He Gave Me The Two Things I Wanted On My Birthday. Being Surprised And Stuffed Toy Bears From MINISO.

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𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐬 | max verstappen × fem!reader

summary | max has been leaving signs for you all along—hidden flowers, colors, and initials

warnings | fluff, romance, intimate moments, emotional intensity, subtle symbolism

word count | 1.2 k

🖇️ more mv1 🖇️ f1 masterlist

You don’t know exactly when it started.

Maybe it was after that race in Monaco, when you stayed late in the paddock helping him organize a few things and ended up talking for hours. Or maybe it was before, when you lent him your jacket under the rain in Spa, and he returned it with a smile that lingered with you longer than you were willing to admit.

The truth is, one day, without warning, you started noticing the little things.

The flower came first.

It was tiny. Just a brushstroke along the bottom edge of Max’s helmet, almost imperceptible. A lavender. No one else would’ve noticed it—except you. Because no one else in that paddock knew that was your favorite flower. Because you were the only one who wore lavender perfume. The only one who left dried sprigs on your desk, like a charm.

You recognized it instantly.

You didn’t say anything. You just watched him from the edge of the garage, pretending to study the tires or check data that wasn’t even your responsibility. It was easier to act like you didn’t know. Like your heart hadn’t started racing over a single gesture.

Because… how do you explain it?

How do you explain that a flower on a Formula 1 driver’s helmet can make you feel so much? How do you justify that, in the middle of roaring engines and the chaos of the paddock, something so small could cut so deep?

The first time, you thought it was a coincidence. Max had thousands of fans, and his helmet design changed from race to race. You couldn’t jump to conclusions over a tiny flower.

But then came the blue.

Not just any blue. Yours. That shade somewhere between sky and mist you wore on your nails, your favorite sweater, in the notes you left Max when he forgot things. A blue that began to show up in the details of his gloves, in a stripe on his suit collar, in the curve of a signature. Subtle. Intimate.

And that’s when you started to suspect.

Then you saw the initials.

Three letters painted inside the helmet, right beside the protective foam. Where no one would see them. Where only he could look before stepping into the car.

They were yours. Your initials.

Small, precise, etched with care and intent.

And that’s when you knew. You knew it wasn’t a coincidence. You knew he was speaking to you in another language—one without words, one of symbols and details the world ignored but you understood.

And something in you melted.

You spent weeks saying nothing.

You didn’t know how. How do you tell someone you found out they carry your essence beneath a layer of carbon fiber? How do you face a silent, hidden confession with trembling hands of "me too"?

Because you knew. You’d known for a while. That Max looked at you differently. That his tone changed when he talked to you. That his smile was softer around you. That when your eyes met amid the press chaos, there was something between you that couldn’t be explained or denied.

But he never said anything. And neither did you.

Until now.

That morning, you woke up with your heart racing. There was no race, just testing and simulations, but you knew Max would be there. Like always. Like you.

You grabbed your backpack, got ready with more care than usual, and left before you could talk yourself out of it. You couldn’t keep pretending you didn’t see what he put on his helmets. You couldn’t keep acting like you didn’t feel what you felt every time you saw him laugh, or quiet, or just being so genuinely him.

You had to face it.

And not just for him. For you.

The paddock was nearly empty when you arrived. The mechanics were focused, the air smelled of hot tires and coffee. You walked quickly, ignoring curious glances, until you reached the Red Bull box.

And there he was.

Sitting on a stool, helmet on his lap, cleaning it with those calm movements he used when he was nervous. His fingers ran a microfiber cloth over the design again and again, like he was trying to polish more than just paint.

“Max,” you called his name, firm but soft.

He looked up.

And for a second, everything stopped.

His expression shifted. From surprise to recognition, from recognition to nervousness, and from nervousness to something else. Something dangerously close to hope.

“Hey,” he said, lowering the helmet slowly. “I didn’t know you’d be here today.”

“Neither did I,” you confessed, walking toward him. “But I needed to talk to you.”

He nodded, swallowed hard. Waited.

You stopped in front of him and looked at the helmet. A new flower decorated the edge. A gentian. Your second favorite after lavender. The one you mentioned once, in Austria, while walking through the Alps.

It wasn’t a coincidence anymore.

“How many more are there?” you asked, gently touching the edge.

Max fell silent. Then he sighed.

“All of them,” he replied. “Since that time in Silverstone. When you stayed with me after the crash. Since then I started to… I don’t know. Keep you there. Carry you with me.”

Your breath caught.

“Why?”

Max looked up. His eyes were intense, but there was a tenderness that broke you inside.

“Because you make me feel stronger.

Because when I drive, when I’m going 300 kilometers an hour, you’re the only thing that calms me. And… because I want you close. Even if it’s like this. Even if you don’t notice.”

“I noticed, Max.”

He went still.

“For weeks now,” you added, with a trembling smile. “I just… didn’t know how to tell you I feel the same.”

And that’s when his eyes widened.

Like you’d activated something in him.

Like finally, the truth could come out without fear.

“Really?”

You nodded. Stepped closer. Took the helmet from his hands and set it aside. Then cupped his face with your palms, soft and slow, afraid of breaking something sacred.

“Really.”

And you kissed him.

It was slow. It was warm. It was everything he’d been waiting for, everything you’d secretly wanted for months. His hands found your waist like they’d been searching for it all along. Your fingers tangled in his hair, and for a moment, the world stopped spinning.

No cheers. No flashes. No ovations.

Just two people, and a tiny universe of silent love.

When you pulled apart, Max rested his forehead against yours, wearing a goofy smile you’d never seen on him before.

“I knew you’d see it one day,” he whispered.

“I didn’t just see it,” you said softly. “I felt it. In every race. In every hidden message. In every detail.”

He laughed, quietly.

“I guess now I’ll have to redesign the helmet. Add something bigger.”

“Like what?”

Max raised an eyebrow, that mischievous little-boy look on his face.

“I always wanted you to find out like this. Not in a press conference. Not with some big announcement. Just you and me. Here.”

“And a helmet full of secrets,” you joked gently.

He smiled, laughter shaky.

“You know me too well.”

“I watch you with my heart. What did you expect?”

He closed his eyes for a second, breathing deeply.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“I want you to come with me to the pit wall.

Be there next time I go out.

I want to race knowing you’re watching. That you know.”

You held his hand tightly.

“I always knew, Max. I just needed the courage to come say it.”

reckless driver ☆ mv1

genre: photographer!reader, angst, moody!max, yearning, jos hate club

word count: 9.9k

Switching to be Max’s personal photographer wasn’t a planned note on your agenda. Neither was him opening up. A lot of things weren’t, therefore, making his growing crush on you catch him completely off guard. 

inspired by reckless driving, lizzy mcalpine !

cherry here!...would it be a regular cherry fic if it didn’t hurt ya just a little bit?

 All he knew was how to be perfect.

It has nothing to do with his looks, doesn’t even mean this in a condescending way. The perfect shade of watercolor eyes. The perfect mix of dirty blond hair. The perfect color of pink that taints his lips. The perfect curve of his nose. This had nothing to do with that. 

For fucks sakes, Max! Jos grits his teeth tightly, marching closer and closer. The accelerator is there for a reason! 

From a very early age, Max’s vocabulary grew an excessive amount, but again, it mainly had to do with how many curse words he could count based on angry verses his dad would often spit at him. By the time he was five, he knew them all, and he knew them by heart. Something inside of him became almost immune to all of that. The hurtful comments, the hatred behind his eyes, the annoyance of not being the best. There was nothing he couldn't handle. And if he remembers well enough, then he can still vividly hear the conversation between his parents. 

Just one more, Sophie. Maybe then, if we’re lucky, we’ll have another boy. One that actually has potential.

He swore to be the greatest in that very moment. No matter how much he wanted to give up, he never would. Not when he was constantly put down by his own father, or when the nerves ate him alive, making his skin crawl—no. He wouldn’t give into being a failure. Wouldn’t satisfy them ever.

So, he prayed. He prayed every single night for the new baby on the way to be anything but another boy. Let it be a girl, let it be an alien, let it be anything but a boy. Because even though he was just a kid, he knew that if there was another opportunity for Jos to train another son of his, he’d take it, and Max would be left as some unfinished project. 

And lo and behold—it was a girl.

He never really knew true happiness until that very moment. He cried a whole lot when he first held Victoria and everyone thought it was adorable, but no one knew just how much this meant to Max. He would continue to be his father’s main focus, and that’s all that mattered. He would craft himself to be the winner he knew he needed to be in order to get a solid smile from him, even just once. Either way, a few years later his parents wound up getting a divorce, so all was good.

Now, at this very moment—he had finally done it. 

Being a World Champion felt the way he knew it would: unreal.

Yes, the fireworks and the cheers were a part of that, but the warm hug from Jos was what really made it all worth it. All the snarky comments, all the panic attacks, all the isolation growing up—it was all worth it.

That’s a good boy! Jos yelled, rustling his sweaty hair before grinning widely. That’s how you do it! 

He wishes to remember this moment until the day he dies, and hopefully, if he's lucky enough, a bit after that. Whatever the case might be, he’s content, but now there’s something new.

Higher expectations.

You were born to be the greatest, Max. You were destined to outbeat those who are stupid enough to think they have a chance against you. They don't. No they fucking don’t because you, Max Verstappen, are one hell of a lion. Jos takes a sip of champagne, swallowing harshly and not at all quietly. And you wouldn’t want to fuck that up, now would you?

The answer is no. No way in hell would he let his father’s affection slip away. Not when he’s been dreaming of it for so long. He’s worked—and he’s worked hard—for this. There’s nothing, nor anyone, who would matter as much as Jos Verstappen and being the best driver there could ever be.

But then—just then.

You came along.

-

You should have said no. Looking back at it now, you really should have said no.

And yet. You couldn’t have possibly known that from the very beginning. 

Funny enough, you started off as Checo’s photographer. You loved it. He was easy to work with. Not only was he nice to you, but so was his family. The work environment was healthy and fun. Your dream job, really, there was nothing to complain about. 

But one by one, from a nearby corner—always a nearby corner—you watched as Max’s photographers rapidly lost their minds and quit. It’d start off with a scowl from him and end with a huff from them, dropping their expensive cameras and leaving without sparing a second glance. 

It isn’t until photographer number eight where things really do take an unexpected turn.

For you. 

“What do you say?” Christian’s voice booms with need. 

You blink hazily. “I-I’m not too sure. I mean, Checo and I work so well together…”

“No, I know what—and trust me, I feel bad for doing this—but we’re really counting on you. You get along with everyone. Everyone loves you! Who’s to say Max won’t?”

“And what if he doesn’t?” you fight back. “Then what? I quit too?”

“First of all, he will. And second of all, that won’t be necessary because he’ll love you.”

“You’re that confident?”

“I am.”

You sigh, rolling your tired neck before looking back at him. “Well, I’m not. I need to think this through.”

The Red Bull principal nods. “Of course! You need time, of course. But please—you’d be helping us all. Especially Max.”

You’d be a liar if you were to say that his words hadn’t stuck with you. What did he mean by ‘especially Max’? Was it to get the wheels spinning? If it was, then it was definitely working.

Adjusting your camera strap that hangs around your neck, you stare off into the distance as if you might find the answer somewhere in between the clouds. And maybe you did find it. The answer, you mean. You were one hundred percent certain now that you wanted to stay with Checo, you just didn’t know how to break the news to Christian who has done so much for you ever since you started working at Red Bull.

“I heard about the offer,” a deep voice rumbles next to you, making you jump with fear, clutching your camera towards your chest like some sort of secret weapon. The Dutchman remains unbothered, taking in the same sunset as you once were. “Christian tends to do that. Put people on the spot. I hate that about him.”

In a way, you’re sort of surprised by him even speaking to you or that he even knows about your existence. Over the past few years, you’ve only interacted with him a couple of times. Once, when he won his first championship. Twice, when he won his second. And thrice, when he won his, well…third. And they were all due to the awkward congratulatory hug you felt yourself forced to give since everyone around you was doing the same. 

Other than that, you had no reason to cross paths with him despite working for the same team. You two always stayed on opposite sides of the paddock, but it was never intentional, it was just the way things played out. Until now.

“You really shouldn’t say you hate the man who's making your dreams come true,” you whisper, struggling to find your own voice. 

Max hums. “All I said was that I hate that about him, not that I hate him as a person.” A beat. “And for your information, he isn’t the one making my dreams come true—I am.”

“He gave you a chance—”

“A chance he knew someone else would have taken if it weren’t him.” That shuts you right up, silence lingering. Seeing as you both were standing on the terrace overlooking the paddock, you two watched as Christian and Checo converse with one another, hands on their hips like some kind of businessmen. “I worked hard to get to where I am, so please, don’t give him all the credit when we both know that's not true.”

More silence. “Listen, I think I’m going to—”

“Turn him down and continue working with Checo?”

Your voice catches. “W-what?”

The Dutchman clicks his tongue, like he’s got you all figured out. Three conversations over the past three years and he thinks he has you all figured out? 

“I can’t say I blame you. You don’t think we’ll work well together, and quite frankly, I would agree. We wouldn’t. You’re too…nice.”

You have to laugh. “Is that supposed to be an insult?” 

“It’s supposed to be the truth,” he’s ricochets.

Turning towards his tall frame, you huff, hair washing over your face before faking a tight smile. “And you’re too…complicated.” Something about the way his gaze darkens at your words makes you want to back down like some shivering dog, but miraculously, you remain still. “And that’s not a compliment.”

“Didn’t sound like one.”

“Well because it’s not.”

He’s not too far from you, and honest to God, that made you shake more than you intended. There was something about him—there always was. Even though you never really worked close to him, you knew there was something there, hiding between the crease of his brows, and now, standing this close to him, you can see it all in a new perspective. 

Max releases a breath, bored and unexplainable. Runs a hand through his hair, turns his face for a second before connecting his gaze back to yours. “Look, you appear to be a sweet girl, but…I think you should turn down Christian’s offer.”

“Why?” He’s taken aback. You catch it the moment his lips twitch in the slightest. You tilt your head, urging him to answer. “You must have a reason, so what is it?”

“You’d hate working with me.”

“And you get to decide that?”

Max rolls his eyes. “Have you enjoyed this conversation so far?”

“No.”

“Then you probably wouldn’t enjoy our time either. And I’d just rather not waste my time on you finding out. No offense.”

“No, no, none taken,” you respond sarcastically. By now, Christian and Checo have spotted you both, secretly hoping there was some sort of friendship forming. They wave cheerfully and you mimic their movements. 

“I hope we get along—I really do,” you say with a smile as you wave enthusiastically over at Christian who lets out a whistle and sends you an excited thumbs up.

His jaw clenches.  

“If not, you’re really going to hate having me around.” 

-

By now, you’ve completely understood why every other person has quit on him. 

Your blood boils deep inside your veins for the millionth time in the past hour. His large hand covers his face as he continues speaking with his engineers. They all look back at you, half-amused, half-pitiful. They grimace when you try once again to get a picture of him, only to get shut down by him spinning around to make you face his back. 

“Unbelievable,” you mutter beneath your hot breath, glaring harshly to the point you feel a migraine growing, pounding the sides of your head. Marching off, you cross over to Checo’s side of the garage, watching as he discusses his strategies with a couple of his crew members. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he responds, flashing a bright smile. “What are you doing here?”

“Pleading for you to take me back?” He laughs, eyes crinkling, freckled nose scrunching with humor. “It feels like I’ve signed my life away.”

“Ah. Come on. It can’t be that bad. Give him some time.”

“It’s been a month!” you exclaim. “What more does he need?”

The Mexican driver’s eyes soften, feeling bad for the swap neither of you wanted, but knew was necessary. Checo knows how patient you can be, how sweet and caring you tend to act towards those you truly care about. And right now? He worries you won’t ever reach that point with Max. 

A heavy sigh. “Max isn’t much of a talker, you know that. But maybe—in order for him to get comfortable around you, he needs you to do something that the other photographers didn’t bother doing.”

Your stomach churns. “Like what?”

He smiles warmly. “Getting to know him.”

Maybe Checo was right. Maybe all Max needed was a friend—someone to talk to.

Sliding back to your side of the garage, you sheepishly walk over to the grumpy Dutchman. Currently, he’s sitting down on the floor, back pressed against the wall, scrolling through his phone. “C-c-can I talk to you?” you ask, nervous fingers lacing through the hoop of your jeans.

He doesn’t bother raising his gaze. “Can you even talk to begin with?”

“S-sorry?”

This time, he does look up, looking past his lashes. “Your stutter.”

Lamely, your mouth opens, only for you to find it drier than the Sahara Desert. The crack of your voice is a clear indication over your weak attempt to speak and that just makes you a blushing mess. Fuck him. You took several speech therapy classes to try and get rid of it, but him pointing out a stutter you thought has gotten better over time makes you want to be photographer number nine. 

You glare—hard. You mentally go over your dialogue and that itself makes you feel small. Embarrassed. So, instead…you don’t say anything at all.

There’s a reason no one likes to work with him.

And you think you just found out.

-

Some days are easier than others. Some days are harder.

Today? 

Today was awful.

“Jesus Christ, Max! What the fuck was that?” Jos yells, nearly pressing his face against the Red Bull driver who stands close by, watching him flinch in the slightest before regaining composure. You’ve heard rumors—plenty of them. Between mechanics, between Checo and a few other bystanders, you heard them all. How Jos’ behavior was unbearable to deal with, especially when it came to him and Max. You just never thought you’d witness it firsthand. 

“My brakes weren’t working,” he replies, holding eye contact that would have left you in a coma. “It was never my intention to crash.”

“See, you say that, and yet everytime I come and visit, you always seem to be messing up one way or another,” Jos hisses, face beet red, and a splash of saliva spraying over Max as he grits his teeth, taking a step back. “I’m confused—do you want to lose the Championship this year or what?”

“No,” the Red Bull driver fires back, firm and quick. Blue eyes translate to a darker shade as they look to where his dad wears a mocking smile. “I’m winning that title, don’t worry.”

Running a hand against his stubble, Jos rolls his eyes before releasing a tired breath. As if he’s the one working endless hours. As if he’s the one who just crashed against the wall at a terrifying speed he couldn’t decrease even if he tried. As if he’s the one with the bruised temple. 

Everything was just always about him. 

“Don’t bother resting until you figure out how to fix all the shit you’ve caused.” Sharp eyes narrow. “Got it?”

“Got it,” Max whispers, watching as he storms off without even saying goodbye to anyone else that wasn’t Christian himself. So much for having him around. Frustrated, he angrily yanks his gloves off, throwing them against the wall and walking the opposite direction.

Something tells you to leave him alone—let him be. You get why he’s upset, but you checking up on him probably wouldn't help. Also, you're supposed to be mad at him, right?

And yet.

“Wait up!” you gasp, out of breath. 

Clenching his jaw, he stops dead in his tracks, turning to look at you with accusing eyes. “Why are you following me?”

“I just…” Coming to a stop as well, you wince at your sudden side stitch. “He shouldn’t have yelled at you that way,” you finish, analyzing the way his body stiffens. “Especially in front of everyone.”

Blue orbs flicker past your figure for a second, then he lets out a lopsided smile. “I bet you enjoyed it, though. You know? Because I’ve sort of been acting like a dick towards you…” The small smile disappears, replaced with a thin line.

“I didn’t,” you find yourself admitting. His brows raise up with surprise, and even you’re surprised to be telling the truth. You should feel good about this moment—someone finally told him off, someone finally put him in his place. But you felt none of that satisfaction. If anything, you felt bad. Swiping your tongue against your lips, you purse them awkwardly. “And you haven’t been a dick. He has.”

And for the first time—he laughs. 

You blink, bewildered at the sound, but he doesn’t seem to notice that. “Like father, like son, right?” he jokes, making you feel like this was all some sort of fever dream. He continues, squatting down against the wall until he sits down completely against the cold pavement. “Your perspective about me has suddenly changed, or what?”

Hesitant, you choose to sit across from him, tucking your legs beneath your butt. His eyes close, smiling softly. Though I doubt it, he mumbles. “I just think I had you all wrong, that’s all.”

“Yeah?” he encourages. “Why?”

You swallow. “Well…because—now it all makes sense. Why you’re so cold towards everyone, I mean. You do get it from your dad, but it’s also not your fault.”

“My dads not the problem,” he hums. “I am.” Your legs are slowly becoming numb, buzzing like a thousand ants are crawling on them, but you don’t dare move an inch, scared of ruining the moment of him being so honest despite being allergic to it. “I let him down constantly and he’s just being…candid.” His eyes open, focused like he’s known you’ve been here all along, sitting across from him. “The issue here is that no one seems to get that. And that’s fine, but I do.”

“C-c-can I…” you cringe at the sound of your stutter, biting harshly down against your sore tongue. You expect him to laugh—make fun of you in any way possible—hold it over your head…but he doesn’t. Instead, he waits patiently for you to feel comfortable enough to continue your question. Your chest loosens up, along with your anxiety. You never thought he’d help with that. “C-can I ask you a q-q-que—”

“A question?” he finishes your sentence, you feeling immensely grateful. You nod. “Sure,” he answers.

Repeating the question over a couple of times, you find yourself feeling more and more comfortable around him and it’s only been a couple of minutes. “Why do you belittle me?”

There’s no way of hiding his shame now as his head hangs low, dirty blond hair hugging the sides of his face with a thin layer of sweat, a purple bruise forming due to his crash of high impact. A tsk. “I want you to know that I don’t hate you. Regardless of what you might think.”

You nod, paying close attention. 

He shrugs. “But I just don’t think we’ll work well together.”

“That’s it?” you ponder, genuinely lost. “You haven’t-t-t even given me a chance to prove myself. Maybe we can?” A beat. “Or maybe you’re not telling the w-whole truth.”

A playful scoff erupts from this throat, ignoring your comment. “You’re right. I haven’t given this a fair shot.” A calm look paints his normally stoic features. “And it doesn’t seem like you’ll be quitting anytime soon.” Reaching out to swat his race boot, you smile, eyes crinkling. The Dutchman chuckles. “So maybe we should start getting along, no?”

“I agree,” you comment, straightening your shoulders and extending your legs, instantly feeling a wave of relief from the pressure. “I-I-I’d like t-that.” Pause. Your smile stretches. “I’d like that very much.”

What you know now is obviously something you didn’t know back then.

So realistically, you fell into a friendship that ended like most.

Complete, utter disaster.

-

As time went on, Max started to change for the better. His glares turned into soft smiles, his monotone voice turned into something that was more untroubled. He was starting to become someone you consider a friend, and you couldn't help but wish he felt the same way too.

“Come out and have a drink with us,” you say, carefully cleaning your lens with the back of your shirt. He looks up from where he packs his things into a small duffel bag. You nod enthusiastically. “Come on, it’s my birthday and I want you there. Celebrate my birth, celebrate your win—it’ll be fun.”

“I don’t like to party,” he confesses, scrunching his nose like the thought alone makes him want to puke. “Never have, never will. Happy birthday, though.”

“You’re no fun,” you mumble, placing your camera back into your own bag. “I wish you’d be more fun.” A beat. “Wait. What do you do for fun?”

“I don’t have any. I just…live a quiet, peaceful life whenever I’m able to.” He throws his bag over his broad shoulder. “I like it better that way, anyways.” With that, he walks out of his driver's room.

Gathering the rest of your things quickly, you chase after him, struggling to keep up with his long strides. “It’s okay to have a quiet life if that’s something you want, but, I don’t know…” You turn the corner, soft hair whiplashing. “Aren’t you able to…well, put that aside for special occasions?”

“Like what? Your birthday?”

You blush heavily. “Well—no. But maybe yours? I know it’s coming up. What are you gonna do then? Stay home working on a crossword puzzle?”

“Not necessarily. Perhaps I’ll read a book, who knows.” Still walking towards his car, he momentarily turns back to look at you, watching as your cheeks glow bright pink. He smiles before turning back. “I’ll make sure to let you know.” Unlocking his car, he raises a brow. “You coming?”

“Can’t,” you pant softly. “Promised Checo that I’d help him find a gift for Carlota.”

“His daughter or his wife?”

Seeing as they share the same name, you can’t help but giggle. “I’m actually not sure.” Flashing one last smile, you wave sweetly. “I’ll make sure to let you know!”

He keeps his eyes on you, watching as you jog towards Checo who laughs as you trip over a nearby rock, nearly falling. Max laughs to himself, feeling an unfamiliar burst of happiness. But that all flies right out the window as soon as his phone buzzes deep inside his pocket, making him groan.

“Hey, Dad.”

-

He ends up texting for your birthday and you end up doing the same. You end up going out to party and he ends up staying home. Point is, you do exactly what you two said you were going to do, so when a last minute texts comes through at midnight, you’re low key appalled.

Max, 12:00pm

Are you home?

He knows where you live because you once told him. You’re just surprised he remembers.

Yeah? Where are you?

Max, 12:04pm

Come outside. Bring a sweater.

The ocean roars loudly as you two make your way closer towards the shore. The breeze is ice cold, but you aren’t complaining. He is, though.

“Shit. It’s freezing.”

A giggle. “Need a jacket, princess?”

Sending a deadpan expression, he shrugs you off, choosing to sit close enough to see the waves, but far enough to not get wet. “I don’t want you to make a big deal out of this, but…I got you something.”

“Max,” you coo, admiring the film camera he hands you as if it’s nothing. But it’s not nothing because when it comes to him it means everything. “This must’ve cost you a fortune,” you whisper, fingers tracing the rim of the black camera that shines against the moonlight. “You shouldn’t have.”

“And you shouldn’t have stuck around. But you did. So…thank you.” The tides grow louder, making him do the same. “I never really said it, but I’m grateful for having you as a friend.”

You freeze and he seems to notice what he said, too.

“Co-worker?” he tries, cringing.

You relax. “F-f-friend sounds better.”

And there it is again, that warmness that only seems to appear whenever you’re around. It should be alarming, but at this point it's not. If anything, it’s normal.

“Now I feel like shit,” you speak up, bumping your leg against his. He hums. “I didn’t get you anything for your birthday. And if you know anything about friendships, then you’d know that presents are a vital thing.”

“Don’t fret. I don’t need anything else other than…” he trails off. “How was your birthday, anyways?”

You don’t notice his sudden shift. Or maybe you did. Either way, he doesn’t know. You snort. “Got shit-faced, what else do you expect? Though, I faintly remember Abby kissing the bartender, so that was cool.” When he fails to recognize the name, you roll your eyes as if you’re dealing with a third grader. “Checo’s photographer? She’s awesome. Has her own car.”

It’s his turn to laugh now. “And you don’t?”

“Nope. But God, I wish. Maybe one day.” You dig your feet deeper into the sand, twisting your lips before smacking them as if that might help hydrate them. You squint an eye. “I’m barely home, so there’s really no need for one yet. I can sense you wondering.”

“I was,” he admits. Swallowing, he mimes your movements. “I’m barely home, either.”

“Do you miss it?”

“Do you?” he returns with no response.

You ponder. “I know I miss my parents. My sister. But other than that, no—maybe not.”

“I don’t either.”

“But I thought you were a homebody?” you accuse.

“Well, I am, but…I miss my home. The place I paid for with my own money.”

“What home don’t you miss, then?” 

“The one my parents tried to convince me and my sister that it was. We had all the family portraits and the typical white picket fence, but it just never felt like home to me. And I don’t miss that.”

“Oh.” Just oh. 

“Yeah,” he follows with a raspy voice. “Oh.”

Tugging the jacket closer to your chest, you shiver. Surely your nose is burning bright pink and your lips are chapped, but nothing felt better than this moment for some reason. “I don’t like your dad,” you mumble beneath your breath, hoping the wind would hide your confession, but if it didn’t, you wouldn’t care.

It didn’t. 

Scoffing, Max nods. “Yeah. Me neither.”

“I don’t like the way he speaks to you. It’s not—normal.” A beat. “Do you think it is?”

“I do,” he hums, blinking slowly as he watches the way a bird gets caught in the wind, trying to lurch forward but only getting sent back. “You get used to it.”

“You shouldn't have to,” you whisper, brows pinched up with concern. “I know I said you were a complicated person, but you’re not. And—and I just don’t want you to think that it’s true.”

He’s the first to disconnect his eyes from yours, feeling a burning sensation forming in the depths of his throat. It’s not completely unknown, he’s felt it many times when he was a kid. The only difference was that he used to feel it behind his eyes as well. Which is why it catches him off guard this time around—years later. 

“You’re not like him, Max,” you say with reassurance. Blue eyes soften up, feeling a rush of emotions. This is something he didn’t even know he needed. Tilting his head, he opens his mouth lamely, words getting stuck like a boy and not a man. You smile tenderly. “And I hope you know that.”

He drives you back home that night despite saying you’d be fine walking back. You fall asleep for the next thirty-minutes, and he overthinks through all of it. Fingers tap against the steering wheel, taking occasional glances to where you breath softly. 

“I told you to bring a sweater,” Max groans once you enter his car. “You’re going to freeze to death.”

You wave him off. “I think I’ll survive.”

As soon as you arrive at the beach, you’re quick to rub your hands against your skin, wishing to have some sort of blanket. With a knowing look, the Dutchman rolls his eyes, slipping off his jacket and placing it over your shoulders. 

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Thanks,” you say, biting the inside of your cheek, suppressing a smile. 

Hearing his teeth chatter, he blows his cheeks out, squinting his eyes when a particular gust of wind slaps him across the face. “Shit. It’s freezing.”

“Need a jacket, princess?” you tease, enjoying the way his lips form a snarl. 

You giggle.

It’s his favorite jacket, the one you’re wearing.

It’s his favorite because of that.

“I’m fucked,” he whisphers to himself, grinding his teeth until he feels them squeak. He tries to focus on the road, but that seems to be the most difficult task in the world when he has you right besides him. And he isn’t thinking anything sinisterly dirty—he’s not—but instead, he’s dreaming.

I can be different, he thinks to himself, repeating the same words over and over. I can be someone she likes. If I try hard enough, I can do that. Planning ahead was always something he hated, but just thinking about it now makes his veins rush with excitement. As if the possibility of you might exist somewhere down the line.

You said some things he never thought he’d hear, because to be quite honest, he never thought someone would understand him the way you have. For the longest time, he thought a fucked up person like him could only get with an equally fucked up person or simply he’d have to live by himself for the rest of his life.

And here you came, proving him wrong.

He doesn’t realize how fast he’s going, how he’s pressing hard on the gas. Not until you groan. “Fuck. Are you alright?” he asks with concern as soon as he hears your head thud against the window from his jerky turn at the roundabout. 

“Yeah.” A beat, then a giggle. You rub your head. “This is gonna bruise.” He winces, taking a glance. Keep your eyes on the road, you laugh, but he can’t. Not when your eyes crinkle the way they do. Like your eyes have a dimple of their own. He’s never seen that on anyone else. “We’ll be twins,” you state as some sort of lame joke. And it does the job because he’s quick to let out a chuckle. 

“Sorry,” he apologizes. 

“Don’t worry about it.”

Pulling up to your house, you go in to unbuckle yourself before slipping the jacket off. He shakes his head. “Keep it.”

“That wouldn’t make any sense,” you try. “I’m already home, I’ll be fine. Put it on.”

“Well I’m not cold anymore,” he pushes back. “It’s fine, really. I have plenty—what’s one missing?”

“It's freakishly soft,” you debate, furrowing your brows with concentration. “Okay. Thanks, Max.” Grabbing your film camera, you let out a shy smile. “For this too. Just—for these past few hours. I had fun.”

“Yeah,” he hums gingerly, running his hand along the steering wheel. “So did I.”

This grabs your attention, ears perking up like some German Shepard. “Am I dreaming? Did Max Verstappen just say he had fun? With me?” you interrogate, eyes shining. 

He groaned, tossing his head against his seat. “I take it back—”

“You can’t do that—”

“I take it back,” he repeats firmly, but the amusement poured into his accent tells you otherwise. “Now get out of my car.”

You poke your tongue out at him before raising your hands up defensively. “Drive safe,” you shout over your shoulder as you walk towards your house, backward. “Oh! I almost forgot to ask!” Rushing to his side of the car, you signal for him to roll his window. He does, quirking a brow. You grin. “Let me take you out.”

His heart thuds. Pulses. Skyrockets. 

It’s a scary feeling. 

You beam. “Yes! As your birthday present! Let me take you out. Just you and I.”

“You and I?” he repeats robotically, blinking with round eyes. 

A nod. “Yeah. Just like today. You took me out and gave me an amazing gift. Let me do the same for you.” Pause. “Please?”

It dawns on him that this is the first time a girl has asked him to hang out. Whether it’s romantic or not, it doesn’t matter, and the way you bat your cartoon eyes makes him spiral, feeling his breath hitch. “Y-y-yeah,” he finds himself saying. “Sure. Why not?”

“You only turn twenty-seven once,” you hum. Like that might seal the deal besides the fact that he’s already accepted.

The Dutchman chuckles nervously, fighting the urge to just…God.

“You only turn twenty-seven once,” he agrees, sharing a tight smile, hands gripping the leather wheel. 

-

Your plans end up getting pushed back due to your guys’ tight agenda. The season is tough on not just him, but the entire team. McLaren is thriving, sometimes more than Red Bull, and that has everyone feeling on edge.

Chewing your nails, you watch as Lando crosses the finish line, nearly a minute ahead from the Dutchman. You know he’s not going to want to talk about it, but he will. He has to. 

Because Jos is here.

“You’re getting quite comfortable on that second step,” Jos says tauntingly. He’s not yelling—not like the other times—and somehow, that just makes him scarier.

“I’m not,” Max defends as he rubs a sweaty hand against his face. His hair is longer than usual, so that doesn’t help the awkwardness he feels when he has to push it back. “We still did good—”

“Good is not good enough,” he hisses, pressing a finger against his son's suit, making him take a step back before he regains composure. “Unless it is. For you, I mean.” Silence. “So what? Is it?”

“No,” Max mumbles, fighting the urge to push him back. He’s thought about it—many times. And maybe he’s reached his limit, and maybe he can do it…

But he’d never dare to in front of you.

Blue eyes quietly plead for you to leave. And yes. That would be the wisest thing to do right about now, but your feet betray you. They’re super glued, you begin to suspect. Why else would you not be able to move?

“You used to be so good,” Jos points out, eyes only getting sharper. “What happened? What’s distracting you? Who’s distracting you?”

Max’s eyes flicker for a second—just a fucking second—to where you stand, paralyzed, and he prays he doesn’t notice it. But he does. 

Turning to face your small figure, Jos lets out a shallow laugh, a confused expression mapping his wrinkled face. “Are you serious?”

“I—” Max tries, but is waved off by his massive hand. 

“A crush isn’t going to get you anywhere, Max, come on, you know this.” Jos rubs his eyes, aging quickly. “Especially with a girl like her.”

“I-I-I,” you stutter, feeling your face grow red. Swiftly, this makes you feel as dumb as when you first met Max, but somehow worse. 

A million times worse. 

“Y-y-you what?” Jos mocks your stutter, walking closer to where you stand. “You what?”

“H-h-he doesn't like me. So, there’s no need to…w-w-w—”

“Worry,” Max fills in, marching to stand in between you two, and you immediately feel your shoulders relax, but your breath continues to struggle to find its way out of your system. “There’s no need to worry. I just had a bad race, it happens. It’s no one’s fault.”

“Except it is!” Jos finally screams, spraying his saliva with every punctuation, something you’ve come to realize happens when he gets fired up, which nearly occurs every time he's here. The only difference is that this time, you’re caught in between the argument. Jos breathes heavily, chest puffing. “It's someone's fault, and I’ll lay it out for you since you can’t seem to take responsibility—it’s your fault.”

“No, it’s not,” you protest from behind Max, feeling courage quickly expand through your ribs because you knew that wasn’t true. “It’s no one’s fault.”

But someone like you is invisible to someone like Jos Verstappen. 

Ignoring you, he gets rid of that last step that separates Max from himself, faces inches apart from one another. And it’s terrifying how similar they are. Their eyes, their nose, their lips. The only thing separating them from being twins was Max’ kindness.

“Say it’s your fault,” Jos orders with a solid and demanding tone. “Say the crash was your fault and that you fucked up.”

You’re breath catches once again, frantic eyes darting to where Max clenches his fists before letting them relax.

“The crash was my fault—”

“It's all your fault,” Jos adds.

The Red Bull drivers lips twitch. “The crash was all my fault…” A beat. “And I fucked up.”

“Max,” you whisper, gingerly grabbing his hand. He flinches at your touch and pulls away as soon as his dads eyes linger down to where you two connect. You wither.

“Get your act together,” Jos threatens with fury before walking out, slamming the door behind him.

You jump at the unexpected sound. No one speaks, no one moves, no one dares to acknowledge what just happened.

Max Verstappen lands second on this week's podium, Crofty announces, pulling you away from the daze you were stuck in. Max’s gaze switches over to the T.V. as he stiffens. Say, what are the chances he wins this year's Championship against Lando Norris who seems to be having the time of his life in that McLaren? 

“You did good out there—”

“No. I didn’t.” He looks away. “But that won’t matter because that Championship is mine.”

Mine.

-

You notice he’s reverted back to his old habits the moment he gets snappy. The moment he starts blocking everyone out, including you. You sort of saw it coming, but still—it hurt. And it took you a moment to realize, realize why it burned so much.

You loved Max Verstappen.

He’d always been unapproachable. Spine-chilling, even. But ever since you two started talking to each other as more than strangers, you realize he was none of that. He had once been kind, once been sweet, but this was all Jos’ fault. Weeks went by—months, even—and all you ever really did was snap pictures of him on the stimulator. That’s it.

It’s as if your friendship never even existed.

It came as no surprise when he failed to pick up your phone calls and texts. He was awfully good at doing that. By the time you were a month away from the Championship, you had stopped trying.

Max can feel the awkward tension he had created. It sat there between you two every time you followed after him like a dog on a leash, timidly taking his picture, afraid of getting the wrong reaction out of him. It had happened a couple of times in the past, when you first started working for him, so it seemed you were trying to prevent history from repeating itself. The slight sting in his chest took a jab at him every time without fail.

Vegas was typically a good time for both the drivers and people like you. You’d be the first to admit how easy it is to get lost in the gist of it all. 

Except this time around, it was hard to live through it.

-

Hey. You home?

Max groans, rubbing his eyes until they’re wide awake, picking up his phone. 

Max, 12:00pm

Are you okay?

A minute scrolls by. 

I have your present. 

The first thing he notices is his jacket. His initials are sewn onto the sleeve. He didn’t even know that was a thing, but the sight of it made his stomach flip. “Looks good on you,” he compliments as soon as he enters your car. You chuckle. 

It’s a nice jacket. The best one I own.

He notes how smooth you drive, like a grandma. You’re precise with your turns, ahead with your signals—extremely observant. 

“See how I steer the wheel,” you speak up, wiggling a neat brow. “Unlike you.”

“I said I was sorry,” he laughs, getting a reminder of the last time you two were together. “How’s the bruise?”

“Nearly gone.” A beat. “How’s yours?”

He smiles, remembering about his own. “Nearly gone.”

“Told you we’d be twins.”

You take him to a nearby park. It’s lame, I know, you apologize, wincing shyly. I’m not good at this, but I hope your present makes up for it.

“This is great,” he eases your nerves, seeing how they scribble across your face. “This is my first time at a playground, actually.”

Your eyes widen as soon as you sit down on the yellow swing. “You’re kidding, right?”

He shakes his head. “Nope.”

“Huh.”

He takes a seat on a nearby swing, following your soft kicks against the sand. “My dad preferred to have me on the race track than waste my time on anything else.”

This gets an eye roll out of you, soft wind fanning your face as you kick back and forth. “That explains it all.” He shuts his eyes momentarily, enjoying the silence. Far enough away, he can hear the city—but that’s the least of his worries.

You’re the first and only one to give me a childhood so late in life. Round eyes flicker towards him where he digs his shoes into the sand, not worried about the uncomfort it'll cause. If it weren’t for you, I probably would’ve gone my whole life without knowing what a playground is like.

The thought alone is saddening. Your mind makes up an image of young Max, looking into the distance at every other kid who runs towards slides and monkey bars as he straps his helmet and slips on his gloves, longing to know what it’s like to have a normal youth. 

“Don’t feel bad.”

Your lip wobbles. “Don’t make me feel things, then. Why would you say that?”

“I thought we could open up to one another,” he jokes, but you can hear his seriousness in it. That’s all he’s needed, after all—someone to talk to. “Should I shut up from here on out?”

“No,” you reply rapidly, gripping your hand around the metal chain. “Don’t you ever shut up.”

His smile relaxes, eyes opening as he tilts his head, then looks up ahead at the moon. And it’s one of those nights where it’s scarily white—almost too much. One might think it’s a flashlight, by the way it shines, but there’s a clarity to it that makes it easy to admire. “I don’t think I love my dad.”

 You try not to let out a reaction. “You don’t mean that.”

“No…” He clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth. “I think I do.” A shrug. “I respect him. A tiny bit, but I do. But love?” A bitter scoff. “God, I don’t even think he loves me.”

“Sure he does—”

“He loves my success,” he cuts you off. “And it’s embarrassing how everybody knows it.”

Neither of you are swinging anymore. Gathering your thoughts, you look down at your lap, inspecting your dirty shoes. “If it helps, I love you, Max.” In a heartbeat, his blue eyes dart towards you, seeing the way you breathe evenly. “Is that surprising to you?” He doesn’t answer. He couldn't answer. And boy did he want to. Smiling tenderly, you nod. “It’s not that hard, really.” You begin to swing again, as if you didn’t just drop the biggest bomb on him that left his heart in his throat, beating at an abnormal speed. “Not when you’re so patient with me.”

The chain squeaks, making him snap out of his daze, blinking harshly. “I hate my stutter. I’ve had it tugging at my leg since I was eight. Don’t know what caused it, but it’s been there, trust me. So, when you made fun of it a while back, I thought to myself: this guy is a real douchebag.”

Shame pours within him as he recalls that interaction. Checo had told him about his photographer's stutter and how hard it was to hold a conversation with her at first, but the longer they worked together, the more he found it endearing. And that’s exactly what Max felt the moment you became his photographer at a stage in his life where he still didn’t know you all that well other than the fact that you carried your camera like a newborn baby. 

“I’m so—”

“Don’t be,” you cut him off. “I don’t hold grudges. Plus, you’re quite helpful now that you’re used to my stammering, don’t you think?”

Guilt fuels him as he apologizes with his eyes. “I shouldn’t have mocked you. Ever.”

“Probably.” A hum. “But the way you read my mind makes up for it.”

He’s been doing a lot of that, without even realizing it. He concludes your sentences without batting an eye about the words you’re trying to get out, trying to express. And in all fairness, you hadn’t noticed it either, not until Checo pointed it out.

That’s how normal it had become.

“My stutter was my number one insecurity growing up.” Connecting your gaze back to where he’s already looking, you draw your eyebrows in with gentleness. “And you made it go away.”

Before he can think his words through, he opens his mouth. “I love your stutter.”

You blink, bewildered at the comment. Then—you laugh.

“Thanks?” Your volume increases. “Never heard that one before.”

Screwing his eyes shut, he shakes his head, grimacing at the sound of his voice replaying inside his crowded mind. 

“What I’m trying to say is that I love you,” he rambles, much faster and correctly this time, making you stop your laughter, eyes going wide once again. “Is that surprising to you?” he whispers, awaiting a response with anxiety dripping from his fingertips that clench around the chain that loops around the swing, giving it security. 

“You mean as friends, right?” you ask carefully, making his stomach drop.

“I don’t think friends think about each other the way I think about you,” he confesses, out of breath by the sudden shift he’s caused. “I see you differently.”

As soon as your lips part to say something, he pleads silently as if saying: please, just hear me out. And that’s exactly what you do.

He’s standing right in front of you now, pacing back and forth like some football coach as you watch him like a clueless cheerleader who sits on the sidelines. He clears his throat after a lengthy minute.

“I noticed you first when you walked into your interview four years ago.”

Your mind races back to a moment in time where your camera was significantly cheaper and your dreams were larger than life. 

He nods, watching as you recollect the memories that were tucked in the far back of your brain, like it didn’t matter for the longest time, which to be fair, it hadn’t.

“You were supposed to be my photographer.”

Your brows furrow, completely lost by his words. “What?”

His large hands run through his shaggy hair from his slumber that you had ripped him away from. “From the very beginning, it was supposed to be you and me. But…” 

Neat brows narrow down harder. “But what?”

Max stops his pace, killing his tracks that lands him right in front of you looking up at him with innocent eyes. He sighs. “I said I didn’t want you working with me.”

“Oh.” A beat. “It’s always been this way, then? You not wanting me near you?”

“For a while,” he says quickly before cringing. “But now that we’ve worked together, I realize the mistake I made. How many years it could’ve been us…”

“What’s the real reason?”

Flinching, he squirms under your focus. “What?”

You nod, encouraging him. “You always said it was because you didn’t think we would work well together, and look at us now—we have.” Leaves rustle from the dozen of trees that wrap around the park. “What was the actual reason?”

He’s known the answer to this question from the moment you joined the team, more specifically, Checo’s. He knew the answer to the question the moment he crossed that finish line, claiming his first Championship like the greedy man he was carved out to be by his own father.

He’s just not sure how you’d take it. Coughing awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck, he avoids eye contact. “I knew you’d distract me.”

Your stomach twists like a licorice. “Oh God—have I?”

“No!” he yelps, but the defense he guards up like a soldier lets you know that that’s nowhere close to being true. You shrink, increasing the distance between you two. His palms begin to sweat. “You haven’t—”

“Your dad was right,” you whisper. “I have been a distraction to you. That’s why you’ve been having such a weird season compared to the previous ones…”

“No,” he presses firmly. “The car has changed, that’s why I’ve been driving differently, it has nothing to do with you.”

But you don’t seem to engage with his words, instead, you shake your head like an angry child who never gets their way at the candy store. “How can you love me when I’m the reason your dad puts you down every chance he gets?”

It’s like you forced your fingers in at an open wound, one he tends to forget is there when he’s with you, but when you mention it's existence, he remembers why he dreads it so much. 

“He talks to me like that because he’s a shitty dad, not because of you,” he says, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. “I liked you the second year I won my Championship. The first time you said my name.”

“Congrats, Max,” you say with an awkward smile after you pull away from an even more awkward hug. “You did good.”

“I was infatuated by you the third year I won my Championship.”

“You can’t keep firing your photographers,” Christian lectured him with a tired voice, making his accent sound ten times stronger. “Especially when we don’t even have their replacement.”

“I haven’t found one I like,” he says as he watches you walk by, heading towards Checo with a bright smile, bragging about a recent setting that puts your old photos to shame. He looks away when you turn towards his garage, as if you felt his eyes on you. “It’s not my fault.”

“No, young man, it is,” the team principal presses, letting out a tired sigh. “You need to mature with the idea of having one, if not—”

“If not what?”

“If not…uh…we’ll…” Christian looks around for a while before turning back to the Dutchman. “We’ll have to take a different approach.”

“Yeah?” Max questions with amusement. “Which is?”

Christian shrugs. “Swapping Checo’s photographer with yours.”

This makes the Dutch physically recoil. “I’ve told you a thousand times already—it would never work out. She’s too…happy all the time.”

“And maybe that’s exactly what you need.”

Max lets out a shaky breath, watching your chest rise and fall as if you find it harder to breathe with every passing second. 

“And I haven’t won my fourth,” he begins with a light smile and an even lighter tone. “But I already know that I love you.”

This is it. The last smile of his. Of that soft dimple of his that caught you by surprise the first time you saw it. It's the last time because you know that whatever happens after is going to ruin it all.

“I love you—”

“I don’t.”

His lips run dry, forcing a small chuckle like he didn’t hear you right. “I’m—I’m.” He smiles hesitantly. “B-but you said…” No more wind circles around you. “You said it.”

“I know.” You wince, brushing your hair back, annoyed with it by now. “I know I did, but…Max. I didn’t mean it in that way.”

The blue eyed Dutch takes a step backward, noting the uncomfortableness the sand is causing his feet to feel now that the adrenaline is gone. “What do you mean?” he murmurs with embarrassment. “What do you mean?”

Licking your lips, you focus on a tree that stands behind him, how fucked up looking it was. As if someone stabbed it over and over again until it bled wood chips.

“I do love you—but as a friend.”

“Why, though?”

“Friendships last longer,” you respond, like you’ve had the answer sitting on the tip of your tongue for the longest time now. “Relationships don’t.”

“Ours could,” he tries, feeling pathetic. “I’m good at everything. I bet I’ll be good at a relationship, too.”

“A relationship is not a game, Max,” you argue, your voice slightly raising, making him clench his jaw. “And I’m sure you think it is because you're such a perfectionist, but it’s not that easy. There’s a lot of dedication that goes into it.”

“Then I’ll be dedicated to you,” he says. “Heart, body, and soul. I swear. Just—give me a chance.”

“I can’t…”

“But why not?”

“Because all I see is a friend!” you shout, regretting it instantly. His skin loses its natural color, switching to a ghostlike state. His pink lips snap shut like a bear trap. And his furrowed brows revert back to their usual place. Nibbling on your bottom lip, you massage your temples that suddenly feel painful.

“We’re so different from one another, Max. Your life is written down, from birth to death. And you know you’ll live a good one. And mine—mine is constantly changing. I mean, look at it. A few months ago I was working with your teammate and now…” 

He remains silent, patiently watching your lips move with every word that pinches his feelings like the biggest bully. “The love I hold for you is there…but not the same way yours is there for me. Your life moves fast, and I’m barely even able to keep up with a conversation with this fucking stutter that appears most times with others, but very few with you.”

Still nothing. Just his eyes focused on this jacket now, like he's already reclaiming it. “And I really do thank you for that, I do. But I thank you the most for letting me get to know you for who you really are. Not who you pretend to be or what others say you are—and I wish I could reciprocate, but…I just… don’t.”

An eternity passes by, it feels like. He doesn’t even know how long you two have been standing here now, but the sunrise is a clear indication that it’s been forever. And he doesn’t feel tired, nor does he feel upset…

He just feels dumb. 

“I get it,” he finally speaks up. “We view each other differently and that’s not your fault.”

“Yeah, but—”

“It's not your fault,” he repeats, wearing a warm smile, hoping you'd believe his lie. That and he doesn’t think he can handle much more. All he wants to do is go back home. “I’m just glad I had someone to talk to for a while. And, well—I’m sorry. I must have gotten confused by the situation. Maybe I don’t love you, who knows. I probably just got excited, you know? Went my whole life without having an interaction like ours, maybe I’m convincing myself to believe in something that was never there to begin with. For either of us, that is.”

I just got excited, is all. 

-

He did end up winning his fourth Championship the way he said he would. You did end up taking that perfect picture as he stood on that podium, shining as bright as his golden trophy. Jos was happy, Christian was happy, the entire team was happy, but you and Max?

Blue eyes lock with yours, feeling the differenceness between it all. He still loves you, he realizes. He wasn’t confused after all. But neither were you.

All you saw was your best friend, and now you’re not even sure you have one anymore. You two no longer hang out, you barely even speak to one another despite spending most of your days together. He still smiles at you from time to time, but it’s not the same. Nothing could ever be.

And it was a soul crushing thing to realize.

“Congratulations,” you muffle against his race suit as you hug him without your arms fully wrapping around him and his hardly wrapping around you. “This is your moment, Max.” A beat. “No one else’s.”

You’re talking about his dad. He knows that. 

Chuckling, he nods. Like he’s sure of that now. That all his success is his, and his alone. That you have finally managed to matter the most in his life—not his trophies, not his father’s respect.

You.

Pulling away, he still feels your invisible hug linger on him in a way he can’t explain and neither could you. You dig into your pocket, pulling out a silver bracelet. 

“Your birthday gift.”

Right. You never got the chance to give it to him after the last real conversation you two ever had. After that, both of you ignored the fact it ever even happened, and in a way, he was grateful for that, but that didn’t stop it from stinging. Looking down at it, he reads the engravement, feeling his heart take a last lap.

To my favorite open book. With love.

He laughs, clutching his fist around it. “I’m nowhere close to being an open book, but…thanks. I love it.”

You giggle, eyes crinkling with tears as you brush them away. “Not at first, but—eventually. It takes time.”

The cheers rise, but neither of you acknowledge them. Not even when they chant his name, over and over.

“You’ve peeled me,” he admits, nearly whispering. “Completely.” Your breath hitches, sucking in that breath that cost to take in. Max shrugs with a gentle grin. “You’ve peeled the lemon,” he jokes with a shaky breath of his own, blue eyes switching to a darker shade that makes your limbs go weak. “So—do your fingers burn?”

You force a laugh. The kind that makes your head tilt just a bit before tippy toeing to give him a proper kiss on the cheek. He goes still.

“I wish they did. That’d make my decision much easier to go through.”

With that, you step away, the Dutch immediately being over taken by journalists, photographers, the FIA, the drivers—everyone except the only person he really wants there celebrating with him.

His mind is racing faster than his Championship winning car. What decision? What could you possibly mean by that—

Christian embraces him, ruffling his sweaty hair as he pours a bottle of champagne over his head, laughing with glory. Max shakes his head, leaning down to ask the only question that ever made his heart break before he ever even got a response.

“Did she quit?”

Christian knows exactly who she is, but what catches him by surprise is how agitated he appeared to suddenly get. The team principal shrugs. “We’ll find you a new one!” 

“No,” Max whispers in disbelief as he tries to find you from a distance, but all he sees are flashing lights that begin to cut his patience thin. “No.”

I wanted her.

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious@notkaryna

A fact about me is I want to travel the world because there is so much to discover. Just like how can we see the world in different settings. Compared to the Philippines where there is this hot climate when I went to the United Kingdom and Paris they really have this different lifestyle. Wherein as it was summer the mornings were hot but the evenings were really cold. In the Philippines there are beaches where you really feel disconnected from the world. Like how it is in Manila so when we were in Zambales where I felt at peace with my self. 

---

Formula 1 Fic Recs

Mark Webber

papaya family @beiasluv

Lando Norris

don't you ever grow up @beiasluv

my introvert girl @mirohlayo

taking care of you @uglyducklingofthe2000s

safe with me, love @norrizzandpia

champion to your heart @brorarri

when? @norrizzandpia

get his ass! @lewisvinga

lando norris who.. @verstappen-cult

moles @norrisleclercf1

vicious @azulpitlane

bad blood @astonmartinii

welcome interruptions @nathaslosthershit

birthday @silverstonesainz

my model, my inspiration, my muse, my everything @foreveralbon

had enough @vivwritesfics

brownies? @gentlyweeps-world

hugs! @julyretrograde

keep her safe @eternally-racing

car shopping @jaeeyaaasworld

leaftapes pt2 @planete777

driving lessons @alltoowelltom

i see ur face @uglyducklingofthe2000s

milk n honey @auggieblogs

affection @cl6teen

meme @maplesyrupsainz

delusional @xhopelesslyromanticx

shes kinda hot tho @l4nd0n0rr1s

you're such a dream to me @prettylittlels

the first time @norrizzandpia

no risk. no loss. @uglyducklingofthe2000s

Oscar Piastri

arrow and papaya @beiasluv

surprise @planetpiastri

Charles Leclerc

helmets for his and hers @lorarri

your #1 wag @lovecanyon

say don't go pt2 @landitolover

Disneyland @hemmingsleclerc

the other driver @leclerclov3

let you break my heart again @sofs16

eclairs n leclercs @hamiltvns

i can see u @luviemax

unaware @vivwritesfics

Max Verstappen

hard launch @archiverstappen

ending the war @princepiastri

bestie @chillielo

F1 Grid

secret santa @auggieblogs

THE GREATEST — TRUE BLUE

[ part one / masterlist / requests are open ]

☽｡⋆ part 2 of THE GREATEST. he tried to live without you, but how is one to survive with a broken heart? a story based on TRUE BLUE by billie eilish. — lando norris x fem!reader (could technically be read as a stand-alone)

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 angst, hurt & comfort, hints of fluff (?) 𝄞 4.1k words

❝ Lights out, you’re not here holding me ❞

Lando had never before felt the way he did the day you left him. Seeing you walk through that door, intending to never come back to him ever again, it pained him. It took him too long to realize how much he hurt you, and now he had to suffer the consequences. He swore it wasn’t on purpose, but when his friends told him that also the third girl he had brought along since you broke up with him resembled you in a way, he stopped denying. There was no use. The guys knew, the internet knew, he knew that he wasn’t yet over you. And he thinks he never will be. You left an empty place in his heart, a place that would forever be reserved for you only and you only. No matter how hard he tried to find someone else, no one would ever be able to replace you.

The girl he brought to the first race after the summer break was long forgotten already.

At first, everyone around him believed him when he said he felt happier now without you. But the moment he went back to his old ways, the heartbreaker they’ve known for so long, they realized he wasn’t. The girls always looked like you. He only rarely smiled anymore and he couldn‘t care less about his friends‘ relationships, even going as far as faking a gag or simply not coming to hang out with them at all. He said it’s because he needs to focus on racing. They knew it was because of you. Lando was yet to tell them why the relationship ended. He’d rather crash his car and DNF in every race for the rest of his life than to ever have to talk about the night you left ever again. He felt embarrassed and bad and was so terribly regretful. Only his parents knew the whole truth. He told them with tears caressing his face just like you once did, and seeing the disappointment in their eyes, he felt his heart rip apart even more. They had loved you so much, only waiting for the day he would finally go down on one knee for you, and now he messed it all up.

If he could just go back and make it all alright. Make you feel unconditionally loved wherever you went, make you happy, keep you happy. He would change it all if he just had the chance, but he knew you deserved better. Maybe one day, he could be better again.

He is ready to give up the very thing for you that had made you leave him that night if you’d ask him to. Racing would never again mean as much to him as you, though broken up, still do to him.

He was currently seated in his McLaren, waiting for the lights to go out so he could try his very best to overtake max at the start already. He should have his mind on the track. He shouldn’t think about you, not here. But like always, he couldn’t help it. He hoped to see you in the stands once he was able to get out of the car again. He hoped to see you wave and smile at him, run into his arms and let him kiss you all over, do all the things he had failed to do so many months ago. He knew it wouldn’t happen. He believed anyway. The lights went out and the cars began moving. He tried his best, he always did, but he wasn‘t afraid to lose anymore; for what was it worth to win a race when he had faced the greatest loss of them all already?

❝ I count every tear down my cheek instead of sheep ❞

You couldn’t sleep. You could never sleep while he was racing. Especially when he was on the other side of the world, which is why you went with him last season, and also at the start of this one. Maybe you never should’ve. Long distance was hard, but you managed. He felt farther away when he was still sleeping next you every night. At least when he didn’t send you off to sleep on the couch.

You tossed and turned in your sleep, but you didn’t dare to turn on the TV. It’s been months, you should try to live without him. Without seeing him. Without feeling for him. His races had nothing to do with you, neither did the outcome. And god, if he wins and you have to watch him kiss someone else again you might as well just take his racing car and drive right into the nearest wall. He’s so far away and yet, it didn’t make you love him any less. You huffed, fear slowly building up inside of you. You knew you shouldn’t do this, you had to wake up early tomorrow and really, it wouldn’t be that bad to miss a race once or twice, but you couldn’t help it. Reaching for the remote, your eyes were flooded with tears and your heart stung like never before when you saw him driving out there. You were rooting for him nonetheless. Just months ago you had watched the races from inside the McLaren hospitality, but now? All alone in your bed, anxiously following his every move. You would never fall asleep like this.

❝ Sleepwalk, find myself on your street. Three knocks, ring the bell, then I leave ❞

And there you stood high up in the stands the next weekend, head hanging low as you didn‘t want any fans of him recognizing you, back in his territory. You tried to ignore him, you really did, but your eyes kept following him around the paddock and didn’t leave him even while he was doing the quick interviews he had to do on his way there. And honestly, it kinda felt like home. Attending the races. Being near him. Being with him. You missed it more than anything else in the world, and you felt pathetic for it. He hurt you every way he could, and still, he didn’t hurt you enough to make you hate him. And you really wanted to hate him.

You went to the race together with one of your friends from uni. You bonded over formula 1 and your shared passion for the sport and quickly became very good friends. However, she had to leave soon, moving to another city for a better starting point for her career. Hence, you decided to save some money and go to a race together for the last time; for now, at least. You still remember the way she looked at you when you told her you were with Lando. The way you swooned over him to her, and the way you cried your eyes out when it all ended. You really thought you‘d be able to spend the rest of your life with him, and now all you had left of him were memories. She‘s known you long enough to immediately notice your longing after him the moment your eyes locked onto his dark brown curls. Your heart fluttered and it made you nauseous. One day this would stop, right? Your feeling must fade at least sometime, or was this all just wishful thinking? Could you not just get over him like everyone else got over their exes and start dating someone new?

Your heart ached. He was so close, not out of reach anymore, not on the other side of the world anymore, but still, there was no way of getting back to him, the crash barriers and the grandstand keeping you away, and it felt like the end of your relationship all over again, with him on the track and you sitting and waiting patiently on the sidelines, always at least an arm length distance between you two. You shouldn’t even want to get him back. You left out a sigh as he walked into the McLaren hospitality, finally out of sight. But still not out of mind.

Your friend huffed next to you, and finally decided to try and convince you to talk to him after the race while you were still in the same place, to get closure at last. You knew it must annoy your friends and maybe even your family that it was so hard for you to just move on. They put effort into understanding, but still, Lando wasn‘t good to you, at least not in the end. Many would treat you better, but you didn‘t seem to care. You quickly shook your head no, telling her how he probably didn’t want to talk to you and that catching him after the race would be nearly impossible, with bodyguards and tons and tons of interviewers and cameras around him.

The conversation ended soon after, as the lights went out and the drivers hit the gas. You pondered for a second, reconsidering your friend‘s suggestion, a weird feeling building up in your stomach. Maybe you shouldn’t even be here, maybe you should *leave* after the race and never look back. But to your dismay, every sense in your body was telling you to stay.

❝ I try to live in black and white but I’m so blue ❞

The race went well, but he didn‘t really care. Of course he was happy, the whole team was euphoric for their two drivers who secured place 2 and 4, huge smiles plastered on their faces. Once he was done with the post-race interviews he left to go back and get some rest inside his apartment, at least until the others came around to drag him to the afterparty, slandering from one club into the next one.

Everything felt so lonely without you. His bed was cold even when he was hidden under his blanket, and the dining room was nothing more than a reminder that he wasn‘t spending his evenings with you. Watching TV got boring. Everything got boring. He didn’t even know why he lost you anymore, he didn’t know what the hell it was that made him believe you weren’t made for him, making him believe there was actually something more important than you in this lifetime. You haunted his every thought, and even though he truly only wanted the best for you, deep inside him, he wanted you to still need him as well.

He stood in front of his bathroom mirror, gently buttoning up his shirt like you used to do, always leaving the 3 highest ones unbuttoned. He missed your touch, your eyes looking up at him and your hands always reaching for his. His arms would be wrapped around your waist and his head would be leaning on your shoulder, sneaking a few, small kisses up your neck as you changed your earrings for the night, the imagine of it painted onto your fast beating heart as you stood in front of the full-body mirror in your apartment, finishing up your accessoires. You wore a blue dress that covered your thighs, not reaching your knees. It hugged you in all the right places, accentuating your features. It used to be Lando‘s favourite, but you had no other alternative, not having brought any other dresses. Your friend insisted on going clubbing anyway, desperately wanting to finally get him off your mind for one night at least.

The other drivers were loud and happy and drunk and Lando sat next to them, staring at his already empty glass. He knew how this would go. At some point, either the drivers or one of their girls would tap his shoulder, saying they have a friend they think he would really like, and if he would like to be introduced to her. He would agree so they would finally keep their mouths shut, he would talk to the girl. Maybe they would kiss if he drank enough. Maybe he would take her home. Maybe he would think about you the whole time, maybe he would accidentally call her your name. Maybe he would wake up in the morning and would be happy that she‘d left, content with it only being a one-time thing and not meaning anything.

Because, in the end, nothing meant anything without you.

He pretended to laugh at the jokes of his friends, but really, none of this was fun to him. These nights were nothing more than a constant reminder of how he used to have his fun while you were waiting for him at home, cold and sad and alone. How could he be so stupid and leave you alone all the time? He doesn’t even know why he did it anymore. He yawned, very obviously not enjoying the party. Yes, it was nice seeing his friends so happy, the mood wasn’t as tense as it was around and on the track and the people inside the night club were vivid, dancing and drinking, seemingly having the time of their life downing countless beverages, but still, the happiness didn’t reach him.

“Dude, I think your girl‘s here.“ Oscar pushed him slightly, two vodka bull in hand for himself and Lily. Lando didn’t pay him any mind and rolled his eyes, not really in the mood for talking to any girl that isn’t you at the moment. Couldn’t they just give up? He wasn’t ready yet for someone else, he didn’t even know if he wanted to be with someone that isn’t you at all. Ever. Instead of arguing with Oscar about how he didn’t want to hear from any other girl right now, he went to get another drink as well.

He pushed through the dense crowd of people, navigating through the cacophony of laughter and piercing yelling that seemed to echo from all directions. The deafening loud music blasting through his ears made it difficult to focus, and the harsh sound of glass clunking together only added to it. The colorful LED lights rapidly switched from green to red to purple to yellow in a matter of seconds, creating a dizzying light show that overwhelmed his vision. This sensory onslaught of sounds, sights, and sensations overstimulated his senses, making each step forward feel like an effort.

Finally at his destination, he waited for the waiter or waitress, he wasn’t quite sure, to get his order. He wasn’t certain what his plan was that night at all. Sleeping around or not, you wouldn’t stop haunting his mind anyway, so was it really worth it? Getting drunk and trying to make his nights feel less lonesome? Or should he just wait and really focus on his carrer again until maybe, one day, you’d come back?

He ignored the possibilty of you not coming back at all.

He let his eyes wander around the scene unfolding in front of him, occasionally making eye contact with random girls who winked at him and tried to get his attention, but he didn’t pay them any mind. Frustration started to bubble up inside of him as the wait for his drink seemed to go on for forever, until suddenly, his heart skipped a beat.

Lando was certain that in a room full of people, he would always be able to notice you first. He pondered if it was you whenever he‘d walk by a girl with the same hair colour as you, immediately dismissing the thought when he saw a face that didn’t match yours just a second later. But this time, it was different. The hair ressembled yours without a doubt, and of course he remembered the dress he had bought for you so long ago; never once had he been able to keep his hands to himself when you wore it. The height matched you perfectly as well. But it couldn’t be you, right?

Oscar‘s words replayed in his mind and he finally understood what he meant. Who he meant.

It was really you.

You tried to enjoy the party, but you really weren’t doing so well. Your friend had left you near the bar, thinking you’d be hitting it off with a guy you’ve been talking to for some time, but that wasn’t the case. he left just five minutes after to go home, asking if you’d like to come with him. You denied, but your friend was nowhere to be found, having found someone in this club herself. It was scary being alone in a club full of drunk, intoxicated people, even more so when you sensed someone staring at you from behind. You didn’t have to worry about things like that when you were still with Lando, with him always stuck to your side, a protective arm hanging around your shoulders. you shuddered at the thought, and dared to turn around to find the very person who was looking at you so steadily.

And then you locked eyes.

The world suddenly went quiet. All the chaos, the noise, it all faded into the background, no sound to be heard other than the synchronised, rapid beating of your heart. It seemed as if the only two people in that room were you and him, only the void surrounding the two of you. The LEDs turned blue, engulfing you and him, the light accentuating your features and he couldn’t move even if he wanted to, stuck in a trance of what this could mean for him in the future; what this could mean for you both. Time seemed to stand still. He wanted to run to you, to hold you, to tell you how much he missed you, but his feet felt like they were glued to the floor. His breath hitched and so did yours, all the yearning, all the longing hitting you and him at lightspeed.

You walked towards him, each step filled with electricity. The tension was palpable, his mouth agape as you stood in front of him, only centimeters away from closing the gap between you. There was so much he wanted to say, so many things he wanted to apologize, so many things he wanted to make right, but he didn‘t dare to say things first, afraid too scare you off. The last thing he wanted is for you to leave him again.

“I didn‘t know you‘d be here, thought I‘d seen Oscar but I wasn‘t sure,“ you started, stumbling over your own words, laughing awkwardly, then biting your lip right after. He noticed, because you always did that when you were nervous; you’d done it too when you broke up with him. You wanted to blame it on the alcohol, but that would be a lie, one he could look right through of. You just couldn‘t process actually being in his presence again.

“You still wear the dress?“

“It‘s, uhm, quite pretty, so yeah.“ You nodded along to your own words, gulping at the tense and awkward silence right after, looking down at your shoes, the sight of him in this light still not leaving your mind. Maybe he didn‘t even feel the same way, maybe he didn‘t even want to talk to you. Maybe you already made a fool of yourself when you made your way over to him, maybe you really should‘ve just stayed at home. But at the same time, this is what you‘d hoped for this whole time. To finally see him again.

“I‘m so sorry for what I did to you, y/n, please believe me. E-Ever since you left, I couldn‘t stop thinking about you. Not once. I tried to move on, y‘know, would probably be better for you as well, ‘cause you deserve better than how I‘ve treated you at the end and I don‘t want to have to put you through that again but I just- I miss you so much, I don‘t know what to do! And now you‘re here and I swear I‘ve been waiting for a moment like this and-,“ he stopped for a second, heavy and shaky breaths filling the silence, „If giving up racing means you‘ll let me come back to you, I‘ll do it.“

Your teary eyes widened and you looked up at him again, staring into his. One could take it as an empty promise. But you knew better than anyone else that Lando wasn’t one to joke about racing, ever. “Lando you can’t just- I- I mean, racing? It didn‘t work before Lan I just- don‘t give up your dreams for me, please? You shouldn‘t, you have so much ahead of you still,“ you sighed out, every single part of your body overwhelmed like never before.

But Lando was certain. He traced every yet so small feature of your face and body with his eyes, and he knew in that exact moment that, no matter what, he could never lose you again. Not this time. Not when fate hat somehow brought you together once again, giving him a second chance to make it all better. Question was now if you’d let him have that second chance too.

He lifted his hand to gently wipe away the tear running down your cheek, having you lean into his familiar touch. “I’ll do it for you”, he said, and that was when you broke apart, legs feeling numb and wobbly suddenly. Tears streamed down your face as you took another step forward and he wrapped his arms around your body out of reflex, gently placing soft kisses on top of your head, tearing up as well as your cried into his chest.

Maybe it was bad, maybe you shouldn’t feel like this again, but you’ve never once after the breakup felt as at peace with yourself and your as you did now, even if you were in a loud and busy club, surrounded by drunk and high people. You managed to push them to the back of your mind, the familiar scent of Lando’s perfume calming your senses. It felt like home. Maybe he really did owe you something, and though you once were anguished because of it, you wouldn’t ever deprive him of the joy of racing. There would be a way through it without having to abandon any of your or his dreams. There must be if you want it to work out, and you were sure that this time, it would. And so was he.

Lando took you home with him that night, not before you shot your friend a quick text message, afraid she might think you were kidnapped or whatnot. You knew that you’d have to fly home again in two days. He knew that too, but there was no need to rush things anyway. You were still his and he was still yours, and that’s all that mattered for now. It’s gonna be weird explaining this to your friends and your family, but neither of you minded it as long as it meant you could be with each other again. You would have to talk things through and see how you’d manage the race weekends and the events and the media - but not now. Now, with you calmly and lightly snoring in his arms, he didn’t care about any of that, simply content with having you again.

He promised you before you drifted off into your tranquil slumber that he will make it right this time. He will be there for you no matter what, he will defend you and take you with him and show you off and love you like already should have done all these months ago. This time, he will put in the work and the appreciation and the effort, and then, you will finally be able to be the greatest.

❝ I’d like to mean it when I say I’m over you, but that’s still not true. ❞

taglist for part 2 of the greatest : @mrs-saturday @tylerstacobell @angeltroian @acesbakery @directioner5life @malynn @escuellasceramicdollie @strangetoadroadbat @norrisdriver @aliceisnuts @carlando4 @f1fantasys @no-144444 @belivisa @callsignwidow @cruzgrecia @ifsoniacouldfly @wony6ung @hurtblossom @faeriepigeons @interlagos @xnatqq @fanficweasley @youreintheclubb @chaimaarouaine11 @idgasb @cruzgrecia @madstxo @trisharee (basically everyone who commented vv sorry if you didn’t want to be tagged!)

Baby Ricciardo

MV33 X Ricciardo!reader

Sorry this took me ages to post! Pictures are not mine and credit is given to those who took/edited them. Also this is in no way meant to represent any of the real life people- they are their own person and have their own relationships. Also, I know there is the controversy over Max and Kelly but I think they are the cutest so I couldn't write her poorly! This is all fake lol.

Summary: Daniel sister's does the ultimate sin and falls in love with her brother's best friend. Years of pining and other disastrous relationships play out.

Max was nervous.

Not something that happened when he was in the cock pit of the car, no, that was natural for him and didn’t phase him one bit.

What made him nervous was definitely when he first laid his eyes on Daniel’s younger sister hanging out in the Red Bull garage.

Laughing with an engineer and fixing her hair that was tied up with a red bow, dressed down in jeans and a Red Bull shirt.

He was only eighteen and she was gorgeous.

For some reason Max never expected Daniel to have any siblings, he definitely gave only child energy from him—but boy was he wrong.

And it couldn't be a brother to make his life easier, he had to have a sister, a painfully beautiful one at that.

When Daniel first introduced him to you, he was all but speechless as you flashed him a perfect smile and told him he was a natural born driver and gave your brother a run for his money.

Both in talent and in his abrasive demeanor.

Max blushes and he left the race having a new crush.

—

Baku 2018 was the next time that you actually had time to travel to a race, finally being able to step away from your studies. Daniel had been begging you to take some time off to come see him during his busy schedule.

There were promises of flying first class and a place in the Red Bull garage, and you couldn't say no to your older brother.

Everything was going fine, until you could feel the shift of energy in the garage, and by the looks of it, Dan and Max were fighting it out on track.

Not in a friendly competition way, a way that looked like they were trying to kill the other.

"What the hell is he doing?" You heard one of the engineers whisper as you watching the chaos playout on the screen in front of you. Max was aggressively defending against Daniel.

Fuck. You knew Dan enough to see how this would play out. Your brother would refuse to let up on Max, and Max was naturally aggressive on the track. Hungry for the win, even to the detriment of his own team.

Watching in horror as Dan crashed into the back of Max's car, sending them both of the track with smoke behind them.

The shit definitely hit the fan with the two of them, and the look on Christian's face as he walked away from the pitwall let you know that the two of them would be getting quite the stern talking to and that was putting it lightly.

"Those shits, they are fucking ageing me I swear, Goddamit." The team principle spat out, rubbing at his head, no doubt having a major migraine setting in.

"I'm going to medical," you told him. Not wanting to cause him anymore stress.

Dan was the first person you saw, wrapping him in a big hug, you sighed out of relief. Letting go of him you did a once over, just to be sure that the medical team hadn’t missed a cut.

“I’m glad you’re okay. It looked intense.”

“If anything, he got the worst of it.” Dan stressed the word he, like Max was the devil and saying his name would curse him.

“I’m sure he did, but this is on both of you.” You stressed, patting him on the shoulder and went to leave him. Ready to make your next stop.

“Where are you going?” He questioned. Eyebrows raised and dark eyes questioning you, looking irritated that you weren't going to stay by his side until he was cleared.

“To see Max, idiot. I care about both of you and you guys are making it so hard for me.”

“You’re my sister.” He said, because family should come before his teammate, but at the end of the day he knew that he was being dramatic--he was the only true adult in the situation.

“And he’s my friend. At least play nice. He could be your future brother in law on day.” You winked and quickly left, listening to him sputter in shock and slight disgust.

God, Daniel could only imagine the pair the two of you would actually make if you officially started dating—or even admitted to having feelings for one another.

They would give him a run for his money, and he would probably start balding from stress.

—

While Max and Daniel’s friendship grew, so did yours. However, it was only a matter of time until your brother decided to make his exit from Red Bull to a new team.

Max, although young, was starting to be the priority of Red Bull and your brother wasn’t made to be a second driver. He was made to win and he couldn’t do that with Max getting priority treatment.

Surprisingly, when Dan left Red Bull the prior teammates friendship only got stronger.

Dan went to Renault and Pierre filled his seat.

Pierre was nice enough and was always friendly towards you, but was always confused when he found you in the Red Bull garage chatting happily to Max and not with your brother a few garages over.

He was never the biggest fan of Max, and couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that a beautiful girl would listen to Max rant endlessly about the rear wing.

Pierre found it even more strange that you would alternated teams each race weekend to make sure you showed supports to both Dan and Max. He was even more confused when he called you Max’s girlfriend and you just laughed and shook your head.

Charles informed him later on that the two of you were in fact ‘just friends’. The eye roll Charles gave confirmed that the two of you were just oblivious idiots.

You would find yourself after races heading back to Max’s hotel to order room service and play fifa.

“And did you-“ Max interrupted what you were going to say next, rolling his eyes and answering the question you hadn’t even finished asking.

“Yes," he huffed, almost offended that you would even ask him. "I got you a burger and fries, no onion or lettuce. And yes I got you extra ketchup.” Max watched proudly as you smiled and practically glowed at him memorizing your order.

“You’re the best.”

You resisted the urge to lean over and kiss him. God, you wanted so badly to. But what would Daniel think? What would the fans think if they ever found out?

“And the best driver.” Max said proudly.

You rolled your eyes at his statement. “Ahh, I resent you for that.”

Max froze, like he had forgotten that Daniel had left the team because of him. One that had been his family before Max all but came in and ruined it.

“Hey—" you put a reassuring hand on his arm. "I’m only joking. I know the sport is cutthroat. He doesn’t blame you.”

It was a shit situation, and shitty things happened all the time to good people. You were just happy that Dan had a seat and was able to continue doing what he loved.

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat, uncomfortable by the conversation.

“Seriously, Max. It’s not your fault and neither of us blame you.” You added on, making sure that he knew that you and Dan still appreciated him.

Did it suck that Dan had to leave the team he always wanted to win a championship with? Yes. But life isn’t always fair and in motor sports it was even worse.

“You know, that…yeah. Thank you.” He said, almost looking nervous, like for some reason you would even think about never speaking to him again because Dan decided on his own accord to leave.

A knock at the door drew your attention away from him.

“For what it’s worth, Red Bull is still my favorite team.” You winked and kissed him on the cheek, hopping up from the bed to grab the room service from the front door.

—

You were twenty-two now, and Max had a girlfriend who was much older than both of you and had a kid. One who was impossibly adorable.

You tried to hate Kelly, but it was impossible. She was beautiful, sweet, and always tried to involve you in any conversation she was having to make you feel more comfortable when the photographers were obviously taking photos of the both of you.

“Are you okay?” Kelly placed a gentle hand on your arm. Noticing that you were all but glued to the spot you were standing, as stiff as a statue watching the bright lights flash at you and people call out questions to both you and Kelly.

“Yeah, I...yeah. Is it always this weird for you?” You tilted your head to the photographers and she just smiled a little sadly at you.

Obviously, you were photographed with Daniel and even the occasional picture of you and Max made it to publication, but you were not use to having grown men constantly follow you down the paddock and ask what you were wearing.

You didn’t necessarily enjoy it, and don’t know how Kelly put up with it, but her father was famous and she was probably raised for this. Plus it helped that she was effortlessly gorgeous and dressed in designer from head to toe.

But you were always a little too awkward and not always photogenic. Plus, it was obvious by your outfit choice that you were not planning on having unwanted attention on you. It would be embarrassing to see you dressed in an oversized Enchanté, jean shorts, and Birkenstock sandals, coffee in hand, next to Kelly who was gracefully wearing a vintage Chanel.

“Yeah, it is but Max usually tells them to fuck off.” Kelly chuckles at the choice of words Max uses to tell the paparazzi off, and you wouldn't expect anything less from him.

You also laugh. “Of course, he hates that shit. I know when they get P in photos he’s even more pissed.”

Kelly watched as your eyes lit up talking about how caring her boyfriend was to watch after P, and how you only ever had kind words to say about Max. Even when his actions were controversial.

She knew that look. It was the same look she had for Max before they officially got together.

—

Max found you behind the garage, a frown on your face and seriously looking at your phone. You only had that look at your face when you were fighting via text.

“Boy troubles?” Max bumped his shoulder against yours. Watching as you furiously texted on your phone. Large paragraphs showing up on your screen from both you and the person on the other side.

You let out a heavy sigh.

“You could say that.”

“Give it here. Let me see.” Max said reaching out for your phone, reluctantly you handed it over.

Watching closely as he scrolled up, eye brows furrowing at the messages.

“This fucker talks to you like shit,” Max said. Handing the phone back to you.

You avoided his gaze, knowing that he was in fact right. Your current boyfriend had been treating you like shit for ages but you figured it was easier to stay than leave.

“Yeah, but I-“

“Does Daniel know?” Max asked, because there is no way your older brother would let this treatment fly.

“No, obviously--Dan would kill him.” You stated the obvious. "I'll handle it myself."

“Good! You don’t deserve this. I hope you know that you deserve better.”

“Max, we’re headed out. You coming?” Kelly waked over to where the two of you were standing behind the Red Bull garage to get a moment of privacy.

She kept her distance from where you two were standing, like she didn't belong and didn't know what to do.

You pushed any thought of Max out of your mind, he was just a friend. Your brother's best friend, and his girlfriend was standing just a few feet away.

“Yeah, one second.”

Max kisses you on the top of your head. In a friendly way-because of course it would never be anything more than that.

“Seriously, don’t let him treat you like that. Or he’ll have to deal with me.” You laughed at the terrible wink he threw your way.

Kelly watched the interaction and patiently waiting for Max to join before they left for the night.

Taking a moment to think it over, you sent an “it’s over” text and blocked the assholes number.

Max was right, he usually was.

—

Holy shit, watching the impact of Max into the barrier had you holding your breath, hands shaking from the anxiety of him not responding to any radio calls and not making any movement to get from the car.

You felt the PR manager grab your arm in a painful grip. The two of you rarely spoke, but everyone in the garage was holding their breath waiting for a response on the other end.

They called out for Max again over the radio.

Silence.

Tears threatened to fell from your eyes. There was no way he co-

The sound of painful groaning came over the system, like all the air in his lungs had been knocked out and he was gasping desperately trying to catch his breath.

Your hands covered your mouth, tears of relief falling from your eyes.

“Fuck. Oh my god.” You voice in relief, not wanting to even mention for a moment that you didn’t think he was getting out of the car alive.

“Danny-“ You said, barely able to whisper his name. He stopped you mid sentence, seeing the terrified look in your eyes.

“Let’s go, I’ll drive us.”

It took over an hour for the two of your to arrive to the hospital. Max telling you that the two of you didn’t need to come, and you just rolled your eyes. Because where else would you be?

“51 Gs and a concussion. Maybe a broken rib?” He gave you guys the same information the doctor gave him.

“Yeah, no shit. Your head hit the tire barrier.” Daniel rolled his eyes, use to Max’s usual cold exterior when he was injured. Not wanting any sympathy from those around him.

Like he saw it as some kind of weakness.

“You need to drive more safe.” You pointed you finger at him accusingly.

“Sure, like it was my fault.” He rolled his eyes with attitude. Wincing when he moved to adjust on the bed, his head felt heavy and the room looked hazy.

"Ugh," he groaned, closing his eyes to try to stop the oncoming nausea. Your heart pangs with worry, which quickly turned to anger.

“Don’t get an attitude with me. Both you and Lewis need to check your egos! I swear to God if you die being fucking stupid, I'll resurrect you to kill you myself."

Daniel wasn’t surprised by your random burst of anger, it happened anytime that Max put himself into a dangerous situation.

There was a knock on the door, Kelly was here.

“Oh,uh-“ you moved away from Max’s bedside.

Kelly stepped over to comfort Max and you backed up. Not wanting to get between their interactions. Because if he was your boyfriend, you would be wanting to make sure he was okay.

But you two were just…friends.

“We were just leaving. Feel better, Maxie.” Daniel said.

Max gave the two of you a weak wave as you exited the room. Noticing how you didn’t even say goodbye to him.

—

“Oh my god, oh my god. Holy shit!” You were jumping up and down watching Max finish the race and becoming world champion. Beating Lewis, but just barely.

You could hear Max yelling throw the radio and Kelly was clapping excitedly.

“He did it.” A singular tear ran down your face and the team went to go meet Max to celebrate.

With respect, Kelly went first and kissed him on the helmet. The team slapping his ass while he passed them making his way over to you. Were you were practically buzzing with excitement.

“You fucker! Oh my god!” You yelled, throwing yourself into his arms. He lifted you off the ground in the tightest hug, arms wrapping firmly around your waist.

“Look at you. World champ, huh?”

“Yeah. Shit, I can’t fucking believe it.” You figured tears were still running down your face when his gloved thumb lifted to wipe them from your face.

He placed you back on your feet and you gave him a light punch to the chest. Max faltered, not knowing what to do next.

The moment was oddly intimate and the world was watching. All cameras focused on Max. This was his time.

If you were his girlfriend, you would be kissing him. Your eyes lingered on his lips a little too long, but you came to when realizing that there were multiple cameras to pick up the interaction.

The last thing you needed was speculation on social media about the two of you. Well…more than there already was.

You cleared your throat to speak up.

“Go see your girl, champ.”

—

Twenty-four and you were standing awkwardly at the bar waiting to order a drink. The club was loud and packed of people here to celebrate Max.

He just turned twenty-five and was celebrating yet another championship.

You watched as Lando took cute photos of Max and Kelly with flowers that he bought for her. It was sweet that he always wanted to celebrate her even when it was a party for him. He was selfless like that. No one ever treated you like that, like you were priceless.

And seeing the way he kissed her pulled at your heart in a weird way, and now you desperate needed more alcohol in your system.

“Hey sis, why the long face?” Daniel strolled over to where you were standing looking at the stressed look on your face and how you uncomfortably shifted from one foot to the other.

When he walked up he saw the look on your face when you say Max and Kelly were already all over each other in the VIP section.

“It’s too loud and I just want a fucking shot!” You huffed, irritated and slightly overwhelmed.

“Woah,woah.” He held up his hands defensively. He hadn’t expected you to lash out like that. It was out of your character, but you were a little drunk after all.

“Is it because-“ Dan started to ask but was cut off by a bone crushing hug you were receiving. He smiled watching two of his favorite people interact.

“You’re here! I didn’t think you were going to make it pass the pregame at Lando’s! He told me you drank three bottles of champagne.”

Max squeezed you once again and let you go, giving you a one over. The only sign that you were even remotely drunk, other than your slight irritability was the red cheeks and nose that always gave you away.

“The lady would like three shots of tequila.” Max asked the bartender.

Daniel wrinkled his nose at the order.

“That’s not just for me right?” Your stomach churning at the idea of doing three tequila shots. You would surely be spending quality time with the hotel toilet tonight.

“No, it’s for all of us. Drink up, Dan!”

The three of you downed the shots.

Multiple more followed that same night and you found yourself outside the club seeking some fresh air.

“I think I love him,” you whispered. Like saying it too loud would scare you or Max would hear your secret confession, but he had left you with Daniel hours earlier to prioritize Kelly and antagonize Charles.

Dan wrapped you in a safe hug and put his chin on top of your head.

“I know.”

—

“Now, Daniel,” the interviewer looked at where he was standing on the stage in front of hundreds of fans. Max on one side and Checo and Yuki on the other.

He waited for the question to come.

“How do you feel about the close relationship Max has with your sister?”

A picture of you and Max pulled up on the large screen. It was from a trip you all took to Italy four years ago.

You were sitting next to Max on the yacht he had rented for the trip. His arm wrapped around your shoulder and pressing a firm kiss to your cheek. Your hand placed on his cheek.

The picture definitely made you two look more than friendly with one another and it didn’t help that he and Kelly had just split up a few months ago after two years together.

She never made a public statement and neither did Max, it seemed to be one of the more admissible splits between any of the drivers and their significant others.

It seemed to be mutual decision but the media would never believe that. They wanted to make you the villain in this story, and it irritated Daniel.

“Yeah, it doesn’t bother me. They had been close for years and have always been good friends.”

“Yes, but—“

Max interrupted the interviewer and anyone could tell he was pissed.

“I don’t know why my personal life is being brought up and out on screen. It has nothing to do with racing, ask us about that or don’t speak.”

—

“It’s fucked up, pissed me off. Daniel should’ve just told them to fuck off.” Max said heatedly, sitting behind you on the new sofa he had just gotten for his apartment.

You say cross legged in front oh him on the floor. Picking at a piece of the carpet to entertain yourself. Sassy was cuddled up sleeping in your lap and you refused to move. This was the first time in years that she had shown you any affection.

Jimmy however, was a daddy’s boy, sitting behind Max on the edge of the sofa softly flicking his tail happily back and forth, occasionally tickling the back of Max’s neck when the soft fur brushed against it.

Max gave Kelly all the things she had picked out for he to decorate her new place with, so it called for new furniture, and he didn’t have particularly good taste in well…much of anything.

“Come on, it’s not like...you know—“ you tried to spit out that it wasn’t weird for the media to ask, they have been for years. Even when he was with his ex.

“Know what?”

“You know.” You stressed. Now Max was just even more confused.

“No I don’t.”

“Know that I-“ you pause, trying to gain some confidence to confess what you had been holding back for years. “That I like you. You moron.”

Max’s mouth dropped open a little, like he didn’t know. And that this was his first time ever hearing about it. Like you hadn’t been giving him the most obvious heart eyes for the past ten years.

“I..” and before you could fully prepare yourself he leaned forward and grabbed your face in his hands. Pulling you in for a passionate kiss that you had waited too long for.

He tasted like cinnamon.

The angle that he was kissing you at hurt your neck, but you couldn’t care less.

He pulled away and gave you the sweetest smile.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?I would’ve done that years ago.”

Now it was your turn to be shocked.

You hit his knee in playful irritation.

“I figured it was pretty fucking obvious.” You shot back a playful smile on your face. How could he honestly not tell? Especially when you were younger and followed him around like a puppy.

You even stayed in the Red Bull garage to support him when Dan left. You figured he would’ve known and just didn’t care.

"I just--I thought you knew."

Max, if anything, felt more clueless than he ever did in his entire life.

Of course you liked him after all this time. Each birthday you remembered, each surprise gift you gave him, coming to see him after a bad race just to sit in silence and watch cartoons.

Only someone who truly loved another person would do that. And that person was you.

You were his person.

—

"Max, who is that?" Leclerc pulled Max's attention away from the crowd he was currently waiving at on the drivers parade, to the phone screen that was brightly lit up in his left hand.

He had changed the photo a few weeks ago to one that you had sent to him. Wrapped up in one of his sweaters and smiling brightly at the camera.

He had taken it one night when you were just relaxing out of his patio, offering you his sweater when you got cold. It was oddly domestic for you two, but felt so normal at the same time.

"Fuck- that's baby Ricciardo?" The Ferrari driver whispered, catching a better look at the photo, a shit eating grin pulling across his lips. "I knew it."

"Yeah, yeah--" Max nervously scratched at the back of his neck, but Charles wasn't letting him out of the conversation that easily.

"It's about fucking time. Pierre told me that you two have been in love for a long time.”

Curse Pierre and his need to tell Charles everything.

“I’m happy for you.” Charles clapped his hand on Max’s shoulder. “But does Daniel know?”

“Of course. He was the first to know. She wouldn’t have lied to him.” Max admitted shyly.

Daniel had been ecstatic when the two of you fessed up to dating. Although the two of you would no doubt drive him insane, there was no one that could make his sister happier than Max.

Max was a good guy and Daniel had always seen that.

Charles smiled. It was nice to see that he was happy and finally realized that the two of you were a perfect match.

A text came through on Max’s phone screen, taking his attention away from Charles.

baby: good luck today champ. I love you!

Champ🏆: I love you too. See you when I get home.

PUPPY LOVE ★ CS55

PAIRING ✦ carlos sainz x fem!dog sitter!reader SUMMARY ✦ you work as a dog sitter, and you somehow wind up dog-sitting for a f1 driver. [ SMAU ]

WARNINGS ✦ cursing

NOTES ✦ reader lives in spain & can speak spanish, but isn't originally from spain ( you can decide where! ) i'm not a native spanish speaker, so please correct me if there are some inconsistencies! i know the dog i used for piñon isn't exactly accurate but please just pretend they look the same!! the fc i've used is christina nadin, but feel free to picture whoever you want! my requests are open so feel free to leave a request :)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

liked by yourbsf, user1, and 205 others

yourusername i loveee my job 🐕💗

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yourbsf i think you love the dogs more than you love me

yourusername you'd be right about that ❤️

yourbsf mi mejor amigaaaa!! ( my best friend )

yourusername te amoooo💗 ( i love you )

user1 millie loveddd you! i'd love for you to sit for me again!

yourusername awww i loved millie too! thank you so so muchh 💗

carlossainz55

( caption: need a dog sitter! please reply with recommendations. must be located in Spain & can look after Piñon for just over a week )

yourbsf holaaa! my best friend is a dog sitter, and i'm sure she'd be happy to look after Piñon for you!

carlossainz55 That would be great! Could i have her instagram?

yourbsf sorry still in shock you actually replied LOL, it's @ yourusername!

carlossainz55 Muchas gracias!! ( thank you very much )

liked by yourbsf, carlossainz55, and 487 others

yourusername i look after a lot of dogs, but you will forever be my top bitch ( pun very much intended ) feliz cumpleaños daisy!! mami te quiere mucho 💗 ( happy birthday daisy!! mommy loves you very much )

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yourbsf FELIZ CUMPLEAÑOS DAISYYY!!

liked by yourusername

carlossainz55 Daisy es muyyy linda ❤️ ( daisy is veryyy cute )

yourusername siiii!! ( yessss!! )

user2 OMG CARLOS??

user3 SIR WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE

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INSTAGRAM DMS

carlossainz55 Hey this is y/n, right?

yourusername NO WAY THEEE CARLOS SAINZ IS DMING ME

but yes it is :) anything i can help you with?

carlossainz55 Your friend mentioned that you were a dog sitter?

@/yourbsf

yourusername yeah i am a dog sitter!! did you need someone to look after ur dog?

carlossainz55 Yeah I did, actually!

I was wondering if you could look after my dog Piñon for the week? I’m going to be away, and my parents are away so they can't look after him right now

yourusername OH MY GOD YES

i'm so sorry that reaction was so out of character 😭😭 but yes i'd love to look after him!

carlossainz55 Muchas gracias! I'll message you further details later if that's alright?

yourusername ningún problema! yeah that's fine with me! :) ( no problem! )

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carlossainz55

( caption: Missing you already Piñon!! ❤️ )

yourusername

( caption: new best friend unlocked 🔓 )

carlossainz55 Umm he's actually my best friend??

yourusername nuh uh i've claimed him while you're away ❤️❤️

liked by yourbsf, carlossainz55, and 1,062 others

tagged carlossainz55

yourusername my latest charge is wayyy too cute 💗

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yourbsf can’t pick who’s cuter: you or piñon

yourusername we both know it’s piñon ❤️❤️

user4 wait who is sheee??

user5 carlos is in her likes!! i’m pretty sure that’s piñon she’s dog sitting ❤️

user6 whoever she is she is stunninggg!!

carlossainz55 Good to see that you’re looking after Piñon!

yourusername geniallll!! ( brilliantttt!! )

liked by yourbsf, carlossainz55, and 10,456 others

tagged yourbsf & carlossainz55

yourusername life recently 🪩

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user12 she is literally a goddessss!!

yourusername aw thank you baby!!

user13 y/n why do you look so angry in the first photo HELP

yourusername can’t remember but i think @/yourbsf had stolen some of my soft serve :(

user14 does she speak spanish??

yourusername when i was younger i moved to spain, so i can speak spanish fairly well!

user14 omg i can speak spanish asw!! eres tan bonita por cierto 💕 ( you are so pretty by the way )

yourusername muchas gracias!! 💗💗

user15 no daisy?? ☹️

yourusername daisy content will be returning, i promise!!

carlossainz55 ❤️

yourusername 💗💗

user16 stop theyre sooo cute i can’t handle it

yourbsf that pasta was so delicioussss

yourusername siii!!

user17 her replying to pretty much all of the comments is the cutest thing everrr she’s such a sweetheart

liked by yourusername

liked by yourusername, charlesleclerc, and 967,599 others

carlossainz55 Training almost over 🤝

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charlesleclerc new season about to start 🏎️

carlossainz55 Yess 👊

scuderiaferrari exciting times ahead!

liked by carlossainz55

user18 woweeee

user19 hand in marriage yes or yes??

user20 i’m waiting for y/n’s comment

user21 sameee!!

yourusername that viewwww 💗

carlossainz55 The mountains or me??

yourusername don’t flatter urself hon 😊

user20 @/user21 HERE THEY ARE

user21 THEIR DYNAMICCC UGH

liked by yourbsf, carlossainz55, and 12,567 others

tagged carlossainz55

yourusername last day w piñon ☹️💗 ft daisy!!

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user22 DAISY'S BACKKKK

user23 amamos a daisyyy!! ( we love daisyyy!! )

yourusername siii!! 💗

user24 ella es tan perfecta 💞 ( she is so perfect )

yourusername no tuuuuu 💗 ( no youuuu )

carlossainz55 Only one more day!❤️

yourusername ur saying that like it's a good thing :((

carlossainz55 You can always come and visit him!

user25 dont ask me why but i just KNOW she smells like vanilla

yourusername no stopp that's literally my perfume scent asw

user25 NO WAYYY LOOLLL

user26 @/carlossainz55 you taking notes??

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tagged carlossainz55

yourusername PIÑONNN!! ¡daisy y yo hemos pasado el mejor momento contigo esta semana! te amoooo 💗💗 ( daisy and i had the best time with you this week! i love you )

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user31 NO MORE Y/N AND PIÑON CONTENT NOOOO

yourusername ☹️☹️

user32 okay but surely this isn't the end of carlos and y/n...right?? RIGHT??

user33 no it acc can't be i'll never stop crying.

carlossainz55 Thanks again for looking after Piñon!! ❤️

yourusername ofccc!! you WILL let me visit him or else 😁

yourbsf okay but ur cute.

yourusername you're cuterrrr

user34 guysss this isn't the end i'm so sure they'll still be interacting w each other!!

liked by yourbsf, carlossainz55, and 20,005 others

yourusername night away from the dogs 🌃

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user35 CARLOS CAN YOU FIGHT.

user36 hand in marriage?? 💍

yourusername betttt!! 💗

yourbsf MY BEST FRIEND LADIES AND GENTLEMEN

yourusername TE AMOOOO

carlossainz55 ❤️❤️

liked by yourusername

user37 SO WE ALL SAW CARLOS' COMMENT??

user38 TWO WEEKS ON AND HE'S BACK AGAIN

user39 idc they're too cute

liked by yourbsf, carlossainz55, and 25,922 others

yourusername 📍bahrain 💗

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user45 THE FERRARI MERCH SHE KNOWS WHAT SHE'S DOING

user46 she's soo soft i love her

yourusername 💗💗

user47 SO IT'S BASICALLY CONFIRMED NOW

user48 the press have literally basically confirmed it for them, we're all just waiting until they say it themselves

yourbsf my best frienddddd 😁😁

liked by yourusername

carlossainz55 Red suits you ❤️

user49 HURRY UP AND ANNOUNCE IT PLEASE.

liked by yourusername, charlesleclerc, and 1,456,991 others

tagged yourusername

carlossainz55 🏆 P3!! Great start to the season, and no one else I'd rather start it with ❤️

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user50 EVERYONE STAY CALM THIS IS FINALLY HAPPENING.

user51 BRB CURRENTLY SCREAMING

user53 PODIUM FINISH & HARD LAUNCH?? SOOO HAPPY RN.

user54 CARLOS SAINZZZZ ❤️❤️

yourusername 💗💗

carlossainz55 ❤️

user55 THE WAY SHE USES 💗 AND HE USES ❤️ MY HEART CAN'T HANDLE THIS

charlesleclerc about time 🙌❤️

user56 HA CHARLES IS A REAL ONE

user57 officially my favorite couple on the grid.

liked by yourbsf, carlossainz55, and 45,219 others

tagged carlossainz55

yourusername forza ferrari 💗

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user58 hey alexa, play lover by taylor swift

yourusername omg i love taylor 💗💗

user59 if carlos ever fumbles you pls hit my line

yourusername @/carlossainz55 you've been warned!!

user60 POWER COUPLE ALERT

user61 she's actually so perfect it's scary

yourbsf FINALLY. I'VE BEEN WAITING.

liked by yourusername

user62 KILL ME NOW THEY ARE ADORABLE.

user63 the way she still likes all of the comments actually has me crying why is she the cutest.

carlossainz55 siempre ❤️ ( always )

liked by yourusername

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fever dream | sebastian vettel

part 2 part 3

warnings: toxic soon to be ex husband who cheats on reader (if i miss anything, let me know!!)

INSTAGRAM (private account)

liked by lewishamilton, yoursistersaccount and 24 others

yourusername a short trip back home 🤍

lewishamilton enjoy it!

yourusername thanks lew! miss you and roscoe 🤍

lewishamilton roscoe and i miss you more

yoursistersaccount it’s great to have you home

yourusername 🤍 love you

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“luke, alison! your aunt y/n is here!” your sister yelled as she opened the door to her home. in a matter of seconds, loud footsteps were heard running down the stairs. “no running!”

but still the kids didn’t listen, they were excited to see their aunt. “hey, my babies! oh my god, you two have grown so much. stop growing!” you hugged your niece and nephew.

“i’m almost as tall as mom!” alison, the younger sister, said.

“liar, that’s just what dad says to make you feel better. i’m going to grow more than you and then i’ll be taller than you.” luke teased.

“you both can be tall, but never as tall as me.” you joked as you placed a kiss on their cheeks.

“are you going to stay with us forever?” alison asked innocently. “dad said that you don’t want to stay with your husband anymore and you’re going to stay with us.”

“alison!”

the truth was hard for little kids to understand. yes, you were going to stay with your sister for a few days and yes, you didn’t want to stay with your husband anymore, but it was a bit more complicated than that. your husband had cheated, lied, manipulated you and you had enough. he was the reason you couldn’t come back to the sport you loved and worked your whole life for.

“well i am going to be staying here, but not forever. i just needed a break from him, it’s normal.” you tried to explain to the girl.

“but my mom and dad don’t take breaks?”

“alison, just go to your room, you too luke, please. dinner is going to be ready in an hour.” your sister said, feeling embarrassed that alison would ask those questions.

“what did i do?” the older boy whines as he and his sister walked up to their rooms.

“i’m sorry. i spoke to jack the night you called. we were cleaning up the table after dinner, i assume she heard.” your sister explained.

“it’s okay, they’ll understand when they’re older. not everyone is cut out to be loved . . .”

or a mother.

only a few people had known about your issues with infertility, your sister and lewis being two of them. after you retired from f1, you were sure that in a couple months, you were going to be busy with doctor’s appointments, buying baby clothes and building a crib, but none of that happened. after a year of trying, you were convinced you weren’t meant to be a mom.

you thought about returning to the track, after all many drivers returned after saying they were retiring, why couldn’t you? but that plan was spoiled by the man you thought loved you.

“you can’t go back, you don’t belong there. it’s a man’s sport. you’re probably going to crash in the first lap anyways.”

you didn’t know why you stayed with him, but you did. maybe it was the promises he kept telling you about or the hopefulness that one day you would become parents and maybe he would change. but again, none of that happened.

“um, i have to call someone. i’ll be right back. excuse me.” you told your sister as you walked to the patio door and exited the house. without hesitating, you clicked on a familiar contact. you held your phone against your ear and waited for the person on the other end to pick up. it felt like forever, but eventually they picked up the call.

“hello?”

ATLA / TLOK RECS .ᐟ

𖥔 ˑ ִ ֗ ִ ZUKO OF THE FIRE NATION

ᥫ᭡ everything happens for a reason

as a servant in the fire nation, you’ve learned that life is often unfair. but as you venture through a tumultuous relationship with a certain prince, you come to realize a very tricky lesson: everything happens for a reason.

ᥫ᭡ emerald flames

you’d been told you were lucky enough to be born in the fire nation and, more than that, lucky to be a bender. not by your parents, no, they’d instilled their sense of outrage and indignation right into you as soon as you were old enough to understand. only by teachers, school friends, and the odd family link were you condescendingly told to be grateful for your ability, and you'd put an end to that quickly enough.

in your mind, it was simple: you'd just stop bending. that way, no one in this wretched, impudent country would know, which meant no one could report about your wretched, impudent fortune, which, by extension, also meant that no one could have you fight in some wretched, impudent war.

and it worked... for a little while.

incidentally, fire prince zuko has some awfully quiet footsteps.

ᥫ᭡ your favorite worst nightmare

a skilled and intelligent bounty hunter with a mysterious past gets hired to finally hunt down and kill the avatar. but, instead of finding who she is looking for, she finds a stranger injured in the woods. this nomad, however, is not exactly the earth kingdom refugee he makes out to be.

ᥫ᭡ avatar: the last airbender

in hunting down the thieves that took the waterbending scroll from Y/N’s home, the north pole, she finds the avatar and his friends. travelling with them to return to the north pole, she goes on many adventures and decides she wants to stay with them and help them defeat the fire lord.

ᥫ᭡ where the sparks were cold

you are born and raised in the capital city of the northern water tribe, to an upper class family that allows a little bending of the rules. always a rebellious and fierce spirit, you've had a hard time growing up with the strict ideals your tribe has for girls.

luckily, things change for the better with the arrival of a legendary child monk and two of his friends. you discover you may have a way out of the life that strangles you and a chance to help change the world.

and along the way, you meet a certain exiled prince who makes your heart race, and helps you understand what it means to play with fire.

ᥫ᭡ she chose well

in times of war, fear runs wild and panic is quick to grip the hearts of individuals that let it. these are times when mothers turn against daughters, neighbors against neighbors, and entire nations are not privy to collapsing at the hands of terror.

and what better distraction to have than a dancer and her pet monkey?

ᥫ᭡ guidance

zuko finds a woman in the forest, she’s ready to help him and guide him through life. because she shares empathy with him about being not wanted.

ᥫ᭡ burning love

you’re a female thief, enemy of the fire nation, and partially on friendly terms with the earth kingdom. well, that is, until you teamed up with the former prince zuko, son of fire lord ozai. after seeing that he had split up from his uncle, you decided to join him on his journey to ba sing se, and a little romance forms during the trip.

ᥫ᭡ the unpredictable fire queen

fire lord zuko needed a wife, fast. you were the least tolerable of the bunch, so why not? he just didn't know what he was setting himself up for...

ᥫ᭡ rotations

Y/N grew up as a wealthy aristocrat. in this fic, Y/N realizes the negative affects her home has had on people all over the world. but she has a big decision to make: will she remain loyal to the one person she’s ever loved, or will she give up everything to do what’s right?

ᥫ᭡ best kind of medicine

all you wanted was for zuko to take better care of himself. 

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𖥔 ˑ ִ ֗ ִ SOKKA OF THE S. WATER TRIBE

ᥫ᭡ beneath the moon

Y/N never felt like she belonged in her home nation. after losing the most important person to her, she has to cope with the incident while also trying to figure out what her purpose in life is.

ᥫ᭡ secrets told in darkness

you and sokka get split up from the rest of the group after a sudden attack from the fire nation. staying overnight in a cave with him gives you plenty of time to discuss some disclosed feelings.

ᥫ᭡ councilman sokka

councilman sokka and Y/N L/N have been friends for a long time, even as they got their dream jobs in the republic. but then sokka realized that maybe friends wasn't enough for him. with his new feelings coming into play and an underground swimming pool, sokka knew he wasn't reading this wrong.

he was sure she liked him, too.

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𖥔 ˑ ִ ֗ ִ BOLIN & MAKO OF THE UNITED REPUBLIC

ᥫ᭡ reminiscence

Y/N shows up on mako’s doorstep with no memories of her past. the new team avatar knows exactly who she is, and not everyone is happy about having her back in republic city. plagued by questions, Y/N is desperate to find out what her past is, how she’s connected to team avatar, and why someone would take her memories away in the first place. 

████████▒▒ 80%

𖥔 ˑ ִ ֗ ִ IROH II OF THE FIRE NATION

ᥫ᭡ the unpredictable fire adventures

he was supposed to be the fire nation’s prince. you were supposed to be the fire nation’s top student. having never spoken before, you two end up on an adventure that neither of you planned. but he’s stuck with you, and you’re stuck with him on an adventure that's completely unpredictable.

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A C C E S S G R A N T E D. . .

ultr4vjolence © 2022 .ᐟ