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Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ

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One Nice Bug Per Day
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he wasn't even looking at me and he found me

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Sweet Seals For You, Always

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@blaircedes
♥ blaircedes . com
🎹📞 ֗ ָ֢formula 1 lover ⁶³ 𖦹 ׂ 𓈒
𐔌 . ⋮ℐn new york i milly rock
FIC: PACING THE GRID
PACING THE GRID
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
@blaircedes
Masterlist
Episode 1: Left on Read
EPISODE 2: The Lucky Charm Theory
Episode 3-5: 𝓒oming Soon…
Pairing: Lando Norris x Jacqueline Leroux
Genre: fluff, banter, smau
Rating: general audiences (no mature content in this specific chapter)
Warnings: none
FIC: PACING THE GRID
PACING THE GRID
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
@blaircedes
Masterlist
EPISODE 1: Left on Read
Pairing: Lando Norris x Jacqueline Leroux
Genre: fluff, banter, smau
Rating: general audiences (no mature content in this specific chapter)
Warnings: none
comments:
kikagomes: so proud of you working so hard!!! 🥹 text me when you finish your next shoot!
pierregasly: Good to see you, Jacqui! Glad you survived the garage tour 👍
User1: she looks so elegant omg
User2: oh she’s actually an angel look at her
User3: wait she’s so pretty and looks so sweet 🤍
Narrative: The Busy Paddock Tour
"I still cannot believe your agency booked you for the entire race weekend," Kika said happily, keeping a protective hand on Jacqueline’s arm as they navigated the bustling paddock. "You must be completely exhausted."
Jacqueline offered a warm, genuine laugh, adjusting her media pass. "Honestly, Kika, I am running entirely on caffeine and adrenaline right now. But I really wanted to squeeze in this quick lunch break to see you guys. The energy here is incredible."
Pierre grinned, leading the way. "Since you’re finally here, you have to meet the grid. Come on."
Because Pierre was one of the most well-liked drivers on the grid, the walk was a social whirlwind. Their first stop was outside the Ferrari hospitality suite, where Pierre flagged down his former teammate.
"Charles! Come meet a close friend of ours," Pierre called out.
Charles Leclerc turned around, his usual polite smile widening as he stepped over. "Ah, hello! Nice to meet you," he said warmly, shaking Jacqueline's hand.
"Nice to meet you, Charles. Pierre speaks so highly of you," Jacqueline replied with an effortless, sweet charm. They chatted easily for a couple of minutes about the Monaco track conditions before Charles had to dash off for a engineering briefing, wishing her luck with her brand campaign.
Next, they crossed paths with Alex Albon outside the Williams garage. Alex was incredibly friendly, instantly joking around with Kika and asking Jacqueline about the chaotic world of high-fashion modeling compared to racing. Jacqueline was incredibly attentive, laughing along and asking him genuine questions about his weekend. She was entirely lovely to everyone she met—but to her, they were simply Pierre's friendly colleagues. There was no starstruck fluttering, no hidden agenda. She was just being a good friend.
"Alright, one last stop before we have to deliver you back to your manager," Pierre teased as they strolled toward the McLaren garage.
Leaning against a pristine flight case, chatting with his press officer, was Lando Norris. His neon-yellow cap was tilted backward, and he was mid-laugh until he noticed Pierre and Kika approaching with a new face.
"Look who decided to join the real world," Lando joked, stepping forward to greet Pierre with a quick handshake. His hazel eyes shifted to Jacqueline, his expression softening into an easy, curious smile. "Hey. I'm Lando."
"Hi, Lando. I'm Jacqueline," she said softly, offering a warm, sincere smile and a gentle handshake. "It's lovely to meet you."
"Lovely to meet you too. You're the model Kika hasn't stopped talking about all morning, right?" Lando asked cheekily, leaning back slightly, fully prepared to deploy his usual easygoing charm. "So, have they convinced you to support Alpine yet, or do you want to join a team that actually stands on the podium?"
Jacqueline let out a soft, amused giggle, but her answer was entirely grounded. "Honestly, I don't think I can pledge allegiance to anyone yet! I barely understand how the points system works. I’m just here working a campaign for the weekend, so my mind is completely trapped in wardrobe changes and lighting setups."
Lando blinked, a bit fascinated by how sweet and completely unfazed she was by the whole F1 spectacle. "Right. Work comes first, I get that. But surely you have time to watch the race on Sunday?"
Before she could answer, Jacqueline’s phone buzzed in her palm. She glanced down at the screen, an apologetic look immediately crossing her face. "Oh, that's my manager. My lunch window just closed—they need me back on the harbor set for the golden hour lighting."
She tucked her phone away, looking at Lando, Pierre, and Kika with genuine warmth. "I’m so sorry to cut this short. Lando, it was truly wonderful to meet you. Good luck with qualifying tomorrow. Pierre, Kika, I will text you the second my wrap-time is called tonight!"
With a final, sweet wave, she turned and hurried off through the paddock gates, her focus completely snapping back into professional mode.
Lando stood there for a moment, his easy smile lingering as he watched her walk away. She hadn't fished for an invite to the McLaren hospitality, she hadn't asked for a photo, and she hadn't lingered just because he was a top-three driver. She was just incredibly nice, incredibly hardworking, and completely out of reach.
"She's great, isn't she?" Kika smiled, noticing Lando’s quiet gaze. "But don't get any ideas, Norris. She works twenty-hour days and literally doesn't have a spare second for a dating life."
Lando didn't say anything, but as he pulled out his phone a few minutes later and found her Instagram profile, a quiet determination hit him. He hit the blue 'Follow' button.
Narrative: Qualifying Day Tension
Lando stared down at his phone in the McLaren drivers' room, a small smile playing on his lips. She hadn't said yes, but she hadn't said a flat-out no either. She was just entirely focused on her job, and there was something incredibly refreshing about that.
"Two minutes to session, Lando," his trainer called out, knocking on the door.
"Yeah, coming," Lando replied, locking his phone and sliding it into his pocket. He pulled his balaclava over his head and grabbed his helmet. Usually, his mind was 100% locked onto the apexes of the Monaco street circuit. Today, a tiny fraction of it was hoping to spot a tall, elegant girl in a luxury blazer standing behind the pit wall.
Meanwhile, over at the harbor shoot, the roaring sound of twenty F1 cars echoing through the city streets signaled the start of Qualifying. Jacqueline stood under a massive reflector screen, posing effortlessly for the flashing cameras. She looked stunning, professional, and completely composed—but every time a papaya-orange car sped past the barriers in the distance, her eyes involuntarily tracked it.
She wasn't looking for romance. She didn't have time for a boyfriend. But Lando's persistent, sweet friendliness was definitely starting to crack through her professional walls, just a little bit.
@jacquieleroix
Liked by lando, kikagomes, and 147942 others
comments:
kikagomes: MY GOD WHO ALLOWED YOU TO BE THIS GORGEOUS 😍🔥
pierregasly: Excellent dress choice, very respectful of the Alpine colors (black) 🤝
— jacquieleroix: @pierregasly haha it is purely coincidental Pierre I promise!
lando: congrats to the photographer because wow 👏
— User1: LANDO CHILL 💀
— User2: He is down so bad oh my god
— User3: @jacquieleroix please reply to him look at him trying his best 😭
Narrative: The Hotel Restaurant Encounter
The restaurant at the Monte Carlo Bay Hotel was draped in warm, golden lighting, filled with the quiet murmur of elite guests and the clinking of champagne glasses. Jacqueline sat at a corner table with Kika and Pierre, finally letting her shoulders drop after a grueling fourteen-hour shoot day.
"I'm telling you, the grip on the soft tires during Q3 was completely gone," Pierre was explaining to Kika, gesturing with his fork.
Jacqueline smiled, sipping her sparkling water. She loved listening to them, even if half the technical racing jargon flew right over her head. It was comforting.
"Speak of the devil," Pierre muttered suddenly, nodding toward the entrance of the restaurant. "Look who just walked in to celebrate his front-row start."
Jacqueline glanced over her shoulder. Walking in alongside his manager and a couple of McLaren team members was Lando. He had traded his team kit for a crisp white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his curls slightly damp and messy. He looked relaxed, a bright grin on his face as he scanned the room.
Then, his eyes landed on their table. More specifically, on her.
His grin softened into something a bit more genuine. He said a quick word to his manager, detaching himself from his group, and began walking straight toward their table.
"Keep it cool, Norris," Pierre teased before Lando even reached them. "We know you're only coming over here to steal our breadbasket."
Lando laughed, shaking Pierre’s hand and giving Kika a quick hug. "Shut up, mate. I came to say hi." He turned his gaze to Jacqueline, and for a split second, the cheeky, confident F1 driver seemed to falter. Up close, the black silk dress made her look utterly ethereal.
"Hey, Jacqueline. You look... incredible. Truly."
A soft, genuine blush dusted Jacqueline’s cheeks. She wasn't easily swayed by compliments, but the sincerity in his voice—completely devoid of his usual paddock bravado—was incredibly sweet.
"Thank you, Lando," she said softly, offering him a warm smile. "And congratulations on P2 today! I actually managed to catch the very end of your final lap on the monitor on set. You looked incredibly fast."
Lando’s face completely lit up. "Wait, really? You actually watched?"
"I did," she giggled, leaning back in her chair. "See? I'm learning."
"Wow. I'm honored," Lando smiled, rubbing the back of his neck, suddenly looking like a shy teenager rather than a global athlete. "So, does this mean you're officially a McLaren fan now, or do I need to win the actual race tomorrow to secure the contract?"
Before Jacqueline could reply, Kika cleared her throat playfully, a protective smirk on her face. "Don't push your luck, Norris. She’s an independent woman. You can't buy her loyalty with a front-row start."
"I'm just trying to negotiate," Lando joked, his eyes sliding back to Jacqueline, silently hoping she wouldn't pull away.
"I'll tell you what," Jacqueline said, her French accent dripping like honey as she challenged him with a playful twinkle in her eyes. "If you manage to keep that position—or better—tomorrow, I will officially consider wearing something papaya-colored to the next race. Deal?"
Lando’s smile widened into a full, breathless grin. He held out his hand to seal the promise. "Deal. You better start looking for a orange dress, Leroux."
Direct Messages: lando —> jacquieleroix
—
BLAIR RADIO 27: Check, check, 1-2... is this thing on? 🎤
a champagne shower for norris, a wrap on the luxury campaign for jacqui, and a neon-orange outfit currently being added to a digital shopping cart. the bet is locked in, and the afterparty is calling. See you guys in episode 2! my first smau hope you like it! next episode is already in the making. peace out! 🏎️💛
episode 2 coming soon (todaaayy)
episode 2 of pacing the grid is taking longer than i thought...
im js a girl
can i catch a break
♥ blaircedes . com
aisle 227: Masterlist
📁 MERCEDES
𝘎𝘦𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘦 𝘙𝘶𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘭 - 𝓒oming Soon…
𝘒𝘪𝘮𝘪 𝘈𝘯𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪 - 𝓣he Guarded Heart
MCLAREN
𝘓𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰 𝘕𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘴 - 𝓟acing the Grid
𝘖𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳 𝘗𝘪𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪 - 𝓒oming Soon…
FERRARI
𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘓𝘦𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘳𝘤 - 𝓒oming Soon…
𝘓𝘦𝘸𝘪𝘴 𝘏𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘵𝘰𝘯 - 𝓒oming Soon…
RED BULL
𝘔𝘢𝘹 𝘝𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯 - 𝓒oming Soon…
𝘐𝘴𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘏𝘢𝘥𝘫𝘢𝘳 - 𝓒oming Soon…
RACING BULLS
𝘓𝘪𝘢𝘮 𝘓𝘢𝘸𝘴𝘰𝘯 - 𝓒oming Soon…
𝘈𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘥 𝘓𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘥 - 𝓒oming Soon…
HAAS
𝘌𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘣𝘢𝘯 𝘖𝘤𝘰𝘯 - 𝓒oming Soon…
𝘖𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘦 𝘉𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘯 - 𝓒oming Soon…
ALPINE
𝘗𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘦 𝘎𝘢𝘴𝘭𝘺 - 𝓒oming Soon…
𝘍𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘰 𝘊𝘰𝘭𝘢𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 - 𝓒oming Soon…
WILLIAMS
𝘈𝘭𝘦𝘹 𝘈𝘭𝘣𝘰𝘯 - 𝓒oming Soon…
𝘊𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘰𝘴 𝘚𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘻 - 𝓒oming Soon…
ʚĭɞ ﹕𝓙𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗻𝗮𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 / 𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝘀 open
NICO INTERVIEWING LEWIS FOR HIS FIRST WIN WITH FERRARI ON THE TEN YEAR ANNIVERSARY OF THEIR CRASH IN SPAIN IS CRAZY WORK
FIC: PACING THE GRID
PACING THE GRID
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
@blaircedes
Masterlist
EPISODE 1: Left on Read
Episode 2: The Lucky Charm Theory
Episode 3-5: 𝓒oming Soon…
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅
Pairing: Lando Norris x Jacqueline Leroux
Genre: fluff, banter, smau
Rating: general audiences (no mature content in this specific chapter)
Warnings: none
comments:
kikagomes: so proud of you working so hard!!! 🥹 text me when you finish your next shoot!
pierregasly: Good to see you, Jacqui! Glad you survived the garage tour 👍
User1: she looks so elegant omg
User2: oh she’s actually an angel look at her
User3: wait she’s so pretty and looks so sweet 🤍
Narrative: The Busy Paddock Tour
"I still cannot believe your agency booked you for the entire race weekend," Kika said happily, keeping a protective hand on Jacqueline’s arm as they navigated the bustling paddock. "You must be completely exhausted."
Jacqueline offered a warm, genuine laugh, adjusting her media pass. "Honestly, Kika, I am running entirely on caffeine and adrenaline right now. But I really wanted to squeeze in this quick lunch break to see you guys. The energy here is incredible."
Pierre grinned, leading the way. "Since you’re finally here, you have to meet the grid. Come on."
Because Pierre was one of the most well-liked drivers on the grid, the walk was a social whirlwind. Their first stop was outside the Ferrari hospitality suite, where Pierre flagged down his former teammate.
"Charles! Come meet a close friend of ours," Pierre called out.
Charles Leclerc turned around, his usual polite smile widening as he stepped over. "Ah, hello! Nice to meet you," he said warmly, shaking Jacqueline's hand.
"Nice to meet you, Charles. Pierre speaks so highly of you," Jacqueline replied with an effortless, sweet charm. They chatted easily for a couple of minutes about the Monaco track conditions before Charles had to dash off for a engineering briefing, wishing her luck with her brand campaign.
Next, they crossed paths with Alex Albon outside the Williams garage. Alex was incredibly friendly, instantly joking around with Kika and asking Jacqueline about the chaotic world of high-fashion modeling compared to racing. Jacqueline was incredibly attentive, laughing along and asking him genuine questions about his weekend. She was entirely lovely to everyone she met—but to her, they were simply Pierre's friendly colleagues. There was no starstruck fluttering, no hidden agenda. She was just being a good friend.
"Alright, one last stop before we have to deliver you back to your manager," Pierre teased as they strolled toward the McLaren garage.
Leaning against a pristine flight case, chatting with his press officer, was Lando Norris. His neon-yellow cap was tilted backward, and he was mid-laugh until he noticed Pierre and Kika approaching with a new face.
"Look who decided to join the real world," Lando joked, stepping forward to greet Pierre with a quick handshake. His hazel eyes shifted to Jacqueline, his expression softening into an easy, curious smile. "Hey. I'm Lando."
"Hi, Lando. I'm Jacqueline," she said softly, offering a warm, sincere smile and a gentle handshake. "It's lovely to meet you."
"Lovely to meet you too. You're the model Kika hasn't stopped talking about all morning, right?" Lando asked cheekily, leaning back slightly, fully prepared to deploy his usual easygoing charm. "So, have they convinced you to support Alpine yet, or do you want to join a team that actually stands on the podium?"
Jacqueline let out a soft, amused giggle, but her answer was entirely grounded. "Honestly, I don't think I can pledge allegiance to anyone yet! I barely understand how the points system works. I’m just here working a campaign for the weekend, so my mind is completely trapped in wardrobe changes and lighting setups."
Lando blinked, a bit fascinated by how sweet and completely unfazed she was by the whole F1 spectacle. "Right. Work comes first, I get that. But surely you have time to watch the race on Sunday?"
Before she could answer, Jacqueline’s phone buzzed in her palm. She glanced down at the screen, an apologetic look immediately crossing her face. "Oh, that's my manager. My lunch window just closed—they need me back on the harbor set for the golden hour lighting."
She tucked her phone away, looking at Lando, Pierre, and Kika with genuine warmth. "I’m so sorry to cut this short. Lando, it was truly wonderful to meet you. Good luck with qualifying tomorrow. Pierre, Kika, I will text you the second my wrap-time is called tonight!"
With a final, sweet wave, she turned and hurried off through the paddock gates, her focus completely snapping back into professional mode.
Lando stood there for a moment, his easy smile lingering as he watched her walk away. She hadn't fished for an invite to the McLaren hospitality, she hadn't asked for a photo, and she hadn't lingered just because he was a top-three driver. She was just incredibly nice, incredibly hardworking, and completely out of reach.
"She's great, isn't she?" Kika smiled, noticing Lando’s quiet gaze. "But don't get any ideas, Norris. She works twenty-hour days and literally doesn't have a spare second for a dating life."
Lando didn't say anything, but as he pulled out his phone a few minutes later and found her Instagram profile, a quiet determination hit him. He hit the blue 'Follow' button.
Narrative: Qualifying Day Tension
Lando stared down at his phone in the McLaren drivers' room, a small smile playing on his lips. She hadn't said yes, but she hadn't said a flat-out no either. She was just entirely focused on her job, and there was something incredibly refreshing about that.
"Two minutes to session, Lando," his trainer called out, knocking on the door.
"Yeah, coming," Lando replied, locking his phone and sliding it into his pocket. He pulled his balaclava over his head and grabbed his helmet. Usually, his mind was 100% locked onto the apexes of the Monaco street circuit. Today, a tiny fraction of it was hoping to spot a tall, elegant girl in a luxury blazer standing behind the pit wall.
Meanwhile, over at the harbor shoot, the roaring sound of twenty F1 cars echoing through the city streets signaled the start of Qualifying. Jacqueline stood under a massive reflector screen, posing effortlessly for the flashing cameras. She looked stunning, professional, and completely composed—but every time a papaya-orange car sped past the barriers in the distance, her eyes involuntarily tracked it.
She wasn't looking for romance. She didn't have time for a boyfriend. But Lando's persistent, sweet friendliness was definitely starting to crack through her professional walls, just a little bit.
@jacquieleroix
Liked by lando, kikagomes, and 147942 others
comments:
kikagomes: MY GOD WHO ALLOWED YOU TO BE THIS GORGEOUS 😍🔥
pierregasly: Excellent dress choice, very respectful of the Alpine colors (black) 🤝
— jacquieleroix: @pierregasly haha it is purely coincidental Pierre I promise!
lando: congrats to the photographer because wow 👏
— User1: LANDO CHILL 💀
— User2: He is down so bad oh my god
— User3: @jacquieleroix please reply to him look at him trying his best 😭
Narrative: The Hotel Restaurant Encounter
The restaurant at the Monte Carlo Bay Hotel was draped in warm, golden lighting, filled with the quiet murmur of elite guests and the clinking of champagne glasses. Jacqueline sat at a corner table with Kika and Pierre, finally letting her shoulders drop after a grueling fourteen-hour shoot day.
"I'm telling you, the grip on the soft tires during Q3 was completely gone," Pierre was explaining to Kika, gesturing with his fork.
Jacqueline smiled, sipping her sparkling water. She loved listening to them, even if half the technical racing jargon flew right over her head. It was comforting.
"Speak of the devil," Pierre muttered suddenly, nodding toward the entrance of the restaurant. "Look who just walked in to celebrate his front-row start."
Jacqueline glanced over her shoulder. Walking in alongside his manager and a couple of McLaren team members was Lando. He had traded his team kit for a crisp white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his curls slightly damp and messy. He looked relaxed, a bright grin on his face as he scanned the room.
Then, his eyes landed on their table. More specifically, on her.
His grin softened into something a bit more genuine. He said a quick word to his manager, detaching himself from his group, and began walking straight toward their table.
"Keep it cool, Norris," Pierre teased before Lando even reached them. "We know you're only coming over here to steal our breadbasket."
Lando laughed, shaking Pierre’s hand and giving Kika a quick hug. "Shut up, mate. I came to say hi." He turned his gaze to Jacqueline, and for a split second, the cheeky, confident F1 driver seemed to falter. Up close, the black silk dress made her look utterly ethereal.
"Hey, Jacqueline. You look... incredible. Truly."
A soft, genuine blush dusted Jacqueline’s cheeks. She wasn't easily swayed by compliments, but the sincerity in his voice—completely devoid of his usual paddock bravado—was incredibly sweet.
"Thank you, Lando," she said softly, offering him a warm smile. "And congratulations on P2 today! I actually managed to catch the very end of your final lap on the monitor on set. You looked incredibly fast."
Lando’s face completely lit up. "Wait, really? You actually watched?"
"I did," she giggled, leaning back in her chair. "See? I'm learning."
"Wow. I'm honored," Lando smiled, rubbing the back of his neck, suddenly looking like a shy teenager rather than a global athlete. "So, does this mean you're officially a McLaren fan now, or do I need to win the actual race tomorrow to secure the contract?"
Before Jacqueline could reply, Kika cleared her throat playfully, a protective smirk on her face. "Don't push your luck, Norris. She’s an independent woman. You can't buy her loyalty with a front-row start."
"I'm just trying to negotiate," Lando joked, his eyes sliding back to Jacqueline, silently hoping she wouldn't pull away.
"I'll tell you what," Jacqueline said, her French accent dripping like honey as she challenged him with a playful twinkle in her eyes. "If you manage to keep that position—or better—tomorrow, I will officially consider wearing something papaya-colored to the next race. Deal?"
Lando’s smile widened into a full, breathless grin. He held out his hand to seal the promise. "Deal. You better start looking for a orange dress, Leroux."
Direct Messages: lando —> jacquieleroix
—
BLAIR RADIO 27: Check, check, 1-2... is this thing on? 🎤
a champagne shower for norris, a wrap on the luxury campaign for jacqui, and a neon-orange outfit currently being added to a digital shopping cart. the bet is locked in, and the afterparty is calling. See you guys in episode 2! my first smau hope you like it! next episode is already in the making. peace out! 🏎️💛
In the clurb we ALL speeding in the pit lane 🗣🗣🗣
FIC: THE GUARDED HEART
THE GUARDED HEART
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
@blaircedes
Masterlist
Pairing: Kimi Antonelli x Elena Schumacher
Genre: fluff, romance, comfort
Rating: general audiences/teen (no mature content in this specific chapter)
Warnings: none
Synopsis: Elena Schumacher knows exactly what comes with her last name: relentless paparazzi, endless comparisons, and a complete lack of privacy. To protect the fragile, beautiful thing she’s building with Mercedes’ brightest new prodigy, Kimi Antonelli, she insists on keeping their relationship entirely in the dark. No paddock appearances, no shared photos, no rumors.
But after a soft, late-night confession from Kimi the evening before the Grand Prix shifts everything, Elena realizes that some things are too beautiful to hide. Stepping into the roaring chaos of the Mercedes garage mid-race, she prepares to shatter a year’s worth of secrecy—and show the world exactly who she's cheering for.
——
The Mercedes garage was a symphony of controlled chaos. Pneumatic drills whined in sudden, piercing bursts, and a wall of monitors glowed with telemetry data—flickering lines of data tracking Kimi’s car as it tore around the circuit.
Tucked away in the back, leaning against the pristine telemetry desks, she adjusted the brim of her dark cap. You had slipped past the paddock paparazzi unnoticed, hiding behind a pair of oversized sunglasses. To the mechanics barking orders over the radio, you were racing royalty—the daughter of a legend. To Kimi, you were everything.
Your mind wandered back to twelve hours ago, tucked away in the quiet safety of his hotel room. You had been rambling, overthinking the mechanics of your secrecy, when Kimi had gently caught your wrist.
"I will hide us for as long as you need," he had murmured, his accent thick and his boyish gaze entirely unblinking, utterly sincere. "But you should know—I am proud of you. If the whole world found out tomorrow, I would just tell them I’m the luckiest guy on the grid. I don't want to hide you because I’m scared; I only hide you because I love you."
That was the catalyst. Those soft words had shattered your reservations. He deserved to be celebrated out in the open.
A deafening roar erupted from the grandstands outside, jolting her back to reality. The garage monitors flashed a brilliant, triumphant purple.
"P1, Kimi! Absolute masterclass, mate. P1!" the race engineer crackled over the radio.
The garage burst into absolute euphoria. Mechanics threw their arms up, cheering and embracing. Through the glass, you saw Kimi’s silver Mercedes pull into the pit lane, the car radiating heat and victory.
Kimi hauled himself out of the cockpit, stepping onto the nose of his car and beating his chest in pure, unadulterated joy. He scanned the crowd of mechanics flooding the pit wall, entirely unaware of the surprise waiting inside.
Slowly, you pulled off your cap, letting your hair fall loose, and stepped out of the shadows of the garage right toward the barrier. It was time to stop hiding.
The adrenaline in the pit lane was palpable, a thick haze of heat, rubber, and unadulterated triumph. Kimi leapt down from his car, practically swallowed whole by his mechanics in a flurry of ecstatic back-claps and high-fives. He was breathless, his face flushed and glistening with sweat as he peeled off his balaclava, a massive, boyish grin splitting his features.
He started guiding his way through the sea of fire suits toward the cool sanctuary of the garage, utterly oblivious to the camera lenses tracking his every move.
And then, his eyes swept across the crowd—and locked onto yours.
The breath hitched in his throat. For a fraction of a second, his brain flatlined, refusing to process that the girl standing right at the edge of the team barrier, your dark cap gripped in your hands and your hair catching the bright paddock lights, was actually you. You weren’t in Monaco. You weren’t watching from a private lounge. You were standing in the center of the Mercedes garage, completely exposed to the world.
A soft, knowing smile playing on your lips was all the confirmation he needed.
Kimi didn't care about the cameras. He didn't care about the whispers that were already ripple-effecting through the VIP guests nearby as they recognized your famous face. He ducked past his press officer, bypassed the television crews waiting for his post-race interview, and strode straight toward you.
"What are you doing here?" he breathed, his voice a gravelly, awestruck whisper over the roar of the grandstands.
"I told you," you said, stepping forward so there was no distance left between them, your eyes shining with pride. "I'm done hiding."
Kimi didn't hesitate. He hooked an arm around your waist, lifting you slightly off your feet as he pulled her into a fierce, desperate hug. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, the coarse fabric of his race suit pressing against you, smelling of Nomex, sweat, and champagne. He was trembling slightly—a mixture of the grueling fifty-lap race and the sheer shock of having her there.
"You are crazy," he mumbled into your skin, though the laugh bubbling in his chest betrayed him. He pulled back just enough to look at her, his hands resting gently on your waist. "The media... your dad... they are going to lose their minds."
"Let them," you replied softly, reaching up to brush a damp lock of hair from his forehead. "You just won the Grand Prix, Kimi. Let them talk about that."
A brilliant, breathtaking smile lit up his face—not the practiced smile he gave the sponsors, but the raw, uninhibited one reserved only for you. He leaned in, his lips pressing against yours in a sweet, lingering kiss that effectively shattered a year's worth of rumors and secrecy in a single second. Around them, the flashbulbs of the paddock photographers erupted like a wall of lightning, capturing the exact moment the sport's brightest prodigy and its most fiercely guarded secret became public knowledge.
But as Kimi rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed and his hands tightening around you, the rest of the world felt entirely irrelevant.
——
BLAIR RADIO 27: Check, check, 1-2... is this thing on? 🎤
hope u guys absolutely loved this chapter! writing kimi’s golden retriever energy and elena’s racing royalty vibe was so much fun. thnak you so much for reading my debut fic! lmk what u think in the comments, and get ready, because the next broadcast is going to be a wild ride. and im open for requests!