Just The Friend - Where Max becomes world champion and reader is his friend.
Crashing Down, Part 2 - Where reader had a terrible crash two years ago, Lando broke up with her, Toto is back into his scheming ways and Max is just there.
Charles Leclerc
Coming soon.
Daniel Ricciardo
Coming soon.
Before you request...
I write for the following drivers: Charles Leclerc, Daniel Ricciardo and Max Verstappen. I am not going to take requests for the other drivers unless specifically mentioned.
I am not going to post on a schedule - Unfortunately I am not in my teens anymore and have responsibilities which have a higher priority than my writing.
I am sorry if I didn't write your request. I might have seen it before or I didn't feel inspired. I don't want to accidentally copy someone's work.
pairing: Max Verstappen x Wolff!Reader x Lando Norris
word count: +/- 2500
plot: Where reader had a terrible crash two years ago, Lando broke up with her, Toto is back into his scheming ways and Max is just there.
note: thank you for all the love in part 1. I took me a little time to write part 2 and it was supposed to be longer but I felt that the end of this part was a suitable ending so it'd be split into two (lol)
I am not sure of taglists are still a thing but let me know if you want to be updated <3
part 1
masterlist
Unsurprisingly, Max won the first race of the season again. Unfortunately for you, your father kept bothering you about your little scheme on a daily basis. You had hoped he would forget about it, or more cruelly, you secretly hoped the Red Bull car to blow up or turn into a shit car overnight.
But no. Max had to do his thing and win confidently by over 20 seconds. Seeing how he almost flew across the track past you ignited a spark you forgot existed for a split second. As much as you had settled into your new role, position, or whatever you were doing alongside your father, it didn’t quite ease the itch you were having, your need for speed. Your old life as a driver felt like such a lifetime ago. A fever dream. The crash not only shattered your leg but also crushed the dreams that fueled your motivation ever since you were a little girl. You sat in silence, realising that you would never experience the thrill of being behind the wheel again. At the same time, you weren’t sure if you would ever dare to do so. It was a constant emotional battle, one that would keep you up at night.
You turned your attention back to the track when you heard the loud engine noise disrupt your late afternoon contemplation. Lando Norris raced past in his orange-coloured McLaren, skillfully following the racing line around the corner where you were seated. Your attention was fixed on his car. You were watching him become one and the same with his car, which made you feel proud. You had always believed in the McLaren driver’s talent since he entered the grid three years after you did. He approached his racing craft differently. It felt natural to you, like another limb attached to your body. You didn’t need to think, maybe that was your problem. Lando was a lot more precise. Everything needed to be perfect. Perhaps that was his flaw as well.
As you watched him carve through the empty track, you couldn’t help but feel proud of how far Lando had come. But that pride was enlaced with a deep sadness that haunted those feelings every time you stole a glance at him. Every time you locked eyes, it was a reminder of the life you had once been a part of, and now it was a world, a life, you psychically couldn’t touch anymore. And you had to watch from a distance as Lando Norris chased his dreams.
It had been two years since the last time you raced together. The last time you both held the title of Formula 1 drivers, did shoots, did press, and sometimes even pissed off your PR managers. You shared the same dreams, the same thoughts and the same annoyances. You had been partners on and off the track, creating a tough bond to break. It made things easy and challenging at the same time. Your relationship was good. It was still a secret, but you spent the rest of the time together at the race weekends and the days after. You were talking about strategy, which you actually weren’t allowed to, laughing about inside jokes, and being there for one another whenever one of you had a terrible weekend. It felt like Lando and you were invincible until everything suddenly stopped.
No matter how much you tried to deny it, to shake it off like it didn’t matter, there would always be this ache or emptiness of seeing Lando, the boy you once loved, live the life you had imagined for each other. Moments like this, where the roaring sound of a car’s engine at full speed on an empty track where the sun was slowly setting, made you doubt if you could ever adjust to the life you were forced to live.
You were supposed to compete at the highest level, pushing each other to your limits. Win races, perhaps even championships. Go public…
Now, Lando was still competing in races around the world, living the dream you shared from a young age. Meanwhile, you found yourself stuck watching from the sidelines, longing to be out on the same track, the deafening sound of the engine in your ears, but held back by the broken leg, the most significant consequence of your crash.
And then there were the off-track part of your feelings, quite a bit more complicated. Even though you both had agreed to move on, in Lando’s case, pretend like nothing had happened in the first place, you still felt connected to the young McLaren driver. But he was with someone else now. Her name was Hailey. About five-three, just his type. And in contrast to your relationship, where he’d only kept you for his eyes only, she was all over his Instagram story.
Your phone vibrated in your pocket, pulling you from your deep thoughts. It was a text from your father: “Meeting in five. Don’t be late.”
You grunted as you struggled to stand up, your hand supporting your knee that had taken a hard blow during the crash. Based on the grunts you were making, people would have assumed you were reaching your forties or worse. It was time to focus. There was no need to dwell on something beyond your control when there was something else you could make a difference in, which was recruiting Max Verstappen to Mercedes. At least this was achievable, you thought, but it wouldn’t be easy.
From being karting friends to training buddies and eventually your biggest competitor, Max has always played an essential role in your career. Regardless of his role on the track, he’d always been a friend off the track. However, lately, it feels like something had changed. Whenever the two of you were together, there was a tension that wasn’t there before, and it was becoming harder to ignore. Perhaps it was because you were starting to feel uncomfortable whenever he was around. After all, you were hiding a secret from him, which was never the case before. Your father had become even pushier since Max won so dominantly in Bahrein. You understood why. It made sense strategically. He was one of the strongest, most driven drivers on the grid, and it would definitely help secure Mercedes’ chances for new trophies in the upcoming years. However, it wasn’t that black and white for you.
As you entered the Mercedes motorhome, you spotted Max in conversation with your father. Max’s tall figure appeared relaxed, his arms casually crossed as he listened to Toto. You paused in the doorway, your heart beating, and you tried to catch your breath. It felt like the clock had stopped ticking, and everything except for Max and you had stopped moving. And then the clock moved at triple speed, but you stood frozen while your hand tried to search for something close by to hold on to. Your hand successfully reached the doorpost of one of the first rooms in the motorhome. Before Max could turn and see you, you took a small step back, pressing yourself against the wall, hiding from the Red Bull boy and your father. A part of you wanted to leave entirely before either of them could notice you so you wouldn’t have to deal with the awkward situation you were about to enter. After everything, the crash, the breakup with Lando, you didn’t have the emotional capacity to deal with this ‘will they, won’t they’ situation with Max and your father.
On the other hand, you wanted to close the distance and join their conversation since they were the people you felt most comfortable with. You knew Max would understand if you explained what was happening, he always did. But you couldn’t lie to yourself, and you had doubts this time. You tried to sneakily look past the wall to the place where both men were still deeply in conversation with each other. Your fingers clenched in a fist as your pulse was quickening again.
As you tried to calm yourself down, you didn’t notice Max glanced up and found you almost instantly. His blue eyes locked into yours a little longer than necessary.
“What are you doing?” Max called to you, an easy smile on his face.
You felt caught as your cheeks turned slightly pink. “I- I-” Before you could answer Max, your father came to the rescue and said, “I asked her to join us.”
Sheepishly, you emerged from your hiding spot, your cheeks even redder than before. You motioned a silent ‘thank you’ to your father for helping you recover from this slightly embarrassing manoeuvre. “What were you talking about?” you asked both men, but your gaze stuck on Max.
“I was just telling Toto how much I’m looking forward to tomorrow. The car felt good today, but I had some suggestions for improvements,” Max explained.
“It’s never good enough, is it,” you teased lightly, trying to ignore the underlying tension.
“Never,” Max replied, his eyes sparkling.
Your father began walking towards one of the conference rooms in the motorhome. Max and you followed him like two lost puppies. When you reached the room, Toto asked you both to sit down.
“As much as I am happy to discuss the upcoming race, I have invited you, Max, to discuss important matters. Particularly for next season,” your father said, his voice firm and his figure straight, serious, and businesslike. Your gaze continued to switch between the two men in the room. Your heart was racing, and your palms started to sweat so much you had to hide them underneath the seat of the chair you were sitting on.
“Max, I know you have been very vocal about staying at Red Bull until the end of your contract. I respect your loyalty towards Helmut Marko, but I think there’s an opportunity that could benefit both of us.” Your pulse quickened even faster as your father explained his plans towards the Red Bull Racing driver. “One of my biggest regrets in my career is not having given you a better deal when I had the chance to. I wish to make it up to you.”
You had to hand it to your father. He knew how to persuade someone to accept a deal. It would have worked for you as well. If you were in Max’s shoes, you wouldn’t have known how quickly to make the switch. However, you were also impulsive and didn’t take the time for important decisions as you probably should at times.
While your mind raced to other places, you could see a flicker of hesitation in Max’s eyes. Mercedes and Toto were prepared to drop their plans for Max and meet his needs wherever they could. The deal and the opportunity were more tempting than anything you had encountered before in your years as a Formula 1 driver. Not that anyone had the guts ever to recruit you as a driver since your future was set ever since you were a little girl. Nonetheless, your father was prepared to lay all his cards on the table. Your father’s plan for Mercedes and Max could change the course of Max’s career.
But for Max, it was more than money or prestige. Of course, he wanted the best car on the grid, but so did the 19 other drivers. Who wouldn’t? For him, loyalty was also crucial, possibly the most important thing. Since his Formula 1 debut, Max has been loyal to Helmut Marko, director and head of Red Bull’s driver development programme. You knew how much that man meant to Max, and convincing him to leave wouldn’t be easy. It seemed nearly impossible, you thought after contemplating it.
As you drifted off again, your father finished his pitch and leaned back into his chair, his sharp eyes on the younger boy opposite him. “Think about it,” he said. “Mercedes is your future.”
Max shifted in his seat, his gaze flicking between you and your father. “I’m not going to lie. It’s a tempting offer, Toto,” he muttered. “But-” You heard him release a deep sigh before he continued, “It’s not an easy decision,” he admitted, confirming your previous thoughts.
You squinted your eyes as you were looking at Max. His conflict was noticeable. You couldn’t read a definitive ‘yes’ or ‘no’ on his face. And you knew him well enough that his loyalty wasn’t the only factor weighing on him. There was something more, something he wasn’t telling you.
“I-” you stuttered, trying to fill the silence in the room that made you heavily uncomfortable.
“It’s as much news to her as it is to you,” your father intervened, “I apologise for bursting in like this, but it couldn’t wait any longer.”
You looked at your father in disbelief. It felt as if your eyes were about to fall out of their sockets, your mouth wide open, and your face red as a tomato. What was he talking about? What was he doing? Who did he think he was, completely disregarding you in this situation and leaving you in an uncomfortable predicament?
Before you could say anything else, your father announced the meeting would end. He explained he had another one to attend. One, you weren’t required to attend with him. Max and you stayed behind as your father left the room. It was silent for a few minutes as both of you contemplated what to say. “Do you want me to leave Red Bull and come to Mercedes?” Max asked, turning to you. His voice was softer than usual.
You swallowed as you nervously played with the sleeve of your shirt. “I don’t know, Max. I don’t think I can make this decision for you,” you replied to him in the same soft tone. “I mean, my loyalties lie to the team. My history was set in stone, and then it all changed. I- I think it’s time to do what you want, damn whatever anyone else is thinking.”
Max rolled his chair a little closer, his eyes searching yours in desperation. “Whatever I want, huh?” His words hung in the air, making it impossible to look away. It felt like your eyes were stuck on his, gawking at him. His words kept repeating in your head as you tried to figure out how to reply. “It’s complicated,” you finally answered, barely above a whisper, filling the silence in the room.
Max’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he would pursue the conversation further. Then he sighed deeply and ran a hand through his messy hair in frustration.
pairing: Max Verstappen x Wolff!Reader x Lando Norris
word count: +/- 2300
plot: Where reader had a terrible crash two years ago, Lando broke up with her, Toto is back into his scheming ways and Max is just there.
note: I haven't used this account in years, but I genuinely missed writing and thought this was a great way of coming back. I have this entire story planned out, but I am not sure if it's good enough. Please let me know if you're interested.
part 2
masterlist
It was 2024. The new racing season was about to begin, with the yearly reminder that you were forced to stand on the sidelines. The roaring engines of the current generation of Formula 1 cars echoed through the Mercedes garage you were currently settled in.
This sound once fueled your entire driving force, and you first discovered this passion when you visited the racing ground with your parents as a child. It must have been twenty years ago. You were around five or six years old. Since that moment, the sound of engines has been a constant presence in your life.
Anticipation and excitement surged through your body as you lowered yourself for the first time in the car of your biggest idol, Lewis Hamilton. Then, the adrenaline rush followed. It was a moment of realisation as if you had found the path you were destined to follow. This feeling was something you wanted to continue to crave after, and it, racing, became your daily motivation. You were okay with wherever you raced, the important matter was that you were in the car, and the engine roared as loud as possible. The sound became a bittersweet reminder of your unfulfilled dreams as time passed. Instead of contemplating your next race and how you could receive a podium finish or, ideally, take home the trophy, you were consumed by persistent thoughts of missed opportunities and countless “what ifs”.
Your fingers brushed against the faded scar on your upper right leg. It was a hot day, so the scar was visible to everyone. It wasn’t pretty, but you rather had the visual reminder of that terrible Sunday afternoon than the mental one that hunted you daily. It’d still hurt, the ache being a reminder of the crash that had taken everything from you. Your life afterwards instantly became a stark contrast to the life you once lived, and the sport you loved dearly had slipped through your fingers.
As life progressed, with or without your approval, you continued to be a part of the Mercedes crew, but everything changed. Everyone moved on. Your father had to assign someone else your seat. George Russell was your replacement. Initially, it’d hurt to see him wearing your suit, your helmet, and have him sitting in your car. Dinners at home were silent. Your parents were afraid to hurt your feelings by talking about how well George was adjusting next to Lewis. It was a thought that occupied your dreams, but you were better, at least a little better, and you decided you were ready to move on. Perhaps not as a racing driver, but you couldn’t let go of the motorsport entirely. At least not yet.
You stood at the edge of the Mercedes garage, watching as the pit crew worked on their preparations for the weekend’s race. The crew hasn’t changed much since you last were in the garage. Many familiar faces of engineers, mechanics and staff greeted, hugged, and welcomed you back. But you could sense the stress and tension through the smiling faces. Everyone was working more hours than intended to have the best car possible for the first race of the season. Everyone was equally important, including you, whether you were a racing driver or not.
As you stood at the edge of your father’s garage, your gaze drifted across the other side of the grid, landing on the orange-coloured banner of McLarens’ garage. Coincidentally, it was when Lando Norris decided to display his newly found confidence. His arm hugged his helmet tight as he was in the middle of a conversation with a few members of his team. Next to him stood his current girlfriend, watching him like he was the brightest sun.
A pang hit your chest. It was as if someone stabbed you with a knife and then twisted it. Again, and again, and again. You hadn’t expected Lando to replace you as well. The crash had driven a wedge between you, something neither of you knew how to fix. Fear, pain, trauma, and Lando’s career further strained the distance between you. And you both just let it happen. It wasn’t either of your faults. It felt like it was something that was entirely out of your hands. Eventually, the love that was once there was replaced with memories and excoriating silence.
It was hard, yes. But the fact Lando moved on after two weeks was cruel. On the bright side, the pain of your broken heart numbed the pain of your injuries.
Unconsciously, you were twisting the ring on your finger. Honestly, you hadn’t expected to still feel like a drowned, sad baby bunny after two years of not setting foot on the grid. Seeing him, seeing how he’d moved on, was painful, but hearing how the media knew was something else entirely. Your relationship wasn’t a secret, per se. You just never announced it, but people noticed the secret glances and the time you spent together when you weren’t preparing for a race. He never shared anything about you, and you just accepted it. Funnily enough, you still would.
Your father’s voice cut through your thoughts, pulling you back to the present. Brooding was something you did every day after your crash, and you were thankful your father helped you when you got caught in too deep.
“Hey,” he called, walking towards you.
“I wanted to ask if you wanted to join the strategy meeting in fifteen minutes.”
You nodded, “Sure, of course.” Toto paused. He was a considerate team principal but an even more worried father. Since you had asked to join the 2024 season, he had been unsure if it was the best for you. Toto gave you a long look. “Are you alright?”
“I enjoyed plotting strategies to outsmart the other drivers, not just outrace them,” you said with a soft smile.
You noticed your father’s smile turn to a worrying frown. You knew he didn’t want to push you. If it were up to him, you were still at home, watching everything from a TV screen, but he also knew it was in his daughter’s blood to be a part of this world, just as much as it was in his. You had the same fire and the same relentless drive to succeed, especially when it came to motorsport.
As father and daughter made their way to the Mercedes motorhome, the world of Formula 1 came to life. Photographers snapped shots of drivers and team members, while the media and fans went into vulture mode as soon as a driver, or someone who looked like one, walked by them. You became indifferent to the whole ordeal after your second race weekend. The grid was the place you had grown up in, after all.
You felt the flash from one of the photographers’ cameras as you walked through the grid. A little smile started to grow on your face. You were not behind the wheel anymore, not one of the twenty drivers everyone talked about, but it was still the only place that felt like home.
Your mind wandered once more, revisiting your days as a racing driver. You had been good, no, not just good, one of the best. However, everyone makes mistakes, and you were no exception. A single misjudgment had cost you everything. The crash had been brutal and a terrifying reminder of the thin line between life and death in the world of motorsport. Fortunately, you had survived, but your career was not as fortunate. Now, all that remained was walking the paddock as Toto’s daughter, attending meetings, and most frustratingly were the pitying looks from those who stole a glimpse of you.
You had almost reached the Mercedes motorhome as you heard a familiar voice rang out. “Wait!”
You turned around to see the current world champion, Max Verstappen, approaching in his usual attire. His confident stroll, with his head held high and a slight smile playing on his lips, carried him effortlessly through the grid. He had always been like that, confident, walking with a certain amount of presence that made it impossible not to notice him. Whether he was the reigning champion or not, he had this essence.
But Max Verstappen was more than just the fiery Red Bull Racing driver, at least to you. He was one of your closest friends and the rock who had been there for you when the world came tumbling down.
“Are you ready for a weekend of chaos?” Max asked, grinning as he stopped in front of you, leaning casually against the stanchion of the motorhome.
You laughed, rolling your eyes. “As ready as ever. How about you?”
Max shrugged. “You know me. I thrive on chaos.” His eyes flashed mischievously, hinting at his love for excitement.
The friendship between the two of you had always been stable. It was built on a shared understanding of being born into a family of motorsport fanatics, mutual respect and the everlasting feeling of stepping in a Formula 1 car simultaneously for the first time in your career.
On top of that, Max never saw you as weak, fragile or broken after your accident. He never showed you pity but instead gave you space or an embrace when you grieved everything you had lost.
He smiled, but there was something softer in his gaze when he looked at you. “You know, it’s good to see you out here again. I know it’s not the same, but…”
You swallowed a breath you didn’t know you held and nodded. You understood what Max tried to say even if he didn’t finish his sentence. He was right. It wasn’t the same. It never would be. But being here, the place you used to call home, mended a piece of you you had been missing for the past two years.
Before Max could say more, Toto cleared his throat behind them. “The meeting is going to start soon. We need to go.”
Max straightened and pushed himself off, offering a nod to Toto. “Good luck this weekend.”
Toto smiled politely in return. “You too, Max.”
As Max strolled towards his team’s motorhome, Toto turned to you. “There’s something important I want to discuss about Max,” he exclaimed.
You raised an eyebrow, surprised by your father’s sudden change in tone. “What about him?”
“We need him at Mercedes.”
His words lingered in the air, and you blinked, caught off guard by your father’s directness. “Are you attempting to steal Max?” you uttered in a hushed tone.
“He’s the best driver on the grid. We need him for the future.”
Your father’s words took you aback. You had always believed you were destined to be the future of Mercedes, and there was no need for a Max or even a George. But you also couldn’t blame your father, or anyone for that matter. Lost in your thoughts, you realised you had been staring at your father in disbelief as he revealed his plan to take the brown-haired boy away from his supposed forever home.
“I didn’t expect to be involved in some kind of scheme,” you hushed, processing his words.
Toto nodded in understanding, but that didn’t stop him from letting go of the idea of adding the three-time world champion to his roster of drivers. “He trusts you. You have been racing together ever since you were little kids. You have a connection with him that no one else does. If anyone can get him to consider joining Mercedes, it’s you.”
You laughed at him, not believing what your father was saying. Lewis deciding to leave was a little drastic, but this…
He wasn’t wrong though. You and Max were close. But asking him to leave the place that he considered home? He said he wasn’t sure he would ever go. Red Bull was to Max what Mercedes was to you. His loyalty to the team and to Helmut Marko was like family.
“You’re asking a lot, dad,” you whispered, your mind racing with all the possible scenarios. Max could agree, and your anxious time on the grid would be much less, but he could also be enraged at the idea, being so offended by the thought you used him as a pawn to better your father’s team. Perhaps he would leave altogether? How were you supposed to survive this shit show then?
Your father’s gaze softened, but only slightly. “I know, pea, but the sport is always moving forward. We have to think two or three years ahead. I have to think about the future of Mercedes. And Max-”
He thought about his following couple of words carefully.
“Max is the future.”
You glanced back towards where Max went off to, the Red Bull motorhome, where he stood and chatted with a couple of crew members. You sighed, running your hand through your hair. Your father was right, and you hated it. George was good. But Max and George, and with your current expectations for your car in two years? Mercedes could be unstoppable.
But thinking about your father’s plan created a knot in your stomach. You didn’t want to lose him, you weren’t sure if he could be mad, or worse… And then there was Lando…
You pushed your thoughts aside, forcing yourself to stumble back into reality. You have to decide what your future holds. Was it your happiness? Mercedes? Max? Lando? It felt like your head was about to explode.
“I’ll talk to him,” you finally said, your voice the most steady it had been today.
Toto gave you a smile of appreciation. “Thank you, but it’s not going to be easy. We need to be careful. Max isn’t going to be an easy sell, but if anyone can change his mind, it’s my daughter.”
You were unsure whether that was a compliment or a burden. You also weren’t sure if it was a good decision.
This was just the beginning of something much bigger, on and off the track.
plot: Where Max becomes the world champion and you are just his friend.
note: This is my first fic uploaded on this account. I didn’t want to make it too long as this is kind of an introduction to my writing.. Let me know your thoughts, ideas, anything. My ask is always open. On top of that, this is quite a throwback to last winter, but we were celebrating here like crazy and I had to get this of my chest.
masterlist
As you were watching the screen intensely you were twiddling your thumbs. Max was about ten seconds behind Lewis with a handful of laps to go. The chances of him winning the race were slim. Really slim. Even though he had two opportunities to overtake the rapid Mercedes car, he just wasn’t quick enough. They played a long game, but a smart one at that and the zero-point difference in the end makes this so much more painful to watch.
But you couldn’t lose hope. You were not about to lose faith in your friend because then you would have to admit all would be lost and you weren’t prepared for that.
“I thought you might need this.” A familiar voice drifted your gaze away from the screen as your eyes met Jos as he was walking towards you with two small cups in his hands. “I did anyway,“ he said as he handed one of the cups to you. It was quite warm, but as your nerves had lowered your body temperature slightly, the coffee might warm you up a little. It wasn’t cold outside. Not at all, since you were in Abu Dhabi. You weren’t wearing a jacket either, but you watched the race so intensely you didn’t even move a muscle and it started to become apparent to you.
You looked up from the cup to Jos and you noticed how pale he had become. You couldn’t imagine what he was going through. You were dying inside and you wondered how the man even had a pulse left.
“I haven’t had the opportunity to thank you, Y/N,” Jos said as he walked towards you to lean against the wall next to you so he still had a good view of the race. You covered your tight smile with the cup of coffee he just offered you and fixed your gaze on the liquid that moved ever so slightly. “For being there for him. It’s different when it comes from you. I don’t know why, but it is.”
“It’s what friends are for. I can’t imagine having to deal with so much hate. To have so many media outlets writing horrible things about you. People hating you. It would destroy me because-” you stopped when you realised you spilled a few drops of coffee on the floor. You sighed while watching the last drops escape the exterior of the cup as they fell on the ground, “because I would believe them. And it would destroy me if he ever had that feeling too,” you whispered. You looked up as you felt Jos’ hand on your shoulder and was met with a sincere smile.
“You are a great friend,” he told you. You nodded at him as token of appreciation. As silence arose between the two of you, your mind drifted to a memory from a couple months ago.
“Max!” you yelled as you ran after him. He didn’t look back and continued walking, his helmet in between his waist and arm. You touched his free arm carefully once you finally caught up to him and he stopped in response.
“Please Y/N/N, leave,” he begged as he moved his head slowly towards your direction without completely turning around. He rested his chin on the edge of his shoulder as a deep sigh escaped his lips.
“No,” you demanded as you grabbed his arm tighter and tugged it, forcing him to face you completely. “I am not leaving when things get hard. When they don’t go your way. You should know that by now.”
“He is an asshole! He ruined my race. I was about to win that damn thing!” Max talked loudly. He finally brought his guard down when he noticed no one else was in the room except the two of you. He placed his helmet somewhere safe before he was about to throw it at the wall or something else entirely. “He is so-. so-“ Max stammered as he couldn’t find the words.
“He is so caught up in the championship the same way you are, Max. Even though he has won a few times already, I can imagine it doesn’t make it mean less. Especially since there’s a world record at stake and finally having some intense competition again. I know this might not be something you want to hear or want to acknowledge, but I am not someone who’s going to sweettalk you through everything. It was an incident. You endured worse and you showed them it wasn’t going to bring you down. This shouldn’t be any different. You are going to win this damn thing. If not today, then in December. When it really matters.”
He sighed as you had finished your last sentence. The corners of his lips turned slightly upwards. His meek smile trying to hide the frustration from the crash you so desperately tried to release, but you knew Max and he needed time to contemplate.
“I know,” he finally whispered, “It’s just that I am so done with this manipulative story they are trying to create, and this is just the icing on the cake.”
“Let them talk,” you said as you gently shoved his arm. “You just need to make sure you drive the quickest.” He chuckled as his face brightened, but as quickly the smile appeared as quickly it faded away. Startled, Max looked at you with one part confusion and the other a feeling he couldn’t recognize yet. He was at a loss of words. How did you always know what to say? To make him feel better about himself instead of worse. But most importantly, without trying to downplay anything and without being afraid of trying to hurt his feelings. He was thankful you were being his friend, at least he thought.
Your mind drifted back towards the present when you heard a couple people yelling in the background.
“Latifi just crashed!” someone near you screamed. You moved your gaze towards the nearest screen that was hanging in the garage. And they were right. A blue coloured car stood completely still against one of the barriers near corner 14. Soon after, a yellow-coloured flag appeared near the crash site.
Then you immediately thought of Max. He had a chance. A small one, but he could close the gap between him and Hamilton in those five laps, could he? They wouldn’t finish a race like this with a safety car, right? Surely not?
With each second you started to doubt the chances the Dutch man had. He hadn’t had the best luck in his career, but this was a sprinkle of hope he desperately needed.
Minutes passed and somehow Max was behind Hamilton. He was faster as he had fresher tires and you knew this was Max’ lap to lose. He would become world champion after this lap. There was no doubt in your mind.
Your throat started to become tighter, your eyes started to dwell, and chills appeared all over your body as you started to get colder and colder. You felt two strong hands on your shoulders as Jos stood behind you, looking just as intensely at the screen as you were.
“Max Verstappen you are the world champion! The world champion!” you heard Christian Horner yell through the garage. As you were jumping up and down and your eyes started to water even more. You heard a distant pair of heels approach your direction and were quickly met with a pair of slim, tanned arms around your neck. “Oh my god!” Kelly screamed in your right ear which started to ring. “He did it, Y/N! Max won!” she yelled even louder. She immediately let go of your arms as someone in the garage screamed Max was on his way over.
You followed Kelly as she left already and witnessed father and son in a warm embrace. Max hurled himself in his Jos’ arms, nearly knocking him over as he forgot in the moment, he wasn’t a ten-year-old boy anymore.
Once his father let go, Kelly immediately wringed herself into his arms and kissed his cheek. She whispered something into his ear, and he smiled at her words. You witnessed the loved-up pair in front of you. A wistful smiled played across your face. Kelly was good for him. He matured so quickly once he got into a relationship with her. Perhaps it was because she was older or because she had the cutest little girl, but you knew he felt safe with her as he always had a few admiring words to say about her when the two of you were hanging out together.
“Got a hug left for me?” you asked him as he removed himself from his girlfriend’s embrace and smiled. His smile was like a sudden beam of sunlight illuminating the darkest corners of the room. His tears were still to be found in his eyes, one slipping and slowly rolling down his cheek, and it took you all your willpower not to gently wipe it away. But you couldn’t. You shouldn’t.
“Always,” he answered and threw his arms around you, squeezing you, as if he hadn’t seen you in over a decade. You had your arms around his neck and covered your face in its nook. You were engulfed by the smell of sweat that was surrounding every part of him. Even though it wasn’t the most pleasant scent you have ever smelled, you found it extremely hot.
“You did it,” you whispered as you had loosened your arms around him, expecting him to do the same thing. However, you could still feel his arms around the middle of your back and realised how close you actually were.
“I did it,” Max whispered back. The sounds and cheers of the people surrounding you became mere echoes as you stared directly into his eyes. His pupils were dilated and covering his perfect blue eyes for the most part. You parted your lips as it started to become difficult to breath.
Oh my god. You wanted it so bad. You wanted him so bad. You had the urge to bulge your eyes out and pull your hair just to release the frustration that was building inside of you. All you wanted was to lock the two of you in a closet, grab the material of his suit and close any inch between you to feel his plump lips against yours.
And then seconds later you were reminded that you were in a paddock full of people, he won his first championship, his father and girlfriend were literally staring at you, and you were just the friend. Not Kelly Piquet. No, you, Y/N.
“You have a trophy to receive,” you whispered as you tried to wring yourself out of Max’s embrace. You had to get yourself out of this situation before your heart gets broken even further. It wasn’t the time to dwell on the circumstances of the position you held in Max Verstappen’s life. He just became the world champion. Something he worked so hard for, and you couldn’t let the late-night talks, the encouraging words, and a secret glance or two go to waste because you felt sad you weren’t more than just a friend.
“I’ll leave you some champagne,” he said as he let go of you definitively.
“Go get them champ!” you yelled at him as he was making his way towards the entrance of the area to get to the podium. He looked over one last time and winked as he disappeared in the crowd.
“You made it count,” you said softly as you turned around and invoked a smile on your face as you tried to celebrate with the others. You should be happy. Extremely happy, but somehow you weren’t, and it made you feel worse.
Max Verstappen has become the world champion and you were desperately in love with him.
