Oversteering & Overthinking

[majesticallyglimmeringprophecy]

F1 Masterlist

Max Verstappen

I Notice You 1.5k+ words In which Max thinks he sees his manager... until something happens that makes him realize he's not doing enough

Too Much? 1k+ words In which Max's favorite thing about his girlfriend is how much she chats his ear off... until one day, he stops her.

Oscar Piastri

Nothing yet...

Lando Norris

Blurring The Lines 2.1k+ words In which Lando's favorite reporter suddenly goes off the grid, and only reappears once there's an engagement ring on her finger. What?

Who Shows Up (Part Two) In which Lando completely disregards his PR girlfriend, so Oscar and Lily take her under their wing. How will he respond when it all goes wrong? Can he win her over, or is it too late?

Kimi Antonelli

Young Blood, Big Leagues 1.3k+ words In which Kimi doesn't realize the woman he's been relying on all season is the same age as him

When Did You Get Hot? 1k+ words In which a former karting rival turned Mercedes Jr. Engineer has a panic attack and the person to calm her is not who she expected.

[majesticallyglimmeringprophecy]

Who Shows Up (Pt. 2)

(Y/n) x Lando Norris Platonic!Oscar and Lily

2.7k+ words

fake relationship, light hurt/ comfort, very slow burn

Part One | Part Two | Part Three?

Lando didn’t sleep that night.  

Not... really.  

He made it to the hotel after a day of moving through obligations like a ghost and collapsed on his bed. Still in his clothes from the day, he had one arm flung over his eyes in a desperate attempt to shut his brain off. Instead, it just made it easier to see her- not the perfect, polished version always captured on social media, though. The quiet one. The one sitting alone in hospitality. The one who tried to make small talk while he ignored her because of internalized anger meant for someone else. 

The one who hit the floor in front of the valet while he was laughing with people who didn’t matter.  

“Did you even notice?”  

Lily’s words looped, merciless. Direct. Straight to the point. No one told him, because no one thought to. No one expected him to care. He’d taught them, very effectively, that he didn’t care about her.  

By the time the sun crept over the horizon and drifted through his windows, he had replayed every interaction he ever had with her like a bad film he couldn’t quite tear his eyes away from. Her hovering hand when they first met. The way she asked questions that went unanswered. How she never complained. Just- stopped trying.  

He sat up, heart pounding. “Shoot,” he whispered to an empty room.  

Guilt was one thing. He knew that feeling well- it was easy, passive, and self-indulgent if you let it. What gnawed at him now was something else completely. A sharp, restless need to do something. To take action. Not because he wanted to be forgiven- he didn’t deserve that. But to fix what he could, if it wasn’t already broken beyond repair.  

He showered, changed, and skipped breakfast- no appetite. At the paddock, he smiled and gave scripted answers. Drove the car, but the sharp edge that set him apart was missing. His PR rep watched him carefully, eyebrows knitting together.  

“You alright?” she asked softly as they walked through a back hall to some other interview.  

“No,” he said, honest for once in his life. Then, he stopped. “I- I need her contract.”  

The PR rep stilled as well. “What are you talking about?”  

“(Y/n)’s contract. All of it. Terms, expectations, emergency protocols- everything.”  

Concern flickered across the woman’s face. “Lando-” 

“I should have known,” he snapped, then softened immediately, running a hand through his hair. “Please. I- I just want to read it.”  

An hour later and back at his hotel room, he sat alone with the PDF pulled up on his tablet. For the first time in his life, he read a contract cover to cover by himself. With every line, his jaw tightened a fracture. There it was, in black and white. Their entire relationship. Each scheduled appearance, public contract clauses, image guidelines. 

Then came the worst part- the payment. The student loans being paid off, the rest of her tuition being covered. The bonus salary. The promise of connections to major firms in Monaco. He hadn’t even known she was a student- hadn’t known she was almost a lawyer.  

Then, buried in fine print, was the thing he was looking for. “Personal Safety” was the title. A paragraph noting that responsibility for her well-being fell jointly on the team and their “associated representative.” Plans detailing steps that would be taken to prevent stalking, to stop her name from being dragged in the media. Plans for situations that were big and scary- that he hadn’t even thought about. Then it hit him. “Associated representative.” Him. His name, or title rather, was right there and he didn’t even bother to look.  

He stood up abruptly and headed to the hospital. On his way, he stopped to stand at a corner that was selling flowers. As his eyes scanned the colorful and unique bouquets, he realized he had no idea what her favorite flower was. Or what her favorite color was. Or- or anything, really. He could’ve called Oscar, but this had to be something he did himself. Something he had to fix.  

So, he walked into the waiting room of a hospital in an unfamiliar country twenty minutes later, not knowing if she wanted to see him (though he suspected she didn’t) armed with a cluster of soft pink roses and baby’s breath in his hand.  

As he approached the desk, the nurse eyed him carefully. “Can I help you?”  

“Yes- I’m here for (Y/n) (L/n)?” he hesitated. “I- I know I’m not listed.”  

Recognition flashed in her eyes. Not warmth. Just simple understanding.  

“She’s resting. No visitors right now, per her request.” 

Of course.  

“That’s- that’s fine. I just-” he thrust his hand clutching the flowers towards her. “Would you make sure she gets these? Tell her Lando stopped by?”  

The nurse studied him again, looking from his face to the flowers and back again. “I can. No promises.”  

“I don’t need promises,” he breathed out. “Thank you.” 

When Oscar and Lily came by that evening with offerings of take out and a bad comedy DVD, neither of them mentioned the flowers sitting within eyesight. They simply shared a quick glance, knowing they weren’t the ones to send them.  

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

For the rest of the week, Lando tried. Genuinely, really tried. As much as he could, at least. He called the hospital to ask how she was doing. He asked if they were feeding her good. Asked the team if they could make her usual corner in the paddock more comfortable. “It’s conducive for studying,” he had argued, but the truth was, he just wanted her to have a space that felt a little more like home.  

Oscar noticed, of course, being around him as much as he is. A few nights later, he recounted the stories besides (Y/n) and Lily.  

“-and I’m pretty sure the hospital would have blocked him already, if that wasn’t probably illegal.” Based on the hum of agreement that came from the nurse in the room taking vitals, it sounded like that was probably the case. What Oscar didn’t share was that one night, once he’d properly returned to work, Lando had approached him. Offered a simple and quiet “Thank you for staying with her,” and walked off. Oscar had just nodded, watching his retreating back. Lando had been- quieter? Recently? Seemed settled or perhaps... weighed down.  

(Y/n) did not know what to do with this information. Not only was she being consistently detoxed from some foreign agent in her body, woken up at all hours of the day and surviving on bland food- now, the guy who’d ignored her and she was convinced hated her was quietly taking care of her. Even when she didn’t reach out after he sent flowers. Even when he wasn’t there in person.  

It was confusing. And maddening. And upsetting. She was not some convenient toy to be tossed around, only remembered if something happens to her. She was a real person with hopes and dreams and ambitions- and so much more than Lando Norris had decided she was before they met.  

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------  

Two weeks later, she was finally back in the paddock. Lando saw her before she saw him. She was walking behind Lily, head down, chatting about something softly. Her smile was small, but real. He caught a faint glimpse of a bruise around her wrist, yellowed but healing, before she quickly tugged her sleeve down. Someone must have caught her when she passed out and left it. He hated that he didn’t know.  

Despite wanting to walk over, to take a closer look, to make sure she was real and actually okay- he didn’t approach. Not yet. It was she who found him- eventually. Late afternoon, after the practices for the day were done. She stopped a few feet away from where he sat on a bench; arms crossed loosely and expression calm but guarded in a way that made his throat close.  

“I heard you wanted to see me?” she asked. Polite. Professional. ...distant.  

“Yes,” he said immediately, then forced himself to take a breath. “I- thank you. For- for coming to talk to me, I mean.” 

She raised an eyebrow slightly.  

He nodded, accepting the subtle skepticism. “First- I’m sorry.”  

She didn’t respond. Didn’t argue. Didn’t soften. Just- waited.  

“I had no idea. I didn’t even think- and, and that’s not an excuse. It’s... the problem. I should have known. I shouldn’t have walked away from your side, much less let you out of my sight.” His hands picked at his pant seam now. “I failed you.”  

Something flickered across her face then- not forgiveness. Miraculously, still not anger. Weariness.  

“I didn’t ask you to save me,” she said quietly. “I just asked you to be decent.”  

The words hurt more than anything else she could have said. He could’ve accepted it if she was angry, if she yelled at him. If she said she was going to back out of the contract now and no money would be worth having to be around him. It would be justified. He would understand. But this- this quiet resignation, like the situation was inevitable for her. Not an if, but a when. Like this version of him was something she’d grown to expect. He hated it.  

“I know,” he finally replied. “And I wasn’t. I’m trying to be now.”  

Her lips pressed together. “Trying because you feel bad?”  

“Trying because I care-” he said- too fast- and stilled. “And because I didn’t realize how much I had let you down until someone else showed up first.”  

She studied his face for a moment, in a way she hadn’t since they first met. The paddock noise faded into the distance. “You abandoned me, Lando.” she said finally. “Publicly, privately- over and over. So, if this is guilt?” She shrugged. “You’re gonna have to earn your way out of it.”  

Relief and dread tangled in his chest like a complicated dance. Earning it meant there was something left to be earned. 

“Okay. Done.” he said simply. “Tell me how.”  

She shook her head. “That’s not how this works. You don’t get instructions.” 

He hated how fair that was.  

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Lando had always been good at reacting. At doing what he was told. Coaching notes, media training, PR damage control. This was different, however. It required observation. Presence. Consistency.  

So, he started there. He paid attention. The next race weekend, he sat with her in the corner she always hid away in. The one he had the seating swapped out in so it was more comfortable. He learned through existing next to her that she liked it because it was great for people watching and conveniently positioned next to an outlet. He didn’t try to talk to her or reach for her, but he also didn’t open his phone. He just sat, legs angled towards her like he belonged there.  

She had glanced at him, once. Surprised. Said nothing.  

That was... okay.  

Then, he learned her rhythms. She studied in focused bursts, lips moving silently as she read. She prefered tea in the morning and coffee in the afternoon, contrary to what he would’ve assumed. She stiffened when strangers stood too close, even if she didn’t say anything about it.  

Once a sponsor had interrupted her mid-sentence in the paddock, talking over her like she wasn’t there. Lando didn’t raise his voice or make an embarrassment of the man. He just turned, calm and unbothered, to face her.  

“Sorry (Y/n). Please, continue. I wanted to hear your thoughts.”  

And it was true. It was painfully true in a way made more and more obvious the more he listened to her. She was rarely speaking to him, but her intelligence and unwavering ability to communicate her thoughts was the most intoxicating thing he’d ever consumed.  

She hadn’t thanked him for cutting off the sponsor. He didn’t expect her to, didn’t want her to. But, he saw the way her shoulders relaxed for a fraction of a second and Lando counted that as something earned.  

Oscar noticed next.  

He was leaning against the counter one day, waiting for the next meeting to begin. He watched as Lando passed by (Y/n)’s studying figure and paused only long enough to set a snack on her table. There was no joke or comment, a complete lack of the usual unserious man.  

That afternoon, he was sat at the table with her listening raptly as she explained the answer to a question he asked about her notes. His head was tilted in concentration, his focus absolute. His phone, which used to be perpetually glued to his hand when (Y/n) was around, now sat plugged in at a different table on the opposite side of the room.  

Oscar stopped him as they crossed paths later.  

“You’re different.” He said. It wasn’t accusatory, it was said simply. Like stating a fact.  

Lando didn’t bristle or deflect. “I was wrong. Painfully. But I know better now.”  

The other man studied his face for a moment longer than what was comfortable. Then- he offered a single nod. “Good.”  

Lily was less subtle. She had been gone a couple weeks, much to her aggravation. She didn’t want to leave (Y/n) alone after what happened last time she was gone, but her friend insisted she go back to her actual job “saving the world or whatever it is you engineers do.”  

As she walked in, she caught Lando setting a hot coffee with extra sugar in it beside (Y/n) just like Lily always had. Her eyebrows shot up, eyes flicking between the two. “Oh,” she murmured under her breath.  

Later, Lily cornered her in the washroom. “He’s trying,” she said simply.  

“Yes. He is.” (Y/n) continued washing her hands. 

“And?”  

“And trying isn’t the same as earning. It only leads to it.” Lily smiled now, sharp and approving.  

“I knew I liked you.”  

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Race by race, Lando kept showing up. If she was being honest with herself, (Y/n) really thought he was feeling guilty and would slowly but surely lose interest in this little charity project he had going on.  

Instead, he started walking her back to the hotel at night. This time, it wasn’t because of cameras but because he remembered the bruise on her wrist and the way he felt not knowing what happened to her that night. He didn’t insist. He just waited. If she said no, pushed back at all, he let her go without argument.  

When she said yes, he matched her pace. Walked silently. It was awkward at first, neither of them saying anything but clearly deep in their thoughts. They would arrive, and he would offer a low “Sleep well,” or “Good night,” before going to his own room.  

One night, she spoke first.  

“You don’t have to do this.”  

“I know,” he replied simply.  

She risked a quick glance and continued. “Then why are you?”  

He didn’t answer right away. “Because I want to be someone who shows up. Whether you choose me or not. I want to be there.”  

That stopped her. Not softened- not yet- but stilled.  

Weeks passed. The fake relationship blurred into something less defined. The cameras still caught them, of course. But behind the scenes, there was more time spent together.  

One night, they were tucked in the corner of a hotel lounge. She was reading a textbook for class and he was pretending the fact that her leg brushed against him and stayed there fifteen minutes ago wasn’t driving him mad.  

She gently shut the book and turned her face towards him. “You’re not rushing me.”  

He shook his head. “I don’t get to.” 

There was a pause. Then, softer- “Thank you.”  

It wasn’t forgiveness. It wasn’t not forgiveness. It was something more like trust, beginning to rebuild itself in the shadows. And this time? Lando would stay exactly where he was without wondering how long it would take.   

[majesticallyglimmeringprophecy]

"Who Shows Up" part 2 coming this week! Wednesday or Thursday most likely. Unfortunately, over the past month I've been obligated to work on my degree (the one I signed up for). Luckily, end of season also means end of classes, so go ahead and send in requests if you have anymore. A blissful three weeks of writing is soon to arrive...

[majesticallyglimmeringprophecy]

hi, I’m a big no.12 fan. So do you think you could do Sabrina’s when did you get so hot with Kimi pls? but clean versions pls. Cause I don’t like swearing. 😅🤭🇮🇹🇮🇹 but angst fluff/comfort (like reader has a panic attack and Kimi helped her but she doesn’t realise it’s him then she asks how he knew *her* way of calming her down which is hold her hands together compression helps)

EC xx (not my proper entails prefer to keep that anonymous)

Tyyyyy smmm

When Did You Get Hot?

(Y/n) x Kimi Antonelli

1k+ words

Jr. engineer!reader, protective/ soft Kimi, mentions of anxiety/ panic attacks

Pressure. Speed. Noise.  

That was the world (Y/n) grew up in. The world of karting; split-second decisions, burning rubber and adrenaline that buzzed in her veins and never fully dissipated. She gave it everything she had- until the day it all changed.  

Some kid spun out and before she could react, slammed into her side. The kart flipped once, twice, too many times. Fire, smoke. Screams. A blur of orange flames and blue paneling.  

When she woke up it was to the sting of bandages and the quiet hum of hospital machines, surrounded by flowers and cards. It took months of physical therapy (and even longer of regular therapy) before she stepped foot on a track again. Even after her return and rise up the ranks again, her odds of finding a sponsor had plummeted. Young women didn’t get many chances in motorsport, and one high-profile accident could end it all.  

Still, she couldn’t stay away.  

Her love for being in the car soon became a love for making the car run- the airflow, the speed and the perfect, predictable, symmetry of design. It took her to school for aerospace engineering, and a year later, she landed a dream internship with Mercedes as a junior engineer.  

Long hours in Brackley, late nights fine-tuning micro-adjustments to the front wing, data analysis, simulator runs. She didn’t mind any of it. She was back in her element- in control.  

Until today.  

It was her first time traveling with the team, her first time in the paddock. Nervous, but excited- she knew she belonged here. This morning she pulled on a team kit, tied her hair back and laced up her Adidas and walked into the garage with a grin she couldn’t suppress. 

Then FP1 started. Someone crashed. An Alpine rookie- he spun out and clipped another car at Turn 1. Metal screamed, carbon shattered, and before she could even blink, fire and smoke erupted. It hit her like a physical blow. The sounds, the smoke, the shouting- too familiar. Too close. 

Her lungs forgot how to breathe. The noise around her faded, then sharpened. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, vision going black around the edges. She stumbled backwards, out of the away, hand over her mouth. Her throat burned, phantom smoke and fire. Pressing herself into the cold back corner of the garage she sank down, knees trembling, trying to make herself small and invisible.  

She barely noticed when someone knelt beside her. Not until two strong hands gently but firmly grabbed one of hers- grounding, solid and real.  

It wasn’t a comforting touch. It was firm. Intentional. A “stay with me” kind of grip. The pressure pulled her out of the spiral just enough for her to catch a shaky breath. Then another. And another. Whoever it was didn’t speak, just sat beside her, hand steady, body a quiet shield against the chaos of the paddock.  

Finally, when she brought herself to open her eyes, she froze. 

Kimi Antonelli.  

Her breath caught again- but this time, not from panic. They had known each other years ago, rivals on the karting circuit, constantly trading wins and teasing jabs. Not friends- not really, but connected in that wordless way kids going through the same things are. She hadn’t seen him in years. And now, well. Here he was.  

“Kimi?” she practically croaked, her voice barely above a whisper. 

He looked up, his brown eyes soft. “(Y/n/n)...” 

“What- what are you doing?”  

His eyes flickered down to their interlocked hands like he’d only just realized he was still holding hers. “...Calming you down,” he said, Italian accent coloring the words. “Is it... working?”  

She let out a shaky laugh, one part embarrassed and another part grateful. “Yeah. It is.” 

Silence stretched between them, soft and strange. The chaos of the track had faded to background noise- just a hum under the beating of her heart.  

“How did you know?” she finally asked. 

His brow furrowed. “Know what?”  

“That... all I needed was that. The-” she lifted their hands slightly. “The compression thing.” 

Kimi’s thumb brushed over her knuckles absently as he thought. “I remembered,” he finally said simply. 

“From when we were kids?”  

He nodded. “Yeah. After your crash. I had asked over the radio what happened, but no one would tell me. I didn’t know how bad it was until days later. When you came back, I could tell. It was the little things. How you’d flinch at certain sounds, how the people who cared about you always grabbed your hands when things got to be too much. I don’t know why I remembered that detail, but... I guess I did.” 

Her throat tightened again, but this time, it was for a different reason.

“You really noticed all of that?”  

He shrugged, his cheeks turning pink. “You were the best I ever raced. Of course I noticed.”  

She let out a soft laugh, then turned to look at him again. Properly this time. The sharp lines of his face, the curls that refused to stay in place, the necklace he still refused to take off. He wasn’t the quiet, awkward kid she used to know. He’d grown into himself. Confident. Calm. Kind. And, if she was being completely honest with herself, incredibly attractive.  

“You’ve really grown up, you know that?” she said quietly.  

He blinked. “What?” 

“You’re not the same boy I used to fight with in the paddock. You’re thoughtful, gentle. It’s really nice.”  

Kimi ducked his head, trying to hide a faint smirk. “Thanks,” he murmured. Then, softer: “You have too.”  

They sat there for a moment longer, just breathing. The noise of the garage slowly returned as people resumed their work, the moment shirking into something quiet and safe between them. Finally, she stood up and hesitated before letting go of his hand.  

In an attempt to break the tension, she said: “Honestly, Kimi. When did you get hot?”  

He fully grinned this time- shy, but undeniably warm. “Maybe around the same time you did,” was his cheeky response before he hopped up to join her.  

They walked back towards the car together, arms brushing, and for the first time in a long time the engine roaring didn’t scare her. It felt like home again.  

[kyown]

i’ve reached a point my beloved

[majesticallyglimmeringprophecy]

Who Shows Up

(Y/n) x Lando Norris Platonic!Oscar and Lily

4.3k+ words

fake relationship, very slow burn, strangers to..?

Part One | Part Two | Part Three?

Lando was, in short, out of control. In the past month alone, photos of him on three different yachts, at five different clubs, and with more than a few different women had popped up online. He had treated the off season like his own personal afterparty, which- fine. He had earned a break after that season. But now, McLaren built a rocket ship, and he had a serious chance at actually winning this thing. He just... wouldn’t get very far if everyone still saw him as a party boy.  

After weeks of meetings, strategy sessions, and enough power points to make even George Russell cry, the expert PR team with decades of degrees and experience in crisis-management came to a single brilliant, groundbreaking solution: a fake girlfriend.  

Enter (Y/n). 

Lando, who couldn’t keep a houseplant alive. Lando, who forgot meals unless someone from the team literally placed food in front of him. Lando, fresh off what could only be described as his own personal Brat Summer- that Lando was expected to suddenly have a stable, believable relationship with a woman he didn’t even know.  

To his credit, he fought it. Said it was stupid and old fashioned. That it never ended well. People always found out; the backlash would get worse. He even refused to participate. And yet, here she was. A quiet law student in her final year, she looked out of place among the constant noise of the MTC. She wore a simple, elegant outfit- slacks, a tailored blouse, heels just high enough to look polished without screaming for attention. Typing on her laptop tucked in a corner, she only paused to thank a staff member who handed her water.  

Lando’s media officer guided him over.  

“This is (Y/n), your girlfriend. As of today.” She stood immediately, offering a polite smile and her hand. Lando barely looked up from his phone.  

“Yeah, great, whatever.” Her hand hovered awkwardly before she withdrew it, smoothing it against her slacks instead.  

“It’s nice to meet you,” she tried, still holding kindness in her tone. 

“Mhm.” He turned to his media officer, bored. “I only have to see her during the contracted hours, right?”  

The woman sighed. “Technically. But it would be helpful if you at least-”  

He was already walking away.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first public outing was a lunch in Monaco before the season opener. The PR team insisted she couldn’t just appear at a race. There needed to be sightings first- blurry photos of hand holding and comment sections full of speculation. So here she was, smoothing her hands over a soft blue sundress, reapplying her lipstick and telling herself it would all be fine. Instead of feeling butterflies though, the pit in her stomach was one of dread.  

She met him in a quiet PR office tucked behind the glamourous streets- one of those places that kept the facade of the city running. “Hi,” she had said, gentle but hopeful. Maybe he was just really tired or stressed the other day.

“Hey,” was his response with barely a glance. He wore nice slacks and a crisp button up with sleeves rolled to the forearms. He looked... annoyingly good. She looked away before she could think about that for too long.  

In the car he drove with one hand, the other resting casually on the center console as though it didn’t want to stray too far from his beloved. It was perfectly placed for cameras that didn’t yet exist. Inside the car, however, the silence pressed heavier than any paparazzi flash ever could.  

At the restaurant, tucked in a shadowy corner, she tried again.  

“How are you doing?” Nothing.  

“The weather is so beautiful today.” Silence.  

“This menu looks... really good?” He scrolled, disinterested.  

With a deep breath she tried one last thing. “Look, I don’t love this either. But wouldn’t it be easier if we were at least... I don’t know. Friendly?” No response.  

“I don’t even need to be friends. Just... some small talk might be nice.” 

Finally, he lifted his eyes to her. They were clear, unreadable. “I told them I wasn’t interested.” And then he looked back down.  

The next outings were all the same. In public, his hands would linger on her waist. He would guide her through crowds with a gentle hand on her back, smile at her like she was the only person in the room. Cameras loved it. Then, the second they were alone, he would step away like she was on fire and disappear into his phone. She felt like a ghost, a prop. (Y/n) knew what she signed up for, she just didn’t know it would feel this lonely. 

Race weekends were the worst. He’d walk her in, paparazzi flashing away, and then... vanish. She’d find a quiet corner in hospitality and bury herself in textbooks and case studies for hours, surrounded by the roar of engines and fans. She was isolated- too seen to be invisible, too overlooked to belong.  

Until the third race.  

She had wandered towards the garage during qualifying, more out of boredom than interest, when someone stepped beside her.  

“(Y/n), right?” The voice was soft but bright and distinctly British, like someone opening a window in a stuffy room.  

“Yeah. And you’re... Lily?” The woman smiled easily.  

“I’ve seen you around. Figured it’d be rude not to say hi.” It was such a simple sentence, but it cracked something open. They talked through the whole session- trivial things like nail polish shades, podcasts, and how impossible it was to find decent coffee at circuits. As the evening wrapped up, Lily nudged her gently.  

“It’s chaotic here. It’s nice to have someone normal to talk to.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That race came and went, but Lily remained somewhat constant in (Y/n)’s life. Quiet lunches at the track. Early morning car rides to the paddock when the boys had to be there before sunrise. Nights with takeout containers and bad movies while they complained of jet lag. It was easy and simple. Real.  

So, when both couples arrived to the hotel at the same time one night and Lily watched Lando drop (Y/n)’s hand like it burned before speed-walking towards the elevator without so much as a goodnight, she exchanged a look with Oscar. Without missing a beat, Lily turned to (Y/n).  

“Come eat with us,” she said like it wasn’t even a question. Oscar nodded, already holding the door to the hotel restaurant open. (Y/n) agreed, not wanting to go upstairs and be alone yet. Besides, Oscar was always kind in passing, greeting her properly and asking how she was doing when their paths crossed. It was more effort than her so-called boyfriend had ever shown, so she figured it wouldn’t be the most awkward experience of the past couple months.  

A glass of wine later and halfway through a plate of pasta, Lily gently voiced the question that had been bugging her for the duration of their friendship.  

“(Y/n), why- why would you agree to the contract? You’re not-” she hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “You’re not getting publicity out of it. You’re not networking or trying to be seen. You study through half of the paddock events, and I’ve taught you everything you know about Formula 1.”  

(Y/n) paused, then slowly lifted her eyes to meet Lily’s. There was no accusation there- just genuine curiosity. Maybe even a hint of concern.  

“You’re right,” she admitted quietly. “I didn’t want to do it. McLaren pushed. Hard. They said they didn’t want a model or someone after the spotlight- they said they needed me. Someone ‘normal’. Then- they offered to pay off all of my student loans. Undergrad, law school... everything. And they’re getting me connections at law firms in Monaco. And they’re just... paying me too. Like a salary. I had been working three jobs just to get by. Now I can focus on studying. It... changes things.” 

Lily’s face softened immediately. Oscar leaned back slightly, eyebrows raised- not judgmental, just surprised.  

“You’re a lawyer?”  

“Soon, hopefully,” she smiled. He nods, reassessing her, and then hums softly with newfound respect.  

“Remind me not to get on your bad side, then,” he lightly comments earning a laugh from the group. Dinner stretched on longer than any of them intended for it to. Plates were long cleared, wine glasses empty and replaced by water.  

Lily leans forward, chin propped on her hand. “So you’re just doing law school assignments in hospitality all day while Lando does whatever he does?”  

She nods. “Pretty much.”  

Oscar made a thoughtful noise. “That’s criminal behavior.”  

Lily flicked a crumb at him. “You just called a future lawyer’s situation criminal. That’s practically asking for trouble.” He holds up his hands in mock surrender, grin tugging at his mouth. 

“You’re right. Legally, I retract my statement.”  

For the first time in weeks, (Y/n) laughed- really laughed, the kind that reached her eyes. Lily’s smile widened like she’d been waiting for that exact sound.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, she found them waiting outside the hotel lobby after Lando shot her a text that said, “Busy. Don’t wait up.”  

Oscar leaned against the side of a team shuttle with sunglasses on and a croissant in hand. “We figured you might want coffee that wasn’t brewed by a paddock intern who hates their life.”  

Lily held out a cup with a bright, knowing smile. “Extra sugar, yeah?” 

(Y/n) blinked, confused. “How did you-?” 

“You grimaced the other day when you tasted mine,” she said simply. “Filed that away.” 

Oscar nodded solemnly like this was a matter of severe importance. “We run a very professional operation.” He then turned and sat in the passenger seat, leaving the two girls to sit next to each other in the back row. (Y/n) settled in, coffee warm in her hands, and something even warmer in her chest.  

Soon, their routine was unofficial but solid.  

In hospitality, Oscar would wander over and drop random snacks on her table like an offering to a studying creature he didn’t want to startle. Lily would lean over the back of her chair during free practice and dramatically whisper updates about the most unimportant things. Sometimes, Oscar would pick up a sheet of her notes and quiz her on legal definitions like it was a game. Other times, Lily would take her notebook and draw hearts and smiles in the margins just to make her laugh.  

It was on a crazy busy day that things took a turn. (Y/n) was tucked away in her usual quiet corner, studying, as chaos rippled through the garage and hospitality. Eventually, it became too much, and she slipped out for a walk in need of air on a path she’d taken hundreds of times by now.  

She didn’t even see it coming. An overambitious engineer, rushing with a toolbox clearly too heavy for one person, swung around the corner just as she passed. The edge clipped her arm hard- the pain sharp and immediate. She staggered back, hand flying up to cradle the bruising skin. The engineer’s face drained of color, clearly recognizing her. He set the toolbox down with a loud clatter and apologized so fast it came out as a single panicked string of words. (Y/n) reassured him it was okay, an accident, and that she was fine.  

Only after he stopped looking like he might actually cry did she reroute her walk towards the medical tent. She wasn’t hurt that bad, really. She just wanted some salve on it, maybe something to ease the bruising. The nurse on staff examined her then nodded, calm and efficient. 

“You’ll be alright. We’re just going to notify your emergency contact, and you can be on your way.”  

“Oh- that’s not necessary. I’m fine, really.”  

“It’s just protocal,” the nurse said with a kind but immovable tone. “You don’t have to do anything; we just log the incident.”  

She watched, uneasy, as the nurse dialed and the phone rang with no response. A professional voicemail was left, and that was it.  

It wasn’t until another dinner with Lily and Oscar a few nights later that she voiced her concerns.  

“It’s just...” (Y/n) pushed her food around her plate, appetite gone. “They called my mom. She’s in the States. If something actually serious happened, no one here would even know. She might not even see the call until the next morning.”  

Lily’s expression shifted immediately- it was concerned, sharp and protective. Oscar paused, mid-twist of pasta, and watched his girlfriend carefully. She reached across the table to (Y/n)’s hand, her fingers brushing her.  

“(Y/n)... that’s terrible. I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t have to feel uncomfortable like that, especially when you’re practically in a new country every week.”  

She nods in agreement. “It’s just... unfortunate, I guess. Odds are someone might not even notice something’s not right until I missed a flight.”  

Lily nods, clearly thinking. “Make me your contact.”  

(Y/n)’s eyes soften at the other woman’s offer, genuine friendship shining through it. “Lils, you’re not at every race. I would hate for you to be in the same position of getting a call and not being able to do anything.”  

Lily leans back, thinking. “That’s a good point. You’ll list Oscar.”  

His fork freezes midair. “You’ll... what?”   

She gestured vaguely between them. “(Y/n)’s always with Lando. So are you. Therefore- by extension- you're always around (Y/n).” 

(Y/n) blinked. “That’s... not exactly foolproof logic.” 

“It’s perfect logic.” Lily countered.  

Oscar looked at (Y/n). Really looked at her. Saw the hesitation there, the quiet fear she didn’t want to name. “If something happened,” he started quietly, “I’d want to know.”  

(Y/n)’s breath caught just a little bit. Lily nodded, decisive. “See? Settled. Let’s put it in your phone right now- Oscar Piastri, emergency contact.”  

He set his fork down, nodding solemnly like he was accepting a knighthood. “I promise to always answer the phone, unless I am actively on fire or in a gravel trap.”  

(Y/n) tried to laugh it off, but her eyes burned just slightly. “You guys don’t have to-” 

Lily cut her off before she could even finish. “Relationships aren’t just who’s listed on paper. Sometimes it’s about who actually shows up.” 

Oscar slid his glass towards her like a toast, a quiet smile tugging at his mouth. “And we show up.”  

As the glasses clinked, for the first time since the contract began, she believed it.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After that night, things went on as usual. Of course they did. (Y/n) was a responsible, self-sufficient adult woman. She could handle herself. She played the role of Lando’s perfect girlfriend when cameras were around, then slipped away as soon as possible to find Lily and Oscar. They were the only ones who felt remotely real in this entire circus.  

Things with Lando had never improved. Not for her lack of effort, of course. She had still continued to try- ask about his day, car setup, even his stupid love for golf. He’d give her one-word answers or nod without acknowledging she’d spoken. Eventually, it was easier to just not try at all. Distance was easier to ignore when the person ignoring you clearly didn't think you were pretty or worthy enough to even look at.

Tonight was no different. It was a charity gala- cameras, champagne, glittering sponsors in tuxedos and gowns. They entered arm-in-arm for the flash of photographers, exchanged a few polite words with important people, and posed. The second they were out of the spotlight however, Lando slipped away.  

(Y/n) stood alone in the crowd for a second, hands folded in front of her, doing a quick survey of the room. Lily was back in England for an engineering event. Oscar was locked in on a conversation with a cluster of people in suits that she was sure cost more than her degree- something she did not need to interrupt.  

With a quiet sigh, she retreated to the bar. She leaned forward and asked the bartender for a glass of wine and tried to blend into the background. That’s when someone else approached.  

“Lando’s girl- right?” The man was older and had the kind of smile that came from never being told no. His eyes swept over her in a way that made her skin crawl. “Didn’t know he had such good taste.”  

She forced a polite smile. “Thank you. I’m just waiting for him.”  

He stepped closer. “You shouldn’t have to. Guys like that- they don’t appreciate women who actually know how to stand still and look pretty.”  

A chill ran up (Y/n)’s spine as she stiffened. “I should go.”  

He reached out as if to touch her arm. “Come on, don’t be like that-”  

She stepped back sharply, wine glass held close to her chest like a shield. “I said, I have to go.” His smile thinned and his eyes flashed with irritation before he slipped into the crowd. (Y/n) took a big swig of her drink before setting it on a passing tray as she left the room. Stupid gala, stupid night, stupid Lando. She just wanted to get a taxi back to the hotel and go to bed.  

But her head felt... strange. Too light, too heavy. A slow fog was creeping through her senses. No, no, no. Her pulse spiked and the room tilted. People blurred into moving shapes, laughter warped into distant echoes. She pushed through the crowd, vision tunneling. The exit. Just get outside.  

Her heels scraped on marble, breaths coming out shallow and panicked. She barely made it past the doors before her knees buckled. An employee in a black uniform caught her just as she crumpled to the ground. “Miss- Miss? Hey- someone call an ambulance!”  

The world went dark.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Oscar had just finished listening to a donor who rambled on about something or other for entirely too long when his phone buzzed. He pulled it out lazily, barely glancing at the screen, half expecting a meaningless notification. Instead, the screen flashed with “Unknown Number.”  

A cold feeling settled in his stomach as he stepped away to press the phone to his ear. 

“Hello?”  

“Hello. Is this Oscar Piastri?” His brows furrowed, trying to figure out if maybe a fan had gotten his number. But the woman sounded calm, professional.  

“This is he.”  

“This is Saint Augustine Medical Center. You’re listed as the emergency contact for (Y/n) (L/n). She was found unconscious and is being admitted now- we need you to confirm medical authorization.” 

For a moment, Oscar’s world simply... muted. The clinking glasses, polite laughter, flickering chandeliers- it all warped into something distant and irrelevant.  

“I’m on my way.” He hung up before the woman on the other end had a chance to respond. Oscar swiveled his head around, locking eyes on Zak from across the room. He was mid-laugh with a sponsor, but the second he saw Oscar’s face, it faded. 

“I have to go.” His voice flat and decisive. Zak blinked.  

“Go? What are you-” 

“It’s (Y/n)-” he cuts him off. “I just got a call, she’s in the hospital-”   

Zak’s face hardens immediately. “Go. I’ll take care of it.”  

Oscar did not waste another second, already moving towards the exit, his focus absolute. He drove towards the hospital with the speed and precision that could only come from years behind the wheel. The thought of her being alone and vulnerable and unconscious surrounded by strangers- suddenly nothing else mattered more than the quiet law student who relied on him and Lily to show up.  

By the time he reached the hospital, he barely remembered getting there. He sped through the automatic doors in his polished gala attire, entirely out of place amongst the night shift staff and sterile walls.  

“I’m here for (Y/n) (L/n)? I’m her emergency contact.”  

The woman working the front desk glanced at her screen, then back up at him. “Are you a relative?”  

“No,” he said quickly. “But I’m a friend. Someone who won’t leave.”  

She held his gaze for a moment, then nodded. “She’s stable. They’re running tests, but she’s not awake yet. We can’t allow visitors until the initial assessment is completed, but we have seen traces of a GHB derivative in her system. It’s likely someone slipped a common drug into a drink of hers.”  

The word drug made his jaw clench so hard it ached. He thanked her stiffly before finding a seat in the waiting room, calling the only other person who would want to get here as soon as possible.

Lily picked up immediatley. “Osc? What’s up, aren’t you at the-”  

“It’s (Y/n),” he cut her off softly. “She- they think someone roofied her at the gala. The hospital called me. She’s still out.”  

She went quiet on the other end of the line for a moment. “Is she-” 

“They don’t know yet,” he answered quietly. “She was alone. Lando left her. Again.”  

A sharp inhale met his statement. “I’m booking a flight. Stay with her until I get there.” 

“I’m not going anywhere.”  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, Lando was in a better mood than usual. His PR rep hadn’t asked him to give (Y/n) a lift to the paddock, so he was likely free until after the day ended. He strolled past the milling reporters and whirring engines, casual energy, and sunglasses on. Yeah. Today was a good day.  

He didn’t get far.  

One of the McLaren mechanics (Robbie, awkward, well-meaning, really) passed by with a wheel gun slung over his shoulder.  

“Hey, mate,” he started with a sympathetic half smile. “Really sorry about (Y/n) by the way. Hope she’s doing alright. Scary stuff.”  

Lando stopped walking. “...What?” 

Robbie blinked at the man. “Uh. Y’know. The hospital thing? Last night?” 

He stared, expression blank. “What hosptial thing?”  

Robbie frowned, now confused. “Oh. Well, Oscar bolted out of the gala early. Hospital called him, she got admitted or something. I assumed you knew?” 

The paddock suddenly felt- muffled. Off. Lando’s stomach dropped. Poor Robbie, sensing he said too much, gave a stiff nod and hurried off. All around him, paddock life continued- mechanics shouting, PR reps scheduling interviews, cameras clicking. It all felt like background noise compared to the roaring in his head.  

Hospital. Oscar ran out. They- they called him.  

If Lando was being completely honest, he didn’t even know (Y/n) and Oscar were that close. He didn’t even know they were friends. He had noticed her chat with Lily a few times, but isn’t that just an obligation?  

He reached for his phone- not with urgency, but with something closer to dread. No missed calls. No unread messages. Nothing. No one even thought to clue him in to what was happening.  

Then he noticed something else: Oscar wasn’t there. It was nearly time to start media, and the man who was always early to being early was absent. Not only that, his schedule was still waiting to be picked up on the table.  

A social media coordinator saw Lando staring. “Oscar will be here soon. He was just waiting for Lily to arrive at the hospital, and then he’s coming over. Zak already cleared it.” 

Lando’s stomach twisted. Robbie knew, this girl knew, Zak knew. Everyone knew. Everyone but him. Isn’t he the one who mattered? How come no one thought to mention this?  

Ten minutes later, Oscar walked in through a side entrance. He didn’t look... great. The suit jacket from the night before was thrown over his arm, creased like it had been slept in. His eyes were red- not from crying, but rather from being awake in a fluorescent hospital room all night.  

Oscar didn’t even flick his eyes up to Lando as he walked by. He walked past him, pulling his phone out as if already checking for an update from Lily.  

Lando opened his mouth. “Oscar-” 

The other man didn’t slow. “Not now.”  

It wasn’t explosive, or even rude. It was something far worse- dismissive. Like Lando’s concerns held no weight, like he was just looking for some paddock gossip and he didn’t really have the right to ask.  

His throat felt dry. “I had no idea- no one told me.” 

That, finally, made Oscar stop. “Why would they?”  

The words hit harder than any criticism or headline ever had. Oscar held his gaze for a moment, then continued. “You weren't the emergency contact.”  

Someone called Oscar’s name from the other room and he stepped away. Long after he was gone, Lando stood in the hall thinking. The walls of the paddock felt like they were closing in, too many eyes, too much talk about things that didn’t matter. His heartbeat thundered in his ears. He could see it all in his head- not her smiling and tucked under his arm like the perfect PR girlfriend she pretended to be. He saw her alone, outside the venue, scared and hitting the ground.  

And Oscar was the one she had trusted.  

Oscar is the one who ran.  

Not Lando. Lando didn’t even know.  

He stepped back, shaking his head as the guilt and jealousy flooded into him. She was his fake girlfriend, he should have been looking after her. They were in public anyways, he shouldn’t have wandered off. This was all his fault, wasn’t it? 

After minutes of pacing that didn’t do anything to help, he pulled his phone out, thumb hovering over the dial icon next to her name. Finally pressing it, the tone rang three times. Eventually, someone picked up.  

“Lily speaking.”  

Lando’s stomach plummeted. “Where is she?” It came out raw, frantic. “Lily, where is she- how bad- why didn’t anyone-”  

“Woah, Lando,” she cut him off. Her tone wasn’t cruel, just... matter of fact. “She’s resting. You don’t need to come. Oscar and I have it handled.  

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” A pause.

“Did you even notice?”  

The dial tone beeped. If he hit it or if she did didn’t matter in this moment. All that mattered is Lando stood alone in the paddock, realizing how terribly he dismissed and was utterly rude to this poor girl for multiple months, and now she was in the hospital because of him.  

And for the first time... he realized he might already be too late.

[majesticallyglimmeringprophecy]

I have a little (big) something in the works for tomorrow, but in the meantime, feel free to request anything for Osc, Max, Lando or Kimi. I will 100% be more motivated to write if it's something I know you want to read...

[majesticallyglimmeringprophecy]

Too Much?

(Y/n) x Max Verstappen

1k+ words

angst to fluff, sunshine x grumpy, soft/ reassuring max

Max was in a mood. It wasn’t unusual by any means. After a long week of media, simulator sessions, back-to-back sponsor calls- well, wouldn’t you be grumpy too? Tonight was different, however. The weight seemed to settle on his shoulders heavier than usual. He had practically dragged himself into the apartment, toed off his shoes and thrown himself onto the couch with his limbs sprawled and head tilted back.  

(Y/n), the human embodiment of sunshine Max called his girlfriend, sat across from him and started animatedly recounting the events of her day. Normally he loved to listen to her stories, as long winded as they may be. Said that it helped distract him from the pressures of the track, that it made him feel normal. He would shut his brain off and look at her with those loving puppy eyes he always had when he listened intently. Today, though, as she waved her hands around in the air, he rubbed his hand over his face and sighed.  

“...and then! The barista was all confused because she thought I ordered two drinks, and really, I had only wanted the one-”  

He finally looked up at her. “Can you just get to the point?”  

The words weren’t sharp, not exactly- but they landed like glass shattering in her heart. (Y/n)’s throat went dry and her hands froze mid-air. Max knew better. He knew how her love language was quality time and words of affirmation. Knew that she struggled with being called “too loud” and “too much” her whole childhood and adolescence. Knew that her parents would ask her “How was your day?” and would quickly tell her she had three minutes because they didn’t “have time to listen to her all night.” He knew how hard she’d worked to stop shrinking herself, to stop rethinking every word before it left her mouth.  

With a quick swallow and look away, she forced herself to finish. “Right. Uh- they gave me both drinks. That was it.” Her tone was clipped, nothing like her usual bubbling excitement. As she wrapped her arms around herself and sat still for a moment, Max didn’t notice the shift in her demeanor as he was too wrapped up in his exhaustion. The rest of the night passed quietly. Too quietly.  

The next morning, Max woke up to an unfamiliar silence. There was no soft humming from the kitchen, no rambling commentary about the news she read before she got up this morning. More so, the spot next to him in bed wasn’t even warm. She had been up for a while.  

When he finally ventured out of the bedroom, (Y/n) was making coffee, her back to him. She handed him a mug, just the way he liked it, without saying a word. “Thanks.” He murmured, watching her. She only nodded.  

The thing is, (Y/n) wasn’t even trying to prove a point. She didn’t want to be mean, didn’t want to hurt him. She genuinely thought that he would prefer the quiet, that he needed the break. She didn’t realize how much he genuinely looked forward to hearing her, how much he missed her voice when he was away at races. How he would call her no matter the time zone just to hear her speak. 

It wasn’t until later, after another day of training and a night not filled with her usual chatter- that he realized something was off. She was off. There, but just out of reach. Guarded. He sat down at the kitchen table, staring at her as she scrolled on her phone. “(Y/n),” he called out, voice more gentle than the night before. She looked up. “Why are you so quiet today?” 

She hesitated, looking away before answering. Eventually she shrugged. “I just- I didn’t want to be a bother.” The words hit him like a punch and his stomach dropped. He knew exactly what she meant and exactly where it came from. He set his glass down, stood, and crossed the room to get to her.  

“(Y/n).” He took her phone from her hands, set it aside, and crouched down so he was eye level with her. “Hey. Look at me. Last night- that was mean of me. Okay? I was tired and I wasn’t thinking but that’s not an excuse and I know that. But I need you to know, I love your stories. Every single one. The ones that take three minutes or the ones that take three hours.”  

Her eyes flickered with doubt, finally looking at him, and she caught her lip in between her teeth. “You sounded like them. Like my parents.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “Like I was too much.”  

Max’s chest ached. He shook his head firmly. “No. You’re never too much. You’re... you’re the best part of my day. Even when I’m grumpy. Especially then.” He reached up now, cupping her cheek. “Don’t stop talking to me, (Y/n). Please.” His voice changed, going from soft to pleading. For a moment, she looked at him, unsure. But then the tension in her shoulders softened, and she let out the smallest laugh. “You really were being grumpy.”  

He grinned sheepishly, relief washing over him. “I know. It won’t happen again. Or if it does, you have full permission to throw something at me.”  

(Y/n)’s smile finally reached her eyes, and Max felt something settle in his chest. As he wrapped his arms around her, she let out a breath that sounded suspiciously like surrender.  

“Three minutes or three hours, huh? Pick one and prove it.” He laughed, the sound easy and ridiculous, and kissed the tip of her nose.  

“Three hours. Starting with when the barista accidentally thought you had a twin and made two lattes.”  

Outside, the world carried on with its noise and pressure and stress. But in here? In the little corner they had made together? They were comfortable and unhurried as (Y/n) resumed her story and this time, he listened like it was the only thing he needed to do.  

[majesticallyglimmeringprophecy]

Blurring The Lines

(Y/n) x Lando Norris

2.1k+ words

Reporter!Reader, forbidden romance, slow burn, protective Lando

Lando Norris had always been a difficult interview. Starting F1 at just 19 years old, he avoided cameras like the plague and when he was forced to talk to someone, he practically made it his mission to be as frustrating as possible. Looking off in the distance, giving ridiculous answers, not paying attention... you name it and he’s probably terrorized some reporter with it.  

Now, he had grown up. A little. His answers were a tad bit more sensible and he actually completed the press circuit more often than not. Still, this did not mean he looked forward to media duties. That is, until (Y/n) showed up for F1TV about two seasons ago.  

Sharp, charming and armed with a mic in hand and a witty comeback ready, she was the one reporter he couldn’t throw off her rhythm. And boy did he try. He would tease her, change the topic and stare at her intently the entire time. When that didn’t work, the next week he didn't make eye contact once. Not that it mattered- she had her questions down (they were good ones, too) and was not going to forget them.  

Once Lando finally admitted he had met his match, their interviews shifted. They bickered but sometimes- most times- it felt more like flirting. Little jabs back and forth, lingering glances, genuine smiles that were typically rare coming from both. The chemistry wasn’t subtle. Not to the fans. Not to the crew. And certainly not to McLaren.  

The email went to her producers first. It got immediately forwarded to her. The language was... intense. It read like a cease and desist if she didn’t know any better. Corporate language about “brand management” and “reputation” and “the best for both parties.” Somehow a handful of fans on X tweeting about his shift from disengaged in press to smiley when talking to her and an edit on TikTok that blew up overnight was enough to make McLaren want to pull the plug.  

In the newsroom, she begged the producers to negotiate. She didn’t want to lose the spot, to stop seeing Lando. As much as he pestered her, she looked forward to seeing him the most. And perhaps, just maybe, sometimes her heart switched sides and skipped a beat when he looked at her in that way he does for a beat too long.  

The producers were on her side- not only was the entire situation convoluted, but the interviews with the two of them boosted views like nothing else they had. The people loved it. So, they negotiated. It took a while though, they were at the next race and she still didn’t have a spot with him. In fact, she had been scheduled on the opposite side of the paddock all weekend to make it “less messy” while they tried to come to an agreement.  

Their only interaction came when she was walking to the media center one day. Her focus was on her phone until he spotted her.  

“(Y/n)?” he called out, jogging over. “Where have you been all weekend? I- I thought you were off maybe?” The poor boy looked genuinely confused and, if (Y/n) was to lean into the part of her who longed for something she couldn’t have, she would say upset or hurt.  

“I- uh, I wasn’t assigned to you this weekend...” she replied hesitantly as his nose crinkled.  

“Weren’t assigned to me? Why not? Isn’t that like, our thing-” he gets cut off by someone calling her name. She glances over and sighs.  

“I really should go,” she says reluctantly. She turns and walks away, not noticing Lando’s hands twitching by his side like he wants to reach out to her, to ask her more questions. He watches her walk away, only turning when he can’t see her anymore.  

There’s a week off before the next race, meaning he hasn’t seen her- not really- in almost three weeks. However, this also means F1TV had time to work out an agreement with McLaren. She was going to be allowed to interview him... provided she wore an insane and sparkly engagement ring. The banter will seem like harmless banter! was the argument going around. She was completely in love (with someone no one had ever seen or heard of, and who... didn’t exist...) so she and Lando are simply work acquaintances and there is no need for anyone to speculate otherwise.  

She fought back against this, of course. Said it completely demeans and undermines her value as a professional in the workforce and she didn’t go to university for five and a half years to get a degree and master's for her to be viewed as some silly girl in love with a driver. F1TV knew this, and to an extent, McLaren did too. It didn’t change anything. She was told this was quite literally her only option; the other one being never interviewing him again. So, on a random Thursday, she walked into the paddock with her head held high and a sparkly band on her finger. 

Her first spot with Lando was later in the afternoon, and she walked up to him with a mic in hand and warm greeting like always. He was tired and his polo was unbuttoned one more than she was sure McLaren would appreciate but brightened when he saw her. Not that it lasted long. His eyes dragged over her like they always did, but this time he stopped at the ring on her finger. 

Stomach dropping like his car locked up on turn one in pouring rain, his expression darkened. “What is that?” (Y/n) sighed.  

“Yeah.”  

“(Y/n), what? Are- are you engaged?” His mind was already spiraling. This is why she avoided him at the last race weekend. He was so stupid. This whole time he’d be messing with her, teasing her, forgetting they were on live television and staring at her for too long to be considered socially acceptable. Oh my gosh- on live television. What an idiot. The whole world probably knew she was engaged and yet here he was flirting with another man’s girl. The very thought twisted his stomach. (Y/n)- smart, pretty, funny (Y/n)- had been swept off her feet by some man (that he was sure had nothing on him) before he even got the guts to say something to her. Meanwhile, she instinctively hid her hand.  

“Not... not exactly.” His head snapped up to look at her.  

“Not exactly? Then what is that? Some kind of promise ring? A sick joke?” She grimaced.  

“Yeah, I’d call it a sick joke.” She did a quick glance around and saw cameras, PR, crew-and most importantly- a McLaren press manager- not too far away. “Look- I- I'll explain it. Just, not right here. In a little bit.” 

“No,” he said firmly, steel in his voice. “Now.” (Y/n) shifted, looking genuinely uncomfortable, almost as if the words hurt her to say.  

“It’s... McLaren.” His head tilted.  

“What?”  

“They asked me to wear it.”  

“They what?" His tone, if it was bad before, was now completely icy. She looked around again and took a step closer, lowering her voice.  

“They claimed there were too many rumors. About us. Some higher up decided it was ‘blurring the lines’- unprofessional. They wanted to completely cut me, never let me talk to you again. My producers basically had to beg and this is what your team came up with.”  

“You’re kidding.”  

“No.” 

“So, your option was to pretend to be engaged to someone or basically never interview me again?” She nodded. “Never talk to me again?”  

“My assignments were all across the paddock with the change.” His face changed like he suddenly realized something.  

“That’s why I didn’t see you at all last race.” She nodded.  

“Oh (Y/n)...” he murmured, finally breaking a little and pulling her into him. She stiffened for a second, still acutely aware of who was around them, before relaxing into his hug. Ironically, (Y/n) thought, this was the first time they had ever crossed the line of physical touch. This meant in McLaren’s efforts to separate them, they basically pushed them together.  

After another moment, he pulled back and stormed off before they could start the interview. She called after him, but all she got was a “I have some things to take care of!” as he kept walking away. The McLaren rep was panicking, running after him, telling him to focus on the big picture and keeping things clean. He ignored her all the way into Zak Brown’s office where he stormed in without knocking.  

“Explain to me why the team is threatening her over me, the actual employee?” he snapped. Zak looked startled. 

“What are you talking about?”  

“(Y/n),” Lando growled. “The ring. Just so she could interview me?” Zak’s expression hardened.  

“Things were getting out of hand. The media had a narriative-” 

“I don’t care about the narrative!” he exploded. “She is not a part of the team; she does not answer to you. And if anyone was being unprofessional, it was me for letting it look that way.”  

“She agreed to it,” was his simple response.  

“She did it to keep her job!” he barked. “To keep the one segment she really loves! Not because she wanted to!”  

Zak folded his arms. “What would you prefer, Lando? For us to let rumors spiral? She’s a pretty girl; she got a pretty ring. All she has to do is wear it.”  

“I would prefer for you to take her seriously! To see her as an adult who is one of the best at her job! To understand that she did not go to school to get her dream job just to be treated like a child as soon as she gets here!”  

The silence that follows is palpable.  

“As long as there’s a ring on her finger, I won’t speak to anyone." Lando turns and storms out of his office, still fuming. Angry at Zak for being so small minded, angry at the team for seeing her as anything less than someone who doesn’t treat him like a PR stunt. And if he was being honest, angry at himself for never telling her how he felt until it was almost too late.  

He found her a couple hours later, sitting in the grass off the side of turn one. Okay fine, he didn’t find her. He asked about half the paddock until someone was able to point him in the right direction. She didn’t glance up as he approached, already knowing who it was. The ring was gone now.  

“You confronted your team.” It wasn’t accusatory or questioning, just a statement.  

“Dang right I did,” he replied, sinking down next to her. “I would’ve done it sooner had I known.”  

“I didn’t want you to get caught in it.” was her simple response. He looked out over the track as the sun was setting and cast a glow that made it easy to remember why they were here in the first place.  

“Too late.” He paused, then continued. "You should've told me."

“I don’t know. I didn’t know how you’d respond. If you’d pull away, get weird. Maybe even agree with them.”  

He looked at her as though she personally offended him. “You think I’d do that?”  

“No. But I didn’t want to risk it.” He sighed, leaning back on his palms now.  

“I hate it. All of it.”  

“Yeah, I do too.” It was quiet for another moment. “Except for the email I got an hour ago with the line, and I quote, ‘I guess he decided to threaten all of media ever in order to get Zak to change his mind. Maybe there really was something for the team to be worried about. Go ahead and throw the ring away. Or pawn it. We don’t care.’” 

Lando let out a short bark of laughter. “Yeah, I guess there was something to be concerned about, huh?” She met his eyes and really looked at him for the first time in weeks. There was no hesitation now. Just something quiet and certain.  

“Perhaps.”  

She scooted closer and laid her head on his shoulder, and they sat like that- still and steady- until the sun gave its grand finale, dipping below the horizon like it knew they deserved at least one peaceful moment in this chaos. It was rare, that kind of stillness in the paddock. Rarer still between two people who had spent so long dancing around what was always there.  

Eventually, the air grew colder, and the bugs got loud enough to break the spell. Lando stood and offered her a hand.  

“Need a lift back to the hotel? Or maybe... dinner?”  

She took his hand, smiling as he pulled her to her feet.  

“Only if Zak doesn’t see. Though I gotta say... ‘McLaren CEO suffers fatal heart attack over unauthorized media dinner date’ is a pretty iconic headline.”  

Lando laughs and doesn’t let go of her hand as they start walking to his car.  

“Let’s make it worth the scandal, then.”  

[majesticallyglimmeringprophecy]

Young Blood, Big Leagues

(Y/n) x Kimi Antonelli  

1.3k+ words

Manager!reader, overworking, mutual understanding 

The tension in the conference room was so thick it could be cut with a knife. Mercedes had just announced they were taking 18-year-old Kimi Antonelli to be the replacement of the seven-time world champion who was departing the team. 18-year-old Kimi Antonelli who just crashed George’s car in practice the day before. 18-year-old Kimi Antonelli whose talent was undeniable, but so was his baby face.  

“What do we do now?” and “What’s next?” were the murmurs across the team. . Toto sighed and stood up, crossing his arms.  

“We get him a dang good manager.”  

Enter (Y/n) (L/n). A sophomore in university, she was just 19 herself. When she got the phone call from someone claiming to be from Mercedes Petronas Formula 1 team, she laughed. (Yeah, it wasn’t a great start). It took some convincing, but they were able to communicate to the young sports management major and public relations minor that her age is what set her apart, and they really thought it would help her connect with their driver. So, instead of going back to school for spring semester, she boarded a plane to the United Kingdom with her life packed in a couple suitcases.  

The first time she met Kimi was when she stepped into a sleek glass office fancy enough to make the richest millionaires weep. Armed with a fancy laptop and a clipboard, her gaze landed on Kimi. Curly hair sticking out of a cap and a team polo, he was the very picture of Italian youth and looked on the border of out of place and belonging there.  

“Kimi, this is your manager, (Y/n),” Toto said in a tone that left no room for discussion. They made eye contact and there was a moment of mutual appraisal.  

“Alright Kimi,” (Y/n) started. “We’re gonna make this season yours. But first, you’ll have to trust me.”  

In response, he raised an eyebrow and smirked at her. “Trust you, huh? I don’t even know you.”  

She smiled back at him- calm, collected. “I’ll earn it.” And she did.  

(Y/n) wasn’t just a manager- Kimi liked to say she did more strategizing than the race engineers did. She was the very essence of a buffer between Kimi and the chaos of sponsors, media, and endless travel. Anything that made Formula 1 a circus, she handled before it got to him. Schedules were tight, his focus sharp, and his interviews clean.  

The results showed. He placed in points more often than he didn’t, became the youngest driver to get a pole position and stood on the podium at just 18. He had space to operate and time to breathe. It was impressive, a masterclass in how to be a rookie and build up confidence. Anyone who thought Mercedes was crazy for signing him now took back their words.  

While Kimi respected everything she did in the craziness for him, he looked forward to the quiet moments more. For example, take the night before his first race. She had stayed late to make sure everything was perfect for the big day. He was relishing the silence and stillness for the first time after fielding questions about the car and strategy all day. She turned to him, paused, and genuinely asked if he was nervous. When he started rambling on and on, she didn’t turn back to her work but sat and listened.  

After that night, he began to notice all the small things she did for him. How she would adjust his gear that was waiting in his driver's room, remind him to eat, or place a steaming coffee in front of him before early morning meetings. She was efficient, professional and untouchable. The rock he needed to anchor him.  

One week, she started acting differently. Not in a bad way, just... off. Her usually bright eyes dulled, her posture less steady. Kimi wasn’t one to notice these things, he just found himself looking at (Y/n) so often for assurance that he saw the typically imperceptible shift.  

“Are you alright?” he asked quietly one day when he noticed she was on her third cup of coffee.  

“I’m fine. Just... busy.” was her lofty reply. Kimi took a good look at her before nodding, feeling a strange pang in his chest. He hadn’t realized how much he relied on her until he was wondering what he would do if something should happen to her.  

One day, she was gone completely. He could’ve sworn he’d seen her that morning, but she wasn’t at the meeting or there before he got in the car for practice. When her presence was still gone at the debrief later, he had enough and started asking around. After lots of fruitless questioning, he noticed an engineer avoiding his gaze.  

“Alessio... you wouldn’t happen to know where (Y/n) is... would you?” The man sighed before responding.  

“She’s in the small conference room, taking her midterms. She didn’t want to be disrupted; said it could affect her grade. But... she really should be done by now. I think she only had three today.”  

Kimi’s mind was spinning. Midterms? Three? She was a student? He had no idea. But... he supposed that would make sense. She was always on her computer, even when the schedule was done and the emails were answered. The few times she’d let him grab her bag it was unusually heavy, almost like it had textbooks in it. He made his way to the conference room and peaked in to see her scrolling on her phone before walking in.  

“(Y/n)...” he said softly, causing her to look up. The sight made his heart twist in an unnatural way. Her team polo was slightly crumpled, circles under her eyes, hair out of place like she’d run her hands through it.  

“Kimi. What’s the matter? Did something happen?” 

“No... I was just wondering where my manager was. You’re... you have midterms?” She sighed and deflated just a little bit.  

“Yes.”  

“Why didn’t you tell me, I- I had no idea.”  

“Why would you need to know? My job is to take care of you; this doesn’t change that.” Her tone was gentle, but firm. Like she genuinely believed that.  

“(Y/n) I would’ve helped you. Brought you an energy drink, I don’t know. Why would you hide the fact you’re in college? It’s like, really impressive. I just barely graduated high school while driving, and you’re getting a whole degree.” 

That coaxed a small smile from her. “I don’t want it to get in the way of my job. Mercedes took a big risk on me, being 19 and all. Heck, I only had two semesters of college done when they hired me. And now they’re not only paying for my schooling but they’re also paying me. A lot. I didn’t want to let anyone down.”  

“Wait- you’re- you’re 19?” She frowns slightly now.  

“Yeah? I’m a Sophomore. They didn’t tell you? The whole reason they hired me is cause I’m like, your age. They thought I could relate to you and your, may I quote, ‘Young generation tendencies.’” 

“No, I had no idea. This whole time I’ve been relying on you, asking you all these questions, and we’re in the same boat.” 

She shrugs, her cheeks flushing slightly. “I guess I’m just doing a really good job, huh?”  

“Yeah. You’re impressive, that’s for sure. And you’re also gonna take a nap now. C’mon.” He mumbled the last part before packing her laptop into her bag and taking her by the hand to drive her back to the hotel.  

When they arrived, Kimi stood in the hall to make sure she actually got into her hotel room. Even after the door closed and she thanked him again with a soft voice and softer smile, he watched the place she had just been before shaking his head and walking away. All this time he had been relying on her to be his anchor, when in reality they were just two teens trying to survive in the crazy world that is Formula 1.  

Oh well. He knew now. And he wasn’t going to let her do it alone anymore.  

[majesticallyglimmeringprophecy]

I Notice You

(y/n) x Max Verstappen

1.5k+ words

Manager!Reader, slow burn, protective Max

(Y/n) was perfection in human form. Always three steps ahead, prepared, unshakeable. Nothing could stop her during a race weekend and that is exactly what four time world champion Max Verstappen needed. Someone who could keep up with him, who kept her head down and worked. That's why they worked.

It was nearing the end of the season and the two of them had been working together for about eight months now. There was a quiet routine in the way they moved about the weekend. A water bottle on the table, a protein bar in his hand. Silent moments where she looked out for him, in the quiet way only she could manage.

So when she trailed a few feet behind him in the paddock, it wasn't unusual. She was there, within reach. It wasn't unusual when the media called his name. When they pushed against the barriers and pushed the limits of what was acceptable behavior.

What was unusual, is when security slipped. When the media were able to get just a step closer and in turn stepped on (Y/n)'s foot. When she stumbled and yanked herself away, when no one noticed.

This didn't upset her. Not really. She winced but kept walking. Escorted Max to where he needed to be, got him checked in with the interviewer. She gave him some notes on what to say, then slipped away with practiced ease. The last thing she needed was Max noticing something was off- he had enough on his plate without his manager becoming a liability.

Once she made it to the med tent, she sank into a chair and finally let her shoulders drop as she tugged her shoe off. The nurse said her ankle was sprained- tender to the touch. It was nothing she couldn't handle. Ice, elevation and she'd be fine. But she should be easy on it- the nurse insisted. It wouldn't heal as quick if she was running around the paddock for the rest of the weekend.

(Y/n) smiled and agreed, checking out of the tent with a practiced charm and ease. Once she was out of sight, however, the speed walking to get back to Max continued. She showed up just as he was wrapping, prepared to guide him to the next event. Tight smile, on point. Nothing was amiss. Not really.

Later that night, Max was scrolling through his phone while lying restless in a hotel bed. He was about to give up, finding it more beneficial to stare blankly at the ceiling rather than continue to consume mindless content on TikTok. That is, until a video of him in the paddock appeared. Except, the focus didn't stay on him. It zoomed in on (Y/n), two steps behind him, just as a security officer slipped.

He watched it. Again. And again. How the media swelled and pushed, how someone landed on (Y/n)'s foot, how she had to yank herself away and stumble forward. How no one noticed or helped. How he didn't even glance back. The comments were filled with outrage- anger that the media was so pushy, that the security couldn't do their job. But some, some took on a different tone.

user2846: imagine your whole job and life is consumed by taking care of this guy and he doesn't even turn around to check if you're okay in a crowd swell... user5798: awh the photos of her in the wrap... poor girl. so scary user6928: Like- logically I know he is focused and whatever. But she is literally the only one walking with him, and considerably shorter than everyone in this crowd. Can someone just- keep an eye out for her? user4298: legit this would scare me so bad omg.

It made Max uncomfortable. Not because they were wrong.. but because they were right. And the way that he felt when he saw the video... the way his heart dropped. The adrenaline pulsing through his veins like he was there. The concern, the need to swipe to his messages and press send on something to (Y/n). Instead, the blinking of a hotel alarm clocking reading 1:22am was enough to convince him to leave it for tonight. The new reason he couldn't sleep though- now that was something he would have to confront another day.

Luckily for him, the next morning was technically another day. He arrived to the paddock extra early, when he knew she would be there to beat the crowd and get settled. He walked into the hospitality unit and saw her, leg propped up on a chair, icing her ankle while nursing a cup of coffee and looking over what he presumed was the schedule for the day.

She glanced up and noticed him, instinctively going to shift her leg off of the chair. "Oh- Max! What are you doing here- you're early."

His eyes darkened in response, going to her ankle. "Don't."

"What?" came her confused response.

"Don't- don't take the ice off of your ankle," he said with a tone laced with something she couldn't quite place.

"Oh- oh. No, I'm fine. It's nothing."

"No, it's not. It's not nothing. You nearly got trampled in a crowd and I didn't even notice-" This response was tighter. Like it pained him to say, like there was a barely controlled anger.

"You saw the TikTok, didn't you?" was her soft response.

"Yes, and I hated it! I hate that I didn't notice sooner- I mean- (Y/n). You are the best manager I've ever had, you keep my life on track." He pauses only to run his hand through his hair. "You know what I need before I do, I never have to worry. And, and all this time- I should've been worried about you!"

(Y/n)'s face flashed with something too quick to name. "I didn't want this to be a thing. I took care of it- I got it looked at. I'm fine."

"Maybe- but what if you weren't? What if you needed me? I should've noticed-"

"I'm used to taking care of myself, Max. I'm used to not being noticed. It isn't your job to do that, okay?"

"But- but that's the thing. I do notice. I noticed that you order a white mocha with blonde shots and whip cream every day, I noticed you ask for your salads to not have onions on them, I noticed you always wear sunglasses and hats because you burn easy. I notice you! And yet I still failed to look for you-" The increased agitation in his voice left the following silence heavy, the unspoken things now being voiced hung between them.

Finally, he moved closer. Kneeled next to her chair to be on her level, voice quieter now. "I rely on you more than I let on. You know that, right?"

"I know." There's a pause. "But you forget sometimes."

"I don't mean to."

"I know that too."

He looks down at her ankle, then back to her face. His fingers twitch at his side like he wants to reach for her but he isn't sure if he's allowed to.

(Y/n) exhaled. "It really is just a sprain, Max."

"I know." he murmurs. "But it shouldn't have taken a TikTok to tell me." Something shifted in his expression, a tight jawline, a clip in his pride perhaps. "I'm sorry," he continued.

"It's okay, Max."

He glances away, then stands up and looks back at her. "I made some calls on the way here. Security is going to be increased for the rest of the weekend. I'm also talking to Laurent about getting some additional personnel that travels with us. You'll have two interns until you're healed. One you can have escort me around, and the other can fetch things and run errands for you. I don't want you injuring yourself more. Okay?"

(Y/n)'s face softens. "Max- that wasn't necessary."

"Yeah. It was. I'm gonna be back to have lunch with you, and I want the full report on how ridiculous these interns are, okay?"

She smiles softly this time. "Yeah, okay. I can do that." A smile of his own mirrors her, the first of the morning and boyish in nature. Feeling satisfied that he had finally done something right, he turned and slipped away into the crowd of mechanics and engineers arriving to start the day.

Later, an intern came up to Max and handed him an envelope labeled "High Importance: Mr. Verstappen". In a squeaky voice he explained that, "Ms. (L/n) said to give this to you- that you would know what to do with it," before scurrying away. Max opened it up and pulled out a single sheet of paper.

Max-

The caterers are making those wraps you like for lunch.

I hope you're glad to know this urgent message,

(Y/n)

P.S. I hope the intern was adequately scared and concerned whilst delivering this letter. I might've told him it was the most important thing he would do all year.

Max smirked, read it again, and tucked the note into his jacket pocket. Yeah. He was definitely glad to know.