The Week of Angst| II
Max Verstappen| Love, In every moment
Pairing max × female reader
The Formula 1 paddock was alive with its usual chaos—reporters swarming for interviews, engineers tweaking final adjustments, and fans craning for a glimpse of their favorite drivers. Among the flurry of activity stood Max Verstappen, the sport’s rising star. He had the world at his feet—chiseled good looks, record-breaking lap times, and a million-dollar smile that left fans weak in the knees.
But none of that mattered when Y/n was around.
Y/n was a freelance photographer, her sharp wit and even sharper lens earning her a reputation as one of the best in the business. She wasn’t like the others who swooned over Max. She teased him, challenged him, made him feel things he didn’t fully understand.
Their first encounter had been accidental. Y/n, too focused on capturing the perfect shot of the pit lane, hadn’t noticed Max approaching. They collided, her camera nearly crashing to the floor if not for his quick reflexes.
“Careful,” he said, steadying her. “You almost lost your shot.”
“Thanks to you,” she snapped, brushing herself off.
Max had smirked. “Maybe you should watch where you’re going next time.”
From that moment on, the tension between them was undeniable.
Their "friendship" grew as the season progressed. They spent countless hours together, whether it was during post-race celebrations or quiet evenings exploring the cities the circuit visited. Yet, they remained in denial, each too afraid to admit the feelings bubbling beneath the surface.
One evening in Monaco, after a long day at the track, they found themselves alone on the rooftop of their hotel. The city glittered below, the cool breeze carrying the scent of the sea.
Y/n shivered slightly, and Max, without hesitation, draped his jacket over her shoulders.
“You don’t have to take care of me, you know,” she said, her voice soft but teasing.
“Maybe I want to,” he replied, his gaze lingering on her lips.
For a moment, it felt like the world had stopped. Their faces inched closer, breaths mingling, until—
“I should go,” y/n said abruptly, stepping back, her cheeks flushed.
“Yeah,” Max said, clearing his throat. “Just friends, right?”
“Just friends,” she echoed, though her heart thundered in her chest.
The façade of friendship grew thinner with each passing day. Every accidental brush of their hands, every lingering glance, every time Max’s arm found its way around her waist—it all felt too real.
Then came the night of the team dinner party. Y/n, dressed in a simple but stunning black dress, sat at the edge of the room with a plate of cake. Max couldn’t take his eyes off her as she took a bite, her tongue flicking out to catch a bit of frosting.
But when he saw a smudge of chocolate on her lips, something inside him snapped.
He crossed the room in a few long strides, kneeling in front of her.
“You’ve got…” He trailed off, brushing his thumb over her lips to wipe away the frosting.
Her breath hitched, her eyes locking with his.
“Max…” she whispered, her voice trembling.
“I can’t do this anymore,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “I can’t pretend I don’t want you.”
Before she could reply, his lips captured hers. The kiss was slow at first, hesitant, but it quickly deepened, years of unspoken feelings pouring into that moment. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, as if she couldn’t bear to let him go.
When they finally broke apart, she was breathless, her cheeks flushed.
“I love you,” he said, his forehead resting against hers.
Tears welled in her eyes. “I love you too.”
They barely made it back to his hotel room before their lips crashed together again. Clothes fell to the floor in a trail leading to the bed.
Max’s hands roamed her body, mapping every curve, every soft inch of skin. His lips followed, leaving a blazing trail from her neck to her collarbone and further down.
Y/n gasped as his touch grew bolder, her body arching into his. She felt like she was on fire, every nerve ending alive under his care. Their movements were slow and deliberate, an exploration of everything they had denied themselves for so long.
“Y/n,” he whispered against her skin, his voice heavy with emotion. “You’re everything.”
She pulled him closer, her lips capturing his in a kiss that was as desperate as it was loving. They lost themselves in each other that night, their passion binding them in a way words never could.
Their relationship became the talk of the paddock, but neither cared. For the first time, Max felt truly alive, and Y/n had never been happier. Together, they were unstoppable, their love shining brighter than any podium finish.
But happiness has a cruel way of slipping through your fingers.
It started with bruises that wouldn’t heal and an exhaustion y/n couldn’t shake. A doctor’s visit confirmed the worst: leukemia.
She kept the diagnosis to herself at first, not wanting to burden Max. But as her symptoms worsened, she made the heartbreaking decision to push him away.
The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of a bedside lamp casting shadows on the walls. Y/n sat on the edge of the bed, her hands trembling as she gripped the edge of her loose sweater. She had rehearsed this moment countless times in her head, each scenario more painful than the last.
Max stood in the doorway, his brow furrowed with concern. “You’ve barely said a word all evening,” he said softly, stepping closer. “What’s going on, Y/n?”
She looked up at him, her chest tightening at the sight of his face. His messy hair, his piercing ocean eyes, the way his lips tilted in that worried half-smile—all of it was too much. How was she supposed to walk away from the man she loved more than life itself?
“I think we should end this,” she said abruptly, her voice colder than she intended.
Max froze, his expression shifting from confusion to disbelief. “What are you talking about?”
“I can’t do this anymore,” she continued, avoiding his gaze. “It’s too much. The traveling, the pressure, being part of your world. I’m… I’m tired of it.”
“Y/n, stop.” His voice was firm, his jaw tightening. He stepped closer, kneeling in front of her so they were eye-level. “You don’t mean that. What’s really going on?”
Her heart cracked at the sight of him, so vulnerable and desperate. She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t let him see the tears welling in her eyes.
“I don’t love you anymore,” she lied, the words slicing through her like a knife.
Max flinched as though she’d slapped him. For a moment, he just stared at her, searching her face for some sign that this was a joke, a cruel prank.
“That’s not true,” he said finally, his voice trembling. “You don’t just stop loving someone, Y/n. I know you. I know us. You’re lying.”
“Max, please,” she begged, standing and turning away from him. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”
“No,” he said, his tone sharper now. He grabbed her hand, spinning her back around to face him. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to push me away without an explanation.”
She yanked her hand free, tears spilling down her cheeks. “I’m trying to protect you!” she shouted, her voice breaking.
“From what?” he demanded, his eyes blazing with frustration. “From you? From us?”
“From this!” she screamed, gesturing to herself. “I’m sick, Max! I have leukemia. I’m dying. I didn’t want you to see me like this. I didn’t want to drag you down with me.”
The room fell silent, her words hanging heavy in the air.
Max stared at her, his face pale, his chest heaving as he processed what she had just said.
“You… you’re sick?” he whispered, his voice barely audible.
She nodded, her legs giving out as she sank back onto the bed. “I didn’t want you to find out like this,” she said, her voice trembling. “I thought if I pushed you away, it would be easier for you when I’m gone.”
“Easier for me?” Max said, his voice rising in disbelief. He knelt in front of her again, gripping her hands tightly. “Do you think losing you could ever be easy? Do you think I’d ever be okay knowing I let you face this alone?”
She shook her head, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. “I didn’t want you to see me like this, Max. Weak and—”
“You’re not weak,” he interrupted, his voice breaking. “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met. And I love you, Y/n. I love you so much it hurts. Don’t you get that?”
She sobbed, her hands clutching his as if he were the only thing keeping her grounded. “I didn’t want to ruin your life,” she choked out.
“You are my life,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Don’t you see? You’re everything to me. And if we only have weeks, months, whatever time we’ve got—I want to spend it with you. Every single second.”
She broke then, collapsing into his arms as her sobs wracked her body. He held her tightly, his own tears streaming down his face as he whispered into her hair.
“We’ll fight this,” he said softly. “Together. I’m not going anywhere, Y/n. Not now, not ever.”
And for the first time since her diagnosis, Y/n allowed herself to believe she wasn’t alone.
Max became her anchor. He was there for every treatment, every bad day, every moment she wanted to give up. They made the most of their time together—dancing in empty hotel rooms, sharing whispered confessions, and making love as if it might be their last chance.
But as the months passed, y/n grew weaker. They have to move her in hospital.
The room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the machines monitoring her fragile heartbeat. The curtains were drawn, letting in only a sliver of golden sunlight that stretched across the bed where Y/n lay. She was frail, her once-vibrant presence now reduced to a fragile figure with pale skin and sunken cheeks.
Max sat by her side, his fingers intertwined with hers, though her grip was weak. His thumb stroked her knuckles, desperate to memorize the feeling of her skin, the warmth that was fading with each passing moment.
Her eyelids fluttered, and she turned her head slowly to look at him. Even now, her eyes—those beautiful eyes—still held a faint glimmer of the woman he loved so fiercely.
“Max…” Her voice was barely a whisper, so soft he had to lean closer to hear her.
“I’m here,” he said, his voice steady despite the lump in his throat. “I’m not going anywhere.”
A faint smile tugged at her lips. “You’re always here… my stubborn Max.”
“And I always will be,” he replied, his voice cracking just slightly. He pressed a kiss to her hand, lingering as if that small act could keep her with him a little longer.
She closed her eyes for a moment, gathering her strength before speaking again. “You’ve… given me so much,” she murmured. “More than I ever thought I’d have. I got to love you… and be loved by you. That’s more than enough.”
“Don’t say that,” Max said, shaking his head. His jaw tightened as tears threatened to spill. “It’s not enough, Y/n. I want more time with you. I want everything with you.”
She squeezed his hand weakly, her smile bittersweet. “Time isn’t what matters, Max. It’s how we spent it.” Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “And I wouldn’t trade a single second of it.”
His breath hitched as he fought against the pain clawing at his chest. “I can’t do this without you,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “I don’t know how to go on, y/n. You’re my whole world.”
She blinked up at him, tears slipping down her cheeks. “You’ll go on because you have to,” she said softly. “Because you’re Max Verstappen. You’re strong, even when you don’t feel it. And because… you’ll carry me with you. Always.”
He bent his head, his shoulders shaking as silent sobs wracked his body. She reached up with trembling fingers, brushing them through his hair, as if comforting him gave her strength.
“I love you,” she whispered, her voice so faint it was almost lost. “I’ll love you… forever.”
Max lifted his head, his face streaked with tears. “And I’ll love you forever,” he said, his voice hoarse. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to hers. “You’re my everything, Y/n. Always.”
Her breathing grew shallower, her chest rising and falling with effort. She closed her eyes, a peaceful expression settling over her face.
“Don’t… forget me,” she whispered, her lips barely moving.
“Never,” he promised, his voice trembling. “You’ll always be with me. In everything I do.”
A tear slipped from the corner of her eye as her breathing slowed. Her fingers slackened in his, her body finally succumbing to the battle she had fought so bravely.
Max sat there, his forehead still pressed to hers, his tears falling freely as he held her close.
“I’ll never let you go,” he whispered through his sobs.
And in that quiet room, with the world outside oblivious to the devastating loss, Max stayed with her, holding her until her warmth faded, and she became a memory—one he would carry with him for the rest of his life.
The room was eerily quiet when Max woke, his chest heaving and his heart racing as if he’d just run a marathon. His shirt clung to his damp skin, soaked with cold sweat. His eyes darted around, wild and unfocused, his mind desperately trying to separate reality from the vivid nightmare that had just consumed him.
Y/n was gone. The leukemia, the heartbreak, her final breath—all of it played in his head like a cruel, unrelenting movie.
He sat up abruptly, gasping for air. His trembling hands gripped the sheets, the faint echoes of her weak voice in his dream still ringing in his ears. He could still feel the crushing weight of her loss, the pain that had shattered him in that unreal world.
“Max!”
Her voice came from the kitchen. Bright. Alive.
He froze. For a moment, he thought he was still dreaming, that his mind was playing tricks on him. But then the familiar clatter of a pan hitting the counter jolted him into action.
“Max! Wake up! The pancakes are ready!”
He threw the covers off and stumbled out of bed, his legs weak beneath him. His breath hitched as he rounded the corner into the kitchen and saw her—Y/n.
She stood by the stove in one of his oversized t-shirts, her hair slightly messy, a spatula in hand as she flipped a pancake with practiced ease. The smell of butter and syrup filled the air, but all Max could focus on was her.
Alive. Healthy. Smiling.
“Finally!” she said, turning to look at him with a playful roll of her eyes. “You sleep like the dead. I was about to—”
Before she could finish, Max crossed the room in two long strides, wrapping his arms around her from behind. He buried his face in her hair, inhaling her familiar scent, his arms tightening around her as if she might vanish if he let go.
Y/n froze for a moment, startled by the sudden embrace. “Max? What’s wrong?”
He didn’t answer. He couldn’t. The lump in his throat was too big, and tears were already streaming down his cheeks.
“Hey…” she said softly, setting the spatula down. She turned in his arms, her brows knitting together in concern as she cupped his face. “Max, you’re crying. What’s going on? Did something happen?”
He shook his head, his hands trembling as they held onto her. “It’s nothing,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Just… a nightmare.”
Her eyes softened, and she gently wiped a tear from his cheek. “It must’ve been a bad one,” she said, her tone tender. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Max shook his head again, swallowing hard. “No. I… I just needed to hold you.”
Her expression melted into one of pure love as she pulled him closer, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. “I’m right here,” she murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Those words—so simple, yet so powerful—undid him completely. He held her tighter, his body trembling with silent sobs.
For a while, they stood like that, the pancakes forgotten as y/n ran her fingers through his hair, soothing him without knowing the full extent of the nightmare he’d endured.
Eventually, Max pulled back, his eyes red and puffy but filled with gratitude. He cupped her face, his thumb brushing over her cheek.
“I love you,” he said, his voice raw but full of conviction.
“I love you too,” she replied, smiling softly.
He leaned down and kissed her—slow, lingering, and filled with all the love and relief he felt.
In that moment, Max made a silent vow to himself: he would cherish every single second with her, no matter what life threw their way.
The pancakes could wait. For now, all that mattered was that she was here, in his arms, alive and well. And he wasn’t letting go.