max Verstappen x single mom!reader
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warnings: cursing, jos is an even bigger asshole, barely proofread, logan's there, glazed-over mentioning of childhood trauma Summary: Max has it all...right? Besides, he's too busy collecting trophies and completing side quests for anything else. Until... You moved across a whole ass ocean to start over, uprooting you and your son's lives to become social media admin for cars that drive in circles. word count: 7937 (i got so carried away holy shit) auth.note: listen, eagle boy swayed me with his pretty eyes and soft voice... also this was a great excuse for me to rewatch Mulan for the millionth time. spotify: i made a playlist
"Team meeting in ten," GP commented.
Max nodded, eyes following y/n through the window as she paced in the small courtyard, talking on her phone. He hadn't seen or spoken to her since they'd finished the Q and A the day before. Surprisingly, he'd actually enjoyed it. He told himself it was because she'd made sure to gather thought provoking questions, not because some of his answers had made her laugh and her laugh made him feel relaxed. GP turned to look out the window and Max quickly looked down at his plate, even though he'd just taken the last bite of his breakfast. When the engineer turned back, Max could feel his amused expression.
"Looks like it might rain," GP said casually.
Nodding again, Max washed down the last of his food with his coffee. "More chances for fuck ups."
"It's not a crime."
He finally looked up. "What?"
GP nodded towards the window.
"If rain was a crime, would they put god in prison?" Max asked, keeping his face blank when his friend snorted and rolled his eyes.
"You're not a robot, Max."
From the corner of his eye he could see her approaching Christian, who was coming from the garage. "I never said I was."
"Then stop acting like one. You're still young, I guess you're attractive, and you're at the top of your career."
"Thank you for that endorsement," Max said drily. Horner had stepped aside with y/n, whose hands were moving as she spoke to him. "I'll be sure and put it in my Tinder profile."
GP's eyebrows lifted. "You have one?"
"Fuck no." He pushed his chair back. "I don't have time."
"Max," his friend sighed.
"I'll see you at the meeting." He took care of his dishes, making sure to thank the staff working the dining area before leaving the motorhome, telling himself it was so he could get some fresh air and clear his head for the meeting. His legs carried him around the corner to where y/n and Christian were still talking, and he boldly approached.
"…speak to him." Christian shot a look at Max.
"If he was joking I wouldn't think twice about it.," y/n said, frowning. "But I don't see how it could have been. He was extremely rude, implied I wasn't worth hiring based on my looks, and…"
Max kept his mouth shut, knowing she needed to do the speaking. Giving her a faint nod when she looked at him, he felt a glimmer of pride when she straightened her shoulders.
"I didn't spend four years in college – sorry, university – and work three jobs at once to be demeaned. I know I have the skills and drive to do my job, but if this team continues to foster that sort of toxic environment you'll have to look for a new social media admin," she said firmly.
He tried to but couldn't keep the smile from forming.
Christian looked slightly impressed, giving her a reassuring nod. "I understand. He's not employed by us, he's only here by our good graces."
"I know he's the father of the your top driver, and I spoke with him before coming to you," she said, as though Max wasn't standing right there.
Christian pressed his lips together and Max knew he was trying to hide his smile. "Of course. We'll deal with it, I promise."
"Thank you." She relaxed, sighing softly. "I'm not trying to cause trouble, Mr. Horner."
"It's Jos fucking Verstappen, he's the trouble," Christian muttered. "Don't worry, alright? If anyone ever gives you a problem, reach out to me."
She nodded. "Thanks again. Oh!" She turned to Max, smiling hopefully. "I already asked Checo and he said yes to doing it this week. Would you be up to 24 hours with you at Monaco? Not the full 24 hours since I don't want to watch you sleep, but I just stick with you for the rest of the day and show fans a behind the scenes look at what a practice or quali day for you looks like."
"Why?" he asked, still stuck on the thought of her watching him sleep.
"Well! Casual fans don't realize how much work goes into being you. The training and diet and analyzing and teamwork. All the stuff you do even before practice and quali, like walking the track."
"For the whole day."
"Yeah, except for sleeping. I mean, that would probably really ramp up views, but—"
"I'm not that interesting though," he said. Why would anyone want to spend a practice or quali day with him?
"Oh don't start with the modesty. You're an elite athlete. I'm not asking you to invite me into your bedroom and let me show your bed to the world, just a small peek at what you're like. We can highlight your sim racing, explain how it's helped you learn the tracks so well. Talk about your suit, why the fireproof is so important." She tipped her head. "Maybe a shot of your suitcase to prove you do have clothes other than Red Bull gear? If you do, because I'm beginning to think you only have one pair of jeans and a Red Bull shirt."
He laughed at that, shaking his head. "I guess I can do it. We'll see how Checo's goes."
"Perfect. Speaking of, I'm doing that tomorrow so I gotta start posting to hype it up—"
"Meeting in two minutes," Christian told them.
Max looked at him, chagrined to admit he'd forgotten the man was there. "On the way," he promised, rubbing the back of his neck when Christian shot him a knowing look and headed off. Turning back to y/n, he cleared his throat. "I'm not showing my suitcase to the world."
"Is it that embarrassing?" she asked, clicking her tongue in sympathy. "Do you have Red Bull boxers too?"
"No, I—" he cut off, remembering the company's joke birthday gift to him the year before. "Okay, I do, but they're not in my suitcase."
"At least let me throw a team logo pillow on the bed—"
"Absolutely not."
She fell into step next to him, an extra bounce in her walk. "Are you saying there's already one there?"
He shouldn't say it. It would probably be inappropriate. He told himself that repeatedly, even as he drew a breath and opened his mouth. "Why the interest in my bed?"
"I told you, I love sleep. Oh." She frowned. "It'll be a hotel bed anyway."
Opening the motorhome door for her, he glanced up at the cloudy sky as the aroma of flowers he couldn't identify washed over him. "No?"
"Are you saying you get an Airbnb?" she asked in confusion. "Do they even have that in Monaco—"
"You didn't know? I thought you asked Google everything," he teased.
Her brow furrowed deeply. "Didn't know what?"
"I live in Monaco. So no, it wouldn't be a hotel room."
The confusion melted away, her eyes widening a little. "Oh. Wow."
"Wow?" he echoed, heading to the stairs.
"You're rich rich."
"Don't say that," he requested, making a face. She made wealth sound dirty.
"In my defense I didn't think to look up everyone's salary when I got hired. I mean I knew you were rich, but—"
"Stop saying it—"
"Sorry." She smiled sweetly, which told him she wasn't sorry at all. "Have a good meeting, Max. Oh, wait!"
He stopped at the top of the stairs, huffing when she lifted her phone and snapped a photo of him. "Why do you need a picture of me right now?"
"To show the world that even Max Verstappen, three time world champion, record breaker and maker, is sometimes late for a meeting."
Dragging a hand over his face, he sighed. "You're in a strange mood today."
"I'm getting comfortable. It's what I do. Lull everyone into thinking I'm sweet and quiet, then once I know I can relax I let my true self out."
"I'm scared to ask what your true self is," he admitted, ignoring his phone when it began to buzz with a phone call.
"Chaos," she told him, snapping another photo. "And I'm so putting a team logo pillow on your bed next week."
"No," he warned her as she turned to go back down the stairs. "No pillow."
"Go to your meeting or I'll post on Twitter than you have Red Bull boxers!"
"You wouldn't."
"Try me, rich boy."
And, damn everything, he laughed. She spun at the bottom of the stairs, giving him a smile that was pure sunshine. Not about to tempt fate, he held up his hands in surrender and went to the conference room for the meeting, still smiling as he slid into his seat next to Checo. When the meeting was over he hung back, his smile long gone as he waited for whatever Christian had to say.
"Two things," Christian started, leaning back in his seat with a sigh.
Max rolled his water bottle between his hands and stayed silent.
"Your dad."
He nodded. "I'll talk to him—"
"He's on probation now. If he so much as looks at anyone the wrong way, he'll be banned from the garage and the paddock." Christian steepled his hands. "It would probably be best if I did it now, but…"
"I'll talk to him," Max said again, already dreading that conversation. "Sometimes he speaks before he thinks, and unfortunately y/n was on the receiving end."
"Are you defending him?"
"No. I'm saying…" What was he saying? He didn't even know himself, so how could he explain it to Christian?
"You're saying what he would expect you to say. Max." Christian leaned forward. "I know he's your father. But – what did y/n say? He creates a toxic environment."
Max was on his feet and pacing before he realized he was moving. "What do you want me to do? Cut him out of my life completely? He's my dad. He made me who I am." Slinging his cap onto the table, he ran a hand through his hair. "He gave up on a marriage so I could achieve my dreams. I know people call it abuse and yeah if I could change the past I would, or at least some parts, but… Would I be me if he didn't do what he did?"
Christian sighed and Max hung his head. The bitterness between team principal and his father had been around as long as he could remember. And he understood, he did. Most days even he didn't like Jos that much.
"What he said to y/n was unacceptable. I know that. When she told me, I…" He paused, unsure whether he wanted to admit what his first thoughts had been. Starting to pace again, he stopped at the window and looked outside, noting that the earlier clouds had rolled away. "I was ready to tell you to ban him."
Christian nodded. "You sure you want to talk to him? Because I'll do it. I don't have a problem telling him to go fuck himself."
"I should do it," Max said with a sigh.
There was silence from Christian, and Max finally snatched up his hat and sat back down. "I'll do it, Max."
He would never admit to the rush of relief at those words. "What was the other thing?"
"Y/n."
He set his jaw. "What about her?"
"She's off limits."
Max blinked. "How do you mean?"
"I've seen the way you look at her."
He pinched his eyebrows together. He wasn't aware he'd been looking at her in any particular way. He just…looked at her. It was true that she did make him smile a little bit more than he usually did, but that had to be due to her self-professed chaos—
"It's in her contract. Yours too, I'm sure."
"I'm – Nothing's happened." Yes, she'd slept in his private room and yes, his sheets had smelled of her and given him dreams he shouldn't have been dreaming. But nothing else had happened.
Soft hands, plush hips, bright eyes, lush mouth—
"Keep it that way. We can't afford another PR disaster."
Max snorted, unsure how anything he did – not that he would do anything – with y/n could come close to the disaster Christian had caused. "I'm not texting her, so."
"Cheeky bastard," Christian muttered. "Go get prepped for practice."
Grabbing his water bottle from the floor, Max left. Off limits. What the hell did that even mean? He couldn't be friendly with her? He couldn't keep his promise to watch a movie with Kevin?
Fuck Christian anyway, he wasn't one to talk about someone being off limits, he decided. He went down for another coffee, inconspicuously looking around for y/n. Not seeing her, he turned his attention to the upcoming practice, trying his best to push his worries about his father to the back of his mind.
When he approached the garage he saw her, and he frowned slightly when he saw Logan talking to her. Did they know each other? They obviously did, judging by the way she laughed at something he said. Sourness filled his mouth and he gulped down his water, grunting when a hand suddenly clapped his shoulder.
"Mate, you coming out tonight?" Lando asked with a grin.
"Not a good idea to go out before quali, mate," Max said automatically.
"I'm not gonna get drunk. A few of us are just going out to eat. You in?"
"I think I'll skip it. But we'll go out Sunday?"
Lando's grin widened and Max chuckled, knowing he was remembering what little he could of the celebration in Miami. Lando loved to party after a race. "Absolutely. Good practice, yeah?"
Max grinned, bumping fists with him before they parted. The American was still talking to y/n. Didn't he need to get ready? Go fluff his hair or something? Walking up to them, he nodded at Logan. "Have a good practice alright, mate?"
"Oh, yeah, better get to the garage." Logan turned and flashed a smile at y/n. "I'll see you later, okay?"
"Sure. Be safe," she said.
She was smiling a little too hard, in his opinion. And then she was—
Hugging? Him?
Max felt like he might vomit.
"Later, Max," Logan said as he jogged off.
"What did he want?" Max asked.
She looked up from checking something on her camera. "Hm? Oh, nothing, just chatting. He's nice."
"Yeah, a complete sweetheart," he said with a roll of his eyes. Then, shoving the sourness away, he cleared his throat. "I've got the sim racing tomorrow after quali, then the race is Sunday."
Y/n blinked, then nodded slowly. "Yes?"
"I promised Kevin we'd watch the movie?" he reminded her.
"Oh, yeah. Don't worry about it, I know you're too busy. He hasn't even mentioned it again, I'm sure he's already forgotten." She turned slightly and knelt to take pictures of his car in the garage.
"But I promised."
"Max, it's really not that big a deal."
It was. To her it might not be. If she couldn't do something with her son when she had promised she could, she was able to do it another time. He couldn't just show up to her flat to watch a movie. And Kevin had been so excited… He tried not to remember all the promises that had been made to him as a child, promises he had learned at an early age would never be kept. "Y/n…"
She looked up at him, drawing a breath to, he was sure, tell him again that it was fine. But she paused, studying his face, and he heard her sigh as she lowered the camera. "This is really important to you, isn't it?"
"And to Kevin," he pointed out.
"He did talk about it a lot last night before he went to sleep. Made sure the hotel tv had Disney plus and asked if Ellie would buy some popcorn…" She sighed, smiling. "Did you want to do it next week before Monaco?"
"I was thinking today? After the practice and debrief. If you're not too busy," he added, unintentionally looking towards the Williams garage.
"No, I don't have any plans. Just editing and posting, and I can do that while you two watch a movie. I've got plans for dinner, but there's plenty of time."
"Plans?" he asked, trying his best to sound casual.
"Yeah! Logan offered to take me out to see a little of the town. He's offered to be my tour guide."
At night. Now he knew he would vomit. "How delightful," he managed.
"Yeah, he's sweet. Don't worry, I won't give away any secrets."
The sourness returned, doubled, and he recognized it now as jealousy. Which was beyond ridiculous, because she wasn't his to be jealous over. Seeing that she was about to stand he immediately offered his hand, easily steadying her as she rose to her feet.
"Thanks."
He wondered what sort of cream she used on her hands. They were so soft. "Y/n—"
"Max!"
Y/n's smile faded and she practically snatched her hand away. "I'll message you the hotel info," she said, turning on her heel and sweeping into the garage.
"I need to talk to you," his father demanded.
Looking into the garage, he saw that he had a full thirty minutes before practice began. No way out of this conversation. Nodding, he followed his father to a relatively secluded spot, keeping his head down.
*-*
"His father is such an asshole, honestly. We were talking outside the garage and he marched up like he owns the—" Y/n glanced to make sure Kevin still had his headphones on and wasn't listening in. Seeing that he did and wasn't, she turned back to Ellie. "—fucking place and barked at him all 'I need to talk to you' like the guy isn't about to go out on the track."
Ellie made a face. "What a prick. What did he have to say to him that was so important?"
Y/n shrugged, bending to gather the dirty pair of socks off the floor. "No idea. He dragged him off and I could see them but couldn't hear anything. I felt so bad for Max."
"I would have too. And he didn't say anything when he got back to the garage?" Ellie smoothed the bedding while y/n stuffed the dirty laundry into a sack.
"Not to me." Sighing, y/n dropped the sack inside the bathroom and then got down on her hands and knees to make sure nothing embarrassing was lying around. "He looked like a kid getting yelled at, Ellie. I had no idea his dad was that much of an—"
She saw Kevin moving and stopped, getting to her feet while he set his tablet and headphones on the table. "Gotta pee, mama," he said, sliding out of the chair.
"Did you finish your game?" she asked while Ellie looked around to make sure the hotel room was presentable.
"Yeah, it's easy," Kevin said.
"Are you gonna tell him?" Ellie whispered.
"No… What if he can't make it? I don't want to get his hopes up." Y/n pushed the chair in at the table and checked the tablet, seeing that Kevin had indeed finished the alphabet game she'd downloaded that morning for him.
"If he doesn't come, maybe we can—" Ellie laughed when there was a knock at the door. "Never mind."
"It might not be him," y/n muttered, even though she knew it had to be. He'd been so insistent, and she'd been able to tell that it was possibly more important to him than it would be to Kevin.
"I'll make sure the lil rugrat washes his hand," Ellie murmured, slipping into the bathroom.
Y/n rubbed her hands on her thighs and went to open the door, giving the hotel room one last glance before doing so. And, just as she'd known, Max was in the hallway. "Hey," she greeted softly, eyes widening a little when she saw he was wearing a pair of sweats and a hoodie. "Holy shit, you're allowed to wear non-Red Bull clothes?"
He snorted, letting out a laugh when she just stared at him. "Very funny."
"No, no, I'm serious. Isn't that in your contract or something?" Stepping back, she finally gave him a grin. "C'mon in."
"I don't know if he's allowed, but I brought some sweets." Max held up the grocery bag hanging from one finger.
"Yeah, he's allowed. No allergies or anything," she assured him, closing the door once he'd stepped inside. "He's washing his—"
"Mister Max!"
Y/n nearly teared up. Her son sounded so excited, and she had a moment of panic for letting him befriend Max. He was too busy to drop by regularly, and after Monaco Kevin would be staying home with Ellie, so—
"There's my little mate!"
Fuck's sake, even Max sounded excited. As though a movie with a three year old was the height of his day. Looking on as he swung Kevin up and spun him in a circle, she took the bag and emptied the packets onto the table while Ellie greeted Max and brought out the popcorn from where she'd hidden it from Kevin. Max and Kevin talked nonstop to one another, Max telling him about practice after Kevin gave him a detailed report on what he'd done all day. The boy grabbed his tablet and showed him the games he'd played, showing off his alphabet skills.
"You're good with letters, yeah? Maybe you'd be good learning a new language?" Max suggested.
"Do you know a new language?" Kevin asked.
"He's really good with him," Ellie whispered to y/n.
"Shh," she hissed. Because she already knew. And she didn't need it pointed out to her. Besides, she was listening to Max tell Kevin about the languages he spoke, then to him rattle off a few sentences in each one, much to Kevin's amazement.
"Can you teach me?" he asked hopefully.
"When I can, kleine maat." Max ruffled Kevin's hair. "That means little mate."
"You're my big mate," Kevin decided.
"Grote maat," Max said, repeating it slowly a couple times before Kevin said it properly. "There you go. You'll be speaking Dutch like a pro in no time."
"You want a drink, Max?" Y/n offered. "We don't have Red Bull, sorry—"
"Water's fine. Thanks."
"Can I have water too, mama?"
Nodding, y/n fixed their drinks while Kevin turned on the TV and opened Disney+, rolling her eyes when he told Max the password so he could put it in for him. She saw that Ellie was putting on her shoes and raised her eyebrows. "Where are you going?"
"Oh, I don't want to intrude on big mate, little mate bonding time," Ellie said with a small smile. Peeling Kevin from Max long enough to give him a quick hug, she grabbed her wallet and phone. "And I've seen Mulan about six hundred times, so I'm just gonna go for a walk. Take pictures. Get a coffee and a pastry."
"Have fun," y/n said.
"Mhmm, you too," Ellie said with a smirk as she left.
She rolled her eyes and handed Max his drink then Kevin his cup. Motioning for Max to have a seat on the small sofa, she couldn't help but smile when Kevin immediately climbed to sit next to him, and had the feeling that before the movie was over her son would be cuddled close to his big mate.
"Join us?" Max asked while Kevin looked for the movie.
"Work," she reminded him, transferring the sweets and popcorn to the coffee table and getting her laptop. "I'll watch from here."
"It doesn't look very comfortable."
"It shouldn't. It's work."
He looked ready to argue, but instead took a sip of his water and grabbed a bag of candy. Tossing it onto the table, he gave a small shrug when she looked at him. "You said you like strawberry milk."
Y/n looked from him to the bag several times. He remembered that? She'd mentioned it during the Q and A, when the question had been other than red bull what's your favorite drink? Staring at the bag, she felt a sudden rush of warmth. No one had bought her candy in so long… "Thank you," she murmured.
"You're welcome," he said softly.
She almost told him he didn't have to, but she knew that he already knew that. He'd done it because… She didn't know. Maybe to apologize for his father's behavior. Maybe to show he listened. Maybe, just maybe, because he'd seen it in the shop, remembered her liking strawberry milk, and had bought it because that was something he did, buy a little something for no other reason than you said you liked it.
She tried to focus on work, but the movie kept getting her attention. Finally she gave up, scheduling the posts she'd edited and closing her laptop. Grabbing a bottle of water, she joined them on the sofa as Mushu revealed himself to Mulan. As she'd expected, Kevin had already crawled into Max's lap, sharing his bag of popcorn with the man as they both focused on the movie.
"Mama," Kevin whispered, reaching for her.
She scooted closer, sighing as he turned so he could lean against her arm. Max shifted, and she tried to act nonchalant when he draped his arm behind her on the back of the sofa. Smoothing her son's hair, she pretended not to notice when the arm slid to her shoulders. He probably hadn't even noticed, she told herself, aware that his eyes were locked on the TV screen, paying attention to the movie. When Kevin's favorite part began he sat up, quickly sliding to the floor to sing along and she fully expected Max to pull away from her.
But he didn't, and she pulled her knees up, unable to focus on anything except the weight of his arm around her. It was solid but not uncomfortable, a very real reminder that she hadn't been in this position in a very long time.
"He's so mean," Kevin mumbled as Shun-Yu appeared on the screen. Y/n waited for him to hurry over to climb into her lap but he chose Max instead, and she bit back a sigh when the man gently soothed him, hugging him close.
"It's okay, kleine maat. The good guys will beat him, yeah?" he murmured, pausing the movie.
Kevin nodded against Max's shoulder. "Yeah but he's bad."
"A lot of people are," Max said softly. "But if we focus on that we don't see the good. Do you think about your happy days more or your bad days?"
"Happy days," Kevin said.
"Because they make you happy, yeah? If you think about bad days you'll always be having them. It's like that with people. Focus on the good and do what you can to keep the bad from happening. Bad happens, but the good will always be there."
"Okay."
"You ready to finish the movie?" Max asked gently.
Kevin nodded.
Max finally looked at y/n, glancing down when he saw the way she was staring at him. "I didn't—"
"No, you're good," she promised in a whisper, picking up the remote to resume the movie then hugging her knees. If she didn't occupy her arms, she would throw them around him. Usually she had to explain those things to Kevin. Ellie helped, of course, but Kevin always came to her for more explanation after a life lesson. But Max… He'd explained it so eloquently and gently that he'd understood. And she didn't know why, but, god help her…
It was the sexiest thing she'd ever witnessed.
His arm stayed around her shoulders through the rest of the movie. When Mulan was cast out, she got a little emotional as she always did, even after over six hundred views, and she felt his arm tighten around her, hesitating a tiny bit before letting her head lean against him. All she could smell now was him, the gentle but memorable sandalwood and amber scent that she remembered well from the day before.
"Gotta pee," Kevin announced a little bit later, clambering down and running to the bathroom. Max took the remote to pause the movie.
Y/n began to pull away, lifting her head when he squeezed her arm.
"You're fine," he whispered.
His face was so close. Seeing a tiny piece of popcorn on his chin, she reached up to brush it away, freezing at the sound of his sharp inhale. "Sorry, you got a little…"
When the hell had his eyes become so blue? Just a day ago they'd been a normal blue. Now they reminded her of the antique blue willow china her great grandmother had treasured. Her gaze slipped to his mouth and quickly moved back to his eyes and she heard him inhale again.
"Max?"
"Y/n, I…" His eyes flicked down and she unconsciously licked her lips.
She knew she shouldn't but she suddenly, desperately, wanted to know what it was like to kiss him. She hadn't thought about kissing anyone in what felt like a lifetime, but now she needed it. Lifting her chin slightly, she dropped her hand to his chest. "Max—"
"Y/n, you… I—"
"Okay!"
She snatched herself away from Max as though she'd been burned, going so far as to jump to her feet while Kevin rushed back to the sofa. "Go ahead and hit play, I'll be back in just a minute," she promised, nearly tripping over nothing in her haste to get as far away from Max as possible. "Hit play, it's fine, I've seen it a million times."
Once in the bathroom she closed the door and leaned against it, covering her face with both hands. What the hell was wrong with her? Just because she hadn't been kissed since— She dropped her hands, wrinkling her nose in thought. Kevin was three years and two months, and… At any rate, it had been so long she'd assumed she was never going to be kissed again. She hadn't even thought about it in ages, because she'd been so focused on work and raising her son and trying to survive. Now, all of a sudden, she was craving one so bad she'd practically begged him.
He'd been about to tell her he couldn't. She was sure of that. Which only made it even more embarrassing. How could he even want to? She'd seen the girlfriends of other drivers on the grid, there was no way he'd be even remotely interested in her. She wasn't a model or tennis star or whatever their occupations were.
Not to mention she couldn't. It would be wrong on so many levels. What kind of impression would her behavior leave on her son? Not to mention the troubles it would cause at work? And it was in her contract that any sort of fraternization with other members of the team were forbidden. She'd known that but she had read the full contract on the flight to Italy. If she and Max did anything it would eventually come out and she'd be jobless again, this time in a foreign country.
Checking her phone when she felt it buzz in her pocket, she sighed while reading Logan's text.
We're still on right?
She wanted to say no. The best thing for her to do would be to suffer through the rest of the movie, say goodbye to Max, have an early dinner, put Kevin to bed, then take the world's coldest shower. But she was already typing out her reply.
Of course! Looking forward to it.
And she was, she thought, seeing the delivered change to read then the three little dots that he was typing a message. Logan was fun. Nice. Completely uninterested in her romantically, she thought with a sigh.
Great. Be there at 8 to pick you up. Give Kev a high 5 for me?
Will do.
Pushing away from the door, she turned on the water to wash her hands and jumped slightly when there was a gentle knock.
"Y/n?"
"I'm almost done," she called.
She heard his sigh. "Can I come in?"
No. "Yeah, sure."
He opened the door and stepped in, and she swallowed when he closed the door behind him. "I…"
"Max, don't," she groaned, washing her hands and grabbing the towel. "You don't have to tell me you wouldn't have… Even if I wanted you to. I know."
"Wouldn't have what?" he asked.
God, could the moment get any more embarrassing? "I – You – Jesus, never mind."
"Kiss you?" he murmured.
Why did the way he said it sound like so much more than a kiss? "It's fine. Go back and finish the movie."
"Y/n, I can't."
"You have to leave?" she asked.
"What – no, not the movie," he said. Cupping a hand over his mouth, he breathed deeply and dropped his hand after a few seconds, looking pained. "I can't kiss you."
"Oh." Oh. "Do you have a girlfriend or—"
"If I had a girlfriend I wouldn't be in this tiny toilet with you."
And she believed him. He didn't seem the type to put himself in a situation that could be misinterpreted if he had a partner. "Right. Of course. Then…"
"It's…" He sighed.
"Are you gay? Because I won't tell any—"
"I'm not gay," he cut in gently. "It's… I'm not allowed to kiss you."
She blinked, suddenly understanding. And she wondered if he'd read the contract, too. "Right. Neither am I."
"Christian talked to you too?"
"No? Why would he?"
"He told me you're off limits." Max shook his head. "Said I look at you or something."
"Oh." He did? And just how did Max look at her? "I see."
"And it's in our contracts. Yours and mine, I mean. So… I can't."
She nodded. "Of course. Understood. No more explanation necessary, Max."
"I wouldn't want you to lose your job," he said softly.
She continued to nod. "Got it. Thanks."
He tipped his head, then reached to take the towel from her and she realized she was still drying her hands. "I'll still be Kevin's friend."
Still nodding, she picked up her hand cream and squeezed a dollop into her palm. "Thanks. He likes you."
"I like him too." He hesitated, watching her carefully. "You okay?"
"Peachy keen," she promised, rubbing the cream into her hands. "Just getting ready for my dinner."
His lips settled into a fine line. "Your date."
The way he said it irritated her. As though she was in the wrong for making plans with a new friend. "It's not a date, but yes."
"I'm sure you'll have a wonderful time," he said with absolutely no emotion.
"Well, he's not contractually obligated to be nice to me, so… I know I will," she said, forcing as much sweetness into her voice as possible.
"I'm not nice because of a contract," he snapped.
"Right, sorry, my mistake. He won't not kiss me because of a piece of paper," she corrected.
Max's eyes flashed, a muscle in his jaw twitching. "I thought it wasn't a date?" he asked carefully.
Good, at least he had some emotion. "Oh, so I'm only allowed to kiss him if we're on a date?"
"I didn't say—" He cut off, pressing his lips tight together and exhaling slowly. "You said it wasn't a date."
"Why do you care either way?"
"Is it a date or not?" he ground out.
"It's not." She took her hair down from the ponytail as he sighed with something like relief. "But it could be in the future."
"What, so you'll kiss him because I won't kiss you?"
"If I kiss him, it'll be because both of us want it," she said. She knew she was being silly, maybe even a little stupid. But he was acting as though he were doing her a favor. As though he were somehow honorable, a gentleman even, because he refused to do what she now knew they both wanted.
"Y/n, I can't—"
"A word I'm sure you're not used to saying about yourself," she muttered under her breath.
"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, an edge in his voice.
"I didn't know that 'can't' was in your vocabulary is all." Looking at her phone to check the time, she cleared her throat. "Now, if you don't mind, I have to change."
He hesitated while she opened her makeup bag. "Do you want to kiss him?"
"Why do you care?"
He visibly bristled. "I don't want you to get hurt."
"Does he have a reputation for hurting women?" She picked up her hairbrush, and had brushed out her hair completely before he finally answered.
"No." It sounded like it hurt him to say it. "He's nice."
"Then you don't have to worry."
"Where are you going?"
"Oh, no." She laughed humorlessly. "You don't get to ask that. Now please, I have to change."
He stared at her, looking annoyed and irritated, his jaw still twitching. Then, with a huff, he turned to open the door. And froze when he saw the dress hanging from the hook. "Is… That's what you're wearing?"
"Oh my god, Max, you're starting to sound like a jealous boyfriend."
"I'm not jealous," he snorted.
"And you're not my boyfriend," she snapped.
She waited for him to turn around and restart their argument. Altercation. Whatever it was. Instead, he muttered something under his breath and snatched the door open. Went out, closing it. And sounded perfectly normal when he apologized to Kevin and resumed the movie.
Y/n was still annoyed even after changing and doing her makeup. She fussed over her hair, unsure whether she wanted to wear it up or down, finally leaving it down. She was fully aware that she was putting more work into her appearance than she would have if Max hadn't said what he had, and still knew she was being silly and stupid. Hadn't she just told herself nothing could happen between them?
Yes, but maybe if he hadn't acted as though he were doing an immense favor she wouldn't be so upset. I wouldn't want you to lose your job. Indicating that if he kissed her and they were found out, his job was secure.
"Sanctimonious prick," she muttered while she spritzed perfume on her wrists and rubbed them together. As she exited the bathroom the outer door of the room opened and Ellie came in, her jaw dropping when she saw her.
"Holy shit babes, you look amazing!"
She smiled, doing a turn for her friend. "You think so?"
"His jaw is gonna be on the floor the whole time. Holy shit, milf alert." Ellie whistled softly, waving her hand as though overcome with heat.
Y/n giggled. "Thanks."
The movie was ending and Kevin oohed and aahed over her dress, telling her over and over how pretty she was. Max stared at her, his jaw set, but said nothing, looking away and starting to clear up the remains of the snacks.
"Isn't she pretty, grote maat?" Kevin asked.
And even though her back was to him, she felt his gaze. Glancing over her shoulder at him while she fastened her necklace, she watched his shoulders rise and fall with a sigh. "Very pretty, kleine maat."
"You're supposed to tell her," Kevin whispered. "Always tell a lady she's beautiful. Right, aunt Ellie?"
"That's right, buddy," Ellie said proudly. She gave y/n an odd look, silently asking what had happened, narrowing her eyes when y/n merely shrugged.
"Because women are pretty all the time," Kevin went on and y/n smiled. At least she was doing something right…
After fastening her earrings she turned from the dresser, breath catching in her throat when she found Max staring at her. Vaguely aware of Ellie telling Kevin to wash his hands so they could eat the dinner she'd brought, she squatted, getting her heels from her suitcase, along with her shawl.
"Je bent mooi," Max said.
She met his gaze as she rose to her feet. "What's that mean?"
"You're beautiful," he whispered.
"Thank you." And though she knew it was catty, she couldn't help the words that slipped out of her mouth. "Do you think Logan will like it?"
His jaw twitched. "He'd be stupid not to."
"That doesn't answer my question," she practically cooed, slipping on her heels.
He made a sound of disgust in his throat. "He's annoying and dumb sometimes, but he's not stupid. So, yes, I think he'll like it."
"Look at you, hyping me up." She wasn't stupid either, she could hear and feel the jealousy. Good, she thought, getting her small handbag and transferring her few necessities to it.
"Is he picking you up?" Max asked. "Or are you meeting him somewhere?"
"Are you gonna stick around and question his intentions?" she scoffed. "Because if so, I'm meeting him."
"I just—"
"Do you want some pasta, Mister Max?" Kevin asked as he came out of the bathroom with Ellie.
"Ah, maybe next time," Max said after clearing his throat. "You eat some for me, hm?"
She wanted to be mad that he was so good with her son. Proclaim they could only ever be coworkers, then turn around and continue to be her son's favorite person. It wasn't fair. But she didn't want him to be mean to Kevin. So she smiled, fixing her shawl while Max told Kevin he would see him at quali tomorrow, wishing she could stay mad at him but that was impossible, especially when he lifted her son up and gave him a tight hug, telling him he'd enjoyed the movie.
"Can we watch another one day?" Kevin asked hopefully and y/n drew in a breath, prepared to say they couldn't ask Max that, he was too busy.
"Of course we can. You pick the movie and we'll watch it next week?"
He gave Kevin another hug then gently encouraged him to eat his dinner, smiling and saying goodnight to Ellie. Then he turned to her, and she felt an unexpected heat ripple through her as his eyes slowly looked her up and down.
"Thanks for coming," she murmured, walking him to the door.
"I enjoyed it." He rubbed the back of his neck. "For the most part."
"Kevin had a great time."
"Yes. And that's all that matters."
Ouch. "Goodnight, Max."
"Enjoy your dinner with Logan."
"I will."
He rocked back on his heels, exhaling harshly. "I'm…" He cleared his throat. "Goodnight, y/n."
She closed the door and bit back a whine. Stupid, stupid, stupid—
"Talk tonight when you get back?" Ellie asked gently, watching her while she fixed Kevin's plate.
"It's nothing," she insisted, double checking that she had everything in her handbag. Phone, ID and passport, room key, lipstick, mirror. "Just being stupid."
"You're not stupid, mama," Kevin said anxiously.
"I know, thank you. Sorry. Just feeling stupid."
"But you look so pretty," he told her.
She smiled, sighing as she crossed the room to kiss his cheek. "You're the best son in the world, you know that?"
He giggled, rubbing the lipstick from his cheek. "And you're the best mama."
"Only because you're the best son," she insisted.
"Do you like Mister Logan?" he asked suddenly, scrunching his face when she fastened the bib around his neck.
"He's nice. But he's just a friend."
"But." Kevin's lips poked out in thought. "He's taking you on a date."
"Dinner. You know how you miss Cotton?" She took a napkin and cleaned the smudge of lipstick from his cheek when he nodded. "He misses America sometimes. It's kind of like when you pet the cats on your walks."
"Ohh…" Kevin nodded with all the understanding a three year old could muster. "So he's gonna pet you?"
She blinked, instinctively reaching to swat Ellie's arm when her friend choked back a giggle. "Not exactly," she groaned. "We're just gonna talk."
Ellie was still giggling ten minutes later when Logan knocked on the door. "Sorry, sorry," she gasped when y/n shot her a glare. "I'll behave."
"That'll be the day," y/n muttered under her breath as she went to open the door. "Hey," she greeted warmly, smiling up at him.
He was dressed in slacks, a button down, and a jacket. His smile faded a little as he stared at her, and she saw his throat move as he swallowed. "Whoa. You look great."
"Thanks. You do too."
She let him in so Kevin could say hi, ducking into the bathroom to fix her lipstick and remind herself that it was just dinner. Logan was just a friend, or at least would hopefully be a friend. Saying goodnight to her son, she felt her shawl slipping, ignoring Ellie's knowing look when Logan immediately reached to catch it, his hands gentle as he draped it over her shoulders. Just dinner. Just dinner with just a friend.
But when they walked down the street to the restaurant, which was just around the corner, and his hand brushed hers she told herself it was alright. And when he slipped his hand protectively over hers she didn't pull away. In the restaurant when Lando and a few others called out to him she hung back, blushing when Logan gently tugged her along to greet his friends.
"Didn't know you had a date tonight, mate," Oscar commented, nodding to her in greeting.
She could have corrected him. Could have announced to everyone that it wasn't a date. But Logan's bashful chuckle warmed her and she smiled. "We American's have to stick together," she said, enjoying Logan's laugh.
"You know, England is an ally," Lando said with a smirk.
"Still haven't forgiven you for taxation without representation," she sighed.
"That wasn't me," Lando defended while the others laughed.
"Your ancestors though," Oscar told him.
"They were doing what they thought was right? How am I at fault now?"
"You opened your mouth," Carlos said with a laugh.
"C'mon, babe, our table's ready," Logan murmured, hand slipping to the small of her back.
"Enjoy your date!" Oscar called after them.
"I hope you trip over your independence!" Lando yelped when Oscar elbowed him.
Laughing, y/n let Logan guide her to the other side of the dining room, where they were thankfully shielded from the table of drivers. He held the chair for her and she thanked him while the waiter handed them the menus.
"I'm sorry about that. Oscar and Lando… I should have told them it wasn't a date," Logan said once they were alone.
"It's fine," she assured him. "I mean, technically, it is a date."
"I guess so. I just don't want you thinking I'm making it out to more than it is."
"What is it?" she asked.
"Two friends, hopefully. Spending time together." He looked up from his menu. "Probably should have taken you somewhere more casual, huh? This place makes it look like I'm trying to impress you."
She hadn't thought of it like that. "…Are you trying to impress me?"
"Do you want me to?"
Their eyes met and she slowly inhaled, thinking over what the best answer would be.
So you'll kiss him because I won't kiss you?
Do you want to kiss him?
She exhaled, sending thoughts of Max as far away as possible. "I think I do."
He looked relieved and oh, so handsome in this light. "Then I might be trying to impress you a little."
"You're doing amazing so far."
taglist
@spookystitchery | @halleest | @lyannesworld | @llando4norris | @kravitzwhore | @younxii | @silentreader128 | @samantha-chicago | @mrsbrxkkxr | @cmleitora |
Charles Leclerc:
Charles x Vasseur!Daughter smut. - Part 2
Charles x Schumacher!Daughter OC. - Part 2- Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5… in the works.
Carlos Sainz Jr:
Carlos x CelebReporter part 1. - part 2- part 3- part 4 - part 5… in the works. Carlos x CelebEx! Reader. Carlos x AlonsoGirlfriend! Reader.
Daniel Ricciardo:
Daniel x HornerDaughter! Reader - smut- part 2- part 3- part 4- part 5- part 6- part 7- part 8- part 9- part 10- part 11- part 12- part 13 - part 14
Daniel Ricciardo x Reader SpiceDaniel Ricciardo x DrunkReader! Fluff - he does your skin care.
Daniel Ricciardo x Reader ~ Thigh Riding 18+. Fernando Alonso:
Fernando x YoungerReader! Smut - Fernando is a colleague of your dad. 18+. Fernando x YoungerCelebReader! Smut - You come into the paddock interviewing drivers and meet Alonso for the first time. It’s fair to say you make a good impression. 18+. Fernando x CelebEx! Smut - Fernando and Lila have been split for a year after her move to Australia. But during the GP there, when they bump into one another, old times are relived. Fernando x Reader headcanons - some sfw and some nsfw headcanons based on if Nando was your boyfriend. Fernando x Reader Smut - Fernando is wound up, just a Drabble on how he takes it out on you…
Jenson Button: 2009 Jenson X CelebReader! Headcanons. 2009 Jenson X CelebReader! Headcanons p2. Jenson x reader smut - Jenson and his girlfriend join the mile-high club and attempt to sneak off in a jet full of people.
Lance Stroll:
Lance Stroll X HornerBFFReader! Smut.
Lando Norris: Lando x SainzSisterReader!
Lewis Hamilton:
Lewis X Reader - Smut - sex on an F1 car.
Max Verstappen:
Max x HornerDaughter! Reader Headcannons. Max x CelebEx! Reader - Angst. - part 2 - part 3… in the works. Max x HornerDaughter!
in which Max admits to his close friend, and team principles daughter, that he’s in a not so enjoyable relationship… part 1. part 2. part 3. part 4. part 5. part 6. part 7. part 8. part 9. part 10. part 11. part 12. part 13. part 14. part 15. part 16. part 17. part 18. part 19 in the works…
Sebastian Vettel:
Sebastian x RedBull Design Engineer OC. - part 2. - part 3. - part 4. - part 5. - part 6. - part 7. - part 8. - part 9. - part 10.
UNDER CONSTRUCTION AS OF: FEBRUARY 13, 2024
WORKS WITHOUT A LINK ON THE TITLE ARE YET TO BE UPLOADED !
REQUESTS ARE OPEN !
SMUT! [s] FLUFF! [f] ANGST! [a]
✧ PASSENGER PRINCESS [s]
in which charles tries to teach his girlfriend how to drive on her twenty second birthday.
✧ LUNA, SOL Y MAR [f]
in which carlos reminisces about your long relationship before he decides to propose to you. (inspired by the song, san lucas by kevin kaarl)
✧ BEGGING [s,smau]
in which carlos suffers the consequences of liking an influencer who is younger than him. (part two here)
✧ FRIENDS WITH YOUR EX [s,a]
in which lando is nervous to see how carlos will react when he sees him with you. (inspired by landon barker's song, friends with your ex)
✧ 4EVER [s,a,f]
in which lando finally comes to his senses after seeing pictures of ferrari's golden boy and you.
✧ JUST MARRIEDll [f]
in which lando accidentally gets married to his best friend in vegas! (this is the alternate ending to just married with oscar piastri; can be used as a stand alone)
✧ JUST MARRIED [a,f]
in which oscar accidentally get married to his ex girlfriend in vegas! (alternate ending with lando norris, just married ll)
✧ WANT YOU AROUND [s,a]
in which lewis finds himself falling in love with his fuck buddy. (inspired by snoh aelegra's song, i want you around.)
✧ BEAUTFUL [f,a, smau]
in which logan makes sure to never treat you the way you got treated before. (ft. oscar piastri)
more coming soon...
✧ ENAMORADO [f]
in which ollie finds himself deeply in love with his girlfriend and always doing little things for her.
more coming soon...
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Ok so… 🌧️☁️🔥 - Lewis Hamilton.
Could u base it off the trend, dark curls and water colour eyes.
Thanks Queen
an: this is totally not based off of nico rosberg, no why would it be? also this was written in an hour and is NOT proof read.
summary: lewis' and his teammate have been treading a thin line between love and hate, so when one of them gets into an accident. surely it changes everything.
wc: 4.3k
warnings: car crash
The air in the garage was thick with the familiar scent of oil and rubber, the rhythmic thrum of engines in the distance like a heartbeat. You were stood at the far end, methodically reviewing your race notes, eyes tracing over each figure with sharp precision. Focused. Composed. Untouchable.
But you could feel him there—he was always there, lingering just on the edge of your awareness, never saying anything but always watching. The weight of it made your jaw clench, your muscles tighten in a way that annoyed you more than you’d cared to admit.
Lewis was leaning against the wall across from you, arms folded, his posture lazy and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world. You could hear him breathing. You didn’t have to look up to know he was wearing that same infuriatingly relaxed expression, the one that somehow made you feel like he was waiting for you to slip up.
Minutes passed, neither of you speaking, the silence between you thick with something unspoken, but heavy. The team buzzed around you two, but your world was much quieter—tense, a slow-burning friction that had been there since the day you had both signed on.
Finally, you chose to break the silence, not out of need to acknowledge him, but to break the weight pressing down on your chest. "Do you ever plan on doing something useful?"
Lewis didn’t answer right away. Instead, you heard the soft shift of his weight as he stood straighter, footsteps crossing the short distance between you, slow and measured. You didn’t look up. Not yet.
"Are you always this charming before a race?" His voice was calm, casual, the subtle bite behind his words only evident to someone who knew how to listen for it.
You exhaled slowly, setting your notes down on the table in front of you. Only then did you meet his gaze, your cerulean eyes locking onto his, steady and unwavering. His eyes were dark, tension brewing within them, and the way they met yours now—unapologetically, searching for something—only made your guard go up further.
"I’m focused. Maybe you should try it sometime," you replied, your tone even, though every word was a small act of defiance.
A slow smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, but it wasn’t a friendly one. It was the kind of smile that said he was amused by you, that he liked getting under your skin.
"I am focused," he said quietly, his voice dropping an octave. "Just not on what you think."
︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶
Lewis didn’t like that they were racing today, there was far too much rain. Every practice session since they had gotten to Zandvoort felt wrong, every time he got into the cockpit of the car, he wanted to get back out.
The race was chaos—engines roaring, tires screaming as they hurtled through corner after corner at breakneck speed through the rain. Every move had to be precise, every decision calculated, and he was good at it. No distractions, no second-guessing.Even though he didn’t want to race today, Lewis lived for this.
But today, besides the race, something else was off. He hadn’t been able to get you out of his head. Even as he fought for position, his mind wandered—always back to you. To the way your eyes flashed when she spoke to him, the way you never backed down, never let him in. You were supposed to be teammates. Rivals. So why the hell couldn’t he stop thinking about you?
He shook it off, pushing harder, focusing on the track ahead. But then he saw it.
Your car, just ahead in the pack, spun out. It happened so fast—a sudden twitch, then a violent swerve. His breath caught in his throat as your car skidded sideways, slamming into the barrier with a sickening crunch of metal.
Time slowed. Everything else—the race, the other drivers, the screaming radio in his ear—faded away. All he could see was your car, mangled and still, smoke rising from the wreckage.
"Bono, is she okay?" he breathed, panic clawing at his chest.
He was supposed to keep driving, follow protocol, and wait for the safety car. But he couldn’t. Lewis’ hands moved on their own, wrenching the wheel to the side, veering off the racing line. The pit radio crackled, Bono’s voice screaming at him to stay focused, to stay in the race, but he didn’t care. He slammed the brakes, pulled the car to a halt on the side of the track, ripping off his steering wheel in one swift motion.
Before anyone could stop him, he was out. Feet pounding against the asphalt, he sprinted toward your car, every second stretching painfully, his heart pounding in his ears. His mind was racing, filled with worst-case scenarios he couldn’t shut out. You had to be okay. You had to be.
As he reached the wreckage, marshals were already swarming the scene, but he shoved past them, his pulse roaring in his veins. The front of your car was a crumpled mess, the cockpit barely visible under the bent metal and debris. He could see your helmet, your still form inside, and the sight made something twist violently in his chest.
"What the fuck happened?!" His voice was raw, frantic, his hands reaching for the cockpit, trying to pry it open. "Someone help me for fucks sake!"
One of the marshals grabbed him, pulling him back, but he fought against it, his whole body trembling with the need to see you, to know you were okay.
"She’s unconscious—" one of the medics started, but he couldn’t hear the rest. His world had narrowed down to you and the sound of his own ragged breathing. He’d never felt fear like this before, not on the track, not anywhere. It gnawed at him, made his hands shake as he stood there, helpless.
His mind screamed at him. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not to you.
When the medical team finally got you out, he saw your chest rise and fall—shallow, but steady. Relief hit him like a wave, but it wasn’t enough. He needed to hear your voice, needed to see you open those damn eyes and tell him off like you always did. He needed you to be okay.
"She’s breathing," one of the medics reassured him as they loaded you onto a stretcher, and he nodded, but it felt like a hollow victory. Lewis wasn’t supposed to care this much. He wasn’t supposed to feel like this.
But as they carried you away, all he could think was that he’d break every rule, throw away the whole damn race, just to hear your voice again.
︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶
The quiet hum of the air conditioning did little to settle the nerves that still buzzed under your skin. You sat on the edge of the small cot in your driver’s room, staring blankly at the wall. Your body ached—nothing broken, they’d told you, but the crash had rattled you more than you had wanted to admit. Your helmet sat discarded on the floor, and the sound of the accident still echoed in your head, the screech of tires, the crunch of metal.
There was a knock at the door, sharp and insistent. You knew who it was before you even heard his voice.
"You in there?"
You closed your eyes for a brief second, already bracing yourself for the confrontation you weren't ready to have. He hadn’t left you alone since the crash—hovering around the medical tent, pacing outside your room. You’d heard him through the walls, arguing with the team, demanding updates. He was relentless. But you didn’t want his concern. You didn’t need it.
The door creaked open, and Lewis stepped inside without waiting for an invitation. Typical. He always pushed his way into your space, never asking, never giving you a chance to breathe.
"You shouldn’t be here," you said, your voice low, your eyes still fixed on the floor. You didn’t have the strength to look at him, not yet. Not when your emotions were too close to the surface.
"I was worried," he said, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it, and that only made you angrier. "I needed to see for myself that you were okay."
You laughed, a bitter sound, shaking your head. Finally, you forced yourself to look up at him. His usually confident posture was gone; he looked tense, his shoulders tight, his dark eyes clouded with something you didn’t want to name. Guilt? Regret? You didn’t care.
"You were worried," you repeated, your tone mocking, though the anger bubbling inside you was anything but playful. "Since when do you care about me, Hamilton? You’ve made my life hell from the second I signed with this team."
Lewis flinched at her words, but didn’t move, didn’t back down. "I—" He stopped, searching for something to say, something that wouldn’t make it worse. But you didn’t want to hear it.
"You don’t get to be scared for me." You stood up, your body protesting with every movement, but you ignored the pain. Your emotions were a live wire, snapping and sparking in the small room. "Not after everything you’ve done. The comments, the looks, the way you treat me like I’m just some obstacle in your way."
His jaw tightened, his eyes darkening, but you weren't finished. "You’ve been trying to tear me down since the day I got here. You’ve questioned my skills, doubted my place on this team, made me feel like I don’t belong every single chance you get." You took a step closer, your voice rising, cracking with the intensity of everything you’d kept bottled up. "So don’t stand there now and pretend you care. Don’t act like I’m something worth worrying about."
He didn’t move. He just stared at you, his face a mask of tension, like he was holding something back—something he wasn’t sure how to say. His eyes flickered, just for a second, and you saw it: the same fear you’d felt when your car slammed into that barrier. It confused you. It infuriated you.
"You think I wanted this?" His voice, rougher now, cut through the thick silence. "You think I planned to be this way with you? I don’t—" He ran a hand over his face, exhaling sharply. "I don’t know how to do this. How to deal with you. Because you—"
"Because what?" you snapped, cutting him off. "Because I’m a threat? Because you can’t handle the fact that I’m as good as you? Better, even?"
"Because you scare the hell out of me!" he shouted, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. The room fell silent, his confession hanging in the air between you, raw and jagged.
Your heart pounded in your chest, the admission hitting you harder than you wanted to admit. But you didn’t let it show, couldn’t let him see how his words affected you.
"You scare me," he repeated, his voice quieter now, like he was admitting something to himself as much as to you. "The way you drive, the way you push yourself—you’re fearless, and it’s terrifying. And today—" His voice cracked, and he looked away for a second, composing himself. "Today, when I saw you crash, I thought—I thought I’d lost you."
Your breath caught in your throat, but you swallowed the emotion rising there, forcing yourself to stay strong. To stay angry.
"You don’t get to care about me," you said again, quieter this time, but with the same fire. "Not when you’ve spent months trying to break me."
Lewis opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. For a moment, you just stood there, the distance between you feeling both impossible to cross and too close. The tension, the unspoken things that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long, it all hovered between you, crackling like electricity.
Finally, he took a step back, his gaze falling to the floor. "I’m sorry," he said, his voice rough, but sincere.
You didn’t know what to say. Part of you wanted to scream at him, to push him further away, to tell him that his apology wasn’t enough. But another part of you —a part you weren’t ready to confront—was scared by how much you’d wanted to hear him say it.
So instead, you stayed silent, watching him leave, your heart still racing, your mind reeling from everything that had just been said—and everything that hadn’t.
The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone in the stillness of the room. Your body felt heavier now, the adrenaline from the confrontation seeping away, leaving only the dull ache of exhaustion and the weight of his words lingering in your mind.
You scare me.
You ran a hand through your hair, still trying to make sense of it all. He was the one who had made your life hell, the one who pushed every button, who treated you like you didn’t belong. And now, he was saying he was scared? That he cared?
You paced the room, the silence gnawing at you, your mind spinning in circles. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. You were rivals—always had been. He was the enemy on your own team, the one who made you want to scream every time he walked into the room. But today, when he stood there, looking at you like he was terrified of losing you, it had felt… different.
There was a part of you that had wanted to stay angry, to keep that fire burning between you. It was easier that way. Safer. But another part—the one you hadn’t let yourself acknowledge until now—was starting to unravel, slowly, painfully, as if everything you thought you knew about him was coming undone.
You sighed, sinking back onto the cot. Your body ached, but it wasn’t just the crash. It was everything else—the confusion, the pull you felt toward him, the tension that never seemed to leave you two, the way he looked at you like you were both his greatest threat and something he couldn’t tear his eyes away from.
You don’t get to care about me.
You had meant it when you said it. But now, alone with your thoughts, you wondered if you had been pushing him away because you didn’t want to admit the truth to yourself. That maybe, just maybe, you didn’t want him to stay away. Not anymore.
Before you could second-guess it, you stood up, heart pounding in your chest. You weren't sure what you were going to say, weren’t even sure why you were doing this, but your feet carried you out of your room and down the hall. His room was just a few doors down, the quiet hum of the team in the background doing nothing to settle the storm raging inside you.
Your knuckles hovered above the door, hesitating for just a moment before you knocked, your heart in her throat.
It opened almost immediately. He stood there, still in his race suit, his room a mess and his eyes shadowed with the same exhaustion you felt. He looked surprised to see you, but there was something else there too—something raw, vulnerable, that made your chest tighten.
Neither of you spoke at first. The silence stretched, thick with the weight of everything that had been left unsaid. Finally, you broke the tension, your voice quieter than you intended.
"I shouldn’t have said what I did."
Lewis didn’t respond right away, just watched you with those sharp eyes that always made you feel like he was seeing straight through your defences.
"I didn’t mean it," you continued, forcing yourself to hold his gaze. "I mean… you didn’t deserve that. You cared, and I shouldn’t have thrown it back in your face."
He looked down, exhaling softly. "I’ve given you plenty of reasons to hate me," he said quietly. "I get why you reacted the way you did."
For a moment, neither of you moved. You were about to say something else, but then he looked up again, and the intensity in his eyes made your heart skip a beat.
"It’s foreign to me," he said, his voice low, his words deliberate. "Liking someone like you. Someone I’m not supposed to like."
Your breath caught in your throat, the air between you suddenly feeling too thick, too charged. The heat from the room, from him, seemed to close in around you, making it hard to think straight.
"You drive me insane," he continued, stepping closer, his voice rougher now. "You challenge me in ways no one else does. And I hate it. But I also…" He stopped, his eyes locking onto yours, his next words barely more than a whisper. "I can’t stop thinking about you."
You swallowed, your heart hammering against your ribs. The tension that had always been between you shifted, growing heavier, hotter, more intense. You could feel the pull, the unspoken thing that had been simmering beneath the surface for months.
Your throat was dry, your body betraying you. "You’re not supposed to care about me," you whispered, but there was no anger left in your voice. Only confusion, and something you weren't ready to admit yet.
He took another step closer, close enough now that you could feel the warmth radiating off him, close enough to hear the slight hitch in his breath.
"I know," he said, his voice husky, eyes flicking between yours and your lips. "But I do."
Your pulse thundered in your ears as his words lingered in the air between you, charged and crackling like static. Every second felt stretched, like time was holding its breath, waiting for what would happen next. The tension between you had always been palpable, always simmering just beneath the surface, but now, it was unbearable—thick, electric, like the split second before a lightning strike.
You knew you should say something, break the moment before it went too far. You should push him away, remind him of all the reasons this couldn’t happen, why they couldn’t cross this line. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. Instead, you found yourself frozen in place, the walls you’d built up around him crumbling. His eyes were locked on yours, dark and intense, and you felt something inside you shift, like a wire snapping loose.
Your breath hitched as you leaned in, just the smallest movement, enough to close some of the distance between you. Your heart was hammering in your chest, and you could feel the heat radiating from his body, the space between you shrinking until it felt like the air itself was suffocating, pressing you together.
And then, he moved.
His hand came up slowly, hesitantly, his fingers brushing lightly against your cheek, his touch feather-soft, like he was testing the moment, unsure if you’d pull away. Your skin tingled where his hand touched, sending a shiver down your spine, and for a brief second, neither of you moved. His thumb gently grazed your jawline, and the touch was so tender, so unexpected from him, that it made your chest tighten.
When you didn’t flinch, didn’t retreat, something shifted in him. The tension snapped like a taut string, unravelling all at once. He closed the gap between you in a heartbeat, and before you could think, before you could process what was happening, his lips were on yours.
The kiss wasn’t soft. It was urgent, messy, like he’d been holding back for far too long and couldn’t control it anymore. His lips pressed against yours with a hunger that matched the heat between you, a raw, desperate energy that made your knees weaken. It wasn’t gentle; it wasn’t careful. It was a release—months of pent-up frustration, confusion, anger, and something else that neither of you had been willing to acknowledge until now.
Your body responded instinctively, your hands moving to his chest, gripping the fabric of his suit as if it were the only thing keeping you grounded. His body was warm, solid beneath your touch, and you could feel his heart racing just as wildly as yours. You pulled him closer, needing more of him, needing this as much as he did.
The kiss deepened, and his hand slid from your cheek to tangle in your hair, pulling you even closer. Your mouths moved together in a rhythm that was both frantic and intoxicating, as if you were both trying to make up for all the time you’d spent fighting this. Every brush of his lips, every shift of his hands made your pulse spike, your senses overwhelmed by the intensity of it all. You could taste the desperation in his kiss, feel the tension still lingering in the way his body pressed against yours.
You weren't sure how long you stayed like that, tangled in each other, caught in the whirlwind of your own undoing. But when you finally pulled apart, gasping for air, your foreheads pressed together, and for a moment, neither of you moved. Your breaths came heavy and uneven, the world spinning around you as you tried to catch up to what had just happened.
Your mind was a haze of emotions—confusion, relief, frustration—and yet there was something undeniable settling deep inside you, something you couldn’t push away anymore.
You felt the warmth of his breath against your skin, and your heart was still racing, but now, instead of fear or anger, there was something softer, something that scared you just as much.
"I’m still angry with you," you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath. But there was no heat behind your words now, just the faintest trace of a smile tugging at the corner of your lips, like you couldn’t quite hold it back.
He let out a soft, breathless laugh, the sound vibrating between you as he brushed a thumb along your jawline, his touch lingering, as if he didn’t want to let go. His eyes softened as they met yours, the usual sharpness replaced by something you weren't used to seeing in him—vulnerability.
"I wouldn’t expect anything less," he murmured, his voice low, rough with the aftermath of what had just passed between you. His thumb traced slow, lazy circles against your skin, sending a fresh wave of warmth through you.
His forehead still rested against yours, and the air between you was thick with the unspoken things that hung in the balance. You could feel his breath mingling with yours, could still taste the remnants of his kiss on your lips. The tension hadn’t disappeared—it had merely shifted, becoming something new, something more dangerous. The line between you was gone now, blurred beyond recognition, and you didn’t know how to navigate it.
His other hand came to rest on your hip, the touch firm, possessive, pulling you just a fraction closer. Your body responded before your mind could catch up, and you didn’t stop it this time. You didn’t want to.
His lips hovered just above yours, teasing, tempting, and for a moment, it felt like the entire world had fallen away, leaving only the two of you. You could feel his breath, hot and heavy, his eyes searching yours for permission—for something more. And in that moment, you realised that you wanted it, too. Wanted him.
the end.
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🙃
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.”
[all writings below the cut] talk to me here prompt list here -----
(+ means smut)
red flags | charles leclerc +
last call | max verstappen
chasing fate | lance stroll blindsided | lance stroll
death of me | carlos sainz +
blurbs & drabbles
the better series (7 parts) | pierre gasly, lando norris (triangle) +
6 to 1 series (12 parts) | lando norris x leclerc!reader + lover x 6 to 1 (sequel based off the lover tracklist)
disapproval | mick schumacher x leclerc!reader part 2 hard truths part 3 the good guy
fragile line | daniel ricciardo x driver!reader + part 2 haunted part 3 gone part 4 long live
say don't go | charles leclerc x reader part 2 | now that we don't talk
sky's on fire (work in progress) | pierre gasly, charles leclerc (triangle)
pierre gasly
worlds collide | famous!reader x pierre simp | reader x pierre
charles leclerc
soft (dog) launch | korean influencer!reader x charles quarantine | reader x charles not good enough | filipina!reader x charles muse | singer/songwriter!reader x charles the people's princess | princess!reader x charles
mick schumacher
in you i trust | reader x mick
- all social media au's charles leclerc x secret admin daniel ricciardo x secret admin lando norris x secret admin lewis hamilton x secret admin lance stroll x secret admin max verstappen x secret admin
A 22 year old girl, fan of stackiemight write some fanfictions (marvel, chicago pd, chicago fire, chicago med), short angsty essays about life, update on my journey towards a better mental and physical heatlh. drop questions! fandom related or just you want to talk to somebody.
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