Little Secret
Little Secret
Min Yoongi x Reader
Summary: Your relationship with Yoongi, though young, couldn't be better. But that doesn't mean it's perfect Genre: fluff Word Count: 1,802 Warnings: none Notes: This is a rewrite of Dirty Little Secret. Thanks to @taegularities and @eatjeanjin for beta-ing this.
Part of the Long Term Couples series. Read more here.
Dating him was hard.
It was the late nights, the daily exhaustion, the constant coming and going of touring and promoting and recording. It was stopping by the studio just to see him for 15 minutes while he was on break. It was stopping by the practice space while he worked on choreography just to be in the same room as him. It was missed dates and missed calls and ignored texts.
It was sleeping alone, even when you were at the dorms.
And it was sharing him. With management. With the other six members. With the world.
It was not getting to have him publicly because it just wasn’t the right time.
It was never the right time.
He had warned you about it all on the first date. He was cautious. He was used to being dumped. It was no one’s fault, he had said. Having a love life was hard for him, and he didn’t blame anyone who didn’t want all of the strings attached.
He reminded you again on the second real date, almost a month and a half later. He wouldn’t be offended if you didn’t want to see him for a third, he had said. He understood if you wanted something a little more stable, more predictable, more normal.
The third date had come soon after that, a rare day off where he could actually take you out for a drive-thru milkshake. You had sat in the parking lot of the BigHit offices--the only place he could guarantee you wouldn’t be harassed--and he’d brought it up again. He wanted you to be happy, he had told you. He was fond of you, but he didn’t want that to affect anything. If you wanted to leave, he would let you.
He thought he was protecting you from his lifestyle, from him. Min Yoongi had always been considerate like that.
But as you sat there in the passenger seat of the car he borrowed from his company, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave. Not when he was sitting there chewing on his lip, absentmindedly stirring the dregs of his milkshake, pretending he wasn’t staring at you behind his sunglasses.
You knew you couldn’t have left him if you wanted to, even back then.
You were astonished at how hard you fell for him, at how quickly he took root in your heart. Two months in, you’d asked him for his schedule, and you started bringing him lunch when he was in the studio on your days off. You’d let yourself into the Genius Lab with the passcode he had shared with you like it was the code to set off a nuclear bomb and stay until you got sick of sitting there and then a little longer because you were happy to spend the time in silence if it meant you got to hang out together.
It was on one of those days that you were sitting on the couch in his studio, flipping through a magazine quietly. You had brought him a few rolls of kimbap and kimchi for lunch, and since he had promised it would be a shorter day, you were waiting for him to finish up with the track he was working on.
The magazine you were reading featured an article about a charitable event Yoongi and the other members had attended the previous month. The event had been teeming with celebrities, including a few female idol groups from other labels. You weren’t surprised when the article featured some gossip, especially when there was a full page spread of Jimin, Tae, Yoongi, and a few of the female idols at the event.
You glanced up at Yoongi as he worked. He was turned halfway between his midi keyboard and his computer, his right hand playing a melody you couldn’t hear, his left hand balanced over his computer keyboard. He tapped his foot as he played, counting out the beat for himself. Only the left side of his headphones was on properly, the right one pushed back and rested just behind his ear.
He looked over at you and flashed you a shy smile, hitting something on his computer keyboard. “You look confused,” he mumbled, pushing his headphones off fully so that they rested around his neck.
“Do I?”
He hummed, spinning his chair so he was facing you fully. “What’s on your mind?”
You looked down at the magazine. The Yoongi of a month ago stared back at you, the female idol’s arm around his shoulders. “This is probably going to sound dumb, but… why me?”
“What?”
“Of all the people in the world, you want me. Why?”
Yoongi rolled his chair towards you, looking at the magazine in your lap. “I mean, I’ll happily answer that question if you want me to, but… Where’s this coming from?”
You shrugged, tossing the magazine aside. “Morbid curiosity, I guess.”
He was silent for a moment, taking your hand in his. His thumb ghosted over your knuckles. “Can I tell you something?” He licked his lips before continuing. “Never in my wildest dreams did I even dare to hope to find someone like you.”
“Boring?” you joked.
His eyebrows creased, and a small pout formed on his lips. “I was going to say something cute, but boring works, too.” He dropped your hand and started to roll his chair back to his desk.
“No, hey.” You managed to grab his wrist before he got too far. “I wanna hear the cute thing, too.”
Yoongi laughed, a big, gummy smile spreading across his face. You could see the hint of a blush blossoming on his cheekbones. “Most people get so hung up on Suga and Agust D that they forget about Yoongi,” he said softly. “Most of the time, it feels like you don’t even know that I’m famous.” You chuckled softly, but otherwise stayed quiet. He raised an eyebrow, his pout returning. “Was that not cute enough for you?”
“You’re adorable.” You pinched his cheek quickly.
“Then what’s wrong?”
You sighed. He could read you like a book. Which, you supposed, wasn’t a bad thing. “I dunno.” You looked away from him, choosing instead to focus on the stickers on the air conditioning unit. “I love getting to spend time with Yoongi. I do.” You needed him to know that. That no matter what you were feeling, you truly did enjoy spending time with him, in whatever capacity he could manage. “I guess I just… I wish I could hang out with Suga sometimes. Y’know. In public.”
The couch dipped beside you, and his hand squeezed your knee. “Someday,” he whispered. “I would love nothing more than to take you to charity events and awards shows. I want to take you out to dinner and eat in the restaurant.” He sighed. His thumb rubbed circles into the fabric of your jeans. “But we have to wait for the label to give the green light. I don’t know how our fans would react.”
You sighed. He was right. Of course he was. Maybe someday your relationship would be public. He cared for you, that much was obvious. It made things easier to know that.
“I know that’s not very helpful.” Yoongi offered you a sad smile, his hand still in yours. “I wish I could give you more.”
“It’s fine. Honestly.”
“It’s not, though. You’re clearly upset by it.” He squeezed your hand, his soft eyes not meeting yours.
“I mean, it’s not forever. We’ll live.” You felt a little silly being bothered by it. It wasn’t like you were the only one going through this. You knew Jungkook and his girlfriend were in a similar boat, and there were hundreds of groups that were dealing with similar restrictions. “I just… it’s sad to not know when that’ll be, you know? It’s stupid. I don’t even enjoy going to public events like that. But it sucks to not even have the option. And…” You shook your head. “It’s silly.”
“It’s not silly. Tell me what’s on your mind.” He rolled his chair closer, his knee slotting itself between yours.
You sighed. “I just… we can’t dance? In public, I mean. It’s dumb. I don’t even like dancing.”
For a moment, Yoongi was silent, his lower lip captured between his teeth. His brow furrowed as he stared at your hands in his. Then, without saying anything, he rolled away from you. You felt stupid for even bringing it up. You’d only been officially dating for a few months. It seemed unfair to just burden him with your problems like that, especially when there was literally nothing he could do about it.
He started clicking away at something on his computer and your heart sank, assuming that he was getting back to work. He was busy, after all, and you knew he was determined to leave early that day. You reached down, grabbing your bag. You’d get out of his way so that he could work and not have to worry about you.
Just as you were about to stand and bid Yoongi goodbye, a soft song started to play through the speakers on his desk. He spun around in his chair to face you, a soft smile on his lips. Carefully, he stood, his hand outstretched to you as he crossed the short distance. Confused, you let him take your hand and tug you up.
He clutched your hand tightly, his other arm snaking its way around your waist, pulling you flush against him. Gently, he started to sway and you got the hint, wrapping your arm around him and resting your hand against his shoulder blade. He hummed along to the song, the soft sound rumbling in his chest. You didn’t recognize the tune.
“Why don’t you like dancing?” Yoongi whispered after what felt like an eternity in silence.
He was warm and soft in your arms, and his thumb rubbed gentle circles into your lower back, sending pleasant tingles up your spine. Your mind was a little hazy in the bliss of the moment, but you managed to respond.
“I don’t know. Just not my thing, I guess.” You felt him nod in understanding. “This isn’t so bad, though.”
Yoongi laughed at that, the feeling reverberating through your own chest. If only he knew how much of an understatement that was. Someday, you’d tell him. You’d tell him how, even though you’d only been together for a short time, he made you feel safe, and loved, and like you mattered. That no one else had ever made you feel as special as he did. That after such a short time, his attention and care meant more to you than almost anything else.
But until then, you supposed you could enjoy your little secret.
Read more of the series here.
More Posts from Mint--yoongs and Others
White Horse - Chapter 1: March 2023
Pairing: Max Verstappen x Isabelle Leclerc (Original Character)
Summary:
Max Verstappen is a World Champion. Isabelle Leclerc is invisible.
She watched her family give up everything for Charles’ career—Arthur’s karting, their father’s savings, even her childhood horse. She understood. She never asked for more.
But Max does. He notices the things no one else does, listens when no one else will, and puts her first in ways she never imagined. With him, she isn’t an afterthought—she’s a choice. And for the first time, she realizes she doesn’t have to be invisible.
Warnings and Notes:
....Do not expect particular quick updates on this, because it's a beast of a story. Also: kinda Charles bashing, but not really? You'll see.
As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble
A Bar in Montecarlo:
Max had come to the bar for a quiet drink, not to get his world flipped upside down. But then he spotted her.
She was standing at the counter, waiting for her drink, all soft confidence and effortless elegance. The kind of woman who didn’t need to try to turn heads—she just did. And Max, never one to let an opportunity pass him by, slid up beside her with his most charming smirk and opened his mouth.
And because apparently, he had actually listened the last time Lando told him all about the absolutely horrible Pick-Up-Lines that he had tried with middling success…that was what came out of his mouth.
“Excuse me,” he said smoothly, “but do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?”
She turned, amused—
And Max nearly choked.
Because he knew her.
His brain scrambled for a second before his mouth caught up. “Oh, shit. You’re Charles’ little sister.”
Her entire expression changed. The amusement faded, her jaw tightening. “Wow,” she deadpanned. “That’s one way to ruin a moment.”
Max grimaced. “That’s not what I—”
She picked up her drink and turned fully toward him, raising a brow. “I do have a name, you know.”
He nodded quickly, recovering. “Right. Isabelle.”
“Good job,” she said dryly. “Want a gold star?”
Max huffed out a laugh. “Look, I just wasn’t expecting you. I see a beautiful woman at a bar, and my instinct is to flirt. Then I realize she’s my colleague’s little sister, and I panic.”
Her lips twitched. “And?”
“And… I’m still going to flirt with you,” he admitted, grinning. “But properly this time.”
She tilted her head, intrigued. “Oh?”
Max leaned in slightly. “Can I buy you a drink, Isabelle?”
She pretended to consider. “That depends. Are you going to keep calling me Charles’ little sister?”
He placed a hand over his heart. “I solemnly swear never to utter those words again.”
Her lips curled in the slightest smirk. “In that case, sure. Let’s see if you can impress me, Verstappen.”
Max had never been one to back down from a challenge. And something told him this was a challenge he’d never want to walk away from.
Max flagged down the bartender, ordering another round for both of them. Isabelle took a slow sip of her drink, watching him over the rim of her glass like she was trying to decide if he was worth her time.
He liked that. Liked that she wasn’t falling over herself just because he was Max Verstappen.
“So,” he said, leaning against the bar, “what exactly would impress you?”
She hummed, tapping a finger against her glass. “A conversation that doesn’t involve my brothers.”
Max smirked. “That easy?”
“You’d be surprised how many people fail that test.”
He could imagine. Charles was everywhere in the racing world, and by extension, so was Isabelle. It must be exhausting, always being seen as an extension of someone else.
Max took the challenge seriously. “Alright,” he said, shifting toward her. “Tell me something about you that has nothing to do with your family.”
She studied him for a moment, like she was assessing if he was genuine. Then, after a beat, she said, “I work in architecture.”
Max blinked. “Really?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Why do you sound surprised?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I guess I never thought about what you do.”
She smirked. “That’s because you’ve only ever seen me as Charles’ little sister.”
Max winced. “Okay, fair. But I’m interested now.”
“Are you?” She tilted her head, amusement flickering in her eyes. “I have heard your name at work before.”
Max frowned. “You have?”
“Oh, yeah,” Isabelle said, taking another sip of her drink. “Apparently, you’ve been house hunting. One of my colleagues nearly had a meltdown over the idea of designing a place for Max Verstappen.”
Max narrowed his eyes. “Wait… which project?”
She bit back a smile. “A penthouse. You toured it a few weeks ago.”
Max suddenly knew exactly which one she was talking about. He had liked the place, but something had held him back from committing.
Now, though?
Now, he was very seriously considering signing the papers just for an excuse to see her again.
He leaned in, watching her reaction closely. “And if I were to, say, buy that penthouse?”
She didn’t miss a beat. “Then I’d know you had good taste.”
Max grinned. “That’s it?”
She shrugged. “That, and I’d probably have to endure my colleagues freaking out for at least a week.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “Alright, then. Guess I have some decisions to make.”
Isabelle rolled her eyes, but he caught the way her lips twitched like she was fighting a smile.
Yeah. He was definitely buying that penthouse.
Max drummed his fingers against the bar, pretending to think. "Alright, so let’s say I do buy that penthouse. Hypothetically."
Isabelle gave him a knowing look. "Hypothetically."
"Would I get a personal consultation?"
She laughed, shaking her head. "That’s not how it works."
"But if I had, I don’t know, questions about the design, or maybe some concerns about the layout, I’d need someone to talk to, wouldn’t I?"
Isabelle swirled the last of her drink in her glass, watching him with an amused glint in her eyes. "Max, are you trying to say you need my number for professional reasons?"
He grinned, tilting his head. "I mean, what if I need an expert opinion? You are the only architect I know."
She sighed in mock exasperation, but he could tell she was entertained. "I really shouldn’t encourage this."
"But you want to," Max countered, smirking.
Her lips twitched, and after a moment’s pause, she reached into her bag and pulled out her phone. "Fine. Give me yours, I’ll text you."
Max typed in his number so fast that she actually laughed. She typed something in her phone.
A second later, his phone buzzed with a new message.
Unknown Number: Congratulations on your completely unbiased, definitely not suspicious real estate decision.
Max chuckled. "So, what happens if I text you about things that aren’t penthouse-related?"
Isabelle lifted her glass to her lips and said, before taking the last sip, "Guess we’ll find out."
And just like that, Max Verstappen knew he was completely screwed.
***
Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Max Verstappen
(Unknown Number): Hey, it’s Max.
(Unknown Number): Verstappen.
(Unknown Number): Just in case you know a lot of Maxes.
Isabelle: I don’t.
Max: Good. Would hate to have competition already.
Isabelle: Already?
Max: What can I say? I like you.
Isabelle: You barely know me.
Max: That’s true. But I’d like to change that.
Isabelle: …That was smooth.
Max: Was it?
Isabelle: Surprisingly, yes.
Max: Noted. I’ll add it to my very short list of smooth moments.
Isabelle: Very short?
Max: Tragically short.
Isabelle: I don’t know if I believe that.
Max: I promise, my sister would confirm it.
Isabelle: You have a sister?
Max: Victoria.
Isabelle: Right, I think I’ve seen her before.
Max: Probably. She’d probably like you, by the way.
Isabelle: Oh?
Max: Yeah. She has a good instinct about people.
Isabelle: And what does your instinct say?
Max: That I really, really want to see you again.
Isabelle: You’re very direct, aren’t you?
Max: Is that a bad thing?
Isabelle: No. Just… unexpected.
Max: Well, I can be subtle too.
Isabelle: Can you?
Max: Definitely. For example, I could subtly ask what you’re doing tomorrow night.
Isabelle: …Very subtle.
Max: Thank you. So?
Isabelle: I might be free.
Max: Good. Then I’ll subtly ask if you’d like to have dinner with me.
Isabelle: Are you always like this?
Max: Only when I really like someone.
Isabelle: …Dinner sounds nice.
Max: Perfect. I’ll send you the details.
Isabelle: Looking forward to it.
Max: Me too.
***
Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Victoria Verstappen
Max: I met someone.
Victoria: …Okay?
Max: And I think I’m in love.
Victoria: MAX.
Victoria: You literally just met her??
Max: Yes.
Victoria: And you think you’re in love?
Max: Yes.
Victoria: Oh my god.
Victoria: Max.
Victoria: WHAT.
Victoria: HOW.
Victoria: WHY.
Max: I don’t know, Vic. I just know. I met her tonight and I just…I just know.
Victoria: You’ve known her for one night.
Max: Yes.
Victoria: Max.
Max: Vic.
Victoria: Oh my god, you’re serious.
Max: Very.
Victoria: You’re actually gone for her already.
Max: Completely.
Victoria: …Okay.
Max: Okay?
Victoria: Yeah.
Victoria: I mean, I think you’re insane, but if anyone deserves to fall stupidly, recklessly in love, it’s you.
Max: …Thanks, Vic.
Victoria: You deserve to be loved, Max.
Victoria: For who you are. Not because you’re Max Verstappen, two-time world champion, but just because you’re you.
Max: …
Max: I think she sees me that way.
Victoria: Then hold onto her.
Max: I plan to.
Victoria: Is that why you’re texting me at midnight like a lunatic?
Max: …I may have also just bought that penthouse.
Victoria: MAX.
Victoria: YOU HAVE BEEN UNDECIDED ABOUT THAT PENTHOUSE FOR MONTHS.
Victoria: AND NOW YOU MEET A GIRL AND SUDDENLY YOU’RE BUYING IT???
Max: Her architecture firm is working on it.
Victoria: This is why people say Libras are intense.
Max: That’s astrology nonsense.
Victoria: SAYS THE MAN PLANNING A WHOLE FUTURE AFTER ONE CONVERSATION.
Max: I have a good feeling about it.
Victoria: MAX.
Max: What? You just said I deserve to be loved.
Victoria: YES, BUT I DIDN’T THINK YOU’D LOSE YOUR ENTIRE MIND OVER IT.
Max: Too late.
Victoria: Oh my god.
Victoria: You are actually the most ridiculous person alive.
Victoria: But if she makes you happy… then I’m happy for you.
Max: She does.
Victoria: Then that’s all that matters.
***
Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Emilie Abadie
Isabelle: Emergency. Crisis. Disaster.
Emilie: That’s a lot of words. What happened?
Isabelle: I have a date.
Emilie: And that’s a disaster because…?
Isabelle: Because it’s with Max Verstappen.
Emilie: …
Emilie: I’m going to need a second.
Emilie:
Emilie:
Emilie:
Emilie: Okay, I’m back. WHAT???
Isabelle: We met at a bar. He asked me out. I said yes. And now I don’t know what to wear. Focus. Help.
Emilie: We met at a bar, he asked me out, I said yes—DO YOU HEAR YOURSELF???
Isabelle: EMILIE. FOCUS. OUTFIT.
Emilie: Right. Okay. Where is he taking you?
Isabelle: Some fancy restaurant. Not too fancy, but still expensive.
Emilie: God, of course. Okay. Simple but elegant. A dress that makes it look like you didn’t try too hard, even though you absolutely did.
Isabelle: Black dress?
Emilie: Obviously. And heels. You own some ridiculous ones. Wear those.
Isabelle: You are suspiciously good at this.
Emilie: Because I have taste. Now, more importantly—DO YOUR BROTHERS KNOW??
Isabelle: …
Emilie: Isabelle.
Isabelle: No, they do not.
Emilie: WHY NOT???
Isabelle: Because I don’t want to deal with it.
Emilie: You are dating CHARLES LECLERC’S BIGGEST RIVAL. YOU DON’T THINK THAT’S WORTH MENTIONING???
Isabelle: One date does not mean I’m dating him.
Emilie: YET.
Isabelle: I don’t think Charles would care.
Emilie: …That is the saddest sentence I have ever read.
Emilie: You don’t think Charles would care.
Isabelle: No.
Emilie: Are we talking about the same man??? The one who holds grudges against people for bad karting races from 15 years ago??
Isabelle: I am saying that I am basically invisible in my family, and therefore, he will not care.
Emilie: THAT IS SO DEPRESSING.
Isabelle: It’s just reality.
Emilie: No, it’s tragic. And when Charles inevitably does care, I am going to be so smug about it.
Isabelle: He won’t.
Emilie: He will. And when he finds out from Twitter instead of you, I am going to remind you forever that I was right.
Isabelle: Fine. If he does, I will buy you dinner.
Emilie: And?
Isabelle: And I will admit you were right.
Emilie: Good girl. But first, we need to make sure Max Verstappen is absolutely floored when he sees you tonight. Let’s pick out your dress.
***
Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Victoria Verstappen
Max: HELP.
Max: I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO WEAR.
Victoria: Oh my god.
Max: I’m serious, Vic. This is important.
Victoria: It’s one date.
Max: Exactly! First impressions matter. What if I wear something stupid?
Victoria: You wear team merch 90% of the time, so that’s a real possibility.
Max: NOT HELPING.
Victoria: Okay, okay. Where are you taking her?
Max: Nice restaurant. Fancy-ish but not too fancy.
Victoria: Alright. Dark jeans, nice shirt, jacket. Clean shoes.
Max: That’s it???
Victoria: Yes, you’re not walking a red carpet, Max.
Max: What if she thinks it’s boring?
Victoria: If she’s going out with you, she probably already knows you’re a little fashion-challenged.
Max: Wow.
Victoria: I’m just saying, if she agreed to a date, she clearly likes you. Just wear something that fits and isn’t Red Bull merch.
Max: I feel like you’re underestimating the stress of this situation.
Victoria: I feel like you’re underestimating the fact that she already said yes.
Max: …Good point.
Victoria: Obviously. Now go find a shirt that isn’t a team polo and try not to overthink it.
Max: No promises.
Victoria: You’re impossible.
Max: And yet, you still love me.
Victoria: Unfortunately. Now go. And don’t text me from the restaurant freaking out.
Max: No guarantees.
***
Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Emilie Abadie
Emilie: Well????
Isabelle: Well, what?
Emilie: Isabelle. Do not play dumb with me. How did the date go??
Isabelle: …It was really nice.
Emilie: THAT’S ALL YOU’RE GIVING ME?
Emilie: I want DETAILS. Did he show up looking stupidly handsome? Was he nice? Did he make you laugh? Did you kiss him??
Isabelle: Yes, yes, yes, and Yes.
Emilie: YES??
Isabelle: I kissed him.
Emilie: !!!!!
Emilie: Details. Now.
Isabelle: It was after our date. He walked me to my door, and I just… kissed him.
Emilie: You just kissed him?? Who are you and what have you done with my overthinking best friend??
Isabelle: Shut up. I didn’t even think about it. I just did it.
Emilie: And???
Isabelle: And then he kissed me back.
Emilie: …That better not be the end of the story.
Isabelle: It was soft. And slow. And he cupped my face like I was something precious.
Emilie: Isabelle.
Emilie: Isabelle, my love. My dearest best friend.
Emilie: You’re done for.
Isabelle: … I know.
Emilie: And how did he look after?
Isabelle: Like he was trying very hard not to kiss me again.
Emilie: Oh, you’re so doomed.
Isabelle: I know.
Emilie: Tell me everything.
Isabelle: He was already at the restaurant when I got there, which was sweet. He pulled out my chair for me. He was nervous, which was insane to me because, you know, he’s Max Verstappen.
Emilie: Boy has driven through Eau Rouge at full speed, but a girl makes him nervous. I love this.
Isabelle: He kept looking at me like I was the most interesting person in the world. Like he actually wanted to hear everything I had to say.
Emilie: I love him already.
Isabelle: You love him?? Emilie, I might actually be in trouble here.
Emilie: Uh oh.
Isabelle: …He sent me flowers.
Emilie: WHAT.
Emilie: When???
Isabelle: They just got delivered.
Emilie: EXCUSE ME.
Emilie: You go on ONE date with Max Verstappen and wake up to FLOWERS???
Isabelle: Apparently.
Emilie: What kind?
Isabelle: Peonies.
Emilie: Belle.
Emilie: He is so in love with you.
Isabelle: It was one date.
Emilie: AND???
Emilie: The man sent you flowers the morning after like he’s starring in a romance novel.
Isabelle: Maybe he just does that?
Emilie: Girl. Be serious.
Emilie: Did he say anything with them?
Isabelle: There was a note.
Emilie: AND???
Isabelle: It just says ‘Last night was perfect. Can’t wait to see you again. – Max’
Emilie: I’M GONNA SCREAM.
Emilie: Max Verstappen is courting you.
Isabelle: Courting is a strong word.
Emilie: He sent you flowers. He is so gone for you.
Isabelle: …Maybe.
Emilie: So… second date?
Isabelle: Saturday.
Emilie: GIRL.
Isabelle: I know.
***
Isabelle Leclerc’s Instagram Post
Comments:
@/emilie_abadie: 👀👀👀
@/F1GossipQueen: That’s a very ‘I have a thoughtful boyfriend’ kind of flower arrangement.
↳@/paddockprincessx: Soft launch era????
@/leclercsiblingtea: If Charles doesn’t know who sent these, I need his live reaction immediately.
↳@/monacogossip: Why do I feel like this is someone wildly unexpected?
↳@/redbullsimpclub: Place your bets now, I’m saying it’s a paddock guy.
↳@/f1shenanigans: If this is from an F1 driver, I am losing my mind.
***
Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Max Verstappen
Isabelle: Thank you for the flowers. They are beautiful.
Isabelle: And for yesterday. I had a really nice time.
Max: I’m glad you liked them.
Max: What’s your favorite flower? For next time.
Isabelle: Snowdrops.
Max: Snowdrops?
Isabelle: Yes?
Max: I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone whose favorite flower is snowdrops.
Isabelle: That’s a shame. They’re beautiful. And they bloom in the cold, when nothing else does.
Max : Like you, then.
Isabelle: …Are you trying to be charming, Max Verstappen?
Max: Is it working?
Isabelle: Maybe.
Max: Good.
***
Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Sophie Kumpen
Sophie: So… Victoria told me something interesting.
Max: She needs a new hobby.
Sophie: Max.
Max: What?
Sophie: Are you in love?
Max: …Maybe.
Sophie: After one conversation?
Max: No! After two conversations.
Sophie: Oh, well, that’s much more reasonable.
Max: Mom.
Sophie: Max.
Max: Look, I just know that it’s different. I’ve never felt like this before.
Sophie: That’s a big thing to say.
Max: I know. But I can’t explain it. It just makes sense.
Sophie: So how did the date go?
Max: …It was perfect.
Sophie: Now we’re getting somewhere.
Max: She’s funny, she’s smart, she actually listens when I talk about racing—like, really listens. And she doesn’t care about the other stuff. The money, the fame. None of it. She just likes me.
Sophie: That’s important.
Max: I know.
Sophie: So when do I get to meet her?
Max: When she doesn’t think I’m a crazy person for how fast I’m falling for her.
Sophie: I hate to break it to you, Max, but you bought a penthouse because her firm is working on it.
Max: …
Sophie: That’s what I thought.
Max: It’s a very nice penthouse.
Sophie: Of course it is.
Max: So you’re not going to say I’m insane?
Sophie: Oh, you are insane. But you’re also my son. And if this makes you happy, then I’m happy for you.
Max: Thanks, Mom.
Sophie: Now tell me, do I need to start planning a wedding?
Max: Goodbye.
***
Leclerc Family Group Chat
(Members: Arthur, Isabelle, Charles, Lorenzo and Pascale)
Arthur: Dinner at Maman’s, Saturday, usual time?
Charles: Yeah, I’ll be there.
Lorenzo: Me too.
Isabelle: I can’t make it, I’m busy.
Arthur: What’s Maman making?
Charles: Probably something with pasta.
Lorenzo: Didn’t she say something about lamb last time?
Arthur: Oh yeah, I think so.
Isabelle: Have fun!
Charles: See you all Saturday.
***
Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Victoria Verstappen
Max: Hey, if I were to ask for date advice, purely hypothetically…
Victoria: Oh my God.
Max: What?
Victoria: You NEVER ask for advice. This must be serious.
Max: It’s not that serious.
Victoria: You literally bought an apartment because of this girl.
Max: …That’s unrelated.
Victoria: Sure it is.
Max: So… hypothetically… if I needed some guidance, what would you suggest?
Victoria: Are you actually asking for advice, or are you just hoping I’ll make it easier for you by giving you a list of things not to do?
Max: ...
Victoria: That’s what I thought. Give me a second.
Victoria: Okay, here’s your DO NOT list:
Do not talk about tire degradation.
Do not mention iRacing, no matter how good your last stint was.
Do not wear a Red Bull hoodie.
Do not check F1 news during the date.
Do not turn the date into a competition.
Do not text me mid-date if you panic. Figure it out.
Do not propose.
Max: …That last one was unnecessary.
Victoria: I’m just covering all bases.
Max: I wasn’t going to propose.
Victoria: Good. Then this should be easy for you.
Max: The Red Bull hoodie rule feels unfair.
Victoria: Max.
Max: Fine. No Red Bull hoodie.
Victoria: Thank you.
Max: …Can I at least wear the cap?
Victoria: Max.
Max: Alright, alright. No cap.
Victoria: Proud of you. Now, go be normal.
Max: No promises.
***
Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Gianpiero Lambiase
Max: Hypothetically. If you were taking someone on a second date. What would you do?
GP: …Why are you asking me?
Max: Because you’re married!
GP: And?
Max: That means you’ve successfully dated someone.
GP: That does not make me a dating expert.
GP: Also, since when do you ask me for relationship advice?
GP: Who is she?
Max: …
GP: Max.
Max:
GP: MAX.
GP: WHO IS IT.
Max: Isabelle.
GP: Isabelle who?
Max: …Leclerc.
GP:
GP: MAX.
GP: CHARLES LECLERC’S SISTER?!?!?!?!?
Max: Yeah, she doesn’t really like being called that.
GP: MAX.
GP: DO YOU HAVE A DEATH WISH?
Max: Not particularly.
GP: HOW DID THIS HAPPEN.
Max: I met her.
GP: OBVIOUSLY.
GP: Where?! When?! How long has this been going on?!
Max: A few days.
GP: And Charles doesn’t know???
Max: I don’t think he notices much about her.
GP: Okay, that’s a whole other issue, but back to you.
GP: Do you have any self-preservation instincts?
Max: She’s nice. I like her.
GP: THAT IS NOT THE POINT.
GP: Do you realize the incident this could cause?
Max: If I wanted overreactions, I’d have texted Victoria.
GP: I AM REACTING APPROPRIATELY.
GP: What does Victoria think?
Max: She said, "You deserve to be loved."
GP: …Well, that’s suspiciously sentimental.
GP: But also, Charles is still going to kill you.
Max: You’re being dramatic.
GP: AM I?
Max: Are you helping or not?
GP: I AM TOO BUSY PROCESSING YOUR TERRIBLE LIFE CHOICES.
GP: Okay. Okay. Deep breaths. Let’s focus.
GP: You need a second date idea.
GP: That does not result in Charles Leclerc murdering you.
Max: I think you’re overestimating how much he pays attention to her.
GP: That’s between them. I am concerned for you.
Max: You’re being dramatic again.
GP: No, I’m being realistic.
Max: …I’ll deal with that when it happens.
GP: Unbelievable.
GP: Alright. Date ideas.
GP: What did you do for the first one?
Max: Dinner. Talked a lot.
GP: What does she like?
Max: Horses.
GP: Horses.
GP: You’re dating someone who likes horses.
Max: Yes?
GP: I feel like that’s relevant information I should’ve had sooner.
GP: Have you ever been near a horse, Max?
Max: Not really.
GP: Okay, no horse-related dates yet. You will get yourself killed trying to impress her.
Max: She’d find that funny.
GP: I wouldn’t.
GP: Let’s keep it simple. Somewhere quiet. Private. Where you can talk.
Max: I was thinking that too.
GP: What about a picnic?
Max: A picnic.
GP: Yeah. You get some good food, go somewhere nice, and just relax. No stress.
Max: Where am I supposed to find a picnic spot?
GP: You have a balcony, Max.
GP: You literally have a balcony with a view.
GP: Just set something up there.
Max: …That’s actually not a bad idea.
GP: Wow. Praise from the great Max Verstappen. I’m honored.
Max: Don’t get used to it.
GP: Okay, what kind of food does she like?
Max: She ordered pasta on our first date.
GP: That’s a start. You could order from the same place.
Max: Or I could cook.
GP: You could what?
Max: I can cook, GP.
GP: Since when?
Max: Since I lived alone?
GP: Okay, sure. But can you cook something that won’t poison her?
Max: Wow. Faith in me is at an all-time low.
GP: Just making sure she survives the night.
Max: I’ll make pasta. It’s simple.
GP: Fine. But don’t experiment. Stick to what you know.
Max: What do you think I’m going to do? Try molecular gastronomy?
GP: I wouldn’t put it past you.
GP: Okay, what else… You need drinks. Dessert.
Max: She likes red wine.
GP: Get a good wine, then. And dessert?
Max: She mentioned liking raspberries once.
GP: So get her something with raspberries.
Max: Got it.
GP: And what about ambiance?
Max: …
GP: Max.
Max: What?
GP: Do you even own candles?
Max: …Victoria gave me some once.
GP: Use them.
GP: And put some effort into setting the table.
GP: You know, for someone who acts like they don’t care about romance, you’re actually putting effort into this.
Max: …She’s worth the effort.
GP:
GP: Damn.
GP: Okay.
GP: You have to survive Charles finding out.
Max: I told you. I’ll handle it.
GP: Yeah, yeah. Just keep me updated.
Max: Sure.
GP: And if you need actual advice, ask Victoria.
Max: I did ask Victoria. She just sent me a list of things not to do.
GP: What was on the list?
Max: "Don’t talk about tire degradation. Don’t mention iRacing. Don’t wear a Red Bull hoodie."
GP: Solid advice.
Max: She also said, "Act normal."
GP: That one might be harder for you.
Max: Wow.
GP: Just being honest.
GP: So, do you have everything planned?
Max: Yeah. I think so.
GP: Good. Now all you have to do is not mess it up.
Max: Thanks for the vote of confidence.
GP: Any time.
***
Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Emilie Abadie
Emilie: Soooooo... how was the date?
Isabelle: Good.
Emilie: …That’s it? "Good"? You had dinner with Max Verstappen, a man who has clearly lost his mind over you, and all you have to say is "good"???
Isabelle: Fine. Great. Amazing.
Isabelle: Happy?
Emilie: Better. But I’m gonna need DETAILS.
Isabelle: We had dinner, talked a lot, and then I stayed over.
Emilie:
Emilie: EXCUSE ME???
Emilie: YOU STAYED OVER????
Isabelle: Yes.
Emilie: As in "I fell asleep on the couch watching a movie and went home in the morning" stayed over, or "I am now intimately familiar with Max Verstappen's bedsheets" stayed over???
Isabelle: …
Emilie: ISABELLE.
Isabelle: Nothing happened.
Emilie: Oh my god.
Emilie: OH MY GOD.
Isabelle: I swear, nothing happened. It just got late and…
Emilie: This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
Isabelle: I’m so glad MY love life is giving you entertainment.
Emilie: You don’t understand. I’ve been waiting for you to have an actual romance for YEARS. YEARS, ISABELLE.
Isabelle: You make it sound like I was living in a cave.
Emilie: Emotionally? Maybe a little.
Isabelle: Rude.
Emilie: True.
Emilie: But seriously. How do you feel?
Isabelle: …I don’t know. It’s weird.
Isabelle: He likes me. Like, really likes me. And I’m not used to that.
Emilie: Then get used to it, babe. Because that man? He’s already gone for you.
Isabelle: You think so?
Emilie: I KNOW so.
Emilie: Now tell me: does he have nice bedsheets, or do I need to stage an intervention?
***
Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Gianpiero Lambiase
GP: Well???
Max: Well, what?
GP: Don’t play dumb. How did it go?
Max: …
GP: MAX.
Max: It went well.
GP: That’s it? That’s all I get after coaching you through this?
Max: What do you want me to say?
GP: I want details. Did she like the food? Did you talk about tire degradation anyway? Did she laugh about your terrible jokes?
Max: She liked the food. No, I did not mention tire degradation. Rude.
GP: Growth. I’m proud of you.
Max: Thanks.
Max: The cats love her.
GP: …THE CATS?! MAX. That is NOT the update I was looking for.
Max: No, but it’s important. They don’t just like people.
GP: I was expecting romance, maybe a ‘we stayed up talking all night’ or ‘she laughed at all my jokes’—and you’re giving me ‘the cats love her’??!
Max: It means a lot! Jimmy and Sassy were literally fighting for her attention. She was just sitting on the couch, and they both climbed into her lap like she was their owner.
GP: …Okay, I’ll admit, that’s kind of a big deal. You’re in love, aren’t you?
Max: I mean… yeah.
GP: I knew it. The cats knew it. Everyone knew it. Charles is gonna lose his mind.
Max: That’s a problem for future Max.
***
The Apartment Games | Series Masterlist
pairing: ot7 x f!reader (platonic?)
genre: crack, humour, smau
warnings/tags: non-idol!au, college!au, roommates!au, player!taehyung, literature student!namjoon, fashion student!hobi, comp-sci student!jin, music student!jungkook, sound production student!yoongi, business student!taehyung, veterinary student!jimin, communications student!yn, more warnings in individual parts
disclaimer: this smau crack fic is just for fun (that said, i’m probably going to put in way more time and effort than warranted) and since this is a wip, everything here is pretty much subject to change. also don’t ask me how the age differences work, there were No Thoughts
summary: when y/n’s roommate moves out, an opening at the nicest apartment complex on campus becomes available – and highly coveted within the crowded bangtan dorm. with seven chances to prove who can be the best roommate, the boys are prepared to do just about anything for some privacy and freedom. and y/n certainly intends to make the most of that desperation willingness. welcome to the apartment games.
index
>. character profiles
i. the end of an era pt.1
ii. the end of an era pt.2
iii. the list
iv. ground rules
I feel like TWIG needs some angst so imagine George finding out that you and your little ones got into a car accident
You are so right, anon 💕 Sorry it took me a bit to get to this one but I had to make sure I was in the writing mindset for angst!!
Warnings: Minor descriptions of car crash, injuries, and shock
It wasn’t quite the same as the real thing; stuffed in a replica of the recent Mercedes chassis facing a large arched screen displaying the virtual circuit of Baku. After almost a decade in the sport, George could have driven those streets with his eyes closed but he knew there was no place for cockiness behind the wheel. Every turn and choice must be meticulously calculated and perfected to pull every second out of the care safely.
He was just starting another flying lap in the sim when the tone of the speaker tore him from his focus. One of the technicians spoke to him through the windowed wall of the simulator booth, “George, your phone keeps ringing out here. It’s your wife. Why don’t you take five?”
A spark of concern flickered in his chest, wondering why you were calling multiple times when you rarely so much as messaged him when he was at the factory. He climbed out of the simulator and stepped through the door into the adjacent room that held a few long desks stocked with computers housing impressive data sets and graphs. The employees that took up the seats kept their attention on studying the results of the session while George picked up his phone from where he had left it at the table at the back.
He noticed three missed calls from you and before he could call you back, his screen filled with your name and contact image with another incoming call. The urgency had his stomach churning and he stepped out into the hallway for a moment of privacy as he answered it.
“Hey, my love, sorry, I was in the sim.” he spoke into the phone, trying not to sound too worried, “Is everything okay?”
“Hey, yeah, we’re okay,” you answered.
He could hear the tension in your voice, the slight waver to your words. Somewhere in the distance, there was chatter and the muffled sound of an announcement.
“I just…” you tried to continue but your words seemed to halt.
George sat down in a chair in one of the small lounges in the factory, “Love, what is it? You’re scaring me.”
“Sorry,” you breathed, your exhale shaky, “I’m with the kids at the hospital. We, uh…there was…fuck.”
He could tell how shaken you were by the fact you were unable to even piece sentences together but the fact he was only being given bits of the story was sending him into a spiral. With a tight breath, he pressed urgently, “Are you okay? Are they okay?”
“Yeah, no, yeah, we’re fine.” you assured him quickly, “Some bruises but…we’re all fine. Just…got into a little car accident. Came here to be checked out just in case.”
George was filled with equal parts relief and dread. Relief that you were all okay but dread that there had been enough of an accident to have you think about going to the hospital to get checked out. He didn’t even have to think about it before he stood up from the bench and started back down the hallway towards his private room, replying, “Okay…okay, my love, I’m on my way, alright? I have your location, I’ll head to you right now. Stay put, okay?”
“Okay,” you echoed in an exhale lined with a moment of relief, “Thank you. I’m sorry.”
“Oh my God, baby, do not be sorry. I’m just glad you’re okay. I just have to change and I’m coming right to you now.”
“Okay, I love you.”
The shock-stemmed flatness of your voice was chilling.
“I love you too,” George replied easily, his tone extra warm and gentle, “I’ll see you soon.”
He was sure he had never changed faster in his life, tugging off his sim-ready race suit in exchange for his street clothes before he had even alerted his team that he had to go. When he returned to the simulator room to say he was leaving and why, he didn’t even wait for a response before he was closing the door behind him and making a beeline for the stairs of the factory.
The parking lot of the Brackley headquarters was packed but George’s reserved parking spot wasn’t too far from the front doors of the building. He checked your location on his brisk walk to his car, zooming in on the map to see what hospital you were at and, once he was sitting behind the wheel, he typed the location into the GPS in his car.
It was ironically a sunny day in England that day, the roads dry and clear as he navigated through the countryside from Brackley to Cambridge. He silently cursed the hour-and-a-half drive as his impatience was settling on his shoulders but he didn’t let it deter him from focusing on the roads ahead. The piece of mind came with the awareness that you were okay.
Once he was parked outside the Addenbrooke Hospital on the southern point of the city of Cambridge, he was hurrying across the lot towards the entry doors, phone pressed to his ear as he called you. You directed him to where you were waiting and once he emerged through the double doors into the waiting room of the wing you were in, his heart was racing.
You stood from your chair at the sight of him and he rushed to meet you, swallowing you up in a careful embrace. You clung onto him tightly, fingers clutching the back of his shirt and your eyes screwed shut as you buried your face in his neck. He could feel your heavy sigh of relief in his arms as if the tension and stress had been completely dissipated from your body with a simple hug from him.
Across the waiting room, your two children were distracted by some toys in the corner, playing together, unbothered, as if it were just another day. Watching them for a moment over your shoulder, the only thing George could notice about them was the blue bandaid on your son’s temple.
You pulled away from his embrace a little, voice still a little shaky from the shock as you updated him on the well-being of your children, “She’s the best out of the three of us, basically completely unharmed. Little guy’s cut was from the impact…hitting just the right part of his carseat. I took the worst of it.”
George tore his attention away from the children to look back at you, finally getting a proper look at you up close. It was then that he noticed the bruising over your nose and down your right cheek and jaw, colouring your skin in purples and greens. His eyes trailed down your profile to where you held out your trembling hands, your right wrist wrapped in a bandage.
“Just a minor sprain,” you assured him before he could worry too much. You tried to make light of it with a soft, “The paramedic said it was likely from how hard I was holding onto the wheel when we were hit. She said it was like my ‘mama bear’ instincts took over, trying to keep control of the car the best I could.”
George pulled in a shaky breath and moved back in to hug you again if needing to feel you there, that you were really okay. Your arms smoothly wrapped around his shoulders as he pulled you close, both of you just holding onto each other for a moment.
“What happened?” George finally asked. He felt as though he had been keeping that question on the tip of his tongue since you had first called him, wanting to know but also wanting to save himself from knowing the cold hard truth.
You sniffled and pulled back just enough to look at him, although your eyes were downcast as if in shame, “Some idiot made a right turn at an intersection without looking. I braked and swerved just enough to not get entirely t-boned but he hit almost directly on the front driver's side. Hence,”
You held up your sprained wrist.
“Saved the kiddies though.” you mumbled.
George gently set a hand on your face and pulled you in to press a kiss to your head as if he could pour all his love into that simple action.
The power behind it had your eyes welling with tears and you whispered out a shaky, “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”
George tenderly trailed the back of his finger over your uninjured cheek to swipe away a stray tear, “What on earth do you have to be sorry about right now?”
“We took your C63.” you whimpered, another heavy tear dripping down your cheek, “It’s…so fucked. So, so fucked. I know how much you love it…how much you protect it and I didn’t think—”
“Shhh,” George hushed you softly, gently rubbing your biceps comfortingly as he stared into your tear-filled eyes, “The last thing on my mind right now is the car. I hadn’t once thought about the car since you called me. You, the kids…that’s all I care about right now. That’s all I care about ever.”
“Okay,” you choked out through a sob, lifting your hands to hide your face as you burst into tears in the middle of the hospital waiting room.
George’s arms encircled you and he pressed another kiss to your head, cradling you against his chest and surrounding you with his love and comfort. As much as he adored that car, he truly didn’t care about it in that moment as he held you in his arms. He had trusted you with it, knowing you were always a safe driver, but the one thing that he always knew was the scariest part of driving was that you can’t control what anyone else on the road does.
As he held you, he whispered words of reassurance to you, reminding you with a serious, “We can fix up a car…we can get a new car…but I can’t get a new you.”
His comfort had the damns breaking, causing you to let out your bottled up emotions into his neck with a sobbing, “I was so scared.”
His heart nearly broke at your confession and he rubbed his hand over your back, comforting you in the only way he knew how and the only way he could offer, “I know, my love. I’m here. I got you.”
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𝙶𝚛𝚒𝚍 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜 | 𝙼𝚅𝟷
𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: max verstappen x reporter!reader
𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: the one where max and his reporter wife accidentally adopt five chaotic rookies and become the unofficial grid parents
𝗺𝘂𝘀𝗶𝗰: sweet disposition - the temper trap
𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: none!
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・
The paddock was a hive of noise and motion as the sun began to dip over the circuit, golden rays catching the sweat on mechanics’ foreheads and the gleam of carbon-fiber wings. Post-race buzz hummed in the air—victory for some, frustration for others—but at the very center of it all stood the one woman who could command the attention of five energetic, half-exhausted rookies with nothing more than a look.
“You are not skipping cool down, I don’t care how much your legs hurt,” she said firmly, arms crossed as she stood just outside the Mercedes hospitality unit. “And Jack, stop trying to convince Gabriel to trade media slots with you.”
Jack Doohan blinked innocently. “Worth a try.”
Max, leaning a few feet away with his arms folded and an amused tilt to his lips, watched the scene with the same fondness someone might have when watching a cat try to wrangle five puppies. His wife—ever composed, ever commanding—had somehow become the gravitational center of the rookie pack, and Max had long since accepted his role as the silent co-pilot in their little operation.
“We need a whiteboard,” you muttered as Isack Hadjar arrived, hair still damp from his post-race shower. “I need a whiteboard. And a whistle.”
“You want a whistle?” Max asked.
“I want a bullhorn.”
Oliver Bearman arrived next, tugging off his cap and brushing sweat-damp curls back. “Are we doing interviews first or eating first? I swear I might pass out if—”
“You’ll eat after you give me one sentence that isn’t ‘the car felt good’ or ‘we take the positives,’” you cut in, tapping your iPad. “No bland quotes. I want actual thoughts.”
Gabriel Bortoleto offered him a protein bar from his pocket. “Here, you can survive five minutes.”
“You’ve had that in your pocket for two hours,” Oliver recoiled. “That’s like a biological weapon now.”
Kimi Antonelli, fresh from a P3 finish and visibly trying to act cooler than he felt, walked in just in time to see Oliver shoving the protein bar back at Gabriel like it was radioactive. “Children,” Kimi muttered under his breath.
Max straightened from the wall, clapping a hand lightly on Kimi’s shoulder. “Congrats, by the way. Good race.”
Kimi perked up at the rare praise from the four-time world champion, nodding once. “Thanks. Felt good after last weekend.”
Max didn’t say more, but the nod he returned carried weight—and Kimi caught it, posture squaring slightly.
You were already directing the boys into a loose circle outside the Red Bull hospitality tent, setting up for your impromptu group media debrief. The usual reporters had already swarmed them post-race, but yours was different—somewhere between an interview and a therapy session, half professional, half familiar. The boys trusted you. And Max… well, Max mostly observed, speaking when necessary, stepping in when the chaos got too loud or the mood shifted too dark.
Like now.
Isack had slumped onto the couch, jaw tight. He’d DNF’d—again. Three times in five races. The media had already started with the “overhyped” murmurs, and even though you hadn’t asked him to speak first, you noticed the way his leg bounced, eyes fixed on the floor.
You gave Max a look.
Without a word, he moved to sit beside the younger driver, not pressing, not announcing himself. Just… there. Solid. Real. Isack noticed, of course. Everyone did. It was rare for Max to show warmth like this outside the Red Bull bubble—but when he did, it hit hard.
“Tough race,” Max said simply.
Isack let out a breath. “Felt like I was driving blind. Car didn’t respond. Almost clipped the wall.”
“You didn’t.”
“But I might next time.”
“You won’t.”
There was no false encouragement in Max’s tone—just certainty. That unshakable Verstappen steel. Isack didn’t say anything, but his shoulders dropped a little, the tension leaking out.
You watched it happen, heart softening.
God, how had this become your life?
You—the paddock reporter who used to get mistaken for an intern. Max—the closed-off, stone-faced champion who’d once swore he’d never babysit rookies. And now here you both were: grid mum and dad, sitting on uncomfortable couches with five boys who had no idea how deeply they were cared for.
You cleared your throat. “Alright. Rapid-fire. Best moment of the race—go.”
“Overtaking Jack,” Gabriel said immediately.
“Hey!”
“Jack’s reaction, then,” Gabriel added.
Kimi smirked. “Probably my start. Got the jump on Piastri.”
“Oliver?”
“When I didn’t pass out from heat stroke on Lap 42.”
You nodded. “You hydrated?”
“Define hydrated.”
Max groaned. “You’re getting electrolytes now.”
“You sound like my physio.”
“I’m scarier than your physio.”
“He’s right,” you said. “He once threatened to throw Lando in a lake because he wouldn’t stretch properly.”
“It was a very shallow lake,” Max defended.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・
Two nights later, the paddock chaos traded its background of engine whines and pit lane screeches for the quieter hum of your home — though “quieter” was a stretch with five young drivers crammed into your kitchen like it was a race briefing gone feral.
“I’m telling you, the mushroom ones are not real tortellini,” Jack insisted, poking at a package of fresh pasta like it had personally offended him.
“They are,” you sighed, pushing him gently out of the way as you balanced two saucepans and a tray of garlic bread. “They’re gourmet.”
“Italians would riot,” Kimi muttered from the dining table, scrolling through his phone.
“Then they can come over and cook,” Max deadpanned from the stovetop, where he was fiercely focused on carbonara like it was an FIA directive.
“Do you actually know what you’re doing?” Oliver asked suspiciously, leaning over Max’s shoulder.
Max didn’t even look up. “I’ve watched like six Gordon Ramsay videos.”
“That’s not the same as cooking.”
“I beat two of you last week,” Max said, stirring the pasta. “You really want to test me on this, too?”
You hid your smile behind your wine glass. There was something inexplicably funny about watching your world-champion husband in sweatpants and socks, bickering with young adults over parmesan cheese.
And even funnier watching the rookies actually respect it.
Dinner, somehow, made it to the table in one piece — pasta, garlic bread, salad (which no one touched), and three types of fizzy drinks because “we’re not hydrating with water off-duty, Mum.”
Plates clinked. Conversation overlapped. Gabriel told a wild story about nearly missing a flight. Jack roasted Kimi for accidentally texting “love u” to his race engineer. Isack, now with a better result under his belt, looked lighter, laughing easily between bites.
It was loud. It was messy. It was perfect.
At one point, Max leaned back in his chair, just watching them. The dim kitchen lights caught in his hair, and his arm brushed against yours beneath the table.
“This is insane,” he murmured.
“This is our insane,” you whispered back.
Halfway through dessert (store-bought tiramisu because you were not a miracle worker), Oliver spotted the old Nintendo Switch docked to the TV.
“Oh hell yes,” he gasped. “Do you guys have Mario Kart?”
Max blinked. “Yeah, but—”
“I’m calling dibs on Yoshi,” Jack declared, jumping up.
“No fair! You always play Yoshi!” Isack protested.
You blinked. “Wait, you guys… actually want to play a game here?”
Gabriel grinned. “We’ve literally been waiting for an invite.”
Kimi, still cool as ever, shrugged. “Let them embarrass themselves.”
You stood with your empty plate. “Max hasn’t lost a Mario Kart game in five years. Good luck.”
“Five years?” Oliver echoed. “Challenge accepted.”
And just like that, a Mario Kart tournament was born.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・
Two hours, three arguments, and one broken Joy-Con later, the living room looked like a war zone.
Jack had screamed loud enough during one of the rounds that your neighbor’s dog had barked. Isack got so invested he’d physically ducked during a turn. Oliver tried to cheat by leaning over to press Gabriel’s buttons. Kimi sat straight-faced the entire time and still won twice. Without Max playing of course.
Max, of course, held his crown with quiet smugness, holding his controller like a weapon of war.
You sat curled up on the arm of the couch, watching it all unfold, your heart full.
Because they weren’t just rookies. They weren’t just kids with team uniforms and talent and pressure pressing against their ribs. They were yours in a way that no one outside this circle would ever really understand.
You remembered how scared Oliver had looked when he’d been called up mid-season. How Isack had cried quietly after his third crash. How Gabriel had pulled you aside after a brutal interview, asking, “Do I actually belong here?”
How Kimi — calm, quiet, composed — had once confessed during a late media day, “Sometimes I think I’m boring. Like I’ll never be more than a name.”
And you’d been there. Max, too. Quiet in different ways, but always present.
You looked over at Max now. He had his arm slung along the back of the couch, eyes focused on the screen but clearly aware of the way you were watching him.
“You’re soft,” you whispered.
He gave a low laugh. “Don’t say that in front of them. They’ll never let me live it down.”
You leaned in. “Too late. I already told Kimi you teared up during that baby penguin documentary.”
“You what—”
You pressed your fingers to your lips. “Shhh. Grid dad’s gotta keep his edge.”
From the floor, Oliver shouted, “Okay but seriously, can we do this every week?”
Jack added, “I’ll bring dessert next time!”
Isack: “I’m bringing my own controller. I don’t trust these ones.”
Kimi, dry as ever: “Just admit you suck.”
Gabriel, mouth full of more tiramisu: “This is better than half the sponsor events we do.”
Max gave you a look.
You smiled.
“Every week?” he repeated, voice low, wry.
You looped your arm through his. “Every week.”
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・
The door clicked shut on the last of them just before midnight, leaving behind only the echoes of footsteps, laughter, and a faint smell of burnt garlic bread.
You stood in the hallway, arms crossed, staring at the living room like it had personally betrayed you.
“Did Jack really spill soda on the couch again?” you asked, voice exhausted.
Max wandered in behind you, barefoot, rubbing the back of his neck. “At least he didn’t put the controller in the freezer this time.”
You blinked. “He what?”
“Long story.”
You groaned and collapsed onto the couch—carefully avoiding the suspiciously damp spot—and tossed your head back with a dramatic sigh. Max stood over you for a second, as if deciding whether to help clean or collapse next to you. Predictably, he picked the latter.
He sat with a grunt, thigh brushing yours. The room had settled into that warm, familiar silence that followed a day well spent—TV off, dishes drying, the chaos of earlier fading into the comfort of shared space.
“Do you ever wonder how the hell we got here?” you asked.
Max tilted his head toward you, brow raised. “Here as in… couch stained with soda and Mario Kart casualties?”
You gave him a dry look. “Here as in… being the unofficial grid parents to five emotionally chaotic, underfed children in motorsport.”
Max smirked and looked up at the ceiling. “Sometimes. But I think I’d miss it if it stopped.”
You fell quiet, surprised.
“I used to think I was done with caring about anything outside my races,” he added after a beat. “Media, the circus, the drama. But now…” He glanced sideways. “You care. So I guess I started caring too.”
Your throat tightened.
“You do more than care,” you said softly. “You show up. Even when it’s quiet. When they need something and don’t know how to ask for it.”
He looked at you for a long moment. “So do you.”
You leaned into him slightly, shoulder pressing to his.
There was a pause.
Then: “You think Oliver’s okay? He seemed distracted tonight.”
“Yeah,” Max said. “I caught him staring at his phone a lot. Could be pressure.”
“Or homesickness,” you said. “He mentioned something about his sister’s birthday.”
Max nodded. “I’ll talk to him at the track.”
You blinked. “You just volunteered for emotional labor.”
“I didn’t volunteer. I just said I’ll talk.”
“Which counts as—”
“Don’t.”
You grinned, sliding your hand into his. His palm was warm, calloused, familiar.
The two of you sat like that for a while. Just holding hands in a room that smelled like pasta and bad decisions, with a broken Joy-Con on the coffee table and your collective future somehow resting in the ability to balance mentorship, love, and motor racing chaos.
You hadn’t meant to become this. You hadn’t planned for the jokes about “grid mum and dad” to stick. But somewhere along the line—somewhere between media sessions and debriefs, late-night calls and race weekend dinners—it had turned real.
And despite all logic, it felt… right.
“I swear if Kimi calls me mum in public again, I’m walking into the ocean,” you muttered.
Max snorted. “I think he does it just to make you flinch.”
“I think he does everything just to make someone flinch.”
Silence again. Comfortable.
Then Max said, “You think they’re gonna be okay this season?”
You didn’t hesitate.
“They’ve got each other,” you said. “And they’ve got us.”
He nodded.
And that was it. That was the truth of it. The unspoken contract written in pasta dinners and post-race pep talks, quiet hallway chats and raucous living room tournaments. The family you never saw coming—but wouldn’t trade for anything.
Not even clean furniture.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・
The group chat was cursed.
You knew this the moment Jack renamed it “Grid Orphans Anonymous” and Kimi promptly changed it back to “Grid Children of Max & Mum.”
You groaned as the notification pinged at 2:12 a.m. on a race week.
Gabriel:
jack you absolute maniac you left your fireproofs in my hotel room
Jack:
I panicked! we swapped bags after the media thing remember???
also why is there a half-eaten protein bar in the pocket
Isack:
can we please just have one week without emergency?
Oliver:
guys max saw me spill my drink on the simulator
he didn’t say anything
just gave me the look
Kimi:
may God have mercy on your soul
You closed your phone and rolled over to Max, who was half-asleep and glaring at the ceiling like he could feel the idiocy through the walls.
“Tell me again why we let them have our numbers,” he mumbled.
“I don’t know,” you whispered, pulling the duvet up to your ears. “This is your fault. You made eye contact with Oliver once and now you’re legally his father.”
“They need a manager,” he muttered.
“They need a babysitter. A live-in one. With military training.”
Max exhaled. “I’m not old enough to be a dad.”
You rolled onto your side. “Max, you yelled at Gabriel for not bringing a jacket in the rain. And earlier today, you said the phrase, ‘You’ll catch a cold like that.’ You are thirty.”
He blinked into the darkness. “That’s not that old.”
“You also made Kimi take a nap before media day.”
“He was cranky!”
“Oh my God.”
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・
Two days later, at a sponsor event, it happened.
You were mid-conversation with a McLaren comms rep when you heard it—clear as day, across the crowd of journalists, VIPs, and crew.
“Hey, Dad, can I borrow your pen?”
Max visibly froze. The world slowed. Cameras clicked. PR reps turned.
Jack was holding out a Sharpie and looking at Max like nothing was wrong with the words he’d just said out loud, in front of dozens of people.
You slapped a hand over your mouth to keep from laughing. Max turned so slowly you thought his neck might snap.
“Don’t—call me that,” he said through clenched teeth.
Jack blinked. “But you are?”
“I’m not your dad, Doohan.”
Jack grinned, unbothered. “Sure, dad.”
You wheezed behind a camera rig.
Later, Max hissed in your ear, “He’s dead. I’m removing him from the will.”
“You’re not even his real father!”
“Exactly!”
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・
The final straw came at 7:04 AM on a blessedly rare day off.
The doorbell rang.
Twice.
Max, still shirtless and half-asleep, cracked the door open to find Oliver and Gabriel standing on your porch with smoothies and matching expressions of deep panic.
“…Why?” was all Max said.
“There’s a sponsor Q&A at nine,” Gabriel said. “They changed the location last night, and our hotel’s shuttle won’t get us there in time.”
Oliver held up a phone with the email. “We’re begging you. We didn’t know who else to call.”
Max looked like he aged ten years in five seconds. “Do I look like an Uber to you?”
You emerged in his hoodie and pajama shorts, took one look at the situation, and sighed like a saint.
“Get in the car,” you said. “No talking. If I don’t get coffee first, I’m leaving you in a parking lot.”
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・
Later that day, after the boys had been safely dropped off (with strict instructions not to text before 10 a.m.), Max and you sat in the Red Bull motorhome, sipping your respective drinks in complete silence.
Max finally spoke. “We could’ve had another cat.”
You snorted. “We have enough cats.”
“So?”
“I think you secretly like this.”
“I don’t.”
“You like being the dad.”
“I don’t.”
You leaned over and kissed the corner of his mouth. “You do.”
He didn’t argue.
Just laced his fingers with yours under the table, silent and soft.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・
Somewhere across the paddock, five rookies sent the same text to the same chat:
Oliver:
race weekend dinner at yours again?
Gabriel:
i’ll bring snacks if Max promises not to cook
Kimi:
i’ll win mario kart again. just letting you all know.
Isack:
we should do a team quiz or smth. losers do pushups.
Jack:
do we think mum and dad will ever realize they adopted us
You smiled at the messages as they came in.
Max didn’t even look up from his phone.
“They’re coming for dinner again, aren’t they?”
You grinned. “Yup.”
He sighed. “Fine. But if Jack calls me ‘Dad’ again, I’m unplugging the Switch.”
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・
masterlist
Classified Information
Pairing: Max Verstappen x Francesca Howard (Original Character)
Summary:
Liam Lawson tries to flirt with Red Bull’s new CTO.
Turns out, she’s Dr. Francesca Howard.
Also known as Max Verstappen’s wife.
And the mother of his son.
Oops.
Warnings and Notes:
....Poor Liam is really going through in this.
As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble
Liam Lawson liked to think he had good instincts.
They had served him well in his racing career—knowing when to attack, when to defend, when to push and when to back off.
But apparently, those instincts failed him spectacularly the day he walked into the Red Bull factory for his seat fitting and met Francesca Howard for the first time.
He had heard the name before, of course. Everyone in the industry had. Francesca Howard—brilliant, ruthless, and the woman who had taken over as Red Bull Racing’s Chief Technology Officer after Adrian Newey’s departure.
What Liam hadn’t heard, however, was that she was also absolutely stunning.
She stood near the RB21 chassis, tablet in hand, deep in conversation with a few engineers. Her tone was sharp but calm, confident without arrogance, completely in control of every discussion around her.
And, Liam noted, she had a hell of a presence.
He adjusted the sleeves of his hoodie, rolling his shoulders back. He was good with first impressions. No harm in introducing himself, right?
He took one step forward—
And suddenly, he felt a hand grip his arm like a vice.
“Nope.”
Liam turned, startled, to find Gianpiero Lambiase looking at him like he was the biggest idiot to ever walk into the Red Bull garage.
Liam frowned. “What?”
GP sighed heavily, like this was already too much effort. “Don’t do it.”
Liam blinked, confused. “Do what?”
GP nodded toward Francesca. “Whatever you’re about to attempt over there—just don’t.”
Liam scoffed. “I’m literally just introducing myself.”
GP leveled him with a look, looking at him like he had just tried to run slick tires in the rain. “And yet, I’m still telling you not to.”
Liam folded his arms. “Why? Is she scary?”
GP snorted. “Not to me.”
That wasn’t an answer.
Liam narrowed his eyes. “Alright, what’s the deal?”
GP sighed again, rubbing his temples like he was too old for this conversation. “Lawson. I know you think you’ve got game. But trust me—not this time.”
Liam tilted his head. “What, is she taken or something?”
GP didn’t even bother looking up from his laptop as he muttered, “Something like that.”
Liam hesitated, suddenly feeling like he was missing some critical piece of information.
But then he shook it off. How bad could it be?
“C’mon,” he said. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
GP sighed again, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “rookies never learn” before shaking his head.
“Fine,” he said, stepping back and folding his arms. “Do what you want. But when this backfires, I’m not saving you.”
Liam rolled his eyes and kept walking.
How bad could it possibly be?
At worst, Francesca Howard would roll her eyes at him and shut him down politely. No harm done.
So he straightened his shoulders and walked over.
He liked to think he was pretty smooth, after all.
Not in an arrogant way—just in a self-aware way. He had a certain charm, an easy confidence. People liked him. Women liked him.
What was the worst that could happen? Mild embarrassment? He’d survive.
So he walked up to Francesca Howard, clearing his throat as she studied something on her tablet.
“Miss Howard,” he greeted smoothly, flashing his most easygoing grin. “Liam Lawson. Figured it was time we officially met.”
She looked up, brow arching slightly, her expression somewhere between amused and unimpressed.
“Dr. Howard.”
Liam blinked. “Huh?”
Francesca tilted her head. “I have two doctorates. If you’re going to address me formally, at least get it right. Otherwise, you can just call me Francesca. It’s my name.”
Liam froze.
Two doctorates?
Two?!
He cleared his throat. “Uh. Right. Dr. Howard.”
Her smirk did not help his sudden feeling of impending doom.
Behind him, GP sighed loudly.
Liam could feel himself slipping.
Not in a physically tripping over a curb way—though, honestly, he wouldn’t put that past himself at this point—but in a mentally trying to keep up and failing spectacularly way.
Francesca Howard was too smart for her own good.
Or, rather, too smart for his own good.
And she knew it.
“So,” he started, recovering as best as he could. “Two doctorates, huh?”
She gave him a patient smile, the kind teachers gave students who had just asked an embarrassingly obvious question.
“Yes,” she said. “One in Aerospace Engineering, one in Physics.”
Liam nodded slowly, stalling for time.
“Right. Cool. Just… y’know, casual, two whole doctorates.”
Francesca smirked. “You only need one to replace Adrian Newey. I like to be thorough.”
GP, still lurking nearby, snorted loudly.
Liam ignored him.
“Well,” Liam said, shifting his weight, trying to regain some sense of control in this conversation, “I guess it’s a good thing we have the best of the best in charge.”
Francesca hummed, looking entirely unaffected. “I know.”
Liam blinked. “You know?”
“Yes.”
“No hesitation?”
Francesca shrugged. “Why would I hesitate? It’s a fact.”
Liam opened his mouth, then shut it.
Then opened it again.
Then shut it again.
There was no winning here.
Behind him, GP sighed loudly, shaking his head. “I told you, kid.”
Liam Lawson had officially lost control of this conversation.
Dr. Francesca Howard—too smart for her own good, owner of two doctorates, and completely unbothered by his attempts to charm her—had thoroughly handed him his ass in a simple conversation.
And now, he was trying to figure out how to exit gracefully without admitting defeat.
(There was no graceful exit. He was so screwed.)
But before he could say anything else, a new voice cut in.
“You’re making this too easy for her.”
Liam turned—only to freeze at the sight of Max Verstappen walking into the garage.
With a baby in his arms.
Liam blinked. What.
Francesca’s expression instantly softened, her entire demeanor shifting as she abandoned whatever she had been working on and zeroed in on Max and the baby.
“There’s my boy,” she murmured, ignoring Liam completely as she reached for the baby, lifting him easily into her arms.
Liam blinked. What the hell was happening?
The baby—who had Verstappen blue eyes and a suspiciously familiar frown—giggled, grabbing at Francesca’s hair.
“Did Papa bring you to see me?” she cooed, pressing a kiss to his tiny forehead.
Max, standing there with all the smugness of a four-time World Champion who knew exactly what he was doing, crossed his arms. “He missed you. You’ve been working too much.”
Francesca hummed, rocking the baby slightly. “That’s because someone keeps breaking parts, Maxie.”
Max did not look even a little guilty.
Liam, meanwhile, was still trying to process the absolute madness unfolding in front of him.
Papa?!
My boy?!
MAXIE?!
“What,” Liam said, voice slightly higher than normal, “the actual hell is going on?”
Francesca turned to him, just now remembering he existed.
She sighed but lifted her left hand, flashing a wedding band so obvious that Liam genuinely hated himself for not noticing it earlier.
Liam’s entire brain short-circuited.
“We’re married,” she said casually.
Liam choked.
“You’re—WHAT?!”“You’re—” He pointed between them. “Since when?!”
Max grinned, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “A while now.”
Liam turned back to GP, who looked entirely unshocked by this development.
GP sighed. “Tried to warn you.”
Liam needed a second.
No—he needed several seconds.
Because nothing about this situation made sense.
Dr. Francesca Howard—Red Bull’s new Chief Technology Officer, terrifyingly smart, and the owner of two doctorates—was married to Max Verstappen.
And, apparently, they had a whole baby together.
A whole baby.
Liam had spent months hearing rumors about who would replace Adrian Newey. He’d even done his research—looked into Francesca’s background, her achievements, the way she was basically a walking encyclopedia of aerodynamics and engineering.
But nowhere in his research had it said, Oh, by the way, she’s married to a four-time World Champion.
And definitely nowhere had it mentioned, They have a baby together, too.
Liam opened his mouth, then shut it. Then opened it again.
Then shut it.
Francesca, still holding the baby like he was the only thing in the world that mattered, raised an eyebrow. “You okay, Lawson?”
Liam pointed between her and Max, looking vaguely like he was on the verge of a breakdown.
“You—you—” he sputtered. “This—How did nobody tell me this?!”
Max, clearly enjoying every second of this, shrugged. “We don’t exactly make announcements.”
“You—” Liam gestured wildly at Francesca holding the literal Verstappen baby. “—You have a whole kid together!”
Francesca tilted her head, unimpressed. “Yes, Liam. That’s generally how it works when you’re married.”
Liam let out a strangled noise.
Max chuckled. “You thought you had a chance with her, didn’t you?”
Liam groaned, dragging both hands down his face.
GP, still entirely unshocked, clapped a hand on Liam’s shoulder.
“Lesson learned?” GP asked, smirking.
Liam exhaled sharply, looking so very done with this entire team.
“Right,” he said finally, voice still slightly higher than normal. “So, just to recap—”
He pointed at Max.
“Four-time World Champion, absolute menace on track, king of the grudge-holders.”
Max smirked. “Correct.”
Liam turned to Francesca.
“Chief Technology Officer, too smart for her own good, owner of two doctorates—”
Francesca looked far too amused. “Correct again.”
Then Liam gestured wildly at the baby.
“And now you—together—have a whole child?”
Francesca, unfazed, adjusted the baby against her hip. “Would you prefer we only had half a child?”
Liam let out a deeply pained groan.
Max chuckled. “You’re making this too easy for her.”
Liam ignored him and turned back to GP, who was completely unbothered, like he had seen this exact scenario play out before.
“You knew,” Liam accused.
GP snorted. “Obviously.”
Liam threw his hands in the air. “Does the entire team know?!”
Max shrugged. “The ones who pay attention.”
Liam pinched the bridge of his nose. “You know what? Forget it. I don’t want to know.”
Francesca, still holding the baby like Liam’s existential crisis was just background noise, turned to Max.
“I’m assuming you didn’t just come down here to break the rookie?” she asked dryly.
Max grinned. “No, I wanted to see you. And I think Joshua missed you.”
As if on cue, the baby—Joshua, apparently—made a happy babbling noise and patted Francesca’s face.
Francesca melted. “Oh, my love, I missed you too,” she cooed, kissing his forehead.
Max leaned down and kissed Francesca, quick and familiar, like it was second nature.
Liam immediately looked away.
“Right,” he muttered. “Nope. That’s enough for me today.”
Max pulled away, still looking far too pleased. “You sure? I could tell you how we met.”
Liam pointed aggressively at him. “Don’t. You. Dare.”
Max just laughed.
Liam exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down his face. “Okay. Fine. You win.”
Max raised an eyebrow. “We were playing a game?”
“I don’t know, Verstappen,” Liam muttered. “But if we were, you won.”
Francesca, still very much focused on her baby, hummed. “I always win.”
Liam shot GP a pained look. “Does she ever turn it off?”
GP snorted. “Nope.”
Max, smug as ever, leaned in slightly. “She’s always been this way, mate. You just had the misfortune of walking into it.”
Liam groaned. “I’m never gonna live this down, am I?”
Max grinned. “Not a chance.”
GP clapped a hand on Liam’s shoulder. “We’ll let this slide, since you’re new, but you might want to brush up on team dynamics before making a fool of yourself again.”
Francesca, finally tearing her attention away from her son, smirked at him. “You’ve learned an important lesson today, Liam.”
“Oh yeah?” he deadpanned. “What’s that?”
Francesca tilted her head, eyes sharp with amusement. “That I’m completely out of your league.”
Max let out a bark of laughter.
GP clapped a hand on Liam’s shoulder, offering zero comfort. “You’ll be fine, mate. Just... maybe do your homework next time.”
Liam shot him a deeply betrayed look. “You really let me dig my own grave, huh?”
GP shrugged. “I considered warning you. Then I didn’t.”
Liam groaned. “This is actual bullying.”
Francesca, clearly still amused, adjusted Joshua on her hip. “To be fair, you also called me Miss Howard.”
Liam winced.
Yeah. That had been a mistake.
“Right,” he muttered, shaking his head. “My bad, Dr. Howard.”
Max, absolutely no help at all, laughed.
Francesca pressed a kiss to Joshua’s temple before looking back at Liam, her expression turning mockingly sympathetic. “It’s okay, Liam. You’re not the first person to underestimate me.”
Liam groaned again.
“I wasn’t underestimating you,” he muttered. “I was just—” He gestured vaguely. “I don’t know! Trying to be nice!”
Max smirked. “By flirting with my wife?”
Liam turned bright red.
“Okay,” he said quickly, backpedaling so hard he could have reversed an F1 car. “I wasn’t flirting. I was just—” He waved a hand vaguely. “—being polite.”
GP snorted. “Sure, mate. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
Liam exhaled deeply.
Francesca, clearly having had her fun, glanced at Max. “I have a meeting soon. Can you take Joshua?”
Max nodded, easily reaching for the baby. “Of course.”
The moment Joshua was in his arms, he lit up, giggling happily as Max bounced him slightly.
Liam watched, still trying to adjust to this absolute fever dream of a reality.
Max Verstappen—the most intense, hyper-focused, emotionally guarded driver on the grid—was a whole dad.
And, somehow, it actually suited him.
Liam shook his head, still slightly dazed. “I need to sit down.”
Max chuckled. “You’ll get used to it.”
Liam seriously doubted that.
Francesca, still smirking, patted his shoulder. “Don’t take it too hard, Liam. You never stood a chance.”
Liam groaned.
Max grinned. “Welcome to Red Bull.”
omg its soo cuteee!!!🥺🥺
Hi ! Can i request some yoongi fluff :)
He Told Me My Fish Would Die
pairing; min yoongi x gn!reader
genre; fluff, crack, established relationship
warnings; none just a whole bunch of confused and smitten yoongs
w/c; 804
a/n; y’all know I had to do it at some point, and yes I know the song is out of order but it’s what worked with the plot so shush and don’t @ me pls and ty!! also, ty for the request anon pls send more soon. hope u enjoy <3
“…THE NEXT DAY, DEAD.” You sang with such gusto and dramatics as you stood in front of the couch staring at the tv. On cue you tilted your neck sideways mimicking what you saw in the movie. The next thing he knows you’re flailing backwards onto the couch with a hand over your forehead imitating passing out.
Sitting on the opposite side of the couch you just flopped on like a fish, elbow resting on the back of the couch with his head in palm, he doesn’t understand why you love this movie so much. But the song? Yes, he agrees. It’s cleverly catchy. He would never admit it to himself let alone out loud to you, but it was one of his favorite songs of the movie. He’s even debated about creating a personal rap for you with the beat for your anniversary coming up.
You sprung back up from the couch in a fervor, so quick it made Yoongi inwardly gasp with a hand over his heart, playfully glaring at the back of your head then letting out a quiet chuckle knowing what was coming next in your one man show. He decided to help you this time around by standing up and walking over to the light switch, flipping it down blanketing the living room in darkness besides the light coming from the tv.
Just in time as always, you grabbed your phone off the coffee table and quickly turned on the flashlight setting placing the light directly under your chin, giving your face an eerie glow. Perfect for your next favorite part of the song.
“A seven-foot frame, rats along his back. When he calls your name, it all fades to black.”
During the duration of the verse you creepily inched your way to Yoongi who returned to the couch making himself comfortable once again, this time clutching a big, fluffy pillow you picked out when you first moved in, anticipating what you were about to do.
“Yeah, he sees your dreams…”
Continuing with your eerie dance you then sprung into action, chucking your phone on the floor and made your move, which again, Yoongi anticipated. Diving for the rapper like a flying squirrel and landing on your what you thought to be unsuspecting victim, which in actuality was very much suspecting on his end. Body curling around his in a giant bear hug you yelled in such a loud voice that he’s sure the neighbors could hear you. And they were miles away.
“And feasts on your screams!”
Catching you effortlessly, making sure you didn’t hit your head on the back of the couch he wrapped his arms around your middle. Tightening said hold when you started wriggling around on his lap trying to get back up to finish the rest of the song. Alas, your attempts became futile when you noticed the look the rapper was giving you. One you’ve learned to love that made your heart swell with so much joy, if you died within the next few minutes (heaven forbid), you could die happy.
Yoongi stared into your eyes with such a love and adoration. A small smile curling at the end of his lips as he leaned in and kissed your forehead so delicately as if you were glass that could break at any second. He pulled away far enough to then switch his aim to your lips which you so graciously returned.
“You’re an idiot, but you’re my idiot and I love you. And I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life helping you with your theatrical needs to even more countless Disney films”. He vowed as he kept a serious look on his face that slowly cracked when he felt your whole body start to bounce from an impending laugh you were about to give.
Biting your lip, to keep yourself from laughing a little bit longer, you quickly grabbed his face in your hands and planted a big, sloppy kiss on his lips that you know he outwardly hated, but secretly loved and used the opportunity of shock and mock disgust he displayed to finally wiggle out of his hold back to standing up in front of him.
Winking at him, you turned around with a renowned flourish of your arms once again facing the tv, making it in time to finish the song with a dramatic pose.
“I never should’ve brought up Bruno!”
Hanging his head in playful disdain he let out a loving sigh and chuckled to himself, wondering how he got so lucky to find someone like you.
And then he stood up himself and started clapping so loud his hands started to hurt. Giving you your standing ovation you so very much deserved, watching as you bowed in front of him. And, he told himself, he would never fail to do. Cause you were his star. Just like he was yours.
Max finally gets his prize
Imola 2025
Warnings: you knew it was coming, it is finally here, fisting, come play, just Max being feral and entirely insane, and to any dutch people reading this don't hesitate to correct my shitty dutch lmao
One of the Boys Masterlist
Frantic.
That's how you would describe what happened after the race.
People were everywhere, the podium went by in a flash, media was a frenzy, everything was going too fast, and before you knew it you were being dragged into Max's car and driven to his hotel. You were all he could think about.
"You have no idea..." Max was breathless as he pressed you up against the door of his room, doing his best to get both his and your clothes off as quickly as possible. "how many times I've thought about this"
You could only nod, already overwhelmed by his hands seemingly all over your body at once.
"How many times I've thought about Brazil." he growled.
Max had indeed gotten off to the memory of that night more times than he could count.
The way your cunt had been stretched so much that he was able to slip inside you so easily... he didn't know why that of all things got him off so much, but it did.
He wanted to see that again, and this time be the cause of it.
He wanted to see you take anything he was willing to give.
He had lube prepared, after all the goal was to stretch you out, not hurt you.
He'd never do that... unless you asked him to.
But tonight wasn't that kind of night, tonight was about Max's crazy obssession.
You were laying on the bed, hips propped up with a folded pillow, and already you could feel sweat clinging to your skin.
For the first time, you were nervous.
Not in a bad way, it was just that you rarely tried anything new, nowadays.
Max had three fingers inside you already, easily fitted with the pehaps excessive amount of lube he was using.
"Still good?" He asked, voice cracking. He was almost as nervous as you were.
You huffed out a laugh. "It's three fingers, Max. I'll survive"
He pouted. "Okay, a fourth it is then..."
The extra stretch of his little finger slipping in next to the others made you gasp.
He was studying your face for any signs of discomfort, but all he could see was pure unbridled want.
He pushed in further, thrusting gently until the base of his thumb was blocking his hand from going any further. He pressed the fingers that were inside you into your g-spot, massaging it rythmically, and with his thumb rubbed harsh circles across your clit, almost too slippery with how wet you were.
"This... god, this is already so much" Max groaned as he watched your cunt stretching around the upper part of his hand. "Doing so good, schat..."
Max very rarely spoke in dutch to you, when he did it was your sign that his resolve and composure were definitely slipping.
"Max " you sighed, pleasure pulsing through your body in time with the insistent prods against your insides, and the need was rapidly growing inside you for more.
"Fuck-" the pressure on your clit was just right, and soon you were clenching around him as he drove you to your orgasm.
He didn't pull out once you'd come down through. He took advantage of the fact that you were loose and relaxed after your release, to tuck his thumb into you apply the slightest pressure.
Max knew he didn't have the biggest hands in the world, or even on the grid, but even his hands were big enough that you immediately felt the heavy stretch as your poor hole tried to accomodate him.
He was almost there, only a couple more centimeters before his knuckles would slip in...
You clenched and whined in slight pain at the intense pressure and he froze, retreating the slightest bit and staring up at you.
"You okay?" his voice was shaking, terrified of having hurt you. You just nodded and heaved in a breath.
"S'just a lot... go slow, okay?"
He nodded back at you, thrusting his hand in and out of you at a snail's pace, trying to stretch you out a bit before attempting the widest part of his hand again.
He couldn't help leaning down and placing a tender kiss on your clit to apologise. He didn't mean to be a bit over-eager, but this was like a dream coming true for him.
"Look so good all stretched out like this..." his eyes were trained on your puffy cunt pulsing around his hand, and as he pushed more of it in, he could feel his pants getting increasingly wet with the constant leak of precome.
He couldn't wait to be inside you later.
Once again, he got to the point where his knuckles were about to breach you, and he looked at you for signs of discomfort, but only found you with your head tipped back and your brow creased as you white-knuckled the sheets.
"Do it" you panted, a thin sheen of sweat covered your body, and the fact that Max was about to have his whole hand in you was making you clench in anticipation.
Max waited until you unclenched, before taking a breath and giving that last little push and...
Relief... pleasure, loud moans... your fluttering walls swallowed him down to his wrist, and he had to close his eyes or he would definitely come in his pants like a teenager.
Not that he ever did this as a teenager.
It was surreal for both of you.
You looked down, and it was almost unbelievable that something so big was currently fitting so perfectly inside you, and you wouldn't have believed it if not for the slight bulge in your stomach.
You noticed Max was breathing hard and had his eyes closed in concentration.
"Doing okay there, Max?"
"Yep" his tone was clipped, but the rasp in it told you exactly how much he was enjoying this.
"Look, Max." You took his free hand and placed it flat on your stomach "feel how big you are inside me..."
He whined, and finally looked at where, indeed, if he moved he could see and feel the slight bulge.
"Does it feel good?" He asked, his voice was hoarse and he looked like it was taking an inhuman amount of effort to not move too much.
"Yeah, fuck- you're like... I can feel you stretching me out" your body felt like lead, and your innards were burning with need. "Need you to uhh... you know."
He lifted a brow curiously. "What?"
"You know" you were becoming flushed at the attention. "Fuck me"
A small grin crept up on his face. "Fuck you? With my hand?"
His smirk was infuriating, you huffed and closed your eyes. "Yes, obviously"
"Then say it. Say you want me to fuck you with my hand."
You gulped. He sounded too cocky for his own good.
"I want you to fuck me with your hand. Please."
Gis eyes darted from your face to your cunt still stretched around his wrist, to your heaving chest.
"As you wish"
You weren't quite sure exactly what he was doing with his hand, but the pressure against your g-spot was exquisite, and the extrat stretch when he'd start to pull out knocked the wind out of you.
His mouth was on your clit, sucking and licking absentmindedly while he concentrated on using his impressive stamina to keep the movement of his arm steady and regular.
Your back was arched, and you took it all greedily as his pace increased, and soon you could feel yourself gushing around him as you came again with a loud cry of his name.
He slowly, very slowly, to savour the moment, pulled his hand out of you, and almost drooled at the way you were so stretched out you barely noticed, until you were completely empty and whined.
"Fuck"
You were gaping, puffy cunt clenching around nothing, but not fully managing to close completely with how wide it now was.
Max couldn't take it any more. He snapped.
He got rid of his pants, just pushing them down around his thighs and settled between your legs, crawling up to crash his lips against yours.
"Zo mooi " he groaned into it, lining himself up with you sopping entrance, and rubbed himself against it.
"Zo perfect" he gasped, finally sinking into you, all wet and trembling under him. You could barely feel him, yet somehow it felt so good to have him inside you like this, muttering nonsense as his hips slapped against yours while he chased his pleasure, groaning nonsense in your ear.
You could tell he was close by the pitch of his moans increasing and the rhythm of his hips getting sloppy, and you were almost sliding up the bed with the force of them.
With a final harsh thrust he moaned into your mouth "Allemaal van mij ", followed by a sound like a wounded animal as he came inside you.
He barely gave himself any time to recover before he was quickly pulling out and pushing your legs apart, intent on watching your combined mess leaking onto the sheets, cunt desperately trying to keep his come inside you, to no avail.
He looked so fucked out than you'd ever seen him, cheeks flushed and damp hair sticking out like he'd run his hands through it a hundred times, and he was mesmerised.
"This is the hottest thing I've ever seen" he panted, and you just looked up at him.
He was trailing his fingers through the mess, spreading it around your lips.
Then he put his fingers against your other lips, and you eagerly opened your mouth to suck on them.
You smirked and with some effort, managed to turn around onto your stomach, spreading your legs and arching your back to expose yourself to him. He just groaned softly and put his hands on you to spread you further.
"If you want a round two I'm certainly up for it. After all, you made all that space inside me, it would be a shame to not fill it up..."
His jaw dropped.
He crawled over you, already half hard cock nudging your entrance, threatening to slip inside you again as his face hovered next to yours.
"How much do you think you can take?"
He nipped at your ear, trailing down your neck, and sank his teeth lightly into your shoulder. That made your back arch even more, and the head of his cock slipped inside you.
"As much as it takes to tire you out"
He chuckled darkly, and pushed your upper body flat against the bed with a hand on the back of your neck.
"That's a dangerous offer... I'm not sure you're ready for that many rounds, schat..."
You could hear the vaguely threatening tone in his voice, accompanied by a teasing lilt.
"Do your worst, baby. Fuck me like a winner"
A TALE OF FAME
pairing ꪆৎ charles leclerc x ahaana patel ᥫ᭡. f1 driver x bollywood actress au
chapter ꪆৎ 1
summary ꪆৎ she's everything, and he just drives.
note ꪆৎ no hate to any characters used in the story, none of what i write reflects on how they actually are. all my love, happy reading.
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Ahaana Patel was an enigma wrapped in stardom. She’d emerged onto the Bollywood scene with a debut that was nothing short of explosive, pro shaking up the industry and catapulting herself into the hearts of millions. She featured in a movie of one of the most celebrated Indian directors, Karan Johar, alongside her costars Varun Dhawan and Sidharth Malhotra, and hasn't looked back since. It was a journey no one, least of all her academically fixated parents in Ahmedabad, could have foreseen. From their meticulously structured plans of engineering degrees and Ivy League aspirations to the glitzy chaos of movie premieres and magazine covers, her story was the epitome of unpredictability.
Now, twelve years later, Ahaana strode confidently through the paddock of the Chinese Formula One Grand Prix. Her steps were light, but her presence was impossible to ignore. The roar of engines, the sharp tang of gasoline, and the relentless buzz of the crowd enveloped her in a world she had come to know well over the years.
Dressed in attire that matched the casual coolness of the paddock air, a fitted white top and denim skirt. Her hair, perfectly styled despite the chaos of travel, swayed gently as she moved, her signature smile lighting up the faces of everyone she passed.
The first race of the 2024 season was underway, and the paddock was a symphony of excitement. Engineers tinkered with machines that cost more than most people earned in a lifetime, journalists scrambled for the perfect soundbite, and VIP guests mingled in their designer ensembles, trying to look like they belonged. Ahaana, however, didn’t need to try—she was a natural here.
“Ahi!”
The familiar Dutch accent cut through the cacophony, and Ahaana turned, her eyes narrowing playfully as Max Verstappen approached. Helmet in hand, the reigning world champion exuded confidence. His movements were deliberate, his gaze sharp, but the moment he saw Ahaana, his expression softened ever so slightly.
“Max,” she greeted, her voice laced with mock seriousness. “Are you ready to win, or should I start drafting my consolation speech now?”
Max rolled his eyes, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Your faith in me is touching. Truly inspiring. Maybe you should stick to Bollywood instead of doubting world champions.”
“And miss this circus?” Ahaana gestured grandly at the bustling paddock around them. “Not a chance.”
Their bond was one of playful banter and unspoken trust, forged in the early days of her association with Red Bull. At first, their interactions had been fraught with the awkwardness of two young professionals forced into photoshoots and promotional events. But as time passed, they found common ground in their shared struggles—both carried the weight of their fathers’ expectations and both were determined to carve their own paths. What began as reluctant camaraderie soon blossomed into a sibling-like relationship. Max truly saw Ahaana as a little sister, and always would.
“Where’s Kelly?” Ahaana asked, scanning the crowd for Max’s girlfriend.
“She’s around,” Max replied, shrugging. “Probably hunting you down.”
As if on cue, Kelly Piquet appeared, her presence as radiant as ever. Spotting Ahaana, she broke into a wide grin and pulled her into a warm hug. “Ahaana! I didn’t know you were coming today. Otherwise, I’d have brought P—she misses you.”
Ahaana beamed. “I miss her too. We’re calling her as soon as these boys start driving their toy cars.”
“Toy cars?” Max echoed, feigning offense.
Before Ahaana could retort, another familiar voice joined the fray.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Red Bull’s golden girl.”
Ahaana turned to see Lando Norris, the ever-charming McLaren driver, strolling toward them. His grin was as cheeky as ever, his orange, oh sorry papaya, jacket standing out starkly against the sea of Red Bull merch.
“Lando,” Ahaana greeted with mock disdain. “Lost your way from all the oranges. Here let me show you, its that garage with a mark that looks like a disfigured comma.”
“It’s papaya and you know it. You’re obsessed with me , aren’t you?” Lando shot back, slinging an arm around her shoulders. “Admit it—you came all the way here just to see me.”
“Oh, absolutely,” Ahaana replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Couldn’t resist the charm of McLaren’s poster boy.”
Max chuckled, shaking his head. “I can’t deal with both of you.”
The banter continued until race preparations called for Max and Lando’s attention. Kelly and Ahaana waved them off, heading toward the lounge.
The race was a spectacle, with Max clinching victory and Lando following closely behind in P2. The podium celebrations were a blur of champagne showers and roaring applause, but the real festivities began that evening.
The group—Max, Kelly, Lando, Carlos Sainz, Rebecca, Carlos’s girlfriend, and Ahaana—found themselves in a luxurious nightclub, the VIP section buzzing with energy. Neon lights danced across the room, the bass of the music reverberating through their bodies.
“Did you hear?” Rebecca leaned closer to Kelly and Ahaana, her voice conspiratorial. “Apparently, Alex cheated on Charles.”
Kelly’s jaw dropped. “You’re joking!”
Ahaana raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “How do you know?”
Rebecca shrugged. “Word travels fast in the paddock. Apparently, Charles tried to break up with her, but she keeps avoiding the conversation.”
“Classic denial,” Ahaana remarked, sipping her drink.
Kelly shook her head. “Why doesn’t he just cut her off?”
“He wants a clean break,” Rebecca explained. “But Alex is… persistent.”
The conversation shifted to lighter topics as the night wore on. Lando, ever the photographer, took candid shots of the group, earning playful protests from his friends.
By 3 A.M., the nightclub was still alive with energy, but Ahaana needed a breather. She stepped out onto a balcony, the cool night air a welcome contrast to the heat inside. The city lights stretched out before her, their glow reflected in the glass of the towering buildings.
She wasn’t alone for long.
“Hey, Ferrari,” she said, spotting Charles Leclerc leaning against the railing, a glass of whiskey in hand.
Charles glanced at her, his expression a mix of surprise and curiosity. “Do I know you?”
“Not yet,” Ahaana replied, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “But you looked like you could use some company.”
Charles chuckled softly, though the melancholy in his eyes remained. “Maybe I do.”
Ahaana joined him at the railing, their gazes fixed on the cityscape. For a moment, neither spoke, the silence between them comfortable.
“Rough night?” Ahaana asked eventually.
Charles hesitated before nodding. “Something like that.”
Ahaana studied him, her expression thoughtful. “You know, brooding doesn’t suit you. You should try smiling—it might just solve all your problems.”
Charles couldn’t help but smile, albeit faintly. “Is that so?”
“Absolutely,” Ahaana replied, her tone light. “But if you’re not ready to smile yet, I’ll settle for a drink.”
Charles handed her his glass without a word. She accepted it, taking a small sip before handing it back.
“Not bad,” she remarked, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
Charles looked at her, truly looked at her for the first time. The neon lights from the club painted her features in hues of pink and blue, her hair catching the faint breeze. There was something about her—an effortless charm, a warmth that drew people in.
“What’s your name?” he asked, his voice softer now.
“Ahaana,” she replied, extending a hand.
Charles took it, his grip firm but gentle. “Charles.”
“I know,” Ahaana said with a grin. “You ready to party now, Red?”
Charles chuckled, a genuine laugh this time, and downed the rest of his drink. “Lead the way.”
And just like that, the night took on a new energy, two strangers finding unexpected companionship amidst the chaos of flashing lights and thundering music.
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ᝰ.ᐟ first part! i know this isn't much, but i plan on writing more and this is just the start. i hope you aren't freaked out by the rather rustic writing and keep reading the chapters to come!
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tags @seonghwaexile @bookishprophecy @justadesirebel @peterholland04 @bakingpiastries @ricciardosheart @mikefaistgf @ho3smadd
comment to be added to taglist
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© weekendlusting
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Charles Leclerc x Verstappen!Reader
Max finds out that Charles is dating his sister
You and Charles have been in a secret relationship for a few months now. It’s been fun, sneaking around and sharing little moments that feel special just to the two of you. Today, Charles plans on surprising you with flowers and food from your favorite place. He’s headed to a flower shop in Monaco to get your favorite flowers, and he’s really excited about it.
As he picks out a beautiful bouquet, he suddenly hears a familiar voice. “Hey, Charles!” It’s Max Verstappen, your brother, not surprised at all since it's Monaco.
“Max! What are you doing here?” Charles asks, trying to act casual while holding the flowers behind his back.
“Just grabbing some coffee,” Max replies, eyeing the bouquet curiously. “Got a hot date or something?”
Charles laughs nervously. “You could say that.”
Max raises an eyebrow but shrugs it off. “Alright, man. Enjoy your date!” They exchange pleasantries, and Charles makes a quick exit, flowers in hand and now on his way to pick up your food, already imagining how happy you’ll be.
***
Later that day, Max decides to drop by your apartment. He walks in without even ringing the bell, and the first thing he notices is the vase of flowers sitting on the coffee table. His eyebrows shoot up. “Wait a minute…” he mutters to himself, remembering the same flowers he saw Charles holding.
Confused, he examines them closely, trying to figure out what’s going on. Just then, he hears some noise from the bathroom. Before he can call out to you, Charles steps out, wrapped only in a towel. He looks completely relaxed, totally unaware of Max’s presence.
Max’s jaw drops as his brain processes the scene. “Charles?!” he exclaims, pointing at him like he’s just seen a ghost. “What are you doing here?”
As soon as you heard your brother's voice you rushed to the living room.
Charles freezes, wide-eyed, and tries to pull the towel tighter around his waist. “Uh… I can explain?”
Max’s eyes dart between you and Charles, and he starts connecting the dots. “So you’re the one who’s been sneaking around with my sister?” Max had his suspicion that you are seeing someone but never figured out who.
You try not to smile at the situation but fail miserably. “Max, it’s not what it looks like!” you say, trying to act innocent while biting your lip.
Max crosses his arms, clearly protective. “Oh really? Because it looks like my sister is dating a Formula 1 driver in a towel!”
Charles stammers, “I promise it’s not weird. We were just—”
“Just what? Practicing your towel dance?” Max interrupts, raising an eyebrow.
Before Charles can answer, he accidentally takes a step back and—whoosh—the towel slips right off!
“Ah!” Max yells, covering his eyes. “I didn’t sign up for this!”
You burst into laughter while Charles quickly grabs the towel, trying to cover himself as best as he can. “This is not how I wanted you to find out!” he exclaims, looking mortified.
Max lowers his hands and shakes his head. “Well, I guess you really are dating my sister, huh?”
Charles, still red-faced, nods sheepishly. “Uh, yeah. I really care about her.”
Max sighs dramatically, pretending to be serious. “Alright, just remember—I have a reputation to uphold as the protective older brother. So if you ever break her heart, I will hunt you down, towel or not.”
Charles laughs nervously, finally relaxing a bit. “Deal. But I promise, I’m not going anywhere.”
With that, Max rolls his eyes, a small accepting smile breaking through. “Just put on some pants, man. Seriously.”
As you and Charles share a relieved glance, you can’t help but feel the weight being lifted off your shoulders. Now no more hiding your relationship from your brother.
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.
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