For My Followers Who Do Not Watch Severance:

According to Telegraaf Max has also set up a training facility where drivers can train on a simulator: Verstappen.com Racing Pro Simulation

The article also discusses Chris Lulham making the step from simracing to real word racing and the other racing projects Max supports with verstappen.com racing.

if a driver pisses max off he can just send their team principal a text saying "heyyyyy" and cause that driver unimaginable stress for 6-8 weeks

Redraw of an old post I hated ! Delusional time on main

y’all expose yourselves and take this fanfic test i was just forced to by an irl so now i’m making you too

"Your rut's in a month, right?"

Max opens his cupboard, pulling out three Red Bull shirts and dumping it in is bag, "Yeah, around three weeks, I think."

An arm snakes around his waist, Max rests his back against Charles' chest as the other kisses up his scent gland, "Baby, please carry something other than RB kit."

"Sure," He tugs at an Alpha Tauri, letting it slide off and into the bag.

There's a groan against his neck, Max laughs, Charles is so easy to rile up.

The hand tightens on his waist as Charles sighs, "I want to mate you so bad, Max, it'd be so easy to. I can do it now, you can bite me back."

His stomach swoops, it'd be so easy. He'd be Charles' just like that. Charles will be his.

"If it triggers either of our ruts, we'll miss your home race." He turns around, pulling Charles closer by his waist. His eyes are closed but his face is peaceful, Max cups his cheeks, "and you wanted to mate at home."

"Stupid me."

Max rolls his eyes, pulling the Monegasque's head down to rest on his shoulders, "Yeah, you are."

A smile presses against his shoulder, Max kisses his hairs.

_

The paddock noise feels like something pressing at a live wire exposed in his body.

Every smell carries a scent, every touch is scorching at his skin. They were warned it's sensitive after mating, your senses mingle into one- you feel for two people. Max doesn't even like feeling for himself.

"Maxy!"

His eyes dart towards the source, tension draining as Daniel makes his way to the space between wrapped tyres and the wall.

"Congratulations, fucker!" His body is covering Max's, hands messing the strands placed to perfection. Max feels like home.

"No one knows yet."

Daniel's grin widdens, his eyes zeroing in at the mark. Max feels the heat rising in his cheek. Charles broke skin there, it's red and purple with the blood pooling beneath the surface, he loves it.

He whistles at Max, hesitating a second before putting his arms across his shoulders.

"I can tell. You look like a spooked deer."

Max feels the crimson darken, he pushes the hand off him.

"I am fine, of course."

Daniel purses his lips, "Of course."

A beat.

"I have extra nose blockers?"

Max takes one of the ghastly looking blockers with Pierre's face on it (Secret Santa gift, he hopes.) and dares Daniel to speak anything of it. He is fine, of course.

Maybe with a food poisoning (They should have never cooked themselves) and a sore throat (That, he doesn't regret) and too much sweating (The June of Barcelona is hot.) and he can feel everything Charles does and all Charles feels in Ferrari is pain. It's okay, they told him it'd be like this.

why did they make oreo flavored oreos. where’s brennan lee mulligan

One pay Monoposto will play on PC

Suguru once was Satoru's scale to tell justice from wrong. So righteous and loyal to his own ideals until he wasn't. And when he finally broke down, the light he used to shine to show Satoru the right path was gone with him.

no words