summary: yn and lando do the popular tiktok trend where they confess secrets to each other, judgement free.
MASTERLIST
It took Lando a little bit of convincing to do the TikTok trend, but with a little bit of begging you both got to making your lists.
“We listen and we don’t judge,” you and Lando say in unison.
You went first.
“You know how me and Rebecca go to dinner every couple weeks? Well, sometimes we go karting and don’t invite you guys cause you’ll take it too seriously.”
Lando gasps, looking genuinely hurt for two seconds.
“Baby, what? You never come with us,” he says with wide eyes.
“We listen and we don’t judge,” you start and he joins in.
He goes next.
“Sometimes when you make me bathe Copper (your adorable Cocker Spaniel), I use your conditioner,” he says with a guilty smile.
“Lando! That shits expensive,” you say with a hand covering your mouth.
“We listen and we don’t judge.”
You go again.
“Remember when you thought Copper ate your shoe that one time? I hid it under the bed because you wouldn’t let me sleep in.”
He lets out a laugh at that one.
“We listen and we don’t judge.”
“Sometimes, I tell you your outfit is cute so you won’t change again when we’re running late.”
“Wait, that’s so mean,” you say half joking, half not.
“We listen and we don’t judge.”
“When we first met, I thought your name was Landon until I followed you on Instagram.”
“Wait, we knew each other for a long time before you followed me,” he says.
“I know,” you say, trying to hold your laugh in.
“We listen and we don’t judge.”
“Sometimes, when I see Copper wants to go out I’ll pretend I’m on the phone so you’ll take him.”
“Wait, I do the same thing,” you say laughing, throwing your head back.
“We listen and we don’t judge.”
"Sometimes, when I see you after a bad race, I'll bring up something stupid like a funny TikTok just to distract you because I don't know how to make you feel better."
Lando softens, his smile turning a little shy.
"It works, though. You're good at making me forget."
"We listen and we don't judge."
“Whenever I’m flying somewhere and you’re not coming with me, I take one of your hoodies and spray it with like half the bottle of your perfume.”
“Wait, that’s kinda cute,” you say, turning to him and giving him a shy smile.
"We listen and we don't judge,” you both say one last time as you stop the video.
bonus ones you didn’t want on the internet:
"Whenever you're wearing those leggings I like, I find excuses to 'walk behind you' because I'm honestly just admiring the view."
You gasp, swatting at him. "Lando!"
He grins, unapologetic. "What? I'm only human."
"We listen and we don't judge."
“Remember when you thought the bed sheets had a weird tear in them? That was because you grabbed them too hard one night, but I didn’t have the heart to tell you.”
Lando bursts out laughing. “I thought it was Copper!”
— SUMMARY: she was the loss of his life, the one that got away, and he was the love of her life that she left behind
FORMULA 1 MASTERLIST
Carlos Sainz had always been a man with a plan. As a Formula 1 driver, he knew the importance of focus and dedication. However, upon meeting Y/N, an artist with a similar creative spirit, he couldn't help but fall deeply in love with her. They had been together for five years, their love growing stronger with each passing day. But as they reached a crossroads in their relationship, it became clear that they wanted different things in life. Carlos was determined to climb higher in his career, while Y/N was eager to take the next step and start a family, all while pursuing her passion for art. However, Carlos was not on board and before things reached a breaking point, Y/N made the difficult decision to end their relationship. She knew it was best to do it sooner rather than later, before things became too complicated, even though it would leave Carlos heartbroken.
It had been two years since they had last seen each other, and he knew he had let her down. He had promised to show up to her gallery, but he had been so caught up in his career as an F1 driver that he had lost sight of what was truly important.
As Carlos stood in the dim light of the party, the distant sounds of laughter mingling with the throbbing pulse of music. It was a night meant to celebrate success, surrounded by friends and colleagues. But for him, it felt like a pyre—one lit by the remnants of dreams that had turned into ashes. A chill washed over him as he caught a glimpse of her—a fleeting figure, something akin to a ghost in the corner of the room.
Y/N
She wore a simple black dress that clung to her form, the deep neckline emphasizing the way her collarbone arched gracefully, but her radiant smile was nowhere in sight. As they locked eyes for the briefest moment, the world around them faded into silence, eclipsed by a wave of memory—a kaleidoscope of laughter, paint splatters, and the way her eyes sparkled when she talked about her art. But the weight of unspoken words hung heavy between them, more suffocating than the stench of burnt bridges.
“Carlos,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, but it resonated with unrestrained hurt. “It’s been a while.” She walked up to him.
“Yeah,” he replied, his throat suddenly feeling tight.
“Looks like you’re still making headlines,” she said, her tone tinged with bitterness cloaked in polite laughter, the smile on her lips a fragile mask. “Congratulations on the last race.”
“Thanks,” he said, his heart racing in the wrong direction, the accolades feeling hollow and meaningless without her by his side. But he pushed the thought aside—every single time he tried to embrace what they had lost, his racing heart urged him to move forward, to forget.
“What brings you here?” Her heart skipped a beat. It had been two years since they'd last spoken, two years of chasing their own dreams on separate paths. Two years of growth, of pain, of moments that felt like they could have been shared but weren't.
"I saw your exhibit announcement. That's why I'm here."
“In that case, thanks for stopping by. I know how busy you are,” she said, bitterness breeding anger in the depths of her eyes. “It’s understandable… you have a career to build.”
“Don’t do this, Y/N,” Carlos replied, feeling his defenses crumble, the memories of heated arguments and bitter words crawling back. The walls they built, the dreams they painted together all crumbled into nothingness.
“Don’t do what?” she retorted, the pain in her voice cutting like glass. “You think I wanted this?”
He hated the way her voice cracked, hated the way his heart ached because he knew she was right. But somewhere in his mind, the defenses, the walls—everything he built to shield himself—screamed at him to push her away. “You made your choice, Y/N. You knew how important my career is.”
“And you thought I didn’t want something more?” she shot back, the tears shimmering in her eyes only serving to ignite the fire in his chest. “I thought you knew, Carlos. I thought you knew! From that trip in Spain when your mom mentioned marriage, a family, I thought you felt it too. But you clearly had other plans! This isn’t what I wanted, but I had to be selfish and think about what I wanted!”
He could feel the fleeting warmth of their memories taunting him, like shadows whispering sweet nothings of what used to be. Confronted by her emotions, he recoiled, bringing forth the bitter words he wished he could swallow back down. “Well, maybe I wasn’t ready for a life of cradles and promises—a future full of things I didn’t want! Maybe I wanted to focus on my career!”
Silence fell between them, thick and suffocating. The air crackled with the remnants of their shattered dreams. The world continued to spin around them—friends dancing, drinks flowing, laughter echoing on the walls—but they were stuck in their own void, haunted by the ghosts of what could have been.
“Maybe I’m not the one wasting my life here,” Y/N said softly, her eyes breaking away from him with a tremor of defeat. “Maybe that’s you, Carlos.”
Carlos took a step closer. She could see the lines of worry etched around his eyes, the tension in his shoulders. “Look, about everything—”
“Don’t,” she interrupted, a quiver in her voice. “I can’t do this right now.”
“Please,” he begged, searching her face for something—anything—that would bridge the gap they’d created. “I came here to—”
“To what?” she snapped, finally meeting his gaze. “To congratulate me? To tell me how proud you are now that you’re scaling the heights of your dream.”
He hesitated, the warmth in his eyes fading. “I thought we were happy… together.”
“Happy? Is that what you call it?” she said, her voice rising as the pent-up frustration boiled over. “You were always focused on your career, Carlos. Always racing, always moving forward. And I was stuck in the pit stop, waiting for you to make a decision—to choose a path.”
He replied defensively, his tone dropping. “I thought you understood!”
“Understand? I thought you understood me, too! I wanted a future—a family, and you… you were so ready to just drive away!” Her heart thudded painfully in her chest, feeling like an echo against the unforgiving reality of their choices. “Coward,” she whispered. “You claimed you were a lion, but you ran away at the first sign of commitment.”
He recoiled, the fury in his eyes clashing with guilt. “That’s not fair! I never meant to hurt you.”
“That’s the problem, isn’t it?” Her voice trembled under the weight of sorrow. “Everyone else got to keep their dreams, except for me. I was the one who had to be selfish and think about what I wanted… and leave.“
As they stood in the gallery surrounded by Y/N’s beautiful artwork, Carlos realized just how much he had lost. He had let the love of his life slip through his fingers, all in the pursuit of a career that now felt hollow and meaningless. He knew that he would never be able to replace what he had with Y/N, and he vowed to never make the same mistake again.
The tension between them was palpable, a silent symphony of regret and longing. She had moved on, found success in her art, and even love in the arms of another. Yet, here he was, the man she once thought she'd marry, the one who had promised to stand by her side through it all.
The party buzzed around them, a cacophony of laughter and clinking glasses. She could feel the eyes of the other guests, curious about the handsome F1 driver and the beautiful artist reunited in this intimate space.
As Y/N tucked her hair behind her ears, Carlos couldn't help but notice the glimmer of a shiny ring on her finger. Suddenly, it hit him - could she be engaged?
"You're engaged," he said, the words leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. He nodded, a sad smile playing on his lips. "And you're...happy?"
His eyes searched hers, looking for the lie in her words. "I am," she said, with a strength she didn't quite feel. "But I can't say I don't regret the what-ifs."
“We almost had it all,” He murmured.
Their eyes locked, the years melting away, leaving only the raw emotions of a love once shared. For a moment, it was just the two of them, standing in the ruins of their field of dreams, engulfed in the flames of their past.
With a sigh, she stepped back, breaking the spell. "But we didn't, did we?" she said, her voice trembling. "I left. And I had to rebuild."
He nodded, his expression a mask of sorrow. "I know," he said, his voice thick with regret. "I was a coward."
There was a moment of silence, a shared breath of what could have been. In the depths of his sorrow, Carlos reached out, sparking the briefest flicker of hope—a desire to rekindle something lost amidst the ashes. Their fingers brushed, sending electric chills that surged through her body, but just as quickly as it came, the connection faded under the weight of reality.
“Congratulations on everything, Y/N,” he said, this time with a bittersweet smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. “You deserve it.”
“Yeah,” she replied, swallowing the lump in her throat, her voice barely above a whisper. “You too, Carlos. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
With those words hanging in the air, she turned away from him. The vibrant colors of the gallery blurred as tears streamed down her cheeks. They’d almost had it all—a perfect race, and yet here they stood, separated by choices neither of them could take back.
The night was a blur of faces and congratulations, but their eyes kept finding each other, the unspoken words hanging heavy between them. The spark was still there, undeniable, like the smoldering embers of a fire that had never truly gone out.
Y/N stepped out into the cool night air, unaware that Carlos was standing on the rooftop. As they found themselves alone under the silent witness of the stars, memories of their tumultuous past flooded back. After a while, Carlos finally spoke up, his eyes searching hers. "I've made so many mistakes," he confessed.
Her heart ached at the confession, the weight of his words sinking deep. "What are you saying, Carlos?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I'm saying," he began, his eyes meeting hers, "I never forgot about you. Distancing myself from you was the biggest mistake I ever made. And the truth is, I can't stop thinking about you. You were the love of my life, and losing you was the biggest loss of my life. I love you, Y/N.”
The wind picked up, carrying with it the promise of a future filled with possibilities. For a brief moment, it felt like they were back in Spain, standing on the precipice of forever. But the world had moved on, and so had they.
"I'm engaged," she said softly, the reality a stark reminder of the life she'd built without him.
He nodded, understanding in his gaze. "And I'm...still racing," he said with a sad smile. "But I've never stopped loving you, Y/N."
Her eyes filled with tears, a silent admission of the love that still lingered in her heart. "I know," she said, her voice cracking. "But sometimes love isn't enough."
"Say it," Carlos gazed into her eyes, never breaking the intense connection. "Say the words and I'll drop everything for you - everything. We can travel anywhere in the world you desire and have all your wildest dreams come true. I don't want anything that isn't with you. Just you and me, together. All you have to do is say it."
“Carlos—“
"I am yours, all yours. I will always be yours. But I need you to tell me what you want."
“I’m sorry, but I can’t.” She responded.
“Okay" he nodded with a tinge of melancholy in his gaze. “Okay”
Y/N couldn't bear to see him looking at her with those sad, pleading eyes. She knew if she stayed any longer, she would crumble under the weight of his gaze. So she did what she always did - she walked away before she allowed herself to break down in front of him.
It was a legendary moment that quickly passed. In the end, it proved to be unnecessary, and they said their goodbyes, unable to take back everything that was said. They thought it would last forever, but it was just a fleeting moment. Now, they are still alive, but just killing time, as if they were in a cemetery, never fully moving on from what was once between them. Y/N walked away, her heart heavy with the weight of what could have been. And Carlos was left standing in the night, his eyes filled with tears as he watched her go. He knew that he had lost something truly precious, and he could never forgive himself for letting it slip away.
He had fought for his career, and in doing so, he had lost everything else that mattered. The cheers of victory rang hollow, drowning him in regret. She had walked away, her silhouette fading into the night as she went inside.
As she walked inside, Y/N couldn't help but think about him, the love of her life. She couldn't shake the memories of their almost-perfect relationship and the thought that maybe one day, they would cross paths again and have a chance to start over. But for now, she had to focus on moving forward and making the most of her own life.
The night was forever marred by the unending ache of what they had lost. In the end, it felt like a field of dreams that had been engulfed in fire, leaving behind only memories of what could have been. She was the loss of his life, a wound that would never fully heal. But he would hold onto those memories, cherishing them in his heart forever. And perhaps, in some distant future, he would find peace in the midst of the pain.
➝ jenson didn't want money, just someone who wanted his company. is that too much to ask for?
➝ word count: 4k
➝ warnings: mentions of death, alcohol, and a particular bad time for jenson
➝ author's note: well, the last two weeks have been horrible, i completely doubted my ability as a writer and my health decided to abandon me in every way. i still don't feel very good and i really think i should give up everything, but ally won't let me, so here we have another one-shot that i had shelved out of frustration with myself. enjoy!
Driving down that street was bittersweet.
The night was beautiful. The sky was spectacularly clear and the silver light of the moon illuminated the gentle waves of the Mediterranean. The pleasant breeze disguised the heat that had been on the French Riviera all day.
However, you weren't looking at the goosebumps in your arms or the stars twinkling in the sky. Your eyes were fixed on the large butter-colored house that stood discreetly among the shady trees just to his left.
As you stopped the MINI you had rented at Nice airport, you allowed yourself to roll down the window and contemplate those familiar walls.
It felt like an eternity since you had last been there, walking up the stone steps, the gray mixed with red. You closed your eyes, trying not to pay attention to your stomach, which churned at the memory. However, it was something you couldn't help.
After all, that had been your last sight of John Button.
You clearly remembered the day you had met him. Wearing a white shirt and with red cheeks from the heat in Melbourne, he approached you and your boss, Richard, with a wide smile. After some typically English jokes about the intense sun, he invited the two of you to join him at the table where he was sitting with his daughter-in-law, Jessica, and son, Jenson.
It was with that moment in mind that you noticed something strange in the house.
With the swaying of the tree branches that covered the facade, you could see that the front of the residence was illuminated, as if there was a light on. In addition to being sure that no one was in the house, you were almost certain that you hadn't left any lights on the last time you were there.
“Someone broke in”, you thought, rummaging through your bag for your house keys.
After typing a message to Jenson, stating that you had seen something strange at John's house and that you would check out what was going on, you made your way to the main gate, finding it ajar.
— My God — you murmured, as you followed the path in silence. With wide eyes, you were trying to make out the sharp sound that mixed with the rustling of leaves and the waves of the sea when a particular loud noise made you jump.
Taking your phone from your pocket, you rolled your eyes when you read the name on the caller ID. “Bad timing”, you thought, as you dragged your finger across the screen and brought the device to your ear.
— Now I can't, Jenson, I'm here at John's house…
However, instead of a humorous comment or an ironic question, you heard a loud sob.
— Y/N — Jenson murmured, taking a sniff.
— Are you crying?
— I'm here, Y/N.
— Here? Jenson, where are you?
— Here — he stammered, before crying again, this time louder.
So loud that you realized what he was talking about.
Walking a few more meters, you saw the staircase that led to the front door of the house, as well as a man sitting on the steps, accompanied by a half-empty bottle of whiskey and his face wet with tears, leaning against the wall next to him.
— Jenson! — you exclaimed, hanging up your phone and running towards him. Climbing the steps two at a time, you approached the driver practically out of breath, your heart almost coming out of your mouth — Jenson, are you okay? What happened? What are you doing here?
He looked at you with a blank stare.
— Y/N…
— Jenson, tell me, what are you doing here?
— I want my father — the driver replied softly, the words dragging on his tongue. Holding his face, you noticed more tears falling from his eyes — Where is my father?
— Jense — you murmured, before pulling him towards you for a hug. With his head buried in the crook of your neck, he cried loudly, his gasps making his entire body shake and your eyes filling with tears. You allowed them to fall from your eyes as you blinked a little harder, tightening your arms around him.
— He wasn't supposed to come alone — he stammered against his shoulder, before looking up and sniffling — He couldn't, he shouldn't…
— I know, Jense, I know — you replied, running your hand over his face to dry the tears.
— He died alone, Y/N — Jenson murmured — He died without anyone by his side. My father died alone, without anyone…
You pressed your lips together, feeling more tears streaming down your face. It was ironic and particularly sad, considering how loved John was by everyone around him. Dying like that, in the open and completely alone, was something you didn't wish on anyone.
— I don't want to be alone — he continued, rubbing his nose — I don't want to be alone, I don't, I don't…
— You won't be alone — you said, trying to calm him down, as the driver reached for the bottle of whiskey, taking a large gulp before you could protest or stop him.
— I will, Y/N — he replied, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand — I will, I know I will...
— No, you won't — you said, as Jenson brought the bottle to your mouth, only for you to abruptly remove it from his hand — And you're going to stop with that whiskey now.
He tried to retrieve the bottle, but you tipped it over the steps, spilling the rest of the contents onto the stone.
— No — the driver protested, as the amber liquid ran down the steps.
— Yes — you returned — You can't keep drinking, Jense.
— I can…
— No, you can't and you won't — you said, your tone somewhat harsh, almost like a mother scolding a naughty child — I'm not going to watch you drink yourself into an alcoholic coma with my arms crossed. Now get up.
He looked at you with an expression that mixed confusion and sadness.
— Y/N — he stammered.
— Come on, Jense — you said, giving your hand to help him get up.
The task of taking the driver into the house was not simple. Far beyond the darkness of the rooms, courtesy of the curtains that covered the large windows that faced the sea, Jenson seemed determined not to cooperate with your efforts to take him to the main suite to take a shower.
After some struggle to drag him up the marble stairs to the second floor and tripping over a painting that was leaning against the wall as he slurred about how much his father liked that place, you managed to make it to the spacious bathroom. of the room that had once been John's. Asking Jenson to lean on the white stone sink, you allowed yourself a few seconds to breathe before continuing on your mission to save the driver from the worst hangover of his life.
— You can take off your clothes — you said, seriously.
— For what? — he asked, frowning.
— So you can take a shower. You reek of sweat and cheap whiskey.
Your observation made him take a step forward, losing his balance and placing both hands on your shoulders.
— It’s not cheap whiskey, it’s a very good brand…
— Which you probably bought for five euros in some dodgy liquor store in Monaco, right? — you asked, as you took your hands to the white shirt he was wearing and started to undo the buttons, revealing his chest.
— But it was a good whiskey, you could have tried it — Jenson murmured — But you threw it all away...
— It was either throw it away or let you keep drinking it until dawn.
— That was my plan.
Your hands stopped at the last button of his shirt, your lips pursed as you lifted your face to look at the driver. The seconds of silence that stretched inside the bathroom made your heart sink. After swallowing hard, you asked him to take off his shirt, which he did without saying a word.
Next, you moved on to his belt, unbuckling it and undoing the button on his pants.
— What are you doing?
— Taking off your pants.
— For what? — Jenson asked in a naive tone.
— So you can get in the shower — you replied, bending down slightly to slide his jeans down his legs, leaving him in just his underwear — Come in.
— And the underwear?
You felt your face heat up.
— I definitely don't need to see your dick today, Jenson. Now go to the shower.
Balancing himself with his hand on your shoulder, he carefully entered the bathtub, sitting on the edge. Watching you turn on the shower, he hissed as he felt the cold water splash onto his legs. However, that didn't stop you from placing your hand on the driver's tattooed shoulder to encourage him to get wet.
— No, Y/N — he grumbled — It's too cold.
— The cold water will help you…
— I don't want help.
— Come on, please — you said, bringing your face closer to his — You'll feel better after the shower...
Turning his head to you, his gaze seemed empty.
— I'm not going to get better, Y/N — he said in a low voice — This is me now, this depressed and pathetic thing that no one wants around...
Something about those words made you adjust your posture, irritation rising up your neck in a hot wave.
— Get in the shower, Button — you said, harshly, pushing his shoulder.
Silently, he stood up and placed himself under the cold spray, letting out a loud grunt. After searching the cupboards and only finding some soap forgotten in the corner, you returned to the shower to clean Jenson's skin and hair. “It’s going to look terrible without conditioner”, you thought to yourself, as your fingers rubbed his scalp. After rinsing off the soap that was on his skin and hair, you turned off the shower and wrapped him in a towel.
— Can you dry yourself? — you asked, earning a positive nod from him — Okay, then I'll make the bed.
Leaving the driver to dry off, you went to the bedroom, testing the lamps that flanked the bed, which looked somewhat imperious with its canopy, and condemning yourself for having forgotten that there was no power in the house. The furniture was old style, however, contrary to what you would expect in a lived-in place, the cupboards, shelves and desk were empty. You knew that this was the result of a day's work by Jenson and his sisters with the intention of keeping their father's memories.
Removing the sheet, you felt relief fill your chest when you discovered that there were still pillows and a blanket on the bed. You had just thrown the dusty fabric in one of the corners of the room when Jenson appeared in the bathroom door, completely naked. Staggering, he dropped face down on the bed without any ceremony.
— Jense, I was finishing…
— No need — he murmured, his face against the pillow.
Pursing your lips, you dropped the blanket onto the mattress, making a conscious effort not to look at his butt.
— Okay, so — you stuttered, while the pilot fidgeted, turning his head towards you — I'm going to see if there's another blanket for me to take to the couch downstairs...
— Why?
— Because I'm not going to leave you alone here.
— So stay.
You gave a small smile.
— I'll stay, Jense, but downstairs.
— Stay here — he stammered, stretching a hand across the bed.
— Here?
A positive grunt was the only response you got, heavy breathing indicating he had fallen asleep. Facing his calm expression, you didn't have the courage to deny his request, especially at that moment. Settling down on the mattress, you felt Jenson shift next to you, grunting in reaction to your movement. Then, he placed an arm over your stomach, as if he was trying to hug you or just make sure you stayed there.
And you stayed.
The sun was rising over the horizon and entering the room through the window without any ceremony when you woke up. A little confused, you rubbed your eyes, focusing again on the ceiling, realizing that the checkered pattern was from the fabric covering the canopy and not an eccentric painting choice by John. The memory of the man made you look to the side, finding Jenson still lying down, sleeping soundly, a string of drool dripping from the corner of his mouth.
The scene made you give a restrained smile. The habit of drooling was something you had already used to upset Jenson, who claimed that it was a lie and that he had never drooled in his life. However, his denial didn't make you stop your jokes.
Rubbing your eyes, you stood up carefully, making your way to the stairs slowly, evaluating the way the sun entered the rooms and illuminated the spaces.
“No wonder John loved this place”, you thought to yourself, as you passed through the dining room towards the kitchen.
As you expected, there was nothing in the cupboards or refrigerator, something that seemed obvious considering the house had been empty for six months. However, at the same time as you could feel your stomach growl, you didn't feel comfortable with the idea of leaving Jenson there, especially after what he had said to you during the cold bath you had given him.
Jenson had mentioned that he was afraid of being alone and that he didn't want that for his own life. However, inside the bathroom, the driver said that no one wanted him around because he was sad, going so far as to say that he was pathetic for that. As you approached one of the windows, you pursed your lips tightly as you remembered the way he had said those words, as well as the pain that permeated them.
At that moment, you didn't know what to say to him, limiting yourself to putting him under the cold spray of the shower. However, the answer didn't come with a night's sleep, much less with a walk around the house or long minutes of contemplation of the Mediterranean that stretched blue and infinite between the trees. You knew it shouldn't be so difficult, that you could limit yourself to a few words of comfort and a hug, but it didn't seem like much.
— Good morning — you heard someone say behind you. When you turned around, you found Jenson standing in the middle of the room, his hair completely messed up as he rubbed his eyes.
— Good morning, Jense. Did you remember that underwear exists? — you gave a little smile. Looking down, the driver assessed his own underwear for a few seconds before looking back at you.
— I thought I should redeem myself after what happened yesterday. In fact, I apologize for — he hesitated for a few seconds — Everything.
— I appreciate your intention, but you don't need to apologize for yesterday.
— But I…
— It's alright. These are things that friends do.
A smile appeared on Jenson's face, but something told you he wasn't entirely sincere.
— Have you done this for other friends of yours?
— To some. You're not the only one I know who likes to drink, Jense.
— Lucky them to have you — he said, running a hand through his hair — And me too.
— Yeah, lucky you too.
The silence lasted for a few seconds until Jenson let out a sigh.
— Is there anything to eat in this house?
— I didn't find anything.
— I think Natasha cleaned the kitchen that day — he murmured, placing his hands on his hips — Do you want to go for coffee?
— In your house?
— Yeah, I guess — Jenson replied, with a little smile — I'm going to get dressed and we go, okay?
— Okay — you said, crossing your arms as he turned around and headed for the stairs.
You headed to Monaco in your rented MINI, navigating the tight, winding streets at a leisurely pace. This was clearly not something Jenson was used to, considering he was shaking his leg non-stop. However, you preferred to remain silent, trying not to get lost in the tiny entrances spread across the city.
You finally spoke up as you parked in front of the building, a white structure neatly placed against the hill that squeezed the city against the sea.
— We’re here — you smiled.
— Yes, we're here — Jenson murmured, without much excitement.
— Let's go up?
He hesitated for a few seconds.
— I don't know if it's a good idea.
You raised an eyebrow.
— Jense, you live there.
— But I don't know if I can...
— Why couldn't you go up to your apartment?
Passing a hand over his face, he merely muttered a swear word before exiting the car with heavy steps. You followed him in silence, particularly confused. Greeting the doorman, you walked down the hall to the elevator, which opened its doors promptly. Inside the metal cubicle, you could see the tension in the way Jenson clenched his jaw.
Tension that dissipated when he opened the apartment door and found that the place was empty.
— Thank God — he murmured, running his fingers through his hair.
— For what? — you questioned him.
— What?
— Thank God for what, Jense? — you repeated, seriously — What happened? Does it have something to do with what happened yesterday?
— Y/N…
— I know this is a complicated time, but I need you to trust me. You know I'm here to help you, it's always been like this, Jense.
— I know…
— So tell me. Tell me what happened and I will help you.
Jenson walked to the sofa, laying down between the pillows with oriental prints.
— It's complicated, Y/N...
— How complicated?
— Complicated in the sense that you can't fix it — Jenson replied, looking impatient — In fact, I don't even think I can do that...
— Tell me, for fuck’s sake! — you shouted, irritated by that damn suspense he was making.
— Jessica broke up with me! — he returned in a scream that seemed to carry all his anger and sadness — And before you ask, it wasn't friendly or anything like that.
You stared at Jenson for long seconds, carefully thinking about your next words. Something told you to try to talk to him to better understand the situation, perhaps even to orchestrate a reconciliation, however, you remembered something he had said the night before.
— Was she the one who said you were pathetic? That no one wants you around?
The question hit him in a sensitive spot, his blue eyes filling with tears. Upon seeing that reaction from the driver, you didn't hesitate to put yourself in the space between his legs and hug him tightly, his head against your stomach. Jessica had said that to him and, in a way, it filled you with anger.
Jenson wasn't pathetic, much less someone nobody wanted around. In fact, there were days that you just wanted him to be close to you, making you smile with his good-natured comments about trivial things. In your view, Jenson was like the sun, brightening even the grayest of British days. And he didn't deserve to be erased, especially by someone who didn't appreciate him the same way you did.
— You know it's a lie, Jense...
— But I can't stop crying — he murmured against her body — I don't feel like I used to, I just feel...
— Sad?
— I miss him — Jenson replied, looking up at you — I miss him all the time...
— This is normal…
— Not for Jessica. She doesn't want a guy like that, who keeps crying all the time, sad, missing his own father. She wants the happy guy that likes to party, have fun and stuff...
— But I don't want to — you murmured.
Suddenly, he raised his head, looking startled by his response.
— No?
— I want Jenson. And know that, whoever truly loves you, will always be by your side, no matter if you're happy or sad — you said, running a hand through his hair.
The driver gave you a small smile before hugging you again, his head against your belly. The scene could even seem romantic, considering the stunning view from the apartment and his almost intimate touch on your waist. However, any suggestion went out the window when you heard an uninteresting sound.
— I think you're hungry — Jenson murmured, looking up at you. The comment made you laugh.
— I came here because someone promised me breakfast — you replied.
— Well, if you insist — he said, letting go of you and getting up from the sofa.
The meal preparation was simple, with some scrambled eggs, toast and a cup of coffee each, courtesy of Jenson's inability to make anything more elaborate. Sitting at the kitchen counter, you were eating practically in silence when the driver broke the silence.
— Thank you for finding me yesterday.
— Oh, there’s no need to — you replied, taking another sip of your coffee.
— I need to, Y/N. I don't even remember how I ended up there without using a car, especially with that horrible whiskey.
— Yesterday you said it was great — you laughed.
— So you could see that I wasn't doing well — he replied, bursting into laughter along with you.
When the laughter stopped, you looked at each other for a few seconds.
— Any problem?
— None, I just remembered something my father said — Jenson replied.
— About what?
— About Jessica.
You rolled your eyes, picking up your coffee cup.
— Are you going to talk about her again, Jense? — you questioned, punctuating the sentence with a sip.
— No, it's just — he said quickly, hesitating a few seconds before continuing — He had told me once that she wasn't the right woman for me.
— When?
Jenson poked the scrambled eggs with his fork, somewhat disinterested.
— I think it was after I went to McLaren. It was a conversation we had after an argument I had with her. And he said that Jessica wasn't the woman for me and that there was no point in insisting on that relationship.
— No?
— “It’s a waste of time to continue with this girl, she doesn’t care about you”, he told me — he continued — But I didn’t listen. I thought it was nonsense of him, but he kept talking...
— Talking?
— That the perfect woman was right under my nose and that I was ignoring her.
You raised an eyebrow.
— And you were?
— I like to think not, but — Jenson hesitated, looking at you — I think he was right. Again.
You just smiled.
— John always had a good eye for these things. Especially when it came to you.
It was the driver's turn to smile, without saying a word. And in a way, it didn't need to. John knew his son like no one else, and if he said something was better for Jenson's life or career, he was almost always right. “Maybe that’s why he misses John so much”, you thought, turning your attention back to your plate.
After finishing your meal, you helped Jenson with organizing the kitchen, before checking the time and realizing that you were quite late.
— I need to go — you murmured, heading towards the door.
— Do you have any engagements?
— I have to pack my bags at the hotel.
— I thought you had them at the car — the driver said, with a small smile at the corner of his mouth.
— No, they're in Nice. I had gone to visit a friend here when I stopped by John's house and, well, everything happened — you explained — But now I can't stay, my flight leaves in the early afternoon.
— Where are you going?
— London.
Jenson pouted.
— What a shame, I thought youI would take the opportunity to make a stopover in Ibiza.
— No, I need a guide to the best parties and he's not available at the moment — you returned, in the acid tone that you knew disarmed him every time. And just as you expected, he laughed.
— In fact. So, I guess I'll see you later.
— Yes, you have to be in Woking in a week.
— Thank you for reminding me — he said, approaching you for a goodbye hug — Have a good trip.
— Thanks.
You were arranging your bag on your shoulder when Jenson said your name.
— Yeah? — you said, looking back.
— My father was talking about you.
A hot wave rose to your cheeks, your hand tightening on the door handle. Your heart was pounding inside your chest, almost as if it had suddenly come back to life.
— I imagined — you managed to say, before leaving the apartment.
it's been exactly five minutes since the race has started and nico rosberg has already written three sonnets and an ode to lewis hamilton and defended his move for the zero people that attacked him for it I know that's right
hearts intertwined (hamilton x sister! driver!rosberg) p7
chapter 7: we crashed and burned
warnings - none at all
series masterlist
The Silverstone crowd roared as the grid lights went out. Y/N, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs, launched off the line with a blistering start. Having lived in the UK for most of her life, it was her home. This was it. Her home race, her first real shot at a win.
However, qualifying hadn't been kind. A gearbox glitch had left her in P4, frustration gnawing at her. Up ahead, Lewis, the ever-dominant force, sat comfortably in P1. The radio crackled in her ear, Liam's voice calm and collected. "Keep your head down, Y/N. We'll get our chance."
Y/N gritted her teeth, focusing on the race ahead. From the very first corner, she displayed her aggressive driving style, surgically carving her way through the pack. A risky overtake on Bottas here, a daring move on Ricciardo there – Y/N was on a mission.
By lap 15, she had clawed her way up to P2, breathing down Lewis's neck. The tension in the air crackled, the crowd sensing a brewing battle. Y/N pushed her car to the limit, matching Lewis turn for turn.
Lewis, frustrated by her relentless pursuit, made a critical error in judgment. He pitted early, a gamble that backfired spectacularly. Y/N, seizing this golden opportunity, stretched her lead. The Red Bull garage erupted in cheers as she crossed the finish line, checkered flag waving, a first-place victory secured.
The champagne shower was bittersweet. Yes, she had won, but the joy was tinged with a sense of unease. A clip of Lewis's furious radio message, broadcasted after his failed pit strategy, had gone viral. "What a stupid fucking move! She's a cheat, just like her brother!"
Y/N's smile faded. Her phone buzzed incessantly. Twitter was a storm of angry comments, fueled by Lewis's outburst. Tears pricked at her eyes. This wasn't how she'd envisioned her first win. The Lewis she'd known, the playful boy she'd shared video game afternoons with, was a distant memory.
The other drivers, sensing her distress, gathered around her, offering congratulations and words of encouragement. Max, ever the blunt one, scoffed. "Don't listen to that loser, Y/N. You earned that win fair and square."
Lando chimed in, his voice gentle. "Lewis will get over it. He just hates seeing someone else on the podium."
Y/N forced a smile, her voice choked with emotion. "Thanks, guys." But the victory felt hollow. The playful rivalry she'd secretly harbored a spark for had morphed into something toxic and consuming. As she walked away, a single tear rolled down her cheek, a silent testament to a shattered dream.
Fury simmered in Nico's eyes as he stormed into Y/N's garage. The radio message, the hateful words Lewis had spewed – they were a declaration of war, not just on Y/N, but on their entire family. He found Y/N huddled with Max and Lando, a brave smile plastered on her face.
"Y/N," Nico's voice was a low growl. "That message…"
Y/N waved him off, her smile faltering. "Don't worry about it, Nico. Lewis is just… Lewis."
Max scoffed. "Just Lewis? That was disgusting! You drove brilliantly, Y/N. You deserved that win."
Y/N offered a weak smile. "Thanks, Max. I appreciate it."
Across the paddock, Lewis watched the interaction unfold. A pang of guilt twisted in his gut as he saw Nico comfort Y/N, wiping away a stray tear that escaped her determined facade. The playful banter, the shared laughter of their childhood – it seemed a lifetime ago. He had let the rivalry consume him, turning a sweet memory into a bitter enemy.
Later that evening, Y/N exited the restroom, her face drawn. Lewis, who had been washing his hands, froze. He knew he owed her an apology, a genuine one. He opened his mouth to speak, but Y/N brushed past him, ignoring his presence altogether.
"Y/N, wait," he pleaded. "I need to apologize for what I said. It was…"
Y/N stopped, her back stiff. Tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to spill over. The dam broke when Lewis spoke again.
"It was unprofessional and disrespectful," he continued, his voice low. "You are a phenomenal driver, Y/N, and you deserve every bit of your success."
She spun around, her voice trembling with unshed tears. "Don't you dare," she choked out. "Don't you dare act like you fucking care now. You and Nico… you fell out, you started hating each other so deeply that... you stopped being in each others lives. And I had to watch him lose a best friend, and in the process, I lost you. I cried for days when you stopped talking to him, Lewis. And you know what? You didn't even call or text me one time. Not when everyone on Twitter called me a nepo baby, not when I got into that crash in F2. Not when the entire racing community said that I didn't deserve a place because i was a woman. You were part my whole world. My. Whole. Fucking. Universe. And it was so easy for you to leave and cut me out. So no Lewis. I'm not giving in this time because as much as you claim to be Mister. Nice Guy I know your reality and it is the fact that you didn't care one bit."
Lewis felt the floor drop out from under him. He had no right to be surprised. He had pushed Y/N away, collateral damage in his war with Nico. The pain etched on her face mirrored the forgotten ache in his own heart.
"Y/N…" he stammered, his voice heavy with regret. But the words died in his throat. He had hurt her, pushed her away, and apologizing now felt hollow in the face of his past actions.
Y/N wiped away a tear, her voice laced with a steely resolve. "Save it, Lewis. The damage is done." With that, she turned and walked away, leaving Lewis alone with the weight of his remorse.
. . . in his own little way, max finds the solutions to his problems not without a little help from his friends and ends up giving you the confession of a lifetime
amgf yeah... there's this, just fluff. i won't be as active this week because of exams and research but this is prime time of my impulsive ideas so either i can milk this opportunity to write every single day, or avoid this app for the remainder of the week. enjoy 👍
Max strives for stability.
He enjoys the same routine that consists of jogging at eight am, early morning workout by nine am, brunch, a few rounds of sim racing, stopping by for a few phone calls and online meetings. If he isn’t expected to fly anywhere else he’d have his usual afternoon snack, play with his cats, more sim racing from six to eight pm, dinner with his team, reviewing data and notes, an hour for his own leisure— mostly sim racing, before heading to bed at one am.
Whatever happens in between is usually one of Lando’s plans in an attempt to spice things up in his life. Whether it’s going to the movies, buying ice cream at the convenience store down the street, or playing padel. Max is very much thankful for his friends.
Max also strives for the best.
He takes pride in his skills in racing and acknowledges his talent, and flaws. Honing them like a sharp knife through whetstones, he polishes himself and cuts through the defenses of the grid. He is a World Champion for a reason, and with a great car and team behind him, he knows they’ll get far. Max is very much thankful for the trust his team set upon him.
Max hates uncertainty.
Well- hate is too strong of a word and dislike would be too weak for his opinions.
Max despises uncertainty.
Especially when there’s you- the current root of all his “problems”. Despite his tendency to be blunt and straightforward statements, uncertainty always left a distasteful feeling in his mouth.
Realizing that his wavering feelings for you have now shattered the routine he built to perfection. Long gone are sleeping on time and hello to staying up with you crowding his thoughts. Head full of the lingering scent of your perfume and the same voice playing in his head.
Max hated it. He despised how you orbit around his mind, bouncing through the walls of the gray matter inside his skull. He often catches himself smiling at the thought of you- before a bitter scowl fills his face and an incredulous and slightly constipated look pasted on his face.
But that was the least of his worries, such feelings could be fixed (a term he used to convince himself these are temporary). It’s not that Max doesn’t believe in relationships or think it’s nothing but a distraction, deep inside he’s aware that he craves affection. It’s the vague emotions clouding his heart making him think twice.
Then again, Max is thankful for his friends.
“What did you say?” Lando squinted his eyes in the hopes to hear his words clearly. With a blank look- almost as if he put on a mask void of emotions Max spoke once more.
“Do I like YN?”
The rest tilted their head to the side, in confusion. “D-did you perhaps ask us. . . if- if you like someone?” George, asked once more to make sure of his words, sighing in disbelief.
“It’s not just someone, it’s YN.” Max pushed the question once more and glanced at everyone on the table.
The silence was deafening. Max’ statement was too loud and too quiet at the same time, no one spoke and they left each other contemplating on the next words he will say.
“I need help. How do I know I like YN?” Collective gasps were heard throughout and one by one they slowly left the group of friends on the table leaving Max with Lando and George.
“How about we sleep over your question and. . .think— think about it you know?” Lando, the first to talk regarding the revelation that their stoic friend has now developed feelings for someone.
“Sleep? I hardly get any sleep these nights. I want to confirm my feelings now so I can finally sleep peacefully.”
That’s when the pair noticed the bags under his eyes, mostly due to the lack of sleep like he said. Lando took a glance at George and started to talk telepathically at each other.
George sighs before pushing Max from his seat, “You see Max these feelings can’t be confirmed in a night, these requ-”
“It’s been weeks, George, I can’t lose sleep over such a trivial matter.” Max retorted with a firm stance using his lack of sleep as a front to confirm his feelings.
“Okay, first of all feelings are not a trivial matter. They are valid, and whatever is going on in your head about YN shouldn’t be taken lightly. Not because we’re curious but because we care about your emotional well being.” Lando spoke in a serious voice which only added on to Max’ confusion.
Feelings are not a big deal, at least not for him.
“And we're curious as to why you like YN.” George chimed as he followed the pair outside the room.
“Yes we’re curious but now how about I give you some romance books that you can study and read. Only you can confirm your feelings Max, let’s stop by my room and I’ll give you books you can read and next week- next week we’ll talk about this matter again.”
Lando now sounds like a mom scolding his child for misbehaving, dragging the latter to his room and sending him off with a tower of romance books.
Max is smart, he can understand such concepts by himself.
Feeling accomplished, Lando glanced at George smirking at him before walking away with Max to his apartment.
Max on the other hand went inside his room and began to bury himself in the books he brought along. “If I’m not sleeping at least I get my feelings in line.”
One chapter. And another turns to five and in the blink of an eye a week has passed. Max returned to his routine but instead of sleeping at one he pushed it to an even later hour to make time for reading which helped him sleep.
The first nights were hard, after finishing a chapter of the book he finds himself falling asleep and now you appear to become more vivid in his mind. Invading his dreams as romantic scenarios play on repeat while Max mindlessly sleeps which results in him waking up flustered and warm.
Passing by you on the paddock became frequent; it's as if the universe has its way to bring you together. Now everywhere Max looked there was you, in the corner of his sight you occupied a chunk of his thoughts and as much as he hated to admit he found himself anticipating your presence.
By the end of the week you managed to invade his thoughts and heart which only strengthened his theory and confirmed his feelings for you. With no time to waste, Max went to look for you. The second practice was over, he’s telling you what you’re doing to him.
With new found information from the team about your whereabouts, Max made his way to the hospitality locating where you’re assigned he opens the door abruptly to see you preparing food. You stand straight feeling the intimidating aura around him, you watch him exhale a sigh of relief before talking a large step in your direction. On instinct you back away giving him space, every step Max takes is a step backward from you.
Unknowingly your feet hit the corner of the marble countertop and like a cliché scene Max remembers from the books he’s been reading you stumble backwards.
Max is a racer for a reason, and with swift reflexes he managed to catch your fall and brought you up to your feet. “You should watch where you’re going. I don’t want you falling just like how I fell for you.”
Silence. Complete, utter silence from the both of you paired with the low buzz of the booming air conditioner right near you. You blink your eyes incredulously, “What?”
“I mean. . . I do want you to fall for me, it would be sad to find out that my feelings are one-sided. But I mean my words YN.”
You adjust your posture and back away. “What are the words Max? About me falling to the ground or you. . . you f- falling for me?” Your voice thins out at the end unsure of what you just heard.
“Both. I don’t want you to fall, it’s dangerous just like how you did to me. You enamored me with those charms, I just want to know how you did it.” Max spoke with the most bored and plain looking face he could muster up. His palms were sweating inside his pockets in extreme nervousness.
“Is this- is this your confession perhaps?” You try to piece things together, like the subtle clues Lando and George have been leaving out of nowhere.
“Yes. This is my confession.” Max blurts out as sweat drips from the side of his forehead. And just as he was losing hope from this failed confession your bubbly laugh bursts the silence in the air.
“You know, you need to work on your confession more. That was unlike any other, but I understand what you mean. Do you want me to fall for you, Maxie?”
Max stares at you and you don't miss the soft gaze he set upon you. You note the light blush spread around the apples of his cheeks as his eyes light up the moment you called his name. The once awkward silent air was now filled with a warm feeling that spread all over your body, leaving goosebumps all over your skin.
“I do. I fell for you, I like you, and I want to mean something to you.”
His way with words caught you off guard, Max Verstappen, who would’ve thought. You smile at him, this time it’s you walking towards his direction.
Max stiffened at the proximity between the two of you, his feet stuck to the floor preventing him from backing away. Your face gets closer to his and all the thoughts clouding his mind have been wiped away.
You face him and whisper something in his ear before walking away towards the kitchen at the back, legs shaking and breaths heavy.
Taking a moment to himself Max meditates in an attempt to calm his bouncing heart, legs shaking as if they ran a hundred miles, and his mind whirring into different ideas and possibilities.
Max never falls- literally and figuratively.
Yet you managed to be the root of all his problems. The person who made him fall, there was no doubt that Max fell and will still be falling for you.
