#Max Verstappen x Reader

[charlotteking23]

Always You, Always Him

Lando Norris x reader

Summary: Lando Norris talks about how enamored he is with you all the time. He constantly searches for you, holds your hand when he wins, and gives you his first hug. Even a video compilation of his mentions was released by his fans.

warnings: none

"And an incredible victory for McLaren's Lando Norris at the Monaco Grand Prix!"

The commentators' voices boom through the speakers, but Lando's already pulling off his helmet, eyes scanning the crowd. You know exactly what - or rather who- he's looking for.

Even through the chaos of the celebration, he spots you by the barrier. That bright smile of his lights up his entire face as he jogs over, still in his race suit, completely ignoring the cameras and officials trying to direct him toward the podium.

"There you are!" He wraps you in a tight hug, lifting you slightly off your feet. The cameras are rolling, but he couldn't care less. "Did you see that last sector? I was thinking about what you said about being patient through Rascasse..."

"Lando, podium ceremony..." One of the team officials approaches cautiously.

"Just a minute," he waves them off, his arm still firmly around your waist. He's practically bouncing with excitement, telling you about every corner of his final lap.

"Lando, we really need to—"

"I said a minute!" There's that stubborn tone you know so well. He turns back to you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "You're coming up on the podium with me, right?"

Another official appears. "Lando, we're holding up the ceremony..."

"Then they can wait," he shrugs, pulling you closer. "I just won Monaco, I think I've earned five minutes with my girlfriend." His thumb traces circles on your hand, that post-race adrenaline making him even more tactile than usual.

Zak Brown finally walks over himself, trying not to laugh. "Come on, lover boy. The champagne's getting warm."

"Fine, fine," Lando sighs dramatically, but doesn't let go of your hand. Instead, he starts walking toward the podium, pulling you along. When the officials try to direct you elsewhere, he actually pouts. "No, she's staying with me. She's good luck – I literally just proved that, didn't I?"

"Lando," you laugh, "you need to do the ceremony properly."

"Then come back down and wait right there," he points to a spot by the stairs. "Where I can see you, Promise?"

"Promise."

He still keeps glancing at you throughout the entire ceremony, waving and pointing during the anthem like an excited kid showing off to his parents at a school play. The moment the photos are done, he's bounding down those steps three at a time, champagne bottle still in hand, making a beeline straight back to you.

The photographers go wild as he pulls you into another hug, champagne spraying everywhere. You can already picture the headlines: "Norris Celebrates Monaco Win with Mystery Girl," or "Lando's Lucky Charm? Norris's Girlfriend Steals the Show."

It's like this at every race. Before he even gets in the car, he'll find you in the paddock for a good luck kiss, lingering just a little longer than necessary while the cameras flash. And the moment he's out of the car, win or lose, he'seline straight to you. There are countless photos of you two plastered all over the internet: Lando holding your hand in the airport, Lando with his arm around your waist at team dinners, Lando stealing kisses in the garage between practice sessions. Your affection is constantly on display, and honestly, you've stopped trying to hide it. It's just... You two.

One of your favorites is a candid shot from Silverstone last year. It's raining, and you're huddled under an umbrella, Lando's face buried in your hair, his arms wrapped tightly around you. You can practically feel the warmth and comfort radiating from the picture. It's moments like those, captured by chance, that really tell your story.

"Lando, brilliant drive today. Talk us through that crucial overtake on lap 43..."

Lando's practically bouncing in his seat at the press conference, that post-race glow still radiating from him. "Yeah, so that move was actually something my girlfriend and I discussed last night. She noticed in the practice footage that there was this tiny window if you positioned just right, and—" He beams proudly. "She's got such an eye for these things, you know?"

"Um, right... Moving on to tire management—"

"Oh! Speaking of tires," Lando interrupts eagerly, "she actually made this amazing spreadsheet tracking tire degradation patterns. She's proper clever, my girlfriend. Did you know she—"

"Lando," the journalist tries again, "about the safety car period..."

"That was pretty tense, yeah. I was on the radio with my engineer, but all I could think about was this thing she told me about staying centered, right? You do meditation and—" He pauses, grinning at you in the back. "Sorry, she's pulling faces at me from the back. Isn't she cute when she's trying to get me to focus?"

Another journalist raises her hand. "Can we discuss the championship implications of today's victory?"

"Absolutely!" Lando nods seriously, then immediately breaks into another smile. "Actually, funny story – this morning at breakfast, she was saying... wait, where are you going?" He calls out to the departing journalists. "I haven't told you about how she helped me perfect my racing line!"

Max Verstappen, sitting next to him, just shakes his head with a knowing smirk. "Mate, they're going to rename these to 'Lando's Girlfriend Updates' instead of press conferences."

"Well, they should," Lando says with complete sincerity. "She's way more interesting than racing."

Later, during the post-race press conference, a journalist asks about his aggressive strategy during the middle stint. But Lando, being Lando, somehow manages to turn it into a story about how you'd helped him perfect his racing line through the swimming pool complex during simulator practice.

Your phone buzzes with a text from his race engineer: "Another 'my girlfriend' mention - that's 7 this weekend. New record? 😂"

The F1 Twitter account has already posted the clip, and the comments are flooding in: "Lando mentioning his gf challenge: IMPOSSIBLE DIFFICULTY" "Find someone who talks about you the way Lando talks about her 😭" "Petition to give her a mic during races since he clearly can't go 5 mins without consulting her 😂"

But that's just Lando. Whether he's at the track, doing interviews, or just hanging out at home playing sim racing, he's always reaching for your hand, always finding ways to be close. His enthusiasm isn't just about racing anymore - it's about sharing every moment, every victory, every challenge with you.

"You know they're making compilation videos of you talking about me in interviews, right?" you tell him later that evening.

He's sprawled on the hotel room couch, head in your lap, still buzzing from the win. "Only volume three? They're slacking," he grins, then gets that soft, sincere look that makes your heart skip. "Can't help it though, can I? Best thing that's ever happened to me, you are."

The funny thing is, nobody knows the half of it, from all the jokes about how he can't stop talking about you, memes, and compilation videos.

They don't see the quiet moments - the good luck texts before every practice session, the way he absentmindedly plays with your fingers during strategy meetings, how he still gets that awestruck look sometimes when he thinks you're not watching.

In a world of apex predators and millisecond margins, Lando Norris, McLaren's rising star, has somehow made your love story as much a part of his racing narrative as podiums and pole positions. And honestly? You wouldn't have it any other way.

[81pastrys]

Learning Dutch

Summary— Max finds a dirtier way for her to learn Dutch.

Warnings— smut ; riding ; creampie ; cock warming

A/N— so many more coming 🤭

Max One Shots

Dividers @bernardsbendystraws @dollywons

Request— So… I thought of something good! How about a cock warming with Max teaching the reader Dutch? But the reader does so well that he decides to move on. In the end, Max breaks down and ends up taking the reader to the couch. Something playful and hard. Thanks! -🫦

Max was pretty open with his girlfriend about not knowing Dutch for the longest time, but when she came to him asking to learn it he couldn’t say no. He thought it would be easy. She was usually a good listener, but when he would try to teach her she would doze off or state into space.

“What did you learn today?” He would ask. Sometimes she would say one or two words with a mispronunciation, but other than that she would stay silent. “Well if you aren’t going to pay attention I won’t teach you.” He shrugged.

She begged and begged for him to keep teaching her and that she would listen. He told her no, until he thought of an idea to keep her focused: sitting on his dick. He proposed the idea and she blushed profusely.

“I feel like that’s the only way you’ll pay attention, stuffed full.” He teased. “Maybe if you do good, I’ll reward you.” She agreed to try it with him. When they knew they had time and didn’t have to be up early, they got comfortable.

Max sitting back on the couch with her legs straddled along side his thighs. She sunk down slowly and bounced a little to tease, before he thrust all the way in and kept her there.

“I’m going to teach you nicknames today.” He started. She squirmed a little and he groaned at her, now bruising her hip with his grip. “Schatje. What does that mean?” He had told her before, that’s her usual nickname.

“Sweetheart.” She responded. He nodded and went down the list, liefde: love, angel: engel. She was getting all of them right. He upped it and said a sentence, she paused and blinked at him. “Um.. I know there’s good in the middle..”

“Het gaat zo goed met je.” He repeated. He gave her a pat on the ass to think harder. It clicked in her head and she remembered.

“You’re doing so good?” She asked with a smile. He smiled back and nodded that she was right. He did a few more shorter sentences and she got them after thinking on them.

He got tired of teaching her and she was doing so well anyways, so he started thrusting without warning. She jerked and moaned when he did. He chuckled and continued. “This is your reward schatje.” He whispered.

She matched his slow movements and they were moaning messes. He finally sped up his hips and grounded his feet for leverage. He watched her face contort into bliss and her mouth hang open.

“Yeah? Hoe voelt dat?” He asked. Her brain short circuited for a minute before she answered.

“It feels good, fuck Max.” She moaned. She moaned and whimpered into his shoulder, chasing her climax as she weakly met his hips. He shifted ever so slightly and she screamed out. “Right there! Max please!”

He chuckled as he hit the spot repeatedly. She started hitting his chest as she was on edge. Her climax tore a scream it of her and he slowed his movements, allowing her to grind down and ride out her high, literally. “So tight, god.” Max groaned, throwing his head back.

She grinded through the aftershocks and he came inside her, his hips twitching and jerking as his cum fills her insides. They stayed locked together for a few minutes while their breathing calmed.

“What did you learn?” He teased. She deadpanned to him and moved off of his lap. He smiled and she rolled her eyes, walking to the bathroom to clean herself up.

“That fucking keeps my attention span open longer.” She said seriously. He chuckled, joining her in cleaning up the mess. She turned the shower on and he pulled her in by her waist.

“Ik houd van je.” He whispered in her ear.

“I love you more Max.” She said back with a kiss.

It’s a bit short, but I wanted something else put out 🩷

@il0vereadingstuff @angelluv16 @pandabiiissh @kallanfiona @itznotsophia

[maxtermind]

ONE WHERE YOU HID A BABY FROM YOUR F1 EX!BOYFRIEND PT.2

( texts masterlist \ main masterlist \ let's talk )

★ : feat :: max verstappen, lewis hamilton, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri ★ : genre :: my irl bsf said i post too much angst so this isn’t angst

(part 1) (part 2)

©maxtermind // do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

★ : a/n :: ignore the typos, feedback and reblogs are appreciated!

[sharlsworld]

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆ the sainz effect — 𝐎𝐏𝟖𝟏 ❁

( 𝗈𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗋 𝗉𝗂𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗂 𝗑 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗓 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 ）

（ 𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒 ）𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗓 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝖿𝖾𝗐 𝖽𝗋𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗐𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋， 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗌 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝖺𝗉𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍？𝗆𝖺𝗒𝖻𝖾 𝖺 𝖼𝖾𝗋𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝗌𝗁𝗒 𝖺𝗎𝗌𝗌𝗂𝖾

✫ i kinda really hate this i got lazy at the end sorry

🝮

yn

liked by pierregasly and 1,834,175 others

yn i’ll be back japan 😋🫰🏽 kinda boring race, happy birthday oscariño, getting fined for having a tummy ache is crazy, me & lily were munching alllll weekend, 8/10

lilymhe My favorite date 🥰🥰

⤷ alex_albon sigh

lando you’re so cute

lando 😍😍😘😘🥰 i’d eat sushi for you btw

⤷ yn do it then

⤷ lando okay let me mentally prepare myself. let’s go to dinner tomorrow tonight

⤷ yn i do not like the way you said that

⤷ lando may we please go to dinner where i’ll eat sushi for you at 8pm tomorrow night sweet beautiful kind princess?

⤷ yn 👍

⤷ lando chat is that rizz

⤷ alex_albon never beating the norizz allegations

⤷ lando oh who is you

carlossainz55 Saying “tummy ache” at your big age is crazy

⤷ yn fuck i’m glad you got fined you bitch.

⤷ carlossainz55 I was just teasing bug don’t be upset with me please

⤷ yn shut up i don’t like you right now

oscarpiastri Thank you! 🥰❤️

⤷ nicolepiastri I didn’t even get a thank you that sweet Oscar

⤷ oscarpiastri Mommmmmmmm

francolapinto i miss you mami

⤷ yn i miss you too franco

charles_leclerc I think you should fly back to Monaco with me I need some consoling after that race you know? 😢😢

⤷ yn awhh poor baby come pick me up

⤷ charles_leclerc omw mon cœur

⤷ carlossainz55 No???

⤷ yn fuck out my face you cunt

⤷ yn take my stuff back with you too

⤷ carlossainz55 Guess I’m the butler now

⤷ yn obviously. don’t scratch my suitcase either or i’ll punch you in the throat

⤷ carlossainz55 Okay gyash 💔

maxverstappen1 Should’ve been in my garage

⤷ yn i was in your garage in china though

⤷ maxverstappen1 I just miss you schat

⤷ yn i miss you too maxie

⤷ redbullracing he’s giggling rn

lewishamilton Hey I had a bad race too

⤷ yn yeah but you took my brothers seat so…☹️

⤷ lewishamilton I’ll give it back I’ll drive the Williams

⤷ scuderiaferrari No??

⤷ lewishamilton Such a cockblock 😒

🝮

lando

liked by oscarpiastri and 1,455,163 others

lando just ate sushi no biggie

yn good boyyyyy

⤷ lando my pants were JUST on

⤷ carlossainz55 No i’m sorry bug you have to find someone else lando has too big of a playboy reputation. Sorry lando.

⤷ lando oh but when she does it it’s okay?

⤷ yn what are you trying to say?? cause i’ve never done anything with any of the drivers. i think i’ve kissed charles twice

⤷ charles_leclerc thrice…and it was amazing

⤷ lando nothing you’re perfect babylove you can do wrong cause you’re so perfect and beautiful and amazing and smart and kind and funny

⤷ yn yeah that’s what i thought

maxverstappen1 Fuck you’re beautiful

⤷ yn aw thanks maxie 🥰

⤷ maxverstappen1 of course baby

⤷ alex_albon looks like max is going up in the lineup

⤷ danielricciardo wait tell me who’s winning wtf

⤷ alex_albon 1. charles 2. lando 3. max 4. lewis 5. franco

⤷ charles_leclerc fuck yeah

⤷ lando how am i not number 1 i just ate fucking sushi for her

⤷ francolapinto fuck me than damn

olliebearman bro ate an ice cream sundae while lando was conquering his biggest fear

⤷ lando hey don’t make her sound bad i loved it so much i didn’t even gag. breathing exercises work guys

charles_leclerc 😾 she likes me more

⤷ lando and what makes you think that?

⤷ charles_leclerc we’ve literally kissed thrice. THAT MEANS SOMETHING. and, she hangouts with my family so

⤷ lando oh yeah? she hangouts with my family too and me and her dad go golfing together SO HA

⤷ charles_leclerc oh yeah? really? me, her, her mom, and her sisters went out to brunch in spain last year SO HAHA I WIN

⤷ lando FAWK

⤷ yn guys…no…stop...seriously

⤷ lando whatever you say babylove

⤷ charles_leclerc whatever you say mon cœur

🝮

yn

liked by badgalriri and 1,785,302 others

yn 🍉🍓🍒

charles_leclerc so radiant 😍 let’s kiss 🌹

⤷ yn no ❤️

⤷ charles_leclerc aw man 💔

lilymhe My beautiful babe 😩😍😍

iamrebeccad The most gorgeous girl 😍😍😍❤️

francisca.cgomes oh girl i’ll be stealing that dress 🥰 you look so sexy 🫦🫦

⤷ yn omg i’m blushing

oscarpiastri 😍

⤷ carlossainz55 Oscar?

⤷ charles_leclerc wtf oscar you’re my son

⤷ lando my own teammate? 💔💔💔

⤷ maxverstappen1 Oscar I’ll push lando off the track in bahrain if you cut all contact with y/n…promise

⤷ francolapinto b-but you said you’d learn spanish for me… was that a lie??? a disguise?

⤷ pierregasly yoooooo get in there oscar

⤷ lewishamilton 😐

oscarpiastri Very pretty

⤷ yn thank you oscariño 🥰🥰

⤷ georgerussell63 Oh! Just in we have a new man in competition for y/n’s heart, things just got crazy. Who will get the final rose? Stay tuned

⤷ charles_leclerc fuck my life

⤷ lando naurrr don’t do this to me

⤷ lewishamilton i’m literally richer than him

⤷ francolapinto AGHGDHEJSJDNENS

⤷ maxverstappen1 Guys, she’s obviously gonna choose me. Just back out now

⤷ charles_leclerc fuh nah i have the best chance out of everyone else we’re literally neighbors

⤷ lando ok and i go on her family vacations??

⤷ francolapinto yk what, i quit

⤷ lewishamilton me too 💔🥀

⤷ georgerussell63 JUST IN FRANCO COLAPINTO AND LEWIS HAMILTON ARE DROPPING OUT OF THE COMPETITION FOR Y/N’S HEART

⤷ kimi.antonelli touch grass

⤷ georgerussell63 You cannot be talking rn

⤷ kimi.antonelli you right you right

🝮

yn

liked by nicolepiastri and 1,890,502 others

yn p1 for oscariño, p3 for lan, dnf for carlitos (you’ve been a bad boy yuki), 7/10

carlossainz55 At least you still have my back when you’re mad at me

⤷ yn yeah now can you bring me a shirley temple

⤷ carlossainz55 Making it now 😒

oscarpiastri Maybe you were my good luck charm, you should hangout in my garage more

⤷ lando 😾😾

charles_leclerc You looked so beautiful in the paddock mon cœur ❤️

⤷ yn awh thanks charlie 🥰

lando why did oscar get cute pictures and i got the one where i wasn’t paying attention

⤷ yn well why wasn’t your attention on me???

⤷ lando please don’t guilt trip me right now i’ll cry

⤷ yn whatever get me sushi

⤷ lando going right now

⤷ georgerussell63 Thoughtless obedience, I love to see it

⤷ lando frick off

nicolepiastri I can’t believe you got Oscar to pose for a picture so easily, and with such a big smile too! 😂

⤷ oscarpiastri Mom, please.

⤷ maxverstappen1 Okay I didn’t push lando off the track but you still won!!

⤷ yn ???

⤷ maxverstappen1 I quit, I’m going out tonight

⤷ yn stay safe maxie 😊

⤷ maxverstappen1 Always schat

⤷ alex_albon wait i’m gonna cry that was so 🥲

⤷ georgerussell63 With a bittersweet goodbye, Max Verstappen drops out of the competition leaving Lando, Charles, and Oscar. We’ll be back next week folks.

🝮

oscarpiastri

liked by iamrebeccad and 1,615,243 others

oscarpiastri She said she knew a spot

yn do you like my fab oscar???

⤷ oscarpiastri What’s that?

⤷ lando i like it babylove

⤷ oscarpiastri What’s a fab?

⤷ charles_leclerc I love it mon cœur

⤷ oscarpiastri WHAT IS A FAB??????

⤷ yn fuck ass bob 😾

⤷ oscarpiastri Oh yes I love your fab honey!

⤷ charles_leclerc HONEY??? WERE LOSING HER LANDO

⤷ lando can’t we just be a throuple + one? ☹️

reyesvdec So cute! ❤️

♥︎ by author

georgerussell63 In the city of love? 👀

yn i love traveling with you oscar

⤷ oscarpiastri I love traveling with you too honey

lando friends, family, fans, it is with great sorrow that i admit that i, lando norris, drop out of this competition. i will be going out tonight

⤷ yn stay safe lan 🥰

⤷ lando always babylove. i’ll always cherish our time we spent together

⤷ yn we’ll always have miami

⤷ lando always

⤷ yn so i’ll see you in a few days at dinner with my family right?

⤷ lando of course

⤷ georgerussell63 And then there were two, the competition dwindles down to Charles and Oscar after Lando surprisingly drops out of the competition with a heartfelt goodbye just a few days after Max dropped out. They’ll always have Miami, see you soon folks.

🝮

yn

liked by francisca.cgomes and 1,185,907 others

yn kinda nervous

carlossainz55 Dafuq 🤨

oscarpiastri ❤️

⤷ carlossainz55 DAFUQ

⤷ charles_leclerc DAFUQ

⤷ charles_leclerc no mi mon cœur

⤷ lando dis gur

nicolepiastri 🥰🥰❤️

alex_albon i smell someone else dropping out of the competition 👁️👁️

olliebearman first date kinda nervyy

⤷ carlossainz55 Ollie don’t make me call Charles.

⤷ olliebearman Party pooper.

charles_leclerc Ladies, with gentle hands…I come to this comment section today to announce that I will be dropping out of the competition, it’s been a great few years and we’ve shared many great moments together but it’s time, I quit. Catch me at the club tonight.

⤷ yn stay safe charlie ☺️

⤷ charles_leclerc always mon cœur

⤷ yn i’ll always remember us sneaking off in the middle of the night and just talking

⤷ charles_leclerc i would listen to you for hours mon cœur

⤷ carlossainz55 Oh so you’re a slut.

⤷ georgerussell63 And with that, we’re left with the last one standing, the one who joined last, the one who no one thought would win, the one that stole the heart of y/n. We have the winner of the competition, the man, the myth, the one who gets the final rose, Oscar Piastri. What a ride that was, thanks for following along folks.

🝮

oscarpiastri

liked by charles_leclerc and 2,704,186 others

oscarpiastri my honey 💛

yn my babyyyy 🩷🩷🩷🩷

danielricciardo Aussie’s on top

⤷ yn oh he’s on top alright

⤷ carlossainz55 DAFUQ

⤷ yn jkjk (not jk)

⤷ carlossainz55 STOP

⤷ charles_leclerc Oh I know Oscar is never bored

iamrebeccad the sainz effect is real

yn you’re so sweet i wish australians were real

⤷ oscarpiastri ???

pierregasly What a love story, i’m getting emotional I just need a minute 🥹

kimi.antonelli HAHAHA OLLIE OWES ME 5 THOUSAND DOLLARS AHAHAHAHAHAH

⤷ olliebearman darn it 😒

⤷ yn wtf??

⤷ olliebearman i had my bet on charles

⤷ pierregasly Me too I thought those bitches we’re getting married. So happy for Osc though this is so sweet 🥹

⤷ olliebearman let’s get you back to bed grandpa

georgerussell63 The last man standing, thanks for following along this crazy love story folks. ❤️

[itsnesss]

𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐥𝐚𝐩 | max verstappen × fem!reader

summary | after a painful fight, you tell max not to come back—win or lose. but after the race, he returns, confesses he loves you, and chooses you over everything else

warnings | angst, emotional confrontation, brief mention of emotional breakdown, intense romantic tension, emotional vulnerability

word count | 0.8 k

The rain lashes against the Red Bull tent with fury, as if the sky knows exactly what you're feeling.

The race just ended. The roar of the engines has faded, fireworks burst in the sky with colors you can’t see. Everything is noise, but all you hear is a dull buzz. Because he’s not here. Not yet.

Max should be celebrating. Another podium. Another record. Another reason for the world to admire him… but you know something in him broke today. Just like you.

You lean against the wet wall of the paddock, trembling. Not because of the cold. Not because of the rain. It’s because of what you told him before he got into the car.

"Don’t come back. Win or lose, don’t come back."

And he heard you. He looked at you one last time with those intense blue eyes you swore never to see again, and he said nothing. Just nodded.

And you wanted to scream.

You were the one who started this. You were the one who crossed the line. The journalist who was supposed to stay neutral. The professional who fell in love with the man behind the helmet. The one who never wanted to share his life outside the circuits, but who let his guard down with you.

"You're playing with fire," Checo warned once, looking at you with a mix of pity and concern.

"I'm not playing." That’s what you said. And it was true.

This was never a game.

Max isn’t easy. He doesn’t love easily. But when he does, he gives it all. And that makes him more dangerous than any corner at 300 km/h.

The relationship became intense, silent, and desperate. Secrets shared in hotel rooms. Stolen glances during interviews. The nights after races, when the world paused and only his fingers tracing your back existed, his voice whispering your name in the dark.

But you wanted more. Always more.

And he couldn’t give you that.

“I’m not that kind of person. I can’t be. This world… this is all I have,” he once said, hands trembling after a win in Spa. You were sitting on his lap, the trophy still on the table, but his gaze was elsewhere. Empty.

You understood, but you didn’t accept it.

And today… today was the final break.

You pushed him. Demanded he choose. Choose you. Just once.

But Max Verstappen doesn’t choose. He races. Races to escape, races to win. Races not to feel.

You run your hands over your face, trying to smother the pain burning in your chest.

Then you see him.

Walking toward you, suit half undone, soaked from the rain and adrenaline still pulsing through his veins. His eyes find yours and everything inside you freezes.

“You’re still here?” His voice is low but clear.

You nod. You can’t speak.

He stops in front of you. Silence. You can almost hear his breathing.

“I shouldn’t have come,” you finally say, unable to meet his gaze.

“And yet, you did.” His tone isn’t harsh. It’s real. Raw.

You feel tears sting, but you don’t let them fall.

“Why did you come back?”

“Because I won.” A pause. “And because I don’t want to win everything… and lose you.”

Your eyes meet his, surprised. His expression hasn’t changed. But his words hit like a punch to the chest.

“I don’t understand,” you whisper. “You said—”

“I said I couldn’t choose.” He takes a step closer. “But you pushed me. And for the first time, I was afraid you’d really leave.”

The rain intensifies. But you’re already drenched. Already broken.

“Max…”

“I love you.” He says it without hesitation. Like he’s known it forever. Like saying it doesn’t tear him apart. “I knew it since the first time you corrected me on camera. Since you weren’t afraid of me. Since you didn’t care who I was.”

Your heart is pounding so hard it hurts.

“And yeah,” he continues. “This won’t be easy. It never will. But I’d rather crash a thousand times on track than watch you walk away again.”

You step closer. He doesn’t move. He just watches you. Soaked, exhausted, vulnerable. Human.

“I love you too,” you murmur. “Even when you break me.”

A small smile touches his lips. “Then we’re even.”

He takes your hand, and for the first time, there’s no rush. No time. No cameras.

Just you. And Max.

And even if the world keeps roaring outside, you know this is the only race that matters.

And you’ve just crossed the finish line with him.

[cressidagrey]

White Horse - Chapter 14: March 2024

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Isabelle Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen is a World Champion. Isabelle Leclerc is invisible.

She watched her family give up everything for Charles’ career—Arthur’s karting, their father’s savings, even her childhood horse. She understood. She never asked for more.

But Max does. He notices the things no one else does, listens when no one else will, and puts her first in ways she never imagined. With him, she isn’t an afterthought—she’s a choice. And for the first time, she realizes she doesn’t have to be invisible.

Warnings and Notes: 

we have now moved on from Charles bashing to bashing his whole family, Discussions of toxic past relationships, talk about loosing a childhood pet, toxic families, Me trying to write therapy sessions.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Gianpiero Lambiase

Isabelle: Hi GP, Um. This is Isabelle. Belle. Max’s Belle. Sorry for texting you out of nowhere. I hope it’s okay.

GP: Hi Belle. It’s okay. Max talks about you enough that it feels overdue, honestly.

Belle: Oh. Good.

GP: He’s very annoying about it. In a way that’s almost endearing.

Belle: Haha. Sorry.

GP: Don’t apologize. What’s up?

Belle: So… I’m in Bahrain. And I want to surprise Max. Like, sneak into his hotel room before he gets back from practice. Very harmless. Very stealthy. Zero crime.

GP: Did your doctor clear you to travel?

Isabelle: Yes. I have a note and everything.

GP: Because if you’re here without medical clearance and something happens, Max will kill me. And then probably reanimate me and kill me again.

Belle: I promise. I’m cleared. I’ll send you the doctor’s note if you need it.

GP: Good. Because if I was going to help sneak you in, it needed to be a guilt-free crime.

Belle: You’ll help?

GP: Belle, if surprising Max with you magically appearing in his hotel room gets him to stop moping around like a man whose soul was ripped out, I will personally carry you upstairs myself if needed.

Belle: You’re very good at emotional blackmail. I respect that.

GP: I learned from the best. (Max.)

Belle: Okay. I’m at the hotel now. Should I just wait nearby?

GP: Yeah. Give me 10 minutes. I’ll text you when the coast is clear.

Belle: Thank you, GP. Really. I know you didn’t have to.

GP: You’re good for him. That’s all I need to know.

***

The hallway was dim and quiet when Max stepped out of the elevator, still half in race mode — muscle memory from practice laps thrumming through his veins, sweat drying at the back of his neck.

He dug for his key card automatically, mind already turning toward data reviews and hydration schedules, as he opened the door of his Hotel room. 

And then he looked up.

And stopped dead.

Because there, lounging on the couch in his Hotel room in Bahrain, wearing a loose fitting dress, her hair damp from a shower she must have just taken - was her. 

Belle.

Waiting for him.

Max blinked once.

Twice.

He genuinely thought, for a heartbeat, that he was hallucinating.

"Hi," she said, smiling — a real smile, tired but so real — like she hadn’t nearly died two weeks ago, like she hadn’t ripped his heart out and stitched it back together in the same breath.

"Hi," Max said hoarsely, voice cracking slightly.

She stood up slowly, careful, and Max could see the faint traces of bruises still painting her collarbone under the neckline of her dress.

He didn’t think.

He crossed the hallway in three long strides and gathered her into his arms, pulling her against his chest so tightly she squeaked.

Belle laughed — a soft, breathless sound — and buried her face against his shoulder.

"You’re here," Max murmured, like he still couldn’t believe it, like he had to say it out loud just to make it real. "You’re actually here."

"I missed you," Belle whispered into his shirt. "I wanted to surprise you."

"You’re going to kill me one day, you know that?" he said, laughing wetly against her hair. "Heart attack at 26."

She pulled back just enough to look up at him, hands still clutching the fabric of his shirt.

"You’re not mad?"

"Mad?" Max shook his head, jaw tight with emotion. "Belle, I’m—" He broke off, swallowing hard. "I’m so fucking glad you’re here, I don’t even have words for it."

Her eyes shone a little too brightly, but her smile was steady.

"I’m cleared to travel," she said quickly, reading the worry still written across his face. "I’m fine. I’m okay."

Max leaned down and kissed her forehead — a soft, reverent brush of lips — before resting his forehead against hers.

"I thought you were at home," he said, voice low and rough. "Resting."

Belle gave a tiny, guilty smile.

"Technically, I am resting," she said. "Just... here."

Max huffed a breathless laugh — half relief, half something too big to name.

"And how exactly," he murmured, pulling back to raise an eyebrow at her, "did you sneak into a fully-booked F1 team hotel?"

Belle bit her bottom lip, eyes sparkling.

"GP might have helped a little."

Max stared at her for a beat — then burst out laughing, pressing a kiss against her forehead.

"Of course he did," he said, voice shaking slightly with laughter and something dangerously close to tears.

Belle beamed up at him, utterly unrepentant.

"He even texted me like it was a spy mission," she added proudly. "I think he had fun."

Max shook his head, still smiling, overwhelmed by how much he loved her.  

"He's going to regret that when I promote him from race engineer to full-time Belle smuggler."

Belle laughed, wrapping her arms tighter around his waist.

"You’re not mad?"

Max kissed the top of her head, breathing her in like he still couldn’t believe she was real.

"Mad?" he echoed. "No. You’re here. You’re safe. That’s all I’ll ever care about."

She tucked her face into his chest, and Max just held her there — steady, grounding her, grounding himself.

***

Arthur spotted her near the Ferrari hospitality entrance, and for a long second, he honestly thought he was seeing things.

Isabelle —

Here?

In Bahrain?

He frowned, confused, slowing his steps.

She wasn’t supposed to be here.

No one had said anything.

She hadn’t said anything.

Not in the family chat.

Not in any of the bland, polite “good luck” texts she sent before race weekends.

Arthur crossed the walkway toward her before he could overthink it.

“Isabelle?” he called, blinking against the bright sun.

She turned, smiling when she saw him — but it was a small, careful kind of smile.

Not the bright, easy one he remembered.

“Hey, Arthur,” she said softly.

He stopped in front of her, feeling weirdly awkward.

“You didn’t say you were coming,” he said, trying for teasing but it came out too sharp, too defensive.

“I didn’t know I was coming until a few days ago,” Isabelle said, shrugging one shoulder. “Doctor cleared me. Figured I’d make the trip.”

Arthur’s eyes flicked over her automatically — and caught, despite himself, on the faint bruising still along her temple, the shadows along her collarbone.

He looked away quickly.

Pretended he hadn’t seen it.

“You look fine,” he said too quickly. “You are fine, right?”

Isabelle’s smile faltered.

“I’m… better,” she said after a beat. “Still a little bruised. But yeah. I’m okay.”

Arthur nodded, desperate to believe it.

“Good,” he said, forcing a casual shrug. “We were all worried.”

Were we? a voice whispered in the back of his mind, but he shoved it down.

Isabelle looked at him for a long second, her expression unreadable.

“You didn’t ask,” she said lightly. Not accusatory. Just stating a fact.

Arthur blinked.

“What?”

“After the accident,” she said. “None of you really asked what happened. You just… assumed I was fine.”

Arthur opened his mouth. Closed it.

He didn’t know what to say to that — not without admitting that he hadn’t wanted to ask.

Hadn’t wanted to know.

Because if she wasn’t fine —

If she had been hurt worse than a few bruises and a night in the hospital —

Then what did that say about him? About all of them?

Arthur shifted his weight, uncomfortable.

“You’re here now,” he said finally, as if that proved something.

As if her survival was enough to erase everything else.

Isabelle smiled again — but it was a different kind of smile this time.

Tired. A little sad.

“Yeah,” she said. “I’m here.”

And for the first time, Arthur wondered if maybe — just maybe — that wasn’t as simple as it sounded.

***

Lily hadn’t been trying to find anyone in particular — she'd just been wandering the paddock in search of ice cream.

It was so hot, that she really, really needed ice cream before she melted into a puddle of useless girlfriend.

Oscar had pointed her in the vague direction of the food vendors before dashing off for driver obligations, so Lily wandered across the paddock, sunglasses perched precariously on her head, following her nose (and the general vibe of "ice cream is this way").

She was halfway there when she spotted her.

A girl — no, a young woman — perched casually near one of the vendor stands, flipping through her phone with an easy kind of grace, looking completely at home despite the chaos around her.

At first, Lily didn't recognize her. She just noticed the calm. The way people instinctively gave her space without even realizing it. Like the eye of a storm.

Then she realized.

Isabelle Leclerc.

Charles’ sister.

The one who somehow existed on the very edge of all the chaos — always close enough to be there, but never quite tangled up in it.

Belle. The girl who had rescued Oscar from buying “the ugliest couch in existence in Monaco.”

Oscar had mentioned her, in the same tone you'd use for someone you admired without quite knowing how to say it.

Lily hesitated — torn between her mission for ice cream and her deep-rooted manners that said go say hi, you dork.

She picked manners.

"Hi," Lily said, smiling as she approached.

Isabelle looked up, and for a second, Lily thought maybe she'd made a mistake — maybe she was interrupting something.

But then Isabelle smiled back — soft and real — and it was like being wrapped in sunshine.

"Hi," Isabelle said warmly. "You're Oscar's Lily, right?"

Lily laughed, a little breathless with surprise. "I guess so."

"Finally, we meet properly. Belle Leclerc," Belle said, tucking her phone away. "You heading somewhere, or are you just braving the paddock chaos for the experience?"

"Ice cream," Lily admitted. "Desperately."

Belle laughed — a real laugh, the kind that made you want to laugh too. "Good instincts. It's basically a survival tactic in this weather."

Lily grinned, a little more relaxed now. "You wouldn't happen to know where the best vendor is, would you?"

Belle tilted her head thoughtfully, like she was considering the great philosophical question of their time. "There's a stand near the back of the McLaren motorhome," she said. "Less crowded, better flavors. Also, the guy running it doesn’t skimp on sprinkles if you look appropriately pitiful."

Lily beamed. "You’re a lifesaver."

"Come on," Belle said, already falling into step beside her. "I'll show you. It’s basically my civic duty."

Belle tucked a strand of caramel coloured hair behind her ear and Lily suddenly saw the faint bruising still lingering along Belle’s temple and just under her collarbone where her dress dipped at the neck.  

The sight made something twist sharply in Lily’s chest.

"I—" she started, then bit her lip. "I just wanted to say… I’m really glad you’re okay."

Belle blinked, clearly surprised.

"I heard about the crash," Lily said quickly, "Oscar told me it was serious."   She trailed off, feeling weirdly emotional for a person who barely knew her.

Belle’s expression softened even more — touched, a little shy.

"Thank you," she said, voice a little rougher around the edges. "I was really lucky."

Lily smiled, relieved.

"And also," Lily said, remembering, "thank you for helping Oscar with his apartment. He said you saved him from living in chaos forever."

Belle laughed again, covering her mouth. "He’s exaggerating."

"No, he’s really not," Lily said earnestly. "He had one pot and like three mismatched plates before you intervened."

Belle giggled. "I just gave him a list."

"And apparently taught him the existence of rugs and throw pillows," Lily said with a wink. "You’re a hero."

Belle was still laughing, her eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that made her seem even younger, even softer.

Lily found herself smiling so hard her cheeks hurt.

Without really thinking, she said:

"I’m really glad we ran into each other."

"Me too," Belle said, and this time there wasn’t a trace of hesitation.

And just like that — without ceremony or fanfare — Lily was swept up into Belle’s orbit. Adopted. Collected. Claimed.

No big declarations. No awkwardness.

Just a steady, unspoken you’re one of mine now.

Lily understood immediately how it had happened to Oscar.

And why Oscar had looked so quietly smug about it ever since.

As they made their way through the paddock together, Belle offering casual commentary on the chaos around them, Lily thought maybe — just maybe — this whole world felt a little less overwhelming when you had someone like Belle at your side.

Two girls who hadn’t meant to find each other in the chaos of the paddock — but who did anyway.

***

Text Messages: Lily Zneimer & Oscar Piastri

Lily: I just met Belle.

Lily: At the ice cream stand!!

Lily: We both went for survival ice cream.

Lily: It was fate.

Oscar: Oh no. What did you do.

Lily: EXCUSE ME.

Lily: I was adorable.

Lily: SHE was adorable.

Lily: We’re best friends now.

Oscar: That tracks.

Lily: Oscar. OSCAR.

Oscar: What.

Lily: I get it.

Lily: I GET IT.

Lily: Why you’re obsessed with her.

Lily: She’s sunshine wrapped in a cardigan and stubbornness.

Oscar: Yeah. She’s Belle. Everyone’s a little obsessed with her. Max just got there first.

Lily: Also she’s still got bruises from the crash and she was just out here smiling like a total champ.

Lily: I wanted to wrap her in bubble wrap.

Oscar: Trust me. Max is already trying. If he could put her in a Volvo made of titanium, he would.

Lily: Tell him to let me help.

Lily: I’m small but scrappy.

Oscar:  I’ll pass along the message. He’ll appreciate the reinforcements.

Lily: I’m serious. I love her already.

****

Meanwhile on Twitter: 

@/F1Overheard: Isabelle Leclerc and Lily Zneimer spotted getting ice cream together in the paddock today. New power duo just dropped???

@/Turn1Drama:  Not to be dramatic but I would lay down my life for Isabelle and Lily within 0.2 seconds of meeting them.

@/F1Receipts: Ok but… zoom in. Look at Isabelle’s collarbone.  There’s… bruising???

photo attached: Belle smiling with Lily, faint purple fading along her neck/collarbone visible above her dress

@GridGirlsUnited: WAIT. WHY DOES ISABELLE HAVE BRUISES.

@/FerrariFeverDreams: Isabelle Leclerc is the blueprint for moving through the world with quiet grace and still kicking life’s ass.

@/F1WAGUpdates:  UMMM??? ISABELLE LECLERC AND LILY (OSCAR'S GIRLFRIEND) SPOTTED GETTING ICE CREAM IN BAHRAIN?? HELLO??? THE POWER DUO I NEVER KNEW I NEEDED????

@/gridgirlconfessions:  not to be dramatic but Isabelle taking lily under her wing is the SOFTEST THING EVER.  I’m literally going to cry in the paddock rn

@turn1meltdown also. not to be That Person but did anyone else notice... Isabelle has bruises?? I am pretty sure she covered one at her forehead with makeup. but you can see one on her shoulder when her dress fell down  as she got ice cream??

@/tinfoiltires: not to start a conspiracy but…do you think she is dating Lando?! I mean she is hanging out with Oscar’s girlfriend. 

@/paddockprotectionagency: There is literally no evidence for that. At all. 

@/F1TeaTime:  ISABELLE LECLERC AND LILY PIASTRI SPOTTED TOGETHER IN BAHRAIN:  GIRL GANG FORMING ALERT.

@PaddockSpy Isabelle "please don't perceive me" Leclerc and Lily "mystery personified" Zneimer together is EXACTLY the energy the paddock needs.

@/McLarenMayhem Oscar spotted hovering around Lily and Isabelle like a guard dog. Lando too???

@/PitLaneDrama:  Theory: Isabelle was hurt recently. Not racing related (obviously). Something serious enough that the whole grid knows but fans are only now noticing.

@/FerrariFanForum: idk what's happening but if someone hurt Isabelle Leclerc I fully believe half the paddock would riot.

@/f1overheard:  also... are we gonna talk about the fact that Belle still has bruises on her arms??? Faded but definitely there??? Is she okay??? Who do I need to fight???

@/chaosinsector1: She’s laughing and walking and eating ice cream but seeing those bruises on Belle actually made me want to fistfight a drunk driver in the middle of Bahrain.

***

Text Messages: Oscar Piastri & Max Verstappen

Oscar: Mate. Did my girlfriend just get adopted by your girlfriend??

Max: Good. Belle needs more allies.

Oscar: They went for ice cream and now Lily’s acting like she’s been knighted into the Order of Belle.

Max: She has. There’s no going back.

Oscar: ...is this what happened to me?

Max: Yes. You just didn’t notice. It’s stealthy like that.

Oscar: Incredible.

Max: Also — Can you tell Lily to keep an eye on her?

Oscar: Belle?

Max: Yeah. Doctor cleared her for travel, but… She’s good at pretending she’s fine when she isn’t.

Oscar: Got it. I’ll tell Lily. (But I think she already clocked that. She’s weirdly good at reading people.)

Max: So is Belle. That’s probably why they found each other. But yeah. Just… make sure she rests. If she starts acting like she’s invincible, let me know.

Oscar: Copy that. Spy network: activated.

Max: Appreciate it. You get one free pass next time I accidentally block you in quali.

Oscar: Noted. I’ll save it for when it hurts the most.

***

Belle had just been laughing at something Lily said — something about Oscar’s catastrophic ability to pick good ice cream flavors — when she felt it.

That snap in the air.

The sudden chill.

She turned — and sure enough, there was Charles, storming across the paddock toward them with thunderclouds practically radiating off him.

Belle stiffened instinctively.

Oscar noticed too — his easy grin faltering. He had had flopped into a seat beside them minutes ago, looking amused but exhausted after media duties. Lando Norris had joined them too, fresh from a sponsor event, stealing a spoonful of Belle’s icecram like a menace. 

Lando now looked like he was considering dropping his spoon and running.

“Isabelle,” Charles barked, sharp enough that it turned a few heads.

Belle straightened, fighting the instinct to brace herself.

“Hi, Charles,” she said evenly. “Good afternoon to you too."

He didn’t bother with greetings.

He didn’t even glance at the others.

His glare locked onto her like a missile.

He pointed dramatically at Lando, who looked like a deer in headlights.

"Are you dating him?!"

Dead silence.

Belle stared at her brother, mouth slightly open, frozen mid-bite.

Before she could even start responding, Lando erupted:

"WHAT?? NO. OH MY GOD, NO."

He flailed so hard he nearly knocked over his chair.

"I would never!" he blurted, panicked.

Oscar looked like he wanted to sink into the ground and disappear.

Lily was visibly biting her lip, fighting back laughter.

Belle closed her eyes very slowly, inhaled through her nose, and set her cup down carefully on the table.

"First of all," she said icily, "even if I were dating someone, that’s absolutely none of your business."

Charles opened his mouth to argue.

Belle held up a hand. "I’m not done."

Charles froze.

"Second," Belle continued, voice sharp, "I am not dating Lando. I was laughing at a joke about Oscar thinking that horseradish is an ice cream flavour that should exist, thank you very much."

Oscar made a helpless noise of protest. Lily patted his arm sympathetically.

"And third," Belle said, her eyes narrowing, "I would like to remind you that last year, you accused me of flirting with GP because we had a five-minute conversation about kitchen backsplashes."

Oscar actually choked on his yogurt.

Lando snorted so loudly he nearly fell out of his chair.

Charles, flushing red, spluttered, "That was — that was different!"

"Was it?" Belle said, crossing her arms. "Was it really, Charles? I am an adult," she said crisply. "I am capable of talking to men without planning a wedding, thank you."

Belle took a slow step forward, closing the space between them — not enough to make a scene, but enough that he had to really look at her.

At the fading bruises on her skin.

At the shadows under her eyes.

At the way she stood — a little too still, a little too tired — but standing all the same.

“I survived a car crash two weeks ago,” Belle said, voice quiet but razor-sharp. “I’m allowed to eat ice cream with my friends without needing your permission, Charles.”

He opened his mouth like he wanted to argue — to scold her somehow, as if she hadn’t earned the right to live her life on her own terms — but for once, no words came out.

Belle didn’t wait for them either.

***

Group Chat: HELP ME

(Members: Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri, Daniel Ricciardo, Carlos Sainz Jr. and Lewis Hamilton)

Lando: I’M GOING TO DIE.

Lando: I’M ACTUALLY GOING TO DIE.

Carlos: What happened now?

Lando: CHARLES. CHARLES HAPPENED.

Lando: HE THINKS I’M DATING BELLE.

Lewis: Wait, dating?? What did you do?

Lando: NOTHING. WE TALKED ABOUT ICE CREAM TOPPINGS.

Daniel: …please tell me you’re joking.

Oscar:  He’s not. 

Lando: I SWEAR.

Lando: I WAS TALKING ABOUT OREOS.

Lando: AND SPRINKLES.

Lando: AND NOW I’M A DEAD MAN.

Daniel: This is incredible. Never change.

Carlos: Sprinkles = romantic commitment now. Good to know.

Lando: CHARLES LOOKED AT ME LIKE HE WAS ALREADY DIGGING THE GRAVE.

Lando: I’M INNOCENT.

Oscar: Tell it to the judge. (aka Charles.)

Lando: I NEED WITNESSES.

Lewis: Your Honor, all he did was sprinkle some toppings.

Daniel: GUILTY. Of flirting with ice cream.

Oscar: Death by suspicious glances.

Lando: THIS IS A MISCARRIAGE OF JUSTICE.

Carlos: Charles said guilty. Sprinkle boy must suffer.

Lando: I HATE YOU ALL.

Oscar: Love you too, Sprinkle Boy.

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Max Verstappen

Isabelle: Update from the chaos front: Charles now thinks I’m dating Lando.

Max: First GP. Now Lando. Who’s next? Helmut?

Isabelle: PLEASE.

Max: Imagine explaining that one to the family.

Isabelle: At this point I think they’d believe anything. I just need to talk to someone and apparently it’s a full-blown scandal.

Max: Good thing you already have a secret boyfriend. ME. 

Isabelle: The only one that matters. (And the only one who would never judge my ice cream topping choices.)

Max: Correct. As your official and only secret boyfriend, I feel like maybe it’s time to make you an honest woman.

Isabelle: Max.

Max: All I’m saying is if you wore a ring, maybe Charles would stop suspecting every man who breathes near you.

Isabelle: You’re lucky you’re cute.

Max: I’m lucky for a lot of reasons. You’re the biggest one.

***

David Coulthard had been around Formula One long enough to notice things.

He noticed when a driver had a new sponsor before anyone said a word.

He noticed when a pit crew moved two tenths faster than last season.

And he noticed — very easily — when something was going on off-track.

It started with Max.

Max was... Different.

Still sharp, still competitive — God help anyone who thought the fire had gone — but... softer around the edges, somehow.

 Less likely to bite a journalist’s head off.

 Laughing more. Smiling — smiling! — during media duties instead of looking like he wanted to physically vanish into the concrete.

David had filed it away, mildly amused.

 Maybe maturity.

 Maybe something else.

But then Bahrain happened.

And David saw her.

He was standing near the Red Bull hospitality tent, making small talk with Christian Horner about the new season, when he caught the sight of her.

Isabelle Leclerc.

Charles' little sister.

 Quiet. Polite. Always seemed to hover just outside the spotlight.

She was walking across the paddock, a small tote bag slung over one shoulder, sunglasses perched on her head — casual, unnoticed by most of the chaos around her.

Except Max noticed.

Max, who’d been standing half-turned, mid-conversation with a Red Bull engineer, stopped mid-sentence when he saw her.

David watched — curious, instinct pricking at the back of his neck — as Max’s entire face softened.

Not just fond — no, no.

Absolutely gone.

Max excused himself a little too quickly. Caught up with her a few paces later, walking just a little too close, talking low and quiet.

David tilted his head, observing like a man watching a slow car crash — except it wasn’t a crash at all. It was... intimate.

Isabelle laughed at something Max said — and David watched Max practically beam like a golden retriever who’d just been handed a steak.

He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully.

Well, well, well.

Later that afternoon, while pretending to be busy near the media center, David caught another moment.

Isabelle was perched on the low wall near the Red Bull motorhome, sipping from a bottle of water, flipping through something on her phone.

Max came out the door — helmet in hand, race suit half unzipped — and immediately bee-lined toward her.

Not toward the engineers.

Not toward the debrief room.

 Her.

And when he thought no one was looking, Max leaned down and pressed a kiss — soft, fast, familiar — to the top of her head.

David raised his eyebrows.

Oh, it wasn’t just a thing.

It wasn’t casual.

It wasn’t nothing.

This was serious.

And judging by how utterly comfortable they were — how instinctively they gravitated toward each other without even thinking — it had been serious for a while.

David smirked to himself, pulling out his phone.

Text to Mark Webber:I bet you a bottle of wine Max Verstappen is dating Isabelle Leclerc. Long term. Dead serious.

Mark:WHATexplain immediately

David chuckled, pocketing his phone.

Oh, he wasn’t going to explain everything yet.

Where was the fun in that?

He was going to sit back, enjoy the slow unfolding chaos, and wait for the paddock to finally catch up to what he already knew:

Max Verstappen was utterly, completely, irrevocably in love.

And her last name was Leclerc.

God, the 2024 season was already looking fantastic.

***

Mark Webber prided himself on keeping his ear to the ground.

Or, at the very least, knowing when David bloody Coulthard was onto something juicy.

He couldn’t stop thinking about that text message.

 I bet you a bottle of wine Max Verstappen is dating Isabelle Leclerc. Long term. Dead serious.

 Dead serious.

 David didn’t throw those words around lightly.

So, naturally, Mark did what any sane, mature, retired driver would do.

He went hunting for information.

It wasn’t like he could just ask Max — not without getting a death stare and possibly a Red Bull can thrown at his head.

 No, he needed someone younger. Someone adjacent. Someone... less likely to suspect an ambush.

He spotted Oscar near the McLaren garage, fiddling with a water bottle, looking far too innocent for a man in the Formula One paddock.

Perfect.

Mark strolled over casually, hands in his pockets, wearing the most nonchalant face he could muster.

Oscar looked up, blinking like a deer in headlights.

"Hey, mate," Mark said smoothly. "Quick one for you."

Oscar looked instantly suspicious — good lad, instincts sharp — but he nodded.

Mark leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Any idea if Max Verstappen’s dating Isabelle Leclerc?"

Oscar choked so hard on absolutely nothing that he physically stumbled back a step.

Mark arched a brow. "That’s a yes?"

"How—" Oscar spluttered, looking around wildly like he expected FIA officials to pop out of the bushes. "How do you know that?!"

Mark laughed, genuinely delighted. "Ohhh, mate, you just confirmed it for me."

Oscar groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. "I didn’t confirm anything! I just— I mean—" He lowered his voice urgently. "It’s, like, a massive secret."

Mark chuckled, utterly unbothered. "Not that massive if Coulthard noticed it after one afternoon."

Oscar buried his face in his hands. "I’m so dead. Max is going to kill me. I didn’t say anything!"

"You didn’t have to." Mark clapped him on the shoulder, grinning like the cat that got the cream. "Cheers, mate. Appreciate it."

He turned to saunter away — job done, day made — leaving poor Oscar standing there, looking absolutely haunted.

Mark was already pulling out his phone to text David back: Oscar just confirmed it. Owe you a bottle. Also this is incredible.

God, he loved this sport.

***

The restaurant was loud, chaotic in the way all post-race celebrations were, but Max didn’t mind.  

Not tonight.

The Bahrain Grand Prix trophy was already back at the hotel, forgotten for the moment ��� because the real prize was sitting right next to him, curled into the booth, tucked safely under his arm.

Belle.

Max still hadn't entirely recovered from seeing her waiting for him after free practice a few nights ago — real, alive, breathing.  

Now, with her hair soft around her face, wearing a simple sundress that made her look even more breakable and beautiful under the low lights, he could barely keep his hands off her.

And he didn’t have to.  

Not here.  

Not when everyone thought she was just Isabelle Leclerc, Charles’ sweet little sister, along for the ride.

Max smirked to himself, sliding his hand a little higher on her thigh under the table, tracing small, lazy circles against the fabric of her dress.

Belle looked up at him, cheeks flushing immediately, but her eyes sparkled — delighted, conspiratorial.

God, he loved her.

Lando, unfortunately, was sitting across the table — and he was dying.

Max could feel it.

Every time Max leaned in closer to Belle, murmuring something low in her ear, Lando shifted violently in his seat like he was physically restraining himself from making a scene.

It was beautiful.

"So," Belle said, teasingly soft, tilting her head up toward him, "how does it feel to add another trophy to the collection?"

Max shrugged, smirking, fully aware that Charles — sitting a few seats away — was half-listening while pretending to be absorbed in the menu.

"Don’t care about trophies," Max said easily, keeping his voice just loud enough to carry.

Belle blinked up at him, playing along.  

"Oh no? What do you care about, then?"

Max leaned down, his mouth brushing just over the shell of her ear, and said, so low that it was a miracle only Lando seemed to catch it:

"You’re the only trophy I want."

Belle flushed scarlet, her hand tightening briefly around the napkin in her lap, her breath catching visibly.  

Max smiled against her temple, smug and helplessly in love.

Across the table, Lando made a tiny, strangled noise and buried his face in his hands.

Charles — bless his stupid, oblivious soul — just looked up from the menu and said, casually:

"You’re not even looking at dessert, Max. You’re going to miss the good stuff."

Max didn't even blink.  

"I already have the good stuff," he said without missing a beat, eyes locked firmly on Belle.

Belle made a tiny, helpless noise that she immediately disguised with a cough.  

Lando kicked Max hard under the table, and Max barely resisted kicking him back.

Charles, meanwhile, just shrugged and went back to the menu, completely, fantastically unaware.

Max felt Belle’s hand slide into his under the table, squeezing once — a secret, silent, trembling squeeze — and he squeezed back, his thumb brushing lightly over her knuckles.

She was his.

And one day soon —  

He wasn’t going to hide it anymore.

But for now?  

He could live like this.  

With Belle flushed and smiling at his side, Lando dying quietly across from him, and the rest of the world too blind to see that Max Verstappen had already won the only race that ever really mattered.

***

Group Chat: HELP ME

(Members: Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri, Carlos Sainz, Daniel Ricciardo, Lewis Hamilton)

Lando: I almost DIED at dinner.

Oscar: What happened??

Lando: Max flirted with Belle. In front of Charles. Like, full-on heart eyes and whispered sweet nothings.

Carlos: Please tell me Charles noticed.

Lando: HE DIDN’T. He told Max to look at the dessert menu.

Lando: Max literally said “I already have the good stuff” while STARING AT BELLE.

Lando: And Charles just??? Nodded???

Lewis: Oh my god.

Oscar: I’m losing it. How are you still alive.

Lando: She was BLUSHING. Max was basically devouring her with his eyes.

Lando: I had to physically punch myself in the leg to not start screaming.

Daniel: You deserve an award. Like. An actual trophy.

Carlos: Or a medal. “Bravery in the Face of Complete Dumbassery.”

Oscar: Lando Norris: Survivor of Max-and-Belle Public Flirting™️

Lando: I’m writing my will. If I die because Charles eventually finds out and kills me, tell my mum I love her.

Daniel: Will do. Also, dibs on your gaming chair.

Lewis: We are NOT inheriting his Twitch setup, Daniel.

Daniel: You can’t stop me.

Carlos: Focus. The real question is: How long until Max just proposes and Charles still doesn’t notice?

Oscar: 50 bucks says it happens this season.

Lando: I’m raising you to 100. Because honestly? At this point? I can see it happening.

***

There were a few great constants in Formula One.

 One: There would always be politics.

 Two: Fernando Alonso would always find a way to be fast.

 And three: The old guard — Mark Webber, David Coulthard, and Fernando himself — would probably end up at a hotel bar, drinking expensive whiskey and gossiping like teenagers at a sleepover.

Tonight was no exception.

David leaned back in his chair, looking insufferably smug as he sipped his drink.

"I’m telling you," he said, tapping the side of his glass for emphasis. "It’s serious. Verstappen and the little Leclerc."

Mark, grinning like a fox, said, "Oscar practically shat himself when I asked him."

Fernando’s eyebrows shot up, delighted. "You interrogated Piastri?"

Mark shrugged, completely unapologetic. "Didn’t even need to. Kid panicked so hard I thought he was about to call his mum."

David chuckled darkly. "Told you. Not just a fling. Proper relationship. Long-term."

Fernando leaned forward, elbows on the table, suddenly far more interested. "I have seen them together a few times. Very... comfortable."

David pointed at him triumphantly. "Exactly! No nerves. No posturing. He looks at her like he’s already married her and built her a house in the countryside with five cats."

Mark howled with laughter. "Imagine Max Verstappen in the countryside, bloody hell."

Fernando smirked. "You are both missing the real headline."

Mark and David raised their eyebrows in unison.

Fernando leaned back, satisfied. "When Charles finds out."

There was a beat of silence — then all three of them burst into laughter, loud enough that a few other patrons in the bar turned to look.

David wiped tears from his eyes. "Oh, God, Charles Leclerc’s going to combust."

"Publicly or privately?" Mark asked, grinning.

Fernando considered it seriously. "Privately first. Brooding. Sad playlist. Maybe a little crying in the shower. Then public disapproval."

"Disapproval," David echoed, nodding solemnly. "In that very polite Monegasque way. ‘I am not angry, I am just... disappointed.’"

Mark knocked back the rest of his drink, still chuckling. "Imagine the Christmas dinners. Verstappen sitting across from Leclerc at the table. Isabelle kicking him under it every time he tries to start a fight."

David grinned. "Max pretending to be polite for fifteen minutes before he says something that makes Charles’ eye twitch."

Fernando clapped his hands together, pleased. "This season is already perfect."

Mark waved down the bartender for another round, because frankly, they deserved it.

"We should start a pool," he said. "How long until it goes public?"

David leaned forward eagerly. "Or how long until one of them accidentally soft-launches it on Instagram."

Fernando raised his glass. "Or until Verstappen punches a journalist for asking a stupid question about Isabelle."

They clinked glasses with wicked grins, the unofficial F1 Gossip Club alive and thriving.

Across town, Max Verstappen and Isabelle Leclerc remained blissfully unaware that three of the sport’s greatest troublemakers were placing metaphorical bets on their entire relationship timeline.

***

It wasn’t supposed to be complicated.

It was just a haircut. A simple thing.

Isabelle had asked, gently, over coffee one weekend. "Would you mind coloring my hair again, Maman?"

Her voice light, casual — hoping it would sound like a normal daughterly request, not something heavy.

Pascale had smiled vaguely, barely looking up from her phone. "Of course, cherie. Make an appointment, and we'll sort it out."

Belle had smiled too, automatic and small. "Okay."

She booked it the next week, a Friday afternoon — easy enough to squeeze in around both their schedules. She texted her mother to confirm.

Belle: Appointment for Friday at 2pm. Let me know if that still works for you!

The reply came half a day later.

Pascale: Oh, mon coeur, Friday’s going to be tricky. Charles needs help with a sponsor shoot! We'll find another time, I promise ❤️

Belle told herself it was fine. Of course it was fine.

Charles' career came first. It always had.

She rebooked for the next week.

Wednesday afternoon. Easy. Flexible.

Pascale: Arthur’s looking at apartments. I need to go with him. Next week? ❤️

Another reschedule. Another brushed-off excuse.

Lunch with friends. Last-minute travel plans. A gala that needed organizing.

Each time, Belle rearranged her schedule like a good little daughter. Each time, Pascale’s priorities stayed somewhere else — with someone else.

And Belle — Belle stayed small and polite, pretending like it didn’t sting.

Eventually, after the fourth reschedule in three weeks, Belle stood in front of her bathroom mirror, stared at her roots growing out unevenly, the dull ends of her hair catching awkwardly in the light — and something inside her simply... cracked.

She booked an appointment. With someone else. No fanfare. No texts.

She sat in the warm, bright little salon tucked near the flower market that Emilie had recommended, letting a stranger mix a soft, golden color for her hair, hands sure and kind.

And when it was done — When Belle caught sight of herself in the mirror — she smiled.

Really smiled.

The soft caramel highlights caught the light, framing her face, making her eyes look warmer. She looked — fresh. Hopeful, even.

It was silly.  It was just hair. But it felt like something more.

A line, quietly drawn. A choice for herself, not for anyone else.

She didn’t tell her mother.

Not at first.

But Pascale noticed at a family brunch the following weekend.

The moment Isabelle sat down, Pascale’s eyes sharpened, taking in the subtle change.

"You went to someone else?" she asked, light but pointed, the corners of her mouth tightening almost imperceptibly.

Isabelle sipped her coffee calmly. "You were busy."

Pascale laughed, waving it off. "Still, cherie, you should have waited. It’s not quite... what we would have done."

Belle smiled, soft and polite — the kind of smile she'd perfected years ago. Maybe not what you would have done, she thought. Maybe that's the point.

"It’s just hair, Maman," she said lightly.  She didn’t offer to rebook. Didn’t apologize.

And for once, she didn’t feel guilty about it.

***

The chair in Simone’s office was comfortable — too comfortable, sometimes.

It made it harder to keep her walls up. But maybe that was the point.

Belle picked at the seam of her sleeve, her legs curled under her, staring at the little woven rug on the floor as she spoke.

"It sounds stupid," she said after a long pause. "About the hair, I mean."

Simone — patient, kind Simone — just shook her head gently. "I don't think it sounds stupid at all."

Belle exhaled, staring at her hands."I just... I asked her to help. My mother. And she said yes, but then kept rescheduling. Again and again. For Charles. For Arthur. For everyone else."

Simone nodded, quiet encouragement in the simple gesture.

"And it wasn't the first time," Belle added, voice thinner now. "It’s never the first time. I know that."

"And how did it feel?" Simone asked, voice low, careful.

Belle hesitated.

How did it feel? It felt — small. It felt like being fourteen again, forgotten in the corner while her brothers got all the attention, all the applause.

"It felt like..." she trailed off, fumbling for words. "Like I wasn't important enough to remember."

Simone’s gaze was steady. "And what did you do with that feeling?"

Belle smiled tightly. "I told myself it didn't matter. Booked another appointment. Let someone else do it."

"And how did that feel?"

Belle surprised herself by laughing — a soft, broken sound. "Good," she admitted. And then, more quietly: "Really good."

Simone smiled. "You made a choice for yourself."

Belle nodded, the weight of it sinking in.

"I didn’t wait around this time," she said. "I didn’t hope she'd find time for me if I was just... patient enough."

"That’s not a small thing," Simone said. "That’s reclaiming something you were taught not to expect."

Belle blinked, throat tightening unexpectedly.

"You were taught," Simone continued gently, "that your needs came second. Or third. Or fourth. Or not at all. And now — even in something as small as a haircut — you're learning that you don't have to keep living by those old rules."

Belle swallowed hard.

"I guess I always thought... if I was just easier, or more useful, then maybe they'd—"

She broke off, voice catching.

Simone leaned forward slightly, her voice warm and firm.

"You don't have to earn love, Isabelle."

Belle squeezed her hands into fists, feeling the sting of tears she refused to let fall.

"You were already enough," Simone said. "You always have been."

Belle left the session feeling raw — scraped open — but lighter too.

Because maybe, just maybe, she was allowed to take up space. Allowed to choose herself. Allowed to stop waiting for permission that was never going to come.

Maybe love didn’t look like waiting on the sidelines. Maybe it looked like laughing under new sunlight, caramel highlights catching in the breeze, walking into the world without asking first.

And maybe — just maybe — she could be proud of that.

***

Text Messages: Victoria Verstappen & Isabelle Leclerc

Victoria: Hey Belle 💛 Random question — do you have some time in the next few weeks?

Isabelle: Hi! I should, yes! What’s up?

Victoria: I need help. With the nursery.

Isabelle: 🥺🥺🥺 You want me to help?

Victoria: Of course. You have the best taste. And honestly? I trust you. I want the nursery to feel safe and warm — not like something out of a catalog.

Isabelle: 😭 Vic.

Victoria: I'm serious!! Also I’m too emotional and tired to pick out wallpapers without crying 😂

Isabelle: Say no more. I’m honored. When were you thinking of starting?

Victoria: Whenever you’re free! No pressure. (But preferably before I get too big to waddle up the stairs without a forklift.)

Isabelle: 😂 You’re glowing, not waddling. But yes, I’m free next weekend if you want?

Victoria: Perfect. We can have snacks and mood boards and a no-crying policy.

Isabelle: (That rule is for you.)

Victoria: 100%.

Victoria: Thank you, Belle. Really. It means a lot to me. It means a lot to us.

Isabelle: I can’t wait 🩵 Already have about 12 ideas brewing.

Victoria: I knew I asked the right person 🥹

****

Team Redline Stream – Transcript

(Stream already in progress. Max is mid-race, casually chatting with the team and chat.)

Chris Lulham: So, Max, what’s your girlfriend up to these days? Did she get a new job, or is she just vibing?

Max: (Laughs.) She’s freelancing now."

Luke Crane: "Oh, so technically working, but with way less stress?"

Max: "Exactly. No more crazy hours, no more annoying bosses. Now she actually gets to have a life."

Chat:

FREELANCE ERA LET’S GOOOO

Max won the battle against corporate life

Work-life balance king fighting for his queen

"She actually gets to have a life" he has been PRAYING for this

Bro was so against that job, he’s probably happier than she is 💀

Chris: "So what does she do with all her free time now?"

Max: "More time for the cats. More time for horse riding, instead of just talking about how much she misses it. She’s already been out riding a few times."

Chat:

THE HORSE GIRL ERA RETURNS

"Instead of just talking about it" I know that used to break his heart

He is so smug about this, I can hear it in his voice

The cats and horses are winning rn

Imagine quitting your job and getting more time for your pets and hobbies… she’s living the dream

Chris: "And I’m guessing the cats are thrilled?"

Max: (Grinning.) "Of course. She bought them a ridiculous amount of toys, so they’ve been playing non-stop. They love her more than me anyway."

Aalberts: "I feel like you’ve just accepted that."

Max: (Shrugs.) "It’s the truth."

Chat:

MAX IS A SECONDARY PARENT IN HIS OWN HOUSEHOLD

The cats chose their favorite and it’s NOT him 💀

"They love her more than me" bro just casually taking Ls on stream

Imagine being Max Verstappen and losing to your girlfriend for affection

The way he’s not even mad about it

Luke: "Wait, how many cats is it now? Still Sassy and Jimmy?"

Max: (Smirks) "Three."

Chris: "THREE???"

Chat: HE DROPPED THAT SO CASUALLY HELLO??? NEW CAT REVEAL LET’S GOOOOO

Gianni Vecchio: "When did you get a third cat, mate?!"

Max: "Christmas. She surprised me."

Luke: "Bro your girlfriend got you a whole CAT for Christmas and you’re just mentioning this NOW???"

Chat: WHAT A FLEX A WHOLE CAT Forget watches or cars. Max got a BABY TIGER for Christmas Proposal energy tbh

Chris: "What’s the new cat’s name?"

Max: "Lilly."

Chat: LILLY!!! Sassy, Jimmy, and Lilly — squad complete MAX IS OFFICIALLY A CAT DAD OF THREE

Chris: "Okay but real talk — she got you a cat, bro. That’s basically marriage. So does this mean she’ll be at a race soon?"

Max: (Casually.) "She already was."

Luke: "Wait—WHAT?"

Chat:

HELLO???

EXCUSE ME???

SHE WAS THERE AND WE DIDN’T KNOW???

MAX YOU CAN’T JUST DROP THAT AND MOVE ON

We have failed as detectives

Chris: "Bro. You have people trying to figure out if she even exists, and you’re telling me she was at a race and nobody noticed?"

Max: (Laughing.) "Apparently not."

Luke: "This is insane. What do you mean 'apparently not'?"

Max: (Shrugs.) "She was just walking around, watching, same as always."

Chat:

This man’s girlfriend is a stealth legend

MAX JUST CASUALLY DROPPING BOMBSHELLS ON US

She was among us and we were blind

I feel like he enjoys watching us suffer

WE NEED TO FIND FOOTAGE, THIS IS A MISSION

Chris: "Alright, new game. Next race, we’re all scanning every background shot for your girlfriend."

Max: (Grinning.) "Good luck."

Chat:

Bro knows we will NEVER find her

He’s enjoying this way too much

This is now our new conspiracy theory

Max Verstappen’s girlfriend is the Where’s Waldo of F1

WE WILL NOT REST UNTIL WE FIND HER

***

Meanwhile on Twitter: 

@F1Detective: MAX JUST CASUALLY DROPPED THAT HIS GIRLFRIEND WAS AT A RACE AND WE ALL MISSED IT????

@TireDegEnjoyer:: Max: "Oh yeah, she was at a race." Us: "SIR??? AND YOU DIDN’T THINK TO MENTION THIS EARLIER???"

@softmaxgirl: I refuse to believe we all collectively failed at spotting her. This is a cover-up. She’s in a Red Bull hoodie somewhere in the background. We need to check every race weekend.

@pitlanechaos: Max: "She was just walking around, watching, same as always." SAME AS ALWAYS???? SIR??? DO YOU MEAN TO TELL ME SHE’S BEEN TO MULTIPLE RACES?????

@LandoStoleMyLunch: Max’s girlfriend has officially become the Where’s Waldo of the paddock. She’s there, but she’s a ghost.

@DR3sMullet: ANOTHER CAT?!? I DEMAND PICTURES. WHAT DO YOU MEAN SASSY AND JIMMY HAVE A NEW SIBLING?!!?

@PaddockTea: This woman is so committed to her privacy. Most WAGs get papped once and boom, we know their whole life story. Max’s gf? We don’t even have crumbs.

@SuperMaxStan: The fact that she quit her job and instead of immediately becoming a full-time WAG, she just started freelancing??? She really does not care about his money at ALL.

@F1Shitposter: What do you bet Max has tried to convince her to become his trophy wife at least once and she just refused LMAO

↳@UndercutKing: The way half of us would’ve immediately quit their job the second Max suggested it and she just… didn’t. Iconic.

@FrontWingDamage: Max is just so casual about everything. Like, sir. You do realize we’ve been trying to figure this out for months.

↳@RedBullConspiracy:WE HAVE TO GO BACK. CHECK THE FOOTAGE. FIND HER.

↳@F1Sherlock: He said it so casually. Like he didn’t just confirm that she’s been right there and we all missed it. EMBARRASSING FOR US.

@GridReporter:The fact that people are now scrubbing through paddock footage frame by frame trying to find a glimpse of her… I love F1 fans.

↳@McLarenMemeLord:Max: “She was at a race.” F1 Twitter: ACTIVATE FBI MODE

@SuperMaxUltraFan:At this point, I don’t even care who she is. I’m just impressed by the commitment to staying invisible.

↳@Horseriding4Life:"More time for horse riding"—girl is really just living her dream life, huh?

↳@SidepodDisaster:The fact that she chose freelancing instead of living the soft WAG life… Respect.

@RedBullChaos:She really doesn’t care about his money and I think that’s what drives people insane the most.

***

Alex Albon was halfway through his coffee when Max dropped into the chair across from him like the world had personally wronged him.

“Lilly’s sneezing,” Max said, without preamble.

Alex blinked. “Okay… hi?”

“My kitten,” Max clarified, as if that explained everything.

Alex raised a brow. “Right. Is she okay?”

“She started sneezing two days ago,” Max said, frowning. “Little sneezes. Like tchu-tchu. Not constant. But today it’s more.”

Alex set his cup down. “Vet?”

“Took her yesterday. No fever, no infection. Not her food. They tested for everything. Nothing.” Max looked personally offended by the mystery. “So it has to be something in the apartment.”

Alex squinted. “New plants? Cleaning products?”

Max pulled out his phone and swiped with purpose. “Switched laundry detergent last week. Isabelle lit a new candle. It smells like cedarwood and… I don’t know, something sweet.”

“Floral?” Alex offered.

Max nodded like he was on a crime show. “Possibly rose. Or jasmine. Something aggressive. I think it’s the candle.”

“Could be,” Alex agreed. “Some scents mess with cats’ systems. Especially essential oils.”

Max turned his phone toward him. “Here. This is her on the couch—right next to where the candle’s usually lit.”

Alex looked.

It was a picture of Lilly. Big blue eyes. Tiny paws. Mid-sneeze. The picture was blurry, chaotic, adorable.

But behind the kitten, sitting casually on the couch in one of Max’s oversized hoodies, was Isabelle Leclerc.

Hair pulled into a messy bun. Mug in hand. Bare legs tucked under her like she belonged there. Looking at the kitten with this soft, utterly unguarded smile that said: this is home.

Alex stared.

Max didn’t notice. “See, she only sneezes in the living room. Nowhere else. So I think it’s—”

“Back up,” Alex said, voice sharp.

Max paused. “What?”

Alex pointed at the photo, eyes wide. “Is that Isabelle Leclerc in your living room?”

Max glanced at the phone like it was obvious. “Yeah.”

“Max,” Alex said slowly. “That’s Charles Leclerc’s sister.”

“Correct.”

“She’s wearing your hoodie.”

Then said, without any trace of shame: “Yeah.”

Alex stared. “Yeah?! That’s all I get?!”

Max squinted. “What do you want? A timeline?”

“Uh, YES?” Alex exclaimed, leaning forward. “That’s Charles’ sister. And she’s sitting on your couch in your hoodie with your kitten like she LIVES THERE.”

Max shrugged. “She does.”

Alex’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “You’re dating Charles Leclerc’s sister?”

Max took a sip of his water. “We’ve been together for a while. Over a year.”

Alex made an unholy sound. “And Charles doesn’t know?!”

“Nope.”

Alex blinked rapidly. “Does anyone know?!”

“GP, Lando, Daniel, Oscar…Lewis, my family...Oh, wait, Nico Rosberg. Now you.”

“Do you want to die?!”

Max gave him a mildly amused look. 

Alex dropped his head into his hands. “You’re actually insane.”

Max waited a beat, then tapped his phone. “So. Candle, yes or no?”

Alex groaned. “Yes, Max. It could absolutely be the candle. But also, WHAT IS HAPPENING WITH YOUR LIFE.”

Max tilted his head. “Are you going to tell Charles?”

Alex gave him a look. “Do I look like I want to be collateral damage in that explosion?”

Max nodded approvingly. “Good. So... lavender and cedar — dangerous?”

Alex sighed. “For the kitten, yes. For you? I think you’ve already walked off a cliff.”

Max smirked. “Worth it.”

Alex groaned again. “I need a drink. And maybe a therapist.”

***

Group Chat: 2019 Rookies

(Members: Lando Norris, George Russel and Alex Albon)

Alex: boys. Alex: BOYS. Alex: you’re not going to believe what just happened

George: oh no George:  what did you do?

Alex: not meAlex: MAX

George: even worse George:  what happened?

Alex: so max came to me for ADVICE Alex: about his KITTEN Alex: because she’s sneezing

George:  what???

Alex: wait Alex: it gets worse Alex: he shows me a picture of the kitten Alex: and who’s in the background??

George: WHO?

Alex: ISABELLE. Alex: LECLERC. Alex: on his couch Alex: in his hoodie Alex: drinking out of his red bull mug Alex: LOOKING DOMESTIC AS HELL

George: YOU’RE JOKING

Lando: he’s not

George: EXCUSE ME???? George:  SINCE WHEN????

Alex: over. a. YEAR. Alex: he said that with his whole chest like it was normal

George: A YEAR???? George:  A YEAR?????

Lando: welcome to hell 😌

George: CHARLES DOESN’T KNOW???

Alex: he does not

George: ARE THEY TRYING TO DIE

Lando: hang on hang on Lando: adding you both

Group Chat: HELP ME

(Members: Oscar Piastri, Lando Norris, Daniel Ricciardo, Carlos Sainz Jr., Lewis Hamilton, George Russell and Alex Albon)

Lando Norris has added George Russell and Alex Albon

Lando: new additions have arrived

Daniel: Alex!! Daniel:  G-MONEY!!! welcome to the worst-kept secret in f1

Carlos: it is not a secret. it’s a ticking time bomb.

Oscar: Charles will find out and take us all down with him

Lewis: has anyone built a bunker yet?

Alex: I feel like i need to lie down

George: I feel like I need a legal team

Daniel: guys we’re fineDaniel:  just don’t say anything to charles and don’t look max in the eye for too long

George: what happens if you look max in the eye???

Oscar: you see your life flash before your eyes

Lando: and also possibly belle in a hoodie making pancakes

Alex: ...she cooks for him????

Carlos: they cook together

George: that’s worse.  THEY HAVE A ROUTINE

Lando: they have matching coffee mugs Lando:  and the kitten has a name that matches the other cats.  it's over

George: i am distressed George: deeply, emotionally distressed

Lewis: You’ll get used to it. eventually

Oscar: No, you won’t.  We’re all dying inside… but she’s happy so we keep quiet

Daniel: And max is terrifyingly in love so we don’t poke the bear

George: this is insane

Alex: they are insane

Lando: but also, like… kind of cute right?

***

Max had faced down championship-deciding races, international media frenzies, and Monaco traffic. None of it — none of it — had prepared him for being frog-marched into a luxury jewelry boutique by Emilie Abadie at ten in the morning.

"Stand up straight," Emilie hissed under her breath, fixing the collar of his jacket like he was a misbehaving toddler.

Max glared at her. "I am standing straight."

"You’re standing like you’re about to be arrested," Emilie muttered. "Look less guilty."

"I am guilty," Max grumbled. "Guilty of letting you hijack my life."

Emilie grinned wickedly, grabbing his wrist and hauling him inside.

The boutique was elegant and understated — all cream walls, glass cases, and staff so polished they practically floated across the floor. A woman behind the nearest counter looked up, smiling warmly.

"Bonjour, Monsieur Verstappen. Mademoiselle Abadie. Welcome back."

Max blinked. "Back?"

Emilie shot him a look. "I told you I started scouting months ago. We have an appointment."

"You booked an appointment without asking me?"

"You needed help," Emilie said breezily. "You should be thanking me."

Max grumbled something unflattering under his breath but let her lead him deeper into the store. A private consultation table was already set up — soft lighting, velvet ring trays, glasses of still water, and a discreet little sign that read: “Reserved for Mr. Verstappen.”

Max sat down stiffly. Emilie plopped into the chair next to him like she owned the place.

The saleswoman joined them, setting out a leather-bound book filled with sketches. "You mentioned you were interested in a custom design. Yellow gold, emerald centerpiece, classic but with modern detailing?"

"Exactly," Emilie said crisply, before Max could even open his mouth.

Max raised an eyebrow. "Are you proposing or am I?"

"You're the wallet," Emilie said sweetly. "I’m the brains."

The saleswoman laughed quietly and turned the book toward Max. Beautiful sketches of rings — thick yellow gold bands, stunning emeralds set flush into intricate settings, delicate hidden details like tiny horseshoes, floral engraving, or Celtic knots.

Max stared at them, overwhelmed for a second by how serious it felt.

This wasn’t just a ring.

It was Belle’s future wrapped around her finger.

It was a promise he intended to keep for the rest of his life.

Emilie nudged him gently with her knee under the table. "You’re okay," she said quietly. "You’ve already made the most important decision. This is just picking the outfit for it."

Max exhaled slowly and leaned in, studying the designs.

He pointed to one — simple, stunning, an oval emerald cradled in a four-prong yellow gold setting, surrounded by diamonds, the inside of the band left smooth for an inscription.

"This one," he said roughly. "But I want the stone a little lower. So it doesn’t snag."

The saleswoman smiled approvingly. "Excellent eye, sir."

They finalized the adjustments, confirmed timelines (discreetly expedited, of course), and signed the paperwork.

 Max handed over the deposit without blinking.

When it was done, he stood awkwardly in the middle of the boutique, feeling somehow lighter and heavier all at once.

Emilie looped her arm through his, squeezing. "You did good, Verstappen."

"Yeah?" he asked, voice low.

She looked up at him, eyes suddenly bright. "You’re giving her something no one else ever did," Emilie said softly. "You’re choosing her first."

Max swallowed hard. "She deserves it," he said simply.

And he meant it with everything he had.

***

Instagram Story: @/victoriaverstappen

***

Meanwhile on Twitter: 

@/f1gossipgirl: hold on. HOLD ON. isabelle leclerc... hanging wallpaper... with JOS VERSTAPPEN???

@/casualf1fan:  jos verstappen? the jos verstappen? the one who doesn’t like anyone???

@/raceweekgirlie: victoria verstappen posting belle and jos working together calmly has actually sent me into a spiral i was not prepared for today

@/slowpitstop:  isabelle organizing the nursery i get isabelle being friends with victoria i get but isabelle and JOS VERSTAPPEN collaborating on a wallpaper project????

@/softdrs the fact that jos looks??? like he’s enjoying himself???? someone explain. fast.

@/piastrisleftshoe:  NO BECAUSE THINK ABOUT IT. isabelle has always been quiet, polite, organized. jos: respects competence above all else it’s making sense but also???? why does this feel WEIRDLY IMPORTANT

@/f1socialspy:  the verstappens are either adopting isabelle or she’s secretly engaged to max there’s no third option

@/leclercslens: every time i think about isabelle being on a ladder next to jos verstappen holding a roll of wallpaper like it’s normal i lose 3 years off my life

@/f1girliesunite: wait hold on. why is jos verstappen installing wallpaper with isabelle leclerc. what is happening.

@/chaoticf1fan: THE CROSSOVER I DID NOT EXPECT jos verstappen and isabelle leclerc hanging wallpaper like they’re on some home renovation show???

@/leclercbrainrot: belle leclerc being chill with victoria verstappen i get. belle leclerc hanging out with jos verstappen?????? PLS EXPLAIN

@/maxiecatlover33: I’m sorry but if you had told me in 2019 that JOS VERSTAPPEN would be calmly putting up wallpaper with a LECLERC I would have called you insane.

@/dutchgrandprixfan: the way jos looks like he’s genuinely concentrating and belle is just THERE like it’s totally normal?? I HAVE QUESTIONS

@/landochaosnorris: isabelle leclerc and jos verstappen hanging wallpaper together" is my roman empire now

@/chaosformula1: You’re telling me Max Verstappen’s dad and Charles Leclerc’s sister are casually hanging out???? Installing WALLPAPER together??? Am I on drugs or

@gridgirlenergy Not to be dramatic but if you had told me a year ago that Jos Verstappen and Isabelle Leclerc would be collaborating on INTERIOR DESIGN I would’ve called you clinically insane. What’s next? Toto Wolff and Christian Horner hugging it out?!

@/maxfosi:  the way jos and belle were concentrating on that wallpaper like they were on a two-man pit crew… i have QUESTIONS

@/slowpitstop:  someone please explain how belle leclerc is closer to the verstappens than literally any other paddock girlfriend when SHE’S NOT EVEN A PUBLIC GIRLFRIEND (or is she...?)

@/verstappenfiles: there’s just no way she’s not with max right??? you don’t just rope in your extremely grumpy father to do nursery wallpaper with your brother’s "friend" unless it’s SERIOUS

@/mclarenchaos:  the verstappen family adopting belle like a lost kitten while the internet loses its mind is my favorite off-track drama right now

@/redbullstan89: petition to get a documentary crew in there IMMEDIATELY because whatever this is, i want to see it unfold in real time

@/f1girlies:  petition to make “isabelle leclerc hanging wallpaper with jos verstappen” the new unit of measurement for how confusing the f1 world is

@/pitlaneconfessions: still can’t believe victoria posted that and acted like it was NORMAL like “here’s belle and jos, wallpapering together” no context no explanation iconic behavior honestly

@/charlespills: charles leclerc obliviously posting selfies from golf while his sister is bonding with jos verstappen is soooooo on brand

[lvrclerc]

✶ STEAL YOUR HEART, TONIGHT!

summary: after the united states grand prix, the drivers decide to immerse themselves in the true american experience by going to the most infamous coyote ugly in austin to celebrate ─ needless to say, max is in for a culture shock, and maybe a little heart attack when one of the coyotes seems to take a fancy to him.

F1 MASTERLIST | MV33 MASTERLIST

pairing: max verstappen x coyote!f!reader

wc: 7.6k

cw: reader is implied to be southern/has a southern accent, reader smokes, alcohol, english is not my first language, sexual/romantic tension, i know next to nothing about coyote ugly this is based on vibes and vibes alone, use of y/n, bittersweet towards the end.

note: the idea of max verstappen just stepping in a coyote ugly is so funny to me. here's to lei @cntappen who wanted to see a max fic!

WARNING!

You may get wet

You may lose your tie

You may lose your bra

No men on the bar

No touching the girls on the bar - even if it’s your own girlfriend, do that at home!

We don’t serve free water

If you pick a bad song on the jukebox, you may get skipped

If you are easily offended, this isn’t the bar for you

Be nice and have fun!

YOU WILL GET DRUNK, YOU WILL GET UGLY!

What did Max get into?

The words were written hastily on a board in front of the bar with a black marker, making him wonder how it successfully stood the test of time. The night was dark around the slightly weathered wooden structure, but the obnoxious neon red sign made each detail of the street clear as day: COYOTE UGLY.

It looked like something out of a bad, anachronic Western film ─ scratched paint, flickering lights, the low hum of American dad rock vibrating through the walls. Still, there was a line out of the door and people littering the front porch ─ girls in jean shorts and cowboy hats yelling to each other above the music, guys already stumbling out with their shirts unbuttoned too far.

Daniel was the one who insisted.

He flew in to watch the United States Grand Prix, as it would be the only one he’d be free enough to attend and it had been a little while since he caught up with some of the drivers ─ including Max, Max who had been the happy winner of the aforementioned Grand Prix. “Come on Maxie,” he’d said that afternoon wearing a cowboy hat he definitely didn’t pack. “After-parties are always the same. Fake VIP tables, same music, same people. We need something different for tonight! Something fun!”

Max had muttered that he was fine drinking in a familiar place and that nobody really went partying after Austin anyway ─ it was just another win, and they had a day to pack for Mexico. That was without knowing Daniel, obviously, who had already sent a group text. Much to Max's surprise ─ note the sarcasm ─ most of the drivers had declined due to exhaustion and the general reputation of Coyote Ugly. He thought that would be the end of it, until Lando, Carlos, Pierre and surprisingly Charles had all jumped at the idea like it was the goddamn social event of the season.

Mostly because Daniel had the talent to sell a bad idea to someone like a lawyer. And that─ that explained why Max was there.

Carlos was already walking ahead of them, sunglasses on despite the fact it was nearly midnight, yelling something to a drunkard behind him in fast Spanish. Charles trailed behind, squinting at the building like he was trying to figure out if the neon sign was ironic or a warning ─ Max concluded he didn’t look up what a Coyote Ugly was before tagging along. Lando was busy taking a selfie with a wannabe cowboy and cowgirl who stopped him, already in his element.

And now Max stood between Daniel and Pierre, outside this absurdly American fever dream of a bar, and he was pretty sure people were getting murdered inside. He wondered if Daniel had finally lost his mind.

“You’re going to thank me for this,” the latter declared, hands out like he was presenting a five-star resort instead of a glorified wooden box.

Max raised a brow. “No. I’m already regretting this.”

“I love it personally,” interjected Pierre. “Smells like tequila and questionable decisions.”

Daniel threw an arm around Max’s shoulders. “See? That’s the spirit. Come on, Max. Live a little. You just won a Grand Prix, you should be dancing somewhere.”

“I’m a driver, not a dancer. Especially not that type of dancer,” he deadpanned.

Pierre smirked. “You might not have a choice. I saw a line dance when I passed by the window, and someone getting body shots done on the bar.”

“You’re fucking kidding.” Max could feel himself blanching.

Daniel grinned like the devil himself, and Max wondered why he wasn’t in his hotel room. “Oh it’s real, mate. You’re in America─ home of deep-fried butter and girls with fire hoses full of Jack Daniels.”

Lando, who had finally rejoined them, snorted. “You sound wayyy too excited about this.”

“I am! This is culture,” Daniel insisted. “This is history. This is─”

He was cut off as someone inside screamed, followed by the unmistakable sound of a whip cracking. Max stared at the entrance, eyes narrowing at the figure of a woman sliding across the bar and before he could catch another glimpse─ the blur of the people inside blocked his view.

“... Is that even legal?” He asked.

Daniel just patted his back in fake reassurance. “Too late to back out now, champ.”

He ran to catch up with Carlos in front of them, leaving Max stranded in his own hesitation. Was he really going to…?

Pierre laughed, following suit. Well, he guessed it was indeed too late to back out, and Max never left things unfinished, after all.

The door slammed behind him like a final warning.

The heat of the bar hit Max like a punch. Everything was sweaty, loud, alive, sticking to his skin and prickling it. The floor vibrated beneath his feet from the raucous movements of the crowd, barely walkable, and the scent of whiskey and cheap perfume hung in the air. People were everywhere ─ dancing, shouting, laughing, adding to the bass escaping from the humongous, vintage jukebox in the back of the room.

Someone threw a bra across the room and no one even flinched. Carlos cheered.

It was lawless. Much more than what Max was used to.

“Welcome to America, baby!” Daniel hollered over the music, arms spread around him like he’d just stepped into a holy place.

Max shot him a look, dread comfortably installed in the pit of his stomach. He brushed someone’s feather boa off his arm with a scoff. “Is that what you call fun?”

“A little different from Monaco bottle service, huh?” Daniel grinned.

“Right now I’m just doubting your taste in bars.”

“Eh…,” the Australian clapped him on the back. “It builds character.”

Why would someone want to get literally hosed down with whiskey to build character, Max didn’t know ─ and it’s not like he pulled the example out of his ass: a guy was taking a whiskey shower in the middle of the room, given by a girl in very tight clothing and run-down chaps standing on the bar.

He squinted. “How is this even sanctioned?”

“Man, you ask yourself way too many questions, just enjoy! Look at the others, at least they’re already having fun.”

Carlos was already gone, swallowed up by a pack of cowboy boots and red lipstick, while Lando and Charles were making their way toward the bar with wide eyes and the kind of expression Max hadn’t seen since their karting days. Pierre vanished. Someone bumped into his shoulder so hard it almost knocked the wind out of him.

In the end, he just sighed. He wouldn’t win that fight. “If I get anything poured on me, I’m leaving.”

Daniel laughed. “Don’t worry, they’ll only do it if you ask. Or not. Anyways, let’s get a drink!”

Max started walking toward the bar, following in Lando and Charles’ footsteps before Daniel could even finish his sentence. If he wanted to survive the evening ─ hell, even just the ambiance ─ he needed something to keep him going. Preferably cold. Preferably strong. Preferably now.

But that’s when the music shifted, the lights dimmed ever so slightly, and suddenly ─ everything changed.

A warm glow from old projectors cut through the red haze, casting gold across the surface of the bar like a spotlight, and just like that, the crowd moved. Turned their heads toward the long wooden structure like it was a stage and not the stickiest surface in Texas. Someone behind Max let out a whoop so loud it nearly startled him, “Hell yeah, that’s what I’m talking about!” 

In the shuffles of bodies and beer, Max lost sight of Daniel completely.

He would have cared in any other circumstances, and maybe a part of him did at the moment, but he was only human ─ his gaze caught on the bar as well. More specifically, his gaze caught on you as you stepped into the light.

Crimson red cowboy boots first, planted strongly on the bar top, followed by the curve of your legs and the ripped, distressed hem of your shorts, the glint of a belt buckle looking like it carried multiple stories. Your tank top clung to your skin in the heat, and you were probably drenched in something ─ what, Max wouldn’t want to guess. Your hair was catching on the light, wildfire-like, almost matching the red neons. One of your hands lifted in the air, claiming the moment, and the other held a mic ─ beat up, wrapped up in tape, completely yours.

You didn’t ask for the attention of the people in front of you, no. You commanded it.

“LET’S WAKE THIS DAMN CITY UP!” You shouted into the mic, voice hoarse and tone ecstatic, and the whole room erupted.

And the music kicked in again, louder this time ─ an unapologetic, southern rock anthem beating against the wall. You dropped low, hips rolling to the beat while your hands gripped the metal bar above you to keep you on your feet. You popped back up with a loud, teasing laugh, and, mid spin, someone handed you a bottle. You poured the liquor straight into a row of open mouths, feeding the fire you started.

Max couldn’t get himself to look away.

If all the other bartenders, or coyotes as Lando affectionately corrected earlier in the night, looked like they performed the overt confidence, you didn’t: you looked in your element, basking in the spotlight, the attention and the smell of burnt wood. And it wasn’t just the way you moved, no ─ it was the way you owned it. Unbothered, untouchable. Like the bar was yours. The music, the night? Yours too.

And then for a second, just one ─ you looked at him. Dead in the eyes, over the crowd. Over the sweat and light and noise, and you threw him a grin. 

You caught him staring.

It should have been meaningless, the moment barely lasted enough to make note of it, but Max’s breath still hitched. The beat of the music wasn’t the only thing making his heart stutter off rhythm.

The chaos dulled, the music softened and just like that, you were gone. Lost behind the bar in the sea of bodies crawling in front of it. Max blinked. He wondered if he hallucinated you. 

He shook his head to get rid of the haze his mind settled into. Before he could have time to think about anything else, or even try, an arm dropped around his shoulders and a cowboy hat was on his head. Daniel had reappeared. “What a show, huh?” He said.

“Where’d you go?” Max asked, rearranging the hat on his head. He knew that if he took it off now, Daniel would be quick to put it back on.

“Went to fetch you this. Stole it from someone puking in the corner,” Max's nose scrunched at the mental image. “Come on, let’s finally get that drink. Maybe the Coyote you’ve been ogling during the whole perf’ will serve you.”

He protested. “I wasn’t ogling.” Because he wasn’t. I mean ─ what else was he supposed to do? Look at the ground while you danced? But Daniel was already on his way toward the bar and this time, Max followed him without much of a complaint. Mainly because he had been eyeing the spot you disappeared behind for the entire conversation.

People crowded around the wooden counter like it was a lifeboat. Arms waving, voices raised, someone yelling for shots and someone else already halfway to a table with three beers in each hand. The bartenders, sorry, Coyotes, moved like machines ─ fast, efficient, ruthless. Max tucked himself between Daniel and Pierre, who had reappeared as well, with difficulty.

And then, he spotted you again.

It was more like flashes of you, really. A hand catching a bottle mid-air. A flash of glitter on your cheek. A bandana tied around your wrist. Your voice cut through the air like smoke, low and teasing and just loud enough to carry. That’s what made Max’s head snap ─ it was unsettlingly recognizable, even after hearing so little of it.

“That’s your third tequila, cowboy. You aiming to dance or blackout first?”

Someone laughed ─ a rough, lovesick sound ─ and you grinned without looking up as you slid another shot glass across the bar. Through their drunk delusions, everyone around the table probably assumed they were in love with you, Max thought.

He stepped up, hands braced against the edge of the counter, waiting. That was when you turned and for the second time tonight, you looked right at him, as if feeling his presence before he could even call for another bartender.

Jesus fuck─ up close, you were something else entirely. Sun-warmed and sun-kissed skin, your cheeks were flushed from the heat along with your sweat-slicked collarbones. Your lips were pulled into the kind of smirk he’s sure could cause car crashes, and your eyes sparkled under the bar lights ─ like you knew exactly what he was searching for.

If you did, spare the poor soul and tell him, because Max wasn’t sure he wanted that drink anymore.

“You lost?” You asked. Your tone was smooth, a southern accent dripping from every word. God, that was dangerous.

Max blinked. Oh, he was gaping. “No,” he affirmed, a little too harshly.

Your eyes, intense, dragged over him, twinkling a little brighter than before. “You look lost.”

Max suddenly felt very conscious of how much he had to be sticking out. He had no outfits or items of clothing that fit this type of place ─ the light-washed jeans, the tennis shoes, and the black, short-sleeved shirt with his Formula One number in the back was as casual as he could do without looking homeless. The cowboy hat had to add some more ridiculousness to it, he realized.

He cleared his throat, frowning slightly. He usually wasn’t one to really care about outfits. “Just a drink, please.”

You leaned in, close enough that Max could smell your perfume. Warm, sugary, intoxicating. “Name your poison, pretty boy.”

Pretty boy. He gulped. For fuck’s sake, where did the confidence he had a few hours earlier go, when he was brandishing the Austin trophy?

“Whatever’s strongest.” God knows he needs it right now.

You just gave him a look ─ just the faintest eyebrow raise, clearly amused. Grabbing a bottle from behind you with practiced ease, you poured without measuring, slid a glass toward him with one hand, and propped the other on your hip, where Max’s eyes lingered a little too long.

“Try that,” you said. “If it doesn’t knock the edge off, I’ll give you a second round for free.”

He reached for the glass. You looked too smug, challenging him like he was no one to you, which he probably was. But Max liked a challenge, he was known for never backing out after all. He handled stronger for sure and America wasn’t the place that was about to teach him alcohol. He threw the whole glass back.

It burned.

His eyes watered, and Max coughed so hard he thought fire was about to spill out from his esophagus. You, on the other hand, looked delighted, grinning widely at his misery.

“You hate it.”

“I didn’t say that.”

You laughed, and the sound echoed in Max’s chest like cathedral bells, so violently he froze. Must be the alcohol.

Noticing his lack of retort, you leaned your elbows onto the bar, eyes dancing. “Aww, ain’t you too pretty to be looking this miserable?”

You were going to be the death of him. The corner of your mouth curled as if you’d just lit up a fuse. Max swallowed, slowly recovering from the short circuit your voice alone had triggered. “Is that how you greet all of your customers─ uh…” He choked out, searching for your name on your shirt.

“Y/N.” The name sounded good sliding off your tongue. Max felt the need to know how it felt sliding off his. “And only the ones who look like they took a wrong turn at a country club,” you commented, chin propped in your hand, eyes still locked on his. Touché. “You got that look─ y’know, European.” You whispered that as if it was a bad word. “Quiet, repressed. Secretly judging everyone.”

“That’s harsh.” He raised an eyebrow. “I’m not judging.” He was. He just wasn’t judging you.

“Sure you’re not, Verstappen.”

Oh. Your tone was casual, tossed off like nothing ─ but the sound of his name in your mouth made something flicker in his chest. Not how you said it, even though the accent and the inflections played a part in it, but the fact you said it at all.

You knew who he was, and clearly ─ you didn’t give two shits.

“Anyways,” you kept on going, oblivious or choosing not to care about the semi-amused grin that slipped on Max’s face. “The drink in your hand says otherwise.”

He glanced down. He threw the glass back, yes, but the liquid was so strong he couldn’t even get half of it down before choking on it. “I’m drinking it.”

“Barely.”

Max straightened a bit. “Okay. Fine.” Again, his tone was harsher than he actually meant it to be. He just didn’t know how to handle whatever was happening there ─ your smiles, your presence. “What should I be drinking then?”

You didn’t answer right away ─ just tilted your head, eyes sweeping over him slowly, deliberately, like you were appraising a new kind of game. It sent shivers down his spine, and he was deeply ashamed to say he was enjoying it. “You trust me, pretty boy?”

There was the nickname again. “I don’t not trust you,” which was as far as he could go after knowing you for a dance and a drink. Maybe he needed more. Just to make sure you wouldn’t poison him.

“That’s a whole lotta syllables for yes!” You laughed, already moving, pulling down bottles Max could barely recognize, tossing ice into a shaker with a rhythm that matched the beat of the song playing overhead. Your hands moved fast, confident, dancing between ingredients as if you were born behind this bar.

Max was fast, yes, but not in the way you were ─ intricate, careful. Just like that, he was hypnotized again, eyes tracing your every movement.

It broke when you slid another drink toward him. Something golden, fizzing at the top, smelling like citrus and vanilla. Like you. “Go on, drink.”

He eyed the glass. “What’s in it?”

“You said you trusted me.”

“You put the words in my mouth.”

You barked out a surprised laugh. “Either drink or I’m telling your lil’ blond friend with the camera you can’t handle your liquor,” you nodded behind Max with a sharp grin. “Wonder how that’ll go down.”

He glanced over his shoulder, and Lando had his camera zeroed on him in a way that may have tried to be discreet but miserably failed. Max muttered a curse. First, because Lando had the bad habit of filming everything and for it to get leaked the day after ─ so if their little outing wasn’t public information already, it would be by tomorrow morning. Second, based on his first point, he couldn’t possibly be dragged through the dirt for going to a Coyote Ugly and have the reputation of a lightweight. His Dutch heritage would look like a joke. Max brought the glass to his lips.

It tasted like heat, honey, whiskey, and something floral he couldn’t name. “That’s… actually good.”

“Told you you should trust me,” you said, pleased. “Don’t worry your pretty little head, I taste-test all the cocktails before I serve them. I’m not that much of a degenerate.”

You wet your lips, and Max’s eyes caught onto them for a split second. He wouldn’t let himself acknowledge the thought that almost formed in his head.

Instead, he blinked. “Are you always like this?”

“Like what?”

“So… intense.” It was a genuine question. He met people with fire, he worked with them daily, and he could consider himself one in a way ─ however, it was the contained kind. The one that was shaped to work toward a goal. You were a forest fire, spreading, in constant reach of something. Max was sure your fingerprints could burn themselves on his skin if you let them linger long enough. 

You laughed ─ loud and shameless. “Apparently. Tends to flare up when I’m bored.”

And maybe it was the alcohol, or the raucous crowd ignoring you both entirely, making it seem like you had your own, private sphere, but Max leaned forward, just enough to make your eyes imperceptibly widen by the action. It made his stomach lurch with a strange kind of pride. “And are you bored right now?”

You looked at him, gaze heavy with meaning. “Not anymore.”

Max felt something stir low in his chest ─ heat, curiosity, the burn of your drink still coating his throat. He wished he could have lingered on it, maybe make sense of it but you took it from him, leaning back and breaking the tension with a sly glint in your eyes. A reminder you were in control of the room.

“You ever poured a shot before, pretty boy?” You asked.

That was a change of topic. “Uh─ no?”

“Well, that’s about to change.”

Before he could argue, or even ask what you meant, your fingers stroked his wrist and he forgot about everything he was going to say. That’s when you tugged him forward, He didn’t resist, more out of shock than anything else, but next thing he knew he was behind the bar, ducking under the pass-through from which Coyotes went and left. Pushing him into your world.

The heat was much worse with the change of scenery ─ the lights brighter, the music louder, you right next to him.

“Are we─ Am I even allowed back there?” Max asked, stumbling slightly as he knocked into a pack of plastic cups.

“Nope,” you answered cheerfully. Just as on cue, one of your colleagues piped up, something about ‘no men on the bar’ and the wooden board of warnings at the front of the bar flashed in Max’s mind. You flipped her off lightheartedly, saying something along the line that, technically, he wasn’t on the bar. Just behind it.

From under the counter, you took out a bottle of something probably lethal and a metal shaker. “Alright, Verstappen. Time to earn your keep ─ didn’t think those drinks were for free, were you?” So that’s what it was all about. “You’re gonna help me make a round of Flaming Coyotes.”

“No way in hell that’s a real drink,” Max frowned.

“Unfortunately yes,” you said, cracking ice into a tin. “And you’re gonna light it.”

Your fingers wrapped around his hand, and Max’s heart stuttered at how your whole palm could wrap around one of his fingers. You guided it to the matchbox you set on the bar. “Relax, I’m not gonna let you burn your eyebrows off… unless you’re chicken?” You gasped, mocking.

“You really want me to set something on fire? With no… prior experience?”

“Only a little.”

You’re insane, he thought. You’re insane and he was never going to leave this bar. But Max was not sure he wanted to leave as badly as he did earlier, that’s why he lit the match.

The crowd erupted when the flame caught on the shot glasses. In front of him, Pierre, Daniel, and Charles cheered and whooped as loudly as he could, and somehow Max forgot all about them in these 20 minutes. He looked up, breathless, adrenaline buzzing through his veins like engine oil. You were watching him carefully, looking like you’d just found something very interesting in me. “Look at you,” you said, tone playful. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

And Max smiled ─ actually smiled, for the first time since this night started. Wide, boyish, and wrecked by it all, and fucking hell did he look good, you allowed yourself to think. His chest swelled with something as you smiled back. And maybe it was the fire, maybe it was the cheers. Or maybe it was you.

The following hours were spent in a blur.

Not the kind of blur Max was used to ─ it wasn’t the sharp edges of a race weekend or the post-win daze of podiums and press conferences. This was so much more different. Warm, messy in a way that curled around his senses and dimmed the seconds together until the clock disappeared.

Shots kept appearing in his hand like magic, and he went from behind to the front of the bar as he pleased ─ most of the bartenders called him an ‘Honorable Coyote’, which shouldn’t have been as funny as it was at the time. The jukebox never stopped switching music, keeping him on his toes. Lando and Pierre had stolen a mic at some point, or maybe you gave it to them for the hell of it, and slurred She’s Country by Jason Aldean so off-key some of the girls threatened to cut them off, splashing them with ice-cold water. Daniel had tried to climb on the bar twice, failing miserably because rules were rules, Charles was attempting to dance with a girl in a cowboy hat three sizes to big for her head, and Carlos was desperately explaining race strategies to a group of drunken Texan who clearly didn’t know what Formula One was.

And then there was you.

Always moving. Always glowing, whether it be from the sheen of your efforts or the loud, obnoxious ambiance that sublimed your features. You’d disappear back into the rhythm of the bar and the beat of the dance, your natural habitat, flinging bottles in the air, laughing as someone tried to kiss your hand and you sent them waltzing away, yelling over the crowd without care. And now Max was convinced people there didn’t simply think they were in love with you. They undoubtedly were ─ six steps in and all that. And he would have been bothered in any other circumstances.

But whenever Max looked up, he caught you looking at him. Every time, you smiled like you knew exactly what you were doing.

Max didn’t know how much time had passed by that point, only that his throat was dry, his cheeks flushed bright red and hurting from how much he laughed, the back of his neck scorching from something stronger than just alcohol. Somewhere along the way, the night had stopped being about celebrating a win and started being about you.

Maybe that’s how he got roped in a messy attempt at a line dance.

He tried to resist at first. Truly. Max still stood by what he said at the beginning of the night: he was a driver, not a dancer. But when you shouted to ask if everyone wanted to see an F1 World Champion do ‘a little two steps’ and everyone cheered, including his friends and colleagues, the traitors, he couldn’t bring himself to say no. Not when you stood so close to him.

You’re Easy On The Eyes by Terri Clark twanged through the jukebox, loud enough to rattle the shelves and the floorboards, while Max tried to follow your explanations. His hands were on his hips, knees knocking together as he mimicked you except he was two steps behind and overthinking it. You were outwardly mocking him by now. “Your coordination’s better in a car, huh?” You teased.

Max huffed. “You call this coordination?”

“Aw, don’t pout, baby. You’re trying.” He rolled his eyes and you stuck your tongue at him. Daniel was somewhere in the back, filming, but Max had tuned the world out. 

Somehow, in the whirl of bodies, he caught you again, his hands instinctively flying to your waist to steady himself so he wouldn’t faceplant ─ that would be the highlight of his night. Before he could process it, and you always a step ahead of him, you grabbed the cowboy hat off his head and in one slick movement, settled it on yours with a wink. The crowd roared in approval. Someone let out a sharp whistle. Max wasn’t fluent enough in Southern to know what that meant, but the half-lidded look you gave him translated across every barrier.

Game on.

You roped him into much more after that. Max followed blindly, always rising to the challenge, stuck in the daze of you. In the decadence of Coyote Ugly. In the secrecy of the nighttime, where everything felt allowed and nothing had to make sense in the morning.

By the time he was able to breathe, he’d long dismissed the idea to try and find out where his friends had scattered to. The only thing he could feel was the warmth of your hand wrapped around his wrist, tugging him past the old, swinging saloon-style door and out in the thick, velvet air of the Texan night.

The back of the bar was quieter. The hum of crickets, the soft hum of the neon signs bleeding through ancient wooden slats, and the echo of music and laughter still pulsing behind closed doors. Cardboard boxes were lying around, swallowed by the wild, uncut grass. The sky was wide and open above him, seemingly endless, stars barely cutting through the heat haze but present nonetheless. Nobody was there apart from the two of you.

Back against the structure of the bar, Max quietly watched as you lit a cigarette next to him. It didn’t surprise him in the slightest. Wordlessly, you offered him your open back with a raised eyebrow.

“I don’t smoke.” He waved it off.

You shrugged, blowing a grey cloud out to the night. He didn’t mind it ─ driving every day of your life, you get used to the smell. “I don’t really like smoking either. It just gives my hands something to do.”

Max chuckled. That didn’t surprise him either, he already figured out life moved with you and not the contrary. 

It seemed like you didn’t appreciate it when conversations stilled because you were quick to speak up again. “Didn’t think I’d see the day a world champion let a girl make a fool outta him in public,” you said, leaning against the wall. Your shoulder brushed his. The number of times you touched him tonight was too numerous to count, but this one felt different. Innocent.

Max threw a smile at you, eyes darting to his feet for a second, still a little glassy. “I’m not the type to mind.”

And that, for some reason, made you look at him. Actually look at him. The type of look stripping away the chaos, the teasing, the fire-breathing version of yourself you wore so proudly behind the bar. You looked at him and Max was faced with the fact that you were just ─ you. Still half-wild, still sharp, but a little less guarded under the moonlight.

He liked it. A lot.

“D’you always enjoy losing control that much, then?” You asked with a small smile.

Max’s lips parted to answer─ pausing.

He thought about it. How rare this was, to be in a place he didn’t understand perfectly, being in Formula One for 10 years, you get used to the pattern of events, and you know what to target when things don’t go your way to make them bend to your will. Right now, he was tangled in things whose sense escaped him, and did not want to run from it.

His voice was quieter when he finally answered. “Only tonight.”

You took that in with a nod and brought the cigarette back to your lips.

“I’m glad you came tonight, then.”

That was it. No confessions, no fireworks, but Max felt his chest tighten just the same. You were just two people, sharing the silence, letting the sticky Texas air settle into your skins, wondering what the hell would happen when tonight fades. He wasn’t ready to find out the answer yet.

So, Max asked, “What led you to this?”

“To what? Coyote Ugly?” You raised an eyebrow, blowing out a slow stream of smoke and watching it curl around the humidity.

“Yeah. Why do you do it?”

“That’s two different questions, pretty boy.”

“Guess I want an answer to both.”

You hesitated, not because you didn’t want to answer, but because no one ever asked. Not your friends, not your colleagues, much less your family who was less than understanding about your life choices.

You shifted your weight, eyes flicking toward the parking lot in the distance. “Well, I came in looking for a job, obviously.” Your voice was softer now. There was still a bit of tease around the commas, but not nearly as much. “Needed rent money. Didn’t want a desk.”

Max hummed. “Makes sense.”

You tapped the ash off the cigarette. “And then I stayed ‘cause… I dunno. You ever walk into a place and, as crazy as it sounds, even if it’s a mess, I mean like pure chaos, and wild and loud you think ─ yeah. This might be the only place I make sense? I get to perform. I get to be myself. Take up space. Alive, not rotting in place like I was scared to. I wasn’t allowed to… do all that before.”

“I get it.” He nodded.

“Didn’t think you would.”

“I race cars for a living. I get messy.”

It was meant to be a light answer, something thrown back with a crooked smile and a shrug ─ but as the words settled in the small space between you, something shifted.

Max looked out in the dark, the flicker of neon reflecting faintly off the metal of a rusted old pickup nearby. He let himself sink into the silence for a second, and you waited until he was ready to speak up again. And he did, in a whisper, more to himself than to you. “Everything’s always so… calculated. In racing. It’s controlled and measured, even the mess, you know? It’s still part of the plan, of what’s expected, somewhat.”

You turned toward him slightly, hip still leaning against the wall, cigarette flickering between your fingers.

“You’re serious,” you said. Not accusatory ─ just curious. “Like, really serious.”

He glanced at you. “And you’re not.”

“Oh, I can be. I know when not to be, which just happens to be most of the time. And I like it like that, honestly,” you shrugged. “I don’t want to be stuck in something that’ll bury me before my time, and I couldn’t see myself anywhere else now, not when I get to be unashamed like that.” Your last words were just above a whisper. “Free.”

The term stagnates for a while.

Until Max lets out a soft laugh, barely even there. “I don’t think I’ve ever been allowed to be anything else but serious.”

The words surprised him. Not because he never thought about them, but because he never said them out loud. He didn’t think he meant them. Now, they felt unescapable, slightly suffocating ─ and the way you looked at him, patient, didn’t help in the slightest. He exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“It’s always about being perfect. Image, numbers, control. If I mess up, people lose money. I lose standing. Teams fall apart. Media goes insane. There’s no room to just.. exist? I guess?” His voice dips lower.

Max wasn’t about to say anything more. He sobered up too much to spill his guts further to a little more than a stranger. Yet, the way you looked at him ─ meeting his gaze with something softer than you’d shown him all night ─ and what you’ve told him, you didn’t feel like a stranger at all. You, who wore fire like perfume and laughed like a dare, stripped down to ashes.

You voiced what he was thinking. “So we’re not that different. I mean, we both perform. In our ways.”

He couldn’t figure you out, no matter how much he tried, no matter how much you’ve shown and hidden tonight but God, Max could have spent hours and hours trying to puzzle you back until you’d finally make sense.

Instead, he just dipped his head in agreement, which made you smile gently. You nudged him with your shoulder. “Alright, Verstappen. Guess you’re not just a pretty face, huh?”

Max choked on a laugh, and he couldn’t help himself. “You are, though. And a lot more.”

You rolled your eyes at his sad attempt at flirting, snorting, but the grin spreading your lips lingered for longer than it should have. Max shuffled a bit closer to you ─ subtle enough that it could’ve been the heat dragging him in ─ but not so subtle that he missed the way you shifted too, gravity pulling you both toward something unspoken.

Quiet still, you spoke up again, voice barely above the hum of the night. “It’s nice, though. People like us don’t get a lot of moments like this.” You gestured around, the empty half-alley, half-garden bathed in neon spill, the distant sounds of cricket, the sounds of the music and the people inside like a faraway dream. This. The in-between.

Max’s voice came back low, warm. “Then we should make them count.”

You turned to look at him, slower this time. And Max ─ he didn’t dare move. Just watched.

The way the light caught on your dewy skin. The glint of sweat at your temple. Your pupils blown wide, not just from the dark but from interest, curiosity. That sharp, electric pull that had lived between you all night, was finally quiet enough to be noticed.

Your eyes dropped to his lips, just for a moment. It was so fast that he thought he might have imagined it. His heart twisted anyway.

“And how are you planning on making it count, Max?”

His name, swirling around your tongue for the first time tonight ─ sweet, sharp, honey on a blade. It hit him square in the chest.

Something in his chest stammers, tires hitting gravel at full speed, and all reason is thrown aside after that. He doesn’t even know how it came to it ─ your back flush against the wall, his hands on your waist, your eyes boring into his and your cigarette half-smoked, forgotten on the gravel. He could feel your body heat as if it was his, your breath quickening at the contact. He could feel you and he wondered if you felt him just as intensely.

His eyes traced the curves of your lips and Max wondered what you tasted like. Smoke, citrus, spice. He wanted to memorize the taste, throw it into a drink he could get drunk on every night, threatening his health to grasp the memory of you again and again.

That was until─

“MAX?!” A shout echoed down the parking lot. Slurred, and unmistakably Daniel-sounding.

More followed.

“Mate, where did he fuck off to?”

“We’re leaving in ten, HURRY UP!”

It was muffled by the distance, but he knew you heard it as well. The half-smile on your face betrayed you.

“So, you gonna kiss me, pretty boy?” You asked.

It would’ve happened.

Max would’ve leaned in and would’ve chased the heat grasping his ribs whenever you looked at him. He would have mapped your mouth, the curve of your waist beneath his palms, would’ve swallowed every sound you made as he was starved for it. He would’ve kissed you and let you burn him alive, gladly, but─

The voices grew smaller. Daniel’s laugh, Pierre’s yell, Charles’ confusion. Reality bleeding back in. Max’s jaw tensed. If he waited a minute longer, he’d miss his ride. Miss the world contained in his hotel room that would stop spinning if he missed a minute off the clock.

He simply told the truth. 

“If I start,” Max murmured, “I don’t know if I’d be able to stop.”

That earned him a look. It wasn’t surprised, or angry ─ it was something a lot like expectancy, and in some way, it hurt a lot more.

You stepped forward, hand gently rising to meet his chest. The contact was light but the weight of it hit him like a crash and when you pushed, just a fraction, just enough, it wasn’t playful or teasing. It felt like goodbye dressed like mercy. You took the cowboy hat you stole from him earlier in the night and put it back on his head.

“Then don’t start something you can’t finish,” you whispered.

You gave him one last look ─ one he’d replay for days, conflicting emotions dimmed down to the flicker of a lighter in your eyes ─ and turned toward the door.

And Max felt awfully selfish when he asked the shadow of your figure, “Are you still going to be there next time?”

You didn’t even look back at him, but he saw your shoulders shake in a bittersweet sort of laugh, now out of his reach. “In a year, you mean? When the Grand Prix calls you back to Texas? I don’t wait, Max. My life isn’t drawn for me. I take my chances.”

You disappeared.

Max didn’t follow. He just stood there, the imprint of your touch still warm over his heart, wondering if this night would feel like a dream come morning. If you ever existed ─ or if Coyote Ugly had simply conjured you from the smoke and the music to remind him what wanting felt like.

He hadn’t kissed you, but he would never forget almost doing it.

When he climbed in the back of Daniel’s car, he evaded all the questions, the friendly mockery, the knowing glances, the snickering about the cowboy hat he still held in his hand like it was something breakable. Max just sat there, humming along to the comments Carlos made about the night, fidgeting with the brim and rubbing his thumb along the worn fabric like it might give him answers. Maybe it had caught something of you ─ your perfume, your voice, your laugh, the heat of your skin ─ and would let it slip back to him if he held on it long enough.

But it didn’t.

Later, Max crawled into bed with the weight of the night hanging around his ankles like shackles, dragging the air from his lungs. He didn’t sleep much. He didn’t want to.

He woke up with the sun, far too bright for the early morning, streaming through the blinds he forgot to close. He could feel his brain pulsing behind his eyes, his bloodshot eyes struggling to stay open, the remaining, chalky taste of whiskey sticking to his palate like cement. The evening flashed before him, a fever dream he wished he had the strength to push away ─ the obnoxious music, the sweat, the alcohol, and your smile.

Almost.

Max groaned, sitting up with difficulty on his bed. Every single one of his muscles ached, a sore reminder of the failed attempts at dancing and bartending he made last night ─ some spots hurt more than others, and in some measure, they felt like the shape of your hands.

The cowboy hat he had tossed last night, in the desperate attempt to stop anguishing about the brush of your breath across his lips, laid in front of him, miserable. Max couldn’t help himself and he reached for it out of instinct.

It felt cheaper than it did before, most imperfect underneath the daylight. He’d already memorized the texture and shape of the memento, obsessively tracing it, and yet it didn’t feel sufficient. He supposed it never would, and he’d have to live with this reality.

Max was about to put it back on his nightstand. To swallow down an Ibuprofen, chase it with an ice-cold shower, and carry on with his life like always. Another plane, another race, hopefully another win.

But something made him pause. He turned the hat in his hands again, just like he did a few hours before sleep took him by surprise.

And there it was. Tucked just inside the brim, where the lining met the crown ─ scrawled in smudged black ink he’d bet his life was eyeliner, barely visible unless you were compulsively looking for it─

if you dare.

A little heart, and a phone number scribbled right beside it.

Max blinked, mouth parting just slightly, heart mistaking the rhythm of his breathing for the first few notes of a country song. He read it again, and again until it stopped feeling like a trick of the light and started feeling like a choice.

He left thinking you were supposed to be one moment. One night. A blur of burn and guitar chords ─ but you’d left a door open.

And it was seemingly Max’s turn to take his chance.

©LVRCLERC 2025 ━ do not copy, steal, post somewhere else or translate my work without my permission.

[ari-ana-bel-la]

i was wondering if you could write a fic where reader is kelly’s older child from a past relationship and feels left out at times cause kelly and P are much closer than she is with kelly. but basically max is overprotective of her and always wants to involve her in things

he brings her to races, makes sure she doesn’t feel left out at family gatherings or f1 events. he even brags abt her accomplishments to other drivers

More Than Words

The paddock buzzed with its usual energy—mechanics in motion, media everywhere, fans cheering from behind barriers. Max walked through it all with a quiet purpose, his eyes searching the crowd until he spotted her: Yn, sitting on a low wall near the Red Bull hospitality unit, her arms wrapped around her knees, earbuds in, chin resting on her folded arms.

He made his way to her slowly, giving her time to notice him. She didn’t. So, he tapped her shoulder gently.

"Hey," he said softly.

Yn looked up, blinking out of whatever world her music had her in. Her face immediately softened when she saw Max. “Hey,” she mumbled, pulling one earbud out.

"You alright?" he asked, crouching in front of her so he could be eye level.

She nodded, but it wasn’t convincing.

Max tilted his head. "That was a very enthusiastic nod."

She gave a tiny smile. “Just tired.”

Max didn’t press her. He knew that tired didn’t always mean sleep-deprived—it was the kind of tired that settled into your bones when you felt invisible.

“Come on,” he said, holding out his hand. “We’ve got ice cream in the motorhome.”

She hesitated, glancing toward the hospitality unit where she knew Kelly and Penelope were. “I think I’ll just stay here.”

Max’s smile faded, just slightly. He sat next to her instead, letting his knees bump against hers. “You know, I told Checo yesterday that you got a 94 on that science paper. He asked if you were tutoring.”

Yn blinked at him. “You did?”

“Of course. I mean, how many sixteen-year-olds can explain astrophysics to me without even Googling stuff?”

She flushed, hiding a small grin. “I didn’t explain that much…”

“You talked about black holes for twenty minutes. I nearly re-evaluated my whole existence.”

She giggled. “I didn’t even think you were listening.”

Max turned to face her fully, his voice firm but kind. “I always listen to you, Yn.”

She went quiet again. After a beat, she said, “Mom doesn’t.”

Max felt that one land in his chest like a punch.

He didn’t speak for a moment, just gently placed a hand over hers. “I know it feels like that sometimes.”

Yn nodded, biting her lip. “She and P are always laughing together. Watching TikToks, doing their little dances… She doesn’t even ask me how school is anymore unless I bring it up. And then it’s just, ‘That’s good,’ and she moves on.”

Max swallowed. “I see it, too. And it’s not fair. You shouldn’t have to ask for her attention.”

She looked down, her voice smaller. “I don’t even talk to my dad. He texted me ‘k’ last week when I said happy birthday. That’s the only thing I’ve heard all year.”

Max exhaled slowly, his fingers curling protectively around hers. “That’s not okay. That’s not your fault, Yn. He doesn’t get to make you feel unwanted.”

She didn’t cry—but she looked like she might. Her voice shook just a little. “Sometimes it just feels like I’m… extra. Like I’m just there, and no one really notices unless I mess up or get in the way.”

Max shook his head. “Not with me.”

Yn looked up at him.

“Listen,” he said. “You’re not ‘extra,’ okay? You’re you. Smart, funny, a little sarcastic—okay, a lot sarcastic—but also kind. You always help Penelope when she needs something, even when she’s being annoying.”

“She’s always being annoying,” Yn muttered.

Max grinned. “Exactly. And you still help her. You let her play with your hair. You let her steal your hoodies.”

“She stretched out my favorite one…”

“And you didn’t even yell at her. You deserve to be seen, Yn. You deserve to be loved loud.”

She blinked again, her eyes a little glassy. “You always say the nicest things.”

“I just tell the truth.”

Yn leaned her head against his shoulder, and Max rested his head against hers.

After a long pause, she asked, “Do you ever wish I wasn’t around?”

“What?” Max pulled back to look at her properly. “Not for a single second. If anything, I wish I met you earlier.”

She laughed softly. “That would’ve been hard, I was like… eight.”

“Exactly,” Max said. “I could’ve started bragging about you sooner.”

She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling now.

Max stood and offered her his hand again. “Come on. Let’s get ice cream. You can pick the flavor this time.”

“Even if it’s cookie dough?”

“You know that’s my weakness,” he said dramatically. “You’re exploiting my love.”

She finally took his hand, letting him pull her up. As they started walking, Max slung an arm around her shoulder. “Also, I signed you up for that STEM summer camp you mentioned. Don’t worry—I’ll drive you every day if I have to.”

Yn stopped in her tracks. “You did what?”

He smirked. “It’s not until July. You’ve got time to prepare. Or pack.”

“You’re serious?”

“Completely. I figured you might not push for it if you thought no one cared.”

Her face was unreadable for a moment, then she slowly whispered, “Thank you.”

Max gave her a one-armed hug, squeezing her into his side. “Always. You’re stuck with me, Yn.”

As they approached the motorhome, Penelope darted out with a grin and ran straight to Yn. “Can we do your hair again? I brought the glitter clips!”

Yn blinked. She looked to Max for a second—he just nodded.

“Sure,” she said finally, and Penelope squealed, pulling her inside.

Kelly stood near the door, distractedly on her phone. She glanced up briefly. “Oh hey, sweetheart,” she said, barely meeting Yn’s eyes. “Did you eat lunch?”

“Yeah,” Yn answered automatically.

Kelly smiled for a second and returned to texting.

Max watched the exchange silently, then stepped closer to Kelly.

“You know she got a 94 on that science paper, right?”

Kelly glanced up. “Oh… That’s great.”

Max raised an eyebrow. “Maybe you should tell her that.”

Kelly blinked at him, then looked over at Yn and Penelope giggling inside. For a moment, her face shifted—something like guilt or realization washing over her.

Max didn’t say more. He just turned to follow Yn inside.

Because he meant it.

She was his kid, too.

And he was going to make sure she always knew it.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoyed reading this story. My requests are always open for you.

-🩷🎀

[llamaqueenprompt]

Red Flags and Blushes . Part I

Characters: Max Verstappen, Reader

Not Requested

Word Count: 0.6k

Inspiration: "Are you Blushing?"

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❁ Find out who I write for HERE

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❁ See the requests guidelines HERE

❁ Send me a request HERE

The Red Bull garage buzzed around them - mechanics shouting, tires screeching, radios crackling - but Y/n barely heard any of it.

She was too busy trying not to look at Max Verstappen… Or worse - remember.

It had been three weeks since that night in Monaco. One mistake, one brutal, earth-shattering night.

She’d woken up tangled in his sheets, his arm slung lazily over her waist, the early morning light cutting across his face. And for one stupid second, she’d thought about staying.

But she hadn’t. She couldn’t.

“That can’t happen again.” she’d whispered, still half-dressed, still drunk on him.

Max hadn’t argued. He’d just given her a slow, unreadable smile and said. “If you say so.”

Now he stood a few feet away, the top half of his race suit tied around his wais, undershirt clinging to every inch of muscle, hair messy from the helmet. He look unfairly good - and judging by the smug curve of his mouth, he knew exactly what he was doing to her.

Y/n pretended to study the laptop screen in fron of her, scrolling through telemetry data she wasn’t even processing. Her fingers tightened around the edge of the table.

Professional. She needed to be professional.

“You’re really bad at pretending,” Max’s voice cut through the air, low and amused.

She froze.

Slowly, she looked up - and he was right there. Leaning against the table next to her, arms crossed, eyes glinting with amusement. His presence felt loud somehow, even though he wasn’t doing anything but standing there.

“Excuse me?” she said coolly.

Max’s smile widened just a fraction, like he was enjoying a private joke. “Pretending you’re not staing.”

“I wasn’t.”

Lying. Horrible, obvious lying.

He leaned in a little, lowering his voice just for her. “You always were a terrible liar.”

Y/n’s cheeks flamed. She hated how her body betrayed her - how just the sound of his voice, low and teasing, could unravel her so easily.

“You’re imagining things,” she said, turning back to the laptop.

Max chuckled, low and rough, a sound that scraped deliciously down her spine.

“Am I?”

He pushed off the table and moved closer, close enough that she could feel the heat of him. Close enough that old, dangerous memories flickered to life: the scrape of his stubble against her skin, the ways he’d murmured her name against her throat.

“You’re blushing,” he said softly, sounding almost pleased.

Y/n gritted her teeth. “No, I’m not.”

Max crocked his head, studying her like he already knew the answer. Like he knew everything.

Then, voice dropping to a whisper, he said, “Are you blushing, Y/n?”

She closed her eyes for half a second, just to steel herself. Because the way he said her name - low and rough and intimate - was unfair.

She forced a smirk onto her face and turned to face him. “Even if I was,” she said coolly, “it wouldn’t be because of you.”

Max’s smile turned downright dangerous.

He stepped in closer, his hand almost brushing hers where it rested on the table. Her breath hitched.

“You sure about that?” he murmured.

Y/n’s heart was hammering against her ribs. This was exctly why she’d told him no more.

Because Max didn’t just get under your skin - he stayed there, burrowed deep and permanent.

And the worst part? He knew it.

“Max,” she said, her voice low and warning.

He straightened a little, but the smirk never left his face. He stepped back, like he was doing her a favor, like he knew exactly how close she was to snapping.

“Relax,” he said, throwing her a wink over his shoulder as he walked away. “Wouldn’t want anyone thinking we like each other.”

Y/n stood frozen, heart pounding, handa tembling slightly.

God, he was insufferable.

And damn it, she was blushing.

[dannyriccsystem]

FORMULA ONE DRIVERS X READER TEXTS

Summary: F1 boyfriend drunk texts you

Warnings: VERY suggestive, Y/N usage, alcohol mention

Featuring: MV1, DR3, LN4, CL16, LH44, CS55, OP81

I have one more idea I might finish tonight… And then I will get back to requests… But!

Feel free to send some in! Requests open! Check pinned for more

MAX VERSTAPPEN - MV1

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DANIEL RICCIARDO - DR3

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LANDO NORRIS - LN4

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CHARLES LECLERC - CL16

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LEWIS HAMILTON - LH44

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CARLOS SAINZ - CS55

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OSCAR PIASTRI - OP81

[camille-aurelie-deveraux]

Hi queen! I hope you have an amazing day. Could I please request Oscar with an Asian reader and her teaching him a bit of Japanese or something. When McLaren films some content everyone is like really impressed Oscar speaks such good Japanese. And he is like all thanks to my girlfriend

Language of Love

McLaren’s media team was buzzing with energy on a sunny Thursday morning in Melbourne. The garage had been cleaned and cleared to make space for a casual filming setup. Two director’s chairs were placed in front of a backdrop that read “Language Challenge – Aussie Edition,” with small Japanese flags printed in the corners.

Lando was the first to arrive, grinning as he read the sign. “Language challenge? What is this, Duolingo: Driver Mode?”

Oscar followed closely behind, a coffee in hand, looking way too calm for what was about to unfold. “You’ll see,” he said with a mischievous smile.

They took their seats, and a member of the media team handed each of them a little whiteboard and a marker.

“Okay boys,” the director began, “we’re doing a Japanese word guessing challenge today. You’ll each hear a word in Japanese, and you’ll have to write what you think it means. Winner gets... bragging rights.”

Lando groaned dramatically. “Why do I feel like Oscar has an unfair advantage?”

Oscar just smirked and leaned back in his chair. “Well... I might have had a little help.”

The camera rolled, and the first word was played through the speaker.

"ありがとう (arigatou)"

Lando looked like he was having a brain freeze. “I’ve heard this before,” he muttered. “It’s in anime, right?”

Oscar was already scribbling confidently.

Lando finally wrote something down: ‘Good morning?’

Oscar held up his board: ‘Thank you’

“Correct!” the media person called out. “Oscar gets the point!”

Oscar turned to the camera and grinned. “All thanks to my girlfriend. She’s been teaching me.”

Lando narrowed his eyes. “Wait, since when do you speak Japanese?”

Oscar chuckled. “Since I met her, really. She moved to Australia from Japan back when we were still in school. Her English was still a bit rough, and I kind of... helped her out. And she helped me with Japanese. It became our thing.”

Lando’s eyes widened. “Mate, that’s like... so romantic. You’re casually bilingual now?”

Oscar shrugged modestly. “I wouldn’t say bilingual. But I can hold a conversation.”

The next word came through:

"猫 (neko)"

Lando blinked. “What the hell was that?”

Oscar grinned. “Come on, you’ve seen enough memes to know this one.”

Lando shook his head. “Nope. Not a clue.”

Oscar wrote down ‘Cat’ and lifted his board.

“Correct again!” the host called.

Oscar smiled fondly. “She taught me that one when we saw a stray kitten near the station. She just went ‘あっ！猫！(Ah! Neko!)’ and ran to pet it. I had no idea what was happening at the time.”

Lando laughed. “You were probably like, ‘Is she casting a spell?’”

Oscar laughed too. “Pretty much.”

“Say something in Japanese!” Lando urged. “Impress me.”

Oscar glanced at the camera and then straightened up a little, his voice soft but confident.

“彼女は僕のすべてです。”

(“Kanojo wa boku no subete desu.”)

(“She is my everything.”)

The room went quiet for a moment. One of the media girls in the background softly whispered, “Oh my god.”

Lando clutched his heart. “Okay, that’s not fair. That’s like weaponized sweetness. How is Yn real?”

Oscar laughed, cheeks tinting pink. “She’s the best. Honestly. I wouldn't have survived half my teen years without her.”

Another word popped up:

"勉強 (benkyou)"

Lando scratched his head again. “Nope. This one’s a mystery.”

Oscar wrote quickly: ‘Study’

“Correct!”

Lando sighed and tossed his marker down. “Okay, clearly you’ve been holding out on us. You’re secretly a genius.”

Oscar laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Not even close. It was just hours of flashcards and cuddles and helping her with pronunciation. She wanted to get better at English so badly. I remember staying up with her, going over vocabulary, watching movies with subtitles. We made a deal: if she learned a new English word, I’d learn a new Japanese one.”

Lando stared at him. “You guys are like... the most wholesome couple in F1.”

Oscar smiled shyly. “I’m just proud of her. Moving countries at that age? Learning a whole new language? She’s incredible.”

The last word came up:

"愛 (ai)"

Oscar smiled instantly, no hesitation. He wrote ‘Love’ and lifted the board.

Lando peeked over and then sighed in defeat. “You know what? I’m just going to go cry in the car.”

The media team burst into laughter.

“I think we all need to find someone like Yn,” one of the camera guys said.

“She sounds like a dream,” another added.

Oscar leaned toward the mic. “She’s real. And she’s watching this, probably shaking her head because I still mess up my particles sometimes.”

Back at home, Yn was sitting on the couch, curled up with a blanket and a cup of matcha, her laptop open and the McLaren video playing.

When Oscar said, “彼女は僕のすべてです,” she smiled so hard her cheeks ached.

She grabbed her phone and texted him:

“You’re such a show-off. But I love you.”

He replied a minute later:

“愛してるよ (Aishiteru yo). You taught me that.”

Later that evening, Oscar came home to find Yn waiting at the door, arms crossed, a playful glint in her eye.

“You know, now everyone’s going to expect you to be fluent.”

Oscar grinned and wrapped his arms around her. “That just means you’ll have to keep teaching me.”

She raised a brow. “Alright, then. Let’s see if you remember this one—‘おかえり (okaeri)’.”

He leaned in and whispered, “ただいま (tadaima).”

(Welcome home / I’m home.)

She kissed him softly. “Perfect.”

And somewhere online, the McLaren video was trending under the caption:

“Oscar speaks fluent love.”

🧡🦊🪸🍁🧡🦊🪸🍁🧡🦊🪸🍁🧡🦊🪸🍁

Hello, my lovely reader. I hope you all enjoyed reading my story. Send me some requests if you have any wishes.

Also, I tried my best with Japanese, so please forgive me if there are any mistakes.

See ya next time!

-Cami🧡🦊🪸🍁

[multifandomgirl08]

The End of An Era [Mini Verstappen Series]

Dad!Max Verstappen x Mother!Reader (Established Relationship)

Summary: A chapter all about Max's retirement from Formula 1. The Article announcing his retirement. And the last race of his F1 career.

Warning(s): N/A

A/N: Finished writing this during qualifying of Abu Dhabi 2024.

Words: 2.8k

Previous Part → Next Part Mini Verstappen Masterlist

October, 2029

It had been a quiet night in. Max had been unusually quiet during dinner. Nikita was asking Max questions about helping him put his train set back together since he had found out how to take it apart. Nico ended up changing the subject pulling Niki into talking about the model car sets that he had gotten for his 9th birthday. Nik was sitting in his high chair eating, and you were holding Nicole as she drank from her bottle after eating her way through a packet of rice crackers.

You had helped Max clear the table while Sophie had taken the kids into the family room downstairs to watch a movie. Max was cleaning the dishes, and putting everything into the dishwasher. You had put away the last of the leftovers, and looking back you saw how tense Max's shoulders were.

You walked up behind him, placing one of your hands at his side before pressing yourself up against his back, almost as if his broad shoulders were sheltering you from the outside world.

Max stopped scrubbing at the pan, gripping the sponge in his hand. You pressed your chin into the back of his left shoulder.

“You okay?” You asked.

Max gave what looked like half a nod back before you heard the sponge drop into the sink with an almost audible Splat. He moved to turn around, and moved back only slightly.

“I’ve been thinking about retiring.” He said leaning back against the marble counter. You widened your eyes at his words. You didn’t know that this was on Max’s mind. You knew that he had another year on his contract with Red Bull, you just thought that when Red Bull offered him a new contract you could talk about it then, not now.

“Do you want to retire?” The current season wasn’t over for another month. If he wanted he could call it quits this year, Red Bull would have to take the hit for his contract.

“Maybe after next year.” Max moved his hands down to your sides, pulling you into his chest. His hands, although wet, were warm against the loose shirt that you wore. “They are like family to me. I can’t do that to Christian, or anyone in that garage.”

You would never ask Max to retire. It wasn’t your place. He loved racing and you would never ask him to give it up. You know that Red Bull had become like a family to Max. Christian and Geri were like a second set of parents in a way. Not just when it came to Max, but they were also a set of grandparents to your kids.

“Always, I’ve wanted to do more than just Formula 1. But now, with the kids…” He started to say and then stopped himself dropping his eyes down to the floor. “I also want to be home and spend time with them. Maybe racing in a category with a shorter schedule would be for the best.”

“You could always take time off,” As the words left your mouth, you could see Max’s brows furrow in discontent, quickly lifting his head to meet your eyes. “Not now, but once you want to retire or you feel like you’re ready. Take six months off before jumping into anything new.”

You had to think back to when you had thought about no longer working and staying home with the kids full-time, but ultimately you loved your job and thought you would be setting a better example for your kids in the long run. It was about 4 months after Nik was born. You couldn’t bear the thought of having to leave your kids with a sitter all day even if you had been working from home. Your job still took time away from them. So, you took a few months of letting someone handle a few of your clients, and not long after you found out you were pregnant with Nicole. Sometimes it was hard working with both yours and Max’s schedule but you always managed to find a way to make it work.

“I will be out of shape if I choose to get back into racing after.” You could tell that Max was running the logistics over in his head, weighing the pros and cons of stopping for a while.

“You can always hire a trainer.” There were probably hundreds of trainers who would kill to work with Max to get him into racing shape for whatever he chose to do after Formula 1.

“I don’t know.” He said at first as if he was going to move to hang his head, dropping his chin to his chest. He pulled his head up quickly. “Them, you, mean everything to me.”

Max pulled you into his side, pressing a kiss to your temple. “It is a year away.” He muttered into your hair. “I will figure something out by then.”

“Whatever you want to do Max, we’ll be there.” You couldn’t help but run your fingers over the white gold band of the Rolex that you had gotten him just after Nikita was born. It no longer had three birthdays engraved on it but five now.

NEWS

Eight-time champion Max Verstappen to retire from Formula 1 at the end of the 2030 season

F1 Corresponder & Journalist D'Angelo Markus

14th August, 2030

It was announced earlier today that after the end of the 2030 season, Max Verstappen would not be coming back in 2031 with a new contract from Red Bull.

The Dutchman, who made his debut with Scuderia AlphaTauri at the 2017 Australian Grand Prix. Verstappen was the youngest driver to ever make an F1 debut at the age of 17,  a record that he will now forever hold as the FIA had changed that particular rule because of him.

Verstappen won all eight of his championships with Red Bull, four from 2021-2024 and the remaining four from 2026-2029 and is first on the all-time list of Grand Prix winners with 115 victories.

WATCH: Max Verstappen’s 10 Best Overtakes

Verstappen had a few tough years when he was first called up to Red Bull resulting in various engine failures. With the regulation changes, Red Bull and Max were able to capitalize on them pulling out various championship wins with Max at the helm season after season.

Ahead of the Belgian Grand Prix, Verstappen - who races alongside Isack Hadjar - announced that this would be his 15th and final season in Formula 1.

“My championship runs were very different from one another. The first four were in no way easy despite what 2023 looked like. There were constant obstacles from not just outside people but the team as well.” Verstappen said. “The last four were very different as my family was growing as the championships were happening. The team always had my back and year after year were able to give me the best possible car to compete with.”

“I wish them all the best in for the coming season. Being able to work with Adrian [Newey] when he was here, Christian [Horner], Helmut [Marco] who believed in me when I was younger, and GP [Gianpiero Lambiase] who has been a great engineer to work with.”

READ MORE: ‘I have so much more to offer racing then just being a driver.’  - Read Verstappen’s retirement statement in full

When asked about why he was retiring he had this to say, “I’ve achieved so much during my time in Formula 1, but after having won eight championships and being able to achieve that. It’s time to focus on my family. I love this sport and I won’t ever stop racing in some way. But it’s time to watch my children grow and be there to support them in their chosen endeavors.”

On the cusp of winning his 7th world championship, Verstappen’s daughter Nicole was born on the Monday before Verstappen would head to Abu Dhabi for the last race of the season. She’s the youngest of the four children that he has, three of them with his wife Y/N Verstappen. At the time there was a rumor that Verstappen wouldn’t be in Abu Dhabi because of his wife giving birth.

“I thought when my daughter was born I wouldn’t win the championship that year. I wasn’t even sure if I would go to the race, but my wife said, ‘Go, it’s a few days she will be without you but when you come home, even if you don’t win. You will get to hold her and know that you did your best during the race because you were fighting to come back to us.’ She was right, I fought hard to come home to them and walked away with the championship as a result.”

The points race was close that year by a small margin compared to years past being very reminiscent of his first World Drivers Championship in 2021.

After winning and accepting the trophy, Verstappen was quick to leave the track and fly back home to be with his wife and the new addition to his family. The day after he had won the championship, he posted a picture with his family after he was back home in Belgium. His daughter in one of his arms with a glass of champagne in his other hand, in celebration of his recent win with his wife by his side. His three other children were absent from that particular picture.

“Another long season, another win to share with those I love most.” His caption read.

“It will be tough to say goodbye to the team that I have known for my whole career in the sport. I am still a part of the Red Bull family, I will just be racing in a different category in the coming months if everything goes well.”

“I feel like I have so much more to offer racing then just being a driver, I have my own team ‘Verstappen.com’ where sim drivers have to opportunity to go from racing online to being in a real car. It’s something that I’ve been passionate about for years and I’m very excited for this to further come to fruition now that I will have more time to focus on that.” Verstappen said when he was asked what he plans to do after Formula 1.

November 24, 2030

Max didn’t think this day would ever come. Y/N and the kids were in the paddock today for his last race in Formula 1. Nico had been hanging out with Christian for most of the morning on the pitwall, Niki and Nik were with GP in the garage, and Nicole was holding Y/N’s hands. His daughter who had just turned two a few days ago had slipped away into Max’s arms tugging at his race suit wanting to be picked up.

“Papa,” She whined, with a tug of his sleeve. Max lifted her up and placed her on the table in front of all of the screens. Nicole pressed her face into his shoulder while he was talking with Jonathan. He tried to keep one of his hands on Nicole’s back while he was trying to explain something with his hands that had happened during qualifying the day before.

About 20 minutes later, Y/N and the kids were behind the viewing area in the garage. He fist bumped the boys, kissed Nicole on her forehead, and quickly kissed Y/N on the lips while running his finger over her chin. He pulled away from them putting his balaclava on, then slipped on his helmet before climbing into the car.

Getting through the race would easy. He was starting on Pole.

“Radio check for the last time Max.” He heard GP say.

“Loud and clear, GP.” He said. GP told him that it would start in a minute, and he could see the other mechanics pull the tire covers away from the car and some leaving to go back behind the pitwall and the others back to the garage. He was given the all clear for the formation lap, drove around the track before he was back before the start line. Another minute and it would be lights out and away we go for the last time when it came to racing in Formula 1.

Max kept his eyes on the track, taking in GP as he told him about engine settings during the race. He called for a pit stop for new tires, and Max finished off that lap before coming in. He had sat in the car, watching the mechanics work before he was off again out of the pit lane and onto the track again.

He overtook a few of the younger drivers on the grid, Doohan, Bearman, Piastri… Pink, Red, Orange…

“Max, strat 7, strat 7.” He heard GP over the radio. He immediately pressed the needed button on his steering wheel and made the adjustment that GP gave him.

A few laps later there was a yellow flag called, debris needed to be cleared off the track after a collision between Williams and Audi. Then before Max knew it GP was in his ear again, “Okay Max it’s up to you. You can come in for fresh tires and go for a fast lap or just ride it out till the end.”

Max knew what that meant. One last lap. He didn’t even have to think, “I’ll box for softs.”

“Box then.” GP replied.

Max kept driving before he made it to the pitlane and then drove through for a set of fresh softs. He met the mechanics, felt the car go up for a moment, the used mediums being taken off the car and the new set of softs be bolted on before the car was place back down. It took him half a second to start driving to exit out of the pitlane. He exited the pitlane, and then did everything that he could to push for one last fastest lap. Max knew that he was pushing the car as much as it would let him, but he couldn’t help but feel that everything was slowing down as he got to the start of the long straight of the track.

The track was clear ahead of him. He kept on until he knew that he had made it across the line and the checkered flag had been waved.

“Max,” He heard Christian in his ears. “Thank you for everything you’ve done over the years mate. What a way to finish off your last race in F1, Pole, top step of the podium, and a fastest lap. It’s been a pleasure.”

Max knew that Christian was just saying this for the radio message. He would be seeing Christian in about a week for Niki’s birthday, and then again for the FIA Prize Giving.

“Yeah, thank you Christian. It’s been a ride. I said that I wanted to do this for 10 to 15 years more, so these years with the team have meant so much. Sending my best to the team, I’ll miss seeing them.”

Max kept driving before he finally heard GP chime in. “Well done, Max. It’s been special working with you.”

“Yeah, I’ll miss working with you too GP, racing won’t be the same.”

Max managed to pull his car up and then to a stop behind where the number 1 plaque was. He went to remove the steering wheel and then carefully got out of the car, placed the wheel back and then stood on top of it with his arms up in triumph.

He stepped off the car and ran towards the mechanics for the last time into their waiting arms. He got head pats before being placed down, moved to take off his helmet and then got weighed before leaving it on the stand. He looked out further to see Y/N and the kids around her, Nicole in her arms, Nico ever present at his mother’s side, with Niki and Nik doing their best to lean over the barricade.

He walked towards them, embracing his wife as soon as she was in arms reach. He had pulled away, only for Nicole to hug him and yell, “Papa!” into his ear, he had squeezed her to his chest for a moment before letting go. Then the boys all tried to hug him at one time awkwardly piling on top of each other, and it almost felt like he was being embraced by all of the mechanics again even though they were his own sons.

He had walked back over to where the other drivers were, exchanging handshakes and congratulations, some even saying goodbye as if they would never see him again. He looked out to the Abu Dhabi circuit one last time, and then turned to Will Buxton, who was waiting to ask him questions.

He had walked over getting ready for what Will threw at him because after today he would no longer be a F1 driver. His time in Formula 1 had officially come to an end.

Mini Verstappen taglist: @karmabyfernando, @barcagirly, @sachaa-ff, @iamahallucinationnn, @glow-ish, @nonsensical-nonsence, @champomiel, @gothicwidowsworld, @lighttsoutlewis, @itsalwaysgay, @mynameisangeloflife, @ursforever129, @aundercover, @bborra, @mindless-rock, @cixrosie, @barcelonaloverf1life, @konsti081, @mellowarcadefun, @brekkers-whore, @thedecalcomania-blog, @xoscar03, @em-gvf01, @haikyuen, @shelbyteller , @geniusalpaca, @princessria127, @mysticalnightenthusiast, @green-thots, @leah-also-known-as-creatoronwp, @ellelabelle, @lilypat, @dreamercrowd

[jungwnies]

f1 grid | juno positions

୨ৎ : featuring : all drivers on the grid ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by anon) : every driver and which juno position from sabrina carpenter's tour suits them >.>

୨ৎ : genre : suggestive... kinda smutty idk (i don't really write smut anymore so this is a rare one...) obv some are the same positions.. i couldn't sit through an 8 minute video of all the juno positions LMFAO ୨ৎ : tws : suggestive ୨ৎ : word count : 597

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : i couldn't help but post this so soon LMFAO it was such a fun request i couldn't leave it sitting there waiting to be queued ... too good ty anon <3

ʚ・red bull

max verstappen - standing doggy no time for nonsense, just efficient execution. aggressive, locked-in, and somehow still makes you feel completely taken care of. terrifyingly good at everything, including this.

yuki tsunoda - cowgirl tiny menace. gives full chaos and control. jokes around, then ruins you. he’s in charge, not you. don’t be fooled by the baby face.

ʚ・mercedes

george russell - legs up missionary textbook performance, but with precision and tenderness. prepped for this moment like it was a championship strategy. probably asks if you’re comfortable mid-way through.

kimi antonelli - bridge young but scarily talented. pulls it off like it’s nothing and casually shrugs after. doesn’t even realize how hot he looks doing it.

ʚ・ferrari

charles leclerc - reverse cowgirl quiet in interviews, dramatic on the radio. gives you “hopeless romantic who pretends not to care” energy. lets you take the lead but still makes it cinematic somehow.

lewis hamilton - spooning luxury. candles. playlist curated to the vibe. everything is intentional, soft, and meaningful. says “i got you” and means it.

ʚ・mclaren

lando norris - ballet dancer starts off laughing, then surprises you with full performance energy. twirls you around like it’s a rom-com, then bites your neck for fun.

oscar piastri - tucked missionary he’s calm, quiet, and absolutely calculated. very into the technical details. doesn’t make a fuss but has you clutching the sheets like ??? how???

ʚ・aston martin

fernando alonso - squatting cowgirl age is just a number. balances like a yoga master, keeps eye contact, and somehow turns it into a motivational speech halfway through.

lance stroll - one-leg-up missionary chill, not flashy, but shockingly good at this exact position. leans into it casually. acts like it’s nothing but has you seeing stars.

ʚ・williams

alex albon - kneeling oral sweetest boy alive. loves making you happy more than anything. says “tell me what you like” with the softest voice. gold star giver.

carlos sainz - doggy classic. passionate. in control. the man thrives under pressure and it shows. focused, intense, and somehow turns this into a performance worthy of applause. probably whispers something in spanish that short-circuits your brain. makes you feel like it was your idea the whole time.

ʚ・haas

ollie bearman - one-leg spoon baby boy energy. tries his best. a little shy but committed. accidentally makes it romantic. 10/10 would comfort you with snacks after.

esteban ocon - missionary starts off shy, but the moment kicks in and suddenly it’s like he’s been rehearsing this in the mirror. soft-spoken, maybe even a little awkward beforehand, but he’s determined to prove himself. will absolutely debrief the whole experience afterward like it's a post-race interview.

ʚ・racing bulls

liam lawson - splits unsuspecting menace. looks like he’d hesitate, then surprises you with flexibility and full commitment. asks afterward if he did good. he did.

isack hadjar - the arch absolutely shows off. confident, slightly cocky, but backs it up. makes eye contact while doing it and smirks when you blush.

ʚ・alpine

pierre gasly - reverse cowgirl he’s not doing the work — you are. but he’s there for the view, hands behind his head, sunglasses still on indoors. makes smug comments the entire time like, “yeah, just like that.” fully vibing while somehow still running the show. would wink at you mid-movement and say something unhinged in french.

jack doohan - cowgirl confident in theory, flustered in practice. lets you take the lead but lowkey panics when you actually do. tries to act chill but you can literally feel his heart pounding through his chest. afterward, he’s all pink-cheeked and smiley, like “that was great… did I do okay?” you reassure him. he did amazing.

2021-2025 © jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[l4ndoflove]

simp...ly lovely

feat. max verstappen

lyrics you: a worldwide renowned singer. max: four-time f1 world champion... and apparently your biggest fan?

maddie corny title, corny faceclaim, definitely corny concept, but i had SO MUCH fun writing it (if you want more smaus, send in your ideas!)

faceclaim @ lalalalisa_m

ynofficial

❤️ 3.8M 💬 18.2K

liked by tatemcrae, oliviarodrigo, maxverstappen1 and others

ynofficial singapore was UNREAL tonight. thanks to every single one of you for making it possible, i love u all <3 (still can't believe this was the last show tbh, miss u already)

asia tour over for now, see you guys soon xx

comments

tatemcrae ATE

↳ ynofficial you can't spell ate without tate

❤️ by tatemcrae

↳ user1 MOTHERS

↳ user2 their friendship is my roman empire

↳ user3 collab when???

↳ user4 yn x t8 would be the end of me

oliviarodrigo prettiest girl everrrrr 💞

↳ ynofficial back at you liv 💞💞💞

↳ user5 AWWW

↳ spotify our favorite pop princesses 💕

❤️ by ynofficial and oliviarodrigo

↳ user6 prettiest besties alive fr

↳ user7 the matching heart emojis 🥹

↳ user8 people need a ynolivia tour ASAP

↳ user9 i am people people is me

↳ user10 YES PLEASE 💳💥💳💥💳💥

user11 the duality of woman

↳ user12 i swear like how is that the same person

↳ user13 good girl 🫦 vs good girl 😚

↳ user14 LITERALLY

↳ user15 if girlhood is a spectrum was a person:

user16 "miss you already" JUST ADD NEW DATES???

↳ ynofficial working on it 🫶

↳ user16 oh

↳ user17 LMAO IT ACTUALLY WORKED

↳ user18 @.user16 the hero we deserved 👏

↳ user19 wait so new dates actually confirmed!?

↳ user20 omg chill she didn't say anything yet

user21 BODY. IS. TEA.

↳ user22 outfit too 🙂‍↕️

↳ user23 don't forget the makeup!

user24 am i the only confused f1 fan here or

↳ user25 NO BECAUSE SAME

↳ user26 so we're all seeing max in the likes right

↳ user27 apparently

↳ user28 max verstappen being part of the yn fandom was not on my 2025 bingo card

↳ user29 are we sure he didn't like this by accident 😭

↳ user30 that sounds like something he would do yes

↳ user31 i hate to break it to you but he's been at it for the past three weeks

↳ user32 guys he liked ALL her tour posts

↳ user33 SIMPly lovely huh?

↳ user34 LOL BYE

↳ user35 plot twist is plot twisting

f1 and ynofficial

❤️ 3.2M 💬 39K

liked by maxverstappen1 and others

f1 coming soon... @.ynofficial 🎤✨️

05.04.25 | 21:00 utc

#japanesegp

comments

user36 who is this and why is she on my fyp

user37 what about focusing on the race instead? just a thought

user38 and the earth kept spinning

user39 world before: 🌍 world after: 🌍

↳ user40 no one asked 😍

user41 YN STANS HOW ARE WE FEELING ABOUT THIS

↳ user42 f1 fan here, i have no idea who she is and i couldn't care less

↳ user43 okay?

↳ user44 this is exactly why f1 "fans" scare me

↳ user45 anyways I'M SO EXCITED AAAHH

↳ user46 me too! i missed her tour but i bought tickets to the race so now i get both... 🫠

↳ user47 ugh you're so luckyyyyy

↳ user48 f1 x yn fans living their best life rn

user49 OH THIS IS GOING TO BE SO GOOD

user50 face card never declines 🛐

↳ user51 🔥🔥🔥

user52 mommy 🥵

user53 if this is an april fools' joke it's not funny

↳ user54 PLS IT HAS TO BE REAL

↳ user55 🕯manifesting hard🕯

↳ user56 may our prayers be answered 🙏

↳ user57 🍀🍀🍀

↳ user58 you're not normal

user59 why is everyone in the comments so mad 💀

↳ user60 fr like get a life

user61 forget everything the dutchman did it again

↳ user62 he's so real for that

↳ user63 DUDUDUDU HE'S DOWN BADDD

↳ user64 the real question now is can suzuka handle these two goats

↳ f1 guess we'll see 😉

user65 SCREAMING

ynofficial

❤️ 6.8M 💬 40.6K

liked by f1, maxverstappen1, oliviarodrigo and others

ynofficial quali now, sound check later 🥂🏁

comments

oliviarodrigo babe you're GLOWING

↳ ynofficial it's the suzuka weather ☀️

f1 keep an eye out for our next pole sitter 👀

↳ ynofficial on it 🫡

❤️ by maxverstappen1

↳ user66 *insert leonardo dicaprio gif here*

↳ user67 BRO THOUGHT WE WOULDN'T NOTICE

↳ user68 he's so confident he'll get pole 😭

↳ user69 he will just for her 🗣🗣🗣

↳ user70 stay delulu folks ✊️😔

↳ ynofficial i believe in him 🙃

↳ user71 WHAT'S WRONG WITH THEM

↳ user72 i'm already way too invested in their dynamic

↳ user73 new ship to obsess over unlocked

↳ user74 now my life is complete again 😌

↳ user75 do you people really have nothing better to do in your free time?

↳ user76 as a ferrari fan the only other available option is depression so no 🥰

↳ user77 @.user75 we're good thanks 👍

user78 why is she here again?

↳ user79 let her breathe ffs

↳ user80 still genuinely don't understand where all the hate came from

↳ user81 maybe it's because she has nothing to do with f1?

↳ user82 she's not the first celebrity they've invited tho???

↳ user83 i fear this argument is going nowhere

↳ user84 neither is our girl but y'all aren't ready for that conversation

↳ user85 PERIOD

f1gossippofficial

❤️ 62.7 K 💬 23.4K

f1gossippofficial max verstappen was seen attending yn's concert last night in suzuka!

comments

user86 you don't say

user87 *20 missed calls from lando*

user88 are we supposed to be surprised?

user89 yeah like any other driver so what

user90 who cares

user91 celebrating his pole position in style i see

↳ user92 like a winner 🙂‍↕️

↳ user93 he is a man of culture after all

user94 it's giving supportive boyfriend

↳ user95 they're not even together

↳ user96 exactly

↳ user97 a girl can dream 🤷‍♀️

user98 okay but that clip of him singing along was genuinely so funny

↳ user99 man knew the lyrics word by word

↳ user100 where can i find it???

↳ user101 it was on lando's stories i think(?)

↳ user102 bro woke up and decided to expose max's ass

↳ user103 very demure and mindful of him

↳ user104 he did god's work 🙏

↳ user105 lando is actually maxyn's number 1 supporter and no one can change my mind

user106 THE WAY HE'S LOOKING AT YN IN THE FIRST PIC HELLO ⁉️⁉️⁉️

↳ user107 how do you know it's her 💀

↳ user108 i mean i don't think he would look at lando like that

↳ user109 maybe charles was on stage

user110 her smile omg 🥹

↳ user111 she was congratulating max btw

↳ user112 JAIL

↳ user113 STOP SHE WAS BLUSHING SO HARD HAHAHA

user114 they're in love your honor

user115 i'm so not normal about them

redbullracing

❤️ 7.6M 💬 42.5K

liked by ynofficial, maxverstappen1, lando and others

redbullracing it was simply lovely meeting you @.ynofficial ❤️

comments

user116 PARENTS

user117 OMG ADMIN SHIPS IT TOO

user118 wasn’t this a lestappen fanpage

↳ user119 💔

↳ user120 charles crying in the corner because he's not max's main love interest anymore

↳ redbullracing dw he's still our favorite 😉

↳ user121 try not to ship two of the most problematic drivers on the grid: level impossible

↳ user122 no one fangirls over them like red bull

user123 MAX LOOKS SO PROUD I CAN'T

↳ user124 i bet the little fanboy in him was screaming

↳ user125 max "i'm just happy to be here" verstappen

↳ user126 they're so barbie and ken coded idc what anyone says

↳ user127 wait i can actually see that

user128 idk about her outfit...

↳ user129 and she doesn't know about you, problem solved 😘

user130 get her away from the paddock

↳ user131 what did she ever do to you 😭

↳ user132 i say let 👏 the 👏 woman 👏 breathe 👏

↳ user133 amen 🙌

user134 SHE WAS THE ONE WAVING THE FLAG I'M UNWELL

↳ user135 i'm gonna pretend this means she helped him win (i'm delusional)

↳ maxverstappen1 she did

↳ maxverstappen1 she was my lucky charm

↳ user136 AGAIN!?

↳ user137 i'm ending it all

↳ user138 he's so awkward it's painful

↳ user139 STOP DELETING THE COMMENTS AND JUST ASK HER OUT ALREADY

↳ user140 why do i feel like he could really use some rizz classes from lando

❤️ by lando

↳ lando @.maxverstappen1 told ya

maxverstappenfanclub

❤️ 91.3K 💬 31.2K

maxverstappenfanclub unseen photos of max and yn in suzuka 🤩🇯🇵

comments

user141 how dare instagram hide this from me for a whole minute

↳ user142 HOW DARE RED BULL HIDE THIS FROM US IN GENERAL

↳ user143 the disrespect 😨

↳ user144 they wanted to keep all the wholesomeness to themselves

↳ user145 selfish pricks

user146 if you heard someone screaming that was me

↳ user147 if you heard someone screaming no you didn't. i passed out

↳ user148 only acceptable reaction

user149 do they know it's legal to talk about their feelings instead of doing whatever the fuck this is

user150 BLUSHING GIGGLING KICKING MY FEET

↳ user151 SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP

↳ user152 there are two types of people:

↳ user153 both valid af

user154 THE FIRST ONE IS THE REASON I STILL BELIEVE IN LOVE

↳ user155 the eyes chico, they never lie

↳ user156 the physical need to have someone looking at me like that

↳ user157 so true

user158 oh he's GONE gone

user159 everyone talking about max BUT WHAT ABOUT YN

↳ user160 ❗️❗️❗️

↳ user161 YES THANK YOU

user162 you have no idea how much this means to me

user163 HER SMILE WHEN SHE SAW HIS CARHQYQKCZGUD

↳ user164 and the little happy dance MY HEART

user165 they're disgusting (i love them sm)

f1wags._

❤️ 245K 💬 63.7K

f1wags._ ⁉️NEW WAG ALERT⁉️ @.maxverstappen1 and @.ynofficial spotted together after their collab shoot in suzuka!

comments

user166 hey so this is actually insane 😃

user167 I JUST OPENED INSTAGRAM WTF IS THIS

user168 WE WON

↳ user169 SUCK IT HATERS

↳ user170 calm tf down it doesn't mean anything

↳ user171 suuure

↳ user172 they say denial is a river in egypt

↳ user173 just accept the fact that we were right all along and move on 😝

user174 MAXYN NATION RISE

↳ user175 our moment has finally arrived

user176 i have no idea how we got here but i'm definitely not complaining

user177 we're being fed with this content

user178 I DIED DEAD

user179 when why and how did this happen

user180 i love how it goes from normal shooting to flirting to full-on tits out

user181 HAND PLACEMENT

↳ user182 i see what you did there maximilian

↳ user183 i'm 99.9% sure he smacked her ass one second after that picture was taken

↳ maxverstappen1 why the 0.1%?

↳ user184 FREAKSTAPPEN STRIKES ONCE AGAIN

↳ user185 i can't believe he actually wrote that omg

user186 BOOM SHAKALAKA

↳ user187 max or yn?

↳ user188 both. both is good

user189 I NEED A BIG BOY GIVE ME A BIG BOYYYYY 😫❣️

user190 great now kiss

ynofficial

❤️ 11M 💬 86.2K

liked by maxverstappen1, oliviarodrigo, tatemcrae and others

ynofficial fast cars, faster hearts 🫶

comments

oliviarodrigo can't believe i really lost you to a m*n 🤢

↳ tatemcrae he doesn't deserve you babe

↳ ynofficial don't be mean🧍‍♀️

↳ tatemcrae not mean. just honest

↳ oliviarodrigo yeah no i'm sticking to mean

user191 nothing will ever top this day

user192 THIS IS A HISTORICAL MOMENT

user193 I FUCKING KNEW IT

user194 canon event

user195 it was bound to happen at one point

user196 not the couple we deserved but the one we needed

user197 YOU CAN'T JUST DROP THINGS LIKE THIS ON A RANDOM SATURDAY

user198 the ship has sailed i repeat the ship has sailed

user199 words cannot describe how i'm feeling right now

user200 i've been jumping around my room for the past five minutes

redbullracing happy for you 🥰 (charles... not so much)

↳ user201 admin is still stuck on lestappen and so am i

↳ user202 maxyn defender till the day i die but lestappen is THE otp

user203 lando's lessons actually paid off lol

↳ lando you had doubts?

↳ user203 no sir 🫡

↳ user204 lando yesrizz

❤️ by lando

user205 HOLY SHIT THIS WAS BETTER THAN READING A FANFIC

maxverstappen1 ❤️❤️❤️

© 2025 l4ndoflove. all rights reserved.

[slutforformulaone]

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ when he goes out but you're overly clingy, dramatic & deeply in love with him (texts) ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

warning : still new to writing these, fluff

featuring : oscar piastri, charles leclerc, lando norris, max verstappen & george russell!

a/n : please comment and send me requests for these text fanfics! lmk if you want anyone else to be included in these or if you're looking for a specific scenario! :)

༺☆༻

[sunflowerlando]

F1 Driver Texts

You accidentally text him about liking him

F1 Masterlist

Lewis Hamilton • George Russell • Oscar Piastri • Lando Norris • Charles Leclerc • Carlos Sainz • Max Verstappen • Daniel Ricciardo • Franco Colapinto • Pierre Gasly

REQUESTS ARE OPEN FOR F1 DRIVER TEXTS. Send me an ask 😊