Smart girl
Max Verstappen x race engineer!reader
Warnings: Hate/Sexist comments
Summary: At only 21 years old, you have to navigate being a race engineer for Isack Hadjar while his teammate hates you or love you. You aren't really sure.
Max hated you.
You were Isack Hadjar’s race engineer replacement for the rest of the season when his main race engineer had to take a break for family issues.
And the Red Bull driver hated you for a reason you couldn’t understand.
—--
It started in the pre-season when you were simply backing Richard Wood. You were following him everywhere with your little notebook and your heels which often made people laugh.
“She doesn’t have it in her.” A pit lane crew said once you walk past him. You ignored him like you ignored every other insult thrown at you.
“She’ll crumple under the pressure in seconds.”
“She’s too young.” Those were Max’s words and he made sure you heard them well. You refused to acknowledge him but it did hurt more than the others.
You were just trying to do your job.
You tried to keep your head high and just work, work, work. You asked Woody a million questions, worked until 2am and rewatched some old race in which the strategy was perfect to understand them clearly.
Australia was a disaster to say the least, Hadjar didn’t finish and you couldn’t help but blame yourself. It was a hard weekend for redbull and it felt as if everyone was blaming you.
In China, you and Richard worked on the strategy for hours, just trying to find something that would make the car finish.
You made a last minute change that helped Hadjar finish a place higher and you wanted to tear up of happiness. It was your first real call that actually helped a driver. When he saw the checkered flag for the first time this season, you hugged Richard while Max Verstappen was watching from afar.
He barely finished in Australia and wasn’t able to complete the China race. But he wasn’t able to tear his eyes off from you, your shaking hands when you would request a risky call and your smile when it worked.
After the race, you got up while shoving all your notebooks into your backpack, trying to make sure it all fit.
“You’re learning fast.” Your engineer says. “You’re making better calls now.”
“Thanks Woody.” You smile and make your way to GP.
You always tried to get the perspective of him after every race. He was a smart man and you had so much respect for him as an engineer.
“Hey Y/N !” He smiles at you, inviting you to sit down in front of him. “You were great out there today, you should be proud.”
“Thanks GP.” You said while getting all your notes out and explaining them to him to get his opinion on a few of your calls but also Woody’s one.
Being a good engineer was understanding your driver and your car but also every other car that was around him during that exact moment. Everything could influence everything.
It took two hours for you to understand all of his opinions and the plan he had for Max. You even managed to get in a few of your opinions to him that he actually approved.
Max watched for more time that he would admit. He hated you but god your smile was addicting, and the passion for strategy was evident in your eyes. Your hands were gesturing and your eyes focused on GP and his computer for two hours without ever looking bored.
Maybe Max hated how passionate you were about something so complicated. Maybe he was jealous that at such a young age, you understood F1 race strategy when it took him years to understand what GP was asking of him.
He never dared talk to you, he always told himself it was because you were working for another driver. Always told himself it was because he didn’t care at all for you or about you even.
—--
Richard Wood was out for the Canadian GrandPrix. You learned it only a few days out and you were made the main engineer by him. He had a family emergency and wasn’t able to answer calls and texts for at least a few months.
You had a panic attack when you first heard it.
At 21 years old, you weren't ready to be the only voice the driver would hear during his race. You weren’t ready to make the strategy alone, or basically alone.
You barely slept, passing every hour you possibly could in the Redbull garage. The strategy was ready at 5 in the morning of raceday which wasn’t ideal but it was all that you could provide.
Your eyes were begging to close but you simply took a shower and drove to the paddock. You needed to prove yourself and this was a gold occasion to do so.
You prayed while driving to anyone that this would work, that this strategy would not be a disaster and that you wouldn’t look like an absolute fool in front of thousands.
Max watched you during media day, sprint and qualifying.
He watched your anxious self that was always pacing around. Watch how you almost cried when Hadjar went to the third qualification. Watch how shaky you were minutes before your driver entered his car.
He didn’t comment and you didn’t even notice his eyes always following you around.
He had the right to watch, right ?
You were making noise around the paddock being not alone the youngest ever race engineer but also the first woman who would do it. The media loved to talk so much, you had to delete social media for that weekend so you would not lose your mind at their stupid and sexist comments.
You were able to talk to Isack before the race and then you put the headset on and muscle memory kicked in.
The race was doing fine and your voice was steadier every time you talked. The pit stops were going according to plan and Isack was driving fabulously.
He secured P5 and the shock was so intense that you simply stared at the computer in front of you for minutes before realizing that you didn’t mess it all up. You were alive, your driver was alive and in points.
Life was great.
The noise around you was quieter but the media never really stopped.
Max secured P3 which means that he had more media to do than Isack. You had the television opened in front of you while debriefing with GP the race when a question catched both of your attention.
“Max, do you believe that Isack could’ve podium if his race engineer wasn’t a woman ?” The question was shocking because no one dared to actually speak about the criticism you received. Every insult was quiet, every insult was always on the internet so people could hide their face.
“I am not answering this question.” His voice was stern, his expression neutral. “She did an amazing job at making sure that Isack was competing at the highest level he could and I’m tired of seeing narrative online bashing on her when she is doing something no one else ever did or could do.”
He lowered the microphone, signaling to the journalist that his answer was done and final.
You watched and listened from GP’s office.
“I thought he hated me.” You simply said, looking at the engineer in front of you.
“I thought he hated you too, I guess we were both wrong sweetie.”
—--
You were now preparing for the race in Monaco but you had a little task to do before anything else.
You entered Redbull garage but this time, you walked over to Max’s side.
“Do you know where Verstappen is ?” You questioned the first person you saw.
“Probably in his room.” The mechanic answered, you smiled and walked over there.
“Max ?” You knocked on his door.
He opened the door and just stared at you.
“Hi ! I just wanted to thank you for defending me in the media.” You were looking him in the eyes trying to look confident enough, but you were rambling and there was no denying it. “It was really sweet and I respected you for defending women in F1.”
You saw Max's mouth open to answer you and immediately turned around and left. Your walk was closer to a run and that left Max completely shocked, mouth opened.
You locked yourself into Richard's office that was temporarily yours and immediately buried yourself in work to forget the interaction.
What did you even think of trying to thank a four time world champion.
—--
Max went to the only person he could trust in the paddock for advice, Lewis Hamilton.
He entered the Ferrari garage and walked to him without wasting any time.
“I have a question but you need to keep your mouth shut about it after, okay ?”
“Yeah sure mate, what is it ?” Lewis was smiling but he knew that privacy was important. He wouldn’t do that to Max.
“If a woman came to thank you for something you did but after she talked, she didn't even let you time to say something before she left so fast it looked like she was running in heels.” He explains, fully serious. “Is that a sign that she hates me ?”
“I mean, the fact that she thanked you is a really good sign but she left so.” Lewis thinks for a while which only stresses Max more. “I would say just from that moment, that she maybe likes you but she’s nervous for sure mate. I mean you are intimating for sure.”
Max nods his head, soaking the information in. He was never really good at reading people’s emotions or their body language. “Thank you Lewis, I needed that.”
Max gets up and hugs Lewis quickly. He needed to find a way to confirm that you liked him so he could ask you out.
He wasn’t normally shy but you were, and if he didn’t want to do one thing was to scare you.
—--
Your race strategy was done and admirable for Monaco and you were definitely comfortable talking to Isack at any time now.
You watched qualification next to your new assistant and validated everything with GP. Nothing was perfect or as good as Woody but the progress could be seen by a blind.
You watched the whole race, commenting often and offering support through the radio. You had tears in your eyes when he crossed the finish line third.
You had just helped your first driver podium and you couldn’t feel prouder. You watched the podium with the whole team and cheered so loud when his name was pronounced.
The celebration was intense and you finished absolutely drenched in champagne. Your hair was clinging to your shirt and you needed water as you entered the garage to find anything to drink that had no alcohol.
You didn’t even have time to take a few sips of your water that you were face to face with Max. Your eyes met his and you smiled.
“Hi”
“Hi yourself, smart girl.” The praise slipped through his lips like it was normal, like it was a nickname that you always had.
You fumble the water bottle because of those stupid, attractive words. “I’m sorry for your race, the car just never really was there.”
“It happens.”
You nod your head and it simply felt as if you were too much in the room. “I won’t bother you much more, I just needed some water.” You laugh awkwardly, not knowing how else to fill the silence.
“You don’t bother me Y/N.” He said it so calmly, so confidently.
Your brain froze and for the second time, you turned around and left. For a smart woman, you definitely couldn’t read the room at all.
Maybe you didn’t run this time, but the urgency was definitely the same and Max saw it without needing the help of Hamilton.
“A win is a win.” He whispered to himself.
—--
When you walked in the paddock for preparation in Barcelona, you had a bouquet of lilies on your desk with a note.
You're doing great, don’t listen to anyone who tells you otherwise - Verstappen
You simply glued the note to your computer and started working.
The media pressure around you had finally started to calm down and people were now used to seeing your face in every meeting.
You weren’t the young intern anymore, you were indispensable.
Max still watched you with as much admiration but now you were holding back the eye contact and smiling back. The only thing that your brain knew how to do without messing up lately.
And before Isack climbed in his car, you had your usual check up with him and good luck speech.
But you also stopped in front of Max’s car and patted his helmet.
“Good luck out there.” You simply said, tapping his helmet three times.
“Good luck, smart girl.” He said and closed his visor up with a click.
You walked away to sit down next to your crew and tested the radio sound.
Your mind was focused on the racing ahead but your heart was the one racing in your chest. You were in too deep now.
—--
After the race and the P6 by Hadjar that was respectable, you started packing your things and cleaning up your desk.
It was late and you were tired to say the least. A knock on your door and then the door opening could be heard and that made you turn around.
You faced Verstappen who had changed and looked ready to leave.
“Where are you going after this ?“ He questioned.
“What are you talking about ?” Those words left before you could realize how rude they may sound, but you were confused.
“Sorry, my jet is leaving in a few hours and maybe you would like a lift to Monaco instead of the public plane.” He explains it like it should be obvious, like he is proposing to you a cup of coffee and not a private lift back home to you in a jet.
“I wouldn’t want to bother.” That answer was automatic, you never wanted to be of too much in someone’s plan.
“Then I invite you as my friend there, please.” He insists, begging with his blue eyes.
“When is the plane leaving ?”
“In four hours, smart girl.” He answers finally with a smile once he understands you’ll be there.
“Fine but you are paying my taxi Verstappen.” You giggle out, putting on your heavy backpack full of paper and reports on your back, ready to leave.
“It’ll be my pleasure.”
—--
After that, you were clearly friends with him. He bought you coffee every morning, lifted you to the paddock back and forth and you would always tap his helmet before every race.
You call it habit, he called it luck.
The pressure to perform as not only a race engineer but also a woman was always there but the weight wasn’t so heavy on your shoulders anymore.
Or maybe the weight didn’t change but your shoulders did.
Your analysis of every situation was doing better and you were even able to give a few tips to GP in which you teased him about for days. You were comfortable around him but around anyone in a Redbull uniform now.
It all changed in Madrid in which Max Verstappen not only won but Isack Hadjar also secured P2 making it a 1-2 Redbull podium.
It was also Isack's highest place yet this season with you as his engineer.
Redbull Racing team decided that you were the one deserving of the constructor award during the podium ceremony even when you declined it multiple times.
You climbed to your small step up and cried when your national anthem was sung. You thought of all the people that doubted you, you thought of the times in which you doubted yourself to do this.
The ceremony was like in slow motion, they handed you your trophy and you lifted it in the air to the cheers of the crowd. This was a win for you but also for every woman watching.
The champagne got everywhere and Max decided to target you as you laughed trying to spray it towards someone at least.
You hugged Isack so hard he couldn’t breath and smile with all your teeth for the pictures.
Those memories would never leave your head as you stepped down and walked away, following the drivers.
Max waited to walk you to your office as he shuffled your champagne wet hair.
“You are great out there, you know.” He pronounces with pride.
“Thank you Maxie.”
Max didn’t hesitate, not anymore.
“Is this okay ?” He asked just to confirm he wasn’t imagining things.
“Please”
It didn’t take much for Max’s lips to be on yours in a hungry, passionate kiss.
His hands were in your hairs, yours were on his neck trying to pull him impossibly closer. He broke the kiss, leaning his forehead against yours.
“Can you go on a date with me Y/N ?” He asks, looking straight at you and ignoring all the flashing camera sounds.
You were still in front of a big crowd but neither his or your ears could hear anything other than your ragged breathing and his begging voice.
“I would love to, Max Verstappen.”
