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pucksandpower · 1 year ago

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Fairytale

Charles Leclerc x Princess of Monaco!Reader

Summary: Charles Leclerc has everything he could ask for (off the track, at least) including a fairytale romance … except no one actually believes that his girlfriend is really his girlfriend

Charles sighs as he walks into the drivers’ lounge, bracing himself for the inevitable teasing. Ever since he had casually mentioned having a girlfriend, and more specifically who the girlfriend in question is, his friends have been merciless.

“Wow, if it isn’t Prince Charles in the flesh! Back from another romantic getaway with his imaginary princess,” Max laughs as he enters.

“Come on mates, lay off,” Charles pleads half-heartedly. He knows it is useless.

“I just don’t get it,” Lando chimes in. “There’s no shame in admitting that you��re single. We’re racing drivers, we don’t exactly always have time for relationships.”

“Maybe his standards are too high,” Pierre suggests. “He’s actually holding out for real royalty or something.”

The others laugh as Charles feels his face grow warm. If only they believed him.

“You know what you need?” Carlos grins. “A nice Spanish girl to set you up with. My sister’s friend Elena is single, I could give you her number.”

Charles rolls his eyes. “I told you, I have a girlfriend. Why is that so hard to believe?”

“Because we’ve never seen her!” Max exclaims. “You talk about her all the time but she never comes to races or appears in photos. She might as well be a unicorn.”

“Maybe she’s just embarrassed to be seen with Charles,” Lando teases.

Charles frowns, stung by Lando’s words. If only they knew the truth. The reality is that his girlfriend is extremely famous in her own right and values the little privacy she has left too much to be seen at races. Her life is already public enough without adding the scrutiny that anyone connected to a Formula 1 driver inevitably receives on top of it. Besides, she has her own royal duties to attend to.

“Come on guys, that’s unfair,” Pierre says gently, noticing Charles’ discomfort. “If Charles says he has a girlfriend, we should believe him.”

“Thank yo—” Charles starts to say with relief. At least someone is on his side.

“Even if she is imaginary,” Pierre adds with a smirk.

Charles groans and puts his head in his hands as the laughter starts up again. He can’t really blame them for not believing him.

You are basically a fairytale princess — beautiful, elegant, and kind. Not to mention an actual member of the royal family. Her Serene Highness Princess Y/N Grace Stephanie Caroline of Monaco is the type of girl people write epic poems and songs about. Charles can hardly believe his luck that you had chosen him.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Daniel interrupts, taking pity on Charles. “Leave the poor man alone.”

“We’re just joking,” Max says defensively. “Charles knows we don’t mean anything by it.”

Charles gives Max a tight smile. “Sure.”

“Tell you what,” Daniel says, clapping Charles on the shoulder. “Bring your mystery girl to a race soon. We’ll all get to meet her and then you can finally prove these jokers wrong.”

Charles sighs. If only it were that simple. You have been tempted to attend races in the past but the scrutiny both of them would come under is just too much. You treasure the privacy your relationship allows. But maybe Daniel is right. Maybe it is time for you to finally meet his friends. After all, you are the love of his life. There is nothing to hide.

“Alright, deal,” Charles says finally. “I’ll ask her.”

The others exchange surprised looks, not expecting him to agree.

“Can’t wait to meet her,” Carlos says with a wink.

Charles rolls his eyes again but smiles. One way or another, he is going to prove to them that his amazing girlfriend isn’t just a figment of his imagination.

***

Charles is still thinking about you when he is suddenly accosted by Silvia, Ferrari’s Head of Communications, after practice.

“Charles! Just who I was looking for,” she says briskly. “I need to discuss something rather important with you.”

Charles suppresses a groan. Conversations with Silvia are never fun. “What’s up?” He asks with forced cheerfulness.

Silvia lowers her voice. “It’s about your relationship status. We feel it would be beneficial if you were seen dating someone … compatible.”

Charles’ eyebrows shoot up. “Compatible?”

“Yes. A model. Or perhaps an actress. Someone who would look good on your arm and boost your image.”

Charles folds his arms defensively. “What’s wrong with my girlfriend?”

Silvia waves a hand impatiently. “Yes yes, this alleged princess you keep mentioning. The problem, Charles, is that no one has seen her. No one knows if she is actually connected to you in any way. So, as far as we are concerned, for all intents and purposes, you are single.”

Charles frowns. This again. “I keep telling you that she’s really my girlfriend. Y/N is just very private.”

“Private women don’t date Formula 1 drivers,” Silvia says bluntly. “If she really was in a relationship with you, she would be here. But since that is clearly a figment of your imagination, we need to take steps.”

Charles feels his blood boil. How dare Silvia insult his relationship with Y/N? Question their connection?

“Here are profiles of suitable options,” Silvia continues, shoving a surprisingly heavy folder at him. Charles doesn’t open it.

“No.”

Silvia blinks. “No?”

“My relationship with Y/N is off limits,” Charles says firmly. “My personal life is exactly that — personal. Not to be exploited for PR.”

“Don’t be foolish,” Silvia snaps. “This is bigger than you. Your image reflects on Ferrari. We need to be able to control it.”

“No. What you need to do is back off,” Charles shoots back.

Silvia’s nostrils flare. Clearly she isn’t used to such defiance. “Charles, be reasonable—”

“I am being reasonable,” Charles interrupts. “I won’t pretend to date someone just because the team wants me to. I’m with Y/N. I don’t care if you believe me or not.”

Silvia shakes her head in disgust. “You’re making a big mistake. Don’t come crying to me when this blows up in your face.”

She storms off, heels clicking angrily against the floor.

Charles takes a deep breath, adrenaline pumping through his veins. He can’t remember the last time he stood up to Silvia like that. It felt good but also nerve-wracking. He knows she won’t let this go easily.

His phone buzzes and his heart leaps when he sees it’s a text from you.

Heard you had a rough day. Wish I could be there to make it better. I love you 💋

Charles smiles, the tension in his shoulders easing. You always knew just what to say and when to say it.

He quickly types back.

I wish you were here too. No matter what anyone says, they can’t change my feelings for you. I love you so much ❤️

He hits send, imagining your smile as you read his text. It doesn’t matter what his team, the media, or even his fellow drivers think. His relationship with you is real and authentic. Someday he’ll find a way for you to be by his side. But for now, your private moments together are enough.

Charles knows staying with you is the right decision, PR be damned. You are his soulmate — the fairytale princess he never expected to find but thanks God every single day that he did. Your love is worth fighting for. And someday, when the time is right, he’ll finally be able to show the world that what you have together is very real.

***

Charles groans as he notices multiple missed calls from his brothers. He has been avoiding their calls lately, knowing they would just tease him mercilessly about his girlfriend. But he knows he can’t dodge them forever.

Taking a deep breath, he calls Arthur back.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Prince Charles himself, taking time away from his busy schedule of dating princesses to spare a chat with us commoners,” Arthur says slyly upon answering.

Charles rolls his eyes. “Very funny. What do you want?”

“We just wanted to check in on our brother and see how life with Monegasque royalty is treating you,” Lorenzo chimes in. Charles realizes he must be on speaker.

“Oh yes, Princess Y/N,” Arthur says in an exaggerated swoony voice. “Our brother’s one true love since he was 15 years old and had that giant poster of her plastered on his wall.”

Charles feels his face flush. He knows exactly what poster Arthur is referencing — a stunning photo of you in a ballgown from a high society event years ago. Teenage Charles has ripped it out of a magazine and hung it up reverently in his room, gazing at it longingly.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he sputters. “I never had a poster.”

“Oh really?” Lorenzo laughs. “I seem to recall you cutting out every picture you could find of her and keeping a little scrapbook.”

Charles cringes internally. Okay, maybe his teenage obsession had been a bit … enthusiastic. But he can’t help that he had recognized you as his dream girl even then.

“Alright, so maybe I had a tiny crush on her,” Charles admits. “But it is not crazy that we ended up together.”

Arthur cackles. “You used to kiss her photos goodnight before going to bed! You were completely obsessed!”

“Remember how he tried to sneak into that royal gala at Salle des Etoiles to see her?” Lorenzo adds. “He was totally insane.”

Charles grimaces at the memory. Okay, not his finest moment.

“Face it Charles, you’ve been in love with the imaginary idea of Princess Y/N since you were in nappies,” Arthur teases. “No shame in admitting she wouldn't even give you the time of day now.”

Charles feels his frustration rising. Why does no one believe him?

“Because your so-called relationship makes no sense!” Lorenzo says, accurately reading his silence. “She’s a literal princess and you’re … you.”

“Gee, thanks,” Charles grumbles. He knows his brothers are just teasing but it still stings.

“Come on, just admit you made the whole thing up to get everyone off your back,” Arthur prods.

Charles sighs loudly. “For the millionth time, what we have is 100 percent real! Just because it seems unlikely doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. I don’t care if none of you believe me, I love her and she loves me.”

His brothers are silent for a moment.

“You alright there?” Arthur asks, his voice softening.

“Yes, I just wish everyone would stop questioning my relationship all the time,” Charles admits. “It hurts.”

“We’re only joking Charles, we don’t mean any harm,” Lorenzo says gently.

“I know,” Charles replies. “Doesn’t make it any easier to hear constantly though.”

“You’re right, we took the teasing too far,” Arthur says. “We’ll lay off from now on.”

Charles smiles slightly. “Thanks. And someday soon I will prove to you that it is real.”

His brothers are silent for a moment.

“Keep telling yourself that,” Arthur finally laughs.

Charles groans and runs a hand through his hair in frustration. Clearly nothing he says would convince his stubborn brothers that his relationship with you was real and not merely a childhood fantasy.

“Alright, well, I should get going,” Charles mumbles, eager to get off the phone.

“Chin up, we’re only teasing,” Lorenzo says lightly. “Have fun with your imaginary princess!”

Arthur and Lorenzo explode into more laughter as Charles quickly hangs up, his face burning. Someday, he will prove to them and everyone else that his amazing girlfriend isn’t just a figment of his imagination. No matter how long it takes.

***

Charles sinks into the familiar couch in his sports psychologist’s office, exhausted after a long day on the simulator and endless teasing from his team.

“Rough day out there?” Dr. Anderson asks kindly, noticing the strain on Charles’ face.

“That’s an understatement,” Charles sighs. “The car is just so slow this year. We keep trying new setups and tweaks but nothing helps. And the strategy is somehow even worse than the pace. It’s like the team wants me to fail.”

Dr. Anderson nods sympathetically. “That must be very frustrating. Tell me more about how it’s impacting you.”

Charles launches into a tirade about the endless issues with the car, the incompetent strategists, and the lack of proper communication from his engineers. Dr. Anderson listens patiently, letting him vent his pent-up anger and disappointment.

After a lengthy rant, Charles finally runs out of steam. “Anyway, it’s just been a terrible season,” he concludes glumly.

“I can certainly understand why you feel that way,” Dr. Anderson says. “It sounds like the team is letting you down in many ways.”

Charles nods, feeling some of the tension leave his shoulders after unloading. It helps to talk about it with someone whose job is not to judge.

“Is there anything else bothering you lately?” Dr. Anderson asks gently. “Any other sources of stress?”

Charles hesitates. He and Dr. Anderson have been working together for years, ever since he joined Ferrari. He knows he can open up to her.

“It’s just … well, besides the team stuff, no one believes me about my girlfriend,” he admits.

Dr. Anderson raises her eyebrows. “I see. Tell me more about that.”

Charles explains the endless teasing from his fellow drivers, the manipulation attempts by the PR team, and the doubtful reactions from his own family. How despite his best efforts, no one seems willing to accept that he is really dating Princess Y/N of Monaco.

“It’s so frustrating!" He bursts out at the end. “I don’t know what else I can do to convince them that we are actually together.”

Dr. Anderson purses her lips, jotting down notes. “I can understand why their doubt would upset you. It must be painful to have your relationship questioned.”

“Exactly!" Charles exclaims, throwing his hands up. “You get it. I knew I could talk to you.”

Dr. Anderson gives him a sympathetic smile.

Charles leaves the appointment feeling much better, confident that his psychologist believes him and is on his side.

As he is exiting, Charles notices Dr. Anderson’s notebook left open on her desk. Before he can stop himself, his eyes scan the page and focus on his name.

He feels his heart sink as he reads.

Charles Leclerc: deflecting from pain of difficult season by creating elaborate fantasy relationship. Fixation on celebrity crush indicates deeper self-esteem issues. Recommend to confront delusion directly in next session.

Charles reels, shock and anger swirling through him. Not even his own psychologist believes him! She thinks he is living in some weird fantasy.

Swallowing the bitter taste in his mouth, Charles straightens his shoulders and walks out. He has never felt more alone and frustrated in his conviction. But he refuses to give up. No matter what anyone says, his love for you is real. And one day, somehow, he will prove it to the world.

***

Charles is back at his family home in Monaco during a rare few days off. He is puttering around the kitchen while his mother cooks dinner.

“Oh, by the way, Y/N is coming over for dinner tonight,” Charles mentions casually. “I want you all to finally meet her.”

Pascale laughs lightly without looking up from the stove. “Of course, sweetie.”

Charles frowns. “I’m serious, maman. She’ll be here in an hour.”

“Mhmm, I’m sure she will,” Pascale replies indulgently. Charles huffs in annoyance.

Just then, his brothers come into the kitchen, freshly showered after playing football outside.

“Hey Charles, how’s life with your imaginary girlfriend?” Lorenzo immediately teases.

“She’s actually coming over for dinner tonight,” Charles says tersely.

Arthur lets out a loud laugh. “Yeah right! Good one.” He grabs a piece of bread from the counter, still chuckling.

Charles throws his hands up in exasperation. “Why does no one ever believe me about her?”

“Boys, that’s enough,” Pascale chides gently. “Let your brother dream.”

Charles opens his mouth to retort but just then, the doorbell rings. His eyes widen.

“I’ll get it!" He yells, dashing for the door. He takes a deep breath before swinging it open to reveal you standing there casually in jeans and a sweater, looking effortlessly gorgeous.

“Surprise!" You laugh, pulling him into a tight hug. Charles melts into your embrace, all his stress and frustration fading away.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you right now,” he murmurs into your hair.

You pull back to smile at him tenderly. “I’ve been looking forward to this for ages. I want your family to know how much I love you.”

Charles grins and takes your hand, leading your into the kitchen where his stunned family waits.

Pascale’s mouth is hanging open in shock. The piece of bread Arthur is holding falls to the floor with a dull thump.

“Y-your Serene Highness,” Pascale finally manages to stammer out, hastily wiping her hands on a towel. “What an honor, we weren’t expecting you ...”

She shoots an accusatory look at Charles, who throws up his hands defensively. “I told you she was coming!”

Pascale flushes. “Yes, well, I didn’t think … that is … we would have prepared ...”

You step forward gracefully, immediately putting Pascale at ease. “Please, just call me Y/N. I’ve been dying to meet Charles’ family.”

As you effortlessly charm his mother and brothers, Charles stands back watching with a satisfied smile. The shock and sheepishness on his family’s faces is vindicating after so many months of teasing and disbelief.

Charles has never been one to say “I told you so” but … I told you so.

***

The cheers of the crowd are deafening as the chequered flag waves for Charles at the Monaco Grand Prix. He can hardly believe it — finally, a win at his home race!

As he pulls into parc fermé and jumps out of the car, the emotions hit him. Pure elation at ending the long wait for a home victory. Relief at overcoming the team’s doubts. But most of all, excitement for what comes next.

The podium ceremony.

And with the Monegasque royal family presenting the trophies as usual, Charles knows exactly who will be handing him the winner’s trophy.

He can barely stand still through the anthems, eager for his moment with you. The weekend has been agony, so close to you yet having to pretend that there is nothing between the two of you.

But not anymore.

At last, the royal family walks onto the podium led by none other than Princess Y/N. Charles’ heart skips a beat at the sight of you gliding towards him in a figure-hugging red midi dress, sunlight glinting off your carefully styled hair. You somehow manage to become more and more beautiful every time he sees you.

Stopping in front of him, you give him a subtle wink before launching into the customary congratulatory speech. Charles nods along, not hearing a word as he zones out while admiring the stunning woman he gets to call his own.

At last, you turn to pick up the trophy. “It is my honor to present this trophy to our victor, who represents Monaco with pride in everything he does, Charles Leclerc,” you announce, holding it out to him with a brilliant smile.

In that moment, Charles throws all caution to the wind. As he accepts the trophy, he reaches out and pulls you into a passionate kiss.

The crowd below erupts in shocked cheers and screams. You melt into the kiss for a blissful moment before gently pulling back, your eyes sparkling. Charles grins at you breathlessly.

“Worth the wait?” He murmurs.

“Absolutely,” you whisper back, squeezing his hand. “I’m so proud of you, mon amour.”

Turning back to the roaring crowd, Charles wraps an arm around your waist and thrusts your linked hands into the air in triumph.

Looking out at the paddock, Charles sees the priceless dumbfounded looks on his fellow drivers’ faces. The Ferrari PR team looks ready to pass out in horror. Reporters are screaming questions and snapping photos frantically.

But Charles only has eyes for the radiant princess at his side. At long last, he has made your love public for the whole world to see.

Later, after celebrations around the circuit have started winding down in favor of moving to lounges and clubs for the night, Charles and you escape for a private moment together.

“That was quite the reveal,” you say with an amused quirk of your eyebrow.

Charles laughs. “I know, subtlety has never been my strong suit. I hope you don’t mind.”

You caress his face tenderly. “Of course not. I’m happy to finally be by your side. No more hiding.”

Charles kisses you deeply, all the love and longing of the past months pouring into it.

When you finally break apart, foreheads touching, he murmurs, “No more doubts. No more teasing. They all know now that you’re real and all mine.”

“Forever yours,” you whisper back. And seal it with another perfect kiss.

***

“I can’t believe it. I just … actually can’t believe it,” Max mutters, staring at the large screens around the paddock that are showing you and Charles gazing adoringly into each other’s eyes during the post-race interviews.

“Lord Perceval … dating an actual princess,” Carlos muses in disbelief.

“And not just any princess, his teenage celebrity crush!" Lando exclaims.

“I guess we owe him an apology,” Pierre says sheepishly.

“Big time,” Daniel agrees. “We gave him so much crap for making her up.”

“Speak of the devil,” Max mutters as Charles strides into the room, hand-in-hand with you.

An awkward silence descends on the group. Charles clears his throat, enjoying their obvious discomfort.

“I believe you all know my girlfriend, Her Serene Highness Y/N Grace Stephanie Caroline, Hereditary Princess of Monaco and Marquise of Baux. But you can just call her Your Serene Highness or Princess Y/N,” he says politely.

The guys mumble greetings, not quite meeting your eyes. You smile graciously. “You can just call me Y/N. Any friend of Charles is a friend of mine and there’s no need for titles around friends.”

Charles narrows his eyes. “Actually I don’t think that will be necessary. I believe they should maintain protocol and address you properly.”

You shoots him a look. “Darling, it’s fine, really. I want your friends to feel comfortable around me.”

But Charles crosses his arms, not budging. “No, it’s not fine. I must insist that they observe the formal mode of address for royalty.”

The drivers shift awkwardly again. You pull Charles aside with a soothing smile.

“What are you doing?” You whisper. “I’m trying to put them at ease.”

“I know but they deserve to squirm for a bit after how much they mocked us,” Charles whispers back petulantly.

You bite back a smile. “Don’t be silly. I know their teasing hurt but let’s move past it. Can you really blame them for thinking it sounds like a made up fairytale? Put yourself in their shoes.”

Charles sighs. “I guess you’re right ... I just want them to respect you.”

“They will, in time,” you say gently. “But forcing them to be overly formal won’t accomplish that. I’m still just me.”

Charles nods reluctantly. “Okay fine, we’ll do it your way.”

You turn back to the drivers who are trying to act natural and pretending that they didn’t just listen in on your conversation with a bright smile. “I’ve heard so much about all of you,” you say. “Charles speaks very highly of his fellow drivers.”

“We’re, uh, happy to finally meet you too,” Max manages to get out.

“Yeah, congrats mate,” Daniel offers weakly.

More awkward silence follows. Charles smirks, deciding to twist the knife a bit more.

“I know you all had your doubts about me landing a catch like Y/N,” he says casually. “But I can’t blame you. Even I can hardly believe someone so incredible would fall for me.”

He gazes at you adoringly as you blush prettily while the drivers fidget uneasily.

“Anyway, as you can now see, she’s real and we are happier than ever!" Charles concludes brightly.

“We’re really sorry for not believing you,” Lando bursts out sincerely. “And all the teasing.”

The others chime in with apologies and congratulations. Charles graciously accepts, reassuring them no hard feelings.

After you have throughly charmed them all and departed, the group surrounds Charles excitedly.

“Alright, you have to give us all the details,” Max demands. “How did you meet? How did you get her to go out with you? When did it get serious?”

Charles just laughs. “It’s a long story. But the important thing is that she’s the only one for me. Despite everyone doubting us, our love was real from the start.”

“Pretty epic to have a real life princess as your soulmate,” Pierre says dreamily.

“Just remember you knew me back when you all thought she was imaginary,” Charles jokes.

“We’ll never live it down,” Carlos groans goodnaturedly.

Charles smiles, feeling lighter and happier than he has in ages. The long struggle to prove himself has been worth it. Now he has everything — the win, the girl, and the utter shock and joy of proving to the world that even his wildest dreams can come true.

And this is only the beginning for him and his beloved princess.

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mrsfancyferrari · 2 months ago

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My Priority

Summary: MV1 + "You're my priority." 🍂🦃

Song: i'm yours by Isabel LaRosa

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

Word count: 6.8k

MASTERLIST - F1

The sun dipped low over the Monaco harbor, casting a golden hue over the sleek yachts and classic buildings. It was race weekend, and the atmosphere buzzed with excitement.

Fans adorned in vibrant team colors filled the streets, while the pit lanes prepared for the moment that would thrill millions around the globe.

Among the horde of dedicated supporters and high-profile personalities were three friends, caught in a whirlwind of competition and camaraderie: Max, Charles and Lando.

Today, he stood in the crowd, his eyes fixed on you—a talented influencer and recently appointed ambassador for the racing team.

With your effortless smile and magnetic personality, you effortlessly drew a gathering of admirers around you, signing autographs and taking cheerful selfies, your laughter ringing like music above the cacophony.

Charles and Lando, seated comfortably on a nearby bench, exchanged knowing glances as they watched Max, who seemed lost in a dreamy haze.

“Look at him,” Lando snickered, leaning back on his hands. “I swear he’s drooling.”

“Max, the biggest simp in Monaco,” Charles teased, suppressing a laugh. “He’s got those hearts in his eyes again.”

Max was clearly oblivious, completely entranced by your graceful presence. He didn’t just admire you; it was as though he had built a world around the very idea of you.

The way you spoke with your fans, how you listened to each story and responded with genuine interest—it captivated him.

“Should we go over and rescue him?” Lando suggested, feigning concern while he grinned. “Or do we let him bask in his hopeless dreams for a little longer?”

“He’ll be fine,” Charles replied, shaking his head. “But maybe we should give him a little push. He wouldn’t take any of this as serious if it were us in front of that crowd.”

“I can’t believe he’s got it this bad,” Lando said, his tone playful, “What spice do you think he would add to the word ‘simp’ if it was his turn to describe it? Charismatic? Earned? I can practically hear his monologue right now.”

Charles laughed, then leaned forward, narrowing his eyes as he studied Max. “But seriously, look at him. It’s like watching a puppy. You know he wouldn’t even know what to say to her.”

While they teased Max, he remained entranced. Conscious of his friends’ snickering, he reluctantly stole a glance at them and noticed their laughter.

Realizing what they were up to, he straightened, a blush creeping up his neck.

“Guys! Quit it!” he called out, his voice laced with embarrassment. “I’m just watching!”

“Yeah, watching her while looking like you’re in a personal rom-com,” Lando snickered. “How about a quick flirt, huh? We can’t let those hours of sim racing go to waste, Max!”

“Or we could help you,” Charles added, the corners of his mouth curling into a teasing grin. “I could distract her while you swoop in for a heroic rescue.”

Max rolled his eyes, attempting to shake off their banter, yet a smile tugged at his lips, unable to fully resist the comedic timing of his over-the-top friends.

“You two are ridiculous, you know that? I’d rather drown than ask either one of you for ‘help’.”

“Oh please, it wouldn’t even be asking!” Lando exchanged a knowing grin with Charles. “You’d be thanking us with how epic this moment will be.”

Just as their banter continued, you finished with the last group of fans, standing tall under the sun, blissfully unaware of the trio observing you.

You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear and took out your phone, scrolling through your messages.

“Look! She’s free! Go now!” Lando exclaimed, shoving Max lightly.

“What? No! I can't!” Max stuttered, standing rigid, his earlier confidence evaporating.

Charles leaned closer, unfazed by Max’s protests. “You brought this on yourself. You can’t let the opportunity pass you by. Just be yourself.”

“Be myself?” Max echoed incredulously. “What does that even mean? Look at her! She’s amazing. I’m just… me.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Charles replied. “She doesn't want another trophy; she wants someone real. If you don’t go talk to her, you’ll never know.”

With a deep breath, Max took a step back, contemplating the ocean of thoughts that whirled within him. “What if I mess up? Or worse, what if she thinks I’m just a weird guy?”

“Mate! You're the Max Verstappen,” Lando shrugged. “I don't think she'll care.” He winked. “Now go. You could get all the cool points.”

With a silent nod and a rush of adrenaline, Max finally took a step forward. As he approached you, he tried to focus on the words swirling in his mind.

Closer and closer, he felt his heart race—this was it.

You looked up just as he reached you, and your eyes met his. His breath caught, a mix of excitement and nervousness weaving together. “Hey…,” he managed to say, suddenly feeling small in this vast world of possibility.

You smiled brightly, that same warmth radiating from you that had drawn him here. “Hi there! You’re a fan of the team, right?”

Max nodded, wrestling with the best response while standing here, finally face to face with the person he admired yet knew so little about. “Yeah, I mean, um, I—I am.” He swallowed hard. “I saw you with your fans over there, and, um, you were amazing.”

A soft chuckle escaped you. “Thank you! I love connecting with them. It’s the least I can do. They make our sport so vibrant and exciting.”

“I can see that,” Max said, feeling the confidence slowly emerging. “Just like you’re making this whole weekend brighter.”

The two of you shared a laugh that alleviated the tension, and with each word, the distance between you lessened. The shimmer of stars began to paint the sky as the sun set, casting a magical glow over the race circuit, where a new chapter began to unfold.

Meanwhile, Charles and Lando watched from a distance, an approving grin plastered on their faces. “Maybe our Max isn’t such a hopeless case after all,” Lando mused, nudging Charles.

“Looks like our little simp might just prove us all wrong,” Charles replied, folding his arms in satisfaction as they witnessed the unfolding moment between you and Max, already knowing it was destined to be a story worth telling.

You’ve always found comfort in the chaos of racing. The revving engines, the smell of burnt rubber, and the exhilaration hanging in the air—every race was a whirlwind of excitement.

As a social media influencer, you had the chance to immerse yourself in this electrifying world, and attending each Grand Prix was like living in a breathtaking dream.

But it wasn't just the races that thrilled you; it was the company you kept, particularly Max.

He was a whirlwind on the track, deftly maneuvering through the chaos of his competitors. Off the track, however, he was refreshingly down-to-earth.

From the moment you met, a strong bond formed—a friendship that quickly evolved into the kind of connection that made fans and onlookers raise their eyebrows with curiosity.

Your camaraderie was vibrant and infectious, turning the drivers’ lounge into your personal arena of chaos where everyone else was a spectator.

“Hey, Max!” you exclaimed, waving as he walked through the driver’s lounge after a particularly grueling race in Miami. A smirk twitched at the corner of his mouth.

“Y/N! Ready for some ‘maxplaining’?” he teased, giving you a playful nudge.

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “You mean me doing the yapping, Maxplaining is your job.”

“Touché,” he grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “But let’s compare notes on what went wrong today. I have a few things to say.”

You led him to a quieter corner, the hum of the lounge fading as the two of you settled into a rhythm. You were comfortable with each other, like family.

“Okay, admit it,” you began, leaning in conspiratorially. “You totally could have cut that last corner better. What were you thinking?”

Max feigned a horrified gasp. “What do you mean? I was just giving the crowds a show! It’s about the drama, Y/N!”

“Drama?” you chuckled. “More like a slow dance with the wall! Lando warned you, didn’t he?”

Max smirked, clearly enjoying the banter. “Lando is always going on about it. It’s like he thinks he can drive better just because he’s got a fancy new helmet.”

At that, you burst out laughing, imagining Lando prancing around, confidently boasting about helmet aerodynamics while utterly ignoring the zen of driving.

Lando had long since accepted his role in your friendship as the comedic relief, always reminding you both to loosen up amidst the pressure.

As the races sped by from more distant tracks like COTA to the legendary Brazil Grand Prix, your friendship deepened wonderfully, forming an unbreakable bond.

Instagram stories filled with laughter and spontaneous videos of Max’s antics, unfiltered and untamed, all while being followed by millions.

It wasn’t merely a friendship; it was an adventure, one you cherished.

“Oh, I’m definitely maxplaining this one for the Gram,” you declared one day, holding up your phone as Max attempted to juggle a football while simultaneously answering questions from fans.

“Y/N, focus! We need to practice our pre-race rituals, not showcase my juggling skills,” Max replied, though he couldn’t resist the allure of the camera, striking a mock-serious pose.

“Fine, focus mode activated! But I’ll always film your epic fails,” you bantered, capturing him dramatically failing to keep the football afloat.

The moments you shared were infused with invaluable lessons and effortless joy. It was on a chill evening following a hot race that things began to shift for you both.

“Do you ever think about what life would be like if you weren’t racing? Like, normal stuff?” you asked, settling comfortably in a lounge chair, your gaze fixed on the sunset outside the paddock.

Max paused, his expression turning thoughtful. “Sometimes. It’s hard, though. Racing is everything I know—you lose track of reality. But I guess if I weren’t here...” he trailed off, his brow furrowing, “I’d probably be lost.”

“I get that,” you affirmed. “But you’re not just a racer, Max. You’re an inspiration to so many. It’s more than just speed; it’s the grit and passion the fans see.”

A shy smile crept across his face. “And you, Y/N, you’re more than just this influencer. You humanize the sport. You put a face to racing that isn’t just helmets and stats.”

Caught off guard by his sincerity, you felt a flutter in your chest. “Thanks, Max. That means a lot,” you replied, warmth spreading through you.

There was a beat of silence before he continued, “Have you ever thought about how this could go beyond racing?”

Your heart raced. “What do you mean?”

"Nothing," he muttered shyly, his ears went bright red and excused himself to finish his debriefing. . . .

The evening sun cast a warm glow over the park as Max leaned against a nearby wall, scrolling through his phone.

He had been enjoying his time with you, your banter and laughter filling the air, a comfortable rhythm you had established over the weeks.

Yet, beneath the surface of your friendship, Max felt a flicker of something deeper, a burgeoning affection he hadn’t quite dared to voice.

Suddenly, he noticed a figure approaching you—a tall, dark-haired guy who carried himself with an ease that annoyed Max for reasons he couldn’t fully articulate.

As the guy drew closer, he greeted you with a wide smile, and you responded with a tension in your shoulders that sent alarm bells ringing in Max’s head.

"Hey, Y/N!" the guy said, his voice overly cheerful as if he were trying to create an upbeat atmosphere. "Long time no see! How have you been?"

“Uh, hi, Ben,” you replied, your voice lacking its usual vibrancy. “I’ve been… good.” You shifted your weight uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact while fiddling with the strap of your bag.

Max couldn’t hear the rest of your conversation, but he could see your discomfort rise like a tide. Ben leaned in closer, gesturing animatedly with his hands, and Max’s heart raced.

It was clear you wanted to retreat, but Ben seemed oblivious to your disinterest.

Max took a step off the wall, deciding he didn't like the way Ben was invading your personal space. He approached them, a casual yet protective demeanor in his stride.

“Hey, babe! There you are!” he had called out, forcing the brightness into his tone, hoping to drown out the awkwardness hanging in the air.

Your relief was evident as you turned to him with that light that made everything feel right.

“Oh! Maxy, hey!” you exclaimed, that simple greeting sending a jolt of happiness through him.

He couldn’t help but grin at the way your eyes lit up when you saw him, a stark contrast to the cloud that overhung your expression when you were with Ben.

“Yeah, I just… um, was catching up with Ben here,” you said, the slight falter in your voice not going unnoticed by Max.

He felt a flicker of protectiveness flare up inside him, and he stepped closer, narrowing the space between you and Ben.

“Ben!” Max called, feigning cheerfulness as he directed his attention to the other guy, whose smile seemed to dim the moment he realized Max had entered the scene. “You’re still talking about high school? What a wild ride that was, right?”

Ben chuckled lightly, clearly irritated with Max's interruption but not wanting to show it. “Yeah, we were just reminiscing about old times,” he replied, shooting you a glance. “Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

“Right,” you muttered, your gaze darting away, unable to meet either of their eyes.

Max could see you were struggling, trapped in some unspoken tension, but he didn’t want to let you stay there any longer.

“Well, we’ve got our own plans,” Max interjected smoothly, a hint of challenge in his voice as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder gently.

“So, are you ready to grab that smoothie we talked about? The mango one?” He leaned in closer, lowering his voice like a conspirator sharing a secret, “I hear it’s worth it.”

You caught his eyes, and in that moment, your gratitude was palpable.

“Yes! I could really go for a mango smoothie right now,” you said, the tension easing from your face as you shifted your weight towards Max, your unexpected ally in this moment.

“Smoothies are great for tackling the past,” Max added with an exaggerated grin at Ben, who now looked like a puppet with its strings cut.

Max felt a thrill of satisfaction watching the other man’s expression sour, knowing you were finally free to escape this uncomfortable confrontation.

“Good to see you, Y/N,” Ben forced through gritted teeth, his eyes boring into Max as if trying to figure him out.

“Yeah, you too,” you replied, the practiced politeness in your tone striking a sharp contrast to the warmth you’d shown Max.

Together, you turned away from Ben, the café’s atmosphere lightening as you stepped outside into the warm sun.

Once you reached the sidewalk, your sigh of relief was almost comical. “Thank you for that, Max. I didn’t know how to get away.”

“Anytime,” he said, trying to keep his voice casual while his heart raced. “Ben can be a little… intense, can’t he?”

You laughed, the sound genuine and bright. “Intense is one way to put it. He has a way of making things complicated.”

“He’s... well, we have some history that’s not exactly fun,” you admitted, your expression somber as you waited for your smoothies.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” Max asked gently, his heart thumping in his chest.

He didn’t want to push you, but he was curious and concerned at the same time.

You hesitated for a moment, your fingers tracing the rim of your phone. “It was just a complicated relationship. One of those where things started out great, but eventually spiraled into something toxic. It was… hard to let go.”

Max’s expression softened. “I understand. You don’t have to share everything if you’re not comfortable, though. I just want you to know I’m here for you, always.”

You smiled, a genuine light coming back to your eyes. “I appreciate that, Max. I think after all this time, I’ve finally learned what I want in my life. You just being here means a lot.”

“That’s what friends are for, right? And I wouldn’t want anyone to make you feel uncomfortable. You deserve better than that,” Max said, handing you the smoothie.

“Thanks, Max. You really are a great friend.” As you two walked away from the stand, you stole a glance at him, your eyes shining. “You know, I’m really glad to have you in my life.”

Max smiled. He just hoped he was something more to you. . . . .

It was a sunny Thursday afternoon when your phone buzzed unexpectedly. The screen lit up, revealing an incoming call from a number you recognized as belonging to Red Bull Racing's media team.

Your heart raced; you just had been following F1 closely, and your recent friendship with Max Verstappen had garnered its fair share of attention on social media.

You answered the call, curiosity piqued.

“Hey! Is this Y/N?” a cheerful voice greeted on the other end.

“Yes, it is!” you replied, trying to sound composed. “Who am I speaking with?”

“This is Sarah from Red Bull's media team. We’ve been monitoring the amazing fan reactions to the content featuring you and Max. We’d love to capitalize on that momentum,” she explained.

"We’d like to invite you to join Max for a fun game, which we plan to share on our social media. Are you up for it?"

You couldn’t believe it. “Absolutely,”

“Great! We’ll set it up for tomorrow afternoon. You'll both be given ten questions. Some will be about F1, and others will be random. Sound good?”

“Sounds fantastic,” you hung up, excitement bubbling inside.

Who wouldn't want to play a game with one of F1's biggest stars?

The next day, you arrived at the Red Bull Racing headquarters, a breathtaking fusion of sleek modern design and rich motorsport culture.

The moment you stepped inside, you were greeted with genuine smiles from the team members bustling around, their energy infectious, the air thick with the anticipation that always brewed before a race.

ou could hear the chatter about tire compounds and race strategies, a symphony of excitement that made your heart race.

After a quick cup of coffee—rich and strong enough to zap you awake—you engaged in light banter with a few of the engineers, teasing them about the latest car performance.

Just as you were beginning to feel at home, Olivia, the content manager, came over and ushered me into a bright studio space designed explicitly for video content.

“Ready for some fun today?” she asked, a playful glint in her eyes.

“I’m always ready for fun, especially with Max,” you replied with a grin.

As you entered the studio, you spotted Max Verstappen lounging against a table, his trademark red and blue cap perched backward on his head.

He was scrolling through his phone, but he looked up as you walked in, his face lighting up with a warm grin.

“Hey! Finally, the famous Y/N has arrived!” he exclaimed, his tone playful and welcoming.

You chuckled, rolling your eyes. “Don’t exaggerate, Max. I’m just the guy who occasionally shows up in your videos.”

“Nah, you’re a big deal now! Everyone loves the banter we have,” he insisted, pushing himself off the table and giving you a light punch on the shoulder. “Ready to get this started?”

“Absolutely. Let’s see who knows the other better!” you replied, feeling playful and competitive.

Sarah stepped in, ready to explain the rules. “Alright, everyone! Here’s how it will work. You’ll each take turns asking questions, alternating between F1 trivia and personal ones. Let’s find out just how well you know each other!”

“Sounds good,” Max said, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Ladies first.”

“Alright, Max,” you said, preparing to razz him with your first question. “What’s my favorite food?”

He crossed his arms, a teasing glint in his eyes. “That’s easy—pasta! But the way you always go on about it makes it seem like you think you’re Italian.”

You burst out laughing, caught off guard by his accuracy. “Damn! You’ve been paying attention,” you replied with mock disbelief. “But just wait till you get yours.”

“Bring it on!” He replied, leaning in with an eager grin.

You took a deep breath and decided to up the ante. “Okay, here’s an F1 trivia question. What year did Red Bull Racing first win the Constructors’ Championship?”

Without missing a beat, he said, “2010,” You raised an eyebrow. “Impressive!”

Then it was Max’s turn. He leaned closer, an intensity in his gaze. “What’s the last concert you went to?”

You paused for a moment, recalling the memory. “It was a Coldplay concert last year. They were amazing!”

The questions flowed naturally, and laughter filled the room as the banter turned to playful teasing. Each time he got an answer right, there was a spark—a moment of connection that seemed to linger in the air a second too long.

You caught him glancing at you from the corner of his eye, his expression both challenging and curious.

“Okay, okay, I have one for you,” he said, leaning forward conspiratorially, as if ready to break some sacred bond. “What do I like to do on my days off?”

You squinted, trying to remember the few times the team had shared off days together. “Uh, you like spending time with your cats, and you also love to do sim racing?”

He laughed softly, shaking his head. “Close! I do love spending time with sim racing, but I also spend too much time playing FIFA. You should’ve known that!”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Alright, your turn! What’s my guilty pleasure?”

Max smirked, a glint of mischief swirling in his gaze. “You’re definitely a sucker for reality TV. Pretty sure I’ve caught you watching Love Island USA a couple of times.”

“Guilty as charged!” you admitted, laughing along with him. “But I can defend my choices if you want—ahem, it’s simple entertainment!”

His lighthearted ribbing felt warm and right, and the camaraderie between the two of you had grown into a familiar rapport almost effortlessly.

As the Q&A continued, you both slowly drifted into laughter punctuated by thoughtful pauses where a silence spoke volumes.

You began to wonder if he felt the same magnetic pull you were experiencing. In those fleeting glances, you saw a flash of something—curiosity, longing—as if both of you were teetering on the edge of discovery.

Finally, as the game progressed toward the final question, Sarah interrupted with an excited sway. “Alright, I think we’re done for now! This video is definitely going to be a hit.”

You glanced at Max, who still wore that boyish grin—his energy infectious as he reveled in the laughter circulating around the room.

But deeper than that, you felt a weight pressing on your heart, urging you to say something more.

“Hey, Max, can I ask you something?” you called out, your voice steady despite the rush of emotions threatening to spill over.

“Sure, what’s on your mind?” He looked at you with genuine curiosity, and for a brief moment, it felt as though you were in a bubble, shut away from everyone else.

“About our chemistry—does it mean anything to you?” The question hung in the air like a transmitted spark, and you could see his expression turn serious, the lightness shifting into something deeper.

He took a moment, weighing your words. “Ever since we started being friends, it’s been… different. Fun, but something more,” he admitted, the sincerity in his voice resonating through you.

Your heart soared. Max was just as captivated by your chemistry as you were. It was as if some invisible thread had tethered you both, pulling you closer together.

With a casual flip of his cap back to forward, Max held your gaze. The laughter faded, and there you stood, surrounded by the energy of the Red Bull Racing headquarters, but your world had narrowed down to this single moment.

You felt the magnetic connection evolve into something tangible, something real that could break the barriers between colleagues and something much deeper—a thrilling journey ahead sparked by an unexpected electric tension. . . .

You glided down the hallway, adrenaline and excitement coursing through your veins. This was no ordinary night; in an unexpected twist, Max had chosen you to accompany him to an exclusive F1 gala.

You had always seen him as more than just a friend, but the tension between you had never been openly addressed—until now.

The door to the living room gave way, revealing Max perched comfortably on the sofa, his classic black tuxedo accentuating the chiselled lines of his physique. His tousled dark hair was slicked back, emphasizing the sharp angles of his jaw.

You couldn’t help but notice how handsome he looked. But when he turned to face you, his expression changed from admiration to sheer shock.

“How do I look?” you asked playfully, knowing full well that the dress you wore clung to your curves in just the right way.

Lifting the last of your earrings into place, you caught his gaze, lingering far too long on your neckline.

Max’s mouth fell slightly open, and he stammered, “I-uh- You look— You look great.”

His eyes seemed glued to your chest, and you smirked at him, shaking your head. “Yeah, okay, let’s keep our thoughts innocent,” you teased, a playful glint in your eye.

He blinked rapidly, as if waking from a trance, and his cheeks tinged with a light shade of crimson. “Right. Innocent. Of course.” His voice dropped an octave, trying to regain composure.

“You look—really beautiful. I mean, not that you don’t always…”

You laughed softly, enjoying the fluster you’d caused in the usually confident driver. “Thanks, Max. You clean up pretty well yourself.”

He stood up, adjusting the lapels of his tux and shooting you a half-welcoming smile. “Ready to go? I think I’m about to break a world record for the longest time spent staring without saying anything coherent.”

“Let’s get out of here before you break any more records,” you replied, grabbing your clutch and heading toward the door.

The gala was being held at a splendid venue in Monaco, the ambiance glowing with extravagance. The soft sounds of classical music floated through the air as you and Max made your way inside, adorned in gold and silver decorations.

It felt surreal, the elegance around you contrasting sharply with the adrenaline-fueled world of racing that was Max’s daily routine.

As you entered, the murmurs of guests turned into a wave of excitement. “Max! Over here!” A handful of fans spotted him, rushing forward with cameras and excited whispers.

You watched as he interacted with them effortlessly, signing autographs and posing for pictures. A wave of pride washed over you; he was not just a friend but a superstar—one of the best drivers in the world.

After several moments of mingling with his fans, he returned to your side, breathless from the attention.

“I’m glad you’re here with me,” he said, his voice now lowered to an almost intimate whisper. “It’s... a lot sometimes.”

You offered him a warm smile, knowing how taxing the spotlight could be. “It’s nice to see you outside of the track. You can actually relax for once.”

With that notion in mind, he later led you to the bar, where you both ordered drinks—Max preferring a classic whiskey while you chose a sparkling signature cocktail adorned with fresh fruit.

As you sipped your second drink, you turned to him. “So, any secret dreams for the season?”

Max leaned back against the bar, an amused smile stretching across his face. “Well, aside from winning, I might want to one-up my last season’s record. Or maybe…”

He paused dramatically, “I was hoping for a podium finish on our next outing in Italy. It’s always been a special place for me.”

“Why is that? The food, the scenery?” you queried, genuinely curious.

“It’s got the perfect blend of everything. The passion, the fans... And the tire placements at Monza are—well, they’re quite thrilling,” he explained, his enthusiasm evident.

You listened, fascinated by his love for the sport and the intricacies he shared. “I can see why you love it so much,” you replied, “It’s like an art form...”

“Exactly!” His eyes sparked with enthusiasm. “And speaking of art, I could hardly choose an artwork more stunning than you tonight.”

Feeling the heat rise to your cheeks, you chuckled softly. “Smooth, Max. Just remember, I’m not a trophy to be won.”

“More like a prize, then,” he shot back, his grinning eyes glinting in the light.

After what felt like a whirl of conversations and laughter, you noticed the transition in the evening. As Max caught your gaze, he spoke softly, “Say, would you like to dance?”

You hesitated for a moment, caught off-guard. “Dance? I’m not even sure I know how to—”

“You know how to sway, don’t you?” he teased, offering his hand. “Just follow my lead.”

The two of you shifted onto the dance floor, surrounded by elegantly dressed couples twirling and gliding with grace. The music faded into an intoxicating sound that seemed to pull you both closer together.

His hand found the small of your back, guiding you smoothly.

“What do you think?” he whispered in your ear as you found your rhythm. “Not so bad, is it?”

“Not bad at all,” you replied, heart racing as you shared his space. The warmth from his body enveloped you, grounding you.

Eventually, the song slowed, and as you swayed in closer, you could feel the heat radiating between you. It was a different rhythm now, one that echoed the unspoken tension of your friendship.

You felt his breath hitch as he leaned closer, inhaling softly.

“Can I tell you something?” he asked, his voice earnest.

“Yeah?” You searched his face, and the way his eyes flickered with vulnerability sent a shiver down your spine.

“I’m glad I chose you to come with me tonight,” he admitted, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re not just a date; you’re... you’re everything.”

You felt your heart skip a beat. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that I care about you. More than just a friend,” he confessed, the courage of his words electrifying.

And there it was, laid bare before you in the most romantic of settings.

“Max, I feel the same.”

His gaze held yours, vulnerability mixing with unfettered joy. The music around you faded, but the world felt suspended in time, just the two of you wrapped in honesty.

He took a breath, then leaned down, brushing his lips softly against yours, tentative at first. You melted into the kiss, feeling like the most cherished person in the room.

The night had transformed into something truly unforgettable, and you knew that this moment was the beginning of something beautiful.

You wake up to the insistent buzzing of your phone beside you on the bedside table. Light streams through the curtains, illuminating the chaos of your living room, remnants from the night before—glasses, laughter, and the unmistakable scent of champagne.

You try to ignore the phone, but the buzzing doesn’t stop, and neither does the nauseating flutter of anxiety in your stomach.

“Who is it?” you murmur to yourself, glancing at the screen. Max’s name flashes back at you, and your heart races. Memories come flooding back. The party. The laughter.

His lips brushing against yours with a tenderness that made everything else in the room melt away. The kiss—a moment suspended in time, etched forever into your mind.

But then everything changed. The kiss had been captured, and going viral made it feel all too public. You had fallen for him—hard—but now the weight of that kiss felt like a betrayal.

You were terrified it would affect his career, and yet, what happened was beautiful. You cannot reconcile the two.

“God, what have I done?” You bury your face in your hands as shame washes over you. The thought of what the public would say twists like a knife in your heart.

You pick up your phone and stare at it, the guilt tightening its grip on your throat. You tell yourself you should call Max, but what would you even say?

You can’t shake the feeling that you’ve ruined everything. You let it ring through to voicemail, your thumb hovering over the disconnect button.

“Hey, it’s Max Verstappen. I’m probably busy right now, but please leave a message.” His cheerful voice rings out, and you hear the tremor of hope in it.

You feel like you might cry, but you can’t give in. Not now. You drop the phone back onto the table, letting out a shaky breath.

A few hours later, you finally get out of bed and make yourself a cup of coffee, hoping the caffeine will steady your nerves. On impulse, you switch on your laptop.

The first thing you see is a headline blaring from every angle: Max and Y/N: The Viral Kiss That Broke the Internet. Your heart sinks further. This was surreal and terrifying all at once.

“Incredible,” you mutter under your breath, rolling your eyes. You want to escape from it all. In that moment, the coffee tastes bitter.

Later that afternoon, you’re stirring the milk when your phone lights up again. It’s Max. You feel a rush of warmth mixed with dread.

You hesitate, fingers trembling as you stare at his name. Finally, you press the button, willing yourself to answer.

“Hello?” his voice is light, almost cheerful, and you can hear how easy it is for him to smile despite the chaos surrounding both of you.

“Max,” you manage, voice shaky. “We need to talk.”

There’s a moment of silence on the other end. “Are you okay?” His concern is palpable. “What’s wrong?”

You take a deep breath. “About last night… the kiss… the cameras… I can't help but feel like I’ve ruined your career somehow. We’re all over the media, Max! What if it affects your races? Your reputation?”

“Whoa, whoa,” he interjects, clearly caught off guard. “You didn’t ruin anything. Trust me. In fact, I’m glad it happened. I wanted people to know how I feel.”

“How can you be so relaxed about this?” you manage, frustration creeping in. “You’re an F1 driver. Your image matters.”

“Yeah, but my heart matters more,” he replies, and there's an unmistakable intensity in his tone. “You matter more.”

“Max, what do you mean?” Your heart skips a beat. Those words run like electricity through you.

“You and me… last night was amazing—life-changing, actually. I’ve been wanting to be with you for a long time, and it finally happened.” He chuckles softly, the sound bringing a small smile to your lips.

“All the media chatter is just noise. I'm happy people see how I feel about you.”

“You don’t understand. They’ll twist it. They’ll make it sound like you’re just some guy who kisses his fans! This isn’t a good look!”

“Listen,” he says firmly. “If they want to spin it that way, let them. But I know the truth, and so do you. I didn’t kiss a fan; I kissed the person I care about the most. That’s you, and nothing anyone says will change that.”

You feel like you could cry. Max’s words are a balm for your frayed nerves. But still, the doubt claws at you. “What if it backfires? What if it affects your team’s performance?”

“It won’t,” he insists, voice lighter now. “I thrive on pressure. Trust me; if I can drive a Formula 1 car at 200 miles an hour, I can manage whatever they throw at me. More importantly, it’s you I want in my life. Can you at least think about that?”

The sincerity in his voice is undeniable. You take a moment, letting it seep in. “I just… I don’t want to be the reason you face backlash.”

“Only if you don’t call back,” he says, teasing you gently. “But seriously, let’s enjoy this. Go out with me, just once, without worrying about the cameras.”

“I don’t even know how the press will react,” you sigh.

“Then surprise them. Pick a restaurant, and I’ll be there.”

You can feel your heart racing as you mull it over, but deep down, something beautiful stirs—a possibility, a spark. You could face the chaos together.

Finally, you admit, “Okay, then. Tomorrow, let’s go to that Italian place we love. But just a warning: I’m not putting on a show for anyone.”

“Perfect. Just you, me, and pasta,” he chuckles, and you can’t help but laugh, feeling the tension ease a little.

As you hang up, you stare out the window, meeting your own gaze in the reflection.

The episode before you has unsettled you, but perhaps, just perhaps, you and Max are writing the first chapter of something profound—something that even the world beyond the two of you could never fully understand.

Your heart swells with anticipation for what lies ahead. . . .

The soft glow of the late afternoon sun filtered through the curtains of your room, casting playful patterns on the floor as you stared at your reflection in the mirror. Your heart raced with excitement and nerves as you brushed the last strokes of mascara on your lashes.

You wanted to look your best, not just for yourself, but for Max. After the viral moment that had your names splashed across every social media feed, meeting up felt like stepping into a whirlwind you couldn’t escape, nor did you want to.

“You look amazing!” your best friend Mia said, planting herself on your bed, her phone in hand. “That dress is perfect for you!”

You twirled in front of the mirror, the fabric swirling around your legs. “Do you think he’ll even notice?” you laughed nervously, trying to inject levity into the situation.

“Are you kidding? Max will definitely notice. He’s been on cloud nine since that kiss!” Mia replied, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I mean, who wouldn’t be a little distracted by the thought of a girl like you?”

Just then, the sound of your phone buzzing stole your attention. You rushed over, your heart leaping when you saw Max’s name.

“Hey!” you said, trying to contain your excitement.

“Hey!” he replied, his voice warm and a little nervous. “I’m outside. Ready to go?”

“Yeah, just give me a second!” you hurried to grab your jacket and purse, glancing at Mia over your shoulder. She gave you a thumbs-up and a grin before you dashed down the stairs and out the door.

Max stood leaning against his car, looking effortlessly handsome in a fitted navy shirt and jeans that accentuated his athletic figure. His hair was slightly tousled, the sun catching the glint in his blue eyes as he turned to you.

“Wow,” he said, his smile widening. “You look incredible.”

“Thanks! You don’t look too bad yourself,” you replied, trying to act cool while your cheeks heated up.

“Ready for our big adventure?” he asked, opening the car door for you.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you replied with a laugh, settling into the passenger seat.

Max drove in a comfortable silence for a while, the radio playing softly in the background as you occasionally glanced at one another, the tension palpable yet exciting. Eventually, you broke the silence.

“So, about that kiss…” you began, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your dress.

Max chuckled, a little shyly, “You mean the one that broke the internet?”

“Yeah, that one! Do you think… I mean, how do you feel about it?” you asked, your heart pounding in your chest.

He glanced at you, his expression serious yet playful. “Honestly? I’m still pinching myself. I didn’t expect to get carried away like that, but when I saw you, it was like everything else faded away.”

“Same here,” you admitted, your gaze locked onto his profile, trying to decipher his thoughts. “But now the whole world knows, and that’s a little overwhelming.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “I get that. I wasn’t ready for the headlines either. But I kind of love that we’re doing this together, even if people are watching.”

“Are you sure you’re okay with the attention?” you asked, concern flickering across your features. “I mean, we didn’t even talk about what this means.”

Max reached over and placed his hand on yours, sending a warm jolt through your arm. “I’m okay with it because it’s you. I like you, and I want to see where this can go, with all the chaos around us.”

You smiled, your heart swelling at his words. “You really mean that?”

“Absolutely,” he said with a sincerity that made your breath catch. “So, how about we forget about the cameras and just enjoy our time together?”

Nodding eagerly, you felt a surge of relief wash over you. “I’d like that.”

You spent the afternoon at a quaint café downtown, the hum of conversation and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee setting a cozy atmosphere. You shared stories over pastries, laughter ringing between you both as you learned more about one another.

“Okay, your turn,” you said after Max revealed his embarrassing childhood nickname. “What’s your biggest fear?”

Max took a moment to think, a slight furrow spreading across his brow. “Honestly? Losing the people I care about. Being a driver means that you travel a lot which means you lose friends quickly.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, feeling a rush of empathy.

“It’s alright,” he said quickly, lifting his gaze to meet yours. “It taught me to value the people in my life even more. I guess that’s why I feel so lucky to have met you.”

Your heart fluttered as he leaned in slightly, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. “Also, I’m terrified of clowns.”

You burst into laughter, the tension from earlier melting away. “Oh come on! You can’t be serious.”

“I am! They’re just so unpredictable,” he insisted, his expression mock-stern. “One minute they’re juggling, and the next, they’re doing who knows what.”

You continued to share stories and tease each other, the world beyond the restaurant fading away. It wasn’t until you stepped out into the warm evening that you realized just how much you enjoyed his company.

“Wanna take a walk?” Max suggested, his hand naturally finding yours.

“I’d love to,” you replied, intertwining your fingers with his while you strolled through the twinkling lights of the downtown streets.

As you walked, the conversation flowed easily, your laughter mingling with the warm evening breeze. With every passing moment, the nervousness that had initially gripped you dissipated, replaced by a growing affection.

Then, as you rounded a quieter corner near the park, Max paused, turning to face me. The city lights danced in his eyes, and the warmth between you two was undeniable.

“Can I—” he hesitated, his gaze searching yours, “Can I kiss you again?”

You nodded, your heart fluttering wildly. “Definitely.”

He leaned in, his lips brushing softly against yours, igniting a flurry of butterflies in your stomach. This kiss was different, deeper, and more meaningful than the last—an unspoken promise of what was to come.

You pulled away, and you laughed breathlessly, trying to catch your breath.

“You know, if this goes viral too, at least it’ll be a better story,” Max teased, a charming smile spreading across his face.

“Let them talk!” you giggled, feeling a wave of confidence wash over you. “As long as it’s with you, I’m in.”

“Good,” he replied, his expression sincere. “Because I think we’re just getting started.”

With that, hand in hand, you continued your stroll, the world around you two fading into a beautiful blur as you embraced the adventure that lay ahead—together.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm golden hue over the paddock. You and Max walked hand in hand, the sensation both electrifying and soothing.

The world had made a spectacle of your private moment, and now, as you stepped into the paddock, everyone watched, their eyes glimmering with curiosity and amusement.

“Why do you have to look at me like that? It’s making me weak, please stop,” you said, your voice a soft murmur as you caught his gaze.

His eyes sparkled with mischief, but there was something deeper—an unspoken promise that made your heart race.

Max chuckled, a warm laugh that seemed to drown out the chatter of the surrounding crowd. “Look at you, though. How can I not? You’re stunning today,” he said, his fingers gently squeezing yours.

He was always so effortless, a confidence that could light up a room, and now he was casting that glow on you.

You blushed slightly, trying to suppress a smile. “You know that’s not fair. You always know what to say to make me squirm,” you replied playfully, a hint of teasing in your voice.

“I’m just being honest,” he replied, turning serious for a moment. “You have to know how lucky I feel. I can’t stop thinking about you,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, intimate tone.

The sincerity in his words made you feel exposed, yet cherished.

You felt a blush creeping up your cheeks at the compliment. “Lucky, huh? You’re the one racing in the fastest cars in the world. I’m just here, taking selfies and trying not to trip over all the cables.”

He squeezed your hand, a reassuring gesture that made you feel as if the two of you were in your own little world, separate from the high-octane chaos surrounding you. “Nah, the real race is in my heart. And you’ve won it.”

“Smooth talker,” you said, rolling your eyes playfully, though your heart fluttered at his words. “Just wait until you end up on the podium again; you’ll be too busy celebrating to remember little ol’ me.”

“Not a chance,” he replied, his voice filled with conviction. “You know I’d dedicate every race to you if I could. Last time on the podium—remember? I pointed to you. That was for you.”

“Yeah, I remember,” you said, your smile wide. “You were practically glowing. It was such an amazing moment.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt happier,” Max said, a serious tone creeping into his voice. “Every time I look at you, I get reminded of what really matters.”

“Okay, now you’re going to make me cry,” you joked, but there was a hint of sincerity in your tone. “Don’t ruin my makeup, please!”

Max laughed, the sound warm and infectious. “I promise, I won’t deliberately make you cry. But you are basically my good luck charm. You have to come to every race now.”

“Deal. But I get to pick the after-party spots,” you replied, and he raised an eyebrow.

“Who said I was going to take you to an after-party? I might want to just take you home and cook you dinner.”

“Cook? You?” You laughed. “I thought you’d just rely on takeout after the races.”

“I can surprise you,” he said with a smirk. “Besides, there’s something nice about a home-cooked meal. Wouldn’t you want to try my pasta? I’ve perfected it over the years.”

“Fine, but it better not be like the time you tried to make pancakes and turned them into a science experiment,” you shot back, remembering the sticky disaster that had resulted in laughter and flour-coated walls.

“Hey! That was one time. I’m much better now,” he insisted, pretending to be offended. But the twinkle in his eyes told you he was just teasing.

As you walked past the team garages, you noticed the crew setting up for the next race, and the adrenaline of the environment pulsed through you. “Max, look at all of this hustle and bustle. Doesn’t it make your heart race?”

He nodded, his expression serious now as he gazed at the busy scene. “Definitely. It’s the thrill of competition—everyone’s working hard for one goal. But to me, nothing compares to this moment with you.”

Your heart swelled at his words. “You really know how to make a girl feel special, don’t you?”

“I try my best,” he admitted, a playful grin returning. “But honestly, you inspire me to push harder, to be better. I want to win races, not just for myself, but for you.”

“Max, that’s so sweet. Just promise me you won’t risk it all out there. I can’t bear the thought of anything happening to you.”

His expression softened, and he brought your hands to his lips, kissing them gently. “I promise. I’ll always be careful. You and I have a lifetime of moments to create together, and I won’t let anything take that away.”

You both stood there for a moment, the noise of the paddock fading into the background as you simply enjoyed each other’s company. The world around you became a blur, and it felt as if time stood still.

“Alright, what’s next on our agenda?” Max asked, breaking the spell of the moment.

You glanced around thoughtfully. “How about we grab a bite to eat? I’m starving.”

“Perfect! I know this great place just down the road. And after that, I’ll show you my secret hiding spot in the paddock where I keep my trophies,” he said, winking at you.

“Trophies and secrets? You really do know how to woo a girl,” you replied, playfully nudging him as you both started walking toward the exit.

“Oh, I’ve got plenty more up my sleeve,” he said confidently, pulling you closer as you stepped into the evening light, hand in hand, ready to face whatever adventures were ahead. "You are my priority after all,"

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