Scripted Hearts - You’re an actress known for staying out of the headlines, so when Max Verstappen’s PR team asks you to fake date him for a publicity boost, you expect a clean, controlled arrangement, but the more time you spend with him, the more you realise he’s nothing like the version the world thinks they know. (Requested)
In Sickness and Seating Charts - You and Max are supposed to be planning your wedding together, but lately it feels like you’re the only one who really cares and it’s starting to feel awfully lonely doing it by yourself.
Back Home Again - After a quiet breakup and years of co-parenting, Max thought he’d made peace with losing you. But when your kids start talking more about your new boyfriend, he starts to wonder if it's really too late, or if he still has a chance to bring his family home. (Requested)
Close Protection - When you're assigned to protect one of the most high-profile drivers in Formula 1 you're told to stay invisible. The real challenge isn’t the logistics or the growing security threats it’s that Max, grumpy and guarded, starts letting you in, and the more that happens the harder it becomes to draw the line between protection and something far more personal. (Requested)
When You Know You Know - Max didn’t believe in fate, or soulmates, or love at first sight... and then you walked in and ruined all of it. (Requested)
The Lion and The Flame - You joined a beginner’s boxing class to rebuild after a breakup. He’s the undefeated underground fighter who never loses, but you knock the wind out of him anyway.
Now You’re All Set - All packed, all planned, all undone by one kiss. (Requested)
Fifteen Minutes Too Late - While you're left standing in the rain waiting for Max to pick you up, his ex posts a story from his passenger seat. Part 2
Close Enough to Burn - Touch-starved and quietly unraveling, you keep letting Max in, hoping one day he won’t stop at almost. (Requested)
All The Time We Need - When the fear of growing older leaves you spiralling, Max reminds you that time isn’t running out not when you have forever together. (Requested)
Six Rookies and a Baby - Saint-Tropez: one yacht, six rookies, and a baby on the way. What could possibly go wrong? Part 2 (Requested)
You’re Alright, I Promise - When you bleed unexpectedly during sex there’s a moment of panic, but Max remains calm and gentle, staying with you through it all. (Requested)
More Than Perception - As the only female driver on the grid every move you make is blown out of proportion. So you’ve learned to keep your distance, especially from your teammate Max. But how long can you keep him out when he’s trying so hard to get in? (Requested)
Trouble - You’re Charles Leclerc’s little sister. Off-limits. A little reckless. A little too flirty. Max has always called you trouble, usually while keeping a watchful eye on anyone who got too close. But now he’s the one looking at you like that, and suddenly trouble doesn’t sound like a warning… it sounds like something he can no longer resist.
Only You Know - You’re both world champions, both each other’s greatest rival. And yet the only person who’ll ever understand you… is the one you swear you hate. (Requested)
Never In Doubt - You watch him become a champion, remembering every moment from karting to now, every high and low, every time you told him he’d get here, knowing you believed in him all along. (Requested)
If You Let Me Go - He’s chasing a championship. You love him too much to stand in the way. (Requested)
Just Hormones Right? - You’re pregnant, emotional, and exhausted, and a careless comment from Max during an argument leaves you wondering if he really understands what you’re going through. (Requested)
We Were Something Don't You Think So? - Six years ago Toto Wolff’s daughter disappeared from the paddock and from Max’s life. You were once inseparable, the paddock’s favourite duo. Then you vanished without warning. Now with your sudden return all eyes are on you and everyone wants to know: what really happened between you two… and why now? Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / (Complete)
Off Key and All Yours - A karaoke bar, a terrible duet, and an “I love you” you never saw coming. (Requested)
Starstruck - Max swore no celebrity could ever faze him. Then you walked into the paddock and suddenly, he’s blushing, stuttering, and everyone on the grid is trying to play wingman. Part 2 / (Requested)
Always Almost Yours - He was your best friend. The boy you grew up with. The boy you loved in silence. Now that his relationship is over and he finally sees you, really sees you, you’re already halfway out the door. (Requested)
Give Me a Chance - Max has always been a playboy, fast cars, faster flings. You’ve always been his best friend. Falling for him was risky… but loving him? That’s where it gets dangerous. Because what if you’re just the next chapter in a story that always ends the same?
What If I Get It Wrong? - Max was never afraid of anything, but fatherhood? That’s a different kind of terrifying. As the two of you prepare for your first child, Max is protective, terrified, and completely in awe, and you watch the man you love fall headfirst into fatherhood. (Requested)
In Every City, It’s Still You - After weeks of hiding your fears that Max cheats on the road, your confession leaves him heartbroken that you think so little of his love. (Requested)
Ghost Laps - What starts as Max teasing you over sim racing attempts turns into a secret mission to impress him. Alternate Scene (Requested)
All This Time - Max was your first everything, first friend, first heartbreak. Now years later he’s world champion, and you’re standing in front of him like no time has passed at all. (Requested)
Home Was Always Here - You were too young then, but years later co-parenting your daughter together in the public eye might finally bring you home to each other. (Requested)
Waiting Game - You’ve been in love with Max for years, silently watching him date the wrong girl, until walking away makes him finally realise you were the one all along. (Requested)
Still in the Race - After a disastrous penalty in Spain, Max comes home expecting anger, but finds comfort instead.
Just Breath - Max finds you in the middle of a panic attack and helps you through it, refusing to leave your side. (Requested)
In Every Beat - After sudden pregnancy complications threatens everything you and Max cling to each other through the fear. (Requested)
Something Like a Crush - Twelve years after the infamous 'inchident', you’re still trying (and failing) to pretend you don’t have a crush on Max Verstappen. (Requested)
You Belong With Me - Max never believed in soulmates until he met you. The only problem? You’re already dating Lando. Somewhere along the way, between late-night calls, inside jokes, and everything in between, you and Max became best friends. He tells himself it’s enough. That the friendship is worth the ache. But as your connection deepens, Max starts to wonder if maybe, just maybe, you feel it too. Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 (Complete)
All Over You - Touch has always been your love language, until one overheard conversation makes you question everything. When you start to pull away Max realises just how deeply he’s come to need it.
Crash Into Me - After a crash lands you in the hospital Max finally says those three words he's been holding in far too long.
When You Come Undone - Overwhelmed and unraveling, Max holds you together like it’s the easiest thing he’s ever done. (Requested)
The Chores of Champions - Max battles his greatest challenge yet... surviving laundry lessons.
Breaking Point - Your rivalry with Max Verstappen is legendary, but behind your fierce performances a chronic condition is slowly wearing you down. When Max starts to uncover the truth he has to decide, win the title at all costs or protect the one person who may have come to mean more than it.
Call Me When You Break Up (role reversal) - You’re with the wrong person, and Max knows it. So do you. He won’t ask you to leave but he’ll be here, hoping, aching, waiting. Just… call him when you do.
Call Me When You Break Up - Max is in the wrong relationship, and you both know it. But knowing isn’t choosing, and you’re done waiting.
Yours in Ink - Max has always claimed you as his, now it’s written in ink.
The Hardest Goodbye - Max is about to leave for the first leg of the season, taking him to the other side of the world. You know it’s part of the job, but it doesn’t make saying goodbye any easier.
Lessons in Jealousy - You’ve been in love with Lando as long as you can remember, but to him, you’re just his best friend. Enter Max your longtime frenemy who offers to help make Lando jealous. But as Lando finally starts to notice you, you wonder if you were chasing the wrong heart all along.
No Strings, No Feelings, No Problem - Friends with benefits was easy, lying to yourself is the real challenge.
Red Roses - Valentine’s Day Special
The Bet and The Fall - Max starts dating you on a bet never expecting to fall for you, but as your relationship grows he must confront the fallout of his careless gamble. (Requested)
Lost in the Spin - A night of celebration spirals into scandal when compromising photos surface leaving Max trapped in a media storm, battling rumours, and desperately fighting to prove his innocence to the woman he loves.
Lost in the Spin - Part 2 - Max refuses to let rumours rewrite your love story.
Knight of My Heart - After one too many drinks, a protective Max arrives right when you need him most.
A Fine Line - Forced to fake date for PR, you and Max who can barely stand each are pushed into close quarters at a high-profile wedding. But somewhere between stolen glances, and sharing one bed, you both start to realise that maybe some feelings can’t be faked after all. (Requested)
Home is Where the Heart is - You’re very excited to redecorate, and Max is absolutely smitten.
From P17 to You - After a legendary drive through the rain in Brazil Max realises that some things are worth risking, and this time he’s ready to risk it all. (Requested)
The Price of the Podium - In the relentless pursuit of racing glory, Max faces the fallout of missing an important weekend in his relationship, leaving your future uncertain.
The Price of the Podium - Part 2 - Overwhelmed by regret after months of heartbreak, Max shows up at your family gathering uninvited, determined to win back your heart. (Requested)
Too Many Kisses - Max showers you with kisses after a race much to your embarrassment.
The Weight of Words - As Max consoles you through another heartbreak, unspoken feelings linger in the air.
Between The Laps - It’s your rookie season in F1, and you’ve been paired with reigning world champion Max Verstappen. Tension brews, chemistry simmers, and as the season unfolds, rivalry turns personal and dangerously close to something more.
Five More Minutes - Max refuses to let you start the day, keeping you tangled in the sheets and even tighter in his arms.
Igniting The Fire - You start a petty argument with your boyfriend because you’re feeling just a little too needy.
Not Over Yet - In the heat of a painful argument you declare that your relationship with Max is over, leaving him desperate to hold on.
What We Never Said - Max has always been your constant, your best friend. But when jealousy over your recent date flares, it forces him to confront feelings he’s long ignored .Is there more between you two than just friendship?
Revved Up - Max grows jealous after your Instagram post attracts unwanted attention, including from an ex.
Under The Radar - The strain of secrecy begins to weigh on a hidden relationship.
Headcanons
Ex!Husband Max / Part 2
Camgirl!Reader x Obsessed!Max - 2/3/4/5 - TBD
Lando Norris
Just a Friend - You told yourself it was fine. Friends with benefits. No labels. No mess. But when he calls you “just a friend” in front of the whole paddock, you realise that maybe you were never playing the same game. (Requested)
Just Another Valentine - Every year you and Lando spend Valentine’s Day together as part of an unspoken tradition, but this year something feels different, something that is impossible for you to ignore.
18.07.2026 Belgian Grand Prix Post-Qualifying Press Conference
A question to Max about the energy management. Can you describe a little bit more about the worst parts of the track? What is it like doing a qualifying lap with these cars on your favorite track?
Max: I mean for most of Sector 2 you run just on the engine, so what is that 450, 500 horsepower? Something like that, which is I guess less or more or less what a Formula 3 car has, but with F1 downforce, so you can imagine of course that that is not very exciting to drive. But honestly I don't want to sit here and complain again because probably someone will shoot me outside the door, but you know, like I said before, I'm mentally just adjusting to it and I'm trying to make the best out of it. Even though of course it's not what I like, not what I love to do in Formula 1. But yeah, I can also sit at home and drive nothing, but that also doesn't do anything. So I'm just trying my best.
You became a father last year. I did too, in September. You're having a special first child. Everyone always says that. It changes a lot in your life. Yes, but it is true, isn't it? How has that changed you? Because for me, it has had a gigantic impact on my life.
Max: Yes, I already had a stepdaughter, of course. And that was from her first year, so to speak. Yes. So I’ve already experienced a lot, so to speak. And because of that, I think it was, so to speak, less shocking. Because ultimately, in our family, in our daily life, nothing really changed. (...) Of course, the very first for me. But yes, in terms of daily life and how we did things, so to speak, that was already the case now. Yes, you furnished an extra room for her. And of course, that first year of life is perhaps a bit harder to sleep in. And a bit more complicated. But generally speaking, it went pretty smoothly.
Maybe it isn't incredibly hard on a weekend like that? You were away for eight days last month, and that gets worse and worse, doesn't it?
Max: Yes, fortunately, you can FaceTime, of course. But for example, you sometimes get videos. And I have my own room now where I keep, let's say, my cups and helmets and my simulators. And she already knows that that is my room. So every time she goes there now, because she can walk now and she opens that door. And then it's like, 'Papa, papa.' But yeah, he's not there, of course. And then I get that video forwarded to me. Then you do think…
It breaks your heart a little bit?
Max: Yeah, then you do think, 'Shit. Yeah, do something.' Yeah, that is a bit less nice to see, of course. Then you naturally always try to get back home as quickly as possible.
Do you both have that, by the way? Maybe a question for you both. I want my children to race. You don't have any yet. You (Max) have a daughter now. Would you like that?
Max: I always say no. I hope they don't do it. But on the other hand, you know, if you then.. well, boy or girl, it doesn't matter. But when you see that they are doing everything they can. To make it a success. You see, of course… First of all, they need to have talent. If they don't have talent, (...) Then you might as well stop immediately. And I think I would always be reasonably clear about that. You do have to be honest… I think that is, of course, quite difficult as parents. To be honest with your own child. But you just have to assess it clearly. But if she were to have talent, and she works hard enough for it, for example. Then… Yes, why not? Then you’re not going to hold her back either. And on the other hand, I just hope she chooses something she naturally enjoys. Naturally, you support her fully in that.
Heyy could I request something ? I got this idea from a video I saw where the guy said he didn’t want to wear the wedding ring because it felt uncomfortable. Maybe Max tells reader this and the reader gets upset and kinda does the same to provoke him ?
Thank you 🌷
A Matter of Principle
Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader
Summary: Max says his wedding ring doesn’t matter in order to symbolise your love, but when yours disappears too Max learns that jealousy has a way of making symbols feel very real.
5.2k words / Masterlist
Max stopped wearing his wedding ring so casually that at first you thought he'd simply forgotten it.
You noticed it over breakfast, his left hand wrapped around a mug while he scrolled through something on his phone, his thumb moving absently across the screen. The pale band of skin around his finger was still there, a faint outline where the ring usually sat, but the gold itself was missing.
“Where’s your ring?” you asked.
He glanced down at his hand as though he hadn’t noticed until you pointed it out.
“Upstairs I think.”
“You think?”
“On the bedside table.” Max took another drink, entirely unconcerned. “I took it off last night.”
You waited for him to explain, but he returned his attention to his phone, forehead creasing at whatever message he was reading. You told yourself there was nothing unusual about it. He sometimes removed it when he trained, and once or twice he’d forgotten to put it back on before leaving the house, although usually he noticed within an hour and sent you a message about it.
This time, however, the ring remained on the bedside table.
It was still there when he left for the factory the following morning. It sat beside his watch, placed neatly on the dark wood rather than abandoned carelessly, which somehow made its absence from his hand feel more deliberate.
“You’ve forgotten this again,” you said, holding it out to him as he came back into the bedroom to retrieve his wallet.
Max looked at the ring, then at you.
“I didn’t forget.”
Your fingers slowly curled around it. “You’re not wearing it?”
“No.” The answer came too quickly, without the sheepish smile you had expected, and something unpleasant tightened beneath your ribs.
“Why not?”
Max sighed, already sensing that the conversation was becoming more serious than he believed it needed to be. He stepped closer and placed his hands on your waist, rubbing his thumbs over the soft fabric of your jumper as if affection alone would smooth the concern from your face.
“It’s uncomfortable, it catches on everything,” he explained. “Especially when I’m driving or training. I keep noticing it and I don’t really like wearing jewellery anyway,” flexing his fingers as though the ring had been causing him some terrible physical hardship rather than a faint inconvenience.
“You’ve worn it for nearly two years.”
“Yes and it’s annoyed me for nearly two years.”
You stared at him but he just smiled, trying his best to make it sound harmless. “Not because it’s our wedding ring… just because it’s a ring.”
“It never seemed to bother you before.”
“It did. I just didn’t say anything because I knew you would take it personally.”
“I’m not taking it personally.”
“You are.”
“Well you never said anything.”
“Because I knew you'd be upset.” His answer came too easily. You looked at him for several seconds, waiting for some awareness of how unhelpful that confession was, but Max merely took a small step back.
“So you knew it would hurt me, and you decided to do it anyway.”
His expression tightened. “That’s not what I said.”
“It’s very close.”
“I just told you.” Max lifted one hand to your cheek. “It has nothing to do with you. I love you. I am married to you. I am completely committed to you and a ring does not change any of that.”
“It represents it.”
“To other people maybe.”
“To me.”
His hand fell away from your face and he looked briefly frustrated, although he tried to conceal it. Max had never understood attaching enormous significance to objects. He cared about actions, loyalty and the things that existed privately between you, the parts of your marriage that did not require an audience. To him the ring was a symbol of something he already knew with complete certainty and symbols had always mattered less to him than facts.
The fact was that he loved you.
The fact was that he came home to you.
The fact was that he had stood in front of everyone who mattered and promised that there would never be anybody else for as long as he lived.
He didn’t understand why a narrow band of gold should carry more weight than all of that.
“It doesn’t make me more married when I wear it,” he said carefully. “And taking it off doesn’t make me less married. You know that.”
“I know.”
“Then what are you asking?”
“I suppose I was asking you to care that it means something to me.”
Max’s expression faltered, but only briefly. He stepped back towards you and placed both hands on your waist again, drawing you close despite the stiffness in your body. His voice softened as he kissed your forehead, evidently believing the affection should reassure you more effectively than any further discussion.
“I care about everything that matters to you,” he murmured. “But I think you’re taking this personally when it has nothing to do with you.”
You pulled back enough to look at him. “You keep saying that as if it helps.”
“It should help. I love you.”
“I know.” you repeated
“Then trust that.”
You did trust it. That was almost the most irritating part.
It’s not like Max was trying to appear single. He wasn’t ashamed of you, nor was he concealing your marriage from anybody. He spoke about you constantly, often without realising he had done it, he’d developed a habit of beginning stories with my wife even when your marital status had absolutely no relevance to what followed. There was no hidden intention behind his decision as far as you could tell.
Still, it hurt.
Perhaps because you remembered how he’d looked at the ring on your wedding day, turning your hand beneath the light with a tenderness that had made your chest ache. Or maybe because he’d spent weeks before the ceremony pretending not to care about the design only to privately contact the jeweller three separate times to ensure the engraving was exactly right. Possibly because after the wedding you’d caught him looking down at his own hand with a small, private smile, as though the ring proved something he’d once been afraid he would never have.
It had meant something then.
You didn’t understand why it suddenly meant nothing now.
“I don’t want to argue before you leave,” you said, placing the ring back on the bedside table.
Max studied your face. “Then don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like I’ve hurt you.”
You gave him a thin smile. “You should go. You’re already late.”
He kissed your forehead before leaving, lingering for a moment as though reluctant to end the conversation there, but he still left the ring behind.
Over the next week you tried to let it go. You reminded yourself repeatedly that he hadn’t changed. There no secret motive for you to uncover, no suspicious behaviour hiding beneath his decision and no sudden reluctance to acknowledge your marriage. Max spoke about you constantly, often with an unmistakable pride that made even strangers aware of how thoroughly his life had rearranged itself around you. He introduced you as his wife when everybody in the room already knew who you were, kept photographs of you tucked into places he thought you’d never noticed and called you after almost every meeting, flight or race because he seemed to measure the passing of his days by when he could speak to you again. He still reached for your hand beneath restaurant tables, and he still pulled you against him in his sleep as though even unconsciousness made him possessive of the space between you. He continued to behave exactly like your husband.
He simply did it without looking like one.
Other people noticed.
His mother asked whether his fingers had swollen from training. One of the mechanics jokingly asked if he’d already lost it. A journalist’s gaze dropped conspicuously towards his hand during an interview before she carefully rephrased a question about how married life was treating him.
Max answered every comment with the same calm explanation.
He didn’t like jewellery.
The ring was uncomfortable for his style of work.
It did not mean anything.
You smiled whenever somebody looked towards you for reassurance, unwilling to admit that each repetition made the irritation beneath your skin burn a little hotter.
The final push came at a sponsor dinner in Monaco.
You were standing beside Max while he spoke with a group of executives, only half following the conversation as you watched a woman at the edge of the group look him over. She was subtle about it, but not subtle enough. Her attention lingered on his face, his shoulders and then, predictably, his bare left hand.
Her smile changed.
She stepped closer.
You watched her direct questions exclusively at him, laugh too brightly at comments that were not particularly funny and touch his forearm while making a point. Max remained oblivious, answering politely and occasionally glancing towards you, but he didn’t move away from her touch until he saw your expression.
Then he shifted immediately, placing a hand at the small of your back and drawing you closer.
“This is my wife,” he said, although you’d already been introduced.
The woman looked briefly embarrassed. “Of course.”
Max’s hand remained firmly against you for the rest of the conversation.
In the car afterwards he glanced towards you several times before eventually saying, “You’re quiet tonight.”
“I’m tired.”
“You’re annoyed.”
“I’m apparently always annoyed now.”
“She knew I was married.”
“After you told her.”
Max frowned.
“She looked at your hand, saw no ring and thought she could try.”
“And then I told her you were my wife.”
You turned towards the window. “Exactly.”
He exhaled sharply through his nose. “You’re making this into something it’s not.”
“I— I, maybe.” You stuttered slightly, and then looked back out the window.
The ease of your agreement made him suspicious, but he decided to let it go as you said nothing else.
The following morning you removed your wedding ring.
You didn’t announce it, you didn’t leave it pointedly on his side of the bathroom counter or place it somewhere he would be forced to notice. You simply slipped it from your finger while getting dressed and put it inside the small jewellery box in your wardrobe.
For the first few hours Max didn’t realise. He kissed you goodbye, left for a meeting and sent you two irritated messages about traffic. When he returned home in the afternoon he found you in the kitchen arranging flowers that had been delivered earlier that day.
He walked behind you, wrapped both arms around your waist and kissed the side of your neck.
“Who sent these?”
“The foundation.”
“For what?”
“The charity dinner next week.”
He reached around you to examine the card, and his gaze fell upon your hand.
His entire body went still.
You felt the change immediately, although you continued trimming the stem of a flower.
“Where’s your ring?”
The question sounded remarkably similar to the one you’d asked him a week earlier, except there was none of your tentative confusion in his voice. Max sounded sharp, alert and instantly displeased.
“In my jewellery box.”
“Why?”
“It was uncomfortable.”
He released you slowly. You could almost feel him arranging his response, separating what he wanted to say from what he was allowed to say. When you finally turned around, his jaw was set and his eyes were fixed on your bare finger.
“Your ring has never been uncomfortable. You’ve taken it off because I stopped wearing mine.” Max sighed frustrated.
“I thought you said it didn’t matter.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
“Perhaps it’s annoyed me for years and I never said anything because I knew you would take it personally.”
His gaze lifted to yours. “You’re doing this to prove a point.”
“I’m just doing the same thing you are.”
“No you aren’t.”
“Why does the reason matter if the ring doesn’t? How is it different?”
“Because you like wearing yours.”
“You don’t get to decide whether I like wearing it.”
“I know you like it.” His voice tightened. “You play with it when you are nervous. You touch it whenever somebody asks about the wedding. You never take it off unless you’re showering or sleeping.”
“Maybe I changed my mind.”
“You didn’t change your mind. You’re trying to irritate me.”
You returned your attention to the flowers, choosing another stem. “Why would it irritate you? A ring doesn’t make me more married, and taking it off doesn’t make me less married. You know I love you. You know I’m committed to you. I shouldn’t need jewellery to prove that.”
Max stared at you in silence.
Hearing his own reasoning returned to him should have ended the argument. Instead, it seemed to make something darker and more complicated move behind his eyes.
“I don’t like it,” he said eventually.
You tried not to smile. “That sounds personal.”
“It is personal.”
“Interesting.”
“Put it back on.”
You looked at him then, unable to conceal your disbelief. “You cannot be serious.”
“I am serious.”
“So you can decide that you don’t want to wear yours, but I have to wear mine because you’ve told me to?”
“I didn’t tell you that you had to.”
“You just said, ‘Put it back on.’”
Max looked increasingly frustrated, not with you so much as with the fact that he had walked directly into a trap constructed from his own words. He rubbed a hand across his mouth, glancing again at your empty finger.
“You’re my wife.”
“And you’re my husband.”
“I know.”
“People can’t tell that when they look at your hand.”
“I’ll tell them.”
“And I’ll tell them,” you shot back quick.
“That’s not the point,” The words escaped before he could stop them.
Your eyebrows rose. “No?”
Max closed his eyes briefly.
He knew he was being hypocritical. He knew every argument he wanted to make could be dismantled with something he’d already said to you, and more importantly, he knew you knew it too.
You waited, but he had nothing else to offer. He couldn’t admit that the sight bothered him without giving validity to everything he’d dismissed, and he was too proud to concede the argument when he still believed his original reasoning made sense.
“All right,” you said eventually. “Then it shouldn’t be a problem.”
The following days became a quiet war.
Neither of you wore your ring and neither of you mentioned it. Max’s discomfort however, became increasingly obvious.
At dinner with friends he watched the waiter smile at you for a little too long while describing the specials. When you thanked him, Max’s hand immediately settled possessively on your thigh beneath the table. At a party an acquaintance you’d met only once before touched your elbow and asked whether you were attending alone. Max appeared at your side before you could answer.
“No,” he said, sliding an arm around your waist. “She’s here with her husband.”
The man blinked. “I didn’t realise.”
You pressed your lips together to hide your amusement.
Max did not find any of it amusing.
Without your ring every innocent interaction seemed to catch his attention, he noticed men looking at you in bars, strangers finding reasons to start conversations and old friends becoming slightly too familiar. Most of them likely would have behaved exactly the same way had the ring been there, but Max no longer had that immediate, visible claim to comfort himself with.
It made him restless.
It also made him clingy.
His hand rarely left your waist in public, he introduced you as his wife with unnecessary frequency. He kissed you more openly, sometimes in the middle of conversations, and stood so close behind you that the front of his body remained pressed to your back.
You knew precisely what he was doing.
He was replacing the symbol he had dismissed with constant physical reminders that you belonged together.
The hypocrisy was so obvious that you expected him to surrender.
Instead, the disagreement became something neither of you could address without reigniting the original argument. Max refused to wear his ring, and you refused to wear yours, while both of you quietly resented the other for making the same choice.
The situation finally broke at the next race weekend.
A set of images from a sponsor dinner appeared online showing you and Max standing several feet apart during a conversation. In one photograph his bare left hand was visible and in another, so was yours.
The speculation began almost immediately.
Most people dismissed it, but enough accounts repeated the suggestion that your marriage might be in trouble for the rumour to reach journalists. A reporter asked Max about it during a media session, disguising the question as casual concern.
Max’s face hardened instantly.
“My marriage is fine,” he answered.
The journalist began to clarify, but Max interrupted.
“It’s more than fine. My wife and I are very happy and there’s no story.”
When he came back to the hotel that evening, he was furious. You were sitting on the sofa when he entered, his phone clenched in one hand. He tossed it down on the table and began removing his jacket with agitated movements.
“They’re saying we separated.”
“I saw.”
“We could’ve released something.”
“A statement announcing that our marriage is intact but neither of us likes wearing jewellery?”
Max looked at you sharply. “This is not funny.”
“I don’t think it’s funny.”
“They’re saying you’ve moved out.”
“I’m sitting in our hotel room.”
“They don’t know that.”
You held his gaze. “You can tell them.”
The reminder of his own words made his jaw clench.
“I did tell them.”
“Then there shouldn’t be a problem.”
“There is a problem when thousands of people think my wife has left me.”
“Why do you care what they think?”
“I don’t care about them.”
“Then who?”
Max turned away, pacing towards the window before facing you again.
“I care that somebody might believe you’re available.”
There it was again, the truth he kept revealing in pieces without ever allowing himself to examine it fully.
“You know I’m not.”
“That’s not the point.”
You stood slowly. “That’s exactly what you said to me.”
“I know what I said.”
“Do you?”
“Yes, and I still believe it. I know you’re committed to me. I know a ring doesn’t change that.”
“But you hate other people not knowing.”
Max didn’t answer.
“You hate the possibility that someone might look at my hand and think there’s space for them in my life,” you continued. “You hate having to explain that I’m your wife after they’ve already approached me, and you hate that people are looking at photographs and questioning whether our marriage is secure.”
“Obviously.”
The answer was quiet, but it came without hesitation.
“That’s how I felt when you took yours off.”
“It’s not the same.”
Your frustration finally broke through. “Why do you keep saying that?”
“Because I didn’t take it off to hurt you!”
“And I didn’t take mine off to make people think I’d left you, I took it off because you made me feel foolish for caring about it.”
Max stopped. You had said versions of the same thing before, but never so directly. His anger faltered as he looked at you.
“You treated the ring like it was meaningless,” you said. “You made me feel shallow.”
“I never said you were shallow.”
“You kept telling me that your love should be enough, as though wanting the symbol as well meant I didn’t trust you. I never thought you were going to cheat on me. I never thought you wanted to look single. I only wanted you to understand that it meant something to see you choose to wear it.”
Max’s eyes lowered towards your hand.
“And when you refused,” you continued, your voice less steady now, “I started looking at mine and feeling stupid. Every time I wore it beside you, it felt as though I was publicly claiming something you’d decided was too inconvenient to acknowledge in the same way.”
“That’s not what I was doing.”
“I know… logically I know, but it’s how it made me feel.”
He came closer, but you stepped back before he could touch you. The movement seemed to wound him more than anything else you’d said.
“I need some air,” you murmured.
“It’s late.”
“I’m going downstairs, not leaving the country.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“I’d like to go alone.”
Max’s face changed. His protective instinct battled visibly with his awareness that following you would only make the situation worse.
You picked up your phone and left before he could decide.
The hotel bar was quiet, occupied mostly by guests finishing late drinks after the event. You found a seat at the far end of the counter and ordered water, wanting space more than alcohol.
You’d been alone for less than ten minutes when a man took the seat beside you. You recognised him vaguely although you couldn’t remember his name. He worked for one of the sponsors and had spoken to you earlier in the evening while Max was occupied.
“Escaping the crowd?” he asked.
“Something like that.”
He smiled. “I was hoping I might see you again.”
The intention behind the comment was clear enough to make you straighten.
“I’m married.”
His gaze dropped predictably towards your hand.
“I heard there might be some uncertainty about that.”
“There isn’t.”
The firmness of your answer should have ended the conversation instead he leaned one arm against the bar. “Then your husband is a very lucky man.”
“We both are.”
“Does he know you’re down here alone?”
You turned towards him fully. “I don’t need my husband’s permission to sit in a hotel bar.”
“That isn’t what I meant.”
“It sounded like it.”
Before the man could respond, a familiar voice came from behind you.
“She also doesn’t need to explain herself to you.”
Max stood several feet away, his expression too controlled to be anything but anger. His sleeves were rolled unevenly, the top buttons of his shirt undone like he had followed you before he could stop himself.
The man rose. “We were only talking.”
“I heard enough.” When he spoke, his voice was quiet, but unbridled jealousy sat beneath every word.
“Max,” you warned.
His gaze shifted to you, softening for only a second before returning to the man.
“She told you she was married.”
“I wasn’t doing anything.”
“Then leaving should be easy.”
The man muttered something beneath his breath but walked away. Max watched until he disappeared through the doors, then turned towards you. His restraint was already fraying.
“What were you thinking?”
Your disbelief was immediate. “Excuse me?”
“Sitting down here alone without your ring while people are saying we separated.”
“I told him I was married.”
“He didn’t care.”
“And that’s my fault?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Then what are you angry about?”
“That he looked at you as if he had a chance!”
His voice rose enough to draw attention from the other end of the bar. Max noticed it too, his jaw tightening as he forced himself to lower his voice, but the emotion was still there, sharp and impossible to hide.
For a second neither of you said anything more. Then Max looked around the room, like he had only just remembered where you were.
“We’re not doing this here,” he said.
You should have argued. Part of you wanted to, just to make him stand there a little longer with all that jealousy burning under his skin, but the truth was, your own chest felt too tight, and you hated the idea of strangers pretending not to listen.
So you walked past him towards the lifts.
Max followed half a step behind you, close enough that you could feel him there, but not touching you. That somehow made it worse. He was usually all hands when he was like this hand on your waist, fingers at your back, some small claim disguised as care. Now he seemed to know he had lost the right to do it.
The lift ride was silent.
The moment the hotel room door clicked shut behind you, the argument picked up exactly where it had left off.
“You don’t get to be angry at me for this,” you said, turning on him.
Max was already facing you, one hand still on the door handle. “I’m not angry at you.”
“You are.”
“No I’m angry because he thought he had a chance, he sat beside you because he thought you were alone and when you said you were married he looked at your hand and decided he didn’t have to respect it.”
“That is exactly what happened to me when that woman approached you.”
“I know.”
“You dismissed it.”
“I know.”
“Then why are we still having this argument?”
Max stared at you, breathing hard as the anger gradually drained from his face. In its place came something far more exposed.
“Because I was wrong.”
The admission was not enough to soothe you immediately, particularly after weeks of stubbornness.
“You could have said that days ago.”
“I always understood that it upset you,” he continued. “I guess I just didn’t fully understand why.”
“And now?”
Max looked down at your hand. “Now… I still think a ring doesn’t make us married,” he admitted. “I still think what we have is more important than whether other people can see it.”
You waited.
“But I hate that they can’t see it.”
There it was, not quite an apology, but close.
You leaned back against the table. “Why?”
His eyes narrowed slightly, as if the answer should have been obvious.
“Because you’re mine.”
You gave him a warning look laced with a smirk.
“You know what I mean,” he said quickly. “Not that I own you, but you’re my person. You’re my wife, and I don’t like somebody looking at you and thinking that place beside you might be available.”
“It isn’t.”
“No.” Max stepped closer. “But I like that it tells them before they ask.”
You studied him for a long moment Max came to stand between your knees, his hands settling on your hips. Unlike all the other times he’d touched you over the past week there was no performance in it now, no deliberate need to show anybody what you were to each other. It was only the two of you in the small room.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“You made me feel ridiculous.”
“I’m really sorry.”
He bowed his head towards yours, “I thought you were putting too much meaning into an object when you should already know how I feel. I didn’t really consider that wearing it was one of the ways I showed you how I feel.”
“And?”
“And I have been an enormous hypocrite.”
A laugh slipped out before you could stop it.
Max’s mouth twitched. “I knew that would make you happy.”
“A little.”
He brushed his thumb over the place where your ring usually rested.
“I don’t like jewellery,” he said. “That part is true. I still find the ring uncomfortable sometimes.”
You gave him a flat look.
“But I would rather notice it a hundred times a day than make you believe I don’t value what it represents.”
“Then we can find one that isn’t.”
He looked at you. “What?”
“A thinner band. A different material. Something you barely notice. I never said it had to be the exact ring we bought for the wedding.”
Max frowned as though this practical solution had somehow never occurred to him. “You wouldn’t mind?”
“The ring matters because you’re choosing to wear it. I don’t care whether it’s gold, silver, silicone or something you found inside a cereal box.”
“A cereal box?”
“Perhaps not that.”
He smiled properly then, his shoulders finally relaxing.
“I’ll wear the original when we go somewhere important,” he said. “And we can find something more comfortable for every day.”
“That sounds fair.”
“But you have to put yours back on.”
You lifted an eyebrow.
Max corrected himself reluctantly. “I would very much like you to put yours back on.”
“And not because you nearly had an aneurysm when a man assumed I was single?”
He slid one hand around the back of your neck, leaning closer until his forehead rested against yours.
“I trust you,” he murmured. “I don’t trust other people to behave properly around you.”
“You can’t be angry with them for not knowing I’m married when you’re the one who said I shouldn’t need a ring to show it.”
“I can be angry about whatever I like. I simply can’t blame you for it.”
You smiled. “Growth.”
His mouth found yours the kiss beginning soft before deepening with the same possessive edge that had coloured his behaviour all week. His hands tightened around your waist, pulling you firmly against him, and you felt the last of the tension in his body finally ease when your arms settled around his neck.
When he pulled back, he kissed the corner of your mouth once more.
“Will you wear it tomorrow?”
“I haven’t brought mine,” you said.
“It’s here.”
You blinked. “What do you mean?”
“I put it in the hotel safe.”
“You’ve known where it was this entire time?”
“Yes.”
“And you brought it with us?”
His expression became faintly sheepish. “I didn’t like leaving it at home.”
The confession was so painfully hypocritical that you stared at him.
“You carried my wedding ring across countries while insisting it did not matter?”
“Hey, I’ve already admitted I was wrong don’t I get some credit for that?”
“Will you wear yours?”
“Yes.”
“Even if it’s uncomfortable?”
Max sighed dramatically. “Until we replace it.”
You pretended to consider it.
“Then yes.”
The relief on his face was almost comical.
Later he retrieved your ring from the safe and placed it in your palm without immediately asking you to wear it. He sat beside you on the edge of the bed, his knee pressed against yours while he waited.
He held out his hand.
You took his ring first.
For a moment you simply turned it between your fingers, tracing the engraved date hidden along the inside. Then you slid it slowly back onto his finger. Max watched you with an intensity that made the moment feel strangely reminiscent of your wedding, stripped of the ceremony and the guests but not of its meaning.
He picked up yours next.
“I don’t need this to know you love me,” he said, looking at you rather than your hand.
“I know.”
“And you don’t need mine.”
“No.”
“But I will wear it because it matters to you.”
You softened. “And I’ll wear mine because it apparently keeps you from glaring at every innocent man who speaks to me.”
“None of them were innocent.” He growled.
“Max.” You laughed as he slipped the ring back onto your finger.
His thumb passed over it once, then again, and you watched the familiar satisfaction settle over his face. He lifted your hand to his mouth, kissing directly above the band before lacing your fingers together.
The rings didn’t make you married. They didn’t create the loyalty between you nor did they guarantee it. They couldn’t carry the full weight of every promise you had made or every private thing your marriage had become, but as Max stared down at your joined hands, both bands finally returned to their places he seemed to understand that symbols did not have to replace the truth to matter.
f1 is funny bc it's basically a series of people going "max is the nicest person I've ever met. he saved my grandmother's life and raised my son for me" and the british media asking brave and original questions like "is max verstappen the devil from hell?"
Hiya! I’ve been thinking of this for a while. I would love to ask if you could write a Kimi Antonelli x F!Sainz!Reader? That reader is a few years younger than Kimi. If not, it’s okay ;). Thanksss!
Hi! Sorry I don’t write for Kimi! But if anyone knows anyone else that would be good fit to recommend please leave in the comments 😁
do you ever think about how baby max must have idolized and adored lewis and fernando and seb etc. to the same measure at some point growing up like any kid in his generation, and came to the grid at 17 years old eyes bright with excitement to be racing against these champions he respects so much only for almost everyone to shun him, look down on him and worse still, call him dangerous and violent the second he makes a mistake so the media labels him “mad max” and compares him to his father who he never wanted to be like… i think that’s why i’m so especially fond of fernando and max because he was the only one who respect max, liked him and gave him a chance, even exchanging helmets at the end of the season🥹
I think about this all the time. People talk so much about the relationship between Max and Lewis, but something that often gets overlooked is that Max genuinely seemed to be a big fan of Lewis growing up. Max always insisted he never really had a hero, but Lewis was one of the few drivers he repeatedly mentioned liking and admiring. I’ve attached one small example, but there are plenty more.
That’s why I sometimes wonder whether meeting and racing against Lewis was very different from what teenage Max had imagined. They seem friendly enough now, but I think everything that happened in 2021 permanently changed the way they saw each other.
Fernando was one of the only established drivers who consistently treated Max fairly and genuinely looked out for him. He’s always spoken very highly of Max even when other people were criticising him, and I think Max has always remembered that.
A lot of people act as though Max arrived in F1 with an unjustified attitude, but the truth is that he knew how good he was and believed he deserved to be there which is exactly the mentality you need at that level of the sport and he proved himself almost immediately. There’s something to be said for humility, but unfortunately quietly hiding in the background and doing everything you’re told rarely gets you to the top of F1.
People say that Max runs Red Bull and could have his choice of any team, but that power doesn’t appear overnight its’s a legacy he has spent a decade building. To make a name for himself in that environment, especially when he was so young and so many people were waiting for him to fail, he had to be bold, aggressive and completely unapologetic about his talent. Anyone who pretends that his controversial moments make him uniquely dangerous is projecting, because every great driver in the history of the sport has crossed lines and divided opinion on the way to the top.
What makes me appreciate Max even more is how easily he could resent today’s rookies for receiving the patience and grace that he was never given (and at an even younger age). As much as I love Kimi, he made so many mistakes last year and was generally allowed to learn from them without being branded dangerous, violent or fundamentally undeserving of his seat. Max could easily feel bitter about that difference, but he doesn’t.
Instead he is kind and encouraging towards the rookies. They clearly respect and admire him, but they also actively want to be around him and be his friend. I think that says everything about the person he actually is.
