f1paddockclub biggest LH44 fan in the paddock this grand prix π
liked by willne
ynfan1 yn in the likes HELLO!?
β³ user4 subtly hinting towards her hatred to christian horner CANT ARGUE WITH THAT π
lando mclaren garage is missing rodds already
liked by redbullracing, willne, and 302,082 others
yourusername successful weekend in monaco full of cars drinks and fun π«Ά
view all 10,328 comments
ynlvr12 once again proving the red bull second seat theory wrong LOVE IT
user9 not her almost tripping on the podium ππ
redbullracing iconic π
lando spraying me with that champagne was NOT fun
β³ yourusername aw ill make sure to do it again next time π€
roddsenjoyer okay why is willne here too HELLO DIEHARD HAMILTON FAN!?
β³ user10 i bet heβll convert into a yn fan soon enough
β³ roddsenjoyer from mercedes to ferrari to red bull incoming π
liked by yourusername
alexandrasaintmleux β€οΈ
β³ yourusername π€
liked by willne, ieuan_thomas, and 103,235 others
jamesmarriottyt recent shoots from london (featuring the creature)
willne I am NOT a creature
liked by yourusername
user13 the recent will video was class
β³ user14 the whole red bull jacket segment was so funny
β³ user13 the audible disgust and all made me scream π
ynfan7 sheβs always lurking nowadays
β³ user9 the same way sheβs slowly closing in on george russell in the drivers championship lowkey
liked by redbullracing, yourusername, f1, and 105,829 others
willne had the honour to make an appearance on hot laps at the Spanish GP. Thanks to the red bull team and @yourusername for bringing me out for a spin π
ynsfrontwing just me or these two are lowkey soft launching something π
β³ roddsenjoyer i can sense the announcement already
jamesmarriottyt shouldβve been me βΉοΈ
β³ yourusername true you wore that red bull jacket with pride unlike.. cough cough
β³ willne caught me red handed
βββββ±ββ°ββββ
ynfan13 anyone else see that one f1 tea page post some alleged photos of yn and that willne guy in london apparently π
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β³ ynlvr0 i thought i was the only one NO WAY THATS THEM
β³ user3 the way his hand was around her π΅βπ«
β³ user9 doesnβt she also have a pet dog..? basil reincarnated??
β³ ynfan13 YOU DID NOT. I LOVE IT.
β³ user20 wait iβm slow can someone send it to me..?
β³ ynfan13 HERE!!
liked by ynfan13, ynsfrontwing, f1tea, and 23,035 others
F1insidertv NEW DRAMA INSIGHT!! yn, red bull racingβs driver as of this season has allegedly been spotted out with her recent hot laps partner willne, a well known british youtuber down in london. sources arenβt confirmed but sure as hell seem believable π
comments are disabled
βββββ±ββ°ββββ
liked by pierregasly, yukitsunoda0511, and 136,025 more
yourusername never doing karaoke againβ¦
view all comments
roddsenjoyer WHOS DOG IS THAT..?
β³ ynfan08 her childhood baby as she calls him donβt worry not willβs long lost child π
yukitsunoda0511 how dare you disrespect my singing βΉοΈ
β³ yourusername correction yours AND pierreβs..
your ex cheated. you dumped him. simple, clean, no tearsβjust a block, a race win, and an innocent instagram post. you are over it. but your rookies? not so much.
somehow, theyβve formed a secret matchmaking club and are now trying to set you up with half the grid. you know. max knows. (heβs your very smitten, very amused boyfriend.) but neither of you say a word.
because watching them try? is way too entertaining.
fc : luvstruck on ig (love a tattooed baddie as a face claim)
original request is here.
(a/n) : this was so much fun for me. i hope you all enjoy! love youuuu
β
yourusername
liked by kimi.antonelli, olliebearman, isackhadjar and 4,550,700 others.
yourusername : his loss.
β
view 285,003 other comments.
username000 : did she finally leave that ugly demonic man?????
liked by yourusername
β³ username1 : oh thank god. we got our baddie backππ»
liked by yourusername
yourbff : man just couldnβt handle having a baddie. the funny thing is he canβt watch the race without seeing your name or face π
liked by yourusername
β³ yourusername : he shall never know peace.
liked by yourbff
yoursister : i can hear the streets callinβπ§ββοΈ
liked by yourusername
β³ yourusername : call me pluto cuz im alr in them
liked by yoursister
β³ yoursister : where are your children? its rare i make it here before they do.
liked by yourusername
β³ yourusername : oh they will be here within like the next 10 seconds
liked by yoursister
β³ olliebearman : heyyyy so whatβs his address? so i can send a hitman.
liked by yoursister, yourbff and yourusername
isackhadjar : if i see that man IT IS ON SIGHT.
liked by yourusername
lando : if i were him id never leave the house ever again, not just because of the 6 angry children at my door but just out of sheer embarrassment from what i fumbled.
liked by yourusername
kimi.antonelli : im small but i can bite ankles. he is a dead man. im going to kill him
liked by yourusername
gabrielbortoleto_ : yn i cannot handle these vague captions. pls answer the group chat. im spiraling and about to hire someone to do horrible things.
liked by yourusername
β³ isackhadjar : i feel sick to my stomach.
liked by yourusername
β³ olliebearman : i just threw up
liked by yourusername
β³ kimi.antonelli : i am pacing
liked by yourusername
β³ jackdoohan : just threw my phone across the room
liked by yourusername
β³ yourusername : guys, im fine. truly. it was for the best. i will call you all later!
β³ kimi.antonelli : yn did he hurt you?? i destroy his entire bloodline
β³ isackhadjar : stop lying. you are ignoring our texts. you never do.
β³ olliebearman : ok well he hurt you so we will just find him and kill him. its all taken care of
β³ gabrielbortoleto_ : cannot believe you are just ghosting your six emotionally unstable children.
username07 : the rookies falling apart in the comments while yn is unfazed is taking me OUT.
alex_albon : he peaked in high school and drives a toyota π and now fumbled an f1 driverβ¦him being him is punishment enough
liked by yourusername
β³ yourusername : i canβt with you π
oscarpiastri : absolutely no clue what happened but i instantly take your side. he is a dick.
liked by yourusername
alexandrasaintmleux : he fumbled so i could have youπ
β³ kimi.antonelli : you let us in or we break the door down
β³ yourusername : im sure that breaking and entering is already somewhere on oliverβs crime list so lets not add to it. come on over kids.
β³ gabrielbortoleto_ : YAYYYYYYYY
β³ jackdoohan : on my way! (already outside of your apartment)
β³ isackhadjar : i have been sitting in the hallway since this was posted.
β³ yourusername : get in hereπ
username15 : these kids love their grid mum π€§
β
flashback
You hadnβt expected the night to end in a breakup. But maybe you shouldβve.
It started with his phoneβleft unlocked, screen facing up, buzzing like a warning. You hadnβt meant to look. But you did. A message preview lit up like a punch to the chest.
last night was the best;) miss you already xx
You didnβt open it. You didnβt need to. The way your stomach dropped told you everything you werenβt ready to admit.
You sat there for a few seconds, staring at the screen. His voice filtered in from the bathroomβsome off-key humming, clueless and careless. It made you feel numb. Or maybe free. You werenβt sure which yet.
When he walked back in, grinning like he still had you, you held the phone up.
βYou should really be more careful with your passwords,β you said calmly.
His expression dropped. βBabe, itβs not what it looks likeββ
βIt looks like youβre sleeping with someone who isnβt me.β
You didnβt yell. Didnβt cry. Didnβt even let him finish his half-assed explanation. You just grabbed your heels, your pride, and your keys, and walked out the door like it owed you nothing.
You texted your girls on the way out.
club. now. i finally left the bum.
By midnight, you were wrapped in black mesh and revenge-red lipstick.
The bass vibrated through your bones, and the margarita in your hand burned in the best way. Your friends were already dancing like the world was ending, and for the first time in months, you felt alive.
And then you saw him. Max.
Standing at the bar with a half-finished drink and that usual unreadable expressionβuntil he looked up and saw you.
His eyes flicked over you once, slow and deliberate, before his lips curled into the smallest smirk. He lifted his drink in silent acknowledgment, and you raised your brow like, Donβt test me. But he didnβt walk away.
No, he walked toward youβunhurried, completely sure of himself, like heβd been waiting for you to show up all night.
βYou good?β he asked, leaning in just enough to be heard over the music.
You shrugged, grinning. βBetter than ever.β
He studied you for a second longer. βYou look free. Like you finally let go of that one thing that was dragging you down.β
You met his gaze head-on. βMaybe I did. But I donβt regret it.β
Something about your voiceβclear, certain, maybe a little dangerousβmade him nod slowly. Like he knew that version of you. Like heβd met her before in himself.
He didnβt say anything for a moment, just offered his hand. βCome dance with me.β
And God help you, you said yes. One song bled into another, and suddenly you were dancing like your skin was on fire, like the world couldnβt touch you anymore. Max wasnβt just keeping upβhe matched you. Step for step, stare for stare, like the two of you spoke the same language in a rhythm only you could hear.
You didnβt remember leaning in. You didnβt remember whose hand touched whose waist first.
But you do remember the way his lips brushed yours, soft and warm and slow at firstβlike he was asking a question. And how you answered with a kiss that tasted like tequila and freedom.
When you finally pulled away, breathless, Max just looked at you with that same amused smirk and said, βDefinitely his loss.β
You laughed. You werenβt just fine. You were starting over.
β
The sunlight hit your face before the memory did. Warm. Gentle. Relentless.
You blinked a few times, groggy and still wrapped in that heavy limbed softness that comes from too many drinks and not enough regrets. The room smelled faintly of something distinctly Maxβclean, expensive, and just a little smug.
You rolled over. He was already awake.
Lying there, one arm folded behind his head, chest bare, the sheets dangerously low on his hips. His other hand held his phone, which he casually tossed aside when he noticed you looking.
βMorning,β he said, voice rough, sleepy.
You groaned into the pillow. βTell me we didnβt do something stupid.β
Max tilted his head. βDefine stupid.β
Your eyes narrowed. He smiled.
βWe danced,β he said. βYou kissed me. Twice. And then you tried to start a debate about tire compounds in the elevator.β
You winced. βSounds like me.β
He laughed under his breath, that low rumble sending a shiver down your spine.
βBut no,β he added, softer this time. βYou were upset. So I brought you back here. You changed into my shirt, stole all the covers, and fell asleep with your face in my shoulder.β
You blinked. βI didnβt kiss you again?β
He hesitated. βYou almost did. Then you said something about how βthis doesnβt count when youβre drunkβ and knocked out cold.β
You groaned again. βGod. Sorry.β
βDonβt be,β he said, without missing a beat. βIt was the best night Iβve had in a long time.β
You looked over at him, eyes soft. βYou sure? I was kind of a mess.β
Max shrugged. βYou were real. Thatβs what I want to see.β
For a second, the air stilled between you. No jokes. No tension. Just quiet understanding. Youβd kissed him the night before thinking it was a one time thingβsparked by adrenaline, tequila, and heartbreak. But lying here now, in his bed, wearing his shirt and breathing in his space.
He shifted, propping himself up on one elbow. βSoβ¦ breakfast?β
You blinked. βYouβre offering to feed me now?β
βIβm offering to bribe you with pancakes so you donβt ghost me later.β
You smirked, climbing out of bed and grabbing your phone.
βI donβt ghost,β you said, pausing by the door. βBut fair warningβonce I post a thirst trap, our children are going to lose their minds.β
Max grinned, already reaching for his shirt. βPerfect. Let them panic.β
And as you headed to the bathroom, still wearing nothing but his t-shirt and a smirk, you realized somethingβYou really, really didnβt miss your ex.
β
present day
Itβs been a few weeks since that night. Since tequila and heartbreak and Max Verstappen.
Youβve seen him a few times since thenβquiet dinners in hotel rooms, lingering handholds between debriefs, shared glances across the paddock that made your stomach flip like a rookie on their debut lap. Itβs easy, exciting, safe in the strangest way. No pressure, no labels.
And somehow, for once, no noise. Just the two of you, figuring it out behind closed doors. Which is exactly why you shouldβve known that post would send the entire grid into DEFCON 1. Because you barely have time to finish brushing your teeth when it sounds like your whole front door is being broken down.
You freeze, toothbrush halfway to your mouth. Thenβ
DING DING DING DING.
βYN OPEN THE DOOR RIGHT NOW.β
You peek through the peephole. And there they are. All six of them. Kimi. Ollie. Isack. Jack. Franco. Gabriel.
Every last one of them in complete disarray. Jackβs hair is still wet. Gabrielβs holding a box of oreoβs, one stuffed into his mouth. Franco has absolutely no shoes on.
You blink. βGood morning?β
βYou canβt just post that and disappear,β Ollie blurts.
βYou owe us answers,β Jack adds, pushing inside like this is a crime scene. βDid he cheat? Did you dump him? Do I need to start training for violence?β
βIβm already in shape for violence,β Isack mutters.
βI brought Oreoβs,β Gabriel says, holding them up as a gift of peace.
Kimi just crosses his arms and stares you down. βWhat happened.β
You close the door behind them and sigh.
βNothing crazy,β you say, voice steady. βI found out he wasnβt who I thought he was. So I ended it.β
You head to the kitchen and start making coffee. Like this isnβt the opening scene of a Netflix special where the 2025 F1 Rookies begin a manhunt.
βButβ¦ are you okay?β Franco asks gently.
You turn and smile. βHonestly? Iβm great. Itβs probably the healthiest decision Iβve made in years.β
Kimi leans against the counter. βYou donβt have to be fine right now, you know.β
You sip your coffee and shrug. βI am fine. Genuinely. I donβt miss him. Thereβs nothing to cry over.β
Thereβs a beat of silence. Six sets of eyes narrow, exchanging looks like theyβve rehearsed this. You can feel the shift in the air. The whisper of an unspoken plan forming. But no one says it. No one says βweβre going to find you someone better.β No one says βweβve already made a list.β
Instead, Gabriel sits beside you. βOkay. Well, if youβre fineβ¦ weβre still staying for brunch.β
βObviously,β Franco says.
βNon-negotiable,β Isack adds.
Ollie leans forward, fake-casual. βSoβ¦ no one new in the picture yet?β
You raise an eyebrow. βAre you taking attendance for my love life now?β
He shrugs. βJust making conversation.β
You laugh. βWell, no. Thereβs nothing to report. Iβm enjoying being single.β
Half-true. You take another sip of coffee and hide your smirk. They all nod slowly. Quiet. Suspicious. Too quiet.
Gabrielβs already texting someone under the table. Jackβs typing into his Notes app. Franco looks like heβs trying to remember every eligible man on the grid. Kimi is definitely plotting a background check. You say nothing.
Because letting them believe youβre freshly single, emotionally vulnerable, and in need of saving? Is way too fun to correct.
β
The brunch was meant to be a quick thing. A little comfort, a little check-in, maybe a pastry or two.
But somewhere between the third round of pancakes and Kimi yelling at Jack for putting ketchup on eggs, it turned into something else.
You knew you were doomed the moment Ollie declared, mouth full of toast.
βYouβre not allowed to be alone today. Weβre going with you.β
Youβd laughed. Thought it was a joke. But now itβs two hours later, and theyβre all still here. You walk into the training facility like usual, hoodie up, bag slung over your shoulder, calm and collected. Behind you? Six men trailing in a chaotic single file like toddlers on a leash.
Gabrielβs rapidly texting on his phone. Francoβs wearing sunglasses indoors. Jackβs humming. Isack is trying to arm wrestle Kimi mid walk. Ollie keeps speed walking ahead of you, then backpedaling like a mall cop on edge.
βYou guys donβt actually have to stay,β you say for the fifth time, mildly exasperated.
βYes, we do,β Ollie insists. βWhat if your ex tries to talk to you again?β
βI blocked him.β
βWhat if he makes a burner account?β
βI blocked five burner accounts.β
Kimi snorts. βI told you sheβs too smart for him.β
Isack stretches like heβs preparing for a UFC match. βStill. Youβre emotionally delicate right now.β
You raise an eyebrow. βIβm emotionally fine.β
βSheβs in denial,β Jack whispers. βClassic phase two.β
You groan, swiping your pass at the entrance and holding the door open for your band of feral ducklings.
β
Youβre halfway through your warm-up laps when it happens. You jog around the corner of the facility and pass by a small group of guysβsome local trainers and junior athletes. You nod politely at them, earbuds in, barely noticing.
But they notice you. One of themβtall, maybe twenty-fiveβstares for a second too long. Not creepy. Just curious. And apparently, thatβs enough to start World War III. Because from across the room, you hear a voice yell.
βHEY. EYES UP, BRO. THATβS MY MOM.β
You stop in your tracks. Spin around. Ollie is storming toward the guy with a hand on his chest like heβs about to deliver the sermon of the year.
The poor guy looks so confused. βIβwhat?β
βSheβs a national treasure,β Ollie says, dead serious. βYou donβt ogle national treasures.β
You jog back over, cheeks already burning from embarrassment. βOllie. He just wanted an autograph.β
βNo he didnβt.β
βYes. Heβs holding a pen.β
The guy timidly raises his hand. βI just wanted to say hi. Iβm a fan.β
Ollie glares. You sigh and pat the fan on the shoulder. βItβs okay. I appreciate it.β
Behind you, Isack leans toward Franco. βShould we start screening everyone she interacts with?β
βAlready doing it,β Franco says, typing something into his phone. βI have a form.β
β
By mid-afternoon, theyβve followed you to recovery. Then to the simulator. Then back to your place, where they claim theyβre βjust checking your locks.β Kimi installs a door camera. Jack offers to sleep on your couch. Gabriel keeps offering to cook for you.
Every time you so much as look at your phone, someone leans over your shoulder.
Ollie squints, head on my shoulder. βWhoβs that?β
You sigh and chuckle. βMy nutritionist.β
Franco looks up at you. βOkay. Whatβs his intention?β
βMy nutrition.β
Eventually, you collapse onto the couch, arms folded, finally fed up.
βGuys,β you say flatly, βIβm not a baby deer in a storm. I am fine. No one needs to be screened. I donβt need a 24-hour security team. And I definitely donβt needββ
Ding. Your phone lights up. A message from Max.
You alive or are they still holding you hostage?
You smile at the screenβjust a little. Just enough for Isack to notice.
He leans forward. βWho was that.β
βJustβ¦ a friend.β
Six heads whip around.
βWHO.β
You roll your eyes and stand. βIβm going to shower. Please, for the love of god, do not follow me.β
They groan like theyβre being abandoned on a battlefield. And as you shut the bathroom door behind you, you hear Jack whisper.
βWe need to escalate. Operation Boyfriend starts now.β
β
f1gossipgirls
785,090 likes.
f1gossipgirls : Mercedes driver YN LN made her first paddock appearance since her rumored breakup β and if anyoneβs heartbroken, itβs definitely not her. Looking radiant and unbothered, she was welcomed with a big hug from teammate Kimi Antonelli and closely tailed by Isack Hadjar, who appeared glued to her side all day.
The real kicker? Her full squad of rookie ducklings followed her everywhere β from the garage to the grid walk to the drivers parade, forming what can only be described as a personal security detail (or cult? unclear). But we love this new and radiant Grid Mum!Β
β
view 185,090 other comments.
username000 : kimi hugging her like a baby koala was not on my 2025 bingo card but iβll take it
username00 : ollie: βshe doesnβt need usβ also ollie: breathing down the neck of anyone who looks at her for more than 0.2 seconds π
username0 : franco, gabriel, jack, ollie, kimi, and isack acting like sons to a woman only a few years older than them⦠peak formula 1 content
username1 : Grid Mum is such an accurate title like they would all FOLLOW HER INTO BATTLE π
username5 : iβve never been more proud of a woman iβve never met in my LIFE. she won. sheβs glowing. she has six rookies as her army. iconic behavior only.
β
The date with Carlos was scheduled with precision.
Ollie booked the restaurant himself, despite forgetting to ask whether you were allergic to seafood. Isack made a shared Google Doc of outfit suggestions. Franco literally coached Carlos on what not to say during the car ride there. Gabriel told you to βjust act natural,β which was rich coming from someone who panics ordering coffee.
Carlos, for his part, handled it like a champ.
βYou know they sent me a PDF,β he tells you, raising an eyebrow as the waiter pours wine.
You blink. βA PDF?β
He nods, fighting a smile. βTitle was βSo You Think You Can Date YN.ββ
You nearly choke on your water. βI swear to God.β
He grins. βVery detailed. They had a whole section on things not to mention. Like your ex. Or 2019 qualifying in Monaco.β
βFair,β you say, smirking.
To his credit, Carlos is very good at this. Charming, confident, a little teasing, but never pushy. He asks about your training, your favorite circuits, the meaning behind the small tattoo on your wrist. He compliments your eyes like he means it.
And for a second, you let yourself lean into it. Until you spot them. Behind Carlos, tucked into a booth near the corner?
The Ducklings.
Poorly disguised in sunglasses, hoodies, and baseball capsβlike a weird boyband on the run.
Jack has a menu held upside down. Gabriel is clearly filming on his phone. Ollie is wearing a fake moustache. Franco waves when you make eye contact. Kimi sits with his arms crossed like a bodyguard. And Isackβs justβ¦ staring at Carlos. Like he wants toΒ wrestle him across the table.
You bite back a laugh. Carlos follows your gaze, glancing over his shoulder. He turns back, grinning.
βShould we tell them I saw them an hour ago?β
βNo,β you say, sipping your wine. βLet them have their fun.β
He raises his glass. βTo the worst spies in F1 history.β
β
You donβt know how they convinced Pierre to do this. Maybe it was Francoβs charm. Maybe it was the rookie group chat descending into madness after βCarlos Date Day.β Or maybe Pierreβs just here for the chaos, as always.
Either way, here you are. Dress. Dinner. Dim lighting. And Pierre, in an offensively good shirt, holding out a chair like he was born for this.
βI must say,β he smirks, βthe moment they approached me with the idea, I said finally. Someoneβs letting me take the prettiest driver on the grid out.β
You snort. βDo you use that line often?β
He grins, absolutely unapologetic. βOnly when itβs true.β
You sit, trying not to smile too much. The restaurant is all low lighting and flickering candlesβPierreβs choice, obviously. He orders a bottle of wine in French, and the waiter actually blushes. You already regret letting Franco be in charge of the location.
βSo,β you say, narrowing your eyes playfully, βwhat did the Ducklings promise you?β
βAh,β he leans back dramatically, βthey said if I sweep you off your feet, I get Kimiβs sim time for the month.β
You blink. βThatβsβ¦ weirdly generous.β
βI know.β He raises his glass. βTheyβre getting desperate.β
You clink. βThey are insane.β
βInsanely devoted to you,β he corrects.
You pause. Let that sit. Because heβs not wrong. And thatβs when you spot them. The Ducklings. At it again.
Ollie and Isack behind the wine rack. Kimi pretending to be a server with an apron and a scowl. Jack crouching behind a decorative plant that is way too small. Gabriel and Franco sitting two tables over with fake menus covering their faces, whispering like spies.
You sigh into your wine. βThey are so bad at hiding.β
Pierre glances over, raises an eyebrow, and smirks. βShould we give them something to talk about?β
You lean forward, amused. βLike what?β
He doesnβt answer. Just raises a brow and slowly reaches across the table to take your hand, smooth and steady. In the background, someone gasps audibly. Definitely Isack. Pierre doesnβt flinch.
βThey need to believe Iβm a threat,β he says lowly, thumb brushing your knuckles. βOtherwise, whatβs the fun?β
You shake your head, trying not to laugh. βYouβre dangerous.β
βIβm French,β he says with a wink. βSame thing.β
β
over with the rookiesβ¦
βHEβS HOLDING HER HAND. HEβS HOLDING HER HAND.β Ollie panics into his little earpiece.
Isack sighs. βDeploying emotional damage protocol. Permission to interfere?β
Kimi sets the glass of water down at the table he is pretending to serve. βNegative. We observe. We do not assassinate.β
Gabriel smiles from behind the menu. βShe just looks so pretty. I wouldnβt be able to let go either.β
Franco starts panicking and fanning himself with said menu. βGuys. Sheβs smiling.β
Jack puts his head down. βItβs Carlos all over again. This is a spiral.β
Ollie face palms. βI told you we shouldβve gone with Alex first. He wouldβve been soft. Safe. Pierre has an agenda.β
β
Pierreβs still holding your hand when you laughβgenuine and loud and a little tipsy. The date has been fun, even if it feels like an elaborate school play. Heβs charming, flirty, just the right amount of dangerous. But stillβ¦
Not the one who sent you a photo of your coffee order this morning. Not the one who smirks every time the rookies panic. Not the one who hasnβt stopped texting you versions of βgood luck surviving themβ all day.
You finish dessertβchocolate tart and rookie glaresβand stand with Pierre as the waiter brings the bill. He leans close, lips brushing your cheek.
And it was. But the second you step outside and the rookies swarm you, dramatic as everβ
Ollie checks you over quickly, holding your arms. βARE YOU OKAY? DID HE POISON YOU WITH COMPLIMENTS?β
Isack rushes over, out of breath. βDO YOU HAVE EMOTIONAL WHIPLASH??β
Gabriel reaches up and brushes your hair. βDid he touch your hair???β
You just laugh, shrugging them off as you walk to the car. Because even though Pierre was perfect on paperβ He wasnβt Max. And maybe the rookies havenβt figured it out yet.
β
You were promised a casual night.
βLow pressure,β Gabriel said.
βLight-hearted,β Jack promised.
βJust Alex,β Franco winked. βWhatβs the worst that could happen?β
Famous last words.Β Because ten minutes into sitting across from Alex Albon at a cozy Thai restaurant β one he picked himself β you clock all six rookies sitting in a booth across the room in matching black hoodies like theyβre in a rogue choir.
Alex leans in, smiling wide as he watches you clock them. βSo. Weβre ignoring the Secret Service detail?β
βApparently,β you deadpan. βTheir idea of βstealthβ is coordinated outfits and Jack holding a menu upside down.β
Alex chuckles, offering you a piece of spring roll with his chopsticks. βIβll admit, I kind of love the chaos. Makes me feel like Iβm in a sitcom.β
You grin, accepting it. βIs this their idea of soft-launching us?β
βPlease,β Alex says, mock offended. βIf I was soft-launching you, itβd be on a boat, golden hour lighting, maybe a quirky caption.β
You laugh out loud. Truth be told, this is the most normal of the βdatesβ so far. Alex is sweet, calm, and effortlessly funny. He talks to you like youβve known each other for years. No pressure, no forced charm. Just vibing over pad see ew and Thai iced teas. Still, somethingβsβ¦ off. Not with him, exactly. Justβ¦ something.
β
duckling commentaryβ¦
Ollie whispers lowly. βWhy is she laughing that hard? What did he say? I need a transcript.β
Isack squints. βShe looks relaxed. TOO relaxed.β
Kimi shrugs. βHeβs got soft energy. Iβm not threatened.β
Franco sighs. βBut what if she likes soft energy.β
Gabriel with a mouth full. βI like Alex. Heβs soft. Like tofu.β
Jack moves the menu from his face. βI will literally flip this table if he touches her hand.β
β
back to you and mr. albonβ¦
βYou know,β Alex says, mid-bite, βI told them this was ridiculous. I said, βSheβs not looking for someone. Sheβs got that look in her eye like she already found someone and hasnβt told them yet.ββ
You go still.
He looks up at you. βSorryβwas that too much?β
You stare at him for a second.
And then: βNo. That wasβ¦ very on point.β
Alex smiles, a little softer now. βItβs not me, is it?β
You shake your head slowly. βNo.β
He sits back, letting out a small breath. βDidnβt think so. Just wanted to be sure before I told Isack to stop plotting date number four.β
You laugh. Like full body laugh.
βGod, theyβre so intense.β
βTheyβre obsessed with you,β Alex says easily. βI get it. Youβre kind of their mum. But also their queen. Their general. Theirββ
βDuck wrangler.β
βExactly.β
You sip your drink. βYouβre handling this well.β
βI like being a decoy,β Alex shrugs. βGives me a front row seat to the Max Verstappen Situation.β
You choke. βThe what?β
He smirks. βOh, come on. You donβt think we all saw him volunteer for the draft room? He showed up like heβd already won.β
You press your lips together. βItβsβ¦ complicated.β
βIs it?β Alex grins. βBecause I think the only people who havenβt figured it out are the rookies. And honestly? Iβm not telling them. Watching this slow unraveling is the best thing to happen to the paddock since Pierre got stuck in that bathroom in Baku.β
β
You and Alex step out of the restaurant into the night air, the six rookies immediately materializing from inside.
Isack approaches quickly. βRate the date. Out of 10. Be honest.β
Ollie checks you over, again. βDid he hold you?β
Kimi crosses his arms. βI brought pepper spray in case things got weird.β
Gabriel sighs dramatically. βAlex, are you in love with her?β
Jack stares at you. βWas it mid?? Be real.β
Franco stares down Alex. βYou better not hurt her or Iβll flatten you on the sidewalk.β
Alex just throws his hands up. βGuys. Iβm literally the safe option. You picked me for vibe control.β
β
The place is quiet. Max picked a rooftop bar just outside the city β warm lights, open air, panoramic views, and most importantlyβno cameras. Well. Except the ones hidden behind a concrete planter across the deck. You glance toward it and spot the very obvious outline of Ollieβs curly hair. You donβt even say anything. Max sees it too. He smirks.
βThey really donβt know how to blend in, huh?β
βNope.β
βI think he is wearing the fake mustache again.β
βI give them points for commitment.β
You clink your glasses together β you with a ginger beer, Max with something dark and still half-ignored β and settle into the kind of silence that feels earned, not awkward. The breeze lifts your hair slightly. His eyes follow the movement, just for a second.
βYouβve been humoring them,β he says after a while.
You glance at him. βYouβve been letting them spiral.β
He grins. βI donβt intervene in things I already won.β
Your heart does a thing. You sip your drink to cover it.
β
meanwhile at the rookie watchtowerβ¦
Jack smiles, looking satisfied. βOkay, weβre officially in the final boss round.β
Isack eyes the both of you. βDo we think heβs actually playing the game or justβ¦ winning by default?β
Gabriel shrugs. βHeβs not even trying to flirt and itβs working. I hate it here.β
Ollie squints at Max. βHeβs got that smug βI already kissed herβ lookββ
Franco shrieks. βWait. Has he???β
Kimi eyes all of the boys. βDo we interfere if tongues happen.β
All of them erupt. βYES.β
β
back with you and maxieβ¦
Back at the table, Max leans forward slightly, eyes on you like heβs choosing every word carefully.
βIβm glad you let them do this.β
βYeah?β
βGave me a front-row seat to your smile. And their chaos. Win-win.β
You raise an eyebrow. βSo whatβs your plan? You know theyβre watching.β
He shrugs. βNot here to impress them.β
βOh?β
Max sets his drink down.
βIβm here to kiss you in front of them and end this game.β
You go still. Heart? Racing.
βYouβre serious.β
He stands. Offers his hand. You take it. And then he pulls you in gently, tilting your chin up just enough, and kisses you like itβs not even a question anymore. Like it never was. Warm. Certain. Slow. Soft. And behind youβ
βOH MY GOD.β
βTHATβS ILLEGAL.β
βTHATβS AGAINST THE RULES.β
You donβt even break the kiss until Max pulls back with a laugh, turning just slightly toward the human pile of rookies currently losing their minds behind a planter.
His arm stays looped around your waist.
βThatβs against the rules!β Ollie yells again, hands flailing.
Isack looks like he is going to faint. βI NEED TO SIT DOWN.β
Gabriel clutching his chest. βI think I just blacked out.β
Kimi smirked. βI knew it. I KNEW IT.β
Ollie crumbles quickly. βThey made us schedule a date with Alex when she was already WITH HIMββ
You turn toward Max, cheeks warm, heart light, still half-shocked and entirely melted.
βThat wasβ¦ dramatic.β
βWorth it.β
βYou really planned to one-up the rookies?β
He grins. βNo. I planned to end the game before they tried to match you with Lando.β
You laugh and kiss him again β brief, bright, completely yours. Alongside the two of you, six ducklings begin planning a joint wedding speech.
β
maxverstappen1
liked by gabrielbortoleto_, olliebearman, kimi.antonelli and 5,505,023 others.
maxverstappen1 : grid mom and dad making it official. love you, schatβ€οΈ
tagged : yourusername
β
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gabrielbortoleto_ : i feel like i found out santa isnβt real but also found out my parents are canceling the divorce on the same day.
liked by yourusername and maxverstappen1
β³ yourusername : idek what that means but okay my little ducky.
β³ gabrielbortoleto_ : im betrayed but overjoyed
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francolapinto : mama y papa
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olliebearman : we scheduled dates. we made color-coded spreadsheets. we googled how to flirt respectfully. AND YOU WERE ALREADY KISSING.
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β³ isackhadjar : i was ready to flatten pierre with my car for this woman. AND THIS IS HOW YOU TREAT ME???
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β³ jackdoohan : we booked a RESTAURANT. i WORE A COLLARED SHIRT. i told a waiter βitβs her big day.β for WHAT.
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β³ gabrielbortoleto_ : i was her emotional support water bottle holder. do you know how much responsibility that is???
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β³ kimi.antonelli : i knew. i always knew. but i let the others spiral because it was funny.
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β³ olliebearman : donβt even talk. i wrote her a DATING PROFILE. with bullet points.
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β³ isackhadjar : they KISSED ON THE DATE I WAS HIDING BEHIND A PLANT FOR. i need financial compensation.
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β³ olliebearman : HEY. i wore that itchy ass mustache four dates in a ROW.
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β³ yourusername : i would trust you all with my life. just not my love life β€οΈ
β
bonus scene!
The checkered flag waves. You donβt even hear the roar of the crowd at first β not over the static-crackling voice of your race engineer, screaming so loud heβs probably broken something in the garage.
βP1! YN, thatβs P1 β you did it! YOU BLOODY DID IT!β
Youβre not breathing. Your hands are shaking around the wheel, your visor fogged slightly with heat and adrenaline. You let out a noise β somewhere between a yell and a laugh and a sob β and punch the air so hard you mightβve dislocated something. And then another voice cuts in. Kimi. Completely unprofessional. Totally euphoric.Β βGRID MOM WINS. THE GRID MOM WON!!!β
You let out a laugh, heart racing, vision blurring. Your car rolls over the finish line and onto the cooldown lap, your fingers white-knuckled around the wheel.
By the time youβre climbing out of the car, the world is already screaming. Fans at the fence chant your name. The Mercedes crew is piling over the pit wall like lunatics.
You tear your helmet off and throw your arms in the air. Youβve barely taken a full breath when youβre tackled from the side β Kimi, jumping on you like a golden retriever with too much kinetic energy.
βIβM SO PROUD OF YOU,β he yells, muffled by your shoulder.
βYou got your first podium!β you laugh, hugging him just as tightly.
βAnd YOU WON. So, respectfully β I will get in line, this is your moment.β
He lets you go with one last enthusiastic pat on the back, and thatβs when you see him.
Max. Standing a few paces away, helmet off, hair messy, eyes only on you.
The way he looks at you? Like you painted the sky.
He doesnβt rush you. Just walks forward with that calm, smug patience he always has β but when you meet him halfway, wrapping your arms around his neck and laughing into his shoulder, he lifts you slightly off the ground without hesitation.
βYouβre unbelievable,β he says softly into your hair.
You pull back just enough to see his face. βStill think you let me win?β
He grins. βOnly because youβre hot.β
The champagne sprays. The flashbulbs explode. The crowd is still roaring when Max steps off his podium block, strides across to you β and kisses you. It's not subtle. It's not quiet. It's a hard launch in high definition. He pulls back only slightly, curls his arm around your waist. Your eyes go wide, but you're already smiling. Laughing, even. You press your forehead to his and exhale one word through your grin.
βDramatic.β
βCorrect.β
But before either of you can bask in it for too longβ CHAOS.
Suddenly, thereβs yelling. Sprinting. A commotion behind the barriers. And thenβ A ROOKIE STAMPEDE.
Ollie is first. He launches himself up the side of the podium steps like itβs the final stage of Ninja Warrior. Franco and Gabriel follow, scaling like climbers on caffeine.
Jack does a running leap. Isack vaults the barrier with no regard for ankle safety. And Kimi, of course, simply walks up β nods at the FIA official like this is normal, and joins the crowd. They pile onto the podium. No one stops them. Security gives up. Fans are shrieking.
Franco hugs your waist and yells, βMY MOM WON!!β
Jack flings an arm around Max and shouts, βDAD HARD LAUNCHED! HISTORY HAS BEEN MADE!β
Ollie collapses onto the floor of the podium and moans, βI feel so emotionally unsafe right now, but Iβm also so proud.β
Gabriel is taking selfies mid-hug.Isack is clinging to your arm like itβs the last flotation device on the Titanic.
Kimi sighed happily. βIt was time. The people needed to know.β
And in the middle of it all, Max just throws an arm around your shoulders and says with a completely straight face. βThese are our children now.β
β
Later that night, Max throws his phone on the hotel bed and flops down beside you, still smiling.
βI think we broke the Internet,β you murmur.
βI think we adopted six grown men.β
You laugh. βWorth it.β
He turns his head, grinning. βThey love you, you know.β
βI know.β
You pause. βThey love us.β
He kisses you again β soft this time, slow β and the world outside fades. For now, itβs just the two of you. And the six rookies already planning family brunch in the group chat.
WARNINGS:Β Alcohol consumption, just pure angst tbh.
SUMMARY: After race weekends, Charles Leclerc finds solace in the dim corner of a bar in Monaco, where a quiet pianist plays songs that sound like heartbreak and home all at once. Neither shares their name; neither needs to. When he disappears without goodbye, she only learns who he truly was through the media following his disappearance from the bar β and through the silence he leaves behind. Months later, her first original composition makes its way into the world, and in an interview after a Grand Prix, he reminds her he'll always be her biggest fan.
NOT PROOF READ - WORDS -Β 2.4k
π............ππ¨..
The streets of Monaco after dark gave off a vibe like no other - one you had only dreamt off before packing your bags one day and heading here. You werenβt fully stupid as many called you, Monaco of all places - a place known for its high income residents, and luxury lifestyle. You had connections, a distant family that owned a remote but popular jazz bar with the locals, it had built a name for itself over the years and after a few messages and catch ups you had secured a job as their pianist for the evenings. Youβd sit down and play your usual pieces and by 2 youβd be walking down the narrow streets back to your apartment you were yet to call home, because to you home was your music and your piano. You had learned not to seek comfort in anything else, only your hands as they switched between chords in that dimly lit bar full of lost souls and wandering residents, all seeking answers in your melancholy melodies.
To you music was your conversation, you refuge from the world, and your heartbeat.
He had entered quietly one evening like most people in need of a drink or two with some soothing music as their background noise. The man was tall yet walked hunched over slightly as though he was carrying around copious amounts of stress and worries that were weighing him down. He went unnoticed, most likely due to the cap covering his face, leaving it up to your imagination, as itβs clear he himself doesnβt want to be noticed either. He sank himself into a corner booth near the back, letting all his stress be lifted off his shoulders for the meantime as he nursed a drink in his hands, taking a sip here and there.
You sense the man's gaze on your hands as they effortlessly glide from the keys in soothing manner. He was clearly in a trance as his ears followed along with the dark yet calm melody, his reaction alone caught through the corner of your eye was enough to keep you efforts high, hoping to bring the man at least some comfort away from the issues you could see he was quietly hiding.
-
And yes, Charles did in fact have issues and worries piling up in his mind, he was a driver for Ferrari so what on Earth could be stopping him from feeling positive. Well he was having a rough season, in fact probably the worst on his record so far. The car had been having issues since the Japanese Grand Prix at the start of the season, and ever since he was struggling to even keep the car on track, let alone getting it on the podium. Sure, he could blame it on the car fully, but instead he decided to let it chip at his own confidence and abilities. He believed he was the issue, in fact the main problem.Β
So for escapism he had found himself sitting in the remote bar on a quiet street in his hometown.Β
-
As he gets up to leave near closing time, everyone notices his presence now, but most of all you notice him, and he notices you in the crowd of people bustling around getting ready to leave soon themselves. Yet this man seems almost untouchable, like a dream glimpsed through fog. Just his presence alone tonight left your music sounding warmer, softer, and at times slower, as if the last note was left lingering instead of ending suddenly. He doesnβt know your name, and you donβt know his, but you know heβll be back and youβll be waiting.
-
Weeks pass by and this mysterious man finds himself stumbling on over to the bar as much as he possibly can considering his busy schedule. And as he does he drifts closer towards you, moving up towards your piano slowly as the visits become more frequent. You noticed he never ordered the same drink twice in a night unless it was a whiskey on the rocks, and always made sure to tip quite a large amount as he left into the empty streets. The man would also appear to make small gestures towards you, such as a subtle nod when a melody of yours landed right or a sip of his drink in sync with a minor chord once in a while.
You could feel all of it before you could understand it properly, he felt in tune with the rhythm at all times, a rhythm that was no longer just yours, but a silent duet that formed in the crown of a room full of words that were never spoken. It felt perfect.
-
It was a late night on a Monday, Charles had just gotten back from Hungary, and was certainly not in the mood to head back to his desolate, quiet apartment after another disappointment on track. The streetlights of Monaco glimmering onto the streets as he makes his way up a steep hill up to the street he had now become familiar with. Charles had his jacket swung over his shoulder as his body felt like collapsing, his car was shit and his body certainly felt like shit as well, his muscles aching horrendously but knowing by the end of the night he would be cured through the gentleness of your music.
Tonight it felt different as Charles made his way through the worn out wooden doors that felt authentic to its past, the air almost as heavy as his body felt. He looked around and saw the bar emptier than usual, he tried to pay no attention to it as the sound of piano filled his ears. This time after ordering his first round of drinks he sat the closest he ever had, yet far enough not to startle you. It wasnβt just the bar air that felt different, it was your tone in your music, it was just you today, no extra instruments such as the usual trumpet or double bass. Tonight's performance felt more raw and Charles didnβt want to miss a moment of it.
The moonlight had painted the walls gold by the time you were playing your last piece, a raw emotional one you had composed in your own time while trapped in your apartment a few years back. Its melody spoke louder than anyone ever could, he watched as you got lost in the melody, forgetting about your surroundings even for these few minutes, and Charles himself was there alongside you, feeling your emotions in waves of admiration.
Before either of you knew it you were packing away your sheet music and lazily making your way to the bar to close up. Charles was left star struck, afraid to move and call it an end for tonight, the clock struck 2 outside, he knew if he didnβt make a move now heβd live to regret it.
You brushed past your piano last time taking a deep breath as you held onto it, knowing that you had a long walk back to your βhomeβ. As you turned towards the exit the man who had now become a regular was standing in front of you, clearly nervous yet filled with passion. It takes you by surprise, you never talked to the locals or customers, you were here to perform, to even partially lift their spirits with music, yet if you ever did want to talk to one of them it would've been the mysterious man in front of you, cap still covering most of his face.
βHello, uh- sorry this is very sudden but that last piece was beautiful. I mean, just everything about it was perfect.β
You stand there for a moment soaking in this sudden compliment, it had been so long since someone had truly listened to your work especially in the bar and said anything about it. You try to avoid his gaze looking down at your feet as you muster up a response.
βWell, thank you it means a lot knowing some people still appreciate live music like that.β
The silence of the empty bar was sharp enough to cut through the rising tension. You both wanted to speak but nobody was ready to be the one to talk. Until Charles had enough and got to what he had been dying to say ever since he first stepped into the bar.
βYβknow. You play like youβve lost something?β
You canβt help but somewhat be taken aback at first, feeling as if heβd cracked the code to the crux of your passion for music, and Charles himself could see that, a part of him dared to speak once again but instead stayed patient waiting for your answer. You carefully whisper out your reply.
βAnd what about you.?β
βI drive.. Like I'm trying to find it.β
The pause that followed felt longer than any track time Charles had ever set, the street lights twinkle indifferently and infinitely as they exit out of the warm bar simultaneously. As they get ready to part ways he removes his cap for the first time in her presence, you see him fully, and for the first time under a streetlamp he sees you fully, too.
As the next few weeks go by he makes another appearance here and there, however Charles know itβs only a matter of time before this ends, the next Grand Prix is in a weeks time and heβs set to fly out today. His last visit in a while feels melancholy as how your music had felt, yet recently it had becomeΒ a more uplifting tempo, and a lot more bright. But it wasnβt the same, just as he would never be the same unknown man he was before that night. You had still seemed to not know who he was, to you he was just another lost soul seeking comfort and that's what he wanted until one day he spotted a fan coming his way as Chalres was leading you home after a night of music.
After a few detours he had walked you to your apartment complex, this was it, in more ways than one and he dreaded it.
βWell this is my stop then, thanks for walking me home it gets kind of lonely here and there.β
βNo problem, itβs the least I can do after staring at you all night as you play.β
You chuckle at his reply and lightly punch his shoulder.
βItβs my honour, knowing that you stick around till closing hour for the music really means the world, it's my pleasure.β
A silence similar to the first time they talked falls under them, the stars glimmering above as they both look up to admire them.
βSo.. Is it always going to be bar gigs for you, or is there a bigger dream in mind?β
You sigh and blush at his question.
βWell, I donβt know it always felt embarrassing, I always wanted to get my music out there somehow. Itβs just hard at the moment as well. The bar takes up a lot of my time, but maybe one day.β
βI think youβll get there soon, and when you do I hope Iβll be the first to know.β
βAnything for my biggest fan of course.β
The two of you chuckle as a warmth finds its way soaring through Charles, for once it wasnβt someone calling them a fan of him, but him being called a fan of someone else. It felt relieving, knowing that even in Monaco some people weren't aware of his life on track. Heβd miss these few weeks of pure blindness to his career, but everything lead back to his racing eventually, he could never escape it no matter how much he wanted to. And in that moment with no thought behind it just pure instincts and emotion, his eyes met yours full of admiration and pent up emotions, his gaze shifted towards you lips as yours did to his, and before either of you knew it your lips had met, not full of hunger but full of pure love, and emotions that couldnβt be explained in any other way.Β
After a moment neither of you wanted to end your lips parted as you shared a long look, one that left an imprint on one another and would never be forgotten. The man you had not even known the name of had made you feel so many emotions you could never explain properly.
βIβll always be there to listen to your music, it's beautiful, everything about you is mon amore. Iβll be here no matter where I sit listening to it, in the back or the front.β
βThank you, truly, thank you.β
And after that the night had come to an end, as you were about to enter the building you turned back to look at him leave, yet as you did he was standing staring back at you. To Charles he knew this was it but you were left with wondering what was to come.Β
By the morning you don't remember the last thing he said to you that night, only the way the air seemed to hum after he left, a note held too long before fading into silence. For weeks, you kept glancing toward the door between songs, half-expecting his familiar shadow to appear, half-hoping it wouldnβt hurt when it didnβt.
The world revealed who he was in headlines and recent podium photos in the local newspaper, Charles Leclerc, a driver for Ferrari in F1. but to you, he was still the man in the corner who listened like the music meant something. Months later, when your first composition quietly slipped into the world, you thought of him only once in a while, until a post-race interview started playing in the background of the bar. His voice, calm and certain, carried through the static: βThereβs this piece I canβt stop listening toβ¦ it reminds me of home.β Β Your piece, your composition inspired by him. And in that moment all that you could do was smile because of what the two of you had in that brief time, instead of letting your tears fall right there and then you placed your hands back on the piano and began to play your song inspired by the man who used to sit and listen.
Not the Kind of Girl β Angst / FIA!Reader / REQUEST / βYouβre just not the kind of person the world expects me to be with.β
Lewis Hamilton
Lando Norris
Oscar Piastri
Max Verstappen
Sore Loser - Smut / Driver Fem!Reader / "They're either gonna kill one another or fuck one another"
Yuki Tsunoda
Liam Lawson
Isaac Hadjar
George Russell
Kimi Antonelli
Alex Albon
Carlos Sainz
Lance Stroll
Fernando Alonso
Nico Hulkenberg
Esteban Ocon
Ollie Bearman
Pierre Gasly
Franco Colapinto
Retired Drivers
π¬ Headcanons & Blurbs
π οΈ Ongoing Series
π Beneath The Lions Gaze
Summary: enemies to lovers, slow-burn, two drivers with opposite driving styles, and lifestyles are now put on the same team after a moment back in their karting days sees them drift apart. Sienna "White Sheep" Blanc is weary of Max "Lion" Verstappen, but how far can he push her till her image cracks.
Pairing: Max Verstappen x fem! driver oc
Status: Ongoing
π Navigation
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π·οΈ Taglist / Updates
I needed some serious angst! It can be with either Charles, Lando, or Oscar (writers pick :) )
Maybe something where the reader is really nerdy and works for the FIA as some sort of project manager (for example) and the driver starts to get feelings for them but the drivers friends/manager says that they need to find another girl cause the reader doesn't fit the 'WAG image'.
"You're just not the kind of person the world expects me to be with, I'm sorry."
NOT THAT KIND OF GIRL
requested imagine (REQUESTS OPEN!!)
GENRE: Angst
PAIRING: Charles Leclerc x fem! reader
WARNINGS: Heartbreak, public pressure, emotional tension, alcohol.
NOT PROOF READ - WORDS - 3.7K
SUMMARY: She has worked for her success, earning her job as an FIA project manager. Her whole life consists of her work, not social events, parties, or media. But when Charles Leclerc starts showing up for briefings just to catch another glimpse of her, things get complicated. Between coffees, friendly outings, late-night calls, and the weight of the public and Charles' image he has to choose between what feels real and what the world expects.
π............ππ¨..
From a young age you knew what you wanted to be, you had the brains, knowledge, patience, alongside a dying love for motorsports. During your youth you took every STEM subject you could and worked yourself to the bone, especially in college when your friends would try to get you away from your studies, youβd just tell them it wasnβt your thing. Your thing was motorsports engineering and the inner working of it.
Your first success came through an opportunity at Mercedes in its Research and Development division after you had shown your expertise in numbers and impressive spreadsheets that took you ages to create. Through these four years you had learnt that social activities such as media appearances were far from your favourite part of the job, in fact you actively made sure to avoid it as much as possible.
Eventually you had a job offer show up from the FIA after a glowing recommendation had come in from one of the Mercedes senior engineers, and as well as many people in your situation would you accept it. After a grueling amount of interviews and meeting the job was yours, you had finally made it after all these years of studying they were now showing just how far it got you. You were now an FIA project manager.
Throughout the journey of this new job you travelled race to race, organising safety tech implementations across all teams, overseeing data integration systems, and always making your way around tablet in hand busy at work, always being the quiet one in the room - you had shown everyone you earned your place, not through charm, or connections, but through pure skill and dedication.
-
It was the week of the Monaco Grand Prix, one of the fan favourites and also your one favourite tracks, not just from that alone but mixed with the vibes and cheers it brought along with it. You had woken up bright and early for a briefing to discuss the upcoming race.
Now even as someone working in F1 and for the FIA you had never particularly gotten close with any of the drivers, at most had gotten to know the Mercedes ones back in the day yet even then only briefly. You weren't here to make friends with the drivers, you wanted to do your job to help improve their driving and drivers as much as possible. And today was no different going into the debrief, even when you sat opposite the very talented Ferrari driver from Monaco, Charles it was no different to your usual days at work, well til it wasnβt.
During the meeting you had noticed a few errors in his data report made by his team, for a moment you hesitated to say anything looking around to see if anyone else had caught this blunder, yet nobody did leaving you to step out of your comfort zone and speak.
βSorry but I couldnβt help but - uh notice that some of the data doesnβt seem to match up with how it should be..β
You felt your voice echo through the room, a few pens clicking as you spoke out, in return you gave them the correct reading and tried to hide your growing flushed face until it had cooled down. But unaware of your surroundings a certain driver had drawn his attention to you, Charles had unknowingly himself spent a long moment fixated on you from your brief comment. He had seen you around before, but never paid much attention to it, even if he was to look for you anywhere it was impossible you were nowhere to be found online, which obviously he hadnβt tried to find himself, maybe. He felt infringed by your quiet personality that contradicted the usual people he had met in the field, you felt different.
-
As the season went on slowly Charles had started to see more and more of you, normally at meetings and pre-race discussions, and as time grew on you had both become used to one anotherβs presence. The Ferrari man had started to linger around near her office after meetings, giving her a thank you for her time every meeting, and hoping that they were once again sat across from one another during these discussions before the man had to hop in his car.
You tried your best to think nothing of it and keep it professional, yet he could sense your warmth in your eyes, the glistening of them at every joke he had made, yet little did she know he had only made them in hopes to she her smile, even for a moment cause to him it was a sign of good luck before a race. And well til this day it has been one hundred percent proven correct.
Months flew by, as the season came to an end, Charles had a rough start of the season but had managed to save it after the summer break, finishing 3rd in the Drivers Championship. A part of him believed it was due to your more frequent appearances before the races, and in the Paddock in general. After the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix Charles had finally gained enough confidence to ask you to join him in the celebrations afterwards. Sure, you and him had exchanged phone numbers before, the Ferrari man chalking it up to βwork related activitiesβ, however he had spent his time texting you, sending you funny posts, and just checking up on you. You found it sweet, and more than once finding yourself blushing and smiling seeing his name pop up in your notifications.
That night he had approached you, palms sweaty, and ready to make a fool out of himself. He had seen you around the Mercedes building, chatting with George before waving him a goodbye and getting ready to leave and enjoy the season break ahead, well as much as you could cause while the drivers had their time off you still had a ton of unfinished work to catch up on during the off season. He manages to catch your attention by lightly touching your shoulder, yet firm enough to acknowledge it.
βOh hey Charles, you did good today!β
βHey, yeah uh thanks tried my best even tho the grip wasnβt the best near the last few laps, but did better than I thoughtβ
You nod along to his words, sensing he wanted to ask something yet you werenβt sure what it was.
βWell uh on that note, there's actually a little get together happening after the media and all, and well as youβve been quite some help this season would you maybe want to tag along, it wonβt be much, just small.β
You hesitated for the moment, just the idea of a loud crowded atmosphere was enough to send shivers down your spine, parties were never your thing but after seeing Charlesβs look in his eyes, that silent desperation to have you in his company without thinking too much about it you agreed. And well the night went mostly how you expected it, a ton of people, drinks, and music, you hated it. While the others partied and enjoyed it all you could do is sit in a corner and sip on your drink, you felt alone. You were getting ready to leave, grabbing your bag and all until he appeared, hand once again on your shoulder.
βHey, sorry traffic took a while, are you alright?β
βUh- sorry itβs just this isnβt really my thing, Iβm sorry I mean I hope you have fun though, Congrats on today.β
But as you turned around, bag and phone in hand, he followed you, not saying a word until you had made it outside.
βItβs not something I was looking forward to anyways, letβs get out of here? I know a nice quiet place around here.β
And the moment you agree, you canβt explain why, but you do. Maybe itβs because you enjoy his company, or perhaps it was the fact you didnβt feel too safe alone in a city you didnβt know your way around. You sigh and agree.
You were glad you accepted his offer, that night ended better than any other post race celebration ever could. He had taken you to a quiet niche jazz bar in a secluded part of Abu Dhabi. Charles and you had spent the night talking about your childhoods, dreams, and aspirations, he was a great listener making sure to take mental notes as you explained all the efforts you went through to get to where you were. He had made it a night to remember, his touch lingering on your forearm as the two of you headed back to your designated hotels grabbing a taxi each.
βWell then Charles, thank you for tonight, I really enjoyed it, I mean it. Iβll see you after the break, enjoy it, you deserve it.β
βThank you for your time, I mean it was nice to get to know you away from the debriefs and meetings, so thank you. See you soon.β
And ever since that night you had started counting down the days til the start of the season, a part of you missed his presence, and unbeknownst to you Charles was missing yours, spending his break relaxing, travelling, and looking forward to the meeting with the FIA that would come around soon enough. Little did he know his heart was growing fond of you, and the aching in his heart since that night was due to you.
-
The start of the season had excited the both of you, even more passionate about your jobs than you normally would, of course the two of you would text over the break, even sometimes ending up on call with one another. But nothing could replace the in person talks, and contact. When the two of you finally met again he had brought you a coffee, your favourite that you had mentioned at the bar. And well bringing you this coffee became a usual activity before every meeting you two shared, it warmed your heart, and his just by seeing your warm smile every morning.Β
At a certain point you two had a few moments alone, normally filled with the usual chatter, you had made jokes about Charles bribing the FIA officials to allow him to spend more one-on-one time with you, always bringing out a chuckle from him. As Monaco once again rolled around, the two of you had spent the time in one another's company, him showing off all that Monaco had to offer, it was a surreal moment yet all Charles could focus on was your beauty, you were all he ever wanted, someone beautiful and yet so smart, your brains alone made you the most stunning person ever yet he never dared to utter those words aloud especially with certain new rumours spreading around.
Photos of the pair had been taken around Monaco, restaurants, bars, and on casual walks close to one another. Charlesβs team did a deep dive into you, finding no trace of you online except for your Linkedin. It was clear she was someone who hated the spotlight, a woman who kept to herself, trying to avoid PR events as much as possible, and that's when the rumours started.
It had been circulating around on social media that the Ferrari PR advisor and management were looking to expand Charlesβs racing career, they wanted him to have a love life outside of racing, something to help build his image as more than a great driver, but a great lover. Eventually these rumours are proven to be facts once Charles himself is pulled aside and is told about this, he wants to mention you and his feelings yet they shut down before he even has the chance to speak your name.
βSheβs not the kind of person people expect you to date, Charles. You have a brand to uphold, sorry.β
And those words right there stuck more than anything else he had ever heard.
You werenβt in loop with this information and rumours, until Charles himself brought it up in the Paddock after the British Grand Prix, you were excited to invite him to a local restaurant you had been dying to take him to, well until he himself muttered out the words he was told. You werenβt sure what to do or say, you stood there for a while trying to compose your feelings properly. All you can dare say is a simple βokayβ and a nod before turning around and never looking back, even though Charles wanted to meet your gaze one last time, he never found it. Why couldnβt it be her.
After that moment she had requested to change teams for the meantime, stating that her presence was affecting the performance of a driver, and eventually with enough strings pulled she had a few changes in her schedule. And Charles had to figure this out the hard way, he was looking forward to at least watching her from across the table, explaining her graphs and analysisβ, yet that time never came, in her spot sat another project manager, not the usual quiet yet secretly bubbly you he had grown used to. And this loss in your presence had a small effect on his races, after Silverstone he had gotten used to finishing P6 and P8 instead of the usual podium, even in a car with many fixes that needed to happen, somehow you helped him defy that, until now. The Ferrari team had chalked it up to personal issues, which it was but it was all due to their own words.
Charles had tried to reach out to you, but nothing, had you changed your number? He tried to catch you after the races, and post-race dinners to try apologise for his words, they werenβt his but stung just as much nonetheless. And when he did, the spark was there, your unresolved feeling sat heavy in the air but not a word was uttered about them, you both were too scared to make your feeling a reality in these current circumstances.
The team notices this, and now are more eager than ever to get him out in the dating scene, rumours from media outlets speculate that Ferrari are more persistent than ever to have Charles date a model or influencer to boost his image more, and as they do these women with platforms, the looks, and the attention begin to line themselves up waiting for the opportunity to date him, but he dreads it, he doesnβt want them, he wants her, but sheβs not his, not in the public and never will be.
Charles knows what he wants, but he canβt have it, he canβt risk your career and his for these feelings, heβs torn between the world that expects perfection and you, the girl who makes him feel real.
-
On an exceptionally bad race finish Charles finds himself alone outside the garage, everyone had already packed up and he himself had said he would, but he couldnβt find it in him to leave, he felt the lowest he had in a long while, Charles was ready to admit he felt lost, actually no, he was lost.
Well that was until he caught a glimpse of you, the sound of your quick pace walking in his direction, for the first time that felt like decades Charles felt a sense of comfort just by seeing you, it had been too long since he saw you this close, he missed it and so did you. The air between them felt silent by the time you had approached him, standing in front of his sulked body resting on a pair of fucked up tires at the garage entrance. Your eyes met each other's as he looked up at you, he hated to admit just how much he had missed your eyes. Yet that gleam was nowhere to be found, in its place was a longing look of sadness, one he himself had developed.
βHey Charles.β
βHey.β
And after that no words were spoken for a moment, the two of you just looking at one another, searching for answers none of you had. You wanted to tell him he tried his best today considering the car had severe issues on track since qualifying but you didnβt want to rub salt in an already open wound.Β
βIβm sorry about today, it was a shame, but it was the car, don't beat yourself up over it.β
In response he let out a quiet hum as his glaze fell down to the floor, he couldnβt stand feeling so vulnerable around him, knowing that as much as he wanted to, he couldnβt let you get any closer or heβd never be able to turn back.Β He sighed as his eyes never made their way back to yours, your eyes felt too raw, too real, too caring.
βYβknow, back when we still had those debriefs together, Iβd always try to look you in the eyes, I thought it gave me good luck, I mean Iβd get podiums and finish top 5 all the time. And now I don't know, I fee like Iβve been cursed to fail. And a part of it believes itβs because of that.β
Your heart melted right there and then, you wanted to hold his head in your hands, look him in the eyes and tell him youβd always be there for him, wipe away this miserable look in your eyes. You wanted to be right for him, you wanted to be that perfect model online posing in the perfect ways, bare minimum knowledge when it came to compounds of the car and racing itself, cause it didnβt matter as long as I had the presence to be enough for the team, you wanted to be the one they panned the camera towards during the races, the one to be called Charles Leclercβs partner, but you were never destined for that life. This is what you wanted, this was your field, you were never the one he would end up with no matter what.
βYou know, even though I canβt be there for you Charles, Iβll always care for you. Even if I tried to stop, I wouldn't be able to. I hate just how much you continue to mean to me even after everything. Iβm sorry.β
And that was the moment his eyes met yours once again, his eyes spoke words he knew he could never speak, in that moment all you could do was look back and reminisce on the short period of time you two had spent in one another company, if only circumstances were different, maybe youβd be enough. All he could muster out were the words that stung him the most, the words that changed everything.
βTo the world you're just not the kind of person they expect me to be with, I wish you were. Iβm sorry.β
βI know Charles, I know.β
-
After a brutal Red Bull domination last season, it was now a new season, a season with a lot of work to do, you had walked away from the last season promising to now only focus on your career, you were done with distraction, if you were able to walk away from Charles, you were ready for anything.Β
He had a rough time in the rest of last season, usually finding himself in bars and clubs after the races, trying to distract himself from the fact you lived rent-free in his memories, everything reminded him of you, it stung worse than the alcohol hitting the back of his throat. However on one occasion after the US Grand Prix he had run into a woman, it wasnβt you but God how he wished it was, it was a model and influencer, someone with a huge passion for art. She was funny, kind, and of course extremely pretty, but on top of all that it was someone that matched what his image lacked, a woman who could keep up with the WAG lifestyle, she fit it perfectly.
And by the time the new season came around the corner photos came out between Charles and this new woman, Alexandra. The media called them perfect for one another, they seemed to enjoy one another's company, almost in the same way he had enjoyed yours. Once the news had come around to you, you couldnβt be upset, I mean you yourself let the chance of you two die long before any words were ever exchanged, he deserved more, someone to help his career, and you were anything but that.
You couldnβt hate her, any other woman would be lucky to have him be hers, and Alexandra was the lucky one, you were happy enough knowing Charles could finally be content in his feelings, leaving you behind was best after all but left you with aΒ sour taste in your mouth, you felt some envy rise the more you knew, but you guessed it just helped you focus more on your job thanΒ anything else. He was happy so you were happy in return.
But unbeknownst to you Charles hadnβt forgotten about you, he unintentionally had watched you from afar in the Paddock, noticing your hard work paying off slowly, you had become one of if not the hardest working project manager in the current moment. Yet through it all you never let go of your true self, you were still the same introverted, skillful, stunning woman you had been when Charles met you two seasons ago. And by the time he himself had realised what he lost it was too late.He had traded away something genuine for something that looked perfect. He loved Alexandra of course, but sometimes all that plagues his mind was the memories of you, but all he could do is watch from afar as you became all you wanted to be.Β
Maybe if the world changed its expectations, everything would be different. But it never would be, this was it, this was the only chance they had, and it was gone due to a world too cruel to understand.
pairing - Max Verstappen x Fem!reader
Summary - Max is a sore loser when you win the Monaco Grand Prix and cause him to miss out on even getting on the podium. While on a night out, he finds you and when you find yourself in his apartment the tension is finally let free.
Warning - Explicit content SMUT SMUT SMUT, p in v, no protection but pull out game is class, language, marking, slight derogatory words used
Word count - 2.8k
Authors Note - First smut I've ever written so not the best!! not proofread but hope you enjoy it!!
The Monaco air felt heavy after your podium today, you had won after an intense battle of the track, even though you started off P3 with enough luck and strategy you had managed to find yourself in P1 in the last 8 laps. Even through the heat beating down at you as you fought with the tight corners of the track you kept your cool enough to secure your first win in F1 as a Red Bull driver. The team celebrated your victory, spirits high after the first few races of yours werenβt the best, yet still managed to bag a few points throughout. The press, fellow driver, and media congratulated you, yet a certain man wasnβt so keen on joining in on the celebrations. Max Vertstappen, your sworn enemy since you had joined the racing world as a young child, he had always been a step up from you. Well til today, the day you finally proved to him you were more than just a teammate and rival, you were also someone he should be scared of especially in equal machinery.
As you stood on the podium, champagne coating your suit in the sparkly liquid, taking a swig of itΒ as you stood up there alongside Charles and Piastri, with no Max in sight who had already stormed back off to the garage to avoid the celebration.You could feel the tension rising between you and your teammate even from afar.
After some mandatory press and media you make your way back to the garage, watching the team start making their ways home, few staying to chat to one another and talk about today's success, well your success. The tension between you and MaxΒ is immediate and almost tangible as you lock eyes with him. Even from across the garage, you can feel it pressing in, heavy in the air. His gaze locks onto you, sharp and unyielding, and itβs impossible not to notice the way his posture radiates both competitiveness and something more personal, more electric.
You want to go over and talk to him, assure him that he did well considering the few blunders that were made on track that were nothing to do with his performance, his exhausted, sweat fueled presence was clearly no in the mood for talking, especially remembering he had started of P2 and ended up finishing P4, all lost on the hairpin on lap 16, it was a small blunder that had cost him a podium but had gained you a win. You decide to just change and lighten your spirits with the reminder of the long night ahead of you.
You had made plans with Charles and a few other drivers to head out to one of the local clubs to celebrate, all hyped up for the upcoming night of endless drinks, music, and unforgettable moments. You wanted to be friendly and invite Max but you didnβt want to ruin your high spirits by trying to communicate with the man that looked like he wanted to put a hole in the garage wall, instead just giving him a small nod and goodbye as you left. You try to ignore the scoff he let out and deliberate eye roll he gave you and he whispered something under his breath, something you couldn't decipher from afar, but you could tell it was anything but positive
-
The night had started off as most nights after a race did, rushing back to get cleaned up, popping open a bottle of congratulatory champagne as you got ready. Your best friend Charles let you know heβd be waiting to pick you up in the next hour and to be ready by then. You slip on a silky black dress that hugged all your curves in the right places, fixing up your hair and makeup one last time before locking the door to your own Monaco apartment and heading down to the apartment complex entrance to wait for the Monegasque man to arrive and chauffeur the both of you to the club.
-
The club pulses with life, bass reverberating through the floor as lights flash in rhythm with the music. Velvet curtains and gilded accents give the space an air of exclusive luxury, while the low murmur of conversations mixes with the occasional clink of champagne glasses. The club screamed luxury as everytime you looked around you were reminded by the rich people local to Monaco, even though you yourself lived there it had always taken you by surprise just how wealthy it was in this region.
You had found a secluded corner area to sit at with Chalres as you watched the rest of the drivers turn up one by one, dressed to impress and ready to drink and celebrate with what Monaco had to offer. Vibes and overpriced cocktails and shots. By the end of the hour Lewis, Yuki, and both drivers from Williams, Mclaren, and Mercedes had shown up. Basically all the grid had come to join you and Charles to celebrate, and it felt out of this world especially after your victorious race.
As the drinks kept flowing the conversations became more unhinged, leaving you close to tears at every joke made. Charles had started going on about embarrassing stories about some of the grid back in our karting days, leaving us all in stitches and some of us in embarrassment along the way. As you down another shot of vodka, feeling the addictive burn at the back of your throat you and some of the grid had somehow managed to find yourselves dancing out of rhythm to the blaring music. Lewis eventually joined you all and challenged you to a little dance off, it was clear it was the alcohol giving you all this newfound confidence, and you sure as hell felt confident when you even dared to speak his name.
Well Lando was first to mention it, and then what followed was all on you.
βShame Max couldn't make it, he wouldβve loved this.β
You snort at his comment and roll your eyes.
βToo bad, his loss, probably off sim racing at home trying to forget I was the one that won not him. Petty bastard, but hey it's his fault for being a sore loser.βΒ
βI swear you and him have some unmatched tension, you guys are either gonna kill each other or fuck one another at this point.β
βLando that's such bullshit, the day I even touch that man is the day Iβm dead.β
And just as you say that you feel a hand come to clasp your waist, and in your daze you donβt even bother looking back until you feel his heavy breath against your neck and before you know it you hear the voice of the man you had just been shit talking.
ββNow liefje I wouldnβt go around saying that about your teammate, you know you're just acting up with this new found ego of yours.β
You freeze up. Liefje. Who the fuck was he calling liefje, the same man that earlier on looked like he was about to bury you alive for βstealingβ his win, his podium, his dignity. The same man was now here in the middle of the dancefloor, hand on your waist gripping so tight you knew it would leave a mark, acting as if you were lovers in disguise. He wasnβt doing this to be nice, he was doing this to get a rise out of you.
You turn around to basically find yourself chest to chest with your sworn rival. You wanted to think of a witty comeback, just something to shut up his drunk ass, but you couldnβt because all you could focus on was his hand andΒ the growing heat in your stomach creeping down towards your thighs. How could this man that you couldnβt stand even leave you feeling this way from just one firm touch. And in the moment all you can say or do is utter the truth.
βFuck off Max, yβknow I hate you, I think the whole grid knows that.β
By now the rest of the drivers had given us enough space to talk it to ourselves without interrupting us.
βOr so you say, we all know you only hate me cause youβre scared of me.β
βOf what, Whatever this is? If there's anyone here we should be talking about its you, coming up out of nowhere drunk as fuck to try ruin my night cause evry other woman here canβt deal with your bullshit.β
His hand finds its way sliding down lower and lower as we speak, his gaze never leaving mine, the look in his eyes anything but warm, it was so cold and sharp it was piercing through your skull leaving you lost on what words to utter out. He leans into my ear, close enough to almost bite it as he whispers out his next words.
βYou come in here after ruining my race, walk around wearing a dress you can hardly even call a dress and expect me to ignore it. If it was up to me Iβd ruin you right here right now, not chase I like it but because you deserve it after that race. You fucked with me so iβll fuck with you Schatje.β
You let out a gasp, one that is full of nothing but pure shock and anger. Fucking Max Verstappen.
The next while all blurred together, all you remember is storming of the dancefloor, getting a few more shots before somehow in some way ending up in a taxi with Max, agreeing it was practical as you both lived in the same area.Yet somehow you had found your way in into the same elevator on the way up to his apartment his mouth on yours, passionately marking it as his, his demeanour dominant and angry, his feeling pent up from the race and now he was ready to take it out on you, and you hated to admit it but you wanted it so bad.
The ding of the elevator and the opening of the door left the both of you scrambling to make it back into the apartment as quick as possible, stumbling a few times as Max looked for his key as he ran his other hand through his hair you had made messy by your attempts of tugging it back in the elevator. As the door swung open the both of you stumbled in still tangled within one another, mouths fighting for dominance.Β
He presses you up against the door as he finally manages to shut it, arms trapping you beneath him, but you can't let him take the upper hand, you fight your way to push him onto the closet bed or couch to somehow reclaim your dominance like you had today on track, but your efforts were lost when his hands found their way down your ass to your thighs, picking you up effortlessly and throwing you onto his pristinely tidy bed. His mouth leaves your for a moment as he goes to undo a few buttons on his shirt.
βWalking around in that dress tonight, bet you expected this to happen, probably with Chalres, bet you were waiting for it, but no had to swoop in and take you for myself liefje, show you just how you deserve to be treated.β
You want to say something, but no words leave your mouth, all that you can focus on is the Dutch man in front of you, his body, his voice, that stupid nickname, and the slick feeling growing in between your thighs. When you do manage to find some words, all it does is fuel his lust further.
βI hate you.β
βYou wish you could, yet I know you donβt, in fact I bet it;s the opposite, you tell yourself you hate me but weβll see whose name youβll be moaning like the whore you are, my whore, mine after tonight.β
His lips make their way down to your neck, marking it up as he bites your skin roughly before sucking on it sweetly, as he does all you can do is let out a soft whimper at the sudden pain mixed with pleasure.
βIs that all you have to say schatje? You like the thought of just being mine donβt you? Having to walk around with marks Iβve left on you, showing everyone youβre mine, sure you won today but this is what you really want and you know it.β
βFuck you Max, sore fucking loser scared of losing his big ego to me.β
βYouβre right I will be fucking you, Iβll fuck you til all you can think about is me, not that race, cause this is what you wanted, staring up at me these last few weeks with those fucking eyes. Do you know how hard it was to not just fuck you right there in the garage, looking over at me like a needy slut. But no, you made it harder on me, making me wait, dragging me out to the fucking club just to find you.β
He pulls your dress down revealing your tits, he takes in the view before his mouth is all over them, sucking on them and leaving marks on them wherever possible. You know heβs doing this on purpose, getting you as needy and desperate as he can just so he can watch you crumble under him, and beg for more of his touch.
In a moment's time your dress is fully off, thrown somewhere on the floor as he takes off his shirt and takes his belt off, enjoying the view of you spread out on his bed in nothing but a flimsy pair of underwear he canβt wait to take off. He goes to press a hand up against your now soaking cunt, you squirm with the sudden touch, right beside your clit, you let out another involuntary moan trying to feel even more of this touch pushing up against it.
βFucking hell schatje, this wet from what? Just a few kisses and words? God you really are a slut, praised on track while love being talked down on off track hmm?β
βYou wish, Iβm just lonely and you were the one to approach me.β
He scoffs as he takes his hand away from between your thighs as he orders you to take them off, ignoring your comment because even he knows it's bullshit, your chances of being in charge have disappeared.Β
He spends the next few minutes playing with your pussy, making you beg for his fingers to bring you over the edge, you're already moaning his name, asking for more.He's amused at how quick your demeanour changed since he saw you after the race, heβd broken you and he was proud.
You came around his fingers, twice. It was perfect, your body shuddered and you wanted more than just his fingers, you wanted Max, and you wanted all of him.
βPlease Max, fuck me.ββ
βBut liefje I am? Are my fingers not enough for this slut.β
βPlease Max, you know what I mean.β
βYou want my cock is that what you want?β
You whimper as those words leave his lips, because in that moment thatβs all you wanted. And as you do he's already undone his trousers and before you know it his cock is lined up with your dripping cunt. The wait feels like years, youβve already lost whatever dignity you have left and right now all you wanted was to be fucked by the Dutch man, and he made sure to fuck you well.Β
Before you know it you were screaming his name, his length in you was hitting all the right spots, stretching you out as much as possible, it hurt but fuck it felt you good. His gaze was set on you, watching you fall apart because of him, he felt a great sense of pride watching just how much he could ruin you in the span of an hour.
βFuck liefje, your so tight, not gonna last long like this.β
His pace stays steady though, rough and deep, enough to get you over the edge a few times. Your pussy wasnβt going to be able to take it much longer, only having at most one orgasm left in you. And luckily Max himself was about to finish.
His pace quickened and became more sloppy as he got lost in the moment, your orgasm hits before his and as your pussy clenches his high is about to come, he pulls out and in a moments time covers you in his come, all over you tits.
βFucking hell schatje, that was perfect.β
βIt really was Max.β
He admires your body, now glistening with sweat and his cum as he goes to clean it up with a tissue. The two of you share a kiss before sitting in bed together, both exhausted by all the tension and hatred they had resolved in a quick fuck.
βWell I guess we fucked it out instead of killing eachother schatje.β
PLAY STUPID GAMES WIN STUPID PRIZES - Part 6 of "Beneath the Lions Gaze"
STORY MASTERLIST
Warnings - hints towards child neglect, alcohol
tag list (lmk if you want to be added)
@sunflower911 @exeo130-blog @mv1lanaf1
π............ππ¨..
Sienna's racing career had seen its personal gains and losses. Since her later karting days sheβd lost more than most, her fathers look of triumph, her sense of self, and the rival she couldnβt help but love. Yet every setback had shaped her into the driver sheβd become. Now, sheβd secured a seat in Formula 1, the top of the mountain sheβd been climbing before she could even walk. Sheβd fought to reach this point, and she wasnβt about to let her emotions undo her.Β
Sienna knew what Max could do to her. He was the only one that could crack her calm, collected image - the only one who could ignite the flame sheβd been taught to hide. He was the kind of trouble her father had made her want no part of. But walking away had never been an option. Not for Sienna.
-
SIENNA
March 11th 2025
The morning air in Monaco felt ice cold against my face, a pink hue slowly rising on my cheeks as I prepared to head to the airport for the trip to Melbourne. The morning lights spilled over the endless amount of balconies and high rise apartment complexes. I knew Iβd be gone for a short while but it was less about the homesickness I was bound to develop and more about the race weekend itself. My father let me know heβd be there, sending me a long detailed email about his expectations and his high hopes for a first place on the podium.
It was like this my whole career, these deliberate emails, appearances, and painful nights that followed after bad results. Even back in F2 it had strained whatever remnants of their father-daughter relationship they once had, well whatever there was before she started racing. Every instinct I had shown on track was his - the composure in the media and in races, the pace, and the need for success. But once the helmet was lifted off I wanted to be nothing like him.
Before I let my thoughts spiral anymore I heard my phone ring, picking it up from my coat pocket I saw Charlesβs name on the screen, I sighed as I picked up.
βHey whatβs up Charles.β
βMa belle, where the fuck are you, youβre still flying with me right?β I cringe at the nickname, the one heβd started torturing me with years back and one I made sure to show my distaste for every time.
βAlright no need for all this worry, Iβll be there soon just woke up a little late.β
βWell just try to get here on time this once, don't want me slamming you in the media telling them you made us late and made us miss our flight on Thursday.β
Before I even have the chance to think of a response Charles hangs up on me, leaving me with no option but to start up my car and head to the airport. Instead of the usual music Iβd blare on my car rides I chose to sit in silence, leaving me with nothing but the road ahead and my thoughts. Luckily before I knew it I had arrived, headed through security, and was in the process of heading to my gate. I go to call Charles and curse him out for not being at the gate yet himself but as I go to do so I spot a figure in my peripheral vision, Max. I had managed to swallow away all the shame from that night last week, most likely only because I hadnβt seen his face. And of course it was possible, he himself was also heading off for the race, and well also lived in Monaco, I mean why else would I have stumbled into the same elevator as him.
βSienna why the fuck are you all the way over there, get over here!β
The sudden yell catches me off guard as I slowly turn around and to my horror itβs not just Charles there, its Max, both side by side, one with a grin plastered across his face as he waves with the man beside him, well heβs just busy staring off into the distance most likely just as surprised as me to see one another way ahead of the actual race week.
I trudge over to the pair slowly, not because of Charles, but because of the Dutch man beside him. A part of me hoped he had just run into Max and there was nothing more to it.
βSienna I swear itβs been way too long since Iβve seen you, I was starting to think youβd vanished off the face of the Earth.β Charles pulls me in for a short embrace as he goes on about what he had gotten up to in the last two weeks, I try focus as much as I can as my head is pulled away from reality with the same scent that had followed my thoughts around since that one night, I couldn't tell if Max felt the same wave of shame and regret as I did, but from what I could sense it wasnβt far off.
βOh and Max decided to tag along, has some business over there a little earlier this week so.β
I nod my head and force a smile. Fucking Max Vestappen, couldnβt he just fly by himself, or anyone else, just not alongside me. Almost a whole day of being stuck up in the air with his presence alone would be enough to make me lose my sanity, I mean sure Charles was there to help distract myself from him, but I was sure that alone wouldnβt be enough to keep me from jumping off that plane if I had the chance.
12:28 PM
We had managed to board the plane, take off, and settle down without any issues. The only thing distracting me from the obvious issue was the flight itself, even though I had become used to the high speeds of a car with the potential risks that came with it along with the high amount of G-forces it could never take away from the fear of flying. It was a fear I tried bury down as much as possible, knowing there was no way Iβd ever be able to avoid it, especially considering my career forced me to fly around the world most of the time, luckily along with that came the choice of using the money I had earned to fly private, normally with friends to make it more enjoyable and economic.
βWant a drink Sienna? Max and I were going to have one, long flight ahead and well got to keep ourselves entertained somehow.β
Charles' voice startles me as I come back down to reality, looking up at the man standing right in front of me waiting for an answer.
βUh yeah sure, a drink or two would be nice, being stuck on a plane with you and Max is enough of a great reason to have a few.β Even uttering his name was enough to make my blood boil, but to Charles I couldnβt show this distain, and through that somehow managed to keep my cool as I head to where the two men had been chatting for the last while.
An hour and several empty glasses later the mood had become less tense, I felt an ease wash over my body as I took another swig as I listened to Charles go on about another blind date he had found himself on. I sat there glass in hand trying to distract myself from the other man sitting far too close to me for my liking, he was impossible to ignore right now, always visible no matter where I looked. The way he sat, legs spread comfortably, one hand holding his neck while the other held a glass of liquor, both of us sitting silently nodding along pretending to not be deep into thought about that night.
2PM
Somehow in the last hour and so we had found ourselves playing card games, Max being the first to suggest it after he had enough with Charles and his random tangents after he had found a pack of them tucked away in a corner. It had been nothing serious to begin with, a game of snap and 21, yet somehow it had turned into a full blown serious poker game.
The stakes of the current game felt higher than anything on the track in its current state. Charles was relaxed, and clearly amused at the tension and the high amount of champagne he had already consumed and showed no signs of stopping. I was trying my best to not act fazed by the rising tension at the table, doing my best to also stay composed even though I could feel a pair of eyes lingering on me. To be specific Maxβs eyes, the man who had been keeping the steadiest poker face all throughout, at least on the outside.
The Ferrari man had decided to be the one to shuffle the cards, saying it was most fair as it was his βplaneβ and he was being fair to his βguestsβ. As he continued to shuffle them making sure it's fair we talked about the last game, how somehow I had managed to win and it wouldn't be a surprise if I had cheated.
βIβve got way better things to do in life than cheat in a game of unserious poker, nothing even on the stake. Maybe your reputation sure, but Iβll be ruining that on the track instead.β
βLots of strong words there ma belle, but now we have to prove you wrong, at least in poker.β
Max chuckles but doesnβt dare utter a word, only flashing me a playful grin as if to test my temper and make me blunder. I decide to roll my eyes at him and get back to focusing on the now shuffled cards ready to be handed out. Charles looked up at the both of us before raising an eyebrow yet not daring to make a comment.
As the round goes on slowly the air gets more strained once again, Iβve had my glass refilled with another drink as had everyone else as our inhibitions drop as a result. Charles has become both entertained and uncomfortable by the boldness especially between Max and I.
βMax, play your cards carefully, you know youβve never been great at knowing when to fold.β
The Dutch man lets out a strained laugh as he takes another sip of his gin and tonic.
βItβs funny cause I could say the same about you yβknow?"
As our makeshift chips made from spare objects lying around started piling up, so were the unresolved feelings from that tense drunk night, the thoughts seeping in slowly just barely noticeable to say anything about them, but no words were needed when his eyes that caught mine here and there were enough to explain it all.
The plane feels cold, yet my body feels warmer than ever, full of nerves and excitement at the same time. Charles has already lost and had now turned into a weary spectator between the silent battle of Max and I, rivals since day one. I take a glance at my cards as I look up at Max trying to read his face, no words are exchanged in that moment, just a look shark enough to cut through glass. The bet goes all in.
βWell Sienna, you think you can still read me?β
βClearly. Iβve had enough practice with that.β
The cards are laid out in the table sharply, taking a moment before the winner is clear. Itβs Max. Fuck. A wave of disappointment washes over me, one that I knew only Max was able to bring out, once again leaving me second best.
After that the tension dies down, so does the spell that had been cast between Max and I. As I sigh I accept the defeat and nod. Charles makes a comment intended to brighten the mood, which sure works externally, yet internally Iβm boiling with rage watching the Dutch man's face plastered with a grin from his win. I stand up to go use the bathroom, excusing myself as I stand up setting my glass down on the table.Β
While I try to brush past Max he murmurs something quiet enough that only I would be able to hear and comprehend.
βYou always did know how to play me, yet clearly still just second best.β
Fucking Max Verstappen,. He wanted a reaction, he wanted to watch me argue back, break my calm demeanour I was showing. Instead of giving him what I want I walk on, not even daring to look back. Iβd only look back at him when I was the one victorious on the podium this week, looking down at him instead of back.
π............ππ¨..
AUTHORS NOTE!!
GETTING SOEMWHEREEE!! really enjoyed writing the last scene like trust me im the best poker player ever (worst)
Warnings - none just hangovers after a tense drunk moment the night before
tag list (lmk if you want to be added)
@sunflower911 @exeo130-blog @mv1lanaf1
π............ππ¨..
The next morning hit her with the realisation of what occurred harder than the whiskey last night, what had Sienna fucking Blanc done, why did she let it happen. As her eyes adjusted to the light all she could see was the Dutch man's stare etched into the back of my mind. Sienna's head fell into her hands, heavy from both the hangover and the memory of her actions yesterday. She remembered the silence, the thick air becoming more heavy from their intense breathing, his cologne mixed with her scent and a hint of whiskey, it was always the whiskey. She had let the one man she swore to never see again get the better of her even after all these years.
The sun shone through the cracks of the blinds as I stumbled out of bed and made my way through to the kitchen, sighing as my arms came in contact with the cold marble counter supporting my weight as I leaned against it. As I waited for the coffee machine to make my usual espresso I felt the taste of last night's actions in my mouth, the shots mixed with regret. The patterned pounding of my head mixed with the buzz around me left me replacing my morning coffee with a glass of cold water. Even the water tasted like punishment for my actions late last night.
I felt my phone buzz from an unknown spot, trying to reconstruct last night's events after I got back to my apartment, the stumbling, the silent curses towards myself, the lingering smell of the Dutch man floating through my head. I make my way to the bathroom, finding my phone placed on the edge of the vanity, turning it on to find a long list of notifications from the Red Bull team sent an hour prior, some emails, and a few texts from Charles asking me if I got home safe, and the most recent one wondering if I had gotten up and asking how the hangover was going.
I sighed as I began to type out a response, letting him know I did in fact get home safe and that I had as usual forgotten to check my phone, wishing him the best with the hangover he himself was dealing with. I chuckle remembering our night out, well before I ran into him, God how I hated him. I stroll over to the living room having a quick glance at the hanging calendar on the wall, the second week in March marked in a bold red pen βFIRST RACE WEEKβ. There were only a few more days left til my first proper media day before the actual race weekend itself, the dread setting in realising Iβd have to face the man that only had to glance my way to get the better of me. Would he use this against me? Knowing Max I was never sure, he could be so unpredictable, so sudden, so fierce.
I shook myself away from these terrifying thoughts, he felt like a ghost I couldn't exorcise out of my mind, haunting every part imaginable, all over that unfortunate drunk moment in that fucking elevator. Yet the worst part is I was the one that let him in, let him consume my thoughts, all right before my first race week. I was fucked, yet all i was able to think of was his dark gaze that met mine.Β
-
MAX
5:24 AM
The first thing I was met with was the pounding sensation located between my temples, a mouth full of regret, and a mind full of memories. I myself couldnβt remember why I had started drinking, let alone why. I told myself I was stressed about the upcoming season, but it never crossed my mind as to why, until I was face to face with the cause of it all, Sienna. I replayed the moments as I sat up in bed, dragging my hands up to my face, pressing my palms against my drowsy eyes as if by some miracle IΒ could squeeze the headache away. As I closed my eyes a sudden sharp pain rushed throughout my body up to my head. All that I could do is remember the awfully tense silence, her breath hitting my chest as I stepped towards her letting my emotions get the best of me, forgetting to think before I act.Β
As I eventually found the balance to stand up shuffled around the room to find my t-shirt I had thrown off me in a hurry after a busy night of gin and tonics finding themselves piling up on the barstool table. God, how much did I drink? As I staggered out of my room gripping the door frame for extra stability I made my way to the kitchen. Passing by the kitchen island I regained more memories of my drunken activities, a bottle of gin, empty bottle of Schweppes thrown lazily beside the bin, and a few photo albums scattered across the table.
I groaned at the mess staring back at me, I turned around to open the sliding door to the living room, I mean could be worse. I could piece some evidence together to remind myself of my foolish antics once I managed to eventually sway my way to my apartment. I had clearly tried to distract my drunken mind by sim-racing for a while, most likely finding myself frustrated by it, moving on to sit on the couch now tousled, pillows scattered on the couch and the floor. I barely managed to compose my growing annoyance towards my drunken activities a few hours earlier. All this over that elevator incident?
I shuffled towards the shelves and cabinets beside my many trophies and assortment of helmets, luckily hadnβt done anything stupid to them. I did however notice the disorganised clutter on one of the cabinets, the one full of my older achievements from my karting days. As I knelt down carefully trying to keep my balance and steer away from the nausea I felt sinking over me I noticed why I had even gone snooping there in the first place. The photo albums, the fucking karting photo albums. I huffed remembering exactly why I had pulled out those albums in particular. Sienna. I felt sick at the thought of my behaviour, acting like a lovesick puppy just over seeing this girl, woman act in that way towards my intoxicated actions, indulging in her reaction found me even more inebriated, a feeling that shouldn't have felt as good as it did.Β
The walk back to the kitchen found me re-enacting everything in my mind, remembering every small detail, her dishevelled hair, warm whiskey scent mixed with a sweet addictive perfume contrasting my own cologne perfectly. I wanted to remind Sienna of her place, right below me, show her that I may now be her teammate but that did not make me less of the man I was, and that she indeed did not intimidate me. I cautiously picked up one of the photo albums on the counter, scanning the cover to find the date on it. Instead of the usual dated albums this one was titled, βMijn klunsje meisje en ikβ- βMy clumsy girl and Iβ. I chuckled at the stupid title, clearly one that I had put together when I was young.Β
I hesitated to flick through any of the photos, knowing if I had been looking for something in particular last night I had definitely already found it, yet that didnβt satisfy the new grown urge to have a quick peek. Before I had the chance to reminisce I snapped out of it, how pathetic was I? I dumped the photo album onto the marble, letting it make a heavy thump as it hit the surface. I turned around and dragged myself to the bathroom for a cold shower, after all I needed to get last night out of my mind, all the questions, memories, and tension. All the questions and new found curiosity I had gained overnight to do with Sienna, the woman I had sworn since my last karting days to despise with every ounce of my body. Would she use this against me? Finding a weakness in me from that tense situation and implementing a plan to affect my performance on track?
I ran my hand through my unkept hair as I found myself finally feeling at peace as the cold water made its way down my body, trying to wash away everything but the ache in my head. Yet throughout as the water dripped down tracing paths down my hair and chest all that I could think of was Sienna, the one woman I felt was capable of now competing on my level, the one able to challenge me this season. The one I shouldnβt have let in, the only woman that was able to bring back Mad Max, the only woman I swore Iβd never see again. Nevertheless here he was, wondering if she also felt this new spark of tension, something they both knew would affect them on the track. Fucking Sienna Blanc.
π............ππ¨..
AUTHORS NOTE
long time since i updated it!! been a little sick but had to get back to it eventually once again SORRY ITS A SLOW BURN!! but trust itll get better a lot more tension coming!!
warnings: drinking (they lowkey get a little drunk guys)
tag list (lmk if you want to be added)
@sunflower911 @exeo130-blog
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He couldnβt get her off his mind, no matter how many shots he took, no amount of the burning sensation hitting the back of his throat could erase her existence. Sienna fucking Blanc was now his teammate, the same person who stole his first kiss was now trying to steal his chances of winning. Her innocent persona to the public was bound to crack, he knew the real Sienna, the one he knew only he was capable of bringing out. He was the fuel to her fire.
-
The crisp Monegasque air filled the streets, the distant chatter from locals and tourists drowning out the engines of cars, heels, and jazz coming from the usual bars planted around the place. I knew these streets like the back of her hand, I had grown up here, and seen every inch of Monaco yet never could get bored of it. The ground was slightly wet due to the rainfall earlier leading to the occasional sound of puddles splashing on the roads due to the many luxury cars making their way around. I sighed as I admired my surroundings.
I asked Charles to share a drink or two with me tonight, a few drinks I knew I deserved after the awkward car launch due to a certain someone's presence. IΒ knew Charles would be a great distraction from all the thoughts racing around my head even for a while, he had learned to deal with my usual issues through my frequent late night drunk calls, and early morning gym βtalkathonsβ as he liked to call them.
βYou know you never told me about how the event went, saw an article or two about you and Max and some like rivalry or something. Did they mention the karting incident or something?.β I wince at the question before sighing, shaking my head.
βNo, but I mean they were very close to stepping into that territory, fucking asking us some bullshit about whether or not I even have a chance in the Red Bull. I think Iβm well capable, even more than Max himself.β His name leaves a bitter taste on my tongue, at least tonight Iβd be able to escape the mention of the man, just for tonight even that would be enough. Charles looks at me with a grin as we approach our usual bar for drinking away sorrows, our favourite tucked away on a desolate lane between the busy streets. The dim lights made themselves present through the old-fashioned windows, through them seeing many of the locals chatting away about their livelihoods.
βLadies first.β Charles places his hand gently on my shoulder as I head in first, scouting the tables for the perfect one far away from the rest of the customers. Charlesβ touch lingers til we find our seats at a table tucked away in the corner, I let out a sigh I didn't even know I was holding in as the Monegasque man opposite me lets out a chuckle.
βYou really are in need of a few drinks, Sienna, jeez sounds like youβve just solved a hard maths equation.β I gently hit his shoulder at the mention of maths. Charles always teased me about my hatred towards maths since Secondary, always getting him to help me out with algebra in between our usual weekends on the track. Before we knew it the drinks started flowing in, new glasses appearing every once in a while, with no signs of slowing down.
βUgh Iβd do anything to go back to those karting days, just to tell young Charles heβd literally be at Ferrari when heβs older, heβd genuinely go crazy.β I chuckled as I turned to look out the window as Charles went on to order us our last drinks before, he had insisted we start to make our way back after this round otherwise weβd most likely wake up hungover on a bench or in a bush.
The bar had quietly become more empty, leaving Charles and I to the sound of peace, one neither of us had heard in a long time. It was nice to have simple moments like this, having Charles alongside me had made me forget all about the only other man able to cloud up my mind.Β
-
As the party scene in Monaco came to an end, so did our escape from the world at that table, eventually we had found ourselves directing the streets drunkenly like we had many times before. The slow walk back in the sea-tinged air musky with the scent of Charles overpowering cologne.The night felt nostalgic, it had reminded her of her 18th birthday, a night sheβd never forget. God how she missed the simplicity of everything back then.
Eventually we stood outside my apartment complex, the one Iβd moved into the second I turned 18, the only place that ever felt like home.
βWell, this is my stop then Mr.Leclercβ
βIt was a nice night spent Ms.Blanc, get up there safe, donβt want to get a call telling me youβve broken an ankle on the way up to your place.β
βCanβt make any promises! Get home safe yourself, see you soon!β
I gave him a side hug before disappearing off into the complex, stumbling as I made my way to the elevator. I giggled to myself as I thought back on the night, I felt like all the pressure from the event the day before had been lifted, I was ready to race.
Or Not. What the fuck.
The elevator chimed before the doors slid open, and there he was in all his glory. Max Verstappen, the one man I had spent the whole night trying to forget, why was he here. He ran a hand through his already dishevelled hair, face blushed, as his eyes looked glossy. I felt the deep anger towards this man I had masked away tonight rise again. I felt his gaze linger on me, one full of a passionate drive for resentment, I fought with myself, I couldnβt look up, I wouldnβt dare look up.
But then I did, I betrayed my own words, his usual cold eyes had a dangerous spark that lit up his eyes, one too fierce to be mistaken for anger alone. No words were exchanged, but Lord did the usual short journey feel like an eternity, the air feeling tighter with every second in one another's presence, then what building in silence. My body instinctively pressed up against the wall of the confined space, whether it was the alcohol talking or my own body I didnβt know. Yet when Max stepped closer towards me I felt my breathing hitch, his muscular frame hidden beneath the blouse making my body feel small next to his. When would the fucking elevator stop. A part of me wanted to lean into his body, feel his touch, feel him, while the other part wanted to yell, intimidate him, and strike the man with your palm.Β
Before either one of us could take it any further the elevator rang and the doors slid open. My eyes broke away from his as I slithered my way out of the tense area where our scents lingered in the stale air, tangled within one another like something unfinished. I stumbled as I ran to my apartment, ready to try to erase any presence of that moment from my long term memory.Β All because of Max bloody Verstappen.
π............ππ¨..
AUTHORS NOTE
FINALLY GETTING SOEMWHERE WOOO I mean kinda got lost throughout but hope you guys enjoyed it!!
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tangentwithtanner
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