F1 Stories

Runawayolives’ 2nd blog

[runawayolives2]

So, I’ve updated myself on the latest F1 news, and I have to say, I’m very disappointed in Max.

I know people have different opinions on the matter, but I’ve come to my decision, which is that I don’t think I’m comfortable writing more stuff for him.

I try to be an ally as much as I can, and I like to think I’ve improved since I decided to educate myself on the matter, and not just say I’m against racism. On my “journey”, one of the hardest things for me was to speak up whenever a friend or family member would say something that was not okay concerning race.

I believe that me still writing for Max Verstappen, is like not speaking up whenever I heard something racist said by my friends and/or family. I know writing more for him is going to be a step back for me, and I don’t want to lose my progress just because I find a guy attractive.

I don’t care what you think.

I’ve read posts of people saying that Max doesn’t own anyone an explanation, or a post saying that he’s against of what Piquet said, but I don’t see it like that. Other people say he’s in a tough situation, and I don’t think that’s a reason good enough. If you’re against racism, you’re against racism, simple as that. And he has proven that he isn’t against it, and I won’t excuse his behavior.

I hope you understand my choice, and don’t start a debate in the comments. If you do, which I hope you don’t, I will block you.

[runawayolives2]

Today Verstappen was interviewed, and asked on the topic of not only Nelson Piquet, but also Yuri Vips.

https://youtu.be/PTX3R-xi7Zs

This is what he had to say.

I don’t know what to think. On one hand we have what he just said in the interview, and I respect and take his word on it. But on the other hand, Max has chosen to have relationships with people that justify and condone racism.

I’ll have to think it through, whether I want to proceed creating content about Verstappen or not.

I wasn’t allowed to reply to people’s comments on my post, Tumblr was acting up again, but I have to say, thank you to @sraholland , for making me aware about Ricciardo’s past behavior, and @natelovesyg for notifying about the interview.

[creativepromptsforwriting]

Shout-out to multilingual writers who are writing in their second (or third and so on) language.

The frustration of speaking it fluently, but still having to google basic words when you're writing.

The absolute joy of finding a word that sounds just perfect and conveys exactly what you mean.

Doubting all your grammar and being afraid to post it or even send it to a beta reader.

The euphoria of someone calling your use of this language, that is not your mother tongue, beautiful.

[ef-1]

Everyone: Nelson Piquet used racial slurs.

The Piquet family defending Nelson:

[artemispt]

Just saw Nelson Piquet’s video. Disgusting… Unfortunately, every race weekend I have to hear things like that. My father doesn’t says Lewis name, he always says “preto” (black). Every time it pisses me of. It doesn’t matter what I say, he keeps doing it. Every. Fucking. Race week.

Another thing: Lewis doesn’t deserve respect because he’s a 7 time world champion and an “incredible ambassador for our sport”. He deserves respect because he is a human being.

[spaceshipsandpurpledrank]

[ursuladeville-deactivated202406]

I’m so happy to see Black people parenting differently from their own upbringing. Why subject your child(ren) to the trauma you endured and hated from your parents? I’m especially happy where little Black girls are concerned. When young, we were labeled “sassy”, we needed an “attitude” adjustment, ‘we thought we were grown’ and blah blah all because no one told us how to express ourselves. And even if we did know how, we were told to hold our tongues out of respect. And if we were allowed to speak, our feelings were immediately invalidated because the adults taking care of us had problems worse than ours and we didn’t pay bills.

Some of the kids are alright.

[audrey-hepbae]

My little cousin was just diagnosed with ADHD and the doctor said in girls, anger is a symptom. Made me wonder how many Black girls were labeled with “bad attitude” when in reality they couldn’t focus on the task and just pissed at the adult in their face demanding and threatening them over something outside of their control

[runawayolives2]

Runaway Olives' masterlist

My original Tumblr account is shadowbanned, so I've made this one while the other one is frozen.

This is the masterlist of my other account, in case you want to read something in it and couldn't find it.

Runawayolives' masterlist

[runawayolives2]

Runaway Olives' masterlist

My original Tumblr account is shadowbanned, so I've made this one while the other one is frozen.

This is the masterlist of my other account, in case you want to read something in it and couldn't find it.

Runawayolives' masterlist

[runawayolives2]

Drunk text me

Request: hii can i request a max fic inspired by the song drunk text me? you can decide if it ends angsty or fluffy! thank youuu :)

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader | Charles Leclerc x Reader (platonic) | Pierre Gasly x reader (platonic) | Daniel Ricciardo x reader (platonic)

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, cheating. Max cheats on the reader with Kelly, no shame to her, it was just for the plot. Cursing. Please tell me if I have missed anything.

Word Count: 3.3k

Masterlist

Considering you were in your 20s, “the best time of your life”, you were disappointed. Instead of going to one of the famous clubs that your friends liked to go to on Friday nights, you were in your dorm room, your phone face up, waiting for some kind of text. Better said, a particular text. It was sad to think about how you were taking the opportunity of him being drunk because maybe he would text you. You were waiting for some badly spelled text, that somehow begged for you to take him back, to forgive him for what he had done. 

You met the F1 star in an interesting way. You lived in Italy, this was your third year. You had been accepted into a university in Rome, on full scholarship, so you took the opportunity, and you found yourself living in Rome, as a college student that barely got by with Italian. The good thing was that the University put you in the same room as a native girl, María, who was nice and patient enough to teach you the new language. it didn’t take you long to speak Italian, fluently, thanks to your friend. María was actually the one responsible for you meeting Max. She had dragged you to an F1 race, insisting that you would like it and that the racers were bellissimo. You went with semi-interest, but María had gotten tickets thanks to her dad, who had some contacts and pulled some strings for the two of you to go. You got good seats, and even if you hadn’t been the biggest fan of fast cars, you had to admit it was captivating, to see the vehicles going at crazy speeds. María, thanks to the combination of some membership pass and her dad, had managed to be invited to an after-party organized by Red Bull. Surprisingly, you were interested in going. Classes had been a true pain the whole month, and you were nervous about a presentation you had to do two days ago, so free booze was a good way to get your mind off things. 

Two Red Bull racers had gotten Podium positions, so the party was very lively. You couldn’t help but wonder how uncomfortable the vent would’ve been if they hadn’t won, and you kept pondering on that while María was talking to some guy she knew from events like this. Your friend had made you promise that you wouldn’t think about school and loosen up a little. Once you finished your drink, you went to the bar and get another one. While waiting, making sure your eyes never left the waiter making your drink, a  taller figure stood behind you.

“Hello! Have we met?” You turned around, finding a fairly attractive guy. The bartender set you the drink, and you thanked him. You looked again at the guy, confused by his sudden interruption of your mindless thoughts.

“I don’t think so.” 

“I’m Charles.” He had an interesting accent, one you couldn’t pinpoint, but you could tell he wasn’t a native English speaker. You weren’t surprised about that. Everyone in Europe had a second language, at least, and English was the most common one to have.

“Y/N.” Charles took the seat beside you, signaling the bartender to come back for another drink.

“Are you related to any of the racers?”

“No, I’m here with a friend, she had passed.” Charles nodded and told the man what drink he wanted.

“Cool. You don’t sound Italian.”

“No, I’m here for college.” He gave you an impressed look.

“Wow, what are you studying?” You told him about your classes, and how you got the scholarship. After some time of him avoiding your questions about his job, another man came to the pair of you. 

“Charles, what is taking you so long?” This man you did recognize, no introduction needed. Max Verstappen had just approached you, and referred to your conversation companion by his first name, meaning they knew each other. Verstappen, once he noticed you, didn’t shift his gaze from your face. “Max Verstappen.” He introduced himself in a cocky way, that normally would’ve been a turn-off for you, but you already had some drinks in you, so you let it pass.

“Max, this is my friend, Y/N.” You looked at Charles surprised, not expecting him to refer to you as his friend. “She’s really cool.” You waved at Max and gave him a smile. 

“Nice to meet you.” You shook hands, and that for a second threw you off, used to kiss people as a hello. “What did you think of the race? Charles, at some point, left to be with the rest of the group he came with. You and Max spoke until maría came to get you, saying that some annoying guy was not getting the signals. You excused yourself from Max and left with your friend. Once outside, María asked for every detail, after she said she had seen you also with Charles Leclerc. 

Once back in your dorm, when María was already knocked out cold, your phone lit up.

Thinking back, it was weird to see how everything has changed. You were now in your fourth year in university and were crying for the one and only Max Verstappen. You weren’t crying right now, you were too drained, but it was what you were doing for the last week. After the night at the party, and his texts, you had met up several times, becoming closer, until you asked him out on a date date, as you had phrased it. 

It had been a great year, you and Max both putting a lot of effort into the relationship, considering you were busy studying, and he was racing all over the glove. it had worked very well, so far. Whenever he was free and you had school, he would come to Italy and spend time with you whenever you were free. If you both had a vacation, he would fly you to Monaco, where he lived during the off-season. Being long-distance was good for the two of you. You could focus on your career, and he could focus on his and would have time to text and videocall at certain hours. 

María had left to spend the night with her partner, who she had met during a college party in someone’s big ass house. They were cute together, and you couldn’t be more grateful for Cameron, considering they were the reason you were alone in your room. 

Your breakup had been nasty, to say the least. During the Brazilin Grand Prix, some interesting pictures had been trending on Twitter and Instagram. You had met Kelly Piquet before, and you had never thought what happened was going to happen. When the first pictures of them showed up, you dismissed them after seeing them, not thinking anything of them at a party in Brazil. She was almost ten years his senior, a mother, and the ex of another F1 driver. Why would you suspect anything from it? The first round of pictures of them together, you ignored, the second one was impossible to. 

The pictures were a total of five, and it seemed as if they went in order. The first one was them together, facing the camera. Innocent, a picture of two friends. The second one that went viral, was of them in the background, talking to each other. Innocent, a picture of two friends. The third, was of Max’s arm going around her waist. Innocent? Fourth, her arms around his neck. Fifth, the two of them in what seemed like a heavy makeout session. Once you saw this one, you started calling Max, wanting some sort of explanation. Maybe they were photoshopped, or of two people that looked a lot like them. Maybe maybe maybe. These were your thoughts that Sunday morning, ready to defend him once he explained himself. During Sunday lunch with your friends, no one brought Max up, unusual, considering that after his races, he would somehow be mentioned. You could tell they knew, you knew they knew. But you had good friends, who were able to read the room and know that now wasn’t the moment. 

You had called Max a total of fifteen times and decided to let him call you, knowing that maybe you seemed hysterical. You were being hysterical, because they were fake, 100%. Right?

You never got a call from Max that Sunday. Your dd did, and that one was enlightening.

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know, dad.”

“What have I always told you?”

“Education and career go first, boys second.” You didn’t have a perfect relationship with your dad, not many people did. But he had been very firm about this topic. Your dad knew the importance of your career and was very proud of every scholarship, and academic win you had. He didn’t tell you this, but your mom would text you to tell you. He was very proud once you told him about your relationship dynamic with Max. He was proud you hadn’t dropped everything you had worked for for a race car driver that could promise you the world. And looking back, you had made a splendid choice. 

“I know it hurts right now, but this just means he wasn’t the one. Stay strong honey, you can do this.” The conversation ended soon after, and it left you looking out the window of your dorm. 

Charles Daniel and Pierre had texted you, but you didn’t feel like reading what they had to say, whatever they had to say. You just wanted Max to tell you it was all a confusion, some hateful fan that wanted to hurt you. But him taking so long had started to be suspicious, and at the end of that Sunday, you decided to not think too much into it, maybe it was meant to be.

Tuesday morning, while you were completing some assignments during your free period, you got a call. Not from who you now thought of as your ex, but his best friend. 

“Daniel.” 

“Y/N.”

“What’s up?” You wanted to act nonchalant as if you hadn’t cried whenever you weren’t drowning in work and coffee. 

“I know you’ve seen the pictures.” You looked into your document, focusing on the small letters that just looked like squiggly lines if you concentrated enough.

“I have.” 

“Have you spoken to Max?”

“I haven’t.” You heard him sigh on the other side, but couldn’t say if he was doing it for you or him. 

“How’re you doing? How’re you feeling?”

“Well, I was sad at the beginning. Now I’m just humiliated and angry, weirdly, I feel empty.” You played with the thread of your sweater. “Everyone has seen those pictures, and I’m now the latest gossip on campus. It’s been a week and they’re still talking about my boyfriend making out with a Brazilian model ten years his senior. I’m angry because he hasn’t contacted me at all, and has ignored my calls. At least he could face me, tell me the truth, give me closure and let me move on.” You could feel the hot angry tears well up in your eyes. “I want him to call me, tell me he never loved me, so that I can forget him and everything related to him.” 

“Charles has been worried about you, me, and Pierre too.” You had developed a very close friendship with the trio. You had different relationships with each, but they were all close nonetheless. 

“I want him to make me forget him. I want to never feel related to anything F1, ever again.” Daniel’s breath hitched.

“I understand how you feel, but how can you do this radical cut?” 

“You do not understand how I feel. You will never understand how I feel. And losing this relationship won’t be a loss.” 

“You don’t mean that.”

“I’m pretty sure I am.” 

“What about Charles, Pierre, and I?”

“Did you tell me anything when you suspected something from Max?” 

“Y/N.” You could tell he was close to crying, but you couldn’t care less, considering you could feel your tears rolling down your cheeks. 

“Did you?”

“We didn’t want to interfere with your relationship.”

“Then I guess I cannot keep up this friendship. You choose sides, Daniel, even if you now think he’s the asshole or whatever, you choose sides the moment you ignored the first sign.” 

“Y/N.”

“Leave me alone.” You hung up after finishing your sentence, soon feeling bad, thinking you had been a bit overboard.

Soon, Charles’ contact came up on your screen, and you accepted it. Charles was on the phone with you for a total of an hour and a half, listening to you, while trying not to cry himself. He had to wipe his tears away several times, not understanding how a heart could break this way. While hearing you, the Monaguesque had plotted the Red Bull driver’s death at least ten times, slowly hating him more and more as the call progressed. 

When the pictures had first reached the internet, once the trio knew, they went to get an explanation from Max. The Dutchman, who had just woken up to an empty bed (that was not how it was when he went to sleep), was slowly coming to terms with what had happened. He initially put the blame on the person taking the pictures, saying it was a violation of his privacy and that he was going to sue. Pierre was about to rip his hair out when he heard that from their friend. Max, after seeing that his friends still expected accountability for him, decided to inform them that he had never loved you, that you were just easy and quick entertainment. 

The three of them caught the lie very early on, knowing that the times he had come to the hotel, eyes shining and a dumb smile on his features weren’t a sign of lack of love. But Max was max, and if he wanted to take that route, then so be it. Charles and Daniel were already leaving the room, shoulders tense and trying to contain their anger. Pierre decided to have the last word.

“If she cuts ties with us because of your dumb mistake. I will never forgive you.” The blond slammed the door, and once outside, looked at his two other friends. “How could he say that? He always had a reserved seat for her, whenever she could come to the races. He wouldn’t stop smiling at his phone whenever they texted. He canceled plans with us because maybe she was free and they could video call. How could he say that shit?” Daniel looked forward, back towards their friend’s door.

“He’ll see his mistake, but I believe it will be too late.” 

Charles, even if he hadn’t told the Dutchman when Pierre had, had come to the same terms. If you were going to stop spending time with them because of Max, they would cut ties with him, so that you didn’t associate them with him. At the end of the call, you had fallen asleep, drained from crying so hard, and Charles hung up from the unresponsive line after a long and loud sigh. 

Pierre called you the next day and came to terms with the fact that the relationship was over, you were done with Max Verstappen. But he could tell that your words were somewhat empty. Pierre knew that if Max called you, told you that he was sorry, got on his knees, and begged for you to forgive him, you would give him a second chance. But Verstappen didn’t kneel for anyone, probably not even the woman that had made him a better person during the span of a year and a few months. Pierre also knew Max wasn’t happy with his choice. He wanted you back, the Frenchman could and would swear on it. 

Max felt shitty. Max Verstappen, felt like utter shit. Max Emilian Verstappen felt like the shitiest person in the world. During the time since the pictures had become public to the world, he had cried, had anger outbursts, and punched more than one wall. He knew, that if Y/N could see her, she wouldn’t have been amused. She would be beside him, hugging him, telling him that he could talk to her about anything and that she would sit and listen unless he specifically told her he wanted advice or something of the sort. Max Emilian Verstappen felt deeply flawed, he felt as if he had destroyed the only thing that made him happy. Y/N had been understanding, patient, reasonable, and empathic, many other things he needed in his life. She had been a form of stability, someone he knew he could count on, at any moment. Any time he was angry about a race, or some incident with Christian Horner, and his dad, she was always there and knew how to calm him down. Y/N knew whether he needed space, silent company, hugs, a silent bath, or any other thing to help him relax. And he blew it.

Max Emilian Verstappen destroyed the only relationship that had made him feel whole. And he did it on his own. For some time, he tried to blame Y/N, and find a way to justify his actions. But whenever he came with something, he knew it was far-fetched and unfair to her, and to him, once he realized he was only lying to himself. He then tried to blame Kelly, for tempting him to be in a relationship with her, but at the end of the day, he was the one in a relationship, not her. 

Max Emilian Verstappen had spent any free moment, drunk of his ass. Trying to forget the massive mistake he had done. Of course, it wasn’t that easy. Once he could feel the tell-tale signs of drunkness, he could only think of you. If he focused enough, he could hear your voice and feel your touch. If he focused enough, he could ignore he destroyed your heart and keep living in the fantasy where you were waiting for him back in Italy, with crazy stories about some of your professors that had lost their minds during their time working at the University. 

Daniel, knowing this was the new hobby Max had started, was perfectly aware of where his friend was. It was hard for Daniel. Pierre and Charles had clearly chosen sides, but it was easier for them. Their relationship with Max wasn’t as close as with you. They hadn’t been Max’s teammates, they hadn’t seen Max grow into the person he was now since the beginning. It was easier for them to choose sides because he was the asshole, you were the victim, and you were just as close to them as Max was. Daniel didn’t have the same easy choice. But whenever he had to go down to the bar in the hotel, after being called by whoever was downstairs, Daniel knew he had to stay near Max, seeing him so drunk he wasn’t able to form coherent sentences, even open his eyes, made Daniel realize that even if max had destroyed your relationship, him not having you was punishment enough. 

“Let’s go, Max, time for bed.” The younger man had his phone on, a chat lighting up the screen. 

You did get the drunk message you wanted, but it was too late. Once it reached your screen, you knew it was too late, that he had taken too long.

 He had made his bed, and now he had to lay in it.

AN: This was a long one, but I'm proud of how it turned out. If anyone has any requests for Verstappen, Ricciardo, Leclerc, or Gasly, feel free to send them to my inbox, and I'll try my best.