Crashing Down
pairing: Max Verstappen x Wolff!Reader x Lando Norris
word count: +/- 2300
plot: Where reader had a terrible crash two years ago, Lando broke up with her, Toto is back into his scheming ways and Max is just there.
note: I haven't used this account in years, but I genuinely missed writing and thought this was a great way of coming back. I have this entire story planned out, but I am not sure if it's good enough. Please let me know if you're interested.
masterlist
It was 2024. The new racing season was about to begin, with the yearly reminder that you were forced to stand on the sidelines. The roaring engines of the current generation of Formula 1 cars echoed through the Mercedes garage you were currently settled in.
This sound once fueled your entire driving force, and you first discovered this passion when you visited the racing ground with your parents as a child. It must have been twenty years ago. You were around five or six years old. Since that moment, the sound of engines has been a constant presence in your life.
Anticipation and excitement surged through your body as you lowered yourself for the first time in the car of your biggest idol, Lewis Hamilton. Then, the adrenaline rush followed. It was a moment of realisation as if you had found the path you were destined to follow. This feeling was something you wanted to continue to crave after, and it, racing, became your daily motivation. You were okay with wherever you raced, the important matter was that you were in the car, and the engine roared as loud as possible. The sound became a bittersweet reminder of your unfulfilled dreams as time passed. Instead of contemplating your next race and how you could receive a podium finish or, ideally, take home the trophy, you were consumed by persistent thoughts of missed opportunities and countless “what ifs”.
Your fingers brushed against the faded scar on your upper right leg. It was a hot day, so the scar was visible to everyone. It wasn’t pretty, but you rather had the visual reminder of that terrible Sunday afternoon than the mental one that hunted you daily. It’d still hurt, the ache being a reminder of the crash that had taken everything from you. Your life afterwards instantly became a stark contrast to the life you once lived, and the sport you loved dearly had slipped through your fingers.
As life progressed, with or without your approval, you continued to be a part of the Mercedes crew, but everything changed. Everyone moved on. Your father had to assign someone else your seat. George Russell was your replacement. Initially, it’d hurt to see him wearing your suit, your helmet, and have him sitting in your car. Dinners at home were silent. Your parents were afraid to hurt your feelings by talking about how well George was adjusting next to Lewis. It was a thought that occupied your dreams, but you were better, at least a little better, and you decided you were ready to move on. Perhaps not as a racing driver, but you couldn’t let go of the motorsport entirely. At least not yet.
You stood at the edge of the Mercedes garage, watching as the pit crew worked on their preparations for the weekend’s race. The crew hasn’t changed much since you last were in the garage. Many familiar faces of engineers, mechanics and staff greeted, hugged, and welcomed you back. But you could sense the stress and tension through the smiling faces. Everyone was working more hours than intended to have the best car possible for the first race of the season. Everyone was equally important, including you, whether you were a racing driver or not.
As you stood at the edge of your father’s garage, your gaze drifted across the other side of the grid, landing on the orange-coloured banner of McLarens’ garage. Coincidentally, it was when Lando Norris decided to display his newly found confidence. His arm hugged his helmet tight as he was in the middle of a conversation with a few members of his team. Next to him stood his current girlfriend, watching him like he was the brightest sun.
A pang hit your chest. It was as if someone stabbed you with a knife and then twisted it. Again, and again, and again. You hadn’t expected Lando to replace you as well. The crash had driven a wedge between you, something neither of you knew how to fix. Fear, pain, trauma, and Lando’s career further strained the distance between you. And you both just let it happen. It wasn’t either of your faults. It felt like it was something that was entirely out of your hands. Eventually, the love that was once there was replaced with memories and excoriating silence.
It was hard, yes. But the fact Lando moved on after two weeks was cruel. On the bright side, the pain of your broken heart numbed the pain of your injuries.
Unconsciously, you were twisting the ring on your finger. Honestly, you hadn’t expected to still feel like a drowned, sad baby bunny after two years of not setting foot on the grid. Seeing him, seeing how he’d moved on, was painful, but hearing how the media knew was something else entirely. Your relationship wasn’t a secret, per se. You just never announced it, but people noticed the secret glances and the time you spent together when you weren’t preparing for a race. He never shared anything about you, and you just accepted it. Funnily enough, you still would.
Your father’s voice cut through your thoughts, pulling you back to the present. Brooding was something you did every day after your crash, and you were thankful your father helped you when you got caught in too deep.
“Hey,” he called, walking towards you.
“I wanted to ask if you wanted to join the strategy meeting in fifteen minutes.”
You nodded, “Sure, of course.” Toto paused. He was a considerate team principal but an even more worried father. Since you had asked to join the 2024 season, he had been unsure if it was the best for you. Toto gave you a long look. “Are you alright?”
“I enjoyed plotting strategies to outsmart the other drivers, not just outrace them,” you said with a soft smile.
You noticed your father’s smile turn to a worrying frown. You knew he didn’t want to push you. If it were up to him, you were still at home, watching everything from a TV screen, but he also knew it was in his daughter’s blood to be a part of this world, just as much as it was in his. You had the same fire and the same relentless drive to succeed, especially when it came to motorsport.
As father and daughter made their way to the Mercedes motorhome, the world of Formula 1 came to life. Photographers snapped shots of drivers and team members, while the media and fans went into vulture mode as soon as a driver, or someone who looked like one, walked by them. You became indifferent to the whole ordeal after your second race weekend. The grid was the place you had grown up in, after all.
You felt the flash from one of the photographers’ cameras as you walked through the grid. A little smile started to grow on your face. You were not behind the wheel anymore, not one of the twenty drivers everyone talked about, but it was still the only place that felt like home.
Your mind wandered once more, revisiting your days as a racing driver. You had been good, no, not just good, one of the best. However, everyone makes mistakes, and you were no exception. A single misjudgment had cost you everything. The crash had been brutal and a terrifying reminder of the thin line between life and death in the world of motorsport. Fortunately, you had survived, but your career was not as fortunate. Now, all that remained was walking the paddock as Toto’s daughter, attending meetings, and most frustratingly were the pitying looks from those who stole a glimpse of you.
You had almost reached the Mercedes motorhome as you heard a familiar voice rang out. “Wait!”
You turned around to see the current world champion, Max Verstappen, approaching in his usual attire. His confident stroll, with his head held high and a slight smile playing on his lips, carried him effortlessly through the grid. He had always been like that, confident, walking with a certain amount of presence that made it impossible not to notice him. Whether he was the reigning champion or not, he had this essence.
But Max Verstappen was more than just the fiery Red Bull Racing driver, at least to you. He was one of your closest friends and the rock who had been there for you when the world came tumbling down.
“Are you ready for a weekend of chaos?” Max asked, grinning as he stopped in front of you, leaning casually against the stanchion of the motorhome.
You laughed, rolling your eyes. “As ready as ever. How about you?”
Max shrugged. “You know me. I thrive on chaos.” His eyes flashed mischievously, hinting at his love for excitement.
The friendship between the two of you had always been stable. It was built on a shared understanding of being born into a family of motorsport fanatics, mutual respect and the everlasting feeling of stepping in a Formula 1 car simultaneously for the first time in your career.
On top of that, Max never saw you as weak, fragile or broken after your accident. He never showed you pity but instead gave you space or an embrace when you grieved everything you had lost.
He smiled, but there was something softer in his gaze when he looked at you. “You know, it’s good to see you out here again. I know it’s not the same, but…”
You swallowed a breath you didn’t know you held and nodded. You understood what Max tried to say even if he didn’t finish his sentence. He was right. It wasn’t the same. It never would be. But being here, the place you used to call home, mended a piece of you you had been missing for the past two years.
Before Max could say more, Toto cleared his throat behind them. “The meeting is going to start soon. We need to go.”
Max straightened and pushed himself off, offering a nod to Toto. “Good luck this weekend.”
Toto smiled politely in return. “You too, Max.”
As Max strolled towards his team’s motorhome, Toto turned to you. “There’s something important I want to discuss about Max,” he exclaimed.
You raised an eyebrow, surprised by your father’s sudden change in tone. “What about him?”
“We need him at Mercedes.”
His words lingered in the air, and you blinked, caught off guard by your father’s directness. “Are you attempting to steal Max?” you uttered in a hushed tone.
“He’s the best driver on the grid. We need him for the future.”
Your father’s words took you aback. You had always believed you were destined to be the future of Mercedes, and there was no need for a Max or even a George. But you also couldn’t blame your father, or anyone for that matter. Lost in your thoughts, you realised you had been staring at your father in disbelief as he revealed his plan to take the brown-haired boy away from his supposed forever home.
“I didn’t expect to be involved in some kind of scheme,” you hushed, processing his words.
Toto nodded in understanding, but that didn’t stop him from letting go of the idea of adding the three-time world champion to his roster of drivers. “He trusts you. You have been racing together ever since you were little kids. You have a connection with him that no one else does. If anyone can get him to consider joining Mercedes, it’s you.”
You laughed at him, not believing what your father was saying. Lewis deciding to leave was a little drastic, but this…
He wasn’t wrong though. You and Max were close. But asking him to leave the place that he considered home? He said he wasn’t sure he would ever go. Red Bull was to Max what Mercedes was to you. His loyalty to the team and to Helmut Marko was like family.
“You’re asking a lot, dad,” you whispered, your mind racing with all the possible scenarios. Max could agree, and your anxious time on the grid would be much less, but he could also be enraged at the idea, being so offended by the thought you used him as a pawn to better your father’s team. Perhaps he would leave altogether? How were you supposed to survive this shit show then?
Your father’s gaze softened, but only slightly. “I know, pea, but the sport is always moving forward. We have to think two or three years ahead. I have to think about the future of Mercedes. And Max-”
He thought about his following couple of words carefully.
“Max is the future.”
You glanced back towards where Max went off to, the Red Bull motorhome, where he stood and chatted with a couple of crew members. You sighed, running your hand through your hair. Your father was right, and you hated it. George was good. But Max and George, and with your current expectations for your car in two years? Mercedes could be unstoppable.
But thinking about your father’s plan created a knot in your stomach. You didn’t want to lose him, you weren’t sure if he could be mad, or worse… And then there was Lando…
You pushed your thoughts aside, forcing yourself to stumble back into reality. You have to decide what your future holds. Was it your happiness? Mercedes? Max? Lando? It felt like your head was about to explode.
“I’ll talk to him,” you finally said, your voice the most steady it had been today.
Toto gave you a smile of appreciation. “Thank you, but it’s not going to be easy. We need to be careful. Max isn’t going to be an easy sell, but if anyone can change his mind, it’s my daughter.”
You were unsure whether that was a compliment or a burden. You also weren’t sure if it was a good decision.
This was just the beginning of something much bigger, on and off the track.
