#and then a small nap and then up again for wec

[tyresdeg]

logan sargeant | saturday | china 2024

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗦 𝗥𝗢𝗖𝗞 - part ten max verstappen x fem! driver! reader ( fluff ) series summary . . . when the lives of an f1 and WEC prodigies collide, they find out they find out that they’re not that different and carve out a place for themselves in each other's hearts. the commentators from Sky Sports call this Lovers Rock.

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content warnings . . . ( very short smut near the ending/at the beginning of the final scene, very long chapter, mix between smau and prose writting )

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

groupchat: RANDOM GROUPCHAT

direct messeges: MAX + YN groupchat: SPINARDS VROOM VROOM

You’d only been staying with Max for a few days after the fire, but it already felt like you’d lived there forever. Max wasn’t sure if it was because you’d brought your dogs, your vinyl player, and a small mountain of suitcases, or because you’d somehow filled his apartment with this contagious energy that made it feel brighter, cozier. Whatever it was, he found himself looking forward to coming home more than usual—especially today.

Max pushed the door open, carrying a bag with the vinyl he’d impulsively picked up for you earlier. He’d noticed the way you meticulously handled your records, the soft hum you gave when you browsed through his collection to find the perfect track to play while the dogs sprawled out on the rug.

You turned your head as he walked in, Marshmallow hopping up from where Sauce was napping to greet him. “Hey,” you called out, your voice light and warm, the sound pulling an easy smile from him.

“Hi,” he replied, setting the bag on the counter before leaning down to ruffle Marshmallow’s ears. “Got something for you.”

Your eyes lit up with curiosity as you padded over. He pulled out the vinyl—a Beatles song you’d mentioned loving once in passing—and handed it to you, watching as your face shifted into surprise, then pure joy.

“No way,” you breathed, clutching the record, ‘And I Love Her,’ to your chest. “You remembered?”

Max shrugged, trying to downplay the warmth spreading in his chest. “You’ve been playing my stuff non-stop, and I don’t even have a lot of vinyl. Figured it was time to add something you’d actually choose.”

You laughed, setting it on the player before turning to him with that smile that made his stomach flip. “Thank you, Maxie.”

He cleared his throat, suddenly feeling too warm. “Alright,” he said, stepping forward and pushing the coffee table aside, making space in the center of the room. “Now you’ve got to teach me.”

You tilted your head, curious. “Teach you what?”

“How to dance,” he said, his tone confident despite the faint flush creeping up his neck.

You blinked, a small laugh escaping. “Max Verstappen wants to learn how to dance?”

“Don’t make it a big deal,” he muttered, putting his hands on his hips and giving you a disapproving look. “I’m serious. Show me.”

Grinning, you grabbed his hand, pulling him into the empty space. The music started, soft and lilting, filling the room as you guided him. “Okay, just follow me. Step here, then here—make it like a box.”

Max concentrated, his hands awkwardly settling on your waist as you moved, his feet shuffling to match yours. You giggled softly when he tripped over his own step, looking up at him with mock seriousness. “You’re supposed to be good under pressure.”

“This isn’t pressure,” he grumbled. “This is humiliation.”

“You’re the one who asked me to teach you.” You stopped, resting your hands on his shoulders. “You’re doing fine. You’ve got rhythm—it’s just hiding under all that ego.”

He gave you a deadpan look, but the way your laugh bubbled up made him relax. You guided him again, slower this time, and he let himself follow the rhythm, his eyes focused on yours. The moment stretched, the music filling the quiet, and when your head rested on his chest, he felt a strange, overwhelming peace and… yellow, bright yellow, nothing that he’s ever felt before.

After a while, you glanced up at him, admiring how he had his eyes closed as you swayed, trying to ignore the rest of the world and concentrate on you. “You know,” you murmured, “I always go to your races… you should come to one of mine.”

Max looked down at you, gently brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Belgium?”

You nodded. “You’d love it. The atmosphere’s insane, and I could use the support.”

He smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead, then cheek. “Alright. I’ll come.” Max gave in, pressing a final kiss on your lips.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You slipped your arms into the sleeves of your race suit, the familiar snugness grounding you as you adjusted the collar. Across the room, Max leaned against the doorframe, his casual posture doing nothing to hide the way his eyes followed your every move. Lando was perched on the small couch, phone in hand, shooting you an occasional grumpy look as if the mere presence of Max was interrupting his peace.

You see, after asking Lando to join you and Max and after Lando’s initial decline, you had to blackmail the McLaren driver to join you. You needed a third wheel to try and make people think this was more of your friends supporting you, not your single friend who’s rumored to be your lover.

“Kiss for good luck?” you asked Max, who was indeed your lover. Your voice was soft and a little hesitant, shy, your head tilting as you glanced at Max. A nervous smile tugged at your lips, and you tried to ignore the way your heart thudded in your chest.

Max’s lips curled into a smirk as he pushed off the doorframe, stepping closer. “How could I say no?”

As he leaned in, Lando groaned loudly from the couch, throwing his head back for dramatic effect. “Oh, for god’s sake, get a room!”

You turned to Lando with a raised eyebrow, heat rushing to your cheeks as Max’s hand found your arm, holding you close to his chest. “This is the room, Lan. My room.”

Max chuckled softly at your retort, his hand slipping up to cradle your cheek. He pressed a gentle kiss there, his lips warm and lingering before pulling back slightly. Then, as if he couldn’t resist, he leaned in again, brushing his lips softly against yours, the touch delicate yet enough to make your breath hitch.

“For good measure,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with affection, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled.

You bit your lip, your face flushed, but you couldn’t help the smile that mirrored his. “See you at Parc Ferme?” you whispered, barely audible.

“Yeah. See you there, schat,” Max murmured, his tone as warm as his gaze.

Just as the moment settled between you, the door swung open, and Carlos strolled in, completely oblivious to what he’d interrupted. “Ready to go?” he asked, his tone cheerful as his eyes flicked between you and Max who had shoved you away like you were the plague quickly upon the Spaniard’s entrance.

Your heart skipped a beat, but you managed a quick recovery, stepping toward him with a smile. Carlos had no idea you were staying with Max, blissfully under the impression you were crashing with Lando—a small mercy you’d taken advantage of to avoid his overly curious nature.

“Yep,” you said, wrapping your arms around your brother in a quick hug. Carlos patted your back with a broad grin, but the sound of Lando’s poorly contained chuckle made you tense slightly.

Carlos pulled back, giving Lando a side-eye. “What’s so funny?”

Lando just shrugged, his smirk remorseless. “Nothing. Just... happy to be here.”

You shot Lando a warning look, but he only grinned wider, his eyes flicking briefly to Max before returning to his phone. As Carlos turned to lead the way out, you glanced back at Max, who gave you a small nod of reassurance—not that you needed it, but now that he offered one, you took it—his gaze lingering for just a moment longer before you followed Carlos into the hallway.

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Your voice rang through the radio, high-pitched with joy and laughter as you passed the checkered flag. “Someone kiss me!” you squealed over the radio excitedly, your happiness bubbling over into giggles and squeals as you eased your car over the finish line. The euphoria was electric, coursing through you like a live wire, each cheer from the grandstands fueling the grin on your face.

After completing the cooldown lap, you pulled back to the finish line, only to see Antonio and Alessandro, your teammates, waving for you to slow down so they could join you for another victory lap. You didn’t hesitate, climbing out of the cockpit and onto the top of the car, Antonio already up there with the Ferrari flag billowing in the breeze. The two of you waved it triumphantly as the other Ferrari car trailed close behind, your team creating a moment of celebration for the fans who had been cheering relentlessly.

The grandstands erupted as you waved to the sea of red in the crowd, the Ferrari fans screaming your name and chanting as if the win was their own, which it was. You could feel the pride and love radiating from every corner of the circuit, and for a moment, you let yourself bask in it fully.

When you finally rolled into Parc Ferme, it was pure chaos. The Ferrari team enveloped you in their arms before you could jump in, pulling you into a whirlwind of hugs, pats on the back, and shouts of praise in Italian. It felt grounding, their pride wrapping around you like a warm blanket. You hugged each of them tightly, feeling the weight of the victory settle in your chest.

And then you spotted him. Max stood off to the side, his hands crossed on the railing, watching with a small, pleased smile that he tried to hide. You didn’t think twice, jogging toward him and throwing your arms around him. He caught you easily, his hands steadying you as you clung to him, the weight of the day spilling over into your embrace.

“Congratulations,” he murmured, his voice soft enough that only you could hear. His hand gave your bicep a light squeeze, grounding you further in his quiet support. “I’d kiss you if there weren’t so many voyeurs,” he added, scrunching his nose in mock distaste as he gestured toward the bustling crowd around you. “I will, but after all of this,” he promised softly.

You laughed, light and breathless at his expression, leaning back to catch your breath before you turned to Lando. “You’re next!” you teased, lunging at him with the same energy.

Lando groaned dramatically as you messed up his perfectly styled hair, swatting at your hands. “Why do you always do this?” he groaned, a fake pout on his lips as he hugged you and squeezed you back, though the laughter in his eyes betrayed his true feelings.

The celebration was cut short, however, by the unmistakable presence of Carlos, who had been observing the entire exchange from a few steps away. His brows furrowed slightly as he glanced between you and Max, his hug tighter than usual when he pulled you in. “Incredible race,” he praised, his voice warm but his eyes narrowing slightly at Max over your shoulder.

You couldn’t see it, but Lando did, standing between Carlos and Max with a laugh that he barely managed to suppress. He bit his lip, trying to contain the laughter bubbling up, but a soft snicker escaped anyway. Carlos turned his head sharply, giving Lando a questioning look as you stepped back from the hug, oblivious to the silent standoff.

“Why are you laughing?” Carlos asked, suspicion creeping into his tone.

“Nothing,” Lando replied, feigning innocence as he looked between the Red Bull driver and the Ferrari one. “Just... enjoying the moment.”

You gave Lando a playful shove, still too caught up in the whirlwind of victory to notice the tension. “Come on, guys, it’s a good day. Let’s keep it happy.”

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After two hours of celebrating and drinking at a club, Max shouted the words in your ears, “Let’s go home,” kissing your neck up to the spot at the back of your ear that had your brain almost shutting down.

“Back to Monaco?” you asked, dazed from the alcohol and his ministrations.

“I have a house in Belgium. Forget the hotel,” he said in your ear, holding your waist as the two of you swayed through the crowd.

You tilted your head as you looked into Max’s blue eyes, lost in thought. The alcohol was suddenly giving you the ability to think, and the only thing you could think about was how beautiful this man was.

The Uber drive to Max’s home in Belgium was a blur of laughter and drunken chatter, the adrenaline of your race win still pulsing in your veins. Max had been more animated than usual, a mix of pride and a little too much celebratory champagne loosening his reserved demeanor. You couldn’t stop teasing him about how loud he’d been cheering for you, his voice cutting through the roar of the crowd, along with the excited Lando, of course.

“You were basically a one-man fan club out there,” you teased as the car pulled up to his estate.

Max smirked, stepping out and opening the door for you. “What can I say? I’m your biggest supporter.”

The house was quiet when you entered, holding Max’s hand as he pulled you along. The contrast was striking compared to the noise of the club. Max flicked on a few lights, guiding you through the minimalist space. His fingers brushed yours as he led you from room to room, drunkenly introducing you to his furniture, the warmth in his touch a stark contrast to the cool, sleek interior.

“And this,” he said, opening a set of glass doors, “is the pool.”

You stepped out onto the deck, the soft glow of underwater lights illuminating the crystal-clear water. “You didn’t mention this earlier,” you said, turning to him with a grin.

“You didn’t ask,” he replied, leaning against the doorway.

Without a second thought, you began unbuttoning your shirt, letting it fall to the ground before stepping out of your jeans. Max’s breath hitched as you walked to the edge of the pool, tossing your underwear off as well because why not, before slipping in with a soft laugh.

The cool water enveloped you, your laughter echoing in the stillness as you turned to him. “Are you just going to stand there?” you asked, reaching your hands for him.

Max chuckled, shaking his head as he pulled off his shirt. Moments later, he was in the water too, swimming toward you with ease. When he reached you, his arms slid under your thighs, lifting you slightly.

“Hi, schatje,” he murmured, his voice soft and full of affection.

“Hi,” you replied, your arms wrapping around his neck as you leaned in closer, wrapping your legs around his waist.

Max’s forehead rested against yours as his hands held you steady, his gaze locking with yours. “You know,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible over the gentle ripples of the water, “I love being your boyfriend.”

Your breath hitched, the sincerity in his tone making your heart swell. “I love you being my boyfriend,” you whispered, a soft smile playing on your lips.

He didn’t say anything more, choosing instead to pull you closer, his lips finding yours in a kiss that felt like it carried everything he couldn’t put into words.

Sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow over the rumpled sheets. You stirred first, nestled against Max’s chest, your legs tangled together under the blankets as you traced shapes on his soft and beautiful stomach. How could a tummy be so beautiful, you wondered.

You’d both taken a bath together to wash away the pool water. These were the most vivid memories you had from last night: Max kneeling in front of you as he brought the feeling of euphoria to your body that you couldn’t quite explain. His tongue lapping and sucking at your most intimate parts, eyes looking up at you as if he was ready to throw away his life for whatever you demanded.

Max, feeling like the devotee he was with his tongue between your legs, with his hands on his lap, felt so grateful just to be there, no matter how much his knees hurt from the floor or how much you tugged on his hair. He was happy to be the one pulling such noises from you, even if they were just squeaks of confusion and tiny, tiny whines. He was whining with you too, almost crying from how good you tasted and how much he needed you to touch him that it hurt.

“Morning,” Max murmured, his voice husky with sleep as his fingers brushed gently against your back.

“Morning,” you replied, your lips curling into a smile as you nuzzled closer, your fingers tracing his chest softly.

The peaceful moment was short-lived as both your phones buzzed incessantly on the nightstand. Whining, you reached for yours, squinting at the screen.

“Oh my god,” you muttered, scrolling through the flood of notifications. “We made it onto Twitter.”

Max leaned over your shoulder, pulling you back to his chest. A sleepy grin spread across his face as he saw the pictures of you two from the club—dancing, laughing, kissing. Kissing wasn’t even the right word, and eating each other was not even close to describing what your mouths were doing. “We look good,” he said, smirking.

“I bet Lando is enjoying this,” you said, already opening your contacts to call him.

The line rang twice before Lando’s voice answered, hushed and frantic. “What do you want?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What do you mean, what do I want? I’m calling to tell you where we are! Aren’t you worried about my safety? What if I was kidnapped?” You gasped in mock offense, too tired to be actually offended.

“Shh!” Lando hissed. “Carlos is here. And he’s doing all the worrying for me.”

At that moment, you heard Carlos’s voice in the background, loud and unmistakably angry. “What is this about Max and Yn? Is Yn on the phone?”

Max raised an eyebrow at you as you put the call on speaker. Carlos’s rapid-fire Spanish filled the room, his tone accusatory and full of disbelief.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you translated the angry Spanish words to Max calmly, “He’s saying you’re an idiot, that you’re reckless, and—oh, this one’s good—that you’re a terrible influence on me.”

Max chuckled, leaning back against the pillows. “Tell him he’s right about the last part.”

You shot him a mock glare but couldn’t suppress your laugh. “Carlos,” you said into the phone, your tone even, “we’re fine. Just celebrating.”

“Celebrating irresponsibly!” Carlos barked back, his voice so loud Lando groaned audibly, seemingly nursing a hangover.

Max took the phone from you, still grinning. “Carlos, it’s fine. Yn won Belgium. You should be happy for her.”

Carlos’s reply was too rapid to catch, but you could tell from the tone that he wasn’t letting it go anytime soon.

“You know,” you said, taking the phone back and ending the call with a cheeky smile, “we should probably go back to sleep before Lando calls us again.”

Max chuckled, pulling you back into his arms. “Agreed,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Let’s deal with the aftermath later.”

[yuvon-writes-letters]

To all,

I was, actually going to point that out.

The entity seems to be ab###################

Hold on.

##################

Yeah, this isn’t working.

Hold on, I have an idea. I just hope you’re smart enough to catch on.

Xli irxmxc wiiqw xs fi efpi xs fpsgo syx erc qirxmsrw sj mx. Mj xlmw gmtliv xibx asvow, xlir ai qmklx fi efpi xs lezi e asvo-evsyrh.

Yes, it didn’t blur out!

On other notes, Rai is, very very slowly getting used to the break. I think it has something to do with the people at the theater he works at. He mentioned that he got a job as a stage technician in a popular theater right? Well, I think the easy work-load is slowly relaxing him.

I caught him taking a nap on the couch an hour ago, which is revolutionary. He always hated taking naps, saying that it feels like he’s wasting life away whenever he accidentally takes one.

More thoughts, I might gain the ire of both entities if I say this, but it’s worth it.

For an entity hell-bent on “preserving innocence” and “stopping the narrative of the new-born”, Flower seems to be rather passive ever since their initial attack. I’m assuming through their current actions and the wording of their letters, that their simply waiting it out until the end of the game, or until your entity does something. What their waiting for, is the real question.

My best guess is some sort of big development, but it’s also possible that their biding their time to attack once again. I’ll leave those thoughts to your interpretation.

Flower also seems to, well, feel might be to big of a word, “recognize” empathy. I’m using empathy very loosely, since I’m not even sure if their able to feel or not. Flower mentioned regret to the Entity, scolding it for not feeling bad for the actions they committed. This maybe suggests that Flower is able to feel empathy, if it weren’t for the fact that they threatened to kill everyone for innocence.

Most likely, killing us is their way of truly protecting us. Innocence exists after death, they say.

Whatever the case, even if their a neutral party, Flower is clearly the lesser of two evils, what you want to do with this theory is up to you.

I appreciate the get-wells, do not worry, I have been through worse in drills, scrapped knuckles are the least of my worries.

Fare well.

Skie

[After you finish reading the letter, two screenshots fall out. They seem to be of the phone conversation between the entity and Rai. Strangely, the first few texts from Rai’s number are blurred out the same way the sentence was, and they only cease when Rai start’s texting]

Skie,

I wonder if entities are somehow incapable of deciphering our messages, or if our entities just happen to be really bad at it.

(Oddly enough, under each ciphered word there's a small line, as if Yuvon underlined each word, but some of the letters are bunched together to fit better on the lines.) M lezi e xlisvc, ex piewx tivxemrmrk xs qc irxmxc, fyx M VIEPPC hsr'x aerx xs izir vmwo wecmrk mx mr gmtlivw. M lezir'x izir jsyrh e aec xs wejipc xipp Neoi cix. M'pp xvc xs jmkyvi syx ersxliv aec xs wec mx pexiv.

I'm glad Rai seems to be doing well. You may want to double-check his mood occasionally.

It seems like Flower decided to show that they are a serious potential threat before making a demand, that demand being that the entity not do any more "games." Which is... worrying. Does that mean there are other Yuvons who went through the same thing I am? Does that mean that, if the entity doesn't listen, there WILL be more Yuvons?

I also suspect that Flower might act if the entity acts out of line again and does something nasty, but I don't know how Flower defines "amnesty."

If Flower can feel empathy (and certainly Goldie seems to, so it's not impossible) it would be a very twisted and warped sense of empathy. It doesn't seem like Flower WANTS to hurt everyone reading, but she somehow decided that attacking you was the best way of convincing the entity? And she sort of said "well I don't really want them dead but what does it matter anyways."

...Maybe it is her way of protecting us. It's a possibility.

She is the lesser of two evils for now, yes.

Hey, the entity is going modern! Now it can harass anyone privately. Yaaay.

Jake's out like a light, so I'll end this one here. See ya.

—Yuvon

(The letter tucks itself into the paper clip with the others.)

(A transcription of the text conversation will be up shortly.)