Abudhabby29-blog - Abby’s Blog (it’s All About The Self)

hi love!! when is the next part of ‘you were never not mine’ going to be uploaded?? i am in loveeee

SCENE 7 :: WE'LL PAY THE PRICE, I GUESS ↳ you were never not mine — carlos sainz ༉‧₊˚✧

★ : pairing :: carlos sainz x reader ★ : genre :: angst; smut; fluff ★ : words :: 3.8k separated by a hidden emotional turmoil, carlos and y/n navigate the complexities of co-parenting their twins amidst the high-stakes f1 world. amidst paddock visits and personal healing, will they go further apart or find their wayback to each other? ★ : a/n :: i made lots of social media posts/texts for this but decided to scratch it and write it at last. shows the dynamic or carlos and y/n more than anything. it's mostly nsfw so yeah enjoy? writing is a bit dusty and not proofread

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The first thing you feel is warmth. A hauntingly familiar one.

Not the kind from blankets or the sun creeping in through the curtains, but something heavier, something real, something that wasn’t making you sweat but making your chest ache. 

Slowly, you registered the weight of a hand resting on your hip. The press of soft lips against your cheek. A breathy chuckle against your skin when you scrunch your nose but don’t wake up.

You don’t have to open your eyes to know who it is.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice low and raspy from sleep, lips grazing the corner of your jaw before trailing lazily toward your lips.

You make a sleepy sound in protest, burying your face into the pillow. “Go away.”

He hums, amused at your cheeks burning up, but doesn’t back off. His fingers tighten slightly at your waist as he leans in again, brushing his nose against your cheek before pressing a lingering kiss to your lips. “Never.”

Your brows furrow, eyes still closed when you hear an exhale of breath. “What’s wrong?”

Carlos sighs again, shifting slightly, making the blanket move and suddenly you realize why he sounds so strained. His arms are awkwardly folded at his sides, barely moving, like he’s trapped. 

That’s when you register the tiny limbs sprawled across both of you and you pursue your lips in order to not burst out laughing.

One of your twins is half on Carlos’s chest, little fingers fisted into his shirt, while the other is wedged between you two, his foot pressed right into Carlos’s stomach.

“Ah,” you whisper, taking in the sight. “You’re stuck.”

Carlos groans dramatically. “Sí, and my arm is asleep.” He tilts his head toward you, lips brushing your temple as he speaks. “I have been trying to wake you up, but someone wouldn’t move.”

You smile sleepily, your fingers finding their way to his naked chest, gently tracing patterns over his skin. “You could’ve just moved them.”

Carlos gives you a look, like you’ve suggested something ridiculous. “And risk waking them up? I love them but it’s too early...”

One of the twins stirs slightly, mumbling something incoherent before curling further into Carlos. He stiffens. “This is a dangerous game, baby. We have to get them back to their room before they take over completely.”

You glance at them, at the peaceful little faces snuggled into the safety of their dad’s arms, and suddenly, you don’t feel like moving. But Carlos nudges you gently.

“Come on,” he whispers, “help me.”

Carefully, you both begin the delicate mission of untangling yourselves from your children. Carlos shifts first, expertly maneuvering one twin into your arms before you slide out of bed. He follows immediately after, scooping up the other in one practiced motion.

It comes so naturally to him that it has your poor stomach twisting.

The hallway is dim, the house still quiet as you make your way to their room.

Carlos walks ahead of you, stepping lightly, a hand cradling the back of your son’s head to keep him from stirring. You follow, watching as he nudges the door open with his foot before stepping inside.

There’s a soft glow from the nightlight. The room is neat, save for a few scattered toys and a forgotten stuffed animal on the floor.

You place the first twin into his teddy bear-shaped bed, tucking the blanket over him gently.

Carlos lays down the other twin in his race car bed, brushing a stray curl from his forehead before stepping back beside you.

For a moment, you both just watch them.

“They move so much in their sleep.”

“Like their dad.” You smile, whispering back.

Carlos nudges you playfully with his elbow, making you stifle a laugh before he tilts his head toward the little red car bed. “We should change that color, you know.”

You arch a brow at him. “What, so my baby can have a McLaren instead?”

Carlos scoffs, his eyes pointed at you in disbelief. Only you really could find humor in joking about that so early in the morning.

You bite your lip, stifling another laugh. “So dramatic.” He leans in slightly, lowering his voice. “I’m serious.”

Carlos doesn’t argue further, choosing to ignore the mention of Oscar. Instead, his fingers ghost over your wrist, a barely-there touch, before he gently takes your hand in his. His thumb runs absentmindedly over your skin, slow and deliberate.

“Let’s go,” he murmurs, his voice softer now.

He’s leaning down to press a kiss to the twin nearest to him as you do the same but when you turn your head toward him, your heart skips slightly at the way he’s looking at you warm, familiar, like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

Good, you didn’t want him anywhere but here either.

You hesitate, but Carlos doesn’t rush you. He just tugs lightly at your hand, pulling you with him, step by step, back toward your bedroom.

The moment you cross the threshold, his hands settle on your waist, guiding you back onto the mattress. He follows soon after, his body fitting easily against yours, like he was always meant to be there.

Neither of you speak for a moment. The world outside is still.

Then, quietly, almost hesitantly, you hear him say, “I missed this.”

The words steal your air and your throat tightens as you look at him. He looks exactly the same, his familiarity making you relax but at the same time, he’s so different. It didn’t make any sense and you hoped your brain wasn’t fucking with you right now.

When he watches you lose yourself in your head, Carlos kisses you slowly, like he has all the time in the world, like he wants to feel every second of this

His lips brush over yours, not demanding, not urgent. Just there, waiting, savoring. His hands move with purpose, tracing familiar curves with a tenderness that makes your breath hitch.

And okay, you feel the shift immediately. He’s been yearning for this. The way his breathing is almost non-existent and his hands are secured around your hip.

This isn’t about erasing the past or proving something.

It’s about being here, in this moment, together because being anywhere else would be a crime. The last time you guys were together had been rushed. Pathetic. Desperate. 

It had been hands fumbling, mouths clashing, bodies colliding in a mess of need. A frantic attempt to reclaim something you both thought had been lost forever.

You hadn’t spoken much then, just whispered names and broken sounds, drowning in something neither of you had been ready to name yet.

Carlos exhales against your lips, his forehead pressing to yours. "You’re so beautiful," he whispers, voice raw, like the thought physically hurts him.

Your fingers slide into his hair, tugging gently, warning him to tone down the cringe. "You always say that." Rolling your eyes you hum as he sucks at your pulse point. Eyes closing.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, thumb grazing the curve of your jaw. "Because it’s always true."

That makes you shiver beneath him, and it’s not from the cold.

Carlos kisses his way down your body, slow and reverent, his hands steadying you as he moves. When he reaches the hem of your shirt, he hesitates, fingers curling into the fabric.

He looks up at you. Waiting. It makes your heartbeat race and you curse yourself in your head as you nod.

Not giving you enough time to overthink, Carlos lifts your shirt over your head, his gaze never leaving yours. But the moment his gaze travels down towards your flesh, his expression changes.

His breath stutters. His entire body stills.

You know exactly what he’s looking at.

His fingers twitch at his sides, like he wants to touch you but doesn’t trust himself. His lips part, a shaky breath slipping through, and then-

Then his eyes glass over.

You watch the moment it hits him, the realization that your body carries proof of everything you went through without him. How you have to live through it everytime you catch a glimpse of your naked self.

The scars are faint now, healed over time, but they’re still there. Marks of the past. Marks of pain. Marks of life and loss. The one you made together but you lost alone.

Carlos presses his lips together, his jaw tightening like he’s trying to stop himself from breaking. But it’s no use.

A tear slips down his cheek and it makes your heart clench.

"Babe," you whisper, reaching for him, but he shakes his head quickly, closing his eyes like he needs a second to pull himself together. And you nod to no one in particular.

Then, very gently, after moments that felt like forever, he touches you.

His hands are warm, calloused, shaking as they trail over your stomach, mapping out the places he never got to hold, the changes he never got to witness. He traces one of the scars with his thumb, his breathing uneven, his shoulders trembling.

“I… I-” His voice cracks. He swallows, blinking rapidly, his thumb pressing slightly firmer against your skin like he’s trying to ground himself. "I should have been there."

You freeze for a second. Of course, he should have been. You remember it like yesterday, when he was on the way to the airport. You called him because it hurt. The hurt was killing you and he dismissed it with a simple,“Please visit the doctor, sweetheart.” 

Before he was on the flight while the doctors cut open the baby from your stomach only to find that…

You shake your head. It was too dark, you never want to relive it. Cupping his face, you wipe away a stray tear with your thumb. “You’re here now.” It was pointless to think about it now. You have let that hold you back, too much. You deserved to be more than that.

Carlos lets out a choked breath, half a laugh, half a sob which pulls you back to the present.

He presses his forehead to your stomach gently, lips brushing the scars like a silent apology.

Your fingers thread through his hair. “Do you still want me?” you ask softly. It was heartbreaking to be this vulnerable with him again,“I need to know, Carlos.” Maybe you could have worded that better but the need for physical intimacy was too overwhelming.

His hands squeeze at your waist, as if the idea of letting go physically pains him. "You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted."

You gasp when you realise it, and suddenly, you’re the one who can’t breathe. 

You’re pulling him up immediately, guiding him back to you. His lips crash against yours, but there’s still nothing rushed about it, just aching, consuming want.

When you reach for the waistband of his sweats, he lets you. When you push him back onto the mattress, he mutters a ‘yes, please’. When you straddle him, lining up yourself against him with slow, deliberate movements, his breath shudders beneath you.

Carlos is breaking apart beneath your hands, but he lets you put him back together.

His hands grip your hips, but you set the pace: slow, deep. Making sure he feels all of it. The first roll of your hips is met with a broken sound from his lips.

The second, with a whispered, "I love you."

By the third, he’s crying again.

You lean forward, brushing your lips over his, swallowing his shaky breaths. "It’s okay," you whisper. "I’ve got you."

Carlos exhales sharply, fingers digging into your thighs. "You feel so-" He cuts himself off with a strangled sound, his body shuddering beneath you. "I don’t deserve this."

"Maybe." You press your forehead to his. Was that mean? Maybe. But you weren’t gonna hide or lie. Not anymore. "But you have me anyway."

Carlos lets out a cracked geoan, his arms wrapping around you, holding you as close as humanly possible as you move together, slow and steady. You grind against him and he lets you do whatever you want.

When you finally reach the edge, you press your fingers against your swollen clit but Carlos quickly replaces it with his own, pushing up to increase the speed as he takes back some control.

You let go and cry out as his teeth sink to your shoulder, your nails gripping his back, as your back arches. It feels so good that you’re almost sad to have come. The climax ends in contracting your muscles making him shake before he weakly tries to pull you up. 

You whine and push down, relieved that he’s still inside you. He groans again, forehead pressed to yours like he never wants to leave but he’s shaking all over,”Baby, I’m gonna-”

"You don’t have to pull out."

Carlos stills.

For a second, you think maybe he didn’t hear you, but then his entire body tenses and you feel his sticky release fill you up.

His eyes snap open, wide and searching, like he’s trying to make sure you’re serious. His lips part slightly, his breathing suddenly uneven.

"What?"

Your fingers slide into his hair, a small, nervous smile tugging at your lips.

"We’re way past worrying about that now."

Carlos doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink.

You can feel the exact moment it registers.

His hands tighten on your waist, his breath shaking as his mouth opens like he wants to say something but can’t find the words. His eyes flicker over your face, as if he’s waiting for you to laugh, to tell him this is a joke-

But you just hold his gaze, nodding softly.

“Yeah.”

And that’s when it happens.

Carlos’s hands fly to your hips, and suddenly, he’s flipping you onto your back to regain control as if he just wasn’t having a breakdown. You gasp in shock, his body hovering over you, protective, panicked, completely wrecked.

“Y/N.” His voice is low, almost scolding, but you can hear the shake beneath it. His jaw tightens, eyes darting over your face like he’s checking, searching- like you might disappear if he looks away. "You- are you serious?"

You cup his face, thumbs smoothing over his cheekbones. "Carlos- "

"You should have told me." His voice is raw, laced with fear he’s trying so hard to bury. "You- fuck, cara, you should have told me."

Your breath catches at the way his hands clench into the sheets beside you, at the way his forehead presses to yours, like he’s holding himself back from completely falling apart. THis was also a breakdown, just a mental one this time.

“You know now,” you whisper.

Carlos lets out a shaky exhale, his fingers twitching like he wants to touch you but is afraid to.

“You almost- ” He swallows hard, closing his eyes for a second, as if the memory of what happened last time is too much.

He shakes his head. “No, I'm so fucking sorry for doing this to you. You can’t- I can’t go through that again.”

Your heart clenches. “Carlos- ”

“Y/N,” he breathes, pulling back to look at you fully, his hands framing your face, thumbs brushing over your skin like you’re something delicate, something he’s terrified of breaking. “You don’t understand. I- I nearly lost you."

His voice breaks on the last word.

You inhale sharply.

Carlos’s throat works, his breath heavy and uneven. "I wasn’t there. I didn’t even fucking know- " His eyes squeeze shut, his entire body trembling as he shakes his head, "...and if it happens again- "

"It won’t," you whisper, cupping his jaw.

He exhales a quiet, pained laugh, his eyes snapping open. "We don’t know that."

You pull him closer, pressing your lips to his softly, trying to erase the ghosts he’s drowning in.

Carlos doesn’t kiss you back at first. He’s too stiff, too overwhelmed, his hands still holding your face like he’s checking if you’re real.

Then, you whisper against his lips, "I want this, Carlos."

He lets out a low, strangled sound, like the weight of those words is too much.

“The doctor said it’s all safe,” you say again, voice soft but sure.

Carlos’s jaw tightens. His hands fall to your waist, his thumbs pressing into your skin like he needs to feel you, anchor himself in you.

"You- " He stops himself, inhales sharply, then exhales, voice barely steady. “You want this?”

You nod, firmly. Funny how he only focused on that part. “With you? Always.”

Carlos searches your face, like he’s still afraid, like his body is still buzzing with the panic of almost losing you again. But then, his forehead presses back to yours, and he breathes you in- breathes this in- and something shifts.

Something clicks.

His lips brush against yours, soft, hesitant, pleading.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispers.

"You won’t. I want you."

Carlos lets out a slow breath, presses a kiss to your shoulder, then another to your collarbone. His hands move slower now, gentler, as if relearning you, as if making sure you feel every single touch.

And this time, when he pushes inside you again, it's not desperate, it's deliberate.

Carlos moves like he’s memorizing you, like he’s worshiping every inch of you, like he’s trying to replace every painful memory with this.

His lips find yours in the quietest confession, his hands gripping your waist, steadying himself as his forehead presses against yours.

His voice is barely a whisper.

"I love you."

You whimper, nails digging into his back, pulling him closer, deeper.

His lips find your throat, pressing kisses so slow and sweet it makes your chest ache.

Carlos shudders against you, his breath uneven, his arms shaking as he moves with you, not just in you, but with you. You are quick to reach your finish, too overstimulated to take time. Your walls sucking his orgasm out of him.

And when he finally lets go, when his body tenses and his hands clutch you tighter, it’s not panic that follows.

It’s relief. It’s acceptance. It’s home.

Carlos is heavy on top of you, completely boneless as he breathes against your shoulder. His weight is comforting, his warmth all-consuming, and for the first time in what feels like forever…

Everything feels right.

Your fingers move lazily through his hair, nails scraping gently at his scalp. Carlos hums at the sensation, pressing one last, slow kiss against your shoulder before pulling back just enough to look at you.

His eyes are still soft, heavy with emotion, but there’s something else now. A sort of calm that wasn’t there before.

“You’ve ruined everyone for me.” Carlos exhales, lips quivering into a tired smirk. 

You make a face, pushing at his chest as if he wasn’t piecing you back together minute by minute. “You’re so dramatic.”

Carlos grins, rolling onto his side, but he doesn’t let you go completely. His hand slides over your stomach, fingers tracing absentminded shapes against your skin.

At least he doesn’t look panicked anymore.

“In this forever now, huh?” he murmurs and your heart stumbles. 

You cup his jaw, pressing a kiss to his lips, slow and deliberate. “We as in us, Alisa and Oscar?”

“For fuck’s sake, baby,” His eyes flutter shut for a second, like he’s calming himself down, before he exhales.

You bite back a smile, arms wrapping around his neck. “You are a big boy, you can take it.”

“Only for you.” He nips at your bottom lip, grinning when you gasp. "You’re stuck with me now, cariño."

And for the first time in months, you believe it.

For the first time, there’s no uncertainty, no lingering fear that this will fall apart again. Just Carlos, tangled up with you, holding you like he’ll never let go.

It’s perfect. It’s peaceful- your phone suddenly rings and you both groan.

Carlos drops his head onto your chest dramatically. “Ignore it.”

“It could be important.”

“I am important,” he grumbles, voice muffled against your skin as he sucks one of your nipples into his mouth.

You snort, pushing his head away before reaching over to grab your phone from the nightstand, only for Carlos to groan louder. “C’mon.”

“You’ll live.”

Carlos lazily kisses your shoulder again, completely unbothered as you listen to Lily, until you freeze. His lips pause against your skin, instantly aware of the way your body tenses beneath him.

Your heart is pounding.

Carlos lifts his head, brows furrowing as he watches your eyes dart across the screen.

Then, quietly throws in a,“What’s wrong?”

You swallow hard, blinking at the text message shared with you, lighting up your phone screen.

BREAKING: Alisa speaks out about her relationship with Carlos Sainz.

The world tilts.

Carlos’s jaw clenches. He doesn’t even have to read all of it to know that it’s bullshit, it’s revenge. Revenge for what he did to her but he knows, it’ll hurt you more.

"She gave a statement."

Carlos snatches the phone from your hands, sitting up immediately, he doesn't want you to read this. You watch the way his shoulders lock up, the way his fingers tighten dangerously around the device.

He stares at the screen. Doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe.

And just like that, it’s happening again.

The world, which had just felt steady, just felt right, is crumbling beneath you.

Carlos inhales sharply, shaking his head. "No."

You press a hand to your stomach as you bend over to read the part highlighted, the part making noise, your chest tightening. It was the part you never wanted anyone to know.

No, no, no. Carlos thinks.

It was supposed to be over. It was supposed to be your turn to be happy.

Carlos curses under his breath, throwing the phone onto the bed like it burned him. He rakes a shaky hand through his hair, eyes squeezing shut for a moment before turning to you as you speak.

“Why would she- she… it wasn't a miscarriage-”

You swallow, unable to talk, your fingers fisting the sheets beneath you, your own breathing suddenly uneven.

This isn’t just gossip. It’s your life. This isn’t just drama. It’s your real life.

This is Alisa, with the entire world watching as lies are being spread about your stillborn baby that was ripped from you too soon.

This is your past mistakes, Carlos’s past mistakes, coming back to ruin everything.

Again.

Carlos watches as you struggle to breathe, as your shoulders shake, as your hands tremble against the blankets.

And for the first time in a long time…

You see it in his face.

The same panic you felt when he walked away for that race. The same helplessness he wore when you left. 

Like no matter how hard you hold on, the universe is determined to have you fall apart.

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Between the Laps

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Driver!Reader Enemies to Friends to...

Summary: When a rookie driver finds herself paired with the reigning champion Max Verstappen, sparks fly. Ambition clashes with undeniable chemistry, as their rivalry and relationship evolves throughout the intense F1 calendar.

Author's Note: Here it is, now just shy of 9k words! This fanfic is significantly longer and more narrative-driven than anything I’ve written on here so far. I really hope you all enjoy it, and I’d greatly appreciate any feedback you might have, thanks!

8.8k words / Masterlist

Race Weekend 1 – Bahrain Grand Prix

The paddock was alive with a low hum of tension and excitement, the air saturated with the distinct scent of burning rubber and gasoline.

You had been here before, in different categories as a rising talent in the motorsport world, but Formula 1 was a whole new arena. Walking through the Red Bull Racing garage you felt the weight of the world pressing down on you. This wasn’t just a race, it was your first F1 race weekend, and to top it off your teammate was none other than Max Verstappen, the reigning World Champion.

Max's reputation preceded him. The fierce competitor, a driver with an almost inhuman ability to push his car beyond the limits, appearing to be in a league of his own. Now he was your teammate or, more realistically, you were his teammate. It was his team, his title on the line, and you were just the rookie fresh to the team and to some extent an uninvited guest in his house.

As you stepped into the garage you caught a glimpse of Max. He was sitting with his usual air of intense concentration, eyes fixed on the telemetry data on his tablet as if he could solve every on-track issue with sheer force of will. His dirty blonde hair peeked out from under his cap. For a moment your eyes met, and a flicker of something passed between you. It wasn’t friendly. A short, curt nod was all he gave you before returning to his data, as if you were a distraction not worth his time.

You took a deep breath, trying to shake off the nerves gnawing at your insides. No one said this would be easy. Max was a World Champion, he didn’t have time for rookies.

Your debut race weekend came at you fast, a blur of press conferences, strategy meetings, and practice sessions. The eyes of the motorsport world were on you, and the pressure was immense. You had qualified a respectable eighth, but Max was on pole. It wasn’t just a gap in pace — it was a chasm. Still, for your first race it wasn’t bad, or at least that’s what you kept telling yourself.

Sunday, and the garage was bustling with energy, staff buzzing around like a well-oiled machine. Everyone knew their place. Everyone except you it seemed.

You were sitting in the team motorhome, staring at your race strategy when Max finally broke the silence between you.

“Nervous?” he asked, though the way he phrased it didn’t leave much room for a simple yes or no. His tone was casual, but his gaze remained laser-focused, almost challenging.

You looked up from your tablet, startled. He hadn’t said more than a few words to you all weekend. “Not particularly,” you replied, keeping your voice even.

Max’s lips quirked into a smirk, but there was no warmth in it. “Good. Nervous drivers make mistakes.”

You raised an eyebrow, unsure if this was advice or a thinly veiled insult. “I’ve been racing a long time Max.”

“This isn’t F2,” he replied smoothly.

“I know how to drive,” you shot back, feeling a flicker of irritation rise up inside you.

Max studied you for a moment as if weighing his next words carefully. “Sure. Just don't get in my way.”

And with that he stood up, grabbing his helmet and walking out of the motorhome without another word. You watched him go, your jaw clenched. He was right this wasn’t F2, but you weren’t going to let him dismiss you like someone who didn’t belong here.

The race itself was brutal. Max dominated from start to finish, winning with the same ruthless efficiency that had earned him the title. Meanwhile, you struggled. The car felt unbalanced, the tyres didn’t last as long as you’d hoped, and you made a few rookie mistakes costing you valuable positions. You finished with just one measly point, a disheartening tenth place.

As you walked back into the garage, still buzzing with the adrenaline of the race you could feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on you. Max was already there sitting with his engineers discussing his race. He didn’t acknowledge you, didn’t even glance in your direction.

You slumped into your chair, exhausted and frustrated. Everyone tried to cheer you up telling you it was a good effort for your first race, but the disappointment gnawed at you. You didn’t come here to finish tenth. You wanted to be on the podium, fighting for wins, not languishing in the midfield.

From across the garage, Max’s voice cut through the noise. He was talking to his race engineer, but his words stung as if they were meant directly for you.

“They need to focus on my initial concerns,” he said, his tone casual but firm. “We don’t have time to worry about the rookies issues right now.”

You clenched your fists, the frustration building. It wasn’t just about the race anymore. It was about proving that you belonged here, that you could stand toe-to-toe with him. Max might be the reigning champion, but you weren’t going to let him walk all over you.

Race Weekend 4 - Japanese Grand Prix Qualifying

You stormed into the garage ripping off your helmet in frustration. Your heart was still pounding, not just from the high-speed laps but from the seething anger simmering under your skin. No matter how much you pushed yourself, Max was always one step ahead. The gap felt minimal, fractions of a second, but it might as well have been a canyon.

Max was already there, cool and composed, his pole position nothing out of the ordinary. He was talking with one of the engineers, a slight smirk tugging at his lips like he had already forgotten about the rest of the field. About you.

You could feel your blood boiling. The way he acted so untouchable, so certain of his superiority. Without thinking you marched toward him, your voice sharper than you intended.

"What's your secret Verstappen?" you asked, sarcasm dripping from every word. "Is it the car, or just pure luck?"

Max glanced over his shoulder, his expression unbothered. He raised an eyebrow that infuriating smirk growing. "Luck? Is that what you're going with?"

You crossed your arms, glaring at him. "I’m just trying to figure out how someone so smug manages to stay on top."

He turned to face you fully now, a look of mild amusement playing across his features. "Maybe it's not that complicated. Maybe I’m just better."

The arrogance in his voice was like fuel to the fire, and you took a step closer, your jaw clenched. "Or maybe you’re just used to coasting because no one’s challenged you here. You’re not untouchable, Max."

Max’s smirk faded slightly his blue eyes narrowing as he took a step toward you. "You think you’re the one to change that? Face it, you're good, but you're not there yet. You’re reckless, always pushing too hard. It’s gonna cost you eventually."

His words cut deeper than you expected. They weren’t just taunts they felt like a judgment, like he had already written you off. But you weren’t about to let him get inside your head.

"At least I’m not afraid to take risks," you shot back.

Max’s eyes flashed, and for a moment something darker crossed his face, something serious. "This isn’t a game you know. There’s no room for mistakes here. You’re playing with fire, and if you keep going the way you are you’re going to burn out."

His words hung in the air between you, the tension crackling like static. He wasn’t mocking you anymore, this was something else, something more intense. You didn’t know if he was trying to warn you or challenge you, but either way you weren’t backing down.

"I’d rather burn out than fade away," you said, your voice hard.

Max didn’t reply immediately, but his eyes locked on yours, unblinking. There was something unreadable in his expression, like he was seeing you in a new light, but it was hard to tell if it was respect or frustration.

"Just stay out of my way," he finally said, his voice quiet but charged. Then he turned, walking away, leaving you standing there with your pulse racing and your fists clenched.

You watched him go, the frustration and anger still swirling inside you. He was wrong about you—you weren’t going to burn out. But something about his words stuck with you, lingering long after he’d walked away, like an unwanted echo in the back of your mind.

Race Weekend 6 - Spanish Grand Prix

The race had ended hours ago, but the irritation still churned in your chest. Sitting in the team briefing room, the air between you and Max was thick with tension, as had become the norm. All you could hear was the pounding of your own heart, still replaying the near-collision between you and Max in your head.

Max sat across the table, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. It was like nothing got to him, like the chaos on the track didn’t even phase him. The way he remained so calm, so detached, only made your anger burn hotter.

Most of the engineers finally left the room and the door clicked shut behind them. The silence that followed was suffocating. You couldn’t hold back anymore.

"Next time," you snapped, your voice cutting through the quiet, "try not to run me off the track."

Max didn’t even flinch, he looked at you his expression infuriatingly calm. "You’re exaggerating."

"Exaggerating?" you exclaimed, your voice rising. "You practically forced me off the track at Turn 8! If I hadn’t backed off, we’d have both been out of the race."

Max sighed, leaning forward, his elbows resting on the table. "It’s racing. Hard racing. If you can’t handle it, maybe you should reconsider what you’re doing here."

You clenched your fists under the table, every muscle in your body tensing. You knew part of the anger was stemming from knowing there was truth to his words, but you weren't going to admit that anytime soon.

"I can handle hard racing just fine," you shot back. "What I can’t handle is you acting like you’re the only one who deserves to be here. I’m your teammate Max, not your punching bag."

Max’s eyes darkened, and for the first time, you saw something else behind his cool exterior—annoyance, maybe even anger. "Teammate?" he repeated, his voice colder now. "You don’t act like one. You drive like you’re the only person on the track."

You laughed bitterly, unable to hold it in. "That’s rich, coming from you. You’ve spent this whole season so far treating me like I’m not even worth your time. It’s like you can’t stand the idea of someone else being good enough to challenge you."

Max stood up abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. His sudden movement startled you, but you didn’t back down.

"Challenge me?" he said, his voice low but sharp. "This isn’t about some petty rivalry. You’re reckless. You don’t think about the bigger picture. You only care about beating me, and it’s going to get someone hurt—probably you."

His words stung more than you expected. It wasn’t just that he thought you weren’t good enough. It was the way he said it, like he didn’t believe you’d ever be more than a threat to yourself.

"You think I don’t know what I’m doing?" you asked, your voice shaking with anger now. "You think I’m just some rookie who’s out of their depth?"

Max didn’t answer right away. He just stood there staring at you with those piercing blue eyes, like he was trying to figure you out but couldn’t. The silence stretched on heavy and suffocating.

Then, finally, he spoke. "I think you’re talented," he admitted, his voice quieter now, but no less intense. "But you let your emotions get the better of you. You take unnecessary risks because you’re trying to prove something."

His words cut deep, hitting a nerve you hadn’t expected. He wasn’t just criticising your driving anymore, he was questioning you, the way you handled everything. And what stung the most was that part of you feared he might be right.

You stood up, matching his stance refusing to show any weakness. "I don’t need a lecture from you Max. You’re not perfect either."

Max’s jaw tightened, and for a split second, you thought you saw something flicker across his face, hurt? But just as quickly it was gone, replaced by that familiar steely expression.

"Maybe I’m not," he said.

The room felt like it was closing in on you, the air thick with unresolved tension. You wanted to say something, anything, to break through the wall between you, but the anger and frustration clouded your thoughts, you could feel his gaze on your back as you walked out of the room. You slammed the door behind you, the sound echoing down the empty hallway.

Race Weekend 8 – Monaco Grand Prix

You and Max had barely spoken during practice, though the tension was undeniable. He still had that smug look on his face, his confidence oozing off him as you wiped the sweat from your forehead. You could feel your heart beating just a little faster, though you’d never admit it was anything but adrenaline.

As you sat down in the garage, peeling off your gloves, Max passed by.

"Not bad, rookie," he said casually. "Though, I almost expected you to spin out in Turn 4. You were practically kissing the barriers."

You raised an eyebrow, not willing to let him get the better of you. "Almost, huh? Shame you weren’t close enough to see the whole thing. Maybe you could have learned something."

He snorted, leaning against the wall next to you. "Oh, trust me, I got the best view. Though I’m still not sure if you're brave or just reckless."

You gave him a sideways glance smiling "Maybe I’m both."

Max's eyes lingered on you for a second longer than necessary, and you could feel the weight of it. He sat back in his chair, watching you, and the silence between you grew comfortable. You caught him glancing at you again, that smirk back in place, but this time it felt... different.

"You know," he said, voice teasing, "you should smile more often. You look less intimidating when you do."

You glanced up, confused for a second. "I’m not the one people are intimated by."

"Maybe not," he said, eyes glinting, "but you’ve got your own way of getting under people's skin."

"Well, I learned from the best," you shot back without missing a beat.

Max chuckled, shaking his head. "Touché."

Race Weekend 11 – Italian Grand Prix

As the season wore on, things began to shift slowly. You had found your rhythm, steadily improving race by race. You weren’t on Max’s level, not yet, but you were consistently finishing in the points, and at times, you had even managed to challenge him during practice or qualifying. But the dynamic between you remained strained. Max was still focused on his championship, and while the outright hostility had faded there was still an undeniable tension between the two of you.

The Italian Grand Prix was one of the most iconic races of the season. Monza, the Temple of Speed, with its long straights and tight corners it was a test of both car and driver. You had qualified fourth, but once again Max was on pole. It was becoming a frustrating pattern.

After qualifying you found yourself alone in the paddock, sitting on the steps outside the motorhome. You were replaying your lap in your head over and over, trying to figure out where you could have found more time.

“Still overthinking?” Max’s voice broke through your thoughts, and you looked up to see him standing a few feet away, his helmet under his arm.

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Just trying to figure out how to be half a second faster.”

Max walked over, sitting down beside you on the steps. “You’re pushing too hard,” he said after a moment, his voice surprisingly soft. “You’re overdriving the car.”

You frowned, not sure if this was another dig or actual advice. “I’m trying to make up the gap.”

“You can’t drive like that here,” he continued, his eyes scanning the empty track. “You have to let the car come to you. If you keep forcing it, you’re going to keep making mistakes.”

You looked at him genuinely surprised. This was the first time he had offered anything resembling constructive advice. “Why are you telling me this?”

Max didn’t meet your gaze, instead looking out at the paddock. “Because I’ve been where you are. I know what it’s like to have everything to prove.”

You paused, his words sinking in. For the first time, you realised that Max wasn’t just being arrogant. He had been in your shoes once, the young driver trying to prove himself in a world that was constantly questioning if he was good enough, if he was ready.

“Thanks,” you said, your voice a little quieter than usual. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Max nodded, standing up and stretching. “Don’t get used to it,” he said with his familiar smirk. “I still want to beat you.”

You laughed, the tension between you easing just a little. “I’ll keep that in mind too.”

The race at Monza was chaotic as expected. The high-speed circuit, combined with the aggressive nature of the drivers made for a thrilling but nerve-wracking experience. Max was fighting for the win as usual, while you were locked in a battle in the top five.

In the closing laps you found yourself side by side with a McLaren, both of you fighting tooth and nail for fourth place. It was intense, wheel-to-wheel racing, and you could feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins. But Max’s earlier words echoed in your head. Don’t overdrive. Let the car come to you.

With a deep breath you backed off slightly, biding your time, waiting for the right moment. And when it came, you seized it, pulling off a clean overtake and securing fourth place. It wasn’t the podium you wanted, but it was solid result.

After the race you were exhausted, but satisfied. It wasn’t a win but it was a step in the right direction. As you walked back into the garage you caught Max’s eye. He didn’t say anything, but there was a subtle nod of acknowledgment. You had his respect even if he wasn’t going to say it out loud.

Race Weekend 13 - British Grand Prix

It was late in the evening, the team had thrown a small celebration after a particularly challenging but successful race for both of you. The atmosphere was relaxed, and after a few drinks you and Max found yourselves sitting together away from the others. The competitive edge was still there, but the rivalry was fading, replaced by something you couldn’t quite name.

You stretched out leaning back on your hands as the warm night air brushed against your skin. Max sat next to you, closer than usual, the dim light casting soft shadows across his face.

“Do you ever feel like it’s all... too much?” you asked suddenly, surprising even yourself with the question. You weren’t even sure why you asked it, but something about the late night and the quiet moment made you feel like maybe you could.

Max looked over at you, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then he nodded slowly. “Sometimes. More than I admit to most people.”

The honesty in his voice caught you off guard. You turned to him, genuinely curious now. “Really? You always seem so in control...so unfazed.”

He gave a half-smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s all part of it, you know? The cameras, the pressure... you just get good at pretending.”

You looked at him for a moment, seeing past the champion exterior, catching a glimpse of something more vulnerable underneath. It was oddly comforting, knowing he wasn’t as untouchable as you’d thought.

“Well,” you said softly, “you’re pretty good at it. But for what it’s worth, I don’t think anyone’s really in control. Not out there.”

Max turned his head to look at you, his expression softer, more open than you’d ever seen before. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Maybe you’re right.”

There was a pause, his eyes lingered on yours, and you felt your heartbeat pick up. You quickly looked away feeling the tension crackle between you.

"Maybe you’re not quite as annoying as I first thought," you said with a light nudge, trying to break the tension with a small smirk.

Max laughed softly the sound low and surprisingly warm. "High praise coming from you."

But the way he looked at you in that moment made it clear that something had shifted between you. Neither of you said anything else for a while, just sitting there in the quiet night, side by side.

Race Weekend 14 - Dutch Grand Prix

You leaned against the railing of the team’s paddock area, the noise of celebration and chatter swirling around you. It was hard not to smile. You’d just finished in an easy second, your best race yet. It was a personal victory, a testament to all the hard work you’d put in.

But even with the adrenaline still coursing through your veins, a knot of conflicting emotions twisted in your stomach. You had to talk to Max.

As if he sensed your thoughts, you turned to see him walking toward you, a small grin on his face. It was a mix of confidence and camaraderie, and for the first time in a while, you felt less inclined to roll your eyes.

“Great race today,” he said, his tone genuine as he leaned against the railing beside you.

“Thanks,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. “I actually thought I might’ve had a shot at you there.”

He chuckled softly, and you felt your heart flutter at the sound. “You were close. Just need to find a bit more speed in those corners, and you’ll be there.”

You took a deep breath, the earlier tension bubbling to the surface. “You know, it used to annoy me—how you carried yourself, like you were always one step ahead of everyone. Like it was your birth right to be where you are and no one else could catch you.”

Max raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by your honesty. “Yeah?"

You turned to face him, the excitement of the race fading into something more serious. “But now? I get it. You’ve worked your ass off to be the best. It’s not just about talent, it’s about everything you’ve sacrificed. I can see that now. I see it everyday”

He nodded slowly, and the atmosphere shifted between you. “It’s not easy, you know. When everyone expects you to win, and if you don’t, it feels like you’ve let them down.”

The vulnerability in his voice surprised you. It was a reminder that he was human too, grappling with expectations and pressure. “But you handle it all so well,” you said, meeting his gaze. “I respect that.”

A smile ghosted across his lips. “Thanks. That means a lot. I’ve noticed how hard you’ve been pushing yourself this season. It’s impressive.”

You felt warmth spread through your chest at his acknowledgment. “I’ve had to, I can’t just coast along. Not when you’re in the same garage.”

Max’s expression grew serious again. “I know I was... a bit frosty at the beginning. I guess I was too focused on myself to notice how much you were putting in. I don't want this to come across wrong... but it's your first season, and I didn’t want to give you any false hope thinking you could compete with me.”

You frowned slightly, you didn't want to dive into old wounds. “It’s okay. I get it.”

“No, it’s not okay,” he said, shaking his head. “You deserved better. I should have been more supportive. You pushed me too, you know? It’s hard to admit, but you’ve made me work harder, and I appreciate that.”

Your heart raced at his words. There was a sincerity in his tone that softened the rough edges of your previous encounters. You couldn’t help but feel a surge of gratitude mixed with disbelief.

“Really?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah, really,” he replied. “You’ve improved more than I expected in such a short time. It takes guts to put yourself out there and challenge someone who’s been at the top for so long.”

The air between you was charged with a mix of emotions. You nodded*. “Thanks for saying that Max. It means a lot to hear you acknowledge it.”*

He shrugged, trying to downplay the moment, but the corners of his mouth quirked up. “Well, it’s true. Just don’t get too comfortable, I still plan on beating you.”

You laughed, feeling the tension dissipate. “Bring it on Verstappen. I’ll be ready.”

As you stood there, side by side, the competitive fire still smouldering between you, something shifted again—this time, the rivalry felt more like a partnership.

Race Weekend 16 – Azerbaijan Grand Prix

It was early morning Thursday, you and Max found yourselves sitting across from each other at breakfast, still somewhat groggy from travel. The team lounge was quiet, and the two of you were left alone at the table.

“You’re not gonna try and out-eat me too, are you?” Max asked, a teasing smile playing on his lips as he poked at his food.

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t need to out-eat you Max. I’ve already out-qualified you once.”

His eyes lit up in mock offence. “One time! You’re never going to let that go are you?”

“Not a chance,” you said with a grin, taking a bite of your toast. “I’m framing that lap time.”

He narrowed his eyes playfully. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“And you’re too easy to mess with,” you shot back. "Honestly, it's like a gift."

Max laughed, his genuine smile making your stomach flip in a way you couldn’t quite control. He lowered his voice conspiratorially. “I’m just letting you win the mind games. Gotta keep you feeling confident somehow.”

“Oh, so you’re being generous now?” you quipped, raising an eyebrow.

“Always,” he replied with a wink.

The playful banter was natural now, a far cry from the sharp edges and constant tension that had defined your early relationship. There was still competition between you, but now it felt like something that pushed you both forward, rather than tearing you apart.

And as you exchanged another playful jab, you couldn’t help but notice the way both your eyes kept catching each other.

Race Weekend 17 – Singapore Grand Prix

The garage had emptied out, leaving behind only the quiet hum of cooling equipment and the faint clatter of distant tools. A rough race, nothing had gone the way you wanted.

Across the room Max was fiddling with his helmet, but you could tell he wasn’t focused on it. He glanced over at you, then slowly made his way to where you were sitting.

“You okay?” His voice was softer than usual.

You didn’t answer at first, still staring down at your hands trying to shrug off the defeat. “Yeah. Just... it wasn’t my day.”

Max nodded, his gaze steady. “It happens,” he said simply, but there was something in his tone that made you look up.

You sighed, the frustration bubbling over. “I know, but it feels different... I thought I was ready to take that next step the consistency was finally there…and then it just comes crashing back down.”

Max was quiet for a moment and when he spoke again there was a warmth in his voice. “This is a brutal track don't be too hard on yourself. You’ve been doing everything you can, I promise it shows.”

You looked at him, meeting his eyes. “It doesn’t feel like enough.”

Max’s gaze softened, and he took a step closer his hand brushing lightly against your arm. “Trust me, it is.”

The simple touch sent a jolt through you, something unspoken passing between you in that small, fleeting contact. You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could say anything Max moved even closer, and in a moment that felt both surprising and natural, he pulled you into a hug.

At first, you were too stunned to react. The sudden closeness, the warmth of his body against yours—it caught you off guard. But then you felt the solid weight of his arms around you, and you melted into the embrace, resting your head against his shoulder. His body was firm, steady, grounding you in a way that made the tension of the day seem to fade.

The hug wasn’t rushed, it lingered, the quiet between you filled with something heavier than words. But the feel of him, his arms around you, his breath steady against your temple was hard to ignore.

You weren’t sure if it was the exhaustion, the frustration, or something else entirely, but suddenly you were hyper-aware of every movement, the way his breath hitched slightly when you leaned into him, the subtle way his hand trailed down your back before settling again at your waist.

Max’s hands tightened slightly around you, his fingers brushing against the fabric of your shirt. You felt his chin rest lightly on top of your head, and there was something in the way his body pressed against yours that sent your pulse racing.

For a moment it was just the two of you, the rest of the world forgotten. You could feel his heartbeat, steady but strong, and the closeness between you felt almost electric. You weren’t sure who would pull away first, or if either of you even wanted to.

When you finally pulled back neither of you moved far, your faces still inches apart. His hands lingered at your waist, and your breath caught when you saw the way his eyes flickered, just briefly, to your lips.

Neither of you said anything, but the way his fingers flexed slightly against your waist, the subtle tilt of his head, made it clear that you both felt it.

Your heart was pounding, the space between you charged. You could see it in his eyes, the question, the pull, but he didn’t act on it. Instead, he gave you a small almost imperceptible smile before he finally let go.

“You’re going to be fine,” he said, his voice quieter than before.

“Yeah,” you managed, trying to ignore the way your body still hummed from the closeness. “I know.”

Race Weekend 18 - Qatar Grand Prix

It was one of those rare nights when the team wasn’t focused on race strategy or technical debriefs. After a relentless set of races, the team had gathered at a low-lit restaurant lounge for a relaxed evening. Laughter and conversation flowed freely around the long table, and for once the entire team seemed at ease.

You were sitting with a few people and one of the mechanics Adam, was regaling everyone with a wildly exaggerated story about a mishap during a pit stop in his rookie year.

Max was sitting a few seats away, engrossed in a discussion with some of the team, but his eyes kept darting over to you, his gaze narrowing slightly as he observed the scene. His shoulders were tense, and the easygoing expression he’d worn earlier in the evening was replaced by something more guarded. It wasn’t like Max to be this quiet at team gatherings, and you were too distracted to notice at first, focused instead on Adam's ongoing tale.

But the shift in atmosphere caught your attention eventually. As you laughed at another one of Adam's jokes you glanced over to find Max staring your way, his jaw set. He quickly looked away, and downed the rest of his drink in one swift motion.

Curious, you turned back to Adam, who was obliviously leaning in a little closer still chuckling at his own story. And then Max was suddenly standing up, making his way around the table and pulling up a chair directly beside you, a smile plastered on his face that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Hey,” Max greeted, his smile a little forced but convincing enough. “What’s going on over here then? Everyone seems to be having fun.”

Adam grinned and gave him a friendly nod. “Just telling some old war stories. You know how it is.”

“Oh, I bet,” Max replied.

You noticed it right away, especially the way he seemed intent on steering the conversation. “Adam was just telling me about his first-ever pit stop disaster,” you explained still smiling. “It’s been quite entertaining.”

“I’m sure it has,” Max said, but his gaze flickered to Adam again something unreadable in his eyes.

Adam glanced between the two of you, sensing the shift, and gave you a friendly smile before excusing himself to join another group. You watched him go, then turned back to Max noticing the tension still in his jaw.

“So, you came all the way over here to save me from pit lane stories?” you questioned.

Max shrugged, his expression casual. “I just didn’t want you to get bored. Thought you might appreciate something a bit more... entertaining.”

You turned to look at him, amused. “Uh-huh, or maybe you just didn’t want to be left out of the conversation.”

“Maybe. But I was doing you a favour, trust me. You’d have heard all of Adam’s best stories in the first five minutes.” He rolled his eyes.

"Seriously, what’s up?" you asked, genuinely confused by his behaviour.

Max didn’t respond immediately, instead glancing around the table, making sure no one was listening too closely before he spoke. "Nothing. Just... noticed you were getting along pretty well with Adam. I didn’t think he was was your type.”

You blinked, surprised by the unexpected comment. “Oh?” you replied, raising an eyebrow. “And what makes you think you know my type?”

Max shrugged, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “Just an observation,” he said.

You laughed, shaking your head. “Is that so? And what exactly do you think my type is Max?”

He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "I don’t know." He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping lower. “I'd guess someone who doesn’t just talk big but can actually back it up. You know, a real challenge.”

You felt a flicker of heat rush through you at his words, the playful banter quickly taking on a different tone. “A challenge, huh?” you teased. “Funny, I don’t remember you being all that interested in challenges off the track.”

Max's grin widened, his eyes glinting with amusement. “I guess you’ve been paying attention to the wrong things then.”

Your breath faltered, and for a second you wondered if he was going to say something else, if he was going to push this conversation into territory you hadn’t quite prepared for. But then, just as quickly as it started Max leaned back, breaking the moment with a light laugh.

“Don’t overthink it,” he teased with a grin. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

You laughed lightly, shaking your head at his familiar cockiness. “You’re impossible.”

Max just grinned wider. “That's what they tell me.”

For a few minutes you fell into an easy rhythm of teasing each other, the tension from earlier fading completely. Max shifted closer, his knee brushing against yours under the table.

“So, what are you going to do for the break?” he asked, his gaze lingering on your face.

You shrugged, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach at the way he was looking at you. “Probably just spend some time with family, maybe catch up on some sleep. What about you?”

“Hmm, I’m not sure yet,” he said thoughtfully. “Might go back to Monaco, or maybe not. Depends.”

“Depends on what?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Max met your gaze, his expression unreadable for a moment. “Depends on if there’s anything... interesting keeping me around.”

There was a challenge in his eyes that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Or, maybe I’ll just catch up on sleep too,” he added with a wink, steering the conversation back into safer territory.

And before you could respond he reached out for his drink, his hand brushing yours briefly in a way that felt almost accidental. But the touch lingered, the heat of his skin against yours sending a jolt of awareness through you. Your eyes met again, and for a moment, everything else seemed to fade away, the noise of the restaurant, the people around you. It was just you and Max, the world narrowing down to that single point of contact.

Race Weekend 20 – US Grand Prix

The Padel court was quiet, bathed in the late afternoon sun as you and Max stood on opposite sides of the net. This was meant to be a fun break from the track to let off some steam, but the second you both picked up your paddles it became clear neither of you were about to take it easy.

He’d been chirping at you since you got here, claiming he was going to wipe the floor with you. But you’d heard that song before.

"You sure you’re ready for this?" Max called from the other side of the net, casually tossing the ball up and catching it, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "I mean, you can still back out. No shame in admitting defeat early."

You gave him a deadpan look, adjusting your grip on the paddle. "You talk way too much for someone who’s about to lose."

Max rested against his paddle, flashing that familiar smirk. "I’m just letting you believe you have a chance. Keeps things interesting."

You served the ball with a sharp flick of your wrist, sending it careening over the net. Max responded quickly, returning it with ease. The ball bounced between you, a quick exchange of volleys. His movements were swift, confident, but you weren’t about to let him get the upper hand so easily.

"Nice try," Max said after you missed a ball that bounced just out of reach. "You almost looked like you knew what you were doing there."

"Careful Verstappen," you shot back, repositioning yourself for the next rally. "I’m just warming up."

Max laughed, shaking his head. "If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re getting frustrated."

"I don’t get frustrated," you countered, serving the ball again, aiming straight for his side.

"Oh, you definitely do." He easily returned it, the smirk on his face only growing as you both rallied.

You grinned, already feeling the familiar rush of competition surging through you. This wasn’t racing, but it had the same energy—the need to outmanoeuvre, outthink, outplay. And if there was one thing you and Max did well it was push each other’s limits.

"You're really going to make me run for it, huh?" Max panted as he lunged to return a low ball, his paddle barely grazing it.

You smirked. "Wouldn't want you to get too comfortable."

After a particularly long rally, you smashed a shot just out of his reach, winning the point. Max groaned throwing his head back dramatically. "Unbelievable."

You pumped your fist, grinning from ear to ear. "And that’s how it’s done."

"Okay, okay," he wheezed, though his eyes were still bright with amusement. "I’ll give you that one. But don’t think I’m letting you win."

"Letting me win?" you repeated, wiping the sweat from your brow. "That’s cute Max."

Max walked to the net, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "Alright, you got lucky. One point, I’ll give you that."

"One point?" you scoffed, meeting him at the net. "Try four."

"Technicalities," he muttered, but the grin on his face betrayed his playful frustration. He watched you with a glint in his eye. "You know, you’re a lot better at this than I thought."

"Coming from you that means so much." you said dryly.

Max chuckled, his gaze still lingering on you. There was a moment of quiet, the sun casting long shadows on the court, the air between you thick with a kind of unspoken understanding.

"You’re not so bad yourself," you added, breaking the silence but not the tension. "For a guy who spends most of his free time gaming."

Max raised an eyebrow laughing again. "That supposed to be a compliment?"

You shrugged. "Take it however you want."

His grinned. "I think I’ll take it as a compliment."

Before you could reply, he stepped back, tossing the ball in the air. "Alright, rematch. Best two out of three. I’m not letting you walk away with that win."

"You just can’t handle losing to me can you?" you teased, taking your position, ready for another round. "I’m starting to think you just like seeing me sweat."

He chuckled, but the way his eyes lingered on you for a beat longer said more than his words did. "You’re not wrong."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, but there was no denying the subtle shift in the air. It wasn’t obvious or overt, but the dynamic between you had changed in the last few weeks. The teasing was still there, but there was a different kind of energy between you now, one that neither of you had quite acknowledged yet.

You cleared your throat, stepping back and spinning the ball in your hand. "Let’s finish this then. I’ve got a winning streak to keep."

Max’s grin returned, but it was softer now, less competitive and more… something else. "We’ll see about that."

Race Weekend 22 – Brazil Grand Prix

On race day, the tension was palpable. The roar of engines, the smell of burning rubber, and the hum of adrenaline filled the air. Max was standing next to his car helmet in hand, the pre-race jitters barely showing on his face. You caught his eye from across the garage, and for a moment, the world seemed to quiet around you.

You approached, trying to shake off the strange tension that always seemed to linger between the two of you lately. Max’s gaze met yours, steady but with an intensity that made your breath catch for just a second.

“Ready to lose today?” you asked, trying to keep things light, but your voice sounded a little shakier than you’d intended.

Max smirked, stepping closer than necessary. “In your dreams.”

You tried to roll your eyes, but the proximity made it hard to focus. There was a heat in his gaze and you found yourself holding your breath for a moment.

“Don’t get too cocky Verstappen,” you muttered, the playful tone masking the way your pulse raced.

He leaned in just close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him. “I think that’s your job now.”

For a second, it felt like everything had stopped—the noise, the chaos of the track, all fading into the background. But just as quickly the moment passed, and Max stepped back sliding his helmet on.

“See you at the finish line,” he said over his shoulder.

You stood there for a second longer trying to steady your breath, knowing that this race and whatever was happening between you two was far from over.

End of the Season – Abu Dhabi Grand Prix

The season had been a rollercoaster filled with highs and lows. You had stood on the podium for the first time in Canada, a moment that felt surreal after all the hard work. But there had also been heartbreak, a crash in Austria that had cost you valuable points, a mechanical failure in Mexico that had seen you retire from a race where you could have scored big.

Through it all your relationship with Max had continued to evolve. You still raced on track, fighting for every inch of tarmac, but off the track things had changed. There was mutual respect, an understanding that had grown over the course of the season. The animosity that had once defined your relationship was gone, replaced by something more complicated.

The Abu Dhabi Grand Prix was the final race of the season, and the championship was on the line. Max was in a tight battle for the title, and the pressure on both of you was immense.

The night before the race you found Max sitting alone in the team motorhome, staring out at the glowing lights of the Yas Marina Circuit. He looked unusually quiet, his usual air of confidence tempered by the gravity of the situation.

“You ready for tomorrow?” you asked, leaning against the doorway.

Max didn’t look at you, his eyes still focused on the track outside. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

You stepped inside, sitting down across from him*. “You’re going to win it.”*

Max finally turned to face you, a small, almost tired smile on his face. “You sound pretty sure of that.”

“I’ve watched you all season. No one’s better than you out there,” you said simply, meaning every word.

Max shook his head, letting out a short laugh. “You’re not so bad yourself you know.”

You raised an eyebrow.

He shrugged, a playful glint in his eye. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

You had fought hard to get to this point, and though Max was still your fiercest competition, he was also the one person who, you now realised, might understand you better than anyone else.

Abu Dhabi Grand Prix – Race Day

Race day was electric, the air crackling with anticipation. The championship battle had come down to this — the final race of the season, and everything was on the line. Max was in contention for the title, but his rival wasn’t far behind. Every lap, every pit stop, every decision mattered.

You were focused on your own race, but there was an underlying pressure you couldn’t ignore. Max needed you to perform today. If you could help him by holding off the cars behind, or making sure the team strategy worked in his favour, you would.

The race itself was a blur. The car felt good and you pushed hard, determined to finish the year on a high.

As the laps ticked down, the tension in the pit lane grew. Max was leading, but his rival was closing in behind you, and the team was on a knifes-edge. Then, with just a few laps to go, you got the call from your engineer.

“We need you to hold position, keep the cars behind you. Max needs this.”

Your heart pounded in your chest. It wasn’t the call you wanted to hear, but you understood. This was the team game. You weren’t fighting for the championship, but Max was.

“Got it,” you replied, gritting your teeth as you focused on the task ahead.

For the next few laps, you fought with everything you had to keep the cars behind you, giving Max the breathing room he needed. It was arguably the hardest race of your life, the pressure almost unbearable. But when the checkered flag finally fell, you had done it.

Max crossed the line first, securing the championship, and you finished in a solid second place.

The roar of the crowd was deafening, fireworks lighting up the sky as Max stood on the podium, the World Champion once again. You watched him celebrate, a mixture of pride and satisfaction swelling in your chest. You hadn’t won, but in a way you had still achieved something important. You had proven that you could compete at this level, that you could stand with the best.

Later that night, after all the celebrations had died down you found Max sitting alone in the quiet garage, his championship trophy resting beside him.

“Not partying with the team?” you asked.

Max looked up, his face still glowing with the satisfaction of victory. “Needed a minute,” he said, his voice soft.

You stepped inside, sitting down beside him. “You did it,” you said, a small smile on your lips.

Max glanced at you, his blue eyes filled with something deeper than just the thrill of winning. “We did it,” he corrected, his voice sincere.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The weight of the season, the challenges you had both faced, the fights on and off the track — it all hung in the air between you. But there was no tension now, no rivalry. Just understanding.

“You really helped me today,” Max said after a while, his voice quiet but firm. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

You shrugged, trying to play it off, but his words meant more to you than you’d expected. “Just doing my job.”

Max chuckled, shaking his head. “You did more than that.”

You turned to face him fully, your knees brushing against his, the closeness between you suddenly palpable. His eyes were on you, and the look he gave you sent a shiver down your spine.

You met his gaze smiling, the two of you had been through so much together, and now, sitting in the quiet aftermath of victory, it felt like the beginning of something new.

But then the playful smile faded, replaced by a more intense expression. His gaze flickered, dropping to your lips for just a fraction of a second, but it was enough to send your heart racing.

The space between you seemed to shrink. You felt your breath hitch as Max shifted closer, the warmth of his body brushing against yours. His hand moved, almost hesitantly, to your arm, his fingers grazing your skin in a way that made every nerve in your body stand on end.

You could feel it now, the weight of everything unsaid, everything that had built up over the season, all the unspoken moments between you. It was all right there, in the way his hand lingered on your arm, the way his breath caught as his eyes met yours again, more intensely this time.

“You’re not bad at this whole teammate thing,” Max murmured, his voice low.

You rolled your eyes, but the banter was thin now, the words barely a distraction from the way your heart was pounding in your chest. “I guess you're not so bad yourself.”

Max’s smile faded again, his gaze serious, and for a moment, everything else fell away. The garage, the race, the entire championship, none of it mattered. It was just the two of you, sitting there in the quiet.

And then, before you could even process what was happening, Max leaned in.

It was slow at first, as if he was giving you time to pull away, but you didn’t. You couldn’t. His lips hovered just above yours, the space between you almost unbearable, and then finally he closed the distance.

The kiss was soft at first, tentative, but it didn’t stay that way for long. There was too much between you for it to be gentle. His hand came up to cup the back of your neck, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, and you felt your body respond, your heart pounding in your ears.

It wasn’t a kiss born out of victory or celebration. It was something else, something more intense, like all the tension, the rivalry, the unspoken moments between you had finally come to a head. It was raw, charged, and for a moment, it felt like the world had stopped spinning around you.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, Max’s forehead rested against yours, his eyes still closed as he let out a shaky breath.

Neither of you spoke for a long moment. There was a shift now, something irrevocable between you, but it felt right. Like this was where you were always meant to end up.

“You know,” Max murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, “Next year’s going to be interesting.”

You let out a breathless laugh, still trying to catch your breath. “You have no idea.” you teased, nudging him with your shoulder. “Next year, I’m coming for you.”

Max grinned. “I’d like to see you try.”

And as you sat there, still wrapped up in each other you couldn’t help but smile. The season may have ended, but the story between you and Max was far from over.

Do you know anyone else who writes for the older drivers? Wanting to find new reading material

i know a few :/ but here’s a list of some works for the older drivers that i’ve been reading by some very talented people! i’ll try to keep this list updated :)

@norrisleclercf1 has some mafia works withh older drivers that are amazing!!

death of a bachelor series by @astonmartingf

the kids are going to be alright by ^

fernando alonso

complicated by @unsolvedjarin

sebastian vettel

about you series by @drvscarlett

history series by @vettelsvee

grid kids series by @pucksandpower

mrsvettelsgarden by @vivwritesfics

padawan learner by ^

the race that mattered by @lorarri

glory days by @uluvjay

a shared history by @lucyrose191

jenson button

do i wanna know? by @formulafics

tis the dilf season by @beiasluv

tell it to my heart by @lovelytsunoda

mile high club by @bellewintersroe

only way by @starlost97

sweet sugar by @natailiatulls07

something devoured by @agendabymooner

you can’t disappoint a picture by @angsthology

i’ll always want you by @vinvantae

promiscuous boy by @libraryofloveletters

corny by @unsolvedjarin

womaniser by @sv5hive

mark webber

early mornings by @loonylupinblack3

light by @maxillness

vacay by @sweeterlovers

a new term by @whorekneecentral

the problem with following orders by @agendabymooner

brand new by @embrosegraves

nico rosberg

lost in the moment by @mynicosensesaretingling

lewis hamilton

do you remember it all too well by @leclercsainzz

bedtime stories by @alwayschoppedtaco

kimi räikkönen

thawed by @pucksandpower

don’t beat yourself up by @faithshouseofchaos

OSCAR PIASTRI FIC RECS 🌟🤍🐈 in which i show u my favorite oscar fics <3

this christmas by @httpiastri - so so so amazing. who doesn't love a little christmas fluff !?!??! they're so cute and the scenery and setting are soooo good!!!!!! love love love

HEY OSCAR! by @aleskie-hischier - i am a hey stephen #1 fan so i loved this sm. best friends to lovers always hits 🙂‍↕️ absolutely amazing and can't wait to read maybe more oscar from the author ?? who knows

free now by @theonottsbxtch - i am a whore for angst. that's all. also absolutely brilliant and i love it

gorgeous by @priniya - so so so !!!!!!! cute i love

such a klutz! by ^

nobody has to know by ^ - actually so so so amazing 😞 it's so good and also sad and also happy UGH this fic might be perfection

talks like an angel (looks like me) by @spiderbeam - who didn't have a crush on the lifeguard when they were a kid. SOOOOOO amazing i love love love!!!!!! so much

but that's just when you happened by @pastryfication - ☹️☹️☹️ love packing it up and my hopeless romantic heart is hurting after reading this.

en pointe by @scuderiahoney - everything by this author is SO amazing. i'm being fr. go and read EVERYTHING

in motion (series) by ^ - not joking, my ABSOLUTE FAVORITE oscar series ever. the writing had me tearing up (again my inner hopeless romantic) it's so so good. i don't have any words to describe how much i love this. this is a MUST read even if u are not into hockey 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

be brave by ^

in from the rain by ^

tangerine by ^

make you fall in love by @maxivstappen - was giggling and kicking my feet while reading this yup yup!

maiden wins & secret meet ups by @katsu28 - i love love love LOVEEEEEEEEEEE this help mee

part 2: home cooked meals & crashed dinner dates

oscar's a grouch (or is he?) by ^

guts by @harrysfolklore - i adore the f1 driver x popstar trope UGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

table for two by @foreveralbon - so so so so so cute i love ☹️

we never talk about it by @cherry-leclerc - yet again i am a whore for angst. so amazing. i'm amazed. i'm wowed. based on one of my fav songs from short n sweet so i knew that it would be so good. I LOVEEEEE ANGST I LOVEEEEE ANGST I ADORE ANGST

in conclusion NEVER stop writing oscar fics bc i will be reading them until i die!

𝙈𝘼𝙓 𝙑𝙀𝙍𝙎𝙏𝘼𝙋𝙋𝙀𝙉 𝙁𝙄𝘾 𝙍𝙀𝘾𝙎.

— hello everyone !! welcome to the last part of the poll series, lmk if you guys want another one, seeing as my f1 fic recs were so popular !! thank you all again for so much good comments and positivity, it makes me so happy that people enjoy my silly little fic comps ;D. enjoy !!

my poll fic recs !!

— oscar piastri fic recs — lando norris fic recs

[or check out my f1 drivers fic recs]

• my most favorite reads = 🩷

— blurbs and short writings

• tacky tree by @landososcar 🩷

• all i want by @verstappen-cult

• too many kisses by @verstappenverse

• circles back 2 you by @giuseppe-yuki

— oneshots/imagines

• serve by @theonottsbxtch

• my birthday, my love by ↑

• my peace by ↑

• don't wanna be saved by ↑ 🩷

• forever and always by ↑

• mi novio, max verstappen by ↑ 🩷

• teen idle by ↑ 🩷

ann's (@theonottsbxtch) writing is some of the best things that has grazed the earth's surface, which is why i added her BEAUTIFULLY written max fics for everyone to enjoy, you're welcome. ALSO i love love love her f1 driver eye descriptions i read them and i just stared at a wall for like 5 minutes js thinking about them 😭😭 please read them they're so good: here

• she's always a woman by @starkwlkr

• birthday celebration? by @giuseppe-yuki

• secret admirer by ↑

• green light, red flag by @landoughnut

• made with love by ↑ 🩷

— series

• snap out of it by @diqldrunks

➜ part two

— smau

• girl, so confusing by @astonmartinii

• put it all on red (bull) by ↑ 🩷

• rb admin by @leclercwriting

• blowing smoke by @afterglowsainz

• friends by ↑

• positions by ↑

• crying in the club by @pomegranatesarchive

• enemies or lovers by ↑ 🩷

• please date my sister in law by ↑

• miami baby by @norrisainz33

final "chunk" of the poll fic rec series, tell me your feedback i really want to improve my quality of work 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️as always, thank you all SO MUCH !! as always, have an amazing day/night 🌞🧡

Masterlist

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I’m not actively taking requests right now, so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to send them in but know that I don’t know when I’ll be able to get to them!

Keep reading

fqlling4it’s masterlist

formula one

max verstappen

- we can’t be friends (wait for my love)

- sunshine

lando norris

- teenager in love

alex albon

- lover

nhl

quinn hughes

- lake days

girlfriend reveal // mv1 smau

description: norris!reader x mv1

y/d/n = your daughter’s name

a/n: all pics from pinterest, i don’t own any. here’s a smau for my inactivity. i feel some motivation coming back so keep an eye out for some posts!

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1, and 11,738 others

ynnorris: happy moments in spain 🇪🇸

view all comments

landonorris: how dare you not even put your favourite brother in this dump

user1: lando in the bucket hat on the last slide 😇

↳ user2: lando posted earlier today that he was in the uk…

↳ user3: WHO’S IN THE LAST SLIDE YN?!

user4: cutest mum ever!

danielricciardo: i miss my fav norris and niece. im sure she misses her fav uncle

↳ landonorris: im right here…

↳ charles_leclerc: YOU’RE HER FAVOURITE UNCLE? 🤣🤣🤣

↳ carlossainz55: yn’s in spain so clearly im the favourite

↳ oscarpiastri: Nah, it’s me

↳ ynnorris: none of you (besides lando) have any relation to me… you claimed yourselves to be y/d/n’s uncles

↳ landonorris: that means im the favourite uncle 😁

↳ ynnorris: no.

user5: anyone else wondering who’s in the second pic?

↳ user6: yes, prob her kids dad though

↳ user7: idk why she keeps y/d/n’s dad so private and secretive

↳ user8: im going crazy trying to figure out who that is

↳ landonorris: mwahahahaha 😈

liked by maxverstappen1, ynnorris, and 943,291 others

landonorris: summer break has been summer breaking (im the fav AND ONLY uncle)

view all comments

ynnorris: awww you have matching necklaces with your boyfriends, that’s so cute! how dare you not include me in this photo dump.

↳ landonorris: get out of my comment section!!

↳ maxverstappen1: Matching necklaces are in now

ynnorris: now why is my daughter behind the wheel of a car…

↳ landonorris: fake news.

user9: UNCLE LANDO

user10: he will be the best dad one day

↳ ynnorris: please god no.

user11: i love how lando put his niece in his photo dump but not his own sister

↳ user12: he’s a comedian rlly

liked by ynnorris, charles_leclerc, and 683,917 others

landonorris: sister got mad for not being included in the photo dump so here is my big sister and my big sister only!

view all comments

ynnorris: lando. when i catch you lando.

maxverstappen1: yn supremacy!

↳ user13: now what is this.

↳ user14: are we interrupting something?

danielricciardo: those were NOT your cheezits…

↳ ynnorris: im so (not) sorry, y/d/n made me

↳ danielricciardo: nuh uh. don’t you dare pin this on my sweet little angel baby of a niece

↳ landonorris: she’s half norris and half [redacted], don’t put it past her

↳ user15: don’t be shy lando. tell us who the father is

↳ user16: win incoming if you tell us who y/d/n’s dad is

↳ user17: WHO IS YN’S BABY DADDY LANDO NORRIS

user18: the minion toy in the pocket has me dying

user19: we want uncle lando back! even though brother lando is cute too

user20: lando is such a younger brother for posting these pics

liked by carlossainz55, schecoperez, and 819,004 others

maxverstappen1: Summer break ✅. Up next Zandvoort!

view all comments

user21: MAX VERSTAPPEN SOFT LAUNCHING?!

↳ user22: i used to pray for times like these

danielricciardo: okay mr verstappen, i was unfamiliar with your game

↳ maxverstappen1: You have been very familiar with my game

↳ ynnorris: pause. 😧

↳ danielricciardo: hate us cuz you ain’t us 🤷‍♂️

landonorris: no pic credits for the second pic?

↳ maxverstappen1: I have been paid by yn to not give pic credits for people who post bad photos of her

↳ landonorris: traitor

user23: what is it finna play? WOAH

user24: how did we go from cute stingrays to a soft launch

user25: girlfriend reveal now!

user26: walk with me people… yn posts a pic at an aquarium with someone holding y/d/n… max posts a pic of stingrays which are found… at an aquarium

↳ user27: tons of the drivers take y/d/n places with yn, don’t make it weird

user28: max ‘soft launch’ verstappen

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc, and 12,058 others

ynnorris: started zandvoort a mclaren fan, finished zandvoort a red bull fan because i only support winners!

tagged: landonorris

view all comments

user28: the caption has me dying

landonorris: too close to home

↳ ynnorris: win next time then

↳ landonorris: at least y/d/n is still a fan of mclaren

↳ maxverstappen1: Is she though?

↳ redbullracing: is she really?

mclaren: im hurt yn.

↳ ynnorris: it wasn’t you admin, it was me.

oscarpiastri: ouch.

↳ ynnorris: if i ever say i dislike mclaren, never am i talking about you! team 81 all the way

↳ landonorris: wow. i post 3 bad photos of you and now im hated

↳ oscarpiastri: 🙂 thx yn

redbullracing: ❤️💙

user29: uncle lando!!

user30: never wrong yn ✍️

liked by ynnorris, landonorris, and 1,028,564 others

maxverstappen1: Heard people say I should do a girlfriend reveal and I would love to! I can’t do that anymore and haven’t been able to for a few years now but I offer a wife and daughter reveal ❤️

tagged: ynnorris

comments on this post are restricted

landonorris: FINALLY I DONT HAVE TO KEEP MY MOUTH SHUT

↳ danielricciardo: real.

↳ carlossainz55: real.

↳ charles_leclerc: real.

↳ oscarpiastri: real.

↳ schecoperez: real.

↳ mclaren: real.

↳ redbullracing: real.

ynnorris: best dad on earth

↳ maxverstappen1: Best mum on earth

ynnorris: been a long time coming now

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, and 29,371 others

ynnorris: heard we were hard launching?

tagged: maxverstappen1

view all comments

user31: my brain hurts

user32: bro what.

user33: didn’t see this coming

maxverstappen1: My girls ❤️

↳ ynnorris: baby no. 2 when? 🤔

↳ landonorris: threw up in my mouth a little

landonorris: now you can show your love on the internet and not in front of me

↳ ynnorris: never!

↳ maxverstappen1: Never!

↳ user34: poor lando

user35: they’re so cute 😭

user36: dad max?!

redbullracing: so when is little miss y/d/n taking over the red bull legacy?

↳ ynnorris: nope.

↳ maxverstappen1: Have to agree with the mrs. 🙃 (when she can reach the pedals of a kart)

↳ ynnorris: you’re so funny!! 😐😐

loml

pairing: max verstappen x reader

summary: a journey through your relationship with max

a/n: so for a little background... my ex (he wasn't an F1 fan, it was never gonna work, let's be real) broke up with me the night before this album was released, so writing this series has been very healing; however, this one was extremely difficult to write bc it's the only song i can't analytically listen to and find the deeper meanings yet, especially after losing your first love. sorry for the rant and making this short🙃

tw: emotional abuse, manipulation

masterlist ttpd masterlist

________

You and Max were fan favorites, it was evident to anyone with eyes who had eyes. But they say you never know what happens behind closed doors.

“She’s the love of my life,” Max would always say about you, looking at you like you held the universe in the palm of your hand. His fans could recite your love story by heart from how much he loved to talk about you. It only made sense that he could shatter that public opinion.

“Y/n and I have divorced, I would like to ask for privacy as we navigate the changes,” Max posted one day, his socials wiped of everything. Your accounts remained the same, your last post being from the fateful race months ago. You haven’t posted since. The fans should’ve realized when the WAGs and George unfollowed Max.

Your apartment was full of things that reminded you of Max, every time you walked in it reminded you of every memory. He was embroidered in everything. You look at a printed photo of when you first met him. Despite it being six months later, you couldn’t get rid of him.

~~~

All it took was locking eyes with him across the pier for you to fall in love on that breezy summer day. He walked up to you and asked you to join him, and you did. You kissed him at the top of the ferris wheel later that night, and you didn’t even know he was famous all you knew was that he made you feel safe. The breeze reminded you of the warm ocean breeze from that day, one you called the winds of fate.

Despite being young, you married him after a year of being together. Things weren’t perfect even then, he could be incredibly mean, but he was also a standup guy when it mattered. That erased any wrongdoing of his.

“You have made me a better man, you reformed me, the love of my life,” Max had said that fall evening, repeating the one line that brought you back to him every time.

You believed his words, his lies spun to make you believe the hell you were living in was actually heaven. When he takes his anger out at you, doesn’t defend you against his father, you start to second guess him but he calls you those four words.

“I’ll never leave you, Schatje,” Max holds you in his arms, your back against his chest as you both look at a tv in the Paddock. The fans loved that photo, calling your love legendary. They didn’t know about the growing hole in your heart.

Your marriage was looking like one of those black and white movies you and Max watch on snowy winter afternoons. You and Max had been talking about starting a family, but you couldn’t get pregnant and you were watching everything you loved slip away.

“God, Max, you are like a con-man. I feel like I’ve been sold a get-love-quick scheme. What happened to you?” you ask, voice laced with hurt, during an argument about it. Max just ignored you, pushing past to stream with some friend. He ignored the sobs coming from your bedroom. He told the chat that you are the love of his life when asked about you.

“Y/n, we need to talk,” some of the WAGs pulled you aside during a race. They told you how Max was shit talking you to other drivers, saying you were a waste of a wife for your inability to get pregnant, saying he should’ve never married you, pointing out every flaw he told you was beautiful when he was lying to your face. You stand up and leave, not saying a word even when the girls try to stop you. Max is confused but simply responds to your text saying you were sick with an okay.

You are laying in your bed sobbing when Max gets back from the race. You face the terrace, where you and Max would dance under the stars. You can see the ghosts of it through your tears, and you wished you could un-recall when you thought you had everything.

“Please get out of bed,” Max says, his concerned tone laced with venom. Maybe the ghosts of your relationship are embarrassed by the scene on the other side of the glass.

“No,” you cry, mourning the loss of your counterfeit relationship.

“I’ll be back in a few hours,” Max sighs leaving the room. You sent a text to the WAG group chat who helped you remove all your belongings from Max’s apartment into George’s apartment that he wasn’t using at the moment.

Your phone is flooded with messages from Max, so you turn it off unless you are talking to your lawyer. Max finds a divorce petition and your apartment key on the dining room table when he comes home from training a few days later. The relationship that had such a valiant roar ended with the blandest goodbye.

You sit in George’s apartment with Carmen and Lily drinking wine. You took over George’s lease after they insisted that you did.

“For someone who claims to be a lion, he sure is a manipulative coward,” Carmen says as the three of you comb through the years of lies he spun.

You took the dreams that you thought you and Max wanted and lit the match to destroy them with your divorce papers. Despite your somber eyes, you seem more at peace, even with the sadness you will carry with you until you die.

“He’s the loss of my life.”

He gave me the two things I wanted on my birthday. Being surprised and stuffed toy bears from MINISO. I was so flattered and shocked because he spent money to give me the bears and he told me before that he didn’t give anyone gifts. So what a surprise? The most special birthday from that time.