mwuaferrari

[mwuaferrari]

hiii can u please do a ferran x reader where the reader is struggling financially and the reader is too shy to tell him incase anyone thinks she's using him for his money, thank uuuu

LOVE FOREVER, FERRAN TORRE.

→ Pairing: Ferran Torre X fem!reader

→ Warning: Mention of Reader. Confort.

→ Author's note: He is so underrated, handsome and cute.

And sorry if there are mistakes, English is not my language.I hope this is what you asked for!

You always tried to hide it. Shyness was your shield, but also your prison—especially when it came to money. Going through financial difficulties was something you didn’t know how to share, much less with Ferran Torres, who seemed to have everything so under control.

You met naturally, through laughter and light conversation, and he was always kind and attentive. But little by little, that doubt began to grow in your chest: does he distrust you? Does he think you are only around him for the money? And worse, has he ever thought about distancing himself because of it?

You avoided expensive dates, always suggesting simple plans, but when he insisted on paying, you accepted, knowing that you couldn't afford everything on your own. But the guilt ate away at you.

One Saturday afternoon, after training, Ferran sent a message:

“Do you want to come over to my house? I made a dish you like.”

You hesitated. It was so tempting, and at the same time, your fear of exposing yourself grew.

But he ended up giving in.

When he arrived, he was smiling, simple, as always. They sat on the sofa, the smell of food still in the air.

He stared at you, worried.

“You act different... are you okay? You can talk to me, you know?” He said, his voice soft.

His heart raced. Did he notice? It hurt.

You took a deep breath.

“Not really. I’ve been having some... financial problems.”

He frowned, but didn't pull away the hand holding his.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I didn’t want you to think I was… using you. Or that I needed help just for the money. I’m afraid of that.”

Ferran squeezed her hand tighter, his eyes full of affection.

“I'm with you because I like you, not because of what you have or don't have. I don't want you to carry this alone.”

You felt the knot in your chest loosen.

“It’s hard for me to talk about it. I’ve always been embarrassed.”

He smiled.

“So let’s face it together. Whatever you need, I want to help. No judgment.”

You smiled shyly, feeling for the first time that you weren’t alone. The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that calms, that allows words to settle, that allows the heart to reorganize itself. Ferran never let go of your hand, and you felt the warmth of his fingers like an anchor. He always had that gift: making even chaos seem less noisy when he was around.

“Thank you for not making this a burden,” you murmured, your voice weak.

He gave a slight sideways smile and shook his head.

No, Baby, it's a favor. Not even an exchange. It's care.”

The word “baby” hit you with unexpected force. You hadn't said that yet, not like that. But it sounded natural coming out of his mouth, as if it had been there for a while, just waiting for the right moment to reveal itself.

You swallowed hard, trying not to let the tears escape. But Ferran noticed, he always noticed. He lifted his hand and touched your face gently, his thumb caressing the skin near your eyes.

“Do you really think I would care if you had money or not? Do you think that changes the way I feel?”

You shook your head in denial, but the truth was that, for a long time, you had thought so. The difference in worlds between you seemed insurmountable at times. You came from a reality where saving was the rule, and he came from a universe where a spontaneous dinner in another country was not absurd.

But there, with that look so sincere, so unfiltered, you felt small for having doubted him.

“It’s just… sometimes I don’t feel like I’m enough,” you confessed. “Like I’m always owing you something. Like it’s only a matter of time before you realize you deserve someone better.”

Ferran stepped closer, his knees now touching yours, and the expression on his face was firm.

“Hey. You are everything. I never thought of looking for someone 'better'. You understand what's important. You have sensitivity, you have strength, you have character. You care about people, even when you're scared. That's worth more to me than any bank account.”

You smiled, small, feeling your chest tighten again — but this time, with relief. For being seen, heard. For not having to pretend anymore.

“And look,” he continued, amused, “you have the worst taste in pizza. And yet, I’m still here. That must count for something.”

You let out a real laugh, finally.

“You who don’t know how to appreciate a good pizza with pineapple.”

“That’s not even pizza, that’s heresy.”

The two of them laughed, and the dark heaviness that had started the night dissipated a little. Like a cloudy sky being swept away by a calm wind. Ferran stood up and extended his hand to you.

“Come. I want to show you something.”

You took his hand, curious. You followed him through the house to the small room where he kept his mementos—trophies, childhood photos, old T-shirts. He opened one of the drawers and took out a small wooden box.

“It’s not a ring, before you think,” he teased, noticing her apprehensive look.

Inside was a small silver chain with a discreet pendant: a circle with two intertwined hands. You looked at it, surprised.

“It’s kind of silly, but...” He scratched the back of his neck, a little shy for the first time. “When I was a kid, my grandmother gave me this. She said it was for when I found someone I wanted to share everything with. Fear, joy, the future.”

You swallowed hard, feeling your heart beat wildly.

“I want you to be with me. Not because I want to 'buy' you or compensate you for anything. But because you are that person, for me.”

His eyes were steady on yours. And everything you had felt before—shame, insecurity, the fear of seeming self-interested—was being erased by the soft light of truth between you.

You held the pendant, feeling the cool metal between your fingers. It was small, simple... but it meant the world.

“May I?” he asked, gesturing with the chain.

You nodded, and he came to you, with all the delicacy in the world, placing the necklace around your neck. His touch on the back of your neck was as soft as the breeze that came in through the open window.

When he finished, he placed his hands on your shoulders and looked at you for what seemed like an eternity.

“You don’t have to face this alone anymore. Ever.”

His words echoed in her mind like a calm, steady whisper, sealing something much greater than fleeting promises. Ferran didn’t just say he was there—he proved it. With every gesture, with every look, he built a safe space around him. A home outside the walls.

Your heart felt so full that you could barely respond. The necklace rested on your skin as a physical reminder of that moment, of that silent surrender that came from deep within him—and now, from deep within you, too.

“Thank you,” you murmured, your voice cracking. “For seeing me when I can’t see myself.”

He smiled, his gaze dropping briefly to her lips before returning to her eyes.

“I see you all the time, baby.”

And then the silence returned. Not the silence of fear or insecurity—but the silence that precedes something inevitable. Ferran approached you slowly, as if he were asking you with his body, without words. The distance between you was reduced to a few centimeters, and you didn’t back away.

Your gaze fell to his mouth. Half-open, soft, like everything about him. You had imagined this moment before, but never like this, never with so much meaning behind it. It wasn't just a kiss. It was the beginning of an entire surrender.

And he kissed you.

At first, it was gentle—a tender, careful touch of lips, as if he were thanking you for trusting him. But soon it became firmer, more urgent, as if now that he had started, he didn’t know how to stop. His hands moved up to your face, his fingers stroking your jaw while his thumb rested beneath your chin, guiding the kiss with precision and tenderness.

You responded with the same intensity, gripping the fabric of his shirt between your fingers, pulling him closer. It was as if all the weight you had been carrying before was dissolving there, between Ferran's lips. He made you feel whole, desired, enough.

His taste was warm, familiar, and his ragged breaths mingled with yours. The kiss was slow, but full of feeling. As if he was trying to convey to you everything he couldn't put into words. And you understood—every gesture, every pause, every return to the touch of his lips.

He pulled his mouth away for a second, only to rest his forehead against yours, eyes closed.

“I like you just the way you are. With your doubts, your quiet courage... with everything you are,” he whispered.

You smiled, your eyes filled with tears, and pulled him back in for another kiss. This time, softer, longer. No rush. No fear.

Taglist: @paucubarsisimp @nngkay @meganesanchez @htpssgavi @merinottt @luvvpedri @moonvr @joaosnovia @httpsdana @ilovebarcaaaa @p4uul0vr @pedricando @barcapix @owala6789

[mwuaferrari]

hiii can u please do a ferran x reader where the reader is struggling financially and the reader is too shy to tell him incase anyone thinks she's using him for his money, thank uuuu

LOVE FOREVER, FERRAN TORRE.

→ Pairing: Ferran Torre X fem!reader

→ Warning: Mention of Reader. Confort.

→ Author's note: He is so underrated, handsome and cute.

And sorry if there are mistakes, English is not my language.I hope this is what you asked for!

You always tried to hide it. Shyness was your shield, but also your prison—especially when it came to money. Going through financial difficulties was something you didn’t know how to share, much less with Ferran Torres, who seemed to have everything so under control.

You met naturally, through laughter and light conversation, and he was always kind and attentive. But little by little, that doubt began to grow in your chest: does he distrust you? Does he think you are only around him for the money? And worse, has he ever thought about distancing himself because of it?

You avoided expensive dates, always suggesting simple plans, but when he insisted on paying, you accepted, knowing that you couldn't afford everything on your own. But the guilt ate away at you.

One Saturday afternoon, after training, Ferran sent a message:

“Do you want to come over to my house? I made a dish you like.”

You hesitated. It was so tempting, and at the same time, your fear of exposing yourself grew.

But he ended up giving in.

When he arrived, he was smiling, simple, as always. They sat on the sofa, the smell of food still in the air.

He stared at you, worried.

“You act different... are you okay? You can talk to me, you know?” He said, his voice soft.

His heart raced. Did he notice? It hurt.

You took a deep breath.

“Not really. I’ve been having some... financial problems.”

He frowned, but didn't pull away the hand holding his.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“I didn’t want you to think I was… using you. Or that I needed help just for the money. I’m afraid of that.”

Ferran squeezed her hand tighter, his eyes full of affection.

“I'm with you because I like you, not because of what you have or don't have. I don't want you to carry this alone.”

You felt the knot in your chest loosen.

“It’s hard for me to talk about it. I’ve always been embarrassed.”

He smiled.

“So let’s face it together. Whatever you need, I want to help. No judgment.”

You smiled shyly, feeling for the first time that you weren’t alone. The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that calms, that allows words to settle, that allows the heart to reorganize itself. Ferran never let go of your hand, and you felt the warmth of his fingers like an anchor. He always had that gift: making even chaos seem less noisy when he was around.

“Thank you for not making this a burden,” you murmured, your voice weak.

He gave a slight sideways smile and shook his head.

No, Baby, it's a favor. Not even an exchange. It's care.”

The word “baby” hit you with unexpected force. You hadn't said that yet, not like that. But it sounded natural coming out of his mouth, as if it had been there for a while, just waiting for the right moment to reveal itself.

You swallowed hard, trying not to let the tears escape. But Ferran noticed, he always noticed. He lifted his hand and touched your face gently, his thumb caressing the skin near your eyes.

“Do you really think I would care if you had money or not? Do you think that changes the way I feel?”

You shook your head in denial, but the truth was that, for a long time, you had thought so. The difference in worlds between you seemed insurmountable at times. You came from a reality where saving was the rule, and he came from a universe where a spontaneous dinner in another country was not absurd.

But there, with that look so sincere, so unfiltered, you felt small for having doubted him.

“It’s just… sometimes I don’t feel like I’m enough,” you confessed. “Like I’m always owing you something. Like it’s only a matter of time before you realize you deserve someone better.”

Ferran stepped closer, his knees now touching yours, and the expression on his face was firm.

“Hey. You are everything. I never thought of looking for someone 'better'. You understand what's important. You have sensitivity, you have strength, you have character. You care about people, even when you're scared. That's worth more to me than any bank account.”

You smiled, small, feeling your chest tighten again — but this time, with relief. For being seen, heard. For not having to pretend anymore.

“And look,” he continued, amused, “you have the worst taste in pizza. And yet, I’m still here. That must count for something.”

You let out a real laugh, finally.

“You who don’t know how to appreciate a good pizza with pineapple.”

“That’s not even pizza, that’s heresy.”

The two of them laughed, and the dark heaviness that had started the night dissipated a little. Like a cloudy sky being swept away by a calm wind. Ferran stood up and extended his hand to you.

“Come. I want to show you something.”

You took his hand, curious. You followed him through the house to the small room where he kept his mementos—trophies, childhood photos, old T-shirts. He opened one of the drawers and took out a small wooden box.

“It’s not a ring, before you think,” he teased, noticing her apprehensive look.

Inside was a small silver chain with a discreet pendant: a circle with two intertwined hands. You looked at it, surprised.

“It’s kind of silly, but...” He scratched the back of his neck, a little shy for the first time. “When I was a kid, my grandmother gave me this. She said it was for when I found someone I wanted to share everything with. Fear, joy, the future.”

You swallowed hard, feeling your heart beat wildly.

“I want you to be with me. Not because I want to 'buy' you or compensate you for anything. But because you are that person, for me.”

His eyes were steady on yours. And everything you had felt before—shame, insecurity, the fear of seeming self-interested—was being erased by the soft light of truth between you.

You held the pendant, feeling the cool metal between your fingers. It was small, simple... but it meant the world.

“May I?” he asked, gesturing with the chain.

You nodded, and he came to you, with all the delicacy in the world, placing the necklace around your neck. His touch on the back of your neck was as soft as the breeze that came in through the open window.

When he finished, he placed his hands on your shoulders and looked at you for what seemed like an eternity.

“You don’t have to face this alone anymore. Ever.”

His words echoed in her mind like a calm, steady whisper, sealing something much greater than fleeting promises. Ferran didn’t just say he was there—he proved it. With every gesture, with every look, he built a safe space around him. A home outside the walls.

Your heart felt so full that you could barely respond. The necklace rested on your skin as a physical reminder of that moment, of that silent surrender that came from deep within him—and now, from deep within you, too.

“Thank you,” you murmured, your voice cracking. “For seeing me when I can’t see myself.”

He smiled, his gaze dropping briefly to her lips before returning to her eyes.

“I see you all the time, baby.”

And then the silence returned. Not the silence of fear or insecurity—but the silence that precedes something inevitable. Ferran approached you slowly, as if he were asking you with his body, without words. The distance between you was reduced to a few centimeters, and you didn’t back away.

Your gaze fell to his mouth. Half-open, soft, like everything about him. You had imagined this moment before, but never like this, never with so much meaning behind it. It wasn't just a kiss. It was the beginning of an entire surrender.

And he kissed you.

At first, it was gentle—a tender, careful touch of lips, as if he were thanking you for trusting him. But soon it became firmer, more urgent, as if now that he had started, he didn’t know how to stop. His hands moved up to your face, his fingers stroking your jaw while his thumb rested beneath your chin, guiding the kiss with precision and tenderness.

You responded with the same intensity, gripping the fabric of his shirt between your fingers, pulling him closer. It was as if all the weight you had been carrying before was dissolving there, between Ferran's lips. He made you feel whole, desired, enough.

His taste was warm, familiar, and his ragged breaths mingled with yours. The kiss was slow, but full of feeling. As if he was trying to convey to you everything he couldn't put into words. And you understood—every gesture, every pause, every return to the touch of his lips.

He pulled his mouth away for a second, only to rest his forehead against yours, eyes closed.

“I like you just the way you are. With your doubts, your quiet courage... with everything you are,” he whispered.

You smiled, your eyes filled with tears, and pulled him back in for another kiss. This time, softer, longer. No rush. No fear.

Taglist: @paucubarsisimp @nngkay @meganesanchez @htpssgavi @merinottt @luvvpedri @moonvr @joaosnovia @httpsdana @ilovebarcaaaa @p4uul0vr @pedricando @barcapix @owala6789

[mwuaferrari]

i need more ferran stories to read, like rn

[mwuaferrari]

monaco livery reveal

[mwuaferrari]

FRANCO OH MY GOD

[mwuaferrari]

ROOM 308 ୨ৎ chapter 4

lando norris x reader; franco colapinto x reader

sum: because sometimes, being almost his hurts more than not being his at all.

warnings/notes: SMUT!!!!; toxic relationships; lando being a fuckboy; fwb; english is not my native language. italics: conversations in spanish. JUST A FEW MORE CHAPTERS AND FRANCO APPEARS, I PROMISE.

(prev | next)

taglist: @htpssgavi @madkohi

───────────୨ৎ───────────

The return to Madrid was silent.

Helena kept glancing at you on the plane, but she didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to. She knew you too well not to notice you were stuck in some kind of mental loop. The same one that replayed the images of room 308 over and over again like a poorly edited indie film.

As soon as you landed, you switched on “nothing happened” mode.

Messages with Lando: zero.

Instagram stories: happy, outings with friends, mirror selfies, Taylor Swift songs that no one else would understand.

You convinced yourself it was for the best. That it was just a moment. A beautiful mistake. A "what happens in Australia stays in Australia."

That you couldn’t get into something when you didn’t even know if he wanted it.

That if he wasn’t texting, it was because he had already moved on.

That Lily and Carlos were right.

You spent an entire week working hard to get him out of your head.

You went back to work and that helped distract you.

You went out with your friends to those classic Madrid party nights that lasted until sunrise.

Maybe Carlos was wrong and you were one of those people who could easily forget something like that, block out your feelings.

That’s what you thought.

Until one night, you opened your phone and found a new message.

Your heart stopped. Literally.

You looked at the message.

Read it again.

Ignored it.

For six minutes.

Until you replied.

And so began the second wave. Messages again. Late-night video calls. Voice notes with stifled laughter. But you weren’t the same anymore. 

Every word from him made you doubt. Was it real? Or did he just want to sleep with you again? Maybe it was the second option. And maybe, just maybe, you wanted that too.

─────────────────୨ৎ─────────────────

A quiet corner, with hand-painted metal chairs and the smell of toasted bread. When you got to the place where you'd agreed to meet, Lily was already there, sitting at one of the tables looking at her phone.

—Heyyy —you said once you were beside her. She stood up and you shared a hug, two kisses on the cheeks, and both sat down facing each other.

You ordered coffee. She got a flat white. You, an americano. The waiter didn’t take long. For a while, you talked as if you were just simple friends with very separate lives. Flights. Weather. Shows. The excessiveness of your job. Things that didn’t really touch the real surface.

Until Lily tilted her head, set her cup down on the saucer, and said:

—And you? Everything okay?

The question was loaded. It had nothing to do with health, or your job, or the weather.

You brought the coffee to your lips, held it there for a few seconds, and then set it down without drinking.

—Yeah. I mean, yeah… —you said.

—Yeah?

You looked up. Her eyes were fixed on you. Not hard, not soft. Just attentive.

You sighed.

—I’m handling it —you said.

—Handling what? That he’s not texting you? That he is? That you don’t know if you should text him first?

—Lily…

—It’s an honest question.

You didn’t answer. You paid the bill and walked. The air was cool, but the sun made the shadows more intense. Lily’s flight was leaving tomorrow at 9 AM, so you invited her to stay at your apartment for the night.

You knew that meant taking the conversation to another level.

The doorman, don Miguel, greeted you from his desk. He closed his book and stood up.

—Miss, this was left for you a few hours ago.

He had a bouquet in his hands. Big. Wrapped in paper and a white linen ribbon.

It smelled from afar. A perfume of peonies, soft roses, and something else. Something you couldn’t name but pushed your heart to your stomach.

—From who…? —you asked, words hanging in the air.

—No name was left. But there is a card.

—Thanks… —you said, receiving it as if it were fragile.

—Someone’s courting you? —he joked, smiling.

You let out a nervous laugh. Lily just glanced at you from the side. She didn’t say anything, but frowned slightly.

You went up in the elevator without speaking. There was no need anymore.

Once inside the apartment, you placed the bouquet on the dining table. Lily stared at it openly.

—Aren’t you going to open the note?

You bit your lip. The little note was tied with a thin string. You slid it free.

"I know you’ve been struggling with your job. I can’t help you with that, but I hope this softens it —L"

You walked to the kitchen looking for the only decent vase you had, Lily followed you. You filled it with water and arranged the flowers carefully. The note stayed to the side.

—“L”?

—You know who it’s from, don’t be sarcastic —you said.

—So that’s what he’s doing now? Sweetening you up? What else has he sent you? —Lily said, leaning on your kitchen counter while reading the note more closely.

—Actually, this is the first thing he’s sent me. Look, we’ve been talking, a lot, like we used to before what-you-already-know happened. He tells me his stuff, I tell him mine. We video call, we laugh, we have a good time.

—And that’s it? —she asked, resting her elbows on the counter—. Just a good time between friends?

—Yeah. No… —you sighed—We’re not together, we don’t talk about “that”. We keep going like we’re… friends. Just that some things feel different.

—What things?

—The late night calls. How he listens when I’ve had a bad day at work. Or when things go badly on track and all he wants is to talk about anything but cars. Sometimes he texts me just to tell me something silly. Or to tell me what he dreamed that night.

Lily raised her eyebrows.

—Is that what friends do now?

—I don’t know. Or maybe friends who don’t know how to go back to just being that. But we’re not anything else either.

She went quiet for a moment. Then shrugged.

—As long as you’re okay with it.

—He’s not promising me anything, and I’m not expecting anything either. For now.

Lily nodded slowly.

The note stayed on the shelf, the bouquet in the vase, and the smell of flowers filled everything again. Outside, the evening started to fall over Madrid, and for a moment, you thought maybe everything was a little bit okay.

That night, when Lily was already lying down in the guest room and you in yours, the apartment was silent, except for the low hum of the city from the window. You sat on the edge of the bed with your phone in your hands.

You saw him typing. Then he stopped. Again. And again.

Until finally, his reply appeared.

──────────୨ৎ──────────

Saudi Arabia, Sunday, April 18

The paddock was its usual chaos: photographers, engineers, fans, everything in motion. But in the middle of it all, there he was. Lando. With the sun at his back, wearing joggers, a white t-shirt, and hair tousled from the cap he had just taken off. You recognized him immediately, and he recognized you.

He walked toward you in that way of his: distracted, a bit clumsy, with his hands in his pockets.

—I thought you weren't coming — he said.

—Neither did I. I couldn’t come friday and saturday because of work stuff, and I wasn’t going to come today either— you replied, honestly.

Lando smiled. A small one. The kind of gesture that hides more than it shows.

—So?

—Carlos insisted— you said, brushing it off. Even though you knew it wasn’t just because of Carlos.

—I owe him one then— he joked. And looked down a little — You look different.

—Different bad?

—No. More like… you. But Bahrain version.

—That means nothing— you laughed.

—Okay, well, I’m not a poet. I’m a driver.

You stood there for a moment, looking at each other.

The noise of the paddock went on, but the two of you seemed to be on a different frequency. Until you remembered you weren’t alone: you were surrounded by people and cameras alert to any situation. So you took your gaze off him and subtly stepped just a few inches away.

—Thanks for the flowers— you said, voice a little lower.

He nodded, searching your eyes.

—I didn’t know if it’d be weird if I sent them.

—It was weird,— you admitted— but it was also sweet.

—And this…?— he asked, gesturing subtly between the two of you— Is this weird too?

—I don’t know yet.

He took a deep breath.

—Wanna see the cars?— he said then— Or we can grab some water. Or… whatever you want.

—I think I’ll go find Carlos, say hi, and hang out with him before the race starts.

—Want me to come with you?

—No, I’m meeting Lily to go with her… but thanks.

—So we won’t see each other? Will you be in the Williams garage the whole time?—his voice had a soft way of pleading, like he hoped you’d say “no, I’ll stay with you and watch the race from McLaren’s garage.”

—Carlos was the one who invited me after all, Lando—you unconsciously reached for his hand and squeezed it for a few seconds, as if to give him some encouragement— But we can see each other later.

And you did see each other later.

The race didn’t end well for Lando, at least not the way he wanted or expected.

Since he crashed in Q3, everything had gone downhill. He started tenth, trying to save what he could with a different strategy, but the Safety Car never came. By the time he passed Hamilton, Leclerc was already too far ahead. He finished fourth, Piastri first. Another race where he was beaten by his teammate and main rival in competition.

When you found him later, he had already showered and was zipped up to the neck in his team suit. His hair was damp, and his eyes looked tired. He was leaning against a fence behind McLaren’s hospitality area, half-hidden from the rest of the paddock, like he wanted a break from everything.

—Hey— you said, approaching.

He looked up, and when he saw you, he gave a faint smile.

—Here to console me?

—Do you need it?

—Maybe a little.

You stepped next to him without saying more and stood quietly. A minute passed in silence. Then he spoke:

—It wasn’t enough. Again.

—It doesn’t always have to be.— you replied— But look, you’re still up there. It’s just one race.

—Yeah, but it hurt. I lost the lead. And it was my mistake in quali. I took it from myself.

You shrugged gently.

—Then you’ve got one more reason to win the next one.

He looked at you. That look of his that always seemed more honest when he was tired, when he wasn’t smiling for a camera.

—Got plans tonight?

You turned slightly, raised an eyebrow at him.

—Besides comforting a frustrated driver?

Lando smiled, more genuinely this time. He rubbed the back of his neck with a hand.

—I was thinking... Netflix and chill? you and me? ice cream for two? in my room? Unless you’re too busy with Carlos and your spanish friends.

You bit your lip, smiling despite yourself. He noticed. And looked down, like he was suddenly afraid he’d overstepped.

—Only if you want to. I’m not… pushing anything.

—I know— you said softly.

Then you moved a little closer.

—Okay. But only if you pick good ice cream.

—Cookies and cream?

You looked him up and down and squinted.

—Acceptable.

You knew you weren’t going to fix the world that night. But between a silly movie, some ice cream, and a look that said more than everything left unsaid… maybe you could fix yourselves a little.

You lay on top of his bed over the blanket, just a few inches separating your bodies, but still feeling the warmth coming off each other.

You picked a random movie on Netflix, and a few minutes in, you heard him sigh and turned to look at him.

—Are you okay?

—Yeah, just tired.

—I can go to my room, we can watch something another day, or maybe...

—No, stay, please. I want to spend time with you. It calms me down.

A genuine smile appeared on your lips, and then you patted your lap as a gesture for him to rest his head there. He didn’t think much of it and obeyed.

While watching the movie, at some point, you tried not to do it, but in that atmosphere of total trust and peace, your hand found its way to Lando’s hair, your fingers burying themselves in his curls. You heard him sigh in pleasure, so you kept going.

You stayed like that for several quiet minutes. But the mood changed when, on screen, the characters shared an intimate scene. You didn’t expect it, so your body tensed up, your fingers stopped moving, and you slowly pulled your hand away.

But he noticed. He looked up, found your hand, and put it back in his hair. And everything seemed normal. But he looked at you in a way that made every inch of your skin tingle.

—Are you okay?—his voice came out rough. You swallowed hard and nodded. He smiled and looked back at the screen.

You tried to calm down, you really did, but the scene unfolding in the movie only made your mind wander. You imagined if that were you and Lando right now—you truly imagined it.

The torture ended when the movie shifted to a calmer scene and you were able to relax again.

But then you felt Lando’s hand on your leg. You looked at him and he was still watching the movie like nothing, like it was something you did every day. He was doing it on purpose, you knew it.

Then you saw him grab the remote, pause the movie, and turn to look at you directly. There were no more distractions between you. Just him, you, and that suspended tension that seemed to breathe on its own.

—I don't want to pretend I don't feel this,— he says, his voice low, almost a whisper— Not when you're like this, here... with me.

He sits up slowly, still resting his head in your lap, but now his eyes rise to yours, studying you. Your fingers are still in his curls, though they tremble slightly now. He notices, takes your hand and kisses it, softly, as if he's giving you permission to feel.

—May I?— he asks simply, a mixture of respect and desire pulsing in his gaze.

You nod. You can't speak. You don't need to.

Lando slides up your body, with a slowness that quickens your pulse. His torso settles between your open legs instinctively. His lips seek yours as his hands explore your body.

He lowers himself back into the position between your legs as before and begins to undress you calmly, as if each piece of clothing were an obstacle he doesn't want to tear away, but rather reverently push aside.

When you're almost completely naked beneath him (just your top and bra) and his lips travel between your abdomen and your pelvis, you understand there's no turning back.

His mouth descends, and with a single gesture, he settles you more comfortably between the sheets, parting your legs securely. He watches you from below, his gaze fixed on yours as his tongue brushes your inner lips with a slowness that leaves you breathless.

A moan escapes your lips, a soft, almost involuntary one.

—Like that...— he whispers barely, and licks you again, deeper now, more deliberately.

His movements are slow, deliberate. There's no anxiety. It's as if he's testing you, studying you, memorizing your reactions. He caresses you with his mouth, with his fingers, with the labored breathing of someone on the edge of control.

Your hands return to his hair, buried in his curls, guiding him, wordlessly asking for more. He responds, with rhythm and commitment, until you can't help but tremble beneath his tongue.

You arch, gasp, feel him lick you faster, deeper. Then he stops for a second, looks at you, and without breaking eye contact, slides two fingers inside you with a smooth but firm motion.

You moan in surprise at the sudden intensity. At how your body breaks and rebuilds with each thrust of his fingers, with each lick that takes you from this world. Your orgasm comes with an uncontrollable shudder. Lando holds you tightly, continuing to taste you until your body collapses.

But he's not finished.

He sits up, his chest heaving, his lips wet. He undresses slowly, still looking at you. There's no shame in either of us. Only desire. Only trust. Only that feeling of having arrived at a place you didn't know you were looking for.

He settles between your legs and caresses your face.

—I'm going to do it slowly,— he warns you— because I want you to feel everything.

And when he enters you, he does so with a depth that steals your breath. His hips move rhythmically, slowly at first, as if dancing with you. Your bodies understand each other effortlessly. Every moan, every sigh, every word murmured against your neck.

—Watch me— he asks, and you do.

You look at him just as he accelerates, when his body slams into yours harder, with more hunger.

You come again, harder, more uncontrolled. And Lando lets himself go seconds later, his body trembling against yours, his breath ragged, his lips kissing your collarbone as if it were sacred.

He collapses beside you, not fully separating, his arm still around your waist. You don't say anything at first. You don't need to.

But then, he breaks the silence.

—Do you know what I thought while you were on top of me?— he asks softly.

You look at him, still panting.

—That you could be my safe place. And that scares me. But it also gives me peace.

You kiss him, without responding. Because sometimes the body speaks louder than any words.

[mwuaferrari]

Lando watches you leave Franco’s room, your dress twisted, lips bitten, and hair hastily tied up.

He’s leaning against the hotel hallway wall.

— Seriously?

You don’t even flinch.

— Are you following me?

He steps closer. His eyes heavy. His jaw clenched.

— Did you fuck him?

────୨ৎ────

did you like this? 🤨🧚‍♂️✨🎀💓🤍 then go check out my story (Room 308 – Lando Norris x Franco Colapinto x Reader)

franco hasn’t entered the story yet, but soon he will...

[mwuaferrari]

ROOM 308 ୨ৎ chapter 3

lando norris x reader; franco colapinto x reader

sum: because sometimes, being almost his hurts more than not being his at all.

warnings/notes: toxic relationships; lando being a fuckboy; fwb; smut (in the next chapters); english is not my native language. italics: conversations in spanish. JUST A FEW MORE CHAPTERS AND FRANCO APPEARS, I PROMISE.

(prev | next)

taglist: @htpssgavi @/madkohi i can’t tag you 😭

────୨ৎ────

You and your friends decided to stay a few more days in Australia to explore and see the city. Lando was supposed to fly back to Monaco, but he didn’t. Instead, he told Carlos, “It might be nice to stay here a few more days, can I join you guys?”.

You didn’t know if he was doing it to torture you or because he genuinely wanted to spend more time in the city. 

It had been two days and, luckily, you hadn’t been left alone with him at any point.

Until now.

It was 7PM and you had gone out to buy a few things and take a walk alone through the city. As you returned and waited for the elevator with a water bottle in hand and exhaustion in your shoulders, the doors opened… and he was inside. Alone.

—Hey —he said, his voice lower than usual, like he knew you’d run if he was too direct.

 —Hey.

 You stepped in. You had no excuse not to.

The elevator began to rise. Silence.

—Had enough space yet? —he asked suddenly, without looking at you.

You glanced at him sideways

 —No, I don’t know. It’s only been two days…

He nodded, a soft smile that felt more like resignation than anything else. The elevator arrived at your floor, you stepped out, and he followed you. You knew he would.

The hallway was quiet, lit by that dim hotel lighting that makes everything feel more intimate than it should.

You walked slowly, side by side. Not touching. Not talking. But the tension lingered in the air, dense, inevitable.

When you reached your door, you slid the keycard into the lock, waited for the green “click.” You hesitated, and turned toward him.

—Lando…

He was already looking at you and said what he needed to say.

—I don’t want you to think I’m playing with you. Or that this is just a whim.

—I don’t think that. It’s just that, what happened last night, it was… confusing to me.

—Confusing because you don’t want to like it? Or confusing because you liked it more than you thought?

—Because I don’t know if it’s worth it —you answered honestly.

—I’m going to be completely honest with you— He paused, as if searching for the exact words —I liked how you made me feel. I didn’t expect my night to end that way, with you. But it did. And honestly, I don’t regret it.

You stayed quiet, watching him. His eyes didn’t waver from yours. He wasn’t joking, he wasn’t playing. He was there, completely exposed.

—I had to say it —he added, lowering his voice slightly—. Because since that night, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. I feel comfortable with you, I think we have good chemistry, and we laugh a lot together too.

—I feel comfortable with you too.

He sighed, like he was about to say something difficult.

—Look… A relationship is something that takes time. Energy. Presence. And I... I can’t promise that to anyone. My job comes first. It’s always been that way.

There was an uncomfortable silence. Not because of coldness, but because of what his words implied.

—But we can be friends —he added— Real friends. And if it ever happened again... if a night like that repeated itself... I wouldn’t lie. I’d do it again. Because I liked it. I like you. I just... I can’t give you more than that.

Was he asking you to be some kind of friends with benefits or something? To stay friends and “if a night like that happened again, I’d do it again.” That’s basically what he was asking, wasn’t it?

It hurt a little, though it didn’t surprise you. You knew who he was. You knew how he lived.

—Just… let me think about it.

You lifted your gaze. You were shorter than him, almost by a head, so you had to lift your neck to meet his eyes, and you hadn’t realized how close you were. You could feel his breath brushing against yours. “Tell me to stop and I will,” you heard him say.

If he got any closer, you didn’t know if you’d have the strength to pull away. And you didn’t.

Lando leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. The bottle in your hand fell to the floor. The kiss was slow, warm, without urgency. Different from that night. This wasn’t euphoria, or drunkenness, or rushed desire.

Maybe you should’ve pulled away, but you didn’t want to. Maybe your mind wanted to (it didn’t really), but your body didn’t.

You slowly pulled apart, and almost without realizing it, you brought your hand to your lips.

—Good night —he whispered.

—Good night.

And he left.

You stayed there for a moment, leaning against the closed door, your heart racing like the start of a race.

y/n's close friends stories

lilymhe replied: bitch what

↳ y/n: no comments

↳ lilymhe: what did you do now?

↳ y/n: read.

────୨ৎ────

The next morning, the sun was streaming strongly through the hotel curtains, and you had barely slept. You took a long, cold shower, hoping the water would wash away the thoughts from the night before. It didn’t work.

The group had agreed to meet on the hotel terrace to have breakfast together before heading out to explore the city. You went down a few minutes late, thinking that arriving a little afterward would give you the perfect excuse not to have to greet everyone at the same time. Especially him.

The terrace was lively, full of plates, laughter, and the constant clinking of coffee cups as everyone tried to wake up. The sky was clear, the sea could be seen in the distance, and there was a warm breeze—one of those that make you want to stay without thinking too much.

—Hey! Finally, sleepyhead —said Manu as he pulled out a chair for you to sit next to your sister Helena.

—I stayed up late watching TikTok videos —you lied with a smile as you sat down.

The moment you settled in, you felt it. That invisible pressure, that warmth on your neck. You lifted your gaze discreetly, pretending to be interested in the toast, and there he was: Lando, across from you, two seats down, holding a cup of coffee in his hands. His still-wet hair fell slightly over his forehead, and he had that look of someone who hasn’t said a word all day. He was in silent mode... but not for you.

His eyes met yours for a few seconds that felt much longer. He didn’t smile. But he didn’t look away either. As if he were waiting for something.

—Are you okay? —Helena asked quietly while moving a muffin onto her plate—. You seem... spaced out.

—Yeah. Jet lag, I think.

Lie number two of the day.

You tried to focus on breakfast. On the avocado toast. On the orange juice. On the fact that you were in Australia with your friends, on an incredible rooftop, and the sky was so blue it hurt to look at. But he was there. And the memory of his lips on yours, of the way he looked at you afterward, was still present like a scene your mind refused to stop replaying.

—We could go to the aquarium today —suggested Manu, interrupting your thoughts—. It's about twenty minutes away, and then we can stop by the pier. There’s a Korean food spot I heard is amazing.

—Yeah, I’m down —said Carlos—. Everyone in?

The “sí�� echoed one by one. Including the soft, almost inaudible “yes” from Lando. But it was clear. Almost like he wasn’t talking to the group, but to you. Like he was saying yes, I’m going too.

After a few minutes, the table returned to its usual chaos: jokes, photo plans, debates about what to wear, and arguments over who took longer in the bathroom. But you had already checked out mentally. You were eating on autopilot. Every now and then, you looked at him without meaning to. And the worst part… was that he did it too. He watched you as if everyone else around was just background noise.

When you finished breakfast, you got up to go finish getting ready before heading out. You didn’t know whether to get up quickly or slowly. You were hesitating over something as silly as whether to walk near him or not. But when you turned around… he was getting up too.

You ended up face to face.

—Did you sleep well? —he asked, with that quieter-than-usual voice, no smile.

—Not really.

—Me neither.

Silence. Just that. And a glint in his eyes. As if he had said more than it seemed.

And he walked away. Without waiting for a response.

y/n's ig stories

────୨ৎ────

The entrance to the aquarium was impressive, with a glass structure that reflected the sky and huge posters of sharks and glowing jellyfish. Your friends were buying the tickets while you took a picture with Helena in front of the sign.

—Finally, something touristy —said Manu—, I feel like we’ve spent days just eating and sleeping.

—Speak for yourself —Lando replied from behind, and your stomach tightened just from hearing him.

You entered together. The place was full of kids running around, blue lights, and that strange smell between sea and air conditioning. The tour was long, with underwater tunnels, giant tanks, and immersive sounds that made it feel like you were all under the sea.

—Did you see that? —Lando asked suddenly beside you, pointing at a pufferfish that inflated like a magic trick.

—It’s nervous. Like me when I have to speak in public.

He laughed softly, a brief, genuine laugh.

—You seem really calm —he said.

—Sometimes I seem that way. Doesn’t mean I actually am.

—And now?

He looked at you. That kind of look that can’t be disguised. The kind that cuts through.

—Now… I’m not that calm.

He nodded slowly, as if he understood without needing words. And then, without warning, his hand brushed against yours. Just for a second. Just a gesture. But you felt it everywhere. He didn’t hold your hand. Didn’t grip it. Just… brushed it. And that was enough.

He didn’t say anything at first.

—You okay?

—Yeah.

Silence again. A silence that was starting to feel like his way of speaking to you. Until…

—I’m not going to pressure you. But I want you to know it wasn’t just one night for me. And I know I said I couldn’t promise anything serious… but that doesn’t mean I don’t care.

You looked at him. Really looked at him, with everything you were feeling in that moment: confusion, attraction, fear, desire.

—I don’t know anymore if it’s better to have you close… or far away.

—Me neither —he admitted.

[mwuaferrari]

ROOM 308 ୨ৎ chapter 2

lando norris x reader; franco colapinto x reader

sum: because sometimes, being almost his hurts more than not being his at all.

warnings/notes: toxic relationships; lando being a fuckboy; fwb; smut (in the next chapters); english is not my native language. italics: conversations in spanish.

(prev | next)

────୨ৎ────

The first Grand Prix of 2025 was in Australia. The whole group flew out there to support Carlos at the start of the season. You had been to an F1 race before, but never from a team garage—always from the grandstands.

You and Lando had been talking for weeks. The conversations were getting longer, more intimate. Silly jokes, memes, 2 a.m. existential reflections. The kind of messages that shifted from funny to intense without warning.

And although neither of you had said anything explicitly, the tension kept growing with every emoji, every voice note, every time Lando replied with a “wish you were here.”

On Saturday, during the break between FP3 and qualifying, while your sister and the rest of your friends were chatting and mingling in the Williams garage, you stuck close to Lily (Alex Albon’s girlfriend), who had basically adopted you as her official ally among the Williams guests.

—Every time we run into him, Lando can’t take his eyes off you,— Lily murmured while you were replying to some messages on your phone.

—Shut up.

—What’s really going on between you two?

—I don’t know.

—And what do you want with him?

—i don’t know that either.

Lily looked up.

—Then be careful.

—Why?

—Because I know him. Lando’s a good guy… but he can be a mess when he’s not sure about his feelings. Sometimes he gets into things just because he likes how they feel in the moment. And then, when the sparkle fades... he disappears.

You stayed quiet.

—I just don’t want to see you get your hopes up and end up heartbroken,— she said gently.

—I’m not getting my hopes up.

—Of course not,—she replied, giving you a look that said everything.

Still, you went to sunday night’s party wearing a dress that made you feel brave. The group met on a fancy rooftop, warm lights, enveloping music, and glasses that were never truly empty. Lando arrived late, his hair slightly messy and a smile on his face like he was already looking for you in the crowd.

And he found you.

He should’ve been celebrating with his friends. After all, the party was for him—he won the first race of the year.

But instead, he stayed by your side the entire night.

You danced. Laughed. Got closer. The tension became unbearable. As if all the messages you’d exchanged over the past few weeks were now hanging in the air, waiting to erupt.

After that, you don’t remember exactly how it happened.

But you do remember the alcohol burning in your veins, clouding your judgment, blurring boundaries. You remember getting into a taxi and kissing nonstop in the back seat, like the world was ending during that ride. His hands on your bare legs. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling desperately.

You ended up in your room, 308 (the damn 308) where it all began. Where chaos broke loose.

The door slamming shut. His raspy voice asking, “Are you sure?” and your answer being a kiss full of desire.

What came after was fire: gasping laughter, kisses that hurt, clothes flying, whispers against your neck, and the taste of alcohol mixed with his skin.

The first time happened there. In room 308. And even if you tried to forget it, everything always led you back to that place.

Always.

────୨ৎ────

────୨ৎ────

And the next morning, with the light streaming through the curtains and the memory still warm on your skin, you opened your eyes. You slowly turned in bed and faced the man lying next to you. You looked at his face carefully, as if trying to memorize every detail — his messy hair and his chest rising and falling with calm breaths.

But then Lily’s words echoed in your mind, and only one feeling spread through your body: regret.

You didn’t want to have that conversation with him. You didn’t want to see his face if he told you it had been a mistake. You preferred to act like nothing had happened.

So you got up carefully, trying not to wake him, picking up your clothes in silence like a thief sneaking away from her own life.

────୨ৎ────

────୨ৎ────

You did what she told you, not without giving one last glance at the silhouette of the man lying in your bed.

With your heart pounding a thousand beats per minute, you closed the door as quietly as possible so you wouldn’t wake him. Lily was waiting for you across the hallway with an expression you couldn’t quite read. Behind her, Alex had both hands over his mouth, clearly trying not to laugh at the situation.

—Don’t say anything,— you whispered to Lily, lowering your voice as much as you could.

—I won’t say it. But I’m going to think it very loudly.

—Now... I just hope he leaves. And then I’ll pretend none of this ever happened.

—Aren’t you going to tell me the gossip?— Alex jumped in. —I can’t let you stay in my room for free.

You both gave him a tired look, so he sighed in defeat, lying back down on the bed and turning on the TV to distract himself.

About ten minutes passed in silence, and you didn’t move from the peephole.

Then you saw him leave the room. One hand trying to fix his messy hair, a frown on his face as he spoke to someone on the phone. You watched him disappear down the hallway and decided to wait a few more minutes before sneaking back into your room.

—Don’t ask me why I feel worse now than before.

—Because you didn’t want it to be like this. And because now comes the hard part: deciding whether you’re going to keep running... or talk to him.

You didn’t answer.

────୨ৎ────

────୨ৎ────

Your fingers were trembling over the screen. You had read it three times. Four. But you hadn’t replied. You didn’t know what to say.

Because it wasn’t just the alcohol. And it wasn’t just a mistake either. It was the build-up of weeks of messages, of glances, of shared looks in a room full of people. What if you liked him? What if you wanted more?

Your sister Helena, who you had already told about what happened, walked into your room with a look that already knew everything without you saying a word.

—Did he text you? —she asked, sitting beside you. You nodded —And?

—He wants to talk. In person.

She sighed. You could tell she understood, but she wasn’t going to let you run away that easily.

—Please don’t tell anyone. Not Manu, and definitely not Carlos. She nodded.

—Look, if you really didn’t feel anything, just tell him and that’s it. But if you’re running away just because you’re scared of what could happen... you’re going to keep running all year.

—I don’t know what I feel.

—Then talk to him and find out.

You picked up your phone. Hesitated for a few seconds. And then you typed.

────୨ৎ────

────୨ৎ────

If you want me to tag you in the next chapter, let me know :)

[mwuaferrari]

ROOM 308

lando norris x reader; franco colapinto x reader

sum: Lando Norris was never one for commitment, you knew that. His mischievous smile and the whole “we’re just friends” thing were part of the deal. But after months of a no-label relationship, you start to question whether you can keep going with the things you two have. Things get complicated when Franco Colapinto returns to F1 and crosses your path with his natural charm and an interest that’s far too obvious. What began as a game between you and Lando turns into a silent war of glances, jealousy, and choices neither of you is ready to face.

Because sometimes, being almost his hurts more than not being his at all.

warnings/notes: toxic relationships; lando being a fuckboy; fwb; english is not my native language, so any spelling or writing error is the translator’s fault 🧐.

*What is in italics, will be conversations in spanish

*TELL ME WHAT DO YOU THINK!!!!! should i….?

(next)

📌 CHAPTER 1

The plan was simple: socialize, smile, survive.

And then, you saw him entering the restaurant with Carlos by his side.

Your heart stopped for a millisecond.

You never meet him in person, but of course, you knew who he was.

Lando Norris.

McLaren driver. Charismatic. Fast. The one who always seemed to have a joke ready. Many girlfriends, no serious relationships.

You had seen him so many times on screen that it almost felt surreal to have him just a few meters away. And even more surreal was the moment, in the middle of all the people in the place, when his eyes locked with yours.

He smiled. As if he recognized you.

And you felt yourself melt in that dress, which, suddenly, seemed like a bad idea.

But how did you get here? How did HE get here?

Madrid. A december night. Sitting in a restaurant where even the chairs seemed more expensive than your salary. Surrounded by your group of friends, they were celebrating Manuel’s birthday, your sister’s boyfriend and Carlos Sainz’s friend.

— Helena, did you know?

— What?

— That Lando is coming

— Why does it matter? — she replied, not giving you time to answer. — They’re friends, Y/N. I think he just came to visit Carlos in Madrid, and asked if he could bring him. It’s fine, don’t worry

Don’t worry.

— Hola cabrones

Carlos approached the table with his usual easy smile. He greeted everyone with hugs and handshakes. Behind him, Lando followed with his hands in his pockets and that curious look scanning everything.

You tried not to look, but it was hard when the person you had admired for years was about to sit at your table.

— Lando, these are my friends, you already know some of them. — After introducing a few of the people around the table, he finally got to you. — And this is Manu, the birthday boy. Helena, his girlfriend. And Y/N, Helena’s sister.

— And yes, this is Lando — Carlos repeated, turning to him.

— Hey — he greeted with a brief wave of his hand, that half-crooked smile.

He had a more noticeable british accent than in the videos, tanned skin, and eyes even clearer than you imagined.

— Hi — you managed to say.

And that was it. A hi that sounded way too soft. As if it didn’t show that inside, you were screaming.

Lando sat right across from you.

Perfect.

And so the night continued. Your friends laughing, talking about their plans for the holidays, random memories, glasses of wine, and plates arriving non-stop.

Although all of you spoke spanish, you tried to speak in english to not leave Lando out of the conversation.

You tried to stay neutral. Cordial. Avoiding looking at him too much. But every so often, Lando would say something, laugh, or simply look at you, and you’d feel your stomach tighten as if you were fifteen again.

Until Carlos, with a glass in hand and that confidence he always spoke with, said what he shouldn’t have.

—Oh, by the way, Lando — he said, looking between you and him with a mischievous smile —, Y/N is a fan of yours.

You almost spit the wine you had just taken.

—Carlos — you said between gritted teeth, with a forced smile.

—She claims to be a fan of Williams, but I’ve seen her celebrate when you get a good position — said Manuel.

— ¿Quieres que te tire el vino encima? (Do you want me to throw wine on you?) — you whispered between your teeth in spanish so that Lando wouldn’t understand, although everyone was already laughing.

Lando tilted his head, interested. His smile widened, as if he had just been given a gift.

—Yeah? — he asked, looking directly at you, that gaze seeming to go beyond the surface.

—It’s not like that. She is your fan just because you’re good-looking, not because you’re a good driver — Carlos kept attacking.

This made you gasp in indignation, as if he thought you were that superficial.

—No. If that were the case, she’d be supporting Franco Colapinto — your sister suddenly intervened, in a defensive tone, with an eyebrow raised —. She does find him cute, he’s more her type.

Nothing came out of your mouth, just a sigh. You gave in to the humiliation while taking another sip of your drink.

—Franco’s not on the grid — Lando intervened with an eyebrow raised.

—Touché.

—I thought I came here to have dinner, not to be publicly humiliated — you responded, trying to keep the tone light. But you couldn’t help feeling your cheeks burn.

—Well… — Lando intervened — Then I have competition to be your favourite, right?

────୨ৎ────

yourusername

liked by manulopez, carlossainz and others

yourusername As much as I hate always being the third wheel 🤢 happy birthday manu!!!

tagged: manulopez, helenamartinez, carlossainz, two more.

view all comments

carlossainz How many glasses of wine did you drink? 👀

→ yourusername idk, next question

helenamartinez te amamos!!!

→ yourusername me too 😒

→ manulopez she is as affectionate as ever

view all comments

────୨ৎ────

The party continued at Manuel’s apartment, blurry memories from the alcohol you had consumed during the night.

The group got smaller: the closest ones, those who didn’t have to work early, those who still wanted to keep laughing without thinking about the time. Lando, to your surprise, was one of them.

You sat on a couch, this time with a glass of sangria in your hand (you weren’t sure if it was your third or fourth) and Lando dropped down beside you, so naturally that it took you a second to process it.

—Is everything okay? — he asked, leaning a little toward you to be heard over the soft music and laughter in the background.

—Yeah — you responded, maybe too quickly. Then lowered your voice —. I’m just... calibrating my alcohol level.

Lando burst out laughing.

—And how’s the calibration going?

—Mmm... not very well. I feel like I’m floating but my feet are still here — you said, pointing to your shoes as if that proved something.

—That sounds dangerous. Maybe you should stay seated for a while, in case you take off.

—Exactly! — you laughed, noticing that talking to him was... easy. Comfortable. Almost familiar, which didn’t make any sense.

You continued talking. About anything. How confusing the metro signs were. How you couldn’t decide if pistachio ice cream was underrated. Whether spanish was harder to learn than english.

After that, you remember your sister approached you to check if you were okay and decided to take you to bed. You said goodbye to everyone, dragging your feet and stumbling over a few things on the way.

helenamartinez’ ig stories

And the next day...

You woke up in your bed, with a slight headache and the typical post-party feeling: loose images, incomplete phrases, and the anxiety of not knowing if you’d said something embarrassing.

—Helena — you murmured entering the kitchen where your sister was making coffee — Did I say or do something weird last night?

She looked at you over the cup, holding back a smile.

—Define "weird"?

—No. Don’t start

—Don’t worry, nothing serious — she said, shrugging — You were adorable. You talked a lot with Lando, though.

You tried to remember. Just flashes. His laughter. His clear eyes. The cold of the balcony.

Three days later, you received a message from Carlos.

[mwuaferrari]

i’m in love with a fuckinnnnn scorpio man 😭😭😭😭😡😡

[mwuaferrari]

3am in the morning and the 400k slow burn characters finally brush hands

[mwuaferrari]

pairing: oscar piastri x fewtrell!reader, lando norris x fewtrell!reader

summary: Y/N celebrates her birthday (part one)

warnings: SMAU (no written parts), swearing, mature themes, alcohol consumption, use of y/n

previous part | masterlist | next part

a/n: enjoy <3 likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated :) thank you for being here!

★・・・★・・・★

★・・・★・・・★

★・・・★・・・★

★・・・★・・・★

liked by oscarpiastri and 85,397 others

maxfewtrell Happy birthday to my not so little sister

tagged: ynfewtrell

view all comments

ynfewtrell a birthday post?!?!?! i’m emotional 🥹

ynfewtrell WHY DID YOU CROP ME OUT OF ALL OF THE PICS

maxfewtrell Just keeping the focus on what’s important 👍

user LMAOOOOOO

landonorris Bday!

ynfewtrell thank!

user THIS IS SO PETTY I LOVE IT

user the fact that y/n is barely in any of these pics is killing me

user tbh i expected him to hard launch ynoscar 💔

★・・・★・・・★

★・・・★・・・★

★・・・★・・・★

★・・・★・・・★

previous part | masterlist | next part

★・・・★・・・★

TAGLIST: @harrysdimple05 @milkysoop @charlesgirl16 @wosof1 @illicitverstappen @back-on-my-bullsh @revrse @skepvids @screamingwines @a-beaverhausen @l-vroom4 @wildflowerhuggy @meglouise00 @formulaal @smithieandy @sltwins @awritingtree @colmathgames2 @org12 @alice-went-away @grovelingmen @taasgirl @anotherapollokid @d3kstar @gnarlycore @leclercdream @skeleton-elly @verstappensrealwife @seonghwaexile @hellowgoodbye @samantha-chicago @delululeclerc @5sospenguinqueen @riverxsq @s0meth1ngs @silentreader128 @cheer-bear-go-vroom @sarahsobsession @raweceekk @willowsnook @nxlx96 @saythename-sm @lesliiieeeee @landopoet @blushmimi @neferaskingdom @oikarma @mayax2o07 @obxstiles @speeedybaby

TAGLIST IS CLOSED!

[mwuaferrari]

I REALLY WANT TO KISS YOU - LANDO NORRIS

The paddock was nearly empty. Only faint lights illuminated a few tents, and a handful of mechanics were packing up the last tools of the night. Just two races left, and the season would be over. Although the championship hadn’t gone Lando’s way, the atmosphere wasn’t melancholy—it felt nostalgic. A blend of exhaustion, pride, and the inevitable “what ifs.”

You leaned against a metal railing, watching as Lando, a few meters away, chatted distractedly with one of his engineers. He was smiling, but you could sense there was something deeper beneath the surface, something he was working through quietly. When he finished the conversation, his eyes searched for you in the shadows. The moment he spotted you, he walked over with a half-smile that sent your heart racing.

Lando stopped a few steps away, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket and studying you intently.

“What is it?” you asked, your voice light but tinged with nervousness.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his tone playful, that familiar teasing lilt he used to deflect anything serious.

“I wanted to check on you, to make sure you were okay,” you admitted, glancing at him sideways.

He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “You don’t have to. I’m fine, really.”

“I know,” you said, taking a breath as you carefully chose your words. “But… Lando, you did something incredible this year, you know that? Everyone expected big things from the others, but you—you surprised everyone. You fought until the very end, and that’s what matters.”

He looked at you, his eyes searching yours, as if trying to gauge whether you really meant it. When he found no hesitation in your expression, he sighed softly and smiled—this time, with a vulnerability he rarely showed.

“Thank you. Really. I think I needed that.”

You looked at him, and despite his words, something in his demeanor made you want to comfort him. Without thinking too much, you leaned forward and wrapped your arms around him.

Lando stiffened for a moment, surprised, but then let out a small laugh as he hugged you back, resting his chin lightly on your shoulder.

“This helps more than words,” he murmured against your hair.

When you finally pulled away, he didn’t move far. His gaze lingered on yours, and something in his eyes had shifted—something warm that made your cheeks heat up.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, letting out a nervous laugh.

Lando blinked, then leaned against the railing beside you, a genuine, low laugh escaping his lips.

“I was just thinking about something really stupid.”

“What?” you pressed, curiosity evident in your voice.

He looked at you, biting his bottom lip as if debating whether to say it. Finally, with a shrug and a soft chuckle, he confessed, “I was thinking that I really want to kiss you right now.”

Your eyes widened as your heart sped up, heat rushing to your cheeks.

“And that seems stupid to you?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady even as your pulse thundered in your ears.

“A little,” he admitted, “but it’s also true.”

The air between you seemed to grow heavier, charged with a new kind of energy. You stared at him, trying to figure out if he was serious or just teasing.

“So, what’s stopping you?” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding in your chest.

Lando’s expression softened, his usual playful demeanor melting into something more serious as he leaned closer.

“Nothing, I guess,” he murmured.

And before you could say another word, his lips were on yours. The kiss was slow and deliberate, as if he was savoring the moment, ensuring this was exactly what he wanted. When he felt you respond, his grip on your waist tightened slightly, the kiss deepening into something that felt like it had been building for a long time.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were slightly out of breath, wearing matching smiles that neither could suppress.

“Well,” he said, his voice soft and tinged with humor, “that felt a lot less stupid than I thought it would.”

You laughed, giving him a playful shove. “You’re impossible.”

“Maybe,” he replied, taking your hand in his and lacing your fingers together. “But I’m also the guy who just kissed you, so I must be doing something right.”

[mwuaferrari]

IT'S ALWAYS BEEN YOU - LANDO NORRIS

The balcony was quiet except for the soft murmur of the city below. The lights twinkled like distant stars, casting a warm glow on the two of you. You were wrapped in a blanket, knees tucked to your chest, watching Lando pace back and forth near the railing. He seemed restless, his hands occasionally running through his hair as if trying to untangle a knot in his thoughts.

It wasn’t unusual for him to get like this after a race—a mix of adrenaline and reflection that left him needing to burn off energy. But tonight felt different. There was a heaviness in the air, a weight that neither of you had addressed yet.

Lando finally stopped, his back to you as he leaned on the railing. He stared out at the horizon, the faint glow of the moonlight outlining his silhouette. You watched him quietly, sensing he needed the space to find his words.

The wind shifted, carrying the scent of rain and the distant hum of engines. It brought you back to all the moments you’d spent by his side, watching him conquer the world, one race at a time. But this wasn’t about racing. You could feel it in the way his shoulders tensed, in the way he stole quick glances at you when he thought you weren’t looking.

Finally, he turned around, his hands gripping the railing as if it were the only thing grounding him. His gaze met yours, and for a moment, you thought you saw fear flicker in his eyes—not the fear of losing a race, but something deeper, more personal.

"You know," he began, his voice soft but steady, "there are things about me I’ve never been able to share with anyone else. Things I thought I’d carry alone forever."

He took a step closer, his eyes searching yours for something—reassurance, maybe, or courage.

"But with you," he continued, a small, almost nervous laugh escaping his lips, "it’s different. You don’t just see the Lando everyone else sees. You see me, the real me. The boy behind the wins, the mistakes, the fears. And you stay."

Your chest tightened at his words. He was opening a door to a part of himself he rarely showed, and you could see how much it cost him to be so vulnerable.

He took another step closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "It feels like I’ve known you forever, like you were always supposed to be here. Every wrong turn, every moment I thought I was lost—it was all leading me back to you."

Tears welled in your eyes as his words sank in. Lando reached out, his hand brushing yours, his touch gentle and grounding.

"I know I don’t always say it," he murmured, his voice breaking slightly, "but it’s always been you. Even before I knew what I was looking for. It’s always been you."

He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm against your skin. The city seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you, wrapped in a quiet certainty that felt like it had been written in the stars.

[mwuaferrari]

AROUND THE CORNER - LANDO NORRIS

warnings: fluff

lando norris x fem!photographer reader

english is not my first language, so I apologise if any words are spelt wrong!

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈୨♡୧┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

The muffled sound of the engines echoed through the paddock corridors as I adjusted the last details of the team photos. It was intense work, but being there, among the controlled chaos of a race weekend, made it all worth it.

"Hey, do you need any help with that?"

I looked up and there he was, Lando Norris, with that smile that always seemed to light up any room. He was wearing his racing suit half open, revealing the team's black T- shirt, and carrying a cup of coffee in his hand.

"If you knew how complicated this was, I think you'd run." I laughed, trying to hide the nervousness he always caused in me.

"Challenges are my thing." He pulled up a chair and sat next to me, looking at the photos on the computer screen. "Are these for posting tomorrow?"

I nodded, quickly explaining the buttons that he seemed to follow with genuine interest.

"So basically, my job is to look good in the photos, right?" he joked, drawing a smile from me.

"Something like that" I replied, shaking my head. "But to be fair, you're pretty good at what you do."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly pleased with the compliment. "I know. But I like hearing you say that."

We both laughed, and the conversation turned to something lighter. He told us about the fans he'd met earlier and an absurd bad joke competition he'd lost to one of the mechanics.

When the paddock began to empty, I realised it was getting late, but I didn't feel like calling it a night. He seemed equally comfortable, his elbows resting on the table as he watched you with a curious look.

"Have you ever thought about driving?" he asked, breaking the silence that had settled in.

"Me? Not in my wildest dreams. I prefer to stay behind the screen, where everything is safer."

He tilted his head, as if considering something. "Maybe you should try it. Sometimes getting out of your comfort zone is exactly what you need."

"And you speak from experience?"

"Absolutely." He smiled again, but this time there was something different, something deeper in his eyes. "You never know what you might find around the corner."

It was a simple phrase, but it kept echoing in his mind. Perhaps he was right.

"So, when are you going to teach me?"

Lando blinked, surprised. Then the broadest, most genuine smile lit up his face. "Are you serious?"

"Why not?"

"Ok, but just to be clear: if you wreck the car, I'll say it was your idea."

I laughed, feeling that that night had changed something inside you. We got up from our seats and Lando went to his room to change, while I packed up my camera and equipment. 

"Did I see right? Lando Norris was talking to you?" I turned to the voice now closer to me. Lily, my best friend, approaches me

"It's not the first time I've spoken to him, you know, we all work in the same place." I smile at the strategist.

"But it's the first time I've seen him smile like that at someone on the team" I let out an involuntary smile

"He was just being nice" I whisper and pick up my bag. We both left the room in the direction of her car, while I watched Lando from across the road get into his McLaren 

Maybe it was the start of something new - or just an unexpected adventure with Lando Norris. Either way, I couldn't wait to find out what lay around the corner.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈୨♡୧┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

A/N: please let me know if you like it! requests are open!

[mwuaferrari]

little miss wingwoman (3) - ln4

You meet the Norris family, Penelope drops by for a surprise visit, and luckily Christmas Eve goes off without a hitch. Thanks to your amazing skills in everything that comes with being a nanny.

warnings/notes: I, once again, am posting christmas after christmas and i don't care <3 happy hanukkah by the way!! also shout out to my brother who inspired the whole 'athena falling asleep' bit here bc he did this w my baby cousin on christmas eve

(prev | next)

Lando is welcoming in his siblings while you're in the process of finishing up a quick little Christmas Eve dinner. They'd requested nothing crazy, so you'd scoured the internet to find a simple chicken dish, and had Lando go out to buy some games to play with the family. His siblings had all been on the same flight, but with a little rain systems coming through Monaco, his parents flight had been delayed a few hours.

Meaning, you got to be eased into meeting your roommate of barely a weeks family, and spending the holidays with them.

As you finally set down some tin foil over the last few sides, sliding them in the oven on a preheat setting to keep everything warm until Lando's parents arrived, Oliver and Flo poke around the corner to look at you.

You don't notice them studying the way you flow through Lando's kitchen, you're too busy counting over the names Lando had told you--Oliver, Flo, and Cisca, his siblings, you think in that order with Lando ahead of Flo. Then, Savannah, Lando's sister-in-law, and his two nieces Mila and Athena. His parents, Cisca and Adam, though you can't imagine calling them anything other than Mr and Mrs. Norris.

"Oh, guys," Lando's tone is full of smiles, proudly waving an arm to you as you turn around and discard your oven mitts onto the counter, "This is my roommate, Yn."

"Ah!" Oliver smiles, Athena in his hands sraring up at you with wonder in her eyes, "This is the roommate I've heard so much about."

"Oh, god, I hope all good things?" You step around Lando to properly greet each sibling, Savannah, and the girls.

"Lando talks about you a lot." Cisca teases softly, looking over at her brother, who flushed and quickly asked what everyone wanted to drink--safely deterring the conversation. Above everyones scurrying heads into the kitchen, you meet Lando's eyes, and find you can't look away as he crinkles up in a smile before turning to find cups for everyone.

A bit later, Lando runs out to go collect his parents from Nice's airport, leaving you with the siblings. Mila and Athena have taken to exploring the living room under their parents watchful eye as you scour for a good Christmas movie for them--settling on the Grinch after a while, just to have it on in the background. You can tell Athena's getting ready for a nap, but with so much excitement and noise, she seems to be struggling to settle down. Savannah seems a bit flustered, so you take a seat with her on the couch while Flo and Cisca sneak some cookies in the kitchen and gossip.

"So," Oliver starts, "We spent so long catching up with Lando, I never had a chance to ask anything about you."

"Oh, Sorry!" Savannah calls, turning to place a hand on your knee, "Don't want you to feel left out!"

"Don't apologize, it's alright! He's your brother and you said, Savannah, the last time you saw him was Goodwood, which was--what, July?" You say, watching as Cisca and Flo come to the living room, sitting down with their nieces and their toys by the big windows. Savannah offering the girls a thankful smile for taking them off her hands for the time being.

"Yeah, it's been a while." Flo hums, "And Cis and I didn't even see him at Goodwood, we saw him at Silverstone."

"He's so busy with racing, I see why but I still worry for him. He's still just the boy he was when we were young and running amuck through the woods in the middle of nowhere. He had no friends back then, and I worry he isolates himself here too, just blames it on being busy." Oliver leans back, running a hand across his head. You can see the worry for a baby brother he's watched grow clear in his eyes, and Savannah soothes a hand across his shoulders in comfort.

You hum softly, "He's got Max. And Oscar, Charles... Carlos, Alex and George, though I guess George is in London now... a lot of the drivers live close--we actually bought them presents for Christmas. He's got all of Quadrant too."

"And you," Flo prompts, looking up from where Athena tries to grab onto her hair.

"Yeah," you breathe out, turning to Oliver, "And me."

"How'd you meet?" Savannah asks and you smile.

"Max Verstappen, his 'bonus daughter' Penelope is the girl I nanny. I've worked for Kelly since Penelope was maybe three or four months, actually. Just an extra set of hands for her, but now I'm sort of like a housekeep? I watch the apartment when they're gone, cook, clean, help them keep track of everything--the two of them are also so busy." You laugh softly, watching as Athena uses the table to toddle her way over to her parents, Savannah picking up the sleepy toddler and laying her on her chest.

"But, with their baby on the way, the room I was living in is turning into a nursery. They didn't want to move, especially with a whole baby coming, so they helped me find a new place to live. Luckily, I knew Lando... kinda... we never really spoke much before but Penelope adores him so I've been out with Penelope at races or even in Monaco, and run into him."

Savannah watches as Athena scoots out of her hold and climbs across the couch, the curious toddler now taking up space in your lap as you wrap up your explanation, and a place a hand on her back, "So, Lando let me move in. I've pretty much transformed his entire apartment in exchange for the rent he's covering for me."

"I was going to say, it looks a lot better than the last time I was here." Oliver chuckles, Savannah countering with, "Yes, it does. A woman's touch was needed for sure."

"Lando kept asking us all about how to live with a girl," Cisca looks over her shoulder, watching as Flo and Mila move to join you on the couch. Little Athena snuggling into the warm of your hold as you move back.

"I told him it was just like living with sisters," Oliver rolls his eyes, "but he was insistent there was a way to do it wrong."

You laugh softly, imaging the way that he had probably begged for some sort of advice over the phone with his siblings, gently rocking a fussy Athena--who has been refusing her nap since she'd gotten into the apartment almost two hours ago now.

You speak softly, to keep the girl from waking up as she nearly is sleeping, "There really isn't, and I've been moving around so much my whole life I don't really have a set way to live. I kinda just adapt."

Before you can say anything else, the front door opens, and Lando announces he's back. Savannah lifts Athena, who whines, clinging to your shirt, and you shake her off, "I can take her, if it's okay."

"Sure, if it's fine. I wouldn't wanna wake her so close to her falling asleep. Athena loves to cuddle, she's a clinger," Savannah laughs softly, brushing her daughters wild curly hair back. You nod, holding her the way Savannah instructs--missing when Penelope used to be this tiny in your arms.

Lando's parents--Adam and Cisca, are happily talking with their children when you round the corner into the kitchen. Everyone turns with your presence, smiling at the sight of Athena curled in your arms, Mrs. Norris audibly aweing at the scene as you smile.

"Hi, it's really lovely to meet you both," You say softly, stepping over so they can give you hugs and greet their granddaughter who refuses to come out of the comfort she'd found nestled in your chest.

"I'll get the food out," Lando says, "I imagine you're all starving,"

"God, please." Flo whines, Oliver going to help his brother. You linger with the Norris parents in the hall, smiling softly as Athena lets out little snores against the warm fabric of your sweater. Savannah long gone after being dragged off by Mila.

Mrs. Norris moves into the kitchen, laughing as she scolds her sons for stealing bits of food while they bring everything out. The stack of bags and gifts flow down the hall now, the jackets and shoes overflowing the racks, and you can't help but smile at the liveliness of the once empty apartment.

"You're a real charmer," Adam says after a second and your attention is drawn to Mr. Norris. He grins, "Haven't seen Lando this organized in years."

You laugh softly, rubbing a soothing hand up and down Athena's back, "It's the least I could do for him, considering he won't let me pay rent. He's been really kind to let me live here."

"That's Lando for ya," Adam looks at his son in the kitchen, helping Mila get seated at the table, "He'd give you the skin off his back if he could."

As if sensing you both looking at him, Lando's head perks up, scowling as he comes over. He takes his father's jacket out of his hands and urges him to go get a plate of the food you'd 'slaved over' making all day in the kitchen. You can't help but giggle as he shoos away his father's knowing smile and wave as he goes to join his wife and kids.

"Thanks for saving this whole holiday," Lando looks over at you, catching the way you're already looking at him. A soft smile gracing your lips as you sway the toddler in your arms.

"Your family is lovely," you reply softly, "I'm glad I could do something for them."

Lando's quiet for a moment, the both of you just watching eachother. Turning back when Flo and Cisca start cracking up over some teasing thing Mrs. Norris is saying as Oliver scowls and rebukes whatever she's saying.

"Do you want a plate?" Lando says, "I can get mine last."

"No no, wouldn't want to wake Athena. I can always heat it up after she wakes." You wave a hand, and Lando nods, stepping closer to wipe a crumb off your cheek and brush a piece of hair back into place before Flo calls him over. You wave him on and he goes, making a spectacle about making his way back to the group.

Slowly, you make your way back into the living room, slowly sinking down on the couch and getting comfortable with Athena still snoring in your arms. And as the Norris' carry on in the kitchen, you can help but lay your head back on the cushions, cuddling in to the comfiest position you can find.

You fall asleep around the point Martha May announces her love for the Grinch, and right before Flo brings out Uno for the group at the table to play.

Lando comes over about twenty minutes later, pausing when he sees you knocked out. The rest of the family peeking around the corner as Lando grabs a blanket from the chair in the corner and walks over to where you are--Athena still snuggling into your hold. He gently drapes the blanket over the two of you, grabbing a pillow to lay under your head so your neck isn't killing you in the morning, and just takes a pause to sit next to you.

His eyes travel down your hair, to your closed eyes, parted lips, the soft breaths that leave you. The way Athena has tucked herself against your chest like she just knows you're safety, that you know how to take care of her. He lifts the blanket a little higher, resists the urge to press a chaste kiss to your forehead, and stands.

No one moves fast enough for him to not catch them staring.

"Looked like you were gonna kiss her for a second," His father chimes. Lando feels heat rise to his cheeks as his siblings laugh and he just waves away their comments as he comes back to play the game with them.

When Athena stumbles in to cuddle her mom about thirty minutes later, he peeks out to see you still asleep on the couch and tilts his head. Oliver leaning on the wall leaning into the living room as Lando steps forward, tucks his arms underneath you and carefully lifts you. It's not graceful by any means, but when your eyes flutter and you settle in as he holds his breath, Oliver bites his lip to keep himself from laughing at Lando.

"I'll get the door." Oliver says, nodding his head to where the spare bedroom is. His whole family pretends not to see him nearly whack your head into the wall when he brings you into your room and lays you on the bed. Mrs. Norris does come to ensure her son has you tucked in properly, with the blinds lowered to block out the setting sun as you curl up in your bed.

"Poor thing, she's absolutely knackered." She hums, waving Oliver out of the room as Lando sheepishly rubs his neck, walking over to her.

"She cooked all day, and we've spent the week decorating everything," his voice is soft as he looks over at your sleeping form in the bed, before his mother pulls him out of the room to shut the door.

"Well, she did a wonderful job." She winks knowingly at him, earning a shy laugh from Lando as she brings him back over to the table to keep playing games.

You do manage to get up and freshen up around nine, after his family has left to sleep off their jetlag. Lando's sitting on the couch with--surprisingly to you, Penelope.

"Max dropped her off, he and Kelly have dinner with their parents and P was supposedly exhausted." Lando pokes the girls cheek, but you can see she's clearly wide awake, sheepishly smiling up at you as you chuckle to yourself.

"I'm sure she was," You chime, sitting down at the counter as Penelope climbs up to sit next to you, leaning on you and looking up at you through her long lashes.

"I just didn't wanna go." Penelope admits softly, "All everyone's been talking about is the baby. I don't care about the stupid baby, I wish it was just me again, and I didn't have to fight this little thing in my Mommy's belly for some attention."

You hum, rubbing a hand up and down Penelope's back. She'd been complaining to you about the baby since you'd gotten back to Monaco, and you'd brought it up to Max and Kelly already. From the time spent in their apartment with them, you knew it wasn't their fault Penelope was feeling this way--after her first complaint. They'd both apologized to her, and explained it to her, and after that Penelope had been fine for a while.

But having every single person in your extended family fawning over the unborn baby in your mothers stomach--buying him tons of gifts and clothes, things Penelope was used to be doted onto her, the shift had to feel weird.

"Max and Kelly still love you," it's Lando who chimes from the couch, groaning as he stands up and stretched out his shoulders, "It's been hard for them with the baby coming, and you know how much the baby needs."

Penelope nods and you pout. Usually, Christmas Eve was reserved for the Verstappen-Piquets to spend the entire night together. But it seemed every one of their traditions had been tossed aside.

"How about this," you say softly, "I have some stuff left over to bake. Why don't you, Lando, and I make some cookies for Santa, hm? We can leave them out at your apartment when I drop you off."

Penelope does light up at that and agrees, so as Lando helps her get supplies, you finish shoveling your dinner into your mouth before standing to help them with baking.

By the end of it, after Penelope's roped you and Lando into a flour fight you know is going to be a disaster to clean up, you and Lando end up carrying up a sleeping Penelope and a plate of cookies. Max laughs softly at the sight of the three of you covered in flour, and Kelly thanks you both for staying up later to watch her.

When you return to Lando's apartment, the two of you elect to finish watching whatever movie is playing on the tv. And the quiet moment, broken by occasionally showing each other something on your phones or asking questions about this absolutely absurd 80s christmas movie, just fills the home with a sense of warmth you aren't expecting to feel.

It almost makes you not want to go to bed, but alas, the Norris' are coming back over in the morning, so you two duck off to bed eventually--hesitating to part due to the invisible magnet that holds you close.

SEE NOTES ABOUT TAG LISTS BELOW:

general tag list (open, tagged in all my fics, will not update for this series. If you'd like to be added to my general list FOR this series, let me know and I'll tag you in the comments!

@d3kstar @justalittlejess @tvdtw4ever @llando4norris @daemyratwst @piastri-fvx @sltwins

series specific tag (closed BUT SEE BELOW!!)

@nikfigueiredo @ilovechickenwings @supertrashbread @sltwins @mwuaferrari @si1ver06 @linnygirl09 @kikiki81 @kittylolly4 @lazybot @tylerstacobell @formula1fordisaster @sheblogs @suns3treading @kqliie @jxnellat @anxiousbananna @hard4ndsoft @majasophieanna @diorbrxtz @freyathehuntress @obxstiles @cstads-blog @wierdflowerpower @delululeclerc @honethatty12 @henna006 @chlmtfilms @littlegrapejuice @piastrams @ravisinghs-wife @sturmatt @sagestack @bravo-delta-eccho @eiffel-hood @widow-cevans @ash88-yep @emryb @changetyre @raynetargaryan2 @callsignsiren @mayusaatma @sid-is-gr8  @awritingtree @urstepdaughter @4-ln4

TO BE TAGGED IN COMMENTS OF EACH NEW CHAPTER:

@celestrablack @hadids-world @keij0h @annimausi

(thank you to all the new people (and my return readers ofc), and everyone who has left such kind words!! happy holidays to you all <3)