Alex Albon And Carlos Sainz (Mexican GP - October 27, 2024) 📷 DPPI

Alex Albon and Carlos Sainz (Mexican GP - October 27, 2024) 📷 DPPI

Resa’s Writing Masterlist

1K Celebration Drabble Masterlist!

Five-ish Sentence Fics

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ONE CHICAGO

⌁ Jay Halstead x Reader

⌁ Kelly Severide x Reader

⌁ Will Halstead x Reader

⌁ Connor Rhodes x Reader

⌁ Adam Ruzek x Reader

⌁ Matt Casey x Reader

⌁ Halstead!Sister

⌁ Severide!Sister

⌁ Stellaride

⌁ Burzek

⌁ Brettsey

SUPERNATURAL

⌁ Dean Winchester x Reader

⌁ Sam Winchester x Reader

⌁ Winchester!Daughter

⌁ Winchester!Sister

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abudhabby29-blog

7 months ago

daniel ricciardo // dr3 fic recs

———————————— 🏎️🏎️ ————————————

one shots

blackbird - @scuderiahoney

“you’re a bartender at a mountain lodge. when danny shows up, you’re determined to keep your distance. It doesn’t really go to plan”

sweet like grenadine - @scuderiahoney

“you love weddings. however, you don’t love being stuck by yourself at a wedding, a plus one to a boyfriend who’s too busy for you. enter daniel ricciardo, your knight in shining armor”

call out my name - @theemporium

“in which you and daniel have always hated each other. but maybe that’s just an excuse to avoid how you really feel about each other”

never say goodbye - @goldenroutledge

“you remind daniel of who he is when he needs it most”

night changes - @formulawolff

based on the song night changes by one direction

got drunk on you - @userlando

“max comes for a visit before the race in monza and he fails to mention that he'd invited daniel along”

memories - @thef1diary

“daniel's return to redbull is not just a return to the team, it's a return to you but it just might be too late for that”

the end - @whotfwritesthat

“in which daniel ricciardo cries in the arms of his secret girlfriend after finishing his last f1 race”

of waning moons and eagle eyes - @scuderiahalf

“goodbyes are hard; for now, we can just stay here a while”

smau

lost cowboy hat - @f1version - smau

“you find a cowboy hat while you’re at a photoshoot, then the f1 fandom goes crazy on you because it’s supposedly daniel ricciardo’s lost hat”

one of the girls - @maplesyrupsainz - smau

“in which your new boyfriend is adopted into your friendship group as if he was one of the girls”

you lose some, you win some - @wcters - smau

“you and daniel’s life after he leaves formula one”

days like these - @maplesyrupsainz - smau

"in which you're so active on social media and your fans eat it up"

personal photographer - @fastandcarlos - smau

"when daniel’s feed suddenly becomes much more aesthetic, the fans are intrigued to find out who’s behind the sudden change"

the joker and the queen series - @agentstarkid - smau

“serendipity is an unexpected and very lucky finding, that is, a coincidence that fills us with happiness. serendipity in love implies the feeling that the universe conspires in our favor, bringing that special person into our lives at the right time and oh boy, did the universe send her everything she ever needed in the form of a 5'10" man with a built-in accent, a love for tim tams, adrenaline-fueled spirit and a smile that could light up a whole town”

*these are part of my fic rec masterlist, please note none of these are written by me and the author of each story had been tagged! check out my f1 fic rec masterlist for other drivers!*

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abudhabby29-blog

7 months ago

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.

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abudhabby29-blog

1 year ago

── LET ME BE THE LIGHTER #MAXVERSTAPPEN

If you gonna set fire to the night Baby, let me be the lighter.

— THE DRIVER. MANESKIN

OR : the one where you and max are mortal enemies yet the public loves you two so much you are forced to become a thing for the sake of viewership.

# GENERAL DATA :

⇢ max verstappen x fem! driver reader. fake dating au! enemies to lovers. slow burn with lots of angst, drama and some fluff (as well as a poor attempt at humor).

↻ : taglist open just send me an ask to be added !

TABLE OF CONTENT :

# ACT ONE —

[#001] : no peace for the winners.

[#002]: schatje.

[#003]: not a happy couple.

[#004]: this isn’t an apology.

[#005]: dyspnea.

#specialbonuschapter. ↻ dynamic one results.

# ACT TWO —

[#006]: the person behind the door.

[#007] : Blue blanket.

#taglist: @alilcloudy @chiliwhore @halleest @welovediaaxx @its-avalon-08 @hiireadstuff @prudyhoo @almostjollypizza @butterfly-lover @sunsshinesunny @tsukishitm-a @be-your-coffee-pot @bruhhhhhhhhehhhhhhh @ironmaiden1313 @indesicivelyconfuzzled @sargeantdumbass @asmoothoperator @brettlorenzi3 @lewisvinga @dr4g0ngirl @fruity-dirtbag @ladyladybuggg @woozarts @casperlikej @marshmummy @leclercdream @namgification @mellowarcadefun @c-losur3 @boiohboii @xoscar03 @theseerbetweenus @reidsworld @laura-naruto-fan1998 @sltwins @reyanfia @mvk1ma @softieekayy @gladysmcdonalds @67-angelofthelordme-67 @dear-fifi @forza-dolce @chonkybonky @33-81 @lozzamez3 @ivyvlair @ssrcsm @spencers-bitch @idkkkkk9 @kuskumu @evie-119 @sltwins @ryanandshanearemydads @formula1mount @arian-directioner @jxnellat @landorris @folklorsweet @openthenyoor01 @booksandflowrs @vizzzashley @a-beaverhausen

1K notes View Post

abudhabby29-blog

1 year ago

archiverstappen’s masterlist ♡

daniel ricciardo

exist for love

lando norris

it’s a match (series)

part one, part two, part three, part four, part five

max verstappen

baby, you can drive my car

break up with your girlfriend, i’m bored

crosswind

hard launch

the cat sitter (series)

part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, part six, part seven, part eight, part nine, part ten, part eleven, part twelve, part thirteen, part fourteen, part fifteen

a good day to start an argument

oscar piastri

bad idea, right?

2K notes View Post

abudhabby29-blog

6 years ago

I’m The Type Of Person Who Likes The Exterior Of Buildings Especially A Church. As You Could See The

I’m the type of person who likes the exterior of buildings especially a church. As you could see the history behind it through the structural output. In the start I was the child who keeps asking questions as she was discovering her faith back then. When I grew up there I faced difficulties in the strenght of my faith. Due to the struggles faced emotionally at a young age somehow I lost my path. Yet I still hope there’s a chance for me to regain my faith and for it to become a starting point of a good life.

Tags

SpiritualSelf

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abudhabby29-blog

2 months ago

Baby Ricciardo

MV33 X Ricciardo!reader

Sorry this took me ages to post! Pictures are not mine and credit is given to those who took/edited them. Also this is in no way meant to represent any of the real life people- they are their own person and have their own relationships. Also, I know there is the controversy over Max and Kelly but I think they are the cutest so I couldn't write her poorly! This is all fake lol.

Summary: Daniel sister's does the ultimate sin and falls in love with her brother's best friend. Years of pining and other disastrous relationships play out.

Max was nervous.

Not something that happened when he was in the cock pit of the car, no, that was natural for him and didn’t phase him one bit.

What made him nervous was definitely when he first laid his eyes on Daniel’s younger sister hanging out in the Red Bull garage.

Laughing with an engineer and fixing her hair that was tied up with a red bow, dressed down in jeans and a Red Bull shirt.

He was only eighteen and she was gorgeous.

For some reason Max never expected Daniel to have any siblings, he definitely gave only child energy from him—but boy was he wrong.

And it couldn't be a brother to make his life easier, he had to have a sister, a painfully beautiful one at that.

When Daniel first introduced him to you, he was all but speechless as you flashed him a perfect smile and told him he was a natural born driver and gave your brother a run for his money.

Both in talent and in his abrasive demeanor.

Max blushes and he left the race having a new crush.

—

Baku 2018 was the next time that you actually had time to travel to a race, finally being able to step away from your studies. Daniel had been begging you to take some time off to come see him during his busy schedule.

There were promises of flying first class and a place in the Red Bull garage, and you couldn't say no to your older brother.

Everything was going fine, until you could feel the shift of energy in the garage, and by the looks of it, Dan and Max were fighting it out on track.

Not in a friendly competition way, a way that looked like they were trying to kill the other.

"What the hell is he doing?" You heard one of the engineers whisper as you watching the chaos playout on the screen in front of you. Max was aggressively defending against Daniel.

Fuck. You knew Dan enough to see how this would play out. Your brother would refuse to let up on Max, and Max was naturally aggressive on the track. Hungry for the win, even to the detriment of his own team.

Watching in horror as Dan crashed into the back of Max's car, sending them both of the track with smoke behind them.

The shit definitely hit the fan with the two of them, and the look on Christian's face as he walked away from the pitwall let you know that the two of them would be getting quite the stern talking to and that was putting it lightly.

"Those shits, they are fucking ageing me I swear, Goddamit." The team principle spat out, rubbing at his head, no doubt having a major migraine setting in.

"I'm going to medical," you told him. Not wanting to cause him anymore stress.

Dan was the first person you saw, wrapping him in a big hug, you sighed out of relief. Letting go of him you did a once over, just to be sure that the medical team hadn’t missed a cut.

“I’m glad you’re okay. It looked intense.”

“If anything, he got the worst of it.” Dan stressed the word he, like Max was the devil and saying his name would curse him.

“I’m sure he did, but this is on both of you.” You stressed, patting him on the shoulder and went to leave him. Ready to make your next stop.

“Where are you going?” He questioned. Eyebrows raised and dark eyes questioning you, looking irritated that you weren't going to stay by his side until he was cleared.

“To see Max, idiot. I care about both of you and you guys are making it so hard for me.”

“You’re my sister.” He said, because family should come before his teammate, but at the end of the day he knew that he was being dramatic--he was the only true adult in the situation.

“And he’s my friend. At least play nice. He could be your future brother in law on day.” You winked and quickly left, listening to him sputter in shock and slight disgust.

God, Daniel could only imagine the pair the two of you would actually make if you officially started dating—or even admitted to having feelings for one another.

They would give him a run for his money, and he would probably start balding from stress.

—

While Max and Daniel’s friendship grew, so did yours. However, it was only a matter of time until your brother decided to make his exit from Red Bull to a new team.

Max, although young, was starting to be the priority of Red Bull and your brother wasn’t made to be a second driver. He was made to win and he couldn’t do that with Max getting priority treatment.

Surprisingly, when Dan left Red Bull the prior teammates friendship only got stronger.

Dan went to Renault and Pierre filled his seat.

Pierre was nice enough and was always friendly towards you, but was always confused when he found you in the Red Bull garage chatting happily to Max and not with your brother a few garages over.

He was never the biggest fan of Max, and couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that a beautiful girl would listen to Max rant endlessly about the rear wing.

Pierre found it even more strange that you would alternated teams each race weekend to make sure you showed supports to both Dan and Max. He was even more confused when he called you Max’s girlfriend and you just laughed and shook your head.

Charles informed him later on that the two of you were in fact ‘just friends’. The eye roll Charles gave confirmed that the two of you were just oblivious idiots.

You would find yourself after races heading back to Max’s hotel to order room service and play fifa.

“And did you-“ Max interrupted what you were going to say next, rolling his eyes and answering the question you hadn’t even finished asking.

“Yes," he huffed, almost offended that you would even ask him. "I got you a burger and fries, no onion or lettuce. And yes I got you extra ketchup.” Max watched proudly as you smiled and practically glowed at him memorizing your order.

“You’re the best.”

You resisted the urge to lean over and kiss him. God, you wanted so badly to. But what would Daniel think? What would the fans think if they ever found out?

“And the best driver.” Max said proudly.

You rolled your eyes at his statement. “Ahh, I resent you for that.”

Max froze, like he had forgotten that Daniel had left the team because of him. One that had been his family before Max all but came in and ruined it.

“Hey—" you put a reassuring hand on his arm. "I’m only joking. I know the sport is cutthroat. He doesn’t blame you.”

It was a shit situation, and shitty things happened all the time to good people. You were just happy that Dan had a seat and was able to continue doing what he loved.

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat, uncomfortable by the conversation.

“Seriously, Max. It’s not your fault and neither of us blame you.” You added on, making sure that he knew that you and Dan still appreciated him.

Did it suck that Dan had to leave the team he always wanted to win a championship with? Yes. But life isn’t always fair and in motor sports it was even worse.

“You know, that…yeah. Thank you.” He said, almost looking nervous, like for some reason you would even think about never speaking to him again because Dan decided on his own accord to leave.

A knock at the door drew your attention away from him.

“For what it’s worth, Red Bull is still my favorite team.” You winked and kissed him on the cheek, hopping up from the bed to grab the room service from the front door.

—

You were twenty-two now, and Max had a girlfriend who was much older than both of you and had a kid. One who was impossibly adorable.

You tried to hate Kelly, but it was impossible. She was beautiful, sweet, and always tried to involve you in any conversation she was having to make you feel more comfortable when the photographers were obviously taking photos of the both of you.

“Are you okay?” Kelly placed a gentle hand on your arm. Noticing that you were all but glued to the spot you were standing, as stiff as a statue watching the bright lights flash at you and people call out questions to both you and Kelly.

“Yeah, I...yeah. Is it always this weird for you?” You tilted your head to the photographers and she just smiled a little sadly at you.

Obviously, you were photographed with Daniel and even the occasional picture of you and Max made it to publication, but you were not use to having grown men constantly follow you down the paddock and ask what you were wearing.

You didn’t necessarily enjoy it, and don’t know how Kelly put up with it, but her father was famous and she was probably raised for this. Plus it helped that she was effortlessly gorgeous and dressed in designer from head to toe.

But you were always a little too awkward and not always photogenic. Plus, it was obvious by your outfit choice that you were not planning on having unwanted attention on you. It would be embarrassing to see you dressed in an oversized Enchanté, jean shorts, and Birkenstock sandals, coffee in hand, next to Kelly who was gracefully wearing a vintage Chanel.

“Yeah, it is but Max usually tells them to fuck off.” Kelly chuckles at the choice of words Max uses to tell the paparazzi off, and you wouldn't expect anything less from him.

You also laugh. “Of course, he hates that shit. I know when they get P in photos he’s even more pissed.”

Kelly watched as your eyes lit up talking about how caring her boyfriend was to watch after P, and how you only ever had kind words to say about Max. Even when his actions were controversial.

She knew that look. It was the same look she had for Max before they officially got together.

—

Max found you behind the garage, a frown on your face and seriously looking at your phone. You only had that look at your face when you were fighting via text.

“Boy troubles?” Max bumped his shoulder against yours. Watching as you furiously texted on your phone. Large paragraphs showing up on your screen from both you and the person on the other side.

You let out a heavy sigh.

“You could say that.”

“Give it here. Let me see.” Max said reaching out for your phone, reluctantly you handed it over.

Watching closely as he scrolled up, eye brows furrowing at the messages.

“This fucker talks to you like shit,” Max said. Handing the phone back to you.

You avoided his gaze, knowing that he was in fact right. Your current boyfriend had been treating you like shit for ages but you figured it was easier to stay than leave.

“Yeah, but I-“

“Does Daniel know?” Max asked, because there is no way your older brother would let this treatment fly.

“No, obviously--Dan would kill him.” You stated the obvious. "I'll handle it myself."

“Good! You don’t deserve this. I hope you know that you deserve better.”

“Max, we’re headed out. You coming?” Kelly waked over to where the two of you were standing behind the Red Bull garage to get a moment of privacy.

She kept her distance from where you two were standing, like she didn't belong and didn't know what to do.

You pushed any thought of Max out of your mind, he was just a friend. Your brother's best friend, and his girlfriend was standing just a few feet away.

“Yeah, one second.”

Max kisses you on the top of your head. In a friendly way-because of course it would never be anything more than that.

“Seriously, don’t let him treat you like that. Or he’ll have to deal with me.” You laughed at the terrible wink he threw your way.

Kelly watched the interaction and patiently waiting for Max to join before they left for the night.

Taking a moment to think it over, you sent an “it’s over” text and blocked the assholes number.

Max was right, he usually was.

—

Holy shit, watching the impact of Max into the barrier had you holding your breath, hands shaking from the anxiety of him not responding to any radio calls and not making any movement to get from the car.

You felt the PR manager grab your arm in a painful grip. The two of you rarely spoke, but everyone in the garage was holding their breath waiting for a response on the other end.

They called out for Max again over the radio.

Silence.

Tears threatened to fell from your eyes. There was no way he co-

The sound of painful groaning came over the system, like all the air in his lungs had been knocked out and he was gasping desperately trying to catch his breath.

Your hands covered your mouth, tears of relief falling from your eyes.

“Fuck. Oh my god.” You voice in relief, not wanting to even mention for a moment that you didn’t think he was getting out of the car alive.

“Danny-“ You said, barely able to whisper his name. He stopped you mid sentence, seeing the terrified look in your eyes.

“Let’s go, I’ll drive us.”

It took over an hour for the two of your to arrive to the hospital. Max telling you that the two of you didn’t need to come, and you just rolled your eyes. Because where else would you be?

“51 Gs and a concussion. Maybe a broken rib?” He gave you guys the same information the doctor gave him.

“Yeah, no shit. Your head hit the tire barrier.” Daniel rolled his eyes, use to Max’s usual cold exterior when he was injured. Not wanting any sympathy from those around him.

Like he saw it as some kind of weakness.

“You need to drive more safe.” You pointed you finger at him accusingly.

“Sure, like it was my fault.” He rolled his eyes with attitude. Wincing when he moved to adjust on the bed, his head felt heavy and the room looked hazy.

"Ugh," he groaned, closing his eyes to try to stop the oncoming nausea. Your heart pangs with worry, which quickly turned to anger.

“Don’t get an attitude with me. Both you and Lewis need to check your egos! I swear to God if you die being fucking stupid, I'll resurrect you to kill you myself."

Daniel wasn’t surprised by your random burst of anger, it happened anytime that Max put himself into a dangerous situation.

There was a knock on the door, Kelly was here.

“Oh,uh-“ you moved away from Max’s bedside.

Kelly stepped over to comfort Max and you backed up. Not wanting to get between their interactions. Because if he was your boyfriend, you would be wanting to make sure he was okay.

But you two were just…friends.

“We were just leaving. Feel better, Maxie.” Daniel said.

Max gave the two of you a weak wave as you exited the room. Noticing how you didn’t even say goodbye to him.

—

“Oh my god, oh my god. Holy shit!” You were jumping up and down watching Max finish the race and becoming world champion. Beating Lewis, but just barely.

You could hear Max yelling throw the radio and Kelly was clapping excitedly.

“He did it.” A singular tear ran down your face and the team went to go meet Max to celebrate.

With respect, Kelly went first and kissed him on the helmet. The team slapping his ass while he passed them making his way over to you. Were you were practically buzzing with excitement.

“You fucker! Oh my god!” You yelled, throwing yourself into his arms. He lifted you off the ground in the tightest hug, arms wrapping firmly around your waist.

“Look at you. World champ, huh?”

“Yeah. Shit, I can’t fucking believe it.” You figured tears were still running down your face when his gloved thumb lifted to wipe them from your face.

He placed you back on your feet and you gave him a light punch to the chest. Max faltered, not knowing what to do next.

The moment was oddly intimate and the world was watching. All cameras focused on Max. This was his time.

If you were his girlfriend, you would be kissing him. Your eyes lingered on his lips a little too long, but you came to when realizing that there were multiple cameras to pick up the interaction.

The last thing you needed was speculation on social media about the two of you. Well…more than there already was.

You cleared your throat to speak up.

“Go see your girl, champ.”

—

Twenty-four and you were standing awkwardly at the bar waiting to order a drink. The club was loud and packed of people here to celebrate Max.

He just turned twenty-five and was celebrating yet another championship.

You watched as Lando took cute photos of Max and Kelly with flowers that he bought for her. It was sweet that he always wanted to celebrate her even when it was a party for him. He was selfless like that. No one ever treated you like that, like you were priceless.

And seeing the way he kissed her pulled at your heart in a weird way, and now you desperate needed more alcohol in your system.

“Hey sis, why the long face?” Daniel strolled over to where you were standing looking at the stressed look on your face and how you uncomfortably shifted from one foot to the other.

When he walked up he saw the look on your face when you say Max and Kelly were already all over each other in the VIP section.

“It’s too loud and I just want a fucking shot!” You huffed, irritated and slightly overwhelmed.

“Woah,woah.” He held up his hands defensively. He hadn’t expected you to lash out like that. It was out of your character, but you were a little drunk after all.

“Is it because-“ Dan started to ask but was cut off by a bone crushing hug you were receiving. He smiled watching two of his favorite people interact.

“You’re here! I didn’t think you were going to make it pass the pregame at Lando’s! He told me you drank three bottles of champagne.”

Max squeezed you once again and let you go, giving you a one over. The only sign that you were even remotely drunk, other than your slight irritability was the red cheeks and nose that always gave you away.

“The lady would like three shots of tequila.” Max asked the bartender.

Daniel wrinkled his nose at the order.

“That’s not just for me right?” Your stomach churning at the idea of doing three tequila shots. You would surely be spending quality time with the hotel toilet tonight.

“No, it’s for all of us. Drink up, Dan!”

The three of you downed the shots.

Multiple more followed that same night and you found yourself outside the club seeking some fresh air.

“I think I love him,” you whispered. Like saying it too loud would scare you or Max would hear your secret confession, but he had left you with Daniel hours earlier to prioritize Kelly and antagonize Charles.

Dan wrapped you in a safe hug and put his chin on top of your head.

“I know.”

—

“Now, Daniel,” the interviewer looked at where he was standing on the stage in front of hundreds of fans. Max on one side and Checo and Yuki on the other.

He waited for the question to come.

“How do you feel about the close relationship Max has with your sister?”

A picture of you and Max pulled up on the large screen. It was from a trip you all took to Italy four years ago.

You were sitting next to Max on the yacht he had rented for the trip. His arm wrapped around your shoulder and pressing a firm kiss to your cheek. Your hand placed on his cheek.

The picture definitely made you two look more than friendly with one another and it didn’t help that he and Kelly had just split up a few months ago after two years together.

She never made a public statement and neither did Max, it seemed to be one of the more admissible splits between any of the drivers and their significant others.

It seemed to be mutual decision but the media would never believe that. They wanted to make you the villain in this story, and it irritated Daniel.

“Yeah, it doesn’t bother me. They had been close for years and have always been good friends.”

“Yes, but—“

Max interrupted the interviewer and anyone could tell he was pissed.

“I don’t know why my personal life is being brought up and out on screen. It has nothing to do with racing, ask us about that or don’t speak.”

—

“It’s fucked up, pissed me off. Daniel should’ve just told them to fuck off.” Max said heatedly, sitting behind you on the new sofa he had just gotten for his apartment.

You say cross legged in front oh him on the floor. Picking at a piece of the carpet to entertain yourself. Sassy was cuddled up sleeping in your lap and you refused to move. This was the first time in years that she had shown you any affection.

Jimmy however, was a daddy’s boy, sitting behind Max on the edge of the sofa softly flicking his tail happily back and forth, occasionally tickling the back of Max’s neck when the soft fur brushed against it.

Max gave Kelly all the things she had picked out for he to decorate her new place with, so it called for new furniture, and he didn’t have particularly good taste in well…much of anything.

“Come on, it’s not like...you know—“ you tried to spit out that it wasn’t weird for the media to ask, they have been for years. Even when he was with his ex.

“Know what?”

“You know.” You stressed. Now Max was just even more confused.

“No I don’t.”

“Know that I-“ you pause, trying to gain some confidence to confess what you had been holding back for years. “That I like you. You moron.”

Max’s mouth dropped open a little, like he didn’t know. And that this was his first time ever hearing about it. Like you hadn’t been giving him the most obvious heart eyes for the past ten years.

“I..” and before you could fully prepare yourself he leaned forward and grabbed your face in his hands. Pulling you in for a passionate kiss that you had waited too long for.

He tasted like cinnamon.

The angle that he was kissing you at hurt your neck, but you couldn’t care less.

He pulled away and gave you the sweetest smile.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?I would’ve done that years ago.”

Now it was your turn to be shocked.

You hit his knee in playful irritation.

“I figured it was pretty fucking obvious.” You shot back a playful smile on your face. How could he honestly not tell? Especially when you were younger and followed him around like a puppy.

You even stayed in the Red Bull garage to support him when Dan left. You figured he would’ve known and just didn’t care.

"I just--I thought you knew."

Max, if anything, felt more clueless than he ever did in his entire life.

Of course you liked him after all this time. Each birthday you remembered, each surprise gift you gave him, coming to see him after a bad race just to sit in silence and watch cartoons.

Only someone who truly loved another person would do that. And that person was you.

You were his person.

—

"Max, who is that?" Leclerc pulled Max's attention away from the crowd he was currently waiving at on the drivers parade, to the phone screen that was brightly lit up in his left hand.

He had changed the photo a few weeks ago to one that you had sent to him. Wrapped up in one of his sweaters and smiling brightly at the camera.

He had taken it one night when you were just relaxing out of his patio, offering you his sweater when you got cold. It was oddly domestic for you two, but felt so normal at the same time.

"Fuck- that's baby Ricciardo?" The Ferrari driver whispered, catching a better look at the photo, a shit eating grin pulling across his lips. "I knew it."

"Yeah, yeah--" Max nervously scratched at the back of his neck, but Charles wasn't letting him out of the conversation that easily.

"It's about fucking time. Pierre told me that you two have been in love for a long time.”

Curse Pierre and his need to tell Charles everything.

“I’m happy for you.” Charles clapped his hand on Max’s shoulder. “But does Daniel know?”

“Of course. He was the first to know. She wouldn’t have lied to him.” Max admitted shyly.

Daniel had been ecstatic when the two of you fessed up to dating. Although the two of you would no doubt drive him insane, there was no one that could make his sister happier than Max.

Max was a good guy and Daniel had always seen that.

Charles smiled. It was nice to see that he was happy and finally realized that the two of you were a perfect match.

A text came through on Max’s phone screen, taking his attention away from Charles.

baby: good luck today champ. I love you!

Champ🏆: I love you too. See you when I get home.

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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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