stuck in da pitt

There was a pause.

A very long pause.

“Wait. What?”

You laughed. “It’s nothing.”

“Nothing?”

Lando sat up straighter from the couch, his whole expression changing.

“Y/n, you got promoted.”

“Yeah, but—”

“No. Don’t ‘but’ this.”

You smiled despite yourself.

Because suddenly he sounded more excited about it than you were.

“You worked so hard for this,” he continued. “Do you even understand how cool this is?”

“It’s just work.”

“It’s not just work. It’s something you wanted. Something you earned.”

You went quiet.

Because Lando wasn’t saying it just to make you feel better.

He genuinely meant it.

Lando was celebrating you in a way you never thought to celebrate yourself.

“It’s nothing, really,” you shrugged. “Just a small thing. I’d honestly be kind of mad at myself if I didn’t get it.”

His eyebrows immediately pulled together.

“Would you say the same thing to me?”

You looked at him. He didn’t let you speak. 

“If I won another championship, would you tell me, ‘It’s basically nothing, Lan. You should’ve expected it’?”

The second he said it, you felt something twist in your chest.

Because no.

Never.

The thought alone felt wrong.

“That’s different,” you argued quietly. “Your work is not the same as mine. My work is not that serious.”

“Why?”

“Because, Lan… you’re literally a Formula One driver.”

“And?”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out.

“It is serious, baby,” he said, softer this time. “Your work matters. Your goals matter!”

And somehow, that was the moment.

Not when you got the promotion.

Not when you saw the email.

But when Lando looked at something you had already dismissed and made you see it the way he did.

Yeah.

You knew you chose right.

OSCAR PIASTRI . ˚ You knew Oscar hated shopping.

He had never tried to hide it.

The first time you dragged him along, he made it very clear that he didn’t understand how anyone could spend hours walking around stores just to “look.”

And yet, somehow, he kept coming with you.

Even today.

You were already in the third shop, holding up another outfit in front of him while he stood there with your bags, giving surprisingly honest opinions.

“Okay, what about this one?”

Oscar looked up from his phone.

“It’s nice.”

“You said that about the last one.”

“Because it was also nice.”

You laughed. “That’s not helpful!”

He shrugged. “You asked if it looked good. It does.”

You looked at him for a moment.

Oscar Piastri, who hated long shopping trips. Oscar Piastri, who would rather be doing almost anything else.

And yet he was still there.

“Isn’t this boring to you?” you asked.

He didn’t even hesitate.

“Yes. Very.”

You blinked.

“Yes?”

“Yes.”

You laughed. “Then why are you here?”

Oscar looked genuinely confused by the question.

“Because you wanted to go shopping.”

“But you didn’t have to come.”

“I know.”

“Then why?”

He looked at you for a second, like the answer was obvious.

“I like spending time with you.”

And somehow, that was it.

Not some huge romantic gesture.

Just Oscar willingly spending hours doing something he hated because he liked being around you.

That was the moment you realized.

Oscar wasn’t the type to say a lot.

He just showed up.

CHARLES LECLERC . ˚ You didn’t think Charles was the kind of person who remembered small things.

Not because he didn’t care.

Actually, it was the opposite.

He cared about so many things that you assumed the little details would get lost somewhere between everything else.

So when you mentioned it once, you didn’t think anything of it.

You were sitting together after dinner, looking through the dessert menu, when you pointed at one of the options.

“Oh, I love that one,” you said casually. “But they never have it anywhere.”

Charles looked up from his menu.

“You like that?”

You shrugged. “Yeah. It’s probably my favorite.”

And then the conversation moved on.

You forgot about it.

Completely.

Weeks passed.

Life got busy. Schedules changed. You had a hundred other things to think about.

Until one evening, Charles showed up at your door with a small box in his hands and a smile on his face.

“I brought you something.”

You looked at the box, then back at him.

“What is it?”

“Open it.”

Inside was the dessert.

The exact one you had mentioned weeks ago.

For a second, you just stared.

“Charles…”

He looked slightly confused by your reaction.

“What?”

“You remembered this?”

A small smile appeared on his face.

“Of course I remembered, chérie.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head.

“You know I only mentioned it once, right?”

“Yes.”

“And you still remembered?”

He shrugged like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“You liked it.”

That was his entire explanation.

You looked at him for a moment, realizing something.

Charles wasn’t remembering things because he was trying to impress you.

He remembered because when you spoke, he actually listened.

MAX VERSTAPPEN . ˚ You knew Max loved padel.

Everyone knew Max loved padel.

It was one of those things that made him genuinely happy. A few hours where he could forget about everything else, joke around with his friends, and just enjoy himself.

So when you texted him about your IKEA disaster, you weren’t expecting much.

I think I bought a wardrobe that’s too complicated for me.

His reply came almost immediately.

I have padel tonight.

You smiled.

I know. I’m not asking you to come.

A few minutes passed.

Good.

You laughed at his very Max-like response and put your phone down.

You weren’t expecting him to show up.

Which was why you were completely shocked when someone knocked on your door an hour later.

You opened it.

Max stood there.

With a toolbox in one hand.

You blinked.

“Max?”

“Hey, schat.”

“What are you doing here?”

He looked past you, directly at the half-built wardrobe taking over your apartment.

“I’m fixing that.”

You stared at him.

“Weren’t you supposed to be at padel?”

“I was.”

“And?”

“I cancelled.”

Your eyebrows lifted.

He shrugged, already walking inside.

“I can’t risk that thing falling on you.”

You looked at the wardrobe, then back at him.

“That’s your reason?”

“Yes.”

“You cancelled padel because you’re worried my wardrobe might attack me?”

“It looks unstable.”

You tried not to laugh.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe.”

He picked up the instructions from the floor.

“But I’m also right.”

And annoyingly, he was.

You watched him sit down on the floor, completely focused on building something he had no responsibility for fixing.

“You know you didn’t have to come, right?”

Max looked up at you.

“I know.”

“Then why did you?”

For a second, he looked genuinely confused by the question.

“Because you needed help.”

Simple. No dramatic explanation. No making it a big deal.

Just Max showing up because, in his mind, that was the obvious thing to do.

And as you watched him fight with IKEA instructions instead of playing padel with his friends, you realized something.

Max loved you through choices.

© 𝐋𝐕𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐒 ：𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟔. all works are my own. do not copy, translate, repost my works on any platform. requests are closed.

ooi. lewis hamilton

— unraveling his braids

The only sound filling the quiet spaces of the living room was the soft, ambient hum of your laptop, drifting through a playlist of low-fidelity tracks that felt more like a heartbeat than music.

You were melting into the cushions of the couch, while Lewis sat on the floor right in front of you. His back was settled firmly against your shins, your legs bracketing the broad, familiar frame of his upper body. It was a position you both knew by heart—the universal signal that the two-week mark had arrived, and his scalp was finally ready to be released from the tension of his cornrows.

"I look forward to these days," Lewis murmured, tilting his head back against your knees to look up at you upside down.

"Getting your braids undone?" You laughed softly, your fingers already finding their rhythm at the crown of his head. "We do this every fortnight, baby. You’d think the novelty would have worn off by now."

You leaned down, pressing a light, lingering kiss to his forehead. Lewis let out a long, slow sigh, his shoulders visibly dropping an inch as his eyes fluttered shut.

"It’s not about the novelty," he said, his voice dropping into that quiet, gravelly register he only used when he was completely relaxed. "It’s just... it’s become our routine. I love it. I love you."

"So cheesy," you chuckled, though your chest tightened with a sudden, overwhelming warmth. "But I love it too. And I love you more."

"Debatable," he muttered, a lazy smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Maybe you two were growing older, or maybe the fast-paced, loud chaos of his world just made these quiet, domestic anchors feel incredibly sacred. It’s the mundane things—the unglamorous, repetitive bits of love—that wind up building the safest spaces.

Your fingers worked with practiced, gentle skill. You used the tail of a comb to meticulously loosen the tightly woven patterns, mindful of the sensitive skin near his nape.

"Ouch—okay, gentle, tiger," Lewis winced slightly as you hit a particularly stubborn knot near the back. "I need that hair for the weekend."

"Oh, stop being a baby," you teased, lightly tapping his shoulder. "If you didn't leave the product in it for so long, it wouldn't be a bird's nest at the roots."

"It's a very expensive bird's nest," he shot back, his shoulders shaking with a silent laugh.

"Well, the expensive bird's nest is currently shedding all over my sweatpants," you retorted, though your hands never stopped their soothing, rhythmic motion.

As the braids unraveled, his hair began to puff out in tight, crimped waves, full of texture and volume. You ran your fingers through the newly freed sections, massaged his scalp with the pads of your fingers, and watched the tension leave his face entirely.

Lewis let his head fall completely back against your lap, staring up at the ceiling with a look of pure, unadulterated peace. The world outside could wait; right here, in the quiet swell of the music and the soft tangle of his hair, everything was exactly as it was meant to be.

oii. carlos sainz jr.

— cooking

The rhythmic thump-thump-thump of Carlos’s knife against the wooden cutting board was the heartbeat of the kitchen. In the background, a pot of water sent up a lazy, rolling simmer, a low hum that softened the quiet evening. You stood at the stove, gently turning over ingredients in a pan that filled the room with a rich, savory aroma—something that smelled so good it felt almost too perfect for a Tuesday night.

You shifted your weight, balancing like a flamingo with your left hand braced against the cool marble counter and one foot tucked against your opposite calf.

Suddenly, the rhythmic chopping stopped.

The abrupt silence made you glance over. Carlos was leaning against the counter, the knife resting idle beside a pile of perfectly diced onions. He was just looking at you. His eyes, warm and dark, held a distinct, soft sparkle of pure adoration.

"What?" you asked, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Can you pass me the salt?" You pointed with your wooden spoon toward the shaker sitting just behind him.

He reached back, grabbed it, and handed it over without once breaking eye contact. He just kept standing there, a soft smile playing on his face.

"Carlos," you said, shaking your head.

"Hm?" he hummed, the sound low in his chest.

"You're staring," you raised your eyebrows, tapping the spoon against the edge of the pan. "Do you need something? Am I burning it?"

"Nothing. No, it smells perfect," his smile widened, crinkling the corners of his eyes. "I... you look really good cooking."

You glanced down at yourself, let out a soft laugh, and gestured to your outfit. "Carlos, I'm wearing oversized gym shorts and a t-shirt that has a literal bleach stain on the hem. Mi cariño, what exactly is special about this?"

"I don't know," he said, his voice dropping into that quiet, grounded register he only used when it was just the two of you. "You're standing in my kitchen, making dinner. I love it."

He closed the distance between you, his footsteps quiet on the tiled floor. Stepping up behind you, he wrapped his arms securely around your waist, pulling your back flush against his chest. He smelled like garlic, clean laundry, and the faint, woody scent of his cologne.

"We do this almost every day now," you murmured, leaning back into his solid warmth but keeping an eye on the pan.

"And I love it every single day."

"Don't you ever get bored of it, though?" you asked. You tilted your head sideways, lifting your chin to look up at his jawline. "The routine of it all?"

"Do you?" he countered softly.

Before you could answer, he pressed a tender, lingering kiss into the crown of your head, then rested his chin right there, using you as his personal headrest.

"No," you admitted, your heart doing a familiar, happy flip. "I love cooking with you."

"And I love watching you do it," Carlos said, his arms tightening just a fraction around you, anchoring you both in the quiet, domestic safety of the room. "I love you."

"I love you more," you said, turning off the burner. "Now move your chin, giant, or we're going to be eating burnt garlic.”

iii. max verstappen

— grocery shopping

The fluorescent lights of the grocery store hummed a quiet, sterile tune, casting a bright glare over the polished linoleum floors.

Logically, you and Max didn't need to be here.

Max had a team of people who could orchestrate a full pantry restock with a single text message, but you had insisted. To you, love wasn’t just built in the quiet corners of his Monaco apartment or amidst the deafening roar of the paddock; it was built here, arguing over breakfast brands in the middle of a Wednesday afternoon. It was the only place where no one expected him to be a champion—just a guy holding a wire shopping cart.

Max had whined about it the whole way down, of course, offering a theatrical sigh as he grabbed a cart. But you knew him. You saw the way his shoulders dropped the moment you walked through the sliding glass doors, the way he subtly shielded you from the occasional wandering glance of a stranger. He loved the mundane reality of it just as much as you did.

Right now, you were anchored in the frozen aisle, standing before a wall of glass freezers lined with a colorful mosaic of frozen comfort food. You pulled open the heavy door, a rush of artificial winter spilling out against your skin. You reached in and grabbed a bag of dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets, a box of breakfast sausages, and a sleeve of frozen hash browns, stacking them neatly in your arms.

"We don't need all of that, schat," Max said from behind the cart, his hands loosely gripping the handlebar. He looked entirely out of place among the frozen peas and waffles, yet completely at home next to you.

"I don't need it, but you do," you countered, sliding the freezer door shut with your elbow before drifting toward the next section. "Have you seen the inside of your fridge lately? Because I have. It looks like a vending machine sponsored exclusively by Red Bull. It’s becoming hazardous to your health. What would your trainer say?"

Max let out a heavy, long-suffering sigh, rolling the cart a few inches closer to follow your steps. "And you think processed food is a health cure?"

"Don't complain," you smiled, opening another freezer door and unceremoniously tossing a pack of premium hot dogs into the cart. They landed with a dull thud right on top of the hash browns. "I know for a fact you eat these when you think I'm not looking."

Max opened his mouth to defend his honor, but the faint twitch at the corner of his lips betrayed him. He let out a soft huff, a quiet surrender. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever. They're efficient."

You let out a laugh—hearty, light, and completely unbothered by the chilly air of the aisle. It was a sound that seemed to cut right through his usual guarded exterior, and you watched the remaining tension leave his jaw. He melted, his expression softening into that private, boyish warmth he only ever showed you.

"You're very lucky I love you," he murmured, shaking his head as he nudged the cart forward, his eyes locked onto yours.

"I should hope so," you teased, turning around to face him fully, a playful glint in your eyes. "You did just asked me to marry you a few weeks ago. It would be a bit awkward if you changed your mind over frozen sausages."

Max rolled his eyes—a dramatic, harmless gesture—but the sudden, bright flash of the silver band on your finger caught the grocery store light, making him smile anyway.

"I love you," you added softly, your tone shifting from teasing to something deeply tender as you reached out to lightly tap the tip of his nose.

"I know," he said, catching your hand for just a brief second, his thumb brushing over your knuckles before letting go so you could keep scanning the shelves. He followed a step behind you, content to be the keeper of the cart, navigating the small, ordinary aisles of a life you were building together, one grocery trip at a time.

oiv. charles leclerc

— bathing leo

The quiet luxury of the bedroom was suddenly pierced by a very distinct, very un-luxurious aroma.

“Baby, you smell bad!” you dramatically exclaimed, extending your arms to lift Leo into the air before his fluffy, four-legged self could collapse onto your clean duvet. The little dog blinked innocently down at you, completely oblivious to the fact that he currently smelled like a walking diaper disaster. “Oh, sweetie, what did you roll in?”

“What? I literally just showered!” Charles’s voice echoed from the hallway, dripping with wounded pride.

You heard the distinct rustle of a wrapper—he was undoubtedly in the kitchen, hunting down his afternoon chocolate stash. A moment later, he walked into the bedroom, his brows furrowed in deep offense, a half-eaten bar of chocolate in hand.

“Not you,” you laughed, shifting the furry culprit so he was propped against your hip. “It’s Leo. I think he desperately needs a bath.”

Charles took one step closer, caught a whiff of the air, and visibly winced. “Ah. Mon dieu. Shit, I forgot to book his appointment at the groomer’s, didn't I?” He immediately fished his phone out of his pocket, his thumbs flying across the screen. “I’ll call them now. They can take him, surely.”

“Nah, don't bother,” you said, cooing softly at Leo, who was trying to lick your chin. “It’s already late, Charles. The vet and the groomers are probably closed by now anyway. It's totally fine, I can just wash him here.”

Charles paused, looking up from his phone with a frown. “Bébé, you don't need to do that. It’s a mess. He’s a nightmare when he’s wet.”

“C’mon, it’s just a little water,” you insisted, giving him a reassuring smile.

After a few more rounds of gentle arguing, Charles finally succumbed to your stubbornness. You marched into the master bathroom, armed with a tiny plastic basin you had painstakingly excavated from the depths of Charles’s hallway closet—a chaotic storage space filled with old racing trophies, random charging cables, and far too many unnecessary gadgets.

You set the basin in the center of the spacious shower, adjusted the water temperature until it was perfectly lukewarm, and gently lowered Leo into it. The moment the detachable shower head clicked on, the little dog froze, looking at you with the ultimate betrayal written all over his face.

Unbeknownst to you, Charles hadn't gone back to his chocolate. He was leaning casually against the marble doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, quietly watching the scene unfold.

He had seen you wash Leo once before, months ago, after a chaotic, muddy run through the park when the groomers were fully booked. Seeing you do it again now—completely unbothered by the impending mess, your sleeves rolled up, talking to the dog in that soft, ridiculous voice you only used at home—made something shift in his chest.

A heavy, sweet wave of adoration hit him so fast it almost made his knees weak. The fast-paced, loud, adrenaline-fueled chaos of his racing world completely faded into the background. This was the real stuff. It was so incredibly mundane, yet so profoundly grounding.

“Okay, buddy, just a little soap,” you murmured, massaging the puppy shampoo into his fur until he looked like a tiny, pathetic polar bear.

Suddenly, Leo tensed.

“No, no, Leo, don’t you dare—”

Before you could finish the sentence, the dog executed a violent, full-body shake. A torrential downpour of soapy water spray erupted across the bathroom, covering the glass mirrors, the tiled walls, and most notably, the entire front of your shirt.

“Non!” you gasped, throwing your hands up too late.

From the doorway, Charles let out a bright, melodic laugh that echoed off the tiles.

“You’re going to need a shower of your own after this,” he teased, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he walked over to hand you a dry towel.

You wiped a stray bubble off your cheek, shaking your head as you shot him a playful smirk. “Shame. You’ve already showered and changed.”

Charles stepped into the shower enclosure, completely unbothered by the wet floor. He wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, pressing his chest against your damp back, ignoring the fact that your shirt was soaked. He tilted his head down, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

“I will gladly take another shower just so I can join you,” he murmured against your skin, his voice dropping into a quiet, serious register that made your heart skip. “I love you like that. Mess and all.”

“Mhm? Is that an offer, Leclerc?” you chuckled, turning your head slightly to catch his lips.

“Always,” he whispered, smiling into the kiss while Leo whimpered below you, demanding to finally be dried off.

oov. george russell

— folding laundry

The low, rhythmic chime of the dryer signaled the end of its cycle, leaving a heavy, comforting silence in its wake. It was a Monday morning, the kind where the world outside felt entirely distant. Inside, the bedroom smelled deeply of lavender detergent and warm fabric.

You pulled the massive, plastic basket into the center of the room, tipping it over until a mountain of fresh laundry tumbled out onto the carpet—a warm, chaotic heap of cotton, linen, and soft knits.

George was sitting on the edge of the mattress, scrolling idly through his phone. He wasn't busy, a rare occurrence in his tightly scheduled life, so when he saw you drop down onto your knees to tackle the pile, he quietly slipped his phone into his pocket and slid down onto the floor beside you.

He had never really given much thought to the anatomy of a household chore. To him, laundry was a functional necessity, a task usually relegated to the background of his hyper-focused world. But as he sat there, picking up a rogue pair of socks, a sudden, heavy wave of warmth caught him entirely off guard.

There was a strange, poetic architecture to the scene. You were already in your element, efficiently turning a chaotic jumble of fabrics into neat, sharp-edged squares. You reached into the pile and pulled out one of his oversized, faded team t-shirts. Instead of folding it, you set it aside in a distinct, isolated pile on your left.

“George,” you called out softly, breaking his trance. He had been staring at your hands. “Can you hand me the other basket for the whites?”

He shook himself out of his daze, immediately reaching for the plastic handle. “Here. Actually, let me take over. I'll do them.”

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips as you took the basket. “No way. We can do it equally. Team effort, Russell.”

“I am highly efficient at folding,” he pointed out, his tone shifting into that signature, slightly posh, competitive register. “My straight lines are unmatched.”

“We’ll see about that,” you teased, tossing a crumpled pair of his sweatpants into his lap. “Prove it.”

For the next ten minutes, the bedroom was filled with the soft, rhythmic sounds of domesticity—the crisp snap of fabric being shaken out, the smooth slide of hands smoothing out wrinkles against the carpet, and the quiet sliding of the dresser drawers.

George watched you out of the corner of his eye. You were completely unbothered, sitting cross-legged in a pair of soft shorts and a sweatshirt that you had undoubtedly stolen from his closet six months ago. As you leaned forward to organize his sweater drawer, sliding his knits by color, the domestic safety of the moment hit him again, sharper this time.

“You look incredibly pretty,” he blurted out. The words left his mouth entirely without his permission, completely bypassing his usual analytical filter.

You paused, a half-folded polo shirt suspended in your hands. You turned your head, looking at him with an amused, raised eyebrow.

“Thank you. You’re not bad yourself,” you teased, nudging his knee with your foot. When his expression remained intensely earnest, your smile softened. “I’m kidding, handsome. What’s with the random compliment?”

“Nothing,” George said, his voice dropping into a quieter, more grounded register. He rested his forearms on his knees, a pair of folded boxer shorts still held loosely in his hand. “You just look really... homey. Sitting there, folding my clothes and arranging them like it’s the most natural thing in the world. I don't know. It caught me by surprise.”

You chuckled, a warm, hearty sound that echoed softly against the wooden furniture. You set the polo shirt into the drawer, smoothing the collar down. “So, seeing me handle your laundry is highly romantic to you, is it? Good to know my domestic skills are so deeply appreciated.”

“Extremely,” he insisted, a boyish, un-studied smile breaking across his face. The rigid, professional posture he held at the racetrack was completely gone, replaced by a soft, relaxed slouch that he only ever used when it was just the two of you. “It’s very special.”

“Very special, huh?” You smiled, turning back to the mountain of clothes. You reached for the isolated pile on your left—the one containing his oversized t-shirt—and moved it a few inches further away from his reach.

George’s eyes tracked the movement. He frowned slightly, his analytical brain immediately spotting the anomaly. “Wait a minute. Why is that shirt going over there? That’s my favorite grey one.”

“It was your favorite grey one,” you corrected smoothly, not even looking up as you picked up a pair of socks. “It is now my official bedtime shirt for the week. The fabric has reached peak softness.”

“That is blatant structural theft,” George laughed, reaching across the pile to try and reclaim it. “I’m helping you fold, and you’re actively robbing my wardrobe in broad daylight.”

“It’s the tax for my labor,” you shot back, slapping his hand away playfully. “Consider it a rental fee.”

He let out a soft huff, surrendering immediately as he sat back on his heels. He didn't care about the shirt; in fact, there was a ridiculous sense of pride that came with seeing you swim in his clothes. He watched you tuck the stolen prize safely away.

“I love you so much,” he murmured, the teasing tone evaporating into something profoundly tender. His eyes were locked onto yours, completely steady.

You paused, holding a pair of rolled-up socks, matching his gaze. The playful air between you softened into something quiet and sacred.

“I love you so much more,” you challenged softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Statistically impossible,” George replied, a faint, adoring smirk returning to his lips as he reached into the basket for the very last piece of clothing. “But I’ll let you believe it for now.”

ovi. lando norris

— eating breakfast

The rhythmic click-clack of a computer keyboard and the neon glow of dual monitors used to be Lando’s entire definition of a late night—and conversely, the reason his mornings barely existed. Before you, breakfast wasn't a meal; it was a conceptual myth. He woke up far too late for his manager’s liking and well past his trainer’s patience, usually rolled out of bed with dry eyes from staring at his PC until 4:00 AM, playing whatever game Max Fewtrell had dragged him into.

Now, he was sitting fully conscious at a solid oak dining table he couldn’t actually remember ever using for its intended purpose, eating actual food with you.

He had woken up early—not because of a screaming phone alarm or a demanding schedule, but because the warm, buttery aroma of toast and brewing tea had drifted into the bedroom and gently nudged him awake. Bleary-eyed and pulling a hoodie over his head, he had padded down the hallway to find you in his kitchen. You were completely barefoot on the cool tiles, wearing nothing but one of his oversized team shirts that swallowed your frame and pooled halfway down your thighs.

Watching you stand there, completely at ease in his space, a sudden, quiet epiphany had struck him right in the chest: You needed to live here. It wasn't just about the luxury of a home-cooked meal; it was the realization that he wanted you anchored in his life on this exact level. He wanted the ordinary, unglamorous, beautiful routine of sharing an apartment with you, talking about absolutely nothing and everything all at once while navigating the quiet corners of a normal day.

“You're up early,” you said, turning around with a wooden spatula in hand and offering him a soft, sleepy smile. “Did the kitchen noises wake you? I'm sorry.”

“Don't apologize,” Lando murmured, his voice incredibly groggy, deep with sleep as he pulled out a chair and slumped into it. He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to blink away the haze. “Smells amazing, honestly.”

“Thank you,” you said, a happy little lilt in your voice as you plated up the eggs. “Tea?”

Lando blinked. He honestly couldn't remember the last time he’d willingly consumed tea in the morning. Usually, his breakfast consisted of a cold, neon-green liquid from a can that probably defied several health codes.

“Yes, please,” he smiled, the sleepiness in his eyes melting into pure warmth as he looked at you. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, baby,” you replied smoothly, pouring the hot water into a mug.

That first morning had been the catalyst. After that, Lando made sure you were in his Monaco apartment every single chance he got, counting down the days between race weekends just to get back to this specific quietness.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the apartment began to shift. The welcome mat by the front door, which had spent years greeting only one pair of muddy sneakers, now held a second, much smaller pair of slides. The ceramic cup in the bathroom that used to hold just his lonely electric toothbrush was now tangled up with yours. Even the refrigerator, which had previously looked like a commercial storage unit sponsored exclusively by energy drinks, was suddenly stocked with actual, perishable groceries, vegetables, and milk that hadn't expired three months ago.

He loved every single bit of it. For a guy whose life moved at two hundred miles an hour surrounded by screaming engines and constant public scrutiny, this quiet, ordinary domesticity was the ultimate luxury. He trusted you completely, and the changes you brought into his world didn't feel like a compromise—they felt like coming home.

Lando watched you set the steaming mug of tea in front of him, followed by a plate of perfectly done eggs and toast. He reached out, his fingers catching your wrist gently before you could pull away, tugging you just enough so you’d lean down. He pressed a warm, lingering kiss to your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin.

“What’s this for?” you asked, a playful smile tucking at the corners of your lips.

“Just making sure you’re real,” Lando teased, his voice finally losing its morning gravel. He picked up his fork but kept his eyes locked on yours. “And to make sure you aren't going to charge me a service fee for the tea.”

“Oh, the tea is free,” you chuckled, reaching over to ruffle his messy, uncombed curls. “But if you stay up until 4:00 AM on the simulator again tonight, I’m locking you out of the kitchen tomorrow.”

Lando let out a bright, boyish laugh, pulling you a little closer by the waist of his oversized shirt. “Deal. But only if I get a bite of your toast right now.”

vii. oscar piastri

— watering plants and flowers

Oscar’s apartment used to look less like a home and more like a high-end corporate waiting room. It was a study in aggressive minimalism—stark grey lines, industrial concrete, and furniture that seemed designed more for architectural symmetry than actual human bodies. He had never taken the time to decorate it; he simply didn't possess the domestic bandwidth. Even his sister, Hattie, had once staged a minor intervention, pacing through his living room and threatening to forcibly mail him a colorful rug because the sheer, unyielding bleakness of the space was "painful to look at." Oscar had just shrugged, entirely content with his empty shelves.

Then, came you.

You arrived with a quiet, stubborn mission fueled by soil, greenery, and an abundance of fresh flowers. Before you officially moved in, you began staging a slow, hostile takeover of his minimalist haven, one small pot at a time. Every time you visited, you’d slip a new plant onto a bare surface—resilient, low-maintenance varieties that could survive on nothing but pure spite, clean water, and the faint glow of the LED strip lights beneath his kitchen cabinets.

When the day finally came for you to officially unpack your bags, you brought out the big guns.

Suddenly, the cold corners of the living room were anchored by massive, leafy Monsteras that stretched toward the ceiling. The concrete balcony became a cascading waterfall of hanging pothos, their vines dancing in the Monaco breeze. Delicate orchids appeared on the dining table and the sleek marble coffee table, their structured blooms mirroring his love for precision, while a vase of vibrant tulips sat permanently on your bedside table, catching the morning sun.

But the undisputed crown jewel of the entire collection sat squarely on his bedside table: a small, dark ceramic pot holding a single, meticulously nurtured hibiscus plant. It was the moving-in gift you had ceremoniously handed him, and despite Oscar’s usual hands-off approach to nature, he took agonizingly great care of it. He checked the soil moisture with the gravity of a race engineer analyzing telemetry data. He loved it fiercely.

Lately, Oscar’s absolute favorite thing to do when the racing world paused was simply to sit and watch you tend to your kingdom. There was something profoundly hypnotic about the way you moved from room to room with your small, copper watering can. The fast-paced, high-adrenaline chaos of the paddock—the screaming engines, the media scrums, the constant pressure—all of it completely evaporated against the quiet, rhythmic sound of water hitting soil. It made him feel entirely grounded. He had lived in this apartment for a long time, but it wasn't until he watched you meticulously wipe dust off a broad green leaf that he realized he was finally home.

He had never imagined that something so intensely mundane could become the anchor of his entire week.

“Did you water Mrs. Hibby?” your voice drifted in from the balcony, light and slightly muffled by the glass door.

Mrs. Hibby was, of course, the bedside hibiscus. You had christened the plant on day one, a naming convention that Oscar had initially resisted with a look of pure, deadpan horror. He had complained that calling a flower 'Mrs. Hibby' made him feel like he was trying to get it with an elderly schoolteacher, but like the rest of the greenery, the name had stubbornly grown on him.

“Already did, baby,” Oscar called back, his deep, relaxed Australian drawl cutting through the quiet apartment. He was stretched out on the couch, his long legs draped over the armrest, his eyes tracking you as you stepped inside.

“And did she get any sun—” you started, tilting your head as you nudged a stray strand of hair away from your forehead with the back of your hand.

“Yep,” he cut in smoothly, a faint, knowing smirk playing on his lips. “Gave her twenty minutes of direct morning light right by the window, checked the drainage, and gave her a polite nod of encouragement. She’s thriving.”

You let out a soft, melodic chuckle, stepping closer to the couch and setting the copper watering can down on the floor. “A polite nod? Wow. You’re really leaning into the plant-dad persona, Piastri.”

“I have a reputation to uphold,” he murmured, reaching out and catching your wrist as you stepped past him. With a gentle, effortless tug, he pulled you down onto the couch, adjusting his position until you were tucked securely against his chest, your back resting against his ribs.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling the sweet, fresh scent of your shampoo mixed with the earthy fragrance of wet soil.

“You know,” you said softly, your fingers tracing the edge of his forearm where it rested against your stomach, “Hattie called me yesterday. She wanted to know if the apartment still looked like an underground bunker.”

Oscar let out a quiet huff of a laugh, his chest vibrating against your back. “And what did you tell her?”

“I told her it’s a jungle now. I told her her brother spends his mornings talking to a tropical flower.”

“I don’t talk to her,” Oscar corrected defensively, though the crinkles at the corners of his eyes betrayed his smile. “We just have a mutual understanding. She stays alive, and I don’t get yelled at by you.”

“Mhm. Sound strategy,” you teased, turning your head slightly so you could look up at his sharp jawline.

Oscar shifted, his gaze dropping to meet yours. The playful sarcasm in his dark eyes softened, melting into that private, fiercely protective warmth he only ever reserved for the quiet spaces inside these four walls. He leaned down, pressing a tender, lingering kiss to your lips—soft and unhurried.

“Thank you,” he whispered against your mouth, his arms tightening just a fraction around you, anchoring you both in the warm, sunlit safety of the room.

“For what?” you asked, your voice barely a breath.

“For bringing some color in here,” Oscar murmured, his eyes scanning the vibrant room before settling back onto your face. “For making it real.”

viii. oliver bearman

— reading

Reading had never been high on Oliver Bearman’s list of priorities. In fact, it usually ranked somewhere between sitting through data telemetry meetings and watching paint dry. If things got boring, his immediate reflex was to look for a steering wheel, a simulator, or at the very least, a video game controller. Pages of dense, unmoving text just couldn't compete with a life lived at two hundred miles an hour.

But then, the universe decided to shift gears during the British Grand Prix at Silverstone.

The Haas garage was its usual symphony of controlled chaos—air guns whining, mechanics shouting over the roar of engines, and engineers staring intensely at banks of monitors. Yet, tucked away in the furthest, quietest corner of the garage, sat an entirely unfamiliar face. You were completely oblivious to the high-stakes madness around you, your knees tucked up to your chest, your nose buried so deeply in a paperback book that the rest of the world might as well not have existed.

As it turned out, your mum was one of the senior trackside engineers, and you had tagged along to visit her at work. Ollie had spotted you the second he walked into the garage, and for a moment, his racing brain completely locked up. You looked so entirely peaceful amidst the roaring machinery. When you finally left later that afternoon, you accidentally dropped your bookmark—a simple, slightly frayed piece of cardstock covered in little painted wildflowers.

Instead of doing the sensible thing and just handing it to your mum to give back to you, Ollie had been stubbornly persistent. He tracked your mum down under the guise of "just being a helpful, polite guy," asking around for your contact information or if you'd be coming back the next day. Your mum, utterly charmed by his polite, boyish demeanor, assumed he was just being an extraordinarily friendly driver welcoming a colleague's family. She had absolutely no idea that Ollie had been completely captivated from the exact moment his eyes landed on you.

It took a year of slow-burning text messages, shared book recommendations that Ollie secretly struggled through just to have something to talk to you about, and a patient, quiet courtship. He waited for you to see him as more than just her mum's polite young driver. He waited until you finally loved him back.

Now, a year into being yours, the fast-paced world of his felt miles away from the quiet sanctuary of his apartment. The rain was drumming a soft, rhythmic beat against the windowpanes, matching the low hum of the city outside, but inside, everything was warm.

You were both squeezed onto his too-small couch, tangled together in a messy, comfortable heap. You were lying on your side, the heavy hardcover book propped up in your hands, while Ollie was molded perfectly against your back. His long arm was draped heavily over your waist, anchoring you to him, his thumb drawing slow, absentminded circles against the bare skin exposed by the hem of your sweatshirt. His chin was resting right on top of your head, his dark curls mingling with yours, his eyes tracking the lines of text simultaneously with yours. He was supposed to be reading along, but his focus kept fracturing, slipping from the printed words to the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest, to the soothing cadence of your voice vibrating against his torso.

“You’re not even processing what we’re reading, are you?” you accused him softly, pausing mid-sentence. You tilted your head back slightly, looking up at him with a knowing, playful smirk.

Caught red-handed, Ollie didn't even try to deny it. A sheepish, boyish smile spread across his face, his eyes crinkling at the corners. You were right, of course. The last three paragraphs had been a total blur of syllables that meant absolutely nothing to him. But he couldn't bring himself to care. The sound of your voice reading aloud was a melody he never wanted to turn off; it was a gentle, grounding anchor that could effortlessly send him straight to cloud nine after a grueling week on the track.

“I love your voice,” he reacted, his voice dropping into a calm, quiet register that felt almost foreign compared to his usual upbeat, energetic tone. It was a soft, vulnerable admission, heavy with the comfort of being entirely at ease.

“Just my voice?” you teased, a soft chuckle bubbling up from your chest as you nudged his arm with your elbow.

Ollie’s smile softened, turning into something profoundly tender. His arm tightened around your waist, pulling you just a fraction closer against him, solid and real. He leaned down, pressing a lingering, warm kiss into the crown of your head, letting his lips rest there for a quiet beat before he spoke.

“I love you. You know that.”

The tease melted away from your expression, replaced by a warm, private sweetness that only ever bloomed when it was just the two of you in the quiet spaces of his home. You rested your hand over his where it lay on your stomach, your fingers interlacing with his.

“I know,” you murmured softly, turning your head just enough to catch the edge of his jawline with a tender smile. “I love you, too, Mr. Bearman.”

ix. andrea kimi antonelli

— cleaning

Cleaning from top to bottom was a sacred, albeit exhausting, monthly ritual inside the sun-warmed walls of the apartment you shared with Kimi in San Marino. It was a chore born out of necessity, but over time, it had evolved into something entirely yours—a rhythm of spray bottles, damp rags, and bare feet sliding across freshly scrubbed tiles.

You and Kimi had known each other since the diaper days, a lifelong bond forged by fate and the fact that your parents were practically attached at the hip. For a long time, you were just an inseparable duo, the best friends who shared secrets and scrapes. But somewhere between the clumsy growing pains of adolescence and the quiet realization of adulthood, the lines had shifted. The comfortable gravity of friendship deepened, pulling you both into something profoundly romantic, soft, and lovely.

Growing up, whenever your families would escape to the coast to the summer home your parents had built together, the chore assignments were always entirely predictable. You and Kimi were invariably banished to the living room and hallways, tasked with scrubbing every baseboard until it gleamed, while the adults held court in the kitchen, seasoning the grill, and prepping the pool and hot tub. Back then, the coast trips were heralded by the sounds of the two of you aggressively whining, dragging your feet, and turning a simple dusting session into a dramatic, coordinated protest.

But now? Now, you were doing it entirely willingly. There was no parental oversight, no grumbling over unfair divisions of labor. You had chosen a life of independent together-ness, and taking care of these few square meters of the world felt less like work and more like a quiet celebration of the home you were building.

The deep, melancholic swell of Hozier was blasting from the Bluetooth speakers, a familiar fixture from your personal playlist that Kimi had grown to secretly love, even if he pretended to only tolerate it. You were currently armed with a microfiber cloth, aggressively wiping down the surface of the coffee table, while Kimi was leaning on the handle of the mop, supposedly tackling the hallway but mostly just watching you move.

The transition from cleaning to chaos happened entirely without warning. As the melody shifted into a slow, sweeping rhythm, Kimi dropped the mop against the wall with a hollow clack. He sauntered over, his heavy socks sliding effortlessly across the slick floor, and caught you by the waist before you could finish polishing the wooden surface.

"Oh, so we're abandoning our responsibilities now?" you teased, though you didn't pull away as he tucked your hand into his.

"Just taking a mandated union break," Kimi murmured, a soft smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

He didn't wait for your approval. With a sudden, playful burst of energy, he pulled you into his chest, counting a completely fabricated rhythm under his breath as he began to lead you in a clumsy, slow dance. The space between the sofa and the television became your ballroom. Kimi guided you with a theatrical flourish, his hand firm on your back as he twirled you around, the fabric of your oversized t-shirt swirling around your thighs. You were laughing now, the breathless, genuine kind of giggle that always bubbled up whenever he let his guarded, quiet demeanor slip into something entirely silly.

Emboldened by his own rhythm, Kimi grinned, his eyes sparkling with a sudden, competitive spark. "Hold on," he warned.

"Kimi, wait—"

Before you could brace yourself, he attempted a dramatic, sweeping dip. The execution, however, lacked structural integrity. His sock lost its grip on the freshly polished tile, his knees buckled slightly under the sudden shift in weight, and instead of a breathtaking, cinematic swoop, the two of you went down in a tangled, undignified heap. The living room rug cushioned the blow, but the sheer gravity of the failure had you gasping for air from laughter.

"Absolutely terrible," you gasped, resting your forearm over your eyes as you lay flat on your back, your shoulders shaking. "I am deeply offended. You cannot dip me to save your life."

"I absolutely can!" Kimi retorted defensively, sitting up and brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. He looked entirely unbothered by his bruised ego, a boyish, stubborn grin spreading across his face. "That was a practice run. The floor is a hazard zone."

To prove his point, he scrambled back to his feet, stretching a hand down to you. You took it, letting him hoist you back up into his space. Your feet had barely found their footing before he pulled you flush against him again.

"Watch and learn," he whispered.

This time, his footing was secure. With a deliberate, smooth sweep of his leg, he leaned you back over his arm. It was a perfect, steady dip—the kind that suspended you in mid-air, your heart doing a familiar, dizzying flip as you looked up at him. Your hair brushed the floor, but you felt entirely weightless, anchored completely by the solid, unwavering grip of his arm around your waist.

"See? I told you I could," he said, his voice dropping into that quiet, private register reserved only for the space between the two of you.

Before you could offer a witty comeback, Kimi leaned down, and his lips found yours. Your arms instinctively found their way around his neck, fingers tangling into the short hairs at the nape of his neck to pull him closer. The playful energy of the living room instantly softened, melting into something deeply romantic and tender. The music continued to hum in the background, a beautiful soundtrack to a completely ordinary afternoon, but right there, suspended in his arms on a half-cleaned floor, everything felt perfectly, beautifully still.

user IM SORRY BUT THOSE NAMES ARE KIND OF CUTE

user "she's says they are all ladies and need names because of it" 🤧🤧🤧 stop bc why is she so cute

user okay but like... what names are which cars 👀👀👀

user i think bertha is the land rover

user oh it HAS to be 🤣

user ARE WE JUST IGNORING THE FACT HE SAID "OUR CARS" AND NOT "HIS CARS"

user no bc the way i ascended after he said that 😳

user is dolly suppose to be like "dolly parton"?????

user well knowing that yn loves dolly and has inspired some of her austin looks after dolly... i wouldn't be surprised lol

user heather is so cvnty 🤏🤏🤏

user OMG YN LIKED THE VIDEO 🤯🤯🤯

user OUR CARSSSSSSSSSS 😭😭😭

user what did she name his f1 cars????

user he didn't say but i bet the mcl40 is called "little bitch"

📅 may 30, 2026

f1gossipofficial lando appeared on max fewtrell's stream along with max's girlfriend pietra pilao tonight. at some point fans were asking about y/n and where she was at and if she would be joining.

LN : "is y/n joining?" no, y/n is resting right now, i know you all have been curious about where's she's been, but she's fine. just taking a little break.

LN : "we miss her." if you miss her just go watch her videos – that's what i do when i miss her.

MF : you guys are attached at the hip though, mate.

LN : no, we spend time apart [sometimes], and so when i miss her, i watch her videos.

View all 8,467 comments

user STOPP 😭😭😭 not him telling us to go watch her videos if we miss her 😭😭😭😭

user yoooooooooo lando is such a SIMP

user what could she possibly be resting from 🤨 seems a little sus to me

user omg is she resting cause she's pregnant????

user oh lord don't even start with this 🙄🙄

user omg i hope she is 🤗 a little norris would be SO cute from them

user wait didn't she appear on the live for a few minutes tho?????????

user WAIT WHAT???? DID SHE??? WHEN??????

user it was like brief bc you can just BARELY hear lando talking to her

user you sure???

user i'm like 99.9% sure i heard her voice for a moment

user i just know that if yn was playing poker with them she would have beat all of them 😤😤😤😤

📅 june 3, 2026

clip #1 – lando teasing yn while they try to take a picture 🤧🤧🤧

you and lando are standing together, his arm around you and pulling you flush against him. the camera zooms out a little bit to show that there are several more people recording and taking pictures of the two of you.

you are looking at mclaren team member smiling as they take pictures. lando; however, is not looking and instead smiling down at you. when you glance up to meet his eyes, you immediately roll your eyes at him.

"lan! look at the camera, you dork!" you huff out which makes a few people around you both laugh. lando smiles at you, his arm around your waist moves so his hand is flat against your stomach.

"this is taking too long," he's heard mumbling before he's looking from you to the camera, finally, and allowing the mclaren member to take a few pictures of you both.

when you get your phone back, lando is still standing behind you – holding you close and you look at the pictures together.

"you look pretty goofy just smiling at me in this one," you tease as the camera recording you zooms in closer on you and lando.

the suddenly, the camera catches right as lando's hands grab at your waist and presumably squeeze them. you let out a small shriek, jerking away from lando. the british driver is caught laughing as an angry pout takes over your lips.

"you're soooooo not funny, mister," you say, but letting him pull you back closer to him. the video suddenly cutting off there.

💬 comments :

👤 : oh he was full on teasing her 🤭 i love them so much

👤 : the pout she gave him when grabbed her waist to tickle her 🤣 sorry for laughing at your pain girl 🤣

👤 : HIS HAND ON HER STOMACH

👤 : i love how they act like there's never any cameras around them

👤 : oh god could she be anymore cringe 💀 can't believe mclaren actually invited her as a guest 🙄 guess fucking a driver can really get you anything

♫ Black Eyed Peas · Don't Phunk With My Heart

cherryn 🍊1️⃣0️⃣0️⃣0️⃣🍊 mclarenf1 lando oscarpiastri

View all 721,289 comments

lando 🧡🧡🧡 liked by author

lando so glad i got to spend this day with you ☺️

cherryn will def remember it 🥰

mclarenf1 glad you got to join us 🙌

cherryn thank you for inviting meeeeeeee

lnfour orange always looks great on you ma'am

cherryn ☺️☺️☺️

oscarpiastri glad to see you 🙂

cherryn STOP NOT THAT EMOJI AGAIN 🥹

cherryn 🫶🫶🫶🫶 (btw)

user once again laughing at how yn hates when oscar uses that emoji lmao

user its a constant battle for her 🤣🤣

ari.archive my wife lookin so sexyyyyyy in that first pic

cherryn thanks babe 💋

nicolepiastri looking very pretty 🧡

cherryn thank youuuuu can't wait to see you and lily 🫶

user THE FIRST SLIDE 😍 POSING WITH LANDO'S HELMET STOPPP

user i love that she attended the mclaren event 🧡

user OUR QUEEN IS BACKKKKKKKKK

user war is over 🥲🥲 didn't realize how much i missed her until just know

user why is no one talking about the last slide 🤣🤣🤣🤣

user yn is so iconic for that

user the all orange photodump is soooooo 🤌🤌🤌

user MOTHERRRRRRRRRRRR WE'VE MISSED YOU SO MUCH

user the etsy witch worked 😭

user what did you get an etsy witch for???

user to summon yn back online 😇

user i... don't think that's how etsy witches work

📅 june 4, 2026

clip #2 – YN IS WEARING LANDO'S MIAMI '25 HELMET 😭😭😭😭

when the clip starts, it catches you still on the back of lando's scooter – arms wrapped around his waist as you are holding on to him.

however, what catches the attention of fans around you two is that both you and lando are wearing two of his older helmets. lando wearing his hungary gp helmet from 2024 and you–

wearing his disco miami helmet from last year.

"omg her outfit is so cute!" a fan is heard saying right as the camera zooms in on your outfit as you step off the scooter and begin to take the helmet off.

you are filmed walking behind lando, his bodyguard, rich, walking next to you as he's holding lando's helmet. you are still holding the disco helmet in one hand, other hand coming up to fix your hair as you are seen chatting with rich.

your chanel crossbody bounces against your hip as you walk, hugging the helmet close as you wave to a few fans who shout your name. the hangyodon keychain suddenly appearing has a few fans gasping over how cute it looks with the chanel bag.

"I LOVE YOU Y/N!!" someone shouts loudly causing you to laugh as you turn to look in the direction it came from. at the moment, lando is seen turning his head as well before he's slowly down so he's right next now. you smile up at your boyfriend as you say something which makes him smile and laugh in response.

right before the clip ends, you walk past the person filming as they zoom in on you – trying to get a better look at you and also managing to catch the bedazzled 'juicy' written across the back of your shorts.

"SHE'S WEARING THE JUICY–"

💬 comments :

👤 : wait that's so cute that she wears his helmets too 😭😭

👤 : THE JUICY SHORTSSSSSSS SHE'S BACK MY QUEEN

👤 : omg this is my FAVORITE media day outfit of hers – i just love how casual it is

👤 : NOT YN WEARING HER FAVORITE HELMET FROM LAST SEASON LANDOOOOOO WE SEE YOU BOIIIIIIII

👤 : omg yn riding with lando on his scooter 🥺🥺 its giving toto and susie imo

👤 : a second day with a flowy top is she trying to hide something 👀

👤 : okay but like... why is she glowing more than usual????

clip #3 – yn leaving media day early????

the clip starts off zooming in on you and lando walking together, his hand resting on your waist. as you are seen nearing the exit gates, you stop to turn to lando who immediately leans over to kiss you. you happily bouncing on the balls of your feet as you kiss him back.

you pull away first, saying something to him as your hands casually run up his arms before he's kissing you one more time. you step away from him fully afterwards, smiling and waving at lando before you're turning and continuing to head towards the exit gates.

lando stands in the same spot, watching you walk away. the camera moves to try and find you in the crowd before panning back to lando who is still in the same spot. still watching you, and its assumed that when he moves it's because he can no longer see you.

the clip ends right as lando starts to walk back towards the direction of the mclaren hospitality.

💬 comments :

👤 : she doesn't usually leave early i hope she's okay

👤 : i wonder if she's going to spend time with her friend or something!

👤 : she probs just wanted to get pictures of lando and spend time with him before he did his media stuff – he's been pretty busy this past week so i assume they wanted time together

clip #4 – yn spotted on a yacht with her friend ari 🛥️👙☀️

the clip starts off panning over the water – lots of different boats scattered around the sea before its slowly zooming in on one specific yacht.

there – on the deck laid you and your friend ari sunbathing and enjoying warm weather. you were on your back while ari as on her stomach, scrolling on her phone. the two of you talking back and forth rather animatedly.

you are then seen getting up and heading slightly out of view of the camera before coming back to two waters and a bowl of something – easily setting it between you and ari. the two of you sitting across from each other as you chat and eat, you scrolling through your phone even before the clip suddenly cuts.

💬 comments :

👤 : she left media day to go sunbath on a yacht 💀

👤 : why does it look like she gained weight??? she better be carefully before lando leaves her 🤭

👤 : literally so glad that ari is with yn this week ☺️ esp since she's surrounded by lando's friends 😒

👤 : interesting how they didn't bother to invite p 🤨 especially since ari is also staying with yn and lando like max and p are 💀

👤 : i think you all need to get over the fact that yn and p just aren't going to be best friends like how you all want them to be – yn doesn't need to invite her boyfriend's best friend's gf to hangout when its clear she just wants to spend time with her own friend bsfr

👤 : okay but that break she took last week seemed to really help – she's glowing ✨

clip #5 – lando joining yn and her friend on the yacht after media day

the clip is short and shot from far away – the further it zooms in, the grainy the picture becomes.

however, its quite clear that lando is on the yacht and now in more casual than what he was wearing earlier in the day. you are also spotted sitting between his legs your body front pressed flush against his side.

the clip catches the exact moment lando captures your lips in a kiss. the setting sun painting the two of you in a grainy orange color before you're pulling away cuddling up into his chest.

the camera then briefly catches lando's hand resting against your stomach before quickly moving to rest on your thigh before the clip suddenly ends.

💬 comments :

👤 : whoa what was the hand placement at the end???

👤 : omgggggg my parents spending time together 🥺 i hope this race goes well for lando

👤 : you guys can't tell me she's not pregnant!! just LOOK at how lando puts his hand on her stomach 😳🤯

👤 : that kiss 🥺🥺🥺🥺 my fav grid couple everrrrr

👤 : great 😒 just another moment of f1 drivers calling the paps to take pictures of them 🙄 what a joke this sport as become

♫ TWICE · Ocean Deep

cherryn shabang 🌊☀️🦐

View all 749,390 comments

lando soaking up my pretty girl ☀️😎

cherryn 🫣

ari.archive honestly my favorite day in a while 💙

cherryn glad you had fun my love 💙

valentinexx YOU GUYS WENT ON A YACHT???? THATS IT NEXT YEAR IM GOING TO MONACO 😤😤

cherryn girlllllll why you acting like you can't just come visit???

valentinexx bc you and lando are constantly being gross and do NOT wish to get scarred again 😵

lando not our fault you don't know how to knock 🙄

valentinexx HEY!!! stay out of this 🫵🫵🫵

user what did valentina see 👁️👄👁️

rebeccadonaldson so pretty 💕

lilyzneimer 💕💕

kikagomes so pretty you don't even need to look at the camera 😳

cherryn you this smooth with pierre or just me 😜

kikagomes just you 😉🫶

user will NEVER get over when she posts pictures with her friends – literally my fav friend group ever

user song choice EATSSSSS as always queen liked by author

user ngl this is my fav genre of yn

ynupdates y/n's nail tech yayamonaconails just posted a several different nails she's done this week from clinets requesting the "y/n nails" which started back in monaco '24 when fans of y/n go to monaco in order to get their nails done at the same nail tech.

apparently, last year so many fans had made appoints that y/n was unable to make her own appointment but was able to get a last minute opening before quali day.

📷 credits to yayamonaconails

View all 6,290 comments

user wow some of you all just looooooove reheating yn's nachos huh?? some of these are a little too similar to her past nails

user wow glad yn is able to bring in business for her nail tech!

user omg i remember when that happened last year! yn had to do her own nails until she was able to get that appointment

user sooooo anyone else wondering how that "last minute" appointment 🤨

user i'll give you one guess and it starts with an L

user UGH those nails are so cute 😫 i'm so jealous of the people who get to go to monaco and get their nails done there

user will forever be jealous of monaco for having such an iconic woman living in it 😭 that place is too BORING for a whimsy girl like her

user lol couldn't agree more – that's probs why lando drags her everywhere when he travels

user i love the nails but only because i know who the inspo was for them – wish ppl could be original that's the whole point of yn's fashion content is be original and not copy 😔

📅 june 5, 2026

cherryn and ari.archive updated their stories !

♫ LE SSERAFIM · Saki (feat. Aliyah's Interlude)

cherryn 1-800-you-fucking-wish 🦷✨

View all 865,622 comments

lando 🔥🔥🔥🔥 liked by author

ari.archive omg who are those hot chicks in slide 7 🤭

withmia girl we know if probs took you 7 minutes to find a pose

ari.archive hater 😒

riabish glad we got to hangout 😍

cherryn absolutely ❤️

lnfour who the heck's saki 🤭 liked by author

user IS ADMIN A FEARNOT

hattiepiastri oh we need to go see le sserafim together

cherryn we doooooooooo 💕

user AND YOU ARE THAT GIRL YN 💕

user to have the talent you do to take pictures 😔

user LOVE FROM BRAZIL

user will always be jealous of your life girl

user I LOVE YOU YN ❤️

user i wonder if between hattie and yn if oscar is a k-pop fan yet lmaoooooo

user or a country fan based off what lando has says his music taste is

user THAT TOO

user oscar, the country k-pop fan 🤔

user girl just tell us if you're pregnant or not 🙄

user that's fucking weird of you to say i hope you know that

clip #6 – LANDO AND YN ARE ON A DATE 😍😍😍 YN LOOKS SO PRETTY

the clip starts with filming you and lando in his mclaren spider as he's driving down the street. through the windshield, its obvious that you and lando are dressed up as the mclaren drives past the person recording.

it cuts to a different clip to now show you and lando outside a restaurant and getting out of the car. the valet opening the door for you and you thanking them as you step out and turn to see lando coming up next to you. his hand immediately finding your waist as he guides you inside.

the clip then cuts for a third time, zooming in on you and lando sitting at a table together. you talking while lando is listening – nodding along while eating. a waiter then comes by and quickly refills your water before leaving, you take a sip before getting a bite of food as lando says something. his hand reaching across the table in order to hold yours, his thumb rubbing across your knuckles.

💬 comments :

👤 : stop cause that green dress looks so pretty on her

👤 : IS SHE DRINKING WATER???? OMG SHE IS PREGNANT

👤 : the way i literally just stumbled when i saw her in that dress

👤 : lando can't fight us all

👤 : can we please NOT film the two of them in public 😭

👤 : i find it SO funny how the two of them just left all their guests at their apartment to go on a date... honestly i don't blame them either lol

👤 : i wonder what name she gave this car 😍

👤 : oh i just know they fucked when they got home – i just can't prove it

📅 june 6, 2026

cherry just updated their story !

♫ Mitsuto Suzuki & Square Enix Music · Speed Demon

replies

lando nerrrrrrddd 🤓🫵

cherryn might be a nerd but remember you addicted to this nerdy 🐱

cherryn i would be nice to me if you still want it after this weekend 😁

lando damn 😔 i was just joking baby

user OMG IM SO EXCITEDDDDDDD

user and i'm once again constantly reminded that you're a NERD 😍 a hot and sexyyyy one

user FINAL FANTASY ANNNNNND RESIDENT EVIL 😍 YOU KNOW JUST THE WAY TO MY HEART

user ❤️❤️❤️❤️

clip #7 – lando walking with yn into hospitality after fp3

the clips starts off showing you and lando walking next to each other. lando – still in his race suit – has his hand resting on your shoulder as he easily guides the two of you through the crowd.

some fans passing by ask for a quick autograph and picture, which lando does before waving to the fans as you and him continue to walk. your hand coming up to adjust your purse, which is when the camera catches the glimpse of said item.

the chanel monaco helmet purse, but instead of the usual black or red color it comes in – its actually in the design of lando's helmet. the bright neon green with the black blobs standing out greatly and meant to be main attraction of the outfit.

when the two of you reach the mclaren hospitality, lando's hand moves from your shoulder to your hand as he easily helped you walk up the stairs before the doors are sliding open. the video cuts once you two disappear inside the bright orange hospitality.

💬 comments :

👤 : THAT BAGGGGGGGGGGG MAAM YOU ATE WITH IT

👤 : omg wait– is that an ACTUAL chanel bag?????

👤 : oh i'm OBSESSED with this outfit

👤 : yn's pinky toe is probs more stylish than me 😭

👤 : can yn pls style the other wags 😭 i'm tired of them being boring and having that lame stylist just putting them in whatever

clip #8 – yn watching quali from the balcony 😍

the camera is shaky as it is taken from the grandstand and immediately zooms into the balconies that are over the garages. the person filming has a clear shot of the mclaren hospitality – which is when the person zooms in on where you are clearly standing.

next to you is ari, the both of you leaning against the railing and chatting a little bit as you also seem to be focusing on watching quali that is happening below you. on the other side of you is lily who also seems to be in the conversation as even from so far, it still looks like she's talking as you and ari turn to look at her.

on the other side of lily is pietra, but its rather unclear if she's a part of the conversation too. that is until you are seen leaning back slightly from railing – mouth moving as pietra turns to look at you before nodding. you nod back before going back to look over the railing right as some of the cars are coming back around the track.

💬 comments :

👤 : omg this is the first time i'm seeing yn and p interact 😮

👤 : oh to be in their circle to know what they are talking about 🥹👂

👤 : HOWWWWWWW does she walk around in those heels????

👤 : DID YN JUST TALK TO PIETRA?????????? WHAT IN THE WORLD IS HAPPENING?????

👤 : why is always wearing heels if she's pregnant??? lets be a little more responsible here girly pop

landoyn4updates lando was at fan forum this afternoon signing things when a fan told him congrats on the baby; however, lando was quick to deny the rumors.

👤 : lando! lando! congrats on the baby, lando!!

LN : [looks towards fan's direction, shakes his head]

LN : there's no baby. please, don't say that to y/n.

📷 credits to yoyoynnie on twt

View all 19,289 comments

user okay but like... why did lando seem PISSED when that fan said congrats 😭😭😭

user that's what i was thinking!! he had a look like you just told him his dog died or something 😭

user no way that fan said congrats when it was just rumors 💀

user nooooooo him asking fans not to say that to yn too 🥺 that breaks my heart for some reason

user but why did he look traumatized by the fan congratulating him??

user maybe bc it was after quali??? he was probs just still upset about the results??

user nahhhh this def looked like something different

user no bc his reaction to the fan was weird 🤨

user i would be SO embarrassed if i was that fan 💀

user omg he looks so fucking hot

user well... at least we know she's not pregnant

user i bet that one person on twt who was SO sure yn was pregnant is screaming into the void right now

user and they were so sure of it too 😭

user the sigh of relief i just let out after watching this 😮‍💨

📅 june 7, 2026

clip #9 – yn entering the paddock 🤩 SHES DROP DEAD GORG GUYS

the camera is being taken from the fan forum and is incredibly shaky as it zooms in on where you are at the gate. you just got down scanning your pass, walking into the paddock and immediately waving as fans around the person recording start calling screaming your name.

"holy shit she's so pretty!" someone is heard saying.

you manage to get a few steps into the paddock before the camera is catching lando and rich, his bodyguard, coming down the walkway towards you. you smile once lando reaches you, your hands resting on his arms as he leans over to kiss your cheek before his holding your hand and the two of you are walking through the crowd.

"YOU'RE BEAUTIFUL TODAY Y/N!"

you turn to look over your shoulder – big smile on your face as you wave and give a quick finger heart towards the direction of the voice before turning back.

💬 comments :

👤 : but the fact lando went to go back and met her at the gate so they could walk together 🤧 MY PARENTS

👤 : does lando know she can walk by herself???? he's been extra clingy this weekend – its kind of weird 💀

👤 : where's ari??? didn't she come to the race as well??

👤 : she's in the video! you can see her walking next to yn

👤 : honestly – don't blame her for coming separately from lando lol – i wouldn't wear that and ride on the back of a scooter either 🤣🤣🤣

formulaonewags y/n stuns crowd at monaco gp today with her full chanel look!

View all 38,290 comments

user OH SHES STUNNING

user she's literally the best dressed wag at the entire race

user yeah you wish she was the best dressed 🙄

user and you wish you rode lando's dick like she does stfu 🙄

user waiting for that chanel ambassadorship any day now...

user lando is so fucking lucky

user MOMMY

user do you think her and the other wags have a peacock-off to see who gets the most attention for their outfits????

user if they do then its a constant yn vs alex vs carmen

user new challenger: kim k 💀

user her too if she shows up to anymore lmaoooooo

user if yn and lando ever need a third 🙋‍♀️ i totally volunteer as tribute

user yeah take a number buddy 😒

user she's not that pretty guys...

user probably prettier than you 🤭

user literally everything about this look is perfect – her best gp look of the season so far

user her monaco outfits always do manage to eat 🤩

user she's just like the rest of the wags when it comes to dressing up

clip #10 – yn giving lando a kinder before he goes to get ready for the race

the clip is filmed seemingly right outside lando's garage. there's about an hour until the race officially begins and the camera catches different mechanics and engineers moving around. but it also catches you and lando standing in the back.

in him in race suit with the top half hanging around his hips as he leans against the counter in the back of the garage. you and standing close to him, hand on his shoulder as he leans over to kiss you. you laugh shyly which makes him grin at you as you turn your back to the camera, your purse sitting on the counter as you quickly dig through it for something.

the camera catches your body perking up when you turn back to lando who is still watching with a fond smile. you then show him what's in your hand – the camera just faintly catching the blue and white wrapper. lando laughs, shaking his head before he's reaching to take the chocolate.

however, you smack his hand before carefully opening it and holding it against his lips. the two of you staring at each other before lando is slowly opening his mouth for you to push the sweet past his lips. you and then quickly dig through your purse once more before pulling out another one and happily eating it.

the clip catches the two of you giggling together, lando pulling you into a hug, his forehead against your own as you're kissing his cheek before hugging him back. the video ends right before a mclaren team member comes over to the both of you.

💬 comments :

👤 : what i would give to be in lando's place right now 😭😭😭

👤 : the two of them fucking giggling like teenagers 🥹

👤 : STOPPPPPPPP SHE HAD ONE FOR HIM AND HER 🥹🥹🥹

👤 : oh they are way too in love it makes me sick

👤 : i'm still shocked when in the beginning ppl use to say yn was just a rebound... clearly that's not the case almost four years later 🤧

♫ Bad Bunny · MONACO

cherryn créeme, los carros de F1 son más rápido' en persona 🖤🧡🤍

View all 993,389 comments

lando beautiful 🧡

cherryn thank you my love 🧡

lnfour paddock is a runway now 😍

mclarenf1 miss ceo reporting for duty 🫡

user ADMIN GET OFF THE INTERNET WE BEG

alexandramalenaleclerc stunning 🤍 liked by author

ari.archive MY WIFE 😍 liked by author

f1 we love seeing you work the paddock 😍

user ARIANA WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE

user girl you GOTTA stop make this joke

user MOMMMMYYYYYYYYYYYY

user at least lando has the greatest prize of all... y/n l/n

user AMEN TO THAT 🙏

user that first photo give SUCH lando.jgp vibes

user OMG IT DOES

user literally refuse to believe anyone BUT lando took that first one

user we believe you queen 🫡 must be crazy to experience it almost every weekend 😭

user the perks of being a wag 😭

user what do we believe???? i'm so confused??

user the lyrics in her caption – saying f1 cars are faster in irl

user oh

user she was decked out in chanel this entire weekend 😍 oh i bet some are JEALOUS over this 🤭🤭🤭

user our true queen of the paddock 😌 who kim k thinks she's being at the paddock

user NOT THE KIM K SHADEEEEEEEEE

user at least yn is nice to martin brundle 🥹

user omg wait i remember when brundle tried to interview yn back in 2023 🥺 you could tell that she was shy and caught off guard

user but at least she spoke to him 😭

user our mclaren ceo 🤩

user lando can't fight us all

📅 june 8, 2026

clip #11 – landoyn spotted on a yacht after the gp... 👀🛥️🥂

the camera starts out from far away before immediately zooming in on where you and lando are sitting. the video is grainy as hell, but you and lando can still be heavily made out as you are leaning into him. your backless dress showing off your bare back and, of course, lando's hand as he rubs circles on your lower back.

the both of you are happily talking with the other people at your table. you even laughing – head throwing back as the camera catches lando looking at you with a fond (grainy) smile before you're cozying back up into lando's side.

💬 comments :

👤 : LANDO YOUR HAND PLS SIR

👤 : oh that dress is so cute but i just KNOW she wore it for him

👤 : we are in 2026 people!! get better cameras 😤😤😤

👤 : are we getting party couple!landoyn back our lord and savior year of 2026 👀👀👀👀 cause i'm TOTALLY down for it

👤 : oh party girl!yn how i missed you 🤧

clip #12 – LANDO AND YN ARE AT THE CLUBBBBBBBBB

the camera is already focused on you and lando as you stand in the mix of people in the club. purple lights flashing around everybody as it zooms in slightly on you leaning against lando. your head on his chest as the two of you dance together, bodies flush as lando easily moves the both of you to the music.

you look at lando, smile on your lips as you say something to catch his attention. you say something again before he's nodding as you bring your drink to your lips. lando is then easily taking the cup and getting a drink as well before handing it back to you.

the camera catches as the british driver whispers something in your ear, you then looking over your shoulder before laughing and nodding.

💬 comments :

👤 : honestly, good for them for going out – esp lando after such a shit race

👤 : i NEED them to makeout and i'm NOT sorry for saying that 😤

👤 : at least we know she's DEF not pregnant now lmaoooooooooo

clip #13 – oh they are sooooooooo hot

the clip takes place in the same club the two of you have been spotted in. your back is pressed flush against lando's chest, his hands on your waist as you both move to the music.

at one point, lando even leans down with his face in your neck and your hand comes up to run through his curls and the camera tries to zoom in to get a better view of you and lando. when he lifts his head, you are smiling at him before he's kissing you.

you are caught laughing into the kiss as you turn to face him, arms wrapping around his neck as his hands grab your hips to drag you closer to him. the two of you continue to kiss – messy before lando is dragging his lips down your neck, and over your bare shoulder.

lando is caught kissing you one more time before the clip is suddenly ending.

💬 comments :

👤 : damn they are super hot together

👤 : MY PARENETTTTTTSSSSSSS HOW I MISSED THIS ERA OF THEM

👤 : they are so iconic

👤 : YES I FINALLY GOT MY MAKEOUT VIDEO

👤 : oh god they need to GET A ROOM 😭

👤 : they're once again fueling the dululus who obsess over their relationship

cherryn updated her story !

caption: ur welcome guys 🧡

replies :

user GOD BLESS THE LANDOYN NATION EVERYONEEEEEE

user a bisexual's dream

user THANK YOU MOTHER

user T-T-T--T-T-T-T-T--T THE DOUBLE BACK POSESSSSSSSSS

user girlllllll you've been holding out on us 😤😤😤