Viki's world

tatemcrae : love you foreverrrrr 💋💋💋💓 thank u for making this tour magic 🫶🏻

liked by yn_leclerc

findlaymcconnell : miss you already angel!!!🥹

liked by yn_leclerc

↳ yn_leclerc : miss you even more! only four more weeks until we r back together 🤧🤧

liked by findlaymcconnell and tatemcrae

olliebearman : beyond proud of you ❤️‍🔥

liked by yn_leclerc, lando, georgerussell63, isackhadjar, alex_albon, lilymhe, alexandrasaintmleux, kimi.antonelli and oscarpiastri

↳ yn_leclerc : thank you for the flowers olliebear 💋🤧 i appreciate youuuu

liked by olliebearman, isackhadjar, lando, kimi.antonelli and alexandrasaintmleux

alexandrasaintmleux : absolutely unreal!! so proud of you ma petite sœur 🤍✨

liked by yn_leclerc and charles_leclerc

↳ yn_leclerc : my alex 🥹 love you so much

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lilymhe : YOU ARE A STAR ⭐️💖

liked by yn_leclerc

↳ yn_leclerc : LILYYYYYYYYY COME GIMME A KISS

liked by lilymhe

charles_leclerc : proud big brother moment ❤️ congrats ma belle ❤️

liked by yn_leclerc

↳ yn_leclerc : couldn’t have done it without my big brother 🤧 love you smmmm❤️

liked by charles_leclerc

↳ arthur_leclerc : big brothers***

↳ yn_leclerc : would’ve said that but didn’t see you in the comments yet

arthur_leclerc : THATS MY LITTLE SISTER!!!!!! SO PROUD!!!!

liked by yn_leclerc

↳ yn_leclerc : THATS MY ARTHUR!!!!!!! WOOOOOO

liked by arthur_leclerc

franciscagomes : my girl😭🫶🏻 never been more proud in my life

liked by yn_leclerc and pierregasly

lando : ok but when are you teaching me and oscar that choreo?

liked by yn_leclerc and oscarpiastri

↳ yn_leclerc : after seeing oscar griddy…there is not much i have to work with

liked by lando and oscarpiastri

lorenzotl : magnifique comme toujours 💙 si fier de toi

liked by yn_leclerc

↳ yn_leclerc : enzooo🥹 love you always

carlossainz55 : thank you for the free tickets in spain! you were absolutely incredible 🎉

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kimi.antonelli : ollie AND charles have been bragging about you nonstop 😵‍💫

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↳ charles_leclerc : she is quite literally my little sister and i will talk about her all i want. not sure what bearman’s excuse is

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↳ olliebearman : just proud of a friend…?

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↳ lando : boooooo bad excuse 🍅🍅🍅

georgerussell63 : save some talent for the rest of us pls

liked by yn_leclerc

↳ yn_leclerc : ill try my best georgie 😌

maxverstappen1 : ongelooflijk getalenteerd. zo trots op jou kleintje (incredibly talented. so proud of you little one)

liked by yn_leclerc and charles_leclerc

↳ yn_leclerc : my maxie 😭 jouw steun betekent de wereld voor mij. ik hou van je. (your support means the world to me. love you)

liked by maxverstappen1

↳ lando : little leclerc. how many languages do you know??? i swear you’re never speaking english

liked by yn_leclerc and charles_leclerc

↳ yn_leclerc : id say like 7

↳ lando : oh ok. so you just think you’re better than all of us?

liked by yn_leclerc

↳ yn_leclerc : yes exactly!

liked by maxverstappen1 and lando

—

You’re backstage, adjusting the last glittery detail on your costume, when your phone buzzes with a “Good luck tonight ❤️” text from Charles. It makes you smile, but you don’t think much of it—he always texts before big shows, even when he’s halfway across the world at a race.

What you don’t know is that he, Alexandra, Arthur, Lorenzo, Pierre, and Kika are currently slipping through the VIP entrance of the arena, grinning like they’re on a secret mission. Alexandra has a bouquet of your favorite flowers in her arms, Pierre is carrying a bag stuffed with merch he bought at the front just to “blend in,” and Kika has her phone out, already filming.

The lights go down, the music swells, and the crowd screams. You burst onto the stage with the rest of the dancers, moving through choreography that’s second nature to you now—but when your eyes sweep the front row, you catch sight of something that almost throws you off beat.

Charles. Grinning from ear to ear, arms raised, clapping wildly. Alexandra beside him, blowing you a kiss. Arthur and Lorenzo waving like maniacs, Pierre already pretending he’s your number one fan, and Kika recording everything while cheering your name.

Your chest tightens in the best way, and you can’t help the huge smile that spreads across your face mid-routine. The energy from them—and the entire arena—pushes you to dance harder, sharper, freer than ever before.

By the time the final song ends and you’re standing center stage, sweaty and breathless, you spot them again. Alexandra is on her feet clapping, Charles has his phone out filming, and Arthur is whistling so loud it makes you laugh into the mic as you thank the crowd.

When you finally get backstage, you barely have time to grab a towel before you’re engulfed in a pile of arms.

“Surprise!” Charles shouts, hugging you so tight you squeak.

“Are you insane?” You laugh, pulling back to look at all of them. “You flew out here?!”

“We couldn’t miss your last European show,” Alexandra says, handing you the bouquet. “You were incredible. Seriously, I cried.”

Arthur slings an arm around your shoulder. “Best little sister and best dancer in the world.”

“And best choreographer,” Pierre adds with a wink.

You just shake your head, eyes stinging a little as you pull them all in for another hug. “You guys are the best. I can’t believe you did this.”

“Well,” Charles says, smiling, “we wanted to remind you that you’re as much a part of our world as we are of yours. And… we’re very proud of you.”

It’s cheesy. And it’s perfect. And you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

—

You’re still buzzing from the adrenaline of the last performance when Alexandra loops her arm through yours and says, “Come on, superstar. Let’s get you out of those heels before your feet quit on you.”

Kika appears on your other side, grinning. “And before you run off to hug another fifty people backstage. We’re claiming you first.”

You laugh, letting them guide you down the hallway toward your dressing room. The sound of crew packing up, dancers laughing, and muffled music playing from someone’s speaker echoes around you. Your heart’s still racing from the show, but in a warm, happy way.

When Alexandra pushes open your dressing room door, you freeze.

Sitting right in the middle of the counter is the biggest bouquet you’ve ever seen—roses, peonies, tulips, and little sprigs of baby’s breath tucked between them. It’s so big it’s spilling out of the glass vase, and there’s a small white envelope leaning against it with your name in familiar handwriting.

“Ohhh, someone’s in love,” Kika sing-songs immediately.

Your cheeks warm before you’ve even opened the card. Alexandra’s smirking, already grabbing her phone like she needs photographic evidence.

Inside the card is a short note:

Congratulations on the last Europe show. I’m so proud of you. Sorry I couldn’t be there but I can’t wait to see you soon. — Ollie ❤️

“Okay, that’s adorable,” Alexandra says, pressing a hand over her chest. “I think Charles might actually approve of this one.”

You roll your eyes but you’re smiling so hard it’s impossible to hide. Without thinking twice, you grab your phone and hit FaceTime. It rings twice before Ollie’s face pops up, a little pixelated like he’s not on the best WiFi.

“Hey—” He grins instantly. “You’re done!”

“I am,” you laugh, holding the phone so he can see the bouquet. “And I may have gotten your flowers.”

His smile grows, eyes crinkling. “Yeah? They arrived in time?”

“They did. They’re huge, Ollie.”

“I wanted to make sure they stood out,” he says, shrugging like it’s no big deal. “I couldn’t be there, so… I watched someone’s TikTok livestream of the whole thing.”

Your heart squeezes. “You what?”

He nods, looking a little sheepish. “Found it on my FYP. I was basically in the front row—well, if you count someone’s shaky phone camera and bad mic quality as front row. You were… amazing.”

You can’t help the way your smile softens. “You stayed for the whole thing?”

“All of it,” he says immediately. “Even the encore. Even when they accidentally flipped the camera and I saw their face for like five minutes.”

Alexandra and Kika are in the corner of the dressing room, pretending to be busy but absolutely listening in, grinning at each other.

“That’s very dedicated of you,” you tease, though your voice is quieter now.

He shrugs again, but this time his cheeks are pink. “You worked so hard on this tour. I didn’t want to miss it… even if it was through a screen.”

You glance back at the bouquet, then at him. “Well, mission accomplished. You officially made my night.”

His grin is bright enough to make you forget you’re still in a glittery stage outfit. “Good. That was the plan.”

—

You barely have time to change out of your costume and into a cozy but still nice dress before Alexandra and Kika are herding you out of the dressing room. The bouquet from Ollie sits on the counter, taking up an absurd amount of space, so Alexandra scoops it up without a word.

“You’re not leaving these here,” she says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

The walk from the venue to the restaurant is short, but the flowers make it feel like a parade. People glance at you, at the massive bouquet, and back again. Kika keeps giggling under her breath every time someone does a double take.

When you step inside the restaurant, you’re immediately met with the sound of Charles calling your name. He, Arthur, Lorenzo, and Pierre are already at a big round table near the back, drinks in hand.

Arthur’s the first to notice what Alexandra is carrying. “Ooooh, what’s this?” His eyes widen, already suspicious.

You don’t even get a chance to answer before Pierre leans forward. “That is not from Charles. That is not from Alexandra. That is from…?”

Alexandra, unhelpfully, says, “Ollie,” like she’s reading out an answer key.

Arthur nearly chokes on his water. “Ollie? Ollie Bearman? Ollie who races with Charles?”

Charles, mid-sip of his wine, slowly lowers his glass and raises an eyebrow at you. “Ah, so that’s why Ollie’s been smiling at his phone all week.”

“Don’t start,” you warn, sliding into the seat between Kika and Arthur.

But it’s too late. Arthur is grinning like a brother who’s just discovered a new favorite button to push. “Ollie sent flowers? Big flowers. This is serious.”

“They’re huge,” Pierre agrees, inspecting them like they’re evidence in a case. “He’s either in love or apologizing for crashing your car.”

“He doesn’t have a car to crash of mine,” you deadpan.

“That’s not the point,” Arthur says, shaking his head. “The point is, our little Ollie has taste.”

Charles leans back in his chair, trying—and failing—to hide a smirk. “I suppose I should be glad it’s him and not Lando.”

“Go easy on him. He isn’t here to defend himself.” Pierre jokes.

Kika, clearly enjoying every second, adds, “Ollie also watched her show on a random TikTok livestream tonight.”

That sets the whole table off. Arthur’s jaw drops. “Oh, that’s dedication. That’s boyfriend-level dedication.”

Lorenzo, who’s been quietly sipping his drink this whole time, finally chimes in. “He’s a good kid. Just… don’t let him distract you.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “Can we please just eat dinner without turning this into a family investigation?”

“No,” Charles, Arthur, Pierre, and Kika say in unison.

Alexandra pats your shoulder sympathetically, but she’s laughing too. “Sorry, love. This is what happens when you date someone in the paddock.”

You peek through your fingers, half embarrassed, half smiling. The teasing might be relentless, but deep down, you can’t stop thinking about the way Ollie’s face lit up on FaceTime earlier—and how, no matter how much the table laughs tonight, you don’t actually mind them knowing.

—

You’re exhausted by the time the car pulls up in front of your apartment building in Monaco the next evening. Your suitcase feels twice as heavy as it did when you left, and all you can think about is a shower, pajamas, and sleeping for twelve straight hours.

The familiar scent of your place hits you when you step inside—soft vanilla candles, the faint salt from the sea drifting through an open window. You toss your keys on the counter and wheel your suitcase into the hallway… then freeze.

Your dining table is set.

Not just set—perfectly set. Plates, wine glasses, and in the center, your absolute favorite dinner, still warm, steam curling gently into the air. Next to it, a box from Van Cleef sits under the glow of the overhead light.

Your first thought is that Alexandra somehow orchestrated this. But when you pick up the little card next to the box, you see the handwriting immediately.

Welcome home. Proud of you, always. ❤️

You sit down, carefully undoing the ribbon like it’s the most precious thing in the world. Inside is a delicate silver necklace—one you’d admired weeks ago when walking past the store in Monte Carlo. A simple chain with a tiny, elegant pendant. You didn’t think anyone remembered.

The weight in your chest shifts from surprise to something much warmer. You’re still staring at the necklace in your hands when there’s a knock on the door.

Your heart skips.

When you open it, Ollie’s standing there—fresh hoodie, hair a little messy from the wind, holding a small bag.

“Hey,” he says softly, that shy smile tugging at his lips. “Surprise.”

You laugh, stepping aside to let him in. “You’re the one behind the dinner and the necklace, aren’t you?”

He shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I figured… you’ve been on the road for weeks, performing every night. Thought you could use something familiar. And… I remembered you looking at that necklace.”

Your throat feels tight in the best way. “Ollie, it’s perfect. You didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to,” he says simply. “I missed you.”

It’s so quiet for a moment, just the sound of the ocean outside and your heart hammering in your ears. You take a step closer, still holding the necklace. “Help me put it on?”

He nods, taking it gently from your hand. You turn, feeling the whisper of cool metal against your skin as he fastens it, his fingers brushing the back of your neck. When you face him again, he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing in the room.

“Looks better on you than I imagined,” he says, voice almost a whisper.

You smile, and before you can overthink it, you wrap your arms around him. He holds you close, the kind of hug that feels like coming home all over again.

And for the first time in weeks, you don’t feel tired at all.

—

yn_leclerc

liked by olliebearman, charles_leclerc, alexandrasaintmleux and 1,850,000 others.

yn_leclerc : always happy to be back in monaco and w friends and fam💐 even got to teach a few private classes this week because i can’t ever take a break from dancing 😌

tagged : alexandrasaintmleux and olliebearman

—

view 83,000 other comments.

tatemcrae : teaching even on break… this is why you’re the best 😭😭 miss you already💖

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↳ tatemcrae : and you look so good im GAGGED

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↳ yn_leclerc : miss you even more angel face 🥹

liked by tatemcrae

charles_leclerc : good to have you home ❤️

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alexandrasaintmleux : leo missed you the most (jk it was meeeeee)

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arthur_leclerc : private classes or do you just like showing off???

liked by yn_leclerc

↳ yn_leclerc : both

liked by arthur_leclerc

lorenzotl : i mean this with all the love in the world…try resting for once…please❤️

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↳ yn_leclerc : anything for my big brother 🫶🏻

liked by lorenzotl

lando : interesting first pic choice…👀

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↳ olliebearman : don’t start lando

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↳ yn_leclerc : a picture of oliver bearman is guaranteed to get me more clicks

liked by lando and olliebearman

↳ lando : hmmm okay lovebirds

arthur_leclerc : nice necklace btw

liked by kimi.antonelli

↳ kimi.antonelli : he spent 45 minutes pacing back and forth between two different necklaces trying to remember which one she wanted liked by arthur_leclerc, charles_leclerc, lando, alexandrasaintmleux and yn_leclerc

↳ olliebearman : KIMI can you PLEASE stop outing me on social media?

↳ kimi.antonelli : no. ❤️

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olliebearman : prettiest girl in monaco:)

liked by yn_leclerc

—

The soft hum of music fills the studio as you guide your last few students through their final stretches. Your voice is calm and warm, full of encouragement. “Great job today, everyone. Remember, it’s all about feeling the music — let it move through you, not just your feet.” You smile, proud of how far they’ve come. “See you all next week.”

One by one, they file out, the sound of footsteps and soft chatter fading until the studio is quiet again. You breathe out slowly, relief washing over you as the tension from teaching slips away.

Then you hear the door open again.

You don’t notice at first, completely immersed in your own world. You move to the center of the room, close your eyes, and let the next song start playing softly from the speakers.

Your body begins to move naturally, flowing with the music. Every step, every turn, every gesture tells a story only you can feel. You’re lost in the dance — graceful and strong, delicate and fierce — like the music is carrying you somewhere only you can go. The room, the world outside, everything else just fades away.

Then, from the corner of your eye, you sense someone watching.

You open your eyes slowly and find Ollie standing quietly by the door, leaning against the frame with a soft smile on his face. His eyes are fixed on you, and suddenly, you realize how completely mesmerized he is.

Your cheeks flush a warm pink, and you pause mid-move, heart beating a little faster. “Ollie… you scared me,” you say softly, laughing nervously.

He steps forward, still smiling like he’s seen something rare and beautiful. “I didn’t mean to,” he says, voice low and sincere. “I just— I didn’t want to interrupt, but I couldn’t leave without telling you how incredible that was.”

You blink, caught off guard by the earnestness in his tone. “Really?”

He nods. “Yeah. Watching you dance like that… it’s like you’re telling me a story without words. It’s… amazing.”

For a moment, you both just stand there, the quiet between you filled with something electric and tender.

Then Ollie grins, a little sheepishly. “Mind if I stay and watch a little more?”

You laugh, the warmth spreading through you again. “I don’t mind at all.”

And as the music begins again, you start moving once more—this time, with Ollie’s eyes on you, every step feels even more alive.

You let the music carry you, the room growing smaller until it’s just you and the melody and the way your movements express everything you don’t say.

Ollie takes a small step closer, eyes never leaving you. You catch a glimpse of something soft and vulnerable in his expression, like he’s seeing a side of you that few ever get to witness. It makes your heart flutter.

As the song reaches a quiet crescendo, you slow to a gentle finish, breathing a little heavier than before. You finally open your eyes and meet his gaze, the room suddenly feeling charged with something electric.

“Wow,” he breathes out, voice low and a little awestruck. “You’re incredible.”

You bite your lip, feeling a shy smile tug at your mouth. “Thanks. I don’t usually dance like that when people are watching.”

He grins, stepping fully into the room now, closer but still respectful of your space. “Well, I’m glad I stayed. It’s like you’ve got this whole other world inside you that only comes alive when you dance.”

You glance away for a second, cheeks still warm. “Maybe. It’s the only place I really feel free.”

Ollie nods thoughtfully, then surprises you by holding out his hand. “Will you teach me a little? Maybe after class sometime?”

Your heart does a quick flip. “You want to dance?”

He laughs softly, a bit embarrassed but genuine. “Yeah. I’m terrible, but I want to try. With you.”

You look at his hand for a moment, then take it, feeling the warmth of his skin. “Okay. But I warn you, I’m a tough teacher.”

He squeezes your hand gently. “I’m ready.”

—

You cue up a slow, graceful waltz on the speaker, the soft strings filling the room with a delicate rhythm. The kind of music that makes your heart want to move in circles and glide. You step toward Ollie, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

“Alright, Ollie,” you say, “we’re going ballroom now. Think elegance, smoothness. I’ll show you the basic step first.”

You demonstrate, lifting your chin just slightly, shoulders back, arms relaxed but poised. You move forward with the right foot, then side, then close — the classic box step. Your movements flow like water, practiced and natural.

“Your turn,” you encourage, holding out your hand.

He hesitates a second, then takes it. His fingers are warm, a little uncertain. You guide him into position — your left hand in his right, your right hand resting lightly on his shoulder blade. You can’t help but notice how tall he is, how his posture tightens when he tries to mirror your grace.

“Okay, start slow. Right foot forward… now side… close.” You count softly, moving together as you lead him through the rhythm.

At first, he’s a bit stiff — his feet hesitant, steps a little off-beat — but with every count, he loosens up. You can see the focus in his eyes, his jaw clenched just slightly in concentration. And then — surprise! — he starts getting the timing right, his steps smoother, the awkwardness fading.

“Hey,” you tease, spinning him gently on the last beat, “not bad for a first-timer.”

Ollie grins, cheeks flushed. “Hey, I told you — quick learner.”

You laugh, feeling a warm bubble of pride and something softer you don’t quite name. Just as you’re about to teach him the next move, the studio door flies open with a loud bang that makes you both jump. Charles and Arthur burst inside like a pair of rowdy kids, grinning wildly.

“What the hell’s going on in here?!” Charles calls out, eyes landing immediately on you and Ollie mid-dance hold.

Arthur chuckles, stepping forward. “Ollie Bearman, ballroom dancer? Didn’t see that coming.”

Ollie rolls his eyes but can’t help laughing. “I’m trying to learn, okay? Give me some credit.”

Charles raises an eyebrow. “Credit for almost stepping on her foot twice? Hard pass.”

You shove Charles playfully, scowling at him. “Hey! Be nice or I’ll make you do the next lesson.”

Arthur tries to mimic your steps, but trips over his own feet and stumbles toward the barre, barely catching himself. You and Ollie exchange amused looks, both shaking your heads.

The entire studio fills with laughter and chaos — Charles and Arthur attempting half-hearted spins, Ollie struggling not to laugh and lose his balance, you desperately trying to keep everyone from knocking over the mirrors.

Finally, breathless and grinning like idiots, you take Ollie’s hand again, pulling him close.

“Alright, dance partner,” you say, “maybe we should save the rest of the lesson for when these two aren’t around before my studio looks like a tornado hit it.”

Ollie squeezes your hand, eyes sparkling. “Deal. But I’m definitely coming back for round two. And next time, we’ll bring the real moves.”

You grin back at him, feeling that flutter in your chest again. “I’m holding you to that.”

—

The sun is already high when you step onto Charles’s yacht, the polished teak deck gleaming under the clear blue sky. The salty breeze tousles your hair as you breathe in the sharp scent of the sea, feeling instantly lighter than you have in days. Charles had insisted you take the boat out, his grin wide. “Go have some fun. You deserve it.”

You can’t help but smile at his easy confidence in you. You quickly text Ollie, inviting him to join you, and soon enough, he’s there, stepping aboard with that familiar easy grin, dressed casually in a crisp white linen shirt and navy shorts. The way he looks at you — eyes warm, a little shy — makes your heart flutter in that familiar, wonderful way.

“Ready?” you ask, stepping to the helm.

“Absolutely,” he says, leaning in to press a quick, cheeky kiss to your temple.

The yacht glides smoothly over the sparkling water, leaving a white trail behind you as you head toward a quiet cove Charles had once mentioned — hidden and serene, perfect for escaping the world.

You talk and laugh, the easy rhythm between you comforting. Ollie tells you about his latest race, animated and passionate, and you share funny stories from your recent rehearsals. There are moments of silence, too — those quiet pauses that feel comfortable, not awkward, as you watch the waves catch the sunlight.

Once you reach the cove, you step out onto the deck barefoot, the wood warm beneath your feet. The water shimmers turquoise just beyond the railings, and the cliffs rise around you like silent sentinels.

Ollie stands close behind you, his fingers brushing against yours.

“Hey,” he says softly, turning you toward him. “Can I ask you something?”

You raise an eyebrow, heart skipping. “Sure.”

He hesitates, then grins. “Would you… want to dance? Right here, with me?”

Your breath catches, surprise and something tender blooming in your chest.

“Only if you promise not to step on my feet,” you tease, laughing.

He chuckles, reaching out his hand. “Deal.”

You let him lead you to the center of the deck, where the warm sunlight bathes you both in gold. You pull out your phone and cue up a slow, sultry song — something soft, perfect for two people getting lost in a moment.

Ollie’s hands find their places quickly: one resting lightly on your waist, the other clasping yours gently. You feel the warmth of his touch, steady and reassuring.

As you move together, the rhythm slow and deliberate, you can’t help but notice how much effort Ollie is putting in. His steps aren’t perfect — sometimes off beat, sometimes a little stiff — but his eyes never leave yours, filled with a mixture of concentration and wonder.

“You’re doing great,” you whisper.

He smiles, cheeks flushed. “Only because you’re such a good teacher.”

You laugh and lean into him as he spins you gently, the world narrowing down to just the two of you. The scent of saltwater and sun-warmed wood mingles with the faint hint of his cologne, a mix that makes your head spin in the best way.

As the song fades, you find yourself pressed close, breath mingling.

Ollie’s voice is soft, almost hesitant. “I’ve been wanting to do this forever.”

Before you can respond, he leans in slowly, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. It’s sweet and warm and full of promise, his hands sliding to cup your face as if afraid you might disappear if he didn’t hold on.

You melt into him, your fingers threading into his hair, pulling him closer. The kiss deepens, slow and deliberate, a conversation without words — all the feelings you’ve been holding back finally spilling over.

When you part, your foreheads rest together, smiles soft and breathless.

“Yeah,” you say, voice a little shaky but sure, “me too.”

The rest of the afternoon drifts by like a dream — you wrapped in each other’s arms on the sun-warmed deck, the endless sea stretching out around you, and the quiet knowledge that this is just the beginning.

—

The yacht rocks softly beneath you, the sun melting into the horizon in a breathtaking swirl of pinks, oranges, and purples. The golden light dances on the water, casting shimmering reflections that make the sea seem alive with fireflies.

You’re sitting side by side on the cushioned bench at the bow, legs just barely touching, hearts pounding in quiet harmony. A gentle breeze plays with your hair, carrying the salty scent of the ocean mixed with the faint aroma of fresh herbs and lemon from the dinner being prepared for you nearby.

Ollie catches your eye and smiles, that easy, genuine smile that always makes your chest tighten in the best way. “I still can’t believe you got me dancing,” he says with a chuckle, his hand casually resting near yours on the bench.

You bump his shoulder playfully. “Hey, you did better than I expected. You weren’t terrible.”

He grins, but then his expression softens. “Honestly… being out here with you, it’s the first time I’ve felt like I can just… be.”

Your fingers twitch, longing to reach out. Instead, you take a deep breath and say softly, “I get that. I feel the same. Dancing, the ocean, this… it’s like a little escape from everything.”

A waiter quietly approaches, carrying a tray with two plates — delicate seared scallops on a bed of asparagus, drizzled with lemon butter, and a side of roasted new potatoes. The aromas mingle with the sea air, making your stomach flutter.

“Dinner’s ready,” the waiter says with a respectful nod before slipping away.

Ollie slides closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’m glad we’re doing this.”

You smile, feeling warmth spread through your body. “Me too.”

You both eat slowly, savoring the food but more so the quiet intimacy that blankets you like a soft shawl. The occasional clink of cutlery and the gentle slap of waves against the hull are the only sounds aside from your conversation.

After a pause, Ollie reaches out and gently takes your hand, thumb brushing over your knuckles. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you,” he says, voice low and earnest.

You look up, heart already racing.

“I like you,” he admits, a little shy but sincere. “More than a friend, more than just someone I want to hang out with. I’ve been trying to find the right words for weeks, but honestly, I just want you to know.”

A soft smile curves your lips as you squeeze his hand. “I like you too. I think I’ve been hoping you’d say that.”

His eyes light up, and he leans in slowly, just enough to brush his forehead against yours. “So… what do we do now?”

You take a moment, feeling the steady beat of your heart and the calm in his gaze. “We take it slow. One moment at a time. No rush. Just… us.”

He nods, a gentle laugh escaping him. “One moment at a time. I like that.”

The sun dips lower, the sky deepening into twilight, and you sit together in comfortable silence, hands entwined, hearts open, and the vast ocean stretching endlessly around you — the perfect beginning to something beautiful.

—

yn_leclerc

liked by charles_leclerc, franciscagomes, olliebearman and 1,900,000 others.

yn_leclerc : last few days before tour starts:)

tagged : olliebearman, franciscagomes and charles_leclerc

—

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—

The soft glow of the restaurant’s ambient lighting casts a gentle warmth over the table where you, Kika, and Alexandra sit close together. The chatter of other diners fades into the background, leaving just the three of you in your own little bubble — a sanctuary before you head back out on the road.

Kika reaches across the table first, taking your hand with a reassuring squeeze. “I can’t believe you’re leaving again so soon,” she says softly, her voice tinged with sadness but also pride.

You smile, trying to keep your voice steady. “It’s what I have to do right now. But it’s hard. I’ll miss nights like this with you both.”

Alexandra nods, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “We’ll miss you too. But we’re so proud of everything you’re doing. You’re chasing your dreams, and that’s what matters.”

You reach for Alexandra’s hand, feeling the warmth there, the steady heartbeat beneath her skin. “Thank you. For being here, for understanding.”

Dinner arrives — beautifully plated dishes that you barely taste because your heart is too full. Still, the act of sharing a meal, of sitting together and talking, grounds you.

Kika laughs softly, telling a funny story about a mishap during her latest shoot, and you find yourself smiling through the bittersweetness. Alexandra shares plans for her next tour, the excitement lighting up her face.

After a while, the conversation quiets, and the three of you just sit together, the silence comfortable and full of unspoken love.

Finally, Alexandra speaks, voice gentle. “Promise me you’ll take care of yourself out there, okay? The road can be tough.”

You nod, eyes glistening. “I promise. And I’ll call you both as much as I can.”

Kika pulls you into a warm hug, and Alexandra joins in, the three of you tangled in a moment of pure connection.

When it’s time to go, you step outside into the cool night air, the stars twinkling overhead like a silent blessing. You take a deep breath, the bittersweet ache of goodbye mixing with hope and determination.

—

The glow of the TV bathes Ollie’s apartment in soft light, flickering over the walls and casting playful shadows as you both settle in on his couch. The cushions are plush beneath you, and the scent of freshly brewed coffee mingles with the faint trace of his cologne lingering in the air. Outside, the city hums quietly, but inside this small space, the world feels perfectly paused.

You grab the game controller and glance over at Ollie, who’s already smirking with that mischievous sparkle in his eyes. “Ready to lose?” he teases, fingers twitching in anticipation.

You laugh, bouncing a little on the couch. “In your dreams, Bearman. Prepare to eat my dust.”

The familiar upbeat theme of Mario Kart fills the room, and you both dive into the game with a burst of energy and playful competitiveness. The sound effects — karts zooming, shells flying, the cheerful announcer calling out “Rainbow Road!” — make you grin uncontrollably.

As you both race, the light teasing between you turns into bursts of laughter. At one point, your hands accidentally brush when reaching for the same power-up box, and for a brief moment, the room stills. Your eyes meet, and you catch that warmth in Ollie’s gaze — the quiet affection you’ve both been holding close.

He gives you a soft smile, no words needed.

Later, after a particularly close race where you narrowly beat him, Ollie sets down his controller and turns toward you, his expression suddenly softer, more serious.

“You know,” he says quietly, “I don’t want tomorrow to come.”

Your heart twists at the honesty in his voice. You lean your head on his shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath.

“Me neither,” you whisper. “It’s going to be hard being apart.”

He pulls you closer, his arm wrapping securely around your shoulders, fingers gently stroking your arm. The warmth of his touch seeps into you, a balm against the anxiety twisting in your chest.

“We’ll make this work,” he promises, voice low and sure. “Distance doesn’t mean losing what we have. We’re stronger than that.”

You nod, eyes closed, letting his words sink in. “One day at a time.”

For a while, you just sit there, wrapped up in each other, the only sounds the soft music from the game paused on the screen and the occasional distant city noise.

Finally, Ollie presses a gentle kiss to your temple. “No matter where you go, I’m with you.”

Your fingers find his hand, intertwining easily. “And I’m with you.”

The night stretches on around you — quiet, safe, and full of the kind of love that doesn’t need grand gestures, just simple moments like this.

—

several weeks later…

f1gossipgirls

1,400,000 likes.

f1gossipgirls : spotted in the paddock today— yn leclerc hanging out with big brother charles and sister in law alexandra saint mleux. the trio looked super close and totally glowing ❤️‍🔥✨

— The morning sun streams into the Ferrari garage, casting long beams of light across the polished concrete floor. The hum of activity buzzes around you — mechanics bustling, engineers poring over screens, and the unmistakable scent of high-octane fuel filling the air. You smile to yourself, heart pounding with excitement. It’s been weeks since you’ve been here, away on the road, and today you’re ready to shake things up.

Slipping quietly past the security checkpoint, you make your way toward the heart of the garage, where Alexandra, Arthur, and Charles are gathered, deep in discussion about god only knows what. Their backs are turned, and they’re completely absorbed, the kind of intense focus that only a race weekend can bring. Perfect.

You clear your throat softly — once, twice — but still nothing. On the third try, you let out a playful, “Hey!”

Charles spins around first, eyes wide and disbelief written all over his face. “YN?!”

Before he can react further, Alexandra and Arthur turn, their expressions melting from concentration to utter surprise and then pure joy.

“You’re here!” Alexandra beams, gently setting Leo down and rushing toward you.

Arthur grins so wide it looks like his face might split in two. “YOU LIED. You told me you were in California last night!” 

You laugh, feeling your nerves dissolve as you’re pulled into a tight group hug. Alexandra squeezes your hand, her eyes shining. “We missed you so much. It hasn’t been the same.” 

Charles wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “Seriously, you just made my day — no, my whole weekend.”

Arthur’s already pulling out his phone, fingers flying to capture the moment. “Wait, hold still! This is pure gold.”

Alexandra laughs, shaking her head with a smile that’s equal parts relief and joy. “I can’t believe you actually showed up. We thought you’d be stuck on the road forever.”

You grin, wrapping an arm around Alexandra’s shoulders. “I had to surprise you all. You’ve been way too quiet without me.”

Charles nudges you playfully. “Quiet? We’ve been trying to survive without you, but it’s been a struggle.”

Arthur’s eyes twinkle mischievously. “Glad you’re back so the paddock is now a lot more interesting.”  —

You can barely contain your excitement as you quietly slip into the Haas garage, the familiar hum of engines and chatter wrapping around you like an old friend. Though you’ve kept in touch, nothing beats the thrill of showing up in person and catching him completely off guard.

You spot him almost immediately — bent over his Haas car, focused and determined, headphones in, oblivious to everything. His racing suit is slightly tousled from the track, and his hair is just the way you love it.

Quiet as a whisper, you tiptoe closer, trying to keep your grin in check. You clear your throat softly. He jolts upright, yanking his headphones off, eyes wide with surprise.

“YN?!” His voice is a mix of disbelief and pure joy.

You laugh, holding out your arms. “Miss me?”

Without hesitation, he drops everything and pulls you into a tight, warm hug. You feel the steady beat of his heart against yours and breathe in that familiar scent.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” he murmurs against your hair, voice thick with emotion.

You pull back just enough to look into his eyes, your smile soft and full of affection. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

He grins, the kind of grin that reaches his eyes and makes your heart flutter. “You’re the best surprise ever.”

You stay wrapped in each other’s arms for a long moment, the noise of the paddock fading away until it’s just the two of you.

Finally, Ollie steps back slightly, brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “Come on, I want to show you everything. The car, the setup, the madness of race day.”

You nod, hand slipping into his as you follow him deeper into the garage, feeling lighter and happier than you have in weeks.

Everywhere you look, Ollie’s enthusiasm and passion shine through, but what fills your heart the most is the way he looks at you — like you’re the only person who matters.

—

After the whirlwind of hugs, laughter, and catching up in the bustling garage, Ollie leans close and whispers, “Come on — I’ve got a better idea than standing here with everyone watching.”

You raise an eyebrow, curious and excited. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

He grins mischievously. “A little escape. Just you and me. No noise, no crowds.”

You nod eagerly, heart fluttering. Ollie grabs your hand, leading you through the maze of trailers and equipment with practiced ease. The sounds of the paddock grow fainter behind you, replaced by the soft rustle of palm trees swaying in the breeze and the distant crash of waves.

Finally, he stops at a small, secluded spot behind the paddock — a quiet garden tucked between the fences, where sunlight filters through leafy branches and the air smells sweet with jasmine.

Ollie pulls you into a gentle hug, the warmth of his body grounding you. “I’ve missed this,” he murmurs, voice low and full of feeling. “Just being with you, away from everything.”

You tilt your head up to meet his gaze, the world narrowing down to his deep, earnest eyes. “Me too.”

He brushes a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your cheek. “You’re the calm in all this chaos.”

You smile softly, reaching up to lace your fingers with his. “And you’re my home.”

For a long moment, you just stand there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the quiet intimacy wrapping around you like a warm blanket.

Then, without a word, Ollie leans in and kisses you — slow, tender, and full of everything you’ve both been holding back.

When you finally part, the smile on his lips matches the one lighting up your heart.

“Ready to go back?” he asks, though neither of you wants to leave this perfect moment behind.

You squeeze his hand. “Whenever you are.”

Together, you head back to the paddock, feeling lighter, stronger, and more connected than ever — knowing that no matter where the chaos takes you, you’ll always have this — and each other.

—

The checkered flag waves, and the crowd roars as Ollie crosses the finish line in P5 — his best Formula 1 finish yet. His heart is pounding, adrenaline still rushing, but all he can think about is finding you.

Without hesitation, Ollie climbs out of his car and pushes through the swarm of team members, photographers, and engineers. His eyes scan the crowd, and then he spots you near the pit wall, your face lighting up with pride.

He doesn’t hesitate — his legs carry him fast, and before you know it, he’s in your arms, kissing you with the fierce joy of someone who’s just conquered the world.

Your arms wrap around him, fingers tangling in his hair, as the world around you blurs into blissful silence. But suddenly, footsteps thunder toward you both — loud, urgent, impossible to ignore

Charles has just finished his race in P3. He’s climbing out of his car, his expression a mix of exhilaration and relief. The moment he spots you and Ollie, his smile spreads wide, and he breaks into a run.

Before Ollie can fully process it, Charles throws himself into the two of you, engulfing you both in a massive, warm group hug that nearly knocks you off your feet.

“Ollie! What a race!” Charles beams, laughing as he squeezes you both tightly.

Ollie grins, slightly breathless, but clearly delighted — though your tender moment has been hilariously interrupted. Almost immediately, Arthur and Alexandra come bounding over, grinning ear to ear.

Arthur claps Ollie on the back and then wraps an arm around your shoulders. “That’s some serious progress, Ollie. Well deserved.”

The five of you quickly form a cheerful, chaotic cluster of hugs, laughter, and congratulations, the noise swelling as mechanics and team members gather around, caught up in the infectious joy.

You can’t help but laugh, caught in the middle of it all — Ollie’s still holding you close, Charles is practically bouncing with excitement, Alexandra’s eyes shine bright, and Arthur is already pulling out his phone to capture the madness.

Somewhere in the midst of the chaos, Ollie squeezes your hand gently. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”

You smile up at him, heart bursting. “We did it together.”

The paddock buzzes around you — a perfect cacophony of love, support, and celebration — and though your quiet moment was interrupted, it’s replaced by something even better: the joy of family, friendship, and shared triumph.

—

olliebearman

liked by yn_leclerc, kimi.antonelli, charles_leclerc and 3,000,000 others. 

olliebearman : finally found my forever home<3 love you my darling 🤍

tagged : yn_leclerc 

—

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charles_leclerc : probably the only man on the grid id trust with my sister 

liked by olliebearman and yn_leclerc 

arthur_leclerc : BARFFFF get a ROOM. or wait NO DON’T

liked by olliebearman and yn_leclerc 

alexandrasaintmleux : the cutest babies 🥹

liked by olliebearman and yn_leclerc 

tatemcrae : take care of my girl 💓

liked by olliebearman and yn_leclerc 

kimi.antonelli : FUCKING FINALLY

liked by olliebearman and yn_leclerc

You’d been there since Ollie was the kid with skinned knees and a secondhand kart that coughed out more smoke than speed. The two of you grew up side by side, every test session, every heartbreak, every ridiculous inside joke stitched your lives tighter.

He was the one who once duct-taped his gloves together and swore he’d win a championship anyway.

You were the one who sat on the pit wall and believed him.

When Ollie finally clawed his way to Formula 1 with Haas, the world freaked out. For you, though, it was just… Tuesday. He was still the idiot who FaceTimed you at 2 AM because “mate, pasta shouldn’t look like soup, right?” Still the one who shoved his too-big helmet on your head and laughed until he cried.

The world saw a rising star; you still saw your best friend.

Nothing had changed.

Except one thing.

Ollie had started looking at you differently. Not that you noticed. You were too used to “just us” to see it. But he noticed Kimi Antonelli noticing you. And that? That was a problem.

Fast-forward: sweaty Saturday night, post–Canadian GP. Kimi had just scored his first Mercedes podium and half the grid poured into a neon-lit club to celebrate. Drivers danced, drank, pretended dawn training didn’t exist.

You were leaning against the bar, head thrown back laughing, when Kimi slid up next to you, eighteen, tall, infuriatingly charming in that smug Italian way. “Did you enjoy the race?” he asked, like he already knew the answer. “Yeah. Congrats. First podium, huh? Bet that feels good.” “It’d feel even better if you celebrated with me,” Kimi murmured, leaning closer.

His fingers brushed yours, light, calculated, enough to make you question if it was real.

Ollie saw red.

Literally.

The club lights hit his jawline, clenched so tight you thought it might crack. His drink sat untouched. His eyes, though, burned holes into Kimi’s hand near yours.

That’s my best friend.

Mine.

He lasted maybe five more minutes before he stalked over and muttered something about getting you home. Confused but obliging, you let him tug you out of the club, a storm cloud in a hoodie.

The car ride back to his flat was silent, tense. Ollie’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel. When you got inside, you finally turned to him.

“Okay, what the hell was that? You basically dragged me out like a parent at prom.”

He snapped.

“He was flirting with you!”

“Yeah? So?” You crossed your arms. “He’s allowed. I’m allowed.”

Ollie shoved a hand through his hair, pacing like a caged thing, his accent sharpening under stress.

“Not him. Not anyone. I can’t just sit there and watch some guy try and take you like you’re—like you’re not already—fuck!” He groaned, leaning back against the wall.

“Not already what?” you asked quietly.

His eyes met yours, raw and fierce.

“Mine.”

The word detonated in the air. Your heartbeat took off like a race start.

“I’ve been your best mate forever,” he said, softer now. “I thought I could live with that. But I can’t. Every time someone looks at you like that, I want to tear the world apart. I want it to be me. I want you.”

You stepped closer, slow, like you were approaching a wild animal. His hand twitched at his side but he stayed frozen, terrified you’d run. Instead, you cupped his cheek.

“You’re an idiot,” you whispered.

He flinched. “Yeah, I shoul—”

You shut him up with a kiss.

He froze for half a second, then his hands found your waist, gripping like he’d been waiting years. Every lap of friendship, every secret, every night spent in each other’s corners, it all burned through that kiss.

When you finally pulled back, both breathless, you smirked.

“So… still jealous of Kimi?”

Ollie groaned, burying his face in your neck. “Don’t even say his name right now.”

You laughed, tugging him closer. “Relax, Bearman. You’ve got pole position here.”

And for once, Ollie wasn’t thinking about racing. He was thinking about you. Always you.

alexandrasaintmleux love you bby

ynleclerc mwahh

scuderiaferrari our favourite couple and third wheel

yourbff miss u queen

ynleclerc ughh missu too love

user1 aww alex and charles are so cute

user2 she’s only famous bc of her brothers 😂

olliebearman you look cold

ynleclerc come warm me up then ?

olliebearman whatever you want beautiful

charles_leclerc ?

user3 OLLIE’S COMMENT HELLO????!!

user4 and charles’ response LMAO

user5 need… ynollie… now…

olliebearman

Liked by charles_leclerc, ynleclerc, oscarpiastri, kimi.antonelli and others

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ynleclerc my fyp when im hungry.. 🫦

olliebearman 👀

charles_leclerc I am talking your phone.

kimi.antonelli 🔥🔥🔥

user6 YNOLLIE!!!!!!

charles_leclerc what the hell is that.

user6 IM GONNA DIE

user7 this y/n girl needs to back off she’s so weird

user8 he won’t notice you don’t worry

user9 can y/n fight

user10 they’re not together lmao they’re just joking around… they’ve been like this forever

olliebearman posted a story !

replies

user11 noooooooo ynollie is over 💔💔

kimi.antonelli is that who i think it is 😏

olliebearman maybe…

charles_leclerc Good. Now you’ll stop being gross with my sister

user12 that should be me holding your hand… that should be me making you laugh

ynleclerc

Liked by olliebearman, kimi.antonelli, alexandrasaintmleux and others

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alexandrasaintmleux cute 🩷🤍

ynleclerc je t’ adore

yourbff GIRL

user13 SOFT LAUNCHHHH

user14 ynollie nation… i fear we are screwed

user15 it’s THEIR lives you dont know these people

user16 it’s official.. no more ynollie

charles_leclerc WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN

charles_leclerc i guess im glad it’s not ollie since you are both taken now

charles_leclerc wait a damn minute…

olliebearman

Tagged: ynleclerc

Liked by ynleclerc, kimi.antonelli, babickovaeli, estebanocon and others

olliebearman well well… i am going to be murdered by my PR team and her brothers #worthit #amanwhoyearnsisamanwhoearns

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ynlecerc ewwwwwwww you’re so cheesy

ollliebearman you love it

ynleclerc i do 😕

arthur_leclerc how do i dislike a post

kimi.antonelli FINALLYYY

charles_leclerc …

charles_leclerc count your days bearman.

user17 oh we are SO back

haasf1team We’re gonna let it slide

user18 i used to be a hater but 🥹

user19 YNOLLIE IS REAL

alexandrasaintmleux my favourites 💕💕

charles_leclerc YOU KNEW!??

ynleclerc 😘

user20 just a reminder HE posted this 🤭

Ollie and you have always been best friends.

Ever since you were assigned the seat right next to him in first grade, the two of you were inseparable. Sharing lunch boxes and gossip, copying homework and the answers of your tests. Hanging out every day after school, and hanging out even more on the weekends.

Ollie was the one person who you never doubted was worth your trust, as he proved to you time and time again that he would always keep your secrets safe. Even the darkest, most hidden secrets you would never dare tell anyone else.

You were the first person he told about his F1 seat. He was the first person you told about not feeling like yourself anymore, sometime in eighth grade.

You stayed with him through all the highs and lows of his career, from cold rainy days at karting tracks to facetime calls deep into the night from different corners of the world.

He stayed with you when you finally found a therapist that actually listened and diagnosed you with depression, never once resenting you for not wanting to text, or socialize, or do anything but lying in your room with the blinds closed.

You never once judged him when he was behaving like a totally different person for random girls he met in Monaco bars, trying to impress them.

He never once judged you when the thoughts inside your head got so bad you couldn’t even take care of yourself anymore.

From the first time you fell in love and actually kissed someone – and the first heartbreak that followed right after – to every little insignificant thing in your lives, the other was always the person you went to first.

Which is probably why you’re sprawled out on his couch right now, legs thrown over the arm rest like you’ve done countless of times before.

An hour after your boyfriend broke up with you.

Well, ex-boyfriend, you suppose.

“So, what, he just sent you a text saying “I’m breaking up with you”, and that’s it?” Ollie asks, disbelieving, sitting on the arm chair across from you with a plate of pasta in his lap.

You laugh, but it tastes bitter on your tongue. Ollie seems to notice, as always. His brows furrow, like he knows there’s more to it, something yet unspoken.

He doesn’t push, just watches you. Waits until you’re ready. Or not, it’s up to you, always. If you want to tell him, and how much.

But it’s Ollie, after all.

The guy you pulled aside in seventh grade, age thirteen, to tell him you got your first period, if only for the way his twisted up face got a laugh out of you.

Ollie, who you pulled aside in the same corner two years later to tell him about Patrick from your spanish class “accidentally” touching your boob on your ice cream date.

“I mean, it’s not like that. It’s kind of my fault, actually,” you tell him, immediately shushing him when he tries to protest. Trying to take your side. “No, actually, Ollie.”

His eyes scan your face. Probably trying to find the hint of insecurity and lack of self conciousness that’s making you say this, and then his eyebrows shoot up when he doesn’t find anything like it.

“Did you…” A pause. A deep breath. “Did you do something?”

You laugh, but it comes out brittle. Full of the hurt you don’t want to show him despite never hiding away from him. “It’s more about what I didn’t do, I guess?”

He tilts his head, not saying anything, just prompting you to explain.

The stutter that leaves your mouth causes a light pink flush to spread across your cheeks. You can feel the tips of your ears burning under his curious gaze. “Uh–“

“Oh my god, did you do something freaky? Some kink he didn’t like without discussing it first?” Ollie yells, way too loud for the thin walls of his apartment.

You shrink down in your seat, slumping with your chin almost hitting your chest. You close your eyes and sigh, defeated.

“He couldn’t make me come,” you mumble.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that. What?”

“He couldn’t make me come, okay!”

You regret the words as soon as they leave your mouth. Your whole body’s burning with the embarrassment now, neck and ears so hot you can feel them tingling.

Ollie stills across from you, spoonful of pasta halfway to his mouth now hanging in the air, breath caught in his chest and completely silent. Your eyes flick over to him for a fraction of a second, just a peek out of the corner of your eye.

His whole body has gone rigid, posture stiff and his own cheeks tinted a light pink.

You sit back up, straighter now than the whole evening, your body tense. “It’s just– I don’t know if you know, but antidepressants can cause issues. With that. Like, er– It just takes a long time. Until I can. Come. Yeah.”

The silence stretches into something uncomfortable, the clock ticking by the fridge sounding like the world is counting the seconds you have left on this earth, until you die from shame. Taunting. Never ending.

Tick.

You cover your face with your hands, as if maybe you’re not actually here if he can’t look you into the eyes anymore.

Tick.

When his voice comes again, it’s free of any judgment. Neutral. “I didn’t know that, actually.”

“It’s just,” You pause. The awkward silence stretches, fills the empty spaces of Ollie’s apartment. At this point you can’t even look him into the eyes anymore.

You face him anyway, because that’s just who you are. With him, at least. Always yourself, never shying away, not even when you want the ground to open up and swallow you whole.

“It takes a really long time, uh, until I get there. Guess he got tired and frustrated.”

“What a dick,” Ollie mumbles, more to himself.

You snort. “Can’t really blame him. Must be a hit to his ego when he can’t make his girlfriend come after thirty minutes.”

“Maybe he just didn’t try hard enough,” he says, the tone of his voice dark and unfamiliar. Final, like it’s the only explanation. “Most women take longer, don’t they? God, bet he was the kind of guy who came after five minutes.”

You stay silent, biting your lip.

Ollie’s laughter explodes through the room. “Oh my god, he actually was, wasn’t he?”

“I’m not going to answer that. I’d only embarrass myself further,” you tell him, but your lips twitch, fighting to lift into a smile.

He’s clutching his stomach now, laughter fading. “Why would you embarass yourself?“

“Because who puts up with fuckass guys like that, seriously. Almost comes into his boxers and then he can’t even return the favor. Embarrassing, really.”

Ollie’s eyes soften, then. His laughter dies down completely, but the smile stays on his face. Softer, now. Comforting, but not pitying. Never pitying.

“Only shows the kind of person you are. It’s not all about sex in a relationship, and you liked him. Clearly, he can’t say the same about himself.”

“Not all about sex,” you scoff. “Of course you would say that. Bet you get satisfied plenty.”

It’s his turn to blush now, blood flooding to his cheeks, his collarbone. He huffs out a laugh. “Fuck you.”

“Would you?”

It’s a joke. It is supposed to be a joke. Casual, like always. Lightening the mood and leaving the serious topic behind.

It doesn’t land, though, and feels more like a joke you forgot to tell the actual punchline of.

His eyes snap to yours, frantically watching you with his pupils blown wide. They’re dark, more pupil than iris, and the amusement slips off his face.

The blood rushes inside your ears, so loud you don’t even register the ticking of the clock anymore. Or maybe it’s stopped ticking, like the words made time stand still and the world stop spinning.

You try to save yourself, a sharp laugh escaping you, scratching at your eardrums, but it comes out way too late. Fake. Just on the side of too-much.

You can see him take a shaky breath, whole chest rising and falling, like he’s bracing himself for something.

But then, unexpectedly, the corners of his mouth lift upwards into a grin, eyes glinting with the kind of mischief that reminds you of the time you shared your first – and last – cigarette behind the school building, sometime in tenth grade.

“I mean…” He leaves the sentence unfinished, shrugging his shoulders as if to say why not? It looks casual, cocky even, but you can see the nerves behind the movement – the slight crease in the space between his brows, the twitch of his finger on his thigh.

You laugh again, but this time it’s filled with disbelief. It sounds shrill and panicked inside your own ears, and your heart thumps against your ribcage with maddening speed.

Your breaths come a little uneven, but you try to play it cool, rolling your eyes. “You wish, Bearman.”

Ollie doesn’t play along though. Doesn’t let you change the conversation when you’ve had enough. Not this time.

“I’m serious,” he says. Then, one of the rare things you never talked about. Not even when both your moms tried to set you up through all of high school. “Have you never thought about it?”

“No.”

And it’s the truth, really.

Because it’s not something you had to think about.

It was out of the question.

“Why not?” he asks, visibly confused. A slight undertone that almost sounds like hurt.

But that can’t be. He’s your best friend. Someone you never even considered being an option.

“It could ruin our friendship.”

He seems to consider the words. “But it doesn’t have to.”

You stand abruptly, slightly off balance like the words were enough to throw you off your feet. You take a step forward, toward the kitchen and away from him.

Away from his words, and what they mean. The truth they reveal.

You stop dead in your tracks, turning on the spot to face him. “You sound like you actually thought about it before.”

Your name slips past his lips. Quiet, almost pleading. “What if I have?”

And, okay, out of all the things that couldv’e come out of his mouth, those words were the last you expected.

You look at him, really look at him, and the honesty in his eyes makes your breath quicken. There’s no hint of his usual teasing on his face, expression free from the smile that’s reserved for moments where he messes with you just for shits and giggles.

You don’t know what posesses you when you stop trying to move further away from him, instead closing the distance you created between the two of you, stepping forward.

One step at a time, until you’re right in front of him.

He has to look up at you from his seat on the arm chair, mouth slightly open and his eyes full of something you can’t quite decipher. Hunger. Longing, maybe. Whatever it is sends a shiver down your spine, and his eyes follow the way your body reacts to just his gaze on you alone.

“What about your pasta?” you ask dumbly, for lack of better words, completely out of context. A pointless question, really.

He smirks. “Spread your legs and I’ll eat just fine.”

You inhale sharply and choke on your own laughter as he takes his half eaten plate of pasta to put it on the coffee table, and you shove his shoulder playfully, without any heat behind it. It feels natural like this. Like you and Ollie, best friends and nothing more.

But the words still get to you, stomach fluttering and thighs pressing together to will the ache between your legs to go away.

Ollie notices all of it, of course. The smirk stays right where it is when he whispers, “Come here.”

His hands land on the back of your bare thighs, warm calloused fingertips searing into your skin, pulling you closer to him until you stumble, knees hitting the edge of the armchair next to his legs.

You try to balance yourself, hands landing on his shoulders like on instinct. You can feel the heat of him through the thin fabric of his shirt, and all of it feels so fucking surreal yet you can’t will yourself to stop him.

Instead you just follow the guidance of his grip, climbing onto the arm chair, knees on either side of his thighs, straddling his lap.

Your hand finds the back of his neck, fingers tangling into the short hairs at the nape of it. You tilt his head up to make him look at you, and your breath hitches when you come face to face with the hunger inside of his eyes.

“We need some rules, before we do this,” you tell him, voice nothing more than a whisper.

He nods and swallows audibly, palms stroking over your thighs, leaving goosebumps all over your skin.

“Okay, rule number one: we don’t tell anyone about this,” you start. “Number two: We’re not allowed to let this ruin our friendship. Nothing has to change.”

He keeps nodding along to every word you say, silently agreeing. His warm breath ghosts over your lips when he eventually speaks. “Anything else?”

You think for a second, then, “Rule number three: This is a one time thing and won’t happen again.”

“Okay.”

And then his lips are on yours. Just a soft tentative press of his lips against yours, one hand tightening the grip on your thighs, the other one moving up to your neck, thumb resting against your jaw.

Both of you sigh at the same time, and then you’re moving, heads tilting and the kiss deepening, getting messier by the second. The graze of teeth over spit slicked lips, the nip of a bottom lip, you, parting your lips just slightly, him taking the chance and sliding his tongue into your mouth.

He tastes of tomato sauce and something distinctively Ollie, and you press in harder, kissing him deeper and chasing the taste of him with your own tongue.

Your own hands start exploring, parts of him you only ever touched platonically. Nails scratching over his back, the one you only ever clapped in a friendly gesture. Over his ribs, the one’s you only ever poked with your finger to get on his last nerve.

Softly chasing the outlines of his chest, every ridge of his abs you only ever teased him about never getting.

Your whole body burns with the anticipation, with the thrill of living such a fantasy. You’re about to hook up with your best friend, for God’s sake.

—

You’re still breathless ten minutes later, body exhausted but relaxing into the soft mattress, spent. And still you have never felt better.

There’s a dull pulsing left behind between your legs, and you bite your lip to keep from smiling too hard as the last remains of pleasure ripple through your body.

Ollie made sure of his promise, eating you out until your legs shook, and you could still taste yourself on your tongue from his kiss afterwards.

Obviously, despite the pleasure you felt during, it still took a long time before you finally came, pleasure crashing over you so hard your whole body shook, muscles tensing.

But Ollie talked you through it. Patient. Reassuring words that had no business coming across so filthy.

“Doing so good for me, almost there,” while he was sliding inside of you easily, pussy stretched by multiple of his fingers and wet from his tongue flicking over your most sensitive spot.

“You’re gonna come all over my cock?” while he quickened his pace, hips snapping so hard the sounds of wet slapping filled the air.

“That’s it, come on, fuck,” while you were clenching around him, his name escaping your lips in a high pitched whine, your legs wrapped around his hips shaking while you came for the first time in months.

Your own name moaned into your ear, hot breath ghosting over your skin as he spilled inside of you, warm cum leaking out of you as he fucks into you still, over and over again.

—

You never tell anyone about it, a well kept secret just for you and him.

And it’s easy between the two of you, afterwards.

Not like nothing ever happened, but like it simply didn’t change a thing about your friendship.

Which is good, great even. Because it means you at least stayed true to two of the rules you set that night.

Rule number three, however, is an entirely different thing.

bearmansradio

Liked by haasf1team, kimi.antonelli, yourusername, and 3,727,364 others

bearmansradio Ollie’s radio during the GP today, the first time he mentioned girlfriend Y/N after the couple made their relationship public a month ago. ❤️

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username ok but like going by the reaction probably not the first time he chewed ronan’s ear off about it 😂

username fr the way ronan kindly!!! asked him if he could manage to shut up about her for 20 laps

username and he’s such a simp he can’t do such thing lmaooo

username OLLIE HAS A GIRLFRIEND NOW WHAT

username Uhm not “now”, they’ve been together for like 2 years, it’s just that no one knew

username alexa play that should be me by justin bieber

username ^ real

olliebearman I tried 😔

yourusername And we’re very proud of you for that 🫶🏻

bearmansradio

Liked by haasf1team, charles_leclerc, and 4,829,774 others

bearmansradio Ollie finishes the Monza GP in P3, receiving his first ever trophy on the podium and… a pizza? 🍕🏁

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username Lmaooo the fact he didn’t want to be better for the sake of being better BUT to get a fucking pizza

username god my love for this man is unhealthy

username same 💔 Y/N is a lucky woman

olliebearman A pizza margarita, please! @/yourusername

yourusername Yk what I’m not complaining, you deserve it ❤️

username Went from private relationship to virtually making out in a public comment section real quick

username lmaoo i’m weak

bearmansradio

Liked by olliebearman, yourusername, scuderiaferrari, and 4,949,221 others

bearmansradio Ollie’s radio during the second free practice session in Spain. 🇪🇸 Wrong language, Ollie, but we get your sentiment.

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username not him whistling at her 🤣🤣

username i feel like ronan is so chill with ollie like?? he just lets him do shit like that

username RIGHT, and not only that, he encourages it by telling him he’s passing her 😭😭😭

username i feel like they’re way nicer to the rookies in general but then again Ollie looks like a baby still, how can you be anything other than nice

yourusername @/olliebearman Lol baby

olliebearman Goo goo ga ga

kimi.antonelli fucking weirdo

username god he’s so cute i love him sm

bearmansradio

Liked by haasf1team, maxverstappen1, yourusername, olliebearman, and 5,838,644 others

bearmansradio Two podiums in a row, and this time it’s P2! Go get your girl, Ollie!!

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username did you see how he ignored the team to go hug & kiss her first?? 😭

username my babies 🥹🥹

username grown adults btw

username you guys gotta stop babying them istg it’s ridiculous

maxverstappen1 Well done, mate !! 💪

username lmao proud rookie dad

username i wonder if he approves of his daughter in law??

olliebearman He does!

username OMG LMAOO you weren’t meant to see this

yourusername My man ❤️

username He’s not your man, you aren’t married 😒

yourusername Yet 😏

kimi.antonelli Gagged her

bearmansradio

Liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, and 4,882,112 others

bearmansradio Ronan & Ollie dreamteam. Please never seperate these two, we’re begging you Haas. 🙏🏻🙏🏻

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username Iris as THEIR song?? That’s it, they’re forever

username it’s the fact Ronan just did it no questions asked 😭😭😭

username bet DJ’ing wasn’t on Ronan’s goals when he studied engineering

username babying a 19 y/o in general probably wasn’t

yourusername What a sap

olliebearman Only for you tho ❤️

yourusername Only proving my point, baby

maxverstappen1 Oh for fucks sake, get a room!

—

Other drivers: Radio Check | Masterlist

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! (For a particular driver or every version is up to you!)

recent comments

username00 : omg i miss them sm

↳ username75 : ikr they were endgame for me. so cute.

↳ username57 : what did i miss? did her and ollie date?

↳ username00 : they had been best friends since they were like 5 and they started dating around age 12ish and they split right after ollie started w the ferrari junior team bc he was so busy and she had graduated early and was starting uni.

↳ username57 : are either of them seeing each other currently???

↳ username00 : i don't believe so :)

username001 : i come back to this post everyday.

↳ username100 : ikr im so glad she never deleted and ollie never deleted his comment.

username77 : guys!!! check twitter now!!!!

older comments

olliebearman : my girl <3 miss you always

liked by yourusername

↳ yourusername : miss you the most

liked by olliebearman

yoursister : the way you two make me sick (ily both)

liked by yourusername and olliebearman

↳ yourusername : we know we are your fave coupleeeee

liked by yoursister and olliebearman

username00 : can we get a tutorial on how to get a man like ollie? asking for a friend

liked by yourusername

↳ yourusername : not sure that i can do that. he is one of a kind <3

liked by olliebearman and username00

yourfriend : you are insanely beautiful

liked by yourusername and olliebearman

↳ olliebearman : agreed

liked by yourusername and yourfriend

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🦢˚. ᵎᵎ .𖥔 ݁ ˖🦢˚. ᵎᵎ

flashback

You remember the night vividly, like it’s pressed into your memory with the sharpness of something that mattered too much to ever blur.

Ollie showed up at your place in the middle of the evening, hair messy from the wind, cheeks flushed, eyes wide with something you couldn’t place at first. He had that boyish grin—the one he only pulled out when he was buzzing with excitement. You barely had time to ask what was going on before he blurted it out.

"I’m a Ferrari junior driver.”

Your heart nearly burst in your chest. The words hit you like sunlight breaking through clouds, and suddenly you were on your feet, throwing your arms around his neck. He lifted you off the ground, spinning you once, laughter bubbling out of both of you. It was pure joy, unfiltered and unrestrained.

“I knew it! I knew you’d do it,” you said, still clinging to him even after he set you back down. “Ollie, this is huge. This is everything you’ve been working for.”

He nodded, his grin still plastered across his face, dimples showing, eyes shining like you’d never seen them before. “It feels unreal. I’ve wanted this for so long, and it’s finally happening. I get to train in Maranello. Proper facilities, proper program. It’s the chance of a lifetime.”

You cupped his face in your hands, pressing a kiss to his cheek, then another, until he caught your lips in a quick, grateful kiss of his own. “I’m so proud of you,” you whispered against him. “I’m so, so proud.”

And you were. You felt it down to your bones. But pride has a way of twisting into something heavier when reality catches up.

You sank onto the edge of your bed, tugging him down with you, your hand still tangled in his. “It’s just… you’re going to be so busy now,” you admitted quietly, looking down at your intertwined fingers. "I'm about to start uni, and now you’ll be in Italy half the year. We’re going to be miles apart, with totally different lives. What if it’s too much?”

For a moment, the brightness in his expression softened. He squeezed your hand, leaning close so his forehead rested gently against yours. “Hey,” he said softly, voice steady in a way that made your chest ache. “We’ve always known this was where it was heading. Racing was never going to keep me close forever. But listen to me—this doesn’t change how I feel about you. Not one bit.”

You swallowed hard, blinking up at him. “But long distance…”

“I’ll make it work,” Ollie interrupted, brushing his thumb over the back of your hand. “We’ll make it work. Calls, visits whenever I can, you flying out on breaks… it won’t be the same, I know. But you’ve been with me since before any of this, since it was just a dream. I can’t imagine doing it without you.”

There was such conviction in his voice that you almost believed nothing could break through it. Almost.

You wanted to say more—to confess how scared you were of losing him to the world he’d been chasing since he was a young boy—but then he kissed you again, slow and certain, like he was sealing a promise neither of you could quite name.

“We’ll be okay,” he murmured, pulling you into his chest. “I’ll never stop making time for us. It’s you and me. Always.”

You let yourself believe him, at least for that night. Because he looked so happy, so sure, and all you could do was hold onto him and hope the universe would let you keep what you had.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🦢˚. ᵎᵎ .𖥔 ݁ ˖🦢˚. ᵎᵎ

The flowers had wilted days ago, but you couldn’t bring yourself to throw them out. They sat on the corner of your kitchen counter, the once-bright bouquet Ollie had sent you the first week he left for Italy. The petals were curled inward now, edges tinged brown, the fragrance long gone. You stood there staring at them, arms crossed over your chest, phone heavy in your hand.

You’d told yourself you were just busy. That the missed calls, the texts left on read, the time differences and the exhaustion would even out once you both found a rhythm. But three weeks in, and you already knew. You knew what had to be done.

You dialed his number before you could stop yourself, heart pounding against your ribs. It only rang once before he picked up.

“Love?” His voice was warm, tired, and something in you cracked right then. “You’re awake. I was just about to text you.”

Hearing him call you that made it ten times harder. You shut your eyes and leaned against the counter. “Hey,” you whispered. “How was your day?”

He sighed, and you could hear the smile in his voice. “Long. Really long. Training, meetings, language lessons—I barely sat down. But it’s good. It’s… everything I wanted it to be. I just wish you were here to see it.”

Your throat tightened. You pictured him in some hotel room, hair damp from a late shower, Ferrari polo tossed on a chair, the spark in his eyes you loved so much still glowing even though he was exhausted. And that’s exactly why you couldn’t hold onto him.

“Ollie,” you started, your voice already wobbling. “I need to talk to you about something.”

He paused. You could hear the shift in his tone immediately. “What is it?”

You pressed your thumb into the edge of the counter until it hurt, forcing the words out. “I think… I think we need to let this go.”

There was silence on the other end. Not angry silence. Just stunned, heavy silence.

“Ollie, you’re so busy already,” you continued, rushing before you lost the nerve. “You barely have time to sleep, let alone worry about me. And I’m starting uni, and it’s—it’s a lot. I don’t want us to drag this out and hurt each other. I don’t want you to feel guilty every time you can’t call, and I don’t want to sit here wondering when you’ll have a free minute.”

Finally, his voice came through, quiet and careful. “So you’re saying we should break up.”

Tears burned your eyes. “I don’t want to. You know I don’t. But I think it’s the only way to be fair to both of us. You deserve to put all of yourself into this, Ollie. Into racing. This is your dream.”

The sound of him breathing, shaky and uneven, made your chest ache. “But you’re my dream too,” he whispered.

Your heart split clean in two.

“I’ll always love you,” he said, his words thick and earnest, like they were carved straight out of him. “That doesn’t change, no matter how far away I am or how much time passes. You’ll always be the first person who believed in me. Who… who made me feel like I could do this.”

You pressed your hand to your mouth, muffling the sob that threatened to escape. “And I’ll always love you,” you whispered back. “That’s why I have to let you go.”

There was another long silence, but this one felt different—like two people holding onto each other as tightly as they could before finally loosening their grip.

When Ollie spoke again, his voice was steady but soft, almost reverent. “Promise me one thing?”

“What?”

“Promise me you’ll be happy. In whatever way you can. That you’ll live your life and not wait around for me.”

Your tears finally spilled over, streaking hot down your cheeks. “I promise.”

“Good,” he said quietly. “Because if anyone deserves that, it’s you.”

You sat there with the phone pressed to your ear, neither of you ready to hang up, even though you both knew the moment had already passed.

The flowers sat between you and the silence, their petals crumbling slowly, as if they too understood what was ending.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🦢˚. ᵎᵎ .𖥔 ݁ ˖🦢˚. ᵎᵎ

present day

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🦢˚. ᵎᵎ .𖥔 ݁ ˖🦢˚. ᵎᵎ

You’d been refreshing your email every ten minutes for the past two days, waiting for a response you half-believed would never come. PR jobs in Formula 1 were competitive enough, and you knew applying for a rookie’s press assistant role meant you were up against a flood of other candidates who were probably more qualified, more polished, more everything.

But then, there it was. The subject line that made your heart stutter:

“Offer of Employment – Haas F1 Team”

Your hand flew to your mouth as you opened it, eyes scanning the words once, twice, three times just to be sure. They wanted you. You’d gotten the job.

You laughed out loud, giddy and overwhelmed, spinning in your desk chair before grabbing your phone to call your sister.

“I got it!” you nearly yelled the moment she picked up.

“What?” she asked, startled.

“The job. The PR assistant job I told you about. I start next week!”

You could hear her clapping on the other end. “No way. That’s amazing! See? I told you they’d love you. Who are you working with?”

You glanced back at the email, scrolling to the line that listed your assignment. Press Assistant to Driver Oliver Bearman.

You froze.

Oliver. Bearman.

Your heart thumped painfully in your chest, the sound suddenly loud in your ears. No. No, it couldn’t be. There had to be more than one. But your gut knew before your brain caught up. You blinked at the screen, rereading it over and over.

“YN?” your sister’s voice came through, cautious now. “Who is it?”

You swallowed hard, gripping your phone so tightly your knuckles went white. “Ollie.”

There was a beat of silence before she gasped. “No. No way. Not that Ollie?”

You groaned, pressing your forehead into your hand. “Yes. That Ollie. They hired me to be his PR assistant. Oh my god, this cannot be happening.”

Her laughter filled the line, loud and uncontrollable. “This is—this is the best thing I’ve ever heard. The universe has a sick sense of humor.”

“It’s not funny,” you snapped, though your lips were tugging upward despite yourself. “I haven’t spoken to him in years. We broke up so he could focus on racing, and now I’m supposed to… what? Write his media statements and make sure he doesn’t put his foot in his mouth? This is insane.”

“It’s poetic,” she corrected, still laughing. “Full circle. The girl who used to help him with school speeches is now his press secretary. You can’t make this up.”

You sat back in your chair, heart racing, brain spinning. She was right—it was poetic. Too poetic. And terrifying. You thought back to the night you’d let him go, to the ache in his voice when he told you he’d always love you. You’d buried that part of your life under time and distance. And now, here it was again, alive and waiting for you at the starting line of a new season.

“What if it’s awkward?” you asked, voice small.

Your sister softened, her tone gentler now. “It will be, at first. But you’re good at your job. And you cared about him. Those two things aren’t mutually exclusive. You’ll handle it.”

You nodded, chewing your lip as your eyes lingered on his name in the email. Oliver Bearman. The boy who once sent you flowers, who held your hand on ferris wheels, who whispered that he’d always love you.

Now he was the man whose image you were being paid to protect.

And whether you liked it or not, your paths had circled back to each other.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🦢˚. ᵎᵎ .𖥔 ݁ ˖🦢˚. ᵎᵎ

You’d spent the whole morning rehearsing in your head. Smile, shake hands, keep it professional. You’d even stood in front of your mirror practicing how to say, “Hi, Ollie, nice to see you again” without sounding like your voice was going to crack in half.

And yet, nothing could’ve prepared you for actually walking into the media office on your first day.

The paddock buzzed with energy, mechanics and engineers rushing past, journalists already hovering in corners, the air thick with the hum of engines being tested in the garages. You clutched your lanyard like it was a lifeline as someone from Haas PR led you toward the smaller meeting room at the end of the hall.

“He should be in here,” your new supervisor said casually, like she wasn’t about to throw you into a situation that had been haunting your chest all week. “You’ll be shadowing him for all media responsibilities. Just start with introductions and go from there.”

Your stomach twisted. Introductions. As if you didn’t already know him better than you knew yourself, once upon a time.

The door creaked open, and there he was.

Ollie Bearman.

Not the boy from your memories, lanky and wide-eyed, but the man who’d grown out of them—taller now, shoulders broader, his hair still a little unruly like it refused to be tamed. He was perched on the edge of a chair, scrolling through something on his phone, his race suit tied around his waist. When he looked up, those same green eyes you’d fallen in love with years ago landed on you.

For a moment, the world just… stopped.

His phone slipped slightly in his hands before he caught it. “YN?” His voice was quiet, almost disbelieving, but threaded with a softness that made your chest ache.

You swallowed hard and forced a smile. “Hi, Ollie. Looks like we’re working together again.”

There was a beat of silence before his lips tugged into that familiar, lopsided grin. “Wow. I—uh. This is… unexpected.” He stood quickly, shoving his phone into his pocket, as if suddenly remembering how to function. “You look… good. Great, actually. Really great.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks, and you glanced down at the notepad in your hands. “Thanks. You too. You’ve, um, grown into the whole F1 driver thing.”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck in that same nervous habit you remembered from years ago. “Trying my best. But, wow… you’re really here. My PR assistant.” He shook his head in disbelief, eyes flicking over you like he was still trying to convince himself you weren’t a dream.

You cleared your throat, reminding yourself why you were there. “Right. So, first order of business—media training. I’ll help prep you for interviews, make sure your answers are polished, keep you from saying anything that could get you in trouble.”

His grin widened, soft and knowing. “Just like you used to.”

The words hit you square in the chest. You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “Yeah. Guess some things don’t change.”

He tilted his head, eyes never leaving yours. “Some things do.”

The air hung heavy between you, full of unspoken memories and the kind of familiarity that no amount of years could erase. You were both different now, older, with lives that had moved in opposite directions. And yet, standing there in a cramped media room in the middle of a Formula 1 paddock, it felt like no time had passed at all.

Your supervisor popped her head back in, breaking the moment. “Everything good in here?”

You and Ollie both jumped slightly, stepping apart.

“Yeah,” you answered quickly, forcing your voice into something professional. “All good.”

But as your supervisor disappeared down the hall again, you felt Ollie’s gaze linger on you. And when you dared to meet his eyes, he smiled—not the cocky grin he wore for cameras, but the soft, earnest smile that used to be just for you.

“Guess it all circles back, huh?” he said quietly.

Your heart skipped, and for a split second, you forgot how to breathe.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “It does.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🦢˚. ᵎᵎ .𖥔 ݁ ˖🦢˚. ᵎᵎ

f1gossipgirls

1,205,000 likes.

f1gossipgirls : Ollie Bearman and his press secretary (and ex girlfriend), YN LN were spotted in the paddock today and they were all smiles! Talk about a reunion, huh?

—

view 75,000 other comments.

username00 : omg i have longed for this moment.

username55 : he looks so happy to see her im CRYING

username50 : they def deserved their full circle moment. i’m so happy

username15 : i so hope ollie’s mum is there. i want to see her reunion w yn😌😌

username155 : idk why i thought this would be awkward. that boy clearly never lost love for her

username78 : this is the cutest and sweetest thing ever

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🦢˚. ᵎᵎ .𖥔 ݁ ˖🦢˚. ᵎᵎ

The sun was barely up when you followed Ollie into the paddock for his first full day as a Formula 1 driver. He tugged nervously at the sleeve of his Haas polo, but the moment he stepped past the turnstiles, a few photographers already called his name, shutters clicking.

You walked just behind him, iPad in hand, dressed in team uniform—professional enough that most people would assume you were part of his management team rather than his ex-girlfriend. That little fact felt like a secret between you, one that hummed uncomfortably under your skin every time his arm brushed yours.

“Schedule?” Ollie asked quietly, glancing at you as though you were the only steady thing in the chaos around him.

“Media pen at nine, panel at ten,” you replied smoothly. “Then a sponsor shoot, then back to the garage before FP1.”

His lips twitched. “You sound terrifyingly organized.”

You raised a brow. “That’s literally my job.”

Ollie smirked but didn’t push further, and you couldn’t help noticing how often he looked to you for reassurance—like this wasn’t just a job, but something you’d always done for him.

The Sky Sports crew were waiting. Ollie straightened his posture instantly, falling into the polished persona Haas had coached him on, but his fingers fiddled with the hem of his shirt.

“How are you feeling ahead of your rookie debut?” the journalist asked.

“Nervous, but excited,” Ollie said honestly, though his eyes flicked toward you in the corner. “I’ve worked a long time to get here, and I’ve got a great team behind me.”

You scribbled a quick note on your clipboard—smile when saying that—and tilted it just enough for him to catch. He chuckled softly and added, “Yeah, I couldn’t do it without the people supporting me.”

The journalist didn’t notice, but you saw the way his smile reached his eyes that time.

When the interview wrapped, you leaned closer as he stepped off. “Good. A little less rambling than yesterday.”

He groaned playfully. “Always my toughest critic.”

“Someone has to be,” you teased, though your pulse jumped when he gave you that familiar, grateful smile—the one you remembered from karting paddocks years ago.

By ten, you were ushering him into the lounge where three other rookies sat waiting. Kimi Antonelli was hunched over his phone, Isack Hadjar was joking with Gabriel Bortoleto, and the room instantly smelled like too much cologne and energy drinks.

The moment Kimi looked up, his face broke into a grin. “No way. I know you!”

You blinked, caught off guard. “You do?”

“Yeah,” Kimi said, already standing to greet you. “Prema days. You were always at the track with Ollie. You used to carry snacks in your backpack.”

Heat crept up your cheeks as you laughed. “Wow, I can’t believe you remember that.”

“How could I not? You basically babysat us. Always telling Ollie to drink water.”

“God, don’t remind me,” Ollie groaned, covering his face. “She’s still doing it.”

Isack perked up instantly, eyes flicking between the two of you. “Wait, wait, wait—are you the girl?”

You hesitated, lips parting. “Uh—”

“My PR assistant,” Ollie cut in quickly, a little too firmly. “That’s all.”

“Ohhh,” Gabriel drawled, exchanging a look with Isack. “So the rumors were true.”

Your face burned, but Kimi just smirked knowingly at Ollie, who looked like he might combust.

“Okay,” you said briskly, waving your clipboard. “The panel starts in two minutes. Please try to act like professionals for at least half an hour.”

The moderator led the panel, asking questions about nerves, expectations, and how it felt to join the grid.

Kimi was confident but careful. Isack was charming, leaning into humor. Gabriel was laid-back, throwing in jokes at the right time.

Ollie, though, kept glancing at you off to the side. You’d jot down quick prompts—shorter answers, smile, don’t fidget with your collar—and he would adjust mid-sentence, like you were tethering him in real time.

At one point, Isack teased, “I mean, Kimi’s the youngest, but Ollie’s the one with a babysitter.”

The crowd laughed. Ollie stiffened, then his eyes darted to you. You wrote in big bold letters: laugh it off.

He took a breath, then grinned. “To be fair, she’s been bossing me around way before I made it to Formula 1.”

The audience laughed even harder. Your lips curved despite yourself.

By the end, all four rookies were buzzing with camaraderie, trading banter and elbowing each other. But as soon as cameras were off, Ollie drifted back to your side like a magnet.

“You okay?” you asked quietly.

He nodded, exhaling. “Better now.”

Walking back toward Haas hospitality, Ollie’s voice dropped. “Do you realize how weird this is? Having you here again?”

You tilted your head. “Weird bad or weird good?”

He gave you a small, crooked smile. “Weird… comfortable. Like, I’ve been waiting for this my whole life, and you’re still here making sure I don’t screw it up.”

For a second, you forgot about your clipboard, your job, the cameras lurking in every corner. It was just you and Ollie again, like all those years ago.

And though you reminded yourself firmly that you were here as his PR assistant, not his girlfriend—your chest still tightened with something you hadn’t felt in a long time.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🦢˚. ᵎᵎ .𖥔 ݁ ˖🦢˚. ᵎᵎ

The morning’s chaos finally wound down after the rookie panel. You found yourself perched on a low wall in the paddock, flipping through your notes while Ollie sat beside you, stretching his long legs out in front of him. For the first time all day, no cameras or microphones were shoved in his face—just the soft hum of generators and the smell of coffee wafting from hospitality.

“You’re scarily efficient,” Ollie murmured, leaning back on his hands.

You glanced at him, smirking. “Efficient is literally what they hired me for.”

“Yeah, but…” His eyes crinkled as he looked at you. “You don’t just keep me on track—you make me feel like I can breathe.”

Your chest tightened at that, the weight of history in his words pressing down on you. You laughed lightly, trying to shake it off. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It is.” He bumped your shoulder with his, gentle and familiar. “It all circles back, doesn’t it? You used to make sure I said the right thing back then, too.”

You froze for half a second before smiling. “Yeah. Guess some things don’t change.”

There was a silence between you, comfortable and terrifying all at once. You busied yourself with your notes, but you could feel him watching you, like he wanted to say something else but didn’t dare.

A sudden voice cut through the quiet. “YN?!”

You looked up, startled, and there was Terri Bearman striding toward you, wide-eyed and already grinning. She looked just the same—kind eyes, warm smile, and that same motherly energy that had always made you feel welcome.

You barely had time to stand before she was hugging you tightly. “Oh, sweetheart, I can’t believe it! You’re here? With Ollie?”

You laughed into her shoulder. “Hi, Terri. Yeah—it’s a long story.”

Behind her came David, looking just as shocked but smiling. “Well, this is a surprise,” he said warmly, clapping your shoulder in greeting.

And then Thomas and Amelie barreled forward, both taller than you remembered, both looking like they’d just seen their favorite celebrity.

“YN!” Amelie squealed, wrapping her arms around you. “You came back!”

Thomas, trying to act cool but failing, gave you a quick hug too. “This is… actually sick. I didn’t think we’d see you again.”

Your throat tightened as you hugged them back, a rush of nostalgia hitting you so hard it almost knocked the air from your lungs. They weren’t little kids anymore, but they still looked at you with the same wide-eyed affection they always had.

Ollie, standing a few steps back, watched the scene with something soft in his eyes.

“I didn’t know you were going to be here,” Terri said, beaming as she held your hands. “When Ollie said he had a new PR assistant, he forgot to mention this.” She gave her son a pointed look, which made him flush bright red.

“It… didn’t exactly come up,” Ollie muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

Amelie tugged lightly on her own sleeve, bouncing on her toes. “You’re staying all season, right? You’re not going to leave again?”

You smiled and reached out for her. “I’ll be here,” you promised gently. “I’ve got to make sure your brother behaves, after all.”

She giggled, and Thomas smirked. “Good luck with that.”

David chuckled. “Honestly, I think Ollie might actually need you more than the team does.”

The words made Ollie groan, but he didn’t deny it.

After they moved on toward the Haas garage, Ollie lingered at your side. His face was still flushed, but his voice was low, soft.

“They love you,” he said simply. “They never stopped asking about you, you know. Even after…”

Your heart skipped. “Even after we broke up?”

“Yeah.” He glanced at you, his expression vulnerable. “They always hoped they’d see you again. I guess… so did I.”

You opened your mouth, then closed it again, unsure what to say with the weight of his family’s warmth still wrapping around you like a blanket.

So you did what you’d always done: kept it professional. “Come on, Bearman,” you said lightly, nudging him with your elbow. “We’ve got a schedule to stick to.”

But as you walked beside him toward the garage, you couldn’t ignore the flutter in your chest—or the way he kept sneaking glances at you like you were the only familiar thing in this brand-new world of his.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🦢˚. ᵎᵎ .𖥔 ݁ ˖🦢˚. ᵎᵎ

several weeks into the season…

yourusername

liked by olliebearman, kimi.antonelli, flavy.barla and 345,000 others.

yourusername : i love my job, flavy and whoever gave me the bear hat🧸❤️🤍

tagged : kimi.antonelli, olliebearman, thomasbearman1 and flavy.barla

—

view 12,000 other comments.

olliebearman : the hat is mine. it was given to me ‼️‼️

liked by yourusername

↳ yourusername : finders keepers bearboy

liked by olliebearman

flavy.barla : and i love you my girl 🤍

liked by yourusername

↳ yourusername : love you even moreeeee

kimi.antonelli : go ahead and add ollie to that list

liked by olliebearman

↳ yourusername : do you ever stfu

↳ kimi.antonelli : i might…if you guys stop acting like you’re not madly in love w each other

↳ yourusername : kimi!!! you’re gonna get me fired. finger is hovering over the block button

↳ kimi.antonelli : relax. they could never find someone who keeps ollie on track AND makes him sound intelligent. you have endless job security and that man around your finger

liked by yourusername and olliebearman

↳ yourusername : mercedes needs to retrain you

↳ mercedesamgf1 : on it ! 📝

↳ username000 : i can’t with all of them

terribearman : so lovely to see you and the kids together 🥰 we’re so proud of you, yn.

liked by olliebearman and yourusername

↳ yourusername : thank u momma bear 💕💘

liked by terribearman and olliebearman

username005 : ollie holding her heels??? the soft launch is soft LAUNCHING 👀

↳ username74 : guys i totally don’t think they’d get back together. it’s totally unprofessional

↳ isackhadjar : they can do whatever they want. #day1ollieynshipper

liked by olliebearman

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🦢˚. ᵎᵎ .𖥔 ݁ ˖🦢˚. ᵎᵎ

The paddock had been empty for hours, the once-bustling garages now echoing with the occasional metallic clank of someone locking up equipment. You and Ollie were holed up in one of the media rooms, fluorescent lights buzzing softly overhead, laptops and printouts scattered across the table.

You rubbed your temples, glancing at the notes you’d made for him. “Okay, so tomorrow’s interview isn’t the usual pre-race chatter. They’re going to ask about your long-term goals, how you see yourself fitting into the bigger picture. It’s… bigger.”

Ollie leaned back in his chair, hair messy from running his hands through it a hundred times. “Bigger, scarier, you mean.”

You smiled despite yourself. “You’ll be fine. Just remember not to undersell yourself—you have to look ambitious but grounded.”

“Ambitious but grounded,” he repeated, making a face. “That sounds like I’m describing a coffee order.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “You know what I mean. They want confidence, not arrogance.”

He studied you across the table for a moment. “You’ve always known how to translate me.”

Your pen stilled in your hand. His words hit deeper than you expected, dragging up memories of late nights during school, when you’d quiz him before karting interviews, coaching him through answers while he flopped dramatically on your bed. Back then, it hadn’t felt like work—it had felt like part of being his person.

“Old habits die hard,” you said softly, forcing yourself to look back down at your notes.

The room went quiet again, the hum of the lights and the distant sound of a door closing somewhere down the hall the only reminders of the world outside.

After a while, Ollie sat forward, resting his arms on the table. “Can I be honest?”

You glanced up. “Always.”

“I don’t care about the interview. Or the new team, or the noise. The only time I actually feel like I can do this…” His gaze caught yours, steady and unflinching. “…is when you’re here.”

Your throat tightened, and suddenly the air between you felt charged. Dangerous.

You opened your mouth, ready with something safe and professional, but then he was leaning closer, just slightly, enough that your heart stuttered.

“Ollie—”

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t desperate. It was gentle, a brush of lips that carried years of unsaid words, promises, regrets. Your hands trembled where they rested on the table, torn between pulling him closer and pushing him away.

You let yourself sink into it for one stolen second. One breath. One heartbeat.

Then you pulled back like you’d been burned. “No. No, we can’t.”

Ollie blinked, startled. “YN—”

“This is—this is completely unprofessional,” you stammered, standing too quickly, nearly knocking your chair over. “I’m your PR assistant, Ollie. My job is to keep you on track, not—” Your voice cracked. “Not this.”

He stayed seated, watching you with wide, earnest eyes. “I know. I know, and I’m sorry. I just—” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I couldn’t help it. I’ve wanted to do that since the day I saw you walk back into the paddock.”

Your chest ached, but you shook your head, pacing a few steps away. “It can’t happen again. It won’t. I won’t let it.”

For a moment, the silence was unbearable. Then Ollie stood too, careful not to crowd you. His voice was steady, calm in the way it always had been when you were spiraling.

“Okay,” he said quietly. “If you say it won’t happen again, then it won’t.”

You looked up at him, surprised by the lack of protest. But then you caught the flicker in his eyes—the quiet defiance, the unspoken but I know it’s not true.

And maybe you knew it too.

He gave you a small, crooked smile, like he was trying to soften the edges of your panic. “Come on. It’s late. Let’s go before they lock us in.”

You exhaled shakily, forcing yourself to nod, forcing yourself to step back into the role you were supposed to play. But as you followed him out of the empty media room, your lips still tingled with the ghost of his, and the thought you couldn’t chase away was that maybe—just maybe—it was only the beginning.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🦢˚. ᵎᵎ .𖥔 ݁ ˖🦢˚. ᵎᵎ

You hadn’t slept much the night before. Every time you closed your eyes, you felt it again—the press of Ollie’s lips, the warmth of his hand brushing yours, the quiet defiance in his eyes when he’d agreed that it “wouldn’t happen again.”

By morning, you had perfected your mask: professional, calm, collected. You went through media duties with Ollie as if nothing had happened, kept your notes tidy, your tone brisk. And yet, every time your hands brushed when you passed him a water bottle or straightened his lanyard, your stomach lurched.

By lunchtime, you felt like you were suffocating.

That’s when Flavy found you.

She slipped into the seat across from you in the Haas hospitality lounge, sliding her sunglasses onto the top of her head. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she said matter-of-factly, sipping her iced coffee.

You blinked. “What?”

Flavy arched a brow. “You’ve been pacing around like a robot since this morning. Something’s up.”

You laughed nervously, fiddling with the edge of your notebook. “It’s nothing. Just… long night prepping Ollie for that interview.”

“Mm-hm.” She leaned forward, chin propped on her hand, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Let me guess. Long night… and maybe a kiss?”

Your face went hot instantly. “Flavy!”

Her grin widened. “Oh my god, I’m right, aren’t I?”

You buried your face in your hands. “Please tell me I didn’t make it that obvious.”

“Relax, chérie, I only guessed because you have the same look I had the first time Esteban kissed me. Completely dazed, like someone rewired your brain.”

You groaned. “It was a mistake. A total, complete mistake.”

Flavy tilted her head, studying you. “Did it feel like a mistake?”

That silenced you. You stared at the table, voice barely above a whisper. “No. It felt… like everything all over again. And that’s the problem.”

She softened instantly, reaching across the table to squeeze your hand. “YN. You’ve been carrying this weight, non? Like it’s your job to protect him and keep things perfect. But you forget—you’re not a machine. You’re allowed to feel.”

You looked at her, conflicted. “But it’s unprofessional. He’s my client. I’m supposed to be focused on his career, not—”

“Not falling in love again?” Flavy finished gently.

You swallowed hard.

She smiled knowingly. “Listen. I know it’s messy. But I also know what I see when you two are together. The way he looks at you, the way you steady him. That isn’t just PR. That’s history. That’s care. That’s love.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and you blinked them back quickly. “I can’t risk hurting him. Or myself.”

Flavy squeezed your hand again, firm but kind. “You can’t risk not being honest either. Pretending those feelings don’t exist? That hurts worse in the long run.”

You let out a shaky laugh. “When did you get so wise?”

She smirked. “I’ve had practice. Esteban was… not easy in the beginning.” Her eyes softened. “But he was worth the risk. Maybe Ollie is too.”

Her words sat heavy in your chest, comforting and terrifying all at once.

Finally, you exhaled, leaning back in your chair. “Okay. I’ll… think about it.”

“That’s all I ask.” Flavy grinned, grabbing her sunglasses again. “And if you need someone to scream into a pillow with, you know where to find me.”

You laughed despite yourself, the knot in your chest loosening just slightly.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🦢˚. ᵎᵎ .𖥔 ݁ ˖🦢˚. ᵎᵎ

The hotel is quiet in that soft, late-evening way, the hallways muted except for the distant hum of the elevator. You’ve just changed into an oversized t-shirt, your hair still damp from a shower, laptop open on the bed with notes glowing on the screen. You’re trying—really trying—to focus on bullet points and media strategies for tomorrow, but your mind won’t stop replaying last night.

That kiss. The warmth of Ollie’s hand brushing your jaw, the way you leaned into him without hesitation, the way your heart had sprinted like it was 2021 all over again. And then your own panicked voice telling him it couldn’t happen again. You’ve been chanting it to yourself since—you’re his press secretary, you’re professional, you can’t ruin this.

So when the knock comes on your door, you assume it’s housekeeping or maybe Flavy dragging you out for tea. But when you open it and find Ollie standing there—hoodie half-zipped, curls messy from running his hands through them—your breath catches.

“Ollie,” you whisper, clutching the doorframe. “It’s late—what are you—”

“I had to,” he blurts out, almost breathless, eyes searching yours like he’s afraid you’ll slam the door. “I couldn’t just sit in my room pretending like… like that didn’t happen.”

Your stomach flips. For a second you actually consider closing the door, because you know if he comes inside, your heart won’t stand a chance. But his voice cracks, and your hand betrays you—you step back.

He slips in, the faintest hint of his cologne following him, and stands in the middle of your room like he has no idea what to do with himself. His hands stay buried in his pockets, but his whole body is restless.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you murmur, closing the door softly. “Ollie, if anyone finds out—”

“I don’t care.” His words are sharp, certain. His eyes lock on yours, stubborn and desperate all at once. “YN, I don’t care if it’s unprofessional, I don’t care if people talk, I don’t care if the team yells at me. I’ve tried to be calm, to just… work with you, but I can’t anymore.”

Your throat tightens. “Ollie…”

He takes a step closer. “I’m still madly in love with you. I never stopped.” His voice softens, pleading now. “I know I was stupid when I let you go. I know I hurt you. But these last few months… being with you again, even like this—it’s the happiest I’ve been in years. And I can’t go another night pretending I don’t want you back.”

The room feels too small, the air too thin. You wrap your arms around yourself, torn between running and throwing yourself at him. “This is crazy. You’re my driver. I’m your press secretary. If anyone finds out—”

“Then let me handle it,” he cuts in, steadier now. He closes the gap between you, leaving only a breath of space. His hand twitches like he wants to reach for yours but waits. “I’ll handle the team. I’ll handle the press. I’ll take every consequence if it means I get to have you. Just… don’t push me away again. Please.”

You stare at him, heart hammering so loud you’re sure he can hear it. Finally, you whisper, “You’re not supposed to say things like that.”

“Then tell me to leave,” he challenges gently. “Tell me you don’t feel the same, and I’ll go. I’ll walk out that door right now.”

But you don’t. You can’t. It’s written all over you—the way your lips part, your hands tremble, your chest aches at the thought of him leaving.

And Ollie sees it. His face softens, and before you can stop yourself, you grab the front of his hoodie and tug him forward. His lips crash against yours, urgent and desperate, like years of longing finally snapping.

You stumble back until your shoulders hit the wall, his hands cupping your face, thumbs brushing your cheekbones like he needs to memorize you. You kiss him back feverishly, twisting your fingers in his hoodie, and it feels like home and wildfire all at once.

When you finally break apart, breathless, he leans his forehead against yours. “See?” he whispers, grinning through uneven breaths. “That’s not something you just walk away from.”

A shaky laugh escapes you, and you bury your face in his chest, heart racing. “We’re so screwed.”

“Maybe,” he admits, pressing a kiss into your hair, voice low and certain. “But at least we’ll be screwed together.”

And somehow, in that quiet hotel room, with his arms tight around you, it doesn’t feel terrifying anymore—it just feels right.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🦢˚. ᵎᵎ .𖥔 ݁ ˖🦢˚. ᵎᵎ

The morning light is soft and warm as you pull your jacket tighter around yourself, trying to act casual while glancing around the Haas paddock. The roar of engines and chatter of team members makes it feel like a completely different world from the quiet hotel room where Ollie had confessed his feelings the night before.

You’re checking your phone for updates, pretending to scroll through emails, when you feel a nudge at your side. Ollie’s there, hoodie zipped up, sunglasses slightly crooked, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips.

“Are you ready?” he asks quietly, voice low enough that no one nearby can hear.

You blink at him, heart thudding. “Ready for what?”

“For our little escape.”

You stare at him for a beat, realizing what he means. And then a smile curls your lips despite the nerves fluttering in your chest. “Oh. Right. Yeah… let’s go.”

He slides his hand into yours, fingers interlacing perfectly. You’re careful to glance over your shoulder, making sure no team members are watching. Together, you weave through the paddock, ducking behind hospitality units, hugging the shadows, until you reach the side exit that leads out toward the quiet streets of the town near the track.

Once you’re out of sight, Ollie lets out a quiet laugh. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“You said it yourself,” you tease, tugging him along. “We’re screwed, remember?”

He rolls his eyes, but the smile in his eyes is all mischief. “Yeah, yeah. But secretly, this feels… perfect.”

The streets are empty and calm, the hum of traffic distant. You walk together, talking quietly about nothing in particular—how loud the paddock is, a ridiculous story Kimi had told you yesterday, the way Esteban keeps sending you memes. The ordinary chatter makes everything feel surreal, like the world has melted away and it’s just the two of you.

Eventually, you spot a small, cozy café tucked down a side street. The sign is hand-painted, and the aroma of fresh bread and coffee drifts toward you. Ollie glances at you with a grin that’s all teeth and warmth.

“Perfect. You picking?”

You nod eagerly, pushing open the door. The café is quiet, almost empty, with soft jazz playing in the background and a few patrons typing on laptops or sipping coffee. It’s the opposite of the paddock—a little bubble of calm and normalcy.

You find a small table in the corner, close enough to the window that you can watch people pass by but tucked enough that no one will notice you. Ollie sits opposite you, eyes flicking around before he finally focuses back on you, and the grin fades into something softer, warmer.

“You know,” he murmurs, voice low, “I think this is the first time in… I don’t know how long, that I’ve just… existed without thinking about the team, the press, the schedule.”

You reach across the table and take his hand, squeezing it gently. “I know. That’s why we needed this.”

He exhales, leaning back in his chair, but doesn’t let go of your hand. “I can’t believe how much I missed this. Missed you.”

Your chest tightens. “Me too,” you whisper. “I didn’t think… I didn’t think we’d get a chance like this again.”

The waiter comes over, and Ollie orders a coffee for himself and a hot chocolate for you, just the way you like it—extra whipped cream, a drizzle of caramel on top. You both watch the barista work in silence for a moment, and then Ollie leans forward, resting his chin on his hand.

“So… what’s our plan?” he asks, eyes locking with yours. “We can’t exactly be… open, but I also can’t stop wanting this. Wanting you.”

You bite your lip, trying not to blush. “We… figure it out together. Slowly. Carefully. But… we enjoy moments like this. Just us.”

He grins, leaning across the table to brush a soft kiss across your forehead. “Deal.”

The coffee and hot chocolate arrive, and you both dig in, laughing quietly when he steals a piece of whipped cream from the top of your mug. You swipe a finger across his lip and he laughs, the sound low and happy, and you realize your heart might actually burst from how good this feels.

After the drinks, he insists on walking you back the way you came, hand-in-hand. Every step feels charged, but safe. You duck back into the paddock, slipping behind a garage just in time to avoid a passing engineer. Both of you are giggling quietly like teenagers sneaking out for the first time.

Once you’re back in the quiet corner of the paddock, he presses a gentle kiss to your lips again, slower this time, savoring it. “I could get used to this,” he murmurs against your mouth.

“Me too,” you admit, your hands clutching the back of his hoodie.

He grins. “Then maybe we don’t have to hide all the time.”

You laugh softly, the tension of the paddock and the secrecy melting away, if only for a little while. And in that stolen afternoon, walking back to the chaos together, you realize that no matter how tricky this all is, having Ollie by your side makes everything feel… right.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🦢˚. ᵎᵎ .𖥔 ݁ ˖🦢˚. ᵎᵎ

f1gossipgirls

1,345,000 likes.

f1gossipgirls : Ollie Bearman and his press secretary getting way too cozy for just work ☕❤️ secret smiles, stolen laughs, and maybe a little more than coffee… looks like office hours are getting very interesting 😏

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🦢˚. ᵎᵎ .𖥔 ݁ ˖🦢˚. ᵎᵎ

The morning light was just creeping through the curtains when you blinked awake, tangled in Ollie’s arms. For a moment, everything feels perfect—warm, quiet, safe. But then your phone buzzes on the nightstand, and a pit forms in your stomach before you even glance at it. One look, and your heart drops.

Screenshots from the café—taken by some fan or passerby—are all over social media. There you are, hand-in-hand with Ollie, laughing over hot chocolate, heads dangerously close together.

Your hands shake as you tap the screen. “Ollie… oh no. Oh no no no.”

He sits up, rubbing his eyes, then sees the panic on your face. “What’s wrong?”

“It… it’s all over the internet,” you whisper, voice trembling. “The café pictures—they’re everywhere. The press, the fans… the team will see. We’re screwed.”

Ollie runs a hand through his hair, calm and grounding. “Okay, okay. Slow down. We deal with this before it gets worse.”

“Deal with it?” You nearly shriek. “Ollie, they’re going to fire me! Or—”

He takes your hands in his. “Then we go to the team. Now. Before anyone else sees it. I’ll handle it.”

The walk back to the paddock feels surreal. Engines roar, engineers chatter, but Ollie’s grip on your hand is the only thing keeping you tethered. By the time you reach the garage, the team is already aware—their faces stormy, phones out, murmurs all around.

Inside the office, the senior management has gathered. One of them slams a tablet down on the desk, displaying the café photo in full.

“This. This is completely unprofessional,” Mark, the senior manager, says sharply. “You’re here to be Mr. Bearman’s press secretary, not… whatever this is.”

You open your mouth, “I—”

“Please,” Ollie interrupts, stepping forward, hand lightly on your shoulder. “Listen. YN has been exceptional in her role. Nothing about her performance has suffered. I take full responsibility for the situation, but she is professional and essential to this team.”

Mark’s jaw tightens. “We understand, Ollie, but this is highly inappropriate. The optics—fans, sponsors, press—it’s a problem. We can’t overlook it.”

You hold your breath, hoping he can sway them.

Then the words drop like a hammer. “YN,” Mark continues, voice cold, “this is serious. You have a choice. Either you end this… relationship immediately, or you lose your position here. There’s no compromise.”

Your stomach twists, and your throat goes dry. Ollie’s hand tightens on yours, but his face is a mask of controlled frustration.

“You can’t be serious,” Ollie says, jaw tight. “She’s done nothing wrong. She’s the best PR assistant I’ve ever had, and this—” He gestures to the screen. “This is her private life. It doesn’t affect her work. She’s not being unprofessional in her job. And you know it.”

Mark shakes his head. “We’ve considered that. But perception is everything. We can’t risk this becoming a distraction for the team, or the sponsors will push back.”

Your heart pounds, fear and frustration and helplessness all mixing together. You glance at Ollie—he’s calm on the surface, but his jaw is tight, his eyes flashing. “You’d do anything?” you whisper.

“Anything,” he murmurs back, squeezing your hand reassuringly.

“I…” you begin, voice trembling. “I can’t just—choose like that… end things because of a rule that wasn’t even written down.”

The team’s expressions are unyielding. “That’s your ultimatum,” Mark says. “Now decide.”

Ollie exhales, running a hand through his hair, leaning slightly toward you. “YN… you don’t have to answer right now. But whatever you choose, I’m not letting this ruin us.”

Your chest tightens as the weight of the ultimatum presses down. You love him. You want him. But now the stakes are higher than ever—not just your heart, but your job, your stability.And somewhere deep inside, you know this decision isn’t just about work or love. It’s about choosing together, and nothing will ever be the same after today.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🦢˚. ᵎᵎ .𖥔 ݁ ˖🦢˚. ᵎᵎ

You push open the doors to the hospitality lounge, barely noticing the faint hum of conversation and clinking cups. The chatter and laughter around you feel distant, like you’re underwater, as your stomach twists and your chest aches. You barely make it to one of the corner sofas before flopping down, shoulders heavy, head in your hands.

Flavy spots you immediately. “YN?” she says softly, sliding onto the couch next to you. Her eyes take in your expression—usually composed, confident, and radiant—and she falters at the sadness etched across your face. “Hey… what happened?”

You shake your head, trying to form words, but your throat tightens. Flavy places a hand on your knee, warm and grounding. “Talk to me,” she says gently.

“I—I don’t know where to start,” you whisper. “It’s… it’s Ollie. The café pictures got leaked. And the team… they’ve given me an ultimatum. Either the relationship ends, or I lose my job.”

Flavy’s mouth opens in shock, then she leans back, processing. “Wait… what? They’re actually trying to fire you… over a picture?”

You nod, blinking rapidly. “I… I love him. I can’t just end things. But… they’re serious. They said perception is everything, and they don’t want me here if I’m with him. I don’t know what to do.”

At that moment, Esteban steps out of the kitchen area, tray in hand, and freezes when he sees your face. He carefully sets the tray down and crouches beside you. “YN… what’s going on?”

You can’t hold it in anymore. Your voice cracks as you explain everything—the café pictures, the ultimatum, the team insisting that you end things or lose your job. You feel exposed, vulnerable, and completely drained.

Flavy squeezes your shoulder, while Esteban listens intently, jaw tightening as he takes in the story. “That’s… insane,” he mutters finally. “They can’t seriously think firing you over this is okay.”

You shrug helplessly, tears threatening to fall. “I don’t know what to do. Ollie… he’s madly in love with me. He wants to fight for it, but—” Your voice catches. “I can’t lose my job.”

Just then, the lounge door opens, and a familiar, warm voice cuts through the tension. “What’s going on in here?”

You look up and see Ollie’s mum, Terri, standing in the doorway, arms crossed, but eyes soft and concerned. She’s always been fiercely protective of Ollie, and the sight of her scanning the room and immediately noticing your distress makes you exhale a shaky breath.

“What happened?” she asks, walking over, noticing the tension in your shoulders, the glimmer of tears in your eyes.

Flavy explains quickly, gesturing to you. “YN just told us… the team gave her an ultimatum. Either she ends her relationship with Ollie or she loses her job.”

Terri’s eyes narrow immediately, the protective, no-nonsense energy you’ve seen a thousand times in Ollie radiating off her. “Excuse me?” she says, voice sharp but controlled. “They’re threatening her? Over what? Love? For goodness’ sake, this is ridiculous.”

You bury your face in your hands. “I just… I can’t… I love him. I don’t know what to do…”

Terri kneels beside you, placing her hands gently on your shoulders. “Listen to me, darling. You’re not going to let anyone bully you out of this. And you’re certainly not going to lose your job without a fight.”

Esteban nods, standing beside her. “I’ll come with you,” he says firmly, glancing between you and Terri. “If you’re going to talk to them, you shouldn’t go alone. I know a thing or two about standing up to them.”

Flavy gives you a reassuring squeeze. “Whatever happens, we’ve got your back. You don’t have to face this alone.”

You look at them all—Flavy’s warm, loyal presence, Esteban’s quiet, solid support, and Terri’s unshakable determination—and a small flicker of courage ignites inside you. You realize that maybe you can confront this, that maybe this isn’t a battle you have to face alone, and that Ollie would want you to stand your ground.

Terri stands, straightening her shoulders. “Come on. Let’s go have a little chat with those so-called decision-makers before they make a huge mistake.”

Esteban slips an arm around your shoulders, giving you a steadying squeeze. “You’ve got this,” he says. “We’ll make sure they hear you loud and clear.”

You take a deep breath, letting the courage settle in your chest. For the first time all morning, the pit in your stomach eases a little. Maybe, just maybe, with the right allies beside you, you can fight this. And maybe Ollie won’t have to face this without you either.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🦢˚. ᵎᵎ .𖥔 ݁ ˖🦢˚. ᵎᵎ

The hallway outside the team office feels impossibly long as you, Terri, and Esteban walk toward the conference room. Every step makes your heart pound faster, but the warmth of Terri’s hand on your shoulder and Esteban’s quiet, steady presence at your side gives you a sense of grounding. You can’t help stealing a glance at Terri, whose jaw is set and eyes hard, and you realize that nothing short of a hurricane could break her today.

When the three of you push open the door, the room falls silent. The senior team management—Mark, two other PR heads, and the sporting director—are already seated, looking up in surprise.

“YN,” Mark starts, voice sharp but cautious, “we didn’t expect—”

Terri cuts him off with a voice that leaves no room for interruption. “No, you weren’t expecting me. And you should be glad I showed up. Because this… this is outrageous.” She strides forward, eyes blazing, stopping just short of the table. “You think threatening a young woman over who she chooses to love is acceptable? Do you even understand what you’re doing?”

You swallow nervously, gripping Esteban’s arm, but he gives you a small, reassuring squeeze. Terri continues, her voice rising slightly, though still measured and commanding. “I have raised my son to work hard, to be the best, to take responsibility for his career. But I have never seen him this happy—ever. And that happiness? It’s because of her.” She points toward you, and your chest warms despite the tension in the room. “You threaten to fire her over… love? Over a private moment? If you truly care about your drivers’ mental health, their wellbeing, you wouldn’t be doing this. Not now. Not ever.”

Mark opens his mouth, but Terri doesn’t pause. “I don’t care what ‘perception’ you think you’re protecting. I don’t care about optics. What I care about is my son being treated like a human being—and YN being treated like the professional she is.”

Esteban, who has been standing quietly beside you, finally speaks, his tone calm but firm. “And I’ll back her up. YN has done nothing wrong in her role. She’s organized, professional, and completely competent. And Ollie—” he glances pointedly at Terri and then the managers—“he’s happier than I’ve ever seen him. You’re jeopardizing both their wellbeing for a rule that doesn’t exist. That’s not leadership. That’s fear and control.”

Your throat tightens as you listen. You glance at Ollie, who has arrived quietly behind the trio, taking in the scene. His jaw is set, but his eyes are soft on you, and you feel the flutter of hope in your chest.

Terri leans forward, her hands flat on the table, voice lowering but cutting through every doubt in the room. “Let me make this simple for you. YN stays. Ollie stays happy. And you focus on racing, not policing hearts. This ends now. You threaten her again, and you’ll have me to answer to. Do I make myself clear?”

Mark and the other managers exchange glances, tension thick in the air. You can almost feel the silence stretching. Esteban steps forward slightly, voice steady: “We’re not asking for special treatment. We’re asking for fairness. Let them be together. It’s not a distraction—it’s support, happiness, and trust. That should be your priority, not scandal-mongering over a private moment.”

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Mark exhales, shoulders slumping, and says, “Fine. They can… continue their relationship. But… discretion is expected. We don’t want unnecessary attention from the press.”

Terri tilts her head, a satisfied but still wary expression on her face. “Good. That’s all I wanted to hear. They deserve that much.”

Ollie finally steps forward, closing the distance between you and him. He gently takes your hand in his, giving it a small squeeze, eyes locking with yours. “You okay?” he murmurs.

You nod, feeling a rush of relief and emotion. “I think so. Thanks… to both of you,” you say softly, looking at Terri and Esteban. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

Esteban smirks slightly, clapping you on the shoulder. “You’d have figured it out. But it’s more fun with people by your side.”

Terri crosses her arms, but her eyes are softer now. “Now come on. You two. Back to work—and maybe a little less sneaking around, hmm?” she teases gently, though you know the sparkle in her eyes is approval.

Ollie laughs quietly, leaning down to brush a quick kiss across your temple. “Guess we’re officially allowed to be ourselves,” he whispers.

You grin, heart light for the first time all morning. “Yeah… officially. Finally.”

And as you leave the room, hand in hand with Ollie, you realize just how much it means to have people fighting for you, and that sometimes, love—no matter how complicated—can be strong enough to push through anything.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🦢˚. ᵎᵎ .𖥔 ݁ ˖🦢˚. ᵎᵎ

The final lap felt like it had lasted an eternity. Your heart is pounding so hard you’re sure Ollie can hear it from the paddock, even though he’s in the car. The radio crackles with the familiar tension, engineers shouting final lap times, the pit crew counting down. And then… the checkered flag.

You scream so loudly you’re probably scaring the nearby fans, your hands clenching the railing as Ollie crosses the line in P3. Your stomach flips, a mixture of relief, pride, and excitement all at once. He did it. Your Ollie—the boy who’d once nervously called you about karting results, the boy you’d loved long before F1—did it.

The team erupts in the garage, but you barely notice. All you can see is him, climbing out of the car, helmet in hand, racing suit soaked with sweat. He’s running. Not toward the cameras, not toward the podium—he’s running straight toward you.

You freeze for a split second, heart in your throat. And then he’s there.

“I did it!” he practically yells, voice hoarse and wild with joy. Before you can even respond, he grabs both your hands and spins you around. He kisses you like it’s the only thing that matters in the world—long, breathless, a mixture of adrenaline and pure happiness. Your legs tingle, your stomach does somersaults, and for a second, nothing else exists.

“You did it!” you manage between laughs and kisses, clutching at his shoulders.

He grins, forehead pressed against yours, chest heaving. “We did it,” he corrects, spinning you around again. “I did it, but… you—you kept me sane through it all. You made this happen, YN.”

Somewhere behind the railing, Kimi—who’d been waiting with the rest of the rookies—is practically shouting. “FINALLY!” His hands are on his hips, and you can see a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “About time you let her see you actually win something! I was starting to think she’d have to start cheering for someone else!”

Ollie laughs, still spinning you around. “Shut up, Kimi! This is my moment!”

You laugh along, arms wrapped around his neck, and he lifts you slightly, spinning again. “No, our moment,” he insists, voice full of joy. “You and me, okay? This podium is as much yours as it is mine.”

Flavy appears at the edge of the scene, grinning and taking in the chaos. “You two are ridiculous,” she teases, holding up her phone, probably already documenting every second. “You should probably save some of this energy for the trophy photos, guys.”

Ollie pretends to pout at her before pressing one more quick kiss to your forehead. “Sorry, we can’t help it! This is too big to be subtle.”

You nuzzle against him, laughing, trying to steady your breathing. “I think the whole paddock knows now,” you whisper.

“Good,” he says, pulling you close again. “Let them know. They can all see that this is my girl. Always has been. Always will be.”

Kimi groans dramatically from behind you. “Ugh, I hate you guys. But also… this is really cute, I admit it.”

And as the confetti starts to fall, cameras flash, and the podium looms in the distance, you realize that for the first time in your life, standing here with Ollie, nothing else matters. You’re here. He’s here. You’re together. And somehow, amidst the chaos and cheers, it feels like the whole world has shrunk down to just the two of you—and it’s perfect.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🦢˚. ᵎᵎ .𖥔 ݁ ˖🦢˚. ᵎᵎ

olliebearman

liked by yourusername, kimi.antonelli, thomasbearman1 and 2,500,000 others.

olliebearman : first ever f1 podium and got the love of my life back🤍

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It was your twenty-first birthday. Your friends brought you out to a bar to have you try your first drink. And you did.

"It's... alright." You say.

"Oh, come on! It's your first drink it must be more exciting!" Alex says.

"I still can't believe you've never had a drink. Do you remember the number of times we drank at our house parties?" Abby asks.

"I do. And that's also the night where you would black out." You point at her, slowly sipping your drink.

"But I still survived." She smirks.

Alex turns towards you, her smile growing wide. "So... what's going on with you and Ollie? Haven't seen him around much."

"Well, he's working. I'm trying to get everything done and settled before summer. He's home, though."

"Please tell me he celebrated with you." Veronica asks.

"He did. He brought me out to dinner on my actual birthday."

"Thank God. I was about ready to throw hands." Veronica jokes.

"But... we still have to take you out for your first drink." Abby smirked.

"Right, you did." You smile. "A first for everything." You toast.

"A first for everything." They repeat, clicking their glasses with yours.

A specific song came on that the DJ played on stage.

"This is our song!" Alex says, standing up and reaching a hand out to you.

"Oh my God, is it!" Veronica claps her hands quickly, standing up.

You take Alex's hand, and she leads you and the girls to the dance floor, where you all jump to the beat of the music.

"Best birthday ever!" Abby reaches her hands out for yours. You connect your with hers and dance with her.

"Best birthday ever!" You repeat, smiling widely.

You sway your body to the music. Abby danced in front of you like her life depended on it. The song slowly came to an end, remixing into another one.

"God, I can't get enough of that song." Veronica smiles.

"I know, right? It's the best." You laugh. The four of you walk back to your table, sitting down and talking.

"What if we go back to your house?" Abby suggests.

"Yeah." Alex beams.

"But Ollie is working..." Veronica trails.

"Oh, he's fine. He's got a whole office upstairs. We could always go down to the basement or something." You shrug.

"Yeha let's do that!" Abby claps.

"I'm in." Alex smiles.

"I'm in to." Veronica says.

"Same with me." You say.

The four of you leave cash on the table. Mostly your friends as they refuse for you to pay. You walk out of the club, all piling into your car and driving to your house.

"I literally want your car." Abby says, looking around it.

"Maybe if you ask nice, she'll give it to you." Veronica giggles.

"No way. This was a precious gift." You smile, your eyes focused on the road.

"A gift? You got a car as a gift?" Alex asks surprised.

"You did to Alex. You literally got one for your sixteenth birthday." Abby laughs.

"Oh, right!"

You laugh, turning into your neighborhood complex.

"What are we going to do at home?" Veronica asks.

"I was thinking go down into the basement, turn on some music and play games." You suggest.

"And she has a bar down there." Abby smirks

"That bar was only built for parties-" You cut yourself off.

"This is a party girl!" Alex laughs.

You roll your eyes, pulling into the driveway and getting out.

"Woo! I am lit!" Abby dances around, making her way to the front door.

You laugh following behind her as she walks in.

"Ollie hunny! I am home!" She shouts, throwing her arms in the air.

"In here!" He calls from the kitchen.

"Ew, Ollie! It's Abby." She says in disgust.

You walk in the kitchen, smiling and rolling your eyes.

"Shell pass out in a bit." You say.

"How was your party?" He smiles.

"Godd, we're going in the basement, so we don't disturb you." You say, hugging him.

"Oh, you're fine. But whatever you want to do." He says.

"I'll see you in a few." You smirk.

"Have fun." He smiles. You walk away, and the girls are already waiting by the basement door.

The four of you venture down the stairs. You turn the light on as Abby heads to the bar area.

It was a casual basement. Casual for you. In the right far corner was a small living area. Classic 'L' shaped couch and matching arm chair eith a flat screen hanging on the wall.

To the left was the small bar and sports area where Abby was. The rest was more of a free for all space.

The closet door was right under the stairs, which is where Veronica and Alex were, piling up games in their arms.

"Let's play truth or dare!" Abby says, sitting on the floor in front of the couch.

The girls rushed over. You were the last to sit down, finishing the circle they formed.

"Y/n, truth or dare?" Abby starts.

"Truth."

"What's the real reason you won't drink?"

"I just don't really like the taste of it. Maybe once in a while, like at parties or something, but... even then, it's only a glass."

Veronica nods her head. "Valid."

"Alex, truth or dare?" You ask.

"Truth." She says proudly.

"Why won't you find a boyfriend for yourself?" You smirk.

"Honeslty?"

You all nod.

"I'm not even into guys."

"Alex! Way to go!" Abby claps.

"Girl power to the max." Veronica smiles.

"Honeslty men suck... I'd agree." You nod.

"She says as she has a boyfriend upstairs." Veronica says.

"Veronica. Truth or dare?" Alex smirks.

"Dare."

"I dare you to... prank call a family member."

"Oh my God." Veronica laughs, taking her phone out.

She quickly dials her sister, putting it on speaker.

"Hello?"

"Hi..." Veronica snickers. "This is-" She pauses, looking around for an answer. Abby whispers something in her ear.

"This is M.M.C Monaco, we have your bill here for the new car you purchased today. We will need a five thousand dollar payment on top of the sixty thousand you spent." She covers her mouth quickly.

"What? Sixty thousand dollars? That's insane who would pay that much for a car?" Her sister freaks out.

"Well, we have the information here-"

"Is this a prank? I would never do this! What the fuck?"

She hangs up the phone quickly, and the four of you die out laughing.

"My God she was pissed!" You laugh.

"Jesus Christ!" Abby shouts.

"If only I could see her face!" Alex laughs.

"It's almost eleven at night. Why would a dealership be open that late!" Veronica says.

Abby quickly stands, grabbing her bag that she threw on to the couch.

"I... have a fun game." She smirks, holding something behind her back.

"What's that?" You ask.

She whips out a bunch of pregnancy tests, and all of you look at her shocked.

"Pregnancy roulette!"

"I'm down. At least I know I'm not pregnant." Alex puts a hand to her chest."

"So am I. Last time, Adam and I did something was... Jesus, I can't even remember." Veronica says.

"Y/n?" Abby asks.

You think for a minute. "I guess I'm in."

She hands a test out to each of you, walking into the bathroom first. "I have extras in case!"

"Incase... what is she thinking?" Veronica chuckles.

The door quickly opens, Abby's test in a red solo cup. "Your next." She smirks, pointing at you.

You roll your eyes, walking into the bathroom. You quickly read over the instructions, doing what you needed before walking out, plopping the test in the cup.

"V you're up." You point. She smirks, walking into the bathroom. Within a couple of minutes, she was out, carefully putting the test in the cup that Abby held proudly.

Alex was last to go. She took a couple of minutes before finally coming back out, adding the test in with the rest.

The four of you walk over to the couch, sitting in the same circle as Abby mixed them around.

"Three minutes, it's basically been that." Veronica says.

"Well let's wait for Alex's." You say. They all nod.

"What if one of them is positive." Abby smirks.

"I'll be dammed." Veronica crosses her heart.

"Well.... we all know it's not me." Alex giggles.

"Your lucky." You laugh.

Abby pulls her phone from her back pocket. "It's time."

She mixes them one last time before picking on.

"Number one... negative."

You all cheer as she picks a different one. "Number two... negative."

More cheers and 'yes'' were heard. "Number three negative."

"And..." She pauses, opening the cap to the last one. "Number four... positive."

Gasps were heard around the room.

Your face drops. There's only three people. Three chances it couldn't be you.

"What's do we do?" V asks.

"I have more. That's the rule of pregnancy roulette. You always bring more." Abby jumps, reaching for her bag.

She pulls out four more boxes, handing each of them to you. She was first to go in, taking around five minutes before coming back out.

You went in next. You stayed in there, leaning against the counter in hopes of catching the lines that appear.

"Y/n, you good?" You hear Alex call from the door.

"Yeah! Sorry." You quickly open the door, test gripped in your hand. Alex went in after you, quickly walking back out.

V was up last. She took around five minutes before coming out. The four of you walk back over, sitting in a circle.

"Are we ready?" Alex asks.

"You go first." Abby says happily.

Alex slides the cap off of hers. "Negative."

Abby was next, letting out a sigh of relief. "Negative."

V was after, quickly sliding the cap off. "Negative." She squeals.

You were last. You slowly slid the cap off of the end. Positive

"Negative." You smile weakly.

"Hm... that was odd." Abby questions.

"Well, I mean they are only '99.9 percent' truthful. I have heard of false positives before." V shrugs.

"Yeah, so have I. My aunt sees them at the hospital all of the time."

"That is right." Abby points.

The rest of the night was filled with laughter, mostly of Abby being a messy drunk. Ollie was still in the kitchen when you walked upstairs, going to say goodbye to the girls.

Abby and Alex left together, already pulling out of the driveway when you and V were saying goodbye.

"I hope you had fun tonight." She smiles, hugging you.

"Yeah..."

She pulls away quickly, keeping her hands on your shoulders. "What's wrong?"

"I... I'm pregnant."

Her eyes widen. "No."

"Yeah. It was positive."

"What are you going to do?"

"I have no idea."

"I think the responsible thing to do is tell Ollie first. And if you need help with anything I'm always here." She says gently.

"Can you please not tell the others, until I figure it out?"

"Of course. Secret is safe with me." She smiles.

You pull her into a hug. "Thank you V."

"Anytime. Please call me with updates." She says.

"I will. Promise."

She smiles, giving a small wave before closing the door behind her. You nervously walk into the kitchen, standing across Ollie who had just shut his laptop down.

"How was the party?" He asks with a smile.

"It's was... good."

"Just good?"

"Yeah, you know, just regular games and stuff." You shrug.

He walks around, gently grabbing your waist. "Well I'm sure your tired. It's almost midnight."

"Yeah." You agree. The both of you walked upstairs. You quickly changed into a pair of pajamas and crawled into bed.

Ollie soon walked out from the bathroom, sliding in next to you. "Are you okay, though? To much to drink?"

"Not enough." You snicker.

"Something's on your mind." He gently grabs your hand.

You sigh, rolling your eyes. "How'd you know?"

"I just do. Now what's going on?"

You sit up, facing him and crossing your legs under you. "There was... a certain type of game we played down there." You start.

"Alright..." He trails.

"And- it was kind of like roulette."

"Oh well that's fun." He enlightens.

"Yeah, not really." You say. His brow raises. "We... we played pregnancy roulette."

"Pregnancy roulette? What- is like who gets pregnant first?" He asks.

You sigh, reaching into your back pocket. "You take a test, and one person reads if it's positive or negative. You don't know which is whos." You pull the test out, handing it to him.

"One was positive. So we re-took them." You add.

"Oh my God." He whispers.

"I don't know what to do." You choke out.

"Well- I mean are you going to keep it?"

"I don't know. I want to because it feels wrong to not keep it, but... you have your whole life ahead of you. I don't want to hold you back. Especially now." You say quietly.

"So do you. You have a life and career to. I'm not the only one."

"I just-"

"It's your body... your decision, but in all honesty, I think we should keep it." He pauses. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable or anything either.

"I don't want to hold you back."

"You're not going to hold me back. I would take all of the time off in the world for you. No matter what the cost is."

"I don't- I mean, are we even ready for this?" You rush.

"No, probably not but... we have help. We have people. We are also in our twenties-"

"I just turned twenty one. Your still twenty."

"Close to twenty-one. What I'm saying is I support you. I'm going to support you with whatever decision."

You pause, taking a moment. "What about work?"

"We get paternity leave."

"Meetings? Or... whatever?"

"Zoom calls."

"What if you need to fly out to the technology center."

"Zoom calls. Notes. Emails."

You roll your eyes. "You can do everything online."

"I can if it means I'm here for you. We have backup drivers. But hell with that, what matters is I'm here, supporting you."

"You'd really do this?"

He grabs both of your hands. "I would. For the both of you."

"So it's decided?" You ask.

"I'd love this baby like no tomorrow." He smiles.

©sydwritess

CHAPTER ONE, the introduction

CHAPTER TWO, the first race

CHAPTER THREE, dts episode one

CHAPTER FOUR, dts episode two

CHAPTER FIVE, dts episode three

CHAPTER SIX, dts episode 4

EXTRAS

DRIVER!YN, fans & friendship bracelets

🧸 date ──── May 28, 2025

🧸 a/n ──── Had this idea tap dancing in my head since Brazil 2024. It came back in my dream last night. I cleared my schedule so I can write a quickie. Enjoy 💋

📍 São Paulo Grand Prix, 2024

“OFF THE ROAD into the tarmac runoff for Oliver Bearman!” the commentator’s voice cuts sharp through the rain static on the broadcast.

It’s Sunday at Interlagos, and the weather tests everybody’s nerves. The skies are heavy and grey, brooding with thunderclouds that haven’t stopped spilling for hours. The asphalt has a darker shade, smoother, but far from forgiving; it offers little grip and even less predictability. Where there should be confidence in traction, there’s second-guessing and white-knuckled steering.

On-screen, the Haas is already facing the wrong direction, half-stranded in the runoff at Turn 10, its tires carving muddy streaks through the damp tarmac. With worn inters and a gust of crosswind hitting off the Senna S complex, it just snapped under braking, enough to slide, to lock up, to go straight off and miss the corner entirely.

Because that’s what rain does: punishes the smallest errors. And the lack of experience becomes a cure rather than an excuse.

Inside the cockpit, Oliver’s first reaction is confusion, his brain trying to make sense of what just happened. All it took was a fraction of a second, and the car pirouetted like it had a mind of its own. His heart jumps into his throat in an instant and, luckily, the young driver manages to keep it out of the wall, just barely. As the adrenaline fades, disappointment crashes in like a wave, forcing him to grip the steering wheel, only to give him the impression that he’s still got something to hold on to.

In the garage, the helplessness of his error settles into her chest. “No,” she breathes sharply, hand flying to her mouth instinctively.

The camera shifts from the replay of the spin to her. She’s standing by the monitors, arms crossed so tightly around herself now that it looks like she’s holding herself together by force. Her eyes are wide, and she is visibly horrified. She doesn’t blink as she stares at the screen, like if she looks away, something worse than that might happen.

Next to her, Oliver’s father reaches out gently, placing a comforting arm around her shoulder. His voice is calm, as he tells her something that the cameras aren’t able to pick up, but she nods stiffly, agreeing with the man, even though her body doesn’t seem to relax one bit. She’s not the kind to show her panic so publicly, never was. However, everything happened too fast for her mind to process, and now her nails are digging little crescents moons into her arms, and the camera captures it all.

She’s aware that the world is watching — she feels like throwing up the second she sees herself on the monitor — but at this point it doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is her Ollie.

As if summoned, his radio is displayed next in the right-hand corner of the screen.

“I’m such an idiot, man,” his voice comes through strained, full of self-loathing. For a little while, there is no response from Slade. Just the deafening static, his heavy breathing, and the weight of his disappointment that hangs between the words.

That’s what breaks her the most, not the spin. Not the fact that he lost so much ground or that he deprived the team of a potential finish in the points. Hearing him so defeated and unforgiving of himself, like he’s not allowed a single mistake in the same conditions where even the most experienced drivers are put to the test, it’s impossible for her to make peace with.

What’s worse is that she knows there are hours that separate her from him after the race is over, and she won’t be able to beat some sense into his pretty head that will for sure overthink every single second of his mistakes.

Two and a half, to be exact, when she finally sees him from the Haas hospitality. His shoulders are hunched, head slightly down, and though there are cameras following him, there’s nothing urgent in his steps, just exhaustion.

He knows he’s about to lose them when he enters the building anyway, but right before he can do so, Ollie hears his name. His team principal intercepts him just a few paces from the door, and the cameras shift and pivot like vultures drawn to movement; a few journalists still hang around, hoping for scraps of reaction.

The girl catches everything, her heart reducing to atoms when she sees her boyfriend suddenly so tense. She wants to run to him, to put herself between him and the noise, like Belle stepping in front of the Beast when the village came with pitchforks. She wants to shield him and tell them all to fuck off. But she can’t. Not without tarnishing his reputation, anyway.

“We talked about just keeping it on the track,” Ayao reminds him, and even though the man’s tone isn’t quite accusing, there is a hint of scolding behind his voice. “That’s what you had to do today.”

Oliver doesn’t speak, just nods once. Tight. Only to show his boss that he understands, he gets the message, but has nothing else to add. Not now, at least. Unfortunately, like it or not, his body language talks for him: it tells them he wants out of the conversation, away from the cameras, away from the moment he keeps replaying in his head.

At this point, he is just embarrassed. He doesn’t smile, and doesn’t give a quote. Just turns, opens the door, and finally disappears into the hospitality unit.

She’s catching sight of him right before he disappears down the corridor toward the driver’s room. His steps falter slightly when he hears her behind, and he glances back over his shoulder, waiting with his palm around the door knob.

When their eyes meet, he’s still silent. It’s as if he has lost the right to words, as if they can’t describe what he’s going through now anyway, so he chooses not to give them any power.

“I’m okay,” he says at last, his voice sounding mechanical, like he’s just repeating the same lie he told everyone until he got to her.

It makes her stomach twist.

She exhales a shaky breath, steps closer to reach up and touch the side of his face, ignoring the dampness in his curls. Or the fact that he just flinched at her gesture.

“Ol…”

He doesn’t look at her when he adds, “I just need a minute, okay?”

She nods, even though he’s not looking. “Right,” she says, her heart breaking a little at the way he’s pushing her away. “But is that all? Just a minute?”

For a moment, he looks like he wants to turn around and just let her fix whatever it is that needs to be fixed. It’s not as if she didn’t do that before. For him. But this time is different; everybody saw. He can’t physically move. Just stands there, hand still on the doorknob, his back still facing her.

“Can you just wait in the car?” asks Oliver as he opens the door, then disappears inside without waiting for her answer.

SHE FIGURES THE room is way too quiet the second she steps out of the hotel bathroom, towel wrapped around her body. The lights are turned off, and there’s just a tiny lamp on the bedside table that casts some of its poor rays across the walls.

Oliver sits up in bed, back against the headboard, eyes tracking her silently; he watches her as she moves around the room in silence, going through her routine like muscle memory. Moisturizer. Hairbrush. Towel switched for one of his old Ferrari Driver Academy shirts, its worn fabric hanging loose on her frame with the sleeves too long and the faded logo barely visible now. She always wears it when she’s trying to feel close to him, because that’s the first shirt he gave her back when they started dating.

And he knows that.

Even though they’re about to share a bed, they are currently miles apart.

He wants to tell her that he is still present, because he notices how, in her routine, she’s not leaving space for him anymore. But she keeps going, unbothered, plugging in the blowdryer and flicking the switch on. The low hum fills the room the next second, and it makes Oliver close his eyes at the noise, like it breaks whatever opportunity to speak he’s had left.

Her reflection in the mirror doesn’t look at him. Not even a glance. And it hits him once again, the same sick twist in his gut from earlier, when he just sent her away. He didn’t mean to, but he needed to be alone for his own sanity.

Looking back, Oliver realizes how wrong and heartless he was towards her, the only person in the entire paddock who didn’t deserve that treatment from him. He hates himself for it, and that’s one of the reasons why he desperately wants to at least try to get inside her head. To snuggle there and apologize until they fall asleep and forget that today existed in the first place.

But it would be too easy that way.

When the blowdryer clicks off, the room falls into silence again. Until he finds the strength to finally speak.

“Can you stop ignoring me, please?” asks Ollie, his voice breaking through, rougher than he intends. “I’m sorry.”

She’s still in her own world, avoiding to look at him. Just hangs the dryer on the hook and smooths her shirt down over her legs.

“For what?” she asks with a calm in her voice that sends shivers down his spine. “You didn’t do anything.”

Ollie narrows his eyes. “Come on, now. Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Pretend.”

“I’m not pretending,” she shrugs, walking to her side of the bed and pulling back the covers to slip under them. “I just want to sleep, Oliver. We have a ten-hour flight tomorrow.”

His full name sounds unfamiliar in her mouth. It makes his face twist in disgust, physically cringe, because it’s so wrong coming from her. Too distant.

“So that’s it?”

She shrugs again. “I’m just tired. That okay with you?”

He lets out an unamused chuckle. “No, actually, it’s not,” he snaps, sitting up straighter. “I am just trying to apologize so we can move past this.”

She turns her head toward him then, finally meeting his eyes. There’s no heat in hers, just quiet exhaustion. “Well, I waited in that car like a neglected dog for forty minutes, Ollie. After waiting for you to come back from the media pen. And after sitting through two hours of a race that never seemed to end. Respectfully, you can take your apology and shove it deep down your—”

“Baby, I’m sorry,” Oliver cuts her off. “I’m so bad at this, I know. But I’m sorry,” he insists. He runs a hand through his curls, eyes closing for a moment, enough to try to put his thoughts in order. When he opens them again, she’s already turned onto her side, facing away. “I just… I didn’t want to dump it on you, alright?”

Her brow furrows, and wants to ask him what he means by that. But then she feels the bed shifting slightly, and his arm slides around her waist, hesitant, like he’s unsure if he’s still allowed to touch her. Then firmer, Ollie pulls her back into him until there’s no space left. His body curls around hers, big and warm and familiar, as his face finds the curve of her neck, his nose pressing into her hair like he needs to just breathe her in, in order for everything to be right again.

He tangles their legs together beneath the sheets, his hold tight, too afraid she’ll slip through his fingers if he’d give her the chance.

“Don’t ignore me, darling,” whispers Ollie. “Please.”

Her heart starts racing at the sound of his mellow voice. She loves it and hates it at the same time, that a single word has the power to melt her so quickly.

His hand slips beneath the hem of the shirt, until his fingers find the warmth of her bare skin. They brush gently over her stomach, covering it completely, a soothing touch in the midst of desperation. It sends a jolt straight through her chest, and her heart stutters against her ribs once again, every nerve suddenly wide awake, hyperaware of the way his fingertips trace lazy, featherlight patterns like he’s playing the piano.

“I saw your face on the replay,” he finally explains with a defeated exhale. “You looked like the ground had just been ripped out from under you, and I am…” he pauses, swallows hard, then continues, “I’m supposed to protect you from that. From feeling like that.”

As if an arrow passes through her heart, she closes her eyes and just waits for it to go through to the other side, hoping that it will do as little damage as possible.

“I’m the one in the car,” says Ollie. “I signed up for this. I don’t care about the risks, because I chose them. But you didn’t. You chose me. And seeing you like that, like you’d just watched something awful happen and couldn’t do anything… Yeah, I don’t know how to handle that yet.”

She stiffens slightly in his arms, her fingers tightening around the edge of the blanket.

Oliver presses a kiss into the back of her shoulder. “I’ve been trying so hard to keep things normal between us. Same as before it got official, you know? Same stupid routines. But this is already changing things. Doesn’t it?” he asks, leaning in again to brush his lips over the curve of her shoulder.

She’s about to reply when she feels the tender heat of his tongue as he presses another kiss, on her neck this time. Her eyes sting, tears welling despite herself, and she turns in his arms, unable to keep her indifference intact. Her hands wrap around his torso, clutching him tightly, burying her face in his chest like she needs to feel every heartbeat to believe he’s here.

“I hate that you’re going to worry about me now,” he keeps going, as if his words have just returned from a long vacation, and he really needs to tell her everything. “Like, really worry. Not ‘what if his car breaks’ worry, but ‘what if he doesn’t come back in one piece’ worry. And I get it, because if this job ever made you regret being with me—”

She cuts him off before she even gets the chance to think of how to assure him best. “Ollie,” she breathes, shaking her head as her fingers press lightly against his chest. “That’s never going to happen. I could never regret you,” her voice is steady, in contrast with how fast her heart’s still beating. “I know what comes with loving you. And yeah, it scares me sometimes. But that doesn’t mean I’d ever walk away because of it. All you can do is be the best you can every time you’re in that car. That’s all anyone can ask of you, including Ayao. Including your team. And including me.”

He’s quiet, his eyes searching hers like he’s still not sure he deserves to hear that. But she doesn’t waver.

Instead, she reaches up, fingers threading gently through his curls, brushing them back from his forehead, her touch delicate. “I’m proud of you, my little cub. Not just when you get it right. If anything, it was pretty impressive what you did today.”

His eyes close for a second, her words settling into the cracks he’s been trying to hide all day. When he opens them again, they’re glassy and full of shame. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “For shutting you out. I didn’t mean to.”

She doesn’t need to say it. It’s in the way she leans in, closing the distance between them as her lips meet his, like they’ve both been holding their breath for too long.

As they kiss, his hand moves instinctively, sliding down her side until it finds her thigh. With one gentle motion, he lifts her leg over his hip, needing her closer than close. Her body pressed against his gives purpose a whole new meaning, the tension in his shoulders finally softening under her touch.

When they part, she studies him. His face is pale under the soft light, freckles stark against the skin that’s still slightly flushed from the day. His eyes are rimmed in exhaustion, but there’s something else beneath them that makes him look even younger than he is.

“By the way, just so we’re clear,” she begins, “I don’t need you to protect me, Ollie. I just need you to talk to me. Like we always do.”

He smiles now, brushing the tip of his nose against hers. “Can I now?”

As a response, she shakes her head, eyes dark with desire. “Nope, you missed that train, I’m afraid. I have other plans for that big mouth of yours,” she whispers, her voice laced with all the love that’s been hanging by a thread today.

She kisses him again, deeper this time, her hands sliding up his chest, fingers curling around his shoulders as she guides him, rolling them gently until he’s above her. Then, with a push, she urges him down, beneath the covers and between her legs, where her need for closeness matches his.

Oliver lets out a breath of a laugh, eyes never leaving hers as he disappears beneath the sheets. His hands glide along her thighs, parting them slowly, his smirk lingering as their eyes lock one last time before the world narrows to just the two of them.

And for the first time today, he doesn’t feel like he’s spinning out. Shame turns to lust. Exhaustion to hunger. His breath ghosts over her smooth skin, leaving goosebumps behind while savoring her quiet whimpers.

Impatient, she lifts her hips slightly, nudging his shoulder with her knee, “Keep taking your sweet time, and I’ll poke the damn bear if it gets him to move.”

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