ENTP| 24 | She/her | Proud Swiftie I’m a little nerdie, so don’t mind me writing here I’m just emptying my mind. F1 | TGM | Sherlock |Good Omens | Star Wars | MCU | HP | DR WHO
Pairings: Max Verstappen x Established!Partner!Reader, Max&Reader + Kimi Antonelli (platonic as the couple’s son)
Notes: this is an extremely short one due to the spice that was in the Canadian sprint race and I wanted some comforting words for Kimi. also the comparison I keep seeing of Kimi having young Max’s bark but ppl say he doesn’t have Max’s bite and it’s pissing me off bc he’s a teenager and still somewhat new and he’s still learning so let him live, people. **NO HATE TO ANY DRIVER**
Word Count: 715
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The paddock still buzzed with leftover tension from the sprint. Not the usual adrenaline, not celebration, it was a haze of tension. The kind that clung to the air long after the cars had stopped.
Max found you first. He always did. He walked into the hospitality with that look he got on days when the car wasn’t terrible but also wasn’t what he wanted. Acceptance mixed with irritation, a quiet resignation in the set of his jaw.
“Seventh,” he muttered, dropping into the seat beside you. “No battles. Nothing to do. Just… driving.”
You brushed your hand through his hair, smoothing the strands that had been flattened by his cap. “You still did well,” you said softly. “And you didn’t have to fight anyone trying to send you into the wall today.”
He snorted. “Unlike some people.”
As if summoned by the words, Kimi appeared in the doorway.
He looked like a storm cloud in a race suit, jaw tight, eyes sharp, shoulders stiff. The late lunge on George had been bold, maybe too bold, but George holding the racing line into the apex had left Kimi nowhere to go. He’d been pushed wide onto the grass, furious, and then somehow finished third because Norris slipped through the chaos.
The interviews afterward had been a mess. Kimi trying to stay composed. George trying to explain but putting passive aggressive insinuations in it. Reporters stirring the pot, looking for the next teammate rivalry. Max had been in his own world, answering questions about the car and shrugging off the sprint like it barely mattered.
Kimi hadn’t liked that post-sprint race interview.
You could see it in the way he hovered now, unsure if he should come in or walk away.
“Hey,” you called gently. “Come here.”
He stepped inside, eyes flicking between you and Max. “I didn’t mean to, I wasn’t trying to hit him,” he said, voice tight. “I saw the gap. I went for it. He didn’t leave space.”
“And like the great Alonso said, ‘All the time you have the leave the space,’” you murmur, unable to help it.
Max leaned back, studying him with a calmness that only made Kimi more agitated.
“You went for a late lunge,” Max said. “He held the line. He spouts absolute rubbish afterwards, it happens. That is George Russell for you.”
“That’s it?” Kimi snapped. “You’re not going to say anything else?”
Max blinked, surprised. “What do you want me to say?”
Kimi’s frustration cracked. “I wanted you to say I wasn’t stupid.”
You moved before Max could answer, pulling Kimi gently toward you. “You weren’t stupid,” you said, voice warm and steady. “You were brave. You saw a chance. You tried. And you still finished on the podium.”
Kimi’s breath hitched, just barely.
Max stood, stepping closer, his expression softening as he finally understood what the kid needed.
“You remind me of younger me,” Max said quietly. “The way you go for things. The way you get frustrated when it doesn’t work. The way you hate feeling misunderstood.”
You smiled, nudging Max’s arm. “Our son is literally just like you.”
Kimi’s ears went pink. “I’m not— I’m not your son.”
Max slung an arm around his shoulders anyway. “Too late. We adopted you. No paperwork needed, this drama proves your genes hold strong.”
Kimi tried to glare, but it melted almost instantly. “I just… wanted to do better.”
“You did,” Max said. “And next time, you’ll do even better. But today? You were great. Even if the drama made you want to throw your helmet or pasta at George. Honestly, don’t know what’s worse in your eyes.”
Kimi groaned. “I wouldn’t throw it. Especially not perfectly good pasta.”
“You probably thought about it though,” you teased.
He didn’t deny it.
Max squeezed his shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go eat. You need something warm. And you need to stop thinking about George for at least an hour.”
Kimi finally cracked a real smile. “Okay.”
And as the three of you walked out together, Max’s hand found yours, fingers lacing with a quiet certainty. His other arm stayed around Kimi, keeping the kid close.
A little family, stitched together by racing, chaos, and the way you all held each other up when the world got loud.
summary reader has a little too much to drink while celebrating oscar’s win in miami leaving oscar to take care of her after a night of partying where she, unknowingly, confesses her love for him.
warnings alcohol, intoxication, one use of “y/n”, friends to lovers, reader is a stage 5 clinger, oscar’s a lover boy, casual intimacy
a/n was clingy and decided to write - this was the result! not proofread at all but i hope you guys enjoy!! love you all!! i wrote this last year btw 😭
the club lights blind you, making it difficult for you to work your way through the club. you were supposed to be partying with oscar after his miami win, but somewhere between hour 2 and 3 of clubbing, you’ve lost him. worse than that - you’ve lost everyone you were with.
with weak knees you make your way through the club, hazy eyes scanning for the aussie or literally anyone you know. the dark corners of your mind start to take over as you begin to panic. your phone is dead, portable charger in oscar’s pocket. but you’re all alone in the middle of a bright club, surrounded by drunk people and none of them look familiar.
“y/n?” a british accent calls from behind you and you can almost cry in relief. turning around, you’re met with the sight of lando’s confused face, not understanding why you’re alone in a crowd of people.
“have you seen os?” you slur out, interrupted by a couple of hiccups. lando places a hand on your shoulder, pulling your upper body towards him. he gives you a soft smile as you look around helplessly.
“come on, let’s go find him and get you home,” he starts, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. he pulls you along, walking towards booths that line one of the walls.
when you notice the aussie sitting in one of the booths, you wrestle yourself free of lando’s grasp, speed walking to the man surrounded by drivers. before you know it, you’re climbing into his lap, head in the crook of his neck.
“hey sweet girl,” he says cautiously, wrapping one of his arms around your waist. “everything okay?”
“want you. want to go home,” you mumble into his neck, inhaling his scent. you feel him tense slightly under you. his free hand comes up to grab the back of your neck to pull your face out to where he can look at you.
"how much did you drink?" he asks, eyes soft as he takes your appearance in. he lightly pulls the back of your dress down, trying to keep you from flashing anyone.
"not too many," you mumble, looking away. he uses his finger to bring your attention back to him. his brows are raised as he looks into your dilated eyes.
"you wanna go home? back to the hotel?" he asks, brushing hair off your forehead. you nod, forcing your face back into his neck, just wanting to be as close as possible to him. he chuckles lightly, patting your back.
"i just want you," you slur into his ear causing him to shiver under you. his right hand grips your hip, thumb moving along the bone. he takes a shaky breath.
"okay darling, i need you to move so i can get up," oscar says, gently removing your from his neck. you whine, the loss of his warm neck offending you. he chuckles lightly, the hand that’s holding the back of your neck holds you up, preventing you from going back to his neck. his thumb is slowly moving up and down the column of your neck.
“don’t wanna leave you. just want you,” you whine, trying to force yourself back to his chest. he smiles lightly, titling his head.
“baby, let me get up and then we can go to the hotel. you don’t have to leave my side if you don’t want to, but you need to let me get up,” oscar’s voice is gentle, as though he’s talking to a child and not a grown woman. you hesitantly nod, beginning to slide backwards off his lap. he lets out a soft groan at the feeling, already missing you against him.
his hand lands protectively on the small of your back, holding your dress down from sliding up as you make your way to the exit. you’re stumbling over yourself, unable to stand completely. oscar has to basically hold you up on the walk to the car.
“your heels hurting you, baby?” he asks, opening the passenger door for you. you make a little noise, barely audible, nodding. he smiles softly at you, picking your feet up and putting them in the footwell of his car. he carefully undoes the buckles of your heels, letting your feet rest. you let out a content sigh, pulling your feet up into the seat and curling in to a ball.
oscar gently shuts the door, making his way to the drivers side. he hadn’t drank much - a beer and a half and had almost completely sobered up the moment you climbed into his lap. when he slides into the drivers seat, your body instinctively curls towards him, like it’s trying to seek him out despite the console between the two of you.
he gently chuckles, reaching across. his hand cups your face, thumb rubbing up and down your jaw slowly. you make a little noise, eyes closing in contentment.
“hungry? or straight to the hotel?” he asks, lifting your chin so his eyes can meet yours. your eyes a little glossy, dazed over.
“hungry,” you whisper, eyes lighting up ever so slightly. he grins, letting your face drop from his hand. he starts up the car, the rumble of the mclaren under you makes you giggle. he just gently smiles over at you, eyes full of awe.
“what do you want? mcdonald’s, taco bell?” he starts naming places off as he slides the car into reverse. his arm comes to rest around the back of your seat as he looks out the back window.
“taco bell,” you mumble, fiddling with your nails, one on the verge of popping off. oscar nods and gently reaches over the stop your hand from destroying your nails. his hand laced with yours, the feeling grounding you.
“you want a baja blast?” he asks, already knowing your answer. he glances at you, finding you staring at your hand that is intertwined with his. “sweet girl?”
“mhm, baja blast please. oh! and three of those cheesy stick things,” you murmur, glassy eyes a little brighter. he chuckles, nodding as he pulls into the drive thru. he quickly orders and gets the food, starting back to the hotel.
“eat your cheese sticks hun,” he says, gesturing to the bag, which to your surprise has landed in your hands without you realizing. you stare at it for a moment, trying to remember how it got there. after a couple of moments you reach into the bag, pulling one out and gently unwrapping it. oscar watches out of the corner of his eye as you nibble on the cheese stick, eyes still hazy and lost.
“you okay?” oscar asks, watching your slow movements as he pulls into the parking lot of the hotel. you don’t answer, you just stare at the glovebox as you continue to nibble on the cheese stick. he parks the car, turning to you. “pretty?”
“‘m okay,” you mumble, still staring and not really paying attention. your brain has almost shut off after the drinks mixed with the fact that you’re with the person that you love and really want.
"lets go in, yeah?" his voice is so gentle and soft - warm. you nod, letting him take the cheese stick from your hands to wrap back up, slipping it into the bag. he shuts off the car and slides out, gently shutting his door before making his way to the passenger side. he chuckles as you reach up towards him, asking to be carried inside.
"hold your drink and food, sweet girl," he instructs before bending to slide one of his arms under you knees and the other just behind your lower back. you giggle as he gently lifts you, avoiding hitting your head on the car.
oscar carries you through the lobby, not caring about the looks he gets from people - only caring about the girl in his arms. you nuzzle your face against his chest, breathing him in. there’s still a tiny hint of champagne that you can smell, a reminder of his win and accomplishment. you sigh continently, melting into him.
“you okay sweet girl?” he asks, glancing down at you as he enters the elevator. you nod sleepily, fingers loosening their grip on the bag of food. he chuckles lightly at you as he gently tilts you towards the door to hit his floor number.
he somehow gets you to his room, having to ask someone to help open the door since he didn't want to set you down on the hotel floor. he moves through the room, gently setting you on the bed and taking the drink and food away from you. he smiles softly, taking in the vulnerability of the moment and the pure trust you have in him.
"os?" you murmur, reaching for him. he moves closer to you, crouching down to meet your tired eyes.
"yes sweet girl?" he asks, his hand pushing hair off your cheek, a smile of comfort and content spreading across your face.
"want out of this dress," you mumble, reaching for him. he chuckles, a light blush settling on his cheeks.
“you want my help?” he asks, knuckles brushing across your cheekbone. you nod, pushing your face closer to his hand. he lets out a little sigh of content, pushing himself to stand up. he grabs a t-shirt of his, making his way to unzip the back of your dress. he pulls the small straps off your shoulders, pulling the t-shirt over top of your head before pushing the dress down the rest of your body, careful to not accidentally reveal you to him.
a soft sigh leaves your body as the dress is pulled all the way off and you’re left in a t-shirt and underwear. he looks away as you shift, pulling the blanket around yourself and snuggling up into the pillows before you look up at him.
“os,” you whisper, as though you’ll wake people in the rooms around you. he looks at you, an eyebrow raised. “i love you.” he blinks, a little confused by the sudden statement.
“i love you too,” he says, softly as he goes to stand. he starts to make his way across the room to change before you call out to him again.
“osc, i love love you,” you whisper, its a desperate confession, one that you’ve swallowed down for months since you’d realized. his heart races as he looks at the beautiful and slightly disheveled angel in his hotel bed. his wide eyes make you second guess if he felt the same way but before you know it, he’s crossing the room in quick strides and sitting in front of you.
“baby, you’re drunk,” he says, hands cupping your face. you shake your head and swallow hard.
"but i love you. i love you so much os. i don't want to pretend anymore. i just want you," you slur out, your voice getting weaker with each word. his eyes are soft and warm, you could lay here staring into them forever. slowly, he starts leaning towards you.
you push yourself up, connecting your lips to his as he lets out a soft groan at the feeling. you pull him closer towards you, like you're tying to merge your bodies together. you just want him, nothing else in the world. all you know, all you see, is him. the world around you is long forgotten as you feel his body on top of yours, holding you so close. all you know is peace and love in his arms.
"i love you too, so much," he mumbles out between kisses. eventually, he pulls away, leaving you to whine at him. he chuckles, placing a soft kiss to your forehead. "let me change, baby." he moves quick throughout the room, discarding the clothes worn to the club and replacing his pants with a pair of sweats before crawling into the bed beside you.
the warmth of his body close to you makes you curl up into him. you breathe him in, looking up at him.
"can i be yours?" you whisper out, venerability lacing your voice. he chuckles lightly, placing a soft kiss to your forehead.
"yes, you're mine. mine forever," he whispers back, pulling you into him as the two of you curl up together, forgetting the rest of the world and feeling yourselves drift off, entangled in the sheets of the hotel bed.
Plot: 3.4k - Max has a very sleepy girlfriend, slowly Twitch gets to see them together in multiple little scenes.
Tags: Max Verstappen x very sleepy & migraine plagued (teacher) reader, very fluffy
Warnings: Use of feminine pronouns; physical intimacy (sfw)
Note: Please let me know how you like 'chat' in this fic! I'm scared I might have added them too much haha!
Max’s eyes locked on the apex, his grip tight on the wheel as the car screamed through the flat-out left-hander. The vibrations rattled through his hands, every nerve firing.
“Inside line... inside line...” he muttered under his breath, barely audible.
He glanced at the timing; two-tenths up. “Don’t mess this up, Max.”
The world around his focus tunnel was blurry, aside from consciously listening to his Redline Teammates. every now and then.
Chat was a blur of lap-time spam and back seat driving.
They couldn’t hear it clearly, soft but unmistakable, was a click of the front door. Max didn’t glance over, but the faint thump of shoes being kicked off on the hallway mat bled through the otherwise silent apartment.
A slow, groggy “Heeey…” floated in. And instantly, the driver smiled. “Hi, liefje,” Max said, tone effortlessly warm even as he was trying not to crash in-game.
The chat barely reacted at first, until the words really sank in.
what’s a liefje??
DID HE JUST CALL SOMEONE BABE IN DUTCH??
whose voice was that omg
Something else was mumbled from somewhere in the room, but too quiet to make out for chat.
Max didn’t answer until the next straight. He reached behind his chair, grabbed the folded blanket slung over the backrest, and tossed it toward the couch.
The camera didn’t catch her, only the sound of fabric hitting cushions, the soft rustle of her curling up, and a tiny, content sigh.
HELLO??? WHO TF JUST WALKED INTO HIS HOUSE
blanket toss mid race?? Damn
Max’s mouth twitched into a small smile. “Don’t fall asleep before the end, want to show you something,” he said over his shoulder, voice pitched lower than usual.
Aside from a soft ‘Mhmm’, no answer came.
Ten laps later, after finishing the race, Max relaxed in his seat, pushing the headset off his ear on one side. The guys in the call were already laughing in his ear. “So, uhm… Max? Anything you wanna tell us?” He blinked, feigning innocence. “About what?”
“About who just wandered in mid-race.”
Max leaned back in his seat, taking a sip from his water bottle like he had all the time in the world. “Oh, yeah. That was my girlfriend.”
For half a second, there was silence. Then chat detonated.
GIRLFRIEND???
MAX HAS A GF??? SINCE WHEN??
The Redline guys were cackling. “Mate, you just drop that in like it’s nothing?”
Max only smirked, glancing toward the couch, voice dipping softer. “She’s a teacher. Had parents’ evening tonight, so she’s wrecked. Pretty sure she’s already asleep.”
A soft ‘nuh-uh’ was heard from the direction of the couch. The camera caught just a sliver of her when Max tilted it over a bit, a blanket draped over her, the curve of someone curled into the couch. Still no face.
Max twists in his chair, eyes wide open in suprise. “Hey,” he said softly. “You want some tea or just… sleep?”
From under the blanket came a muffled, “Sleep. Forever.”
He chuckled. “Long night?”
A groan, then: “Do you know how many parents told me today that English isn’t important anymore? Like, apparently spelling doesn’t matter because ‘we have autocorrect.’ Or, get this, they say their kid doesn’t like reading so I should just… not make them do it?” She yawned mid-sentence. “Max, I swear, some of them are worse than the kids.”
Max’s smile turned helpless. He leaned an elbow on the armrest, just watching her. “Yeah?” he murmured, like every word she said was gold.
bro’s in love
this is DISGUSTING i want what they have
“Go to sleep, liefje,” he said eventually, still grinning. “I’ll be done soon.”
“Mm.” She was already halfway gone again.
Max reached over without thinking, adjusting the edge of the blanket so it covered her shoulder completely, tucking it underneath her chin. “Sleep well,” he murmured, almost too low for the mic to catch.
Then he turned back to his screen, shaking his head with a smile on his face.
It was barely past nine in the morning on the first day of summer break, when a Redline stream was up and running. Max’s headset was snug, wheel centered and he looked freshly showered, hair still wet in some spots. Chat was still waking up too, their greetings a mix of sleepy emojis and half-hearted banter.
“Morning,” he said into the mic, sipping his coffee. “Early start today. I’m more awake than some of you, I think.”
He was mid-qualifying lap when the soft shuffle of bare feet came from the hallway. His eyes flicked toward the camera for half a second, subtly thinking of what could be seen from this angle, which was second nature by now, before answering one of his teammates questions.
“Max…” came a hoarse, gravelly voice, still warm from sleep.
“Mhm?” he hummed, braking into a chicane.
“…there’s no coffee.” She stood in the doorway like she’d walked straight out of bed (which was probably the case), hair messy, one sleeve of her (Max’s) oversized T-shirt slipping off her shoulder, and the blanket still trailing behind her like a cape.
She spotted the half-full mug in his hand and gasped in mock outrage. “Hey!”
Chat latched on instantly.
SHE’S BACK
bro she sounds like she just crawled out of the grave
Max bit down on a smile. “There’s beans in the cupboard,” he told her, ignoring his teammates giggles in his ears.
“…the grinder’s too loud,” she mumbled, and he could practically hear the pout without looking.
“That’s… how grinders work, Liefje,” he said, steering with one hand for a moment just to shrug, and eye her with a teasing smile.
A pause. “Can’t you make it for me?”
bro make the coffee for your queen
he’s WHIPPED i know it
Max let out a short laugh. “I’m,” the car twitched for a second, he corrected it “,kind of busy here Schatje.”
She didn’t argue. Just a deep and dramatic sigh, the quiet scuff of her feet retreating, and the whump of her collapsing onto the couch. “I guess you want your girlfriend to have a terrible start to her summer holidays.”
Over comms, one of his teammates snorted. “Mate, that’s cruel. Your girlfriend’s asking for coffee and you’re ignoring her?”
Another chimed in immediately, tone dripping with mischief. “Bet you could wake her up better than any espresso, huh, Max?”
Max burst into a laugh so sudden he clipped a kerb, muttering, “Oh my god, shut up,” as he tried to stop his cheeks from blushing. “They’re saying I could have woken you up differently,” he called over his shoulder.
From under what sounded like a pillow came a muffled groan, “Tell them they’re worse than my teens.”
He laughed out loud, flipped the mic back on, and relayed, “She says you’re worse than her students.”
The guys roared, one muttering something else questionable. Max laughed so hard he had to lift off the throttle.
“What’d he say?” came the sleepy voice from the couch.
He hesitated, still grinning. “…That you should give him detention.”
She snorted. “Yeah, well, I’d make him write out ‘I will not be gross on the internet’ a hundred times.” Max smirked, relaying it word for word while his teammates howled. Chat spammed that he should just put her on the call instead of being the transmitter.
The rest of the laps went by with the occasional background yawn, the rustle of a blanket, and the faint hum of her scrolling on her phone and laughing at some TikToks.
this is so domestic i can’t stand it
not her giggling in the background
When the team finally took a short break before the next race, Max decided to be a nice boyfriend. “Alright, I’m gonna make her coffee now.” He turned in his chair to get up, only to find her curled up, blanket pulled to her chin, already fast asleep again.
Max just shook his head, smiling to himself. “Never mind. Crisis averted, she’s back to sleep. Gotta make the most of the time without school.”
From the couch, without even opening her eyes, she mumbled, “Still no coffee, though…”
Max just sighed in defeat.
The stream started unusually quiet that evening in the winter. Max’s usual chatter was replaced by a soft tone when he talked, and the glow from his racing rig was the only light in the room. The Redline team and chat noticed immediately.
One of the guys on comms teased, “Oi, Max, what’s with the creepy mood lighting? You look like you’re hiding from a ghost.” Another chimed in, “Yeah, mate, this isn’t supposed to be a séance!”
Chat flooded with laughing and confused emojis, but Max just smiled gently.
“Yeah, I’m sitting in the dark today,” he admitted quietly, “Because… well, my girlfriend’s had a migraine all day. She missed me while I was at work, and she didn’t want to be alone.” His voice softened as he spoke, eyes flickering to the shadowy couch nearby.
One of the guys asked, “She’s there right now?”
Max nodded, lips curling into a fond little smile. “Yeah. I moved the couch closer so she could be next to me while we do our stuff. She’s just resting, but she’s here”
Between practice laps and breaks, Max shared a few little updates, careful not to sound too heavy. “She’s wrapped up in that big blanket, it's weighted so it feels really good,” he said, “and she’s really tired… but she keeps reaching out for me.”
Then he shifted the camera angle slightly, revealing the outline of a blanket pile on the couch, after a moment, a hand crept into view, gently resting on Max’s thigh. Really she was going for his hand, but her arm wasn’t long enough, so she settled for the thigh.
“Ohhh, hand reveal,” Luke teased. “She’s real!” one of the others laughed, while chat was freaking out an equal amount.
Max chuckled, a little embarrassed but clearly amused. He adjusted his seat, sliding his hand gently over hers and letting her hold on before rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. “She’s just grounding herself, I guess,” he explained softly, the warmth in his voice unmistakable. “I’m lucky she trusts me enough to do that.”
During one of the races, a quiet, pained sound came from the couch. Max’s whole focus shifted. “Hang on, guys,” he said into his mic, before abandoning his sim-rig mid lap. He took off his headset and set it on the desk, then leaned toward her.
“You still hurting, Liefje?” he whispered. She nodded under the blanket, barely opening her bleary eyes.
Max brushed her hair gently back from her forehead. “Alright. I’ve got something for you.” He moved to the fridge and came back with one of those gel-filled cooling headbands. He knelt beside the couch and eased it over her hairline, adjusting it until it sat just right over her eyes.
“Better?” he asked softly.
“Mm… yeah,” she mumbled, but after a beat, her lips twitched. “You know this makes you an official migraine assistant now, right?”
Max huffed a quiet laugh. “That’s not a real job title.”
“It is now,” she said, eyes already closed underneath the eye mask again. “And you’re really good at it, maybe I'll give you a promotion”
He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand before tucking the blanket more securely around her. “I’ll be right here.”
Sliding back into his seat, he put his headset on again. “Alright, crisis handled,” he told the guys.
“What’d you do?” Diogo asked.
“Cold headband. Weighted blanket, and of course - Me,” Max deadpanned, earning a round of snickers.
From the couch came a faint, sleepy murmur. Max leaned back, his eyes flicking to her silhouette under the blanket.
“She’s been so tired all day,” he said. “I think she’s been fighting the migraine more than she lets on.”
For the rest of the stream, Max’s attention was split between the track and the hand in his. When she shifted slightly, Max smiled wider.
The final lap ended, and as the stream wound down, the dim light bathed the room in a warm glow. She was asleep again, nestled against the couch cushions, hand still softly clasped in his.
Max whispered, barely above the hum of his computer, “Sleep well, liefje.”
Max’s fingers danced over the sim wheel, as they were watching some footage back, the familiar hum of a race filling the living room. His eyes were sharp and focused, but behind him, the soft creak of the front door caught his attention.
“Hey,” came a sleepy, barely audible voice from just off camera.
Max smiled without turning, the immediate ‘Tell her hello!’ from his teammates filling his ear.
“Hey, liefje. What’s up?”
Slow footsteps padded closer. Before Max could say more, a small tray appeared at the edge of the frame. A hearty dinner plate with a jug of water beside it. “I thought you’d be hungry, and I just ate, so..” she murmured, voice thick with tiredness.
“Thank you,” Max said, reaching out to take the tray, tearing his eyes away from the screen. “You didn’t have to.” She shrugged, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. “I didn’t want to bother you, but you’re ignoring your stomach. And while it’s still early, I’m gonna crash any minute now.”
Chat instantly lit up with heart and food emojis, some playful teasing about Max being whipped.
Max chuckled, keeping his eyes on her. “You’re a saint.”
Quickly he pushed the camera downwards so that he could press a gentle, thankful kiss to her lips in peace. What he hadn’t thought about was how everyone could now see a) the hoodie she was wearing was definitely his, and b) the grip he had on her waist.
There was a beat of silence before Enzo whistled low over comms. “That’s not very PG-13, mate.”
Gianni laughed, “Forget the hoodie, chat! I’m more concerned with where your hands are, Romeo.”
Chat was already going feral:
HELLO?? WAIST GRAB??
that is NOT a handshake max
Max’s ears went a little pink as he straightened the camera again after ensuring that she was out of frame, or at least her face. “You’re all ridiculous.”
“Yeah,” Enzo shot back, “and you’re whipped.”
Max just grinned, not bothered by their teasing at all. “She just brought me dinner, in my hoodie, in my apartment… of course I’m whipped.”
Before he could take a bite, she yawned, “I’m gonna go crash on the couch after this,” she mumbled, almost to herself.
Max nodded, voice warm but steady. “Go get some rest. I’ve got you. Thank you again for dinner, Schatje. It’s delicious.” She disappeared fully from frame, the soft footsteps retreating as Max turned back to his teammates and the chat buzzing with questions.
Gianni grinned, “So, who is she, really? You’ve gotta spill some secrets, mate.”
Max laughed softly. “She’s a teacher. Right now, exam season’s been brutal for her. Tons of stress, migraines have been hitting hard. And she tries to help her students as best as she can, and when they get stressed, she gets even worse. So yeah.. bit rough at the moment.”
“Ah, she’s one of the good ones then? The kind who really cares?”
Max’s tone grew a little softer, more thoughtful as he stared at his sleeping girlfriend. “Yeah. She cares.. a lot. When we started dating, she wouldn’t let me take care of her. She was always the strong one… didn’t want to be the one needing help.”
Enzo teased, “Sounds like she’s got you wrapped around her finger now.”
Max smiled, shaking his head. “Yeah, well… she’s still that strong girl. But now? I get to be the one who’s there. When the migraines hit, when she’s tired or stressed, I’m here. Even if it’s just sitting quietly while she naps.”
Chat filled with “awws” and hearts.
Max glanced toward the couch, voice dropping to a gentle whisper. “She’s the kind of person who doesn’t ask for help easily. But she lets me in now, and that means a lot.”
During this particular stream, chat notices how distracted Max was, glancing at the door and his phone every few minutes.
You okay, Max?
don’t mind him.. he’s just hearing voices
Max’s voice is tight. “Yeah… she’s had a long day at work. Said texted and said that she would be home by now, but, nothing yet.” He types a quick message, then puts his phone down.
The front door opens quietly. Footsteps shuffle in.
She steps into their shared home, eyes red and tired, shoulders heavy as her bag and jacket were dropped next to the door. Without a word, she beelines it towards Max, blind to the fact that he was streaming, before sliding into his lap, burying her face against his throat.
WHO IS SHE??
is this THE girlfriend???
Max’s arms close around her immediately, pulling her even closer in the tight space as he pressed soft kisses to her hair, “Hey Schatje, there you are. Rough day, huh?”
A shaky, muffled nod.
In Max’s ear, his teammates kept their voices low, not wanting to disturb the quiet moment. Luke whispered, “Max, do you want to end the stream? You can take a break if you need.” Max glanced down at her, then back at the screen. “She’s okay with me staying, right?”
From his lap came a tired but calm, “As long as you let me stay.”
i’m gonna cry this is so soft
max being boyfriend of the year rn
Max strokes her hair, voice almost a whisper. “It’s okay, Schat, just let it out.”
She trembles slightly, tears soaking into his shirt as she cries silently against his neck. Max stays as still as he can, letting her lean into him as they start the next race in the simmulator.
Slowly, her tears dry as exhaustion finally wins over, and she drifts to sleep, curled against his chest, breathing soft and even. Max doesn’t move, just gently brushing her hair back, careful not to wake her.
After a while, she blinks awake, still curled against Max’s chest. He carefully lifted a second headset over her ears, and leaned toward the camera with a soft smile.
“Alright, chat,” Max said, voice warm but playful, “the moment you’ve all been waiting for. This is the mystery girl who’s been sneaking into my streams and stealing me away from you guys.”
From the call, Luke’s voice broke in, teasing and a bit impatient. “About time, mate! We’ve been waiting forever for this.”
Diogo laughed quietly, “Finally! She’s making her debut. Hi there!”
Max glanced down at her, then back at the stream. “Yeah, this is my girlfriend. Go ahead and say hi.”
She shifted slightly, heat rising to her cheeks, voice a little shy but steady. “H-hi... Sorry for crashing in like this. It’s been a really rough day.”
hi gf!!!
OUR girlfriend nowwwww
Gianni’s voice was quick to respond, gentle and welcoming. “No need to apologize! We’re just happy to finally meet you.”
Luke’s tone softened, clearly impressed. “We like you already. Liefje, you’ve got yourself a whole fan club now.”
Max grinned, cutting in with mock seriousness. “Hey, ‘Liefje’ is my name for her! Get your own! That counts for you too, chat.”
A small laugh escaped her lips, mixed with a tired sigh. “Thanks for letting me just... be here. With him.”
Diogo chuckled. “He’s wrapped so tight around your little finger, I don't think there was any other option.”
Max relaxed back in his chair, wrapping an arm around her as she settled beside him. He gave her a gentle squeeze to make sure she’s okay.
While Max raced, she stayed curled in his lap, half-listening to the hum of the sim and half-soaking in the easy banter between him and the guys, Max’s quiet chuckles rumbled against her cheek, calming her down one by one.
The steady rhythm of their voices, the familiar sound of tires screeching in the headset, and Max’s hand idly tracing circles on her arm all worked together to ease the tight knot in her chest.
By the time the next race ended, the heaviness in her shoulders had lightened, and there was the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips.
Luke grinned, “Hey, so when’s she gonna hop in the sim and show us how it’s done? You think she’s got what it takes?”
Max laughed, glancing over at her. “You wanna give it a go?”
She lifted her head from his shoulder, eyes sparkling despite the exhaustion. “You bet. I’ll wipe the floor with you guys.”
YESSS LET HER DRIVE
this is gonna be chaos and I’m here for it
The team erupted into laughter. “Oh, it’s on now!”
Max shook his head, smiling. “Guess I better step up my game, she’s coming for my seat.”
Note: Please let me know how you like 'chat' in this fic! I'm scared I might have added them too much haha!
if you’re interested I’d love some more soft!max !!! I read “five more minutes” and “too many kisses” at LEAST three times a week because I just love the soft intimacy of them…
Now You’re All Set
Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader
Summary: All packed, all planned, all undone by one kiss. (Requested)
1.3k words / Masterlist
Max is halfway out the door, one hand gripping his keys, the other scrolling through something on his phone. He’s muttering under his breath about traffic, probably already calculating the fastest route to the airport in his head. You can tell by the way his brow furrows, lips moving in silent calculation that he's already in race mode, mentally weaving through cars that haven’t even cut him off yet.
From the kitchen you watch him with quiet amusement, arms loosely crossed over your chest, mug cradled against your side. There’s something so familiar, so him about this exact moment, the way he double-checks his pockets in the same order every time, phone, wallet, keys. The way he pats down his jacket like he doesn’t trust himself not to have forgotten something important. It’s borderline obsessive and yet it makes your chest warm.
“Wait,” you call out just as he’s reaching for the doorknob. “You forgot something.”
Max freezes mid-step. He turns halfway, brows pulled together. “No, I didn’t,” he says, lifting his phone as evidence. “Wallet, keys, phone. See?”
But you’re already crossing the room toward him, steps quiet on the hardwood. He blinks, caught off guard, phone lowering slightly as you reach him.
You hook your fingers into the front of his hoodie, tugging him down gently not forcefully, just enough for him to get the hint. He doesn’t resist, doesn’t even hesitate. Max bends down instinctively, like his body’s done this a hundred times before, muscle memory at this point.
You kiss him.
It’s not a quick goodbye peck. It’s soft. Slow. Warm. The kind of kiss that says come back safe and I love you and don’t be in such a rush. You feel his breath stutter a little in his chest, and then he relaxes into it, the hand holding his keys dropping to his side. His other arm slips around your waist, pulling you in closer like he’s anchoring himself to the moment. To you.
His lips are still a little chapped from the early autumn air, and he smells faintly like hair gel, his cologne, and the hoodie you slept in last night.
When you finally pull back he’s blinking at you like he forgot what day it was.
“Okay,” you murmur, smiling up at him. “Now you’re all set.”
Max just stares at you for a second. His expression softens, softer than most people ever get to see. There’s a tiny, disbelieving smile playing at the corners of his mouth, like he can’t quite believe you’re real. That you’re his. Then he exhales a small laugh and shakes his head.
“You can’t just do that,” he says, voice still gravelly with sleep.
“Do what?” you ask, tilting your head, playing innocent even though you both know exactly what you’re doing.
“Make me forget whatever I was just talking about. Make me…” His voice drops lower, almost sheepish now. “Make me want to stay.”
You bite back your grin, smoothing a stray piece of hair off his forehead, your fingers lingering just a second longer than necessary. “Not my fault you’re so easily distracted.”
Max huffs like he’s annoyed, but the way his arm tightens around your waist gives him away. He dips his head again, pressing a slower, deeper kiss to your lips. The kind that makes time slow down. The kind that leaves you both breathless in the best way.
“I should go,” he mumbles, though he still hasn’t let go of you.
“Probably.”
Neither of you move. It’s almost laughable how reluctant he looks, like the door behind him is some impossible hurdle he doesn’t actually want to cross. His thumb brushes lightly over your side, and you wonder if he’s stalling just to commit every inch of this moment to memory.
Eventually, eventually, he sighs and pulls back. His fingers squeeze your hip once like a promise.
“I’ll text you when I land,” he says, already missing you, already thinking about the moment he gets to come home.
You nod, eyes crinkling with affection. “Have a safe flight.”
He lingers at the doorway for a moment longer, just long enough to glance back one last time. His gaze sweeps over you, your bare feet, the way his hoodie hangs on your frame, the sleepy love in your eyes and something shifts in his face, it’s like he’s trying to take a picture with his heart.
Then he smirks.
And just like that he’s gone.
But not before blowing you a cheeky kiss over his shoulder.
You catch it without thinking and shake your head, grinning as you shut the door behind him, already counting down the hours until he’s back.
Later that evening you’re curled up in bed, his side is empty and cold in that distinct way that feels unfair, like even the sheets miss him. The TV plays something low and forgettable in the background, but your attention flickers when your phone buzzes softly against your thigh.
Max: You seriously expect me to survive an entire race weekend with just one kiss?
You laugh under your breath, instantly typing back.
You: I gave you at least two.
There’s a pause. Then the familiar three dots appear… disappear… reappear again like he’s rewriting his response to be just right.
Max: Not nearly enough. Not even close.
You roll your eyes fondly, but your cheeks are already warming. The little ache in your chest stretches into something soft, something fluttery.
You: You’re very needy you know that?
Max: Only for you.
You cover your face with one hand, letting out a small, giddy groan. God, he is such a menace. A sweet, lovesick menace who somehow makes you feel like the only person in the world, even from a thousand miles away.
A few minutes later another message pops up.
Max: You still awake?
You: Yeah? Why?
Max: Because I’m still lying here thinking about that kiss.
You curl deeper into the blankets, biting your lip, smiling like an idiot.
You: Oh?
Max: Yeah.
Max: And how you tugged on my hoodie like you couldn’t stand to let me leave.
You blink at the screen, suddenly way too aware of the way your heart's thudding in your chest.
You: You’re being unfair right now.
Max: You started it.
Max: Now I can’t stop thinking about you.
Max: About how much I wanted to come back and crawl into bed with you.
You press your phone to your chest for a second, trying to collect yourself. You feel like a teenager again completely wrecked by the simplest kind of love.
Then your phone buzzes again.
Max: And about all the ways you’re going to make it up to me when I get back.
You let out a surprised laugh, cheeks on fire, shaking your head.
You: If you win this weekend maybe I’ll consider it.
It takes less than a second for the response to come through.
Max: Now I have no choice but to win.
You bite your lip again, warmth blooming in your chest like sunlight.
You: Simp.
Max: Proudly.
Max: I miss you already.
You: I miss you more.
Max: Not possible.
You blink at that, a soft ache tugging at your heart. Your fingers hesitate over the keyboard before you send:
You: Come home safe.
Max: Always. I’ve got someone to come home to.
You don’t reply right away. You just stare at the screen, heart full, eyes glassy, wishing he could see the way you were smiling right now.
Moments later, one last message buzzes through:
Max: Sweet dreams liefje. I’ll dream of you.
You curl deeper into the blankets, holding the phone to your chest like it might bring you closer to him.
Synopsis: Max watches the woman he loves leave Earth on Artemis II, holding his breath until her voice crackles down from orbit — and when she finally returns, running straight into his arms, he realises home was never a place, just her coming back to him.
Requested: “Hii! Not sure if you are taking requests but can you do a fanfic of a Max Verstappen x reader!astronaut? l've recently been fascinated with Artemis Il and it would be great if reader is part of the crew!” - I hope you like it!
The kind that settled over a garage after a bad quali.
The kind that lived in the corners of hotel rooms at 3AM.
The kind that followed him home after a race he should’ve won.
But none of it compared to this silence — the one that filled his apartment the night before your launch.
You were in the kitchen, barefoot, hair tied up, wearing one of his old Red Bull hoodies like it was armour. Your mission patch was sewn onto the sleeve. He’d watched you stitch it on yourself, tongue between your teeth, refusing help even though he’d offered three times.
You were leaving Earth in the morning.
He still hadn’t figured out how to breathe.
“Max,” you said softly, leaning against the counter, “you’re staring.”
“I’m allowed,” he muttered, crossing the room to you. “You’re my girlfriend. And you’re going to space. I think staring is the bare minimum.”
You laughed — that warm, bright sound he’d memorised long before he ever admitted he was in love with you. He stepped behind you, arms sliding around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder.
“You packed everything?” he asked.
“Mm‑hmm.”
“Even the photo?”
You turned your head, smiling. “The one of us in Monaco? Yeah. It’s in my personal kit.”
He exhaled, relieved. That photo — you on his shoulders, sunglasses crooked, both of you sunburnt and laughing — was the closest thing he had to proof that the world could be soft.
“You know,” you murmured, “you’re taking this harder than my parents.”
“Your parents aren’t dating someone who’s about to leave the planet.”
You nudged him with your elbow. “I’m coming back.”
“I know,” he said. And he did. Rationally. Logically. Statistically.
But love had never been rational for him.
---
LAUNCH DAY
Max wasn’t prepared for how small you looked in the suit.
You’d always been larger than life to him — brilliant, stubborn, terrifyingly capable. But standing there in the white room, helmet tucked under your arm, NASA crew bustling around you, you looked… human. Breakable.
He swallowed hard.
You stepped toward him, boots heavy on the floor. “Hey.”
He tried to smile. It came out crooked. “Hey.”
“You’re not going to cry, are you?”
“No,” he said immediately. Too immediately.
You raised a brow.
“Okay, maybe a little,” he admitted.
You reached up, gloved hand brushing his cheek. “I’ll be fine, Max.”
“I know. I just—” His voice cracked. He hated that. “I just love you.”
Your eyes softened behind the visor. “I love you too.”
He kissed your helmet — the only place he could reach — and stepped back as the techs guided you away. You looked over your shoulder three times.
He counted every one.
---
T‑0
Max watched the launch from the VIP area, but it felt like he was the only person on Earth.
The countdown thundered through the speakers.
1.
2.
3.
His hands shook.
10.
9.
8.
He whispered your name like a prayer.
7.
6.
5.
He stopped breathing.
4.
3.
2.
1.
The rocket ignited, a sun blooming on the horizon. The ground trembled. The air split open. And then you were rising — leaving him, leaving everything, climbing into the sky like you were born for it.
He didn’t cheer. He didn’t clap.
He just watched, jaw tight, heart somewhere in his throat.
When the rocket disappeared into the clouds, he finally exhaled.
“She’s okay,” someone said behind him.
He nodded. “Yeah. She is.”
But he wouldn’t believe it until he heard your voice.
---
ORBIT
You called him from space.
Well — technically, NASA patched you through. But the moment your face appeared on the screen, floating slightly, hair drifting around your head like a halo, Max forgot how to speak.
“Hi,” you said, grinning.
He blinked. “You’re— you’re floating.”
“Yeah,” you laughed. “Zero‑G tends to do that.”
“You look beautiful.”
You rolled your eyes. “Max, I’m literally in a pressure suit.”
“And you still look beautiful.”
Your smile softened. “How are you holding up?”
“Terribly,” he said honestly. “I miss you.”
“I miss you too.”
You showed him the Earth through the window — a glowing curve of blue and white. “You see that? That’s home.”
He swallowed. “Come back to it.”
“I will.”
“You promise?”
“I swear on the Moon.”
He laughed — really laughed — for the first time since you left.
---
REUNION
The moment you spotted him, you broke into a run.
He met you halfway, arms wrapping around you so tightly the medics gave up trying to intervene. You buried your face in his neck, breathing him in like oxygen.
“You’re here,” he whispered, voice shaking. “You’re actually here.”
“I told you I’d come back.”
He pulled back just enough to look at you, hands cupping your face. “Don’t ever do that to me again.”
You smirked. “Go to space?”
“Yes.”
“Max, I’m literally an astronaut.”
He groaned. “I know. I know. I’m proud of you. I’m just—” He pressed his forehead to yours. “I’m so in love with you it’s stupid.”
You kissed him — messy, relieved, grounding.
“I brought you something,” you murmured against his lips.
“What?”
You reached into your suit pocket and pulled out a small, sealed bag. Inside was a tiny patch of fabric.
Your mission patch.
The one you’d worn in orbit.
“For you,” you said. “So you have a piece of space too.”
He stared at it, then at you, then back at it.
“Marry me,” he blurted.
You froze. “What?”
“Marry me,” he repeated, breathless. “Not now. Not tomorrow. But someday. When you’re ready. When I’m ready. Just— someday.”
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