#Mini Verstappen Series

[multifandomgirl08]

White Wedding (Mini Verstappen Series)

Dad!Max Verstappen x Wife!Reader (Established Relationship)

Summary: The Full version of the wedding.

Warning(s): N/A

Words: 4.9k

Previous Part → Next Part Mini Verstappen Masterlist

February 2, 2025

It had been a surprisingly warm day in Belgium for February. You had spent the morning at Victoria’s apartment getting ready for the wedding. You had coffee with Sophie before the hair and makeup lady came to get all three of you ready.

You and Max had chosen to have the wedding at a neoclassical castle in Kapellen. It was big enough given that the guest list had a little more than 100 people showing up. You have been a little concerned as it normally was still snowing in Belgium during this part of the year.

The woman who was doing your hair into loose waves pinned some of the ringlets back away from your face, spraying on the last bit of the hairspray when Victoria had walked into the room holding Luka.

“Ready?” She asked.

You gave her a nod back.

The drive over made some of your nerves come out. You were tapping your foot in the backseat. Sophie had eventually put her hand over your knee. You had stopped instantly leaning back, this was probably the longest you had gone without talking to Max since you had moved in with him.

Pulling up to the castle felt surreal. It had all been set up with white tent covers. You could see people outside, some straighten-ing chairs, and others moving around to fix flower arrangements.

Victoria had parked the car and got out.

“Come on, we should go up before anyone sees you.” Sophie said, opening the door.

You had walked through the back entrance of the house, taking in the fine crown molding just like you did the first time you and Max had walked through here together.

“It’s a little much, no?” He asked.

“Well you only get married once.” You said placing your hand on the banister that lead upstairs.

“Just once? What if I want to marry you again?”

“Then next time you can choose,” You said before feeling his hand grip yours.

You knew that this venue wasn’t exactly Max’s style. A beach Caribbean wedding was the original plan, but it fell through with the wedding date being a month before the start of the season and still wanting to go on a two week honeymoon.

“Fine, castle it is.” Max placed a kiss on your forehead. “I get first choice on food when we talk to the caterer though.”

You knew exactly what Max would want to serve everyone, kebabs with a few Italian inspired dishes added in.

“Okay, but we’re doing family style since it’ll be easier. We just need to make sure to have a vegan option for Lewis.”

“You always think of everything.” You leaned in a little more into Max’s side giving your shoulders a small shrug.

“Thank the wedding planner for being able to do this in less than 5 months.” Both you and Max shared a chuckle before walking outside to take a look at where the actual wedding would take place.

You had gone up to the master bedroom to see the dress that you had picked out was already hanging on the white silk hanger, in the Ivory color that you had chosen all those months ago forgoing the Dutch tradition of wearing white. Pnina Tornai really knew how to design a wedding dress. It was mermaid style with defined lace detailing that had a bone in strapless corset top.

“My brother isn’t going to know what hit him.” Victoria said, as she stood there in a blush pink dress of her own choosing.

You smiled at her before she helped you put on the dress, lacing up the corset strings, and tightened them just enough so you could still breathe. She had fastened the strings at the end of the corset and then left saying that she was going to check on Max.

“Can you tell him that I’ll see him down there?” You asked her. She nodded back to you.

“I will.” Before leaving the room.

Sophie had come in when you were putting in a pair of Van Cleef mother of pearl butterfly stud earrings in white gold.

You saw her from the mirror in the vanity. She was wearing a navy off the shoulder dress that cut off just after her knees and in her hands she was holding a black box.

“Halo, Y/N.”

“Hi, Sophie.” She walked further into the room, closing the door behind her. She moved to sit to the left of you pulling up a chair, before moving the black velvet box into your lap.

“I know, normally in the Dutch tradition the mother of the grooms don’t give the bride a gift, but I wanted to give you something that I wore on my wedding day to Jos... My marriage to Max’s father wasn’t the happiest, but it was a testament to how strong I became as a person as a result of being married to him. Marriage isn’t an easy thing, it’s constant work, you must take the bad with the good while you are together.” She took in a shaky breath. “My son is going to be your teammate in life, love, and in parenting.” She paused.

“So, I’m giving you this as a reminder to love Max with everything that you have, and with my hope that you'll make sure to listen to one another, and to be there when times are the hardest.” She finished, and then encouraged you to open the box.

You had pulled the lid open to reveal a diamond tennis bracelet, made of single carat stones in a white gold setting.

“My mother had it made for me, and I want to give it to you, and if you and Max ever have a daughter, I thought you could pass it down to her.”

You were a little blown away.

“Sophie, are you sure you don’t want to give this to Victoria? I’m sure when Tom is ready they’ll-“She didn’t let you finish your sentence and started to shake her head no.

“I have many pieces that will one day be hers. This is just for you.” Sophie took the bracelet out of the box and clasped it around your left wrist.

You didn’t know how to say thank you for this. So, instead you reached over and hugged her. She had slowly pulled away from you, taking your hand.

“Come, my son won’t wait all day.” You lightly laughed, quickly slipping on the 3-inch nude suede crystal encrusted Louboutin shoes onto your feet.

Sophie had walked down the stairs with you and ushered you into the living room but not fast enough that you didn’t see Max, who was standing there with Daniel, Martijn, and Max’s childhood friend Jack.

You could hear Nico’s voice, “Just walk and hold the pillow?”

“Yes, and when we need them, Daniel will ask for them. Just like in practice.”

“Okay Papa.” Nico said up to Max. “But why is Mama’s ring so sparkly?”

“Because Mama deserves a ring that’s pretty but not prettier than she is.” Hearing Max say that made a flash of tears fill up your eyes.

You only had a few moments before Sophie needed to walk out there before Max. You couldn't help but be a little nervous about walking down the aisle.

“Sophie,” Y/N said to her as they walked out of the room, hand in hand before the music started playing for her to walk down the aisle. “I just want to thank you. Thank you for raising Max the way that you did, and being there for him when Nico came into his life.”

You could see that Sophie was starting to tear up a bit. “My son loves you, and my grandson too. I couldn’t have asked for a better wife to my son even if I had a hand in choosing her myself.”

You gave her a nod and then she hugged you, pulling you in a little tight. She gave one of your hands a squeeze before walking out of the room, making sure to give you the bouquet of tulips, peonies, and hydrangeas all in shades of white or blue.

You could hear some of the music start from outside, with the hallway slowly clearing out after that.

Nico going first, hoping that he remembered to sit next to Tom just like at the rehearsal, and then with your friends moving to clasp arms with Martijn, and Jack. Victoria and Daniel went last as Maid of Honor and Best Man.

Sophie was supposed to walk out next with Max but you could hear her through the wall.

“I’m surprised that you’re not nervous.” She spoke.

“Nervous? No, everything feels right, like it should. I just want to see her.” You heard Max say.

“You will, and she looks beautiful.”

“Thank you for everything Mum, really.”

“She makes you happy, that is all a mother could want for her son.”

It fell quiet after that. The only sound was coming from outside, there was a key change and then the sound of an orchestral rendition of Lana Del Rey’s Young and Beautiful started to play.

That was your cue.

You had made your way out of the living room towards the doors that lead out into the lawn, through the open doors and saw everyone sitting there. You could see people from your side of the family, friends, co-workers, and Lewis (who insisted on sitting on your side of the aisle) sitting on the left side. Then on the right you could see a mix of Max’s family, the guys on the grid & Sebastian Vettel, some of the engineers from Red Bull, a few of the Team Redline guys, and then Christian and Geri who were sitting in the front row with Sophie, Tom, Nico, Luka, and Leo.

You looked down the aisle to see Max standing there, in a fitted black suit, giving you a watery smile, with a few tears falling from his eyes.

You gripped your bouquet tighter trying to move at the same pace of the song. You wanted to already be up there, standing next to Max.

A few more short steps before you were looking at Max, his eyes a watery blue, with a wide smile across his face.

You took a step up on the small platform, now standing next to Max. You gave him a reassuring smile.

Both you and Max looked at one another before the officiant started.

“Hello everyone,” The graying man said into the mic. “We are all gathered here today before friends, family, and loved ones to bring together Max and Y/N. By being here today in front of close friends and family, they are making a lasting commitment to one another, to love, to be present, to always listen to the other, to fight every battle as if they are one team, one family, to love the other with pure adoration, understanding, and a spark that doesn’t diminish over time.”

There was a silent moment before he continued, “I would like Max and Y/N to join hands for this next part so they may exchange vows and rings.”

You leaned down a little to hand over your bouquet to Victoria, who happily took it from your hands.

You stepped towards Max, mouthing a small, “Hi.”

He gave you a silent chuckle and a, “Hello.” back clasping your hands together.

“And the rings please,” The officiant asked, looking at Daniel.

Daniel gave a small shake of his head, silently saying that he didn’t have them and then pretended to check his pockets until Nico came up behind Daniel and pulled them out of one of the front pockets of Daniel’s suit.

Max laughed slightly, shaking his head at Daniel before the rings were in the officiant’s hands. You let out a small chuckle, same old Daniel. You had hoped that he would put his antics to rest on this one day.

“A circle is a symbol of Unity, Infinity, wholeness as well as eternal love. By wearing these rings, you are promising to uphold all of these meanings to one another from this day, until you’re last. Y/N if you will please?” He asked holding his hand open for her to take Max’s ring in her hand to slip it onto his finger.

“Max,” She started feeling the weaved carbon fiber that made up the design of his ring, slipping it onto his left hand. “I don’t know what my life would be like without you and Nico in it. I feel the most loved when I’m with you, and I feel lucky every day that you trust me, can joke around with me, and let me be your shoulder to lean on when you need it.”

She took in a small breath, “I’m in awe of the loyalty that you have for people, and then I remember that I’m one of those few lucky people who has it too. I love you; I just love everything about you, how you are never anything but yourself to people, that you're honest with everyone that you meet, and loving, to your sister, mom, nephews, our cats, and your son.”

You looked from Max to Nico, outstretching your hand towards Nico, asking him to walk closer to you so he could stand up on the altar with you and Max. You waited until Nico stood at your side and reached his little hand up to hold yours.

“Your son, our son means so much to me,” You could see that Max’s eyes were welling up with more tears. You kept a strong hold on Max’s hand while leaning down towards Nico, talking directly to him.

“Nico, I may not have been there when you were born, or when you experienced a few of your firsts. Regardless of those things, you’ll always be my son, and I won’t let anything, or anyone change that.”

Nico was quick to reach for you, wrapping his arms around the lace fabric at the bottom of the dress. “Mama.” You could hear him sob. He tightened his hold around your knees, and you looked up at Max seeing him give you the biggest watery smile that he could manage and pressed his lips together to stop his tears from falling.

You placed a kiss on Nico's forehead and then did your best to stand, but he didn’t let you go with his hands still on the skirt of your dress.

“You and our son are my family, and that will always come first to me. I promise to make this last, through every argument, every night spent away from one another, and every child that we may have in the future.” You finished off taking in a shaky breath.

The officiant just stood there and held out his hand for Max to start.

Max blinked trying to clear the tears from his eyes and then cleared his throat. “I remember when we first met,” He started and took a pause. “You told me that if something matters… I’d make time for it. I was surprised that you had given me a chance, and had been so patient with me, letting me set the pace through those eight months.” It had been hard, letting Max set the pace of the relationship early on. But you have been patient with him because you felt like he was worth waiting for. You felt him grip your hand tighter, his thumb tracing over your fingers like a track that he could drive in his sleep. “This was all before you had found out about Nico, when we were still trying to make us work, flying from London to Monaco just to spend a few hours together, it was also before you had become Nico’s mum.”

As Max spoke you could feel that he wasn’t as nervous to tell you these things. He wasn’t as nervous to let you know what going through those things was like for him. 

“Once you found out about Nico, I felt like I had finally found someone who I could let myself be goofy and joke with. You understand me without me having to tell you things. You don’t push me to talk about things unless I let you. You are my lioness, my mijn leeuwin, protecting our cub, and building us a home while I’m off racing. You are the barrier from the outside world where I don’t have to worry about anything else. I know that you’re there, waiting for me to come home, always.”

Max had reached for the diamond encrusted ring, slowly slipping it onto your finger and then lifted your hand up to his lips placing a kiss on top of the band. He pulled away and you ran a finger over his chin feeling the light stubble under your finger. He gave you a big smile to the point where his eyes crinkled at the sides and watched as his lips slightly trembled.

“I promise to protect that with everything that I have, never take you for granted, to always listen to you, and make you feel like you are the most important thing to me, more than any trophy, or the miles that may separate us when I’m gone.”

“I love you.” You whispered to him when you felt a single tear fall down your cheek.

There were a few silent beats, almost as if the words needed to sink in before the officiant started again.

“Do you Y/N take Max to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day on, for better or worse, richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?” The officiant asked.

“I do.” You said without any hesitation in your voice.

“And do you Max, take Y/N to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day on, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickedness and in health, until death do you part?”

“Yes, I do.” Max smiled wide with his words.

“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” The officiant said and then took a small step back. “You can kiss the bride.”

Max took a small step forward and then you did as well. Your lips met Max’s with his hand holding your waist and then dropping to the back of your dress running over the lace detailing and ribbon that made up the back of the corset. Your arms went around his neck pulling him in deeper. The hoots and hollers from the crowd muffled in your ears.

A few seconds later you could feel Nico’s hand drop from the skirt of your dress before you and Max pulled away from each other. You looked out to see that Nico was standing next to Sophie now before you felt Max take your hand so you could walk inside. Max took a few steps and then helped you down from the altar so you didn’t trip in your shoes.

Half an hour after the ceremony, the guests were already inside. Martin was behind the DJ booth with Lando standing by his side.

“I still don’t know why Y/N and Max didn’t take my offer to DJ the wedding?” Lando asked Martin.

“Maybe because I already offered, and it wasn’t as an exchange for a wedding gift.” He said turning down the EQ levels to the track that was playing.

Lando just shook his head before taking a sip of his drink.

“Has anyone seen the bride and groom yet?” Daniel asked Victoria and Tom who were standing a few meters away from Martin

“Not yet. Grand entrance and all.” Tom replied.

Daniel kept walking through the room, making his rounds as best man until he stopped at Sebastian and talked to him for a bit.

“Hey Seb,” Daniel greeted him.

“Daniel,” He greeted the Aussie with a hug.

“Max told me he wasn’t sure if you were gonna come.”

“Last minute RSVP. I wasn’t sure if I was at first. But happy that I could be here to see him settle down and get married.”

“He’s happy that you're here. Just waiting to see him and the Mrs. come down soon.”

“Well, before that, how do you feel about a little bet between former teammates?” Seb asked, placing his arm around Daniel’s shoulders.

“What have you got in mind?” Daniel said, leading Seb towards the bar. He saw Sophie come into the room from outside while holding Nico’s hand. The wedding photographer must have been done with them outside.

A few minutes later the music changed again and two sets of footsteps could be heard against the wood flooring. There was a loud cheer from all of the guests seeing Max and Y/N walk out from under the doorway.

From there the room broke out in upbeat music with people eating and drinking, with people breaking into little groups of conversation while occasionally walking over to the bride and groom to give them their congratulations.

The second course had been placed down on the tables and everyone was sitting in their seats with Daniel moving to stand to the right of Max. 

Daniel gave a loud whistle trying to get everyone’s attention as they were all finally sitting down. “Thanks, thank you.” He started to say before moving to pick up his champagne glass.

“Hey guys, to those of you who don’t know me, I’m Daniel. The best man,” He said, holding the mic up to his lips with his free hand.

“I just wanted to get on here and say a few words about the bride and groom. Maybe a little more the groom then the bride, sorry Y/N.” Daniel saw her give him a little shrug. She didn’t take it personally.

“So yeah, Max. We’ve known each other a long time, since before you first started driving in F1, I think you were like 12?” Daniel joked knowing that Max was 13 the first time they met. “I couldn’t imagine then when we first met that I would be able to be the best man at your wedding to the fox that you just married,” The crowd gave off a few hollers and Daniel could see that Y/N only slightly shook her head at his comment with a light pink flush painting her cheeks. “You were a scrawny awkward looking kid when I met you, and now look at you. Married with a kid. I would be lying if I said there weren’t bets placed today on when there is going to be another one.”

There was a small round of chuckles heard from a few of the drivers in attendance.

“But I digress, mate, you’ve got yourself a good one there.” Daniel further raised his glass. “Y/N, you make Max happy, I just want to let you know that you’ve married into a family that not only loves you but has truly welcomed you with open arms. I hope Max, that you know how lucky you are to have her in your life. Women like her don’t come around every day.”

“To many more years for the two of you, to Mr. and Mrs. Verstappen.” Daniel finished off before everyone took a drink from their glasses.

A few moments later Victoria stood up next to Y/N and started her speech.

“To those of you who don’t know me, I’m not only Y/N’s Maid of Honor but I’m also Max’s little sister. I just wanted to officially welcome Y/N to the family, and let you know how excited I am to have a sister-in-law. I heard a lot about you when you and Max had first started dating. He would always want to talk about you, and when you met Nico it only seemed like he started to talk about you even more. Having said that, Max I love you. But if you screw this up, I get to keep her in the divorce.”

Max let out a big laugh and then reached for Y/N’s hand. She looked at him and he gave her a fake questioning look that said, Something I don’t know about. She just shook her head at him and then Max smiled at Victoria knowing that she was only joking.

“I don’t plan on letting that happen,” He interjected and heard a few chuckles from the rest of the wedding party. Max reached for Y/N’s hand and lightly kissed the back of it.

Victoria let out a laugh, “Regardless, as we’ve gotten to know each other really well over the years. You have truly become like a sister to me, being a sympathetic ear when I need it when it comes to the kids, and always being someone that I can rely on.” Victoria lifted up her glass, “To my brother and sister-in-law.”

Everyone drank from their glasses and Nico and Victoria’s boys drank from the little glasses filled with sparkling apple cider that mimicked the champaign.

Martin had stepped away from the DJ setup with an announcement of the first dance for the bride and groom with Geri taking the mic. Y/N’s eyes widened seeing Geri holding the mic as Max took her hand and led her to the center of the dance floor. Max pulled her into his chest as Geri’s voice filled the room to Ed Sheeran’s Perfect playing as they swayed to the music with him occasionally spinning her.

The song was coming to a slow close when Nico had walked up trying to slip between his parents. Max lifted Nico, dancing with them for a moment. Then set Nico down so he could dance with Y/N for a few moments while he went to dance with Sophie for the next song.

Nico ran off when the song had ended and Christian had walked onto the dance floor. “Do you mind Y/N?”

“Of course not Christian.” She said before he pulled her into his arms.

“I’m sure you’ve heard it plenty of times in the last few days but you’re good for him. Not when it comes to him racing but just for who he is as a person.”

She gave Christian a nod, “He’ll never tell you this, but you’re a second set of parents to him,” She said gesturing to Max who had pulled Sophie onto the dance floor, “and a great grandfather to Nico.”

Christian gave her a nod back and then turned his head to see Daniel standing there.

“Father daughter dance is over. Mind if I cut in?”

“There has been a lot of cutting in.” Y/N said to Daniel.

“You’re in a room full of F1 drivers, it’s going to happen quite a lot.” Y/N rolled her eyes at him and then let Daniel pull her in. Christian walked back to his table and offered his hand up to Geri.

Max had pulled Y/N away from the dancefloor after the fifth driver on the grid had pulled her in to dance with them so that the wedding cake could finally be cut. It was a three tier white cake with the groom in a race suit that was fashioned to look like a tuxedo and the bride standing at his side.

They both managed to interlock their arms taking a bite from the cake, Max’s lips covered in the white ganache frosting and then she lifted the plate to his face and let it smear all over his skin trying to avoid his eyes.

The plate fell away and he had a devious expression on his face and she knew that she was in trouble. He reached for her and pressed a cake covered kiss to her lips before wiping any of the excess cake from their faces.

They left to clean up further and came back to the party with Daniel having the photographer's camera in his hand. He started taking candid photos. Daniel had gotten a picture of most of the wedding party and went looking for Max and Y/N after they had disappeared for a little too long to see them making out by the service entrance to the house and snapped a quick picture before leaving them to their fun.

It was a while later that Max and Y/N rejoined the party long enough to throw the bouquet out into the crowd of young “single” women; Daniel’s longtime girlfriend of two years had caught it and then they made a final round of all the guests before leaving the party. Daniel was the only one whose eyes went to the couple noticing Y/N’s hair fall out of her pin backed look.

“Have a nice time.” Sophie said as Nico stood with his parents holding her hand.

“We will,” Y/N said before Nico reached for her as he pressed his face into the skirt of her dress.

“We’ll be home in two weeks, be good for Oma, okay?” Y/N asked Nico. As they left to get into the car to leave for the hotel for their early morning fight, Nico gave her a nod and hugged Max with a silent goodbye hanging in the air, giving his parents a final wave.

Mini Verstappen taglist: @karmabyfernando, @barcagirly, @sachaa-ff, @iamahallucinationnn, @glow-ish, @nonsensical-nonsence, @fanboyluvr, @champomiel, @gothicwidowsworld, @lighttsoutlewis, @itsalwaysgay, @minkyungseokie, @mynameisangeloflife, @ursforever129, @aundercover, @bborra, @mindless-rock, @cixrosie, @barcelonaloverf1life, @taylorslovesswifties13, @konsti081, @mellowarcadefun, @smnthnclj, @brekkers-whore, @lpab, @thedecalcomania-blog, @xoscar03, @em-gvf01, @haikyuen, @shelbyteller , @geniusalpaca, @princessria127, @mysticalnightenthusiast, @green-thots, @leah-also-known-as-creatoronwp, @ellelabelle, @lilypat, @dreamercrowd

[mrsfancyferrari]

Need Saving

Summary: You are the first woman to be racing in Formula 1 and you and Max are already best friends. To Jos' dismay.

Song: Me and Your Mama by Childish Gambino

Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 Author’s note: CW: sexist comments, domestic violence (not from Max). I'm still salty about Daniel Ricciardo's exit to Formula 1 so I decided to add him a little here. THIS WILL BE A SERIES AND THANK YOU FOR THE 500 FOLLOWERS! Please like, reblog and share this! <3 ALSO IT'S MY BIRTHDAY!

Word count: 10.8k

MASTERLIST - F1

You are making history as the first woman to compete in Formula 1 with the Red Bull team, stepping in for Sergio Perez.

This groundbreaking achievement not only highlights your talent but also paves the way for future generations of female racers in a sport traditionally dominated by men.

Your personality shines through with a warm and friendly demeanor that makes you incredibly approachable. Colleagues and fans alike find you likable, creating an inviting atmosphere wherever you go.

This charm not only endears you to those around you but also helps foster a supportive environment within the competitive world of racing

Some have affectionately dubbed you the "Mini Honey Badger," a nod to the legendary Daniel Ricciardo. This playful comparison reflects your fierce determination and tenacity on the track, qualities that resonate with fans and fellow racers.

Your unique blend of charisma and competitive spirit is sure to leave a lasting impression in the world of Formula 1.

Luckily, you found yourself paired with one of the most talented drivers in the sport, Max Verstappen.

From the very beginning, you and Max clicked effortlessly, perhaps due to your shared sense of humor or the lighthearted way you both approached life outside of racing.

Max, known for his fierce competitiveness on the track, also had a playful side that drew you in. Whether it was sharing funny anecdotes from your childhood or engaging in friendly banter about each other's driving styles, the connection felt natural and invigorating.

You both understood the pressures of the sport, yet you managed to find joy in the little moments, whether it was a shared laugh over a silly meme or a light-hearted debate about the best racing video games.

This bond not only made your time together enjoyable but also fostered a sense of trust and teamwork that would prove invaluable as the season progressed.

During your initial week in Formula 1, the team was treated to a mix of corny jokes and uproarious laughter, creating an atmosphere that was both fun and relaxed.

It was clear that the camaraderie between you two was something special, and it didn’t take long for everyone to notice. The garage, usually filled with the tension of competition, transformed into a space of joy and lightheartedness.

You and Max would often engage in playful challenges, like who could come up with the worst dad joke or who could impersonate the team’s engineers the best.

These moments not only broke the ice but also helped to build a strong team spirit.

The mechanics and engineers, who often worked long hours under pressure, found themselves smiling more often, and the overall morale of the team improved.

It was as if your infectious energy had a ripple effect, reminding everyone that while racing was serious business, it was also about passion, fun, and the love of the sport.

Christian Horner, the team principal, seemed to recognize this chemistry right away.

He confidently remarked to the media about the dynamic of having a girl and a boy on the same team, suggesting that he had a good feeling about the partnership.

His words resonated with the fans and the media alike, sparking conversations about the evolving landscape of motorsport and the importance of diversity within the sport. It was evident that the two of you were destined to make waves together on and off the track.

Christian’s faith in your partnership only fueled your determination to succeed.

You both knew that the expectations were high, but instead of feeling overwhelmed, you embraced the challenge.

"Joseph, can you give me an update on the gap behind?" you inquired, your voice steady as it crackled through the radio to your race engineer.

The sound of your own heartbeat echoed in your ears, a reminder of the high stakes at play.

"You're looking at a 5-second lead over Norris, Y/N," Joseph Duke responded, his tone calm and focused.

As you navigated the track, the adrenaline surged through your veins, heightening your senses.

The smell of burning rubber and the roar of engines filled the air, but your focus remained solely on the asphalt ahead.

Max was currently leading the race, and you were right on his tail, just a heartbeat away from making a decisive move.

With the world championship points on the line, every second counted, and the team’s strategy was crucial.

"Copy that, Joseph. I’m feeling good about this pace. Should I push to overtake Max?" you asked, weighing your options.

The tension in the air was palpable, and you could almost hear the roar of the crowd in your mind, their cheers and gasps fueling your determination.

You could picture the fans waving flags, the excitement building as the race unfolded.

"Remember, he’s leading the championship, so those points are vital for him," Joseph reminded you, his voice steady and measured.

You took a deep breath, considering the risks and rewards of your next move. The thought of overtaking Max was tantalizing, but the consequences of a miscalculation loomed large.

"Understood. But if I don’t make a move soon, he might pull away," you replied, your mind racing through the possibilities.

You could see the track ahead, the curves and straightaways that could either make or break your race.

"Just keep your head in the game, Y/N. Focus on your lines and stay patient. The opportunity will come," Joseph advised, his experience guiding you through the chaos.

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you, reminding yourself that patience was key.

As you approached the next turn, you felt the car respond to your every command, the tires gripping the asphalt with precision.

You could see Max’s car just ahead, a flash of blue and white, and the urge to push harder surged within you.

"Alright, I’ll hold back for now, but I’m ready when the moment strikes," you said, determination lacing your words.

The opportunity to seize the grand prix had slipped through your fingers, leaving you with a bittersweet taste of second place as Max celebrated his victory.

It wasn’t that you felt anger towards him; after all, the stakes were high, and the competition was fierce.

You had performed admirably, even outshining Checo this season, and Red Bull was finally back to their P1-P2 glory.

As you stepped out of your car, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins, you spotted Max waiting for you, his helmet off and a look of concern etched on his face.

He rushed over, his expression serious as he enveloped you in a quick hug. “You don’t hate me, do you?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the unexpected question. Removing your helmet, you met his gaze with a warm smile. “Of course not! But don’t think I’ll go easy on you next week,” you replied playfully, your competitive spirit igniting once more.

Max’s face lit up with a genuine smile, the tension dissipating. “Mate, I won’t go down that easy!” he shot back, his eyes sparkling with the thrill of rivalry.

As you made your way to celebrate with the team, you noticed the difference in how they treated you compared to Max. While he was hoisted into the air, receiving enthusiastic cheers and bone-crushing hugs, you felt a more cautious approach directed your way.

It was a subtle reminder of the gender dynamics at play in the sport. You brushed it off, focusing instead on the camaraderie and the shared passion that brought you all together.

The post-race atmosphere was electric, filled with the sounds of laughter, clinking glasses, and the occasional shout of joy.

You joined in the celebrations, clapping your hands and cheering for your teammates, but a part of you remained introspective.

You replayed the race in your mind, analyzing every corner, every overtaking maneuver, and every missed opportunity.

The thrill of competition was intoxicating, but so was the desire to prove yourself, not just to the team but to the world.

As the evening unfolded, you found yourself lingering at the periphery of the lively celebration, your gaze fixed on Max as he reveled in the spotlight of his victory.

He was the star of the night, the one everyone clamored to congratulate, while you stood in the shadows, merely the second driver.

Christian approached, giving your shoulder a friendly pat, a gesture of appreciation for your support. Yet, it felt insufficient.

You masked your feelings with a bright smile as you watched Max raise his glass, laughter spilling from his lips as the clock inched toward midnight.

“Goodnight, Max,” you called out, aware that your boyfriend, Jake would be less than pleased if you lingered too long.

“Goodnight, best friend! Did I mention you look lovely tonight?” Max replied, his words slightly slurred as he pulled you into a warm embrace.

You felt your cheeks heat up. “No, you didn’t! Thank you, Max. You look great too!” you managed to say, your heart fluttering at the compliment.

As the night wore on, you exchanged goodbyes with the others, the atmosphere buzzing with joy and celebration.

You decided it was time to head home, opting for a taxi since you had indulged in a few drinks earlier.

Once inside the cab, you leaned back against the seat, reflecting on the evening. The laughter, the cheers, and the way Max had shone like a beacon of success.

It was hard not to feel a twinge of envy, but you pushed it aside, reminding yourself of the bond you shared.

The driver navigated through the city streets, and you pulled out your phone, scrolling through the photos from the night.

There was Max, grinning ear to ear, surrounded by friends, and there you were, a supportive figure in the background.

Just as the car turned, your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you glanced down to see a message from Jake.

“Where are you?” he texted, the words appearing on your screen like a gentle reminder of the warmth waiting for you at home.

You smiled, feeling a rush of affection as you typed back, “Just left the party! On my way home now. Can’t wait to see you!”

The taxi weaved through the city streets, and you could almost picture him waiting for you, perhaps pacing a little, his brow furrowed in that adorable way he did when he was worried.

You could hear his voice in your head, teasing you about how you always took too long to say goodbye, but you knew he loved it just as much as you did.

As the taxi pulled up to your building, you felt a flutter of excitement. You paid the driver and hurried inside, your heart racing with anticipation.

As you stepped into the apartment, a heavy scent of alcohol hit you like a wave, and your heart sank.

The cheerful anticipation you had felt moments before evaporated, replaced by a knot of anxiety in your stomach. You knew Jake had been struggling lately, and the telltale signs of his mood were all around you.

Empty bottles cluttered the coffee table, their labels peeling and faded, remnants of nights spent drowning sorrows that seemed to multiply with each passing day.

Taking a deep breath, you cautiously made your way further inside, hoping to find a glimmer of the warmth you once cherished, a flicker of the love that had once filled this space.

“Hey, babe, I’m home!” you called out, trying to inject some cheer into the atmosphere, but your voice felt small and fragile against the oppressive silence that enveloped the room.

The silence that followed was deafening, and you could feel the tension in the air, thick and suffocating.

Just then, he emerged from the shadows of the living room, his eyes glassy and unfocused, as if he were peering through a fog that had settled deep within him.

“Oh, look who decided to show up,” he sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm, each word laced with bitterness. “Did you have fun pretending to be normal out there?”

You felt a chill run down your spine as he continued, hurling insults that cut deeper than you wanted to admit.

It was as if he was trying to push you away, to create a chasm between you that felt insurmountable.

And yet, amidst the hurt, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for the man you loved, the one who was lost beneath layers of pain and anger.

“Why do you always have to do this?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly, the vulnerability in your tone betraying the strength you wished to project. “I just want to help you.”

He scoffed, dismissing your concern with a wave of his hand, the gesture almost theatrical in its disdain. “Help? You mean control. You think you can just waltz in here and fix everything? You’re just like everyone else, trying to tell me what to do.”

The words stung, and you felt the weight of his accusations pressing down on you, each syllable a reminder of the distance that had grown between you.

“I’m not trying to control you,” you replied softly, “I just want to be there for you. Can’t we talk about this?”

But as you looked into his eyes, you realized that the man you once knew was slipping further away, lost in a haze of his own making.

His gaze, once so full of life and passion, now seemed clouded, distant. It was as if he was peering through a murky window, unable or unwilling to see the vibrant world outside.

You could see the shadows of his struggles etched on his face, the lines of worry and anger deepening with each passing day. It pained you to witness this transformation, to see the light in him dimmed by his own fears and insecurities.

“Why can’t you see that I’m trying to help?” you pressed, your heart racing as desperation crept into your voice. “I’m not your enemy. I want to understand what you’re going through.”

You took a tentative step closer, hoping to bridge the gap that felt insurmountable.

But he recoiled slightly, as if your words were a physical blow, and the distance between you felt more pronounced than ever.

“Understand?” he scoffed, his tone laced with bitterness. “You think you can just waltz in and understand? You have no idea what it’s like to feel trapped, to have every choice taken from you. You don’t know the weight of this burden.”

His voice cracked, revealing a flicker of vulnerability beneath the bravado.

As soon as you opened your mouth to speak, Jake brushed by you, grabbing his coat and shoes in one swift motion.

"I'm heading out for a walk. Don't even think about following me," he snapped, his words laced with the sting of alcohol.

You simply nodded, feeling a mix of concern and frustration, but you stayed rooted in place until you heard the door slam shut behind him.

With the sound echoing in the silence, you finally exhaled, the tension in your chest easing just a bit. You glanced around the room, the remnants of the night scattered everywhere—empty bottles and crumpled napkins littered the floor.

"Guess it's cleanup time," you muttered to yourself, bending down to gather the bottles. As you worked, your mind raced with thoughts of him.

Just then, your phone buzzed on the table. It was a message from your best friend, Sarah.

"Hey! How's everything? You okay?"

You sighed, typing back quickly. "Not great. He just stormed out after a fight. I’m cleaning up the mess now."

A moment later, your phone chimed again. "Want me to come over? I can help."

You hesitated, glancing at the door. "No, it’s fine. I just need to sort things out."

"Are you sure? You shouldn’t be alone right now."

You paused, considering her words. "I’ll be okay. I just need to think."

As you continued to tidy up, you replayed the argument in your mind. It had started over something trivial, but the alcohol had turned it into a full-blown fight.

You could hear his voice in your head, the way he had raised his tone, the way he had dismissed your feelings.

"Why does he always do this?" you whispered to yourself, frustration bubbling up again.

You were well aware that he wouldn’t be returning anytime soon.

After tidying up the house, you decided to treat yourself to a long, relaxing bath.

The warm water enveloped you, washing away the day’s worries. Once you felt refreshed, you slipped into your favorite pajamas and crawled into bed, the soft sheets providing a comforting embrace.

He hadn’t always been this way—filled with anger and lost in the depths of alcoholism.

You both had shared a beautiful love story, starting as high school sweethearts. You could still remember the way he used to look at you, his eyes sparkling with affection, mirroring the love you felt for him.

As you lay there, memories flooded your mind. You recalled the laughter, the late-night talks, and the dreams you had built together. But now, those dreams felt like distant echoes, overshadowed by the weight of his struggles.

Maybe it was the pressure of work that was taking a toll on him. You thought back to the last time you had a heart-to-heart.

“Do you remember when we used to talk about our future?” you had asked him one evening, the two of you sitting on the porch, the sun setting in a blaze of colors.

He had sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I remember. It feels like a lifetime ago.”

“Things can get better, you know. We can work through this together,” you had urged, your heart aching for the man you once knew.

He had looked away, his expression clouded. “I don’t know if I can. Sometimes it feels like I’m drowning, and I don’t know how to swim anymore.”

You had reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. “You’re not alone in this. I’m here for you, always.”

But as the days turned into weeks, the distance between you grew. The man you loved was slipping away, replaced by someone you barely recognized.

Now, lying in bed, you couldn’t help but wonder if he would ever find his way back to you. Would he remember the love you once shared? Would he fight against the demons that haunted him?

With a heavy heart, you closed your eyes, hoping that tomorrow would bring a glimmer of hope, a sign that the man you loved was still inside, waiting to break free.

As you settled into bed, the glow of your phone screen illuminated the dark room, revealing a flurry of notifications that had accumulated while you were winding down.

Most of them were filled with excitement, congratulating you on your impressive second-place finish in the race. However, amidst the sea of cheerful messages, one stood out—a private note from Max.

While some comments stung with negativity, suggesting you didn’t belong in the world of Formula 1, Max’s message was a beacon of warmth.

“Thanks for coming to celebrate with me 👍,” it read, and a smile crept across your face, momentarily pushing away the weight of the harsh words.

You felt a mix of emotions swirling within you, and for a moment, tears threatened to spill over. But instead of succumbing to the sadness, you decided to respond to Max.

Your fingers danced over the screen as you typed, “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, you deserved it! 😁” The moment you hit send, a sense of relief washed over you.

It was a reminder that amidst the criticism, there were still those who appreciated your presence and celebrated your achievements.

You could almost hear Max’s laughter echoing in your mind, a sound that always seemed to lift your spirits.

Just as you were about to put your phone down, a new message popped up from Max. “You really made the night special! I’m glad you were there. Let’s catch up soon?”

His words filled you with warmth, and you could picture him grinning with alcohol still in his system, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

“Absolutely! I’d love to,” you replied, feeling a renewed sense of purpose.

After setting your phone aside for the night, you drifted off to sleep, the soft hum of the world outside fading into a distant memory.

When you awoke, you were enveloped in a warm embrace, the kind that felt like home. Instantly, you recognized the familiar presence of Jake, his body radiating warmth against yours.

The scent of alcohol lingered in the air, a reminder of his previous night out with friends, a detail that both amused and concerned you.

A smile crept across your face as you turned to see him, his features relaxed and serene, a stark contrast to the tension that had marked his demeanor the night before.

Curiosity sparked within you, igniting a flurry of questions as you pondered where he had spent his time, what stories he might have to share, and whether the night had been as wild as you imagined.

You felt a rush of affection for him, a desire to know every detail of his adventures, to understand the man who had captured your heart so completely.

Despite the warnings from your friends urging you to reconsider your relationship, your feelings for him remained steadfast, unwavering like a lighthouse in a storm.

They claimed he was a source of trouble, a tempest that could jeopardize your career and stir up scandals that would ripple through your life.

Yet, deep down, you understood him better than they did, seeing the layers of his character that they overlooked. You believed in his integrity, in the goodness that lay beneath the surface, and you knew he wouldn’t intentionally cause chaos in your life.

Their concerns echoed in your mind, but they felt distant, like the sound of waves crashing against a far-off shore.

You were determined to forge your own path, to trust your instincts, and to embrace the love that had blossomed between you, even if it meant standing alone against the tide of skepticism.

Although your relationship was already in the public eye, with whispers and speculation swirling around you like autumn leaves caught in a gust of wind, he had yet to join you in the paddock due to his work commitments.

You felt a mix of anticipation and longing, a bittersweet ache in your chest as you navigated the bustling environment without him by your side.

As you glanced at your phone, the screen illuminated the early morning hour, signaling it was time for your daily jog.

You carefully extricated yourself from Jake's embrace, trying not to disturb his peaceful slumber.

Just as you were about to tiptoe out of the room, you caught a faint mumble escaping his lips, a mix of sleep and concern. “Where are you going?” he murmured, his voice thick with drowsiness.

You paused for a moment, torn between the urge to reassure him and the need to stick to your routine.

“I’m just going for a quick run, love. I’ll be back before you know it,” you replied softly, hoping to ease any lingering worries. His brow furrowed slightly, even in his sleep, as if he sensed your departure was more than just a morning ritual.

“You always run too early… what if someone sees you?” he muttered, a hint of jealousy creeping into his voice, even in his dreams.

With a gentle smile, you leaned down to plant a quick kiss on his forehead. “I’ll be fine, I promise. It’s just me and the open road. You know I love my morning jogs.”

You could feel the tension in the air, a familiar weight that often accompanied your outings. “Okay,” he finally said, though the uncertainty lingered in his tone.

You quickly changed into your jogging attire before stepping out of the house. With a sense of urgency, you slipped into your comfortable workout gear, ready to embrace the fresh air outside.

The fabric of your favorite moisture-wicking shirt clung to your skin, and the soft elastic of your running shorts felt familiar and reassuring.

You laced up your well-worn sneakers, the soles still resilient from countless miles, and took a moment to stretch your legs, feeling the anticipation build within you.

Once dressed, you felt the excitement of the run ahead, eager to hit the pavement and enjoy the rhythm of your feet against the ground.

The world outside beckoned, vibrant and alive, as you opened the door and stepped into the crisp morning air. The scent of dew-kissed grass and blooming flowers filled your lungs, invigorating your spirit.

You took a deep breath, letting the coolness wash over you, and with a quick glance at the sky, you noted the sun just beginning to rise, casting a golden hue across the horizon.

As you began to jog, the familiar cadence of your heartbeat matched the steady thump of your feet on the pavement. Each stride felt liberating, a release from the confines of the day-to-day.

You could feel the tension of the week melting away with every step, replaced by a sense of freedom and clarity.

The rhythmic sound of your breath mingled with the rustle of leaves and the distant chirping of birds, creating a symphony of nature that accompanied you on your journey.

As you were enjoying your morning jog through the park, the rhythmic sound of your feet hitting the pavement was suddenly interrupted by a group of enthusiastic voices.

A cluster of women and girls approached you, their faces lighting up with excitement. "Excuse me! Miss Y/N! Can we get your autograph?" one of them exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with admiration.

You paused, a bit surprised but also flattered, and smiled at the eager crowd. "Of course! I’d be happy to," you replied, pulling out a small notepad from your pocket.

Amid the chatter, a young girl stepped forward, her cheeks flushed with excitement. "I want to start go-karting because I want to be just like you!" she declared, her voice filled with determination.

You could see the passion in her eyes, and it warmed your heart. "That’s amazing! Go-karting is such a fun sport," you encouraged her. "What do you love most about it?"

The girl beamed, her confidence growing as she shared her dreams of racing and the thrill of speed. "I love the idea of being in control and going fast! It looks so cool!"

You nodded, feeling a sense of responsibility to inspire her. "You know, every champion starts somewhere. If you really want to do it, just keep practicing and never give up. Surround yourself with people who support you, and you’ll go far," you advised, hoping to instill a sense of belief in her.

The girl’s eyes widened, and she nodded vigorously. "I will! Thank you so much!"

As the group dispersed, you felt a renewed sense of purpose, realizing that your journey could inspire others to chase their dreams, just as you had. . . .

As the days rolled on, the team decided to spice things up a bit before race week by organizing a fun game called "How Well Do You Know Each Other."

The idea was to not only entertain the fans but also to give everyone a glimpse into the camaraderie between you and Max.

You found yourself standing in front of the camera, a mix of excitement and nerves bubbling inside you, while Max lounged comfortably on the sofa behind you, his headphones snugly in place, unable to listen in.

The staff kicked off the game with a playful tone, "Alright, let’s start with you! The first question about Max is… what is Max's favorite food?" You grinned, confident in your knowledge of your teammate.

"Oh, I know this one! Max is a huge fan of both Italian and Dutch cuisine, while I personally lean more towards Spanish dishes," you replied, your voice filled with enthusiasm.

The crew chuckled, clearly enjoying the banter, and you could see Max nodding in agreement, a smirk on his face even though he didn't know what you said.

After a few more questions, it was time for the roles to reverse. You took a seat on the sofa, and Max stood in front of the camera, a playful glint in his eyes.

The staff asked him the same question, and he leaned forward, a teasing smile forming. "Well, I know my teammate pretty well! She loves her Spanish food, but I think she secretly wishes she could cook like an Italian chef," he joked.

"You better be getting this right, I wanna beat Charles and Carlos' record," you said, feeling the competitive in you to beat Ferrari's record of 18 out of 20 right.

Max only turned around and gave an okay sign since you couldn't hear him, adding a little small wink for the tease but it was caught on camera.

In the end, both you and Max aced all the questions, and the excitement bubbled over as you jumped up and down, your energy infectious. Max stood nearby, a wide grin spreading across his face as he watched your enthusiasm.

"See, everyone! Red Bull is clearly the superior team compared to Ferrari, so make sure to support us this week!" you exclaimed, wrapping up the video with a flourish.

As you turned to Max, you noticed he was still gazing at you, lost in thought. It took you by surprise.

"Max, do you want to add anything to what I just said?" you asked, a playful grin on your face as you nudged his shoulder gently.

Snapping back to reality, Max turned to the camera, a hint of sheepishness in his expression.

"Oh, umm, yeah… Red Bull domination, I guess?" he replied, his voice a mix of uncertainty and enthusiasm.

You couldn't help but burst into laughter at his response, and Max's smile widened, clearly pleased that he could make you laugh.

"Alright, everyone, that's a wrap! We'll catch you all soon. Fingers crossed for another P1-P2 finish, but maybe next time we can switch things up a bit," you said, waving enthusiastically at the camera.

As the camera clicked off, you turned to the crew with a warm smile, expressing your gratitude for their support. You shifted your focus to Max, who was standing nearby, a mix of anticipation and amusement on his face.

"Hey, Max," you began, a playful glint in your eye. "How does it feel to be the most compatible drivers on the grid?"

Max's eyes widened slightly at the phrase "most compatible," and you could see a hint of color rising to his cheeks. But as soon as he processed the word "driver," his expression shifted to one of mild disappointment.

"It feels nice, I guess," he replied, a smirk creeping onto his lips. "Just another thing to brag about to Lando, right?"

You chuckled, knowing how much Max loved to tease his fellow drivers. "Oh, absolutely! I can already picture it—Lando rolling his eyes while you go on about how you and I are the ultimate duo."

Max laughed, shaking his head. "He'll probably come up with some ridiculous comeback, like how he’s the best driver in the world or something."

"Well, he does have a knack for that," you said, leaning against the wall, enjoying the banter. "But let’s be honest, you two are like an old married couple. Always bickering but secretly caring for each other."

Max rolled his eyes dramatically. "Please, I’m not ready for that kind of commitment. I can barely handle my own sleeping schedule!"

Max shrugged, a hint of humility creeping into his demeanor. "But honestly, having you around makes it easier. You bring a different energy to the team."

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words. "Thanks, Max. That means a lot coming from you. I think we balance each other out pretty well."

He nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Yeah, it’s like we have this unspoken understanding. You know when to push me and when to let me breathe. It’s refreshing."

"Exactly! And it’s not just about racing; it’s about the camaraderie we build off the track too. Those late-night strategy sessions and the random moments of laughter—they all add up."

Max chuckled, recalling a particularly ridiculous moment from a previous race weekend. "Remember that time we got lost trying to find the catering tent? We ended up in that random fan zone instead!"

You burst out laughing, the memory flooding back. "Oh my god, yes! And those fans were so excited to see us, they thought we were there for a meet-and-greet! We ended up taking selfies with them for an hour."

"Right? And then we finally found the catering tent, only to discover they were out of your favorite pasta!" Max added, shaking his head in disbelief.

"That was a tragedy," you said, feigning a dramatic sigh. "But it turned into one of the best days. I wouldn’t trade those moments for anything."

Max’s gaze softened as he looked at you, a genuine smile breaking through. "Me neither. It’s those little things that make all the hard work worth it."

You both stood in comfortable silence for a moment, the camaraderie between you palpable. The atmosphere around the paddock buzzed with activity, but in that moment, it felt like you were in your own little world.

"Alright, enough of the mushy stuff," Max said, breaking the moment with a playful nudge. "Let’s get back to business. We’ve got a race to prepare for, and I can’t let you steal all my glory."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Oh, please! You know I’m just here to make you look good. Besides, I wouldn’t dream of overshadowing the reigning champion."

What you two didn't know was that the cameras didn't stop but recorded your little moment, which went viral in the few minutes that it was posted. . . . .

★・・・・・・★ ★・・・・・・★ ★・・・・・・★

★・・・・・・★ ★・・・・・・★ ★・・・・・・★

You knew that the public would start shipping you and Max together sooner or later but you weren't bothered with it.

You had a boyfriend who you cared for deeply, someone who had been your rock through the ups and downs of your racing career. Yet, his reaction to the swirling rumors about you and Max took you by surprise.

You never imagined he would be so affected by the gossip that seemed to spread like wildfire through the paddock and beyond.

Here you were, caught in a web of emotions, torn between the thrill of a new chapter and the loyalty you felt towards your current relationship.

As you stepped through the door of your home, the familiar scent of your shared space enveloped you, but it did little to ease the tension that hung in the air.

You found Jake lounging on the couch, his eyes glued to his phone, the glow of the screen illuminating his furrowed brow. The atmosphere was thick with unspoken words, and you could sense that something was off.

“Hey, babe,” you greeted him, trying to sound cheerful despite the weight on your shoulders. He barely looked up, his fingers scrolling furiously, as if searching for answers in the digital chaos.

“Did you hear about you and Max?” he finally snapped, his voice laced with irritation, cutting through the silence like a knife. “It’s all over social media. Are you really going to let this get to you?”

You felt your heart sink; you had hoped for a different reaction, one that would reassure you that your relationship was strong enough to withstand the storm of rumors.

“Come on, it’s just rumors,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady, though the tremor in it betrayed your inner turmoil. “You know I’m committed to only you.”

You watched as he shot you a skeptical glance, his jealousy bubbling to the surface like a volcano ready to erupt. “Yeah, but how can I trust you when you’re out there with him all the time? It’s not just a coincidence that everyone is talking about it.”

The words stung, and you took a deep breath. "Babe I love only you-"

"Please, don’t even think about it! You know I’m stuck here because if I walked away, your fans would make my life a living nightmare," Jake exclaimed, his voice laced with frustration.

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, leaving you reeling from the harsh reality of your situation.

It was as if he had taken a knife and twisted it, exposing the raw vulnerability you had tried so hard to hide.

You could feel the sting of tears welling up in your eyes, but you fought to keep them at bay. "I didn’t ask for any of this," you replied, your voice trembling slightly.

The weight of his words hung heavily in the air, and you could sense the tension between you growing thicker by the second. It was a battle of emotions, and you were losing ground.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I know it’s not fair, but you have to understand the pressure I’m under. It’s not just about us; it’s about my career, my fans. I can’t let them down."

His eyes softened for a moment, revealing a glimpse of the man you fell in love with.

"But I don’t want to lose you. Can’t we find a way to make this work?" You pleaded.

"I don't know," he muttered, not lifting his eyes from his phone before standing up and walking past you to get his coat and shoes. "i'm gonna take a walk,"

This has been a pattern for weeks now. You would come home, he would start an argument then make up an excuse to leave the house, leaving you to either pick up his mess or go to sleep without your partner. To only wake up with him cuddling you in the morning and apologise for his action last night.

You were getting sick of it but you still love him too much to break up with him. . . .

The days that followed were a blur of introspection and emotional turmoil. Each time you caught a glimpse of Jake’s name on your phone, a knot formed in your stomach.

You had always been the type to see the good in people, to believe that love could conquer all, but the reality of your situation was becoming harder to ignore.

The moments of tenderness were overshadowed by the growing unease that settled in your chest like a heavy stone.

You spent more time with Sarah, who seemed to sense your internal struggle. She filled your days with laughter and distraction, taking you out for coffee, long walks in the park, and movie marathons that kept your mind off the impending decision.

Yet, no matter how much you tried to push it aside, the thought of Jake lingered like a shadow, reminding you of the grip he had on your heart—and not in a way that felt safe or loving.

One evening, as you and Sarah sat on the balcony watching the sunset, the sky painted in hues of orange and pink, she turned to you again.

"Y/N, I know it’s hard, but you have to prioritize your happiness. You can’t keep living in this limbo," she said, her voice steady and unwavering.

You looked out at the horizon, the beauty of the moment contrasting sharply with the turmoil inside you.

"I know," you replied, your voice thick with emotion. "But what if I’m wrong? What if he really can change?"

The fear of making the wrong choice loomed large, a specter that haunted your thoughts.

"Change is possible, but it has to come from him, not from you hoping for it," Sarah said gently. "You can’t be the one to fix him. You’re not responsible for his happiness or his growth. You deserve to be with someone who respects you and makes you feel safe."

Her words struck a chord deep within you. You thought back to the last time he had gripped your arm, the way his eyes had darkened, and how you had brushed it off as a moment of frustration.

But now, in the light of day, you could see it for what it was—a warning sign that you had been too afraid to acknowledge.

That night, as you lay in bed, the silence of your room felt deafening. You replayed every moment of your relationship, the good and the bad, and slowly, the scales began to tip.

The holiday seemed to fly by in the blink of an eye, and soon you found yourself stepping into the paddock alongside Sarah and Jake.

As you walked, you could feel the tension in the air; Jake wore a strained smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, gripping your hand a little too tightly.

“Hey, look at all the fans!” you exclaimed, trying to lighten the mood as you waved enthusiastically at the crowd, signing autographs for those who called out your name.

Sarah, taking a break from her hectic job, had decided to join you, her laughter ringing out like music amidst the bustling atmosphere.

“Isn’t this amazing?” you said, glancing at Sarah, who was snapping pictures with her phone. “I can’t believe how many people came out today!”

She nodded, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “It’s like a mini-celebration! But where’s your boyfriend? He seems a bit off today.”

You shrugged, trying to brush off the concern. “I don’t know, maybe he’s just tired. We haven’t really talked much since we got back.”

You stole a glance at him, who was still smiling, but it felt forced, like he was putting on a show for everyone around.

You made the decision to invite Jake into your driver’s room for a heart-to-heart conversation. As you settled into the familiar space, you turned to him with a gentle concern.

“Hey, are you doing okay?” you asked, your voice soft and inviting.

Jake looked at you, his expression a mix of regret and longing, as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. “I’m alright, really. I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting lately,” he replied, his tone sincere.

In that moment, you felt a rush of warmth; you had missed the comfort of his touch more than you realized.

“Jake, I need to let you know that I have to leave soon,” you murmured, trying to keep the conversation grounded. But he seemed lost in his own thoughts, his gaze intense and filled with desire.

“Why don’t you just quit your job already? I can take care of you, I promise,” he suggested, his voice dripping with temptation.

The idea hung in the air between you, and for a fleeting moment, you felt the pull of his offer.

It was tempting, but the passion you had for Formula 1 was a flame that burned too brightly to extinguish for anyone, even someone as captivating as Jake.

You took a deep breath, weighing your options. “Jake, you know how much this means to me. Formula 1 isn’t just a job; it’s my dream,” you replied, your heart heavy with the conflict.

He stepped back slightly, his expression shifting from desire to disappointment. “I get it, but can’t you see how much I care about you? I want us to be together, and I thought you felt the same way,” he said, frustration creeping into his voice.

You could see the struggle in his eyes, and it pained you to know that your passion for racing was creating a rift between you.

“I do care about you, but I can’t just walk away from everything I’ve worked for,” you insisted, hoping he would understand.

As you stand there, the tension weighs heavily in the air, palpable and thick, as Jake's frustration spills over, his voice tinged with a mix of hurt and desperation.

"But what about me?" he asks, his eyes searching yours for an answer that you know is difficult to provide. "Since you started this job, we haven’t done anything together. All you've been doing is hanging out with that Max boy. Don’t you see it?"

His words cut through the silence, piercing the surface of your mind and forcing you to confront the tangled web of your life that feels all too overwhelming at this moment.

As you gather your thoughts, aware that the job has transformed your priorities and the once-familiar relationship with Jake has shifted, you attempt to articulate your feelings, to bridge the widening chasm of misunderstanding.

"Jake—" you start, your voice tremulous, hoping to weave a delicate thread of connection that can pull you both back to a place of understanding, but he interjects, the intensity of his emotions propelling him forward before you can offer your perspective.

"I’ll show you—don't worry," he mutters, the frustration lacing his tone beginning to dissipate as he suddenly wraps his arms around you, pulling you close in a gesture that is both protective and possessive.

The warmth of his body against yours sends a shiver down your spine, a reminder of the bond you once cherished.

Feeling the urgency of the moment, his lips find yours, a kiss that ignites a flicker of hope amid the turmoil of doubt and fear swirling around you. . . .

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After the holiday break, you had started to act differently, almost as if a shadow had fallen over their usual camaraderie.

Whenever he approached to nudge her shoulder playfully, she would flinch, a look of surprise crossing her face as if she were bracing for something unpleasant.

It was a stark contrast to the easygoing banter they once shared, and he couldn't help but notice how she had become more withdrawn, often lost in her thoughts, her laughter replaced by a distant gaze.

He believed you were feeling down because the team was struggling to achieve the results they had hoped for.

Typically, his father would reach out to him after a disappointing race, sometimes even resorting to physical punishment if the outcome was particularly disheartening.

It was a routine he had come to accept, thinking it was a common experience shared by many.

However, everything changed when his therapist pointed out that not everyone endured such treatment, which sparked a rebellion within him against his father's harsh ways.

"Why do you always have to be so hard on me?" he had shouted one evening, frustration boiling over.

His father, taken aback, responded with a stern look, "Because I want you to be the best, Max. You need to learn that life isn’t always fair."

But Max felt differently; he wanted to be supported, not punished.

As he pondered your situation, he couldn't help but wonder if you had faced similar challenges.

"Do you have someone in your life who treats you badly?" he asked cautiously, trying to gauge your response.

Your eyes widened at the sudden question before you shook your head, a small smile breaking through the clouds of doubt.

"No, not like that. Everyone is really supportive of me these days."

Max felt a wave of relief wash over him, grateful that you had not been in that cycle of abuse he had been so familiar with.

In many of the recent races, both you and Max found yourselves finishing in the P2 to P4 range, or sometimes not making it to the podium at all, which left the team feeling quite disheartened.

The once-promising season had turned into a series of missed opportunities, and the weight of expectations began to take its toll on everyone involved.

The atmosphere in the garage was thick with tension, and the engineers were working overtime to analyze data and strategize for the next race, but the results were still falling short of what the team had hoped for.

This situation also prompted Max's father, Jos, to plan a visit during the race weekend. He intended to check in on his son and perhaps give him a much-needed reality check, quite literally.

As the race day approached, Jos observed his son engaging in cheerful conversation with you, rather than focusing on the engineers to gather crucial insights, a routine Max typically adhered to before a race.

This deviation from his usual pre-race preparation did not sit well with Jos.

He had always believed that the hours leading up to a race were critical for mental conditioning and strategy formulation. To see Max laughing and joking instead of poring over telemetry data or discussing race strategies with the engineers was concerning for him.

Jos's frustration grew as he watched the interaction unfold. He believed that your presence was a distraction, pulling Max away from the intense focus required for peak performance.

In his eyes, the bond you shared with his son was undermining Max's potential to excel on the track.

He felt that friendships weren't important and they should not come at the expense of Max's dedication to his craft.

Jos was determined to address this issue head-on, convinced that a serious conversation was necessary to realign Max's priorities. . . . .

In the midst of a lively discussion filled with laughter and camaraderie, Jos abruptly interjected, "Max, I need to talk to you right now."

His tone cut through the jovial atmosphere, drawing the attention of both you and his son. The laughter faded, replaced by a sudden stillness as everyone turned to witness the unfolding scene.

Max's expression shifted from joy to disappointment as he glanced at you, yet he managed to offer a reassuring smile before reluctantly following his father away from the group.

"Yes, Father?" Max responded in Dutch, his voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of apprehension. The way he spoke suggested a mix of respect and wariness, as if he were bracing himself for a conversation he knew would be anything but easy.

Jos wasted no time in launching into his concerns, his words spilling out with a sense of urgency.

"You must distance yourself from that girl; she is a distraction that will hinder your performance in the race," he asserted, his tone firm and authoritative, as if he were delivering a decree rather than a request.

The weight of his words hung heavily in the air, a stark contrast to the lightheartedness that had just moments ago enveloped the gathering.

Max, however, was quick to defend you, his loyalty evident in the way he stood a little taller, his brow furrowing in determination. "No, she doesn't distract me, Father. She's my teammate," he stated, his voice steady and resolute.

The conviction in his tone reflected a bond that transcended mere friendship; it was a partnership built on shared goals and mutual respect.

Yet, as he spoke, the tension between father and son thickened, a palpable clash of wills that seemed to reverberate through the quiet space around them.

Jos, sensing the resistance in Max's voice, shifted his approach, employing subtle manipulation to sway his son’s perspective.

"Think about your future, Max. You have so much potential, and I only want what is best for you," he continued, his voice softening slightly, as if trying to appeal to Max's aspirations.

The words were carefully chosen, designed to instill doubt about your influence, to paint you as an obstacle rather than an ally.

Max hesitated, caught between his father's expectations and his own feelings.

The internal struggle was evident on his face, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features as he grappled with the conflicting loyalties that tugged at his heart.

"It is evident in your results over the weeks, you've been falling off the high scores recently, hardly been able to reach third place because of that girl!" Jos stressed out and Max became quiet, letting those words sink in.

"Max, think about it," Jos continued, his tone shifting to one of persuasion. "You need to focus on your game and not let distractions get in the way. She's not worth it."

Max felt a mix of emotions swirling inside him. He had always admired his father's wisdom, but now he sensed a subtle manipulation at play. Jos was trying to steer him away from his feelings, and deep down, Max knew it.

Yet, the idea of disappointing his father loomed larger than his own desires.

"Okay, Father," Max finally replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

He felt a pang of regret as he agreed, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he was losing a part of himself in the process. As he walked away, he contemplated the choices ahead of him.

Was it worth sacrificing his happiness for the sake of competition?

As he walked away, the sound of his father's footsteps fading behind him, he contemplated the choices ahead of him.

The internal struggle was just beginning, and Max knew he had to find a way to balance his passion for the game with the complexities of his heart.

He thought of you—the woman who had sparked something within him, a light that had ignited a warmth he hadn't been able to feel like Daniel left.

After he began to distance himself from you, he noticed a change in your demeanor.

You seemed more withdrawn, putting on a facade of happiness with a constant smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. You were hiding behind long-sleeved coats, even in the warm weather, creating a barrier between yourself and the world around you.

The vibrant laughter that once filled the air when you were together had been replaced by a silence that hung heavily between you, punctuated only by the occasional forced chuckle or polite nod.

Max could see the way your shoulders slumped slightly, as if the weight of unspoken words and unshared feelings was pressing down on you.

Your eyes, once bright with enthusiasm and mischief, now seemed clouded, reflecting a deep-seated sadness that you tried so hard to conceal.

He remembered the long pointless conversations, the dreams you both had shared, and the plans that now felt like distant memories. It pained him to witness your struggle, yet he felt powerless to bridge the growing chasm between you.

Despite the guilt that gnawed at him, Max couldn’t help but recognize a shift in his own performance on the racetrack.

He found himself consistently finishing on the podium, a stark contrast to your struggles as you remained trapped within the top ten.

Each trophy he lifted felt heavier than the last, a reminder of the friendship that had once fueled his passion for racing.

He could hear the cheers of the crowd, feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins, but all he could think about was how you used to be there, celebrating alongside him, your face alight with pride and joy.

While he celebrated his achievements, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something important was missing.

The camaraderie they once shared seemed to slip further away with each passing race, leaving him to wonder if the price of success was worth the cost of their connection.

He often found himself glancing over at the empty spot in the pit where you used to stand, your eyes sparkling with encouragement, your voice ringing out with advice that had always kept him grounded.

As the races continued, Max felt a growing urgency to reach out, to break through the walls you had built around yourself.

But his father kept him grounded and not letting that thought come to life anytime soon. . . .

As you maneuver through the winding turns of the racetrack, adrenaline surges through your veins, a heady blend of focus and exhilaration.

"Joseph, what's the gap to Max?" you inquire, your voice steady despite the chaos enveloping you as you glance at the rearview mirror, noticing Charles's fierce pursuit as he falls into your peripheral vision, momentarily eclipsed by your recent strategic overtaking maneuver.

"2.3 seconds in front of you, Y/N," Joseph replies, his tone equally crisp yet slightly strained, hinting at the intensity of the moment.

The hum of the engine, the vibrations of the car, and the distant roar of the crowd blend into a symphony of speed, and as you negotiate the track, your mind sharpens with determination.

You consider your next move with meticulous care, knowing that a split-second decision could alter the course of the race.

Holding tightly to the steering wheel, you then ask, “Do I have permission to take over?”

Pause hangs in the air like a fragile breath, and you can almost anticipate Joseph's reply, especially given the longstanding tradition wherein hesitance often blankets these life-altering decisions.

Sure enough, after a fleeting silence, you prepare for the inevitable response that would echo in your ears like an unwelcome refrain, one you were all too familiar with.

But just as you brace yourself for a “no,” the radio crackles to life again—this time with a tidal wave of unexpected urgency.

"Yes! Y/N? Can you hear me? The team has approved the overtake of Max! Go for it!" Joseph’s voice bursts through with a burst of energy, jolting you from your reverie.

Instinctively, your foot plunges onto the accelerator as you channel every ounce of skill, focus, and ambition into propelling yourself forward.

You swiftly navigate the corner, your car gliding through the air like a bird released from captivity, and in that moment of pure adrenaline, you find yourself eclipsing Max, reclaiming the lead with undeniable ferocity.

As you settle into your newfound position at first place, the tension morphs into an exhilarating electrification coursing through your body.

Max, having momentarily lost his grip on the lead, now battles to fend off Charles and Lando from making any hazardous moves that might threaten your dominion at the front.

In the heat of the moment, the radio blaring with strategic updates fades into the background as your vision narrows solely on the track ahead—you are a race car driver, a gladiator in this battle of speed, and nothing else matters.

The world dissolves into monochrome, your focus unwavering as you grip the wheel like it’s a lifeline.

Distant cheers from the crowd seep through your concentration, yet you silence those voices, drowning out distractions as you become acutely aware of the weight of the race, the dreams that hang delicately in the balance—everything is at stake.

You feel sweat trickling down your temple and a syrupy mix of anticipation and fear soaring through your chest, but as you approach the final laps, triumph struggles to emerge from the depths of your hardwork.

Amidst the exhilarating distractions, your attention sharpens when you catch a faint echo of Joseph’s voice cutting through the chatter. "Y/N! You did it! You won!"

The joyous eruption on the other end floods your senses with disbelief, a tidal wave of emotions crashing over you.

In that electrifying moment, as you maintain your grip on the wheel for the last few seconds, reality begins to wash over you like an exhilarating wave, and the tears you could feel brewing now threaten to spill, your triumph intertwining with your vulnerability.

With the checkered flag waving triumphantly in the air, you ease down on the accelerator, the sensation of victory swelling inside you as you let a muffled cry of delight escape your lips.

You slow your car and finally breathe, releasing all the pent-up energy, as the realization of your success resonates in every fiber of your being.

"You did it, Y/N! You won the grand prix!" Joseph's voice dances through the radio, resonating with an infectious glee.

A burst of laughter escapes your lips, and for the first time, the roar of the crowd—a melodic blend of cheers—warms your heart.

As you roll to a stop, the world around you crescendos into a celebration of your harrowing journey—each twist, each turn, each heartbeat racing in sync with the rhythm of victory.

The moment is surreal, and as you step out of the car, you are not just a racer anymore; you are a triumphant force that turned dreams into reality, and no title could encapsulate the pride swelling within you.

You parked the car in front of the first-place stand, your heart racing as the adrenaline coursed through your veins. Stepping out of the vehicle, you took a moment to absorb the victory that had just unfolded; it was surreal, almost like a scene plucked from your wildest dreams.

You stood on the hood of your car, exhilaration bubbling up inside you as you raised your fists in triumph, thrusting them into the air with a euphoric fist bump that echoed your unrestrained joy.

The cheers of the crowd swirled around you, a chorus of celebration, and for a heartbeat, the entire world felt like it paused in honour of your hard-fought achievement.

The weight of every early morning, every late night, every moment spent honing your driving in the shadows now seemed beautifully light, overshadowed by the sheer thrill of the moment.

As you jumped off the car with a renewed sense of vitality, you sprinted toward your team, their faces lit up with genuine happiness.

It marked a pivotal moment, one where they no longer treated you as fragile or merely a woman in a male-dominated sport; instead, they embraced you like a teammate, a winner.

You felt the warmth of their hugs wrapping around you, their joy infectious in a way that washed away any lingering doubts you had ever held about your place in this fierce and demanding environment.

“I can’t believe we did it!” you exclaimed, looking around at their beaming faces, heart swelling.

Some laughing tears glistening in their eyes, as they crowded around you, lifting you momentarily off your feet, celebrating not only your victory but the growth of a team bound together by perseverance and shared dreams.

Max eventually pulled up in front of the second-place station, his car’s engine rumbling to a soft stop just a few feet away from you. He stepped out, the sunlight catching the edges of his helmet as he removed it, revealing a look of pure delight plastered across his face.

It was a sight that brightened your heart; his genuine smile mirrored your own, a silent acknowledgment of the fierce competition that had just transpired on the track.

You could hardly control the emotions that swelled within you. With an impulsive rush, you charged toward him, unable to contain the joy of your victory.

In a flurry of excitement, you leaped into his arms, a spontaneous act born from the adrenaline still dancing through your body. He caught you effortlessly, his hands cradling your back protectively, and in that moment, the world shrank down to just the two of you.

“I won!" you declared, breathless, your voice a mixture of disbelief and sheer happiness, as if saying it out loud might make the victory feel more real.

A grin split Max's face wider, and you could see the pride sparkling in his eyes. “Yeah, you won! Congratulations!" he echoed, his voice turning melodic with the thrill of your accomplishment.

His embrace tightened around you, and you melted into the moment, filled with a sense of camaraderie and respect that had blossomed between you two over the course of your racing journeys.

As he set you back on your feet, laughter bubbled up once again, infectious and wildly free.

"I hope I didn't catch you off guard with that leap," you admitted, a hint of embarrassment creeping into your voice as you took a sip from your drink.

"Not at all! I’m just thrilled for you," Max replied, his cheeks flushed with excitement as he gave you a friendly pat on the back.

After the interview with the top three winners, you, Max, and Charles settled into the conference room, the atmosphere buzzing with excitement as the race replay flickered on the screen. The tension was palpable as the footage captured the thrilling moments of the competition.

"Wow! That was such a turn!" Charles exclaimed, wiping the sweat from his brow, clearly still feeling the adrenaline from the race.

He was referring to the intense maneuver where he nearly overtook Lando, a moment that had everyone on the edge of their seats.

As the race continued to unfold on the screen, you found yourself lost in thought, your mind racing with the events that had just transpired.

You focused on your breathing, trying to calm the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. You had actually won.

Max, sitting beside you, noticed your silence and turned his attention toward you, his eyes filled with concern.

"Hey, are you alright?" he asked softly, breaking the tension in the room. His voice was steady, a comforting presence amidst the chaos of the race replay.

You nodded slowly, appreciating Max's concern but still feeling the weight of the moment. "Yeah, just processing everything," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

After the conference wrapped up, the divers were given the freedom to either retreat to their driver’s rooms or celebrate with their teams and families.

However, the atmosphere was tinged with concern. The race winner was notably absent, and everyone had been eagerly anticipating a celebration for your first victory.

But after you dashed out of the conference room in a flurry, you seemed to vanish without a trace.

Everyone, especially Max, who had reached out to congratulate you repeatedly, was waiting, eager for you to join them in the festivities.

Max had noticed your absence almost immediately after the conference ended. The smile that had danced on his lips dimmed when you didn't join the team to celebrate; he frequently glanced toward the driver’s room, a sense of unease gnawing at his gut.

The more he thought about it, the more his concern deepened; it wasn't like you to shy away from such moments of triumph.

As teammates and family began to cheer and revel in the evening's wins, Max made the decision to search for you.

His quest took him to the paddock and then to your garage, but each passing minute only heightened his worries. "Where could you be, Y/N?" he murmured to himself, frustration lacing his voice as he traversed the familiar paths of the circuit, searching desperately for a glimpse of you.

His heart raced with anxiety; he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.

Finally, his gaze landed on the door of your driver's room, slightly ajar, like a whisper beckoning him to enter. Without a second thought, he approached and knocked gently, "Y/N, are you in there?"

Listening intently, he leaned closer to the door and was met with faint whimpers that sent a chill down his spine.

Panic surged through him.

This wasn’t just a moment of celebration for you; it felt like a cry for help, echoing through the cold corridor.

Without waiting for a response, he pushed the door open wider, bracing himself for whatever he might find—though nothing could have prepared him for the sight that met his eyes when the door creaked open.

The scene unfolded before him like a nightmare; your so-called boyfriend stood menacingly above you, his hand raised as if poised to strike, while your frail form displayed clear signs of distress—your face bruised, tears streaming down your cheeks, eyes wide with a mixture of fear and disbelief.

Time seemed to freeze for a moment as he took stock of the situation, the cruel contrast of celebration outside and the terrifying reality inside your room.

"What the hell is going on here?" Max's voice cut through the air, laced with fury as he stepped into the room, instinctively placing himself between you and the looming threat.

In that instant, your boyfriend's grip on your collar slackened, surprise washing over his features as he turned to face Max.

“Stay out of this, Max! This has nothing to do with you,” your boyfriend snarled, his bravado faltering under the sudden scrutiny.

But Max remained steadfast, stepping closer, his presence commanding as he glared at the man who had dared to raise a hand against you.

“You’re wrong. It has everything to do with me. Y/N is my friend, and I won’t let you hurt her,” he replied, his voice steady yet filled with palpable tension.

Your eyes met Max's, a flicker of hope igniting amidst despair, and despite everything, the warmth of that friendship washed over you.

Max's voice echoed through the room, a mix of frustration and urgency. "You need to leave now!" he shouted, his eyes locked onto your boyfriend, who stood there with clenched fists and a scowl that could cut glass.

The tension in the air was palpable, thick enough to slice through. Your boyfriend hesitated, his anger simmering just beneath the surface, but something in Max's tone made him reconsider.

"Fine," he finally muttered, his voice low and filled with resentment. "I’ll go, but this isn’t over."

With that, he stormed out, slamming the door behind him, leaving you and Max in a heavy silence.

“Max, please…” you managed to choke out, your voice hoarse as the fear and pain slowly ebbed. “I just…I just wanted to celebrate, but I didn’t know who I could trust. I thought…”

Your voice faltered as the tears resumed their steady flow. Max's gaze softened as he turned back to you, the protective barrier he had formed in front of you embodying more than just physical defense.

“You can trust me, Y/N,” he said firmly, his expression shifting to one of concern.

With Max's unwavering support behind you, the resolve within you began to build.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice trembling, but a hint of strength colored your tone.

[giuseppe-yuki]

who is that?

max verstappen x ragdoll cat shapeshifter!reader

w.c.: 1.9k

warnings: suggestive content, curse words, jealous!max

part of my shapeshifting!reader series

summary: who is that cat that max is playing with in the rb garage that is not you?

picture credits from pinterest :)

sitting on an elevated ball cat bed that was custom designed with max’s emblem on the side, it wasn’t hard to see that you were a little spoiled. hell, you even had your own minifridge stocked with fresh fish, veggies, fruit, and meat that max specifically ordered for you. at first, you had advocated against having your little corner of the red bull garage, not wanting to take up too much space, but max had convinced not only you but also christian to build the little cat corner, because who could ever say no to a three-time world champion? 

now, you were sitting daintily on the soft cushion of the bed, watching max finish the last of his fp1 laps. to no one’s surprise, he had the quickest time, being faster than charles by a third of a second. 

feeling a bit hungry, you let out a few mewls, sending a few of the engineers scurrying your way. ha, you thought. i have them wrapped around my finger. 

“you hungry, little kitty?” one of the engineer asks, petting your head. 

you blink your signature blue ragdoll cat eyes at her.

immediately, she jumps up, and strolls to your mini fridge. gingerly, she takes out some pre-prepared raw chicken out of the refrigerator, along with a couple of strawberries. after cutting up both items into small enough pieces with scissors stored on the side of the fridge, she sets the food in a small bowl in front of your cat bed. 

you jump off your elevated bed and walk a few laps around the engineer’s legs, rubbing your fur against her legs in a show of appreciation. the other engineers all coo in adoration, tilting their heads and smiling at you. you approach the bowl on the ground and gobble down the chicken and strawberries, quick. 

deciding you want pets now, you hop into another engineer’s lap and purr, which evokes him to start scratching your chin. but before he could give you any more pets, max pulls into the garage along with checo, signaling to you that fp1 was over. the engineer sets you back on the ground to start assessing the rb20 with everyone else. 

to your left, hannah schimtz strolls in from the pitlane, one hand clutching her headpiece and another holding a clipboard. you pad over to her through the chaos of the garage and jump onto her leg. she chuckles before setting down her things on a counter and picking you up. she gives you a few pats on the head, earning her a meow of happiness from you. gianpiero lambiase appears out of nowhere next to hannah, but you don’t mind as he starts stroking your fur. you nuzzle into hannah’s team kit in gratitude. 

when you lift your head and look across the room, you see your boyfriend has already gotten out of his car and standing next to checo. checo is animatedly talking with his hands, occasionally gesturing towards his car, but max is not looking at him. he stares directly at you in hannah’s arms, cool blue eyes staring you down. its filled with a familiar fondness, but it is also tinted with an emotion you don’t see often- jealousy. 

he turns and walks towards you, leaving checo looking at his retreating figure with a confused look on his face. (poor checo, you think.) 

“i’m going to hold my cat now,” he says pointedly to hannah, emphasizing the “my”. he snatches you out of hannah’s arms and holds you gently to his chest. you think you can hear his heartbeat through his sweaty fireproofs. 

turning on his heel, he yanks the driver radio earbuds out of his ear, one-handedly throws it on the counter behind his car, grabs you tight, and bolts out of the garage towards his driver room. 

“don’t you think that was a little much back there, maxie?” you question, lifting your head off his chest and peering at him. 

“umm, no, not really,” your boyfriend says. he squeezes you closer to him on the bed in his driver’s room, tangling your legs together.

you thread your fingers into max’s, using your other hand to fiddle with his fan-made mv1 bead bracelets and trace the patterns on his silver cartier bracelet. “if i may,” you start, lips close to the shell of his ear, “i would say…you were a little jealous back there- snatching me out of hannah’s arms. i just wanted a few pets, that’s all.” 

he pouts, scrunching his nose. he pulls himself away from you and adjusts himself on the bed, laying on his side and propping one hand on the side of his head. you can see the dark spots on his pillow where his head was, leftover droplets of water from getting out of the shower. he adjusts the simple black shirt that he pulled from his drawers a few minutes ago, and blinks at you innocently. 

“no i wasn’t,” he defends himself. “i just simply wanted to hold my pretty girlfriend after racing hard on the track after fp1.” 

you roll your eyes. “sure baby,” you giggle. he was such a lousy liar. it was kind of cute seeing him jealous though. you lean closer to him, laser focused on his soft lips. “just know that you’re the only person that can do this-” 

before you can put your glossy lips on his, max’s phone starts to buzz. 

he curses, pulling out his phone. “who the fuck is calling me?” 

the caller id lights up, showing the words ‘christian horner’ in blaring white letters. 

he scrambles off the bed, and turns to you. “i’m sorry, i have to take this,” he says apologetically. “i will be back, though.” he gives you a wink before walking out of the room.

lying on the bed by yourself, fix your hair a bit before pausing. “no way christian fucking horner just cockblocked me!” you say aloud, giggling to yourself.

two hours before fp2 starts, you find yourself in the paddock bathroom. you smooth down your hair, reapply your makeup, and start smothering lipgloss on your lips when you hear a voice behind you. 

“hey there, you’re max’s girlfriend, right?” a girl in a pretty patterned tube top and jeans smiles at you, tilting her head in question. 

“oh, yes, that’s me!” you respond, smiling back at her. before she can respond, you reach your hand out, and pluck a white feather off the back of her top. “you had a feather stuck on the back of your top by the way,” you explain to her, tossing it in the trash can next to the sinks. 

“haha thanks, i have no idea how that got there!” she says, scratching her head. she then reaches out her hand. “i’m oscar’s girlfriend by the way. nice to meet you!”

you strike up a conversation while she touches up her own makeup, even exchanging numbers. 

she was in the middle of explaining a funny story how she apparently “stole water” from the red bull motorhome when she pauses and points to a spot near your shoulder. 

“there’s like a pretty big bruise on your shoulderblade!” she says concerningly. “is everything alright?” 

you look at yourself in the mirror, and sure enough is a bruise, small enough to not be seen from far away, but too big to cover up unnoticeably. god, you were gonna kill max on sight. 

you struggle to come up with an appropriate excuse to tell oscar’s girlfriend. “i- um was kind of clumsy and bumped into a shelf in max’s driver’s room, and like- a giant vase art piece thingy fell on me!” 

she gasps in shock, “omg, what? i hope you’re okay now!”

you nod your head quickly. “yeah, i’m totally fine,” you say. “the vase didn’t even hurt that much.” 

after covering the hickey bruise with at least a half a gallon of concealer, you hurry over to the red bull garage. max must be a little worried, considering you were gone a little longer than expected because you were talking to oscar’s girlfriend. to your surprise, max is sitting on one of the data analyst’s chair, dangling a toy fish on a string over the head of a ragdoll cat. the cat bats at it, meowing.

“what the actual fuck are you doing? and who is that?” you burst out, marching over to max. this better be a prank, you think to yourself.

to your surprise, there is not a hint of held-back laughter on max’s face- only shock. “wait what?” he says, stunned. “if you’re here..then who is…?” he trails off. the cat sits on the ground between you both, blinking its blue eyes innocently. 

GP walks up to you and max, not noticing both of your shocked faces. he bends down and picks up the cat, cooing. “i know one of the engineers fed her earlier, but you don’t mind if i feed this one a bit of fish do you?” he doesn’t wait for an answer before stalking off to the fridge with the cat. 

you turn to max, eyes blazing. 

“i swear! i thought that was you!” he whispers to you frantically.

by the time fp2 was over, you were already back in max’s driver room. the door busts open, and in runs a sweaty max. he starts rambling (or should i say maxplaining?) the second the door is open- “omg, baby where is the cat? after fp2, i talked to gp and he said that you left with ten minutes left in fp2 with the cat? please please please tell me you did not kill the cat, i swear i did not know that it was not you! it was a random stray cat that somehow found its way into the paddock! i won’t even touch another cat ever again please?” 

he turns the corner of his driver’s room to find you in your cat form snuggling on the bed with a sleeping ragdoll cat. you turn to blink your glittering blue eyes at him while keeping a paw protectively around the other cat. 

your boyfriend sits down on the couch, relief oozing out of him. he gives both of you some head scratches. “i really thought you took the cat and killed it or something,” he exclaims. he then heads to the mini cooler next to his rack of race suits and pops open a can of red bull. when he turns back around, you are now sat next to the cat, running your hands over its soft fur.

“you really think i would do that, maxie?” you say, raising an eyebrow. 

he goes back into panic mode, trying to defend himself. “no, no, no, i just meant-”

you cut him off, laughing. “relax, baby, i’m just messing with you. besides, i think we have a new member in our family now! what should we name him?” 

max sighs with relief, and comes to sit next to you on the bed. he says the first name that pops into his mind. “how about we name him jimmy?” 

you raise your eyebrow for the second time. “jimmy?” you say incredulously. “you want to name the cat jimmy?”

“okay, okay,” he says, holding his hands up. “how about…sassy? that cat was really sassy with me when i found it in the garage! that’s why i thought it was you!” 

“what is that supposed to mean?” you say bewilderedly. 

before max can answer, the cat yawns loudly in your lap and nuzzles close to you.

“you know,” you remark, changing the subject,  “i’m honestly really glad you found this little kitty.” you lean over and give max a peck on the lips, tasting a hint of red bull. 

an idea hits you. “hey, why don’t we name him redbull?”

taglist: @ilivbullyingjeongin @ale-522 @formula1-motogpfan @aceyalonso @my0hmary @mbappebby @madkohi @ralshatos

[pucksandpower]

I have so many thoughts on why this is a horrible idea and not enough words to properly describe it.

The age regulations were put into place for a reason — just because Toto Wolff is obsessed with finding the next Max Verstappen does not mean that Kimi Antonelli should be granted an exception that will only serve to rush his development.

The fact of the matter is that only Max Verstappen is Max Verstappen … forcing Kimi into a struggling Williams team with barely any time in Formula 2 under his belt after completely skipping Formula 3 will only serve to hurt him.

Kimi Antonelli deserves time to develop. He deserves time to at least finish a feeder series season before being thrown straight from the frying pan into the fire. There are very few cases in which rushing young athletes does not ultimately cause more harm than good.

On the other side of the coin, dropping Logan Sargeant (and doing so in the middle of the season) has the potential to massively hurt Williams from a business standpoint. They are finally in a trajectory to recover financially after years of struggle thanks in large part to the many American sponsors who ended up signing thanks to — you guessed it — them having an American driver in Logan Sargeant. This comes at a time when Williams has already taken numerous hits to its image throughout the earlier races of the season. Considering Formula 1 is just as much about business as it is about what actually happens on the track, I would be concerned about the repercussions that such a move could have.

Now, on to Logan Sargeant himself. It is no secret that he is far from the best driver on the grid, but improving performance requires support from your team, something that has unfortunately been quite spotty to start the season despite the pretty words James Vowles often spins. Logan has been given the short end of the stick race after race after race at a crucial time for his development, the opposite of what any driver that has to prove themselves needs at such a point in their career.

Last, but certainly not least, James Vowles famously said that he is not looking to turn Williams into a “mini-Mercedes” … but is that not exactly what dropping a driver from Williams’ own development program in favor of doing Toto Wolff’s bidding would mean for the team? Williams has no hope of moving away from being viewed as Mercedes’ B-team if their actions directly counteract these words.

I’m sure there is so much more I should say about this, but I hope I managed to adequately explain why I think Williams dropping Logan Sargeant in favor of Kimi Antonelli in the middle of the season has a lot of potential to backfire for all involved.

[starkwlkr]

f1 masterlist ✨

— here are all my f1 related works, thanks for reading!

platonic (all drivers)

annoying little brothers

bitch, I’m a mother!

mother (no, literally)

just a girl

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through the decades

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love hurts

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breakup with your boyfriend

off to the races

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god is a woman

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she tells me shut up and i do

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little lies

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[diqldrunks]

f1 masterlist!!

requests are open!! [nav | inbox]

max verstappen

snap out of it — rivals to lovers series

oscar piastri

on air — interviewer!reader series

lando norris

you could start a cult

free fallin’ — fake dating series

charles leclerc

peer pressure — friends to lovers mini series

carlos sainz

bad idea, right?

lewis hamilton

george russell

esteban ocon

pierre gasly

lance stroll

fernando alonso

alex albon

franco colapinto

daniel riccardo

logan sergeant

mark webber

jenson button

sebastain vettel

kimi räikkönen

[onlyangel4]

potterhead. mv1. smau. part two.

max verstappen x girlfriend!reader

max's girlfriend is the biggest harry potter fan ever.

author's note: this will be a mini series of fluffy moments between this couple. i'm aiming for around 3-5 parts

faceclaim: haley lu richardson

part one

y/ninsta posted a story

written; london here we come

f1updates

liked by user6, user7, user8 and 34,182 others

f1updates: y/n and max have landed in london two days before the other drivers are scheduled to land. we wonder what they are going to be up to.

view all 1,211 comments

user6: it is strange because we expect the british drivers to be early, not these two

user7: whatever it is i just know these two are going to have the best fucking time

user8: i wonder...

wbtourlondon posted a story tagging y/ninsta and maxverstappen

written: today we are joined by two v.i.w (very important wizards)

maxverstappen posted a story

written: y/n has been crying since we got here

y/ninsta posted a story

written: so it turns out dreams do come true

y/ninsta posted a story

written: thank you for the best day ever

y/ninsta posted a story tagging maxverstappen

written: this might be my favourite picture of us

y/ninsta posted a story

written: day two in london and max surprised me with this what the actual fuck

maxverstappen posted a story tagging y/ninsta

written: help she's crying again

y/ninsta

liked by maxverstappen, lilymhe, alexandrasaintmleux and 582,199 others

tagged: maxverstappen

y/ninsta: when i was younger i always had my head in a book, i found fictional worlds easier than the real ones. harry potter was the first book that i really fell in love with. i will always call it my first love. but at the time the people in my life told me that i needed to focus on the real world, that no man would ever want a girlfriend obsessed with a fantasy world. well max just surprised me with the best two days ever and i am incredibly grateful for him, i love you so much.

view all 8,271 comments

maxverstappen: do you love me more than luna lovegood

y/ninsta: know your place

alexandrasaintmleux: next year's miami grand prix me + you = universial studios florida

y/ninsta: omg the best wag date ever

user9: i actually love how max supports her hobbies they may be different to his but he doesn't care. that is husband material.

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[the-offside-rule]

Drivers while their s/o studies

Just a mini series I felt like doing. : )

Charles Leclerc

Charles smiled as he entered the room, holding a tray with snacks and coffee for Y/n who had been sitting at her desk since that morning. "Hello mom cœur, I thought you might need a little pick-me-up while you work." He said, placing the tray on the table. Y/n looked up from her laptop, a grateful smile forming. "Oh what would I do without you?" She said as she held his face and peppered soft kisses onto it as he emptied the tray onto the desk. "Cry, maybe." He joked.

Charles sat down beside her and began eating a protein bar before Y/n continued on typing. "How's it going anyway?" he asked, genuinely interested. "It's a bit overwhelming, but I'll manage. Your snacks will definitely help." She replied, taking a sip of the coffee. Charles chuckled. "I believe in you. I'll leave you to it for a bit, though. I'm going to meet Lorenzo and Arthur in the gym. You know how it is."

Y/n nodde. "Yeah, go ahead. I'll be here when you get back." He gave her a quick kiss on the forehead before heading out. "Take breaks, okay? Don't overwork yourself." He reminded her. "Of course, love. Have fun and give them my best!" As he left, Y/n couldn't help but smile. The small gestures made studying a lot more enjoyable, and she felt lucky to have Charles by her side.

Max Verstappen

Max woke up to an empty bed, the confusion evident on his face. Rubbing his eyes, he ventured into the living room, where he found Y/n engrossed in her laptop. Y/n spotted him from the corner of her eye and smiled at his sleepy face. "Morning, sleepyhead. Slept well?" She teased, looking up from her work. Max chuckled, and walked over to her. "Yeah, until I realized I was all alone." He placed a kiss atop of her head and peered over her shoulder. "What are you up to?"

"Got an assignment to finish, but you can keep me company." She suggested with a smile. Max raised an eyebrow. "Company? I was expecting a romantic morning, not a work session." Y/n laughed, "Well, I can't help it. University." He rolled his eyes. "I told you, you should have just gave in to being a stay-at-home girlfriend and now here we are with you leaving me I'm bed to work." Y/n chuckled at the light hearted joke. "Well if you loved me you would sit right here with me and keep me company, like a good temporary stay-at-home boyfriend?" Undeterred, Max decided to make the best of the situation. "Fine, but how about some breakfast first? I'll cook."

As Max prepared breakfast, they bantered back and forth, the kitchen filled with laughter. Sitting down on the sofa with their plates, Max linked his phone to the TV and began watching his race upcoming debrief that Red Bull had sent him. Y/n glanced at the screen every so often, finding it unbelievably distracting and whilst he had to watch it for work, why couldn't he just watch it on his phone?"Mind turning that off? I need to focus." Max pouted playfully. "Aw, come on. It's just background noise." She shook her head, "No, it's distracting. I need to concentrate."

A minor disagreement ensued, but Max, ever the compromiser, reached a resolution. "Fine, wear these," he said, handing her a pair of headphones. "You study, I watch my debrief." Y/n huffed, taking the headphones, "Deal. Just don't complain if I fail my exam because of this." Max grinned. "Deal, as long as you promise we actually so something romantic later on." Y/n grinned and connected her headphones to the laptop and began playing her music.

Lando Norris

Lando was deep into his online stream, enthusiastically commentating on his latest race in the virtual world. Meanwhile, Y/n diligently studied in the living room, trying to concentrate despite the growing noise. At first, it was fine because he only had Max on a voice call and then they started playing the F1 games and inviting drivers, and it all went to chaos.

The usual loudness was just about starting to sound normal until she heard a loud screeching from the streaming room. Y/n finally reached her limit. She threw her laptop to the side and stormed into the streaming room, wearing a bitter expression. Lando turned, smiling before the smile turned into a grim look. He...was...fucked. "Hi babe." He said quietly. "Lando, could you please keep it down a bit? I'm trying to study out here." She said calmly. She didn't want fans making up rumours about an argument.

Lando, still wearing his headset, looked guilty. "I will try, but Max is-" She cut him off. "Lando, you will be quiet. I cannot fail these exams. I just need you to be quiet. Understood?" He nodded. "I'm sorry, babe. I got carried away. I'll tone it down." The serious expression turned to a light hearted smile, before she looked to the computer, smiled and waved to greet the chat, before leaving.

Lando continued on playing, listening to the chaos on the call and not acting up. But the guilt lingered, and he suddenly had to leave the stream momentarily. "Hey, guys? I'll be right back. Just need to grab a drink, I'll be back in a sec. Promise." He announced to his fellow drivers and viewers before leaving the room. He rushed to the kitchen, returning to the living room with a peace offering of snacks and energy drinks for his girlfriend who sat on her bean bag with her study sheets sprawled across the coffee table. She looked up quickly before looking back to her work and continuing on typing. "I'm really sorry, Y/n. Here, I got you some goodies. Let me make it up to you." Lando said, kneeling down beside her and leaving a small plate of biscuits and sweets beside her. She looked between the plate and Lando, seeing the sincerity in his expression before she chuckled, accepting the snacks. "You're lucky you're cute when you're sorry. Just try to keep it down, okay?"

"Okay, I promise." He said, pecking her cheek and running back to the livestream with his can of Monster. Back in the streaming room, Lando continued his broadcast. He scrolled through the chat, noticing a comment from Y/n.

Thanks for the biccies, lovey <3 Good luck with your stream!

His fans erupted in supportive comments, finding the situation adorable. Lando couldn't help but smile, covering his face from how hard he was blushing. "You better leave me some 9f them biscuits, Y/n." Lando said into the camera. "Let's get back to the race, shall we?" The stream continued, with a more considerate Lando and a grateful Y/n watching from the sidelines.

Carlos Sainz Jr.

As the creatures and people of Madrid lay asleep in their beds, Y/n sat on her laptop working away beside her boyfriend who had just come back from a race weekend on the other side of the globe. Carlos stirred in his sleep, as the soft glow of Y/n's laptop pierced the darkness. "What are you doing?" He mumbled, rubbing his eyes. Y/n glanced at him, her fingers dancing across the keyboard. "Sorry, babe. Got a deadline. Can't sleep." He sighed, and turned his back so he would be able to get even a glimpse of sleep. "Alright, just keep it down, please." He whispered. "Yes sir, Mr Sainz." She yawns, still typing.

In the morning, Carlos awoke to Y/n still typing away in their bed, exhaustion evident in her eyes. She got a lot of work done and had work in three hours. "Morning." He whispered, kissing her hand before sitting up. "Morning. Did you sleep alright?" Y/n asked. "Other than that one time you woke me, yes. Did you sleep at all?" Carlos asked. Y/n shook her head. "You should get some sleep before work. Finish this when you get home, yeah?" Y/n sighed in defeat. She wouldn't be able to go to work if she was this tired. Maybe a two hour sleep wouldn't hurt? " Carlos nodded, taking her laptop, placing it on the bedside table and tucking her into bed, . "You need to rest." He insisted. "I will wake you before work, mi amor." She reassured her, kissing her hair and letting her fall asleep.

When Y/n awoke, she looked out to see that the sun was awfully bright for 8am. Then she turned and saw Carlos walking into the room with a tray of coffee and toast. "What are you doing?" Y/n asked, sitting up. Carlos paused and looked at her. "Breakfast?" He replied in a question. Y/n looked at her phone, her eyes wide. "Oh my god! It's half past 11. I'm so fucking late!" She said. "No you aren't." Carlos replied, placing the tray on his locker. "I had work two hours ago!" She protested.

Carlos shook his head. "I called your boss, said you were sick." Y/n's eyes widened to what he had said. "Why'd you do that?" She asked. "Because you needed it." He replied, pulling the duvet over them and putting his arm around Y/n. "Carlos, I cant-" He cut her off. "Should we watch Berlín? It's meant to be really good." He said, flicking through the Netflix. "Babe. I'm serious. I need to go to work." She said. "And I have said before; you could quit work and I'll take care of you. You won't quit but I am still gonna take care of you. Now stay with me in bed and help me pick a series for us to watch."

She stopped complaining and lay in his arms. "Yeah. Berlín sounds good." She mumbled quietly. "Good, now here's some toast."

George Russell

George had brought Y/n to race weekends before, but this time, she found herself confined to the team's hospitality area, engrossed in her upcoming exams. She looked up to the TV evey so often to see how her boyfriend was doing before turning her attention back to her laptop. Like an angel sent, George decided to check in on her in between sessions, finding her buried in textbooks and notes.

"Hey, how's it going?" he asked, pressing a kiss onto her head and leaning on the table. Y/n looked up, tired but determined. "Just trying to survive this study session. Well done on topping the session by the way." George grinned. "It's only the second practise. I think we know what strategy we're going for in qualifying though." He chuckled. "Have you eaten?" Y/n thinks for a moment and shakes her head. "You do know, you need to eat too."

She sighed, burying her head in her hands from exhaustion. "I know, I just lost track of time. Can you grab me something?" George smiled. "Of course." He replied, leaving momentarily and heading to the barista bar. He returned moments later with a croissant and a latte, placing them in front of her. "Fuel for the brain." he said with a smile. Y/n looked up at him appreciatively, "You're my hero, Mr Russell. Thank you so much."

"No problem. I know how important these exams are for you." He replied, sitting beside her. As she sipped the latte and nibbled on the croissant, George and her began talking. "Anything I can help with? Maybe a quick break to clear your mind?" Y/n smiled. "You being here is already a huge help. But maybe a motivational speech wouldn't hurt."

"Im not doing motivational speeches." They both burst into laughter, lightening the mood in the cozy hospitality space. George wrapped his arm around Y/n, offering comfort and support. "You're the best distraction," she admitted, leaning into him. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "And you're the best thing that ever happened to me."

Lance Stroll

Lance sighed as he opened the door to his bedroom after his return from the gym to find Y/n looking a bit frustrated. He arched a brow as he sipped from his water bottle and decided to approach her, concern evident in his eyes. "What's wrong, babe?" He asked, sitting down beside her. She sighed. "I'm not sure, but I just can't study. Maybe it's just because of how different it is from studying in my office back home." Lance thought for a moment."How about you use my office? It's quiet, and you'll have all the space you need." He suggested. "Oh no, I couldn't." She replied. "No, seriously. I never use it anyway."

Y/n's face lit up with gratitude as Lance led her to his office. The room was filled with shelves displaying Lance's collection of racing helmets and trophies. The large floor-to-ceiling window revealed a breathtaking snowy landscape of their estate. "This is perfect." Y/n whispered, finding the desk facing the wonderous view. Lance smiled, happy to help her. "If you need me just call. I'm just gonna hit the shower." He said, pressing a kiss onto her cheek. "Thank you, babe." She grinned, setting her stuff down. "Anytime." He shot back before leaving and making his way to his bathroom to shower.

Y/n had gotten a lot done since she sat down. The view was a perfect distraction but not too distracting that she couldn't focus. If anything, it was there to just calm her down before getting right back to it. An hour passed, and Lance returned with snacks, finding Y/n engrossed in her studies. "Hey, how are you getting on?" He asked, peering through the door. "Doing good, Lancelot. I am doing good." She smiled, still jotting down some notes. He walked in with a tray of snacks. In between him showering and him walking around the kitchen, he decided Y/n needed to take a break and made up a snack tray to bring her.

"Need a study break?" he asked, handing her a twix. Y/n grinned, "Definitely. Thanks for this, Lance. This office is amazing." Lance chuckled, "Well, it's only fair you get a taste of my world too. Plus, I like having you happy." As they enjoyed their snacks, the conversation turned from how everyone in the house has an office to the trophies and helmets on the walls.

"You know-" Lance began, taking down his Balu trophy from back in 2017. "This one's from my first podium. I was so excited that day." Y/n smiled as she sipped her cola. "I can see why. You've got an impressive collection of trophies, Lancey." He looked at her warmly. "But none of them compare to having my trophy girlfriend. I worked my ass off to even get you on a date." Y/n laughed. "I'm serious! You kept saying no!"

"You should've taken the hint." Y/n replied. "Then who would be sat in this office?" Lance asked. "I don't know. One of those weird models that throw themselves at you, I guess." She joked. "Yeah, but I prefer you." Lance said. There grew a comfortable silence before Lamce stood up, collecting the wrappers off the snacks and putting them back onto the tray. "I guess it's time for you to get back to studying." Lance said. "Thank you for the company." Y/n smiled as Lamce leaned down to give her a kiss. "How about we watch a movie later and order takeout? Sound good?" Lance suggested. Y/n nodded. You really are a dream."

[scriptedinkbyxim]

Past the Finish Line: Into the Chicane [MV1]

Amidst the glitz and chaos of the F1 world and a very tense 2024 season, Max Verstappen and (Y/N) Sainz relationship faces a pivotal challenge. As racing pressures mount and emotions run wild, a moment of heartbreak leaves them questioning if love and ambition can coexist.

Pairings: Max Verstappen x Sainz! Female Reader

Warnings: Angst, So much Angst. Commitment Issues. Allusions to sex but nothing explicit. No happy ending.

A/N: Hi, Xim here. This is my first published fic and I hope you enjoy it. English is not my first language so apologies in advance for any mistake. This is pt. 1 of a three part mini series but can be read as a standalone.

Part 2. | Part 3.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

How did we end up here?

It was a question without an answer, one that lingered in the silence between them, thick and suffocating like the humid Budapest air pressing against the hotel windows. The suite was bathed in golden light from the city outside, reflecting the neon glow of the Hungarian Grand Prix weekend, but inside, the atmosphere was anything but warm.

Max stood with his hands on his hips, his jaw clenched so tightly that the veins in his neck were visible. (Y/N), across from him, arms crossed over her chest, blinking back the sting of tears that she refused to let fall.

Love was supposed to be a partnership.

It was supposed to be about growing together, supporting each other, facing life’s uncertainties as a unit. But sometimes, love wasn’t enough. Sometimes, no matter how much history two people shared, no matter how deeply they had intertwined their lives, love alone couldn’t bridge the gaps that formed between them.

It had started with something small. It always did.

A simple question, an offhand comment.

She had been scrolling through her phone at the hotel, the post-race adrenaline still pulsing through her veins. The results had been disappointing, and she knew Max was frustrated—knew the weight of the season was pressing down on him more than ever.

But then she saw the article.

Verstappen Focused on Career, No Interest in Settling Down Yet.

She laughed. Not because it was funny, but because of how absurd it was. The media speculated all the time, twisting words, exaggerating things—but this? This wasn’t an exaggeration. This was him, in his own words, saying everything she had feared.

“You could’ve at least warned me before telling the world you have ‘no interest’ in a future with me,” she had said, tossing her phone onto the coffee table.

Max had barely looked up from where he was unlacing his shoes. “What are you talking about?”

She grabbed her phone again, shoving it toward him. “This.”

He skimmed the article, expression unreadable. “It’s just media nonsense.”

“Max.” She crossed her arms, pressing her lips together. “It’s your quote.”

He exhaled sharply, tossing his shoes aside before leaning back against the couch. “I told them what I’ve been saying for years. My focus is on racing. Everything else can wait.”

Her stomach twisted. “Everything else?”

He looked at her then, brows furrowed. “You know what I mean.”

Did she?

Because standing here, listening to him say it like that—like their future was something to be indefinitely postponed, something unimportant—it didn’t feel like she knew anything at all.

“Do I?” she asked, voice sharp. “Because from where I’m standing, it sounds like I’m just supposed to keep waiting while you decide if I fit into your perfect little plan.”

Max ran a hand down his face, already exasperated. “Why are you making this a big deal? You know how important this season is.”

Her hands curled into fists at her sides. “I know how important racing is to you, Max. I’ve always known.”

It was the unspoken part that stung.

But do you know how important I am?

His silence answered that question for her.

φ

AUSTRALIA, 2015

The first time she met Max, he was just a boy with sharp blue eyes and a cocky grin, standing next to her older brother in the paddock. She had been fifteen, barely old enough to understand the world she had grown up in, but something about him had intrigued her.

Carlos had been the one to introduce them, laughing when Max—seventeen and already making a name for himself—had barely glanced at her before shaking her hand with a distracted nod.

She had rolled her eyes, unimpressed, and muttered something in Spanish under her breath. Whatever it was, it had caught Max’s attention, and for the first time, he had really looked at her.

“You speak Spanish?” he had asked.

“She’s my sister,” Carlos deadpanned. “Of course she does.”

Max now had a flirty smirk. Carlos had groaned, but (Y/N) just laughed, not knowing then that this arrogant Dutch boy would become the love of her life.

φ

They had fought before. God, they had fought. Stubbornness was ingrained in both of them, but this wasn’t like before. This wasn’t an argument that would end in tangled limbs and whispered apologies in the dark. This was something breaking—cracking apart at the seams, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t hold it together.

“Do you even hear yourself?” Max’s voice was sharp, edged with frustration, exhaustion, and something deeper—something that made her stomach twist painfully. “You think now is the time for this? Right now, when everything is going to shit?”

(Y/N) inhaled sharply, nails digging into her palms. “I think now is the time because I can’t keep waiting for a ‘right’ moment that never comes.”

Max scoffed, running a hand through his disheveled hair, already damp from the heat. “So what? You want me to deflect from the championship with this? With fucking marriage and kids?”

The words were a slap.

She staggered under the weight of them, blinking as if that would somehow make them disappear. He didn’t mean it, she told herself. He was angry. Stressed. But the way he was looking at her—like she was asking for something outrageous, something unreasonable—made her chest ache in a way she hadn’t felt before.

“I’ve been with you for eight years,” she whispered, voice shaking despite herself. “Through everything. I have given you everything, Max. And you act like I’m some… inconvenience?”

His lips parted slightly, but no words came out. He just stared at her, expression unreadable, and suddenly she was drowning in memories.

φ

SILVERSTONE, 2019

The energy at Silverstone was electric, the summer air thick with heat and anticipation. The race had been brutal—wheel-to-wheel battles, aggressive overtakes, and tensions running high.

(Y/N) had been in the paddock, watching the post-race interviews, still grinning from the chaos on track. Max had fought like hell against Charles, the two nearly colliding more times than she could count.

Carlos, standing beside her, let out a low whistle. “That was some proper racing.”

“Some proper reckless racing,” Lando chimed in, shaking his head with a smirk. “I swear, those two act like they have a personal vendetta.”

(Y/N) laughed, arms crossed as she watched Max approach from the media pen, Charles a few steps behind him. The Monegasque caught her eye first, giving her a knowing look. “You should keep your boyfriend in check. He drives like a lunatic.”

Max, overhearing, scoffed. “And you don’t?”

She stepped between them, rolling her eyes. “Are you two seriously arguing again? You just got out of the car.”

Charles smirked. “It’s called passion, Dolcezza.”

She shook her head but smiled, glancing at Lando, who was already pulling out his phone to film whatever chaos was about to unfold.

Then she felt Max’s arm loop around her waist, pulling her into his side. It was natural, instinctive—like muscle memory.

She looked up at him, arching a brow. “What are you doing?”

“Reminding Charles that you’re mine,” he said, smirking.

She rolled her eyes, but her heart fluttered anyway.

Lando, never missing an opportunity, pointed his phone at them. “Aww, look at you two. So cute.”

Carlos clapped Max on the back. “Alright, lover boy. Let’s go debrief before you and Charles start throwing punches.”

As the group walked off, she stayed behind for a second, looking back at the track. The adrenaline, the heat, the pure joy of racing—it was everything Max loved.

And she loved him.

Back then, she had believed that was enough.

φ

“Do you remember Silverstone?” she asked suddenly, voice thick with emotion breaking the silence.

Max blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“2019. After the race.”

His brows furrowed. “Yeah, of course. Why?”

She let out a shaky breath. “Because back then, you wanted me by your side. You wanted a future with me. And now…” She gestured helplessly between them. “Now I don’t even know if I fit into your life anymore.”

Max stepped forward, frustration flashing in his eyes. “That’s not fair, Schatje. You know I want you with me.”

She let out a bitter laugh. “Do I? Because from where I’m standing, all I see is a man who only prioritizes me when it’s convenient.”

His jaw clenched. “That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?” Her voice cracked. “You’ve built your entire life around racing, Max. And I’ve let you. I’ve supported you through everything, sacrificed parts of myself just to be what you needed. But when do I get to be a priority? Do you even think about a future with me anymore?”

The silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating.

Finally, Max exhaled, shaking his head. “I can’t do this right now.”

She flinched.

Not I don’t want to lose you.

Not We can figure this out.

Just I can’t do this right now.

And that was all she needed to hear.

She looked out the window as the sun set, trying to hold on to the remaining pieces of their relationship.

φ

BARCELONA, 2016

It happened in Barcelona, after the race. It wasn’t anything grand or cinematic. No fireworks, no dramatic declarations of love—just two teenagers who had spent months circling each other, neither willing to admit what had been obvious to everyone around them.

They had been walking through the Red Bull hospitality area late at night, the paddock nearly empty. (Y/N) had teased him about his race start, and he had nudged her shoulder in response, grumbling about how she and Carlos always ganged up on him.

Then, suddenly, the air shifted.

She had looked up at him, at those sharp blue eyes, and for the first time, there had been no hesitation. No fear.

He had kissed her like he had been waiting to do it forever.

And maybe he had.

φ

Max exhaled harshly, shaking his head as if trying to take back his last words.

She let out a bitter laugh, stepping away from him, away from the suffocating weight of this argument. Her hands trembled as she wiped at her face, furious with herself for letting the tears slip free.

“I was there when you won your first race,” she said, voice quiet now, laced with pain. “I was there for your first pole, your first championship. I put my career—my life—on hold for you because I believed in us. I believed in you.”

Max flinched, just barely, but it was enough. Enough for her to see that he knew—deep down—she was right.

And yet, when he spoke again, his voice was cold. “I can’t afford distractions right now. Not with the way this season is going.”

φ

ABU DHABI, 2021

She had been in the garage, hands clasped together so tightly that her knuckles had turned white. The final lap. The final chance.

And then—Max had done it. He was an F1 World Champion.

She had barely had time to react before he was running toward her, before she was in his arms, laughter and tears mixing as he spun her around.

“You did it,” she whispered against his shoulder.

He had pulled back just enough to press his forehead against hers, grinning like a madman. “We did it Schatje.”

At that moment (Y/N) felt as if they were in heaven, as if with Max everything was possible. Nothing indicated otherwise, she was in heaven and nothing could have prepared her for the fall.

φ

Now she felt like a fool. 

His words echoed in his head like torment.

Distraction.

That was all she was to him.

She had loved Max since she was sixteen. Supported him through every win, every loss, every moment of doubt. And now, when she was finally asking for something in return, he was acting like she was asking for the impossible.

“I’m not saying we have to get married and start having kids tomorrow,” she said, voice tight. “I’m saying that after eight years, I need to know if there’s a future here. If I even matter to you beyond being someone who follows you around from race to race.”

Max exhaled harshly, shaking his head. “You know you matter to me.”

“Do I?” she challenged. “Because it doesn’t feel like it, Max. It feels like I’m just another part of your career, like I exist to be there for you but never the other way around.”

His jaw tightened. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?”

(Y/N) stared at him, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths, and suddenly it was so clear. There was no answer to the question that had haunted her since the fight started.

How did we end up here?

She took a step back, then another, and Max didn’t move. Didn’t reach for her.

And that was it. That was all she needed to know.

“I hope you win,” she said, her voice hollow. “I really do. Because if you don’t, then you’ve lost everything for nothing.”

Then she turned and walked away, leaving behind the man she had loved for eight years and the life she had built around him.

As the door clicked shut behind her, leaving nothing but the ghost of her presence and the sharp scent of her perfume in its wake, Max remained motionless. The silence in the hotel room felt suffocating now, pressing against his ribs with the weight of unsaid things. I hope you win. The words rang in his ears, curling around his thoughts like a vice, and for the first time in his life, victory felt like a consolation prize rather than a triumph. 

He exhaled, slow and measured, running a hand through his hair as if to steady himself, but the ache in his chest remained—something raw, something unresolved. He should have stopped her. He should have said something. But all that remained was the quiet hum of the city outside and the space where she had stood, her absence louder than any of the words they had spoken. What had he just done?

φ

MONACO, 2024 – ONE WEEK LATER.

(Y/N) moved through their apartment with practiced efficiency, collecting the last of her things. The space was eerily silent without Max’s presence—no sound of him pacing while on the phone with his agent, no distant hum of the simulator running late into the night.

She had always loved this apartment. It had been their home together, the place where they had grown from teenagers in love to adults navigating life side by side. Every corner held a memory—a lazy morning spent tangled in bed, a quiet evening watching the sunset from their balcony, a passionate night lost in each other's bodies, the scent of Max’s cologne lingering in the hallway.

But now, all those memories felt like ghosts.

She moved to the dresser, opening the top drawer. His shirts were still there, neatly folded. She hesitated before picking one up, pressing the fabric between her fingers.

It smelled like him. Like home.

Her breath hitched.

She had fought for them. She had given everything.

And Max… he had let her.

She placed the shirt back, smoothing it down with trembling fingers before shutting the drawer.

There was nothing left for her here.

Her clothes were gone from the closet. The photos of them that had once decorated the walls had been packed away. It was as if she had never been there.

And maybe that was fitting.

Maybe, in the end, she had always been a ghost in his life—something present but never permanent.

She exhaled shakily, picking up her bags. The apartment door loomed before her, the final threshold between the life she had built and the unknown future waiting beyond it.

As (Y/N) stood in the doorway one last time, she hesitated—just for a second.

φ

MONACO, 2020

The apartment smelled of fresh paint and new beginnings. The floor-to-ceiling windows bathed the living room in golden afternoon light, the Mediterranean stretching endlessly beyond the balcony. (Y/N) stood in the middle of the half-unpacked chaos, a cardboard box in her hands, watching as Max struggled with assembling a bookshelf. His brows were furrowed in frustration, lips pressed into a thin line as he fumbled with the instructions.

"You know, for someone who drives at 300 kilometers per hour, you’re really bad at putting things together," she teased, biting back a laugh.

Max shot her a glare before tossing the manual aside. "I don’t need instructions," he huffed.

(Y/N) arched her brow. "That’s exactly what someone who definitely needs instructions would say."

With a sigh, Max slumped onto the floor, running a hand through his hair. "I hate this already."

She set the box down and moved to sit beside him, nudging his shoulder with hers. "Maybe if you let me help—"

He turned his head slightly, eyes softening as he looked at her. "You’re really here," he murmured, as if the reality of it was only just sinking in.

She tilted her head, amusement fading into something more tender. "Of course, I’m here. I wouldn’t be anywhere else."

The pandemic had changed everything. Racing was postponed, the world had slowed down, and in the stillness of it all, they had found themselves craving something more permanent. She had just finished her literature degree, unsure of what came next, but when Max asked her to move in, the answer had been easy.

"Are you sure about this?" he had asked her a week before, voice hesitant over the phone.

She had smiled, even though he couldn’t see it. "Max, I’ve basically lived in airports and hotel rooms with you for years. At least this way, I finally get a closet of my own. Besides, I can't spend another minute with my brother and Dad while on lockdown." She said with a laugh, Carlos protests could be heard in the Background.

Now, sitting in their new apartment, surrounded by boxes of their intertwined lives, she reached for his hand. "I think we’re going to be really happy here," she said, squeezing his fingers.

Max exhaled, leaning his forehead against hers. "Yeah," he murmured. "Me too Shatje. Me too."

And for a long time, they were.

φ

How did we end up here?

The truth was simple. She already knew.

She had loved him more than she had loved herself.

Love wasn’t always enough.

People grew, evolved, sometimes in different directions. Some fights were worth having, but others—others only proved how much two people had already lost.

Love wasn’t enough for them. No matter how much they had tried, no matter how much she had wanted to fight for them, it wasn’t enough.

And with that final thought and one last breath, she stepped forward, closing the door behind her, and walked away.

[multifandomgirl08]

OG Wedding Headcanon [Mini Verstappen Series]

Dad!Max Verstappen x Wife!Reader (Established Relationship)

Photo Credit: Pinterest/Tumblr

Format: Headcanon/Social Media

Summary: Headcanons from Max and the Reader's wedding. Social Media posts from during their honeymoon.

Warning(s): N/A

Words: 0.8k

Previous Part → Next Part Mini Verstappen Masterlist

The wedding was with about 100 people there (Maybe slightly over, who's really counting)

The whole grid came. + Sebastian came but didn't RSVP until the last possible minute.

Christian, Geri, and most of the engineers from RBR ended up coming (ex. GP, Calum, Jonathan, and Hannah), those who weren't able to make it sent Max their congratulations

Lewis ended up sitting on Y/N’s side of the aisle instead of Max’s.

Y/N was nervous to walk down the aisle but talking to Sophie helped calm her down

“Sophie,” Y/N said to her as they walked hand in hand before the music started playing for her to walk down the aisle. “I just want to thank you. Thank you for raising Max the way that you did, and being there for him when Nico came into his life.”

You could see that Sophie was starting to tear up a bit. “My son loves you, and my grandson too. I couldn’t have asked for a better wife to my son even if I had a hand in choosing her myself.”

Victoria ends up being Y/N's Maid of Honor

Max did end up crying when Y/N came walking down the aisle

Her dress was custom-made, and she wore ivory instead of the traditional white

Daniel tried to joke that he lost the rings when the officiant asked for them. Max ended up just laughing before Daniel slipped them into his hand.

There is a section of Y/N's wedding vows to Nico

Nico ended up crying into the skirt of her dress not wanting to let go of her during the rest of the ceremony

Max ends up spending the first few moments of his vows stumbling over his words before reaching for Y/N's hand, needing to feel her to ground him back to just her

Lando offers to DJ the wedding reception as his wedding present, and he would have if Martin hadn't already agreed to do it months before

Daniel made the best best man speech known to man with just the right amount of jokes. His speech ended with,

"But I digress, Y/N, you make Max so happy and have become an integral part of his family. I hope Max, that you know how lucky you are to have her in your life." Daniel lifted his champagne glass. "To many more years for the two of you, to Mr. and Mrs. Verstappen."

Victoria kept her Maid of Honor speech rather short but welcomed you into the family and joked with Max that if he screwed up she got to keep you in the divorce

Max laughed before giving Y/N a questionable look as if to say, Something I don't know about? Before breaking out into a smile knowing that Victoria is joking

Max quickly interjected, "I don't plan on letting that happen." before lifting her hand and lightly kissing the back of it

Everyone drank from their glasses and Nico and Victoria's boys got glasses of sparkling apple cider

Nico ends up cutting in during Max and Y/N's first dance

On the cake topper, the groom is in a race suit instead of a tux

Y/N ends up shoving Max's face into the wedding cake after it was cut

Halfway through the evening, Daniel ended up stealing the photographer's camera and started taking candid photos of everyone

Max and Y/N leave the day after the wedding, Nico staying with Sophie until both you and Max get back from you're honeymoon

ynverstappen

Liked by martingarrix, tiffanycromwell, and 345,926 others

ynverstappen My forever travel buddy

oscarpiastri Don't know where you're going but can you bring me back a keychain?

landonorris Keychain? I'm surprised that Y/N is even posting on her IG

lewishamilton Enjoy the honeymoon guys 🏝️ 🏞️

View all 381 comments

fan50 I want what she has...

agirlsguidetof1 Officially not allowed to gatekeep shirtless photos of Max anymore

Feb 3, 2025

ynverstappen

Liked by maxverstappen1 and 391,872 others

ynverstappen Before dinner, during and after

View all 605 comments

raquel.james OMG! So cute!! 💘💘

formu14leclerc How do all of her photos maintain the same aesthetic?

girlonthxgrid 😍😍 They are the best couple!

Feb 7, 2025

verstappen1.jpg

Liked by ynverstappen and 273,837 others

verstappen1.jpg Being with you is simply lovely

ynverstappen ❤️❤️❤️

View all 368 comments

fan97 These photos feel like they're straight out of a Vogue shoot

fan47 Max pulled out the Simply Lovely. I'm Dead!

maxverstappen1

Liked by ynverstappen, victoriaverstappen and 586,745 others

maxverstappen1 To share everything with you.

View all 354 comments

fan60 Max double posting on two accounts in the span of a day

fan85 I know it's their honeymoon, but Max is gatekeeping all of the gorgeous pictures of Y/N for himself

Feb 9, 2025

taglist: @karmabyfernando, @barcagirly, @sachaa-ff, @iamahallucinationnn, @musingsbyshreya, @glow-ish, @nonsensical-nonsence, @fanboyluvr, @champomiel, @gothicwidowsworld, @lighttsoutlewis, @itsalwaysgay, @minkyungseokie, @mynameisangeloflife, @ursforever129, @aundercover, @bborra

[paleprincessturtle]

Always Somewhere

Sooooo, this one isn't my usual Harvey Specter fic. I've known F1 for ages (my fiance is a diehard petrolhead and an F1 huge fan, so I've heard about it here and there). But with all the media coverage, I've been exposed to the world of F1 more than usual lately. And I've had this idea in my mind for a couple of weeks now, so why not post about it?

This is definitely going to be a mini-series. Forgive any errors in my writing. I hope you guys enjoy this!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader (for now🤭)

Word count: 1.6K

DECEMBER 2021

It was a little over 9 pm when Max made the urgent call to Charles. Being alone in his apartment, Charles told him to come to his place. He wouldn’t say that Max was his best friend, but they always had that chemistry going on between them, also the urgency in Max’s voice, Charles couldn’t lie that he got quite worried. Even when his nickname was Mad Max, he never really let his emotions get the best of him outside of the racing world. Charles always saw him as a very poised man, against all odds.

The ding to Charles’ apartment startled him. When he opened the door for Max, he was surprised. Max looked... disheveled. The black circle under his eyes, the unshaved stubble. Max smiled weakly as he raised a bottle of wine. Max sat quietly on the couch as Charles disappeared with the wine bottle. He carried two glasses of wine and managed to also hold the bottle in his right hand. As Charles sat across from him, Max sighed. That deep long sigh that was laden with something heavy. It was silent for a couple of seconds before Charles broke the silence. “Are you okay?” Max didn’t look at him right away; his gaze fell upon the white fuzzy carpet under the table, then to the stacks of magazines on the table, to the wine glasses, to the withering flowers in the vase. Everywhere but Charles’ eyes. Max sighed again, and what after felt like an eternity, finally he met Charles’ gaze. “I feel like total shit,” Charles commented with a small laugh. “No shit.” Max snickered at Charles’ response. Max also felt the same way about their friendship. But Max knew Charles understood. Not to mention they live only a few minutes drive away. Desperate times called for desperate measures, Max thought. “I couldn’t sleep. When I slept, it was full of nightmares,” Max paused, Charles nodded and encouraged him to continue. “The burden of everything...” he trailed off; both his hands found their way to his face, and he groaned. Charles looked at him with full sympathy. He put a gentle hand on Max’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, I can’t help much. But you know, if you are open to suggestions,” Charles threaded carefully as Max looked at him. “I know a therapist, a psychologist; she can help. She’s like the best one I know.” Again, Charles looked at him carefully. Afraid that Max took it as an offense at the prospect that he needed professional help. “You are seeing this psychologist?” Charles shook his head. “No. But I’ve known her since I was a kid.”

So that night, Max saved the number of said psychologist, just in case he wanted to go see her. The rest of the night went smoothly, transforming the depressing topic into a lighter one. Max laid on his sofa, Sassy sprawled across his chest. His finger hovered over the number he had just saved the previous few nights. Max won’t even deny it. There was some pride in him that he just couldn’t admit that he needed to talk. Of all the things he could do, he needed to talk. Just talk. But the past few nights had been horrible. “Fuck it,” he mumbled to the empty house as he pressed the number. A chirpy voice in French greeted him, and he awkwardly chuckled before saying that his fluency still needed some finesse to it. “Yes, I would like to set an appointment.” Max waited, sat straight up now. It was nerve-wracking, he thought. He listened (not so) patiently and nodded, “Just as soon as I can.” The chirpy voice came to a halt once again: “Okay, Mr. Verstappen. I can schedule you today at 6 pm. Would that be okay?”

It was 5.45 pm when Max arrived at the building. He sat there in his car, in complete silence. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. He could just say he suddenly got sick and bailed out of it. Max was not one to pour his heart out. He sighed as he rubbed his eyes. He closed his eyes and leaned back. He took a steady breath. He needed this. He needed to get better for the upcoming season.

As he waited for the elevator to go up, he couldn’t help but marvel at the lavishness of the building. This psychologist must have made a lot to be able to rent a place like this. As the elevator came to a halt, Max took some cautious steps. He again was greeted by the same chirpy voice he heard on the phone just a few hours before. “Good evening, Mr. Verstappen.” She was greeted with a warm smile. Max stopped at the reception table and nodded his greeting. “Mr. Verstappen, there are some forms that need to be filled just before you proceed with your evening here,” she handed him a transparent clipboard and a pen.

Max then entered the psychologist's room. He pushed the heavy door and was greeted with a woody smell. The room was big with a ceiling-to-floor glass window overlooking the dark Mediterranean Sea. A woman, he bet wasn’t even older than him, turned to him as she heard the door being pushed open. She was beautiful, Max admitted. Not models kind of beautiful but like normal kind of beautiful. Her hair was long and wavy. She dressed in a tan sweater and navy pencil skirt just shy around her knees. Her high heels clacked over the marble floor as she approached Max. “You must be Max Verstappen; it's a pleasure to meet you,” she offered her hand and smiled at him. Her name dripped out of her mouth like honey. “You can call me Max.” Max sat down on the single-seater leather sofa just across from her. “Okay, Max. So how are you today?”

To his surprise, the conversation went smoothly. He didn’t feel like he was under the scrutiny or anything. He talked about his father, the burden of this year’s WDC, the nightmares, and the feeling that he had never done anything good enough. Everything. Before he knew it, their session was over. Max held himself from whining when she informed her that they had finished their session. “You should think about our conversation,” she said, looking at him thoughtfully, legs crossed. Max mused, deep in thought, then nodded. “We can continue this next week, yes?” She smiled at him before writing something down in her notebook. “Next week? That’s like so long,” Max's brows knitted. She laughed, and he found himself smiling at the sound. “You need to think about what we talked about today, Max. And not that I discredited your ability to think about it, but this type of thing takes time. Okay?”

FEBRUARY 2022

What Max only planned as one session turned into 5, and 5 turned into 20. It wasn’t always face-to-face sessions. Sometimes Max needed out of the country multiple times, so they continued via video calls. Sometimes, Max asked for more than one meeting per week. And she obliged as she deemed necessary. But on this 20th meeting, they met again in her office. After an hour passed, she put down her glasses on the side table. “Max, it is with great joy that I inform you that this is your last session with me,” she smiled brightly at him. Max was flabbergasted, to say the least. “What do you mean the last? I still need you." She smiled at him, full of understanding. “Max, let me ask you something. Say that you go see a doctor for a headache; the doctor prescribed you some ibuprofen. Upon deeper investigation, it happened that you have poor sleep hygiene, and you never ate on time. That is what caused you persistent headaches. While fixing your sleeping and eating schedule, you keep taking ibuprofen. But once you can maintain a good sleeping and eating schedule, the headaches vanish. Do you think you would still need to take the ibuprofen?” Max slowly shook his head. “Why?” she asked again. “Because the core of the problem is handled.” He answered but his voice was smaller than usual. “Exactly,” she smiled and watched him. “You don’t look happy,” she observed. “How if I can’t do it without you?” she gave him a warm smile and a gentle, brief squeeze on his hand. “It’s you that has been doing it all this time, Max. Not me. You did it all just before the season started. Wasn’t that your goal? You should be proud of yourself as much as I you.” Max nodded at her answer, feeling defeated. “You should be glad. Cheer up, Max! You don’t have to keep paying me now,” she tried to lighten up the situation with a joke. Max chuckled, “Money is not the problem.” She looked deep into his eyes. “I know.” They stayed like that for a couple of seconds until an idea crossed Max’s mind. “But we can be friends, right? You’re friends with Charles, and I’m also friends with Charles.” He looked at her, eyes full of hope. “We can’t be involved in any relationship at least until 2 years from today,” Max’s jaw dropped. “Said who?” he quipped. “Said the code of ethics,” she chuckled. “I’m also moving to Cambridge; I’m taking my doctorate.” She blushed as she shared the information; she was never really one to share with her client, even on the last termination session. Max beamed over the news, “Oh, I’m so glad to hear that! I hope England will treat you well.”

As Max waited for the elevator to bring him down, he realized he wasn’t that thrilled about the news that she was going to continue her doctorate, nor at the news that they couldn’t be in any relationship for the next 2 years. Something tugged at his heart. He was going to miss her.

[reidsworld]

Masterlist (a-z)

navigation - rules

Aaron Hotchner

Unveiled Secrets - Fluff The BAU team has a sneaking suspicion that their stoic leader, Aaron Hotchner, is in a relationship, but they don't know the extent of it.

Disobeyed Orders - Angst, Fluff Being married to your boss has its complications, especially when you have a habit of ignoring orders. Requested.

Elijah Mikaelson

In the Arms of Eternity - Angst After holding your dying body in his arms, Elijah realises what he has to do to protect you, even if it means breaking your heart in the process. Requested.

Hugh Jackman

Beekeeping Age - Fluff Who knew having a crush on your best friends dad would turn out so good? Requested.

Logan Howlett

A Different Kind of Training - Smut When sparring with Logan turns into something more.

Winter’s Constant - Hurt/Comfort, Fluff You have always dreaded winter, every year it’s a challenge just to make it through the day. Except this year, things are a bit different with Logan by your side. Requested.

Patience Wears Thin - Smut Logan’s flirty behaviour has you thinking he’s just being sarcastic. But when his attitude changes and his grumpiness intensifies, leading to him avoiding you, you confront him, only for him to finally snap. Requested.

The Time We Have - Angst, Fluff Logan struggles with the fear of dying and leaving Laura alone, but meeting you helps him find peace. Set in an AU where Logan does not die at the end of Logan (2017).

Beautiful Tragedy - Angst Set in late 1800s London high society, Logan Howlett falls for a woman who is off limits, resulting in what can only be described as a beautiful tragedy. Part 2.

Out of Control - Hurt/Comfort Logan helps you learn to control your powers. Requested.

Cinnamon and Whiskey - Fluff Secret Santa and tipsy flirting with Logan at the X-Men Christmas party. Requested.

Drabbles

Giving old man!Logan head

Giving him head pt. 2

Headcanons

Birthdays - Fluff

Mini-Series

Scars of Time For decades, Logan and you have been each other’s sanctuary in a world that never offers peace. From a fateful encounter in a dive bar to a life together at the X-Mansion, your bond has weathered countless trials. But as Logan’s once-impenetrable healing powers begin to fail and your own abilities start to drain you, the stakes grow perilously high. With your love on the line and survival in question, can you both endure the ultimate test of sacrifice and devotion? Or will the scars of time finally come to bite you in the ass? Requested. Ongoing.

Max Verstappen

Baby Fever - Fluff Max gets a case of baby fever after seeing you with his nephew. Requested.

Spencer Reid

Parties - Smut Spencer, Reader's boyfriend, gets jealous of the Readers family friend at a party.

[pucksandpower]

Ooh, for the grid kids series, how about the time when all the grid kids had to babysit Seb and y/n's daughter? I feel like it would be chaos all around.

Grid Kids: Baby-Sitters Club

Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers

Summary: the grid kids have tamed some of the fastest cars on the planet but can they tame their baby sister?

Series Masterlist

Max Verstappen: Good Taste in Music

“Alright, mate, remember, she likes the pacifier if she starts crying and always check if she’s hungry,” Sebastian instructs as he hands over the baby monitor to Max.

Max nods, trying to hide the nervousness on his face. “Got it. How hard can it be? I’ve tamed a Red Bull, after all.”

You chuckle, “It’s not the same, Max. She’s not going to pit in 2.4 seconds if she needs something.”

Handing over a small pink bag, you add, “There’s some milk in the bottle and a few toys. Oh, and if she starts crying and won’t stop, play her the Formula 1 theme. She strangely calms down to that.”

Max, cradling the baby carefully in his arms, smirks. “Like mother, like daughter.”

Sebastian laughs, “Alright, we’ll be back in a couple of hours. You got this.”

An hour into his babysitting gig and things are surprisingly smooth. Max and the little one are seated on the couch, with him talking to her about overtaking techniques and the importance of tire management.

Suddenly, a small wail interrupts his monologue. Max’s eyes widen in slight panic. He tries the pacifier. No luck. He checks the diaper. Still dry. The wailing grows louder.

Thinking quickly, he connects his phone to the speakers and starts playing the F1 theme song. Just as you said, the baby’s cries subside and she starts to doze off.

Max lets out a sigh of relief, whispering to the now sleeping baby, “You’re going to be a racer, aren’t you? Just remember, Maxie taught you the basics.”

A few hours later, you return to find Max fast asleep on the couch with a snoozing baby cuddled on his chest, the F1 theme playing softly in the background. You share a smile, knowing your little girl is in good hands with her grid brothers.

Charles Leclerc: Start Them Young

“Okay, she might be a bit tricky during her nap times. She’s been fighting sleep a lot lately,” you adjust the baby bag over Charles’ shoulder.

Charles gives a confident nod, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Don’t worry, I have a plan. Have you ever tried Ferrari engine sounds to help her fall asleep?”

Sebastian chuckles, “Not quite the lullaby most kids go for but anything is worth a shot.”

You smile, patting Charles on the back, “Good luck. We’ll be back soon.”

An hour into babysitting, the little one is becoming restless, rubbing her eyes, yet refusing to close them. Charles has an idea. Booting up his laptop, he finds a clip from one of the recent races, and soon, the familiar sound of a roaring Ferrari engine fills the room.

Amazingly, the baby’s eyes start to droop, and within minutes, she’s sound asleep. Charles grins triumphantly, feeling quite proud of his unconventional method.

Later, he decides to do a mini photoshoot, dressing her up in a tiny Ferrari onesie he secretly bought and posing her with a little Ferrari model car.

Upon returning, you and Sebastian are welcomed by a giggling Charles showing them the adorable pictures. “Look, she’s a natural Tifosa! We start them young.”

Sebastian laughs, “That’s one way to do it. Just remember, she’s got Red Bull and Aston Martin blood too.”

Charles winks, “We’ll see about that!"

You can’t help but laugh, “No matter the team, she’s got the best grid brothers around.”

Lance Stroll: Canadian by Proxy

“Alright, little miss, ready for some Canadian immersion?” Lance grins widely, holding up a tiny hockey stick and puck. “It’s never too early for your first hockey lesson.”

You raise an eyebrow, laughing, “I’m not sure she can even hold that stick yet, let alone play.”

Lance winks, adjusting the baby-sized Montreal Canadiens jersey he brought with him. “Trust me, by the time I’m done, she’ll be ready for the NHL.”

Sebastian smirks, “Just remember, no actual skating yet.”

With you and Sebastian heading out, Lance sets the scene for a cozy afternoon. He places the baby on a soft blanket, surrounding her with plush hockey toys, and turns on a recorded game. Soon, the room echoes with the sounds of cheering fans and commentary.

The baby gazes curiously at the screen, her little fingers reaching out to grasp the mini puck Lance places in front of her. Lance, laying beside her, narrates the game with exaggerated commentary, making her giggle with delight.

Halfway through their game, Lance feels adventurous. He gently places the baby in a laundry basket cushioned with a plush blanket, using the mini hockey stick to push her around, mimicking the action on the TV screen. Her laughter fills the room as they play their unique version of indoor hockey.

By the time you return, you find Lance, completely worn out, sprawled on the floor, with your daughter, dressed in her little hockey jersey, contentedly napping next to him, clutching the mini stick.

Sebastian laughs, “Looks like you had quite the game.”

Lance grins, slightly out of breath, “She’s got potential. Might just be the next German hockey prodigy.”

You chuckle, “Thanks, Lance. Just remember, before hockey comes racing.”

He winks, “We’ll see. Maybe She’ll bring the Stanley Cup back home to Montreal one day!”

George Russell: Pulling Pigtails

“George! Over here!” You wave, holding out the baby bag as George ambles over, hair in its usual perfect quiff.

“Well, hello there!” George greets, bending over to coo at the baby who instantly reaches out, tiny fingers eager to grab his thick hair.

“Looks like someone’s a fan of your hair,” Sebastian remarks with a chuckle, watching as his daughter gleefully tugs on George's hair.

George laughs, wincing just a tad. “It’s alright, who needs a hairdresser when you have such a cute little stylist?”

You hand over a bottle of milk, “She just had a nap and might be hungry soon. And, well, you might want to keep an eye on your hair.”

With baby in arms, George heads over to the living room. Laying out a blanket, he places her down, only to have her immediately try crawling towards him, reaching for his hair again. Grinning, he plays a little game, leaning in close and then pulling back, making her giggle each time.

As the afternoon progresses, George discovers that his hair is the ultimate distraction. Whether she’s fussy or just bored, having his hair within reach keeps her entertained. Even feeding her becomes easier as she remains captivated by his hair while sipping on her milk.

Feeling a tad mischievous, George decides to shoot a quick Instagram story, showing the world his new hairdresser in action. Fans immediately flood the comments, loving the adorable interaction between the racing star and the tiny tot.

When you and Sebastian return, you find George seated, baby in his lap, both engrossed in a video of funny hair fails. His hair now looks nothing like its usual pristine self, instead resembling a bird’s nest.

“Seems like you two had quite the day,” you remark with a laugh.

George, brushing a hand through his tousled hair, smiles, “Best hair appointment ever. And the most adorable tiny stylist to boot.”

Lando Norris: Stealing the Show

“Alright, munchkin, just you and me today. How hard can this be?” Lando chirps, picking up the little bundle and settling her onto the couch, surrounding her with cushions. The room is set up for his usual streaming session, his gaming chair at the ready and multiple screens glowing.

He’s barely into his first game when a small cry interrupts him. “Hungry already?” he asks, looking over to see her trying to grab the controller lying next to her. “Ah, you want in on the action?”

Quickly, Lando scoops her up and settles her on his lap, handing her a toy controller. “There you go, co-host,” he says with a grin, adjusting his headset and returning to his game.

He’s live-streaming and the chat exploded with comments about his adorable helper.

Who’s the kiddo?

That’s some fierce competition you got there!

Does she have her own Twitch channel yet?

But the peace doesn’t last long. In the middle of a particularly intense race, the baby suddenly decides to slam her toy controller on the keyboard. The game goes haywire, Lando’s car spinning out of control.

“Oh no! Sabotage!” Lando exclaims, laughing even as he tries to regain control.

The baby giggles, clearly pleased with the chaos she’s caused. Lando’s chat goes wild with laughter and teasing comments.

Dude, you just got schooled by a baby!

That’s what you get for multi-tasking

She’s clearly the superior gamer

Shaking his head in mock exasperation, Lando says, “Alright, alright, you win this round.” He lifts her up, peppering her face with playful kisses, making her squeal and show a gummy smile.

Throughout the stream, there are more interruptions — from spit-up incidents to sudden dance breaks every time she gets fussy. Lando quickly learns that streaming with a baby requires a whole new level of multitasking.

As the stream comes to an end, Lando addresses his viewers. “Thanks for joining in. Hope you enjoyed the special appearance by our youngest gamer here. Maybe we’ll make this a regular thing?”

The unanimous response? More baby streams!

Chuckling, Lando signs off, “Say bye-bye, little co-driver.”

She waves her tiny hand as the screen goes black.

Mick Schumacher: Baby Meets Fur Baby

“Hey there, Ang,” Mick says with a smile as he enters the room, the baby cradled in his arms. Angie, his Australian Shepherd, immediately perks up, her tail wagging enthusiastically.

The baby’s eyes widen as she takes in the large, furry creature approaching her. Mick chuckles, gently lowering her onto the floor as he kneels down beside her. “This is Angie,” he introduces, watching as the dog sniffs curiously at the baby.

Angie’s warm, wet nose tickles the baby’s palm and she lets out a squeal, her fingers curling in delight. “Looks like you’ve made a new friend,” Mick chuckles, patting Angie’s head.

As if sensing the baby’s fascination, Angie sits down and gently places her head in the baby’s lap. The baby giggles, her tiny fingers brushing against the soft fur. Mick watches the interaction with a fond smile, his heart melting at the sight of his dog and baby sister bonding.

Mick then picks up a toy from the nearby pile and hands it to the baby. “Here you go, little one. Angie’s sharing her toys with you.”

The baby takes the toy, inspecting it with wide eyes before promptly attempting to shove it into Angie’s mouth. Mick chuckles softly, taking the toy from her and showing her how to play with it.

“Hey, Angie, be gentle,” Mick instructs his dog, who seems just as excited as the baby about the playtime. As Angie retrieves her own toy and lays down beside the baby, Mick joins them on the floor, ensuring the little one doesn’t get overwhelmed.

Time flies as they play together, the baby’s giggles filling the room. Mick can’t help but smile at the simple joy on her face and he finds himself falling into a gentle rhythm with her.

After a while, the baby’s eyelids start to droop and her fingers loosen their grip on the toy. Mick smiles, knowing she’s getting tired. “Looks like someone’s ready for a nap,” he whispers, carefully picking her up and cradling her in his arms.

Angie follows them as they make their way to the nursery. Mick gently lays her down in the crib, placing a soft kiss on her forehead. “Sleep tight, little one.”

As he turns to leave the room, Angie hesitates by the crib, looking back at the baby with a soft whimper. Mick chuckles, scratching behind her ears. “Don’t worry, Ang. You’ll be here when she wakes up.”

Runaway Baby

Max, face flushed, darts through the paddock, narrowly avoiding a mechanic pushing a cart of tires. “I swear I just saw her here!” he shouts, barely avoiding a collision.

Lando, holding a stuffed bear, pants as he catches up, “I turned around for a second and she was gone! How does someone so small move so fast?”

Charles is on the phone, trying to speak over the noise, “We’ve got everything under control, just ... some tiny mishaps. Nothing to worry about!”

“Tiny mishaps? Charles, that’s an understatement!” George interrupts, waving a baby bottle in his hand.

Lance, coming out of the Aston Martin garage, looks worried, “Checked the garages, no sign of her. We need a strategy guys, like an actual race strategy but without Ferrari messing it up this time.”

George chimes in, “How did we lose her? There were six of us and one of her!”

Mick looks pale, “I was showing her my dad’s old helmet and turned around for one second to put it down. Then she just toddled away while I wasn’t looking!"

Suddenly, from a distance, there’s a familiar baby giggle. They turn to see a reporter, microphone in hand, crouched down in front of a camera. Their sister sits beside him, happily babbling away, reaching out for the fuzzy microphone cover.

The reporter, clearly amused, asks, “And who do you think is going to win the race today?” The baby, enthralled with the microphone, tries to chew on it.

Lando sighs in relief, “Well, she’s got a future in media, that’s for sure.”

Charles approaches the duo, scooping up the baby and thanking the reporter. “Thanks for babysitting. You might have a new pundit here.”

The grid kids gather around, all breathing sighs of relief. Max ruffles his sister’s hair, “You gave us quite the scare, snoepje.”

“She definitely knows how to steal the spotlight,” Mick says with a chuckle.

You and Sebastian, having witnessed the chaos from afar, approach with raised eyebrows. You smirk, “You guys thought babysitting in the paddock would be easy?”

Lando grins sheepishly, “Definitely more challenging than a race, that’s for sure.”

[toppersjeep]

Where Do We Go Now- Lando Norris X Reader

A six part mini series

______

Summary: Y/N Gasly is Landos racing strategist and a reserve driver for McLaren. Her and Lando have been best friends for years ever since they both started out in F1. You’d think that being so close they would be the ones together. But Y/N has been in a relationship for years with Max Verstappen. However things aren’t always as they seem with Max and Y/N. Is there relationship perfect? Or is it strictly a business relationship?

And Lando has always had feelings for you so what will happen to your relationship when you find out the truth. Most importantly who will you decide to be with in the end?

Will it be Max?

Or

Will it be Lando ?

The choice is all yours but will you make the right decision? Or the wrong one …

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

______

[acesofspadess]

masterlist

ace radio🔊 request are open! taglist is open!

Ace Giovanelli

Ace is my OC driver, she has her own section for all things her (and her and Lando)

AG5

...at a glance

Meet AG5

how Ace is with the other drivers

the right thing to do

the Hungarian Grand Prix

It's not an F1 week without comments from Helmut

mexico GP media day

Cactus Practice

Ace and Lando play some McLaren games at the Mexico GP

Teamwork

how selfish can one really be in this sport

my birthday boy

spending Lando's birthday at the MTC didn't stop Ace

Qatar

this was supposed to be their redemption race...

All Roads Lead Here (mini- series)

Abu Dhabi has finally arrived, but that's not all this weekend will bring

FIA Awards

The final sector

Lando Norris

my angel x VS Angel!reader

'3...2...1 Walk the runway'

Charles Leclerc

Austin, baby!

Austin brings more than a birthday for Charles Leclerc

Max Verstappen

Lucky Star

Max has his lucky star in the lone star

Little Lion (AG5 universe)

Ace is Max and Kelly's best friend, it only make sense.....

Little Star

Max's lucky star just got a little brighter... (pt.2 to Lucky Star)

Carlos Sainz

Dancing with a stanger lover (carlando)

a 1-2 mean more to the trio then they let on

Oscar Piastri

private not secret

after telling Oscar you couldn't make it to the triple header, a surprise awaits him

Ships

Careful What You Wish For (Norstappen)

F1 is full of well known people, so when you aren't well known, but always around a certain two drivers, people get to digging...

[landitolover]

that’s the way i loved you

ೀ landitolover’s f1 masterlist

MAX VERSTAPPEN, 1

‎♡‧₊˚ getaway car, in which, if charles didn’t care for you, maybe a specific red bull driver he doesn’t really like, will ! ( part two of sdg )

LOGAN SARGEANT, 2

‎♡‧₊˚ feather, in which logan shoots his shot with a popstar that just got out of a longterm relationship !

LANDO NORRIS, 4

‎♡‧₊˚ not a lot, just forever, in which lando and his fiancée joke about having kids (cats), but then randomly just drop an actual pregnancy announcement !

‎♡‧₊˚ head over heels, in which he’s head over heels for the girl who always interviews him !

PIERRE GASLY, 10

‎♡‧₊˚ girls on film, in which he’s dating everyone’s favorite singer !

CHARLES LECLERC, 16

‎♡‧₊˚ say don’t go, in which he isn’t the best person to be in a relationship with.. ! (requested)

‎♡‧₊˚ ferrari’s girl, in which pedri loves to get on charles' nerves by flirting with his girlfriend.. ! (requested)

OSCAR PIASTRI, 81

‎♡‧₊˚ mini series, dulce hotline. part one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, and eight !

ೀ landitolover’s other motorsports

OLIVER BEARMAN, 8

‎♡‧₊˚ new romantics, in which everyone thinks that she’s dating her skating partner, but her actual boyfriend starts to feel a bit insecure !

LIAM LAWSON, 15

‎♡‧₊˚ this love, in which everyone adores liam and his girlfriends relationship !

MICK SCHUMACHER, 47

‎♡‧₊˚ barbie and ken, in which mick and his girlfriend are irl barbie and ken !