Hii i was wondering if u can do my request where reader is like the fifth member of bp and she is dating lando and she came to the race

YESSS!!! Of course. I was planning on doing something like this, and you just gave me the motivation, so thank you. Hopefully, I met your standards.

Spotlight & Slipstream

(Requested) Lando Norris x 5th Member of BLACKPINK Reader

| Lando Norris Masterlist| Main Masterlist |

Barcelona Grand Prix – Saturday Morning, Quali.

The sun was already high and golden over the Circuit de Barcelona-Catalunya. Fans were pressed against the barricades lining the paddock entrance, phones raised, merch clutched tight, waiting for glimpses of drivers, team principals, or—if they were lucky—someone unexpected. And then, just as the buzz began to dip…

They appeared.

Lando Norris, in some baggy blue jeans, wife-beater with a button-up as a cover, tinted sunglasses, and casual shoes, cool and composed, walking hand in hand with (Y/n)—member of BLACKPINK, global pop phenomenon, and the quietest of the group until now.

(Y/n) was effortlessly striking in her outfit: tailored black wide-leg trousers, a crisp white corset top, sleek sunglasses, and her long hair pulled into a low twist that framed her face with soft elegance and her signature silver “BP5” ring caught the Mediterranean sunlight. On her shoulder, a small bag with a silver McLaren logo—a gift from Lando, customized for her. Subtle. But personal.

Click. Click. Click.

Cameras erupted like fireworks.

The paddock practically froze. They hadn’t seen a launch like this in a while. Not through Instagram. Not a blurry paparazzi shot. Hand in hand, side by side—no room for doubt. PR staff members tensed. Journalists exchanged frantic glances. Fans screamed. And somewhere in the blur, someone whispered:

“Is that…?”

“Is this for real?!”

“Wait, (Y/n)? From BLACKPINK?”

“She’s dating Lando?!”

“Wait… are they dating?”

“That’s Lando’s girlfriend?”

Lando kept his hand wrapped around hers, thumb gently rubbing over her knuckles—a grounding gesture, one that steadied her even with the chaos humming around them. She leaned into him slightly as they walked, letting him lead her past the sea of cameras. (Y/n) took it all in—the garages, the engineers, the humming sound of the cars being prepped. Every now and then, a camera lens would catch her, and soon, fans on Twitter were piecing it all together.

People pretended not to stare—but they stared. Mechanics, media crews, engineers, interns, even other drivers mid-conversation paused just a beat too long. The Paddock had seen supermodels, celebrities, and even royals. But not like this. Oscar Piastri looked up from his water bottle and nudged someone. “Lily, that’s (Y/n), right?”

“From BLACKPINK?” asked his girlfriend, Lily, blinking hard.

Oscar grinned. “I guess we’re having a real K-pop moment.” In the hospitality suite, Lando gently introduced (Y/n) to Oscar and Lily,

“(Y/n), this is Oscar. And Lily—his better half.” Lando said, his arm now around her waist. the energy a little awkward at first. (Y/n) smiled warmly as Lily stepped forward. “You’re glowing,” Lily said, leaning in for a friendly cheek kiss. “Aw, thank you.”

“I can’t imagine walking in here with everyone staring at me like that,” Lily said gently.

(Y/n) laughed, small and polite. “It feels like walking into a lion’s den covered in meat.”

Lily snorted. “Perfect analogy. C’mon, I’ll show you where to escape the cameras.”

“I’d love that,” (Y/n) said, immediately relieved. Lily looped her arm around (y/n)’s. They walked ahead, letting the boys talk strategy. Within ten minutes, the two were chatting like they'd known each other for weeks. Lily guided (Y/n) through the paddock rhythm—where to stand, when to move, how not to accidentally get run over by a scooter. And most importantly, how to survive the internet later.

Barcelona Grand Prix – Race Day

The sun was harsher today, the air heavy with race-day nerves. Fans had already started lining the barricades before the teams had even finished breakfast. Reporters sharpened their pens. The broadcast crew had their cameras locked in. And like the most anticipated sequel, they returned.

Lando Norris and (Y/n), hand in hand again, this time walking slower, quieter—but no less magnetic. Gone was the sleek, polished “statement” energy of the day before. Today, it was personal.

(Y/n) wore a cropped vintage McLaren tee—cut just enough to show a sliver of skin above a black MUI MUI Velour mini skirt. Her hair was down with curls that bounced with each step. Simple gold hoops, black sunglasses, and McLaren-designed acrylic nails with a subtle nod to Lando’s livery completed the look. She looked like a girlfriend, not a global pop star. And that somehow made it all the more stunning.

Lando kept it casual too: black relaxed-fit trousers, crisp white trainers, and a grey quarter-zip layered over his race tee, the collar tugged slightly open at the base like he’d been rushing. His McLaren backpack was slung lazily over one shoulder, and with his free hand, he squeezed (Y/n)’s fingers now and then, the way you’d tap someone just to say I’m here.

Photographers were more aggressive, some even tried jogging backwards to get a cleaner shot.

Some fans screamed their names. Others… less friendly.

“Lando, focus on the race!”

“(Y/n)! We love you!”

“She’s not even wearing a pass—oh, wait, it’s on her bag.”

“They’re kinda iconic, I won’t lie.”

“This is not a music video, it’s Formula One!”

A teen girl behind the barrier shouted, “(Y/N), YOU LOOK AMAZING!”

(Y/n) turned, smiled, and blew her a kiss

The girl screamed like she’d won the lottery.

They didn’t say much as they crossed the paddock. They didn’t have to. (Y/n) caught glimpses—team members pretending not to stare, a Sky Sports camera shifting toward them, a McLaren PR assistant whispering urgently into a mic. But Lando kept his pace steady, his hold on her hand firm, and when they reached the McLaren entrance, he leaned in.

“You alright?” he murmured, eyes scanning her expression.

She nodded once. “Yea, you?”

He smirked just slightly. “I mean, we’re trending. Again.”

She rolled her eyes and bumped her shoulder into his. “Hope your car’s faster than your Instagram feed.” Lando let out a quiet laugh and pulled her a little closer so he could wrap his arm around her shoulders. Her arm went to his waist as they disappeared into the team suite, camera shutters echoing after them. And that was it. Just a walk, on a Sunday morning, between a pop star and her driver. But to the world, it was everything.

When the race began, (Y/n) stood just behind the McLaren pit wall, headphones on, sunglasses up, watching every second of it.

The moment (Y/n) was shown on the global broadcast, everything exploded. She’d just pulled her hair up into a loose claw clip, sipping water, nodding at something Lily pointed out on the grid when the commentator’s voice broke through screens worldwide:

“And there’s (Y/n)—BLACKPINK’s fifth member—here supporting her partner, Lando Norris. The paddock’s real showstopper this weekend!”

(Y/n)’s name trended within minutes.

The cars roared past with violent beauty, but she wasn’t looking at the track. It was louder than she expected. She gripped Lily’s arm once when Lando overtook someone on a corner and again when his engineer called in with urgent tire strategy changes.

Lando had started P5. But through sheer grit—and a well-timed pit stop—he was P1 in the final ten laps. (Y/n) was on her feet, clapping, heart racing. And when he crossed the finish line in first, a poll finish, the crowd and garage erupted. Mechanics cheered—and the cameras found her instantly. His name lit up on the timing screens, the McLaren garage erupting in cheers. Mechanics jumped, engineers clapped, and Zak Brown released a full-bodied “YES, mate!”

Still strapped in his McLaren, Lando slammed his fist against the top of the wheel in celebration. The orange beast was sitting in its box— first on the podium. He unbuckled fast, snatched off his steering wheel, and launched it into the car holder. Helmet off. Balaclava peeled. Hair sweaty, eyes wide, heart pumping like mad. But he wasn’t looking at the cameras.

He was looking for her.

Across the barrier, (Y/n) stood with her hands pressed to her mouth, eyes glistening under the brim of his McLaren cap. Her voice was hoarse from cheering. And when he spotted her? He bolted.

No cameras. No press. No protocol.

full race suit, gloves half-off, Lando dodged past a Sky mic and made a beeline straight to the barrier. A security guy instinctively stepped forward, but Lando waved him off and leaned across the partition. (Y/n) didn’t wait.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he grabbed her in an unfiltered, full-body hug. Lifting her off the ground just slightly, arms locked around her middle like he never wanted to let go. She laughed—light, breathless, near tears. “You did it.”

He mumbled something into her hair, something no mic could catch, but she nodded and pressed her forehead to his. The crowd’s noise faded into a low hum for just a second. A moment stolen between champagne and ceremony.

“P1, baby,” he whispered. “That was for you.”

(Y/n) pulled back just enough to look at him, hands on his flushed cheeks. “I’m so proud of you.” He grinned, breath still uneven, and rested his forehead against hers one last second before pulling back. “Okay. I gotta go do the whole... champagne thing.”

She laughed, eyes dancing. “Just don’t hit me with it.”

“No promises.”

The photos hit the internet minutes later:

Lando in his sweaty race suit, hugging (Y/n) like they hadn’t just soft-launched the day before. Her smile mid-laugh, his eyes closed, their bodies pressed tight like no cameras were there at all.

When he climbed up to the podium, her jaw dropped seeing how effortlessly he belonged up there—confident, flushed with adrenaline. Their eyes met. He stood P1, cap slightly askew, heart still racing. But his eyes? His eyes were only on her. (Y/n), standing just beyond the fence with the McLaren team, eyes locked on his like the world had slowed down for just them.

She wasn’t filming on her phone. She wasn’t looking at the crowd or the jumbotron.

She was looking at him—shoulders straight, McLaren hat now turned backward, sunglasses tucked away on her shirt. Her lips parted just slightly, a breath caught in her chest, hands wrapped tight around her pass lanyard. She looked like she was trying to memorize him. Like she didn’t want to blink and miss this version of him: sweaty, grinning, flushed with victory. He stared back. Not at the trophy. Not at the camera. Not at the crowd.

Just her.

It was a silent conversation stretched over a sea of noise.

When the anthem ended and the trophies were handed out, he lifted his bottle, shook it once—and in a bold, mischievous spin, he aimed his champagne bottle right at her.

“NO—!” she shrieked, ducking just a second too late as cold, bubbly mist splashed across her shoulders, her legs, and her shoes. She laughed, mouth open in disbelief as the crowd howled, the cameras zooming in on her shocked but giggling face. “Lando!” she shouted, half-laughing, half-scolding—but with that grin she got when he made her feel sixteen again.

He just threw his head back and laughed, pointing down at her like it was the best aim he’d ever had. Charles, on the top step, clapped him on the back while Max raised a brow, smirking.

“Love’s got you reckless, mate,” Max muttered under his breath.

Lando winked.

Back down in the crowd, couldn’t stop smiling. She wiped her legs with a towel a mechanic handed her, muttering “unbelievable” with a shake of her head, but her eyes never left the podium. And even after the music faded and the ceremony wrapped, even as the drivers were ushered away for media and debriefs, Lando turned one more time before stepping off the stage. She was still watching him. And he gave her one last look. She kissed her hand and waved it at him. A smile stretched across his face before he was ushered away

After the media, the champagne, and the photos, they found a moment alone—tucked away in one of the private corners of the McLaren motorhome, lights dimmed, the buzz of the race slowly fading outside. (Y/n) curled into the oversized hoodie—his hoodie—draped down to her thighs, sleeves swallowing her hands. She still smelled faintly of champagne and summer air, skin warm from the Spanish sun. Lando leaned against the wall beside her, cheeks flushed from adrenaline and a thousand camera flashes. His curls were messy, still damp from the podium celebration. For a second, they just looked at each other—silent, smiling, suspended in the calm after the storm.

“You looked good up there,” she said softly, her voice still a little hoarse from screaming trackside. “Like… born to be there.” trying to figure out the words.

“And you,” he replied, stepping closer, “looked like my lucky charm.”

A breathless laugh left her lips as she glanced up. “Is that your way of saying I should come to every race?”

“I’m saying,” he murmured, reaching out to tuck a damp strand of hair behind her ear, “I drove like hell because I knew you were watching. I didn’t want to let you down.” Her lips parted. Her breath hitched.

“I could never be disappointed in you,” she whispered, and before she could say anything more, he leaned in—pressing his lips to hers. It was soft at first. Warm and steady. Her hand rose to the side of his neck, his arms wrapping around her waist like he couldn’t believe she was there, real and glowing and his. Then he deepened it—urgent now, like everything that had built up between them finally burst open. His hands slid up to cup her face gently, her hoodie sleeves bunched between them. She smiled mid-kiss, tilting her head just enough to match his rhythm. He tasted like adrenaline and Gatorade and something entirely Lando.

When they pulled back, foreheads still touching, his voice was barely above a whisper.

“You kiss like you’re trying to kill me.”

She grinned, brushing her thumb along his jaw. “You kissed me first.”

He laughed—full and soft- and then kissed her again, quicker this time, just because he could.

The Morning After

Sunlight filtered in through gauzy curtains, painting gold across the sheets. (Y/n) stirred first, still wrapped in Lando’s hoodie, her cheek pressed to his bare chest. His arm was slung over her back, heavy and warm, fingers resting at the dip of her spine. His heart beat steady beneath her ear. She shifted slightly, and his arm tightened.

“Mmm… stay,” he murmured, his voice gravelly and half-asleep.

“I wasn’t going anywhere,” she whispered back, lips brushing the skin just over his heart.

He cracked one eye open, curls a mess, lashes tangled from sleep. “You’re real, yeah?”

She smiled, nudging his chin up with her fingers. “Very.”

He leaned in and kissed her slowly—like a secret, like a promise—and then buried his face in her hair, mumbling, “Best podium I’ve ever had.”

She giggled, tracing lazy circles on his chest. “You’re disgusting.”

“And you love it.”

She didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. The way she held him said everything.

Same Night — Internet Breaks

@F1HARDWIRE "BLACKPINK's (Y/n) spotted with Lando Norris—hand in hand 👀 Relationship soft-launch confirmed?"

@BLACKPINKGLOBAL "(Y/n) supporting Lando at the Monaco GP. The way he sprayed her with champagne and she LAUGHED? Soulmates."

@Formula_tea "BLACKPINK showing up in the McLaren garage is actually the wildest crossover of 2025."

@trackratforever: “I’m sorry, why is a KPOP IDOL in the garage like she knows what DRS is 💀 stick to dancing.”

@lovesickf1: “(Y/n) in a paddock dress and sunglasses while Oscar tries to explain tire degradation to her is PEAK WAG behavior. I’m obsessed.”

@blinksy: “The way Lando LOOKS at her… I’d quit my job for less.”

@landoismybfnotreally: “As long as he treats her right, we’re cool. If he breaks her heart, we riot.”

@girlsontrackk: “WHO HAD BLACKPINK X F1 ON THEIR 2025 BINGO CARD??”

@lanpink_edits: “When a literal global superstar dates the grid’s golden retriever…”

Comments ranged from chaos to thirst to full support:

“I know Lando hasn’t seen her live because he would NOT survive ‘Tally’ or ‘Pretty Savage.’”

“If she’s bringing the girls to a race, the entire paddock is done for.”

“Imagine Toto Wolff trying to understand a BLACKPINK lightstick.”

Within hours, hashtags exploded

(Y/n) didn’t say a word. She just posted a photo on Instagram:

@/yourusername

❤️ 5.7M 💬 36.3k ➤ 512k

Yourusername been together for a while now. 🧡🏆 finally get to show you off 🧸

Comments:

@/USER1 GRID PRINCESS

@/jennierubyjane I saw you on TV. You are so pretty 🥺

↳ Yourusername stawpp 🙂‍↔️

@/USER2 F1 just got 10x hotter

@/GeorgeRussell63 Still waiting for BLACKPINK to teach us choreo. I’ll bring the helmet

@/USER3 THIS CROSSOVER IS INSANE

@/USER4 power couple 🤞

@/pierregasly Never seen Lando smile that much before. Congrats mate 👀

@/paddocktea y’all she was wearing his chain in the garage HIS CHAIN AHH

@/USER5 god really has favorites 😔😔

@/chaoticblink First Jennie dated Kai, NOW (Y/n) is dating an F1 driver? Blackpink's dating rosters stay elite

@/USER6 can’t believe Lando is now “(Y/n)’s boyfriend” to half the internet 🥹

@/Sooyaaa_ 의심스러운 활동 🕵🏻‍♂️🤔 (suspicious activity)

↳ Yourusername 🫣

@/Teamlando If she shows up to Silverstone, it’s OVER for all of us

@/yn’sluvbot LANDO YOU BETTER BE TREATING OUR GIRL RIGHT OR we’re coming for u

@/charles_leclerc Me and Alex want VIP tickets

↳ Yourusername Straight to the point 😭

@/lalalalisa_m 😍👏👏

↳ Yourusername 🧡

@/danielricciardo Can I meet Rosè? 😁

↳ roses_are_rosie 🙋‍♀️

could you maybe do something on the stuff p and new baby verstappen get up to together (toddler!reader)?

Maybe both coming in to mess with max on stream and some other stuff idk 💕

Royal Tea Party

Max adjusted his headset, a small smile playing on his lips as he read the chat scrolling rapidly on his screen. His fans were engaged, talking about the latest race, asking him about his setup, and making jokes at his expense. It was just another normal evening of streaming—until his daughters got involved.

Behind him, the soft murmuring of excited voices and the occasional giggle made his ears twitch. He didn’t need to turn around to know exactly what was happening.

Penelope was up to something.

Max had been a father for six years now, and if there was one thing he had learned, it was that silence was never a good sign. He kept glancing at his camera, making sure to interact with chat, but his attention was increasingly drawn to the sounds behind him.

Then, he heard it—tiny, determined footsteps followed by the sound of a chair being dragged across the floor.

“What is P up to?” he muttered under his breath, a small smirk appearing as he peeked over his shoulder.

There, right in the middle of the living room, was an elaborate tea party setup. Stuffed animals and dolls sat neatly around a tiny pink table covered in an assortment of fake pastries and little plastic cups filled with imaginary tea. Penelope, still in her pastel pink pajamas, was busy arranging the chairs, her brow furrowed in deep concentration.

And then, as if the scene couldn’t get any cuter, she carefully lifted her little sister into her arms.

Yn, with her soft blonde curls and chubby toddler cheeks, squealed in delight, wrapping her tiny arms around her big sister's shoulders. “Peee!” she giggled, kicking her little legs as Penelope carried her over to the tea party setup.

Max chuckled. “Oh, chat, I think I’m about to lose my stream to my daughters,” he announced, shaking his head fondly.

The chat immediately exploded.

Max turned slightly in his chair, watching as Penelope gently set Yn down in one of the little chairs. The toddler clapped her hands, delighted, as she looked at all the toys seated around the table.

“Okay, my little princess, are you ready for tea?” Penelope asked, her voice filled with exaggerated importance.

Yn nodded eagerly. “Tea!”

Max let out a quiet laugh before turning back to his stream. “This is what happens when you have two daughters. One minute you’re gaming, the next you’re watching a royal tea party unfold in your own living room.”

The chat was having a field day, spamming heart emojis and begging him to move his camera so they could see the tea party better.

"Alright, alright," he relented, picking up his webcam and adjusting it so the viewers could get a better look at the scene.

Penelope, noticing her father’s attention, waved dramatically. “Hello, people of Papa’s stream!” she announced. “Today, we are having a very special tea party with Princess Yn and all of our lovely guests.”

Yn clapped again. “Tea! Tea!”

Max shook his head, amused. “You two are stealing the show.”

Penelope beamed. “We are the stars, Papa. You’re just a guest.”

That made Max laugh. “Oh, is that so?”

“Mhmm,” she nodded seriously. Then, she turned back to Yn, adjusting the frilly pink tiara on her little sister’s head. “You need to look extra pretty, princess.”

Yn, patient as ever with her big sister, sat still as Penelope carefully brushed through her soft curls.

“There! Now you look beautiful,” P announced proudly before grabbing a tiny plastic plate with a toy cookie on it. “A special treat for you, Your Highness.”

Yn gasped in delight, taking the cookie and pretending to take a big bite. “Mmm! Yum yum!”

The chat was going absolutely wild now.

Max rested his chin in his hand, watching his girls with pure adoration. He loved racing—he lived for it—but moments like these? They were his everything.

Then, out of nowhere, a new little guest arrived at the tea party.

Sassy, their grumpy, notoriously independent cat, padded over to where Yn sat. The toddler’s big green eyes widened as the feline hopped up onto her lap and curled up, purring softly.

Yn looked positively enchanted. “Kitty!” she squealed.

Penelope gasped dramatically. “Oh my gosh! Papa! Look! Sassy is sitting with Yn!”

Max turned, eyes widening slightly in shock. “No way.”

Sassy, the cat who barely tolerated anyone, was now snuggled up against his youngest daughter, purring as if she had never been a grumpy cat in her life.

The chat exploded again.

Max chuckled in disbelief. “Alright, I think I’ve seen it all now.”

Yn, meanwhile, was giggling uncontrollably, her little hands petting the soft fur. Sassy let out a long, content sigh but didn’t move, much to Max’s utter bewilderment.

“I give up,” he muttered. “Sassy officially loves Yn more than me.”

Penelope giggled. “Well, she is the princess.”

Max shook his head fondly. “I should just end my stream. No one cares about me anymore.”

As if on cue, both girls suddenly appeared at his side, Penelope holding a small pink tea cup and Yn carrying a tiny plastic plate with a cookie.

“Papa, it is time for your royal tea,” P declared, handing him the tea cup.

Yn held out the cookie proudly. “Eat!”

Max chuckled, playing along. He took the plastic cup, pretending to take a sip. “Mmm, this is the best tea I’ve ever had.”

Penelope beamed. “Of course it is! I made it.”

Then, he picked up the tiny cookie and took a fake bite. “Delicious.”

Yn giggled in delight before holding up her chubby little cheek. “Kiss!”

Max melted on the spot. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. “Mwah.”

Yn giggled even more before pointing at her other cheek. “Again!”

Max chuckled, obliging her with another kiss. “Mwah!”

Then, Penelope grinned and pointed at her own cheek. “Me too, Papa!”

Max pulled her into a tight hug, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “There, my little tea party queen.”

Penelope giggled before taking Yn’s hand. “Come on, let’s go finish our tea party!”

Yn nodded excitedly. “Tea! Kitty!”

Max watched as his daughters ran back to their tea party, their laughter filling the room. He sighed happily, turning back to his stream with the biggest smile on his face.

“Alright, chat,” he said. “I think that was the best interruption I’ve ever had.”

Max laughed. “Maybe one day, but for now, I think I’ll just enjoy my tea party.”

And with that, he ended the stream, leaving his fans with the sweetest, most heartwarming moment they had ever witnessed.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Heyy! Could you maybe write for Oscar, his 2 year old babygirl being very cuddly and clingy? She doesn’t want to be separated from him or her mom. Just very fluffy and sweet

Little Miss Clingy

The moment Oscar and Lily laid eyes on their baby girl two years ago, their world shifted. They had thought they understood love before, but seeing their daughter for the first time, tiny and perfect, was something else entirely. They adored every part of her—the way her little fingers curled around theirs, the sleepy sighs she made when she rested on their chests, and now, at two years old, the way she toddled around their home, her chubby arms always reaching for them.

Yn was the center of their universe, and she knew it.

So, when Oscar suggested bringing her to a race for the first time, Lily had been hesitant. "She’s never been around so many people before, Osc," she had said, running her fingers through Yn’s soft curls as the little girl played with her stuffed rabbit. "She might get overwhelmed."

Oscar, ever the optimist, had grinned. "She’ll be fine, love. She’s got us."

And now, standing in the middle of the paddock with Yn perched on Oscar’s hip, her little fists gripping his shirt tightly, Lily wasn’t so sure about that.

Yn’s big eyes darted around, scanning the sea of unfamiliar faces. People were everywhere—talking, laughing, pointing cameras in their direction. Some even called out to her daddy, waving excitedly.

Yn didn’t like it.

She turned her head, burying her face into Oscar’s shoulder. He let out a small chuckle, rubbing her back. "Not a fan of the crowd, huh, sweetheart?"

Yn only gripped him tighter.

"She’s definitely overwhelmed," Lily murmured, adjusting the pink bucket hat on Yn’s head. She had fought hard for that hat. Everyone in the team had wanted to dress their daughter in orange, but Yn had refused. The second Lily showed her the pink one, she had clapped her hands and declared, "Pinky!"

So pink it was.

Oscar pressed a kiss to Yn’s hair. "It’s a lot to take in, isn’t it, bub?"

Yn peeked up at him with wide eyes, then at Lily, before reaching for her. "Mama," she mumbled, her little voice barely audible over the noise of the paddock.

Lily took her immediately, smoothing a hand over her curls. "I’ve got you, baby."

They made their way toward the hospitality area, where a few drivers were gathered, chatting casually. When they spotted Oscar, their faces lit up.

"Ah, so this is the famous Yn!" Lando was the first to approach, grinning wide. "Hey there, little one."

Yn stared at him for a long moment, then turned her face into Lily’s neck.

Lando gasped dramatically. "Rejected. That one stings, not gonna lie."

Alex snorted, leaning over to get a peek at Yn. "She’s shy, mate. Give her a second."

Oscar reached out, stroking Yn’s back. "You okay, bub? These are my friends."

Yn peeked up, glancing at the group again before curling back into her mom’s arms.

Lily chuckled. "She’s in a clingy mood today."

Carlos, standing nearby, tilted his head. "She doesn’t like crowds?"

"She’s just confused," Oscar explained. "This is her first race, and she has no idea what’s going on."

Max, who had been quiet, suddenly crouched down to Yn’s eye level. "Do you like racing, little one?"

Yn blinked at him, then shook her head. "No."

A beat of silence. Then, Lando burst into laughter. "Oh, Oscar, you’re in trouble."

Oscar let out a dramatic sigh. "Come on, bub, you’re breaking my heart here."

Yn just nestled deeper into Lily’s arms.

"You’re not into racing?" Lando tried again. "But your dad is really good at it!"

Yn furrowed her brows. "Where Daddy go?"

Oscar chuckled. "I’m right here, bub."

She shook her head, patting his chest. "No. Later."

It took them a moment to understand what she meant.

"She’s asking where you go during the race," Lily realized, rubbing Yn’s back.

"Ohhh," Oscar grinned. "Daddy goes in the car, sweetheart."

Yn looked unimpressed.

"To drive really fast," Oscar added.

Still unimpressed.

"You don’t think that’s cool?"

Yn shook her head.

Alex doubled over laughing. "She’s killing me!"

Oscar pouted dramatically. "Alright, bub, what do you think is cool?"

Yn thought for a moment, then lifted her hat. "Pinky."

Lily smirked. "Pink is her favorite color. She wasn’t having any of the orange merch."

Carlos hummed. "You have taste, pequeña. Pink is a great color."

Yn finally pulled her face away from Lily’s neck, her big eyes looking at Carlos. "Pink good."

"See?" Carlos beamed. "Smart girl."

Just as she was starting to relax, a crew member approached, handing Oscar his helmet.

"It’s time?" Oscar asked.

"Yeah, you’re needed in the garage."

Oscar turned back to his wife and daughter, taking Yn into his arms and running a soothing hand down Yn’s back. "Alright, bub, Daddy has to go drive now, okay?"

Yn’s little brows furrowed.

"Daddy will be back soon," he promised. "You stay with Mama."

Then, before she could protest, he gently transferred her into Lily’s arms.

Yn made a confused noise, blinking as if trying to process what just happened. Then—

"Daddy!"

Oscar turned just in time to see his little girl reaching for him, her lower lip wobbling.

"Oh, sweetheart," Lily cooed, bouncing her slightly. "It’s okay, baby. Daddy will be back."

But Yn wasn’t having it.

She let out a frustrated whine, her small hands grasping at the air in Oscar’s direction. "Daddy!"

Oscar winced. "Oh man, this is gonna hurt."

"You need to go," Lily said, though she was clearly struggling not to cave at the sight of their daughter’s distress.

"Yeah, but—"

"Daddy!"

It took everything in Oscar not to take her back. But he knew if he did, he’d never leave.

"I love you, bub," he said softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I’ll be back before you know it."

Yn whined again, but this time, she slumped against Lily’s shoulder, defeated.

Oscar gave her one last look, blowing her a kiss, before heading off, feeling a pang in his chest at the sound of her little sniffles.

Lily sighed, adjusting Yn in her arms. "It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you."

Still, Yn was clearly not happy.

And when Lily started talking to a man called Zak Brown, the two-year-old had had enough.

She curled into her mother, pressing her face into Lily’s neck.

Zak chuckled. "She’s not much of a people person, huh?"

Lily smiled, rubbing small circles on Yn’s back. "She’s usually very social. But today is a lot for her."

Zak nodded understandingly. "First race?"

"Yeah. She doesn’t get why people keep wanting Oscar’s attention or where he goes. She just wants her parents."

Yn clung tighter.

"Well," Zak said, giving the little girl a warm smile, "I think she’s got a great support system."

Lily pressed a kiss to her daughter’s head. "That she does."

Yn didn’t understand racing, or why people were so interested in her dad, or why they kept trying to put her in orange when pink was clearly superior.

But she knew one thing for sure.

As long as she was with her mommy and daddy, everything would be okay.

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Hey could you write maybe more of dad carlos maybe drive to survive and little yn steals the show at 3 years old

Drive to Survive the Yn show

Carlos had known from the moment he opened his front door at the crack of dawn that this weekend was going to be a long one. The Drive to Survive crew stood outside, cameras already rolling, lights glaring, and all Carlos could do was stare at them with an unimpressed expression, arms crossed over his chest.

“Good morning, Carlos!” one of the producers greeted him cheerfully.

He sighed, stepping aside to let them in. “Is it?”

The crew laughed, mistaking his sarcasm for good humor. He shuffled towards the kitchen, rubbing his face as he tried to wake up properly. He was used to early mornings, but this? Being filmed first thing in the morning in his own house? This was excessive.

Carlos moved around the kitchen with practiced ease, grabbing eggs, bread, and fresh fruit while the cameras hovered around him. He knew how this worked—every word, every glance could be twisted into a narrative of Netflix’s choosing.

As he cracked eggs into a pan, soft footsteps signaled that Rebecca had woken up. His wife appeared in the doorway, still dressed in pajamas, hair a little messy from sleep. She paused at the sight of the cameras and gave Carlos a knowing look.

“Oh no,” she muttered, making her way over to him. “They caught you before coffee?”

Carlos huffed. “Sí. I think they planned it.”

The crew chuckled again, but Rebecca ignored them as she reached for a cup and poured herself coffee, sighing in satisfaction as she took her first sip. “Well, at least they get to see the real you.”

Carlos smirked. “Which version? Grumpy pre-coffee Carlos or amazing chef Carlos?”

“Both,” she teased, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before hopping onto the counter to watch him cook.

It wasn’t long before more footsteps echoed down the hallway. His parents had arrived. Reyes greeted the cameras with her usual warm smile, unfazed by their presence, while Carlos Sr. simply gave them a polite nod before making a beeline for the coffee machine.

And then, the real star of the morning made her appearance.

Rebecca turned her head as the sound of tiny, tired whimpers came from the staircase. “There she is,” she murmured, shifting off the counter to meet their daughter.

Little Yn, still half-asleep, clung to her mother’s shoulder, her curls a messy halo around her head. She buried her face in Rebecca’s neck, only peeking out when she realized something was different.

The cameras.

Carlos put down the spatula and walked over, effortlessly taking Yn into his arms. “Oh, mi amor, still sleepy?”

Yn made a tiny noise of agreement and nuzzled against his chest. Carlos instinctively cradled her closer, rubbing her back. “It’s okay, go back to sleep, baby,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Rebecca looked at the Netflix crew and smirked. “I think you’ve lost your main character.”

She was right. The cameras were no longer focused on Carlos. They had all shifted to Yn, who was curled up against her father, completely unbothered by the world.

Carlos shook his head. “Figures.”

By the time they arrived at the circuit, Carlos had accepted his fate. This was no longer his documentary episode—this was Yn’s.

The moment their little family stepped out of the car, the fans erupted.

“CARLOS!”

“REBECCA!”

“YN!”

Carlos blinked. He turned to Rebecca, who raised an eyebrow. “She has fans now?”

Rebecca grinned. “Obviously. She’s adorable.”

Yn, meanwhile, was unbothered by the attention, happily munching on a strawberry as they made their way through the paddock. The cameras continued following them, but they seemed less interested in Carlos preparing for his home race and more in his three-year-old daughter discovering the world around her.

At one point, Yn gasped, dropping her strawberry. “¡Mariposa!”

Carlos followed her gaze to see a small yellow butterfly fluttering near the McLaren motorhome. Before he could react, Yn took off running.

Or at least, what counted as running for a three-year-old.

“Dios,” Carlos muttered, already following her. The cameras, of course, were rolling.

Yn giggled as she “chased” the butterfly, tiny legs moving as fast as they could. The butterfly barely even noticed her, lazily floating through the air as if playing a game with her.

“Papá, so fast!” Yn announced proudly.

Carlos snorted. “Yes, super fast, mi vida.”

He caught her just before she could stumble, lifting her into his arms. She giggled, still reaching for the butterfly.

Behind them, Charles appeared, laughing. “She’s faster than you in slow corners, mate.”

Carlos rolled his eyes. “Not now, Charles.”

Charles grinned at Yn. “You remember Roscoe and Leo, right?”

Yn blinked up at him, thoughtful. “Sí.”

“Well, they remember you too,” Charles assured her.

Carlos snorted. “Charles, they are dogs.”

Charles ignored him. “Do you want to say hi next time I visit?”

Yn nodded excitedly. “Yes! Leo soft.”

“See? She gets it.” Charles ruffled her curls, earning another giggle before he walked off.

The Netflix cameras were still following, capturing every second.

Carlos sighed. “This is not about me anymore.”

Rebecca patted his back. “You’re just realizing that now?”

Between media duties, meetings, and race prep, Carlos kept an eye on his daughter. It was a habit at this point—he could be mid-conversation with his engineers, but a small movement from Yn in the corner of his vision would immediately catch his attention.

At one point, while Carlos, Rebecca, Reyes, and Carlos Sr. sat in the hospitality area drinking coffee, Yn curled up in her grandfather’s lap, yawning.

Carlos Sr. smiled, running a gentle hand through her hair. “She’s tired from all the excitement.”

Rebecca reached over, stroking Yn’s cheek. “It’s been a big morning.”

Yn’s eyelids drooped. “Sleepy,” she murmured.

“Then sleep, mi amor,” her grandfather whispered, adjusting his hold so she was more comfortable.

Yn didn’t need to be told twice. She was asleep within minutes.

Carlos shook his head, watching her. “She can sleep anywhere.”

Reyes smiled. “Like you when you were little.”

The cameras, of course, filmed the whole thing.

Later, Rebecca knelt beside Yn, applying sunscreen to her delicate skin.

Yn wrinkled her nose. “Cold!”

“I know, baby,” Rebecca soothed, rubbing it in.

Yn giggled as the cream was smoothed over her arms and cheeks. She wiggled but let her mother finish, laughing when Rebecca poked her tummy playfully.

Carlos sat beside them, shaking his head with a smile. “You think sunscreen is funny, mi amor?”

Yn nodded enthusiastically. “Tickles!”

The cameras caught the entire moment. Carlos wasn’t sure if Netflix had ever filmed something so far removed from the actual racing season.

By the time the race weekend ended, Carlos wasn’t even sure why Netflix had followed him at all.

They had hours of footage of Yn—running after butterflies, giggling while getting sunscreen, falling asleep in her grandfather’s arms. The clips of him were mostly just him being a protective dad, always watching over her.

On the last day, Carlos looked at the cameras and sighed. “Are you even making a show about Formula 1 anymore?”

One of the producers grinned. “We’re just following the most interesting story of the weekend.”

Carlos groaned.

Rebecca smirked. “Told you, cariño. You’re not the main character anymore.”

Yn, sitting happily in Carlos’ lap, clapped her hands. “Me!”

Carlos sighed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Yes, baby. You.”

And somehow, he didn’t mind at all.

(And when the episode finally aired, the title was: “Carlos Sainz: Family Man.” He never forgave Netflix for that.)

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