Authors Note: Welcome to my blog, dear reader. First things first: all stories on this blog will be Driver x Daughter!Reader. Please make sure that any requests you send fit within this concept. Requests outside of this theme won’t be accepted. (WAGs can absolutely be included in the stories.)
Thank you for understanding, and I hope you enjoy your time here ❤️
Here is my guideline if anyone has any questions!!
Summary: Oscar takes his three-year-old daughter with him to the Barcelona GP.
Requested: Yes/No
Authors Note: Hi everyone!!! I hope you enjoy this one. I decided to change my posts a but, so I'll only add if it was requested or not, if that's okay with everyone. If anyone wants to be specifically mentioned that this is their request, please let me know!!
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Barcelona is already loud by the time Oscar arrives.
Not loud in the dramatic sense—just constant. Forklifts beeping somewhere behind the hospitality units, radios crackling, a steady stream of voices overlapping as teams move through the paddock like they’ve done this a hundred times before. The sun is out, not aggressively hot yet, but warm enough that Oscar’s glad he chose a short-sleeve polo.
Yn’s hand is wrapped around two of his fingers, small and warm and a little sticky.
She’s wearing a pink dress with tiny white flowers and trainers that light up faintly when she walks, which she has already tested several times. On her other arm, slung proudly like important luggage, is a small pink suitcase with wheels. Oscar is carrying it now, because five minutes ago she got tired.
“Papa,” she says, tugging his hand. “They have tables.”
“I see them,” he says calmly.
They’re heading toward one of the cafés tucked between motorhomes. A few drivers are already there, coffees half-finished, sunglasses on, posture relaxed in that very specific way that only happens before a Friday session.
Lando sees them first.
“Oscar!” he calls, pushing his chair back slightly. “Mate—whoa. Is that Yn?”
Yn looks up immediately at her name, stops walking, and squints at the group like she’s assessing a situation.
“That’s Lando,” Oscar says quietly. “You remember him.”
“He has funny hair,” Yn says.
Lando laughs. “I’ll take it.”
Max turns around in his chair, coffee in hand. “Hey,” he says, nodding at Oscar, then down at Yn. “Morning.”
Carlos lifts his sunglasses slightly. “Hola, pequeña.”
She lifts her chin. “Hola.”
Ollie, sitting half sideways on his chair, smiles. “She’s getting tall.”
“She’s not,” Yn says flatly.
Oscar huffs a small laugh. “She hears that a lot.”
Lando gestures toward the empty chairs. “Come sit. We’re just killing time.”
Oscar hesitates for half a second—then nods. “Alright.”
He pulls a chair out, lifting Yn up easily and settling her onto the seat. She sits properly for about three seconds before twisting around to look at the pink suitcase.
Oscar places it at her feet.
Her eyes light up immediately.
“Oh no,” Lando says, already grinning. “What’s in there?”
Yn doesn’t answer. She clicks it open with both hands, very focused.
Inside is a small, well-organized collection of pretend makeup. Plastic brushes, fake compacts, a tiny mirror that’s been smudged by fingerprints. It’s clearly been used a lot.
Carlos leans in slightly. “Is that makeup?”
“It’s mine,” Yn says, pulling out a brush.
Oscar shrugs lightly. “She’s been into it lately.”
“Since Lily?” Max asks.
Oscar nods. “Yeah. She watches her get ready and wants to copy everything.”
Yn taps the brush against the edge of the suitcase like she’s thinking.
“She does this every morning now,” Oscar adds. “Even if we’re not going anywhere.”
“That tracks,” Lando says. “Honestly, same.”
Yn looks up suddenly at Oscar. “Papa.”
“Yeah?”
She tilts her head. “Do I look nice?”
Oscar doesn’t hesitate. “You always look nice.”
She frowns slightly. “But now.”
He studies her face like it’s a serious question. “You look great.”
Max nods. “Very professional.”
Carlos adds, “Muy elegante.”
Ollie smiles. “Best dressed at the table.”
She seems satisfied by this, nodding once before turning back to her suitcase.
Lando watches her for a moment. “She’s scary focused.”
“She’s like that,” Oscar says quietly. “Once she starts, that’s it.”
Sure enough, Yn climbs down from the chair without asking and walks over to Oscar, standing between his knees.
“Sit still,” she says.
Oscar immediately places his hands on his thighs and stays still.
Lando raises an eyebrow. “You just… listen?”
Oscar glances at him. “Always.”
Yn reaches up very carefully and dabs the brush against Oscar’s cheek. It’s gentle, almost reverent.
“There,” she says.
She switches sides, repeating the motion.
Carlos watches, smiling softly. “You’re lucky.”
Oscar hums in agreement. “I know.”
She steps back to inspect him, hands on her hips.
“You’re pretty,” she says simply.
Oscar’s mouth curves into a small smile. “Thanks.”
Max takes a sip of his coffee, looking amused. “Looks like you’re race-ready.”
Yn nods seriously. “He needs help.”
“Apparently,” Lando says.
She climbs back onto her chair, satisfied, and returns to rearranging her kit.
The conversation slowly shifts back to normal things—track conditions, how hot it’s supposed to get later, how busy the weekend will be.
“Barcelona’s always a bit of a grind,” Carlos says. “But I like it.”
“Yeah,” Oscar agrees. “Car feels okay so far.”
Yn interrupts, not looking up. “Papa is fast.”
Max smirks. “That’s true.”
“But quiet,” she adds. “Not loud-fast.”
Lando laughs. “That’s actually… very accurate.”
Oscar glances down at her. “Quiet-fast?”
She nods. “Like this.” She makes a smooth hand motion through the air.
Carlos chuckles. “She gets it.”
Yn closes her suitcase and pushes it slightly toward Oscar’s foot.
“Done,” she announces.
Oscar picks it up. “All finished?”
“Yes.”
He stands, lifting her down easily and settling her against his side.
“We should go,” he says. “Practice soon.”
Lando waves. “Good luck, mate.”
“Bye,” Yn says, already half distracted.
As they walk away, Oscar feels that familiar calm settle back in—Barcelona buzzing behind them, his daughter humming softly beside him, pink suitcase swinging lightly in his hand.
Hello, can I request maybe Lando where he tries to keep his daughter very private and she walked in during a stream? Daughter can be any age (but maybe 5 years old would be interesting)
Streaming Chaos [LN4]
Summary: During a Twitch stream, Landos five year old daughter accidentally walks in and shows the whole world her face.
Authors Note: Hello, everyone. Please enjoy this story, and thank you for this request. I honestly struggled a bit with this story, so please be kind!
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Lando had been live on Twitch for almost forty-five minutes, laughing and joking with his fans as he went through his latest racing simulator setup. He had just finished a lap on Monaco and was teasing about how “maybe this time he wouldn’t crash into the wall in turn one,” when the chat started to go wild.
“Chat, calm down, I know I’m a disaster, but seriously—”
The chat didn’t calm down. Messages scrolled so fast they were barely readable:
“WAIT—WHO’S THAT???”
“IS THAT… HER???”
“OMG I THINK SHE’S RIGHT BEHIND YOU.”
“LAN—LOOK BEHIND YOU!”
Lando frowned, squinting at the chat, trying to follow the flood of messages. He rubbed his eyes. “What are you all talking about? Who’s behind me?”
But just as he turned back to his keyboard, he heard it. The softest, tiniest footsteps he’d ever known.
“Papa!”
Lando froze mid-laugh. His heart jumped. That voice… that little voice. It could only be one person.
He whipped around just as his five-year-old daughter bounced into the streaming room, her cheeks flushed pink from the cold and excitement, her curls bouncing. She was wearing a little yellow jacket with a cartoon cat stitched on the pocket and tiny sneakers that squeaked faintly on the hardwood floor.
“Yn,” he breathed, almost like a whisper, and immediately pulled her into his arms. He hugged her tight, pressing her small body to his chest, trying with every ounce of energy to block her from the camera. “Shhh, hey, it’s okay, baby, Papa’s got you.”
The chat exploded. The fan comments became a chaotic mix of excitement, shock, and pure adoration:
“OMG OMG OMG HER FACE!”
“LAN… THAT’S YN??”
“I CAN’T BELIEVE WE JUST SAW HER—THIS IS ILLEGAL BUT I LOVE IT”
“THE CUTEST THING I’VE EVER SEEN”
Lando’s hand flew over the mute button, silencing his microphone before anyone could hear his panicked voice. Then, almost fumbling, he shut the camera off. His chest was still pounding, and he could feel the warmth of Yn’s tiny body shaking slightly against him, either from excitement, the cold, or sensing his panic.
He lowered her carefully onto his lap, one arm still protectively around her. “Hey, hey, baby girl. Did you have fun at the park?” he asked, forcing his voice to stay calm and light, like nothing at all had happened.
Yn giggled, brushing a curl from her face. “Papa! Maria let me feed the ducks! And I went really fast on the slide and I didn’t even fall!”
“You didn’t?” Lando’s voice softened with relief, trying not to shake as he listened. He let himself exhale slowly. “Wow, that’s my brave girl.”
She leaned into him, talking quickly as kids do when they’re excited. “And we played on the swings, and I made a new friend! Her name is Sophie! She has a dog named Biscuit, and he’s really cute!”
“That’s amazing,” Lando said, keeping his eyes on hers and blocking her little body with his arms, even though he had already ended his stream. “Sounds like a perfect afternoon.”
Yn giggled again, looking up at him with her big green eyes, completely unaware of the storm she had just caused online. “Papa, did you see me swing high? I was so high I almost touched the clouds!”
“You were? That’s incredible, baby,” he said, smoothing her hair down. He couldn’t stop thinking about the Twitch chat, the cameras, the millions of people who had just seen her face. He tried to push it down to focus only on Yn.
Yn chattered on for another five minutes, telling him about every little detail. The pigeons, the way Maria had packed her snack, how she thought Sophie’s dog was funnier than her own stuffed dog. Lando nodded along, laughing gently at the moments that made her light up, while his mind was half running through every PR strategy he could come up with.
Finally, Yn leaned against him and yawned, still talking in a tiny, sleepy voice. “Papa, can we play later? Can we draw and-”
“Of course, baby, we’ll play later.” Lando pressed a kiss to the top of her head, trying to calm the panic still rattling through him. He reached for the stream of messages that had been paused on his second monitor, but he forced himself to ignore them. Right now, Yn’s world mattered more than his career, more than the internet, more than anything.
He stood slowly, keeping her tucked against him, and whispered, “Come on, let’s get you back to Maria.” Yn’s hand slipped into his, and he carried her toward the doorway where her nanny was waiting. Maria looked at him with a soft, knowing smile.
“She had fun?” Maria asked quietly.
“Yes, she had the best time,” Lando said, his voice steady. He gave Yn one last squeeze and handed her to Maria. “Good job, baby. Papa’s proud of you.”
Yn waved, completely unbothered by the chaos she had inadvertently caused, before running off with Maria to put her things away.
Once the door clicked closed, Lando sank back into his chair, his chest tight. He took a few deep breaths before picking up his phone and dialing his PR team.
“Hey,” he said, voice low and serious, almost trembling despite his calm façade. “Yeah… it happened. She was on stream. I know. Listen—I don’t care how long it takes. Take down every photo, every screenshot, every post. Don’t let anything stay online. No exceptions. I don’t care if it costs a million; make it disappear.”
There was a pause on the other end, then a voice reassured him. “We’ll handle it, Lando. Don’t worry.”
Lando exhaled slowly, gripping the edge of his desk. He felt like his heart had been through a blender. Yn was safe, happy, unaware of what had just happened, and yet the world had just gotten a glimpse of his little girl.
He leaned back, closing his eyes briefly. “Okay. Okay, just… calm down. Everything’s fine. She’s fine. That’s all that matters,” he muttered to himself.
The next few minutes were a blur of messages, notifications, and calls from his team confirming they were taking care of it. Lando didn’t look at his phone for long, instead choosing to sit back and imagine Yn at the park, her tiny fingers gripping the swing chains, her laughter echoing in the wind.
Finally, he leaned back in his chair, letting himself relax a little, though the adrenaline still hummed under his skin. He pressed a hand over his face, rubbing his eyes. Then, quietly, almost to himself, he whispered, “No one is seeing her face. No one. Not ever.”
It was hard to keep his voice steady, but he forced it. Yn didn’t know how fragile he felt. She only needed him to be Papa, strong and calm, just like every day.
Later that evening, after Yn had gone to bed and Maria had quietly left, Lando finally allowed himself a moment to breathe. He sat in the dim light of the streaming room, looking at the black camera, and imagined the chaotic Twitch chat, the millions of comments, the sudden flood of attention.
“IT’S YN!”
“LANDO YOU MONSTER HOW COULD YOU NOT INTRODUCE HER EARLIER???”
“STOP HIDING HER SHE’S PERFECT”
“FIVE YEARS AND FINALLY…”
He shook his head, smiling despite the panic that lingered. Five years. He had kept her safe, hidden from the world for five precious years, and now… now one small mistake had changed everything.
And yet, despite everything, he knew it hadn’t changed what really mattered. Yn was happy, Yn was safe, Yn was his.
He whispered softly, almost like a prayer, “My girl… I’ll protect you forever.”
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew the internet would be relentless. There would be photos, screenshots, rumors, maybe even video clips, but he didn’t care. Tonight, Yn had been home, telling him about her day at the park, smiling, laughing, and completely unaware of the chaos she had caused. That was enough. That was all that mattered.
And as he shut down his computer and walked slowly to her room to peek in at her sleeping form, he felt a calm he hadn’t felt all day. Yn was safe, she was his, and no number of fans or cameras would ever change that.
Please I need some Girl dad alex albon. I don't even care what it is! Maybe with Uncle George featured
Pretty Heels [AA23]
Summary: Yn is going through her running phase, which drives Alex wild. Thankfully, George has the perfect solution.
Authors Note: Hope you all enjoy this as much as I did. Thank you for this very open request.
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The paddock was alive in that specific way it always was on a Friday morning—engines humming in the distance, radios crackling, people walking fast with purpose while pretending not to panic.
Alex stood just outside the garage, sunglasses perched on his head, coffee in one hand, the other firmly holding onto a very small, very energetic four-year-old.
Yn.
She had curls that refused to behave, big curious eyes, and the unstoppable confidence of someone who had only recently discovered she could run. And run fast.
“Okay,” Alex said, crouching slightly to look her in the eyes. “You stay right here. Right. Here.”
Yn nodded solemnly.
“I promise,” she said, placing a tiny hand over her heart.
Alex squinted. “That sounded suspiciously confident.”
She grinned.
Behind them, Charles leaned against a barrier, Lando was mid-rant about something technical, George was half-listening while scrolling through something on his phone, and Carlos was sipping water, relaxed as always.
“This is the calm before the storm,” Carlos said, nodding toward Yn.
Alex sighed. “You have no idea.”
Lily had gone to a media thing—just half an hour, she’d said. Famous last words. So Alex was on dad duty, which usually wasn’t a problem.
Except for the running phase.
They were mid-conversation when it happened.
A squirrel—bold, fluffy, completely unaware of the chaos it was about to cause—darted across the edge of the paddock.
Yn’s head snapped up.
“SQUIRREL,” she announced, voice full of awe.
Alex barely had time to process the word before she slipped her hand out of his and bolted.
“Oh no—Yn—YN—”
She was fast. Alarmingly fast for someone whose shoes still lit up when she walked.
“YN!” Alex shouted, immediately sprinting after her.
Lando burst out laughing. “She’s gone!”
George looked up, eyes wide. “Is she - oh my god, she’s fast.”
Charles pointed. “Left! She went left!”
Yn zigzagged toward the squirrel, arms flailing, giggling like she’d just unlocked a secret level of life.
“I’M GONNA PET IT,” she yelled.
“You are NOT PETTING THE SQUIRREL,” Alex called back, heart pounding as he closed the distance.
The squirrel vanished under a barrier.
Yn skidded to a stop, confused for exactly half a second—long enough for Alex to scoop her up.
He held her against his chest, breathing hard.
“Absolutely not,” he said, laughing despite himself. “You cannot just run after wildlife.”
Yn pouted. “But it was cute.”
“I know. That’s how they get you.”
The others had gathered around them now.
Carlos grinned. “So this is the running phase.”
Alex nodded grimly. “This is the running phase.”
Lando crouched in front of Yn. “You know you gave your dad a heart attack, right?”
She tilted her head. “What’s a heart attack?”
Alex immediately said, “We don’t need to explain that.”
George smiled softly. “She’s fearless.”
“She’s four,” Alex said. “She has no concept of consequences.”
Yn wrapped her arms around Alex’s neck. “I sorry, Daddy.”
That did it. He melted instantly.
“It’s okay,” he sighed. “Just—no more running.”
She nodded again, very seriously.
The group went back to talking, Yn now sitting on Alex’s hip, fiddling with the zipper of his jacket.
And then—
A bird.
She pointed. “BIRD.”
Alex tightened his hold preemptively. “No.”
George laughed. “She’s like a puppy.”
“I swear,” Alex said, rubbing his face, “I look away for two seconds and she’s chasing something with a tail.”
George hesitated for a moment, then spoke up. “Hey. I can help.”
Alex looked at him. “You’re serious?”
“Yeah,” George said easily. “I’ve got time. And I can run faster than a squirrel.”
Yn gasped. “You can?!”
George smiled at her. “Definitely.”
Alex thought about it for a second. A Williams meeting was coming up. Lily wasn’t back yet. And George genuinely looked eager.
“You sure?” Alex asked.
“Absolutely.”
Alex shifted Yn toward him. “Okay. But rules.”
Yn immediately protested. “I want Daddy.”
“I know,” Alex said gently. “But Daddy has to go talk about boring grown-up things.”
George took her carefully, settling her on his hip.
“You’ll hang out with George, yeah?” Alex said. “No running.”
Yn considered this.
“Okay,” she said. “But only if he doesn’t let me pet squirrels.”
George laughed. “Deal.”
Alex handed over her tiny backpack, crouched to kiss her forehead, and pointed a finger at her. “Be good.”
She saluted him.
As Alex walked away toward the meeting room, he glanced back once.
George was already talking animatedly to Yn, pointing at something in the distance. She was laughing.
“Good luck,” Lando called after Alex. “You’ve just outsourced chaos.”
Two hours later, Alex emerged from the Williams meeting mentally exhausted and emotionally ready for coffee.
He stepped into the paddock again and immediately scanned the area.
No Yn.
His heart jumped.
“George?” he muttered.
And then he saw them.
Walking toward him.
Slowly.
Very slowly.
Yn was holding George’s hand, taking careful little steps like she was crossing a tightrope. On her feet were the prettiest little lilac play heels Alex had ever seen—sparkly, slightly too big, and absolutely impractical.
Alex stopped dead.
“What,” he said faintly, “is happening.”
George noticed him and waved. “Hey!”
Yn looked up, saw Alex, and beamed.
“Daddy!” she said proudly. “Look!”
Alex walked toward them, eyes fixed on her shoes. “Why are you… dressed like you’re going to a gala?”
George shrugged. “She found them.”
“Found them where.”
“Someone’s hospitality unit,” George said. “She said they were calling to her.”
Yn nodded. “They sparkly.”
Alex crouched in front of her. “Baby, you can’t run in those.”
George grinned. “That’s the best part. She can’t run at all.”
Yn took another careful step, arms slightly out for balance.
“I’m walking,” she announced. “Like a princess.”
Alex stared at George.
“You did this on purpose.”
George held up his hands. “You said no running. I adapted.”
Alex laughed, shaking his head. “I leave you with my child for two hours and you turn her into royalty.”
Yn stepped forward again, very slowly, very carefully.
“No running,” George said gently. “Remember our deal.”
She nodded. “Running is dangerous in heels.”
Alex blinked. “She said what.”
George leaned closer. “She’s very wise now.”
Alex picked her up gently, inspecting the shoes. “You okay?”
She nodded enthusiastically. “George holded my hand the whole time.”
George smiled. “Didn’t let go once.”
Alex stood, heart full in that quiet way that sneaks up on you.
“Thank you,” he said sincerely.
“Anytime,” George replied. “She’s… kind of amazing.”
Yn wrapped her arms around Alex’s neck. “George says I’m not allowed to run anymore.”
Alex chuckled. “Is that so?”
“Yes. Only walk. And only sparkle.”
Alex kissed her cheek. “I think I can live with that.”
Lily appeared moments later, stopping short when she saw Yn’s shoes.
“…Why does our child look like she’s about to attend fashion week.”
Alex grinned. “Long story.”
Yn held up one foot proudly. “I didn’t run.”
Lily laughed, shaking her head. “Honestly? That’s a win.”
George gave a small bow. “Mission accomplished.”
And for the rest of the afternoon, Yn stayed exactly where she was - walking slowly, carefully, hand in hand with anyone who offered - sparkling lilac heels clicking softly against the ground.
No squirrels were harmed.
Alex’s heart rate returned to normal.
And George was officially promoted to trusted anti-running accomplice.
Hi hi I was wondering if I could please request a fic with Charles where he always has a hard time saying no to his little daughter and any time he has to it ends up with her being really upset and kinda throwing a tantrum and then maybe when that happens she’ll always run to Alexandra and won’t talk to Charles and he has to try to pacify her into talking to him again
Tantrums
Summary: The one thing that Charles absolutely despises to do is saying "No" to his daughter.
Authors Note: Enjoy the story, and thank you for this lovely request!
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The afternoon sun spilled through the wide windows of the Monaco apartment, painting warm rectangles on the wooden floor. The place was quiet in that rare, precious way that only existed between naps and dinner. Charles was on the couch, legs stretched out, his phone forgotten on the cushion beside him as he watched his daughter play.
Yn sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by a kingdom of stuffed animals. A small plush bear wore a plastic crown. A rabbit was tucked into a teacup. She hummed softly to herself, tongue poking out in concentration, dark curls falling into her eyes.
Charles smiled without even realizing it.
She looked so much like Alexandra it still caught him off guard sometimes. The same expressive eyes, the same dramatic little sighs. But then she’d scrunch her nose or tilt her head just right, and there he was again, staring at a tiny mirror of himself.
“Papa,” Yn said suddenly, without looking up.
“Yes, mon cœur?”
“Bear is sick,” she announced seriously. “He needs ice cream.”
Charles let out a small laugh. “Ice cream makes sick bears worse.”
Yn frowned at him, finally lifting her gaze. “No. Ice cream fixes everything.”
Alexandra, who was leaning against the kitchen counter with a coffee, snorted softly. “She might be onto something.”
Charles raised an eyebrow at her. “You’re not helping.”
Yn scrambled to her feet, bear clutched to her chest, and toddled over to him. “Papa, please,” she said, eyes already going wide. “Just a little ice cream. For Bear.”
Charles hesitated.
It was mid-afternoon. Dinner wasn’t that far away. And if there was one thing he was terrible at, it was saying no to her. Alexandra always teased him about it, how he’d fold the moment Yn smiled or pouted or simply looked at him with those eyes.
But today, he told himself. Today, he’d be strong.
“Not right now,” he said gently. “We can have ice cream after dinner.”
Yn blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Her mouth trembled.
“No,” she said, voice small but firm.
Charles leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Ma vie, it’s almost dinner time. Ice cream later, okay?”
“No later,” Yn insisted, her grip tightening on the bear. “Now.”
Alexandra straightened slightly, sensing the shift in the air.
Charles reached out, brushing a curl away from Yn’s face. “I promise. After dinner.”
For a brief moment, it looked like she might accept it.
Then her lower lip pushed out.
Her eyes filled.
And then-
“No!” she yelled, startlingly loud for such a small person. “I want it now! You’re mean!”
The word hit him harder than he expected.
Alexandra set her coffee down and took a step closer, but she didn’t intervene. She knew this dance well. They both did.
Charles stayed calm, though his chest tightened. “Papa’s not being mean,” he said softly. “I just want you to eat your dinner.”
Yn’s face crumpled completely then. She stomped her foot once, twice, and let out a wail that echoed through the apartment.
“I don’t like you!” she cried.
And then, just like that, she turned and ran.
“Maman!” she sobbed, arms reaching up as she barreled into Alexandra’s legs.
Alexandra crouched immediately, scooping Yn up and pressing a kiss to her hair. “Hey, hey,” she murmured. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
Yn buried her face in Alexandra’s shoulder, hiccupping with angry little sobs. She clung to her like she was a life raft, one tiny hand fisting the fabric of her shirt.
Charles stayed where he was, hands clasped together, watching the scene unfold with a familiar ache in his chest.
This always happened.
Any time he said no, really said no, it was like he’d shattered something delicate. And Yn, in her hurt, always ran straight to Alexandra. She’d go quiet around him afterward, refusing eye contact, answers reduced to stubborn little shakes of her head.
Alexandra shot him a look over Yn’s shoulder. Not accusing. Just gentle. Understanding.
“She’ll come around,” she mouthed.
Charles nodded, though it didn’t make it hurt less.
“I don’t wanna talk to Papa,” Yn sniffed loudly, still clinging to Alexandra. “He’s mean.”
Alexandra rubbed soothing circles on her back. “Papa loves you very much.”
She shook her head fiercely. “No.”
Charles stood slowly, giving them space. “I’ll… I’ll be in the bedroom,” he said quietly.
Yn didn’t look at him.
The bedroom door closed softly behind him, and Charles exhaled, running a hand through his hair. He sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, staring down at the floor.
He knew she was three. He knew tantrums were normal. He knew consistency mattered.
But knowing didn’t make it easier when his daughter refused to speak to him.
After a few minutes, there was a soft knock.
Alexandra peeked in. “She’s calmer now.”
“Is she still mad?” Charles asked.
Alexandra smiled faintly. “She’s three. Of course she is.”
He sighed. “I hate this part.”
“I know.” She stepped inside and sat beside him. “But you did the right thing.”
“Doesn’t feel like it.”
“She needs boundaries,” Alexandra said gently. “And she needs to know you love her even when you say no.”
Charles nodded, eyes fixed on the floor. “She said she doesn’t like me.”
Alexandra reached for his hand. “She didn’t mean it.”
He squeezed her fingers. “Still hurts.”
“I know.”
There was a pause.
“She’s in her room,” Alexandra added. “With Bear.”
Charles huffed a weak laugh. “Of course.”
Alexandra stood. “Go talk to her. Not to convince her. Just… be there.”
He hesitated. “What if she doesn’t want me there?”
“She doesn’t have to talk,” Alexandra said softly. “You can.”
He took a breath, nodded, and stood.
Yn’s bedroom door was half open. He knocked lightly anyway.
“Yn?” he called. “Papa’s coming in, okay?”
No response.
He pushed the door open slowly.
Yn sat on her bed, Bear tucked under her arm, staring very intently at the wall. Her cheeks were still red, lashes clumped together from tears.
Charles felt his heart twist.
He stepped inside and sat down on the floor, leaning his back against the bed. He didn’t touch her. Didn’t force her to look at him.
“I know you’re upset,” he said quietly. “And that’s okay.”
Silence.
“I don’t like making you sad,” he continued. “I wish I could say yes all the time.”
Yn sniffed, but didn’t turn.
“But my job is to take care of you,” he said. “Even when it’s hard.”
She hugged Bear tighter.
“I love you,” Charles added. “Even when you’re mad at me. Even when you don’t want to talk to me.”
Another sniffle.
He waited.
Time stretched, slow and delicate.
Finally, in the smallest voice, Yn muttered, “Mama said Papa loves me.”
Charles smiled, even though she couldn’t see it. “Mama’s right.”
She glanced at him then-just a quick peek before looking away again.
“I don’t like no,” she said stubbornly.
“I know,” Charles replied. “I don’t like saying it.”
She was quiet again, swinging her legs slightly.
“Papa?” she asked after a moment.
“Yes, mon cœur?”
“After dinner… ice cream?”
Hope flickered in her eyes.
Charles laughed softly. “Yes. After dinner.”
She nodded, satisfied, then hesitated. “With Papa?”
His chest warmed instantly. “With Papa.”
She slid off the bed and toddled over, plopping down beside him. Not touching. But close.
He let his shoulder brush against hers.
“Papa?” she asked again.
“Yes?”
She leaned into him, small and warm. “I’m not mad anymore.”
Charles closed his eyes briefly, relief washing over him. He wrapped an arm around her carefully, like she might disappear if he moved too fast.
“I’m glad,” he murmured into her hair.
They stayed like that for a while, just sitting on the floor, Bear squeezed between them.
When Alexandra peeked in later, she found them exactly like that. Charles whispering something softly, Yn listening with heavy eyelids, her head resting against his chest.
Alexandra smiled and quietly closed the door again.
Could you do one where Lando’s daughter is sleepy and kinda cranky cause it’s been a long day and is clingy to him but he works around her ie (like still holding her making sure she’s comfortable)
Thank you🧡
Sleepy Girl [LN4]
Summary: Lando’s little baby girl is very sleepy
Authors Note: Please enjoy this story as much as I did. A huge thank you to this user for the lovely request 🧡
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The day had dragged on in that way only race weekends could. Not chaotic exactly, just relentless. One thing after another, no real pauses in between, no proper moment to breathe. Lando felt wrung out, like someone had taken his brain and shaken it for twelve straight hours.
Yn felt it too.
She was curled against his chest, heavy and warm, her small body slumped into him with the full trust of exhaustion. One arm was hooked tightly around his neck, the other trapped between them, fingers clutching the fabric of his hoodie like she was afraid he might disappear if she let go. Her face was buried into the curve of his shoulder, cheek pressed firmly against him.
She had been cranky for a while now. Not screaming, not crying, just quietly miserable. Whining under her breath. Shifting restlessly. Fighting sleep with the stubborn determination only an eighteen month old could manage.
Lando adjusted his grip as he stood outside the strategy room, bouncing slightly on his heels. He had one hand flat against her back, rubbing slow circles through the blanket wrapped around her. The other arm supported her weight easily, muscle memory doing most of the work.
“I know,” he murmured softly, barely audible over the distant noise of the paddock. “I know, sweetheart. Long day.”
Yn responded with a tired huff, her grip tightening.
“Yeah,” he sighed quietly. “Thought so.”
The door opened and someone inside motioned for him to come in. Lando nodded and stepped inside, immediately angling his body away from the brightest lights. He took a seat near the end of the table, lowering himself carefully so he did not jostle her.
She stirred, unhappy, her head lifting just enough for him to feel it.
“Hey,” he whispered instantly, tucking her closer. He pulled the blanket higher around her shoulders, shielding her from the room. “Shhh. It’s okay.”
Her face pressed back into him, breath warm against his neck.
The meeting started, voices calm and professional, screens lighting up with data. Lando followed along, answering when spoken to, asking a question here and there. All the while he rocked gently in his chair, a barely noticeable motion, steady and rhythmic.
Yn shifted again. A soft whine slipped out.
Lando immediately dropped his chin to her hair. “I’ve got you. Daddy’s here.”
He stroked her hair slowly, over and over, the same motion he used every night before bed. It worked most of the time. Tonight, she resisted, fussing quietly, legs squirming against his side.
He adjusted the blanket again, bundling her tighter, cocooning her against him.
“Almost done,” he whispered. “Then we’re out.”
She did not understand the words, but she understood the tone. She settled slightly, breathing still uneven but calmer.
By the time the meeting wrapped up, Yn was heavier in his arms. That soft, floppy weight that meant sleep was winning whether she liked it or not. Lando stood slowly, careful with every movement, and made his way out.
The walk to the media pen was slower than usual. Lando did not rush. He kept one hand constantly at her back, the other adjusting the blanket whenever it slipped. The closer they got, the louder it became. Voices overlapping, cameras clicking, footsteps echoing.
Yn stirred again, annoyed.
Lando felt it immediately. He turned his body slightly so her face stayed pressed into his shoulder, away from the noise. His hand moved up to her head, fingers combing gently through her hair.
“It’s okay,” he murmured. “Just noise. I promise.”
She made a small sound of protest but did not lift her head.
At the edge of the media pen, Oscar spotted them and slowed immediately. He did not say anything at first, just watched as Lando adjusted the blanket again, tucking it up higher so it covered most of Yn’s head.
“Rough timing,” Oscar said quietly.
Lando huffed out a tired breath. “Worst possible.”
Oscar smiled softly. “She’s done, yeah.”
“Completely,” Lando replied. “She’s been holding it together out of spite.”
Oscar stepped closer, careful not to draw attention. He glanced down at the small bundle in Lando’s arms.
“She asleep?”
“On the fence,” Lando said. “Any loud noise and she’ll lose it.”
As if on cue, a burst of laughter echoed nearby. Yn flinched, her grip tightening suddenly, a whimper slipping out.
Lando stopped walking immediately.
“Hey,” he whispered, turning his body away from the sound. He pulled the blanket higher, shielding her face completely now, and pressed his cheek to her hair. “Shhh. You’re okay.”
Oscar watched quietly as Lando rocked back and forth, slow and deliberate, murmuring nonsense under his breath until Yn settled again.
“You want me to stick close,” Oscar offered. “Block a bit of it.”
“Yeah,” Lando said softly. “That’d help.”
They moved forward together. Lando answered the first few questions automatically, eyes unfocused, attention split. He kept his voice calm, steady, while his hand continued its slow rhythm at Yn’s back.
Halfway through an answer, Yn shifted again, lifting her head slightly. Her eyes cracked open, unfocused and unhappy.
Lando stopped mid sentence without thinking.
“Sorry,” he said quietly to the reporter, already turning his body away. He tucked Yn’s head firmly back into his shoulder, blanket pulled up to her ear. “Hey. It’s okay. Daddy’s got you.”
She let out a small whine, then burrowed back into him.
Oscar stayed silent, standing just close enough that his shoulder blocked one of the nearest cameras.
“She’s nearly out,” Oscar murmured.
“I know,” Lando replied. “Just needs the world to stop existing for five minutes.”
Oscar smiled faintly.
The interview resumed. Lando swayed gently as he spoke, the motion constant. Yn’s breathing slowed again, her grip loosening just a little.
When it finally ended, Lando exhaled deeply, tension draining from his shoulders.
Oscar leaned in. “You want to head out now.”
“Yeah,” Lando said. “Before she changes her mind.”
Oscar nodded and walked with him, positioning himself slightly ahead as they moved away from the cameras. The noise faded gradually, replaced by quieter footsteps and distant chatter.
Yn went completely still.
Her body softened fully against his, head heavy on his shoulder, breath slow and deep. One small hand still clutched his hoodie, but without urgency now.
Lando felt something unclench in his chest.
“There you go,” he whispered, barely breathing. He pressed a gentle kiss to her hair and held her a little closer. “Sleep, love.”
Hiii I’ve been loving your fics. I was wondering if I could please request a Carlos fic where his little daughter is literally his shadow and is always glued to him and maybe if you’d like to include a wag you could include something about how Rebecca always has a really hard time whenever she needs to take their daughter away from Carlos for example when he has to go race or for like a press/interviews
Like a duckling [CS55]
Summary: Yn hates being separated from her Papá. It's almost like the world is ending for her
Authors Note: Thank you to this user for the lovely request. I hope you alm enjoy this story as much as I do!💙
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The sun is warm but not unbearable, the kind that sits gently on skin and makes everything feel slower, softer. The café terrace is busy in that quiet paddock way. Sunglasses, iced coffees sweating onto saucers, the low hum of conversations mixing languages without anyone really noticing.
Rebecca shifts Yn higher on her hip, pressing a kiss into her daughter’s curls. Yn doesn’t respond.
Normally, this would be her favorite part of the day.
“Mi amor,” Rebecca murmurs softly, brushing her thumb along Yn’s chubby cheek. “Look, Carmen’s here.”
Carmen looks up from her coffee immediately, eyes lighting up. “Hola, princesa,” she says warmly, switching to Spanish without thinking. “¿Quieres venir con tía Carmen?”
Yn usually would. Usually, she’d wriggle free, toddle over, climb straight into Carmen’s lap and chatter away in her mix of toddler Spanish and nonsense sounds. But today, Yn only tightens her grip on Rebecca’s shirt, her little face scrunched into a pout so deep it looks practiced.
Her bottom lip trembles.
Rebecca sighs quietly.
“She’s still upset,” she says apologetically.
Carmen reaches out anyway, gently tickling Yn’s foot. “Ay, pobrecita. Still missing Papá?”
Yn sniffles and buries her face into her mother’s shoulder.
Across the table, Lily leans forward, resting her chin in her hands. “That bad, huh?”
Rebecca lets out a small, helpless laugh. “Carlos went to press half an hour ago. You’d think I dropped her off at boarding school.”
“It’s because she’s literally his shadow,” Kika says fondly, sipping her drink. “I swear, I’ve never seen a child more attached.”
“That’s an understatement,” Rebecca replies.
Yn Sainz, three years old, curly-haired, brown-eyed, stubborn in the exact same way her father is, is not just attached to Carlos. She is glued to him. If Carlos stands, she stands. If he walks, she waddles behind him as fast as her short legs allow. If he sits, she climbs. If he disappears, even for a moment, the world might as well be ending.
Carlos encourages it too much.
He carries her everywhere. On his shoulders through the paddock, balanced on one arm while talking to engineers, perched on his lap during meetings when no one dares to say a word. Yn loves it. Loves being close, loves tangling her fingers in his hair, loves pressing her cheek to his neck and whispering secrets only he is allowed to hear.
Rebecca has learned, over time, that separating them is an emotional operation requiring planning, patience, and usually tissues.
Today was no different.
Carlos had crouched in front of Yn before leaving, holding her tiny hands in his big ones.
“Papá has to go talk for a little bit,” he’d said gently. “I’ll be back, okay?”
Yn’s eyes had immediately filled with tears.
“No,” she’d said firmly, shaking her head. “Papá come.”
“I know, cariño,” Carlos had whispered, pulling her into his chest. “I know.”
Rebecca remembers the way his jaw tightened, the way he’d closed his eyes for a second like physically walking away hurt him. It always does.
Now, sitting at the café, Rebecca feels like she’s carrying half a heartbreak in her arms.
Lily tries next. She slides her chair closer and opens her arms. “Do you want a cuddle with Lily?”
Yn peeks up briefly, eyes red and glassy, considers it, then shakes her head and hides again.
Kika pulls a silly face. Nothing.
Carmen hums a soft Spanish lullaby. Yn sniffles harder.
Rebecca rubs slow circles on her daughter’s back. “She’ll calm down,” she says, though she doesn’t fully believe it. “She just needs time.”
“She’s like a little duckling,” Lily says softly. “Imprinted and everything.”
Rebecca smiles sadly. “Tell me about it.”
Minutes pass. Coffee cools. Conversation continues around them, but Rebecca barely hears it. Yn stays quiet now, not crying, just sulking. The worst kind of sadness. Her arms are locked around her mother’s neck, her head resting heavily against Rebecca’s shoulder like the weight of missing someone is too much for her small body.
Then, suddenly, Yn stiffens.
Rebecca feels it before she sees it.
Yn lifts her head. Her eyes dart past the table, past Carmen, past the street.
“Papá,” Yn breathes.
Rebecca turns.
Carlos is walking toward them.
He’s still in his team polo, sunglasses perched on his head, phone in one hand. He looks tired in that post-press way, shoulders slightly tense, jaw tight, until his eyes land on Yn.
Everything softens instantly.
There is nothing subtle about the way his face changes.
“Hey,” he says, stopping mid-step.
Yn lets out a small gasp, like she’s been holding her breath the entire time.
“Papá!” she squeaks.
Before Rebecca can even react, Yn is wiggling free, practically launching herself out of her arms. She stumbles for half a second, tiny legs moving too fast, and then she’s running.
Carlos drops his phone without caring.
He crouches just in time.
Yn crashes into him, arms flinging around his neck, face burying into his shoulder with a sobby sound that breaks something deep in his chest.
“Hey, hey,” Carlos murmurs instantly, wrapping her up tight. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
Yn clings to him like he might disappear again if she loosens her grip.
“Papá go,” she says shakily.
“I know,” he whispers, pressing his cheek to her hair. “I’m sorry, cariño. Papá’s back now.”
Rebecca watches from her chair, heart aching and melting all at once.
Carlos lifts Yn easily, settling her on his hip. She immediately tucks herself closer, one arm around his neck, the other gripping his shirt like an anchor. Her tears slow, then stop completely, replaced by quiet sniffles and deep, calming breaths.
“Better now,” Carmen says softly, smiling.
Carlos glances up, a sheepish smile on his face. “Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“You didn’t,” Rebecca replies gently. “She’s been like this the whole time.”
Carlos looks down at Yn, thumb brushing under her eye. “That bad, hm?”
Yn nods seriously, her face still pressed into his shoulder.
“My poor girl,” he murmurs.
Rebecca stands and steps closer. “Press went okay?”
He exhales. “Yeah. Same questions, same answers.” He pauses, then adds quietly, “I hated leaving her.”
Rebecca reaches out, resting her hand on Yn’s back. “We know.”
Carlos adjusts his grip, lifting Yn a little higher. She sighs contentedly, like everything is finally back where it belongs.
“I’ll just—” Carlos starts, gesturing vaguely. “I’ll stand here for a bit.”
“No rush,” Lily says with a grin. “Clearly you’re occupied.”
Carlos chuckles softly. “Always.”
Yn peeks up then, eyes still a little puffy, but calmer. She reaches up and gently pulls Carlos’s sunglasses down onto his nose.
“There,” she says, very pleased with herself.
Carlos laughs, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Gracias, mi estilista.”
Rebecca watches them, the way Yn mirrors him even in stillness, how her hand rests on his chest exactly where his would if he were holding someone else, how her legs hook around his waist like muscle memory.
She knows there will be many more moments like this. Many more separations, many more reunions that feel just as intense. It’s hard. Sometimes exhausting.
But standing there, watching her husband sway gently with their daughter in his arms, whispering to her in soft Spanish, Rebecca knows one thing for certain.
Maybe one where Lando’s daughter around toddler age is sick during a race weekend?
I’ve followed similar blogs and they all discontinued their stories I’m so happy to find one like this again 🧡
Sickness [LN4]
Summary: Lando’s daughter, two years old, gets sick during a race weekend.
Authors Note: Hello lovely people. I hope you enjoyed this and thank you to the user for this sweet request. With Max, I mean Max Fewtrell, so please keep that in mind.
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The first thing Lando noticed wasn’t the heat.
It was the weight.
Yn was heavier than usual against his chest, not in the growing-toddler way that made him smile with quiet pride, but in the way a sick child clung without meaning to. Her little body was slack, pliant, tucked into him like she didn’t quite trust the world to hold her up on its own. When he shifted in the hotel bed, trying to ease his stiff shoulder, she didn’t protest the way she normally would. She only made a small sound—half cough, half whine—and burrowed closer.
That was when his eyes opened.
“Hey,” he murmured instantly, fully awake now, one hand coming up to her back. “What’s wrong, baby?”
Her skin was hot. Too hot.
Lando pushed himself up against the headboard, keeping her close as his free hand went to her forehead, then her neck. She was flushed, cheeks pink and glassy, curls damp with sweat. When she breathed in, there was a faint rattle there, subtle but unmistakable. She coughed again, weakly, and her fingers tightened in his shirt like she was afraid he might move away.
His stomach dropped.
“Oh no,” he whispered. “No, no, no.”
Yn stirred, eyelids fluttering open just enough to look at him. Her eyes were unfocused, tired in a way that had nothing to do with sleep.
“Dada,” she croaked.
“I’m here,” he said immediately, panic already clawing up his throat even as he forced his voice to stay calm. “I’ve got you. You’re okay.”
She wasn’t okay. He knew it the same way parents always did—instinctive, bone-deep, terrifying. He scooped her closer, one hand rubbing slow, steady circles into her back while his mind raced through symptoms, temperatures, timelines. Had she been warm last night? Had she coughed then? How long had this been building while he was focused on schedules and briefings and everything else that suddenly felt so small it made him sick with guilt?
His mum’s voice came back to him without warning.
She’s so little, Lando. All that travel…
He swallowed hard and pressed his lips to Yn’s hair.
“I know,” he whispered, though she hadn’t said anything. “I know.”
The doctor confirmed the fever later, gentle and reassuring in the way people were when they knew you were barely holding it together.
“It’s common,” he said. “Travel, different climates. She’s very young.”
Lando nodded, holding Yn against his shoulder as she drifted in and out of sleep, her head tucked under his chin. He didn’t interrupt, didn’t argue, didn’t defend himself the way he usually would.
“Keep her close,” the doctor continued. “Warm. Hydrated. If anything worsens—breathing, fever—you come straight back.”
“I will,” Lando said quietly. “I promise.”
And he meant it more than he’d ever meant anything in his life.
From that moment on, Yn didn’t leave him.
The weekend blurred into one long stretch of quiet vigilance. He skipped breakfast and meetings that didn’t matter. He carried her everywhere, wrapped in blankets that smelled like hotel detergent and home all at once. When she woke, he fed her warm soup by the spoonful, blowing on it like she might burn even though he knew better.
“One more,” he coaxed softly, holding the spoon just in front of her mouth. “Please?”
She frowned at it, suspicious and miserable, then opened her mouth anyway.
“Good girl,” he murmured instantly, relief flooding him. “That’s my brave girl.”
She leaned forward as soon as the spoon was empty, pressing her forehead into his chest, exhausted by the effort. Lando wrapped his arms around her, rocking slightly without realizing he was doing it.
When it was time to go to the track, he didn’t hesitate. Yn went with him.
She was bundled in layers, a little hat pulled low over her curls, her body tucked into him like she belonged nowhere else—which, right now, she didn’t. As soon as they stepped into the paddock, the noise and movement around them, her grip tightened.
“Shh,” he murmured, ducking his head instinctively to shield her. “It’s okay. Dada’s got you.”
Max fell into step beside him without a word, body angling just enough to block lenses and curious eyes. It was so natural it made Lando’s chest ache.
“She’s not great,” Lando said under his breath.
Max nodded, glancing down at the small face tucked into Lando’s shoulder. “I see.”
Yn coughed, a little harder this time, and Lando felt it like a physical blow.
“Easy, angel,” he whispered, rubbing her back. “You’re okay.”
“Maxie,” Yn mumbled sleepily when she noticed him.
She didn’t smile, but she relaxed a fraction, and that alone felt like a victory.
The only time Lando let her go was when he absolutely had to.
She was half-awake when he crouched in front of her, helmet in hand, trying to explain in words meant for adults why he had to leave her.
“Just for a bit,” he said gently. “I’ll be right back.”
“No,” she murmured, arms tightening around his neck. “Stay.”
His throat closed.
“I know,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to hers. “I want to. I promise I do.”
When Max took her, she whimpered, reaching back for him, and Lando had to turn away faster than he wanted to so no one would see his face.
The drive passed in a haze. All he could think about was the feel of her weight against his chest, the sound of her cough, the heat of her skin. When he finally climbed out of the car and handed his helmet off, he went straight back to her.
She was asleep again, bundled in Max’s arms, one tiny hand wrapped around his finger.
Lando took her back without a word, holding her like she was something breakable and sacred all at once.
That night, back in the hotel room, Yn slept sprawled across his chest, her breathing slow and steady for the first time all day. The fever was easing. He didn’t move, didn’t even think about sleep, just lay there with his hand resting over her back, memorizing the feeling of her alive and warm and here.
“I love you so much,” he whispered into her hair. “It hurts.”
Yn sighed in her sleep and pressed closer, and Lando held her, knowing with painful clarity that no race, no win, no weekend would ever matter as much as this.
As being her dad and being here when she needed him most.
What of Max is always spoiling his daughter very much, like expensive bag and jewellery even though she is still a child, and Max is like, yeah, it's cause she doesn't date an idiot one day
Princess treatment [MV33]
Summary: Max loves spoiling his princess, so she doesn't ever think about bringing an idiot home in the future.
Authors Note: Ugh, I wish someone would buy me expensive jewellery. Anyways, hope you enjoy reading this and shout out to the user for sending this amazing request!
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The Abu Dhabi sun was already beginning to dip, the heat softening into that golden, end-of-day glow that made everything feel slower, richer, almost unreal.
Max adjusted Yn on his hip as they stepped out of the car in front of The Galleria Al Maryah Island. The mall gleamed in front of them, glass and marble reflecting the sky like something out of a movie.
Yn, four years old and already very used to paddocks, private jets, and places most people only saw on Instagram, rested her cheek against Max’s shoulder. Her curls were slightly messy, her tiny sneakers dangling as she kicked lazily.
Behind them, Lando let out a low whistle.
“Mate,” he said, looking up at the building. “You sure we’re allowed in here? I feel underdressed and emotionally unprepared.”
Daniel laughed, reaching over and scooping Yn up effortlessly. “Relax, Norris. If they try to kick us out, I’ll distract them with my charm.”
Yn immediately perked up in Daniel’s arms, small hands grabbing the collar of his shirt.
“Uncle Danny,” she mumbled happily.
“There she is,” Daniel said softly, pressing his forehead to hers. “My favorite little jet-setter.”
Oscar walked alongside them, hands in his pockets, smiling quietly at the scene. “She looks exhausted.”
“She skipped her nap,” Max replied calmly. “Again.”
Yn yawned dramatically, her mouth opening wide as if on cue, then buried her face into Daniel’s chest.
“Traitor,” Max muttered. “I carry you all day and the moment Daniel shows up—”
“She has taste,” Lando interrupted. “Excellent taste.”
They headed inside, the mall instantly cooler, quieter, filled with soft music and the subtle scent of expensive perfume. Yn’s eyes fluttered between open and closed as Daniel carried her through the wide corridors.
They found a small luxury café tucked between designer stores, all white marble tables and gold accents. Tea was ordered, along with an excessive plate of biscuits that Yn poked at lazily before losing interest.
Oscar watched her carefully. “She’s really out of it.”
“She’ll crash any minute,” Daniel said, rocking her gently. “Honestly, I could carry her all day.”
“I know,” Max replied flatly. “You’d steal her if you could.”
Daniel grinned. “Tempting.”
Yn lifted her head just enough to point weakly at Lando.
“Uncle Lan… biscuit.”
Lando immediately slid the plate toward her. “Anything for you, boss.”
She nibbled one, crumbs sticking to her fingers, then leaned back into Daniel again, eyes drooping.
They stayed there for a while, talking about the season, the race weekend, laughing quietly. It was easy. Comfortable. One of those rare moments where everything felt normal.
Eventually, they stood and continued walking through the mall.
Yn was nearly asleep now, head tucked under Daniel’s chin, her small arm draped around his neck. Her breathing had gone slow and even.
They were passing store after store when suddenly Yn stirred.
She lifted her head slightly.
“Shiny,” she whispered.
Daniel slowed. “Hm?”
Yn lifted her hand, pointing weakly. “Glitter.”
They all followed her finger.
The Rolex storefront stood there, glowing. Glass cases, perfectly lit, diamonds and gold catching the light and throwing it back in a thousand tiny sparks.
Yn’s eyes widened just a little more.
“Stop,” she murmured.
Max stopped immediately.
Lando blinked. “Did… did she just command us?”
“Yes,” Oscar said calmly. “And we listened.”
Daniel chuckled, shifting Yn slightly. “You like the sparkles, huh?”
She nodded once, very seriously, then yawned again.
Max stepped closer to the display, crouching slightly so he was at her eye level. “You like that?”
“Mhm,” she said, then rested her head back on Daniel’s shoulder again, interest already fading.
Lando laughed softly. “That was the shortest attention span I’ve ever seen.”
Max straightened.
“Let’s go inside.”
All three of them froze.
“…What?” Lando said.
Daniel looked between Max and the store. “Mate, she’s asleep.”
Oscar added carefully, “Also, this is… Rolex.”
“Yes,” Max said simply, already walking toward the entrance.
They exchanged looks but followed.
Inside, the store was quiet, elegant. A sales assistant immediately approached, smiling politely.
“Good evening,” she said. “Welcome.”
Max nodded. “Hello.”
The woman’s eyes flicked briefly to Yn, then back to Max. “How can I help you today?”
Max glanced around the display, then said, calmly, casually—
“I’d like to buy the entire collection on display.”
Silence.
Absolute, deafening silence.
Lando actually choked. “You— what?”
Daniel’s eyebrows shot up. “Max.”
Oscar stared. “The… whole collection?”
The sales assistant blinked. Once. Twice.
“I’m sorry, sir, did you say—”
“Yes,” Max repeated. “Everything in this section.”
The woman’s professional smile faltered for just a fraction of a second before she recovered. “Of course, sir. If you’d like, I can—”
“That’s fine,” Max said. “Just let me know the total.”
Lando leaned closer, voice low. “Mate, are you okay?”
Daniel whispered, “Blink twice if this is a cry for help.”
Oscar looked at Yn, still half asleep, completely uninterested. “This is for… her?”
“Yes.”
They stared at him.
“For Yn?” Lando echoed incredulously.
Max nodded like this was the most normal thing in the world.
Daniel let out a laugh. “She doesn’t even know where she is.”
Yn shifted slightly, murmuring something incoherent, her tiny fingers clutching Daniel’s shirt.
Lando shook his head. “Why?”
Max finally looked at them, expression calm, almost amused.
“For her future.”
Oscar hesitated. “Her… future?”
“So she doesn’t bring home some loser boyfriend one day who can’t live up to her standards.”
Silence again.
Then—
Lando burst out laughing. “You’re insane.”
Daniel snorted. “Four years old and already intimidating future partners.”
Oscar rubbed the back of his neck. “What standards?”
Max reached into his phone.
“I’ll show you.”
He pulled up a photo and turned the screen toward them.
It was Yn’s closet.
Perfectly organized, soft lighting, rows of tiny designer dresses and coats. But that wasn’t what made them freeze.
Shelves of handbags. Miniature, yes—but unmistakably luxury. Jewelry trays lined with diamonds, gold, gemstones.
Lando’s mouth fell open. “Is that—”
“Yeah,” Max said proudly. “And that. And that.”
Daniel squinted. “Are those—”
“Van Cleef. Cartier. A few others.”
Oscar looked stunned. “She’s four.”
“She has taste,” Max replied calmly.
Lando let out a weak laugh. “I didn’t even own furniture at four.”
Max zoomed in on another photo. “She likes this one best.”
A delicate Cartier necklace, pink diamonds catching the light.
“She calls it her ‘princess necklace,’” Max said, voice softening slightly. “Pink is her favorite.”
Daniel glanced down at Yn. “She doesn’t even wear it.”
Max gently took Yn from Daniel’s arms, careful not to wake her. He lifted her small sleeve slightly.
There, on her wrist, were thin Van Cleef bracelets, delicate and unmistakable.
“They’re light,” Max said. “She doesn’t like heavy jewelry. Says it gets in the way when she plays.”
Lando stared. “She… told you that?”
Max nodded. “Very clearly.”
Oscar smiled softly despite himself. “That’s actually really sweet.”
“She only wears a little when we’re out,” Max continued. “Most of the time she doesn’t want anything on. I don’t force it.”
The sales assistant returned quietly, tablet in hand. “Sir, whenever you’re ready—”
Max nodded, handed over his card, not even looking at the total.
The beep of the machine sounded absurdly normal.
Lando shook his head slowly. “You just bought enough jewelry to bankrupt a small country.”
Max shrugged. “She’s my whole life.”
Yn stirred slightly as Max lifted her back into his arms, one tiny hand curling around his shirt.
“Papa?” she mumbled.
“I’m here,” Max whispered immediately, kissing her hair.
She sighed contentedly and fell back asleep.
The others watched, the shock slowly melting into something warmer.
Daniel smiled softly. “She’s lucky.”
Lando nodded. “Yeah. Spoiled rotten, but… loved.”
Oscar added quietly, “She’s everything to you.”
Max didn’t deny it.
As they walked out of the store, bags discreetly carried by an assistant behind them, Max adjusted Yn gently, shielding her from the lights.
“She doesn’t need all of this,” he said softly. “But she’ll never need to wonder if she’s valued.”
Omg wait, the shirt story was so cute! What about CL16 being a new dad and his baby girl loves sleeping in the car and maybe the fans have noticed that he is driving slower? I hope that makes sense
Baby on board [CL16)
Summary: Charles newborn baby girl Yn loves to sleep in the car. So Charles doesn't hesitate to drive her around Monaco whenever she wants.
Authors Note: Hello everyone! I hope you enjoy this story. I tried to add my own special touch in this and added a "social media" part? (Idk what it's actually called). Thank you to this lovely user for this sweet request.
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F1_gossip posted
Liked by username7, username9 and others
Seems like Monaco's darling Charles Leclerc has started some interesting driving habits. Apparently the driver was not only seen out driving at very weird times, but he always drove very slowly. What could be going on with Leclerc?
View comments:
username1 omg so true? Like what's going on with him???
username2 he always looks so good
username3 driving for Ferrari does that to you
username0 wait, he has a new car?!
username07 why is he driving so slow
username55 please don't post this, it doesn't concern us
username23 did someone steal his accelerator
username87 true, I actually saw him driving around at 3am, he was going super slow
username74 is he okay
username63 maybe he has insomnia???
username41 Did yall forget that he just became a dad or?
username33 so???
username41 so what if he had his baby there
username88 wait, why is this valid
username6 if this is true, please take down the post
username90 ture, let's respect their privacy
The apartment was quiet in that very particular way that only existed after midnight in Monaco.
Not the glamorous, postcard Monaco. Not the yachts or champagne or music drifting through open balconies. This was the soft, sleepy version—streetlights humming gently, the distant echo of waves somewhere below the cliff, and the low ticking of a kitchen clock that Charles had forgotten to turn off.
Yn was awake.
He knew it before she made a sound.
Charles lay on his side on the couch, one arm draped awkwardly around a folded blanket, eyes half-open, listening. He held his breath, counting in his head.
One.
Two.
Three—
A tiny noise broke the silence. Not a full cry. Just a soft, confused whimper, like she wasn’t sure yet whether she wanted to be upset.
He padded barefoot across the living room toward the bassinet by the window. Yn lay bundled in pale pink, impossibly small, her fists tucked close to her chest. Her face scrunched up as she blinked, dark lashes fluttering.
Charles leaned over her, heart doing that stupid painful thing it had been doing since the day she was born.
“How are you this tiny,” he murmured. “You’re not real.”
Her lip trembled.
“Okay, okay,” he said quickly, sliding his hands beneath her with practiced care. He lifted her against his chest, supporting her head exactly the way the nurse had shown him, the way he had practiced over and over until his movements were muscle memory.
Yn let out a quiet cry. Not loud. Just offended.
“I know,” Charles whispered, swaying gently. “I know. It’s terrible being awake at two in the morning.”
He walked slow circles around the living room, rocking her softly. He hummed under his breath—something tuneless, something his own father used to hum when Arthur was small.
Yn didn’t settle.
Her cry grew sharper, her little body stiffening slightly against his chest.
Charles stopped walking.
“Hmm,” he murmured, brow furrowing. “Okay. Okay, let’s think.”
He tried the bottle. She took a few sips, then pushed it away, frowning like she was deeply unimpressed.
He changed her diaper, whispering apologies the whole time.
“I know, I know. Worst thing ever. I’m sorry. I would be mad too.”
Still, she fussed.
Charles sighed quietly and glanced at the clock on the wall.
2:07 a.m.
He looked down at her face, red and scrunched, eyes shiny with tears.
And then he smiled.
“Oh,” he breathed, realization clicking into place. “You want the car.”
It had surprised him the first time it happened.
She’d been only a few days old. Nothing had worked—rocking, feeding, walking, bouncing on an exercise ball at four in the morning like a man who had completely lost his mind.
Out of sheer desperation, he’d buckled her into the car seat and gone for a drive.
She’d fallen asleep before he reached the end of the street.
Since then, it had become their thing.
Charles moved quietly, deliberately, slipping on a hoodie and sneakers while holding Yn against his chest. He grabbed the car seat with his free hand, checking—again—that everything was properly adjusted.
“You and me,” he whispered to her. “Let’s go.”
The garage echoed softly as he opened the door. The car lights blinked on, gentle and dim, as he settled Yn into her seat with careful hands.
“Okay,” he murmured, leaning in close. “You’re safe. Papa’s here.”
He kissed her forehead, right between her eyebrows, then straightened and slid into the driver’s seat.
The engine started with a soft purr.
Charles pulled out of the garage and onto the empty street, driving slower than he ever had in his life.
Monaco at night felt like a secret.
The roads were empty, the city hushed, like it was holding its breath. Streetlights cast golden pools on the pavement as Charles drove, one hand on the wheel, the other resting lightly near Yn’s seat as if proximity alone could protect her.
Within minutes, her cries softened.
Then stopped.
Charles glanced in the rearview mirror.
Yn was asleep.
Her mouth had fallen open just slightly, lashes resting against her cheeks. One tiny hand was curled into the fabric of her blanket.
Charles smiled so hard his cheeks hurt.
“Of course,” he whispered. “Of course this works.”
He drove on, tracing familiar routes—along the harbor, past silent cafés, up the winding roads where he usually attacked corners with precision and speed.
Tonight, he barely touched the accelerator.
Every turn was smooth. Every movement careful.
It didn’t matter.
She slept.
He was turning onto a long, empty stretch near the port when flashing blue lights suddenly filled the mirrors.
Charles’s heart jumped straight into his throat.
“Oh,” he breathed, instinctively easing off the accelerator even more. “Oh no.”
He pulled over immediately, parking carefully at the curb. His hands were steady, but his mind raced.
It’s two in the morning. I’m driving at twenty kilometers per hour. This looks ridiculous.
He glanced back at Yn.
Still asleep.
“Okay,” he whispered. “Okay. Papa’s got this.”
The police car pulled in behind him. A door opened. Footsteps approached.
Charles rolled down the window slowly.
The officer leaned in slightly, flashlight angled toward the car.
“Bonsoir,” the officer said politely. “Everything okay tonight?”
“Yes—yes,” Charles replied quickly, then stopped himself and smiled sheepishly. “I mean, yes. Sorry. I wasn’t speeding or—”
“We noticed,” the officer said, glancing at the speedometer. His tone was neutral, curious rather than stern. “You were driving very slowly.”
Charles nodded. “Yes. I know. I’m sorry if that’s not—”
The officer’s gaze shifted past Charles, toward the back seat.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
Charles followed his look and softened immediately.
“My daughter,” he said quietly. “She’s a newborn.”
The officer leaned slightly to the side, peering in more carefully.
Yn slept peacefully, completely unaware of the situation.
“Oh,” the officer said, his voice dropping automatically. “She’s tiny.”
Charles nodded, unable to stop himself from smiling. “She really likes the car. It helps her sleep. So… I drive.”
“At two in the morning,” the officer added, amused.
Charles chuckled under his breath. “Yes. At two in the morning. Or three. Or whenever she needs it.”
The officer straightened, exchanging a glance with his partner.
“Well,” he said, clearing his throat. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you,” Charles replied sincerely.
“You’re doing nothing wrong,” the officer continued. “Just… maybe keep it safe.”
“I promise,” Charles said immediately. “Very safe.”
The officer smiled, stepping back. “Alright. Keep going.”
“Thank you,” Charles said, relief washing over him. “Really.”
As the police car pulled away, Charles let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head.
“Did you hear that?” he whispered to Yn. “You charmed the police.”
He drove a little longer, just to be sure she was settled, before heading home.
The next morning—or afternoon, really—Charles was on the couch with Yn asleep on his chest when his phone buzzed.
Arthur.
He reached for it carefully, making sure not to disturb her.
Arthur:
bro 😭
Charles frowned slightly and typed back.
Charles:
What?
Arthur:
Have you been driving like a grandpa lately?
Charles blinked.
Charles:
…maybe
Arthur:
Twitter is losing it
Charles sighed, already smiling.
Charles:
What did I do now
Arthur:
People think you’ve lost your edge 😭
“why is he driving so slow”
“is he okay”
“did someone steal his accelerator”
Charles laughed silently, shoulders shaking just a little. Yn stirred but didn’t wake.
Arthur:
Someone literally tracked your night drives 😭
Charles shook his head, amused.
Charles:
Tell them it’s strategic
Arthur:
I told them you’re training for endurance at 20 km/h
Charles snorted.
He looked down at Yn, her tiny chest rising and falling against his own.
“Worth it,” he whispered.
His phone buzzed again.
Arthur:
You’re a good dad, you know
Charles swallowed, emotion tightening his chest unexpectedly.
Charles:
I’m trying
Arthur:
She’s lucky
Charles turned off his phone and rested his head back, eyes closing as he breathed her in.
Hiiiii! I just saw your fic it was beatiful, now I wanted to ask before I put my request solike what are you boundaries on the things you are willing to write for I want to ask so maybe you can even put them on your profile sometimes people are a little bit unhinged so yeah wanted to ask that before I put my request tbak you have a great day 💖
Omg hii, that is actually super thoughtful.
I write stories where the reader is the daughter of an F1 driver. She can be any age, and sometimes, she might even be a stepdaughter or have a similar background. It really helps me if you tell me the age you’d like her to be. If not, I’ll just choose one that fits the story.
I’d also love to include some of the WAGs in certain stories because they add so much fun to the stories.
There are a few things I don’t write about, just to keep my stories light and happy: nothing sexual involving the drivers, no scenes where the reader walks in on their parents, and no romantic relationships with other drivers. I also avoid retired drivers (though you can ask, I just can’t promise), and I don’t write about illnesses (f.e. asthma), disabilities, or mental health struggles. Not because these aren’t important topics, but because I don’t feel confident enough writing them.
Also, the reader will always be the daughter, not the mother. For simplicity, I usually call her Yn, it just makes writing smoother and keeps the focus on her.
I hope this all makes sense! I just ask that everyone please follow these guidelines and keep requests kind and respectful. My goal is to create little happy, comforting stories, a safe, fun escape from everything going on in the world right now.
And please remember, I don't force anyone to read my stuff.
Hello, I just found your blog and I wanted to ask if I could request something. I just saw a TikTok where a little girl wants to switch her shirt with her fathers cause she likes his better. And he dies it without asking questions and proudly wears hers and stuff.
Maybe this with Lando please 🙏
Thank you so much. Can't wait for your stories
-🦦
Switching Shirts [LN4]
Summary: Lando’s four-year-old daughter wants to switch shirts with him
Authors Note: This is my first story, so please be kind. Also, my requests are open, so feel free to send me some! I hope you all enjoy this story as much as I do. Thank you to this user for this sweet request 🧡
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The café sat just outside the paddock gates, the kind of place that smelled permanently like espresso and sun-warmed pavement. It had mismatched metal chairs, small round tables, and a chalkboard menu that was rewritten every morning by someone who definitely took their latte art very seriously.
Lando loved it.
It was quiet enough to breathe, close enough to the paddock to still feel connected, and—most importantly—it had become one of Yn’s favorite places in the world.
She was four years old, all knees and curls and boundless curiosity, wearing a bright papaya-orange McLaren kids shirt absolutely covered in glitter stones, tiny lightning bolts, and a cartoon race car with eyelashes. It sparkled violently in the sunlight every time she moved, which was constantly.
“Okay,” Lando said, leaning back in his chair and lifting his coffee. “She’s been quiet for… what, thirty seconds?”
Oscar checked his watch dramatically. “Thirty-two. That’s a new record.”
Lando squinted toward the small open space beside the café, where Yn was crouched on the ground, deeply focused on something only she could see. She had a leaf in one hand, a small stick in the other, and was muttering to herself with intense seriousness.
“She’s building something,” Lando said. “That face means it’s important.”
Oscar leaned sideways to get a better look. “Is that… a racetrack?”
Yn suddenly looked up, eyes lighting up when she noticed them watching.
“Daddy!” she yelled. “This is turn four!”
Lando immediately sat forward. “Turn four? That’s my favorite corner.”
Oscar snorted. “Of course it is.”
Yn placed the stick carefully on the ground. “You have to go fast here,” she explained, making a dramatic whooshing noise and running her finger along the imaginary track. “But not too fast or—” she gasped loudly and threw herself sideways onto the grass “—CRASH.”
Lando clutched his chest. “Nooo! Not the crash!”
Oscar laughed, lifting his coffee. “She’s got the commentary down.”
Yn popped back up, completely unharmed. “I’m okay,” she announced proudly. “I had a halo.”
“That’s my girl,” Lando said softly, warmth settling in his chest like it always did when he looked at her.
She went back to her game, humming to herself.
Oscar took a sip of his coffee and nodded toward her. “She’s grown, mate. Last year she couldn’t sit still for more than five seconds.”
“She still can’t,” Lando replied. “She just learned how to do it while talking.”
Oscar grinned. “Fair.”
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the kind that only came after years of shared flights, bad jokes, and surviving the chaos of race weekends together.
“So,” Oscar said casually, “you nervous about this weekend?”
Lando shrugged. “Always. But in a good way. Car feels decent. And if not—” he nodded toward Yn “—I’ve got my emotional support human.”
Oscar smiled. “She knows that, by the way.”
Lando looked at him. “What?”
“She absolutely knows she owns you.”
As if summoned by the conversation, Yn suddenly abandoned her racetrack and trotted over, curls bouncing. She stopped right in front of Lando, hands on her hips, staring at his chest.
Lando blinked. “What’s up, bug?”
She tilted her head, studying his shirt with deep suspicion.
Lando was wearing a black MTV t-shirt, slightly oversized, soft from being washed too many times. It was one of his favorites. Yn reached out and poked the logo.
“I want that,” she said.
Oscar froze, coffee halfway to his mouth.
Lando frowned. “You… want my shirt?”
She nodded firmly. “Yes.”
“You’re already wearing a shirt,” Lando said gently, pointing at her glitter-covered masterpiece.
She looked down at herself, then back up at him, lips wobbling just slightly.
“But yours is better.”
Oscar choked.
“Better?” Lando repeated, trying not to laugh. “How is mine better?”
“It’s yours,” Yn said simply, like that explained everything.
Oscar put his coffee down very slowly. “Oh my god.”
Lando opened his mouth, then closed it again. “Yn… Daddy needs his shirt.”
She climbed onto his knees without asking, settling herself directly into his lap. She wrapped her arms around his waist, pressed her cheek against his chest, and looked up at him with wide, shimmering eyes.
“I wanna wear Daddy,” she whined.
Oscar lost it.
“Oh, that’s not fair,” Oscar said through laughter. “That should be illegal.”
Lando groaned. “Don’t encourage her.”
Oscar wiped his eyes. “I’m not encouraging. I’m observing. And I observe that she would absolutely look better in your shirt.”
Yn immediately turned toward Oscar. “See?” she said triumphantly.
Lando stared at his teammate, betrayed. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”
Oscar shrugged. “I’m on the side of fashion.”
Lando laughed despite himself. “You’re unbelievable.”
Yn tightened her grip on him. “Please, Daddy?”
There it was. The final blow.
Lando sighed dramatically, running a hand over his face. “You know I can’t say no to you.”
Oscar leaned back, grinning. “You never could.”
“Fine,” Lando said. “But we have to switch in the bathroom. Café rules.”
Yn squealed. “YAY!”
She slid off his lap and grabbed his hand, already dragging him toward the café entrance.
Oscar called after them, “Take pictures!”
“No!” Lando yelled back, laughing.
The bathroom was small and clean, one mirror, one sink, and exactly enough space for a man and a very excited four-year-old.
“Okay,” Lando said, crouching down. “Arms up.”
Yn immediately raised her arms, grinning so hard her cheeks puffed up. He pulled her glittery McLaren shirt over her head, carefully setting it aside, then lifted his MTV shirt.
She bounced on her toes. “Hurry, Daddy.”
“I am hurrying,” he laughed.
He slipped the shirt over her head, tugging it down gently. It swallowed her instantly, the hem reaching past her knees.
She gasped, staring at herself in the mirror.
“I’m Daddy!” she announced proudly.
Lando’s chest tightened. “Yeah,” he said softly. “You are.”
He pulled on her tiny shirt next. It was… very small.
He stared at himself in the mirror.
Oscar was going to die.
The shirt barely covered his chest, glitter stones digging slightly into his skin, the hem sitting somewhere just below his ribs.
“Daddy,” Yn said seriously, patting his stomach. “You look funny.”
“Thanks,” Lando replied. “That’s exactly what I was going for.”
He scooped her up, tucking the oversized shirt into her shorts so she wouldn’t trip.
“Okay,” he said. “Let’s go show Oscar.”
They stepped back outside.
Oscar looked up—and immediately bent forward, howling with laughter.
“Oh my god,” he wheezed. “Oh my god.”
Yn waved proudly from Lando’s arms. “I got Daddy’s shirt!”
“And I got hers,” Lando said flatly.
Oscar stood up just to get a better look. “You look like you lost a bet.”
“I lost a battle,” Lando corrected.
Yn squirmed down and ran back to her play area, the oversized shirt flapping around her legs like a dress.
Oscar wiped his eyes again. “You’re really just… okay with that?”
Lando glanced down at himself, then at Yn, who was happily rebuilding her racetrack.
“She’s happy,” he said simply. “That’s all that matters.”
Oscar smiled softly. “You’re a good dad.”
Lando shrugged, tugging the tiny shirt down as much as possible. “I try.”
He took a sip of his coffee, completely unbothered.
And somewhere near the paddock, a four-year-old girl played in an oversized shirt, perfectly content—wearing the thing she loved most in the world.
