped over for the past two years,” fermin chimed in.

“the one we thought you’d never get over?” ferran added with a teasing smile.

“thank you for that,” pedri said sarcastically. “yes, my y/n. she has moved to barcelona from tenerife for her master’s degree, and seeing as we broke up because of distance, i think now would be the best time to reach out to her and maybe see if there is hope for us,” he finished and looked down at his friends’ smiles from the couch.

“which leads me to,” he continued and turned his attention to his tv, where he connected his phone.

operation: get y/n back

laughter erupted throughout the room, but not out of judgment; they all knew pedri would be the type of person to create a thorough presentation on how to get the love of his life back.

“you actually made a presentation?” gavi asked, still chuckling.

“of course he did,” fer said, shaking his head with a smile. “pedri, always the planner.”

pedri ignored his friends and puffed his chest while continuing the plan he had turned over in his head for days since he found out his girl was in the same city as him.

“listen, i need all of your help. i’ve mapped out the best places to take her, the right things to say, and even backup plans in case things go wrong.”

“wow, you really went all out,” alejandro said, impressed.

“this is serious, guys. she’s the one. i know it,” pedri said, determination clear in his voice.

“we’re with you, hermano,” ferran said, clapping him on the shoulder. “let’s get her back.”

“first things first,” pedri said, clicking to the next slide on his presentation. “we need to start with a casual meetup. something that doesn’t scream ‘i’m still in love with you’ but more ‘i’m happy you’re here.’”

“a coffee shop,” ansu suggested. “neutral ground, easy conversation.”

“and then what?” fermin asked.

“then, i remind her of the good times we had, but without making it seem like i’m living in the past,” pedri replied. “and i show her that i’m serious about making things work this time.”

“and if she’s moved on?” gavi asked.

pedri paused for a moment, then shook his head. “i don’t think she has. i saw the way she looked at me the last time we spoke. there’s still something there. i just need to show her that i’ve grown and that we can make it work.”

“you’ve got our support, pedri,” ferran said. “let’s make this happen.”

“thanks, guys,” pedri said, feeling a surge of confidence. “i will get her back, even if it’s the last thing i do.”

“did you leave anything? any books? some vitamins? any medicines?” your mom bombarded you with questions, the same ones she has asked every day in the past week you’ve been in your dorm at UAB.

“mami, i am okay. stop worrying. i just got out of a lecture. i was planning to get something to eat.” you could not be bothered to make yourself anything to eat. your dorm has a shared kitchen in the lobby, but you hated going down there midday while everyone was there.

UAB was nothing like your old campus. it doubled in size to compensate for the doubled population as well. you’re not sure you would ever get used to your new environment.

this wasn’t your first time in barcelona, but being here for a week was nothing like your visit from years ago when you came to his games.

nope. don’t think of him. you vowed to yourself the day after the league title you were done mourning your first relationship. you got accepted to your dream school and program. you had your family, and you would get friends. barcelona would have new memories attached to it, and the boy that broke your heart would not be a part of it.

“okay, make sure you eat a good meal, mi amor. don’t stay up again studying, please. your father and i love you,” your mom kissed through the phone as you said your goodbyes.

you loved your mom, but you inherited her tendency to worry. no matter how much you prepared for your test, you still found yourself studying for hours into the night.

you dropped your bag at the front of your room and looked into the mirror. after one week of schooling, you felt drained. you knew how vigorous your program would be but never imagined not having even a moment to breathe. you closed your eyes and took a moment to yourself before hearing a knock at your door.

you furrowed your eyes. you didn’t know anyone in barcelona yet and did not order food, so who could be knocking at your door? you decided to ignore the knocks and continued to take off your flannel, leaving you in your tank top.

that was until the knocking continued. you huffed, it must be a neighbor. there was no one else who would be knocking.

you grew annoyed at the knocking and quickly grabbed the knob without looking at the peephole.

your mistake.

you never imagined the person in front of you. the familiar brown eyes that looked at you. the boy who broke your heart, the one you haven’t seen since the day he shattered your heart on your doorstep.

next

© PDRIESTA 2024

[chanelnumbermine]

can you do headcanons of pepe marti having a long term crush on a driver!reader (like since childhood/karting days)? They're both managed by Fernando Alonso, and he's basically meddling trying to set the two of them up, while stil overprotective of reader.

to teach a young dog some old tricks | pepe marti x fem!reader

a confession: im quite new to to the pepe lore and fanbase so i tried really really hard to make this as accurate and interesting as possible. that being said, omg i have so many thoughts about this!!! it’s such a fun and playful idea i got to reaserch and writing as soon as i could! have a wonderful day baby and i sincerely hope you enjoy this one! cheers!! <3

i know i have some requests to write about paul but i can’t do it rn still processing his soft launch someone help

warning(s): teen feels! awkwardness and a lot of cutesy moments

pepe was one of your best friends since you can remember - you started karting around europe around the same time and quickly developed a strong bond

there weren’t a lot of girls at the tracks, and some boys weren’t very nice, but that wasn’t pepe’s style

even on a bad rainy day, he was full of smiles and encouraging words

he thought you were impressive- okay, maybe a little scary at first, with the fiery gleam in your eyes and a wide grin that made his teenage heart clench a little

therefore, he tried his best not to make you upset like those other kids, with their loud voices and nasty remarks

and so your defensive walls quickly crumbled: you became attached to the hip ever since

that was the story thought most of your junior series: it was always you and pepe against the world, both fiercely protective of each other on and off track

it was one of the things that drew in fernando alonso: he couldn’t remember the last time he smiled so much watching the two of you fight your way through the field and celebrate together

true passion and friendship, the very essence of the sport he devoted his life toward

he knew instantly that he wanted to see you grow and help cultivate that fire you displayed on track

“joder, kids these days… just like me and lewis back in the day huh”

that’s how you were taken under his wing and for a while things were going perfectly

that was until christian came into the picture

he had this disarming charm and warmth about him that matched pepe’s playfulness and kindness: soon they were inseparable, despite being in different teams and under different managers, they seemed to hang out all the time

it became worse when all of you moved to f3 and the boys became teammates

pepe’s greetings became briefer and his usual chatter was replaced by awkwardness

“hey! good to see you, uh, good luck in practice, sorry, i gotta go- chris told me the team needs me, see ya!”

it was upsetting, for sure, you were always there for each other in the past: he wasn’t performing well and you weren’t either

it seemed as the universe was telling you that the only way to succeed was together

“por dios, im such an idiot! why did i mess up turn four, rookie mistake-”

he ranted to chris all the time, just like he did to you all those years, but now it was different

“mate, don’t be so hard on yourself, nobody’s mad at you. out of all people, she will understand”

he was so ashamed

pepe didn’t want you to see him this frustrated, this weak… especially since you were so mad after your dnf; he wanted to come, but when he had heard those swears spew out of your perfect lips, the air just got kicked out of his lungs

his mind was completely blank, and all he could do was stare at you from the distance and stumble out a sorry and pull half-hearted smile

you were just so pretty when you were mad, he wanted to comfort you, to make it better, to blow off some steam together, to hug, to kiss that pout way from your lips… hold up, what?

the truth is, pepe had a massive crush on you

he tried to get him to confess, to talk to you at least, but it was all in vain

mansell figured him out quickly and teased him relentlessly about it until he realised just how deeply pepe’s feelings ran

it was one that begun as admiration and friendship and grew slowly into something more as you grew up together, without his even noticing when you became so beautiful he couldn’t think straight when you were nearby

when fernando saw the results, he was surprised to say the least’ what do you mean? his two star drivers, competing for points instead of wins every weekend? it raised some eyebrows around the paddock

he had thought he figured it out quickly, the pressure got to you and you weren’t getting the same amount of support, right? but pepe? he made so many new friends and seemed to be just fine besides his results: so what has changed?

he needed one look at your face after he mentioned pepe’s name to knew what this was about

“you two are going to jerez with me. i don’t want any excuses”

he though that getting you in the same room for a longer period would solve the problem by itself but oh damn how quickly that one backfired

at the track, pepe was making mistake after mistake, avoiding alonso’s gaze and your presence

“you see this? you have this pattern when you mess up the left-hander and instantly go off the racing like at sequence- pepe, mierda, ¿estas escuchando o no?”

under each his determined look there was hint of sheepishness and shame

“in my time when a boy liked a girl he would just ask her our on a date and not make a disaster out of himself”

he said gruffly but his tense expression was soon replaced by understanding and a bit of mischief in his eyes

“but, i can’t possibly do that to her! she’s already under so much pressure and i’s scared i’ll ruin our friendship-“

“believe me, if you keep this up it’ll get ruined soon. you can either man up and do something about or lose her and your career in the process”

fernando’s words were harsh but rang true: he had to do something about

the next few days were a mix of gruesome training and long talks

you were both too exhausted to lie and fernando’s efforts to get two of you alone in one room didn’t go unnoticed: on the fifth day pepe gave up and confessed, stuttering and blushing but confessed either way

he then apologizes by taking you out to a very nice restaurant (one that may or may not have been recommended by the older spaniard)

pepe was very careful with his words, remembering the words of his mentor: "if she doesn't run you over - i will"

[mirrorball-leclerc]

track one: secrets i have held in my heart are harder to hide than i thought

series masterlist

JUST THE TWO (THREE) OF US

alternatively: the first meeting between inés and oscar

2015

she had been the only girl there, which is something she was all too used to but at least of the people around her were her age. it got lonely after a while, but she wanted to be like her big brother carlos. she wanted to one day stand on the top step of a podium, not just in karting, but in formula 1. it may have been an unrealistic dream for a girl in motorsports but it was her dream and inés sainz was not a quitter.

“you’re helmet’s cool,” a blonde boy told her. isabella cursed at the gods when she had to look up at him. she gave him a bright smile, “thanks, it’s designed to look like-”

“like the spanish flag,” the boy pointed out, “i’m guessing you’re spanish?”

inés smiled again, “yeah.”

“i thought- normally-” he seemed to be struggling to find the right words to say, “most girls tend to have pink or purple helmets during karting. or, well, most of the ones i meet do.”

inés huffed, that question annoyed her. just because she was a girl didn’t mean she had to be obsessed with the color pink or purple.

“i wouldn’t be taken seriously if i showed up in a pink helmet. i already don’t because i'm a girl.”

“i didn’t mean you to offend you,” the blonde argued, “it was an honest question. i think the helmet is cool, even the pink ones.”

"make a fool of yourself yet?" a brunette boy questioned as he approached them. inés was left confused, was he talking to her? they had never even met before, there was no way he was talking to her.

the blonde scrunched his face up, glaring at the brunette boy, "i did not make a fool of myself."

the brunette turned to face inés, "did he ask you a stupid question?" the blonde was shaking his head behind the other boy, brunette boy turned around, "you do realize i can see you, right?"

the blonde blushed, "yes?"

"he ask why my helmet wasn't pink or purple," inés told the brunette.

"logan," the brunette said, smacking the blonde, logan, on the shoulder. "i wanted to make conversation," logan argued.

"so ask her about that move she made on you or about her race, not why her helmet isn't pink!"

"i learned it watching my brother," inés smiled. she loved talking about her older brother. carlos had achieved the dream inés was after, racing in formula 1, "well that was a while ago, but that's who i learned it from."

"oh!" logan realized, he turned to the brunette, "oscar, she's- her brother is carlos- the toro rosso driver."

"oh," the brunette, oscar said, "i like max better," oscar's eyes widened in realization, "i didn't mean- he's a good driver."

inés laughed, "it's okay, not everyone is going to like my brother. everyone is allowed to have their own opinion. i like fernando more than i like my brother."

logan laughed, "and somehow i was the one who made a fool myself."

"shut up," oscar muttered.

inés laughed and from that moment on she had found two of the greatest friends she could've ever had. well, oscar would become more than a friend, but they didn't quite know that yet. in that single moment one had quickly become three, suddenly she wasn't alone anymore. suddenly she had two friends who meant the world to her and she would do nothing that would cost her losing them.

perhaps if her parents had disapproved of the friendship things would be different but for some strange reason her parents liked both boys. of course, her mother thought logan was too american for her liking, but the boy had grown up in europe, so inés was confused on that front. oscar they liked because his mentor was mark webber. mark may not have had a championship, but he had been a damn good formula 1 driver, and an even better WEC driver.

THE VERY FIRST NIGHT

alternatively: the first meeting between inés and charles

2018

if you were to ask inés about the very first time she met charles leclerc, she would lie and say she couldn’t recall, but she knew exactly when she met him. it was something charles still made fun of her about, occasionally oscar joined in on it. although, charles usually started to pout when inés mentioned that he had been crying when they first met.

she was 16 at the time, hving been to the monaco grand prix several times prior to this particular instance. which is why she couldn't fathom how on earth she got lost at the paddock. however, the tears that had clouded her eyes when she ran out of the renault garage were gone by now. instead she was faced with a bigger problem now, she was lost.

inés doesn't remember bumping into him, she remembers their conversation, and she remembers that charles also has tears in his eyes that particular day. why would he not? he had just dnf'd his home race, for the first time in his formula one career, inés probably would've cried too.

she had landed on the floor, a slight oomf falling out of her mouth. charles, at the time she didn't know his name, let out a soft gasp, and began rapidly speaking to her in french, "oh mon dieu. je suis vraiment désolé, je ne t'ai pas vu. je suis vraiment désolé. je jure que je ne t'ai pas vu. es-tu blessé? êtes-vous bien?" (translation: oh my god. i'm really sorry, i didn't see you. i am really sorry. i swear i didn't see you. are you hurt? are you fine?)

"i don't speak-" inés began. he cut her off, his accent present when he spoke, "are you okay? are you hurt? i am really sorry, i did not see you."

"i'm fine," she said, grabbing his hand, that he had outstretched to her, so she could stand up, "are you okay? you're crying."

charles brushed her off, "i am fine, a bit disappointed in my race today but fine."

“oh, i’m sorry.”

“it is fine,” he sighed. charles held his hand out again, “i’m charles leclerc.”

“well, charles leclerc, i’m inés sainz,” she greeted.

“carlos’s little sister,” charles realized. inés rolled her eyes, “yes, but i’m much more than that.”

charles laughed, and holy shit, that was all it took for inés to become infatuated with him. it was just a crush then, she would go as far as calling it a celebrity crush. inés was years younger than him, five to be exact, there was no way he’d ever go for her. even if he did, she was 16, people would criticizes the hell out of him for going for her. his career was just starting out in formula and for it to be plagued by something as small as this, inés wouldn't have it.

besides it was just a crush, one that would surely go away in a few weeks, like all of inés' other crushes, like the one she had mysteriously developed on oscar last year. that had gone away, or so she thought.

YOU BELONG WITH ME

alternatively: ines' realization

EARLY 2020

inés had quickly realized two things about herself. one: her crush on oscar piastri had not gone away, infact, it had gotten worse. two: she did not have just a crush on charles leclerc. the crush with charles would never go anywhere considering he had a girlfriend. which in it's own way was devastating enough for her but of course someone like him would be taken. charles leclerc was kind, generous, and not to mention he was good looking. inés didn't care about his looks, that was all superficial, she liked the guy he was underneath.

with oscar she wasn't even sure he liked her back, which is why she was so scared to even mention to anyone that she liked him. what if he didn't like her back? what if he hated her after? what if their friendship was ruined forever over this? inés couldn't lose one of her two best friends. maybe she could talk to logan about it but logan also told oscar absolutely everything.

then, there was the matter of her family, anyone she ended up dating would have to be approved by her father and her brother. the family name and image always meant more to carlos sainz sr. there was no way inés was going to be able to be with them without her family meddling. so instead she sat taking refuge with the one person who never gave her any shit, fernando alonso. they often joked that she was more of his kid than she was her parents kid, that's how often he looked out for her.

her phone dinged, breaking her out of her trance that she had found herself in. even fernando's corny jokes couldn't crack her out of the slump she found herself in. the name that stared back her made her sit up, scaring the cat the was cuddled up near her. it meowed at her in disapproval and she shook her head ignoring it. the cat then decided it had enough of inés and jumped off the couch looking for comfort elsewhere.

"eres terrible en esconder tus sentimientos," fernando told inés. the brunette girl turned to stare at him, "que?" (translations: you're terrible at hiding your feelings. what?)

"ahi nena, sabes de lo que te estoy hablando," fernando told her again. (translation: oh girl, you know what i’m talking about.)

“i actually don’t,” inés argued, “and i happen to be very good at hiding my feelings. i have my parents fooled.”

fernando laughed, “nena, a blind man would be able to realize what you feel in a split second.”

“well, they’re both blind then,” inés muttered.

“espera, que quieres decir con both?” fernando questioned. (translation: wait, what do you mean both?)

“i- podemos olvidar que tuvimos esta conversación?” inés questioned, abruptly standing from the couch, “i have to go- goat simulator awaits nando.” (translation: can we forget we had this conversation?)

“esto no se a terminado inés!” fernando shouted after her, “i figured out who the other person besides oscar is!” (translation: this isn’t over inés!)

liked by oscarpiastri, fernandoalo_oficial, carlossainz55 and others

ines_sainz adventures in quarantine with papa nando and the new children

tagged: fernandoalo_oficial

maxverstappen33 i will be stealing one of those cats as soon as i am able to crash at nando's house.

ines_sainz we don't want you here? maxverstappen33 i don't care??

user01 she's quarantining with fernando? that's father and daughter!

user02 lowkey wondering why she isn't quarantining with carlos. they literally live together.

user03 she doesn't have to spend every living moment with him? she's entitled to live her life away from him. user02 no i meant like, i'm so used to seeing them together all the time. so it's weird that they aren't together.

oscarpiastri you got a cat?

ines_sainz yes? haven't decided a name yet but fernando was adamant on naming at least one after mark! fernandoalo_oficial nena, no mientas! [girl don't lie]

fernandoalo_oficial we're not keeping them all inés

ines_sainz uh, yes we are? fernandoalo_oficial inés, no los podemos tener! [inés, we can't have them] ines_sainz si podemos! [yes, we can]

carlossainz55 por esto decideste quedarte con fernando? [this is why you chose to stay with fernando?]

ines_sainz tu me dijiste que no podía tener un gato! fernando dijo que si! [you told me i couldn't have a cat! fernando said yes!] fernandoalo_oficial no es cierto! tu me dijiste que tenias una sorpresa y llegaste con 3 gatos! [that's not true! you told me you has a surprise and you showed up with 3 cats!] ines_sainz es lo mismo! [it's the same thing!]

user04 55 represent!!

user05 i fucking love this joke they have where fernando is her father. praying for her future boyfriend/husband

user06 nah cause imagine having max verstappen as your ride or die. personally i'd shit myself before breaking her heart. logansargeant this is logan sargeant erasure. ines_sainz yeah, max will bring the fists and logan will bring the guns logansargeant okay- that's not- user07 your honor my comfort duo!

patooward so can i kidnap them?

ines_sainz unfortunately dad (fernando) said no but you can get one named after you! patooward deal! can't wait to meet my tocayo! [namesake]

¡taglist!

@minmira95 @lesliiieeeee @vroomvroommuppett @prongsvault @justtprachisblog @scuderiadevils @cataf1 @chezmardybum @formulaal @lilsiz @norstappenvibes @ironspdy @nikfigueiredo @hinamesgigantica @niniluvsainz @matchaverse @fakeikeastore @theseus-jpg @six-call @81folklore @emppusofi @luvsforme @nichmeddar @loloekie @luvpedro @donttouchthegnote

¡not taggable!

@ashlovestoread1411 @books-thingys-andstuff @nothanqks @yeanoskrrt @ale-522 @aandreea_2005 @Katness1

¡leclerc-s speaks!

please ignore the typos and grammar mistakes, currently too tired to correct them. this is more of a look into inés' dynamic with fernando and how she first met charles and oscar. but also when she realized she had feeling for both boys. the sainz siblings have never been as close as they seem.

¡disclaimer!

this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

[eirianerisdar]

I've just been digging around motorsports dot com's take on Carlos and Charles "disagreeing" on whether they've cleared up the Sprint incident or not, and I might be dipping my toes into speculation here but I think this is a rare case where it showcases the differences in how Carlos and Charles approach conflict resolution and define "talking about it."

From what Nicholas Todt said (lol) we can infer they probably did talk after Sprint, but it probably wasn't more than a few words, given the short time between Sprint and Qualifying.

This is where the difference in interpretation comes in:

Charles knows Carlos has apologised and they have no problems, and he's always been level-headed post race, so he says "Yes, it is all done and all good, no problems." In short, we both are okay about it, so I don't see any problems.

Now, it's not as if Carlos is saying they didn't have a short conversation when he says "The reality is we didn't manage to talk". But they didn't have time after the sprint to have a full debrief and go into the damage he took from Fernando before the incident and the subsequent lack of grip he had from there on after. He did apologise for his part in the move in the corner, but they hadn't had time to fully analyse it. So, we are both okay about it, but we haven't talked about it.

So it's not like they're beefing. It's just that to Charles, "We have talked about it" = "We both feel good about it now", while to Carlos, "We have talked about it" = "We have discussed what happened and all its factors at length."

They're both good about it. It's just that Carlos has always been one to like to explain and discuss things in-depth, and Charles has always been the easygoing friend and teammate that is happy as long as both sides agree they have no problem with each other.