"Always Bella IV" - Jacob Black X Reader

I’ll just keep it short and sweet. Through all the drama that happened somehow this happened. We’re not perfect but both of us are working to keep the relationship at bay even though we are not in the same school anymore.

Between the Laps

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Driver!Reader Enemies to Friends to...

Summary: When a rookie driver finds herself paired with the reigning champion Max Verstappen, sparks fly. Ambition clashes with undeniable chemistry, as their rivalry and relationship evolves throughout the intense F1 calendar.

Author's Note: Here it is, now just shy of 9k words! This fanfic is significantly longer and more narrative-driven than anything I’ve written on here so far. I really hope you all enjoy it, and I’d greatly appreciate any feedback you might have, thanks!

8.8k words / Masterlist

Race Weekend 1 – Bahrain Grand Prix

The paddock was alive with a low hum of tension and excitement, the air saturated with the distinct scent of burning rubber and gasoline.

You had been here before, in different categories as a rising talent in the motorsport world, but Formula 1 was a whole new arena. Walking through the Red Bull Racing garage you felt the weight of the world pressing down on you. This wasn’t just a race, it was your first F1 race weekend, and to top it off your teammate was none other than Max Verstappen, the reigning World Champion.

Max's reputation preceded him. The fierce competitor, a driver with an almost inhuman ability to push his car beyond the limits, appearing to be in a league of his own. Now he was your teammate or, more realistically, you were his teammate. It was his team, his title on the line, and you were just the rookie fresh to the team and to some extent an uninvited guest in his house.

As you stepped into the garage you caught a glimpse of Max. He was sitting with his usual air of intense concentration, eyes fixed on the telemetry data on his tablet as if he could solve every on-track issue with sheer force of will. His dirty blonde hair peeked out from under his cap. For a moment your eyes met, and a flicker of something passed between you. It wasn’t friendly. A short, curt nod was all he gave you before returning to his data, as if you were a distraction not worth his time.

You took a deep breath, trying to shake off the nerves gnawing at your insides. No one said this would be easy. Max was a World Champion, he didn’t have time for rookies.

Your debut race weekend came at you fast, a blur of press conferences, strategy meetings, and practice sessions. The eyes of the motorsport world were on you, and the pressure was immense. You had qualified a respectable eighth, but Max was on pole. It wasn’t just a gap in pace — it was a chasm. Still, for your first race it wasn’t bad, or at least that’s what you kept telling yourself.

Sunday, and the garage was bustling with energy, staff buzzing around like a well-oiled machine. Everyone knew their place. Everyone except you it seemed.

You were sitting in the team motorhome, staring at your race strategy when Max finally broke the silence between you.

“Nervous?” he asked, though the way he phrased it didn’t leave much room for a simple yes or no. His tone was casual, but his gaze remained laser-focused, almost challenging.

You looked up from your tablet, startled. He hadn’t said more than a few words to you all weekend. “Not particularly,” you replied, keeping your voice even.

Max’s lips quirked into a smirk, but there was no warmth in it. “Good. Nervous drivers make mistakes.”

You raised an eyebrow, unsure if this was advice or a thinly veiled insult. “I’ve been racing a long time Max.”

“This isn’t F2,” he replied smoothly.

“I know how to drive,” you shot back, feeling a flicker of irritation rise up inside you.

Max studied you for a moment as if weighing his next words carefully. “Sure. Just don't get in my way.”

And with that he stood up, grabbing his helmet and walking out of the motorhome without another word. You watched him go, your jaw clenched. He was right this wasn’t F2, but you weren’t going to let him dismiss you like someone who didn’t belong here.

The race itself was brutal. Max dominated from start to finish, winning with the same ruthless efficiency that had earned him the title. Meanwhile, you struggled. The car felt unbalanced, the tyres didn’t last as long as you’d hoped, and you made a few rookie mistakes costing you valuable positions. You finished with just one measly point, a disheartening tenth place.

As you walked back into the garage, still buzzing with the adrenaline of the race you could feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on you. Max was already there sitting with his engineers discussing his race. He didn’t acknowledge you, didn’t even glance in your direction.

You slumped into your chair, exhausted and frustrated. Everyone tried to cheer you up telling you it was a good effort for your first race, but the disappointment gnawed at you. You didn’t come here to finish tenth. You wanted to be on the podium, fighting for wins, not languishing in the midfield.

From across the garage, Max’s voice cut through the noise. He was talking to his race engineer, but his words stung as if they were meant directly for you.

“They need to focus on my initial concerns,” he said, his tone casual but firm. “We don’t have time to worry about the rookies issues right now.”

You clenched your fists, the frustration building. It wasn’t just about the race anymore. It was about proving that you belonged here, that you could stand toe-to-toe with him. Max might be the reigning champion, but you weren’t going to let him walk all over you.

Race Weekend 4 - Japanese Grand Prix Qualifying

You stormed into the garage ripping off your helmet in frustration. Your heart was still pounding, not just from the high-speed laps but from the seething anger simmering under your skin. No matter how much you pushed yourself, Max was always one step ahead. The gap felt minimal, fractions of a second, but it might as well have been a canyon.

Max was already there, cool and composed, his pole position nothing out of the ordinary. He was talking with one of the engineers, a slight smirk tugging at his lips like he had already forgotten about the rest of the field. About you.

You could feel your blood boiling. The way he acted so untouchable, so certain of his superiority. Without thinking you marched toward him, your voice sharper than you intended.

"What's your secret Verstappen?" you asked, sarcasm dripping from every word. "Is it the car, or just pure luck?"

Max glanced over his shoulder, his expression unbothered. He raised an eyebrow that infuriating smirk growing. "Luck? Is that what you're going with?"

You crossed your arms, glaring at him. "I’m just trying to figure out how someone so smug manages to stay on top."

He turned to face you fully now, a look of mild amusement playing across his features. "Maybe it's not that complicated. Maybe I’m just better."

The arrogance in his voice was like fuel to the fire, and you took a step closer, your jaw clenched. "Or maybe you’re just used to coasting because no one’s challenged you here. You’re not untouchable, Max."

Max’s smirk faded slightly his blue eyes narrowing as he took a step toward you. "You think you’re the one to change that? Face it, you're good, but you're not there yet. You’re reckless, always pushing too hard. It’s gonna cost you eventually."

His words cut deeper than you expected. They weren’t just taunts they felt like a judgment, like he had already written you off. But you weren’t about to let him get inside your head.

"At least I’m not afraid to take risks," you shot back.

Max’s eyes flashed, and for a moment something darker crossed his face, something serious. "This isn’t a game you know. There’s no room for mistakes here. You’re playing with fire, and if you keep going the way you are you’re going to burn out."

His words hung in the air between you, the tension crackling like static. He wasn’t mocking you anymore, this was something else, something more intense. You didn’t know if he was trying to warn you or challenge you, but either way you weren’t backing down.

"I’d rather burn out than fade away," you said, your voice hard.

Max didn’t reply immediately, but his eyes locked on yours, unblinking. There was something unreadable in his expression, like he was seeing you in a new light, but it was hard to tell if it was respect or frustration.

"Just stay out of my way," he finally said, his voice quiet but charged. Then he turned, walking away, leaving you standing there with your pulse racing and your fists clenched.

You watched him go, the frustration and anger still swirling inside you. He was wrong about you—you weren’t going to burn out. But something about his words stuck with you, lingering long after he’d walked away, like an unwanted echo in the back of your mind.

Race Weekend 6 - Spanish Grand Prix

The race had ended hours ago, but the irritation still churned in your chest. Sitting in the team briefing room, the air between you and Max was thick with tension, as had become the norm. All you could hear was the pounding of your own heart, still replaying the near-collision between you and Max in your head.

Max sat across the table, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. It was like nothing got to him, like the chaos on the track didn’t even phase him. The way he remained so calm, so detached, only made your anger burn hotter.

Most of the engineers finally left the room and the door clicked shut behind them. The silence that followed was suffocating. You couldn’t hold back anymore.

"Next time," you snapped, your voice cutting through the quiet, "try not to run me off the track."

Max didn’t even flinch, he looked at you his expression infuriatingly calm. "You’re exaggerating."

"Exaggerating?" you exclaimed, your voice rising. "You practically forced me off the track at Turn 8! If I hadn’t backed off, we’d have both been out of the race."

Max sighed, leaning forward, his elbows resting on the table. "It’s racing. Hard racing. If you can’t handle it, maybe you should reconsider what you’re doing here."

You clenched your fists under the table, every muscle in your body tensing. You knew part of the anger was stemming from knowing there was truth to his words, but you weren't going to admit that anytime soon.

"I can handle hard racing just fine," you shot back. "What I can’t handle is you acting like you’re the only one who deserves to be here. I’m your teammate Max, not your punching bag."

Max’s eyes darkened, and for the first time, you saw something else behind his cool exterior—annoyance, maybe even anger. "Teammate?" he repeated, his voice colder now. "You don’t act like one. You drive like you’re the only person on the track."

You laughed bitterly, unable to hold it in. "That’s rich, coming from you. You’ve spent this whole season so far treating me like I’m not even worth your time. It’s like you can’t stand the idea of someone else being good enough to challenge you."

Max stood up abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. His sudden movement startled you, but you didn’t back down.

"Challenge me?" he said, his voice low but sharp. "This isn’t about some petty rivalry. You’re reckless. You don’t think about the bigger picture. You only care about beating me, and it’s going to get someone hurt—probably you."

His words stung more than you expected. It wasn’t just that he thought you weren’t good enough. It was the way he said it, like he didn’t believe you’d ever be more than a threat to yourself.

"You think I don’t know what I’m doing?" you asked, your voice shaking with anger now. "You think I’m just some rookie who’s out of their depth?"

Max didn’t answer right away. He just stood there staring at you with those piercing blue eyes, like he was trying to figure you out but couldn’t. The silence stretched on heavy and suffocating.

Then, finally, he spoke. "I think you’re talented," he admitted, his voice quieter now, but no less intense. "But you let your emotions get the better of you. You take unnecessary risks because you’re trying to prove something."

His words cut deep, hitting a nerve you hadn’t expected. He wasn’t just criticising your driving anymore, he was questioning you, the way you handled everything. And what stung the most was that part of you feared he might be right.

You stood up, matching his stance refusing to show any weakness. "I don’t need a lecture from you Max. You’re not perfect either."

Max’s jaw tightened, and for a split second, you thought you saw something flicker across his face, hurt? But just as quickly it was gone, replaced by that familiar steely expression.

"Maybe I’m not," he said.

The room felt like it was closing in on you, the air thick with unresolved tension. You wanted to say something, anything, to break through the wall between you, but the anger and frustration clouded your thoughts, you could feel his gaze on your back as you walked out of the room. You slammed the door behind you, the sound echoing down the empty hallway.

Race Weekend 8 – Monaco Grand Prix

You and Max had barely spoken during practice, though the tension was undeniable. He still had that smug look on his face, his confidence oozing off him as you wiped the sweat from your forehead. You could feel your heart beating just a little faster, though you’d never admit it was anything but adrenaline.

As you sat down in the garage, peeling off your gloves, Max passed by.

"Not bad, rookie," he said casually. "Though, I almost expected you to spin out in Turn 4. You were practically kissing the barriers."

You raised an eyebrow, not willing to let him get the better of you. "Almost, huh? Shame you weren’t close enough to see the whole thing. Maybe you could have learned something."

He snorted, leaning against the wall next to you. "Oh, trust me, I got the best view. Though I’m still not sure if you're brave or just reckless."

You gave him a sideways glance smiling "Maybe I’m both."

Max's eyes lingered on you for a second longer than necessary, and you could feel the weight of it. He sat back in his chair, watching you, and the silence between you grew comfortable. You caught him glancing at you again, that smirk back in place, but this time it felt... different.

"You know," he said, voice teasing, "you should smile more often. You look less intimidating when you do."

You glanced up, confused for a second. "I’m not the one people are intimated by."

"Maybe not," he said, eyes glinting, "but you’ve got your own way of getting under people's skin."

"Well, I learned from the best," you shot back without missing a beat.

Max chuckled, shaking his head. "Touché."

Race Weekend 11 – Italian Grand Prix

As the season wore on, things began to shift slowly. You had found your rhythm, steadily improving race by race. You weren’t on Max’s level, not yet, but you were consistently finishing in the points, and at times, you had even managed to challenge him during practice or qualifying. But the dynamic between you remained strained. Max was still focused on his championship, and while the outright hostility had faded there was still an undeniable tension between the two of you.

The Italian Grand Prix was one of the most iconic races of the season. Monza, the Temple of Speed, with its long straights and tight corners it was a test of both car and driver. You had qualified fourth, but once again Max was on pole. It was becoming a frustrating pattern.

After qualifying you found yourself alone in the paddock, sitting on the steps outside the motorhome. You were replaying your lap in your head over and over, trying to figure out where you could have found more time.

“Still overthinking?” Max’s voice broke through your thoughts, and you looked up to see him standing a few feet away, his helmet under his arm.

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Just trying to figure out how to be half a second faster.”

Max walked over, sitting down beside you on the steps. “You’re pushing too hard,” he said after a moment, his voice surprisingly soft. “You’re overdriving the car.”

You frowned, not sure if this was another dig or actual advice. “I’m trying to make up the gap.”

“You can’t drive like that here,” he continued, his eyes scanning the empty track. “You have to let the car come to you. If you keep forcing it, you’re going to keep making mistakes.”

You looked at him genuinely surprised. This was the first time he had offered anything resembling constructive advice. “Why are you telling me this?”

Max didn’t meet your gaze, instead looking out at the paddock. “Because I’ve been where you are. I know what it’s like to have everything to prove.”

You paused, his words sinking in. For the first time, you realised that Max wasn’t just being arrogant. He had been in your shoes once, the young driver trying to prove himself in a world that was constantly questioning if he was good enough, if he was ready.

“Thanks,” you said, your voice a little quieter than usual. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Max nodded, standing up and stretching. “Don’t get used to it,” he said with his familiar smirk. “I still want to beat you.”

You laughed, the tension between you easing just a little. “I’ll keep that in mind too.”

The race at Monza was chaotic as expected. The high-speed circuit, combined with the aggressive nature of the drivers made for a thrilling but nerve-wracking experience. Max was fighting for the win as usual, while you were locked in a battle in the top five.

In the closing laps you found yourself side by side with a McLaren, both of you fighting tooth and nail for fourth place. It was intense, wheel-to-wheel racing, and you could feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins. But Max’s earlier words echoed in your head. Don’t overdrive. Let the car come to you.

With a deep breath you backed off slightly, biding your time, waiting for the right moment. And when it came, you seized it, pulling off a clean overtake and securing fourth place. It wasn’t the podium you wanted, but it was solid result.

After the race you were exhausted, but satisfied. It wasn’t a win but it was a step in the right direction. As you walked back into the garage you caught Max’s eye. He didn’t say anything, but there was a subtle nod of acknowledgment. You had his respect even if he wasn’t going to say it out loud.

Race Weekend 13 - British Grand Prix

It was late in the evening, the team had thrown a small celebration after a particularly challenging but successful race for both of you. The atmosphere was relaxed, and after a few drinks you and Max found yourselves sitting together away from the others. The competitive edge was still there, but the rivalry was fading, replaced by something you couldn’t quite name.

You stretched out leaning back on your hands as the warm night air brushed against your skin. Max sat next to you, closer than usual, the dim light casting soft shadows across his face.

“Do you ever feel like it’s all... too much?” you asked suddenly, surprising even yourself with the question. You weren’t even sure why you asked it, but something about the late night and the quiet moment made you feel like maybe you could.

Max looked over at you, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then he nodded slowly. “Sometimes. More than I admit to most people.”

The honesty in his voice caught you off guard. You turned to him, genuinely curious now. “Really? You always seem so in control...so unfazed.”

He gave a half-smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s all part of it, you know? The cameras, the pressure... you just get good at pretending.”

You looked at him for a moment, seeing past the champion exterior, catching a glimpse of something more vulnerable underneath. It was oddly comforting, knowing he wasn’t as untouchable as you’d thought.

“Well,” you said softly, “you’re pretty good at it. But for what it’s worth, I don’t think anyone’s really in control. Not out there.”

Max turned his head to look at you, his expression softer, more open than you’d ever seen before. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Maybe you’re right.”

There was a pause, his eyes lingered on yours, and you felt your heartbeat pick up. You quickly looked away feeling the tension crackle between you.

"Maybe you’re not quite as annoying as I first thought," you said with a light nudge, trying to break the tension with a small smirk.

Max laughed softly the sound low and surprisingly warm. "High praise coming from you."

But the way he looked at you in that moment made it clear that something had shifted between you. Neither of you said anything else for a while, just sitting there in the quiet night, side by side.

Race Weekend 14 - Dutch Grand Prix

You leaned against the railing of the team’s paddock area, the noise of celebration and chatter swirling around you. It was hard not to smile. You’d just finished in an easy second, your best race yet. It was a personal victory, a testament to all the hard work you’d put in.

But even with the adrenaline still coursing through your veins, a knot of conflicting emotions twisted in your stomach. You had to talk to Max.

As if he sensed your thoughts, you turned to see him walking toward you, a small grin on his face. It was a mix of confidence and camaraderie, and for the first time in a while, you felt less inclined to roll your eyes.

“Great race today,” he said, his tone genuine as he leaned against the railing beside you.

“Thanks,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. “I actually thought I might’ve had a shot at you there.”

He chuckled softly, and you felt your heart flutter at the sound. “You were close. Just need to find a bit more speed in those corners, and you’ll be there.”

You took a deep breath, the earlier tension bubbling to the surface. “You know, it used to annoy me—how you carried yourself, like you were always one step ahead of everyone. Like it was your birth right to be where you are and no one else could catch you.”

Max raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by your honesty. “Yeah?"

You turned to face him, the excitement of the race fading into something more serious. “But now? I get it. You’ve worked your ass off to be the best. It’s not just about talent, it’s about everything you’ve sacrificed. I can see that now. I see it everyday”

He nodded slowly, and the atmosphere shifted between you. “It’s not easy, you know. When everyone expects you to win, and if you don’t, it feels like you’ve let them down.”

The vulnerability in his voice surprised you. It was a reminder that he was human too, grappling with expectations and pressure. “But you handle it all so well,” you said, meeting his gaze. “I respect that.”

A smile ghosted across his lips. “Thanks. That means a lot. I’ve noticed how hard you’ve been pushing yourself this season. It’s impressive.”

You felt warmth spread through your chest at his acknowledgment. “I’ve had to, I can’t just coast along. Not when you’re in the same garage.”

Max’s expression grew serious again. “I know I was... a bit frosty at the beginning. I guess I was too focused on myself to notice how much you were putting in. I don't want this to come across wrong... but it's your first season, and I didn’t want to give you any false hope thinking you could compete with me.”

You frowned slightly, you didn't want to dive into old wounds. “It’s okay. I get it.”

“No, it’s not okay,” he said, shaking his head. “You deserved better. I should have been more supportive. You pushed me too, you know? It’s hard to admit, but you’ve made me work harder, and I appreciate that.”

Your heart raced at his words. There was a sincerity in his tone that softened the rough edges of your previous encounters. You couldn’t help but feel a surge of gratitude mixed with disbelief.

“Really?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah, really,” he replied. “You’ve improved more than I expected in such a short time. It takes guts to put yourself out there and challenge someone who’s been at the top for so long.”

The air between you was charged with a mix of emotions. You nodded*. “Thanks for saying that Max. It means a lot to hear you acknowledge it.”*

He shrugged, trying to downplay the moment, but the corners of his mouth quirked up. “Well, it’s true. Just don’t get too comfortable, I still plan on beating you.”

You laughed, feeling the tension dissipate. “Bring it on Verstappen. I’ll be ready.”

As you stood there, side by side, the competitive fire still smouldering between you, something shifted again—this time, the rivalry felt more like a partnership.

Race Weekend 16 – Azerbaijan Grand Prix

It was early morning Thursday, you and Max found yourselves sitting across from each other at breakfast, still somewhat groggy from travel. The team lounge was quiet, and the two of you were left alone at the table.

“You’re not gonna try and out-eat me too, are you?” Max asked, a teasing smile playing on his lips as he poked at his food.

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t need to out-eat you Max. I’ve already out-qualified you once.”

His eyes lit up in mock offence. “One time! You’re never going to let that go are you?”

“Not a chance,” you said with a grin, taking a bite of your toast. “I’m framing that lap time.”

He narrowed his eyes playfully. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“And you’re too easy to mess with,” you shot back. "Honestly, it's like a gift."

Max laughed, his genuine smile making your stomach flip in a way you couldn’t quite control. He lowered his voice conspiratorially. “I’m just letting you win the mind games. Gotta keep you feeling confident somehow.”

“Oh, so you’re being generous now?” you quipped, raising an eyebrow.

“Always,” he replied with a wink.

The playful banter was natural now, a far cry from the sharp edges and constant tension that had defined your early relationship. There was still competition between you, but now it felt like something that pushed you both forward, rather than tearing you apart.

And as you exchanged another playful jab, you couldn’t help but notice the way both your eyes kept catching each other.

Race Weekend 17 – Singapore Grand Prix

The garage had emptied out, leaving behind only the quiet hum of cooling equipment and the faint clatter of distant tools. A rough race, nothing had gone the way you wanted.

Across the room Max was fiddling with his helmet, but you could tell he wasn’t focused on it. He glanced over at you, then slowly made his way to where you were sitting.

“You okay?” His voice was softer than usual.

You didn’t answer at first, still staring down at your hands trying to shrug off the defeat. “Yeah. Just... it wasn’t my day.”

Max nodded, his gaze steady. “It happens,” he said simply, but there was something in his tone that made you look up.

You sighed, the frustration bubbling over. “I know, but it feels different... I thought I was ready to take that next step the consistency was finally there…and then it just comes crashing back down.”

Max was quiet for a moment and when he spoke again there was a warmth in his voice. “This is a brutal track don't be too hard on yourself. You’ve been doing everything you can, I promise it shows.”

You looked at him, meeting his eyes. “It doesn’t feel like enough.”

Max’s gaze softened, and he took a step closer his hand brushing lightly against your arm. “Trust me, it is.”

The simple touch sent a jolt through you, something unspoken passing between you in that small, fleeting contact. You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could say anything Max moved even closer, and in a moment that felt both surprising and natural, he pulled you into a hug.

At first, you were too stunned to react. The sudden closeness, the warmth of his body against yours—it caught you off guard. But then you felt the solid weight of his arms around you, and you melted into the embrace, resting your head against his shoulder. His body was firm, steady, grounding you in a way that made the tension of the day seem to fade.

The hug wasn’t rushed, it lingered, the quiet between you filled with something heavier than words. But the feel of him, his arms around you, his breath steady against your temple was hard to ignore.

You weren’t sure if it was the exhaustion, the frustration, or something else entirely, but suddenly you were hyper-aware of every movement, the way his breath hitched slightly when you leaned into him, the subtle way his hand trailed down your back before settling again at your waist.

Max’s hands tightened slightly around you, his fingers brushing against the fabric of your shirt. You felt his chin rest lightly on top of your head, and there was something in the way his body pressed against yours that sent your pulse racing.

For a moment it was just the two of you, the rest of the world forgotten. You could feel his heartbeat, steady but strong, and the closeness between you felt almost electric. You weren’t sure who would pull away first, or if either of you even wanted to.

When you finally pulled back neither of you moved far, your faces still inches apart. His hands lingered at your waist, and your breath caught when you saw the way his eyes flickered, just briefly, to your lips.

Neither of you said anything, but the way his fingers flexed slightly against your waist, the subtle tilt of his head, made it clear that you both felt it.

Your heart was pounding, the space between you charged. You could see it in his eyes, the question, the pull, but he didn’t act on it. Instead, he gave you a small almost imperceptible smile before he finally let go.

“You’re going to be fine,” he said, his voice quieter than before.

“Yeah,” you managed, trying to ignore the way your body still hummed from the closeness. “I know.”

Race Weekend 18 - Qatar Grand Prix

It was one of those rare nights when the team wasn’t focused on race strategy or technical debriefs. After a relentless set of races, the team had gathered at a low-lit restaurant lounge for a relaxed evening. Laughter and conversation flowed freely around the long table, and for once the entire team seemed at ease.

You were sitting with a few people and one of the mechanics Adam, was regaling everyone with a wildly exaggerated story about a mishap during a pit stop in his rookie year.

Max was sitting a few seats away, engrossed in a discussion with some of the team, but his eyes kept darting over to you, his gaze narrowing slightly as he observed the scene. His shoulders were tense, and the easygoing expression he’d worn earlier in the evening was replaced by something more guarded. It wasn’t like Max to be this quiet at team gatherings, and you were too distracted to notice at first, focused instead on Adam's ongoing tale.

But the shift in atmosphere caught your attention eventually. As you laughed at another one of Adam's jokes you glanced over to find Max staring your way, his jaw set. He quickly looked away, and downed the rest of his drink in one swift motion.

Curious, you turned back to Adam, who was obliviously leaning in a little closer still chuckling at his own story. And then Max was suddenly standing up, making his way around the table and pulling up a chair directly beside you, a smile plastered on his face that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Hey,” Max greeted, his smile a little forced but convincing enough. “What’s going on over here then? Everyone seems to be having fun.”

Adam grinned and gave him a friendly nod. “Just telling some old war stories. You know how it is.”

“Oh, I bet,” Max replied.

You noticed it right away, especially the way he seemed intent on steering the conversation. “Adam was just telling me about his first-ever pit stop disaster,” you explained still smiling. “It’s been quite entertaining.”

“I’m sure it has,” Max said, but his gaze flickered to Adam again something unreadable in his eyes.

Adam glanced between the two of you, sensing the shift, and gave you a friendly smile before excusing himself to join another group. You watched him go, then turned back to Max noticing the tension still in his jaw.

“So, you came all the way over here to save me from pit lane stories?” you questioned.

Max shrugged, his expression casual. “I just didn’t want you to get bored. Thought you might appreciate something a bit more... entertaining.”

You turned to look at him, amused. “Uh-huh, or maybe you just didn’t want to be left out of the conversation.”

“Maybe. But I was doing you a favour, trust me. You’d have heard all of Adam’s best stories in the first five minutes.” He rolled his eyes.

"Seriously, what’s up?" you asked, genuinely confused by his behaviour.

Max didn’t respond immediately, instead glancing around the table, making sure no one was listening too closely before he spoke. "Nothing. Just... noticed you were getting along pretty well with Adam. I didn’t think he was was your type.”

You blinked, surprised by the unexpected comment. “Oh?” you replied, raising an eyebrow. “And what makes you think you know my type?”

Max shrugged, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “Just an observation,” he said.

You laughed, shaking your head. “Is that so? And what exactly do you think my type is Max?”

He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "I don’t know." He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping lower. “I'd guess someone who doesn’t just talk big but can actually back it up. You know, a real challenge.”

You felt a flicker of heat rush through you at his words, the playful banter quickly taking on a different tone. “A challenge, huh?” you teased. “Funny, I don’t remember you being all that interested in challenges off the track.”

Max's grin widened, his eyes glinting with amusement. “I guess you’ve been paying attention to the wrong things then.”

Your breath faltered, and for a second you wondered if he was going to say something else, if he was going to push this conversation into territory you hadn’t quite prepared for. But then, just as quickly as it started Max leaned back, breaking the moment with a light laugh.

“Don’t overthink it,” he teased with a grin. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

You laughed lightly, shaking your head at his familiar cockiness. “You’re impossible.”

Max just grinned wider. “That's what they tell me.”

For a few minutes you fell into an easy rhythm of teasing each other, the tension from earlier fading completely. Max shifted closer, his knee brushing against yours under the table.

“So, what are you going to do for the break?” he asked, his gaze lingering on your face.

You shrugged, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach at the way he was looking at you. “Probably just spend some time with family, maybe catch up on some sleep. What about you?”

“Hmm, I’m not sure yet,” he said thoughtfully. “Might go back to Monaco, or maybe not. Depends.”

“Depends on what?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Max met your gaze, his expression unreadable for a moment. “Depends on if there’s anything... interesting keeping me around.”

There was a challenge in his eyes that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Or, maybe I’ll just catch up on sleep too,” he added with a wink, steering the conversation back into safer territory.

And before you could respond he reached out for his drink, his hand brushing yours briefly in a way that felt almost accidental. But the touch lingered, the heat of his skin against yours sending a jolt of awareness through you. Your eyes met again, and for a moment, everything else seemed to fade away, the noise of the restaurant, the people around you. It was just you and Max, the world narrowing down to that single point of contact.

Race Weekend 20 – US Grand Prix

The Padel court was quiet, bathed in the late afternoon sun as you and Max stood on opposite sides of the net. This was meant to be a fun break from the track to let off some steam, but the second you both picked up your paddles it became clear neither of you were about to take it easy.

He’d been chirping at you since you got here, claiming he was going to wipe the floor with you. But you’d heard that song before.

"You sure you’re ready for this?" Max called from the other side of the net, casually tossing the ball up and catching it, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "I mean, you can still back out. No shame in admitting defeat early."

You gave him a deadpan look, adjusting your grip on the paddle. "You talk way too much for someone who’s about to lose."

Max rested against his paddle, flashing that familiar smirk. "I’m just letting you believe you have a chance. Keeps things interesting."

You served the ball with a sharp flick of your wrist, sending it careening over the net. Max responded quickly, returning it with ease. The ball bounced between you, a quick exchange of volleys. His movements were swift, confident, but you weren’t about to let him get the upper hand so easily.

"Nice try," Max said after you missed a ball that bounced just out of reach. "You almost looked like you knew what you were doing there."

"Careful Verstappen," you shot back, repositioning yourself for the next rally. "I’m just warming up."

Max laughed, shaking his head. "If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re getting frustrated."

"I don’t get frustrated," you countered, serving the ball again, aiming straight for his side.

"Oh, you definitely do." He easily returned it, the smirk on his face only growing as you both rallied.

You grinned, already feeling the familiar rush of competition surging through you. This wasn’t racing, but it had the same energy—the need to outmanoeuvre, outthink, outplay. And if there was one thing you and Max did well it was push each other’s limits.

"You're really going to make me run for it, huh?" Max panted as he lunged to return a low ball, his paddle barely grazing it.

You smirked. "Wouldn't want you to get too comfortable."

After a particularly long rally, you smashed a shot just out of his reach, winning the point. Max groaned throwing his head back dramatically. "Unbelievable."

You pumped your fist, grinning from ear to ear. "And that’s how it’s done."

"Okay, okay," he wheezed, though his eyes were still bright with amusement. "I’ll give you that one. But don’t think I’m letting you win."

"Letting me win?" you repeated, wiping the sweat from your brow. "That’s cute Max."

Max walked to the net, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "Alright, you got lucky. One point, I’ll give you that."

"One point?" you scoffed, meeting him at the net. "Try four."

"Technicalities," he muttered, but the grin on his face betrayed his playful frustration. He watched you with a glint in his eye. "You know, you’re a lot better at this than I thought."

"Coming from you that means so much." you said dryly.

Max chuckled, his gaze still lingering on you. There was a moment of quiet, the sun casting long shadows on the court, the air between you thick with a kind of unspoken understanding.

"You’re not so bad yourself," you added, breaking the silence but not the tension. "For a guy who spends most of his free time gaming."

Max raised an eyebrow laughing again. "That supposed to be a compliment?"

You shrugged. "Take it however you want."

His grinned. "I think I’ll take it as a compliment."

Before you could reply, he stepped back, tossing the ball in the air. "Alright, rematch. Best two out of three. I’m not letting you walk away with that win."

"You just can’t handle losing to me can you?" you teased, taking your position, ready for another round. "I’m starting to think you just like seeing me sweat."

He chuckled, but the way his eyes lingered on you for a beat longer said more than his words did. "You’re not wrong."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, but there was no denying the subtle shift in the air. It wasn’t obvious or overt, but the dynamic between you had changed in the last few weeks. The teasing was still there, but there was a different kind of energy between you now, one that neither of you had quite acknowledged yet.

You cleared your throat, stepping back and spinning the ball in your hand. "Let’s finish this then. I’ve got a winning streak to keep."

Max’s grin returned, but it was softer now, less competitive and more… something else. "We’ll see about that."

Race Weekend 22 – Brazil Grand Prix

On race day, the tension was palpable. The roar of engines, the smell of burning rubber, and the hum of adrenaline filled the air. Max was standing next to his car helmet in hand, the pre-race jitters barely showing on his face. You caught his eye from across the garage, and for a moment, the world seemed to quiet around you.

You approached, trying to shake off the strange tension that always seemed to linger between the two of you lately. Max’s gaze met yours, steady but with an intensity that made your breath catch for just a second.

“Ready to lose today?” you asked, trying to keep things light, but your voice sounded a little shakier than you’d intended.

Max smirked, stepping closer than necessary. “In your dreams.”

You tried to roll your eyes, but the proximity made it hard to focus. There was a heat in his gaze and you found yourself holding your breath for a moment.

“Don’t get too cocky Verstappen,” you muttered, the playful tone masking the way your pulse raced.

He leaned in just close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him. “I think that’s your job now.”

For a second, it felt like everything had stopped—the noise, the chaos of the track, all fading into the background. But just as quickly the moment passed, and Max stepped back sliding his helmet on.

“See you at the finish line,” he said over his shoulder.

You stood there for a second longer trying to steady your breath, knowing that this race and whatever was happening between you two was far from over.

End of the Season – Abu Dhabi Grand Prix

The season had been a rollercoaster filled with highs and lows. You had stood on the podium for the first time in Canada, a moment that felt surreal after all the hard work. But there had also been heartbreak, a crash in Austria that had cost you valuable points, a mechanical failure in Mexico that had seen you retire from a race where you could have scored big.

Through it all your relationship with Max had continued to evolve. You still raced on track, fighting for every inch of tarmac, but off the track things had changed. There was mutual respect, an understanding that had grown over the course of the season. The animosity that had once defined your relationship was gone, replaced by something more complicated.

The Abu Dhabi Grand Prix was the final race of the season, and the championship was on the line. Max was in a tight battle for the title, and the pressure on both of you was immense.

The night before the race you found Max sitting alone in the team motorhome, staring out at the glowing lights of the Yas Marina Circuit. He looked unusually quiet, his usual air of confidence tempered by the gravity of the situation.

“You ready for tomorrow?” you asked, leaning against the doorway.

Max didn’t look at you, his eyes still focused on the track outside. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

You stepped inside, sitting down across from him*. “You’re going to win it.”*

Max finally turned to face you, a small, almost tired smile on his face. “You sound pretty sure of that.”

“I’ve watched you all season. No one’s better than you out there,” you said simply, meaning every word.

Max shook his head, letting out a short laugh. “You’re not so bad yourself you know.”

You raised an eyebrow.

He shrugged, a playful glint in his eye. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

You had fought hard to get to this point, and though Max was still your fiercest competition, he was also the one person who, you now realised, might understand you better than anyone else.

Abu Dhabi Grand Prix – Race Day

Race day was electric, the air crackling with anticipation. The championship battle had come down to this — the final race of the season, and everything was on the line. Max was in contention for the title, but his rival wasn’t far behind. Every lap, every pit stop, every decision mattered.

You were focused on your own race, but there was an underlying pressure you couldn’t ignore. Max needed you to perform today. If you could help him by holding off the cars behind, or making sure the team strategy worked in his favour, you would.

The race itself was a blur. The car felt good and you pushed hard, determined to finish the year on a high.

As the laps ticked down, the tension in the pit lane grew. Max was leading, but his rival was closing in behind you, and the team was on a knifes-edge. Then, with just a few laps to go, you got the call from your engineer.

“We need you to hold position, keep the cars behind you. Max needs this.”

Your heart pounded in your chest. It wasn’t the call you wanted to hear, but you understood. This was the team game. You weren’t fighting for the championship, but Max was.

“Got it,” you replied, gritting your teeth as you focused on the task ahead.

For the next few laps, you fought with everything you had to keep the cars behind you, giving Max the breathing room he needed. It was arguably the hardest race of your life, the pressure almost unbearable. But when the checkered flag finally fell, you had done it.

Max crossed the line first, securing the championship, and you finished in a solid second place.

The roar of the crowd was deafening, fireworks lighting up the sky as Max stood on the podium, the World Champion once again. You watched him celebrate, a mixture of pride and satisfaction swelling in your chest. You hadn’t won, but in a way you had still achieved something important. You had proven that you could compete at this level, that you could stand with the best.

Later that night, after all the celebrations had died down you found Max sitting alone in the quiet garage, his championship trophy resting beside him.

“Not partying with the team?” you asked.

Max looked up, his face still glowing with the satisfaction of victory. “Needed a minute,” he said, his voice soft.

You stepped inside, sitting down beside him. “You did it,” you said, a small smile on your lips.

Max glanced at you, his blue eyes filled with something deeper than just the thrill of winning. “We did it,” he corrected, his voice sincere.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The weight of the season, the challenges you had both faced, the fights on and off the track — it all hung in the air between you. But there was no tension now, no rivalry. Just understanding.

“You really helped me today,” Max said after a while, his voice quiet but firm. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

You shrugged, trying to play it off, but his words meant more to you than you’d expected. “Just doing my job.”

Max chuckled, shaking his head. “You did more than that.”

You turned to face him fully, your knees brushing against his, the closeness between you suddenly palpable. His eyes were on you, and the look he gave you sent a shiver down your spine.

You met his gaze smiling, the two of you had been through so much together, and now, sitting in the quiet aftermath of victory, it felt like the beginning of something new.

But then the playful smile faded, replaced by a more intense expression. His gaze flickered, dropping to your lips for just a fraction of a second, but it was enough to send your heart racing.

The space between you seemed to shrink. You felt your breath hitch as Max shifted closer, the warmth of his body brushing against yours. His hand moved, almost hesitantly, to your arm, his fingers grazing your skin in a way that made every nerve in your body stand on end.

You could feel it now, the weight of everything unsaid, everything that had built up over the season, all the unspoken moments between you. It was all right there, in the way his hand lingered on your arm, the way his breath caught as his eyes met yours again, more intensely this time.

“You’re not bad at this whole teammate thing,” Max murmured, his voice low.

You rolled your eyes, but the banter was thin now, the words barely a distraction from the way your heart was pounding in your chest. “I guess you're not so bad yourself.”

Max’s smile faded again, his gaze serious, and for a moment, everything else fell away. The garage, the race, the entire championship, none of it mattered. It was just the two of you, sitting there in the quiet.

And then, before you could even process what was happening, Max leaned in.

It was slow at first, as if he was giving you time to pull away, but you didn’t. You couldn’t. His lips hovered just above yours, the space between you almost unbearable, and then finally he closed the distance.

The kiss was soft at first, tentative, but it didn’t stay that way for long. There was too much between you for it to be gentle. His hand came up to cup the back of your neck, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, and you felt your body respond, your heart pounding in your ears.

It wasn’t a kiss born out of victory or celebration. It was something else, something more intense, like all the tension, the rivalry, the unspoken moments between you had finally come to a head. It was raw, charged, and for a moment, it felt like the world had stopped spinning around you.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, Max’s forehead rested against yours, his eyes still closed as he let out a shaky breath.

Neither of you spoke for a long moment. There was a shift now, something irrevocable between you, but it felt right. Like this was where you were always meant to end up.

“You know,” Max murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, “Next year’s going to be interesting.”

You let out a breathless laugh, still trying to catch your breath. “You have no idea.” you teased, nudging him with your shoulder. “Next year, I’m coming for you.”

Max grinned. “I’d like to see you try.”

And as you sat there, still wrapped up in each other you couldn’t help but smile. The season may have ended, but the story between you and Max was far from over.

fqlling4it’s masterlist

formula one

max verstappen

- we can’t be friends (wait for my love)

- sunshine

lando norris

- teenager in love

alex albon

- lover

nhl

quinn hughes

- lake days

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!!)

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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?”

my favorite fics (f1 version)

hii i wanted to start a fic rec list so i can keep track of the fics that i love and also get more people to read them <33 i’ll be adding more stories as i read them

all of the stories and authors below are amazing ! give them a read and a follow 🤍

MY MASTERLIST

oscar piastri:

tangerine by @scuderiahoney

but mama i love him by @pierregazly

somethin stupid by @taasgirl

uh oh by @uluvjay

late night talking by @jamminvroomvroom

lost in japan by @sunrizef1

call me your fool by @userlando

my own pastry by @f14fun

can i tempt you? by @uglyducklingofthe2000s

charles leclerc:

that’s who i’m racing for by @leclerity

so long monaco by @goldsainz

tis the season, i guess by @predestinatos

you'll change your name or your mind by @monzabee

this is a relationship i don't think anyone saw coming by monzabee

i'll look after you by @roostersgirlfriendlovesf1

it’s called love by @racinggirl

max verstappen:

the vegas saga by @theemporium

and they were roommates by @itsallyscorner

café de paris by tinycoffeeroom

at fault by itsallyscorner

there she goes by @heartysworld

chaotic texts by @norris55s

let me be the lighter by @nostappen

guilty as sin? by sunrizef1

look after you by @weeknd-ogoc

cat-sitter by @be4chywritez

hungry for life by @predestinatos

baby verstappen by @driverlando

carlos sainz:

treat you better by @tinycoffeeroom

money, money, money by @norrisleclercf1

style by @mickyschumacher

playing cupid by @somejazzinthemorning

future replacement by @edwardslvrr

mini sainz by norrisleclercf1

no mustache by @chillipeppersainz

don't go by @thef1diary

always and forever by @55szn

this by @cutielando

handprint by @vivwritesfics

lando norris:

matchmaker by @dumbseee

just us by @calumthomcs

you came you called by @dilemmaontwolegs

walk him like a dog by @sharlsworld

this by norrisleclercf1

drinks and jackets by @of-many-fandomss

lewis hamilton:

get him back by @theyluvkarolina

warm, buttery and soft by @laneywrld

family ties by @eccentricwritingbaby

george russell:

broken bones by @coco-loco-nut

million dollar baby by @everythingne

he got the girl by @claypgeon

my jacket now by @fastandcarlos

⟡ ₒₜₕₑᵣ dᵣᵢᵥₑᵣₛ ⟡

NONE OF THESE ARE WRITTEN BY ME

ᵐʸ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ʳᵉᶜˢ ᶠ¹ ʳᵉᶜˢ

— ᵗʰᵉ ᵍʳⁱᵈ ⟡

thirsty thoughts (s) - @lorarri

missing piece (a) - @katebishopsbow

grid kids (series, sebastian vettel and grid) - @pucksandpower

birthday wishes (max is the bf but focused on everyone) (smau) - @mclqren

points have been made (lestappen x reader) - @sinofwriting

birthday wishes (charles is the bf but focused on everyone) (smau) - @astonmartinii

heartbreak syndrome (mostly the grid but ex!max and eventual lewis) - @h4m1lt0ns

the grid's delight (series) - @sebscore

— ˢᶜᵉⁿᵃʳⁱᵒˢ/ʰᵉᵃᵈᶜᵃⁿᵒⁿˢ ⟡

makeup shopping with the boys (f) - @verstappen-cult

getting caught making out with the boys (sexual references) (^)

boys reacting to being called pretty (mostly f) - @ln444

dating f1 drivers (mostly f) - @hauntedrain

"where they would like to kiss you" (f) - @itsvelyria

f1 drivers and their favorite types of hugs (f) - @mirohlayo

ass or tits (s) - @youaresimplylovely

"what did you just call me" (f) - @23victoria

“i love you” (f) (^)

he takes care of you on your period (f) - @fastandcarlos

when f1 drivers dirty text you (and you pretend your dad answers) (s) - @maxtermind

fuckbuddy!f1 drivers getting jealous (f,a,s) (^)

f1!boyfriends with jealous partner (s) (^)

f1 drivers reacting to the hickeys they left on you (s) (^)

putting f1!drivers on a sex ban (s) (^)

accidently telling your f1!boyfriend you think he likes someone else (a) (^)

blind girl (f, suggestive) - @hamilando

unbreakable (a) - @amberjazmyn

how the f1 drivers would kiss you (f, suggestive) - @uluvjay

bereals with your f1 bf - @lilasamaaa

f1 boys and their moments of quiet admiration for you (f) - @itaipava

tease (s) - @hugleclerc

new year with your f1 boyfriend (f) - @jungwnies

scaring your f1 boyfriend (f) (^)

nonsense christmas (f,s) - @pha55ed

you're jealous of a baby (f) - @verstappensrealwife

flowers (f) - @merchelsea

favorite days (f) - @moonlight-records

crush chaos - @f1amour

wedding shenanigans - @no-144444

when the media says something insane (^)

— ˡᵉʷⁱˢ ʰᵃᵐⁱˡᵗᵒⁿ ⟡

king of my heart (smau) - @cieloclercs

keys to the benz (smau, sexual innuendo) - @imnameimswrld

him being a simp for you (headcannon) - @itaipava

thick and thin (f,a)- @agendabymooner

lawyer up (smau) - @monzabee

war is over (tw: brocedes mention) (f) - @pucksandpower

you're my best friend and you knew what it was he is in love (smau) - @redwinelew

lucky charm (smau) - @maplesyrupsainz

chapter 25 (smau) - @edwardslvrr

— ᵈᵃⁿⁱᵉˡ ʳⁱᶜᶜᵃʳᵈᵒ ⟡

ultimate wing man (smau) - @astonmartinii

keep it private (smau) - @marlenesluv

forever kind of love (smau) - @chrisevansonly

my book worm (smau) - @lewisvinga

— ᵃʳᵗʰᵘʳ ˡᵉᶜˡᵉʳᶜ ⟡

kissing in the rain (f) - @thebearchives

forgiveness (f) - @starlost97

fan behavior (smau) - @lxclerc

it's you and me (smau) - @lecsainz

party girl two (smau) - @natailiatulls07

amour (smau) - @marlenesluv

happy tears (f) - @versairic

through the night (f,a) - @menteycorazoncito

matchmaking brothers - @5sospenguinqueen

— ˢᵉᵇᵃˢᵗⁱᵃⁿ ᵛᵉᵗᵗᵉˡ ⟡

just you wait sunshine (a) - @unsolvedjarin

helmet kisses (headcannons) - @forteafy

drink water, not alchol (f) - @sebscore

me and my husband (smau) - @starkwlkr

fever dream it's nothing new i wait for you (smau) (^)

cherry flavoured (rbr!seb my love) (f) (^)

miss honey (f) (^)

always an angel, never a god (!!!! EASTING DISORDER !!!) (a) (^)

come back to me (CRASH) (a)- @lucyrose191

about you (series, f)- @drvscarlett

merry christmas, please don't call (a) - @bestalbertcamuslover

— ᶠʳᵃⁿᶜᵒ ᶜᵒˡᵃᵖⁱⁿᵗᵒ ⟡

mi bonita (smau) - @harrysfolklore

nothing special (f,a) - @p1astr81

mi vida (smau) - @n0vazsq

getaway (f) - @mywritersmind

WAG in training (smau) - @5sospenguinqueen

el coqueto (f) - @theonottsbxtch

all of the boys you loved before (f,a) - @wcters

let's reconnect (smau) (^)

fan favorite (smau) - @menagerofmischief

gold rush (smau) - @afterglowsainz

"Lando was a little bit behind me." "I was a little bit behind. Alex was my hero."

Formula 1 fic recs 2

Part 1

Kpop recs

Please let me know if a link does not work!

CLeclerc16

Prettiest @starlost97

World burning @miirohs

Ex’s and Oh’s @leclerc-hs

It’s always been him @granaidh

Winner’s prize @norafaye

What’s your kink? @violetszone

Dodging kisses ft.Max @verstappen-cult

Dirty boy @c0eu4

Podium princess ft.Lando, Carlos @thef1diary

Still got you all over me ft.Carlos, Pierre, Daniel @curiousthyme

Achilles come down @pucksandpower

Playing with his nerves @ccsainzleclerc5516

Obsessed ft.Alex @moviecritc

-

Riding shotgun ft.Pierre @dilemmaontwolegs

Riding shotgun II ft.Pierre

-

Better kind of best friends ft.Alex @doomedmoth

Better kind of best friends II ft.Alex

Three’s a crowd ft.Alex

-

Norlestappen ft.Max, Lando @vivwritesfics

Sleepies ft.Max, Lando

Eepies ft.Max, Lando

Griffindor!Charles

-

All in the name of love ft.Lando @uglyducklingofthe2000s

Childhood rivals ft.Max

YTsunoda22

Breakfast @whorekneecentral

LHamilton44

Hiding all of our sins @prettyfastcars

Pipe down -thef1diary

Come sit on my lap until I’m finished -whorekneecentral

Braid me @maxillness

Kissin on my tattoos @saintslewis

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His biggest prize -ccsainzleclerc5516

All yours, Only yours

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44 Winks -uglyducklingofthe2000s

The only important voice

CSainz55

Podium Princess ft.Lando, Charles -thef1diary

Boy toys ft.Lando -dilemmaontwolegs

Still got you all over me ft.Pierre, Charles, Daniel -curiousthyme

My girl ft.Oscar @leclerced

-

Supernatural ft.Lando -vivwritesfics

Not very sexy sex

His ft.Lando

-

Anal @hiddenlife-manager

Anal II

OPiastri81

Untitled @arieslost

Vanilla? @daddyricsdoll

Aphrodisiac chocolates @mickyschumacher

Little shit -vivwritesfics

My girl ft.Carlos -leclerced

Hands in your hair @fernandopiastri28

Life is like a box of chocolates ft.Lando -dilemmaontwolegs

Tangerine @scuderiahoney

A special place in hell -uglyducklingofthe2000s

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Bump n grind @grnherbs

Look at my face baby

-

Caught Orange-handed ft.Lando @mariahcarreyyy

Thick thighs save…