I Couldn’t Post This Weekend Because I’m On A Trip But TRUST My 4x World Champion Will Get His Fic

I will be (un)patiently waiting for some carlos and jannik fics bc i feel like we def don't have enough here😔

anon don’t even have to tell me twice!! i’m already working on a jannik smau and next up i’m writing for carlos, i just wanted to post a draft that i had since forever first

and yes we are in serious drought of fics where are they !!!!

this went from invisible string to the 1 pretty fast 😭

hii ! i was wondering if i could request a fanfic about Max verstappen and y/n —or you can give her a name UR CHOICE :) — anyways could you possibly follow the lines of them being complete strangers meeting in the Mexico GP, to becoming friends, then later on being lovers.

I’m not sure if you like to write sad stories but could you also possibly make a sad ending where towards the end they break up and whenever they are around eachother they act like complete strangers

Hopefully you take my request :) it was mainly inspired by a song called “strange” by Celeste !

Thank youuu !!

fortnight ⋆ max verstappen

pairing: max verstappen x reporter!reader

word count: 2.7K

warnings: bad boyfriend behaviour, angst (sort of)

a/n: it took me so long finishing this, and im not fully convinced with the result :( i also changed things a bit. anyways i loved the whole vibe, so maybe i write something similar soon

also this ended up giving massive fortnight by t swift vibes so i named it bc of that

masterlist | wattpad | letterboxd

They were made for each other, or at least that's what everyone said. They had their first encounter at the Mexican Grand Prix. Y/N had been working as a reporter and interviewer for the races all season, but she had never had the chance to interview Max.

Mexico must have been one of Y/N's favorite places, all the culture, food, and people made her feel very welcomed. The race week in Mexico was the one she felt most nostalgic about once the season was over.

She arrived at the airport on Tuesday or Wednesday, she didn't quite remember, the only thing she remembered about her arrival in Mexico was the jet lag and that instead of grabbing her suitcase, she took Max Verstappen's.

She had always felt a certain intimidation towards him, by his way of driving and treating his teammates on the track. So, she was terrified to have to contact him. Surprisingly, it was Max who contacted her.

He called a few hours after she arrived at the hotel, she still wondered how he got her phone number and her name.

"Y/N L/N?" he asked. She recognized the voice and took a few seconds to process it. "I'm Max. I think I have your suitcase."

"Hello, yes. Uh, I think I have your suitcase too," She scratched her neck a bit.

"Ah, fantastic. Are you free now to exchange them?"

"Sure, yeah. Where?"

"I can come to your hotel, I don't want to cause you too much trouble," Max commented in a calm tone. That seemed like a super sweet gesture coming from him.

"Alright, I'll send you the location, come whenever you can," And they hung up.

Y/N was quite impressed by how nice Max had been, and that it was him who contacted her and offered to go to the hotel, even though she was the one who took the wrong suitcase.

Literally five minutes later they called her room phone, telling her that someone was asking for her. She went down with the suitcase immediately, meeting the pilot and his suitcase.

Max waved his hand a bit so she would know it was him, although Y/N knew perfectly well who he was. Max observed her, she had brown hair with lighter tips than the rest of her hair, probably from dyeing it in the past, and quite long curtain bangs. Somehow her face looked familiar to him, as if he had seen her before, but at the same time not.

"Hey, here you go," Y/N handed him the suitcase and they made the exchange. "I'm really sorry for the trouble, really, I didn't even realize it wasn't my suitcase,"

"It's okay, don't worry. Did you open the suitcase?" He slightly bit his lip.

"Well, yes. But I only saw the eight or nine Red Bull shirts, I realized it wasn't my suitcase," she said, smiling.

That made Max laugh. "Are you here for the race?"

"Well, yes, I'm a reporter for DAZN," Y/N nodded.

Max raised his chin a bit, understanding why the brunette looked so familiar. He looked around and then at his watch. "Are you busy now?"

Y/N blinked, was he…?

"No, not now," she pressed her lips, trying to hide a smile.

"Can I invite you for a coffee?" he smiled shyly.

"Oh," Y/N pondered for a few seconds what to tell him.

"If not, don't worry," Max spoke. Maybe she had been thinking about the answer for too long.

"No, of course. I'd love to,"

Was it a strange start? Yes. But only that afternoon they connected in such a strange way that it scared them. Y/N had two Siamese cats, Max had two Bengal cats. He spent hours on the sim, she could spend hours watching the same series, which wasn’t exactly the same, but close. They both supported FC Barcelona and the most surprising thing was that she had been on exchange in the Netherlands, at the same school Max was attending. The only thing was that he barely went to classes because he was going from championship to championship.

That afternoon it felt as if someone had made them meet, because it was too much of a coincidence to find someone so similar to you because of one suitcase.

"Will I see you in the paddock tomorrow?" Max asked, as they were saying goodbye.

"I hope so,"

"Stop by the Red Bull garage if you have time,"

Y/N nodded and bit her lip, still unable to believe the instant connection she had with Max. She even forgot she had terrible jet lag. At no point did she consider that this could end badly.

…

At the Brazil Grand Prix, they were already sharing a hotel room. Nobody knew yet that they were together so they could come and go as they pleased. Y/N was still a reporter for DAZN, although now that she spent so much time with Max her reports started to be shorter and with fewer details. She barely paid attention to the races, she stayed near the Red Bull garage, trying to see him when he entered the pits.

By that time, Y/N realized that maybe she was spending too much time with Max. In just those two weeks, Max had been pivoting between the sim and the hotel bed. At first, he said nice things to her and stayed with her for a while, asking her what she had been doing or what movie she was going to watch now. But the last time, he dressed immediately and went back to the sim.

Y/N even remembered how well they had connected and how comfortable she had felt, although it had only been fourteen days ago. She didn't even think about confronting him, after all, they were nothing, they never were.

Why? A serious relationship would only take up time that he could use for much more productive things for his career. That was better, even if it made the brunette feel as if he only wanted to satisfy himself with her.

"Max, it's late and I'm hungry, what if we go out for dinner?" Y/N entered her room where he had all the set up, it was the first time she saw it and she thought it was crazy that Max had all those screens, all those gadgets just to pretend to drive.

"I can't now, schat," he said, moving his hand a bit to try to make physical contact with her, but he didn't manage to because he didn't take his eyes off the screen.

"Well, remember we have the flight to Las Vegas tomorrow at noon. Come to bed soon," Y/N commented, looking at his crown.

She fell asleep before feeling Max's weight on the bed.

She didn't know why, but she really thought that in Vegas something would change, maybe because of the atmosphere or because it was the last races, maybe he would be slightly more relaxed now that he had practically won the championship. She even thought they would enter the paddock together, that she would have a fixed spot in the Red Bull garage or something, but a minimum of recognition from him towards her.

But it was quite the opposite. Max didn't show up in the paddock until Thursday afternoon while she had to be there since Tuesday. He made her take the plane alone and he didn't even text her when he landed. She had to find out he was already in Las Vegas when she saw him passing by her in the paddock and Y/N made a gesture to greet him, smile at him or make a simple gesture, but Max passed by without even looking at her.

That's when she realized she would have to confront him. He was behaving like a complete jerk, and Y/N was sure she wasn't the first woman who got fed up with him for that.

With a couple of calls and several messages, she managed to find out the hotel and the room where Max was staying. After a day full of interviews, Y/N went straight to the hotel address, knocking on his door.

"Hey, hello," he said, already in his pajamas and with a tired look. "I was thinking about you."

"Oh, me too," Seeing Max's hand on her waist, Y/N pulled away from him immediately.

Max raised his eyebrows at once, surprised by the abruptness of the brunette. "Are you alright?"

Y/N lowered her gaze slightly, choosing her words. Suddenly she was more than nervous to say something. "What… what are we?"

"In what sense?" he asked cautiously. He thought it was too soon for that conversation.

"What sense is it going to be?" she approached, realizing that Max probably was just a man like the rest, who had an unjustified fear of naming relationships.

"Uh," he said. Y/N blinked, waiting for a more complete sentence. "Do you want to make it public or something?"

Y/N ignored the 'or something', sticking only to the first words. She smiled a little, getting closer to Max.

"Is that what you want?" He asked again, putting his hands on her waist now that she let him.

"I would like that, yes," she nodded, before Max gave her a quick kiss. "You've been leaving me hanging for a few days."

"Schat, you know I have to train and prepare for the races," Max insisted, sliding his hands much lower than her waist.

Y/N was going to say something, but Max caught her lips and didn't let go until he felt satisfied.

On Friday they arrived together at the paddock, attracting attention from the media. They didn't talk much, she was afraid they would read her lips.

Y/N had to go with her team to interview the Ferrari team and they kissed in front of a couple of cameras as a goodbye. The image went viral in minutes. After finishing the interviews, she received a couple of comments from people around the paddock about how lucky Max was to have found her.

Y/N couldn't understand how he was the lucky one. After all, she was the one with the Formula 1 star pilot. She got on Twitter, seeing how several users commented on how amazing she was, how she had managed to make a name for herself in motorsport, how sweet and funny people found her, Y/N would never in her life use "funny" as an adjective to describe herself. And the best part, that Max should feel more than lucky to have her. That they made a practically perfect couple, that they coordinated super well. Just a few steps in the paddock had made them the couple of the moment. The example to follow.

Max won that race and jumped into her arms when he got out of the car, giving her a strong wet kiss in a very unsexy way. That totally took Y/N by surprise, she couldn't believe his first thought after winning was her. Who knows which of his PR team told him to do that.

"I'll see you in a few hours, wait for me in the hotel room," Max told her, kissing her cheek.

"Max, I also work here. I have to do interviews," she reminded him, with a somewhat serious look.

"Ah, alright,"

"Let me know when you're done," Y/N turned without saying or doing anything else.

She worked until late at night without being able to get out of her head that she and Max had progressed so much in the relationship that they had skipped all the really good parts, the honeymoon phase. And this time it had been her fault, it had been her idea to make it public maybe too soon.

She arrived at Max's room, which was dimly lit and cold. She took a long shower, still wondering what she should do now that their relationship wasn't working out at all.

When she came out of the shower, with wet hair and pajamas on, she found Max lying on the bed, sliding his finger over the screen of his cell phone.

"The shower is free now, were you waiting for long?" Y/N spoke, tilting her head slightly.

"I'm already showered, I was waiting for you," Max admitted with a sweet look.

"Oh," she said. "You didn't have to, I'm sure you're tired,"

Y/N walked cautiously to the free side of the bed, because they hadn't even talked about their sides of the bed. Max got up and changed his clothes, Y/N remembered how good shape Max was in and how good he was in bed as he was with the car. She discreetly bit her lip.

"I wanted to talk to you, actually," Max mentioned as he sat down next to her, giving Y/N goosebumps. "Did you see that people adore us?" Max hugged her by the shoulders, pulling her closer to him.

Y/N let out a sustained thread of air in her lungs and smiled. "Yes," It seemed strange to Max that that was the only thing that came out of Y/N's mouth. "Is that a good thing, isn't it?" he asked, now somewhat confused. "Of course, someone should."

Max blinked, now separating from her body so he could see her well. "What do you mean by that?"

"Since we don't adore each other," she mentioned, as if by chance.

"What do you mean by that?" Max asked, having no idea what Y/N was saying.

She sighed, shaking her head slightly. She wondered how someone couldn't realize something so simple.

"Forget it, Max," she fixed, getting comfortable in bed. "I'm tired."

"Wait, let's talk," he insisted, getting closer to her, with a worried look.

Y/N clicked her tongue, sitting up on the pillow. "Do you like me?"

"Of course, you're beautiful and attentive and intelligent. Why wouldn't I like you?"

That made her heart shrink a bit. "But do you see me as something lasting?"

Max thought about his answer. No. "I don't know,"

That was enough for Y/N to know the real answer, she clicked her tongue and moved slightly away from him.

"Y/N, you have to understand that I have a complicated job and…"

"For God's sake, Max, we both work in the same field. If you want to blame the distance or something like that, it won't work," Y/N denied, biting her cheek with anger.

Max pressed his lips, trying to hide that that was exactly what he was going to do.

"I think I better leave," Y/N commented, pulling the sheets.

Max saw all her movements, from when she got up until she picked up her things and left through the door. Y/N still somehow hoped he would say something, but Max didn't even move. He simply waited for her to leave so he could lie down and go to sleep.

Y/N didn't cry, she didn't even consider it. It had been a short time and there was no need to waste time thinking about what could have happened. For God's sake, she didn't even know if it had been a real relationship.

It had started perfectly but had been declining just a few days after they met.

In the last Grand Prix, Y/N was with her team most of the time, writing columns for DAZN's website report and preparing questions for her colleagues' interviews.

"Y/N, here are the questions for Max's interviews," her colleague said.

"Huh?"

"Everyone wants you to interview Max, for obvious reasons," he nodded, as if it were totally normal.

"I don't think it's a good idea," Y/N mentioned, making a face.

"Y/N, he and everyone else are waiting for the interview," he insisted, nodding his head behind his back. Y/N turned discreetly, observing Max leaning against a wall, trying so hard not to look at her.

"Fuck," she muttered with a soft frown. "Ok, let's do this quick,"

She standed up with a bored and sick stare, there was Red Bull's engineers everywhere and even people taking pictures of her.

"Hey," he greeted her as she approached.

"Let's get this over with quickly, okay?" she nodded.

"Try not to be too harsh, people still think we're together," Max commented.

Y/N's gaze hardened. "I'll do whatever I want, Max," she clenched her jaw and gave the cameraman a nod to start broadcasting the interview.

[OSCAR] bahrain grand prix 2025 // post race

can I request a Lando Norris smau based on Taylor's song So High School? Nobody knows they are together and reader soft launches him with her new album (The Tortured Poets Department) and then he goes to her concert and people start connecting dots but then she goes to the Miami Grand Prix and when Lando wins he runs straight to her and he kisses her in front of everyone (kinda like The Alchemy lyrics). Thank you if you do it

here !!

oscar piastri & 3 🧡

did i fall out of line when i called you? | oscar piastri

song; mess it up - gracie abrams

part of the spotify wrapped special

Every time Oscar got too close, he messed it up.

But it was okay; you forgave him because he was Oscar. Oscar, who had commitment issues. Oscar, who was trying hard to have a lasting relationship with you. Oscar, who loved you deeply. But you also knew he was Oscar, who couldn’t have something good without ruining it.

The day he asked you to be his girlfriend, and you said yes, he went to a club to celebrate and ended up fighting a man who had simply asked you where the bathroom was, thinking the man was flirting with you. He ended the night with a split eyebrow and a broken nose.

The day he was supposed to meet your parents, he got so nervous that he drank too much whiskey and fell asleep, missing lunch with your parents and disappointing you in the process.

The first time you went to watch one of his races in person, anxiety got the best of him, and he didn’t pick you up on the way to the airport, using the excuse that he “forgot.” You knew he hadn’t forgotten—he had simply chickened out and was too coward to admit the truth.

Still, you forgave him every time.

It was just a few hours were left until an event McLaren was hosting with one of its sponsors, and Oscar had begged you to accompany him. It didn’t take much convincing for you to agree. But something felt off; something didn’t feel right.

When Oscar suddenly stopped replying to your messages, you got worried. Early in the relationship, it happened more often—he wasn’t used to having a girlfriend, so he wasn’t used to replying to messages. It was one of the many conversations where you had to remind him that you didn’t care if he didn’t reply instantly; you knew he was a busy man. But he couldn’t go four days without responding and then show up as if nothing had happened. After that talk, his communication improved.

With less than thirty minutes left before your boyfriend was supposed to pick you up for the event, and no sign of him, you knew—without him even saying it—that he had once again changed his mind about taking you, and you wouldn’t be attending the event that night. You looked at your reflection in the mirror: the beautiful long white dress you had bought specifically for the occasion and the elegant silver jewelry adorning your neck—all for nothing.

When it became obvious Oscar wasn’t coming, you took everything off, put on your pajamas, crawled under the covers, and turned on your computer to watch a movie. At some point during the night, you checked Instagram and came across the worst thing you could’ve seen. A video of your boyfriend at the event’s afterparty, dancing with a girl who was definitely not you.

Technically, he wasn’t doing anything wrong—he hadn’t kissed her or slept with her. But the feeling of betrayal consumed you entirely and settled deep inside.

It was over.

Months had passed since the breakup, and Oscar couldn’t stop thinking about you.

You were his favorite thought whenever he didn’t have to use his brain power—while waiting in line for coffee, while driving from home to the MTC, when turning off the lights and trying to sleep. He thought about you and how much he missed you.

He knew there were many things you had forgiven him for that you didn’t have to. And he also knew that the one thing you hadn’t forgiven him for was what he regretted the most. Nothing had happened with the girl in the video—they’d only danced a couple of songs. But afterward, he felt dirty and missed you.

When he arrived at your place, he was shocked to see you crying and then shocked at how quickly your tears turned into angry shouts. You ended things, throwing him out of your apartment.

But tonight, he couldn’t sleep. He wanted to hear your voice and see you. He knew if he showed up at your place, you wouldn’t open the door. So, he settled for the second-best thing and called you.

Did he cross the line? Was it too soon? He knew the answer was yes when you didn’t answer his call. And when he called again, it went straight to voicemail.

The third-best thing, then.

Oscar opened your chat, the one he had neglected far too often but now couldn’t stop staring at, remembering the goodnight messages you used to send him and the ones wishing him luck in his races.

“I know I wasn’t a good boyfriend at all, and I know I don’t deserve you in any way, but I miss you. You made me a better person and a better man. I know every time something good happened between us, I managed to ruin it one way or another, and I’m truly sorry. But I also feel like if you let me back in, we can make it better. I can do better. I’ve improved my habits, and I’ve pulled myself back together. I’m so sorry for all the times I hurt you. I want to show you I’m not the same person as before. Please, give me one more chance.

I love you.”

Send.

Call Me When You Breakup

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: Max is in the wrong relationship, and you both know it. But knowing isn’t choosing, and you’re done waiting.

1.8k words / Inspo / Masterlist

You don't want to be here.

Not in this overpriced, dimly lit restaurant. Not sitting across from your best friend who, for all intents and purposes, should be yours but isn't. Not watching him share a plate of something too delicate, too refined, with someone who doesn’t know him the way you do.

You shouldn't be here, but you are. Because Max asked, and you’ve never been able to say no to him.

His girlfriend, the word itself sticks in your throat like it doesn’t belong there, sits beside him her hand curled possessively around his arm like it’s an accessory.

She's beautiful in that effortless way that makes it impossible to hate her, but easy to envy and you do, not because she's done anything wrong, but because she has him and you don’t. She’s the kind of girl who wears white to brunch and never spills anything. Who smiles with her teeth but never with her eyes. She laughs at all the right moments, smiles like she’s being watched, and you suppose she probably always is.

She tells people he’s different with her, like it’s some accomplishment, like she’s smoothed out all the parts of him that used to be real. And maybe that’s what she wants, a version of Max that’s easier to manage. More polished. Less... passionate.

And maybe he needs that. Maybe it’s easier to be loved when no one sees the cracks.

But you do.

And you love him anyway.

"You're quiet tonight."

Max's voice breaks through the fog of your thoughts, dragging you back into the present. His blue eyes flick to yours, brow furrowed. You know that look. Concern. Like he always gets when you're not yourself. Like he doesn't realise he’s the reason why.

"I'm fine," you lie, forcing a smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes. "Just tired."

His girlfriend, her name, why does her name escape you? Leans in, pressing a kiss to his cheek, whispering something you can’t hear. Max laughs, low and affectionate, and it splinters something inside you.

You force your attention back to your plate, pushing the delicate food around with your fork, though you have no appetite for it. Each bite seems tasteless, it’s not the kind of meal you’re used to. You’d much rather be somewhere familiar, somewhere real, where the food is greasy and the air is thick with laughter, the kind of places where Max talks with his hands and lets himself forget who he has to be.

But tonight, he’s wearing someone else’s life. And you’re just the spectator.

Max's laughter, though, it’s still real. It’s just harder to swallow now, harder to accept, because it’s not for you. Not tonight.

Then he leans in closer than necessary, voice dropping again, warm and soothing, bringing you back to the present. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Your heart stutters for a beat. The question, the tone it’s always the same. Always concerned. Always directed at you. But never for you. You’ve learned to ignore the quiet ache that blossoms each time, because it’s pointless.

"I'm fine," you repeat, this time with more conviction. The smile feels less forced but still unnatural. "I promise."

His eyes linger on you like it’s a habit he can’t break, and you can tell he’s not buying it. His gaze flicks briefly to his girlfriend, who is now chatting animatedly with the waiter about some wine pairing, before he leans in, close enough that only you can hear.

"Are you sure? You know you can talk to me right?"

That damn sweetness in his voice. That quiet tenderness he saves just for you, like a secret between the two of you, a secret you’re not sure you can keep much longer. His girlfriend is only a few inches away, but the distance between you and Max has never felt more cavernous.

You swallow, unable to look at him, because if you do, you might say something you can’t take back. Something that would shatter the delicate balance you’ve managed to maintain.

You want to tell him that you're not fine. That you haven’t been for a long time. But you can’t. You just can't.

Instead, you nod, your throat tightening, unable to force the words past your lips. He doesn’t need to know. Not now. Not when it could ruin everything.

Later that night when you’re alone in your apartment, you do what you swore you wouldn’t.

You scroll through old photos, ones where it was just you and Max, before… before everything became complicated. Late-night drives through Monaco, your legs propped up on his dashboard. His arm around you after a race, champagne still clinging to his skin. The way he looked at you, like you were his whole world.

And maybe you were.

Maybe, for a time, he was yours too.

You miss him. Not the version of him you get now, careful and distant, but the Max who used to call you at 3 a.m. just to talk. The Max who used to sit on your bathroom counter while you took off your makeup, who would trace patterns into your wrist absentmindedly as you talked about the future.

That version of Max doesn’t exist anymore.

Or maybe he does. Maybe he’s just buried under the weight of a relationship that isn’t meant for him.

She’s the safe choice. The quiet, easy path. She’ll never demand the real version of him, but she’s there and for now that’s enough for him.

Your fingers hover over his name in your phone, heart hammering in your chest. You shouldn’t call.

But you want to.

Call me when you break up.

The words sit on the tip of your tongue, but you swallow them down.

Instead, you type a message you’ll never send.

We’re so meant for each other, when will you wake up?

You read the words, and the weight of them sinks deep in your chest. But you delete them immediately. They’re too raw. Too desperate. Too honest.

With a shaky breath, you shut off your phone, the screen fading to black.

The thing about being in love with Max Verstappen is that you never really stop waiting.

You wait for him to see you. Wait for him to realise what you've always known. Wait for the moment when he’ll turn to you and say, it was always you.

But waiting is exhausting.

And you're tired of feeling like an afterthought.

So you do what any rational, heartbroken person would. You try to forget.

You let strangers buy you drinks, let them whisper sweet nothings into your ear, let them kiss you in the dark corners of bars where no one knows your name. You chase distractions, hoping that one of them will make you feel something, anything, other than the ache of missing him.

But they never do.

Because none of them are Max.

And maybe that’s why when your phone rings one night, his name flashing across the screen, you still answer without hesitation. Because this isn’t the first time. It’s become a pattern. A quiet, painful ritual. A fight with her. A call to you.

"Hey."

He sounds off. Tired. Worn down in a way you’ve never heard before.

"Can I come over?"

Your pulse spikes. "Max—"

"I just… I don’t want to be alone right now."

The unspoken words hang between you.

I don’t want to be with her right now.

You exhale shakily. "Yeah. Of course."

Twenty minutes later, the doorbell rings, cutting through the silence that had settled over your apartment like a heavy fog. You stand frozen for a moment, uncertainty crawling up your spine, before you force your legs to move.

He looks wrecked. Like he hasn't slept in days. He doesn't say anything at first, just steps inside, closing the distance between you in a way that makes your breath catch.

"Did something happen?" you ask softly.

Max shakes his head, exhaling sharply. "I just needed to see you."

The space between you closes with a speed that makes your pulse skip. It’s like he’s always known the exact way to find you, to make everything else fade away, to pull you back in like you’re a magnet and he’s the force that won’t let you escape.

His eyes search yours, and it’s in that moment you realise he knows.

He knows he's with the wrong person.

He knows that no matter how much he tries to pretend, it’s always been you.

But knowing something and choosing it are two entirely different things.

And you’re tired. Tired of waiting for him to make the right choice. Tired of standing here, always second. Always the backup when things aren’t perfect in his world.

So you step back, putting space between you that feels like a chasm.

"You can’t do this," you whisper. "You can't just run to me when things go wrong with her. It’s not fair."

His jaw tightens at your words, the muscle in his cheek twitching, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he looks down, taking a long breath, his chest rising and falling with the weight of something unspoken. You can see the frustration, the guilt in the way his shoulders tense, but it doesn’t change anything.

"I—"

"You love me Max." Your throat tightens, interrupting him before he can pull you in, and you hate the way your voice cracks on the last word, but you don’t care. "I know you do."

Silence.

Painful, suffocating silence.

But then—

"I do." His voice is raw, like the words are being torn from him. "I do love you."

Your breath stutters. "Then why are you still with her?"

Max opens his mouth to respond, but the words die on his lips. His eyes dart away from yours, like he’s trying to find the right thing to say but can’t. He clenches his fists at his sides, and the tension in his body is palpable. "I... I don’t know," he mutters, voice thick. "I don’t know what I’m supposed to do."

"You’re supposed to choose Max!" Your voice cracks, the frustration bubbling over.

He opens his mouth again, but the words won't come. You watch him struggle, like he’s stuck in a loop of his own making. "I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to hurt you," he says, regret creeping in.

"But you have," you say, your voice steady but filled with everything you’ve been holding in. "You have hurt me Max. And you don’t get to keep doing that and expect me to just be here when you feel like it."

Max takes a step toward you, but you shake your head, stepping back. "No," you whisper, shaking your head. "You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to have me when it’s convenient for you. You either choose me, or you don’t."

Max opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. Because there’s no excuse. No reason good enough.

Just fear.

Of change. Of consequences. Of finally choosing what’s real over what’s easy.

And you? You’re done waiting for him to be brave.

So you smile, even though it hurts. Even though your heart is shattering.

"Call me when you break up."

Then you shut the door.

omg so this last race 😭😭 lots to discuss. i will be posting a lando fic soon (i’m not mad at him anymore yayy) and also i’ll try to post the other fics i had planned to (a max one and a charles x alex) but right now i’m more focused on the spotify wrapped special so i’ll try to go through those requests between today and tomorrow and then we roll 😁

mess it up | jude bellingham

pairing: british!tennis player!reader x jude bellingham

summary: jude already messed up his relationship with you once, he’s not gonna do it again if he can get a second chance

fc: emma raducanu

request: here

a/n: i love tennis so much so this request was very exciting! also a bit general so i got carried away (the timeline is a bit weird and some of the tournaments and courts aren’t gonna match so let’s just ignore that)

—

liked by judebellingham, lissiemackintosh and others

wta say hello to your miami open winner 🇺🇸 congratulations to the incredible yourusername! your talent is unmatched 🎾

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username congratulations y/n!!!

username truly a generational talent 🎉

username i can’t wait for her to win a grand slam

username whatttt is jude doing in here omg

username that like did NOT went unnoticed

username he also started following the wta profile 😭

username my man wants to be informed

yourusername ❤️❤️❤️

liked by judebellingham, lilymhe and others

yourusername the post-winning feeling 🤍

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username amazing win y/n!

username what a woman

username best player on tour confirmed

username ohhh she’s gonna be number 1 soon you just wait

lilymhe SO PROUD OF YOU 💘

yourusername love youuu 💗

username jude liking this 😭

username he just followed her again omg!!

username are my parents getting back together?

liked by vinijr, trentarnold66 and others

judebellingham madrid always

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username casually dropping the most breathtaking pics on a wednesday afternoon

username the plaza de españa appreciation 🥺

username patiently waiting for him to make a move on y/n since she’s in madrid as well

username PLS leave my girl alone she’s playing a masters 1000 she doesn’t need the distraction

username but is not a distraction! is jude!

username exactly! her ex.

username jude in the madrid open when 👀

username ABSOLUTELY NOT

liked by judebellingham, iga.swiatek and others

yourusername so lovely madrid 🇪🇸 my first win here and i couldn’t be anymore grateful ❤️

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username y/n congratulations that was amazing🙏🏽

username girlie is in a roll with these opens

username and look who’s in the likes again 👀

username he’s really not wasting any time huh

username her outfits this tournament where *chef kiss* 🤌🏽

username such an icon

[judebellingham’s instagram stories] [yourusername’s instagram stories]

[caption 1: ❤️🇪🇸] [caption 2: 🤍🌬️]

liked by judebellingham, yourusername and others

wta it’s match day! (for y/n and for england 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿)

tagged yourusername

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username which could mean nothing

username rooting for you y/n 🥳

username oh i want her to win wimbledon so bad 😩

username jude liking this!

username after they were allegedly (obviously) together in madrid … thinking thoughts

username it’s a great day for the girlies (y/n playing and rumors of her getting back together with jude)

yourusername’s instagram stories

[caption 1: training🎾] [caption 2: let’s go england! 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿]

judebellingham’s instagram stories

[caption 1: this team💙] [caption 2: 🎾]

liked by judebellingham, lilymhe and others

yourusername proof that there’s a rainbow after the storm 🌈 us open you took the broken pieces of my heart and put them together one by one ❤️ MY FIRST GRAND SLAM🥹

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username SO DESERVED 🥺

username congratulations y/n you deserve it so much 👏🏽

username first of many 💗💗💗

lilymhe you are INSANE i love you you deserve this so much ❤️‍🩹

yourusername love love love you ❤️‍🩹

username bloody good job y/n 🏆

username YOU ARE EPIC

username after wimbledon this is so incredible, y/n you are brilliant 🥹👏🏽

judebellingham so proud ❤️

yourusername ❤️‍🩹

this is just 🤌🏽🤌🏽🤌🏽

after midnight ⋆ lestappen

pairing: lestappen x driver!reader

summary: charles doesn't want to accept that he has feelings for both of max and you

word count: 1.8K

warnings: making out, grope? (idk how to saying in english, but in spanish would be meter mano o manosear)

a/n: part 2 coming soon!!

masterlist | wattpad | letterboxd

Max and Y/N had once again achieved a 1-2, it was the third consecutive race they had achieved this result.

Everyone was cheering their names, and then there was Charles. He had managed to finish third because George DNF'd on the last lap and he took his place in the race.

Charles had always felt a mixture of envy and admiration for the Red Bull duo.

Envy for their driving style and tactics to win all the races and admiration for their personalities. Max stood out simply for being himself, calculating and fierce both on and off the track, his blue eyes sent shivers down Charles' spine. Even more so when he saw him without the fireproofs.

Y/N was slighty warmer than him, but still he feared her, with a somewhat rebellious driving style, Y/N had won the championship last year and was fighting for her second. She was much more open than Max and she was the one who humanized the team, separating her person from her race number very well. Most of the time she was Y/N L/N, when she got into the car she was simply the 1. It was impossible not to fall in love with her, from the moment she joined the competition she had become the girl of the paddock, the representative of all women in motorsport, and she wore it with pride. She has collaborated to form the F1 Academy, has financed dozens of girls to make a place for themselves in the sport and now she was forming her own F1 Academy team with Rare Beauty as a collaborator. She was an ambitious, determined, and also beautiful woman, Charles had found it impossible to resist her.

The most surprising thing was how well Max and Y/N got along off the track, they lived relatively close in Monaco and there had been several times when they had been seen having dinner together. Most of the people said they only had common friends, a few said there was something more than friendship.

The chemistry was undeniable, Y/N brought out the best side of Max in interviews and Max knew how to stop Y/N when she talked too much.

Charles knew the podium was going to be uncomfortable, Max and Y/N celebrating their victories and pouring champagne on each other, and Charles just being there, knowing that neither of them cared at all about his P3.

Surprisingly, Y/N approached him and patted him on the shoulder as she congratulated him, but immediately Max once again drew all of Y/N's attention by soaking her with champagne. Charles drank from his bottle as he watched Max half-kneeling and Y/N pouring champagne from her bottle into his mouth.

That scene caused Charles a strange sensation. Seeing Max like that, slightly kneeling with his hair and suit dampened by a mixture of alcohol and sweat. Y/N with the glow of victory in her eyes and her suit adapting to the curves of her body.

There was something so sexual about that scene that it overwhelmed Charles. His attraction to Y/N he had assimilated, with just a couple of words he knew she would be the woman of his dreams. The problem was that when he was with Max that feeling doubled. The idea of ​​not being a spectator anymore and being with both of them made his heart race.

After finishing all the interviews, Y/N approached Charles. "Hey, we're going to get a drink, wanna come?"

Charles blinked. "Me?"

He pointed to himself, surprised by the invitation and interaction. In all those years he had hardly ever spoken to Y/N, except for business matters, which made her even more ethereal.

Y/N laughed in a natural way and brushed her hair away from her face. "Sure. Max and I usually have a drink with whoever comes third, and today it was you." By the way she said it, it seemed like it was already a routine. "So? Do you feel like it?"

"Uh, yes, yes. I'd love to," he nodded, perhaps a bit too eagerly.

"Great!" she said with a smile. Charles was impressed by her constant naturalness. "We'll get dressed up and then see you at the club."

Y/N gave him a squeeze on the shoulder and left the paddock with Max, who had been present throughout the conversation from a prudent distance.

At the after-party - for lack of a better term - there were many people from Red Bull, too many, and Charles felt like an intruder. He locked eyes with Y/N, who gestured to him as soon as she saw him. She was at a table almost in the center of the place with Max, some friends, and Lando Norris. That guy was always everywhere.

"Charles! Come here, come on. What do you want to drink?" exclaimed Y/N.

Charles approached, somewhat impressed by all of this. Y/N made room for him next to her and instead of fist-bumping, she gave him two kisses. Max, on the other hand, stretched his arm over Y/N to greet him and then left his arm around her shoulders, bringing her closer to his chest. Y/N didn't mind.

"P3, huh? That was very good," commented Max.

Y/N groaned immediately. "We always talk about races, let's talk about something interesting."

"Isn't Formula interesting?" Max spoke, tilting his head.

"Not with you," said Y/N.

They all laughed and Max made a face.

Y/N once again focused all her attention on Charles, he noticed how Y/N's heel was circling around his calf.

"What about your love life, Charlie?" she asked, without hesitation.

The nickname caught Charles off guard, and even more so the question. If she was asking, it was because she cared.

Max clicked his tongue, telling him he didn't have to answer.

How was Charles going to explain that every time he had felt some sexual desire it had been because of her and her teammate? "Boring," he ended up saying, with a slight frown.

"Oh, come on!" she exclaimed, almost disappointed. "How can it be boring? You're too handsome for your love life to be boring."

Charles lowered his gaze with a silly smile, noticing that Max hadn't stopped looking at him, as if he too were expectant of the answer.

"Don't listen to her, Charles. She rambles when she's drunk," commented Max, rolling his eyes a bit.

"And you get a thousand times more boring when you drink," Y/N gave Max a pat on the thigh, too close to the crotch for some to think.

Y/N drank from Max's gin and tonic and relaxed against his chest because no one was starting a conversation. She quickly got bored and looked at Max with a pout. "Will you dance with me?"

"No," he replied immediately.

"You asshole," Y/N wasted no time. "Charles?"

Charles looked up from his drink. "Huh?"

"Let's dance," she didn't even ask, she got up and pulled Charles' arm while flipping Max off before heading to the dance floor.

Charles knew she had only pulled him to dance to mess with Max, but that moment was like living a fever dream. The music hardly had any lyrics, it was pure beats on instruments. Y/N pressed her body against his in time with the music, so much so that sometimes it seemed like she was rubbing against him.

"You have beautiful eyes, Charlie," Y/N said, getting close to his ear so much that he could almost hear her saliva. She put an arm over his shoulder and kept dancing.

"Thank you," he replied, not knowing what else to say.

Their faces were getting closer and closer, while both could feel Max's gaze on them. When their noses brushed, it was Y/N who stopped, looking at him for a few seconds. She removed her arm from Charles's shoulder and bit her lip, as if she were nervous.

"Hold on, I have to talk to Max," she declared, before leaving the dance floor, leaving Charles stranded and confused.

He returned to the table, not knowing what had happened, but Max and YN were no longer sitting there. Lando pointed in the direction they had gone. He found them leaning against the door of what seemed to be a private room in the club; for a moment, he thought they were arguing because of the tone of their voices, but as he listened to the conversation, he began to feel chills.

"You like him too," Y/N insisted. "Deny it. Deny that it doesn't turn you on when you see him in the fireproofs."

"Damn, yes. But it doesn't matter, I've already told you he won't want to," Max grumbled, with a distressed expression.

"You don't know that," Y/N clenched her jaw.

"He's very uptight, and insecure."

Those two words echoed in Charles's head. Insecure… he knew he was, but he hadn't realized until now that other people might notice it.

"Max, I really want him," Y/N complained. "Just imagining him watching us fuck already turns me on, imagine with us in bed." She pressed herself against Max's chest, with a grimace.

Charles felt an instant satisfaction knowing that they also fantasized about him, at least he wasn't the only weird one. He thought about the possibilities of joining the conversation, or just letting them know he was there.

"Are you Charles Leclerc? Can we take a photo?"

Before Charles could react, Y/N and Max peeked their faces around the door, her with a little smile and him slightly nervous. It was an awkward moment while the fan took the photo, but when he left, both Max and Y/N were looking at him with crossed arms and feline eyes.

"How long have you been there?" Max questioned, raising his eyebrows. He thought his friendship with Charles was going to become quite awkward after that.

Charles didn't waste time. "I… I want to,"

Max and Y/N looked at each other, with a devilish smile.

"Really?" confirmed Max.

"Yes,"

Max didn't need anything else to pull him into the room and close the door behind them. Surprisingly, Charles and he were the first to kiss while Y/N watched them. Then Y/N attacked Charles's lips at the same time as Max left marks on his girlfriend's neck. Being in the middle of the two was too much for her; having so many hands on her made her messy. Eager for more, she pulled Charles's hand towards her inner thigh. He stopped at that exact moment.

A feeling of guilt, almost shame, overwhelmed him. The other two noticed it and stopped as well. "Is something wrong?" Y/N placed her hand on Charles's thigh, but that only made him stand up as soon as he felt the contact.

"I can't…" Charles didn't finish the sentence. "I better go."