#slowburnfeels

ꜰ1 x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ʟᴀɴᴅᴏ ɴᴏʀʀɪꜱ ᴀᴜ | ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ + ᴅʀᴀᴍᴀ

⚠️ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ:

ᴜɴᴘʟᴀɴɴᴇᴅ ᴘʀᴇɢɴᴀɴᴄʏ

ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ꜱᴛʀᴇꜱꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴇɴꜱɪᴏɴ

ꜰᴇᴀʀ ᴏꜰ ᴘᴀᴛᴇʀɴɪᴛʏ ᴅᴏᴜʙᴛ

ʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢ ꜱɪᴄᴋɴᴇꜱꜱ, ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴘᴀɪɴ, ꜰᴀᴛɪɢᴜᴇ

ᴍᴇɴᴛᴀʟ/ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ʜᴇᴀʟᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ (ᴘᴀɴɪᴄ, ɢᴜɪʟᴛ, ᴄᴏɴꜰᴜꜱɪᴏɴ)

ꜱᴏᴄɪᴀʟ ᴍᴇᴅɪᴀ ꜱᴘᴇᴄᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ & ɪɴᴅɪʀᴇᴄᴛ ᴍᴇᴅɪᴀ ᴘʀᴇꜱꜱᴜʀᴇ

ꜱᴜʙᴛʟᴇ ʙᴏᴅʏ ɪᴍᴀɢᴇ ʀᴇꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇꜱ (ᴘʀᴇɢɴᴀɴᴄʏ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇꜱ)

ɪᴍᴘʟɪᴇᴅ ᴘʀᴇɢɴᴀɴᴄʏ ꜱᴇᴄʀᴇᴄʏ

ʙʀɪᴇꜰ ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ʟᴜᴄᴀ ᴀꜱ ᴀ ꜱᴏᴜʀᴄᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏɴꜰʟɪᴄᴛ

ʀᴇᴀʟɪꜱᴛɪᴄ ᴘᴏʀᴛʀᴀʏᴀʟ ᴏꜰ ᴇᴀʀʟʏ ᴘʀᴇɴᴀᴛᴀʟ ᴅᴇᴄɪꜱɪᴏɴ-ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ

ᴇᴀʀʟʏ ꜱᴛᴀɢᴇꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏ-ᴘᴀʀᴇɴᴛɪɴɢ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴜɴɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

POV: Lando

It wasn’t the noise of the track that got to him.

He was used to that, used to the roar of engines, the sharp commands over radio, the choreographed chaos of pit walls and team briefings. But lately, the silence between the noise felt heavier.

Lando sat alone in the back corner of the team hospitality suite, a water bottle untouched in front of him as engineers huddled at another table, reviewing telemetry data. He was supposed to join them five minutes ago.

His head throbbed.

Part of it was exhaustion. The rest? Guilt, confusion, fear, emotions that didn’t slot neatly into spreadsheets or tire strategies.

He pulled out his phone again.

No new messages.

He hadn’t texted her since she stopped replying last night. Part of him wanted to give her space. The other part, the stubborn, panicked, disbelieving part, still wrestled with the weight of her words from that quiet parking lot.

“I’m pregnant.”

“It’s yours.”

He wanted to believe her. God, a part of him did. But something in his brain, the logical, skeptical, broken-bit-of-him part, kept whispering: What if it’s not?

What if she was playing him? What if Luca really was involved? What if—

He stood up, too fast.

Oscar caught him on his way out. “Where you going?”

“Air,” Lando muttered. “Need some air.”

He found it out back, on a narrow fire escape with a view of the harbor. The wind off the water hit his face and cleared some of the fog, but not all of it.

He thought about her again. The way her hands had trembled. The way she’d looked at him, not like someone trying to trap him, but someone bracing for impact.

She wasn’t lying.

He could feel it. And still… the thought of Luca, the fact that they knew each other, it gnawed at him. It made him feel like an idiot.

“Stop thinking like that,” he muttered to himself. “She didn’t ask for anything.”

That was the part that unsettled him most. She hadn’t demanded money. She hadn’t threatened headlines. She hadn’t even asked him to stay.

She just told him the truth, and braced for him to walk away.

And he almost had.

He reached for his phone again and typed a contact into a secure group chat he rarely used.

Lando: Need a private referral. Someone discreet. Monaco-based OB or clinic. No PR risk.

He stared at the message.

Then hit send.

If she really was pregnant, if this really was his, then hiding wasn’t an option anymore.

POV: (Y/n)

It had become harder to hide.

Not just the nausea or the food aversions, but the fatigue. The constant thirst. The way her lower back ached if she stood too long in one position.

(Y/n) moved slowly behind the counter, pretending to adjust a jewelry display while secretly pressing a hand to her side. She hadn’t slept well, not because of discomfort, but because of replaying the same moment again and again.

Lando’s face. His doubt. His question.

“Are you sure it’s mine?”

The words still sat on her chest like bricks.

She had almost walked out. Would have, if he hadn’t stopped her, voice low, eyes unsteady, asking her to let him help. Not promising much. Just asking.

Still, it stung.

“You good?” Amara asked as she walked by, voice low.

“Yeah,” (Y/n) lied.

Amara didn’t push. She only placed a protein bar in front of her and kept walking.

Carla was near the window, scanning through Instagram reels with the brightness turned down. “You know,” she said casually, “McLaren just posted a video of Lando walking into the paddock this morning. He looked like he hadn’t slept in a week.”

(Y/n) didn’t react.

Carla peeked over her shoulder. “Girl, I’m not trying to stir the pot. But if he’s acting off, and you’re acting off... maybe you should actually talk again.”

“We did talk,” (Y/n) muttered, pressing a hand to her belly briefly. She was around eight weeks now. Still early, still in the danger zone, but she could feel things shifting. The tenderness, the small fluttering changes in her core.

Carla hummed. “You sure he’s ready for this?”

“No one’s ready for this.”

Amara passed by again, muttering, “Especially not the media. So whatever you do, don’t open Twitter.”

(Y/n) looked up. “What now?”

Carla’s grin vanished. “It’s... just gossip. People wondering who the girl in the McLaren paddock photo is. Some fans think you’re a cousin or team intern. Others are already pairing you two in edits.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep. Welcome to F1 TikTok.”

(Y/n) sighed and leaned against the wall. “I just wanted a quiet life.”

Amara handed her a chilled bottle of ginger tea. “Well, now you’ve got a fast one.”

(Y/n) took a sip. The boutique felt suddenly too bright, too loud. The chime over the door rang again, just a customer. Not him.

Still, part of her hoped.

POV: Lando

Back at his apartment, Lando’s phone buzzed.

Referral confirmed. Appointment slot held next week. Private. No press.

He exhaled.

Then sent a message to (Y/n):

Lando: Got us a place. Private. Clean. No attention. You don’t have to decide now—but it’s yours if you want it.

There was a pause.

Then her reply:

(Y/n): Thank you.

And then, a minute later:

(Y/n): I’m scared, Lando.

He stared at that one the longest.

Then wrote back:

Lando: Me too. But I’m not running anymore.

To be continued... 🧡

🧡 ᴜɴᴘʟᴀɴɴᴇᴅ — ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 10: ᴘᴀᴘᴇʀ ᴡᴀʟʟꜱ, Qᴜɪᴇᴛ ꜱᴛᴇᴘꜱ 🧡

📝 Note from the Author: This is the second post for today (I’m on a roll, huh? 😭), back again with more chaos, feels, and everything in between.

Thank you as always for reading and sticking with the story. Don’t forget to like, reblog, share, and comment, I love hearing from you 💬💖

Summary: Zaun is on the verge of breaking. Amid sirens and smoke, you fight alongside Vi to defend your people. But between the bruises, blood, and the bond that’s only grown stronger in the chaos, something deeper starts rising to the surface and neither of you can shove it down anymore. Pairing: Vi x Reader Word Count: ~1,200 Warnings: Violence, blood, minor injury, romantic tension, battle setting, emotional suppression

The street was on fire again.

Not literal flames this time but the noise, the smoke, the yelling it might as well have been.

You wiped sweat from your forehead with a cut-up sleeve, heart pounding too fast to think straight. Then, through the haze, you saw her.

Vi.

Covered in grime, blood on her cheek (probably not hers), jaw clenched like she was chewing on rage.

“You good?” she shouted over the chaos, swinging a pipe over her shoulder like it was just another extension of herself.

“I’ve had better nights,” you muttered, panting, “but yeah. Still standing.”

She smirked. “That’s all that matters right now.”

Another explosion cracked through the alley behind you a flare burst, not close enough to kill, but close enough to rattle your ribs. Vi didn’t even flinch. She reached for your hand, pulled you behind cover like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You didn’t let go.

The air down here always smelled like rust and electricity, but tonight it was worse panic thick in every breath. The streets had turned into a battleground. Kids were fighting, old friends turning on each other, and no one knew who the enemy even was anymore.

Except you and Vi.

You two had always known what you were fighting for: each other, and the ones who couldn’t fight for themselves.

“I’ve got your back,” you said, ducking behind a broken vent wall.

She looked at you not a glance, but a real look. Like she needed to know you meant it.

“You always do,” she said, voice rough. “But tonight… I need more than that.”

You frowned. “More?”

Before she could answer, a scream rang out a young voice, too close. You both spun around.

Two enforcers, backed into a corner by some half-masked chem-barons. Wrong place, wrong night. Vi didn’t hesitate she ran toward it, fists first. You were right behind her.

You fought like you always did in rhythm. Her blocks, your swings. Her takedowns, your follow-throughs. Not perfect, but enough. Always enough.

You took a hit to the ribs that knocked the wind out of you. Vi caught you before you could hit the ground.

“You okay?” she asked, breathless, eyes wide.

“Yeah,” you wheezed, blinking fast. “Just… let me catch my soul real quick.”

She laughed short, shaky, but real. Then she pressed her forehead to yours for a second. Just a second.

“You scared me,” she said, so low you barely heard it.

“I’m right here.”

“I know. That’s the problem.”

Later, when things had quieted not safe, but quiet you sat with her on the broken steps behind an abandoned chem-lab. Her knuckles were split. So were yours.

Neither of you talked at first.

Then she said, “I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel it.”

You turned your head.

“The way I look at you during fights,” she added, eyes locked on the horizon. “The way I check if you’re breathing before I even check myself.”

“Vi…”

She shook her head, suddenly looking mad at herself. “I don’t get to want things. Not down here. Not when everything’s falling apart.”

“You do,” you said, gently. “You get to want something for yourself. You get to want me.”

That made her look at you.

“Because I want you too,” you admitted, voice barely a whisper. “I just didn’t know if it was okay to say it. If it would mess everything up.”

Vi gave a quiet, almost tired laugh.

“Everything’s already messed up,” she said. “Might as well have something real in the middle of it.”

And then she kissed you.

Not soft. Not slow.

Desperate.

Like she’d been waiting for the world to end so she could finally do it.

You kissed her back.

Later, the riot would start again. The smoke would come back. The sirens, the blood, the noise all of it would return.

But for a moment, you weren’t just part of Zaun’s war.

You were part of Vi’s heart.

And for once, that felt like enough.

A/N :Here the last character of Arcane -> V. I. Hope u like it. Have a good reading! Lot of love !! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

It's gonna be the first one and there are two other imagines!