#2015 toro rosso rookies
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notyourmusebby · 1 year ago
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Helmut Marko: “the atmosphere was quite toxic”
The atmosphere:
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janesurlife · 6 months ago
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Best rookie pair
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harrysfolklore · 29 days ago
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but daddy i love him, part one - mv1
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summary: in the world of formula 1, where competition runs deep and loyalties are tested, yn wolff and max verstappen found themselves caught in the middle . as the daughter of mercedes team principal and the rising red bull star, they must navigate the balance between rivalries and love. wc: 17k
folkie radio: HERE. IT. IS. FINALLY !!!!!!!! as i've stated before i'm absolutely terrified of posting this, this is my longest fic ever and different from what i've done before. i know it's a long read but i'm really proud of it and i think it's worth it. IN THIS FIC MORE THAN ANY OTHER. I ENCOURAGE YOU TO LEAVE FEEDBACK.
DISCLAIMER: as stated in the title THIS IS PART ONE!!! part two is ready in my drafts and will be posted shortly (in a week tops). i'll stop talking now. BUCKLE UP AND ENJOY (and please leave feedback okay)
Melbourne, 2015
The hotel lobby is quiet at this hour - that strange liminal space between late night and early morning when most reasonable people are asleep. But you've never been great at reasonable, and jet lag has your body clock completely scrambled.
That's how you end up in the hotel's deserted coffee shop at 1 AM, nursing a hot chocolate and trying to calm your nerves about tomorrow.
You're so lost in thought you don't notice someone else enter until they speak.
"They're still open?"
You look up and your heart skips. Of course you recognize him immediately - Max Verstappen, the 17-year-old prodigy your father hasn't stopped talking about for months. "The next big thing," Papa had said, watching testing footage. "He's going to shake up the whole paddock, just watch."
"Sort of," you gesture to your drink, trying to keep your voice casual. "The barista took pity on me. Said she'd make one last drink before closing."
He glances at the now-dark counter and sighs. Up close, he looks even younger than in the photos you've seen, but there's something in his eyes - a fierce determination that makes you understand why everyone's been talking about him.
"Here," you push your barely-touched hot chocolate towards him. "I'm not really drinking it anyway."
He hesitates. "You sure?"
"Yeah. Probably shouldn't have caffeine at this hour anyway."
He sits across from you, taking a careful sip. "Thanks. I'm Max."
I know, you think. Everyone knows. The youngest F1 driver in history, Jos Verstappen's son, the rookie everyone's watching.
"You're not from around here," you note his accent, playing along with the pretense that you don't know exactly who he is.
"Neither are you," he grins, and something warm flutters in your stomach. His smile transforms his whole face, makes him look his age.
"Fair point. Here for the Grand Prix?"
"You could say that." He studies you, and you wonder if he can hear your heart racing. "You?"
"Something like that." You're enjoying this little game more than you probably should.
"Cryptic."
You laugh. "Says the equally cryptic stranger."
"Okay, okay." He takes another sip. "I'm one of the new drivers. Toro Rosso."
You try to hide your smile. You've watched every clip of his testing sessions, heard every conversation your father has had about his potential. "Ah. The youngest F1 driver in history. That must be a lot of pressure."
He shrugs, but you can see the tension in his shoulders, the weight of expectations already heavy on him. You know that weight - you've carried your own version of it your whole life.
"Everyone keeps saying that."
"Scared?"
"No," he answers too quickly, then sighs. "Maybe a little. You won't tell anyone I said that, right?"
There's something vulnerable in his admission that makes your heart ache. Behind all the hype and headlines, he's just a boy on the verge of something enormous.
"Your secret's safe with me." You lean back. "For what it's worth, I think you'll do great."
"You sound pretty confident for someone who just met me."
If only he knew how many hours you'd spent watching his karting videos. How many times you'd heard your father say "That Verstappen boy is going to change everything."
"Let's call it intuition."
He laughs - a genuine, unguarded sound that makes your pulse quicken. "You're different."
"Different good or different bad?"
"Just… different." He finishes the hot chocolate. "Most people, when they find out who I am, they either get weird about it or start asking about Jos."
"Your father?"
He nods, and you see a flicker of something in his eyes - the same shadow you sometimes get when people mention Toto.
"Well, I know a thing or two about father-related pressure, so…"
"Yeah?" He looks interested. "What does your father do?"
You check your watch, knowing it's time to end this little charade. "Oh wow, is that the time? I should probably head up."
"Wait," he stands as you do. "I didn't catch your name."
You pause at the door, turning back with a small smile, savoring what you know will be his reaction. "I'm YN Wolff."
His eyes widen. "Wolff? As in…"
"See you in the paddock, Max Verstappen."
You leave him standing there, but not before catching his surprised laugh. Your heart is racing as you walk away - from the deception, from his smile, from the way his eyes had lit up when he laughed.
The next morning, you spot him in the paddock. He does a double-take when he sees you with the Mercedes team, then grins and shakes his head. You're wearing your team kit now, no more pretending to be just another girl in a hotel coffee shop.
"Cryptic stranger," he mouths at you as he passes.
You just smile, trying to ignore how your stomach flips when he winks at you.
Neither of you could have known then - in that quiet hotel coffee shop at 1 AM - that this was the beginning of something that would change your lives.
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Singapore, 2015
The paddock is eerily quiet now, the usual chaos of race day reduced to a whisper of distant maintenance and soft lighting. You're sitting on one of the team benches, the night air cool against your skin. Max is close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from him, close enough that the line between friendship and something more feels increasingly blurred.
It wasn't a sudden thing, this connection with Max. It had been a slow burn, a gradual unraveling that began that night in the hotel coffee shop and grew through stolen moments between races, brief conversations in crowded paddocks, and late-night messages that became increasingly frequent.
At first, it was simple curiosity. You'd catch each other's eye across the paddock, exchange a knowing smile. Then came the texts - random observations about races, inside jokes about team dynamics, comments that walked the line between friendly and flirtatious. Max had a way of making you laugh like no one else could, his wit sharp and unexpected.
He nudges you playfully. "So, daughter of the most powerful team principal in Formula 1. Must be interesting."
You roll your eyes, but there's a smile tugging at your lips. "Not as glamorous as you might think."
"Oh?" He raises an eyebrow. "Try me."
You pause, considering. The weight of your father's reputation is something you've carried your entire life - a constant backdrop to every interaction, every moment.
"Imagine," you say slowly, "having every conversation potentially recorded, every interaction analyzed. One wrong move and it's not just about you, but about your family's reputation."
Max's expression shifts. There's understanding there - he knows something about familial expectations, about the pressure of carrying a name.
"My father," he says quietly, "Jos Verstappen. Not exactly a walk in the park."
The vulnerability in his voice catches you off guard. These moments have become more frequent - brief windows where the polished racing personas fall away, revealing something raw and real.
"Tell me," you prompt softly.
He takes a deep breath. "Constant pressure. Every race, every test, every moment - it's like I'm living not just for myself, but for some expectation he's created. Sound familiar?"
You laugh, but it's a sound tinged with something harder. Sadness. Recognition. "Absolutely."
Your conversations have been like this lately - layers peeling back, revealing something raw and real beneath the polished exterior of Formula 1.
"Sometimes," Max continues, "I wonder if I'm racing for myself or for the legacy everyone else wants me to create."
Before you can respond, a voice cuts through the night. "Little Wolff?"
Lewis approaches, his team kit still impeccable despite the late hour. His eyes narrow when he sees Max, taking in your proximity.
Lewis had been a constant in your life long before Max entered the picture. Since joining Mercedes, he'd taken on a role that was part mentor, part protective older brother. It wasn't an official designation, but in the Mercedes family, it might as well have been law.
Lewis knew everything about you - your hopes, your fears and everything in between. He was more than just your father's driver. He was family.
"Oh," Lewis says, a mix of surprise and something else - protection, wariness. "Verstappen."
Max stands immediately. "I was just leaving," he says quickly, a touch of nervousness breaking through his usual confidence. "See you around."
As Max walks away, Lewis turns to you, his protective big brother persona fully activated. "What," he says slowly, "was that about?"
You start walking together, the paddock lights casting long shadows. Lewis' stride is purposeful, matching yours.
"Nothing," you say, but the word sounds unconvincing even to your own ears, "He's my friend."
"Friend," he says, uncertainty in his voice, "Just be careful, okay? Things are never that simple in this paddock" he'd said, and you knew he meant more than just about Max.
You said nothing. But you heard him. You always did.
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Barcelona, 2016
The champagne sparkles in the late afternoon sun as you watch from a secluded corner of the paddock. You smile as you watch Max on that podium - the youngest winner in Formula 1 history. Your smile is wide, uncontrolled, and you're grateful for the relative privacy of your spot. If anyone noticed that your eyes never left Max, that your smile was meant only for him, they didn't say.
You remember the first time you saw him race, really race - not just in videos or testing. The raw talent, the fearlessness that made your breath catch. Over the past year, you'd watched him grow from that confident teenager in the Melbourne coffee shop into someone who commanded respect on track. And somewhere along the way, between stolen moments in the paddock and late-night conversations, he'd become so much more than just another driver.
The past year had been a dance of almost-moments and careful distances. Shared glances across crowded rooms, text messages that made you smile at 3 AM, touches that lingered just a second too long. You'd both known the complications, the impossibility of it all - the Mercedes team principal's daughter and Red Bull's rising star. It was like a modern Romeo and Juliet, except instead of warring families, it was competing Formula 1 teams.
Later that evening, you stand in your father's office doorway, heart hammering but determined. Toto is absorbed in post-race papers, reading glasses perched on his nose, looking every bit the formidable team principal even hours after the race.
"Papa?"
He looks up, his expression softening slightly at the sight of you. "Yes, Schatz?"
"I'm going out," you say, trying to keep your voice casual while mentally rehearsing your prepared explanation.
Toto's eyebrows rise slightly. "Out?"
"With some friends," you elaborate, grateful for years of practice at maintaining your composure under his scrutiny. "To celebrate the race."
He sets his papers down, removing his glasses. "Friends from the team?"
Your heart skips. "Just… friends from the paddock," you say carefully. "Daniel invited me."
"Ricciardo?" His tone sharpens slightly.
"He's always been nice to me," you reason, which isn't a lie. Daniel has been a friend since his early days, always treating you like a friend rather than just the boss' daughter.
Toto studies you for a long moment, and you force yourself to meet his gaze steadily, even as your pulse races. You've always been close to your father - he's been your hero, your guide, your biggest supporter. The weight of potentially disappointing him sits heavy in your chest.
"Be careful," he finally says, though his tone suggests he's not entirely convinced. "You know how complicated things can be in this world."
"I know, Papa," you say softly. "I'll be careful. Promise."
Getting into the Red Bull celebration is easier than expected, thanks to Daniel's help. He meets you at a side entrance, his trademark grin wider than usual.
"Looking good, Wolff," he winks, pulling you into a quick hug. "Though I'm pretty sure your dad would kill me if he knew I was helping you sneak in."
"What he doesn't know won't hurt him," you say, trying to ignore the guilt that accompanies the words.
"Just…" Daniel's expression turns serious for a moment. "Be careful, yeah? With Max. He's my teammate and you're like my sister, and I don't want either of you getting hurt."
You're saved from responding by the noise of the party as he leads you inside. The atmosphere is electric - the joy of Max's first win filling the air along with music and laughter.
When Max spots you, his eyes widen, champagne glass freezing halfway to his lips. The surprise on his face quickly melts into something softer, more private. He excuses himself from his group and makes his way over, that familiar smirk playing on his lips - the one that never fails to make your heart skip.
"Should I be worried about Mercedes spies in our midst?" he teases, but his eyes are soft, drinking you in.
"You know me," you counter, matching his playful tone while trying to ignore how good he looks in his race winner's shirt, "I live for trouble."
"That you do, Wolff." He steps closer, just slightly, but enough to make your breath catch. "I didn't think you'd come."
"And miss your first win celebration? Never." You mean it to sound light, teasing, but your voice comes out softer, more sincere than intended.
"Still can't believe it," he says, shaking his head with a boyish grin that makes him look his age for once. "My first win."
"I can," you reply, taking a sip of champagne. "I've seen how you drive. It was only a matter of time."
He looks at you with an intensity that makes your heart stutter. "You've been watching me drive, then?"
"Someone has to keep an eye on the competition," you tease, but you can feel the heat rising in your cheeks.
"Is that what I am? Competition?" He moves closer, and suddenly the music seems far away.
"Among other things." Your voice comes out breathier than intended.
The conversation flows easily between you, as it always has. You talk about the race, about his incredible overtakes, about the moment he realized he was going to win. His eyes light up when he describes the feeling of crossing the finish line, and you find yourself caught between admiring his passion and getting lost in the way his hands move as he talks.
As the night progresses, the party gets louder, more crowded. Max notices you glancing around at the growing crowd.
"Want to get some air?" he asks, nodding toward a door that leads to a quieter area.
You follow him to a private terrace overlooking the city. The music is muffled here, and the night air is cool on your skin. You lean against the railing, city lights twinkling below.
"Better?" he asks, standing close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from him.
"Much." You turn to face him, drawn in by the way the lights play across his features. "Though I have to say, you throw quite a party for a rookie winner."
He laughs, the sound low and warm. "Rookie? I've been racing since before I could walk."
"Oh right, I forgot - Max Verstappen, born in a go-kart," you tease, making him smile wider.
"You're impossible, you know that?" He shakes his head, but his eyes are fond.
"Part of my charm," you counter, feeling bold in the privacy of the moment.
"Is that what you call it?" He's even closer now, close enough that you can see the flecks of gold in his eyes.
"Would you rather I was predictable?" You raise an eyebrow, challenging.
"Never." His voice drops lower, sending shivers down your spine. "Predictable is boring. And you, YN Wolff, are anything but boring."
The tension between you is electric, years of carefully maintained distance crumbling in this quiet moment. Your heart is racing so fast you wonder if he can hear it.
"Well," you say, stepping into his space until there's barely a breath between you, "I think the winner deserves a reward."
Before you can second-guess yourself, you're kissing him. It's everything and nothing like you imagined - soft at first, tentative, like you're both afraid of breaking something precious. Then his hand comes up to cup your face, and the kiss deepens, becomes more urgent. You can taste champagne on his lips, feel the solid warmth of him against you. Your fingers curl into his shirt, anchoring yourself as the world spins around you.
It's a perfect moment, suspended in time, until he pulls back slightly, resting his forehead against yours.
"You're trouble, Wolff," he murmurs against your lips, but he's smiling that smile that makes your heart flip. "Beautiful trouble."
"Scared?" you challenge softly, echoing your first conversation in Melbourne.
"Terrified," he admits, his thumb tracing your cheekbone. "But in a good way."
You stay at the party longer than you should, caught in Max's orbit. Every smile, every touch, every shared look feels charged with possibility. But reality crashes back hours later when you return.
Your dad is waiting, his expression thunderous in a way you've rarely seen directed at you. Your stomach drops as soon as you see him, the lingering warmth from Max's kisses turning to ice in your veins.
"Would you like to explain," he says slowly, each word precise and controlled, "why did I receive a call informing me that my daughter was at a Red Bull celebration?"
"Papa, I-" you start, but he cuts you off with a sharp gesture.
"Don't." His voice is hard. "Don't try to fool me. I've seen you with Max Verstappen."
The silence stretches between you, heavy with unspoken words. You want to defend yourself, explain that Max isn't just the Red Bull driver he sees, that there's more to him.
"Do you have any idea," he continues, "what position this puts me in? Puts the team in?"
"It's not about the teams," you say quietly, finding your voice. "It's just-"
"Just what?" he challenges. "Just you and him? Nothing is ever just anything in Formula 1, YN. Every action has consequences. Every relationship has implications."
"That's not fair."
"Fair?" He laughs, but there's no humor in it. "This sport isn't about fair. It's about winning. About loyalty. About trust." He pauses, letting the words sink in. "How can I trust you to put the team first when you're sneaking around with our biggest rival?"
The words hit you like a physical blow. "I would never betray the team," you whisper, hurt that he could even think that.
"Maybe not intentionally," he says, his voice softening slightly. "But this… whatever this is with Max Verstappen… it can't continue. I won't tell you again. Stay away from him."
You want to argue more, to make him understand. But you recognize the finality in your father's tone, the immovable force that has made him such a successful team principal. In this world of racing and rivalry, some lines aren't meant to be crossed.
As you leave, you touch your lips, still feeling the ghost of Max's kiss. Your phone buzzes - a message from Max: "Worth the trouble?"
You stare at the screen, tears threatening to fall. Sometimes the biggest crashes in Formula 1 aren't on the track at all. Sometimes they're in the space between what your heart wants and what the sport demands.
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Germany, 2016
The German summer air is thick with tension. You can feel it crackling through the paddock like electricity before a storm. Nico and Lewis' rivalry has turned the Mercedes garage into a pressure cooker, and your father's stress is palpable. Being around him feels like walking on eggshells, which makes your secret meetings with Max even more dangerous.
You've gotten good at this dance over the past few months - stolen moments between practice sessions, hidden corners of the paddock, coded messages about "casual meetings" that are anything but casual. Every stolen kiss feels like a victory and a risk all at once.
The sun is setting over Hockenheim when you slip behind the Red Bull motorhome, your heart racing with the familiar mix of excitement and fear. Max is already there, leaning against the wall with that cocky smile that still makes your stomach flip.
"Cutting it close, Wolff," he murmurs as you approach. "Your father's been prowling the paddock all day."
"Worried?" you tease, even as you glance around to ensure you're alone.
His answer is to pull you against him, one hand sliding to your waist while the other cups your face. "About your father? Always. About this? Never."
The kiss is heated from the start - months of practice have taught you both exactly how to make each other breathless. His thumb traces your jawline as he deepens the kiss, and you press closer, fingers curling into his team shirt. You love how solid he feels against you, how his breath catches when you bite gently at his lower lip.
"You're going to get me in trouble," he whispers against your mouth, but his smile suggests he doesn't mind at all.
"You love trouble," you remind him, trailing kisses along his jaw.
His hands tighten on your waist. "I love-" he starts, but cuts himself off, choosing instead to capture your lips again in a kiss that makes you forget everything else.
You lose track of time, lost in the taste of him, the feel of his hands on your skin, the way he whispers your name like a prayer. It's dangerous and perfect and everything you shouldn't want but can't resist.
A sound makes you both freeze. You pull apart quickly, straightening your clothes, but it's too late.
Jos Verstappen stands at the corner of the motorhome, his expression dark and unreadable. Your blood runs cold at the sight of him.
"I… I should go," you manage, your voice shaky. Max's hand brushes yours briefly - a small comfort - before you hurry past his father, avoiding his stern gaze.
Behind you, you can hear Jos' voice, low and harsh in Dutch, but you don't stop to listen. Your heart is pounding as you make your way back to the paddock, wondering if this is the moment everything falls apart.
Max stands his ground as his father's disapproval fills the space between them.
"What do you think you're doing?" Jos demands in Dutch, his voice controlled but sharp. "The Wolff girl? Have you lost your mind?"
"It's not what you think-" Max starts, but Jos cuts him off.
"It's exactly what I think. You're letting yourself get distracted. By a Mercedes girl, no less. Toto Wolff's daughter?" Jos steps closer, his presence intimidating despite Max now being taller than him. "You're just starting to prove yourself in Formula 1. This is when you need to focus more than ever."
"I am focused," Max argues. "My results prove that."
"For now." Jos' voice turns cold. "But girls like that, from families like that - they're nothing but distractions. She'll get in your head, make you soft. And then what? You think Toto Wolff wants his daughter with a Red Bull driver? You think this ends well?"
Max clenches his jaw, fighting back the urge to defend you, to explain that you're different, that you understand the sport as well as he does. But he knows his father won't listen.
"Stay away from her," Jos says finally, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Focus on what matters. On winning and being champion. That's what we've worked for all these years. Don't throw it away for some girl."
The words hit harder than Max wants to admit, echoing his own doubts, his own fears about what this thing with you means. But he can't forget the way you look at him like you see past the racer, past the name, to who he really is.
Jos leaves him there in the growing darkness, with only the weight of expectations and the lingering taste of your kiss on his lips.
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Monaco, May 2017
Another year, another dance of stolen moments and secret smiles. If anything, the warnings and opposition have only made whatever this is between you and Max more intense. Like a forbidden drug, each stolen moment leaves you craving more, even as the risks grow higher.
"This is a terrible idea," Max whispers as you pull him through your back door, "Your dad is literally upstairs."
"He's dead asleep," you assure him, carefully closing the door. "He took sleeping pills for his flight tomorrow. Besides, he sleeps like the dead anyway."
Max still looks like he's ready to bolt at any second. "YN, if he catches me here-"
"He won't." You tug him closer by his shirt. "Unless you keep talking so loud."
He glances nervously at the stairs. "Your room is up there? Past his?"
"Scared, Verstappen?"
"Terrified, actually." But he follows you anyway, both of you carefully avoiding the creaky third step you'd mapped out years ago during teenage sneaking attempts.
You're almost at your door when Max freezes. "Was that-"
"Just the house settling," you whisper, but your heart is racing too. "Come on, we're almost-"
A door opens down the hall.
Max actually whimpers. You shove him into your room just as Toto's voice calls out, "YN? Is that you?"
"Just getting water, Papa!" you call back, praying your voice sounds normal. "Go back to sleep."
"Everything okay?"
"Fine! Those pills should be kicking in, right?"
A yawn. "Ja, starting to feel them. Goodnight, Schatz."
"Night, Papa!"
You wait until you hear his door close before slipping into your room. You find Max standing perfectly still in the middle of the floor, looking absolutely terrified.
"I think I'm having a heart attack," he announces in a whisper. "I'm actually having a heart attack. I can see the headlines now: 'F1 Driver Dies of Fear in Team Principal's House.'"
You try not to laugh. "You're being dramatic."
"Dramatic?" His voice rises slightly before he catches himself. "YN, your father was ten feet away from me. Ten feet! Do you know what he would do to me if he found me here?"
"Well, first he'd probably have a heart attack himself-"
"Not helping!"
"Then probably murder you-"
"Still not helping!"
"And Lewis would hide the body-"
"Why did I agree to this?" He runs his hands through his hair. "I'm a professional athlete. I have championships to win. I can't die in Toto Wolff's house because his daughter is too pretty to say no to."
You wrap your arms around his neck, grinning. "You think I'm pretty?"
"I think you're trying to kill me." But his hands settle on your waist automatically. "If your father walks in right now-"
"He won't."
"But if he does-"
"Max." You kiss him softly. "Stop talking about my father when you're in my bedroom."
"Missed you," he murmurs against your mouth, hands already sliding under your shirt. "Watching you in the paddock all day, not being able to touch you…"
You smile against his lips. "Poor baby. Must be so hard being professional."
He responds by lifting you up, making you laugh as he carries you toward your bed. "You have no idea."
Hours later, you're tangled in your sheets, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your bare skin. The city's lights cast shadows across his face, making him look older than his twenty years.
"We should sleep," you say, even as you press closer to him. "You have meetings tomorrow."
"Meetings are overrated," he mumbles into your hair, but you can hear the smile in his voice.
"Says the guy who's already breaking records." Your fingers trail down his chest. "Future world champion can't skip meetings."
He catches your hand, bringing it to his lips. "Future world champion can do whatever he wants."
You fall asleep like that, wrapped in each other, pretending the world outside doesn't exist. But morning comes too soon, sunlight streaming through your windows and your alarm blaring way too early.
Max groans, burying his face in your neck. "Five more minutes."
"You said that twenty minutes ago," you remind him, even as you run your fingers through his hair. "You're already going to be late, and my father is still next room, remember?"
He lifts his head, giving you that boyish grin that still makes your heart skip. "Worth it."
But reality can't be held at bay forever. Max rushes to get dressed, stealing kisses between looking for his scattered clothes. You watch from your bed, sheet wrapped around you, trying to memorize how he looks in the morning light.
"Tonight?" he asks, pausing at your bedroom door.
"Text me," you say, and he gives you one last smile before he's gone.
Max is still smiling when he arrives at the Red Bull office, nearly an hour late for his morning meeting. The smile dies on his lips when he sees his father waiting outside, arms crossed and expression thunderous.
"You were with that girl weren't you? Nothing's changed" Jos demands without preamble, switching to Dutch.
"I was just-"
"Don't lie to me." Jos' voice is low, dangerous. "Are you trying to destroy everything we've worked for?"
"I'm not destroying anything," Max argues, frustration creeping into his voice. "My results-"
"Your results could be better," Jos cuts him off. "You could be focused on becoming champion instead of sneaking around with Toto Wolff's daughter. Do you think this is a game?"
"It's not a game-"
"Then what is it?" Jos steps closer, his presence still intimidating despite Max being taller now. "Love?" He spits the word like it's poison. "You think love wins championships? You think that girl is worth throwing away everything we've sacrificed for?"
Max clenches his jaw, the weight of years of his father's expectations pressing down on him. "I can handle both-"
"No." Jos' voice is final, absolute. "You can't. And you won't. This ends now. Cut her off."
"Or what?" The words slip out before Max can stop them, a rare challenge to his father's authority.
Jos' eyes turn cold. "Or I'll make sure Toto knows exactly what his precious daughter has been up to. How do you think that ends for her? For her relationship with her father? For her position in the paddock?"
The threat hangs in the air between them. Max feels his stomach turn to ice, knowing his father well enough to know this isn't an empty threat.
"Your choice, Max," Jos says, already turning away. "But make it soon. This distraction ends now, or there will be consequences. For everyone."
Max stands there long after his father leaves, the taste of your kisses still on his lips, now bitter with the weight of choices.
Monza, 2017
The Italian late summer heat feels suffocating as you finally corner Max behind the Ferrari motorhome - neutral territory. He's been dodging you since Hungary, responding to texts with one-word answers before stopping altogether. You've seen that look in his eyes when he spots you in the paddock - the way he quickly turns away, finds somewhere else to be.
"Hey stranger," you say, aiming for casual despite your racing heart. "Been a while."
He looks everywhere but at you, hands shoved deep in his pockets. "YN…" There's a warning in his voice that you choose to ignore.
"I've missed you," you continue, taking a step closer. "We haven't talked since-"
"We can't do this anymore." His words cut through the air like a knife.
You freeze, the practiced speech you'd prepared dying in your throat. "What?"
"This." He gestures vaguely between you, still not meeting your eyes. "Whatever this is. It has to stop."
"Just like that?" Your voice comes out steadier than you feel. "After everything?"
"I need to focus on racing." He sounds like he's reciting a rehearsed speech. "Just racing. No distractions."
The word 'distraction' hits you like a physical blow. "Is that what I am? A distraction?"
Finally, he looks at you, and for a moment you see something crack in his carefully constructed facade - pain, regret, something more. But then it's gone, replaced by a coldness you've never seen directed at you before.
"This was never going to work," he says flatly. "We both knew that. It'll only cause trouble - for you, for me, for our families. It's better to end it now."
You think about all the stolen moments, the late-night conversations, the way he'd look at you like you were the only person in a crowded room. All reduced to 'trouble'.
"Fine." You straighten your spine, channeling every ounce of Wolff pride you possess. "See you around, Max Verstappen."
You turn and walk away before he can respond, each step measured and controlled despite feeling like your world is crumbling. You make it all the way to the Mercedes motorhome before the tears start to fall.
You duck into what you think is an empty corner, trying to get yourself under control, when a familiar voice makes you jump.
"Little Wolff?"
Lewis stands there, concern etched across his features. He's known you since you were a kid, has watched you grow up in the paddock. In many ways, he's your brother.
"I'm fine," you say automatically, wiping at your eyes. "Just… allergies."
"Right," he says softly, not believing you for a second. "Because Monza is famous for its allergies."
A sob escapes before you can stop it, and suddenly Lewis is pulling you into a hug. You break down against his chest, all your carefully maintained composure crumbling.
"Hey, hey," he soothes, rubbing your back. "What happened? Who do I need to beat up?"
You laugh wetly against his shoulder. "Nobody. It's stupid. I'm stupid."
"You're one of the smartest people I know," he counters. "So whatever it is, it's not stupid."
You pull back slightly, wiping your eyes. "I just… I thought…" You shake your head. "It doesn't matter what I thought. Clearly I was wrong."
Understanding dawns in Lewis's eyes. He's not blind - he's probably noticed more than most about your relationship with Max, even if he's never mentioned it.
"Sometimes," he says carefully, "people make choices out of fear rather than what they really want. Especially in this world."
"He said I was a distraction," you whisper, the words still burning.
Lewis's expression hardens slightly. "He's young. And scared. And probably being pulled in a hundred different directions." He pauses. "Doesn't make it hurt any less though, does it?"
You shake your head, fresh tears threatening to fall.
"Come here." He pulls you into another hug. "For what it's worth, I think he's an idiot. But maybe this is for the best, he's not good for you."
You stay there for a while, letting Lewis comfort you, grateful for his presence and his wisdom. But you can't shake the image of Max's face, that moment when his mask slipped, and you'd seen the pain in his eyes. You wonder if Lewis is right - if this is really about fear rather than feeling.
But in the end, you suppose it doesn't matter. A choice is still a choice, even if it's made for the wrong reasons.
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Monaco, Summer 2018
The bass thrums through your body as you down another shot, Lando cheering beside you. The club is packed - all of Monaco's elite young crowd mixed with racing's next generation. Your father would have an aneurysm if he saw you here, but that's half the fun.
"Another!" Lando shouts over the music, already signaling the bartender. He's technically too young to be here, but money and fame open most doors in Monaco.
"You're a bad influence, Norris," you laugh, but you don't stop him.
"Me?" He clutches his chest in mock offense. "I'm an angel. You're the one corrupting the youth."
"You're literally younger than me."
"Details, details." He hands you another shot. "To being young and irresponsible!"
You clink glasses with him, the alcohol burning pleasantly as it goes down. This is what you needed - no paddock politics, no disappointed looks from your father, no thoughts of…
"Oh shit," Lando says suddenly, following your gaze. "We can move to another section if you want."
Max has just walked in with a group of friends. He looks good - he always looks good - in dark jeans and a fitted black shirt. Your stomach does that familiar flip before you forcefully squash it down.
"Why should we move?" you say, perhaps a bit too loudly. "We were here first."
Lando gives you that knowing look he's perfected over the past year of friendship. "YN…"
"Don't start," you warn him. "I'm fine. It's fine. Ancient history."
"Right," he drawls. "That's why you drunk-called me crying about him last month."
"I did not!"
"'Lando,'" he mimics in a high voice, "'why doesn't he want meeeee?'"
You shove him playfully. "I hate you."
"You love me." He grins. "I'm your favorite driver now."
"You're not even in F1 yet."
"Yet!" He wraps an arm around your shoulders. "Next year though. Then I'll be beating your ex's ass on track."
"He's not my ex," you mutter. "We were never actually together, remember?"
"Right, just sneaking around making out for like a year and a half. Totally casual."
You're about to retort when movement catches your eye. Max is at the bar now, and there's a girl with him. Tall, blonde, model-beautiful. She's touching his arm, laughing at something he's saying, and he's leaning in close to hear her over the music.
"YN…" Lando's voice has that warning tone.
"I need another drink," you announce, turning back to the bar.
Three shots later, you're on the dance floor with Lando, trying to forget the scene playing out at the bar. But your eyes keep drifting over, watching as Max gets closer to the blonde, his hand now on her waist.
"Stop torturing yourself," Lando says in your ear.
"I'm not-" you start, but the words die in your throat as you watch Max lean down and kiss the girl.
Something inside you snaps. You scan the crowd, spotting a guy who's been eyeing you all night. He's good-looking enough - dark hair, nice smile, probably a trust fund kid like half the people here.
"YN," Lando tries to grab your arm, but you're already moving.
You approach the guy with purpose, channeling every ounce of confidence the alcohol has given you. "Want to dance?"
He looks surprised but pleased. "Absolutely."
You let him pull you close, perhaps closer than necessary. You can feel eyes on you - Lando's concerned ones, and maybe, just maybe, someone else's too.
The guy - you think he said his name was Alex or Alec - is a good dancer. His hands are respectful but firm on your hips as you move to the music. When he leans down to kiss you, you let him.
It's not a bad kiss. He knows what he's doing. But he doesn't taste right, doesn't feel right. His hands aren't calloused from racing. He doesn't smell like motor oil and expensive cologne. He's not… him
But you kiss him anyway. When you finally pull back from the kiss, Lando is at your elbow.
"I think we should head out," he says, glancing meaningfully at your nearly empty glass.
"I'm having fun," you protest, even as the room spins slightly. Alex-or-Alec's hands are still on your waist.
"YN." Lando's voice is firmer now. "Come on."
You turn back to Alex-or-Alec, pulling him down for another kiss. It's messy and desperate and you can taste the expensive whiskey on his breath. You're proving something, you think, though you're not sure what or to whom anymore.
Through the haze of alcohol and bass-heavy music, you hear a familiar voice.
"What the hell are you doing?"
Max is standing there, his face tight with anger. The blonde from earlier is nowhere to be seen, but there's another girl hovering behind him - brunette this time.
"Having fun," you say sweetly, pressing closer to Alex-or-Alec. "You should try it. Oh wait, you already are."
"You don't even know this guy," Max snaps.
"His name is Alex." You pause. "Or Alec."
"It's Adrian," the guy supplies helpfully.
"Whatever." Max steps forward. "You're drunk. You need to go home."
"And you need to mind your own business." You turn to Adrian with an exaggerated smile. "Want to get out of here?"
"YN," Lando pleads. "Don't."
"Sure," Adrian grins, clearly oblivious to the tension. "My place isn't far."
Max moves so fast you barely register it, suddenly between you and Adrian. "She's not going anywhere with you."
"Excuse me?" You push at his chest. "You don't get to decide that. You lost that right when you-" You cut yourself off, aware you're saying too much.
"When I what?" Max challenges, his eyes dark. "When I did exactly what you're doing right now?"
"No," you laugh, but it comes out bitter. "When you decided that sneaking around was fine until it wasn't. When you started showing up to every event with a new girl on your arm. When you-"
"YN," Lando tugs at your arm. "Not here."
You shake him off. "Go back to your girlfriend, Max. Or girlfriends. I lost count tonight."
"You're being ridiculous."
"And you're being a hypocrite." You grab Adrian's hand. "Let's go."
Max's hand closes around your wrist. "You're not leaving with him."
"Get your hands off me." Your voice is ice cold. "You don't get to play protective boyfriend when it suits you. Go find another model to add to your collection."
Something flashes in his eyes - hurt maybe, or anger. "Fine. Do what you want. You always do anyway."
"Exactly. I do what I want." You turn to Adrian. "Sorry, but I've changed my mind. Turns out I have standards."
You shake off Max's grip and push past him, heading for the exit. Lando hurries after you, already calling for a car.
"YN, wait-" Max calls after you.
"Go to hell, Verstappen."
Outside, the Monaco air is cool against your flushed skin. Lando wraps his jacket around your shoulders as tears start to fall.
"I hate him," you whisper.
"No, you don't." Lando pulls you into a hug. "That's the problem."
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The morning sunlight streaming through the windows feels like actual daggers in your skull. You're nursing your third cup of coffee, wearing sunglasses indoors like the walking cliché you are, when your father's voice cuts through your hangover haze.
"Would you care to explain these?"
Toto slides his phone across the breakfast table. Your stomach drops as you see the photos - you dancing with Adrian, Max confronting you, your tearful exit with Lando. The Monaco nightlife paparazzi are relentless, and you were too drunk to notice them.
"Papa, I-"
"No." His voice is quiet but firm. That's worse than yelling. "This stops now, YN. This... rebellion phase of yours. It stops."
Lewis and Valtteri are suddenly very interested in their breakfast plates. Susie, your stepmother, places a gentle hand on your father's arm, but doesn't contradict him.
"It wasn't-"
"Wasn't what?" Toto's accent gets thicker when he's angry. "Wasn't you, drunk in a club, making headlines again? Wasn't you creating another PR nightmare for the team?"
Your head throbs. "I'm not part of the team."
"No? Then why does every tabloid headline read 'Mercedes Boss's Daughter in Club Drama with Red Bull Star'?"
You wince. Both at his words and at the volume.
"The drinking, the parties, the public scenes - it needs to stop." He leans forward. "You're not just any teenager, liebling. Everything you do reflects on this family, on this team."
"That's not fair."
"Life isn't fair." He softens slightly. "I know this past year has been... difficult."
You feel Lewis shift beside you. He knows - of course he knows. He's probably the only one at this table who knows the full story of you and Max.
"But this self-destructive behavior cannot continue." Your father's voice is final. "You're grounded."
"I'm twenty one!"
"And living on my yacht, in my house, representing my name." He raises an eyebrow. "Would you prefer to go back to boarding school?"
The threat lands. You sink lower in your chair.
"No, sir."
"Good." He turns to his own coffee. "No more clubs. No more parties. And for God's sake, no more scenes with Max Verstappen."
Your phone buzzes in your pocket. You know without looking it's probably Lando checking on you. Or worse, Max.
"YN." Your father's voice draws your attention back. "I mean it. Whatever is going on between you two... it ends now."
"Nothing is going on," you mutter.
"Then it should be easy to maintain distance."
Susie finally speaks up. "Why don't you come work with me for a while? Help with the She Moves Forward initiative?"
You know it's a peace offering - a way to keep you busy and out of trouble. But the thought of structured days and responsible tasks makes your hangover worse.
"Fine," you concede, if only to end this conversation.
Lewis nudges you under the table - a small gesture of solidarity. Valtteri offers a sympathetic smile.
"Good." Your father stands. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have damage control to handle."
After he leaves, Lewis slides a bottle of Advil towards you. "Here. You look like death."
"Thanks," you grumble, dry-swallowing two pills.
"He's right, you know," Lewis says quietly. "About Max."
"Not you too."
"YN." His voice is gentle. "You can't keep doing this to yourself. The drinking, the acting out - it's not going to make it hurt less."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Sure you don't." He stands, squeezing your shoulder. "Just... think about what you're really angry at. Because I don't think it's your father, or the team, or even Max."
"I'm going back to bed," you announce to no one in particular.
"Honey," Susie calls after you. "This doesn't have to be a punishment. Maybe it's an opportunity."
You pause at the door. "For what?"
"To figure out who you are without all the drama. Without..." she hesitates. "Without defining yourself by who you're trying to hurt."
You think about Max's face last night, about the girls he was with, about how none of it made you feel better.
"Yeah," you say quietly. "Maybe."
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The air feels thick and oppressive as you stumble out of another club, the world spinning slightly. You're not entirely sure how you ended up here - after the disastrous night a few weeks ago, you'd promised yourself (and your father) that you were done with the party scene. But one text from Lando about needing to "get out" had quickly spiraled.
Except Lando had bailed last minute with food poisoning, and you'd gone anyway. Because you're nothing if not stubborn.
The familiar figure of Charles Leclerc materializes beside you. "YN? Are you okay?"
"Charles!" You throw your arms around him, nearly losing your balance. "My favorite Ferrari boy!"
He steadies you with practiced ease. "How much have you had to drink?"
"Lost count," you admit cheerfully. "But it's fine. Everything's fine."
Charles sighs, pulling out his phone. "I'm calling Lewis."
"No!" You grab for his phone but miss entirely. "Not Lewis. He'll tell Papa."
"Good. Maybe he should."
You slump against the wall, suddenly exhausted. "Everyone's so disappointed in me."
Charles' expression softens as he puts the phone to his ear. "We're worried, not disappointed."
Twenty minutes later, you hear the distinctive rumble of Lewis's car. He jumps out, concern etched on his face.
"YN? What were you thinking?"
"That alcohol makes feelings go away?" you offer weakly.
Lewis turns to Charles. "Thanks for calling me."
"Of course. Take care of her."
The ride home is quiet until Lewis finally speaks. "This has to stop."
"I know," you whisper.
"No, I mean it really has to stop. You're hurting yourself, and for what? To prove something to Max?"
"It's not about Max."
"Isn't it?"
You stare out the window, tears forming. "I need to get away from here."
"What do you mean?"
"The paddock, the drama, all of it." You turn to him. "I can't keep doing this. Being the Mercedes princess, the ex-whatever of Max Verstappen. I need… space."
Lewis is quiet for a moment. "Maybe that's not a bad idea. Take some time, figure out who you are away from all this."
"Will you help me convince Papa?"
"Yeah," he says softly. "I'll help. But you have to promise me - no more nights like this."
You nod, the weight of everything finally catching up to you. "I promise."
As Lewis helps you out of the car, you freeze. Toto is standing in the doorway, still in his sleeping clothes. Your stomach drops and fresh tears spring to your eyes - this is it, the final disappointment.
But instead of the anger you expect, your father simply opens his arms.
You practically fall into them, suddenly sobbing. "I'm so sorry, Papa. I'm so sorry."
"Shh," he soothes, holding you tight like he did when you were little. "You're alright, liebling. You're alright."
"I can't-" you hiccup against his chest. "I can't do this anymore. I need to get out of here."
"Out of where?"
"Monaco. The paddock. All of it." You pull back slightly to look at him. "I need space. To figure out who I am without… without all of this."
Toto exchanges a look with Lewis over your head. "I know," he says softly, surprising you. "I've seen it coming."
"You have?"
He cups your face in his hands, wiping away tears with his thumbs. "You're my daughter. Of course I have. I just needed you to realize it yourself."
"I'm tired, Papa," you whisper. "Of being the Mercedes princess, of the gossip, of seeing…" You trail off, but they all know what you mean. Who you mean.
"Then go," he says simply. "Find yourself. The paddock will still be here when you're ready."
"You're not mad?"
He laughs softly. "Oh, we'll discuss tonight's adventure when you're less drunk. But no, liebling. I'm not mad. Sometimes we need to step away to see things clearly."
Lewis steps forward, placing a hand on your shoulder. "We've got your back, little Wolff. Whatever you need."
Fresh tears fall as you're overwhelmed by their support. "I love you both so much."
"And we love you," Toto kisses your forehead. "Now, let's get you to bed. We can make plans tomorrow."
As they help you inside, you feel lighter somehow. Like maybe this isn't an ending, but a beginning. A chance to become someone new - or maybe to find who you've been all along, underneath the labels and expectations.
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Austria, 2020
The familiar scent of rubber and fuel hits you as you step into the Mercedes garage for the first time in almost two years, your heart doing a little flip at being back after so long. Everything looks exactly the same, yet somehow different - or maybe you're the one who's different now.
"Little Wolff!" Lewis' voice booms across the garage before you're engulfed in a bone-crushing hug that lifts you off your feet. "Finally back where you belong!"
You laugh, squeezing him back just as tight. "You literally saw me at Christmas, Lewis!"
"That's not the same and you know it," he sets you down but keeps his hands on your shoulders, studying your face. "Christmas is family time. This," he gestures around the garage, "this is home."
Looking at him now, you can see the genuine joy in his eyes. Lewis has always been your second father, and these past two years, he's been your biggest cheerleader from afar, always sending encouraging messages when you were climbing mountains in Nepal or teaching English in Thailand.
"She's hardly been here five minutes and you're already monopolizing her, Lewis?" Your father's voice carries that familiar warmth that makes your chest tight with happiness. Your relationship with him has transformed during your time away - all those long phone calls and video chats where you really talked, not just about racing but about life, dreams, fears. Distance made you both realize what you'd been missing.
"Papa," you smile, walking into his open arms. He holds you close, pressing a kiss to your temple.
"Welcome home, liebling," he murmurs. "The garage hasn't been the same without you."
"I missed you too," you say, then pull back with a grin. "But I need to go see someone else before he thinks I've forgotten him entirely."
Toto laughs. "Go on then. Lando's been asking about you non-stop since he heard you were coming back."
You practically skip your way to the McLaren garage, your heart light. The past two years have given you perspective, helped you understand yourself better. You're not the angry, lost girl who fled Monaco anymore. You're stronger now, more sure of who you are outside of being "Toto Wolff's daughter" or "Max Verstappen's conquest."
"YN!" Lando's screech of delight echoes through the garage as he launches himself at you. "You're back, you're finally back!"
"I missed you so much, you idiot," you ruffle his hair, noting how he's grown even more into himself. He's not the shy rookie anymore - he's coming into his own as a driver.
"Group hug!" Carlos appears, wrapping his long arms around both of you. "Welcome back, pequeña. It's been too quiet without you here to keep this one in line."
"Oi!" Lando protests, but he's beaming.
You're in the middle of telling them about your adventures in Japan when movement catches your eye. Your words trail off as you see him - Max, walking past the garage with Christian. He's filled out more, shoulders broader, face more mature. Your heart does that familiar stutter-step it always did around him.
Two years haven't completely erased the memory of his hands on your skin, his laugh against your neck, the way he used to look at you like you were his entire world. First loves leave permanent marks, and Max Verstappen had branded himself onto your heart when you were both too young to understand the weight of it all.
He must feel your gaze because he turns, and for a moment, your eyes lock. There's something there - recognition, remembrance, maybe even regret. You see him swallow hard, his step faltering just slightly. But neither of you moves to bridge the gap.
You turn back to Lando and Carlos, forcing a smile, but your mind is still with that brief moment of eye contact. You're not that lovesick teenager anymore, but part of you wonders if you'll ever fully get over Max Verstappen. If anyone ever really gets over their first love, or if they just learn to live with the echo of what could have been.
"YN?" Lando's voice brings you back to the present. "You okay?"
You look at your friend's concerned face and give him a genuine smile this time. "Yeah, I am. Just… remembering."
Carlos squeezes your shoulder knowingly. "The past is the past, si? You're here now, that's what matters."
You nod, grateful for their understanding. You're not the same person who left two years ago, running from heartbreak and confusion. You're stronger now, wiser. Ready to write a new chapter.
Even if sometimes, just sometimes, you still feel the ghost of an old love story tugging at your heart.
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Barcelona, 2020
The Barcelona night is warm and heavy with memories as you sit at the outdoor terrace of the restaurant. Daniel's telling some ridiculous story about a kangaroo, but your attention keeps drifting to the other end of the table where Max sits, deliberately positioned as far from you as possible.
Five years ago, you'd kissed him for the first time just a few streets from here. After his first win, giddy with freedom and teenage rebellion.
"So how was Bali?" Charles asks making your come back to your senses,"The surfing photos were insane."
"Almost died about twelve times," you laugh. "But worth it."
"She's exaggerating," Max comments casually, surprising everyone at the table. It's the first time he's directly addressed anything about your travels. "I saw the videos. Your form wasn't that bad."
You catch his eye across the table. "Been keeping tabs on me, Verstappen?"
He shrugs, a hint of that old smirk playing at his lips. "Hard not to when you're all over everyone's Instagram stories."
The tension at the table shifts slightly - not gone, but different. Lando kicks your foot under the table, raising an eyebrow when you look at him. You ignore him.
The conversation flows easier after that, stories and laughter bouncing around the table. You find yourself watching Max when he's not looking - the way he's grown into his features, how his laugh is deeper now, how he still runs his hand through his hair when he's trying not to smile.
As the night winds down, you end up being the last two waiting for cars. The others had filtered out gradually - Daniel dragging Charles off to some club, Lando claiming early training, Carlos heading home with his father.
"So," Max breaks the silence first, hands in his pockets. "Two years."
"Two years," you echo, leaning against the wall. "Feels longer sometimes."
"And shorter," he adds, then glances at you. "You look good. Happy."
"I am. Mostly." You study his profile in the streetlights. "You've changed too."
He laughs softly. "Had to grow up sometime, right? Can't be the paddock's problem child forever."
"No more sneaking around in garages?" The words slip out before you can stop them.
His eyes darken slightly at the memory. "Bit harder to get away with that these days. Plus, there hasn't been anyone worth the risk."
The weight of unspoken things hangs between you. All those stolen moments - behind motorhomes, in empty conference rooms, dark corners of victory parties. Never official, never acknowledged, but burning so bright it scared you both.
"Want to come up to my place?" he asks suddenly. "Just to talk. Properly. Without…" he gestures vaguely at the paddock world around you.
You should say no. But two years of distance have made you forget how magnetic he is, or maybe just made you brave enough to pretend you can resist it. "Okay."
The penthouse is exactly what you'd expect - sleek and modern, with a view that makes you catch your breath. You walk to the windows, Barcelona sprawling below like a constellation.
"Remember that night after your first win?" you ask softly. "When we snuck onto the roof?"
"Papa Wolff nearly had a heart attack," Max comes to stand beside you, close enough that your arms almost touch. "Worth it though."
"Was it?" You turn to look at him. "All of it? The sneaking around, the fights with our families, the constant hiding?"
"You know it was." His voice drops lower. "At least, it was for me."
"Max…"
"I've missed you," he admits quietly. "Not just… not just the physical stuff. I missed talking to you. Making you laugh. The way you'd roll your eyes every time I said something stupid in press conferences."
"I still do that," you smile despite yourself. "Some things don't change."
"Maybe they shouldn't." He steps closer, and suddenly you're eighteen again, heart racing at his proximity. "Maybe some things are worth holding onto."
When he kisses you, it feels like muscle memory. Your body remembers this dance - the way his hands find your waist, how he tastes like wine and possibilities. It's softer than the desperate kisses you used to share in dark corners, but somehow more dangerous for it.
You pull back first, breathing hard. "We can't."
"Why not?" His thumb traces your cheekbone. "We're not kids anymore. Who cares what anyone thinks?"
"I do," you step away, wrapping your arms around yourself. "I left to get away from this, Max. From sneaking around, from being the paddock scandal waiting to happen. I built a life where I'm not defined by who I'm secretly sleeping with or whose daughter I am."
"It wouldn't be like before-"
"Wouldn't it? The politics haven't changed. Our families still wouldn't approve."
"I don't care about any of that," he reaches for you but you step back.
"That's the problem," your voice cracks. "I had to live with all of it. The whispers, the judgment, watching my father's face every time there was another rumor about us. I can't go back to that."
"YN, please-"
"I should go." You grab your phone from the counter. "This was a mistake."
At the elevator, you turn back one last time. He's still by the window, silhouetted against the city lights. "For what it's worth," you say softly, "you were my first love. Maybe that's why we have to let it stay in the past."
The elevator doors close on his response, and you lean against the wall, heart pounding. Some part of you will probably always want Max Verstappen. But you've worked too hard to become your own person to let that want destroy everything again.
Even if walking away feels like leaving part of yourself behind.
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Monaco, 2020
The yacht party is winding down, the late hour thinning out the crowd until somehow you find yourself alone on the upper deck. The Mediterranean breeze carries fragments of music and laughter from below, but up here it's quiet enough to hear your own thoughts - dangerous, when they all seem to revolve around him.
You hear his footsteps before you see him. You don't need to turn around to know it's Max - your body has always been attuned to his presence, like a compass finding north.
"Hiding?" His voice is soft as he comes to stand beside you at the railing.
"Just needed some air." It's not entirely a lie. "Shouldn't you be downstairs? This is your best friend's party."
"Daniel can handle it on his own," he shrugs, looking out at the harbor lights. "Needed some air too."
The silence that follows should be uncomfortable, but it isn't. That's the problem with Max - everything still feels as natural as breathing. Two years away hasn't changed how your body relaxes in his presence, how the air seems to crackle with possibility when he's near.
"Remember that party in Singapore?" he asks suddenly.
You smile despite yourself. "When we hid from Lewis for half of the night?"
"You were wearing that blue dress," he continues, and something in his voice makes your heart skip. "I couldn't take my eyes off you all night."
"Max…"
"I still can't," he admits quietly. "Even now. Even when I'm supposed to be focusing on other things, my eyes just… find you."
You grip the railing tighter. "We can't do this again."
"Can't we?" He turns to face you now. "Because ever since Barcelona, since that kiss…"
"That was a mistake."
"Was it?" He steps closer, and you fight the urge to move away. "Because it didn't feel like a mistake. It felt like coming home."
The words hit you right in the chest, because he's right. That's exactly what it felt like - like every cell in your body recognizing where it belonged.
"Nothing's changed," you say, but your voice wavers. "The politics, our families, the media…"
"Everything's changed," he counters. "We're not those kids anymore, sneaking around without putting a label on it because we didn't know better. I know exactly what I want now. Who I want."
"Max, please-"
"Two years, YN. Two years of watching you live your life through Instagram stories and paddock glimpses. Two years of trying to convince myself I was over you." His hand finds yours on the railing. "But the truth is, a part of me has belonged to you since that first night in Melbourne, and I don't think that's ever going to change."
You should pull your hand away. Instead, you turn it over, letting your fingers intertwine with his. "I tried so hard to become someone new," you whisper. "Traveled the world, built this whole independent life. But the moment I saw you again…"
"I know." His other hand comes up to cup your face, and you lean into the touch instinctively. "Because I felt it too."
"It scares me," you admit. "How easy it is to fall back into this. How right it feels when it should feel wrong."
"Maybe that's exactly why it isn't wrong." His thumb traces your cheekbone. "Maybe some things are just meant to be, despite everything else."
When he kisses you this time, it's different from Barcelona. That kiss had been hesitant, testing. This one feels like surrender, like finally stopping a fight you were always meant to lose. Your hands find his chest, feeling his heart racing under your palm, matching the erratic rhythm of your own.
He pulls back slightly, resting his forehead against yours. "I love you," he whispers. "You're the first girl I ever loved, and I think maybe you'll be the last. I know it's complicated, I know there are a million reasons why we shouldn't, but I don't care about any of them. I just want you."
You close your eyes, overwhelmed by the truth in his words, by how perfectly they mirror your own feelings. "I never stopped loving you," you confess. "I tried. God, I tried so hard. But it's like… it's like a part of me just belongs to you, and no amount of distance can change that."
"Then be with me," he pleads softly. "For real this time. No more running."
"How?" But you're already melting into him as he pulls you closer. "Nothing's changed, Max. My father would still lose it, Christian would still disapprove, the media would have a field day…"
"So we don't tell them." His hands slide to your waist. "We keep it between us. No sneaking around in garages this time, no risky moments in the paddock. Just us, in private, doing this properly."
You should say no. You know all the reasons why this can't work. But as his lips find yours again, you realize you're tired of fighting this magnetic pull between you.
"If anyone finds out…" you start.
"They won't," he promises. "We'll be careful. We're not those reckless kids anymore."
And maybe that's the key difference - you're not acting on impulse anymore, not diving in blindly. You're choosing this, fully aware of the consequences, of what you both stand to lose.
"Okay," you whisper against his mouth. "Okay."
When he kisses you again, it feels like every kiss you've ever shared and completely new all at once. Like coming home and starting an adventure. Like an ending and a beginning wrapped into one.
Later, you'll figure out the logistics, the careful dance of secrecy. But for now, you let yourself exist in this moment.
Some things, you realize, are worth keeping secret. Some loves are worth protecting, even if it means hiding them from the world.
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Morning light filters through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Max's apartment, painting everything in soft gold. You're awake before him, taking in the familiar weight of his arm around your waist, the steady rhythm of his breathing against your neck. It feels surreal - like stepping back in time, but with the sharp edge of awareness that comes with being older.
You feel him stir, his arm tightening slightly around you. "You're thinking too loud," he mumbles against your shoulder.
"Sorry," you turn to face him, finding his eyes still heavy with sleep. "Hard not to."
He props himself up on an elbow, studying your face. The morning light makes everything feel more raw, more real. "Having second thoughts?"
"No," you say honestly. "Just… thinking about how we make this work."
"We managed before."
"And look how that ended." You trace a pattern on his chest absently. "We were reckless then. Every stolen moment was a near-miss."
He catches your hand, bringing it to his lips. "So we're smarter this time. No more risky moments in the paddock. No sneaking around where anyone could see us."
"It's not just that." You sit up, pulling the sheet with you. "Max, if this gets out… it's not just about our families being angry. It could affect your career, the team dynamics. And my father-"
"Would probably try to have me assassinated," he finishes with a half-smile, but you can see the seriousness in his eyes. "I know. Trust me, I've thought about all of it."
"And you still want this?"
He sits up too, cupping your face in his hands. "More than anything. The question is, do you?"
You lean into his touch, closing your eyes. "You know I do. That's what scares me. How much I want this, despite everything."
"Then we figure it out." His thumb brushes your cheekbone. "We're not kids anymore. We know how to be discreet. Your place, my place, private locations only. No public appearances together unless we're with the whole group. No suspicious social media activity."
"No telling anyone," you add. "Not even Lando or Charles."
"Especially not them," he agrees. "The fewer people who know, the safer it is."
You open your eyes to find him watching you with that intense focus he usually reserves for racing. "It's going to be hard," you warn. "Pretending there's nothing between us in public. Watching you from a distance at races."
"We've had years of practice at that," he reminds you softly. "At least now I get to hold you afterward."
The simple statement makes your heart clench. You lean forward, pressing your forehead to his. "When did you get so good with words?"
"Must be all those media training sessions," he smirks, but then turns serious. "I meant what I said last night. I love you. Whatever we have to do to make this work, I'm in."
"I love you too," you whisper back. "God, I really do."
He kisses you then, slow and deep, like he's trying to memorize the moment. When you pull back, you're both breathing harder.
The morning light is brighter now, reality creeping in with the rising sun. Soon, you'll have to leave separately, go back to pretending there's nothing between you. But for now, you let yourself sink into his embrace, memorizing the feeling of being here, being his.
"This is crazy, isn't it?" you murmur against his chest.
"Probably," he agrees, pressing a kiss to your hair. "But some of the best things in life are a little crazy."
You know there will be challenges ahead - difficult moments, close calls, the constant strain of secrecy. But as Max pulls you back down onto the pillows, his lips finding yours with familiar hunger, you think maybe he's right.
Some things are worth the risk. Some loves are worth keeping secret.
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The key card clicks softly as you slip into Max's Monaco apartment late on September 30th. You'd made your excuses to your friends early - a headache, an important call - knowing they wouldn't question it too much since they'd already planned Max's official celebration for tomorrow.
But tonight is just for the two of you.
You find him in the kitchen, already changed into sweatpants and a soft t-shirt, pulling something from the oven. The domestic scene makes your heart flutter.
"Is Max Verstappen actually baking?" you tease, dropping your bag.
He turns with that smile that's become exclusively yours - soft, unguarded, real. "It's just heating up the cake Victoria made. I'm not completely useless."
You cross the space between you, wrapping your arms around him from behind. "Happy birthday, baby."
He turns in your embrace, backing you against the counter. "This is already better than last year's birthday."
"Mm, because last year you weren't secretly dating your rival team principal's daughter?"
"Because last year I couldn't do this," he murmurs, before kissing you deeply, hands sliding under your shirt to find bare skin. You melt into him, fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer.
The timer dings, making you both jump and then laugh.
"The cake can wait," he starts, but you push him back gently.
"Let's do this properly. Cake first, then presents, then…" you trail off suggestively.
"Fine," he sighs dramatically, but his eyes are sparkling. "But I'm holding you to that 'then'."
You sit cross-legged on his massive couch, sharing pieces of Victoria's chocolate cake straight from the tin. It's comfortable in a way that still surprises you sometimes - how easily you've fallen into these private moments, these glimpses of normalcy in your decidedly abnormal situation.
"Got you something," you say, reaching for your bag.
He raises an eyebrow. "Thought you were my present?"
"Cheesy," you throw a pillow at him, which he catches easily. "Here."
He unwraps the small package carefully. Inside is a simple leather bracelet, dark brown with a subtle pattern worked into it. "Turn it over," you say softly.
On the inside, barely visible unless you know to look, are your initials and the date from Monaco - the night everything changed.
"YN…" his voice is rough as he runs his thumb over the engraving.
"I know we can't do obvious things," you explain. "But I wanted you to have something… something that's just ours. Something you can wear without anyone knowing what it means."
He pulls you into his lap, kissing you with an intensity that makes your head spin. "I love it," he murmurs against your lips. "I love you."
"I love you too," you whisper back, heart full with how natural those words feel now. "Even if you are getting old."
He retaliates by tickling your sides until you're both breathless with laughter, ending up horizontal on the couch with you pinned beneath him.
"Twenty-three isn't old," he protests, pressing kisses down your neck.
"Ancient," you tease, but it turns into a gasp as he finds that sensitive spot below your ear. "Max…"
"Mm?"
"The cake…"
"Can wait," he finishes, hands already working on the buttons of your shirt. "Right now, I want to unwrap my other present."
Later, much later, you're tangled in his sheets, your head on his chest as he plays with your hair. The city lights twinkle through the windows, creating patterns on the ceiling.
"Thank you," he says softly.
"For what?"
"For this. For making my birthday special even though we have to hide. For loving me despite everything."
You prop yourself up to look at him, trace the line of his jaw with your finger. "Thank you for making it worth it."
He catches your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm. "Sometimes I wish we could just tell everyone. Walk into the paddock holding your hand, take you on real dates, post about you on Instagram like a normal couple."
"I know," you sigh, settling back against his chest. "Me too. But…"
"But it would cause chaos," he finishes. "I know. Doesn't stop me from wanting it though."
You lift your head again, kissing him softly. "Maybe someday. But for now, I'm happy just having you like this. These moments are ours, just ours."
His arms tighten around you. "I love you," he says again, like he can't help himself. "More than racing, more than winning, more than-"
"Don't," you laugh, pressing a finger to his lips. "Don't say more than racing. We both know that's a lie."
He grins, rolling you under him again. "Maybe it's a tie?"
"I can live with that," you smile up at him, pulling him down for another kiss.
The world outside keeps turning - tomorrow there will be the official party, the public celebrations, the careful distance you'll have to maintain. But tonight, in this space that's become your sanctuary, you can just be Max and YN, two people in love, celebrating another year together.
Even if the rest of the world doesn't know it yet.
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Monaco, 2021
You're curled into Max's side on your couch, some Netflix show playing in the background that neither of you is really watching. His fingers trace lazy patterns on your arm while you scroll through your phone, both enjoying the calm before tomorrow's storm - the start of a new season, new expectations, new pressure.
"Nervous about tomorrow?" you ask, tilting your head to look at him.
He shrugs, but you can feel the slight tension in his shoulders. "Not nervous. Just… ready. The car feels good, testing went well."
"Mm," you press a kiss to his jaw. "Maybe this is your year."
"Maybe," but his smile is confident as he turns to capture your lips properly. "Though right now I'm more interested in-"
Your phone buzzes loudly, Lando's name flashing on the screen. You answer it without thinking.
"Hey Lan-"
"I'm outside your place!" his cheerful voice cuts through. "Charles and I brought wine and that awful reality show you love. Open up!"
Your heart stops. "What?"
"Come on, it's freezing out here! I can see your lights on."
You sit up straight, panic flooding your system. "Lando, I-"
"Don't even try to say you're busy. It's the night before the first race, I know you're just sitting there overthinking everything."
Max is already moving, gathering his shoes and jacket silently. Your eyes meet across the room, both knowing how catastrophic it would be if Lando found him here.
"Give me five minutes," you say into the phone, trying to keep your voice steady. "I'm… I need to put clothes on."
"Gross, too much information," Lando laughs. "Five minutes!"
You hang up, heart racing. "Shit, shit, shit."
"It's fine," Max is surprisingly calm as he pulls on his shoes. "I'll go out through the back stairs."
"What if they see you?" You're already scanning the room for any evidence of him - his Red Bull cap on the coffee table, his phone charger by the couch.
"They won't." He grabs his things efficiently, muscle memory from two years of sneaking around kicking in. "I'll text you when I'm clear."
Another knock at the door makes you both freeze. "YN!" Charles's voice this time. "We can hear you moving around!"
Max pulls you in for a quick, hard kiss. "I love you. Don't worry."
"Be careful," you whisper against his lips.
He flashes that cocky grin you love. "Always am."
You watch him disappear through your bedroom toward the back stairwell, then take a deep breath, running your hands through your hair to mess it up slightly - making your "just got out of bed" excuse more believable.
When you open the door, Lando immediately pushes past you with wine bottles clinking. "Finally! What were you really doing?"
"Told you, getting dressed." You accept Charles' hello kiss on the cheek, praying your face isn't as flushed as it feels.
"Your shirt's inside out," Charles points out, smirking.
You look down - shit, he's right. You'd thrown it on hastily after… earlier activities. "I was sleeping," you say quickly. "You guys interrupted my pre-race nap routine."
"At 9 PM?" Lando's already making himself at home on your couch - right where Max was sitting minutes ago. "Sure, sure."
Your phone buzzes with a text: "All clear. They didn't see me. Missing you already x"
Relief floods through you as Charles pours wine and Lando queues up the show. You settle into the evening, letting their familiar banter wash over you, trying to act normal even as your skin still tingles from Max's touch.
"You seem different lately," Charles observes suddenly, studying your face. "Happier."
"Just excited for the new season," you deflect smoothly, a skill you've perfected over the past year.
"Mm," he doesn't look entirely convinced. "No secret boyfriend we should know about?"
You laugh, the sound only slightly strained. "Right, because that worked out so well last time."
"Last time was Max," Lando points out. "Thank god you're both over that whole thing."
If only they knew. But you just smile and take a sip of wine, letting them move on to discussing tomorrow's race.
As the evening progresses, the wine flows and the reality show plays in the background. You're carefully avoiding any topics that might make Charles or Lando suspicious, laughing a bit too loudly at their jokes.
Lando, ever restless, decides to raid your kitchen for snacks. "Where do you keep the good stuff?" he calls out, opening cupboards.
Your heart immediately races. You know exactly what might be lurking in those cupboards - Max's favorite energy drink, a Red Bull can he'd left behind last time he was here. You stand up quickly, "I'll get it for you-"
But Lando's already moving, pulling open the refrigerator door. "Found it!" he announces, then pauses. His hand emerges holding a Red Bull can, but something else catches his eye. A water bottle with a distinctive Red Bull Racing team logo sits next to it.
"Huh," Charles looks over. "Isn't this Max's water bottle?"
You feel the blood drain from your face. "Oh, um-" Your mind races, searching for an explanation. "I... must have picked it up from somewhere. You know how these things get mixed up."
Lando turns, one eyebrow raised. The playful smile slowly morphs into something more knowing. "Mixed up, huh?"
Charles is watching you now, that sharp observant look that made him such a good racing driver now focused entirely on you.
"Yeah, I must've picked it up by accident, didn't even realize."
Lando shrugs and cracks open a packet of chips, seemingly satisfied with your explanation. But Charles continues to study you with that piercing gaze that makes you want to squirm.
Keeping this a secret is becoming harder and harder.
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Silverstone, 2021
The English countryside blurs past your window as Max takes another curve, maybe a bit faster than necessary. It's nearly midnight, and you should both be resting before tomorrow's race, but these night drives have become your thing - the only time you can be truly alone during race weekends, truly free.
"You're showing off," you accuse, but you're smiling.
"Me? Never." He takes his eyes off the road for a second to grin at you, his hand finding yours across the console.
The radio plays softly in the background, some British pop song you don't know. The summer air rushing through the open windows carries the scent of grass and freedom. It feels perfect. Until it isn't.
It happens so fast - a deer appears out of nowhere, Max swerves to avoid it, but the road is narrow and dark. The tires lose grip on loose gravel, and suddenly you're spinning, the world turning into a kaleidoscope of shadows and panic.
The impact when it comes is brutal. Metal crunches, glass shatters, and everything goes still.
"YN?" Max's voice is tight with fear. "Baby, are you okay?"
You do a quick mental check. Everything hurts, but nothing seems broken. "I'm okay. You?"
"Fine." He's already trying to open his door, but it's jammed. The front of the car is wrapped around a tree, steam hissing from the hood. "Fuck. Fuck!"
Your phone is somewhere on the floor. When you retrieve it, the screen is cracked but working. "We need help."
"We can't call emergency services," Max says immediately. "It'll be all over the news in minutes."
He's right. You can already see the headlines: "Verstappen in Late Night Crash with Mercedes Boss's Daughter."
"Christian?" you suggest.
"He'll kill me. We have a race tomorrow." Max runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. "We need someone who can be discreet, who has the resources to handle this quietly, who-"
You both realize it at the same time.
"No," Max says.
"He's the only one who can help us without this becoming a scandal."
"YN, he's the last person-"
"Max." You reach for his hand. "We don't have a choice."
He knows you're right. With a resigned sigh, he nods.
Your hands shake slightly as you dial Lewis's number. It rings three times before he answers, voice groggy with sleep.
"Little Wolff? It's midnight, what-"
"Lewis, I need your help. And I need you to not ask questions."
There's a pause, then rustling as he presumably sits up. "Are you okay?"
"Yes, but… we're stuck. Had an accident on the back roads near Silverstone. We need help getting the car towed without anyone finding out."
There's a pause. "We?"
You close your eyes. "I'm with Max."
The silence that follows is deafening. "Send me your location. Don't move. I'll be there in twenty minutes."
True to his word, headlights appear eighteen minutes later. Lewis steps out of his car, taking in the scene - the wrecked vehicle, you and Max standing by the roadside, the unspoken truth of why you were together at this hour.
"Are you both alright?" He asks first, concern overriding any other emotions.
"Just bruised," you answer. "The car took the worst of it."
He nods, already on his phone. "Angela's on her way with a tow truck. She'll be discreet."
Max steps forward. "Lewis, I-"
"Don't." Lewis holds up a hand. "I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing it for her." He looks at you, something sad in his expression. "How long?"
"Since last year."
He lets out a low whistle. "Well, that explains a few things."
The wait for Angela is tense. Lewis keeps his distance, occasionally speaking quietly into his phone. Max doesn't let go of your hand, thumb rubbing circles on your skin.
When Angela arrives with the tow truck, she doesn't bat an eye at the situation. The car is loaded efficiently, and arrangements are made to have it repaired at a private garage Lewis trusts.
"I'll drive YN home," Lewis says, and it's not really a question.
Max tenses beside you, but you squeeze his hand. "It's safer this way," you whisper. "Less suspicious if anyone sees us."
He knows you're right, again. "Text me when you're home?"
"Promise."
The drive with Lewis is quiet at first. Then the storm pours down.
"Of all the stupid, reckless things," he mutters, running a hand over his face. "A year? You've been sneaking around with him for a year? Again?"
"Lewis-"
"No." He turns to face you, anger and worry warring in his expression. "Do you have any idea what could happen if this gets out? What your father would-"
"I don't care!" The words burst out louder than intended, making your head throb. "I don't care what anyone thinks anymore."
"Well, you should!" Lewis's voice rises to match yours. "This isn't some game, YN. This is your life, your career, your family-"
"You think I don't know that?" You bite back. "You think we haven't spent the last year terrified of exactly that? Hiding everything, sneaking around, lying to everyone we care about?"
"Then why?" He throws his hands up in frustration. "Why risk everything for him?"
"Because I love him!" The words echo in the car. You lower your voice, tears threatening to fall. "I love him, Lewis. And he loves me. Isn't that enough?"
Lewis' expression softens slightly, but the worry remains. "Love isn't always enough, YN. Not in this world. Not with everything at stake."
"It has to be," you whisper. "Because I can't do this anymore - pretending I don't feel what I feel, acting like my heart doesn't race every time he walks into a room. I'm tired of hiding."
"He's not good for you," Lewis says quietly. "You remember how broken you were after-"
"He was nineteen," you cut him off. "We were both kids, both scared. Things are different now."
"Are they?" his voice is gentle but firm. "Because from where I'm standing, you're still sneaking around in the middle of the night, still hiding from everyone. That doesn't sound different to me."
You sink back into your seat, suddenly exhausted. "I'm not asking for your approval, Lewis. I'm just asking for you to trust that I know what I'm doing."
"Do you? Because getting into a car accident at 2 AM doesn't exactly scream good decision-making."
"That wasn't-" you start to defend, but he holds up a hand.
"You shouldn't have been out there in the first place. These secret meetings, these late-night drives… it's not sustainable, YN."
"I know," you admit quietly. "We know. We've been talking about telling people, about doing this properly."
Lewis studies your face for a long moment. "And what happens when the media finds out? When your father finds out? When the pressure becomes too much and he runs again?"
"He won't." Your voice is firm despite your injuries. "He's not that scared kid anymore, Lewis. He knows what he wants now."
"And what is that?"
"Me." You meet Lewis's gaze steadily. "He wants me. All of me, no matter what it costs. And I want him."
Lewis sighs deeply, rubbing his temples. "I can't support this, YN. I've watched him hurt you too many times."
"I know," you say softly. "And I love you for wanting to protect me. But I'm not asking for your support. I'm just asking you not to make this harder than it already is, I know you're worried. But please… please don't tell anyone. Not yet. Let us do this our way."
He doesn't respond, just pulls up the car outside your hotel and unlocks it so you can get out.
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Silverstone, 2021. Race day
Your hands are still shaking slightly as you make your way through the paddock. Last night's crash left more than just physical bruises - the tension with Lewis, the close call, the reality of how fragile your secret is, it all weighs heavily.
The Mercedes garage is already buzzing with pre-race energy when you spot Lewis by his car, going through data with Peter. You wait until he's alone before approaching.
"Lewis," you say softly. "Can we talk?"
He glances around before responding, voice low. "There's nothing to talk about."
"Please. What you did last night-"
"Was a mistake," he cuts you off, finally turning to face you. "I should have called emergency services, protocol be damned."
"You know why we couldn't-"
"No, YN. You couldn't because you're sneaking around like teenagers. Do you have any idea what could have happened? If that tree had been a few inches to the left-"
"But it wasn't," you interrupt. "We're fine."
"Fine?" He scoffs. "You're both bruised, his car is wrecked, and I'm now complicit in your little romance."
"It's not a little romance-"
"Then what is it?" His voice rises slightly before he checks himself. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like the same pattern as before. You, him, secrets, lies."
"I told you last night - I love him."
"Love?" He lets out a bitter laugh. "Love doesn't hide, YN. Love doesn't put people in dangerous situations. Love doesn't-"
"Don't." Your voice cracks. "Don't pretend you understand what we're dealing with."
"Oh, I understand perfectly. You're playing girlfriend with my biggest rival while there's a championship at stake. You're risking everything - your reputation, your father's position, the team's integrity-"
"This isn't a game to me!" The words come out sharper than intended. A few mechanics glance your way, and you lower your voice. "This isn't about the championship or the team. This is about me and him."
"Nothing in this paddock is ever just about two people," Lewis says coldly. "You of all people should know that."
Before you can respond, Bono approaches. "Lewis, strategy meeting."
"I need to focus," Lewis tells you, his expression hardening. "I suggest you figure out where your loyalties lie before someone gets really hurt."
He walks away, leaving you standing there with a hollow feeling in your chest. Angela catches your eye, her expression sympathetic, and you wonder how much she knows.
The pre-race preparations pass in a blur. You go through the motions, smile when appropriate, but your mind keeps drifting to Max. You haven't seen him since Lewis dropped you off last night - you both agreed it was safer to stay apart until the race.
Then you're in the garage, watching the formation lap. Your father stands beside you, discussing something with the engineers, but their words sound distant.
Lap one. Copse Corner.
The contact happens so fast - Lewis's Mercedes alongside Max's Red Bull. The touch of wheels. Then Max's car is airborne, spinning, crashing into the barriers with devastating force.
The garage erupts in chaos. Screens show the replay from every angle. Your father is immediately in discussion with the stewards.
You can't breathe. Can't move. Your eyes are fixed on the smoking wreck of Max's car, willing him to move, to get out, to be okay.
"Racing incident," Toto argues. "Lewis had the line-"
Their voices fade to background noise as you watch the medical team reach the car. Your phone feels heavy in your pocket, but you can't check it - not here, not with everyone watching.
"YN," Angela touches your arm gently. "You look pale. Maybe some water?"
You follow her away from the garage, grateful for the excuse. As soon as you're out of sight, your composure breaks.
"I don't know if he's okay," you whisper, hands shaking. "I can't- I can't check my phone, I can't ask anyone, I can't-"
"Breathe," Angela steadies you. "Just breathe."
"I should be there. I should be with him. After last night, after everything-"
"I won't say anything," she promises quickly. "But YN... this is bigger than just keeping a secret now."
"I know," you admit. "God, I know. But I can't- I can't even ask if he's okay without raising suspicions."
The race continues. Lewis gets a ten-second penalty but fights back to win. The garage celebrates, and you have to join in, have to smile and cheer while your heart is somewhere else entirely.
Hours pass with no news. Social media is full of speculation, but nothing concrete. You catch snippets of conversation - "hospital for checks" and "conscious but shaken" - but nothing official.
It's torture, pretending everything is normal. Pretending you're just concerned in a general, professional way. Pretending last night never happened, that you don't still have bruises from a different crash, that your world isn't falling apart all over again.
Finally, after what feels like years, you manage to slip away to the Red Bull motorhome.
The motorhome is quiet when you enter. GP looks up from his laptop, surprise crossing his features.
"YN? You shouldn't-"
"Please," your voice breaks. "Please, I need to see him."
GP studies you for a long moment, then sighs. "Last door on the right. But be careful - he's pretty beaten up."
You find Max lying on the small bed, eyes closed but breathing steady. The room smells of medical cream and defeat.
"Max?" Your voice is barely a whisper.
His eyes open immediately, finding yours in the dim light. Despite everything, his lips curve into a small smile.
"Two crashes in twenty-four hours," he mumbles. "Must be some kind of record."
"Don't," tears spill over finally. "Don't joke. Not now."
"Come here," he tries to move over but winces.
"Careful," you rush to his side, perching carefully on the edge of the bed. "How bad is it?"
"Everything hurts," he admits. "But nothing's broken. Well, except my championship lead."
"I was so scared," your voice breaks. "When I saw the crash, and then I couldn't- I couldn't even ask if you were okay. I had to stand there and pretend like I wasn't terrified."
"Hey," he reaches for your hand, wincing at the movement. "I'm okay. Well, relatively speaking."
"This is my fault," you whisper. "If I hadn't called Lewis last night-"
"Stop," he squeezes your hand. "This had nothing to do with last night."
"Didn't it? He was so angry this morning, about us, about having to help us-"
"Lewis and I race hard regardless of personal feelings," Max says firmly. "What happened today was racing. Stupid, dangerous racing, but still racing."
You study his face in the dim light, cataloging every bruise, every sign of pain he's trying to hide, "Max, don't you think it's time?"
"Time?"
"To tell people. About us." The words rush out now that you've started. "I can't keep doing this - watching you race and pretending I don't care, hiding how I feel, lying to everyone we know. Today made me realize… if something had happened to you, really happened…"
He's quiet for a long moment, thumb tracing patterns on your hand. "What about your father?"
"I don't care anymore. Well, I do care, but… not more than I care about you. About us." You meet his eyes. "When the season's over. Before next year starts. We tell everyone."
"You're sure?"
"Are you?"
He pulls you closer, carefully, until you're lying beside him. "I'm sure if you are."
"Even with the championship? The media circus it'll cause?"
"Especially then." He kisses your forehead. "Today… when I hit that barrier, all I could think about was you. Not the championship, not the points, just… you. And how much time we've wasted hiding."
You curl into his side, mindful of his bruises. "So we're agreed? After Abu Dhabi, whatever happens with the championship…"
"We tell everyone." He lifts your chin to kiss you properly. "No more hiding."
"Promise?" You need to hear him say it.
"Promise," he pulls you closer, careful of both your injuries. "Besides, after last night's adventure and today's crash, I think we've filled our drama quota for a while."
You stay there, tangled together in the quiet darkness, both battered from different crashes but somehow still whole.
"I should go," you whisper eventually. "Before someone comes looking."
"One of the last times we'll have to say that," he reminds you.
"Promise me something else?"
"Anything."
"No more late-night drives for a while?"
He laughs, then grimaces in pain. "Deal. Although technically, both crashes were Lewis' fault."
"Max..."
"Kidding," he kisses your forehead softly. "Kind of."
You stand carefully, already missing his warmth. "Text me when you're feeling better?"
"Text me when you're home safe," he counters.
At the door, you turn back one last time. He's watching you with those eyes that made you fall in love twice - once when you were too young to know better, and again when you were old enough to know exactly what you were risking.
"Max?"
"Hmm?"
"I love you. Even when I have to pretend I don't."
His smile, despite the pain, lights up the dark room. "I love you too. Even when Lewis Hamilton tries to kill me. Twice in twenty-four hours."
You shake your head, but you're smiling as you slip out into the night. A few more months of hiding, of pretending, of careful distances and secret meetings. Then everything changes.
You just hope you're both ready for whatever comes next.
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Abu Dhabi, 2021
The final showdown. Equal points, one race to decide it all.
The morning of the race, you slip into the Red Bull garage before sunrise. Max is already there, going through his pre-race routine, but his face softens when he sees you.
"Couldn't sleep?" he asks, pulling you into his arms.
"Not really," you nestle into his chest, breathing in his familiar scent. "Too much going on in my head."
"Talk to me."
You pull back slightly to look at him. "I'm nervous. For you, for the race, for what comes after…"
"Hey," he cups your face gently. "Whatever happens today, we're in this together. Remember?"
"I know," you try to smile. "It's just… everything's going to change after today."
"Good changes," he kisses your forehead. "No more hiding, remember?"
You've had this conversation countless times over the past months, planning how you'll handle the revelation of your relationship. Your father still doesn't know, though you suspect he's noticed something's different.
"I brought you something," you reach into your pocket and pull out a small charm - a tiny silver racing car. "For luck."
Max takes it, turning it over in his hands with a soft smile. "You're my luck."
"That was incredibly cheesy," you laugh, but your heart swells.
"You love it," he pulls you closer, kissing you properly this time. "And you love me."
"I do," you whisper against his lips. "So much it scares me sometimes."
You stay like that for a while, wrapped in each other's arms, before reality intrudes again.
"I should go," you sigh. "There's something else I need to do before the race."
Max knows without asking. "Lewis?"
"Yeah," you bite your lip. "I can't let things end like this between us."
"Go," he squeezes your hand. "Just come back to me after?"
"Always."
Finding Lewis proves harder. He's been avoiding you since Silverstone, your relationship reduced to professional nods and carefully maintained distance. But you finally spot him in the Mercedes garage, alone with his thoughts.
"Lewis?" your voice is hesitant.
He tenses but doesn't turn around. "YN."
"I know you probably don't want to talk to me-"
"Then why are you here?"
You take a deep breath. "Because you're my brother, Lewis. Not by blood, but by choice. And I can't stand how things are between us."
He finally turns, and the pain in his eyes matches your own. "You chose him."
"I chose love," you step closer. "That doesn't mean I stopped caring about you."
"You could have told me," his voice cracks slightly. "Before Silverstone, before any of it. I thought we told each other everything."
"I was scared," you admit. "Scared of exactly this - losing you, losing my family, losing everything I've known."
"So instead you just lied? Snuck around?"
"I know it was wrong," tears prick at your eyes. "And I'm so sorry, Lewis. Not for loving him, but for hurting you. For breaking your trust."
He's quiet for a long moment, studying your face. "Does he make you happy? Really happy?"
"Yes," you whisper. "More than I ever thought possible."
Lewis sighs deeply, running a hand over his face. "Come here, little sister."
You practically fall into his arms, tears flowing freely now. He holds you tight, like when you were kids and he would protect you from everything.
"I'm still mad at you," he mumbles into your hair.
"I know."
"And I still think you're crazy."
"Probably."
"But," he pulls back to look at you, "I love you. And I miss you. And if he ever hurts you, I'll end his career so fast-"
You laugh through your tears. "There's my overprotective brother."
"Someone has to look out for you," he wipes your cheeks gently. "Even if you make it incredibly difficult."
"I'm sorry," you say again. "For everything."
"I know," he kisses your forehead. "We'll figure it out. After today."
"About that…" you hesitate. "We're planning to go public. After the race."
Lewis nods slowly. "I figured something like that was coming. The way you look at each other isn't exactly subtle."
"You noticed?"
"YN, everyone with eyes has noticed. They're just too scared of your father to mention it."
You both laugh, and for a moment it feels like before - easy, comfortable, safe.
"Lewis?" you grab his hand. "Whatever happens today… I'm proud of you. Always have been, always will be."
He squeezes your hand. "Right back at you, little Wolff. Even if you have terrible taste in men."
"Hey!"
"I'm just saying, there are other drivers-"
"Goodbye, Lewis," you start walking away, but you're smiling.
"YN?" he calls after you. "For what it's worth… he better know how lucky he is."
An hour later, you're standing in the Mercedes garage, heart in your throat, watching the screens as though your life depends on it. In a way, it does. Six years of loving Max in secret, two years of running away from it all, and now here you are - watching the man you love fight your father's driver for the championship in the most intense finale you've ever witnessed.
When Nicholas Latifi crashes, everything changes. The safety car comes out, and suddenly the garage erupts with activity. Your father's voice cuts through the chaos, sharp and authoritative as he argues with race control. You've never seen him like this - the usual composed Toto Wolff replaced by someone desperately fighting against what feels like destiny shifting.
"No, no, no, Michael, that is so not right!" Your father's voice booms through the garage as the lapped cars are allowed through. You flinch at the fury in his tone, at the way he slams his headset down.
The final lap is unbearable. You watch Lewis getting hunted down by Max on fresh tires. Your nails dig into your palms, torn between family loyalty and the love you've kept hidden for so long.
When Max makes the pass, when he crosses the line as World Champion, the Mercedes garage falls silent. The contrast between the Red Bull celebrations on screen and the devastation around you is stark.
Your father looks destroyed, a mixture of anger and disbelief on his face. But it's Lewis who breaks your heart - the way he sits in his car, processing what just happened, the dignity with which he eventually emerges to congratulate Max.
You find Lewis in the drivers room a few hours later, away from the cameras. His eyes are red, his shoulders slumped in a way you've never seen before.
"Lew," your voice breaks.
He looks up, and suddenly you're both crying. You wrap your arms around him as he breaks down.
"It wasn't supposed to end like this," he whispers.
"I know," you hold him tighter. "I know."
You stay with him, through the protests, through the appeals, through the obligatory congratulations he has to give. You stay because he's family, because he needs you, because some things are more important than celebration.
Through it all, you catch glimpses of Max - being crowned champion, celebrating with his team, searching the crowd with eyes that keep finding you. But you stay where you're needed most.
Hours pass before you make it to Max's hotel. The celebrations are still going on somewhere, but he's in his room when you arrive, pacing like a caged animal.
"Where were you?" he demands as soon as you enter.
"I was with Lewis."
His face darkens. "Of course you were. Consoling the Mercedes garage while I won my first championship."
"Max, don't."
"Don't what? Don't be upset that my girlfriend wasn't there to celebrate with me? That she was too busy comforting the opposition?"
"That 'opposition' is my family!" Your voice rises to match his. "Lewis is like my brother, my father is devastated-"
"Your father?" He laughs bitterly. "The same father you've been lying to for years? The one we're supposedly telling about us after this race?"
"Are you seriously doing this right now?"
"When else am I supposed to do it? When you're ready? Because I've been waiting for you to be ready since 2015!"
The words hit like physical blows. "That's not fair. You know why I left in 2018, the way you cut me off like I was nothing, it tore me apart."
"Yeah, because it got too hard. Because loving me was too complicated." He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. "And now here we are again. I just won the World Championship, and where were you? With them."
"They're my family!"
"And what am I?" He steps closer, eyes intense. "What are we, YN? Because right now it feels like I'm still your dirty little secret."
"That's not-"
"Then prove it. Let's go tell Toto right now. Let's end this charade."
"Today? After everything that happened? Are you insane?"
"Why not today? When will it be convenient enough for you? When will loving me not conflict with your perfect Mercedes family?"
Tears are falling freely now. "You're being cruel."
"No, I'm being honest. Finally." He sits heavily on the bed. "I love you. I've loved you through everything - through you leaving, through you coming back, through all the hiding and sneaking around. But I can't do this anymore."
Your heart stops. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying I want all of you. Not just the parts that are convenient, not just the stolen moments between races. I want to celebrate with you when I win, hold you when I crash, build a life with you in the open." He looks at you, and you see the tears in his eyes too. "But I don't think you want that. Not really. Not enough to risk everything else."
"Max…"
"Go home, YN. Go console your father. Go be the perfect Mercedes daughter." His voice breaks slightly. "Just… don't come back unless you're ready to choose me. All of me. The rival, the champion, everything."
You stand there, frozen, both of you crying. Everything you've built, every secret moment, every whispered promise, feels like it's crumbling around you.
"I love you," you whisper.
"I know." He doesn't look at you. "That's never been our problem."
As you stand in the doorway of Max's hotel room, the weight of seven years of love, secrets, and choices bears down on your shoulders. The championship trophy gleams on the table behind him, a symbol of everything he's achieved and everything that's torn you apart.
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leclercskiesahead · 3 months ago
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Toro Rosso 2015 is very funny because people would say “aww actually it’s nice having 2 young rookies on the grid because their youthful energy is refreshing” while Carlos was there with his unruly hair and sideburns growing into his beard like a 30 year old.
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vermiltondata · 1 month ago
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2015: "paddock baby" versus two-time champion
click here to return to the master post :).
March 15th, 2015. Max becomes the youngest F1 driver ever, racing for Toro Rosso at the Australian Grand Prix. Without doubt, his entrance sparked discussions. But what we want to know is what Lewis thought of this scrawny seventeen-year-old Dutch boy.
Lewis: You were born in '97?
Max: Yeah.
Lewis: Jeez. I signed my first contract with McLaren in '97. I don't have any words of wisdom. He'll learn on his way.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ─────────
Clearly, Lewis was flippant about this “paddock baby”. He was a two-time champion by then; he had nothing to do with rookies, and, as Max has mentioned in the modern day, times were different. Rookies didn’t have anyone to look after them or help them. The reply may seem quite bland to some––almost mean––but Max smiles, and the moment passes.
Throughout the season, there is little interaction between the two. Max is gaining experience and learning every race while Lewis is busy fighting Nico for the championship. But there are occasions where they can be seen together.
Keep in mind the few moments they are together are during press conferences. This is because they had no reason to interact, and Max DNFed 5 times, reducing his chances of a good position and thus a reason to talk to Lewis.
June 5-7th, 2015. The Canadian GP takes place.
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Max and Lewis sit side by side at the 2015 Canadian Grand Prix press conference, looking onwards. Max looks rather bored of this spectacle; as does Lewis.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ─────────
August 21-23, 2015. The Belgian GP takes place.
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Max looks at Lewis during the press conference. Lewis, of course, is oblivious.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ─────────
October 30th to November 1st, 2015. The Mexican GP takes place. After a season of growth, Max finally seems more confident in the media. And this is, one can argue, the first 3344 crumb.
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Max has a rather positive but cordial opinion of Lewis (I have a video as well, but Tumblr is not nice).
It is a shame that there is not a lot to show for this year, but it gets better. If you have anything regarding 3344 from this year, show us!
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j0shm0 · 3 months ago
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Max Verstappen All-Time Win Record
Next on our docket for the All-Time Win Record analysis is the undisputed GOAT of F1 in the 20's, the dominate prodigy, the man with the right mix of Senna and Schumacher, THE Flying Dutchman himself….Max Verstappen. As a reminder, this series was kickstarted for me last summer when F1admins tweeted an image which should his All-Time Win Record, but they ordered it by color and not by Year.
Max started his first full year in 2015 racing in the (even then) younger development team of Toro Rosso alongside Carlos Sainz. It was not a bad start for him at all (we put too much pressure on rookies these days), over the 19 races of 2015 he DNF'd 5 times but of the remaining 14 only finished outside the points 4 times which gave him 10 points finishes landing him 12th on the grid with a total of 49 points. In May 2016 in only his second year he made the move to the Main Team and has been a part of Red Bull Racing ever since; which was alongside Daniel Ricciardo, but also begun Max's tour of dismasting his teammates. In the Red Bull is where he would finish 5th overall with 204 points and get on the podium 7 times…including his first of many Race Wins. Quick note on that First podium, not only was it his first Race Win, but it was also in the 5th Race of the year, in Spain, IN HIS FIRST EVER RED BULL RACING OFFICIAL RACE; meaning Max has come out swinging and owned this team since day one.
Following this rise to the main team, max had a couple of rough years, with 2017 being his hardest. He would finish 6th overall with a record 7 DNF's and only reaching the podium 4 times (two of which were wins) getting him a total of 168 points. With the amount of time it takes to broker deals and get things established and setup, it can be seen that 2017s reliability issues for Max is ultimately what pushed the team to leave Renault and switch to Honda starting in 2019. Where just like with Senna and Mclaren in mid 80s, Honda partnerships in 2019 on has made it so that Max has never finished a year lower than 3rd since, and 4 consecutive World Drivers Championship from 2021-2024.
Rain or Shine, Legend or Rookie, Mechanical Issues or Perfect Setup, Max has proven time and time again why he is one of the strongest pure drivers on the grid right now.
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leclerqueensainz · 1 year ago
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FRENESI (C.S 55) (EN VERSION)
PROLOGUE
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Pairing: Carlos Sainz Jr. X Louise Evans ( OC)
Synopsis: Carlos Sainz is a scoundrel. That's what all the women he's slept with — and the list is not short — always say after having their hearts destroyed by the Spanish heartthrob. Carlos Sainz Jr. is the worst scoundrel of all time. But worse than being a scoundrel is liking to be a scoundrel. But even the worst scoundrel can have his heart tamed. And when Louise, Carlos' best friend, asks him to give her a baby, Sainz finds himself caught up in a frenzy.
Long dormant feelings resurface, and Carlos realizes that winning the world drivers' championship won't be his only challenge.
WARNING: THIS IS A +18 STORY and contains: Sex scenes and explicit sexual language, reproduction kink, swearing and a few other things that I may or may not be forgetting.
ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE!
Carlos Sainz is a scoundrel. That's what all the women he's slept with - and the list is not short - always say after having their hearts destroyed by the Spanish heartthrob. Carlos Sainz Jr. is the worst scoundrel of all time. But worse than being a scoundrel is liking to be a scoundrel. Don't get me wrong, Carlos cannot be considered a bad guy in general; he is just a millionaire playboy who can't keep it in his pants when it comes to a beautiful woman. However, in his defense, he has always been a thoughtful lover during sex. He cares not only about receiving pleasure but also about extracting it from his "victims." He doesn't mind spending hours and hours pleasuring a wet pussy, or fulfilling a strange fetish so that his nighttime company can reach the highest peak of pleasure. In Carlos's mind, if his partner is screaming or crying for more, then it's worth it. However, being the cause of the greatest sexual delight for women also ends up contributing to his reputation as a womanizer, dog, scoundrel, heartbreaker, etc. So, it's no wonder that he is taken aback by his best friend Louise's request.
However, being the cause of the greatest sexual delight for women also ends up contributing to his reputation as a womanizer, dog, scoundrel, heartbreaker, etc. So, it's no wonder that he is taken aback by the request of his best friend Louise. — You want me to what?! — He asks, stunned. — I want you to impregnate me. — She says, biting her lips and staring at him with dark Bambi-like eyes. Carlos breathes astonished, unsure of how to respond. He looks around the living room of Louise's apartment, searching for any sign of a hidden camera. Dios! This must be a joke. Carlos is aware that his best friend hasn't been doing well in terms of mental health. But now it's like she's completely gone mad. Louise is Carlos's oldest friend. They met when Carlos joined Toro Rosso in 2015, while Louise had just started interning in the communications department at Mercedes. They would constantly bump into each other in the paddock, with her always behind Lewis and Nico, and Carlos trying his best to prove his talent in his rookie year in the category. During that time, it was just looks and nods as a greeting between the two, but a few months later, the first signs of flirting from the driver began. Always a compliment about what Louise was wearing, or about how her work was impeccable, even though he wasn't exactly sure what the girl did. However, Louise always rejected Carlos and said she was there not to flirt with playboy drivers but to seize the incredible opportunity that could greatly boost her professional career. And that was the rule she stuck to firmly until Sainz gave up and they both got closer to being two rookies who needed someone to trust. As the season progressed, what was initially just pleasant company for each other progressed into a solid friendship, and soon enough, the two were inseparable, of course, except when they were focused on their respective jobs.
This brings us to this moment, with Carlos staring at his best friend as if she had grown two heads on her shoulders. Carlos is neither dumb nor blind; it's obvious that he finds Louise attractive, and only he and God know how much he has fantasized about taking this woman to bed. But giving her a child - as tempting and sinful as the thought of hearing her moan and be filled with his seed underneath him may be the hottest thing he has ever imagined - is certainly the peak of madness. — Have you smoked Lando's weed again? — Carlos asks, as that is the only explanation that comes to his mind. — No! I am completely sober, well, aside from a few glasses of wine. But I only had them to gather the courage I needed to ask you. — She says plainly, leaving Carlos even more terrified. Standing up, Carlos took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand while the other rested on his hip. Louise, watching from the sofa where her friend had been sitting just minutes before, tries her best not to laugh at the situation. In Louise's mind, what she is asking for is quite simple. She is 27 years old, turning 28 in a few months. Throughout all these years of her existence, it seemed like something very serious was influencing her love life, as none of her relationships lasted longer than a year. Even Carlos had had longer relationships, with a fling here and there, but still, longer ones. Louise has always dreamed of having her own family, and the maximum time she has given herself to have children is by the age of 30. However, over the years, she realized that the only man who remains in her life after getting to know her is Carlos.
So when she finally broke up with her twentieth boyfriend, Roy, who was a nice guy but seemed more excited about plants than about her in lingerie, she decided to skip all the hassle of finding the perfect guy and instead continue her lineage with the help of her best friend. Of course, if he's willing to go along with this madness.
Louise isn't ugly she's very aware of it, with the amount of compliments she gets when she walks in the paddock or notifications from strangers and acquaintances in her social media DMs, she can't deny it. However, even though she's highly coveted, she hasn't found any man good enough to procreate with. She wants her children to have good genes, and that's not asking for too much.
She also knows Carlos isn't the most honorable guy in the world; God knows she's judged her friend as a gigolo dozens of times, but she loves Carlos. And he has great genes.
Carlos is handsome, very handsome, actually, a spectacle of a man. With thick, dark hair like a Disney prince, large eyes deep brown, a long nose, full lips, and of course, a perfect body. Carlos Sainz Jr. is truly a hottie. Does he have a questionable character? Yes! But he's still a hottie.
However, beyond the beauty the man possesses, what pleases Louise the most about Sainz is his dedication to everything he considers important, and that majestically includes their friendship. Louise would trust her life to Carlos with her eyes closed.
Carlos has always treated her very well, even after all the rejections she had given him during the beginning of their friendship.
He has always been kind, and attentive, and moved heaven and earth for her to have everything she needs, whenever she needs it. Does she want raspberry ice cream that's specifically sold in a city thousands of kilometers away from where they are? Don't worry, Carlos's assistant can take a jet and go get it for her; after all, it's not like Tina has anything more important to do than fetch ice cream from the middle of nowhere. All good.
Or when Louise has a sudden breakup with a guy she really liked, Carlos doesn't mind staying up all night listening to her cry on an endless call, even if it's been a tough day of racing and his body is begging for a good night's sleep. No, Carlos would stay with her. He would listen to her speak ill of Roy, Ben, Jude, Lorenzo, Michael, or any other bastard who had hurt her best friend's heart.
To outsiders, Carlos Sainz was a heartless womanizer. But to Louise, he's the nicest and kindest man she's ever met. And secretly, that might have also contributed to none of her relationships going anywhere.
Roy would never send an assistant flying miles away just for her to get a damn ice cream. To be fair, Roy didn't have an assistant, let alone a jet, but there have been times when he refused to go to a bakery around the corner from her apartment to buy the sweet bread she was craving. They fought, she told him to leave, and an hour later, an exhausted Carlos with tousled hair showed up at her door carrying a suitcase and a box of bread in every flavor for her.
And it's no surprise to anyone that Ben wouldn't stay up all night to hear her talk about a silly series or movie she watched during one of her long trips. After all, Ben is a very busy lawyer who doesn't have time for nonsense, only to sleep with the 19-year-old secretary who had started working at his firm. A curse, a middle finger, and three hours later, Carlos shows up with a bottle of wine and the hoodie he knows she loves and watches all the movies and series she wants.
None of these jerks would be good enough to do these things for Louise, only Carlos. Carlos is a womanizer of women and a great pilot for the world, but for Louise is the only person who really matters.
It turns out there will always be comparisons. No matter how many people she dates or tries to create her story with, no man or woman will ever be like Carlos. What they have is something unique and special, which goes beyond the barrier of friendship or even a romantic relationship. They were simply born to be.
For all these reasons and many more, she had made up her mind. Carlos Sainz Vázquez de Castro Cenamor Rincón Rebollo Virto Moreno de Aranda Don Per Urrielagoiria Pérez del Pulgar Jr. will be the father of her future child. Well, that's if he accepts and the way the Spaniard is looking at her, she might need a few more things to convince him.
— Carlos, please! - She says, pouting, which for a woman of almost 30 is ridiculous, but every effort will be worth it.
— Dios, Louise! No!— he says, running his hands through his hair in an exasperated way. - -You can't just ask me to put a baby inside you just because you're in a crisis!
Carlos throws himself back on the sofa next to her.
— This isn't a crisis! — He looks at her with an arched eyebrow. — Yes, it may be a crisis, but Carlos, I'm going to be 30!
— Yes! In two years, Louise! — He grabs her shoulders. - You're still young and you're a sensible woman, I mean, at least you used to be. — Louise digs her nails into Carlos' bare thigh, making him cry out in pain.
— I'm still sensible, Sainz! And that's exactly why I want you to get me pregnant! — Louise shouts, getting up from her seat on the sofa and standing in front of the pilot.
Even though Carlos is fighting hard, he's still a man and his flesh is weak. He evaluates every inch of his body covered only by a T-shirt, which he happened to know very well because it was his Real Madrid shirt.
— Come on, Cabron! Don't tell me you don't find me attractive. Do you know how many people would love to put a baby in me? — She asks and leans in close to his ear. — It's been eight years of you wanting to have sex with me, Carlitos. And today I'm begging you to throw me on that bed, or that sofa, or whatever the hell place you want. I want you to take off my clothes and fuck me until I have a part of you growing inside me. - Her lips lightly touch his lobe.
Carlos swallows dryly, the images of him bending his best friend over in every corner of the house, making her moan as he thrusts inside her without stopping until every drop of his cum drips into her... Oh! Dios!
Louise realizes that her goal of seduction is working with the way Carlos tenses up underneath her.
— Come on, Carlos... — A kiss below his ear — We could do this so well... - Another kiss on the jaw. — Imagine a mini part of both of us running around... - She licks his neck.
Carlos closes his eyes and lets himself imagine the scene. A mini him, or a mini Louise running around everywhere. He takes her or him to the paddock to watch him or her race a Formula 1 car. He allows himself to be even more daring and imagines not only the child already born, but also Louise pregnant with her second child, wearing a loose summer dress, with a big round belly and...
Carlos gasps and involuntarily tilts his head to the side so that Louise has more access to his skin. One of her hands moves slowly up his firm, dark-haired thigh. The sharp nail slowly scratched the sensitive skin, so close to his cock. Just a few more centimeters and...
— You don't even have to be his father if you don't want to. I can take care of everything, he won't even need to know you're the father and...
And then came the bucket of cold water. Of course, it's only because she wants a baby. Carlos feels a bit stupid for letting himself believe for a moment that the idea of making a family with him was what Louise wanted. She doesn't want a family with Carlos, of course not. She just wants him to be the father of her child.
Carlos quickly gets up and throws Louise onto the sofa. His mind was racing and a bizarre burning in his chest.
— What the fuck, Louise! You've really lost your mind! — He paces back and forth frantically.
— Carlos, what's the matter? - She gets up from the sofa too. — I thought you wanted me to be happy!
Carlos stops for a moment, his mouth tasting bitterly of anger. How dare Louise say that? Carlos has already made it more than obvious that he would do anything to make her happy. He would give up almost everything he owned for her, even set fire to Madrid if necessary!
He really thought that this was something that wouldn't even cross her mind. But this? Just being the cock that will empty inside her so that she can have a fucking baby — all babies forgive him - and then wanting him to act as if she were nothing to him, that's too much. Out of the question.
— If you want to play the black widow, Louise, you should know better than to think I'm the wrong guy for it. - He says, grabbing his jacket and turning towards the door without looking at her. — I don't care what anyone says about me. I'm everything women say and then some, but even so, I'm not an idiot who shirks my responsibilities. I expected more from you.
He opens the door and leaves.
Standing in the middle of the living room, Louise looks at the door her best friend has just left. She's confused, but above all, sorry.
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boxboxblog · 7 months ago
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Driver Profiles: Yuki Tsunoda
Updated December 2024
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Name: Yuki Tsunoda
Age: 24
Nationality: Japanese
Years in F1: 4 (AlphaTauri/VCARB 2021-Present)
Number: 22
WDCs: N/A
Driving Style: One of the newest drivers on track, Tsunoda is known for his aggression, raw speed, and temper. He drives in an extremely modern way, compared to many of the older drivers who still drive with traces of more classic styles. He tends to pull bold overtakes and does a lot of late-braking maneuvers, and this allows him to be very assertive in wheel-to-wheel situations. On the negative side, Tsunoda's temper and aggression leads him make mistakes, and he has been criticized for his lack of consistency. This aggression also means he pushes the car very hard, and wears out his tires fast.
History:
Tsunoda was born to a racing family, with a father racing in the Gymkhana Car Competition in Japan. He grew up around the track, and started karting when he was 5 years old. In 2006 he won the series championship at the Nakai Inner Circuit, where he had watched his father race. He started professional carting in 2010, joining the JAF Junior Karting Championship, before moving to the regional class in 2013 (winning that series) and to the national class in 2014. In 2015 he placed second in the All Japan Karting Championship FS125 Class.
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(Young Tsunoda in his karting days)
In 2016, Tsunoda graduated from Honda's Suzuka Circuit Racing School in the advanced formula class and became a member of the Honda Formula Dream Project. In the same year he made his single-seater debut in the F4 Japanese Championship  in a one-off event in Suzuka. At this race he earned his 1st podium. 2017 was when he started his first full season in the F4 Japanese Championship while also competing in the regional championship. He would go on to get 1st in the regional and 3rd in the national championship. 2018 Tsunoda would continue in Japanese F4, and win the championship with 7 race wins.
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(Tsunonda in the F4 Japanese Championship series)
2018 Tsunoda would join the Red Bull Junior program after Honda became engine suppliers for the F1 team. He joined the FIA Formula 3 Championship that year, winning one race in Monza and achieving 9th in the standings. Tsunoda also competed in the Euroformula Open Championship during this time, and finished 4th in the standings. Early 2020 it was announced that Tsunoda would be moving up to Formula 2 for the 2020 season. Before that, he competed in the 2020 Toyota Racing Series and placed 4th.
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(Tsunoda on top step of podium during F3, along with future RB teammate Liam Lawson, left)
His 2020 F2 debut was a relatively positive for a rookie, with some high points finishes and podiums, but also a few races where he scored very low. He finished his season in 3rd. During that season he test drove his first F1 car, for Toro Rosso/AlphaTauri. He would go on to be announced for the 2021 AlphaTauri lineup.
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(Tsunoda during F2 days)
His first year at AlphaTauri was a mix between good and bad. While he had some fantastic results (highest being 4th) he also had some very poor ones, often finishing outside of points and being our paced by his teammate Pierre Gasly. However, he was near universally praised for his rookie season, with the F1 Technical Director calling it the best rookie season he had seen in a few. 2022, however, was a difficult year for Tsunoda, usually finishing outside of points position. His best finish was 10th, and this race ended a streak of zero points finishes. He was outpaced by his teammate once again, and would finish 17th in the championship
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(Tsunoda and Gasly in their AlphaTauri's)
He would be retained by AlphaTauri for 2023, partnering Nyck de Vries (who would be replaced by Daniel Riccardo halfway), and would have another difficult year. He would score low points a handful of times throughout the season. the most positive moment for Tsunoda was in Abu Dhabi, where he led the race for a short time, his first lead ever. Unfortunately he would drop down to 8th, but still showed improvement.
In 2024 AlphaTauri rebranded to RB (often called VCARB) and Tsunoda was retained. He has had a more positive year, outpacing teammate Daniel Riccardo (who was replaced by Liam Lawson after the Singapore GP), but still regularly ends up outside of the points. In the 2024 Japanese GP he would happily finish in 10th, becoming the first Japanese driver since 2012 to score points on home soil. The most positive aspect of that year for Tsunoda is that his qualifying pace has been stellar, regularly making it into Q3. He finished the season 12th in the standings.
He is set to remain with RB for the 2025 season.
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(Tsunoda with the 2024 VCARB car)
Major Races:
2021 Bahrain GP - His debut race in F1, he finished in 9th scoring some points for his team. He made some fantastic overtakes during the race, including a memorable last-lap one on Lance Stroll. It was an impressively confident race despite his inexperience.
2021 Abu Dhabi - His highest finish ever of 4th, he took advantage of the chaos, overtaking on his teammate to take the higher finish of the two AlphaTauri's.
2022 Emilia Romagna GP - One of his strongest race performances yet, he finished in 7th after multiple bold, yet crafty, overtakes. He showed his evolving race craft and willingness to push the limit in a lesser car.
2022 Spanish GP - While his finish was not fantastic (only 10th) he showed remarkably improved composure compared to previous races. This displayed how Tsunoda was evolving as a racer, and how he overcomes his main weakness to make his race craft better.
2024 Japanese GP - A happy race for Japan after Tsunoda became the first points scorer on home soil since 2012. While he did finish just inside the points (10th), it was a monumental day for Japanese fans and Tsunoda.
Cheers,
-B
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albonium · 11 days ago
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carlos giving max a taste of his own medecine is hilarious. my beloved 2015 toro rosso rookies
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race-week · 2 months ago
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hey al! hope ur enjoying the last of the break.
two quick questions for you:
are there any drivers you’ve changed your opinion on in the last few years? drivers you thought were slow but turned out fast, drivers you thought were wdc material but fell off, particular strengths and weaknesses that have changed etc
and: which drivers do you think have made the best/worst career decisions?
thanks!
This is a long answer
1) I don’t think so…
I don’t really find myself forming too strong opinions on the drivers, particularly their personalities but also things like whether they are good/fast or not.
When I think about the drivers I kind of think about their strengths and weaknesses somewhat independently to each other, so for instance I might think “X driver is good at racecraft” or “Y driver is skilled at tyre management” and these opinions may change overtime, but most of the time it’s just due to a driver developing their skill set.
And when it comes to rookies, I typically try to give them a season to a season and a half before considering their strengths and weaknesses.
2) in recent years,
Best: Sainz, stay with me here. He started in a Toro Rosso, from there was loaned to Renault for 4 races and then spent the following season there too (2018 Renault finished P4, Sainz P10), 2019 he goes to McLaren (McLaren P4, Sainz P6), in 2020 still at McLaren (P3, Sainz P6), 2021 he moves to Ferrari (P3, Sainz P5) and stays until 2024 getting wins and podiums. From 2015 until 2024 he jumped his way up from a lower midfield team to one of the front runners via a series of good performances and career moves.
Even the decision to go to Williams for 2025 was a good decision when you weigh up the other options, both Mercedes and Red Bull had ‘free’ seats for 2025 however in both cases he likely would have ended up as a ‘placeholder’ and would end up out of a seat again in a year or two.
Another clear example of good career moves is Hamilton’s move to Mercedes in 2013, however the reason I’ve focused on Sainz is the fact that he’s made multiple moves that have aided his career, like stepping stones.
As for worst career decisions, I don’t know for sure, I think Ricciardo made a poor decision going from Renault to McLaren, and in general Alonso made a series of decisions that hampered him
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bunnytalksf1 · 7 months ago
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Verstappen, the achilles' heel of Red Bull Racing
NOTE: this post ignores (for the most part) the consequences of Horner's sexual assault / harassment allegations. These also play a role in the power struggle at Red Bull, but since I am taking a big picture look at the politics and teammate pairings of the team from 2016-now, Horner's allegations only play a small role because the public knowledge on them is limited.
Max Verstappen joined the Formula One paddock in 2015, pairing Carlos Sainz in Toro Rosso at the age of seventeen years old, making him the youngest Formula One driver to start a race.
He was never going to be just any rookie. This was a child, who, at the time, had incredibly limited single seater experience - a few starts in Formula Euro, and karting championships to his name. On the other side of the garage, Sainz wasn't massively experienced, either, and both experienced some bad luck, but Verstappen came out on top.
In 2016, an ultimatum was posed to Ricciardo and Kyvat, who were the drivers in Red Bull Racing: the driver that performs better will stay, Verstappen is coming in. Now 18, Verstappen was promoted mid-season to Red Bull Racing alongside Daniel Ricciardo, and amongst the cries that Red Bull had made a mistake, he won his first race with the team in Spain, 2016, after both Rosberg and Hamilton crashed out.
From then on, his talent was widely recognised and praised, despite the mistakes he made as he tried to find the limits of the car and the media. He quickly became competitive enough to challenge the much more experienced Ricciardo, and arguably enough to chase him from the team, signing with Renault for the 2019 season.
But it's 2024, now. Why go back to 2018? Why go back at all?
The Red Bull Racing junior program has always been one of the most ruthless. You perform, or you're out. There's no patience afforded, and their drivers sink or swim. The thing is that the drivers that DO swim tend to be some of the most talented in the sport: Ricciardo, Vettel, Verstappen. And in 2019, with Ricciardo Renault-bound, Red Bull suddenly had a big gap to fill in their team, with no one particularly suitable to fill it.
Pierre Gasly got the callup from Toro Rosso, where he'd been a full-time driver for one season, in 2018. Alex Albon replaced him in Toro Rosso. He underperformed hugely compared to the much more experienced and talented Verstappen, resulting in a mid-season swap between him and Albon (who was in his first season in the sport). This swap, though, was not only motivated by a potential performance gain for Red Bull, but by the majority Thai ownership of RBR, who were eager for Albon's promotion, and Horner ultimately reaped the rewards for this - it becomes more important later.
Gasly performed much, much better this time around in Toro Rosso, and there were cries for him to return, although Horner and Marko both stuck to their guns (and likely to investment pathways) and kept Albon for 2020, where his performance was bad enough to drop him.
Ricciardo blindsided the team by leaving them. Horner himself had said at the time that they put everything on the table to keep him, "everything he asked for". Ricciardo's move, meanwhile, was at least partially motivated by not wanting to be the next Mark Webber, caught unaware by a young prodigy and relegated to being a number two driver whilst he won championships. Red Bull had no talent in the wings worthy of being paired with Verstappen, and it showed, until they signed Sergio Perez from Racing Point (now Aston Martin) for the 2021 season, where Verstappen won his first championship against Lewis Hamilton. Over the course of the season, Perez played the ultimate team game, defending for Verstappen and trying to take points off Hamilton to help in the fight for the drivers', which Red Bull sorely wanted to win.
Perez was under no illusions about what his role was in the team: support Verstappen, even, at times, at the cost of his own race. A solid and dependable number two driver to back up their prodigy. And to some extent, it worked: Red Bull have been constructors' champions two years running (22, 23) and secured a 1-3 finish in the drivers' in 22 and a 1-2 in 23, for the first time in Red Bull's history.
Cut to January 2024: Christian Horner, the Team Principal of Red Bull Racing, is accused of alleged (but very likely) sexual harassment and assault against a member of staff. From this, a power struggle that was previously just under the surface of the team's operations suddenly begins to boil over. The Austrian side of Red Bull reportedly wants Horner fired, but Horner takes them to court and with the backing of the Thai side, which owns 51% of the company, Horner is allowed to keep his job. What has followed, throughout 2024, is the culmination of everything that this team has done since 2016, leading to now what is very likely to be the loss of the constructors' title, and perhaps even P2 in that title race.
Team performance fluctuates all the time, so maybe this shouldn't be that surprising. Red Bull were always going to lose a few key players in terms of their engineering team: brain drain is a very real thing, and Mercedes already experienced it in the wake of their dominant era in 14-20. However, losing Newey was preventable, and has seemed to hurt them in a big way, pretty immediately. It's debateable whether losing Newey has contributed most to the loss of performance, a technical directive on asymmetrical braking, or whether they were on the wrong development path this whole time and its only become apparent as other teams (McL, Merc, Ferrari) have begun to find the right one. But either way, a team and driver combination that has looked utterly dominant and unbeatable throught most of 2022, and all of 2023, has fallen to P5/P6 drives, with no clear idea of when they'll get back to challenging for wins, with a championship in the balance.
The politics in Red Bull have become more and more toxic, too, sprawling over into VCARB, where Tsunoda seems helpless in the power struggle between Marko (who seemingly wants him promoted to RBR), and Horner, who has been fairly vocal about wanting Ricciardo back in that seat. As a result, Tsunoda and Ricciardo are subject to seat swap rumours every race weekend, and Tsunoda seems cursed to rot in Red Bull's junior team without chance of promotion given Horner's unwillingness to test him in Red Bull's cars. With Perez underperforming, and a stalemate in their own junior team, RBR have no second driver. Verstappen is all they have.
Perhaps this is part of the reason that he's Red Bull's biggest weakness, whilst also being their greatest strength. For a while, they've relied on his talent and his skill, and neglected building their other talent, sticking to the sink-or-swim brutality that created him. Outside of Red Bull's own junior program, RBR has reportedly held (for the most part, informal) talks with Leclerc (22), Norris (23), and Alonso (24), all three of which have turned them down. Whilst all three have reasons for not wanting to leave their current teams where they're prioritised and on an upward trajectory, there's definitely an argument to be made about Verstappen being formidable to go up against and scaring drivers away from partnering him - he arguably has ended the top-flight careers of Ricciardo, Gasly, Albon and Perez in his time at Red Bull. It's made filling that second driver seat a complicated task, much like Mercedes during Hamilton's era of dominance, except they had Bottas.
But recently, Verstappen has been Red Bull Racing's weakness in the development race, too. Allegedly, the current negative trajectory of the RB20 began in Barcelona 2023, when Perez began to struggle with the car, but the engineers simply did not realise, since Verstappen was still winning, and by big margins, with the same car.
Just as a side note: I'm not sure this is entirely true. All teams play the PR game, and retroactively trying to make its drivers look better is something that I wouldn't put past Red Bull. The car being on the wrong development path also doesn't mean much in a) early stages of said development path and b) when literally every single other team (minus maybe McL at the end of the 2023 season) is on an an worse development path.
So, if we take these comments at face value, then Verstappen's ability to drive difficult cars / outperform his car has directly negatively impacted them in the development race in 2024, as the team was more inclined to listen to him than Perez, its second driver. Finally, as we come into the back half of the 2024 season, the team is realising its errors, and trying to pull itself back into the championship fight. On top of that fact, Red Bull has no clear choice for a second driver who can reliably be close to Verstappen when fighting for constructors' since its neglected its talent since Verstappen is so strong, and hasn't been able to pick up any considerable talent from outside their own pool because (at least partially) Verstappen is so intimidating to go head to head with as a teammate.
So whilst Verstappen single-handedly won the team the constructors' in 2023, in 2024, he's becoming their achilles' heel - their biggest weakness. And if he chooses to leave what is a dying team, what will Red Bull have left?
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blorbocedes · 2 years ago
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"Mercedes was offering a paid F2 season in 2015 with a view to F1 the season after, probably with a Mercedes customer team. “All that we could offer them that Mercedes could not,” recalled Red Bull’s Helmut Marko, “was an F1 drive. Because we had Toro Rosso.”
The Verstappens had gone into Max’s first season of car racing knowing F3 was a big step and figuring the following season would be the title campaign. But here they were fighting tooth and nail for the title immediately and being offered F1! Jos had leveraged Mercedes’ interest to great effect and Marko was determined to land what he saw as a generational talent, someone he’d been trying to bring into the fold for years. Finally, Jos had ‘allowed’ that to happen. It was almost as if they were doing Red Bull a favour in agreeing to terms. But what terms; the combination of Jos’ shrewdness, Max’s talent and Marko’s determination not to let it escape saw Red Bull commit not just to three seasons of F1 (the first two of them at Toro Rosso) but the freedom to walk in the third year if he was not promoted to the senior team.
The power dynamic of the 17-year-old rookie within the Red Bull group was therefore unique. Every other driver had spent years proving to Red Bull they were worthy. Red Bull had almost to prove it was worthy of retaining Max – and Marko was enthralled."
he had them gagged since the start
jos' own career got fucked in part due to he was never the talent max is, and stronger part due to management absolutely fucking him over in a way that stunted his career. so he was determined max would not only have his options open, but options from the best teams. the goal was always mercedes but redbull was the one time crazy enough to put a teenager in the cockpit, and mercedes already had their 1-2 seemingly locked in for years.
max was the boy wonder who could
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dear-ao3 · 1 year ago
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A different anon but as someone deeply fascinated by Esteban Ocon and the redbull musical chairs here are some extra notes:
Estie bestie is currently at Alpine formerly Renault since 2020. And back in 2018 (ie when he was in Racing Point) there were rumors linking him to the Renault seat Daniel would take in 2019 so that’s possibly why his and Lances friendship survived
Unrelated but Alpine/Renault is currently the Frenchest team to ever French. It is (or at least was) partly owned by the French government through their stake in Renault (Alpine got renamed cause Alpine is the sports car brand of Renault. Not that they make any sports cars I believe they made maybe one in 2017). The current two Alpine drivers are the aforementioned Estie bestie and Pierre Gasly (both French. Also childhood friends to enemies to they have to tolerate each other now) and while their current reserve driver is an Australian, he will hopefully for his own good take a page out of his countryman’s Oscar Piastris book and hightail it out of there for his own good. The most likely replacement for him would be Victor Martins. Also French. The Alpine factories are in Enstone (UK) and Viry (France) so that’s the least French part of that team
Now back to our regularly scheduled programming of rbr 2nd seat:
So rbr started by buying the Jaguar team in mid 2000s after afaik getting fed up by Sauber who they used to sponsor. Also at that time Sauber was sponsored by Petronas, Mercedes’ current title sponsor. Fun fact
The two drivers that they started with was David Coulthard who no one cares about in this story and Mark Webber, Australian, first victim of rbr 2nd seat shenanigans
At some point (for the 2009 season I think?) Seb Vettel, German, certifiable little shit at that time, replaces Coulthard
Insert a highlight reel of Seb Vettels warcrimes between ~2010 - 2013, which culminate in Multi-21 Mark Webber retiring after the 2013 season. He gets replaced by Toro Rosso driver/Red Bull junior Daniel Ricciardo, Australian, happy go lucky guy and our next victim in a couple of years
2014 brings new regs for the cars and Red Bull struggles to adapt. For context Seb went from a 9 win streak at the end of 2013 to no podiums in 2014. Yeah. So he runs away to Ferrari for 2015 to become a victim of Italian incompetence instead
He gets replaced by Daniil Kvyat, Russian, the most forgettable man in this story. Also he is pretty new into F1, it’s his second or third year there
2015 is sorta meh for rbr but the two Daniels are sorta even. And then 2016 happens
Here’s the thing; Daniil decides to play bumper cars in Russia and China right off the bat at the beginning of the season, one of the victims being former rbr golden child Seb. Now there’s more lore that I don’t remember but it culminates in him being replaced for Spain 2016 by Max Verstappen, Dutch, aged like 18 at that time
Max goes on to win his first race with Red Bull because Mercedes (the best team on the grid) is in the throes of a civil war and their drivers take each other out. There could be novels written about those two drivers btw
The next two and half years are a slow process of the garage slowly going from preferring Danny Ric to preferring Max. Highlights include Baku 2018 and then Dans redemption win in Monaco the same year. There could be novels about this as well but we culminate in Dan leaving for Renault
And then we get to the real musical chairs. He gets replaced by Pierre Gasly, French, third victim of rbr 2nd seat
He has a shite start to the season and ends up getting replaced by Alex Albon, Thai, a rookie that year, midway through the season after Christian Horner, Mr Ginger spice, swore up and down he won’t
Intermission: Toro Rosso liked playing musical chairs as well and Pierre Gasly only got an F1 seat at the last few races for 2017, Alex got told he’s racing in 2019 (his first season) days before preseason testing. With no experience in an F1 car. And there’s a world of difference between a shit car (Toro Rosso) and a good car (Red Bull). Yeah they were ultimately victims of rbrs shitty management, especially Alex since he does wonders in a Williams now
Rbr decides to drop Alex after 2020. Except they usually promote Toro Rosso drivers and the two Toro Rosso drivers right now? Pierre Gasly and Daniil Kvyat. Yeah
So they end up hiring Sergio ‘Checo’ Pérez, Mexican, who knows if he will be racing next year. Idk if he got an extension or if they hired him for four years, either way his contract is supposed to last until end of 2024 season but right now how Mr Ginger spice is acting… yeah
Also, Daniel just came back to rbr as a driver for Alpha Tauri (former Toro Rosso) after a mid season swap that was widely regarded as shittily done so there are very little contract issues that would stop Red Bull from hiring him, a marketing departments golden boy, a good friend of Max, as the second driver to maybe finally have a good team
(Red Bull has never ended 1-2 in drivers standings. Checo is currently second but Sir Lewis Hamilton can do wonders sometimes)
So to reiterate the seat movements:
It’s Webber -> Ricciardo -> Gasly -> Albon -> Perez in that metaphorical seat which when rb had a clear first and second drivers it was usually second drivers seat
And (Coulthard ->) Vettel -> Kvyat -> Verstappen for that other seat. The one that if rb had a clear first and second drivers was usually first (Vettel, Verstappen after ~2018)
Bonus fun fact about Liam Lawson, one of the threats for Checos seat:
He is born in 2002. He’s younger than Fernando Alonso’s career by several months, upwards to a year
He is the guy that knocked Verstappen out of quali in Q2 in Singapore and consequently broke the several year long streak of at least one car always in Q3 that Red Bull has been holding
There is always a debate if he has a guaranteed seat from rbr or not at some point. There were rumors of a guaranteed for 2025 a while ago but who knows…
Sorry for rambling so much I have thoughts haha
forgot i’ve been sitting on this ask for a month lol but yes. red bull second seat drama is indeed fascinating. and now there is aparently another rumor that arthur leclerc might come up to f1 through racing bulls (alpha tauri) which would disrupt the process again.
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moonvisi0n · 10 months ago
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2015 Formula One Round 1&2
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Felt random when I picked it but after finishing the Malaysian race I knew it'd be an exciting season. Don't know where to start so I'll just go by who's in the photos—THIS GRID'S REDBULL AND TORO ROSSO LINE UP !!! THIS GRID'S ROOKIES. I'm just more realizing that every season I pick to binge IS the perfect season to get into (Cuz I don't mess around apparently),
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Rookie Max Verstappen. What haunting words. He DNFed his first race and the camera cut to his father in the Redbull garage, evidently furious. He was only 17. He placed 7th in Malaysia, becoming the 'Youngest points scorer' in Formula One.
OH You thought a young Max Verstappen in the Redbull/STR family would be enough for this grid—BOOM Carlos Sainz Jr. I won't say anything more because this dude needs to announce where he's going to be in 2025 (holy shit a decade since this season) it's actually not funny anymore Except when it was when KMag pointed at him like 🫵 and 👈 That's who the cork is
Max replaced the previous title holder of F1 coming of christ (youngest driver to score points), Seb Vettel, who now sits in a shining Ferrari with the Schumacher comparisons already beginning. Just like they did in 2007 for funnily enough his teammate this season, KIMI. Apparently, in his last year with Redbull, he only led 2 races—Imagine then winning your first race with Ferrari:
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Obvi the overarching story of this season is Hamilton's THIRD championship ! And probably a Rosberg🫳(and therefore Hamilton) tragedy in the making hehe
This rant screams Redbull diehard and/or fake Ferrari fan who doesn't understand true tifosi but I SWEAR I know what DRS is🤞
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But just in general, why this season? I guess:
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Divas, the lot of them
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vro0m · 1 year ago
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vro0m’s rewatch - 168/332
2016 Australian GP
Alright. After these few months of hiatus on my side it is time to get back to our project and watch the 2016 season. As always, let’s set some context before we start.
Team changes :
Surprisingly we are back to 11 teams? Ohhhh Haas is joining the competition! Tbh I didn’t even notice they weren’t there until now lol.
RBR and Toro Rosso stopped working with Renault (remember the drama at the beginning of the 2015 season? no surprise there) but they actually… are still… using Renault engines? except they’re called TAG heuer? Very confused. Anyway Toro Rosso is back on a Ferrari engine so that’s also weird.
Renault is however back as a team as they purchased Lotus
Marussia is now called Manor Racing and are now using Mercedes PUs
Driver changes :
So Haas is joining with Grosjean and Gutierrez. In 2015 Grosjean was with Lotus and Gutierrez was a reserve driver.
Renault hired Joylon Palmer as a new F1 driver and originally he was supposed to race alongside Maldonado who had a contract with Lotus. But in the end, his sponsors were “unable to fulfil their contractual obligations to the team” and he was replaced by Magnussen who had a contract with McLaren in 2015, as a reserve driver I believe.
Marussia/Manor also changed their line-up and started with two rookies which is a bold move : Pascal Wehrlein and Rio Haryanto (literally never heard his name).
There was also mid-season stuff but we’ll talk about it as it happens.
So all in all here’s how we’re starting the season :
Ferrari : Seb + Raikkonen
Force India : Perez + Hulkenberrg
Haas : Grosjean + Gutierrez
McLaren : Alonso + Jenson
Mercedes : Nico + Lewis
Manor : Haryanto + Wehrlein
RedBull : Ricciardo + Kvyat
Renault : Magnussen + Palmer
Sauber : Ericsson + Nasr
Toro Rosso : Verstappen + Sainz
Williams : Massa + Valtteri
Calendar changes :
We are in for no less than 21 races this time. Watching these seasons is obviously gonna get longer and longer, I hope you are patient.
The European GP is back on the calendar but is now happening in Baku rather than Valencia. 
The German GP is back on the calendar. 
The order is also changed with the Russian GP happening earlier in the year and the Malaysian GP happening later in the year which feels weird but makes sense. 
Rule changes :
From Monaco onward the drivers are allowed to change helmet designs for one weekend per season
Some ridiculous change was implemented to artificially make the car louder because idiotic fans at the time criticised the new engines for not being noisy enough apparently
The teams now have more tokens to develop the PUs 
The pre-season tests were reduced from 3 to 2
New “ultrasoft” tyres for street circuits, and Pirelli is now bringing 3 different dry tyres instead of 2 : the third one (the softest available for the weekend) is only given to the teams reaching Q3 and then the drivers have to choose what 10 tyre sets they want for the race and have to use 2 different compounds during the race
The stewards have more power to enforce track limits 
Any driver that causes an aborted start has to start from the pit lane
The gearbox penalties are now applied in the order in which they were given
The VSC is now also used during FPs
The drivers are now able to use DRS as soon as the VSC period is ended rather than having to wait 2 laps for it to be activated again
The quali format was revised just 2 weeks before the season began! However the new format was abandoned just 2 GP in because it was heavily criticised. I don’t exactly know what it was, we will learn about it as we go.
The stewards have more power to monitor radio comms in an attempt to end coded messages and driver coaching. There was apparently a controversy about it during the season though and it was later relaxed a bit but we will also see that as we go.
The superlicence was also made more difficult to apply for because of the controversial way Max got his at 16 after only 1 F3 season.
And that’s it for preseason context. Let’s get started!
Oh funny! I can see Lewis doing that thing that surprised everyone in the 2023 Canadian GP in the skysports opening, you know, the head shaking?
They are taking the 2016 class photo. And already they are saying that the new quali format was scrapped after one race. The team principals were unanimous about it. But it still needs to be voted by the commission. Renault still thinks they can tweak it to make it work. Hill says the first session was the most interesting when it should be the other way around. Lewis is on pole though ! Hill says it immediately puts to rest any rumour, like he was spreading, that Nico might have the upper hand after the end of the last season. Let's see exactly what this new format was about with the quali report.
So after 7 minutes in Q1 the slowest driver was eliminated. Nico went wide, but after 7 minutes Wehrlein was the one at the bottom. Then Kvyat was also sent away. People are shaking their heads in the garages. Q2. Magnussen was the next one out, followed by Jenson, and Alonso. Apparently there was a lot of time with no cars on track. Q3, Seb got provisional pole but Lewis did better. We hear a radio message saying "we are not planning to go out" with 4 minutes to go. Zero cars on track. The drivers are walking around in the pit lane. Nobody is happy with this. It makes no sense. 
Then we hear all the TPs saying it's shit. Then Lewis, with a gorgeous pair of clear glasses, says "Let's find out what the fans want. Has anyone asked?" 
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In the end, the starting grid goes Lewis, Nico, Seb, Raikkonen, Max, Massa, Sainz, Ricciardo, Perez, Hulkenberg. 
Horner says himself the TPs are a "pretty dysfunctional group" but for once they were unanimous about it. They decided to go back to what it was the previous years. He says the problem is not the quali format. But Ted wonders if they know what it is the fans want, which is closer racing. Horner, in a rare good moment, says the issue is each team is trying to protect their own competitiveness when they need to look at the bigger picture. And so he thinks it should be taken out of the teams' hands and someone else should be deciding. But basically, as Hill explains, what he's rooting for is Bernie making the decisions, and Bernie is his friend. So. Yeah. 
Hill says Nico has been defensive in his interviews. (But I'm wary of his opinions because he's an idiot.) And AGAIN they mention Lewis spending maybe too much time on catwalks or red carpets but AGAIN they admit he proved them wrong already this weekend. Istg. Like I said the other day about the 2023 season they've been saying this for decades and they just keep going even though he's shown them otherwise time and time again. 
Lewis says getting pole was incredible and thanks the crowd. He says he hopes the race will be more exciting for them than it was yesterday. Johnny asks if he's worried about any car behind him but he says he's only looking forward. 
There's a segment about Mercedes' filming day.
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Johnny is there. He finds Lewis. "There he is! Having fun?" he asks. There's a pause. "Does it look like it?" Lewis says with a smile. It's not his favourite time of the year I think. Johnny asks him what it is he needs to drive a car fast. "I'm surprised you're asking me that question," he says. He then answers he thinks it's because he's willing to go further than most. 
The filming is happening in the W07, so the 2016 car. "It's dancing about all the time," Lewis says from the cockpit. "It's just like targeting, like with a gun." I have zero idea what that means. When he's asked if he's happy to be in the car, he says it's amazing. 
As we see Lewis and Nico side by side in the background talking with someone during the car reveal, Simon says things seem pretty relaxed here. Mercedes again seems competitive although the question of how Ferrari will fare against them remains. 
Lewis was asked if anything less than winning a WDC would be a failure to him now. He says it's not all about winning although naturally that's their goal. "It's about the journey as well." We see him chatting, smiling, with Nico.
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"How much do you enjoy the psychological games with your teammate and how much is mischief?" Simon asked Nico during their shared interview. "Physically harder and harder," Nico says. Lewis agrees. "We're getting older," Nico continues. "Crazy, yeah," Lewis adds. "I've seen some grey hairs on you. So yeah, you know how it is." Nico smiles wide, Toto is standing between them. "You're only 6 months behind me, man." Nico and Toto are still smiling while Lewis is deadpan. They want it to be fun and relaxed but that's not really how it feels. Back to the part of the interview where Lewis is alone. Simon asks if he enjoys bickering with someone he's known and raced against for so long. Lewis reiterates that ever since he was young he's honestly never tried to play any games. He's dead serious throughout these snippets btw. Not smiling. Not warm. Not friendly. Dead serious. Again with the "do your talking on the track" from Anthony. He says of course they have to do these interviews and things are being taken literally and twisted. He says there are pictures of him smiling in press conferences while Nico is thinking about something and has a straight face (they illustrate it with a moment from the 2015 US GP press conf) "and they say there's something going on, you know… [...] People like 'oh this is mind games'." 
Meanwhile Nico is smiling and teasing. Everybody has strengths and weaknesses he says, and of course he knows Lewis very well now. But, he adds, the most important thing is for him to get the job done and perform at his best. 
Lewis on his side says he has mount everest to climb this year. People are gonna be pulling to make him slip and get ahead. He says he'll have to work harder than he's ever worked in his life to stay ahead because every year they get stronger. He talks about these "youngins" coming while he's getting older.
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Now he cracks a smile while we cut to a serious Nico. Lewis has beaten him in the past few years so, he admits, the odds are in his favour. "And it's gonna be tough to beat him, he's done better, you know, recently." But that's the kind of challenge he loves. They're already asking Lewis if the championship is his, they haven't even started racing yet. Lewis shuts it down. "The championship is never yours until you've actually got it and taken it home." 
On the grid, Brundle asks Niki if his boys are allowed to fight even if it means they end up in the boonies. Niki says they are not allowed to end up "anywhere", they can fight each other (I think? I don't understand what he's saying very well) but they have to watch Sebastian and their tyres. Brundle says they are now allowed to talk about strategy over the radio. Niki basically says they already fucked up with the quali change so it's good they quickly went back on their decision about that. Brundle asks if he's concerned about the Ferraris. "You never know." The tyres are new, it's hot, it's an open race. 
It's time for the first race of the season. 
Formation lap. They changed the starting procedure from two clutches to one clutch. I have no idea what it means but it might be relevant to some botched start so let's mention it. 
And while they're lining up on the grid once again one RedBull is stopped right in the middle of it. It's Kyvat. He's stranded behind the safety car. What now? Yep. The lights are flashing on and off. It's a second formation lap. The marshals run to Kvyat. He's confused about the procedure. He's out of the car running around in the garage, unsure what he's supposed to do. 
Here we go. 
They are racing! 
OH MY GOD. SEB IMMEDIATELY GETS HIMSELF BETWEEN THE TWO MERCS! AND HE TAKES THE LEAD WHILE RAIKKONEN FINDS HIMSELF IN P2 IN THE FIRST CORNER! Ohhhhh the Ferraris are HERE. Let's go! Lewis has fallen down though. It's Nico in P3. Lewis is battling a Williams. Unbelievable! As Brundle notes though, the problem is probably mostly due to the start procedure change. The mercs struggled to get away. Magnussen has a puncture. And that's lap one. The order now goes Seb, Raikkonen, Nico, Max, Massa, Lewis, Sainz, Hulkenberg, Ricciardo and Alonso. 
Gutierrez, P20, reports problems with his engine. Lewis is just half a second away from Massa now but Sainz is also less than a second behind him. Lewis attacks! And he overtakes Massa from the outside! And we get the start replay. Seb's start was really outstanding and then Lewis got caught between Nico and the side of the track (not by Nico's fault, just racing) and that's how he fell further back. Nico is closing on Raikkonen now. Meanwhile Lewis is half a second away from Max. He takes a look but the straight isn't long enough to attack yet. 0.3. But he's stuck behind him! The tyres are graining.
It's lap 10. Ricciardo overtakes Massa right in front of the grandstands, the crowd is loving it. Lewis : "I can't get past the guy". Nico is also still behind Raikkonen. Lewis is told on the radio to extend this stint. Some pitting in the midfield. Valtteri overtakes Palmer for P11. And Nico pits! Ricciardo and Alonso are also in the pits. Nico is out in front of Hulkenberg. And Lewis is heard on the radio saying there must be another strategy as he can't stay stuck behind Max and Bono says, again, they're trying to go longer. But now if he pits, or if Max pits, they'd end up behind Hulkenberg. Seb pits from the lead. He's out in front of Nico but it's so close and Nico attacks! Seb defends! Damn that's RACING. Raikkonen is asking to be boxed. Max has pitted. He overtakes Valtteri for P9. Nico sets the fastest lap. Verstappen overtakes Jenson for P8. And Seb is catching Lewis now. And he overtakes him for P2. Now what. They went long and they are a full pit stop down on them. Nico is getting close as well. They are on different strategies but Lewis is making no move to let him go, of course. Eventually he pits. Raikkonen is also there. Raikkonen gets the supersoft so you wonder why they made him go longer. Lewis, on the other hand, gets the medium as we expected. He's gonna hope to get to the end. He's out in front of Massa in P– oh it's a crash! Gutierrez is in the gravel. OH GOD THERE'S A CAR UPSIDE DOWN?! It's Alonso! He's out. But he's not okay. He's limping and then he folds over himself with his hands on his knees, as Gutierrez exits his car. Gutierrez jogs to him as Alonso starts to walk again. They shake hands. The marshals check on him as he leaves the gravel. Oh my god. The car is. I don't know how to describe that. Shredded. You wouldn't be able to tell it was a car if it wasn't for the wheels sticking out at weird angles. Seriously. I think it's missing the front part? Unbelievable. How did Alonso walk away from that? Loads of debris on track as well, of course the safety car has been deployed. Several cars pit, expectedly. Here's the replay of the crash. Holy shit. I don't even know how to paint that picture. Alonso is coming up behind Gutierrez. He decided to switch sides. His front right catches on Gutierrez rear left. The axle immediately breaks which sends him violently into the barriers while Gutierrez gets a rear puncture that sends him spinning. All the other wheels of Alonso's car break in the crash. The car is sent sliding into the gravel trap. The sudden deceleration sends the car spinning upon it's axis. Full barrel roll and a half in the air above the gravel trap. It lands kind of halfway upside down on the rear part of the cockpit (thankfully not the front part, I mean he'd have. Lost his head. Possibly.) It bounces back up and finds itself almost upright and then I can't see anymore because there's so much debris, gravel, dust and smoke in the way. The race is redflagged. 
So it's lap 19. Seb is in the lead, followed by Nico, Raikkonen, Daniel, Verstappen, Sainz, Lewis, Massa, Grosjean and Hulkenberg for the top 10. It's terrible for Merc's strategy : they kept Lewis out for nothing. He pitted, found himself down the field, and now everybody can change tyres and it will have been for nothing. We won't know how that strategy would have played out. We see Alonso walking back past his wreck of a car. He's taken the helmet off and is giving thumbs up to the crowd that applauds him. It's unbelievable that he's okay. Really. Lewis is out of the car. Walking away with his helmet on. We hear Gutierrez confirm on radio he is okay and immediately asking "is he okay?" The wreck is on the crane now and the only wheels left are folded and dangling beneath it, and the left side pod is entirely missing. Vaporised upon impact. 
They change Lewis' front wing. Now Lewis is on the pit wall talking with his engineers. We have a restart time. They're getting ready to go again. 
The accident prompts talk of the halo. Crofty wonders if it would have trapped Alonso in the car. It would have saved his head if he'd landed on the front part of his car rather than the rear, man. Brundle says when he crashed he found himself in a similar position as Alonso and it would have been an issue especially if the car had been on fire. 
Lewis is still on mediums. So they intend to go on with this strategy. Nico has been put on the mediums. The Ferraris are on supersofts… They will have to stop again. Mmh. Interesting. 
And they go again, under safety car for a lap. Seb backs them up. Here we go. Verstappen overtakes Ricciardo. Seb is already getting away, 1.3 ahead after 1 lap. Raikkonen is in the pits?! On the radio we hear him say he broke something. Oh yeah, it's smoking. As soon as he slows down it catches on fire. It's over for him. Lewis is closing on Sainz. But he's 10 seconds behind Nico. He needs to get moving. At the front, Seb is trying to get a gap big enough to pit. Ericsson gets a drive through because his team was working on his car too late after the restart signal. 
It's lap 30. Seb is 3.1 seconds in the lead. Nico, Daniel, Verstappen, Sainz, Lewis still P6, Massa, Grosjean, Hulkenberg and Valtteri for the top 10. Jenson pits. Crofty notes he's the first one of supersofts to do so. Lewis is wheel to wheel with Sainz but he’s on the outside and can't overtake him still. Sainz says he needs to stop. He pits. He goes again. He's out in P12. People are switching to the medium as the track temperature goes down. Ted says Nico is winning this race. Verstappen pits as well, but nobody was ready and it's a loooong one. He's down in P12. Crofty thinks he might have made the call himself. Anyway Lewis up in P4. Max : "How many times do I have to say I’ve got problems with my tyres? I wanted to pit first." Apparently he'd been asking for a tyre change for a while and possibly he just went for it as they wouldn't pit him? Ballsy. Ferrari need to pit Seb. Because the Mercs don't necessarily need to stop again. And Nico is only 1.1 behind Seb. And here we go, he pits. It's the softs and ohhh they struggle to put them on! That's bad for Seb! 5.6 stop! He's out ahead of Massa in P4. It means he's chasing Lewis now. Sainz and Verstappen are basically on Palmer trying to overtake for P9. "Can I try to get past?" Max asks. "Yes," is the answer. Ohhh my god I would be so stressed if I was them because now they're chasing each other and it's very close. In a very amused voice, Crofty notes we've already heard Max's colourful language this race and he expects more over the radio now. "Let me try because this takes too long," he says. "Let's do it," the engineer answers. But Sainz isn't told to move aside. Meanwhile Lewis is gaining over Ricciardo. 
Lap 40. Nico is 9 seconds ahead of Daniel, himself just 1.2 ahead of Lewis. Then come Seb, 8 seconds down, Massa, Grosjean, Hulkenberg, Valtteri, Palmer, and it's the two Toro Rossos still fighting each other. Verstappen : "Come on we have to do something." Sainz is told to push. "I am pushing. Don't tell me to push." He's told otherwise they will swap next lap. Oh and Ericsson is really slow on track now, as we cut to images of Alonso, all smiles, walking around the paddock. Max attacks, Sainz locks up. The positions don't change. Sainz is actively defending against Max. Franz Tost shakes his head as he watches on. And now, Lewis has DRS over Daniel. Let's go. 0.4. 0.2. And it's done. 10 seconds to catch Nico. And Sainz FINALLY overtakes Palmer. Verstappen tries to follow and he's wheel to wheel with him down the straight. He just about makes it. Daniel pits from P3, out in P5. Verstappen chases Sainz. Ricciardo overtakes Massa for P4. Lewis is not closing on Nico… Verstappen : "Always when I’m in front I’m pulling away, now you don’t let me pass, it’s a fucking joke, really." 
Lap 50. Lewis is still 10 seconds off Nico, Seb 3.7 off him. Then Daniel, Massa, Grosjean, Hulkenberg, Valtteri, Sainz, and Verstappen. But suddenly, less than a lap later, Lewis is 8.2 away and Seb 2.8 behind him. Perez is told his brake wear is critical and he won't be able to make it to the end if he keeps it up. And Lewis makes a mistake, he outbrakes himself, and Seb is right behind him. 0.6. 0.5. Phew. Oh. Verstappen spun. Ohhh they made contact. Yeah well. Not surprised. Sainz locked up and Max hit him. Back to the front. Seb is half a second behind still. 3 laps to go. OH AND SEB LOCKED UP AND GOES DEEP! He went on the grass and that ends the chase. Lewis is 5 seconds away now. He apologises over radio. 
And it's the end of the race! 
Nico, Lewis, Seb. 
Lewis and Nico briefly hug as they get out of their cars. Ohhh. Seb goes to Lewis as he dries his hair. He talks to him. Then Lewis takes a step away with a big grin as Seb throws his cap at him. Cheeky.
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They walk away talking, while Nico is left behind.
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They talk on the way to the podium. Seb elbows him. 
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Nico for some reason hugs Mark Webber who's doing the podium interviews. Lewis dumps champagne on him as he talks to the crowd.
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And Seb dumps his on Mark.
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Lewis says the team has done a great job but it was tricky out there. He loves that they had to come back from "far behind". Glad that no one was injured in the crash as well. He says it's impossible to follow around here. But a great result for the team. Seb asks Webber if he wants more champagne. Webber says he gets drunk really fast these days and Seb says "I know, I know you do, and then you start singing summer '69, remember?" Nico and Lewis are talking during his interview. 
Niki says they wanted competition but that's too much competition! But he's happy with the result. He doesn't know what would have happened without the red flag, if it was in their favour or not. He refuses to speculate. He thinks the bad start was indeed due to the new procedure. 
Also noteworthy : Haas managed to score points in their first ever race. 
Oh okay so they've already decided to introduce the halo in 2017 so that's why they're talking about it so much (no they didn't? i don't know why i wrote that? was it supposed to be the case and in the end they didn't or did i get that wrong?) The ex-drivers seem to mostly think it's a bad idea but Jenson says it's a good thing. 
Alonso is not blaming anyone for the crash and he's just happy to be here. 
Lewis is happy with his damage limitation. He doesn't think the issue at the start was due to the procedure but possibly wheelspin. He says the start itself wasn't "shocking, wasn't the worst" but then he got pushed off by Nico into turn 1 and then he lost ground and he's grateful he was able to recover. The journalist says Mercedes did an awful lot of work on the medium tyres over the winter and did that win them the race? He nods.
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He says the hard thing is to know how long and how hard you can lean on your tyres. He says when he had 20 laps left he thought he wouldn't make it because they started sliding but they kept going. Then he locked up at some point and Sebastian was "on his tail" and after that it was so slippery. He tells about it all with the most childlike smile and enjoyment.
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He says the team did a great job with the strategy. He says they did expect Ferrari to be close, but he says Nico doesn't seem to think he had trouble following them so it'll be interesting. He interrupts himself. "You know once Sebastian was behind me," his eyes crinkle, "I was excited because I was having a race with Sebastian you know but unfortunately this track doesn't allow you to have serious battles”. 
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Nico says he had a good start but Seb had a flying start. He also says he never looked behind him, didn't know someone was there, didn't feel contact with Lewis and apologises for anything he might have been a part of there. 
They also talk about the fight between Max and Sainz and finally the journalists are a bit critical in that they say it shows that Max is young because he lost his head a bit and if he'd been cooler he might have gotten further. 
Absolutely losing it at Ted mentioning Iñaki Rueda seen holding his head on the pit wall after the race realising he'd fucked up their strategy.
11 notes · View notes
sourstroll · 2 years ago
Text
Tags: Carlos Sainz/Fernando Alonso, set in 2015, hero worship kind of, unhealthy attachments, jealousy, multiple orgasms, older man/younger man
WC: 3,359
Because I love the idea of Fernando charming all the rookies, I had a thought about him and Carlos!!
Fernando absolutely loving when the younger drivers call him their role model or hero.
The intense love he receives from Carlos when he joins Toro Rosso is almost overwhelming, but Fernando loves getting his ego stroked more than anything.
Carlos doesn’t make an effort to hide his feelings, either.
It’s like having a lost little puppy begging for you to take them home, following you around and insisting upon your greatness. Carlos says it all the time, that he can’t believe he gets to have his hero as a friend and a competitor, always gushes to Fernando about how great he is and how he hopes to have a championship title like he does. Fernando is aware that the last thing he should be doing is indulging Carlos in his very obvious infatuation.
Fernando can pinpoint exactly when the lines started to blur between them. Things started to shift in Germany, when Toro Rosso happened to be in the same hotel as McLaren and Carlos found his way to Fernando’s room during almost all their free time. Fernando was good; he didn’t try to touch or coerce or any of the other things his colleagues would warn him not to do, just listened to Carlos talk and talk about whatever, watched his expressions and excitement as he spoke. He realized after that, that he liked spending time with Carlos, despite how obvious his crush was.
Maybe it was their drunken kiss in Monaco, initiated by Carlos at some random house party. Fernando hadn’t fought it at all, hadn’t tried to push Carlos away or insist he was no good for him. In his intoxicated state, it actually felt nice, Carlos eagerly shoving his tongue into his mouth and not pulling away even for a second. He can still remember the ‘talk’ Lewis and Sebastian had with him the day after. They scolded him for being a perv and implored him not to start any morally dubious relationships with rookies. Fernando knows it would do him some good to heed their warnings, but he was never one to follow the rules, not exactly.
Everything changes at Monza. He wasn’t even sure how Carlos had snuck into the McLaren garage, undetected, only an hour before lights out. Carlos pushed him into his driver room and pressed him up against the door and kissed him without a word, hungry and hot and wet, no elegance to it. Fernando had grabbed onto Carlos’s shoulders and pulled away immediately, but Carlos begged for Fernando to kiss him again, to have his way with him if he wanted. Fernando felt something inside of him twist and turn, changing the most fundamental parts of him, his desire at the forefront now, unshielded by his reservations.
Fernando didn’t fuck him then, he knew it’d be impossible for Carlos to drive afterward. But, he did kiss him back finally and flip them around so it was Carlos pressed against the door. He did in fact push his knee between Carlos’s legs and let him hump his thigh desperately, and he did enjoy watching every minute of Carlos fully giving in to the pleasure. The image of Carlos’s hips stuttering against him as he came in his fireproofs was something Fernando would always hold close to his heart. Fernando’s favorite part was watching Carlos continue to rut down onto Fernando’s thigh until his whole body shook, his legs weak, even after he came, babbling about how he didn’t want it to end.
It’s in Japan, a couple races later, when Carlos gives him no choice but to give in, fully.
Carlos invites himself to Fernando’s hotel and the older man has to say yes. He doesn’t even intend to do anything with him but whine about their days and maybe watch a movie or two, but Carlos has other plans.
“Can we talk, Nando?”
The question comes suddenly and without warning, not even a few minutes since they’d entered the room. Fernando was sitting on the edge of his bed while Carlos was standing before him, blocking his view of the TV he’d been trying to watch. Fernando’s hands turn clammy, not sure whether he should be worried or not about what Carlos wants to say.
“Yeah, of course,” Fernando says sincerely and pats the spot beside him, watching Carlos with furrowed brows as he sat down. He can’t help but notice how distraught he looks, how his eyes almost glisten with emotion.
“I know we’re not together, I shouldn’t even care about this, but-“ Carlos starts, a bit sad and frantic with his words. “Max told me you took him out to lunch a few days ago. You didn’t even tell me,” Carlos huffs, wincing as if he’d actually been cheated on. “I-I just feel like.. I wanted you to just be happy with me. Max is great, I know, and maybe he’s a better driver than me and he’s cuter than me, but I don’t think it’s fair that-“
Fernando had to stop him, he couldn’t let Carlos continue to think that anyone else was as special to him as he was. The older man did it by pressing a soft kiss to his mouth, and he didn’t pull away until he could feel Carlos relax. The realization that Carlos’s feelings were bigger than both of them didn’t make him want to run or hide— the fact had nestled itself in the back of his mind, always there and present and sometimes scary, but it had prepared him sufficiently for Carlos to go and spill his guts to him.
Fernando pulls away and is silent for a few more seconds. “You’re jealous, Chili?” Fernando says endearingly, reaching up to cup the side of Carlos’s unkempt, stubbly face, watching the way it made him short circuit, just one simple touch.
“Well, yeah, because..” Carlos tried to explain, still stuck on the kiss he’d just received, trailing off. Fernando had never made the first move before. “I don’t even know how you feel about me, but I like you so much,” he murmured. “Even if you think I’m just some stupid rookie.”
Fernando didn’t know it went this deep, Carlos’s devotion. He had never considered himself someone who was easy to love or someone who gave out his love to just anyone. Hearing Carlos be open and honest was new to him, yet welcome. It was a breath of fresh hair, having him be so hopeless about their relationship.
“It was just lunch,” Fernando answered Carlos’s initial concern, raising a brow at the younger boy and dropping his hand to his lap, intertwining his fingers with his. “You don’t have to fight anyone for my attention. I promise.”
Carlos truly felt like crying, like the weight on his shoulders had been lifted. “Why don’t you touch me, then?” Carlos sighed. It was much more blunt than he’d normally ever be, but it was something that had been heavy on his mind for quite some time. Fernando was so confusing in that regard, being reluctant to touch him but readily saying he was only seeing Carlos.
Fernando knew that was bound to be one of his talking points, letting out a laugh at how absurd it sounded. “The other drivers watch us, you know that, right?” Fernando countered, still gently holding Carlos’s hand in his own. “When you look at me for too long, when I talk to you instead of them, when you spend all your free time with me. They see that. And they think I’m a pervert,” Fernando smirked.
“You’ve been called worse,” Carlos noted, which got him yet another hearty laugh from Fernando.
“I know. But you’re so young. I don’t want to ruin your chances to explore. I don’t want to tie you down,” Fernando says, serious and quiet.
Carlos feels that familiar, searing frustration start to bubble inside him. Maybe Fernando had a point; Carlos was too young to be deciding that he was in love and that he only wanted one person, but Carlos wasn’t concerned about possibly making a ‘mistake’. What he had with Fernando was not a mistake, he’d never see them that way.
Instead of fighting Fernando further on the issue, Carlos leaned back in and kissed him again, climbing into his lap so he’d finally understand how serious he was about only being his. Carlos pulled away to look down at Fernando, just to stare at the beautiful face he’d fallen so hard for. “When we were together, at Monza, I don’t think you realize how happy you made me. I would’ve skipped the race if you wanted me to,” Carlos admitted.
Fernando isn’t surprised by Carlos’s shameless allegiance to him, hands roaming up and under the younger man’s shirt, feeling his warm skin. “Is that when you figured out that you liked me a lot?” He teased, tone soft. Fernando could read between the lines; it wasn’t a confession of love, more like a restatement of the truth, that Carlos had eyes for him and only him.
Carlos’s face flushed a deep red, nodding wordlessly and kissing him again, selfishly licking into his mouth so he could taste him, the mint of his toothpaste and the lingering taste of his favorite tea, tasting like perfection.
Fernando had Carlos pinned down onto his bed in minutes, making quick work of getting their clothes off so he could finally take what was his. He’d only gotten a taste of how Carlos got when he felt good, the distant memories of suppressed moans and gasps from Monza swirling in his brain. “Que bonito,” Fernando purred as he tugged down Carlos’s boxers, the young driver already half-hard, thick cock bobbing as it sprung out. “Perfecto,” Fernando hummed, his lips gravitating to his neck, licking and biting and speaking sweet nothings into his skin.
Carlos couldn’t believe this was happening, that he was finally going all the way with Fernando. The older man meant everything to him, he was everything he wanted to grow into, he was all that it took to make him feel loved and happy and content. Carlos feels too exposed as Fernando undressed him, but he ignores his anxiety, instead spreads his knees and invites him in, silently begging to be taken. “Tócame,” he breathed, gasping when Fernando complied and wrapped a hand around him, using his precome to make the slide easier.
Fernando only has his boxers on as he starts taking Carlos apart, the slow twist of his wrist making him squirm and keen under him, as if he’d never been touched before. In many ways, he feels the same way about Carlos. He couldn’t see himself wanting to do any of this stuff with anyone else, he simply didn’t do this with anyone else. He just hoped he wasn’t some phase for Carlos, that the reason he wanted him wasn’t his glory, his titles.
Fernando strokes him a few more times before he scooted down the bed, comfortably positioned between Carlos’s tanned thighs. He wasted no time leaning in and taking the head of his cock into his mouth, sucking and lapping at it, being messy about it. He knew he made the right choice to start this way when Carlos squeezed his thighs around his head, one hand tugging at his hair firmly, the other fisting the sheets beneath them.
Carlos didn’t want to admit such an embarrassing thing about himself, but he was so sensitive, it didn’t take much for him to come, especially when this was the only person he’d wanted for several months now. It was too much and not enough, making him crazy yet silencing all his woes at the same time. “Fernando,” he moaned, not daring to look down at him. He knew that one look at the older man and he’d be spilling all over himself. “Please, please.”
Fernando knew Carlos was particularly sensitive. He gathered that from making Carlos come with just his thigh and his kisses. What he was more interested in was how many times he could make him come, how many would it take to have Carlos a blubbering mess beneath him. Fernando supposed that was the good thing about being older, the fact that he had more experience.
“Relax, papi,” Fernando said after pulling off, licking careful, fat stripes up and down his length. “I’ll take care of you,” he assured, pressing a trail of kiss to his hip, then down the inside of his thigh, slipping his tongue down between Carlos’s cheeks to swipe over his entrance, making sure to stroke him with his free hand.
That seemed to do the trick, Carlos relaxing and tensing all at once, letting out a contented squeak. His legs spread even wider and his hips chased the feeling of Fernando eating him out. He’d never had someone do that to him before, and it was quickly becoming his new favorite thing. Fernando’s tongue felt impossibly hot against him, soft and wet, his hole fluttering wildly, clenching around nothing and waiting impatiently to be filled. Fernando’s rough, calloused hands felt like heaven on his cock, slick from his own spit. When Carlos got the courage to look down between his thighs, he was done for—Fernando was looking up at him as he licked him, pretty brown eyes glistening in the dimness of the hotel room. Carlos could almost see the way his jaw moved, not shy about opening him up with just his tongue. Carlos couldn’t even warn Fernando as he came all over himself, thick ropes of come shooting onto his happy trail and all over Fernando’s fist, which was milking him through his orgasm.
Fernando felt blessed to be able to see Carlos in action, making him feel so good that he couldn’t last more than a couple of minutes. “Good boy,” he praised as he emerged from between his thighs, moving his hand in agonizingly slow strokes and leaning down to lap up the mess he’d made. Fernando made sure to lick him clean, letting go of his cock in favor of leaning up and kissing him harshly, wanting Carlos to taste himself.
Carlos mewled into the kiss, dizzy at the taste of his come on Fernando’s tongue. He was still feeling hazy as he felt Fernando’s hands grip his thighs right behind his knees, pushing his legs forward and spreading him apart even more. Carlos could feel his cock stirring back to life just at his lover calling him good, praising him for doing nothing but enjoy himself. “Need you, please,” he pleaded, trying not to come yet again at the sight of Fernando spitting in his hand, stroking his own cock to get himself lubed up. Everything about the older man made Carlos’s heart race, even the simplest habits and details.
“What if I break you?” Fernando asked teasingly, rubbing the head of his cock over Carlos’s waiting entrance, twitching against him.
“Ruin me,” Carlos insisted, letting his head rest back against the pillows, eyes squeezed shut in anticipation.
That was all the confirmation Fernando needed, slowly pushing forward and slipping into Carlos’s soft heat. He was tight, so tight that Fernando briefly wondered if he’d ever done this before. He was easily distracted by the way Carlos seemed to suck him in, like he’d die if he didn’t bottom out soon. Fernando struggled to keep his breath even, nails digging into the younger boy’s skin.
Carlos was inconsolable, letting out sweet cries at how perfect he felt, completely stretched and full. “Nando,” he groaned. “Big, really big,” he babbled, locking eyes with Fernando again, prompting another kiss between them. “Do it, fuck me,” he purred, forehead pressed against Fernando’s.
Fernando knew he couldn’t be so careless, he had to start with a little more eloquence. “Like this?” He asked and drew his hips back, starting up a steady, down-tempo rhythm, making sure Carlos could feel every inch.
Carlos nearly went cross-eyed at the sheer amount of pleasure he felt just from the glide of his cock in and out of him, never mind the absolutely intoxicating feeling of Fernando rubbing his sweet spot, his legs shaking in his hands. “God-“ he whined, arching up into him and going to cover his face with his hands, knowing what was about to happen. His own lack of self-control on display once more. He knew he must’ve been red and hot to the touch, too embarrassed to let Fernando see him like this.
Fernando was wholeheartedly taken by how shy Carlos still was, even while he was balls deep inside of him. It was endearing, something Fernando admired about his favorite little rookie. “Do it,” Fernando murmured, mimicking Carlos’s earlier words, encouraging him to let go and not feel bad about it. “For me, mi tesoro.”
Carlos came between them with a whimper, moving his hands to grip Fernando’s shoulders, exhaling breathy, broken moans into his ear as he wrapped his arms around his neck and pulled him down, needing the close contact.
Fernando didn’t mind the mess between them as he buried his nose in Carlos’s neck, breathing in the heady, musky scent of his cologne mixing with his sweat, thrusting faster and harder into his boy. It felt more intimate than Fernando had ever expected, the two of them wordlessly moving together, graceful, like they were meant to fit exactly like this, only soft noises and breaths between them. He let go of Carlos’s legs and felt him wrap them around his waist, no space left between them. Fernando rutted into Carlos with a sense of urgency, chasing the euphoric feeling of being squeezed like a vice. Their skin slapped together rhythmically, filling the room and joining the symphony of their moans. Usually, Fernando didn’t struggle to last, but it was difficult to keep his cool when Carlos was all olive skin, long lashes, saccharine moans that turned breathy as his pace increased, the perfect storm for a timely demise.
Fernando came with a low groan against Carlos’s neck, filling him up to the brim with his seed. He could feel the way Carlos squeezed around him when he came, his legs getting tighter around him. Fernando loved that Carlos was desperate to keep it all inside.
Carlos couldn’t bear to let go just yet, barely through the afterglow and needing Fernando to stay stuck against him, just like he had been to the older man through their whole relationship. “No more dates with my teammates. Or yours. Or anyone,” Carlos said, feigning seriousness, but still heaving for his breath.
Fernando mustered up a weak chuckle and kissed anywhere he could reach, his shoulders and collarbones, until Carlos’s grip had loosened up enough for him to press another one to his lips. “Okay, mi amor,” Fernando agreed easily. “But, I might have to take Max out again if I get to have you like this.”
Carlos relaxed into the bed, staring up at Fernando with wonder and adoration in his eyes, one hand mindlessly playing with the hair at the nape of the older man’s neck. “I already told him to stay away from you,” he admitted, looking coy, like he knew that it was maybe a bit much to say such a thing to someone who had no intention of stealing his idol from him.
“You’re going to get me in trouble, Carlito,” Fernando tisked and looked down between them, placing a tender hand on Carlos’s hip and pulling out, his cock mostly soft now, eyes watching intently how his come dripped out of him.
“You love it,” Carlos laughed, looking even more beautiful than before, limbs splayed out on the bed and sticky with his own fast-drying come.
“I do,” Fernando smirked. He planted one last kiss on Carlos’s cheek, his way to seal their fate before he stood up, wanting to clean Carlos up and make sure he had plenty of rest for their practice session in the morning.
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