Some Medical Charts I Made Were I Explore Fictional Diseases And Phenomenon

Don't Blame Me | MV1

Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: Y/N would do anything for Max, even if it means falling from grace.

Warning(s): Mild Language, Minor character death, mystery, crime, y/n is a mob boss but I didn't specify that. Max supports his girl's rights and wrongs. This is like, my 'fuck you' to the new FIA regulations. I reccomend listening to Taylor Swift's " Don't blame me" it's heavily inspired.

"And baby, for you, I would fall from grace. Just to touch your face. If you walk away..I'd beg you on my knees to stay"

The lights of Las Vegas shimmered like scattered jewels against the dark Nevada sky, their glow reflected in the streams of champagne that had soaked the paddock. The grandstands were still buzzing as fans filed out, their chants and cheers echoing in Max’s ears even as he sat in the quiet solitude of his driver’s room.

He hadn’t changed out of his race suit yet—his gloves were tossed onto the couch, his helmet discarded on the floor beside his boots. His hands trembled slightly, a cocktail of adrenaline and raw fury coursing through his veins.

Max had been close—so close to securing his championship. With every lap tonight, he had felt it, tasted it, seen the finish line and the trophy. But it wasn’t the second-place finish that had soured his mood. No, it was what had happened after, live on international television, with millions of fans watching.

He’d sworn at an FIA official.

The memory burned like acid in his mind, replaying on a vicious loop. The moment had been fleeting—a frustrated curse muttered under his breath during the cooldown lap, caught on a hot mic. But in this sport, fleeting moments had consequences. The fallout had been immediate. As Max sat there now, scrolling through his phone, the headlines were already popping up.

“Verstappen’s Outburst: Will the FIA Penalize the Championship Leader?”

“F1 Star Caught Swearing at Official – Points Deduction Incoming?”

“A Championship in Jeopardy?”

He tossed his phone onto the table, running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair. He could still feel the weight of the Las Vegas heat, the oppressive pressure of the race, and now the heavy burden of his own temper.

The door opened softly, and he didn’t need to look up to know who it was. He would recognize her presence anywhere.

“Max?” Y/N’s voice was warm, soft, like the first rays of sunlight after a storm.

He glanced up, his breath catching for just a moment. She stood in the doorway, radiant as ever, her tailored black dress clinging to her figure with an elegance that made her look like she belonged in a royal court, not the chaos of the paddock. Her hair framed her face in soft waves, and her sharp eyes—the color of polished obsidian—seemed to cut straight through him, seeing everything he tried to hide.

Her beauty had always mystified him, but it wasn’t just that. There was something about her, something deeper, something he couldn’t quite name. It was the way she carried herself, with an effortless grace and a quiet authority that even the most powerful people respected. She was warm and affectionate with him, but beneath that, there was an edge—a darkness he couldn’t place.

But he loved her. He loved her fiercely, deeply, with every part of himself. And in moments like these, when the world felt like it was caving in, she was the only one who could steady him.

She stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. The soft click of the latch felt final, sealing them in their own little world.

“You were amazing out there,” she said, her lips curling into a small smile as she approached him.

Max shook his head, his frustration boiling over. “Amazing doesn’t matter if I lose everything because of a stupid mistake. Did you see the headlines? They’re already talking about a points deduction.” His voice cracked slightly, betraying the fear beneath his anger.

Y/N knelt in front of him, placing a hand on his knee. Her touch was light, soothing, but her gaze was steady. “Max,” she said softly, “you need to breathe.”

“I can’t,” he snapped, though his voice lacked venom when he looked into her eyes. “I worked so hard for this, Y/N. They’re going to take it away from me over One. Stupid. Word.”

Her other hand came up, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. Her touch lingered, gentle but deliberate, and Max felt his pulse quicken. She had that effect on him—always had. There was something intoxicating about her, something that made him feel like he was standing on the edge of a precipice, ready to fall but knowing she’d catch him.

“You’re not going to lose anything,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “Do you know why?”

Max let out a bitter laugh. “Why?”

“Because you’re Max Verstappen,” she said simply, a small, knowing smile tugging at her lips. “You don’t crumble. You don’t let anyone take what’s yours. And more importantly—” She leaned in, her lips brushing against his temple as she whispered, “—because I won’t let them.”

A shiver ran down his spine. There was something in her tone, something unshakable and resolute, that made his anger falter.

He pulled back slightly to look at her, his brow furrowed. “What does that mean, schatje?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

Her smile widened, but it didn’t reach her eyes. There was something almost predatory in the way she looked at him—a sharpness that made his chest tighten. “It means..you don’t need to worry about the FIA. I'm sure they’ll come around.”

Max stared at her, his mind racing. There it was again—that edge, that darkness he couldn’t define. He didn’t know everything about her, and sometimes that scared him. But as he looked at her now, at the fierce determination in her gaze, he felt something else: safety. No matter how mysterious or dangerous she might be, he knew she would never let anything happen to him.

“Y/N…” he began, but she silenced him with a kiss.

It was slow, tender, and yet there was an urgency beneath it, a fire that made him forget the chaos of the night. Her hands slid up to cup his face, and he leaned into her, his anger and fear melting away in her embrace.

When she pulled back, her lips were curved into that same enigmatic smile. “Trust me, my love,” she said. “Everything is going to be alright.”

He wanted to believe her. He did believe her. But as he watched her stand and move to the window, her silhouette framed by the neon lights outside, he couldn’t shake the feeling that she knew something he didn’t.

“What did you mean when you said you won’t let them?” he asked cautiously.

Y/N turned to face him, her expression soft again, though her eyes still held that unreadable gleam. “It means I’ll do whatever it takes to protect you,” she said simply.

Her words should have comforted him, but instead, they sent a strange thrill through him—a mixture of awe and unease. He had always admired her sharp mind and unwavering confidence, but now, for the first time, he wondered how far she would go for him.

He stood and crossed the room to her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close. She fit against him perfectly, her warmth anchoring him. “You’re incredible,” he murmured against her hair.

She tilted her head up to look at him, her smile softer now. “So are you,” she replied. “And you’re going to win this championship. No one can take that from you.”

He nodded, resting his forehead against hers. “As long as I have you, I’ll be okay,” he said quietly.

Y/N’s smile widened, but there was something almost mischievous in it. “Always,” she promised.

Max held her tighter, burying his face in her shoulder. He didn’t see the flicker of satisfaction in her eyes, the way her lips curved into something darker for just a moment before she kissed his cheek.

Whatever storm was coming, she would handle it. For Max, she would do anything.

______________________

The hotel room was dark except for the faint glow of the moon filtering through the sheer curtains, it was quiet. Max lay sprawled on the plush king-sized bed, his body turned toward the door.

Sleep had found him reluctantly, but even now, as the faint hum of the air conditioner filled the room, his dreams flickered with images of the track and the ever-present storm of pressure swirling around him.

The soft click of the door opening stirred him slightly. His brows furrowed, and his body shifted on the bed, muscles taut for a brief second before he relaxed again. It was her. Even through the haze of sleep, he knew it was Y/N. Her steps were light, deliberate, as though she were trying not to disturb him. After all, it was past midnight, everyone was supposed to be asleep.

Max cracked one eye open, catching a glimpse of her silhouette. She slipped into the room with the quiet grace he had always admired, her figure lit faintly by the moonlight. She closed the door softly behind her, the latch clicking into place. He didn’t move or say anything, caught between sleep and wakefulness, but he tracked her as she made her way to the bathroom.

The soft sound of water running reached his ears, and Max’s lips twitched into a faint, sleepy smile. Y/N always had her routines. No matter how late it was, she would wash up, cleanse the day away before joining him in bed. Tonight, he noticed, she moved a little slower than usual, her pauses lingering as though tired and lost in thought.

The bathroom light clicked off, plunging the room back into darkness. He heard her padded steps as she made her way to the bed. The mattress dipped under her weight as she slid under the covers, her movements careful to avoid waking him.

But Max wasn’t fully asleep. His eyes fluttered open slightly, just enough to catch the outline of her face as she settled beside him. The faintest scent teased his nose, and his mind stirred in curiosity. It wasn’t her usual perfume—the luxurious, rich fragrance she always wore. No, this was something softer, floral, almost sweet. It clung faintly to her, just enough to be noticeable.

He made a quiet noise in his throat, half-formed words lost to the haze of drowsiness. Y/N turned slightly, her head shifting on the pillow, her movements almost instinctive.

“Shh, baby, sorry I was late” she whispered, her voice a soft murmur in the dark. Her hand reached out, brushing lightly against his arm. “Go back to sleep.”

But Max, even half-asleep, couldn’t resist her presence. He shifted closer, his body seeking hers as if by instinct. His arm looped around her waist, pulling her flush against him. His face buried itself in the crook of her neck, and the faint floral scent washed over him again.

“You smell different,” he mumbled, his words slurred with sleep.

Y/N let out a soft laugh, almost too quiet to hear. “Do I?” she replied, her tone light and teasing.

Max hummed, his lips brushing against the delicate skin of her neck. He didn’t have the energy to press further, the pull of sleep too strong. Instead, he kissed her there, his lips warm and lingering, a quiet gesture of affection that spoke volumes more than words ever could.

Her body relaxed against his, melting into his embrace. Max felt her fingers trace light, soothing patterns on the arm draped across her waist. He sighed contentedly, the tension he hadn’t even realized he was carrying slipping away.

“I love you,” he murmured, the words slipping out before sleep finally claimed him.

Y/N didn’t reply immediately, but he felt her fingers pause for the briefest moment. Then, she leaned her head back slightly, her lips brushing against his temple.

“I love you Max, I would do anything for you, anything, now go to sleep baby” she whispered, her voice like a lullaby.

The room fell silent again, save for the soft sounds of their breathing. Y/N’s eyes remained open for a while, staring at the ceiling, her mind far away even as her body stayed still, slowly her mouth turned into a smirk, and her eyes closed.

____________________________

The golden light of the Qatari sun filtered through the sheer curtains of the hotel room, casting faint patterns on the walls. Max stirred in the plush bed, the weight of sleep still heavy on his limbs. His mind clung to the remnants of dreams, hazy and indistinct, as the soft hum of the city below began to creep into his consciousness.

A faint vibration buzzed from his bedside table, pulling him further from the depths of slumber. With a groggy exhale, Max reached for his phone, squinting at the screen. It was a message from his team’s media coordinator, brief and urgent:

"Turn on the news. Now."

Max frowned, the words igniting a flicker of unease in his chest. He tossed the covers aside and padded over to the television mounted on the wall. The room was still dim, the only light coming from the muted glow of the TV as he switched it on.

The screen came to life, and the familiar logos of international news outlets filled the frame. A grave-faced anchor was speaking, her voice carefully controlled yet tinged with the urgency of breaking news.

“—confirmed that a high-ranking FIA official was found dead in his home late after midnight. Preliminary reports suggest that the death may have been caused by poisoning, though authorities have yet to release an official statement. The substance identified appears to be a botanical toxin, indicating a possible case of premeditated murder…”

Max’s heart thudded in his chest, a cold wave of disbelief washing over him. Poison? Murder? It was surreal, the kind of news you’d expect in a crime drama, not in the high-stakes world of Formula 1.

The footage shifted to an image of the official’s residence, a sleek and modern house surrounded by police cars and investigators. The camera zoomed in on a bouquet of delicate white flowers being carried out in a plastic evidence bag. The reporter’s voice continued in the background, detailing the discovery of the toxin in the flowers.

Max ran a hand through his hair, trying to process what he was seeing. His thoughts churned, tangled and scattered. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, staring at the screen in disbelief, before the soft creak of the bedroom door drew his attention.

Y/N emerged, wrapped in a hotel robe, her damp hair draped over one shoulder as she used a towel to gently dry the strands. The scent of her freshly washed skin reached him, a subtle blend of soap and something warm, clean, and uniquely hers.

Her eyes met his, and she smiled, a soft and familiar expression that always seemed to ground him. She crossed the room with effortless grace, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. Her touch lingered for a moment longer than usual, as if sensing the weight of his thoughts.

“What’s got your face looking like that?” she asked, her voice still husky from sleep.

Max gestured toward the TV, his gaze fixed on her as she turned to look. The screen was now displaying a photo of the deceased official, alongside snippets of speculation from various commentators.

Y/N’s expression didn’t change at first. She tilted her head slightly, her brows drawing together in a faint show of interest. But Max noticed the tiniest flicker in her eyes—a glint of something he couldn’t quite place. It was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by her usual composure.

“Well,” she said, her tone light but thoughtful, “that’s… unexpected.”

Max’s jaw tightened. “Unexpected doesn’t even begin to cover it. Poisoned flowers? It sounds insane.”

Y/N turned to face him fully, her towel draped over her shoulder now. She placed a hand on his cheek, her thumb brushing against his skin in a gesture meant to soothe.

“Maybe it’s best not to get caught up in it,” she suggested. “It doesn’t concern you, does it? You have a race to focus on.”

Her words were reasonable, logical even, but they didn’t sit right. Max searched her face, his gaze lingering on the curve of her lips, the serene confidence in her eyes.

“You’re not even a little curious?” he asked, his voice low.

“Of course I am,” she replied, stepping back toward the bedroom. “But there’s nothing I can do about it, and neither can you. Come on, Max. You should start getting ready.”

Max nodded slowly, though his eyes remained on her as she disappeared into the other room.

_______________________________

The sun beat down mercilessly over the circuit, its glare reflecting off the freshly polished cars and shimmering asphalt. Max stood near the paddock, his sharp eyes scanning the bustling crowd. The day was a blur of activity, with team personnel darting about, fans crowding the stands, and journalists swarming for their next soundbite. But amid the chaos, Max’s mind was elsewhere.

He had been pulled into a whirlwind of media duties almost the moment he arrived, barely getting a moment to himself, let alone to find Y/N. The gnawing guilt was persistent—he hated not being able to see her before the day kicked into full gear. It had become a ritual for him, a grounding moment amidst the madness of race weekends. Y/N had a way of centering him, her presence a soothing balm against the constant pressure of being the reigning world champion.

He sighed, adjusting the cap on his head as he prepared for yet another round of interviews. His answers came out on autopilot—stock phrases about tire strategy, team confidence, and the race ahead—but his gaze flickered restlessly over the sea of people, searching. And then, finally, he saw her.

Y/N was weaving through the paddock with an easy grace, her movements unhurried despite the frantic energy around her. She wore a light summer dress that flowed around her like a whisper of wind, her hair catching the sunlight in a way that made her look almost ethereal. Max felt his chest tighten, his lips twitching into a smile before he even realized it.

There was something about seeing her like this—calm, at ease, untouched by the frenzy of his world—that made his heart ache in the best way. It was moments like these that reminded him why he loved her so deeply. She was his sanctuary, his constant in a life that often felt like it was spinning out of control.

She noticed him then, her eyes lighting up as their gazes met. She waved, her smile wide and genuine, and Max’s guilt faded, replaced by a warmth that spread through his chest.

She was here, and that was all that mattered.

But before he could excuse himself to meet her, a journalist called his name, snapping him back to reality. Max nodded in acknowledgment, forcing himself to focus as the interview began.

He was midway through answering a question about tire degradation when the reporter paused, pressing a finger to the earpiece in his ear. The change in his expression was immediate—his brow furrowed, his posture straightening as if bracing for impact.

“Excuse me,” the journalist muttered, turning away abruptly.

Max blinked, thrown off by the sudden shift. “What’s going on?” he asked, but the man didn’t respond, already hurrying toward a group of FIA officials clustered nearby.

A loud chime echoed through the circuit, followed by an announcement over the PA system:

“Attention all personnel. The race has been postponed... All drivers are to return to their respective team garages..immediately.”

Confusion rippled through the paddock like a wave, whispers and murmurs growing louder as everyone scrambled to figure out what was happening. Max glanced around, his pulse quickening. This was unprecedented. Races didn’t just get postponed without an urgent reason.

He pushed through the throng of people, his eyes scanning for Y/N again. Relief flooded him when he spotted her standing near the Red Bull garage, her expression calm despite the chaos around her. She was waiting for him, her arms crossed loosely as if this were just another day at the track.

Max reached her in a few long strides, his hand immediately finding hers. Her fingers were cool against his, and he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze as they joined the rest of the Red Bull team heading into the garage.

“What’s going on?” Max asked her, his voice low.

“I’m not sure,” Y/N replied, her tone even. “I heard that some cops were here, but no one seems to know the details yet.”

Max nodded, though his unease only grew. The garage was bustling with activity as team members huddled around monitors, trying to piece together what little information they had. The drivers from other teams were filing into their respective areas, their faces marked by the same confusion that Max felt.

As they stood in the corner of the garage, Max turned to Y/N, his thumb brushing absentmindedly over her knuckles. “Where were you earlier? I didn’t see you before the interviews.”

Y/N tilted her head slightly, her expression thoughtful. “I was just catching up with someone I knew from before,” she said, her words casual.

Max raised an eyebrow, curious. “Will you see them again?”

For a moment, she didn’t respond, her gaze meeting his with an intensity that made his heart skip a beat. Then, a small, satisfied smile curved her lips, and she shook her head. “No,” she said simply. “I don’t think I will.”

Her answer lingered in the air, heavy with an unspoken finality that Max couldn’t quite decipher, and before he can ask her anything, he hears a commotion from the hospitality.

Max glanced at Y/N, his brows furrowing. “What’s that about now?” he asked, already walking towards the noise.

“I’m not sure,” Y/N replied, as she followed him out of the room.

The noise grew louder as they approached the main lounge, and Max felt the muscles in his shoulders tense. People were rushing toward the large television mounted on the far wall, their voices overlapping in a chaotic hum. Engineers, PR officials, and even a few journalists stood shoulder-to-shoulder, their eyes glued to the screen.

Max nudged his way through the crowd, Y/N close behind him. His heart skipped a beat as he caught sight of the bold, all-caps headline plastered across the news ticker:

BREAKING: FIA PRESIDENT ARRESTED IN CONNECTION TO MURDER OF OFFICIAL.

The image on the screen was enough to stop him in his tracks. Mohammed Ben Sulayem, the FIA president himself, was being escorted out of a building in handcuffs, flanked by stern-faced officers. His usually composed demeanor was gone, replaced by wide-eyed panic as he struggled against the officers’ grip.

“What the hell is going on?” Max muttered, his voice barely audible over the din of the room.

The reporter on the screen continued, her tone grave:

“Sources within the investigation have confirmed that the death of a high-ranking FIA official last night was caused by poisoning. Specifically, a toxin derived from the flower known as Lily of the Valley. Evidence linking FIA President Mohammed Ben Sulayem to the crime was uncovered earlier this morning, leading to his immediate arrest. The FIA has announced that a new acting president will be appointed while a thorough investigation into internal corruption is conducted.”

Max stared at the screen, his chest tightening as the implications sank in. The FIA president—the figurehead of their entire sport—was being accused of murder. And not just murder, but something so calculated and premeditated that it involved the use of a rare, deadly toxin.

Beside him, Y/N remained unnervingly calm. She didn’t gasp or murmur like the others; instead, she stood silently, her gaze fixed on the screen. For a fleeting moment, Max thought he saw the faintest flicker of something in her expression—amusement, maybe, or relief. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by her usual unreadable calm.

Before Max could even begin to process the shocking revelation, the tide of the crowd surged toward the exit. A new commotion was building outside, drawing people out of the hospitality lounge in waves. Someone muttered something about seeing it live—seeing him live—and the collective curiosity became too much to contain.

“Max, let’s go,” Y/N said quietly, her voice steady amid the chaos.

He didn’t think twice. Reaching for her hand, he let himself be pulled into the stream of bodies flowing toward the paddock. The crowd was a cacophony of voices—questions, speculations, and disbelief tumbling over each other in an endless loop. Max clung to Y/N’s hand, weaving through the throng until they found themselves near the front of the growing mass of spectators.

As they pushed closer to the source of the uproar, Max’s stomach twisted at the sight before him.

Mohammed Ben Sulayem was being escorted out of the FIA headquarters, flanked by two grim-faced officers. But this wasn’t the composed, authoritative man Max was used to seeing. This man looked broken, almost unrecognizable. His usually impeccable suit was now crumpled and stained with sweat, his hair disheveled, his face a mask of panic and fury.

He was shouting, his voice hoarse and raw with desperation. “I didn’t do it! I didn’t do it! You’re making a mistake!”

Max tightened his grip on Y/N’s hand, his heart hammering in his chest. The scene was chaotic, surreal. Journalists shouted questions, their cameras clicking furiously as they tried to capture every moment. Paparazzi pushed against the security barriers, their lenses trained on the disgraced president.

Sulayem’s struggles only made him look more deranged. His eyes darted wildly, his movements jerky as he tried to pull away from the officers.

“You have to believe me!” he yelled, his voice cracking. “This is a setup! I didn’t kill anyone!”

The officers remained stone-faced, their grips firm as they led him toward a waiting car. The crowd around them buzzed with speculation, their voices blending into a chaotic symphony.

“He looks insane,” someone near Max muttered.

“Can you believe this? Poisoning? This is wild”

Max barely registered the words. His gaze was locked on Sulayem, his mind reeling. This was the man who had presided over the sport, who had wielded so much power and influence. And now he was reduced to this—a wild-eyed, shouting man in handcuffs.

Suddenly, Sulayem’s gaze snapped toward the crowd, his eyes scanning the faces as though searching for something—or someone.

And then he saw Max.

For a moment, time seemed to slow. Sulayem’s eyes locked onto Max’s, and his expression twisted into something primal—anger, desperation, and fear all rolled into one.

“You!” Sulayem shouted, his voice cutting through the noise like a blade. “You don’t know! She’s crazy! She did this!”

Max’s breath caught in his throat. He wasn’t sure if Sulayem was even speaking to him specifically or just shouting into the void, but the intensity of the man’s gaze made it feel personal.

“She’s not who you think she is!” Sulayem screamed, his voice rising to a fever pitch. “She’s dangerous! She—”

The officers shoved him forward, cutting off his words as they guided him into the back seat of the car. The door slammed shut, muffling his continued shouting, and the vehicle began to pull away.

The crowd erupted into a frenzy, the sound of cameras clicking and voices shouting almost deafening. Max felt frozen in place, his mind struggling to process what he had just witnessed. Sulayem’s words echoed in his head, unsettling and inexplicable.

Beside him, Y/N’s hand tightened around his, grounding him. He turned to look at her, searching her face for… something. A reaction, an explanation, anything. But her expression remained calm, her gaze steady as she met his eyes.

“Let’s go,” she said softly, her tone gentle but firm.

Max nodded numbly, allowing her to guide him away from the chaos. But as they walked, Sulayem’s words continued to haunt him, gnawing at the edges of his thoughts.

She’s not who you think she is.

____________________________

The hotel room felt like a cocoon of silence after the storm that had unfolded earlier in the day. It was as though the whole world had shifted, and everything outside these walls was just noise, a distant hum that barely reached their sanctuary. The soft, distant chatter from the streets of Qatar, the echoes of excitement and chaos from the track, were now muted as Y/N stood by the window, staring out at the city lights.

She had always been good at keeping her emotions in check, ever since she was young. The weight of the world had never felt heavy on her, because she had learned long ago how to let things slide off her, like water on a slick surface.

But today was different.

She could feel the pressure weighing on Max, could see how the events of the day were eating at him, gnawing away at the edges of his focus, his usual confidence. He was quieter than usual, his mind occupied by something far more unsettling than the drama that had unfolded.

Even after Christian had called to tell Max that the swearing ban had been lifted, and that his championship points would be reinstated, it had done little to cheer him. The smile that had stretched across Max’s face had been brief, barely a flicker before the weight of everything else crushed it again. His eyes, once vibrant with determination, were now dull and distant, fixed on something he couldn’t touch—something he couldn’t solve in the way he would his car’s setup, or the strategy for the next race.

The news of the race being postponed for another two weeks hadn’t helped either. Max hated downtime. He hated the uncertainty, the lack of control. The race was all that had mattered for so long, and now, with it taken from him, all that was left was space to think. And that was the last thing Max Verstappen needed—more space to overthink.

Y/N could see it in the way his hands clenched at his sides when he wasn’t paying attention, or how his jaw tightened when a thought seemed to hit him too hard. He was lost somewhere, and she wasn’t sure if he would ever find his way back.

She pushed herself off the window frame and walked over to where he sat on the couch, his eyes glued to the screen in front of him, but she knew he wasn’t really seeing it. He hadn’t been seeing anything for hours. His mind was somewhere else.

It was then, as if the universe aligned, that she knew. She could feel it in her bones—this was what he needed. She walked over to him without a word, the soft rhythm of her footsteps steady in the quiet room.

She knelt down beside him, letting her arms wrap around his shoulders, pulling him close, burying her face against his neck.

The warmth of his skin against hers soothed the ache in her chest, the unspoken pain that had settled there ever since she had seen the look on his face during the arrest.

Max’s body tensed for a moment, his muscles rigid beneath her touch, before he relaxed into the embrace. She smiled against him, feeling his breath shudder slightly as he kissed the side of her neck, his lips pressing gently to her skin. His scent—clean, fresh, with a hint of something unmistakably Max—wrapped around her, grounding her.

She moved back, gently placing her hands on his face, urging him to look at her. When his eyes met hers, they were full of something unreadable. For a moment, his gaze lingered on her, searching her expression like he was trying to decipher something. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but she could see it—he was looking for a sign, something that would pull him out of the turmoil.

"Were you wearing a new perfume last night, when you came to bed? " His question is unsure, hesitant, as if he doesn't want to know the answer but he can't help himself.

"It's Lily of the Valley, one of my favourite flowers, I only use it for some occasions" she looks at him, waiting for him to react. Maybe this was it, he would push her away in disgust and alarm, and it all would've been for nothing.

The moment stretched, thick with unspoken words, and she waited. She wasn’t going to push him. He looked surprised, only for a brief moment and with another blink, the surprise was gone.

Then, as if a weight had finally lifted, his shoulders relaxed, and a soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips. It was fleeting, but it was there. The tension in his body dissolved just enough for him to pull her closer, his arms wrapping around her in a protective, almost desperate embrace.

Max held her tightly, burying his face in the crook of her neck, his breath warm against her skin. His hands tightened around her, her's going to rest on his chest, but this time it wasn’t out of tension. It was something else—something raw, something that spoke of trust, of the shared understanding between them.

Max’s voice was low, rough, like he hadn’t spoken in too long, like he needed to say these words to her, but they had been stuck inside him for a while.

“I love you so much, Y/N,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her forehead. His breath shuddered slightly as he said it, and she could feel the truth of it in every fiber of his being. It wasn’t just a declaration—it was a plea, a surrender. A quiet admission that, no matter what happened, no matter how hard things got, she was the one he held onto.

Y/N smiled softly, her fingers tracing the lines of his jaw, memorizing the feel of him, the warmth of his skin against hers. There was no hesitation in her touch. She knew, deep down, that she’d do anything for him. Anything to keep him close, to keep him safe, to keep him loving her the way he did.

“I love you so much, Max,” she whispered back, her voice thick with emotion. “So, so much.”

Her heart was pounding now, a steady rhythm that matched his own. She could feel it in the air between them, the undeniable truth of their love, the pull that had always been there, even in the darkest of moments. It was raw, it was real, and it was everything they needed.

She didn’t need to say it again. The words were unnecessary. Everything was in the way she held him, the way their bodies fit together like pieces of a puzzle that had been made for each other. In that moment, with the weight of everything else fading into the background, it was just them. Together.

Max’s hands tightened around her, pulling her closer, and Y/N closed her eyes, savoring the moment. The world could fall apart outside, and it wouldn’t matter. Because in that moment, Max was all that mattered. He always would be.

And as he kissed her temple, his breath warm against her skin, she knew—without a doubt—that she would do anything for him.

“Don’t blame me,” she thought, her own voice, soft but certain in her head. Love made me crazy. And if it doesn’t, you ain't doin' it right.

And she was doing it right. She always would.

Oh Lord, save me, my drug is my baby

I'll be usin' for the rest of my life

Usin' for the rest of my life, ohh-oh

________________________________________

Thanks for reading!

If you liked this story, please leave a like a comment and a reblog!

I'm dropping of the face of earth for some time, this is a small parting gift, I would like to make it clear I'm not planning any one's murder in my downtime. Thank you.

Jules♡

Taglist: @anamiad00msday @evie-119 @that-one-little-soybean @six-call @stressed-cherry @il0vereadingstuff @whatevenisthisxxxxx @freyathehuntress @nina-or-anna-or-nora @allthings-fandoms @larastark3107 @myescapefromthislife @wertyuizxcvbnm @halleest @hs2016 @lucyysthings @justaf1girl @bernelflo @mendes-bae @chelseyyouraverageluigi @llando4norris @sid-is-gr8 @henna006 @hurtblossom @quinquinquincy @ts1mp0ne @spidercat-soccerfan @kodzuvk @wherethefuckisthething @hellowgoodbye @prttylight

Did You Eat? - Max Verstappen

@harrysperfectdimple prompt request #19 - "You're making me so fat and every time I complain you make me feel better by buying me more food."

Summary: Max just wants to make sure his girlfriend is eating properly and y/n is trying to maintain a "healthy" weight with an enabler boyfriend.

Themes/warnings: Unhealthy eating habits, distressed scenes about weight

Word count: 1.2k

Y/n loves food of all kinds, one of her favourite things to do while travelling with Max is try the new cuisines of whatever country they're visiting. Not always a luxury Max can indulge in since he has a diet he still has to try and stick to. But he does encourage y/n to eat as much as he can.

It's a habit of his that came as a result of their early dating life when y/n would "forget" to eat but really just put off eating for as much of the day so that when the last meal of the deal would come along she'd eat and then go to sleep to prevent any further eating. Obviously that was a concerning habit for Max to witness and he's worked to force her to break it.

For y/n it's come at a cost.

"Oh my god." Y/n gasps in a whisper to herself in horror actually feeling tears gather in her eyes as she sees how much weight she's gained. "Fucking hell."

Y/n sniffles deciding she'll have to dodge Max for the day since he's home.

So she finds some clothes that cover her body without feeling like she looks like a slob and gets herself out the bedroom finding Max already setting up on his simulator which is going to make her mission to disappear for the day especially easy.

"Hey, baby. You're dressed up. Are you going out?" Max asks with a smile since he's not on the simulator quite yet.

"Yeah, figured I'd run a few errands. Make use of a nice day. Might stop somewhere to eat." Y/n smiles lightly trying to make sure she plays off hiding her thoughts that are internally wrecking her already. "I'll see you later. Have fun."

"You too. Love you." Max smiles as she leans over and kisses him before standing up.

"Love you too."

-

Y/n's stomach was actually aching with hollowness from a day of actively avoiding food as she finally returns home nearly 9pm. She'd even taking herself to the gym for a 3 hour session to the point her whole body aches.

She just has to shower and then get herself to sleep.

"Hey, baby. Is that you?" Max asks appearing from the bathroom with a towel dangerously low on his hips and if she was feeling more confident in herself, she'd pounce on him. And he almost seems to be expecting exactly that as she stares at him for a moment.

"I uhh...I'm tired. I'm just gonna shower then head to bed." Y/n mumbles earning a small nod but she knows she's made a grave error.

Max is like a blood hound for sniffing out her off moods and she hardly even tried to hide it all. The lack if food making her mood completely out of her usual control.

Unsurprisingly Max follows her to the bathroom silently and hops up on the counter as she turns on the water and strips off. And he stays silent the whole time she showers while y/n completely avoids looking at him and rushes through the shower to try and just get herself to bed.

"You going to tell me what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. I'm just tired, it's been a long day and I've been busy. How was the races?" Y/n shrugs trying to dodge the issue entirely.

If Max clocks that she hasn't eaten, the whole effort for the day will be for nothing.

"Cuddle?" Y/n asks trying to soften the Dutchman who finally softens and smiles at the offer.

She's only hoping they can both fall asleep before her stomach starts making some wild noises. But she does make sure to put on a movie that is quite loud so that should hopefully mask any noises that do make her stomach known.

Thankfully the plan works but the next morning she pays the price and her stomach just aches while she feels so exhausted that she can't manage to drag herself out of bed even after realising that Max is already up and getting on with her day.

So she decides a day of bed rotting will be her choice of dodging food. Sadly for her Max has already clocked onto what she was doing yesterday and he appears ripping the blanket off of her with a determined aggression.

"Hey, what the hell? I don't feel well."

"I know you don't and you don't feel well because you haven't eaten in over a day and the fact that you thought I wouldn't notice is annoying." Max states coldly since he hates when she does this but he immediately softens when tears bring spring from her eyes. "Hey, what's wrong? Why are we having this conversation again?"

"You're making me so fat and every time I complain you make me feel better by buying me more food." Y/n hiccups while Max's eyes widen and he sits on the bed, gathering her body up to just hold her in his lap.

"Baby, what are you talking about you're not fat at all?" Max frowns while y/n sniffles.

"I weighed myself and I've put on 5 kilos, Max. That's not healthy and I see it-I have stretch marks on my thighs and my stomach and it's-"

"Stop it. Stop. Baby, you are so beautiful and I just want you to be healthy and eat because you need to eat." Max sighs shaking his head. "And I throwing them fucking scales away."

"Don't treat me like that. I'm not happy." Y/n mumbles while Max squeezes her a little.

"Baby, if you want to lose weight then you have to do it healthily. You can't just starve yourself." Max sighs and she hates him because she knows he's right but it's not any nicer to hear. "How about we just talk to a proper dietitian and nutritionist and Rupert can even get you working out with me and we'll find a healthy way for you to keep eating and to lose weight like you want-but you're not just losing weight till you dwindle away."

"Ok." Y/n mumbles with a small nod.

"Good girl. Now before we do all that. You are eating something. Healthy or not, you body needs food and that's why you don't feel good, and you're in a bad mood and you're unhappy."

"Fine." Y/n sighs before accepting a kiss while she smiles a little at the fact that she knows she's lucky to have a man who cares as much and in the way Max does. Even if she wishes he'd let her be unhealthy. She knows she does appreciate him being this way towards her. "Thank you."

"Anything for you, baby. I'm here to take care of you. I love you."

"I love you too, a lot."

"Now come on, I've got a bunch of food for you to choose from. I'll even spoon feed you."

Knight of My Heart

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: After one too many drinks, a protective Max arrives right when you need him most.

1.7k words / Masterlist

It was nearly 2am when Max’s phone buzzed on his nightstand, dragging him from the edges of sleep. The faint light from his screen illuminated the dark room, and he reached for it with a groggy hand, squinting at the text that appeared.

“She’s drunk. Like realllly drunk. Can you come get her?”

Max sat up, his heart already sinking. The message was from one of your friends, someone whose name he only half-remembered from the countless times they’d insisted they’d “watch out for you.” Max knew better by now. He sighed, ranking a hand through his messy hair, before throwing the blanket off and quickly pulling on a hoodie and jeans.

The drive to the club was quiet, but Max’s mind wasn’t. He hated these nights. It wasn’t just the thought of you being drunk and vulnerable; it was the idea that you were so carefree and beautiful, and people always noticed. Too many times Max had seen guys try to get too close, their smiles too slick and intentions too obvious.

When he finally pulled up outside the club he saw you almost immediately. His grip on the steering wheel tightened.

You were leaning against a lamp post near the curb swaying slightly in your heels, a dazed smile on your face as a man hovered beside you. Max’s chest tightened at the sight. The guy was too close, his body angled toward yours as he spoke animatedly, gesturing with his hands. You laughed softly at whatever he said, your voice carrying over the low thrum of the music spilling from the club’s entrance.

Max killed the engine and climbed out, his jaw set. His strides were purposeful, closing the distance between you in seconds.

“Maxie!” you squealed the moment you spotted him, your arms flinging open in delight.

“You’re here!” you exclaimed, throwing your arms around his torso and nearly toppling yourself over in the process.

The guy looked over at Max, not at all intimidated, but Max didn’t care. His jaw tightened, his fists clenching by his sides as he stepped closer.

“You good?” Max asks you, his voice a little rougher than usual.

The man gave Max a once-over, clearly sizing him up. “She seems fine to me,” he said, his tone too casual for Max’s liking.

Max’s eyes narrow, the jealousy coursing through him now unmistakable. He took a step closer to you, brushing his hand lightly against your shoulder. “Oh because you know her so well, right?” he asked the guy, voice clipped.

With a taunting smirk, the guy raised his hands in mock surrender. “She was just telling me about her night. She looked like she needed some company.”

Max wasn’t having it, he stands tall, his body blocking your view of the man now. “Right, I don’t think you understand,” Max replied dryly, placing a firm hand on your waist. “I’m her boyfriend, she's mine. Thanks for your concern, but I’ll take it from here.”

The man’s lips twitched, as though he wanted to argue, but something in Max’s gaze seemed to convince him otherwise. With a tight nod, he muttered a quick, “Whatever man,” and walked off into the crowd.

As the guy disappeared, Max’s frustration didn’t completely fade, but he focused right back on you. Guiding you towards his car, hand never leaving your side. You leaned into him, your cheek resting against his shoulder the alcohol making your limbs feel heavy.

You looked up at him, your face slightly flushed, your eyes half-lidded. “You okay?” you asked quietly.

Max’s lips press together tightly, trying to ignore the flare of jealousy still lingering. “I’m fine,” he said, even though he’s anything but. "Just... I want you to be safe, alright?"

You nod, though your head wobbles slightly. "I know... just wanted to have fun."

Max exhaled slowly, his tension only easing slightly as he turned to you. You were beaming up at him, clearly oblivious to the small confrontation that had just unfolded.

“I get it,” he said softly, his hand steadying you at your waist. “But where are your friends?”

“They’re inside,” you mumbled, waving a hand vaguely toward the club entrance. “Or somewhere. I don’t know. I came out to get some air.”

Max sighed, scanning the area for any sign of your group. Just then a few of your friends emerged from the club giggling.

“Max!” One of them called her tone far too cheery. “She’s all yours.”

Max’s brows furrowed, his frustration bubbling over. “Why did you let her get this drunk?” he snapped. “Anything could’ve happened to her out here!”

Your friend blinked, her smile faltering. “She’s a big girl Max. Besides, we knew you’d come.”

“That’s not the point,” Max said, his voice sharp. "You should’ve made sure she was safe.”

Your friends exchanged glances mumbling something, he exhaled heavily running a hand through his hair. “Look, I’m glad you've all had fun, but next time just… watch out for her yeah? She’s very important to me.” He gazed down at you.

Your friends exchanged glances, some looking sheepish, others visibly annoyed at his tone.

“We had it under control, Max,” one of your friends said, her tone defensive. “We weren’t going to babysit her all night.”

Max’s jaw clenched. “Being there for your friend isn’t babysitting, it’s just what you do.”

Another friend, the quieter one of the group spoke up “Okay Max. We’ll keep a better eye on her next time, promise.”

“Thank you,” he said simply, looking back down at you. Your eyes were half-closed, a lazy smile on your lips as you mumbled something unintelligible against his chest.

Max shook his head, a mix of exasperation and fondness crossing his face. “Alright,” he said to the group, his tone a little lighter now. “I’m taking her home. Get back safely.”

“We will,” the quieter friend said, giving him a small, apologetic smile.

Max turned to you with a sigh of relief. “Let’s get you home.”

Max guided you to the car, his hand never leaving your waist. You leaned into him heavily, giggling at every little thing—the way his hand steadied you, the low muttering under his breath, even the way he opened the car door for you like you were royalty.

“You’re so nice to me, Maxie,” you said, settling into the passenger seat with a content sigh.

“I’m always nice to you,” he replied, pulling the seatbelt across your body and clicking it into place.

“You are,” you agreed, your voice soft and dreamy. “You’re my favourite person, you know that?”

Max froze for a moment, sure his heart skipped a beat, before he shook his head and closed your door.

The drive home was quiet, save for your occasional hums and mumbled comments about the pretty city lights. Max glanced at you every so often, his hand gripping your thigh, your eyes fluttering shut for brief moments.

When he finally pulled into his apartment’s parking garag you stirred, blinking sleepily. Inside you clung to him like a lifeline, your arms looped around his neck as he guided you to the bathroom.

“You’re so tall,” you murmured, your head resting against his chest. “Like a tree. A strong, handsome tree.”

Max chuckled despite himself, shaking his head as he set you down on the bathroom counter. “You’re ridiculous.”

“But you like me anyway,” you said, your grin lazy and smug.

He didn’t respond, instead reaching for a makeup remover wipe from the cabinet. You watched him curiously as he carefully cupped your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“Taking your makeup off,” he said simply.

You stared at him, your expression unreadable, as he carefully wiped at your face. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, and he avoided your eyes, focusing instead on the task at hand.

"You take such good care of me." You whispered, reaching up to touch his hand. “You don’t have to, you know?”

“I know,” he said with a slight frown, his eyes finally meeting yours. “But I want to. You deserve it.”

“Come on, let’s get you to bed.” Max carried you to the bedroom, letting you climb him like a koala as you giggled into his shoulder. He set you down gently, pulling the covers over you before crouching beside the bed. You blinked at him sleepily, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“You’re like a knight,” you mumbled, your voice thick with drowsiness. “My very own knight in shining armour.”

Max chuckled, shaking his head. “A very tired knight,” he replied, brushing a stray hair from your face. “But you’re going to hate me in the morning if I let you go to sleep without water and something for your hangover.”

“I don’t hate you,” you slurred, blinking up at him with glassy eyes. “I could never hate you.”

His chest tightened at the sincerity in your tone, “Stay awake for just a few more minutes okay? I’ll be right back.”

You made a soft noise of protest as he stood, but you didn’t try to stop him. Max moved quietly through the apartment, grabbing a glass from the kitchen and filling it with cold water. From the bathroom he grabbed a pack of paracetamol, the domesticity of the routine bringing a faint smile to his lips.

When he returned you were still half-propped against the pillows, your eyes fluttering open at the sound of his footsteps.

“Here,” Max said, sitting on the edge of the bed. He handed you the glass and pressed two pills into your palm. “Take these and drink some water. Trust me, you’ll thank me in the morning.”

You squinted at the pills like they’d personally offended you. “Do I have to?”

“Yes,” Max replied firmly, his lips quirking upward. “No arguments.”

“Bossy,” you muttered, but you popped the pills into your mouth and swallowed them with some water. “Happy now?”

“Very.”

You handed the glass back to him, and he set it on the nightstand before leaning forward to pull the blankets higher around you.

“I’m so lucky you’re my Maxie,” you sighed.

“Sleep,” he said softly, stroking your cheek.

“Stay,” you murmured, your eyes already half-closed.

Max hesitated, his heart twisting with adoration, before nodding. “I’ll be right here.”

Mini Verstappen Series Masterlist

Paring: Single Dad!Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader

At the end of 2020, Max Verstappen gets the surprise of his life when he finds out that his ex-girlfriend had given birth to a son, his son. A year and a half later Max's longtime girlfriend of 8 months finds out about his son Nico.

This is an ongoing series. I'm always adding to it. The masterlist changes often.

I do take requests for this. If there is anything that you want to see happen in this series just message me in my ask box. All of my normal request rules apply.

Reader Face Claim: Hande Erçel

Total Published Word Count: 78,420 Words

Disclaimer: This work below is fictionalized ideas and stories involving real people but does not directly reflect their thoughts, feelings, or behaviors. Please keep in mind that this is a work of fiction, so enjoy it as such.

𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑂𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑟

0.0. Prologue - [December 10, 2020]

Max finds out that he has a son. And it changes his world.

0.1. Be Something You'll Love and Understand [December 11, 2020] Outtakes

He knew that he should have called his mom yesterday but he was still wrapping his head around the idea of being a father.

0.5. The Moment You Smiled At Me - [December 27, 2021]

The evening that started it all for Max and Reader.

1. Mini Verstappen - [August 15, 2022]

You get a small surprise the first time you visit Max’s apartment.

1.5. Girlfriend? - [November 1, 2022] Request

You meet Nico.

1.8. Caught - [June 4, 2023] 18+ Outtakes

Lando swears he knocked before walking into Max's hotel room, maybe he should have yelled before opening the door.

2. Change - [November 26, 2023 + January 2, 2024]

It’s the end of the F1 season. Some things are changing for the Verstappen's.

SMAU #1. The Secrets Out - [December 31, 2023 - January 1, 2024]

3. A Lioness Protects Her Cub - [May 5 - 9, 16, 23, 2024] Request

Reporters are vultures and Max picks out a ring.

4. Day At The Karting Track - [June 14, 2024]

Nico starts karting. It opens a small can of worms.

4.5 The Engagement - [August 15 - 16, 2024]

He moved his hand over yours, moving the engagement ring that he placed on your finger, side to side.

SMAU #2. Through Max's Eyes - [March 8, July 30 - August 15, 2024]

5. Something Bad, Something Good - [August 17 - 19, 2024] Request

Reader deals with the haters on Twitter, Nico calls Reader Mama. Max claps back at the haters on Instagram like the malewife that he strives to be.

5.5 Time to Move? - [August 25, September 15, 2024]

When Max had brought up moving, it was because the lease on his apartment was going to be up at the end of the year. Maybe it was time to find a new place for all of you.

6. Race Day - [October 20, 2024] Request

Nico tags along with Max during a race day in Monza, well as much as he can.

6.1 White Wedding - [February 2, 2025] Request

Max and the Reader's wedding day. OG Wedding Headcanon with social media from their honeymoon.

6.5. Give and Take (Kind of Love We Make) - [February 28, 2025] 18+ Request (The Morning After)

Max had a plan in his head for the evening. He had mapped out the track before, and intended to keep to his strategy until they got home.

6.7. To Constantly Be Away - [March 9 & 10, 2025]

Second race of the season and Max is already having a tough time with the car. Missing his family only makes it worse.

7. From Three to Four - [April 4, 2025]

Reader tells Max that your expecting, he doesn't have the best reaction at first.

8. Stones To Throw At My Creator - [July 19, 2025]

He wasn't his father. He would never raise Nico like that.

SMAU #3. The Verstappens - [January 8, February 2, May 26, December 3, 2025]

8.7 Give Me Eyes To See - [December 8, 2025]

Nikita's first few days at home. Flashbacks to moments from the reader's pregnancy.

8.8 Nikita's First Christmas - [December 24-25, 2025]

Nico's first Christmas with his baby brother.

8.9 Ghost of Bittersweet Memories - [January 25, 2026]

A few of the drivers visit you and Max for the day, and you end up talking with Charles about a woman that he meets at an FIA event. (This is the conversation I referenced in Part 2 of Bittersweet.)

9. Glass Houses - [February 17, 22, 23, 2026]

When Raymond had called you about going and getting lunch, you should have known that something was going on.

9.5. All That I Can Give - [May 10, 2026]

Another Mother's Day and one of Nikita's firsts.

9.7. On Sleepless Roads, The Sleepless Go - [December 2-3, 2026]

It's the early hours of Nikita's first birthday, and you can't help but look back at the day you brought your son into the world.

SMAU #4. A Year in Moments - [February 10, May 28, August 2 & 27, October 22 & 31, 2026]

10. Redline - [May 25, 2027]

"I'm sorry, mijn leeuwin. I know you were excited to announce it to everyone."

10.5. Mommy and Me - [May 31 - June 6, 2027] Request

Late one evening after dinner Y/N brought up the idea to Max for her to take Nico out for the day.

11. X3 - [July 8-9, 2027]

“Hallo, kleine welp,” Max said.

11.5. She's Not Acid Nor Alkaline - [December 8, 2027]

Max and Reader have a night away from the kids in Santorini for the 2027 FIA Prize Giving Gala.

SMAU #5. Welcoming Another Verstappen - [2027]

12. Hey, Little Sister - [March 27 - November 20, 2028]

“You wanted this Max. You wanted her.”

SMAU #6. A Year to Celebrate - [2028]

12.5. Of Father’s and Children - [June 18, 2029]

Father’s Day 2029

13. The End of An Era - [November 2030]

The days leading up to Max retiring from Formula 1. The Article announcing his retirement. And the last race of his F1 career.

14. No Time To Die - [2031]

Max goes racing at Nürbergring and it doesn't end well.

15. Right On Track - [2036]

Checking in with the Verstsppens in 2036.

16. Letters From The Past - [November 17, 2038]

Max and Reader sit down to read the letters that Amelia (Nico's birth mom) wrote.

𝐸 𝒳 𝒯 𝑅 𝒜 𝒮

Pinterest Board

Playlist

Paring Evolution

Timeline

Dividers made by @cafekitsune | Banner made by me

Mini Verstappen taglist: @karmabyfernando, @barcagirly, @sachaa-ff, @iamahallucinationnn, @musingsbyshreya, @glow-ish, @nonsensical-nonsence, @fanboyluvr, @champomiel, @gothicwidowsworld, @lighttsoutlewis, @itsalwaysgay, @minkyungseokie, @mynameisangeloflife, @ursforever129, @aundercover, @bborra, @mindless-rock, @cixrosie, @barcelonaloverf1life, @taylorslovesswifties13, @konsti081, @mellowarcadefun, @smnthnclj, @brekkers-whore, @lpab, @thedecalcomania-blog, @xoscar03, @em-gvf01, @haikyuen, @shelbyteller , @geniusalpaca, @princessria127 , @mysticalnightenthusiast , @green-thots , @leah-also-known-as-creatoronwp

Paddock Bunny 4

AN: Sorry it took so long! I've decided to forget about the schedule I once had and I will be updating this when I feel the motivation to write for it! I love my Bunny and want to keep writing for her. I was originally gonna write George's DSQ but decided to hold off so look out for the next few days to see the next part to Paddock Bunny!!!

TW: ROUGH sex, slapping, spanking, multiple orgasms, protected sex, UNPROTECTED sex, oral, creampie, face fucking, MDNI 18+

WC: 3.1k

Oscar Piastri x Reader

Y/N POV

The Mclaren garage after Oscar's first win is very different from when Lando won his first Grand Prix. Everyone is trying to be excited for the young Australian driver but there's an undertone in the room that is making it more awkward than anything.

I make my way to Oscar's driver room knowing he would be alone since his engineer had just walked back towards my dad to do their debrief.

"Come in," I hear Oscar call out when I knock gently on the door. When he sees that it's me he instantly breaks out into a wide smile.

"I'm so fucking proud of you," I say while making me way to where he is sitting on the couch before climbing into his lap and into my arms.

"I think you are the first person from the team to say that," Oscar mumbles into my chest where he had buried his face.

"Not even Tom?" I say while pulling his face up to look up at me. He just kinds of shrugs the question off.

"Probably but it's been a bit of a blur if I'm being honest," Oscar tells me making me smile. When he sees me smiling he starts to smile too letting his eyes shine in excitement for the first time since I've walked into the room.

"I think that was the most awkward podium I've ever been on," Oscar whispers making me pout. It was awkward just watching it happen so I couldn't imagine being up there.

"You deserved better," I tell him softly while my fingers lightly trace over his cheek bones making him look up with a soft smile.

"If a weird ass podium gets you in my lap at the end of the day, I'll suffer every race," Oscar tells me with a smirk while dropping his hands from my waist down to my ass where he gives it a little squeeze before pulling me in closer and bringing his lips to mine.

"Lily, called and said you looked beautiful in the garage," Oscar tells me softly making me smile.

"Tell her thank you," I whisper before leaning down and pulling him in for another kiss. Feeling Oscar's tongue tangling with mine I can't help the small moan slipping from my lips.

"Will you be spending your night with me?" Oscar asks me softly making me smile and nod my head.

"Only if you'll have me over?" I reply back.

"Of course I want you over. I sure my mom will want me to call her when I get to the hotel so," Oscar kind of trails off not really being able to find the right words to what he's saying.

"I'll hide in the bathroom while she calls," I say with a small smile making a sign of relief excape Oscar's lips.

"I also have parents I don't want knowing about this," I say with a laugh making Oscar realize he's not alone in wanting to keep this all under wraps.

When we finally get back to Oscar's hotel room he makes himself comfortable on the bed and gives his mom a ring while I hide in the bathroom.

I spent my time texting Lando letting him rant about how he felt about the race but as soon as I hear the bathroom door open I put my phone down and look up to find Oscar making his way into the bathroom.

I'm sitting on the bathroom counter which is perfect for Oscar to quickly slots himself between my spread thighs while pulling me closer into him.

"Good chat?" I ask softly making Oscar nod before pulling me even closer to him before pulling me in for a soft kiss. He quickly deepens the kiss pulling me into his arms and walking the both of us towards the bedroom where he quickly plops me down on the bed before pulling off the flimsy dress I was wearing leaving me in my matching bra and panties.

"Look so pretty," Oscar says while pulling at the string of my thong before letting it snap back against my skin making me whimper.

Oscar quickly pulls his phone out and snaps a few pictures making my cheeks heat slightly but trusting him enough that they would be for 'his' eyes only.

Once Oscar gets a few more pictures he tosses his phone somewhere out of sight before he's pulling off his shirt letting me see his toned chest.

I quickly wrap my arms around his shoulders and pull his body down on top of mine letting my nails trail his back while his mouth starts exploring my jaw and neck.

"So pretty," Oscar mumbles into my skin making me giggle at the way his breath tickled my skin. When his mouth finds my sweet spot I let out a small whine when I feel his teeth sink into my skin leaving a small hickey behind.

I can feel Oscar leaving a small trail of hickeys down my neck and towards my bra covered tits where he quickly unclips the back of my bra and discarding it somewhere across the room before he attaches his mouth to my hardened nipple.

"Osc," I moan softly when I feel his tongue start twirling around the sensitive bud. I feel Oscar softly tugging on the barbell through my nipple making me whimper at the stimulation.

"Sound so pretty," Oscar mumbles before trailing his mouth to my other nipple and giving it the same treatment as the previous one. Once both of my nipples are standing at attention from Oscar's mouth he pulls my panties down my legs and tosses them somewhere along with the rest of my discarded clothes.

When I feel Oscar's mouth near my core I can't help but try and pull him closer to where I need him the most which only has him pulling back and sending a harsh slap to my inner thigh.

"Ow! Oscar," I cry out in a loud whine making Oscar look up at me with a smirk before leaning down and kissing my lips softly.

"Patience," Oscar whispers before leaning back down near my core but instead of bringing his mouth to where I need him he starts trailing soft kisses all along my inner thighs and even leaving a few small hickeys behind before I finally feel his tongue softly start exploring my folds making me whimper.

The more Oscar's tongue explores my soaked folds the tighter my grip on his hair gets making me pull his hair trying to bring him closer to where I need him the most.

"Fuck," Oscar groans when I pull his hair hard enough making me whimper at the vibrations his voice sent straight to my core.

"More please," I beg wiggling my hips trying to bring Oscar's mouth to my throbbing clit.

"Ah! Yes," I whine when I finally feel Oscar's tongue lightly graze over my clit before moving his mouth back to my inner thigh making me whimper at the loss of contact.

"Oscar! Stop teasing," I cry out only making him pull back and slap my inner thigh once again.

"Let me enjoy watching you fall apart for me," Oscar whispers with a smirk before leaning down and spitting directly onto my clit and using a few fingers to roughly rub it into my clit giving me the stimulation I had been chasing but being far too rough to give me true pleasure.

"Osc, please," I whine again. This time Oscar leans down slightly placing a soft kiss on my sensitive clit before pulling it into his mouth making me sign in relief from the stimulation which quickly turns into a soft scream when his teeth sink into my clit.

"Oscar!" I cry when I feel him biting down onto my clit and tugging is before releasing.

"I said patience," Oscar teasing in a sing song voice before flicking my nipple piercing making me jump at the stimulation.

When Oscar finally climbs off the bed I see him pulling the rest of his clothes off, making me bite my lip softly when I see his already hard length.

Oscar climbs back into bed and quickly rolls a condom on making me bite my lip making me realize he's finally gonna give me the stimulation I was looking for.

When I feel the tip of Oscar's fat cock nudging at my clit I can't help the moan that falls from my lips.

"Beg for it," Oscar's smug voice rings out breaking me out of my lust induced haze to find him looking down at me with a smirk.

"Please," my voice weakly rings out in the room while I bring my hand down to his cock trying to get him to push his cock in.

"Greedy little thing," Oscar says with a smirk while pulling his hips back so I'm no longer touching his cock.

"Oscar God damn in, I need you to fuck me," I finally snap at the Aussie making him look down at me with a raised brow.

"Please," I add weakly.

Oscar wastes no time slamming his hips into mine filling me up with his cock and thrusting not giving me any time to adjust to his size.

"Fuck," I cry out when Oscar start thrusting directly into my G-spot.

I feel Oscar's arms wrap around my legs and pull them over his shoulders before leaning down and fucking me at a new angle.

"You take my cock so well," Oscar grunts out before placing a soft kiss on my lips while I moan into his mouth.

"Fuck, too much," I cry out when I can already feel an orgasm starting to build.

"Too. Much?" Oscar says while slowing down his thrusts but making sure to thrust into me roughly with each word.

"You were just crying for this? No?" Oscar teases before picking up his thrusts again and fucking into my soaked pussy even harder.

"I'm gonna cum," I cry out when Oscar continues to fuck me not letting his pace slow down in the slightest.

"I don't care, I'm not done fucking you," Oscar roughly tells me, making sure I know this is about his pleasure.

When I fall over the edge for the first time I can't help but squirt all over Oscar and I but it does nothing to slow him down.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," I cry in a chant as he continues to fuck me harder not giving me any time to come down from my high only throwing me instantly into another orgasm.

"Oscar!" I cry out through my second orgasm of the night. Instead of Oscar acknowledging me he quickly pulls out of my overly abused pussy and quickly flipping me over so I'm on all fours before pushing back into the gummy walls of my pussy.

"Fuck!" I cry when Oscar starts fucking me just as rough in a new angle hitting me in all different spots.

"So good," Oscar grunts letting the grip he has on my hips tighten before he takes one hand and slaps my ass as hard as he can,

"Fuck," I cry out when the pain of his spank finally registers through all the pleasure.

"Fuck, you're gonna cum again," Oscar points out when he can feel me clenching around him.

When Oscar starts slapping my ass and fucking into my pussy I fall over the edge again making me cry out.

"I can't!" I cry when I can feel Oscar starting to fuck me harder through my third orgasm.

When I can feel the overstimulation start to take course I can't help the tears that start to stream down my face.

"Give me one more," Oscar grunts out while taking my hair into his fist and pulling me up so my back is flush with his chest while he continues to fuck into my overworked pussy.

"Oscar," I cry out as the tears continues to stream down my face while his thrusts don't slow down into he slightest.

"Come on, one more," Oscar teases trying to coax me through my finale orgasm.

When Oscar pulls my hair even tighter exposing my neck even more he sinks his teeth into my shoulder while freeing his hand from my hair and bringing it to my throat giving it a squeeze.

"Fuck," I gasp through my cries while falling over the edge while Oscar continues to softly choke me. I can feel the waves of my orgasm only intensify as Oscar slowly chokes me harder with each passing second.

"Good girl," Oscar grunts while quickly pulling his cock from my pussy and pulling me by my hair to get on my knees where Oscar quickly pulls the condom off and shoves his dick into my mouth.

"Fuck," Oscar grunts as he slowly starts fucking my face allowing me to adjust to his size before he starts to pick up the pace making me gag around his length.

"Take me so good," Oscar grunts when his hips start to falter in pace slightly letting me know he was getting close to finishing.

"Fuck," Oscar grunts out before shoving his cock deep into my throat and starting to cum filling my mouth with his cum before pulling out and jerking the rest of his load all over my face.

I quickly swallow the cum he left in my mouth before opening my mouth and sticking out my tongue to allow Oscar to finish painting my face while trying to catch some of the load with my tongue.

"Fuck, such a good whore," Oscar grunts while one final rope lands on my tongue.

Oscar takes roughly 10 seconds to gather himself before he's pulling me off my knees and into his arms where he takes us into his hotel bathroom and placing me back on the counter.

"Did so good for me," Oscar says while taking a clean rag and getting it wet with warm water while slowly starting to wipe his excess cum off my face.

I allow Oscar to continue to softly wipe my face in silence before I finally lean down and pull him in for a soft kiss.

"Was that a good way to celebrate?" I ask softly with a small smile playing on my lips when I pull away from the kiss.

"The best way," Oscar tells me softly before pulling me back in for another kiss.

When Oscar pulls away from the kiss he turns his attention to the shower where he turns it on letting it warm up.

When the steam has finally filled the bathroom from the hot shower Oscar pulls me back into his arms and brings the both of us into the shower where I instantly relax into his arms letting the hot water relax my sore muscles.

"Was I too rough?" Oscar asks softly making me lift my head from his shoulder and look him in the eye.

"No, and you better not tell anyone but I think you just fucked me better than anyone else ever has," I admit with a smile tugging on my lips.

"That's bragging rights! I don't think I can keep that a secret," Oscar teases but I can still tell he's worried.

"I mean it Oscar! It was perfect, and there's a safe word if it really was too much," I tell him with softly running my fingers through his wet hair.

I can see him relaxing into my touch which makes me smile.

"Sorry if I left any visible marks," Oscar says sheepishly when he notices a few of the hickeys he's left behind.

"For a maiden win, there's no rules," I saw with a smile and a shrug. It takes Oscar roughly 10 seconds to realize no rules means he could fuck me with no protection.

"Fuck, you would let me?" Oscar asks looking me directly in the eye.

"I'm clean, and up to date on my birth control. I think it's safe to assume you're also clean," I say softly getting nervous at the idea I was pitching.

"Hey, if you don't want to we don't have to. Don't feel pressured," Oscar says when he starts to pick up on my energy shift.

"No, I do! I guess I just didn't know how you would feel," I admit softly making Oscar smile down at me.

"I would love to fill that pussy of yours up with my cum," Oscar says with a smirk making me smile and pull him down for a kiss.

I was expecting Oscar to become rough once again but this time he slowly pulls one of my legs ups to wrap around his waist while I feel him softly teasing my still soaked folds with his hard cock.

I whimper into the kiss when I feel him start to push into my still sore pussy.

"Can you go one more?" Oscar asks softly making me whimper and nod my head.

"Words," Oscar tells me sternly making me look him in the eye and verbally confirm that I wanted him to fuck me.

"Fuck," Oscar groans when he continues to push the rest of his length deep into my pussy making me whimper at the stretch.

"Oscar!" I moan out as he starts to slowly thrust his cock in and out of my sensitive pussy.

"Take me so well," Oscar groans as he slowly starts to speed up his thrusts making sure to hit my G-spot with each thrust.

"Feels so good," I gasp throwing my head back exposing my neck enough for Oscar to drop his mouth and start leaving small scattered kisses all alone my neck.

"I'm not gonna last," Oscar gasps speeding up his hips even more clearly chasing the same release I was chasing.

"I'm close," I whine while bringing my hand between our bodies and lightly teasing my clit while Oscar continues to fuck into me bringing both of us closer to cumming.

"Cum for me," Oscar groans softly making me fall over the edge and pulling him with me.

"Oh shit!" Oscar grunts while still pumping his hips into my pussy. During the waves of my orgasm I can feel Oscar's cum being pumped into my pussy making me whimper.

"So good," I whine out starting to come down from my high once again.

"Did so good," Oscar mumbles while softly pulling out and letting my leg rest of the ground so I can now stand on my own.

"So good for me," Oscar continues to mumble while starting to clean me up.

It was clear that no matter how rough or gentle Oscar fucked he would always spend the next several minutes praising and cleaning up. I couldn't help but blush under his praise and when we were finally cleaned up and helped me dress into one of his shirts before getting the both of us comfortable in his bed.

Media Day Mayhem

Charles Leclerc x Wife!Reader

Summary... What should’ve been a simple twenty-minute press conference turns into full-blown chaos when Charles brings the kids along—and then the kids get their own turn behind the mic.

Warnings: Pure fluff, kid chaos, dad!Charles, teasing, swearing mentioned by children (in French), banter, major secondhand embarrassment

A/N: you guys... the way I had too much fun writing this! I hope you guys enjoy this little story. I would love to actually see a moment like this in the future maybe. That would be iconic. I hope you guys enjoy it. Please let me know what you guys wanna see next!!

If you loved this story and want to support more F1 fics and soft chaos like this, feel free to buy me a matcha 🍵 or reblog/comment to share the love!

As always—happy reading, and have a beautiful day today

Like, comment, reblog, enjoy :)

✩ ⋆ ✩ ⋆ ✩ ⋆ ✩

The press conference was supposed to last twenty minutes. Just a few pre-weekend questions before FP1, some sponsor shoutouts, and a bit of media fluff. Charles had done this a hundred times. Easy.

What he hadn’t done a hundred times was a press conference with all three of his children clinging to him like magnets to a fridge.

“Mila, baby, don’t twist that,” Charles says quietly into his mic, gently removing his daughter’s hand from the cord running down his chest. She’s seated sideways on his lap, twirling the cable like it’s spaghetti. His twin boys, Luca and Jules, are squished on either side of him on the small bench Ferrari provided — all three with messy chestnut curls identical to their father’s.

“Charles, you’ve had a strong start to the season. What would you attribute that to?” a reporter asks.

Charles smiles, glancing down quickly at Luca, who’s trying to sneakily remove one of his shoes.

“Uh—consistency, for sure. And a lot of work with the team during the off-season,” he answers, his voice smooth despite the circus unfolding around him.

“I want to talk!” Jules blurts out, grabbing at the microphone in front of his dad. “I’m fast too!”

“You are very fast,” Charles replies automatically, pressing a quick kiss to his son’s temple as reporters chuckle.

“I beat Mila in the hallway!” Jules announces proudly.

“You cheated!” Mila screeches.

Charles coughs to cover his laugh. “Okay, okay, let’s not yell, we are live on camera, darlings.”

Another journalist attempts to move things along. “Charles, what’s your mindset going into qualifying tomorrow?”

Before he can answer, Luca pipes up: “Papa said the car was ‘a pain in the—’”

Charles snaps his fingers in front of him. “Luca! What did we say about telling secrets?”

Jules leans toward the mic. “Mummy says we can’t say ‘merde’ either.”

Charles hides his face with his hand for a beat as the media room loses it with laughter.

From the wings, you — Y/N — shake your head, arms crossed but clearly amused. Charles glances over at you like please come rescue me, but you're already motioning for the boys to come to you.

“Alright, boys, go with Maman,” Charles says, ushering them off the bench.

“Can we get snacks now?” Mila asks, hopping down and walking backwards toward you.

“Only if you stop tattletelling,” Charles replies sternly.

Jules makes a face as you crouch and hold their hands on either side of you, whispering something that makes them all go quiet and pouty at the same time.

Charles watches for a second longer than he means to—how you always manage to calm them down like magic—before turning back to the mic.

“Apologies. Where were we?”

“Honestly?” one of the reporters grins. “This is better than Drive to Survive.”

Charles laughs. “Welcome to my real full-time job.”

As he tries to finish the final question, he feels a small tug at his pants. Mila has snuck back on stage with her stuffed bunny.

“I forgot Bun-Bun,” she whispers.

He grabs it quickly and hands it to her with a gentle ruffle to her hair. “Okay, allez, go sit with Maman now.”

She nods seriously, then skips off.

Charles clears his throat. “Anyway—thank you all. I think I’m going to go find a quiet corner to cry in now.”

The media room erupts into chuckles again as Charles walks off, applesauce pouch tucked in one hand, baby wipes in the other, and you waiting with a knowing smirk and two giggling little boys tugging at your sleeves.

Charles barely made it three meters off the stage before Mila tugged on his sleeve and declared, “It’s our turn now.” He blinked, confused, until he spotted the row of miniature chairs being set up at the front of the room—and the Ferrari PR team, looking far too pleased with themselves as they waved the kids forward like VIP guests. Jules had already climbed onto one of the seats, Luca was dragging a juice box across the floor like it was part of his media kit, and Mila marched toward the microphone like she’d been waiting her whole life for this moment. Charles stared for a beat, caught between horror and awe.

This was not on the schedule, he thought, eyes narrowing. Whose idea was this? Did Y/N sign off on this? Is this revenge for the broken espresso machine?

He looked toward you for backup, but you were already leaning against the wall, arms crossed and smirking like you’d known this was coming all along. When you caught his eye, you shrugged playfully and whispered, “You survived your press conference. Good luck surviving theirs.”

Charles let out a breath, resigned, and folded his arms across his chest. “Mon Dieu,” he muttered under his breath, watching his children take the stage with terrifying confidence.

Ferrari may build the fastest cars in the world, but nothing moves quicker than my own kids when there’s a microphone involved.

The Ferrari media tent is buzzing with cameras, press badges, and a surprising amount of juice boxes.

——

A journalist clears their throat. “Alright… first question for Mila. What’s it like having a Formula One driver as a papa?”

Mila: “Loud.” Jules: “Fast.” Luca: “Sweaty.”

Everyone bursts into laughter. Mila shrugs. “He yells a lot on the radio. I don’t think he knows we can hear it sometimes.”

Charles covers his face with both hands.

Another reporter tries to keep a straight face. “Jules, if you were in charge of Ferrari, what would you change first?”

Jules (serious): “Make the cars green.”

Luca: “And add rocket launchers!”

Charles chokes.

Mila (disapproving): “That’s not safe. I’d make the suits pink and add glitter so they sparkle on TV.”

Reporter: “What do you think Papa says the most on race day?”

Jules: “Merde.”

Mila: “No! He says ‘focus.’ And ‘where’s my drink?’” Luca: “And ‘WHY ARE THE TYRES GONE?!’”

The room is losing it. Charles is whispering something to Y/N, who is fully crying from laughter.

A hand goes up from a British reporter. “Luca, if you won a race, what would be the first thing you'd do?”

Luca (without hesitation): “Call my mumma.”

Everyone collectively awws—until he adds:

Luca: “And then eat a chocolate croissant the size of my head.”

Mila (muttering): “That already happened.”

Reporter: “Jules, do you like watching the races?”

Jules: “Only the start. Then I get bored and play Hot Wheels.”

Mila: “I watch the whole thing. I have a clipboard and give Papa scores.”

Luca: “She gave him a 6 last time and he almost won.”

Mila: “He messed up the overtake.”

Charles looks wounded.

Final question from a German journalist: “Mila, what advice would you give your Papa before his next race?”

Mila leans into the mic like a pro.

Mila: “Be brave. Go fast. And don’t cuss if the tires fall off.”

Everyone in the room breaks into applause as Charles walks forward, scooping Luca into his arms while Mila and Jules are immediately surrounded by press taking photos and asking for high fives.

Y/N slips a hand into Charles’, her smile wide. “They handled that better than you did.”

Charles grins, eyes still on his little trio. “They’re natural born media drivers.”

——

Back at the hotel that evening, Charles was flat on his back on the couch, eyes closed, two juice box wrappers on his chest. You were sitting cross-legged beside him, flicking through the photos already going viral online—Mila adjusting her mic like a pro, Jules midair off the chair, Luca holding up fingers like he was flashing a gang sign.

“Next time,” Charles murmured, eyes still shut, “we tell them I only have one child. Maybe two, max.”

You smiled, brushing curls from his forehead. “Sure, baby. But admit it… they kind of stole the show.”

He cracked an eye open, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’m not even mad.”

✩ ⋆ ✩ ⋆ ✩ ⋆ ✩

look me in the eye | pt.3

pairing: max verstappen x rbr!engineer!reader

summary: the rb21 is unfixable-the whole world knows that, now-but you've become so much more than just his engineer and they should know that too.

a/n: i just...max verstappen...and thank you guys sm for the love you've shown this series! here is the last part <3

part one / part two / part three

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

The moment you step out of the storage room-you figured that out when Max shoved you against a nice metal rack and some probably important things crashed to the ground-reality crashes down on you like a tidal wave.

You just kissed Max Verstappen.

Max Verstappen just kissed you.

You don't know how it can get worse, but it will. He looks completely at ease, like he didn't just change the trajectory of your entire life in the span of a few heated seconds. Meanwhile, you feel like you're about to combust. Your lips are still tingling, your mind racing, and you’re suddenly hyperaware of the noise outside: the team is still celebrating, the media is still circling, and maybe you're being a little dramatic but people will want answers that you can't give.

Max notices your panic before you can even say anything. He leans in slightly, lowering his voice. "Breathe."

You shoot him a glare that lacks any real venom. "Don't tell me what to do."

His lips twitch. "Then don't look like you’re about to pass out." Which is ironic, because if he hadn't kissed you senseless, you probably wouldn't look like...whatever you look like right now. You need a mirror. Your hair is all messed up from the frenzy-his is too, though it suits his post-race look-and you straighten the collar of your shirt.

Damn you. You shove past him, desperate for space, for air, for something that isn't Max Verstappen and his infuriating ability to act like everything is fine. Your body betrays you, though, because even as you move, you feel his warmth lingering, his presence like a gravitational pull you can’t escape.

And then, as if the universe is determined to make your life a nightmare, Christian Horner appears. The devil himself.

You barely manage to school your expression into something neutral as he approaches, eyes sharp, mouth set in a line that promises nothing good.

"Max." He nods at Red Bull's star driver before turning to you. "We need to talk."

Max doesn't move. "She's busy," he quips.

You whip your head toward him, eyes wide. "Max."

Christian doesn't look amused. "Now."

You sigh, throwing Max one last look before following Christian into one of the back offices. The second the door closes, he lets out a heavy breath and pinches the bridge of his nose like he's trying to will away a migraine.

"You know why we're here."

You cross your arms, steeling yourself. "If this is about that stupid interview-"

"Stupid?" Christian cuts you off and his eyes narrow quickly. "Do you have any idea what you just walked into? The media is losing it. The fans are in a frenzy. And now I have PR breathing down my neck asking if Max Verstappen is in a relationship with one of his engineers."

This isn't good. No, not at all. Today is not a good day to have Christian Horner mad at you. "It's not-"

"It doesn't matter what it is," Christian interrupts. "Believe me. The only thing I care about is what it looks like."

You don't have an argument for that. Because he's right. Perception is everything in this sport, and right now, the perception is that you are tangled up in something that no team principal wants to deal with.

Christian sighs and it's like all his fury is evaporating. "Look. I really don't care what you do in your personal life. I don't even care what Max does, as long as he keeps winning. But I need to know if this is going to be a problem."

You hesitate. "Define 'a problem.'"

Christian levels you with a look. "Are you going to be a distraction? To him? To yourself?"

Your mind flashes back to the kiss, to the way Max looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered in that moment. Your heart stutters.

"No," you say, more firmly than you feel. "This doesn't affect my work."

Christian watches you for a long moment, then nods. "Good. Then handle it."

You swallow. "Handle it?"

"Either shut it down or control the narrative," he says. "But I don't want any more surprises."

You nod, even though you don't know what exactly you're affirming with that nod. The problem is, you don't know if you can shut it down. You don't know if you even want to.

When you leave the office, Max is leaning against the wall, waiting. Of course he is.

He leaps up when he sees you. "What did he say?"

"That I need to handle it," you explain.

Max’s expression doesn’t change. "And are you going to?

"I don’t know."

There it is again. You can't read Max Verstappen. He asks, "Do you want me to?"

All your problems come from the same thing-you should say yes, no, whatever it takes to shut down all this that's happening. You should make him go on some press circuit and laugh it off as a misunderstanding, to make sure your name isn't attached to his ever again. You should be walking away from this mess because it's not part of your job description and getting involved with an athlete never seems to end well. Even if it's Max Verstappen.

But you don't.

You never do, it seems.

Instead, you look at him: the way his jaw is clenched, the way his fingers twitch like he wants to reach for you but won't unless you let him, and you keep making the same choice.

"I think," you say carefully, "we should talk."

Max’s lips curve slightly. "Dinner?"

You groan, shoving his shoulder. "Not helping."

His laugh is soft, but there's something else in his eyes now. Something serious. "Then let’s talk."

It's been a long time coming, but right there, you realize you're past the point of no return.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

The ride back to the hotel is suffocating. Not the air-no, the air-conditioning in Max's car is great, thankfully, because it sure cost a lot-but because Max is sitting next to you, silent, his fingers drumming against his thigh so close to you if he shifts just a little his hands will be on yours. You push that thought aside. Now's not a good time to get worked up over him. Not now.

You should say something. You should clear the air. But every time you open your mouth, nothing comes out. Instead, you replay everything in your head: the kiss, the way he looked at you after, Christian's warning, and the way Max had asked if you wanted him to handle it. Like it was his responsibility. Like he was willing to do whatever you asked, even if it meant pretending none of this ever happened.

The thought unsettles you more than it should.

"You're thinking too much."

You blink, snapping out of your spiral. Max is watching you instead of the road. Stupid, stupid.

You roll your eyes. "And you’re not thinking at all."

He smirks, eyes darting back forward for a moment before they rest on your face. "That’s not true. I'm thinking about dinner."

"Max, this isn't a joke." You let out a frustrated sigh, turning to face him.

"I know." He's suddenly serious, his voice quieter. "That's why we should talk. Properly. Without Christian breathing down your neck."

You hesitate. You know he's right. You can't keep avoiding this, can't pretend that what happened in the storage room didn't just flip your world upside down. But you also don't know how to have this conversation without risking everything.

Max waits patiently, letting you come to your own conclusion. He always does that. He gives you space, but never too much. Always just enough to make sure you don’t run.

"Fine," you mutter. "But not dinner. We saw how that went."

He raises a brow. "Drinks?"

"No."

"A walk, then."

You sigh, but you don't argue. You suppose a walk is neutral territory. You can talk without the pressure of sitting across from him at a table, without the weight of eye contact that lasts too long.

When you arrive at the hotel, you don't give yourself time to hesitate. You step out, waiting for him, and he follows without question after tossing his keys at the valet. There's a cool breeze, and you focus on that instead of the way your fingers still tingle from where they brushed against Max's earlier.

You walk side by side, the silence stretching, but it isn't uncomfortable. It never is. That’s part of the problem, isn't it? It's always been too easy with him.

"I meant what I said," Max finally says. "I don't want this to be a problem for you."

"It's not that simple, Max."

"It could be."

You huff out a short laugh. "For you, maybe."

He stops walking, and you do too, turning to face him. There's something in his expression that makes your breath catch.

"I like you," he says, and your heart stutters. "And I think you like me too."

You swallow hard. "Max-"

"I know it's complicated. I know Christian is watching us like a hawk. I know you're worried about your job, your reputation." His voice is steady, unwavering. "But I'm not going to pretend this isn't happening just because it's inconvenient."

Your mouth feels dry. It does sound simple when he's saying it.

"Tell me to stop. Tell me this is nothing, and I'll walk away."

You hate him for that. Hate him for putting the choice in your hands, for making you responsible for whatever happens next.

But you don't tell him to stop. You don't say anything at all. You look at him clearly: this man you've watched grow up from a boy. You've seen him destroy things in fits of rage after bad races, you've seen him beam like the sun, and you've seen the way his eyes turn stormy oceans when they look at you. He sees you too.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

bahrain 2025 post-race interview

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

y/n 🌎 gee, max, you're going to get to my ego

y/n 🌎 first "my everything," then "the constant"

y/n 🌎 and what's that about always? i don't believe that.

my mashed potato Are you referring to us or you being the constant? Because I don't believe in that either, but you have me as long as you want

y/n 🌎 are you SERIOUSLY CHECKING YOUR PHONE DURING AN INTERVIEW

y/n 🌎 sorry for all caps i just like it a lot when you get all romantic

my mashed potato i know ❤️

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

a/n: max verstappen and 3-post series are very special to me

I would marry you with paper rings

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Colette Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary: 

May 2016

How Max Verstappen wins his first f1 race and goes home to show his girlfriend his trophy…and maybe something else too...

December 2024: 

Max brings his family home from the hospital and finally gets to give his fiancée a proper ring. 

Author Notes: Huge thanks to @llirawolf for holding my hand through this!

May 2016: 

The roar of the crowd was deafening, but Max Verstappen barely noticed. His ears were ringing, his chest felt tight, and his grip on the steering wheel had turned his knuckles white. He barely registered the voice of his race engineer crackling through his headset.

“Unbelievable. Unbelievable, Max.” 

The words didn’t feel real. 

“You are a race winner!”

It felt like they belonged to someone else’s story, someone older, more experienced—someone who wasn’t an 18-year-old kid still trying to figure out the enormity of it all. He blinked hard, trying to process the magnitude of what just happened.

The pit wall erupted in cheers as he drove toward the podium, his hands trembling on the wheel. It wasn’t just any win—it was the win. At 18 years and 227 days old, Max Verstappen had become the youngest race winner in Formula 1 history.

He had done it. 

As the team crowded around him in parc fermé, he couldn’t stop the grin spreading across his face. Christian Horner was there to hug him, Helmut Marko clapped him on the back, and Daniel Ricciardo tousled his sweat-soaked hair. The cameras flashed relentlessly, capturing every angle of his historic moment.

And still…the most important person was not there. 

Colette was back in Monaco. 

Hours later, once he finally got to his phone…after he was back in his hotel room, there was a message from her waiting for him. Of course, there was. 

I am so proud of you, Maxie. Soak up every moment, enjoy it. You deserve this, so, so much. We’ll celebrate when you are back home, mon coeur. You were amazing out there today and I love you so much. 

Somehow these 5 sentences meant more to him than any other accolade ever could. 

He stared at the trophy perched on his nightstand. The weight of it—both physical and symbolic—was overwhelming.

He’d spent years working for this moment. His entire life had been shaped around the pursuit of success, of proving he belonged on the top step of the podium. But now that he’d done it? He would give anything to share this moment with the girl he loved. 

Colette had been his constant long before Formula 1 entered the picture. She’d seen him at his worst, supported him when no one else believed in him, and always reminded him of who he was outside the car. 

She was his staunchest supporter and the first person that woul dcall hi out for being an idiot. 

She grounded him, cosetted him, cared for him, cheered for every win and held him after every failure. 

She was the one thing in his life that he could trust unconditionally…that loved him for who he was and not what he could do. 

Of course he had driven this car to victory. And Colettte would never take credit for any of his wins…but Max knew the truth. 

This win wasn’t just his—it was theirs.

The idea hit him in the early hours of the morning, somewhere between the adrenaline still coursing through his veins and the exhaustion pulling at his eyelids.

He needed to show her how much she meant to him, how much he wanted her to be part of this journey—not just as a girlfriend, but as his partner in everything that came next.

But how do you capture something so big?

By 7 a.m., Max was wandering the quiet streets of Barcelona. The city felt different in the early morning light—calm, peaceful. He had no real plan, just an address for a small jewellery store he’d googled hours before.

His Spanish wasn’t great, but he figured he could manage. He needed something. Something to show her just how much she meant to him.

He had bought his sister a handbag the first time he had scored points in F1…but handbag didn’t even come close to being enough for Colette. 

So there he was…in that jewelery store. 

The bell above the door jingled as he stepped inside, and a man behind the counter greeted him warmly, raising an eyebrow at the young man who looked like he hadn’t slept.

“You’re here for something important, aren’t you?” the man asked knowingly, his accent thick but his tone kind.

Max hesitated, glancing down at the glass cases filled with glittering jewellery. He’d never done anything like this before. He had never even bought Colette a pair of earrings on his own. He had bought her other stuff, of course he had. Birthday gifts and stuff for christmas but… “Yeah, uh... I need something… special. For my girlfriend.”

The man smiled knowingly and pulled out a tray of rings. “Something like this?” he asked, gesturing to a selection of delicate designs.

Max’s eyes landed on a gold band with a small, heart-shaped diamond. It wasn’t flashy or oversized—it was understated, elegant, and perfect.

Just like Colette. 

***

Hours later… Max was back in Monaco. 

The trophy tucked under his arm, bag thrown over his shoulder as he unlocked the door to their apartment. 

He wasn’t sure if Colette was already home from work…he hadn’t called ahead telling her either. 

“Max?” and there she was, already dressed in her pyjamas as she stared at him wide-eyed, coming out of the kitchen. 

“I won,” he blurted, grinning like a kid showing off a school project. 

THat was all he needed to say, before she was throwing herself in his arms. His bag hit the floor, as he hugged her and she kissed him, cupping his cheek, rapid fire french that he would never learn to understand as quickly as she spoke it, intermixed with english and her horribly accented dutch. 

And for just a moment Max got to hold his girlfriend…the best trophy he had ever won. 

“I am so proud of you, mon coeur,” Colette whispered and he leaned his forehead against hers, her words a balm to something that he didn’t even know. 

“I brought you something.”

Before she could say anything, he plopped the Pirelli cap on her head, by now dry, though it had been drenched in champagne by Kimi and Seb and he adjusted it until it sat crookedly over her brown curls. “There. Perfect,” he said, his voice raw. 

Perfect. 

Colette laughed, patting it down, and then pulled him into another kiss. “I am so proud. You were incredible this weekend,” she told him fiercely. “Shouldn’t you still be celebrating?” she teased him. 

“I am,” he said, his voice softening. “With you.”

Any celebration with her was better than any other. 

“You want to see the trophy?” he asked her, feeling like a little boy that dragged his karting trophy to Colette for her approval again. 

And just like she had suffered through every time of 12 year old Max showing his trophy off to her…18 year old Max did the same, handing it to her. 

She took it, a metal on metal clink rattling around the inside. 

“What’s...?” she started, tilting the trophy to look inside. Her breath caught, as she fished out the ring from the bottom of it. “Max...”

“It’s not an engagement ring,” he rushed to explain, his cheeks turning pink. “I mean, our fathers would probably kill us both if we got married right now. But it’s... it’s a promise.”

Colette carefully set the trophy down, her hands trembling as stared at the delicate gold ring in the palm of her hand. 

“I wanted you to know that it’s always going to be us,” Max said, his voice steady despite the nervous flutter in his chest. “Through everything. You and me. This is my promise to you.”

It was always going to be them. Always. 

“I don’t need a fancy piece of paper to tell me what I already know,” Max said softly. “I love you. And I’ll spend the rest of my life with you. In Sickness and In Health and however that whole thing goes.” 

Tears filled her eyes as she looked up at him, her lips trembling with a smile. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

He grinned. “Yeah, but you love me anyway.” 

Colette just looked at him, brown eyes warm and loving…and filled with tears. 

“I do. God, I do,” she promised him fiercely. “Go on then. Put it on me,” she teased him. 

His fingers were trembling when he picked up the ring and slid it on her finger. A perfect fit. Like he had somehow known. 

“This is going to be hard to top one day, you know,” Colette told him, wiggling her fingers, the diamond sparkling on her hand. “You do have exceptional taste in rings.”

Max chuckled, pulling her into a hug. “Challenge accepted.”

December 2024: 

The late December air was crisp as Max carefully carried the baby carrier through the front door of their apartment, his movements uncharacteristically slow. He was used to the precision of controlling a 200-mile-per-hour machine, but carrying his newborn daughter… was an entirely different level of responsibility.

Colette watched the whole thing with some amusement and a whole lot of love. Max had already driven so slowly home from the hospital that there had been multiple blaring car horns behind them, but Max hadn’t cared one bit about that. 

She was tired, her body aching from the delivery, but her heart was so full it threatened to burst.

“Welcome home, ma lutine,” she murmured softly, brushing her fingers over the baby’s tiny hand, as Max set the carrier down on the living room floor. 

Max crouched to unbuckle their daughter, who was snoozing peacefully despite the excitement of the day. “I think she’s already a Verstappen,” he said with a chuckle, glancing up at Colette. “Sleeps through the chaos, just like her dad.”

Colette laughed lightly, shaking her head. “We’ll see how long that lasts,” she teased him. “You gonna get the cats?” she asked.

Max nodded, moving towards the bedroom where he had put them just minutes before. 

Colette heard the door open and seconds later, she could feel two sets of feline eyes were already watching from the bedroom doorway —Jimmy, usually, the more laid back boy…and Sassy, the fierce girl with a name that fit her personality far too well.

“Okay, guys,” Colette murmured. “Be nice. She’s your baby sister now.”

Max crossed back over to them, crouching down beside the seat, unbuckling Charlie with ease, his movements careful and deliberate. “You think they’ll be jealous?” he asked, casting a quick glance at Jimmy and Sassy, who hadn’t moved but were clearly observing every detail.

“They’ll get over it,” Colette said with a soft laugh. “I think Sassy’s already plotting her strategy.”

Sure enough, as soon as Colette lifted Charlie into her arms, Sassy bounded down the stairs, tail high and ears forward. She paused a few feet away, her nose twitching as she sniffed the air. 

“Hi, Sassy,” Colette cooed, kneeling down to let the curious cat get a closer look. Sassy tiptoed forward, her tiny paws making no sound on the marble floor. She stopped just short of Colette’s knees and craned her neck, sniffing cautiously at the bundle in her arms.

Charlie let out a soft coo, her tiny fist waving in the air, and Sassy’s ears twitched forward in fascination. Then, in a move that made Colette’s heart melt, Sassy stretched up on her hind legs and gently tapped at the edge of the baby blanket, as if to say, What’s this?

“See? She’s already making friends,” Colette said, grinning as she stroked Sassy’s head.

Max, meanwhile, was coaxing Jimmy towards them. The cat was watching the scene with a skeptical look, his yellow eyes narrowed. “Come on, mate,” Max said, holding out his hand. “She’s not going to steal your spot. I promise.”

Jimmy hesitated for a moment before coming the last few steps. Unlike Sassy, who had no sense of personal space, Jimmy kept his distance at first, circling wide around Colette and Charlie as if evaluating whether this tiny human posed a threat to his kingdom.

“Jimmy, it’s okay,” Colette encouraged, holding out her hand toward him. “Come say hi.”

Eventually, Jimmy padded closer, his movements slow and deliberate. When he finally reached Colette, he sat down primly and stared up at Charlie, his expression one of cautious curiosity.

“She’s not so bad, right?” Max said, crouching down beside Jimmy and scratching behind his ears.

Charlie let out another soft noise, and Jimmy’s head tilted slightly, his ears swiveling to catch the sound. Then, to everyone’s surprise, he leaned forward and gave the edge of the baby blanket a tentative sniff, followed by a single, gentle nudge of his nose.

“Oh, Jimmy,” Colette said, her voice thick with emotion. “You’re such a good boy.”

Max laughed, the sound warm and full of love. “I think they’ve decided she can stay,” he said, wrapping an arm around Colette’s shoulders.

Later that evening, after Charlie had been fed and settled into the bassinet they’d placed in the living room, Colette found herself staring at the collection of trophies they kept on the shelves over the TV. Max’s career was neatly cataloged there— All the important wins, each moment of triumph immortalized in gleaming metal and glass.

Charlie stirred softly in her arms, and Colette pressed a kiss to the baby’s forehead before stepping closer to the shelves. “Do you see all these trophies, Charlie?” she whispered, swaying gently. “See? these are all Papa‘s,“ Colette cooed. “He has more. These are just the ones that are the most important to him. Your tonton Cha has some too…”

Her eyes slid over the championship trophy from last year…over to the very first one. It was a little scuffed from being handled so many times, but it still gleamed in the soft light of the room. “And this one…this one is extra special. This is from when Papa won his very first race. And do you know what else?” She smiled, her voice dropping conspiratorially. “This is where he hid a ring for me eight years ago.”

She glanced back at her daughter, but Charlie had already drifted back into her newborn sleep, oblivious to her mother’s musings. 

“You didn’t check, did you?” Max’s voice broke the quiet, startling her.

She turned to find him leaning casually in the doorway, his arms crossed and a knowing smirk on his face. He was still wearing the same hoodie and sweats he’d changed into after coming home from the hospital, but somehow, he looked effortlessly handsome.

“Check what?” she asked, feigning innocence.

“The trophy,” he said, nodding toward the one in her hand. “I’ve seen the way you’ve been eyeing it ever since we came home.”

Colette raised an eyebrow. “You tell a girl you hid her engagement ring in there, what did you expect, Verstappen,” she teased him. 

“You are right,” Max agreed seriously, with a nod, plucking Charlie from her arms to put her in the Moses Basket they had put next to the couch.

And then he plucked that trophy from the shelve, only to upend it until a velvet box came tumbling down. 

Colette’s breath caught as he flipped it open to reveal a stunning ring—a delicate gold band, not unlike the one he’d given her all those years ago, but this time, the diamond was much larger, more brilliant. It sparkled in the light, catching every angle perfectly.

Her free hand flew to her mouth as her eyes welled up with tears. “Max…”

“Shush. Let me do this right,” he teased her, as he got down on one knee. “I had this for months,” he told her. “I thought about giving it to you after the Monaco Grand Prix, then after the championship celebration, but none of those moments felt right. This—bringing Charlie home—this feels right.”

Colette could only nod, too overcome with emotion to speak.

“I know we’ve been doing things our own way,” he said with a small smile. “And I wouldn’t change a single thing. But this... this is my way of saying I’m all in, for the rest of my life. With you. With Charlie. With everything that comes next.”

Tears spilled down her cheeks as she finally found her voice. “You didn’t have to do this. You already gave me everything I ever wanted.”

“And now I’m giving you a little bit more,” he said seriously. “So. Colette Marie Eugénie Veronique Leclerc, will you do me the incredible honour of becoming my wife?”

“Yes,” she whispered. Max reached for her left hand, his fingers brushing over hers as he carefully slipped the ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly, just as she knew it would.

“You even got the order of my names right,” she teased him, as he stood up and he snorted as he pulled her into a hug. 

“Hush,” he gave back, pressing a kiss to her temple. 

They stood there for a moment, wrapped in each other’s arms, the trophy forgotten on the shelf and the ring gleaming on her finger.

In the bassinet, Charlie let out a tiny squeak, and they both turned to look at her, their smiles growing.

“She approves,” Colette said with a laugh.

Max chuckled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Of course she does. She’s a Verstappen.”

As they sat down together, Colette resting her head against Max’s shoulder, they couldn’t help but marvel at the life they’d built. 

It had been a long journey to get here, but every step had been worth it.

A TALE OF FAME

pairing ꪆৎ charles leclerc x ahaana patel ᥫ᭡. f1 driver x bollywood actress au

chapter ꪆৎ 1

summary ꪆৎ she's everything, and he just drives.

note ꪆৎ no hate to any characters used in the story, none of what i write reflects on how they actually are. all my love, happy reading.

prev

────୨ৎ────

Ahaana Patel was an enigma wrapped in stardom. She’d emerged onto the Bollywood scene with a debut that was nothing short of explosive, pro shaking up the industry and catapulting herself into the hearts of millions. She featured in a movie of one of the most celebrated Indian directors, Karan Johar, alongside her costars Varun Dhawan and Sidharth Malhotra, and hasn't looked back since. It was a journey no one, least of all her academically fixated parents in Ahmedabad, could have foreseen. From their meticulously structured plans of engineering degrees and Ivy League aspirations to the glitzy chaos of movie premieres and magazine covers, her story was the epitome of unpredictability.

Now, twelve years later, Ahaana strode confidently through the paddock of the Chinese Formula One Grand Prix. Her steps were light, but her presence was impossible to ignore. The roar of engines, the sharp tang of gasoline, and the relentless buzz of the crowd enveloped her in a world she had come to know well over the years.

Dressed in attire that matched the casual coolness of the paddock air, a fitted white top and denim skirt. Her hair, perfectly styled despite the chaos of travel, swayed gently as she moved, her signature smile lighting up the faces of everyone she passed.

The first race of the 2024 season was underway, and the paddock was a symphony of excitement. Engineers tinkered with machines that cost more than most people earned in a lifetime, journalists scrambled for the perfect soundbite, and VIP guests mingled in their designer ensembles, trying to look like they belonged. Ahaana, however, didn’t need to try—she was a natural here.

“Ahi!”

The familiar Dutch accent cut through the cacophony, and Ahaana turned, her eyes narrowing playfully as Max Verstappen approached. Helmet in hand, the reigning world champion exuded confidence. His movements were deliberate, his gaze sharp, but the moment he saw Ahaana, his expression softened ever so slightly.

“Max,” she greeted, her voice laced with mock seriousness. “Are you ready to win, or should I start drafting my consolation speech now?”

Max rolled his eyes, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Your faith in me is touching. Truly inspiring. Maybe you should stick to Bollywood instead of doubting world champions.”

“And miss this circus?” Ahaana gestured grandly at the bustling paddock around them. “Not a chance.”

Their bond was one of playful banter and unspoken trust, forged in the early days of her association with Red Bull. At first, their interactions had been fraught with the awkwardness of two young professionals forced into photoshoots and promotional events. But as time passed, they found common ground in their shared struggles—both carried the weight of their fathers’ expectations and both were determined to carve their own paths. What began as reluctant camaraderie soon blossomed into a sibling-like relationship. Max truly saw Ahaana as a little sister, and always would.

“Where’s Kelly?” Ahaana asked, scanning the crowd for Max’s girlfriend.

“She’s around,” Max replied, shrugging. “Probably hunting you down.”

As if on cue, Kelly Piquet appeared, her presence as radiant as ever. Spotting Ahaana, she broke into a wide grin and pulled her into a warm hug. “Ahaana! I didn’t know you were coming today. Otherwise, I’d have brought P—she misses you.”

Ahaana beamed. “I miss her too. We’re calling her as soon as these boys start driving their toy cars.”

“Toy cars?” Max echoed, feigning offense.

Before Ahaana could retort, another familiar voice joined the fray.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Red Bull’s golden girl.”

Ahaana turned to see Lando Norris, the ever-charming McLaren driver, strolling toward them. His grin was as cheeky as ever, his orange, oh sorry papaya, jacket standing out starkly against the sea of Red Bull merch.

“Lando,” Ahaana greeted with mock disdain. “Lost your way from all the oranges. Here let me show you, its that garage with a mark that looks like a disfigured comma.”

“It’s papaya and you know it. You’re obsessed with me , aren’t you?” Lando shot back, slinging an arm around her shoulders. “Admit it—you came all the way here just to see me.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Ahaana replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Couldn’t resist the charm of McLaren’s poster boy.”

Max chuckled, shaking his head. “I can’t deal with both of you.”

The banter continued until race preparations called for Max and Lando’s attention. Kelly and Ahaana waved them off, heading toward the lounge.

The race was a spectacle, with Max clinching victory and Lando following closely behind in P2. The podium celebrations were a blur of champagne showers and roaring applause, but the real festivities began that evening.

The group—Max, Kelly, Lando, Carlos Sainz, Rebecca, Carlos’s girlfriend, and Ahaana—found themselves in a luxurious nightclub, the VIP section buzzing with energy. Neon lights danced across the room, the bass of the music reverberating through their bodies.

“Did you hear?” Rebecca leaned closer to Kelly and Ahaana, her voice conspiratorial. “Apparently, Alex cheated on Charles.”

Kelly’s jaw dropped. “You’re joking!”

Ahaana raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “How do you know?”

Rebecca shrugged. “Word travels fast in the paddock. Apparently, Charles tried to break up with her, but she keeps avoiding the conversation.”

“Classic denial,” Ahaana remarked, sipping her drink.

Kelly shook her head. “Why doesn’t he just cut her off?”

“He wants a clean break,” Rebecca explained. “But Alex is… persistent.”

The conversation shifted to lighter topics as the night wore on. Lando, ever the photographer, took candid shots of the group, earning playful protests from his friends.

By 3 A.M., the nightclub was still alive with energy, but Ahaana needed a breather. She stepped out onto a balcony, the cool night air a welcome contrast to the heat inside. The city lights stretched out before her, their glow reflected in the glass of the towering buildings.

She wasn’t alone for long.

“Hey, Ferrari,” she said, spotting Charles Leclerc leaning against the railing, a glass of whiskey in hand.

Charles glanced at her, his expression a mix of surprise and curiosity. “Do I know you?”

“Not yet,” Ahaana replied, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “But you looked like you could use some company.”

Charles chuckled softly, though the melancholy in his eyes remained. “Maybe I do.”

Ahaana joined him at the railing, their gazes fixed on the cityscape. For a moment, neither spoke, the silence between them comfortable.

“Rough night?” Ahaana asked eventually.

Charles hesitated before nodding. “Something like that.”

Ahaana studied him, her expression thoughtful. “You know, brooding doesn’t suit you. You should try smiling—it might just solve all your problems.”

Charles couldn’t help but smile, albeit faintly. “Is that so?”

“Absolutely,” Ahaana replied, her tone light. “But if you’re not ready to smile yet, I’ll settle for a drink.”

Charles handed her his glass without a word. She accepted it, taking a small sip before handing it back.

“Not bad,” she remarked, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

Charles looked at her, truly looked at her for the first time. The neon lights from the club painted her features in hues of pink and blue, her hair catching the faint breeze. There was something about her—an effortless charm, a warmth that drew people in.

“What’s your name?” he asked, his voice softer now.

“Ahaana,” she replied, extending a hand.

Charles took it, his grip firm but gentle. “Charles.”

“I know,” Ahaana said with a grin. “You ready to party now, Red?”

Charles chuckled, a genuine laugh this time, and downed the rest of his drink. “Lead the way.”

And just like that, the night took on a new energy, two strangers finding unexpected companionship amidst the chaos of flashing lights and thundering music.

────୨ৎ────

ᝰ.ᐟ first part! i know this isn't much, but i plan on writing more and this is just the start. i hope you aren't freaked out by the rather rustic writing and keep reading the chapters to come!

next

────୨ৎ────

tags @seonghwaexile @bookishprophecy @justadesirebel @peterholland04 @bakingpiastries @ricciardosheart @mikefaistgf @ho3smadd

comment to be added to taglist

────୨ৎ────

© weekendlusting

────୨ৎ────

Masterlist

(F)=Fluff , (N)=gender neutral

BTS

Kim Namjoon

Thunderstorms (F) (N)

Min Yoongi

Love is in the Studio (F)

Jung Hoseok

Warmth (F)