summary: two separate pictures of you and charles without your wedding rings and one song released at the wrong time has fans speculating that everyone's favorite married couple is heading for a divorce. the truth is a lot less scandalous.
pairing: charles leclerc x wife!reader
fc: jade thirlwall
warnings: tiny bit suggestive - minors dni • time skips • likely a mistake or two
vicious speaks: a short and sweet one for you today 💙
charles masterlist | read on ao3
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫ .
liked by f1wags and others
deuxmoi F1 driver Charles Leclerc was spotted in a new video today without his wedding ring - a few months after we reported that things were tense between him and his wife, singer Yn Leclerc. Was this just a coincidence, or is there trouble in paradise? 🧐 Let us know your thoughts below!
view all comments
fan NOT MY PARENTS 😩
fan i refuse to believe this
fan NO
fan i’m sure this is all just one big misunderstanding…right? RIGHT?
fan for the sake of my sanity this is photoshopped
fan you can’t make me believe a couple so in love are suddenly getting a divorce
fan they’re intensely private, i can see them quietly divorcing. unfortunately 🥲
fan guys can we calm down? maybe he just forgot his ring.
fan i’m sorry i doubted you when you first reported that they were having problems 😕
fan LOVE IS DEAD
fan aw fuck
fan we know absolutely nothing!! let’s all calm down.
fan WAIT - WHO GETS LEO??? 😰
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫ .
liked by alexandrasaintmleux and others
yn_leclerc THAT’S SHOWBIZ BABY!
new album out april 22nd.
FUFN (FUCK YOU FOR NOW). out now🖕🏽
view all comments
charles_leclerc album of the year 🏆
⤷ yn_leclerc thanks hun 😚
⤷ fan what the fuck
⤷ fan i’m so confused
kellypiquet obsessed obsessed obsessed
⤷ yn_leclerc me when u do anything ♥︎ by kellypiquet
fan where the FUCK are her rings??!
⤷ fan oh it’s so over
sabrinacarpenter fufn is so good bby!! ♥︎ by author
fan just listened to the song…i’m scared
f1gossip hmm…
fan they’re interacting normally but charles wasn’t wearing his ring & neither is yn and this song is not helping me feel better about the whole situation at all 😟
deuxmoi interesting.
fan man i don’t know what to think
fan new yn album ohhh we are so back
taylorswift she's baaack!!! ♥︎ by author
fan this song is gonna haunt me i fear
perrie so proud of you and so excited for the album!! i already have fufn on repeat 💙 ♥︎ by author
fan welp.
oliviarodrigo FUCK YEA NEW YN MUSIC 🍾 ♥︎ by author
fan are you soft launching a divorce album 😭
reneerapp proud of you babe!! ❤️ ♥︎ by author
fan fufn is gonna go triple platinum in my house
zayn big congrats! ♥︎ by author
fan AOTY. SOTY.
leighannepinnock proud proud proud 💚 ♥︎ by author
fan the middle finger emoji pls
alexandrasaintmleux so excited! 🤍 ♥︎ by author
⤷ fan still can't believe they're friends
⤷ fan same!! like wtf 😭
fan idk what’s true atp
raye ❤️🍾 ♥︎ by author
fan this is so messy
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫ .
texts between you and charles
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫ .
charles_leclerc has added to their story
caption: fufn is out now!!! such a great song!
congrats yn_leclerc !!!
likes and replies
yn_leclerc liked charles_leclerc’s story
yn_leclerc lmaooo
⤷ yn_leclerc thank you for being my muse 💋
⤷ charles_leclerc always ♥️ even if the result isn't always flattering
⤷ yn_leclerc you've more than redeemed yourself, baby.
⤷ charles_leclerc multiple times in one night, if i remember correctly.
⤷ yn good times 🤭 ♥︎
maxverstappen1 liked charles_leclerc’s story
fan is my life a joke to you?
kellypiquet liked charles_leclerc's story
fan oh you think this is funny huh
oscarpiastri liked charles_leclerc's story
fan blocked and reported
arthur_leclerc liked charles_leclerc's story
fan oh you and yn are laughing at us, aren't you?
oliviarodrigo liked charles_leclerc's story
oliviarodgrigo you have no idea how funny this is to me 😭💀
⤷ charles_leclerc yn thought it'd be funny 😂
⤷ oliviarodrigo lmao she was right ♥︎
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫ .
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫ .
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫ .
texts between you and charles
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫ .
the next day
liked by charles_leclerc and others
leclercupdates Yn put the rumors to rest in her Zane Lowe interview!
ZANE: You know we gotta address the elephant in the room, right?
YN, LAUGHING: I figured!
ZANE: Where did FUFN come from?
YN: I was pissed at my husband after a night out and said "I have no more words, just fuck you. for now." and then thought to myself "Hey, those are pretty good lyrics" so i put them down in my notes and then kinda forgot about them because i was quite drunk at the time *laughs* eventually i came across the lyrics again and wanted to build on them so i got in the studio and eventually, this song was born.
ZANE: I noticed you said "Husband." Does that mean you guys are doing good? No trouble in paradise like people are suggesting?
YN: No! We're great. Our rings were sent out for cleaning and people just started spiraling. We actually find the rumors quite funny!
ZANE: It's good that you two can find the humor in that kind of stuff.
YN: Well, we've been together so long that eventually those kind of rumors are easy to laugh off and make light of.
ZANE: Yeah, i can understand that. We'll, i'm glad you guys are doing good!
YN: Thanks!
view all comments
fan THANK GOD
fan well i feel silly 🥲
⤷ fan i think we all do 🙃
fan not us losing our minds over nothing
fan we were having a collective breakdown and they were laughing at us 😭
fan i'm blocking deuxmoi
fan charles liking this post is so funny
fan I KNEW THEY WERE FINE
fan omg i'm not a child of divorce 🥳
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫ .
charles_leclerc has added to their story
caption: mine.
likes and replies
yn_leclerc liked charles_leclerc's story
yn_leclerc and only yours ♥️
⤷ charles_leclerc damn right ♥️
kikagomes liked charles_leclerc's story
fan MOM & DAD ❤️
lilyzneimer liked charles_leclerc's story
fan LOVE IS ALIVE AND WELL 🙌🏼
arthur_leclerc liked charles_leclerc's story
fan cuties 💞
pierregasly liked charles_leclerc's story
fan sooo glad i don't have to take sides in a divorce (yn would win me ofc but i'd feel really bad about it)
alexandrasaintmleux liked charles_leclerc's story
alexandrasaintmleux she's yours until i steal her 😉
Hey my beautiful stays I hope you guys like this one it was hard for me to this cause there wasn’t no apps to do the stories so I ended up using a website which was hard cause it this problem but I made it work. I can’t wait to do more of these.💕
IN WHICH — your f1 driver boyfriend soft launches your relationship to the public
pairing: various drivers x reader
warnings: use of y/n
tags: f1 fanfic, reader insert, kimi antonelli, george russell, charles leclerc, max verstappen, lando norris, alex albon, liam lawson, ollie bearman, arvid lindblad, oscar piastri, oneshot, f1 drivers react.
ᯓ➤ a/n : this is my first time writing anything for george, lando, charles, max, and alex. 😼 i got way more into some of these than others and you can probably tell. as always, i still hope you enjoy 😘
includes: kimi antonelli, george russell, oscar piastri, lando norris, liam lawson, arvid lindblad, ollie bearman, charles leclerc, max verstappen, alex albon
KIMI ANTONELLI
kimi.antonelli
liked by yourusername, yourbsfusername, and 1.2M others
kimi.antonelli summer break so far 🏄
mercedesamgf1 looks like fun 😎
user WHO IS THAT IN THE SECOND SLIDE
yourbsfusername who the hell is that
⤷ yourusername real Liked by creator
user is that his girlfriend?
⤷ user why do you guys think any girl he’s hanging out with is automatically his gf omg
⤷ user because they’re holding hands?
user HE LIKED A COMMENT FROM @ yourusername IS THIS THE GIRL?? ♥️805k
view all comments ..
GEORGE RUSSELL
georgerussell63 posted a story
liked by yourusername, alex_albon, and 1.63M others
georgerussell63 story has not been captioned.
user NOT ON MY SUMMER SHUTDOWN BINGO CARD BUT OKAY
user can’t even see their face but i love when hot people date hot people
user AWHHH
lando my invite got lost in the mail Liked by creator
⤷ alex_albon same
user i want a yacht so bad
user THIS IS SO CUTE
view all comments ..
OSCAR PIASTRI
oscarpiastri
liked by yourusername, opeightyone, and 1.81M others
oscarpiastri sweet looking summer
user i’m crine the second pic
⤷ user oscar piASStri ♥️822K
⤷ yourusername 😭
user there goes my 0.00001% chance.
user WHO COULD THAT BE??
lando ahhh i see Liked by creator
⤷ user jealous mf 😐
user NO. WAY.
user OSCAR PLEASE SHOW THEM
user oscar piastri breaking the internet with a SOFT LAUNCH WHATT
view all comments ..
LANDO NORRIS
lando posted a story
liked by oscarpiastri, maxverstapppen1, and 1.4M others
lando story has not been captioned.
user hey so he’s totally drunk
⤷ user right like theres no way this was on purpose 😭
user WHERE EVEN IS THIS
user IS THAT A GIRL??
⤷ user uh yes.
user WHOS THE GIRL LANDO
user @ oscar piastri and @ maxfewtrell tell us what you know RIGHT now.
view all comments ..
LIAM LAWSON
liamlawson30 posted a story
liked by arvid.lindblad, visacashapprb, and 130K others
liamlawson30 kachow
user liam and his love for cars never gets old
⤷ user real
user who is he with?
visacashapprb the best movie 🙌
user HOLD UP IM SO CONFUSED IS IT JUST HIM OR IS THERE SOMEONE ELSE WITH THE OTHER CAR?
⤷ user it’d be so funny if it was just him playing with toy cars
⤷ user i think its a partner
user this is the softest soft launch ever we don’t even know if it IS one. 🥲
view all comments ..
ARVID LINDBLAD
arvid.lindblad
liked by liamlawson30, yourusername, and 341K others
arvid.lindblad life
user hellooo second slide?
liamlawson30 sweet caption bro Liked by creator
user who is that!!
user is that the girl who was in the garage last sunday??
⤷ user I HOPE SO shes really pretty
user liam is so off topic lmao
view all comments ..
OLLIE BEARMAN
olliebearman posted a story
liked by yourusername, kimi.antonelli, and 187K others
olliebearman whichever one you want
user WHAAAA WHO IS THIS!!
user ollie has a gf?
user ‘whichever one you want’ GODDD THIS GIRL IS LUCKY. ♥️98K
f1gossipofficial 😳
user OLLIE BEARMAN SOFT LAUNCH OMG
view all comments ..
CHARLES LECLERC
charles_leclerc posted a story
liked by yourusername, georgerussell63, and 1.6M others
charles_leclerc ❤️
user just going to pretend i didn’t see this
user pretty view!!
user COULD THIS BE A RELATIONSHIP ANNOUNCEMENT??
georgerussell63 👏 Liked by creator
user george knows something we don’t UGHH
user bros acting like we don’t see this mysterious person RIGHT there on our screens. TELL USSSS
user IM SO HAPPY FOR HIM
view all comments ..
MAX VERSTAPPEN
maxverstappen1 posted a story
liked by lando, yourusername, and 1.33M others
maxverstappen1 story has not been captioned.
comments have been turned off for this story.
ALEX ALBON
alex_albon
liked by yourusername, georgerussell63, and 923K others
alex_albon grateful to be doing fun stuff with my favourite people. hoping to have a fresh mindset after summer shutdown ☀️
user oh.my.god ♥️520K
user ALBONITO FINALLY FOUND SOMEONE IM GONNA CRY
user lego rose dangggg
user whoever this is i need them at a race immediately.
user aa23 podium incoming
carlossainz55 😁😁😁
view all comments ..
ᯓ➤ a/n : thanks for reading! feel free to send requests on my page and let me know if there’s anyone else you want to see in these f1 grid react posts!
{ A/N- I hope you like this first part! ty to everyone who liked the masterlist post. hope I can meet expectations, Ive done lots of smau's in the past but the texts are new to me. getting this started was lowk hard but hopefully from now on it gets juicier 😋 }
liked by dr_ogilvie and others
y/nlovesyou kids at work keep calling me chopped... scared to ask if that's true.
view all comments
vic.javadi omg snoopy spoon 😍
y/nlovesyou @/vic.javadi best birthday gift EVA
franklang_ hope the coffee helped you during that crazy shift!
y/nlovesyou @/franklang_ sure did! tysm!
itstrinbtch calico cunts 5 eva
y/nlovesyou @/itstrinbtch 😘😘😘
denn_whit for context trin begged me to 'airplane' her before work to help with 'stress'
itstrinbtch @/denn_whit why did you put that in quotations? its therapy mandated smh
denn_ whit @/itstrinbtch since when do you go to therapy? doesnt seem to be working you should get a refund.
y/nlovesyou @/denn_whit be grateful we let you live with us
m.robinavitch What is chopped?
y/nlovesyou @/m.robinavitch oh unc 💔
m.robinavitch @/y/nlovesyou What's unc?
samimohan @/m.robinavitch stop your gonna give him an aneurysm 😭
+ luv ya! interaction means so much to me, if you feel so inclined my inbox is always open and i love reading comments <3
( also sorry for the mistakes mainly in mateos texts and some time inconsistencies with the texts, my ocd is going nuts but im not redoing this )
Summary: Winning passes to the Visa Cash App RB garage is the ultimate upgrade. But when a bold rookie spots you trying to explain the sport to your friend, he jumps at the perfect excuse to crash your lesson.
Author’s note: I loved writing this so much! Sorry if the text wasn't coming out before but I fixed it now! Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶
Word count: 8.3k
MASTERLIST - F1
@not.y/n
liked by not.y/n, sarah.b and 2,396 others.
not.y/n: After years of watching race weekends from my couch, I’m finally here with my bestie! 😝
view comments below
It was Arvid's first time at Silverstone with Visa Cash App RB and he was grateful to represent one of his countries, though the weight of the expectation felt like an extra ten kilograms of ballast in the cockpit.
He could feel the vibration of the engine rattling through his spine, a violent, mechanical hunger that demanded more than he was currently giving it.
The English countryside was a blur of manicured green and grey asphalt, a high-speed carousel where a single inch of miscalculation would send him spinning into the gravel.
Hours later, the adrenaline of the track shifted into the electric roar of the fan zone. Arvid felt a surge of warmth, not from the engine, but from the thousands of faces screaming his name as he and Liam stepped onto the F1 Drivers' Stage.
Walking alongside the Red Bull drivers, Isack and Max, the contrast in their stature was evident—the seasoned veterans versus the fresh-faced newcomers—but the crowd didn't care about the gap in experience.
They only cared that the new blood had arrived, and the cheers were so loud they seemed to vibrate in the very marrow of Arvid's bones.
He kept his shoulders hunched and his gaze fixed on the toes of his sponsors' sneakers, the sudden spotlight feeling less like a celebration and more like an interrogation.
He had spent most of the morning trying to blend into the paddock walls, terrified that one wrong word would expose him as an impostor in a world of titans.
But as he looked up and saw the sea of blue and red banners, the genuine, raw hunger for his success reflecting in the eyes of the fans, the knot in his stomach loosened.
He was still a rookie, a novice playing a game of millimeters, but the warmth of their acceptance acted as a catalyst, pushing him to straighten his back and offer a hesitant, genuine smile.
"The car is a beast, but we're learning how to tame it together," Arvid told the interviewer, his voice steadier than he felt. He began to lean into the questions, pivoting from nervous stammers to sharp, insightful observations about the track's evolving grip and the precise moment he felt the rear end step out at Copse.
By the time the microphone was pulled away, he realized the tremor in his hands had vanished. "If the veterans think the new blood is just for show," he added with a sudden, daring glint in his eye, "they might want to check their mirrors in the final sector."
He stepped off the stage and felt the sudden, jarring silence of the backstage corridor, where the roar of the crowd became a muffled hum.
The air here was cooler, smelling of ozone and expensive espresso, and for the first time, the paddock didn't feel like a maze designed to swallow him whole.
He caught his reflection in a polished chrome panel—the team's polo clinging to his chest, the focused intensity in his own gaze—and recognized a man who belonged in the cockpit, not just as a placeholder, but as a predator.
The silence of the corridor was interrupted by a burst of laughter from a small group of VIP pass-holders lingering near the hospitality entrance.
Arvid paused, his gaze landing on a woman who was gesturing emphatically toward a faded program in her friend's hand. "For the love of God, Sarah, look at the driver list! Charles Leclerc has been the face of Ferrari for years; he didn't just suddenly vanish from the grid," she exclaimed, her voice a melodic contrast to the sterile surroundings.
Arvid didn't know them, and he certainly didn't care about Sarah's lack of sporting knowledge, but he found himself rooted to the spot, struck by the way the sunlight caught the gold in the stranger's eyes.
She was breathtaking, possessing a raw, effortless beauty that made the surrounding glitz of the paddock seem dull.
"Listen, we can make this look like a 'Fan-POV' organic discovery piece," Arvid whispered, leaning closer to the team's social media manager, Marcus, while keeping a cautious eye on you.
"If you let me bring them back for a 'surprise' tour—exclusive access, behind-the-scenes grit—it'll blow up on TikTok. The contrast of a total novice like Sarah and a superfan like her against the high-tech garage? That’s the kind of human-interest content the sponsors crave. Just call it a random act of kindness for the fans."
Marcus hesitated, glancing at the strict security protocols, but Arvid pressed on, his voice low and urgent. "Trust me, the engagement metrics on 'authentic' encounters are peaking right now. You get the views, the team looks approachable, and I get to… well, it just feels like the right thing for the brand."
You can hardly believe you’re actually here, the weight of the VIP lanyard around your neck feeling like a golden ticket to a different dimension.
Winning the competition was a fluke, a statistical miracle, but standing inside the Visa Cash App RB garage is a sensory overload of carbon fiber and high-octane ambition. Beside you, Sarah is staring blankly at a set of heat exchangers, her expression one of profound confusion.
You spend the next ten minutes in a feverish rush, explaining the difference between a soft and a hard compound, the physics of the dirty air, and why the underfloor aerodynamics are the secret weapon of the current era, relishing every second of being the expert in her eyes.
"Wait, so the tires actually melt if they get too hot, but they need to be hot to stick?" Sarah asks, tilting her head as she finally looks away from the machinery.
You laugh, leaning in closer to point out the precise wear patterns on the discarded rubber in the bin. "Exactly," you tell her, your voice animated, "it's a constant balancing act between grip and disaster; if you push too hard into the turn, the tires just give up on you."
The surrealism of the afternoon peaks when you are escorted to the Paddock Club balcony, finding yourselves sandwiched between a legendary Hollywood actor and a tech mogul who owns half of Silicon Valley.
You and Sarah exchange a frantic, wide-eyed glance, acutely aware that you are both just eighteen-year-old university freshmen who should be worrying about introductory psychology midterms rather than discussing downforce with billionaires.
There is a dizzying disconnect between the luxury of the champagne-filled lounge and the reality of the student loan applications waiting back home, making the high-society chatter feel like a movie you've been cast in without a script.
Just as you were preparing to venture further into the restricted zones, a Visa Cash App RB staff member clutching a sleek smartphone approached you both with a practiced, professional smile.
"Excuse me," he said, glancing at the device. "The drivers are available for a few moments. Would you two like a personal tour from Arvid and Liam?"
Your heart nearly leaped out of your chest, and you began to stammer, your voice hitting a pitch only dogs could hear, while Sarah simply nodded with an eerie, composed grace.
"That would be lovely, thank you," she replied calmly, as if being offered a tour by F1 drivers was as mundane as a trip to the grocery store.
Before you could even process the shock, you were led through a maze of white tents and humming generators toward the hospitality room where the two pilots were waiting.
As you rounded the corner and caught sight of him, your breath hitched; you had always thought Arvid looked cool, but seeing him in person was a different kind of intensity.
Arvid and Liam were huddled in a low-voiced conversation, their heads close together, seemingly oblivious to the world until they finally pivoted toward the entrance.
The moment they looked your way, you became acutely aware of the social media manager hovering just behind you, his gimbal-stabilized camera aimed squarely at your face.
The lens felt like a predatory eye, magnifying every nervous twitch of your eyelids and the frantic pulse in your throat, and as Arvid stepped forward, his presence suddenly filling your entire field of vision, your mind went completely blank.
"Hi," he said, his voice a smooth, grounding rumble that snapped you back to reality.
You opened your mouth, but only a small, breathless sound came out, and you realized with a jolt of horror that you had completely forgotten to say your own name while he was standing mere inches away.
Liam let out a short, amused huff, leaning back against a sleek white countertop with a smirk that suggested he’d seen this particular brand of panic a thousand times before. "Easy there," Liam joked, his tone light but observant.
"We don't bite, though the engineers might if you touch their telemetry screens without permission." Arvid didn't laugh; instead, he kept his gaze locked on yours, a flicker of genuine curiosity replacing the polished PR mask he had worn on the stage earlier.
You swallowed hard, your voice finally returning, though it sounded thin and distant to your own ears. "I'm… I'm Y/N," you managed to stutter, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. "And this is Sarah. We're students. From London. Well, I am, she's from…"
You trailed off as Sarah gave a small, enigmatic wave, leaving you to scramble for a conversation topic that didn't involve your own sheer terror.
Arvid’s smile widened, not in a mocking way, but with a sudden, focused intensity that made the surrounding bustle of the hospitality suite fade into a dull blur.
"Y/N," he repeated, testing the weight of the name as if it were a new piece of technical data.
He turned slightly to Marcus, the social media manager, and gave a subtle nod of approval, though his eyes never truly left yours, suggesting that the 'organic discovery' he had plotted was working exactly as intended.
"Since we've already done the garage, let's show them where we actually hide when the press gets too loud," Arvid said, gesturing toward the sleek, towering structure of the team motorhome.
As they led you and Sarah inside, the atmosphere shifted from the industrial roar of the paddock to a hushed, climate-controlled luxury that smelled of expensive leather and eucalyptus. Liam pointed toward a row of customized racing seats that looked more like spacecraft than chairs.
"These are the driver's pods," Liam explained, sliding a hand over the carbon fiber. "This is where we analyze the data and pretend to listen to the engineers while actually thinking about what we're having for dinner."
Arvid let out a soft laugh, adding, "Or where I spend an hour staring at the telemetry of Copse, trying to figure out why the car decided to dance on its own."
Sarah seemed entirely unfazed, trailing her fingers along a polished surface and asking if the espresso machine was sponsored by a rocket company, which earned a genuine, startled laugh from Liam.
"So, Y/N," Arvid started, his voice dropping an octave as he stepped slightly closer, "you mentioned you're a student in London. What are you actually studying, or is F1 just a way to avoid your textbooks this weekend?"
He asked the question while looking directly at you, ignoring the fact that Sarah was currently trying to figure out if the racing seats were heated.
"Actually, I'm in my first year of psychology," you replied, your voice gaining a bit of strength as you felt the strange, magnetic pull of his attention. "But honestly, the textbooks can wait. Well, I've loved Formula 1 my whole life, so I took the chance with both hands to come here and to meet you."
You felt your cheeks flush as you realized how forward it sounded, but Arvid didn't recoil; instead, he seemed to lean into the admission, his pupils dilating slightly.
As the group began to move toward the telemetry room, the hallway narrowed significantly. Arvid stepped in front of you to lead the way, and as he did, his hand found the small of your back.
It was a light, fleeting pressure—barely a brush of his palm through the fabric of your shirt—but it felt like a live wire.
He used the tight space as a convenient excuse, guiding you forward with a subtle nudge that felt far too intentional to be accidental, while Liam and Sarah drifted a few paces behind, locked in a debate about the aerodynamics of a hairdryer.
"Psychology, huh?" Arvid asked, slowing his pace so that he was almost walking in sync with you. "Does that mean you're currently analyzing me? Tell me the truth—do I look like a nervous wreck or a calculated risk?"
You looked up at him, catching the way his expression softened. "A bit of both, maybe," you teased, your confidence growing. "The 'predator' persona on stage was a good touch, but the way you're glancing at the exit every few minutes suggests you'd rather be anywhere but in front of a camera right now."
"Is it that obvious?" Arvid asked, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper as he paused in a quiet alcove of the motorhome. "Most people just see the helmet and the sponsors and assume we're made of stone. But the truth is, the silence is the only thing that actually scares me."
"Then maybe the 'calculated risk' is admitting you're human," you replied, tilting your head as you studied the tension in his jaw. "Because for someone who wants to hide from the cameras, you seem remarkably focused on making sure I'm still paying attention to you."
Arvid shifted, his shoulders curving inward as he looked down at his sneakers, the bold predator from the stage suddenly replaced by a boy who seemed unsure of where to put his hands. "Is it that obvious?" he murmured, his voice barely audible over the distant thrum of the paddock.
"I'm not usually this… forward. I just felt like, for once, I didn't want to be the one being analyzed." He stole a quick glance up at you, his eyes flickering with a vulnerability that felt far more intimate than any scripted interview.
"I… I didn't mean to call you out," you whispered, your voice trailing off as you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, suddenly feeling the heat climb up your neck. "It's just that you have this way of… looking at people. Like you're trying to memorize them."
Arvid let out a soft, shaky breath, his gaze dropping to your lips for a fleeting second before snapping back to your eyes. "Maybe I am," he replied, his tone tentative, almost pleading, as the space between you shrank to a mere breath of air.
The fragile bubble of intimacy was abruptly popped by a loud, theatrical cough from behind you. You both jumped, spinning around to find Liam and Sarah standing there with their arms crossed, wearing identical expressions of amused skepticism.
"Am I interrupting a telemetry meeting, or has the 'calculated risk' finally paid off?" Liam asked, raising a suggestive eyebrow while Sarah leaned in, her eyes darting between the two of you with a knowing, mischievous glint.
Arvid cleared his throat, stepping back just enough to regain his composure, though his chest was still heaving slightly from the sudden proximity.
He tried to summon his usual poise, but the tips of his ears were a vivid shade of crimson that betrayed him completely.
"We were just… discussing the psychological pressure of the first corner," he lied poorly, his voice cracking slightly, which only prompted Liam to let out a loud, booming laugh that echoed through the sterile white hallway.
The sudden attention of the group, coupled with the realization that Marcus was still hovering nearby with the camera rolling, sent a wave of heat crashing over you. Suddenly feeling exposed, you retreated toward Sarah, subconsciously pulling your shoulders in as if to hide.
You fell into step beside her, pretending to be deeply interested in the way Liam was gesturing wildly toward the telemetry screens, desperately trying to fade into the background.
Sarah leaned in, her shoulder brushing yours, and whispered with a wicked grin, "Wow, look at you, blushing like a schoolgirl. I didn't know you had a 'type,' but apparently, it's 'brooding F1 driver with a savior complex.'"
Liam continued his tour with an infectious energy, pointing out the precise calibration of the steering wheel and the sheer madness of the G-forces, but you could feel Arvid’s presence like a physical weight behind you.
Even as he spoke to the group, his body remained oriented toward you; while his head turned to explain the brake ducts, his torso and feet remained angled firmly in your direction.
"So, Liam," you asked, stepping closer to the screen and narrowing your eyes at a jagged spike in the data, "when you hit the apex at Copse, are you fighting a snap-oversteer caused by the rear-end instability, or is it more of a gradual wash-out because the front wing is losing load under the rotation?"
Liam stopped mid-sentence, his hand freezing in mid-air. He blinked, his smirk faltering as he looked at you as if seeing you for the first time. "I… sorry, what? Where did a psych student learn about load loss during rotation?" he asked, his voice sounding genuinely bewildered.
Sarah leaned over, glancing at the complex graph and then back at Liam's bewildered expression. "She's basically asking if you're actually driving the car or just riding it like a passenger on a very expensive rollercoaster," she joked, nudging your shoulder with a mischievous wink.
Liam let out a loud bark of a laugh, shaking his head as he looked at Arvid, who was staring at you with an expression that hovered somewhere between shock and profound admiration.
"Wait, you actually understand the telemetry?" Arvid asked, his voice dropping the rehearsed PR tone and becoming something raw and curious. "Most people just ask about the speed, but you're talking about the rotation of the front axle under load. Where the hell did you learn to read a data trace like that?"
"My dad was a mechanic for a local karting circuit back home," you replied, leaning closer to the screen to point out the exact millisecond the line dipped. "He used to let me sit in on the debriefs when I was ten. He always said if you can't read the graph, you're just guessing where the grip is, and he hated guessing."
"Wait, so you've actually been analyzing racing lines since you were in primary school?" Arvid asked, his voice dropping into a low, focused register. "That's practically a crime. You've been hiding this kind of knowledge while pretending to be a bewildered tourist?"
"I didn't think it was relevant to the 'fan experience' tour," you teased, glancing up at him, only to find him standing much closer than before. "Besides, I figured the 'calculated risk' was more interested in my psychology degree than my knowledge of understeer."
"I'm starting to think the psychology is just a cover for a secret racing strategist," Liam chimed in, crossing his arms with a grin as he looked between the two of you. "Honestly, Arvid, if she can spot a load-loss rotation from a static screen, she’s probably better suited for the pit wall than you are on some Tuesdays."
Sarah let out a loud, delighted snort and nudged you hard in the ribs, pointing at Arvid’s wide-eyed expression. You couldn't help yourself, breaking into a fit of giggles at the sight of the normally composed driver looking completely flustered by a university student's technical prowess.
You and Sarah laughed together, the sound echoing through the sterile white corridor, while Arvid looked embarrassed, his gaze darting from the telemetry screen to the floor as he struggled to find a witty comeback.
"It's okay, Arvid, I won't take your seat yet," you joked, glancing over your shoulder at the customized carbon fiber bucket seat of his car, which sat waiting in the garage.
You gave him a playful wink, the tension between you shifting from nervous electricity to a sort of competitive chemistry. Arvid let out a short, surprised laugh, the sound genuine and light, as he finally found his footing, shaking his head in disbelief at your boldness.
He leaned back toward Marcus, who was still capturing every micro-expression for the social media feed, and let out a loud, theatrical sigh.
"I can't believe this," Arvid said, his voice projecting for the camera but his eyes locked firmly on yours. "We thought we were just doing a nice PR stunt, but it turns out we picked the craziest fan to give a tour to; she's probably trying to steal my telemetry data to start her own team."
The tour was winding down as the five of you walked back toward the hospitality suite, the atmosphere buzzing with Sarah and Liam's loud banter.
Just as you rounded a sharp corner near the service elevators, a firm hand caught your arm, pulling you back and halting your momentum.
You spun around, your heart hammering against your ribs, to find Arvid standing inches away. He pressed a finger to his lips, a silent command for secrecy, before sliding his hand into yours and guiding you away from the group and toward a narrow, dim corridor.
"Come with me," he whispered, his voice a low vibration that felt like it was echoing in your very marrow, "before Marcus realizes his 'organic discovery' is about to go off-script."
The corridor was narrow, smelling of old rubber and industrial wax, far removed from the sterile luxury of the main suite.
He didn't let go of your hand; instead, he laced his fingers through yours, the warmth of his palm anchoring you as he led you toward a small, secluded balcony overlooking the track.
The roar of the engines in the distance felt like a heartbeat, rhythmic and urgent, mirroring the sudden tension that crackled between the two of you in the sudden silence.
Then, as if remembering the dozens of cameras and prying eyes that governed his every move, Arvid dropped your hand.
"I'm sorry for kidnapping you from your friend, but the camera was really pissing me off and I could use you as an excuse to lose them," Arvid admitted, his voice dropping the polished facade of a public figure.
He leaned back against the railing, the sunlight filtering through the overhead canopy and casting sharp, dramatic shadows across his face.
You looked at him, seeing the subtle tremor in his fingers and the way he seemed to deflate now that the gaze of a thousand fans and a gimbal-stabilized lens had finally vanished. "Fair enough, I don't know how you guys can do it 24/7…. it sounds exhausting."
Arvid nodded and you joined him by leaning against the railing, the cold metal pressing through your clothes as you both looked out over the shimmering asphalt of the Silverstone circuit.
For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence between you heavy with the kind of anticipation that usually precedes a green light on the starting grid.
"Do you usually take your fans here, or am I the lucky one?" you asked, not looking at him, instead focusing on a distant marshal waving a yellow flag in the pit lane.
"This is the first and probably the only one after we get caught," Arvid replied, his voice barely a whisper as he shifted his weight, closing the remaining few inches between you.
"Then we should go meet them right? I don't want you to get in trouble," you said, moving from the railing to head back toward the group, but a hand stopped you, his fingers curling firmly around your wrist to pull you back into his space.
"For a psychology student, you really can't read the room," Arvid admitted shyly, his voice barely audible over the distant scream of an engine.
You paused, tilting your head in confusion as you tried to decipher the sudden shift in his energy. Then you looked closer.
His face was flushed, an almost red hue creeping up from his collar to the tips of his ears, and as he leaned in, you noticed his pupils were blown wide, nearly swallowing the iris.
He shifted his weight from foot to foot, fidgeting with the hem of his team polo and wiping a sudden sheen of sweat from his brow despite the cool breeze of the balcony.
The realization hit you like a physical wave: he wasn't nervous about the press or the race—he was nervous about you.
A hot prickle of embarrassment washed over you, and you let out a small, soft "oh" of discovery.
Arvid let out a shaky, self-deprecating laugh, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked everywhere but your eyes. "I'm sorry, this is probably the first time an F1 driver tried to flirt with you," he murmured, his voice cracking slightly as he tried to reclaim some shred of the confidence he’d projected on stage. "And based on your face, I'm doing a pretty terrible job of it."
You felt a sudden, daring surge of confidence, stepping back into his personal space until you could smell the faint, metallic scent of the paddock clinging to his skin.
You reached out, your fingers grazing the fabric of his sleeve, and looked up at him with a crooked smile. "Actually," you whispered, "the vulnerability is way more effective than the 'predator' act. It's a much better strategy."
Arvid froze as you reached up and casually adjusted the collar of his polo, your fingers lingering just a second too long against the warmth of his neck.
He looked as though he’d been hit by a sudden surge of G-force, his breath hitching in his throat and his eyes widening in genuine shock.
He had spent the last hour trying to maintain a shred of control over the interaction, but in one simple, tactile gesture, you had completely dismantled his composure, leaving him momentarily speechless and staring at you as if you were the most unpredictable variable in his entire race weekend.
The silence stretched between you, thick with an honesty that no PR script could ever capture. Arvid looked away, his gaze drifting toward the distant horizon of the track before snapping back to your eyes with a sudden, raw intensity.
"I really thought you were beautiful, so I made an excuse to give you a tour," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper and stripped of all pretense.
You laughed, the sound light and genuine, breaking the heavy tension that had settled over the balcony.
It wasn't a mocking sound, but one of sheer amusement at the idea of a world-class athlete, used to battling the most dangerous corners in the world at two hundred miles per hour, being completely undone by a girl who knew a little bit about tire wear and psychology.
"You're a terrible liar, Arvid," you teased, your voice softening as you stepped back just enough to give him air, though you didn't let go of the tension between you. "The 'organic discovery' for the sponsors? The 'human interest' content? You just wanted a reason to talk to me without a camera in your face."
Arvid let out a breath he seemed to have been holding for minutes, a small, crooked smile finally breaking through the remnants of his nervousness. "Guilty as charged," he murmured, his gaze dropping to your lips and then snapping back to your eyes with a sudden, renewed focus.
He didn't move away; instead, he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a register that felt like a secret shared in the middle of a storm. "But for the record, the strategy worked. You're still here."
The moment was shattered by the distant, distorted crackle of a walkie-talkie from the corridor and Marcus's muffled voice calling out for them, sounding increasingly impatient.
A sudden jolt of adrenaline hit you, and you realized with a dizzying rush that you were currently tucked away in a blind spot of the paddock, completely alone with an F1 driver.
"What do you want to do?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper as you looked from the distant call of the social media manager back to the raw, expectant look in Arvid's eyes.
"Well, I didn't kidnap you not to get your number," he joked, though the playful glint in his eyes was underscored by a desperate kind of hope.
He reached into the pocket of his racing trousers and pulled out a phone, holding it out with a hand that still trembled slightly, the screen glowing white against the dimming light of the balcony.
You took the device, your fingertips brushing his as you typed in your digits, the small contact of skin-on-skin feeling like a final confirmation of something neither of you had dared to name.
You handed it back, noting how he stared at the screen for a heartbeat as if he were verifying a winning lottery ticket before slipping it back into his pocket with a satisfied sigh.
Before he could find the words to invite you back, you leaned in and pressed a quick, soft kiss to his cheek, feeling the heat of his skin radiating against your lips.
"Wipe it off before Marcus sees and thinks you've had some kind of allergic reaction to the excitement," you whispered with a playful grin, glancing back toward the corridor where the search party was likely closing in.
Arvid stood frozen, his eyes wide and his breath hitching as he instinctively touched the spot where your lips had lingered, a look of utter bewilderment crossing his face.
He looked like a man who had just experienced a sudden loss of traction at three hundred kilometers per hour, completely blindsided by the sudden shift in momentum.
"Y/N! Arvid! If you've eloped, please just let us know so we can update the press release!" Liam's voice boomed from the end of the hallway, followed by the rhythmic clicking of Marcus's gimbal as the camera rounded the corner.
Arvid quickly straightened his posture, though the dazed, smitten expression remained etched into his features as he stepped back to lead you toward the light.
He paused for a split second, glancing back at the secluded nook and then at the bewildered look on Marcus's face. "Sorry about that, we just got lost," Arvid lied with a sudden, newfound confidence, throwing a casual arm over your shoulder to guide you back into the flow of the group.
He used the excuse of the confusing motorhome layout to mask the lingering scent of your perfume on his collar, his thumb tracing a small, hidden circle against your arm that only you could feel.
As the walk back to the main paddock continued, the air seemed to vibrate with a different kind of energy, the professional distance between driver and fan having dissolved into something far more precarious.
You walked in a comfortable silence, your shoulder brushing his with every step, while Sarah kept shooting you knowing looks that suggested she had seen every single micro-expression of the last ten minutes.
By the time the five of you finally stepped back into the plush, white-walled sanctuary of the hospitality suite, Marcus was already repositioning his lighting for the final shot.
Liam stepped center-frame with a mischievous grin, leaning in toward the camera as Arvid slid in beside him, his arm still draped loosely and possessively across your shoulders.
"Alright, that's a wrap on the exclusive behind-the-scenes look!" Liam announced to the lens, his voice booming with theatrical energy. "Now, for the moment of truth—Y/N, Sarah, on a scale of one to ten, how would you rate the tour? Be honest, or Arvid might actually cry."
Sarah didn't hesitate, giving a thumbs-up and a laugh that suggested the chaos of the afternoon was a ten out of ten.
You felt Arvid's gaze shift from the camera to you, his eyes searching yours for an answer that had nothing to do with the garage or the telemetry screens.
You leaned toward the microphone, a playful glint in your eyes as you caught the way his grip on your shoulder tightened slightly. "The technical side was a solid eight," you teased, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial hum, "but the personal guidance? That definitely earns a bonus point."
The video cut and Sarah was thanking Liam for the tour while Marcus began packing away the gimbal, his movements efficient and detached.
The artificial bubble of the 'content shoot' burst, leaving the five of you in a sudden, heavy silence that felt far more honest than the noise of the crowd.
Sarah’s voice drifted over the sound of the receding crew, but your focus was entirely on the way Arvid was looking at you—no longer as a driver to a fan, but as a boy who had just discovered something he wasn't prepared to let go of.
"Do you… do you actually think the bonus point was…?" Arvid started, his voice barely a thread, his gaze dropping to the polished floor.
He shifted his weight, his fingers twitching against the seam of his trousers as he struggled to find the words. "I mean, if you were just being nice for the camera, I probably wouldn't… it's just that the way you said it sounded… real."
The suddenness of his vulnerability caught you off guard, the confident facade of the "predator" from the stage now completely replaced by a boy who looked like he was holding his breath for a signal that might never come.
You reached out and gently caught his hand, your thumb grazing the back of his knuckles in a slow, rhythmic motion.
"Arvid, look at me," you whispered, waiting until he finally lifted his eyes, his pupils wide and searching. "I don't do 'nice for the camera'—I'm a psychology student, remember? I'm far too observant for that."
"Oh," he breathed, the word barely a ghost of a sound. He looked away for a split second, his voice dropping to a hesitant, fragile register that made the bustling paddock around you feel miles away.
You giggled before leaving, "i'll text you before the race," as you stepped back from him, the distance between you feeling like a physical ache the moment you broke contact.
You gave his hand one last squeeze, a silent promise that the chemistry you'd sparked in the shadows of the motorhome wasn't just a fluke of the adrenaline.
"Come on, let's get out of here before the crowds swallow us whole," Sarah said, hooking her arm through yours and steering you toward the exit.
As you walked with Sarah back to the garage to retrieve your bags, she didn't even let you speak before leaning in with a predatory grin. "So, are we just going to ignore the fact that you basically just seduced the next big thing in Formula 1, or are we going to talk about how he was looking at you like you were the only person in the entire stadium?"
"I don't even know what happened," you admitted, your voice breathless as you felt the ghost of his touch still lingering on your skin. You leaned your head against Sarah's shoulder, the adrenaline finally beginning to ebb, leaving behind a dizzying sense of disbelief.
"One minute I'm explaining tire compounds, and the next, he's taking me to a secret balcony and looking at me like… well, like I actually mattered."
"Did he actually give you his number, or did you just imagine the part where he looked like a lost puppy?" Sarah asked, her eyes dancing with mischief as she practically skipped toward the luggage area.
"Because if you're lying, I'm claiming the bonus points for myself, and if you're telling the truth, you've officially won the weekend without even needing a ticket to the final lap."
"He did, and for the record, he was the one who was nervous," you replied, glancing back over your shoulder to see Arvid still standing by the motorhome, a solitary figure amidst the chaos of mechanics and engineers. "He’s not exactly the 'cool, collected' type when the cameras aren't rolling, which is honestly the most surprising thing about the whole day."
The walk back to the garage was a blur of neon colors and the scent of burnt fuel, and just as you retrieved your belongings, you and Arvid found yourselves side-by-side once more.
You settled into a quiet corner of the garage, the air thick with the rhythmic thrum of air guns and the frantic energy of the final preparations, and as you turned toward the monitor, the drivers' parade started as you watched on the screen.
Seeing him there, waving to the crowd with that practiced, professional smile, felt like watching a different person entirely—the public face of a rising star, while you held the secret of the shaking hands and the whispered confessions.
Afterwards, the drivers headed to their final debrief to review the strategy one last time before disappearing into their private rooms to change into their race suits.
As you waited by the hospitality entrance, you felt the vibration of your phone and quickly typed out a message.
“Don’t let the nerves get to you out there. Just remember the 'calculated risk' part. Good luck, Arvid,” you sent, watching the three dots appear almost instantly.
His reply was short but breathless: "I've got the best kind of luck on my side today. See you later."
The tension in the paddock shifted into a heavy, electric silence as the engines began to scream in unison, a primal roar that vibrated through the very soles of your shoes.
You watched from the pit wall, your knuckles white as you gripped the railing, tracking the blue-and-yellow blur of the RB car as it sliced through the air at Copse.
Every time he braked late into a corner or danced the car on the edge of the gravel, your heart hammered against your ribs, not out of fear, but out of a sudden, terrifying understanding of the stakes he played for every single Sunday.
When the checkered flag finally waved, the roar of the crowd drowned out the telemetry, but you didn't need the big screens to know the result.
He had secured 3rd place, a staggering achievement for a rookie that represented the best score of his career and a seismic shift in the team's standings.
The paddock erupted into a frenzy of celebration, the engineers screaming into their headsets as Arvid’s car slowed, the blue-and-yellow livery dusted with the grit of a hard-fought battle.
You were screaming with Sarah in the garage, the two of you clinging to each other in a chaotic blur of adrenaline and sheer disbelief as the roar of the fans surged through the open bays like a tidal wave.
Your voice was gone, replaced by a raw, throat-tearing cheer that competed with the high-pitched whine of the cooling engines, both of you jumping in synchronized frantic energy as the telemetry screens flashed his final position in bold, triumphant digits.
"I can't believe he actually did it, Y/N, he actually pulled it off!" Sarah yelled over the noise, her face flushed with a reflected victory.
You didn't answer immediately, your eyes locked on the monitor where Arvid was climbing out of the cockpit, his movements slow and heavy with exhaustion, the helmet still obscuring his face but his body language radiating a sudden, violent release of tension.
Despite the euphoria, you felt a sudden, grounding chill as you watched the swarm of PR agents, engineers, and eager journalists descend upon him like a pack of wolves.
You knew the machinery of a podium finish; the immediate debriefs, the mandatory weighing, the endless cycle of flashing bulbs and rehearsed quotes that would stretch well into the night.
You knew it would be a long time before Arvid would have time to breathe, let alone find a quiet moment to reach for his phone and text you.
While the team celebrated in the inner sanctum of the garage, you drifted toward the fan-zone barriers, letting the adrenaline settle into a warm, buzzing glow.
You spent the next few hours immersed in the electric camaraderie of the crowd, swapping theories about the final lap with a group of Swedish fans who had flown halfway across the world to see him.
By the time the sun began to dip, you had exchanged Instagram handles with a few fellow psychology students who had also won the competition, turning a whirlwind of professional chaos into a genuine circle of new friends who were just as shell-shocked by the day's events as you were.
"Do you think he's actually going to remember us in the middle of all that champagne and flashing lights?" Sarah asked, leaning her head against your shoulder as you both walked toward the parking lot, her voice sounding tired but satisfied.
You looked down at your phone, the screen still dark, the silence of the device contrasting sharply with the lingering roar of the engines. "He'll remember," you replied, though a small, cautious knot of doubt tightened in your stomach.
"Arvid doesn't do things by halves; if he can handle a three-hundred-kilometer-per-hour slide into a hairpin, he can manage a text message."
Your phone suddenly buzzed, the vibration jarring against your palm.
It was a message from Arvid: “Please tell me you haven't gone home yet. I can't deal with the PR people for another second. Meet me in my garage? I'll make sure the security lets you back in.”
You stared at the words, a small, triumphant smile tugging at your lips. The "predator" was officially off the clock, and he was calling for a rescue.
Sarah caught a glimpse of the screen over your shoulder and let out a low, dramatic whistle. "Oh, you have got to be kidding me. He’s literally a podium finisher and he’s already acting like a lovestruck puppy," she remarked, stepping back and beginning to veer toward the ride-share area.
"Look, I love a good romance, but I am physically exhausted and my feet are killing me. You’re on your own for this one—go get your man, and just make sure you text me every single detail tomorrow morning. I'm going home to sleep for a decade."
As you waved her off and turned back toward the paddock, the atmosphere had shifted from the chaotic noise of the race to a heavy, expectant stillness.
The crowds were thinning, leaving behind a trail of confetti and discarded programs that crunched beneath your sneakers. Passing through the security gate felt like crossing a border into a private world, the silence of the cooling engines creating a strange, cathedral-like hush.
Your heart began to race again, not from the adrenaline of the track, but from the anticipation of seeing him without the helmet, without the cameras, and without the weight of the world on his shoulders.
You navigated the labyrinth of the garage, weaving past stacks of carbon-fiber winglets and rows of pristine tool chests, until you spotted a slumped figure tucked away in the shadow of a towering pile of Pirelli softs.
"Got you," you whispered, reaching out to tap his shoulder. Arvid jumped, nearly slipping off the tire wall, but as his gaze cleared and landed on you, a look of pure, unfiltered relief washed over his face.
You opened your arms wide, and he didn't hesitate, lunging forward to pull you against him; you melted into the hug with a long, shuddering sigh, your head resting against the cool fabric of his team kit while the scent of Nomex and sweat clung to him like a second skin.
He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes bloodshot from the exertion of the race but shimmering with a quiet intensity.
"I thought they'd never let me get away," he murmured, his voice raspy and stripped of the polished confidence he'd used for the press. "Every time I tried to slip out the back, some journalist would appear out of thin air asking about my sector three times. I think I actually started hallucinating the sound of your voice over the team radio."
You laughed softly, the sound echoing in the cavernous, empty garage, and reached up to brush a stray lock of brown hair from his forehead.
For a moment, the prestige of the podium and the roar of the thousands of fans felt like a distant, irrelevant memory, leaving only the two of you in the dim light of the paddock, caught in the fragile space between a public triumph and a private longing.
"I… I didn't know if you'd actually come back," Arvid murmured, his voice dropping to a hesitant, fragile register as he looked down at his shoes, his fingers nervously picking at the velcro of his racing suit.
You shifted your weight, suddenly feeling the familiar prickle of shyness return, your voice barely a whisper as you replied, "I told you I'd text you… though I didn't think you'd actually be hiding behind a pile of tires."
He let out a small, self-conscious chuckle, glancing at you through his lashes, and for a few seconds, neither of you knew where to put your hands, the electric tension between you thickening into a heavy, sweet silence.
"I know the way today went though, this probably feels weird and sudden—" Arvid ranted, his words spilling out in a hurried, anxious rush as he finally looked back up at you. "The podium, the cameras, the whole… 'organic' thing with Marcus. I just don't want you to think this was all some PR stunt or that I'm just riding the high-"
"Arvid," you interrupted softly, the shyness making your voice tremble just enough to match his. "Stop thinking for a second."
You stepped into his space, the air between you humming with a different kind of frequency than the race track, and leaned in to press a lingering, tentative kiss against his cheek.
He froze, his breath hitching in a sharp, audible gasp, and for a heartbeat, he looked like he might actually forget how to breathe, his face flushing a deep, vivid crimson that put his team colors to shame.
"I… I didn't think you'd actually…" he started, his voice cracking slightly. He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck with a clumsy movement, a small, hopeful smile tugging at his lips.
"You're not… you're not just being nice because I got a trophy, are you?"
You felt a soft giggle bubble up in your throat, your own gaze dropping to the scuffed toes of your shoes as you murmured, "Maybe the trophy helped, but you're the one who's actually a calculated risk."
Arvid let out a nervous, airy chuckle, the sound echoing softly in the hollow garage. "Would you want to go out tomorrow then? With me, of course," he asked, his eyes flickering back to yours with a tentative, hopeful intensity.
You felt your heart hammer against your ribs, the shyness returning in a wave. "Where to?" you asked softly.
Arvid opened his mouth to answer, but he paused, his expression blank as he realized he hadn't actually thought this far ahead. "Umm… the skatepark?" he finally suggested, his voice sounding uncertain.
You beamed at him and replied, "Okay! I've never been to any skate park or rode a skateboard before," which earned a surprised, genuine grin from him.
The prospect of a skatepark felt absurdly grounded compared to the high-velocity glamour of the paddock, and the contrast made the moment feel even more real. He reached out, his fingers tentatively brushing against your wrist, a silent request for connection that felt more honest than any podium celebration.
"I can teach you," he whispered, "or we can both just fall over together."
You laughed, the sound filling the space between you, and for the first time that day, the noise of the outside world—the PR agents, the telemetry, the crushing weight of expectations—felt completely irrelevant.
As the security guard gave a distant, impatient shout from the garage entrance, reminding Arvid that his debrief was still pending, he didn't move to leave immediately.
He stayed anchored in your space, his gaze lingering on your face as if trying to memorize the exact shade of your eyes in the dim light. He stepped back slowly, his hand sliding away from yours with a reluctant hesitation, leaving a cold void where the warmth had been.
"I'll text you the time," he promised, his voice regaining a hint of that "predator" confidence, though the blush on his cheeks betrayed the boy who had just been rescued from a pile of tires.
"Wait, are you actually a good skater, or is this just another 'calculated risk' where you're hoping I won't notice you falling?" you teased, stepping back toward the garage exit.
"Hey, I have a very high center of gravity and a lot of balance," Arvid retorted with a playful scoff, though he was already imagining the sheer chaos of trying to balance a novice on a board. "Just don't expect me to catch you every single time you wipe out—though, knowing me, I probably will."
"Is that a challenge?" you asked, crossing your arms and tilting your head. "Because if we're talking about risk management, I think my psychology degree gives me a strategic advantage in predicting exactly when you're going to lose your balance."
He laughed, a genuine, unburdened sound that didn't belong in a press conference, and for a moment, the gap between a global sports star and a university freshman vanished entirely. . . .
@not.y/n
liked by not.y/n, sarah.b, arvid.lindblad and 5,746 others.
summary: the public tries to make sense of the relationship you and max share with oscar. some say you’re cheating on max with oscar, others say max is the one cheating with him. you say let the world keep guessing. the only people who deserve to know the truth about the special relationship you three have with each other are those closest to you.
pairing: max verstappen x reader x oscar piastri
fc: madelyn cline
request: Can I order a byob (established relationship) and a host special with Maxcar + reader poly?? Maybe with guilty as sin playing in the background 👀 - @prozacandprosecco
warnings: cheating allegations • misunderstandings • fluff • attempts at humor • likely a mistake or two • time skips • bending the f1 schedule to my will for shits & giggles
vicious speaks: how do i join someone else’s relationship? on a more serious note, i completely fell in love with this couple and it is going to be so hard letting them go 🥲 who knows, maybe i’ll come back to them again in the future, expand on The Great War™️ if anyone wants that 👀
tea party masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫ .
liked by maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri and others
yn you do not wanna know what i had to promise in order to get these two out of their team kits and into normal clothes 🥲
view all comments
maxverstappen1 😏 ♥︎ by author
oscarpiastri and we will be cashing in on said promise!
⤷ yn oh, i bet 😉
⤷ ynmaxcar 🤨
fan oh ynmaxcar i will never be able to form a solid opinion on you
fan this friendship will always feel so random to me lmao
fan my faaaaves
f1gossip 👀
fan yn: this is my boyfriend max and his boyfriend oscar ♥︎ by author
⤷ fan NOT HER LIKING THIS HELLO
fan was that promise a threesom-
⤷ fan SCREAM
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫ .
texts from the love triangle (but better) gc
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫ .
liked by f1wagsoffical and others
f1gossip Excuse me, sir? Who has you looking like that? 👀
view all comments
fan no cause i could’ve sworn i heard a woman laughing
fan is he hiding a girlfriend???
fan i’d pass out if i was on the receiving end of that look 😮💨
fan whoever it is has him so blushy omg
fan is this the beginning of his soft launch era?
fan where is deuxmoi when you need her
⤷ fan 🙄🙄🙄
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫ .
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫ .
yn has added to their story
♫ The Blue Nile ・The Downtown Lights
caption: trying to sweat off our hangovers 🥲
likes and replies
maxverstappen1 liked your story
maxverstappen1 can’t wait to see you guys tonight ❤️
⤷ yn we’re so excited!!
nicolepiastri liked your story
fan i’m here for it 😌
victoriaverstappen liked your story
fan did you mean to post this to your close friends? 😭
alexandrasaintmleux liked your story
fan bring back shame
logansargeant liked your story
fan odd way to get caught cheating
flavy.barla liked your story
fan hot.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫ .
maxverstappen1 has added to their story
caption: home ❤️ oscarpiastri yn
likes and replies
oscarpiastri liked maxverstappen1’s story
oscarpiastri finally ❤️ ♥︎ by author
yn liked maxverstappen1’s story
yn missed you sooo much 😚
⤷ maxverstappen1 missed you more, baby ❤️
ediepiastri liked maxverstappen1’s story
fan umm…😭
charles_leclerc liked maxverstappen1’s story
fan do you not know that they’re having an affair or do you just not care?
sophiekumpen liked maxverstappen1’s story
fan OH. i think i get it. and i’m obsessed 😌
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫ .
race weekend
liked by yn and others
redbullracing Did someone say something about heart eyes? 😍
view all comments
fan haha that’s funn-REDBULL RACING?!
fan what do you guys know…
fan admin i hope you don’t lose your job for this
fan cheating with his girl and then smiling in his face is CRAZY
fan plot twist: oscar’s cheating with both of them
⤷ ynmaxcar double plot twist: they’re a throuple
⤷ fan yeah, sure 🙄
fan they way he looks at him omg <3
fan ynmaxcar would make a hot couple why lie
fan yn in the likes…so shameless
fan oscar ‘heart eyes’ piastri strikes again
fan i want whatever tf they’ve got going on
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫ .
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫ .
texts from the love triangle (but better) gc
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫ .
liked by f1gossip and others
f1wagsofficial Yn has made it to the paddock!
view all comments
fan is she there for max or oscar lol
fan SHE’S SO HOT
fan she’s so unbothered
fan there are rumors she’s cheating with oscar, rumors MAX is the one cheating with him, and rumors that all three are dating each other and she doesn’t gaf about any of it 😭 #myqueen
fan this weekend is gonna be so entertaining
fan who invited the cheater 🫠
fan looking good 😍
fan i might not know what’s going on but i do know she looks good
fan guys have we considered the fact that whatever’s currently going on with her, max, and oscar is none of our business?
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫ .
liked by redbullracing and others
yn belgium, you were real 🖤❤️💛
view all comments
oscarpiastri best part was having you with us 🧡
⤷ maxverstappen1 what he said ❤️
⤷ yn ilysm 🫰🏼
fan gorgeous girl 💞
fan love when hot ppl date each other
fan i’m sorry for thinking you were crazy ynmaxcar
⤷ ynmaxcar forgiven
fan ya’ll got room for one more? asking for a friend 👀
hattiepiastri had so much fun judging oscar’s outfit with you
⤷ yn no cause wtf was that monstrosity 😭
⤷ oscarpiastri it’s called fashion!
⤷ yn osc…
f1wagsofficial this is the closest to a confirmation we’re gonna get i fear
fan i guess you guys are kinda cute…
⤷ maxverstappen1 we’re really cute ♥︎ by author, oscarpiastri
Maybe they can finally be un-doomed in this universe? It's still somewhat of a Modern AU but I found hilarious the idea of making them have a date at Disneyland Paris lol. Our studio isn't really far from Disneyland actually!
The first winter we worked on Dragon Striker, we had an outing there to celebrate. Unfortunately I was super sick so I didn't go... 🥹
(I have to confess I did this drawing for Valentines 2024 hence the winter clothing, but it felt soooo fitting so I'm repurposing it here )
