A TALE OF FAME

The pretty interviewer

Max Verstappen x reader

Summary: You are Max's favorite interviewer...so much that he will not stop flirting with you.

Warning: None

Three Races Earlier...

You stand off to the side of the paddock, fidgeting with your Sky Sports F1 microphone. Being the newest member of the broadcasting team means you usually get the less prominent interviews, while the veteran reporters get drivers like Max Verstappen. Today, you're supposed to be interviewing one of the midfield teams.

The buzz in the paddock suddenly intensifies as Max emerges from the Red Bull garage after his stunning pole position. A swarm of reporters immediately crowds his path, microphones thrust forward, voices overlapping with "Max! Max, a moment, please!"

You watch from your quiet corner as he walks past them all, his expression neutral, barely acknowledging their presence. It's a familiar scene – Max is known for being selective with media, often choosing to speak only with a handful of senior reporters.

That's why your heart nearly stops when his eyes suddenly lock onto you. His face transforms with a smile, and before you can process what's happening, he's changing direction, walking purposefully toward your corner.

"Sorry," he says to the shocked reporters behind him, not sounding sorry at all. "I'm giving my first interview to her."

Your producer's voice crackles in your earpiece: "Wait, what's happening?"

Max stops right in front of you, that signature half-smile playing on his lips. "Hi," he says simply, as if he hasn't just snubbed every major broadcaster in the paddock.

"I... um..." You scramble to gather your thoughts, acutely aware of the jealous stares from the other reporters. "Hi?"

He laughs softly at your confusion. "You're new, right? I've seen you around. You ask good questions – technical ones. Not just the usual PR stuff."

"I... yes, I started this weekend," you manage to say, still stunned. "But shouldn't you be talking to—"

"I'm talking to exactly who I want to be talking to," he interrupts, his Dutch accent somehow stronger when speaking quietly. "So, would you like to hear about that qualifying lap?"

𐙚

That first interview changed everything. Since then, Max has insisted on giving you his post-session interviews, each one becoming progressively more flirtatious than the last. Which brings you to today...

The Red Bull garage looms ahead as you adjust your Sky Sports F1 microphone for the thousandth time. Post-qualifying interviews are routine by now, but nothing about interviewing Max Verstappen has ever felt routine. Especially not since he started doing... whatever this is.

"Three minutes," your producer says through your earpiece. You try to focus on your questions, but all you can think about is last week's interview, when Max had deliberately held your gaze so long you'd forgotten the second half of your question.

He emerges from the garage, race suit tied at his waist as usual. Your heart does that familiar stutter-step as he approaches, wearing that infuriating half-smile that makes you forget basic English.

"Max, congratulations on another pole position—" you begin professionally.

"Thanks," he interrupts, eyes twinkling. "I was hoping it would be you interviewing me today."

You feel the heat creep up your neck. Stay professional, you remind yourself. "That last lap was incredible. How did you find the grip through—"

"The grip was good," he says, then leans slightly closer than necessary. "But you seem a bit nervous today. Everything okay?"

Your producer snickers in your ear. Traitor.

"I'm perfectly fine," you manage, though your voice comes out higher than intended. "About turn three—"

"You're cute when you're flustered," he says quietly, just low enough that the microphone won't pick it up. The smirk playing on his lips tells you he knows exactly what he's doing.

You nearly drop your notebook. "I'm trying to conduct an interview here," you whisper back, fighting a smile.

"And I'm trying to ask you out," he counters smoothly, before raising his voice back to interview level. "But yes, turn three was tricky today. The crosswind made it challenging."

Your face feels like it's on fire. You're painfully aware of the camera rolling, capturing what must be the most unprofessional blush in F1 broadcasting history.

"Speaking of challenges," Max continues, clearly enjoying himself, "there's this great restaurant in Monaco that's almost impossible to get into. I have a reservation for two tomorrow night... if you're interested in discussing race strategy, of course."

You hear your producer choking back laughter. "The interview, Max," you remind him, trying to sound stern despite your racing heart.

"Right, right. The interview." He grins. "But about dinner..."

"Maybe we should finish talking about your qualifying lap first?" You're fighting a losing battle against your smile now.

"Fine," he sighs dramatically, then winks. "But just so you know, I'm going to keep flirting with you until you say yes."

Your producer is practically cackling now. "Best. Interview. Ever," she whispers in your ear.

"The qualifying lap, Max," you insist, but you're grinning too.

"The qualifying lap," he agrees, finally straightening up and attempting to look serious. "But I should warn you – I'm very persistent. Almost as persistent as I am on track."

You shake your head, trying to remember your questions through the butterfly storm in your stomach. One thing's for certain – this interview is definitely going to go viral on F1 Twitter.

And maybe, just maybe, you'll say yes to that dinner in Monaco.

𐙚

You barely remember how you finished that interview, your mind still spinning from Max's dinner invitation. But the real chaos was only beginning...

Your notifications haven't stopped buzzing since that interview went live. #MaxAndTheReporter is trending on Twitter, and F1 TikTok is having a field day with edited clips of every interaction between you and Max from the past three races.

"OMG THE WAY HE LOOKS AT HER " reads one viral tweet, accompanied by a slow-motion clip of Max's eyes softening when he spots you in the paddock.

"Remember when Max used to HATE interviews? Now he's literally running to them. #MaxAndTheReporter" says another, with a side-by-side comparison of his usual stern media demeanor and his smile when approaching you.

Your producer sends you a link to a fan-made compilation video: "Every time Max Verstappen has flirted with the Sky Sports reporter (so far)." It has 2 million views already.

Not everyone's convinced, though. "She's just another reporter," one skeptic tweets. "Max is probably just being nice."

That theory gets blown out of the water during the next race weekend. You're in the middle of interviewing Carlos Sainz when Max casually walks by, then does such an obvious double-take that Carlos starts laughing mid-answer.

"I think someone wants to interrupt this interview," Carlos teases, watching Max hover nearby with poorly concealed impatience.

"He can wait his turn," you say professionally, though your cheeks warm as you hear Max chuckle behind you.

"Can I?" Max calls out. "Because I'm pretty sure my dinner reservation is in an hour, and someone still hasn't given me an answer."

Carlos raises his eyebrows, grinning. "Ah, so the rumors are true?"

Your producer's voice crackles through your earpiece: "The socials are going absolutely crazy right now. This is better than Drive to Survive!"

Later that evening, a photo surfaces of you and Max at that impossible-to-get-into restaurant in Monaco. He's looking at you instead of the camera, that soft smile on his face that F1 Twitter has dubbed the "reporter smile." The fan theories explode:

"HE REALLY TOOK HER TO DINNER, I'M SCREAMING" "The way he only smiles like that for her." "Remember when we thought Max would never date someone in the F1 media? This man really said 'Watch me."

Your phone buzzes with a text from Max: "Have you seen we're trending again? "

You send back an eye-rolling emoji, trying to ignore the butterflies that haven't settled since that first interview.

"Good," he replies. "Maybe now everyone knows why I only want interviews with you."

Your producer sends you a message: "Just wait until they see tomorrow's pre-race interview. The internet might actually break."

You smile, thinking about how a simple paddock interview three races ago changed everything. From reluctant interviewee to... whatever this is becoming, Max Verstappen has definitely kept his promise about being persistent.

And honestly? You wouldn't have it any other way.

a small request

max verstappen x reader | 2k

even world champions deserve love letters. after missing the mexico gp, you're determined to see max have a good weekend in brazil. maybe all it takes is a handwritten note.

cw: fem!reader, being in love, softness, a track-side kiss, love letters. and google translate, sorry to any dutch speakers.

a/n: was this inspired by that video from austin? yeah, it was! sue me! also, written/posted before the gp, so. no race details <3 xx

__

You miss race weekend in Mexico. It happens. You can't be there every weekend, much as you'd like to be. You're even more peeved about it after, considering you quite like Carlos and wish you had seen him earn what very well might be his last win with Ferrari. But you're mostly upset because Max, though he won't say so, could probably have used your support.

Years of experience have him calm, cool, and collected despite the team troubles. Flippant, some headlines say. Mad Max, others. But you know he's probably just tired. Tired of the media, of the FIA, of the churning conflict between him and Lando -- something you all knew was coming someday, but maybe not so suddenly. The longest season ever continues to drag and drag and drag.

"Twenty seconds was...Christ, Max," you say. You know what happened, of course. You watched what you could, saw the sharp moves around the corner and heard the radios. It never gets easier, watching him take risks like that. Usually, everyone else backs off, but McLaren can see victory on the horizon and won't let it go. You can't blame them, either of them, you just wish it was all a bit less tense.

"I know," he says, voice raspy over the connection. "I -- well, you know how I feel about it. Don't want to say anything in case the FIA is tapping my phone."

You laugh into your hand so you don't disturb the other people in the airline lounge, not entirely used to places like this, still. Max has told you over and over that it's absurd for you to spend your own money when you're coming to see him all over the world. When you told him you moved things around so you could come to Brazil, he booked you the nicest ticket, per usual.

"Oh, ha, ha," you say. "Don't give them any ideas, Mr. Community Service." You sigh. "Do you need anything? Be honest."

"Aren't you at the airport already? Your flight should be leaving in --" A pause, like he's checking his watch -- "forty minutes."

You glance up at the departures screen. He's right, but you don't give it to him so easily. "Know my schedule, do you?"

"Well, I booked your ticket, so I should think so."

"Your assistant booked it, you mean."

He hums and you picture him in his hotel room, maybe at the window, looking over the city. "I know your flight information. Don't be silly."

"I mean it, Max," you say again. "Is there anything I can do to make the weekend better?" It's a bit of a useless question and you expect him to answer with a snarky get me a new car or apply for the position of steward.

But he doesn't. He clears his throat.

"I'm just glad you're coming," he says, softly. "I've missed you."

You never doubt how Max feels about you, but he must be pretty tired to admit it like this. He's all about actions, this man. Making sure you have what you need when you're at the track, arranging your travel, remembering your schedule. He shows you how much you matter, and that's more than enough. He never wants to make you feel bad for having a life beyond being his girlfriend. And this doesn't, not really. It just makes you ache, fills your chest with the hopeless affection you've felt for him for so long.

"I've missed you, too," you reply. "But I'd like to be useful."

"Oh, I can think of a few things, then," Max says, all of a sudden all cheek. Such a boy, sometimes. A boy in love.

You can't help but laugh, face hot. "Hush, you!"

He huffs. A few beats of silence, the comfortable, well-worn kind. Sometimes, when he's halfway across the world and up late on the sim, he'll call you just to hear you breathe.

"Max?"

"I -- do you remember what you did for my birthday?"

He'd wanted something small, quiet. There was a lot of work to be done with the team but three weekends off meant you had a little time to yourselves. A few days hardly leaving his place, a dinner with some of the guys, a cake you made yourself, hand-delivered in bed. Gifts for a very wealthy man are difficult, especially since Max doesn't seem to want much.

"Oh, the pillow with my face on it?"

Max laughs. The lounge loudspeaker announces that your flight is going to board soon, so you gather your things but keep your phone wedged next to your ear.

"No, the other thing," he says. He clears his throat and summons some of that World Champion courage. "The letter."

You'd written him a fairly long love letter, thinking it would be a nice thing to carry to the races you couldn't be at this fall. It was tempting to be embarrassed about it when you gave it to him the morning of his birthday, but his cheeks had gone pink and he'd buried his face in your neck.

"Oh, that," you say. The airport is busier outside the lounge and you push your case in the direction of your gate weaving between. people.

"You could write me another, maybe."

Max is direct. He is honest, at work and at home, but this surprises you a little.

"You do know I'm about to get on a plane to see you, right?"

He huffs, and you imagine his cheeks pink, eyes bright. "You asked!"

"I'll write you another love letter, Max Verstappen," you assure him. "I'll write you a hundred."

"One is a fine start," he says firmly. "You should be boarding soon, and I've got to go to the press conference. Text me when you've landed?"

"Of course," you reply, eyes rolling though he can't see. "I'll see you soon, okay? Love you."

"Love you, liefje."

On the plane, you tear out some pages from your journal. You'd prefer to have some nice stationery like what you wrote on for his birthday, but maybe this is more romantic, more real. Making do with that you've got because he asked.

In the last one, you told him your memories of when you first met. How your stomach swooped when you made him laugh, how his blue eyes wouldn't leave your dreams. In this one you tell him about when you first realized you loved him. How absurdly early you were sure, how badly you wanted to tell him for weeks. The way you remember every second of when you blurted it out -- his face, his smile. His voice in your ear, telling you over and over, geliefde, ik houd van je, zo veel. I love you, so much.

"You're working hard on that," someone says. You look up at your seatmate, a woman a few decades older than you with a heavy accent.

You feel a little like you've been caught doing something illicit, but you just smile at her. "For my boyfriend," you tell her. "A love letter."

She flattens her palm over heart and sighs. "How lovely," she coos. "I hope he takes care of you, too."

We take care of each other, you want to say. You could tell her about how he sends you postcards from every country he goes to after you told him you like to put them on your fridge. You could tell her how sometimes you text him during his streams to make him laugh on camera. How he remembers your favorites, how he saves you his special team gear, how he sends you flowers all the time. How he likes to sit on the couch, your toes under his thigh, fingers around your ankle. How you've been learning Dutch and how he patiently corrects your pronunciation. You could go on and on and on.

"He does," you say instead.

__

The plane lands safely in Brazil, but the pilot tells you that there is no open gate and that you'll be sitting for a while. You text Max.

stuck on tarmac, will be later than expected! :(

He must be in media responsibilities still because he doesn't reply until you finally get off the plane.

go relax at the hotel. i'll see you for dinner!

You find your ride easy enough and take a deep breath. The letter you wrote on the plane feels heavy in your pocket, and you just want to see Max. To be near him again. To give him this small thing he asked for.

"Excuse me," you say to the driver. "Do you think we could go to the track, instead?"

You text Max's assistant to say you're headed there, hoping it's not too much of an inconvenience. You're told he's almost done, maybe an hour left, and when you arrive you're led to his driver rooms. His shit is everywhere, per usual. Max is quite neat except in here -- Carmen once told you that George is the same. Clothes strewn about, his race boots unlaced and left in the way, warm-up equipment in a pile. On the table are a few of his things -- his wallet, a notebook, some papers.

Wait a second. One of those papers looks...familiar. It's been folded in three, the envelope it came in nowhere to be seen. His name is scrawled on the blank side in your hand and when you tug it from the pile you can see that it's creased, the edges a little more worn than when you gave it to him a few months ago. Max Verstappen, three-time World Champion, actually carries around the love letter you wrote him. Brings it to the track. It's darling. You love him so much. You pull the new one from your pocket and set them side-by-side on the table where he'll find them.

You ask to be taken to the pit wall, please, so you can see whatever the drivers are doing on track. Some dedication, you're told. The timing ends up being perfect and you get there just as they're finishing. You lean on a gap in the barrier where, on Sunday, crew members will be holding timing signs as the drivers zip around the hot pavement. The crowd in the stands is loud, as always, and maybe you imagine it but it seems to get a little louder when you look out.

The guys are talking amongst themselves and a few of them wave at you. You spot Max as he turns away from Charles and you can't help but grin. His eyes meet yours under his cap and his entire face chances, softens, and he breaks into a jog. You lean out over the concrete ledge and meet him in a kiss that's more two smiles pressed together than anything else.

"This is a surprise," he says when he pulls away. Eyes sparkling, he shows no signs of rejoining the other drivers as they head to whatever their next thing is. Photos, probably.

"I missed you," you tell him. "I've left you something in your room."

"Oh?" He straightens the lanyard of your credentials with careful fingers.

You reach for him, palm on his cheek. His stubble tickles and he leans into it ever so slightly. It doesn't feel like there are thousands of eyes on you, not even a little.

"Yeah," you say. "As promised." Someone calls his name. "Go on, then. I'll be waiting."

He kisses you again, a quick brush of his lips on the corner of your mouth.

Later, you'll wake from your nap in the hotel room to those same kisses on your cheeks, your forehead. Max will gather you in his arms and tell you all the moments he almost told you he loved you, how he could hardly believe when you said it first. You'll tease him for how many times he's read that first letter and he'll cheekily say that's why he needs more. And you will write him more, you'll write him as many as he wants. As many as you can, for the rest of your lives.

But now, in front of thousands of screaming fans, he smiles at only you, boyish and pleased.

DON'T LEAVE ME

Ollie Bearman X fem!reader

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

Words: 3.0K+

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

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

MASTERLIST

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

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

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

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

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

It was disgusting how anxiety acted like that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hospital."

She looked around.

"Hospital?"

Ollie nodded, trying to hold back his laughter.

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

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

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

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

Y/n looked at their intertwined hands and frowned.

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

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

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

"My boyfriend? You?"

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

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

"Ah... then I chose well."

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

"Do people live together?"

"Yes, we recently bought an apartment."

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

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

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

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

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

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

Y/n smiled, turning to him.

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

Ollie laughed, confused by the bombardment.

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

Y/n nodded slowly, looking around.

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

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

She chuckled softly. "Just scientific curiosity."

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

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

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

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

Ollie frowned, laughing. "What?"

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

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

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

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

Ollie arched an eyebrow.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Did you wish you had wings?"

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

Ollie laughed.

"Fair enough. Very emotionally healthy."

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

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

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

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

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

Y/n squeezed his hand lightly.

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

"An angel on duty?"

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

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

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

"Back to talking about marriage..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

She let out a muffled chuckle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ollie frowned and laughed along.

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

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

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

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

Ollie laughed, delighted.

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

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

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

"So how do you curse others?"

"With the hand and with the radio."

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

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

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

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

"You just asked me!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah!"

She turned slightly in bed.

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

"You look beautiful."

"You are obliged to say that."

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

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

"Was it hurting?" Ollie asked cautiously.

"No..."

Ollie laughed. But she frowned.

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

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

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

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

"Thank you..." She sniffs.

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

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

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

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

Ollie lowered his phone, alert.

"Beautiful...? In what sense?"

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

Ollie looked at her, surprised.

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

Y/n smiled slightly, hesitantly.

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

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

Y/n chuckled softly, groggily.

"Rocket eyes, Ollie?"

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

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

"Do you really think so?"

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

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

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

Before he could respond, she continued.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm gong to put 'being a WAG' on my CV"

Authors note: Here's a little Max Verstappen x TechCEO!Reader. Bet you didn't see that comng. Anyway, got the idea for this a few days ago, and I guess my love of Italian food made me finish this

Summary: Max's new relatioship causes a social media stir, but the new couple couldn't care less whilst in Italy.

Warnings: English isn't my first language, no use of Y/N, female reader, famous reader

Word count: 2k

You understood it, to a degree. Max had just broken off a three-year-long relationship right before summer break, and now suddenly he was spending the summer with you. Now you’re at the paddock... No wonder people thought there was some crossover.

The truth? You two met last New Year's at a party for some sporting event. You, being one of the sponsors for your country's national sports committee, were invited, and Max... well, Max was Max Verstappen. You hit it off, exchanged numbers, showed him around your company a few times, and took him to all of your favorite restaurants in NYC. But you knew he had a girlfriend; everyone knew. And he was taking care of her kid too.

That breakup was hard on him. He had stopped loving her, but he couldn't just kick a woman and her kid out of his house. Max waited for them to have a huge fight, and then they just... broke up. And to your surprise, he was in New York the next day, saying that he needed someone to talk to. Bullshit. You knew he liked you. Otherwise, he wouldn't have come all the way here 'just to talk.'

But here you were, in Italy, spending time with him before Monza. You were currently typing away on your phone, trying to make peace in the finance department. Max glanced up from his phone every so often, stealing peeks at you while grinning.

He had never quite been so into someone like you. You were smart, funny, talented, pretty, and on top of all that - you were also rich. But you were also the most challenging girl to flirt with Max had ever met.

"You look like you could use a break," he said, after watching you tap away at your work laptop for a few minutes.

"Probably. What's the point of having interns if they don't do anything?"

"Then you should consider hiring me; I'm pretty good at helping out," Max teased, looking up from his phone and sending you a cheeky smile. He loved a woman who was in power, who knew what she was doing, and he could tell you were used to being the boss. "Come on, take a break. You know you deserve it," Max encouraged, resting his hand on top of yours to stop you from working some more.

"I guess I could eat…" You say, closing your laptop. "I saw on Google Maps that there’s a nice pizza place down the road. We can go if you’re hungry.”

Max smiled and nodded. “Yes, I’m starving; let’s go,” he said, reaching for the car keys.

“No, it’s okay, let’s walk,” you stop him. He turned towards you, slightly confused. Usually, women would give anything to drive around with Max Verstappen. Maybe that’s just what makes you special.

The two of you walked out of the hotel, your bodyguard Lenny standing outside the door. The tall, muscular man just nodded as the two of you entered the elevator. Max found it funny that you preferred Lenny guard your stuff more than you. Especially the laptop. He sometimes wondered what you kept in there...

“Is Pierre gonna be at the race?” you asked as you exited the building, breaking the silence.

Max’s head snapped towards you, and he raised his brow. “Uh, yes, of course he is… Why?”

“Because I want to see Kika.”

“Oh, so she’s your secret F1 crush, eh?” Max said, relaxing.

You laughed. “Pierre is a solid seven with a better haircut. Kika is a twelve on a bad day.”

As you got to the bigger streets, you started to understand why Max drove everywhere. Unlike you, who were a chiller and niche celebrity, despite being incredibly rich, Max was a real superstar. Your short walk to the pizza shop became a fan meet and greet, with people coming up to you every three seconds and asking for photos.

“Is this your girlfriend?” one of the people asking for a picture asked. As you finished taking the photo, you noticed Max’s slightly flustered face as he heard the question. He stumbled, but you answered with a simple “Yeah.”

As you arrived at the restaurant, you noticed that Max was staring at you. He seemed… surprised. You laughed at his facial expression. The sound of your laugh calmed him instantly, his heartbeat beginning to return to normal. Max cursed himself in his head; he was better than this. He chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Is it something I said?"

Max ran a hand through his hair, feeling his cheeks heating up slightly. "No, no... Not really," he reassured you, trying to sound casual. "I was just... thinking."

"Okay, well I'm thinking about the food. I think a Vesuvius sounds great right now."

Max chuckled and quickly glanced down at the menu to hide his embarrassment. "Vesuvius? What the hell is a Vesuvius?" he asked, though his eyes scanned down the menu, searching for it.

"It's a type of pizza," you teased. "It's been like three minutes; have you not even skimmed the menu?"

Max fidgeted under your gaze, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks again. "What?" he asked with a nervous chuckle. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You tell me. Why are you staring?" Max shook his head, glancing up at you questioningly. He had no idea what you were thinking about. "No... What are you thinking about?" he asked, his curiosity getting the best of him.

"There are pots from 4000 years ago found in ancient Egypt that are made out of an incredibly difficult to manage material and are cut to such perfection that they balance on their round bottom."

Max's eyebrows shot up in surprise. He was expecting something totally different. Something that had at least a little bit to do with him. He chuckled, still somewhat surprised as he studied your face. "Where did that come from?" he asked incredulously.

"The Egyptians. They were like, cooking pots and stuff. Royal cooking pots probably, but still," you teased.

Max chuckled again, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're thinking about cooking pots, and here I am, just trying to figure out what I did to make you say that we're together so casually."

"What do you mean? Are we not together?"

"Well, of course we're together," Max said, his voice taking on a more serious tone now. He glanced around the restaurant briefly, making sure no one was listening in on their conversation. "I just... I didn't expect you to say it so casually," he said, his eyes meeting yours again.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't know we were keeping it a secret. I mean, I was at the paddock and all last time, and I took days off work to come to this race—"

Max shook his head, realizing you completely misunderstood what he was saying. "No, no, it's not that... I just..." he began, struggling to find the right words. He took a deep breath, his fingers fidgeting in his lap. "It's just... you're so casual about it... and I'm... a bit too flustered for my own good," he admitted, a tinge of embarrassment in his voice.

You softened up a bit. "Oh, okay, I get it. It was just a bit too shocking for you... Yeah, sorry."

Max felt his heartbeat a little faster when you softened, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Yeah, it was a bit... unexpected for me," he chuckled, feeling somewhat silly for being so flustered. "But it's fine, honestly."

"Do you think my stomach is gonna have space for gelato later? There's a really good gelateria; I can see it from the window... They make the ones with the macarons..."

Max chuckled, loving how you were so excited about the gelato. "Well, based on the amount of pizza you usually eat," he teased, a smirk on his face. "I'd say you're probably fine."

"No, they put the macarons on the gelato."

"On the gelato?" Max repeated, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

"I've never heard of such a thing," he said, leaning forward to get a better look out the window at the gelateria you were talking about. "Well, in that case," he said with a grin, "we're definitely going there for dessert."

After eating so much that your belts barely held, you came back to the hotel, Lenny greeting you at the door as usual. Max's stomach was stuffed to the brim, but he was in such a good mood from the good food and even better company, he didn't even care. He walked back into the hotel together with you, his hand still holding yours. Lenny greeted the two of you as usual, but Max couldn't help but notice the way Lenny looked at you, like he was analyzing you.

"All good, Len. You go to your room for the night," you said to Lenny. He nodded, smiled at the both of you, and then went off. Max watched as Lenny walked off, then turned to you, a small frown on his face.

"He was looking at you funny," he said, a protective edge to his voice.

"He thinks it's funny. That I'm dating a Formula 1 driver."

"What's so funny about that?" he protested, his grip on your hand tightening ever so slightly. "He just... I don't know, he's a big fan of yours I don't think he's processed it yet". Max's frown relaxed as you explained it, his ego immediately soothed a bit. Of course he was a big fan of his, who wasn't?

"Oh, so he's a big fan?" he teased, a hint of pride and cockiness in his voice.

You take your shoes off and lay on the bed, your stomach bloated from all the good food "Yeah. Talk to him a bit, I think it'll make him happy" You let out groan as you move "I hate you Italy. You has so much good food... I love it though"

Max chuckled, watching as you dramatically threw yourself onto the bed, your stomach protesting the amount of food you just had. "You're such a drama queen sometimes," he teased, grinning as he took off his shoes as well and joined you on the bed. He lays down beside you, running a hand over your bloated stomach. "You'll be fine," he said, though there was a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Oh, you know what I saw on TikTok?"

Max raised an eyebrow in curiosity, his hand now resting on your stomach. He didn't typically pay too much attention to TikTok, but he was more than happy to listen to you.

"What did you see?" he asked, turning his head to look at you.

"Well first of all, I'm a WAG now. Thank you for that, I will be putting that on my CV. But second, they liked that I was wearing Red Bull merch. I thought they wouldn't like it, but they did"

Max chuckled as you spoke, amused by how casually you mentioned being a WAG, and how seriously you were taking the fact that you were wearing Red Bull merchandise. "Well, of course they liked it," he said with a smirk. "You were wearing the merch of the best team out there."

He gave you a smug look, his hand moving up and tracing a lazy pattern on your stomach. "Not to mention the merch of the best driver out there."

OH MY GOD!!! this was aooo good... i looovvveeedd it💜💜

I Miss You

; MCU!Jungkook x Reader

; Word Count: 2.5k

; Genre: Angst, fluff

; Warnings: Mentions of death, alcoholism, pregnancy, grief

; Summary: In one moment, half of the world disappeared with a single snap of Thanos' fingers. Jeon Jungkook is one of those struggling to cope with the aftermath.

: A/N: Inspired, obviously by the Snap/Blip in the Marvel Cinematic Universe! I hope you enjoy it, I randomly got inspired to write it. All written on my phone, so please excuse formatting on errors! If you enjoyed...please reblof and leave a comment or an ask telling my why you liked it!

-

4 Years Ago 

"Hi...erm, my name i-is Jeon Jungkook. I'm here because…" He pauses, unable to get the words out. The memory is still so fresh in his mind, the pain just as strong as the moment it happened. Part of him wants to feel like he's experienced the worst thing in this room, but he knows he hasn't.

Still, it doesn't erase how much the incident hurt him.

"It's okay," The group leader, Jung Hoseok, reaches out and gently squeezes Jungkook's arm. "We all understand, take your time."

Swallowing hard, Jungkook nods tersely before taking a deep breath to centre himself.

"I'm here because my wife," His voice trembles despite how hard he's trying to compose himself. "My wife was taken in the Snap. And I'm not coping with it."

Finally, he let's the tears fall as the tsunami of grief washes over him.

-

3 Years Ago

"Hi, I'm Jeon Jungkook. Two years ago...m-my w-wife was part of the Snap. I'm still struggling with it though, I miss her do much." Jungkook looks down at his hands, the knuckles bruised from the intense round of boxing he'd done the other night.

Exercise had become his refuge over the past year, a way for him to work through his emotions and calm himself. The physical exertion of running or boxing or weightlifting left him so exhausted that it was easy to fall into a dreamless sleep each night.

It probably wasn't a healthy habit, but at least he was doing better than some of the others in this Snap Survivors meeting. He knew for a fact that Jimin had relapsed with his sobriety the other month, the second birthday of his now gone husband, Taehyung, too much to handle. Jungkook knew because he'd become friends with them all throughout the past year.

Or those who came frequently, anyway.

Still, the exercise might help the dreams stay away but it did nothing to stop the pain whenever he thought of you. Of what could have been.

"I think I'm doing better and then I'll look something and remember a memory with her. I wish she was here."

-

2 Years Ago

"Hey everyone, most of you already know me but my name is Jungkook. My wife died three years ago in the Snap. I wish I could say that I'm moving on, but it's really hard. The more time that's passed...the more angry I get, you know?" He looks around the room at the other people seated there, gazing into their eyes and taking stock or their emotions.

"It's hard," Hoseok says, his lips twisting as he probably remembers the moment he lost his daughter. "I think it takes an incredibly strong person to not be angry at some point, so I think you've done well to last three years before finally reaching the point of anger. You're obviously a saint."

That makes everyone in the circle chuckle, some of the sounds more dark than others. Jungkook takes a moment to not Jimin's reaction, frowning in concern for his friend.

The slip from last year had been just that, a slip. He'd managed to get back onto the straight and narrow with the help of his close friends, which now included Jungkook and some of the others from this group. But Jimin was the angriest out of all of them, the hole left by Taehyung a jagged wound that bled rage and grief with each breathe. Sometimes, Jungkook wondered if Jimin was going to be one of those lost souls who simply never recovered from his loss.

The dark bags under the older man's eyes and his almost frail stature made Jungkook's heart hurt. All he wanted to do was wrap Jimin up so the poor man could never be hurt again.

"Not a saint, definitely not that. But...it was hard to be angry at something I didn't even understand. And even now, who do I get angry at? The Avengers? What's the point, that's like being angry at the sky for rain. It's not going to do anything, it's not going to bring my wife back. Thanos is dead, half the Avengers are dead and half the world is dead. One man being angry won't change it, but sometimes I can't help it." Running his fingers through his hair, Jungkook wonders if those were the right words to say.

It appears to have annoyed Jimin though, or at least touched on an exposed nerve. He had a lot of them.

"We can be angry, we can be angry at Captain America for not trying harder. At Thor for missing the shot. They're fucking superheroes, they were meant to protect us. They were meant to protect him! And all they did was watch as half the world fucking disappeared before they vanished too. We can, and we should, be angry." Jimin spits the words, each syllable laced with venom so strong it could have probably pierced even the skin of Luke Cage.

"Jimin, this is not the place for anger. You know that, we're happy to ta-"

A hand in the air cuts Hoseok off and Jimin snorts in obvious irritation.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. 'We talk through the feelings, we don't shout them.' I get it," Pausing, he looks at Jungkook before wincing. "Sorry, I interrupted."

"It's okay. I kind of agree and kind of don't. I'm mostly angry at why it was her. But I won't ever get an answer, none of us will. I'm just...still trying to come to terms with that, I guess. It's not like a person dying normally. I never got to bury her, or get to say my goodbyes. She just...vanished. We don't even know if they're really dead…"

-

1 Year Ago

"Hi...I'm Jungkook. I thought I was doing well. It's been four years since my wife was Snapped, and I was doing good. I was starting to move on. It felt like it was time, you know? To let her go and...to move on with my life. It was hard, as I haven't dated anyone else since I was twenty-one but I tried. Dating apps and all that, it was a weird experience. I don't think I really liked it, but I was willing to try. I had a few dates that went nowhere...it still feels like I'm cheating on her." Licking his lips, he paused to take a deep drink of the glass of water he'd taken.

Looking around at everyone else, he wondered who would still be coming in five or even ten years time. Hoseok was probably never really going to get over the loss of his daughter, and Jungkook felt like Jimin needed a permanent watch. But the others might move on.

Some already had, their absence felt but not envied.

"What made you feel like this though? Like you aren't doing well anymore?" It's Hoseok who asks it, his role as the leader of the group well cemented by now. His kind eyes have a tiredness behind them and Jungkook wonders what he was like before this all happened.

For a moment, he doesn't respond. Fiddling with a loose string on his jeans, he struggles to get his thoughts into order so he doesn't become a babbling mess. Not that anyone would judge him for that here, but still.

"Well, firstly it just felt wrong. I don't think I'm ready to move on romantically yet. I couldn't even kiss the women I went on dates with, so I'm not going to force myself yet." He said honestly, his cheeks flushing just a hint at his open words.

There was no rebuke from his fellow members though, instead they all remained silent and simply nodded along. It gave him the confidence to continue, even though a part of him was already wilting.

"I stopped the whole dating thing, but that's not what made me feel like this. I was doing okay, you know? I can talk about her without wanting to cry and it just...it felt...I felt good. So I decided it was finally time to go through her things. I, erm, I hadn't touched them since the Snap. It felt like it was permanent if I touched them or threw them out, so they just stayed there. But I finally went through her stuff and-" It's here that Jungkook finally stops, his throat closing on him suddenly whilst his eyes burn with tears.

He doesn't notice the sudden frown from Hoseok and Jimin, or the others who he's known for years now. It's been so long since he's broken down in front of them and they must be surprised at this.

"I went through her desk. I never touched it, didn't...it wasn't right. And in her drawer, there was this card. I didn't know why it was in there, but it had my name on the envelope. So I opened it up...it was a congratulations card. Inside it...there was a pregnancy test. It's been so long that the result had disappeared...but she'd...there was a message." Jungkook starts to cry, his lips trembling as his voice cracks.

It takes one glance to see the others are crying as well, realising just how much he'd lost that day.

"She was pregnant, we were going to have a baby."

-

Now

"Hey, I won't be able to make it to the meeting this week. I've got to go to a dinner with my parents and they're refusing to take no for an answer." Holding the cellphone between his ear and shoulder, Jungkook tries to not make any loud noises as he unloads the dishwasher.

He doesn't succeed though as one plate clatters to the counter top, the sound jarringly loud and he winces at it.

"Shit, no need to deafen me!" Hoseok laughs, his tone just as warm and friendly as it always is. "And that's fine, it's probably good for you to take a break for us anyway. We're always doom and gloom."

'Nah, it's good to talk, right? I feel a lot better nowadays and we get to do fun shit when we're not there. I remember how much you sucked at mini golf the other week."

That gets an outraged sound from Hoseok, almost too loud through the tiny speaker next to his ear but it makes Jungkook snicker in amusement.

"Excuse you! We can't all be good at everything we try." He can literally imagine the little triangle pout on Hoseok's mouth right now, causing him to grin even more.

"I take it we're not remembering that time I tried to fish? And fell in the lake? I don't think that classes as being good. But anywa-"

"Jungkook?"

For a moment, he thinks his name has come from his phone and he frowns at how feminine Hoseok suddenly sounded. But then he realises it's from inside his own house.

Jerking around, he's about to do the very manly thing of screaming before his mind finally catches up the mental exclamation mark of recognition that had lit up at the voice. For a second, the world comes to a complete halt and he becomes simultaneously hyper aware of everything yet also ignorant of everything.

He doesn't notice his phone clattering to the ground, the screen cracking even more than it already was, nor does he notice the glass he'd dropped shattering on the ground. Jungkook's entire world tunnels, his hearing and mind turning to white noise as he tries to comprehend what's happening.

And then you say his name again, bringing the world back into focus.

"Y/N?" Your name slips from his mouth, the syllables rusty from disuse and tinged with more than a hint of disbelief. 

"Jungkook? What is going on? How has the house changed? How did you manage to move everything and why is your hair so long? What the fuck is going on?" Each word is so sweet to his ears, a melody he's ached to hear for five years now and yet something he'd accepted he would never hear again.

But here it is...and here you are.

"Y/N...you're here? This is real?" Jungkook doesn't even notice when he starts to cry, the tears following a pattern down his face that they've done many times over the years. But it's different this time.

"What...what are you-" Before you can say anything else, Jungkook is rushing over to you. His rubber soled house slippers crunch on the glass, ruining the soles but protecting his feet. He doesn't even notice, not when his trembling hands cup your face.

At the first touch of his fingertips to your soft skin, he bursts into heaving sobs of dual relief and agony. Five years of emotions comes bubbling to the surface, fighting for priority and he doesn't know what to feel.

He only gets a moment to recognise the bewildered look on your face before he's wrapping you in his arms, holding on so tightly. The feel of you against him, so warm and familiar yet foreign at the same time makes him cry even harder. You were here, you were back.

Jungkook's reaction must frighten you, and the combination of that and the obvious differences in both him and your environment in what was only seconds for you causes you to shiver in fear against him. Pressing your head to his chest, you try to comfort him even though you don't know what's wrong.

"Kook...what happened? What's wrong?" You ask softly, voice quivering as you try to take solace in his familiar body. But it's unfamiliar at the same time.

He's broader than before, his muscles more prominent and hair longer. A ring pierces one side of his mouth whilst two small balls are pierced into his brow and even more tattoos grace his arm. The changes are significant...and old.

"You're here, you're here. I missed you so much, oh my god, I missed you so much. I love you, I never stopped loving you, I found the card and I love our baby too, I swear." Jungkook rambles on, his hands stroking along your back almost like he's trying to imprint every line and curve into his mind whilst he cries, cheek pressing to your head.

You desperately want to know what happened, but you also recognise instinctively that your husband needs this. He needs to simply hold you, convince himself that you're here and not a figment of his imagination, so you wrap your arms around his waist and hug him back just as tightly.

'I'm here...I'm here, Jungkook. I love you too, it's okay. I'm here."

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

👀👀👀👀

Very unrealistic, but well… 😂😂😂😂

Mrs Norris (Oneshot)

Lando Norris x Verstappen!Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She was terrible. Hilariously, painfully terrible.

But she was hooked.

—

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

She texted Lando under the guise of checking in.

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

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

It made her want to destroy his time.

That night, she created a profile.

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

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

@Mrs.Norris

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

She definitely didn’t expect to get good.

—

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

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

The stream chat lost its collective mind.

Who TF is Mrs. Norris???

Actual alien pace.

Lando alt??

Plot twist: it’s Max Verstappen in disguise.

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

Then came the text from Lando.

Lando:

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

You:

Yep. And I beat them all.

Lando:

No. Shut up. You did not.

You:

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

—

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

He leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, smirking.

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

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

“Hi,” she said softly, suddenly shy.

He didn’t say anything.

Then he grinned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because if her dad ever found out?

He’d have her in one tomorrow.

BIRTH OF TWINS

DadLando Norris X Mom!fem!reader

Summary: To which Y/n goes into premature labor for the birth of the twins, however, Lando is at the airport returning home and fears that he will not make it in time.

Words: 5.9K+

Warnings: Mention of childbirth, complications of childbirth, twins, pain (??), a little distressing, cute, romantic and happy.

Author: English is not my first language, so apologies for any spelling, grammar and slang mistakes that may be in the story. This is part of a small universe, but can be read separately. ❤️🇧🇷

Universe Of NORRIS TWINS

MASTERLIST

There were still three weeks until the twins' expected delivery date, but Y/n had already been feeling light, training contractions for a few days. However, he didn't tell anyone, not even Lando, that he was about to catch a flight to a race and would be gone for four days.

"Are you sure you want me to go?" Lando asked, taking her hands in his.

"I do. I'll be fine. My mom and Cisca will stay with me." She smiled, trying to convey confidence.

Lando sighed and nodded, leaving a lingering kiss on her forehead before leaving.

Days passed and that morning, Y/n woke up feeling strange. The contractions seemed to be stronger, but they were still spaced out for hours. She decided to ignore it and went about her day as normal while Christy, her mother, and Cisca were at home helping her.

As the day went on, Y/n began to notice that the contractions were becoming more frequent and painful. A discomfort in her lower belly began to appear, and for the first time, she wondered if labor was starting. Still, I didn't want to alarm anyone.

As they talked in the living room, Y/n suddenly grimaced, holding her belly and leaning on the arm of the couch as a stronger contraction came.

"Y/n?" Christy called, worried.

She took a deep breath before looking up at her mother and Cisca.

"I think... I'm in labor."

The silence lasted for a second before Cisca hurriedly stood up.

"OMG, we need to go to the hospital!" She exclaimed, standing up.

"Calm down, Cisca." Christy placed a hand on her daughter's shoulder. "Are you sure, honey?"

Y/n nodded and carefully sat down on the couch.

"The contractions aren't regular yet, but... I've been feeling them for a few days."

Cisca's eyes widened. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN A FEW DAYS AGO?!"

Christy sighed, massaging her daughter's back. "Daughter, you should have told me sooner."

"I thought it was nothing..." Y/n muttered, biting her lip.

Cisca took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. "Then, let's go to the hospital now."

Y/n shook her head.

"Not yet. The doctor said we only need to go when the contractions get closer together."

Although reluctant, Christy and Cisca agreed to wait, but decided to monitor every detail. Christy took out her cell phone and began to time the contractions.

After a few minutes, Y/n looked at Cisca.

"Did Lando text? Is he coming back already?"

Cisca shook her head. "I haven't received anything yet, dear."

"Can you hand me your cell phone? It's over there on the counter." Cisca picked up the phone and handed it to her. "Thank you."

Christy continued to rub her back when Y/n unlocked her phone and saw that there were no messages from Lando. Her eyes burned and she placed the device aside, covering her face with her hands.

"I'm scared." Her voice was choked. "Lando should be here... the babies are too far along... I don't know if I can do it.

Cisca crouched down in front of her, holding her hand.

"You can do it, honey. You're strong. The babies might be a little early, but it'll be okay."

"Yes, you will." Christy reinforced, squeezing her daughter's arm. "Lando is coming, and you're not alone."

Y/n took a deep breath, running her hand over her stomach.

"Liam, Lola... stay calm, okay? Daddy's coming."

Cisca got up to get the maternity bags while Y/n tried to calm down.

An hour passed. The contractions had slowed down, but Y/n knew another one could come at any moment. Then, her phone lit up with a text from Lando.

'Honey, I'm boarding the jet now. In two hours I'll be home with you and the babies.

Y/n felt her heart tighten. Could she wait two hours for Lando to arrive?

She quickly responded.

'Lan...I'm in labor.'

He saw it at the same moment and, seconds later, the cell phone screen showed a video call.

When he answered, Lando appeared pale, walking quickly towards the jet.

"YOU'RE WHAT?!" He put his hands on his head, his voice filled with panic. "Oh my God, love, are you okay?! How are the babies?!"

Y/n tried to remain calm, but her voice still came out shaky.

"I... I'm fine. The contractions are still spaced out, but I think it's going to happen today."

Lando took a deep breath, trying to process.

"I'll be on time. I promise."

"Cisca and my mom are with me." Y/n turned the camera to show the two of them busy organizing their bags.

Lando shook his head.

"They need to take you to the hospital now."

"Not yet." Y/n replied. "The doctor said to go when the contractions get closer together."

"What if it speeds up all of a sudden? I don't want you having babies at home!"

"Lan, this wasn't supposed to happen for another three weeks. The babies can't come now, they need to stay a little longer." Her voice broke at the end, and a tear ran down her cheek.

Lando squeezed his eyes shut, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "Baby, it's going to be okay. I know it's early, but Liam and Lola are ready to come into the world. And I'm going to get there as soon as I can."

Y/n sniffed and nodded. "I wanted to wait for you..."

Lando closes his eyes for a moment, trying to remain calm, and says firmly: "Nothing will go wrong. You are strong, love. Liam and Lola have the best mommy in the world. I'm going as fast as I can, and if they decide to come before... then I trust that you will bring them into the world in the best way."

Y/n runs her hand over her belly and smiles with tears in her eyes. "Did you hear that, babies? Daddy's coming. But how about we wait for him?"

Lando smiles on the other side of the screen, visibly moved. He is about to say something else, but the call starts to fail. Yin realizes that the plane is taking off.

"I love you. I love you. I love you..." Lando repeats over and over, wanting Y/n to hear his words before the screen freezes and the call drops.

Y/n sighs deeply, holding her cell phone against her chest. Cisca places the delivery bag at the door, aware that the moment had arrived.

A new contraction arrives, more intense than before. Y/n lets out a moan and tears stream down her face, but this time it wasn't just from the pain-it was from fear. Christy quickly approaches, holding her hand tightly.

"Shh, my love... I'm here. It's going to be okay. You're strong, and I know you can do it."

Y/n lets out a sob, trying to control her breathing. "I want to go to the hospital. The pain is too much, mom... something is wrong."

Christy and Cisca exchange a worried look before nodding. Cisca grabs the bags while Christy helps Y/n to stand up carefully. Little by little, they leave the house, and Y/n leans on her mother, feeling another strong tightening in her belly. Lando's mother grabs the keys and locks the door, already sending a message to Y/n's doctor.

On the way to the car, Y/n cries softly, holding her mother's arm. "I thought we would have more time..." She murmurs, her voice breaking with emotion.

Christy runs her hand through her daughter's hair lovingly. "You've waited long enough, my love. Now it's time to meet your babies."

Cisca smiles as she gets into the car and looks in the rearview mirror. "I think Liam and Lola just want to meet their mommy, who they already love so much."

Y/n lets out a little laugh through her tears, feeling her heart warm with those words.

The drive to the hospital is long. Traffic is bad, the lights seem to take forever to change, and with each contraction, Christy holds Y/n's hand and helps her breathe. Cisca drives as fast as she can, trying to stay calm, but the worried look in the rearview mirror gives her away.

As soon as the car parks in front of the hospital, a nurse is already waiting for them with a wheelchair. Christy and Cisca rush out - one opens the door for Y/n, while the other grabs the bags.

Y/n hesitates for a moment before sitting down in the chair, holding her belly. "Lando isn't here yet..." She murmurs, concern evident in her voice.

Christy squeezes his hand. "He's coming, my love. But right now we need to focus on you and the babies."

"Honey, do you know how long there is between contractions?" The nurse asks.

Y/n responds with a shaky sigh. "They were an hour apart... but now they're closer."

When they enter the hospital, Y/n is taken straight to a room. Christy holds his hand until they have to part momentarily.

"I'll make your entrance, dear. Cisca will stay with you until I get back."

Cisca nods in agreement and smiles at Y/n.

In the room, the doctor who monitored the pregnancy performs some tests while the nurse checks Y/n's dilation.

"Three centimeters," the nurse says. "It's still too early to push. It may take a few hours to reach the ten centimeters needed for delivery."

Y/n lets out a shaky breath, looking at the doctor. "There are still three weeks until they are born..."

The doctor nods with an understanding look. "Yes, ideally they would stay a little longer, but twin pregnancies tend to come early. You were already receiving corticosteroids to help the babies' lungs mature, and we'll give them another dose now to make sure they're born strong."

Y/n nods, feeling a little more relieved. Closing her eyes for a moment, she tries to relax. Cisca sits next to her, holding her hand.

Shortly after, the nurse arrives with the medicine and applies it to Y/n, who takes a deep breath.

The nurse smiles at her before leaving. "You're doing great. If you need anything, just call."

And then, Christy returns to the room. "Okay, I've already checked you in and told Lando that we're here. I also sent a message to your father, and told him not to worry, that we're with you."

Y/n smiles, grateful. "Thank you, mom."

Christy strokes her arm. "Always, my daughter."

Cisca stands up. "I'll tell the Norrises too. I'll be right back."

"Thank you, Cisca." Christy smiles. "I'll take care of our grandchildren."

Cisca laughs. "Needless to say, you've already started."

Y/n lets out a weak laugh, feeling calmer.

Christy sits next to her, holding her hand and looking into her daughter's eyes. Now so grown up, a strong woman, married and about to have babies of her own.

"My love, I still remember the day I held you in my arms for the first time. You were so tiny... and now here you are, about to bring your own babies into the world." Y/n smiles weakly, still feeling the anxiety. Christy squeezes her hand tighter. "I always knew you would be an amazing mother. You have so much love in your heart, Y/n. Liam and Lola are so lucky to have you."

Y/n's eyes water. "What if I'm not strong enough?"

Christy runs her hand through her hair, her voice firm but full of affection. "You're already strong. You've been through so much, and look where you are. You've created a beautiful family, found someone who truly loves you, and now you're bringing these two little miracles into this world." Y/n closes her eyes, feeling a few tears fall. Christy wipes them away gently. "I'm so proud of you, my love. You've always been my brave little girl."

Y/n looks at her mother with emotion, her voice coming out as a whisper: "Thank you for being here... I couldn't do it without you."

Christy smiles and kisses his forehead. "I always will be, my love. Always."

And then a cell phone beeps inside the bag, Christy gets up and reaches for the cell phone inside and sees that it was from Y/n, smiling when she sees the screen lit up.

"It's a message from Lando," he said, handing the device to his daughter.

Y/n quickly unlocked her phone and opened the conversation.

Love❤️: "We're landing in 30 minutes. Are you at the hospital yet? I'll be right there!"

She smiled, feeling immediate relief at knowing he was so close. With slightly trembling fingers, she typed a reply.

Y/n: "Yes, I'm already at the hospital. The contractions are still bearable, so there's no need to run like crazy. Drive calmly, love."

Love❤️: "You know me, right? Running is part of my DNA. But I promise I'll arrive in one piece. I love you!"

Y/n: "I love you more. We're waiting for you, daddy."

After sending the message, he sighed deeply, closing his eyes for a moment and placing his hand on his stomach.

"Lando will be here in a few minutes," he said, his voice still thick with emotion.

Christy smiled, leaning forward and placing a loving kiss on her daughter's forehead. "So now you can relax a little. He's on his way, and soon you'll be together to meet these two little angels."

Before Y/n could respond, Cisca entered the room with an amused smile, holding her cell phone in her hand.

"I just told Adam and Lando's brothers. I think their reaction was even more intense than ours." He said with a laugh. "You should have seen the messages, it looked like they were freaking out!"

Y/n chuckled softly. "I expect no less from the Norris family." She commented, amused by the image in her mind of her desperate brothers-in-law.

"Flo, Cisca and Oliver's wife also sent their support to you," Cisca added, sitting down in the armchair next to the bed. "By the way! Flo already asked me to deliver flowers here for you!"

Y/n smiled, feeling their affection. "Tell them I appreciate it. And that they'll soon meet Liam and Lola."

Time passed and the contractions began to get closer together, but the dilation was still low. The doctor returned to the room to check the babies' heartbeats while the nurse performed some tests on Y/n.

Taking a deep breath, she looked at the monitor, listening carefully to the two little hearts beating loudly.

"They're both strong," the doctor said with a smile. "And look at their fast heartbeats. It's like they're ready to run."

Y/n chuckled softly. "Well, they're Lando's kids. And he's not exactly the epitome of calm."

The doctor laughed along. "That explains a lot."

The room was prepared for the arrival of the babies. In the corner, there were pink and blue balloons, some welcome cards and flowers sent to Y/n. Two large teddy bears were placed side by side, each with a name embroidered on the belly Lola and Liam. A gift from Y/n's father.

There was a knock on the door and Christy got up to answer it. When she opened it, a smile lit up her face. "Look who's here!!"

Y/n turned her head immediately, feeling tears well up in her eyes as she saw Lando standing in the doorway, holding a bouquet of flowers.

"You did it..." She murmured, sighing in relief.

Lando smiled and walked over to the bed, leaning down to kiss her forehead before looking into his wife's eyes.

"I told you I wouldn't miss this for anything." He handed her the bouquet and smiled. "To my strongest, most amazing girl. I love you more than I can put into words."

Y/n smiled and a few tears fell from her eyes, holding the flowers lovingly. "Thank you, love. I love you sooo much."

Lando then bent down to get closer to her belly, running his hand over her skin with an enchanted look.

"And you two, huh? You didn't even want to wait for daddy to get here." He joked. "But now everything is fine. Daddy came to help mommy, so you can rest easy." He looked up and only then noticed Christy and Cisca watching the scene with smiles on their faces. "Ah... I hadn't even seen you there." He said, laughing.

Christy laughed. "Don't worry, dear. We didn't mean to interrupt the moment."

Lando walked around the bed and hugged first his mother-in-law, then his mother. "Thank you for taking care of her and the babies."

"No need to thank me, Lan. We wouldn't leave her side for anything." Cisca said fondly.

"And now that you're here, let's leave you two to enjoy this moment." Christy added. She held Y/n's hand once more. "If you need anything, I'll be downstairs, my love."

"Thank you, Mom."

Christy smiled, kissing her daughter's forehead. "You're amazing, Y/n. Everything will be okay."

As soon as the two left the room, Lando turned his attention to his wife. But before he could say anything, he felt Y/n squeeze his hand tightly.

"One more..." She mumbled, closing her eyes as the contraction came.

Lando immediately grabbed her hand with both of his. "I'm here, love. Take a deep breath, this will pass. You're doing great."

Time passed and, with each contraction, Lando remained by her side, holding her hand, whispering sweet words and encouraging her. He felt her fingers tightening around his with increasing force, but he did not complain. Her pain was greater than anything he could feel.

And then the nurse came in again and smiled at Y/n. "I'm going to check your dilation, okay?"

Y/n nodded, taking a deep breath as a few tears ran down her face.

After examining her, the nurse smiled. "We are fully dilated. It's time to bring the babies into the world."

Y/n's heart raced. As the nurse began to prepare the room and equipment, she looked at Lando with wide eyes.

"I don't know if I can... I'm in a lot of pain, and it feels like there's something wrong with one of the babies."

Lando cupped her face in his hands and looked into her eyes, "Hey, nothing's wrong. They're okay, love. You can do it. I'm here for you."

The doctor entered the room with an excited smile.

"The time has come! Let's meet these little champions."

Y/n smiled nervously. "It seems so..."

As the equipment was sterilized and everything was prepared, Lando noticed that Y/n was watching everything with a frightened look.

He held her hand and called softly, "Love, lean forward a little."

"Why?" She asked, frowning but doing as he asked.

Lando smiled and swung a leg over to the other side of the bed, positioning himself behind her. "I'm making sure my first love is comfortable to bring my other loves into the world."

He hugged her from behind, holding her hand and kissing the top of her head, which was slightly wet with sweat. Y/n closed her eyes for a moment, feeling safer in his arms.

The nurse put on gloves and smiled.

"Come on, Y/n. When the next contraction comes, I want you to push as hard as you can."

Y/n took a deep breath, nodding.

The contraction came hard, making Y/n lean forward a little. Lando ran his hand over her back in a light, comforting caress, while holding her other hand firmly. She took a deep breath and began to push, trying to help Lola be born.

But pain, fear and fatigue quickly mixed together. Her breathing became ragged, and the contraction began to ease without her being able to finish the effort.

"I... I can't do it..." Her voice came out shaky, choked with tears that were building up. "I'm scared..."

Y/n laid her head on Lando's shoulder, tears streaming silently as her body shook with exertion.

The nurse gave her a gentle look, trying to calm her down. "You're doing great, honey. Just a little longer, we need to wait for the next contraction, okay?"

Meanwhile, the doctor monitored the babies through the ultrasound, paying attention to their heartbeats. Minutes passed, and then the new contraction arrived. Y/n took a deep breath and pushed again.

"That's it, Y/n, you can do it!" The nurse encouraged.

Lando leaned in close, whispering sweet nothings in her ear. "You're doing so well, love... our little girl is almost here."

But suddenly, the nurse frowned and looked at the doctor before muttering, "WAIT a moment, something's wrong..."

"What's wrong?" Y/n, panting, opened her eyes in fright.

Lando felt her hand grip tightly and tensed. "What's going on?"

The nurse manually examined the baby's position while the doctor kept his gaze fixed on the ultrasound screen.

"The umbilical cord is wrapped around Lola's neck. This is making it difficult for her to come out because the oxygen flow to her lungs is compromised. She is getting weak." The nurse explains.

Y/n's face drained of color. Her eyes instantly filled with tears, and her breathing became faster and more irregular. She squeezed Lando's hand tightly.

"She... she'll be okay, right?" Her voice came out in a shaky whisper.

Lando swallowed, feeling his heart hammer in his chest, but he kept calm for her. He kissed the side of her head and murmured, "Baby, trust them... Lola will be fine, I promise."

The doctor sighed and looked at the team. "We can't continue with a natural birth. We need to act quickly before her oxygen saturation drops any further."

He quickly left to call the OR team, reserving a room for the emergency C-section. The nurse began to organize the room and prepare Y/n.

Lando got up from the bed to stand beside her while the nurses adjusted the IV and monitors on her. The nurse explained everything calmly, but Y/n was already crying, distressed.

"Why is this happening? I was trying! Did I do something wrong?" She sobbed, turning her face to Lando.

He cupped her cheeks in his hands, resting his forehead against hers. "Hey, hey... this isn't your fault. You did everything right, my love."

"But I wanted to do this for them..." She whispered, her eyes filled with pain.

"And you still will, Y/n. You'll still bring our babies into the world, just in a slightly different way. What matters is that you're okay."

The door opened, and nurses came in with the gurney to take her to the operating room. Lando had to let go of her hand for a moment as they moved her, and the tightness in his chest grew when he saw the frightened look on her face.

"Lando..." Y/n called in a tearful voice, extending her hand.

He quickly grabbed hers and followed her as they pushed the stretcher out of the room. The nurse noticed Y/n's desperation and turned to Lando.

"You can come into the room and watch the birth if you want."

Y/n looked at him, eyes shining with tears.

"I'm going in, I just need to let our family downstairs know, okay?"

The nurse nodded. "We'll be heading up to the surgical floor, tenth floor. When you arrive, look for me at the nurses' desk, my name is Izzie."

Lando nodded and kissed Y/n's forehead as they entered the elevator.

"I'll be quick, I promise. I'll be there in minutes." Y/n nodded, but she was still nervous. "Soon, we'll be holding our babies."

She smiled weakly. "And you're going to be an amazing daddy."

"We already are. We'll just make it official in a little while." He chuckled softly.

The elevator doors closed, and Lando blew a kiss into the air before rushing out to tell his family downstairs.

Meanwhile, Y/n was wheeled into the operating room and prepped. The doctors explained the procedure, assuring her that they would pay special attention to the babies. They put the surgical cap on her and monitored her vital signs.

Sitting on the stretcher, Y/n listened to a nurse explaining: "We're going to apply spinal anesthesia, which will block the pain from the waist down. You'll feel touches and pressure, but no pain, okay?"

She nodded, but her breathing was fast. She looked around, missing Lando.

Before she could say anything, the door opened. Nurse Izzie walked in, bringing Lando with her. He was wearing a surgical cap and putting the mask on his face, smiling at Y/n.

"You came back quickly..." She sighed in relief.

Lando stepped closer, holding her hand. "And miss this moment? Not even if I were in another country."

She smiled at him, feeling immediate comfort.

The anesthesiologist came over. "I'm going to give you the anesthesia now, okay?"

Y/n nodded, squeezing Lando's hand a little tighter. Once they had applied the anesthesia to Y/n's back, they carefully laid her down on the stretcher, with the surgical field positioned so that she couldn't see the procedure.

"Now we're going to start the incision. You may feel some pressure, but no pain. If you feel anything different, let us know, okay?" The doctor explains some steps.

Lando squeezed her hand gently. "It's going to be okay, love. Lola and Liam will be with us soon." Y/n looked at him, feeling stronger with those words. "You've been so strong all these months... and you're going to be an amazing mommy now."

She smiled at him excitedly. "And you're going to be the best daddy."

The procedure began with precision and speed. Lando kept his attention divided between the surgery and Y/n, observing every detail with a mixture of fascination and anxiety. The environment around him was controlled, but the tension was inevitable. He watched the doctors and nurses working in a coordinated manner, monitors emitting rhythmic sounds, surgical instruments gleaming under the bright lights.

Time seemed to drag on until the doctor announced that they were about to take Lola out. Lando immediately looked at Y/n, and the two exchanged a smile filled with emotion and pride.

"Our first baby is coming, love." He whispered, squeezing her hand affectionately.

Y/n smiled back, her chest filling with anticipation. A few seconds passed, and then she realized that Lola had already been born, but something was wrong. Silence hung over the room. The cry she had been waiting for never came.

"Why isn't she crying?" Y/n's voice was shaky, her eyes filling with dread. "Why is our Lola so quiet?" She turned her head to Lando, searching for some answer.

Lando felt his stomach churn, fear seeping into every cell of his body. "What's going on?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady, but his tone held an undeniable urgency.

One of the nurses quickly took Lola to the next resuscitation table, while another began suctioning her airway. The pediatrician, keeping his tone calm and firm, explained, “She was without oxygen for a while, but we’re managing it.”

Y/n's eyes filled with tears. She tried to move, but Lando grabbed her hand, bringing her back to him. "Baby, calm down... they're taking care of her. She'll be fine."

The doctor looked at Y/n with concern. "We need to keep going. Liam is almost here, but we need you to stay calm so your heart rate doesn't increase too much, okay?"

Y/n closed her eyes, sobbing softly, while Lando stroked her hair, trying to comfort her.

The seconds felt like an eternity. The silence in the room was piercing. Y/n's heart was pounding, insecurity suffocating her. Lando tried to stay strong for her, but the fear of losing his daughter made him restless.

Then, a low, hoarse cry filled the room. Everyone in the room smiled, and Y/n sobbed in relief, letting out a tearful laugh.

"There you go!" The nurse smiled, looking at the couple. "I just needed a little help."

Lando sighed, running his hand over his wife's still sweaty forehead. "Our little one is already causing drama."

Y/n let out a weak laugh through her tears.

The doctor smiled at the comment and then focused again. "Liam is almost here."

"I hope this one is calmer than his sister." Lando looks at his wife, smiling.

Y/n smiled, feeling a weight lift off her shoulders. Now that she knew Lola was okay, she could breathe a little easier.

Seconds later, Liam was born, and a loud, characterful cry echoed through the room.

Y/n closed her eyes, smiling. Her babies were fine. She was fine.

"This one came in already making a fuss." Lando laughed, looking at his son over the surgical field, still holding his wife's hand.

"That's how I like it." Y/n replied, smiling weakly.

As the doctors finished the procedure, the nurses examined and cleaned the babies. One of them came over with Lola in her arms and smiled at the parents.

"Do you want to meet your little girl?"

Y/n, still lying down, turned her head and saw the nurse approaching with her little girl. Her eyes filled with tears of happiness when she saw her healthy, breathing and extremely cute daughter there.

"Hi, my love... mommy's here." She whispered, touching the baby's delicate cheek.

Lando came closer and smiled, completely enchanted. "Hi, little princess. You gave us a scare, huh?" He gently caressed Lola's cheek. "But I can see that you're going to be just like mommy... you like to keep everyone on their toes.

Y/n laughed softly, still emotional. But her maternal concern soon surfaced.

"Why is she so small?"

The nurse smiled reassuringly. "This is normal for twin pregnancies. The babies share nutrients in the womb, so they are usually smaller at birth. But she is fine, strong and healthy."

The explanation calmed Y/n, and she nodded, looking at her daughter tenderly again.

A few seconds later, the other nurse arrived with Liam in her arms and approached the other side of the stretcher, near Lando.

"Hey, champ..." Lando murmured, completely enchanted by his son.

Yin smiled, touching his cheek affectionately. "My love, look at you! So beautiful and strong!"

Liam shifted in the blankets, seemingly searching for his mother's voice, which made Y/n and Lando chuckle softly.

"They're perfect..." Y/n whispered, watching the two babies with her heart overflowing with love.

"Just like you." Lando replied, kissing her forehead affectionately.

The nurse smiled at the couple, holding one of the babies gently. "We're going to take them for some tests and monitoring while you rest, Mommy. Just in case."

Y/n blinked a few times, still feeling slightly drowsy from the anesthesia. "Will they need to stay in the neonatal unit?"

"We will evaluate, but apparently it won't be necessary. Just one night for observation."

Relief washed over her, and she nodded with a small smile. Watching them be taken away was strange—a tightness in her chest that only eased when she felt Lando's warm hand clasp hers.

"You can go with them, love." She looks at Lando, already feeling very drowsy from the anesthesia.

Lando smiled, his eyes soft and full of affection. "I know... But first, I need to make sure my first love is okay."

He brought her hand to his lips and placed a kiss there. And then he stood by her side throughout the rest of the procedure and when they took her away for observation.

••••••••••••••••••••••••

It was almost dawn when Y/n insisted on going to see them. Recovery from the anesthesia had been slow, and painkillers helped ease the pain, but the need to be with her children was greater than any discomfort.

With the help of a wheelchair and, of course, Lando, she finally made it to the pediatric ward.

Lando was different. Even with the dark circles under his eyes and the obvious tiredness, there was something about him that wasn't there before. A sparkle in his eyes, a smile that seemed impossible to contain. He looked at Yin as if he were seeing the love of his life transform before his eyes because that was exactly what was happening. She wasn't just his woman, his wife. Now, she was the mother of his children.

She held Liam in her arms, studying every little detail of the baby. He had delicate features, but the same way as Lando. His little nose, the shape of his lips, his serene expression. Everything she loved about her husband was there, condensed in that little boy who slept peacefully against her chest.

On the other side, Lando walked slowly, cradling Lola in his arms. The baby was so small that she seemed to get lost in the soft blankets they had bought for her. But her eyes were open, fixed on him, as if she already knew exactly who this man was who was holding her with so much love.

"You already know I'm your daddy, don't you, little princess?" He murmured, rocking her lightly. "I know I'm very handsome, hard to look away from."

Y/n chuckled softly, watching the scene with a smile.

"But don't get used to it, okay? You and your mom already boss me around too much, soon Liam will want to give orders too. I'll have to move to the garage." Lola just winked at him, and Lando let out a laugh. "Oh, so that's how it is? Are you going to pretend you don't understand?" He nuzzled her little face. "It's okay, I know you already love me."

The atmosphere was peaceful, with other babies nearby and a few parents sitting in the armchairs around them. The low sound of conversation and the occasional cry made the moment even more special.

Then a nurse approached with a warm smile. "There are visitors for the babies."

Y/n looked up and her heart sank as she saw, on the other side of the large glass window, the most important people in her life.

Cisca held Adam's arm, her eyes filled with tears of happiness. Y/n's father wore a proud smile, while her mother looked ready to cry. Flo, on the other hand, was restless, anxious to see her nephews.

Lando helped Y/n get up and walk to the window, with extreme care, he turned Lola in his arms so that everyone could see her. The little girl was sleeping peacefully now, surrendered to sleep, a pacifier in her mouth, which seemed almost bigger than her.

Flo smiled and spoke loudly for them to hear. "My God, that pacifier is bigger than her face!"

Lando laughed. "That's the cutest thing!!"

Christy and Cisca put their hands to their chests, completely enchanted. Y/n arranged Liam in her arms and lifted him slightly so they could see him. Her father's eyes lit up and he let out a laugh.

"He's all Lando!"

Cisca and Adam agreed, laughing. "Just like Lando when he was born!"

Y/n felt her eyes water, her heart aching at having her whole family there, even separated by glass. The squeeze of Lando's hand in hers brought her back. "They are already so loved."

She nodded, smiling excitedly. "From the first second."

Lando and Y/n exchanged a look before turning their attention back to the family.

"In a few days, you'll be able to hold them." Y/n said loud enough for them to hear.

"I can already imagine spoiling these two to the limit!" Cisca smiled.

Christy looked at her daughter, her eyes shining with pride. "You were amazing, my girl. They are perfect."

Y/n listened and smiled, feeling her heart overflow with happiness.

Lando was still talking to his family about Lola, but his attention turned to Y/n when he noticed the way she looked at the babies. Completely in love, radiant, exhausted, but happy in a way he had never seen before.

He bent down a little and touched her cheek affectionately.

"I love you, Mama Norris."

Y/n smiled, feeling her eyes fill with tears again.

"I love you more, Daddy Norris."

Lando chuckled softly, resting his forehead against hers.

Masterlist

(F)=Fluff , (N)=gender neutral

BTS

Kim Namjoon

Thunderstorms (F) (N)

Min Yoongi

Love is in the Studio (F)

Jung Hoseok

Warmth (F)

For Her - Lando Norris x Reader

summary: She came to support him. Instead, she was met with hate and a paddock full of people who acted like she didn’t exist. But if there was one thing about Lando Norris, it was that he loved out loud (3.2k words)

content: protective boyfriend, public relationship, public displays of affection, romantic grand gesture

AN: happy new season guys!!! what a race, I hope china will be kinder with my heart :') here's another fic for our race winner! muah <3

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

The first race of the season should have been magical.

It should have been the kind of morning you’d always imagined—walking through the paddock with the giddy excitement of someone witnessing greatness up close, feeling the electricity in the air, the intoxicating mix of tire smoke, adrenaline, and champagne already waiting for its moment in the podium spray. You had thought of how proud you would feel watching Lando, how thrilling it would be to see him in his element, how belonging you might feel in a world that, until now, had existed for you in stories and through screens.

You had not imagined being denied entry.

"Miss, I’m going to have to ask you to step back."

The security guard barely spared you a glance, already moving on to the next person in line, his voice impassive, as if he had done this a hundred times before and you were simply another face in a sea of hopeful girls who had tried to talk their way into the paddock.

You gripped your lanyard a little tighter, your heart skipping slightly. "I have a pass," you said, voice gentle but firm as you lifted it to eye level, the McLaren logo glinting in the sunlight.

The guard exhaled sharply through his nose, unimpressed. "We've had a lot of fans trying to sneak in today. If you don’t have the right accreditation, I can’t let you through."

Your stomach twisted.

"I do have the right accreditation," you tried again, as kindly as possible, despite the heat creeping up your neck. "I’m with McLaren. My boyfriend-"

"Yeah, that’s what they all say."

The words were clipped, dismissive, and spoken with the kind of flat finality that suggested he had already decided you were lying.

Embarrassment coiled in your chest, wrapping itself around your lungs, making it suddenly difficult to breathe.

You stood there, cheeks burning, as people brushed past you, throwing curious glances your way. The seconds stretched endlessly, each one more excruciating than the last.

It wasn’t until a McLaren staff member recognized you—"Oh, she’s with Lando," they had said offhandedly—that the security guard finally stepped aside, not bothering with so much as an apology.

By the time you walked through the gates, the joy you had carried that morning had dulled into something smaller, something fragile.

And then, somehow, it got worse.

...

The McLaren motorhome stood like a beacon in the paddock, its sleek glass windows reflecting the bustle of team personnel moving inside. You exhaled slowly, shaking off the earlier embarrassment, and made your way toward the hospitality lounge, longing for something warm and familiar.

A latte, perhaps. Something to reset the day.

You stepped up to the hospitality counter with a practiced sort of grace, the kind that had been instilled in you from your childhood—shoulders back, chin lifted, a polite smile even when you wanted to disappear.

The woman behind the counter was stunning in a sharp, effortless way, her McLaren uniform crisp, her dark eyes shrewd, assessing. She barely looked up when you stepped forward.

"Good morning," you greeted, your voice light, pleasant. "Could I get an oat latte, please?"

The woman’s gaze flicked to you then, sweeping over you in a way that wasn’t unkind but wasn’t exactly warm, either.

"Are you with media?" she asked, already sounding bored.

You shook your head, still polite. "No, I’m—"

"Hospitality is for team guests only," she interrupted, her words clipped, a polite but unmistakable dismissal.

There was something about the way she said it, the way her lips curled just slightly, that sent something sharp down your spine.

You held up your accreditation again, your expression kind but unwavering. "I am a team guest. It is my first race though! I'm with Lando."

A pause. A flicker of something in her gaze.

And then, a small, almost imperceptible smirk.

"Ah," she said slowly, like she was only just now realizing. "Of course you are."

There was something else behind her tone, something you recognized.

You had met people like her before, in glittering lobbies, at perfectly curated events, in spaces where perception was everything. People who measured others in careful glances and quiet, ruthless judgments.

The woman tilted her head, her smile suddenly saccharine. "I’m afraid we’re only serving certain guests at the moment."

The words landed with the soft cruelty of a velvet dagger.

She wasn’t saying no outright.

She was refusing you while pretending it was about something else entirely.

You stared at her for a moment, your fingers tightening slightly over the strap of your bag.

You could have fought. Could have pointed out that this was ridiculous, that you had every right to be here, that her behavior was as transparent as it was petty.

But instead, you simply let out a soft breath and smiled.

Not the kind of smile that was warm and grateful.

The kind of smile that veiled the frustration you were feeling.

"No worries," you said gently, dipping your head, your voice smooth, graceful. "I wouldn’t want to trouble you."

And with that, you turned and walked away, back straight, head held high, because if nothing else—you were not the kind of woman who begged.

But it still stung.

...

The hotel room is quiet except for the faint murmur of the city outside. The occasional car hums past beneath the window, the distant noises of Melbourne nightlife drifting in through the small gap in the balcony door. Inside, the glow from the bedside lamp casts soft golden light over the pristine sheets, the half-finished cup of tea you abandoned hours ago, and your phone—face-down, untouched, deliberately ignored.

You had set it aside like it burned you.

And in a way, it had.

You don’t need to look at the screen to know what’s waiting for you there.

A photo. You, walking alone through the paddock, caught at an unflattering angle—your hands adjusting the strap of your bag, your gaze flicking off to the side. Out of context, impersonal, just another frame in someone else’s story.

But the caption beneath it?

That made it personal.

The caption beneath it, however, was anything but subtle.

"Classic gold digger. No personality, no job, just another wag looking for a paycheck."

The replies were worse.

"She looks so full of herself. I bet she spends his money like crazy."

"Lando deserves better. She looks disgusting."

"Does she even like racing or just his wallet?"

You had expected something like this eventually. Being seen always came at a cost.

But expectation doesn’t soften the blow.

It doesn’t make the words less sharp. It doesn’t stop them from settling in the quiet places of your mind, the ones that whisper in the dark when the world is still.

You exhale slowly, smoothing your hand over the sheets, willing away the tightness in your throat.

It’s fine.

You were raised to handle things like this with grace, with an understanding that women who stand beside successful men are often reduced to spectators, accessories, footnotes in their own stories.

You know who you are. You know your worth.

And yet, knowing doesn’t stop the sting.

A keycard beeps at the door.

Then, the soft sound of it swinging open, of footsteps—light, easy, carrying a kind of restless energy even now.

"Hi, darling," Lando’s voice fills the space before he does.

You don’t turn immediately, letting yourself blink once, twice, composing yourself in the quiet before offering a small smile as he steps inside.

He looks effortlessly disheveled—his hair still damp from the rain outside, his McLaren polo slightly untucked, the fabric creased like he’d run a hand over it one too many times.

He is still buzzing—from the high of the weekend, from the thrill of being back in the car, from the sheer joy of doing what he loves.

And then he looks at you.

And everything shifts.

His grin falters. His brows pull together.

"Hey," he says again, but softer this time, slower. "What’s wrong?"

You hesitate, fingers brushing against the sheets. "It’s nothing."

Lando stills.

"You’re upset."

It’s not a question.

You exhale, tilting your head slightly, lips curving in something almost amused. "No big deal, this is your weekend."

But Lando doesn’t smile.

Instead, he moves—crossing the room in three long strides, sinking down in front of you, his hands warm against your thighs, his gaze level, intent.

"Tell me," he says, quiet but firm.

All day, you have been ignored, dismissed, treated like an inconvenience. And yet, here he is, giving you his undivided attention, his entire world narrowing down to this moment, to you.

You hesitate. Then, finally, you murmur, "People weren’t exactly kind today."

His grip on your legs tightens just slightly.

"Security thought I was a fan trying to sneak in. Hospitality wouldn’t serve me." You let out a small, humorless laugh, shaking your head. "And now there’s a photo of me online. People saying I’m a disgusting gold digger."

Lando doesn’t move.

Doesn’t even breathe.

Then, slowly, he reaches for your phone, flipping it over with careful precision before scrolling. He doesn’t need you to guide him—he finds it immediately.

His jaw tightens.

And then, in a tone so low and steady that it makes your stomach flip:

"Are you joking?"

You open your mouth, but he’s already shaking his head, pushing himself up, pacing now, running a hand through his curls.

"Such bullshit," he starts, turning sharply, voice too controlled, too even, "that after everything—after how much effort you’ve put into being here, after how much of your life you’ve adjusted for me—these people had the nerve to treat you like that?"

You shift under his gaze, biting your lip. "Lando, it’s not—"

"No, no, hold on," he interrupts, hands in the air like he needs a second to process. He lets out a short, disbelieving laugh, but there’s nothing amused about it.

"Because from where I’m standing, you’re the easiest person to love in any room, and I genuinely don’t understand how anyone could be that dense."

He exhales sharply, shaking his head, jaw tight. "Honestly, I don’t even know whether to be pissed or impressed by their level of dickheadness."

He stops, inhales sharply, then turns back to you.

"Tomorrow," he says, voice steady now, decisive. "We fix this."

You raise a brow. "We?"

Lando tilts his head, giving you a look like you have just asked if the sky is blue.

"Obviously."

...

There are very few things in life that can silence an entire paddock.

Lando Norris walking in hand-in-hand with you is apparently one of them.

The usual morning commotion—the hurried strides of engineers, the murmured strategy discussions, the distant hum of espresso machines—all of it seems to slow, the air shifting as one by one, heads turn.

Eyes follow you as you move through the paddock, curiosity crackling in the air like static before a storm.Conversations taper off, whispers trailing in your wake, phones discreetly lifted, cameras capturing the moment in real time.

Lando, of course, is unbothered.

If anything, he thrives under the weight of their attention. His grip on your hand remains firm, steady, unwavering, his strides unhurried, his smirk bordering on self-satisfied.

He wants them to see.

It’s deliberate—the way he holds you close, the way his fingers brush over yours in soft, thoughtless patterns, the way his head tilts toward you slightly every time you speak, like you are the only thing worth listening to.

There is no question about what this is.

There is no question about where you belong.

He makes sure of it.

And then, with perfect, almost cinematic timing, he steers you toward McLaren hospitality.

Right to the coffee bar.

The barista from yesterday stands behind the counter, the same sharp-cut uniform, the same perfectly applied lipstick, the same calculating gaze.

Only now, it falters.

She sees Lando before she sees you, her posture straightening, professional mask slipping into place like second nature. But then, her eyes flick toward you—toward your hands intertwined, toward the subtle, unspoken intimacy of the way he keeps close.

You watch as realization dawns.

Oh.

Lando leans against the counter, effortless, grinning.

"Two oat lattes," he says, voice bright, easy, amused. "One for me, one for my girl."

The silence that follows is exquisite.

The barista hesitates—just for a fraction of a second, just long enough for you to see it.

Panic.

"Of course," she says, voice smooth but not quite as sharp as before.

And just like that, there are no shortages, no waiting, no excuses.

The coffees are made within seconds.

Lando watches, humming thoughtfully, tapping his fingers lightly against the counter as she slides the first cup toward him. He lifts it to his lips, taking a slow, exaggerated sip before letting out a long, obnoxiously satisfied hum.

"Mm," he muses, shifting his weight, sparing her a glance. "Tastes better today."

His smirk is dangerous.

"Must be the service."

The barista’s lips press together just slightly.

You take your coffee, cradling the cup in your hands, offering her a soft, serene smile.

"Thank you," you say lightly.

You watch as she winces.

And Lando, the ever-efficient instigator that he is, takes it one step further.

"You know," he muses, as if the thought has just occurred to him, "I think I should make this a tradition."

He turns to you then, eyes bright with mischief, voice just loud enough for the surrounding staff to hear.

"Morning coffee," he says smoothly. "Every race weekend. For the foreseeable future."

The barista looks like she wants to disappear.

You, on the other hand, can’t help but smile.

...

The checkered flag had waved, the roar of the crowd still vibrating through the air, but none of it mattered—not the celebrations, not the flashing cameras, not the McLaren team swarming the pit wall in victory.

Because the moment Lando climbed out of the car, eyes scanning the chaos, he found you.

And then—he ran.

Straight toward you, helmet discarded, race suit half-unzipped, curls a disheveled mess from the heat of the cockpit.

You barely have time to react before he collides into you, arms wrapping around your waist, lifting you off the ground like you weigh nothing.

You shriek—an actual, real shriek—as your feet leave the pavement, the entire world tilting as he spins you in circles,laughter spilling from his lips like he can’t contain it.

And then—he kisses you.

Right there, in front of thousands of fans, in front of cameras, reporters, his entire team.

Hard. Fierce. Like he’d won the race and you in the same breath.

The world erupts around you—cheering, chanting, Oscar groaning dramatically in the background.

"Oh my god. You two are disgusting."

None of it matters.

Because Lando is grinning against your lips, breathless, victorious, yours.

When he finally sets you back down, he doesn’t let go.

Doesn’t even try to.

Instead, he beams down at you, cheeks flushed, curls damp with sweat, voice all cocky, all Lando.

"So, did I impress you or what?"

You roll your eyes, fond and exasperated all at once. "Eh. You were alright."

He gasps. Actually gasps.

"You’re joking." He turns toward the cameras, mock-betrayed. "Did you guys hear that? I win a Grand Prix, and she says I’m ‘alright.’"

You bite your lip, pretending to consider. "You were pretty fast, I guess."

"Pretty fast?" he repeats, positively scandalized. "Babe. I am literally the fastest man in Australia right now."

You burst out laughing. "I was kind of rooting for Oscar."

Oscar, mid-drink of water behind you, chokes.

"Lies." Lando pulls you back in, forehead resting against yours, his voice dropping into something softer, something just for you.

"Say you’re proud of me."

You sigh dramatically. "I guess I’m—"

"Say it."

You grin, heart pounding. "Fine. I’m proud of you, Norris."

He hums, satisfied, smug, still absolutely glowing. "Thought so."

...

Lando was still riding the high when he got to the media pen, his race suit unzipped to his waist, curls damp with sweat, and that stupidly charming grin still plastered across his face.

It wasn’t just a ‘first win of the season’ grin.

It was a ‘my girlfriend is here, and I just won a whole-ass race for her’ grin.

The interviewer barely got a word in before Lando pointed directly at you, standing just off-camera.

"Her."

You blink. "Me?"

"Yeah, you!" He turns back to the cameras, nodding enthusiastically. "Let’s just get this straight—I did this for her. Like, entirely. One hundred percent. Full motivation. If she hadn’t shown up, I probably would’ve parked it in a gravel trap on lap ten."

The interviewer laughed. "So, you’re saying she’s your good luck charm?"

"Absolutely," Lando replied, dead serious. "I mean, have you seen her? Look at her."

The camera did not pan to you, thank god. The poor guy running the live feed probably had no idea what to do.

But Lando? Oh, he was just getting started.

"She walked into this paddock today looking like an actual goddess, completely unaware that she is, in fact, the sun incarnate, and people want me to talk about tire degradation? No. I want to talk about her."

The interviewer tried so hard to stay professional.

"You—uh, you had great pace today—"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Lando waved him off.

"Lando, I don’t think—"

"Listen, I need to emphasize something." Lando leaned in, tone conspiratorial. "Do you know how lucky I am? Not only is she breathtaking, but she’s also, like, annoyingly smart. Like, did you know she reads all the time? Real books.Not just memes and Twitter threads like me."

He gestured vaguely, suddenly overwhelmed by his own emotions.

"She doesn’t even realize how much people admire her. But I see it. I see everything. And I just think the world needs to start appreciating her at my level."

"That is… very sweet." The interviewer was visibly struggling to keep up.

"Just had to get that out there."

"Well, congratulations on the win, Lando," the interviewer finally managed, skimming over his list of unanswered questions he had prepared.

"Thank you." He nodded seriously, finally letting go of the mic. "And big thanks to the team, of course."

You rolled your eyes from behind the cameras, suppressing a smile.

...

The internet had seen many things, but no one was prepared for Lando Norris using his post-race interview as a full-blown love letter. 

"Lando’s race pace was great, but his girlfriend propaganda was even stronger."

"THE WAY HE JUST POINTED AT HER IMMEDIATELY I CAN’T."

"Lando Norris said ‘this win is for my girlfriend’ and proceeded to recite a romantic sonnet on live TV. My standards are ruined."

Later, as the two of you curled up in the hotel room, finally away from the cameras, Lando buried his face in your neck with a content sigh.

"You know," he murmured, voice sleepy, warm, full of love. "I really did win that for you."

You ran your fingers through his curls. "I know."

"I meant every word, too."

You smiled. "Don't you think it was a bit much?"

"I don't think it was nearly enough," he said, already half-asleep, grinning like he had never been happier.

min yoongi

smaus

shut up

two closed off people fall for each other, no one would of seen this coming

do it again @kimnjss | a s

months after deciding to end their three year long relationship, a sex tape hits the internet. fans go wild speculating that rap star, min yoongi and aspiring model, yn are the stars. old feelings arise as the couple try to figure out a way out of this.

thinking of you @smaubts | c

yoongi and y/n hate each other, at least that's what they tell everyone. when unexpected events occur they begin to realise that maybe the real cause for all the hate is because it's a way to hide the feelings they won't admit.

bluebird @firebettercallnct | a f c

trying to suppress your feelings for someone is hard but it's even harder when they're seemingly happy with someone else.

or in which he's a sunset and she's a bluebird.

good bad choices @bangtanloverboys | f

girls like you aren't normally seen with guys like him, but he's nothing like what you think

t.l.h.c. (the lonely hearts club) @cinnaminsvga | c f a

social media au where y/n and yoongi are mutuals but they're constantly at each other's throats for reasons unknown (aka emotional constipation)

the duff @sillyseoks | f

After years of pining after the shy boy, Jeon Jungkook, Min Yoongi takes pity upon y/n and with his dropping grades, he enlists her to help him raise them. In return, he’ll “deduff” her and get the younger boy to fall in love with her. But that was certainly easier said than done, especially with unrequited loves, crackhead groupchats, bff drama, and homework in the mix.

call me baby @smaubts

in which yoongi accidentally tells his ex he's dating y/n, his sworn enemy, which leads to him and his friends to create a plan envolving his sworn enemy y/n and fake dating her. a very platonic and fake relationship turns awkward when unexpected feelings arise.

daylight @maravillamin | a f

life gets a little more complicated when your son befriends a kid whose father seems to hate your guts

maybe this time @minbbyy

Stealing songs, and marketing them as your own is the worst thing you could do being in the music industry. You’re fake, lazy, unprofessional, a thief, and a liar. Being accused of something so serious, y/n didn't know what to do. Y/N thought she could rely on her best friends but they turned their backs on her. With no evidence in her favor, she ran. Now a year later, she’s ready to live the life that she lost and clear her name. Will she be able to handle facing those who betrayed her? Will she be able to trust them again after everything they did to her? Maybe this time, she’ll gain back the friendships and love that she lost. Maybe this time, she’ll find a new love to carry her through her hurt and pain.

now you see me @minsugapie | f a

You’re a content creator that is wanting to change up your brand a little bit.

Yoongi is a faceless musician. Well, he’s two people at once. He’s the faceless Agust D online and while performing, but he’s Min Yoongi in real life.

Who will he be to you?

epiphany @hxneysuga | f a

unlikely alliance @bts-celestials

yoongi helps you get the boy of your dreams and you help him get the girl of his dreams, it’s a win-win situation!

spoiled milk @adorajoon

an au in which you join an app that assigns you to groupchats randomly

fake love @cafevantae | a c

in which you go from single to ‘engaged’ overnight, all because you don’t want to show up to your ex-boyfriend’s wedding alone

second chance

After Yoongi got his heart broken by his first love ever, he decided to leave and live a little adventure.

broken hearts club @bbangpanmen | f a

“in those 13 years... where was i?”

best friends to lovers au except you’re not the best friend

also

what happens to the one who gets left behind?

loser baby @dejayoonw | f a c s

Schola Veneficas, a college for witches where everyone seems to know who you are which is weird considering you don’t really know much about your family history. When the cute fifth year takes pity on you it makes the unexpected hostility a little more bareable, at least for a little while.

more @dejayoonw | a f

recently divorced & looking for a new producer you’re inroduced to the seemingly stoic and hardworking min yoongi. at first it seems like he hates you but slowly he begins to warm up, showing you who he really is. how could you not fall for the caring, talented and amazingly devoted father?

your voice @burningupp

at night, yoongi tends to frequent cafés to get some work done. one night, he hears you sing, and his world is forever changed.

series

skin deep @aquaminwrites | a s

fluff

love grows where you go. @hueseok | 11.4k ; a f s

determined to make you and yoongi grow closer for your upcoming wedding in two weeks, your parents plan a trip for the both of you that lasts five days long. you know you should be ecstatic about it, considering your longtime crush on your fiancé, but by how you're positive that he secretly despises your whole being, you don't find this mini vacation with him something to look forward to. that is until things take an unexpected turn and suddenly, he makes it apparent he doesn’t hate you at all as you reckoned.

yoongi doesn't romance @jamaiskookie | 6.6k ; c f

yoongi isn't great at expressing feelings- especially with how nervous he gets around you. alternatively titled: yoongi sucks at romance

the way to your heart @joonary | 9k

when your office christmas party’s secret santa gives you absolutely no context on what kind of gift he wants, you have no choice but to get to know him better.

cream & suga @snackhobi | 14.8k ; f s

yoongi is your favourite regular. he’s patient, polite, and predictable, a-large-black-coffee-to-go-please, no cream, no sugar, thank you. rinse and repeat. the seasons might change, but yoongi’s order stays the same.

and then one fateful day in winter, yoongi asks about the weekly specials, orders a cup of christmas and sugary sweetness, and everything starts changing.

the third & sixth @jimlingss | 7.9k

One. Two. Three. Fantastic things come in threes, that includes you and your two best friends. But when they start dating each other, you quickly come to realize that you’ve become the infamous. third. wheel. Left out — invading their date — forced to watch them canoodle — an unnecessary extension to the group. It only worsens when you upgrade into the fifth wheel.....until a special sixth comes along.

wondering about holding min yoongi's hands @bangtanloverboys | 1.5k

you defintely don't have a hand kink but min yoongi's hands are something else

mixtape @jungblue | 15.6k ; s f

Two mystery students from your college run the podcast dubbed ‘mixtape.’ It’s become a sort of phenomenon around campus, listened to by almost everyone. In their most recent episode they discussed various study methods... One of them being oh so tempting.

yoongi as your bf @bangtansfavwriter

stuck with you @retrievablememories | 3.3k

“Can you do a idol!Min Yoongi of BTS request of his crush being best friends with Jimin and Taehyung and him and his crush consistently fluster the other but they never realize until one day he does and finally make as move despite everyone telling them for weeks that they like each other?”

[01:26 am] @wtf-yoongi

an out of bounds umbrella @bubmyg | 10.2k

you’re apologetic about almost blinding your university’s star point guard with the broken tip of your umbrella until you share a class with him and find out he’s a three star recruit but a four star dick or min yoongi doesn’t find your high school musical puns amusing.

yoongi as your boyfriend @xpeachesncream

a night in the studio @elliescrolls | 0.8k

nights in the studio are the best.

maybe i love you, maybe you love me @jinpanman | 2.9k

It’s something you’ve known since you were five and it’s only grown stronger as the decades passed.

tts drabble 7: the first "baby talk" @ubemango

smut

moonlight. @atdawnsuga | 3.6k

Your boyfriend drags you to a work event. Feeling bored and aroused by thoughts of him, you slip away and enjoy some privacy with him.

the devil in the details @foreignfingers | 6.5k

Your roommate is a disembodied voice, full of sarcasm and utter contempt for mankind. And when it comes to you? He might be willing to jump through a few hoops, or bodies, just to make you scream.

beg for it. @atdawnsuga | 3.9k

Yoongi fucks you up so you decide to shamelessly torture him.

rogue. @junghelioseok | 3.9k

a night out leads you to exactly where you want to be

strike a chord @snackhobi | 15.8k

your idea of a good night certainly doesn't involve being stood up by yet another blind date and finding yourself alone in a fancy bar; fortunately for you, there's an attractive man playing the piano to keep you busy, instead.

damn the charcuterie board. @bratkook

meteor @whatifyoulivelikethat

Ah, university. A time to get drunk, get laid, and get an education. Not so for Min Yoongi however (not even the education part, smh). He was dragged along to parties because of the insistence of his friends (despite having fun anyway, what a grump). Until a meteor crashes into his atmosphere, in the form of a picture he didn’t remember taking, and then Yoongi’s life becomes a whole lot more interesting.

muse @another-army-spot | 4k ; f s

When your boyfriend cancels on his own birthday dinner to finish work instead, you decide to pay him a visit to his studio so he won’t be so lonely.  There, you can at least make sure he’s taken care of properly.

sinning hands @moonlightchildz

want a taste? @suga-kookiemonster | 18.3k

pretzel pro. most skillful tongue in the food court world. allegedly. that’s what yoongi keeps telling you, anyway. of course, you’re reasonably skeptical of his claims—but if there’s one thing that motivates the notoriously-lethargic man, it’s proving skeptics wrong.

gym rat @mingoyeob-archive | 5k

you told everyone you were spending more time at the gym in an effort to turn your life around. in reality you were going just to sneak glimpses at one of the regulars who, for some reason, always looked like he hated being there. that didn’t seem to stop him from bending you over the bench in the gym locker room though. inspired by yoongi’s new gym bod that’s suits him a little too well.

uncharted territory @satnin-darling

It started off with two. And then, there was a possibility of three. You thought that Jungkook was only meant to be for one night only, mostly because Yoongi was parading his fiancé around and that irked you more than you cared to admit. Yet, Jungkook asserted himself more often, and you let him, not forgetting Yoongi of course. Turns out you had nothing to worry about since they are more than happy to accommodate.

the dark. @bratkook | 18k

your small town thrives on the occult, luring tourists in with endless themed festivities, but the only place you’re determined to see is the mysterious club that comes to life the week before Halloween. what makes The Dark so exclusive, and what secrets are they hiding behind closed doors?

trick or treat. @satnin-darling | 5.9k

The Joker, a Gray Pianist, and an Action-taker were supposed to walk into a bar on Halloween. Turns out they don't even make it past the front door because they were too busy fucking each other to partake in this year’s spooky season 🎃😜

rule of three @satnin-darling | 10.6k

In the parameters of writing, the “rule of three” is based on the principle that things that come in threes are inherently more satisfying or more effective than any other number. You and Yoongi can't help but notice Jungkook's persistent fascination, so why not indulge? Anyhow, there's nothing wrong with testing out a tried and true principle in the presence of an eager participant 😉

tesselation | 2.4k ; s f

Yoongi loves being your good boy

aftermath | 2k

after PTD LA D-1 , Jungkook comes back to you absolutely being wrecked by RM and Yoongi becuase he asked them to. Then he takes over.

monster for rent @yoonjinkooked | 20.6k ; s c

With your emotions riding high after a draining break-up, you can finally taste freedom after what felt like a prison you willingly signed up for. After a much needed night out with your friends, the word inhibition is erased out of your vocab. High on both adrenaline and liberation, you don’t even pause to think before you make your next move - and just for one night, you decide to go for a different kind of monster.