Hey guys, I want to try and start writing fics but I have no clue what you guys would like/be interested in reading. Please feel free to send in asks βΊοΈ
ββ¦I know you donβt need my comfort but Iβd like to think I can carry some of it for youβ¦if you want of courseβ¦β Is this how first dates usually end up? Who the fuck have I been going on dates with? Where did he spawn from?β
word count - 4.3k
summary - reader with unspecified chronic illness, general health anxiety, gentleman! Daniel, mentions of being uncomfortable around alcohol, food, prescription medication. suggestive of slight sexual tension and difficult health related conversations. fluffyyyyy.
"Girl I don't think I can do it..." you repeat on the now three hour FaceTime call to your best friend for what seems like the millionth time this evening.
"You can. And you will! You deserve this, more than anyone" she also repeats for probably also the millionth time.
You sigh and continue curling your hair.
It's your first date since your diagnosis 9 months ago, after two years of battling with debilitating symptoms, gaslighting doctors and pain medication that doesn't even scratch the surface. Not forgetting the tears, the tears cried and the hope lost that you'll ever be okay again.
You don't feel that you will ever be okay, but your friends can't stand to see you wallow in bed and accept your life passing by, and long story short that's how you matched with Daniel on some dating app they downloaded on your phone.
"Okay, my Ubers here" you shakily tell your friend through the phone, sat on your vanity. You smooth your long-sleeved black mini dress, pull at your knee high boots and adjust your bag on your shoulder.
"Do I look okay?" You ask, looking down the camera, stepping back and giving a spin.
"Breathtaking. Go get him girl" she smiles.
"I'll keep you updated" you pick up your phone, checking your lipliner in the camera.
"You have everything you need?" she checks. You know what she's referring to.
"Yep, meds...and backups..." you nod.
"Condoms?..." she smirks.
"Okay let's not get too ahead of ourselves" you laugh. you never even anticipated that being an option for tonight.
"Go on...go have some fun, you deserve it."
You hang up and take a deep breath, taking the lift from your apartment downstairs to your uber.
"Uber for y/n?"
The driver nods, you get in and take some deep breaths, taking a moment for yourself with the anxiety bubbling and the potential placebo of your body giving out on you at any point from now on.
The scenarios that play out in your head through the short drive are relentless, from him standing you up to something going seriously wrong within the blink of an eye during dinner and having to explain to Daniel...well...everything, and blowing your chance at something good happening to you for once.
It's those scenarios that scarily pass the time, and before you know it you're outside the restaurant, shakily closing the door to the uber and forgetting how this all works.
Do i go inside? Is he already inside? No iβm ten minutes early so he'll arrive any second...what if he's fifteen minutes early and already sat-
"Y/n?"
I jump and spin on my heel, there he is.
Good lord.
"Daniel hi!" You go on your tiptoes and wrap an arm around Daniel's shoulder, resting your chin on the other. He rubs his large hand over your back and his scent fills your nose, musky but floral.
God heβs tall.
"Shall we?" He gestures to the door, flashing a smile and you respond with a nod. A smile that's enough to make you forget all the scenarios and worries repeating in your head since you got out of bed this morning, well...afternoon.
He pulls your chair out for you, sitting opposite and tucking himself in.
"So! How are you?..."
There's the dreaded question. Lie.
"I'm really good! I've been really looking forward to trying this place out!" You smile and look around the low lit Italian restaurant.
"How have you been? You're home for the holidays?" You return the sentiment, picking up the jug of water to pour a glass for your drying mouth and Daniel doesn't miss the shake in your hand at its heaviness.
"Let me.." he takes the jug from you and pours you a glass, pouring himself one after. You smile as a thank you. You wait for him to question it, he doesn't.
"Yeah, yeah I'm home for Christmas and then back to it in January" he nods, taking a sip of water and kissing his teeth. You can't tell if it's awkward, you feel like he knows you're being standoffish, keeping your guard up or just simply thinks you're being a bit of a bitch.
He doesn't.
Sheβs breathtaking. I canβt stop looking at her lips, the sparkle of eyeshadow lighting up her eyes and how effortlessly her hair falls on her shoulders. Sheβs enchanting.
You also take a sip from your glass, it's like you've forgotten how to act and just copy him except you put your glass down and hold onto it, the coldness soothing your clammy palms.
"So what is it you do again...you're a racing driver?" You tilt your head, leaning forward on the table. His eyes crinkle into a smile as a chuckle escapes his lips and he nods.
God he's beautiful.
"Mhm, formula one...never heard of it?" His lip curls into a smile and you blush.
"By the sounds of it I should have..."
"No no not at all..." he shakes his head and leans back in his chair, resting his forearms on the table and tapping his fingers.
"It's not like it's the highest level you can get in motorsport or anything..." he shrugs, putting on an act of mock nonchalance and scratching the back of his neck.
You laugh, you actually laugh.
"Oh right! I'm sorry Mr. Bigshot! I suppose I better ask for your signature or something huh?" I tease.
He shakes his head, clasping his hands together under his chin and resting his elbows on the table.
"How about my phone number?"
Your heart flutters. Wow he's forward...wow.
You feel the heat creeping up your neck and onto your cheeks and look into my lap as a small laugh escapes your lips.
"Maybe..." you smile softly, before his eyes on yours grow that smile into one you haven't felt in a long time, an actual smile.
The waiter arrives, requesting our drinks order and placing the menus down in front of us. You gesture for Daniel to go first.
"Yep Uhm..." he glances at the drinks menu, before looking up at you.
"What you feeling?..."
Your heart skips and your hands go clammy.
"Oh go with whatever..." I nod and smile, he returns the expression.
"Do you have the uh...Chianti Classico? Red?...a bottle for the table please and a lasagna for me" Daniel glances up at the waiter, your eyes on his hands spread across the menu, holding it so effortlessly and his fingers dancing lightly over the print.
The waiter nods and takes note, looking at you.
"Oh could I uh...just grab a Coke Zero?" You say in a small voice, Daniel looks up at you.
"Would you like a different wine? Do you prefer white?" He opens the menu back up, worried he hadn't considered your taste.
You shake your head, not wanting to create something.
"No no! I'm okay...honestly..." I smile and nod, Daniel leans forward slightly.
"I don't mind driving you back? Or ordering you an uber or?..."
he doesn't get it, you can't expect him to...it begins.
Your throat feels tight and you wipe your palms on your dress, licking your drying lips and looking back at the waiter.
"I'll have a glass for the wine, and I'll just stick with the water on the side, oh and Uhm...the spaghetti bolognese please" I smile and nod, handing him the menu as he expressed he'll be back with our order.
As long as you drink it slowly...steady and slowly it'll be okay...it'll be okay...
Daniel looks at you, expectantly, but unsure of what exactly. You wait for him to pry, he doesn't.
"So what do you do?..." Daniel asks as the waiter returns with the wine, pouring into your glass and you stop him after just a a few glugs. Daniel accepts an actual glass of wine.
"I work in digital marketing and advertising" you leave out the details of it being remote, and part-time.
The conversation flows, the laughter bellows, your knees knock under the table and you feel fine...great actually. You try not to think about the three sips of wine you've drunk, and whether you'll have to skip your medication tonight and it comes easy because Daniel's presence doesn't leave you space to think of those things, not with that smile and almost honk of a laugh he has.
The food arrives, he's dramatic, eccentric, authentic.
"Oh wow you have to try" Daniel's eyes widen as he holds out his fork to you, with some of his meal on to try.
I glance at him, almost checking it's okay but the sparkle in his eyes with excitement to share this experience with me tells me everything I need to know. I giggle and shake my head, before scraping off the small bite from the fork with my teeth, closing my lips around the fork.
My eyes shut then widen.
"Wow..." I nod slowly, looking at my own plate.
"You definitely got the best dish...wait youβreβ¦sorry youβre not sick or anything are you?β You hesitantly check.
He shakes his head.
βFit and healthyβ¦you wonβt catch anything from me todayβ¦β he smiles.
That must be nice.
He gestures with his hand to give him some of your food to try, as if to test your claim.
You chuckle and shake your head. He's so easy to be around.
You gather some of your dish on your fork, holding your hand under it and moving it across the table to him, watching his lips close around it and his hand come up over his mouth.
"No way yours is so much better!" He exclaims with a laugh.
"Swap?" You offer, going to lift your plate. Daniel shakes his head.
"I can't take a beautiful girl to dinner and steal her food..." his laugh booms, it fills your chest and your ears and the blood rushes to your head and your toes and your fingertips.
"Share?" I suggest, tilting my head.
The two of you end up sharing both meals, laughing...obnoxiously, sharing stories, fingers brushing one another's on the table and by the end of the meal both leant in to the middle of the table. Like you can't breathe each other in enough. He's tantalising. He's too good to be true.
The waiter collects your plates, offering the dessert menu. You check the time on your phone.
21:30pm.
"Uhm...hmm I..."
"We'll have a glance..." Daniel smiles and nods, you appreciate him taking the pressure off as the waiter scurries away.
"No room for dessert?" Daniel pours some more wine into a glass, gesturing to yours to ask if you want some, you hold up your thumb and index finger with a small gap to suggest a little, he pours a little.
"It's just late...and...yeah I guess...yeah I'm not really a dessert girl-" you stumble and blush.
Fuck now you really look like you're trying to escape.
"Wait I...I'm sorry...I..." Daniel tilts his head at your apology.
"I have ice cream at mine? If you wanted to finish up here and maybe?..." you offered.
You didn't want Daniel to think you were trying to get out of the rest of dinner, because this was truly the best night you'd had in...well probably over a year, and typically by this time in the evening you'd taken your medication and were in bed, certainly not out on a date.
"That sounds perfect...if you're comfortable of course..." Daniel nods, you nod and smile.
"Of course."
Daniel pays the bill and you leave the restaurant, your arm linked in his and you uber back to your apartment, the second you unlock the door you remember the state you left the place in.
The blankets on the sofa, the hospital letters and documents strewn across the kitchen with prescription boxes you had been sorting.
"Oh god okay don't look!" You exclaim, going up behind Daniel to try cover his eyes with your hands.
"Okay nope too tall..." you mutter to yourself, he throws his head back and laughs, spinning around with his hands shoved in his pockets.
"It's fine..." he smiles.
"Okay..." you sigh,
"You come in here..." you drag Daniel into the living room, quickly tidying the blankets and fluffing the pillows.
"And don't move...I'll be two seconds!"
He laughs, spreading his legs and leaning back on the couch, his large hand on his thighs. You clear your throat before remembering he can see you staring, stepping off to the kitchen and trying to turn it into something that looks somewhat presentable. You grab two spoons and the three ice cream tubs from the freezer alongside the Nutella bringing them back into the living room and setting them down on the coffee table, finding Daniel observing the photos on your cabinets, tracing his slender fingers alongside your trinkets and general miscellaneous keepsakes.
"Can I get you a drink?" You blurt out, standing awkwardly. Daniel turns with that crinkly eyed smile, shaking his head.
"I'm good for now...thanks" he sits back on the couch and you join him.
"Nutella and ice cream?" He quizzes, leaning forward to grab a spoon.
"Yeah...it's kinda my comfort food..." I chuckle, unzipping my boots.
"No I love that...I like controlling the ratio..." he nods, looking over his shoulderΒ at you with a curl in his lip and glint in his eye.
Okay that look was definitely a moment.
He notices you struggling with your boots.
βWant me to?β He nods to your boots, holding out his hands for your foot.
You nod and lift your foot, he takes it in his hand effortlessly and the weight lifted is heavenly.
βMmm..β you involuntarily groan, your cheeks reddening.
Daniel turns to look at you with a smirk, his large hands still resting on your calf and knee.
βLong day on your feet?β
βCould say that..β you smile, as his fingertips move to the zip on your inner thigh and your breath hitches at the contact. He moves the zip down slowly, tenderly, you canβt take your eyes off his gaze on your leg, his attentiveness making your stomach flutter. He places the boot on the floor and gestures to your other leg, which you lift and sigh at the relief, he lets out a small chuckle.
Daniel rests his hands on your legs, as if to not let you put them back on the floor but not consciously, like he wants you to rest on him.
The two of you share ice cream, more stories, more laughter. Danielβs fingertips trace up your legs, not teasingly, gently. Rubbing the skin softly relieving tension you didnβt know you had.
βCan I just have a second?β
Daniel nods, you get up and head to the kitchen, popping out your medication for the evening and pouring a glass of water.
As you put the tablets on your tongue Daniel walks in with the tubs of ice cream, all in one handβ¦god his hands were huge.
βOhβ¦sorry Iβ¦β
I shake my head and swallow the tablets, turning around.
βNo noβ¦sorryβ¦I justβ¦β
βI just uhβ¦the ice cream was melting and uhβ¦yeahβ
I nod and take them from him, bending and putting them in the freezer, Daniel glances across the counter to your container of medication.
I turn back and smile.
βShall we go back through?β
The two of you head back to the living room, youβre keen to forget the awkward encounter, you know he wants to ask, but the answer will make him wish he never questioned it at all.
You sit back down next to Daniel, your legs curled up and your hand rubs your feet, those boots really did a number on you.
He notices, gesturing with his hand to take your feet.
βWant me to?β
You blush.
βGive me a foot massage?β You ask jokingly. He nods, seriously.
βIf you wantβ¦those boots didnβt look the comfiestβ¦beautifulβ¦but not exactly comfyβ he chuckles. You drape your legs over his lap.
βYou think theyβre beautifulβ¦β you snicker.
βYouβreβ¦beautiful I meanβ¦β he looks over at you.
God heβs smooth.
You smile and shake your head, watching as his nimble hands relieve the tension from your feet.
βMmmβ¦β you nod, closing your eyes.
βGood?β You can hear the smile on his lips.
βOh yeahβ¦β
Itβs quiet for a while, comfortable. you didnβt think on your first date in 9 months youβd be being given a foot massage on your couch at a measly 10pmβ¦but here you areβ¦and you didnβt expect to feel soβ¦normal about it.
βSo uhmβ¦β he begins.
Oh no.
βWhat was Uhmβ¦β Daniel gestures with his thumb to the kitchen.
βI meanβ¦like are you feeling okay?β He continues.
Greatβ¦and you spoke too soon because itβs about to go all wrong.
I shake my head, as if to brush it off.
βItβs nothingβ¦just some meds I have to take every now and againβ¦β
βAre you sureβ¦I mean I completely understand if you donβt wanna talk about itβ¦but Iβ¦look I really like you, and I wanna get to know youβ
You take the jump and open up. About your symptoms, your diagnosis and your daily life. Explaining how tonight was quite a big night for your journey with your health, as itβs the biggest thing youβve done for yourself in a while. How you didnβt want to tell him at the table about your situation with alcohol and medication and the complications of mixing the two.
βFuck Iβm so sorry I didnβt mean toβ¦pressure you or anythingβ
You shake your head, putting your hand on his arm which was still tracing on your leg.
βNoβ¦no please donβt be sorryβ¦you canβt have known itβs okayβ¦β
You continue with your story a little, leaving out the not so glamorous parts of the 2am breakdowns because nothing is cutting the pain, or the calling your best friend because you canβt get to the bathroom by yourself.
He listens intently, his eyes never leaving your lips as you ramble on, and his hands continuing their soft tracing of touches on your legs.
You take a breath, satisfied with how much youβve shared, until it feels like too much.
βIβm sorryβ¦I-β
βNoβ he cuts you off.
βI meanβ¦donβt be sorryβ¦thank-youβ¦β he continues.
βThank-you?β You chuckle.
He nods, scoffing slightly.
βYeahβ¦I mean that shitsβ¦that shits heavyβ¦you didnβt have to trust me with all thatβ¦yet you did. All of that and youβre still accommodating to letting people inβ¦itβsβ¦yeah youβre impressiveβ he nods.
βI wouldnβt say impressiveβ¦β
βIt isβ¦maybe itβs my own ignorance orβ¦I dunnoβ¦but if you hadnβt mentioned anything I wouldnβt have suspected a thing. I mean you go to hell and back dailyβ¦yet you still, show up, and smileβ¦and laughβ¦β Daniel drapes a hand over the back of the couch.
βIβm sure youβve been told before, and it might not mean much anymore when it seems like youβre fighting a losing battleβ¦but youβre strongβ¦like fuckβ¦I couldnβtβ¦β he shakes his head.
βWell unfortunately this shit just creeps up on youβ¦whether you can or notβ¦you donβt get a sayβ¦β
He nods.
βYouβre rightβ¦sorry Iβ¦β
βNo noβ¦you donβt need toβ¦comfort meβ¦Iβm not trying to be standoffishβ¦itβs justβ¦β
βNo I get itβ¦I mean no sorry I donβt get itβ¦I understand the principle of what youβre suggestingβ¦nothing I can say will make it better youβll still wake up tomorrow and do it all againβ¦β
Okay pinch meβ¦he gets it?
I lean my head on his arm thatβs draped behind me on the couch. Smiling at him. He smiles back.
βYour profile doesnβt do you justice you know that?β
He chuckles.
βNo?β He raises an eyebrow. You shake your head.
βYouβre gorgeousβ¦β you almost whisper. He scoffs and looks into his lap. He looks back at you, his hand lifting and his fingertips tousling with the hair at the back of your head.
βCβmereβ you whisper, gesturing for him to come closer. His hand moves up your leg, moving it to the side as he moves between your legs. Your hand finds the back of his head and you pull his face to yours as your lips meet, pulling him down onto the couch with you. His hand holds himself up by your head, as the other continues to move up your hip and waist, really holding you, his thumb rubbing over every curve and bone.
The kisses become breathless and heavy, your fingers tightening in his curls as your other hand grips his jaw, your noses knocking and his forehead on yours as he pulls away for air.
βAll that medical talk like foreplay for you ey?β He breathlessly chuckles. You giggle, before dreading the next expected development.
βDaniel Iβ¦β
βNot tonightβ¦I knowβ¦β he nods warmly.
βIβm sorry Iβ¦I just-β
βShh shh shhβ¦β he squeezes your hip, looking down at your plump lips and tucking some strand of hair behind your ear. you stare at his warm doe eyes and pink cheeks.
βJust thisβ¦this is okayβ¦youβre more than enough like thisβ¦β
You nod.
God he makes it impossible not to take him right here.
βIs that okay?β¦can I?β¦β he looks back down at your lips, taking your chin between his thumb and index finger, you nod.
You and Daniel spend some time like this, your lips on each others like teenagers, not testing the waters for something more but instead completely satisfied with it being just this for tonight.
It comes to Daniel leaving, heβs at your front door, flushed cheeked and bearing a shit eating grin.
You lean against the doorframe as he stands in the hallway.
βI had a reallyβ¦really good time tonightβ¦I really needed itβ¦β I smiled.
Daniel stood with his hands in his pockets, nodding.
βMe tooβ¦I really like youβ¦iβ¦yeah so if you wanna uhβ¦maybe do something again another time?β
βIβd love toβ¦reallyβ¦β you nod.
βYouβre choosing this timeβ¦theme park or movie night hereβ¦time and place Iβll be thereβ he smiles.
You nod, with a smile you know looks cheesy and giddy, but you donβt care. Youβre happy.
βCan Iβ¦get that number then? Or signatureβ¦Iβm sure I can show it aroundβ¦β you joke, he laughs, wellβ¦bellows, scratching the back of his neck.
βOh I uhβ¦I wrote my number on the post it in your kitchen earlierβ¦I was worried you wouldnβt wanna see me again so I thought when you didnβt call I could just tell myself you didnβt see the noteβ
You laugh and step forward, grabbing him by the shirt and pulling him into you.
βBelieve me I donβt want it to end hereβ¦β I look up through my eyelashes at him, his hands finding my waist and gripping tightly.
βMmβ he hums.
I tiptoe up and press a chaste kiss to his lips.
He nods.
βYeahβ¦yeah donβt let it end here pleaseβ¦βhe chuckles after his almost needy admission.
The two of you part ways, and you get ready for bed giddy, thinking of him and his gentle hands on your feet and calves but their harshness and neediness on your hips. The sound of his laugh and the taste of his lips tainted in your memory. The smell of him lingering in your apartment.
You send a quick text to your best friend.
βHeβs perfect. Deets tomorrow xoxoβ
She responds with a simple, βEEEK! Get it girl!β You laugh.
Sleep claims your body instantly as your head hits the pillow, for once youβre not dreading waking upβ¦for once.
Itβs just gone 11am, youβve been laying in bed for around an hour, just recuperating from last night when your doorbell goes, youβre not expecting a delivery.
You grunt as you push yourself up out of bed, padding barefoot and in an oversized T-shirt to the front door, unlocking and peering through the gap.
βHello?β
βMorningβ¦β
βDaniel?β I pull the door open further in shock, to reveal a hoodie, shorts and snapback clad Daniel, holding a brown paper bag and some coffees.
βI brought some foodβ¦ease you into today after last night? I can leave it with you or?β¦β
I shake my head.
βWhat?β¦Iβmβ¦what?β I chuckle out of shock.
βSorryβ¦I justβ¦I just thought with how much last night must have been for youβ¦I could bring you food so itβs one less thing for you to think aboutβ¦I know you donβt need my comfort but Iβd like to think I can carry some of it for youβ¦if you want of courseβ¦β
Is this how first dates usually end up? Who the fuck have I been going on dates with? Where did he spawn from?
You grab the food from him and place it on the counter, grabbing the pocket of his hoodie and dragging him inside, shutting the door behind him.
βWoah I-β
Daniel looks down at you, grinning, as your bodyβs pressed against his.
βWe could always pick up where we left off last night?β¦or justβ¦have breakfastβ¦β you shrug teasingly.
Daniel kicks off his shoes with a grin, bending down and pulling you over his shoulder.
βThis okay?β
You squeal a βyesβ, laughter ringing through your apartment as Daniel stands and carries you over his shoulder to your bedroomβ¦actual laughter.
βWe definitely have some unfinished businessβ he grins.
A/N: This is inspired by the song tightrope from the greatest showman and I use lyrics from the song as well, all rights relating to Tightrope go to the writer <3
Word count: 1.2k
ｑοΎβ’βΰ¨β‘ΰ§β⒠ｑοΎ
The paddock knew before they did. That was the truly embarrassing part. Not because Lando Norris was subtle; God, no. He was all easy laughter and wandering hands and champagne sprayed over anyone within range. Headlines followed him everywhere. McLaren golden boy spotted leaving Monaco club with model. Lando Norris linked to influencer again. F1βs favorite party prince strikes again.
And you? You barely spoke above a murmur.
You wore oversized cardigans in freezing paddocks and curled your fingers around tea cups like they were little lifelines. You smiled softly when people talked over each other. You sat quietly in the McLaren garage with headphones around your neck while mechanics bustled around you because somehow, despite your growing fame as a singer, you still looked like someone who apologized when another person bumped into you.
No one could figure out how the two of you became friends.
But somehow, after one charity gala and one awkward conversation about terrible airplane coffee, you became inseparable. And somehow, neither of you noticed the way you looked at each other. Although, everyone else did.
βOh my God,β Oscar muttered one afternoon, watching Lando practically trip over a tire barrier because youβd walked in wearing one of his hoodies. βThis is painful.β
Carlos leaned against the wall. βThey are in love.β
βThey are stupid,β Charles corrected.
Lando, meanwhile, was grinning too hard at something youβd whispered to him. You didnβt even realize you were still holding onto the sleeve of his fireproofs.
ｑοΎβ’βΰ¨β‘ΰ§β⒠ｑοΎ
It became entertainment eventually.
George started a betting pool.
Lewis claimed he was βstaying out of it,β while actively collecting evidence like a detective.
Max pretended not to care but once looked directly at Lando after he spent twenty straight minutes searching for you in a crowded afterparty and deadpanned: βYou know normal people just date, right?β
Lando nearly choked on his drink.
Because dating you? Impossible. You were too soft for him. Too gentle.
You wrote songs about moonlight and longing glances and oceans and quiet love that felt eternal. Fans called you ethereal. Untouchable. Sweet.
Lando lived in flashing cameras and neon lights and gossip columns. Girls draped themselves over him constantly. Models. Influencers. Actresses. Random women at clubs who wanted the photo more than him.
And every single time you saw it, you smiled politely and looked away before your chest could ache too visibly.
Because of course he didnβt love you.
You were justβ¦safe.
Comfortable.
A quiet little thing he liked keeping around between races and parties and women who actually belonged in his world.
Right?
Meanwhile, Lando watched every man who spoke to you like theyβd personally insulted him.
Watched interviewers flirt with you, watched fans call you βan angelβ, watched you sing with your eyes closed like your heart was too big for your body.
And thought:
There is absolutely no universe where someone like her could ever love someone like me.
So he kept going out.
Kept smiling for cameras.
Kept pretending the sick feeling in his stomach every time you quietly excused yourself from another party didnβt mean anything.
ｑοΎβ’βΰ¨β‘ΰ§β⒠ｑοΎ
Then you released Tightrope. The internet exploded within an hour.
Because while you never named anyone,
Some people long for a life that is simple and plannedβ¦
,the entire song sounded devastatingly like him.
The risk. The chaos. The fear of falling. The impossible kind of love that felt dangerous anyway.
The lyric videos flooded TikTok beside edits of you and Lando. Slow motion paddock clips. His hand hovering at your back. Your shy smile when he walked into rooms. The way he always looked for you first after races.
Even the drivers were losing their minds.
Charles sent Lando the Spotify link with no context.
Carlos sent:
BRO???
Oscar simply texted:
finally.
Lando listened to the song alone in his apartment at two in the morning.
Once.
Then again.
Then again.
And by the fourth time, his chest hurt. Because suddenly every lyric sounded less like fantasy and more like confession.
Iβd follow you to the great unknownβ¦
His mind replayed every moment heβd ever had with you.
You waiting up after difficult races, Your hand slipping into his when nobody was looking, the way your voice softened even more around him, the way you never cared when he lost only whether he was okay.
And thenβ
Will you catch me if I should fall?
Lando sat forward slowly.
Because oh.
Oh.
You thought he wouldnβt catch you.
You thought he was the kind of person whoβd let you fall.
Something inside him twisted painfully.
He thought about every headline.
Every stupid club appearance. Every girl heβd stood beside while secretly wishing it was you.
And suddenly he felt sick.
ｑοΎβ’βΰ¨β‘ΰ§β⒠ｑοΎ
The next race weekend was unbearable. The paddock buzzed with tension. Drivers watched like they were waiting for a live grenade to explode.
You arrived Friday morning tucked into a sweater, looking nervous the second cameras started shouting questions about the song.
You avoided all of them expertly.
But then you walked into McLaren hospitality, and stopped.
Because Lando was already staring at you.
Not smiling. Not joking.
Just staring like heβd finally seen something that had been in front of him the whole time.
Your breath caught.
The room went silent almost immediately.
Oscar physically dragged a chair backward to get a better view.
βYou wrote it about me,β Lando said quietly. Not angry. Almost stunned.
You froze. Every instinct screamed at you to deny it. Laugh it off. Pretend.
But Lando stepped closer.
And softer now, heartbreakingly soft, he asked βDid you really think I wouldnβt catch you?β
Your eyes burned instantly.
Around the room, six different drivers looked seconds away from losing their minds.
βOh my God,β Pierre whispered.
βSheβs crying,β Charles hissed back.
βSheβs ALWAYS crying,β Carlos snapped. βThis is different.β
You looked at Lando helplessly. βYouβre always with other people.β
His face crumpled so fast it hurt to see βBecause I thought you could never want me.β
The entire paddock collectively lost their sanity.
George actually smacked his forehead against the wall.
But you just stared at Lando. And Lando stared at you.
Two complete idiots finally understanding the same thing at the exact same time.
Then, quietly, he reached for your hand. Like he was afraid you might disappear.
βIβve been in love with you for ages,β he admitted. βI just thoughtβ¦ I donβt know. Youβre you.β
You laughed through tears. βThatβs not an explanation.β
βIt is in my head.β
βItβs a terrible head.β
βYeah,β he whispered, smiling shakily βProbably.β
Your fingers tightened around his.
And somewhere behind you, Oscar collected money from at least five different drivers.
You and Sirius are in dire need of a new coach just weeks before the Olympics. Remus is a former figure skating prodigy forced to retire after a career-ending injury. Though it's not smooth skating right away, those stiff Olympic village beds are dying to be broken in
+ find extra oneshots here!
A series that follows you-the assistant whoβs spent years surviving Max Verstappenβs impossible demands-and what happens when you quit, forcing the two of you to navigate new applicants and your feelings towards one another.
complete!!
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When I got a C in Art class even though I put everything into it, causing me to almost fail my other classes because I was so focused on my art, just for it to all be for nothing.
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