coco-loco-nut

[coco-loco-nut]

High Flyer - Part Five

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

summary: the demands of motherhood and racing are a lot, but with the right support, anything is possible.

a/n: sorry this took FOREVER, I graduated in december and it’s been kinda crazy since

masterlist requests open

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A high pitched wail ring out, soon followed by another.

“I got them, go back to sleep,” Charles whispers. It’s his turn anyway.

“They’re probably hungry,” you groan, shifting in the bed to get up.

“You pumped earlier, I’ll warm some up and get them back to sleep. You have a race in the morning,” he insists.

“Ok, but wake me up if you need help,” you blink tiredly, watching your husband disappear to the next room over in your hotel suite. A glance at the baby monitor tells you that everything is okay as you drift back to sleep.

It’s been an adjustment for you and the team upon your return. Racing with newborns isn’t easy, especially since you are determined to be a present mother. You could barely handle being outside of Europe, so you and Charles decided that the whole family would be traveling.

“Charles, which one should Hervé wear?” you ask, holding two onesies - one a chili pattern and the other a horse pattern.

“The chili, it’ll make Carlos happy,” Charles says distractedly as he cuddles Gabriel who is sporting Ferrari red.

“Alright, aaaaaand baby two is ready,” you smile, picking up the giggling baby.

“Ready to head out?” Charles asks, grabbing the baby bag.

“Yep,” you double check you have everything on your way out of the room.

“My babies,” Arthur reaches out to steal Gabriel from Charles. He was able to get a seat at Haas for the year alongside Ollie. “He’s wearing the onesie I got him,” he coos, trying not to wake Gabriel up.

“Is he? We just grabbed red,” you glance at Gabriel, whose top reads ‘I have the best Uncle’. “Yeah, that would be you.”

It isn’t uncommon for the five of you to enter the paddock together, Arthur is really trying to go for brother of the year.

Carlos spots your small group and intercepts you. He shifts his weight awkwardly, clearly a little nervous.

“Could I steal Y/n for a minute?” he asks. He looks down at Hervé in your arms and cracks a smile. “My number one fan,” Carlos chuckles as you split off.

“It’s your home race, I thought you may want the support,” you look down as the baby in your arms who is looking back at you.

“Thank you, Hervé. When you want to kart and your mom isn’t letting you, just let Uncle Carlos know. I’ll give you all the tricks on how to beat her,” Carlos says, voice pitched slightly higher.

“I know you love the babies, but there is clearly something on your mind. What’s wrong?” you cut to the chase, you call it your mom instincts. You picked them up while watching over your grid kids -who have turned out to be amazing brothers.

“I’m leaving Ferrari at the end of the season. I wanted you to hear it from me first,” Carlos says carefully, observing every little muscle you move in reaction.

“Why?”

“Red Bull offered me a better contract. I really wanted to stay here as your teammate, but I just couldn’t refuse,” Carlos attempts to reassure you, but you can’t hide your disappointment.

“As long as you are happy,” you push down any sadness, feeling a bit guilty and selfish.

“Hey, maybe we will get Scuderia Leclerc,” Carlos suggests teasingly, stealing Hervé from you as he speaks.

“I am going to get an espresso, want one?” you ask Carlos as you step into the motorhome.

“No, I’ll get one after baby time,” he says, engrossed in playing with his godson.

You run into Fred, who is also waiting for a coffee. He shifts a little, more anxious than normal.

“Carlos told me he is leaving,” you break the ice, tension loosening.

“Yes, it was a shock at first, but he’s been very helpful in choosing a replacement,” Fred replies, making you curiouser. “As soon as the contract is signed you will be the first to know,” he pats your shoulder and walk away. You take the small cup and return to Carlos who is enthralled with Hervé.

“You know, babies are fun and all until you can’t give them back to their parents,” you smile a little bitterly. You love your kids, but there is something to be said for how hard it is to have a tiny human completely dependent on you.

“What did I do?” Carlos panics as Hervé starts crying.

“Nothing, nothing,” you say calmly, taking your son carefully into your arms. “He’s just hungry, excuse me.”

Carlos watches your eyes soften with affection, it’s like nothing he’s ever seen before. You seem like two different people. Ruthless and cruel as a driver, but warm and loving as a mother. He admires it. You disappear to your drivers room and he steals your untouched espresso.

“Someone’s hungry,” Charles looks amused as the way Hervé’s tiny hand grips your shirt.

“Won’t even let me drink an espresso,” you shakes your head adoringly. Charles locks the door behind you, Gabriel sleeping soundly in the pack and play.

“I don’t blame him, he has the twenty-four seven access that every man dreams of,” Charles jokes as you roll your eyes.

“You have the same access,” you lightly smack your husband’s arm. “Now, wake Gabi up to eat,” you sit down in the plush couch you added to the small space. Charles barely touches Gabi before he cries.

“Shh, it’s okay, your mama will feed you soon,” Charles whispers, sitting beside you and helping you set up.

“At least they are hungry at the right time,” you sigh, leaning against him. With the time on the clock, you should have just enough time to pump, nap, and make it to your pre-race duties. “I really couldn’t do this without you. You are the best support,” you feel your energy drain as you pay careful attention to the babies.

“Mon amour, not only would I do anything for you, I have responsibilities as the babies father too,” Charles kisses your cheek.

“I really don’t know what I would do without you, tu es l’amour de ma vie,” you turn to look at him, love filling your tired eyes. Charles repeats your words, leaning in to kiss you.

“Let me put them down,” Charles says when the twins start falling asleep. You fight the exhaustion setting in to pump so the babies can eat during the race. Charles doesn’t know how you can do it all, so he does his best to channel your strength when taking care of them during the races. As soon as the babies are sleeping, he turns to you and finds you mostly asleep. Charles sits back down on the couch, cuddling you as you drift off.

You wake up to your alarm, a blanket covering you as you lay on Charles.

“Feeling ready?” Charles asks, smoothing your hair.

“As I’ll ever be,” you yawn, nuzzling back into Charles’ side. He fights a laugh, holding you closer. “I don’t wanna get up,” you murmur.

“I know, but you have a strategy meeting then the drivers parade and the race. Plus, it’s the end of the triple header, we have a whole week to lay around the house,” Charles reminds you. He noticed how you struggle with balancing your time on race weekends, especially when it comes to napping. Your team has dealt with your crankiness and forgetfulness, so Charles does his best to help.

“We can sleep in,” you sigh happily.

“As long as the babies let us,”

“I can’t wait for them to grow up. And to think I thought about having more,” you pout, sitting up. A gentle knock sounds through the room.

“Y/n, meeting then workout in five,” Carlos reminds you. You begrudgingly get up from the couch, wishing race weekends were as easy as show up, get in, and drive. You’ve thought about retirement more so far this season than ever before in your career.

The strategy meeting, warm up, and drivers parade drags on, and you return to your drivers room to change.

“Enzo! When did you get in?” you hug your brother-in-law. You knew he was showing up to support Arthur, but you were unsure when he was arriving.

“About an hour ago. I had to come see my nephews and sister,” Enzo squeezes you as Charles gapes.

“What am I? Chopped liver?” Charles asks, affronted that his own brother disregarded him.

“Have you won world championships? Carry my nephews? No. Until you do so, Y/n is more important,” Lorenzo teases, as any good brother does.

“Enzo,” you lightly smack his shoulder. “Why don’t you and Charles go get a coffee while I change,” you suggest, waiting for them to leave before changing.

Sometimes you think that rookie you would be astounded by your pre race routine. Rather than keeping to yourself and clearing headspace, you spent time with your babies and Charles. Headphones on until the last possible minute has turned into talking to your team and Carlos.

“Is it too late to retire?” you joke to yourself, slightly annoyed as you change into your fireproofs.

“Please don’t,” you turn around, catching Charles unabashedly checking you out.

“Charles!” you gasp scandalously, pulling your race suit over your shoulders. You didn’t realize he returned without Lorenzo.

“Ma cherie,” he laughs, standing up and wrapping his arms around you.

“I have to go, I’ll see you in the garage?” you press a kiss to his lips, melting into his arms before bending down to put on your boots.

“Of course, drink some water on the way,” he says, handing you your water.

“See you soon,” you squeeze his hand, rushing to the garage for final checks and to bring the car out. Charles appears before you get into the car for warm up laps.

“Safe and sound, asleep in your room,” Charles shows you the baby monitor as you braid back your hair.

“Awww, soon they will be old enough to be in the garage,” you smile, heart swelling with unimaginable love. “Hopefully by then I have a few more championships,” you chuckle, finishing the braid and putting your ear monitors in.

“You can do it, I’ll be here after the anthem,” Charles says, helping you finish getting ready and into your car.

“I’ll be back,” your eyes crinkle as your flip your visor down. Charles backs up as your crew surrounds the car.

Your brain switches into go mode. You haven’t won this race yet, third on the podium is the closest you’ve gotten so your pole position is a welcome advantage.

Charles watches you battle, and when you have a healthy lead with fifteen laps left, he returns to your drivers room to feed the babies and bring them to the parc ferme. Arthur bought them little headphones to protect their ears right after they were born.

“Ready to see your mommy,” Lorenzo grabs Gabriel from Charles when he walks back into the garage after watching from Haas.

“You could always help feed and change them, you know,” Charles suggests, watching you push on your final lap.

“Hey, you’re the father. I’m just the uncle who gets to enjoy the baby time. Hopefully more next year,” Lorenze makes funny faces at Gabi who babbles and giggles.

“Next year?”

“Did I say next year? I meant next week,” Lorenzo brushes it off. “I love you, but if you spit up on my polo, you are going right back to your father. He isn’t as fun as I am,” Lorenzo warns Gabi. All he gets is a blank stare and gummy smile.

“She’s done it!” Charles cheers as you cross the line. Lorenzo and Charles are careful to make their way to the front. As soon as you see Charles and Lorenzo standing with the kids, you audibly squeal. Arthur rushes over from his car after weighing in to congratulate you. He finished in the points, but just outside the podium.

“Oh my god,” happy tears well in your eyes. “You don’t think I could bring them to the podium, do you?” you ask Arthur who just amusedly shakes his head.

“Marketing would love it though,” Arthur chuckles.

“Oh, let me go take off my helmet and weigh in,” you rush away, wanting to get back to your family as fast as possible.

“Great race!” Carlos pats your shoulder after you weigh in.

“Thanks, I gotta go see my babies,” you throw on your P1 hat and return to where your babies are being entertained by Fred and Arthur.

“Hand them here,” you extend your arms, joyful look momentarily turning deadly as you give the security a warning glance. You step against the barrier, leaning against Charles as Lorenzo takes a photo.

“Fantastic drive, mon amour,” Charles kisses your cheek. You are to distracted by the babies for a proper kiss.

“Family photo, get in Arthur and Lorenzo,” Fred cuts in.

“Oh, Maman will love this,” Arthur smiles.

“Hello, little ones! Who are the best grid babies,” you are surprised a little bit by Ollie’s baby talk behind you, but that goes away when you realize it’s him. “Interview time,” Ollie says, a twinge of sadness in his voice as you hand the babies back.

“That includes me, the media waits for no one,” Arthur shakes his head, leaving for the media pen.

“My first podium with my son,” you wrap an arm around Ollie as you head towards Hinchcliffe.

“I’m excited for the family dinner next week,” Ollie tells you. He’s said as much all week, well, all of your grid kids have.

“I love having my kids around. You don’t always have to wait for an invite,” you remind him. You have a guest room specifically for your grid kids.

“I know. I just don’t want to impose, or interfere with any chances of another sibling,” Ollie laughs as Carlos finishes his interview.

“Well, the next time I have another kid will be when I’m retired,” you shake your head, giving Ollie a little nudge forward.

Later in your driver’s room, Arthur and Lorenzo claim the couch, watching you and Charles clean and pack. You showered immediately after getting back to the room, sticky from champagne then fed the babies while Charles relaxed for a few minutes after he spend hours caring for them alone.

“I just wonder who Fred will get to replace Carlos. It will be weird not having him as my teammate,” you vent, taking shirts off hangers.

“Me,” Arthur reveals, causing both you and Charles to stop packing.

“Really?” your eyes widen, praying it isn’t a joke.

“Scuderia Leclerc is real! I haven’t told Maman yet, I am waiting to finalize the contract,” Arthur lets out a grunt as you and Charles practically tackle him.

“I’m so proud I could cry,”

“You are,” Arthur panics a little as tears roll down your cheeks. You swat away his hand, grabbing a tissue to dry your eyes.

“Stupid hormones,” you wave the tissue.

“You sure you aren’t pregnant again?” Lorenzo teases.

“You and Ollie both today,” you shake your head, composing yourself. “Not until I’m retired. It’s hard on Cha and I to raise the twins on the road,” you sit on the bench, busying your hands with folding.

“Maman is going to start bothering you about children soon too,” Charles turns the attention back to Arthur. Lorenzo nods in agreement, happy to put Arthur in the hot seat.

“I’m too young,” Arthur defends himself as you stifle a laugh.

“You aren’t much younger than me. Charles, Enzo, can you get Arthur and I a water and a snack? The race was brutal,” you ask. With a nod, Charles heads out to the main hospitality area to get a couple bottles. Lorenzo seems suspicious, but follows anyway.

“You’ve thought about retiring,” Arthur states like it’s common knowledge. Sure there have been rumors, but they are from untrustworthy sources.

“It’s crossed my mind. I wasn’t lying, it would be much easier to stay home and raise the twins. But I want them to see me race and win. On the other hand, I don’t want to race so long that I can’t have another,” you frown, leaning back against the wall.

“I get it. You could always take time off again. It isn’t unheard of to come out of retirement. Not that you have to right now, but in five years maybe,” Arthur suggests.

“I’ve never seen myself anywhere other than Ferrari. The chances of them bringing me back on again are so small,”

“Even if you go to Williams, you’d at least be racing,” Arthur points out.

“Michael returned and went to Mercedes. Fernando retired for a few years, twice. A couple years off in the future does sound nice. Especially if I return before a rookie takes my number,” you consider the possibilities.

“Well, it isn’t happening yet, no point in dwelling on it,” Arthur stands up and helps you pack.

“Dwelling on what?” Charles asks, handing you a water bottle. Lorenzo follows with a plate of snacks.

“What our names will look like when shortened,” you smoothly lie.

“I’m sure they will do the same thing as they did before,” Charles goes along with it. You and Arthur snack while Lorenzo and Charles pack.

“Let’s get back to the hotel before the kids wake up,” you say as you zip up your bag. Arthur grabs the diaper bag and one car seat as Charles grabs another bag and the other car seat.

“No partying tonight?” Kimi asks, running into you as you leave Ferrari.

“No, I leave that to you young people. I’m too old for that, unless I’ve won a championship,” you shake your head. Who would’ve thought that you’d turn into a homebody.

“You aren’t that old, you are what? 26?” Kimi asks.

“Oh honey, try 29. Go have fun, we will see you soon,” you send him off to where other drivers are waiting - plus Fernando. The guy is almost 50 and parties like the rookies. He retired twice and still came back to drive again.

“You could party too,” Lorenzo tells Arthur. Arthur just shakes his head, adjusting the weight of the bag.

“No, I am looking forward to a soft bed and greasy food,” Arthur declares, mind anywhere but partying until late.

“Dinner with Maman on Monday, don’t forget,” Lorenzo reminds your small group before getting into his car.

The rest of the night is a blur, getting dinner, feeding the babies, getting them to sleep. Charles collapses into the bed beside you after showering.

“Arthur and I were talking about me retiring,” you say into the darkness, causing Charles to wake up from his drowsy state.

“What? Why?”

“Well, I want the kids to remember me racing, and I also want to maybe have a little girl but without returning immediately. I won’t do it immediately, I need a couple more championships under my belt,” you explain quietly. Charles wraps an arm around you, rubbing small circles onto your arm and resting his head on your shoulder.

“I understand. It’s your choice when it happens, and if you decide down the road that you don’t want another baby then i will support that too,” Charles replies sleepily. “You deserve to enjoy your job for as long as possible while also having the life you want.”

“You are thinking about me being pregnant again, aren’t you?” a grin creeps onto your face, reaching to run a hand through his hair.

“Maybe. I can’t help it, you just look so sexy all the time,” Charles shifts so he can get a better look at you in the dark.

“I can and will say the same thing about you. You know, it’s never too early to start practicing,” your hand curls slightly in his hair as you pull him down to kiss you.

And practice you do. Many, many, many times over the next four years.

“Arthur! Have you seen Gabi?” you ask, hoping you don’t have to run around the paddock looking for your toddler. Hervé is his daddy’s boy, always stuck to Charles, but Gabi is your runner.

“No, but Kimi was just here not long ago,” Arthur pops out of his drivers room.

“Him and his uncles, what am I going to do with him?” you rest your head against the wall.

“Relax, one of your grid kids will return him. Just enjoy your last race,” Arthur smiles, excited for your retirement surprise after the race.

“Relax? When have I ever done that?” you fight a smile. The past few years have been great. You rewon your title and kept it, now you are fighting for your fifth.

“Are you worried that I’ll take your championship?” Arthur has been on your heels all year, and while you are proud, a little breathing room in the championship would be nice.

“No,” you don’t sound convincing at all.

“Good, fear me,” Arthur dodges your attempt to hit his arm.

“Y/n, I cannot believe you sent a spy,” you turn around to see Gabi hanging off of Toto, who doesn’t look or sound mad despite his words.

“Mr. Wolff, I am so sorry,” you rush to grab your son, who is just laughing despite your frantic apologies.

“Don’t be, it’s just like when Jack was little. I just couldn’t let Kimi bring him to our strategy meeting,” Toto chuckles. Your boy really does have the paddock wrapped around his finger.

“Wanna play with my new toy?” Arthur asks Gabi, code for the zippers on his backpack. Arthur follows Gabi into his drivers room.

“You will be missed around here. You know that, don’t you?” Toto asks, seeing the young racer hungry for a seat. He tried to sign you back then but the stakeholders were against it.

“Well, I would hope so, I’ve been around for a long time,” you joke in an attempt to not tear up. Since you announced your retirement the fan tributes and statements from other drivers have made you an emotional wreck.

“I know this isn’t the end for you, you have the spirit of a true racer and not one ready to permanently retire. Now, I know that all you know is Ferrari, but it would be a shame to never see you drive again. Let’s talk over the winter break,” Toto says before leaving. Any thoughts of crying turns to joy sparking inside you.

You lean back against the wall, taking in the details of the motorhome.

“Don’t start reminiscing now, you haven’t even retired yet,” a familiar voice pulls you out of your trance.

“Seb! What are you doing here?” you gasp, pushing off the wall to give your former teammate a hug.

“Well, I had to come watch you race one last time,” Seb looks at you proudly. “You are still my eager young teammate, hungry for a podium.”

“Sure, old man. You are just mad we have the same amount of title. Tell it to me straight, how bad is retirement?”

“Oh, seeing your children grow up erases any pain of not racing,” Seb reassures you.

“Right,”

“It’s okay to miss it, you’ve spent your whole life racing,” you look around the hallway and drag Seb into your driver room.

“I want to return to racing,” you admit like it’s a scandal.

“Does Ferrari know that?” Seb asks, worried about the possibility of you returning.

“Yes, but Fred hasn’t said anything about a space being open in the future,” you frown.

“Ferrari isn’t everything. Plenty of us retired with another team,”

“But Ferrari are the only ones who supported me and took a chance on me,”

“That’s not true. Plenty of teams considered giving you offers,”

“But they didn’t.”

“Y/n, if you even give an inkling to the press that you want to return, teams will reach out. Trust me,”

“Well, Toto did just say something that sounded suspiciously close to an offer,”

“Then negotiate. Surprise the world and come back,” Seb encourages you. Before he left Ferrari, he promised he would always be in your corner. The same promise you’ve given to anyone you’ve driven with, except for Arthur. He’s a special case, you don’t want to make him think you are the reason for thing he achieved himself.

“Thanks Seb, you always know what to say,” you exhale a deep breath. “Why are you really here?”

“Ferrari is throwing you a surprise retirement party after the race. They invited former teammates and drivers you were close to,” Seb reveals, you knew there would be a party anyway.

“So you don’t care about my championship? How rude,” you tease as he heads to the door.

“Yeah yeah, go train and get ready for the race,” Seb leaves you alone, hoping you don’t stay in your head.

“Oh, let’s train in your room today!” your trainer blocks you from entering your usual training spot.

“Okay,” you try to peer around him, but get corralled away from the room.

Once you return to your room, you find Charles playing on the floor with Hervé and Gabi.

“Everyone is acting strange today, even Arthur,” you sigh, getting ready for your final meeting in the garage before the installation lap.

“They think you don’t know about the party. I’m going to miss this view,” Charles watches you pull on your fireproofs and race suit.

“These are coming home with me, don’t worry,” you wink. Charles stands up so he can do your hair.

“I’m so proud of everything you’ve accomplished,” Charles whispers, hugging you from behind after he ties off the braid.

“I wouldn’t be here without you,” You wrap your arms around his, leaning into him.

“Mama, up,” Hervé reaches up at you, his sleepy blue eyes fighting a nap. You pull away from Charles, leaning down to pick him up. A quick knock sounds through the room before your door opens.

“Ready to head to the garage?” Arthur asks. It hits him that the next time you will all be like this, you won’t be his teammate.

“Yeah,” you shift Hervé’s weight, ready to hand him off to Charles before Arthur stops you.

“Let’s bring them with us, they won’t be a bother,” Arthur suggests. Charles follows behind you, the backpack full of kid essentials. Gabi holds your hand, having chosen to walk beside you.

When you get to the garage, the crew starts applauding and you lose it. Tears stream down your face as you look around.

“I promised myself that I wouldn’t cry. I love you all so much, you are the best team I could ask for. Today’s drive is for all of you,” you thank them, letting go of Gabi’s hand to wipe the tears away. Arthur wraps an arm around your shoulders, giving you a side hug.

“Alright boys, let’s let mommy work,” Charles says quietly, taking the boys out of the garage. You put on your headset, trying to get back into the zone.

“You have been and will continue to hear this a lot this weekend, but thank you for everything you’ve done for the Scuderia. You have created a legacy of excellence and your name will be remembered forever by the Tifosi and Ferrari,” Fred starts the meeting. You mouth a simple thank you as the strategists and engineers take over. Arthur grabs your hand and gives it a quick squeeze. You squeeze back before letting go, letting him know you are okay.

After the meeting you take extra time to talk with your team and thank them, making a mental note to add a handwritten note for them on this year’s Christmas card. You and Arthur do some final warm ups, getting your reflexes up to speed before you get into the car.

“One last installation lap,” you tell Charles, a bittersweet smile on your face. You get your earpieces in, watching Charles hand your gloves to the boys.

“You two wanna help Mommy get ready?” Charles asks, still not sure how much they can hear with the headphones on.

“Yeah!” they reply in unison. Twin telepathy has to be real. You pull your balaclava on and put the helmet on before holding your hands out. Charles helps each of them put a glove on.

“Y/n! Time to head out,” one of your engineers tells you.

“I’ll see you after the lap?” you ask Charles, knowing the answer. He kisses the top of the helmet, sending you on your way.

The world fades away on your lap, it’s just you, the car, and the track. There’s no thoughts of retirement or the championship, it’s like you are one with the car. You relay the necessary information to the team before getting out. Normally you’d take the umbrella and head right back to the garage, but today you don’t mind hanging around and enjoying the excitement. Kimi, Ollie, Jack, and Oscar come find you.

“When I first met you guys, you were lanky boys. Now look at you, all grown up,” you tell them. Their thin frames bulked with muscle, no longer the young adults you took under your wing. Each of them designed special helmets with little tributes to you. Ollie’s has a mama bear and a cub, Kimi has a phrase in Italian, Oscar has your racing number on his helmet, and Jack has a grandma emoji on his.

“Promise you’ll visit often?” Kimi asks, a little scared to lose you and your advice.

“Of course. I will miss my boys. I may not be here every weekend, but you all are always welcome in my home. We will still have dinners,” you promise, extending an arm in an invitation for a group hug. Ollie launches himself into you, Kimi following right after.

“I’ll take care of them,” Oscar promises, having adopted more rookies of his own.

“I know you will,” you smile, watching them tear off one by one to do their pre race rituals.

“Thank you for being the best grid grandma,” Jack thanks you.

“I’ll send you cookies,” you promise before turning to Ollie. “There’s no one else I’d rather take my seat,” you tell Ollie, especially proud of him. He was the first person you suggested to Fred.

“I’ll honor you with it,” Ollie promises before leaving you alone again.

“Do you have a moment for our F1 TV viewers?” Will Buxton asks. It’s rare to get a driver interview at this point of a race day, so you indulge him.

“I suppose so,” you adjust the umbrella so it blocks more of the sun.

“What is going through your mind today?” Will starts, asking the question that every reporter wants to know.

“A lot. There are so many memories and things I’m grateful for, I just want to take it all in. A lot has changed since I first stepped foot in the paddock. I think I’ve spend most of my day trying not to cry at all the tributes and thoughtful things everyone has to say. It just means so much to me that my kids have had the chance to see me drive as well,” you try to articulate the whirlwind of things you feel.

“I think it’s safe to say you’ve cemented yourself in F1 history. Any thoughts for the fans watching here and at home?”

“Thank you, for your support and criticism. I know driver dominance is hard to watch as fans. Four, hopefully five, championships later, I’m just grateful to have had the chance to drive. I don’t think this is the last you will see of me, maybe I’ll try rally or something,” you joke.

“Well, I can say for all of us that we are excited to see what you do next. Thank you for your time and congratulations on your retirement,” Will says before the camera cuts. “I can’t say this live, but I certainly hope you retire as Champion of the World. Keep an eye on your phone, we are looking for guest commentators next season,” Will tells you. You thank him before heading back to the garage.

For once, the celebrity guests are former Ferrari drivers and personnel. It’s nice spending the bit of time before the anthem reconnecting. Hell, even Max returned. He retired the year after you came back from pregnancy, holding to the statement that he would retire earlier than fans would expect.

“Good luck, Mommy,” Hervé hugs you before you leave the garage, kissing your cheek.

“Thank you, baby,” you hug him tightly. Gabi is currently talking Arthur’s ear off, well as much as he can for a four year old.

“Give Mommy a good luck hug, Gabi,” you tell him. He rushes over to hug you. Charles stops talking to Arthur to wish you luck. You stand up, Gabi hugging you leg.

“Good luck, show them why you are a four time world champion,” Charles kisses you. Arthur gags across the garage.

“Thank you,” you whisper against his lips.

“Alright love birds, I don’t want a fine for being late,” Arthur calls to you. You begrudgingly step away, waving goodbye to the twins. You and Arthur share the umbrella as you stand on the track.

“Don’t give me the win, I want to fight for it like I have every year,” you say quietly, knowing Arthur would sacrifice his title to let you go out a champion.

“Wasn’t planning on it. The only way I will back down if if given team orders,” Arthur tells you.

“Don’t listen to that, unless we would crash,” you insist. Just because you are retiring doesn’t mean you should get hand outs, unless it’s in the form of money.

“It’s been an honor getting to drive with you as my teammate. I never thought you would be my sister, or teammate, or best friend, but here we are. Thank you,” Arthur hugs you when you get to your cars, your final front row lockout.

“Thank you for being the best little brother, and a great teammate. Love you, Thur,” you hug him back. Fighting any tears that threaten to spill.

“Don’t cry, you’ll be back in a few years. I just know it,” Arthur reassures you as he pulls away.

“And you will be world champion, just not this year,” you grin, heading to your car to get your helmet on and get into the car. Before you climb in, you look around at the crew. “Thank you all, I wouldn’t be successful without your hard work,” you tell them, your sincere tone adding to their motivation.

You climb in, instantly entering race mode. All sentimental emotions leaving as you focus on the race. Time ticks away and it’s just you and the car, waiting for the green light on the formation lap. You’ve done thousands of laps, and it’s time to add 58 more.

The team watches as you drive effortlessly, defending and attacking like it’s your second nature. And an hour and a half later, you cross the finish line one last time for Ferrari as a champion.

“Y/n Leclerc, once again, you are Champion of the World. Thank you for everything you have done for us at Ferrari, it’s been an honor being your race engineer,” your engineer tells you as you cross the line.

“We did it,” you fight the tears, trying to focus on the track. “Thank you everyone, for all the hours, hard work, and late nights that you’ve put in. We’ve spent so much time together and I will remember this forever. This championship is all for you. Thank you Tifosi for all your support, through the ups and downs you were there. Forza Ferrari Sempre,” you say before turning the radio off, driving a little slower on your cool down lap than you normally would.

You don’t jump out immediately after parking the car. You sit a few extra seconds, taking your time removing the steering wheel and seat belt. When you stand on top of the car, the crowd roars.

“You did it!” Arthur cheers, hugging you as soon as you get out of the car.

“Let’s go see the team,” you pat his back. Running to the sea of red one last time.

It’s hard to imagine what will come next in those moments of pure joy.

You and Charles spend the next year enjoying being parents, and you do hop into the commentary booth for a few weekends. Toto reaches out, extending a contract offer whenever you are ready to take it. You talk when you attend races to cheer on your grid kids and Arthur. And following your own footsteps, you reveal your pregnancy to the public the next year - a healthy baby girl named Emilia Vittoria who is spoiled by her racing family.

Carlos is the second person to take Hervé and Gabi karting, you gifted them their own for their fifth birthday. Arthur had the honor of being the first since you were pregnant at the time.

After being away for four years, you rejoin the grid beside Kimi, racing for another four years before retiring for the last time. You don’t win another WDC, but you get to enjoy it while it lasted and retire happy.

[coco-loco-nut]

i will now officially enter a period of mourning 😭 RIP my championship hope and dreams 😞

[coco-loco-nut]

WHO WAS GONNA TELL ME MERC HAD A POP UP IN NYC?!?!

Ya girl just drove her first sim and only went into the wall once 🫡

[coco-loco-nut]

Hi! I really loved high flyer, i think you're amazing in what you are doing <3 can i request something about this same story? Maybe something like a little fluff scenario, whatever you feel comfortable with

i’ve been slowly chipping away at a part 5! between finals, graduation, and the holidays i haven’t had as much time to write it, but it is in progress 🫡

[coco-loco-nut]

so desperate for a job i’m applying for soccer teams. SOCCER! if i get so desperate i apply to basketball teams, someone can off me

[coco-loco-nut]

Chasing Desire

pairing: charles x reader

summary: you never meant to fall in love, but you didn’t plan on being in a love triangle with your best friend and his older brother either

a/n: i’ve been writing a lot of charles recently, sorry, but he’s been a part of my rare inspiration lately... also apologies for the novel

masterlist requests open

——————————

“Are you sure you’re the professional driver?” you ask, pulling off your helmet. The smell of gasoline a familiar comfort on the race track.

“I let you win,” Arthur lies.

“And you, Charles?” you look to your best friend’s brother, who is either staring at you or something behind you.

“Um, same thing. You know, being an F1 driver and all,” Charles stutters, snapping out of wherever his mind is.

“Sure, you just can’t admit you lost to a retired driver,” you laugh, letting the race suit drop to your hips.

“Whatever makes you feel better,” Arthur slings an arm around your shoulder and you feel a sort of butterflies in your chest, the ones that you push away every time.

There is no way you can be crushing on Arthur, your best friend since he returned to karting. You’ve been almost inseparable ever since. You’ve both seen each through hardships. He was there when Prema dropped you when you ran out of funding in F3 last season and no driver academy wanted you. You were there when he was struggling in F2.

“Get away, Thur, you reek,” you gag for added effect.

“I want ice cream. Let’s go get some,” Charles interrupts, causing you to almost jump away.

You clear your throat, looking back at the track. “Yeah, that sounds good,” you agree, almost wanting to disappear back into the locker room.

In the locker room you stare at yourself in the mirror.

“Quit it, that’s Arthur, your best friend,” you tell yourself. Ollie always joked that you followed Arthur like a lost puppy, but you never believed him. Well, until now.

“Everything okay?” Charles asks. opening the door to his car for you.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” your brows furrow as you take a seat on the cool Italian leather.

“You just seem off,” Charles shrugs, brushing it off when you don’t reply. He looks up into the rearview mirror, silently asking Arthur if he has an idea. A simple shrug from Arthur confirms that he doesn’t know either. Maybe you have an exam coming up? They just don’t know. “So, how’s school?” Charles tries again, getting success when you look up from your phone.

“It’s fine. I’m on track to graduate early, but the job search isn’t great,” you frown, a little hesitant to talk about the last part.

“How? You were an incredible driver, surely that looks good on your resume?” Arthur asks, jumping in before Charles can offer you a job.

“Well, you’d be surprised to know that driving apparently does not really provide direct experience in data science,” you huff, turning your phone off as you cross your arms. It’s hard enough since you started university late.

“Oh! Ferrari is-“

“No,” you and Arthur reply at the same time. The butterflies start to return as you glance out the window.

“It’s called using your resources and network, it’s not like I’m directly getting you a job,” Charles tries to reason.

“As soon as I write your name, they will hire me. I want to be hired on my own merit,”

“But,”

“No buts,” you don’t dare to speak out loud what you want to add. It would crush Charles.

He tried so hard when Arthur revealed you didn’t have funding to get a team to pick you up. He talked to other drives, team principals, engineers, anyone. He had no luck, and when you found out it crushed you. Not only were you not good enough, any offer you would even receive would be because of Charles. From that moment you vowed that every single accomplishment going forward would be of your own merit.

“Ooo, we are here,” Charles cuts the tension, putting the car in park. You’ve never met anyone who loves ice cream more, even when it’s a bit chilly.

“Are you excited to go to Greece?” Arthur asks and you nod, practically feeling the sun on your skin.

“I cannot wait for finals to end and fly out,”

“Where exactly are you going?”

“Mykonos,”

“I’m so jealous,” Arthur groans, thinking about how much nicer it would be.

“I bet, certainly nicer than racing,” you chuckle.

“What is?” Charles turns towards you in the line.

“Greece,” Arthur answers for you. You simply nod, thinking about the white sand beaches.

“Oh, when are you going?” Charles asks. You are a bit thrown off at his prying today, but shrug it off as him not having seen you in a while.

“Before Austria. I’ll fly from Mykonos to Spielberg,” you answer before placing your order.

Charles watches as you chat with Arthur. The bright lights illuminate your smile, a crinkle in the corners of you eyes, and how you look like Arthur holds the world in his hands. You lean into Arthur as he tells you something that must be funny, because your laugh floats through the air. It’s one of those moments where Pascale or Lorenzo would make a comment. One that Charles wishes deep down was about him and how the two of you belong together.

Arthur attends your graduation, sending plenty of pictures to the family group chat and even making a sweet post on Instagram about it. And then you are in Greece, a couple of your girlfriends accompanying you for the first week.

“Hey, how’s day three going?” Arthur asks as soon as you pick up.

“Good, I’m exploring the town right now. What’s up?” you ask. Arthur called earlier in the day then planned, worrying you a little.

“I couldn’t wait to tell you. I got a girlfriend,” Arthur says excitedly. You feel your heart drop to your stomach. “Y/n?” Arthur’s voice snaps you out of your trance.

“Sorry, I was looking at a pastry. That’s great news, I’m so happy for you,” you say, even though you don’t feel like it. Your mind drifts as Arthur tells you about her and something in you shatters a little.

“I’m so sorry,” you pull your phone away from your ear as you bump into someone. “I gotta go, Thur. Call you later,” you quickly hang up, staring into a beautiful pair of brown eyes.

“I’m not,” the man smiles back as you feel your cheeks flush. He stands out against the white buildings that surround you.

“You aren’t?” you brush a stray hair back behind your ear.

“No, not if I get to meet a beautiful woman such as yourself,” he replies smoothly. Your heart doesn’t know what to feel, it went from zero to one hundred very quick.

“I’m Y/n, nice to meet you,” you extend your hand. The man takes it and kisses the back.

“Achileas, but my friends call me Achi. You look familiar, do I know you from somewhere?” he asks.

“Not unless you live in Monaco,” you shake your head, suddenly aware that you are standing in the middle of the street. Achileas notices as well and subtly ushers you towards a cafe.

“Hm, you are a race car driver, no?”

“I was, not anymore. How did you know?” you are shocked, it is rare someone would recognize you.

“Of course I remember the pretty girl who won the sprint race in Monaco. The fans were so excited, it was the first time I paid attention to a non F1 race,” he says, making you feel important. Monaco, your final win in F3, and a home win nonetheless.

“I don’t know what to say, I’m honestly so flattered,” you tilt your head down, trying to hide the blush.

“Can I ask why you don’t race anymore?” he asks after both of you order at a table.

“I, um, ran out of funding. Couldn’t put myself through university and race at the same time. No team wanted to sign me to their driver academy and that was that,” you tell him. It still stings to admit, but you are proud of how far you got.

“I’m sorry. You seemed like a great driver,” Achileas says, putting his hand over yours.

“I still watch my friends race, it’s enough for me. What do you do?”

“I act in the United States,” he smiles, gladly letting you turn the attention to him.

“That’s so cool, what brings you here then?” you follow, curious about the Greek man in front of you.

“Ah, well there’s no point in hiding it. I’m a Prince of Greece. Purely symbolic, my family holds no power, just a title,” he reveals to you, catching you off guard. You expected something simple, like a vacation, not being royal.

“Oh, wow. And you made being a failed driver sound cool,” you quickly recover from your shock. You try to act like you do around Charles, like there is nothing that makes them different from you.

“Hey, it is cool. You probably know a lot of great drivers, including yourself,”

“I mean, yeah. I’m best friends with Arthur Leclerc and I do know Charles pretty well. But that’s no where near the same level as being an actual prince.”

“Let’s agree that they are both equally cool. Can’t be fighting on our first date, no?” His suave smile disarms you, sending your head spinning.

“No,” you agree.

One date slowly turns into dinner the next evening, and breakfast the morning after, to a spending the whole day together.

Charles watches your socials just for a glimpse of you. You post stories of your outings, or you laying on the beach, but Charles assumes that your friends are taking the photos, until the second week.

Arthur’s phone rings shortly after hanging up with you. He begrudgingly answers, not in the mood to speak anymore. “What’s up, Charles?”

“Did you see Y/n’s Instagram post?” Charles asks, trying to sound calm, but it just comes out rushed.

“Yeah, what about it? She’s having a great time,” Arthur sighs. He knows how Charles looks at you protectively, but didn’t realize it was anything other than in a little sister way.

“She’s cuddled up to some guy on the beach. And that guy is a prince. She’s with a prince, Arthur. An actual prince, not in a figurative way like me!”

“Yeah, that’s her boyfriend. They met last week,”

“How do you even compete with that?” Charles exasperates.

“I thought you didn’t like her like that?” Arthur asks, a foreign irritated feeling lacing his voice.

“I lied,” Charles frowns, plotting his next move.

“Just… don’t fuck it up for her. She seems really happy,” Arthur sighs before hanging up.

The sand is soft underneath you as you lay on top of your beach towel. Achi lays beside you, watching you flip the pages of your book. He has a small smile on his face, amused at your facial expressions and how you seem to read faster. He leans in, brushing away a stray hair that you keep trying to blow away, only to startle you out of your trance.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” his voice is soft, watching you mark the page you are on.

“No, it’s okay. I want to spend time with you,” you smile, turning your attention to him. You leave far too soon for your liking, you’d happily stay here.

“Well, I would hope so,” he chuckles, wrapping his arms around you as you shift close to him. He presses a kiss to your shoulder, content in the moment with you.

“I don’t want to leave,”

“Then stay the summer here with me. Or until you decide what you are doing next,”

“I have to go to Austria, but I could be convinced to return,” a playful smile makes its way to your face as Achileas flips you underneath him, arms on both sides of you.

“Is this convincing enough?”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” you giggle, tilting your chin up as he leans down to kiss you. It starts slow, teasing yet sincere, turning into a passion that urges you to stay. “Okay,” you whisper as your lips part. You watch his eyes light up, excited that you agreed to stay.

“I can’t wait,” he grins, moving from on top of you.

“I will miss you while I’m away,” you frown slightly. You’ve fallen into a comfort that you never expected. For the first time ever, you haven’t found yourself thinking about Arthur or the crush that has been haunting you.

“I think you will survive, but I could always join you,” you perk up a little. Why hadn’t you thought of that?

“You’d do that?”

“Of course. I can watch with a professional, and I’m sure I could acquire a pass,” Achileas smiles, mentally planning it all.

“I’d love for you to join me,” you don’t even hesitate.

“Why don’t we head out?” he suggests, standing up and offering you a hand. You take it and quickly pack up. You walk hand in hand through the town, before a sound makes you pause.

“Did you hear that?” you ask, turning towards a small alley.

“It sounded like a meow,” Achi says, letting you search. You find a vibrant orange kitten in distress.

“You poor baby,” your voice is soft as the kitten approaches you. You look up at Achi, eyes asking what to do.

“The kitten seems to need help and it’s all alone. I don’t see an issue with helping it,” he shrugs. You carefully pick the kitten up and hold it to your chest.

“Do you think I could keep it?”

“We can do some research. Let’s get some food for it,”

“It’s a boy,” you smile as you quickly check the kitten’s gender. “I’m going to name you Leo,” Achi is amused and in awe at how tenderly you are caring for the kitten. It’s the greenest possible flag.

You wait outside the store as Achi buys some food for the kitten. As you wait, you send a picture to the group chat you have with Arthur and Charles, telling them that you are trying to adopt the kitten.

The last couple days of your trip is spent planning arraignments for your return and for Achileas to attend the race with you. Leo is staying at the vet, receiving treatment then getting neutered so you can officially adopt him.

“Arthur!” you wave, practically dragging your boyfriend through the paddock in search of the Leclercs. You find them talking to Pierre near the Alpine garage.

“Y/n! You look great, the sun treated you well,” Arthur hugs you tight.

“The sun isn’t the only thing that treated me well. This is Achileas, my boyfriend. Achileas, this is my best friend, Arthur,” you introduce them.

“You really need to cool it on the death glare,” Pierre tells Charles who is looking between you and the tall Greek man behind you. The sun-kissed glow of your skin makes Charles fall harder, and your closeness to Achileas makes him want to puke.

“What death glare? I’m not jealous,” Charles says defensively.

“You are literally in love with your brothers best friend. You hate her boyfriend without ever having met him. You adopted a dog two days ago and named it after her kitten that she rescued the day before. But you aren’t jealous?” Pierre raises an eyebrow.

“Well, when you put it that way,” Charles trails off, looking at the way you lean into Achileas’ touch, his arm securely around your waist as if it was meant to be there.

“It’s funny, she always followed Arthur around like a lost puppy. I always assumed they would get together once they figured out they liked eachother, but now they are dating different people,” Pierre continues, not being a help to Charles’ mental health.

“That’s not true, he doesn’t like her like that,”

“That you know of. Just like how he didn’t know you like his best friend until recently,” Pierre continues.

“Charles, come say hi to your guest,” Arthur calls his brother over.

“I missed you,” Charles wraps his arms around you, holding the hug for a second longer than normal. You are thrown off by it all. Charles has never said something like that before, and what gives him the right to hug you that long.

“Yeah,” you pat his back awkwardly as he lets go. “Meet my boyfriend, Achileas,” you step back so they can shake hands.

“Charles Leclerc, I race for Ferrari,” Charles puffs his chest slightly, trying to intimidate but he just comes off like an asshole. Pierre and Arthur do their best to avoid rolling their eyes.

“I’m going to go say hi to Pierre,” you are clearly thrown off a little by Charles, but allow them to interrogate your boyfriend while you speak to the Frenchman.

“Alright, what’s going on?”

“No idea. Probably just trying to get a read on your Greek warrior,” Pierre shrugs, keeping Charles secrets even if he would normally gossip with you.

“He is isn’t he?” you look dreamily at your boyfriend, who seems to need saving.

“Sure. I’ll see you later,” Pierre leaves, having a job to do.

“Should I be worried?” Achileas asks as soon as the two of you are out of earshot, well you think you are.

“About who?”

“Charles,”

“Not at all, I don’t get what girls see in him, but maybe that’s from growing up with him.” You shrug. Your mind briefly drifts to how weird Charles was acting. Does he not want to be your friend anymore? Why was he so standoffish to Achileas. Meanwhile, Charles feels a stab in his heart at your words. Maybe he never did stand a chance.

“Sorry to cut in, but I need to do my best friend duties. You can meet us back at Ferrari,” Arthur says, pulling your boyfriend away from you. You are left with Charles and Pierre, who just stare back at you.

“Well, I have a team meeting and this feels awkward, so I’m gonna go,” Pierre disappears into the garage. You stand in the awkward silence for a minute before turning to walk back to Ferrari hospitality.

“Y/n, wait,” you feel a gentle tug as your arm as Charles catches up with you. “Is there something wrong?” he asks, brows furrowed as you barely meet his eyes.

“I get this feeling that you don’t like my boyfriend. Why?” you ask, watching Charles fumble for his words. “If you can’t be happy for me like Arthur is, and like I am for Arthur, I don’t know if we can be friends.”

“No, no, I am happy for you. I just didn’t expect to see him here,” Charles lies, not wanting to ruin anything. He feels like he’s barely hanging on to your relationship.

“Well you certainly aren’t acting like it,” you frown. Charles reaches out, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. You jerk, quickly stepping out of the small embrace. “What are you doing?”

“I- well, I, um,“ Charles stutters, confused at your coldness. “I was going to give you a hug and apologize,” he watches your eyes narrow before there is a shift of resolve.

“Just, don’t be weird,” you shake your head. The walk back is silent. Charles looks at you oddly, a mix of concern and confusion.

He keeps a bit of distance the rest of the weekend, watching you explain different aspects of racing. Arthur expressed his approval, making things somehow worse for Charles.

“Cha,” you call him over to you on his way to the garage before the race.

“Everything ok?”

“Yeah, just wanted to say good luck. I hope you win,” your smile brings a sense of normalcy, like the two of you haven’t spend the weekend carefully avoiding each other. The concern on Charles’ face melts into something softer.

“Thank you, ma chérie,” he opens his arms slightly, subtly inviting you to hug him. You lean in, wrapping your arms around him. He notes how perfectly you fit in his arms. Charles resists the urge to happily sigh, relieved that the standoff is over.

It’s just what he needs to win the race, but before he can invite you to the after party, you are gone. Back to Greece with your lover, the Prince who stole you away before Charles had the nerve to say something.

Charles doesn’t see you again until just before Monza. He knocks on your and Arthur’s apartment door, delivering some frozen meals from Pasquale for Arthur. You open the door, hair slightly disheveled, messy mascara, tanned skin from the Greek sun, and a pullover that barely covers your shorts. You’ve never looked so perfect.

Charles opens his mouth to speak, but the tears start flowing. He steps inside behind you, following you to the living room after making a quick detour to shove the food in your freezer. You haven’t been back for long based on the lack of food in the fridge and the lack of your decoration.

Charles sits beside you on the couch, conscious of his actions. Your cat, Leo, sits on the other side of you. He looks around the living room, a framed photo of you and Arthur on a podium hanging beside other individual pictures or pictures of the two of you. Some of your trophies are mixed with Arthur’s, showcasing your achievements.

“Cherie, what happened?” Charles gentle voice cuts through the silence.

“He left. He’s going back to America,” you hold back sobs, the more you speak it, the more real it becomes. You had numbly backed your bags and flew back to Monaco, ignoring the apologies from the man who broke your heart. “I should’ve known he’d drop me as soon as the summer ended,” you tilt your head back in an effort to stop your tears. You never want to cry over a man again.

“I’m so sorry,” Charles whispers, unsure of what to say. You feel anger bubbling up, slowly replacing your sadness.

“God, I paused my whole life for him. I should be starting a job right now, learning how to adult. Instead I wasted my whole summer on white sand beaches and false promises,” your words are venomous, rather than sorrowful. It scares Charles a little bit, he’s seen you angry before, but not like this. Your eyes meet his, betraying your words. He sees the deep hurt and sorrow that they hold and wants nothing more to heal it.

“How long have you been home?” Charles asks, not noticing you subconsciously shifting closer.

“A few days,” your tone shifts, as you take a shaky breath in an attempt to level yourself.

“Y/n, I’m home, dinner is in the kitchen if you want anything,” Arthur calls out as he enters the apartment. He stops abruptly when he notices you on the couch. “You’re alive, and Charles is here.”

“I am here, Maman sent me with meals for you,” Charles says, taking the attention off of you.

“Are you okay? I haven’t seen you leave your room since you got home?” Arthur stares at you, analyzing any move you make.

“I’m okay,” your voice is hoarser than you intended, a small crack cuts through your words.

“I gotta shower, but we are talking later,” Arthur nods, disappearing into his room.

“You haven’t left your room?” Charles turns back to you.

“I think you know that answer,” you bring your knees to your chest, hugging them tightly.

“If I offered to help, would you take it?” Charles’ mouth is moving faster than his brain as he thinks of ways to help you.

“Maybe,”

“I need some help with the data. There’s a chance for the team to win the constructors championship and for me to take second in the drivers is everything works out right,” Charles trails off a little, gauging your reaction.

“I don’t want a job because you feel sorry for me,” your voice is firm causing Charles to panic a little.

“It isn’t, I promise. Why don’t you come to Monza and do a test run? See if you like it and if you do I will hire you,” Charles offers, watching the wheels turn in your brain. “I know you feel like you wasted your summer, so I’ll give you a good bonus if I win one race,” his words seal the deal for you. It goes against everything you have said before regarding jobs, but you can’t lie and say that the job won’t be beneficial.

“One test run, then I will give you my answer,” you confirm, watching Charles light up a little.

“Great, I’ll talk to Ferrari and work everything out. We leave for Monza tomorrow.”

Charles picks you and Arthur up early the next morning, bringing with him a Ferrari team polo and folder.

“All the essential data for you to get familiar with, according to the team at least. We will get your Paddock Pass in Monza,” Charles explains. You get to work in the car, looking over the data and using your computer to analyze it further.

“This is Emilia, she will be showing you around and telling you about the data team while I do media,” Charles hands you off to the girl who isn’t much older than you.

“You are a very strong racer,” she says at the end of your tour and training, catching you off guard. “Of course I looked you up when Charles insisted that he has his own data analyst, Ferrari kept tabs on you,” her comment is enough to make you stop.

“They did?”

“Yes, your data is impressive. I can show you the file,” she offers. All it takes is a head nod and you are being shown a file you never thought existed. You read the comments, doing your best to keep a neutral face in the dim room. Fast driver, high ceiling, not enough sponsors. The three phrases that sustained and killed your career accompany the numbers. It almost hurts knowing that teams did see your potential, but didn’t choose you because of money.

“Wow,” you whisper, scanning the page over and over again. You had looked at your racing data for various school projects, but it is different with the team commentary.

“Time for a track walk,” Charles pops his head in, breaking you out of your trance. You whisper a quick thanks before running out after Charles.

You stay busy all weekend, working out different strategies and areas for Charles to improve. It does pay off as you watch Charles bring home the win. Arthur insists you join at the parc ferme to celebrate. Charles hugs Arthur first before turning to you.

“I think this is a strong start to your career,” he quickly hugs you before moving down the line. You can see your new resume line now: assisted Formula One driver in winning during first weekend on team. So you do take the job, you would be crazy not to.

Ferrari hires you through the end of the season. Charles is thrilled. He likes the idea of being your white knight, mending your broken heart one race at a time. He watches you open up more and your relationship strengthens.

You do your best Elvis impression as you enter the paddock on race day with Charles. “Viva Las Vegas,” you sing with an exaggerated vibrato. Charles tries to contain his laughter as Max approaches.

“They had no need to hire Elvis impersonators this year, Ferrari has one on staff already,” he teases. You bonded over your cats, and cat Leo and dog Leo have had play dates with Jimmy and Sassy.

“Shut up,” you laugh. This is the version of you the Charles has been waiting to see again. “Oh shit,” your demeanor changes as you try to hide behind Max and Charles. Charles follows your line of sight to the man talking to someone across the paddock. Max looks confused, but notes how Charles wraps an arm protectively around you.

“I can get someone to kick him out,”

“That’s a bit extreme,”

“I have no idea who you are talking about, but I’ll do it,” Max offers, earning a slight smile from you before it deepens to a frown again.

“Getting broken up with is hardly a reason to kick him out unless he is actually bothering me,” you shrink slightly into Charles, who quickens his pace a little.

“That’s Leo’s dad? Let me at him,” Max is jumping at the chance to punch someone, a lot of pent up energy from conflicts this season. Max may be a sweetheart most of the time when he isn’t racing, but he was raised by Jos.

“Can we just go to hospitality? There’s nothing that an espresso and showing security his picture can’t fix,” you suggest. Max pouts, knowing you are right. Charles gives Max a look, one that tells Max to shut up before he hurts the situation.

“Well, I gotta go. Future World Champion stuff,” Max says, walking away. He does end up confronting Achileas, but he doesn’t say anything out it, and Achileas is too scared to reveal what was said.

“Are you okay?” Charles asks as you sip your espresso.

“Surprisingly, yes. I freaked out a bit at first, but he’s in my space. He’s the one who should be insecure,” you state, making Charles proud at how far you’ve come in two months.

“I’m proud of you. I know that whatever you do after the season you are going to excel,” the words are reassuring and you feel a warmth in your heart. The same kind that you used to feel for Arthur. It’s like you are seeing Charles in a different light than you had before. Charles silently watches you stare at him, stuck in your own head, before you look away at whatever is on the TV behind him.

“I couldn’t have done it without you, thank you for bringing me on,” you thank him. The mood is heavy, keeping both of you silent, not wanting to break the odd silence. “I’m going to grab some food, I’ll need it if we go to Max’s after party,” you abruptly say, standing up and leaving. Your phone and coffee remain on the table, so Charles doesn’t bother getting up. You return with two plates, setting one down in front of him. “I got your meal, you need to eat now so you have energy for the race. The window is closing,” you motion to the food with your fork.

“Thanks. You’ve been a great support too, by the way. I don’t think I would’ve done as well without you,” Charles smiles over his glass of water.

After the meal you disappear to find Emilia and work on data. You don’t see each other until your quick meeting on your findings and final race suggestions.

“Have you thought about joining the team full time?” Emilia asks as the race starts. There is a flicker of hope in your chest. Maybe Charles was right, the job can further your career. “There’s an opening working with the driver academy team. I’ll put in a recommendation for you if you want it,” she explains.

“Yeah, I’d love that,” you are a bit speechless, excited about the opportunity.

“Great, I’ll send you the application information,” she says before turning back to her work. You refocus on the live data, making notes of where Charles can improve to send to his race engineer.

Charles barely misses the podium so you go back to the team hotel with Emilia, waiting on the text from Charles saying that he’s leaving for the club. Max already sent you the invite, but you don’t want to show up alone. You do end up showing up alone though, having made it to the club before Charles did. You beeline to the bar, needing to take a shot before you even touch the dance floor.

“A shot without me? Come on we are doing another round,” Max approaches you, scaring you a bit as you set down the empty shot glass. Two shots are quickly placed in front of you.

“To the four time champion of the world,” you toast.

“To being cat parents,” he toasts back before you quickly down the shot.

“It’s rude to exclude friends from the round,” Charles cuts in. His slightly unbuttoned top shows a daring amount of skin and for once his pants have a normal fit. You head spins and you aren’t sure if it’s from the alcohol or Charles. You quickly look away and back at the bartender who was beaconed by Max.

“Three more,” you yell over the music.

“I don’t have a toast for this,” Max says as he picks the shot up, both of you looking to Charles.

“If the ocean was beer and I was a duck, I’d swim to the bottom and drink my way up. But the ocean isn’t beer and I’m not a duck, so let’s take these shots and get fucked up,” Charles says proudly. You take the shot before giggling at the silliness of the toast.

“Where did you learn that?” you ask, feeling the alcohol punch you.

“Don’t worry about it,” Charles smiles and you head spins again. You nod and wander to the dance floor, needing to separate yourself from him for a moment.

“Is she okay?” Max asks, watching you get lost in deep thought.

“I’m not sure. I think she’s finally had a chance to heal from the summer,” Charles pauses, unsure of how much to say. “She’s had a crush on Arthur for years, then he started dating his girlfriend, and she met her ex soon after. She’s finally returned to a healed state and now something is off again,” Charles tells Max a bit of what he’s observed from you. Max looks at how Charles is watching you, a mix of concern and admiration.

“She deserves to let loose,” Max says before going to meet other guests. Charles orders two more drinks, taking one to you.

“For me?” you gasp, eagerly taking a cup from his hands.

“Of course,” Charles notices how your navy dress clings to your body, dangerously revealing.

“Let’s dance,” your words slur as you grab onto Charles’ hand.

“I don’t know if that’s the best idea,” Charles starts, feeling like he should draw a boundary before things get messy.

“Please, Charlie,” you pout, it’s enough for Charles to give in. Your dancing remains relatively PG, that is until Carlos delivers two more drinks. Turns out that what Charles assumed was you texting Arthur, was you asking Carlos to be your delivery man. Halfway through your drink, you body drifts closer to Charles. There is a look in your eyes, one that used to be reserved for Arthur, one that was never given to Achileas.

“Y/n,” he says softly, trying to see if this is really what you want to be doing. If you told the Charles from a year ago that this was happening, he wouldn’t believe you. You brush against him, body swaying to the beat. Charles wraps an arm around you, done fighting it.

Lost in an alcohol haze, time seems nonexistent as the lights flash around you. Your drinks are long finished, taken away by a bouncer a few songs ago. There’s something natural about it, but it makes you feel guilty. You always assumed you and Arthur were meant to be, you never even thought of Charles in anyway but Arthur’s older brother. When did it change?

You look up to find Charles looking back at you. Your lips are slightly parted as your mind scrambles to find the words, the music spinning you further. Charles takes a risk, pulling you slightly closer. Your head tilts up slightly and he takes the opportunity to lean down and kiss you. Your body seems to freeze and melt at the same time, giving in to what’s happening. It’s everything Charles has waited for and more. The years of waiting were worth every moment.

“Charles,” your voice sounds like a whisper as your lips part, a desperation in his name.

“Just say no and I won’t kiss you again,” his voice is low in your ear, but you can’t find it in you to say no. Your hands travel up to his neck, pulling him back to you. Something clicks, everything in the past few months has worked towards this moment. He was there for you at your lowest, and Charles helped you be yourself again.

“I’m going to get us another round,” Charles says against your lips, leaving you in a daze.

“Y/n,” a voice says from behind you, catching your attention.

“Back already, Cha- what are you doing here?” your mood is immediately soured.

“Celebrating, just like you. I was invited,” the greek man hasn’t changed since he made you leave.

“Were you? How do you know Max?” you are skeptical, rightfully so. His only connection to Formula One was you.

“My friend works with the team. I thought I wasn’t supposed to worry about him,” Achileas nods his head back to the bar, causing your cheeks to flush at the thought of the older Monegasque.

“I thought you actually liked me. It seems we were both wrong,” you shake your head slightly, clearing Charles from your mind. Any drunkenness feels like it’s been washed away with a sharp splash of cold water.

“Come on, don’t be like that. You know you miss me,” he steps closer, trapping you in the crowd of strangers. Your eyes dart around the dance floor, looking for Carlos or Max, anyone who you know really.

“I don’t. You never even asked about our cat. Why would you care about me?” your eyes narrow, trying to mask your nerves with a false bravado.

“I know you and your body so well. Come back with me to my hotel and let me remind you,” he steps closer, so close you can feel the warmth of his breath. You freeze, not wanting to cause a scene but needing to escape.

“That fucker, I told him to stay away from her,” Max growls, noticing before Charles does since he is chatting with the bartender.

“Who?”

“Y/n’s ex, that greek guy,” Max makes a move to confront him, but Charles is already pushing towards you. Max hands back, waiting for the drinks. Who would he be to let alcohol go to waster if Charles has it handled.

“Back away from her before I make you,” Charles inserts himself between the two of you, shielding you behind him.

“What is your problem? You just had to get with her as soon as we took a break?” Achileas’ words only make you and Charles more mad.

“I respected your relationship the whole time, and when you broke her heart I helped her fix it. You have no right to be here and to make Y/n uncomfortable,” Charles says, knowing that you are one comment away from snapping.

“So you jumped on the opportunity to get with her? Just so you know, she really likes it when you-“

“I am an adult and can make my own choices. Charles has been a good friend for years and showed me his true colors since I returned to Monaco. You showed me your true colors when you dropped me like I was nothing and now you think you can waltz back in,” you step around Charles, who gently pulls you back into his chest before you get physical. Max approaches, accompanied by a bouncer.

“I warned you to stay away. It’s been fun watching you absolutely fail, but I think it’s time you leave. I don’t even know you,” Max lets the bouncer grab Achileas, the three of you watch as he is thrown out onto the street. “Good riddance,” Max huffs, handing you the second drink. It’s a miracle that no one else around you was paying attention.

“Thank you,” you look at max who looks both concerned and angry.

“What an asshole,” Charles shakes his head, free arm lightly holding you against him.

“I thought princes were supposed to be white knights,” Max says amused at his own thought.

“He’s not a real prince anyway,” your laugh is bitter, annoyed that you wasted your time on a pretty smile who wanted free devotion without returning it.

“I am though,” Charles smiles proudly.

“Sure you are. Prince of Monaco and King of Monza,” Max does his best interpretation of F1 commentary and their nicknames for the Monegasque. You feel the exhaustion of the night and its excitement hit you like a ton of bricks.

“I think I’m going to head out, the Ferrari flight leaves early tomorrow and I don’t think I’m in much of a celebration mood anymore. Congrats again, Max,” you step out of Charles’ embrace to give a quick hug to the Dutchman.

“I’ll go with you, just in case he’s waiting,” Charles says quickly, knowing he will just be worried if he lets you go alone. Arthur would kill him too. Arthur. That’s a discussion the two of you need to have.

“Thank you for being here. There is a seat on my jet for you if you oversleep or don’t sleep at all,” Max winks, leaving you and Charles.

“Want to order room service? I think we have some things to talk about,” Charles asks, guiding you towards his hotel.

“I could eat,” you nod.

As soon as you sit on his bed, another wave of exhaustion hits you. Charles digs through his suitcase, searching for something.

“Here, I doubt you want to stay in that dress,” Charles tries not to think about taking the dress off of you as he hands you a shirt and basketball shorts.

“Thanks,” you disappear into the bathroom to change and remove the bit of makeup you had time to do.

“What do you want to order?”

“We need to walk about what this is,” you answer, food pushed to the back of your mind as you sit on the bed. Charles sets the menu down, leaning against the headboard on top of the crisp white sheets. The city is visible outside the windows, but the curtains are drawn to block out the lights.

“I don’t want to force you into anything. I’ve liked you for a long time and that won’t change,” Charles states plainly, laying it out there.

“I want to take it slow. The last time I jumped into something it didn’t end well. As evidenced by tonight,” you pause, mulling over your next words. “What do we tell Arthur?” you frown, thinking of your best friend as Charles pulls you close.

“The truth. Something sparked tonight and we are taking it slow. If we hide it he may never forgive us.”

“You know, I always thought I would end up with Arthur,” you chuckle.

“Everyone did. I am glad that has changed now, I hated the thought of you two together and the way you used to look at him. I always wanted you to look at me that way, and you did tonight,” Charles says, his head dipping lower as he speaks, wanting to capture your lips in a kiss.

When he pulls away to turn off the bedside lamp, you get cozy in bed, quickly falling asleep. Charles doesn’t dare disturb you, instead he plugs your phone into a spare charger and texts Emilia to coordinate picking up your luggage in the morning before going to sleep as well.

You wake up to the early morning sun streaming through the window, panic coursing through you as you realize it isn’t your hotel room. You barely register that Charles is beside you as you look around for your phone. You do a double take once it registers in your mind, bits and pieces of the night before coming back to you.

“Morning,” Charles groans slightly, reaching out to pull you in for a cuddle.

“I missed the flight, how am I going to get my things,” you panic, not understanding how Charles is being so calm about it.

“I picked it up this morning, you are flying with Max and I to Qatar,” Charles murmurs sleepily into your shoulder, messy brown hair falling onto your skin.

“I’m so confused,” you settle a bit, letting yourself relax into the bed and Charles’ arms again. “Oh my god, we didn’t?”

“No, you were asleep quickly and I wouldn’t do that when drunk,” Charles says softly, just wanting to go back to sleep. He pulls you closer, like he’s been waiting his whole life to wake up next to you, savoring the moment.

“Thanks,” you whisper, exhaustion hitting you again.

Charles doesn’t reply, gently nuzzling against your neck as his breathing evens out. You take it as a sign and close your eyes.

You wake up a couple hours later to Charles’ alarm going off. You turn your body to face him, blinking the sleep from your eyes.

“Good morning,” you whisper, voice slightly raspy. Charles hums, wrapping an arm around you after turning off the alarm.

“Did you sleep well?” Charles asks eventually.

“It’s much better than the hotel rooms I normally stay in with the team,” you reply, not mentioning the added bonus of sleeping next to him.

“I could get used to sleeping beside you, waking up to this every morning,” the room falls into a comfortable silence, just the sound of your breathing filling the space before you decide to address the elephant in the room.

“When are we telling Arthur?” you ask, massing to mentally prepare yourself.

“He will probably call me in an hour. We should tell him then, but we should also talk about last night,” Charles sits up a little.

“I don’t regret any of it. I feel like I stumbled into the opportunity, but it feels right,” you reply quickly, not wanting to leave room for any doubts.

“I’m glad, because I’ve liked you for a long time,” your heart flutters at his smile. You feel like a school girl who will blush at the slightest glance your way.

“I, um, need to shower,” you quickly disappear to the bathroom with your suitcase.

“Fuck,” Charles says under his breath, resting his head on the headboard. There’s no way he fucked it up already. With the water running softly in the background, he orders breakfast to be delivered.

You step out of the bathroom twenty minutes later wearing an oversized shirt you stole from Charles a couple races ago and shorts. Charles has his back you to you, messing with a tray.

“Cherie, breakfast is here,” Charles gently calls out, not realizing you are behind him.

“What did you get?” you peek around him, looking at the modest spread. Some breakfast pastries and two mugs of coffee are resting on the desk. Charles jumps slightly, not expecting you so quickly.

“Your hair is soaked,” Charles laughs as the ends tickles his neck, dampening the collar of his cotton shirt.

“I wonder why,” you tease, tentatively pressing a kiss to his cheek as you reach around him, taking a cup of coffee. Charles turns toward you, pulling you closer for a proper kiss.

Your phone buzzes on the table beside the bed, making you pull away. You carefully rush to grab it, coffee splashing on to your hand a bit despite your efforts.

“It’s Arthur,” you turn to Charles, setting down the coffee before pulling your phone off the charger. Sitting on the plush white bed, you swipe, accepting the video call.

“Hey, shouldn’t you be at the airport,” Arthur asks, his phone shaking as he finds a spot to sit down.

“I am flying Air Max,” you smile, leaning against the headboard. You catch Charles trying to silently stand up from the table and walk towards the bathroom so you could have privacy.

“Fuck,” Charles whisper-yells, accidentally kicking the table leg.

“Is that Charles?” Charles’ eyes widen as he stares at your phone.

“Yeah, I crashed here after Max’s party. Some stuff went down and I didn’t want to be alone,” you want to trauma dump, but now isn’t the right time. Charles sits beside you out of the frame, gently rubbing circles into your leg.

“What happened?” You sneak a look at Charles, silently asking for confirmation that he was ok with you telling Arthur everything.

“I was getting closer with Charles, who says hello by the way,” Charles pinches your thigh, making you try not to smack his hand away. “We, um, kissed, then out of no where Achileas showed up. I had it handled but Max and Charles helped put him in his place,” You power through the mental blocks that tell you that Arthur doesn’t need to know everything. He will find out eventually, why lie now?

“I saw a video and thought it was you two, thank you for being honest,” Arther swallows any bit of hurt. He has a girlfriend, why is he borderline jealous of his brother. Years ago you told a friend that if you couldn’t have Arthur, you wouldn’t date a Leclerc at all. Arthur doesn’t know what made it change or why he found comfort in it.

“You aren’t mad?” Charles appears in the camera frame, looking happier and more relaxed than normal.

“No, of course not. If you guys are happy, then I am too,” Arthur isn’t looking at the screen anymore. “I always knew you’d be a Leclerc,” Arthur watches your smile widen, your head tilted toward Charles almost resting on his shoulder.

“We are taking things slow, so don’t get ahead of yourself,” your light laugh is music to both boys ears. Arthur’s stomach twists as he plasters a fake smile.

“Well, I need to go get groceries. I’ll talk to both of you after your flight. Bye,” Arthur quickly hangs up. You set your phone down on the bed, breathing a sigh of relief at how well the call went.

“So can I officially call you mine?” Charles asks, needing to put a label on it even if you are taking it slow in other areas of the relationship.

“I usually make a guy take me on a date first, but I think I’ll make an exception,”

“Good,”

“Even if it’s for a guy who named his dog after my cat.”

[coco-loco-nut]

Poster Child

Pairing: Charles x Reader

Summary: you love your brother, but not when you are with another guy

masterlist requests open

——————————

“Wanna get out of here?” the guy you’ve dedicated your night to flirting with finally asks. You finish your drink with a smirk.

“I thought you’d never ask,” you grab your bag off the back of your chair, allowing the blond man to take your free hand and lead you out of the bar. Your giggles fill the air of the busy Monaco streets as he whispers in your ear, compliments and dirty thoughts to excite you for the night ahead.

The taxi arrives quickly. You sit in the back, bodies pressed against each other. He presses soft kisses to your neck, cheek, and lips as his hands start to wander. The ride is soon over as you arrive at his apartment building.

“Do you have roommates?” you ask curiously as you enter the building.

“No, I have a studio. It’s a really nice place,” you nod as he speaks, observing the building and trying not to judge at its run down state. The door creaks as he pushes it open.

The apartment is a bit messy, trash bin close to full with takeout containers. You sit down on the couch, ignoring the slight mess as you are laid back. The couch is slightly lumpy, only uncomfortable if you stay for too long.

When he starts tugging at your top, you pull away, eyes darkened with desire.

“Should we take this to the bedroom?” he asks, voice husky. He picks you up, allowing your legs to wrap around him as he carries you into his bedroom. You are gently laid onto your back on the bed. His kisses move from your mouth to your neck and you open your eyes a little bit to watch and look around.

It’s fairly standard for single men, posters of footballers, memorabilia, and a poster of Charles Leclerc. Your eyes widen, mood immediately soured as you close your eyes again.

Ignore it, it’s not a big deal, he clearly doesn’t know who you are. You try to refocus, get back in the mood. Your hookup starts to travel lower and your eyes fly wide open again.

“I can’t do it, I’m so sorry,” you quickly sit up, rushing out to the couch to grab your phone and purse. You lean against the wall in the hallway, staring at your phone. Ubers are increasingly expensive, and there are none available at the moment. Swiping out of the app, your finger hovers over the button you really don’t want to press.

The door knob beside you wiggles and you dart down the poorly lit hallway, racing down the stairs to leave the building. You press the button and after two rings your savior picks up.

“Charles, can you pick me up?” you sound like you are about to either laugh or cry and you feel like it too, standing on the streets of Monaco.

“Are you okay?” his voice is groggy, you can picture him checking the time, quietly telling Alexandra to go back yo sleep before taking the call. “Never mind, I’ll be there in five minutes,”

“But you are across the city,” you reply, confused as you hear the door click behind Charles.

“I’m a professional race car driver, I could be there in two if I needed to,” Charles says before hanging up. You sit on the concrete, back against the wall of the building.

Just as he said, you hear the roar of the Ferrari as it approaches right on time.

“Did he have a small dick?” Charles asks as soon as you sit down. You can’t help but to laugh, tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

“Worse,” you tell him, feeling the car pull away.

“Visible STD?”

“A poster of you,” you tell him. Charles almost slams on the breaks.

“Oh, I thought you loved me? Your favorite older brother,” he jokes.

“I don’t want poster you watching me. It felt weird,” you sink into the seat.

“He should love me, that’s a green flag,” Charles continues his teasing, not really knowing how to respond properly.

Charles wraps an arm around your shoulders, leading you to his guest room.

“No poster here, I promise. Get some sleep,” Charles gives you a quick squeeze before disappearing into his own room.

You wake up to the smell of coffee and a duffle bag beside the bed. Curiously you open it up, finding a change of clothes and some toiletries. You take it into the bathroom, meeting to change and freshen up before leaving the guest room.

“Look who finally woke up,” you perk up at Lorenzo’s voice.

“Charles said you might need a sibling day, something about a traumatic night?” Arthur’s eyes sparkle. They know.

“How could I have known,” you groan, flopping onto the couch beside Lorenzo. At least he won’t tease you, he always protects you from Charles and Arthur.

“Maybe you should start background checking guys,” Lorenzo jokingly suggests.

“Alright, that’s enough. You aren’t helping,” Charles walks in, bringing you a cup of coffee. “Thank you for bringing clothes,” Charles tells Arthur who stares longingly at the coffee.

“Go get your own,” you tell Arthur, sipping the smooth roast.

“Your twin telepathy is unreal,” Lorenzo shakes his head as Arthur walks away to get coffee.

“Alright, comfort movie first then retail therapy,” Charles sits beside you, sandwiching you between him and Enzo.

“Maybe I should make bad choices more often,”

[coco-loco-nut]

i second the tags… nolan, pato, and osc are the only reasons i don’t burn my mclaren gear

the reason i find myself sometimes rooting for that cursed evil orange team

[coco-loco-nut]

I'm not just a bitch, I'm a bitch with a backstory

[coco-loco-nut]

[coco-loco-nut]

[coco-loco-nut]

current state of f1:

charles leclerc subplot:

[coco-loco-nut]

We did it guys

[coco-loco-nut]

bestie did her thing 🙏😍

Flash Forward - M. Verstappen (part three)

summary: The world of F1 is never easy. Throw in your childhood enemy, a new coworker you can't quite get a read on and a new situationship? You're in for a wild season.

pairing: Max Verstappen x fem!reader (Ferrari photographer, graffiti artist, childhood enemies), Charles Leclerc x platonic fem!reader, Logan Sargeant x situationship fem!reader

warnings: swearing, drinking, allusions to sex (no smut), brief mentions of Max's childhood, angst, use of y/n

a/n: i cannot believe i'm finally done with this series. taking max and y/n through three F1 seasons was a whirlwind but i'm so happy the entire story is yours. knowing me, i may do small little blurbs with them in the future, as i don't think i'll be able to part with them for very long. also this was written before Logan's ELMS announcement.

word count: 28.1k

masterlist

part one // part two

Monte Carlo, Monaco 

You woke up to the soft weight of blankets wrapped around you, the familiar warmth of Logan’s body pressed against yours. The subtle rise and fall of his chest against your back was grounding, comforting even. His arm was lazily draped across your waist, fingers just grazing the edge of your ribs under the shirt you had stolen from him. 

Both of you had been taking it slow. Real slow. Your connection caught in the limbo between friends and something more - something you weren’t ready to name, even if the moments almost felt like it. The dinners that went on a little longer than they should have, Logan insisting on covering the bill, the excuse to stay over just one more night, because it was better than going home alone. The stolen kisses, the way his lips pressed against yours unexpectedly, tentatively, like he was testing the waters. It was all there - the signs, the quiet gestures, the closeness that seemed to build every time you were together. 

But you hadn’t defined it, not really, not in the way it felt like it needed to be. No titles. No labels. Just two people slowly getting to know each other on a more intimate level, waiting for the other to make the first move. 

And that was fine by you. In fact, you preferred it. 

While your artwork was a different story, you had never been one to rush into romance. The last two years with Max had been an exception. Max had been a whirlwind. A rush of emotions that left you dizzy, breathless, and swept up in decisions that came too fast. You hadn’t been ready for all of that, but you didn’t know any better at the time. 

But Logan? There was no urgency, no rush. Everything happened exactly as it should - slow, stress free, like a puzzle you pieced together, one small moment at a time. It felt easy. It felt right. 

After you placed a small peck on his skin, you wriggled out of Logan’s grasp. His arm shifted a little, but he didn’t wake. 

You made your way to the kitchen to make breakfast. Logan was obsessed with Carlos’ pancake recipe, and it had quickly become a Sunday morning tradition between you two. Whenever he stayed over, it was pancakes, coffee, and conversations about anything and everything. So, you grabbed the flour, the eggs, the vanilla, and of course, the honey. 

The scent of pancakes always made you feel cozy, even before the first bite. You also adored mornings like this, quiet and slow, where the world outside was just waking up, and inside, there was only the soft hum of your Spotify playlist and the sizzle of batter on the hot griddle. 

During the season, it was rare for you to enjoy these moments. It was always running to the track, trying to remember where in the world you even were. The chaos of the season was fun, the challenge of meeting deadlines exciting, but it was welcoming to have this kind of peace.

As the pancakes began to cook, you set the table, making sure to leave a spot for Logan. You heard him stir in the other room, the soft shuffle of footsteps on the hardwood mixed with the music that was playing. You didn’t have to rush him. He would be out there when he was ready, just like he always was every Sunday. 

You flipped the pancakes, the golden edges crisping up perfectly, and when you turned around, you saw Logan standing in the doorway. His hair was messy, his eyes still full of sleep, and his bare chest a welcoming sight. For a moment, he just watched you, taking in the sight of you wearing his Williams Racing shirt, the fabric loose on your frame. A lazy, content smile crept across his face that made your chest tighten in a way you couldn’t quite explain. 

“Morning” he said, his voice thick with sleep but warm, as if nothing in the world was more important than the moment in front of him. 

“Morning” you replied, glancing over at him before turning back to the griddle. 

The sound of his bare feet shuffling on the hardwood filled the room again as Logan made his way over to you. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you in from behind. You could feel the heat of his body as he lazily tucked his head into the crook of your neck, watching you finish cooking breakfast. 

“You look good in my shirt” he murmured, voice muffled against your skin, but there was no mistaking the smile in his tone

You chuckled softly, planting a soft kiss on his head “I think I wear it better than you do” you teased 

“Maybe” he said, but his smile only grew “but I’m gonna steal it back after breakfast”

“Sure you are” you rolled your eyes, a smile still plastered on your lips 

Your focus turned back to the pancakes, feeling his arms tighten around just a little around you as he nuzzled against your neck. It felt effortless. Comfortable. For the first time in a while, it felt like you were exactly where you were supposed to be. 

======

Across the hall, the atmosphere was completely different. There was no music playing, no playful banter, just quiet that felt heavier than it should’ve. It had been like that for a while now - tension that settled in, unspoken and unresolved, no matter how hard Max tried. Ever since his vacation in Barcelona, your face had been at the forefront of his mind. 

He had told himself it was just a passing thing, that he was back home and everything would go back to normal. But when he’d returned, it was impossible to ignore the shift. The connection he had with Isabella, while once comfortable and familiar, now seemed foreign. It felt like something was missing. And in the quiet of his apartment, in those rare moments when he allowed himself to stop and think, the only thing that kept creeping into his thoughts was you. 

He couldn’t deny it anymore. After Barcelona, he had spent far too many nights scrolling through your social media accounts - stalking, in the most harmless way possible, or at least that’s what he told himself. It started with your personal account. It wasn’t like he was trying to find something to make himself feel better about the distance that had grown between him and Isabella, but somehow, you’d become a constant in his thoughts. 

Each photo, each post, every little detail felt like a breadcrumb trail he couldn’t resist following. There were shots of you, your eyes half closed in the sunlight, a soft smile on your lips, standing on the edge of the world in England. Then there was Logan, appearing more and more in your stories and posts, at first casually, but then with a certain ease, like you beginning to slip into something… more. There were no signs of it being explicitly named, not in the way that would make everything real, but there was no mistaking the quiet chemistry that danced through your posts, through the subtle way your fingers brushed his in a candid shot, or how you started tagging each other in pictures that felt intimate, even if you didn’t mean them to be. 

But then there was your photography page. 

It was no secret that Max had admired your work - he sang praises about it to whoever would listen, even if you weren’t around. Ferrari still dominated the feed, all those breathtaking shots from last season, the smooth curves of the cars, and the sleek lines of the racetracks. But littered throughout the bright red, were sprinkles of dark blue. Hints of his own car were still found in the whirlwind of red. 

But there was another shade of blue creeping into your feed. It was lighter, and gave a much more welcoming feeling. That shade of blue wasn’t going to destroy anything and everything in its path. The shade of blue that only belonged to a Williams car. 

Mixed into the racing photos were photos of your travels, places you visited between races and seasons. These were more intimate. A series of pictures that felt real. Not the polished shots he was used to seeing of events and on the track. These felt raw, unfiltered. And in those images, hints of Logan could be seen - an arm, or the back of his head. His shadow in your life became undeniable. 

Max always found himself staring at those photos longer than he should. Trying to piece together a story he wasn’t a part of. A narrative he didn’t want to be a part of, but couldn’t help but feel drawn to. He wasn’t a fool. He could see what was happening, even if you hadn’t fully realized it yet. You had slipped away, or maybe you were just beginning to let go of the illusion that you and Logan were just friends. Max didn’t know how to feel about it.

He should’ve been happy for you, right? You were finding someone. You were finding something. But there was a bitter edge to his thoughts. Because no matter how many times he tried to bury the idea, the feeling grew stronger. What did this mean for him and Isabella? What did this mean for his own feelings, things he hadn’t even processed yet?

Max pulled up your personal profile again, the small colorful circle around your profile photo showed that you had posted a new story. Against his better judgment, he tapped on it. A photo of your kitchen table popped up, two plates filled with pancakes - Carlos’ recipe most likely, he knew how much you raved about it. Across from you was a hand. A man’s hand. Logan’s hand. Logan was across the hall. 

Max’s chest tightened, his breath came up in short, sharp bursts as he stared at the image on his phone. The photo of you and Logan. It was innocent, nothing overly affectionate - just pancakes, a lazy Sunday morning. But that hand. The way it rested on the table, the fingers just shy of brushing against your own, spoke volumes.

He had spent weeks trying to push down the feeling that something wasn’t right with him and Isabella. He had told himself it was just the pressures of the season, just a phase. But now, it felt like everything was crashing down on him at once. The quiet distance between him and Isabella had only grown, and you had become a constant thought, even though he knew it wasn’t right. 

Jeddah, Saudi Arabia 

The paddock always felt like a circus - an ever changing, high stakes performance where the pressure was as loud as the noise. Even the most experienced drivers occasionally crumpled under the pressure. Throw in the nineteen year old reserve driver? It’s gonna be interesting. 

“So Carlos needs to get his appendix removed?” you asked as Annalese entered the hospitality suite.

Annalese sighed, “Apparently” she replied, slipping into the chair opposite of you. “It’s not ideal, but the surgeon apparently said he’ll be fine after a few weeks. But you know what that means…” 

“Ollie?” you asked 

“Ollie.” she answered, “which also means…” 

“Finding him and doing quick media content” you finished her sentence, a smirk playing on your lips. 

As if you two were being controlled, you stood up in sync, already knowing what you had to do. Your attention was on the tablet in your hands, swiping through the team schedule, looking for any hint as to where Ollie could be. 

“According to this, he should be in the garage going over data.” you said, eyebrows furrowing in concentration as you looked at the spreadsheet. 

“So we should be able to snatch him for a moment to make the announcement video.” Annalese replied 

“That, or his team is going to chase us out of there, armed with wrenches and screwdrivers” 

You continued to scroll down the spreadsheet, curious as to what the day brought for the rest of the team. Your diverted focus however, meant that you didn’t notice the person standing in the middle of the walkway until you had collided with their chest. 

“I’m sorry -,” you began as you took a step back and looked up from your tablet, “Max?” 

Max’s eyes flickered with a mix of surprise and mild annoyance, but his expression softened when he realized who it was. The faintest of smirks tugged at his lips, and to no surprise, his usual air of confidence was there. 

“Didn’t see you there” you muttered, adjusting the tablet in your hands, a little flustered at the collision.

Max’s smirk deepened, and he took a small step back, glancing down at the tablet in your hands before meeting your eyes again. “Clearly” he said, his voice laced with amusement. “How’ve you been?” 

You blinked at the unexpected question, taken aback for a moment. Max wasn’t one to check in on people, especially outside of race-related matters. Especially if he blew up in your face mere months ago. You shrugged nonetheless, attempting to shake off the sudden feeling of vulnerability. 

“Busy” you replied, offering a half smile. “You know how it is, constant chaos.” 

Max nodded, fiddling with the can in his hand. “Right, of course.” he said before taking a breath. “How was your break?” 

You felt the question hang in the air, and for a brief moment, you hesitated. Max asking about how you were was odd in itself. Him asking about your break was even more strange, especially after everything that happened between you two. The memory of that argument, the tension from months ago, still lingered in the back of your mind. But then, it was Max. He had a way of keeping things casual, pretending like the cracks never formed in the first place. 

“Break?” You raised an eyebrow, hoping you sounded nonchalant. “It was… alright. Quiet. Logan and I did a bit of traveling.” 

Max’s expression softened at the mention of Logan’s name, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of something you couldn’t describe. He nodded, as if processing the information, but his smirk remained in place. “That sounds nice. Traveling is always good, even if it’s just to get away from it all.” 

You shrugged, trying to keep things light “Yeah, exactly. A little peace and quiet never hurt anyone.” 

There was a beat of silence, the sound of the paddock humming in the background, the usual chaos always just a heartbeat away. Max fiddled with his Red Bull can again, clearly thinking. The brief lull felt oddly comfortable, despite the tension that you both seemed to be dancing around. 

“So, how about you?” you asked, trying to shift the focus back to him. “Did you get a proper break?” 

Max’s lips twitched into something that could’ve been passed as a smile, though it was far from reaching his eyes. “You could say I had a break, though it wasn’t exactly restful.”

You wanted to ask what he meant, if something happened behind the scenes, but that would mean he was important. And Max Verstappen was not an important part of your life anymore.

And so, you didn’t. Instead, you offered a nod, letting the silence last just a little bit longer. 

“Hey!” Annalese called, cutting the silence between you “Love that you guys are chit chatting, but we have a driver to find” 

“Right” you said, any traces of awkwardness left slowly evaporated as you were brought back to reality. “We need to go find Ollie. But thanks for the chat, Max. It’s uh… been a while.” 

Max gave a brief, almost undetectable smile, his eyes softening for a moment. “Anytime” he replied, words quieter than usual. Then, without another word, he turned and walked off, his footsteps steady and sure as always. 

Just as you expected, you found Ollie in his garage. The number 55 was nowhere to be found, but instead replaced by 38. You were honestly amazed how quickly the team was able to swap everything out, as if Carlos was never even there. 

The stark change in the number alone reminded you that the Spaniard wouldn’t be with Ferrari come next season. Lewis had signed with the team, and while you were excited to see what he could add, you were going to miss Carlos. 

Ollie was to the side of the garage, staring intently at the wall of monitors, clearly deep in thought. His focus was unwavering as he looked at the data, the world around him easily faded away. 

You wanted to leave him be, let him get as adjusted as possible without media distractions. But the life he lived didn’t let that happen. 

So, you sighed as you walked up to the reserve driver. “Hey, Ollie” you said, hoping not to scare him “Got a minute?” 

Ollie turned his head to look at you. You were expecting him to be annoyed that you pulled him away from his data, but the Brit had the biggest smile on his face. 

“Yeah, of course, I’ve got a minute,” Ollie said, putting his headset down. “What’s up?”

Annalese hesitated, surprised by his easy going approach to the weekend. The switch from Carlos to him - however temporary - was a huge turn of events. 

“Need you for a quick video” Annalese said, motioning to the camera slung around your shoulder. “Just the usual - announcement for Carlos’, uh, situation.” 

You didn’t feel the need to elaborate, only offering a nod. He knew exactly what Annalese meant. 

The three of you made your way out to the pit lane for filming, as there were no cars on track. You walked Ollie through what to highlight in the video, offering him suggestions on what to say. 

“Ready?” you asked, holding your camera in the perfect angle. 

“Ready” he answered. You pressed record, motioning for him to start talking. “Hey guys, Ollie here, bit of an unexpected night to be standing here. Firstly my condolences to Carlos…”

You and Annalese exchanged glances, the two of you thinking the exact same thing. Carlos isn’t dead. But Ollie was so busy rambling about his day and how excited he was to be with Ferrari, that both of you kept your mouth shut until he was done. 

“That was good, but you know, Carlos is still alive, he’s just getting surgery” you couldn’t help but chuckle

Ollie froze for a moment, his eyes widening as he processed what you said. “Oh no.” His face flushed with embarrassment as he quickly glanced at Annalese who was holding back a laugh. “I-uh, I didn’t mean it like that. I swear, I didn’t-” 

You couldn’t help but laugh as Ollie scrambled to explain himself, his face now matching the color of his Ferrari shirt. polo. “It’s okay, we know you didn’t mean it like that” 

Annalese couldn’t hold it in as she let out a snort of laughter. “Carlos would definitely appreciate not being mourned while he’s still very much alive, recovering in a hospital bed.” 

“But it would be really fucking funny if we left that in the video.” you added, a smirk still dancing on your lips 

“Would you leave it in the video?” Ollie asked, curiosity lacing his words 

You shrugged “Honestly, probably. It was a solid one-take, you hit everything on the head, and the hiccup will surely add a bit of humor for the fans.” 

Ollie didn’t need any more convincing to agree to use the already filmed clip. As quickly as you pulled him away from his work, you sent him right back to it, hoping to get him prepped and ready for the weekend. 

======

Fortunately, Ollie did great for his first F1 race. He finished P7, getting six points for the team. Charles made the podium for the first time for the season, placing P3 behind Checo in P2, and to no one’s surprise, Max in P1. 

You waved to Ollie as you made your way to parc ferme, making a note to congratulate him when you had a moment. When you got to parc ferme, you found yourself a spot for photographing the top three. As you snapped photos, you chatted with some of the team, congratulating each other on the podium. One of the people you expected to be there though, was nowhere to be found. 

Your eyes scanned the crowd of Ferrari crew members once more. Surely you had just glossed over her in the sea of red. There were so many people, all wearing the same uniform. Nope. No sign. 

She wouldn’t miss his podium. Not in a million years. You knew she’d do anything and everything it took to be there. She did it all last season, even if Ferrari wasn’t on a step. But there you were, and she was noticeably absent. 

“Hey, have you seen Isabella?” you asked, walking up to one of the mechanics, trying to sound casual as you snapped a few more photos of Charles yapping with Max.

The mechanic looked at you with a slight hesitation, as if he was debating whether or not to tell you. “She’s with Ollie. Getting a headstart on the post race work with him.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, and you could feel a flicker of doubt in your chest. Getting a headstart on post-race work? Sure, that made sense for someone new on the team. But Isabella? That didn’t quite add up, especially if going to celebrate Max was an option to put it off. 

“Right” you said, trying to mask the intrigue in your voice. You turned your attention back to the three drivers, snapping one last picture as they disappeared into the cooldown room. 

You went through the podium routine, being sure to avoid getting doused in champagne. Once the celebrations subsided, you made your way back to the Ferrari garages. Isabella was seated on one of the stools, camera in hand, most likely looking at the photos she took. It was hard to tell whether she was deep in thought about the photos or just lost in her own head, but something about her demeanor didn’t seem entirely normal. 

“Hey,” you said, keeping your tone light as you approached her, “Good shots?” 

Isabella didn’t immediately look up. Instead, she absently adjusted the camera in her hands, before giving a soft, almost absent minded nod. “Yeah I think so,” she muttered, her voice quieter than usual. “Pretty standard, nothing too exciting.” 

You couldn’t help but feel a flicker of concern. Pretty standard? You would be the first to admit she was an incredibly talented photographer. Isabella saying her photos were pretty standard was unheard of. 

You took a slow breath and decided to press a little further, knowing her decently enough to read between the lines when something didn’t feel right. 

“Why weren’t you at the podium?” you asked, trying to sound casual but noticing how your voice came out slightly softer than you intended. “I thought you’d wanna see Max-.” 

At the mention of the Red Bull driver, Isabella’s posture stiffened for a fraction of a second. She quickly forced her expression back to neutrality, but you caught it. She met your gaze for the first time since you’d walked up to her, her lips curving into a small, almost dismissive smile. 

“I just wanted to make sure Ollie was set for the post-race media scrums. He’s still adjusting to everything, you know?” Her words felt rehearsed, like a practiced response, and though her voice sounded calm, there was a tension there - an underlying current that made your gut twist with suspicion. 

You nodded, but the unease in your chest only grew. It was definitely true that Ollie may need the extra help going through his first F1 weekend, But Isabella wasn’t the type to stay away from the celebrations for that. 

Before you could ask any more questions, Isabella stood up, her body language shifting in a way that made you feel like the conversation was over. “Anyway, I’ve got work to do.” she said quickly, her tone almost now businesslike, as if to close the door on any further discussion. “I’ll catch you later.” 

With that, she packed up her belongings, and made her way through the garage, leaving out of the back.

You stood there for a second, processing the interaction you just had. But before you knew it, chatter quickly filled the pit lane, as Red Bull was making their way to their garage. Leading the pack was Max. His gaze lingered on you for a heartbeat too long, his usual cool demeanor slightly shifting as if something had crossed his mind. 

Your mouth opened, as if you were to speak, but no sound came out. You didn’t know what to say to him. Congrats on the win! What’s wrong with your girlfriend? 

So, you quickly broke eye contact, not wanting to draw anymore attention to him. But his look was sharp, calculating, like he was reading you. It was unsettling, to say the least. 

Melbourne, Australia

One of your favorite races on the calendar was Melbourne. Ever since you started traveling down under, the city held a special place for you - part of it being the thrill of being so far away from everything you've ever known in Europe, but also because there was something electric about the energy there. Whether it was the bustling streets, the laid-back vibe, or the fact that the Australian Grand Prix was always a spectacle, Melbourne had a way of drawing you in every time. 

One you’d dropped off your bags and gotten settled, the first stop was always the same: Graffiti Alley. You could call it a bit of a tradition at this point, and even though you’d wandered through the maze of artwork countless times before, it was never the same. It was a living, breathing space, filled with history, culture, and the spontaneous creativity that you longed to return to from when you were a teenager. 

This time, you brought Logan. You were bouncing off the walls with excitement as you finally got to show him arguably your favorite street in the world. 

“You ready for this?” you asked, glancing over at Logan, your fingers intertwined with his. 

Logan, gave you a grin and shrugged, his curiosity piqued. “Let’s see if it lives up to the hype.” You could read him like a book, so you could tell he was trying to play it cool, acting as if he hadn’t spent the last fifteen minutes scrolling through his phone looking up pictures of the alley. 

A laugh left your mouth, feeling a wave of fondness for him as you turned the corner. Off the bat, you noticed some of the artwork had been painted over with new pieces. 

You couldn’t help but smile as you looked at Logan, still trying to play it cool, his phone now tucked away in his pocket as he took in the surroundings. You could tell he was impressed, his eyes darting from one striking piece of art to the next, the occasional flicker of recognition crossing his face as if trying to place the meaning behind the murals. 

“See?” you said, exchanging Logan’s hand for your camera. “I told you it would be worth it.” 

Logan’s grin widened as he looked around, eyes scanning the art. “Okay, okay. I get it now,” he said, shaking his head in mild disbelief. “This place is unreal. It’s like the walls are talking to you.” 

“Told you” you teased, as you brought the camera up to your face, snapping a few shots of the art around you. You were sure to get a few of Logan’s amazement.

Logan rolled his eyes as you took the photos of him, but his smile never waivered. “Fine, fine, maybe a bit.” he conceded.

The two of you navigated through the network of backstreets, snapping photos as you did so. Logan followed your lead, taking out his phone and channeling his inner photographer. You couldn’t help but laugh as he mimicked your poses, hoping to get the same angles you were. 

“You look ridiculous” you chuckled as you watched Logan squat in the middle of the alley. 

“Hey, I’m just copying you.” he said, throwing his hands up in defense. Once he finally got himself up, he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you in. “Have you ever thought of buying a few cans and graffiting a piece here?” 

Your weight shifted a tad, leaning more into him as you pondered the question. “I mean I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it” you said, looking around the walls that surrounded you. “But I don’t know” 

“Why not?” he asked, “I’ve seen your work, it’s definitely worthy of being up here.” 

You paused for a moment, looking at the vibrant artwork around you. The last time anyone had talked about you adding to it was with Max years ago. It was an idea that had taken up a lot of space in your head, but one that never came to fruition. 

“It’s a little intimidating, you know?” you said, glancing up at a mural of a heart restled in the branches of a tree. It was one of the few murals that had been there every single year you’ve visited. The colors faded in the sun, but no one had dared to touch it. “I also don’t want to cover up someone’s work.” 

Logan placed a kiss on your head, before speaking “If you do, just know I’ll be the first one wanting to see it.” 

======

You didn’t see much of Logan the rest of the weekend. Between his media duties, him getting his car taken away for Alex to use, and your camera getting hit by a cricket ball that Charles had smacked, you both had your hands full. You did, however, see a lot more of Max than you were expecting. 

It started on media day. Both him and Charles had been running around talking to different sponsors, doing promotional videos, and simply hanging around the paddock. Whenever you were on the move with Charles, it seemed Max was always walking past in the opposite direction. It wasn’t unusual for him to be involved in everything - everyone wanted to meet him after all - but this time, there was an undeniable shift in the air. 

It was subtle at first, but once you noticed it, you couldn’t unsee it. Max’s glances were no longer just passing, neutral acknowledgements - he was actively seeking them out. It wasn’t the typical “I’m just here to do my thing” look that you were used to from him. This was different. His eyes lingered for just a beat longer than usual, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips whenever they met yours. 

It was during the post-qualifying press conferences that it really hit you. You were sitting near the back of the media room, scanning through some of the shots you had taken earlier when you caught Max’s eyes across the room. He was in the middle of answering a question, but for some reason, his gaze flickered to yours again - longer this time. When your eyes met, there was something unspoken there. It wasn’t a stare, exactly, but more of a quiet acknowledgement that only the two of you seemed to understand. 

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t intrigued by the shift. His desire to hold your attention oddly coincided with Isabella’s shift in demeanor. Curiosity got the best of you as you opened Instagram, typing in her handle name into the search bar. As you thumbed through her profile, there were a few things you took note of. 

The first thing that stood out was the change in Isabella’s posts. There weren’t as many shared moments with Max, no sweet captions or photos of the two of them at events. In fact, it had been a few weeks since she had even mentioned him in her stories. 

You could already feel the pieces falling into place, as you noticed posts from the past few months had a new cover photo. Posts that had Max at the forefront of them now were replaced by landscapes or solo shots of Isabella. 

As you lurked, you found yourself staring at one of the last remaining traces of Max on her profile. It was a photo of one of the beaches in the French Riviera, with Max’s silhouette in the distance, his outline tagged with his username. 

So, you did what you thought any other person would do, and followed the tag to his profile. While it was common knowledge that someone else mostly ran his account, you couldn’t help but look. His posts were more frequent, more personal. There were the standard race weekend photos, but sprinkled in were photos of his day to day life, of Jimmy and Sassy. Photos that the public wouldn’t normally get. 

They had definitely called it quits. 

 ======

The run ins with Max continued as he was forced to retire on lap 4. You were on the complete opposite side of the circuit as he pulled into the pit lane, but as he did so, you received a text 

from Isabella. 

Can we swap assignments for the rest of the race? 

No questions asked, you agreed, letting her know where you were currently stationed if she wanted track shooting ideas. You rode the golf cart shuttle back to the pit lane, where Isabella was already long gone. 

One of the many monitors on the wall was the TV coverage showing the Red Bull garage next door, with Max sitting in his car, frustrated. It was understandable, having to give up winning the race because of a car failure. 

You made your way to the pit wall, finding yourself a spot in between the grating of the metal fence that separated you and the track. The rest of the race you were stationed there, alternating taking shots of the cars on track and turning to shoot the boys as they pulled in for a pitstop. 

Carlos and Charles had finished first and second, respectively. From your spot, you were able to capture both cars crossing the finish line, as well as the team celebrating along the wall as they did so. 

As the mechanics and engineers turned to race down to the podium, you turned to follow suit, only stopping when Max’s gaze caught your attention yet again. He was standing outside his garage, clearly showered and changed into his team kit. 

You didn’t expect the sudden jolt in your chest. His gaze held for just a moment too long before both of you broke it simultaneously, you looking down toward the podium, and him to his engineer. Mere seconds later, you met each other's eyes again, GP was gone, and you had a minute or so to spare before the ceremony began. 

“Hey” you said, giving him a soft smile as you approached the rival garage. “Sorry about the race” 

He shrugged, “It’s all good. I can’t win every race, no matter how much I try” he joked, a small chuckle leaving his mouth. 

“Can’t stay on top forever, huh?” you replied, your voice light even though you could sense Max’s frustration lingering beneath the surface. You paused for a moment, debating on whether or not to bring her up. Against your better judgment, you did. “How’s Isabella taking the DNF?” 

Max’s expression shifted for a brief second, and you could immediately tell you hit a touchy subject. His eyes narrowed, a mix of frustration and contentment formed on his face. He let out a small, controlled exhale, before responding in a calm voice. “She gets it. It’s all part of racing.”

Knowing Max, and how much he hated someone pushing his buttons, that’s exactly what you did. And thankfully, you were pretty good at playing dumb.

“Did something happen between you two?” you asked, tilting your head slightly. “She’s usually the one comforting you over here when you have a bad race.” 

“We broke up.” he informed you, his jaw tightened slightly before being released. “Things weren’t working out.” 

Your expression softened for real this time as he confirmed your speculations, noting the slight disappointment in his voice. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up anything-”

“No, you’re fine.” Max interrupted, running his hand through his damp hair. His tone changed, as if he got a second wind, as if he was okay with the split. “I was the one who ended it all.”

You don’t know why your heart pounded a little extra when you heard his explanation. People go through breakups all the time, it’s just a part of life. But the way he said it, so matter-of-factly, yet with an undertone of something unspoken - struck a chord in you. It was almost like there was another factor that contributed to him breaking things off with Isabella. 

You also weren’t sure what to say after that. You couldn’t apologize, that would lead to a never ending cycle you didn’t want to be a part of. 

“I’m sorry.” Max blurted out before you got a chance to find what to say. 

You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden apology. Max Verstappen, of all people, apologizing? It almost felt out of place. He was more than capable of doing so, but it was something you never expected. 

“Sorry?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, as if to make sure you hadn’t imagined it. 

“Yeah,” he nodded, swallowing before he spoke again. “For Singapore. I spoke without thinking.”

You didn’t need to ask what he was referring to. The argument had been burned in your mind. The words thrown at each other, the accusations. It was a tattoo that you couldn’t remove. 

“Yeah, you did” you let out a small chuckle, catching the driver by surprise. The chuckle was quickly followed by a sigh, your voice lowering. “But I think I did too.” 

Max’s brow furrowed slightly at your words, and he looked at you with an unreadable expression, as if he wasn’t quite sure how to respond. For a moment, it seemed like he was trying to process what you meant by that. 

“You did?” he asked, a hint of curiosity creeping into his voice. “I didn’t think… I mean, I wasn’t expecting an apology from you.” 

You shrugged, a little sheepishly, but your gaze held steady. “Yeah, well, I guess I wasn’t exactly calm either. I got caught up in the heat of it too. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did.” 

There was a pause as you both stood there, in this strange in-between space where everything felt more real than it had in a long time. You hadn’t expected to be standing here, having a conversation like this with Max. The silence of car engines being turned off snapped both of you out of your bubble. 

Max glanced down towards the podium, before landing back on you. “You probably should-”

“Yeah, I should go.” you said, turning to walk away. You stopped for a moment, turning back to get his attention one more time. “Hey Max?” 

“Huh?” he asked, looking at you again

“Do you wanna grab a coffee next time we’re both back home?” you asked

Max stared at you for a beat, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. For a moment, you weren’t sure if you caught him off guard or if he was considering the offer. But then, a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, something genuine - almost relieved. 

“Sure.” he said, his voice quieter than it had been “I’d like that.” 

You were surprised by how easy and natural it felt to say those words to him. You hadn’t expected the conversation to take the turn that it did, but something about it felt right. 

“Cool. I’ll see you around, Max.” you replied, finally turning to walk toward post race celebrations that were already underway. 

Monte Carlo, Monaco

Arranging a date to meet took longer than either of you had hoped. Between race weekends, Max buried in sim work and meetings in Milton Keynes, and you flying in and out of Maranello for shoots and content, the calendar seemed to mock you both. When you were both home, it felt like you couldn’t catch a break. You’d pass each other in the halls of your building, both too busy to do more than wave as you hurried to your respective commitments. 

But somehow, after a month of missed opportunities, the stars finally aligned. It was a quiet weekend in between races, and you had a rare break from the chaos.

Max was sitting at his sim, wrapping up the sim racing stream he was doing with some of his friends. As he was logging off, his phone buzzed with a text from you. 

Free tomorrow? Coffee at my place?

His heart gave a little skip. He hadn’t seen you properly in ages, and even though you passed by each other in the halls and paddock, it had somehow felt like months since you’d last had an actual conversation. 

He quickly typed out a reply.

Max: I think I can squeeze it in. Time?

You: 10 AM? I’ll keep the coffee hot

The next morning, he stood in front of your apartment door, adjusting his shirt and trying to ignore the slight flutter in his chest. It wasn’t a big deal, right? Just coffee. 

It took a minute to build up the courage to knock on your door, but when he did, he could feel his stomach flip. He could hear the shuffling of your footsteps - at least he hoped it was just your footsteps from the other side of the door. You didn’t explicitly say Logan would be there, but you also didn’t say he wouldn’t. 

The door swung open, and there you were. You looked relaxed in a gray Miami Dolphins hoodie and leggings, the familiar warmth in your eyes as you greeted him. 

“Hey” you said, your voice soft, with the same warmth that Max loved. “Come in.”

Max stepped inside, letting the door fall gently behind him. The apartment was cozy, and definitely yours. As he passed the kitchen, he noticed photographs and artwork donning the walls, in a tasteful manner, each piece hung with intent. Once you led him to the living room, he instantly took notice of two skateboards mounted on the wall above the couch. The top one painted with the Ferrari lettering, while the bottom one had three skeleton hands flipping him off. 

He couldn’t help but smile when he saw the boards. He should’ve known you would’ve added a touch of your skater past in the apartment, but it was a welcomed touch. It was you. 

“Nice place.” he said, glancing around. The apartment felt a lot like your childhood bedroom, warm, inviting, and very much like it reflected you - comfortable, and lived-in, but matured enough to not seem childish. Maybe it was the slight familiarity of the decorations, or the fact that Logan wasn’t there, but Max felt an odd sense of ease as you guided him further into the living room. 

“Thanks,” you said softly, as you motioned toward the small kitchen counter where the coffee was already set up. “Take a seat. I’ll grab you a cup.”

Max settled onto the couch, glancing at the books and knick-knacks scattered about - a mix of travel souvenirs, racing memorabilia, and more personal items that seemed to tell a story. It was like a puzzle of your life, scattered in front of him, each item a clue.  

When you returned with two steaming mugs of coffee, he snapped out of his thoughts, looking up at you with a small smile. “You know,” he said, taking the cup you handed him and breathing in the rich aroma, “I didn’t think we’d get to do this with our schedules. It’s nice.” 

You returned the smile, your eyes soft with a quiet, easy warmth. “It’s been a while since we’ve actually had time to talk, huh?” you said, making yourself comfy on the couch as well. “We’re both always running around, never getting a chance to actually stop for a minute.” 

Max nodded, cradling the coffee between his hands. The heat was comforting, much different to the coldness you two had been giving each other the entirety of last season. He took a sip of the drink, letting the flavors infiltrate his taste buds. 

“This is really good, y/n. What is it?” he asked, his mind far from the small talk you were having moments earlier. 

You pondered the question for a moment, as if you were trying to find the answer to your question. “This one is the Italian roast. I’ve been alternating between this and a Spanish roast Carlos gave me.” 

Max let out a chuckle at the mention of his former teammate. “Really? He must really know his coffee if he’s giving you tips.” 

A sigh escaped your lips as you leaned back into the couch cushions, your body language casual and comfortable. Max couldn’t help but notice how much easier it felt to be here now. No racing. No rush. 

“You have no idea. We’ve started having to follow him to the espresso machine in the motorhome so we can get his coffee content. But honestly, it’s hard to fight back when he always gives free samples.” 

Max shrugged, “Maybe I need to start bribing him with something to get my hands on some of this next time.” 

“I think a race win would be a perfect trade off” you offered, a smirk playing on your lips

The driver rolled his eyes, but the smile still persisted on his lips. “Hey, some of us are fighting for a World Championship.”

“Yeah, your fourth” you replied 

“You can never have too many” he defended before taking another sip of the coffee, the liquid warming his throat. 

As you two caught up, Max couldn’t help but feel a small shift inside, like the walls that both of you had built up between you over the last year were slowly starting to crumble. The act of sitting there, of just talking, seemed to be more than enough. And from your shift in body language, you seemed to be realizing the same. 

“I think we both needed this,” you said quietly, a small, genuine smile forming on your face. It was a different kind of smile than you usually wore - one that was more open, less guarded. “Just time to breathe.” 

Max nodded, returning the smile back to you. “Yeah, we really did. It was nice to catch up without any distractions for once.” After a long silence, Max sighed, standing up. “But I should probably get going. Thanks again for this.”

You stood up too, walking him to the door. “Anytime,” you said, the soft smile on your lips making his chest tighten a little. “We should do it more often. We’ll both be in town next weekend.” you said. He instantly registered that you meant that you’d both be in town for work. It was about to be the Monaco Grand Prix, afterall.

Max smiled, a genuine curve on his lips. “Definitely” 

And as he stepped out the door, he didn’t want to leave. But the connection had been made. And that was enough, for now. Something had shifted between you. It was subtle, but it was real. 

====== 

The week had flown by, and before you knew it, you found yourself back in the paddock. Just like last year, Logan was staying with you, but Oscar chose to bunk in the team hotel. He claimed that it was “team orders” and they were “nervous that he’d leak important information to the rivals” but you knew he just didn’t want to be the third wheel. You didn’t have a super license, and Logan was driving a dumpster on wheels. 

Regardless of the tractor that Logan was driving, or McLaren’s sudden paranoia, one thing was for certain: when the hometown boy wins, everyone celebrates. The streets of Monte Carlo were always packed with parties during the weekend, but this was another level. 

“Is that Vasseur?” Logan asked as you walked into Jimmy’z, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the crowd. 

You turned in the direction Logan was looking, following his gaze upwards. Sure enough, Fred was high above the crowd, on top of someone’s shoulders. You chuckled, as you shook your head. 

“Well, at least it was easy finding where the team is” you pointed out, your eyes still on the scene.

You both laughed, and as the two of you continued weaving your way through the crowd toward the bar, you couldn’t help but notice how Logan’s body was pressed up against yours, close enough that it was hard to ignore the warmth radiating between you two. The chaos of the club didn’t seem to matter much in that little bubble you’d formed as you stood waiting for the bartender to notice you. 

One of Logan’s arms was lazily draped over your shoulder as the other was resting on the bar, his card in hand. 

You raised an eyebrow at him. “You are not paying” you said as you took notice of his card 

Logan just grinned, not missing a beat. “It’s the least I can do for the winner.” His voice was playful, almost teasing. 

You rolled your eyes, not sure whether to laugh or groan. “I didn’t win anything,” you reminded him. “I simply stood there and took photos of it all.” 

“Eh, minor details.” he said as the bartender finally approached. He ordered for the two of you, listing off your favorite drink as he did so. 

“You know my drink order?” you asked as the bartender went on his way to make the drinks. 

“Of course I do.” he replied, his grin widening as he leaned a little closer “I’ve been paying attention.” 

As the evening wore on, the drinks continued to flow. You and Logan took turns buying each other rounds, with additional drinks being added by other drivers, engineers, and mechanics. 

With the additional amount of alcohol in your system, your inhibitions faded away. You dragged Logan out to the dancefloor, where the music pulsed through the speakers, and the bright lights made everything a little hazy. The crowd was wild, moving in sync to the beat, and you and Logan quickly found yourselves caught up in it all. 

Logan didn’t hesitate for a second, grabbing your hand and pulling you closer as the rhythm took over. You both laughed as you moved together, the chaos of the weekend forgotten in that bubble of energy.

The drinks had hit, and the world around you seemed to blur more. You could feel Logan’s hands exploring your body as you danced, the heat of his touch sending sparks through your skin. The music thumped, almost louder than the racing of your heart, as his body pressed closer to yours, moving in rhythm with yours. The space between you was nonexistent as he held you, the closeness magnetic, impossible to ignore. His hand slid to your waist, pulling you even closer, this breath warm against your ear as he leaned in. 

“Having fun?” he murmured, his voice low and husky

You nodded, your breath quickening, but it wasn’t the music that had you like this - it was the way he was looking at you, like you were the only thing that mattered in that moment. 

A giggle escaped your lips, more carefree than before. “I didn’t think you liked to dance.” you teased before kissing his lips, half expecting him to break the moment and crack a joke. 

Logan’s grin turned more into a smirk, eyeing the door before turning to look back at you. “I mean, I’d rather be moving a different way with you.” 

Normally, you would have dismissed the idea, brushed it off as a joke, and continued the banter. But with your inhibitions long gone, you eyed the exit, the thought of taking Logan home much more alluring than it had been moments earlier. 

You pulled Logan closer to you, crashing your lips against his once again, unable to resist the pull between you two. The kiss was instant, raw, and full of intensity. His lips were warm and urgent against yours, deeping the connection with every movement. 

Logan’s hands found your waist, pulling you tighter against him. The feel of his body against yours was electrifying, and the feeling of the rhythm of his heartbeat matching yours was addicting. His fingers gently traced the line of your back, sending shivers through you, and you couldn’t help but to lean into him more. 

When you finally pulled away, both of you panted, dying for air. Your hand rested on his cheek, his bright blue eyes stared into yours. 

“You wanna get out of here?” you asked, the air returning to your lungs. 

“Please.” he said before taking your hand, leading you out of the club and back home to continue the night. 

The cool night air was a sharp contrast to the head you’d left behind in Jimmy’z. The walk back felt too long, though neither of you said anything. Every now and then, Logan would glance at you with that playful grin, his fingers lightly brushing against your skin. There was no need for words; everything you both wanted seemed to hand in the air, unspoken but understood. 

When you reached your apartment, Logan was quick to open the door, pulling you inside with a quiet urgency. As soon as the door clicked shut behind you, he was on you again, his lips crashing against yours. His hands moved to your back, guiding you backwards until the back of your legs hit the couch. 

Logan’s hands pressed into the small of your back, guiding you down as he followed you, never breaking the kiss. The world around you seemed to fade as everything narrowed to just the two of you - his lips on yours, his touch igniting every nerve in your body. His body was warm against yours, and the heat was intoxicating. 

You pulled him closer, your hands threading through his hair, tugging him deeper into the kiss. The urgency in his movements matched your own, his touch leaving a trail of fire along your skin. The rhythm of your hearts synchronized again as you moved in perfect harmony, the tension in the air building with every passing second. 

He pulled away for just a moment, his breath coming in quick bursts as he looked down at you, his eyes dark with desire. The heat of the moment hung thick between you, both of you caught in the electricity of the connection. 

“You sure?” His voice was low, gravelly, as if he was trying to make sure you were on the same page, but his hands never stopped exploring, his lips never straying far from yours. 

“Yeah” was all that came out of your mouth, before pulling him in once more. 

======

You woke up to the soft weight of blankets wrapped around you, the familiar warmth of Logan’s body pressed against yours. For a split second, it felt like a regular morning - quiet, peaceful. The kind of mornings you’d have after binge watching another season of the Outer Banks. But the details slowly sunk in as your mind came alive. The way his arm was slung over your bare waist. The fact that your legs were tangled beneath the sheets, pressed together in a way they definitely shouldn’t have been. 

You froze. 

The events from the night before began to replay in flashes - the plethora of drinks, the touch of his hand brushing against yours. You hadn’t planned for the night to end like it did, but you let yourself get lost in everything. The kisses he placed on your neck, his low voice in your ear. You both had always danced around this kind of tension, but last night, it was like you couldn’t stop it. It had been inevitable. 

Your chest tightened, and you gently pulled away from him, careful not to wake him. Fortunately, he slept like a rock, and you were able to wiggle out of his grasp and stood without him moving a muscle. 

You stood there for a moment, the quiet of the room wrapping around you as your heart raced. The weight of the situation began to sink in - what had happened between you and Logan was real, and you needed to figure out what you wanted to do about it going forward. 

You ran a hand through your hair, trying to make sense of it all. It was complicated. There was a pull between you - there was no denying that. But what happened last night may have been too much for you. 

Taking a deep breath, you tossed on the Ferrari sweatshirt and sweatpants that were resting on your desk chair and made your way through your apartment to the kitchen. The soft creak of the floorboards under your feet barely made a sound as you moved. You needed space to think, to process. You weren’t sure how things were going to change between you and Logan, but you knew one thing: you had to get out of the in-between thing you had going on with him. 

The steady hum of the coffee maker was oddly comforting as you poured yourself a cup, though your thoughts were anything but still. The warmth of the mug in your hands was a stark contrast to the cold wave of uncertainty that stirred in your mind. You stared into the dark liquid, the aroma doing little to clear the fog in your mind. The night had shifted something between you and Logan, but whether that shift was permanent, or a temporary lapse in judgment, you weren't sure. 

And then there was Max. You thought you had pushed all of your feelings away for that man. Shoved them, along with all of the memories, in a small little closet, never to open. But ever since he sat in your apartment, that door was going to break at any moment. 

You set the mug down, leaning against the counter as your thoughts continued to spiral. Last night had been intoxicating, yes, but in a way that felt more dangerous than thrilling. Logan was your best friend, you couldn’t afford to lose him. As much as you loved the months leading up to the night before, you couldn’t let him break your heart.

And now, there was a chance you would. 

Suddenly, you heard the sound of footsteps from down the hall, slow and tentative. Your heart skipped, and you turned to see Logan standing in the doorway, his hair messy, his expression still sleepy but alert. His eyes found yours immediately, and there was an unease in them that mirrored your own. 

“Hey” he said, his voice rough, trying to gauge your mood. “You okay?” 

You nodded slowly, though the uncertainty still lingered in your chest. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… thinking.” 

Logan hesitated, and then, as if taking a deep breath, he walked toward you. “Look, about last night…” he trailed off, his eyes searching yours as if trying to figure out how to approach the situation. You could tell he was trying to tread carefully, not wanting to make things more awkward than they already were. 

You picked up your mug again, as if hoping the warmth of the liquid would help with what you had to say, and met his gaze. “Yeah, about that…” your voice faltered for a moment before you steadied yourself. “Logan, I don’t know what to do.”

His eyes softened, his gaze lingering on you for a second. “I don’t know either.” He stepped closer, his hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants. “I care about you, and I don’t want things to be weird between us.” 

Somehow, a soft chuckle was the thing that came out of your mouth at his words. “Little too late for that” you said, “I don’t know if we can just pretend everything is fine”

Logan looked at you, his expression shifting to confusion. “What do you mean?” he asked, his voice quiet but heavy with concern

You exhaled, feeling the air fall out of your lungs. You didn’t want to hurt him. The last thing you wanted was to make things worse. But last night - it had been a mistake. Everything had felt so right in the moment, in the months leading up to it, but now, in the light of day, it was clear that it was too much. 

“I think… I think we can’t just go back to how things were.” you admitted, your words tasting bitter on your tongue. “I’ve had fun the past few months, and loved last night. It’s just… I just don’t think we should continue with it.” 

Logan’s face fell, and for a split second, you saw something in his eyes - hurt, maybe, or disappointment. But it quickly masked itself with an understanding that both stung and comforted you.

“Are you saying you regret it?” he asked, his voice barely audible

You shook your head, “I don’t regret it one bit” you said, hoping that would give some comfort to the American. “I just don’t think all of this was supposed to happen. We’re friends, Logan. I don’t want to lose that, and I don’t want to lose you.” 

His gaze softened, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, he gave a small, resigned nod. “I get it” he said, the words barely there, like he was trying to convince himself more than anything. “I don’t want to lose you either.” 

The silence between you both grew thick, heavy with unspoken feelings, and neither of you seemed to know how to bridge the gap that had opened up.

You swallowed hard, your chest tightened. “I think we just need to go back to being friends. Like we were before.” 

Logan sighed, a mix of frustration and sadness in the sound, but he didn’t argue. He just nodded again, the flicker of pain still there, but there was something else in his eyes now - a flicker of understanding that wasn’t there before. 

“Okay.” he finally said, his voice low. “I can do that.”

The words hung between you two, and for a moment, neither of you moved. It felt like there was a distance between you now that hadn’t been there before. You didn’t know how things would be from here, or if they’d ever go back to the way they were. But deep down, you knew you had to try. 

“I’m sorry” you whispered, your voice barely audible

Logan glanced at you, the corner of his mouth lifting a weak smile. “It’s okay” he said, though you both knew it wasn’t. But that was the problem with mistakes. They couldn’t be erased. 

The rest of the morning passed in a muted silence, and though you both pretended that everything was fine, the air between you felt different. Changed. But at least, for now, you were still friends. And that’s all you could hold onto. 

Spielberg, Austria 

For the first time since you started working with the team, Ferrari wasn’t number one on the Bulls hit list, it was McLaren. So, you, along with the rest of the team, were able to enter the Red Bull Ring with ease. 

You found Isabella and Annalese in the hospitality suite, chatting excitedly over pastries and coffee, one of their phones on the table. Isabella looked up first, her eyes lighting up when she spotted you. “There you are!” she called, waving you over. “We were just talking about you.” 

Ever since you swapped assignments in Melbourne, you and Isabella had started talking more. It had been a rough season between you the year prior, but as you two talked more, you found you two had more in common than you thought. Aside from your shared love of photography, you found out she also paints, just with a paintbrush and canvas. 

“Talking about me, huh?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as you sat on the couch next to her. You had come in to look for Carlos and Charles, but the conversation seemed much more interesting than the drivers. 

“Yeah, your episode of Drive to Survive finally came out” Annalease said, glancing down at the phone on the table 

You felt a brief flash of embarrassment, suddenly aware of the attention that your name had drawn. The interview you had done in Austin last season had completely left your mind, until now. Agreeing to do the show had always been a tricky subject, especially when it came to the fact it documented not only the highs and lows of what’s been happening on track, but also painted your personal life and struggles in front of the world. 

“Ugh, don’t remind me” you laughed, trying to brush it off. “It was a… weird experience.” 

Isabella gave you a teasing look, clearly amused. “Weird? You came across great. It was all professional and calm, even when they clearly tried to invade your privacy. I think you looked like a pro.” 

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t suppress a smile with the compliment. “It’s just weird seeing yourself on something like that.” 

Annalese, who had been watching you closely, chimed in. “At least there aren’t any memes being made about you.”

“Yeah, Toto is still living with the aftermath of ‘I have it printed out.’” Isabella chuckled before taking a sip of her drink. 

“True” you said as one of the doors swung open.

The three of you turned to the sound to see Charles leaving one of the meeting rooms. He spotted the three of you almost immediately, a smile on his face as he approached. 

“Or you could be this guy, who doesn’t even need the show to be made fun of” Annalese teased 

The driver’s face dropped as he registered what she had said. “What was that for?” he asked, looking genuinely confused. 

Annalese grinned as she looked at the driver, “Just comforting y/n, she’s worried about her reality TV debut” she said, glancing at you.

“I’m not worried,” you interjected. “I’m just not used to my personal life being aired out for the world to see”

Charles’ face lit up in recognition as he looked at you. “Oh yeah! The episode was really good. We’ve all seen it. You honestly didn’t reveal too much” he said “You handled everything with Max really well.” 

You shot a look at Isabella, checking on her at the mention of her ex-boyfriend. Max had been a topic of plenty of conversations before, but each time you felt the need to make sure it was okay to talk about. The photographer gave you a soft smile, nodding to let you know you were in the clear. 

“Yeah, I mean, everything I said in it is true. I still admire the hell out of him, even after everything we’ve been through our entire lives.” you said 

Charles nodded, clearly understanding the complexity of your feelings. “Max has a way of making things… complicated. It’s good that you’ve handled it with so much grace.”

Yeah. Max was the one that made it all complicated. But Max wasn’t the one to run from whatever you two had going on a few years ago. Max wasn’t the first one to slam the door on you two. Max wasn’t the one to hide.

Before you could say anything else, another door flew open, revealing Carlos walking out. You silently thanked the timing of it all, relieved for the interruption. 

“Perfect, I need both of you.” you said, slinging your camera bag over your shoulder as you looked at the two drivers. 

======

Getting in and out of the Red Bull Ring was always chaotic. Crowds swarmed around the track, a sea of orange wherever you looked, all hoping to catch a glimpse of the three time world champion. 

When it wasn’t the fans though, it was the cameras. You could sympathize with them a little bit more, being a photographer and social media creator yourself, but you also couldn’t stand the ones just dying to get into a driver’s business. They’d shove their lenses where they shouldn’t, getting uncomfortably close to personal spaces, all for a shot that would most likely get lost in the sea of other images flooding the internet within minutes. 

It was quali day, and you had just parked at the track. In the distance, you could hear the chatter of people mixed together with the occasional burst of laughter or shouting. Taking a deep breath, you got out of your car, mentally preparing yourself for the day ahead. 

You opted to try to enter through the back gate, figuring it wouldn’t be as crowded as the main one. It was a little more out of the way, but you would take the exercise over being mobbed. But as you got to the back gate, you could tell it was going to be a battle. 

Fans, photographers, influencers, and reporters alike swarmed the gate, all in hopes of seeing their idol. You kept your head down as you grabbed your paddock pass out of your pocket, hoping you’d go by unnoticed. 

You approached the gate cautiously, following a few of the Red Bull engineers, as you weaved through the swarm as best you could. As you made your way through the last few people, you accidentally bumped into someone. 

“I’m so sorry” you said, turning to apologize. As you met the gaze of the person, you cursed yourself for doing so. 

The person you had bumped into was a photographer, one infamously known for prying himself into the drivers’ business and spreading it all over the internet. His photos were some of the ones that spread around the rumor about you and Max a few years ago. 

Both of you froze, recognition flashing on the photographer's face as well. His camera was in his hands already, most likely prepped to stick its nose in someone’s drama. 

For a second, the world seemed to slow. A small smirk played at the corner of his lips. His finger twitched around the camera, and you could already feel the weight of it - the unmistakable tension of being the subject of his lens. 

Whether you wanted it or not, your sudden stoppage, along with the sound of your voice, drew more attention than just the photographer. Fans had taken notice of your presence, and the buzz around you started to grow. With the Drive to Survive episode just being released, people had you fresh in their minds. 

Cameras flashed and people tried shoving things in your hands - flags, tshirts, pens, their phones - the whole lot. It was overwhelming. You were unaccustomed to the attention - your job always having you in the shadows, being the one creating. 

It felt invasive, and for a moment, you felt completely exposed. The weight of the cameras pressing in on you, the overwhelming noise from the crowd, and the sudden sensation of hands reaching for you felt like an avalanche. 

“Hey!” a familiar voice rang out, causing your head to snap up, but you couldn’t find the source. “Give her room, give her room” 

Through the crowd of people, you could see someone coming toward you, pushing through the crowd. The sea of people parted slightly, and through the shifting mass, you saw Max’s familiar face emerging. He was like a force of nature, moving through the crowd with confidence. 

With one last “move” leaving his mouth, he grabbed your hand, leading you through the crowd. As you passed through the gate, the air on the other side felt calmer. The rush of adrenaline that had coursed through your veins when the crowd had surrounded you started to ebb, and you found yourself taking a deep breath. 

“Are you okay?” Max asked, his voice a little softer than you expected, his eyes searching yours for any signs of discomfort. 

You nodded, still trying to shake off the last remnants of that suffocating feeling. “Yeah, I’m fine.” you answered, looking down to see your hand still holding Max’s. Slowly, you pulled away. “You didn’t need to do that. I would’ve been fine.” 

“No you wouldn’t have, it was just you against how many people?” he said, shooting you a look but a small smile still on his face. “I’m surprised you didn’t walk in with Logan.”

At the sound of his name, your face fell. He was still a tough subject, one you had only told Isabella and Annalese about. 

Max immediately noticed the shift in your expression, the lightness in his voice fading as he took in your sudden change in demeanor. “Did something happen?” he asked, his tone more cautious now.

You hesitated, the weight of Max’s question making your chest tighten. You hadn’t expected him to press, but his concern was genuine, and his eyes softened as he waited for your response. The air felt thick between you, and for a moment, you considered brushing it off. But Max had a way of getting under your defenses, of making you feel like he really wanted to understand. 

“It’s… complicated,” you said, glancing down at the asphalt beneath you for a second. “It ran its course.” 

Max didn’t push any further. Instead, he nodded in understanding, his hand briefly giving your arm a tight squeeze in a way that was somehow more comforting than his words. “I get it,” he said quietly, his voice low. “You don’t have to talk about it if you’re not ready. Just know that I’m here, alright?” 

You managed a small, appreciative smile, feeling the tension in your body begin to ease. Max never made you feel like you had to explain, didn’t make you feel weak for not having everything figured out. It was nice. 

He continued to walk beside you, his pace slow and steady as if he was giving you the space you needed. “It was the same way with Isabella and I… the relationship just wasn’t what we both thought it would be,” Max continued, his voice still calm, his words measured. “You can only go so long pretending things are fine, when deep down, you know they’re not.” 

You looked over at him, surprised. When Isabella had talked about the ending of the relationship, she said similar things - that it ran its course, there was nothing either of them could really do anymore - but hearing the world champion talk about it was different. It was almost hard to imagine him going through anything similar. But the way he spoke, so matter-of-factly, with no shame or anger, made you feel like it wasn’t as unique as it felt. 

Max continued to yap about his relationship, both trying to fill the silence between you but also give you some sort of comfort without you having to go into details, which you were appreciative of. You had missed how much Max talked, how much he could fill the space with his words, without ever putting any pressure on you. 

The two of you stopped as you reached the facade of the Ferrari motorhome, a comforting silence between you for the first time since you saw him. 

“Thanks, Max” you said, your voice more relaxed than before. “For… not pushing, but also sharing everything with me. It helps more than you realize.” 

He glanced at you and gave a half-smile, the usual cheeky glint back in his eyes. “I told you, I’m here for you.” 

You knew Max wasn’t a fan of physical touch. Ever since you were kids, you knew he loathed when someone would try to hug him, or pat his back when he did a good job. But there, in that moment, all you could do was force your arms around him, your body acting on its own before your mind could catch up. 

For a second, he tensed up, caught off guard by the suddenness of it. But then, just as quickly, he relaxed. He didn’t pull away, didn’t seem uncomfortable, and before you knew it, you could feel his hands on your body as well. 

The warmth of his body against yours, the unexpected comfort in the hug, made something shift in your chest. It wasn’t like you needed saving. But being with Max always made you feel less alone, and that was something you knew you couldn’t take advantage of anymore. 

“I don’t know what to say” you whispered, your face pressed against his shoulder, your voice muffled by his polo. 

“You don’t have to say anything.” Max replied softly, his hand rubbing your back. His voice was quieter, much more sincere. “You don’t ever have to explain anything to me. Just know I’m here, always.” 

You pulled back slightly to look at him, your hands still resting on his shoulders as you searched his eyes. There was something in the way he looked at you - no judgment, no pressure - just understanding. 

“Thank you” you said, your voice quieter now as well. “I mean it.” 

Max simply nodded, his gaze softening as he glanced down at you. Suddenly, you remembered his distaste for physical touch, so you moved your hands away from him. 

Your cheeks grew warm with embarrassment. “Sorry about that, I don’t know what came over-” you started 

“You’re fine. I know you needed it” Max interrupted, his voice calm and reassuring. He didn’t seem too bothered by the hug. In fact, there was a certain warmth in his demeanor that made you feel even more at ease. 

The shadow of the Ferrari building rested on the concrete in front of you, a reminder of why you were even in the paddock. The chaos of the weekend all seemed so distant being with Max, that seeing the Ferrari logo sent a jolt of reality back into you. 

You took a step back, glancing back at the building behind you before looking at Max again. “I should probably get back to work.” 

The same realization must’ve hit Max as well, as he cleared his throat and looked up at the red and black facade. 

“Yeah,” Max agreed, his voice almost wistful. He took a half-step back, his hands dropping to his sides though his expression remained soft, like he was holding onto the moment. “Good job, by the way, on the interview for the show.”

The mention of the show caught you off guard. Max was never one to pay attention to the media, especially one that painted him out to be the villain. 

“You watched it?” you asked, curiosity piquing in your voice

He shook his head. “No, but I’ve seen clips floating around.” he admitted, his tone casual but his eyes betraying a hint of genuine interest. “You handled yourself well, honestly you made everything that went down last year… not so important.” 

While the exact questions that you had been asked in that interview were now far from your memory, you do remember being asked about your relationship with Max, how different it was compared to the other drivers since you knew him so long. It had been a touchy subject, but you spoke with complete honesty, knowing how much of your connection with him was private - something you didn’t want to overshare, but realized you couldn’t completely hide. 

Max’s acknowledgement of it now, though, surprised you. 

“I appreciate that,” you said, a smile playing on your lips. “I wasn’t sure how it would come across, honestly. It’s… complicated, you know?” 

Max gave a knowing nod, his eyes soft but focused. “Trust me, I know. But you didn’t give them more than they needed.” his voice had that same reassuring tone as earlier before he chuckled. “I’m just glad you didn’t make me seem like a complete ass too.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, the tension easing a little more with the humor. ‘Oh, I wouldn’t do that to you,” you teased lightly, rolling your eyes. “I care about you too much for that.” 

Max raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Really?”

“Really” you replied with a grin, “You might be a pain in the ass sometimes, but you’re still one of my closest friends.” 

Max let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “You’re lucky I'm not offended by that.” 

“Oh I know” you said playfully before letting out a long sigh. “But I should actually get back to work now.” 

Max chuckled softly. “Go on, I’m sure there’s plenty more to do. But don’t stress too much, yeah?”

“I’ll try not to,” you said, “Thanks again Max. Good luck out there.” 

You watched him walk off for a moment, just like you had for the past two years, before you turned back to the Ferrari motorhome, ready to tackle the rest of the day.

======

The paddock had quieted down as the teams slowly filtered out, the buzz of activity from qualifying hours behind you. Without any additional content to film for the day, you found yourself back in your hotel room earlier than expected, a rare bit of downtime. 

You emerged from the bathroom, steam still hanging in the air, wrapped in your favorite comfy pajama set. Despite the heat outside, your room was chilled to the perfect temperature, giving you an excuse to snuggle up in comfort. 

Normally, after a long day at the track, you’d settle under the covers with a hot cup of tea, diving into editing your photos. But with the last remnants of daylight still spilling through the window, you decided to sit at the desk instead. The view of the town spread out before you, the golden hues of sunset casting a peaceful glow across the streets below. It was the calm you craved, though it didn’t quite settle the restlessness in your mind. 

While Max had done his best to get you out of the crowd and calm you down earlier in the day, the overwhelmingness of it all still haunted your thoughts. The flash of the cameras, the pressure of being surrounded by people, the suffocating feeling of being so exposed. It was an invisible weight you couldn’t shake off. 

You distracted yourself in the best way possible - throwing yourself into your work. Along with the photos from qualifying, you had files of photos from past Grand Prix’s that you never got to edit. The disregarded, B-roll snaps. The ones of the team goofing off, being actually human. The ones that would end up on your photography Instagram and not Ferrari’s.

You scrolled through the gallery, flipping past the perfectly composed shots of drivers in their element and instead landing on the more candid moments. There was one of Carlos and Charles trying to sneak past the media, both of them cracking up, trying to hide behind their oversized sunglasses and floppy hats. Another was of Lando sitting on the edge of the pit wall, yawning and stretching in between stretching in between practice sessions, looking utterly exhausted but still managing a cheeky grin. You smiled softly as you clicked through each of these moments, knowing that while the fans might only see the polished, perfect images, you had the privilege of seeing them as people, not just athletes. 

You began to edit, the familiar routine soothed your fraying nerves. The gentle tapping of your fingers on the keys, the soft click of the mouse, it was grounding in a way nothing else had been all day. A series of photos - Ferrari mechanics huddled together laughing as they shared a joke - was your focus now. You always enjoyed capturing these moments. They were unguarded, full of life and personality. 

As the editing process pulled you further into the flow of work, your thoughts began to settle, the weight of the crowd and the chaos from earlier starting to fade into the background. Time slipped away without you realizing it, until your phone buzzed on the deck in front of you, pulling you out of your concentration. The screen lit up with a message from Charles: Have you seen this?

You furrowed your eyebrows as you picked up your phone, a small flutter of unease forming in your chest. It wasn’t unusual for Charles to send you things, often funny memes - he was chronically online afterall. But there was something about the tone of the message that made you pause. You clicked on the message, half-expecting something lighthearted, but when the link opened, your heart sank. 

It was a post from the photographer. The same one that frequently invaded the drivers’ privacy and shared snippets of the paddock that the general public wasn’t allowed to see. The caption read: CAUGHT IN THE ACT: Max and Ferrari photographer/F1 content creator y/n shared a surprising moment at the Red Bull Ring as Max helped her away from the crowds. Is the Dutchman off the market again?

The image accompanying it was one of you and Max from earlier in the day, when he had pulled you through the crowd. His hand had been around yours, and though you were hardly aware of it at the time, the photo had been perfectly timed, capturing the moment with the two of you caught in the middle of a small laugh. It was innocent enough when you looked at it, but the context added a layer of gossip that neither of you needed. 

Curiosity got the best of you as you scrolled down to the comments, reading everything that everyone had to say. Some fans had already started speculating about a possible relationship, while others were questioning whether there was any truth to the rumors about you and Max from a few years ago. 

You sat back in the chair, massaging your temples, trying to push away the gnawing anxiety that threatened to rise. It was frustrating. You had worked so hard to carve out your own space in the F1 world, to be known for your skills and your work, not for your relationships. And here you were, once again caught in the glare of a spotlight you never asked for. 

The devil on your shoulder whispered in your ear to run. Cut Max off again so you’d never have to deal with shit like this again. 

You shook your head, as though trying to physically dislodge the thought. Cutting Max off had seemed like a viable solution once before, back when the rumors had first started circling a few years ago. The weight of constant attention, the unwanted speculations - it had been too much then. But Max hadn’t been the one who had caused that strain. It was the situation, the pressure, and the way everything had spiraled out of control. You hadn’t wanted to lose that connection with him, but it had been a protective instinct, one you couldn’t quite ignore in that moment of panic. 

But now… now things were different. You weren’t that person anymore, and neither was Max. 

You exhaled sharply, staring at the screen in front of you, the comments still scrolling endlessly below the post. It was hard to ignore the pull of curiosity, but each new comment made the knot in your stomach tighten. There were even a few insults mixed in, questioning your motives, accusing you of using Max for attention. 

This wasn’t what you wanted. You weren’t in this for the drama. You didn’t care about the headlines, about being in the center of the gossip. You cared about the work, about capturing the moments that mattered, about the people behind the helmets and the brands. 

But the reality of the world you had stepped into meant that everything could be turned into a story. Even the smallest moments, like a laugh shared with a friend, could be twisted and misinterpreted. 

Your phone buzzed again, snapping you out of your spiraling thoughts. Another message from Charles: Are you okay? Let me know if you want to talk. 

You blinked, the words settling in a bit more. Charles had always been kind, always trying to help you navigate the chaos of life in the paddock. But the last thing you wanted was for him to feel like he had to protect you, or worse, get caught up in the drama. He had enough on his plate already. 

I’m fine. Just a bit overwhelmed, you know? You typed back, staring at the screen before pressing send. It’s just the way this stuff gets out of hand so quickly. I appreciate you checking in though.

The message sent, but your phone felt heavier in your hand than it had moments before. You stared at the screen, the buzzing of notifications a constant reminder that you weren’t in control here. 

The temptation to shut everything out, to disconnect, was powerful. But running away from the noise didn’t stop it from following you. You needed to keep moving forward. This wasn’t the first time you’d faced something like this, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Still, the thought of dealing with the backlash - online and possibly in person - was enough to make you want to crawl under the covers and forget about everything for the rest of the night. 

Instead, you clicked on the next photo to edit, your fingers moving methodically as you lost yourself in the familiar task again. This was your element. Behind the lens. In the background. Not the subject, not the story. Just the creator. 

Monza, Italy

Monza was one of your favorite tracks. Regardless of your contractual obligations to like it because your employer was Ferrari, you loved the history, the speed, and the fact it was a beautiful track to photograph. 

You, Isabella, Charles and Carlos were on track walks as the morning sun cast long shadows on the tarmac. The boys were in deep conversation with their engineers about the differences in the track from last year, while you and Isabella walked several feet behind them, capturing them in the action. 

You raised your camera to snap a picture of Charles, his figure framed perfectly against the towering grandstands in the distance. He was talking intently to his engineer, gesturing to one of the corners, and his face was etched with concentration. Carlos, not too far ahead, was listening attentively, his posture relaxed but his attention unwavering. They looked so in sync with the track, every move purposeful and deliberate, just like the machines they commanded. 

A few of the other drivers were doing their walk as well. Valtteri had already lapped you guys once or twice pedaling around on his bike, looking far more relaxed than you’d expect before a race weekend. Pierre and his engineer were also far ahead of the Ferraris, their pace much quicker than your group. It always amazed you how every driver had their own approach to each track. 

It wasn’t long into your walk that you heard the sound of a familiar lisp behind you. You turned your head, your gaze falling on none other than Max himself. To your side, you could see Isabella’s camera clicking away at the boys in front of you, completely oblivious to the sight behind. 

Max was talking GP’s ears off, the topics most likely ranging from everything to nothing. Out of habit, you raised your camera once more, getting shots of the duo in their natural habitat. Max must’ve heard you, because his gaze flicked over, a playful grin on his face. 

“Trying to avoid me?” he asked, his voice teasing

You rolled your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips. “Not at all,” you replied, though you couldn’t help but laugh as you raised your camera slightly. “Just doing my job.” 

The two of you returned your attention to what you had been focused on prior to the interaction. You were about to chime in on Charles’ conversation, but before you could, Isabella whispered. 

“What is going on between you and Max?” she asked 

Your eyes widened for a moment, her question catching you off guard. There was something going on between the two of you, you just didn’t think Isabella was the right person to tell, after her history with him. 

“I-” you started, trying to find the right words. “There’s nothing going on. Max and I go way back. It’s complicated.” 

The look that Isabella gave you showed that she could see right through you. “Oh come on. I’m not stupid. He dragged you out of the crowd in Austria, and I see the way you two look at each other.” she said. “If you’re worried I’m gonna be mad because Max and I dated, I’m not.” 

You blinked, caught off guard by her directness. The tightness that had been slowly building in your chest instantly disappeared, and you couldn’t help but to feel a bit more exposed. 

“Yeah, I mean um…” you began, not sure if you were ready to come to terms with the ideas floating in your head. You glanced over your shoulder one last time to ensure that Max was way out of earshot. “I may still have feelings for Max again.” 

Isabella raised an eyebrow, her expression slightly softening as she took in your words. She didn’t look shocked or judgmental - just curious, like she’d expected this at some level. It was hard to tell if it was because she knew you well enough or if it was her own history with Max that made the situation feel less complicated for her. 

“I had a feeling.” she began, her voice calm. “And I can tell that he still has feelings for you too.” 

Your head cocked slightly, curiosity flooding through. “How do you know?” 

Isabella took a deep breath, and just like you had moments earlier, turned to make sure Max was out of range. “Before we broke up, I saw him lurking on your socials - nothing crazy, just looking to see what you were up to, like he missed you.”

Your breath caught in your throat at Isabella’s words. The idea of Max keeping an eye on your socials, even after everything that had happened between you two, hit you harder than you’d expected. It made sense in a way - Max had always been a little hard to read, but that subtle action… it felt personal. It felt like something more than just idle curiosity. 

“He was?” you asked, your voice quieter than you had intended. Hearing it come from Isabella of all people made your head spin. 

Isabella nodded slowly, her eyes softening even more as she gave you a sympathetic look. “Yeah. Again, not in a creepy way or anything - more like he was just checking in. He’d always been interested in what you were up to. He’d ask us how you were even when things between you and I were … rocky.” 

You swallowed, unsure whether you were relieved or confused by the information. Did this mean Max had been silently holding onto something? Had he always felt this way, or was it a recent development? The thought of him lingering in the background of your life like that - no matter how subtle - stirred something within you.

“I-I’m sorry” you said, the words slipping out before you could stop them

Isabella gave you a small, reassuring smile, as if she understood the confusion in your voice. “You don’t have to apologize,” she said gently, her tone still calm. “I’m not upset, really. I just think Max has been… uncertain about a lot of things. You know he doesn’t do well with vulnerability.” 

The sound of Max’s voice reached you then, breaking the moment between you and Isabella. He was still talking with GP, but you could see the playful glint in his eyes as he gestured animatedly about something. Even from this distance, it was clear that the pull between you two was still there, unspoken but undeniable. 

======

What also was undeniable was a missing presence in the paddock. While you and Logan hadn’t explicitly talked since he was in your apartment in Monaco, you two would usually wave to each other when passing by in the paddock. 

Your mind began to race with all sorts of thoughts, questioning if he had been around and you had just missed him. But something in you knew you didn’t, the blue Williams shirt he always wore on media day stood out like a sore thumb. 

You tried to brush it off, telling yourself maybe he was busy with his team or caught up in a meeting, but something kept tugging at your gut, urging you to look closer. It wasn’t like Logan to completely disappear. You could see drivers, engineers, mechanics, and other staff members move about the paddock, focused on their tasks, yet Logan’s absence was still obvious in its silence. 

“Have you guys seen Logan?” you asked Annalese and Charles as you walked into Ferrari hospitality. 

Annalese and Charles exchanged knowing glances as you stopped in front of them. Their facial expressions ranged, as if they were silently arguing. 

“You haven’t heard?” Charles asked 

You shook your head, brows furrowed in confusion. “Heard what?” 

Annalese shifted uncomfortably, her hands gripping the edge of her cup as she glanced between you and Charles, the silence hanging heavily between you all. Charles sighed, running a hand through his hair, and finally spoke up. 

“Logan isn’t on the grid anymore.” Charles finally said, “He got dropped on Tuesday.” 

The words hit you like a ton of bricks. “Dropped?” you repeated, the word feeling foreign in your mouth as the shock began to settle in. “Why?” 

Annalese exchanged another glance with Charles, her face grim. “Obviously we don’t know everything that’s going on over there.” she said softly, as though she didn’t want to be the one giving you the news. “But Williams decided to part ways with him after everything that’s been happening. It just… wasn’t working out.”

Your heart raced, your mind trying to process what they were saying. While you and Logan hadn’t been on speaking terms for a few months, you knew he had always been so focused, so dedicated to the team. He’d been through a lot over the past year and a half, but you never imagined it would come to this. You thought he was pushing through. You thought he would find his way. 

You thanked the duo for the information before you made your way up the stairs to one of the lounges. The lounge was empty, which you were silently thankful for. You don’t know what you would’ve done if you had to talk to anyone. 

As you laid down on the couch, thoughts of Logan filled your head. He was probably back in his apartment in the UK, cleaning it out, prepping to move. Or he had already done all that and was on a flight back to the States. Regardless, your heart grew heavy thinking of having to face everything on his own. 

You thought about reaching out, offering a shoulder to cry on if needed. But he wasn’t the one who broke the news to you - Charles and Annalese had. And they probably found out about it from an Instagram post with the word breaking in all caps and bold at the top. 

It wasn’t your place to invade. 

Even if you did reach out, you didn’t know what you would say. Sorry you got dropped? That felt hollow, insufficient. How could you convey the regret you were feeling for not being there when he needed someone the most? How could you fix the distance between you two, which had been growing for months? 

You opted for a way that only you knew how. 

You spent way too much time digging through your camera roll to find a collection of photos of Logan. Professional snapshots of him driving on track, walking around the paddock, but also personal ones, like the trip you had taken to the White Cliffs of Dover, or the goofy photos of him trying to paint like you. The photos were arranged into a collage before you uploaded it as an Instagram story, adding the caption Missing you in the paddock. 

It was small, but a way to acknowledge the void left by his absence, a silent message that you still cared, that you hadn’t forgotten him despite everything. 

As you uploaded the story, your thumb hovered over the screen, debating whether to tag him. You hesitated, thinking that maybe it would seem too much, too soon. But then, in an almost impulsive decision, you tagged his handle, before quickly pulling your finger away from the screen.

The olive branch had been extended. It was up to him whether or not he wanted to accept it. 

======

Most of the weekend was spent trying to forget about the Logan news. You tried not to check your phone obsessively, to avoid waiting for a response that may never come. But each time you thought about it, a part of you felt like you were holding your breath. 

For better or for worse, you were by yourself during the race, out along the barriers trying to capture photos of the team. Each time the blue Williams car drove by, you’d find yourself slightly smiling, only for it to drop when you saw the number forty-three attached to it. 

Fortunately, with each lap that passed, your pity party turned into a rush of adrenaline. You knew Charles, as well as the entire Ferrari team, wanted to win at their home race. And you knew they were all crazy enough to do whatever it took to get there. 

The race seemed to go on forever, as Charles dominated the field. He was well ahead of either McLaren, and showed absolutely no signs of slowing down. 

It was then that you caught a glimpse of Max’s car speeding by - your thoughts immediately drifting to him. Despite everything going on in front of you, you couldn’t escape the pull of the memories you had with him and the fact he had been stalking you on social media. Your stomach fluttered for a brief second before you shook your head and snapped another photo, trying to focus on the race once more. 

As the laps left moved down to the single digits, you hopped in the golf cart to get to the pit wall before the chequered flag was waved. 

You pressed up against the wire fencing, hoping to capture each car as they passed through the final laps. You could feel the tension rising not just from the team, but from the grandstands, hoping for that long awaited home victory. 

And when that chequered flag waved, Charles was the first one over the finish line. 

Your camera captured Charles, the team, and the grandstands at lightning speed. Every angle you could take, you did. This is what the fans had waited five years for. 

The podium and the celebrations that followed late into the night were a blur. Just like in Monaco, the entire town came alive from the victory. It was overwhelming, but in the best possible way. 

But as you finally got into bed that night, your head doing cartwheels from the amount you had to drink, your mind wandered to Logan and Max. You hoped that the American was okay, and that the Dutchman would finally man up and make a move. 

Monte Carlo, Monaco

The coffee dates you had started with Max earlier in the season slowly turned into meeting up with each other whenever you could, no matter the time of day. Whether it was you playing with his cats as he exercised out on his balcony, or him watering your plants in the background of your Zoom meetings, you guys would always make time for each other. 

It felt easy, comfortable - like the two of you had fallen into a rhythm that neither of you anticipated but both of you were secretly grateful for. The spontaneity of it all was both exciting and calming. One moment, you’d be in a rush, prepping for a shoot or editing photos late into the night, and next, you’d get a message from Max, asking if you had time to talk. 

The racing calendar had prompted for a three week break, allowing you and Max some well needed rest at home. Max had brought the cats over to your apartment, and he was playing with them in the living room as you were preparing dinner for the two of you. The sound of Jimmy’s meows mixed with Max’s occasional laugh as he jumped on his lap, swatting at the toy you had set up earlier. Sassy was perched on your cabinet, watching you as you made pasta. 

“I swear she loves you more than she does me” Max called from the living room as he watched Sassy perched on the cabinet, her eyes fixed on you like you were the most fascinating thing in the world. 

You chuckled softly, stirring the pasta boiling in the pot. “It’s probably the pasta” you teased, glancing over your shoulder to find Max grinning. “She knows good food when she sees it.” 

Max shook his head dramatically. “She’s such a traitor.” he muttered, though his voice was light with amusement. “Have you thought about getting a pet?”  

You pondered the question for a moment, “Maybe…” you trailed off back into thought. “I just don’t know if I’d have time for one, with all the traveling, you know?” 

Max nodded, “I get that. It’s tough leaving these two all the time.” he said as Jimmy snuggled up in his arms. “But if you were to get one, what would you name it?” 

“I wouldn’t name them after clubs in Monaco, that’s for sure” you teased before tilting your head slightly, letting the question hang in the air for a moment. “Knowing me, I’d name it after an artist, like Donatello or something.” 

“An artist or a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle?” Max chuckled 

You rolled your eyes, but before you could respond, your phone ringer dinged, signalling you got a text. Your eyes darted around the kitchen, looking for any sign of your phone, only for it to be resting on the coffee table in the living room. 

“Can you check and see who it is? I don’t wanna miss it if it’s work related.” You asked

Max nodded, reaching for your phone. You watched as his eyebrows furrowed at the screen in his hands. Max’s fingers paused for a moment as he read the message, his expression shifting from casual curiosity to something more unreadable. You noticed his lips pressed into a thin line, his relaxed demeanor now clouded with a hint of concern. He didn’t say anything for a beat, just kept staring at the screen. 

“Is everything okay?” you asked, the sudden silence between you two unsettling. 

Max didn’t immediately respond. He looked up at you, then back down at the phone, as if weighing something in his mind. “It’s… Logan,” he said finally, his voice careful.

Your stomach dropped at the mention of Logan’s name. You hadn’t heard from him since that morning in your apartment, and the thought of him now, unexpectedly, made your pulse race a little faster. 

Max’s reaction made sense now. During one of your late night chats, you had filled him in on what happened with you and Logan. You could tell he was mad how Logan handled you while both of you were intoxicated, despite how the American treated you when sober. 

Max’s eyes stayed on you as you absorbed the news, clearly trying to gauge your reaction. ‘Do you want me to read it?” he asked, his voice gentle. 

You shook your head, taking a deep breath before walking over to where Max was in the living room. “No, I’ll look at it,” you said quietly, trying to sound steady. You needed to be in control of this, no matter how much it made your stomach churn.

“Hey, I saw your post a few weeks ago. Just wanted to let you know I have an IndyCar test with MSR in November.” 

The message on your phone seemed innocuous at first, just a simple update, but something about it made your stomach tighten.

You stood there for a moment, staring at the words, not sure how to process the sudden shift. It was strange - Logan had always been a mix of casual and serious when it came to racing, but this felt different. The way he was reaching out now, after so long, felt distant in a way. 

You took a slow breath and glanced over at Max, who was watching you closely. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t said anything, but his expression spoke volumes - caution, concern, and perhaps even a hint of frustration. The silence between you felt heavy, like a quiet storm waiting to pass. 

Max spoke first, breaking the tension. “So… is he just checking in?” His voice was guard, but you could hear the underlying hint of something deeper - protectiveness, maybe?

You shook your head, trying to shake off the swirling in your head. “I don’t know what it is, honestly. He’s been quiet for so long…” you began, running a hand through your hair. “I know I left the door open for him to reach out, but it’s just odd that he popped up the second he had another test lined up. Like he wants me to see how much better I am without him.” 

Max remained silent for a moment, his gaze never leaving you, as if trying to decipher what you were feeling. “Do you think he’s trying to make you feel guilty?” he asked, considering the scenario from all angles. 

Immediately, you shook your head, dismissing the idea. “No, he’s not the kind of guy to do that.”

Max nodded slowly, though his expression didn’t shift. “Got that. Maybe he’s testing the waters to see if you’re still willing to have him in your life?” 

“Maybe?” you questioned. “I made it clear that I only wanted to be friends with him that morning.”

“I know you did,” he said, shifting up straighter, careful not to wake the cat that had fallen asleep in his lap. “You don’t have to respond. And if you do, let it be on your terms. Don’t let him pull you back into that uncertainty.” 

The sincerity in his voice lifted a weight off your shoulders. Just like he did in Spielberg, he managed to pull you out of your thoughts and back down to earth. 

“You’re right.” you said softly, meeting his gaze. “I guess I just needed to hear it from someone else.”

“Of course,” he said, a smile on his face as he got up from his spot on the floor. He set Jimmy, who was still sound asleep, on your couch before moving towards the kitchen. “But if you do decide to reach out or talk to him again, I’m here, okay? No judgments. Just… you.” 

“Thanks, Max. Seriously.”

He gave you a teasing grin as he grabbed a plate from the cupboard. “Now, about dinner - if you’re done having your crisis, I’m ready to eat. I was promised pasta, not a therapy session.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh as you moved to grab the bottle of wine on the counter. “Right.” 

======

As the night went on, so did the glasses of wine. Dinner had long been eaten, and the dishes were cleaned up. You and Max stood out on your balcony, watching over the Monaco harbor, glasses of wine in your hands. The city lights twinkled below, reflecting off the water, creating a peaceful hum that matched the evening. The cats were inside, both entertained by the new scratching post you had set up for them. 

Max leaned up against the railing next to you, the breeze moving in a way that let you get a whiff of his cologne. His gaze was fixed on the horizon, but you could tell his mind wasn’t entirely on the view. He had a thoughtful look on his face, the one that always made you curious about what he was thinking. 

“What’s on your mind?” you asked softly, unable to stop yourself

Max didn’t immediately respond. He gave a small shrug, still looking over the harbor. “I don’t know.” he said eventually, his voice low, like he was still thinking through whatever had been on his mind. “Just… everything.” 

You took a sip of your wine, letting the cool liquid slide down your throat, giving you a moment to think. It was clear that his thoughts weren’t about everything, or everyone. 

“Are you still thinking about Logan?” you finally asked 

Max’s head turned slightly at your question, his gaze shifting from the harbor to you, but again, he didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he followed in your footsteps and took a long sip of his wine, his eyes lingering on the glass for a second before meeting yours. 

“It’s hard not to, right?” He asked, “You’ve got a lot of history with him.” 

You could feel the weight of his words, the implication that what happened between you and Logan still lingered in the air, unspoken but present. Your stomach tightened a little, and you didn’t know it was because of Max’s casual mention of Logan, or the fact you had asked a question you weren’t sure you were ready to answer yourself.

“I know” you said after a beat, your voice quieter now. “I know you’re looking out for me, but like I said, Logan was a mistake. If I were to reply to him, it would be as friends.” 

You don’t know what came over you next. Maybe it was the liquid courage in your veins, or maybe it was the fact that the confession was going to kill you unless you told him, but you continued to talk. 

“I also made another mistake, Max” you admitted, looking down at the liquid swirling in your glass before you met his gaze once again, coming to terms that you were going to confess. “I should have never ran away from you years ago.” 

Max was quiet for a long moment, the only sound the soft rustling of the breeze and the distant hum of the city below. You couldn’t help but watch his reaction, trying to gauge if your words had landed in the way you intended. The confession felt raw, more than you had intended, but it was out now, hanging between the two of you like a fragile thing that could shatter at the slightest touch. 

Max’s lips pressed together for a second, and he turned his gaze back to the water. You couldn’t tell if he was processing your words, or just avoiding looking at you. The silence stretched on, and you began to regret everything you’d just said. Maybe it was too much. Maybe he didn’t need to hear it. 

“You don’t have to apologize for that.” Max finally spoke, his voice much softer now. “I know you had your reasons for what you did back then, and I have my reasons for how I reacted. But I think we’re both adult enough to move past it.” 

You felt a weight lift off your chest, though it was still tinged with uncertainty. His words weren’t an immediate fix, but they offered a glimmer of reassurance. You had expected judgment, maybe even a withdrawal from him, but instead, he was speaking with a level of understanding you hadn’t anticipated. 

“I didn’t want to run away from us” you added, your voice barely a whisper, the truth of the moment still biting at you. The post from Spielberg flashed in your mind. “I think I was just… scared. I didn’t know how to handle everything that was happening, with you and with me. It wasn’t just about us. It was everything.” 

Max glanced at you then, his eyes softening, the earlier tension in his posture easing. “You don’t have to explain. We were both young and dealing with things we didn’t know how to handle,” he said, his voice calm, almost like a quiet comfort. “I saw the posts too.” 

“You did?” you asked, your head tilting slightly. It was unlike him to pay attention to the gossip and the rumors. 

“I’m on social media a lot more than you think.” he chuckled, his tone lighter than it had been before.

“Oh I know, I heard you kept tabs on me when we weren’t talking.” you teased, nudging your elbow into his side.

Max let out a laugh, shaking his head as he glanced over at you. “Guilty as charged,” he said with a smirk. “But I never commented or liked anything. Just… well, you know, checking in now and then.” His expression softened again as he added, “I wasn’t stalking, just… curious.” 

You raised an eyebrow, trying to keep the mood light, but part of you couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed by the thought. “Curious about what, exactly?” you asked, teasing but with an edge of vulnerability in your voice. 

Max took another sip of his wine before responding, his tone thoughtful. “Curious if you’d figured things out. Curious if you’d be okay. And, if I’m honest, curious if we’d ever talk again.” He turned to face you more fully, his eyes serious but still warm. “I didn’t want to push. I didn’t know what you needed, or if you needed anything from me at all.” 

He took a step closer to you as he kept talking. “And when you left, I thought I needed to get over you, to move on. I didn’t specifically pick Isabella because she was close to you. I did it just because she was there that night. And then for a good while, it seemed you had everything figured out. You had Logan, and I felt like I messed up my chances with you.”

You felt a pang in your chest as Max spoke, the vulnerability in his voice surprising you. You hadn’t expected him to open up like this, to share what had been on his mind all these years. 

You swallowed, your grip on your wine glass tightening slightly. “I didn’t think you needed to get over me,” you said quietly, your eyes searching his. “I thought you moved on.” 

Max shook his head, his gaze steady on you. “It wasn’t that simple. I told myself I needed to, but I couldn’t. I tried to convince myself I was fine, but… I wasn’t. I just didn’t know how to reach out to you again after everything that happened.” 

His words struck a chord deep inside you. It was strange to hear that he’s been in pain too, that the distance between you hadn’t been something you’d imposed on yourself. 

“Max, I’m sorry… I never meant to -” you began

“Schat, you don’t need to apologize. We’re both past it.” he interrupted, though his voice was still soft. “I think it’s now a matter of where do we go from here?” 

“That depends,” you said, turning to him, “What do you want?” 

Max paused, his expression softening as he processed your question. His eyes locked onto yours, his lips parting slightly as though he were carefully weighing his words. You had a feeling you knew what he was going to say, and you were perfectly set on the offer. 

“I want to make things right.” he said. “I don’t want to keep wondering what could have been.” 

You felt your heart race, the intensity of the moment sweeping over you like a tidal wave. It felt like everything you’d both been holding back, all the years of uncertainty and unspoken words, were finally coming to a head. 

“I don’t want to wonder either,” you admitted, your voice quieter, yet much more certain. You reached out and gently placed your hand on his arm, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingers.

“Then let’s see where this goes,” he said as he stepped closer to you, his body language open and vulnerable. “Together.” 

The words settled in the space between you, hanging there, like an invitation that was too simple, too perfect to refuse. You felt a warmth spread through your chest, the kind that made everything feel right again, like you were exactly where you were meant to be. 

You stepped closer to him, closing the distance until you could feel the faint beat of his heart, both of you drawn together. 

Without another word, Max cupped your face with his free hand, and kissed you. It was soft at first, tentative, like both of you were finally allowing yourselves to feel what had been buried for so long. But then, as if the years past melted away, the kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, more real. The taste of wine lingered between you, but the meaning of the kiss was much more intoxicating than the drinks prior. 

When you pulled back, breathless but smiling, you both lingered in the moment, eyes locked, hearts still racing. Max’s forehead rested against yours, as you spoke. 

“So how about we celebrate with a batch of cookies?” you asked knowing you had refilled your cookie jar for him. 

“It’s like you read my mind” he chuckled as he took your hand, leading you back into the familiarity of your apartment. 

São Paulo, Brazil

Brazil was wet. 

The amount of rain that had fallen from the sky was borderline monsoon level. Every step you took was filled with the squelch of water in your socks and shoes. The normally buzzing paddock was now silent as team members huddled in their motorhomes and garages waiting for the go ahead to start qualifying. 

You and Isabella had tried to keep busy, as well as the fans engaged, by snapping photos and forcing some of the engineers into videos. But no matter how many artistic snapshots of raindrops you took or insane mini mic questions you asked, the two of you repeatedly ended up taskless.

The two of you found yourselves in the hospitality suite that overlooked the pitlane, sitting at the window as you watched the rain fall. In the ten or fifteen minutes you had been there, you’d already seen Kimi Antonelli be pushed out into the pouring rain and a few Williams engineers race rubber duckies. 

You leaned your head against the glass, watching the chaos below, feeling a strange mix of boredom and amusement. The unpredictability of it all - cars that should have been speeding down the straights now parked and idle - felt like a strange world.

“Have you heard from Logan at all?” Isabella asked as she stared at the Williams engineers down below, dragging you out of your thoughts.

The phone in your pocket grew heavier as you straightened up slightly, hesitating to answer the question. While you had filled her in about everything with Max, you failed to give her one minor detail.

“Uh yeah, I actually did. A few weeks ago.” You admitted, “He’s doing some testing with an IndyCar team sometime this month. Not really sure. I didn’t reply.” 

Isabella raised an eyebrow at your words, her gaze shifting from the engineers below to you, a knowing look forming. “You didn’t reply?” she repeated slowly, her words laced with curiosity.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, feeling the weight of her gaze. “I didn’t know what to say” you admitted, trying to defend your decision. “And plus, I was a little occupied with Max.”

“You made things official with Max the same day Logan texted you?” she asked, shock now coming into her words. 

A sigh escaped your lips as the weight of the conversation pressed down on you. “I didn’t plan it that way.” you explained, your hands fidgeting in your lap. “It just… kind of happened. It wasn’t like I was purposefully avoiding Logan or anything, I just didn’t know how to respond.”

Isabella remained silent for a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in your words. The silence hung between you for a moment, the rain outside intensifying, the sound of it hammering against the windows in the otherwise quiet room. 

“So, what are you going to do?” she asked after a beat, her tone softer but still inquisitive. “Because if I recall correctly, you gave him the opportunity to reach out, and he did.” 

“You’re right” you said, running a hand through your wet hair. “But I don’t even know how to bring it up. I can’t just text him and act like nothing’s changed. I don’t wanna string him along.” 

“You owe it to him,” Isabella said, her tone gentle but firm. “And to yourself, to be honest. He deserves to know where you stand, even if it’s awkward.” 

Her eyes lingered on you, hinting that she wanted you to reply now. Slowly, you took your phone out of your pocket and unlocked the device. 

You stared at the screen, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. You could feel Isabella’s gaze on you, her silent encouragement urging you on to take the plunge. The weight of the conversation, of everything left unsaid, pressed down on you. Logan deserved more than this silence. 

With one last deep breath, you typed out the message that had been swirling in your head for the last few weeks. 

Hey, congrats on the test, hoping it goes well. Sorry it took so long to get back to you, I’ve been busy with work. 

You read it over once, then twice. It felt right - congratulating him on his accomplishment while not seeming too overboard. You figured it wouldn’t be great to bring up Max quite yet, but you knew you couldn’t avoid it forever. So, you added: 

I’ve been meaning to let you know where I am, and things have changed a bit on my end. I’ve started seeing someone else, but like I’ve said multiple times, I’m always open to being friends. 

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you hit send. 

Isabella watched as you set the phone down, the tension still in the air between you. “It’s done.” she said quietly, her voice reassuring. 

“I hope I didn’t make things worse” you replied, your gaze flicking nervously to the phone on the table, waiting for a response. 

Minutes passed, and just as you were starting to second-guess yourself, the phone buzzed.

Yeah I get it, I appreciate the honesty. I’m happy for you, but you should know I don’t wanna throw away that friendship. 

You read the message out loud, prompting a smile on Isabella’s face. “See? Not so bad, right?” 

“Yeah, yeah. It was fine.” you said, rolling your eyes, but still forming a small smile on your face. 

======

For the first time since you started working in Formula 1, a super Sunday was on the table. The incredulous amounts of rain pushed qualifying to Sunday morning, prompting an early wake up for everyone. Texting with Logan had made things a bit better, the two of you had been chatting back and forth nonstop since you finally replied. 

You could already hear the sounds of drill guns and dremels in the distance as the teams prepped for the rescheduled qualifying session. The rain had been relentless, but now, under the early morning light, the drizzle had calmed just enough to let everyone get back to business. The Celcius in your hand was enough to get you started in the morning, but you knew you needed a second wind later in the day. 

As you passed by Ferrari’s hospitality to get to the garage, the familiar Red Bull logo loomed over you. The temptation was strong, and for a brief moment, you thought about slipping into the blue building. You could grab a can without anyone noticing. But then you remembered you did have a commitment to Ferrari, and you couldn’t be caught repping another team. 

Instead, you took another sip of your Celsius, and with a deep breath, you walked straight to the bright red garage. 

Both Ferrari cars did as well as they could in the crappy conditions. No one in the paddock was having a good time, especially Max. While he had qualified twelfth, he was pushed back to seventeenth due to his combustion engine being changed. 

As the race went underway, it was as chaotic as you could have imagined it. Water had pooled into places no one ever expected, and seemed to throw everyone off of their game except Max.

Growing up, you knew Max was going to succeed in the most challenging conditions. In grade school you would overhear him telling stories about how he was out karting all day in the rain and snow, going until he felt more than comfortable. You thought it was absurd, risking frostbite and illness for a career he wasn’t even sure he would get. But watching him now, claw back from seventeenth, in these miserable conditions, it all made sense. 

Max was the first one to cross the finish line, leading to a roaring celebration from your garage neighbors. You felt a strange, bittersweet joy wash over you as you snapped the photos of Charles finishing in fifth. You couldn’t help but to be proud of your boyfriend, it was his race from start to finish. A flawless performance that left the rest of the grid in his wake. 

As Carlos had crashed earlier in the race, once Charles crossed the finish line, you made your way back to the garage, planning to prepare for the interviews. You were fiddling with the mini mic when Isabella approached you. 

“What are you doing?” she asked, causing you to look up. 

You blinked for a moment, processing her question. “Uh, prepping for Charles’ post race stuff.” you said as if it was obvious. 

“Don’t you wanna go see the podium?” she asked, the roar from the crowd in the distance signalled that the top three had parked in parc ferme. 

“It’s okay, I don’t have to. There’s work that needs to be done.” you replied, scanning the area to see if Charles had returned yet. 

Isabella furrowed her eyebrows “You don’t want to see Max? Especially after that drive?” 

You shrugged in response. “I’ll see him on the flight back” you answered. The two of you had already arranged plans for you to join him on his jet. 

Isabella looked at you like you were the hardest math problem she’s ever had to solve. “Go to the podium,” she ordered. “You always covered for me when I ran off. I got Charles’ stuff.” 

She walked over to where you were, taking the mini mic and all of its wiring from you. Before you could open your mouth to protest, she glared at you again. “Go!” 

Without another word spoken between you two, you darted out of the garage and down the pitlane to where the celebrations were. The adrenaline from the race still lingered in the air as the teams waited for their drivers to come out. Alpine was on one side, and Red Bull on the other. 

All three drivers had gone to the cooldown room when you arrived. You opted to stay towards the back of the crowds, hoping and praying that no one would question what you were doing there. While you both had told family and a few friends about your relationship, it hadn’t been made completely public yet. You wanted to enjoy the beginnings of it out of the public eye and the scrutiny. 

Pierre and Esteban looked thrilled as they took their places on the podium, flashing wide smiles and quite literally jumping for joy. Rightfully deserved, of course. You could hear their names being chanted, their team and fans rallying behind them. But the atmosphere shifted slightly as Max stepped out. 

The crowd’s roar somehow grew even louder, and you could see his trademark smile lighting up his face as he made his way to the top step. The drive would surely go down in history, and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride swell inside as you watch his raw emotion to finally getting another win.  

A smile broke onto your face as you heard the Dutch national anthem for the first time in months. It was hard to believe that a short year ago you were wishing to never hear it again, even if it was for your own country. But there you stood in the crowd, quietly singing along. 

During the anthem, Max’s eyes scanned the crowd, searching for something. When his gaze met yours, hidden in the shadows of the celebrations, he relaxed. The smile that was already plastered on his face grew a tad wider as you waved. Nothing flashy, nothing too overt, just a brief shared moment that only the two of you would truly understand. 

While Red Bull wasn’t your team, Max sure as hell was your driver. 

======

You were thankful that Max’s plane had taken off in the late morning the next day. As much as you loved getting back home sooner rather than later, the rest was well deserved after a late night of celebrations. 

The two of you sat next to each other, the hum of the engines filling the quiet space between you. You were both exhausted, but the thought of Max now within a race reach of winning the championship planted in your minds, neither of you could rest.

A piece of paper that had every angle of a blank helmet printed on it sat in front of Max while you had your laptop out on a 3D editing software. Both of you were running through ideas for his champion helmet. Max had a gold colored pencil in his hand coloring away on the paper while the occasional click of your keyboard brought his visions to life. 

“I think it’s missing something,” he said, glancing at the rendering on your screen. “Like it looks good as is, but I think it could be better.” 

You glanced at Max, seeing the way he was biting his lip as he stared at the paper in front of him, deep in thought. The gold pencil in his hand was worn down from the hours he’d spent perfecting every detail, but it was clear he wasn’t satisfied. 

“I agree” you said, zooming in on the 3D model. The white and the gold looked good together, but they lacked that extra spark that would tie it all together. 

“What if we added some sparkles to the gold?” He suggested, his eyes wide with curiosity to see what that would look like. 

With a few clicks of your keyboard and taps on the screen, you added a glitter effect to the gold in the helmet. 

Max’s eyes lit up. “Whoa. That’s sick.” 

You stared at the screen, happy with the improvement that was made, but you felt like you could do even better. “What if we added something to the white?” you suggested as you clicked away a bit more. “I can completely undo this if you decide you don’t like it.” 

You watched Max’s reaction closely as you filled some of the white areas with gold marble on the 3D rendering. The effect was subtle but impactful, adding a depth and shine that made the design feel even more dynamic. 

Max’s eyebrows raised slightly, clearly impressed. “That… that’s actually perfect,” he said, almost in disbelief. 

“I’m glad you like it.” you said, brushing your fingers over the touchpad, making small adjustments to the way the gold marbling flowed. “It needed something to balance out the glitter, and I think it brings everything together.” 

“It definitely does.” he said before going quiet again, his head tilted slightly as if he was deep in thought. “Would you wanna design my champion logo?” 

You looked up from the laptop, surprised by his question. “The championship logo?” you repeated, unsure you heard him correctly. 

Max nodded, his fingers tapping lightly on the paper, his eyes distant as he thought it over. “Yeah, you know how I’ve had a logo for every championship I’ve won. I want you to design this years. Something that symbolizes the achievement.” 

You blinked a few times, processing his request. The idea of designing something so symbolic for Max was exciting, but also incredibly intimidating. The pressure was higher than with the helmet design - it wasn’t just a visual statement for the race; it was a symbol of part of his career, his hard work, his journey through the season. 

Max could see the hesitation in our face. He raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk creeping onto his lips as he gently nudged you. “What? You’re not up for the challenge?” 

You shook your head quickly, the excitement already bubbling up inside of you. “No, no. I’m up for it. It’s just a big task. Haven’t done something like that since the Monza livery my first year.” 

“And that livery is why I think you’ll be perfect for it.” he said, his arm wrapped around you, pulling you into him as best as he could in the plane seat.  

You felt your heart race at his words. The Monza livery was a piece you had poured your heart and soul into when you first started with Ferrari, and Max was with you through every step of designing it and bringing it to life. For him to reference it years later made you feel both proud and incredibly humbled. Creating something big for him felt like a huge honor. 

“I mean… if you insist…” you began, a smile growing rapidly on your face before planting a kiss on his cheek. “I’ll start as soon as we get home.” 

Las Vegas, USA

Going into Vegas, you didn’t know what to expect. The flashing lights, magic tricks, and way too many celebrities for you to keep track of were guarantees, but other than that, you were clueless. 

It was the newest track on the calendar, only being the second time in recent history that the World Championship made a stop in Sin City. The entire team was excited as they arrived, but with the Driver’s Championship on the line, you may have been the most. 

Thankfully, to help keep with the facade of nothing going on between you and Max, both of you had to report to the paddock at different times. As much as the two of you had gotten used to the secrecy, it didn’t make it any less frustrating. You were constantly aware of the eyes on you, knowing that anything that you did - any small gesture - could be taken as evidence of a relationship. The last thing either of you wanted was the added pressure of public speculation. 

You were in one of the Ferrari media rooms by yourself, getting your gear together in between the free practices. The hum of conversation from the paddock filtered in through the door, but inside, it was quiet. You took a deep breath, trying to focus on the fact that your laptop wasn’t recognizing your SD card for some reason. 

A frustrated sigh escaped your lips as you tapped the sides of your laptop as if willing it to work. The noise from the paddock was growing louder as other team members filtered in and out, but here you were, stuck trying to troubleshoot a technical issue that you really didn’t have time for. 

You plugged the SD card into another slot, hoping it might just be a bad connection, but nothing happened. You were about to try one more thing when you heard a knock on the door frame. 

“I’ll be right out. I’m dealing with some tech stuff.” you said not even bothering to see who it was. You assumed that it was Annalese needing you for a media meeting. 

You heard the soft chuckle before the voice responded, and it wasn’t Annalese. 

“Tech issues, huh?” The voice was familiar, low, and warm. Your heart skipped a beat as you glanced up, immediately meeting Max’s eyes, the playful glint in his gaze sending a mix of emotions through you. 

“Max!” you said, a little too loudly for your own liking. You rushed him into the room before closing the door behind him, hoping no one saw him in the doorway. Your lips met his briefly, and as you pulled away you asked “What are you doing here?” 

Max shrugged “Thought I’d pay you a visit in between meetings. It’s always nice to see you” he said nonchalantly which confused you even more. 

“Great seeing you too, but how did you even get in here?” you asked knowing the only way into the media areas was with a proper credential. 

Your boyfriend motioned back to the door that had just closed behind him. “Annalese let me in. She’s pretty easy to convince.” 

“You know what? I’m not even surprised” you said, throwing your hands up in defeat. “I have bigger problems to worry about right now.” 

Max gave you a teasing smile, clearly enjoying your flustered state, but there was a tenderness behind his eyes that made you feel a little more at ease. He stepped further into the room, glancing over at your laptop with a raised eyebrow. “Need help?” he asked, his voice warm and easy, as if you weren’t in the middle of a stressful race weekend. 

You huffed, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on you. “I mean if you can get my SD card to register, be my guest. I might just text Isabella and see if she has a second one I can borrow until I can go get a new one.” 

Max took a seat in front of your laptop, and got to work. You watched him for a moment as he tapped a few of the keys, along with unplugged and replugged the SD card in. His eyebrows furrowed as he looked at the screen, before unplugging the SD card and plugging it into a different port. 

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his confusion. “You’re doing literally everything I’ve done.”

“I’m sorry, schat.” he said, frowning as he looked at you. 

You shrugged, clearly over the entire situation. “It’s fine. I’ll just text Isabella and ask her.” 

Fortunately, she did have one and quickly agreed to bring you a spare SD card. Within minutes, you heard her voice on the other side of the door, followed by one belonging to a man. 

You and Max exchanged looks as you guys heard the voice. It was familiar, but you couldn’t quite place where. As the door knob turned, all you could hope was that it was someone who wouldn’t get Max in trouble for being where he shouldn’t. 

Isabella walked in first, a fresh SD card in her hand, and a slight smile on her face. “Hey, I come bearing gifts” she said, but as she took in the fact you weren’t alone in the room, she stiffened. “Uh hey, Max.” 

While the history between Max and Isabella was no secret to anyone, you knew that Isabella had gotten past it. Her sudden change in demeanor was surprising. Isabella glanced at something in the hallway before landing back on you and Max. 

She walked further into the room, to give you the SD card, but the door behind her didn’t close. You glanced over Isabella’s shoulder, heart skipping a beat as you saw who was now standing in the doorway. 

Logan Sargeant. 

His lips formed an awkward smile as he took in the sight of both you and Max. “Hey, guys.”

“Logan, hi.” you began, your voice filled with confusion. “What are you doing here?” 

Logan’s eyes darted to Isabella, who was still standing between you and him. “She invited me, just as a friend. I missed the paddock and figured I’d come say hi.” 

You couldn’t quite hide the tension that crept into the room, as Logan’s casual tone didn’t quite match the undercurrent of unease you could feel simmering. Max knew the two of you had been catching up, that it was all just friendly, but neither of you were expecting him to show up to another Grand Prix. 

“It’s good to see you.” You said before gesturing to Max. “And you know my boyfriend, Max,” 

Logan’s eyebrows raised at you calling Max yours, but he didn’t say anything on the matter. Instead, he offered a wave and a polite “Hey” 

Max straightened up, his posture tightening, but he quickly masked it with a calm smile. “Nice to see you, Logan,” he said, his voice steady, but you could tell he was more aware of the situation than ever. 

Logan gave a small, awkward nod, his eyes flicking between you and Max. There was a brief pause in the room as the three of you gauged what to do next. 

“Yeah, it’s good to see you both,” Logan said again, his words almost too quick, as if he was trying to fill the silence that had lingered for a little too long.

“Well, I still have some stuff to do.” Isabella said, turning towards Logan, “Shall we?” 

With a quiet goodbye, the duo walked out of the room, leaving you and Max alone. As the door closed, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. 

“I was not expecting that.” you said, turning toward your boyfriend.

Max let out a low chuckle, though there was a hint of tension behind it. “Yeah, me neither.” He said, leaning back against the table before his voice softened. “But you introduced me as your boyfriend.” 

You froze for a moment, realizing the weight of the words you’d just said. It hadn’t even occurred to you until now how significant that simple introduction was. It was the first time you’d referred to Max that was in front of someone outside of your tight circle. 

“Yeah,” you said, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I guess I did.” 

Max’s gaze softened, and for a moment, the tension from Logan’s unexpected visit seemed to vanish. He got up from the chair and walked over to you. “You know, that felt pretty good.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you met his eyes. “It did.” you agreed quietly.

Max pressed his lips against yours, soft and sweet. When you both pulled away, he glanced towards the door. “Now I think it’s time we both get back to work.” 

“Yeah, I have a guest to entertain, I guess” you laughed as you packed up your stuff before sneaking Max out of the Ferrari building. 

As soon as Max was out of your sight, you darted towards the Ferrari garage. Not only did you have a load of content to get that you were missing due to the technical error, but you needed to apologize to a certain American.

You’d spent enough time in the paddock to know that the drivers, especially Max, could be drama queens. The awkwardness you’d felt when Logan had walked into the room was fresh, and you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt. You didn’t want him to think that something he’d done had crossed a line - it was Max being protective. You and Logan had finally gotten back on the right page, and even though things had been a bit complicated in the past, you didn’t want him feeling uncomfortable during his visit.

You made your way down the long hallway, eventually being surrounded by the hum of activity. Mechanics and engineers were busy attending to both cars, but your focus was on finding Logan. You caught sight of him in the corner, talking with one of the engineers, but as soon as he saw you approaching, he turned his attention to you.

“Hey,” you greeted him, a little hesitant. “Can we talk?” 

Logan nodded immediately, noticing the sincerity in your voice. “Yeah, sure.” 

You motioned for him to follow you back down the hall that you just came from, away from the main hustle and bustle. When you were far enough away to have some privacy, you finally let out a breath. 

“Look, I just wanted to apologize for earlier” you said, meeting his gaze. “I didn’t know you’d be here this weekend, and seeing you and Max in the same room really caught me off guard. I didn’t mean to make things weird.” 

Logan blinked a few times, clearly surprised by your directness. After a beat, he gave a small nod. “It’s alright, I mean it was unexpected, sure, but it’s no big deal.” he offered a reassuring smile. 

While you wanted to let out a sigh of relief, you could feel the weight of your apology still hanging in the air, and you wanted to make sure he understood how much you valued your friendship. 

“I didn’t want you to think that something you did or said made me uncomfortable.” you continued, your voice softer now. “It’s really just Max being protective. He’s not exactly the most laid-back guy when it comes to things like this.”

Logan gave a small chuckle, his expression easing. “Yeah, I know. He’s got that look about him. But I’m glad you two found each other again, you seem genuinely happy.” 

You smiled softly, feeling a warm sense of gratitude for Logan’s words. It was clear he wasn’t holding onto any hard feelings, and it meant a lot that he understood the situation.

“Thanks, Logan,” you said, appreciating his kindness, “I will admit though, I have been missing you around the paddock, so this was a nice surprise.”

It was Logan’s turn for his expression to soften as a genuine smile creeped on his face. “I’ve missed it too.” he said, his tone warm. “The paddock, the people… it’s always been a part of who I am, you know?” He paused for a moment before the smile turned into a smirk. “But I will say you guys get spoiled over here in Ferrari. I need to visit more often.” 

You couldn’t help but chuckle as the last bit of tension slipped away. The journey hadn’t been easy for either of you, but hearing him speak so honestly put your mind at ease. 

“You’re welcome to come anytime.” you said “I always get a spare pass that I don’t end up giving away half the time.” 

Logan grinned, his eyes lighting up at the offer. “I might just take you up on that.” he said, his voice playful. “It’s nice that everything’s good between us again. I didn’t want to make anything weird.”

“No, me neither,” you agreed, giving him a reassuring smile. “We’ve got enough drama around here already”

He chuckled “Yeah, no kidding. Especially when it comes to Max.” 

At that point, you both laughed, the mood finally officially lightened. The tension that had been there earlier had dissipated entirely, replaced by the familiarity and ease you’d shared with Logan before things got complicated. It felt like you were back to where you had been. 

“Alright, let’s get you back to the garage before everyone starts speculating that you ran to Williams to get your job back.” you said, glancing back down the hall towards the noise of the machines. 

“Oh please, like I’d ever go back there” 

======

When you weren’t busy cracking jokes with the Ferrari guests or convincing Max that Logan really isn’t as bad of a guy as he thought, you were actually doing your job. Between capturing behind-the-scenes moments, interviewing engineers, and snapping shots of the cars during their time on the track, your weekend was filled with a constant stream of action. 

Since you were in Vegas, both you and Isabella opted to take a gamble and switch drivers for the weekend, meaning you were predominantly covering Carlos. 

As much as you loved following Charles around, the change of not having to hear him whine about how much he missed his dog was refreshing. You adored Charles, as well as the endless stories about Leo, but a change of pace was always nice. It was also nice to work with Carlos one last time, leaving for Williams at the end of the season. 

But what didn’t change was the nerves that surged through you as you took your spot in one of the media pens along the track. You had positioned yourself perfectly between the fences, the practice photos that you took during the formation lap had looked perfect. All that was left was for the lights to go out. 

The roar of engines echoed in the air, vibrating through your body as the lights slowly began to fill red. One by one, they blinked on, and the air around you thickened with anticipation. The final light flickered, and then, - off. 

You were already snapping photos as the cars shot off the line. Each frame clicked into place as you captured the story unfolding right in front of you. 

Even though you had done this week in and week out, your nerves couldn’t help but spike this time around. It wasn’t your first time working with Max behind the wheel since you made it official, but it was the first time this season he could clinch the championship. 

You caught sight of his Red Bull, its blue and red livery standing out against the glint of Las Vegas lights, weaving through the pack. Though you were focused on Carlos’ red Ferrari, you couldn’t help but to snap a few photos of Max as he whizzed by. 

The tension that had settled in your chest slowly started to ease as the race progressed, the rhythm of your work taking over. It was almost as if your camera became an extension of you - each snap, each click pulling you deeper into the action. It also helped that Max was ahead of Lando. 

As the laps ticked down to the single digits, you found yourself once again pressed along the fence that separated the track and pit lane. Carlos was about to cross the line in third, securing another solid finish for Ferrari, but your focus was split between that and Max, who was positioned perfectly in fifth. 

The weight of the moment settled in, along with the pride that came rushing to your chest. You clicked a few photos of Carlos as he crossed the finish line, gathering the energy of the team that squished into the fence beside you. 

But just one garage over, the air was thick with excitement, anticipation, and pride. Max had done it again. 

The Ferrari team members, along with those in Red Bull and Mercedes, sprinted down the pit lane to parc ferme. You weasled your way to the front of it all, snapping photos as Carlos got out of the car and celebrated with the team. 

Your attention quickly turned to Max as he parked next to the red Ferrari. You could feel the adrenaline of the moment vibrate through your body as the crowd roared in celebration, your fingers still hovering over the shutter button, ready to capture every second of what would undoubtedly be another iconic moment in Max’s career. 

As Max stepped onto the car, the energy from his team surged forward. You snapped a few quick photos of him, the expression of triumph evident in his eyes as he raised four fingers in celebration. 

You had to force yourself to tear your attention away from him and back to Carlos. After he celebrated with the team, you snapped a few photos of him as he stuck a fist in the air. You followed Carlos as he congratulated George and Lewis on the Mercedes 1-2, before he found Max amidst the chaos. 

Between the photos that you had taken of him on the car and now, Max had taken off his helmet and balaclava, and for the first time since the end of the race, you could see the smile that beamed on his face. The shutter of your camera was barely heard as you captured the moment between the two drivers. 

You were going to follow Carlos as he was ushered to the cooldown car, but before you could, you felt an arm wrap around your waist. You froze for a second, heart pounding in your chest as the familiar scent of Max’s cologne mixed with the stench of sweat washed over you. The arm around your waist was tight enough to give a protective presence, but loose enough to not hurt you. 

You turned, meeting his eyes - those deep blue-green, focused eyes that always seemed to hold a world of thoughts in them. But tonight, they were something else, something lighter. A look that said he was ready to celebrate. 

“Congrats champ” you said as you looked up at him. 

Max’s lips curved into a smile as he looked down at you, his hand still resting around your waist. There was a certain softness to his gaze now, a quiet joy that radiated through him, despite the whirlwind of celebration around him. 

“Thanks” he said, his voice a mix of pride and something softer, almost vulnerable. “It feels good, you know?” His thumb lightly brushed against your side as you spoke, an unconscious gesture that felt intimate amidst the chaos. 

You couldn’t help but smile back, feeling the heat of the moment settle between the two of you. “You earned it.” you said. The sound of a car horn filled the air, tearing your attention away from him. In the middle of the track were a handful of Rolls Royce’s. 

“I think that’s our cue. I have some interviews to catch” you said as your attention settled back on your boyfriend. “Go celebrate with the team.” 

“Meet me in my driver’s room once we’re both done.” Max said 

You nodded, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “You got it, champ.”

Before you could slip away towards the chaos, Max pulled you in closer. You could feel the heat from his body as he leaned down to press his lips softly against yours, the world around you fading into nothing but a blur for a moment. It was quick, but it carried so much more weight than any words could ever have. 

As you both pulled away, you could feel the warmth spread to your cheeks. “So much for keeping it hidden.” you teased 

Max shrugged, a playful smile on his lips now. “You’re just too good to hide.” 

======

The interviews and the podium ceremony went as slow as molasses in January. As proud of Carlos as you were, you wanted to get the formal celebrations all wrapped up so you could pack up and make your way to the garage next door. 

The spray of champagne and confetti filled the air, and the podium continued to sparkle under the floodlights. Carlos waved to the crowd, his focus on the fans, but you couldn’t help but to feel the pull towards the Red Bull garage. You quickly snapped a few more photos of the celebration, but your heart wasn’t in it. 

The second the ceremony ended and the crowd began to disperse, you bolted from your spot, making your way quickly towards the Ferrari garage. Through the walls you could hear the celebrations already going on next door, but you had one last task to complete before you could join in the celebrations yourself. 

You found a relatively quiet corner of the garage to open your laptop and load a handful of photos into Lightroom. Not everything needed to be looked over and edited tonight - that was a flight home problem - but you knew you needed something to send some of the social media interns to post for race results and podium content. 

After slapping on the presets you’ve used all season, you emailed the photos to the interns and slammed your laptop shut. The Ferrari garage was still alive with a sense of pride, but your heart was no longer tethered to it for the day. You needed to be next door, with Max. 

With a quick stop in the motorhome, you changed into something a bit more comfortable - jeans and a crop top before you pushed through the corridor to the main garage. You weaved between team members and engineers who were still making their rounds, tying up loose ends after a race. 

Cold was never a word you thought you’d describe a city in the desert, but as soon as you left the red garage, a shiver was sent down your spine. Fortunately, before you could even think about how to bundle up, you heard your name.

“Y/n!” a voice called.

You turned towards the direction of the Red Bull garage, and sure enough, Meg and Jess - Red Bull’s photographers - were waving you over. You ran over, letting the both of them engulf you in a hug. 

“Congrats guys!” you said as you pulled away 

They both echoed back a “thank you” before matching smirks formed on their faces. 

“So you and Max?” Jess asked 

“Why didn’t you tell us it finally happened?” Meg added 

You could feel your cheeks grow warm as you shrugged. “Just didn’t think it was the right time” 

Meg rolled her eyes at your comment “Oh, and kissing in front of three hundred thousand people was?”

“Whatever” you mumbled 

“If you’re looking for Max though, he’s in his driver’s room. Guessing he needed a moment to breathe” Jess said before giving you directions to said room. 

You made your way through the corridors of the navy blue Red Bull garage, your steps quickening as you neared Max’s driver’s room. The noise of the celebrations felt distant, the hum of excitement muted behind the thick walls. As you approached the door Jess had pointed you to, you paused for a moment, steadying yourself. It was crazy how much had changed in just a few months, but here you were, walking toward the man who not only had been your childhood enemy, but also had become a significant part of your life in ways you hadn’t imagined. 

With a quick breath, you knocked lightly on the door. Max’s voice quickly followed, “come in!” 

Inside, the room was dimly lit with just a few lights scattered around. The clutter of post-race items - the helmet and gloves - were discarded in the corner, his race suit still hanging loosely from his waist. A navy blue shirt covered the white fireproofs he still had on, the word “M4X” written in graffiti plastered on the front. You couldn’t help but smile as you took in the design - your design - that was now a symbol of an iconic season. 

“I’m looking for a four time world champion. Have you seen one around?” you asked playfully as you leaned up against the doorframe.

Max looked up from where he was sorting through his things, his lips curling into the same grin he always got when he caught sight of you. His eyes brightened, and for a moment, it was as if the chaos of the day melted away. 

“Four-time world champion, huh?” he teased, his voice light and filled with pride. ��I think I’ve seen one around here, but I’m not sure they’re as impressive as their shirt.” He gestured to the M4X logo on his shirt, the design standing out proudly against the dim lighting of the room. 

You couldn’t help but laugh, feeling the warmth of the moment settle in. “Maybe it’s the shirt that makes the champion.” you quipped, pushing off from the doorframe and stepping into the room.

Max chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sure it’s all your doing.” His voice softened slightly, his gaze lingering on you, almost as if taking a moment to let everything sink in. 

“You’ve earned it Max.” you said, your words sincere, no teasing this time. The pride you felt for him, and all he’d accomplished, was clear in your voice. “Every single one of them. And I’ve been so fortunate to watch you win at least three.” 

Max stepped closer, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he reached out to gently pull you into a hug. His arms wrapped around you, and everything outside of that room vanished. He rested his chin on your shoulder, a relaxed sigh escaping him. “Couldn’t have done it without you,” he murmured, his voice hushed, vulnerable in a way you hadn’t expected. 

You felt your heart race, his words hitting you deeper than you had anticipated. “It’s been a hell of a ride,” you replied softly, your fingers lightly tracing his shirt where the M4X logo was. 

“I did get you a shirt, don’t you worry” he teased as he registered your actions.

A laugh escaped your mouth as you shook your head, “I sure hope you would.”

Without saying another word, Max leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was filled with both the joy of the moment and the promise of everything to come. It was slow, deliberate, and full of emotion. When he pulled back, you both lingered there for a moment, letting the world outside stay on hold for just a little bit longer. 

“You’ve been a huge part of this, you know?” Max said, his voice low and steady, his breath warm against your skin

“I know” you replied with a small smile, looking up at him. “But so have you. I’m so incredibly proud of you, Max. More than you know. Though I haven’t seen it all over the past four years, I know you’ve sacrificed a lot.”

Max gave a soft chuckle, his grip tightening around you. “You make it sound like I’ve done something extraordinary.” 

“You have” you said, admiration and affection filling your gaze. “And don’t you dare sell yourself short.” 

His gaze softened again, and he pressed his lips to your forehead, a brief but tender kiss. The silence that followed was comfortable, filled with a quiet understanding between the two of you. The weight of the day still hung in the air, but there was a sense of calm that made everything feel right. 

“So…” you said after a beat, breaking the silence with a playful tone. “How about we go and celebrate? We’re in Las Vegas afterall.” 

Max pulled back slightly, a teasing grin on his face. “I thought you’d never ask.” 

The Dutchman quickly showered and changed into more casual clothes - his iconic black shirt and jeans. You couldn’t help but smile as you took him in, feeling your heart flutter in the process. 

As he collected his things to head out, he turned to you, his head tilted slightly in curiosity. “Do you think Logan and Isabella would want to join?” 

At first you were caught off guard by the question, the two people he named you thought surely wouldn’t be invited to the celebrations. But it was Max afterall, and no matter how many years you’d known him, he’d keep you on your toes. 

You shrugged, glancing at his phone on the table. “I don’t know, why don’t you ask them yourself?” 

Max raised an eyebrow at your suggestion, but didn’t hesitate as he grabbed his phone from the resting spot. “Fair enough.” 

His head was down as he reached for his wallet and began to walk out of his room, so he didn’t notice something fall from one of the pockets. You, on the other hand, noticed the small, folded up piece of paper hit the ground. As Max was halfway out the door, you grabbed it, unfolding it. 

As you unfolded the paper, you could see a photo of a young boy, throwing his arms up in celebration. He was standing in front of a kart - his kart. Your heart skipped a beat as your eyes traced the photo. The edges were faded, but you knew the kid standing in the middle. You knew that photo was only taken on your little red point and shoot camera.

“Y/n? You coming?” Max called from down the hallway, his tone casual, but you could hear the faint urgency in his voice. 

You hesitated, the photo still in your hand, and glanced at Max. His attention was now back to being focused on you, his eyes soft. 

“You put the photo back in your wallet?” you asked, turning the image of the boy so Max could see his younger self. 

Max’s eyes widened for a second as he realized what you were holding. His calm expression faltered just slightly, replaced by a hint of surprise, before breaking into a soft smile.

“Who said I ever took it out?” 

=============================

tagged: @mixedstyles @steamy-smokey @skbidi-izze @sinfully-yoursss @158cmx @freyathehuntress

[coco-loco-nut]

literally in indianapolis rn, should’ve brought my resume with me 🥲

worst part is i won’t have time to visit the speedway

[coco-loco-nut]

my proposed solution to the george russell / max verstappen feud

[coco-loco-nut]

as a kelly hater, today has been incredibly hard for me 😔