#helmut marko mention

[youjustwaitsunshine]

entranced by whatever that rindt-marko-vettel web is. helmut marko and jochen rindt were best friends and raced together. sebastian vettel reminds helmut marko of jochen rindt. sebastian vettel is a great fan of jochen rindt. did seb become a rindt fan because marko told him stories of him. is marko obsessed with seb because he reminds him of his friend. i have so many questions. there's a story about rindt and marko driving to the german gp at the nürburgring and sleeping next to the track to get woken up by von trips and hill practicing in their ferraris the next morning and rindt looked at them and said to marko that that was what he wanted to do too, become a racing driver. cut to sebastian getting interviewed as a child saying "i would like to- no, i want to become an f1 driver"

[grogumaximus]

[priestest-of-the-moon]

GUESS WHAT THE ESSAYS DONE

So its like 2k words lol

So let’s talk about Checo Perez and Logan Sargent’s treatment in F1. Checo is 34 and has been in the series since 2011 after a really successful early carer in both karting and the junior series. Logan Sargent is 23 and also had a very successful carer in the lower classes. When Checo was in karting the lowest place he got in the championship was fourth. He was the youngest driver to be champion in The Karting Youth Course. Then in 2007 he switched to British Formula 2, and won the series on his debut with podiums in two thirds of the races. He continued this trend into his later years in F2, and in 2008 he was the first Mexican driver to compete at that level since Giovanni Aloi. Then he joined Formula One, debuting with Sauber. He was the fifth Mexican to compete in F1 and joined the Ferrari driver academy in October of 2010. This is a lot of information all at once but it does show that Checo was a good driver from the beginning, he was consistent and fast. However in 2011 Sauber was a lower field team and as a result he struggled a lot to be competitive in the championships. This continued when he joined McLaren in 2013 because they were also a midfield team at the time. According to his teammate Jenson Button during the Bahrain Grad Prix of that year, “He’s extremely quick and did a great job today-“.(ESPN) Checo was driving very aggressively against his teammate and they collided a couple times on track. He started doing better and getting podiums but he encountered a lot of car issues dUe to his car being a midfield competitor. He was showing improvement at the end of 2015 when he finished ninth in the standings. He continued to improve into 2017 and 2018 when he switched to Force India. He got his 8th carer podium finish in Azerbaijan in 2018 and was the only non RedBull, Mercedes, or Ferrari driver to podium that year. Then he won in Sakhir from last place, which makes him the first Mexican driver to win in over 50 years. After that he signed with Redbull in 2021. He was doing a lot better, finishing the season in fourth and was consistently in the top ten during races. Even very early into their run together Max considered Checo a great teammate saying” Checo is an amazing human being. Not only just to work with in F1 but a super nice person-“He continues later in the article with, “It’s very rare to have a team mate like that and what he showed today, he was a real team player and I really hope we can continue this for a long time.” (formula1.com) This will become relevant more later when we start to talk about the current season, but its important to keep in mind that even in December of 2021 Max considered Checo a good driver and teammate. Checo would continue to do better, getting third in the championship in 2022 and winning in Monaco in the wet. And then got his 20th carer podium in Azerbaijan of that same year. He consistently got 1-2s with his teammate and helped hold off other cars. In 2023 he continued this by helping defend against the McLarens and Ferraris and as a result helped create massive gaps in the field. He ended the Championship in second and continues to be Max’s teammate at Redbull until 2026. Overall Checo is a good defensive driver, he tends to be very consistent and is good at overtaking. When he is in a good car he can drive very well, and he is a good teammate for Max Verstappen due to his more calm attitude and driving skills.

Logan also has a similar record albeit a significantly shorter one. During his 2008 karting debut he got third, then he got another third place in a second karting series that same year. He was the first American to win the CIK-FIA World KFJ Championship (yes that is the real name of the championship)since 1978. In his UAE F4 debut he podiumed in fifteen out of the 18 races and ended the championship in second after his teammate. The following year, 2017, he got third behind his teammate, and future competitor, Oscar Piastri. He continued this patter of high championship standings until he joined Formula 3. He ended up getting 19th in the championship, which is very low but he wasn’t in last place. He joined Prema racing in 2020 and started doing better again. He finished the championship in third that year, but he left Prema the following year and ended the season in seventh. He moved up to formula 2 after being backed by the Williams academy. In 2022 he had his first practice F1 debut, which makes him the first American F1 driver to participate in a Grand Prix weekend since Alexander Rossi in 2015. Then he joined the Williams Formula one team in 2023, he was the first Williams academy driver to drive for the team. And the first Williams driver to be a rookie under James Vowles. Who was the new team principal of Williams. The team was not doing well, they struggled to get points and generally function. But Logan was the first American to score a point in F1 since Micheal Andretti in 1993. In 2024, Willams decided to make Logan give up his car after Alex Albon’s crash during the Australian Grand Prix’s practice, citing the team forgot their spare chassis. After that, there were a couple races where Logan was racing with a rear wing and other parts from last year’s car. Overall Logan reminds me a lot of when Alex drove for Redbull during his debut. Logan was very good in the junior series and I think he could be better if he was given a car that wasn’t like wrangling an angry goat every weekend and maybe another year in F2. It would also help if he had a car that was fully updated and not use essentially as Alex’s backup car.

Both Checo and Logan had pretty similar results in their junior series and karting years. I think the biggest difference between Checo and Logan is that Checo always had a purpose to the team, he was never meant to be disposable. Checo, with his defensive skills helps create large gaps between Max and everyone else, Logan was meant to show that Williams was no longer Mercedes’ feeder team. Which he has in a way, by showing just how much Williams is drowning. Logan was pulled into F1 too early and it shows, if he was given another year he probably would have done better. With Checo they have to be keeping him on for a reason even though he’s been lackluster this season, and the public probably doesn’t know what it is. Redbull, if anything have a talent for throwing out underperforming drivers, we’ve seen it happen countless times, like with Pierre Gasly, Alex Albon, and Daniel Ricciardo. If Checo didn’t have something the team wanted he would have been replaced by now, we all know that Helmut wants him gone. And like on that, most of the talk of Checo being kicked stems from Helmut, you know, the guy who has a history of being racist to Checo. Why would people believe the number one rumor spreader in the paddock as if he’s a reliable source? I think the only commonality between Redbull and Williams is their team principal’s being embarrassingly unprofessional at the driver’s expense. If I was seeing that my boss was saying that I was going to lose my seat every race weekend I probably would be stressed too, especially if the car is clearly not working. How is it that Max Verstappen himself said that the car sucked and there was no need to worry about Checo and yet people are still blaming Checo? The car is already built around the hyperspecific needs of the number one driver which has proven to be incredibly hard for most other drivers to drive, and it isn’t working this year. At some point you have to starting thinking critically about the team. If the data isn’t matching up in the sim when applied to the actual car then there a bigger fish to fry than a teammate who’s doing okay in a more competitive season.

At least we know that both teams share an air of unprofessionalism around their second drivers. Doesn’t it rub you the wrong way when you read about James publically talking about him thirsting over Carlos Sainz as soon as it was announced he lost his seat? Loudly? Over and over again? I think it was all over in Australia, I’ve never heard of a team making their driver give up his car for his teammate. And how do you just have your spare Chassis unavailable? I genuinely believe Logan was rushed because James wanted two things from the young driver. One, he wanted to show that Williams wasn’t a feeder team into Mercedes anymore. And two, he wanted someone to essentially be fodder to test things on until they figure stuff out. I don’t think James would have been so adamant about trying to get a new driver if it wasn’t Carlos Sainz, due to his knowledge of engineering. Redbull on the other hand, has Helmut Marko, he constantly complains about Checo’s pace and while that’s a good point, he isn’t doing well, at some point you have to actually help your drivers. It also doesn’t help seeing yourself being insulted on social media. During this years Dutch Grand Prix practice 1 Checo got 12th and most of the comments on Redbull’s post were insulting Checo. But then during the testing at the beginning of this season when both drivers were doing poorly, all the comments were worried that the team was sandbagging and hoping that they would do well in the race. Checo also gets a lot of bias against him in the media, especially the British media and Sky sports announcers. It’s once again a thing of only bringing up Checo being Mexican when he’s doing poorly but when he’s doing well he’s a Redbull driver. A similar thing happens to all the other drivers who aren’t white and European. I also looked at the Willams posts about the practices and everyone showed more pity for Logan, saying things like “I really feel very sorry for him” Ect. In fact I only saw one direct insult, “Least he’s winning the world destructors championship”. And then I looked at another practice post to make sure the results weren’t skewed due to his crash, and no it was actually better, most of the comments were calling for Logan to get a better car, or believing Logan could be a good driver later. However both of the driver’s personal instagrams have only positive comments as far as I can see. But I do remember there was a period when Checo would get a lot of hate comments on his posts. It’s interesting to me how people can acknowledge that Logan is struggling due to his car but they can’t do the same to Checo even when 1. His teammate is complaining about the car, and 2. These same people will say that Max’s ex-teammates struggled due to the car. I wonder if it’s because Checo has been driving for so long and was pretty successful compared to Logan who was beaten down since he started.

TL;DR Checo and Logan are in a way set up to fail with their cars. Checo, with the car being so geared towards Max it’s incredibly difficult to drive and on top of that it’s not a very good car this year period. And Logan well, he was set up to fail from the beginning. He was pulled from F2 a year too early and he never had the same amount of test driving that the other rookies of his time had, Oscar for example had a trial in an F1 car a full year before Logan did. As well as having three tests with McLaren before debuting but Logan only really had one.

[faithsmadhouse]

Daniel Ricciardo and Max Verstappen with Christian’s daughter or Helmut’s Granddaughter. A fuck you to Red Bull literally

No one has to know||Max Verstappen x Daniel Ricciardo x Reader (Y/N Marko)

Warnings: Explicit sexual content: M/F, M/M, M/M/F threesome, Double penetration Power dynamics / mild Dom/Sub themes Light choking / breath play Oral sex (receiving & giving, M & F) Marking Possessive behavior Secret relationship Mentions of family tension (Helmut Marko) Discussion of retirement and identity crisis (Daniel) Emotional vulnerability / aftercare

Word count—2434

A/n — this has been sitting in my inbox since the 21st of December I’ve finally finished it 😭😭😭

The low hum of the city below was muffled by the thick glass of Max’s penthouse windows. The Monaco skyline glittered, casting a soft glow over the living room, where a half-finished bottle of wine rested on the table, and laughter still lingered in the air.

Y/N sat curled between Max and Daniel on the plush sectional sofa, her legs draped over Daniel’s lap while Max’s fingers lazily trailed along her thigh. There was something about nights like this stolen, quiet, hidden in the dark that made everything burn hotter.

“You’re not going to be able to keep this quiet forever,” Daniel murmured, his voice low and full of heat, but teasing.

Y/N smirked, her head tilting back onto Max’s shoulder. “Helmut doesn’t exactly follow gossip blogs.”

“Still…” Max’s hand slid further up her leg, under the hem of her oversized Red Bull tee his, of course until his fingers brushed the edge of lace. “You do like testing fate.”

“Maybe I just like testing you.”

Max’s gaze snapped down to her, and something flickered behind his eyes dark, hungry. Daniel’s fingers tightened on her calf at the same time, his grin widening.

“Oh, you’ve definitely got a death wish,” Daniel said, leaning in, his lips ghosting over the shell of her ear. “Max gets possessive when you talk like that.”

Max didn’t deny it. He just kissed her slow and deep, while his hand slipped between her legs, pressing the heat of his palm against the soaked lace. Y/N gasped into his mouth, only for the sound to be swallowed by Daniel’s lips replacing his, a seamless shift that made her dizzy.

The taste of wine, Max, and Daniel all tangled on her tongue as Max kissed his way down her neck, pushing the shirt up and over her head. His mouth found her chest while Daniel’s hand slid behind her neck, keeping her gaze on him, on the glint in his eye as he dipped down and captured her lips again.

“You’re so good like this,” Daniel whispered, kissing down her jaw. “All soft. All ours.”

Max hummed against her skin in agreement. “She likes when we take our time.”

“But you don’t always,” Daniel muttered, and there was a look something electric between them. A smirk from Daniel. A sharp flash in Max’s eyes.

Y/N felt the shift in the air before it happened.

Max pulled back and looked at Daniel. “You gonna keep teasing or are you going to show her how good you taste?”

Daniel raised a brow but didn’t hesitate. He leaned over, crashing his mouth against Max’s in a kiss that was anything but gentle. Y/N’s breath hitched as she watched, heat coiling low in her belly. There was tongue and teeth, fingers curling into fabric, and tension that had clearly been simmering between the two of them far longer than they admitted.

Max pulled back, just enough to speak his voice low and dark. “Watch closely, lieverd. We want you squirming.”

Y/N didn’t think she could not watch, not when Daniel’s hand slid over Max’s thigh, fingers tracing the outline of his hard cock through his jeans. Max hissed, tilting his head back, and Daniel took advantage mouth on his throat, sucking, biting lightly, just to make him groan.

It was almost too much.

Almost.

And then Max was tugging Daniel back by the collar, dragging him into another filthy kiss, before glancing back at Y/N his voice like velvet and smoke.

“Your turn,” he said, eyes burning. “On your knees.”

She slid off the couch without a word, heart pounding and thighs clenched. The silk of the rug met her bare knees as she knelt before them, already stripped down to nothing but her panties. Max stayed seated, legs spread wide, the golden city light haloing his figure while Daniel lounged beside him, flushed and smirking.

“God, you look good like that,” Daniel murmured, brushing her hair off her face, fingers lingering at her jaw.

“She always does,” Max said, voice low. He let his hand drift lazily over her chest, thumb brushing her nipple. “But tonight, I think you want to be used, hm?”

Y/N’s breath caught. She looked between them Daniel’s teasing warmth, Max’s simmering intensity and nodded.

Max’s lips quirked. “Words.”

“Yes. I want it.”

Max shifted forward, his fingers curling under her chin, tilting her face up to meet his eyes. “Who do you belong to, Y/N?”

Her lips parted, heat pooling in her stomach. “You. Both of you.”

“Good girl,” Max whispered.

Daniel chuckled. “I think she’s being too good. Makes me want to ruin her a little.”

Y/N let out a shaky breath, thighs pressing together instinctively. Max’s eyes darkened as he watched.

“Take your panties off,” Max commanded.

She obeyed slowly, letting the lace glide down her legs, adding to the tension until she was completely bare before them.

Daniel leaned forward, palming himself through his jeans. “Fuck, look at her. Dripping and we haven’t even touched her properly yet.”

Max stood, towering over her, then gave Daniel a look. “You want to make her beg first, or should I?”

Daniel grinned, then leaned close to whisper in her ear. “You decide, baby. Want Max’s fingers or my mouth first?”

Y/N’s voice trembled. “Daniel. Your mouth.”

That grin turned wicked.

She barely had time to steady herself before Daniel had her flat on her back, dragging her closer by the hips. His mouth was on her immediately hot, slow, and maddening. His tongue traced over her folds, teasing, never giving her quite enough, while Max knelt behind her head, pulling her up against his thighs.

“You can be loud,” Max said, stroking her hair. “We’re high up. No one will hear you scream.”

And she nearly did when Daniel sucked her clit into his mouth, one hand gripping her thigh, the other teasing at her entrance. His tongue worked her like he’d memorized every spot that made her tremble. She gasped, eyes fluttering open only to find Max unzipping his pants.

“You’re not getting off yet,” Max murmured. “But you are going to be useful.”

He guided himself to her mouth, dragging the tip of his cock along her lips. “Open.”

She obeyed instantly, tasting the salt of his skin, the weight of him heavy on her tongue. Max groaned low in his throat, threading his fingers in her hair as he rocked into her mouth.

Below, Daniel slipped two fingers into her, curling them just right, mouth still latched to her clit. The combination was overwhelming. Max’s cock filling her mouth, Daniel’s fingers stroking her inside, tongue relentless it was too much. She moaned around Max, eyes squeezing shut, thighs shaking as her orgasm slammed into her.

Max pulled out with a hiss just as her cry was muffled against his thigh. “Fuck, she’s perfect like this.”

Daniel pulled back, his lips and chin glistening, pupils blown wide. “Let me have her,” he said, voice thick with want.

Max’s smirk was dark. “Not yet.”

Then he turned to Y/N. “Your turn.”

She blinked up at him, breath still shaky. “M-My turn?”

Max leaned in, eyes glinting. “Make him lose control. You know how.”

Daniel chuckled, letting himself fall back onto the couch again, arms wide. “You heard the man.”

The shift was electric. One second she was their plaything, the next she was crawling toward Daniel with hunger in her eyes. She straddled him, grinding down on the bulge in his jeans as her fingers worked to undo his zipper.

Daniel’s hands gripped her hips tightly. “Fuck, baby, you’re soaked.”

“Your fault,” she whispered, before sliding down and taking him into her mouth.

Max stayed standing, watching like a king admiring his empire stroking himself slowly as Y/N hollowed her cheeks, bobbing her head in Daniel’s lap, tongue working him just right. Daniel groaned, head falling back.

“Shit—she’s better every time.”

Y/N didn’t stop, not even when Max circled behind her and bent down, hand spreading her open from behind. She gasped around Daniel when Max pressed two fingers back into her.

“Can you take both of us tonight?” Max murmured against her back, breath hot. “One in your mouth, one in your pussy. Then we’ll see if you’re good enough to ride us both.”

Daniel let out a choked laugh. “Now that’s what I call teamwork.”

Y/N moaned her answer, overwhelmed and blissed out.

Y/N was glowing flushed, slick, lips swollen from sucking Daniel off, and back arched from Max’s fingers still inside her. But the shift was already happening. The second Max pulled back to watch her work Daniel’s cock, she sat up on her knees, dragging her fingers down Daniel’s chest and staring Max dead in the eye.

“My turn.”

Daniel chuckled breathlessly. “Oh, she’s dangerous when she gets like this.”

Max didn’t move. He just raised a brow, intrigued.

Y/N rose, slow and confident, and straddled Max’s lap. She took his cock in her hand, dragged the head through her folds, and sank down with a breathy moan ompletely in control.

Max let out a growl, hands gripping her hips, head falling back as she rocked into him. “Fucking—Y/N.”

“You said you wanted to watch me take him, right?” she whispered, leaning forward, biting his earlobe. “But now I want you both.”

From the couch, Daniel sat up, eyes dark, hungry. “Shit. I think I’m in love.”

She turned her head, meeting Daniel’s gaze as she rode Max slowly, teasingly. “Then come prove it.”

It didn’t take long. Daniel was behind her in seconds, kissing down her spine, hands rough and possessive as he spread her open. Max was fully sheathed inside her, and the idea of both of them filling her, owning her sent a fresh wave of heat spiraling through her.

“Ready?” Daniel murmured against her neck.

She nodded, voice trembling but sure. “I want it. I want both of you.”

Max’s grip tightened, his voice a low warning. “Tell us if it’s too much.”

But she just smirked, eyes wicked. “You can’t break me.”

The stretch was slow Daniel taking his time, his cock pressing in alongside Max’s and she gasped, pleasure sharp and overwhelming. Max was already shaking under her, jaw clenched. Daniel groaned behind her, resting his forehead against her shoulder.

“Fuck, baby. You’re unreal.”

She whimpered, body twitching, caught in the fullness, the way they moved together each thrust measured, building up until she couldn’t tell whose moan was whose. Hands everywhere Daniel on her breasts, Max on her throat, her thighs trembling from being stretched to her limit.

Then something shifted again.

Max grabbed her jaw and kissed her hard, dominating her mouth while Daniel reached around and circled her clit, rubbing in slow, torturous circles.

“You thought you were in control,” Max whispered darkly. “That was cute.”

Daniel bit down on her shoulder, a soft growl. “But now it’s our turn.”

And then they took her.

Thrusts quickened, their rhythm brutal and perfect, each stroke dragging fire through her veins. She was sobbing with pleasure, body barely holding up, nails digging into Max’s shoulders as her second orgasm crashed through her louder, rawer, leaving her boneless.

But they didn’t stop.

Max was the first to fall apart, his hips stuttering as he spilled inside her with a deep, broken groan. Daniel followed moments later, pulling her back against him as he came, biting down on her shoulder to muffle the noise.

All of them stilled.

Breathing ragged. Sweat-slicked. Bodies shaking.

Y/N let out a dazed laugh as she collapsed between them, chest rising and falling rapidly.

“I can’t believe I have to face Helmut at family dinner tomorrow.”

Daniel chuckled against her neck. “If he finds out what we did to his granddaughter, I’m a dead man.”

Max’s arm curled around her waist. “Then we better make tonight worth it.”

The bedroom was quiet now, wrapped in a blanket of gold light and cooling skin. Y/N lay nestled between them, Max’s arm draped over her waist, Daniel close on her other side, one leg tangled with hers like he had no plans of letting go.

For a long time, no one spoke.

Daniel was the first to break the silence, voice low and scratchy. “I missed this.”

Y/N turned her head slightly, eyes fluttering open. “What—sex?”

He gave a soft, lazy laugh. “Well, yeah. But… more than that. I missed this. Being in the middle of something that makes me feel alive.”

Max’s hand rubbed slow circles into Y/N’s side. “You are in the middle of something. Right here.”

“I know.” Daniel paused, then shrugged a little. “It’s just weird sometimes. Not being part of the circus anymore. Watching from the outside. I thought I’d feel lighter after retiring but there’s this itch under my skin. Like I left a piece of myself out there on the track.”

Y/N reached for his hand without thinking, lacing her fingers with his. “You didn’t leave anything behind, Dan. You gave all of it. And we—” she glanced between them, “we still want you. Need you.”

Max nodded, chin resting on her shoulder. “You’re still you. Still the annoying, loud-mouthed, overly affectionate pain in the ass we love.”

Daniel snorted, but his smile was softer now. “Careful, Verstappen. Sounds like you’re getting sentimental.”

“Must be the post-orgasm haze.”

Y/N rolled her eyes with a laugh and squeezed Daniel’s hand tighter. “You’re still part of this world. Even if you’re not behind the wheel anymore. You’re still ours.”

The way Daniel looked at her then like she’d just peeled away the last layer of doubt made her chest ache.

He leaned in, pressed a kiss to her temple, then shifted to rest his head against her collarbone. “If Helmut ever finds out I’m sleeping with his granddaughter, he’s gonna take a tire iron to my knees.”

Max didn’t miss a beat. “You’re retired anyway. He’d be doing the grid a favor.”

“Rude,” Daniel mumbled into Y/N’s skin, but he was smiling again. “Maybe I should’ve picked a safer post-career hobby. Like beekeeping.”

Y/N giggled. “You’d flirt with the bees.”

“Flirt with anything that buzzes,” Max added, smirking.

They dissolved into quiet laughter, their limbs tangled, heat still radiating between them but softer now, slower. Y/N let her eyes drift shut, the weight of their bodies anchoring her, the warmth of their affection so thick she could sink into it.

And just before sleep started to claim her, she heard Daniel whisper—

“I don’t know what this is, but I don’t want to lose it.”

Max’s hand tightened on her waist. “You won’t.”

[multicohn]

summary: isack’s favourite thing to do is to sleep. what’s better than sleeping? doing it with his girlfriend of course!

warnings: it’s really short, mention of 🪖

pairing: fem! reader x isack hadjar

genre: fluff

author note: very upset that isack didn’t get race and almost started crying when they showed him crying. hope everything goes well for him in the next race :(

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

in her opinion, testing is boring. did she understand what was happening? yes. did she care? not really, isack would tell her everything later anyways.

so, she really didn’t understand why isack begged her to go with him to the track, especially since he’s in the evening. however, y/n was curious as to what her boyfriend did during the wait since she would just stay in the hotel room, so y/n eventually agreed.

once they arrived, isack dropped her off at his drivers room before going to his meeting. y/n hummed and looked around, it was pretty empty, which didn’t surprise her. he had a few exercise equipment and an unfamiliar blanket.

“does he just sleep?” she questioned out loud

isack has always liked to sleep and he can sleep pretty heavily too. y/n still remembered when isack called her saying that he missed a call from helmut marko because he was sleeping. y/n wasn’t sure whether to laugh or panic, but thankfully everything went well when he called back.

when isack’s meeting finished forty-five minutes later, he had been more than happy to leave.

“the bed is calling me” is what he said when asked why he wasn’t complaining about boredom

isack hummed as he opened the door to see that his girlfriend was curled up beneath his blanket and had already turned on the tv, ready for testing to start. he sighed in relief before closing the door and climbing into the small bed.

“this is why you wanted me to come, isn’t it?”

“mmh” isack pulled up the blanket and snuggled into her back

“knew it”

does isack like to sleep? of course, but he loves doing it with his girlfriend a whole lot more.

[leaawrites]

Bad Luck

Isack Hadjar x fem!reader

Summary: after his crash in Australia, she's there to console him and cheer him up again.

Warnings: mentions of Helmut Marko, angst, fluff, mentions of car crashes, swearing, friends to lovers, I feel so sorry for him

Wordcount: 2.3k

Masterlist

The rain was slowly falling from the sky. Little drops were hitting the roof every now and then, but no major storm had been announced yet. It couldn’t even be classified as class 1 rain.

The track was wet though, no racing line developing yet as all twenty cars were lined up in their starting grid, waiting for the formation lap to start.

Standing in the middle of the VCARB garage, Y/n had her hands clasped together in front of her mouth, watching the screen as the lights turned on and Lando Norris began slowly driving in front, leading the field. Her eyes were focused on another car though. A white car standing in the box for P11. Inching forward, ready to start.

The camera switched, showing the front, Lando warming up his tires and Oscar following suit. Her eyes were frantically searching the screen, trying to find his car, making sure he was okay. Until he was directly in the middle of the screen. The back of the car in the pit wall.

Letting out a breathless gasp, she focused entirely on him. Isack was still sat in the car as the Marshals came running towards him, all of the other drivers slowly getting back into position.

“Shit,” she mumbled as she watched the montage of footage playing in front of her. His car on the track, doing good, then his wheels hit the white stripe and he looses control of his car, crashing into the barriers.

Different angles were shown, all indicating the same: this wasn’t all his fault. The track was slippery, this was his first race, his first time on inters. It was bound to happen, it wasn’t ideal but foreseeable. Still it made him feel miserable.

Standing at the side, surrounded by Marshals, watching his car being towed and the track being cleared, his head hung low the whole time. Hand on his helmet, his visor up enough so he could see properly. But she couldn’t see him. She saw his emotions in his posture, his shoulders slumped down, heavy breaths falling in and out of his lungs. But she couldn’t see him.

Taking the headphones from her head, she didn’t wait for more information from him over the radio or from Pierre, his race engineer before she made her way out of the garage and towards the paddock. Trying to catch a glimpse of him walking towards the motor home.

Soon enough, she caught sight of cameras focused on someone walking. Taking pictures and videos of the scene unfolding. Stalking towards him, she tried reaching his side as quickly as possible, though someone was faster. Anthony Hamilton walked by his side, patting his back, hugging him, telling him that it was alright, that he was better than that. He knew what it was like for drivers to fail, having to console his son more than once under the immense pressure of the sport.

His hand still holding onto his eyeport, shoulders sinking with every step he took further away from the track. He wasn’t alright at all.

She knew how much he loved Lewis as a driver, this was as special to him as it hurt that it happened like that. His endless talks about being able to drive with his idols over the summer break seemed unnecessary now. All his animated words tasted bitter sweet all of a sudden.

Following him suit into the motorhome, she tried stopping his fast step by calling out to him. But he was basically running away from her. Walking faster every time he could hear her voice calling out for him to slow down so she could catch up to him. She couldn’t see him like this. Not after he told her he would get points for her today.

Shutting the door to his driver room behind him, Isack leaned against it, closing his eyes, taking a deep breath in. Finally taking off his helmet and letting himself fall to the bottom of his emotions. Tears falling from his eyes with him.

“So, so stupid,” he mumbled under his breath. Squeezing his eyes to stop them from tearing up, but nothing made the tears stop falling. Especially not her voice on the other side of the door.

Softly trying to get him to open the door and let her in. Let her console him like she’d done countless times over the years after a bad race in F2 or F3. Though this was different. This was F1. This was where he was supposed to show the world that he deserved the seat he was given and not someone else. He knew how quickly it could be over, he’d seen it countless times before. This sport wasn’t easy, it wasn’t forgiving.

“Isack, please,” her voice rang through.

He could see her behind his closed eyelids, forehead leaning against the door, trying to get her own tears from staying inside, hand pressed against the door as if she could push it open, but she couldn’t.

His hand searched for the lock, fingers straying over it. He could make her understand that he didn’t want her there so easily, that he was fine on his own and didn’t need her soft tone as she held him. But he knew that wasn’t as easy, because he wanted her. Over their years of friendship, it was her who calmed him down the best. It was her who made him feel secure in himself and his abilities. It was her who got him through every set back.

Standing in front of the door for a few more seconds, she waited for the click of the lock falling on her ears. But it didn’t come, and when he didn’t try getting her to go away as well, she slowly pushed down the door handle, peeking inside to see if he was still leaning against the wall.

Her eyes found his body slumped over itself on the small seating area. He didn’t look up at her as she closed the door and sat next to him. Her hand falling on his back, rubbing slow circles over his fireproof. Laying her head on his shoulder and leaving a kiss on his back, she tried settling his breath by breathing with him.

“It was so stupid,” he broke the silence between them, finally lifting his head to look at her. His eyes were red and puffy. Rimmed with sadness and disappointment.

“It was your first time out in the rain in an F1 car, Isack. You’re not the first one it happened to. Even Stroll crashed in the formation lap and he’s been here way longer than you,” she tried reasoning with him. “Nobody blames you for anything.”

“Are you serious? Have you not seen the pictures? I was totally shit out there, I don’t even know why I’m still here,” he said, looking at her with angry eyes.

She knew how he could get, how his anger got the best of him when he was under stress and frustrated. It wasn’t meant harmful, it was a fight or flight reaction.

“C’était tellement stupide,” he muttered, standing up and pacing around the small room. “How can anyone be so stupid and crash in the formation lap? It’s the easiest part of the race.”

“I was 11th, do you understand that? I qualified the best as a Rookie and people were expecting something good from me and I completely destroy everything.”

“I couldn’t even get the points I promised you,” he mumbled, his voice growing smaller as he looked her way. Seeing her own gaze laced with tears.

“That doesn’t matter, Isack.” Standing up, she walked over to him, holding his shoulders before pulling him into a hug. “All that matters is that you’re alright.”

Feeling his arms tighten around her waist, she held him closer, letting him decide when he was ready to let go. They stood close like that for a few minutes before he lifted his head to look at her, still holding her close though.

“You’ll do better next week,” she whispered, wiping away a tear that escaped his eye. Holding his cheek, she couldn’t help the rapid beating of her heart as they were so close, neither giving a sign of wanting to move away.

“What if I won’t?” He asked in the same hushed tone.

“You will. You’re too talented not to.”

A small smile creped on his face at her words, a blush rising up his neck as her fingertips slipped into his hair, slowly brushing through it in comfort.

“What about you changed out of your race suit and we go back to the garage?” she asked, stepping back. Leaving a hollow ache in both their chest at the loss of contact.

“Alright.” Isack nodded his head as he watched her retreat from the room. Letting out a deep breath that collected itself in his lungs over the last couple minutes.

He looked better as he came out of his driver’s room, seeing her already waiting with her back leaned against the back of the wall.

“You ready to go back?” she asked, putting her phone away and standing up straight.

As they were on their way out, walking side by side, his manager stopped the two of them.

“I know it’s shit right now, but you still need to go to the media pen for interviews,” he told them, two umbrellas in his hand, making Isack nod.

“Can she come with me?” he asked as they made their way outside, the rain still falling steadily, falling down on the fabric of the umbrella. Him and her were sharing one while his manager walked beside them under his own.

“Of course,” he answered, smiling at her.

Isack wasn’t one of the big guys, so not every journalist tried getting a word out of him as they entered the media pen, but he was the main attraction for interviews at the moment, so a good amount was already waiting for him. He was answering every question as calmly as he could, glancing to his left every now and then to make sure she was still waiting for him.

‘This isn’t the time to cry again,’ he tried telling himself as he felt the emotions coming back up his chest.

Finishing up his media duties, he walked to her side again, feeling her hand taking his own in comfort. She could identify his thoughts without having to look at him. She knew him good enough that this would still haunt him as long as he didn’t do better.

The rest of the grand prix was quiet for them. Shortly after the restart, Jack and Carlos crashed and after the rain came back heavier towards the end, chaos broke lose on track. They watched it all happen from the garage, his arm draped over her shoulders to hold her close, even as he talked with his race engineer he made her stand close enough so he could hold her fingertips in his.

Yuki finished just out of the points at the end of the race, but the team was still proud of the progress they made over the off season. They were confident they were going to get a good amount of points this season.

Walking out of the paddock, on their way back to the hotel, Isack was stopped by a few fans and even a journalist or two, but one took a bit too far in her opinion with his question.

“What are your thoughts on Helmut Marko saying, that he finds it embarrassing for you to cry after the crash?” One of them asked, holding the mic directly in his face.

She could see the hesitation in his reaction as Isack took the words in.

Cutting into the space between the mic and Isack, she answered, “He’s a pussy for being afraid to cry, or saying that it’s embarrassing to cry. Also sexist in that sense, he wouldn’t say the same about a woman I bet,” before pulling him away from the crowd. Holding his hand in her own and tracking him towards a quieter part outside the paddock, away from all the prying eyes and hungry journalists.

“Thanks,” Isack mumbled, looking down at his shoes, his gaze flickering over to their hands still intertwined, not moving an inch to keep her by his side like this.

It wasn’t a secret in his close circle that he had been feeling more than friendship and with his clinginess throughout the race, everyone at VCARB was already suspecting that things would change between them sooner or later.

“Don’t worry about that,” she said, swinging their hands back and forth. “I meant what I said earlier, you’re too talented to let this get you down. It’s also not your first set back and see where you are now. A proper F1 driver.”

“A F1 driver without a proper start though,” he chuckled dryly.

“Who cares about starts anyway? Nobody will remember that by at least the end of the season.”

“You’re too nice to me,” he mumbled. “I just yelled at you two hours ago.”

“I know that you don’t mean it that way. I know you too good,” she mused.

“I’m glad you do. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Probably have a hundred breakdowns a day.”

“Probably.”

Looking at her, his voice was quieter even with the laugh escaping his mouth after her answer. Her eyes never straying far from his own gaze until they flickered lower, settling on his lips for a short second before flying up again. Swallowing hard as she saw the small smile form on his lips in the corner of her eyes. He’d caught her slipping up.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you too,” she whispered, before leaning up towards him. Connecting their lips and making him forget all about the events that took place a few hours ago.

[powderpinkprincess]

Pressure [Lando Norris x reader]

description: Lando finds out about the Helmut Marko comment. But did anyone he trusts give him out?  warnings: a few bad words, mentions of panic attack

Lando had always considered himself lucky. He got to live his dream. Driving in Formula 1, competing with the best, being in the motorsport elite. It was insane to think about. He was living a life most people could only imagine. He had a great, supportive family, a good team around him, friends he trusted, and a girlfriend he loved. From the outside, it looked like he had it all figured out. And in many ways, he did.

Naturally, his job and his lifestyle came with their fair share of difficulties and stress as well. Travelling a lot, switching time zones often, always pushing himself beyond his limits – it was difficult. Not only for him, but for everyone who worked in Formula 1. They had to be mentally tough to be able to perform under the extreme pressure that was on them, but that sort of mental toughness didn’t mean they were immune to stress and anxiety. They were all only humans, after all.

Lando never wanted to lie and say he always had everything sorted. Yet, there were things he preferred to keep private. Some things about his life weren’t public knowledge, and he preferred to keep them that way. One of those things was the fact that he had dealt with panic attacks since he was about sixteen.

It had never interfered with his driving. If anything, racing was often the one thing that grounded him. But still, it was there. A part of his reality that he’d learned to manage over time. Therapy helped, so did the right people around him, and in the past few years, working with McLaren’s sports psychologist had made a real difference. He’d gone almost eight months without experiencing one. That was the longest it had ever been.

He didn’t talk much about it. Only a handful of people knew, and even fewer saw, people he deeply trusted. His family, his best friend, and you, his girlfriend of three years.

That is exactly why that quote hit so hard.

It was just a quote. A random article someone forwarded to his WhatsApp. Just another thing people like to send him: memes, photos, race edits, media noise. But this one… This one made his blood run cold.

 "We know Norris has some mental weaknesses,” Helmut Marko told Motorsport-Magazin. “I've read about some of the rituals he needs to do to perform well on race day."

He blinked. Reread it. Reread it again.

It just didn’t seem like the usual trash talk. It was specific. Personal. Like… What was he even talking about? Would he know about that? How?!

He put his phone down on the kitchen counter, his coffee suddenly forgotten. Then picked it up again. Scrolled through the article. Searched the interview’s context. There was none. It wasn’t a publicized McLaren feature. It wasn’t a documentary. It wasn’t common knowledge. It wasn’t even supposed to be.

He felt his stomach twist, rage building in his chest. What was even going on?! Did someone… Talk? But who? And how…?

You walked into the kitchen, humming a song, you weren’t even sure which one. You carried two mugs in your left hand and a bowl in your right, which was left in the living room from the night before. Lando had a few days off, so the two of you could finally start the list of movies you wanted to watch.

Your glance wandered to your boyfriend leaning against the kitchen counter, and your smile faded a little. He had his phone in his hand, jaw clenched, his thumb hovering over the screen as if he was about to type something that was supposed to be well-composed. He had a frown on his face, he was chewing on his lower lip, and he looked like he wanted to throw the phone across the room, but couldn’t quite justify the drama.

You walked closer. “Lando? You’re good?”

He glanced up, and you were sure your expression just mimicked his. He seemed troubled. He turned the screen toward you, not saying a word.

You read it, slowly. Then you read it again. “Oh.”

Your eyes met his. His voice was quiet. “How the fuck would he know about that?”

Your heart dropped. You knew what he meant. The article wasn’t the issue. The article was just the fuse.

 “The only people who know are…” he trailed off. He locked the screen of his phone and placed it on the countertop beside him before looking back at you.  “I mean, it’s not on record. Not on media. Not anywhere.”

You saw it then - not just the anger in his eyes, but something colder. Fear. Betrayal.

 “I never told anyone outside the team. You. Jon. The psychologist. Maybe…" He silenced, shaking his head. “Someone talked. Someone had to talk.”

You wanted to stop him. That quote was nasty, but it was vague. You didn’t want him to jump to such harsh and hurtful conclusions based on those two sentences. No one you knew who knew about his past struggles would give out Lando like that… Or would they?

You took a deep breath. “Lando…”

 “No, don’t say it’s nothing. Don’t say he guessed. You don’t guess that shit,” he cut you off before you could even start.

 “I wasn’t going to say that,” you replied gently. “Just… Maybe it’s not even about that. Maybe he saw something and twisted it. He didn’t say anything specific. For all we know, he’s just throwing stuff around to stir drama.”

 “Or maybe someone I trusted opened their fucking mouth.” He made eye contact with you again, but this time you couldn’t quite read him.

You didn’t even know what to say. What could you say? That it wasn’t even a possibility? That it didn’t matter? That no one cared?

But it mattered to him. He cared. And a quote like that coming from Helmut Marko himself would certainly make a huge noise in the media, even if it was just something as vague as it was. People will talk about it, and they will try to guess what he meant exactly. Just like you and Lando did right now.

You crossed your arms and leaned against the counter next to him. “Okay, then who do you even think could’ve said something?” you asked, your voice calm but firm. You wanted him to see what you were getting at.

Lando didn’t respond.

 “Seriously. Your family? Max? They have never even talked to this man as far as I know. Jon? The team psychologist, who has a literal obligation of confidentiality and could legally not say anything unless you murdered someone? Or me?” you asked, ticking the options off on your fingers. “We are the only people who know. You haven’t told anyone else. So, unless you think one of us suddenly decided to go behind your back and give Helmut Marko, of all people, personal information about your mental health, maybe you should take a breath and think this through.”

 “I don’t know,” he muttered. “Maybe someone let something slip without meaning to.”

 “Or maybe it wasn’t even about what you think,” you answered, softening your voice a little. “Maybe it’s just a bitter old man trying to sound like he knows everything. Don’t give this more power than it deserves.”

He nodded slowly, deep in thought, his shoulders still tense. You understood him. A lot depended on his mental well-being. This was something even Zak didn’t know, and he liked to dig out lots of information about his drivers that could affect their performance. Especially now when they had the best cars on the grid.

 “We all love you so much. We know how much it means to you to keep it a secret,” you continued. “Don’t hurt yourself by thinking any of us gave you out before you see actual proof.”

He stayed quiet, chewing on the inside of his cheek, his jaw clenched like he was holding something in. The heavy silence stretching between you was lightly filled by the soft buzz of the fridge, the birds chirping outside, and your quiet breaths.

You reached out, letting your hand rest on his arm. “Lando.”

His eyes flicked to yours, guarded.

 “You’ve done so well,” you said softly. “You haven’t had a panic attack in what… Eight months? That’s not nothing. You’ve been handling everything better than ever. This comment doesn’t undo that. Besides, you guys operate under so much pressure. Constantly. It’s not normal what you do week in, week out. I’m not even sure you’re the only one who deals with stuff like this. You might just be one of the few who’s been brave enough to talk about it.”

He let out a soft breath, something between a sigh and a scoff. Yes, he did talk about mental health, but he purposefully never mentioned anything that personal.

 “Maybe that’s where this comment came from,” you continued. “Cause you were open once. But you gave space for conversations that matter. And people look up to you for it. They admire it. What you did was real mental toughness, you know that. And Zak knows that as well.”

He looked down, his voice nearly a whisper. “It just felt like… Like someone cracked the door open. Even if it was only a little.”

You nodded, your thumb brushing gently against the inside of his wrist. “Then you close it. You don’t owe anyone your story. Especially not someone like Marko.”

He took a deep breath and held it for a moment before letting it out. He forced a small smile on the corners of his mouth and nodded again. “Right.”

You weren’t sure any of your words got to him until his hand finally found yours and gave it a small, grateful squeeze.

[desigal-26]

My first F1 writing. Please be gentle in criticising. Requests are open if anyone wishes to request something.

The Enigma

Max Verstappen x Fem!Driver!Reader

She was different—an enigma. He was the mother drawn to her.

She took the world by storm when she came and he couldn’t stay away from her.

Warnings: Misogyny towards the reader, mention of hate comments and haters, it’s my first ever F1 related writing so please I am sorry for any mistake in advance, Max lowkey simping(?), Reader assumes the position of Yuki in this but I changed the results of the Chinese GP a bit…so don’t hate me (pretty please 🥹)

Word Count: 2.3k

Formula One—a sport rooted in unpredictably and high-stake risks that have ended in many accidents, fatal and otherwise, over the course of its seventy five years. Things changed. Cars changed. Rules and points system changed. Security measures changed to accommodate the safety of the driver above all perimeters. But what didn’t change was the lack of its reach to the marginalised sections of the population.

Women. Third world countries—or even the developing countries. People without much source or wealth but talent. People of colour.

It was disheartening, and while everyone might have given it a thought once or twice, no one did anything. And why would they? Because Formula One is a sport that might change on track but the core values of it ever really changed—and included the exclusion of certain sectors of life.

It was a news—a world shocking one—when Racing Bulls proudly announced that a female driver—a F2 prodigy and Red Bulls Junior Driver Programme member—will be joining the team in the second seat of the sister team, replacing Liam Lawson who was promoted to the main team to drive alongside Max Verstappen—the Four Times Winning Dutch Lion.

The media called it a PR stunt, a chance to make the headlines and divert attention from the deteriorating situation of the RB20, or perhaps a way of saying “we don’t know what we are doing anymore”. The fan reactions were mixed too. Some hailed the move and inclusion of a woman in motorsport after a long time—especially in Formula One—while others called it “uncalled for” and a “waste of time”.

When asked about the situation and how it would affect her race as a whole, the Racing Bulls’ newest driver had only given a diplomatic smile and a simple answer. “I suppose we will see the results on the track.”

The Australian GP wasn’t a good start for her, ending up in a bad position despite a solid qualifying and ultimately being left heartbroken and out of points because of a strategy that was never going to work out. But one thing was certain after the race—whosoever started and ended the race deserved their respective seats, and she was one of them—even if the haters and the misogynists hiding behind the curtains of ‘traditionalists’ mocked her for not having a decent finish.

But what Christian Horner and Helmut Marko and the whole world saw in the grid positions couldn’t be ignored. While Liam Lawson—the replacement of Sergio Perez—had failed to even bring the car to the checkered flag, their rookie—“replacement’s replacement” as the media likes to mock her—had done so in torrential rain in a car that was less competitive and feisty than the RB21, even if she was still out of the points at P12.

The media chalked it up as a fluke—a one time occurrence that would never happen again, until it did happen again in China. A good qualifying—as good as Racing Bulls can hope for—and a good start of the race had left her in a good position, until an ill-timed pit stop led to her being stuck in traffic, behind the very man whose car she was sitting in.

Liam was struggling, that much was clear to her, and with a radioed confirmation of her outpacing the Red Bull in front of her, she made her move, refusing to bow down to the driver in the senior team. Because why should she? Just because he had a better car and a senior team seat? That didn’t stop her before and it wouldn’t stop her then.

She had scored her first point in Formula One that day—making history in doing so. Becoming the first woman after Lella Lombardi in 1975 to score point, she had proven her worth for the seat she was given, and leading to the ultimate speculations of what if’s when her teammate had ended another race without points at P14 and Liam had followed suit at P16.

Everyone wondered if Christian and Team Red Bull is looking for a switch of drivers before the triple-header started. Speculations ran wild, fans remained restless and rooting for their own favourites while the haters continued to spread word of malice.

On the other hand, in Milton Keynes, the entire team of Red Bull was left in a deep dilemma of choosing between their second driver who refused to perform as well as they expected him to and a rookie that was outqualifying him in a car made to battle the mid-field cars, not a Red Bull.

“We should give her a try,” Hannah Schmitz, the Principal Strategy Engineer of the team, stated with a firm tone, sliding both Christian and Helmut a small bunch of stapled paper holding the raw data of pace on track and little things that make biggest of differences on track. A straightforward and brutal comparison between Liam Lawson and the newest star of the two teams.

The British Team Principal looked at Pierre Waché—their technical director and the man responsible to build the new car as per the new regulations of 2026 for the next year—asking for his take on the matter at hand.

The said man only shrugs, carefully reading through the data kept in the file in front of him. Everyone could see the gears of his mind shifting and churning, processing the data and making the calculations only he could understand.

After a while, Pierre looked up and nodded, quietly stating, “she might find trouble with the car for a lap or two, but she seems to be adaptable.”

Just to be sure, her past championships in F4, F3 and F2 were pulled up and carefully dissected through. Quick decision-making, precise timings, late breaking but at the right times, calm under pressurising conditions, quick adaptability to both the car and the weather and good instincts. Everything they want in their second driver—someone who could help in Red Bull’s campaign for reclaiming the Constructors after last year and help Max’s own campaign for Driver’s Championship.

Therefore, the decision was made.

The initial call had only informed Max about test driving the rookie driver in one of the old RB cars. Maybe RB19 or RB20—which in Max’s opinion, was hard to driver, especially for a rookie who was stepping into a top team car and expecting less…resistance. They had asked him to drop by the Red Bull Ring in Austria, give a lap or two for them to obtain whatever data they wanted to compare her with, and then leave if he wanted to.

Simple. Or so Max had thought.

He had seen her performance in the Racing Bull, had congratulated her when she scored her first point in the Chinese Grand Prix and had lingered around a bit to talk—to advice her for her future stints, he argued with himself. But he knew himself better.

She was friendly in a way that wasn’t common in the sport, easy to talk to and definitely didn’t hold any prejudices against him. He had expected her to be a bit shy, maybe naïve as well, but she wasn’t neither. Initially a bit quiet, probably intimidated by him, but that had soon away gave way for her true self to blossom out, which had, in turn lead to them speaking for a longer time than Max had intended it to be. But he enjoyed it—no, he craved it once she was whisked away by a media personnel and she had offered him a smile that he swore could melt the Himalayas.

It was stupid, he knew. She would most probably be his teammate soon enough. But that didn’t stop him from thinking about her or the way she remained so calm under pressure or the way her hair looked in a certain light. But it is not meant to be.

They are not meant to be.

The parking lot of the Red Bull Ring was mostly empty except for the familiar cars of his team and a slightly worn out one parked in the farthest end of the lot. He didn’t give it much attention, not when GP was already making his way to him, already informing him about what was expected of Max to do for the day. A small help, his race engineer had phrased.

“Is she here?” The Dutch driver didn’t even realise the words had slipped out until he saw GP shrug and nod. “Arrived before I did.” That caught the World Champion’s attention. No one in the senior team arrived earlier than his race engineer, not Hannah, not even Christian who was the team principal and usually earlier than a lot of people.

The inside of the garage was bustling as usual and Max immediately caught sight of Christian talking to her in a corner with an encouraging smile. His steps slowed down and his eyes studied her like she was the one race he hadn’t conquered yet.

Her gaze was sharp, sliding over and studying each curve and ridge of the RB19 that was being polished for Max to drive. One of the most dominant cars to have ever been made in the history of Formula One—awaiting for its rider to drive it again to a speed that had all the other teams trembling in its prime. Her hair was neatly tied, the casual clothes traded for the navy blue fireproof overalls of Red Bull. The race suit was undone on top, hanging off her waist while the fire resistant white undershirt stretched over the entirety of her upper body, accentuating her curves in a way that had many engineers and mechanics double taking—not to forget Max himself. Her helmet, balaclava and gloves were perched upon the counter beside her, waiting to be worn and be used by the rookie that had set the world on fire with her performance.

“Max! We were just talking about you!” The driver smiled as Christian hugged him, gesturing for him to join the conversation that seemingly had consisted of the team principal trying to soothe the Racing Bull driver’s nerves while all she had done was give back hums and small replies while studying the car like an expert.

But now, her attention was on the Four Times World Champion, and did Max almost preen at the thought of capturing her interest when all she had done before was provide non-committal replies because she was pre-occupied with an innate thing.

He flashed her a smile, offering his hand while he greeted her, “it’s good to have you here.” She smiled in response, and the Dutch Lion felt himself being pulled into her gravity, her small but no less callous hand slipping into his considerably larger ones with ease. “It’s good to be in the big leagues garage for once,” her smooth voice held its own unique authority that had the air around them stilling.

The hands were retracted and Max mourned the loss of the touch quietly before he began to ask her about random things. Whether she was feeling nervous or had she had her breakfast, before the conversation turned to their respective seasons so far before ending at the small tips for her for handling the RB19 efficiently.

He was called away to get dressed and slip into the car and do his job, and the thought of her and the outer world just disappeared until all that remained for Max was himself, the humming of the car beneath him and the track in front of him.

It was a quick in and out. Two laps of speed before he was called in and the car was parked in the garage, the Dutch driver emerging out of his chariot with ease of a king stepping into his kingdom—knowing full well that no one can challenge him here, much less beat him.

His blue eyes fell on the woman that stood in the corner, gloves slipping on while her own gaze was on him. He could see the spark of appreciation in them, a good impression—not that he needed one to prove his worth to her. The whole world knew what he could do—what he can do.

“Thanks, Max. You can stay if you want to see her test drive.” Christian patted his shoulder like a proud father, gesturing to the rookie whose balaclava was in place and helmet was going on, concealing her features but not her sharp eyes that seek only one thing: to prove that she was here because of her talent and not her face or sympathy.

Usually, he never stays. He doesn’t need to. Because for Max, these test drives and comparing contrasting is a waste of time. Because no test drive or practice can prepare someone for the real race—when nineteen cars fight against you in unpredictable situations with the weight of expectation weighing your shoulders down and insecurity clawing at your mind.

But something in him relented against the idea of leaving.

Perhaps, he only wanted to see the potential of the enigma that had walked into the garage with a quiet strength only a few possessed, or perhaps, he knew that while he might give himself several dozen excuses for every word he had spoken to her—she was different, and he wanted to know her. Solve the puzzle that she was.

“I will stay.”

If Christian was surprised, he didn’t show it. Instead, the team principal only handed him a headphone and the duo waited in silence as the RB19 made its way to the track again—this time with a driver that might become their next big hope for competing against the McLaren and their killer driver line up.

“Starting Lap One.”

And so, the Red Bull garage held breath.

[romantic-stylezz]

Arvid Linblad.

You know something must be extremely rare if Christian Horner and Helmut Marko are telling the truth (don't click off)

Arvid Linblad is a talent of the future and deserves and may be getting an f1 seat in 2025/6

Not only was the redbull junior a championship contender in his first year in f3, he won the most races out of anyone, was the top rookie, won the first race, the 100th f3 race and did the double in his home race in silverstone. The first f3 driver to ever do that and in a race where he was last at several points in the race.

When he was asked about the championship and fighting for it he basically said he wasn't rlly stressed bcos he turned 17 only 2 weeks ago and is fighting whilst going against 20 yr olds in their fourth year in f3

And he's driven an f1 car already with David Coulthard

He also told Lando Norris "I'll see you in five years"

Not to mention he's a mixed poc (Swedish, Indian, British origin) driver who is a hugeeee team LH kid

[81pastrys]

The Other Verstappen

Part 7 / 10

Summary— Talks spread among the paddock about what team she’s picking, but she has to meet with them first

Warnings— mentions of Jos and his amazing parenting

A/N— I’m thinking just 10 parts

Series List

Divider @bernardsbendystraws

Well. Teams began hounding on where I would go, begging me to have meetings with them. Only two stood out. Not just because one was redbull, no, McLaren offered me to meet.

McLaren? The one who has drivers locked in until they fucking die? Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri, the ones who signed their lives over? Why am I being sent a request to go there?!

“Umm RedBull is a definite, McLaren raises flags.” I tell my manager. “Aren’t they locked in until like forever?” I ask her. She shrugs and I say to agree. I want to know why they’re courting me with the other teams also up my ass, maybe publicity?

“Helmut has been talking.” She mentioned, flashing her phone to me at the new headliner ‘Marko states that the second Verstappen shouldn’t be overlooked’ that’s a head turner. Only main con of going to redbull is Jos. He’d be at every single race weekend trying to mend the abusive relationship we have.

I meet with RedBull and all goes well, I have 2 races to impress them and they’ll sign. McLaren however had a deal for under the table.

“We haven’t discussed this with Oscar or Lando, so please don’t fill them in.” Andrea starts. My face contorts into nervous confusion as he continues. “If you can out qualify at least one of them the rest of the season, or both of them for that matter, we’ll consider a contract for 27.” 2027? That’s a long shot, but with the way that McLaren is performing they’ll have RedBull 2023 dominance by then.

“So I would take a gap year in racing?” I ask. It’s a heavy offer, one I shouldn’t take lightly. “Or be a reserve, what does this mean in terms of 26?” Sure I could go and do Le Mans or other racing divisions but I wouldn’t be in the main sport I want to be in.

“You would be our second reserve, yes.” Andrea confirms, highlighting in the paper he wrote up where it states that. “You are also allowed to race in other divisions, with approval and everything.” I look to my manager who motions to the RedBull sticker on her clipboard.

Race with my brother and deal with my abusive father— if I can succeed in the car and they don’t boot me— or reserve drive for McLaren, get one or two practices next season and a seat for 2027? Hard bargain. “So whose seat would be given up?”

Lando and I aren’t official, but taking his spot would give me a definite all time hatred from him. Oscar would be indifferent, probably having better offers. “Depends on who you can outperform the rest of the year.”

Well shit. I tell him I’ll need time to decide, knowing I’ll be ripping my hair out over this later. I’m silent on the drive to Ferrari, they continue trying to convince me to sign another contract. “Just one more season?” Fred begs.

One more season. He drives an even harder bargain if I want to race with McLaren. I sigh and look at him. “I have to think all my options over, but one more season is a lot more doable than multiple.” He files the contract away and hopes on me signing it soon.

When I’m back home I check my messages, Lando and Max being the main culprits of blowing up my phone. ‘Saw you at the HQ sis 👀’ From Max and ‘how’s your day? I know it’s all about contracts and stuff.’ From Lando.

Team RedBull or Team McLaren?

@il0vereadingstuff @angelluv16 @pandabiiissh @kallanfiona @itznotsophia @charlesgirl16 @widow-cevans

[f0point5]

With all the posts about Max’s first win I can’t stop thinking about how Y/N was feeling because it was still their feud era 🥺

do you have any headcanons about it?

I always had a rough idea of what happened after he won, I think it’s mentioned in the smau but I actually had some more detailed thoughts when I saw the reel on Max’s insta so…

Enjoy 🧡

Ps. Please ignore slight inaccuracies, I didn’t check the layout of the track’s parc fermé before writing this lol

**************************

It’s your dad who drags you to yet another race under the guise of actually seeing you for more than thirty minutes at an airport. You hardly bother being upset. The kid he wishes was his is entering his first race for Red Bull Racing, you weren’t expect him to spend the whole weekend with you while that was happening.

Of course Max goes and wins it.

The moment he takes the chequered flag and the garage erupts into noise that can’t even be softened by your headphones, you want to roll your eyes, but you can’t. You’re not sure why your heart is thundering in your chest and you’re lightheaded, but you can’t think straight to figure it out. You don’t even like the guy.

Later, you’ll realise it’s because for all the dislike, awkwardness, and misunderstanding, there’s one thing you know about Max Verstappen, and it’s that he deserves this. He’s deserved it since he was racing around on his stupid little quad bike right over your foot. He deserved it after every win and every rare loss. Every time you watched him load his kart into that battered van when his dad wouldn’t let anyone help him, every time he turned away from anyone who might notice he was crying after Jos spoke to him, every time he stood on that top step looking not happy, just relieved.

You don’t even realise you’re crying until Geri Horner hands you a tissue with a soft smile before she runs off to join her husband. You follow her out to parc fermé where Max is already out of the car, mobbed by people. Barriers aren’t keeping anyone away from F1’s story of the decade.

You’re making your way through the throngs of people without any clear idea of why. You’re not even sure you’re breathing. Your brain certainly feels short of oxygen. Max has his back to you as he talks to one of his pit crew, gesticulating wildly as the guy shakes him by the shoulder.

It takes pretty much all the courage you’ve ever had to tap him on the shoulder. Something in you is surprised he turns to look at you.

“Congratulations,” you say, past a lump in your throat.

He doesn’t say anything. His smile doesn’t fall, but his eyebrows raise, like in this sea of people congratulating him he’s surprised that you did.

“Uh, thanks,” he says squeezing the back of his flushed neck. Even with a grin he can’t dull, he manages to look so damn awkward, and he can’t meet your eyes. “It was a good race, huh?” He snorts out a chuckle like he’s just one a 100 metre dash at a school sports day.

“Oh, fucking hell, Max,” you scoff as you take hold of his wrist and pull him into a hug, one he returns so quickly it makes you laugh, shaking against him.

You squeeze him tighter and he responds in kind. You laugh again, and this time you feel him laughing, too. Maybe something in his sweat transmits his adrenaline, or the heady atmosphere of success just takes over and you lose your mind, because you find yourself wondering what would happen if you just never let him go.

It’s Jos who pulls you apart, giving his son one more hug before pushing him off to where the team is waiting to celebrate with him again. He even turns to you and gives a squeeze around the shoulder and a kiss to the crown of your head, which feels a little like being kissed by the pope.

You shrink back into the crowd of people as photographers move past you to get closer for more pictures. Max doesn’t even seem to notice them, talking to Helmut Marko and his dad, looking like he’s walking on air. You imagine he must feel weightless. You know that for some reason, you do.

“He’s phenomenal,” your dad says beside you. It’s a dig at you, but you don’t even care.

“Yeah,” you agree, watching Max hugging his race engineer, “he is.”

He may be an arrogant dick, but his talent is something you see once in a lifetime if you’re lucky, and today you feel lucky. Your dad may never forgive you for not having talent like that but right then you promise to stop hating Max just because he does.

You’ll never be friends. You’ll never have more in common than a childhood that shattered you and made him invincible. You’ll probably never stop wondering what it’s like to be him.

But when you see him stand on that top step for what you know won’t be the last time, you cheer.

[agendabymooner]

all-american bitch ! yuki t. x ofc (filo!indie singer!ofc)

“got what you can’t resist.”

summary: it seemed as if tension arose after yuki revealed himself to be a taken man as pia ellis’ blunt personality didn’t fit for an f1 wag— or whatever those haters said. too bad, she’d do it again.

content warning: use of explicit language, brief mentions of sexism, helmut marko, wholesome franz tost, hate comments, consumption of cigarette, short jokes, sex jokes, yukierre x ofc, ofc shitposting

note: i’m postponing my honey honey chapter im sorry 😭

a - n masterlist // o - z masterlist

if you’d like to get on one of my taglists, check this post out

tagged yukitsunoda0511

liked by pierregasly, alphataurif1, liamlawson30

girlinred girlfriend 🫶 liked by papayapia

papayapia girlfriend 🫶

user1 pia in her wag era 😩😭

user2 i love my wag pia kennedy d. ellis 🥰🥰🥰

user3 LIVE LAUGH LOVE YUKIA

liamlawson30 my short monarchs 😇

papayapia FUCK OFF 😭😭😭

user4 NOT THE SHORT MONARCHS

user5 this is going to my ig comments hall of fame ^

pierregasly yukino 😍😍

user6 pierre that’s someone else’s boyfriend 🙂🙂

papayapia get your own love life hoe stop stealing mine

alphataurif1 my favourite girl 🥹🥴 liked by papayapia

papayapia my favourite admin 🤩

yukitsunoda0511 do it again 😊liked by papayapia

papayapia i will bby 🥰😘

extras !!!

♡ moony’s reminder 🅶 (general): @hiraethrhapsody @avaleineandafryingpan @topguncultleader @enhacolor @roseandtulips @woweewoowa @magnummagnussen @happy-nico @architect-2015

[grogumaximus]

[le-stappen]

Helmut Marko again mentioning Charles after the qualy, saying that he is relieved that he is not in the front because he is the biggest threat to rbr in the long runs.

[landthatplane-blog]

More hypocrisy, more rants…

Fuck Helmut Marko. Honestly, why does he still need to slander Daniel? You’ve already made the decision. Not only wasn’t there a fond farewell, nor was he given the grace of knowing it was his last race. Post that shitshow in Singapore - he’s still talking about Daniel! Just be honest, this was about money and politics.

To start, Daniel’s season wasn’t anything spectacular, but he was on a run of improvements and certainly not usually bad enough to be dropped mid-season or not given a known last race. That said, per Marko, if Daniel “isn’t performing” in that dumpster tractor - fine, but then have the decency to acknowledge Checo in an objectively faster car also isn’t performing. The hypocrisy yet again. Admit, certain rules and expectations are being applied to different people.. If Daniel didn’t do enough - why is Checo still there? Objectively, if it’s about “performance” then they should both be out no? They acted like Daniel needed to perform miracles in that shit box, but fine for Checo to just get by most races (despite it potentially costing them Constructors). Never a fair fight. (Not trying to hate on Checo, just pointing out RBR/RB unfair expectations and narratives being put on Daniel). All to say, no one arguing DR should be guaranteed a seat/promotion/extension but I think most people agree (even non-DR fans) - a true goodbye or last race/season for 13 year veteran of sport - was deserved. His fucking family weren’t there because they didn’t know, he didn’t know until Saturday.

Last thing, I’m not condoning hating on LL, now or in future, but sir, read the room! You got the seat, you already won. The dream is in hand. To go around announcing you knew two weeks ago - have some humanity and emotional intelligence. Is it inexperience or is he rubbing it in everyone’s faces? He could have stopped at grateful for the opportunity, excited for the future.

Why has the whole ordeal felt so traumatic and hurtful? If we’re all feeling this, I can’t imagine what Daniel is feeling? As many people have mentioned, McLaren and 22 were bad, this feels worse. Permanent. And for all of CH’s bitching about McLaren, what’s happened here is infinitely worse. It’s like a real betrayal from a team he’s given so much to. He’s trusted them, and they couldn’t even be bothered.

ps if this was about 2025/2026 and decision was made two (or more weeks) - why did they string him along? Dangled the carrot with no real intention to follow through. The fact that they took advantage of his “Red Bull or bust” dreams is also gross. If they didn’t have intentions, they could have not tortured him all season. Maybe he could have had talks with other teams. Or enjoyed his last few races in peace.

so many should ofs, could haves….

[dougboules]

with the dc inside joke thing, do you think there was an element of bullying (as such) going on with dc/mark maybe other drivers towards seb? not just on a commentating level but just in general. i’ve always wondered since obviously after 2010 there seemed to be a lot of snide and unkind remarks about seb and things like that

i'll start out right by saying that i take seb at face value when he said that kimi was the only one who would really talk to him when he first joined f1, which was a big deal! which i mention because i sort of think that precludes a lot of, idk, classic bullying behavior, except ofc the silent treatment, which even if that's 'normal' in f1 i can easily believe that seb felt it was rather pointed and internalized it.

i think the red bull drivers is another can of worms because they would've been observing seb get the golden child treatment for years. so i kind of have to imagine that the 'inside jokes' and snide comments and everything are partly venting frustration and/or jealousy. something else about it that puts a terrible taste in my mouth is that dc and mark etc have the luxury of crafting their comments in their first language, and delivering them to the british media who they already knew was firmly on their side from the schumi years. maybe they felt like their comments were tit for tat, especially if they were kept aware of helmut marko's comments to german-language media and counted them, or that they felt like they were doing something important by making sure seb's ego was cut down to size, but. well. i guess i'll sum up by saying that it's classic bully thinking to excuse poor behavior by acting like it's a level playing field and the key power imbalances, eh?

oh yeah and again i'll reiterate that we only know the public-facing side of it and maybe seb laughed at more of it than we know but idk. my mama taught me that kindness is free 🤷‍♀️