🛏️ʀᴏᴏᴍ 713 – ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 15: ᴄʀᴏꜱꜱɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰɪɴɪꜱʜ ʟɪɴᴇ🛏️
ꜰ1 x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ʟᴀɴᴅᴏ ɴᴏʀʀɪꜱ ᴀᴜ | ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ + ʜᴇᴀʟɪɴɢ
⚠️ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ:
ʜᴏꜱᴘɪᴛᴀʟ/ɪʟʟɴᴇꜱꜱ (ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ᴛʀᴀɴꜱᴘʟᴀɴᴛ ʀᴇᴄᴏᴠᴇʀʏ)
ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇɴꜱɪᴛʏ
ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ɴᴇᴀʀ-ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ ᴇxᴘᴇʀɪᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ
ꜱᴛʀᴏɴɢ ꜰᴇᴇʟɪɴɢꜱ, ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴛɪᴄ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ
Months had passed like whispered prayers, each one filled with the fragile hope of recovery, of another dawn with lungs that could breathe fully, with a heart that no longer faltered.
(Y/n) had healed slowly, and gently. Like a flower after a storm, unsure at first whether the sun would stay, she bloomed with cautious grace. The hospital visits waned into check-ups. Her pallor lifted. Her strength returned, tentative but determined. She was finally ready to walk into the world again.
And what a world to return to.
The Spanish Grand Prix was a spectacle. The summer sun poured over the circuit like molten gold, crowds rippling with orange flags, banners flapping with Lando’s number, a sea of people chanting his name. The paddock buzzed with anticipation, nerves, and victory fever. But today, something else made his heart beat faster.
She was here.
(Y/n) stood near the McLaren hospitality suite, a soft smile playing on her lips, dressed in a papaya-orange sundress that brushed her knees and fluttered in the breeze. Sunglasses perched atop her head, and her hair was loose, framing a face that now carried the glow of life reclaimed.
Lando watched her from across the paddock, a warmth blooming in his chest that had nothing to do with the heat. He jogged over, grinning, slowing only when he reached her.
“You made it,” he breathed.
“You said it was time,” she said, smiling up at him. “And I promised I’d come see you win.”
He took her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “You always keep your promises.”
That was when she met his parents.
Cisca Norris approached first, elegant and glowing with quiet pride. Her eyes flicked from her son to the woman at his side, and something softened in them. “You must be (Y/n),” she said warmly, pulling her in for a gentle hug. “We’ve heard so much about you. It’s good to finally meet the girl who changed our son.”
(Y/n) flushed, smiling shyly. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mrs. Norris.”
“Cisca, please.”
Next came his father, Adam, tall and stern but with kind eyes. “He’s been different lately,” he said, shaking her hand firmly. “Happier. Calmer. You brought him back.”
(Y/n) blinked back tears. “He brought me back first.”
Cameras clicked. Reporters lingered from a distance. But Lando didn’t care.
Throughout the paddock, she met the WAGs—the wives and girlfriends who formed a quiet sisterhood behind the scenes. Lily He, Lily Zneimer, Carmen Montero, and even Alex, Charles Leclerc’s . They welcomed her with knowing smiles, offering seats beside them, casual laughter, whispered conversations. She felt no judgment, only camaraderie.
For once, (Y/n) didn’t feel like an outsider looking in.
She belonged.
The race was electric.
From the moment the lights went out, Lando was in control. Every turn, every corner, every overtake, it was art in motion. Oscar kept pace behind him, the two McLarens gliding like poetry across the tarmac.
Her fingers gripped the seat tighter with every lap. Her heart pounded—not with fear, but with awe.
By the time the checkered flag waved, Lando had crossed the finish line first.
The circuit erupted. Fireworks burst into the sky, confetti showering the podium.
He had done it.
World Driver Champion.
When he sprayed the champagne, the first face he looked for in the crowd was hers. And there she was, standing beside his mother, laughing and crying all at once.
Later, when the interviews died down and the cameras turned off, Lando found her again. He swept her into his arms and spun her around, laughter shaking in his throat.
“You did it,” she whispered.
“No,” he said softly, pressing his forehead to hers. “We did it.”
They kissed again, this time in front of the entire paddock. And no one dared interrupt.
Because some stories weren’t just about victory on the track.
Some were about the races we run in our hearts.
And against every odd, they had both crossed the finish line together.
𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵, 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳. 𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵, 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘳.
📝 Note from the Author: Hello, my dearest Alarwynnites 😉😭
I know, I know… I’ve been that author who disappeared again HAHAHAHA. But fear not! I’ve finally crawled back into your feeds because I somehow found time, I know, shocking, right? 😅 I’m thinking of making a habit of coming back during holidays, so keep your wits about you.
University life is wild, y’all. I’m technically graduating next year (not this year, don’t ask why time is laughing at me), but still… graduating vibes are strong. I’m focusing hard on my studies so I don’t fail a subject, wish me luck! HAHAHAHA. Honestly, I’m enjoying this chaotic, caffeine-fueled university rollercoaster more than I probably should.
Now, onto the story! This, my dear readers, is the last chapter of Room 713. I hope you loved it! I was this close to giving it a sad ending, but nahhh… I’m saving all that angst for next month, or maybe next year. I’m officially entering my “sad girl era,” joke HAHAHAHA.
From the bottom of my heart, thank you to everyone who kept the hope alive that I’d return, whether you’ve been with me since the beginning or you’re new and just stumbled upon this chaos of love, angst, and F1 madness. You all are absolute gems, and I’m so grateful you’re still reading my little universe.
Stay wild, stay soft, and remember: Lando and (Y/n) survived, and so will we… most days.
With love, me 🧡
