#WAVE Single Championship

[wrestlingmgc]

Regina di WAVE Champion Hikaru Shida

[rickybaby]

“I knew my personality would make me a fan favourite.” Daniel on the Sunday Mirror

[motorsportbarbie13]

A Package Deal

In which Lando befriends a single mom without even realizing it.

Warnings: single mom. talk of parental death (no death featured on page), lando being a judgey jerk at first, kinda? Pairing: Lando Norris x SingleMom!Reader Word Count: 5.4k words

Master List

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109 likes liked by yourdad, BFFsarah, McLaren, and others yourusername Work holiday party with my mini me! yourdad my two favorite girls! >>>yourusername thanks dad! <3

The fairy lights that stretched back and forth across the ceiling of the McLaren Technology Center sparkle down at you, a soft glow illuminating the spacious front lobby. Half a dozen 12 foot Christmas trees dot the cavernous room and tables decorated with rich red, green, and silver accents create intimate seating areas throughout. The only things indicating that the offices were home to McLaren's Formula 1 team were the seven or so F1 cars from past and present, all put on display for tonight's party.

The events team had certainly outdone themselves this year, that was for sure. If there was anything the McLaren events team went hard for every single time, it was the MTC's annual family holiday party. This year though, the entire team had extra reason to celebrate: earlier in the month, the team had brought home the Constructor's Championship for the first time in years.

"Momma, where's Aunt Sarah?" Your six year old daughter Stella asks softly, her little hand tucked securely in yours as she looks around, eyes wide in awe at all the decorations.

"I don't know, munchkin." You reply, grinning down at her. "Do you want to see if we can find her?"

Your best friend Sarah was surely already here as she was one of the heads of the events team. She'd been planning this party for months now, the added pressure from the championship win had nearly driven her mad. A quick text is answered even quicker and you lead Stella towards the massive ballroom that sits on the opposite side of the sleek modern building.

As you walk down the hall, the heels of your stilettos clicking softly, you're surprised to be hit with a wave of nostalgia. You'd been working for McLaren for almost two years now, after Sarah had given the head of product development your resume when you graduated uni with a degree in computer science and data analytics. Marshall, the man who ran the department, had offered you a job as a data analyst on the spot when you came into interview the following week. It had all felt like divine intervention, going from getting pregnant so young and having no other choice but to navigate parenthood alone to finding yourself employed within weeks of graduating. McLaren truly felt like your second home now.

"There's my Stelly Belly!" Sarah cries when she sees Stella and you walking towards her. Without a second thought, your daughter drops your hand and flings herself into the waiting arms of your best friend, one of the few adults the little girl trusts enough to open up to.

"Don't you look pretty tonight?" Sarah coos, nuzzling her head into Stella neck, eliciting a squeal and a cascade of giggles from your little girl. "And your mama looks stunning too!"

Rolling your eyes, you smooth down the front of the red satin dress you'd bought last week. "Are you sure it's not too much?"

Your brows knit together in uncertainty. Ever since having Stella at 19, your life had revolved around the little girl. Everything you did and every choice you made was made because of her and with her best interest in mind. Going to university when she was a newborn had been for her benefit and the time spent away from her while you studied and attended classes were paying off now with your secure job and hefty paycheck. But you weren't used to calling attention to yourself, totally content with working behind a computer screen in your quiet office tucked in the back of the MTC. You came to work, socialized very little, and went home to your daughter. This kind of event was very much out of your comfort zone.

"Stop that." Sarah scolds as she sets Stella down. "You look so good you're going have the mechanics breaking their necks all night long."

"Okay, that's enough." You huff.

"Momma, Sarah says there's holiday crafts over there!" Stella points vaguely towards the other side of the room. "Can we go? Please?"

"Of course, sweetheart. Let's go."

"I'll take her!" Sarah volunteers, capturing Stella's little hand in hers before giving you a look. "Go get a drink or something. Have some fun. Stelly Belly and I will go make all the crafts!"

You watch after your best friend and the other half of your heart as they scamper away, Stella's red velvet dress fluttering behind her. Somewhere deep in the pit of your stomach, a painful clenching feeling takes root. For the past six years, your entire universe has revolved around that little blonde headed girl. Even now, though you spent more time apart from Stella than you cared for because of school for her and work for you, whenever she was out of sight it felt like a bit of you was missing.

Once you see her settle at the table right next to Sarah and begin coloring something in front of her, you turn away and wander towards the open bar. If there was one thing McLaren did right at these kinds of parties, it was provide top tier food and drinks for the employees.

You order a glass of what smells like the most heavenly mulled wine you've ever encountered and find a spot away from the crowd, leaning against a pillar in the shadows of the room. You weren't used to being around so many people and while you were glad Stella seemed to be enjoying herself, you could feel your social battery already draining.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite McLaren employee." A smooth voice interrupts your anxious thoughts.

You blush into your glass of wine, knowing who it was sneaking up behind you before you even turned around. "I'm telling Oscar you said that."

Lando slips in beside you, caramel colored cashmere jumper brushing against your bare arm. "You wouldn't dare." He says, bumping your shoulder gently. You can hear the smile in his voice without even looking.

When you say you don't socialize much at work, there is always going to be one exception to that rule: Lando Norris. He had wandered into your office one day about six months ago looking for the legal department of all places. Lando had sheepishly admitted he may have accidentally signed a contract to be the spokesman for a bank in Singapore while drunk on holiday and needed to see what how mad everyone was going to be. You then had to admit you were, in fact, just a software engineer and not a solicitor and he was not, in fact, anywhere near the legal department.

An unlikely friendship had been born that day though because instead of turning around and scampering away out of sheer embarrassment, Lando had plopped himself down in the chair opposite your desk and spent nearly an hour and a half peppering you with questions about your job.

Lando liked those moments he got to slip away during his busy days at the MTC to see you. It seemed like lately, he would find himself carving out time during his day to make a special visit to your office no matter what else he had scheduled that day. He liked the way you talked to him like he was a normal person and how easily you laughed at his jokes. You never made him feel stupid or inferior for asking questions about whatever project you were working on that day and you never asked him about racing. Not once. You were also the prettiest girl he'd ever seen and he was embarrassingly addicted to making you smile.

"You look stunning tonight." Lando says in a hushed voice. "Red is your color."

Although he's next to you still, Lando manages to steal little looks at you out of the corner of his eye. The red dress you've got on tonight should be illegal and it's showing off every dip and curve of your body. You pride yourself on how well you dress at the office but tended to stick with neutral colors and classic, conservative shapes that weren't jarring and allowed you to fade into the noise of a busy office a bit. The red was totally out of character for you and Lando found himself wanting to buy you an entire closet full of colorful dresses.

Your cheeks go crimson and you're thankful for the dim lights that hide it. "Thank you."

The other thing you're not used to is attention from men. Like your social life, any semblance of a dating life had been put on the back burner when you became a single mom. You didn't much miss it, if you were bing quite honest. Spending time with Stella was better than wasting a night on a man that would only end up disappointing you.

So when someone like Lando complimented you on the dress you wore you don't quite know how to react.

"Momma! Momma, look what Auntie Sarah and I made!" Stella interrupts anything that's about to come out of Lando's mouth when she runs up brandishing what looks to be a fairy wand tied with dozens of glittery ribbons.

You crouch down, not missing the way Lando stiffens beside you, and take the plastic wand out of Stella's hand. "Is this a magic wand?" You ask, voice breathy with awe.

"Yeah! Aunt Sarah helped tie the ribbons on after I picked them. They're all glittery and match Elsa's ice queen dress."

You smile, Elsa had always been Stella's favorite Disney princess. "That is so special, Stelly Belly."

A few feet away, Sarah takes in how close you and Lando were before Stella interrupted and smirks. "Come on, Stella. I think I saw a cookie decorating contest starting over by the wands!"

You stand, eyeing your best friend. "I can take her, Sarah. I'm sure you want to mingle."

"Nope! Stay. Talk. Be merry!" Sarah's eyes bounce between you and Lando and your cheeks heat at the implication.

Beside you, Lando rubs at his jaw trying to process the information he's just learned. Momma? This girl, cute as a button, was calling you mom? He rifles through his memory, trying to think of any time you'd ever mentioned being a mom and he can't come up with a single thing. And he's pretty sure he remembers everything you've ever said to him.

"You have a daughter." Lando says it more as a statement than a question and you wince.

This was always the part where you tended to lose people. Being as young as you were, you were used to people being put off by the fact that you had a daughter. A lot of people your age weren't ready for kids yet and had a hard time figuring you out because you had such radically different priorities. Neither set of priorities was better than the other, just different.

"I do. Her name is Stella." You respond, leaning against the pillar once again. The cool marble sends shivers down your back as you prepare to lose someone who had made more of an impact on you than you realized.

"You never said anything about her." He observes, his tone unreadable.

"You never asked." You shrug, trying not to get defensive. "Her pictures are all over my office, Lan. I've never hid the fact that I have Stella."

Lando thinks back, recalling the office he's spent so much time in lately. You're right, of course. There are bits of Stella all over the place in the drawings on your desk to the school picture that sits near the spider plant close to the window. But somehow Lando had never noticed anything else other than you.

He rubs at the back of his neck, "I guess I just assumed she was your niece or something."

"Nope. She's all mine."

"And her dad?" The moment the question slips from Lando's mouth, he regrets it. His eyes shutter closed but not before he catches a glimpse of the way you flinch.

He hates himself for thinking he deserves to be privy to this information. For being so bold as to ask for the sordid details of your life when all you are to each other is a casual work flirtation. He hates himself for implying that you'd ever flirt with him when there was someone else in the picture. Or worse, that you now have to relive a painful story behind why there wasn't.

"You don't have to answer that." God, he was so good at speaking before thinking, wasn't he? It had gotten him into so much hot water with the press this year during the championship run and here he was again, putting his foot in his mouth like an idiot.

"It's fine." You sigh, knowing that anyone who wants to be in your life is going to have to hear the story at some point. You just hadn't anticipated it happening with Lando, having been perfectly content with the safety of your innocent work flirtation.

"I had Stella when I was 19, her dad was killed in a car accident when she was eight months old. She turned six in September.”

The silence that stretches between you is heavy, clashing with the light and festive mood that swirls around you.

"Christ. I'm sorry, love."

You hate how painful that tugging sensation on your heart is when Lando calls you 'love'.

Shrugging, you hope you feign nonchalance well enough to fool him. You know it doesn’t.

“Listen, I should go check on Sarah and Stella, make sure Stella doesn't sweet talk Sarah into a puppy or something. Those two together is how I ended up with a kitten last year."

The brightness in your voice is all for show but Lando sees right through it.

You're gone before he can get a word in though.

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102 likes liked by BFFsarah, yourdad, yoursister, and others yourusername Quick trip into London for some last minute pressies! yourdad I'm a size Rolex in silver and gold please! >>>yourusername Ha Ha Ha, very funny father BFFsarah Brave brave girl! >>>yourusername brave or stupid, you decide!!!

"Come on, sweet girl, let's find your Papa a Christmas present so we can get out of this mad house."

You tug at Stella's hand, who was currently practically drooling over a display of sparkly gold and diamond jewelry in Harrods jewelry department. Around you, crowds swirl and people jostle each other as they all hustle to pick out their precious gifts before Santa's big night. Why you had chosen to come into London the weekend before Christmas was a mystery, but you were fully convinced that you had lost it when you had agreed to come to Harrods at Stella's request.

"But this necklace is so pretty, Momma!" Stella whines, eyes dragging over the diamond necklace on display in front of her.

"Yes, I know but I don't think your grandpa wants a diamond necklace for Christmas. Let's go up to the fifth floor where the kitchen gadgets are! You know how much he loves to cook!"

Stella rolls her eyes, which you choose to ignore. For all of her attitude today, Stella wasn't usually an ornery child. She was very well behaved and quite reserved so you gave her extra grace when it was crowded and loud like this. You knew she got overstimulated easily, just like you did.

"Fine." She sighs, casting one last longing look at the display. "Maybe Santa will bring me the necklace." She mutters and you have to tamp down a laugh.

You take Stella's hand in yours, despite her giving you another look of contempt. She was much too big of a girl to be holding her mother's hand, thank you very much. You ignored the glare and squeezed at your daughter's hand, knowing that she's not really angry at you.

Up on the fifth floor, the homewares section is significantly quieter than where you just were. Stella spots a display of colorful Kitchen Aid mixers that she scampers over to while you wander over to the espresso machines while reminding her to stick close. Out of the corner of your eye, you keep watch over her while debating the merits of different coffee machines.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite McLaren employee out in the wild." A velvety smooth voice sends familiar shivers down your spine.

"Favorite? You've been avoiding me since the holiday party." You quip without taking your eyes off the silver machine in front of you, knowing exactly who it is beside you without even looking.

Ever since the holiday party nearly two weeks ago, you hand't seen Lando at all despite knowing that he was at the MTC at least a few days. You hated that you knew that most of that time he had been out of the country, skiing in France then golfing in Spain. You also hated that you kept track of the amount of times you had known he was in Woking at the MTC and hadn't even bothered to stop in and say 'hi' to you.

Lando's hand rubs at the back of his neck. "I know. I'm sorry." His voice is low, tinged with guilt.

"Listen, it's fine." You turn to face him for the first time and your traitorous heart thuds a little harder in your chest. That mullet you teased him about so much at first had really grown on you and boy did it look good today.

"It's not like we're friends, Lando." You don't work as hard as you probably should to keep the frustration out of your voice. "You don't owe me anything and it's the off season for you. I shouldn't have said anything."

Lando frowns at you, confusion knitting his brow together. "We...we aren’t friends?" The hurt in his voice was unmistakable, tugging painfully at something in the pit of your stomach.

Your eyes shutter close at the look on his face. Lando might play the lovable goofball for the public and in the press but you knew better. You knew that he was a pretty big softie at heart and you immediately regretted your words, knowing that they would have struck him deep.

"What was I supposed to think, Lan? You seemed pretty put off when you found out about Stella and then you just..." You pause, unsure of where this anger was coming from. You hadn't really realized how hurt you had bene by his sudden ghosting until this very moment. "You just sort of disappeared. It's fine. I'm totally used to it."

The vulnerability in your voice makes Lando's heart clench painfully. He had been spooked initially about you having a daughter and he knew his reaction probably left a lot to be desired. He just had been so blindsided by the appearance of your little girl that night that he hadn't handled it well. Lando had been unwilling to admit before that night during the holiday party that he had been becoming more and more attached to you and he didn't know where Stella fell into place between you and him. It scared him, adding an entirely new layer to the budding friendship that you two had struck up. A friendship that he had been wanting to see if it could have progressed into more but now...now he didn't know.

"Momma, can we get Papa a mixer so he can make me more cakes next year?" Stella's small voice interrupts that awkward silence that had fallen between you and Lando.

You can't help the chuckle that leaves your lips despite yourself. "Stella, I don't think that's a very good reason to gift someone something."

"I don't know, sounds like solid reasoning to me." Lando chimes in, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he looks down at Stella. "Hi, I'm Lando." He crouches down so he's eye level with your daughter.

"That's a funny name." Stella regards Lando with a suspicious look. Stella is a quiet little mouse of a child most of the time and doesn't easily trust adults. There are very few people she's comfortable which is why her comment catches you off guard.

"Stella!" You scold, face going crimson at the lack of filter on her.

To your relief, Lando just chuckles. "I guess you're right, it is kind of a funny name. But I think Stella is a funny name too."

Stella' narrows her eyes but then she seems to realize he's just teasing her and she smiles. "I like you." She declares simply, as if deciding to be Lando's friend is the easiest thing in the world.

A fact that you already know is true.

"I'm hungry. Can we go get dinner now?" Stella turns back to you now and you startle a bit when you realize what time it is.

"Let me take you two to dinner. There's a place down the street that has some of the best chicken nuggets in all of England." Lando's offer throws you off for a moment you're so surprised. "As an apology for making you question our friendship."

Stella gasps as if that is the most exciting suggestion she's ever heard in her life. Your stomach does a quick swoop at spending more time with the driver outside of the office. You are a bit hesitant, pride still stinging from when he ignored you after the holiday party, but Stella looks so excited you find yourself nodding.

Twenty minutes and one espresso machine later, you have the giant package shipped off to your house before walking towards a cozy pub that Lando suggests. It's strange to you, walking down the crowded streets with Stella tucked between you and Lando, listening to her prattle away. Once in a while, Lando shoots you a look over the top of your daughter's head that is all amusement and happiness.

Meanwhile, you're reduced to silence, listening in awe to Stella's babbling. She has always been a reserved little girl, following in her mother's footsteps of being an introvert. She doesn't open up to just anyone and even when she does find an adult she likes, it takes her quite a bit of time to talk to them the way she's talking to Lando as he navigates the three of you towards your destination.

Around you, people bustle up and down the sidewalk, the streets of London an absolute hive of activity and it's a bit overwhelming. You're momentarily worried about Stella, knowing she doesn't do very good in crowds just like you but then something catches your eye that has your heart leaping into your throat. Captured in Lando's large hand is Stella's tiny one, a silent gesture of affection from your six-year-old. The way your chest squeezes at the sight has tears pricking at the corner of your eyes.

Lando catches the look on your face, full of awe and something else he can't quite place, and when your gaze snags on his moments later he gives you a dazzling smile. When Stella had reached out to take Lando's hand a few blocks ago, he had panicked a bit. He wasn't too experienced with kids, his niece’s being much younger than Stella, but he felt something deep in his chest that told him when the little girl beside him reached for his hand, it was a sincere sign of trust from her.

"Here we are." Lando says once you're safely across the road. "I hope you're ready for the best chicken nuggets in all of London."

Dinner is a loud affair, Stella peppering questions left and right to Lando and Lando expertly fielding them. He even gets some questions in edgewise and has both you and Stella laughing the entire meal. It's the most relaxed Lando's seen you the entire time he's known you. Despite his initial reservations at spending time with someone who has a child, he finds himself not wanting the evening to end. He's never been so thankful for last minute gift requests in his entire life.

Your bellies are full when you spill out onto the sidewalk, the chilly London air biting at your cheeks. It was going to be a cold train ride home. You reach into your tote bag to pull out a scarf and hat, tugging both on Stella despite her yowls of displeasure.

"Stella." You sigh, finally getting her to leave her hat on her head after a tense few moments as Lando watched on, smile sitting at the edge of his lips. "Come on, it's cold tonight and you know the train isn't much better."

"Train?" Lando asks, frown appearing on his face.

"We took the train into the city today. Someone wanted an adventure." You look pointedly at your daughter, who just shrugs, totally unfazed by the chilly evening air.

"That's like, a forty-five minute trip! On the train? At night? Alone?"

Something twists in Lando's stomach at the thought of you and Stella all alone on the train at night. He knows the trains are, objectively, safe and you'd probably be fine but it just doesn't sit right with him knowing that he'd have to leave both of you at a train station unable to be with you in case something happened.

"I know." You breathe, knowing that the moment Stella sits down on the train she's going to be out like a light and you're going to have a very grumpy six-year-old on your hands on the other end of the line. "I don't have a choice, I'm not ordering an Uber home. It'll be fine, Lando. We do this all the time."

The thought of you navigating the crowded train alone with the tiny wisp of a girl that tucked her hand back into his as soon as she got close enough to him hurts a surprising amount. It's a jarring feeling, one that he's totally unprepared for. His memory darts back to the night he found out you had a daughter. He thought for sure the budding chemistry between you would fizzle out. He had thought that he wasn't interested in getting involved with someone who had a child because it complicated things to a degree he wasn't sure he was ready for. He still struggled with looking after himself successfully sometimes. Dating someone with a child? Up until this very moment, Lando thought that was completely off the table.

"You're not taking the train home. I'll drive you." Lando's voice has an edge of finality in it that tells you this is going to be a fight, one that you're not sure you're prepared to fight.

You blink up at him, unable to form a response for several moments. Beside you, Stella cheers. "Yes! No boring train!"

"Woah, slow down." You warn, shaking your head. "Lando, I appreciate the offer but we can't." Stella looks absolutely crestfallen next to you as she yanks her hand out of Lando's grasp and crosses her arms over her chest.

"Why not?" Lando's frown mirrors Stella's and you nearly laugh.

Beside the fact that he couldn't stand the thought of you on the train by yourself with Stella this late at night, Lando didn't really want the night to end. He had sat across from you at dinner and there were several moments while Stella chattered on that he caught your gaze and you had given him the most prettiest smile he'd ever seen.

"Well, for one, Stella needs a booster seat to ride in a car and I don't think those come standard in Ferrari's or McLaren's."

"For the record, I drove my Range Rover into the city." Lando retorts before glancing around the crowded city street. "Look! There's a Mamas & Papas across the street! That's where my brother got my niece’s carseat a few months ago. I'm sure they sell booster seats too."

You can't help but stare at Lando, a bit dumbfounded. When you had started getting to know the driver months ago, you had what you had thought was a pretty accurate idea of who he was off the track: young, sinfully good looking, deeply unserious, and only interested in partying and having a good time. But voluntarily spending an evening with you and your daughter? Offering to buy Stella a booster so he could drive you home? The way Lando surprised you in that moment had you swaying on your feet a bit.

"Can we, Momma? Please! I want to drive home with Lando!"

There are two sets of big puppy dog eyes turned on you and you find yourself tossing your hands up in the air in defeat. "That's not fair! You two can't team up against me!"

Lando looks down at Stella, mischievous grin overtaking his handsome face. "I think we won, Stelly Belly." He shout-whispers, eyes sliding over to you, giving you a wink.

"You two are going to be trouble together, aren't you?" Is the last thing you say before Lando grabs your hand and drags you towards the shop to buy your daughter a booster seat.

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[snoopyracing]

it’ll pass // mv33

pairing: max verstappen X engineer!reader

word count: 18.5k

warnings: cursing and alcohol use. this is about the 2024 season and while i tried to make things as accurate as possible some things are tweaked for the storyline. so just read for the vibes and not biblically accurate season info :)

includes: right person wrong time, childhood friends, hidden relationship, a little friends to lovers, and ANGST

summary: when you think you've finally gotten everything you want in life... it goes and shows you just how unfair it can be.

playlist for the fic: apple music | spotify

masterlist

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Not many children are certain on what they want to be when they grow up, especially at age nine, but you were an exception. Sure – millions of children say they are going to be a veterinarian or a doctor when they grow up, but how many of them actually end up being that? Life happens, plans change, and reality sets in for the majority of Earth’s population. Although you never planned on any of that happening to you. There was never a doubt in your mind that you were going to be anything other than a race car driver, but even the most determined and strong willed people get dealt a shit hand at some point in their life.  

You’d been surrounded by racing your whole life – a perk of your Dad being a successful rally car driver. The sound of the engines and the smell of the exhaust were ingrained into your brain by age five. You were a wild child, a thrill seeker and definitely your Father’s child according to your Mother, but you knew even if your Dad wasn’t a racer that you would have still found yourself drawn to racing one way or another. For a good chunk of your early childhood you claimed to want to be a rally driver like your Dad, much to your Mom’s dismay, but that all changed when you attended your first Formula 1 race.

F1 wasn’t a foreign concept to you, your family watched and attended lots of different kinds of racing, but you’d never been to an actual Formula 1 race before. The atmosphere was completely different to anything you’d ever experienced and watching it on TV was nothing compared to seeing it in real life. You were enthralled by the sounds and hustle and bustle of everything. Not to mention how fast the cars actually were. The little adrenaline junkie in you was on cloud nine and by the time the checkered flag was waved and the car crossed the finish line you knew you wanted to be the one driving it. 

Luckily being brought up in a motosports family meant you somewhat had an upper hand. You were blessed to have the finances to start karting and not to mention a very long list of connections. And sure having all these things help you, but you’ve still got to have the talent. Which in your case was never an issue. You were a menace on the track, a force not to be reckoned with, and your Dad taught you not to take any shit from any of the insecure little boys. Trophies and medals lined your walls and there was never a doubt in your mind that you couldn’t make it to the top, that was until you got older. 

As your brain developed more so did your understanding that a lot of people and your competitors didn’t think women belonged in racing. Sure when you were younger some of the boys teased you, but it was never anything that bothered you much. It wasn’t until you were around fifteen and looking to move over to single seater racing that you faced your first real case of self doubt. Even with you being one of the best drivers in your division you still had to work ten times harder than the worst male driver to prove to everyone that you were worthy to be there. It was exhausting to constantly be ridiculed, to hear people say you only had gotten this far because of who your Dad was. It amazed you how you had won all these championships and races and people still didn’t think you had the raw talent that you so clearly possessed. 

Even with spells of self doubt and days where it felt like the world was against you, you’d somehow made it to Formula 2. That Formula 1 seat that you’d dreamt about since a child was almost in your grasp and you were more determined now than ever to prove that you were one of the 20 best drivers in the world. You knew that this season was your make or break, if you didn’t put in 110% then what were you even doing here? You needed to make a statement, but even the most astronomical statement couldn’t help the fact that your fate was decided when you were born a female. 

It didn’t matter that you had won basically every championship in the previous feeder series or that you were clearly on your way to win the F2 championship. It didn’t matter if people claimed that you were the future of Formula 1 or if Susie Wolff was your mentor. It didn’t matter that you had meetings with just about every F1 team about the possibility of a seat next year or that you had a well known last name. None of it mattered because at the end of the day no one was actually ready to sign a woman as a driver. Sure, they’d string you along and give you the false hope of somewhat talking about a contract and then go and sign a driver who you could lap with your eyes closed. Sometimes you just thought they liked the publicity that the team got from the news of you being in talks with them and couldn’t care less about actually giving you the time of day.

Finally accepting that you weren’t going to get a seat in Formula 1 was a devastating out of body experience. You were sat in an uncomfortable chair in between Susie and your Dad as they tried to bargain you a seat at Williams. Although it wasn’t your first choice, you had thought and prayed that with a female CEO and Susie having ties there that Williams would be your saving grace. It was your last option at this point and as you sat there their voices became background noise and the longer you studied Claire’s body language you knew this was the end. You had zoned out, your fingers bloody from subconsciously picking at the skin around your nails as your mind wandered to a place that wasn’t this meeting. 

Ever so often you’d hear a statement from one of them and it only made you more catatonic. 

“She’s in a league of her own, Claire. I mean she’s a million times better than I ever was as a driver.” 

“Her stats alone should tell you everything you need to know. She’s more qualified than the drivers you’ve got right now. I can tell you that.” 

It’s what comes out of Claire’s mouth next that brings you back to reality and what also seals your fate. “We could offer you being a development driver like Susie was or possibly a reserve.” 

Your eyes focus on her as you sit up in your chair. “I don’t want to be a development driver or a reserve driver. I want to be in the car every race weekend. I want to be an actual driver and I know I’m more than qualified to be one.” 

You can feel your Dad and Susie’s eyes on you, surprised at your sudden brashness, yet they didn’t reprimand you. Both of them knew you deserved better than what you were getting dealt. You watch as Claire clasps her hands together and a tight lipped expression forms across her face. “I hate to say this, but we just can’t afford to take the risk.” 

“The risk?” You question, fully knowing what that risk is. 

She clears her throat, her eyes darting from Susie to your Dad and then finally landing back on you. “Yes you have talent, but we can’t take the risk as a team right now to sign a female driver. We are barely holding on the way it is and signing a female– it just– we can’t be the team to experiment with that right now, no matter how good you are. I’m sorry.” 

“So a woman can run a racing team, but just can’t drive for one? Got it.” You’re trying to be professional, but you’d already heard that sorry excuse so many times before and your dreams were literally getting crushed right in front of you, so who can blame you for being a little shitty.

“It’s not just me making this decision Y/N. There’s a million other factors and people that go into this decision. If it could be different I promise it would be.” The strained look on Claire’s face does nothing to ease the ache in your chest, if anything it makes it worse

There’s an awkward silence that fills the room and you want nothing more than to be out of this suffocating room. Your emotions are starting to bubble over and the last thing you want is for someone to spot you looking less than thrilled. In society a man is allowed to react and a woman can only overreact. There’s been countless times where your quote on quote emotions after a difficult race are used against you in an attempt to prove you shouldn’t be racing. 

The wooden legs of your chair screech across the floor as you get up and even though you don’t want to, you reach your hand out towards Claire. “Thank you for your time, it was nice talking with you.” 

“My offer still stands. I think it would be wise to think it over.” Her grip on your hand is firm as she speaks, but it does nothing to change your mind. 

You give her one last thank you before swiftly exiting the room and making your way out of the building. It’s not until you’re in the safety of the blacked out SUV that you finally let yourself fully feel your emotions. And once the first tear falls there’s no stopping the ones that come after. You’re angry that even with the talent you so clearly possess, no one will give you a chance. That you’d worked this hard, gave up your childhood and the possibility of having a normal one to do this. Spent hours, days, months training and being away from home just to get to this spot in your life. Your one dream in life was almost in your grasp, your fingertips could brush against it, that’s how close it was. Yet on a sunny afternoon on a random Monday it was ripped away from you.   

Sobs echo through the empty car and you’d never felt more hopeless than you do right now. You spot your Dad talking with Susie outside the building and a short minute later he’s walking towards the car. You try to pull yourself together, you don’t want your Dad to see you like this, but when he gets into the driver's seat you lose it all over again. You somehow feel like you’ve let your Dad down, he’s been your biggest supporter during this whole journey and you not getting a seat felt like the equivalent of you being the worst child ever.

Your Dad couldn’t be more proud of you though, he’d never seen someone work so hard to accomplish their dreams and he was always going to be in your corner no matter what happened. His heart breaks when he gets into the car and sees you so upset and defeated, he’s half tempted to march back in there and demand that they sign you. But right now he knows you need him more than anything. He reaches over the center console and pulls you into him the best he can. His little girl deserved so much better than what you had been dealt and he only wished he could take that hurt you were feeling right now away from you. 

“Darling I know this hurts right now. If I could, I’d make a whole racing team from scratch just so you could fulfill your dreams, but this isn’t the end for you. Maybe you could try different kinds of racing? Indycar? Endurance? Maybe follow in your old man's footsteps?” His hand gently rubs against your arm as you sniffle into his chest. “You never know, maybe if you take the reserve spot you could get a seat the following year.” 

You lift your head up, your eyes bloodshot as you make eye contact with him. “Dad, we both know that's not true. They’d just string me along.” You lean back into the leather seat as you close your eyes, already feeling a headache coming on. “I know life isn’t fair, but this is some cruel level of unfairness. I wish I had been born a boy because I know I would not be in this situation right now if I was.”

“You’re correct, if you were a boy you wouldn’t be in this situation right now. But that is only because you wouldn’t be half the racer you are as a guy. You’ve gotten this far and you’ve got the talent you do because of who you are and that includes being a woman. I like to take credit for your skills, but honey all your will power and strength and smarts and hell just about everything else you get from your Mother. The guts to be in love with dangerous racing I will take credit for though.“ He tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear before resting his hand on the side of your face, gently wiping away your tears. “Listen, people may be blind and ignorant now, but when they finally realize just how good women can be in motorsports and stop being pussies and take that risk, they are going to regret waiting so long.” 

His words do nothing to calm the raging storm in your mind. “I know, but I wanted to be that person. I wanted that realization to happen now. I worked so hard and what did I get in return? To be passed over by someone who’s absolute shit? It hurts so bad.” 

His hands reach back over to yours, enveloping your much smaller ones in his as he tries to comfort you in any way he can. “That feeling will pass. It hurts now, but it’ll pass. I promise you.” 

The feeling never truly passes. 

You learn to deal with it, trying to find the positives in life, but the ache is still there. It's like a bad knee that hurts when it’s cold outside. It’s not there all the time, but certain moments take you back to that awful day. It hurts when you win the F2 championship and still don’t have a seat in F1. It hurts when interviewers ask you about what your future holds. It hurts when you see people you raced with as a kid be that one of twenty that you want to be so bad. 

Once the F2 season ends you honestly have no idea what you are planning on doing with your life. You really don’t want to dabble in other forms of racing, but you know if you take a year off your chances of getting that golden seat become even more slim. 

It’s not until the FIA Gala that you come to the conclusion that maybe you should take up the offer of being a reserve driver. You know you’re going against every word you’ve previously said and every stubborn bone in your body doesn’t want you to do this, but there’s nothing you want more than to be a Formula 1 driver. And if there is even a .1% chance that you could get that seat by doing a year as a reserve first, then you’d be dumb to not try. You know all the odds are against you and maybe you’re betting on a losing dog, but you needed to at least believe in yourself if no one else was. It’s a choice that you’ve mulled over for what seems like an eternity, but it’s a certain Dutch driver that makes you take the final leap off the edge. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You’ve known Max since you were kids in karting. The two of you were pretty close friends as kids, often seen attached at the hip around the track during race weekends. He’d found solace with you and your family, something that looking back now, you were glad to have been able to give him. He was the only other person who you truly considered competition back in those days. It was always a fun time when you raced against Max, mainly because he treated you like an equal, but also never downplayed your talent. He knew you were good and he expressed that many times– something that meant a lot to you back then and still does today.

As you two got older your friendship started to fade for no reason other than taking different paths. When he skipped F2 and went straight into F1 you were pissed, but he had the talent, you couldn’t deny that. You’d sometimes see him on weekends when F1 and F2 raced together, a few short words spoken in passing, but it was never like the old days. Your lives didn’t necessarily coincide anymore, he was making waves as the youngest F1 driver to exist and you were stuck in F2. So when he approached you at the Gala you were surprised. 

You’d been playing good racing driver and making small talk all night, talking to sponsors and random rich men who loved to hear  themselves talk. You’d finally escaped the tortuous sea of networking and found yourself at a somewhat secluded table with a flute of champagne in front of you. You hadn’t been at the table for very long  before you heard a familiar Dutch accent coming from behind you. 

“Is this seat taken?” 

You turned to see the one and only Max Verstappen standing there with his hand on the back of the seat next to you. Your eyes scanned across the white linen tablecloth to the several empty chairs surrounding the table and then back to Max. “I think they all might be spoken for, but I’m sure they can find another table to sit at.” He lets out a little chuckle as he sits down and you notice him fidgeting with his tie, clearly trying to loosen it. “It’s weird seeing you in anything other than your race suit or team kit.” 

His movements halt as his eyes comb over you and it makes you squirm slightly in your seat. “Could say the same about you.” 

He’s not wrong though, the dress you’ve picked out for tonight is nothing shy of stunning, but it’s not you. You always felt like these events were a form of torture more than anything and having to get all dressed up was just the cherry on top. 

“I saw that you had a good season.” You state before taking a sip of your champagne. 

Max’s eyebrows raise in surprise towards you, like you’ve just said the craziest thing. “I don’t think we should be talking about my season when you’ve just won a championship.” 

You lean back in your seat, crossing your legs as you adjust your dress. “It’s only an F2 championship Max.” There’s still a part of you that’s slightly bitter about him leaving you behind and you wonder what this night would be like if you were an F1 driver like him. 

“It still means something.” His baby blue eyes narrowed at you as he spoke. 

The remaining champagne in your glass is gone in seconds, this isn’t where you wanted this conversation to end up, but somehow you knew it was inevitable. “It doesn’t mean much if it can’t even grant me that seat I want. I won that championship basically halfway through the season, but can’t get anyone to offer me anything higher than a reserve driver. How does that mean anything?” 

Max shifts in his seat, he knows this is a sensitive subject to you and he knows what he’s about ready to tell you will probably get him slapped, but he has to at least try. 

“It could mean something and I came over here to talk to you about it.” Your eyebrows furrow at his words, confused as to what he could possibly mean. “I want you as my teammate.” 

You can’t help but laugh slightly at him, the Dutchman had clearly had one too many glasses of champagne tonight. “Did you think to express that to Red Bull before I had that world shortest meeting with them months ago? We all have dreams Max and yours is nice, but it’s a pipe dream.”

He shakes his head and scoots his chair closer to you. “It’s not a dream. It can happen. The team wanted to see how the rest of your season played out, but they for sure want you now.” 

“Where is Daniel going then?” A waiter comes past and you snatch another flute of champagne off of their tray. “And why is this not being discussed in a formal meeting setting?” 

“The team thought you might be more willing if you heard about this from someone you knew pretty well first. You know I’ve always been in your corner.” Max knows this is where the conversation will either go south or you’ll hear him out and he fears the latter isn’t the most likely scenario. “ And Daniel isn’t going anywhere” 

It takes you a moment to understand what Max’s words mean, your glass of champagne hovers near your lips as you slowly realize what he’s insinuating. And this time you actually do laugh at him because how could he think that after your disgruntled conversation just moments ago that you would want the one thing you were dissatisfied with? 

“Max, you've got to be kidding me.” You feel like this is one big prank and your tone is more defeated than upset at this point. 

Max on the other hand is trying to figure out how to convince you that this is your best option without making you throw that glass of champagne in his face. “Just hear me out ok? I know being a reserve is the last thing you want, but I also know that you’re one of the best drivers out there right now. And yes– you should have that seat already and it sucks that they are making you jump through so many hoops, but I’m trying to help you out in any way I can. So please just take Red Bull’s offer. You’d be a reserve for a year and then when Daniel’s contract is up at the end of the season you’d be the number one contender for his spot.” The only thing you can find yourself to do is blankly stare at him. It’s not a guarantee that you would be getting Daniel’s spot, you’d just be a contender and to you that means you would be just used for headlines and never actually considered. 

“You really think this is the best thing for me?” 

A sigh escapes past his lips, he should have known this wouldn’t be as easy as he hoped. “What are you really going to do if you don’t take this offer? You can’t do another season in F2. I mean, you’re driving laps around these guys for fun. You’re wasting your talent here and you’re also wasting it by being so determined to not take this opportunity.” 

Your arms defensively cross over your chest and you want what he’s saying to not make sense, but it is and it’s making you even more irritated. “I could seek out other forms of racing.” 

Max can’t help but roll his eyes at how stubborn you’re being. “You won’t though. You love rallying and yes it’s in your blood, but you lack the experience that you need. Endurance just isn’t you. Indycar is the closest thing to F1, but at the end of the day it’s not Formula 1, so I know you won’t actually seek it out. F1 is what you want Y/N and I’m trying to help you get there.” 

You know what he’s saying is true and it’s a tough pill to swallow, but you still can’t bring yourself to actually accept that this is your best and to be frank your only option at this point. Max can see the gears turning in your head, your teeth chewing on your bottom lip. “Y/N.” He’s trying to get you out of your head and bring you back to him. His hand reaches out and gently lands on your knee and that simple action has your eyes focusing back on his blue ones. 

“How do you know for sure? How do you know that I’ll actually be considered for Daniel’s seat?”  

A heavy sigh comes from Max and you know he’s not going to say what you want to hear. “I don’t. You know the racing world –  just because something is said doesn’t mean it’s true, but there’s a high probability. And I think if there’s even a slim chance and you don’t take it then you’d be dumb. You know I’ll always be in your corner and I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted you as my teammate.” 

You still don’t know what to say to him, you’re torn between staying true to your values and not taking anything less than what you deserve and realizing that you may have to accept that this is the only way to even get close to your dream. “Stop making the guys in F2 cry and come join Red Bull, please.” 

A small smile finds its way onto your face when you realize Max is recalling all the boys you used to make cry when you beat them when you were kids. 

“Think you’re the only one I haven’t made cry yet, Verstappen.” 

Max mirrors your smile, the memories of old karting days also replaying in his mind. “Don’t see it happening anytime soon either.” A small chuckle escapes past his lips as he speaks. 

The atmosphere between you two had lightened and as you stare at the smiling Dutchman in front of you there’s really only one thing you can say to him. 

“I’ll think about it.” 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

After much deliberation, a handful of meetings, and finally accepting that this was unfortunately your best option, you found yourself dressed in a Red Bull team kit three months later in Australia. 

Being a reserve driver was not where you expected to be right now, but you were trying to be more positive about the situation. If it wasn’t for Max you’d probably be sitting at home wallowing in self pity. At least with being a reserve you get to still be around the one thing you love. It was tough though, to be a part of the race weekend, but not actually be able to race. You’re in the team meetings, you occasionally do media, you train like a driver– you do everything that a driver would do on a race weekend except actually drive the car. You sometimes feel like you’re just being taunted, like an animal with a treat just out of its reach. It's hard mentally sometimes, but you push through with the help of a therapist and the hope that this suffering now will be worth it in the end. 

Being a reserve meant you spent basically all of your time on race weekends in the garage. It wasn’t a foreign place to you by any means, but you’d never really been in the garage while the race was happening. You were more accustomed to being the one out on the track and not in here, but you’d grown to love the behind the scenes work. The one thing in particular was the role of race engineer. You were very familiar with them, your own engineer had been with you all through Formula 3 and 2 and you had fully planned on taking them with you into F1 if it was possible. The bond between racer and engineer is a special one, you’ve got to have the utmost trust with one another, know how eachother thinks and trust that they are doing everything in their power to help you. It sounds a little dramatic, but truly what is a racer without their engineer? 

Throughout the season you’d found yourself lingering more and more around the engineers. The occasional times where GP let you sit on the pit wall during practice sessions or qualifying you found yourself glued to the seat next to him. To see how effortlessly Max and him communicate and the level of trust is amazing. It’s a completely different atmosphere and there’s somehow a calm adrenaline that comes over you when you’re on that pitwall. GP makes it look like a piece of cake— looking at data, having multiple people in your ear at once, thinking about strategy. It sounds like a nightmare to some, but you grow to love it. The analytics make the gears in your head turn and the little racing nerd in you can’t seem to get enough. 

You seem to be focusing more on the engineering side of things more than racing at a certain point in the season and maybe it’s because subconsciously you know you aren’t going to get Daniel’s seat so you’re trying to distract yourself with something else. There are some moments during the season that give you hope that perhaps you will be considered, like the couple times you get to drive Max’s car in FP1. That hour you get where it’s just you, the car, and the track in front of you makes you realize why you fell in love with this sport to begin with. It’s just that when that hour is up you’re brought back to reality and you don’t want to get out of the car, but the proud look on Max’s face and his insistent rambling about how it was a no brainer that you finished with the fastest time each session made it a little easier. 

But even with the slivers of hope, Max constantly advocating for you, and not to mention just your raw talent– the team still decides to go with someone else. They don’t come right out and tell you, but you hear the whispers around the paddock and online that Pierre Gasley is who they want. Your name is barely mentioned in talks and when the announcement finally happens at the end of the season you aren’t even surprised. In all honesty yes it hurts, but you knew when you signed that contract that there was the tiniest chance that you’d get that seat and so throughout the season you built your walls up and prepared yourself for the inevitable. 

If it was even possible Max seemed more upset than you about it, but when you tell him over winter break about the other deal you struck he seems to forget all about how you once again had been wronged. Somehow by not getting a racing contract you managed to sign a different one. It was a long depressing month during the end of the season of coming to terms with the fact that your racing career very well may never go any further than F2, but you’d realized that you can still experience your love of racing, just differently, by becoming an engineer. You’d fallen in love with the behind the scenes work during your year as a reserve and GP had somewhat taken you under his wing.

So when the two of you had an actual conversation about you possibly taking the steps to become one it just seemed to click. You’d signed a contract alright, but it wasn’t the one you’d imagined to be signing. The little girl with a dream of being nothing other than a race car driver couldn’t believe that this is where she was headed, but here you were. You were no longer Red Bull Racing reserve driver, you were now a Red Bull Racing apprentice engineer. Even with your knowledge from being a racer for some time, you’d still need to go to school and you somehow managed going to school while working under GP. How you managed that work load you’ll never know. 

Max was thrilled that you two still got to work together and was proud that you’d seeked out a new path for yourself. He’d still be holding out hope that one day you’d get to be teammates, but for now he couldn’t be more happy for you. Especially because you seemed happy with how your life was turning out. 

As the years pass you only grow closer with Max. It’s like you’re joined at the hip sometimes, but you come to realize there’s no one else you’d want to spend the majority of your year with. It feels like your old karting days, he gets you and you get him and for you two that’s just enough. You’re there for his first WDC and you don’t think you’d cried as much as you did then, seeing the boy you raced with as a kid win such a prestigious title. But you also cried for yourself, because as much as you were so proud of Max, you couldn’t help but still mourn the fact that it could have been and should have eventually been you winning a championship. It stings a little less when he wins his second, but that’s mostly because you got so drunk you couldn’t really remember much of it. When you graduate with your degree in engineering Max is there cheering you on, dressed in something other than his team kit for once. You don’t remember much from that night either, but you can’t seem to forget how genuinely proud he seemed of you and how he couldn’t seem to be anyplace other than right next to you. 

The following year with a degree and years of experience now under your belt you get a promotion, mainly because GP got poached by another team for the following season. So for the 2023 season that is truly an iconic one for Max you’re practically his race engineer, but GP is still there right next to you offering his knowledge when needed. 

When it’s finally official that you’ll be taking over the role as Max’s race engineer in 2024 the news is mostly positive, but of course there are some people that think you couldn’t possibly be capable of taking on the role. That a three time worlds champion shouldn’t have a woman as an engineer, let alone one that was around the same age as him. It was funny truly, you were more than qualified to be an engineer. You’d done the schooling and had the experience, yet once again because you were a woman people thought you didn’t deserve the job. 

Max on the other hand was ecstatic that you’d be filling GP’s shoes. He’d had a good run with him, but he couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t sure that you two would make an incredible duo. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“So maybe this wasn’t how I’d imagined us being teammates, but I did tell you I wanted us to be teammates didn’t I? And I think it’s safe to say I always get what I want.” Max stated as the two of you tried to hide in the corner of this end of season/Max's WDC party/your promotion party. Well technically it was Max’s WDC party, but of course he had to bring you into it and show his appreciation to the team as always. 

He’s clearly had one too many gin and tonics and the goofy smile on his face only got wider as he spoke.

“Cocky much huh? I think that third championship is getting to you.”  

He leaned in closer to you and those pretty baby blues narrowed in on you. “Well when we get my fourth title next year I’ll show you just how cocky I can be.” That was gin and tonic talking and you knew it was time for Max to retire for the night. 

“Alright champ. Think it might be time to call it a night.” Your hand wraps around his bicep to try and guide him towards the exit, but he’s a solid man and he doesn’t even budge. 

“No, it's still early! We haven’t even begun to celebrate you yet!” He’s being loud and pouty and all up in your personal space, classic signs of drunk Max. And truth be told you don’t want the attention on you whatsoever, hence you hiding in the corner. Which of course Max had invaded as soon as he could.  “Come on just one more drink?” 

You know one more drink is never just one more, but for whatever reason tonight you can’t tell him no. And so hours later when you’re both making your way down the fancy hotel hallway towards his room you don’t even recall wanting to leave early. Both of you tipsy are always giggling messes and when Max can’t seem to get his key card to work to get into his room it’s apparently the funniest thing on earth to you. Which in turn has Max laughing and you don’t realize how loud you two actually are until the door across from his opens and a disgruntled elderly man is stood there in his robe. 

“Sorry!” You barely squeak out to the man as Max finally gets his key card to work and you’re pushing him into his room before the old man can respond. When you hear the door click behind you, the both of you are stood in silence staring at each other for a moment and then laughter erupts out of both of you. 

Max plops down on his bed and you take that as a sign that he’s safely made it back to his room and you’ve fulfilled your duty as his friend tonight. “Alright. You’re safe and sound which means I’m gonna head to my room. Goodnight Max.” 

He quickly sits up on the edge of his bed at your farewell, his teeth gnawing at his bottom lip as he wonders if he should go through with the idea that’s been consuming his brain for some time now. He had enough liquor in him now to justify even considering it. It’s not until your hand touches the door knob that he finally speaks up. “Y/N. Wait.” 

Your head whips around at the sound of his voice and by the time you’re fully turned around he’s inches away from you. “If this is you trying to convince me to rally and head back out I’m convinced you want me dead, Verstappen.” 

“No no, it’s nothing like that.” His voice is soft and you can almost feel the energy in the room change. 

“What is it then?” You throw him a questioning look. 

He’d cracked the can of worms and if he didn’t fully open them soon he doesn’t think he’ll ever get the chance again. “Um- there’s something I-” How was he supposed to tell the girl who in less than a month is going to be his official race engineer that he has feelings for her? He’d been somewhat harboring them since they were kids and as he got older and the feelings seemed to lessen he figured it was just a silly little childhood crush. He’d only then realized since becoming as close as the two of you have ever been these past couple years that those feelings were not just ones of a silly little childhood crush.

Sure it started out as that and yeah his feelings may have just gotten pushed down when your lives started to go in different directions, but now that he had you with him all the time and your relationship had blossomed into something more than just two kids on the kart track. He’d come to the conclusion that those feelings never actually went away. And he knows he should have said something sooner because this new phase in your relationship and your work relationship takes priority over his romantic feelings, but Max can’t help but be greedy. The three time world drivers champion surprisingly wants to have his cake and to eat it too.

The alcohol coursing through his veins isn’t really helping him in thinking that clearly, he can’t seem to muster up the words in the order he wants, it’s all jumbled up and he starts speaking in Dutch without realizing it. 

“Max, you're making no sense. You’re drunk, just talk to me in the morning or guess I should say afternoon by the way you seem to be sounding.” He’s tipsy, not drunk. He could hold a conversation, but apparently not when it came to confessing his feelings. The liquid courage he thought he had possessed was clearly no longer working in his favor. It’s only when he feels your hand touch his forearm that he pulls himself together. “When I signed that contract to be your race engineer I didn’t think it would include babysitting.” You slightly teased him as you tried to guide him back to his bed, but like back at the party his feet stayed planted to the plush carpet. 

You knew drivers and their engineers were close, you had to be, but there was something definitely different about Max and yours relationship. Maybe it was because you had known each other since you were children, but you two were for sure closer than the average duo. Case and point– the situation you two had currently found yourselves in. You didn’t know of any engineers and drivers who went out and hung out outside of work like you guys do or even party like you two do, but for you guys it was normal. So perhaps things would have to change when the season officially started. 

“If you’re going to be so stubborn then you can put yourself back to bed.” Your hand drops from his arm as you turn towards the door to leave when you feel his much larger hand wrap around your wrist, pulling you back towards him. “Max-” 

Your faces are inches apart and his pupils are so dilated that those pretty blue eyes that always stare back at you resemble something more of a black hole than a spring sky. “I may regret doing this, but I think if I don’t I’ll regret it even more.” 

And it’s in this moment that everything between the two of you changes and your lives are forever altered. 

You don’t even get to question what Max is talking about before you feel his plump pink lips against yours. Your brain short circuits and it takes you a second to realize what is actually happening, but by the time your brain catches up with your lips he’s already pulled away and cursing. 

“Fuck I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Clearly you don’t feel the same-” 

Max doesn’t even get to finish his rambling before your grabbing at the material of his shirt and pulling him back towards you. Your lips crashing into each others and this time he’s the one surprised. His hands reach up to cradle your face as he deepens the kiss, your lips moving in perfect synchronization. The night's drinks linger heavy on your tongues and they begin to mix as his tongue slips its way into your mouth. He’s dominant yet soft with his actions and you find yourself becoming enthralled with them. 

When you two finally pull away you’re both breathless with rosy cheeks and giddy smiles on your face. There’s a silence between you, no one wants to be the first one to say anything. To bring you back to reality and ruin this moment, but Max is the first one to burst the bubble. “I hadn’t really planned on kissing you. I actually had a whole speech planned out, but guess this did the trick just as well.” 

“A speech?” You question. 

“Was gonna tell you that I may have had a crush on you since we were kids in karting and how I thought it was just a childhood crush for the longest time, but then we became so close ever since you joined Red Bull and I realized that I’ve always been enamored by you. We just get each other and being around you is so easy. You’re my person Y/N.” 

You weren’t going to lie to yourself and say you didn’t have a crush on Max when you were kids too or that you’d perhaps sometimes in the middle of the night when your mind wandered thought that there may be something a little more between Max and you than what you let on. But you’d always pushed those thoughts aside as quickly as they arrived. You didn’t allow yourself to be distracted with silly crushes when you were racing let alone now when this new dream was at your fingertips. But the fact was that it wasn’t just a silly little crush. Max is just as much your person as you are his. He’s your biggest supporter and embarrassingly the person you think about the most. And perhaps you do find yourself staring at his pretty blue eyes or the way his eyes scrunch up when he’s really happy or laughing hard. The way his lisp becomes more prominent when he gets excited or how you love to hear him “maxplain”. 

So perhaps you were more down bad than you had let yourself believe, but it was no use dwelling on it. You were colleagues and soon you would be his race engineer. This was just a drunk mistake and Max was only caught up in the moment– at least that’s what you kept telling yourself. This couldn’t happen right now and you know you know you shouldn’t have kissed him back, but god kissing resembled the same feeling of when you overtake on the track. That adrenaline rush that starts in your stomach and travels up to your chest. It’s addicting and as he stands there in front of you, those swollen pink lips of his keep shutting down everything in you that tells you to not let this go any further. 

Max gently reaches up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering as he tries to figure out how you feel. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have sprung this on you. It’s alright if you don’t feel the same, but I mean after that kiss… there’s got to be something.” The sly smirk on his face only has you rolling your eyes at him, but he knows from the small smile your donning that the eye roll was nothing of significance. “I just had to tell you. It’d been eating at me.” 

His hand moves to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing gently across the top. You practically melt into his touch and as your eyes flutter shut a deep sigh escapes past your lips. You know this can’t continue, you know you’ve got to be the one to set the boundaries, but god damn if this wasn’t something like a dream. 

“I’m not going to lie and say I don’t feel the same because I do. Perhaps even more than you at times, but this was absolutely the worst time for you to do this. Before you know it the season is going to start and I’m going to officially be your race engineer. We can’t mix pleasure with business.” 

He knows what you’re saying is true, but to hear you say you feel the same as him has him willing to risk it all. “I know I should have told you sooner, but I think we could make it work.” 

“Max.” You’re trying to get him to think rationally for just a second. 

“We don’t have to put a label on anything and no one will know until we are ready. We will just take it slow. Nothing would have to change between us or the people around us. Work will always come first.” 

His hands move down towards yours and your fingers intertwine as you try to make sense of all the things flying around in your brain. You’ve never felt this way about anyone before like you do Max. You’d been burying it, trying not to let it get in the way of your job, but it had been there subconsciously the whole time. Now that you’ve come to terms with it and found out he feels the same, how the hell were you two going to move forward with this?

“Things will change Max, even if you say they won’t we both know they will. We’ll have to be careful about how we interact and sneak around. This isn’t some little make believe play time kind of thing. This is real life Max.” You squeeze his hand as you speak, trying to convey just how serious you’re taking this and how he should be too. “I also have a lot more at stake than you do Max. I’ve gone through hell and back to get where I am today, I don’t want it all ruined in the blink of an eye.” 

Max so badly wants to make this work. He understands your apprehension regardless of how strong your feelings are for him, but he thinks you guys should at least give it a try. 

“I understand what you’re saying. I also think what we’ve got here is pretty special. It would be a shame to not pursue it.” 

Your brain is telling you to choose your career and your heart is telling you to choose both your career and Max. Everything could work out fine and he could be the guy you end up marrying and living happily ever after with or it could all blow up in your face and you could lose your career and your man. But if you would have never taken the risk of becoming a reserve for Red Bull then you wouldn’t be here in this position. So you take the risk and decide to go with your heart. 

“Alright let’s see how this plays out Verstappen.” 

His eyes light up at your words. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

And for the third time that night you feel his soft lips pressed against yours. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The 2024 season starts out with a bang. Max puts it on pole in quali and wins in Bahrain and the same thing happens in Saudi Arabia. You’d been practically shitting yourself in the weeks leading up to the start of the season. There was an insane amount of pressure from the public and media for you to do well, but also an insane amount that you had put on yourself. You wanted to prove to people that you were good at your job, that you deserved to be there. So when the first two weekends went smoothly and your communication went well with Max you couldn’t have been happier.

Not to mention how well it was going with Max. You two had been nothing but careful when it came to your radio messages, but also your behavior in the garage. The fleeting glances or smiles thrown your way only mean that much more considering you two are the only ones who know their true intent. And the evenings spent in each other's hotel rooms are like your own personal getaway. It’s just you two once that door is closed behind you and it makes the kisses even sweeter. 

Although the following week in Australia you weren’t expecting to be dealing with a hiccup so soon, but that’s the world of Formula 1 for you. It started off normal, Max took pole in qualifying and the race started great. Everything is normal on the pitwall and then you see Carlos overtake Max on lap two. It of course is not what you want to see, but it was only the second lap and you weren’t that stressed at the moment, but then you hear the dial of Max’s radio.

“I just lost the car. Really weird.” Max’s voice fills your ears through your headset. 

“Yeah no problem Max. Still early.” 

You watch the data closely as the race continues and you can see his time dropping ever so slowly.

“Fuck. The car is loose.” 

“I know. Try and hold on, we are working on it.” 

His time keeps dropping and you're combing through everything trying to figure out what could be going on. As you glance at the monitor with the race coverage you notice smoke coming from the back of the car and not a second later his voice comes through your headset once more. 

“I have smoke. Fire fire. Brake my brake.” 

“Copy. Try and make it back to the pits.” 

Fuck. This could not be good. You’re first real issue as an official engineer and it’s only the third race of the season. You turn in your chair as you see him rolling down the pit lane, his rear brake on fire. Your stomach drops and you know it's a DNF for him. Thankfully it wasn’t a crash, you think you would have been going to the medics with him if that was the case. 

Your headset is off and you’re making your way across the pit lane as soon as you see him get out of the car. You’re nervous considering this is the first race issue you’ve dealt with while being “together” or whatever you two are calling it and you aren’t sure how Max is going to handle it. 

He’s in the garage taking off his balaclava as you walk up to him and you want nothing more than to wrap your arms around him, but you know you can’t do that. There’s clearly signs of disappointment on his face, but he’s trying to keep a poker face when he spots you. “You alright?” You question as you lean against the counter. 

“I’m fine. Car isn’t though.” He’s short with you and you probably should have let him decompress on his own before coming over here, but you couldn’t help yourself. It’s not like it’s the first time you’ve seen him in a less than cheerful mood, but it’s the first time since coming to terms with how you felt about each other and you being his engineer.

“I know, I’m sorry.” 

He shrugs his shoulders at you, his hand running through his dirty blonde hair. “Wasn’t your fault.” 

You feel like it is though. “Are we good?” You ask with a low voice. 

Max could barely hear you with the sound of the mechanics and when he sees them moving the car into the garage he grabs you by the elbow and leads you towards the back of the garage towards the paddock entrance hallway. It luckily was empty for the moment, the garage too busy dealing with the car. 

“Why would we not be good?” He lowers his voice too. 

It’s your turn to shrug your shoulders. “I don’t know. It’s just that it was the first issue of the season and I wanted to make sure you weren’t upset with me or something.” 

“Schatje.” The term of endearment always has butterflies fluttering about in your stomach, no matter how many times you hear it. “It was not your fault. It was a mechanical issue.” 

He can see the worry across your face and he knows the amount of stress you’ve been feeling about everything. The last thing you need is to be worried about how your relationship is going. He quickly checks both directions and when he sees the coast is clear he pulls you into his arms. It’s what you both needed after the shit show that was this race and even if it was brief his actions told you everything you needed to know. “We’ll talk more tonight, yeah?” 

You simply nod at him, both of you knowing you have to go back to your respective roles in the team before someone comes around the corner. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze before disappearing behind the corner and back into the garage. You lean your head against the wall as you let out a deep sigh. There was something in you that had a feeling that this season wasn’t going to be an easy one. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Japan and China have you guys back to regularly scheduled programming and then Miami comes and turns everything upside down. When Max wins by the skin of his teeth in Imola the following race week you know something is not right with the car, but you can’t seem to pinpoint it. You know Max and you know he’s driving the car to its full ability and he somehow manages to secure the win in Canada and Spain, but not without being vocal about how shit the car is over the radio, to which you can only reply copy that Max.

It’s clear to you and probably everyone else that this season is not looking to be a dominant Red Bull season and it makes your stomach churn to think about the headlines about you. There’s not a doubt in your mind that everything will be blamed on you, especially after the horrible weekend that is the Austrian Grand Prix. 

It doesn’t start out bad, Max puts it on pole in qualifying and he holds the lead throughout the majority of the race. It’s not until lap 48 that things start to fall apart. 

“I can’t hold this much longer.” Max’s voice sounds through your headphones. 

“A couple more laps Max.” 

“The tires are fucked.” 

You don’t want Lando to undercut Max and you know if you don’t time this pitstop right that it may very well cost Max the race. On lap 52 you call Max into the pits and McLaren pits Lando also. You need this pitstop to go well and of course — it doesn’t. A stubborn left rear wheel nut is what brings the gap between Max and Lando down to two seconds. 

There’s not a bone in your body that wants to relay that information to Max, but you’ve got to, it’s your job. 

“Gap to Lando is now two seconds Max.” 

“Fuck.” 

“I know, but you can hold him off.” 

As the time began to shrink between Max and Lando your confidence in Max holding him off was dwindling and you knew he wasn’t going to just let Lando pass him. He was going to hold Lando off for as long as he could and when the racing started to get sketchy you were sure you wouldn’t have any fingernails left by the time this race was over. 

“Keep it clean Max.” You tell him after a particularly close call. 

“Something is wrong with the car.” He replies. You can tell he’s got no grip, but he’s also trying to defend like his life depended on it. 

As the laps go by the two drivers seem to be getting more desperate as both of them are pushing track limits and each other. You know it’s not gonna end well and you can only do so much from the pitwall. It’s Max who makes the final decision out there regardless of what you say. 

It’s been a tiring back and forth game with them and when they finally make contact on lap 64 your stomach drops for the man you care for, but you shake your head as his engineer. Both of them have punctures and somehow Max is able to make it back to the pits and still finish fifth. It’s quiet on the pitwall and the cheers from the Mercedes team drown out anything that might have been said. You don’t know what to say to Max when you see him. As his engineer you know he was defending (rather recklessly in your opinion) but as his ‘girlfriend’ you want to slap him for being so reckless. 

You know it’s better to just let Max decompress on his own and at this point you somewhat need to also. He’s got media duties to deal with and you’ve got your own responsibilities. You don’t even bother in waiting around for him like you usually do after a race. Once your tasks are done you’re making your way back to the hotel and for the first time that weekend you actually go to your room. Nothing sounds better at the moment than a nice long hot shower and so you let the water help wash away the stress from this weekend. That is until you hear a rapid knock on the door as you’re wrapping yourself in the hotel branded fluffy white robe. You know exactly who it is, but considering you’re dressed in nothing but a robe– you check the peephole. To no surprise there on the other side stands a disheveled Max Verstappen. His hand runs through his hair obsessively and you can tell he’s not in the cheeriest of moods. You open the door and he wastes no time in coming in. 

“Why aren’t you in my room?” He immediately asks, his tone almost reads as offended that you were here instead of three rooms down. 

“A girl can’t use her hotel room?” 

“You know what I mean.” 

You sit down on the edge of the plush bed as Max remains standing. 

“I just wanted some alone time. To decompress after this weekend, specifically today. Figured you could use some too.” 

He’s standing in front of you now, his fingers lightly toying at the collar of your robe. “All I wanted to see when I came back to my room was my girl waiting for me.” His voice is soft and you can tell this weekend has taken a toll on him. He plays the tough guy act during racing, but at the end of the day he’s just a man who wants and needs love and comfort. And so without a second thought you're sneaking off to Max’s hotel room like a couple of teenagers trying to not get caught. 

The warm embrace of Max’s arms is one of the places you feel the most safe and tonight is no exception. Austria is clearly a weekend to forget, but you know the media will be dragging it out for weeks to come. “The only thing I’m gonna say about today is that you’re lucky all that happened was a puncture. As your engineer and girlfriend you put me through the fucking ringer today Verstappen.” 

He doesn’t even register you somewhat scolding him for his driving today, all he can seem to focus on his you referring to yourself as his girlfriend. Of course you’ve been nothing less to him in his mind, you were exclusively his and no other woman would compare. But with the somewhat tricky situation you’d found yourselves in you’d never really put a label on it and that was fine to him. In fact he’d been the one to suggest it in the beginning, mainly because he knew how nervous you were about exploring the relationship between you two. But to hear it nonchentaly come out of your mouth that you’re his girlfriend is perhaps the best thing he’s heard in a good while. 

“Girlfriend?” He questions, his tone somewhat teasing you. 

Your head leaves its home on his solid chest and moves to look up at him. You hadn’t even realized you’d referred to yourself as his girlfriend, but after six months of you two just going with the flow or whatever you wanted to call it. There was no doubt that you two were exclusively one anothers. 

“I mean– that’s what I am right?” You pray you haven’t just made a fool of yourself, but you know he feels the same. 

His hand cups your cheek and he looks at you like you’re the most breathtaking thing on the planet. You can feel the butterflies erupting in your stomach and just by the way his eyes soften when he looks at you, there’s no way he doesn’t feel the same. 

“Yes, but only if I’m your boyfriend.” His voice is sweet like honey and the butterflies are about ready to escape your stomach at this point.

“We sound like two 13 year olds right now.” 

Your laughter is like music to Max’s ears and he can’t ignore the swelling feeling in his chest. It’s terrifying, but thrilling at the same time and it’s a feeling that he’s sure he never wants to be without. 

“Well ok then I need to know if we are actually boyfriend and girlfriend.” Giggles fill the hotel room and you would have thought you two had been drinking with how ridiculous you two were acting, but you were really just lovesick fools. 

As the laughter dies down you can sense a shift in the atmosphere as you two lay there and stare at each other for a moment. In what seems like no time at all your leg swings over his waist and a second later you’re straddling him. His hands instinctively move to your hips and your hands lay flat on his chest as you lean forward. “I think it’s safe to say that you’re mine huh? My boyfriend?” 

Your lips hover just above his as you whisper to him and you can see his pupils dilating and feel the grip on your hips getting tighter. 

“I like hearing that.” He whispers back, his lips jutting out to connect with yours, but the tease in you has you pulling back ever so slightly. 

“Hearing what?” A playful smirk adorns your face as you sit up with your hands still splayed across his chest. 

He sits up too, but it’s clear you’ve ignited a fire in him. His hands snake around your waist as he holds you close to his chest. Your hands now resting on his shoulders. “That I’m yours.” 

And in one swift motion he’s flipped you onto your back as his large biceps bulge while he hovers over you. His head leans down towards your ear and his breath tickles your neck. It’s like every nerve in your body is heightened and you’re aware of every single thing he does to you and himself. “And that you’re mine.” 

A shiver runs up your spine as he whispers into your ear and by the look in his eyes you know it’s going to be a long night. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

To say you were looking forward to summer break was an understatement. The mere idea of having a month off was the only thing that got you through those last three races. Silverstone wasn’t horrible, but Hungary and Belgium were nothing to write home about. The team had figured out that the upgrades that were brought to the car weren’t working correctly, but now it was trying to figure out why they aren’t working and how to correct them. But even with potentially corrected upgrades it still seemed like the car would be a pace behind McLaren or Ferrari. You’d been stressing trying to work on a new strategy with Max and trying to figure out how to make the car faster with basically nothing to work with. Not to mention the headlines that had your head on a spike claiming “Red Bull’s downfall” was because of you. It was truly tiring and so when the checkered flag waved in Belgium you were one happy girl. 

It’s not everyday that you get to send a week on a private island with your boyfriend, yet here you were. When Max had mentioned something about getting away during summer break you had figured Saint Tropez or Bali or really any typical F1 driver vacation spot. You had also figured you’d be spending some time apart considering it would be a little weird to be spotted on vacation together. The last thing you wanted was for rumors to start flying around, but Max surprised you with the unexpected. 

When Max told you this was a private island you figured there’d be maybe a handful of other people, but it was literally just you two and the staff for the villa. It’s truly paradise on Earth and you have to pinch yourself sometimes to see if you’re dreaming. Days spent on the beach and in the ocean. Nights spent tangled inbetween the sheets and mornings spent waking up to the gentle lull of waves crashing onto the sand and alright sometimes it is spent tangled in the sheets. Decadent food at the snap of a finger and the feeling of the sun on your skin everyday. It’s just what you needed, what you both needed to help you recharge for the second half of the season. 

On one of your last nights on the island Max and you find yourselves cuddled up on one of the giant loungers outside. The ocean had calmed for the night and the moon’s light cascaded over the water and onto you two. For once Max had sought out comfort in your arms and you thought you had put him to sleep from running your fingers through his hair until he spoke up. 

“I’m glad we found our way back to each other.” 

Your movements stilled, you weren’t expecting him to say that. Sure Max is a lot more loving than people would expect, but he isn’t one to be overly sappy. “Me too.” There’s a beat in the conversation and your hand finds its way back to his hair. “I don’t think as kids we saw our lives ending up like this though did we?” 

“Career wise or us being together?” Max questions. 

“Both I guess or at least it was that way for me.” You can feel Max slip his hand under your shirt and his finger start to mindlessly trace patterns on your abdomen. “If you would have told the girl who hated your guts for a while after you left me behind in F2 that I would be on a romantic getaway with you years later, I would have laughed in your face.” You can sense the shit eating grin on Max’s face. “I also fully believed that I was going to be a Formula 1 driver. There was nothing that you could have told me back then that would have changed my mind. Hell even five years ago I was still holding out hope. Guess I should have known better.” You’d turned the conversation in a different direction, but it was Max and he was the one person who you could have these kinds of talks with in confidence.

Max knows this is still a very sore subject for you and how could it not be? He couldn’t imagine having gone through all the shit you have just to be denied over who you were. He may have had his fair share of shit to go through as a child and some other things, but in the end he got to achieve his dream and no one denied him of it because of who he was. He knew you had to look at him with envy more times than not and he wished he could only go back in time and somehow by the grace of the racing gods get you a seat. “There’s no such thing as “knowing better” you had a dream and the talent to back it up. There was no reason you shouldn’t have been able to achieve it schatje. Life is just one cruel fucker sometimes.” 

“But I guess without that happening we probably wouldn’t have ended up together then?” You try to change the subject to something less depressing than your failed racing career. 

“Everything happens for a reason.” Max states. 

You nod in agreement, it’s something you’d told yourself quite often to try and cope with your dreams getting crushed. 

“I do love my job now and however shit my luck may be it can’t be that bad. I still get to enjoy racing and I’ve managed to acquire you in the process.” 

Max lets out a small laugh at your statement. “Didn’t know I was some prize to be sought after.” 

“You were like an added bonus that came with the job.” 

Max playfully scoffs and after a few moments of silence he changes the subject.

“Maybe we should just stay here for the rest of the season.” He doesn’t want to admit it, but he’s been dreading for summer break to end and to go back to driving a car that wants to disagree with everything he does.  

“It would be nice, but we have a championship to win.” 

Max looks up at you and even with the moon as your only light source those baby blues of his still sparkled. “You really think we still have a shot at it?” 

You know this season has been weighing him and the whole team down and as much as you’ve been stressed you still have faith that you guys can pull off the WDC. ‘I’m gonna tell you something my Dad used to tell me. Whenever I had a difficult race or was upset or even when I was getting rejected for an F1 seat he’d always tell me ‘it’ll pass’. You may be feeling like shit right now or hopeless, but after some time things get better and eventually that feeling of despair will pass. This rough patch we are in right now– it’ll pass Max. You’re gonna win again, especially if I have anything to do with it.” 

The overwhelming desire he has to tell you he loves you right now is something he can’t ignore. He’s never had someone in his corner like this before. Had someone that he cared about so deeply and loved be so involved in securing his success, but also reassuring him and instilling confidence back in him. It’s something you were good at as kids too, he couldn’t recall how many times he’d snuck off and hung out with you and your family during your karting years. If he hadn’t had a particularly good race he always knew you’d be there for him no matter what others in his life said or did.

But as much as he’s confident in his true feelings about you and the fact that he really hadn’t felt this way about anyone before, he decides to keep it to himself for the time being. If you by some chance don’t feel the same he doesn’t want to ruin this nice moment or vacation by blabbing his mouth about how he feels. So for now him pressing his lips against yours and the feeling of your hands on him will have to suffice instead of ‘i love you’. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The first race back after summer break is Max’s home race and you both want nothing more than for him to win this one. The usual cool and collected Max has some nerves to him this weekend. You’d been nothing but reassuring and supportive this weekend because you truly think with the little tweaks the team had made to the car and some new strategy techniques that you may have this weekend in the bag, but Max can’t seem to shake the doubt in his mind. He’s of course thrilled to be racing at his home race, but the fact that he hasn’t been winning and that his family is going to be here has his mind working on overdrive. The little boy who hated to be a disappointment is still inside of him no matter the size of the nonchalant facade he tries to put on. 

When Max qualifies P2 you know he’s going to be upset, but you know you guys can work with P2. You two go over the best possible strategy techniques Saturday night and come Sunday morning you’re both feeling good about the race. 

“Alright Max twenty seconds until the formation lap. Be smart and safe.”

Your voice travels through the headset and Max smiles at the last part. It had become a habit of yours to always tell him to be smart and safe over the radio. It’s your way of telling him you care and perhaps subconsciously that you love him and he wants to tell you he loves you back every time, but he knows everyone can hear what is being said, so he settles for the old stand by. 

“Copy.” 

When the lights go out you don’t realize you haven’t taken a breath until Max overtakes Lando on the first turn and you’re breathing out a giant sigh of relief. This is what you guys needed and now all Max needed to do was get some distance between him and Lando and pray for it to be a boring race and he’d be taking that top step. 

“Beautiful Max.”

You know the reassurance over the radio will have him smiling like a fool under his helmet. 

It doesn’t take long though for your confidence about the race to start to diminish. Lando wastes no time in trying to gain his position back and you can tell Max can’t hold him off much longer. He eventually overtakes him and the gap that Lando starts to create is making your stomach turn. You knew if Lando got out in front and into the clean air it would be game over and that’s exactly what happens. With only ten laps left you don’t even want to tell Max how big the gap has gotten, but from his radio silence and him not outright asking, you figure he already knows. 

22 seconds. 

That’s the gap between Lando and Max when the checkered flag waves. Your stomach is in knots as you take off your headset and make your way towards the crowd already forming for the podium celebration. Max still ended up with P2, but to be beaten with a 22 second gap at your home race has got to be killing him. You watch him from below and you can tell his mind is going a mile a minute, the adrenaline still coursing through his veins and the disappointment from losing the race is written all over him. 

After the podium celebration and the team debrief and every other responsibility that you have on a race weekend, you finally find yourself back at the hotel. Usually you’d be flying back home on his private jet, especially on a weekend like this, but Max opted to fly out first thing in the morning. So while Max finished up the last of his responsibilities you opted to torture yourself some more and go over countless amounts of data from this weekend.

Technically this isn’t even your main job, but if you can somehow figure out what the hell is wrong with this car then you’ll take on whatever job you have to. You don’t even realize how long you’ve been sat at this small hotel room desk, papers scattered everywhere as you hunch over your laptop. The sound of the door opening and closing doesn’t register in your mind and it’s not until you feel two strong hands on your shoulders that you are brought back from the world of tire degradation and sector times. 

“Baby, come on, let's go to bed. We can’t solve this in one night.” His fingers work slowly into your tense muscles and a sigh of relief comes from you as you lean back in the chair, eyes fluttering closed as he continues to work his magic. 

And as good as this feels, your brain wants to talk about the elephant in the room. “So we are gonna pretend like you didn’t get beat with a 22 second gap at your home race?“ His movements halt and you realize you probably could have worded that better. 

“Well I’d actually like to forget about it if that’s alright.” He moves away from you and chooses to sit down on the edge of the bed. His body language is nothing shy of defeated and you could kick yourself for how you spoke. 

“That’s not what I meant to say. It came out wrong. I was just trying to say that I’m trying to figure this out so it doesn’t happen again. We can act like it didn’t happen but it did and there’s clearly a reason here in this data.” 

He doesn’t say anything, just stares at you blankly. 

“I’m sorry if this isn’t what you want to be hearing, but I’m trying to get you a winning car again Max. I mean this is my first year as your actual engineer and I feel like I’m gonna lose my job if you aren’t winning races. The car is shit and we can’t seem to figure out a good strategy to work with the shit car. I don’t know what the fuck happened from last year to this year but I’m losing my fucking mind. People already think I shouldn’t be here and by not cranking out wins I’m just giving them more ammunition to use against me.” 

You hadn’t realized you’d started crying until you feel Max’s thumb wiping the tears from your cheeks. “Fuck I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to go on some rant and have a breakdown.” 

You bury your head into his chest as his arms wrap around you, enveloping you in his strong warm embrace. “It’s fine. It’s good to let it out.” One of his hands moves to gently stroke your hair and when you finally pull your head back to look at him, he’s pressing a kiss to your forehead and it tells you everything you need to know. 

“I know we’ve both been under stress, but I didn’t know it was this bad baby. I wish you would have talked to me sooner before it resulted in this.” 

You shrug your shoulders at him. “Didn’t want to be a burden.” 

“You’re never a burden to me. We are a team, remember? Regardless of actually working for the same team, at the end of the day it’s still you and me. Don’t ever feel like you have to bottle things up because you’re worried it will stress me out. We’re in this crazy ass world together yeah?” 

A sniffle comes from you, but your tears had subsided. You find yourself just staring at him, getting lost in those ocean blue eyes and you know you’re so eternally grateful to have a guy like Max in your life. If only the world could see just how compassionate and loving he actually was. 

“Don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

“Probably be miserable.” 

And there was the smart ass Max that you knew all too well. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The season was coming to an end in a little over a month and you and Max and the whole team had been working overtime in trying to get the cars back up to the normal Red Bull standard that everyone had come to know. Max hadn’t won a race since Spain in June and with only four races left in the season the media had been in a whirlwind over a possible title fight between Max and Lando. You tried not to pay it much mind, there wasn’t a doubt in your mind that Max wouldn’t win his fourth championship this season. Even with a less dominant car he still went out there and gave it everything and his talent truly showed this season, to see him pulling that car up to podium level multiple times told everyone what they needed to know 

Brazil was this weekend and it’s always a fun race in your opinion. Rain is always expected at least once throughout the weekend and the teams prepare for it, but this weekend it seemed that mother nature didn’t want this race to happen. Qualifying had gotten moved to Sunday morning which made things a little more complicated. If Max wrecked it didn’t give the mechanics much time at all to make any repairs. To make things even worse he was already starting with a five place grid penalty due to power unit change, so he had to make the most of this qualifying. 

The garage is alive preparing to send the cars out for qualifying, but you can see how wet the track is and you can’t lie– you’re nervous. Usually you’d be on the pitwall by now, but you’re lingering in the garage waiting for Max. When he sees you he’s surprised and when you pull him to a somewhat less busy spot of the garage he’s worried that something is wrong. 

“Everything alright?” He asks. 

“Yes. Just wanted to tell you in person to be safe. It looks nasty out there.” 

A smile creeps its way onto his face and before he can tease you about being a softie his head mechanic comes up asking him a question. You take that as a sign to get your ass over to the pitwall before anyone overhears anything else. With your headset on and your nerves at bay for the moment you turn around in your chair to see Max getting into his car. 

“Alright. Green light at the end of the pitlane. Be smart and safe Verstappen.” 

“Always am.” 

You roll your eyes at him and prepare yourself for what could be an interesting qualifying session. When the first cars go out you know there’s going to be multiple crashes, you can just tell. Luckily Max makes it to Q2, but that's where everything goes wrong. A late called yellow flag has Max qualifying P12 which is actually P17 and you know when you hear the static in your headset that what comes out of his mouth is not going to be pretty. 

“What the fuck? Why did they wait that long to pull out the flag? Should have been red to begin with, he went into the wall!” 

“I know Max. We will discuss it later.”

You’re trying to not let himself get more community service, so the less he talks on the radio the better. 

Max is raging as soon as he exits the cockpit of his car and you can tell from the pitwall that he has a bone to pick, but the race is in a few short hours and you have work to do. He can rant all he wants later, but you’re on a mission to somehow get him to win this race all the way from the back of the grid. He doesn’t come and find you for some time, but when he does you two don’t even mention the drama from qualifying. He’s clearly cooled down and you two know it’s now time to lock in and make this strategy work. You two go over three possible strategy plans, but you can tell from the fire in his eyes that he’s planning on pulling out a little bit of Mad Max today. 

There’s maybe a half an hour until lights out and you take that time to go and find your parents who had been invited to attend the race this weekend. You like to think their very cool race engineer daughter is the reason they are here, but unfortunately you are a nepo baby and your Dad was invited because of who he was. Unsurprisingly you find Max and your parents chatting in the garage, Red Bull lanyards hanging from their necks. They greet you with a hug and kiss and Max and your Dad continue to talk while your Mom and you head out into the paddock. 

“How’s the engineer life been treating my baby?” She asks as you two stroll down the paddock. 

“I can’t lie, it's been stressful, but I love it. Helps that I’ve got such a good driver to work with though.” 

“It’s nice to see you two reconnect.” There’s an inflection in her voice and you know there was a totally different meaning behind her words. 

“What is it Mom?” You groan. 

“Nothing. All I said it was nice to see you two reconnect. You two were close as kids and I’m not surprised that you found your way back to each other.” 

You stop in your tracks, turning to face her. “Mom.” 

“It’s truly nothing. It’s just a little bit of Mother’s intuition.” You stare blankly at her– waiting for her to continue. “I’ve heard how you talk to him over the radio, how you two look at each other in pictures, and I’ve witnessed firsthand how you two have acted today. You’re in love with him aren’t you?” Your heart starts to race and you don’t know what to tell her, of course your Mom would know this. She links her arm with yours and you two head back towards the Red Bull garage.

As you two walk through the entrance you find your Dad and Max still talking. Your Mom lowers her voice as she speaks to you. “Your silence tells me that I’m correct.” When Max spots you his whole face lights up and he’s waving for you to come join him and your Dad. “And I’d say it’s pretty safe to say he’s in love with you too.” She whispers to you before heading towards the two men.

You’re dumbfounded as you stand there in the middle of the busy garage, but the sweet sound of a familiar Dutch accent hollering for you has your legs moving before your brain catches up. 

In what seems like no time at all you’re back on the pitwall and the cars are lined up on the grid. After a mess of a formation lap the five lights finally go out and the race is underway. Max wastes no time in making his way through the field and you’re crossing your fingers that this rain on the radar goes around the track, but as the first few droplets fall you know this is about to get interesting. 

Max had made it up to second thanks to a combination of VSCs, other teams pit stops, and then by the grace of the racing gods a red flag. Which gave you guys a free pitstop and allowed for him to hold his P2 position. Things were looking up, but when the red flag lifted it seemed like the rain was only getting heavier. You knew at this point that this was the ultimate test of trust between Max and you. He was blindly following your orders and praying that what you were telling him wasn’t going to have him end up in the wall like so many others. 

“No red flag? This is getting dangerous, even for me.” 

“No red flag.” 

“What the hell?”

“I know. Anything can happen out there. Please be careful.” 

Your fingernails are non-existent at this point and you’re sure you’ve aged ten years from this race alone, but eventually Max overtakes Esteban and after more safety cars and yellow flags it’s down to the last lap. Max has got this and you can feel the happy tears starting to well up in your eyes. And when that checkered flag waves and he’s the first person to see it the whole pitwall and garage erupts into cheers. You would have thought he’d won the championship the way everyone was acting, but he was just reclaiming his spot at the top.

You can’t make your way over to the barricade fast enough and to see the pure joy on his face as he climbs out of the car makes your heart swell with happiness. It had been a long time coming this season and of course his first win in what seemed like forever was one hell of a drive. He comes running over to the team and when he spots you you’re the first person he’s hugging and practically pulling over the barricade. You can feel the happiness radiating off of him and you know that after this that he’s got the championship in the bag. 

The podium celebration was one for the books and to see him radiating up there and smiling down at you had you forgetting that you’re keeping this relationship a secret. But the one thing you know you won’t forget is how in love you felt and what you don’t realize is how bad it’s going to hurt. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The two week break before the triple header that ends the season has you spending some time at headquarters. It's just the usual end of the season stuff, but when an email pops up from HR wanting to schedule a meeting you’re a little concerned. You don’t mention anything to Max, figuring it’s just maybe something silly, but when you walk into the HR office you can sense that it’s not something small. 

“Y/N, so glad you could work this meeting into your schedule. I know you’re a busy woman so I appreciate it.” 

You sit down in one of the plush chairs in front of her desk and you try to calm yourself, if it was something so bad then why would she be so cheery towards you. “Of course. What did you need to discuss with me?” God, could you sound any more robotic? 

Her cheery demeanor turns more serious and when she clasps her hands together on her desk you know this is the moment that someone has found out about you and Max and you’re about to be canned.

“I don’t know how to really go about this, but I’m just going to come right out and say it. There was someone who got into contact with us and claimed to have pictures of you and Max engaging in less than professional activities after his win in Brazil.” 

You’re stunned for a moment and don’t know what to say, you’d been mentally preparing yourself for this moment, yet when you actually hear it you realize you didn’t actually believe that this was the reason you were being called in. You two had been so careful about maintaining professional boundaries while at work and out in public, but apparently not that weekend. 

“I can assure you that’s not the case with Max and I. Did they actually have the photos to back up their claims or is this all just hearsay?” You weren’t going to immediately give it up in case this was a test, but when she pulls out an envelope and slides it across the desk, you know it’s over. 

The envelope though it weighs virtually nothing – feels like the heaviest thing in the world.

When you finally work up the courage to open it you feel like you’re going to throw up. Your palms are sweaty, mouth is watering, and you feel light headed. There in your hands is the thing that is going to ruin your career– pictures of you and Max kissing outside his hotel room in Sao Paulo. How could you two have been so dumb? You aren’t sure if you want to cry or scream or throw up. 

“There’s no denying that it’s you in those photos, but I’m here to give you your options.” 

“Options?” Your eyes are still locked to the photos that are still being held in your shaky hand. 

“Listen. I admire what you’ve accomplished as a woman in a fully male dominated sport. I also know what happens to women who let things like this go public. Their hard work is diminished to becoming their partner's significant other or your hard work could only have been accomplished by selling your body in exchange for promotions. Luckily, I was the one who saw that email and I squashed it early enough to where we won’t have a scandal on our hands, but I need something from you in exchange.” 

You’re like a deer caught in headlights and there's so many things going through your brain that you can’t even communicate with her. 

“I get that this is overwhelming and the last thing you wanted to happen, but right now it’s only you, Max, and me that know about your relationship at Red Bull and we want it to stay that way. I also know that you’ve gotten offers from McLaren and Ferrari to work for them next year and you’ve ignored them.” How did she know about that? You hadn’t told a soul, not even your parents. You’d been mulling over it for some time. You didn’t want to leave Max and you had made a home at Red Bull, but McLaren especially had been so adamant about getting you to join the team. Your contract with Red Bull was only for a year, but you figured they’d resign you, now it doesn’t seem that way. “So, you’re only real option here if you want to continue to make a name for yourself in this world is to break things off with Max and accept one of those offers.” 

Your eyes snap up towards hers and you can feel your heart about ready to beat out of your chest. “I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but my higher ups will not want to deal with this scandal if you two continue to be careless. There will be no workplace romance, you will be gone and your hardwork will be for nothing. I followed your journey Y/N, you deserve to be out there racing with all of them, but life gave you lemons and you somehow made some damn good lemonade. Now don’t let them drink your lemonade.” 

She takes the photos and the envelope out of your hands and you hear her put them through the paper shredder. You feel like you’re frozen in time, like how you felt back in that meeting at Williams all those years ago. “I’m sure it’s nothing too serious between you two anyways. So this shouldn’t be a hard decision.” 

You’re brought back to reality and the words are slipping past your lips before you even realize it. “It’s not serious.” 

Yes it is. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The following days leading up to Vegas are a blur, you try to drown yourself in your work and Max can’t seem to leave you alone. It’s not that you don’t want to see him, it’s just that you’re waging a war in your mind right now and he’s at the root of it. 

You try to ignore the impending doom hanging over your head and actually enjoy this weekend. If Max finishes one place ahead of Lando this weekend he’s going to be a four time World’s Driver Champion. It’s the thing you guys have worked towards the whole season and to see it finally come together might be one of the highlights of your career. Vegas as always is a spectacle, the lights, the parties, the celebrities. It’s nothing like any of the European races or really any other race if you were being honest. 

When the sun sets and the track lights come on your mind only focuses on the task at hand and not the ultimate ultimatum you’ve been given. Qualifying goes somewhat to plan, Max didn’t manage to get pole but he does qualify ahead of Lando, which puts him in a great spot for tomorrow. He’s buzzing once he gets out of the car and when he finds you he can tell there’s something slightly off with you. Your energy isn’t necessarily what it usually is, but he figures maybe you’re cold and tired, so he doesn’t press the matter. 

You try to follow the script the following night, but the longer this thing festers in your brain the more you can’t keep on your poker face. 

“Twenty seconds till formation lap. Be smart and safe.” 

“Copy.” 

The race thankfully is pretty unremarkable. The main goal tonight was to just beat Lando, if you managed to score a win also that would be great, but the Championship was what you were going after tonight. 

And that’s just what Max does. 

The roars from the crowd and the team as Max crosses the finish line before Lando are deafening and you can feel the mixture of happy and sad tears streaming down your face. 

“Max! You’re a four time champion!” 

It’s nothing but pure glee back from him across the radio and you can’t help but laugh at the simply lovely through the tears. You managed to pull yourself together and accept the congrats from the rest of the pitwall and make your way through the crowd to see if you can find Max, but he’s already trying to find you. The crowd makes space for you to get to the barricade and when Max spots you there’s nothing but love in his eyes and it absolutely kills you. He pulls you up over the barricade and envelopes you in the most bone crushing hug you’ve ever experienced. There’s millions of cameras around so you have to be careful, but you savor the moment for as long as you can. “We did it!” Max exclaims and you can see the happy tears threatening to spill out of his eyes. 

“We did! I told you it was gonna happen, didn't I?” 

Seconds later you two get into a Rolls Royce with a cameraman that takes you along the track. You look over at him and he’s radiating with happiness and the ache in your chest only seems to grow. “I’m so proud of you Max.” That smile that you love so dearly beams back at you and you want to reach out and caress his cheek, but you know you can’t.  

“I couldn’t have done this without you. This championship is as much yours as it is mine. I hope you know that.” He goes to reach for your hand, but then remembers the cameraman and quickly snatches it away. Silence fills the luxurious car and you know Max is trying to take in being a four time back to back champion, while you’re coming to terms with the fact that not too long from now you’re going to not only break the man you love’s heart, but your own. 

That little girl with a dream is still inside of you, she’s with you every race weekend. You love Max more than you should, but you know if you continue on with this you’ll be the one losing your job and not him. It’s not fair, but you learned that life isn’t fair early on and you’ll be damned if you allow yourself to lose something else that you worked so hard to achieve. So if that means losing Max and moving teams then you guess that's how it has to be. Your Dad’s words replay in your head ‘it’ll pass’ and you know that nothing ever truly passes and that all you do is learn to live with it. The ache gets weaker over time, but it never truly goes away.

Even though you found a new dream to pursue you still have moments of truly missing racing. Like when you see the pure excitement and joy on Max’s face when he wins a race or when you see the adrenaline radiating off of him when he gets out of the car, you can’t ignore that ache in your chest. You can’t help but sometimes still think that should be you and you know you shouldn’t feel like that about the man you love, but you’ve never been able to live through him. He’s told you so many times that his wins and now this championship are as much yours as they are his because without you he wouldn’t be able to win. But those words do nothing to heal the teenage girl who got her dreams shattered just because she was a girl. You want to be able to have your dream and keep the man you love, but the career you chose doesn’t allow for you to have both. So for that little girl that still lives inside of you, you choose your dream. 

You attend all the team celebrations and end up getting soaked in champagne more times than you can count and you try to savor every last moment you have with Max and that includes going out and celebrating and coming back to his hotel room and celebrating some more. You savor it all fully knowing this is the last time you’re going to make love to him and kiss him and be held by him. And when he finally decides to fully bare his heart to you as you lay in his arms that night, you stick your knife right through it. 

“I love you.” 

You don’t answer him for a moment and you know this is how it’s got to happen. The longer you wait the harder it’s going to be. 

“It’ll pass.” 

Max isn’t sure he heard you right and he’s choking on his own words trying to form a coherent sentence. “What are you talking about schatje?” 

The tears are already falling down your cheeks and you know there is no coming back from this. “Please don’t call me that.” 

Max removes you from his grasp and sits up in bed. “Why not?” 

“It makes this harder than it needs to be.” 

He’s more than confused at the moment. His heart is racing and you’re crying and he doesn’t understand what is going on. He just won his fourth championship and finally told the woman of his dreams that he loves her and she replies with it’ll pass? “Y/N what the hell is going on? I love you and I know you love me back. I see it in your eyes when you talk to me or when you look at me. I hear it when you tell me to be safe as I line up on the grid. Am I a fool or something? Have I been blind this whole time?” 

“I love you more than you could imagine.” 

“Then why are you sobbing and telling me it’ll pass and asking me to not call you schatje?” In the back of his mind he knows, but he doesn’t want to come to terms with it. 

You just want to pull him back into your arms and kiss him and take back everything you’ve said so far, but you can’t and you wish this wasn’t your reality at the moment. “We can’t be together anymore Max.” 

He furrows his eyebrows at you, he really can’t believe the words coming out of your mouth. “Are you being serious? Like are you being totally honest with me right now? Because we have something special here Y/N. I want to know why you’re throwing this away so easily.” 

You take a shaky deep breath and sit up next to him in the bed. “Someone got a picture of us kissing outside your hotel room in Brazil and Red Bull’s HR got wind of it. I got called in and she showed me the pictures. They squashed it before it got out, but Max, she basically told me that if we were to come out as a couple that I’d lose my job. I can’t afford to lose out another dream of mine Max. You don’t understand what it’s like.” 

He grabs your hand and the simple feeling of his skin on yours has more tears rolling down your cheeks. “Listen, I’d give away every championship every wi-” 

“You don’t mean that Max.” 

He’s up out of the bed at this point and you fear it’s only going to escalate from here.

“For fucks sake yes I do! I know we’ve made things a little complicated, but we can make it work. I mean I’m Max Ver-” 

“Exactly, you’re Max Verstappen. You won’t have to worry about losing your job over this. You’re F1’s golden boy, world famous Max Verstappen. It’ll be a little slap on the wrist for you, but for me in this boys club? It’ll be hell. I’ll be painted a whore, a girl whose only way to have gotten into this position was to have had sex with every guy I had to. You don’t know what it’s like to be one of the best drivers of your generation and not get to follow your childhood dreams simply because no one wants to take the chance on signing a female driver. I’ve had to give up one of my dreams and I’m not about to have to lose another one. So yes, I love you and it’s fucking killing me inside to do this, but sometimes we have to let go of the things we love. This horrible heart wrenching feel we are both experiencing will pass. I promise you. You deserve to be with someone who can give you their all.” 

He sits down at the end of the bed, your words finally sinking in and he feels like the wind has been knocked out of him. Like he's gone into the wall at full speed. “I don’t want anyone else but you Y/N.” You crawl to the end of the bed and wrap your arms around him and it’s at that moment you realize he’s crying too and the last little bit of your heart that’s intact finally breaks. “I’m not gonna be able to convince you to stay am I?” 

You press a chaste kiss to his bare shoulder. “No.” You whisper. “I’m probably always gonna love you Max, but this is how it has to be.” 

His hand reaches up and grabs yours and a shaky breath escapes from him before he speaks. “Guess you finally made me cry didn’t you?” 

FIA Gala 2025 

The black gown you’ve chosen to wear tonight is stunning, but you’ve still not grown accustomed to wearing them. And you haven’t grown to like these fancy Galas either, but you’ve got to go to it though. You’re being honored for being the first female engineer to win back to back WDCs with two different drivers on two different teams . Your season with McLaren this year was nothing shy of spectacular and people actually started to recognize your talent.

You’ve been nursing this glass of champagne for some time now, listening to the team talk about the season while all you can think about is taking this dress off later. They get called over to a different table to talk with some sponsors and you take the alone time to scroll through your phone. You’re just about ready to go and see if there’s anything here other than champagne when you hear him speak from behind you and that all too familiar ache blooms in your chest.

“Is this seat taken?” 

[blorbocedes]

On: different parenting approaches

so keke rosberg has a world championship, and a newborn son. he retires the sport a year after, the shadow of tragedy following him -- the fatal crash of his friend and f1 driver elio de angelis being the reason.

now keke has a blonde baby that looks like its mother and babbles in german. he bonds with his son in the language he knows best — no, not his mother tongue rusty with disuse — racing.

so he builds a track in their garden in ibiza and sticks his son in the two person kart beside him before he is old enough for the helmet to even fit properly.

keke takes nico to the last race of his career in DTM, in a smaller replica of his exact uniform. keke tells him to wave. the roar of the crowd terrifies nico. he can't. he wants to be a racing driver when he grows up.

and you know this part of the story. the boy follows in his father's footsteps. in the sport of nepotism, keke rosberg is the only world champion father who lives to see his son become a champion.

so nico rosberg has a world championship and a newborn daughter. he retires the sport a year after she is born. he knows the same fatality of the sport his father does, has experienced and lost firsthand.

now nico has a blonde baby that looks like its mother and babbles in german. nico wants to bond with her in every way he can. he wants to be hands on in every way.

he speaks 5 languages, went to an international school and both she and her sister are enrolled in the same one. he reads parenting books, has tea parties with them, and drops them to school.

the thought of his daughters following in his footsteps terrifies him, and he understands now why his mother could never stomach to watch a single race of his. this glorious unforgiving sport of his, and his father's, that doesn't care who it takes. and it seems unthinkable to put a child in a racecar, even though that was his childhood.

but if she really wanted, like he really wanted -- he would not deny it.

so he takes her to a indoor go kart track in monaco, in a helmet that's bigger than her. he's tucked right behind her, safe. they share so many languages in common, french growing up in monaco, german at home, english at school, some spanish from going to ibiza. and this -- although it's been a while since he's really spoken it, his father's language-- is one of them.

[v6quewrlds]

&.⠀⠀JOE BURROW⠀⋆⠀#9.

disclaimer⠀...⠀some fics are tagged as mature containing sexual content. please do not read/interact with these works if you are under 18. i am not responsible for your media consumption, so please be sure to proceed with caution.

(⋆) = personal favs.

FICS, works over 2,000 words.

ALL THAT MATTERS, 3k (fluff) joe burrow will always be a stubborn, ohio boy. even when his wife's brother is a 4-time nba champion for the cavs' rival team.

ALL YOURS, social media au nyla's latest single is making waves. the audience has questions for her elusive boyfriend, joe burrow.

BORDERLINE, 6.8k (smut, feat. tee higgins) working in and around the nfl for years, there aren't many people in the league who can knock you off your game. by some twist of fate, two of them show up together, hoping to lure you into their orbit.

GOOD DAYS, 2.8k (fluff) what gift do you get for a man who has the world at his fingertips? a really, really good day.

GOODIES (⋆), 6.2k (smut) ja'marr is a lot of things, subtle is not one of them. when he drops the bomb of joe's no nut november pact, it's only fair you make it as difficult for him to stick to it as possible, right?

HOMIESEXUAL, 10.2k (angst & smut, feat. andrei iosivas) joe burrow comes and goes through your life like the tides. just when you think you've caught him, he slips away from your grasp. just when you think you've finally moved on, he sneaks back in with empty promises. as if things couldn't get any messier, enter andrei iosivas, joe's wide receiver.

HOMIESEXUAL II, 6.8k (angst, feat. andrei iosivas) just as you begin to settle into a slow ease with andrei, joe's late night texts sends you spiraling. paralyzed by the memories of what could have been, you find yourself back to square one.

INFINITY (⋆), 6.9k (fluff & smut) the bengals suffer a devastating loss against the eagles. it takes everything within you to face joe, hoping you'll be able to remind him of his worth.

LOVE DROUGHT, 8.8k (angst & smut) chelsea's life appears perfect. a beautiful home, a great job, and a valuable last name. leaving behind her life in atlanta to come to cincinnati presents new opportunities and new challenges in her marriage. the biggest challenge comes in the form of the handsome neighbor next door, every married inch of him.

LOVE LANGUAGE (⋆), 8k (fluff & smut) joe burrow was made to be a husband. your honeymoon is proof enough that loving you is his love language.

LOVE TALK, 1.9k (fluff) with your toddler off with the cousins at her grandparents' house, it's a quiet night in the burrow household. you take advantage of the quiet to spend some one-on-one time soaking in your warm tub.

MY LITTLE LOVE, 4.5k (fluff) the afc championship game is around the corner. thankfully amara burrow is more than happy to make sure her daddy is ready to bring it home.

PRETTY LITTLE THING, 6.7k (smut) it's a rare quiet morning for you and joe. while you plan to sleep in and take it easy, your husband has other more active plans.

SAY MY NAME, 6.8k (angst & smut) success is great until you realize that you haven't touched your fiance in nearly a month. feeling guilty about your absence, his new assistant's constant presence hits a nerve.

SLIM SHADY, 2.1k (smut) your boyfriend is cool, calm, collected, and now platinum blonde? though you're mentally conflicted, you can't help but feel drawn to his new look.

TOO PROUD, 8.3k (angst & smut) being friends with benefits with the cool, calm, and collected quarterback has been nothing short of a fantasy. but when he loses his cool in a way you've never seen before, you start to pull away.

BLURBS, works under 2,000 words.

ACCESS HERE, #joey b.

[caesium-55]

—seven days. [ vi.iii ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

author's note: updating bc i love yall. lol jk i dont want to study for my engineering management long quiz yet. sum1 yell at me to start studying or smth.

tags: @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @eugene-emt-roe @bellezaycafe @barnestatic @theseerbetweenus @wcnorris @notyouraveragemochii @lpab @vildetry06 @a-beaverhausen @formula1mount @loloekie @alucardsdaddyissues @juky-ps @cassianswh0reeee @devotedlycrookeddonut @amberpanda99 @supermaxv1 @evie-119 @spideylovin @harianaswhore @formulaal

masterlist.

The Abu Dhabi Grand Prix 2021 is a little dramatic in Max’s opinion. Some would say controversial. A lot of restarts. The issue with the safety car. Hamilton and Verstappen goes neck to neck. 369.5 points to 369.5. In the end, Verstappen overtakes Hamilton and wins the 2021 World Drivers' Championship.

The team celebrates with him after winning and in the sea of Red Bull employees, Max searches for you.

He won! Max Verstappen won! He’s a WDC now! He finally made truth of the world he told you in 2019.

Kelly appears and kisses him square on the lips. Max sees you in his peripheral vision, pulling your ball cap lower on your face before turning around and leaving. He wants to call you but Kelly keeps him in place.

Max visits your hotel room later, all happy and he holds the canned bottle of beer to you when you open the door.

“I’m not the sour loser anymore.”

You smile at him and Max feels like he’s on top of the podium again.

“Told ya you’ll be champion one day. Congrats, champ. Very happy for you.”

Champ.

Max decides that he likes Champ over every name you call him.

2022

you: go to fucking sleep u degenerate gamer

you: its 3 in the morning you have a race at 8

max: youre not my mother

you: i am ur manager u ass

you: and i have ur mom’s cell no

you: i will fucking call her if ur stream doesn't turn offline in ten seconds

you: 10…

max: you wouldnt dare

you: 9…

He moves into a penthouse at the beginning of the year and purchases a jet, Dassault Falcon 900EX, to make the traveling easier. Flying commercial absolutely sucks, even first class.

When he mentions the money he spent; the penthouse rental cost, the price of the jet plus maintenance of the private plane service, you have stood up and went to the balcony to stare at the Monaco scenery to gather your thoughts. Max laughs as he watches your brain overheat. He tells security that you’re to be given an immediate pass into the building and his penthouse without the need of going through the strict security checks. He gives you a keycard that you barely use because you knock on the door every single time you come by. A month later, Kelly and Penelope move in and this is the beginning of the little family charade.

“What are you doing?”

“Is it not obvious?” you gesture to the iPad in your hand. “Readin’ a Lestappen fic in AO3.”

Max’s brows furrow.

“Lestappen?”

“The ship name between you and Charles. Lestappen. Leclerc, Verstappen, Lestappen,” you say as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world and he’s stupid for even asking, waving your hand in a complicated flourish. “It’s good. Top-tier literature. Want me to send you the link?”

Max’s nose scrunches, “So there are people who ship me and Charles?”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Romantically?”

You nod, “Want the link?”

“Absolutely not.”

You shrug your shoulders.

“Your loss.”

Max wins P1 (as things should be) in Austin, Hamilton P2, and Leclerc P3. The team holds a private drinking party in the hotel bar. Max sits with Leclerc, whom he has invited, and Lando, who came with Daniel, and Daniel because he’s Daniel and he still gets a free pass in Red Bull parties even though he’s in McLaren now.

Daniel passes him a bottle of Heineken and Max searches for the bottle opener on the table but it's nowhere. He reaches for you, who sits on the neighboring table with the PR team. Max grabs the hem of your polo shirt sleeve and tugs slightly to get your attention. He opens his mouth to ask if you’ve seen the bottle opener but you got to moving, not even giving Max the chance to speak.

Without even interrupting your conversation with the PR people or even breaking eye contact with the person who is talking animatedly, you take the beer bottle from Max’s hand, toss a hand towel on top of it, then you use your teeth to remove the cap. It opens with a loud click. You wipe the rim of the bottle, pocketing the bottle cap, before returning the Heineken to Max.

Max looks at the Heineken bottle in his hand.

You know, Sophie, Max’s mother, always say that there's a certain type of intimacy existing when two people are able to communicate without the use of words. People associate intimacy with bare skins and basking in the fragility and vulnerability of a person, but intimacy goes deeper than mere nakedness and showing all the bare parts of you to the other person. Intimacy comes hand in hand with truth. When you admit your truth to the other person, that's intimacy. Her knowing his truth, his needs, without him telling her. That's another kind. If that's not the purest form of love then he does not know what is.

Charles pats his shoulder to pull him to reality.

At that moment, Max decides he’s an asshole because he just realized that he likes his manager after she opens his beer bottle and he has a fucking girlfriend now.

Max wins WDC for the second year in a row. Leclerc is at second and Perez at third. He’s on the top of the fucking world. Everything feels right now that he’s standing at the top.

His eyes search for you in the crowd but he doesn't find you. Only Kelly. He kisses Kelly, celebrates with the team, and visits you in your hotel room later with a cold can of beer in hand. It's a little past midnight, his watch tells him. You open the door seconds after Max knocks.

“Have you talked to Horner?” you ask, accepting the beer and opening it. The loud click when you open it feels satisfying in his ears.

You’ve changed out of the Red Bull polo now and instead, you wear a black shirt.

“No,” Max shakes his head.

“When will you?”

“Soon.”

That's the only truth he can offer. Because the bigger truth is this: Max doesn't want you going anywhere, not even the engineering team who works closely with him. He only wants you here, beside him, behind him, at all times.

One more year. One more year and he's going to tell Christian to move you to the engineering team. One more year to have you and he’ll let you go.

(That's what he told himself last year, too.)

“Okay,” you nod and it relieves Max that you’re not arguing with him about it. “Congrats, Champ.”

You don't fly with him to Monaco. You don't fly with the team either. Instead, you fly to Texas immediately straight from Abu Dhabi. Max calls you once in the middle of break to greet you happy holidays and you mail him his gift—a clay keychain figure of him. He adds it to his keys, sitting right next to the beaded keychain you gave him back in 2020 and a bottle opener keychain in 2021.

2023

“Should I break up with Kelly?”

Your head snaps up at a speed that should be considered a hazard, stunned. You give Max a look that can be translated as: Did the g-force finally catch up to your brain?

“What prompted this?” you question, slowly setting Max’s laptop aside. You’re working on fixing his laptop’s wifi connection while he’s getting his makeup done for the Heineken ad filming. Once the makeup artist deemed him done and left the room, he immediately took the chance to ask the question.

“Nothing,” he lies.

“I’ll throw away your laptop if you don't tell me the truth,” you threaten.

“It's just—” Max pauses. His mouth feels dry. He licks his lips before continuing, “It’s just… I don't know how to explain it. It feels like I don't love Kelly anymore.”

I think I love you, [Name].

“Aight,” you grab a monoblock chair and drag it until it's right beside Max’s chair and plop your ass down. You sigh deeply before your face schools into complete seriousness. “Can't believe I’m the one givin’ you this talk. Uh, Max, you see, in a relationship, you typically experience this period called the honeymoon phase.”

Max nods slowly. He doesn't know where you're trying to get at but he clings on each word that leaves your mouth.

“The honeymoon phase can last anywhere from months to years and when it's done, the strong feelings and infatuation you have for Kelly decreases and that's natural. This is the stage where your bond with Kelly is strengthened,” you explain. “It's not all sunshine and rainbows. It can get boring. But the love is still there. It's just…well, less intense than before.”

He wants to ask if this happened to you and Leo as well, but he bites his tongue and says a different thing instead, “You give advice like a relationship guru.”

“Baby, I have a long list of ex-lovers. Kelly’s your first girlfriend. You don't have a say.”

Your birthday is near. Daniel shares to Max that he’s buying you a new ball cap this year, signed by your favorite professional billiard player. Max needs to give you something better.

He thinks about the things you like. He makes a list. It's a short one.

Beer

A spot in the engineering team.

Your family

He cannot give number three. He cannot give what you already have. He can give you number two but he doesn't want to. He doesn't want you to be anything other than his manager. He can give you number one but it'll be very lame of him if he gives you beer for your birthday. What is better than Daniel’s gift? What would you like more than a ballcap?

Max calls his sister that evening.

“Shoes,” she says. “Oh wait, that's a little hard. You might get her shoe size wrong.”

“She’s size 7. In Euro, 37,” Max states a little too quickly and a little too sure.

“How did you know her shoe size?” Victoria wonders.

“I don't know. I just watch her feet?”

“So, you estimated her shoe size by watching her feet like a creep?”

“I watch her feet a normal amount, Victoria,” Max insists.

“Max, I can't even tell my husband’s shoe size even if I stare at his feet for hours.”

“Maybe you just suck at estimating measurements.”

Max ends up getting the shoes with Victoria’s help. Victoria gets too irritated with him midway because he is too indecisive. He thinks all the shoes that’s displayed do not suit you.

It's not even this difficult when he’s picking shoes to give Kelly. Normally, he just asks the saleswoman to show him the most expensive or the latest in their stock and he buys it, instructs the storespeople to wrap it up and make sure the brand shows because Kelly likes it when the brand is big and bright and attention-grabbing.

“If you think nothing’s pretty enough then go get a custom made shoe,” she advises and then sighs in exasperation. Victoria shakes her head at him. It's not supposed to be a serious suggestion but Max takes it to heart.

Instead of black, Max goes for white. You rarely go in white clothing but when you do, you become so beautiful that Max has to stop himself from kneeling down in front of you and risking everything.

It has pearls and diamonds and satin. All beautiful things that reminded Max of you. Max wants, no, needs to see you put them on. He’s the one who puts it in a box. White-colored with peach stickers and a peach-colored ribbon.

Max plans to give them to you after he wins the Miami Grand Prix. But your family arrives just as he’s about to retrieve it from his driver’s room.

Max meets your family. A family that consists of happy parents and three brothers. You are your family’s unica hija.

Julio [Last Name], your father, is a big man and his accent is thicker than yours and he doesn't call you by your name, only the most affectionate-sounding mija. He reminds Max of a giant teddy bear. A giant teddy bear who crushes rocks for a living.

Your mother, on the other hand, is a stern-looking woman. Sally, her name was. She’s short, compared to you and her sons and her husband.

You have three brothers. One older—you call him Damiano. Two younger—Rafael and Dominic. You are more your mother than your father, Max notices. Appearance-wise anyway. Damiano, too. Sharp-looking, both of you. Your sharpness makes you look charming whereas your Damiano’s sharpness makes him look intimidating. Your two younger brothers are carbon copies of your father, a little round and with kinder looking features.

“Papa, Mama, Bro one, two, and three, this is Max,” you introduce him, smiling widely and you're doing that smile where you’re showing too much gums and your eyes are shaped like crescents. Happiness looks good on you.

He lets out an oof sound when your father engulfs him in a hug. Max hears you exclaim: “Papa!”

Max laughs and waves his hand to tell you that the hug is fine and is very much welcomed.

“Congratulations, Maxwell!” Julio claps Max’s shoulders.

“Papa, please,” you shake your head at your father’s antics. “It's just Max.”

“Ya want to join us for [Name]’s birthday?” Julio invites. Max catches your eyes. You mouth a no but Max shrugs and says, “Sure.”

Max joins the family dinner. It's held in a Mexican restaurant somewhere downtown. Originally, your family reserved a table for ten. But Max has gone ahead and reserved the entire restaurant by paying upfront. You slap Max’s hand but Max laughs and says, “Happy Birthday [Name].”

Over dinner, Maxs learns that Rafael, Dominic, and Damiano are the biggest motosport fans so they all talk about Formula One and occasionally MotoGP. He finds out that they're a big fan of Marc Marquéz. Max tells them that he knows Marc personally and shares his experiences with the man. He promises to send them the man’s signatures. You tell him that he doesn't have to. He tells you that it's his pleasure.

Max listens in attentively as Julio narrates his amazing tales about his work experience. You laugh at the surprised Pikachu face Max makes when Julio is telling the entire table about the creepy call he responded to just the other month. You and your mother occasionally join in on the conversation but are more comfortable with listening to the boys.

Later, you stand up to excuse yourself to go to the bathroom. Max stands from the table five minutes after you leave. He’s drunk too much soda so now he needs to take a piss.

“Are you okay?” Max asks as he catches you reapplying a layer of lipstick—a shade of nude rose—on the sink in front of the washroom.

You hold the lipstick in one hand but the other is holding your right arm, palm covering the word MANAGER printed on the sleeve of your Red Bull polo shirt like it's something to be ashamed about.

“Yeah.” A lie.

The rest of the night goes the way Max wants it. He almost wishes it won't end.

Kelly waits for him in his hotel room. She gives him a gift for winning P1. The shoe box in Max’s backpack remains untouched.

He’s got every country except Singapore, Saudi, and Azerbaijan under his belt. His third WDC is secure even if he loses Abu Dhabi, but Max is selfish. He still wants a P1 in Abu Dhabi so he fights and fights until no one can catch up because of how fast he was.

Kelly comes with him this time to watch him race and support him because it's the final race of the season and she also knows that Max is going to win WDC this year. P is over at her father right now so it's just the two of them.

“Babe!” Max looks up from his laptop. Kelly comes running in and Max’s eyes widened, horrified, when she sees that Kelly is holding it.

The white shoes.

Max stands abruptly. The laptop in his lap falls to the floor and shatters. He curses and crouches down to pick it up and save what he can save. When he looks up, Kelly is sitting on the bed now and is trying the shoes on. Max shoves the damaged laptop aside and strides towards her. He’ll deal with the laptop later.

“That's not—”

“Oh?” Kelly’s face morphs in confusion. “It doesn't fit.”

Kelly chuckles yet it sounds empty and dread pools in Max’s stomach.

“You bought me shoes many times already. There’s no way you’ll get my shoe size wrong.”

Max takes the shoes from her hand quickly and he puts them back carefully in the box.

“That's not for me,” Kelly states.

“It’s not for you,” Max echoes.

“Then who’s it for, Babe?”

Max doesn't answer. Instead, he avoids her gaze.

“Max Emilian Verstappen, who’s the shoes for?” Kelly is seething now.

For the first time in their two nearly three year long relationship, Max and Kelly get into a screaming argument. They get into arguments as all couples do, but never ones with screaming and crying and too much anger in one room.

“I can't go on like this anymore,” Kelly cries. “I can't. I let it go when you made me wait because you celebrated her birthday with her family. I let it go when you made her that crochet bag. I let it go when you bought a billiard table and brought it into our home because she likes playing billiards—”

“I tried breaking up with you!” Max roars and he sees Kelly flinch. “And you told me not to. You used Penelope so I wouldn't break up with you—”

“Do not even say my daughter's name—”

“It's true!” Max throws his hands in the air like a man gone mad. “I told you in fucking July that I think I’m losing feelings for you! You told me to not break up with you because Penelope already thinks of me as her father and it’ll break her heart if I kick you out of my house! I am NOT her father, Kel, her father’s Daniil! You only want me because I can give you everything you want! Money, pride, and a fucking father figure for your child!”

Kelly strikes his cheek. Sharp, fast, and strong. Max remains still in shock and stares ahead.

Kelly has officially become the second person in this world who has raised a hand at Max.

“I hate you,” Kelly utters it with so much intensity. “I hate you. We’re done.”

She leaves quickly.

Max’s phone buzzes.

you: hey champ. race is on in an hour n a half. u good to go?

max: yeah

max: i’ll be there soon

you: i’ll wait for u

max: you always do

Max races with the guilt that he's a cheating asshole. His mother will not be proud of it once she learns that her son has dated a girl and idiotically realized that he’s in love with his manager halfway through the relationship.

Despite the emotional turmoil that swirling inside him, Max takes P1 and becomes a third-time WDC. He celebrates with the team. You excuse yourself, saying you have something important to do, and Max doesn't bother asking you to stay because he knows he’ll visit you in your hotel room later with a cold can of beer. It’s become your ritual now.

He drinks with Daniel, Yuki, and Checo. Five bottles in, he spills everything. He pukes. It tastes disgusting. His world turns into a hazy blur. You came to his rescue because that's what you always do.

Max is so dumb for taking so long in realizing that he's in love with you. It's always been you. You and your dumb considerate attitude and your snarky personality and your crude mouth. He never realized how horrifyingly enormous his desire for you is until its right there in front of him with its mouth wide open, ready to swallow him whole.

you: landed

you: thanks for the jet

you: talk soon gotta get to papa 1st

max: ok

max: stay safe

max: your dad will be alright dont worry

you: i hope so

It has been seven days since the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix, three days since you left Monaco, two days since your last conversation in Instagram, and a day before Max flies to Belgium to celebrate the holidays with his mother and sister and his sister’s family.

max: are you okay?

max: just landed in belgium

max: mum and vic says hi

max: hey it's been a week now

max: is your dad okay?

max: im worried

max: call me soon please

max: happy holidays

max: or merry christmas

max: whatever you celebrate there in america

max: yeah i greeted a little too early

max: you didn't answer my call

max: im friends with logan now by the way

max: we talk at times

max: im trying to get him into sim racing

max: maybe it'll help him improve

max: happy holidays

max: i called your cell

max: you know christian just told me something funny

max: he sent an email this morning with a list of candidates for my 2024 manager

max: he said you resigned

max: very funny

max: please tell me you didn't

[pucksandpower]

Grid Kids: First Times

Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers

Summary: they know you’re their mom … you know they’re your kids … but these are the first times you all say so out loud

Series Masterlist

Max Verstappen: Champion of the World

The roar of the engines has faded, the race has ended, and the stands are filled with jubilant cheers. Among the sea of fans waving flags, the color of the Orange Army is predominant. Max Verstappen has just clinched his first World Championship.

As confetti rains down, Max climbs atop his car, soaking in the euphoria. His face displays a myriad of emotions: triumph … relief … elation. During the celebratory chaos, he searches for a familiar face, and as his eyes find yours, a calm settles over him.

As you approach, he jumps down and without a moment’s hesitation pulls you into a tight embrace. Over the din, he murmurs something almost inaudible.

“Thanks, Mom.”

You pull back, a bit taken aback. The weight of the single word isn’t lost on either of you. Max, ever the tough racer, has tears glistening in his eyes.

He clears his throat, trying to mask the emotion, “I mean, after everything, you’ve been like a second mom to me. I couldn’t have done it without your support.”

Sebastian joins the moment, a proud smile on his face. “Welcome to the champions’ club,” he jokes but the underlying pride in his voice is unmistakable.

You wipe away a tear, “I’ve always believed in you, Max. And no matter what, you’ll always be one of my grid kids.”

Charles Leclerc: What If

The race is intense, the energy palpable. But in a split second, the exhilaration turns to horror as Charles’ car careens off track, crashing into the barriers. The scene is chilling and the paddock holds its collective breath.

Time seems to stretch endlessly until, finally, the screens show Charles moving inside his cockpit. It's a sign — he's conscious. When he is carefully extricated from the wreckage and gives a thumbs-up to the cameras, relief washes over everyone.

As he is taken to the medical center, your grid kids gather, their usual playful banter replaced by anxious glances and silent support.

When you’re finally allowed to see Charles, his face is pale, eyes reflecting the trauma of the crash. Despite the bandages and evident pain, he manages a small smile upon seeing you.

“Hey,” he whispers, voice hoarse.

You lean over, brushing the hair from his forehead, your touch filled with motherly concern. “Hey yourself. You gave us all quite the scare.”

He swallows hard, gaze locking onto yours, vulnerability evident. “I thought ... for a moment there ... I thought I wouldn’t ...” he trails off, the gravity of the incident heavy in the room.

You take his hand, offering comfort and strength. “But you’re here, Charles. You’re here.”

He nods, tears forming. And then, in a voice filled with raw emotion, he murmurs, “Thank you, Mom.”

The title that slips out isn’t one of blood or birth but of bond and heart.

You squeeze his hand, “Always, Charles. Always.”

Lance Stroll: Who Needs Wrists Anyway?

After Sebastian’s retirement, life quiets down somewhat. The raucous race weekends are replaced with peaceful moments gardening and beekeeping. But the bond with your grid kids remains as strong as ever.

One evening, a call disturbs the calm. Lance had taken a hard fall while biking and had broken both his wrists. The news shakes you, memories of crashes flooding back. Without hesitation, you pack a bag and book the next flight out to be by his side.

When you enter Lance’s room, you're struck by the sight before you. Both his hands are in casts, his usually playful eyes clouded with pain and frustration. However, seeing you brings a faint smile to his face.

“You didn’t have to come,” he starts, though the gratefulness in his tone betrays him.

You chuckle, pulling a chair beside his bed, “How could I not? I can’t let you starve or wear the same clothes for weeks.”

Lance laughs, “Well, there’s always the option of going commando.”

You both chat, the room filled with light-hearted banter in an attempt to lift the mood. As you prepare to leave for the night after ensuring he is comfortable and has everything he needs, Lance’s voice halts you.

“You know,” he starts, hesitating, “Even after Seb retired, you still ... you’re still here for us, for me. It means a lot.”

You turn back, smiling gently. “Once a family, always a family.”

He swallows, emotion causing his voice to waver, “Thanks, Mom.”

You reach out to squeeze his arm in comfort but remember the reason for your visit. Pulling back before you could hurt Lance, you say, “Get some rest. We’ve got a lot of healing to do.”

George Russell: King of PowerPoint

The rookies sit in the dim room, fidgeting in their chairs, their faces a mix of excitement and nervousness. They’re about to receive their initiation presentation by none other than George Russell, now the Director of the GPDA — an annual tradition to welcome the new drivers, give them insights into the world of F1, and ensure they understand the guidelines, all while keeping it light and enjoyable. It’s also an excuse to give a PowerPoint … and George never turns down an opportunity to put his prowess to good use.

George steps up to the podium, clicking the remote to begin his presentation. The slides cover everything from safety protocols to media interactions. But then, a slide pops up with a familiar face on the screen: yours.

The title reads: “The Heart of Our F1 Family”

George pauses, taking a deep breath. “Now, for those of you new to Formula 1, there’s someone you need to know, someone who has been instrumental for many of us drivers, both on and off the track.”

He clicks to the next slide, showcasing a larger image of you, radiant in the middle of a race weekend while giving one of your famous pep talks to the grid kids.

“This,” George says, voice filled with warmth, “is Y/N Vettel. To the world, she’s known for her contributions to the sport, her philanthropy, and so much more. But to many of us drivers,” he glances at the familiar faces of the other grid kids sitting at the back, “she’s known simply as Mom.”

There’s a hushed silence, the emotional weight of the moment evident.

“She’s our anchor, our guiding light, and sometimes,” George grins, “our stern disciplinarian. If you ever find yourselves needing advice or just someone to talk to, you know where to turn. Welcome to Formula 1!”

Lando Norris: Stream and Shout

Lando is live on Twitch, engaging with thousands upon thousands of fans from around the world while deeply engrossed in a racing simulation game — swerving, overtaking, and trying to claim the top spot. Along with the intense gaming, he’s also juggling questions from fans.

“Hey Lando, any tips for new racers?” one fan asks.

“Just keep training, mate. And don’t get disheartened by failures,” Lando replies, narrowly avoiding a virtual crash.

Another question pops up in the chat, “Who’s been your biggest supporter in F1?”

Lando doesn’t hesitate. “Well, there’s my team, my family, and of course,” he pauses as he navigates a tricky turn on his screen, “there’s Y/N. She is ... well, she’s like a mom to many of us on the grid. Actually,” he corrects himself with a grin, leaning closer to the mic, “She IS mom.”

Fans catch on quickly, and the chat floods with comments.

“Mom? That’s so sweet!”

“Tell us more about her!”

Lando chuckles, “She’s just ... amazing. Always there, always supportive. We’ve had our fair share of fun, chaos, and love. If you’re ever around the paddock, you’ll know. Y/N is magnetic in the best way.”

Mick Schumacher: Drunken Adoration

The end-of-season party is in full swing. It is a tradition where everyone lets loose by either celebrating their successes or shrugging off the stress of the competitive year. The atmosphere is electric with loud music, laughter, and the clinking of glasses.

Mick has perhaps indulged a bit too much. His usually composed and calm demeanor is replaced with a giddy, slightly wobbly version of himself.

As you navigate through the crowd, ensuring everyone was having a good time and not getting into too much trouble, you find Mick seated at the bar, a glass of something strong in his hand.

“Hey!” you call out, approaching him, “Having fun?”

Mick turns, his eyes slightly glazed but recognizing you instantly. A wide smile spreads across his face, “Hey! You know, you’re really awesome.” He slurs, the alcohol evident in his speech.

Laughing, you reply, “Thanks, Mick. Maybe we should switch to water now?”

He shakes his head, trying to focus. “No, no, you don’t get it. You’re not just awesome. You’re ... you’re like ... my mom. Like, a second mom. But also the first because you’re always there and ... you get it, right?”

You chuckle, moved by his inebriated but sincere confession. “I get it, Mick. And thank you. That means a lot.”

Helping him off the stool, you decide it’s time to get him some coffee and maybe a sandwich. “Come on, let’s sober you up a bit.”

As you lead him away, Mick continues to mumble about how great you are, his drunken words filled with genuine affection.

The party continues but for you, that heartfelt albeit tipsy confession is the highlight of the evening.

You: Sons and Spotlights

It’s a grand evening and the room glistens with opulence. Influential personalities from various fields gather, all in the name of charity and giving back. The annual International Philanthropy Awards Gala is an event where the most generous hearts are recognized, and this year, you’re among the honorees.

As you take the stage to accept the award for your contributions to various charities, the spotlight shines brightly but among the crowd, you spot familiar faces — Charles, Max, Lando, Mick, George, and Lance sitting next to your husband. Their presence is unexpected but deeply touching

You begin your speech, gratitude evident in every word, “Giving back is a principle I have always lived by. We are blessed in so many ways and it’s our duty to share those blessings with others.” As you continue, mentioning the various charities and initiatives you work with, an overwhelming wave of emotion grips you.

Taking a moment to compose yourself, you glance once more at your grid kids and say, “I have had many titles over the years — friend, daughter, wife — but one that has been among the most precious to me is simply being Mom.”

The room seems to hold its collective breath.

“These young men,” you continue, gesturing towards them, “are my sons in every way that matters. Not by birth but by bond. Charles, Max, George, Lando, Mick, and Lance are my source of strength, joy, and sometimes, a bit of frustration,” you add with a twinkle in your eye, causing a ripple of laughter.

“But more than anything, they are my family. And tonight, in this room filled with so many esteemed individuals, I want to take a moment to thank my sons. For their love, for their constant support, and for making me the best possible version of myself.”

As applause fills the room, your grid kids stand, pride evident in their glassy eyes that mirror your own, joining the crowd in honoring you. They might be champions on the track, but off it, they are just sons, celebrating their mom.

Bonus: A Family Holiday

Mother’s Day arrives and you wake to find a beautiful bouquet of flowers on your doorstep accompanied by a heartfelt note that reads:

For the woman who has been a mother to us all.

Touched by the gesture, you make your way to the living room. As you enter, warm smiles greet you and the scent of a homemade breakfast wafts through the air.

“Happy Mother’s Day!” your grid kids chorus, raising their glasses.

Max grins, “We know you’re not our biological mom but you’ve definitely earned the title.”

Charles, holding a tray with a stack of pancakes, adds, “We couldn’t ask for a better mentor and friend.”

Lance, with a card in hand, steps forward, “And we wanted to show our appreciation.”

You take the card, and as you read, your heart swells. It’s filled with their personal messages, anecdotes, and memories — marking the journey you’ve all shared.

George, holds out a gift bag with a sheepish grin, “We thought you might like this.”

Inside the bag is a beautiful necklace with six interconnected rings, each representing one of your grid kids. It symbolizes the bond you share, a connection as unbreakable as those rings.

Tears well up in your eyes, “This ... this is so thoughtful.”

Mick smiles softly, “You’ve always been there, through everything. This is just a small token of our gratitude.”

You pull them all into a group hug, the love and warmth radiating through the room. “Thank you, my sons. This means the world to me.”

And as you all sit down to enjoy the homemade (only slightly charred) breakfast, the simple yet emotional celebration of Mother's Day reminds you that family isn’t just about blood ties. It’s about the connections forged through shared experiences, tireless support, and love that transcends convention.

[scuderiasundays]

better together

summary: airline lounges, box box widgets, and a cheesy greeting card 💌

words: 1,045

a/n: the romcom girlie in me has always wanted to write a meet-cute and i've been listening to too much lizzy mcalpine! tagging @vamossainz55, @sainzcaleruega, @monzabee, @ssainzz, @diorleclerc, and @userlando just because. let me know if you'd want a part two! hugs and kisses 🫶🏼

Love comes when you least expect it. Those same old words had fallen from the lips of every person you knew, so much so that they now felt weightless. On this particular evening, you found yourself at your best friend’s wedding reception, zoning out at the open bar. You nodded along as some man who’d had one too many G&T’s rambled on about his meet-cute on the Paris metro. Seeing two people you adored make a lifelong commitment only reaffirmed the fact that you craved the same.

It was no secret you weren’t exactly the MVP of the single scene. On any given night out, you’d leave the club before midnight to get a full eight-hour snooze. Dating apps were a no-no, as reruns of Catfish had made you skeptical about “finding the one” online. At work, you kept a low profile, socializing just enough to have a tight circle of work friends. It was as if you were coasting on autopilot, wanting love but hesitant to steer towards it.

Not to say that being single was all bad. Every hard-earned dollar was invested right back into the things you loved: trips, clothes, and your dog Cannoli. You silently weighed the pros and cons of your lifestyle as you stepped into the airline lounge.

Setting down your latest read to save your seat, you made your way to the breakfast buffet and grabbed a plate of avocado toast, poached eggs, and a glass of orange juice. On your way back, you spotted someone in a hoodie and cap making themselves at home in the armchair opposite yours.

The whole lounge was virtually empty, and this just had to be his seat of choice? You slowly approached from behind and let out a quiet gasp as you noticed them flipping through your book. “Love languages, huh?” The man pointed at the cover and smiled.

Your pupils dilated twice their size as you registered just who it was. The fan-made bracelets, the Leica, and, most of all, the signature McLaren cap—it all fell into place. “My manager and I just got into a huge argument, and honestly, I’d rather be anywhere but with him right now. Do you mind if I-" He gestured towards the seat beside you, his eyes radiating a silent plea.

“No problem. Let me give you your space,” you responded, hastily gathering your things. Just as you were about to step away, his hand gently clasped your wrist. “I could use the company. I’m Bob, by the way,” he mumbled, oblivious to the fact that his cover was blown.

As in, you knew he was currently seventh place in the driver’s championship and slowly but surely climbing up the standings. The last thing he needed was for you to bring any of that up, so you did as he said, trying to give him a sense of normalcy he so deserved.

He headed to the breakfast buffet and returned with the very items you had selected. "Copying me?" you teased. “First step in getting to know you,” he grinned. Curious about your life, he asked about your job in the emergency room. You told him the hours were grueling but watching extremely sick patients leave healthy made it all worthwhile. "Hope I never end up being your patient," he joked.

His interest didn't stop there; he inquired about siblings (only child), your dream vacation destination (Antibes), and whether you were a dog or cat person (not even a question). You, being a proud dog mom, wanted to show your furry guy off and handed Lando your phone.

As he squinted at your phone, you heard him say, "7 days to go. United States Grand Prix." A wave of panic washed over you as you remembered the Box Box widget that also occupied your screen. The silence was deafening as you wished the ground would swallow you up. 

“Let me see the app,” He said. You normally wouldn’t have acquiesced so quickly, but you crumbled and unlocked your phone. He appeared to scroll and click a few things before he handed it back. “Widget Preferences. Constructor: McLaren? Driver: Lando Norris?” You asked as you noticed he’d made some selections.

“You hadn’t bothered with the preferences, so I took the liberty of choosing.” He blushed as the awkwardness of it all hung in the air. “That doesn’t feel fair. I’ve had all this time to get to know you, and I can’t say the same for the other drivers.” You teasingly retorted.

“I'll let the guys know they're in a tight race for your heart." He snickered. The man was on the verge of tears when his manager came by to remind him of his impending flight. “Flight’s in an hour, Lando,” snapped him right back to reality.

He entrusted you with his bags as he ran out to run a quick pre-flight errand. You couldn’t help but squeal the second Lando had vanished from view. What kind of magic was in the air at this airport and could it be bottled?

You tapped through your best friend’s Instagram stories as you awaited his return. The nearly empty lounge echoed as Lando asked a nearby gentleman for a pen and jotted something down. Breathless, he handed you a card, urging you to read it later.

"Your shoelace is untied," he mentioned, and as he bent down to tie it, his blue-green eyes met yours. 

The British racing driver left your life in the abrupt way he had entered it. You took in the card, decked out with drawings of mac and cheese, milk and cereal, and avocado and toast, captioned "Better Together" at the bottom.

It was the only card in the store, but it felt just right. You highlighted “words of affirmation” as your love language, so I thought I’d give this a go. Thanks for keeping me company. Talk soon? - LN 

His number was scribbled at the end. You quickly changed your lock screen widget to showcase his stats and took a screenshot to send his way.

New look. I might be biased, but I think you just became my favorite driver. Let's see if you can keep it up.

He replied right away.

I like the sound of that. When can I see you again?

[sweetbans29]

Bowling - CC

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Reader

Summary: Date night with Caitlin - headcanon (based on THIS request)

Warnings: nothing, fluff

Word Count: 1.2k

Sweetbans Masterlist

AN: I am a huge fan of bowling. Am I good? No. I used to go weekly with friends and had gotten progressively worse.

You told Caitlin you wanted to go out for a date night but wanted to do something normal. Caitlin, of course, was completely on board and said she loves normal. You laughed at her and know the two of you have a different idea of normal. Your idea of normal was going out and having a fun night with your girl - maybe some sort of activity like bowling or an escape room. On the other side of that, your girlfriend is the single most competitive person you know. Sometimes not to her advantage. She hates to lose. And you don't blame her but she takes it to a whole other level. You thought it would be different with you, but you were very wrong.

"Okay, you owe...$320," you say and you hear her puff. "No way in hell do I owe that much," she says as her blood begins to boil. "Do you think I am lying?" You say with a laugh, you pass her the property card and point out the hotel cost. "I own this property and it had a hotel on it, therefore it is $320. Pay up, babe!" She reluctantly hands you the fake money and she rolls the dice again, landing on doubles again. She moves her piece the number of spaces and lets out another angry groan when she lands on another spot of yours. You tell how much she owes you but she refuses. "If you refuse - that means you forfeit and therefore lose," you tell her and she gets up. "This is stupid," she says and walks away from the table. "Hey, you are the one that chose the game - I am just playing it with you. It is not my fault that you don't know how to play Monopoly," you call out to her. She mutters a string of profanities and waves you off. You packed up the game and went to find your girl. She was lying in bed with a replay of a game on the TV. You come over and poke at her leg. She moves it away from you. "Babe, come on," you say and sit facing her. She doesn't say anything and keeps her attention on the game. Sighing, you move to sit next to her and try to cuddle into her side. She doesn't initially move as you wrap your arm around her waist and put your head on her shoulder. It was only when you began to fall asleep that you felt Caitlin's arm shift, bringing you to her side and rub your back. You know she isn't mad at you and you learned how her drive to win wasn't only on the court - it was in all areas of life.

You knew when you told Caitlin that you wanted to go out and do something that it would have to be something that she was decent at. So when you suggested either bowling or an escape room, she chose bowling.

It was a Thursday night and the two of you had just gotten to the bowling alley. You both got your shoes and headed to your lane, grabbing your choice of ball on the way.

You finish putting your shoes on and look over at your girl. "Ready love?" You ask and give her a hug. She kisses the top of your head. "You'll still love me regardless of how this game goes, right?" You ask in a joking manner. "Mmmhmm," she responds but you are not satisfied with her answer. You pull away and look at her. "Caitlin, you will love me regardless of who wins, correct?" You are looking her dead in the eye now as you wait for her response. "Of course, babe. Of course," she says as she leans down to give you a kiss. You turn your head so she kisses your cheek instead of you lips. "Good, because you are going down." You say sweetly and begin your turn.

The two of you took every frame like it was the championship game. You had made your tone clear that this wasn't going to be a friendly game but rather a full-blown competition - completely abandoning your initial stance of a 'normal' date. You knew that any time the two of you did something competitive it would never be normal. The game is neck and neck.

You step up, ball in hand. It is the last frame and Caitlin is up by 13. She got a spare in the final frame putting her comfortably in the lead. You would need to do the same to put yourself within winning distance. "Don't mess up," your girlfriend says in a teasing tone. You know she is nervous when she tries to get in your head. You take a deep breath and bowl. You get a strike. A smile dawning your face before as you walk to grab another ball to finish the game off. You finish off the frame, beating Caitlin by 4. You walk over to shake her hand but she just sits there with her arms crossed. "Babe, you did good - that was the best game either of us have bowled." You tell her as you squat in front of her, putting your hands on her crossed arms. She rolls her eyes and lets out a cute little huff. "Come on - there is still time for you to beat me in the arcade," you say and she stands. She begins walking to the arcade area but not before grabbing your hand to make sure you are with her.

Before you get too far you bring her back to change your shoes out. She was so focused on going to the arcade that she forgot she was still wearing her bowling shoes.

Once you both return the shoes, Caitlin and you walk hand in hand to the arcade games. As focused as she is on winning - she makes sure you are next to her.

You follow her around and play all the games that Caitlin wants. You don't take it easy on her but you do let her take the lead every now and again. You love winning but you love your girl more.

She ends up winning more tickets than you and is happy with her win. The two of you head over to the prize counter and she chooses a Nerf basketball while you choose candy and a little plastic dino.

When the two of you get home, you lounge on the couch. She turns on some game highlights and you curl up next to her. "I love you, but we should never do anything that involves a winner and a loser for a date ever again," you say. She lets out a little laugh and rubs your shoulder. "I think we can - we just need it to be on a group date and we need to be on the same team," she says and kisses the top of your head. "Ooo I like the way you think, I can call Lexi and her boyfriend - maybe we can go on a double date next weekend," you say scrolling through your phone. Caitlin laughs and brings you closer to her. "Whatever you want, babe," Caitlin says.

AN: I can't imagine Caitlin not being competitive but let me know what you think. And as always, thank you for your love and support 🤍

[cllightning81]

Favour

Summary : You need help during a race weekend and after asking everyone you could, Liam suggests you ask Max an old friend

Pairing/s: Max Fewtrell x Engineer!Single Mum!Reader, Paul Aron x Engineer!Reader (Platonic)

Appearances : Bryan Bozzi, Liam Lawson, Oscar Piastri, Lando Norris, Oliver Oakes

Warning/s : Mention of death

Word Count : 5.3k

Masterlist

Max Fewtrell Masterlist

Tag List

Being a race engineer was hard enough as it is, but being a race engineer with a little baby was even harder. Normally, you were able to find someone within Hitech to watch your baby girl -Aurora- but this week everyone was a little bit more busy than normal 

“You know if I wasn’t racing I’d watch Rory” Paul smiled, waving his hands at the baby in your arms 

“I know you would, Paul, but we’re on pole today, and we’re going to convert it to a win” You smiled, rubbing his shoulder 

“I want to top the championship again” You nodded with a proud smile 

“We’re going to get you there” You nodded, placing Rory down on the office floor. Going over the data from last year and the last race with Paul was not as easy as it looked because he was always getting distracted by the smallest things, including Rory, who was playing with her toys. 

It was an hour later when you were walking through the F1 paddock to meet up with Bryan, who you were helping slightly with his new role within Ferrari. Sat in the Ferrari meeting room with Rory in a sling as you talked Bryan through some basic information he’d need to know for this race about the race engineering side of things. 

“You don’t fancy babysitting, do you?” You asked Bryan as you walked out of the Ferrari garage 

“Sorry I’ve still got my performance coach jobs to do” You nodded 

“Was worth a shot anyway” You sighed 

“Hey Y/N” Liam smiled instantly, going to play with Rory like the biggest child he was. 

“Hey there, sweets. Hey, what are you saying today, hmm?” Liam asked Aurora 

“She’s asking if her favourite non-biological uncle wants to babysit her?” You asked with a smile

“Sorry Y/N/N VCARBS got me on standby cause Yuki isn’t feeling the best after his crash yesterday” You sighed with a nod 

“Well good luck if that happens” You smiled, rubbing his shoulder. Liam was your first driver when you joined Hitech, but at that point, you were still on probation and starting to learn everything. 

“Max is in the Mclaren garage though” He shrugged, and you smiled 

“Liam Lawson, you are the best. I really hope you get that seat, but I’ll keep the rest of my opinions to myself” You hugged him as he said bye to Aurora. Walking back to the F2 paddock, you searched out the old phone number you hadn’t used in a very long time. 

You and Max used to be close because he was good friends with Liam and used to hang around the Hitech garage and being the same age it was easy to get along with him. 

You sat Aurora down on a play mat in the meeting room as you sat to work on quick information before qualifying for the day. Paul walked in a couple of minutes later, sitting down opposite you with his elbows on the table and head resting on his hands 

“Hello there, Mr Aron” You looked at him, and he smiled 

“There’s a guy here to see you” He smirked, and you frowned 

“A guy? Does this guy have a name?” You asked, glancing at Aurora to make sure she’s okay. 

“Max. That’s all he said, but it’s Norris’ friend Max. I can’t remember his last name” He shrugged, getting up and walking out

“Paul” you called, and he stuck his head in through the door 

“Tell him where I am? He knows his way about” You asked with a polite smile 

“Only cause I’ve got to listen to you” You chuckled, turning back to the data finishing up the report you were writing for Paul. There was a knock on the door, and you turned to look at it. A smile grew on your face as you spotted Max waving him in as Aurora waved her hands at the new figure. 

“Hey stranger” He smiled, and you chuckled a little 

“I’m not the stranger. You’re the one that doesn’t visit” 

“Touche” Max nodded, and you motioned him to sit down, to which he sat down next to you 

“Still focused on data, I see” You nodded

“You know I’m a sucker for some good data” You shrugged, and he nodded 

“So how are you doing?” He asked 

“Stressed but happy, I guess” You shrugged 

“How about you? Saw you’ve gained quite a few followers on twitch” You smiled, and he nodded 

“Yeah. Taking a break from racing was really the thing that I needed, and I’m glad I did it” You smiled 

“I’m glad to hear you’re doing better” You nodded as Aurora clapped her hands. You looked down at her, picking her up 

“This little cutie, why you’re stressed?” He asked as Rory grabbed his finger 

“Yeah she’s also the massive favour I need” You bit your lip, and he nodded 

“Need a babysitter?” He asked, and you nodded 

“You’re totally free to say no. I know you’ve never actually met her in person and just seen pictures on instagram, but if you could, I would be so grateful and would pay you back however you wanted” You sighed 

“Can I?” He asked, holding his arms out, and you nodded, handing her over 

“She likes attention, so as long as she’s got that she’s the happiest baby ever” you explained, and he nodded 

“I’m sorry about your boyfriend. I just know he would have been the greatest dad” You nodded with a sigh 

“She looks so much like him sometimes it hurts” Max placed a hand on your knee, gently caressing it 

“Sorry I shouldn’t have brought it up” You placed your hand on top of his gently, holding his hand 

“Do you need a babysitter all weekend?” You nodded 

“Unfortunately. I can normally find someone within the team or someone that I know, but unfortunately I’m not able to this weekend” Max nodded 

“Then I’ll watch her all weekend if you need” He smiled, and you hugged him 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you” You smiled, letting out a breath 

“But I’m taking her to the Mclaren garage tomorrow” You chuckled 

“Forget about your own past then and go to your future” You joked, and he jokingly shoved you away 

“But honestly, whatever you want in return I’ll do it” You sat back, rubbing your face in relief 

“Go on a date with me” He whispered, and you looked at him

“What?” You asked 

“I’ve been wanting to ask you for years and now that you’re due me something in return I feel like now is the perfect time to ask” He hummed with a slight smirk hidden underneath a smile 

“Fine. On Sunday as payment” You nodded, and he smiled, looking at the wall 

“You need to get ready for qualifying. I’ll wait in here with this cutie” He smiled 

“Aurora or Rory. I think you probably already knew that though” Max nodded 

“I did. I follow you on instagram and check up on you every so often” You chuckled, getting up kissing Rory’s head 

“Thank you again, Max. If she needs her diaper changed there’s diapers in my office. Same place that it used to be. She’s been fed, so she’ll be fine until after qualifying. Any other worries, please just text me. Don’t even think about crossing the pit lane” Max nodded 

“Please don’t worry about her. I promise she’ll be okay in my care. Are you okay if I call LN over, though?” He asked, and you nodded 

“Yeah it’s fine” You smiled, grabbing your pass and walking out of the meeting room. You let out a breath, knowing that you could do your job without worrying about Rory. 

And that’s what you did. Paul had a good qualifying session for both the sprint and feature race. Once that was over, you quickly rushed back to the meeting room. Max was sitting on the floor with Rory, who was giggling at him as she pulled on his beard. You chuckled, sitting down at the desk as Max looked up at you 

“She’s a little cutie, but she’s also a trouble child” You nodded with a laugh 

“Did I forget to mention that part?” You joked 

“Do you need me to stay until after the debrief?” Max asked 

“That would be really helpful, but I’m not sure that’s allowed” you replied, and he nodded 

“What if I take her for a walk? Is she due a nap?” He asked, and you nodded 

“Actually that would be really helpful. If I put her in the pram, would you be okay with taking her for a walk?” You asked 

“I wouldn’t have offered it if it wasn’t okay. I can walk her over to the F1 paddock, and you can get her from there when you’re done for the day” He suggested 

“Thank you again, Max. I really appreciate this just being sprung on you after us not talking for ages”

“For this little troublesome cutie I’d do it more often if you needed” You chuckled 

“Trust me, you won’t be saying that by Sunday night” You smiled, grabbing her pram from the side of the room before building it and putting her in it. You gave her her binkie before turning to Max. 

“Okay she should be good until I’m finished for the day” You smiled, and he nodded, walking with her just as everyone started filling the room. After debriefing, you packed up Rory’s toys and your own stuff before walking over to the F1 paddock and over to the Mclaren garage. 

“Hey Y/N” Oscar smiled, standing at his car 

“Hey Oscar. Have you seen Max?” You asked, and he pointed towards Lando’s side of the garage

“Thanks” You walked over and into the garage, smiling at the mechanics that you knew 

“There she is” Max smiled gently, rocking the pram 

“Hey babysitting, looking good on you” you joked, looking into the pram

“She makes it easy” You laughed as he let you take the pram 

“Thank you again. I’ll text you later with my meeting times and all that kind of thing” Max nodded 

“See you tomorrow” You walked out of the Mclaren garage, ready for the best sleep of your week. 

When the next day rolled around and you were walking into the F2 paddock, you knew that Rory was going to be in safe hands and that you just had to be ready for the race ahead. 

Max was standing outside the Hitech garage leaning against one of the walls, talking to one of the mechanics he knew as Rory played with our hands strapped to your chest 

“Hey Y/N” Max smiled as you walked over 

“Hey there, Mr Babysitter” you joked

“Is the nugget ready for her big day with lots of affection?” Max asked, and you nodded 

“She sure is, but I’m gonna keep her for the morning if that’s okay” Max nodded 

“Of course it is. Want me there?” He asked 

“If you don’t mind sitting on the floor with her again” Max shook his head 

“Would be my pleasure” You smiled, leading him inside and to the meeting room that was going to be used for the day. Setting up Rory’s stuff on the floor before setting her on the floor beside Max 

“Thank you again Max” You smiled, and he nodded. Sitting down to do morning brief, Paul walked in, instantly going over to Aurora

“Hey maiustus (sweets)” Paul smiled, squishing her cheeks

“Paul please sit down, the whole team is just waiting on you” You complained and he sat down going over yesterday’s data and things that had to be done today to get a good finish in the sprint. 

Once all the other members of the team had finally left, you turned around to Rory. Paul was still sitting next to you as he scrolled through his phone, definitely avoiding his trainer but not wanting to admit it. Rory reached her arms up with a giggle as you picked her up 

“Hey little troublemaker” You kissed her head as you got up from the seat, Max, stretching his back as you chuckled at him 

“I know I said she needs attention to be happy, but you don’t have to sit on the floor with her” You smiled as he got up 

“Easier to get down to her level rather than bring her up to mine” He shrugged 

“She likes sitting on the table” you shrugged, closing the meeting room door and pulling the blinds down so that no one could see in as you heard Paul whine 

“Thought you were hiding me, but I just saw the time” You laughed, ruffling his hair as you sat down again 

“You really need to go start your warm up and do media though Paul” You sighed, feeding Rory as Paul groaned, getting up 

“Only cause I wanna win” You laughed as Max stood awkwardly 

“You can sit Fewtrell” You chuckled at his face. Poor guy was uncomfortable even being in the same room as you fed Aurora. 

“I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable” He frowned, and you shrugged 

“I’ve been doing this for the past four months with strangers. We’re not strangers. Therefore, I don’t care” you replied, looking up at him as he sat down. 

A little while later, Aurora was finished feeding, burped, and had her diaper changed before you handed her over to Max for the day who was taking her over to the Mclaren motorhome. You explained where everything in her bag was kept along with how to warm some milk up in case she needed it. Max assured you multiple times that she would be okay and that you could just come to the Mclaren garage to get her at the end of the day. 

Throughout the day, Max was subject to some teasing from Lando about his babysitting as Lando knew about his crush on you and had for many years. 

Once the race and debrief were done, you were finally able to leave the F2 paddock with Paul trailing behind you because he didn’t want to be alone again. In reality, he was hiding from the ice bath he was meant to be in, but he’d never admit that to anyone. 

“Hey Y/L/N” Andrea Stella smiled as you walked over to the Mclaren garage 

“Hey. I’m looking for Lando. Well I’m assuming he’s with Lando” You shrugged 

“Oh he’s in the hospitality with Max and a random child?” He frowned, and you nodded 

“Perfect. That’s my second born” you joked, nudging your head in Paul’s direction. Andrea laughed 

“I’m on three or so now” He joked, and you laughed 

“They learn to listen any better any time?” You asked, and he shook his head with a laugh 

“No. Never” You laughed, shaking your head 

“Damn it. Well I’m gonna find my baby and her newest babysitters” You walked off to the Mclaren hospitality with Paul trailing behind you, scrolling through his phone. You walked inside, looking about as Paul instantly walked over to Rory, picking her up off the table. You followed him over, rolling your eyes as Paul picked up his role with Rory. 

At this point, Paul was like Rory’s big brother, and there was nothing you could do to stop how much he actually loved your little girl. You took another picture as you leaned against the chair Max was sitting in, smiling at Lando, and Oscar was sitting opposite him. 

“Hey. Looked like a good race” Max smiled up at you as you nodded 

“Hey. It was a very good race considering the pit stop errors” You shrugged, and he nodded 

“How was Aurora?” You asked him, looking over at Paul and Aurora

“Think I’ve got a bald spot in my beard now. However, apart from that, she was an angel” Max shrugged, showing you a picture of Rory sitting in Lando’s car. You chuckled 

“If she looked tiny in the F2 cars, she looked even smaller in that F1 car” You chuckled, and he laughed 

“You in a rush out of here?” Max asked, and you shook your head 

“Nope. I do need to stop by and see Liam, though. Wish him luck for tomorrow” You shrugged, and Max pulled out the seat next to him, and you sat down

“Still wouldn’t move up to F1?” Oscar asked, and you looked over at Rory and Paul, who were sat on the floor 

“I think if Paul was to move up, then I would, but only with Paul, he actually listens to me” You glared at Max, who shrugged 

“I wasn’t your driver. I was just there to annoy you” Max shrugged, and you rolled your eyes. Over the next half an hour, you spoke with Lando, Max, and Oscar, but Lando and Oscar soon had to go get ready for qualifying, so it was just you and Max. Paul was rocking Aurora to sleep as you watched him with a tilt of your head. 

“I keep losing my daughter to my driver” You chuckled, getting up

“Same time tomorrow?” Max asked, and you nodded

“Only if you’re still okay with looking after her for another day” You rested a hand on the back of his seat. Max was doing you a favour, and you didn’t want to push him to do something he wasn’t completely comfortable with. 

“Yeah, of course I’m okay with it. Actually I’m more than okay with it because I get something out of this as well” He smiled looking up at you to the outside world it looked like he was deadly in love but to yourself it just looked like Max was happy.

Sunday was always a busy day. However, this weekend just felt like it was an even busier day. Sat in your office, Aurora sat in her pram asleep as you sat with your headphones in going over some basic work you didn’t hear Max come in. 

He stood next to you, gently pushing a piece of hair out of your face as you sat back in your seat, looking up at him when you felt his presence standing next to you. You smiled up to him, taking your headphones off 

“Morning” He smiled, taking the pen out of your hand and placing it down on the table 

“Hey. Didn’t hear you come in” You hummed, looking up at him after following his actions with the pen 

“That’s because you were so caught up in your work that you didn’t hear anything, including Paul” You frowned, looking at the time. You hadn’t missed any meetings or events that you were due to be at. 

“It’s fine he just wanted to see if you wanted anything to eat” You nodded slightly 

“I had breakfast before coming here” You looked at the time again as Max sat down next to you 

“I’m gonna take Aurora a walk around the paddock then into Mclaren, and I was thinking that you could always come watch the F1 race with me from there?” He offered, and you nodded 

“I quite like the sound of that” You smiled, tilting your head slightly 

“And I was thinking about our date” He started, and you quickly interrupted him 

“Can we do it back home? My flight out of here is tonight, and I can’t get it changed unless I pay for it and after” You paused, glancing over at Rory 

“Let me worry about that. I’m the one that asked you out on the date, so I’ll worry about that” He smiled, gently resting his hand on top of yours. 

“So how’s the little darling today?” He asked, looking over at Aurora’s pram. 

“She’s quite sleepy today, so bonus for you, I guess. However, it's just because she’s starting to teeth, so she might get a little fussy or bite you” You shrugged, and he nodded, getting up just as Paul and his trainer walked in Paul was clearly in a mood about something as you raised your eyebrows. 

Max played with your hair as he stood behind you, and you couldn’t help but smile a little. He used to do that when Liam was your driver a few years ago. It’s like to this day even after limited contact, he still knew when you were hiding your stress 

“He won’t let me have a chocolate bagel” Paul huffed, throwing himself down on the chair Max was previously in as you looked at his trainer who shrugged 

“Too many carbs before a race. Especially when it’s half an hour away. I suggested alternatives, but that wasn’t good enough” The man just shrugged before turning and walking out the room, clearly not wanting to have this fight again

“Paul, we've been over this. You can’t come expecting me to solve your carb problem. I’ve already snuck you enough this weekend as it is. Why don’t you have a smoothie? I know you’re just bored, which is why you’re eating” Paul gave you a look as if you’d just suggested murdering his whole family. 

“You can get me and Max one while you’re there” you suggested, knowing that Paul would do anything for anyone else if offered the opportunity, so Paul got up and left the room again. You looked up at Max the top of your head resting against his stomach 

“I know I asked you on a date and agreed to babysit your child, but have I ever told you how good you look doing your job?” He asked, and you raised a brow thinking about it 

“I believe you may have back when I was a taken woman” You shrugged with a slight smirk 

“You’re trouble, you know that?” He asked as you tilted your head to the side a little, turning around to fully face him 

“Me? Never? That’s all Aurora, and she doesn’t even get it from me” you joked, and he laughed, looking down at you. You couldn’t help but smile up at him. 

“How long does it take for Paul to get some smoothies?” Max asked, and you shrugged

“No idea? In a rush to go somewhere?” You questioned, and he shook his head 

“No. Was just wondering” You nodded, turning back to the data, and he sighed, sitting down 

“You’re not going to stop, are you?” He questioned 

“Nope. I am not. I need to get this finished before the race starts” You sighed as he moved your hands away from the laptop and shut the lid, forcing you to look at him 

“If I was to kiss you right now, would it stop stressing out about the data?” He asked as your eyes widened

“What did you just ask?” You questioned 

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that out loud. I didn’t mean to say that out loud” He panicked as you turned to fully face him, leaning forward in your seat 

You looked into his eyes, trying to see any kind of emotion behind them to make sure what he was saying was actually true. You got up out of your seat, taking his hand and giving him a slight pull-up as you did. Max stood up, standing in front of you 

“Sorry. I really didn’t mean to say that” You leaned up, pressing your lips against his with a slight smile. Max froze for a second before kissing you back. One hand resting on the small of your back as the other stayed in your own. 

“Ew” Paul groaned loudly before there were a couple of thuds and the door slamming. You pulled back, looking over Max’s shoulder to see Paul covering his eyes outside. You couldn’t help but laugh a little 

“I get a life for the moment, and that’s how he reacts” Max laughed as you rested your head on his shoulder as he rested his own on your head. You waved Paul in through the window as Max rubbed your back. You couldn’t help but laugh a little again as Paul walked back in carefully 

“Warning next time, come on. With Rora in here as well?!” He exclaimed. You rolled your eyes as he picked Aurora, shielding her face from who knows what. Only he’ll ever know because it’s not a question that you were planning on asking him anytime soon. 

“I got your normal and for Max, I just guessed” Paul pointed towards the smoothies on the table 

“Thank you. Now, will you please put Rory back down and go warm up. I promise you can cuddle her after the race. Promise” You smiled, and he nodded, placing her down and walking out as you sat back down, turning to look at Max 

“Well if Paul’s away getting ready, I guess I have to let you get ready” He smiled, looking into the pram at Aurora. 

“Same as yesterday, but I’ve left a bottle in her bag. You just need to warm it up a little bit” you explained, and he nodded slightly 

“How do I do that?” He asked, and you chuckled, walking over 

“So take the plastic cover off ,obviously, then just put it in the microwave for like thirty seconds but make sure that it’s lukewarm on the inside of your wrist” Max’s head quickly turned around at that and you rolled your eyes with a laugh 

“It’s just formula, Max. Don’t worry, I just pre-made it for you” Max nodded, picking up her blanket and placing it over the handle of the pram. 

“Okay. We should be okay. If need be, I can text you, yeah?” He asked, and you nodded 

“Of course you can. Oh, and in the diaper bag next to her bottle there’s a little something for you” You smiled, leaning into the pram and pressing a kiss to Aurora’s head. 

“We’ll be good,” Max nodded with some kind of fake courage. You smiled 

“Be good for Maxie hmm” You kissed the babies head before standing up again and taking the few steps over to Max, who smiled down at you as you rested your chin on his chest 

“Don’t worry. Go do your job. We’ll be watching, or I will. The little muffin will probably be sleeping” You grinned, standing up on your tiptoes just a little to kiss him. You grabbed your computer before walking out of your office and out to the garage. 

“Did you get my email?” Oliver asked, and you nodded 

“I did. Congratulations. You’ll do good in F1” You smiled, shaking his hand as a congratulations 

“Thank you. There will be an email coming your way soon, no doubt” You couldn’t help but frown at that as Oliver walked away. Getting everything set up for Paul’s race both in the garage and the pit wall before the pre race mechanical stuff happened while you just sat there waiting.

Max did keep sending you pictures throughout the race that you couldn’t help but smile at when the notification kept coming through. Paul’s race went brilliantly as good as it could possibly get as Paul won. After the podium, you got yourself changed out of the wet Hitech uniform as Paul decided to pour the last of the champagne over your head during the pictures.

 You packed up everything after the debrief and headed over to the Mclaren hospitality again. It currently felt like you were never away from that place. As you walked through the paddock, you couldn’t help but still wonder what Oliver meant by there will be an email for you soon. It really did worry you a bit. 

You smiled at the woman standing outside the hospitality before walking in and spotting Max sitting in the corner with Aurora asleep in his arms all cuddled up. You couldn’t help but smile as you sat down on the couch next to him 

“Oh how I wish I could fall asleep like that” You sighed, and he chuckled 

“She’s been out for about twenty minutes. I gave her her bottle and she just fell asleep” You nodded 

“Sounds about right” You smiled, looking down at her. Her cheek pressed against Max’s chest as her tiny hand held onto one of his fingers. You couldn’t help but take a picture as you watched them. 

“Race went really well” Max grinned as you looked at him 

“It went really well. I’m so proud” you beamed. Eyes flicking down to Aurora 

“Do you want me to take her? She’s okay if you want to put her down in the pram” You frowned, knowing how easy it is to get a dead arm while holding her 

“She’s okay. I’m actually enjoying the cuddles rather than her pulling my beard out” You chuckled, caressing her cheek. 

“You still want to stay to watch the race?” He asked, tilting his head so he could see you better

“Yeah that would be nice” You grinned, getting more comfortable on the couch, knowing that Max wasn’t planning on moving to watch the race by the way he was sitting. Max smiled down at you, looking at your emails 

“Oliver said there’d be an email coming my way soon. Now I can’t stop looking at my emails” You sighed 

“Oliver Oakes?” Max questioned, and you nodded 

“Any idea what it was about?” Max asked, and you shook your head 

“Honestly, I have no idea. As long as I’m not being fired” You shrugged, and he nodded 

“I’d comfort you, but your daughter has stolen both my hands” You laughed 

“There’s worse ways for you to have your hands stolen” you replied 

“Guess that’s true” He smiled 

You sat for the next two hours with Max in the Mclaren hospitality watching the Formula One race. It was an experience you’d never actually forget. Not even just because you were sitting in the F1 paddock but because Max’s reactions to something so tiny were so large. 

As you were walking out the paddock with Aurora in her pram, Max walked next to you while Lando and Oscar trailed behind Max, turned his head to look at you

“I sent you an email during the race with the details for our date and for after it” You frowned 

“After it?” You asked, and he nodded 

“Got you on the flight with Lando and I so you could spend another night here” He explained 

“You didn’t have to do that” you replied 

“I know I didn’t have to, but I saw the perfect place for a date here. Couldn’t let it go to waste” He smiled

Coming Soon

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[wrestlingmgc]

Regina di WAVE Champion Yumi Ohka

[roosterforme]

You Can Handle It | Rooster x Reader

Summary: When your husband dominates on the pitchers mound in his recreational league game, you're a little bit turned on. But when you get him alone in the dugout, you realize that having your big, sweaty pitcher all to yourself might just be your fantasy.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, smut, role-play, sweaty sex and blowjob

Length: 2300 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

This is a Batting Practice one-shot but can be read alone! Check out my masterlist for more! Banner by @mak-32

You were on the edge of your seat on the bleachers at the ballpark near the naval base. Bradley was pitching for the Navy Waves, and they were about to win against the team of Marines that came in undefeated. Until now. 

The sun was setting, and the stadium lights were buzzing to life. It was hot out, but Everett was on your lap anyway, and you were cheering so loudly you thought you might lose your voice. You were both wearing your matching BRADSHAW shirts and hoping for a win. "Come on, Bradley! You can do it two more times!"

Everett cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, "Let's go, Dad!"

And when you turned to look at Molly, she was bouncing Charlie on one knee and staring intently at the game and Bob in the outfield. "Holy hell, the Marines are undefeated," she said, gasping as Bradley threw another strike. 

"Not for long!" you and Everett said in unison. Bradley just needed to get this batter out and then one more. And then the Navy Waves would be the only team in the rec league with a perfect record. 

When the catcher threw the ball back to Bradley, he held it in his glove and removed his hat. He turned to look in your direction as he wiped his forehead with his forearm. You could tell he was exhausted. He looked like he only had a few pitches left in him after nine innings, but he still smiled at all four of you. 

"I know you can do it, Coach!" you shouted, and he nodded before turning back toward home plate. 

"He's gonna do it," Molly said softly. And then you watched your husband strike out the batter. 

You and Everett were on your feet and cheering as another Marine came up to bat. This could be the last one. Bradley just needed to control his pitches. He was so proud of you now that you could tell apart his slider, fastball and curveball, and you watched him wind up and throw his signature slider. You gasped as the bat made solid contact with the ball, sending it up high in the air. 

"Come on, Bob!" Molly shouted as the ball seemed to hang out in the air deep over the outfield before falling down into Bob's glove. And then the game was over. The Navy Waves had won. 

You, Molly and Everett all screamed while you covered Charlie's ears. They would get to go on to play the championship game in two weeks, and you would get to cheer them on in your BRADSHAW and FLOYD shirts. 

Everyone in the Waves uniforms crowded Bradley on the pitcher's mound, and the other team of disgruntled players all walked back to their dugout and started packing their equipment. "Can I go down yet?" Everett asked, looking up at you with pleading eyes. 

"Yeah. Go ahead." You watched your son take off down the steps and walk through the opening in the fence. And as soon as he started running across the infield, Bradley broke free from his teammates and went to pick him up in a big hug that had your heart melting. 

Molly nudged you in the side, and you smiled at her. "Why don't you let us take Ev home for the night. It's Saturday, and he can play with Charlie tomorrow morning."

"Really?" you asked, stroking Charlie's cheek with your thumb while he sucked on his pacifier. 

"Yeah, Ev loves playing with Charlie, and it will give me a little break, too. Besides, I can tell you want to do some nasty shit with my turd-in-law," she said with a grimace.

You bit your lip and said, "Thanks. Ev will love this idea. And so do I."

"Honestly," Molly huffed, "he makes it hard for me to be mean to him sometimes." She nodded toward Bradley where he had Everett sitting on his shoulders on the pitcher's mound. Your son seemed happier with each passing day that Bradley was in your lives. 

The players were starting to disperse now, and Bob was headed your way with his bag as you passed him on the stairs. "Nice catch," you said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. 

He blushed and thanked you, and you watched him wrap Molly and their son up in a hug before you headed down onto the field. Bradley's hat was on backwards now, and while he still looked worn out from the long game, he was smiling as you got closer. 

"Nice job, Coach," you said as you pressed your hand to his sweaty jersey, and he leaned in to kiss you while Everett ran around. With a soft grunt, you felt your husband's hands wrap around your waist. The overhead lights were bright, and his body was arm, and everything felt right. 

"Did it for you. And Ev," he whispered, his mustache brushing your skin. 

"We love you. You're the best," you replied, rubbing yourself against the front of him. When your hand skimmed his white baseball pants, you felt hard plastic.

Bradley chuckled and said, "That's just my athletic cup, Kitten. But if you want me hard for you later, I'm sure that can be arranged."

You glanced over your shoulder and saw most of the rest of the players and coaches had cleared out. "Hey, Ev," you called out to your son. "Do you want to have a sleepover with Aunt Molly and Uncle Bob?"

His eyes lit up. "Can I play with Charlie and help feed him breakfast in the morning?" he asked. 

When you nodded he ran over to hug you and Bradley before racing off to Molly who then shouted down, "Have fun. But don't tell me anything about it later."

"What does that mean?" Bradley asked, wrapping his arms around your waist. He smelled like fresh sweat and his deodorant. The strands of hair that peaked out from his cap were damp, and you absolutely did not want to wait until you got him home. 

You unbuttoned the top of his jersey and pressed your nose against his chest hair. "Do you know when the stadium lights turn off for the night?" you asked before pressing a kiss to his chest. 

"I think they're on a timer," he rasped as you unzipped his pants. And then the most wonderful thing happened. The bright lights started to dim as the bulbs shut off, and you grinned up at him. He still looked a little puzzled as you ran your fingers along the elastic of his jockstrap. "You remember your ballfield fantasy that you told me about?"

His eyes lit up as the lights got dimmer. "Are you serious right now?"

"Yes."

Bradley tipped his head back and groaned. "The sexy bat girl gives me head in the dugout?"

"Only if you want it."

You screeched as Bradley picked you up and hauled you off the field like it was on fire. "Oh, I fucking want it, Kitten," he growled, setting you down next to the bench where it was dark. The last few cars were pulling out of the lot, and you could see their headlights reflecting on the concrete wall at the back of the dugout. But it was quiet and covered and Bradley smelled so good as he caged you in against the wall, pressing his hands to the cool concrete on either side of your head.

"That was a really good game," you said softly, tugging him closer by the open fly of his snug pants. 

"Yeah? You liked that?" he grunted.

"Mmhmm," you moaned. "All the bat girls think you're the best and hottest player on the team. I wish I could wear your name on the back of my shirt." 

Bradley smirked as you braced your hands on his biceps and licked a long stripe up his neck and along his jaw. You could feel his stubble and taste the salt of his drying sweat, and you had to squeeze your thighs together against your arousal. 

"I have an idea," he whispered, pressing his lips to yours briefly. "How about you take that sweet tongue a little further south. You suck my cock just right, and I'll let you wear Bradshaw on your back as much as you want, Baby."

You were tight up against the wall, but you instantly dropped to your knees for him. It was really getting dark now, but you could still clearly see the dirt stains on his pants as you pulled them down a little further. You kissed along his thigh and licked at his coarse hairs peeking out from his jockstrap. He was sweaty. So sweaty. And he tasted delicious. He smelled even better. You moaned so loudly as your fingers wrapped around the elastic and pulled down until you could remove the athletic cup that was being held in place. 

He was already semi hard, and you looked up at him as the plastic cup clattered to the dugout floor next to you. "You're massive."

"You can handle it. I've been watching you handle bats all day. You know what you're doing." Bradley's voice was deep and dark, and you whimpered as you tugged his damp jockstrap further down his thighs. 

"I can handle it." Then you pressed your lips to his tip and coated them up with his sweat and precum. "God, you taste so good." You didn't even have to pretend. You felt slightly crazed as you kitten licked him before sucking on the tip. Salty and musky and sweet and sweaty. When you popped him out of your mouth, you wrapped your hands around his hips and pulled him closer. 

"Jesus," he groaned as you licked his balls clean of that salty taste you were craving now. You sucked on his balls and licked him everywhere. "Oh, you're something else."

"Bradley," you whined between licking long, steady stripes up to his bellybutton. "You taste amazing." Then you wrapped one hand around the base of his cock before you took his length deep, gagging as he hit the back of your throat.

"Holy hell!" he moaned, bucking gently and gripping the back of your neck with one hand. You could feel his hairs tickling your nose, and you inhaled as he withdrew. "Let me fuck your pretty face?"

You just nodded and moaned, and you tried to say yes as he filled you up with his cock over and over again. But tears started stinging your eyes, because you just wanted more. You licked him clean and sucked on him until he was cursing nonstop under his breath. With shallow thrusts, you felt him start pulsing against your tongue. When you gently squeezed his balls, you felt that he was tight and getting close. 

He jerked his hips back and you gasped, missing the heavy weight of his cock on your tongue. "Come here," he whispered, voice harsh as he hauled you to your feet and pressed you back against the wall. Then he devoured your mouth, his hands a little rough at the back of your neck and your waist as he started to yank down your leggings. "Let me cum in your pussy?"

"Yes," you gasped, and he spun you so you were facing the wall, bracing yourself with both hands. You could feel the cool, night air on your most intimate parts as he practically tore your leggings pulling them down. "Bradley!" you shrieked, your voice echoing in the covered dugout as he thrust into you with one hard stroke. 

"Well, would you look at that? Already wearing my name on your back, Baby."

"Bradley!"

He sucked on your neck and let his hand snake around to your clit as he fucked you. "You're just that good, huh? Wearing my name while I fuck you in the dugout. God damn it, Kitten."

You were a whining mess as he pinched and plucked your clit as his hips met your butt over and over again. And you knew he must be close, but you were so wet. He smelled and felt heavenly, and you could still taste him on your tongue as his breathing grew ragged. 

"Please," you begged, and he rubbed you until you felt yourself squeeze around his cock. He made a mess as he came, moaning your name into the cook of your neck as your orgasm left you shaking slightly. You could feel his cum dripping down your thighs as he withdrew. It felt good. And his fingers worked gently on your clit until you backed up against him.

Bradley just gently patted your pussy as he softly said, "The dugout, Baby? With a sexy bat girl? I'll never be the same, I swear it."

He helped you shimmy your leggings back into place, and when you turned to look at him, he was a disheveled mess in the semidarkness. His cock was hanging out from his jockstrap. His athletic cup was on the ground. His hat sat crooked on his head. And he still smelled amazing. "I don't think you're the only one with a baseball fantasy, Coach," you whispered, and he smirked.

"I'll indulge you whenever you want it. You know that. Now let's hit the showers at home and get you changed into your little cheerleader outfit."

"I thought you were tired!" you said as he tucked his length into his jockstrap and bent to retrieve the cup. 

"Not anymore," he rasped, wrapping his arm around your shoulders where you were proudly wearing his last name and yours. He tossed his bag of gear over his other shoulder, and you started heading for the parking lot. "Now give me all the details about your baseball fantasy."

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

Sweat and hot. Fuck. Send help. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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[polo-drone-001]

The Golden Eyes

Elliot had never been much of a soccer fan, but when his friend dragged him to the Golden Army’s championship match, he found himself mesmerized from the first whistle. The team moved like a single organism—every pass, every shot, perfectly synchronized. But it wasn’t their skill alone that captivated him.

It was their eyes.

Every player had glowing, golden eyes that seemed to shimmer brighter under the stadium lights. Each glance from the field felt as though it was directed straight at Elliot, even from across the roaring crowd. His pulse quickened, his breath catching every time one of those radiant gazes met his own. It was impossible to look away, as if their eyes carried a magnetic pull.

By halftime, Elliot could barely sit still. His heartbeat seemed to sync with the players’ movements, each thundering step echoing in his chest. The crowd’s cheers faded into the background as his focus locked entirely on the team. He didn’t know why, but he felt like he needed to be closer—to see those eyes up close.

When the Golden Army scored their final goal, sealing their victory, the crowd erupted. Elliot stood frozen, his eyes fixed on the team huddling together in celebration. The captain, Scott, stood in the center, his golden eyes glowing brighter than the rest. For a fleeting moment, Scott turned his head, locking eyes with Elliot. A smirk tugged at the captain’s lips, and he nodded slightly, as if inviting him.

Elliot’s legs moved on their own as he made his way down toward the field. He didn’t stop to think about how or why he was allowed past security. It was as though invisible strings were guiding him. Before he knew it, he stood outside the team’s locker room, his heart pounding.

The door opened, and Scott stepped out, still in his golden jersey, his broad shoulders and confident stance almost intimidating. Up close, his eyes were impossibly hypnotic, swirling with liquid gold.

“You made it,” Scott said, his voice deep and smooth. He gestured for Elliot to follow. “Come in. There’s something I think you’ll find interesting.”

Elliot stepped inside, the room bathed in a soft golden glow. The players stood in a line, their jerseys glinting under the lights, their golden eyes fixed on him. It was overwhelming, yet exhilarating. He felt like prey caught in the gaze of predators, and he liked it.

“What... what is this?” Elliot managed to ask, his voice trembling.

“This,” Scott said, stepping closer, “is unity. Power. Brotherhood. The golden gaze is our bond, and through it, we share strength and purpose.”

Scott reached for a golden jersey hanging nearby and held it out. “But it’s not just our eyes that bind us. It’s the gear. The jersey. Once you wear it, you’ll understand.”

Elliot’s hands shook as he took the jersey. The fabric was warm to the touch, almost alive. He hesitated, but the players’ eyes bore into him, silently urging him forward.

“Put it on,” Scott commanded, his tone leaving no room for doubt.

Elliot slipped the jersey over his head. The moment it touched his skin, a wave of heat surged through him. His vision blurred for a moment, then sharpened, the golden glow of the room intensifying. He felt his heartbeat sync even more deeply with the team’s rhythm, his mind clearing of all thoughts except one: belonging.

Scott placed a hand on Elliot’s shoulder, his golden eyes piercing into his soul. “Welcome to the Golden Army. From now on, you’re one of us. Your purpose is our purpose. Your strength is our strength.”

Elliot nodded, his lips curling into a smile as the truth of Scott’s words settled into his mind. The players cheered, their voices harmonizing in a chant that resonated deep within his chest.

As Elliot looked around, his own eyes began to glow with the same golden light. He was no longer just an observer. He was part of the team—a brother bound by the golden gaze, ready to serve, to play, to obey.

Ready to embrace golden glory? Contact me @polo-drone-001, or our Caps, @brodygold and @goldenherc9, recruiter @hades-gold19, and take your first step into the Golden Army.

Unity. Strength. Victory awaits.

[rorja]

synopsis. you, suguru and the taste of victory lingering on his lips as intoxicating nectar — or, my humble thoughts about F1 driver ! suguru

a/n. i can’t stop thinking about formula 1 driver!geto and in honor of japan gp (that is only 4h away), here i bring my wild thoughts. i wrote this on a whim after seeing the qualifying results of today, lmao. unfortunately i really love this idea, so i hope i’ll be able to write a full and lengthy os one day — 🐣

F1 driver!geto who is the most successful driver in the whole season. age 27, suguru has already made a name for himself in the whole championship. shocking, entertaining and winning over the hearts of every single fan out there.

F1 driver!geto that started the season in melbourne with many problems with the car, but never once became a less dangerous competitor for the world drivers championship title. he managed to secure the podium at least in seventeen races out of twenty-one, his name becoming a guarantee for his whole team.

F1 driver!geto who is now racing for the very last race of the season, in one of the hardest circuits known to man in singapore. the humidity is high, the tension suffocating, the steering wheel slippery underneath the gloves. suguru has to survive two hours of pure adrenaline, remaining focused on the circuit and getting out of the twenty-three curves that create the circuit of marina bay.

F1 driver!geto who you easily spot amongst the waves of people starting to disappear from the box. the start of the race only measly hours away, and you can feel the pressure going up. higher than any other race you’ve attended until now. this is the finale and both the drivers have to do well to end the season in the top five at least.

F1 driver!geto with whom you’ve crossed paths with many times in the last year. it’s natural after all, you suppose. you’ve been working as haibara yū’s pr manager for two seasons now, marking probably the longest contract you’ve ever had with the formula one team. they have been impressed by your work and you’ve been more than happy to making it through so far.

F1 driver!geto who has always caught your attention from the beginning. a driver that left behind him only sparks in the narrowest of curves, the same ones that would proclaim him a hero all over again. you can see, as the people disperse inside the box, his gaze focused on the asphalt. his tight and firm hold over the steering wheel of the single-seater car.

F1 driver!geto that when locks his eyes with yours, make you feel weak and exposed all of the sudden. making your heart beat like that very first day you have met him.

F1 driver!geto that gets taken away together with haibara on the earned pole position from yesterday’s qualifying session. you watch him sprint from one of the many monitors of the box, his first lap time probably one of the best performances this season. you feel your knees tremble slightly as you bring your hands to your lips in a silent prayer: “please, let him come back safely from the circuit”

F1 driver!geto who is left on your hands for the upcoming press conferences as nanami is being called in the paddock for an urgent matter. you try to memorize the events listed on the paper left by nanami in a matter of three laps. three laps only to end this big and so anxiously awaited finale.

F1 driver!geto who takes home the golden ambitious prize of the season, earning his third consecutive title of world champion. and the scuderia becomes a complete mess once the car hits the finish line underneath the checkered flag, with never ending hugs and pats on each other’s backs for the hard work. haibara is confirmed fourth. you swear you saw tears of joy gathering on the corners of some engineers at the pit-wall.

F1 driver!geto that jumps out the car the moment he comes back on the pit-lane, indulging everyone’s excitement and answering back with more enthusiasm on his part. a japanese flag immediately being placed proudly on his tracksuit by his mother. a baseball hat taking over the place of the helmet in a blink.

F1 driver!geto whose party dies a little bit too soon once you grab his wrist and leads him down the hallway, telling him that he must reach the podium on the other side of the paddock in a few minutes. however, you don’t notice the smile that curls around his lips. a soft gleam in his eyes, dimming even further the heavy presence of adrenaline in his body.

F1 driver!geto that stops in his tracks and brings you closer with a hand on your hips, turning you around with a swift and smooth motion and making you yelp. “not even a kiss for your champion? that’s rude dear” and he’s teasing, you know he’s just teasing you. it’s infuriating. and yet, you fall for it once again. cupping his cheek with a hand and leaning in to kiss him. your emotions all over the place: worry, fear, happiness, excitement… love. your brain short circuiting as soon as your lips meets his, and you are acutely made aware of just how much he needed this tiny moment with you alone.

F1 driver!geto who announces publicly his relationship with you only a week later. a press conference at eight in the morning, only the two drivers of the scuderia sitting in front of the panel, and you can’t help but feeling giddy when you hear suguru confirming the rumors about a rumored relationship. your name sounding so soft coming from his lips. and you see the smile he gives, plastered on the TV screen, when he confirms his name for the next season. his adrenaline contagious. and you can’t wait to see him once again in the place he belongs to: the highest place on the podium after another great and successful season.

[strangersteddierthings]

Gut Instinct: Chapter 2 - Friday

[Art] [Ao3] [Prologue] [Chapter One] [Chapter Two]

Having been on the basketball team all four years of high school, it takes him less than two minutes to find Lucas. He and the team are doing some practice drills before the game.

He cups his hands around his mouth and shouts, “Sinclair!”

Lucas stops instantly, looking for who shouted. Once he catches sight of Steve he breaks out into a grin and jogs over. “Steve, hey! What are you doing here, man?”

“I was informed that no one told you Hellfire did not postpone. Wanted to make sure you knew that.”

Lucas’ face falls instantly, the glee of seeing Steve here gone. “Oh. So, no one’s going to be here for the game?”

It doesn't sit right with Steve that Lucas's first thought is that his friends aren't going to show up. “What about your parents?”

“Well, yeah, they’ll be here. But they have to be. That’s what parents do. I just thought my friends would….” Lucas trails off, but he doesn’t need to finish for Steve to know what he was going to say. Thought they’d have his back. Be here.

Steve pauses before answering, thinking. “So, you want to play in the championship game. Not Hellfire?”

“Well, I want to do both,” Lucas says, “but it’s not like the school’s going to rearrange the entire basketball schedule so I can go play Dungeons and Dragons. I had Dustin and Mike ask for me, ‘cause I don’t think Eddie likes me very much? I think he’d say no immediately if I was the one asking.”

“Hey, that’s not cool,” Steve is a little peeved, but he’s not going to let Lucas see that. Lucas doesn’t need his anger, he needs support. “Uh, why do you think Munson doesn’t like you?”

“I’ve had to miss sessions before, for away games,” Lucas shrugs. “Eddie doesn’t like when people don’t show up. Plus, he’s treated me differently since I joined the team, you know? I can tell he’s colder to me than he is Dustin or Mike. The guy's not exactly good at being subtle.”

“Hey, I’m going to go talk to him, see if I can be more persuasive. I’m not going to be cowed by Eddie Munson the same way Dustin and Mike seem to be,” Steve is aiming for reassuring.

Lucas shrugs with one shoulder, and Steve knows he doesn’t believe him. Knows Lucas thinks nothing will change, and he's not going to have his friends here for moral support. Lucas opens his mouth, then closes, before he nods to himself, like he’s made a decision, and then says, “it’s not even about getting to play the final session. I get that moving it on short notice isn’t, like, easy. I just- they’ve never even been to a game, you know? The guys on the team are great but it’s not the same. Guess it just would have been nice if they’d of picked me.”

“I’ll talk to them,” Steve insists, hating the defeated look on Lucas’ face.

“Sure,” Lucas nods, “I gotta get back to practice. Thanks for trying.”

Steve watches him rejoin Jason Carver. Carver catches Steve’s eye and lifts a hand in a wave. Steve waves back before leaving the gym. He doesn’t know Carver well, but they were on the team together before Steve graduated.

Steve heads back to the green room. He can’t think of a single reason Munson wouldn’t like Lucas, he’s the politest of the kids, and most thoughtful. What’s not to like? Except in the back of Steve’s mind he remembers Billy, and how he singled out Lucas that day he broke a plate over Steve’s head. If Eddie Munson turns out to be a racist bastard, Steve will throw hands.

But perhaps it’s all just a misunderstanding? A lack of communication. Steve knows all about that. He’s had plenty of it before. He still sucks at communication despite Robin's best efforts. He is getting better, and it helps Robin makes it easy for him to open up. Having Robin to talk to has made it easier for him to speak with other people like the adult he’s trying to be. What he wouldn’t give to be able to talk to her right now. About this issue, and the waking nightmare, and about spying more on these kids while she’s at school with them because they are making poor decisions, and also, maybe, about how he finds Eddie Munson attractive (though, maybe that will go away if he gets confirmation Eddie is acting like Billy).

“-can, it’s Steve. Just you wait,” Dustin is saying when Steve steps back into the room.

“Oh no,” Erica sighs, slumping in her chair. She’s the first person to catch sight of Steve, “that’s your Disappointed Parent face.”

“I don’t have a ‘Disappointed Parent’ face,” Steve says before calling out to Munson. “Munson, Lucas thinks you don’t like him.”

“Why does he think that?” Munson stands up from where he was sitting. Steve been in enough fight or flight situations to recognize that there is a tension in Munson's body that seems to be gearing up towards fight more than flight.

“He thinks you don’t like him because he’s missed previous games. Thinks you don’t like him so much that he had to have Dustin and Mike ask about this game because he believes you’d have said no immediately to him,” Steve steps further into the room and he can almost physically see the hackles raise on the older members, like they’re gearing up to jump to Munson’s defense. Steve’s not going to get physical, he doesn’t want to. He just wants to talk to Munson.

“I don’t hate him, but the budding jock made his choice,” Munson scoffs, dismissive.

And that’s it, Steve thinks. Munson doesn’t like jocks and he’s singling out Lucas. He’s a little relieved that it’s not racially charged, but it still leaves Steve angry, so his mouth starts running before his brain. He’s on the defensive. “You’re a fucking hypocrite, Munson. You don’t get to bully people around here. It’s only okay for you to be the bully, huh?”

“Of the two of us, Harrington, I’m not the fucking bully,” Munson moves away from the table, rounds it like he’s going to get into Steve’s face, but Gareth reaches out and grabs his elbow when Munson passes by him, stopping Munson in his tracks.

“You don’t know shit about me,” Steve fires back. “I was a dick in high school, yeah, but I grew the fuck up. You’re singling out a fifteen-year-old because he wants to, what, play sports? Making him choose between the two? That’s fucked up.”

“Again, I didn’t fucking make him choose!”

“Whatever,” Steve says, dismissive because Eddie’s not the real problem here. The real issue is that Lucas wants his best friends to pick him and they didn’t. “Lucas is allowed to like sports and nerd things. And you two,” he pivots to point between Dustin and Mike now, “are being kind of shitty right now. After everything you’ve gone through together, you couldn’t stick by his side for this?”

“Hey, I have to get on a plane tomorrow morning,” Mike defends himself. “If they postponed, then I wouldn’t have gotten to play!”

“So, it’s fine that Lucas can’t play, but terrible if you can’t? That’s a load of shit, Wheeler. Lucas is supposed to be your friend.”

“He is my friend-“

“Then act like it!” Steve didn’t want to play his card, but he’s going to. “Will and El aren't here anymore; are you really okay with losing Lucas, too?”

“That is not fair,” Mike’s voice is oddly even for how angry he looks as he stands up to meet Steve's eye level instead of looking up at him.

“Steve, you’re being defensive, right now,” Dustin says, and Steve hears the message he’s trying to get across. Hears Dustin’s words from earlier ‘you’re an asshole when you’re defensive’. It makes him take a deep breath in because it’s true. He is being an asshole right now, which is exactly what Munson and the other Hellfire members thought he’d be. He’s not going to win them over and get them to see his point like that. Not when he's attacking them. And Mike.

Steve turns back to Munson now, trying to sound calmer as he says, “If you want Lucas to believe you don’t hate him, you’d go to the game, too.”

“Lucas can draw his own conclusion about how I feel. I’m not responsible for his emotions, Harrington,” Munson growls, clearly not a forgiving person.

“You’re right, but you’re also older than him and should take some responsibility for how you act around him,” Steve says, trying to be the bigger person here but he must admit it’s tough. “He thinks you’re being shitty to him, on purpose. He thinks you treat him differently than you do Dustin or Mike. And that’s fucked up. He’s just a kid, he looks up to you, and he's been through enough.”

Munson doesn’t argue back. He stands there, but he does look like he’s thinking about what Steve said, so that’s something.

There’s a shuffling sound and it draws Steve’s attention. Dustin is standing, shoving his things into his backpack. He doesn’t say anything, but he does look at Mike. The two seem to have a silent conversation because after a moment Mike nods, and begins to gather his stuff, too.

Steve’s proud they’re doing the right thing.

“So, you two are out?” Munson’s voice isn’t nearly as angry as it was before. Instead, it's flat. He’d almost call it monotone if not for the fact it did sound like a question.

“Steve’s right,” Dustin says as he swings his backpack over his shoulder, “Lucas does really want to be here. He sounded real upset when he asked us to talk to you about changing the day of the game. I also really want to play, it’s going to suck missing the final session, but it’s going to suck more to bail on a years-long friendship.”

“Yeah. Lucas has never bailed on us,” Mike adds, even though he sounds upset for agreeing.

Erica lets out a put-upon sigh, “he has bailed on me, but never when it mattered, I guess. I expect that you’re buying the tickets, Steve?”

“Unbelievable!” Munson throws his hands in the air, which pulls Steve’s attention to him. He catches the look on his face; Eddie Munson looks… hurt?

Steve’s stomach turns a little and he scrambles to figure out how to settle it. “A compromise?” Steve offers. “Mike, when are you back?”

“Uhh, the plane is supposed to land Thursday afternoon; I’ll be back in town that night sometime.”

“Great,” Steve looks to Munson. “Can you guys play next Friday, or even Thursday night if Mike isn’t jet-lagged too much?”

“School’s locked up next week,” Dustin says.

“What about your basement, Mike?”

“Won’t fit all of us,” Mike says. “It was barely enough room when it was just Dustin, Lucas, Will, and I. The table's not big enough.”

“Plus, it stinks like boy,” Erica wrinkles her nose, “unwashed, gross boy.”

“It’s not that bad!”

“Yes, it is,” Steve says, even though he hasn’t been in the Wheelers’ basement since he and Nancy were together.

“Steve, I have a compromise,” Erica says. “Regarding a promise you made to me. For life.”

Erica now has Steve’s full attention. “Yes, Erica?”

“We play at your house next Friday. You will provide snacks and pizza,” she says it like it’s decided, before pointing her finger at Steve, then dragging her hand through the air to point at everyone, “and all you nerds will stop bickering like old people. You’ll also have to buy our tickets because I didn’t bring any money. In return, I will shorten your life debt to the day after I graduate from high school.”

“Done! Deal!” Steve accepts instantly, because a day of snacks and pizza will be so much cheaper than a lifetime supply of ice cream. He knows Erica would have held him to that for, quite literally, his entire life. “I’ll be buying all the basketball tickets, and just tell me what pizza you want. That work for everyone?”

“Your parents will be okay with that?” Dustin asks.

Right. He forgets about the major secrets he keeps from the kids sometimes. “Oh, they’ll be gone by Friday for sure so no issue. So, will that work for everyone?”

The older members of Hellfire exchange glances, and, one by one, they all say yes. Even Munson.

Erica stalks up to Steve, stopping just in front of him, hand out, palm up. With a sigh, Steve pulls his wallet out of his back pocket and drops it into Erica’s hand. “I’ll get back to you on the pizza I want. I’ll go buy tickets. Are you all coming?”

The other three members look surprised, but it's Gareth that speaks, “Uh, Harrington’s not gonna buy-“

“I said are. You. Coming?” Erica repeats, hands on her hips.

“Yes,” Gareth says, then looks surprised he agreed. Erica has that effect on people.

Erica gives one nod and heads out the door. Slowly the rest pick up their things and follow. Steve goes to follow, too, but the rolling in his stomach returns. He’s not done here.

He waits until everyone has left before turning to Munson. “I'm sorry. I’m sorry for coming in here and like, immediately attacking you. That wasn’t cool of me.”

Munson looks him over before scoffing. “It’s whatever, man.”

“It’s really not,” Steve says. “I know that, like, a lot of work goes into this game and I’m sorry. So, like, if you want anything extra, or need something for the game next week, I’ll get it. I’ll help however I can.”

Munson pauses in the middle of his clean up, to look up at Steve and study him for a while. Steve’s just starting to get antsy when Munson speaks again, “I don’t know if I hate you or not.”

There's absolutely no reason Steve should be hurt by that statement, but he is. He can't show that to Munson though, so he says, “That’s fair.”

“I’ve got to know, Harrington. How’d this group of kids get to be so important to you?” Munson goes back to gathering up the stuff on the table. "Why is their continued friendship important to you?"

Steve moves to help, and Munson doesn’t shoo him away. “I used to babysit them. Try and keep them out of trouble, which is impossible because they’re too fucking curious and smart. That’s a godawful combination, you know?”

Munson doesn’t laugh but he does quirk one corner of his mouth upwards. “My uncle would agree with you.”

“Yeah, well, they don’t need a babysitter anymore but-“ Steve cuts himself off because he’s not sure what to say. But they’re bonded by shared trauma and grief? That they have to stick together because the Byers left, and Hopper’s dead, and they can’t lose anyone else because it might be too much loss, and he’ll just fall apart? “But they’re family now. They can be a bunch of shitheads, but I love them. And they hate it when I say this, but they should get to be kids as long as they can.”

A long silence follows that as Steve follows Munson's lead of picking stuff up and stacking it all at the end of the table by the throne.

“Help me load what I’ll need for the session next week into my van and I’ll think about forgiving you for ruining this one,” Munson says once everything is gathered.

Steve agrees (probably too eagerly and quickly if the look Munson shoots him is anything to go by) and between the two of them they make quick work of it. Before they take the last armfuls out, Steve steals a pencil and a piece of paper, scribbling his number and a question on it before shoving the paper in his pocket and the pencil back in the case. Then he scoops up what he can and follows Munson to his van.

They don’t talk on the walk from the van to the gym, which is fine by Steve because he doesn’t know what he’d say anyway. He's just glad Munson didn't climb in the van and leave, and is, actually going to come to the game. They get to the gym and find Dustin sitting on the sidewalk waiting for them with their tickets. As soon as they’re in the gym Steve’s eyes go for the marching band, looking for Robin. He finds her quickly and they have a completely silent conversation.

‘Why are you entering the gym with the Hellfire club?’

‘Long story, I’ll explain it later.’

‘You better, dingus.’

Then Dustin is pushing him down onto a bench next to Mike and taking the seat beside him, patting the open seat next to him for Munson to sit. Munson sits rather than climbing the bleachers to join the rest of Hellfire and Erica in the top row, and Steve finds he’s not surprised Munson obeyed. Dustin is very likable for being an annoying know-it-all.

Steve scans the gym, looking for anyone else he might know and- “Oh, shit.” He ducks backwards and down, trying to hide behind Dustin.

“What, what is it?” Dustin asks, scanning the crowd for what Steve saw.

“Brenda.”

“What?”

“Brenda!” Steve hisses, “I, uh, I stood her up. To come to your game instead.”

Sudden movement beside Dustin startles Steve but it takes only a second to realize it’s just Munson, swiveling to look at Steve, eyes big and eyebrows hidden in his hairline. “You ditched a date to play DnD?”

Steve and Munson just look at each other for a moment before Steve feels his face get hot with embarrassment. “Like I said. Dustin asked.”

Munson shakes his head like he can’t believe him and turns back to the court.

When Steve drags his attention back to the court, Tammy Thompson is making her way to the center to sing the anthem and Steve has to find Robin’s eyes again, just to make an ‘I Told You So’ face when Tammy starts singing. She sticks her tongue out at him and the girl next to her must say something because it pulls her attention from Steve.

Now that the teams have gathered and are standing for this wonderful rendition of the anthem, Steve looks for Lucas and finds him quickly.

Lucas finds them a few moments later, and his face lights up when he sees the whole club sitting there. The last bit of nausea that Steve hadn't even been aware of fades away.

Everyone stays for the whole game, which surprises Steve. He expected the older members to dip after the cheer routine. It means they all get to see Lucas make the winning shot. The whole club stands with Steve to scream and cheer, and once Lucas is done being swarmed by his teammates, he gets swarmed by the club members.

Then they’re splitting up; Lucas is going to celebrate with his teammates, so Steve tells him to make smart choices. Before everyone vanishes into the night, though, Steve chases Munson down, halfway to his van in the back of the parking lot.

“Hey, Munson, wait!”

Munson does wait, turning as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Harrington. Not done turning my night upside down?”

Steve almost flinches at the word choice. “Nah, man. Just wanted to give you my number.”

“Your number?” Munson says with just a hint of laughter in his voice and Steve's heart skips over itself. What the hell was that?

“Yeah. So that when it’s closer to the Dungeons game you can call, let me know the time that works for you all. Maybe even drop off some of that stuff I helped you load before the game? Whatever makes it easier for you.”

“Oh. Yeah. Sure. I don’t have a pen on me-“

“No issue. Already wrote it down,” Steve says, pulling the paper from his pocket, offering it to Munson.

He reaches out slowly and takes it, balling his fist around it without looking at it, eyes locked onto Steve's face. The nearest light source is behind Steve, so he's not sure what Eddie's looking for, but it leaves Munson's face illuminated enough for him to look back.

Steve's never had a problem thinking Munson was objectively attractive. He's always gotten hot under the collar for people who push back against him and challenge him, which Munson did a lot of when they were in school together. Steve deserved all the pushback he got, he's honest enough to admit to himself. That being said, Steve's never seen Munson with his guard down. Even at Hellfire tonight his hackles were raised the whole time. But now, under the barely-there glow from the lamp post behind Steve, he looks... amused? The angry furrow that usually resides on his brow every second he's in Steve's company is gone, smoothed out. There's the barest hint of a smile at the corner of his lips.

Then, as abruptly as the stare-down started, it ends, Munson turning on his heel and heading off into the night without another word.

“Okay then. Have a good night! See you next week!” Steve shouts at his retreating form and heads back to the gym, where Dustin is probably waiting for a ride even though he’s supposed to be hitching one with Nancy and Mike, and Robin will no doubt be expecting that explanation he wordlessly promised her. Steve wishes Munson had opened the note. He wants to know what kind of face he’ll make when he sees that, below Steve’s number, he wrote Truce?