#jo's the one driver

[livetogether--diealone]

~ the one surprise rookie (4)

[watcher0033]

"He took the malevolent shrine in the divorce" is the fucking funniest concept I've heard today

Let Yuji have the house or the fucking shadow dogs, 2k23. 😭🙏🏼 Honestly, it’s the least that Sukuna could do to pay for all the damages.

[j0shm0]

Michael Schumacher All-Time Race Record

As promised, next up we have THE definitive G.O.A.T of the 90s-10's. There may have been other WDC, Fast competitive drivers, but no one…NO ONE compared to the dominance that is Michael Schumacher or Iconic as him in his scarlet Ferrari. He dominated in a ton of different models of cars, regulations, rules, safety procedures and more. No one holds more WDC's then Michael as he has 7 with 5 of them being back to back from 2000-2004. He may not have as many overall race wins as Sir Lewis Hamilton, but there is no doubt that Michael is the iconic vision of a Formula One driver.

Throughout his 19-year career which went from 1991 to 2006 and 2010 to 2012; he racked in a total of 91 wins, 41 runner-up podiums, 22 third place podiums, 64 point finishes, 17 outside the points, and 65 DNFs. Racing with V10s, V8s, Hyrbrids, No HANS, with HANS, Points only going to only 6th, 8th, and 10th. There is not a single major era of formula one that he has not been apart of. Even the Ground effect era was something he did, just not this 2022+ version that we have now.

Noticeable points throughout his legacy:

DNF'd in Japan his first 3 years until 1994 (which was also his first WDC)

Was on pace in 1997 and 1999 to win another WDC but in 97 he was DSQ from the whole championship and in 1999 he broke his leg with a massive shunt at the British Grand Prix

Had more "out of the points finishes" from 2010-2012 then he did from 1991-2006 combined. aka. 'POINTS OR NOTHING'

Missed 7 races in 1997 from July to September, and Missed 3 races in 1994 due to a broken rib. STILL WON THE WDC in 94.

[zibaldone-di-pensieri]

I had a dream in which I was at my house and I was playing like I was a Mercedes F1 driver and my teammate was my grandpa 👀

But he was angry with me because he wanted more, better results, pretended a lot, kinda Jos Verstappen style if you know what I mean 👀

Anyway in the dream sometimes I saw Hamilton too and his teammates that wasn't George Russell tho 😅

I don't remember exactly who was the other driver but it could have been Bottas or Rosberg 🤔

[smandmoree]

THIRST TRAP PHOTOS ARE BACK!

Check another batch of hot photos from some F1 drivers, tennis players and football players if you can....😉❤️🔥

PHOTO CREDITS: Pinterest, Google Images

[cazzyf1]

"Sally, Piers and myself came into a restaurant," says Coombs. "There was a big fish tank on the right. And Jo Schlesser was in the tank going 'Glug, glug' like a fish. Jo came out of the tank, took his trousers off and stood there with nothing on!"

[ferrarihamilton]

STORMCHASER?? 👀

this fic has been ruminating in my head for almost a year..... it's a chalex au where charles stopped racing after winning gp3, and alex's family moved to the US when he was young and he visits every summer break just before storm season starts.

Charles texts him at 3:18AM on a Saturday in the middle of July: Alex! I hope you are dreaming sweet dreams. I will be in Dogwood in a week! Can I stay with you?

Alex smiles when he sees it in the morning. Charles asks the same question every summer, and he’s always so polite about it. Like Alex hasn’t seen him throw up on himself after drinking a box of wine, and hasn’t been opening his house to Charles for four years now. Like he doesn’t know how the first thing Alex does upon waking is check the forecast. He might not have the fancy equipment that Charles has, but he can see the cartoon of a little raincloud with lightning as well as anybody else. They’re promised high winds at the beginning of August. Alex had already prepared the spare room.

He replies, Hey charlie. What day would you be arriving?

The typing bubbles appear immediately, and a second later a string of kissy faces come through, followed by Hmmm thursday I think

Alex thumbs up the message, and then sends a photo of his view of the sunrise for good measure. In the foreground, there’s his windowsill, littered with various trinkets that Charles has brought before, and then below, the cafe's porch awning, and the sprawling fields for miles to see. Even without opening the window, the air feels fractious, hot.

Alex knows Charles understands, because he sends back four emojis: a battery, an electric plug, a thermometer, and a satellite. Alex smiles again, helplessly, before tucking his phone into his back pocket and heading out start his day.

Chloe is already starting to make breakfast. She turns as she hears him come down the stairs, and smirks when she sees his face. “Charles due soon?”

“Shut it,” he says. Chloe just smirks wider as she hands him a bowl and a carton of eggs.

+++++

Dogwood, Oklahoma, population 300, sits on State Highway 39, and the township’s economy is mostly fuelled by the tourists heading north to Kansas. It’s completely unremarkable, utterly boring, and the perfect place to spend three weeks of summer when your day job normally consists of multiple timezones a week.

His mum had bought the house and the attached cafe soon after they moved to the US: Albon's, a classic tourist trap place with cheap sandwiches and coffee, morphed into half a farm slash petting zoo when Luca wouldn’t stop rescuing animals and plunking them firmly in their backyard. The tourists kept asking about the donkeys wandering around the picnic tables, and Zoe had said eventually, “Well if they’re not going away, we might as well make some money.” They’re proudly advertised as family-owned and operated, which is supposed to make the people feel good about spending their money there, but mostly gets brought up through gritted teeth whenever Zoe and their mum argue about finances.

Alex tries not to get involved. Even though he makes more than enough money now for them to not need the cafe, he thinks it keeps his mum happy, to be reminded of the first life they'd had that was completely theirs.

And the cafe is how him and Charles are still friends. Alex had been furious when Charles told him he wasn't continuing with racing after winning GP3. Alex would have given everything to have beaten him, and here Charles was, acting like it didn't mean anything.

But Charles had followed him to Oklahoma that winter, instead of going home. He'd helped out at the cafe, and the night before his flight back to Monaco, he'd told Alex that he'd enrolled at Oklahoma State, tentative major in mech-E. Later, Alex will think that he probably had wanted to be an astronaut. Instead, when Charles' prof in sophomore year had taken his class out in the middle of a thunderstorm, and Charles had dragged Alex along with him, Alex had had the almost religious experience of watching Charles’ face as the sky crackled with lightning.

They’re still good friends; they text fairly frequently, but it’s been a year since they’ve seen each other. Charles is a proper stormchaser now, galivanting around the country on grant money from the college. He looks happy in every photo he posts on Instagram, writes long blog posts using words like isobars and Doppler effect and mobile broadband MNVO. And without fail, he stays at Alex's family home for a week before the storm season begins in earnest, and Alex sends him off to run after tornadoes, like a wife watching her husband leave for war.

+++++

Charles arrives in a flurry, bringing with him a battered Jeep fitted with mods Alex isn’t entirely sure are legal. As she does every year, his mother comes out to stand next to him on the porch as they pull up, and her eyebrows are thoroughly unimpressed until Charles’ smiling face hops out.

“Oh Charles!” she coos. “He was always such a good boy,” and then Charles is kissing her on both cheeks, saying hello and how she looks as beautiful ever, before he turns his attention on Alex, and even though Alex is twenty-six, he feels himself flush.

“Alexander,” Charles singsongs, and then mushes his face into Alex’s collarbone as he hugs him. Alex huffs out a laugh, wraps his own arms around Charles.

“It’s good to see you too,” he tells him. Charles beams at him, and Alex hasn’t followed Charles on one of his tornado chases since he was twenty, but under his gaze, he feels supercharged, electric.

Charles insists on helping out around the farm, because Alex absolutely puts his foot down when Charles offers to pay them for his week stay. This would be useful, because it’s the busiest part of the tourist season, if Charles were not completely useless. He takes nervous steps away when the animals approach him, clumsy with the dirty plates when clearing tables, and even though Alex knows that Charles can operate software with GIS overlay and the college’s ham radios that tune into Skywarn frequencies, he stares at their cash register with the same trepidation most people approach large spiders. And despite all of that— he charms all the little old ladies that come though the café doors, even when he messes up the orders. He makes Melina laugh, which in turn, lets Zoe get on with the bookkeeping undisturbed. He also brings in a shitload of tips. Alex hides a smile, watching Charles flit around and somehow be totally out of place and completely at home all at once.

It’s hard not to be charmed by Charles, his quick hands and the way he looks when he’s concentrating. Alex was a lost cause when he was eighteen; he sees no reason why that might have changed now.

+++++

Alex is always worried that Charles will get bored when he stays. Usually, he’s a doer, not a worrier, but he still has a training regime to keep up, so it's not like Alex can skive off to entertain Charles.

But they do have one tradition, and there’s nothing else to do on a Saturday night. So Alex takes the pickup truck they usually use for moving animals, cleans the hay and muck out, and drives Charles out to the fields. It’s a clear night, and they can see the stars, and he spreads out the blanket over the truckbed, throws down a couple of pillows, and leans back to look up at the night sky.  

“Tell me about your year,” Charles demands, once they've settled in.

Alex shrugs. Anybody can find out how his year is going from every sports website under the sun. He nudges Charles. “Tell me about your year.”

But Charles shrugs too, even though he’s smiling, and starts telling him about clouds instead. “Cumulonimbus,” he says. “Cumulus means ‘heap’ in Latin and ‘nimbus’ means storm cloud. They mean a storm is coming— air currents care carrying the water vapour up. When they develop, they have this dome.” He cups his hands into shape. “And then they can become supercells.”

Alex knows about the team that Charles is going with this year: Lewis, who used to work for the National Weather Service but now he’s a storm spotter for fun; Seb, a professor of climatology and technically their team lead; Daniel, who looks like he’s only there because he’s an adrenaline junkie and a good driver.

Alex knows from reading the captions on Charles’ Instagram posts that storm season starts in August, and the café is the first stop. For the next two months, he’ll follows the weather patterns as they shift and morph on radar displays, driving into fields, into wide-open terrains of grass and dirt and lakes with no roads and a cloudless sky, and waiting for the winds to pick up before they go.

He knows their time is limited, so Alex drinks in the sight of Charles and all the ways he’s changed in the time they’ve been apart. He tries not to wish for anything more.

At the end of the week, two more Jeeps roll into the driveway, Seb, Lewis, and Daniel all get introduced in quick fashion, and then Charles kisses Alex high on his cheek, and waves at him the whole time they’re driving away. Alex watches him go, waving, sore.

+++++

August turns into September, and the season picks up again. Williams has a solid midfield car now, and it's good, seeing the fruits of his hard work, having a team around him that listens to him, takes him seriously. Him and Charles continue to text, infrequently, as they always have. Charles tells him about amazing tornadoes, sends photos of himself at the World’s Largest Ball of Twine in nowhere towns on the side of highways, miles and miles of cornfields.

In return, Alex sends photos of the track, some terrible coffee they make him try for a marketing challenge, Luca screwing his face up at his maths homework, the crowd of fans at Singapore.

This is why it’s particularly insulting, that Alex finds out from fucking Lando of all people, that Charles got struck by lightning.

“What,” he says. His hands are clammy where he’s clutching his phone.

“Yeah, Max mentioned it to me. Guess Daniel told him. They’re having one of their weird on again things again.”

Alex couldn’t care less about whatever drama Lando has embroiled himself in. He’d known, logically, the risks of storm chasing. Except it was Charles, who has always seemed bigger than it all, exempt from the rules of physics and karma and everything else that made the rest of them mortal.

He checks Charles’ Instagram after Lando hangs up. The last post is still there, from a few hours ago. Alex had already seen it, liked it, thought nothing of it. A photo of a long stretch of highway, Daniel’s exaggeratedly frown. Location tagged Humboldt, Tennessee: stuck here for a few days with an upside down smiley face.

There’s a shiver running up his spine, a tense, live wire. If he touched anybody right now, he’s be unsurprised if the venom of it ran straight through them.

That feeling only intensifies in the twenty-four hours between Landos call and him pulling up outside the only motel in Humboldt. He stands outside the car feeling angry and frightened as he figures out what to say to Charles. This is greatly ruined by how Charles stumbles out ten minutes later in socks and slides, and stops dead.

“Alex?” He blinks. "You're supposed to be in Austin."

Alex is; it's Wednesday, race week. He has media duties in the paddock tomorrow.

“Did you get taller?” Charles asks, when Alex still doesn't say anything.

“I don’t think so,” Alex manages to get out. He's still feeling that sickly furious feeling, and Charles must see it on his face, because he huffs.

 “Fucking— I’m fine, the car is ruined but it had to happen at some point.”

“Does it?”

Charles squints at him. “Is this a trick question?”

"Charles," Alex says, but he's stopped by movement in the motel. harles glances back. A door is open, and Seb is lounging casually against the door frame in sweats. Alex didn’t know it was possible for a man wearing a headband to look so frightening.

 “Let’s go for a drive,” Charles says.

+++++

Charles directs them back onto the highway. He riddles with the radio, turning the dials until it crackles into a frequency that’s giving a weather report. Alex has to keep his eyes on the road to drive, but he knows what Charles looks like even without turning his head: lips pursed, hands twitching like he’s looking for a notebook before his thoughts fly away.

"Here," Charles finally says. It’s a dirt road turn off that looks like it leads nowhere, but Alex turns off all the same.

“You’re here,” Charles says wonderingly, even before he's killed the engine. Alex takes a deep breath, turns to face Charles. Seeing his face, whole, open, looking at Alex in that way lets the last of Alex’s worry melt away.

“Okay,” Charles says, and Alex leans forward and fists his hand in the collar of Charles’ shirt, and kisses him.

[whatarethe0ddsac]

Bigger Person- Chestappen One Shot💙✨

AFTER LITERALLY ONE MONTH AND A BIT- I FINALLY finished my most dramatic and longer one short!

This is a story that touches many delicate matters, so pls read the tags first so you are warned

I really really hope you guys enjoy this! LOVE Y’ALL! Happy October! 🧡✨✨✨

[formulatrash]

I can't find the tweet now but one of f1twt (a barren land)'s greatest early hits was a screengrab of Lewis and Fernando gossiping captioned "gassing with your frenemy about the two new frenemies forming in front of you" and I think about it like 5 times a week to this day

Fernando and Lewis messing around in the infamous 2016 Daniil/Max mid season driver swap press conference because they were barely getting asked questions.

Everyone was serious in the front and then you got these two in the back just simply not caring. 💀

[livetogether--diealone]

~ the one who defeated the odds (2)

[motorsportbarbie13]

The Yapping Hour is Upon Us

In which Max decides that maybe doing interviews isn't such a bad thing.

Warnings: jos verstappen mention ew Pairing: Max Verstappen x Podcaster!Reader Word Count: 2.5k plus social media posts

Series Master List Main Master List

TheYappingHour posted:

349,219 likes liked by redbullracing, charlesleclerc, and others TheYappingHour Back at it this week with a very super top secret special guest. I simply can't wait to reveal who's on this weeks pod, you guys! You're going to DIE. (peep the clue in the second picture!) user928 her podcast set up is so aesthetic i can't user0928 RED BULL??? what does this meeeeeean??? >>>user1211 she hasn't done a ton of athletes in the past, maybe she got one of the Red Bull athletes!! user00291 DU DU DU DU MAX VERSTAPPEN. (shhh let me be delulu for a minute) >>>user221 as much as i'd love that, we all know how much Max hates interviews.

There was absolutely no reason why having Max Verstappen on your podcast should be making you this nervous. You’ve interviewed actual heads of state, a former president, and royalty for crying out loud and you’re losing your mind over Max fucking Verstappen? You supposed it came from the fact that you had spent most of your childhood traveling from track to track to watch your dad race in NASCAR, racing was in your blood and you knew how revered and idolized Max was. And how rabid his fans could get. You wanted to get this interview right. Needed to get this interview right. Motorsport were still a huge part of your life, even if you weren’t really outwardly an active fan. You never missed a NASCAR or F1 race and while you considered yourself a Ferrari girlie, Red Bull was most certainly your second team. 

“Everything ready?” Your assistant Shannon pokes her head in as you fluff the last throw pillow on the cream colored lounge chair. Scanning the room, everything looks to be in order. The two overstuffed chairs dominate the center of the small recording studio, each with a microphone set up on a small side table next to each chair. Instrumental versions of Taylor Swift songs floated out of small speakers tucked away and a few candles burned in the low light of the studio, creating the exact ambiance you were famous for. 

You’d been doing your podcast, The Yapping Hour, for nearly five years now and it was now one of the most popular podcasts being produced. You specialized in relaxed interviews of people that the general public don’t get to see relaxed very often. Your big break had come about 3 years ago when you had somehow managed to land an interview with Michelle Obama, her episode was still the most streamed episode of yours to date. Everyone had fallen in love with your interview style, how you got these normally highly media trained individuals to drop their guard down a little and be real for even just an hour. It gave people such a unique glimpse behind the curtain of fame and your fans ate up every bit of it. 

“I think so!” You nod, smoothing down the front of your boyfriend cut jeans even though the denim is perfectly ironed without a single wrinkle. 

“Good, because he just pulled in the parking lot.” Shannon smirks. She knows how nervous you are for this interview and is insisting it’s because you have a crush on the driver. Which would utterly unprofessional if it were true. But it wasn’t true. At all. “And he’s driving this matte black Aston Martin.” She closes her eyes as she bites her lip, smirk growing even wider. 

“Okay, let’s cool it on the hero worship.” You warn, following Shannon out into the lobby of the building. 

 Outside, it’s a dreary late April morning in the heart of downtown London. You had traveled from your home base in New York City just for this interview but had been surprised at how much you liked the ambiance and energy in the city. So much so that you had extended your stay a few extra weeks. The good thing about being your own boss of a podcast was that you could literally work from anywhere you had your laptop. 

Peering out into the parking lot, you’re surprised to see a lone figure in jeans and what looked to be a Red Bull windbreaker, hustling across the pavement towards the door. When he approaches the door, Shannons steps forward to open the door, a gust of wind whipping at your hair when Max comes bustling in through the doors. 

“Hello!” Max’s voice sends involuntary shivers down your spine, a feeling you fight hard to shove down. This is not the time to be a fan girl, you remind yourself. 

“Hi Max, thank you so much for joining us today! Can I get you some water or maybe some tea?” Shannons steps forward first, extending her hand. 

Max takes it and gives her a wide smile, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “Water is fine, thanks.” 

“Max, it’s such a pleasure to meet you.” You step forward then, the heels of your black Louboutain’s clicking on the hardwood floor as you approach him. It takes every ounce of focus you have not to react at what feels like a white hot spark flickering over your skin when his hand touches yours for the first time. 

“Pleasure is mine.” He murmurs, cat like smirk replacing the warm smile that had greeted Shannon. Your social media did you absolutely no justice and Max was finding it hard to keep his composure you were so pretty. 

“Are we waiting on anyone else or is it just you today?” You ask, eyes darting above his shoulder to see if there was anyone still in the parking lot. 

“Why? Will I be needing my body guard today?” He quips as he follows you towards the recording studio.  

You pray the dim lights in the studio hide the way you’ve gone pink. “Of course not! It’s just that normally the people I have on the show travel with an…entourage.” 

“I don’t like people.” He says, as if it’s the most obvious fact in the universe. “I prefer to travel solo. Besides, I’m no Queen of the Netherlands or Justin Trudeau, I don’t really need an entourage.” 

He casually drops two of your biggest interviews like it’s nothing and you feel the pink tinge of your cheeks heat to a crimson red. “You’ve listened to the show then?” 

He nods, taking the seat you offer him as Shannon and your AV guy Steve bustle around getting things set up. A bottle of water appears for each of you and you take out the pages of notes you’ve made even though you’ve got all the questions memorized. You like to be prepared and prefer your interviews to be more conversational, less question and answer. 

“I like to know what I’m getting myself into.” His eyes hold this glint of mischief that if you were less of a professional, would have you biting your lip and kicking your feet. Truth was, Max had spent an ungodly amount of time on your socials and wikipedia page, obsessing over you and your career. 

“And yet you still came.” You tease.

“I did.” He says simply and you can’t help but notice how his gaze briefly drops from your eyes down to your lips and quickly back up. It’s so quick that if you weren’t in the business of watching and observing people, you probably would have missed it. But those baby blue eyes of Max’s are so easy to read, all you can do is grin back at him. 

“Well, thank you for making the trek into London today. I do appreciate it.” 

You briefly explain how the interview is going to work, how Steve is going to make sure everything is set up and recording, how you’ll post audio and video versions and that he can have final say in anything that goes in or stays out of the interview. You’ve found that a lot of your guests appreciate that little clause and in the five years you’ve been doing the show only a handful of bits have been kept out. You like to think it’s because you’re good at what you do and get people to open up on a level that they feel comfortable with. 

Steve finally gives you the okay and you settle into the cozy lounge chair, Max sitting comfortably in the one opposite you. 

“Thank you again for joining me today, Max. I’ve got to admit, I was a little surprised when your manager said you’d agreed to come on the show. You don’t do a lot of lengthy interviews and I could only find a handful of podcast appearances over the years. So, why The Yapping Hour? Why now?” 

Max takes a sip of water before placing it on the table beside him. His shoulders are relaxed, his ankle sitting on his knee is a causal pose. You’ve become a veritable body language expert since starting the show and you can already tell this is going to be a good interview. 

“I like your style.” His blunt answer throws you off for a moment and your cheeks heat. Again. You make a mental note to make sure they edit your complexion in post production to take the blush out. “GP sent me the one you did with Dale Earnhardt Jr a few months ago and I was impressed at how authentic you were. Dale is a character but you got a lot of depth out of him. Your questions went beyond the typical ‘what’s your favorite race track.’” 

“Well, thank you. That is quite the compliment coming from you.” For the third time in a short time, you blush at the compliments this man is handing out left and right. 

Your eyes flicker above Max’s shoulder to where Shannon and Steve sit, their smug faces tell you that you’re not imagining him flirting with you. 

“I have to tell you, I went karting with a few friends in prep for this interview and oh my God, I’ve been sore ever since! I can't imagine how hard an F1 car is on your body. Talk to me a little bit about your training sch-…”

“You went karting as research?” He interrupts you, face a mask of disbelief. 

Now it’s your turn to smirk, “Of course, I like to know what I’m getting myself into.” You toss him a wink and enjoy the way your stomach flips when his ears go a bit pink. “My dad beat me by almost 20 seconds and I don’t think I’ll ever hear the end of it, but it was worth it. I can see why so many people get hooked, it was so fun.” 

“Karting with a NASCAR legend had to make it a little better though, yeah?” 

“You know my dad?” Your brows nearly hit your hairline, you’re so surprised at this. Your dad had been long retired before Max had come onto the racing scene and there wasn’t a huge overlap in fan bases between F1 and NASCAR. 

Max nods, “He was racing around the time Jos was in F1. I still remember that one Daytona 500 where he stole the win from Earnhardt Jr on the last lap after he’d led for the entire race.” 

You tilt your head back laughing and Max thinks it’s the prettiest thing he’s ever heard, fully entranced by the long column of your neck that’s suddenly exposed. “Oh God, dad is going to die when he hears you know about that race.” 

“Have either of you been to an F1 race yet?” A plan begins to form in Max’s head. 

“No!" You lean forward to swat at his arm playfullt. I’ve tried a few times but it’s always fallen through. I do watch most of the races though, as long as my schedule permits. Sometimes it’s easier when you guys are in Europe because the races are so early in New York, it’s easy to watch them from bed on Sunday mornings.”

The image of you wrapped up in a fluffy duvet wearing nothing but his t-shirt as you watch him race nearly sends Max into orbit. He blinks furiously, trying to get that vision out of his mind so he can pay attention to you. 

“Tell me this then, if you could pick any garage to watch the race which one would it be and why would it be Red Bull?" 

You can’t help that laugh that explodes from you then and Max preens under your attention, smile stretching wide across his handsome face. “You know, I could have sworn it was my name on the podcast Instagram page.” You tease, giving him a wink. “You keep asking me questions, I’m going to be out of a job, Verstappen.” 

“I can’t help it when the interviewer is much more interesting than I am.” He murmurs, taking another sip of water without taking his eyes off of you.

The rest of the interview continues on for the next two hours and you get so much content you feel a little dizzy at the thought of having to cut over half of the episode. For the first time in the podcast’s history, you may have to split this into two episodes. Max doesn’t mind one bit, finding that he’s not as nervous as he thought he’d be with how easy he finds it talking to you. 

You wrap up the interview over an hour past the time you had told Max’s press officer it would last but neither of you make any movement to get up, despite both Shannon and Steve beginning to wrap things up. 

“I’m so sorry I kept you this long, Max. I know you’re not a huge fan of lengthy interviews.” 

Max just shrugs, “If all interviews were like this, I probably would say yes to a lot more of them.” 

You grin over at him as you rise, realizing the sun is setting outside and your stomach is aching for food. Max follows suit, although he feels a clench in his stomach realizing that his time with you is coming to an end. 

“Can I ask you something?” He says when Shannon and Steve walk out of the studio, leaving the two of you alone. 

You look up at him and nod earnestly, “Of course!” 

“Why didn’t you ask me about my childhood? Usually it’s one of the first things people ask me, especially in these kinds of interviews.” 

You shrug, face heating at being found out. “Like you, I do my research and I figured you might not want to talk about that part of your life. I want my guests to feel comfortable when they come on the show, not immediately put on the defensive. I guess I thought there were other more important topics…” 

Your words hang in the air, heavy between you two. Something in Max’s chest aches at the simple kindness you’ve extended him. It’s true, he doesn’t like revisiting his childhood very often, especially when it’s recorded and will be put on the internet. His dad was very much still in his life, obviously, and while he had done a lot of work to move past his childhood, it was still painful to talk about.  

“Thats…wow. Thank you.” Is all he can manage, voice thick with emotion. 

“Of course.” You murmur, reaching out to touch his elbow in what you hope comes across as a comforting gesture. 

Max’s eyes drop to where your slender fingers rest on his bare arm before a smile stretches back across his face. “I know it’s kind of last minute but you were saying earlier you’d never been to a race. We’re in Miami next weekend and I’d love it if you were my guest…” 

You can’t help the flutter in your chest at how nervous he appears standing before you. Your eyes dart over to Shannon, the official keeper of your schedule and are delighted when she nods vigorously, phone in hand with your calendar already pulled up. You made a mental note to give that girl a raise ASAP. “I would love to, Max.” 

“Yeah?” He sounds almost shocked that you had agreed so quickly. 

“Yeah.” You say, a hint of a giggle at the edge of your voice. 

“How about I take you out to dinner tonight and we can work out the details.” 

“Why Max Verstappen, I had no idea you were this smooth.” 

TheYappingHour posted

987,392 likes liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing, susiewolff, and others TheYappingHour SURPRISE! Part one of my interview with none other than 3 time F1 world champion Max Verstappen is live on all socials RIGHT NOW. (yeah, I said part 1! We both yapped so much you're getting a part two next week!) user9382 the chemistry between these two was OFF THE CHARTS >>>user111 ikr? i felt like i was interrupting something the entire hour. MaxVerstappen1 it was a pleasure meeting you! can't wait to see you in Miami this weekend! >>>user2999 MAX WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU CAN'T WAIT TO SEE HER IN MIAMI. >>>user999 stfu she is so coming to the Miami race?? MAX EMILIAN VERSTAPPEN. user3210 has she ever done a two parter before??? not even the Queen of the Netherlands got a two parter!! user9928 i don't think i've ever seen Max this relaxed during an interview EVER. >>>user222 seriously! He was like a little boy with a crush then entire time.

yourpersonalinsta posted

234,100 likes liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, michelle obama, and others yourpersonalinsta we yapped some more and stuffed our faces. til next time, maxie! (tagged: maxverstappen1) user999 not michelle obama herself in the likes maxverstappen1 you're going to be trouble in miami, aren't you? >>>yourpersonalinsta what do you think? ;) >>>user9932 oh my godddddd user028 this is the couple i didn't know i needed

tag list (some of you only requested to be on a series tag list but i am not organized enough for that. lmk if you want to be removed!! also fingers crossed this tag list works this time ffs. sorry!)

@anilovessadbooks, @shelbyteller, @formulaal, @martygraciesversion381, @longhairkoo, @samantha-chicago, @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland, @chlmtfilms , @inarabee @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom @lieutenantchaos @willowsnook @sltwins @linnygirl09 @powerfulmess @technicallypleasanttree @meglouise00 @mixedstyles @strawberryy-kiwii @secret-agents-stole-my-bunnies @unknownmystery22 @mrosales16 @charlesgirl16 @leclercdream

[mrsfancyferrari]

Need Saving

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

Song: Me and Your Mama by Childish Gambino

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

Word count: 10.8k

MASTERLIST - F1

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

★・・・・・・★ ★・・・・・・★ ★・・・・・・★

★・・・・・・★ ★・・・・・・★ ★・・・・・・★

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Panic surged through him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[sinofwriting]

Raised to Love - Max Verstappen (Dark Fic)

Words: 6,992 Summary: Drivers are shocked to find out that pretty much rookie Max Verstappen is married. Note(s)/Warnings: This fic is DARK! Taking place between 2002-2017. There's child abduction, mentions/talks of death, mentions/talks of underage sex, mentions/talks of sex, mentions/talks of periods, dubious consent. Jos is both somehow a better and worse person in this. Sophie and Jos are still married, Victoria and all of Max’s other siblings don’t exist. Inspired by Season 4 Episode 13 of Criminal Minds.

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2002

Tears are slipping down her face and she keeps rubbing at her eyes, small whines leaving her, but they won’t stop and her mom isn’t rubbing her back, trying to get her to calm down, her dad isn’t holding her and she cries harder. She wants her mom and dad, she wants them. But they aren’t here. She’s alone and in this room that’s cold and blank and she wants them.

She hiccups, eyes hurting and her hands can’t keep rubbing, tired of doing it. Sniffling, she turns on the small bed, burying her face in the pillow, even though her mom always tells her not to do it before turning her over. The tears fall faster now. She wants her mom. She wants her dad.

And now all she can think about is them sitting in the front of the car, completely still, not responding no matter how much she shouted or kicked at the back of her dads seat. How she was pulled out of the car through the window by a firefighter and how another one was talking about how her parents were dead.

They couldn’t be dead though, because her grandparents were dead, in heaven, her dad had told her. And they had been talking to each other just a minute ago. They were going to get dinner and candy because she had been a good girl. That thought had made her curl up in the firefighter’s arms, lip trembling, because she had been shouting and kicking the seat, she had been naughty.

And then when she got to the hospital, a nice nurse had given her candy despite her being bad and held her hand as another one cleaned her up. She even let her pick out a stuffed animal to have. It was okay, even though she kept asking where her parents were until another lady had come in. She had crouched down in front of and told her that her parents were dead.

She shakes her head at the memory of the lady’s face and her words. She didn’t want to believe that her mom and dad were dead. But they weren’t here, they should be here. They wouldn’t ever leave her by herself, alone, and in this room.

Lifting her head slightly, she sucks in a large breath of air, the pillow soaked in her tears and warm. As she takes another breath, she doesn’t hear the sound of the door opening and shutting.

She wants to bury her face in the pillow again, but her nose hurts from it and it’s gross and wet. Turning over, sits up, her small legs going up to her chest as she presses her back against the wall. It’s then that she notices the man in the room with her.

She stiffens at the sight, eyes going wide, and the blank expression that had been on his face softens.

“Hello.”

“Hi.” She greets, voice quiet as she wraps her arms around her legs.

“You were crying. Is everything okay?”

Her bottom lip trembles and she shakes her head. “My mom and dad,” Her voice breaks. “The lady told me they’re dead.”

“I’m sorry. Are you waiting for your grandparents or an aunt?”

She shakes her head.

He frowns and then he moves, sitting on the bed with her, though he is at the foot.

“What’s your name?”

Her voice is a little louder as she says it.

“My name is Jos.”

“Hi Jos.”

He smiles. “How old are you?”

“Four.”

“I have a son that turned five recently.”

Her arms loosen around her legs. “What’s his name?”

“Max. He’s at home right now, I think, trying to convince my wife to get a puppy.”

Her eyes widen and her arms drop, legs falling away from her chest. “Do you have a puppy? I’ve always wanted one.”

“No.” He laughs and she frowns. “But I want dogs, so does my wife and Max. We just have been waiting.”

“For what?’ She asks, head cocked to the side.

Jos laughs again. “Special occasion, I suppose.”

She frowns as one of the things the lady said to her as they were in the car on the way over pops into her head. “Jos. Do you think whoever I stay with will have dogs?”

“I don’t know.”

Her frown grows. “Do you think they’d let me get a dog?”

He shakes his head, “I don’t think so.”

“Oh.” Her voice is quiet.

“But, I’m sure I could talk to Anna about you coming home with me. That would be a special occasion. You and Max could both get your own dog.”

“Really?”

He nods. “Really.”

She scrambles towards him, throwing her arms around him. “Thank you, Jos!”

“Of course. Now let’s get you to your new home.”

—

“Do you know who’s coming today?”

Max nods, small brows furrowed together, looking so much like his father, she wants to take a picture. “My wife.”

She’s proud of the way his nose doesn’t wrinkle, no disgust clinging to his words. Max thinking girls were gross wouldn’t do.

“Papa never said, but is it the one I choose?”

Sophie smiles, remembering how Jos had shown him a bunch of girls and the way Max had seen the one and just kept looking, had easily chosen her. “Yes. Papa was able to get the one you chose.”

He smiles and she runs a hand through his hair. “Will they be here soon?”

She spares a look at the clock. “Yes. Papa had to drive a bit away, but he should be here soon. Why don’t you come and help me set up her room.”

It was pretty much already set up, but Max could rearrange some of the toys and books, place them how he’d like. She expects him to nod, eager, but he looks confused.

“But mama, if she’s my wife, why isn’t sleeping in my room?”

She coughs to hide a laugh. “You two are much too young for that, Max. And you don’t know each other yet. Maybe in a few years you two can share a room.” In ten years, maybe, she privately thinks.

“But what if I want to share a room now?”

Her eyes narrow. “Max.” His eyes drop to the floor and she sighs. “You two could have sleepovers in your room, not every night, but some nights if you’d like.”

He nods, but still doesn’t look at her. “Can I go help set up her room?”

“Of course.”

She watches fondly as Max clumsily copies things he’s seen her do when making his bed, adjusting the blankets, fluffing the pillows before he moves onto the small amount of toys she bought, not wanting to buy too many without knowing what the girl did and didn’t like.

He frowns at them before he’s darting out of the room, she thinks of calling after him, but she can hear him moving down the hallway and then into what she thinks is his room. Only a minute passes before he’s back, a stuffed animal in his grasp. Walking towards the bed, he carefully places the toy so it’s resting against the pillows and she nearly gasps seeing what it is.

“Max, that’s Leo.”

“I know.”

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to give her Leo. Leo’s yours.”

He shakes his head. “We’ll share. I want her to have it right now.” Her heart melts at the answer.

“Are you sure?” She double-checks.

“I’m sure.”

“Alright.”

2008

Crawling out of bed, she shivers as the cold air of her room hits her skin. Wrapping her arms around herself, she tiptoes away from her bed and to her door. One of her arms leaves her to slowly twist the knob, making sure it slowly opens. As soon as it’s open enough for her body to slip through, she does. Her feet taking an all too familiar path.

Opening the next door, she does the same as she did with hers, slipping through the tiniest gap possible before shutting it behind her. The words of the maid ring in her head now that she stands in the room. How wrong this is, how inappropriate it is, how wanton she is. She doesn’t know what wanton means, but the way she said it had made her flush, bottom lip trembling as she made herself smaller.

The reminder makes her hunch, teeth finding her lip and she wants to go back to her room, she doesn’t want to be wanton. But her room is cold and the nightmare she had is lurking in the back of her mind. And sure this room is cold too, but Max is here. And she knows if she slips under the covers with him that it will be warm and he’ll even at least wrap an arm around her if not his whole body.

A shiver hits her and she darts over to the bed, slipping under the covers.

“Flower?” Max mumbles.

“It’s me.” She says, feeling warm on the inside at the nickname he gave her six years ago when she met him.

He makes a small noise and then his whole body is curling around hers and she can’t help but sink into it, sink into him.

She tries to fall asleep, but the word wanton just rings in her mind.

“Max.” She whispers.

“Hmm.”

She twists in his arms, making them face to face. “What does wanton mean?”

“What?” His voice is full of sleep and his eyes are starting to open.

“What does wanton mean?”

His nose wrinkles, “I don’t know. Why?”

“Mrs. Loeh told me I was wanton.”

“I,” he’s squinting as he looks at her. “I don’t know. I’ll ask my mom at breakfast, okay?”

She nods before pressing closer to him. “Okay. Thank you, Max.”

“Of course, Flower.”

2012

She stares in shock at the blood on the toilet paper. “Sophie!” She calls, voice nearly a shriek. She knew what this was, Sophie had told her about her body changing, getting a period, but this. This couldn’t be normal. There was so much. It was nearly bleeding through the toilet paper before she let it go.

She hears two different voices say her name, one far louder and closer than the other and she starts to see the door knob turn. “Max, no!”

The doorknob stops. “What’s wrong?”

“I need Sophie.”

“Flower, what’s going on?” The knob started to turn again.

“Please, no!” She begs and tears are starting to form in her eyes. “I’ll tell you later, I just need Sophie.”

She watches as the door knob stays paused and then hears a sigh from Max before the doorknob is released.

“Max, go to the living room.”

She breathes a sigh of relief at Sophie’s voice.

“But mama.”

“Go.”

She can hear him stomping away and can imagine the frown on his face as he curses in his mind.

A small knock sounds on the door. “Can I come in, darling?”

“Please.”

Sophie easily slips inside the bathroom, shutting the door behind her quickly. “Oh, darling. What happened?”

She looks down at where her legs are pressed together. “I,” she hiccups. “I started my period.”

“Oh darling.” And Sophie is right beside her, giving her an affection tap of the fingertip to her temple. “It’s alright. I know, it’s a bit scary, huh?”

She nods. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much blood.”

“Well, it’s probably that heavy because this is your first cycle. Mine was like that as well, but it lightened up after a few months, and birth control helps as well with that.”

Blood rushes to her cheeks at the mention of birth control. “I’m a late bloomer, aren’t I?”

“A bit.” Sophie allows. “I told you about this two years ago for a reason. I didn’t think you’d be nearly fifteen.”

“Am I okay?”

“Of course. Everyone is a bit different. If you want though, we can talk about it with the doctor. Make sure that everything is okay.”

“Please?” She asks and Sophie smiles.

“I’ll schedule it right after this. Now, let me show you again everything you’re gonna need.”

She watches and listens intently as Sophie shows her everything. It’s overwhelming and she wants to cry, just lay in bed, bury her head in Max’s pillow and cry. She’s thankful when Sophie slips out of the bathroom as she still sits on the toilet. Is ever more thankful when as she begins to stand, pulling up her underwear and shorts and it’s like she can feel it wanting to drip out.

The pad in her underwear is weird, but nothing compared to the new weird sensation of feeling like she’s leaking. It makes her want to sit back on the toilet and never leave. What if she didn’t change her pad in time and bled through? The thought leaves her mortified and as she leaves the bathroom after washing her hands thoroughly, she darts into her bedroom, forgetting her promise to Max.

Laying on her bed, she makes a face, trying to find a comfortable position, everything feeling weird. Maybe she’d buy a pad or a mattress protector, maybe both with how weird this felt. It would help any mess that might happen as well if she leaked.

Rolling onto her side, she smiles at Moos. The ten-year-old dog looks back at her, head resting on her front paws. “Where’s Freckles?”

“The backyard.”

She turns, Max stands at the entrance of her room, a look she doesn’t think she’s ever seen on his face before.

“It’s later.”

Blood rushes to her face at the words, at the reminder that she promised she’d tell him what’s going on, and she has to tell him. She tells Max everything, always has. And he does the same to her. It’s why she found out when she was six that Max and her were going to get married, that he picked her. That and he was confused about her wanting to play house and how he had to play the husband because they were already husband and wife in his six-year-old mind.

She nearly smiles at the reminder that Max picked her. He’s told her a few times over the years about it. The memory is still so strong in his mind, despite it now being a decade ago. The way he had looked at a bunch of girls in an array of photos, but she immediately caught his eye, was drawn to her and the flower behind her ear.

He snaps his fingers and she can feel Moos stand up before she gets off the bed, no longer leaping in her old age. Max moves into the room, leaving the door open as Moos slips out before shutting it behind the dog.

“What happened?” He asks, approaching the bed and she cranes her neck to fully see his face.

Her face feels like it’s burning. It feels embarrassing telling Max this, about this, even though they’ve talked about far weirder and gross things. Maybe, and her eyes drop staring at the hollow of his throat as she thinks, it’s because this means they can finally have sex.

The thought alone makes her swallow, breaths turning a little shallow as she imagines it. Max and her have done a lot of fooling around since his birthday last year. He knows how to speed her heart up with just a brush of his fingers. She knows how much he loves the feeling of her boobs pressed against his chest, bare or covered. Their breaths intertwined with soft pants as they move together, at least one piece of clothing still separating them.

She’s broken away from the thoughts by a hand under her chin, drawing her face up.

“Flower.”

“I,” she pauses, eyes darting around before settling on his face when she feels his thumb and forefinger gently apply a little pressure to her chin. “I started my period.”

His brows are furrowed for a moment then his face smoothes out, mouth dropping into a ‘O’ shape, the fingers and hand under her chin disappearing.

“Are you hurting? Cramps?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “It just,” and her voice is quieter than before. “It feels gross, like leaking.”

His head cocks to the right. “Even with the pad thing? Is it not working?”

“It is. I think it’s just how it can feel.”

“I’m sorry. Can I do anything?”

She glances at the empty space in the bed next to her. “Lay with me?”

He smiles, a laugh shaking his body. “Of course, flower.”

2014

“I have an F1 seat.”

“You have an F1 seat.”

The shock is so clear on his face it makes her giggle and he immediately smiles, but that shock still lingers behind it.

“Max Verstappen,” She begins, watching as his eyebrows draw together, fingers twitching before his hands settle on her hips. “Youngest F1 driver ever, youngest to score points, youngest on the podium, youngest to win a grand prix.” She doesn’t know if the last three will be true, but she hopes they will be, thinks they will be.

“You think so? I mean, it’s just a seat in Toro Russo.”

“It’s not just a seat at Toro Russo.” She laughs, feeling flushed as his hands sneak beneath her top. “It’s an F1 seat, an F1 seat that you will do amazing in. I mean, Max. There’s never been an F1 driver younger than eighteen before.” She smoothes the slight furrow between his brows with her thumb before kissing that spot. “You are going to do amazing and achieve so much.” She pecks his lips. “I’m proud of you.”

His cheeks are pink at her words, her flutters a little at him blushing because of her, like she hasn’t seen it thousands of times before.

Brushing her fingers over the apples of his cheeks, she frowns. “Maxy.”

“Hmm?”

Her fingertips trail down to his jaw. “Let me get you a skin care routine? Please.” She adds, sticking her lip out a little.

“Flower.” He sighs, his left hand moving to span across the small of her back, pressing her closer.

“Please? You know I don’t care about the acne, but you’ll be the youngest on the grid, still in the thick of it. This will help. It won’t be anything complicated, either.”

He sighs, a small smile on his face. “Okay. But promise me nothing complicated. You won’t be there to remind me how to do it.”

“Nothing complicated.” She promises, beaming. “I’ll even write up a little instruction thing for you and you can call me every time you’re doing it, so we can do it together if you like.”

“Yeah? Even when I’m like eight hours behind or ahead and you’re sleeping.”

“Even then.”

“Oh.” She presses up on her toes in excitement and Max’s smile widens seeing it. “I got us new sheets.”

“New ones?”

She nods.

“Can I see them?” Voice going a little low and he’s thankful that his voice doesn’t crack. She never laughed when it did, but it was still embarrassing.

Her teeth find purchase in her bottom lip for a second, before she nods. “You can see my new underwear too.” A giggle leaves her at the way he groans, hands pressing her body closer and against his bulge.

2016

Max stares at the ceiling as his dad talks to someone on the phone. This is what they wanted. They wanted him here in the Red Bull seat. Getting here this early was amazing, proving how good he was in an F1 car. And escaping the nightmare that was Carlos and his father was also a plus, even if both of them had taken to glaring at Max every time they saw him.

Max was pretty sure they were betting on him crashing out this race, costing Red Bull money, and then he’d get booted back down and Carlos would get called up. He shook his head at the thought. That wouldn’t happen. He was good, he’d prove he should be in this seat, should be here this early. Because he did. Max was talented no matter what the other drivers said, or the journalists or the legends who told him he had no business in their sport. His jaw clenches, holding back a scoff. Their sport.

It makes him more grateful to his dad and mom. They had told him, prepared him for not being liked. He was aggressive on track, abrasive off to people he didn’t know well. They knew it would make things harder and they had made sure he knew that too. He’s grateful for his wife as well and he wishes she was here now with him for his first F1 race in the big leagues.

He had wanted her there for his first race at Toro Russo, but that hadn’t been an option. But now? Now that he got promoted up, maybe, he looks at his dad considering asking him before shaking his head. His dad would never go for it. Not because she’d be too much of a distraction but because they didn’t need to deal with more media attention, Max was more than sure of that. He nearly shudders thinking of when he had arrived at the track yesterday and today.

“Max.”

He sits up, spine straight. “Is everything okay?”

His dad smiles and Max’s shoulders loosen. “Yes. I have to go and meet a friend quickly. You will stay by Christian or Helmut if you leave the garage, understood?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good.” He nods. “Look over the data. We don’t need you crashing out in free practice of all things.”

He dives into the data as soon as his dad leaves. A thread of curiosity is in the back of Max’s mind as he looks it over. Talking to all the mechanics and engineers, getting a feel for them, just like he knows they are getting a feel for him.

When Helmut calls him over he wonders if by friend his dad really meant a friend of Helmut’s. His dad didn’t have many friends after all.

“How are you feeling?”

“Good.” Max nods. “I haven’t gotten into the car yet though.”

The older man nods, frowning like he nearly always is on race weekends. “You’ll do fine.”

“I will do my best.”

Helmut nods and Max takes the silent dismissal.

Standing towards the back of the garage, he looks at the track data displayed on one of the bigger screens. Seeing it displayed so large and clearly makes him breathe a little easier as he looks at it all. He doesn’t get to look at it long, however. The sound of his dad asking where he is breaking him away from the data and he steps out from where he had been tucked away.

His mouth opens, ready to greet his dad, but it clicks shut at the sight of her.

She smiles at him, but it’s just a bit wrong, too tight at the corners. It makes his chest ache, makes him want to snap and tell people to stop looking at her, makes him want to whisk her away so he can see his smile. “Hi Max.”

The quiet sound of her voice makes him move, striding towards her. “Flower.” He breathes just a step away from her before he brings her into his arms and she melts into him as he hides her face away from everyone else. “What are you doing here?” He asks, lips pressing to the side of her head.

“Jos got me a flight here. I couldn’t miss this race.”

His eyes flicker to his dad who’s standing behind her, looking at them, easily ignoring all the eyes of the Red Bull garage on them and the whispers that are starting. “Thank you.” He murmurs and his dad nods.

He pulls away just enough to look at her, his hands now framing her waist, hers resting on his chest. He feels breathless looking at her. Dressed in some pants, a shirt that he remembers his mom buying her last year for her birthday, the shoes that match his, she’s gorgeous and he can’t help but quickly kiss her. Their lips connect for just a second, but it’s long enough for her hand to land on his cheek, for him to feel the warm metal of her wedding ring and band.

“I missed you. Missed you so much.” He tells her as soon as they are in his driver’s room, alone.

She smiles at him, hands cupping his face, and he can’t help but lean into the touch, into her. Happy to see her smile, his smile. “I missed you too. How are you feeling?”

“Nervous.” He admits. “But I’m ready. I can do this. I’m ready for this.”

Her smile seems to grow. “You’ve got this.”

“Will you watch from the garage for me?”

“Will Jos be watching from there?”

He nods. “Always does.”

“Then yeah, I’ll watch from there.”

—

Daniel looks at the slip of a girl standing next to Jos, intrigued. She was young, as young as Max if not a bit younger, but more importantly she was hot. Nudging his new teammate, he tilts his head in her direction. “You never said you had a sister.”

The eighteen-year-old just looks at him and Daniel hates the way it’s somewhat unsettling. He was twenty-six, there shouldn’t be any reason for it to unsettle him. But as Daniel looks back over, he supposes most eighteen-year-olds don’t have dickhead near abusive dads that are Jos Verstappen. “I don’t have a sister.”

“Really? Hot cousin then?”

“Not my cousin either.” And before Daniel can say anything else Max is walking away from him over to his trainer.

“Alright then.” Daniel mutters to himself, eyes lingering on the girl before he goes to his own trainer.

—

“Daniel thinks you’re hot.”

Blood rushes to her cheeks and the shirt in her hands falls onto the floor. “What?”

“Daniel, before we got into the car for FP1, he was asking me about you.” His face is burning with anger.

“Thought you were my sister or my hot cousin.” Max scoffs.

“Oh.” Her voice sounds lost and her arms wrap around herself.

The anger softens on his face at the reaction and he wraps his arms around her from behind, exhaling when her arms loosen, hands resting on his arms, fingers stroking his skin. “You’re mine.” He breathes, dipping his head to press his lips against her neck, barely resisting the urge to leave a mark.

Her breathing comes out shaky and in her next breath, his pinky finger starts to dip below the waistband of her sleep shorts. “I’m yours. I’ve always been yours, Max.”

—

Max is shell shocked. He’s celebrating, screaming, throwing himself into the arms of his team, but behind his helmet, he’s shocked. He had hoped for points, dreamed of a podium, but a win? A win? That had never been in his wildest dreams for this weekend.

He’s guided over to the weighing station and then the first spot, a member of the team talking to him. His hands don’t shake as he removes his helmet and gloves. They don’t shake as he removes his balaclava either. Not when he clasps a few drivers’ hands. They shake as soon as he sees his flower.

She’s standing next to his dad, crying, nearly sobbing. He can tell from the pattern of her chest moving up and down. And he knows that he should be going over to get interviewed, but he ignores the team member trying to guide him, darting over to her. The people surrounding her, all wearing Red Bull shirts, cheer, patting him wherever they can reach, but he’s only focused on her. His hands enveloping her face as he kisses her.

She gasps into the kiss, her hands settling on his biceps before moving down to his wrists, fingers wrapping around them as she returns the kiss.

“You won, Max.” She’s breathless when they break apart. “You won.”

He grins at her, enjoying the shine to her eyes, the width of her smile. “I won.” It’s breathless as well, and a laugh follows it. “I won.”

“You won.” She laughs, quickly pressing another kiss to her lips before pushing him away. “Now go.” He nods, but leans in for one more kiss before leaving her to go to the post race interviews.

The questions are a blur to him and so are his answers. Except for the final one.

“Is there anyone you want to thank?”

“The team of course. I mean really without them this wouldn’t have been possible, we hoped for a podium, for points, a seemed out of reach with how the Mercedes have been performing though. My dad and mom as well. And my girl.” As he continues he fails to see the reactions from people with those two words, my girl.

The person interviewing him’s eyes are wide, almost having stumbled back. Nearly everyone from Red Bull has their jaw on the floor. Daniel though already feeling pissed from Max winning and not him has more anger coursing through him. Because seriously? He had been eyeing her up since Friday and she was with Max apparently? Max of all people? He scowls as his eyes land on her, she is far too pretty to be with Max.

Sebastian at the weighing station let out a disbelieving laugh, adrenaline was a hell of a thing and he hoped for Verstappen’s sake that the girl he kissed didn’t take his words to heart of him calling her his girl. He’d cool down later and most likely get embarrassed by the slip. Perhaps even angry, he was the type, after all.

A few of the other drivers share looks, shaking their heads and murmuring to each other that it wasn’t going to end well. It was a hell of a thing to say after getting a win, your first win, but PR was going to be all over him after and they all winced at the thought of what statement he’d have to make and put out in the next few hours or days.

His former teammate scoffs, “bullshit.” he spits. It should have been him in that Red Bull seat if anyone was going to replace Kyvat. He and his father had banked on Max doing something stupid, crashing the car, finishing out of the points, so he could get the seat like he should, but Max just couldn’t do that. Had to have a one-off fluke of a race. And now he was claiming he had a girlfriend. Probably some sort of PR stunt to make him look better, more stable, like an adult and not a kid squeezing his way into where he shouldn’t be.

Kimi lets out a small chuckle, one that Sebastian hears but doesn’t question him on. Of course, the kid would let it slip that he had a girlfriend. He had been hoping that Max would have made it until the end of the season or even next season, but it was fine. Kimi would just have to make sure to not make another bet with Minttu, it was getting a little embarrassing how much he kept losing to her. At least Kimi considers, he didn’t let it slip that they were married.

“Well, she’s pretty, I’ll give him that.” Jenson comments, looking at the girl Max had kissed, the one that must be his girl.

Fernando chuckles. “She is jail bait.”

“And taken.” He eyes her. “I’m a bit surprised he hasn’t mentioned her at all. I didn’t even know he was seeing someone. Did you?”

The Spanish driver shrugs. “We talk about racing not personal. And yes.” He adds. “I am shocked. Mainly because of that.” He nods his head in the direction of Jos, still stern faced, though Fernando had caught a smile on his face earlier.

Jenson lets out a sharp whistle. “Yeah, that is the surprising part. Wonder what Max had to do to get his dad to agree to that.”

He shudders, “I don’t want to know.”

“Yeah, best not to think about it.”

Max lets the podium celebrations wash over him, laughing when Kimi claps him on the shoulder as they leave, murmuring his congrats. Walking back towards the cool down room, out of sight from fans and cameras, Max takes a deep breath, heart still racing inside his chest. This was unbelievable.

He follows the FIA official as they direct them through another room, this one filled with some team personnel and such and his grin widens, feet picking up their pace as he scoops her into a hug, ignoring her squeal of protest.

“Max! You’re dripping in champagne.”

He holds her tight to him, face buried in her neck. “Good. Means you can shower with me.” She doesn’t say anything to that, but he knows that he’s flustered her with his whispered words. It makes him chuckle and he puts her on her feet, keeping her close, though. “I love you.” He murmurs.

“I love you too.”

He makes them keep standing there, his face still in her neck, at least a dozen eyes on them, but he needs this. Needs to hold her, needs to breathe her in, needs to feel her against him, needs her to calm him down. He wants to stay there forever, but before anyone can interrupt them, he pulls away. Pressing a kiss to her forehead before he lets her go.

“Go wait in my driver’s room, while I finish up.”

She nods, flashing him a small smile, before walking over to his trainer, who nods at him before guiding her out of the building and he knows to the Red Bull garage.

—

“Max, during your post race interview, you thanked quite a few people including and to quote you, my girl. Was that the girl you kissed today?”

Max is happy he’s already flushed from winning that they can’t see the way more blood rushes to his cheeks at the question. Red Bull had told him to expect at least one question that was personal during the conference because of the kiss, but he hadn’t been thinking it’d be so early.

“I think we have to remember,” Max’s eyebrows furrow at Sebastian speaking and he glances at the older driver. “That adrenaline is a hell of a thing. And we can’t hold something the kid says in the rush of a moment or does really against him.” Sebastian finishes before giving Max a wink, making his brows furrow more.

Was Sebastian trying to say that he didn’t mean to thank her, didn’t mean to kiss her? He can hear a few reporters mumbling, the scratch of pens against paper.

“To answer your question,” Max starts. “Yes, the girl I kissed was the one I thanked, that I called my girl. We’ve been together a while, she’s seen my whole career in karting now single-seater. She deserved thanks.”

Kimi lets out a small chuckle, leaning forward a bit to look around Max and see the puzzled expression on Sebastian’s face. Served the German right for thinking that Max misspoke and acted while high on his win.

—

“No girlfriend?” Daniel asks Max as they head into debrief.

“What?”

“No girlfriend?” Daniel repeats himself. “I haven’t seen her yet. She not here?”

Max sends him an odd look, “If you mean Y/N, no. She isn’t.”

He scoffs. “Of course, I mean, Y/N. Unless you’ve got more than one girlfriend. And if that’s the case, I call dibs on Y/N.”

The younger stops in his tracks, grabbing a fistful of Daniel’s shirt and yanking, making him stop as well.

“What?” Daniel laughs. “She’s hot, pretty, whatever you want to call it.” His laughter dies when he catches sight of Max’s face.

It was the face that everyone loved to talk about. The first thing that had been brought up when it was announced that Max had gotten an F1 seat. It wasn’t his age, though that was a close second. It was the look he’d get if something didn’t go his way on track, if someone smashed into him, made a risky move. It was the face that had to have been born from all the near fucking abusive shit that Jos was rumored to have done to Max.

It was narrowed eyes, glare sitting heavy and Daniel could feel sweat gathering on the back of his neck at the sight of it. Nostrils flared, lips in a thin line, but somehow Daniel just knew that as soon as Max spoke his mouth would look like it was gathered into a snarl.

Seeing it and seeing it directed at him, reminds Daniel how all of them had joked in 2014 about how Max was going to be so scary, just scare them shitless. It had been jokes because despite the rumors they had heard, the stories they had been told, none of them really believed it. It wasn’t because Max couldn’t have been some hotshot on the track with an aggressive style, refusing to back down and winning because of it. No, it was the fact that people thought anyone of them would be scared of it, would be wary of him, that made them all laugh. And then they’d seen him in an F1 car and suddenly all those rumors and stories came rushing back to them, because fuck they have might merit in them when it came to Formula 1 after all.

Daniel has the urge to reach for his phone and call Jules’ godson, Charles, and ask how the fuck he managed to race against Max for so long and never get terrified of him, on or off track. But before his fingers can even twitch to reach for it, Max is speaking and god, he does look like he’s snarling.

“Daniel, if you mention how my wife,” The Australian driver’s eyes widen and the word fuck starts bouncing around his head. “Looks hot one more time, I will crash into you, and I will take the fine, the penalty points, the promotion down, or the loss of my seat.”

“Okay.” Daniel clears his throat, the word coming out high-pitched. “Got it. I’ll stop talking.”

Max releases his shirt, fingers flexing, jaw shifting before the murderous look he had disappeared. “Good. Now let’s go, we are probably late for debrief.”

Daniel nods, silently following his teammate while the words what the fuck echo in his mind.

—

“So, Max is married.” Daniel says, as he sits with a bunch of drivers, downing a shot. “Yeah, Y/N, not his fucking girlfriend.”

“Daniel,” Jenson looks at the younger, eyebrow raised. “What exactly did you do?”

He winces, throwing another shot back and fuck he should’ve grabbed more than two. “Called her hot in front of him, again.” The last word comes out as a whisper, but the whole table hears it and they all shake their heads.

“Dude.”

“I know! But like the first time I didn’t know, alright? It was Spain, before free practice, I thought she was like his little sister or cousin. This time, I shouldn’t have done it, there happy?”

Kimi shakes his head. “I think the kerbs are going to your brain.”

Daniel scowls at the Finnish driver, but Sebastian thankfully steps in before he can tell him where to stick it.

“What happened this time? When you called her hot? Which to be fair she is.”

At Seb’s agreement, Daniel can’t help but shoot a look around, despite knowing that Max was in his hotel room and probably talking to his wife. The thought makes Daniel frown. “He, uh, he told me he’d crash into me and happily lose his seat if it came to it for crashing into me.”

The other four drivers look at him, Sebastian and Fernando looking with disbelief, while Kimi looks unsurprised, same with Jenson. “Are you sure you just called her hot?” Fernando checks.

He nods. “And pretty. I think it was pretty, hot, whatever you want to call it.”

“I don’t even want to know the context.” Kimi murmurs.

Daniel opens his mouth ready to say but gets a tap to the back of the head, making his mouth shut. “Let’s not do that tonight, alright.”

It’s near instinct to fight the words, because why not tonight, but he slumps in his seat, nodding at Jenson’s words. He didn’t have the energy for it anyway.

2017

“Max, put up a hell of a fight.”

Max’s eyebrows raise, “I didn’t know you knew my name.” He murmurs, the microphone still catching it, however.

Lewis lets out a laugh. “It’s your second win, right? Lots of pretty girls here to celebrate with tonight.”

The slight smile on his face from Daniel trying to poke at his ribs vanishes at Lewis’ words and he can hear Daniel’s sharp intake of breath, the journalists coming to life a bit. “Well, I don’t think my wife would appreciate that.” It’s deadpan, or at least he tries to make it deadpan, he didn’t actually want to make his PR officer’s life hell, but he knew there was a bit too much steel in it.

“Your what?”

Daniel leans forward, peering around Max. “Dude, where were you last year? It was all anyone was talking about at COTA.”

“You got married at COTA?”

“I got married in February 2016.”

“Aren’t you like twenty?”

Daniel peers even more around Max. “Once again, where have you been for the last year, two years?”

“Well,” a voice interrupts. “I think we can call this press conference to an end. Let Max celebrate his win and let Lewis come to terms with things.”

“Come to terms is putting it lightly.”

[ipushhimback]

we were drunk it happens - part 3

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4

pairing: lando norris x verstappen!reader warnings: pregnancy, jos verstappen words: 1.5 k

summary: Y/N find out she is pregnant. she doesn’t want to tell Lando as she was scared of his reaction.

taglist: @martygraciesversion381 / @l-vroom4 / @comicalivy / @sid-is-gr8

Fuck. That was the only thought in her head as she stared at the pregnancy test in front of her. She was on birth control. How the hell was she pregnant now.

This couldn’t be happening. She was only 22 years old. Definitely not ready to be a mom! And a single mom? No way she could do that. Oh my god. How should she tell Lando.

She took her phone and clicked on her brother’s contact. She really needed advice right now and who was better for that than her brother. He would probably be a bit upset but Y/N couldn’t really think of anyone else who could help her right now. After only one rang, Max answered.

“Hey, little one. What’s up? Everything alright?”, he asked.

“No, Max. Nothing is alright! Please. Can you come here? I need you.” Y/N felt tears welling up in her eyes and her voice broke.

“Of course. Are you hurt? Did something bad happen?” Over the phone, she heard how Max grabbed his keys as told Kelly he would have to leave. A second later she heard a door close.

“I am not hurt. No. Please just hurry.” She sank down against the cool tiles of the bathroom wall and just hung up. Max would be there soon. And then everything was going to be okay.

The doorbell rang and Y/N got up slowly to open it. When she did, her brother immediately went to hug her as he saw her wet cheeks.

“Hey. What happened. Did someone hurt you? Are you sick?”, Max asked as he leaned back a bit to look her in the eyes. “You know you can tell me everything, right?”

Y/N just held up the pregnancy test. There was no chance it was wrong. The word pregnant was clearly written across the little display in the white stick.

“That’s… yours? I assume?”, Max asked carefully.

“Of course it is mine! Why else would I stand in my fucking house and cry like someone died?! I don’t know what to do, Max. He will kill me if he finds out.” Well aware that she would make Max’ shirt completely wet, she buried her face in his grey shirt.

“Who will kill you? Who even is the father? Oh my god. It’s Lando, isn’t it. No way.” Max looked concerned, but now Y/N could also see he was a bit disappointed, even though he would never show it.

He was too much of a supportive brother. He would never show his disappointment, nor would he upset her on purpose.

“It’s ok. Everything is going to be alright. I promise. Do you want to tell him, already?”

Y/N shook her head furiously.

“No. He… he can’t know. We said no feelings. He really can’t know. Not yet.” Her brother just nodded while looking thoughtful.

“Do you… do you wanna keep it?” He looked worried as if he was scared that he might have said the wrong thing.

Y/N nodded. She thought about an abortion, but she simply couldn’t. It was her baby. And more importantly, it was her and Lando’s baby.

“I do. It is mine.” She placed her hand on her still flat belly.

“Ok. I just want you to know that Kelly and I will support you. No matter how you decide to raise it in the end. And hey, maybe your baby will be friends with ours in the end. They won’t have a huge age gap.” The Formula 1 driver laughed a bit.

“You are not disappointed?”, Y/N asked. She honestly would have thought that Max would be a bit mad, but here he was, being the most understanding person.

“Maybe a little. No… that’s not right. I am just a little scared. You are my little sister. And… I am not really disappointed just worried about you. But you know I will always support you, no matter what happens.” Max smiled at her which made Y/N a little happier.

“I am going to have a baby”, she whispered, more to herself than anyone else.

***

For over a week, Y/N had been feeling nauseous. The pregnancy made her tired, dizzy and she couldn’t keep any food down. Still, she told Max that she will attend the next grand prix. Monza. She was happy, because she slowly started to like F1 again. When she was younger, Monza had been her favorite grand prix and the atmosphere when the Ferraris were on the podium…

Like Seb had been saying. Everybody’s a Ferrari fan. Even if they’re not they are Ferrari fans.

Even though Y/N was looking forward to watching the race, she couldn’t help but feel nauseous as fuck. She threw up her whole breakfast earlier and now she just felt weak.

Because the last thing she wanted now was being alone, she had decided to go to the Ferrari garage where Charles’ girlfriend Alex already was. They have become quite good friends over the last weeks so Y/N enjoyed being around her. Together they were now staring at the tv in front of them. Observing the different cars and occasionally swearing when they were annoyed or too caught up in the moment.

At some point Y/N excused herself to head to the bathroom, needing to puke again. When she returned, Alex looked at her a bit worried.

“You look shitty today”, she said bluntly.

“Wow. Thank you. I didn’t see that already in the mirror or so…”

“No… I didn’t mean it like that, Y/N. More in an ‘are you okay’ way. Because seriously, you look like you’re about to faint. And I don’t want to explain that to Max later.” Alex looked at her, definitely worried.

“No. I am alright. It just happens sometimes.” Y/N suppressed the urge to throw up again and took a deep breath. “Let’s focus on the race, ok?”

Alex nodded hesitantly.

Y/N really wanted to tell Alex that she was pregnant, but she simply didn’t know how. Furthermore she wanted to tell all her friends she made over the last weeks together. Alex, Lily, Carmen, Rebecca. And of course, her childhood best friend.

A bit later, the race was finished. Charles came in P1, much to Alex’ joy, Max in P2 and Lando in P3. Everything was perfect, until it wasn’t.

She just went outside to head to the Red Bull garage but just as she came near, she heard a sharp voice.

“P2? And you are proud of yourself? Wipe that damn smile from your face, Max. You started from pole; you should have won easily. Didn’t I raise you better?”

Y/N froze outside and couldn’t move anymore. What was her dad doing here? Max didn’t know about it, did he?

Suddenly she felt like she might really faint. Black spots were dancing in front of her eyes, and she couldn’t breathe anymore. She hasn’t seen her dad in at least three years. And honestly, she was glad about it. She didn’t want him in her life anymore.

Y/N knew that Max didn’t have as much of a problem with Jos as she did, but he still didn’t exactly like it when his dad was complaining about him being P2 in a race. She knew he would beat himself up for it, as it would make him believe he was terrible at what he does.

“Y/N? Are you ok?”, she heard a voice say. Lando.

“Uhm. Yes. Everything’s alright.”

Lando eyed her.

“You don’t look like you’re alright… You’re pale and you look like you just saw a ghost. Did something happen? Are you not feeling well?”, he asked.

“No. Seriously everything’s alright.” But in that moment Max walked around the corner, and Jos was just behind him.

“Oh. Y/N. Nice to see you again after you’ve been ignoring my calls for what now… three years? And still living in your brother’s shadow I see.” Jos laughed and Y/N felt like she wanted to die.

She felt tears welling up in her eyes and her chest tightened. The nausea was back as well, and she hated it. Why couldn’t she just live in a normal family?

“Are you alright, Y/N?”, Max asked from where he was standing. His sister just nodded before turning around and walking to Max’ driver’s room.

“Great, dad. Well, done.”, she heard Max say to their dad behind her. But she just started crying. Damn pregnancy hormones.

A little later when she sat on a small couch in the room, she heard a knock on the door. Max.

“Can I come in please?”, he asked while he was already opening the door. “I didn’t know he would be here, I promise, I would have told you. I wouldn’t want to hurt you or even the baby.”

But exactly then, Y/N saw Lando in front of the wooden door. He looked at her with wide eyes the shock evident in his eyes.

“A baby?”

A/N: sorry it took me so long to write this part but i was so tired thanks to school i didn’t have the energy to write a lot. also updates to the next fics and what i am writing etc is on my pinned post / intro post

[mv1simp]

Dark Paradise ♥️

Max Verstappen x Best Friend’s Lil Sister!Reader

everytime I close my eyes, it’s like a dark paradise, no one compares to you...

in which your pining for your older brother’s handsome best friend, Max Verstappen, results in him finally giving you his affections after you hatch a diabolical plan. too bad you had no idea max was far more diabolical than you!! (he can match your freak) 🥺

content includes: PURE SMUT LOL, Dubcon, dark!max, drunk reader, innocent virgin reader, manipulation, daddy kink, spit kink, size kink, dom/sub vibes. 18+ MDNI. this is embarrassing i was bored and horny and ended up writing 5.5k??

your older brother’s best friend!max has always ignored you even though you’ve had a crush on him since you were little. it didn’t matter that your families had grown up together and you had attended all his karting races since you were a kid, cheering him and your brother on from the sidelines, or that you were always there with your cute smile and pigtails to say you did so good, maxie, next time for sure when he had his rare losses, or when he was 21 and fighting for his first championship and his father’s expectations were heavier than ever and he didn’t have to explain anything to you, who grew up in a household with a father very much like jos and would rub his arm in a comforting way, an understanding look in your eyes everytime he and his dad fought. it all didn’t matter cause despite your constant affections, max still acted like he couldn’t care less about you whenever you saw him, the only thing seemingly on his mind being racing.

except tonight -

tonight, he’s forced to take little innocent virgin!you home after you get too drunk at a party. you’re whining in defeat, cheeks puffed out against your pink lipglossed lips, pouting and all, cuz you had worn the perfect lil outfit in all his favourite colors, your sexy curves on display and makeup done to perfection, just how you knew he liked it from the one time he had complimented it. and you had a plan - to show him that you were all grown up, to make max go crazy over you for once instead - and you were just in the middle of flirting with Cha, innocently fluttering your lashes at the handsome Monegasque driver who had none of max’s coldness and was all to happy to amuse your attentions on him - when your stupid older brother had shown up on the dance floor and demanded max drop you home on his way back to his, putting an early end to your plan to finally make out with the Dutch champion tonight!!

instead of making out with you in a steamy session in a dark club corner that you had imagined, he’s guiding you into his sleek expensive Aston Martin, large hands coming into contact with your perky lil tits and soft waist as he buckles you in, making you moan and giggle sloppily, all the alcohol loosening all your inhibitions and making your deepest fantasies spill out as he settles into the drivers seat, sorryy maxie this just reminds me of a naughty dream i had once with you inside the cockpit of your red bull car

the tall Dutch man is silent as he levels an intense stare at you and reaches his hand up to your face and you gasp, thinking your dream is coming true - only for him to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear before turning away and starting the car. you pout, embarrassed, thinking that your plan failed, and are silent for the rest of the ride, your only solace being his warm palm resting on top of your thick thigh, easily wrapping around the width of it.

he helps you out of the car without any prompts, bending down to pick you up and place you over his big shoulder when you stumble in your strappy gold high heels, one hand gently on your ass to secure you. You giggle again as he crossed the threshold into the apartment, giddy from the attention and physical touch you’re getting from him, and you reach down to smack his bum with a drunken laugh.

you feel the front of his chest rumble at your slap and it sends a shiver right in between your legs, to your little pussy which had already started becoming soaked to moment you had seen him across the club that night, in a plain muscle tee which stretched across his broad shoulders and an expression even stormier than usual as his eyes met yours across the club, narrowing as he watched you rub your pretty pink manicured fingers up and down Charles’ biceps.

he sets you down and you blink cuz this isn’t your house, omg maxie is this your penthouse? you’re looking around in awe cause you’ve never been allowed over before. you’re so distracted that you don’t notice the smirk on his face as his ice blue eyes darken looking at you twirling around his living room. he palms his aching cock and thanks whatever fucked up god let him get lucky tonight - just you and him, finally alone - and he knows just how eager you’ve always been to please him. he hasn’t missed the pining, lovesick looks you always shoot him, the jealous stares at his latest model girlfriend of the month. He admits that he never took it seriously at first, seeing you just as a little sister-

but fuck you had come back last summer after finishing college - with your mechanical engineering degree and first class honours to make your father proud - looking like his own personal wet dream. Cute lil perky tits and a juicy ass squeezed into the tightest dresses in pastel florals, highlighting your sun kissed tan skin, with your eyelined wide doe eyes as you gazed up at him completing your innocent look. But he knew firsthand you were anything but innocent when he walked past you sunbathing in your new string bikinis, tits pushed up fully on display with your nose buried in one of your romance novels. He caught a glimpse of a sentence on his way past - he shoved his hot, aching member into her warm heat as she moaned in pleasure and begged him for more, more - making his eyes widen before he smirked, this is the garbage you had always been reading? He knew you weren’t innocent when he was sleeping over in the guest room neighbouring your bedroom and heard your cute little voice moan for him in the dead of the night, maxie please please please i want you, I need it, please maxie make me come accompanied by the quiet buzz of your tiny baby pink bullet vibrator. Fuck, that had been hot. That had been the start of max’s own twisted fantasies about fucking you, owning you, completely corrupting you - that he hadn’t acted on out of loyalty to your brother, out of the expectation that the drivers should only be with models and not with innocent childhood friends who now worked at the Ferrari engineering team. After all, there were plenty of hot girls throwing themselves at his feet and it was easy enough to pick one, fuck them from the back, and pretending it was your sweet innocent face instead that looked up at him, begging for more.

and oh, did he miss your face, because you had made a point this year to avoid acting like his stupid, lovesick fangirl and move on after catching wind through the Monaco rumour mill of his weekly hookups. You’re a grown woman now, with a job and a new glow up, and you don’t need him!! - or so you keep having to tell yourself.

then, a few months ago, he’s took out his fourth world championship and everyone, including you who had been invited to tag along with your brother, had been sending it in an absolute rager of a yacht party that red bull had thrown when he stumbled upon a whispered conversation you were having with your girlfriends. how can you still be a virgin?? you went through college without a single one night stand? Girl, you need to get dicked down immediately! your best friend’s voice had been slightly raised in shock, making it all to easy for max to overhear and stop outside the secluded room, out of your view. You giggled, drunk, at the scandalized look on your friends face, I know, i know!! I just can’t do it, it all goes too fast for me and i can’t get turned on everytime i try to hook up with guy, ya know? So I’m just going to save myself for when i meet the guy I’m in love with.

your friend gave you a knowing look, a guy you love -meaning max, right? you flushed at her words, adamantly denying it. No! No, I’m so over him. He’s such a player, and always so arrogant just cause he can drive a car fast. Besides, my big bro said max only won the championship by being a dirty driver, he has no class at all. I support Charles now!

your words had instantly made max hard, cause no fucking way, on top of this perfect girl who seemed to always know everything about him, always knew what to say, understood him in a way none of his previous girlfriends ever had - this girl was still a virgin because the only one she was in love with was him? there was no more resolve left in max, he was going to absolutely ruin you. he’d made things difficult for himself by ignoring your attention for so long, to the point you were clearly angry with him and were calling him stupid names like dirty driver. but that didn’t matter. Whatever max wanted, he always got - and right now, with you dancing around his luxurious living room, he was going to take what he wanted - your sweet, virgin pussy - even if you weren’t ready to give it to him so easily. you’d understand later, he was sure. After all, you were always going to be his anyways - claiming your virginity was just his way of marking his territory.

Schat, he calls, drawing your attention back to him and you giddily run back into his arms, laughing in delight as he runs his hands up your waist, to your cute face and tilting your chin up before finally, finally meeting your lips in a sweet kiss. you sigh breathily into it, he feels so good and so warm and so big against you, and you push yourself closer to his muscular chest, your tits flush against him, pulling at his tshirt in an effort to get it off and he breaks free for a second to easily pull it off himself for you. Good girl, my sweet girl, mihn liefje, always so beautiful for me, aren’t you? Your head spins from all the praise max bestows on you, the mixed dutch and english words that you’d only ever dreamt of hearing from him. his palm unexpectedly drops down from your waist then to your juicy ass, squeezing aggressively and you can’t help the gasp that comes out of you. Max immediately slides his tongue into your open mouth, turning the innocent romantic kiss into a dirty, steamy make out - just what you always wanted!! you’re internally squealing in your success, patting yourself on the back for your clever plan. too bad you could never have predicted just how little control you had over the situation and that you were instead exactly where max wanted you ❤️

you trust max soooo much and he’s sooo dreamy and you’re so caught up in him that you can’t keep track of what happens next. you can’t figure out how you suddenly ending up in his lap with his large hand up your miniskirt, pumping a thick finger in and out of your tight little pussy, making loud obscene shlick shlick shlick noises with each movement as he buries it right until you can feel the cool kiss of the metal ring he wears. his other hand is locked around your throat, replacing the sparkly choker you were wearing earlier, and your skimpy white lacey g-string is stuffed in your mouth, already drenched in your drool. but you don’t want to annoy him by asking dumb questions when he’s finally paying attention to you, instead saying please maxie please I’ll be so good as you lean against him and continue to grind your thick ass back against his - phone? you ask dumbly.

he throws his head back and laughs and you get starry eyed hearing it, so entranced that you dont even notice as he unzips himself and takes his thick veiny cock out until he starts filthily slapping it against your little clit, making you squeal and jump away from it with little success as his strong arms cage you from behind against his broad chest.

!! its so big maxie, im scared, it wont fit, please maxie, its all too fast- you start whining frantically when he ever so gently removes your ruined panties from your mouth, rubbing the pad of his thumb against your wet lips, mentally making a note to abuse this hole of yours on the next round.

but schatje, you did this to me, my pretty girl, this is all cuz of you, because you’re always wearin those cute lil’ dresses and bending over and shaking ur ass when I come visit, cuz you were trying to make me jealous tonight by grinding on Charles, and now you have to fix it, right liefdje? Don’t act like this isn’t what you planned, you secretly wanted to be a dirty slut for me all along, didn’t you?

his rough accented voice whispering filthy things in your ear, switching between praise and pure filth, makes you even more whiny and desperate for him, writhing around on his thick thighs and he slaps your plump ass to punish you for teasing him again. His roughness making you squeal, eyes rolling and tongue slipping out of your mouth when one of his thighs, still covered by his denim jeans, part your legs wide open and push up against your sopping wet pussy.

seeing your expression, max doesn’t waste a second in pulling your throat back against his shoulder and dropping a ball of his spit right into your open mouth. he grins when your eyes practically develop hearts in them from the filthy treatment and your pussy flutters around his thick fingers as he renters you with two fingers this time - he always knew you were gonna be such a good, obedient cockdrunk whore for him.

here, don’t worry schat, I’ll be nice for you, jus’, just the tip, okay? He soothes, pressing gentle wet kisses along your exposed neck, lulling you into a false sense of safety so you furiously nod and drool some more when he tells you to be a good girl, his stupid lil slut, and glides the pink, leaking tip of his cock into your folds. Guides it back and forth, up and down, coating himself in your juices until he feels you go completely lax in his arms, overwhelmed by how good he makes you feel. it’s already soo wet and soo sticky but it doesn’t matter cause maxie promised he was wearing a condom…right? Right?

shhh yes schatje, yes, it’s just so wet cuz I - he easily leans forward over your petite, half undressed frame and spits again, this time his saliva landing right on your exposed clit- I’m just making your sweet pussy nice and wet for me, yeah? the pounding in your head gets even worse because ohmygod maxie, it feels soo good, ah, ah, ahh!

you’re in cloud 9, living out your wildest fantasies in max’s lap, so clouded in lust you don’t even look down again when you start to feel an aching stretch between your legs. if you’d looked you would’ve seen that max had already broken his promise and had bullied a good third of his big, aching cock into your pussy. by the time you collect yourself enough to notice how far inside he was and open your mouth to protest, he manoeuvres you off him easily, making you cry out at the loss of him, and lifts you with no struggle and carries you into his bedroom, where the Monaco full moon streams in through open French doors, discarding his pants and boxers on the way. You tightly wrap your legs around his rock hard waist, grinding your desperate pussy against his abs while leaning up to join in another filthy open mouthed kiss, drool leaking out the sides of your mouth.

he tosses you onto his king size bed - you cant believe you’re finally in his bed!! - and holds both your wrists down above your head with one hand, the other snaking down your body, squeezing your tits and pinching your swollen areolas that peeked at him over the edge of your top. Gods, liefje, he groans into your mouth, unable to control himself from saying all the dark things he’d been thinking. how’d i get so lucky, to have the perfect little slut below me, under me like this, desperate to get a taste of my cock, huh? Practically beggin’ me to fuck you. How are you going to explain yourself to your brother, when he asks why you can’t walk tomorrow? Maybe I should just take a photo of you right now and send it to him to save you the trouble. So he knows next time he pisses me off it’ll be his fucking filthy slut of a baby sister who pays the price with her sweet - his fingers travel down, find their way to your clit again, toying with it in well practised circular motions - little - he dips his head downwards, licking a single stripe straight up your pussy to collect your juices before spitting it out all over where his fingers now entered you - needy, pussy?

you can’t stop crying now from how overstimulated you feel from the blinding pleasure, from max’s fingers and tongue knowing exactly how to make you reach your peak and to his toxic words that should shock and scare you but instead just make you more turned on. i’m not- you whine - mmmfph, im not slutty, im a good girl, i- ah! You can’t tell big bro about this, please maxie, I didn’t mean to do this, I - ahh!

your pathetic cockdrunk attempts at denying his claims get cut off as max smirks down at you while speeding up the pace of his fingers which slide in and out easily given how soaked you are. go on, liefje, go on and come on my fingers like a good little girl. show my fingers what it’ll feel like when my cock gets to have your sweet pussy cumming around me instead. Your eyes start to roll back as you approach your first ever orgasm, powerless to stop his other hand which releases your wrists and moves to rip your pathetic excuse of a crop top completely off, flinging it the side, with your cute miniskirt that was bunched up around your waist joining shortly after. max’s dark gaze greedily roams upon your fully exposed form, his cock hardening again at the sight of your tits that heave with every breath you take and your cute, soft little tummy that he now presses down on to while he slides in another thick finger, tipping you over the edge. ah! Ah! Max! Ohmygod, im cumming, ahh! You scream out incoherent noises in pure pleasure, trying to move away from the intense new sensation but max’s large palm, splayed around your waist, easily holds you fixed in place.

good girl, you did so good f’me, sweetheart, max cooes as you start to ride yourself out on the final waves of orgasm on his fingers, now finally adjusted to the stretch. He smirks darkly down at the fucked out, blissful expression on your face as you gaze up at him adoringly with loving eyes. He has you right where he wants you - obedient, eager to please him, ready to say yes to whatever nasty, depraved things he wants to do next to your tight little holes.

withdrawing his fingers from you, eliciting a whine, he brings them up to his mouth and licks away the taste of your cum. You’re immediately breathless by how fucking hot he looks, unable to look away from his eyes as he speaks. Mmm, so sweet schat, you taste so fuckin’ sweet - just how I imagined. Next time I’ll make you cum on my tongue.

omg!! Your pussy flutters around nothing and your heart starts beating rapidly at this revelation from max, he had imagined what eating you out would feel like? max uses your distracted thoughts to grab your hands in his, laying them outstretched by your sides as he intertwines your fingers together. He’s so romantic, you think dreamily, naively unaware that this was the perfect position for him to hold you down while hungrily eyeing your delectable kissable tits and wet pussy as he lowered himself on top of you. You welcome the warm, heavy feeling of his built chest against your soft one as he leans down to recapture your lips in another slow, open mouthed wet kiss, obscene loud slurping noises filling the summer air as you lovingly make out and moan against each others lips.

Too bad max had much darker thoughts on his mind - first of which involved getting his painfully rock hard cock wet inside your virgin pussy!!

Liefje, you trust me right? Trust that I won’t hurt you, I’ll always do what’s best for you? Even if it’s not what you want right now? He asks, pulling back and looking into your innocent large doe eyes. You nod quickly, yes maxie, of course maxie, I trust you, whatever you want, whatever you say is right - you quickly slur, still drunk from the shots you had downed earlier. he was so sweet to make sure you were comfortable making out while naked!! You eagerly chased his lips, making him smugly smirk again at how desperate he’d already made you to feel his tongue again, so eager that you had completely missed the sinister undertone max’s words had had.

those were all the words max needed to fully defile you tonight. Well - if he’s being honest, which he rarely was - he would have taken it all the way even if you hadn’t said so, even if you’d become so overwhelmed by your first orgasm that you had passed out right there on his fingers!! regardless, this worked in his favour to use against you tomorrow morning when you woke up realizing that you couldn’t blame max for anything, only yourself, cuz you had begged and begged him to do whatever he wanted after all. He was just giving you what he knew you secretly desired but were too innocent to ask for ❤️

Recapturing your lips with his, max slowly slides his cocktip into your creamy folds, this time not pausing to stop even once. He drowns out your cute squeals of suprise and discomfort with his large tongue that he shoves down your drooling throat, your fingers weakly trying to push against his but unable to move from where he has locked them into position.

Fuckin’ finally, he moans against your lips as he slides in over halfway, impressed with the way you were managing to keep fairly still against the intrusion for your first time. Max knew he was considering big, especially for your short frame, but here you were taking his dick like a champ. With one last - and this time innocent, kiss, max now tilts his head slightly so he could see your expression. you blink up at him, feeling so stuffed, stupidly voicing that you don’t remember his tip feeling so big earlier, enquiring why he had stopped kissin-

want to see your pretty lil’ face, shatjze, he explains. Want to see what you’ll look like when you see everything I’m going to do you, all the ways I’m going to ruin you for anyone else but me.

you’re looking so delightfully confused now, unsure what he is going to go, and max feels blood rushing to his hard cock with the twisted desire he’s filled with at the fact that you’re so innocent, so naive, so dumb for him that you haven’t realized what he’s planning on claiming from you tonight! You open your mouth to ask but before you can say anything he’s bottomed out completely, his huge cock stretching out your tight little virgin hole. Your eyes widen and your mouth drops open from the impossible stretch, tears gathering in the corner of your eyes - his huge fingers were nothing compared to the size of his cock. max’s head roars in pleasure from seeing the look on your face when he basically splits you in half on him, and he can’t resist spitting another large glob into your open mouth again, smirking as it successfully quietens down the confused, high pitched moans you’d started to make - Max, ah! maxie, you said just the tip, mmfh, you promised, ah! Oh! What about the condo-

Giving you a few minutes to adjust to his size - he wanted to make you addicting to the pleasure of his cock after all, not be scared of it - he idly traces the shape of your swollen, red lips with his broad thumb. shhhh, shhh, snoepje, just relax for me,yeah? Let it happen, this is what you wanted, yeah? To get fucked on my thick cock? That’s what dirty little sluts like you want, isn’t it? It feels sooo much better doing it raw, trust me, you’ll be begging for my cum inside you soon enough…but I’ll pull out, okay schat? I promise.

He smirks when he feels you go weak at his authoritative words, obeying his commands and relaxing as your mind turns gooey from pleasure and you begin moaning obscenely. He allows you to gently remove your hands from his grip and wrap them around his broad shoulders, handing all your power over to him as you go completely blank, ready to be his submissive pet. So- you’re so m-mean, maxie you whine out pathetically with your eyes screwed shut from the feeling of him, tears dripping down your chubby cheeks, making him laugh again. You can take it, schatje. You and your perfect little pussy were made for me. It feels so good, doesn’t it? Letting yourself get completely stuffed my cock?

Still circling your lips gently with his thumb as you nod at his dirty words, Max now slowly pulls his aching cock out of your tight core, making your dazed eyes open at him in confusion a second time. Was that- was that it? Is it done? Your innocent look just drove max wilder. He keeps going under just his tip is left inside you, and then with a sick, twisted smile he slams balls deep back home inside you while shoving his thumb inside your wet mouth. Your scream of pleasure and pain is drowned out by the obscene smack smack smack sounds of his cock fucking into you with a brutal pace, and you choke around his thumb that’s deep in your mouth, gagging on it with more of your shared saliva spilling around your mouth, unable to protest max’s complete betrayal of his earlier promise. Fuck yeah, that’s right babygirl, I’m going to fucking ruin your filthy little pussy, gonna mold it to the shape of my cock so you can only every come around my cock, no one else’s.

max’s mean mean words were just so hot!! He had been holding back, sweet talking you earlier just to trick you into letting him fuck his fat cock into you and you had totally let him. It felt soooo good, you couldn’t even be mad at him for it, your nails digging into his back muscles from the intensity of pleasure as he shifted his hands to your waist, fuckin you dumb up and down on his massive cock, the wet obscene sounds of your shared juices as he slammed into you, shlick shlick shlick, big balls against your juicy ass only making it hotter for you both. thank god he’s gonna pull out, you thought!! If there was so much precum already you couldn’t imagine how much there would be if he came inside, you would have been getting pregnant for sure!

the thought sends you into another dizzying wave of pleasure, and you start babbling all the filthy filthy thoughts that had been buried inside you, just for maxie, as he thrusts into you with that wicked smirk on his face. Mmfhhh, fuck yes maxie, daddy, please please please, it feels soooo good! Ahh! max’s rhythm stutters for a second, caught off guard at the word that you had accidentally slipped out - none of his past gf’s had been quite as dirty mouthed as you - before deciding that it was fucking hot and leaning down to claim your bruised lips in a searing kiss and squeezing a large hand around your throat. Fuck yes, say that again, you dirty fucking slut, say my name-

you has no qualms following Max’s orders, begging daddy please please make me come, mmmdh’make me cum ar-aroun’ your cock, ahh!

max groaned at the vision of you underneath him, looking positively debauched. Your eyeliner was smudged, lipgloss long worn out and lips swollen and bitten, your neck bruised from his hickies and and your perfect tits bouncing with every hard thrust. lifting your legs up around his waist, he fucked into you at a deeper angle, making you scream again in pleasure from his cock and his voice, that got deeper and stronger in his Dutch accent as he got more turned on. Yeah, you like this, huh? You like when daddy fucks you like that, don’t you? Neuken, een vuile slet. Fuck! So good for me, begging for my cock, cause I’m the only one who can do it for you, huh? You like calling me a dirty driver and then screaming my name as I take your virginity, huh? Your eyes widen as his words pierce through your lust addled brain. Maxie, ah, how did you know-ahh!

You’re interrupted by a rough smack on your ass, so strong it renders you speechless - after all, your maxie is the fastest driver on the grid, his grip strength is unparrallelled! answer me, slut he growls, answer me, tell me, does it feel good being my perfect little fuckdoll? When I treat you like the worthless cocksleeve you are? Tell me how much you want my cock in you, beg me for it

your second orgasm starts to rapidly approach you from the positively filthy dirty talk - he knows just how to make your inner whore come out for him. ohmygod yes maxie, yes, it f-feels so so good, please, I need your cock, I need it so bad, I can’t live without it, please maxie- your eyes start to roll back again, tongue drooling and dripping spit down your chin.

Max grins wickedly down at you. Fuck yes, this is exactly what he wanted, so cockdrunk for him there isn’t a single sane thought left within you - and especially not to remember his promise of pulling out. Sensing his own impending finish, he manoeuvres you again, this time by pulling out and flipping you around onto your side, settling down behind you with your legs spread wide, tossed open across his. He bullies his cock into you again, and you throw your head back against his shoulder, moaning and begging again for more more more, yes maxie, only you can do this to me, I saved my virginity just for you, ah! Please please please maxie I need to cum, I need it now!!

Neuken. Max slips into Dutch as you both approach your orgasm, the new position giving him easy access to fondle your tits and circle your clit, his sweaty forehead and matted hair falling onto your neck to place wet kisses along your collarbone. Fuck, this pussy will be the death of me, if only I knew your pussy would be so good t’me, you would’ve been mine a long long time ago.

His fingers drift from your clit and go lower, past his dick sliding in and out of your pussy and circle your hole - your other tight little hole, and you moan wantonly, thrusting back against him - which is an effort considering how he’s controlling the pace, bouncing you like a ragdoll on his cock. He chuckles darkly, next time I’ll take your virginity here too, huh? My lil slut saved all her sweet holes for daddy, right? Fuck! Come all over my fat cock for me, come for me now liefje, let me feel your sweet pussy tightening around me again, fuck yes-

this final promise send you over the edge and you cum together with one final thrust from max, reaching up to pull him forward by his hair and slot your lips together in a sweet kiss as he cums and cums and cums in you. he doesn’t move for a while as you both come down from your high, panting heavily, wanting to plugging your cute lil pussy up, before eventually pulling out when sleep starts to creep in. the wet sound of his copious amount of cum spilling out around your pussy makes you moan tiredly again and max can’t help himself from lightly fingering your pussy again, pushing the cum inside.

You whine, too overstimulated and he chuckles, conceding that you’d had enough for one night. Another time, he promises himself. And next time he’d take a photo to look back at later - a photo with you passed out from exhaustion, with his cum dripping down from your fucked out pussy to your twitching back hole - to jerk off too when he’s away on a race or to send to your brother or Charles if they need a reminder just who you belong too. Who’s he kidding - he doesn’t need a photo, he’ll just keep you by his side at all times, with a big diamond on your finger so it’s clear you’re his.

Pressing a sweet kiss to your shoulder, he looks down at you as you tiredly smile at him, starting to doze off. Love you maxie, you whisper easily before passing out, hearing his gentle love you too, mein schat. He wraps you comfortably in his arms after wiping you off with a clean towel.

He should’ve done this a long long time ago. Doesn’t matter now, you were his now, always, and now that he’d marked you he was never, ever letting you go ❤️

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A/N: yeah so this is just pure smut, idk I have no explanation or defence for this being my first literal post, my apologies to everyone who might need to be doused in holy water after reading this. Hope you enjoyed!