#barely made it under the max word count for this one | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

xo100 · 2 months ago

Text

Club - LN4

*:･ﾟ Summary: You bump into Lando Norris at a club, sparking a flirty connection. After a fun night, you exchange numbers.

*:･ﾟ Word count: 1324

୨ৎ

The club was buzzing with music, flashing lights, and laughter as Lando Norris and his best friend, Max Fewtrell, strolled inside, soaking up the electric atmosphere of Monaco's nightlife. They’d become regulars at the hottest clubs, both enjoying the release and freedom that came with an adrenaline-filled F1 season.

Tonight, though, felt a little different. Lando wasn’t quite sure why yet, but he could feel it. Maybe it was the energy in the air, maybe it was the fact that the Monaco Grand Prix was just around the corner, or maybe it was something—or someone—he hadn’t met yet.

Max had already gravitated towards the bar, ordering shots for them both. Lando, more on the relaxed side that night, looked around the dance floor. Bodies were moving to the beat, swaying under the neon lights, but he wasn’t ready to join in just yet. “ You good, mate?” Max grinned as he handed Lando a drink, already buzzing from the energy and a few earlier rounds.

“Yeah, just checking things out,” Lando replied, scanning the dance floor.

On the other side of the club, you and your best friend were lost in the moment, dancing together to the beat of the music, laughing and cheering each other on. It was one of those nights where everything felt carefree, where nothing mattered except the moment. The crowd was thick, and with the music pulsing through your veins, you didn’t notice the space around you shrinking.

That is, until you accidentally bumped into someone.

“Oh my god, I'm so sorry!” you exclaimed, looking up at the guy whose back you had just collided with.

Lando turned around, slightly startled, but when his eyes met yours, his expression softened into an easy smile. “No worries at all,” he replied, his voice barely audible over the booming music. His accent was unmistakable—British, smooth—and somehow comforting. For a split second, you were caught off guard. You didn’t realize who he was at first, just that he had the kind of grin that made you feel like everything was instantly better.

Max, who had witnessed the entire interaction, nudged Lando with a teasing look. “Looks like someone��s making new friends.” You laughed nervously, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “I swear, I didn’t mean to hit you.”

Lando chuckled. “Well, if it was on purpose, that’s one way to get my attention.” His eyes sparkled under the club lights, and you felt your cheeks heat up. “Guess it worked, then,” you said, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

“Definitely.” Lando stepped a little closer, the music thumping in the background as the two of you stood there, your friends momentarily forgotten. “You come here often?”

You shrugged, still smiling. “Not really. Just here for a fun night with my friend.” Lando glanced toward your best friend, who was still dancing, then back at you. “Seems like you’re having a good time.”

“Yeah, and I think I just made it better by bumping into you.”

Max, who had been listening in, couldn’t help but laugh loudly, slapping Lando on the back. “Mate, she’s good! You’re gonna have to keep up.” Lando shot him a look, but there was no hiding his grin. He was intrigued by you, by the ease of the conversation, and how natural it felt to be standing there talking like you’d known each other forever. Usually, nights out were fun, but they blurred together. But tonight? You had somehow made it stand out.

“Do you wanna dance?” Lando asked, raising an eyebrow.

You felt a spark of excitement flicker in your chest, but you played it cool. “Are you sure you can keep up with me?”

His competitive streak kicked in, and Lando smirked. “Oh, I think I can handle it.”

With a playful nudge, you both moved onto the dance floor, joining the crowd as the DJ switched the track to something a little faster, a little more intense. You could feel Lando’s presence next to you, the warmth of his body as the two of you moved in sync to the music. His eyes never left yours, and every time you looked over, he had that same cheeky grin plastered on his face. He wasn’t the best dancer—not by a long shot—but the fact that he didn’t care made it even more fun. He let loose, spinning you around with a laugh, not caring if he got the steps wrong or if he bumped into someone else. You couldn’t help but laugh along with him, the two of you lost in the moment.

Max, on the sidelines, gave a thumbs-up to Lando before disappearing back toward the bar to give his friend some space.

As the night went on, you and Lando kept dancing, joking, and sharing easy conversation in between songs. At one point, you found yourself standing off to the side, catching your breath while the music pumped around you. “I have to ask,” you said, tilting your head as you looked up at him. “Do you always meet girls by having them bump into you?”

Lando laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, it’s a first. But I think I’m gonna make it a thing now.”

“You should,” you teased. “Works like a charm.”

The conversation flowed easily, and Lando felt a warmth spreading through him that had nothing to do with the alcohol or the heat of the club. There was something about you—something he couldn’t quite put into words. Maybe it was your sense of humor, or the way you didn’t seem fazed by who he was, treating him like anyone else. Whatever it was, he liked it.

“I’m Lando, by the way,” he said after a beat, extending his hand with a smile.

“I know,” you admitted, shaking his hand. “I recognized you after a few seconds. I just didn’t want to be that person who says it right away.”

“Well, I appreciate that,” Lando said, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand before he let it go.

“And I’m Y/N,” you added with a soft smile.

“I like it,” Lando said, his voice quieter now as the music shifted to something slower, the lights dimming around you both.

For a moment, everything seemed to fall away. It was just the two of you in that crowded club, standing a little too close but neither of you caring. You could feel the pull between you, something unspoken but undeniable. Lando hesitated for a second, then leaned down slightly, his voice barely above a whisper as he spoke.

“So, Y/N,” he began, his eyes locking onto yours, “what do I have to do to see you again?”

You felt your heart skip a beat, surprised by the question but also thrilled. You hadn’t expected anything from tonight—just a fun night out with your friend—but here you were, Lando Norris standing in front of you, asking for more time with you.

“Well,” you replied, biting your lip as you pretended to think it over. “I’d say don’t let me bump into anyone else tonight, and we can call it a deal.”

Lando laughed, shaking his head. “Deal.”

As the night drew on, the two of you stayed together, talking and laughing like you’d known each other for much longer than just a few hours. And as the club started to empty and the night air cooled, Lando realized that tonight had been different. It had been more than just a usual night out in Monaco. And as he walked you outside to make sure you got home safely, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the start of something unexpected, something exciting.

You exchanged numbers before parting ways, a soft promise hanging in the air between you both that this wouldn’t be the last time. And as Lando watched you disappear into the night, he couldn’t help but smile.

This was just the beginning.

୨ৎ

*:･ﾟ Notes; Thank you for readying! I hope you enjoyed it!

791 notes · View notes

arieslost · 8 months ago

Text

loudest in the paddock | cl16

summary: you’re charlie’s biggest fan.

word count: 1,013

warnings: suggestive comments at the end, possible bad writing (apologies in advance if this ends up being true)

masterlist — join my tag list here!

being charles leclerc’s girlfriend is a badge of honor that you wear with pride, and you love to make it known to everyone, whether there’s a camera on you or not.

the fans have a field day with all of your reactions that get captured on camera during race weekends, to the point where charles has a folder on his phone that is home to a number of memes that they’ve made of you. you just get easily excited, and clips of you yelling about something, whether good or bad, have gone viral on many separate occasions.

things are a little different this race. since the moment max’s brakes caught fire and then exploded as he was coming into the pit lane, you’ve been laser focused on the fact that your boyfriend’s teammate is in the lead, with your boyfriend himself only a couple seconds behind in p2. the only time your eyes weren’t glued to the tv was when you noticed someone standing in front of you to block the camera’s view of your celebratory dance when it was official that max had DNFed.

you’re practically biting your nails off as the laps go by, praying harder than you ever have before that this race ends well for ferrari. you hadn’t been able to attend the last race, so the possibility of witnessing charles on the podium in the flesh had you shaking in your boots. especially after how rough last season was.

and then george crashes on the last lap.

“what?!” you exclaim, flying out of your chair and covering your mouth with both hands.

the tv switches to a different camera that shows his car on its side in the middle of the track, and you can feel your heart in your throat as you wait for what looks like an obvious red flag. you can hear someone say your name, and out of the corner of your eye you can see your own face on another tv. usually you smile, wave, or make a funny face at the camera when you catch it filming you, but right now you’re too worried about the fact that only a yellow flag has been called along with a virtual safety car. your hands go from your mouth to your head as it’s confirmed that the race will finish under the virtual safety car, meaning a guaranteed ferrari 1-2 and charles on the podium.

you waste no time in throwing your headset down and cheering, getting wrapped up in hugs by the team as they pass you by to head to the side of the track and cheer carlos and charles across the finish line. while they do so, you rush out of the garage to find your way to the podium in order to get the best spot to see both ferrari drivers up there and hear the dulcet tones of a different anthem than that of the dutch one.

the wait goes by quicker than you thought, and they’re announcing lando’s name as he walks onto the podium to claim his third place finish. then the graphics behind the podium change to charles’, and the second his name is called you do what you’ve been waiting to do since the moment max retired from the race.

years of attending concerts and dance competitions had thoroughly prepared you for this moment. you cup your hands around your mouth, and the second you spot charles, you shout as loud as you possibly can.

“CHARLIEEEE!”

your scream renders everyone else silent for a few shocked moments, and you giggle when charles nearly trips over his own feet as he cranes his neck to try and find you. you shout his name again, sending the ferrari team into a chorus of similar cheers, and when charles finally spots you, his smile grows impossibly brighter and he blows you a kiss from the second place position on the podium.

he looks nothing short of ethereal— his hair fluffy and messy from being encased in his helmet, the rings adorning his fingers, the way he holds his chin up with barely contained pride as the team sings the italian national anthem. you make a mental note to tell him he’s been looking a lot like tony stark lately, and you’re loving it. even more so when he gets drenched in champagne, the confetti sticking to his soaked skin.

he has no struggle in finding you after the ceremony— as soon as you spot him, you let out a wolf whistle that has him blushing.

“there’s my girl,” he laughs as you launch yourself into his arms, kissing the top of your head. “made sure i could hear you all the way from the podium, huh?”

“of course, what did you expect?” you ask, smiling widely as you look at the trophy that got sandwiched between you both. “i’m so proud of you, charles. the whole world needs to know about it.”

“here,” he holds the trophy out to you. “pour toi, ma belle.”

“you’re shouldn’t have,” you tease, taking it into your hands and admiring it as best you can while trying to ignore your reflection in its surface. “this is amazing. you’re amazing. where’s carlos?”

“i thought you were my girlfriend,” he snatches the trophy back. “no more trophy for you.”

“but he won,” you continue, rolling your eyes when he pouts. “hey, i only gave him gracious applause. i seem to recall screaming your name before.”

“and it’s the only name you ever will.” he says with a wink, and you elbow him in the ribs.

“you are so…” you trail off, at a loss for words courtesy of his audacity.

“correct?” he supplies, wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing a kiss to your temple.

“i was thinking ‘unbelievable.’”

“i’m taking that as a compliment.” he says, before leaning in and whispering in your ear. “now let’s go back to the hotel and see how loud you can be for me there, hmm?”

you can only hope that the hotel walls are soundproof.

note: for some reason writing for charles is like fucking impossible for me so if this flops i have nothing and no one to blame but myself 💪🏼💪🏼

my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

tags: @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @sweatrevenge5436-blog @kimis-gloves @mia-rrrs @decafmickey @customsbyjcg-blog @bigheartsthings @tania2748 @scuderiadevils @iloveyou3000morgan @ctrlyomomma @hiireadstuff @daemyratwst @arian-directioner @evelyn-ny @avg-golden-retriever @likedbygaslyy

#blurb #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fluff #cl16 x reader #cl16 x you #cl16 imagine #cl16 one shot #cl16 fluff #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic

1K notes · View notes

longing-for-the-past-times · 1 year ago

Text

The four times you fell asleep on Ghost and the one time Ghost fell asleep on you - one.

simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader

word count: 2,542

synopsis: Throughout your time as a Task Force 141 operator, you fell asleep on your Lieutenant in random circumstances. What happens when he is the one to fall asleep on you?

notes: hope you enjoy this, it was initially meant to be max 500 words but I got carried away reader's callsign is Bambi (she/her)

find it on ao3 part one part two part three part four part five

masterlist

one.

In hindsight, the day shouldn't have been so draining; it had been an average day spent on base, involving physical training, shooting, and paperwork. You had endured much worse during missions where you could barely get some shut-eye between watches, but that was not the case.

The problem, the literal root of your heartaches was a cat, your sister's cat. You had been more than happy to take care of it when she so kindly asked under the pretence of having to spend a few nights out of town. You had been even happier when you went shopping for cat supplies with her - perhaps excited at the thought of having a furry cuddling partner. And you intentionally kept it a secret from your teammates, scared that they would drop by uninvited to help you take care of it when all you wanted was the creature's undivided attention.

The previous day, the first day she'd spent under your care was perfect: she, for the cat was a female, spent hours cuddled up on the couch, sleeping like there was no tomorrow. But when the night came, the little beast came to life. Scratch that, beast was an understatement - it was the spawn of Satan that had been racing through your bedroom, jumping on the windows, and left hanging on the curtains. The demon that kept butting his head against your door, and that launched violent attacks against your blanket until your alarm rang.

So that was why the plain day at the base was more draining than it should have been. You went on with training, the shooting session was average, and the paperwork had you dozing on your desk. Letting out a small sigh, you forced your eyes to stay open as you scanned the last mission’s report for any grammatical mistakes- which proved to be a tedious task, especially because you’d eaten not too long ago and your eyes became heavier each breath.

At the sound of another yawn, Ghost lifted his head from his own paperwork, glancing in your direction. He noticed with a frown your exhausted face and the way you blearily rubbed your eyes in an attempt to make the sleep go away. What was that kept you up last night? Or should he ask- who? He quickly shook his head at the thought, discarding it like a crumpled piece of paper thrown in the bin. He’d known you long enough to notice your mood shifts and he would know, he had to know, if you started seeing someone. Not that he had something against it - he wouldn’t be the one to pry into your personal life like that. After all, it was Johnny’s job who, in turn, would share the information with him.

But that did not mean he could not try to ensure you felt good enough in his presence - the team’s presence - to not feel the need of finding another someone. After all, it would only get you distracted and unprepared for the missions to come.

His reasoning was sound in his head, and when he saw you had given up, propping your head against a stack of papers while mindlessly glaring at your extended hand, he got up from his desk. He made sure the screeching of the chair was loud enough to alert you something was going on, and he suppressed a grimace under his mask when he saw you slowly turn to face him, eyes glossy with sleep. At that moment, glancing at you, he thought you were the perfect embodiment of the expression: no thoughts, head empty, and, as much as it amused him, he knew he had at least to get you out of the office.

"Come on, let's go."

Scrunching your eyes before blinking, you looked up at his massive figure that was currently towering above your desk. If you'd been more alert, you would have noticed a small sparkle in his eyes, but your efforts were put into battling off the waves of sleep that just kept coming. Your mind could not form a coherent thought: what was the time, did the lieutenant finish his paperwork already, where did he want to go-

The internal questions continued and you ended up yawning loudly again, closing your eyes for a couple of minutes. You just needed to rest them for a while and then you'd be fresh, prime, and proper to finish your day on base. Yet your brief rest was interrupted when you heard, or rather, felt, a hot breath across your face. As you opened your eyes, you realized Ghost had crouched down in front of your desk, his masked face being centimetres apart from yours. His eyes still had that tiny sparkle you noticed this time, and involuntarily you began staring at his amber orbs and blonde eyelashes. Countless times you studied his eyes fervently, trying to get a glimpse of the man behind the mask - so much that you began to be aware of every crease and crinkle that would form around them, depending on his mood. At the time being, there seemed to be no such lines, or perhaps you were too tired to actually notice them-

"You can finish this report tomorrow, Sergeant. Let's go!"

He gently nudged you with his arm, waiting for any reaction. When he didn't receive one, he rolled his eyes and groaned, he actually groaned, which made you perk your ears in disbelief:

"I'm up, I'm up!", you shot up and out of the chair, too surprised by his loud reaction. But you couldn't see his face anymore as he was already heading towards the door, back turned to you, left hand silently gesturing you to follow.

The walk to the lounging area was silent, with Simon walking in front and you trailing dutifully behind him. The silence was not uncomfortable though, which was not unusual: he was one of the very few people with whom you could sit in a room for hours and don't feel the need to fill the space with words. There was no explanation for it; it all came naturally and you were smart enough not to question it, knowing that the lieutenant could be difficult with people when he wanted to.

"Look who decided to show up! Ghost, Bambi - how kind of you to join us!"

You shook your head at Soap’s loud greeting, trying your best to hide your smile as you plopped down on the sofa, next to Ghost. Captain Price was already seated in his designated armchair, leafing through what seemed to be a handbook, while Gaz was lounging on the other sofa, next to Soap. As usual, other members of the task force would come and go, bidding silent greetings, and at that moment, the comfort and familiarity of the atmosphere made you sigh softly as you propped your head on your hand while leaning against the armrest.

"Sleepless night, Y/N?"

Price did not look up from his book as he asked the question, but you knew he must have been watching you throughout the day, taking note of the sleepy state you'd often found yourself in. You also knew that he would have stepped in the moment he considered you pushed yourself too far, but for the time being, you were just satisfied that you managed to get through the day.

"Who's keeping you up at night, Bambi?", Soap quickly chimed in, a signature smirk plastered on his face. A smirk that widened even more when he noticed Ghost rolling his eyes, next to you. "Is there someone we should know about?"

"You're shameless, Johnny", you spat back at him, straightening yourself in an attempt to seem more collected. "...and even if there was someone, you think I'd throw them to the wolves?"

Gaz chuckled loudly at the remark, while Price was trying to hide his grin behind the pages. At that moment, Simon was glad the balaclava was hiding his features - the smirk he was sporting could rival Soap's.

"My sister left town for a couple of days", you eventually resumed, running a hand through your hair, "and asked me to take care of her cat-"

As expected, protests and offended remarks could be heard from both Soap and Gaz, the men demanding why they were not told of this earlier. They could have helped-

"The only help I'd get from you would consist of you two laying to sleep with her on the couch. But here's the catch, the beast only sleeps in the daytime - but when the night comes, she transforms into this dark demon which runs around the house and attacks my feet when I try to sleep!"

"Never had a cat before, Y/N? When you were a kid?"

You shook your head at Price's question, frowning when you notice his sympathetic expression:

"You need to keep them busy throughout the day, and then leave enough food for them at night. As a last resort, locking them in the bathroom is a good solution, but you need to first remove everything from the shelves."

"Or we could come in and babysit the baby!", Gaz kept pushing, an innocent smile gracing his features. "Sure, you had a rough night, but how hard can it possibly be, to take care of a creature whose routine mainly consists of eating and sleeping?"

"Well, it's only three more days. I'll manage somehow..."

As the conversation shifted to another topic you were too tired to understand fully, you laid your head against the wall, letting your body sink into the couch. There it was again, that soft hum that lulled you to sleep- not that you would actually fall asleep in the lounging area. No, you would just rest your eyes for a couple of minutes, before heading towards your car and riding back home to the little creature that must have been expecting you.

***

At first, Ghost did not seem to notice the shift of weight on his right arm. He was too busy scrolling on his phone, searching for articles about cats and their nocturnal habits. It wasn't until the room was too quiet for his liking that he looked up from his phone, his eyes meeting Soap's as his teammate was silently pointing to his right - in your direction.

He slowly turned his head towards you, his eyes widening almost comically behind his mask. You were the dead weight on his shoulder, soundly asleep, your left cheek squished against his arm. Of all the days, it was that specific day that he opted for a plain black t-shirt after training, and he was definitely overthinking his choice. Your skin felt soft and warm against his, enough to short-wire all the working circuits in his brain, prompting him to freeze and stare at you. The complete implications of this gesture would hit him later, when he would be lying in bed, unable to sleep, but for the time being, he could solely focus on the facts at hand: you were there, next to him, leaning against him, sleeping peacefully.

And he only wanted to keep an eye on you and kill anyone who had the slightest intention of waking you up.

"Where's that camera when you need it!", Soap quietly grumbled as he got up and started fumbling on one of the shelves, ignoring the daggers Ghost was shooting at him through his eyes.

"Top shelf, Soap - you put it there the last time you used it!", Price whispered with a sigh of mild frustration.

"Guys, be quiet, let the girl get some rest!", Gaz hissed as well before Soap joined him back on the couch, a dusty Polaroid camera in his hands:

"Alright, this one's for the books! Come on, give us a big smile, L.T.!"

He might have been unable to move, but his gaze spoke volumes- a true death glare though and through, quickly captured by Soap through the lenses and printed on the small Polaroid photo sheet. Gaz leaned over Soap's shoulder to see the result and even Price scooted his armchair a bit closer, a small grin dancing his lips. The picture was proudly placed on the wooden panel, next to one depicting the Captain sleeping just as soundly in the very same armchair he was currently sitting in. And in the meantime, Ghost could only feign indifference, letting his signature eye roll showcase his opinion about the situation.

He could not explain, could not even place a finger on or identify the warm and comforting sensation he was feeling in his chest. He was so used to the cold and dull feeling that had taken residence in there- yet there it was, a glimmer of hope, a ray of sun on a cold autumn day.

You felt safe in his presence, safe enough to put yourself in a vulnerable position in his proximity.

And he would do anything to keep things that way.

***

Bonus scene:

Letting out a small whimper, you stretched your limbs while keeping your eyes closed. You could not figure out how you got home or why your pillow was sporting a distinct smell of cigarette smoke, sweat and cologne, but your semi-conscious mind was too busy keeping you asleep that you did not seem to care.

Wait...

That scent was familiar. You were in its presence on an almost daily basis that you could tell it in your sleep. Well, not literally, considering that your mind was still trying to piece it out- why was your pillow smelling like Ghost?

You jerked yourself awake with a start, your groggy mind taking a couple of moments to process the fact that you were actually not in your bed, but in the lounging room at the base. And your pillow was not really your pillow, but actually, Ghost's shoulder and your cheek was fully squished against it.

"Look who's up, Sleeping Beauty herself..."

From your current position, his voice felt like a deep rumble, vibrating through your body and resonating in your bones in an unsettling manner. With a herculean effort, you managed to prop yourself against the other side of the couch, blearily blinking the sleep from your eyes. A faint blush spread across your cheeks, warmth radiating through your face as embarrassment tinged your features. It took all you had not to cover your face in your hands.

"I’m so sorry, L.T. - I really didn’t mean to-" "It’s alright, Bambi. No harm done."

The lack of your weight against him made him feel empty in a way he struggled to define. He tried to brush it away by rising from the couch and making a show of rolling his shoulder in front of you, calmly watching your embarrassed figure through his thick eyelashes. Your cheeks were already sporting an uncharacteristic rosy hue and your renowned doe eyes were widened, a glimmer of sheepishness and self-consciousness reflecting in them. He would never admit it to anyone, but he secretly adored the fact that he was one of the few people who could coax such a reaction from you.

"Although next time you might want to do it in a room without Soap. It’s likely that the entire base will learn of it by tomorrow."

A/N: wrote this on a whim, not proofread so it may contain grammatical errors (and more) updates won't be regular as I'm a college student with a full-time job

Hope you enjoyed it :)

#ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost riley #ghost x you #ghost mw2 #cod ghost #task force 141 #simon ghost riley imagine #ghost imagine #simon riley fluff #ghost fluff #call of duty imagine

4K notes · View notes

mrsfancyferrari · 3 months ago

Text

Love Sick

Summary: You and Max have been together for a while and you knew he loved you but you didn't know to what extent.

Song: Infrunami - Steve Lacy

Author’s note: Please like, reblog and share this! <3

Word count: 6.8k

You and Max had been in a loving relationship for quite some time, a bond that everyone around you could see.

Friends and family often remarked on the chemistry you shared, but there was a depth to Max's feelings that you had yet to fully grasp.

It was during a particularly chilly race weekend that everything changed.

You had been feeling under the weather, but your determination to support him pushed you to follow him into the paddock on Thursday, despite his insistence that you should rest at home.

"You should really take it easy," he had said, concern etched on his face. "I can’t race without you cheering me on, Max," you replied, a smile masking your discomfort.

As you stepped into the paddock, the cold air nipped at your skin, and you shivered slightly in your light dress while Max was comfortably clad in his team shirt. He noticed your discomfort almost immediately, his eyes softening with concern.

"You’re freezing!" he exclaimed, taking your hands in his.

The warmth of his palms enveloped your fingers as he rubbed them together, blowing gentle breaths of warm air onto them. The fans around you caught the tender moment on their cameras, and you could feel the flutter of butterflies in your chest.

"You always know how to make me feel better," you said, your voice barely above a whisper, but the sincerity in your words was unmistakable.

As you made your way to Red Bull's garage, Max was already thinking ahead. "Wait here," he instructed, darting off to find a blanket.

You watched him go, your heart swelling with affection. Moments later, he returned, a thick, cozy blanket in his arms. "Here, this should help," he said, wrapping it around you tightly.

You felt the warmth envelop you, and it was as if he was shielding you from the cold and the world outside.

"I can’t believe you came out here when you’re not feeling well," he said, his brow furrowing with concern. "I wouldn’t miss it for the world," you replied, looking into his eyes and realizing just how much he truly cared.

As he left for the press conference, you felt a surge of love for him, knowing that this moment was just a glimpse into the depths of his affection.

You settled into a nearby chair, the blanket cocooning you in warmth. You watched him walk away, his confident stride and focused demeanor a stark contrast to the tenderness he had just shown you.

It was moments like these that made you appreciate the layers of his personality—the fierce competitor on the track and the caring partner off it.

Time seemed to slip away as you drifted into a peaceful nap, the blanket enveloping you like a gentle hug. When Max returned, he paused at the sight of you sleeping soundly on the sofa. A smile crept across his face, but he hesitated, not wanting to disturb your rest.

“You look so peaceful,” he murmured to himself, deciding instead to join you. He settled down beside you, wrapping his arms around you, feeling the warmth radiate between you.

“I’ll just stay here until you wake up,” he whispered softly, his fingers gently brushing through your hair as he closed his eyes, content to simply be near you.

Eventually, you stirred, blinking against the soft light and feeling the comforting weight of Max beside you.

“Hey there, sleepyhead,” he greeted, his eyes sparkling with affection. “I didn’t want to wake you, but I missed you.”

You smiled, still a bit groggy, and he helped you sit up. “Let’s get you home,” he said, his tone shifting to one of care.

Once you arrived, he guided you to the bathroom. “A warm shower will do wonders,” he insisted.

The moment the warm water hit your skin, you felt an immediate sense of relief and relaxation. The heat seeped into your muscles, easing the tension and washing away the remnants of the cold you had braved earlier.

As the steam enveloped you, it was as if every drop was rejuvenating your spirit, leaving you feeling refreshed and comforted.

You closed your eyes, letting the water cascade over you, and your mind wandered back to the tender moments shared with Max. The warmth of the shower mirrored the warmth of his embrace, and you couldn't help but smile, feeling grateful for his unwavering support and love.

The day's worries seemed to melt away, replaced by a deep sense of contentment and appreciation for the life you were building together.

Meanwhile, Max busied himself in the kitchen, preparing a simple yet hearty meal to further soothe you after your long day. He set the table with care, ensuring everything was perfect for when you rejoined him.

As he heard the water turn off, he quickly finished up, eager to see the relaxed expression on your face.

“Max! You didn’t have to!” you exclaimed, stepping into the kitchen with a towel wrapped around your shoulders.

The delicious aroma wafting through the air made your stomach rumble, and you couldn't help but smile at the sight of his thoughtful preparation.

He turned to face you, a playful grin on his lips. “Nonsense, I wanted to,” he replied, pulling out a chair for you.

“You’ve had a long day, and it’s my turn to take care of you. Besides, I enjoy cooking for you.”

You sat down, touched by his gesture. “Thank you, Max. You always know how to make everything better,” you said sincerely, reaching out to squeeze his hand.

He leaned in and kissed your forehead, his eyes filled with affection. “That’s because you mean the world to me,” he whispered, making your heart swell with love as you both settled in to enjoy the meal together.

After you both settled into bed, you watched as he prepared for his sim training. “I’ll be right back,” he promised, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

“Get some more rest; I’ll join you soon.”

As he left, you felt a wave of gratitude wash over you, knowing that no matter how busy life got, he always made time for you. . . .

As Friday dawned, a sense of relief washed over you, a welcome change from the heaviness of the previous days. You felt a spark of energy that was enough to persuade Max that you were fit to join him at the paddock.

With a playful grin, you rummaged through your wardrobe, finally settling on a chic yet comfortable outfit. You chose a fitted black tank top that accentuated your figure, paired with high-waisted denim shorts that offered both style and ease of movement.

To complete the look, you slipped on a pair of white sneakers, perfect for a day filled with excitement and activity. A light denim jacket hung loosely over your shoulders, ready to fend off any unexpected chill.

The atmosphere at the paddock was electric, buzzing with the anticipation of the day’s events. You knew it was going to be a whirlwind, but your heart swelled with pride knowing that Max would need your support as the day progressed.

As the engines roared to life and the cars zoomed past, you found yourself surrounded by the girls—Alex, Lily, and Rebecca—who were all too eager to share in the excitement.

They exchanged knowing glances and playful nudges, their laughter ringing out as they began to tease you about your relationship with Max. “You know he’s head over heels for you, right?” Alex chimed in, a mischievous glint in her eye.

You chuckled, rolling your eyes playfully at their antics. “Oh, come on! It’s not like that,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant, but the warmth creeping into your cheeks betrayed your true feelings.

Lily leaned in closer, a smirk plastered on her face.

“Please, we all see the way he looks at you. It’s like you’re the only one in the room!” Rebecca added, her voice teasing yet sincere.

You couldn’t help but smile, feeling a mix of embarrassment and joy at their words. “Alright, alright! Maybe he does care a little,” you admitted, your heart fluttering at the thought.

The camaraderie among you and the girls made the day even more special, and as you cheered for Max from the sidelines, you felt a sense of belonging that made every moment worthwhile.

As Max stepped out of the car, the tension in the air was palpable. You were standing nearby, ready to offer him a comforting embrace, knowing all too well the challenges he faced with the troublesome vehicle.

The frustration of dealing with a poorly performing car weighed heavily on him, and you could see it etched on his face.

Without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around him, feeling the warmth of his body against yours.

"You did everything you could," you whispered softly into his shoulder, hoping to ease some of the burden he carried.

Max pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes with a mixture of gratitude and exhaustion. "Thanks, schatje," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper, yet filled with sincerity.

The bond between you two was undeniable, forged through shared experiences and the ups and downs of racing life.

He took a deep breath, trying to shake off the disappointment, but you could sense that he was still grappling with the weight of the day.

"I need to go check on my performance before the second practice," he said, his brow furrowing as he turned to head towards the paddock.

As he walked away, you felt a familiar ache beginning to throb at your temples, a headache creeping in as the stress of the day settled over you. You leaned against the wall, watching him disappear into the chaos of the pit area, where engineers and mechanics buzzed around like bees.

The noise of the crowd and the whir of machinery filled the air, but your mind was elsewhere, replaying the moments of the day.

You knew that racing was a relentless pursuit, filled with highs and lows, and you wished you could shield him from the pressures that came with it.

With a sigh, you closed your eyes for a moment, hoping that the next practice would bring better results for Max, and that the headache would soon fade away.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a warm golden hue over the practice field, Max stood by the sidelines, his eyes scanning the area for you.

The second practice of the day was about to commence, and the excitement in the air was palpable. Just as the engineers were perfecting his car, Max waved you over with an eager grin.

You could see the determination in his eyes, but there was something else there too—a hint of mischief that made your heart flutter.

"Hey, can you give me a kiss before I head out?" he asked, his voice playful yet sincere.

You felt a pang of hesitation as you remembered the cold that had settled in your chest. "Max, I'm really not feeling well. I could pass this on to you, and I wouldn’t want to ruin your day," you replied, trying to sound as convincing as possible.

But Max just shook his head, his expression unwavering. "I’d rather get sick than miss out on your kiss. Besides, that’s not how your good luck charm works," he insisted, a teasing lilt in his voice that made it hard to resist.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his stubbornness, even as you felt a wave of affection wash over you. "You know, you’re going to regret this if you end up with a sore throat," you warned, crossing your arms playfully.

Max stepped closer, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "I’ll take my chances. Just one kiss, and I promise I’ll be back to my usual self in no time," he said, leaning in slightly, his confidence infectious.

With a resigned smile, you gave in, your resolve crumbling under Max's unwavering gaze.

Leaning forward, you pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, feeling the warmth and familiarity that always seemed to erase your worries, if only for a moment.

His lips lingered on yours, and as you pulled away, you noticed the sparkle in his eyes had intensified, a mix of determination and pure joy.

"See? I feel better already," Max said with a wink, his grin broadening. You couldn't help but laugh, shaking your head at his boundless optimism.

"Now go out there and show them what you're made of," you encouraged, giving him a playful shove towards the car.

As he jogged off, you watched him with a renewed sense of hope, the cold in your chest momentarily forgotten, replaced by the warmth of his love and the promise of better times ahead.

The familiar sound of his vehicle echoed in your ears, but instead of feeling a sense of relief, a dull ache began to throb at your temples. You rubbed your forehead gently, hoping to ease the discomfort, but the tension only seemed to intensify.

You glanced around, noticing the bustling crowd around you, but the thought of sharing your discomfort with anyone felt unnecessary.

After all, everyone seemed preoccupied with their own lives, and you didn’t want to burden them with your headache.

Max had a knack for turning moments into memories, and today was no exception. After securing P1 in the second practice, he bounded out of the car with an infectious energy that made your heart race.

As he approached you, a playful grin spread across his face, and without hesitation, he leaned in to plant a kiss on your lips. "See? I told you it works," he teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

You couldn’t help but smile back, feeling a warmth that momentarily chased away the headache that had been nagging at you all day.

"Okay, Max," you replied, your voice light despite the discomfort. The thrill of his victory was palpable, and you wanted to share in that joy, even if it meant masking your own growing unease.

However, the celebration was short-lived as Max was soon swept away by a flurry of media obligations.

You watched him engage with reporters, his charisma shining through as he answered questions and posed for photos. Each laugh and smile he shared with the cameras felt like a reminder of the energy you were lacking.

As the minutes ticked by, your headache intensified, a dull throb that seemed to echo the excitement around you. You tried to focus on the moment, but the growing discomfort made it increasingly difficult.

Finally, once the media duties were done, you both headed home, the car ride filled with a comfortable silence that allowed you to gather your thoughts, even as you felt the weight of your fatigue pressing down on you.

Once you arrived home, the first thing you did was rush to the bathroom to grab the thermometer. You needed to know just how bad it was. As you waited for the reading, you felt a mix of anxiety and relief when it showed a high temperature, but thankfully, it wasn’t high enough to warrant a trip to the hospital.

You decided to keep this information to yourself, not wanting to distract Max from his focus on the qualifying race tomorrow.

Just as you were trying to shake off the worry, you heard his voice call out from the kitchen, "Schatje! I made you some food!" The smell wafting through the air was enticing, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to eat.

"Umm, Max, I don’t feel hungry," you replied, hoping he wouldn’t press the issue.

He appeared in the doorway, concern etched on his face. "But you hardly ate anything today. Are you okay?" he asked, his brow furrowing.

"I’m fine, really," you insisted, forcing a smile. "Just a bit tired from all the excitement today. I think I just need some rest."

You hoped he would accept your answer and let it go, but the worry in his eyes told you he wasn’t convinced.

"Are you sure?" he pressed, stepping closer and reaching out to touch your forehead. "You’re a bit warm. Maybe you should see a doctor."

You shook your head gently, trying to reassure him. "It’s nothing serious, Max. Probably just a minor bug. I’ll be alright after a good night’s sleep. You need to focus on tomorrow’s race; I’ll be cheering you on from bed if I have to."

Max sighed but didn’t push further. "Alright, but promise me you'll let me know if it gets worse," he said, his voice laced with concern.

You nodded, appreciating his worry but not wanting to add to his stress. "I promise," you replied softly, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

He lingered for a moment, his eyes searching yours as if trying to gauge your honesty. Finally, he seemed to accept your words and gave a small nod.

"I'll leave the food here in case you change your mind," he said, placing the plate on the table next to you. "And if you need anything, just call for me, okay?"

You watched him return to the kitchen, feeling a pang of guilt for not being entirely truthful about your condition. As much as you wanted to be strong for him, the fatigue was overwhelming.

You settled into bed, pulling the covers around you tightly, hoping that sleep would come quickly and wash away the day's worries. . . .

Saturday dawned with an unwelcome chill that seeped into your bones, leaving you shivering under the covers. As you reluctantly peeled back the sheets, a wave of discomfort washed over you, manifesting as a relentless headache and muscle aches that felt like a freight train had run over you.

The loss of appetite was particularly disheartening; the thought of food made your stomach churn, and irritability simmered just beneath the surface.

You could feel the weight of the day pressing down on you, and it took every ounce of persuasion to convince Max that you should accompany him to the paddock.

“I promise I’ll be fine,” you insisted, forcing a smile as you pushed through the nausea that threatened to overwhelm you.

Even the breakfast he prepared, which usually brought you joy, felt like a monumental task, but you managed to eat a few bites without revealing the turmoil inside.

After a long internal debate, you settled on a cozy outfit that would keep you warm despite the chill in the air. You slipped into a thick, oversized sweater that enveloped you like a comforting hug, its soft fabric soothing against your skin.

Paired with snug leggings and your favorite pair of fuzzy socks, you felt a little more at ease, even if the discomfort lingered. To top it off, you wrapped a stylish scarf around your neck, its vibrant colors a stark contrast to your pallor.

As you walked into the paddock alongside Max, you made a conscious effort to maintain a cheerful demeanor, your smile brightening your face even as your body protested.

“You look great today,” Max said, glancing at you with a mix of concern and admiration. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” You nodded, determined to keep the façade intact.

Just before Max climbed into his car for qualifying, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, a moment of warmth that momentarily distracted you from your discomfort.

“Good luck out there! I know you’ll do amazing,” you encouraged, your voice steady despite the turmoil brewing inside.

As he smiled back, a flicker of pride in his eyes, you felt a rush of affection for him. But as soon as he drove off, the reality of your condition hit hard.

You rushed to the nearest bathroom, the world around you blurring as you barely made it in time to throw up.

“Why today of all days?” you muttered to yourself, feeling defeated. The vibrant atmosphere of the paddock faded into the background.

The thought of Max finding out gnawed at you as you leaned against the cool tile wall for support. You knew he would be worried sick, probably insisting you see a doctor immediately and potentially even jeopardizing his focus for the race.

The last thing you wanted was to be the cause of any distraction or stress for him on such an important day.

You took a deep breath, willing yourself to regain composure. "I can handle this," you whispered, splashing cold water on your face and rinsing your mouth.

You stared at your reflection, determined not to let this moment define the day. After tidying yourself up, you smoothed down your sweater and adjusted your scarf, hoping to erase any signs of your recent struggle.

With a final, resolute nod, you stepped out of the bathroom, the bustling noise of the paddock washing over you once more.

As you made your way to meet the girls, you plastered a smile on your face, determined to keep the mood light and positive.

They greeted you with enthusiasm, their energy a welcome distraction from your internal battle. You joined their lively conversation, laughing at their jokes and sharing in their excitement for the event.

Though the discomfort lingered, you felt a renewed sense of resolve; you were determined to be strong for Max and for yourself, no matter what.

You kept yourself busy and distracted until Max was finished with his racing duties by immersing yourself in the various activities around the paddock.

You visited the merchandise stalls, chatted with other fans, and even took some time to explore the behind-the-scenes areas.

Every now and then, you would check your phone for updates on Max's progress, your heart racing with each notification.

When the race finally ended, you made your way to the team's garage, your nerves a mix of excitement and lingering unease.

Max emerged, covered in sweat but grinning from ear to ear, his performance clearly a success. You rushed to congratulate him, wrapping your arms around him in a tight embrace.

"You were incredible out there!" you exclaimed, pushing aside your own discomfort for the moment.

Max, full of adrenaline and joy, kissed you deeply and whispered, "Couldn't have done it without you."

His words melted your heart, and for a moment, the world around you faded away. "I was so worried," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "But seeing you out there, giving it your all, it reminded me why we do this. It’s all worth it."

Max pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes with a seriousness that belied his earlier joy.

"I know it’s tough, but having you here means everything to me. You’re my rock, and knowing you’re cheering me on gives me the strength to push harder."

"Thanks, Max," you smiled, kissing him again. "But promise me you'll always be careful out there. I worry about you more than you know."

Max nodded, his expression softening. "I promise. Your support means the world to me, and I don’t want to ever let you down. Just knowing you're here, it keeps me grounded and focused."

Max finished quickly enough with his media duties, and soon the two of you were heading home. The drive was quiet but comfortable, each of you lost in your thoughts.

The adrenaline from the race still buzzed in Max's veins, while you reflected on the whirlwind of emotions you had experienced throughout the day.

As the city lights blurred past the car windows, you reached over and squeezed Max’s hand, silently conveying your support and love.

Once you arrived home, the exhaustion from the day's events began to set in. Max headed for a quick shower while you prepared a light dinner, the comforting routine of home life easing the lingering tension.

Sitting down to eat, you both shared the highlights of the day, laughing about the little moments that stood out.

Despite the challenges, you felt a sense of contentment, knowing that you could face anything as long as you were together.

But amidst the laughter and conversation, you couldn't ignore the dull, persistent pain in your head. It had been creeping up on you throughout the day, but you'd pushed it aside, focusing on Max and his triumph.

Now, in the quiet of your home, it was harder to ignore. You rubbed your temples, trying to alleviate the discomfort without drawing attention to it.

Max noticed your subtle wince and reached across the table, concern etched on his face. "Are you okay?" he asked softly.

You forced a smile and nodded, not wanting to dampen his spirits. "Just a headache," you replied, hoping it would pass soon. Max squeezed your hand reassuringly.

"Why don't you rest? I'll take care of everything tonight," he suggested.

Grateful for his understanding, you agreed, hoping that a good night's sleep would finally chase away the pain. . . .

Sunday dawned with a heavy sense of malaise, the worst of the four days you had been feeling under the weather. Despite the fatigue weighing down your limbs and the persistent ache in your head, the allure of the Grand Prix was too strong to resist.

You were determined to be there, to stand by Max’s side as he raced, cheering him on with every ounce of energy you could muster.

The sun peeked through the clouds, casting a warm glow that made you feel slightly better, prompting you to choose a light outfit that would keep you comfortable throughout the day.

You slipped into a breezy white sundress that danced around your knees, paired with a denim jacket that added a touch of casual flair. The outfit was completed with your favorite sneakers, perfect for navigating the bustling paddock.

As you and Max prepared for the day ahead, you could sense his concern. “Are you sure you’re up for this?” he asked, his brow furrowed with worry.

You flashed him a reassuring smile, determined to mask your discomfort. “I’m fine, really! Just a little tired. I think I’ll grab something to eat in the hospitality room later,” you replied, hoping to deflect his attention.

The truth was, you had no intention of eating; the thought of food made your stomach churn. You just wanted to be there for him, to soak in the atmosphere and support him as he took on the challenges of the race.

Max nodded, though you could tell he wasn’t entirely convinced. “Alright, but if you need anything, just let me know,” he said, his voice laced with concern.

With a quick kiss on his cheek, you left Max to focus on the data and the car, knowing he needed to concentrate.

As you wandered through the paddock, the excitement of the day began to lift your spirits. The sounds of engines revving and the chatter of the team filled the air, creating an electric atmosphere that was hard to resist.

You spotted a few familiar faces and exchanged greetings, all while keeping your energy up with the adrenaline of the event.

Even though you were battling your own discomfort, the thrill of the Grand Prix and the chance to support Max made it all worthwhile. You were determined to be his biggest cheerleader, no matter how you felt inside.

You leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss on his lips, wishing him all the luck in the world before he sped off to the starting line. The roar of engines and the cheers of the crowd filled the air, but your mind was elsewhere, tangled in a web of anxiety and pain.

You decided to immerse yourself in the excitement of the race, hoping that the adrenaline of the event would distract you from the turmoil brewing inside.

"Just focus on the race," you whispered to yourself, trying to drown out the nagging thoughts that threatened to overwhelm you.

As the laps dwindled down and the finish line approached, you could feel the weight of your discomfort intensifying. The vibrant atmosphere that once thrilled you now felt suffocating, and the cheers of the crowd morphed into a cacophony that only heightened your unease.

"I can't do this," you muttered under your breath, glancing around at the sea of faces, all caught up in the excitement.

With a heavy heart, you made the decision to escape the throng of spectators and seek solace in Max's driver’s room. The thought of being alone with your thoughts was daunting, but the idea of staying in the crowd felt unbearable.

As you navigated through the bustling crowd, a wave of dizziness washed over you, and the world around you began to spin.

You stumbled slightly, clutching your head as you fought to maintain your balance. "I need to sit down," you gasped, feeling lightheaded and weak.

In a moment of desperation, you pulled out your phone and quickly typed a message to a friend who could help.

Help me please

You sent, your fingers trembling as you pressed send.

Just as you turned to make your way to safety, the room tilted dangerously, and you felt yourself slipping into darkness, the last thing you heard was the distant roar of the crowd fading away. . . .

Alexandra was caught up in the excitement of the race, her heart swelling with pride as she cheered for her boyfriend, who had just crossed the finish line in a commendable second place.

The crowd erupted in applause, but amidst the celebration, she finally glanced at her phone, her heart dropping as she read your urgent message.

"Oh no, what happened?" she muttered under her breath, her eyes darting through the throng of spectators. She quickly navigated her way through the sea of bodies, her heart racing not just from the thrill of the race but from the growing concern for you.

As she checked the map on her phone, she cursed herself for not being more attentive. "Ten minutes ago? Why didn’t I check sooner?" she thought, panic rising in her chest.

The message had been clear, a cry for help that she had missed in the excitement of the moment.

She also knew that your boyfriend wasn't going to take the news lightly, winning today's grand prix or not. He had always been fiercely protective of you, and knowing that you were in distress would undoubtedly overshadow his hard-earned victory.

Alexandra quickened her pace, anxiety gnawing at her as she hoped to find you safe and sound. The celebration, the cheers, and the victory now seemed like distant echoes compared to the urgency of locating you.

Racing through the crowd, she could almost feel the weight of your boyfriend’s impending reaction.

She knew he’d drop everything to be by your side, and the thought of seeing his worried face spurred her on even more.

As she approached the driver's room, her heart pounded in her chest, both from the exertion and the fear of what she might find. "Please be okay," she whispered to herself, pushing open the door and scanning the room frantically. . . .

Max, meanwhile, was reveling in his recent triumph, completing laps around the track with a sense of elation that only victory could bring. The cheers of the crowd echoed in his ears, but that joy was abruptly interrupted by a crackling voice over the radio.

"Max, I hate to break your celebration, but we have a situation with Y/N," the voice said, laced with concern. Max's heart raced as he slowed his pace, his mind racing with worry.

"What’s going on?" he asked, his brow furrowing as he made his way toward the podium, where the top three racers were set to be honored.

The thought of anything happening to you sent a chill down his spine, and he could feel the adrenaline shifting from the thrill of victory to a deep-seated anxiety.

"Someone will be waiting to take you to the infirmary as soon as you get out of the car," the voice continued, and Max's stomach dropped.

"Infirmary? What do you mean? Is Y/N okay?" he pressed, urgency lacing his tone.

The radio crackled again, but all he could think about was you, hoping you were alright. As he reached the podium, the cheers of the crowd faded into the background, replaced by a singular focus on getting to you as quickly as possible.

The celebration felt distant now; all that mattered was ensuring your safety.

He could barely hear the announcer calling his name, the accolades and applause blurring into a haze as he focused solely on getting to you as quickly as possible.

The moment he brought the car to a halt, a sense of urgency surged through him. He dashed toward the infirmary, his familiarity with the winding corridors and the scent of antiseptic guiding his hurried steps.

Today was supposed to be a day of celebration, a podium ceremony that he had anticipated for days but instead, his heart raced with concern for you.

He never imagined that he would find himself rushing to the infirmary under such distressing circumstances, especially not because of you.

As he pushed open the door, the sight that greeted him was both alarming and heart-wrenching. There you were, sitting on the edge of a hospital bed, looking pale and disoriented, an ice pack pressed against your forehead.

Alexandra was by your side, her grip firm around your hand, her expression a mix of worry and relief. The moment their eyes met, Alexandra's face lit up with a glimmer of hope.

"Thank goodness you're here!" she exclaimed, her voice trembling slightly.

"Has the podium ceremony ended?" she asked, her concern for you momentarily overshadowing the event they had both been looking forward to.

He shook his head, his focus solely on you. "That doesn't matter right now. What happened?" he pressed, his voice steady but laced with urgency.

Alexandra took a deep breath, her eyes darting between him and you. "She was unconscious when I found her in your driver's room," she explained, her voice barely above a whisper.

The weight of her words hung in the air, and he felt a knot tighten in his stomach. "Unconscious? How long was she out?" he asked, his heart racing as he moved closer to you, desperate to see you recover.

Alexandra's eyes filled with concern as she replied, "Around 15 minutes, but it felt like an eternity."

He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face, determined to be there for you in this moment of vulnerability.

The doctor leaned against the doorframe, his expression serious as he relayed the news.

"She collapsed earlier today, and the primary reason appears to be a high fever. Did you notice any symptoms before this happened?" he inquired, his gaze shifting to him with an intensity that made him squirm.

"No, I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. The weight of guilt settled heavily on his shoulders, a suffocating reminder of the moments he had overlooked.

He replayed the last few days in his mind, recalling how you had seemed a bit off during their meals together. He should have insisted you see a doctor, should have been more vigilant, but instead, he had brushed it off, thinking it was just fatigue.

"Max?" The soft voice broke through his thoughts, and he looked up to see your eyes fluttering open.

Relief washed over him, but it was quickly overshadowed by the nagging feeling of regret. "I didn’t realize you were awake," he admitted, his heart racing as he took in your pale complexion.

You offered a weak smile, but it did little to ease the turmoil inside him.

Just then, Alexandra stood up from her seat, her presence a welcome distraction. "I’ll go inform the team about your condition," she said, her tone warm.

"Thanks, Alex," he replied, his eyes still fixed on you, unwilling to look away even for a moment. He wanted to be there for you, to make sure you knew you weren't alone in this.

As Alexandra stepped out, the silence in the room felt heavy, punctuated only by the soft beeping of the machines around them. He leaned closer, his voice low and filled with concern.

"You scared me back there. I should have noticed something was wrong," he confessed, his heart aching with the weight of his unspoken fears.

You reached out, your fingers brushing against his hand, a small gesture that spoke volumes.

"It’s okay, Max. I didn’t realize it either," you reassured him, your voice soft but steady.

He could see the strength in your eyes, a flicker of resilience that made him admire you even more.

In that moment, he vowed to never let his guard down again, to always be attentive to the signs, no matter how subtle they might be.

"Did you win?" you inquired, your curiosity evident in your tone.

Max's face lit up with a grin as he replied, "Absolutely, schatje, I won just for you."

Your gaze drifted down to his chest, where you noticed the absence of a medal that should have been proudly displayed.

A sense of unease crept in as you asked, "You didn’t attend the medal ceremony, did you?" The moment the words left your lips, you could see the color drain from his face, and beads of sweat began to form on his brow.

"You were far too important to me! I had to find out why you were in the infirmary," Max stammered, his voice tinged with a mix of anxiety and determination. You could tell he was trying to justify his decision, but the weight of his choice hung heavily in the air.

"Max, you realize you could face a fine for skipping out on the ceremony, right?" you pressed, your concern for him mingling with frustration.

He shook his head defiantly, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. "I don’t care about that! Knowing you’re okay is worth more than any medal or ceremony," he declared, his stubbornness shining through.

You let out a sigh, a blend of exasperation and affection swirling within you. "You really need to take care of yourself too, you know," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Max stepped closer, his expression softening as he reached out to take your hand.

"I promise, I’ll make it up to you. Just seeing you here, safe and sound, is the only victory I need," he replied earnestly.

The warmth of his grip enveloped you, and in that moment, the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you and the unspoken bond that tied your hearts together.

"You mean everything to me; I’d choose you every time," he murmured, and at that moment, the world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the bond forged through both sacrifice and a shared understanding.

As the tension in the room began to ease, you reached out, your fingers brushing against his. The connection sparked something deeper, and without thinking, you leaned in and shared a soft kiss.

It was a moment that transcended the worries of the world outside, a promise that you were both in this together.

"I am kind of glad you came," you whispered against his lips, feeling the warmth of his presence envelop you.

Max smiled, his expression softening as he replied, "I’ll always be here for you, no matter what."

As the moment hung in the air, you felt the warmth of Max's lips against yours, a spark igniting between you. He leaned in closer, his hands exploring the contours of your body, sending shivers down your spine.

The kiss deepened, becoming more passionate, as if the world around you faded away, leaving just the two of you in this intimate bubble.

It was a moment that felt both exhilarating and electric, a perfect blend of desire and connection that made your heart race.

Suddenly, the reality of the situation broke through the haze of your emotions. You pulled back slightly, a playful smile dancing on your lips as you looked into Max's eyes.

"Alright, enough of that! You need to go get your trophy, or else you might end up starting something you can't stop!" you teased, giving him a gentle push away.

The playful banter was a familiar rhythm between you, a dance of flirtation that always left you both wanting more.

Max chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he took a step back, clearly reluctant to leave the moment behind.

"See you after, schatje!" he called out, a wide grin spreading across his face as he made his way to the door. The way he said your name sent a thrill through you, and you couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement at the thought of what was to come.

As he opened the door, you watched him go, your heart still racing from the kiss.

You knew that this was just the beginning of an adventure that would unfold in the hours to come, filled with laughter, challenges, and perhaps even more stolen moments like the one you just shared. . . .

726 notes · View notes

mythicalmaven · 2 months ago

Note

smut 18 with max please

Burning Rivalry - Max Verstappen

This was my first time writing for Max Verstappen, so please let me know in the comments if i wrote it a okay or not :) Really wanna know if I failed miserably on this one or not lol hahah

Masterlist ↳pairing: max verstappen x female!driver!reader ↳word count: 2.2K ↳prompts used: 18 - "fucking hell, if I knew you were this good, I would have gotten you on your knees earlier" ↳summary: When the tension between you and Max finally gets resolved after a heated and competitive Grand Prix

↳content warnings: rivals to lovers, first kiss, smut, 18+ (MDNI!), explicit sexual content, blowjob, oral sex f!receiving, sassy talk between the two of them lol, slight begging (nothing much tho), a small hint of dom!max (but also not really), sexual tension

The tension between you and Max had always been palpable, but it wasn’t just because you were two of the best racing drivers on the grid. It was the rivalry that simmered beneath the surface, the unspoken competition that pushed both of you to your limits every time you got behind the wheel. You weren’t just friends—you were rivals, constantly trying to outdo each other on the track, and the fire that rivalry stoked didn’t stop when the race was over.

You had known Max for years, your careers growing alongside each other, and though there was a mutual respect, there was also a constant challenge, a need to prove who was better. It led to banter, to teasing comments, and sometimes, to something darker, more intense—like tonight.

The race had been brutal, both of you fighting tooth and nail for the podium. Max had edged you out in the final laps, taking the victory by a hair, and though you congratulated him afterward, there was a spark in your eyes that told him the rivalry was far from over.

But now, as you stood in Max’s driver’s room after the race, that competitive fire had taken on a new form. The air was thick with unspoken tension, the kind that made your skin tingle and your pulse race. Max was leaning against the couch, his racing suit half unzipped, revealing the sweat-slicked skin underneath. His eyes were dark, filled with something that made your breath catch in your throat.

“You drove like shit today,” you teased, a smirk tugging at your lips as you met his gaze, challenging him.

Max raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk of his own. “Is that why I’m the one holding the trophy?” he shot back, his tone dripping with smug satisfaction.

You rolled your eyes, stepping closer, your heart pounding in your chest. “Just barely. You know I’ll get you next time.”

“Is that a promise?” Max asked, his voice low and filled with a teasing edge that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Maybe,” you replied, your voice laced with challenge. The banter, the back-and-forth, was like foreplay, each word stoking the fire that burned between you.

Max’s smirk widened, his eyes darkening with intent as he pushed off the couch and closed the distance between you in a few quick strides. He was in your space now, his body so close you could feel the heat radiating off him, his scent—a mixture of sweat and something uniquely him—invading your senses.

“I think you like losing to me,” Max murmured, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from your face. The touch was gentle, but there was an undercurrent of something more, something that made your breath hitch.

“In your dreams,” you shot back, but the words were softer now, your bravado faltering under the intensity of his gaze.

Max’s hand slipped to the back of your neck, his grip firm as he pulled you closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. “How about I make you a deal?” he whispered, his voice rough and commanding. “You get on your knees for me, and maybe I’ll let you win next time.”

The words sent a jolt of arousal through you, your heart skipping a beat at the sheer audacity of his proposition. But you weren’t about to let him have the upper hand so easily. “Make me,” you challenged, your voice steady despite the racing of your pulse.

Max’s eyes flashed with something dangerous, something that made your knees weak. His grip tightened on your neck, his other hand coming up to cup your jaw, tilting your head back so you were forced to look up at him.

“Oh, I will,” Max promised, his voice low and filled with dark intent.

Before you could respond, Max’s lips crashed against yours in a kiss that was hard, demanding, and full of the fiery passion that always seemed to ignite between the two of you. His hands were on you, pulling you closer, holding you tight as his mouth claimed yours with a dominance that made your heart race.

You kissed him back just as fiercely, your hands tangling in his hair as you pressed your body against his, needing more, needing everything he was offering. The rivalry, the tension, the years of unspoken desire—it all culminated in this moment, in the heat of his body against yours, in the way his lips moved over yours with a hunger that matched your own.

Max’s hands moved to your hips, gripping you firmly as he guided you backward, pressing you against the wall. His lips trailed down your neck, sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin there, leaving marks that you knew would linger long after tonight.

“You drive me fucking insane,” Max muttered against your skin, his voice rough with need as his hands slipped under your shirt, pushing it up and over your head.

“Good,” you shot back, your voice breathless as you helped him strip you of your clothing, leaving you exposed to his hungry gaze. “Maybe now you know how I feel.”

Max’s eyes darkened with desire as he looked at you, his hands tracing the curves of your body, making you shiver under his touch. “On your knees,” he commanded, his voice rough and filled with authority.

But you weren’t about to give in that easily. “Make me,” you repeated, your eyes locking with his, challenging him to take what he wanted.

Max’s lips curled into a smirk, his eyes flashing with a mixture of amusement and arousal. “You’re going to regret that,” he warned, his hands tightening on your hips as he pulled you closer.

“Try me,” you shot back, your voice steady despite the rapid beating of your heart.

Max didn’t need any more encouragement. He pushed you down onto the couch, his body pressing against yours as he kissed you again, his hands sliding down your body, touching, caressing, teasing. You could feel the heat of his arousal against your thigh, the hardness of him making your own desire flare even hotter.

His hands found your thighs, spreading them apart as he knelt between them, his eyes locked on yours as he leaned in, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. “You’re going to beg for me,” Max promised, his voice low and filled with dark intent.

You shivered at his words, your breath hitching as his mouth moved higher, teasing you with soft, feather-light kisses that made your body tremble with anticipation. You tried to hold on to your bravado, but the way he was touching you, the way his tongue flicked against your skin, was making it impossible to think, let alone resist.

Max’s hand slipped between your legs, his fingers brushing against your wetness, making you gasp. He smirked at your reaction, his eyes darkening with satisfaction as he continued to tease you, his touch light, almost maddeningly so.

“Fuck, you’re already so wet for me,” Max murmured, his voice rough with desire as he pressed a finger inside you, making you moan at the sensation.

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the sounds that threatened to escape, but Max wasn’t having it. He added another finger, curling them inside you, his thumb brushing against your clit in a way that made you see stars.

“Let me hear you,” Max demanded, his voice a low growl as he worked you with expert precision, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

You couldn’t hold back the moan that escaped your lips, your body arching into his touch as the pleasure built inside you, coiling tighter and tighter until you were trembling with need.

“Max, please,” you gasped, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Max’s eyes gleamed with triumph, his fingers moving faster, his thumb pressing harder against your clit as he pushed you to the brink. “That’s it,” Max encouraged, his voice rough with satisfaction. “Let go for me.”

And you did, your body convulsing with pleasure as you came apart in his hands, your moans filling the room as the orgasm crashed over you, wave after wave of intense sensation leaving you trembling and breathless.

When you finally came down from the high, Max was there, his lips on yours, kissing you deeply, passionately, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his own dark with desire.

“Now, on your knees,” Max commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument.

This time, you didn’t hesitate. You slid off the couch, dropping to your knees in front of him, your hands reaching out to free him from the confines of his racing suit. Max’s breath hitched as you took him in your hands, your touch sending a shiver of pleasure through him.

You looked up at him, meeting his gaze as you leaned in, your lips brushing against the tip of his cock in a soft, teasing kiss that made him groan with need. “You’re going to love this,” you promised, your voice a low, sultry whisper.

Max’s hand tangled in your hair, his eyes dark with anticipation as he watched you. “Show me,” he growled, his voice rough with desire.

You didn’t need any more encouragement. You took him into your mouth, your lips closing around him as you began to suck, your tongue swirling around the head of his cock, teasing him, driving him insane with every flick, every stroke.

Max’s grip on your hair tightened, his hips thrusting forward as he fucked your mouth, the pleasure building inside him with every movement.

“Fucking hell,” Max groaned, his voice a low rumble that sent a thrill of satisfaction through you. “If I knew you were this good, I would have gotten you on your knees earlier.”

The words only spurred you on, fueling the fire of desire burning inside you. You took him deeper, hollowing your cheeks as you sucked harder, your tongue continuing its relentless assault on him. The sounds he made—those low, guttural moans—only made you want to give him more, to push him further toward the edge.

Max’s hips began to move more urgently, his hand guiding your head as he thrust into your mouth, the rhythm becoming more erratic as he lost himself in the pleasure you were giving him. You could feel him throbbing against your tongue, the tension coiling tighter and tighter in his body as he neared his climax.

You moaned around him, the vibrations making him shudder, his grip on your hair tightening as he fought to hold on. But you could tell he was close, his breaths coming in ragged gasps, his muscles tensing as he teetered on the brink.

“Fuck, I’m gonna—” Max’s words broke off in a strangled moan as his orgasm overtook him. His hips jerked forward, and you felt the first hot spurt hit the back of your throat. You didn’t slow down, working him through his release, swallowing every drop as he came, your tongue still swirling around him, milking every last bit of pleasure from his body.

Max’s grip on your hair loosened as the last waves of his climax washed over him, leaving him trembling and breathless. You pulled back slowly, your lips lingering on him for just a moment longer before releasing him, your eyes flicking up to meet his.

Max’s chest was heaving, his eyes dark and hooded as he looked down at you, his expression one of pure satisfaction mixed with something deeper, something almost primal. He reached down, his hand cupping your chin, lifting your face so that you were forced to look up at him.

“You’re incredible,” Max said, his voice rough and still thick with the aftereffects of his orgasm. There was a softness in his eyes now, a tenderness that made your heart skip a beat.

You smiled up at him, feeling a rush of pride at his words, your body still buzzing with the aftermath of what had just happened. “Glad you think so,” you replied, your voice laced with satisfaction and a hint of teasing.

Max chuckled, the sound low and warm as he pulled you up to your feet. His hands settled on your hips, pulling you close until your bodies were pressed together again. He leaned in, capturing your lips in a slow, deliberate kiss that was all about savoring the moment, the heat of the earlier intensity giving way to something more intimate.

When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the quiet of the room. “We should do this again,” Max murmured, his voice soft but full of promise.

“Only if you let me win next time,” you teased, your lips curving into a playful smile as you looked up at him.

Max’s eyes sparkled with amusement, a smirk tugging at his lips. “We’ll see about that,” he said, his tone light but with an underlying seriousness that made your heart flutter.

As you both stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the rivalry between you didn’t seem to matter anymore. There was something more now, something that went beyond the track, beyond the competition. And as you leaned into his embrace, you couldn’t help but think that whatever happened next, it was only the beginning of something much bigger, something that neither of you could walk away from.

Masterlist

475 notes · View notes

coff33andb00ks · 5 months ago

Text

Rule Breaker - Pt 2

max verstappen x single mom!reader

{prev} {next}

warnings: cursing, reader y/nsplains, jos is an asshole, fluff, barely proofread, logan tries to flirt, y/n's bestie is a tumblr girlie at heart, kiddo steals the show Summary: Max has it all...right? Besides, he's too busy collecting trophies and completing side quests for anything else. Until... You moved across a whole ass ocean to start over, uprooting you and your son's lives to become social media admin for cars that drive in circles. word count: 6833 auth.note: thank you all so much for the love for part 1!!! ily all and i'm having so much fun writing this

The paddock was relatively quiet so early in the morning. Unable to sleep, y/n had left the hotel and made her way to the track. She was taking the opportunity to explore the settings on the camera and getting her bearings since she didn't have any work duties to complete until later in the day. She had expected Kevin to want to come with her, but he'd opted to sleep in with Ellie, who would bring him to the track later. So she wandered, exchanging the occasional greeting with others. Stopping to take a photo of a bird perched on the fence in front of pit lane, she backed up, crashing into someone.

"Whoop, s'cuse me, sorry," she said, turning to apologize properly. She recognized the two men by their faces but her mind blanked on their names.

"It's alright, ma'am. Didn't mess up your shot, did we?" His American accent was a happy surprise.

"I don't think so." Smiling, y/n lowered the camera. "My fault, and I'll blame it on being new."

"Marketing?" The other man guessed.

Australian. And suddenly she remembered their names. "Social media. I'm y/n."

"So great to meet you." Logan tipped his head slightly. "Carolina?"

"God, you can take the hick outta Carolina, but you can't take the Carolina outta the hick." He grinned and she laughed. "North Carolina, yeah."

Oscar stared at Logan. "How did you guess that? She just sounds plain American?"

"No, dude, it's the lilt. It's like when George got pissed we couldn't pick up on the different English accents."

"Can he pick up on the different American south accents?" y/n asked.

Logan rolled his eyes. "He knows Brooklyn, Midwest, valley girl, and just south."

"In his defense it's hard to pick out each individual one," Oscar pointed out.

Y/n shrugged. "You've got a point. I sound different from people that grew up just an hour from me."

"Yeah! And I know mine's been butchered from so much time in Europe." Logan nodded.

"You still sound more like home than anyone else I've met."

"I was gonna say the same thing – you sound like home." He smiled, a soft, genuine smile that had her smiling in return.

"And what do I sound like?" Oscar asked with a grin.

"A magical place far, far away," y/n told him. She covertly checked the time and wondered if hospitality had finished setting up so she could get some coffee.

"Hear that? I sound like Star Wars."

"She's using southern charm on you, dude," Logan snorted.

"Well it's working, I'm charmed."

A giggle bubbled up her throat and she let it free, raising her camera and giving them a hopeful look. "Okay?"

"Hang on—" Logan fussed with his hair, and y/n laughed when Oscar reached to help him, then they both had to fuss with Oscar's hair. "Think we're presentable enough?"

She nodded, moving so the sunlight was beside them. She got several photos and thanked them. "I'll send them to y'alls social media teams?"

"You can just send it to me." Logan began patting his pockets for his phone.

"Unbelievable," Oscar muttered under his breath, and y/n barely heard it, giving Logan her number and adding him to her contacts once he'd sent her a text.

"I should get going – Sorry for bumping into you."

"Don't apologize, I'm glad you did."

As she walked away she gave her head a little shake, smiling to herself when she overheard Oscar's grumbling that Logan had flirted with fuckin' Red Bull's social media admin. Something told her to glance back and she did, amused to see Logan watching her. Don't show interest, don't show interest, don't—

He gave a little wave. And she smiled, waving back.

Fuck.

Ducking around the corner, she wandered until she found hospitality, grogginess taking over as she made her way to the back to fix herself coffee. She recognized a couple engineers and mechanics that she'd met in Milton Keyes and greeted them, settling into a corner to drink and look over the pictures she'd gotten.

She was on her second coffee, had uploaded the pictures to her laptop, and was editing the first batch for a short video when the chair across from her was pulled out, taking her shoe with it.

"Sorry," Max said when she yelped, chuckling as he bent to pick up her shoe. "Didn't know you were attached."

"Bad habit I'm afraid." Taking the shoe, she shifted to put it back on. "Picked it up when I was pregnant now I do it without thinking."

"For the swelling?" he asked, sitting down and taking a sip of his coffee.

"Yeah." After tying the shoelace she shifted, tucking one foot beneath her. "Good morning, by the way."

"Morning. Already working?"

"I'm gonna do a short photo tour of the track. I got some nice shots."

"You walked the track?"

"I woke up and couldn't go back to sleep, so… It's beautiful first thing in the morning."

Max nodded, picking up his coffee again. "Why couldn't you sleep?"

"Max, you should know that hotel beds suck. Especially with a three year old sleeping sideways and a snoring friend in the other bed. Is this where you tell me you slept great?"

"Haha, no. My sleep was shit but it wasn't because of the bed. I didn't get enough." He rubbed a hand over his face. "I was up late sim racing."

"Okay, explain sim racing to me," she requested, slipping one earbud in so she could check that the music she'd selected went well with the photos. Tweaking it as he began to talk, she realized she was barely paying attention to her work, exporting and posting the video to all the platforms then closing her laptop to focus on him. He talked with his hands. It was something she'd picked up on already, that if he was focused on the topic he used his hands. Maxplaining the fans called it. Finishing her coffee, she listened intently, propping her chin on one hand.

He smiled, almost shyly, as he finished. "It's something I truly enjoy. I'm not very sociable. I like going out once in a while, but I prefer to stay in, yeah? And I can spend hours in the sim without thinking twice."

"I spent the last few days watching a lot of interviews. Not just of you and Checo, but everyone on the grid," y/n said softly. "Leclerc talks about piano and his family, Norris talks about gaming and DJing, and Hamilton has his six hundred side projects."

"Yes?" He didn't look or sound impatient for her to get to the point, and she appreciated that.

"The thing is, they all have passions outside of racing. This – formula one, fastest cars, all that – is a goal, a dream, but they all have something else they love, that they can pursue now." She paused, meeting his eyes. "The only thing I've seen you passionate about is racing."

He blinked once, nodding his head. "Because it is my passion."

Y/n regarded him carefully for a moment. "You're very lucky, Max."

That must have surprised him, because his brow furrowed. "Why do you say that?"

"Not everyone is able to be successful following their passion. Being able to do what you love for both a job and hobbies is almost unheard of, yet you're doing it. You break records and win races and yeah you've had a few setbacks but you're still in love with this. And on your off time you're training to be better and studying tracks and you go home and race on your computer." She shook her head in amazement. "You're incredibly lucky, that your passion is not only something you're good at but something you can be immersed in nonstop, and that you haven't lost your love for it."

"I guess I am lucky," he said carefully. "But luck had nothing to do with me getting into formula one."

"I know." She held up her hands, not wanting him to think she thought he was in the position he was purely by chance. "I can't imagine how much work you've done over the years, or how many sacrifices you've had to make. It's just… In my experience, passion doesn't always equal financial stability is what I'm trying to say."

"What's that saying? Do something you love and you never work a day in your life?"

Y/n snorted. "That's bullshit. I love sleeping and yet I still have to work."

That made him laugh and she rolled her eyes, even though she enjoyed the sound. "Surely you love more than sleep."

"I love a lot of things. Maybe that's been my problem all my life. I find things and fall in love with them and when I think hey this might be it something new and shiny comes along and I fall in love with that."

"There's nothing wrong with being passionate about many things," Max said gently.

"That's what I keep telling myself. And yet—"

"Are you saying you don't love your job?"

She froze, a wave of panic rippling through her. "Uhmm… Since it's technically my first day I can't answer that."

"Okay. Do you love your social media?" he asked, leaning forward and resting his arms on the table.

The table which was, suddenly, smaller than she remembered.

"I like engaging others. I like creating conversations and seeing my work appreciated," she finally said.

"You sound like a PR person. Do you love it?" He enunciated each word slowly.

She couldn't say yes. The answer wasn't no, either, because she didn't hate it. "I personally hate it. But you've learned how to make it work for you, yeah? How to word things to spark a conversation among followers? What type of content people appreciate?"

"I like to think so."

"Stop being so unsure of yourself. You study it, right? At your last job when you posted a video and no one liked it what did you do? "

She exhaled harshly. "I compare it to ones that did well and pick it apart to see why it didn't work."

"Why?"

"Why?" she echoed.

"Why did you pick it apart?"

"Because I wanted it to do well," she said slowly.

"And these conversations you want to create, do you join in or sit and watch them happen behind the safety of your screen?" He reached over, gently turning her laptop so he could see the screen.

"I engage. I reply and ask questions to make the viewers want to keep the conversation going."

"Why?"

"Because—" She clicked the mouse, bringing up the comments below the video she'd posted to Instagram. "These comments? Come from people that love this brand – or sport. Some of them are trolls who just want to start up an argument to make their boring lives more interesting for a few minutes, but for the most part it's people who care. People who want to see this team do well. People who had the dream of doing it themselves but life got in the way. People who watched it with their parents and still watch to stay connected to someone they love. It's little kids who want to be like you. It's people who spend their hard earned money on a t-shirt or a hat or a ticket to see someone they admire live out their dream." She took a quick breath, scrolling through the comments. "If I don't like or respond to them, they feel like their opinions don't matter. And maybe they don't in the grand scheme of formula one. But they want to be seen and heard. When I click and they see that Red Bull Racing liked their comment or replied with an emoji or whatever, they have a few seconds of elation, and their support of this team is cemented just a bit more."

Max blinked at her, and she continued even though she heard him draw a breath to speak.

"I know very well how horrible social media can be. However, I've seen how it fosters growth for a company. You're not stupid, I'm sure you've seen how TikTok challenges or Instagram livestreams have brought in more support. Not to mention money. If a post of you wearing your Red Bull shirt gets a million likes, I can probably pull the data and show you that a hundred thousand people went to view the shirt on the official shop and probably twenty-five thousand ordered one. A silly picture of you arriving for race day or a new helmet design pulls people in and gets them excited. And, yes, it makes money. Which in turn pays the salaries of everyone on the team."

"Y/n."

She sucked in a breath. "I'm—"

"Passionate," he whispered before she could say sorry.

"I know what it's like to enjoy something and never feel included," she murmured. "So, yeah… I guess I love what I do, because I like that I can include people in something they love."

His hand covered hers briefly. "For a moment there, I even loved social media."

She watched his fingers squeeze hers before they slid away, wondering why his touch lingered. "Yeah?"

"It's easy to forget that there are real people saying nice things. Sometimes all you can see is the negativity."

"Negativity only breeds more negativity—"

"And when you look at it, it's all you'll see," he murmured.

"Well… So far everything I've posted today has been met with positivity."

"That's good."

"Okay, a few comments about wanting to see Lando on the podium. Thank you for letting me rant about why I do what I do," she said, glancing at his hand without meaning to.

"You let me do the same," he reminded her. Lifting his chin, he waited until she looked at him again. "Are you too busy to see what I was talking about?"

"I don't have anything scheduled until after lunch."

"Perfect." He lightly drummed on the table and stood. "Do you want to see my rig?"

"You do know I won't have a clue what anything but the computer and monitor are, right?" Smiling, she stood and began packing away her stuff.

Closing her laptop, he handed it over, catching her earbud when it fell off the edge of the table. "Maybe you'll like it so much you'll want one of your own."

*-*

He was rambling, he knew he was, telling her about the setup and his plan for the 24 hour race over the weekend and how he had everything scheduled so he could do two of the things he loved most. But he could tell she was paying attention, actually listening, as if she really cared. Rubbing his palms against his thighs, he finished and looked up at her.

"So this is your actual job and the f1 thing is just a hobby?" she teased.

Laughing, he got to his feet and got himself a can of Red Bull. "It's just racing, y/n."

"And racing is life."

"Absolutely." He watched her muffle a yawn behind her hand.

"Am I allowed to mention it in my posts? Because it sounds so badass. Sim race stint then qualifying, chug a Red Bull, sim race stint then race."

"You can mention it, not like it's a secret." He watched her hide another yawn and cleared his throat. "Looks like you need a Red Bull."

She shook her head. "Can I tell you a secret?"

Nodding, he checked the time. Just over an hour before he had to meet with his trainer. "Of course."

"I hate Red Bull," she whispered.

He choked on a laugh. "You what?"

"I've tried so many times! I can just about stomach one of the flavored editions, but the original? Tastes like battery acid to me." She looked embarrassed and covered her face with her hands. "Please don't tell anyone."

"You hate the drink. So you accepted a job with a team owned by the drink company." He wanted to laugh. It was so absurd to him.

"Yes," she groaned.

"That would be like me taking a job at Instagram."

"I know it's so bad. What makes it worse is I love Monster—"

"Of course you do," he said with a roll of his eyes.

"Please say you won't tell anyone. If corporate hears, I'll probably get fired. It's in my contract that I can only drink that while in pubic during race weekends which means I've got to either stick to water or learn to fake it."

"Your secret's safe with me," Max promised, breathing in the aroma of her perfume as she moved past him to get her bag.

"Thank you. I think Ellie would kill me if I told her I have to find a new job."

He didn't want her to go so soon. Ridiculous because he knew he'd see her in just a few hours. By the end of the weekend he'd be sick of seeing her. Sipping his drink, he finally sighed and cleared his throat. "You can take a power nap."

She whipped her head around, sending a wave of her perfume his way. "What?"

"A power nap." Before he could stop himself he was setting down his drink and taking her bag off her shoulder. "Thirty minutes, and you'll feel great."

"Max—"

"You need to be alert and focused, and I don't have a Monster for you to drink. Please, I insist." He motioned to his bed in the far corner, gently nudging her shoulder when she hesitated.

"You're sure?" she asked softly, and when he assured her he was she bent to take off her shoes, looking almost elated as she walked over to the bed. "Wait, I need to set an alarm."

"I'll wake you."

She lifted an eyebrow and he pulled out his phone to set a thirty minute timer. Satisfied, she sat on the edge of the bed, thanking him several times as she laid down and curled up on her side. "Thirty minutes."

"Thirty minutes," he murmured, sitting on the couch to answer emails. It was fifteen minutes before she stopped shifting and kicking, and when he heard her breathing even out he knew she was asleep. Resetting the timer, he stood and carefully pulled the blanket over her, then returned to the couch and tried his best to ignore that she was sleeping in his room.

Her phone started buzzing on the table. She didn't stir so he ignored it, focusing on his email. That was impossible though so he cleared out his unread texts, one foot bouncing each time he heard her breathe. A mistake. It had been a mistake. He jumped up when her phone began to buzz again and, glancing from it to her, he realized she would undoubtedly sleep through it. He picked it up and was about to silence it when he saw the name on the screen. Ellie. That was her friend that was helping with Kevin… Something could be wrong, so he answered the call and lifted the phone to his ear. "Hello?"

"Hey, we just— Who's this?"

"Max. This is Ellie?"

"…Yes…" The woman sounded wary. "Why are you – Oh! Max! Right of course. Um, is y/n okay?"

Max looked over at her, smiling faintly when she shifted. "She's fine. Taking a nap, actually."

Ellie snorted. "Of course she is."

"Is everything okay with Kevin?"

As though aware of the question, Kevin began chattering in the background. "Yeah, he's perfect. I was calling to let her know we just got here but I ain't got a clue where to go."

"Are you at the main entrance?" he asked, slipping out of the room so he wouldn't wake y/n. Ellie told him where they were and he nodded as he pulled out his own phone to text one of the team assistants. "You're going to walk down to the turnstiles, scan your passes and come through. Someone will be there to meet you and bring you to the motorhome."

"Ok perfect. Thank you so much."

"You're welcome. We'll be downstairs to meet you." Ending the call, he checked that the assistant was going to meet them then reentered his room. He closed the door and silenced his timer. "Y/n?"

She hummed in her sleep, and he smiled while he crossed over to the bed.

"Y/n," he called gently. She groaned, shifting to face away from him and it suddenly occurred to him that when he went to bed that night he would smell her on the pillow and the sheets. Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea, but it was too late now.

Would he be an asshole if he had his sheets changed before the end of the day?

Leaning down, he gently touched her shoulder. She inhaled sharply and he saw her eyes snap open. "You have company on its way," he said softly, tugging the covers back in case she tried to get comfortable again. His eyes swept down, locking on the skin bared by her shirt, which had ridden up in her sleep. "Come on, you had a nice nap, time to wake up."

"This bed is so much more comfortable than the one at the hotel," she mumbled, slowly sitting up and turning to face him. Smoothing down her shirt, she stretched and sighed, blinking as she focused on him. "Oh! Ellie and Kevin!"

He laughed as she leapt to her feet, his hands immediately moving to steady her. "It's fine, they haven't even made it to the paddock yet. I've sent someone to meet them."

"Oh," she murmured. "Thank you."

His hands were on her hips, and he forced his breathing to remain calm as she rested her hands on his forearms. The space, which had felt roomy and open, now felt tiny with how close she was to him. He was painfully aware of the scant space between them and each place their bodies touched, but more so of her. That heady floral scent of her perfume and the softness of her palms against his skin. The gentle lushness of her hips. He could hear every breath as his gaze traveled up from her hands to her face, lingering on her slightly parted lips before settling on her eyes. "You good?"

"Yep."

"Right. Sorry," he mumbled, releasing her hips and taking a step back. "I'll get your shoes."

What was wrong with him? It hadn't been so long that he got turned on like a teenager just from touching a woman… As he bent to retrieve her shoes he counted back, dragging a hand over his face in humiliation. What must she think of him? He'd brought her to his room, showed off his fancy toys, then let her sleep in his bed. She probably thought he wanted to fuck her—

You do.

—which couldn't be further from the truth. He was just being nice. Because she was nice. That was all.

Wasn't it?

And why, he wondered as he handed her shoes to her and told her about answering Ellie's call, did he care what she thought? Not caring was his specialty.

"How do you feel?" he asked, finishing his drink in one gulp.

"Refreshed. Thank you so much, Max." She tied her shoes and ran her fingers through her hair. Her lips moved but he didn't hear a word she said, watching her gather her hair and twist and twirl it, securing it with a band from her wrist.

Witchcraft.

"That okay with you?" she asked, slipping her phone into her pocket.

"Of course," he answered automatically.

She clapped her hands together. "Great! I'll put up a post asking for fan questions."

Max blinked, pinching his brows together. "Fan questions."

"Well we can't do an impromptu Q and A without questions." She had her other phone out now, fingers flying across the screen. "We'll do it this afternoon? Just let me know the best time."

Fuck's sake. What had he agreed to? More importantly, how had she gotten him to say yes? Everyone knew he had a low tolerance for marketing. He could take it back and say no, he couldn't do it today. He could tell her to get Checo to do it, that he would do it another time. He'd gotten out of marketing and social media stupidity without a problem plenty of times before. But he was already opening his calendar, going over his schedule, already telling her the open slot he had at 5, and was already putting Q and A with Y/n in that space.

"Perfect," she enthused, shouldering her bag and heading for the door, her fingers still tapping swiftly on the screen. "They should be here about now, right?"

Nodding, he followed her out the room and down, smiling when Kevin came through the front door with a woman he assumed was Ellie. The boy dropped her hand and sprinted over to y/n, who dropped down to hug him tightly. Max looked on, chest squeezing, searching for something that had been lacking, as mother and son talked and hugged, their words overlapping. They both understood each other perfectly, though, and he smiled at Kevin's excited retelling of what he'd had for breakfast. Introducing himself to Ellie, he reached to shake her hand.

"Mister Max!" The boy squealed.

"Kevin!" He was down in a split second, Ellie forgotten and chest constricting tighter as Kevin hugged him like a long lost friend.

"I saw two cats and a horse!" Kevin tugged at his shirt, grinning as he showed off his Red Bull merch.

"You did? What kind of cats?" he asked, taking the boy's cap and beginning to roll the brim for him while the boy described the cats and then the horse. Returning the cap, he enthused over animals, telling him about his own two cats and pulling out his phone to show him a few pictures.

"I miss Cotton," Kevin said with a small pout.

"Is that your cat?" Max saw his trainer approaching and gave him a quick nod.

"Yeah. We can't bring him to Eng-a-lund so Aunt Ellie's sister has him." Kevin's pout melted into a faint smile. "But she sends lots of pictures!"

"That's good. And maybe you'll be able to get him soon."

"Mama says it's s'pensive." The boy sighed as though he had to earn the money to bring his beloved cat to England.

"I know," Max sympathized. "Go with your mum, yeah? I've got to go train."

Kevin's face puckered in confusion. "Train? Like Shang?"

Y/n cleared her throat. "We watched Mulan on the flight last night."

"What did Shang do?" Max vaguely remembered the movie, but it had been years since he'd seen it.

"He made a man out of 'em."

"Okay, doodle bug, we have to let Max get his workout in," y/n said, flashing Max a smile. "If you ask another question he'll start singing the song."

Max stared at her then turned his attention back to Kevin. "What song?"

Because he had to. Because hearing her groan as her son began singing a song about being a man was priceless. And the dramatic way she hung her head when Ellie joined in made him laugh. Kevin giggled, cutting off his singing and looking at Max hopefully. "Will you watch it with me?"

"I—"

"Mister Max is too busy to watch a movie," y/n cut in.

"We'll watch it this weekend," Max promised, hating the sadness in the boy's eyes. Relieved when it disappeared in a flash, he gave him a high five and stood.

"Yay!"

He exchanged a look with y/n, who sighed and nodded, reaching for Kevin's hand. "I'll see you later," he said.

"5 o'clock," she reminded him as he headed out.

*-*

"So…"

Y/n groaned at Ellie's knowing tone. Watching as Kevin was snatched up by Lando so he wasn't crashed into by Charles in the impromptu game of football, she folded her arms over her chest. "So?"

"He had coffee with you."

God, here we go.

"Showed you his private room and his expensive computer setup… Let you take a nap in his bed—"

"He's just being nice," y/n insisted.

"And he's gonna take time out of his ridiculously busy weekend to watch a movie with Kevin." Ellie hummed, taking a sip of her tea.

Ignoring her, y/n looked on as Lando, Oscar, and Logan pretended to fight back the others while Kevin kicked the ball towards the goal. They were all shouting, dramatic and over the top, and above it all she heard the sweetest sound of her son's laughter. When the ball rolled into the net there was a roar that rivaled a championship game, and she joined in the cheering and applauding.

"You could do worse," Ellie murmured.

"Would you stop?" Y/n rolled her eyes, giving Logan a thumbs up when he gestured to the football and Kevin, understanding they wanted to have another quick game.

"He's cute."

"They all are," y/n muttered without thinking, lifting her camera for a few photos for her personal collection. Recognizing Checo when he suddenly appeared in the viewfinder, she snapped more photos, lowering the camera to watch.

"You know—"

"I can't wait for you to start your job so I can come and try to partner you up with a coworker," she huffed, snorting when Ellie gasped.

"You wouldn't."

"In a heartbeat."

"Besides, there's only one person in that group that's technically your coworker," Ellie said.

"I'm not here for that."

"I know." Ellie leaned against her briefly. "Wouldn't be me if I didn't encourage a delusion, though."

"Yeah…" Y/n laughed softly. "It's my first day, of course everyone's already in love with me."

"Exactly."

It was what she loved about Ellie. No matter what, she could make her laugh. Grinning, she watched Kevin bump into Oscar, who immediately collapsed with an exaggerated howl of pain, holding the leg that Kevin hadn't touched. "And they're all so good with kids."

"Total dad material, every one of them," Ellie agreed. "Not a stepdad, a dad who stepped up."

She choked on a laugh, playfully swatting her friend's arm. Because she knew Logan had overheard them. "Stop—"

"And probably more than willing to crack your back—"

"Oh my god." Clapping a hand over her face, she sensed someone approaching. "I have to work with these people."

"Only until they fuck a baby into you."

"Hey, y/n, your kid's so cool," Logan said.

Her face burned but she slowly pulled her hand away, giving him a weak smile. "Thanks."

He propped his hands on his waist, breathing heavy as he watched Kevin dart between Lando, Oscar, Checo, and Alex. "He always this energetic?"

"Fify-fifty. He's either like this or so quiet I worry he's up to something."

Logan chuckled. "Is he a troublemaker?"

"Nah, if he's quiet it's because he's focused on his cars or studying a bug."

"Christ! Get it away from me!"

Y/n's heart lurched at the sudden shriek from Lando, and she barely saw him sprinting away from her son, who was holding something in his hands.

"It's a frog, mate!" Oscar shouted behind him.

"Don't care!"

Kevin slowly walked over to y/n. "Mama, look!" he said, eyes shining with excitement. His cheeks were a little flushed from the hard play and he was giggling. "Mister Lando scared of a l'il frog."

"He's just not a country boy like you, honey," she soothed. "But maybe we should put the frog somewhere he'll be safe?"

"C'mon, Kev, I'll help you," Logan offered.

"Hmm," Ellie hummed once Logan had scooped Kevin up, cupping one hand over the boy's to keep the frog from jumping away.

"Shut it."

"I didn't say a word."

"Please, that hmm contained at least two paragraphs, ten innuendoes, and a pointed reference," y/n said, trailing behind Logan. Looking on as he set Kevin down near the tree line, she got a few pictures of them releasing the frog. She cringed when her son wiped his dirty hands on his shorts but Logan didn't seem to mind, lifting him up and carrying him back to her.

"He's free!" Kevin squealed. "Thanks, Mister Logan."

"Anytime, Kev." He tousled his curly hair after setting him down, flashing a shy smile at y/n.

She returned the smile, eyes following Kevin as he ran back to the game. "He's gonna pass out as soon as we get back to the hotel."

"He could probably run circles around all of us all night," Logan chuckled.

"True…"

"So like…" He cleared his throat. "Are you married?"

God, she loved Floridians. "No," she answered, turning to look at him. "Are you?"

"God no." He made a face at the thought. "So you're single?"

She nodded, already formulating how she would turn him down if he asked her out. She was too busy. Not interested in anything romantic at the moment. It never hurt to be honest, right? She couldn't lie and say she just had a messy breakup or—

"Would you be interested in – I'm not trying to hook up or anything," he said quickly when she opened her mouth. "Just, like, as a friend? I know how it is to feel like a fish out of water here. I'm kind of used to it but I can remember feeling like I was alone and surrounded by people who didn't understand my Americanisms."

"Oh." Aw. Damn it, she couldn't say no to that. "I… Yeah, sure, I'd like that."

He smiled. "Awesome. Maybe we can do something tomorrow after practice?" he suggested.

"Sure, sounds great. Text me?" she requested. Her phone alarm started going off and she pulled it out to silence it. "I gotta go. I'll see you later."

She waved to Ellie and mimed that she had to get some work done, waiting for her friend to wave back before making her way to the garage. While walking she got a message from one of the mechanics that the cars were photo ready and quickened her pace, envisioning the photos she would get of the mechanics and engineers. As she worked she asked questions, truly interested in what everyone did, a small idea forming that she'd run by Mr. Horner later. She knew that she would enjoy mini profiles on the team, with just the most basic of information like their names and where they were from. Maybe how long they'd been on the team, what had brought them to formula one…

"Thanks so much guys," she said as she finished up, declining the offer of a cold Red Bull. Her alarm went off again – twenty minutes to get ready to meet Max in the lounge back at the motorhome – and she switched off the camera, waving bye and turning to leave the garage.

She slammed into a human wall, grunting in surprise as she stumbled back. Twice in one day, really? The bump had caused the camera to slam against her ribs and she rubbed the spot gently. "I'm sorry! Wasn't looking where I was going."

She expected a chuckle, a reassurance that it was a hazard of the job. Maybe even an apology in return. Instead, the older man sneered at her, looking her up and down in such a way she felt like a child caught misbehaving. "You need to learn your place."

She gulped, fear prickling through her embarrassment. And even though she knew she hadn't done anything wrong, she found her mouth opening to apologize. "S-sorry."

"Horner know better than to hire amateurs," he muttered, scoffing. "He obviously didn't hire you for your looks."

She bristled at that. "I beg your pardon?"

"As you should." He brushed past her.

She felt weak. Clammy and cold. Shuddering slightly, she swallowed hard and left the garage, heading straight for the motorhome, where she was able to catch her breath. Who the hell had that been? He'd been wearing a Red Bull pass, so he had to be on the team. He was obviously important. She couldn't imagine him being considered her boss, not when everyone else had been so nice and—

"Ah, y/n, are you ready to do the Q and A?" Max asked.

Y/n felt her lungs burn and sucked in a breath, staring at the cup of coffee she'd made herself. "Y-yeah, I'll meet you up on the deck?"

Please go up, please go up, please go—

"What's wrong?"

Goddammit.

"Y/n?" He looked and sounded concerned, and she ducked her head as he walked over. "Hey…"

"I'm fine," she lied.

"You're a terrible liar," he said, leaning against the counter. "What happened?"

"Nothing, I'm just overreacting." Rubbing her hand over her face, she shook her head and reached for the coffee. "Just a run-in with an asshole."

"But I haven't seen you in three hours." Max's lips barely twitched at the corner.

"Not you, a different asshole." She felt her cheeks burn and groaned. "I'm not saying you're an asshole!"

"You don't have to, I already know I can be an asshole at times." Folding his arms over his chest, he met her eyes. "Who was it?"

"That's the thing, I don't even know. I was coming out of the garage – You know, I went down to get pics of the mechanics? Anyway, I was about to text you about the Q and A and wasn't looking where I was going and bumped into him."

"Who?"

"I don't know. Older, kinda tall? Sour faced." She raised a hand to the man's approximate height. "I apologized and he told me I need to learn my place, then said I was an amateur and Horner obviously didn't hire me for my looks – I didn't ask his name because I was in shock. All I know is he had a Red Bull pass."

Max's brow furrowed, and she felt him tense. Then, to her surprise, he described the man perfectly.

"Yeah, that's him." She bit her lip. "You know him?"

"Unfortunately," he muttered. "It's my dad."

"Oh." Y/n looked down at her coffee. "Sorry."

"Me too." He sighed, pushing away from the counter. "Don't listen to him, yeah? You have more right to be here than he does, and you're not an amateur. As much as I hate social media, even I can tell that you're excellent at your job."

"Thank you," she whispered. "I just… I've spent my entire adult life working to improve myself and discover my own worth as a human being, and I can give other women empowering pep talks, but I still freeze when a man that thinks he's better than me talks down to me."

"Fuck him," Max said simply. "He's not your boss, he can't control anything you do in your life."

"Either you're really trying to make me feel better or you really don't like your dad," she murmured. When he didn't reply, she slowly lifted her gaze. Seeing the muscle in his jaw twitch, she felt a pang of sympathy. If the man had been that rude to her, a stranger, she couldn't begin to imagine what he'd been like to his own son.

"If he speaks to you like that again, you let me know."

"I don't want to cause a fuss—"

"Not wanting to cause a fuss is why he thinks he can get away with it," Max pointed out. "I'll speak to Christian—"

"Max, no, it's literally my first week!"

"Which is why you have to set boundaries now. He'll either treat you with the respect you deserve or he'll be banned from the paddock."

Y/n blinked in shock. "You'd have him banned?"

"In a heartbeat." The look on his face told her he was serious, from the determined set of his jaw to the way he kept his eyes level with hers. "So either you mention it to Christian in the team meeting or I will."

"God," she groaned, knowing that this had to be just one tiny item among a long list of infractions for Max to want him banned. "Okay. I'll tell him before the team meeting tomorrow."

"Good. Come, let's do the Q and A. You ready?" he asked, taking her empty cup and throwing it away.

"Yeah." Grateful for the distraction, she walked to the stairs with him. "I did a clip of you looking confused and posted it on TikTok and Instagram that went viral because I captioned it When You Ask Max Verstappen About Anything But Racing. Oh and I found out Tumblr fans love making gifs of you laughing. Twitter likes making memes out of your face. Whereas Facebook is mostly a bunch of boomers commenting about how I'm ruining the integrity of the sport."

"I really do hate social media," he snorted.

"And that is why I'm doing social media," she teased. Halfway up the stairs, she slowed, turning to look at him. "Thank you, Max."

"For hating social media? You're welcome."

taglist

@spookystitchery | @halleest | @lyannesworld | @llando4norris

#f1 #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #max verstappen #max verstappen fic #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #my writings > mv > rulebreaker

877 notes · View notes

lxndonorris · 6 months ago

Text

Tummy Strokes - Max Verstappen

Y/N x Max Verstappen Theme: Smutish (light touching) the title says it all x word count: 1130+ taglist: @game-set-canet I love this picture so much, my handsome dutchy x open for requests :)

The hum of activity in the Red Bull Racing garage is almost soothing in its routine chaos. Mechanics buzz around you, fine-tuning every aspect of the car that will soon roar on the Monaco circuit. Despite the frenzy, this corner feels like your private oasis, hidden from the world.

Max stands in front of you, resplendent in his racing suit, every inch the epitome of a Formula 1 driver. With his suit slightly unzipped at the top, a tantalizing glimpse of the white fireproofs underneath is revealed.

Max looks every bit the champion in his snug racing suit. The fabric hugs his athletic frame, accentuating his physique with flawless precision. Every contour of his body is highlighted, from the broadness of his shoulders to the lean muscles of his arms and legs. As he moves, the suit moves with him, a second skin that seems tailor-made to showcase his strength and agility.

His confidence radiates from him, his stature commanding attention even in the bustling atmosphere of the Monaco Grand Prix. With his cap perched just on his head, he exudes a casual charm that belies the fierce competitor within.

But it is the way he carries himself with quiet determination and unwavering focus that truly makes him stand out.

You can't help but smile at how effortlessly handsome he looks, even amid the pre-race madness.

"You look amazing." You say, your voice barely above a whisper but filled with admiration.

Max blushed slightly, the faintest hint of pink coloring his cheeks. It is a rare sight, and it makes your heart swell.

You reach out, your hand finding his stomach, and begin to stroke him gently. The fabric of the suit is smooth under your fingers, and you feel the tension in his muscles ease as you touch him.

The small act of intimacy is something he cherishes, and you love being able to provide him with a moment of calm.

Max's gaze softens with a mixture of affection and vulnerability. It is a simple gesture, but it speaks volumes about the trust and comfort you find in each other's presence. At the same time, his tummy tenses slightly under your touch, a reaction that sends a thrill of warmth through you.

His blue eyes meet yours, a soft smile curving his lips. "That shirt suits you well," he says, his voice warm and genuine.

You glance down at the Red Bull shirt you are wearing, a mirror image of his usual style, paired with skinny jeans.

"Thanks; it's my favorite," you reply, looking back up to see him watching you with an expression that is both tender and filled with a kind of unspoken pride.

You continue stroking his chest, and Max lets out a low growl, a sound that sends a thrill through me. His expression softens even more, his eyes closing briefly as he savors the delicate strokes.

"That feels good." He hums, leaning into your touch, sighing contentedly as the firmness of his body relaxes beneath your hand.

Max's hands at your waist pull you closer to him, and you steady yourself against his firm chest, feeling the warmth of his body radiating through the fabric of his racing suit. With a gentle touch, you slip one of your hands inside his suit, feeling the smooth texture of the fireproofs against your skin as you stroke his chest.

As your fingers trace along Max's taut muscles beneath his thin firerpoofs, eliciting a low growl from his throat, you can't help but feel a rush of excitement coursing through you.

Felling his hands along your waistline, exploring with a gentle yet possessive touch, only fuels the fire between you, but then a mechanic approaches you, breaking the spell.

"Max, time to gear up." He says, his tone respectful yet firm.

As the announcement for the third free practice echoes through the garage, Max straightens up, the professional racer taking over.

"Duty calls," he murmurs, licking his lips in anticipation of the adrenaline-filled session.

With a smile, you take hold of the zipper on Max's racing suit, slowly pulling it up as he enjoys the sensation. His eyes close briefly, savoring the feeling of the sleek fabric sliding smoothly against his skin.

Once the suit is fully zipped up, you continue to stroke his chest a few more times, relishing the firmness of his muscles beneath the fabric.

Max's contented expression only spurs you on, and you indulge in a few more gentle strokes before playfully snatching his cap and placing it on your own head.

"Hey!" he protests, his eyes lighting up with amusement.

You give him a cheeky grin. "It suits me, don't you think?" Tilting your head teasingly, you shrug. "And you don't need it just now, do you?"

Max chuckles, shaking his head. "Alright, you can borrow it, but only because it looks so good on you." A final grin plays on his lips, and Max concedes defeat, allowing you to keep the cap for the time being.

He runs a hand through his hair, the gesture adding a touch of casual charm to his already magnetic presence. His tousled locks seem to dance beneath his fingertips.

With a final, lingering look, Max turns to join his team. You watch as he gears up, slipping on his gloves and helmet with practiced ease. The snug fit of his suit flatters every curve and contour of his body, accentuating the firm muscles and the tension building inside him as he prepares for the session.

After donning his helmet, Max takes a moment to make sure everything is in place. With a swift motion, he adjusts the straps and secures the helmet snugly against his head.

Once satisfied with the fit, he runs his gloved hand over his chest, feeling the smooth fabric of his racing suit. It is a ritual, a final check to ensure everything is as it should be before hitting the track.

His touch is confident, familiar with the contours of his own body. He traces the lines of his muscles, feeling the tension beneath the fabric. A moment of silent concentration, a moment where the outside world fades away, and there is only him and the session ahead.

As he strokes his chest, a sense of determination washes over him. He is ready. Ready to push himself to the limit, ready to chase victory with every ounce of his being. With one last deep breath, he glances at you, a silent acknowledgement of the support you share.

Then, with a nod to his mechanics, he steps into the cockpit, his focus shifting entirely to the task at hand. The enhine roars to life, a symphony of power and precision.

You watch him go, your heart swelling with pride and admiration for the incredible athlete he is.

932 notes · View notes

thef1diary · 1 year ago

Text

Do Not Disturb | M. Verstappen

Summary: Max hates your ex, so when the right opportunity falls right into his hands, he takes it. Even when he's fucking you in the hotel room.

Warnings: 18+, cocky Max, reader is a tease, champagne shenanigans, oral (m receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, degradative terms (barely but just a warning in case)

Word Count: 2.4k

Pairing: max & f!reader

Note: another repost because why not

Max loves winning. Especially winning the first place trophy in his racing career-from karting when he was younger to the F1 races. Although, for a while now, he's been happier. Many people think it's because of his two back to back world championships. While that may be true, he has another reason.

You.

You have known Max for a long time, both growing up together because your parents were good friends. From the moment he began his racing career in the smaller karts, you've been there. From hating the sound of the karts passing by, to loving the sound of F1 cars passing by. You didn't really have a choice because Max always wanted you by his side.

The point is, you've known Max long enough to know everything about him. Even his fans know you as his number one supporter. But what no one knew, was that your friendship has changed overtime. You and Max got to experience things that one normally would in a relationship, without actually being in a relationship.

You two were friends with benefits. It began a few years ago, drunken celebrations led to lingering touches which eventually ended in crossing the line of a regular friendship. There were no regrets but you weren't romantically attracted to him and neither was he, so the decision was made to remain as just friends.

Today, Max had won another race. He stood on the top step of the podium, listening to his country's national anthem with a smile on his face. While he was glad to add another trophy to his collection, he was thinking of all the ways he would be celebrating with you later on. Preferably with you underneath him on his bed, naked.

While you saw him smile towards his team, his expression towards you was slightly different. A difference that no one else knew the meaning behind. See the thing is, you might've told him something when he embraced you after getting out of his car. "A little fact, I'm not wearing anything under this dress"

You knew that no one would hear you because they were too busy cheering for the man in front of you. Max was pulled away by others but his gaze was still on you. Now, as he was standing on the podium, he watched you with a look that only meant mischief.

After the podium celebrations ended, Max was taken away for some post-race interviews where the same questions is asked in different ways.

Knowing that it'll take him a while, you returned to your hotel room. Usually you would stay and converse with some other drivers while he was busy, but today was a different story.

The comment you made wasn't a lie, you truly weren't wearing any undergarments under your dress. It was definitely risky, but you knew that it would spark a reaction out of Max. And you were glad that it did.

You debated whether or not you should send Max a text, something for his eyes only, but decided otherwise because you didn't want anyone else to see. Plus, he should be waiting for his reward. Perhaps another time.

After freshening up, you sat on the couch in the main room, scrolling mindlessly on your phone, waiting for Max to arrive. However, your eyes widened in surprise when you saw a notification from your ex.

It was a text asking if you could meet him. You were debating on either being nice and meeting him once more for closure, or if you should ignore him. The thing was, you didn't like ending on rough terms. You would hate to be in his spot right now, but considering the things your ex has done, you didn't know what to do.

Before you could reply, the door to your hotel room opened and Max walked in. He was holding his trophy in one hand, and the champagne bottle that he got on the podium in the other hand.

Smiling, you got up and embraced him, "congratulations, champion"

"Don't act like you don't know what you did." He retorted, not hugging you back. "Oh I know exactly what I did." You stepped away from him and your hands travelled down his chest, teasing the edge of the hem of his shirt.

"Got me so hard on the fucking podium. Who knows what people will think?" He let your hands roam around his body, close to where he needs it the most.

"Who cares what they think? You looked so hot covered in champagne"

"Yeah? Let me return the favour" Max tilted his head towards the champagne bottle in his hand.

He placed his trophy on the table to free his hand that was itching to touch you. Wrapping that free hand around your waist, he pulled you against him. Then, tilting your head back, he instructed "open"

You obliged, opening your mouth and waiting for the cool champagne to fill your mouth. He didn't stop even after your mouth was full, letting the excess drip down your chin.

"Swallow" he said, watching closely as you listened. Then, he kissed you, savouring the familiar taste of victory that he worked hard for.

Your hands were still roaming around his body, lifting up his shirt by the hem. Parting away just for a moment to remove his shirt, then his lips were back on yours.

His lips travelled lower to your neck, lapping up the champagne that dripped earlier. His two favourite things combined, your taste mixed with the champagne. His mind was buzzing with all the things he wanted to do to you.

Pouring some more champagne on your throat, his tongue darted out to drink it. "Max" you groaned, liking the sensations but also wanting more.

"Gonna cover you in champagne, baby" he whispered as he continued his ministrations. You made a sound, agreeing to his idea. "Make you all sticky with alcohol then with my cum" he continued, and you really liked that suggestion, "fuck yes please"

"Yeah, you want that?" He asked, bringing his face back up and placing a kiss to your lips. You nodded, "yes please, Max" you replied, breathlessly.

Bringing his beloved champagne bottle up again, he smirked as he slowly poured it down the front of your dress. He watched as the cloth stuck to your body, and he also noticed how your nipples hardened underneath. It was due to the mix of pleasure radiating through your body along with the cold champagne.

"You really aren't wearing anything underneath huh?" He believed you when you said it, but seeing it was another thing. "Why bother when I know you are going to remove it after you win" you found your words and explained your reasoning behind the lack of clothes.

"Fuck baby, you knew I was going to win today?" Max loved how much you believed in him. "Not a single doubt otherwise." This time you claimed his lips with yours.

You supported him like no other. And he was so grateful for that; for you.

Pressing up against his chest, he could feel how soaked your dress was and decided to remove it. Blindly finding the zipper on the back, he tugged it down.

Before he could explore your body using his hands, you pressed one more kiss on his lips before sitting down on your knees. Both of you were now quite impatient, and it was evident in your actions.

Quickly removing his belt and tugging the last layer of clothes down to his knees, you paused for a moment. You placed your hands on his thighs and made eye contact with him, noting how he was already looking down at you. "Want a reward for winning?" You asked rhetorically.

Max nodded, "yes, give me your filthy mouth that loves my cock"

You wrapped your lips around his tip, not taking him any further. You can tell that Max is restraining himself from thrusting in your mouth, and for a brief moment you go deeper but then remove your mouth. "You want my mouth?" You asked, teasingly.

"Fuck yes. I want you" he replies, groaning. You almost break out in a smile but contain yourself, "ask nicely."

Max's glare tells you that if it were up to him, you'd be on all fours with your face pressed in the mattress. But, he also knows that even though you're the one that's on your knees, you have all the power right now.

"Please, I need you so bad. Make me feel good please?" He gave in, listening to you. And man, he definitely felt like a winner when you took almost all of him in one movement.

His hand was resting on your head, tempted to force you to take more. You loved the sounds he was making above you when you would brush against a good spot. You noticed every little movement of his; how his breath would hitch when you moaned, how his abs would tense as if he's trying to hold himself back, and the way he would wrap your hair around his fingers tightly.

Right now, all your focus was on pleasuring Max. After all, he is the winner. And you'd be down on your knees to do this every time he wins, because you love it as much as he does.

Sucking greedily on his cock along with his dirty words made a shiver run down your spine. You two were in for a long night, willing to spend a couple hours in each other's presence.

Max was looking at the way his cock made a bulge in your mouth as you tried taking all of him. You knew you couldn't, but you tested the limits. But, his eyes darted around until he could find your phone since he heard it ringing. It was on the couch that you were sitting on earlier, and the screen was facing up which meant he could see the caller id.

He wanted to make a comment on it especially after knowing that it was your ex calling, but you didn't give him a chance to do so. To bring his focus back to you, you put your hand on top on his that was resting on your head, and urged him to force you deeper.

You both simultaneously let out sounds which drowned out the sound of the incessant ringing, making Max forget about it all.

You knew he was close so you pulled off after deeply sucking him one last time, then replaced your mouth with your hand. "Gonna cover me in your cum?" You asked, looking at him as he figured why you pulled away.

The height of his pleasure almost made him close his eyes but he chose to force them open so he could see how his cum coated your chest.

Once you knew he finished, you removed your hand from him and dragged it through the cum on your chest, coating your finger. Then, knowing that he was watching every move, you cleaned off your finger using your tongue.

"You look so pretty baby" he commented as he helped you stand up.

The thing about Max, is that he would be ready for another round in no time. His stamina and refractory period was unbeatable. "You weren't really nice to me so I don't know if I should fuck you." He told you, holding back a smirk when you pouted. "I know you want to, baby. My pussy's so wet because of you."

"Is it now? Waiting for me to fuck you dumb? That's what you want right?" Max asked as his hand travelled down your body, just barely touching you like you wanted him to.

"Yes, fuck me dumb" you pleaded and he positioned you on the couch to lay on your back. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you pulled him closer.

There was barely any resistance when he slid in you due to your wetness that had dropped down to your thighs. "So perfect for me" Max groaned as he felt you clenching around him, causing his hips to stutter since he already orgasmed once.

Max's hands were on your thighs but he moved one to drag up towards the pool of his cum still resting on your body. He would definitely clean you up later, but right now, seeing you like this did something to him. And he liked it.

His two coated fingers tapped your lips and you opened your mouth, taking them in. Once you sucked them clean, he removed his fingers which was now coated with your saliva, and teased your clit.

You arched your back, feeling every single thrust deep, especially after he easily found the perfect spot and kept a relentless pace. Your hands were balling up in fists, tightly gripping on the sheets.

You were so caught up in your pleasure that you didn't hear your phone ringing again, until Max picked it up. "She's too busy being fucked by me" is what you first heard him say to the person on the other side. It didn't take a genius to figure out who it was.

For some reason, that edged you even closer to your release. "Here, listen to her because you'll never get the chance again." Max told your ex, and held the phone closer to you so the man on the other end could hear your moans only meant for Max.

At the same time, his thrusts became stronger and faster. With that plus his fingers circling your clit caused you to moan Max's name out loud as you came undone.

Your ex heard it all. Max slowed his thrusts but didn't completely stop to prolong your orgasm, and held the phone to his ear again. "Don't you dare think about calling her again." He instructed before hanging up and tossing the phone to the side.

You were all fucked out, just like he wanted, looking up at him with a small smile. Seeing Max's smug expression, you forgot about any embarrassment regarding the fact that your ex heard you moan Max's name.

#f1 #max verstappen #max verstappen x you #max verstappen smut #max verstappen x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1blr #formula 1 #thef1diary fic

3K notes · View notes

motorsportbarbie13 · 25 days ago

Text

Forbidden - Part 4

In which your heart shatters into a million pieces.

Warnings: swearing, descriptions of a panic attack, charles being a dick.

Pairing: Max Verstappen x LeClercSister!Reader word count: 2.3k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Master List

Summer break. Four blissful weeks of no racing talk, no work for Max, and nothing to do but spend the day in bed. Of course, you had work to do but considering half of Europe was also on summer holiday at the moment, your inbox was fairly empty and you didn’t have much going on. The first week of the summer vacation passed with you spending nearly all your time with Max, holed up in either your new apartment that you finally found and rented four weeks ago or in his apartment across town. The uninterrupted time you had spent with him so far had been one of the best weeks of your entire life.

And Max felt the same way. It was so nice being out of the spotlight for a while, able to hide away and focus solely on you. Things between the two of you were becoming…serious, he supposed. It was still a secret from everyone and Max was beginning to chafe under that shroud of secrecy. You were still insistent on keeping it private, still confident that Charles would have an absolute fit if he found out.

But you also were wary of what the media and fans would do if they found out. Just a few weeks ago, there had been a rumor about Oscar’s girlfriend Lily being pregnant and Oscar had been accused of hiding her pregnancy to save his career. It was all false, of course. You had seen Lily with your own eyes the other night when you ran into her and Oscar while you were at dinner with your mother and Charlie and she was very not pregnant. But you could see the toll it had taken on the both of them. The way Lily looked a little more on edge than normal, and Oscar a little more distant than usual had you nervous of what would happen if Max and you ever decided to go public.

For now though, you were content setting up house and pretending the outside world didn’t exist. In another week, you would go on a trip with your family to Croatia for a week, spending time on a yacht Charlie had rented to island hop. While you didn’t want to leave Max, who would be leaving to spend some time with his family first in Belgium, where his mother was from and then in Italy. You hated how much your heart hurt when you thought about how much you’d miss him while he was gone for the two weeks, but the first race back would be Max’s home race in the Netherlands which would be such a good weekend.

You were in the shower that morning when everything crashed and burned. Your phone had been set to Do Not Disturb for various reasons, so you missed the warning signs. Max was in your kitchen, the picture of domestic bliss, as he flipped pancake after pancake, wanting to surprise you with breakfast after you had finished getting cleaned up from this mornings romp in the sheets with him. His shirt was off as he stood barefoot in only a pair of running shorts in front of the stove, whistling along to the upbeat jazz that floated out from the speakers connected to the bluetooth on his phone.

The smell of the freshly made pancakes, sticky with syrup, wafted through the small apartment, drawing you out of your bathroom in only one of Max’s shirts. “Something smells good.” You crooned, padding into the kitchen in bare feet, hair still damp from your shower.

Max hums in response, pointing to the pile of pancakes waiting for you on the counter. Wrapping your arms around his waist, you rest your head on his shoulder, pressing your lips to the bare skin there. He always tasted so good, you could never resist the chance to taste him.

“There’s fruit on the table, juice in the fridge. You really need to go to the grocery store, liefje.”

Your heart fluttered at the new pet name he’d begun to call you in the last few weeks. You hadn’t known what it meant and when you asked Max, he shyly told you it was Dutch for ‘baby’ or ‘love’. You had always been a sucker for pet names but pet names in a different language than your native French and English? That did something extra to your heart.

“I know, I know. I can’t help it if there’s a hot Formula 1 driver that refuses to let me out of bed for longer than a few moments though, can I?”

Max raps you on the ass with the spatula as you scamper away, giggling at the grin he tosses over his shoulder at you.

“What the actual FUCK am I looking at right now?”

You spin around, the bowl of fruit in your hands clattering to the ground at the sound of your brother’s voice.

Oh fuck.

Your eyes bounce from your brother’s face, a mask of rage to Max’s horrified expression.

“And here we thought you were hurt or something, but no!” Charles stalks towards you, the key to your apartment dangling from his fingertip. “No, you’re just playing house with my biggest fucking rival! Of all the people you could choose to fuck, it had to be HIM?”

“Charlie.” You whisper, tears burning the back of your eyes at the look of pure anger and more horrifying, sadness, etched on your brother’s face. “It’s not what you think. This isn’t…”

“Save it. I don’t want to hear you justify whoring yourself out to fucking Max Verstappen.”

“Do not speak to my girlfriend like that, Charles.” Max grits out, the muscles in his jaw twitching from how tightly he’s grinding his molars together.

You turn slowly, along with Charles, at his words and blink at him. Girlfriend?

Max ignores the look of panic on your face and continues, voice measured and deathly calm. “I know this might be,” He pauses, searching for the right word. “Upsetting and a surprise but this is not a fling, I swear.”

If it had been any other time, you would have melted at his words. And you were still reeling from Max calling you his girlfriend. But you had bigger things to focus on. Charles practically shook with anger as he tore his gaze away from Max, fury fully settling on you now. “How long? How long have you been lying to me? To everyone? You’ve been traveling with us under the guise of spending more time with me, living in Monaco to be closer to the family but all this time, you’ve been with him?”

The disgust in your brother’s voice turns your stomach, acid creeping it’s way up your throat. “Since Austria.” You whisper, wincing when Charles throws your key across the room in a fit of rage.

“I fucking knew it. I knew something was up when you suddenly had that migraine in Belgium but didn’t answer your door when I came to check on you after dinner. You lied to me! You never lie to me. We never keep secrets and this is the first one you choose to keep from me? My sister fucking the man that has taken everything from me my entire career? What kind of fucking joke it this?”

“It’s not a joke, Charles.” Max murmurs from where he now stands beside you, fingers laced tightly with yours. Maybe if he showed your brother that this wasn’t some random fling, he’s calm down.

“Shut your fucking mouth Verstappen.” He growls, furious gaze swinging back to you. “This obviously can’t continue.”

“Wh-what?” You stutter, absolutely floored that your bother would think that he could make you choose.

“You left the family for six god damned years because you couldn’t handle being the sister of someone famous! What do you think it’s going to be like as Max Verstappen’s fucking girlfriend! You’re not strong enough.”

Pain lances through your entire body at the venom in your brother’s voice. “Charlie.” You choke, unable to believe that your best friend, your twin, just said something that awful to you.

“Enough.” Max shouts, stepping in between the pair of you, shielding you from Charles’ view. “You need to leave, right fucking now.”

Charles scoffs, still completely floored by what he walked in on. “You know what, you two deserve each other. Both fucking liars. Don’t bother worrying about coming to Croatia with us, you’re not wanted there anymore. I’m sure you’d have more fun with your new boy toy anyway.”

Charles turns on his heel and stalks out of your apartment, slamming the door shut behind him so hard you flinch. A haunted silence falls over you and Max, panic and anguish flooding your body as you begin to tremble from the scene that just unfolded before you.

“Fuck.” Max breaths, turning to you. “I’m so sorry liefje.” He reaches out to take you into his arms but to his surprise, you step out of his reach. Panic shoots through him, you’ve never turned down affection from him, especially when you’re upset. He’s been the one you go to for comfort for months now and not being able to do anything about how distraught you are sets his teeth on edge. “Liefje?”

“He’s right, you know.” You whisper, not sure if you’re talking to yourself of Max.

“What?” All Max wants to do is hold you, to get his arms wrapped around you and stop your shaking.

Tears stream down your face as your brother’s words echo in your head. How you weren’t strong enough. You were whoring yourself out. The vile words repeated over and over until the buzz of his venom was all you could hear. Your breath comes quicker, panic squeezing itself around your heart as you fight for a breath that just won’t come. You know what’s coming and are helpless to fend it off. Having Max see you so weak sends you even further down the road towards the panic attack you can’t keep at bay.

“You need to leave.” You choke out, desperately needing to be alone to work this out by yourself. It’s how you’ve always done it, gathered yourself together on your own without anyone else seeing you so weak. You couldn’t let Max see you like this. How could you when the only other person you’ve ever allowed in just threw everything in your face. No, you couldn’t stand if Max turned on you too.

Max comes to stand beside you, concern etched on his handsome face. “What? No, schatje absolutely not. I can’t. Leave you right now, you need me. You can’t be alone now.”

“That’s exactly what I need. Charles was right, I’m not strong enough to be your girlfriend.” You choke on the word, having wanted to be claimed by him for months now and when you finally get what you want, it hurts too much to even enjoy it.

His arms reach out to circle your waist, pulling you to him. Strength completely depleted, you allow him to crush you to his chest, the heat of his skin like a warm blanket settling over you. “Baby, I can’t do that. I just can’t.”

“You have to. Charlie was right.” You repeat again, still listening to his words on a loop in your head. “I need some time to process what just happened and I need to do it alone. Please, Max.” He winces, you never call him just ‘Max’.

His arms drop away from you then and despite your begging him to leave, you instantly miss his warmth. “Is this the end?” Emotion claws at his throat, unable to process what is happening. You’re simply the best thing that’s ever happened to him and now? Now you’re pushing him away.

“I don’t know.” You choke out on a sob.

“Fine. I’ll go but I don’t want to. You call me the moment you change your mind, okay? And this isn’t over, not for me. It won’t ever be over for me, liefje.”

Max retreats to the bedroom for a moment, leaving you standing cold and alone in the kitchen. When he returns, he’s got a shirt on. He doesn’t have his bag that he brought with him though, he refuses to bring it with him. It’s too final, taking that bag out of the house. He wants, no needs, an excuse to come back and he wants you to know that he’s not leaving without a fight. He’ll respect your wishes for now because he knows you think you need the space but if he knows you, and he’s betting everything that he does, you won’t run away from what the two of you have.

You’re balled up on the couch, faraway gaze staring at nothing when he comes to stand in front of you. “I’m going now but if you need me, you can call me. Any time of day, no matter what.” He crouches down in front of you, fingers snagging your chin so you’re forced to look at him instead of at some unknown point over his shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere. I love you, liefje. So fucking much.”

The sob that escapes your throat shatters his heart in a million pieces. He doesn’t know if that was the right thing to do, to tell you what’s bene on his mind for weeks now. It was the truth though. He’d been fighting it for what felt like forever now, terrified to scare you off with those words that felt like they were coming too early but now? Now it was different. He needed you to know that he wasn’t going to give up this easily. He needed you to know that he had fallen head over heels for you and that he’d never leave, no matter how hard you pushed him away.

Your silence ripped him even further in two but he accepted it, knowing that there was too much emotion swirling around in that head of yours to properly respond. Maybe that made him selfish, taking this time to tell you how he felt but he needed you to know.

Dropping a kiss on your head, Max stands and does the hardest thing he’s ever had to do. He walks out of your apartment not knowing when he’ll see you again.

Tag List: @shelbyteller, @formulaal, @martygraciesversion381, @longhairkoo

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfic #angst

314 notes · View notes

cherryredstars · 1 year ago

Note

Hiiii congratulations in 1k you deserve it so much!

not sure if this is how to request a prompt for your 1k celebration but can I get "reader gets injured" with Simon please

1K Prompts

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x gn!reader

Warnings: Injury, Hospitals, Angst with Happy Ending, Indirect Mentions to Simon’s Abuse

Summary: He hasn't done it in a long while.

Word Count: 1.8K (Not Edited)

There is nothing in the world.

It all disappears in a blur as his mind races. His mind, his thoughts, are faster than the car. He can’t make out anything zooming past his window, barely even recognizes the colors or the feel of the wheel under his hands. He’s jittery, highly agitated as he yells and slams on his horn. He doesn’t even process the words he’s saying, doesn’t even know if they’re even words. Maybe they’re just sounds, grunts and wordless screams. He doesn't know, doesn’t care. It doesn’t matter right now. Nothing matters right now. Nothing will matter until he makes it to the hospital.

He needs a new car, he thinks. This one is too slow. It’s max isn’t fast enough. At this point, it’d be faster for him to get into a car accident and be driven in an ambulance to the hospital than this piece of junk truck. It makes him grit his teeth, swerving in and out of lanes and breaking traffic laws he doesn’t care to keep count of. He can vaguely make out Price’s car behind him, Johnny in the car behind Price’s. Don’t say that, he can hear Price say in his head, Don’t say that, Simon. Especially not now.

Great, now his own fucking thoughts are making him feel guilty.

He doesn’t really park, he runs over the curb actually. It causes everyone to jump back, throwing mean words at him that don’t land. The keys are still in the ignition, trusting Gaz will take care of it. Who gives a damn about that fucking car anyways, Simon thinks. He’s already made up his mind that he’s getting a new one. A sports car maybe, not for the looks but for the speed. He’ll have to do research on the fastest car money can buy when he’s home. When both of you are home.

The cold air of the hospital makes him shiver once he runs inside. He looks lost for a second, eyes scanning the new environment for his goal. His eyes skip over the reception desk before rapidly darting back. Once his eyes lock on it, he walks with purpose. His eyes don’t stray, effectively maneuvering his body around the busy waiting room and lobby until he’s right in front of it. He doesn’t realize his hands are shaking until he plants them on the desk. His fingers tremble and jerk, skin flinching with the feeling of absolute dread running through his body.

“How ca-”

“Last name Riley. Car accident.” He cuts the receptionist off. His voice has the hard edge he uses with the recruits. It doesn’t faze the receptionist.

He’s impatient as they tap away at the computer, their eyebrows furrowed and they ask Simon for more information like your first name and sex. Simon gives them irritably, almost blowing a fuse when they ask for his relationship with the patient.

“Spouse.”

He has never been annoyed to declare that to someone before. But he finds little reason to be prideful and happy right now.

“Still in surgery, but you and your group can wait in the waiting room to the left. A surgical doctor should be out shortly with news.”

Simon turns around, not even noticing the rest of 141 standing patiently behind him. His eyes scan them, nodding before he turns and walks robotically to the waiting room. Price politely thanked the receptionist for him before following after Simon. Simon throws himself into an empty seat, leg bouncing against the floor. His eyes find the doors that lead to surgical suits. His arms wrap around his chest, attempting to keep his racing heart in his chest. A harsh breath is exhaled from his nose, getting caught under his balaclava. It gets a few stares from some of the families in the waiting room, some clutching their smaller children closer to them. Simon would usually take it off for the sole purpose of not drawing attention to himself, but he can’t find it in himself to care. Or, he doesn’t feel like he can. It feels like it's the only thing keeping him together right now. If he takes it off, he’ll come crumbling down. The fake composure will die away with the exposure and he’ll die before knowing if you’re alright. Depending on the answer, he might not make it through the night.

A cup is placed in front of his face and Simon follows the hand up to the face of Johnny. Simon takes it, the warmth feeling strange against his skin. He doesn’t drink from it. Johnny and him don’t exchange words, turning to take the seat across from him and next to Gaz. Price is in the chair next to Simon, all four of them silent. Johnny stares at Simon, Simon stares at the floor, Price flips through outdated magazines from the coffee table beside him, and Gaz is surveying the space. All of them are still clad in their military gear, just gotten off the plane when Simon-- when Ghost-- got the call. Gaz cracks his knuckles and Simon has to bite his tongue to rest the urge to tell him to shut up.

He resorts to counting the seconds that pass in his head. He loses count whenever the steel doors open and a doctor and nurse comes out. His head snaps up, the boys following his line of sight as the doctor peers over at the clipboard the nurse has. He prepares to shoot up when the doctor’s surgical mask shifts with jaw movement. He starts back from one when the name being called isn’t Riley. He thinks his heart shrinks with every name that passes. Price always pats his back with a ‘the next one, mate’.

Sometimes between the seconds and names, Simon finds his forehead leaning against his folded hands. His eyes are shut tightly and he tries to do something he hasn’t done in a long time, something he has believed to not work for a long time. Simon sits and he prays. He prays. He doesn’t remember if there is a process he's supposed to follow. He only remembers all his past prayers had been rushed, hiccuped statements made after his father left his room or when he heard the yelling in the kitchen. They never got answered.

Is he supposed to start with something? Is he supposed to have a rosary or a bible or something in his hands? His hands are still covered with dirt from the battlefield, he reeks of smoke and gunfire. Is he clean enough to be praying? Does God or whatever up there care? He hopes they don’t, hopes they give him a free pass just this once. He hopes they do it for your sake. He hopes and prays and hopes some more. Is it enough? It doesn’t feel like enough.

Is Simon supposed to sweet talk them? Butter them up until their egos are fed and find him worthy of listening to. He isn’t good at that. Or does he need to be direct? Demanding what he wants and not backing down until he gets it? He’s really good at that. You would probably know what to do. Even if you don’t, you’d probably have a solution that makes sense. Everything makes sense when it's you. You make everything make sense. Simon doesn’t know how he lived so long without it. He doesn’t want to be reminded.

He debates getting up. Debates if he should go to the receptionist and ask them where the hospital’s chapel is. Maybe he’ll find whatever the fuck the religious connection guy is and ask them how to pray. Ask them to teach him. Or maybe he’ll ask them to pray for you. He’s sure they have a better chance of being answered then he does. But a fear glues him to his seat. What if he leaves and your name gets called? What if he isn’t there when it happens? What if he isn’t there for you again? He sits and he hopes and he prays.

Please. Please, whoever, whatever can hear me, don’t take them from me. Stop taking people I care about away from me.

He hopes it is enough. He hopes they hear him and they remember the shit they put him through. He hopes they take pity on him. Simon hates when people feel sorry for him. He hopes they feel really bad and really sorry and really, really awful for what he had to go through. He hopes they find him to be the most pitiful human there ever was to exist. He hopes it's enough to save you. He hopes they decided to be nice to him today.

And they are. Holy fuck they are.

The doctor comes out, a nurse with clipboard following three times. Simon gets up the fourth time, before the name is even called. Price and Johnny and Gaz stand with him.

“Riley.”

He flies. He flies across the room, ‘Here. I’m here. That’s me.’ He doesn’t know if he says those words aloud or in his head. The doctor watches him approach and Simon almost collapses to the ground when his surgical mask moves. He doesn’t catch everything, his mind being too slow to follow. Traumatic brain trauma. Bleeding. Successful. Lucky. Strong. Fighter. Okay.

Okay, okay, okay.

He thinks Price keeps him upright when he grabs his arm to pat him in the back. Simon grabs him back, pulling him close and his shoulders shake as he hides his face. He feels like a kid, crying into his captain’s shoulder as relief washes over him. Price squeezes him. The two of them say nothing, and Johnny and Gaz excuse themselves to get everyone food from the hospital cafeteria.

Later, Simon finds himself in your hospital room. The chair is slightly more comfortable than the ones in the waiting room. The boys have gone home by now, promising to drop by and telling Simon to keep them updated. Usually, constant noise would irritate Simon. But he finds himself thankful every time the heart monitor beeps, praying the noise never stops. He must have dozed off because he’s confused when he feels the slight rubbing on his hand. The sound of the heart monitor is different, still consistent but a bit faster.

He pulls his head from his arms, propping his chin on his forearm as his gaze drifts to your face. Your eyes are half-lidded and sleepy, face drenched in exhaustion. You are so absolutely beautiful that it's devastating. It punctures his lungs and deflates his body of any breath he will ever take. His heart beats rapidly, hand squeezing yours tightly as his spine straightens. He has to resist the urge to pull you to him and crush you against his frame.

You give him a dopey smile, one stained with tiredness and the remains of the anesthetic.

“Hi.”

Your voice is croaky and your speech is slurred. It’s beautiful and the most lovely sound to exist.

Simon brings your knuckles to his chapped lips. He presses a firm kiss to them, eyes squeezed shut so tightly that a few drops of water drop onto your skin.

“Hi.”

His voice is just as croaky and just as beautiful.

Got a little carried away with this one.

#cherry's requests🍒#cherry's specials!🍒#simon ghost riley x reader #ghost simon riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #cod simon riley #ghost call of duty #ghost mw2 #mw2 ghost #ghost cod #cod simon ghost riley #simon ghost x you #cod x reader #cod ghost #cod mwii

993 notes · View notes

dancingwithreality · 1 year ago

Text

romeo and juliet t.w.

gif not mine!

pairing: toto wolff x verstappen!sister

word count: 3.1k

summary: red bulls golden girl has been in a long term secret relationship with the team principal of mercedes, and it gets harder to keep the secret.

warnings: implied sexual content, jos verstappen 🤢, fluff, light steam but no smut

a/n: yes she’s a little child prodigy, but it works better for the plot. if this gets love 'n y'all really want more i'll do a second part maybe :)

please don’t take my work! enjoy and interact :)

JOS VERSTAPPEN was not a nice man, and an even worse father. He was demanding and mean, pushing his driving legacy onto his children. Well, onto Max. When his first child was a girl Jos was not happy. He didn’t think a girl could uphold such a prestige, so he never tried hard. You gave your all to impress your father but it was never enough for him. Then a few years later, he got Max, and when Max was of age he immediately started karting. You were quickly pushed to the back of his mind.

Through the years, even though you did better than Max, he still never cared about you as much as he did Max. Which is definitely saying something. You made your career as the youngest female driver to ever get second in the F2 Championship at 16 years old. At the last race, when you solidified your position as second in the WDC, you will always remember how your 12 year old baby brother went running up to you, pride swelling in his eyes.

He kept chanting your praises and hugged you tightly around your waist. Tears were brought to your eyes and you hugged him back. You took Max up to the podium with you and celebrated with the whole world watching. Except, Jos. His arms were crossed as he barely spared you a glance. That was the last time your heart broke because of him. You swore to yourself, you’d be there for Max how your father never was, and you’d stop relying on him to validate you.

Your success put you on the radar for many teams. The one you went with, was Red Bull. You joined their academy and were their first female reserve. There you met Daniel and became quick friends. Years later, when Max joined Toro Rosso you’d been driving for Red Bull for years already. You were the one that pushed for Max to be your reserve the following year, and everything fell into place.

Now you were 28. You had four consecutive vice championships under your wing and were driving alongside your two-consecutive championship winning brother. Everyone called you the ‘Wonder Twins’ and your family legacy had never burned brighter.

You were having a relaxing dinner with your brother and best friend, reminiscing on your life and how lucky you were. While Daniel and Max took over most of the conversation and were laughing the entire time, you memorized this night to remember it forever. Unbeknownst to Max, your boyfriend of four years was sitting further back in the restaurant having his own night. Glances were being passed back and forth between you to as your relationship was still a secret.

•••

It was 2018, after the Singapore race. The whole grid was out at some club and even some principals and team members joined you.

You and Danny were having the best time dancing and drinking, when you felt someone’s eyes on you. Finding the source gave you a shock and surprise to see Toto staring at you. When your eyes met, he sent a wink your way that made you blush and look back at Daniel. Hurriedly you whispered to him what had happened and the Aussie was at a loss for words. He knew of your little crush on the Austrian often teased you about it, but he never thought the crush would be reciprocated. Nonetheless he matched your excitement and decided you would do something about it.

Danny fluffed up your hair, and your ego, while encouraging you to go talk to him. ‘Open, lemme see your teeth,’ Daniel made a face at you telling you to do the same. You did and he confirmed that nothing was there. ‘Right, go at ‘em!’ He started to push you towards the bar.

‘What am i supposed to say!’ You started panicking while trying to look calm.

‘Turn up that Dutch charm or something! You’ve got this,’ Daniel winked and sent you on your way with a gentle pat on the back.

You were skeptical that Toto would even follow you to the bar. But he did. And somewhere in the night, small talk and glances turned into light touches and smiles. Which turned to laughs and close proximity, which led you going back to the hotel room with him for more privacy and a nightcap. The night was one to really remember as it started what you could only describe as the best thing to happen to you. The morning after wasn’t a walk of shame, no, your held was high and you were filled with joy and you stumbled all the way back to your room, eager to tell Danny all the details.

•••

You were brought back to reality as Daniel kicked you under the table and cleared his throat. Your face burned from how long you kept eye contact from across the room, while your brother sitting a foot away. ‘Sorry, I spaced out,’ you laughed and took a sip of your wine.

'You spend too much of your time with us,' Max sighed and looked at Daniel for his agreement.

‘Max,’ you chuckled, ‘You guys are my best friends, and you’re also my brother, why wouldn’t I spend time with you?’ You asked.

‘I’m just saying, you’re with us all the time. And when you’re not you’re always in your room or by yourself,’ Max stated like it was fact. Daniel let out a quick laugh at the idea of you always being ‘alone’ when he knew where you really were.

This time you kicked him, ‘And what’s wrong with that?’

‘Darling we can’t be your only friends,’ Daniel teased. You shot him a deadpanned look and pretended to laugh.

‘I’m serious!’ Max looked almost offended that you and Daniel weren’t taking it as seriously as he was. Both of you immediately turned to him and looked concerned. ‘Daniel has Heidi, I have Kelly, you’re not getting any younger and you don’t have anyone.’

Your mouth was agape, did he just call you old? Daniel couldn’t hold his laughter in anymore and in classic honey badger style, he bursted out and was laughing so hard he couldn’t breath.

‘Max, I can assure you, you don’t have to worry about me.’ You tried to calm this conversation and put it to an end.

Much to your chagrin it didn’t really end. Max went on for a little while longer and you couldn’t have wished to not be there any more. When he finally got up to go to the bathroom, you slumped down in your chair.

Daniel was trying to get his breath back and was drinking his water. 'What was that? Max never cared about my love life!' You pinched your nose bridge and put your head down on the table.

'Why don't you just tell him? It's been four years, I don't think its too fresh anymore.'

'Oh yeah like it's that easy, 'Oh hey Max! I've been dating the Team Principal of Mercedes for years now, i just never told you!' You pretended to smile and used the fakest high pitched voice you had.

'You sarcastic little girl, it's not that big a deal. If you love each other, what's the big deal?'

'Okay don't call me a little girl you're like a few years older than me. Ugh, I miss the days when we had a PR relationship for publicity. No one asked me about my love life back then,' You groaned and took an even larger sip of your wine, the cup almost empty now.

'Just eat your food and stop sulking. You're secretly dating tall, dark, handsome, and hunky, like your life is so hard. Poor Romeo and Juliet.’ Daniel cut a piece off his steak and went back to eating. 'You're leading the championship and getting dicked down-‘

'Daniel!'

•••

You were all at Silverstone now. You just finished qualifying and the feelings were mixed. Max had unfortunately not done as well, but 6th wasn’t horrible. He was sure to make it up.

You were on your way back to your hotel when you got a message from Toto. Unfortunately for him, Lewis and George struggled a little more than they’d prefer. Toto had asked the front desk for an extra key to his room and had given it you prior. He wanted a bit of comfort tonight. He already let out his anger in the garage earlier, he would need another headset for tomorrow, and he wanted you to spend the night. you told him you’d be right over as soon as you were ready.

So a shower and an outfit change later, you were running over to his room and sliding the room key in as quick as you could. You always had to make sure no one saw when either of you went to the others room, so you’d gotten fairly good at it over the years.

As soon as you closed and locked the door, behind you came a pair of arms what wrapped themselves quickly around your waist. ‘Oh, meine liebe,’ the arms sighed in the crook of your neck.

‘Hello my darling,’ you leaned backwards onto the strong chest of your boyfriend and rested one hand around his neck, where his head was pressing kisses on yours. ‘How are you?’

He spun you around in his arms so he could rest his forehead on top your head. ‘Qualifying was piss poor, it seems we can’t get out of 7th and 8th.’

‘If it makes you feel any better, Alonso hasn’t been doing too well these last races. If Lewis manages to move even a few places the gap will tightens between them.’ You rubbed your hands up and down his back, trying yo offer some comforting words.

‘How can you be so impartial?’ He pressed a long kiss to your lips. ‘We’re from rival teams, shouldn’t you pray for our downfall?’ he kissed you again.

This time when he started to pull away you went to your tippy toes chasing after him, ‘We can both succeed without hurting the other.’ One of your hands was behind his neck, the other in his hair. ‘Well, so long as I’m winning.’ Each time he kissed you grew more passionate and desperate than the last. Neither of you had even realized that you’d walked backwards onto the bed until Toto’s legs hit the frame and you both fell.

After his back hit the mattress and you braces yourself on his chest you both erupted into laughter. You laid with your head and arms in his chest as he put one behind his head so he could see you properly. ‘It’s only a good race if you win darling,’ the look in his eyes was so intense you could feel your whole body get hotter.

Your ears grew red as you two kept the silence and just, stared. ‘I love you,’ you softly said.

‘I love you,’ his thick accented voice soothed your heart and made it swell four times the size.

‘I wish we didn’t have to keep everything so secret,’ you uttered in a sort of defeated tone.

‘Meine liebe, I’d get all those silly little social media apps just to tell the whole world about us if you asked.’ He sat up, and pulled you with him into an upright position. You were straddling his lap, arms around his waist, as he pulled you in for a deep kiss, all in an effort to emphasize his love for you.

You would be lying if you said you didn’t like it when he held you like you weighed nothing. At eye level with him now, you couldn’t hold back anymore and jumped at his face. You kissed him so quickly and deeply you could’ve sworn he gasped. You nibbled on his lip and he let out a groan that you immediately swallowed, the sound only sending you into hyperdrive. Your intensity fueled him and you both became hungry for each other. Hands roaming and bodies moving in sync with each other.

His hands gripped your thighs and you tightened your legs around his waist. Once again, like you weight nothing, he took advantage of your tightening around him and lifted you up so he could further up the bed. Not once did you disconnect from each other as the night began to escalate.

He laid you down on your back and hovered over you, only a mere few inches from laying on you. Lips swollen and eyes dilated in lust you uttered ‘I love yours’ once more before connecting your lips for what feels like the tenth time that night.

All you were was a mess of sweaty skin, hushed breaths and some of the most explicit sounds that would make anyone blush. Nights like these, we’re you were able to care for each other and pretend the world outside didn’t exist were your favorite. Nights where you two could just be in love, not Mercedes Team Principal and Red Bulls Golden Girl.

Nights like these where you were Romeo and Juliet, fighting against your families and becoming your own.

•••

It was the last lap of Silverstone and adrenaline was running high. Your father had shown up to this race which already put you in a sour mood, you just wanted him to leave. You had Lando pushing behind you, granted the gap was 11.63 seconds but you wanted it to stay that way. Your only goal now was to get fastest lap to really tie it in. All these years later and you were still desperate for your father to see how good you were. See how you did it all by yourself.

You knew that behind Lando was Max, and even though you would always wish the best for the papaya boy, you knew that if max couldn’t overtake Jos would not be happy. His permanently disappoint disposition still hurt Max and it hurt you to see it.

Tension was running high as the race was coming to a close. There wasn’t a sound you could hear besides your own heart and you crossed the finish line. Lando followed behind and Max just .01 of a second behind him. It was close, and you were just so happy for both of them that you didn’t care if your brother didn’t overtake him.

When the final lap was over and you parked your car, the first thing you did was take off your helmet and look at the crowds. Amongst the cheering crowds, McLaren going wild and Red Bull screaming at the top of their lungs you watched as your brother pulled into the third spot and got out. Max made eye contact with your father and you could watch his heart break. Although he had preformed so well Jos was never pleased.

This ignited something in your veins. You watched him cross his arms and stand silently in the crow of cheering Red Bulls, the cameras showing off the orange army going insane in the bleachers. Yet somehow, the happiness couldn’t rub off on him.

You were tired of him.

You couldn’t take a single second of his attitude anymore.

So with all your courage and fire, you arm over to where Mercedes had piled off to the side. Your pushing through the crowds caught the cameras attention and all eyes were on you.

There in that second there was only one thought in your head. One idea: and you were going to follow through. You always do. You found Toto looking around shocked and confused as to why you were right in front of him. And in that second, you kissed him.

You brought both of your hands up to cup his face and you smashed your lips against his. As if the world melted around you his hands found your hips and the two of you were pushing so hard into each other, it was hard to tell where you ended and he started.

Just like the night before, you were one. You weren’t Mercedes v. Red Bull. You were boy and girl, hopelessly in love.

The crowd and gone silent.

You two pulled away ever so slightly, foreheads rested against the others as Toto supported your weight so you didn’t have to strain your feet too much to reach him. Despite just hard launching your relationship without any kind of talking about it before hand, the two lovers embraced each other.

‘The world knows now,’ he whispered in your ear.

‘Let them.’ You smiled as you hugged him tighter. ‘I love you.’

‘I love you.’ he whispered back.

Cheers and whoops erupted around you. Despite the initial shock of your relationship people were just happy. It was a good race with an even better surprise at the end, how could they complain?

The two of you pulled apart and smiled at each other, the world so unused to swing Toto so domestic and soft. You have him one more hot kiss before walking back to do the post race interview and award ceremony.

‘I guess she isn’t so alone, huh..’ Max looked star struck as Daniel laughed and patted him on the back.

You walked back and Jos was furious at your vulgar and inappropriate display. You’d never seen him so mad. It made you audibly laugh.

You put your Rub Bull cap on and walked right up to David Coulthard and smiled, waiting to start the questions.

‘Well that was something,’ He laughs in a slightly awkward manor. ‘Can I assume there’s something going on between you two?’

‘We’ve been dating for a while, I love him.’ You never smiled brighter.

‘A congratulations is in order then, for the race and for your love!’ He barked out in laughter as you thanked him and giggled.

Your eyes never left Toto, even as the anthems played and the trophies were handed out. Even as you sprayed each other with champagne and celebrated. Neither of you looked away. The smiles so evident on your faces and that in love glow never left. At that moment, neither of you cared about the repercussions that would follow. The PR mess and the scolding from Christian. It was just you two, in love.

The love you shared didn’t have to be bottled anymore. You two didn’t have to hide anymore, you could be together freely and honestly. That was all you wanted in life. To be with your love, in love, with no secrets or shame. You loved each other and that was all that mattered.

fin.

#toto wolff x reader #toto wolff #formula 1 #f1 imagine #f1 #reader insert #max verstappen #red bull f1 #daniel ricciardo #my fic #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 fiction #f1 x oc #f1 x female driver #f1 x female reader #mercedes amg f1 #red bull racing

2K notes · View notes

corroded-hellfire · 4 months ago

Text

Prompt Day 3: Best Friends

Word Count: 893

Rating: G

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

CW: Language

Summary: Part of the As You Wish universe! A conversation between kids leads to an interesting conversation between Eddie and his former bandmates.

@corrodedcoffinfest

[As You Wish masterlist]

There isn’t a cloud in the sky, giving the sun plenty of opportunity to smile down on the Fourth of July Barbeque you and Eddie are throwing. This is the first time you’re hosting a party in your new house and it’s going pretty well, if you do say so yourself.

The worst of the day’s heat had burned off and Eddie just lit the grill to get it all warmed up and ready to go. He closes the lid and makes his way back over to the outdoor table that his old bandmates are all sitting around.

It wasn’t often that they all got to get together since everyone had their own lives and families these days, but it made those rare times all the more fun.

“Should be ready soon,” Eddie says as he plops back down in his chair. The hot concrete of the patio is too much for his bare feet, so he picks them up and rests them on one of the supportive bars under the table. From where he’s seated, Eddie can see through the cutout window on the back door, into the kitchen where Max and Gareth’s wife, Tammy, are getting all the food ready to be brought outside.

Eddie would be the one doing most of the grilling, but Max insisted on grilling the corn on the cob because Eddie was notorious for burning it.

“How was the drive up here?” Frank asks Jeff before taking a sip from his beer can.

“Not bad,” Jeff says with the shake of his head. “Most of the traffic was going the other way. Guess not many people were coming into Hawkins for Fourth of July.”

Just as Eddie is about to remark on the fun Fourth of Julys they’d had as teens in Hawkins, a small voice whines from the ground next to him.

“Theo!” Danny Harrington huffs, dropping the piece of green chalk he was coloring on the concrete with. “Luke said I could draw the tree!”

“You can draw one here,” Luke says, leaning closer to the younger boy and pointing to a blank space on the patio.

“Don’t be such a baby,” Theo says to his brother.

“Theo, be nice,” Eddie scolds his nephew.

Steve is over at the kiddie pool, kneeling by its side while his daughter Mia, three-year-old Tiffany Sinclair, and Jeff’s five-year-old son Brian splash around. Nancy is on the other side of the yard, playing cornhole with you, Ryan, Natalie, Jeff’s oldest daughter Candace, Gareth’s daughter Lynna, and Frank’s girlfriend Sara. Eddie knew they’d thank him for squashing a potential squabble between their boys had they heard it.

The eldest Harrington boy sighs. “Danny’s just mad ‘cause Luke is my best friend and not his.”

“I said you’re both my best friends,” Luke says, not looking up from the drawing of a fish he was etching.

“I think you can only have one,” Jeff’s middle child, seven-year-old Jasmine, says, scanning through the pieces of chalk to determine what color she should use next.

“That’s not true,” Luke says, finally pausing his drawing. He lets the orange slab of chalk roll out of his hand and turns his body to look at his father. “Daddy, your best friend is Uncle Steve. But he wasn’t your best friend in school, right?” Luke didn’t wait for his father to confirm. “Who was your best friend in high school?”

“Yeah, Eddie,” Gareth says, a playful smirk growing on his face as he leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Who was your best friend in high school?”

Eddie takes a swig of his beer before responding.

“Didn’t you hear what my boy said? Can have more than one.”

“I bet it was my daddy,” Jasmine says absentmindedly as she continues her drawing.

Her comment makes Frank and Gareth chuckle.

“Aww, Jazzy! You don’t think I was Uncle Eddie’s best friend?” Gareth asks the little girl.

“No.”

Her bluntness makes all four men at the table laugh, and Frank has to cover his mouth to avoid spitting out his beer.

“Who was it, Uncle Eddie?” Theo asks.

The three other former Corroded Coffin members look at Eddie with expectant faces, amusement gleaming in each of their eyes.

Eddie wasn’t used to being the one to answer questions as their former DM—he was the one who told them what was what back then.

“Nancy,” Eddie finally says. His asshole friends were having fun messing with him, then he was going to take the wind out of their sails. “Nancy was my best friend in high school.”

“No, she wasn’t,” Danny says knowingly.

Jeff, Gareth, and Frank bust out in laughter when the six-year-old calls their friend’s bluff.

A sigh falls from Eddie’s lips, and he drops his head forward in defeat.

“Oh, it’s alright, Eddie,” Gareth says, leaning back in his chair once more. His fingers wrap around the neck of his beer bottle and as he brings it up towards his mouth he adds, “We all know your best friend was O’Donnell.”

Jeff throws back his head and cackles in laughter while Frank’s rumbling laugh goes on so long that it turns into a coughing spell.

Eddie shakes his head and rolls his eyes skyward.

“You know,” Eddie says, voice dripping in sarcasm, “it’s such a shame we all don’t get together more.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #corrodedcoffinfest #older!eddie #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagine #AYW #AYWS #CCF

156 notes · View notes

idkwhatimdoinghere1655 · 1 year ago

Text

Birthday Buddies - Max Verstappen

"OK Maxie, here you go," you said, handing him the envelope with his name scrawled on the front. "Thank you, my love," he smiled, running his fingers under the flap to open it. He eyed you suspiciously as he didn't see a card in the envelope, instead seeing a folded piece of paper.

Unfolding it, he saw the words written on the page. 'Max, as you know, today is your birthday! You're 26, and have already achieved so much, and I am so proud of you! To find your gift, you have to use your brain a bit... So, your first clue is the place we went on our first date,'

"Making me use my brain... Honestly, my love?" he sighed.

"Yes, now, take me to where we had our first date," you smugly smirked. Max figured he may as well play along. You had planned it all out, and he already knew you had put a lot of effort into it. Plus, it was your birthday too, so he had to listen to you just as much as you listened to him.

"OK, OK, follow me," Max smiled, taking your hand and leading you out of your apartment. He took you through the winding streets of Monaco, the sun slowly setting over the city. You arrived outside of a small cafe that he took you to, because it was out of the way of the world and you could get to know each other, without the prying eyes of the world on you.

"Good job Max, you have unlocked the next clue!" You smiled, handing him another, identical envelope as he opened it. "So you could just let me skip straight to the end, but you're choosing not to?"

"Where's the fun in that? I thought it would be fun to take a trip down memory lane," you said, the both of you remembering the magic that was your first night out. Max thought it was a nice idea, since you had done a lot together since you had started going out, and these were definitely some of his favourites.

He thought he had blown it after your first date, since he was a stuttering, babbling mess due to how much he liked you. He could barely hold a conversation without being gobsmacked that you were there with him.

He just couldn't get over how much he liked you, but he thought he had ruined any chances with you. Little did he know, you found it endearing how nervous he was. "Yeah, I guess it is fun," he nodded, unfolding the next piece of paper.

'Well done, but you're not quite near the finish line yet. Next spot: Where did we have our first kiss?' he read outloud. "You really have to make this a bit harder, these are too easy," he shook his head, taking your hand again.

It wasn't too far away from the cafe, and it was out on the marina. Some of the boats had their lights on, and the buildings behind you were also lighting up. "You're not in the right spot, hang on," he said, placing his hands on the sides of your arms and shifting you so you were stood by the exact palm tree on the marina yacht club walk.

"There, we are in the perfect spot," he said, standing in front of you. He remembered gazing at you as you looked out on all of the boats, your eyes glittering under the marina lights. You were entranced by the way the sea sparkled, and how the boats gently bobbed on the surface of the water.

There was no resisting the urge to kiss you when you noticed him staring, and it was the best decision he had ever made. He drowned in the feeling of holding you close, getting to have his lips against yours. It was like sparks flew whenever he touched you.

"Yes we are, meaning you get the next clue," you smiled, the memories making you feel drunk with happiness. "OK, this is kind of a two in one," you told him, fishing the next envelope out of your bag.

'You can't have possibly forgotten this one, because I know I can't, and I don't think you'll ever let me! Take me to the first place that you told me you love me...' he read, a smirk dancing on his lips. "Oh I will never forget this one," he smiled, grabbing your arm.

You were almost reluctant to put this as a clue, since it was a bittersweet memory. Max had taken you to the most beautiful restaurant you had ever seen, and it was still one you frequented now.

Then, he had taken you on a short walk around the streets of Monaco, before stopping you at a bench by the sea. He was so nervous, since he was about to tell you his feelings. You, on the other hand, were nervous because you were sure you were going to throw up.

You had felt off all day, but you weren't going to cancel on Max, so you just grinned and bore it. But now, your actions were proving to have consequences. As Max stopped you by the bench, you remembered every little detail of the events that unfolded.

He sat you down, just like he did two years ago, and took your hands. As the both of you thought back to that night, it was as if it were yesterday. Max looked beyond nervous as he looked at you, terrified you weren't going to feel the same way.

Current Max started to stutter, reenacting the moment. "So, Y/N, I... Uhm-" he fumbled, jittering around just like he did. "I love you," he blurted out, and you could have sworn you were back there. "I-" you started, before turning around and pretending to wretch into the bin behind you.

In the memory, Max didn't care that he could have just ruined everything and simultaneously embarrassed himself, he just cared that you were OK. He rushed to your side, before sitting you back down.

Now, he said the exact same line he had said, "Me saying I love you wasn't that bad, was it?" he said, and it caused a smile to form on your face both times. "I do love you Max, I just feel awful," you said, leaning into him like you always did.

"That was a weird night," he smiled.

"It was. I was surprised you still loved me after that one, it was the worst timing possible," you laughed, looking at his dazzling smile. "I couldn't fall out of love with you for something so small, I was just relieved you felt the same, my love," he said, waiting for the next clue.

"Next up, the penultimate clue," you said, handing him the final of the normal envelopes for the night. 'Since it's your birthday, it wouldn't be a birthday treasure hunt without sending you to the place where we found out we have the same birthday!'

"This has been the easiest treasure hunt I have ever been on," he smirked, walking off and expecting you to follow him. You had picked all the spots quite close together, so that you wouldn't have to walk too far.

"OK, here we are," he said, just stopping in the middle of the street. It had simply come up in conversation when you were walking and talking, and the two of you were both shocked, but also excited.

Ever since, you both went all out to have the best day the both of you could ask for. "Any reason you sent us here or?" he asked, rocking back and forth on the spot.

"No, I just thought it was relevant," you shrugged, producing the final envelope of the excursion. "This one might be harder for you, but I don't know," you told him, handing him the golden object. 'Finally, take me to the place where I first fell in love with you,' it said.

Max looked confused, and you could see the cogs turning in his mind. "I would have remembered if you had told me where this was," he said, not moving from the spot as he thought.

"Would you like a lifeline? You can phone a friend, take the bonus clue, or have me point you in the right direction," you told him.

"I'll take the bonus clue," he decided, waiting for whatever it was going to be.

"You have selected: 'Y/N's Bonus Clue!'" you enthusiastically said, revealing a blue envelope with a big, orange question mark adorning the front. "Thank you, my love," he smiled, opening the envelope and looking more confused.

'We've already been here today...' he read to you, taking a moment to think. It could have been any of them, really, but he went for the one he thought would be most likely. "OK, follow me," he skeptically said, taking you back to the marina yacht club walk, next to the palm tree where you had shared your first kiss.

"Unfortunately, that is the first one you have gotten wrong today. You can still use one of your life lines, those being phone a friend or have me point you in the right direction," you told him, glad you hadn't made it too easy on him. "I'll phone a friend," he said.

"Alright then, phone a friend it is," you said, pulling your phone out of your bag and dialing a mystery number. Well, it was a known number, but you had changed the contact name to mystery number. "I thought it was phone a friend?" he said, taking the phone from you.

"It is," you nodded as if it were obvious, the mystery person picking up on the other end of the line. "Hi, this is Max, I'm doing Y/N's treasure hunt, and I'm stuck on the last clue. I've been told you might be able to help me?" he asked, feeling positively ridiculous.

"Hi, yes I can," the person tried not to burst out laughing, "You need to take her to the place where you first figured out she was the person you wanted to spend your life with," he laughed, remembering when Max had told him that. He had found it unbelievably cheesy, yet sweet at the same time.

"OK, thank you Lan- I mean mystery person, I appreciate it," Max giggled, now knowing where to take you. "Right, off we go," he said, leading you to the final destination. He was hoping the mystery person wasn't wrong, because that would be embarrassing.

"Here we are," he hummed, stopping you back outside the cafe that was your first place. "I think the mystery caller sent me to the wrong place," he sheepishly said, rubbing the back of his neck. Surely you hadn't loved him since your first date, right?

"No, you're at the right spot," you reassured, letting him figure it all out in his head. "What was the clue, Max?" you prompted.

"The place you first fell in love with me," he recited, the pieces still not fitting together in his mind. "And where are we?"

"The place we had our first date?" he said, and it sounded more like a question due to his unsurity. "Exactly, because I've always loved you. Even if I couldn't put a name to how I felt back then, now I know it was just because I had never loved anyone as much as I love you," you smiled.

"Thank you, my love, that was beautiful," he smiled, trying to contain tears at how much your words had touched him. "As for your gift, it's back at home," you said, and nothing happened. "I said, as for your gift, it's back at home!" you shouted, craning your neck so your voice would carry further around the corner.

A man appeared from around the corner, a hood pulled up over his eyes. He dropped something by your feet, and you picked it up. "Sorry, excuse me, you dropped this," you said, but the man kept on walking. "Well isn't that strange," you said, handing him the black, leather book that the man had dropped.

"It is, isn't it?" Max joined in, catching onto the act. He ran opened the cover, immediately realising what this was. It was a photo album, with all the pictures you had taken at those spots you had sent him to today, as well as others from other good times.

He ran his fingers over your features, noting how you hadn't changed at all in the two years you had been together. "There's not much you can do for a man who has it all," you smiled, hoping he liked it. "You're right, I do have it all, I have you," he said, cringing at himself internally.

However, you couldn't hide the goofy smile and blush that tinted your cheeks. "But this is the best gift you could have gotten me besides yourself," he said, flicking through the pages upon pages of memories, forever recorded through colour.

"I'm glad you like it," you grinned.

"Now come on, birthday girl, let's get you home," he smiled, tucking the album underneath his arm, looping the other around your waist as he lead you home. When you got to the door of your apartment, you noticed it was open.

"I swore I locked this when we left..." You said, worried. You didn't want your birthdays to be ruined by someone breaking into your home. "Yeah, you did," he reassured, but he was awful at hiding the smirk on his face.

Pushing the door open, you saw that the room was lit up in nothing but candles, and relaxing spa music was playing. "I didn't take you to a single spa while we've been globe trotting, so I thought the least you deserved was the at home Spa de Max," he explained, pushing you through the door.

"Well I already think Spa de Max is better than any spa you could take me anywhere else," you told him, walking into the apartment. "I hope to live up to your expectations, so, go put this on, and your masseuse will be with you when you are ready," he said, handing you a fluffy white robe - just like in a spa.

"OK," you zealously nodded, excited for what Max had in store. You did just as he had said, changing out of your clothes and into the robe. When you got back out to the living room, you saw the dining room table in the middle of the room, with what looked to be a mattress topper on top.

"Trust me on this, it is actually very comfy," Max said, standing beside the table. "On you get," he told you, and you clambered onto the table. "May I?" he said, slipping his hands into the robe by your shoulders. "Yeah, course," you agreed, letting him slip the soft fabric off your shoulders, and leaving the rest handing on you hips.

"Lie on your front for me, my love," he said, as you maneuvered onto your front, resting your head on your arms. "Now just close your eyes, and relax," he instructed. Max dabbed some essential oils on his hands, before running them over the span of your back.

As he worked his hands into your muscles, you were trying not to fall asleep. "How did you know we'd be going out?" you asked, wondering how he had managed to sneak someone in to set the house up.

"Because your little helper is also my little helper. He told me we'd be leaving, so I sent him to set all of this up. But, don't worry, he didn't tell me a single detail about what we'd be doing," he reassured you, knowing you wouldn't want the surprise to be ruined.

"Our helper has been a busy boy," you slurred, trying to keep yourself awake by talking.

"Aww my love, are you tired?" he teased, moving his hands up your neck and across your shoulders. "This is just so nice," you mumbled against your arms.

"Don't fall asleep just yet, you still have a few more experiences in Spa de Max," he said, his hands ceasing their movements. "That'll be hard to beat," you said, sitting up on the table. "Fine, I'll take that as a challenge," he smiled,

When you stood off the table, Max pulled your robe back up and over your shoulders, tying the belt back up to keep you warm. "Tonight is finally the night I will allow you to put a face mask on me," he said, pushing you onto the couch and sitting next to you.

"Really?!" You asked, gobsmacked. For some reason, Max had plainly refused to put on a face mask whenever you did, but now was your opportunity. "Yes, anything for the birthday girl," he smiled, even if it was his birthday too. The best gift for him was seeing you happy, after all.

You tugged your headband out of your hair, slotting it onto his head as his blonde strands were pushed back out of his face. On the coffee table, Max had differents pots of face masks with pre-sliced cucumbers to choose from. "Which one?" he asked.

"I'll go for blue," you nodded as he picked up the blue pot, unscrewing the lid. Max just dipped his fingers in, practically slapping the thick substance onto your face. He slathered it around until he thought he had covered enough of the area.

"Max, you have put it on so thickly, it'll never dry," you whined, seeing half the container was gone, meaning half was on your face. "Just means you'll be extra refreshed," he smiled, picking up the green pot and handing it to you.

You did the exact same to him, slathering more than two thirds of it onto his face, before trying to put the cucumber slices on his eyes. Before you could, he pulled you in for an affectionate kiss. "Happy birthday, my love," he smiled, tucking some of your hair behind your ear.

"Happy birthday to you too, Max, I love you,"

A/N - Happy birthday to Maxie! And to me so I guess that's fun... Have a great day!

|masterlist|

544 notes · View notes

vinvantae · 1 year ago

Text

Unmasked

14/16

<<< previous part

Word count: 3.9k

A/N: Big thanks to my girl @formulaforza for not only making one of the edits for me but for beta-reading and helping me make this chapter as good as it can be. Love u ❤️ x

*************************************************

It was uncomfortably warm when you arrived in Spain, humid and sweaty and sticky - you still hadn’t managed to pull what Max and the others had planned out of your boyfriend.

Charles had whined half the morning when you refused to hold his hand that day, clammy palms, you claimed, but in reality you were hoping to sneak into the Ferrari hospitality as discreetly as possible.

You trudged through the paddock with your head down, cap covering your face as you head towards your driver’s room. Sometime before dawn, the PR team had sent over the press conference schedule.The FIA had decided to torture you, putting you alongside the four men who hadn’t publicly defended you from the harassment. They didn’t even know that privately, three of them were fully on your team, so it definitely felt like the sport’s governing body had resorted to bullying.

“Cherie, you’ve barely spoken to me this morning,” his voice was soft, a hand on the small of your back as you stepped inside. “Talk to me.”

“Did you see who they’ve put in my press conference?” Your tone matched his, lifting your eyes from the floor. “I think the FIA are on the side of the dickheads, trying to get me to leave.”

He frowned. “Why would you say that?”

“Because. Why else would they put me in a room with four men that they think hate me?” A soft huff left your lips as you chucked your bag down on a seat as the two of you stepped into the privacy of your room - Charles shutting the door with a gentle click. “It’s just plain nasty. As far as they know the four of them think I don’t deserve my seat.”

“Well.” He placed a hand on your shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “They’re going to kick themselves when they learn the truth.”

You frowned. “What truth? I don’t know what I’m walking into this morning…”

“Trust me. It’s going to be okay.”

You want to believe him, but it’s terrifying going into what would mostly likely be a room full of men who were expecting you to be absolutely tortured by your rivals. You knew the boys had good intentions but not knowing what those intentions were made your stomach flip. Instead of responding to Charles, you gave him a hasty peck on the lips before heading out to said media duties.

It was still fairly quiet around the paddock - not too many people flaunting their VIP passes this early in the weekend, so it was easy to slip through without too much hassle. You’re only stopped once by a group of girls who were all very kind and only asked for autographs. “I can’t believe they’ve put you in a press conference with those little bitches. How hard is it to put out a post saying they support you?”

Your cheeks flushed a soft pink. “It’s kind of hard to explain but Max, Pierre and Esteban do have my back they’re just… I don’t know, I know as little as you.”

“Well, best of luck, y/n. We’ve got your back if you need to teach them a thing or two.” One of them grinned.

Moments like this reminded you exactly of why you wanted to be a driver in the first place. You wanted to be the woman that others looked to for inspiration. You tried to remind yourself of this when a small gaggle of men leered at you as you continued making your way to the conference. They didn’t matter. They’d never matter. And if you were about to walk into a meeting with no back-up then you’d have to remember who exactly you were fighting for.

For the little girl who was watching her very first race, squished between Mum and Dad on the sofa and seeing someone like her amongst the 20 best drivers in the world.

For the teenager who hid under her sheets at 3am to watch races just to see her idol cross the line and wish that maybe it could be her one day.

And for all the women who never got the chance to race, believing they’d never be able to - finally seeing a woman achieve greatness in a sport that was supposed to be just for men.

You do it for them, for all of them.

You took a deep breath before stepping into the holding room. Immediately, four pairs of eyes were on you. You held your head high, not even sparing a glance towards the ones you considered friends. Just as Max was about to cross the room to speak with you, the door to the press conference swung open and the five of you were ushered into the room.

Max squeezed past you so you were sandwiched between him and Pierre on the sofa. You decided not to question it, just sitting down and taking a deep breath.

Let’s just get this over with.

“Let’s just start by saying Fernando, Esteban, Pierre, Y/N and Max - thank you all for joining us nice and early this morning.”

The five of you all gave various hellos to the room, you shifted uncomfortably in your seat as all of the eyes seemed to be on you. You knew exactly what kind of questions were coming - why else would they have put you in the room with these specific drivers if the debate of you being in the sport wasn’t about to be raised once more.

“We have seen a recent influx of negative responses about y/n being on the grid.” You sat up straighter - prepared to defend yourself. “Most of the grid has shown their support, but the four of you have remained quiet. Of course you don’t owe y/n defence but Max, Pierre and Esteban you’ve raced alongside her since you were children. So is there a reason you’ve chosen to remain quiet?”

“We have something to say actually.” Max cleared his throat. “I know we have disappointed people, especially our female fans, for not speaking out in support of y/n. But the three of us believe that putting a post on instagram is simply not enough. It wasn’t a big enough statement.”

Pierre watched your brow furrow as you listened to Max - he knew the words that were about to come out of the Dutchman’s mouth were going to shock you. He wanted to reach out and put a comforting hand on your shoulder but it would draw too much attention so he simply kept a watchful eye on you.

All eyes in the room followed a member of the Red Bull team as they crossed the room and handed Max a piece of paper. You didn’t get a good look at it before he started to read it.

“As a direct consequence of the FIA’s failure to take sufficient and decisive action in protection of driver 30, Y/n L/n, from the violence and harassment faced since the public reveal of driver 30’s identity, a coalition of drivers have signed a petition.” Your eyes burr into the side of his head, but he doesn’t dare look up from the page. “Led by drivers 1, 10, 16, and 30; Myself, Pierre Gasly, Charles Leclerc, and Esteban Ocon, a total of fourteen drivers have agreed to protest the Spanish Grand Prix, including all media duties, free practices, and competitive sessions, until appropriate measures have been taken to protect driver 30, and any other driver, from life-threatening behaviour. The drivers participating in this protest are as follows; drivers 1, 55, 44, 63, 16, 3, 4, 31, 10, 22, 5, 18, 24, and 77. This statement is being formally filed with the FIA immediately following the conclusion of this press conference. The official outline, along with the signatures of all 14 drivers will hopefully be made public by the FIA. If Y/n wishes to continue taking questions, she is free to. The rest of us retain the right to no comment if we so choose.”

The silence in the room was palpable - no one spoke a word as Max handed the piece of paper to you so you could read the names on the petition. You couldn’t even focus on the words, the room becoming a blur. Protest the race?

“The FIA only has so much power over what people post online, surely you cannot protest a race over that?”

“We are aware of this, but y/n was physically assaulted in the paddock. This should have never been a possibility.” Pierre spoke up next, you blinked hard a couple of times to bring yourself back into the room - your facade you’d put on had been blown, so confused by the fact the grid wanted to protect you so intensely. “The FIA have taken absolutely no action at all after the assault. Should’ve been the first thing they did.”

“Y/n, you look taken aback by this statement. Do you have anything to say?”

You lifted your eyes from the petition to see the entire room staring at you. “I uh… I don’t have words to describe how grateful I am. I tried to talk the guys out of doing anything drastic but the fact that so many of them are willing to stick their necks out to stand up for me like this? I… I’ll forever be in debt to them.”

“Don’t you think it’s a little unfair that they’ll all risk being fined while you have no consequences?”

Max could see your jaw visibly clench and he prepared himself for the worst. “Are you serious? How was I supposed to sign a petition that I didn’t even know existed? I never asked for any of this… if they protest the race, you bet I’ll be with them.”

“We actively chose to not tell y/n about this petition as we knew she would ask us not to do it.” Esteban leant forward as he spoke. “It would not have been fair of us to put this on her shoulders with all of the stuff she’s already dealing with.”

You gave him a gentle, sincere smile before finally taking a moment to read the names on the petition. Some of the names weren’t so shocking but others such as George and Yuki were pleasant surprises. There was only a small handful who hadn’t and you couldn’t help but smile, a stray tear escaping at the fact this grid of men - who had nothing to gain - were willing to face fines and penalties to ensure your safety.

“Well, we eagerly wait to see how the FIA responds, best of luck this weekend. To all of you.”

As soon as you stepped back into the holding room you threw your arms around Max and hugged him tight. “You’re absolutely insane.”

“It had to be drastic to get them to listen.” He chuckled, hugging you back.

“I hope you all know what you are risking.” Fernando finally spoke up after sitting in complete silence for the entire session. “All of this to stop some bullying? It is far too much.”

Esteban scoffed a little. “Do you really think the FIA aren’t going to take action when they see the current and former champions aren’t going to race? Even if they don’t believe in what we are protesting for, the amount of money they stand to lose from this is enough of a threat.”

The two teammates stared each other down, the tension palpable. You hoped Esteban was right, ideally you didn’t want any of the boys to get in trouble for you.

But now it was all in the FIA’s hands.

*******

(Credits to Mack for this ❤️ thank you again)

*******

[Simon Lazenby] -“Hello everyone, welcome to Spain just ahead of Free Practice One. I’m Simon Lazenby and today I’m joined by Martin Brundle, Naomi Schiff and Nico Rosberg. Bit of a strange one here today ladies and gentlemen, isn’t it? Well, I guess we better jump into the biggest news to break this weekend - most of the grid have signed a petition and will currently not be racing or performing media duties this weekend. What do we think?”

[Martin Brundle] - “I have to be honest Simon, I do think it’s all a bit of an overreaction from the drivers. We all get critiques through our career whether it be in person or online, so I think y/n should just get her head down and crack on. The fans came to see a race, it shouldn’t be put on hold just for her.”

[Nico Rosberg] - “I have to disagree with you there Martin. What y/n has been put through since her reveal is unprecedented. We as a sport should be celebrating the fact that a woman is one of the twenty best drivers in the world and I think the drivers standing up for her is wonderful to see.”

[Naomi Schiff] - “I agree with you Nico. None of you will ever really understand what it’s like to be a woman in motorsport - we are held to a much higher standard than any man would ever be.”

[MB] - “But don’t you just think, as a two time champ, that she should have a strong enough head to be able to see past the criticisms?”

[NS] - “It’s not just criticisms, Martin. It’s physical violence and hate speech. Any minority in this sport whether it be y/n, Lewis, Yuki or Guanyu will always have people critiquing things they cannot change about themselves. Sure, someone may have called you a bad driver back in your day, but no one has ever told you to get back in the kitchen or go back to where you came from.”

[SL]- “Branching off from that, as you said, other drivers have received hate speech in the past. How would you all say y/n’s situation is any different?”

[NR] - “Being Lewis’ teammate and even as kids, he went through things similar to what y/n is going through. I think the biggest difference is, we didn’t have someone like Lewis to really show us how wrong it was that he was being treated so differently. Y/n is luckily in an era where she is surrounded by drivers who can see just how important it is to her and female fans that they don’t let things like this get off lightly.”

[NS] - “I think it’s important that the FIA take more protective action for all of our drivers. It is just a shame it’s taken most of the grid threatening a protest for the conversation to even take place. Y/n is a two time WDC and it feels like that has all been forgotten just because she’s a woman - it’s about time that the governing body of the sport take things like this more seriously.”

[SL] - “Now onto the drivers who aren’t protesting the race. We have Fernando Alonso, both Williams drivers and both Haas drivers. Now we have spoken to both Williams and Haas respectively and they say it is a purely financial decision not to let their drivers protest but they stand in solidarity with y/n and the rest of the grid. But Fernando is a bit of a different story.”

[MB] - “Fernando’s very old school. Very level headed about dealing with your criticisms - I guess the same as me. So it’s no surprise that he is not partaking in the protest.”

[NS]- “It is a shame as he is one of the most prolific drivers on the grid but I think the message will stay clear with Lewis, Sebastian and Max all taking a stand this weekend.”

[SL]- “Thank you all. Coming up next, hopefully following some affirmative action from the FIA this morning, is Free Practice One. Stay tuned.”

****

You tapped your foot nervously against the floor as you waited to hear The FIA’s decision. They unsurprisingly had a very quick turnaround of how they were going to respond to the protest and now the fate of the grid was fully in their hands. They could choose to do nothing and everyone takes a fine or they could actually respond.

Charles sat beside you on the sofa, his hand coming to rest on your knee to stop your leg from bouncing. “It’s all going to be okay, y/n. They can’t not do something… there’s only 5 drivers currently racing, the fans would be outraged if that’s what they paid to see.”

“It’s just a lot. I'm just not sure what they can do,” you said, voice meek. You lifted your eyes to meet his gaze. “Like if people want to hurt me they will, y’know?”

He pressed a chaste kiss to your temple. “They have to do something, I’m sure it’s all going to turn out okay.”

Attention was swiftly stolen as the door slowly opened - a small man with a clipboard entered with an unreadable expression on his face. “Can you all please follow me?”

The sound of 15 pairs of footsteps scuffling out of the room echoed through your head, Charles’ warm hand on the small of your back - the heat of his touch seeps through your Ferrari polo. The 15 of you were sat around a boardroom table facing the president of the FIA and half a dozen other high ranking members. It felt much more like they were sentencing you than opening a conversation.

Your heartbeat was loud in your ears as you locked eyes with the man who was about to decide the fate of the grid.

“Thank you all for meeting with us on such short notice. We hope what we have come up with is a solution that is both suitable and protective for both us and all of you so we can get this resolved quickly and avoid any more of the race weekend being missed.”

It was like he rehearsed the informality of it all, trying like a gentle parent to get down to your level before scolding. You see right through it, through him, through this whole smoke and mirrors show.

Charles linked his hand with yours, the feeling of his fingers intertwined against your skin calms you, steadies your half-rapid breathing. You looked at him, studying his profile for just a brief moment before remembering where you were.

“Any assaults, physical or verbal, performed by any individual at a Grand Prix towards any driver or personnel will immediately be banned indefinitely from any sports and events governed by the FIA. As much as we would like to do more about online harassment, that is much out of our hands - we hope you understand. We will put out a statement saying that we do not tolerate hate speech of any kind.”

Your eyes flickered across the room to gauge the reaction of your rivals. They hadn’t told you what they wanted from the FIA but, to you, it seemed like more than enough. Not only did it protect you but it also covered everyone else. You weren’t leading the protest, though, so in the end it wasn’t up to you. “May we have the room?” Sebastian was the one to break the silence, as one of the leaders of the GPDA he wanted to give everyone the time to collect their thoughts and discuss, rather than having one of fifteen feel that they could speak on behalf of everyone.

The president nodded and the men escorted themselves out - everyone’s eyes fell on you. “Why are you all looking at me like that?”

“…what do you think?” Max asked.

“I didn’t start the petition,” you held your hands up defensively. “It’s not up to me.”

George frowned. “Surely you have an opinion though?”

“Of course I do,” a soft sigh left your lips. “But at the end of the day it’s you guys who are sticking your necks out. If you think this enough then say it is. If it’s not, say it’s not.”

Max gave you a gentle smile, placing a hand on your shoulder as he stood up. “As much as I’d like for them to take more preventative action rather than reactive - I think it’s the most realistic solution and I’m ready to end the protest.”

“Everyone agree? If so then I can get them to write up the decision and we can all get back to doing what we love best, right?” Sebastian hummed, trying to dissipate some of the tension in the room.

A chorus of agreement echoed through the room and you felt like you could finally relax. It had been the longest few hours of your life and as grateful as you were for all of these men to have your back - it would be nice to put it behind you and not have them get in any more trouble.

After the formalities were all done and dusted, a final consensus reached between the drivers and the FIA, it was over. You were finally able to watch them all get back in the cars and do what they all do best.

The next few days felt like a blur, between being ushered from interview to interview about the protest and putting your best foot forward during your time in the car - you barely had a moment to breathe. But after Ferrari achieved a 1-2 start during qualifying, it really felt like the weekend had started over fresh.

“You ready?” Charles approached you on the starting grid, his helmet dangling from his fingers.

You gave him an excited smile. “Yeah, I’m so glad everyone gets to race. I was worried there for a second.”

The softening of his gaze made your heart skip a beat. With his free hand he reached up and cupped your jaw in his hand - brushing a thumb across your skin. “You’re worth it…”

As he lent in, you felt your breath catch in your throat but just before his lips met yours he ducked to the side to whisper in his ear. “But I will beat you in this race, Cherie.”

“I’d like to see you try.” You teased, placing a hand in the centre of his chest to push him back. “I’m on pole for a reason, no?”

“Touché. Bonne chance.”

This time he did kiss you, only for a moment - but long enough to ignite the adrenaline inside you before stepping away to get ready for the race. You shook off the nerves before hopping into the cockpit, anxious to get going.

A small part of you felt a little guilty that you’d qualified ahead of these men who’d helped you but the championship came first. You had to start pumping out results if you wanted to win and knowing now that the FIA was doing their part to protect you - you could focus on what’s important.

And as the green lights began to flash you took one more deep breath before focusing on the clear road ahead.

Somewhere, a little girl’s eyes are glued to her television screen, to your helmet and the infamous red car. For her, for all of the versions of her, it was time to win this race.

******

Next part >>>

Sorry for the delay on this one! Writers block hit me hard 😭 hope you enjoyed! One more thank u to @formulaforza for helping me, couldn’t have done it without you ❤️

Want to be notified when I post? Join our discord, head over to #reaction-roles and click the sunflower 🌻

#f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 #charles leclerc #formula one #x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader

402 notes · View notes

joelslegalwhre · 2 years ago

Note

Hey!! was just looking to request a little something, if you don't want to/don't have the time I don't mind.

So, like a Max V x Reader where reader is Toto's daughter. Reader and Toto doesn't have a good relationship because she isn't very interested in the Mercedes team and after a petty fight he kicks her out of the house, max hears them fighting (they're in the paddock) and offers to host reader and as time goes, they start to build a relationship and then everyone finds out about it. Also if it could take place under the 2021 season. 🏎️🤍

*sips on dr pepper* Alright Toto my beloved, it‘s time to be a bitch

Thank u sm for the request anon! I made some small changes to the plot but nothing major xx

Paddock Pass pt.1

pairing: max verstappen x fem!reader, dad!toto wolff x fem!reader

word count: 1.6k

summary: After Toto takes your paddock pass, Max comes to your rescue. You didn‘t think that rescue would lead to something much bigger. (Pls trust me this is good, I just suck at summaries)

warnings: angst, fighting, bad dad-daughter dynamics, fluff, mutual pining turning into more, use of Y/N one time, not really proofread (anything else? Tell me if I missed something)

Masterlist || taglist || part one || part two || part three

There wasn't a year when you hadn't attended at least half of the grand prix. And this year was no different.

Your job allowed you to work from everywhere you liked, so it was the perfect opportunity to follow your dads team around the world.

The Mercedes Formula One team was something you’d consider family.

You knew everyone by name, some of them knew you since you were only a few years old, attending your first races.

But you never cared for the strategies, the way the cars worked, or anything in that field.

You were here for the excitement of the races, the familiarity and the people. The drivers, the mechanics, the strategists or the people working for the media… they were close to your heart, and you couldn't imagine not being part of this world.

Even if you weren't the least bit interested in the details; you knew everything about the sport, you just didn't want to go into detail why the car would work better if you added this thing to whatever part of the car that your dad had explained to you so many times.

But Toto Wolff would not understand that. And he made it very clear.

In his eyes, you should be just as interested in all aspects of the sport. To be like him, you thought.

„You know what, Dad? Shocker, but not everyone shares your fucking interests and cares for them as much as you do!"

You've never talked to him like that, but you've had enough. "I know I'm not the daughter you'd like to have," you continued, „I really don't care about the aerodynamics of Lewis‘ car and how it's different to Valtteris'! I simply don't care!"

You felt hot tears burning in your eyes, but you managed to blink them away. Barely, but he didn't have to see them. "They all know that," these damn tears wouldn't stop, you thought, "Everyone except for you, Dad.

The disappointment in your voice was clear as day, "Why do you even take me with you, when you don't just accept me as I am?" Your lips were pressed in a tight line, the tears still on the verge of falling.

"You're right." Toto said in the coldest voice you might've ever heard from him, his accent thick, „I don't have to drag you with me anywhere, you're an adult after all. But I also don't have to give you access to the paddock, nor to the garage or anywhere else."

You clenched your teeth, hard. He just had to snap his fingers and your all access pass was worth nothing. You couldn't enter the paddock, couldn’t go anywhere else. And he knew, clear as day, that you couldn't just take a plane back home. You needed the money to pay your rent and couldn't just waste it on a plane ticket that was way too expensive.

But you wouldn't give in this time, no, if he wanted to punish you for telling him the truth, fine. But he couldn't just humiliate you like he did right now. You grabbed the all access pass hanging from your neck and shoved it in his hand. "Take it then." you said, your voice matching his cold tone.

Max was hearing every part of it. He'd noticed your voice just before he walked past the Mercedes facility, stopping dead in his tracks when he heard the tone of your words. The voice he had heard so many times, the kindness you always spoke with. All gone. And then Toto's. Just as horribly cold. The two of you were standing between the facilities, so he pretended to be on his phone answering someone, so he could wait in front of his own facility.

"Take it then." he heard you say in a bitter tone, and just a moment later, you walked past him. He could tell that you were upset. Hell, everyone could've. The way you almost ran out of the paddock and tried to blink away the tears - of sadness, anger, or possibly both, he couldn't tell - it was obvious. Max waited another moment, and when he saw Toto returning to the Mercedes facility, he quickly followed you.

He had to quicken his pace, due to your fast steps. Some were curiously watching where he wanted to be so quickly, but he didn't notice them, just trying to catch up to you. "Hey," he called after you, "wait for me!"

You didn't hear him, and even if you did, you wouldn't think he'd meant you. It was when he called out your name, that you finally turned around.

"Thank you." he said, taking a deep breath. He stopped right at your side. "Ehm," you looked at him in utter confusion, still trying not to be obvious of your emotions. "Can I help you, Max?"

You haven't seen him, when you walked past the Red Bull building, too focused on what to do now.

„Uhm, yeah, I mean… Can we find a-„ he looked around, “a more private place to talk?”

His gaze was filled with sincerity and softness. You needed a second to answer him. „Uhm, yes. Of course.“ you quietly said.

“Great.” Max gently took your wrist and led you to a more secluded place between two facilities. The grip he had on your wrist turned into him sliding his hand in yours. It didn‘t surprise you how the skin where he had touched you tingled, the feeling of your hand in his a feeling you could never quite explain. It was childish, but ever since he started driving for Red Bull, you had a crush on him. You obviously never told your Dad or anyone else about it, hell would've broken loose if you did.

“I was actually heading out of the paddock,“ you started, “I don't have a pass anymore.”

His lack of confusion or surprise to that made you draw your brows together, and then he simply answered, „I know.”

“So what are you-„ you started, but he interrupted you, “I know it's not the most gentlemen thing to do, but I heard all of the-“ he thought for a second, “discussion, between you and your Dad.” he ended.

That actually made you smile a little, he tried his best to be as gentle as possible and you appreciated it. „It’s okay, Max. I guess everyone kind of heard us.” you sighed, „We had a fight, and he kicked me out.” a bitter smile formed on your lips.

„Yeah, but he can't kick you out of the paddock.” Max's lips turned into a mischievous smile. “What do you mean?” He looked at your hand and his thumb caressed it for a second. „I'll give you one of mine.”

„Max,“ you started a little shocked, but he quickly shook his head, „It's really no problem at all,“ he smiled, „It would be an honor to have you in the garage.“ he winked.

His knees almost buckled at the sight of you.

He had given you one of his spare Red Bull shirts. It was a little too big for you, but you had styled it perfectly, the new pass dangling from your neck with every step you took.

You looked absolutely beautiful. And you weren't walking past his garage like you usually would, because his garage was the one you'd watch the race in. It filled him with a sort of pride he couldn't explain. Never in a million years, had he dared to believe you'd be rooting for him and his team. Little did he know, you did since meeting him for the first time.

"Hey," you greeted him with a warm smile. Max was glad that you seemed to be in a much better mood than yesterday. „Hey.“ he grinned. „Is this-„ you gestured over your outfit and pass, „Is it really okay with the team?“

You were a little nervous how they'd react to you being in the garage. Nearly everyone knew you were Toto's daughter. And although you knew most of the other teams, including the people who worked for them, you felt quite nervous. „It is.“ His voice had no trace of uncertainty in it. And when he grabbed your hand for the second time since your encounter yesterday, your stomach did a little happy flip.

„Alright, I have to go, but you can just go over there to watch the race,“ he pointed to your left, „But I guess it's no different to the Mercedes garage, so…“ he laughed. You smiled and chuckled, „It isn‘t, but thank you.“ He gave you a small nod, still smiling. „No Max, really. Thank you.“ Your voice became more serious, and you looked at him with utter gratitude.

Just when he gave your hand a light squeeze, you noticed that you must've still been holding hands. „I already told you it's no problem, I'm glad you are here.“ You couldn‘t tell the look on his face, you just knew that he was standing so very close to you that only a few centimeters separated the two of you. His gaze wandered from your eyes to your lips. His hand that caressed yours as you still watched him with such intensity, trying to figure out what he was thinking, but at the same time just taking him in. „Y/N, I-„ he started whispering, so close to your own lips, just so very close.

„Max! We need you over here!“

The voice made both you and Max look up, almost startled. He turned around to the mechanic, and nodded quickly before turning back to you.

But the moment was gone. You took a step back, letting go of his hand in the process. You smiled at him, though nervously, „Good luck, champ.“. And with that you left him standing there, your heart still aching for so much more than a simple ‚good luck‘.

I appreciate your comments and reblogs so much!

here’s my kofi if you‘d like to leave a tip 🩷

#f1 x reader #angst #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x y/n #toto wolff #toto wolff x reader #mercedes #mercedes f1 #redbull f1 #formula one #f1 #fluff #formula one x reader

810 notes · View notes