— H O U S E T A R G A R Y E N

[housettargaryenn]

FORMULA ONE MASTERLIST

1.) LANDO NORRIS

— CASUAL OR NOT

2.) CARLOS SAINZ

— DID I CROSS THE LINE? (FT. CHARLES LECLERC)

3.) CHARLES LECLERC

— DID I CROSS THE LINE? (FT. CARLOS SAINZ)

[housettargaryenn]

𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑 - P R O L O G U E

Read P R O L O G U E from the story 𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑 by clairlunairexo (— A R I A N A) with 3 reads. aerion...

Check out my new story if you’re interested— it’s a Baelor Targaryen one:)

[housettargaryenn]

A COURT OF DRAGONS AND DESIRES

AERION TARGARYEN | JACAERYS VELARYON

summary: in which aelara targaryen, twin to aerion targaryen and sister to jacaerys velaryon, becomes the one flame both princes cannot help but burn for

parings: aerion targaryen x targaryen!reader x jacaerys velaryon

warnings: targcest | smut

a/n: just to clarify— this is only an au

— In the year 116 AC, on a night when the moon hung blood-red over Dragonstone and the sea churned black beneath storm-laden skies, Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen brought forth twins into a world already drowning in fire and ambition. The boy came first—Aerion, screaming his fury at the indignity of birth, his violet eyes blazing even as the midwives cleaned the blood from his pale skin. The girl followed mere moments later, silent and watchful, her gaze already too knowing for an infant newly torn from the womb.

They said afterward that the dragons sang that night. That Caraxes and Syrax both loosed flames into the darkness, painting the castle walls in shades of crimson and gold. That the very stones of Dragonstone trembled with something that was not quite celebration, not quite warning but prophecy, perhaps, of what these children would become.

The girl was named Aelara Targaryen.

And from the moment she drew her first breath, she understood what it meant to be born of fire and blood.

—

A couple years have passed since that storm wracked night, and the realm has learned what the dragons knew from the beginning: that Princess Aelara Targaryen is perhaps one the most dangerous creatures.

She is beautiful, of course— all Targaryens are beautiful, with their silver gold hair and eyes the color of amethyst, their features carved with the otherworldly perfection of Old Valyria. But Aelara's beauty is not the soft, delicate kind that inspires songs and sighs. It is the beauty of a blade freshly forged, of wildfire contained in crystal, of a dragon coiled and waiting. Men look at her and feel their breath catch not with desire alone, but with the primal recognition that they are in the presence of something that could destroy them without effort, without mercy, without a second thought.

She moves through the halls of Dragonstone like a queen already crowned, though no crown yet graces her. There is a particular grace to her bearing, a calculated precision in every gesture, every glance, every word that falls from her lips like honey laced with poison. She has inherited her father's cunning and her mother's iron will, but she has refined these traits into something uniquely her own a kind of brilliant, terrible clarity that allows her to see through people as though they were made of glass.

Daemon Targaryen, the Rogue Prince himself, looks at his daughter and sees a mirror of his own ambition, his own ruthlessness. But even he does not fully comprehend the depths of what burns within her. Even he does not realize that she has already surpassed him in the art of manipulation, in the subtle dance of power that requires not just strength but perfect understanding of human weakness.

Rhaenyra sees more. A mother always does. She watches Aelara with a mixture of pride and something that might be fear the recognition that she has brought into the world a creature who will reshape it according to her own design, who will let nothing and no one stand between her and what she desires. And what Aelara desires, she takes.

But it is not crowns or thrones that occupy the princess's thoughts, though she would wear both with devastating grace. It is not even the great game of power that consumes so many of her house, though she plays it better than most lords three times her age.

No, what consumes Aelara Targaryen— what drives her, shapes her, defines the very core of her being is something far more dangerous, far more destructive than mere political ambition.

It is the love of her brothers. And her love for them in return.

—

Jacaerys Velaryon is the eldest, born two years before the twins. He is everything a crown prince should be: brave, principled, fiercely loyal to his mother and her cause. He has spent his life proving himself worthy of the name he bears, of the throne he will one day inherit, of the dragon he rides with such natural grace that even his detractors must acknowledge his skill.

He is also desperately, irrevocably in love with his sister.

It is a love that has grown from childhood affection into something far more complex, far more consuming. He knows her in ways that no one else can. The silent language of shared glances, the instinctive understanding that comes from years of standing side by side against the world's judgment. He sees past the masks she wears for others, past the calculated charm and the dangerous beauty, to the brilliant, ambitious, achingly human woman beneath.

She is his mirror, his match, his equal in every way that matters. When they are together, there is a rightness to it that defies explanation, defies the laws of gods and men. They move in perfect synchronization, their thoughts aligned, their purposes unified. He makes her laugh— truly laugh, not the practiced sound she offers to courtiers and suitors and she makes him feel seen in a way that no one else ever has.

But Jacaerys is not alone in his devotion.

Aerion Targaryen, Aelara's twin, her other half, the boy who entered the world mere moments before her, loves her with an intensity that borders on madness. Where Jacaerys's love is tender and protective, Aerion's is possessive and all-consuming. He believes —no, he knows— that she belongs to him in a way that transcends ordinary bonds of family or affection.

They shared a womb. They drew their first breaths within moments of each other. They are two halves of the same whole, fire and fire, dragon and dragon, bound together by something deeper than blood, more primal than choice.

Aerion is everything that Jacaerys is not: arrogant where his older brother is humble, cruel where Jacaerys is kind, reckless where Jacaerys is measured. His temper is legendary, his vanity absolute, his capacity for violence both casual and terrifying. He is beautiful in the way that wildfire is beautiful mesmerizing and deadly, impossible to control, destined to consume everything in its path.

And he wants his sister with a hunger that nothing else can satisfy.

Their relationship is a secret kept in shadows and stolen moments, built on shared fire and a history that binds them more tightly than any marriage vow. When they are together, the world falls away, and there is only the two of them. Twin flames burning in the darkness, understanding each other in ways that words cannot capture. He knows the taste of her lips, the sound of her breath, the way her body fits against his as though they were designed to be together.

She is his, and he is hers, and nothing, not duty, not honor, not even the love of their brother will change that fundamental truth. Or so he believes

—

But Aelara Targaryen is not a prize to be won, not a possession to be claimed. She is a dragon in her own right, and dragons bow to no one.

She loves both her brothers, though in different ways, with different intensities. With Aerion, there is the primal recognition of shared essence, the dangerous thrill of matching fire with fire. With Jacaerys, there is something deeper, something that feels like coming home after a long journey through hostile lands.

She is brilliant enough to see the destruction that this triangle of desire will inevitably cause. Cunning enough to manipulate the situation to her advantage, to play one brother against the other when it serves her purposes. Principled enough to be bound by her own code of honor, even as she breaks every other rule that society has imposed upon her.

And narcissistic enough, though she would never name it as such, to believe that she can control this fire, that she can have both brothers' devotion without watching everything burn.

She is wrong, of course.

Because the hatred between Jacaerys and Aerion grows with each passing day, fed by jealousy and resentment and the unbearable knowledge that the woman they both love shares herself between them. Jacaerys envies the twin bond, the fact that Aerion and Aelara entered the world together, that they share something he can never have. Aerion burns with rage over the history between Aelara and Jacaerys, the easy intimacy, the way she softens for their older brother in ways she never does for anyone else.

And always, always, there is the whispered word that Aerion wields like a blade: bastard. The reminder that Jacaerys's claim to legitimacy is built on a lie that everyone knows but no one dares speak aloud. The suggestion that perhaps the true Targaryen prince— the one with undisputed blood— should be the one to stand at Aelara's side.

What makes this rivalry unbearable is not distance or abstraction. It is proximity. It is blood. These are not distant suitors or political opponents who can be dismissed or destroyed. These are brothers, bound by the same mother, the same legacy, the same dragon blood that runs hot and demanding through their veins.

Each believes that Aelara is meant to stand at his side. Each sees the other not just as a rival, but as a traitor. Someone who should support his claim, not contest it. And as they compete for her devotion, for her body, for her heart, the fragile balance of their family threatens to shatter into pieces that can never be made whole again.

—

This is the story of Aelara Targaryen, the dragon's daughter, the princess who holds the hearts of two princes in her hands and knows that she cannot keep both without destroying everything she loves.

The story of three siblings bound by blood and desire, by loyalty and betrayal, by love that is both salvation and damnation. Of how fire consumes even those who believe themselves immune to burning. Because in the house of the dragon, love can be just as destructive as war. And when dragons dance, the whole world burns.

The only question is: who will be left standing when the flames finally die?

* author note: i’ll also be publishing this on wattpad, so if you’re interested, you can check it out there @clairlunairexo

[housettargaryenn]

and what if i wrote a fanfic where the reader is the twin sister of aerion targaryen, and jacaerys velaryon is their older brother— both of them are in love with her?

[housettargaryenn]

DID I CROSS THE LINE? — CARLOS SAINZ/CHARLES LECLERC

MASTERLIST

summary: charles is dating carlos’ ex-girlfriend, causing him to feel guilty despite knowing she truly does love him

The roar of the Formula One engines grew louder as Charles Leclerc tightened his grip on the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white. His focus remained unwavering, eyes darting between the track and the rearview mirror. The scent of burning rubber filled the cockpit, mingling with the adrenaline that coursed through his veins. It was another typical race weekend, but his thoughts drifted to the unexpected turn his life had taken off the track.

In the bustling paddock, the tension between Charles and his once-close friend Carlos Sainz was palpable. The two drivers had been a dynamic duo, pushing each other to new heights in their racing careers. But the friendship had taken a sharp turn when Carlos's ex-girlfriend, the stunning YN LN, had found comfort in Charles's arms. It was a line that Charles knew he shouldn't have crossed, yet he couldn't deny the connection he felt with her.

The paparazzi had caught wind of the new couple and were eager to snap photos of them together. The flashes of cameras and the murmurs of the crowd grew louder as YN, an accomplished actress, made her way through the sea of people towards Charles. Her smile was forced, her eyes glancing over her shoulder, searching for the familiar face of her ex. Carlos, who was signing autographs nearby, noticed and his jaw tightened. The sight of them together stung, a stark reminder of what he had lost.

In the post-race press conference, a journalist, sensing the tension, decided to stir the pot. "Charles, how do you feel about dating Carlos's ex? Does it affect your friendship and your on-track rivalry?" The room grew still as the microphone was shoved in front of him. He took a deep breath, trying to compose his thoughts. "Carlos and I are professionals. What happens off the track stays there. As for YN, she's a wonderful person, and we're happy together. That's all I have to say on the matter." His voice remained steady, but the guilt gnawed at him.

Carlos's eyes bore into him from across the room, the weight of his gaze like a heavy burden. The truth was, their breakup had been amicable. YN had wanted the fairy tale, the house, the kids. But Carlos had been clear, his career was his priority. He needed more time. It was a conversation they had had many times, each time ending in the same place. "I'm not ready to settle down," he'd say, his eyes on the horizon, dreams of checkered flags dancing in his vision. YN, tired of waiting, had made the painful decision to move on.

The night of the breakup, she had called Charles, her voice trembling with sobs. He had rushed to her side, a knight in shining armor, ready to mend her shattered heart. They had talked for hours, shared laughs, and slowly, the cracks began to fill. Before they knew it, they had found solace in each other's arms. It was a moment of comfort that had evolved into something more, and by July, they were inseparable.

Now, in the quiet of his hotel room, Charles studied his reflection in the mirror. "Did I cross the line?" He whispered to himself. The question echoed, taunting him like the ghost of his friendship with Carlos. He knew he had been the one to hold her when she was at her lowest, but was that enough to justify his actions?

The relationship with YN had been a whirlwind, a blur of love and passion that had swept them both off their feet. But every touch, every whispered secret, every shared smile was haunted by the shadow of their past. He knew that YN loved him, she had said it countless times, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he was just a rebound, a Band-Aid on a wound that hadn't fully healed.

On the track, their rivalry had intensified, each race a silent battleground for their bruised egos. The camaraderie they had once shared was replaced by a tense silence that spoke louder than words. The pit crew noticed the shift, the team management whispered about it in hushed tones, but no one dared to address the elephant in the room.

One evening, after a particularly grueling practice session, Charles found himself unable to shake off the weight of his conscience. He decided to confront Carlos, hoping to clear the air and perhaps salvage what was left of their friendship. He knocked on the door to Carlos's hotel suite, his heart racing like an engine at full throttle.

Carlos opened the door, his expression unreadable. He stepped aside, allowing Charles to enter. The room was dimly lit, the curtains drawn, and the air was thick with unspoken words. They sat down on the couch, the space between them as vast as the distance between the starting line and the finish.

"Look, Carlos," Charles began, his voice strained, "I know this isn't ideal. But I want you to know, I never meant to hurt you. It just happened." He paused, searching for the right words to express his regret without sounding insincere. "YN needed someone, and I was there for her. I didn't plan for it to turn into this."

Carlos stared at the floor, his jaw clenched tight. "I get it," he said, his voice low and measured. "But you were my best friend, my confidant. And now, every time I see you together, it's like you're flaunting it in my face." He took a deep breath, trying to control his emotions. "I can't ignore the fact that you're with her."

The silence that followed was as deafening as the roar of the engines they were accustomed to. Each man grappled with his own feelings of betrayal and guilt. "I'm sorry, Carlos," Charles finally murmured. "I truly am. But I've fallen in love with her, and I can't just turn it off."

Carlos looked up, his eyes brimming with a mix of anger and pain. "Love doesn't just happen overnight, Charles," he said, his voice cracking. "You were there when she needed you, I get that. But what about our friendship? Did that mean nothing to you?"

Charles swallowed hard, the lump in his throat feeling like a brick. "It meant everything," he replied solemnly. "But love... it doesn't come with a manual, you know? It just happens." He paused, his gaze shifting to the floor, avoiding the accusation in Carlos's eyes. "I didn't intend for this to come between us."

Carlos let out a bitter laugh. "Too late for that, isn't it?" He stood up, pacing the room. "You know what the worst part is?" He stopped, turning to face Charles. "It's that every time she laughs at your jokes, every time she looks at you like you hung the moon, I can't help but wonder if she ever looked at me that way."

The room grew colder, the weight of their words hanging heavy in the air. "I know it's not fair," Charles admitted, "but I can't change the way I feel."

Carlos' pacing grew more agitated, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. "And what about how I feel?" he snapped. "What about the friendship we had?"

Charles sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I know it's messed up, Carlos. But I didn't set out to hurt you."

"But you did," Carlos said, his voice raw. "And now you expect me to just accept it?"

"I'm not asking you to," Charles replied, his voice heavy with regret. "I just wanted you to know that I'm aware of the situation. And that I'm sorry."

Carlos leaned against the wall, his eyes never leaving Charles. "Sorry isn't enough, man," he said, his voice laced with bitterness. "You didn't just date my ex. You dated the woman I introduced you to, the woman I talked about for months. How can I trust you after that?"

The words hung in the air, sharp as shattered glass. Charles felt the sting, his heart racing as he searched for a way to respond. He knew that nothing he said could undo the damage, but he had to try. "I understand," he began slowly. "But sometimes things happen, and people change. I didn't plan for this, and I never meant for it to come between us."

Carlos' gaze was unyielding. "Maybe not," he conceded, "but it did. And now, every time we're on the track together, every time we're in the same room, it's all I can think about. You're not just my rival on the circuit anymore, you're the guy who stole my girl."

The accusation hit Charles like a blow to the chest. He had never seen Carlos so vulnerable, so broken. The reality of the situation crashed down on him, and he realized that their friendship might never be the same. "I didn't steal her, Carlos," he said, his voice a mix of sadness and frustration. "We both know she didn't belong to anyone."

Carlos' eyes flashed with anger, and for a moment, it seemed as if he might lash out. Instead, he took a deep breath and composed himself. "Maybe not," he said, his voice tight. "But you should have had more respect for what we had. For what she and I had."

"I did," Charles protested. "I still do. But love doesn't come with rules or boundaries. It's not something you can control."

Carlos' eyes searched his, looking for any hint of dishonesty. After a long moment, he nodded. "Maybe not," he conceded, the anger slowly dissipating. "But you could have talked to me about it. You could have given me a heads up, instead of letting me find out through the grapevine."

"I know," Charles said, his voice thick with regret. "I was afraid of losing you. I didn't know how to tell you."

Carlos rubbed his temples, the exhaustion of the day's practice etched on his face. "Well, now you know," he said, his voice a mix of resignation and anger. "You can't just expect us to go back to the way things were, not after this."

"I know," Charles said softly. "But I'm here, and I'm willing to work on it. We're still teammates, we still have a job to do."

Carlos sighed heavily. "Yeah, we do," he agreed. "But it's not going to be easy."

"I know," Charles nodded solemnly. "But we're professional drivers, we deal with pressure all the time. We can handle this."

Carlos looked at him skeptically. "Can we, though?" He sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, his eyes never leaving Charles. "Or is this going to turn into a circus every time we're together?"

"I'll do everything I can to make sure it doesn't," Charles promised, his voice earnest. "We're both adults, and we can't let our personal lives affect our performance."

"But it already has," Carlos pointed out. "Our relationship has changed, and there's no going back."

"I know," Charles said, his voice heavy with understanding. "But we can't let it ruin our season, our careers."

Carlos nodded slowly, the tension in the room loosening slightly. "Okay," he said, "but you need to know that this isn't going to be easy for me. Every time I see you two together, it's going to be a reminder."

"I understand," Charles said, his eyes never leaving Carlos’. "I'll do my best to respect that."

The two men sat in silence for a while, the tension in the room slowly dissipating like the smoke from an extinguished flame. They both knew that the road ahead would be fraught with challenges, both on and off the track. But as professional athletes, they had been taught to channel their emotions into their performance, to push through the pain and come out stronger on the other side.

The following day, as they suited up for the next race, the air between them remained thick with unspoken words. They acknowledged each other with curt nods, the once warm camaraderie replaced by a chilly formality. The team watched them warily, aware that the dynamics had shifted.

The race was tense, each pass on the track a silent battle of wills. The rivalry that had once fueled their competitive spirits now had a personal edge, each man pushing harder to prove his worth. The cars screamed around the circuit, the smell of burning rubber a constant reminder of the fiery situation they had found themselves in.

As the laps ticked by, it was clear that both drivers were holding back, neither willing to take the risk of an on-track clash. The team's strategists watched nervously from the pit wall, their headsets crackling with tension. They knew that the situation between their two star drivers was delicate, and they couldn't afford any distractions in the final stretch of the season.

After the race, the usual post-race banter was replaced by a cold silence as they stepped out of their cars. The podium was a minefield of forced smiles and awkward glances. The cameras clicked away, capturing the strained dynamic for the world to see. The media was eager to pounce on the drama, but both men remained tight-lipped, focusing on their respective finishes rather than their personal lives.

The weeks turned into months, and the season rolled on. The tension between Carlos and Charles remained a constant, a silent storm that rumbled just beneath the surface. They were civil to each other, but the ease of their former friendship was gone, replaced by a formality that was as stifling as it was necessary. YN, caught in the middle, tried to navigate the choppy waters, but the weight of the situation was taking its toll on her.

During a particularly intense training session, the tension finally boiled over. As they sped around the track, neck and neck, their rivalry spilled over into something more personal. A risky move by Charles sent Carlos's car spinning out, narrowly avoiding a catastrophic accident. The track fell silent, save for the screech of tires and the collective gasp of the onlooking team. The two drivers pulled over, climbing out of their vehicles, the air between them charged with anger.

"What the hell was that?" Carlos shouted, storming over to Charles.

"It was just a mistake, Carlos," Charles replied, his voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through him.

"A mistake?" Carlos's eyes narrowed. "Or was it something more?" He took a step closer, the heat of his anger palpable. "You've had it out for me since you started dating her."

"That's not true," Charles protested, holding up his hands. "This isn't about YN. This is racing."

"Is it?" Carlos spat back. "Or is it about you trying to prove you're better than me in every aspect of life?"

Their team manager, sensing the impending explosion, rushed over to intervene. "Guys, guys," he said, his voice firm but calm. "This isn't the time or the place."

Charles took a deep breath, his hands balled into fists. "You're right," he said, his voice tight. "But we need to talk about this."

"Talk?" Carlos's voice was incredulous. "We've been talking for months, and where has it gotten us?"

"We haven't really talked," Charles corrected, his eyes never leaving Carlos’. "We've been avoiding it. But maybe it's time we faced this head-on."

Carlos stared at him, the anger in his eyes slowly morphing into something resembling resentment. "Fine," he said through gritted teeth. "Let's talk."

They made their way back to the garage, the weight of their conversation following them like a dark cloud. As they approached, they saw YN waiting for them, her eyes wide with concern. She had watched the incident unfold on the TV screens scattered around the paddock. Her heart had been in her throat as she saw the cars spin out, and the tension between them was as palpable as the humidity in the air.

"Guys, are you okay?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

"We're fine," Charles assured her, though the tension was still thick as they entered the garage. Fred, the team manager, ushered them into a private office, closing the door firmly behind them.

"This needs to stop," he said, his voice a mix of frustration and concern. "You two are tearing the team apart, and it's affecting everyone. We can't have this kind of drama going into the final races of the season."

Fred’s words hung in the air as Carlos and Charles stared at each other across the small table. The walls of the office were adorned with trophies and team photos, a stark reminder of the camaraderie that once existed between them. They took their seats, the leather squeaking under their racing suits, and took a moment to collect their thoughts.

"I never meant for it to come to this," Charles began, his eyes earnest. "I respect you, Carlos. You're one of the best drivers out there, and I've learned so much from you."

"But apparently not enough to respect my relationship," Carlos retorted, the bitterness still present in his tone.

YN looked from one to the other, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "This isn't just about me," she said softly. "It's about what you two had, what you still have. A friendship that was strong enough to survive anything, until..." She trailed off, her voice breaking.

Carlos's gaze softened as he took in her distress. "We'll figure it out," he assured her, though the doubt was clear in his eyes.

"We have to," Charles added, his voice firm. "We can't let this ruin what we've built."

Fred nodded, his expression stern. "You're both right. This isn't just about you two anymore. It's about the team, the fans, and the championship. We can't afford any more distractions."

Carlos leaned back in his chair, his arms folded across his chest. "So what do we do?"

"We focus on the championship," Charles said, his eyes never leaving Carlos's. "We put our personal feelings aside and work together as teammates."

"And what about after?" Carlos asked, the bitterness not entirely gone from his voice.

"After?" Charles echoed, the question hanging in the air like the scent of gasoline and burnt rubber that permeated the garage.

Fred cleared his throat. "One race at a time," he said, his voice firm. "We've got a job to do, and we need to do it together. That's what being a team is all about."

They both nodded in agreement, the gravity of the situation setting in. The rest of the season was crucial, and their personal issues could not overshadow their shared goal. The air in the office was thick with unspoken words, but the understanding was clear: they would have to find a way to coexist for the sake of their careers.

Fred stepped out, giving them the space to continue their conversation in private. The door clicked shut, leaving the echo of their racing hearts and the distant hum of the team bustling outside the walls. YN looked from Carlos to Charles, her eyes pleading for a resolution that would mend the fissure in their friendship.

"Look," Charles said, his voice measured and calm. "I know I screwed up. I should've talked to you before things went this far with YN. But I didn't, and I can't change that now."

Carlos' jaw tightened, but he didn't interrupt. He knew Charles was right. The silence grew heavy, the only sound the ticking of the clock on the wall, reminding them of the time they had wasted on anger and misunderstanding.

"I get it," Carlos finally said, his voice a little less strained. "But you have to understand, it's not just about the past. It's about trust. And that's something that takes time to rebuild."

"I know," Charles agreed. "And I'm willing to give it time. To earn it back." He reached out his hand, a gesture of peace and reconciliation.

Carlos studied it for a moment before taking it firmly in his own. "Okay," he said, his voice gruff. "For now, let's focus on the championship. We'll deal with the rest after the season."

They shook hands, the gesture feeling foreign and forced. The friendship they had once shared was now a battlefield of unspoken words and bruised egos. As they left the office, the team looked at them with a mix of relief and apprehension. They knew the peace was fragile, but for now, it was enough to keep the engine of their professional partnership running.

The final races of the season were a whirlwind of speed and strategy, each victory and defeat a reflection of their personal turmoil. Yet, on the track, they pushed aside their issues, working together to secure points for the team. The rivalry was still there, but it had been overshadowed by something deeper, something that went beyond the competition of who could go faster and who could win more races.

As the final race approached, the tension was palpable. The championship was within their grasp, but so was the reality that their friendship might never fully recover. They had agreed to put their personal feelings aside for the sake of the team, but the scars remained, raw and unhealed.

In the days leading up to the grand finale, they were forced to face each other in interviews, in team meetings, and on the track. Each interaction was a dance of diplomacy, a tightrope walk of professionalism. They were like two fighters in the final round, each waiting for the other to slip up, revealing the pain beneath the surface.

The final race was a nail-biter. The stands were a blur of colors and noise, the air electric with excitement and anticipation. The crowd didn't know the full story, but they could feel the tension between the two drivers. The race was a strategic chess match, each move calculated to outwit the other. As the laps counted down, the gap between them grew smaller, the tension grew tauter.

The final lap approached, and Carlos made a bold move, trying to overtake Charles. The cars danced together, a dance of speed and power. The crowd held its breath as they saw the cars touch, sparks flying. But instead of anger, there was a silent understanding between them. They both knew the stakes were high, not just for the championship, but for their friendship.

With one last push, Carlos managed to edge ahead, crossing the finish line with a lead so narrow it was almost invisible. The cheers of the crowd engulfed the circuit, but the two drivers remained focused on the bigger prize: their friendship. They slowed down, both cars coming to a halt just after the finish line.

The moment was frozen in time as they sat in their cockpits, eyes locked, both knowing the gravity of the situation. Then, almost simultaneously, they unbuckled their harnesses and climbed out of their cars. They met in the middle of the track, the roar of the engines replaced by the sound of their own hearts beating.

Without a word, Carlos walked over to Charles and offered his hand. Charles took it, and they share a firm handshake, a silent acknowledgment of the respect they had for each other as competitors and the understanding that their friendship was worth fighting for. The camaraderie they once shared was a ghost of what it had been, but in that moment, it flickered back to life.

The podium ceremony was a mix of jubilation and tension. The flashes of cameras and the spray of champagne couldn't hide the unspoken words between them. Yet, they managed to keep their composure, the weight of their friendship hanging in the balance as they took their positions.

As Carlos raised the trophy, his eyes found YN in the crowd. She was watching, a proud smile on her face, and for a brief moment, the pain of the past seemed to recede. He knew that she was happy for him, and that was enough.

When they finally stepped down from the podium, the sound of their names echoing through the circuit, YN rushed towards them. She didn't bother with the formalities, didn't stop to consider the cameras or the media frenzy surrounding them. She threw her arms around both of them, her eyes shining with love and relief.

"I'm so proud of you," she whispered in Charles's ear, and he felt a weight lift from his chest.

"Thank you," he murmured, his eyes never leaving Carlos'

The three of them stood there, an awkward trio at the center of the world's gaze, their hearts beating in sync with the rhythm of the engines that had brought them together and pushed them apart.

"You both need to get ready for the press," a team official reminded them, breaking the moment.

Reluctantly, they released their embrace, the tension still visible in their stances. The press conference was a minefield of questions about their relationship and the impact on the team dynamics. They each took their seats, the podium a stark reminder of their unspoken feud.

"First of all, congratulations to both of you on a hard-fought season," the first journalist began. "Can you comment on the rumors surrounding your friendship and how it affected your performance on the track?"

Carlos took a deep breath, his grip on the podium tightening. "Our rivalry is on the track," he said firmly. "Our friendship is personal. We've had our differences, but we're professionals. We've managed to keep it from affecting our performance."

Charles nodded in agreement, his gaze flickering to YN, who gave him an encouraging smile. "What Carlos said," he added. "We're here to race, and that's what we've done."

The press conference continued, with questions veering between the professional and the personal. The tension between the two drivers was a palpable undercurrent, but they remained composed, sticking to their agreed-upon narrative. The season had taken a toll, but they had come through it together, if not entirely unscathed, then at least with the appearance of unity.

As the final question was asked, Fred gave them a subtle nod, signaling it was time to wrap up. They stood, the weight of their podium finishes heavy on their shoulders, and made their way through the throng of journalists and photographers, back to the sanctity of the paddock. The adrenaline from the race was wearing off, replaced by a sense of exhaustion that went beyond physical fatigue.

And then, as fate would have it, Carlos's path crossed with YN's. She was waiting for Charles, her eyes searching the crowd for her partner. The moment their eyes met, the air grew thick with the unspoken words that had been building for months. YN looked at him, her expression a mix of sadness and hope. He knew she had been caught in the middle, and he felt a pang of regret for the pain he had caused her.

"Hey," Carlos said, his voice low.

YN's eyes searched his, looking for a hint of the warmth that used to be there. "Hi," she replied, her voice tentative.

"I know things are complicated," Carlos began, his voice sincere. "But I want you to know that I'm happy for you."

YN's eyes widened in surprise, a single tear escaping down her cheek. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice trembling.

"And I'm sorry," Carlos continued, his gaze never leaving hers. "I know I haven't made it easy for you."

YN took a deep breath, her eyes shimmering with emotion. "It's okay," she said, her voice a little shaky. "We all make mistakes."

The air was tense as Carlos nodded, a silent understanding passing between them. It was a small step, but it felt like a monumental leap in the right direction. The weight of the past was still there, but perhaps, just perhaps, it was starting to shift.

As the season came to a close, the trio found themselves at a crossroads. The championship had been won, but the cost was high. The friendship that had once been the bedrock of their lives together was now a delicate, fractured thing, held together by the thinnest of threads.

The off-season was a blur of press tours and sponsor appearances. They were forced to spend time together, to smile for the cameras, to play the part of the united team. But the cracks were there, visible to anyone who knew where to look. The jovial banter had been replaced by strained politeness, the easy camaraderie by a tension that stretched tight as a bowstring.

During a promotional event in Monaco, they found themselves sharing a stage with YN, who had been invited as a special guest. The atmosphere was electric, the air thick with the scent of the sea and the anticipation of what might happen next. As they talked about the season, the highs and lows, their eyes kept darting to her, the unspoken tension a tangible force field between them.

"And what about the rumors about your love life?" a journalist asked, a knowing smile playing on her lips.

YN's gaze shifted from Charles to Carlos, and she took a deep breath before speaking. "Our relationship is private, but I will say this: We're all adults here. We've moved on, and we're focusing on our careers."

Her words were like a balm on the tension, though it was clear the wound was far from healed. They finished the event with the grace of seasoned professionals, but as soon as the lights dimmed and the stage cleared, the tension between the two drivers was palpable.

YN and Charles slipped away from the bustling crowd, the cobblestone streets of Monaco whispering their secrets as they walked hand in hand. She looked up at him, her eyes searching his. "I love you," she said, her grip tightening.

Charles felt the weight of her words, the sincerity in her voice. He knew she meant it, but the guilt of their shared past with Carlos was a specter that hovered between them. He squeezed her hands back, his heart aching with the knowledge that their happiness was built on the ruins of his friendship. "I love you too," he responded, his voice thick with emotion.

As they strolled along the Monaco harbor, the yachts bobbing gently in the moonlit waters, YN took a moment to look at him, really look at him. "I just want you to know that," she repeated, her eyes searching his. "No matter what happens, I choose you. And I know you feel guilty, but it's not your fault that Carlos and I didn't work out."

Charles nodded, trying to hold onto her words like a lifeline. "I know you do," he murmured, his eyes reflecting the myriad of emotions swirling inside him. "But I can't help but wonder if things would be different if I hadn't..." He trailed off, not wanting to voice the thought that had been haunting him for months.

YN stopped walking and turned to face him, placing a gentle hand on his cheek. "You didn't cause our breakup, Charles. We had issues long before you came into the picture. And I'm happy now. We're happy."

Her words resonated within him, but the doubt remained, a persistent whisper in his ear. They continued walking, the sound of their footsteps echoing through the deserted streets. The moon cast a soft glow over the yachts, their reflection dancing on the calm waters.

"I know," Charles said, his voice barely above a murmur. "But I can't help but feel like I've taken something from him that I had no right to."

YN's gaze softened. "You didn't take anything, Charles. We found each other, and we fell in love. That's not a crime."

"But the way it happened," he said, his voice laced with guilt. "It feels like I stole something precious from him."

YN searched his eyes, understanding the depth of his feelings. "Sometimes, things just don't work out," she said gently. "We can't control who we fall in love with."

Charles knew YN was right. He didnt need her to remind him she loved him but deep down he could still see Carlos in the back of his mind.

[housettargaryenn]

CASUAL OR NOT? — LANDO NORRIS

MASTERLIST

summary: lando is not interested in a committed relationship and prefers to keep things casual. however, when he sees you with your co-star at a bar, his perception on your relationship changes

The rain pattered against the windshield in a rhythmic pattern, as if the universe itself was keeping tempo with the music blasting from the car's speakers. Lando Norris leaned back in the driver's seat, one hand casually resting on the steering wheel, the other tapping out the beat on the leather armrest. His eyes were focused on the road ahead, a serene expression on his face that belied the stormy weather outside.

YN, his frequent companion and occasional partner, sat in the passenger seat, her legs curled up under her. She watched him with a mix of admiration and something else, something she had been trying to ignore for a while now. Their relationship, if it could even be called that, had been a series of late nights, shared jokes, and passionate encounters. But it was the mornings that she liked best, the quiet moments before the world intruded, when they could simply be.

As they pulled into the underground parking garage of Lando's luxurious apartment building, she turned to him, her eyes searching his for something more. "Lando," she began, her voice softer than the music that now seemed to fade into the background, "Can we talk?"

He cut the engine and looked over, a flicker of concern in his eyes. "Sure, what's up?"

YN took a deep breath, her heart racing. She had been planning this conversation for weeks, but now that the moment was here, she wasn't quite sure where to start. "I just think we should define what this is between us," she said finally, her voice wavering slightly. "I can't keep going on like this, not knowing if you see a future for us."

Lando's expression grew guarded as he turned to face her fully. "What are you talking about?" he asked, his tone neutral.

YN felt the weight of the moment pressing down on her. "I mean, we spend so much time together, and it's not just about...about that," she gestured vaguely, blushing. "I want more than just being your...your fuck buddy."

Lando's eyes narrowed slightly, and he leaned back into his seat. "You know the deal," he said, his voice cooler than the air conditioning that blew through the car. "We're good together, and that's all this needs to be."

YN felt the rejection like a slap. "But I don't think it's enough for me anymore," she replied, trying to keep her voice steady. "I want something real, something that lasts beyond just the nights."

Lando sighed, running a hand through his damp hair. "Look, YN," he began, "You know I care about you, but I'm not ready for that kind of commitment. I've got my career, and you've got yours. Let's just keep things simple, yeah?"

Her heart sank further, but she nodded, trying to hide the hurt. "Okay," she murmured, reaching for the door handle. "I understand."

As the cool air of the garage hit her, she stepped out of the car and into the elevator, Lando following close behind. The ride up to his apartment was tense, the silence between them thick with unspoken words. When the doors opened, she walked in and headed straight for the bathroom, needing a moment to compose herself. The cold porcelain of the sink felt like a slap to her cheek as she stared at her reflection in the mirror.

"You're just going to let him do this to you?" she murmured to herself. "You deserve better."

YN's reflection stared back at her, a silent accusation. She knew she did, but the pull of Lando was undeniable. He was the kind of person that filled up a room with his presence, a magnetic force that was impossible to ignore. But she had to try. For her own sanity, she had to create some space.

When she emerged from the bathroom, Lando was already sprawled on the couch, flipping through channels on the massive TV that dominated the living room. He glanced up at her as she entered, his eyes lingering on her face before returning to the screen. She could almost see the wheels turning in his head, trying to gauge her mood. He knew she was upset, but he had closed the door on any further discussion.

YN took a deep breath and forced a smile, deciding to play it cool. "I'm going to grab some water," she said, heading to the kitchen. The fridge was stocked with bottles of expensive sparkling water, but she grabbed a plain one, needing something simple and uncomplicated to ease the turmoil in her stomach.

Lando didn't respond, his eyes never leaving the TV. She took the opportunity to study him, noticing the tension in his shoulders, the tightness in his jaw. It was clear he wasn't as unfazed as he pretended to be.

The silence stretched on as they sat together on the couch, the only sound the muffled hum of the TV. YN sipped her water, her thoughts racing. She knew Lando wasn't the type for grand gestures or deep conversations about feelings, but she had hoped for at least a glimmer of understanding. Instead, she felt like she had been slapped with the harsh reality of their situation.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, the screen lighting up with a notification. Without looking, she knew it was just another email or social media update, but a sudden idea struck her. She pulled it out, glancing at the screen with a faux look of surprise. "It's my manager," she said, her voice a little too bright. "They need me for an emergency meeting."

Lando looked over at her, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Now?"

YN nodded, her smile tight. "Yeah, sorry. It's super important." She stood, placing her water bottle on the coffee table with a click that echoed in the quiet room.

Lando sat up, finally putting down the TV remote. "But I thought you had the whole day free today," he said, his voice tinged with accusation.

YN shrugged, her eyes avoiding his. "It's the entertainment business, things change last minute." She grabbed her bag from the floor and slung it over her shoulder. "I've got to go."

Lando's expression softened, a hint of worry creasing his forehead. He stood up and took a step towards her. "Okay, let me drop you off at least," he offered, the words coming out almost against his will.

YN's heart skipped a beat at his gesture, but she knew she had to be firm. "No, it's fine. I'll just grab a cab," she said, her voice firm. "I need some space, Lando."

He stepped back, his eyes searching hers. "Space?" he repeated, as if the word were foreign to him. "What's going on, YN?"

"It's nothing," she said, too quickly. "Just work stuff, you know how it is." She forced a laugh, but it sounded hollow even to her own ears. "I'll catch up with you later, okay?"

Lando studied her for a moment, his eyes searching hers. Then, with a nod, he said, "Alright, if you need to go, you should go. But can I at least see you tonight?" There was a hint of something in his voice, something that made her pause.

YN looked at him, her expression unreadable. "I'll see about that," she replied, her voice cool. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much his words had hurt her. She turned and headed for the door, the sound of her heels clicking on the concrete floor echoing through the garage.

Lando followed her, his eyes never leaving her back. "Come on, YN," he said, his voice low. "Don't be like this."

But she was already out the door, the sound of it slamming shut behind her echoing through the garage. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. He had seen the look on her face, the one that told him she was hurt. He knew he had to fix this, had to show her that she wasn't just another notch on his bedpost. So he sent her a text, hoping to smooth things over. "Come on, YN. Just tell me what's up. I'm sorry if I hurt you. Let's talk tonight?"

YN stared at the screen of her phone, her thumb hovering over the keyboard. She wanted to scream, to tell him exactly how much his dismissal had stung. But instead, she took a deep breath and typed out a simple response. "I'll think about it."

With that, she slammed her phone into her bag and marched out of the garage, the sting of the rain against her face a welcome distraction from the turmoil in her chest. She knew she needed to focus on her work, to channel her emotions into something productive. Her career had always been her safe haven, a place where she had full control.

YN hailed a cab and gave the driver the address of the nearest coffee shop. As the car pulled away, she couldn't help but glance back at Lando's apartment building, wondering if he was watching her go. She pushed the thought aside, telling herself that she had made the right decision. She needed to be with someone who valued her beyond their own needs, someone who could offer her the commitment she craved.

Inside the warm, cozy café, she found a quiet corner and ordered a cappuccino. The scent of freshly ground coffee beans and the sound of rain outside created a soothing backdrop as she scrolled through her phone, trying to distract herself from her tumultuous emotions. Her eyes kept drifting to the screen, expecting to see a message from Lando. When none came, she felt a pang of disappointment, followed by a rush of anger at her own vulnerability.

It was then she saw it, a text message from Lando asking if she was free tonight. For a brief moment, she considered telling him the truth, but the memory of his dismissal earlier in the day made her hesitate. She couldn't bear to face him again so soon, not until she had figured out what she truly wanted. So she typed back a lie, telling him she had a series of meetings lined up all day and wouldn't be able to make it. She hit send and immediately felt a twinge of guilt.

Her phone buzzed again, and she sighed, expecting another text from Lando. Instead, it was a message from her costar on the set of their latest project, Drew. He was asking if she wanted to grab a bite to eat and catch up. YN's eyes lit up at the offer; Drew had always been the kind of person who made her feel seen and heard. Plus, she hadn't realized how much she missed spending time with someone who didn't have the power to shatter her heart.

“Hey, I'm actually free tonight,” she replied, her thumbs moving swiftly over the screen. “What time and where?”

Drew's response was almost instant. “Great! The usual place, 8 PM. Some of the cast are going to be there, thought you might want to hang out.”

YN felt a mix of excitement and apprehension. The club was where she had first met Lando, and it held a lot of memories for them. But she knew she had to start moving on, so she replied, "Sounds good. I'll be there."

The hours dragged by as she prepared for the evening, her mind racing with thoughts of Lando. She chose an outfit that made her feel confident, a little black dress that hugged her curves in all the right places, and paired it with heels that clicked authoritatively against the floor. As she stepped out of the taxi and into the bustling street, the cool air was a shock to her system after the stuffy confines of the car.

The club was already crowded when she arrived, a cacophony of laughter and music spilling onto the sidewalk. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for the evening ahead. As she pushed through the throngs of people, her eyes scanned the room, searching for a familiar face. And there he was, Drew, waving at her from the bar, a smile that reached his eyes. She felt a weight lift from her shoulders as she made her way over, his warm greeting a balm to her soul.

They hugged, the kind of hug that friends share after a long day's work, and then Drew stepped back, his gaze sweeping over her. "You look amazing," he said, and she couldn't help but feel a flicker of satisfaction. She had chosen the dress to make a statement, and it appeared she had succeeded. The other cast members greeted her with cheerful hellos and air kisses, their conversations a blur of excitement about the latest episode and the upcoming plot twists.

YN forced a smile, trying to keep the pain of her conversation with Lando from showing. Drew seemed to sense her unease and steered her towards the bar, his hand lightly resting on the small of her back. The gesture was comforting, familiar in a way that Lando's touch had never been. Once they had ordered their drinks, they found a quiet spot away from the thumping bass and the din of the crowd.

As they leaned against the bar, the tension began to ease from her body, and she found herself laughing genuinely for the first time in hours. Drew's stories about the latest on-set mishaps had a way of making the world feel a little brighter. His blue eyes sparkled with mischief, and she felt the beginnings of a crush, something she had never allowed herself to feel before.

They talked about everything and nothing at all, the kind of easy conversation that comes when you're with someone who truly gets you. Drew listened intently, nodding in all the right places, making her feel seen in a way Lando never had. They sipped their drinks, the bubbles in her champagne tickling her nose, and she felt alive again. The noise of the club faded into the background as they shared jokes and whispered secrets, their laughter mingling with the music.

YN was too busy to notice when Lando walked in, his eyes scanning the crowd. He spotted her immediately, the sight of her with Drew a punch to the gut. He had always known she was beautiful, but tonight, in that dress, with that smile, she looked...different. He felt a strange twist in his chest, an emotion he hadn't experienced before. Jealousy, sharp and bitter, coiled through him like a serpent.

He watched from the shadows as Drew leaned closer, whispering something in her ear that made her laugh, her head thrown back in a way that was so familiar and yet so alien to Lando in this context. His jaw clenching as he saw the way Drew's hand lingered on her back, the intimate way their fingers brushed against each other's. It was clear they had moved beyond the confines of friendship.

The sight of them together sent a jolt of something unidentifiable through him, a feeling he had never experienced before. He had always been the one with the power in their relationship, the one calling the shots, dictating the terms of their arrangement. But seeing her now, so carefree and happy without him, made him feel threatened.

Lando clenched his fists, his jaw tight. He had texted her earlier, hoping to smooth things over, to get her back to his place for another night of passion and easy companionship. But she had replied with a lie, telling him she had a string of meetings. And here she was, at the same club they had first met, with Drew of all people, her costar, the one who had been steadily creeping into her life, into her conversations, into her thoughts.

He couldn't believe she had chosen to be with Drew over him. The betrayal burned like a hot knife through butter, leaving him feeling exposed and vulnerable. He had never been the jealous type, but something about the way Drew looked at YN, the way his hand lingered just a fraction too long on her arm, made his blood boil. It was as if Drew was laying claim to what he thought was his.

With trembling fingers, Lando pulled out his phone, his heart racing in his chest. He had to know if she was still thinking about him, if she was as torn apart by their conversation as he was. He typed out a casual message, trying to play it cool. "Hey, YN, still in the meeting?" He hit send and watched as the message flew through the digital ether, feeling the anticipation build with every second that ticked by.

Across the room, YN felt her phone vibrate in her bag. She knew it was him, even before she glanced down at the screen. For a moment, she allowed herself to indulge in the warmth that spread through her at the thought of his name. Then she remembered the conversation in the garage, the way he had shut her down so coldly, and she forced her hand to stay still. She couldn't give in to the pull of his words, not after everything she had felt today.

Drew was mid-sentence, his eyes twinkling with amusement, when she looked back up. "Everything okay?" he asked, nodding towards her bag.

"Just a work thing," she replied, her voice strained. She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. "It's nothing."

Drew nodded, his gaze flicking towards her bag before returning to her face. He could see the tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers tapped against the bar. "You sure?" he asked, his voice gentle.

YN nodded, taking a sip of her drink. "Yeah, it's fine," she said, her voice tight. But she couldn't ignore the feeling that grew in her chest, the tightness that made it hard to breathe. Lando's text was burning a hole in her pocket, a silent reminder of the conversation they had left unresolved.

As if on cue, her phone began to ring, the shrill sound piercing the music. She pulled it out, her heart racing as she saw Lando's name flash across the screen. Drew's eyes widened in surprise, and she could see the question in his gaze.

She picks up her phone, ignoring the call. “At a meeting, can’t pick up” She types right away.

Lando watched her from across the room, his jaw tightening as she ignored his call. He knew she was lying, but he couldn’t help the feeling of rejection that washed over him. He had never felt like this before, not with any of the other women he had been with. YN was different; she had gotten under his skin, and now he couldn’t shake her.

With a newfound determination, he pushed through the crowded dance floor, his eyes never leaving her. He had to talk to her, to make her see that he wasn’t just playing games. As he approached the bar, he saw the moment she noticed him. Her laughter died on her lips, and her eyes widened in surprise. Drew turned to see what had caused her reaction, his smile slipping slightly when he saw Lando.

"Hey," Lando said, his voice low and gruff as he came to a stop beside them. YN's heart pounded in her chest, and she felt the heat of his body so close to hers. She couldn't ignore the way his eyes searched hers, looking for something she wasn't sure she was ready to give.

Drew nodded in greeting, his smile polite but cool. "Lando," he said, his hand sliding from YN's back. "I didn't expect to see you here."

Lando ignored the subtle challenge in Drew's voice. "Yeah, I had some free time," he said, his gaze never leaving YN. "I thought you had a meeting tonight," he said, his voice casual, but the accusation clear.

YN felt the tension in the air thicken, like the humidity before a storm. She took a deep breath, trying to keep her cool. "It got canceled," she said, her eyes never leaving Lando's. "Last minute."

Lando's eyes narrowed, and she could almost see the wheels turning in his head. "Convenient," he murmured, his voice laced with skepticism.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, her voice steady despite the chaos of emotions swirling inside her.

Lando leaned closer, his breath warm against her ear. "Just that I thought you had better things to do than hang out with the cast," he said, his eyes flicking to Drew. The tension between them was palpable, a silent challenge that had the air around them crackling.

YN felt a flash of annoyance, her hand tightening around her drink. "It's none of your business where I am or who I'm with," she said, her voice firm. "We're not together, remember?"

Drew looked between them, his smile slipping. "Everything okay?" he asked, his eyes darting between Lando and YN.

YN took a deep breath, her heart racing. "It's fine," she said, her voice strained. "We just had a misunderstanding."

Lando's eyes bore into her, his jaw clenched tight. "A misunderstanding," he repeated, his voice like gravel. "Is that what you call it when you lie to me?"

YN felt a spark of anger flare up in her chest. "I didn't lie," she shot back, her voice low and even. "I just didn't tell you everything."

Drew looked uncomfortable, his hand hovering awkwardly in the air before he set it on her arm. "Hey," he said, his voice soothing. "Let's go outside, get some fresh air."

Lando stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. "We need to talk," he said, his voice tight.

But YN was tired of talking, tired of the push and pull of their non-relationship. "Not now," she said firmly, her eyes meeting his with a determination she hadn't felt in weeks. "I'm here with Drew. We're having fun."

Lando's gaze shifted to Drew, and the disdain in his eyes was palpable. "You're here with him?" he repeated, his voice tight with emotion. "After all we've been through, you chose to be with someone else?"

Drew cleared his throat, looking from YN to Lando. "Maybe we should—"

"No," Lando said, cutting him off. His eyes never left YN's. "You owe me an explanation."

YN felt a chill run down her spine. "I don't owe you anything," she replied, her voice steady. "We're not in a relationship, remember?"

Lando's grip on the edge of the bar tightened, his knuckles turning white. "That's not what it felt like last night," he said, his voice low and intense. "You can't just switch it on and off like it's a race car."

YN's eyes flashed with anger. "Don't," she warned, her voice a warning siren in the chaos of the club. "You don't get to dictate who I spend my time with."

Drew, ever the gentleman, sensed the tension and stepped aside, his hand slipping from her arm. "I'll leave you two to talk," he murmured, his eyes flickering with a hint of sadness before he disappeared into the throng of partygoers.

Lando nodded curtly. "Yeah, okay," he said, his voice a dismissal as cold as the drink he hadn't touched. "Leave."

Drew's eyes searched YN's for a moment, looking for reassurance or perhaps a protest, but she gave him nothing. With a sigh, he retreated into the crowd, leaving them alone in their bubble of tension. The music around them grew louder as if to fill the sudden void of his absence.

"What do you want from me, Lando?" YN asked, her voice barely audible over the bass.

"I want the truth," he said, his eyes searching hers. "What's going on between us?"

YN's voice was a mix of frustration and sadness. "You're asking me this?" she echoed. "I should be the one asking you what's going on. One minute you whisper sweet nothings and say you love me, the next you treat this as some casual fling. Then you show up here jealous and scare Drew off. I don't get it."

Lando's eyes searched hers, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his features. "I'm not jealous," he said, his voice tight. "But when we have something as good as we do, I expect loyalty."

YN raised an eyebrow, the noise of the club fading into a dull throb around them. "Loyalty?" she repeated, her voice tinged with sarcasm. "You're the one who said you didn't want anything serious. Remember that?"

Lando took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving hers. "Look, I know I've been sending mixed signals," he admitted, his voice a concession to the tension in the air. "But seeing you with him..." He trailed off, the words sticking in his throat like a gear stuck in neutral.

"Seeing me with who?" YN challenged, her voice rising with each syllable. "Someone who actually wants to be with me? Who doesn't treat me like a trophy to be displayed only when it suits you?"

Lando's jaw tightened, his eyes never leaving hers. "You're more than that to me," he said, his voice gruff with emotion. "But I can't do this if you're going to be with other guys."

YN felt a surge of frustration. "And I can't do this if you don’t want to be with me," she shot back, her voice as sharp as the edge of a pit stop wrench. "What's it going to be, Lando?"

The air between them was thick with unspoken words and the thump of the bass. Lando's eyes searched hers, the chaos of the club a stark contrast to the intensity of their conversation. "I don't know," he finally said, his voice a reluctant admission. "But I do know that when I saw you here with him, it felt like someone had stolen my victory lap."

YN's chest tightened, her heart pounding in time with the music. "So what are you saying?" she asked, her voice shaking slightly.

Lando took a step closer, his hand reaching for hers. "I'm saying that maybe we need to redefine the rules of whatever we have." He paused, his thumb tracing circles on the back of her hand. "I don't want to lose you, YN. Maybe it's time we put our cards on the table."

YN looked at him, her eyes searching his for any hint of insincerity. But all she saw was raw emotion, a side of Lando she hadn't seen since the early days of their whirlwind romance. "What does that mean?" she asked, her voice a whisper amidst the din.

"It means," Lando began, his voice tight with the effort to keep his emotions in check, "That I'm willing to try. To figure out what we are, what we could be." His thumb continued its gentle caress, sending warmth through her body despite the coolness of his touch. "But only if you're willing to do the same."

YN's eyes searched his, looking for any crack in the armor of his confidence. "What if it's not enough?" she whispered, her heart racing like a car on the final straight. "What if we're just two people moving in different directions?"

Lando's grip tightened on her hand, his thumb still tracing those comforting circles. "Then we find a way to merge lanes," he said, his voice firm. "Because there isn't anybody else I'd want all the love bullshit and promises with that isn't you."

YN felt a knot form in her throat. She had heard these words before, but this time, they seemed to hold more weight. "But what if it's just the thrill of the chase for you?" she asked, her voice shaking. "What if when you finally catch me, you realize I'm not the prize you thought I was?"

Lando leaned in, his breath warm against her cheek. "You're not a prize to be won, YN," he said, his voice a gentle rumble. "You're the finish line I never knew I needed." His hand slid up her arm, pulling her closer. "I'm not looking for a quick race. I want the whole season."

YN felt a flutter of hope in her chest, but the shadow of doubt lingered. "But what if..." she began, her voice trailing off as she searched his eyes.

"What if I promise to never let you go?" Lando said, cutting through her fears like a knife through butter. His gaze was intense, his voice sincere.

YN looked at him, her heart pounding in her chest like the bass of the music around them. "Promises are easy to make," she said, her voice barely audible above the din of the club. "But harder to keep."

Lando leaned in closer, his breath warm against her neck. "I know," he murmured. "But I'm not making a promise lightly." His eyes searched hers, a silent plea for her to believe him. "I've had my share of fast flings, but with you, it's different."

YN's eyes searched his, looking for the truth in the depths of those green pools. "How?" she asked, her voice a tremble of hope. "What's so different about us?"

Lando took a moment, his eyes never leaving hers. "Everything," he said finally. "The way you make me feel when you're around, the way my heart races when you're not. I''ve never felt this way before."

YN felt a warmth spread through her, but she held onto her skepticism with the tenacity of a racer fighting for the lead. "But what about your fear of commitment?" she pressed, her voice a mix of hope and doubt. "You've always been so clear about not wanting anything serious."

Lando's gaze softened, his thumb still tracing patterns on her skin. "I know," he said, his voice a gentle rumble. "But maybe it's time for me to take the plunge. To stop playing it safe and start living in the moment." His eyes searched hers, the intensity of his words as palpable as the bass that pounded around them. "With you."

YN's chest tightened at his words, a mix of hope and fear coiling in her stomach. "But what if one day you wake up and realize you made a mistake?" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the music.

Lando's grip on her hand grew firmer. "If I wake up regretting anything, it'll be the days I didn't fight harder for you," he said, his voice a solemn vow. "I don't want to look back and see that I let you go because I was too scared to put my foot down on the gas."

YN felt the weight of his words, the gravity of his commitment. But she couldn't shake the feeling that she'd been around this track before, the fear of the checkered flag waving too soon. "Lando," she began, her voice trembling. "I just don't want to wake up one day with you regretting any of this."

He took a step closer, his eyes searching hers with an intensity that made her heart race. "YN," he said, his voice a gentle coax. "I promise you, if there's one thing I've learned from racing, it's that you can't win by playing it safe. And being with you is the best risk I've ever taken."

YN took a deep breath, her eyes never leaving his. "Okay," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Let's do this. But no more games."

Lando's smile was the kind that could melt ice on the coldest race track. "No more games, baby," he agreed, his voice a warm promise. He leaned in, and for a moment, it felt like the world had stopped spinning. His lips met hers, and the kiss was a declaration of intent, a promise sealed without words.

YN melted into him, the taste of his mouth familiar and thrilling all at once. The club around them faded away, replaced by the thundering of their hearts. The kiss deepened, their breaths mingling like the scent of victory and defeat, a potent cocktail of passion and possibility.

When they finally broke apart, YN felt a shiver run down her spine. Lando's hand slid to the small of her back, his grip firm as if afraid she might slip away again. "Come home with me," he murmured against her ear, his breath hot and tempting.

YN's resolve wavered, the warmth of his touch making it difficult to remember why she'd decided to keep her distance in the first place. But she took a step back, her eyes searching his. "I can't," she said, her voice a tremble. "We need to take this slow. I need to be sure you mean it."

Lando nodded, his expression understanding. "Fair enough," he murmured. "But promise me one thing."

"What?" YN asked, her eyes searching his.

"Promise me you won't push me away," Lando said, his voice a gentle rumble. "I know I've been a mess, but I'm willing to work on this if you are."

YN's heart skipped a beat at his sincerity. She took a moment, her eyes lingering on his, feeling the weight of his gaze. "Okay," she whispered, her voice as delicate as the first light of dawn. "We'll take it slow."

Lando's eyes searched hers for a moment longer before he nodded, his expression a mix of relief and determination. He leaned in and kissed her forehead, the gesture surprisingly tender. "Good," he murmured. "Now go enjoy your night, but don't forget who you belong to."

YN felt a shiver run down her spine at his words, a mix of excitement and apprehension. "I never said I belonged to you," she reminded him, her voice firm despite the tremble in her chest.

Lando's smile was slow and knowing. "But you do," he said, his eyes holding hers captive. "You always have."

YN took a step back, the warmth of his hand on her arm sending a jolt through her body. "Well," she said, her voice steady despite the turmoil within, "Seeing as you scared my date away and some of the other members are gone, I'm on my own."

Lando's smile faded, the realization of his actions setting in. He looked around the club, the vibrant lights now seeming harsh and unwelcoming. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice gruff with regret. "That wasn't my intention."

YN raised an eyebrow, her expression a mix of skepticism and amusement. "No?" she asked, her voice laden with sarcasm. "You just wanted to make sure I knew you were watching?"

Lando's grin was unabashed. "Maybe," he admitted, his eyes glinting with mischief. "But I promise it wasn't just that." He took another sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving hers. "I saw the way he was looking at you, and I couldn't help but feel a bit possessive."

YN rolled her eyes, but she couldn't hide the smile tugging at her lips. "Well, you've made your point," she said, her voice light. "But you can't just scare off every guy who talks to me."

Lando's smile grew wider, a hint of playfulness in his gaze. "Maybe not," he said, his tone teasing. "But I can't help it if they don't measure up to the competition."

YN rolled her eyes, but she couldn't help the warmth that spread through her. "You're something else," she murmured, shaking her head.

Lando's smile grew, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Maybe that's why you can't stay away," he said, his voice a low purr.

YN felt the heat of his gaze, the warmth of his breath against her cheek. "I'm not playing games anymore," she reminded him, her voice firm.

Lando's smile was a soft curve, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. "I'm not asking you to," he murmured. "I'm just saying that when we're together, I don't want to share you with anyone else." His hand slid down to her hip, his touch sending a shiver through her body. "And I definitely don't want anyone else to share your bed."

YN felt the heat of his gaze, the promise in his eyes as potent as the whiskey he'd been sipping. "Lando," she breathed, his name a plea and a warning. But his grip was firm, his intentions clear as he pulled her in, his body a wall of warmth against hers.

"How about we go back to my place," he murmured, his hands on her hips as if claiming her, "Or yours if you want. Whatever you want." His voice was a seductive whisper, the bass of the club vibrating through their bodies like a secret conversation only they could hear.

YN felt a rush of desire, his proximity igniting a flame that had been smoldering for weeks. She leaned into him, the warmth of his body a stark contrast to the coolness of the club air. "Okay" she murmured, the word a concession to the promise of something more than just a casual fling.

Lando's smile grew, a victory lap around the track of their tumultuous relationship. He wrapped his arm around her waist, guiding her through the crowd as if they were dancing to a tune only they could hear. The club's lights reflected off the chrome and leather of his watch, the timepiece a symbol of the fast-paced world they both inhabited.

The night air outside was a welcome relief, cooling the heat of their argument. Lando's apartment was a short drive away, the journey filled with unspoken words and the hum of anticipation. When they arrived, the lights of the city spread out below them like a glittering race track, a stark reminder of the world they'd left behind for the night.

Inside, the space was a reflection of Lando's personality—sleek and modern with touches of luxury. He led her to the balcony, the wind whispering through the cityscape as they stood at the railing. "YN," he began, his voice a soft caress against the cacophony of their unspoken fears. "I know I've been all over the place, but seeing you with Drew tonight..." His eyes searched hers, a silent plea for understanding. "It just made me realize what I could lose if I don't fight for what I want."

Her heart skipped a beat at his admission, the coolness of the night air doing nothing to extinguish the warmth of his touch. "Lando," she whispered, her voice shaky. "I want you to want me, but not because you're scared of losing me."

He turned to face her, his eyes searching hers. "It's not just fear," he said, his voice a gentle rumble. "It's because when I'm with you, I feel like I've finally found the right gear." He leaned in, his breath warm against her skin. "And I do, YN. I want you, all of you—your body, your mind, your soul." His voice was a soft caress, a declaration that sent a tremor through her.

YN's smile was tentative, a glimmer of hope in the sea of doubt. She nodded, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. "Okay," she murmured, her voice a sigh of both relief and trepidation. "We'll take it slow, see where this goes."

The moment she said it, Lando's expression changed, the tension in his jaw dissipating as he leaned in, his smile a warm embrace. He picked her up, her legs wrapping around his waist instinctively, and kissed her with a passion that made her heart race like the engine of his Formula 1 car. His kiss was a promise, a declaration that he was all in, that he was willing to navigate the twists and turns of a relationship with her.

YN melted into the embrace, her hands tangling in his hair as the kiss deepened, the city lights blurring into a kaleidoscope of color behind her closed eyes. This was the Lando she had fallen for—passionate, intense, and all-consuming. The Lando who made her feel like she was the only woman in the world when he held her.

He broke away, his smile wide and genuine, the kind that made her heart skip a beat. "I've missed this," he murmured against her neck, his voice a soft rumble. "Missed us."

YN's laugh was a soft melody in the quiet of the night. "You were in my bed not even 24 hours ago," she pointed out, her voice light with teasing.

Lando grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Yeah, but that was just for fun," he said, his voice dropping an octave. "Now, I want to be there for the whole night, holding you close and waking up to you in the morning everyday." His thumb traced her lower lip, the gesture sending a shiver down her spine.

YN's laugh was a soft melody in the quiet of the night, her eyes never leaving his. "Is that a promise or a threat?" she teased, her voice light.

Lando's smile grew wider, his eyes never leaving hers. "Both," he said, his tone a playful dare. "But mostly a promise." His thumb traced her lower lip, the gesture sending a shiver down her spine. "A promise of many more nights together, no racing away from what we have."

YN felt the tension ease, her laughter a warm breeze in the night air. "I don't know if I can handle that much excitement," she teased, her voice light as a feather. "You might just wear me out."

Lando's grin was contagious, his eyes sparkling with a mischief that made her heart race. "Challenge accepted," he murmured, his voice a gentle rumble against her ear. He kissed her neck, the softness of his lips sending a shiver down her spine.

YN couldn't help but laugh, the sound echoing off the walls of his apartment. "You're insatiable," she said, her voice a warm caress.

Lando grinned, his eyes never leaving hers. "Only when it comes to you," he murmured, his hands sliding down to her hips. His touch sent a jolt of electricity through her, making her pulse race like the engine of his car.

YN's laugh was a sweet symphony, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "So, what's changed?" she asked, her voice a soft tease. "Is it because you saw me with Drew?"

Lando's smile was a silent admission, his eyes never leaving hers. "Maybe," he murmured, his voice a gentle rumble. "But mostly because I realized I don't want to spend another night without you in my arms."

YN felt a warmth spread through her, his words as potent as the whiskey they had shared. "Well," she said, her voice a playful purr, "You're in luck. Because I don't plan on going anywhere."

Lando's grin was the kind that could charm the pants off a saint, but it was the sincerity in his eyes that really got her. "Good," he murmured, his grip on her hips tightening. "Because I've got some serious making up to do."

YN couldn't help but laugh, the tension between them dissipating like early morning mist. "Oh, really?" she teased, raising an eyebrow. "What kind of making up are we talking about?"

Lando's smile was the kind that could charm the stars out of the sky. "The kind that involves a lot of this," he murmured, leaning in to kiss her again. His touch was a warm promise, his kiss a declaration of intent.

YN felt a warmth spread through her, his words a balm to her bruised ego. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, their bodies melding together like two cars in a perfectly timed pit stop. The kiss grew deeper, more urgent, a dance of tongues that spoke of unspoken desires and a future filled with passion.