dracoflaco

[dracoflaco]

this physically and mentally abuse me lmaooo

i can do it with a broken heart — mv33 (part 1)

when max breaks up with you, you’re left heartbroken and confused. you thought you'd spend the rest of your life with him and your world is turned upside down. even more so, when his new relationship emerges. but you're determined to carry on and you're still perfectly capable of doing your job, even with a broken heart. (40.3k total; 21.0k in this part)

max verstappen x red bull strategist! reader

warnings/contents: please PLEASE read these carefully because there is a lot (these cover both parts)! swearing, suggestive content, mentions/references to struggles with eating, panic and anxiety attacks, mentions of the aftermath of a car accident, fainting incident, hospital visits, drinking and alcohol, there is a drink spiking incident, max and kelly’s relationship is a major focus but hate of any sort will be deleted and blocked (for plot purposes they only start dating in 2024), family dynamics mentioned, use of YN but only in texts and social media posts, some old ig handles lol

a/n: hello! first of all, once again, please read the warnings! this will deal with a lot, so please be aware! secondly, well this was an absolute heck of a fic to write! fun fact, it was meant to be a short fic that got me into posting but it spiralled and here we are... as you can see there will be 2 parts and there may also be an alternate ending... title from i can do it with a broken heart by taylor swift. soooo with that, make yourself a cuppa, a drink, a snack, whatever tickles your fancy, enjoy! and please let me know your feedback!

2022

You’re lying on the sofa with Max, head on his chest as you curl up into his side. His fingers are running through your hair gently as you both focus on the movie on the television. You hum quietly, perfectly content with where you are and you’re almost falling asleep to his soothing motions when Max speaks up.

“I’m going to marry you someday.”

“What?” You laugh, lifting your head from his chest to stare at him. He was staring back at you, a serious look on his face.

“I’m not saying now. I’m just saying that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You’re it for me. I love you more than anything.”

“I love you too Maxie. Forever and a day.”

“Forever and a day.” He confirms, pulling you in for a kiss that only lasts for a few seconds before you pull away giggling. “How about, if I win three championships, I’m getting down on one knee and proposing.” 

“If?” 

“It’s not a guarantee, schat.” 

“I believe in you. You are amazing,” You take a break in between words to press kisses to his lips. “Plus, now you have extra incentive.”

“That I do.” Max beams up at you, one hand tangling in your hair. “I can’t wait to be able to call you mine. Forever.”

“I’m already yours forever. I always will be.”

“Then I can’t wait to put a ring on it.”

“Alright, well, when you win your third championship, we’ll get engaged.” You said through giggles as he wraps you in his hold, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

“It’s a deal.” He breathes against your skin before pulling you for a long kiss and you spend the night in each others arms, quiet laughter and soft words spoken in your own little bubble. 

—&.&—

liked by maxverstappen, charlesleclerc, and others

yourusername its me and you, thats my whole world. forever and a day with you x

tagged: maxverstappen

maxverstappen forever and a day my love xx

liked by yourusername, landonorris, and others

maxverstappen holiday snaps 

tagged: yourusername

yourusername i love you x

landonorris invites much

↳ maxverstappen yes my first thought when i want to go on holiday with my girlfriend is invite you

↳ yourusername dont worry, you’re invited next time lan xx

georgerussell looking like a wonderful time team! i hope you're having a lovely time

↳ maxverstappen thanks mate!

liked by maxverstappen, georgerussell, and others

yourusername sleepy holiday mornings 

tagged: maxverstappen

landonorris can you please have a warning next time? i don’t need to see that many photos of shirtless max

georgerussell i agree with lando 

alexalbon i also agree with lando

charlesleclerc yeah we so need a warning next time please 

maxverstappen i love you x

user1 this is so cute, i want what they have 

user2 don’t know who im more jealous of tbh??? 

liked by maxverstappen, landonorris, and others

yourusername i’m so proud of you and everything you’ve accomplished. i can’t imagine doing life with anyone else and im so grateful we get to go on this journey together

tagged: maxverstappen

maxverstappen i love you, forever and a day x

landonorris you guys are kind of cute i guess

redbullracing that’s our RB couple!

charlesleclerc less kissing at the barriers, there are kids around 

—&.&— 

January 2023 

“What are you saying? Do you… do you want to break-up?”

“I don’t know, I…”

“What’s bringing this on Max? I thought we were happy. I thought…” You’re unable to finish your sentence but the words flit through your head regardless.

I thought you wanted to marry me. I thought we were ready to spend the rest of our lives together. 

“We were, we are,” He insists, taking a step closer to you and grabbing onto your hand. “It’s just that I know the upcoming year is going to be so much and I don’t want to not be able to commit time to you, to us. It wouldn’t be fair to you.”

“We’ve never had an issue before. Not about this. That’s never been a problem.”

“I know that. But I can already see this season being bigger and more than ever -”

“We’ve literally never had that issue before so I don’t know why you think it’s suddenly a reason to break up. We’ve always been this, been us. There’s a reason it works well. We understand what the other goes through. I would never stand in the way of what you’re trying to achieve and if you want to take more time to train, put in the hours, whatever, you don’t have to worry about me. I get it and I’d support you however you need,” You’re trying not to let the tears overwhelm you but you know you’re fighting a losing battle. He’s got a determined look in his eyes, one you know only too well. “You don’t need to be by my side all the time. I’m a fully functioning adult with a full time job too. I don’t need you to entertain me and look after me every minute of every day. We can work around it all.”

“I know you are. I know you don’t need me there all the time. I just think you deserve someone who can give you the time and I don’t think that’s going to me next year -“

“Don’t tell me what I deserve. This isn’t the real reason and I know that!” The tears are fully falling down your face now but you’re beyond caring. “We have always been open about our jobs and what it entails and none of this has ever been a problem! I don’t know why you’re lying but I know there’s more to this. Did I do something wrong?”

“No, of course you didn’t.” Max breathes quietly, surprise flitting over his face that you could even ask that question. 

“Then why? I thought we were building a life together, I thought…” You swallow hard, wiping your face with your hands hastily. The words are still unable to be spoken out loud by you. 

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know why you’re trying to lie. I… but I know you’re not going to budge on this. If this is what you truly want, then okay. I’m not going to make it hard on you…”

“Just give me time, give me… I… I still love you. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone.” His voice is barely above a whisper and he stares at you, tears in his eyes.

“I love you too. You’re it for me. You’re the only person that’s ever felt like home.” You’re crying softly again now, tears slipping down your face but you don’t make a move to wipe them off your face. 

“I’m sorry. Give me… I’ll always love you.”

“Me too. I… I’m going to see if I can stay with Charles tonight. I…” You take a step back, unable to look him in the eye anymore. He has the same heartbroken expression on his face as you’re sure is on yours and it makes it all the more difficult to turn your back on him. You can't help the sob that leaves your throat as you exit the room and head towards the bedroom. 

YN: hey, are you busy?

CL: just at home. why? you alright?

YN: will you come pick me up?

YN: please? 

CL: yeah of course 

CL: give me 10 minutes

CL: everything okay?

“Hey, what’s wrong? Did you and Max get into a fight?” Charles asks quietly, as you scramble into the car, dropping your bag at your feet.

“You can say that. He broke up with me.” You choke out, trying not to let the tears fall as you turn to stare out the window and you hear Charles’ sharp intake of breath.

“Merde, shit, I… I’m sorry. Are you okay?“

“I don’t know, I just… I can’t even think straight,” You exhale shakily, shoving your trembling hands underneath your thighs. “Can I stay with you, just for tonight and then I’ll work something else out -“

“Stop being stupid, you can stay as long as you need or want.”

“Thanks Charlie.” You turn to give him a weak smile and he returns it, hand reaching to squeeze your shoulder gently.

“Anytime. I’m here for you. However you need.”

“Thank you.” You whisper quietly before you turn your head to look out the window, not wanting him to see the tears fall. But you know he’s already caught them from his quiet sigh and the hand he keeps over yours. 

The rest of the short car ride is silent and you don’t speak, not even as he guides you inside gently, taking your bag from you and carrying it into the guest room.

“I might just take a nap if that’s okay.” You murmur quietly, tears still glistening in your eyes as you turn to him and his face softens.

“Yeah, of course that’s alright. I’ll be downstairs, okay? Come get me if you need anything or text me.”

“Thanks Charlie.” You give him the best smile you can manage and an involuntary hitch in your voice comes out. He gives you a hand squeeze before drawing you into a hug.

“Anytime.”

“Not even going to reprimand me for calling you Charlie?”

“I’ll let it slide this time. Now, get some sleep in, okay? And drink some water.” 

“Yeah, okay.” He draws back, giving you one last smile before he closes the door gently behind him. You stare at the closed door for a few seconds, until the sounds of his footsteps are no longer audible. It’s not until you’ve changed into pyjamas and you’re under the covers, with the room plunged in darkness that you let the tears fall. 

You wake up a few hours later with your head pounding and dried tears on your face. It takes you longer than it usually does but you eventually make your way out of bed and wash your face. As you make your way out of the bedroom, you pull on a hoodie before you slowly make your way down the hallway.

“Hey.” Charles shoots up from the sofa when you shuffle into the living room and you give him your best attempt at a smile.

“Hi.”

“Want to come sit?” You slowly make your way and settle onto the sofa next to him. He passes you a blanket and you curl up underneath it as he wraps an arm around you. “Do you want anything? Is there anything you need?”

“No, I’m okay, thank you though.” 

“Okay,” Charles says softly, giving you a squeeze on the shoulder. “I was going to get started on some dinner. Is there anything you feel like?”

“I’m not that hungry.”

“You’re going to eat something for dinner. Don’t even bother arguing.” He says flatly, eyebrows raised at you and you hold his gaze for a few moments before sighing quietly.

“I’m fine with anything. Do you need some help?

“I was going to make chicken and leek pasta. How about you help with chopping some vegetables?” 

“Okay.” You give him a small smile, before moving off the sofa and shuffling behind him into the kitchen. He hands you everything he wants chopping and sets you up beside him on the bench. 

You know he’s trying to distract you as he talks away, telling you stories about Christmas and the antics him, Arthur, and Enzo got up to. He puts music on and dances, terribly, and teases you gently. When a slightly slower song comes on and he senses your mood drop, he gently takes the knife from you before pulling you into some open space. One arm wraps around your waist and the other takes your hand and he dances with you. You can feel tears building in your eyes as he spins you around before wrapping you tightly in his arms.

“It’s going to be alright, I promise.” He whispers in your ear quietly and you bury your head in his chest and try to believe him, even with tears slipping down your cheeks.

—&.&—

MV: hey

MV: how is she? 

CL: max… how do you think she is

MV: i know, i know i dont have the right to ask that but i just need to know shes okay 

CL: she’s… i don’t know what to tell you max

MV: the truth. is she eating and drinking water? because she’s really bad at that sometimes 

MV: she forgets especially when she’s working and she’ll try tell you its fine but don’t believe her

MV: and you have to make sure she doesn’t drink coffee after 4pm or she wont sleep 

MV: and she’ll try tell you it’s fine but it’s not 

CL: ill look after her. i promise

MV: thank you  

—&.&—

Max shifts from foot to foot as he waits outside the door. He knows that he shouldn’t be there, that he doesn’t have the right anymore, but his need to know you’re okay wins out. He doesn’t have to wait long as Charles opens the door almost immediately. His face is sympathetic but also guarded. He deserves it, he deserves Charles to turn around and slam the door in his face because he knows that you’re like a sister to Charles.

“Hey Max, do you want to come in?” 

“If that’s okay.”

“Yeah, ‘course,” Charles lets out a soft sigh and steps back, letting him in and the two walk silently to the living room. “Can I get you anything?

“No, I’m okay, thank you,” Max says softly, sitting down as he ponders how to start talking. “I…”

“She’s not here anymore.” Charles takes pity on Max, answering the question he can’t even ask.

“What do you mean she’s not here?

“She… she’s moved back to the UK,” Charles says softly, giving him a sympathetic look. “She left yesterday.”

“What?”

“Max…”

“But this is her home. I… I… this is her home...”

“This was her home with you. She moved here to be with you.”

“But… but…”

“Imagine if the roles were reversed. Would you want to stay in a place that holds so many memories?” Charles asks gently and Max knows he doesn’t deserve his kindness. He would rather Charles berate him and yell at him, because he knows he deserves it. 

“Where did she go?”

“Milton Keynes. Close to the Red Bull headquarters.”

“Is she okay? Have you talked to her? She hates living by herself and being alone. She -“

“I’ve been calling her every day and I’m going to see her next week. George saw her last week and Lando’s got plans with her tomorrow,” Charles claps a reassuring hand on Max’s shoulder. “She’s got a lot of people looking out for her.”

“She hates living by herself, it’s always too empty, too big.” Max repeats so quietly he may as well have been talking to himself. 

“We’ll look out for her. I’ll look out for her. If it gets bad, I’ll move her in with me.”

“Fuck.” Max drops his head in his hands and Charles pats him on the back softly. He doesn’t know what happened between the two of you and he doesn’t want to pry. But you’re both some of his closest friends and you both look as cut up about it as each other.

“Are you okay?”

“I broke up with her. I’m not really sure I have the right to not be okay.”

“I don’t think that’s true. I’m not going to ask what happened because it’s not my place and if you want to keep it private, then I respect that. You two are both my friends. But it’s quite clear you’re just as cut up about it.”

“I’ve never loved anyone the way I love her,” Max says quietly, head still buried in his hands. “I was going to marry her. I just… This upcoming year, there’s something about it. There’s so much pressure and I don’t want her to be there if it gets ugly. I don’t want to take it out on her, even if it’s accidental. I don’t want to not be able to give her the time, and love, and attention she deserves. I…”

“Okay, but you two have been doing this for years together and it’s always worked. You two have been setting the standard for the rest of us since you got together,” Charles says softly, placing a gentle hand on Max’s back. “Why would this season be any different?”

“I don’t know, I just,” Max trails off, shaking his head and when he looks up, his eyes are glassy. “I feel so much pressure already and I’m scared I’m going to do something like snap at her and I don’t want to ever hurt her.”

“So, breaking up with her is the next solution? Max. You’re not your father, you know that right? She knows that. Of course the two of you will fight, but that’s normal. But you’d never treat her the way your dad treated you as a kid. You’re not him. Not even close.”

“I know, I just… Everything got in my head and…” “Everything? Or was it someone…”

“Someone, everyone, everything. God, I don’t know.” Max buries his head in his hands again, hiding away his red eyes and all Charles can do is pat him on the back gently and offer soft words of comfort.

—&.&—

February 2023

Of all things Max expected to happen on a Thursday night, your name flashing up on his phone isn’t one of them. He debates not answering it, but the need to know you’re okay wins out. 

“Max?” Your voice is shaky and you’ve been crying. You still are and he can hear you struggle to take breaths in. He’s immediately on alert, sitting up straight and turning off the television so he can focus on you.

”What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

”How can I be okay when we’re no longer together and I don’t know what to even make of my life anymore?” Your sobs break Max’s heart apart and he tries to remain calm, remain rational, but the more he hears your cries, the more frantic he feels. Because in the time he’s known you, in the time you’ve been together, he can count on one hand the number of times you’ve cried like this.

“Where are you? Are you safe?”

”I’m at Jimmy’z.”

”You’re in Monaco?” Max freezes, before standing up and striding towards his front door, gathering his keys from the key hook by the door. He tries to ignore the fact that you’re the one that had gotten it, years ago, teasing him about how he always misplaced his keys.

”Yeah.”

”I’m coming to get you. Can you stay there?”

”Okay.” You sniffle and before he can tell you to stay on the phone until he gets there, you’ve already hung up. 

He drives as fast as he safely can, pulling up to a space just outside the club. It’s relatively quiet, unsurprising given the day. You must have been waiting just inside the doors, because you come out the moment he pulls up. Your arms are wrapped around yourself as you walk towards him and he can already spot the tear tracks on your cheeks and the redness in your eyes.

”Hey, are you okay?” Max is thankful for his quick reflexes because the moment you’re close enough, you’re collapsing into his arms, face buried in his chest as the tears start again. He wraps his arms around you, holding you up as you cling to him. 

”No.”

”Come on, it’s alright. Let me take you home, okay?” He tries to soothe you, seeing the way you have a visible reaction to the word home, because it’s not really your home. Not anymore. 

“Okay.” You let him bundle you in the car and neither of you speak until you arrive back at the house, following him inside silently and moving to sit on the edge of the sofa next to him.

”Come here.” Max doesn't have to ask twice and you’re in his arms, the tears flowing again. You can’t even form the words you want to say, the sobs racking your body as you bury your head in his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around you. You don’t know how long you’re there for but when your tears finally stop, you have a headache and you’re exhausted.  

“I’m sorry, I…” You sniffle quietly, sitting up and shuffling away slightly from him. You pull your knees up to your chest and wrap your arms around them, pulling them close to you. 

“You don’t have anything to be sorry about.”

“I didn’t even mean to call you. You’re just… you’re the first person I thought of.” 

“I’ll be here every time you need.” 

“Okay,” You say after a few minutes of silence. You want to argue but decide to drop it at the last minute and you give him a small shrug and an attempt at a smile. “Thank you.”

“Do you want a shower and something to change into?” 

“Yes, please. If that’s alright.” 

“Yeah, of course that’s okay,” He lets out a quiet sigh before standing up and offering you a hand. You take it without hesitation and he leads you into the bedroom and the adjoining ensuite. “I’ll leave some clothes out for you, will you be okay by yourself?”

“Yeah. Thank you.”

“I’ll fix us some tea and maybe a snack, how about that? Come down when you’re ready.”

“Okay.” You gave him a faint smile and Max watches as you disappear into the bathroom and he listens for the water to turn on. There’s a few shuffling sounds from inside as he leaves some joggers and a cosy shirt he knows you’ve always favoured out on the bed, alongside a hoodie, before he leaves.

You emerge from the bathroom and a faint smile comes over you when you see the outfit he’s laid out. The familiar feeling of the shirt against your skin and the thought that he still remembered the little details made your heart twinge. 

“Hey, I made some tea,” Max smiles softly at you when you pad your way into the living room. He stands up and waits until you’re settled in the corner of the sofa before passing you a mug. “And I’ve got some biscuits.”

“Thank you. For everything. For picking up the phone and picking me up. I… I’m sorry that I called you.”

“Don’t be. I’m glad you called.” 

The two of you share a soft smile and you burst into laughter when he attempts to dip his biscuit in his tea and ends up dropping the entire thing in. It feels like it used to - there’s no awkwardness or uncomfortable silences. It could be just like every other night where you’re both snuggled on the sofa at the end of the day. But it’s not and that much is apparent when later on, you come to a halt outside the bedroom, suddenly unsure about everything.

“Can I stay with you? Please?” 

“Yeah. ‘Course you can.” Max breathes quietly, grabbing your hand and leading you into the bedroom. He can hear your shaky breaths from behind him and he turns around. You look nervous, shifting from foot to foot and the hand not attached to his is fiddling with your top. With his top. “Hey, it’s alright. Come here.”

You let him pull you closer and after a brief hesitation, he bundles you into his arms, holding you tight against his chest. The tears fall faster than you can even comprehend, but you can’t even think about that, because all you know is you feel safe in his arms. He heads for the bed and brings you with him, holding you close to him.

“You’re alright, sweet girl, it’s okay.” Max runs a hand through your hair gently, continues to murmur to you quietly and you just stay stuck to his side, curling your body into his. 

“I’m sorry -”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. It’s okay, you can sleep, alright? You’re safe. I’m here.” Max murmurs softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he tightens his arms around you. You let out a soft sigh and your breathing evens out as you rest your head on his chest. You already feel calmer, his familiar touch grounding you. The past month on your own has been more difficult than you could’ve imagined. Sleep has been futile, you’re not used to sleeping alone anymore, and you had been tossing and turning every night until you had given up. It had resulted in you going days without sleep until you finally crashed.

“I miss you so much.” Your voice is barely above a whisper and Max feels you crowd even closer to him, pressing yourself into his side. He moves a hand to the back of your head, stroking it in gentle movements. 

“I know, me too.”

“Why did you break up with me? What did I do wrong?” A fresh wave of tears starts and he can feel your body shake with the sobs and his heart breaks even more.

”You did nothing wrong. It’s not anything you did.” He whispers against the crown of your head, tightening his arms around you.

“How am I supposed to believe that?”

“I’m sorry.” Those are the only words he can muster up and this time you don’t respond. He hears the quiet whimper that leaves your lips and the way you cling tighter to him. Only quiet sniffles escape your mouth once in a while but soon he can feel you relax fully against him and your breathing slows. He glances down to see you fast asleep, tucked against him, and although there are still tears glistening on your cheeks, there’s a look of peace and calm that wasn't there before and he just tightens his grasp around you.

—&.&—

Max misses the first call from you, having left his phone in the kitchen whilst he was finding something in the bedroom. He sees the second one but stares at his phone until it stops ringing and your photo disappears from the screen. Almost every part of him is screaming to pick up, because its you. But the call ends before he can make a decision, it falls silent again and he’s left staring at the black screen of his phone.

Then it rings again not even ten minutes later and dread and curiosity fills him because something in his gut says there’s something terribly wrong. And he’s right because though it’s your number, it’s not your voice that answers.

“Hello?”

“Hi, who is this sorry?”

“This is Carolina, from the Princess Grace Hospital. You were the emergency contact on this phone -.” But everything else fades and he doesn’t take a single word in the moment he hears it’s the hospital. He’s already moving for his keys and out the door as the other person on the phone keeps talking. “Hello? Are you still there?”

“Sorry. Yes. I’m still here. What happened? Is she okay?”

“There was a car accident - someone crashed into her. But she’s stable and sleeping right now.”

“I’m on my way now. Thank you for calling.” Max hangs up the phone, half running to his car as the dread in him continues to rise. Guilt pricks at him for not picking up the phone earlier and he’s imagining the worst case scenario in his head. He drives faster than he probably should but he’d take all the speeding tickets right now. All he can think of is getting to you. 

He rushes into reception and when they finally get around to telling him where you are, he’s striding the hallways until he finds the room you’re in. He doesn’t think anything could’ve prepared him for the sight of you in the hospital bed, a bandage around your head and around your left forearm. A bruise is already blossoming down your neck and he sees tiny nicks and scratches amongst the IV and lines coming from you.

His footsteps are slow and cautious and you don’t stir, not even as he takes a seat on the edge of the bed. One hand moves to brush the hair off your face and he’s struck by how fragile you look. All he can do is stare, almost afraid of touching you in case he hurts you. He hates that he wasn’t there for you and he’s just imagining how terrified you must have been.

“They’ve given her some strong pain meds, she might be sleeping for a while.” A soft voice says and he looks up to see someone in scrubs standing in the doorway, a tablet in hand. She walks in quietly, giving Max a gentle smile. 

“Is she okay?”

“She’ll be sore for a bit, but she should be fine. It seems mostly superficial but we are monitoring her for a concussion.”

“But she’s okay?” Max repeats, looking up from you to her again. 

“I’m not going to make any promises, but it does look good.” 

“Okay. Thank you.” His voice is soft and he glances back at you, hand tight around yours. 

“She was asking for you earlier. I’m sure she’ll love to see you when she wakes up. I’ll leave you to it. Just press the call button if you need anything.” She says quietly, a smile stretching across her face as she watches how lovingly he looks at you, before she leaves and shuts the door quietly behind her.

Max settles himself in the chair in the corner, throwing a blanket over his legs and getting comfortable. He doesn’t know how long he’ll be here, but all he knows is he’s going to make damn sure he’s going to be here when you wake up. His fingers hover over a contact in his phone, hesitating slightly, before he presses call.

“Max? Is everything alright?” The familiar voice of his mother fills his ear and it immediately puts him at ease.

“Yeah, I mean, no, I don’t know… I’m at the hospital -”

“What? Are you okay?!”

“I’m okay, it’s not for me… I…” Max’s voice tells Sophie everything she needs to know and she lets out a long breath. 

“Is she okay?”

“I… I think so… She was in a car accident and I was still her emergency contact so they called me. When I heard it was the hospital I was so scared… I… The doctors said she’s just a bit banged up but seeing her in the bed, she looks so fragile and there’s nothing I can do.” 

“Sweetheart, you’re there for her. That’s all you can do.” Sophie says gently, her voice soothing and quiet. 

“She must have been so scared and she was all alone -”

“Max, listen to me. You can’t change what has happened, okay? But you can be there for her. You’re there for her now and that’s what matters. You showed up.”

“Yeah…”

“Do you want me to fly over?”

“No, no, it’s fine. It’s fine. Thank you, though. I appreciate it,” Max lets out a long breath, pausing momentarily when he sees you shift slightly, but you remain asleep. “I’ll wait for her to wake up and then see what the doctors say. But she’s not flying back to the UK by herself, not like this.”

“I think that’s a good idea, sweetheart.”

“Oh, I think she’s waking up, I should go.” Max’s eyes snap to you again when you shift again, this time a little more aggressively. 

“Okay, give her my best and give me any updates. I love you.”

“I love you too. Thank you.”

“Of course, any time.” Sophie says softly and they hang up, Max shoving the phone back in his pocket when he sees you blink awake, head turning to take in your surroundings.

“Hey, hi, be careful, let me help.” Max shoots off his chair when he sees you try to move and he’s by your side in a blink of an eye, his arms supporting you as you sit up against the headboard.

“You came.”

“Of course I came. Do you know how scared I was when I got that call saying you were in the hospital?”

“I… sorry.”

“What on earth are you apologising for?”

“I forgot you were my emergency contact. I’ll change it, I promise -“

”Stop being a bloody idiot,” Max mutters quietly, cutting across you. “You don’t have anything to be sorry about. And don’t change your emergency contact.”

“Max -”

“We travel together so much anyway. It just makes sense.” 

“I don’t want to overstep. Hannah’s mentioned I can use her -“

“You’re not overstepping. Keep me as your emergency contact, okay?”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. Don’t be stupid.” Max’s voice is gruff, but his gaze softens when he catches your gaze. 

“Okay, thank you.”

“Do you remember what happened?” 

“Some idiot just decided to run a red light. I’m fine. Just a little bruised.” You let out a laugh, but stop when you feel pain course through you. You wince slightly and he notices it immediately, because of course he does. 

“Are you okay? Where does it hurt? Do you want me to call someone in here?”

“No it’s okay, just a little bit bruised and battered. Some rest will be fine.”

“You’re sure? You’re not just trying to put on a brave face or anything like that?”

“I’m sure. I’m just a bit sore.” You’re saved from trying to convince him further when there’s a knock at the door and the same woman from earlier walks in.

“Hi, it’s good to see you awake. How are you feeling?”

“Just a bit banged up, but that’s it.”

“That’s good to hear. We still want to keep you at least overnight, just to make sure, but you should be free to go tomorrow morning. Do you live alone or?”

”She’s coming home with me.” Max says immediately and you go to open your mouth but he raises his eyebrows at you and you know you’d be fighting a losing battle if you tried to argue. 

“Okay, she mainly needs to rest. She’ll be a bit sore for a while, but just keep an eye out for concussion symptoms. I’ll grab you some pamphlets and get all the paperwork sorted.”

“Okay. Thank you.” Max nods and smiles and the nurse leaves the room, shutting the door quietly behind her.

“It’s fine, Max. I’ll just fly back to the UK -“

“Are you sure you don’t have a concussion because are you actually insane? You just got in a serious car accident. There’s no way you’re in actual shape to do anything, let alone get on a plane.”

“I just don’t want to be a bother.” You mumble quietly, staring down at your hands as they twist themselves around the bedsheet.

“Don’t be stupid. You’re never a bother. At least stay for a few days and make sure you’re okay. Then I’ll fly back with you and help you get settled.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Doesn’t mean I won’t. Besides, I was going to call Christian anyway, so may as well go see him in person.”

“Max.”

“We’ll talk about it later, okay? We don’t have to decide anything right now.” He decides on an ambiguous comment, knowing you weren’t going to let the discussion go. But he was just as stubborn as you, and there was zero chance he was letting you leave by yourself at this very moment. 

You stare at him silently, but you eventually cave, realising that he wasn’t going to budge. He sighs happily as you collapse back onto your pillows silently and you let him organise everything with the doctors.

Several hours later you’re back in Max’s flat, with everything you need and an incident where you tripped getting out of the car, that almost had Max calling the hospital back. Despite your insistence that it was due to your clumsiness and not a product of a concussion, you had to practically knock the phone out of his hand to ensure he didn’t press call.

“Alright, are you comfy? Do you need anything? Do you want another blanket?” Max hovers over you protectively as he immediately goes to grab the blanket on the other side of the sofa and tucks it around you gently.

“Max -”

“I’ll get you some water and some tea and then we can talk about dinner. I’ll see what I have in or I can do a shop or order something in. I’ll make sure it’s healthy and nutritious.”

“Max -”

“You should use the bathroom in the main bedroom because its got the bath as well and there’s more space so you can get around -”

“Max.” Your insistence finally gets his attention and he spins around to see you trying to extract yourself from the cocoon he’s wrapped you in. His eyes widen and he rushes over to help you and when your arms are free, you grab onto one of his hands before he can run off again. “Max, I’m fine. Why don’t you sit down and just take a breath?”

“But -”

“I’m fine, I promise. I just need to rest and sleep.”

“You sure?” 

“Yes, I’m sure. Why don’t we just watch a movie or something, yeah?” You tug at his hand until he focuses fully on you.

“Okay. Can I at least get you some water or something to drink?”

“Some water would be really nice, if that's okay.” You offer him a smile, knowing that he wouldn’t rest until you accepted his help. 

“Of course.” Max shoots up from the sofa and he’s halfway across the room before he spins around and heads back towards you. Despite your protests, he tucks the blanket back around you, offering you another pillow that he helps wedge behind your back. He’s back in a flash, handing you a glass of water and hovering close by as you drink from it.

“Max, I’m okay. You can relax a little.” Your voice is soft and when you grab onto his hand again, he slowly sinks into the sofa, eyes on you the whole time.

“I was so worried when I got that phone call and I heard you were in a car crash. Then seeing you in the hospital bed…”

“I know, I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“You’re the one who got in a car accident and you’re the one apologising? Same old you.” Max gives you a wry smile and you can’t help but smile back at him.

“I’ll be okay. Let’s just watch a movie and relax for now, yeah? And if anything feels weird or off, I’ll say something.”

“Yeah, alright. Okay. As long as you promise you’ll say something.”

“I promise.” You hold out your pinky finger and he chuckles quietly before linking your pinkies together, shaking your hands up and down. As Max gets himself comfortable, he draws you into his hold, movements cautious at first as if he's still afraid you’ll break. 

You spend the night in his bed, curled up close to his side. He had initially proposed sleeping on an air mattress, just so he could be there if anything happened. But you had promptly dismissed the idea and pulled him in next to you. The two of you fall back into a comfortable routine the next few days, except for the fact Max doesn’t let you lift a single finger. You have to stop him from panic-calling the hospital twice. Once when you get the day wrong and he’s convinced you have a concussion and the other when you slip on the floor and narrowly miss banging your head on the floor. So you really shouldn't have been surprised at his reaction when you come to him a week later with your news.

“I booked a flight. It’s going to leave tomorrow.”

“What? I said I’d take you back, that I’d come with you and help you get settled.” He looks up at you in shock and alarm, immediately dropping the chef’s knife he’s using onto the counter.

“I know. And I really appreciate that, but I… I need to do this myself. I want to rely on myself.” You say quietly and his face crumples. Because he knows what you mean when you say that. Because it’s a reminder that you two are no longer together and to you, it means you’re alone and by yourself. You’re so fiercely independent and it's one of the many reasons he loves you, but he knows that you see it as further evidence you can only rely on one person. Yourself. 

“Can I change your mind?”

“No. I’m sorry, I… I have to do this.”

“Okay, okay. Can I at least drive you to the airport tomorrow?” Max asks quietly, eyes searching yours as if he’s looking for something that he can use to help change your mind. 

“I would really like that. Thank you.” 

“Anytime. Well, dinner’s almost ready.” 

“Do you need help with anything?”

“Maybe just setting the table if that’s alright.”

“Of course. Do you want anything to drink or just water?” You call over your shoulder as you gather some glasses and at his response you pour two glasses of water before heading towards the dining room. You hum quietly to yourself, still hearing the faint tunes of the music Max has playing in the kitchen. 

The two of you spend the rest of your night in your own little bubble, talking and laughing together. There’s an ease you feel around Max that you’ve not felt around anyone else. You don’t have to pretend or put up a front or anything around him. He’s home. 

—&.&—

March 2023

You thought you’d be more prepared for it, seeing him again. He’s greeting some of the team, slapping hands and bumping fists as they catch up on the last few months. His hair has been freshly cut you notice and he’s shaved recently.  You haven’t seen him since the aftermath of your car accident in Monaco and it’s certainly the first time you’ve been around friends, around colleagues, around everyone since you’ve broken up. 

You shift from foot to foot, wondering whether or not you can make a break for it when he spots you. His eyes light up and he wraps up the conversations he’s in and soon enough, he’s right in front of you.

“Hi. It’s good to see you.” He says softly, blinking at you a few times before he steps forwards and wraps you in a tight hug. 

“Hey Max, yeah you too.” You breathe quietly as you step out of his embrace, immediately missing the safety of his arms.

“And you’re alright? After the car accident and everything?”

“Yeah, yeah, completely fine.”

“And you got a follow-up to make sure everything’s alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine. I promise.” You give him a smile and reach out to squeeze his hand, which seems to calm him down. 

“Okay. Good. I’m glad.”

“Thank you. I know I’ve said it before, but thank you for coming and all the help and… Taking care of me.” 

“I’ll always take care of you,” Max says quietly, his hand still intertwined with yours and his thumb brushes featherlight touches against the back of your hand. “I know how much you hate hospitals and I couldn’t let you be there by yourself.”

“I really appreciate it. All of it. You,” You let out a quiet exhale and give him a small smile and he returns it. The two of you are broken out of your small bubble when there’s a small crash and you jump apart, turning to see a box with its contents all over the floor. Bystanders jump in to help gather it up and it's then you realise where you are and you put space in between the two of you. “I’ve got a meeting to go to. Um, I’ll catch you later?”

“Yeah, later will be nice. I’ll see you soon.” Max says quietly, taking a small step towards you and hesitates slightly before pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

“See you soon.” You echo and walk down the hallway and towards your meeting. Max wants to call after you, to say something, but he doesn’t know what. So, he just watches you until you’re gone and then heads towards his own meeting with a heavy heart.

—&.&—

April 2023

Max frowns when he sees the missed calls from you on his phone - he hasn’t spoken to you since the race in China, and you seemed fine, if not just a bit tired. But something in his gut tells him there’s something wrong and when he sees a three minute long voicemail you’ve left half an hour ago, the feeling gets worse. You haven’t tried to call him since you’ve left the voicemail and he hesitantly presses play and the sound of you crying fills his ears.

“I miss you so much and I don’t know how I’m even supposed to live without you.” You’re sobbing and he can hear you struggle to breathe, your words punctuated by small gasps. “And I hate living alone, I hate it so much. It’s scary and I feel so anxious all the time. And it feels so lonely and empty. Nothing has ever felt like home except for with you.”

Max’s heart sinks with every word and all he can do is listen to you cry. There’s nothing he can do and he knows you’re panicking and he’s just praying you’re okay.

“And I don’t even know why I called you but you’ve been the one person I’ve been able to count on for the last few years and you’ve always picked up. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do when you still tell me you miss me and you let me stay and you say you still love me, and you hug me until I fall asleep.” A series of hiccups breaks up your words and you pause for a few seconds. “You tell me it’s not because of me and that you still love me. That it’s because you don’t think you can give me or us the proper time but that’s never been an issue for us. We’ve always been a team and we’ve always worked like this. Our whole relationship has been us in these roles so I don’t understand why now it’s a problem? And if you needed to take some time away from us to focus on yourself and racing or whatever, that’s okay. You could’ve done that. I would have supported you in whatever you needed. I still would, I always will. It’s just always been us and now it’s not and I don’t know what to do.” 

There’s silence for a few moments, only the sounds of you sniffing audible. Your cries have slowed down but one still slips out once in a while. 

“I don’t even know what I’m trying to say anymore but I miss you so much. Loving you has been the easiest thing I’ve ever done. I just… I don’t know what to do. I don’t know anymore…” Your voice trails off again and the sounds of your shaky breathing fill his ears. Then all of a sudden the voicemail ends and the dull beeping tone fills his ears.

He immediately hangs up and tries to call you but he’s immediately sent to your voicemail. He know its futile but he tries again and again, only to be met with the same result. 

MV: long shot, but are either of you close to milton keynes right now??

GR: im up north at the moment sorry

GR: is everything ok?

LN: im home for the next week, i can get there if needed

LN: what’s wrong

MV: she’s just called me a few times and left a… voicemail and im just worried 

MV: like really worried, ive never heard her like that

LN: let me try call her 

GR: ill give her a quick text as well

GR: im sure itll be fine mate

—&.&—

YN: im sorry, i shouldn’t have left that voice message

YN: im fine 

YN: i just… didn’t think 

MV: call me 

MV: please x

YN: im fine, i promise

MV: call me 

MV: please

—&.&—

August 2023

liked by maxverstappen, alexandrasaintmleux, and others 

yourusername another lap around the sun. thank you for the love and birthday wishes x

charlesleclerc joyeux anniversaire xx thanks for being the bestest friend ever, lots of love for you xx

↳ yourusername love you charlie x

alexandrasaintmleux HAPPY BIRTHDAY PRETTY GIRL! love you so much. can’t wait to celebrate with you soon xx

↳ yourusername love you alex xx

landonorris happy birthday baby bull!! i love you, can’t wait to celebrate soon!

↳ yourusername love you lan xx

maxverstappen happy birthday, i hope you have a wonderful day xx

↳ yourusername thank you max x see you soon x

oscarpiastri merry birthmas!!! time to go drink and celebrate soon! xx

↳ yourusername osc, merry birthmas isnt a thing…

↳ yourusername but thank youuuu can’t wait to party soon! x

georgerussell happy birthday baby bull!!xx

↳ yourusername thanks georgie x

francisca.cgomes happy birthday beautiful girl!! love you to the moon and back xx

↳ yourusername love you kika xx

carlossainz55 feliz cumpleaños! xx

↳ yourusername muchas gracias carlito! xx

victoriaverstappen happy happy birthday from all us!! we love you so much and cant wait to see you xx

↳ yourusername so much love to you and everyone, miss you xx

sophiekumpen happy birthday lieverd! cant wait to see you soon sweetheart xx

↳ yourusername thank you, i cant wait to see you xx

user1 max not posting a birthday tribute to her and their love story feels so wrong 😭

user2 HAPPY BIRTHDAY 

user3 still the best wag ever, happy birthday hope you have a great day! 

user4 THEY CALL HER BABY BULL?? why did we not know this earlier?? why is that so cute?!

user5 her telling max she’ll see him soon, victoria and sophie saying they can’t wait to see her soon?? the fact they’re still all so close, like shes still family to them?? 

comments on this post have been limited.

—&.&—

MV: happy birthday, hope you have a good day and thinking of you xx

MV: looking forward to being able to celebrate you soon x

YN: thank you x see you soon max x

—&.&—

October 2023

You watch as he lifts the trophy above his head and tears fill your eyes as pride fills you. You know how hard he’s been working, how much he deserves this. It’s been a dominating season for him and it’s all culminated in his third world championship. And suddenly the memory comes rushing through you and you feel like you can’t breathe.

“When I lift that third championship trophy, I’m getting down on one knee straight after and proposing.” 

The words flit through your head on repeat as you think of that scene from all the time ago and it's suddenly all too much. You choke back your tears and take a few steps back. You bump into Hannah, who reaches for you, a concerned look on her face but you shake your head.

“I’ve, I’ve got to go, I… I’ll see you back in the garage.” You manage to get out before you turn and push your way through the throngs of people. The tears have already started flowing and you wipe them away hastily, tugging at the cap on your head to mask your face.

The image of him on the podium with his third championship trophy combined with what you had promised each other is tearing you apart inside and soon you’re sobbing, unable to stop the sharp rises and falls of your chest. You’re not even paying attention and you end up walking right into someone.

“I’m sorry -“

“Woah, hey, hey, what’s wrong?” It’s Alex, who catches you by the arm, stopping you in your tracks before you can slip into the Red Bull garage and concern floods her face when she takes you in. 

“I just can’t do it, I can’t, it hurts too much.” You’re past the point of caring as you sob into Alex’s chest as she pulls you in, wrapping her arms tightly around you. 

“Oh, lovely, I’m sorry. Hey, hey, take a breath okay?”

”I thought I was finally getting over him, but seeing him up there and everything we’d talked about. I, just, I can’t.” The rest of your words are lost in your sobs and Alex shushes you quietly, tightening her arms around you, a hand coming to move up and down your back.

”Okay, okay, how about we sit down for a bit okay? Just to catch your breath.” She pulls back from you, only to wrap and arm around you and lead you towards the Ferrari hospitality and into an empty room. She sets you gently down on the sofa, sitting beside you and you can’t stop the tears from falling.

“We agreed, he said… he said he’d propose when he won his third championship. We had talked about it and seeing him up there winning… All I could think of is how we were supposed to spend the rest of our lives together and now we’re just…” You sob into your knees, arms wrapped tightly around your legs.

”Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry.” Alex murmurs quietly, nudging your head onto her shoulder as she wraps an arm around you. You can’t even respond, tears wracking your body as the feelings overwhelm you. 

You don’t know how long you spend there, sobbing into Alex’s shoulder. But when you finally feel the tears easing, you’re exhausted and your eyes are puffy.

“I’m sorry.” You mumble, using the sleeve of your shirt to dab at your eyes.

“You have nothing to be sorry about. You’re allowed to be upset.”

“It just feels so stupid sometimes.” 

“It’s not stupid. You’re allowed to be upset and feel what you feel. Never apologise for it.” She says softly, squeezing your hand and giving you a gentle smile.

“Yeah… I… I should get back. I… I… It’s been too long.” You whisper, voice hoarse and Alex hesitates, as if though she wants to argue. But then a quiet sigh leaves her lips and she just wraps you up in a tight hug.

“Okay. Call or text me if you need anything.”

“I will.”

“And I’ll come get you later tonight and we can go together.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Charles and I both want to. So, we’ll see you later, okay?” She says firmly and you give her a shaky smile.

“Thank you. Both of you,” You stand up, wiping your eyes with the sleeve of your hoodie. “How do I look? Not too terrible?”

“You look beautiful,” Alex smiles at you and wraps you in one last hug before she walks you back to the Red Bull garage, your hand in hers. You can already see and hear the celebrations and you hesitate for a brief moment. “You’ll be okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be fine. Thank you. I’ll see you later.” You squeeze her hand and she smiles gently before she disappears and you’re left to walk into the garage. It’s chaos in there and someone grabs you a tight hug, cheering loudly. When you look around, you catch Max’s gaze and the two of you stare at each other. He looks as if though he’s making a move towards you, but there’s too many people in the way and everyone is stopping to congratulate him. You mouth a congratulations to him, offering up a smile when you see his thank you, and you melt into the crowd.

—&.&—

You sigh quietly, turning to each side a few times as you watch your reflection in the mirror. You’re suddenly regretting your choice in dress and even going in the first place. But the buzz from your phone and the resulting text from Charles letting you know he was waiting for you downstairs has you reluctantly heading out the door.

“Hey, you look beautiful.” He smiles gently at you and wraps you in a tight hug. 

“Thank you. You don’t clean up bad yourself.”

“Something I found in the back of my closet.” A grin spreads across his face and you can’t help but laugh. Charles offers you a hand and you walk together to the car, where Alex gives you a smile and a wave from the front seat.

“That dress is lovely on you, you look gorgeous!” She beams, reaching over to squeeze your hand in lieu of a hug as you settle in the car.

“Thank you, you too.” You smile, but there’s a shakiness to your voice that has both of them giving you a sympathetic look as you start moving.

“You don’t have to go tonight, you know that right? It’s alright.” Charles says quietly, eyes moving to glance at you in the car. 

“I have to.”

“You don’t.”

“It’s not just about celebrating him. It’s about celebrating everyone, the team. I want to be there for everyone.” 

“Okay. We’ll be there if you need us. And if you want to leave, then tell us, okay?” Alex shoots Charles a sharp look before turning to you, smiling gently as she reaches over to squeeze your hand.

“Okay. Thank you.” 

The two of them draw you into conversation and laughter for the rest of the car ride. You know they’re trying to distract you, trying to keep your mind off of everything, and it almost works. But all of that goes away when you step into the venue and see  Max right by the entrance. His eyes immediately find yours and he’s walking towards you before you can even formulate a response in your head. You turn to see Charles and Alex have been caught talking to someone else and you’re alone when Max steps in front of you.

“Hi. I’m so glad you’re here.” He says softly, hovering in front of you. He’s slightly out of breath and his hand drifts to the back of his head again, rubbing slightly, but he stops when he catches your eye.

“Hey. Congratulations world champ,” Your voice wavers slightly and you step forward and wrap your arms around him. Your breath hitches when you feel him wrap his arms tightly around you, head buried in the crook of your neck. “I’m so proud of you.” 

“Thank you. I couldn’t have done it without you. Any of it.” He breathes quietly, lips right by your ear, hugging you close. You shut your eyes, trying to keep the tears at bay but tonight and what it could’ve been is bringing up waves of emotions you’d rather keep hidden. Taking in a deep breath, you step back from his arms, putting a few feet of distance between you.

“Yeah, you could’ve. You always had it in you.” 

“Thank you. You look beautiful tonight. I mean, you always do, but you look extra gorgeous tonight.”

“I, thanks Max. That’s very kind of you.”

“Thank you for coming tonight. I’m glad we can celebrate it together.” He says softly and you know from the look on his eyes that he also remembers every word you two had shared. That you’d be celebrating something else had you still been together. That it’d be the start of your new life together. 

“Always. I’ll, um, I’ll see you later, okay?” You cast a scan around you, seeing multiple people wanting to congratulate him and you take a few steps back.

“Yeah. I’ll find you.” Max smiles softly at you and you give him a small smile and a nod before melting away into the crowd, letting him accept his well-deserved accolades. You keep to yourself for most of the night, ducking in and out of conversations, and now you find yourself tucked in a corner, hand wrapped around a glass of water. You had long stopped drinking, the alcohol intensifying all the feelings you’d rather keep buried deep within you. Both Charles and Lando had convinced you to venture onto the dancefloor, but after a while, you had snuck off back to your corner. 

After a few hours, you tell Lando you’re leaving and after you assure him you’re okay and that you just want to sleep, he sends you off with a giant hug and multiple promises that you’ll text him when you’re back. 

The moment you’re back you strip off your make-up and get into pyjamas, curling up under the soft covers. In the darkness of the room, you’re left to your own thoughts and once again you can’t help but think about what tonight could’ve been in another lifetime. 

A few hours later, you’re still able to get to sleep, continue to toss and turn in the bed. You’re saved from the overwhelming thoughts in your head when you hear a quiet knock at your door. You debate not answering it, sure they’ve got the wrong door. But when the knock sounds again, more insistent this time, you reluctantly swing your legs out of bed and open to the door to find a slightly disheveled looking Max. 

“Hi.” 

“Max? What are you doing here?”

“Can I come in?” You blink, staring at him for a few seconds before you step back and he slips inside, the door shutting with a soft thud.

“Is everything okay?” 

“I… You left. I was looking for you and you weren’t there.”

“Yeah, I… Sorry, I was tired. I wanted to get to bed.”

“I missed you.”

“You’re drunk. Go back to your room.” You say softly, watching him carefully as he takes another step closer to you.

“I’m not. I stopped drinking hours ago,” He immediately responds, shaking his head vehemently. “I’m not drunk.”

“Okay. But it doesn’t explain what you’re doing here,” A soft sigh leaves your lips and you continue on when you realise how harsh it sounds. “You should be celebrating. Having fun.”

“It’s not the same without you. You should’ve been there by my side. Tonight… tonight should’ve been so different.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say to that. I…”

“I’m sorry. I know this isn’t fair to you. I just… I miss you.”

“I miss you too, Max.”

“Can I stay with you? Please.”

“Are you sure you want to?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you just won your third world championship, that you can get any girl you want. You don’t have to spend it with me.”

“I don’t want them, I don’t want any of them. I want you.”

“Max…”

“If you want to kick me out, then you can. But don’t think it’s because I want to be with some other girl. Because I don’t.”

“You’re… allowed to, you know? It’s okay.” You whisper softly but inside every part of you breaks at the thought of someone else loving him. Of him loving someone else.

“I want to be here. With you. If you want me.”

“Of course I want you here,” You say quietly and you let out a quiet exhale. “Come on, I’ve got some clothes you can probably sleep in.”

“Thank you.” Max watches you closely as you hand him an old shirt you both know are his and a pair of boxers you’ve been using as sleep shorts. He disappears into the bathroom and when he re-emerges, you’re already back under the covers. There’s hesitation in his movements when he’s at the edge of the bed and you reach out to grab onto his hand.

“It’s alright. Come on.”

“Okay.” He lets you tug him into bed and the moment you’re both under the covers, you’re already entangled together.

“I just want you to know I’m so proud of you.” You whisper quietly into the night, wrapped tightly in his arms. Your head is on his chest and one hand traces patterns into your upper arm ever so gently.

“I couldn’t have done any of this without you. Not just what you do with the team. But what you’ve done for me. To be by my side through it all. Thank you for everything.” 

“You’re welcome. I’m glad that I could be around to witness this.”

“I’m glad you were there too. It wouldn’t have been the same without you.” He pulls you closer into him and between his familiar hold and the soft, soothing touches on your skin, you’re asleep in minutes.

liked by maxverstappen, redbullracing, and others

yourusername max, im proud of you forever. congratulations on your third wdc, you deserve this so much and it’s been a pleasure to witness what you’ve done. thankful to the red bull family and very grateful to be a small part of a much bigger team and family x

tagged: maxverstappen, redbullracing

maxverstappen thank you for everything. you’re a much bigger part of this than you even realise, in so many different ways and i wouldn’t be able to do this without you. thank you for everything and for being you xxx

redbullracing what a season, let’s go!

user1 her saying forever but not following it up with and a day feels wrong… 

user2 god she’s still supportive of him and he acknowledges and loves it so much 

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—&.&—

December 2023

You collapse onto your sofa, leaving your bags by the front door, only bothering to grab your phone, keys, and wallet out. Flopping back on to a pillow, you drag a blanket over yourself, turning the television on. The screen immediately illuminates the dark room and you mindlessly choose a cheesy Christmas movie that pops up. 

It’s been a long week - you’ve driven from your place in Milton Keynes, to South Cambridgeshire to see your mum, step-dad and younger siblings, before heading to Norwich to see your dad, step-mother and your siblings there. In all honesty, you were meant to stay longer, to spend Christmas day with your dad, after spending the week with your mum. However, you had shortened your stay to only a few days at each house, claiming you weren’t feeling well and didn’t want to get anyone else sick. 

But the truth is, you weren’t in a festive mood and you didn’t feel like you truly belonged in either household. You loved your parents and you were lucky that both your step-parents were lovely people. You loved your younger siblings, them never failing to put a smile on your face. But the reality was they had started their lives again and you felt like an outsider looking in sometimes. 

You didn’t want to dampen anyone else’s festive spirit so you had driven back earlier, having to pull over several times due to the tears slipping down your face. It was your first time in several years not being with Max during the holidays and it had left you feeling impossibly lonely. 

You’re half an hour into your movie when there’s a knock at your door. You’re not expecting anyone and you’re wondering if you can ignore it, when a few more knocks ring out. Reluctantly, you sit up, abandoning the cocoon you’ve wrapped yourself in and head to the front door. Your eyes widen when it swings open to reveal Max, hands shoved in the pockets of his coat and his face lights up when he sees you.

“Max? What are you doing here?” Seeing him on the other side of your doorstep was the last sight you expected. “I… Do you want to come in?”

“Thanks.” He steps inside and you close the door behind him, watching as he hangs his coat up and removes his shoes.

“Um, can I get you a tea or anything like that?”

“Just some water will be fine, thanks.” He follows you quietly into the kitchen, eyes flitting around. It’s the first time he’s been here. But it’s not the first time he’s wondered what your flat is like. It keeps him up at night and when it’s not a race weekend, he worries about how you’re doing, living by yourself when he knows you hate it.

“Here,” You hand him a glass of water, shuffling from foot to foot before pouring one for yourself and you lead the way back into the living room and onto the sofa.

“Thank you.”

“So, um, is everything okay? What are you doing here?”

“I got the notifications you had been doing drives and then I saw you were back here. I knew you said you were going to stay with your dad until boxing day so I got worried. I wanted to see if you were okay.” 

“Yeah… I… I’m fine,” You forget that you had never removed each other from your live locations. There was little point in a way, you saw each other for most of the year when you travelled for races. “Wasn’t really feeling great so just decided to come ho -, come back here.” You shrug and you hope he doesn’t pick up on your slip but of course he does. Because it’s Max and he knows you.

“This place doesn’t feel like home yet?” His voice is soft, gentle, like he’s trying to reassure you. But as he looks around, he notices how the flat is void of personal touch, not like you had done with your place in Monaco. There are no photographs up and no form of decoration. As if though this is only temporary. He sees a few books scattered on your coffee table alongside a journal and pen but other than that the place seems empty. 

“It’s… it’s… I’m not really here enough with all the travelling, so it doesn’t really matter.”

“You still deserve a place that feels like home. That’s yours.”

“Only one place felt like home in a long time and now it’s… It’s not mine anymore.” You whisper quietly, the confession spilling out of you almost unwillingly and he gives a visible flinch. 

“You’re always welcome there, you know that right? It’s your home as much as mine.”

“That’s very kind of you but it’s not the same anymore and I think we both know that.” You offer him a soft smile, trying to ease his discomfort because the words weren’t meant to hurt him. 

“It will always be open to you. Always.”

“Thanks.” You say softly, looking away from him and into your lap. “Look, you don’t have to stay. I’m sure you had other plans in the UK.”

“I mostly came to see you. I wanted to check in on you.”

“I’m fine. Just tired. There’s been a lot of driving,” Max watches you carefully as you shrug, but he knows that you’ve never liked to drive all that much. Especially long distances and he wonders how you fared doing that many miles in such a short amount of time. “You really don’t have to stay. I’m okay.”

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” He says firmly, squeezing your hand gently and your heart stutters at the contact. “Now, what Christmas movie are we watching?”

You let out a slightly strangled laugh, handing him the remote as he gently teases you about the movie you have on, before you both settle on Home Alone, a movie you both love and watch every Christmas.

The both of you move into the kitchen, you set about making two mugs of hot chocolate while he rummages about in your cupboards for some snacks. You move about with a practised ease around each other, despite him never being in this flat before. When you two collapse on the sofa with a blanket thrown over both of you and you tucked into his side, it feels like things have never changed. 

When Max looks down at you barely an hour later, he smiles softly. You’re fast asleep, chest rising and falling evenly and you’re curled into his side, a blanket thrown over you. He sees the dark circles under your eyes and he wonders how many sleepless nights you’ve had in the months you’ve been broken up. Your sleep schedule has never been great, years of working all throughout the night the culprit. The constant travelling and being on the go also didn’t help, but the two of you had fallen into a routine together. 

If he had to guess, he would say you hadn’t been sleeping well at all. You had looked exhausted every time he’d seen you in the garage, in the offices, at races, a cup of coffee with you almost every time. He had also stumbled across you multiple times taking a nap during a break, hidden away in a back room. And every time he had put a blanket over you and closed the door, making sure everyone knew not to disturb you.

He watches you for a few more seconds before he shifts as gently as he can without disturbing you. He stands up and scoops you in his arms and you barely even stir. He carries you to your bedroom, settling you down before he tucks you in. Your room seems as empty as the rest of the flat - there are only two photos of you and your family, both tacked on the wall and something in him twists when he sees a framed photo of the two of you. It lies on top of a box in the corner, as if though you’ve unpacked it and left it there because you didn’t know what to do with it. He recognises it from Christmas last year, where you had spent it with his family. You’re wrapped in his arms beside a Christmas tree, snow falling in the window behind you. You’re both laughing, not even looking at the camera properly, eyes only on each other.  

“Max?” You stir from your slumber, rubbing your eyes a few times to clear your vision. You push yourself into a sitting position, eyes searching for him and they land on the picture he was staring at. He sees the lump in your throat as you swallow but both of you choose to ignore it.

“Hi, sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t. It’s okay.”

“Do you want to go back to sleep?”

“Yeah… I… Will you stay? Please?” Your voice is barely above a whisper and he sees the fear in your eyes that he’ll say no.

“Yeah, of course I’ll stay. Just sleep, I’ll be here.” Max says softly and presses his lips on top of your head. You let your eyes flutter close and you curl into him, head on his chest as his arm comes around you. He falls asleep soon after you , just as easily as you do, because having you by his side is so normal, is so second-nature, is so right. 

—&.&—

Morning comes and neither of you mention what occurred the night before, except a quiet thank you for staying, courtesy of you. But you go about making breakfast from what little you have in the kitchen after being away for a week and you eat it together as he updates you on his family and what he’s doing for Christmas. 

He tries to convince you to come with him, that you can’t spend Christmas alone. But you fend off his attempts, feeding him the same lie you’ve told your parents. That you’re not feeling well and you’d rather just get as much rest as you can before the season starts. He doesn’t pull you up on the lie and promises to send you updates. He tells you his nephews and niece miss you and that he’ll call you, so they can talk to you. 

Max reluctantly leaves your flat after wrapping you in a tight hug and the texts come through almost immediately after he’s out the door. He updates you on the drive to the airport, during the flight, and you know when he’s gotten home because suddenly selfies of his nephews and niece start coming through. You video call whilst you cook dinner and eat, and then the call is hijacked by three tiny children who are all clamouring to speak to you. Then at the end of the night, you fall asleep with him on the other end of the phone, a small smile on his face because he feels comforted that you’ll get a good night’s rest.

—&.&—

MV: merry christmas x

MV: i hope you have a wonderful day. take care of yourself x

YN: happy christmas to you too xx 

YN: give my love to everyone x

MV: they all pass on their love and say they miss you a lot xx

MV: i also miss you

YN: i miss you too 

MV: can i see you after christmas?

YN: you don’t have to come check up on me, i promise im ok

MV: im not, i promise. i just want to see you 

YN: you’re always welcome, wherever i am x

—&.&—

“Hi.” Max beams when he sees you on the other side of the door, eyes crinkling when you catch his gaze. You step back to let him in and when the door closes and he drops his bags on the floor, he wraps his arms tightly around you.

“Hi Max.” 

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” You breathe softly, burying your head in his chest. His lips brush the top of your head and you remain in his hold for a few more moments before reluctantly stepping back.

“Did you have a nice Christmas?” You fall in line as you walk towards the living room and when you settle onto the sofa, Max sits down and pulls you right beside him, one hand interlacing with yours.

“It was alright,” You shrug and you can see the frown on his face, but you continue so he can’t interject. “How about you? How is everyone?”

“They’re good. They all really miss you. Half my bags are full of presents and handmade cards all for you. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to get the glitter out.”

You burst out laughing when he reaches for a few neatly wrapped boxes that indeed does bring a shower of glitter with it, coating your floor. He grimaces slightly in apology but you wave him off with another laugh. The two of you spend the night opening the presents as he patiently explains everything the kids have made him promise to say and you end up on a call to them. They’re ecstatic when you show them that you’ve pinned their cards up and how much you love their presents. 

The two of you spend the rest of the night curled up on the couch, a movie playing softly in the background. And when you fall asleep within the same minutes in the same bed, you feel like this is right where you’re supposed to be. 

—&.&—

May 2024

f1gossip almost a year and a half after his break-up with long-time girlfriend and red bull strategist, max verstappen has been spotted on a date with model kelly piquet in monaco ahead of the miami grand prix in a week. she is the daughter of former f1 champion nelson piquet and shares a daughter with ex-f1 driver daniil kvyat. the couple were spotted grabbing dinner before going for a walk, holding hands and seemingly very close.

ASM: hi, we saw the news. im really sorry. are you okay? x

YN: no, not really. it’s been over a year but I’m just still not over him and i hate that i have to see him every day and be okay 

YN: and she’s so goddamn gorgeous its really hard not to be insecure

KG: im sorry. we love you so much

KG: you’re beautiful and smart and the kindest person i know 

LH: im so sorry lovely, we’re here for you. what do you need? 

RD: im in scotland for a shoot but im done tomorrow. im going to drop by for a few days before going to spain to see carlos x

YN: you really don’t have to do that, i dont want to be a bother

YN: ill see you guys in miami anyway x

RD: dont be silly, you are NOT a bother 

ASM: i can be there too just give me the dates

LH: me too x

KG: and meeee

YN: guys you really dont have to drop everything just for me

ASM: we’re not. youre our friend and we care about you and we love you

ASM: we know you’re going through a hard time. we want to be there for you x

RD: you show up for the people you care about and we care about you.  if we can all come to see you, we’re going to take that opportunity x

LH: plus girls night! xx

KG: GIRLS NIGHT!!

—&.&—

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yourusername forever grateful x

tagged: alexandrasaintmleux, iamrebeccad, lilymhe, fransisca.cgomes

alexandrasaintmleux love love love you to the moon and back x

iamrebeccad more girls nights in future my love x

↳ carlossainz55 and what am i??? 

↳ charlesleclerc a side piece, get used to it

lilymhe LOVE YOU THE MOSTEST FOREVER 

↳ alexalbon um, hello???

↳ charlesleclerc you should know the drill by now

charlesleclerc glad you had a wonderful night xx

↳ yourusername thanks charlie x

landonorris I DEMAND AN UNO REMATCH x

↳ yourusername time and place x

fransisca.cgomes yay for girls night!!! love you forever wifey xxx

↳ pierregasly you’re my girlfriend, you know that right? 

↳ charlesleclerc just accept its like this and move on mate

charlesleclerc where was my invitation 

↳ alexandrasaintmleux its called GIRLS night for a reason

user1 news of max’s new relationship drops and girls night? no way its a coincidence 

user2 this is so cute LET ME IN THE DOOR

user3 how do i be a part of this

user4 aww hope you guys had a lovely time!

user5 charles telling all the boys to get used to being second best in their girlfriends lives because he knows how much they love her 

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—&.&—

“Hi, can we talk?” You wince when you hear the voice behind you and you’re debating whether you can make a run for it but you decide you’d probably not make it very far before he caught up. Tightening your grip around your laptop and notebooks that are bundled in your arms, you slowly turn around to face Max. It’s the first time you’ve seen him since the news of him and Kelly surfaced and it hurts more than you expect. 

He looks slightly out of breath, and one hand moves to rub the back of his neck, something you know to be a nervous habit of his. When he notices you watching, he drops his hand back to his side, giving you a sheepish smile.

“Um, yeah, I guess, everything okay?” You fall into step as he leads the way to a small bench and you both take a seat. He clears his throat a few times as the silence ebbs between the two of you and you fixate your gaze on where his knee is bouncing up and down gently.

“Yeah. I just wanted to… I’m guessing you’ve seen the articles and I wanted to say I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you in private first but… well clearly the media outlets beat me to it.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for, Max.”

“I still care about you, I still love you. I just don’t want to hurt you.”

“That’s sweet of you, but you don’t owe me anything. We broke up… You’re allowed to be in a new relationship.”

“I know… I… I know when we broke up I said I wasn’t in the right place for a relationship anymore and I wasn’t. Not then. But now, I am and I just don’t want to hurt you. It’s nothing to do with you or what we were. I…”

“Max, it’s fine. You don’t have to explain yourself,” You offer him a soft smile, trying to ignore the tightening in your chest. Because that’s all that’s been going through your brain since you’ve seen the news. That he wasn’t in the right headspace for a relationship, with you. That it was your problem and you were the issue. It had kept you up for hours last night until you had finally dragged yourself out of bed and to work in the wee hours of the morning. “I… we’re fine.”

“It still should have come from me. You shouldn’t have to have found out from the Internet.”

“You don’t owe me an explanation.”

“I do. I owe you a lot. This should have been something you heard from me, not someone else, and certainly not some online gossip trail.”

“Well, thanks, you know, the thought was there. I appreciate it.” You smile gently, shrugging your shoulders as you sweep your gaze over him. “It’s not your fault it got leaked. These things happen.”

“I hope you know that I’ll always care about you. That… us breaking up wasn’t ever about you not being enough, or anything silly like that. Because I know how your brain works. I just… I genuinely didn’t think I was in the right headspace to continue to be in a relationship… And I… I still love you and I still care about you. A lot.”

“I know. Me too, Max.” You try to keep the smile on your face but you know it’s wavering. His words, meant to be comforting, instead hit you like a ton of bricks. You know the cause of your breakup wasn’t due to a lack of love. Which made it all the more difficult. 

“I saw some of the girls came over to see you.”

“Um, yeah, yeah. We’re still friends, I…”

“Of course, sorry. I’m not trying to say you can’t still be friends with them. I’m glad you’re still friends and they can be there for you.”

“Yeah. I’m very lucky to have them… Look, um, I should go. Got lots of data to crunch so we can get you a win this weekend.”

“Okay, yeah, alright. Don’t work yourself too hard. Remember to drink enough water and eat.” He gives you a soft smile, knowing of your tendencies to be so invested in your work you forget to look after yourself.

“I’ll do my best. See you later Max.” You offer him a smile and a wave before walking off. Max watches you go, your head already buried in one of your notebooks. You always had a habit of reading on the go and the amount of times he had to pull you out of the way of something or someone were countless. A slight twinge pulls at his heart but he doesn’t have the courage to call after you and all he can do is watch you walk off.

—&.&—

“You’re here early.” Your head snaps up at the familiar voice and you meet the gaze of Max. He’s dressed in Red Bull gear, a travel mug in one hand, and his eyes sweep over you in concern.

“So are you.” 

“Early morning meeting. You?”

“Couldn’t sleep so I went for my run and gym, and then came here.” 

“Did you eat breakfast?” A frown settles on his face and he slips into the seat in front of you.

“No, don’t really get hungry after a workout. You know that.”

“Did you eat enough dinner last night?”

“I was working late so had some toast and then a bunch of fruit.”

“That’s not dinner.”

“I wasn’t that hungry and I didn’t want to have a big meal that late. It’s fine.” 

“It’s not fine. You have got to start taking care of yourself.”

“And what if I don’t want to?”

“What does that even mean? What are you trying to say?” Panic replaces the previous disapproval in his tone and he grabs onto one of your hands, tugging until you look at him.

“Nothing, it was a stupid comment. I’m fine, I’m just tired. We’ve been pulling a lot of late nights.”

“You say the words I’m fine so many times they don’t even sound like fucking words anymore,” His sharp tone and vulgarity cause you to wince and his face softens, grip tightening on yours. “I’m just worried about you. 

“It’s just been busy. You know better than anyone how crazy it all gets. I’m okay.”

“Have dinner with me.”

“Sorry, what?”

“Let me take you to dinner when we’re both done at the track.”

“Max, you really don’t need to that -”

“I want to.”

“Max -“

“You know I’m not going to leave until you say yes.”

“You have to be up early tomorrow to be here. We both do.”

“Right, so you better say yes quickly so we can both go back to work and then can leave for dinner sooner.”

“Max…”

“I’m not going to budge, you know that. So, we can do this the easy way, where you say yes. Or we can do this the hard way, where I won’t leave you alone and I’ll physically pick you up and drag you if I need to.”

“Okay, yeah, fine. That sounds… Really lovely.”

“Great. I’ll see you at the end of the day.” Max smiles widely at you, giving your hand one last squeeze before he stands up.

“See you later.” You echo quietly, watching as he heads down the hallway and disappears. 

True to his word, he turns up at the end of the work day and he waits quietly, even as you finish off the work you’re doing and try to drag it out. Eventually, you have to admit you’re done and you slowly pack up your belongings. Max patiently waits for you, not speaking, not fiddling on his phone, just watching. Fifteen minutes later, you find yourself sitting opposite him, at a small family owned restaurant you two used to frequent. The couple who own it immediately wrap the two of you in a hug when they see you, talking about how long it’s been and sit you down at your favourite table.

“Does it not taste good? Do you want to order something else?” Max frowns at the sight of you pushing your food around the plate, taking small mouthfuls here and there.

“No, it’s delicious. I’m just not that hungry.” 

“You had what could barely count as dinner last night, went for a run and to the gym this morning and didn’t have breakfast after. I’m guessing you barely had lunch considering I’ve seen you do nothing but run around and work. There’s no way you’re not hungry.”

“I’m just… not. Okay?” You let out a quiet sigh, dropping your fork and looking at him. “I’ll take it back with me and eat it for lunch tomorrow.”

“Except you won’t eat it tomorrow,” He says flatly, staring at you, a challenge in his eyes. As if daring you to argue with him. “Just… try a few more bites, okay? Please.”

“I’m just not that hungry.” You mumble quietly, looking down at your food but you spear a bit onto your fork regardless and chew it slowly. When you finally swallow it, you mindlessly push things around for a few minutes before taking another small bite.

“So, how are you doing?”

“Max… Please let’s, just… not.” You let out a quiet sigh, looking up from your food to meet his gaze. You were exhausted, having barely slept last night and being alone with Max was putting you on edge.

“I’m just worried about you.”

“I’m -“

“If you’re going to say you’re fine, don’t even bother. I know you. I know you’re not doing okay.”

“What do you want me to say Max? That seeing you with your new girlfriend doesn’t hurt? That having to be around you doesn’t hurt?”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s… Whatever. It’s not your fault,” You mumble softly before pushing your bowl away forcefully. “I’m done, I’m not hungry.” 

“Come on -“

“No. I said I’m not hungry, okay? Now do you want to finish it or shall I ask for a takeaway container?” Your tone is more sharp, with a bite to it that has Max surveying you before swapping your plates with a quiet sigh. But he shoves a few bites onto the plate in front of you and he stares at you until you pick up your fork, pushing the food around before taking small bites.

“I’m still… me. We’re still us. I’m still always going to be here for you.”

“Yeah,” You blink at him a few times and then look down at your plate. You know he truly means it but you also know that everything has changed and that nothing will ever go back to the way it was. “If you’re done eating, can we please go? I have an early start tomorrow.”

“You don’t even want your favourite dessert from here?”

“No, I’m okay. Thank you.” You say quietly and Max meets your gaze, eyes searching you closely and when he knows you're not going to budge, a quiet sigh leaves his lips and he nods.  

“Okay, yeah. We can go,” He settles up the bill and you follow him silently to the car. You don’t miss the small paper bag he holds onto and when he walks you to your door, he presses it into your hands. “Just… Take it okay? You deserve it.”

“I… Thank you. Thank you for taking me to dinner - it was really nice.”

“You’re welcome.” 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah. Definitely. Good night, sleep well.”

“Night,” You reply softly, watching as he gives you a soft, sad smile. “Max?”

“Yeah?”

“Drive safe. Text me when you’re back, okay?”

“I will. Bye,” He lingers, before stepping closer again and pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Thank you for looking out for me.”

“Always.” You give him a final wave and you watch as he walks back to his car and he’s still for a few minutes, head resting against the steering wheel. The car eventually starts and you watch him drive off until you no longer see the tail lights. Only then do you make your way into the kitchen and open the paper bag. You’re not surprised at what you find inside - you almost always got the same dessert when you two visited that restaurant and so you slowly start eating it with a slightly heavy heart and memories swirling in your head.

—&.&—

May 2024

You knew she was going to be here, you had tried to prepare yourself but you were stupid to think you could ever be okay seeing Max with his new girlfriend. You turned on your heel before he could spot you, heading back to your workstation as quickly as you could. 

You’re not beyond admitting you had stalked her the moment the news had come out and it had caused all your insecurities to surface. She was gorgeous - a model, and exactly the type of girl that people expected to be the partner of a Formula 1 driver. You couldn’t help the spiral you had gone on, scrolling and scrolling until the thoughts consumed your brain. And now seeing her in person made everything worse.

CL: where are you?? i thought we were meeting outside red bull garage and getting lunch?? 

CL: lando and i are here 

YN: we are 

YN: sorry 

YN: im just… stuck

CL: you’re stuck?? what do you mean? are you okay?

YN: stuck because max is in my direct line of path with kelly and i can’t do it

CL: you can x

CL: do you want me to come in to get you?

CL: lando says he will make a scene to distract everyone and then you can sneak out x

YN: no it’s fine, gimme a minute 

You take a deep breath before releasing it, clutching your phone in one hand and you peek your head out from around the corner again. Max and Kelly are still right in your path, the only path towards the exit and you duck back around, back flat against the wall. You’re internally cursing yourself, there’s no way this needs to be so difficult and a frustrated huff leaves your lips.

“Stop being an idiot.” You mutter quietly and you take one more breath before you stride out towards the entrance. You wave and greet a few of your coworkers, smiling at them as everyone mills about. You start to walk towards the entrance, eyes fixated on where you can see the figures dressed in red and papaya, and you almost make it when you hear your name.

“Hey.” Max calls after you in a soft tone and you curse in your head before turning around. Of course you couldn’t get by without him spotting you, because he seems to have a knack for knowing where you are no matter what. 

“Hi. You alright?” You plaster a smile onto your face, one you know doesn’t fool him based on the slightly frown on his face, but you turn away from him and towards the woman by his side. “Hi, you must be Kelly. It’s nice to meet you.” 

“Yes, you too. Max has nothing but good things to say about you.” She smiles warmly at you, wrapping you a quick hug, with nothing but honesty and genuine kindness in her tone. You almost wish she wasn’t because it’d make it so much easier to dislike her. But you can’t. 

“Oh, I’m sure he’s just being kind.” You turn to him with a quiet laugh and he just gives you a shrug and a lopsided smile.

“Only telling the truth.”

“Are you enjoying the weekend so far?”

“Yeah, it’s been very fun. I’m glad I could make it. It must be busy for you.”

“Oh, yeah, race weekends are always hectic. I always feel like I’m running around like a headless chicken,” I let out a quiet laugh as they join in. “Probably look like one too.”

“You always do an amazing job. Always.” Max interjects quietly, eyes fixated on you and you fight the urge to fidget under his scrutinising look.

“Thank you. It’s not just me though, a small part of a very big team… I, um, I’ve got to go, though. I’m really sorry. Charles and Lando are waiting for me so we can go to lunch,” You take a tiny step back, raising your hand in a wave. “It was really nice to meet you. I’ll see you guys later.”

“It was nice to meet you too.” Kelly smiles at you, a large, genuine one that eats away at you. 

“I’ll see you later, yeah?” Max asks quietly, hesitation in his voice as his eyes sweep over your face.

“Yeah. Definitely. Bye.” You give them both a wave before letting your feet carry you towards the entrance, where the figures of Charles and Lando are getting closer. They’re talking in quiet tones but they fall silent and turn to you as you walk up to them.

“You alright?” Charles asks softly, nudging you gently with this shoulder. 

“Yeah. Not as bad as I thought, but doesn’t mean it doesn’t fucking hurt.” You let out a strangled laugh, sneaking one look over your shoulder at the couple, only to find Max already staring at you, a faraway look in his eyes. You quickly turn back around, face flushing and Charles and Lando are both kind enough to not say anything. 

“Hey, let’s go get some food, okay?” Lando smiles gently at you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and leading you away from the Red Bull garage. The two of them distract you with chatter and jokes that make you roll your eyes and clutch your stomach with laughter. It’s almost enough to make you forget seeing Max and his new girlfriend. Almost. 

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yourusername thanks for always being my second home monaco, ive missed you. charlie, congratulations on winning your home race, words cant explain how proud i am of you, feeling very lucky to be your best friend xx good work from the team and as always, upwards and onwards.

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charlesleclerc you’re the best, always grateful for you and your support. you’re the greatest friend. you’ll always have a home in monaco xx

↳ yourusername love love love you x

landonorris always got a room at mine, monaco misses you too x

↳ yourusername thanks lan, love you xx

redbullracing 💪🏼💪🏼💪🏼

alexandrasaintmleux move back, we can live together with leo and get another dog

↳ charlesleclerc excuse me?? you’re MY girlfriend and that’s MY dog ?? 

↳ yourusername maybe one day ill move back, just not now x 

↳ fransisca.cgomes you could come live with me 😘

user1 her still calling monaco a second home when she’s obviously moved away since the breakup but she clearly loves it there 😭

user2 we love you 💓

—&.&—

You sit in a booth at the back of Jimmy’z, doing your best to stay hidden. You’re by yourself now, Alex, Kika, and Rebecca unsuccessful at dragging you onto the dancefloor. Your eyes flicker over the scene, you can see the girls dancing around and laughing, smiles etched onto their faces. Some of the drivers are by the bar, ordering more drinks and the room is filled with people, music and lights flashing across the space. 

You’re doing your very best to not look for Max who you know is somewhere in the club. You had greeted him when you had first arrived, trying not to let the sight of Kelly by his side shake you. But you had spent the next fifteen minutes after that in the bathroom trying to collect yourself. Seeing him with someone new is something you don’t think you’ll ever get used to.

“Hey, you alright?” You look up to see Max slipping into the booth next to you and it takes everything in you to not burst into tears. The images of him kissing Kelly when he got out of the car still run through your brain and seeing them at the club together had been another blow. You also knew the amount of alcohol you had wasn’t helping, you had never been a huge drinker but you were hoping it would help dull the feelings, make you forget. However, all it had done was make you even more sad, the emotions rising and crashing over you. 

“Fine. You?” You give him your best attempt at a smile and a shrug, but it doesn’t fool either of you. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Please just drop it, I really can’t do this right now Max.” The words come out of you in a whisper and you drop your face into your hands when you feel the tears rising. You hear and feel him shifting about and when you look up again, he’s in front of you, blocking you from the view of anyone behind him.

“Do you want me to take you back?” He asks quietly, eyes scanning over you carefully.

“It’s fine. You’re having a nice time and you can’t just leave Kelly here.” 

“She went home already. And even if she was still here, she’d understand I would want to get you back safely.” It’s the first sentence that gets you, because you realise that home probably means his place and that alone makes more tears fall down your face.

“Please, please, let me help. I just want you to be okay.”

“There’s nothing you can do, it’s fine. I’ve just been drinking and I’m just tired, it’s been a long weekend.”

”Then let me take you back.”

“It’s not your job to take care of me anymore.”

“So, what does that mean? I can’t care about you anymore?”

“It means… It means we’re not in a relationship anymore and that you have a new girlfriend. It means you can’t come and cater to my every whim. It means… I’m by myself and I have myself to rely on.” 

“You will always have me. I will always pick up your call. Always. Don’t you ever think otherwise.” 

“That’s not the point. The point is that we aren’t together anymore and I shouldn’t be coming to you for everything. I, just, I don’t know what you want from me. I don’t want to get in the way in your new relationship.” You swallow hard, some of the harsher comments on the internet you’ve seen floating around swirling in your head.

“You shouldn’t be reading any of that. You know that. You know it's bullshit.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“Let me take you back.”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry. Look, just… Have a nice night, Max. I’ll… I’ll text you when I’m back, okay?” You use the back of your hand to wipe away the tears as you stand up and move away from the booth. You don’t stick around to hear what he has to say and you’re heading towards the entrance when you walk straight into someone.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” Lando grabs onto your hand, eyes widening when he sees the tears in your eyes. He tugs you closer to him, offering you a tissue before wrapping an arm around you. 

“Even if I said yes, would you believe me?”

“Probably not, sorry.” He gives you an apologetic smile and you let out a sound that’s halfway between a laugh and a sob.

“I didn’t think it’d be this hard, you know? But I also never saw us apart, so what do I know?” 

“I’m sorry. I wish I could help. I wish there was something I could do.”

“It’s fine. Thank you for being my friend and being there for me.” You give him a shaky smile and he tightens his grip around you, pulling you into his embrace.

“Hey, anytime baby bull. You know that.”

“I’m just… I’m going to go. I really just want to be in bed.”

“Okay. Okay, that’s fine. Let me walk you out.” You can see him scan your face carefully and he can clearly see that you’ve made up your mind. 

“You don’t have to do that, Lan. You should be enjoying your night.”

“I want to.” 

“Okay, thank you. I’d really like that.”

“Come on then.” Lando gives you a smile and nudges you gently as the two of you walk out, before his arm wraps around your shoulders holding you close to him. Meanwhile, Max is staring at you, watching you fall apart and it breaks him in a way he can’t explain.

—&.&—

f1gossip red bull strategist and former long term girlfriend of max verstappen was seen leaving jimmy’z in tears. drivers and loved ones were seen entering the exclusive nightclub after the monaco grand prix. inside sources say it was her first time seeing her former partner verstappen and his new partner together. she was with verstappen’s fellow driver lando norris with whom she remains close friends. click the link in our bio to learn more and see the exclusive photos.

user1 christ leave her alone! 

user2 jesus how would YOU react if you had to see your ex be with someone new? they were together for years!! people taking photos and submitting them online is low

user3 oh that’s heartbreaking, i can’t even imagine what she’s going through 

user4 it’s a break up get over it she just wants the attention

user5 i cant believe fans took photos and posted them online…

user6 she has to work with her ex bf and now see him with his new gf? poor girl 

—&.&—

August 2024

“Hi baby bull, you look gorgeous.” Lando smiles at you, wrapping you in a hug before giving you a kiss on the cheek. “Come on, give us a spin.”

“Lan,” You let out a laugh, but you let him take your hand and spin you around, the skirt of your dress fanning out around you as you do so. He gives you a smile and a wink as you turn back to face him and he steadies you with a reassuring hand on your waist.

“See? Beautiful.”

“Thank you, Lando. That’s very kind of you. And thank you for coming with me, I really appreciate it.” 

“Hey, any excuse to have a gorgeous girl on my arm.” He grins as you blush again, slapping him on the shoulder gently. You’re used to his antics - he’s always been charming and sweet and you wish you possessed even an ounce of his charisma.

”Stop,” You roll your eyes at him, sticking your tongue out at him but he only laughs, offering you his arm and you take it gratefully, linking your arm through his. “So naturally charming. How is it you don’t have a girlfriend?” 

“Because I only have eyes for you.”

”Alright, alright, settle down.” You shake your head at him but there’s a smile on your face. You and Lando have been friends for years now. He knows when to tease you to put a smile on your face and when you just need a hug and someone to talk to.

“You do look beautiful though. I’m very honoured to have you on my arm tonight.”

“Thanks Lando.” You give him a soft smile and lean into him, giving him a side hug. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, squeezing tightly.

“Anytime baby bull. I’m always going to be here for you.”

“I’m very lucky to have you as a friend.” You rise up on your tip-toes to give him a kiss on the cheek before stepping inside the car and he closes the door behind you before getting in the other side.

“Hey, it’s going to be a fun night. We’ll have a drink, a small boogie, and then we can go anytime you want.” Lando whispers softly, reaching for your hand and squeezing it gently. 

“Yeah.” You turn to him with a shaky smile. He sings along to the songs on the radio in a loud, exaggerated voice, making you giggle and eventually you find yourself singing along.  

It’s not until you get inside the venue for the wedding reception that the nerves start again. You come to a sudden stop by the entrance, tugging back on Lando’s hand causing him to turn back to you. When he sees the expression on your face and your sudden stillness he steps back towards you.

“Hey, you alright?”

“Yeah, I just, I…” You trail off when you see Max and Kelly over his shoulder and at your sharp intake of breath, he follows your gaze. Max has immediately clocked you and raises his hand in greeting and is already making his way towards you.

“Hey, breathe, you got this. And I’m right here.” He whispers softly, giving you a reassuring pat on the back. You give him a weak smile and you take a tiny step back into his arms. You can feel the panic rising in you as Max and Kelly come closer, and before you know it, they’re standing right in front of you. 

“Hi, you look lovely.” Max says softly, stepping forward and wrapping you in a hug, lips brushing the side of your cheek. He lingers there for a few seconds before stepping back.

“Thank you.” You clear your throat, taking another tiny step back, bumping into Lando on your way and he puts a reassuring hand in the small of your back.

“Hey, mate. How are you? Good to see you.” Max turns to Lando and the two slap hands, patting each other on the back.

“Hi, you look beautiful. I love your dress.” You smile, almost shyly, at Kelly. In truth, she intimidates you a little. She’s older, more mature. She’s beautiful. She carries herself with a grace and elegance you wish you possessed even an ounce of. She’s never been anything but kind to you, never holding your previous relationship with Max against you. You wish you could have a reason to dislike her. But you don't. 

“Thank you. You look stunning too. You really suit that colour.” 

“That’s very kind of you, thank you.” A quiet breath leaves your lips as you smile, crowding closer to Lando as you feel Max’s gaze flicker over you. You haven’t seen him since Spa and seeing him now, at an event you were supposed to attend together, hurts you deeply.

“Can I tempt you for a spin on the dance floor?” Max asks softly, offering you a hand and you stare at it for a few seconds before taking it hesitantly. There’s already a small crowd dancing to the music that’s coming from the live band.

“Yes, sure. That would be lovely.” 

“How about we go get a drink then?” Lando turns to Kelly with a smile on his face after giving me a soft pat on the back.

“Sure, that sounds great.” She gives us both a smile before her and Lando walk off, conversation flowing easily between the two of them. You stare after them for a few moments before a gentle tugging on your hand turns your attention back to Max. 

“Shall we?” 

“Okay.” You let him lead you into the middle of the dance floor and he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you in and when you hesitantly wind your arms around his neck, his other hand settles on your waist as well. You avoid looking directly at him, your heart skipping erratically at his familiar touch around your waist. 

“You really do look beautiful. You always do.”

“Thank you.” You say softly, your gaze fixated on his bowtie. It’s the exact same shade of blue as the dress you left hanging on the back of the spare bedroom in Lando’s home. It’s another reminder that you were supposed to be here with him. That you made plans that had stretched months, years, into the future. Now all of that was in the past.

You avoid eye contact the entire dance, mostly silence stretching between the two of you as you let yourself be swept across the dance floor. You let yourself imagine what this moment could’ve been like in another universe and you hold onto that until the song ends.

“Still a wonderful dancer I see.” Max says quietly, giving you a small smile when you finally turn to meet his gaze. You let your arms drop back to your sides and you keep a small gap between the two of you as you make your way back towards Kelly and Lando. 

“And you.”

“I suppose I had a good teacher,” He chuckles quietly, almost to himself as you reach the table where the others have settled themselves. “Thank you for the dance.”

“You’re welcome.” 

“Hey, looking very flash out there. You’ll have to teach me a thing or two later.” Lando smiles at you and you settle close to his side again, craving his comforting presence. 

“Sure.” You give him a small smile and you settle into a conversation, soon interrupted when you see the bride and groom. There are hugs and compliments and congratulations exchanged. The rest of the night is a whirlwind of music and laughter. Lando does this best to make you at ease, make you feel comfortable and to just enjoy the night. You really do enjoy the night for the most part, but you can’t ignore the small twinge in your heart every time you catch a glimpse of Max.

—&.&—

You press the doorbell, shifting from foot to foot as you stand in front of Max’s door. You’re still in your dress from the wedding, except you’re drenched from the rain and the wetness on your cheeks is a mixture of tears and the weather. There seems to be no answer, and you’re already turning away, convinced you’ve made a terrible mistake when the door opens. Max is staring at you with wide eyes, but there’s concern all over his face.

“What happened? Are you okay?” Max demands, but you act like you haven’t even heard him, a faraway look in your tear-filled eyes. “How did you get here?”

“I walked.”

“You walked? In the rain?! Are you crazy -”

“Hey, who was at the door - oh goodness, Max, why haven’t you asked her inside?” Kelly stops short when she sees the two of you, cutting off the rest of his sentence. She shoots him an exasperated look before reaching past him and guiding you inside gently. “Oh, you’re freezing. Let’s get you into the shower and into some warm clothing.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m here… I, I… I’ll leave.” You make a move to turn around but this time it’s Max who grabs onto your arm. 

“No. You can’t leave like this, you’ll get sick.” 

“Why don’t I make some tea for us while you get warm and dry? Max?” Kelly smiles at you gently before placing a hand on Max’s shoulder, who seems to jolt to attention. 

“You need to get in the shower or you’re going to get sick.” He says firmly, placing a hand in the small of your back and guides you upstairs. Your feet automatically take you to the guest bedroom and into the bathroom where you stare blankly at the wall. “Hey. Will you be okay to take a shower? I’ll leave some clothes for you on the bed, okay?”

“Um, yeah, okay. Thank you.” You mumble quietly, blinking at him and he casts you a worried look before closing the door behind him. It takes you another minute or so to snap back to attention, stripping off your soaking wet dress and into the shower. You spend the next few minutes letting the hot water scald your skin, scrubbing at your face as if that would help with your red-rimmed eyes.

When you’re dressed, you stare around the guest bedroom for a while. It’s mostly the same as it used to be, but there are subtle differences. The duvet cover is one you haven’t seen before. The vase on the dresser that is home to a fresh bouquet of beautiful pale pink peonies is new. As is the crocheted blanket that lies at the foot of the bed. You turn away and head towards the door, no longer able to look at the reminders of how this is no longer your home.

“Hey, are you feeling better?” Max shoots to his feet when you appear in the living room and is by your side in an instant. “Warm?”

“Yeah, fine. Thank you.” Your voice is slightly scratchy and you hover in your spot, not sure what to do. Max leads you gently towards the sofa and settles you in the corner spot. Your favourite spot. The fluffy blanket that he gently places over you is also new, you realise.

“I have some tea.” Your small inner spiral is interrupted when Kelly hands you both a steaming mug of tea and you take it gratefully.

“Thank you. I’m sorry for ruining your night, I -” 

“It’s alright, you didn’t. How about I let you two have a chat?” Kelly gives you a genuine smile, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder and squeezing Max’s hand, before disappearing from the living room.

“I’m sorry,” You repeat quietly, looking down at where your hands were wringing themselves together. “I didn’t meant to ruin your night -“

“You didn’t. It’s fine. I’m glad you’re safe.”

“It was only like a five minute walk.”

“And it’s raining outside.” 

“Really? Didn’t notice.” You say wryly, managing to crack a small smile and Max chuckles quietly.

“Sarcastic as ever I see,” He shakes his head, fighting the grin on his face, because you joking around is a good sign. “Do you want to talk about anything?”

“I just… I… You know, we were supposed to go together and that’s all I could think about.” You say softly, wrapping your arms around yourself as tears form again. Your hair is still damp, hanging down your back, and you look so vulnerable that Max wants nothing more than to wrap you in his arms and hold you tightly. 

“I’m sorry.” Max whispers, because there’s nothing else he can say or do to make you feel better. 

“You’ve moved on and I’m so happy for you. You deserve all the love in the world. But I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Everything reminds me of you. Everything in my life has you in it. Everything.”

“I’m sorry.” His voice is hoarse as he repeats the apology. His heart is breaking seeing you in this state, especially when he’s the cause of it. 

“I just don’t know what to do.” You continue as if you didn’t hear him and he sees you swallow hard before meeting his gaze with teary eyes. “I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry.” Max doesn’t know what else to say. He doesn’t know what to do when you’re breaking down in front of him and he’s the cause of all your pain.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come like this. It’s not fair for me to come here and say what I said… I… I’m going to leave.” You exhale after a long silence, giving him the best smile you can muster. Max wants to argue with you, insist that you can’t just leave but he knows you’ve made up your mind.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for. Look… I.... I’ll give you a lift back to Lando’s.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Well, I’m not taking no for an answer. So, come on.” He offers you a hand and leads you to his car. You spend the short car ride in silence, only the soft music from the speakers breaking the silence. When you arrive, he kills the engine and the two of you continue to sit in silence before you clear your throat.

“Thank you.”

“Come on. I’ll walk you in.” Max says softly, opening your car door and offering you a hand. You take it silently and let him lead you to the front door. He knocks quietly and it doesn’t take long for it to swing open, Lando on the other side, looking comfortable in some joggers and a hoodie. 

“What? Are you okay? When did you leave? I thought you were asleep.” Lando’s eyes widen in shock when he sees you on the doorstep with Max behind you and he immediately steps back to let the two of you in. 

“I went for a walk.” You say softly, your voice scratchy as you stand between the two boys, not looking at either one of them. 

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Just want to get into bed.”

“Okay. Why don’t you head in and I’ll come by with a cup of tea in a bit, okay?” Lando gives you a soft smile, placing a hand in the small of your back and the touch is comforting and you welcome it, taking a step closer to him. 

“Okay,” You do your best to offer him a smile and he responds by squeezing your shoulder gently. “Um, thank you again, Max. And Kelly too. I’m sorry for ruining your night, both of your nights. Tell her I’m really sorry and I really appreciate… Just everything.”

“Don’t be silly. You didn’t ruin anything. You can come to me any time you need.”

“Thank you.” You give him a small smile before backing away slightly, turning to face Lando. “I’ll be, um, I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Yeah, I’ll be in soon.” He squeezes your hand before you turn your back and disappear from sight. You can hear the quiet murmurs from the two boys, but can’t make out what they’re saying. Lando doesn’t take long to appear in the living room where you’re already buried under a fluffy blanket. 

“Hi.”

“Hey. Do you want a hug?” Lando asks gently, taking a seat next to you. When you nod silently, he wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you into him, squeezing tightly. 

“I’m sorry.” You mumble against his chest, feeling the tears start to fall again.

“Why are you sorry?”

“Because I’m a mess. I have been since the breakup. And all I do is cause trouble and you guys have to constantly look after me and look out for me and -”

“We do that because you’re our friend. You’re family. You always have been and you always will be. We all care about you,” Lando says firmly, cutting off your words and he tightens his grip around you. “You are allowed to grieve and process your breakup however you need or want.”

“I love you, Lan.”

“I love you, baby bull.” He presses a kiss against the side of your head and squeezes you one last time. “Now, come on, what movie shall we watch?” 

You let out a quiet laugh, pulling the blanket tighter around you as you go back and forth on movie suggestions before you both settle on one. You don’t make it to the end of the movie, falling asleep halfway through. Lando just turns off the television and lifts you gently into his arms, settling you into the guest bedroom. You don’t even stir and he closes the door quietly behind him, letting you sleep.

[dracoflaco]

mi favoritaaa

labyrinth - fc43

summary: as the only female driver on the grid, everything in yn's life was planned like a perfect qualifying lap. then franco colapinto had to show up. first, he was just that annoying new guy who took her best friend's seat. then he became the driver she absolutely couldn't stand (or at least that's what she kept telling herself) word count: over 13k + social media posts

folkie radio: GUYYYYSSS SHE'S HERE! i started writing this fic in september and it's finally her time to shine!! this is my first time writing driver!reader so please be gentle with me. also, HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! may all of your wishes come true

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris and 1,027,537 others

yourinstagram p6 in zandvoort ! happy to see max on the podium for his home race. see you soon monza 🇮🇹

view all comments

username1 LEGEND

username2 p6 with that tractor feels like a podium finish fr

username3 give your seat to danny already

oscarpiastri Well done stinks 👊

↳ logansargeant Don’t praise her, her ego gets inflated

↳ username2 BEST TRIO ON THE GRID

↳ yourinstagram you’re both so jealous of me

redbullracing Keep pushing ! 💙

↳ username1 FIX HER FUCKING CAR

username4 p6 in a redbull? just hand the seat to someone more deserving

francolapinto Amazing 🙌🙌

↳ username2 franco is such a fannn

danielricciardo Proud of you 👌👌

↳ username1 haters want to create this beef between yn and danny for the seat but him adores her

maxverstappen1 Look she’s a nice teammate

↳ yourinstagram you adore me 😤

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

A knot forms in your stomach as you read the messages. Something about the tone doesn't sit right with you. You quickly head towards Logan's motorhome, your mind racing and your axiety creeping in.

When you arrive, Oscar is already there, leaning against the wall with a concerned expression. Logan sits on the couch, his shoulders slumped and his gaze fixed on the floor.

"Logan?" you ask softly, stepping into the room. "What's going on?"

He looks up at you, then at Oscar, his eyes filled with a mix of anger and resignation. "I… I'm not coming back for the next race," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

You feel like you've been punched in the gut. Deep down, a part of you had known this was coming. Rumors in the paddock spread faster than a Formula 1 car on a straight, and there had been whispers about Logan's seat for weeks. But you hadn't wanted to believe it. You'd pushed those thoughts aside, convinced that if you just ignored them, they wouldn't come true.

"What? What do you mean you're not coming back?"

Oscar pushes off the wall, his brow furrowed. "Mate, what happened?"

Logan takes a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. "Williams… they're replacing me. I'm out."

The room falls silent for a moment as the news sinks in. Then, all at once, you feel a surge of anger coursing through your veins.

"They can't do that!" you exclaim, your voice rising. "It's mid-season! You've been improving, you've been working so hard. How can they just… just throw you away like this?"

Logan shrugs, a bitter smile on his face. "Apparently, they can. And they have."

A wave of emotions come crashing to you. Anger at Williams for their decision, frustration at the ruthless nature of the sport, and an overwhelming sadness for Logan.

Oscar moves to sit beside Logan, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I'm so sorry, mate. This is bullshit."

You start pacing the room, your anger building with each step. "Who are they replacing you with? Some pay driver? Some rookie who's never even touched an F1 car?"

"Franco Colapinto," Logan says quietly.

You stop in your tracks, whirling to face him. "Colapinto? The F2 kid? Are they out of their minds?"

Oscar tries to interject, his voice calm. "YN, maybe we should-"

But you're too fired up to listen. "No, Oscar! This is wrong. It's so wrong. Logan deserves better than this. He deserves a chance to prove himself. How is he supposed to do that if they don't even give him a full season?"

Logan looks up at you, a mix of gratitude and sadness in his eyes. "I appreciate you having my back, stinks. But it's done. There's nothing we can do about it now."

You shake your head. "No, there has to be something. They can't just replace you with some F2 kid like that. They're out of their minds."

"YN," Oscar cuts in firmly. "I know you're angry. We all are. But right now, we need to be here for Logan. This isn't about us or what we think is fair. It's about supporting our friend."

As Oscar's words sink in, you feel a wave of guilt wash over you. He's right, of course. This isn't about your anger or your sense of injustice. It's about Logan, your friend who's just had his dream ripped away from him.

The three of you have been racing together since you were kids, climbing through the ranks side by side. You've shared victories and defeats, laughter and tears. You've pushed each other to be better, to chase your dreams relentlessly. And now, one of you is being left behind.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. "I just… I can't believe this is happening."

Logan manages a small smile. "It's okay, stinks. I appreciate your passion. It's one of the things I've always admired about you."

"Remember when we were in karting, and YN nearly got into a fist fight with that kid who tried to push Logan off the track?" Oscar says with a small smile, trying to light up the mood.

"How could I forget?" +

Logan chuckles softly, "She was like a tiny ball of fury."

You feel a smile tugging at your lips despite the situation. "Hey, nobody messes with my boys and gets away with it."

"And nothing's changed," Oscar adds, giving you a fond look. "We've always had each other's backs, through everything. This is not the exception."

Without another word, the three of you come together in a tight group hug, a physical representation of the bond you've shared for so many years.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri and 2,017,697 others

yourinstagram logan, you’re more than just a friend — you’re family. we’ve raced together since we were kids, dreaming of f1. to see that dream cut short for you is heartbreaking

your talent, dedication and kindness have always shone through. you deserved better than this mid-season swap. this sport can be cruel, but this feels especially unfair and i’m angry that my friend’s journey has been interrupted

but i’m also incredibly proud of you, logan. you have handled this with grace and strength and this isn’t the end for you — it’s just a detour. love you, stinks 🥲

view all comments

username1 IM SOBBING

username2 i still can’t believe this

username3 well hold your tears because you’re next

pierregasly Chin up, mate @/logansargeant you’re a champ 👊

alex_albon You will always be family @/logansargeant, It’s so sad to see you go

username4 that was cute now hand your seat to daniel or yuki

username5 THE FIRST PIC 🥺🥺 IM NOT OKAY

username6 oh she’s PISSED

username7 this is so unfair for logan

username8 colapinto has an enemy on track already and it’s her 😭

username9 the best trio will be incomplete now i’m not okay

username10 YOU NEXT BYE BYE

logansargeant Thank you for everything, go make me proud 💙

↳ username1 IM SOBBING AGAIN

liked by francolapinto, landonorris and 410,764 others

williamsracing Franco Colapinto to race for the remainder of the 2024 season.

username1 VAMOOOS

username2 hello?? hes cute

username3 OKAY I SEE

username4 good thing for the team, sargeant was just not it

alex_albon Welcome to the fam @/francolapinto 👊

username5 KIIING

username6 an f1 kid who's not even top 5 right now in the championship? risky move

yourinstagram not even giving logan a proper goodbye? yall suck

THIS COMMENT HAS BEEN DETELED

username1 OMFG YN WE SAW THAT

username2 YN 😭😭

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Monza is always a race to look forward no matter what team you drive for, but today, your excitement is just not there.

The paddock feels different without Logan's presence, you have always raced alongside him, and not seeing his face during a race weekend feels wrong.

As you make your way through the bustling crowd, you can't help but feel a pang of sadness and anger. Inside the Red Bull hospitality area, you find Max already settled in, scrolling through his phone. He looks up as you approach, a sympathetic smile on his face.

"Hey, kiddo. How are you holding up?" he asks, gesturing for you to take a seat next to him.

"As well as can be expected, I guess," you slump into the chair, running a hand through your hair. "It just feels wrong, you know?"

"Yeah, I get it," Max nods, his expression thoughtful, "How's Logan doing? Have you talked to him?"

The mention of Logan's name ignites that spark of anger inside you again. "He's… he's putting on a brave face, but I know he's hurting. This whole situation is such bullshit, Max. Williams made a huge mistake."

Max raises an eyebrow, sensing the storm brewing beneath your calm exterior. "You want to talk about it?"

That's all the invitation you need. The words start pouring out of you, your voice rising with each sentence.

"It's just so unfair! Logan was improving every race. He was working his ass off, putting in the hours, doing everything the team asked of him. And for what? To be tossed aside mid-season for some rookie?"

Max tries to interject, "Well, Colapinto has been pretty impressive in F2-"

But you're on a roll now, barely registering his words. "Impressive in F2? So what? F1 is a whole different ball game. Logan was just starting to get comfortable, to really show what he could do. And now they've brought in this Colapinto kid who's never even driven an F1 car, who's probably a paid driver who's just going to waste everyone's times. What kind of message does that send?"

You stand up, pacing back and forth as you continue your rant. "Williams is making a huge mistake. They're throwing away all the work Logan put in, all the data they've gathered. For what? A gamble on some unproven talent? And don't even get me started on how they handled it. No warning, no real explanation. Just 'Thanks for your service, now get out.' It's disrespectful, it's short-sighted, and it's everything that's wrong with this sport sometimes."

Max watches you, a mix of concern and surprise on his face. He's never seen you this fired up before. "YN, I understand you're upset, but-"

"No, Max!" you interrupt him, "You don't understand because you'll never have the fear of having your seat taken from you out of nowhere. You're Max Verstappen. You're safe. But for the rest of us… we're always one bad weekend away from losing everything."

Max's brow furrows, clearly taken aback by your statement. "YN, that's not true. I worked hard to get where I am-"

"I know you did," you interrupt again, your voice softer now. "I'm not saying you didn't. But you have to admit, your position is different. You're a world champion. You're untouchable. But for drivers like Logan, like me… we're always looking over our shoulders, always wondering if this race will be our last."

Max is silent for a moment, processing your words. "I guess you're right, I've been in a secure position for so long, I forgot what it's like to worry about your seat." He pauses, then adds, "But you know, you're in a unique position too. You're the only woman driving a Formula 1 car. That's pretty special. You should feel-"

You cut him off, your frustration flaring up again. "Exactly! I'm the only woman here, Max. Do you have any idea how much more pressure that puts on me? Every move I make is scrutinized. Every-"

Before you can continue, you spot Franco Colapinto walking past the Red Bull area, chatting animatedly with his new race engineer. The sight of him in Williams colors sends another wave of resentment through you, and you turn away abruptly.

"I need some air," you mutter, storming out of the hospitality area, leaving a bewildered Max in your wake.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

The sun beats down as you stand next to Oscar on the flatbed truck, waiting for the drivers' parade to begin. The usual buzz of excitement surrounding Monza feels muted to you, overshadowed still by Logan's absence and the presence of his replacement.

"Oi, what's with the long face?" Oscar nudges you playfully with his elbow. "You look like someone stole your last Tim Tam."

"Oh shut up, you dork," you can't help but crack a small smile, "As if I'd ever let anyone near my precious Tim Tams."

"Too right," Oscar grins. "But seriously, how are you holding up?"

You shrug, trying to keep your expression neutral for the cameras. "Oh, you know, just peachy. Nothing like a bit of midseason drama to spice things up, right?"

"Always the optimist, aren't you?" Oscar rolls his eyes, "Come on, I bet you twenty quid you can't name all the Italian F1 circuits without googling."

"You're on, Piastri," you say, grateful for the distraction. "Monza, Imola, Mugello…"

As you're racking your brain for more, you notice Franco Colapinto approaching. Your playful mood evaporates instantly.

Franco's eyes widen as he gets closer, clearly starstruck. "Uh, hi," he says nervously. "I'm Franco. I just wanted to introduce myself."

Oscar, ever the diplomat, smiles and extends his hand. "Hey mate, welcome to F1. I'm Oscar."

Franco shakes his hand before turning to you, his expression one of barely contained awe. "And you're YN. I… I can't believe I'm actually meeting you. You're such an inspiration. The way you've broken barriers in this sport, it's incredible. I've followed your career since your F3 days and-"

You cut him off, your voice cool. "Thanks. Welcome to the grid."

Franco's smile falters, but he presses on. "I just wanted to say how much I admire what you've accomplished. You've paved the way for so many young drivers, especially women in motorsport. It's an honor to be racing alongside you."

You nod stiffly. "Thanks," you repeat, your tone making it clear that you're not interested in continuing the conversation.

An awkward silence falls over the group. Oscar, sensing the tension, tries to smooth things over. "So, Franco, how are you finding the step up to F1 so far?"

As Franco turns to answer Oscar, you take the opportunity to step away, moving to the other side of the truck. You can feel Oscar's gaze following you, but you can't bring yourself to engage in small talk with Logan's replacement, no matter how well-intentioned he might be.

As you're standing alone, Alex approaches, a sympathetic smile on his face. "Hey, mind if I join you?"

You shrug. "Free country, Albon. Or free truck, I guess."

Alex chuckles softly. "How are you doing? I know this can't be easy for you."

You sigh, your guard dropping slightly with Alex. "It's… complicated. I'm angry for Logan, but I know it's not Franco's fault. It's just…"

"It's the reality of the sport we're in," Alex finishes for you. "Trust me, I get it. Been there, done that, got the Red Bull rejection t-shirt."

Your stomach twists at the mention of that, suddenly remembering the endless conversations and warnings from your team. And how despite having a contract for next season, there's threats about your seat being take away after every race weekend. But you push the thought away.

"Always the comedian, aren't you?"

"Someone's got to keep the mood light around here," Alex grins. "But seriously, I know it's tough. Franco's a good kid, though. He's been working really hard, trying to learn as much as he can."

You nod, not quite ready to let go of your resentment but appreciating Alex's perspective. "How's he settling in?"

"As well as can be expected," Alex says. "He's got a lot to learn, but he's eager. It's a big step up from F2, but he's handling the pressure well so far."

You're about to respond when the parade starts moving. Alex gives you a supportive pat on the shoulder before moving back to his spot. As the truck rolls down the straight, the cheers of the Tifosi wash over you. You lift your hand to wave, a mix of emotions swirling inside you that go beyond just Logan's replacement.

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liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 1,638,578 others

yourinstagram p8. it is what it is. ciao monza 👋

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username1 you will always be the moment

username2 FIX THE FUCKING CAR ALREADY

username3 ouu shes DONEEE

username4 most undeserved seat on the grid i swear

username5 anyway RICBULL IS COMING

francolapinto Such a pleasure to race alongside you!

↳ username1 franco respects and admires her so much i love it

↳ username2 im pretty sure yn hates him tho

username6 the constructors championship is gone thanks to her

logansargeant Chin up, love you 💙

↳ username2 i miss them so much

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liked by username1, username2 and 12,739 others

f1gossip YN arriving at Red Bull HQ in Milton Keynes

Tensions running high as rumors swirl about potential driver shake-ups. Sources say YN’s recent performance has bosses considering options

Is the Honey Badger eyeing a comeback or could young Liam Lawson be making the leap to F1? 🤔

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username1 bro...

username2 they better fix her car NOW

username3 RICBULL RICBULL

username4 honestly the best thing for the team would be her getting replaced

username5 YAAAS SHE'S OUT FINALLY

username6 oscar is the only 2023 rookie who actually puts in the work

username7 some people need to start putting some respect on yn's name bc yall keep forgetting she was third in the championship and got her first win during her ROOKIE SEASON and the reason she's struggling rn is bc redbull is not getting their shit together

↳ username1 right??? they're just saying shit

↳ username4 you said it yourself, she has a championship winning car and she's not delivering. she should be out

username8 YN GET BEHIND ME

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liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris and 1,638,538 others

yourinstagram great quali, we should have some fun tomorrow 😚

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username1 SLAYYY

username2 p4 after all the nonsense surrounding her seat? feels right

username3 THE QUEEN OF BAKU FOR REAL

lilyzneimer my favorite supergirl 💙

username4 she got lucky

username5 don't care, we still want danny or liam in that seat

username6 enjoy the race bc it might be your last

username7 watch her on that podium tomorrow

logansargeant Super proud always

↳ username2 LOGAN WE MISSS YOUUUU

francolapinto 🤩

liked by username1, logansargeant and 270,847 others

redbullracing Solid race and a bunch of points for the team 👊

Result 🏁PIA, LEC, YN P3, NOR, Max P5, ALO, ALB, COL, HAM, BEA

#F1 #RedBullRacing #AzerbaijanGP

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username1 SO DAMN TRUE

username2 yn back on the podium FINALLY

username3 yn saw the rumors about her seat and decided to shut them up

username4 SHES BEATING MAX FINALLY

username5 did they finally fix the car

username6 i don't want anyone commenting on her seat anymore

username7 i knew she got into that care absolutely PISSED

username8 QUEEN OF BAKU

liked by oscarpiastri, francolapinto and 1,764,933 others

yourinstagram was that entertaining? 😙 so happy to be on the podium for osco's second win, i love you so muuuch you diva

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username1 LEGEND

username2 she's so smug

username3 TELL THEM QUEEEN

landonorris The third pic is definitely your best @/oscarpiastri

↳ yourinstagram IKR

↳ username1 I LOVE THEM

logansargeant Congrats to both of you @/oscarpiastri @/yourinstagram I'm always proud of everything you achieve ❤️

↳ username2 logan should be there too i'm sad now

↳ oscarpiastri Love you mate

↳ yourinstagram this paddock will never be the same without you

maxvertsappen1 🙌🙌 So proud of you little sister

oscarpiastri Love you stinks

francolapinto Congrats! Always an honor to race alongside you

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The drivers' briefing has just concluded, and you find yourself lingering in the room, chatting with your friends.

"I swear, I almost peed my pants at that press conference!," Lando says, his eyes widening as he recalls, "When Max and YN just sat there in silence, staring down the journalists… I thought I was going to lose it!"

Pierre chuckles, giving you a knowing look. "I knew YN was the mastermind behind that. It has her written all over it."

"Well, someone had to make a point about these ridiculous penalties," you can't help but grin.

The group's laughter is interrupted as Franco approaches, a tentative smile on his face. "Hey guys, mind if I join?"

The others welcome him warmly, and you feel a knot forming in your stomach. You force a tight smile, trying to keep your emotions in check.

"Franco, mate!" George exclaims, patting him on the back. "That was some impressive driving in practice. You're settling in well."

Alex nods in agreement. "Yeah, you're really holding your own out there. Williams made a good choice."

You feel your jaw clench at Alex's words, but you remain silent, watching as Franco's face lights up with pride and gratitude.

"Thanks, guys," Franco says, his voice humble. "I still have a lot to learn, but I'm giving it my all."

"Well, it's paying off," Lando chimes in, "Points in just your second race? You're pushing that Williams harder than we've seen in a while."

As the conversation continues, with each driver offering praise and encouragement to Franco, you feel your frustration and anger building.

The memory of Logan's disappointment and unfairness of it all, mixed with the ever present threat of you seat having the same fate, bubbles up inside you until you can't contain it anymore.

"And what about Logan?" you snap, your voice cutting through the friendly chatter like a knife. The group falls silent, all eyes turning to you in surprise. Franco's smile fades, replaced by a look of discomfort and guilt.

"YN…" Oscar starts, his tone cautionary.

But you're too fired up to stop now. "No, seriously. Everyone's so quick to praise him, but what about Logan? He was improving every race, working his ass off, and for what? To be tossed aside mid-season?"

The atmosphere in the room becomes tense. George and Alex exchange uncomfortable glances, while Pierre shifts uneasily.

Franco, looking distressed, speaks up. "I never meant for Logan to lose his seat. I just took the opportunity when it was offered to me. Any driver would have done the same."

"Oh, so that makes it okay?" his words only fuel your anger. "You just 'took the opportunity'? Do you have any idea how hard Logan worked for that seat? How much he sacrificed?"

"YN, that's enough," Oscar says firmly, placing a hand on your arm.

But you shrug him off, your eyes blazing as you face Franco. "You waltz in here, taking a seat you didn't earn, and everyone's falling over themselves to congratulate you. It's not right. It's not fair."

The room falls into a shocked silence. Franco looks like he's been slapped, his earlier excitement completely deflated. The other drivers are staring at you with a mix of surprise and disapproval.

It's George who finally breaks the tension. "YN, I think we all understand you're upset about Logan. We all are. But this isn't Franco's fault. He's just trying to make the most of his chance, like any of us would."

You feel a flush of shame creeping up your neck, but your anger is still simmering. "You don't understand," you mutter, but the fight has gone out of your voice.

Franco, looking genuinely distressed, takes a step towards you. "I'm sorry about what happened to Logan. I really am. I have nothing but respect for him, and for you. I never wanted to cause any problems."

His sincerity catches you off guard, and for a moment, you see not the driver who replaced your friend, but a young, talented kid trying to navigate a difficult situation. However, your anger and frustration gets the best of you.

"Whatever," you mumble, pushing past the group and out of the room, leaving a stunned silence as you disappear.

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liked by lewishamilton, alex_albon and 709,639 others

francolapinto still buzzing from singapore 🇸🇬growing up watching Lewis battle in marina bay and now getting to race wheel to wheel with him... surreal doesn't even begin to cover it 🤯 and that fight with YN for position was proper racing - those last few laps were intense! thank you to the team for giving me a car that could fight at the front. vamos 💪

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username1 he’s an f1 driver now but he’ll always be a fanboy

lewishamilton Good racing kid, you've got a bright future ahead 👊🏾

williamsracing Our boy! 💙

username3 Did anyone else notice how aggressive YN was when overtaking Franco? Almost pushed him into the wall...

↳ username1 fr she looked like she wanted to crash him

↳ username4 they were racing for position, that's what racing drivers do 🙄

username5 the way he always mentions YN in his posts but she never acknowledges him 👀

username6 that move from YN was unnecessarily aggressive, could've ended badly

landonorris Great drive mate!

liked by yourinstagram, maxverstappen1 and 2,370,739 others

f1 BREAKING: Daniel Ricciardo to leave RB, the team have announced. Liam Lawson will race in place of Ricciardo for the remaining six races of the season for the team.

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username1 DANNY NOOOO

username2 this sucks man

danielricciardo Been a hell of a ride! Thank you RB family ❤️

maxverstappen1 Going to miss you mate!

username3 Wrong driver leaving... YN should be the one out

↳ username1 exactly! she's been underperforming all season

yourinstagram always grateful for everything you taught me DR. more than a driver - you've been a big brother, mentor, and friend since day one. going to miss our pre-race dance parties 🥺🤍

↳ username3 now give him your seat

↳ username1 it's no annoying to see that drivers like her have an undeserved contract extension and talented drivers get left out

↳ danielricciardo Love you kiddo! Make me proud

username5 Gutted to see Danny Ric go 💔

landonorris Won't be the same without you mate!

username7 @/yourinstagram Maybe focus more on racing than dancing 🙄

↳ username8 she's literally P5 in the championship, shut up

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As you step off the plane in Florida, the warm air envelops you, a stark contrast to the crisp autumn weather you left behind in Europe. Your heart lightens as you spot Logan waiting for you, his familiar grin a welcome sight after weeks of tension and stress. You missed your best friend so much.

You rush towards him, throwing your arms around him in a tight hug. "I missed you so much," you say, your voice muffled against his shoulder. "That paddock sucks without you."

Logan chuckles, returning the hug with equal enthusiasm. "I missed you too, stinks." He pulls back, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Now, let's grab a beer since you're out of race cars for a while."

You nod eagerly, letting him lead the way. He drives you to a nearby bar, one you've learned over the years of knowing him was the one he used to go to during his teenage years. The casual atmosphere is a refreshing change from the high-pressure environment of the paddock. As you settle into a booth with cold beers in hand, you feel some of the tension from the past few months start to melt away.

"So, how's life outside the F1 bubble?" you ask, taking a sip of beer.

Logan grins, leaning back in his seat. "It's… different. But not all bad. Actually, I've got some news." He pauses for dramatic effect. "I've been in talks with a few IndyCar teams."

Your eyes widen with excitement. "Logan, that's fantastic! Tell me everything!"

For the next hour, Logan animatedly describes his meetings with IndyCar team principals, the tracks he's excited to race on, and the new challenges he's looking forward to. You listen intently, genuinely happy for your friend's potential new chapter.

"It's not F1," Logan admits, "but it's a hell of a racing series. And who knows? Maybe it'll lead me back to F1 someday."

"I have no doubt," you assure him, raising your bottle in a toast. "To new beginnings!"

As the conversation flows, you find yourself relaxing more than you have in months. You chat about mutual friends, swap funny stories from your junior racing days, and discuss the latest paddock gossip.

Eventually, Logan's expression turns a bit more serious. "So, Oscar's been keeping me updated on what's been going on in F1. Sounds like things have been… tense with Franco."

You feel your mood shift at the mention of Franco's name. "Yeah, you could say that," you mutter, taking a long swig of your beer.

Logan leans forward, his voice gentle but firm. "YN, I know you're upset on my behalf, but you can't keep this grudge going forever. Franco's just a kid trying to make his way in the sport, like we all were not too long ago."

"I know, I know. It's just," you sigh heavily, "Every time I see him in the garage, in your overalls, talking to your engineers… it feels wrong, Logan. Like he's stolen something that belongs to you."

"But he didn't steal anything," Logan counters. "The team made a decision. It sucks for me, yeah, but that's not on Franco. He just took an opportunity that was offered to him. Can you honestly say you wouldn't have done the same in his position?"

You open your mouth to argue, then close it again. Logan has a point, and you know it.

"Look," Logan continues, "I've had some time to process all this, and I've come to terms with it. It's a cutthroat sport, YN. We all know that. Franco's not the villain here."

"But the way it happened," you protest, "mid-season, with no warning. It wasn't fair to you."

"Fair doesn't always come into it in F1. It just happens," Logan shrugs, "Besides," he adds with a hint of a smile, "I hear he's doing a decent job. The kid's got talent."

"He's alright," you grudgingly admit. "But he's not you."

Logan laughs. "No one's me, stinks. I'm one of a kind."

You can't help but crack a smile at that. "True enough."

"So," Logan says, his tone turning serious again, "can you promise me you'll try to ease up on Franco? Give him a fair shot? For me?"

You sigh deeply, considering his words. "I'll try," you finally concede. "But I'm not promising to be his best friend or anything."

"That's all I ask," Logan says, looking relieved. "Now, is this just about Franco replacing me, or is there something else going on? You seem… I don't know, more on edge than usual."

For a moment, you consider telling him about the talks with Red Bull, about the uncertainty surrounding your own seat. The words are on the tip of your tongue, but something holds you back. Maybe it's not wanting to burden Logan with your problems, or maybe it's not being ready to voice your fears out loud.

"No, nothing else," you lie, forcing a smile. "Just the usual F1 stress, you know how it is."

Logan nods, though he doesn't look entirely convinced. "Well, if there ever is anything, you know you can talk to me, right? Even if I'm not in the paddock anymore."

"I know," you say, feeling a pang of guilt. "Thanks, Logan. Really."

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

liked by logansargeant, landonorris and 1,289,673 others

yourinstagram florida !!! is one hell of a drug

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username1 AHHH she visited logan

logansargeant Next time we're doing the gator tour 🐊

↳ username2 i love them sm

oscarpiastri No invite for your favourite Aussie? Rude

↳ username2 we need the iconic trio together again

username3 they've been friends since forever, love how they support each other

username4 Logan and YN's friendship >>>>>

username5 Why is she on holiday when she should be working on her driving?

username6 the way logan always has her back 🥺

username7 surely there are better uses of time with 4 races left and her seat under threat?

francolapinto Amazing 🙌

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

You arrive at the Red Bull hospitality area in Austin, the excitement of being back after the break palpable in the air. As you walk in, you spot Max lounging on one of the sofas, scrolling through his phone.

"Well, well, look who finally decided to show up," Max grins, looking up from his device. "Did you get lost in the Texas wilderness?"

You roll your eyes playfully, dropping your bag on a nearby chair. "Oh, I'm sorry, Your Highness. Did I keep you waiting? I was busy signing autographs for all my adoring fans. You know how it is… oh wait, you don't."

"Ouch, that hurt," Max clutches his chest in mock pain, "And here I was, about to show you something interesting, but now I'm not so sure you deserve it."

You raise an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. The banter with Max always helps you relax before a race weekend, and you've missed this during the break. "Oh come on, spill it, Verstappen. You know you want to. Don't make me steal your phone."

Max chuckles and pats the seat next to him. "Alright, alright. Sit down before you hurt yourself trying to reach my phone."

As you sit down, he pulls up a video on his phone. "Check this out. It's an interview with your biggest fan."

It's an interview with Franco. Your initial instinct is to look away, a mix of guilt and stubbornness rising in your chest. But something in Max's expression makes you watch.

"Lewis Hamilton and YN are my biggest idols in F1," Franco is saying, his face earnest. "The way YN races, her dedication and skill, it's truly inspiring. She's broken so many barriers and shown that talent knows no gender. I feel honored just to be on the same grid as her."

As the interview continues, Franco heaps more praise on you, his admiration clear in every word. You feel a twinge of guilt, remembering how cold you've been towards him. The genuine respect in his voice makes you uncomfortable, forcing you to confront your own prejudices.

"Her overtake on Leclerc in Interlagos last year? That was pure brilliance," Franco continues. "I've watched that move countless times, trying to learn from it. YN's not just a great driver, she's changing the face of the sport. I hope one day I can race wheel-to-wheel with her and show her the respect she deserves on track."

Max turns off the video and looks at you expectantly. "I think you owe someone an apology," he says, his tone gentle but firm.

You nod slowly, the realization sinking in. A wave of shame washes over you as you remember your cold behavior towards Franco. "I think I do," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Max puts a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Hey, we all make mistakes. What matters is how we fix them. Franco's a good kid, and he really looks up to you. Maybe it's time to give him a chance?"

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. "I actually talked to Logan last week," you confess, watching Max's eyebrows rise in surprise. "He's doing well, actually - focusing on IndyCar now. But we talked a lot about… everything."

"Yeah?" Max shifts in his seat, clearly intrigued. It's not often you open up about these things.

"He basically told me I needed to stop fighting battles that weren't mine to fight. Said he appreciates me having his back, but Franco isn't the enemy here. He's just chasing his dream, like we all did. Logan said he remembers how it felt, getting his first chance - we all do."

Max nods thoughtfully. "Logan's right, you know. We've all been there at some point - getting an opportunity because someone else lost theirs. It's just how F1 works sometimes."

"I know," you admit, standing up. "And I've been unfair to Franco. He's actually doing a really good job with Williams, fighting in the midfield with a car that's not the easiest to drive. And here I am, making him feel unwelcome when I should be supporting talent. Some role model I am, right?"

"So what are you going to do about it?" Max asks, though his smile suggests he already knows.

You spot Franco heading towards the Williams hospitality area. "I'm going to make it right."

Walking over to Williams, you feel your heart pounding a little faster with each step. You find Franco sitting at one of the tables, going through data on his laptop with his race engineer.

"Franco?" you call out. "Could I steal you for a moment?"

He looks up, surprise evident on his face. "YN? Hi… yeah, of course." He glances at his engineer, who nods and excuses himself.

"Mind if I sit?" you ask, gesturing to the empty chair. When he nods, you take a deep breath. "I owe you an apology. A proper one."

Franco starts to shake his head, but you hold up a hand. "Please, let me finish. I've been unfair to you, and it wasn't right. I let my loyalty to Logan blind me to the fact that you're just a talented driver making the most of your opportunity. I've been cold, sometimes even hostile, and you didn't deserve any of that."

"I… thank you," Franco says quietly. "That means a lot. I want you to know, I reached out to Logan when-"

"I know," you interrupt gently. "He told me. That's partly why I'm here. You showed real class doing that, Franco. And you're doing a great job with the car. That P8 in Baku? That was proper racing."

A genuine smile breaks across his face. "Coming from you, that really means a lot. You know, I've watched your races since I was in F3. The way you fought through all the doubters, proved everyone wrong… you're really an inspiration."

You feel your throat tighten unexpectedly. "I had no idea."

"That's why your opinion means so much," Franco admits, fiddling with his water bottle. "When you seemed disappointed in me being here… it hurt, you know?"

"I'm sorry," you say again, meaning it more than ever. "How about we start fresh? Maybe you can talk me through that overtake in Baku - I noticed you used a similar line to what I did in Interlagos last year."

Franco's eyes light up. "You caught that? I actually studied your move while preparing for the race! The way you positioned the car on entry…"

You spend the next twenty minutes discussing racing lines and overtaking techniques, the earlier tension completely dissolved. Franco's enthusiasm is infectious, reminding you of your own early days in F1.

When you finally walk back to Max, you feel lighter than you have in months. He greets you with a knowing smile. "Feel better?"

"Much better," you admit. "Sometimes you need a kick in the right direction So thank you, I needed that wake-up call."

"Anytime," he smirks, throwing an arm around your shoulders, "Can't have my teammate being the paddock villain, can I? That's my job."

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

Liked by francolapinto, maxverstappen1 and 1,667,459 others

yourinstagram rookies keeping us on our toes 😤 good battles today @/francolapinto

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username1 THIS IS LEGENDARY

username3 franco is going to piss his pants

williamsracing Our rookie giving the Red Bull a run for their money 💙

username4 she shouldn’t be acknowledging that a rookie in a williams is making it hard for her… embarrasing

username5 the start of YN and Franco's friendship? 👀

username7 the tension between these two was getting old, glad they're friends now

username8 HANDLE YOUR SEAT

username8 MY DUO 😭❤️

francolapinto Next time I won’t make it easy for you!

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The private jet hums quietly through the night sky towards Mexico City. Most of the other drivers are asleep, exhausted from the intense Austin weekend. You find yourself unable to sleep, your mind still racing from the events of the day. Glancing around the dimly lit cabin, you notice Franco is also awake, absently flipping through a magazine.

Catching your eye, he gives you a warm smile and moves to the empty seat across from you. "Can't sleep either?"

"Too much adrenaline still," you admit, adjusting your position to face him better. "Great drive today, by the way. That point was well-deserved."

Franco's face lights up at the compliment. "Thanks! Though it's nothing compared to your battle with Lando. I was watching it from behind and thought 'there's no way she's going to make that stick' but then you just… did. It was incredible."

You laugh softly, careful not to wake the others. "There was a moment there where I wasn't sure either. But sometimes you just have to go for it, you know?"

"Oh, I know exactly what you mean," Franco grins. "Like that time in F3 when I tried to go around the outside at Spa and ended up practically in another timezone."

"Please tell me there's video of that," you snicker.

"Unfortunately for my dignity, yes. I think my engineer still uses it as an example of what not to do."

The conversation flows naturally, jumping from racing stories to childhood memories. You find yourself genuinely enjoying his company, something that would have seemed impossible just a few weeks ago.

"So what made you want to be a racing driver?" you ask, genuinely curious.

As Franco launches into how he found his passion for the sport, you find yourself really looking at him properly for the first time. The soft cabin lighting catches the angles of his face, and you notice details you'd overlooked before. His eyes are warm with flecks of gold, crinkling slightly at the corners when he smiles. There's a small scar above his right eyebrow, barely noticeable unless you're paying attention. His dark hair is slightly disheveled from the long race day, a few strands falling across his forehead.

You catch yourself thinking how handsome he actually is, in that classic way. His animated expressions as he talks about racing make him even more attractive, his passion for the sport evident in every gesture.

"...and that's when I knew I wanted to do this forever," he finishes, then looks slightly embarrassed. "Sorry, I'm rambling. I tend to get carried away when talking about racing."

"No, don't apologize," you say quickly. "It's refreshing to see that kind of enthusiasm. Some of the guys get so jaded after a while."

Franco's smile turns a bit shy. "Speaking of enthusiasm, I'm really excited about racing in Mexico this weekend. It's one of my favorite cities - the atmosphere is just incredible."

"The fans are amazing there," you agree. "Though I still haven't found a really good place to eat in Mexico City. The hotel restaurant gets old pretty quickly."

Franco's eyes light up. "Oh, you have to let me help with that! I know a couple of amazing restaurants in the city. There's this incredible place that serves the best traditional dishes you've ever tasted, and another one in that does contemporary Mexican cuisine that would blow your mind."

You find yourself intrigued, both by the suggestion and the eager way he's describing it. "That sounds way better than room service."

"We could..." he hesitates for a moment, then continues with determination, "we could go together, if you'd like? After Thursday's media duties maybe? I'd love to show you my favorite spots."

There's something endearing about the way he's trying to sound casual while clearly being nervous about asking. You feel a flutter in your stomach that you definitely weren't expecting.

"You know what? That sounds great," you say, surprised by how much you mean it. "It's about time I experienced proper Mexican cuisine."

Franco's face breaks into a brilliant smile. "Perfect! I'll make a reservation for Thursday evening then. Trust me, you won't regret it."

As the conversation continues, you can't help but notice how natural it feels now, how easily you're laughing at his jokes and sharing stories. It's hard to believe this is the same person you were avoiding just a few weeks ago.

As other drivers start stirring from their sleep, Franco returns to his original seat, but not before confirming your dinner plans one more time.

Watching him walk away, you find yourself looking forward to Thursday evening more than you probably should. It's just dinner with a colleague, you tell yourself, even as you catch yourself smiling at the thought of it.

"Just dinner," you whisper to yourself, but somehow, you're not entirely convinced.

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yourinstagram has added to their close friends stories

replies:

georgerussell63 So that was all the giggling I heard during the flight

oscarpiastri I’m so telling Logan

maxverstappen1 Can I say “I told you so” now?

francolapinto close friends privileges already? wow

↳ yourinstagram don’t push it colapinto

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The hotel lobby is relatively quiet as you wait for Franco, having agreed to meet there before heading to the restaurant. You've opted for casual - a simple black dress that makes you feel confident but not overdressed.

"Ready to have your mind blown by the best food in Mexico City?" Franco's voice makes you turn. He's wearing dark jeans and a well-fitted navy button-down, and you try not to notice how good he looks.

"Big claims require big proof," you tease, falling into step beside him.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Lando's familiar accent cuts through the lobby. He's just coming in from what looks like a gym session, and his surprised smirk makes you want to roll your eyes. "Interesting dinner plans?"

"Just showing YN the local cuisine," Franco says smoothly, though you notice his ears turning slightly pink.

"Right, right," Lando drawls, his eyes dancing with amusement. "The local cuisine. In your nice shirt. At that fancy place you've been talking about for weeks-"

"Goodbye, Lando," you cut him off, grabbing Franco's arm and steering him toward the exit, trying to ignore Lando's knowing chuckle behind you. You knew it was a matter of time before the entire grid finds out you went out with Franco.

The restaurant is everything Franco promised and more. The conversation flows easily between you, and you find yourself charmed by the way he seamlessly switches between Spanish and English while ordering, the way he leans in slightly when you're talking, the way his hand occasionally brushes yours across the table.

"No way," you laugh, taking another sip of wine. "You did not challenge your friend to a dance-off."

"I absolutely did," Franco grins. "And I won, by the way. Though there might have been some tequila involved."

"I would pay good money to see that."

"Play your cards right," he says with a playful wink, "and maybe you'll get a private demonstration."

The flirtatious comment catches you off guard, and you feel heat rise to your cheeks. Franco seems pleased with this reaction, his confidence growing throughout the evening.

The evening continues, warm and comfortable. Franco insists on ordering dessert - "You haven't lived until you've tried their churros con chocolate" - and you find yourself sharing stories between bites of perfectly crispy churros.

"So," Franco says, wiping chocolate from his lip with a napkin, "you, Oscar, and Logan - that's quite the trio. How did that happen?"

You laugh, fondly remembering those early days. "We practically grew up together in karting. I was this tiny kid trying to prove myself, Oscar was already sassy even at eight years old, and Logan… well, Logan was Logan."

"Let me guess - immediate chaos?" Franco grins.

"Oh, absolutely. We used to drive our parents and coaches crazy. These three kids who wouldn't stop racing each other even after practice was over." You smile at the memory. "We've been inseparable ever since. Though now Logan's living his best life in Florida."

Franco's eyes soften. "You really miss having him in the paddock, don't you?"

"Yeah," you admit quietly. "I do. But he's happy, and that's what matters. Plus, he texts me stupid memes at least twenty times a day, so it's like he never left."

After asking for the bill — one that Franco didn't let you pay no matter how much you insisted — you decided to walk back to the hotel. You were aware that his hand was close to yours as you walked side by side, almost brushing your fingers, but you didn't dare to take that step, and neither did he.

You reach the hotel, but instead of heading straight for the elevators, Franco suggests taking the scenic route through the garden. The night is too nice to end just yet.

"I have to say," he remarks as you walk, "you look beautiful tonight. That dress is…" he makes an exaggerated chef's kiss gesture, making you laugh.

"Smooth, Colapinto. Very smooth."

"I try," he winks, and you roll your eyes but can't hide your smile.

The walk to your room comes too quickly. Outside your door, Franco turns to you with a soft smile.

"Thank you for tonight," he says. "It was… nice. Really nice."

"It was," you agree, finding yourself meaning it completely. "Thank you for showing me your favorite spot."

There's a moment where you both just look at each other, the air charged with something unspoken. Franco takes a small step closer, then seems to think better of it.

"Goodnight, YN," he says softly, squeezing your hand once before letting go.

"Goodnight, Franco," you reply, watching him head down the hallway.

As you close the door behind you, you lean against it, smiling to yourself. You can already hear Max's smug "I told you so" tomorrow, but somehow, you can't bring yourself to care.

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liked by username1, username2 14,892 users

f1gossip🚨 Franco Colapinto and YN spotted having dinner together in Mexico City. They spent over two hours at the restaurant according to witnesses.

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username2 This is getting interesting... 👀

username3 STOP I'M CRYING 😭❤️

username4 they're just friends guys, calm down

username4 the way he makes her laugh though!!!

username5 watch how they'll deny everything tomorrow

username6 MY HEART CAN'T TAKE THIS

username8 this has to be more than just friendship...

username10 I MANIFESTED THIS

username12 focus on racing instead of dating maybe?

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The Brazilian rain hammers down relentlessly on the Interlagos circuit. It's barely 6 AM, but the paddock is already buzzing with nervous energy for the early sprint qualifying. You stifle a yawn as you check your phone for what must be the hundredth time that morning. Another message from Franco pops up - a picture of himself looking comically miserable in the rain with the caption "Maybe if we all pretend we didn't see the rain, they'll cancel quali?"

The past week has been unexpected in the best way possible. After that dinner in Mexico, something shifted. What started as sharing breakfast in the hotel turned into spending every free moment together. During the long flight to São Paulo, George had dramatically sighed and switched seats with Franco, muttering something about "not being able to take the longing looks across the plane anymore."

"Someone's cheerful for 6 AM," Max comments, walking into the garage as you quickly type a response to Franco. "Let me guess - Argetinian company keeping you entertained?"

You try to hide your smile but fail miserably. "Shut up and focus on qualifying."

"Oh, I'm focused," he grins. "Unlike someone who keeps looking at their phone every two minutes."

"I'm just-"

"YN," Max interrupts, counting off on his fingers, "he waited outside our debrief yesterday just to walk you to dinner. He somehow always knows your coffee order. And don't think I didn't notice him giving you his jacket yesterday."

You feel your cheeks heat up. "We're just friends."

"Right," Max smirks. "Friends. Like how Charles and I are 'just friends' when we're trying to punt each other off track."

"Shut up, as if you weren't secretly in love with each other."

A few hours later, as you prepare for the drivers' parade, Oscar sidles up next to you with his trademark grin.

"Well, well, if it isn't the stranger," he says dramatically. "Remember me? One of your best friends? Though I suppose you wouldn't know, being attached at the hip with a certain Williams driver these days."

You roll your eyes, but there's no heat in it. "Miss me that much, Piastri?"

"Just saying, used to be we'd get coffee before parade, now it's all 'Sorry Oscar, Franco already got me coffee,'" he mimics your voice terribly.

You're about to retort when Franco appears, and Oscar's grin widens. "And that's my cue. Have fun, kids!" He winks before sauntering off.

"Ignore him," you say when you notice a small smile in Franco's face, "He's the perpetual pain in my ass."

"He's okay," Franco says, standing closer to you. You're trying to get your hair in order when you realize something's missing.

"Shit," you mutter, patting your pockets. "I forgot my hair tie."

"You always braid it before races, right?"

"Yeah," you sigh, still searching. "I'm stupidly superstitious about it. Haven't gotten into the car without a perfect braid since F3."

"Here," Franco pulls a hair tie from his wrist. At your surprised look, he shrugs. "I started carrying one after Mexico. Just in case," he shrugs, as if he was saying the most obvious thing ever, "Turn around."

"You know how to braid hair?"

"Sisters, remember? I'm practically a professional." His fingers are gentle as they work through your hair. "Besides, can't have you breaking your streak because of a missing hair tie."

You're acutely aware of the other drivers watching with varying degrees of amusement. Lewis gives you a knowing wink as he passes, while Charles not-so-subtly elbows Oscar and gestures toward you two.

"There," he says finally, securing the end with your hair tie. "Perfect braid for perfect racing."

You reach back to feel it - it is indeed perfect. When you turn to thank him, you find him much closer than expected, his eyes soft as they meet yours.

"Show off," you manage to say, trying to ignore the way your heart is racing.

"Only for you," he replies with a wink, and you hear what sounds suspiciously like Alex whispering "Just kiss already" to George.

The moment is broken by the announcement for drivers to take their places on the parade truck. As you climb aboard, you catch Oscar making exaggerated swooning gestures at you, while Max simply mouths "Just friends?" with a knowing smirk.

Franco takes his place beside you on the truck, close enough that your shoulders touch, and somehow you find you don't really care who's watching.

"Nice braid, by the way," Charles calls out teasingly from behind you. "Franco, think you could do mine next time?"

"Get your own hair stylist, Leclerc," you call back, and Franco's laugh next to you makes everything - the bad qualifying, the rain, the teasing - worth it.

The truck starts moving, and Franco's hand finds yours, hidden from view between you. You intertwine your fingers with his, and neither of you let go for the entire parade.

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liked by username1, username2 and 21,765 others

f1_insider🚨 Christian Horner spotted leaving Williams hospitality after a 2-hour meeting in Brazil. This comes amid increasing speculation about driver changes for 2025.

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username1 They're not even trying to be subtle anymore…

username2 leave YN alone challenge

username3 Franco to Red Bull confirmed? 👀

username5 WAIT WHAT

username7 the timing of this… right before quali 😬

username8 everyone acting surprised like this hasn't been brewing for weeks username11 They're trying to destabilize her before the race

liked by maxverstappen1, carlossainz55 and 2,093,032 others

yourinstagram brazil never disappoints. p15 ➡️ p2. proud of this one.

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username1 IM STILL CRYING

username2 MIC DROP

maxverstappen1 Proper racing today 💪🏻 That defense in the last 10 laps 🔥Love you kiddo, couldn't ask for a better teammate

↳ username1 max said SHE'S NOT GOING ANYWHERE

danielricciardo THIS IS WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT! That's my girl!

username3 EVERYONE'S PRIDE AND JOY

username4 she got lucky and still no win this season

landonorris Absolute monster in the wet

logansargeant THAT'S MY BEST FRIEND

username5 this is why she deserves that seat

username6 where are all the haters now? 🤫

username7 that battle through the midfield was masterclass

username8 Silencing critics in the best way possible

liked by username1, username2 and 14,088 others

f1gossip YN's radio messages during Franco's crash show a different side to their "rivalry." Listen to how her voice changes when she finds out it's him. Sometimes the real feelings come through in moments like these.

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username2 this doesn't sound like someone who "hates" him

username3 top I'm crying 😭

username4 "tell me he's okay" broke me

username6 forget the rivalry narrative, that's genuine concern

username7 MY DRIVERS STOOOOP

username8 this is the most emotion we've heard from her all season

username9 notice how she's been cold towards him for weeks but the second he's in danger…

username10 SOMETHING SHIFTED

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The easy banter has become your normal over the past week. Ever since Brazil, where you fought your way from P15 to P2 in treacherous conditions, something has shifted between you. The walls you'd carefully maintained started crumbling during that rain-soaked weekend.

Your phone buzzes again - this time it's Christian Horner requesting a meeting. Your stomach tightens instinctively. These meetings have become more frequent throughout the season, always with subtle undertones about your future with the team.

Franco: "Meeting with James in 10. Wish me luck not falling asleep in the sim debrief. Call you after?"

You: "Sure, good luck x"

The 'x' slips out before you can stop it - you've never added that before. Your finger hovers over the delete button, but he's already seen it.

Franco: "Did THE YN just send me a kiss? Screenshots being taken. This is historic

You're still smiling about your early interaction with Franco when you walk into Christian Horner's office, but his expression is serious enough to make your smile fade. You've been here before - these "casual meetings" that could determine your future.

"YN, thanks for making time," he gives a polite smile, "Please, take a seat."

You sit, trying to read his expression. Last week's podium trophy sits on a shelf behind him - your trophy, earned after fighting through half the grid.

"As you're aware, your contract includes certain performance clauses. While your recent results, particularly Brazil, have been impressive, we need to consider all options for the team's future."

That familiar knot in your stomach returns. "What kind of options?"

"I was at Williams recently," Christian says carefully, "discussing various possibilities, including Franco Colapinto."

The world seems to tilt slightly. Franco. At Williams. Meeting about possibilities. Just like with Logan.

"I got P2 in Brazil," you say, hating how defensive your voice sounds. "Started P15. In the rain. I battled with the entire grid while also defending for Max to secure a double podium."

"Yes, and it was an exceptional drive-"

"I'm fifth in the championship. I've scored podiums consistently despite the car being a nightmare to drive most of the times. What more do I need to do?"

Christian's expression remains neutral. "This isn't about any single result, YN. We need to evaluate all potential scenarios for the team's future."

"So you're considering replacing me," you say flatly. "With Franco."

"I trust you understand this is just business, YN," Christian says as you stand to leave. "We have to explore every option."

You pause at the door, turning back slightly. "Of course. Business." Your voice is perfectly controlled. "Just like my P2 in Brazil was business. My podiums were business. Everything I've given to this team has been business."

"YN-"

"No, I get it. Really." You manage a smile that doesn't reach your eyes. "If you'll excuse me, I have some sim work to review."

It hits you as you drive back to your apartment - every friendly conversation, every shared coffee, every late-night text… none of it was real. Franco isn't your friend. He's just another driver who sees you as an obstacle to overcome, a seat to claim. Just like everyone else since you entered F1, smiling to your face while plotting to take what's yours.

Back in your apartment, your phone keeps lighting up with Franco's messages, each one making your chest tighter. You can't bring yourself to block him - that feels too much like acknowledging how much this hurts. Instead, you just... stop responding. Set the phone aside. Focus on your laptop, on race data, on anything else.

Your phone rings - Oscar's familiar face popping up on the screen.

"Finally!" he exclaims when you answer. "I've been trying to reach you all day. You missed the most hilarious thing - Lando tried to make vegemite pasta."

Despite everything, you find yourself smiling. "Please tell me someone filmed it."

The conversation flows easily, almost making you forget about everything else. Almost.

"Oh yeah," Oscar adds casually, "ran into Franco at paddle today. He seemed pretty worried-"

"He better focus on preparing for his Red Bull seat instead."

"His what?" Oscar sounds confused. "Stinks, what are you on about?"

"Horner had meetings at Williams. About Franco. About possibilities. Sound familiar?"

"Hang on, hang on. Did you even talk to Franco about this? Because he genuinely seemed concerned-"

"Of course he seemed concerned, Os. That's the whole point."

"YN, I know you. You're doing that thing where you push people away before they can hurt you. But stinks, I really don't think-"

"I have to go. Sim data to review."

"At least talk to him-"

You end the call, turning back to your laptop. Three races left. Three chances to prove everyone wrong. No more distractions, no more letting your guard down.

You'll do it the only way that matters in F1 - on track, where lap times speak louder than friendly texts, and championship points mean more than shared coffee breaks.

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You've managed three weeks. Three weeks of perfectly crafted indifference, of calling him "the Williams driver" in interviews, of taking different routes through the paddock just to avoid those chance encounters that used to make your heart skip. Three weeks of pretending you don't miss his stupid sparkle messages, or the way he always saves you a coffee during early practice sessions.

But now your hands won't stop shaking as you stare at your dark phone screen, trying to ignore the screens showing the mangled Williams in the Las Vegas Strip. You've watched the replay seventeen times without meaning to, each time feeling your heart stop at the impact.

"This is getting ridiculous," Max's voice is quiet beside you, making you jump. You didn't even hear him approach. "Stop with this nonsense."

"I'm fine," you respond automatically, thumb still pretending to scroll on your black screen. "Just checking the timing sheets."

"Your phone isn't even on." Max's hand appears, gently taking the phone from your trembling grip. "They've taken him to UMC. Just go."

"I can't," you whisper, finally looking up at your teammate. You hate how your voice catches. "Everyone will—"

"Who cares what everyone will say?" Max interrupts, already reaching for your bag. "Hannah's got a car waiting. Go."

"I don't want to," you protest weakly, but even you can hear how unconvincing it sounds. "I don't need to—"

"Stop," Max's voice is firm but gentle. "You're not going back to this. Not after everything. You care about him, stop pretending you don't."

You take a shaky breath, then nod once. You're out of the garage before you can change your mind and rebuild those walls you've spent three weeks perfecting. Because Max is right – you do care. You care so much it terrifies you. And right now, nothing else matters except knowing he's okay.

You hate hospitals. You've spent too many hours in them after your own crashes, but somehow this is worse. Standing outside his room, you're suddenly unsure of everything. Three weeks of carefully constructed distance seems ridiculous now.

"You can come in instead of hovering at the door," Franco's voice carries from inside, slightly hoarse but still holding that hint of amusement that always used to drive you crazy. "Unless you're planning to run away again."

You step inside, trying to maintain some composure even as your heart clenches at the sight of him. "I wasn't running away," you say automatically, but it sounds weak even to your ears.

"No?" He raises an eyebrow, wincing slightly at the movement. "So you just happened to take different paddock routes?"

"Franco—"

"It's back to Franco now? Not 'the Williams driver'?" There's hurt beneath his teasing tone, and it makes your chest tight. "That last interview was particularly cold, by the way. Very convincing."

You stay by the door, arms crossed. "I thought that's what everyone wanted. Space. Distance. Rivalry."

"You're here now though."

"Max made me come," you lie.

"Sure he did." Franco's small smile tells you he sees right through you. "Nothing to do with how many times you asked if I was okay over the radio?"

You feel your cheeks heat up. Of course he's heard the radio already. "I would have asked about any driver."

"YN," his voice softens, and it breaks something in you. "Stop pretending. Please. I miss my friend."

The last words hit you hard, and you finally let your arms drop, taking a step closer. "I miss you too," you whisper, and it feels like admitting defeat and victory all at once. "I was so scared when I saw the crash."

"Come here," he says quietly, patting the edge of the bed.

You hesitate for just a moment before crossing the room, carefully sitting beside him. "I'm sorry," you say softly. "For these past weeks. For being harsh. For—"

"I know," he interrupts, his hand finding yours. "I know. But you're here now."

You squeeze his hand gently, feeling the walls you've built crumbling completely. "You could have died today and I would have never—" you stop yourself, running your thumb over his knuckles without thinking. "All because of this stupid seat."

Franco's quiet for a moment, then lets out a small laugh that turns into a wince. "Is that what you think? That I'm after your seat?"

"Aren't you?" You try to pull your hand away but he holds on. "The meetings with Christian, the—"

"YN," he interrupts, waiting until you look at him. "I never got any offers from RedBull.”

You freeze. "What?"

"I'm not taking your seat," he says softly. "In fact, I still don't have a seat."

"But...the meetings with Horner?" You're struggling to process this. "He basically told me they were considering options for next season, and those options were you in my seat."

"Sounds to me that he was pressuring you." His eyes hold yours. "My team had meetings with RedBull, yes. But we never got a solid offer, not even for VCARB."

You feel slightly dizzy. Three weeks of avoiding him, of building up walls, of convincing yourself he was just another driver trying to take your seat...

"I'm an idiot, aren't I?" you finally manage.

"Well, you've taken the long way through the paddock just to avoid me," he teases, then becomes serious. "I wouldn't hurt you like that. You know that. Or at least, you used to."

"I got scared," you admit quietly. "When I heard about the meetings, I just... it was easier to push you away than to admit that I care about you."

The silence that follows feels heavy with everything unsaid. Finally, Franco squeezes your hand gently.

"Well," he says softly, "nearly dying seems to have worked out well for me then."

"That's not funny," but you're fighting a smile.

"Made you come see me though, didn't it?"

"I hate you," but there's no heat in it.

"No, you don't," he says confidently. "You just admitted you care about me. No taking it back now."

You roll your eyes but don't deny it. "How are you feeling, really?"

"Like I crashed a car at 200mph," he grins, then softens. "Better now though."

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liked by francolapinto, maxverstappen1 and 1,908,479 others

yourinstagram champion x4 🏆so proud to be part of this journey. no one deserves it more than you @/maxverstappen1. thank you for being the best teammate anyone could ask for, on and off track.

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username1 IM CRYINGGGGG

username2 this is my family

maxverstappen1 Couldn't ask for a better teammate and bonus little sister. Thanks for having my back all season 💪🏻

↳ username1 HE SAID SHE'LL ALWAYS BE MY TEAMMATE

danielricciardo Look at my kids making me proud 🥹

christianhorner Fantastic team effort all year. Proud of both of you.

↳ username1 FIX HER CAR AND STOP FEEDING HER TO THE PRESS!!

username5 the way max waited to celebrate until she crossed the finish line

username6 remember when they said they wouldn't get along

username7 brother sister energy we love to see it

francolapinto Amazing work 🙌

↳ username8 bro ready to take her seat

username9 their relationship is too pure. max adores her like she's his little sister and yn would take a murder charge for him pretty much

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After showering and changing post-race, you're walking back to your hotel room when your phone buzzes. Franco's name lights up the screen: "Hey... could you come to my room? Need to get my mind off today. Room 412."

You hesitate only briefly before responding. After everything that's happened - the crash, the hospital, the conversations that followed - things between you have felt different.

Qatar had been grueling, you managed to score a solid P4 but the story for Franco had been different. He was part of a collision during turn one that ended his race right there. You heard it on the radio and your heart couldn't help but ache for him.

When you knock, Franco opens the door looking drained, his usual spark dimmed by the day's events. He's changed into soft sweatpants and a team shirt, hair still damp from his shower.

"That bad, huh?" you say softly, following him into the room.

He drops onto the bed with a sigh. "First lap incidents are the worst. All that preparation, all those hours in the sim… gone in seconds."

You settle into the armchair across from him. "I saw the replay. That wasn't your fault - Hulkenberg came across way too aggressively."

"Doesn't matter whose fault it was. Points are points, and I need them." He runs a hand through his hair, a gesture you've come to recognize as stress. "The pressure's getting intense. Everyone keeps asking about next year's plans, and I just… I don't know."

"Hey," you say gently, moving to sit beside him. "You're one of the most talented drivers out there. Everyone sees it."

"Do they?" His voice is uncharacteristically vulnerable. "Because right now it feels like every mistake is being magnified. One DNF and suddenly everyone's questioning if I deserve the seat."

"I know that feeling too well," you admit. "I mean, I spent three weeks avoiding you because I thought you were after my seat."

That draws a small laugh from him. "Not my finest moment in the hospital, guilt-tripping you about it."

"It worked though, didn't it?" you nudge his shoulder playfully, "Plus, I guilt tripped you about Logan's seat for the longest time, it's only fair."

"Yeah, well, I was desperate. Do you know how hard it was watching you take different routes through the paddock just to avoid me?"

"About as hard as it was taking those routes," you say softly. "I missed you."

"You did manage to find some creative paths though," he teases, his mood lightening slightly. "I particularly enjoyed watching you duck behind Lando in the airport."

"I did not duck!"

"You absolutely did. Practically dove behind him. Poor guy had no idea why you suddenly needed an urgent conversation about sim settings."

You feel your cheeks heat up. "Well, what about you? Mr. 'Oh sorry, I didn't see you there' when we literally made eye contact in the media pen?"

"That was Oscar's fault! He told me my hair looked weird and I got distracted."

"Your hair always looks weird."

He gasps in mock offense. "Take that back! This hair has its own fan accounts."

"Yeah, horror fan accounts maybe," you tease.

"Says the person who needed my expert braiding skills before races."

"Which you learned from your sisters, if I remember correctly?"

His expression softens. "Actually… I might have YouTube'd it after Mexico."

That catches you off guard. "You… what?"

"Yeah," he rubs the back of his neck, suddenly looking sheepish. "Spent like three hours practicing on a rope I found in the gym. Alex caught me and wouldn't stop laughing."

"That's…" you feel something warm bloom in your chest. "That's actually really sweet."

"Don't tell anyone," he grins. "I have a reputation to maintain."

"Oh yeah? What reputation is that?"

"You know, cool, mysterious, definitely not the type to watch hair braiding tutorials."

You laugh. "Hate to break it to you, but anyone who's seen you try to work the coffee machine knows you're not mysterious."

"That machine is complicated!"

"It has three buttons!"

"Three very confusing buttons," he protests. "Besides, you're the one who always shows up right when I'm struggling with it."

"Pure coincidence."

"Right," he smirks. "Just like how you 'coincidentally' started showing up earlier to breakfast after I mentioned that's when I usually go?"

You feel your cheeks warm again. "I just… wanted to beat the rush."

"The rush of exactly two other drivers who eat that early?"

"Shut up," you mutter, but you're smiling.

The air between you changes, becomes charged with everything unsaid. You're suddenly very aware of how close you're sitting, how his eyes have dropped to your lips.

He doesn't say anything else, instead, he leans forward and kisses you, soft and careful, like he's afraid you might pull away. His hand comes up to cup your cheek, and you feel yourself melting into the touch.

When he pulls back, you blink at him, slightly dazed. "You kissed me."

His familiar smirk returns, though his eyes remain soft. "Well done, Sherlock."

You roll your eyes at his sass, but can't help smiling. This time, you're the one who leans in, capturing his lips with yours. The kiss is deeper, more certain. His hand slides into your hair as you press closer, and you feel him smile against your mouth.

"You know," he says softly, playing with a strand of your hair, "besides being one of my racing idols, you've also always been my crush."

You pull back slightly, raising an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Don't let it go to your head," he grins.

"Oh my god," you laugh. "You were such a fan! Did you have posters too?"

He groans, hiding his face in your shoulder. "I'm never telling you anything again."

"No, no, this is great," you tease. "I'm just a year and a half older than you, Colapinto, and you completely idolized me."

"I hate you," he mumbles into your shoulder.

"No you don't," you say confidently. "You just admitted you had a crush on me."

He lifts his head, eyes sparkling with that familiar mischief. "Still do, actually. Although the real you is much more annoying than poster you."

"Poster me didn't call you out on your coffee machine struggles."

"Poster you was much nicer," he agrees, but he's smiling as he leans in to kiss you again.

This kiss is slower, deeper, filled with everything you've both been holding back. When you finally pull apart, you rest your forehead against his.

"Been wanting to do that for a while," he admits softly.

"Even when I was avoiding you? Or giving you crap to defend my best friend's honor?"

"Especially then. Do you know how adorable you looked trying to pretend you didn't see me in the paddock?"

"Shut up," you laugh.

"Never," he grins, pulling you closer. "I have years of fan stories to make up for."

You kiss him again just to shut him up, but you can feel him smiling against your lips, and you think maybe, just maybe, this is exactly where you're meant to be.

"You're never going to let me live down the fan thing, are you?" he asks when you break apart.

"Not a chance," you smirk. "I bet Alex has pictures of you practicing those braids too."

"Don't you dare!"

But you're already reaching for your phone, laughing as he tries to grab it from you, and somehow you end up tangled together on the bed, both laughing too hard to care about anything else.

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You're halfway through your coffee when Franco appears, wearing his team polo and that signature grin that used to irritate you but now makes your stomach flutter. It's still surreal how much has changed - from despising him for taking Logan's seat, to avoiding him over your seat rumors, to… whatever this is now. He slides into the seat next to you, leaning in for a kiss. You quickly place a hand on his chest, pushing him back playfully.

"Easy there, hotshot," you tease. "Let's keep it professional."

"Professional?" He raises an eyebrow, that mischievous glint in his eyes. "Come on, don't be shy now. Not after last week."

You feel your cheeks warm at the memory. "Last week was different. We were alone."

"Oh, so that's the rule? Only when we're alone?" He leans closer, lowering his voice. "Should we discuss what else happened when we were alone?"

"Franco!" You swat his arm, but you're fighting a smile.

"What? I'm just saying, for someone who used to avoid me like I had the plague, you sure changed your tune."

"Yeah, well," you stir your coffee, trying to maintain your composure, "turns out you're not as annoying as I thought."

"High praise," he chuckles. "Remember when you wouldn't even look at me in driver briefings?"

"Remember when you replaced my best friend and then tried to steal my seat?"

"I didn't try to steal your seat!" he protests. "That was all media speculation."

Before you can respond, Max drops into the seat across from you, already looking amused at finding you two together.

"Well, well," he says, reaching for the coffee pot. "If it isn't my favorite teammate and her… what are we calling this now?"

You roll your eyes. "We're calling it none of Max's business."

"Everything is Max's business," Max says cheerfully. "Especially when said business involves my teammate getting cozy with the competition."

Franco's phone buzzes and his expression shifts slightly as he reads the message, and you catch that flicker of worry he's been trying to hide all weekend. The weight of it being potentially his last race in F1 has been hanging over both of you.

"Engineers?" you ask softly.

"Yeah," he sighs. "Last pre-race meeting of the season. Hopefully not my last ever," he adds, attempting a joke that falls flat.

You reach for his hand under the table, giving it a quick squeeze. "Hey, you've shown what you can do this year. The pace is there, the talent is there-"

"The results aren't," he cuts in, running his free hand through his hair. "DNF and crashes don't exactly scream 'keep me for next year.'"

"The car's been shit though," Max speaks up, "Everyone knows that. You've outqualified your teammate and scored points."

"Try telling that to the team principals," Franco says, attempting a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "Anyway, better go before they add 'chronically late' to my resume." He stands, leaning down to kiss your cheek. "See you later?"

"Of course," you say softly. "Good luck in the meeting."

Once Franco leaves, Max leans forward, "Okay, spill. Everything. Now."

"There's nothing to spill."

"Nothing to spill?" Max scoffs. "Last month you were convinced he was plotting to take your seat, and now he's kissing you goodbye at breakfast? That's not nothing."

"You don't need to know everything about my life, Max," you try to busy yourself with your coffee, that's pretty much cold by now.

"I'm the older brother you never wanted but got stuck with anyway, so I do need to know about these things."

You sigh, knowing he won't let this go. "Fine. After Qatar, things changed. We… spent time together."

"Spent time together?" Max wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

"Not like that!" you protest, then lower your voice. "Well, not just like that. We talked a lot. About everything again - the rumors, the misunderstandings, why I was so angry about Logan, and… I don't know. It's different now. Good different. When I'm with him, everything just feels…" you trail off, searching for the right words.

"Right?" Max supplies, his teasing tone softening.

"Yeah," you admit. "Which makes this whole situation even harder. If he doesn't get a seat…"

"Then you'll figure it out," Max says, "But let's not write him off yet. Season's not over until the checkered flag."

You nod, but can't help glancing at the door Franco left through. "You know what's ironic?" you say, turning back to Max. "A few months ago, I was worried about him taking my seat. Now I'd give anything for him to have one, anywhere on the grid."

Max smiles knowingly. "Amazing what a few kisses can do."

"It's not just that," you protest. "He deserves to be here. He's so talented-"

"And you're completely smitten," Max interrupts, grinning.

"Shut up," You throw a napkin at him. "I'm getting a new teammate next year," you declare.

"No you're not," Max laughs. "You love me." He pauses, suddenly looking both nervous and excited. "Actually… want to know a secret?"

Something in his tone makes you lean forward. "Always."

"Kelly's pregnant," he says, a huge grin spreading across his face. "We just found out last month"

You practically leap across the table to hug him, nearly knocking over both your coffees in the process. "Oh my god! Max! I'm going to be an auntie!"

He laughs, hugging you back. "Actually…" he pulls back slightly to look at you, "What do you think about being a godmother?"

Your eyes widen. "Are you serious?"

"Of course," he grins. "Who else would I trust to teach my kid how to properly terrorize the paddock?"

You feel tears welling up in your eyes. "I'm going to spoil them so much," you warn, hugging him again. "Like, an absolutely ridiculous amount."

"I know," he laughs. "That's kind of counting on it."

"Does anyone else know?"

"Just family for now," he says. "And you, obviously. Because you are family."

You're definitely crying now. "I hate you for making me cry before a race weekend."

"Sure you do," he grins. "Just like you hate Franco, right?"

You wipe your eyes, deciding to ignore his comment. "God, I can't believe you're going to be a dad!"

"Me neither," he admits, and there's something soft and vulnerable in his expression that makes your heart squeeze. "It's scary but… in a good way, you know?"

"You're going to be amazing," you tell him seriously. "The best dad ever."

His smile turns mischievous. "Just wait until Franco gets you pregnant-"

"And that's my cue to leave," you gather your things. "Congratulations again, future dad. I love you, even when you're the worst."

His laughter follows you out of the room. "Love you too, future godmother!"

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liked by maxverstappen1, francolapinto and 2,099,437 others

yourinstagram ABU DHABI WINNER! 🏆✨ still feels surreal to type those words. to win the last race of the season, after everything… no words can describe this feeling. thank you to every single person who never stopped believing in me, even when things got tough. to my incredible team - this one's for you. we did it! 🧡

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username1 SHE FUCKING DID IT

username2 first win of the season in the last race - poetic justice

username3 the way everyone doubted her at the start of the season and now look at her QUEEN BEHAVIOR

logansargeant YESSSS! That move was legendary! So proud of you!

username4 this feels so RIGHT

francolapinto Mi campeona 🖤 That last lap move was 🔥

↳ username1 IM CRYING OMFG

↳ username2 THEY'RE SO TOGETHER I DON'T MAKE THE RULES

username5 brb i'll be crying while i watch that video of her hugging franco

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You're still riding the high of your Abu Dhabi win as you unlock your apartment door. Your first win of the season, in the last race - it feels poetic, somehow. Like a final "fuck you" to everyone who doubted you, who questioned your seat, who spent the entire season speculating about your future.

The trophy sits in your bag, along with the champagne bottle Charles insisted you keep. Franco follows you in, still wearing that soft smile he's had since he watched you cross the finish line.

He's staying at your apartment since he doesn't have a place in Monaco and the now traditional drivers dinner is happening, after all you time together, inviting him over felt...natural.

The past few days have been a whirlwind - the podium, the celebrations, the multiple kisses stolen in your motorhome between media duties. The flight to Monaco where you both pretended to sleep but kept "accidentally" touching hands. It should feel fast, rushed, but somehow it just feels right.

"Still can't believe you pulled that move on the last lap," Franco says, dropping his bags by the door. "Even Max was impressed, I think you broke his brain a little."

"Speaking of broken, try not to destroy anything while you're here," you tease. "Some of us actually live in Monaco full-time."

Franco turns to you with mock offense. "When have I ever broken anything?"

"Do you want the list chronologically or alphabetically?" you raise an eyebrow. "Because I distinctly remember a certain incident with Lewis' scooter…"

"That was a manufacturing defect and you know it," he protests, moving closer.

"Sure it was," you laugh. "Just like the tablet in Singapore was a 'technical malfunction'?"

He's close enough now that you can smell his cologne, the same one that's been driving you crazy since Qatar. "You're never going to let that go, are you?"

"Never," you confirm, but your voice comes out softer than intended because he's looking at you the way he has been since that first kiss in his room - like you're something precious.

"Guest room's down the hall," you say quickly, trying to maintain some semblance of control. "Bathroom's across from it, you know the drill."

Franco raises an eyebrow, that mischievous glint in his eyes that you're starting to know too well. "You're really going to make me take the guest room? After all our bonding?"

"Bonding?" you scoff. "Is that what we're calling it?"

"Well, what would you call making out in your motorhome? And the plane bathroom? And-"

You cut him off by pressing your hand to his mouth. "Those were… moments of weakness."

He kisses your palm before moving your hand, and the simple gesture shouldn't make your heart race like it does. "Lots of moments."

"I was emotionally vulnerable," you argue weakly.

"Uh-huh," he steps closer, backing you against the wall. "And now?Are you emotionally vulnerable now?" His hands find your waist, and you try to ignore how right they feel there.

"I'm…" you start, but then he's kissing you, slow and deep, and you forget what you were going to say.

When he pulls back, you're both breathing heavily. "We should get ready for dinner," you manage.

"We should," he agrees, but kisses you again.

"Franco," you mumble against his lips. "We're already late."

"Five more minutes," he murmurs, trailing kisses down your neck.

It ends up being fifteen minutes before you finally push him away, your lips swollen and hair slightly messed up.

"Guest room," you point firmly. "Get changed."

He grins, stealing one last quick kiss before grabbing his bag. "Yes, boss."

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yourinstagram has added to their close friends story

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You arrive at Lewis' Monaco penthouse a fashionably acceptable ten minutes late, Franco's hand resting casually on your lower back as the elevator opens to the top floor. The space is already filled with the familiar chatter of your fellow drivers, the city lights twinkling through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

"Look who finally made it," Charles calls out, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "Got lost on the way from your apartment? It's only three blocks…"

"Traffic," you say smoothly, ignoring Franco's poorly concealed laugh beside you.

"Must have been terrible," Alex joins in, eyes twinkling. "Considering you live literally around the corner."

Lewis appears, saving you from having to respond. He hugs you warmly before turning to Franco with a grin. "No scooters allowed inside this time, mate."

"That was one time!" Franco protests as everyone laughs. "And it was definitely faulty manufacturing."

The evening flows easily, conversation and wine flowing freely as everyone celebrates the end of another season. You find yourself constantly aware of Franco's presence - the way he automatically hands you your favorite wine, how his hand finds yours under the table, the soft looks he gives you when he thinks no one's watching.

(They're all watching. These are racing drivers - subtlety isn't their strong suit.)

"Get together, everyone!" you call out later, holding up your phone. "I want a picture."

There's the usual chaos of twenty-odd drivers trying to arrange themselves, plenty of shoving and laughing as everyone finds their spot. Franco ends up behind you, his chest pressed against your back, hands resting lightly on your waist.

"Alright, someone else take it," Lando announces. "YN's too busy making heart eyes at Franco to frame it properly."

"I am not-"

"You kind of are," Pierre interrupts with a grin.

"Just like in Abu Dhabi," Oscar adds. "And the flight home. And baggage claim. And-"

"I hate all of you."

The night continues with more conversation, more drinks, and constant teasing from your friends. Even Charles joins in, muttering something about "finally dealing with all that sexual tension in the briefings."

By the time you leave, you're both pleasantly tipsy, walking back to your apartment with slightly unsteady steps. The moment your door closes behind you, the atmosphere shifts.

"So," he says finally, stepping closer. "About that guest room…"

"What about it?" you ask, but you're already moving toward him.

"I'm thinking," he cups your face with one hand, "that it would be a shame to use it."

"Would it?"

"Mhmm," he's close enough now that you can feel his breath on your lips. "Especially when the winner deserves proper celebrations."

"Or maybe you're just being a horndog," you tease, even as your hands find their way to his chest.

"Maybe," he concedes. "Or maybe I just can't stop thinking about kissing you."

Your breath catches. "You've already kissed me plenty today."

"Not enough," he murmurs, then proves his point by capturing your lips with his.

The kiss is different from all the others. Those were stolen moments, quick and heated. This is slower, deeper, like he's trying to memorize every second.

"Don't make me take the guest room," he murmurs against your lips.

You pretend to think about it, even as your hands slip under his shirt. "Well, since you asked so nicely…"

"I can be very nice," he grins, then kisses you again, backing you toward your bedroom.

"Prove it," you challenge.

The guest room remains empty that night. And many nights after.

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liked by pierregasly, francolapinto and 2,044,387 others

yourinstagram i love my little dysfunctional family !! yes i'm the one behind the camera

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username1 THIS IS LEGENDARY

username3 FRANCO'S FACE ??? DEVASTATED BC HIS GIRL IS NOT NEXT TO HIM

lewishamilton Always family ❤️

oscarpiastri Never sitting between you and your lover boy again..

↳ username1 HUH??

↳ username2 oscar spill the deets PLEASE

↳ logansargeant to the gc NOW

↳ username3 LET ME INNNNN

↳ username4 im crying

↳ yourinstagram i hate you both

francolapinto ❤️

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yn's biggest fans groupchat

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You're curled up on your couch, watching the lights of Monaco twinkle through your window as snow falls softly outside. Franco's just finished unpacking his bags, having arrived from Argentina an hour ago. The past weeks without him felt strangely empty, even though you'd been surrounded by family for Christmas.

"Mama keeps asking about the foods I mentioned you cook," Franco says, settling beside you with a grin. "She's convinced I'm making it up."

"Did you tell her it's mostly pasta and those empanadas you taught me to make?"

"Si, but she says my standards have dropped since moving to Europe," he laughs, stealing some of your blanket. "How was your family?"

"Good. Dad's still buzzing about Abu Dhabi. He's watched the replay about fifty times, especially that last lap battle with Max," you grin, throwing your legs over his lap. "How was home?"

"Hot," he sighs contentedly. "Really hot. Nothing like a proper Argentinian summer."

"Meanwhile I was freezing in London," you poke his side. "Speaking of which… don't you have some news to share?"

He raises an eyebrow. "How did you-"

"Carlos texted me. He's terrible at keeping secrets."

Franco runs a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture you've come to recognize. "I signed with Williams. As their reserve driver for next season, there's talk about 2026, but nothing concrete yet."

"Franco!" you exclaim, throwing your arms around him. "That's amazing!"

He hugs you back, letting out a relieved laugh. "You think so?"

"Of course I do!" you pull back to look at him. "Williams is doing great things, and with Carlos and Alex there…" you trail off, seeing something in his expression. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Nothing bad," he assures quickly. "Just… I'll be based in England a lot. For simulator work and development."

"Oh," you say quietly, understanding dawning. You'd gotten used to having him here, in your space, in the paddock, in your life.

"Hey," he tilts your chin up. "It's not that far. And I'll still be at all the races. Plus," his lips quirk up, "I hear Nice has a pretty good airport."

You can't help but smile. "True. And I suppose I could be convinced to visit Grove occasionally."

"Only occasionally?" he teases.

"Well, I am very busy and important," you say loftily, making him laugh.

His eyes drop to your lips. "I'm sure you can save some time for me," he murmurs before closing the distance between you.

The kiss is soft and familiar, like coming home after a long trip. When you pull back, he's wearing that small smile that always makes your stomach flip.

You settle back against him, comfortable silence falling between you. "Talk to me about next season," he says eventually. "What's going on in that head of yours?"

"Honestly? I'm nervous," you admit. "Abu Dhabi was amazing, but what if it was just luck? What if I can't do it again?"

"The same way Suzuka was luck? And Singapore? And that insane qualifying in Baku?" Franco shifts to look at you properly, "You've been fast all season. Abu Dhabi just proved what everyone already knew."

"Smooth," you laugh, then remember something. "Oh! Speaking of next year - what are you doing for New Year's Eve?"

"Nothing yet. Why?"

"Logan's throwing a party in Florida for his birthday. Want to come?"

Franco hesitates. "Won't that be…"

"What? Weird because you stole his seat?" you tease, making him groan.

"I thought we cleared that up months ago," he protests.

"We did, I just like messing with you," you grin. "Come on, it'll be fun. There'll be cake."

“You know my weakness,” he sighs dramatically. “Does this mean I get to kiss you at midnight?”

“Bold of you to assume you’ll be my midnight kiss,” you tease, even as you lean into him.

“No? Planning on kissing someone else?” he raises an eyebrow, hands settling on your waist.

“Maybe. Logan might have a hot friend…”

"Terrible," he murmurs against your lips. "You're terrible."

"You like it," you whisper back, just before he kisses you again.

When you finally break apart, he's already reaching for the remote. "Want to watch Qatar?"

You groan, but you're smiling. "I hate you."

"No you don't," he says confidently, pulling up the race highlights.

And as he starts his terrible commentary, making you laugh despite yourself, you think about how easy this is - whatever this is between you. No labels, no pressure, just… this.

Outside, Monaco continues to sparkle under the falling snow, but in here, with Franco's warmth beside you and his voice in your ear pointing out "that brilliant move you did in turn 4" for the hundredth time, you think maybe some things don't need defining to be perfect.

Plus, you already know who your midnight kiss is going to be. Not that you'll tell him that - his ego's big enough as it is.

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liked by username1, username2 and 12,870 others

f1gossip Spotted: F1's power couple enjoying a day out in Monaco! Franco Colapinto and YN were seen strolling around today, looking very cozy! The pair, who have been subject to dating rumors seemed to have no interest in hiding their relationship anymore.

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username1 THE FUUUUUCK

username2 i don't like this..

username3 FRANCO GET AWAYYYY she's going to distract him

username4 why is this lowkey powerful

username5 THIS PLOT TWIST OMFG

username6 i thought they hated each other ??

username7 oh how the tables have turned

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Music pulses from Logan's Miami beach house as you and Franco make your way up the palm-lined driveway. The December air is surprisingly warm, fairy lights twinkling in every tree and reflecting off the pool visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Your hand is loosely intertwined with Franco's, something that still gives you butterflies even after weeks of... whatever this is between you.

"Birthday boy!" you call out as Logan spots you from the entrance, where he's greeting guests in a ridiculous party hat and an even more ridiculous Hawaiian shirt.

"If it isn't my best friend and the guy who stole my seat," Logan grins, pulling you into a tight hug before turning to Franco with an exaggerated suspicious look that quickly breaks into a genuine smile. "Good to see you, man."

"Happy birthday," Franco offers with a grin, accepting Logan's enthusiastic handshake-turned-hug. "Nice shirt."

"Right? YN said it was terrible, but what does she know about fashion?"

"Hey!" you protest, but you're laughing. "I have great taste."

Logan's eyes drift meaningfully to your joined hands. "Clearly," he smirks, making you blush and Franco chuckle. "Drinks are everywhere, food's by the pool, try not to fall in."

"That was one time," you mutter as Logan gets pulled away by more arriving guests.

Franco raises an eyebrow. "One time?"

"Don't ask. Come on, I need a drink before I tell you that story."

After getting drinks, you find yourself drifting between groups, Franco's hand a constant presence at the small of your back or linked with yours. It's nice, you think, not having to overthink every interaction, every touch. Here, away from the paddock and the cameras, you can just... be.

It's about an hour into the party when Logan finds you again, now sporting two party hats and what looks suspiciously like glitter on his cheek.

"Stinks! Just the person I wanted to see," he announces, dragging you away from where Franco is deep in conversation with Alex. "Back in five," he tells Franco with an exaggerated wink that makes you roll your eyes.

"Subtle," you comment as Logan leads you to the makeshift bar.

"Please, subtle went out the window when you two showed up holding hands like teenagers at prom," he snorts, mixing drinks with practiced ease. "Speaking of which..."

"Don't start," you warn, but you're fighting a smile.

"Me? Start something? Never," he puts a hand to his chest in mock offense. "I just find it interesting that the same person who spent three hours ranting to me about 'that arrogant Argentine who stole your seat' is now making heart eyes at him across my party."

"You're impossible."

"And you're happy," he says softly, his teasing tone giving way to something more sincere. "Like, really happy. I haven't seen you like this in… well, ever."

You look down at your drink, feeling your cheeks warm. "Yeah, well…"

"Hey," Logan nudges your shoulder. "It's a good thing. You deserve this, YN. Someone who gets you, who understands the pressure and the crazy schedule and still looks at you like you hung the moon."

"He doesn't-"

"He absolutely does. Trust me, I've been watching him watch you all night. It's disgustingly cute."

"I'm kind of scared, Logan," you look down at your hands nervously, "Six months ago, I hated him. And now I can't picture myself apart from him. It's all happening really fast and I'm not quite sure when everything shifted, but I feel like there's no going back now. And that's terrifies me."

"Stinks," Logan says gently, "you didn't hate him. You were hurt because of how everything went down with the seat, and you projected that onto him. I get being scared. This sport… it complicates things. But I've seen how he looks at you and how you look at him. It's okay to have feelings for him."

"How do you always know what to say?" you look up at him.

"Because I'm your best friend," he squeezes your shoulder. "Now go get your man. And please kiss him at midnight so I can win the bet with Alex."

"You bet on us?!"

"The whole grid did. I have fifty bucks riding on tonight!"

Later, as midnight approaches, you find yourself on the beach with Franco, fairy lights and stars twinkling above. Your conversation with Logan keeps playing in your mind, making you fidgety.

"You okay?" Franco asks softly, touching your arm.

"FIVE MINUTES!" someone shouts from the house.

"I have feelings for you," you blurt out. "Like, real feelings. And I know it's fast and complicated and I was horrible to you at first because I was hurt about the seat thing but then you were so nice and understanding and you brought me coffee after bad practice sessions and you defended me to the press and you make me laugh even when I'm trying to be mad and your accent gets thicker when you're tired which is unfairly adorable and-"

"THREE MINUTES!"

"-and sometimes I catch you looking at me in debriefs and it makes me forget what I'm saying and Oscar keeps making these knowing faces at us and I pretend to be annoyed but actually I kind of like it and-"

"SIXTY SECONDS!"

"-and I know this could complicate everything but I can't stop thinking about you and the way you smile when you see me in the morning and how you remember how I like my coffee and-"

"TEN! NINE! EIGHT!"

"-and maybe this is crazy but I really really like you and I know we should probably talk about what this means for next season but-"

"FOUR! THREE!"

"-and I just needed you to know-"

"TWO! ONE!"

Franco cuts off your rambling with a kiss, one hand cupping your face while the other pulls you closer. You melt into him as fireworks explode overhead, your heart racing for reasons that have nothing to do with the celebration around you.

When he pulls back, he's wearing that soft smile that always makes your stomach flip. "You're so cute when you rant."

"I don't rant," you protest weakly.

"Mi amor, you just spent ten minutes listing all the things you like about me, including my accent."

"Shut up."

He laughs, pressing his forehead to yours. "I want to be with you, YN. Officially, properly, no more undefined territory. I want everyone to know that you're mine and I'm yours. I want morning coffees and post-race celebrations and quiet moments like this. I want all of it, with you."

"Yeah?" you whisper, hardly daring to believe it.

"Yeah," he confirms, brushing his thumb across your cheek. "I'm crazy about you, in case my terrible attempts at flirting haven't made that obvious."

"Your flirting isn't terrible."

He kisses you again, laughing against your lips. "So… is that a yes?"

You pretend to think about it. "I don't know, Logan's friend is looking pretty good tonight…"

"Terrible," he murmurs, pulling you impossibly closer. "You're terrible."

"You like it," you smile, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"I like everything about you."

Your heart skips. "Everything?"

"Everything," he confirms. "Even your terrible taste in coffee."

You laugh, bright and happy, before pulling him down for another kiss. Around you, the party continues, music and waves and distant fireworks creating a perfect backdrop to this moment. When you finally break apart, you're both breathless and smiling.

"Happy New Year," you murmur.

"The happiest," he agrees, and as he leans in again, you think that maybe some feelings are worth being scared of, especially when they lead to moments like this.

Plus, you just won Logan a bet. Not that you'll tell him that.

[dracoflaco]

this is too sweet jdhsjshsjs

grid kids or cupids?— mv1

smau + written blurbs

max verstappen x !driver reader

2025 rookies x !platonic driver reader

your ex cheated. you dumped him. simple, clean, no tears—just a block, a race win, and an innocent instagram post. you are over it. but your rookies? not so much.

somehow, they’ve formed a secret matchmaking club and are now trying to set you up with half the grid. you know. max knows. (he’s your very smitten, very amused boyfriend.) but neither of you say a word.

because watching them try? is way too entertaining.

fc : luvstruck on ig (love a tattooed baddie as a face claim)

original request is here.

(a/n) : this was so much fun for me. i hope you all enjoy! love youuuu

—

yourusername

liked by kimi.antonelli, olliebearman, isackhadjar and 4,550,700 others.

yourusername : his loss.

—

view 285,003 other comments.

username000 : did she finally leave that ugly demonic man?????

liked by yourusername

↳ username1 : oh thank god. we got our baddie back🙏🏻

liked by yourusername

yourbff : man just couldn’t handle having a baddie. the funny thing is he can’t watch the race without seeing your name or face 😏

liked by yourusername

↳ yourusername : he shall never know peace.

liked by yourbff

yoursister : i can hear the streets callin’🧏‍♀️

liked by yourusername

↳ yourusername : call me pluto cuz im alr in them

liked by yoursister

↳ yoursister : where are your children? its rare i make it here before they do.

liked by yourusername

↳ yourusername : oh they will be here within like the next 10 seconds

liked by yoursister

↳ olliebearman : heyyyy so what’s his address? so i can send a hitman.

liked by yoursister, yourbff and yourusername

isackhadjar : if i see that man IT IS ON SIGHT.

liked by yourusername

lando : if i were him id never leave the house ever again, not just because of the 6 angry children at my door but just out of sheer embarrassment from what i fumbled.

liked by yourusername

kimi.antonelli : im small but i can bite ankles. he is a dead man. im going to kill him

liked by yourusername

gabrielbortoleto_ : yn i cannot handle these vague captions. pls answer the group chat. im spiraling and about to hire someone to do horrible things.

liked by yourusername

↳ isackhadjar : i feel sick to my stomach.

liked by yourusername

↳ olliebearman : i just threw up

liked by yourusername

↳ kimi.antonelli : i am pacing

liked by yourusername

↳ jackdoohan : just threw my phone across the room

liked by yourusername

↳ yourusername : guys, im fine. truly. it was for the best. i will call you all later!

↳ kimi.antonelli : yn did he hurt you?? i destroy his entire bloodline

↳ isackhadjar : stop lying. you are ignoring our texts. you never do.

↳ olliebearman : ok well he hurt you so we will just find him and kill him. its all taken care of

↳ gabrielbortoleto_ : cannot believe you are just ghosting your six emotionally unstable children.

username07 : the rookies falling apart in the comments while yn is unfazed is taking me OUT.

alex_albon : he peaked in high school and drives a toyota 💀 and now fumbled an f1 driver…him being him is punishment enough

liked by yourusername

↳ yourusername : i can’t with you 💀

oscarpiastri : absolutely no clue what happened but i instantly take your side. he is a dick.

liked by yourusername

alexandrasaintmleux : he fumbled so i could have you😇

liked by yourusername

↳ yourusername : mmm yes gimme (making grabby hands at you)

liked by alexandrasaintmleux

olliebearman : yn we are coming over

↳ kimi.antonelli : you let us in or we break the door down

↳ yourusername : im sure that breaking and entering is already somewhere on oliver’s crime list so lets not add to it. come on over kids.

↳ gabrielbortoleto_ : YAYYYYYYYY

↳ jackdoohan : on my way! (already outside of your apartment)

↳ isackhadjar : i have been sitting in the hallway since this was posted.

↳ yourusername : get in here🙄

username15 : these kids love their grid mum 🤧

—

flashback

You hadn’t expected the night to end in a breakup. But maybe you should’ve.

It started with his phone—left unlocked, screen facing up, buzzing like a warning. You hadn’t meant to look. But you did. A message preview lit up like a punch to the chest.

last night was the best;) miss you already xx

You didn’t open it. You didn’t need to. The way your stomach dropped told you everything you weren’t ready to admit.

You sat there for a few seconds, staring at the screen. His voice filtered in from the bathroom—some off-key humming, clueless and careless. It made you feel numb. Or maybe free. You weren’t sure which yet.

When he walked back in, grinning like he still had you, you held the phone up.

“You should really be more careful with your passwords,” you said calmly.

His expression dropped. “Babe, it’s not what it looks like—”

“It looks like you’re sleeping with someone who isn’t me.”

You didn’t yell. Didn’t cry. Didn’t even let him finish his half-assed explanation. You just grabbed your heels, your pride, and your keys, and walked out the door like it owed you nothing.

You texted your girls on the way out.

club. now. i finally left the bum.

By midnight, you were wrapped in black mesh and revenge-red lipstick.

The bass vibrated through your bones, and the margarita in your hand burned in the best way. Your friends were already dancing like the world was ending, and for the first time in months, you felt alive.

And then you saw him. Max.

Standing at the bar with a half-finished drink and that usual unreadable expression—until he looked up and saw you.

His eyes flicked over you once, slow and deliberate, before his lips curled into the smallest smirk. He lifted his drink in silent acknowledgment, and you raised your brow like, Don’t test me. But he didn’t walk away.

No, he walked toward you—unhurried, completely sure of himself, like he’d been waiting for you to show up all night.

“You good?” he asked, leaning in just enough to be heard over the music.

You shrugged, grinning. “Better than ever.”

He studied you for a second longer. “You look free. Like you finally let go of that one thing that was dragging you down.”

You met his gaze head-on. “Maybe I did. But I don’t regret it.”

Something about your voice—clear, certain, maybe a little dangerous—made him nod slowly. Like he knew that version of you. Like he’d met her before in himself.

He didn’t say anything for a moment, just offered his hand. “Come dance with me.”

And God help you, you said yes. One song bled into another, and suddenly you were dancing like your skin was on fire, like the world couldn’t touch you anymore. Max wasn’t just keeping up—he matched you. Step for step, stare for stare, like the two of you spoke the same language in a rhythm only you could hear.

You didn’t remember leaning in. You didn’t remember whose hand touched whose waist first.

But you do remember the way his lips brushed yours, soft and warm and slow at first—like he was asking a question. And how you answered with a kiss that tasted like tequila and freedom.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, Max just looked at you with that same amused smirk and said, “Definitely his loss.”

You laughed. You weren’t just fine. You were starting over.

—

The sunlight hit your face before the memory did. Warm. Gentle. Relentless.

You blinked a few times, groggy and still wrapped in that heavy limbed softness that comes from too many drinks and not enough regrets. The room smelled faintly of something distinctly Max—clean, expensive, and just a little smug.

You rolled over. He was already awake.

Lying there, one arm folded behind his head, chest bare, the sheets dangerously low on his hips. His other hand held his phone, which he casually tossed aside when he noticed you looking.

“Morning,” he said, voice rough, sleepy.

You groaned into the pillow. “Tell me we didn’t do something stupid.”

Max tilted his head. “Define stupid.”

Your eyes narrowed. He smiled.

“We danced,” he said. “You kissed me. Twice. And then you tried to start a debate about tire compounds in the elevator.”

You winced. “Sounds like me.”

He laughed under his breath, that low rumble sending a shiver down your spine.

“But no,” he added, softer this time. “You were upset. So I brought you back here. You changed into my shirt, stole all the covers, and fell asleep with your face in my shoulder.”

You blinked. “I didn’t kiss you again?”

He hesitated. “You almost did. Then you said something about how ‘this doesn’t count when you’re drunk’ and knocked out cold.”

You groaned again. “God. Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he said, without missing a beat. “It was the best night I’ve had in a long time.”

You looked over at him, eyes soft. “You sure? I was kind of a mess.”

Max shrugged. “You were real. That’s what I want to see.”

For a second, the air stilled between you. No jokes. No tension. Just quiet understanding. You’d kissed him the night before thinking it was a one time thing—sparked by adrenaline, tequila, and heartbreak. But lying here now, in his bed, wearing his shirt and breathing in his space.

He shifted, propping himself up on one elbow. “So… breakfast?”

You blinked. “You’re offering to feed me now?”

“I’m offering to bribe you with pancakes so you don’t ghost me later.”

You smirked, climbing out of bed and grabbing your phone.

“I don’t ghost,” you said, pausing by the door. “But fair warning—once I post a thirst trap, our children are going to lose their minds.”

Max grinned, already reaching for his shirt. “Perfect. Let them panic.”

And as you headed to the bathroom, still wearing nothing but his t-shirt and a smirk, you realized something—You really, really didn’t miss your ex.

—

present day

It’s been a few weeks since that night. Since tequila and heartbreak and Max Verstappen.

You’ve seen him a few times since then—quiet dinners in hotel rooms, lingering handholds between debriefs, shared glances across the paddock that made your stomach flip like a rookie on their debut lap. It’s easy, exciting, safe in the strangest way. No pressure, no labels.

And somehow, for once, no noise. Just the two of you, figuring it out behind closed doors. Which is exactly why you should’ve known that post would send the entire grid into DEFCON 1. Because you barely have time to finish brushing your teeth when it sounds like your whole front door is being broken down.

You freeze, toothbrush halfway to your mouth. Then—

DING DING DING DING.

“YN OPEN THE DOOR RIGHT NOW.”

You peek through the peephole. And there they are. All six of them. Kimi. Ollie. Isack. Jack. Franco. Gabriel.

Every last one of them in complete disarray. Jack’s hair is still wet. Gabriel’s holding a box of oreo’s, one stuffed into his mouth. Franco has absolutely no shoes on.

You blink. “Good morning?”

“You can’t just post that and disappear,” Ollie blurts.

“Disrespectful,” Franco agrees. “Honestly rude.”

“You owe us answers,” Jack adds, pushing inside like this is a crime scene. “Did he cheat? Did you dump him? Do I need to start training for violence?”

“I’m already in shape for violence,” Isack mutters.

“I brought Oreo’s,” Gabriel says, holding them up as a gift of peace.

Kimi just crosses his arms and stares you down. “What happened.”

You close the door behind them and sigh.

“Nothing crazy,” you say, voice steady. “I found out he wasn’t who I thought he was. So I ended it.”

You head to the kitchen and start making coffee. Like this isn’t the opening scene of a Netflix special where the 2025 F1 Rookies begin a manhunt.

“But… are you okay?” Franco asks gently.

You turn and smile. “Honestly? I’m great. It’s probably the healthiest decision I’ve made in years.”

Kimi leans against the counter. “You don’t have to be fine right now, you know.”

You sip your coffee and shrug. “I am fine. Genuinely. I don’t miss him. There’s nothing to cry over.”

There’s a beat of silence. Six sets of eyes narrow, exchanging looks like they’ve rehearsed this. You can feel the shift in the air. The whisper of an unspoken plan forming. But no one says it. No one says “we’re going to find you someone better.” No one says “we’ve already made a list.”

Instead, Gabriel sits beside you. “Okay. Well, if you’re fine… we’re still staying for brunch.”

“Obviously,” Franco says.

“Non-negotiable,” Isack adds.

Ollie leans forward, fake-casual. “So… no one new in the picture yet?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Are you taking attendance for my love life now?”

He shrugs. “Just making conversation.”

You laugh. “Well, no. There’s nothing to report. I’m enjoying being single.”

Half-true. You take another sip of coffee and hide your smirk. They all nod slowly. Quiet. Suspicious. Too quiet.

Gabriel’s already texting someone under the table. Jack’s typing into his Notes app. Franco looks like he’s trying to remember every eligible man on the grid. Kimi is definitely plotting a background check. You say nothing.

Because letting them believe you’re freshly single, emotionally vulnerable, and in need of saving? Is way too fun to correct.

—

The brunch was meant to be a quick thing. A little comfort, a little check-in, maybe a pastry or two.

But somewhere between the third round of pancakes and Kimi yelling at Jack for putting ketchup on eggs, it turned into something else.

You knew you were doomed the moment Ollie declared, mouth full of toast.

“You’re not allowed to be alone today. We’re going with you.”

You’d laughed. Thought it was a joke. But now it’s two hours later, and they’re all still here. You walk into the training facility like usual, hoodie up, bag slung over your shoulder, calm and collected. Behind you? Six men trailing in a chaotic single file like toddlers on a leash.

Gabriel’s rapidly texting on his phone. Franco’s wearing sunglasses indoors. Jack’s humming. Isack is trying to arm wrestle Kimi mid walk. Ollie keeps speed walking ahead of you, then backpedaling like a mall cop on edge.

“You guys don’t actually have to stay,” you say for the fifth time, mildly exasperated.

“Yes, we do,” Ollie insists. “What if your ex tries to talk to you again?”

“I blocked him.”

“What if he makes a burner account?”

“I blocked five burner accounts.”

Kimi snorts. “I told you she’s too smart for him.”

Isack stretches like he’s preparing for a UFC match. “Still. You’re emotionally delicate right now.”

You raise an eyebrow. “I’m emotionally fine.”

“She’s in denial,” Jack whispers. “Classic phase two.”

You groan, swiping your pass at the entrance and holding the door open for your band of feral ducklings.

—

You’re halfway through your warm-up laps when it happens. You jog around the corner of the facility and pass by a small group of guys—some local trainers and junior athletes. You nod politely at them, earbuds in, barely noticing.

But they notice you. One of them—tall, maybe twenty-five—stares for a second too long. Not creepy. Just curious. And apparently, that’s enough to start World War III. Because from across the room, you hear a voice yell.

“HEY. EYES UP, BRO. THAT’S MY MOM.”

You stop in your tracks. Spin around. Ollie is storming toward the guy with a hand on his chest like he’s about to deliver the sermon of the year.

The poor guy looks so confused. “I—what?”

“She’s a national treasure,” Ollie says, dead serious. “You don’t ogle national treasures.”

You jog back over, cheeks already burning from embarrassment. “Ollie. He just wanted an autograph.”

“No he didn’t.”

“Yes. He’s holding a pen.”

The guy timidly raises his hand. “I just wanted to say hi. I’m a fan.”

Ollie glares. You sigh and pat the fan on the shoulder. “It’s okay. I appreciate it.”

Behind you, Isack leans toward Franco. “Should we start screening everyone she interacts with?”

“Already doing it,” Franco says, typing something into his phone. “I have a form.”

—

By mid-afternoon, they’ve followed you to recovery. Then to the simulator. Then back to your place, where they claim they’re “just checking your locks.” Kimi installs a door camera. Jack offers to sleep on your couch. Gabriel keeps offering to cook for you.

Every time you so much as look at your phone, someone leans over your shoulder.

Ollie squints, head on my shoulder. “Who’s that?”

You sigh and chuckle. “My nutritionist.”

Franco looks up at you. “Okay. What’s his intention?”

”My nutrition.”

Eventually, you collapse onto the couch, arms folded, finally fed up.

“Guys,” you say flatly, “I’m not a baby deer in a storm. I am fine. No one needs to be screened. I don’t need a 24-hour security team. And I definitely don’t need—”

Ding. Your phone lights up. A message from Max.

You alive or are they still holding you hostage?

You smile at the screen—just a little. Just enough for Isack to notice.

He leans forward. “Who was that.”

“Just… a friend.”

Six heads whip around.

“WHO.”

You roll your eyes and stand. “I’m going to shower. Please, for the love of god, do not follow me.”

They groan like they’re being abandoned on a battlefield. And as you shut the bathroom door behind you, you hear Jack whisper.

“We need to escalate. Operation Boyfriend starts now.”

—

f1gossipgirls

785,090 likes.

f1gossipgirls : Mercedes driver YN LN made her first paddock appearance since her rumored breakup — and if anyone’s heartbroken, it’s definitely not her. Looking radiant and unbothered, she was welcomed with a big hug from teammate Kimi Antonelli and closely tailed by Isack Hadjar, who appeared glued to her side all day.

The real kicker? Her full squad of rookie ducklings followed her everywhere — from the garage to the grid walk to the drivers parade, forming what can only be described as a personal security detail (or cult? unclear). But we love this new and radiant Grid Mum! 

—

view 185,090 other comments.

username000 : kimi hugging her like a baby koala was not on my 2025 bingo card but i’ll take it

username00 : ollie: “she doesn’t need us” also ollie: breathing down the neck of anyone who looks at her for more than 0.2 seconds 😭

username0 : franco, gabriel, jack, ollie, kimi, and isack acting like sons to a woman only a few years older than them… peak formula 1 content

username1 : Grid Mum is such an accurate title like they would all FOLLOW HER INTO BATTLE 😭

username5 : i’ve never been more proud of a woman i’ve never met in my LIFE. she won. she’s glowing. she has six rookies as her army. iconic behavior only.

—

The date with Carlos was scheduled with precision.

Ollie booked the restaurant himself, despite forgetting to ask whether you were allergic to seafood. Isack made a shared Google Doc of outfit suggestions. Franco literally coached Carlos on what not to say during the car ride there. Gabriel told you to “just act natural,” which was rich coming from someone who panics ordering coffee.

Carlos, for his part, handled it like a champ.

“You know they sent me a PDF,” he tells you, raising an eyebrow as the waiter pours wine.

You blink. “A PDF?”

He nods, fighting a smile. “Title was ‘So You Think You Can Date YN.’”

You nearly choke on your water. “I swear to God.”

He grins. “Very detailed. They had a whole section on things not to mention. Like your ex. Or 2019 qualifying in Monaco.”

“Fair,” you say, smirking.

To his credit, Carlos is very good at this. Charming, confident, a little teasing, but never pushy. He asks about your training, your favorite circuits, the meaning behind the small tattoo on your wrist. He compliments your eyes like he means it.

And for a second, you let yourself lean into it. Until you spot them. Behind Carlos, tucked into a booth near the corner?

The Ducklings.

Poorly disguised in sunglasses, hoodies, and baseball caps—like a weird boyband on the run.

Jack has a menu held upside down. Gabriel is clearly filming on his phone. Ollie is wearing a fake moustache. Franco waves when you make eye contact. Kimi sits with his arms crossed like a bodyguard. And Isack’s just… staring at Carlos. Like he wants to  wrestle him across the table.

You bite back a laugh. Carlos follows your gaze, glancing over his shoulder. He turns back, grinning.

“Should we tell them I saw them an hour ago?”

“No,” you say, sipping your wine. “Let them have their fun.”

He raises his glass. “To the worst spies in F1 history.”

—

You don’t know how they convinced Pierre to do this. Maybe it was Franco’s charm. Maybe it was the rookie group chat descending into madness after “Carlos Date Day.” Or maybe Pierre’s just here for the chaos, as always.

Either way, here you are. Dress. Dinner. Dim lighting. And Pierre, in an offensively good shirt, holding out a chair like he was born for this.

“I must say,” he smirks, “the moment they approached me with the idea, I said finally. Someone’s letting me take the prettiest driver on the grid out.”

You snort. “Do you use that line often?”

He grins, absolutely unapologetic. “Only when it’s true.”

You sit, trying not to smile too much. The restaurant is all low lighting and flickering candles—Pierre’s choice, obviously. He orders a bottle of wine in French, and the waiter actually blushes. You already regret letting Franco be in charge of the location.

“So,” you say, narrowing your eyes playfully, “what did the Ducklings promise you?”

“Ah,” he leans back dramatically, “they said if I sweep you off your feet, I get Kimi’s sim time for the month.”

You blink. “That’s… weirdly generous.”

“I know.” He raises his glass. “They’re getting desperate.”

You clink. “They are insane.”

“Insanely devoted to you,” he corrects.

You pause. Let that sit. Because he’s not wrong. And that’s when you spot them. The Ducklings. At it again.

Ollie and Isack behind the wine rack. Kimi pretending to be a server with an apron and a scowl. Jack crouching behind a decorative plant that is way too small. Gabriel and Franco sitting two tables over with fake menus covering their faces, whispering like spies.

You sigh into your wine. “They are so bad at hiding.”

Pierre glances over, raises an eyebrow, and smirks. “Should we give them something to talk about?”

You lean forward, amused. “Like what?”

He doesn’t answer. Just raises a brow and slowly reaches across the table to take your hand, smooth and steady. In the background, someone gasps audibly. Definitely Isack. Pierre doesn’t flinch.

“They need to believe I’m a threat,” he says lowly, thumb brushing your knuckles. “Otherwise, what’s the fun?”

You shake your head, trying not to laugh. “You’re dangerous.”

“I’m French,” he says with a wink. “Same thing.”

—

over with the rookies…

“HE’S HOLDING HER HAND. HE’S HOLDING HER HAND.” Ollie panics into his little earpiece.

Isack sighs. “Deploying emotional damage protocol. Permission to interfere?”

Kimi sets the glass of water down at the table he is pretending to serve. “Negative. We observe. We do not assassinate.”

Gabriel smiles from behind the menu. “She just looks so pretty. I wouldn’t be able to let go either.”

Franco starts panicking and fanning himself with said menu. “Guys. She’s smiling.”

Jack puts his head down. “It’s Carlos all over again. This is a spiral.”

Ollie face palms. “I told you we should’ve gone with Alex first. He would’ve been soft. Safe. Pierre has an agenda.”

—

Pierre’s still holding your hand when you laugh—genuine and loud and a little tipsy. The date has been fun, even if it feels like an elaborate school play. He’s charming, flirty, just the right amount of dangerous. But still…

Not the one who sent you a photo of your coffee order this morning. Not the one who smirks every time the rookies panic. Not the one who hasn’t stopped texting you versions of “good luck surviving them” all day.

You finish dessert—chocolate tart and rookie glares—and stand with Pierre as the waiter brings the bill. He leans close, lips brushing your cheek.

“Merci, chérie,” he murmurs, warm and quiet. “This was fun.”

And it was. But the second you step outside and the rookies swarm you, dramatic as ever—

Ollie checks you over quickly, holding your arms. “ARE YOU OKAY? DID HE POISON YOU WITH COMPLIMENTS?”

Isack rushes over, out of breath. “DO YOU HAVE EMOTIONAL WHIPLASH??”

Gabriel reaches up and brushes your hair. “Did he touch your hair???”

You just laugh, shrugging them off as you walk to the car. Because even though Pierre was perfect on paper— He wasn’t Max. And maybe the rookies haven’t figured it out yet.

—

You were promised a casual night.

“Low pressure,” Gabriel said.

“Light-hearted,” Jack promised.

“Just Alex,” Franco winked. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Famous last words.  Because ten minutes into sitting across from Alex Albon at a cozy Thai restaurant — one he picked himself — you clock all six rookies sitting in a booth across the room in matching black hoodies like they’re in a rogue choir.

Alex leans in, smiling wide as he watches you clock them. “So. We’re ignoring the Secret Service detail?”

“Apparently,” you deadpan. “Their idea of ‘stealth’ is coordinated outfits and Jack holding a menu upside down.”

Alex chuckles, offering you a piece of spring roll with his chopsticks. “I’ll admit, I kind of love the chaos. Makes me feel like I’m in a sitcom.”

You grin, accepting it. “Is this their idea of soft-launching us?”

“Please,” Alex says, mock offended. “If I was soft-launching you, it’d be on a boat, golden hour lighting, maybe a quirky caption.”

You laugh out loud. Truth be told, this is the most normal of the “dates” so far. Alex is sweet, calm, and effortlessly funny. He talks to you like you’ve known each other for years. No pressure, no forced charm. Just vibing over pad see ew and Thai iced teas. Still, something’s… off. Not with him, exactly. Just… something.

—

duckling commentary…

Ollie whispers lowly. “Why is she laughing that hard? What did he say? I need a transcript.”

Isack squints. “She looks relaxed. TOO relaxed.”

Kimi shrugs. “He’s got soft energy. I’m not threatened.”

Franco sighs. “But what if she likes soft energy.”

Gabriel with a mouth full. “I like Alex. He’s soft. Like tofu.”

Jack moves the menu from his face. “I will literally flip this table if he touches her hand.”

—

back to you and mr. albon…

“You know,” Alex says, mid-bite, “I told them this was ridiculous. I said, ‘She’s not looking for someone. She’s got that look in her eye like she already found someone and hasn’t told them yet.’”

You go still.

He looks up at you. “Sorry—was that too much?”

You stare at him for a second.

And then: “No. That was… very on point.”

Alex smiles, a little softer now. “It’s not me, is it?”

You shake your head slowly. “No.”

He sits back, letting out a small breath. “Didn’t think so. Just wanted to be sure before I told Isack to stop plotting date number four.”

You laugh. Like full body laugh.

“God, they’re so intense.”

“They’re obsessed with you,” Alex says easily. “I get it. You’re kind of their mum. But also their queen. Their general. Their—”

“Duck wrangler.”

“Exactly.”

You sip your drink. “You’re handling this well.”

“I like being a decoy,” Alex shrugs. “Gives me a front row seat to the Max Verstappen Situation.”

You choke. “The what?”

He smirks. “Oh, come on. You don’t think we all saw him volunteer for the draft room? He showed up like he’d already won.”

You press your lips together. “It’s… complicated.”

“Is it?” Alex grins. “Because I think the only people who haven’t figured it out are the rookies. And honestly? I’m not telling them. Watching this slow unraveling is the best thing to happen to the paddock since Pierre got stuck in that bathroom in Baku.”

—

You and Alex step out of the restaurant into the night air, the six rookies immediately materializing from inside.

Isack approaches quickly. “Rate the date. Out of 10. Be honest.”

Ollie checks you over, again. “Did he hold you?”

Kimi crosses his arms. “I brought pepper spray in case things got weird.”

Gabriel sighs dramatically. “Alex, are you in love with her?”

Jack stares at you. “Was it mid?? Be real.”

Franco stares down Alex. “You better not hurt her or I’ll flatten you on the sidewalk.”

Alex just throws his hands up. “Guys. I’m literally the safe option. You picked me for vibe control.”

—

The place is quiet. Max picked a rooftop bar just outside the city — warm lights, open air, panoramic views, and most importantly—no cameras. Well. Except the ones hidden behind a concrete planter across the deck. You glance toward it and spot the very obvious outline of Ollie’s curly hair. You don’t even say anything. Max sees it too. He smirks.

“They really don’t know how to blend in, huh?”

“Nope.”

“I think he is wearing the fake mustache again.”

“I give them points for commitment.”

You clink your glasses together — you with a ginger beer, Max with something dark and still half-ignored — and settle into the kind of silence that feels earned, not awkward. The breeze lifts your hair slightly. His eyes follow the movement, just for a second.

“You’ve been humoring them,” he says after a while.

You glance at him. “You’ve been letting them spiral.”

He grins. “I don’t intervene in things I already won.”

Your heart does a thing. You sip your drink to cover it.

—

meanwhile at the rookie watchtower…

Jack smiles, looking satisfied. “Okay, we’re officially in the final boss round.”

Isack eyes the both of you. “Do we think he’s actually playing the game or just… winning by default?”

Gabriel shrugs. “He’s not even trying to flirt and it’s working. I hate it here.”

Ollie squints at Max. “He’s got that smug ‘I already kissed her’ look—”

Franco shrieks. “Wait. Has he???”

Kimi eyes all of the boys. “Do we interfere if tongues happen.”

All of them erupt. “YES.”

—

back with you and maxie…

Back at the table, Max leans forward slightly, eyes on you like he’s choosing every word carefully.

“I’m glad you let them do this.”

“Yeah?”

“Gave me a front-row seat to your smile. And their chaos. Win-win.”

You raise an eyebrow. “So what’s your plan? You know they’re watching.”

He shrugs. “Not here to impress them.”

“Oh?”

Max sets his drink down.

“I’m here to kiss you in front of them and end this game.”

You go still. Heart? Racing.

“You’re serious.”

He stands. Offers his hand. You take it. And then he pulls you in gently, tilting your chin up just enough, and kisses you like it’s not even a question anymore. Like it never was. Warm. Certain. Slow. Soft. And behind you—

“OH MY GOD.”

“THAT’S ILLEGAL.”

“THAT’S AGAINST THE RULES.”

You don’t even break the kiss until Max pulls back with a laugh, turning just slightly toward the human pile of rookies currently losing their minds behind a planter.

His arm stays looped around your waist.

“That’s against the rules!” Ollie yells again, hands flailing.

Max smirks. Shrugs.

“I don’t follow rules,” he says simply, “when she’s already mine.”

Jack screams into a napkin. 

Franco blinks in disbelief. “HE SAID WHAT—”

Isack looks like he is going to faint. “I NEED TO SIT DOWN.”

Gabriel clutching his chest. “I think I just blacked out.”

Kimi smirked. “I knew it. I KNEW IT.”

Ollie crumbles quickly. “They made us schedule a date with Alex when she was already WITH HIM—”

You turn toward Max, cheeks warm, heart light, still half-shocked and entirely melted.

“That was… dramatic.”

“Worth it.”

“You really planned to one-up the rookies?”

He grins. “No. I planned to end the game before they tried to match you with Lando.”

You laugh and kiss him again — brief, bright, completely yours. Alongside the two of you, six ducklings begin planning a joint wedding speech.

—

maxverstappen1

liked by gabrielbortoleto_, olliebearman, kimi.antonelli and 5,505,023 others.

maxverstappen1 : grid mom and dad making it official. love you, schat❤️

tagged : yourusername

—

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gabrielbortoleto_ : i feel like i found out santa isn’t real but also found out my parents are canceling the divorce on the same day.

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↳ yourusername : idek what that means but okay my little ducky.

↳ gabrielbortoleto_ : im betrayed but overjoyed

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francolapinto : mama y papa

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olliebearman : we scheduled dates. we made color-coded spreadsheets. we googled how to flirt respectfully. AND YOU WERE ALREADY KISSING.

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↳ isackhadjar : i was ready to flatten pierre with my car for this woman. AND THIS IS HOW YOU TREAT ME???

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↳ jackdoohan : we booked a RESTAURANT. i WORE A COLLARED SHIRT. i told a waiter “it’s her big day.” for WHAT.

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↳ gabrielbortoleto_ : i was her emotional support water bottle holder. do you know how much responsibility that is???

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↳ kimi.antonelli : i knew. i always knew. but i let the others spiral because it was funny.

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↳ olliebearman : don’t even talk. i wrote her a DATING PROFILE. with bullet points.

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↳ isackhadjar : they KISSED ON THE DATE I WAS HIDING BEHIND A PLANT FOR. i need financial compensation.

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↳ olliebearman : HEY. i wore that itchy ass mustache four dates in a ROW.

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↳ yourusername : i would trust you all with my life. just not my love life ❤️

—

bonus scene!

The checkered flag waves. You don’t even hear the roar of the crowd at first — not over the static-crackling voice of your race engineer, screaming so loud he’s probably broken something in the garage.

“P1! YN, that’s P1 — you did it! YOU BLOODY DID IT!”

You’re not breathing. Your hands are shaking around the wheel, your visor fogged slightly with heat and adrenaline. You let out a noise — somewhere between a yell and a laugh and a sob — and punch the air so hard you might’ve dislocated something. And then another voice cuts in. Kimi. Completely unprofessional. Totally euphoric.  “GRID MOM WINS. THE GRID MOM WON!!!”

You let out a laugh, heart racing, vision blurring. Your car rolls over the finish line and onto the cooldown lap, your fingers white-knuckled around the wheel.

By the time you’re climbing out of the car, the world is already screaming. Fans at the fence chant your name. The Mercedes crew is piling over the pit wall like lunatics.

You tear your helmet off and throw your arms in the air. You’ve barely taken a full breath when you’re tackled from the side — Kimi, jumping on you like a golden retriever with too much kinetic energy.

“I’M SO PROUD OF YOU,” he yells, muffled by your shoulder.

“You got your first podium!” you laugh, hugging him just as tightly.

“And YOU WON. So, respectfully — I will get in line, this is your moment.”

He lets you go with one last enthusiastic pat on the back, and that’s when you see him.

Max. Standing a few paces away, helmet off, hair messy, eyes only on you.

The way he looks at you? Like you painted the sky.

He doesn’t rush you. Just walks forward with that calm, smug patience he always has — but when you meet him halfway, wrapping your arms around his neck and laughing into his shoulder, he lifts you slightly off the ground without hesitation.

“You’re unbelievable,” he says softly into your hair.

You pull back just enough to see his face. “Still think you let me win?”

He grins. “Only because you’re hot.”

The champagne sprays. The flashbulbs explode. The crowd is still roaring when Max steps off his podium block, strides across to you — and kisses you. It's not subtle. It's not quiet. It's a hard launch in high definition. He pulls back only slightly, curls his arm around your waist. Your eyes go wide, but you're already smiling. Laughing, even. You press your forehead to his and exhale one word through your grin.

“Dramatic.”

“Correct.”

But before either of you can bask in it for too long— CHAOS.

Suddenly, there’s yelling. Sprinting. A commotion behind the barriers. And then— A ROOKIE STAMPEDE.

Ollie is first. He launches himself up the side of the podium steps like it’s the final stage of Ninja Warrior. Franco and Gabriel follow, scaling like climbers on caffeine.

Jack does a running leap. Isack vaults the barrier with no regard for ankle safety. And Kimi, of course, simply walks up — nods at the FIA official like this is normal, and joins the crowd. They pile onto the podium. No one stops them. Security gives up. Fans are shrieking.

Franco hugs your waist and yells, “MY MOM WON!!”

Jack flings an arm around Max and shouts, “DAD HARD LAUNCHED! HISTORY HAS BEEN MADE!”

Ollie collapses onto the floor of the podium and moans, “I feel so emotionally unsafe right now, but I’m also so proud.”

Gabriel is taking selfies mid-hug.Isack is clinging to your arm like it’s the last flotation device on the Titanic.

Kimi sighed happily. “It was time. The people needed to know.”

And in the middle of it all, Max just throws an arm around your shoulders and says with a completely straight face. “These are our children now.”

—

Later that night, Max throws his phone on the hotel bed and flops down beside you, still smiling.

“I think we broke the Internet,” you murmur.

“I think we adopted six grown men.”

You laugh. “Worth it.”

He turns his head, grinning. “They love you, you know.”

“I know.”

You pause. “They love us.”

He kisses you again — soft this time, slow — and the world outside fades. For now, it’s just the two of you. And the six rookies already planning family brunch in the group chat.

—

[dracoflaco]

oh gawd

➤ THE (OTHER) COSTUME | LANDO NORRIS

pairing: lando norris x single mom!reader

summary: after lando surprises your son for his birthday, you decide to surprise him by dressing up for silverstone, only this time, it's not spider-man: milo dresses up like lando himself. 

wc: 7.6 k

warnings: none!

authors note: okay so the love 'the costume' has received has been wild?? y'all are fantastic

➤ MASTERLIST - part one

You wish orange were a more common colour for clothes. After all, it could be bright and colourful or muted and rusty, a nice warm tone to add to your everyday wardrobe. 

It totally didn't have anything to do with the fact that you and Milo had nothing to wear to Lando's race next week.

Not remotely.

"You could dress like a car?" Milo says, running his hands along a display of dress pants, much to the disdain of the shopping attendant. 

"We want to wear Lando's team colours, silly." Despite all the time you had spent with the driver, you had yet to have a real piece of McLaren merch, or Lando's, or anything even remotely F1 related. If Lando were currently in England, you fantasize about the idea that you could call him up and ask him to borrow something of his, a daydream of wearing something that he'd worn before. 

It's the kind of thought that makes you blush in the middle of the store, the ridiculousness of it all getting to you. It's a childish thing, the sort of act a teen would blush over, but you couldn't help it. Lando had returned you to a youthful, bubbly sort of romance that you had thought you'd never get the chance to experience again. Well, you hope it's a romance, at least, and not just another doomed infatuation.

After all, it was hard to call something a romance when you hadn't seen the man in two weeks.

Lando hadn't been back to England since the birthday party, which was expected of someone like an F1 driver. A race in Austria, a movie premiere in New York. You, on the other hand, were a single mom halfway across the world. You had kissed him, sure, but that wasn't anything concrete. You knew how whirlwind romances could end, what those quick kisses could turn into. 

The evidence of it was currently trying to sneak his way into a rack of coats. "Milo, I don't think we're finding anything in there." You hold out your hand, and he happily runs to grab it. "How about we try another store?" 

"Won't Mr. Norris have things for us at the race?" He asks as you lead him out of the store, and it's a fair question. Lando certainly could surprise you with merch, but seeing as you have a week until the race, and that he's off travelling the world with far more important people, getting McLaren hats and shirts for you and Milo wouldn't be top of his list. 

Well, perhaps not for you. After all, despite the connection you hoped to grow with the racer, it was obvious he already loved Milo. He'd come dressed as Spider-Man, got Milo gifts, babysat when he could, hell, he was paying for you to go to Silverstone!

Really, the fact that he kissed you almost takes a back burner to just how involved he is in Milo's life. So, who's to say he wouldn't be thoughtful enough to remember merch?

Then, just as soon as the thought arises, it leaves a strange feeling in your stomach. Lando was an unfathomably wealthy person, compared to your situation. How could you possibly want more?

Oh, you don't have something orange to wear to support him, so you need whatever ridiculously expensive merch he has? 

You don't want him for his money, and more than anything, you don't want him to think you're ungrateful. Milo tugs at your hand, breaking you out of your thoughts, and he grins so wide that for a moment, you forget what you were thinking of entirely. "Mum, look!" He says, pointing to a charity shop. "A race suit!" 

And, because maybe miracles do happen, or some parent was cleaning out their kids' clothes, there's an old Lightning-McQueen race suit costume slung over the back of a chair in the shop's display, with a five-pound note sticker attached to it.

All you need now, you think, is some black dye, some orange paint, and some white paint markers. 

-

Lando makes it exactly three weeks before he cracks. Well, that's not exactly true. He sends you an Instagram reel on Wednesday night, questions about hotel preferences on Saturday morning, train times the following Tuesday. 

However, he hadn't talked about the party, or the aftermath, or the fact that he kissed you at all, and it was sort of driving him mad. He was given a glimpse of the domestic life, of what his days could look like off the road and off the track, and it was eating him away inside. 

How do you not fall in love like that? 

Well, love might be a strong word, but Lando was feeling things for you he'd never felt this fully before, and he had no way of knowing if that was a pity kiss, or a kiss with no strings attached, or if maybe, just maybe, you did like him back, and Lando had to consider a lot of things about his future if you did. 

However, none of that mattered right now, because Lando was slightly tipsy, and he just really, really wanted to see your face. FaceTime rings twice before you pick up, looking at him rather confused. "Lando? Everything alright?" 

"M' perfect." He says, sitting on the edge of his hotel bed, loosening the tie around his neck. "You?" 

"I'm doing alright," You say with a laugh, and as Lando squints down at his phone, he realizes you have a streak of orange paint near your chin. "Busy getting ready for the race this weekend." 

"Is that Mr. Norris?" Lando hears faintly, and he perks up instantly. 

"Milo! Can I say hi?" You pause, glancing down to where he imagines Milo stands by you, and something stutters in his chest. Did he do something wrong? 

Do you not want him to see Milo? 

He fully well could've overstepped some boundaries, tucking you both in like that, reading, invading your personal space. It had felt right for Lando to have been part of that equation, but it didn't mean-"You can, but you're not allowed to say anything. It's a surprise." 

"A surprise? For me?" With a slowly easing heart, you pass off the phone, and Lando laughs so hard he has to fall back on the bed. 

Milo is just covered in orange paint. It's on his hands, smudged on his face, splattered on an old t-shirt he's wearing. It was very obviously a surprise for the race, probably a sign, he thinks, and he takes screenshots as he stares at Milo grinning at him. "Hello, Mr. Norris!" 

"Hey, you muppet. Did you get into some paint?" Milo nods, turning to show him something, and your hand covers the camera. "Aw, come on!" 

"It's a surprise, sweetheart." Lando knows you're talking to Milo, not him, but god, does the name do things to his insides. "You can't show him yet." 

"Oh," Milo says, as his face returns to the camera. "Mum says you can't see." 

"I'll just have to wait. You excited for the race?" Milo nods excitedly, once again trying to show the camera something, but your hand covers it once more as you laugh, an unexpected sound. 

"Milo, what did I just say?" 

"I was just going to show how excited I am! Here." Milo steps back from the camera, and he spreads his arms super wide. Rather than focusing on the cute moment, however, Lando's gaze drifts to the background of Milo's bedroom. His McLaren Lego car box is proudly on display, however, all the Spider-Man decor is not. Or, at least some things were missing from when he tucked Milo and you in. Not that he memorized the room, or anything, but simply that he'd been replaying that memory in his head so often, it felt like he knew what the decorations should be.

"Wow, that's pretty exciting." He says, tuning back into the conversation. When you flip the camera around to show yourself, you immediately catch the furrow in Lando's brow. 

He's sure it's just from you being attentive to your own child's needs, but something is telling in the way that, just from looking at him, you know what he's thinking. "Everything alright?" 

"Where's all the Spider-Man stuff?" It couldn't have been long enough that Milo had changed interests. Sure, kids go through different interests, but Lando had got Milo web shooters, he had posters on his walls, comic books on the shelves. Now, it was oddly bare, and Lando's immediate first thought, his first fear, is that you could be moving, and he refuses to allow it to take root in his brain. 

You would have a nice and simple and not scary explanation. You had to. "He's going through a bit of a phase, right now." You explain, turning the camera back to Milo, who is still grinning up at you, gap-toothed and all. "Milo, who's your favourite hero?" 

And there, Milo says the one sentence that makes Lando wonder if he should abandon everything to fly home early just for you, and more importantly, just for Milo: "Mr. Norris!" 

"Me?" Lando squawks out, words caught in his throat. "But I'm not a hero." 

"Well, you are in this house." You'd just shot him in the heart, he thinks. He can't imagine an appropriate response, just staring at Milo, who keeps grinning. In this house, which means Milo and you. Lando was his favourite hero now, for reasons even Lando didn't quite understand. Sure, he was a F1 star, a celebrity, but he wasn't anything important. He wasn't a hero, by any means, but with Milo staring at him like that? He just might believe it. "He wants to do another birthday party Lando-themed." 

"Can Milo hear me right now?" You shake your head, and Lando dramatically throws an arm over his face, trying to cover his growing blush and crack a joke, because if he doesn't, he might cry. "So I dressed up for nothing?" 

"Lando!" You're laughing in unison now, and he wishes, above anything, that it wasn't just over the phone. Seeing you in person might ease the ache in his heart or the anxiety growing in his head. Honestly, it could just make it all ten times worse, but all Lando can think is that you had to like him back. Even if there were concerns of how Milo might fit into the equation, or his racing career, or your own past, you had to.

He was a hero in your household, anyway. 

Which meant he might be a hero to you, and really, Lando would give anything to be that knight in shining armour, whisking you away to experience the finer things in life, to give you and Milo the happiness you deserve. 

He just sort of has to get off of Facetime and into your life to make it happen. 

-

"Mum," Milo whispers up to you, "Why are they taking our picture?" 

The cameras flash around you as you enter the Silverstone track, however, even as your heart rate picks up, and the fear sets in of what Lando's world means, you know exactly why the cameras are flashing: because a little Lando Norris just walked in, decked out in a little McLaren racesuit, made as accurately as you could. "Because they love your costume, sweetheart." 

"I made it myself." Milo then says up to one of the photographers as you pass. "Mum helped." 

"I'm sure mum helped a lot!" The woman says with a laugh, and you offer her a warm smile. You're sure, if people knew you were here at Lando's request, after he dressed up as Spider-Man for Milo's birthday, they'd be acting much differently. 

But, for now, you're fairly invisible, able to walk through the paddock with Milo and enjoy the morning for what it is. Lando had told you to message him when you arrived, but had so far been MIA. It was qualifying today, so he was probably just swamped with media, or training, or getting ready to race, or more important people. 

Milo, however, very obviously notices Lando's disappearance. "Where's Mr. Norris?" 

"I'm sure he's getting ready," You say, stopping under the shade of an umbrella. It was a ridiculously hot time for England, and coming in an all-black outfit wasn't the best decision, but it was the nicest thing you owned for this kind of event. "We'll see him later, sweetheart." 

"I want to show him my suit." Milo says, tugging at your hand toward the bright orange McLaren hospitality. You were a guest of McLaren, technically, so if you were to be anywhere, you think this might be it. Milo, marching his way toward the building, draws the attention of even more cameras, and even more people. In your eyes, Milo truly was adorable, and deserved to be the centre of attention, but even this was a bit much.

"Look, it's a mini you." Someone says, and to your surprise, you look up to see the other McLaren racer standing by the doors. 

"Oh, wow." Oscar says, offering a little wave to Milo, who, for some reason, immediately hides behind your leg. You squat down to his height, gently carding your hand through his curls, as you try to figure out how he'd become so shy so fast.

"Look who it is!" You say, as Oscar approaches with even more flashing cameras, and Milo stares up at him, wide-eyed. "Can you say hi to Mr. Piastri?" 

Oscar crouches to also be Milo's height, which helps somewhat, but the boy is obviously wary. "Hello," Milo says shyly. "Mr. Pias-tri." 

"Hi there," Oscar says, holding out a hand for a high five. Much to your horror, Milo leaves him hanging. "I like your race suit." 

"It's for Mr. Norris." Milo says, pulling at the front of it. "We made it at home." 

"You must be Milo," Oscar says, and for a moment, your heart stops. Lando spoke about Milo. And, probably not just Milo, but you, and you're not sure what to do with that information. "Lando told me you were coming today. Are you having fun?" 

Milo nods, turning to look at you with a strange sort of look in his eye, and you still can't figure out why. Sure, it's not Lando, but Oscar is just as impressive! "It's okay, sweetheart. Mr. Piastri is also a pretty cool car driver." 

"Lando and I are teammates," Oscar says, and Milo shoots him an unimpressed look. After all, considering the little racing fan Milo was turning out to be, he seemed to believe Oscar was underestimating him.

"I know." He says defensively, and Oscar cracks a smile. "I saw you on TV." 

"Do you want a photo?" Someone says from above, and Oscar shifts to kneel beside Milo as you rise, giving the two of them space.

Milo finally seems to warm up to Oscar, offering a little smile, and without much thought to the action, Oscar takes off his hat and puts it on Milo's head. Milo gasps, grabbing the brim as he tries to look up at the hat, and ends up pulling it over his eyes. The small group laughs, including Oscar, who folds in on himself as he rises. "He's adorable," He says, reaching down to gently pat Milo's head. "I get why Lando loves him so much." 

Loves. 

I get why Lando loves him so much. "Oh, well, thank you," You manage to stutter out. "Milo, what do you say to Mr. Piastri?" 

"Oscar," Oscar says, extending a hand. "You don't have to call me Mr. Piastri." 

You shake his hand, and somewhere in the universe, you feel a change you can't describe, a cord unplugged from something too early. You turn to your right instinctively, where you find Lando a few steps away, out of breath and panting, staring you down, like a man who'd just spotted his lost love coming home from war. 

At least, that's what you hope that expression means. "Mr. Norris!" 

-

Lando's going to fucking die, and so far, there's at least like three potential reasons for it. He missed your text of your arrival, missed sending his attendant to gather you to bring you back to his drivers room and the paddock early, and then couldn't find you. He'd run around, probably looking a little mad, until he thought to stop by the McLaren hospitality, where he finally did find you. 

However, you were looking at Oscar and blushing and stuttering out something before shaking his hand, and his heart turned into something he could only describe as shrivelled. You were supposed to look at him like that, like when he stopped to help you bring groceries in, or fix your wifi router, or when he held the door. That hand you were shaking, even if it was just Oscar, wasn't right. Oscar shouldn't have been the first person to greet you, it should've been him. Lando should've been here, for you, and he wasn't, and how did that show he was dependable? That he cared? 

However, all of that sort of went out of the window when he heard Milo call his name, and then his shrivelled heart exploded, because all the orange paint made sense now. 

It wasn't for a sign, it was for an outfit. Milo was stood in a perfect little replica race suit, running at him full tilt with his arms spread out, and Lando wasted no time bending down to scoop the boy up, happily holding him in his arms as he babbled on about something, but Lando was sort of too far gone to hear it. 

You had made Lando's race suit. You got all the details right, even the little sponsor names, the little British flag and the name Norris on his hip, and for a moment, Lando has the realization that if, one day, you took his last name, Milo would too. Milo Norris, he thinks, is a perfect name for a perfect kid. 

Then, Milo pulls the hat off his head, and Lando gets a glimpse of the number on it. "What! 81?" He says, taking the hat and happily tossing it at Oscar, who catches it with a laugh. "That's betrayal! That's-that's enemy territory, Milo. What number should it be?" 

"Four!" Milo says as Lando reaches up to take his own hat off his head and place it on Milo's. 

"Exactly. 81's for ass-" Well, that's certainly not a word you would approve of him saying in front of Milo. "Uh, Australians." 

"Nice catch." You tease, coming to stand beside him, and there really must be something wrong with him, there's got to be. Because with you at his side, adjusting Milo's hat, smiling at him like that? All he can picture is this one day being his, and he's only kissed you once. "Did you just come from a work out?" 

A work out? 

Oh, him being out of breath and sweating. 

"Yeah, getting ready before qualifying." Totally not because he ran here. 

Not at all. "Can mum have the hat?" Milo asks, and Lando blinks a couple times before realizing he's never given you any merch, and for a moment, he just sort of hears ringing in his ears. 

Because how could he have never given you merch? Both McLaren or his own? How could he have never seen you in his shirts, wearing his number, god, maybe even just some of his own worn clothes? It's all he can picture, of you curled up beside him, repping him, and he has to think about rather terrible things to keep his body from reacting. "You know what? Let's take a trip to my store." 

"Lando, you don't have to-" Lando holds up a hand, cutting you off, and he then beckons you to follow. 

"I hope you brought a bag," He says. "Cause you're getting everything." 

-

Lando gets it, now. 

Why the guys like having their partners at races. It's sweet to have anyone come to watch, to celebrate, but coming off third, a not-so great result, coming back to his drivers room, and coming back to you? 

Oh, it takes so much restraint not to just kiss you senseless, because you're in his jersey, grinning at him with Milo in your arms, the image of perfection. Who cares about third when you have this?

Lando gets it, now, as you wrap an arm around him in a hug, squeezing Milo between the two of you as you laugh. 

He gets why guys put everything on the line to come home to something like this. 

-

McLaren having a partnership with Hilton is, you think, maybe one of the best perks Lando comes with. Sure, there are the fancy cars and free t-shirts, but a two-room hotel suite for you and Milo? At no cost at all? 

Well, that's the sort of thing you could see yourself getting used to, and as you wrap yourself in one of the comfy, complimentary robes, the thought doesn't bring about giddiness of the future, or of Lando, but a strange unease. This was a whole new world, where things were just handed to you on a silver platter when before, you had to fight tooth and nail for the same kind of respect. You got the free merch, the complimentary food and drink, the beautiful hotel suite, and it was all because of Lando. 

Lando was out there wearing watches more expensive than your apartment, and Milo was in a charity shop jumpsuit that you hand-painted. It was a very new world to step into, and one you're not sure exactly how to adjust to. There's a soft, tentative knock on the door, and you press your face to the peephole to spot Lando with a plastic bag in hand. 

"I hope I didn't wake Milo?" He says as you open the door, gesturing to the bag. "Just wanted to drop off something." 

"I just put him down," You say softly, letting him in. "Poor guy fell asleep on the way home." 

It was also a stupid thing to get caught up on when you and Lando had only kissed once. He probably had made out with countless women and let them go in a single night. Doesn't mean you didn't value his presence, or that you didn't miss the absence he filled. The empty side of the bed, the empty plate at dinner. Lando had played that role only once, and yet it had just felt so right. It was delusion, probably. Having fallen so quickly, after a single day, but you can't forget how right it felt, how much you wanted it, how long you'd seen him with Milo before it finally tipped over the edge. 

"You're something else, you know that?" Lando says, sitting down on the edge of your bed with a grin. "For dressing him up like that. Think it might've stopped my heart." 

You come to stand between his open legs, and somehow not quite getting the message, Lando extends the plastic bag. "It was all his idea," You say, taking the bag. "He wanted to dress up like his hero, after all." 

"Oh, you can't say that!" Lando covers his face and leans back on the bed as you crack open the bag. "I'm not a hero, I'm just-" He props himself up on his elbows when he hears the crinkling of the bag. "Oh, that's for you." 

In hand is a worn McLaren sweater you're pretty sure you've seen Lando wear at least ten times, which isn't a lot, but considering how little you saw him? It was a staple piece of his wardrobe. You must turn bright red, because Lando turns a matching shade as he quickly gets up, leaving little space between you. 

"It's just-I thought it might be a better everyday colour than the...the green." He tries to take it from your hand, and you pull it away from him, much like a child refusing to share. "If you don't want-" 

"Oh, you're never getting this back now." He gave you. 

His sweater. "I thought it matched you more." Then, because saying you matched an old worn hoodie, more than you did brand new, expensive merch might not exactly be taken the best, you watch his face fall in real time. "Because you should be comfortable! And it's like, the most comfortable thing I own! I-" 

"Lando." He immediately shuts his mouth, and sits back down on the bed, and you can't help but laugh, coming to sit beside him. So maybe you weren't alone, in how new this all was, the strange territory you toed the line on. "It's very sweet." 

"You're laughing! I gave you my jumper and you're laughing." He lets out a low breath, but you can see the corners of his mouth twitching, fighting his own smile. "And to think I flew you out here." 

"We took the train, actually." You correct, folding the sweater up and leaving it beside you. "Which I never got to thank you for. All this has been...so much." And as much as you hate to admit it, you need to start being honest at some point. "Maybe too much." 

Lando pauses as he watches you, you fiddling with the tie of your robe as you wait for his response. Telling him this was too much, to his face, was probably an idiotic decision, but this was all so foreign. The glamour, the respect. People didn't just do these sorts of things for you, didn't do anything anywhere near as close. 

But Lando? He came dressed as Spider-Man, and invited you to races, and for the first time in a long time, made you feel something in a heart normally reserved for Milo and Milo alone. "I couldn't tell you the last time I went on holiday." You finally say, just barely above a whisper. "Had someone pour me champagne, got more free, fancy things than I could ever name. And I'm so grateful for all of it. For you, Lando. I just..." 

"It's a lot." Lando finishes for you, rubbing his hands together. "It's okay, if I'm too much too." 

"You?" You turn to look at him, and Lando refuses to meet your eye, staring a hole into the carpet. "I don't think I could ever get enough of you, honestly." 

"I just really want this to work, you know." Lando suddenly blurts, cheeks tinted pink from your comment. "And I don't know how to do that without just fucking going crazy. Like the Spider-Man suit, paying for you to come to a race? Who does that?" Lando Norris does, apparently. "I just...I want you, and I want that little guy at all of my races, in that little suit, cheering me on." It all sort of comes out in a tumble of a confession that just keeps going. "And not just at races. I want to come home to this, to the Spider-Man webs on the walls, reading him a bedtime story, and I want to come home to you. Wearing my jersey, or my jumper, being with me, kissing me over the backs of couches." Lando looms nearer, then, and in another life, you might grab his face and kiss him, if it weren't for that little, minuscule fear that held everything back. Your words, your future, your feelings. "I think I'm sort of going crazy about it, actually." 

"Oh." You were supposed to be confessing your feelings of inadequacy to him, not him confessing actual feelings for you, but you truly don't mind the flip in conversation. However, he looks on the edge of something, a word that he just can't quite get out. "But?" 

He drops his head into his hands, raking his fingers through his curls. 

It's something he doesn't want to say, and it's something you've had to face for the past four years. "But having that is more than just races and little orange track suits." You fill in for him this time. 

"It's a lot of travelling, and a lot of away days, but...other drivers do it?" 

"With their own kids, Lando. That's a bit different." You break slowly,  because it's the truth. 

Lando adored Milo. It's one of the things that made the man so dear to you, but there was a difference between being good with kids and being good at raising kids, between being a babysitter and a potential father. "Milo's pretty much mine, if you want him to be." Lando admits quietly. "D'you see what number he was wearing? Whose name you put on that suit?" 

There's a part of you that wants to yell at him to be realistic. His world is so far from yours, with so much more to offer. There must be models and actresses and others cut out for this, not you, not Milo. But when he says things like that? When he looks at you like that? It's a lot harder to make that argument believable. "Kids are a lot of responsibility, Lando. There's more than one heart at stake here. I need you to think about this seriously." 

"Mum?" Both of you jolt at the sound of Milo's voice, somehow having gotten out of his room without either of you noticing. You have half a mind to put some distance between you and Lando, considering how close you're sitting, but Milo doesn't seem to care, scrambling up the other side of the bed to sit near you. 

"Missing out?" Lando says, turning to sit cross legged on the bed, and letting Milo join the little huddle. It's an act that shouldn't be as heartstopping as it is, but it was Lando, and it was Milo. 

It was the realization that you could have someone else to turn to on those sleepless nights, someone at your side who accepted Milo, not rejected him. It was someone in your corner, who wanted you, and it was the first time, in a long time, that anyone's made you feel so...whole. You'll cry about it later, you decide, when both your boys aren't present. 

"You should be in bed, love." You whisper, gently pressing a kiss to Milo's forehead. "So should Mr. Norris." 

"Sleepover?" Milo asks behind a yawn, and Lando laughs softly, shaking his head. 

"We've got a big day tomorrow. We can't stay up." Lando pats the pillow at the head of the bed, and Milo crawls up to lie against it. "How's that?" 

"I'm sure it's great, stealing my bed." You tease, coming to lie on one side of Milo, tickling his stomach as he cackles with laughter. Lando falls onto the bed on the other side of Milo and looks over at you with a grin.

As much as you would like to continue your conversation, some things in life are just more important. Seemingly tired of your presence, Milo rolls away from you, and plants his head on Lando's chest. Lando doesn't move, freezing immediately as the boy curls up into his side. "Picking favourites, are we?" You ask softly, and Milo yawns into Lando's ribs. 

"I am a pretty good pillow." Lando says, shooting you a wink, and you move onto your side, your arm splayed over Milo and onto Lando's chest. Your palm flattens against him to feel his pounding heart, the movement quick enough to convince you that he'd just run a marathon, or maybe won a race, instead of lying next to you. 

It would be a more intimate moment if Milo didn't wipe his drool on Lando's t-shirt, who luckily takes it in stride. "I should take him to races more often," You say absentmindedly, stuck between watching Milo and watching Lando. "He's pretty tuckered out." 

"You can come to every race," Lando says softly, rolling his head to the side to look at you. "I'll pay for every one." 

"Lando..." The thing is, when he said things like that, you knew he meant it. You knew that this could be your future, such an opportunity for both you and Milo, but it shouldn't be yours to take. At least, it shouldn't be yours to take, unless Lando considers all the little repercussions that come with dating you. "I just want you to think about this." You peek down at Milo, whose eyes are fluttering, still fighting sleep. You move your hand from Lando's chest to gently rub at his back, and in seconds, he's finally dozing. Only when you're sure he won't wake from your whispers do you continue. "You mean more to me than you know, so if we're doing this, I don't want...I just, I need you to know that I need all of you." 

"You have all of me." Then, because he knows it's not a fair thing to say, "I'll think about it." 

As gently as you can, you pull Milo back off Lando's chest and onto the bed. Lando's face falls at the loss, and you have to steel yourself to stop from confessing something catastrophic then and there. Despite all the doubts you have, the way Lando looks at Milo stirs something deep in your heart. "Don't worry about it at the race, either." You warn, knowing how he might stew over this long enough to hurt his performance tomorrow. "Just...when you know, tell me." 

Lando leans over, and you expect him to say something, but instead, he presses a kiss to your cheek. "Trust me," He says, "You'll be the first to know. Goodnight." He then gently places his hand on Milo's head and whispers, "Goodnight, Mini-me." 

-

So, maybe Lando's love confession didn't exactly go as planned last night. He had gotten the two-room suite for a reason: Milo goes to bed, you stay up, he confesses everything he's been dying to say, maybe you kiss him, it all works perfectly. 

However, that sort of love confession wasn't realistic, and he'd ended up not beginning a relationship with you, but he did kiss you on the cheek, and got a reminder to think about the relationship, you, and Milo. Despite your warning, it's all he can think about the entire time he's in the car, which most certainly isn't helpful. 

He wanted this. 

He wanted you. And Milo. 

And despite what those around him might think, it was realistic. It could be, anyway. He was young, he was well aware, but he had the energy to be a father. Other people had kids at his age! I mean, Milo wasn't exactly a teenage pregnancy, you were both in your twenties. You could handle this. He could handle this. Or, at least, he was pretty sure he could. 

He had already cornered Max in the Red Bull Motorhome to annoy him with enough questions about being a step-dad that the man now refused to answer his texts. He had done the research. He'd seen Milo in that race suit. He knew how his own father raised him, the kind of kindness that he couldn't believe others never received. 

That was enough. You were enough. And, as he overtakes Max, he hopes you know that. He hopes that you delaying this wasn't coming from your view of yourself, because he knew what the media could be like. You weren't what most people might expect from him, but that didn't make it wrong, didn't make you any less of a partner. Milo was a glorious part of this, not something for you to ever feel ashamed about. 

He had meant it, when he said Milo was his. He might not know exactly how to be a dad, but he knows how to be himself, and everytime he is himself, around you, around Milo, it feels right. It feels like he belongs, like that kid was always supposed to be his, like you were always supposed to be his. 

Mr and Mrs Norris, and Milo Norris. 

As he pits, he wonders where you're watching from, if you'll get to the Parc Ferme in time, or get to the barrier. It's cocky to think of, halfway through a race, but he can't help it. It's his home race; he might die if he loses, especially now that you're here. His mind drifts, as he takes off, wondering if he'll get to kiss you.

Then, as Lando gets back out on the track, weaving his way back to first, he lets himself wonder, just once, if this is the right decision. 

Because what if he did make a mistake? What if he screwed up? What if he messes up Milo? If he messes up what you have? He'd never forgive himself. A child is such a large commitment, and honestly, if he ignores Milo, a very hard task to do, you're a big commitment too. Lando's not sure what happened to you in the past, to leave you with Milo and no one else, but he couldn't fathom hurting you further, seeing you hurt at all.

God, if he fucked this up, he could never-

"Message for you, Lando." A voice cuts through his earphones as the worst of the thoughts spiral, giving him just enough of a branch to cling onto. 

"Mr. Norris?" Milo says, "There's a-what is it? Oh, there's rain expected in ten minutes." 

Lando has to suck in a breath to respond, his mind going blank. "Yeah?" 

"If you win, will you give the trophy to mum?" And there, on the Silverstone track, Lando realizes he could never screw up. 

Not with Milo or you on the line. Not with this. He might be young, and this might be new, but he knows he'd give everything up in a heartbeat to have this at every race. 

To have someone to give his trophies to, to have someone to come home to, to have you, and Milo. To have a happily ever after that didn't depend on a race car, or winnings. One that simply depended on you saying yes in a white dress someday. And, long before that, of you meeting him at the barrier after this race. "Of course, you muppet." 

-

When Lando wins, because of course Lando wins, Silverstone goes ballistic. It's the sort of celebration you'd never witnessed before, all the mechanics, all the orange staff, all the fans in the stands, they all erupt in cheers and hugs, a morphing, crushing mob that rushes towards Parc Ferme with a speed that forces you to pick up Milo to avoid him getting trampled.

"The trophy!" He says, smacking against your shoulders as you join the rush, jogging to keep up. "He promised you his trophy!"

"I think I'll keep it in the kitchen," You say with a soft laugh, taking off your earmuffs to let them hang around your neck, settling nicely against Lando's jumper. It might not be the prettiest of things to wear to an F1 race, but who else could say they were wearing Lando Norris's clothes when he won his home race? "We can serve pasta out of it."

"Or sweets!" Milo says, trying to get up out of your arms to see over the crowd as you approach. "Or apple juice!"

Lando stands on top of his car, and for a moment, you regret not keeping the earmuffs on, because the screams around you are deafening, your own included. It's the sweetest possible sound of victory, Lando jumping up on his car and shaking his fists in the air, a ball of energy that belonged there.

He makes his way around the crowd, throwing himself at mechanics and other staff, embracing family and friends, celebrating like he deserves to. As he takes off his helmet, you watch him pause, jumping up on the tips of his toes to try to scan over the crowd, and it's Milo who figures it out before you do.

"MR. NORRIS!" He screeches, startling the few people in front of you. They awkwardly shuffle to the sides to let you and Milo through, and Lando is instantly reaching for the boy, swinging him over the barrier and hoisting him on his shoulders.

It's the sort of view you don't think you could ever get tired of. In fact, it's the sort of memory you want burned into the back of your eyelids to see every time you blink, or sleep, or dream. It's Milo and Lando, matching suits and curls and grins, stretched from ear to ear. The crowd keeps chanting, hollering at the two of them, but all the noise sort of fades as you watch.

That, you think, is how you want Milo to look at a man, at someone who might be your partner. That's the kind of care you want your partner to have, holding Milo like his own, spinning around in circles as the cameras flash and the world applauds them. At least, you think, the world sees your boys as you do.

Absolutely perfect. Lando catches your stare as he ends his celebratory dance, stopping a few feet away as he watches you right back. And that smile, that ridiculous, contagious smile, only grows.

"I thought about it!" He has to shout, words barely heard as he approaches.

"What?" You ask, leaning against the railing to try and make out the meaning.

"I said," He repeats, ducking forward to hover just above you, "I thought about it."

His lips are on yours before you can even react. To some, it probably isn't the most pleasant kiss in the world, with the sweat and the heat and the crowd crushing in, but you find there's not a single thing you could ever complain about as your hands come up to cup his cheeks. It's Lando, in the clearest declaration you've ever seen, calling you his, in front of Silverstone, in front of everyone, in front of Milo, in front of you. It's not a soft thing over the back of the couch in a Spider-Man costume, but it's so much more real, heavy and yet somehow lightening all the weight on your shoulders, all the worries preying at the edge of your mind.

This is how it should feel when you kiss someone. This is how it feels when you know it'll last, when that love extends past you and into the boy resting on Lando's shoulders. It's how it feels when you know, and he knows, and there's nothing else to say about it. "You won!" You say against his lips with a smile, and he pulls back to practically cackle at you.

"I won!" Later, when you tell him there were tears in his eyes at this moment, he'll deny them, but you watch the way they shine, all that hard work and effort paid off. "I've got my good luck charms with me. Now you have to come to every race."

"Oh, we'll be there." Lando reaches over the railing to pull you somehow closer into him, bending his head to press a kiss to your cheek, and whisper something without the world to hear.

"Thank you," He says, almost choking on the words. "I'll make this work, I promise."

"I believe you, Lando." You say, and you'd say more, but the moment gets interrupted by a certain someone.

"Mr. Norris!" Milo says, pulling softly at Lando's hair. "You kissed my mum."

Lando freezes, realizing that, as much as you might be happy about this relationship, Milo might not be. "That okay?"

Milo thinks for a moment. "Can I get your trophy?"

"I'll give you all my trophies from now on," Lando says, letting the boy down and back into your arms. "Do we have a deal?"

"Deal." Lando laughs, a pure, bright thing, and heads back to do whatever it is he does after a race, and you let reality settle in. There are cameras, and people staring, and questions to be asked, but you find that they don't quite matter, because you can't stop grinning like an idiot.

This, you think, was how it should feel, being in love. 

It's the way your heart calms, watching Lando get up on that podium, accept his award, knowing he deserves it all and more. It's you screaming until your lungs are raw in celebration, watching him spraying champagne, holding his trophy high, beaming down at you.

It's the Lego trophy that's in Milo's hands mere minutes after it's given to Lando, who, in his post-race celebration, hoists the boy back up on his shoulders, looking more proud of the boy above him than he was to win. They match, in their outfits, and their trophies, and their smiles, and their curls, and the way you're so utterly smitten for both of them. 

It's the sort of joy you hope will never fade, and after it's all done, and the fans go home, and the energy wears off, you doubt it ever will, as you discover Milo and Lando passed out together in his little en-suite room. The man had insisted on coming over to read Milo a bedtime story, but it seems the two never got that far, the book still open in Lando's lap.

Without much thought to the action, you press a kiss to Lando's temple and Milo's forehead, close the book, and turn off the light. 

It's this sort of love you hope to experience every day for the rest of your life.

a/n: i tried so hard to balance cute and realistic in this one, so i really hope i did them justice <3 (also i rewrote the ending eight times.)

[dracoflaco]

MY LOVEEEE 🙏🏻🙏🏻

SHUT THE FUCK UP MY RIDE OR DIE IS BACK AM I IN HEAVEN?????

[ @dracoflaco ]

[dracoflaco]

Oops sorry babe I’m not that low to call someone slurs like you 😊

Hey guys! I actually spent long minutes staring at these reblogs and debating whether it was worth responding and talking about or not. But as I'm not the type to take hate and keep quiet, I decided to talk about it.

First of all, Reia, you really seem like a person who doesn't read many fanfics for the way you put it in your text, so I'll explain the meaning of the word. Fanfic, short for "fan fiction", is a story written by a fan based on characters, universes, or real people (like the triplets). Fans create their own narratives, expanding or reimagining everything, creating their own version, which in real life does not exist.

And yes, you and Evangeline are trying to be "fanfic police" and even "sturniolo police", if you scroll through the thousands of Sturniolo Triplets fanfics, you will come across A LOT where Matt, Nick or Chris go through situations of anxiety attack, panic attack, OR where the "reader" herself goes through this, sometimes even involving situations way worse than that. Furthermore, there's thousands of fanfics describing explicit sex scenes with them, the famous smuts, does that bother you too? Because in the world of someone who writes a FANFIC in here, it doesn't.

And yes, I was indeed writing about the meet and greet situation, and this was nothing new to ANYONE in the fandom WHO READS THE FANFICS HERE. I even made a post the day before ASKING who would like to read the idea, and you want to know the news? All 200 people who voted wanted it.

I understand that you feel this story is disrespectful FOR YOU, especially because it touches on a real-life situation that may be sensitive or painful for some people. I want to assure you that it was never my intention to cause harm or disrespect anyone involved in that situation.

I myself am diagnosed with chronic anxiety, and even so, I didn't feel affected by the way I wrote. In fact, I described how I feel during MY anxiety attacks.

In no way did I make fun of the situation Matt went through, in fact, my intention in writing this story was to explore Matt's complexity and show how he deals with real problems, such as anxiety. It was a way to give more depth to his situation during the tour and highlight the importance of the emotional support he receives from "Y/N". It was not my intention to mock him, but rather to explore his humanity and the challenges he faced, and I know with all the certainty in the world that I did not mock him, much less affect the people who read the story.

Please, I ask you to reevaluate the need to throw hate at a person who has nothing to do with your outside the box opinions of what WRITERS ON THE STURNIOLO'S TUMBLR should or shouldn't write about.

There are thousands of posts on Instagram and TikTok from "fans" really mocking Matt and throwing hate at him about "their bad experiences" during one of the shows, these are the people you should be giving a piece of your mind to, not me. 🩷

[dracoflaco]

miss “oh so perfect” reia, who r u to call someone a bitch? You want me to call u slurs too? Cus I can if I want to. If u want to be those “police”, why are u even on this app? Uh huh- ykw, vante’s words are nice af but sorry to say, if I was beside her I would literally insert those curse word, love. The fact that the other one is just backing this sorry excuse of a shifter up LMAOOOO. What r u? Her minion? Honestly, who are you to say such things when you’re literally in the wrong place too 😱😱😱 anyway gotta stop before more of my not so good words came out of me. 🫶🏻🫶🏻

ps. That sorry was fake, u don’t deserve apologies 😍 ugh what a disgrace- shouldn’t waste my time on these people (if u are one though 🫨🫨)

Hey guys! I actually spent long minutes staring at these reblogs and debating whether it was worth responding and talking about or not. But as I'm not the type to take hate and keep quiet, I decided to talk about it.

First of all, Reia, you really seem like a person who doesn't read many fanfics for the way you put it in your text, so I'll explain the meaning of the word. Fanfic, short for "fan fiction", is a story written by a fan based on characters, universes, or real people (like the triplets). Fans create their own narratives, expanding or reimagining everything, creating their own version, which in real life does not exist.

And yes, you and Evangeline are trying to be "fanfic police" and even "sturniolo police", if you scroll through the thousands of Sturniolo Triplets fanfics, you will come across A LOT where Matt, Nick or Chris go through situations of anxiety attack, panic attack, OR where the "reader" herself goes through this, sometimes even involving situations way worse than that. Furthermore, there's thousands of fanfics describing explicit sex scenes with them, the famous smuts, does that bother you too? Because in the world of someone who writes a FANFIC in here, it doesn't.

And yes, I was indeed writing about the meet and greet situation, and this was nothing new to ANYONE in the fandom WHO READS THE FANFICS HERE. I even made a post the day before ASKING who would like to read the idea, and you want to know the news? All 200 people who voted wanted it.

I understand that you feel this story is disrespectful FOR YOU, especially because it touches on a real-life situation that may be sensitive or painful for some people. I want to assure you that it was never my intention to cause harm or disrespect anyone involved in that situation.

I myself am diagnosed with chronic anxiety, and even so, I didn't feel affected by the way I wrote. In fact, I described how I feel during MY anxiety attacks.

In no way did I make fun of the situation Matt went through, in fact, my intention in writing this story was to explore Matt's complexity and show how he deals with real problems, such as anxiety. It was a way to give more depth to his situation during the tour and highlight the importance of the emotional support he receives from "Y/N". It was not my intention to mock him, but rather to explore his humanity and the challenges he faced, and I know with all the certainty in the world that I did not mock him, much less affect the people who read the story.

Please, I ask you to reevaluate the need to throw hate at a person who has nothing to do with your outside the box opinions of what WRITERS ON THE STURNIOLO'S TUMBLR should or shouldn't write about.

There are thousands of posts on Instagram and TikTok from "fans" really mocking Matt and throwing hate at him about "their bad experiences" during one of the shows, these are the people you should be giving a piece of your mind to, not me. 🩷

[dracoflaco]

Vampire!Sam Golbach x NewbornVampire!Reader

Warnings: mentions of death/dying, blood warning, blood sharing, strong language, swearing, reading being anxious and on edge, semi sexual acts (when you read you’ll understand)

This will be based off of The Vampire Diaries Vamps because I’m currently rewatching it (and so in love with the Salvatore brothers)

══════════════════

While you were human, Sam always had this lingering fear of losing you one day. He knew that falling for you, a human, had it’s risks and disadvantages and what not. But, Sam wanted nothing more than to make you his for the rest of eternity.

And that’s what he did.

You snapped your eyes open, sitting up from the bed with a gasp as your hand flies to your neck, “F-fuck.” You look around, “Fuck. What the fuck happened?”

Your eyes meet Sam’s and you squint.

He holds his hands out, stepping towards you as he laughs nervously, “Dooon’t, freak out.” He tries to keep his voice calm and you swing your legs off the bed, stare burning into him, “Don’t freak out?”

You stand up, lunging towards him, but your fancy new super speed catches you off guard and Sam catches you before you bounce off his chest, “Easy now. I know you’re going through a lot.”

You raise your brows, “You fucking killed me, for one, and two. I feel like I’m trying to crawl out of my own skin, Sam!”

He nods as he takes a step back, “It’ll feel like that for.. maybe a while. But I’m here to help you, sweetheart. What else are you feeling?”

You lick your lips, pressing them together as you take a deep breath through your nose, “Everything is..”

Starting to heavily freak you out.

You look around, shaking your head, “Amplified.” You shake your hands, “How did I move that fast? What else can I do?“

Sam’s lip pulls between his teeth, “There’s a lot you can do.” Your eyes search his face and suddenly you’re hit with this ravishing hunger that feels like you’re going to die if you don’t eat - which, isn’t a lie at all, actually.

“Hungry.” You mumble before looking at the door. You go to walk towards it and Sam grabs your arm, “Y/n. You can’t-“ You pull your arm away from Sam, letting out a frustrated whine as you tilt your head, “I need to eat.”

“I know, baby, but you can’t leave my room right now. Colby went out to get you something because we weren’t.. really..” he laughs slightly, “Prepared for this.”

You feel like your body is vibrating and you look around, desperately searching for something to at least take the edge off, “F-fuck. Sam.” Your voice is shaky, whiny, “Why can I- everything I can hear, everything?”

Sam can tell you’re slowly losing your grip.

“Come here.” He walks over to you, careful not to make any sudden movements because you were incredibly volatile right now.

You were hesitant to take his hand, mainly from your brain running over every single questions and hearing every single sound you could possibly hear all at once, one right after another.

“I just..” you shake your head, laying your hands over your ears, voice growing louder, “I need everything to just shut up for a second.”

The next thing you know, you’re on the bed, straddling Sam’s lap. Your hands are on his shoulders as his back is pressed against the headboard.

His hands tightly grip your waist and he raises his brows, “Do you trust me?”

You stare at him, nodding slowly, “Of course I do.”

“I’m going to do something. It’ll help for a little while but once we do it…” he trails off, eyes staying on yours as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth.

You slide your hands down, gripping his sweatshirt, “Sam.” You beg, “Please, please. I’ll do anything. I’ll do anything. I just want it to stop.” You rest your forehead on his, your eyes on the verge of spilling tears, “Please just make it stop.”

His hands slide up your back and he slides them back to cup your cheeks, “Do you love me?”

His words quiet your brain for a second and you nod, “I love you.”

His hand brushes over your hair as you sit back, looking down at him, “I’ll love you more if you just..” you lay your hands on your head, only to perk it up when you get a whiff of blood.

Sam’s blood.

Your eyes fixate on the tiny drop sitting on the tip of his finger, tongue darting out to wet your lips as the sight makes the white of your eyes go red and the dark purple veins to roll from under your skin.

“Look at me.”

You pull your stare away from the delicious red drop on his finger and look at Sam. He blinks and tilts his head, “What I’m about to do, is a very intimate act, okay?”

You nod, fighting back the urge to lean forward and lick his finger clean, “Intimate?” You question, trying to keep yourself focused on him.

“Blood sharing, this is going to calm you down, take everything away for a little bit, b-“

“Give it to me.” You go to grab his hand but you’re flipped and pinned to the bed. You groan, flipping him back over and he groans as you push down on his neck harder.

New trait unlocked: Super Strength.

“Sam, don’t fight me on this, please.” You whine and Sam lifts his head, “The only reason you’re not dead again right now, is because I know the y/n I’m looking for is in there.”

His words soften your mood and you release your grip. He sits up, pulling you back into his lap and he grips your chin, “If you want the sounds to stop. You’ll fuckin listen to me. Okay.”

All you do is nod, your eyes on him.

“Control is the number one thing you need to have, and clearly.” He raises his brows, “You don’t have it.”

Clearly, you think with a mental eye roll, and Sam tilts his head, “Did you just mock me?” You give him a look of shock and he chuckles, “Oh yeah, I can read your mind. You’ll be able to read others when you get yourself under control.”

You sigh, growing more irritated the more he does, “Blood sharing, please.” You motion with your hand, “I’m dying over here.”

Sam takes a deep breath, “Blood sharing is basically signing a contract. Once you drink from me, you’re mine for eternity.”

You process his words before you smirk, “Well I guess it’s a good thing I want to be with you forever then, huh?”

A smile spreads across his face and he nods, “Mhm.” He nods as he parts his lips, fangs popping out so he can puncture his finger again, “Stick out your tongue, princess.”

Your eyes follow his finger as you part your lips, tongue poking out as you shiver with anticipation. You wanted relief, needed the relief - you had no idea what Colby was doing and when he’d be back.

You needed something now.

Sam’s eyes are locked on your face as he drags his finger down your tongue.

You close your eyes, a small moan leaving your lips as you savor the teasing flavor of what you’re craving most right now.

You needed more.

Before you can say anything, Sam is pulling his palm away from his mouth and he holds it up to you, “Blood straight from the vein should do the trick.”

He brushes his fingers against your chin, nodding towards his palm, “Drink.”

Without any hesitation, you hands move to the back of his and you push it to your mouth. Your fangs sink into his skin and you hear a gasp escape his lips.

You look up, your red, dark veiny eyes lock onto his and Sam is in complete awe of you. His lips parted as his eyes watch what he’s wanted to happen, happen.

He blinks his eyes lazily as his breathing grows quicker. He reaches out, laying his hand on your head to pull you into his chest.

You moan quietly against his hand, and whimpers fall from Sam’s mouth as you work your way to sucking him dry.

His tilts his head back as he caresses your head with his hand, his strength decreasing quickly, causing him to pant out quicker and quicker.

His eyes roll back, “O-okay.” He gasps quietly as he pulls his hand away and you let go, letting your head fall back as you enjoy that euphoric high feeling.

“Thank you.” You whisper out and Sam hums, “Mhm. Sleep. Colby should be back soon.” Sam needed to regain his strength before anything, and he knew that his blood would have you knocked out for at least an hour or two, which was plenty of time for him.

“Sorry I snapped your neck without telling you.” Sam mumbles weakly which causes you to giggle, “You took my vampire virginity.”

Sam’s chest heaves upward as he laughs weakly, “Go to sleep.”

He moves you down with him and you snuggle into his chest, the only thing on your mind being Sam.

══════════════════

Hi sorry if this sucks. I HAD to write this idea.

Thanks for reading, ilysm! 🖤

likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

[dracoflaco]

I- pls help me I fell off of my bed giggling and kicking my feet while reading this

You Make Loving Fun | Matt Sturniolo

Matt Sturniolo x reader

Summary: Where the sun inside Matt fell in love with the moon inside Y/N; OR, 4 moments between sunshine Matt and grumpy Y/N.

Warning: Mentions of blood and pain.

Requested?: Yes, by anon

Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Y/N has always been known for her serious expression and sarcastic humor. She had a cynical view of the world and seemed to find fault with almost everything around her. On the other hand, Matt was the complete opposite. His smile was like a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day, brightening up any room with his contagious positivity. It was as if he was determined to find the good in everything, no matter how dark it was.

The two were in the same class together at Boston high school, part of the same group of friends, which meant they did a lot of group work together, and it was precisely there where their contrasting personalities often collided. Y/N was meticulous and perfectionist in her work, while Matt preferred to approach topics with a more relaxed and laid-back attitude. This often put them at odds, but it also created an interesting dynamic.

One afternoon, during a school work meeting at the triplets' house, Y/N was particularly grumpy. She had faced a series of setbacks in her home and was on the verge of exploding. Matt, as always, tried to cheer her up with his light humor and unwavering optimism.

"You should relax a little." Matt murmured with a smile as his right hand worked quickly with his computer mouse, putting together the perfect slide for the presentation that would take place the next day, using Nick and Alahna's notes and research. "Not everything has to be so serious all the time."

Y/N rolled her eyes from her spot on the edge of Matt's bed, pushing the notebook that rested on her thighs roughly, feeling frustrated with his persistent attempt to lift her spirits. She knew he was just trying to help, but at that moment, all she wanted was some peace and quiet.

However, something inside her changed when she lifted her gaze to Matt's smiling face, who was still holding the mouse as he watched her from the corner of his eye. In that moment, the girl saw beyond the surface, beyond the facade of constant happiness. She saw the genuine kindness in his eyes, the compassion in his smile. And for the first time, something inside her crumbled, breaking the wall that had held firm for so many years.

A small smile began to form on Y/N's lips, almost imperceptible, but still present. It was a smile that lit up her entire face in a way never seen before and made her eyes shine with an inner light that had long been dormant.

Matt was surprised to see Y/N smiling, abandoning his task instantly and turning his face completely towards her, trying to make sure he was actually seeing that. It was as if he had witnessed something sacred, something few were lucky enough to see - maybe only him. The brunette was speechless, simply admiring the sight before him.

"What?" Y/N asked, noticing the look of shock on Matt's face, her smile fading almost automatically, giving way to her usual frown.

"It's just…" Matt began, struggling to find the right words. "It's the first time I've seen you actually smiling. And it's so pretty."

Y/N felt shy by the compliment but also inexplicably happy. She had never realized how her smile could affect someone so deeply, especially someone like Matt, who radiated joy wherever he went.

"You should smile more-"

"Shut up."

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The night was calm when Matt returned from his hockey practice, but the mood inside the triplets' house was far from peaceful. He walked through his bedroom door with his shoulders hunched and his face pale, showing the anguish that consumed him inside and out.

Y/N, who was sitting on his bed reading a book while she waited for him - a habit created between them, and which his parents and brothers adored - looked up when hearing the door open. Upon seeing Matt, she immediately noticed something was wrong. Her heart sank while witnessing the boy's low stance.

"Matt? Hey, what happened?" She asked, setting the book aside and quickly standing up from her previous seat, walking towards him with a frown decorating her face.

Matt didn't respond right away. Instead, he broke down when his ears finally heard the voice he had waited for so many hours, tears flowing freely down his face. He was shaking, struggling to control his emotions as the weight of his feelings enveloped him like a dense fog.

"Hey pretty boy, breathe." Y/N ordered, pulling him into an awkward but loving hug. "It's okay. Just breathe."

Matt sniffed, trying to regain control of himself. He took a few deep breaths, following her instructions, before finally finding the voice to speak.

"It was at hockey practice." The brunette began, his voice wavering with crying and raw emotions. "One of the guys on the team... he said some horrible things to me about my performance, and I-" A sob interrupted his speech, his blue eyes closing tightly in an attempt to hold in the ugly sounds.

Y/N slowly pulled away, snaking her right hand from his bicep to his head, cupping his cheek gently, looking at his face for the first time that afternoon, her movements stopping suddenly.

The girl felt a wave of anger bubbling up inside her as she saw her boyfriend's face swollen and stained with blood in strategic spots, clearly having been punched by someone else. She clenched her left fist tightly, causing her fingers to take in a pale hue, her eyes flashing with contained fury as her chest tightened with the anguish she felt emanating from Matt's body.

"Who was it?" Y/N's firm and determined voice echoed through the room like thunder as her right hand gently turned his face from side to side, her hard eyes running over his injured skin. "Who said those things to you? No, even better. Who did this to you? I'll finish him off, I swear."

Matt's eyes widened instantly, surprised by her reaction. He knew Y/N could be tough when needed - all the time - but seeing her so determined to protect him left him speechless.

His cheeks took on a reddish hue, disguised by the blood and redness caused by crying, his lips pressed together in an attempt to contain a smile while his heart accelerated involuntarily, a small wince escaping his throat with the movement of his mouth.

"I'm fine, baby-"

"You're not, and after I'm done with whoever did this to you, he won't be fine either." Y/N interrupted him rudely, raising her eyebrows in an act of confrontation, as if she was confronting him to continue the lie.

"It's okay, sunshine. Just let it go. Please?" Matt's warm tongue escaped his lips, wetting them, while his blue eyes seemed to beg her to forget about the guy and focus on himself.

"Alright." The girl let out a loud, angry sigh, rolling her eyes as she stroked his blood-stained cheek gently. "Come on, let's take care of this."

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The restaurant was busy that night, with lively conversation and laughter echoing off the walls. Y/N was sitting at a table next to Matt and his brothers, trying to enjoy the meal despite the crowd around them. However, her already dark mood was about to deepen even further.

As Y/N cut into her steak with an air of concentration, she noticed a man at the next table out of the corner of her eyes. He looked arrogant, a smug smile playing on his lips as he said horrible things about a girl to his table-mates. But it was when he looked in Y/N's direction that she felt a chill run down her spine.

Their eyes met for a brief moment, and Y/N felt a wave of discomfort spread through her. She couldn't explain why, but something about that guy made her nervous, his arrogant and sexist comments causing her body to scream, almost begging for her to do something.

Matt noticed the subtle change in Y/N's expression and followed her gaze to the next table, running his blue eyes over the unknown man's figure. He frowned, confused by the sudden intensity of Y/N's gaze, practically feeling her fury emanating from her body.

"What's wrong, beautiful?" Matt asked in an almost imperceptible whisper, leaning towards her and bringing his mouth closer to her ear, keeping his eyes on the table next to them. "Why don't we like him?"

Y/N blinked, surprised by Matt's direct question. She turned her head towards him slowly, frowning and running her eyes over his curious and playful expression, their noses almost touching with their proximity.

"You're so annoying, do you know that?" The girl asked in a cynical tone, raising her right eyebrow as she assessed him with her eyes.

"But you still love me." Matt replied quickly, as if he already had the answer on the tip of his tongue. A smirk grew on his lips as he draped his right arm over the back of the wooden chair his girlfriend sat on, caressing the skin of her exposed shoulder with his fingertips gently.

"Doesn't make you less annoying."

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Y/N was busy in the kitchen of the large room in her house that she shared with the triplets, preparing a special meal to welcome the boys' parents, Jimmy and Mary Lou, who were about to arrive for a visit in Los Angeles. She was determined to impress them with her cooking skills and make the couple's first day in the bustling city worth it.

While stirring a pan of sauce, Y/N heard footsteps approaching and soon Matt's figure left the small hall that led to their room and entered the kitchen with a beaming smile on his face, his feet taking him closer to his girl almost automatically.

"Hi sunshine, need help?" He asked, stepping forward to grab an apron and approach the stove, his blue eyes darting over all the ingredients laid out as his brain tried to process what she was making.

Y/N looked up at him, her face hardened with concentration as her right hand never stopped moving the spoon.

"No, thank you." The girl responded quickly, shaking her head and returning her gaze to the sauce below her. "I can do this on my own."

Matt frowned, ignoring her answer and rescuing a steak knife from the cutlery drawer, extending his free hand towards the still raw meat, ready to cut it into ideal sizes.

"Matt, I said I can do it myself." Y/N repeated slowly, as if she were speaking to a child, casting a furtive glance at him from the corner of her eye.

"I know you can, petal." The boy murmured softly, putting down the knife and raising his now free hand towards his girl, lightly pressing his warm palm against her still arm, caressing her skin. "But I want to be here with you to help in some way. It doesn't have to be everything or nothing."

Y/N sighed, feeling a little guilty about her own reaction. She didn't want to push Matt away, especially when he was just trying to be caring and helpful.

"Okay... I'm sorry." Her apology escaped in a barely there whisper, her teeth catching her bottom lip in a firm grip.

"What are we having for dinner today?" Chris's loud and excited voice echoed through the living room and kitchen as the boy climbed the stairs that led him from his room, interrupting the moment between the couple, eliciting a laugh from Matt and an eye roll from Y/N.

"None of your business."

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

My requests are closed, but my asks are always open ♡

And remember to treat people with kindness always!

~ taglist:

@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @sturniolowhore @luvr4miya @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @hearts4chriss @cupidzsq @dracoflaco @rootbeerworshiper @junnniiieee07 @elliesturniolo1 @sstvrnioloo @lightsgore @gidgett11037 @ksskianshd @soimightlikeoldmen69 @ldr-sl0t @breeloveschris @its-jennarose @sainzzsturns @ecliphttlunar @soso-scarlettolivia @sturnolio-luvs @bitchydragonparadise @lvrsturn @freshsturns @h3arts4harry @patscorner @strnilolo @bernardsbendystraws @mattsneezing @poetatorturadaa @meg-sturniolo @orangeypepsi @jnkvivi @chrisactualwife @watermelonreid @fratbrochrisgf @elordilover @iammattswife

(If you want to be added to the taglist, please comment here)

(if you asked to be on the taglist but isn't tagged above, it's because you have set up your account to not be tagged by accounts that don't follow you back/you don't follow)

[dracoflaco]

OH. MY. GOD. I. LOVE. THIS

Anxiety On Tour | Matt Sturniolo

Matt Sturniolo x reader

Summary: Where Y/N is just another fan at one of the Let's Trip Tour shows, until it comes time for the Meet&Greet. Things get out of hand for Matt, and she ends up being the only one who manages to calm him down.

Warning: Panick attack, anxiety.

Requested?: Yes, by @patscorner

Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

The stage was illuminated by a myriad of lights, as the bustling crowd eagerly pressed near the front. Y/N could feel the electricity in the air as the beats of upbeat music keep echoing throughout the venue from the big speakers. It was the beginning of the much-awaited Sturniolo Triplets show from the Let's Trip Tour.

She couldn't believe she was finally there, in the middle of the action, about to witness the boys she'd followed through a screen for years, finally face to face. With her heart pounding in her chest, Y/N let herself be carried away by the infectious energy of the crowd as she got closer and closer to the stage.

The music reached a crescendo, and then, suddenly, they appeared. Matt, Nick, and Chris entered the stage, radiating a magnetic presence that immediately captured everyone's attention. Y/N held her breath as her eyes found Matt, the boy she had never seen in person, but with whom she had a huge crush for months, in the flesh right in front of her. He looked even more stunning out of screen, with his messy hair and shy smile.

As the greetings sentences were let out by the three's microphones, Y/N felt a wave of emotion course through her body. It was as if every cell within her was vibrating in tune with them, with the pulsing energy of everyone around her.

As the show progressed, Y/N couldn't take her eyes off Matt. Every laugh, every saying, seemed to hypnotize her even more. She wondered if he could feel her gaze on him or if that was just her desire playing with her mind.

When it was time for a break between games, Matt grabbed the microphone and began speaking to the audience. His voice was soft and engaging, making everyone around him feel like they were having an intimate conversation with him. Y/N held her breath, hanging on every word he said.

As Matt interacted with everyone, his eyes swept across the crowd and, for a brief moment, seemed to meet Y/N's. She felt her face blush intensely, and a shy smile formed on her lips before she looked away, embarrassed, holding back the immense urge to scream at having been seen by him.

As the show continued, Y/N found herself caught up in a rollercoaster of emotions. The pulsating energy of the music, the interactions, the magnetic presence of the triplets, and, most of all, Matt's closeness left her ecstatic. Every moment was like a dream come true, and she refused to blink for fear of missing even a second.

When the stage lights finally went out and the final words were given, Y/N felt a mixture of ecstasy and melancholy by the feeling of the long-awaited moment coming to an end, but little did she know that the night was just beginning.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Y/N waited anxiously in line for the meet and greet. Her heart was beating so hard that it felt like it was about to jump out of her chest while her right leg bounced up and down in anxiety. Every minute that passed felt like an eternity, but at the same time, she wanted the moment to last forever.

As she watched the fans in front of her greet the triplets with beaming smiles, Y/N wondered what it would be like to be so close to them. She could barely contain her excitement as she approached the door that led to the meet and greet room where traps played loudly from the speakers, and colorful lights painted the walls.

Finally, her turn has come. Her stomach fluttered nervously as she entered the room, and her eyes instantly locked on Matt, who was there, so close and so real.

The three were side by side, Nick had a relaxed posture as he placed aside a teddy bear that he had probably received from the previous fan, while Chris glanced at Matt, seeming to watch him closely.

Matt was feeling fine until seconds before, but something inside him started to stir. His heart beating faster, his breathing became irregular, and a feeling of panic came over him.

So, when Y/N walked over to greet Matt with a hug, she noticed something was different, off. His arms were shaking, and his eyes looked a little lost, as if he were fighting some internal battle. Now up close, she could also notice how rigid his posture was and how his hands were clenched into a firm fist.

Y/N felt a wave of worry run through her own body, struggling internally over what to do, but ended up deciding not to expose Matt's situation in front of anyone, remaining silent. Instead, she smiled warmly and tried to keep the conversation light, hoping not to bother him with intrusive questions.

"Hi, Matt." The girl greeted softly, trying to ignore the nervousness that came over her body. "It's amazing to finally meet you in person. How are you?"

Matt lifted his head towards her for the first time, appearing to have only noticed her presence at that moment, trying to open a smile like hers, but his lips were trembling to the point where it came weaker than he wanted to.

Y/N could see the tension in his blue eyes as he tried to hide his discomfort, wondering what had happened to make him react in such a way so suddenly. Meanwhile, Matt tried to convince himself that it was nothing and that it would soon pass.

But it didn't pass. Instead, the feeling of panic grew, enveloping him like a dense fog. He felt like he was suffocating, like the world was crumbling around him, while his mind convinced him that he was alone.

As Y/N moved to greet Chris and Nick individually, keeping a brief and quick conversation - following the pattern imposed by the team that observed them -, she noticed how Matt seemed increasingly agitated, her own mind racing in an eagerness to help him, but the fear of reaction from the public, the team and even the triplets themselves held her back.

Until the picture moment. Y/N felt her heart sink as she felt Matt's breathing become more rapid and shallow as they prepared to take the group photo. She knew she couldn't just stand by and watch as he fought the monsters of his own mind.

With a lump in her throat and trembling hands, Y/N removed her left arm from around Chris, muttering a quick apology before turning to Matt, blocking the view of the line of people behind them, creating a small haven of privacy amidst the chaos of the room. The girl lifted her head slightly, searching his eyes with her own, desperately looking for any sign of life inside the blue orbs.

"Matt, hey." She began, her voice soft and comforting, acting as a balm to his troubled soul. "Are you okay?"

Matt's eyes widened in panic as he realized that the disturbances in his mind became visible enough to be seen by someone else. He swallowed hard, forcing himself not to look at his brothers or the fans behind the girl in front of him, the fear of receiving disappointed or judgmental looks growing in his chest.

He limited himself to just shaking his head, unable to utter a word. His eyes were unfocused and lost, and his nails pierced the palm of his hands - probably drawing blood - with the force he was squeezing the area, trying to maintain control of the uncontrollable emotions.

Y/N could see the terror on his face, and her heart ached for him.

She turned her head slightly and passed her eyes briefly over Nick and Chris, noticing how the two now had a rigid posture, ready to make a move as soon as necessary. Chris's eyes carried great uncertainty, as if he was afraid of leaving Matt in the care of a stranger, but Nick's hand, which held his biceps surreptitiously, prevented him from acting on impulse.

Y/N turned her attention back to Matt, trapping her bottom lip between her teeth in a thoughtful act before sighing softly.

"Can I hug you?" Her voice came out in a whisper as low as the music that surrounded them, but loud enough for him to hear it, and she was sure of it when she received a small nod in response.

Without hesitation, the girl enveloped him in a warm hug, holding him tightly against her chest as he trembled. She could feel the tension in his body, the way he struggled to control his breathing and calm his nerves. Y/N pressed her fingers into strategic points on his back, touching the hard knots with every inch of skin, lightly massaging the covered area.

"Everything is okay." Y/N whispered softly, snaking her right hand up his shoulder to the back of his head, interlacing her fingers in Matt's messy curls, stroking them carefully while guiding him to lay his head on her right shoulder. "You're safe here. No one is gonna hurt you. Just breathe with me, okay? Follow my breathing."

Y/N began to breathe slowly and deeply, the warm air hitting Matt's ear, helping him to follow her rhythm. A disguised smile grew on her face as she felt the boy's back rise and fall in an uneven rhythm below her left hand, knowing he was trying as hard as he could in that moment.

Little by little, she felt the tension in his body ease, his tremors becoming less intense as he finally reacted, clinging to her for comfort. His large but so fragile hands at that moment held her arm tightly, searching desperately for support and balance.

For a few precious moments, Y/N and Matt remained like that, joined in a comforting embrace, and lost in their own world of calm and safety. The sounds of Chris' agitated voice shouting for water to one part of the team and Nick's voice demanding the other part to remove the fans that were still there were all muffled against both of their ears, just the unison rhythm of their breathing and the beats of their connected hearts echoing around their bodies.

When Matt finally pulled away, his eyes quickly met Y/N's, overflowing with gratitude and fascination, feeling flattered to have had the opportunity to meet a girl so empathetic to the point of helping him without a second thought.

His mind searched for words to thank her, but to Y/N, he didn't need to say anything; his eyes said it all.

"How can I-" Matt began, clearing his throat briefly as he heard his own voice come out hoarse and worn out by the whirlwind of emotions that he went through in a short space of time. "How can I thank you? Repay you for what you did for me..."

Y/N shook her head, interrupting his sentence, her own smile widening and brightening her features as her eyes remained fixed on the blue ones, who now seemed to be taking their own time to carefully analyze her expressions, seeming mesmerized.

Matt's warm hands suddenly felt heavier against the exposed skin of her arm, a shiver running down her spine as she noticed how close they were physically, the boy's scent filling her nostrils with an inescapable force, leaving her dizzy and lost.

"I think you owe me a picture."

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

A/N²: I hated it, so I'm so sorry if it sucked badly ;(

My requests are closed, but my asks are always open ♡

And remember to treat people with kindness always!

~ taglist:

@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @sturniolowhore @luvr4miya @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @hearts4chriss @cupidzsq @dracoflaco @rootbeerworshiper @junnniiieee07 @elliesturniolo1 @sstvrnioloo @lightsgore @gidgett11037 @ksskianshd @soimightlikeoldmen69 @ldr-sl0t @breeloveschris @its-jennarose @sainzzsturns @ecliphttlunar @soso-scarlettolivia @sturnolio-luvs @bitchydragonparadise @lvrsturn @freshsturns @h3arts4harry @patscorner @strnilolo @bernardsbendystraws @mattsneezing @poetatorturadaa @meg-sturniolo @orangeypepsi @jnkvivi @chrisactualwife @watermelonreid @fratbrochrisgf @iammattswife

(If you want to be added to the taglist, please comment here)

[dracoflaco]

👏🏻stop👏🏻tagging👏🏻SAM👏🏻in👏🏻COLBY👏🏻fanfictions👏🏻 🗣🗣🗣

I'm just tryna read some sam fics and the hashtag is overwhelmed by fucking colby 😭😭😭 don't get me wrong, love them both. But y'all sleep on sam 😔☝🏻

[dracoflaco]

Oh I’m so sad … he’s so handsome :(

[dracoflaco]

Atp I’ll take anyone that wants to be my bf 😔😔😔 LÊ YOURE RESPONSIBLE FOR MY ILLNESS

Roslyn | Matt Sturniolo

Matt Sturniolo x reader

Summary: Where a storm is happening and Y/N is afraid of thunder, making her seek comfort in her best friend's brother arms, Matt.

Warning: Thunderstorm.

Requested?: Yes, by anon

Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Nick's room was a welcoming haven for Y/N. The walls decorated with frames and posters and the rustic wooden furniture provided a feeling of security and comfort. She had spent countless nights there, in his soft, cozy bed, surrounded by the familiarity of her best friend.

However, that night, the tranquil atmosphere was abruptly interrupted by the distant roar of thunder. Y/N curled up under the sheets, her heart beating wildly in her chest. She has always been afraid of storms, ever since she was a child. The thunderous sound of thunder and the flashes of lightning in the black sky left her petrified with fear.

With each thunderclap, she could feel the anxiety building up inside her, squeezing her heart like an iron fist. Her body shook involuntarily, and she struggled to control her rapid breathing. The feeling of helplessness overwhelmed her, leaving her unable to move, as if she were trapped in an endless nightmare.

Y/N knew she needed to calm down. She closed her eyes tightly, trying to block out the frightening sound echoing through the top floor window. The girl took a deep breath, trying to find some inner peace, but fear continued to envelop her like a relentless shadow.

Deciding to seek comfort, Y/N reached out into the darkness, searching the comforting warmth of the boy beside her. She tried to shake him gently, whispering his name in an urgent tone. However, Nick remained motionless and sunk into a deep sleep, only a light mumble escaping his throat.

Frustration and despair began to build within her. She couldn't face this storm alone. The girl tried to curl up against his back, but her body exposed to the room had no effect in calming her down, Nick remaining oblivious to her silent call, lost in distant dreams.

Y/N bit her bottom lip, fighting back the tears of frustration that threatened to spill over. She felt so small and powerless in the face of the force of nature outside. The sound of thunder seemed to grow louder, echoing in her mind like a relentless reminder of her vulnerability.

With a resigned sigh, Y/N got up from the bed, determined to get help. She knew exactly where to go.

Sneaking out the white door and down the stairs, careful not to make any loud sound, Y/N arrived at Matt's bedroom door, knocking softly on the wooden surface. She waited for a moment, her heart beating nervously in her chest as her right leg bounced incessantly in anxiety until she finally heard a sleepy murmur coming from inside the room.

The door slowly opened, revealing Matt's silhouette on the threshold. His eyes were downcast and sleepy, his brow furrowed in confusion and anger at being woken up, but his expression immediately brightened upon seeing Y/N standing there.

"Y/N, hey, what are you doing here? Are you okay?" Matt asked, his voice soft and concerned as his eyes took in the way her body was shaking.

Y/N swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that threatened to escape. She moved slightly closer to Matt, her arms crossed tightly against her chest, seeking the comfort she so desperately needed.

"I... I can't sleep with this storm, Matt. I'm so scared, and Nick won't wake up." The girl confessed in a shaky whisper, her chest burning with embarrassment for waking him up with something so... trivial. "I'm sorry for-"

Without hesitation, Matt wrapped Y/N in a comforting hug, interrupting her sentence while pulling her closer and holding her firmly against his chest, his arms wrapping around her shoulders with just the right amount of strength. He could feel the tremors that ran through her body, almost sensing the palpable fear that consumed her insides.

"It's okay, sweet girl. I'm here now." Matt whispered, gently stroking the girl's hair with his right hand. His presence was like a balm to Y/N's grief-stricken soul, slowly dispelling the shadows of her fear. "Come on."

The boy took a few steps back, eventually pulling her along before slowly closing the door. He kept his left arm firmly around her shoulders as he straightened his posture, beginning his slow steps towards his unmade bed.

With his free hand, the brunette pulled the duvet down before gently guiding Y/N to the mattress, helping her lie down on the side he didn't sleep on. He adjusted the strands of her loose hair so that they were not on her face, watching her eyes blink slowly in sleep, her eyelashes trembling with each thunderclap.

Matt quickly walked over to his own side of the bed, laying down on the still warm surface, right where he was previously lying, before pulling the duvet up, tucking it tightly around Y/N's body so that not a piece of her skin covered by thin pajamas would be exposed to the freezing air.

He laid down on his side and rested his head on his pillow, extending his left arm - which was against the mattress - and, with his free hand, gently pulled Y/N, encouraging her to get closer. The girl quickly got the message, pressing her cold body against Matt's warm one and laying her head on his outstretched bicep, her legs shrinking and her knees pressing against the boy's abdomen, a sigh of relief escaping her nose almost instantly.

Matt encircled her torso with his right arm, bringing her closer - if that was possible - and lowering his face, sealing Y/N's forehead with his lips tenderly, conveying a sense of safety and protection that she so desperately craved. The brunette caressed the warm skin of her face with the tip of his nose gently, whispering small words of affection and reassurance, muffling the sound of thunder against Y/N's ears while his hands caressed the back of her shoulders.

As the night progressed, Y/N gradually felt calmer and more serene in Matt's arms. The sound of thunder still echoed in the distance, but now she was no longer alone.

"Thank you, Matty." Her voice, now sleepy and low, came out of her mouth in a whisper, her eyes gradually closing as the sound of slow breathing and rhythmic heartbeats that echoed from the his larger body acted as a natural tranquilizer for her.

"Anything for you, petal."

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

My requests are closed, but my asks are always open ♡

And remember to treat people with kindness always!

~ taglist:

@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @sturniolowhore @luvr4miya @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @hearts4chriss @cupidzsq @dracoflaco @rootbeerworshiper @junnniiieee07 @elliesturniolo1 @sstvrnioloo @lightsgore @gidgett11037 @ksskianshd @soimightlikeoldmen69 @ldr-sl0t @breeloveschris @its-jennarose @sainzzsturns @ecliphttlunar @soso-scarlettolivia @sturnolio-luvs @bitchydragonparadise @lvrsturn @freshsturns @h3arts4harry @patscorner @strnilolo @bernardsbendystraws @mattsneezing @poetatorturadaa @meg-sturniolo @orangeypepsi @jnkvivi @chrisactualwife @watermelonreid @iammattswife

(If you want to be added to the taglist, please comment here)

[dracoflaco]

DOWN BAD FOR THIS DFSJEFWIWHIW (fuck it if i can’t have him)

You belong with me | Matt Sturniolo

Matt Sturniolo x reader

Summary: Where Y/N and Matt love each other, but don't seem to have the courage to declare themselves; OR, where Matt belongs to Y/N but can't seem to understand it.

Warning: Crying, unrequited love, angst (with a happy ending).

Requested?: Yes, by @freshsturns

Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

It was a typical fall morning in Boston, with golden leaves dancing in the wind and the fresh scent of coffee wafting through the air. Y/N walked down the familiar street, her steps synchronized with the rapid beat of her heart, her mind full of possibilities of how to break the news; she would spend three months at her father's house, as her mother needed to travel for work continuously during that short period.

Her eyes fell on the Sturniolo's house, where the triplets, Matt, Nick, and Chris, had lived since they were teenagers.

A mixture of feelings invaded her whenever she passed by.

She and the triplets have been inseparable since childhood. They grew up together, shared secrets, laughs, and unforgettable moments. But there was something deeper between Y/N and Matt, something she held deep in her heart and feared revealing.

Matt was the middle brother out of the three, with his dark hair and piercing dead blue eyes that seemed to read her soul. He was Y/N's confidant, the one with whom she shared her most intimate dreams and her deepest fears. But there was a secret she never dared to confess: her love for him.

As Y/N walked towards the Sturniolo's house, she felt her heart beating wildly. She knew she would see Matt soon, and that thought made her nervous and excited at the same time. They saw each other every day, but each meeting was like a new chapter in an endless book.

Upon entering the cozy home, Y/N was greeted with warm smiles and affectionate hugs from Jimmy and Mary Lou. Matt, with his captivating gaze and worn-out jeans, stared at her eyes for a brief moment. A shiver ran down Y/N's spine, but she quickly looked away, fearing he might read her feelings in her gaze.

Throughout that day, Y/N and Matt shared conversations like they always did while spending time together, lost in their own bubble of happiness. The sound of their laughter echoed through the cold streets, filling the air with a contagious energy, enjoying the last minutes together before the girl had to go far away.

Matt's hair was messed up by the wind, attracting her attention, who glanced at him, lost in her thoughts. She wondered if he could hear her frantic heartbeat every time he smiled when his hair got in his mouth.

But there was a palpable tension between the two, an invisible elephant in the room that neither dared to address.

At night, when Y/N finally returned home, she sat on her bed and let the tears fall silently while preparing herself to pack her bags. She wondered if she would ever have the courage to confess her feelings to Matt or if she would continue hiding them forever.

Meanwhile, across the street, Matt was lying in his own bed, lost in thoughts about Y/N. He wondered if she could ever feel the same way about him. If she could look at him with the same love-filled eyes that he always cast her way. But the fear of ruining their friendship prevented him from taking any action.

Thus, the two friends remained trapped in a painful impasse, their hearts connected by invisible strings that neither of them dared to break.

Y/N hoped that the next three months would do something good for her.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Time had passed too fast, and soon, Y/N was back in Boston. The sun shone high in the summer sky as the girl left her house that morning, leaving her unopened suitcase to organize later, the birds chirped happily along with the frantic beats of her heart, yearning to see her best friends again.

For some reason, she knew something was different, that something had changed, but she wasn't prepared for what she would find when she met with him that afternoon.

Upon arriving at the brothers' house, Y/N was greeted by a strange silence, even with the cheerful voice of Mary Lou - who greeted her happily at the front door.

Y/N quickly found Matt sitting on the couch, next to a blonde girl, with long straight hair and an artificial smile on her lips. She was the complete opposite of Y/N in every possible way.

She felt a pang of discomfort when she saw Matt so close to that girl, her heart clenching when she noticed the brunette's arm around her shoulders, knowing the inevitable; Matt had met his perfect - or not - match.

She tried to push those feelings away and tried to convince herself that she was happy for him, but the truth was that a wave of sadness washed over her and found home in her heart.

Matt's new girlfriend, who introduced herself as Tiffany, looked at Y/N with a look of superiority, as if she was sizing her up and down. She emanated an aura of arrogance and pretension that made Y/N feel out of place and inadequate almost instantly.

Her slender and tall body was shaped by a mini skirt and a tank top that hugged her tiny waist perfectly, her feet covered in sparkling high heels - too much for a normal day in Boston -, Y/N feeling suddenly uncomfortable about the large t-shirt that covered her entire upper body.

As she watched Matt and Tiffany together, Y/N felt a tumultuous mix of emotions. The sounds of the video game coming from the television and Nick and Chris' excited screams echoing muffledly into her ears as she noticed how Matt hadn't looked directly at her eyes, not even once.

She wondered if he had really forgotten her so easily, if their friendship no longer meant anything to him. She felt betrayed and abandoned, as if a piece of her heart had been ripped out without warning.

As the day progressed, Y/N tried to keep herself occupied with the other two brothers, trying to push away the painful thoughts that threatened to consume her. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't shake the vision of Matt and Tiffany together, acting like they were the perfect couple.

She was so different from what Y/N imagined Matt's type to be.

When it was finally time to go home, Y/N said goodbye to Matt with a forced smile on her lips. She tried to hide the pain in her eyes, trying to appear indifferent to the fact that he had found someone new. But deep down, she knew that it had changed everything between them both, and nothing would ever be the same as it was.

As she walked home, Y/N felt tears streaming down her face. She felt lost and confused, not knowing how to deal with the new reality that was opening up before her.

She wondered if Matt would ever see that she was the right girl for him, that he belonged with her.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The restaurant was buzzing with the sound of excited voices and cutlery clattering against plates. Matt, Y/N, Nick, and Chris were sitting at a table in the corner, enjoying a quiet lunch together after weeks of not hanging out as a group.

"Matt, can we talk?" Y/N began as she noticed Chris and Nick immersed in a random topic. Her voice was soft but filled with concern, her eyes trying to decipher the storm of emotions that seemed to cross the brunette's face.

"Of course, Y/N. What do you want to talk about?" Matt nodded, his gaze meeting hers momentarily, before lowering it back to his plate, a fake smile resting on his face.

Y/N took a deep breath, trying to find the right words to express what she was feeling.

"I couldn't help but notice how things have changed between us lately. Ever since you started... dating Tiffany, it seems like we're more distant."

"I know, Y/N. I'm sorry that I've been distant. It's just... Tiffany is complicated. She's very different from... Well, it doesn't matter." Matt spoke in a low tone, looking embarrassed as his hands nervously played with the metal cutlery.

Before Y/N could respond, Matt's phone started ringing, interrupting the conversation, and catching the attention of Nick and Chris, who stopped what they were saying and looked at them with interest. Matt huffed out an apology before looking at his cell screen, frowning as he read Tiffany's flashing name.

"Sorry, Y/N. I really need to take this." Matt said, quickly getting up from the table and taking a few steps away to answer the call, ignoring the worried looks his brothers were sending him.

Y/N watched as Matt spoke on the phone, his face tense and worried. She could hear Tiffany's muffled screams on the other end of the line, and a knot formed in her stomach as she realized the argument was about her, her name escaping the boy's lips more times than expected.

She could feel Nick and Chris's gazes burning into the side of her head, and she knew they wanted to say something, but her attention was too focused on Matt to try and get information out of the pair.

As the argument continued, Y/N observed in detail Matt's reactions, the lines of tension on his t the clenched fists at his side. She could feel the anguish he was experiencing.

When Matt finally hung up the phone, he returned to the table with a tired look in his eyes, his teeth biting down hard on his bottom lip, as if he was in an internal struggle between what to do and what not to do. He looked at Y/N, as if he was about to say something, but then looked away, unable to find the words.

Y/N quickly reached out to touch his hand, a small show of silent support, a frown full of worry taking her expression.

"Matt, hey, are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I just..." Matt nodded, a weak smile playing on his lips, the same one that Y/N saw every day since he started dating Tiffany, but so different from the one that was directed to her three months before. "I just need to sort some things out with Tiffany." He cleared his throat quickly, tearing his eyes away from her and focusing them on his brothers. "Can you guys keep going without me? I really need to go."

"If I say no, it won't change what you think, so do whatever you want, Matt." Chris shrugged, his gaze rigid like never seen before by Y/N.

She tried to meet Nick's eyes, searching for some kind of explanation, but all she saw was sadness and worry.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Night was falling over Boston when Matt left Tiffany's house, his heart heavy and his mind turbulent. The rain, like a perfect background actor, fell in torrents, mixing with the tears that ran down his face as he walked aimlessly through the wet streets, having left his car in the hands of Chris - the one who knew most about driving after himself.

The boy allowed his feet to take him where they wanted to go, his vision blurred, and his mind too confused to decide anything at that moment, his heart screaming for refuge.

And that's how he found himself standing in front of Y/N's house, his safe haven in the midst of the storm that had been his life since he could remember.

With a heavy heart, the brunette walked to the side wall outside of the two-story house, his blue eyes only seeing the window that he already knew very well. Agilely, Matt quickly climbed the expanse of concrete, the lighting from the girl's room helping and guiding him.

The sound of light knocks against the closed glass echoed through the room, and it was and understandment to say that Y/N was surprised to see Matt outside her room, hanging from her window, drenched from the rain and with eyes red from crying.

The girl quickly shot up from her seat on her pretty made-up bed, running towards him and opening the window in seconds, her hands working on pulling him inside the cozy and warm room, wrapping him in a comforting hug, ignoring the feeling of his wet clothes against her dry and warm pajamas.

"Matt, what happened? Why are you here like this? What...?" Y/N asked frantically, worried. She pulled back a few inches, rubbing her left hand over Matt's cold arm, while her right worked on brushing away the soggy strands of hair that stuck to his forehead and cheeks.

"I broke up with Tiffany." His voice sounded choked and hoarse from crying, his lips trembling without a pause. "I finally realized how toxic she was being, and I couldn't go on like this anymore. I didn't-" A sob broke through his throat, his eyes closing tightly as his hands gripped Y/N's bent elbow, seeking some stability.

Y/N watched him with compassion, stroking the cold skin of his face gently with the tip of her right fingers. She felt like screaming from seeing him in such a state, her heart hurting as if someone was squeezing it with their bare hands.

She wondered how he couldn't see that she was the right one for him, not Tiffany. She knew all his favorite songs, the movies he loved, the places he dreamed of visiting. She was the only one who truly understood him, who knew his deepest dreams, fears, and hopes.

Over the years, Y/N has been by Matt's side through every important moment in his life. She watched him grow, face challenges, and overcome obstacles. She was the person he went to in the middle of the night when he needed someone to talk to, the voice that made him laugh when he was about to cry.

And yet, even with all this intimacy and deep connection, Matt didn't seem to realize what was right in front of him. He continued to seek love and validation elsewhere, ignoring the fact that Y/N was always there, waiting for him with an open heart.

And because of that, he got hurt. Again.

"Oh darling, I'm so sorry. Come here, sweet boy." Y/N asked in a gentle whisper, guiding him to her bed in slow steps.

"N-no, I'm going to wet your whole bed." Matt muttered between sniffles, his right hand gripping her arm gently while his left one rubbed his eyes angrily, trying to stop the tears from continuing to flow.

"It's okay, I don't mind, honey." The girl insisted, helping him sit on the edge of the mattress next to her pillow while moving his hand away from his face, preventing him from hurting himself. "Stay here, I'll go get a towel. I think I still have some of your clothes too."

While Matt vented between sobs about his problematic relationship with Tiffany, Y/N listened attentively, moving around the room behind her hairdryer, clean towels and pieces of clothing that the brunette had left there when he visited her house.

She could feel the pain and anguish he was feeling, and she was determined to be there for him, no matter how much her heart burned to see him suffer for another girl.

The girl quickly found everything she needed, beginning the task of wiping Matt's wet, dark hair with the fluffy towel and wiping away the raindrops from his skin, her body standing stiffly between the boy's legs, being careful not to cross any barrier he had placed between the two of them.

As Matt spoke and Y/N advised him, she could feel his blue eyes fixed on her face, his hands too close to her legs as she finished drying him, feeling her cheeks burn like fire, knowing for sure that they were as red as the color itself.

"Y/N, there's something I need to tell you." Matt whispered, his tone low - as if he didn't want to burst the bubble that seemed to surround them - but still echoing throughout the room with force. "I only started dating Tiffany because... because I was trying to get you out of my mind."

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise, her hands stopping their movements abruptly, the wet towel feeling heavy on her skin. The girl stared at the wall behind Matt for a few seconds, processing what he had said before finally looking at him, all the words caught in her throat as tears glistened in her eyes.

What?

"I know it was wrong, and I'm so sorry." Matt continued, his voice strained as his eyes seemed to search hers desperately. “But I realized that no matter how hard I tried, I could never forget you. Because... because I love you, Y/N. Since the first day I met you, I have loved you. Every time I close my eyes, it's your face that I see. You're always in my thoughts, in my dreams, everywhere, and nothing I tried could make you disappear."

Y/N's heart raced in her chest a mile a minute as Matt's words echoed in her mind. An overwhelming mix of happiness and relief filling her veins at finally hearing the words she had waited for so many years.

"Matt, this is..." Y/N shook her head as an easy smile spread across her face automatically. "I love you too." She confessed, her voice almost a whisper, lowering her face, her eyes finally meeting his electrifying ones, feeling as if they were piercing her soul, which now, exposed, no longer had a barrier to hide her true feelings. "I love you more than I ever thought possible to love anyone."

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

I'm SO sorry if this ended up being a little rushed or too fast, I don't write series, and I tried to make everything happen in only one fic. I'm sorry if it didn't turn out how you'd like it ;(

My requests are open! Please read my rules before sending anything ♡

And remember to treat people with kindness always!

~ taglist:

@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @sturniolowhore @luvr4miya @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @hearts4chriss @cupidzsq @dracoflaco @rootbeerworshiper @junnniiieee07 @elliesturniolo1 @sstvrnioloo @lightsgore @gidgett11037 @ksskianshd @soimightlikeoldmen69 @ldr-sl0t @breeloveschris @its-jennarose @sainzzsturns @ecliphttlunar @soso-scarlettolivia @sturnolio-luvs @bitchydragonparadise @lvrsturn @freshsturns @h3arts4harry @patscorner @strnilolo @bernardsbendystraws @mattsneezing @poetatorturadaa @meg-sturniolo @orangeypepsi @jnkvivi @watermelonreid @iammattswife

(If you want to be added to the taglist, please comment here)

[dracoflaco]

🥹🥹🥹

casual | m. sturniolo

i’ve been scheming for weeks !! (actually started this before move over AND voice. so.)

basically i’m obsessed with this song

summary: the most dangerous label is the casual one; or you both want more

warnings: matt x fem!reader, use of y/n, ANGST, cursing, happy ending bc i’m a sucker & a lost cause

wc: 6.5k

the sun is dipping behind the horizon, painting the sky pink and orange. you have your window rolled down, letting the salt air breeze pick your hair up as you rest against the car door. matt has elmer’s new song playing on aux, something lofi with a bit of spanish mixed in.

“like what you see?” he speaks up, taking his eyes off the road for a second to look over at you. he stares for a second, your skin illuminated by the fading rays of the sun, kissing the tops of your cheeks and giving you a warm glow.

you press yourself up to sit properly and catch his hand resting on the center console. you always loved that he drives with his left hand, the right always close enough for you to touch. 

“it’s pretty,” you say, poking your head back out of the window, looking overhead at the passing trees, “the palms are so tall.” matt squeezes your hand, and when you look back up he’s already looking at you, smiling when you meet his eyes.. his hair looks lighter in the setting sun, the side of his face lit up all golden and warm. you bite your lip and smile, turning away with a slight flush.

“it’s green,” you tell him and he flicks his head back forward, muttering a curse under his breath.

“my bad,” he admits, refusing to drop your hand. 

it looked like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t, just takes a breath and lets it out before turning back to the road.

when the car pulls into the garage you reach to the back to grab your overnight bag. matt’s already out of the car, coming over to your side to open your door, “c’mon,” he says in that silly high pitched voice, just to hear you giggle.

you make your way to his bedroom, knowing the ins and outs of the triplet’s house like the back of your hand. matt follows behind you, his footsteps echoing amongst the hardwood floors. 

“i can’t wait to lay down,” you sigh, the effects of the sun's heat catching up with you now that you’re in the cool, air conditioned house.

“yeah, i’m feelin’ pretty tired too,” matt agrees, his voice heavy and suddenly cloaked by fatigue.

you’d been out all day, shopping on melrose, walking by the beach. dinner and ice cream and the beating sun soaked up all your energy. nothing sounded better than getting cozy in matt’s bed and watching a movie, maybe catching a bit of a nap before deciding to head home. you knew he’d insist on driving you, and that always hurt more than you’d like to admit.

the two of you weren’t dating, he wasn’t your boyfriend and you told yourself you didn’t mind. it wasn’t a very convincing lie though, most everyone around you could tell. it’s not that you hadn’t talked about it, you had, there were just things getting in the way.

matt was worried about how his fans would react, and he absolutely did not want it to be at your expense. you hated the thought of pushing him, like forcing him or asking too much, being too needy would only drive him away. all your friends had told you to stop, that you were only going to get yourself hurt, but you’d honestly rather have half of him and a broken heart than none of him at all. 

you never doubted that he cares about you, in fact you know he does. he always picks you up from classes, knows your order at all your favourite fast food places and keeps an extra toothbrush in the bathroom for you. it’s things like that that make the title of causal or just seeing each other sting a little bit more.

here though, all settled in matt’s bed, you try not to think about it too hard. there’s some liam neeson movie he insisted on showing you playing on the tv, and you’re happy to be watching it, but mostly happy to be watching it with him. his chest rises and falls under your head with each breath and it’s making you more tired than before.

“i’m so warm,” you say through a yawn, all comfy now in your sweats and matt’s crewneck, although the comfort comes mostly from his arms wrapped around your middle. 

“you can throw on a pair of boxers if you want, top drawer,” matt offers, his arms unmoving, keeping you mildly trapped against him.

“let me goooo,” you groan dramatically, making a big show of sliding out from under his arms and grinning to yourself when he laughs.

“come back,” he pouts, reaching for a stuffed animal to take your place while you cross the room to his dresser.

“just give me a sec,” you giggle, rummaging around in the drawer and pulling out a pair of plaid boxers. there’s something stuck to it, all tangled up in the mess of his clothes, “what the– is this my bra? i’ve been looking for this for like a month.” 

matt lifts his head just enough to see what you’re holding up, huffing when he hits the pillow again, “i dunno, sweetheart, you probably left it, you’ve got a lot of stuff here,” he sounds tired, and the words are pressed against his pillow now that he’s rolled onto his stomach. 

you’ve got lots of stuff here.

it digs into you, how casually he says it, an almost physical ache you feel beyond your ribs, right where your heart is. 

quickly you try to shake it off, shucking off your sweatpants and sliding the boxers up your legs so you can hurry back into bed before allowing yourself to think about what he said too much. 

“c’mere,” there’s a little smile on his face when he says it, arm outstretched for you to crawl under. immediately matt tucks you up against his body impossibly close, his nose stuffed into your hair and breathing you in. it feels nice, right, and you let yourself bask in it, like maybe the state of your relationship (or lack thereof) won’t be in limbo forever. he has to feel it too, the pull.

“i think you should just stay tonight,” he says quietly against your temple, leaving a little kiss there.

“are you sure?”

he nods, “it’s late, ‘m not gonna kick you out,” you can see his smile in the dark, his features lit up delicately by the dim light of the movie, “and i kinda wanna cuddle,” he admits sheepishly, trying to hide his blush when you turn to him.

“awe, matty,” you tease, scooching closer to him, hardly an inch away.

“hey,” he says all high pitched, making you laugh again.

“that voice always gets me,” you tell him, snuggling up under his chin.

“that’s why i do it,” he tells you.

it doesn’t take long for you to slip into an easy sleep with matt holding you, the mindless noise coming from the tv luring you deeper into unconsciousness. he’s being extra gentle, finger tips dragging along your waist under your top. you hardly feel him slide out of bed or tuck you in all snug under the covers.

nick’s in the kitchen when matt emerges from his bedroom for some water,  hunting for something in the pantry. matt rubs his eyes.

“hello?” chris leans forward on the couch, his voice startling matt.

“jesus, what– you’re just both out here at fucking two in the morning?” he grumbles, eyes squinted against the harsh lights.

“we ordered food,” chris stands up, walking into the kitchen.

nick nods, closing the cupboard, glass in hand, “we thought you were at y/n’s or something, i didn’t hear you come in,”

matt grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and a takes a sip before answering, “nah she’s here, she’s asleep,” he says, nodding towards his bedroom.

nick groans, “god, are you guys dating yet,” he asks, head rolling back against his shoulders, exsapertated.

matt’s eyes widen at the sudden outburst of noise, looking back at his door to make sure nick didn’t wake you, “dude, be quiet,” he urges.

you’d felt matt’s absence after a few minutes, the warmth of his body leaving the bed when he did. slowly you sit up, pressing the heel of your palm into your eye and swinging your feet to the floor quietly. you stand behind matt’s closed bedroom door, prepared to silently creep out and go to the bathroom when you catch his voice. 

“and no,we’re just casual,” he continues to answer nick’s question, who glances over and chris. “what— don’t look at him like that,” this earns him another sideye, “i mean it, it’s not serious.”

“matthew” nick starts, “isn’t she asleep in your bed right now?” nick points an accusatory finger in his brother’s direction, emphasizing his words.

it’s matt’s turn to look at chris, who holds his hands up in surrender, “don’t look at me, i’m with nick,” he says, looking away from his brother from where he remains on the couch.

“well she’s not my girlfriend, if that’s where this is going,” matt turns back to the fridge, not really looking for anything, just trying to hide from his brother’s judgmental, but justified, stares. 

it hurts to hear, even if you know it’s the truth.

“and why not, idiot,” nick asks, getting fed up. he can clearly tell how his brother feels and is getting frustrated, mad even, with the idea of him toying with your feelings. 

“i just—i just can’t do it.” that hurts more, a sharp pain you feel in your chest. you swallow dryly, and that hurts too. 

you decide you don’t have to go to the bathroom that badly anymore, and slowly sink back into matt’s bed. you know you and matt aren’t together, that he’s not your boyfriend, but a part of you has always clung to the idea that one day he would be, that he’d finally make the move. you thought he liked you enough to at least try.

tugging the duvet up to your chin you roll over onto your side to face the wall. matt comes back into the bedroom and you can hear nick and chris talking quietly for a second before the door closes again. you’re not too sure, but you think one of them mumbles your name amidst the conversation. matt slides back under the covers with you, coming as close as he can to wrap his arms around you.

it makes your head spin, his words rattling around in your mind, saying he “can’t do it,” but here is, body tucked perfectly against yours, holding you so tight you’d think he never wanted to let go.

—

matt seems notice that you’re a bit quieter than usual the next morning, but you try to hide it under the excuse of not feeling well. he offers to drop you off and you take him up on it, knowing that marinating in the misery you feel won’t solve anything but seems to be the easiest thing to do at the moment.

“text me if you need anything, okay?” his tone is concerned and you can feel him looking at you even though you’re trying to avoid eye contact. you know you’d cave, catching a glimpse of the light blue with all that worry clouding it.

“yeah, i will,” you sigh, reaching into the back seat to grab your bag. 

matt catches you, palm placed delicately along your jaw so you’ll look at him, “hey,” he says all soft, “c’mere,” he guides you forward slightly and you know what’s coming, you know it’s gonna hurt but you do it anyway.

he kisses you gently and you fall into it with ease, reaching out to touch his arm. when he strokes his thumb along your cheekbone you pull away, licking your lips.

“i’ve gotta go,” you whisper, afraid the full volume of your voice would shatter something, you’re not too sure what.

“yeah, okay,” he nods, pulling his hand away from your face and trying to smile as you open your door, watching you walk into your building.

he stays there in the parked car for a minute, wondering what’s wrong, pretending he doesn’t know that this whole situation hurts you just as much as it hurts him. he’s staring up at your apartment window, tapping the steering wheel and taking a long, deep breath.

“fuck,” he mutters to himself, pushing his hair back and putting the car in reverse.

—

you and matt don’t talk excessively for the next few days, only a few texts exchanged here and there and one phone call after he knew you’d just written a midterm. 

he called to ask how it went and tell you he was proud of you, and also to invite you out to dinner with his parents on the upcoming weekend. they were flying out to l.a. for a few days and he wanted you to meet them. it felt cruel.

“i dunno matt, i’ve got an assignment due sunday at midnight, i might not be able to make it,” of course you wanted to go, but the tug of self preservation was starting to become more equal to the pull you felt towards him. you were starting to lose sight of what was more important, him or yourself.

for so long it had been him.

“please, sweetheart, i feel like i haven’t seen you in forever,”  matt slumps into his desk chair, spinning back forth.

you cave and somehow your vision clears. it was him again.

“yeah, yeah, okay, i wanna see you too,”

matt smiles on the other end of the phone, “yay,” he says sweetly, making his joy obvious, “i can help you with your assignment if you want, too,” he offers, and you know he’s just trying to get a smile out of you.

you laugh without meaning to, “matt, you know nothing about the course,” 

“i’ll figure it out, anything i can do to make sure i see you,”

you bite your lip, trying to keep a smile at bay, “careful, you’re gonna make me think you like me or something,”

“aw, well i can’t have that now can i?” he teases, and it cuts deeper than he realizes it does.

“no,” you mutter, trying to hold onto the smile on your face even though matt can’t see you, “um, i should probably get going, if i wanna finish my assignment on time,”

“oh, yeah, okay. i could come by a little later with some food?” he poses it as a question, sensing your hesitancy.

“you don’t have to do that,”

“i know, but i want to,” he says it so easily, like there’s no reason in the world he wouldn’t come to your house after eleven pm just to sit on your bedroom floor while you do school work.

“canes?” you finally offer.

“be there in half an hour.” you hear the car keys jingle through the phone, the front door latching shut.

—

the triplet’s parents land on friday afternoon. you haven’t seen matt since wednesday night when he called and brought take out to your place, and you’re starting to feel a little nervous at the thought of seeing his parents.

you’ve spoken to them over facetime once or twice when matt had called them, but this is real, this is serious.

you think you’ve completely driven yourself insane with that, thinking of it as serious. for days there’s been a battle in your head about whether or not this means matt wants to make your relationship offical. it’s become such a problem that you’ve forbidden yourself from thinking about it.

taking a deep breath you refocus on yourself in the mirror, fixing your hair and trying to decide on a lip product for the night when your roomate wanders into your bedroom.

“how are you doing?” she asks, leaning against the door frame. you don’t answer, just look up at her with what must be a miserable expression, because she chuckles sadly at you, “that bad, huh?”

you groan and clench your fists, “i’m just confused!” you exclaim.

“i know, but i think tonight should clear some things up,” she tells you hopefully, and you really want to believe her.

“i hope so,” you sigh, “i just really like him,” you whine, defeated.

your phone dings then, a message from matt of course.

matt sturn

be there in twenty

ive got the kids

you laugh sadly at the text.

“‘s that him?” your roommate asks.

“yeah, him and his brothers are on the way, they’ll be here soon.”

“you’ll do great, don’t sweat it,” she tries to reassure you, giving you an over enthusiastic thumbs up before shutting your door again.

matt, nick and chris have been in the car for about five minutes and already matt’s debating driving into oncoming traffic. him and his brothers have had the same fight at least three times since you stayed over last week, and if he’s honest, he’s getting really sick of it.

“enough of this ‘i can’t do that’ bullshit, matt, she’s coming to dinner with our parents,” nick says pointedly, running out of air at the end of his setence, “you don’t just bring your hook up to that shit, so fucking stop talking to her if it’s that much of an issue,” he continues, leaning froward against matt’s seat, staring holes into the side of his brothers face.

matt is clearly aggravated, gripping the wheel a little too hard, “shut the fuck up, nick— she’s not just a hook up,” 

nick’s eyes get wider at this and he leans over matt’s seat, voice exponentially louder when he says, “you just proved my fucking point!!”

“you don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” matt mumbles in a deft tone, staring harshly out onto the road.

chris leans over from the passenger seat, gesturing in matt’s direction, “and you do? you never shut the fuck up about her, and she’s always at the house but you’re too much of a pussy to do anything,” he yells over matt all in one breath, words coming out too fast. 

matt’s mouth is set in a firm line and he’s shaking his head, “you guys don’t get it!” he finally yells back, signaling and switching lanes before he can finish his thought, “i can’t do that to her,” the car’s stopped at a red light now, allowing him to look nick in the eye from the rearview mirror. both him and chris shut up for a second.

“i can’t do that to her,” matt emphasizes again, making his point with his hands, bracketing the last two words, “the internet would chew her up and spit her out. you think i don’t want to make her my girlfriend? do you think i like doing this to her? every fucking day i think about cutting it off because i don’t wanna hurt her, but i’m too fucking selfish to do it.”

“it’s green,” chris mumbles.

“shut the fuck up,” matt says through his teeth as he turns back to face the road, driving through the light.

“so what are you gonna do?” nick asks, softer now, arm hung over the back of matt’s seat.

matt looks up at him in the rearview again, taking a deep, anxiety ridden breath, “i don’t know.”

the three boys are silent for the remainder of the drive to your apartment. matt puts the car in park and mumbles something about being right back before getting out and heading up to your floor, slamming the car door a little bit too hard.

“jesus christ,” chris breathes, feeling the tension finally break.

there’s a knock at the front door, and you take a deep breath before opening it. matt stands with his hair a little bit messy and his cheeks a little bit red, but he softens when he sees you.

“hey,” you say, “let me just grab my bag,”

“wait, y/n,”

“yeah?” you turn back around to look at him. he’s standing in the middle of your kitchen, looking a little bit deflated.

“can i have a hug?”

your heart nearly shatters. is he feeling it too?

“wha– of course baby, of course,” you cross the kitchen over to him and he already has his arms open. immediately he locks his arms around your waist, resting his head against yours. you gently rub his back and rest your cheek on his shoulder.

“is everything okay?” you wonder after a second, feeling him breathe heavily against you.

matt squeezes you a little tighter and kisses your hair, “yeah,” he sighs, “nick and chris are just annoying,”

“you love them though,” you remind him.

he pulls away but keeps you close, hands on your hips now, “sometimes i think about reevaluating that,” 

you laugh at him, fixing his messy hair, “no you don’t,”

its his turn to smile, “you’re right,” he leans in for a quick kiss which you grant him, letting it dampen your nerves and reservations on the evening.

“i know, now c’mon, we’ve gotta go,” you slide your hand down into his.

“you don’t have to be nervous, by the way,” matt says to you in the elevator, still holding your hand. 

you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding and he squeezes your hand, letting you know he’s there for you, “it just feels serious,” you finally admit what you’ve been thinking for the last few days. you’re a little bit afraid to look over at him, so you keep your gaze towards the closed elevator doors.

matt gives your hand a quick squeeze and glances at the side of your face, you can feel his eyes on you, “it’s not serious, don’t worry,” it’s a little strained when he says it, as if he means something else but you can’t quite decipher it. it’s too much to think about now and yet it’s all you’ve been thinking about for days, how ‘unserious’ it all is to him.

when you do get to dinner, marylou and jimmy are already at the restaurant. marylou is being so sweet to you, asking about classes and how you met the boys, what you like do to in your spare time and things about matt that you tease him over. you feel like a girlfriend, you feel like his girlfriend and you don't think you can take much more of it. she tells you how much he talks about you when he’s home, that even justin has started making fun of him for it.

when you look over at matt he’s blushing but staring directly into his plate, avoiding you.

the smile you plastered onto your face fades and you dig your nails into your plam under the table.

“excuse me, i’m gonna run to the bathroom,” you say to no one in particular, catching nick’s eyes. he seems to notice your pleading gaze, and sends you a text after you’ve left the table

nick stromboli 

you okay?

you lock yourself in the single bathroom and stand staring at your phone screen.

you

this is brutal

your mom is being sooo sweet but matt won’t even look at me

i feel like he's embarrassed

nick stromboli

he's actually the biggest idiot that ever lived

chris is lowk giving him a death stare rn

nick was being serious, chris staring at matt as marylou goes on about how nice you are.

nick elbows matt in the side and he looks over, more than slightly fed up.

“i think you should go check on y/n,” he whispers, making matt perk up a bit in worry.

“why?”

“i don’t think she’s feeling good,”

“oh, i hope she’s okay,” marylou interrupts herself.

“i’ll be right back,” matt stands from the table and walks to the bathroom, knocking on the door gently, “y/n/n? it’s me sweetheart,”

a slight panic drops through you as you push away from where you were leaning against the wall, trying to catch your breath.

“c’mon let me in, nick said you weren’t feeling good,” he knows you were nervous about tonight, and he’s hoping that’s all it is, that he can fix it.

you sigh, head tossed back to your shoulders as you breathe out before letting him in, hoping you look more composed than you feel.

“hey, you okay?” he asks gently, closing the door behind him.

“yeah, uh, i think i’m gonna go,” you mumble, looking away.

“what? d–do you want like a gingerale or something?” his brows are pinched and he’s reaching out for you. you step back without thinking about it. you don’t even notice you’d done it until you see the hurt look on his face. he reaches out again, slower this time.

“y/n…”

something in you clicks, or comes crashing down when his fingers brush your wrist, “i’m not your girlfriend matt, stop worrying about me like i am,”

he's a little bit stunned at that and pulls back, saying your name again. 

“no, don’t do that, i heard what you said to the guys last week, and you keep telling me we’re causal and we can’t be anything but we’re at dinner with your fucking parents. i can’t keep prenteding to be your girlfriend, or–or that it doesn’t hurt, i just can’t do it anymore,” 

there’s tears in your eyes you don’t notice until matt whispers, “don’t cry,”

“i’m going crazy,” you tell him, voice so soft, so fragile that his heart breaks a little bit.

“no you’re not, c’mon– we can work this out,” the words are so comforting, and normally he’s the one you’d run to for comfort, but he’s hurting you.

“are we gonna make it official, matt? or are we just gonna keep sleepingover at eachother’s houses four days a week and tell all our friend we aren’t dating?” you ask, pressing your fingertips underneath your eyes, “are we gonna do this for real or are you gonna keep telling your parents about me when you’re in boston, and–and keep coming to my house after midnight with take out just because i don’t wanna be alone working on assignments,” he doesn’t say anything, just stares at you with a solemn look, so you keep going.

“i can’t take the sorry fucking look chris keeps giving me when i’m walking out of your room, it hurts, matt,”

he steps forward finally, trying to make up for more than the physical space that separates you, “no, c’mon, just–just come back to the table. i’ll stay at yours tonight and we’ll talk about this,”

you hold back a scoff at the irony of him mentioning he’ll stay over, “i need an answer now.” you tell him. he’s gone back to standing a few feet away from you, not touching you anymore.

“an answer for what?”

“can you commit to this now? to me?” you feel like you’re pleading with him and you hate how desperate it is.

“we aren’t having this conversation in the bathroom right now, can we please just talk about it later?” matt asks.

you shake your head, “matt, we’ve been doing this for four months, i don’t wanna wait any longer, i’m not a toy.”

he stares at you, licking his lips. you stare back, suffocating in his silence. it’s all the answer you need.

“i’m gonna go,” you mutter, “tell your parents it was really nice to meet them, and that i’m sorry for leaving,” you add, looking away when you walk passed him to open the door.

you leave the restaurant and call an uber, hardly sparing a glance in the direction of his family’s table on your way out.

“is y/n okay?” jimmy asks when matt comes back alone. 

matt shoves a hand into his hair to push it back, not meeting anybody’s eyes, “she went home, she wasn’t feeling good”

“and you didn’t offer to take her?” marylou scolds, sure she raised her son better than that.

“she didn’t want me to,” matt admits, defeated.

nick and chris share a look, knowing that isn’t the whole truth, or really the truth at all. 

—

a few days later, after their parents had gone back to boston, matt’s shuffling into nick’s bedroom, where him and chris are laying on the bed on their phones. 

matt looks a mess, hair wild and eyes sunken in. he’s been in his bedroom all day, blinds drawn and door latched shut

nick thinks he’s wearing a hoodie of yours, the faded smell of your perfume lingering when his brother walks in. 

“…you okay?” nick asks, glancing up from his phone. 

matt shakes his head and sits on the edge of the bed, rubbing his eyes with his fists, “i feel like fucking shit,” he admits, still looking down, “i hate that i hurt her,” he tells the two, as if his brothers weren’t already acutely aware, “i was trying so hard to keep from hurting her and i fucking did it anyway,” they wait for matt to finish, knowing he has a little more to say, “i was so fucking scared of making things offical that i lost her all together, she’s never gonna talk to me again,”

nick sighs and looks over at chris, the two of them sharing a sympathetic look before he moves forward and puts his arm around matt, who slumps against his shoulder, “that's not true,” nick says, “she probably should never talk to you again, but she’s a good person, and she’s our friend,”

“yeah, and she cares about you a lot, matt.” chris adds, sitting on the matt’s other side.

matt groans and covers his face, “i know, and that’s what sucks,” he wipes his palms over his face, “god, why was i so fucking stupid?”

“because you really like her,” chris offers, “and you’re gonna try and make it up to her…right?”

matt sits back up, staring at the wall, “i dunno, i want to, i don’t…” he takes a deep breath, willing the pit in his stomach to go away, “i’m more afraid of losing her all together than i was of any of that other shit, but i don’t know how to fix…this,” he says, dejected.

nick perks up, because he’s never seen matt half as lively as he is when he’s with you, or talking about you. he’s pretty sure matt was on his way to falling in love with you (if he hasn’t already) and refuses to let him lose hope,“i have an idea,” he says.

matt looks at his brother, desperate. the circles under his eyes a shade too dark, his cheeks sunken in, his lips chapped. nick continues.

“we’ll need waffles.”

—

it’s been over a week and a half since you walked out of the restaurant, and since you’d spoken to matt. nick’s been messaging you, asking if you’re okay and telling you he’s there for you. there’s been a bit of him telling you how stupid matt is, which you’d agreed with solemnly.

nick’s messaging you now. you’re posted up at your kitchen table trying to review for one of your exams, but more so warding off another wave of tears, pressing your fingertips into your eyes.

you pick up your phone to answer the message nick had sent, something about a sleepover at your place this weekend and a promise of a hannah montana binge, but there’s a knock at your door. you’re confused at first, wondering who’s at your door this late.

“did you order food?” you ask your roommate as you get up, looking in through the crack of her barely opened door. her headphones are on and she's hunched over a textbook with a highlighter, oblivious to any visitors.

your heartbeat speeds up a little bit as you begin to think about who’s on the other side. with a huff you look through the peephole, met with a slightly distorted image of matt anxiously shifting his weight from foot to foot.

he keeps looking down the hallway and biting the inside of his cheek. he’s holding something. a paper bag in one hand and a bouquet of delicately wrapped flowers in the other.

you turn the lock, hand shaking a little bit as the door swings open. he whips his head from where he was looking down the hall to the now open door, your eyes locking immediately.

“matt,” you whisper, not even meaning to say it.

he stares at you for a second, seemingly forgetting any words he would have said for a second before holding up the bag.

“i brought waffles.”

—

“please let me in,” he says breathlessly, as if he was holding his breath waiting for you to open the door. “i know i probably don’t deserve a chance, and you probably don’t wanna hear me out, but…but please,” he licks his lips, grip tightening on the stems of the flowers, (you didn’t think he was listening when you told him your favourites all those months ago) “i miss you,” it’s quiet, the way he says it. he’s pleading with you.

there’s an ache in your chest, you’re trying not to mistake his tenderness for pity. and yet you still find yourself letting him in.

“okay,” it takes so little convincing. you missed him too.

there’s little talking at first, mostly just you and matt grabbing plates down and dishing yourselves out. he went to your favourite diner, because of course he did. the waffles are still warm and are making your kitchen smells like butter and sausage. you move your books and laptop out of the way to make room for the two of you to sit, elbows touching when you start to eat.

you’re half way through your first waffle when matt speaks up. you could feel him staring, his body half turned towards you in his chair. some of your hair falls into your face and his finger twitches before you tuck it away. all he wants to do it touch you. hold you, kiss you, anything. he’s such a jerk. 

“i’m sorry,” 

you freeze for a second, still facing away from him. after you finish chewing you set your fork down and turn slowly, finally looking him in the eyes. the blue has grown a shade too dark, melancholic. 

“for what?” you ask stupidly, just needing to know how he’s felt about it all.

“fuck, everything?” he says, forcefully pushing his hair away from his eyes. 

you shake your head and turn back to your plate.

“y/n,” he sighs, “c’mon look at me,”

you do, but it hurts.

“i’m sorry for what happened at the restaurant, and i’m sorry things got so out of hand and–and that…this went on for so long,” he gestures between the two of you, fixing his wild hair again.

“this?” you ask, voice breaking, thinking the worst, that he regrets it all, that it’s over. it’s really over.

“this stupid fucking dance we’ve been doing for four months, it’s crazy. it was always crazy.”

you huff, probably a little bit too dramatically as you shift to face him fully, “matt, what are you saying?”

“i’m saying that i like you! and it was so stupid to fucking…dilute that becuase i was scared or some shit,” the latter end of his sentence loses volume, he’s getting shy again.

“but–but you just wanted to be casual–” you start, looking down at your crossed legs.

“no, i never wanted to be fucking casual, i was just…. fuck i was just scared.” he says around a mouthful of waffle. the air smells like syrup. 

“i wanna be with you all the time, i like you so much– i just– at first i didn’t want things to be weird between us, which is why i thought a relationship was the wrong idea, but then we started…doing relationship things and it only got better.” he starts, messing with his hair and pushing his food around his plate, “after i stopped being so afraid of that i just, i got scared of another thing,” he finally looks up at you, eyes a little sad, a little heavy.

you can tell that he knows how he’s made you feel, and despite that you hate that he’s sad. you never want him to be sad.

matt continues, “i’d hate for you to get hurt because of my fans, and i knew it was gonna be hard to keep things private, to keep things…ours. i thought that was something i didn't wanna do or i wasn't ready for but…” he sighs, cutting himself off and taking in another big breath. you want to reach out and rub his back, knowing he’s anxious and just trying to calm himself down. 

“you being mad at me i can deal with,” he starts again, “you being mad, or–or upset because of me, is harder to handle, but fuck, not having you at all? that's worse than anything else we’d have to face,” he looks up, dead into your eyes to make sure you understand the weight of what he’s about to say, “together.”

“matt…” you whisper. you’ve forgotten about the food. it’s getting cold but it doesn’t matter.

he shakes his head before meeting your eyes again, “i’d rather go through all that bullshit with you than go through nothing without you,” he sounds so sincere that you think your heart skips a beat.

“what are you—”

“i wanna do this. for real.” he nods once, watching you closely.

“do you mean that?” he hates how doubtful you sound and he hates that he’s the one to have put all that doubt there. he thinks you might cry.

“y–yeah of course i mean it. i should have said it a long time ago, and if it makes you feel any better nick’s been giving me shit for like, two months, and i think chris wanted to beat me up last week.” he offers you half a smile, hoping you’ll give one back.

instead you breathe out laugh. he basks in it.

“i want you to be my girlfriend,” you’re looking down again and your hair falls from it’s place behind your ear. he doesn’t stop himself this time, nimble, ring adorned finger pushing it back, “i wanna be your boyfriend,”

you look up at him, studying his face for a second before you speak. he looks tired and a little worn, like he’s been thinking too much and too hard and worrying even more.

“yeah?” you finally say.

matt smiles at you. he has such a pretty smile.

“yeah.” he nods, smiling now.

“so we’re not just casual?”

matt scoffs out a laugh and stands. you stand too and he wraps his arms around you, tucking his chin atop your head when your arms go over his shoulders. he kisses your hair and breathes you in, the lingering scent of your shampoo and your perfume and you. it’s all over his clothes and his sheets, but nothing beats having you in his arms again. 

“we were never just causal,” he assures you, as if you didn’t know.

tags ! @st4rswrld @urfavvev3lyn @mattsturnioloarchive @averysbestyears @its-jennarose @strnilolo @cherrypostsposts

also tagging some of my faves (writers & other creators!!) 🥹 @pettydollie @wcters @grimholic @floristmatt (if you don’t wanna be tagged lmk!!)

[dracoflaco]

Awhh my baby 🥺🤍🤍

4 Times That She Made Him Smile | Matt Sturniolo

Matt Sturniolo x reader

Summary: Where Y/N is the only person who can make Matt smile genuinely; OR 4 times that Y/N made Matt smile.

Warning: None.

Requested?: Yes, by anons.

Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

1. Had Matt shaved his beard?

The morning started like any other in the triplets' house. The sun had barely risen over the horizon when the three found themselves in the typical kitchen, each of them still fighting sleep but ready to face another day of recording.

Nick was busy preparing breakfast, while Matt and Chris lounged lazily around the table, Chris with his head lying on the wooden surface.

"Smells good, Nick. What are you making?" Matt murmured, rubbing the drowsiness away from his eyes.

"Waffles and bacon." Nick responded in a low, slow tone, stirring the strips inside the ceramic frying pan.

"Bacon with waffles?" Chris grimaced, yawning loudly as he lifted his head, laying his body haphazardly on the chair.

Meanwhile, Y/N was still in her own world, enjoying a peaceful sleep in her shared room with Matt. However, her sleep was interrupted by the sound of a plate hitting the sink's marble counter, followed by a loud curse.

With a yawn, the girl slowly sat down on the bed, running a hand through her messy hair and running her sleepy eyes around the room, already having the idea that Matt was in the kitchen, where the sound had echoed from.

Seconds later, she got out of bed and headed to the bathroom, ready to start her morning routine. But something immediately caught her attention as soon as she entered the smaller room. On top of the sink was Matt's beard trimmer, an object she recognized all too well.

Her eyes widened in surprise, and she looked around, trying to process what she was seeing. Had Matt shaved his beard?

With her heart beating fast, Y/N ran back to the bedroom, grabbing the pajama shorts thrown on her boyfriend's gaming chair, quickly putting them on and finally leaving the room, completely ignoring her own messy appearance.

Back in the kitchen, the brothers were busy devouring the breakfast Nick had prepared. They barely noticed when Y/N walked out of the small hall that connected the room to her bedroom, her eyes fixed on Matt.

"Matt..." Her voice came out in an incredulous whisper as she approached, stopping in front of him and staring at his face intensely.

Matt looked up from his plate, smiling big when he saw her awake.

"Good morning, babe. How did you-" He interrupted his own sentence when he saw her condition, frowning in confusion and worry. "Hey, did something happen?"

Y/N swallowed hard, trying to maintain her composure, but the sight of Matt without a beard was too much for her. With a fake sob, she knelt before him, her eyes shining with false emotion.

"Matt, baby, how could you do this?" She whimpered, dramatizing every word. "You shaved your beard... The beard that I loved so much!"

The other two brothers watched the scene with wide eyes, not knowing whether to laugh or be worried about Y/N's reaction, unlike Matt, who took a few seconds to process what she had said, before a loud laugh escaped from his lips, his hands letting go of the food he was holding.

"We're done!"

Matt continued laughing, shaking his head in bewilderment.

"Y/N, did you hit your head?"

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2. Girls' night (with a masculine touch)

The night was warm and cozy in the triplets' house as Matt, Nick, Chris, and Y/N gathered in the living room. After a long day of recording and, on Y/N's part, studying, they decided it was time to relax and have fun together.

"What are we doing tonight?" Chris asked, throwing his phone onto his lap and looking around at the others, lowering his body onto the upholstery.

"Can we do our nails?" The suggestion escaped Nick's lips quickly, his eyes shining with excitement. "And maybe do some skincare."

"Like a girl's night?" Y/N smiled, straightening her posture quickly, feeling just as excited.

"Why not?" Matt shrugged, staring at his nails with a contemplative look. "But I've never done my own nails before, I always do them with Analysse."

"It's just painting your nails, like watercolor. It's not difficult, honey." Y/N waved her hand dismissively, getting up from her seat and running to her shared room with Matt, looking for her box of nail polish and nail's tools.

With their gear gathered, they arranged themselves comfortably and strategically on the couch, ready to begin their impromptu night of beauty.

Y/N led the way, skillfully beginning to paint her own nails as she explained the process.

"First, you need to apply a base coat to protect your nails." She explained, opening the base coat and carefully applying it, being quickly followed by Nick.

The brothers watched with interest, watching each movement with concentration.

"That seems easy enough." Chris commented, taking the little bottle from Y/N's hand and starting to apply it to his own nails.

Meanwhile, Matt was carefully examining the available nail polishes colors, trying to decide which one to choose. Y/N's eyes found his figure, a smile growing on her face, feeling great love for his appreciation and care for the moment.

"How about a black one with white details?" Matt suggested, holding up two bottles in the mentioned colors, showing them to Y/N with a proud smile on his face.

"It's going to look amazing, my love."

Chris quickly picked out his own nail polish color with Nick's help, returning to his seat while swinging his legs eagerly.

They dipped their brushes into the nail polish bottles with determination but soon discovered that painting their own nails wasn't as simple as it seemed.

"This is harder than I thought." Matt grumbled as he tried to paint his nails without smudging, his fingers shaking slightly as his tongue lolled slightly out of his lips in concentration.

Chris nodded, his lips pressed tightly together as he tried not to move his hand too much.

"I think I'm doing this wrong..."

"You two are doing pretty well for beginners." Y/N laughed softly, watching the brothers fondly.

After some errors, everyone finally finished painting their nails, each proudly displaying their own piece of art, even if it was a little smudged.

"Look at us, a bunch of nail professionals!" Nick joked, blowing on his freshly painted nails with a smile.

"Yeah, I guess we could consider a new career." Matt contributed, admiring his nails with a satisfied expression before raising his hands, his nails facing Y/N as he wiggled his fingers excitedly.

"It's perfect, babe, congratulations!" Y/N praised, leaning towards him slightly and sealing the back of his right hand with her lips lightly, exhaling the fresh smell of nail polish and acetone.

"Maybe we should open our own men's salon." Chris smiled, shaking his hands to dry the nail polish faster.

Matt laughed out loud, imagining the scene of them painting other men's nails with the same determination and enthusiasm they had moments ago. It would be comical.

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3. Video as a couple

Matt was nervous as he prepared to record his next video for his personal YouTube channel. It was still one of the first videos he posted there, and despite his enormous desire to make more content for his own channel, he felt an anxiety growing within him every time he thought about creating something new on his own.

Therefore, he decided to invite his girlfriend, Y/N, to participate with him in that specific one, taking advantage of the opportunity to introduce her as his girlfriend.

It's not that fans didn't know Y/N was his. They knew, and they knew it very well, but Matt never got around to introducing her as such officially.

"Are you ready for this?" He asked, looking at Y/N with a nervous smile.

"I should be the one asking you that." Y/N smiled small before nodding, holding his free hand affectionately. "But yes, I am. There's nothing I want more than to be said to be your girlfriend, baby."

With a nervous sigh, Matt began to set up the camera on the dashboard of the car, while Y/N settled into the passenger seat next to him, trying to calm him with words of encouragement.

"You'll do amazingly well, hon. I'm sure of it." Y/N said, leaning over the car console and giving him a soft kiss on the cheek.

Finally, everything was ready, and Matt began recording, his voice a little shaky at first but soon becoming more confident as he got used to the camera without his brothers around him.

"Hey! Welcome to my personal YouTube channel." He began, smiling slightly at the camera. "Today I have a very special guest for you to meet."

He turned his face to Y/N with a twinkle in his eye, who waved at the lenses, opening a shy smile.

"This is Y/N, my girlfriend." Matt continued, looking at her with big heart eyes. "Most of you already know her as our best friend, and maybe you already know about our relationship, but now we're finally going public to make it official... Well, she agreed to participate in today's video, so I hope you enjoy getting to know her a little better."

Y/N smiled as she watched her boyfriend introduce her as his, her cheeks taking on a reddish hue, feeling a little nervous and shy, but happy to be there next to him.

To make things more fun, Matt decided to answer some questions asked by fans about the two of them together or individually. He selected some of the funniest and most interesting questions and read them out loud for the two of them to discuss.

"Okay, first question." Matt began, looking at his phone in hand. "How we met?"

"Well, we actually met at a friend's birthday party from our school in elementary school. Matt was trying to impress everyone with his basketball skills, but he ended up hitting the ball over one of the girls' heads." Y/N laughed, remembering the story fondly.

Matt blushed at the memory, shaking his head and looking down, trying to hide the involuntary smile that took over his face.

"Next!" Matt cleared his throat, his voice coming out high-pitched from the shyness of the previous event. "What's the secret to a long-lasting relationship?"

"Oh, great question!" Y/N clapped her hands in excitement, lifting her legs and pressing the soles of her feet onto the seat, keeping her knees bent and tights against her chest. "For me, the key is communication and mutual support. It's important to always be honest with each other and literally be there through the good times and the bad."

"For sure, I also think it's essential to have understanding and empathy for each other. Being willing to listen and understand your partner's needs makes all the difference." Matt contributed.

He looked at his girlfriend, waiting for approval and receiving a big smile in return, which was accompanied by a nod.

"What's the most memorable memory you've had together?" Matt read the next question quickly, before looking up, his eyes alight with nostalgia. "There are so many wonderful memories to choose." He reflected, thoughtfully. "But one of my favorites was when we made our first unplanned trip together almost two years ago and ended up getting lost in a small town in Italy."

"Oh my God, so true!" Y/N threw her head back, laughing loudly at the memory. "That was an unforgettable experience. I remember we went to ask for directions at a small restaurant right on the corner from one of the alleys, and there were several pastas hanging, drying. I just asked the main chief what that was, and boom, we passed all day in that restaurant, tasting different types of fresh pasta and discovering more of their culture together."

As the video continued, Matt and Y/N shared more stories, laughs, and loving moments. They answered questions about their funny habits, their favorite couple traditions, and even their future plans together.

In the end, when Matt ended the video with a warm thank you to the fans who would watch it when posted, he turned to Y/N with a beaming smile.

"Thank you for doing this with me, petal." The brunette whispered, leaning over the car console and pulling her into a tight hug, smiling widely. "It meant the world for me."

"I'll always be here to support you, Matt. And I can't wait to make more videos together in the future." Y/N smiled, feeling happy to have shared that moment with Matt.

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4. Kittens day

Y/N woke up excitedly that morning, knowing it was the day she would volunteer at the cat kennel like she always did every Tuesday. It was an activity she loved doing, and she always invited Matt to join her, but his work with YouTube always ended up interfering.

However, this time, Matt had surprised Y/N by making room in his schedule to join her. She couldn't wait to share this experience with him.

When they arrived at the kennel, they were greeted by the soft sound of meows and purrs. Y/N smiled when she saw the felines playing and snuggling on their colorful scratching posts of all possible sizes.

"It's so good to be here." She said excitedly to Matt, taking his hand as they walked through the decorated halls. "Cats are so adorable and deserve so much love and affection."

Matt smiled as he listened to her chatter about the felines, watching them and her with fascination.

The couple spent the day taking care of the cats, feeding them, cleaning their litter boxes, and, of course, playing with them. Y/N taught Matt the proper way to hold and pet kittens, and he was soon having as much fun as she was.

"I never want to leave again." Matt suddenly commented as, sitting side by side on the fluffy rug, they watched a group of kittens playing with a fur ball. "I understand why you love coming here every week."

"It's a special place, with special cats... You know, I'm really glad you're here with me today." Y/N smiled, lifting her head slightly to look at him better, feeling her heart warm when she realized that Matt was just as involved in the activity as she was.

"I'm glad too."

At the end of the day, as they were about to leave, Matt suddenly stopped, looking at a cat in one of the cages. It was an orange cat with bright blue eyes that stared back at him curiously.

"Wow, he is perfect." Matt whispered, slowly approaching the cage. "He seems so friendly."

"You like him, don't you?" Y/N smiled, following him towards the feline, noticing the immediate connection between Matt and the cat.

"Yeah, I really do." Matt nodded, his eyes shining with determination. "What do you think about having a cat?"

Y/N felt a wave of emotion and happiness wash over her when she heard him, taking a few seconds to process if she was creating things in her head, realizing she wasn't when she noticed Matt looking at her with expecting eyes.

"Oh my God, really?" Her voice came out louder than expected, slightly scaring the kitten. "Oops, I'm sorry, little kitten."

With beaming smiles and clasped hands, they went to the kennel staff to begin the adoption process. While Y/N filled out the forms, Matt kept his eyes fixed on the cat lovingly, imagining their days with the new addition.

"What will be his name, my love?" His girlfriend's voice sounded behind him, breaking him out of his reverie. Matt shook his head slightly, focusing his attention on Y/N again, an easy smile stretching across his face.

"Snuggles. His name will be Snuggles."

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