Mv1 - Blog Posts
blowing smoke | max verstappen
summary: you broke up with max a few months ago but that doesn’t prevent you from feeling upset about his new relationship
fc: gracie abrams
a/n: max won the spanish gp and gracie released her album in the same week so ofc that meant i had to make a fic about max inspired by gracie’s album and use her as a faceclaim again ofc ofc
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liked by charles_leclerc, redbullracing and others
maxverstappen1 nice winter ❄️
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username uhm … sir … that’s not yn ???
username well they did broke up like 2 months ago sooo
username still a bit early, no?
username we love a padel king 🙌🏽
username RARE SHIRTLESS MAX
username the second pic … no need to make me feel single like that
username who’s the new gf tho? 👀
username oh so my parents are over over okay i see 😔
liked by francisca.cgomes, alexandrasaintmleux and others
yourusername back at my second home 🎧
tagged aarondessner
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username MOTHER IS BACK
username new music from yn the earth is healing !!!
alexandrasaintmleux la plus jolie💗
yourusername that would be you🫵🏽
username this breakup album is gonna be heart wrenching isn’t it 😔
username if aaron is participating i just KNOW is gonna be painful
username no i’m already preparing myself mentally to drown in my own tears
liked by f1wags and others
f1gossip max verstappen and his new girlfriend during the winter break
tagged maxverstappen1 and gfusername
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username why does he look bored with her
username cause he is
username ??? you don’t know them, leave them alone
username guys this is not funny i miss yn 😔
username her style is so good!
username i don’t like herrrr she gives me bad vibes
username fortunately you’re not the one who has to like her
liked by maxverstappen1, iamrebeccad and others
gfusername my valentine💘
tagged maxverstappen1
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username oh!
username first pic 🥰🥰
username last pic 😍😍
username that should be me!!!
username okay yeah she’s pretty
username they look so good together🥰
username someone check my girl yn’s pulse!!
username honestly i would k word myself if i lost THE max verstappen
username nahhh yn > max
liked by landonorris, oliviarodrigo and others
yourusername back to my ways like 2019
tagged sabrinacarpenter
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username ohhh she saw the post
username girl no!!! come back to 2024!!!
raye ohhh yes! 🍸
username omg 2019 yn you will always be famous ‼️
username okay but escapism is definitely her song
alexandrasaintmleux 🥰
username alex doesn’t approve i see
username guys i don’t know but partying and getting wasted every night like she was doing before meeting max doesn’t seem like the healthiest coping mechanism
username maybe she just wants to have fun now that she’s single 🤷🏽♀️ we can’t judge
username exactly! let her live
liked by gfusername, danielricciardo and others
maxverstappen1 great to be back! let’s go for more victories 🏆
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username to another year of hearing the dutch anthem every sunday
redbullracing for more career wins this year 🦁
username bro really posted a thirst trap for his first race win of the year
username no because the sun hitting his face like that ??? can’t complain
username lovely win 😮💨
username sooo babygirl
username he really is for the girlies!
gfusername 💗💗💗
liked by f1wags and others
f1gossip max verstappen at the after party of the saudi arabian grand prix seen without his girlfriend despite her attending the race
tagged maxverstappen1
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username max with a backwards cap is gonna be the end of me
username only man with a basic wardrobe that can look that hot
username 🥵 🥵 🥵
username WHY IS NO ONE TALKING ABOUT THE CAPTION
username without … the girlfriend … despite her being at the race …
username you’re reading too much into it
username let us be delusional in peace
username good for him!
liked by gfusername, sabrinacarpenter and others
yourusername now you know what we’ve been doing …. “Blowing Smoke” is out now! ⭐️
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username my girlfriend is releasing music again !!!
username song of the summer frrrr
username im obsessed with it 😍
lilymhe certified pop banger🤘🏽
yourusername a hole in one if i may 👀
username “if she’s got a pulse she meets your standards now” damn…
username she didn’t go to the studio to play
username “you couldn’t point her out in any crowd”
username “tell me if she takes you far enough away from all the baggage you've been carrying”
username “you feel nothing and yet you still let her”
username she wrote so many unhinged lyrics it’s insane‼️
alexandrasaintmleux favorite song ever 💞
yourusername you say that about all of them 🙄
alexandrasaintmleux they’re all amazing!
liked by alexandrasaintmleux, taylorswift and others
yourusername miss going on tour so much we’re doing it again! buy your tickets, bring your friends, we’re gonna have a rocking summer! 🎸✨
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username omg i’m hearing blowing smoke live 😭😭
username FINALLY
username she keeps feeding us and feeding us
username guys i just saw the dates and she performs on miami the same weekend of the grand prix …
username i noticed the same! is the only date that coincides with a grand prix
username could it be …. never mind
username no because even if none of the guys are thinking of going i just know the wags are dragging them
username you just made my entire year😩
francisca.cgomes and we’ll be going 😮💨
yourusername 💙💙💙
liked by schecoperez, alex_albon and others
maxverstappen1 lovely miami 🇺🇸
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username none of things i’m thinking of are in the bible
username TU-TU-TU-DU
username men should not be this hot
username pretending i didn’t see the last pic 😁
username he needs to post a warning next time
username let it gooo touch some grass
username SO DID HE WENT TO THE CONCERT OR NOT
username one of the girlies who went let us know!!!
username well the whole grid was there so i can only assume he was too 😭
liked by maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri and others
yourusername miami you are (as always) the loml
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username BEST NIGHT EVER
username you’re surreal and that was the best concert i’ve ever been to 💗
alexandrasaintmleux the most talented ever! 💘
yourusername 💞💞💞
username GRAMMY WHEN
username i may never recover from this night
username max lurching in the likes 👀
username oh he was definitely there
lilymhe screaming crying never getting over it !!!
yourusername obsessed with you screaming all the songs to my face 😭
alex_albon at least she wasn’t right by your side leaving you deaf ❌
liked by f1gossip, lailahasanovic and others
f1wags last pictures of max verstappen seen with his girlfriend arguing outside their hotel during the miami grand prix weekend two weeks ago. they haven’t been seen together ever since and they stopped following each other from social media
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username guys don’t get me excited 😩
username omg ??? are we out of the trenches ???
username not them breaking up after yn’s concert 😭
username ngl i don’t hate this
username does this mean yn and max have a chance of getting back together ???
username pls i need that to happen
username guys can you blame him??? he listened to blowing smoke!!!
username and mess it up, and i miss you i’m sorry, and feels like, and
username my divorced parents are getting back together i’m calling it
liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc and others
maxverstappen1 having a rocking summer🎸✨
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username EXCUSE ME
username not the caption‼️
username THE HARD LAUNCHING?
username how much do we wanna bet that yn gave him that drawing and he was waiting to post it
username THE LAST PIC???😭
username they’re the cutest
yourusername max! i thought we said we would soft launch
maxverstappen1 oops🤭
username we manifested too hard to the sun
username i just know he couldn’t wait to get back with yn
alexandrasaintmleux she’s everything 😍😍
yourusername you’re the loml you know that
maxverstappen1 uhmmm 🤨
charles_leclerc back off 🤺🤺🤺 yourusername
friends | max verstappen
summary: you and max broke up a few months ago and he can’t seem to get over it, looking for a second chance with you or at the very least, be friends
fc: camila morrone
warnings: food
a/n: so happy for max!! (a bit sad for lando but he said he had fun so happier for max overall) anyways enjoy this one based on that justin bieber song that’s been on loop in my head this whole week
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liked by maxverstappen1, sukiwaterhouse and others
yourusername a never ending series called yn being obsessed with food
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username how are you so gorgeous doing everything like what is your secret
username omg yn finally posted !!!
username girl we MISSED YOU
sukiwaterhouse my beautiful baby😚
yourusername not the iconic suki waterhouse on my comments 🤭
username what is max doing on the likes ???
username 🤨🤨🤨
username i thought he was out of the picture what is he doing here 😩
liked by samclaflin, maxverstappen1 and others
yourusername daisy jones & the six is now on streaming🌟 who’s watchinggg
tagged samclaflin, rileykeough and daisyjonesandthesix
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username FINALLY THIS IS WHAT DREAMS ARE MADE OF
username and she looked sooo good throughout the whole show
username the perfect camila dunne🫶🏽
samclaflin ❤️❤️❤️
username love the first pic they legit look like a couple ☺️
username max punching the air right now 🤣
username you really did the book justice!
username YN NATION WINS AGAIN
maxverstappen1 loved the show!
username what is this
liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and others
yourusername so happy to see all the support daisy jones and the six has gotten🤍 now the goldens 💫
tagged samclaflin
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username she’s legit getting prettier and prettier each day
username and that dress 😍
username i’m so happy she’s getting the recognition she deserves💕
username and of course she’s slaying on the red carpet
username i love her friendship with sam❤️🩹
username are they dating tho??
username max still on the likes seems a little…
username and now charles too
username what karma is she paying 😩😩😩
maxverstappen1 congratulations!
liked by yourusername, schecoperez and others
maxverstappen1 hot miami 🐬
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username last pic 😮💨😮💨
username no cause like, he knows what he’s doing
username nice p2!
username well, at least there was a podium
redbullracing great race🏆
username why is yn on the likes 😩
username pls god i never ask you much but pls
username guys let them live!
username am i the only one who lowkey wants them to get back together 🤭
yourusername 🦁🦁🦁
username okay bestie i get it
liked by landonorris, yourusername and others
maxverstappen1 sweet imola 🍝
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username aaaand back to winning
username and who’s that on the likes again👀
landonorris fun race mate👊🏽
username finally!!! as a redbull fan i can say i was in PAIN
redbullracing great comeback to p1😉
username you did amazing 💙💙💙
yourusername well if it isn’t my friend the grand prix winner 😅
maxverstappen1 🥰🥰🥰
username HUH?
yes, and? | max verstappen
summary: max’s impossible crush finally notice him, but he’s stuck in a pr relationship
fc: simone ashley
a/n: so i try something a bit different with this one and made it on the longer side (if you’ve listened to ariana’s song you know this is gonna be messy for sure) (also, simone ashley??? or the prettiest woman ever??? i’m obsessed with her)
—
liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and others
maxverstappen1 life off track
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username i screamed cried and fainted
username second pic should be illegal
megan.galanis 🥰
username not the pr girlfriend 🙄
username omg let them live!
username they’re dating, get over it
username the third pic pls he’s so POOKIE
username number 1 stan of max’s thighs
username thirsting on main???
username PLS because how can you not ??
liked by maxverstappen1, bffusername and others
ynusername bridgerton press tour at it’s finest 💍
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username MOTHER
username you’re the prettiest woman alive😩
username yn just one chance please !
bffusername slayyyy
yourusername 🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽
jbayleaf viscountess activities😎
yourusername 🐝🐝🐝
username im in love with a woman i’ve never met
tiktok comments
username never took max for a bridgerton guy???
username not complaining tho
username max in his regency romance era🤭
username now i get why he’s always in y/n’s likes like damn i too would be obsessed after watching her on that show
ynusername thank you! <3
liked by scuderiaferrari, maxverstappen1 and others
ynusername it’s the monaco grand prix! i never miss the grand prix🏁
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username yn and f1 my two passions❤️
username the way yn always serves cunt MUST be studied
bffusername is it? who’s playing?
username ohhh the reference i love them!
username gorgeous! 😍
username i’m in awe
maxverstappen1 🤣
liked by schecoperez, landonorris and others
maxverstappen1 P1 in Monaco🏆🇲🇨
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username the icon, the legend, the moment
username max verstappen, the only man ever🫶🏽
charles_leclerc nice one mate, congrats! 👊🏽
username no megan appearance, no like, no comment… are we out of the woods?
username oh wow, she didn’t go to 1 race, they obviously must have broken up 🙄
username no but seriously, did her contract ended or something?
username girl why are you so obsessed with their relationship? just leave them alone srsly
liked by megan.galantis, bffusername and others
f1gossippofficial max verstappen has been seen lately on multiple dates with actress y/n y/l/n around monaco
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username he’s been seen on WHAT
username with WHOM
username but… what about megan…
username what about her?
username never thought of y/n as a homewrecker
username never thought of max as a CHEATER!
username im not mad about this pairing tbh🤔
username megan liking this post and unliking it???
username and y/n’s best friend liking it also
username she’s so unserious
liked by bffusername, maxverstappen1 and others
ynusername moments📷
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username bestie who took the pics?👀
username don’t be shy you can tell us🤭
username THE PEOPLE’S PRINCESS
bffusername the most beautiful and pretty and talented and funny and smart and
ynusername i’ll marry you rn😩
username after those pics with max i can’t see her the same
username HOMEWRECKER
username haters gonna hate fr y/n i love you if you see this! 💕
maxverstappen1 🥰 (liked by ynusername)
username oh that’s not…
username this is so wrong in so many levels😭
liked by carlossainz55, ynusername and others
maxverstappen1 another successful weekend for the team, hopefully many more to come! 🇨🇦
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username “hopefully many more to come” as if we don’t know he’s gonna win all the races already
username being a red bull fan is sooo easy and fun i love it here
username i miss seeing megan in the paddock :(
username jesus christ who understands you, when she was there you hated on her and when she isn’t you miss her
username also, she just missed two races, like😭
username let’s goooo super max
redbullracing many more to come👊🏽
ynusername 🏎🏎 (liked by maxverstappen1)
username she really has no shame huh?
liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1 and others
ynusername yes, and?
tagged maxverstappen1
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username this was the last thing i expected when i open instagram
username pls the caption😭
username she’s NOT a serious person and i love her for it
username welcome back ariana grande😍
landonorris and my credits for the last picture?
ynusername props to you🙄
username hottest couple imo
username this post single handedly convinced me to watch her show
username it’s so good honestly!!
username yesss y/n and max bringing back messy celebrity couples we love to see it!
maxverstappen1 my one and only girlfriend you’re everything❤️
ynusername you’re too much love!💘
username not the “one and only girlfriend” !!
risk | max verstappen
summary: max confess in an interview that he took his nieces to y/n’s concert and made her a bracelet with his number on it
fc: gracie abrams
a/n: loosely based on taylor and travis cause those two are the cutest🫶🏽 this also fits perfectly with gracie’s new song so i just had to
—
KISS, MARRY, KILL posted by redbullracing on youtube
liked by francisca.cgomes, sabrinacarpenter and others
yourusername new york you’ll always have my heart ❤️
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username STUNNING
username the hardest mothering you’ve ever done i fear
username best concert ever i love you so much❤️🩹
username ate and devour 💋
sabrinacarpenter my love you killed it completely🫶🏽
yourusername STOPPP ILY💘
username what was the surprise song??
username mess it up!
username NOOOOOO
liked by taylorswift, maxverstappen1 and others
yourusername me and houston forever❤️🩹
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username the outfits omggg
username in awe of you
username im so lucky to be alive at the same time as you
taylorswift my baby you’re amazing🤍
yourusername i love love love you💗
username you’re so talented!!
username best day of my life💞
username loved the concert! also doble win cause i didn’t expect max to be there😁
username girl WHAT do you mean max was at the concert
username he’s on the likes too 👀
liked by flavy.barla, sabrinacarpenter and others
ynupdates new/old pictures of y/n at the last two grand prix’s (austin and brazil)
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tagged yourusername and maxverstappen1
username okay if this is not confirmation that they’re dating idk what it is
username this girl is on a whole ass tour and she still found time to go to max races 😭
username never in my life i thought i would be going to wake up at 1am to watch cars go in circles but i guess i’ll try for y/n
username like😭 a man could have never convinced me to watch formula 1 but y/n??? okay im seated
username and if i say it couple then what
username i’d say you’re completely right🫡
liked by alexandrasaintmleux, isahernaez and others
ynupdates y/n last night in chicago n1🤍 she included “risk” (her new single) into the setlist and sung “rumors” (her featuring with zayn) as a surprise song
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username elite night overall
username okay but this was was easy the best night yet
username the chicago n1 girlies won
username and guess who was at the concert again…
username 🦁?
username yep
username SHUT UP she sung rumors with max right there???
username and he was smiling the whole time it was very sweet 😭
username i’m also pretty sure that first picture was when she was singing it
username STOOOP😭
Y/N Y/L/N on her sold-out tour, new single “Risk” and new relationship posted by elle on youtube
i'mgonnagetyouback pt. 2 | max verstappen
part 1
summary: max is determined to win y/n back before leaving las vegas and an unexpected reunion at the hotel's pool might be just what he needed
warnings: none
word count: 1.5k
a/n: okay so i wasn't actually planning on doing a part 2 to this but a few people requested it and since i'm a pathological people pleaser here it its !!
“okay so, step one.” charles’s voice caughts his attention.
if max was gonna get y/n back, he needed to do it that weekend, she was leaving for her other tour dates and he had other races, and he needed a plan. that’s where charles, daniel and lando come in.
“break up with your girlfriend.” the monegasque continues. the other two men in the room nod, agreeing with the ferrari driver.
the second y/n’s concert finished, max felt the urge to go running backstage to her just like old times, but his plans were interrupted by the women he went to the concert with in the first place. his girlfriend wanted nothing more than to go back to the hotel and her daughter was too exhausted to even walk in a straight line, so he took them both to the hotel and then ran into charles’s room to create a plan, calling daniel and lando to join them.
“you’re right.” max says.
the thought of breaking up with his current girlfriend has been on the back of his mind for a while now. he didn’t really wanted to accept it, but he’s been in love with y/n all this time and it just wasn’t fair to be with someone else. step one was the most urgent.
“step two, call y/n and tell her that you wanna talk to her.” daniel speaks this time.
this one was the step he was the most nervous about. they haven’t talked for ten months and now suddenly he was thinking of getting back together, i mean, what if she moved on already? just because he hasn’t doesn’t mean she didn’t either; but he remembered her singing a few hours ago about getting him back, even if it was just to punch him in the face. he would take what he can get.
“maybe mention that you went to see her show as well.” lando adds.
“what if she thinks i’m a creep or something?” charles gives him an incredulous look.
“mate, come on, you’re her ex, not some random dude.” max nods again and felt the stress of anticipation already creeping in.
“it’ll be fine, max, nothing to worry about.” daniel tries to reassure him and lando smiles at him in the same way.
he exhales and stands up from the chair he was seated on.
“i should go back to my room. start things with the right foot.” they all agree with him and wish him good luck.
when he got back to his room, he saw his girlfriend’s daughter already asleep on her bed and his girlfriend laying down and watching something on tv. he prepared himself internally and went into the room.
“hey.” he says. “can we talk?”
he was quick. it was as uncomfortable as breaking up with someone is, but he felt a bit relieved after. she tried to persuade him into thinking about it, he said he didn’t want to hurt her. he told her they could stay at that room and he would just ask for another at the reception, she agreed. she asked if this was because of y/n, he stayed silent for a moment. he couldn’t lie, not that it was all already out there, and y/n was not a secret he had to hide to anyone. he said yes. she asked him to get out. he did.
max went down to the hotel’s reception and asked for an extra room. since it was a bit late at night they asked him to wait an hour until they arranged one of the suites for him. he agreed without complaining and was about to head back to charles’s room, however, already on the elevator he impulsively pressed the button for the last floor that took him directly to the pool. it was dark and there was no one there, the dim lights on the inside of the pool being the only lightning.
he walked over to the balcony and admired the view of las vegas beneath him, from his position he could see the whole downtown, including the track that he would be driving that weekend. if he wouldn’t have been too distracted he would have heard the sound of small steps going his way, stopping right at the entrance.
you thought you were seeing things, or that you had gone mad. you blink twice, and when he didn’t disappear, you knew max verstappen was standing right in front of you. you could recognize him anywhere.
the uncomfortable burning feeling of being looked at got the best of him and he finally turned around. he didn’t say anything, thinking it was his imagination playing games, but it wasn’t, you were right there, just mere inches away from him.
“y/n.” was all he could say. he figured a hello would be the way to go. “hey.”
you looked just as shocked as he was, but that didn’t stop you from answering.
“hi, max.” your voice was more confident than how you actually felt.
you had just done a three hour show and just wanted to relax a bit in the pool before going back to your room, and now you were there, facing your ex-boyfriend.
“you’re staying here?” he asks, regretting it instantly because of course you were.
“yeah.” you answer, not moving a single centimeter. “i have a few shows this weekend.” you explain.
“i know.” he says, almost too quickly. you arch a brow at him but don’t say anything. “i’m racing here this weekend.” you nod.
“i know.” you copy his answer, although you take a few more moments to say it.
“i went to your show.” he says out of nowhere.
this shocks you even more than before because what does he mean he went to your show?
“what?” is all that you could mumble.
“tonight.” he clarifies. “i went to see you. i hope you don’t think that’s… inappropriate.” his eyes finally leave yours and he looks at the pool instead.
“i don’t think… why would it be inappropriate?” you ask, a bit flabbergasted still. “i don’t think that.”
he nods relieved to hear you say that.
“so you went to the show?” you ask again. “you heard me sing all those songs?” you question, a bit shy.
“yeah, it was incredible.” he smiles at you. “you’re the most talented person i know.”
this makes you blush because he still has that power over you. you couldn’t manage to thank him for the compliment, so you just smiled at him, which was enough for him.
“i liked your surprise song.” he states, more confident this time.
“oh.” you reply. “you did?” he nods. “yeah, i guess it’s a fun song.” you chuckle, knowing damn well you wrote it thinking about him.
this was it, he thought. this was the moment he had been fantasizing about since he stepped into the stadium that night. how to get y/n back? this was his opportunity to do something. no charles, daniel or lando to whisper in his ear. it was all him.
“is it true?” he questions.
“what?” you frown.
“what you were singing in the song?” he explains. “i’m not gonna flatter myself thinking you wrote it about me, but, did you?”
you bit your lip trying not to laugh. how could you confess that to him?
“are you asking me if i want you back?” he notices that you ignored his question, but he didn’t care.
“i know i do.” you looked at him for a few seconds too long, processing his answer.
“i thought you had a girlfriend?” you mumble and he shakes his head.
“we’re not together anymore.” finally, he moves slowly from the other end of the balcony toward you and you remain still. “i’ve always been yours.”
you look at him properly this time, you could see every detail of his face now with how close he was to you and you felt like the ten months you haven’t talked to him hadn’t passed at all.
“and i can understand if you moved on already, but i must tell you i haven’t, for me it has always been you.”
the reasons of why you had broken up all those months ago seemed so silly now. he wasn’t a bad guy, and you weren’t a bad person. your break up wasn’t ugly, both of you had just been too busy with your crazy schedules and you thought ending things would be for the best, but not a day had passed where you didn’t regret that decision.
max was everything, and he was here in front of you, asking for a second chance.
“and when i saw you tonight at your show and i just fell more in love if that’s even possible, and i thought of all the time we wasted and i…”
you touched his face with tenderness and cut him off with a kiss that was long due.
—
liked by maxverstappen1, lilymhe and 5.482.049 others
yourusername viva las vegas! 🏁 incredible crowd for and incredible night ⭐️
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user1 omg best day of my life 😭
user2 night 1 post we wonnn
user3 girl we see that emoji 👀
user4 we see max in the likes too 👀
user5 please don’t start this i couldn’t take it 😩
user6 max at the concert, she posted pictures and she sung imgonnagetyouback as a surprise song, las vegas n1 really won 😭
user7 MAX WAS AT THE CONCERT ???
liked by yourusername, schecoperez and 893.482 others
maxverstappen1 Brand new, full throttle… 🏎
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redbullracing congrats legend! 🏆
user8 the only time he smiled during this whole weekend 😭
user9 max is so me cause i also talked shit about this race only to lowkey enjoy it at the end
user10 not him using the lyrics of so high school 😭😭
user11 sir is there something we should know? 👀
yourusername who’s that grand prix winner? 😮💨
maxverstappen1 i love you ❤️
user12 WHAT SINCE WHEN
user13 chat is this real ???
user14 y/nstappen back together the earth is healing 🤍
liked by francisca.cgomez, maxverstappen1 and 7.482.949 others
yourusername where’s the trophy? he just comes running over to me 💘
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user15 EXCUSE ME MA’AM ???
user16 omg y/nstappen i used to pray for times like this‼️
user17 the alchemy mentioned we won !!!
user18 Y/NSTAPPEN NATION LET’S RISE
alexandrasaintmleux so happy to have you back in the paddock🫶🏽💞
yourusername girl i’m happy to be back😭
user19 the fact that he actually run over to her after winning the race ohhh i’m so normal about them 😩
user20 MAX VERSTAPPEN CAN YOU FIGHT?
maxverstappen1 could never fight the alchemy❤️
yourusername my maxxx ❤️
user21 pls they’re the cutest 😭
fresh out the slammer | max verstappen
summary: after you broke up with your boyfriend, you join your friends for a night out in monaco and decide it's a good idea to invite max
warnings: fluff, mentions of breakups, drinking
word count: 1.8k
a/n: giggling and kicking my feet at the thought of a situationship with max
it’s been one month since you and your ex-boyfriend of one year broke up. you couldn’t say you were heartbroken because you really weren’t, like most men do at some points in their lives, he was disappointing you long before you broke up with him, so in a way, you mourn your relationship while you were still in it. now you just felt a bit lonelier than before, but you had definitely moved on.
on a saturday night, you had a few friends over to your monaco apartment for dinner and a very well deserved gossip session. you told them all about your breakup with your most recent boyfriend and how you were feeling almost too good.
“guys, what if we go out?” one of your best friends suggests. “a friend of mine is having a party at this club downtown and is supposed to be this very exclusive thing.” you thought about it for a few seconds after agreeing. it has been a while since you went out with your friends, especially in monaco where everything can happen. you got ready in less than ten minutes since you already were put together and joined your friends in the car on your way to the club.
during the quick ride you check your instagram and saw that your friend max posted a story. you and max have had this weird relationship for years, were you’re both really close friends who’ve also liked each other forever, but none of you had actually made a move on each other (except for that one time, but you’ve never talked about it). you clicked on his profile picture and the story popped up, a picture of him and his friends playing fifa on his couch. you smiled and liked the photo, putting your phone away.
once you got to the club your friend led you all to the entrance and when she gave her name to the bouncer they let you all in. the place was completely packed, but she took you all to a place on the top that was a bit less full and looked more like that exclusive event your friend was talking about. soon enough, alcohol was running through your system and your body was moving along with the blasting music at the club when a thought almost made you stop on your tracks. you looked for your best friend all over the place and ran over to her when you saw her near the bar.
“hey.” you call out loudly over the music.
“hey.” she smiled at you. “having fun?” she asks and you nod.
“can i tell you this idea i just had?” she takes a sip from her drink and nods. “would it be a good idea if i invited max?” her eyes widen with surprise and gives you a knowing smile.
“max like max verstappen?” she asks. “like your max?” you nod again, this time more euphorically.
“yes, my max.” you took a sip of your drink and cleared your throat. “he’s in monaco, so why not? the worst that can happen is he says no.” you shrug, like the idea of him not wanting to see you didn’t kill you a bit inside.
“go for it!” she exclaims. “absolutely, yes, invite him over.”
you smiled and headed over to the balcony, relieved to feel the cold air of the monaco night hit your skin, cooling you down. you took out your phone and hover over max’s contact for a moment, wondering if you should text or call first. you decided to call since that would be much more immediate. you listen to the phone ringing for a few moments and when you thought it would send you to voicemail, you heard max’s familiar voice.
“hello.” he answers.
“heyyy.” you greet him with a smile that he couldn’t see.
“y/n.” he calls your name with happiness. “how are you?”
“i’m good, how are you?” you ask. “what are you up to?”
“oh, i’m good, yeah.” he says. “just hanging out with some friends. you?”
“i’m in monaco.” you say looking at the stars. “actually, i’m at this club, i was wondering if you wanted to come? you can bring your friends, my friends are here too.”
you waited for him to answer so long you thought the line had dropped.
“what club are you in?” you gave him the name and heard some loud voices in the background. “okay, we’ll be there in twenty.”
you smiled at the sky and bit your lip.
“okay.” you answered and finished the call.
when you got back inside you met your friends again and let them know that max was coming with his friends. twenty minutes later, you were still dancing in the middle of the place when someone tapped your shoulder with tenderness. when you turned around you saw those blue eyes that you loved staring back at you.
“hello, you.” you smiled at him and he returned it.
“long time no see.” he said, giving you a small kiss on the cheek. you felt yourself flustered and were grateful that the place was mostly dark with a few colored lights.
“you should’ve told me when you got here, i would’ve gone outside to get you.” you frowned, ignoring the blush on your face.
“i wanted it to be a surprise.” he defends himself.
“it can’t be a surprise if i invited you.” you fought back and he placed his arm around your shoulders.
“you know what i mean.” he clicked his tongue, teasing you.
you spent the next hour dancing, drinking and talking with max. it was like the world around you had disappeared and it was only the two of you left in that club. when you took a quick break from dancing he got close to you and whispered in your ear.
“do you want to go outside?” he asks. you felt yourself blush again but nodded.
he was about to guide you to the balcony but you redirected him to the exit of the club. you stopped briefly to let your friend know that you were leaving with max for a moment so she wouldn’t worry and she just winked at you. you took his hand so you wouldn’t lose him while walking through all the people at the club and once you were outside you dropped his hand, even though you didn’t really wanted to, but the last thing you wanted was to make it uncomfortable for him.
“you wanna take a walk?” he asks while taking his jacket and putting it around your shoulders.
you nod and smile at him, grateful for his jacket. you both start walking along the streets, talking about nothing in particular until he makes the question you knew he wanted to ask all night.
“how’s it going with your boyfriend?” he doesn’t look at you while asking, no matter how much you wanted him to do so.
“we broke up.” you answer dryly.
“oh.” he finally looks at your face for any hint of sadness, but there is none. you’re not sad about it.
“how’s it going with your girlfriend?” you ask now, remembering the gorgeous redhead he was dating a few months ago.
it was on one of those few occasions both of you were in monaco at the same time. you were leaving from café de paris with your best friend and you crossed him at the entrance, next to him was one of the most beautiful girls you’ve ever seen, holding his hand. you remembered she introduced herself as his girlfriend and your heart skipped a beat at the word, even though you had no right to feel anything like that since you had a boyfriend yourself. you said your goodbyes and he did too and that was the last time you saw him.
“what was her name again?” you asked. “i can’t remember.”
“we broke up.” max ignored your last question, answering the first one you asked instead.
“oh.” you frowned, sad for him for whatever reason. maybe it was the alcohol in you bringing out all the emotions. “what happened?”
“it just didn’t work out.” he answers simply, giving you a reassuring smile.
“when did you break up?” you knew you were a bit out of line meddling into his relationship. especially when he didn’t ask you these types of questions about your own breakup, but you couldn’t help it.
“a few months ago.” he said, completely unfazed by your curiosity. “actually, it was the day you met her.”
“at the café de paris?” you questioned with surprise and he nodded. “why would you break up with your girlfriend there? it’s such a lovely place.”
he wanted to laugh at your remark, but bit his lip instead.
“i saw you.” he whispered and you felt like all the air was leaving your lungs.
“you broke up with your girlfriend because you saw me?” you ask incredulously and he nods again. “why would you do that?”
“why do you think, y/n?”
he holds your eyes for a few seconds until you turn your head and continue walking. you didn’t answer him and he didn’t say anything else, his words hanging in the air while you got wrapped into a comfortable silence. you were trying to process his train of thought while also processing yours. could his words have such an impact on you? did he feel about you the same way you’ve always felt about him? would he want to try something with you? with each question you asked in your head, you felt yourself leaning more and more into max until the back of your hands brushed each other while walking. he felt so familiar in so many ways.
before you could realize it, you were both outside of your apartment building. did you really walk this much?
“well.” he said, breaking the silence. “i guess this is where i leave you.” he pointed with his chin at the building.
you looked at him for a few seconds, your mind racing ten thousand miles per hour.
“you could stay.” you whisper.
max looked at you, a sparkle in his eyes you knew too well.
“you’re drunk.” he murmured, just like you had. you shook your head and got closer to him, touching the collar of his shirt gently.
“just as much as you.” you were so close you could see every speck of color in his eyes. “i think the walk here sober me up, anyway.” you joke, taking your eyes off of him, fearing that looking at him a second longer would make you do something unexpected.
“are you sure about this?” he took your face between his hands, forcing you to look at him. the beautiful blue of his eyes was now much darker and you fell a little bit more in love just by looking at them.
“of course i’m sure.” your voice low, only for him to hear. “i’ve always been.”
his eyes went from your eyes to your lips, and then back into your eyes.
“come inside.” you ask.
he smiles at you like he just won a championship, taking your hand and pulling you into the building.
i'mgonnagetyouback | max verstappen
part 2
summary: after you and max broke up you released an album about it and when you go on tour, you didn't expected max to be there front row after being dragged by his new girlfriend's daughter
warnings: none
word count: 877
a/n: this is kinda told in max's pov (?, also heavily inspired on taylor's eras tour and i slightly changed the lyrics of the song to relate it a bit more to max
the lights were out in the stadium but there was barely any darkness. the lights of flashes from phones and twinkling colored light bracelets illuminated the allegiance stadium in las vegas, every person there waiting for the one and only y/n y/l/n.
if you would’ve told max months ago that he was gonna be at her ex-girlfriend’s sold out concert the same weekend he was racing in vegas, he would’ve laughed in your face. but here he was, waiting with the other 69,000 people for her to show up on stage and sing all her hit songs, including the ones that she wrote about him after their breakup.
he had to remind himself that the only reason he was doing this was because of his new girlfriend's daughter, who begged them for weeks to take her to y/n’s concert or she would simply die. she was y/n’s biggest fan because, of course, karma had to do that to max. so there he was, in the vip section of the stadium without y/n’s knowledge, next to his new girlfriend and her daughter.
the lights on the bracelets turned off and the stadium went a bit darker than before, announcing the start of the show. when a huge clock on the stage came up and it reached the number zero, y/n came out singing the first song of the concert and the crowd went wild. max was immediately mesmerized by her. she hadn’t changed much since they broke up, that much he noticed, and she was as beautiful as ever.
he had to control himself not to sing along to her songs to not give his girlfriend a bad impression, even though her daughter was singing all her songs by heart. he just nodded and move along with the rhythm, avoiding the gaze of his girlfriend who was very well aware of her boyfriends history with the singer on stage.
y/n was singing her most famous songs and a few that were more lowkey, and when they reached the acoustic set of the concert, she was carrying a wide smile while playing a few keys on the piano. max smiled at the sight of her.
“hello, vegas!” she shouted at the microphone, making the whole stadium scream. “welcome to the acoustic set.” she smiled. “i’ve been meaning to sing different surprise songs every night, some that i haven’t played in a while, some others brand new. this one particularly is from my new album, i hope you enjoy it.”
max stopped breathing for a second. it was very well known with the public that y/n’s new album was about their breakup and she hadn’t sung any of those songs until tonight. he didn’t know what to do with himself or how to behave, so he simply crossed his arms and stood a bit further into the vip section. in the location he was he had a perfect view of her, but she hadn’t seen him all night.
soon enough y/n start singing one of the songs from the new album that max new for a fact was about him. he hadn’t listen to the whole album because he just didn’t want to relieve the breakup. in his defense he did try to give it a listen, but it was just to overwhelming for him so he had to stop listening mid-album, but this one he knew.
Lilac short skirt / The one that fits me like skin
max submerged himself in the lyrics and y/n’s incredibly familiar voice. only now she wasn’t singing just for him, but for thousands of people.
Whether I'm gonna be your wife or / Gonna smash up your car, I / Haven't decided yet / But I'm gonna get you back
a rebel smile appeared on his face, incapable of hiding how much she meant to him, how much he had missed her. seeing her there, singing her heart out on stage for a crowd of people who were crazy about her, god, how could he lost her?
I can feel it comin', hummin' in the way you move / Push the reset button, we're becoming something new / Say you got somebody, I'll say, "I got someone too" / Even if it's handcuffed, I'm leaving here with you
the smile on her face while singing the song she wrote made his smile even greater. he didn’t know the song fully like his girlfriend’s daughter, but he knew; he lived it, just as much as she did. in that moment in time, he felt connected to her in a level that no one in the stadium was.
I hear the whispers in your eyes / I'll make you wanna think twice / You'll find that you were never not mine / I'm gonna get you back
when the song finished, the multitude exploited in praise and y/n’s smile grew on her face. max completely forgot about everyone else and joined the crowd, screaming for her and applauding. y/n stood up from the piano and did a small bow before leaving the stage for her next set of songs.
it was as clear as day for max and it struck him like lightning. he was gonna get her back.
the prophecy | max verstappen
summary: you and max can never agree on the same topic of conversation and it might be the thing that breaks you up
warnings: angst, some yelling
word count: 805
you love max. you really do. but you hate when he brings up the same topic of conversation that you'll never agree on.
“i’m not moving to monaco.” you say for the million time.
“i’m just saying it would be way easier for us.” he answers unbothered while eating his dinner.
you avoid rolling your eyes at his comment and just decide to ignore him. since you got together, distance has been a complicated issue for you both. with max flying almost the whole year for races and then going home to monaco and you working and living in new york, the two of you only saw each other during breaks and when you could occasionally fly to see him race.
and yes, maybe it would make it easier if one of you just moved, but why did it have to be you? living in new york has been your dream since you were a kid and saw it in the movies, and now that you finally got a job that you enjoy in the city of your dreams, are you really gonna leave it? hell no.
“why don’t you think about it?” he insists.
you drop the fork you were holding on the plate creating an exaggerated noise.
“would you do it for me?” you ask, exhausted. “would you move to new york for me?” he shakes his head and went back to his dinner.
“is not the same.” he says.
“why don’t you move to new york?” you ask instead. this caught his attention and he finally moved his eyes from the food to you. “what is it to you anyway? you’re traveling the whole time, i on the other hand, actually work here.”
“you can get a job in monaco.” he replies like he always did when the topic came up.
“i don’t want a different job!” you raise your voice. “and i don’t want to move to monaco.” he didn’t said anything, fearing that whatever came out of his mouth would disturb you more than you already were. “if you wouldn’t do it for me, why would i do it for you?”
you regret it the moment you said it, but it was too late now, it was out there. you could recognize the pain in max’s face from miles away and you felt a little guilty that you were relieved when you said it so you didn’t have to hide your thoughts on the topic anymore.
“because that is what people in relationships do, y/n.” he answers, his tone rather harsh. “you sacrifice things for each other.”
“why do i have to be the one to sacrifice things?” you couldn’t stop now that it was out there.
“why are you being so immature about this?” he exhales, a tired expression on his face which only made you angrier.
“i’m not acting “immature” about this.” you attack. “you just ask me to give up my whole life to go live in a complete different continent for you and i said no, period.”
“so what are we supposed to do, y/n?” he raise his voice at you also. “what are we doing here? playing around?” you frown, nodding your head in disbelief. “i love you too much but this long distance thing is killing me.” he admits.
to be fair, you weren’t the biggest fan of long distance either, but there was no other choice. it was either that or broke up, and you definitely didn’t want to break up.
“look, i know it is not perfect but what else can we do?” you ask, even though the answer was right there, it was obvious that neither of you was going to give in.
“this cannot be the thing that breaks us up.” he whispers but you heard him.
“of course we’re not gonna break up, max.” you say. “that seems extreme.” a grimace of sadness appeared on your face.
“well, i’m not sure what else…” he didn’t continue. “i’m not moving to new york.” he says with a serious tone. “and it seems like you’re not moving to monaco. and none of us wants to do long distance.” you kept quiet, trying to wrap your mind around what he was implying, praying that your conclusions were wrong.
“so?” you ask somewhat fearfully.
“so… i don’t know.”
“you want to end things?” you question straightforwardly, not wanting to wander anymore where his mind was.
“i don’t.” he answers. “but can we continue how we are?” his face was of true despair.
“is it really this serious?” your voice was seconds away from breaking but you didn’t want to look shattered in front of him.
“you tell me.” he says with a lump on his throat.
you couldn’t help but wonder if this was always how it was going to end.
Since Forever
Max Verstappen x Schumacher!Reader
Summary: there’s been one constant in Max’s life since his first wobbly toddler steps in the paddock — he’s loved her since he was ten, through scraped knees and family vacations — and now it’s time that the rest of the world knows it too
Warnings: depictions of Michael Schumacher post-accident which are entirely fictitious because none of us truly know how he’s doing nowadays
The Red Bull garage smells like brake dust, adrenaline, and over-commercialized energy drinks. It’s chaos in that organized, obsessive way Formula 1 teams thrive on. Engineers speak in clipped, caffeinated sentences. Tires hum against concrete. Data streams across ten thousand screens.
And then you walk in.
“Is that-”
“No way.”
“Schumacher?”
You’re used to it. The way your last name wraps around every whispered sentence like a secret. Like a warning. Like a prayer. You keep your shoulders back, walk straight through the center of the garage in black trousers and the team-issued polo. The Red Bull crest is stitched onto your chest like it’s always belonged there.
Christian sees you first.
“Look who finally decided to join us,” he says, striding forward like he hasn’t been texting you at ungodly hours for three weeks straight.
You smile, small and knowing. “You know, most teams onboard a new staff member with an email.”
“You’re not most staff. You’re a Schumacher.”
“Still have to sign an NDA like everyone else, though, right?”
Christian laughs, claps you on the shoulder. “Welcome to the team. We’re all thrilled. And Helmut — well, he’s pretending not to be, so that’s basically the same.”
“Flattering.”
You don’t say more because you don’t need to. You feel it before you see it. The shift. Like gravity getting heavier in one very specific corner of the room.
And then-
“Y/N?”
His voice slices through the garage like it was built for this very moment. Not loud, not urgent — just certain. You look up. And Max is already moving. He doesn’t walk, doesn’t run. He just moves. Like the world rearranges to let him reach you faster.
He’s halfway through a debrief. Headphones still hanging around his neck. One of the engineers tries to catch his sleeve.
“Max, we’re still-”
“Later.”
He says it without looking, eyes locked on you. The garage quiets. Not because people stop talking, but because no one can pretend they’re not watching. The way his mouth tugs into a smile. The way his eyes soften — actually soften.
You don’t realize you’re smiling back until you feel it ache in your cheeks.
“Hey,” he says when he stops in front of you. He sounds different now. Not the Max the media knows. Not the firestorm in a race suit. This Max is … quiet. Warm.
“Hey yourself,” you say.
He doesn’t hesitate. His hand finds yours like it’s muscle memory. Like it’s what he’s always done. Like no time has passed at all.
And the silence in the garage goes from curiosity to stunned disbelief.
“You’re actually here,” Max says, voice low. “You didn’t change your mind.”
“Why would I?”
“I don’t know. Thought you might remember what this place is like.”
You arch an eyebrow. “You mean competitive? Chaotic? Full of emotionally repressed men pretending they don’t need therapy?”
He laughs, really laughs. It’s the kind that creases the corners of his eyes. The kind that makes even Helmut Marko glance over from a screen with a raised brow.
“You’re gonna fit in just fine.”
“I’m not here to fit in, Max. I’m here to work.”
He squeezes your hand gently. “Yeah. Okay. But maybe also to see me?”
“Debatable.”
He grins. “Liar.”
And just behind him, leaning against the edge of the garage like he’s watching a slow-motion movie unfold, Jos Verstappen crosses his arms. The old-school paddock fixture, the human thunderstorm. He sees your joined hands, sees the ease between you and his son, and — for the first time in years — he smiles. A real one. A soft one.
You spot him. “Uncle Jos.”
That does it. That cracks the surface of the paddock.
“She called him Uncle Jos.”
“Did she just-”
“Holy shit.”
He pushes off the wall and walks over with that casual menace that makes grown men flinch. But not you. Never you.
“You’re late,” Jos says, but his voice is warm.
“I’m fashionably on time,” you shoot back.
“You’re your father’s daughter.”
You nod. “And you’re still terrifying. Some things never change.”
Jos chuckles. Then he puts a hand on your shoulder. And the garage collectively forgets how to breathe.
“Good to have you back.”
Max watches the exchange like it’s some kind of private miracle. Like he can’t quite believe it’s all happening out loud, in front of everyone. You look up at him, still holding his hand. He looks down at you like nothing else matters.
“You’re going to make me soft,” he mutters.
“You were already soft,” you reply.
He huffs, drops your hand only to throw an arm over your shoulders instead. Casual. Familiar. Ridiculously comfortable. And no one — not a single soul in the garage — misses the way you lean into him like you belong there.
Because you do.
“So,” Max says, glancing back at Christian, who is clearly enjoying the spectacle. “Does she get a desk? Or do we just give her mine?”
“She’s your performance psychologist,” Christian says. “Not your shadow.”
“Close enough,” Max says.
“Jesus Christ,” mutters someone in the back.
You elbow him. “You’re making this worse.”
“I’m not making anything worse,” he says, turning back to you. “You think I care what they think?”
“Max.”
“They’ve always talked. Let them talk.”
You sigh. But it’s the kind of sigh you’ve always saved for him — half exasperated, half enamored. “This is going to be a circus.”
“We were always the main act, anyway.”
It’s true, and he knows it. From karting in the middle of nowhere to Monaco summers and Christmases in St. Moritz. You and Max were a constant. A unit before you knew what that even meant.
And now here you are. Older. A little more tired. A little more careful. But still you.
A comms guy in a headset leans over and whispers something to Christian, who nods.
“Alright, lovebirds,” Christian says. “Much as I’m enjoying the reunion special, some of us still have a car to run. Y/N, your office is upstairs. We cleared the far corner for you — less noise, more privacy.”
“Perfect,” you say.
Max doesn’t move.
“Max,” Christian warns.
“In a second,” he replies, and somehow it’s not bratty, just firm.
You turn to him, squeezing his wrist this time. “I’ll see you after?”
“Try and stop me.”
And then — just when you think he’s going to let you go like a normal person — he leans in. Presses his lips to your temple in the most casual, unremarkable, intimate gesture in the world.
And that’s the moment the garage truly loses its mind.
Phones are out. Whispers spiral.
Max Verstappen kissed someone in the middle of the garage.
Max Verstappen is in love.
You pull away, roll your eyes at the attention, but Max just smirks and says, “Told you they’d talk.”
“You’re unbelievable,” you mutter, walking toward the stairs.
“You used to like that about me.”
You don’t turn around. Just throw a hand up over your shoulder in mock surrender. “Still do.”
And Max?
He watches you go with that same expression he used to wear when he crossed finish lines as a kid. Like he’s already won.
***
When you open the door to the Monaco apartment that evening, you don’t even get your bag off your shoulder before Max says, “You’re late.”
He’s barefoot, shirtless, still damp from the shower, a tea towel thrown over one shoulder like he’s playing housewife. The smell of something lemony and warm wafts from the kitchen. He’s already made you dinner. Of course he has.
“I said I’d be home after eight,” you reply, dropping your bag and slipping off your shoes. “It’s eight-oh-six.”
“Which is late.” He walks toward you, frowning like you’ve personally offended him.
“You sound like my dad.”
Max stops in front of you, looks down with that slow smile that always disarms you more than it should. “Your dad liked me.”
You snort. “My dad made you sleep on the sofa for five straight summers.”
“Because I was thirteen and in love with you. He was protecting his daughter l.”
You laugh, eyes softening. He leans in, presses his lips to your forehead. “You’re tired.”
“I’m always tired.”
“I’ll fix that.”
“You’re not a sleep aid.”
He pulls away, grinning. “I am if you let me be.”
You smack his chest and walk past him, straight to the kitchen where there’s already a mug waiting on the counter — chamomile, oat milk, two teaspoons of honey. Exactly how you like it. You don’t even remember telling him the ratio. He just knows.
“You unpacked my books,” you say, surprised.
Max shrugs. “You’ve had those same four boxes for three years. Figured it was time someone gave them a shelf.”
“In your apartment.”
He leans against the counter, arms folded. “You live here.”
You tilt your head. “Do I?”
Max raises an eyebrow. “You’ve got three drawers in my closet, your toothbrush is in my bathroom, and I bought non-dairy milk for your weird tea. You live here.”
You take a sip and sigh. “You didn’t really give me a choice.”
“You didn’t argue.”
“Because you unpacked everything before I even had time to look for a place.”
He shrugs again, smug. “Felt like a waste of time. You were gonna end up here anyway.”
You hate that he’s right. You really do. But he’s so smug and soft about it — never controlling, just sure. Sure of you. It’s terrifying. And wonderful.
“You didn’t even leave a single box for me,” you say, feigning irritation.
“I left one,” he says. “It’s in the bedroom.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Why?”
He looks at you, serious now. “It’s the one with your karting suit in it.”
Oh.
The memory crashes into you, vivid and sharp.
***
You’re nine years old and your leg is bleeding.
Not a little. Not a scratch. Bleeding.
Max is already beside you on the asphalt before anyone else reaches the track. He’s crouched down, pale, shaking, trying to keep your helmet steady with trembling fingers.
“You’re okay,” he says, but he sounds like he might cry. “You’re fine. You’re okay.”
“I’m not crying,” you snap.
“Good,” he says. “Because if you cry, I’ll cry. And I’m not crying.”
Then he takes your hand.
And doesn’t let go.
He holds it all the way to the ambulance, all the way through the stitches. Jos tried to pry him off you once. Michael stopped him.
“She’s fine,” Jos said.
But Michael just smiled.
“She will be,” he said, “because he’s not going anywhere.”
***
Back in the kitchen, Max watches you closely. You set the mug down and turn to him.
“That’s why you left the box?”
He nods. “Didn’t want to touch that one.”
You take a slow breath. The air feels thick with everything you’re not saying.
“Did you keep it?” You ask. “The one from your first win?”
“Framed it,” he says. “It’s in the sim room.”
“Next to your helmets?”
He nods. “Next to your letters.”
Your throat tightens. “You kept them.”
Max looks at you like you’ve just said something ridiculous. “Of course I kept them. You wrote me every week for two years.”
“I didn’t think you’d still have them.”
“They’re the only reason I got through that time. You know that.”
You do. God, you do.
***
Another flash: summer in the south of France. You’re thirteen. He’s fourteen. Your families have rented a villa together, as always. It’s hot and lazy and stupidly perfect.
You’re floating in the pool, eyes closed, and he splashes you on purpose. You scream. He laughs.
Later, he sits beside you on the balcony, his leg brushing yours under the table. He doesn’t move it.
“I think I’m gonna marry you one day,” he says, out of nowhere.
You nearly choke on your lemonade. “What?”
“I’m serious.”
“You’re not serious.”
He looks at you. Really looks at you. “I am.”
Your dad walks out just then, sees you both with flushed faces, and sighs so loud it could be heard across the bay.
“I swear,” Michael mutters, half to himself, “he’s going to marry her. Jos owes me fifty euros.”
***
Now, standing in your shared kitchen in Monaco, you lean against the counter and say, “My dad predicted this, you know.”
Max doesn’t miss a beat. “Yeah. He told me when I was twelve.”
“What?”
“We were in Italy. You had that meltdown after you lost the junior heat.”
You remember it. You remember throwing your helmet and screaming into a tire wall. You remember Max just sitting beside you until you stopped.
“He came over and said ‘You’ll marry her one day. I hope you realize that.’”
You stare. “Why didn’t you ever tell me that?”
Max shrugs, looking down at the mug in your hand. “Didn’t want to scare you off.”
“You were twelve.”
“Still could’ve scared you off.”
You laugh, soft and disbelieving. “You’re insane.”
He leans in, presses a kiss just below your jaw. “You love it.”
You do.
You really, really do.
***
Later, you’re curled up on the sofa, legs over his lap, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your ankle. The TV’s on, some mindless movie you’re not watching. You’re both too tired to talk, but not tired enough to stop touching.
Max breaks the silence. “They think I’ve changed.”
You glance at him. “Who?”
“The team. Everyone. They look at me like I’ve become someone else.”
You shift, sit up slightly. “Because you hugged me in the garage?”
“Because I let them see it.”
You frown. “Do you regret that?”
Max turns his head to you, slow and deliberate. “Never.”
Then, quieter, “I just didn’t expect how much it would shake them.”
You study his face. There’s a war behind his eyes — one part him still battling the image he built, the other part desperate to tear it all down for you.
“You’ve always been soft with me,” you say. “They’re just catching up.”
He exhales, long and tired. “They’re going to ask questions.”
“Let them.”
“You know I don’t care about the noise,” he says. “But I care about you.”
You nod, moving closer until your forehead rests against his. “You make me feel safe.”
“I want to.”
“You do.”
He closes his eyes, breathes you in. “Then I don’t give a damn what they think.”
You smile. “There’s the Max I know.”
***
You fall asleep that night in his t-shirt, tucked into his side, his hand splayed across your hip like he’s making sure you don’t drift too far.
The last thing you hear before sleep claims you is his voice, soft and certain in the dark.
“You’ve always been mine.”
And you don’t say it out loud — but you know it, too.
***
Dinner in Monaco is supposed to be discreet.
But nothing about Max Verstappen sitting at a corner table with you — his arm stretched lazily along the back of your chair, his thumb tracing absent circles into your shoulder — feels subtle.
Not to Lando, at least.
He spots you from across the restaurant. He’s walking in with a few friends, half-distracted, arguing about who’s paying the bill when he stops mid-sentence.
“Wait, no fucking way.”
Oscar glances at him. “What?”
Lando squints.
“No way.”
At first he sees just Max. Max in a black linen shirt, sleeves pushed up, hair tousled like he’d showered and walked straight here without looking in the mirror once. Relaxed. Like he’s not the reigning world champion with the weight of four back-to-back seasons on his shoulders.
But then he sees you.
You’re laughing.
Not polite chuckle laughing. Full body, shoulders-shaking laughing. One hand over your mouth, the other pressed to Max’s forearm like it’s the only thing anchoring you to the present.
And Max-
Max is smiling. Not grinning like he does after a fastest lap. Not smirking like he does when he overtakes someone into Turn 1. Smiling. Wide, open, boyish. Like it’s just the two of you and the rest of the world can fuck off.
“Mate,” Lando whispers, stunned. “He’s pouring her wine.”
Oscar follows his gaze. “Holy shit.”
Max tilts the bottle just right, careful not to spill a drop, and doesn’t even blink when you steal a sip from his instead. He lets you do it. Like it’s happened a thousand times. Like it’s yours anyway.
Lando keeps staring.
“Are they-”
“Looks like.”
“When did-”
Oscar shrugs. “You’ve known him for a while, haven’t you?”
“Yeah, I-” Lando shakes his head. “I just didn’t think …”
He trails off, watching Max lean over to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. Not hurried. Not performative. Just gentle.
Max, being gentle.
“I’ve gotta say something,” Lando mutters.
Oscar blinks. “Why?”
“Because if I don’t, I’ll explode.”
And before Oscar can stop him, Lando peels off from the group and makes a beeline for your table.
***
You’re still laughing when you feel the shadow loom over the table.
“Now this is a sight I never thought I’d see,” Lando says, hands in his pockets like he’s wandered into a museum exhibit.
Max doesn’t even flinch. “Hi, Lando.”
You look up, grinning. “Hey.”
Lando stares between you both like he’s waiting for someone to yell Gotcha!
“You’re smiling,” he says to Max, incredulous.
Max raises an eyebrow. “And?”
“And you’re touching her. In public.”
“She’s mine,” Max says easily. “Why wouldn’t I touch her?”
Lando sits himself down at the edge of your table without asking. “No, see, this is wild. You’re smiling. You’re pouring her wine. You just-” He points at Max. “You tucked her hair. You tucked her hair.”
“Are you having a stroke?” You ask, fighting another laugh.
“Don’t play it cool,” Lando says. “This is monumental. I’ve known this guy for years. He barely makes eye contact with me, and now he’s feeding you olives.”
Max calmly pops one into your mouth. You chew it slowly, grinning.
Lando’s jaw drops. “That. That. Right there.”
“Glad you stopped by,” Max says dryly.
“You like him like this?” Lando asks you, scandalized.
“I love him like this,” you say, just to watch Lando’s face implode.
Max smirks, proud. “Careful. You’re going to choke on your disbelief.”
Lando leans back in the chair, still staring like he’s just discovered aliens live in Monaco and go by the name Verstappen.
“When did this happen?”
You glance at Max. “Depends. Do you want the karting story? The vacation story? The letters? The part where my dad called it before I even hit puberty?”
Lando blinks. “Letters?”
“She wrote me letters for two years,” Max says, like it’s common knowledge.
“I-” Lando stutters. “What? You wrote him letters?”
“Every week,” you say.
“She was in Switzerland. I was doing F3,” Max adds.
“And you kept them?”
Max’s voice softens. “Of course.”
Lando looks like he might cry. “I thought you were a robot.”
“He’s not,” you say. “He’s just careful.”
Max shrugs. “She knows me. That’s all.”
A beat of quiet falls over the table, warm and strange. Lando frowns down at the half-eaten bread basket like it’s going to offer some kind of emotional clarity.
Then-
“Wait. Does Jos know?”
“Of course he knows,” Max says.
Lando laughs. “Oh, God. I bet he flipped. He hates when anyone distracts you.”
You sip your wine.
“Jos adores her,” Max says.
And as if summoned by prophecy, Jos fucking Verstappen walks into the restaurant.
Lando nearly knocks his glass over. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Jos spots you first. He nods once at Max, then walks over to the table with all the urgency of a man browsing a farmer’s market.
“Y/N,” he says, and then he leans in and kisses you on the cheek.
Lando drops his fork.
“Hi, Uncle Jos,” you say, smiling.
“Good to see you,” Jos replies, warm and surprisingly soft. He looks at Max, gives him a firm nod. “She settling in?”
“Perfectly,” Max replies.
Jos claps him on the shoulder once — approval, affection, something else unspoken — then disappears toward the bar.
Lando stares after him like he’s just seen a ghost.
“Since when does Jos smile?” He hisses.
Max smirks, takes a slow sip of wine. “Since forever,” he says, “with her.”
***
After dinner, Max laces his fingers through yours as you walk along the quiet Monaco street. The ocean glimmers to your left. The lights are low, golden. Your heels click softly against the cobblestones.
“You okay?” He asks.
You glance up. “More than.”
“Sorry about Lando. He means well.”
You smile. “It was kind of funny.”
He chuckles, squeezes your hand. “I meant what I said, you know.”
“Which part?”
“All of it.”
You stop walking, tug him gently so he turns to face you. “Even the part where I’m yours?”
His voice is low. Serious.
“Especially that part.”
You lean in, forehead against his. “Then you’re mine, too.”
“Always have been.”
The city hums around you. Somewhere, someone laughs. A boat horn echoes softly in the harbor.
And Max kisses you like he’s never known anything else.
***
It starts, as most things do in the Red Bull motorhome, with Yuki Tsunoda standing in the wrong place at the wrong time.
He’s hunting for snacks — something chocolate-adjacent and preferably smuggled from catering. He’s halfway through opening a cupboard when he hears voices coming from the other side of the thin wall that separates the corridor from Helmut’s little meeting nook.
One voice is unmistakable. Gravel and grumble and full of slow-burning nostalgia.
Jos Verstappen.
Yuki stills.
“I said thirteen,” Jos says. “Michael said sixteen.”
There’s a beat of silence, the sound of a spoon clinking gently against ceramic. Helmut, Yuki guesses, is stirring his sixth espresso of the morning. Probably about to scoff at whatever nonsense Jos is peddling.
But Jos goes on. “We had a bet.”
Yuki blinks. A bet?
“On Max and Y/N?” Helmut sounds surprised. “You’re telling me that’s been going on since-”
Jos chuckles, low and fond. “You weren’t there. You didn’t see them.”
There’s a pause. “I said they’d kiss first at thirteen. Michael said they’d get secretly engaged at sixteen.”
Yuki’s jaw drops. He forgets the cupboard, forgets the snack, forgets why he’s even standing there. He presses his ear closer to the thin wall.
“What actually happened?” Helmut asks.
Jos laughs. Really laughs. Not the bitter kind — the real kind. The kind that sounds like it’s been waiting years to escape.
“Turns out,” he says, “Max gave her a ring pop when they were ten and called it a promise.”
There’s the scrape of a chair being pushed back. Jos again. “He said — and I swear, Helmut, I swear — he said, ‘It’s not real, but I’ll make it real later.’”
Helmut mutters something in disbelief, but Yuki’s not listening anymore.
Ten.
Ten years old.
***
It’s impossible to unhear.
That’s what Yuki decides an hour later, legs bouncing under the table in the drivers’ debrief while Max sits across from him looking utterly, maddeningly normal.
Except … not.
Max is focused, sure. He’s got the data sheet in one hand, telemetry open on his tablet, and he’s nodding at something the engineer says. But his foot taps. His eyes flick, just once, toward the clock on the wall.
And then, suddenly, he shifts forward, cuts the meeting off mid-sentence.
“Give me five.”
The room stills.
The engineer frowns. “You want-”
“Five minutes.”
“No, of course, just, uh, okay?”
Max’s phone is already in his hand. He’s out the door before anyone can question it.
Yuki waits a beat, then rises too. He murmurs something about needing the loo and slips out after him, ducking into the corridor just in time to see Max rounding the corner toward the hospitality suite.
He slows when he hears the door open, then Max’s voice — low, quiet, more intimate than Yuki’s ever heard.
“Hey. Did you eat?”
There’s a pause. Yuki’s heart thumps. He knows it’s you on the other side.
“Max,” you say, fond and exasperated. “I’m fine.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“I had a bar earlier. And a banana.”
“A banana,” Max repeats like it’s an insult to your entire bloodline.
“I’m working.”
“I’ll bring you something.”
“You don’t have to-”
“I want to.”
Another pause. Then your voice, softer. “You’re supposed to be in the debrief.”
“I’m supposed to make sure you’re okay.”
Yuki has to slap a hand over his own mouth to keep from reacting out loud.
Max’s voice again, lighter now: “Did you drink water?”
“You are such a-”
“Did. You. Drink.”
You sigh. “Yes. I drank water.”
There’s a smile in Max’s reply. “Good girl.”
Yuki practically blacks out.
***
When Max returns to the meeting five minutes later with an unopened granola bar still in his hand, nobody says a word. Nobody dares.
Except Yuki.
He waits until they’re in the sim lounge, just the two of them, while Max’s seat is being adjusted and the engineers are fiddling with telemetry in the back.
Then, “So … ring pop?”
Max freezes. Just for a second. Then he shoots Yuki a look.
“Where did you hear that?”
Yuki grins. “Jos and Helmut. Thin walls.”
Max sighs, shakes his head, but he doesn’t deny it.
“She still has it,” he mutters.
“No way.”
“In a box.”
“Oh my God, Max.”
Max shrugs. “It wasn’t for anyone else.”
Yuki leans back, grinning like it’s Christmas morning. “You were in love at ten.”
Max just smiles. “Yeah. And I still am.”
***
Later that afternoon, you wander into the garage between meetings, one hand in your pocket, the other rubbing a spot at the base of your neck where stress always seems to collect. Max finds you before you even reach catering.
He always does.
“You didn’t finish your bar,” he says, holding up the wrapper like it’s damning evidence in a courtroom.
You give him a look. “You checked?”
“I check everything.”
He moves closer, smooths a wrinkle from your shirt with one hand, then slips the other to the small of your back. His touch is warm. Steady. His body shields you automatically from the chaos behind you — people moving, talking, planning — but all you feel is him.
“I had coffee,” you offer.
“Not food.”
“Coffee is made of beans.”
“Y/N.”
You laugh. “Okay. I’ll eat. Just don’t tell Yuki I’m stealing his instant ramen.”
Max smirks. “About that …”
You narrow your eyes. “What did you do?”
“Nothing. He just overheard something.”
“Max.”
He kisses your temple. “It’s fine.”
“Define fine.”
“He found out about the ring pop.”
Your mouth drops open. “You told him?”
“Jos told Helmut. Yuki eavesdropped.”
“Oh my God.”
Max shrugs. “I gave you my first promise. And I’m keeping it.”
You fall quiet, heart doing somersaults in your chest. You’re suddenly ten again, sticky-fingered and sun-drenched, holding a cherry-flavored ring pop while Max grinned at you like he’d just won Le Mans.
You reach for his hand now, fingers threading through his.
“You have kept it.”
He nods, solemn. “Every day.”
***
Jos watches from the hallway, arms folded, expression unreadable.
Yuki sidles up next to him.
“They’re pretty intense,” Yuki mutters.
Jos glances at him.
“She’s the only person he ever listens to,” he says.
Then he smiles.
Again.
Yuki shakes his head. “Unreal.”
***
The Red Bull garage is silent in that way only disaster can command.
Not the loud kind of disaster. Not the chaos of spinning tires or radio static or desperate engineers shouting into headsets. No, this is worse. This is the silence that comes when the pit wall realizes, together, that the lap isn’t going to finish. That the car isn’t going to limp back. That there’s only carbon fiber confetti, blinking yellow flags, and a flickering onboard camera showing Max Verstappen’s helmet motionless in the cockpit, framed by smoke and gravel.
He’s not moving.
“Red flag. Red flag. That’s Max in the wall.”
GP’s voice crackles through the comms, tight with alarm.
“Talk to me, Max.”
Nothing.
Then-
“I’m fine.”
The radio comes alive again. Gritted teeth, labored breath.
“Fucking understeer. Car didn’t turn. I said it didn’t feel right this morning.”
You’re in the garage, watching on a monitor, a pen stilled in your hand and a racing heart thudding in your throat. The medical car is already on its way.
***
The medical center smells like antiseptic and tension.
He’s on the bed when you get there. Suit unzipped to his waist, skin smudged with gravel dust and the beginnings of bruises.
And he’s angry.
“I’m not doing a scan,” he snaps, tugging at the strap of his HANS device like it personally betrayed him. “I’m fine.”
“Max,” the doctor says with all the patience of someone who’s dealt with world champions before, “you hit the wall at a hundred and seventy. We’re doing a scan.”
“I said I’m fine-”
“Max.”
Your voice.
Quiet. Steady. Unmistakable.
He turns. The fury in his shoulders drains almost instantly.
“Schatje.”
You cross to him, not rushing — because if you rush, he’ll think you’re panicked. And if you’re panicked, he’ll dig his heels in deeper.
You cup his jaw gently, running your thumb across the spot just beneath his cheekbone. His eyes flutter closed for a second. He exhales, jaw loosening.
“Let them do the scan,” you say softly.
“I don’t want-”
“It’s not about what you want right now.”
He sighs. Mutinous. “I hate this part.”
“I know you do.” You nod, brushing sweat-matted hair from his forehead. “But I need to know you’re okay. I need the scans.”
He opens his eyes again, searching yours.
“Just a formality,” you whisper. “You’ll be out in twenty minutes.”
He hesitates. Then finally, “Okay.”
You turn to the doctor. “Go ahead.”
The doctor blinks at you like he’s watching a unicorn read a bedtime story to a lion.
Max doesn’t argue again.
GP, standing just behind the exam curtain, looks like he’s aged five years in twenty minutes. He leans toward you when Max disappears into the back for imaging.
“That was witchcraft.”
You shrug. “It’s just Max.”
“No,” GP says. “That was magic. He looked like he was about to throw a monitor at me.”
“He wouldn’t have.”
“He would’ve thrown it at me,” the doctor chimes in, still stunned. “And now he’s apologizing to the nurse. Who are you?”
You smile softly. “Just someone who knows how to talk to him.”
***
Jos arrives fifteen minutes later, face stormy and footsteps sharp. The room collectively inhales.
You’re seated in a plastic chair, eyes on the monitor that shows Max’s scan progress. You don’t turn around when Jos enters. You don’t have to.
He stops just behind you.
“Is he hurt?” He asks.
“Not seriously,” you answer. “But they need to check for microfractures. The impact was sharp on the right side.”
Jos is quiet for a long moment. Then his hand, heavy and warm, settles on your shoulder.
“You got him to agree to scans?”
You nod. “He was being Max.”
“That sounds right.”
GP, standing by the sink with a paper cup, watches the moment unfold like he’s witnessing history.
Jos Verstappen. Smiling.
Max reappears ten minutes later, changed into clean Red Bull kit, hair still damp from a quick shower.
You rise. “All clear?”
“Yeah.” He moves straight into your arms. “Just bruised.”
You press a kiss to his shoulder. “I told you it was fine.”
Max turns to Jos. “Hey.”
Jos scans him up and down, then nods once. “Could’ve been worse.”
Max shrugs. “Could’ve been better, too.”
“You’ll get it tomorrow.”
Max tilts his head. “That’s optimistic for you.”
Jos’s hand is still on your shoulder. “She makes us all softer, apparently.”
Everyone in the room hears it.
GP actually drops his cup.
**
Back in the garage later, Max sits on a folding chair while you rewrap the compression band on his wrist.
“It’s not tight, is it?”
“No.”
“You’ll tell me if it is?”
“Of course.” He smirks. “You’ll know before I say it anyway.”
You smile. “True.”
Max glances around the garage. “They’re all looking.”
You nod. “Let them.”
“I don’t care.”
“I know.”
He takes your hand in his. “Thanks for earlier.”
“You were being impossible.”
“You love it.”
You grin. “I do.”
***
Outside, the paddock buzzes with gossip.
Inside, you kneel in front of him, fingers moving expertly over tape and skin. And Max looks down at you like he did when he was ten years old with cherry candy on his finger, asking you to keep a promise he hadn’t yet learned how to name.
And still, somehow, keeping it anyway.
***
Max is late.
Which isn’t unusual — especially not after a race weekend, not when media has clawed its way through his post-crash interviews like blood in the water. He told you he’d try to be back by seven, but it’s pushing eight-thirty, and the pasta you made sits cold on the counter while you curl up on the couch in one of his hoodies, a blanket around your shoulders and a book cracked open across your knees.
The apartment smells like rosemary and garlic and something so distinctly him that it makes your chest hurt. You should be used to this place by now — your name on the buzzer, your shoes by the door, your shampoo next to his in the shower — but some days it still feels like walking around in someone else’s dream.
The book is old. Max’s, clearly. Worn at the spine and dog-eared in ways that suggest he’s either read it a thousand times or used it to prop up furniture. You only picked it up to pass the time. You weren’t expecting it to feel like a trapdoor.
You weren’t expecting the letter.
It slips out from between two pages around chapter eleven, delicate and yellowed and folded into a square so neat it feels like it was handled by trembling hands. Which, you realize instantly, it probably was.
Your name is written on the front in Max’s handwriting.
But it’s Max’s handwriting from before.
When he still dotted his Is with a slight curve, when his Ts slanted just a little to the left, when his signature hadn’t hardened into something that looked more like a logo.
Your breath catches. You unfold it slowly.
And read.
March 5th, 2014
Y/N,
I don’t know what to say to you, so I’m writing this instead. Everyone’s talking, but no one is saying anything real. I hate it. I hate seeing the photos. I hate hearing my dad whisper when he thinks I’m not listening. I hate that I wasn’t skiing with you in France. I should have been.
You shouldn’t have had to go through that alone.
You’ve always been braver than me. I don’t think I ever said that out loud, but it’s true. Even when we were kids and you crashed in Italy and your leg was bleeding and you didn’t cry — I almost did. I think I loved you even then.
I don’t know if you’ll come back to racing. I don’t know if I’ll see you in the paddock again. But if you do when you do I hope you come sit in my garage. Right in front of me. I hope I can look up and see you, just like before.
Because I drive better when you’re there. I always have.
Your Max
***
By the time you finish reading, you’re crying. Quietly. The kind of tears that don’t shake your shoulders, that don’t come with heaving sobs or gasps for breath — just the steady, unstoppable kind. The kind you didn’t know you were holding back.
The kind that were never just about the letter.
***
Max finds you like that.
The apartment door opens with its usual soft click, followed by the sound of keys in the dish and shoes kicked off against the wall. He calls out, “Schatje?” the way he always does.
When you don’t answer, he moves through the hallway, brow furrowed.
And then he sees you. Still on the couch. Eyes red. Shoulders small.
“Hey-”
He crosses to you instantly, crouching down so you’re face to face.
“What happened?” He asks, voice gentle, hands finding your knees. “What is it?”
You don’t speak. Not right away. You just reach for the folded piece of paper on the coffee table. Place it in his hand.
He looks down. Sees it. Recognizes it.
His eyes widen — then narrow. Carefully, he unfolds it.
You watch his throat work through a swallow as he reads.
Then he looks back at you.
“You found this?”
You nod. “It was in the book.”
He exhales. Drops the letter into his lap and reaches for your face, brushing your tears away with his thumb. His touch is featherlight. Reverent.
“You kept it,” you whisper.
“Of course I did.”
“I didn’t know-”
“I didn’t write it to give it to you.” Max’s voice is quiet. “I wrote it because I didn’t know how else to talk to you. You were gone. Everyone kept telling me to stay focused, to push through. But I missed you so much it made my chest hurt. I didn’t know if you’d ever come back.”
You press your forehead against his, and he leans into it like gravity is pulling him there.
“You never left me,” he murmurs. “Even when you did.”
Your breath hitches.
“I used to look at the garage before a race and pretend you were there. I’d pick a spot and tell myself, she’s sitting right there. She’s watching. Make it count.”
You sniff, choking on a watery laugh. “That’s why you got better?”
He smiles softly. “That’s why I survived.”
A pause. Then-
“I thought you might hate racing after … everything.”
You shake your head. “No. I hated losing it. I hated what it became without him. Without you.”
He shifts beside you, pulling you gently into his lap. You curl into him without hesitation, your cheek pressed against his collarbone, his hand sliding up your back and resting there, like it always does.
“I was scared,” you admit. “To come back. Not just to the paddock. To you.”
Max doesn’t flinch. He waits. Lets you speak.
“I knew if I saw you again, I wouldn’t be able to pretend we were just kids anymore. And that scared the hell out of me.”
“Why?”
“Because I never stopped loving you. Not for a second. And I didn’t know what that would mean.”
He kisses your temple. “It means you were always mine. Even when you didn’t know it yet.”
You shift to face him again. “Did you really mean it?”
“The letter?”
“Yeah.”
He holds your gaze, unwavering.
“I still mean it.”
You smile. “I sit in your garage now.”
“And I drive like I used to.”
“No,” you whisper. “You drive better.”
He grins. “Because you’re here.”
“Because I’m home.”
***
Later, much later, when the dishes are cleaned and your tears have dried, he pulls you into bed and tucks the letter between the pages of the book again.
“I want it close,” he says.
You trace the edge of his jaw. “Me too.”
Then he pulls you to his chest, your head against his heartbeat, and whispers against your hair:
“Promise me you’ll never leave again.”
You lift your chin. “Promise me you’ll always write me letters.”
He smiles.
“Deal.”
***
You don’t notice it right away.
The photo.
You’re sitting on Max’s couch, legs tangled with his, a shared blanket draped over both your laps, when your phone starts vibrating on the table.
Once.
Twice.
Then nonstop.
Max lifts his head from where it rests against your shoulder, brow furrowed. “That your phone?”
You reach over to check it, already expecting a handful of texts from your mother or maybe Mick with some new meme. But it’s not that.
It’s dozens — no, hundreds — of messages, pinging in rapid-fire succession from people you haven’t spoken to in years. Old classmates. Distant cousins. PR reps. Journalists. Even Nico Rosberg, who once jokingly told you he’d know before the internet if anything happened between you and Max, has sent you a simple message:
So … it’s out.
Your stomach twists.
“Y/N?” Max asks again. He’s sitting up now.
You click one of the links. It takes you to a Twitter post — already at 127,000 likes in under twenty minutes.
A photo.
Of you.
And Max.
It’s clearly taken the night after the race, when you and Max walked along the water after dinner, just the two of you, winding down through the dimmed cobblestone streets where no one was supposed to notice.
He’s standing behind you, arms wrapped around your middle. His face is tucked into your shoulder, eyes closed, and your hands rest on his forearms. There’s a soft smile on your face. The kind of moment that wasn’t meant to be seen. Quiet. Intimate. Entirely yours.
It’s not yours anymore.
The caption: IS THIS MAX VERSTAPPEN’S MYSTERY GIRLFRIEND?
Max takes the phone from your hand before you can process much more. He stares at the screen, expression unreadable.
You murmur, “Max …“
He doesn’t speak.
You’re already scanning through the quote tweets and reposts, the chaos unraveling fast.
Whoever she is, he’s IN LOVE.
That’s not just a fling. Look at the way he’s holding her.
His face in her shoulder? Oh this is serious.
Wait. Wait. Wait. IS THAT Y/N SCHUMACHER?
Your heart hammers in your chest. You feel stripped bare.
“I’m so sorry,” you whisper. “Someone must’ve followed us.”
Max shakes his head slowly, jaw clenched. “Doesn’t matter.” He turns the phone over, screen down.
“Max …“
“I don’t care. I don’t give a shit who sees it. I’m just pissed they took it without asking.”
You hesitate. “It’s everywhere.”
He meets your eyes. His gaze is clear. “Then let it be everywhere.”
***
You think that might be the end of it. Just one photo, one viral tweet.
But you underestimate the sheer velocity of Formula 1 gossip.
By the time the sun rises, the image is on every motorsport news outlet. Paparazzi camp outside your apartment building. Journalists send emails with subject lines like “Verstappen’s Secret Girlfriend: A Deep Dive” and “Schumacher Family Ties: Romance in the Paddock?”
Christian texts you. Let us handle it. Don’t say anything. Max will be briefed before press.
You reply. I’m sorry.
His response comes a second later. Don’t be. He looks happier than I’ve ever seen him.
You almost cry again.
***
But nothing — and you mean nothing — could have prepared you for Jos.
You’re sitting in the Red Bull motorhome the following weekend when Yuki bursts in with his phone held up like a holy relic. He’s breathless, half-laughing, half-screaming.
“Oh my God. Oh my God. You guys. Look. Look.”
“What?” Max asks, bemused, glancing up from his telemetry notes.
Yuki throws his phone on the table. “Your dad.” He’s pointing at Max.
Max raises a brow. “What about him?”
“HE COMMENTED. PUBLICLY.”
You frown, inching closer to see.
The photo’s been reposted on Instagram by a gossip account. The caption is asking for confirmation. A sea of users is speculating. Arguing. Debating theories. And right there, in the middle of it all, under his verified name:
@josverstappen7 About time.
There’s a moment of pure, undiluted silence.
Then-
Max snorts. Actually snorts.
You blink. “He what?”
“He’s never commented on anything in his life,” Yuki gasps. “That man barely smiles.”
Max looks a little stunned. Then a slow, crooked grin stretches across his face.
“He likes you,” he says, quiet and proud.
You blink. “He’s always liked me.”
“Yeah, but now the world knows it.”
***
The paddock can’t stop buzzing. It’s not just that Max Verstappen has a girlfriend — it’s who she is. The daughter of Michael Schumacher. The girl who practically grew up beside him. The one everyone assumed had vanished from the scene. The one no one dared to ask about.
Even Helmut gives you a brief nod of approval in the hallway.
But it’s not over. Of course it’s not. There’s still the press conference.
***
You’re not there when it happens — you’re finishing up a private session with a Red Bull junior driver who nearly fainted during sim training — but you hear about it immediately.
The moment.
The question.
The quote that breaks the internet again.
Max is calm, cool as always in the hot seat. Wearing his usual navy polo, fingers tapping the table rhythmically while the journalists volley back and forth about tire strategy and engine upgrades.
And then-
A Sky Sports reporter leans in, trying to be clever.
“So, Max,” he says, “the internet’s in a frenzy over a certain photo from Monaco. You’ve been quiet about your personal life for years, but … care to confirm?”
There’s laughter from the room. A few mutters. Even Lewis shifts in his seat to glance over.
Max doesn’t bristle. He doesn’t scoff.
He just tilts his head slightly, expression softening.
“She’s not new.”
A pause.
“She’s always been there.”
***
When you see the clip, it hits you like a wave.
You watch it alone, in the empty Red Bull lounge, curled into one of the oversized chairs with your laptop on your knees and your heart in your throat.
The way he says it — without fanfare, without nerves — makes you ache.
He doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t evade.
He just tells the truth.
Like it’s the easiest thing in the world.
***
You don’t have to wait long before he finds you.
He walks in still wearing his lanyard and sunglasses, head slightly tilted.
“You saw it?”
You look up from the laptop and nod. “You really said that?”
“I meant it.”
“I know,” you whisper.
He sits beside you, pulls you into his lap without hesitation, arms snug around your waist.
“They’ll keep asking,” you murmur.
“Let them.”
You smile softly. “You’re not worried?”
“About what? Loving you in public?” He shrugs. “I’ve loved you in private since I was ten. I can do both.”
You press your forehead to his.
“They’re going to write stories.”
“Then I hope they write this part down.” He kisses you, slow and steady, like punctuation.
***
On your way out of the motorhome, your phone buzzes again. This time it’s a text from your brother.
Tell Max if he hurts you, I’ll find a way back to F1 just so I can crash into him on lap one.
You laugh. Max, peeking over your shoulder, rolls his eyes.
“I like Mick,” he says, deadpan.
You grin. “Then be nice to me.”
“I’m nice to you every morning.”
You bump his hip. “You’re also mean to me every morning.”
“That’s foreplay.”
You laugh. Out loud. Bright and sudden.
And this time, you don’t care who hears it.
***
The drive is quiet.
Not tense, not awkward, just quiet. The kind of silence that lives in the space between heartbeats, between memories that never stopped aching. The kind of quiet that comes with going home.
Your fingers are looped with Max’s across the center console, neither of you speaking. You’re an hour outside Geneva, climbing into the familiar, secluded hills that line the lake. The roads are winding, shaded, and Max handles them like second nature — like he’s driven this route in dreams a hundred times before.
He probably has.
You definitely have.
You haven’t brought anyone back here in years.
Not since the accident. Not since everything changed.
But Max isn’t just anyone. He never was.
“I’m nervous,” you say softly.
“I know,” he replies, eyes still fixed on the road.
You twist the hem of your sweater. “It’s not that I’m worried about him meeting you. It’s just … it’s different now. You remember.”
“I remember everything.”
You glance over at him. “Do you?”
Max finally turns to you, just briefly, but long enough for you to see the honesty in his expression. “He used to tell me I wasn’t allowed to marry you unless I learned how to heel-toe downshift.”
A small, watery laugh escapes your lips.
He squeezes your hand. “I got good at it. Just for him.”
You blink hard. “I just want him to know.”
“He knows.”
“Max-”
“He always knew.”
***
The estate hasn’t changed much.
The front gate still creaks a little. The garden still bursts with the same wild lavender and pale roses that your mother always insisted were Michael’s favorite, even though he could never name a single one correctly. The driveway curves the same way, gravel crunching under tires as Max eases the car into park.
You hesitate before getting out.
He doesn’t rush you.
Instead, Max leans over, presses his lips to your temple, and whispers, “Take your time. I’ve got you.”
You nod, even though nothing about your chest feels steady.
***
Your mother meets you at the door.
She pulls you into a hug instantly — tight, wordless, and lingering longer than usual.
Then she reaches for Max, and to your surprise, she hugs him too.
He hugs back.
“I’m glad you’re here,” she says softly.
Max only nods.
She turns toward you. “He’s in the garden.”
***
You lead Max through the long corridor, past the living room where your father once danced around in his socks to ABBA to make you laugh. Past the kitchen table where Max, age fourteen, carved your initials into the wood with a butter knife when he thought no one was watching. (You never told anyone. You ran your fingers over it for years.)
The sliding glass doors to the garden open slowly. The breeze hits first — cool, gentle, still carrying hints of mountain pine.
And then, you see him.
He’s sitting under the willow tree, just like always, his wheelchair angled slightly toward the sun. There’s a blanket draped across his knees, and a small radio plays softly on the stone table beside him — some old German song you half-remember from childhood.
His eyes are open. Alert.
Your breath catches.
Max is silent beside you.
You step forward first.
“Hi, Papa.”
His eyes flick to yours.
Your voice breaks immediately. “I brought someone.”
Max takes a slow step closer.
Michael’s gaze moves to him.
There’s no flicker of surprise. No confusion. No question.
Just … calm recognition.
As if he knew you were coming all along.
“Hi, Michael,” Max says, voice low, steady. “It’s been a while.”
There’s no response. But Michael blinks, slowly, and Max takes it like a nod.
You kneel beside the chair. Take one of your father’s hands in both of yours. “You look good today.”
He doesn’t answer. He hasn’t, in years — not in full sentences. Sometimes a sound. A shift of the eyes. But it’s not the voice you grew up with. Not the laugh that echoed across karting paddocks. Not the firm, confident tone that once told Max he was going to win eight titles just to piss him off.
But his hands are warm.
You press your forehead to his knuckles, eyes closed.
“I missed you.”
Max kneels beside you.
He doesn’t say much at first.
Just lets his hand fall gently on your back.
Then, in a voice softer than you’ve ever heard from him, he says, “You were right.”
There’s a pause.
“You told me once that I’d marry her someday.” His thumb brushes a slow, grounding line along your spine. “I used to think you were joking. I was nine. I didn’t even know how to talk to her properly.”
You let out a breath that trembles.
Max continues, “But you saw it before we did. You knew.”
Michael’s eyes shift again. Toward Max. Then to you.
Still no words.
But something passes between the three of you. A ripple. A current. The invisible thread that’s always been there.
You blink hard, but tears fall anyway.
“I wanted to tell you before anyone else,” Max adds. “We didn’t mean to make it public. But now that it is — I wanted you to know.”
You choke on a sob.
Max moves instantly, both arms around you, pulling you into his chest.
You don’t resist.
You bury yourself into him, the tears shaking through your body, your grip fisting the back of his shirt like you’re afraid to let go.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper, over and over. “I’m sorry I waited so long to bring him.”
He strokes your hair. “You brought me now.”
“He doesn’t even …“
“He knows,” Max says again. “He knows.”
You look up at him, eyes red, cheeks damp.
And he says it, not for the first time, but with a weight that anchors you to the earth:
“I love you.”
Your voice cracks. “I love you too.”
Michael’s hand twitches.
You freeze.
Then, slowly — almost imperceptibly — his fingers curl around yours.
Max sees it too.
His voice breaks a little. “Thank you, Michael.”
***
You stay in the garden for hours.
Max pulls an extra chair over and doesn’t complain when your head falls against his shoulder. He lets you speak. Lets you cry. At one point, your mother brings out coffee. He thanks her in gentle German. She smooths your hair down like you’re six years old again and then kisses your father’s forehead with practiced tenderness.
Michael watches everything. Quietly. Distant but present.
You catch Max whispering something under his breath at one point, leaning just slightly closer to your father.
You don’t ask what he said.
Later, as the sun dips low over the lake and the shadows stretch long across the grass, Michael’s eyes start to close. His breathing slows.
You press a final kiss to his cheek.
Max pushes your hair behind your ear, kisses your temple.
The way he carries your grief — without fear, without pressure — makes something in your heart crack open.
“I wasn’t ready,” you whisper in the hallway later.
“I know.”
“But I’m glad we came.”
“I am too.”
You pause.
“Max?”
“Yeah?”
“Did you ever — when we were kids — imagine this?”
He looks at you for a long moment. Then he smiles.
“You were all I ever imagined.”
***
Victoria doesn’t knock.
She never has. She has a key, the code, and more importantly, Max has always told her, “Just come in. You don’t need permission.”
But today something feels different the moment she steps through the door.
It smells like vanilla and something warm and sweet. There’s music, soft and low, playing from the kitchen. Stevie Wonder, maybe? She toes off her shoes, sets her weekend bag down by the stairs, and follows the faint scent of pancakes.
And then stops dead in the hallway.
Because Max is leaning against the kitchen counter, arms slung loosely around someone else’s waist. And that someone is barefoot, in one of his old Red Bull t-shirts that hangs to mid-thigh, hair tied in a messy knot, flipping pancakes with an ease that can only come from familiarity.
She recognizes you instantly.
As the girl Max would talk about when he was sixteen and swearing up and down he didn’t believe in love. As the girl who used to show up on the pit wall and make her brother forget to breathe. As the one name he never said bitterly.
The one girl he never had to get over, because he never stopped waiting for her.
You.
Y/N Schumacher.
And Max is kissing your temple like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Whispering something low and private, like he’s done it a thousand times before. You laugh — really laugh — and Max’s hand slips beneath the hem of the shirt like it’s instinctive, fingers resting warm against your hip.
Victoria blinks.
Not because it’s jarring, but because it’s not.
Because it looks like he’s home.
She clears her throat, and Max turns his head lazily over his shoulder.
“Hey, Vic.”
You turn too, startled, spatula still in hand.
“Oh! Hi, sorry, I didn’t know you were coming today. I would’ve-”
“She’s here,” Max says to you, then to Victoria, “You’re early.”
“I didn’t know I had to schedule a slot now,” she teases.
Max rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling.
Victoria steps fully into the kitchen, scanning the countertop cluttered with batter, coffee mugs, and fresh strawberries.
“This is … surreal,” she murmurs, setting her sunglasses down.
“What is?” Max asks, biting into a strawberry you just sliced.
You swat at him. “That was for the topping.”
He grins. “I have training later, I need carbs.”
Victoria watches all of this with quiet fascination.
Max is … soft.
Not weak. Never that.
But soft. Like velvet over steel. Like he’s stopped fighting air and finally has something solid to hold onto. Like the sharp edges of his world have finally rounded into something resembling peace.
She pulls out a stool at the counter.
“Okay, I need to hear everything,” she announces, folding her arms. “How long has this been going on? When were you planning on telling your favorite sister?”
Max reaches for a mug. “Technically, I told you when I was nine.”
You blink. “You what?”
Victoria smirks. “You what?”
Max shrugs, pouring coffee. “Told her I was gonna marry you. At dinner. After karting in Genk. You had that sparkly lip gloss and made me crash into a barrier.”
“Oh my god,” you say, half-laughing, face warm. “That wasn’t even — Max, you were such a menace back then.”
He leans in, voice low. “Still am.”
You swat at him again, cheeks flushed.
Victoria watches with something like awe.
“I knew it,” she says softly. “I knew when I saw you with her at Spa. You stood differently.”
“I did not,” Max replies, sliding a pancake onto a plate.
“You did. Like the noise stopped.”
He doesn’t argue.
You glance at him, puzzled.
Victoria turns to you. “You calm him. I don’t think he even realizes how much.”
“I do,” Max says immediately, gaze fixed on you. “I realize it every day.”
You go quiet.
He reaches for your hand and squeezes once.
Victoria sips her coffee. “So … are you living here?”
Max answers before you can. “She’s not going anywhere.”
You smile down at the pancakes. “He unpacked my boxes before I could even choose a closet.”
“I built you a desk,” Max adds.
Victoria raises a brow. “You hate assembling furniture.”
“I made GP help.”
You burst out laughing. “You yelled at the instructions.”
“They were wrong,” Max mutters.
Victoria watches you both, a soft look settling over her features.
“You’re good for him,” she says, quieter now. “He’s still Max, but … I’ve never seen him this happy. Even when he won the championship. It wasn’t like this.”
You glance at him.
Max is already looking at you.
“She’s always been it,” he says, shrugging like it’s obvious. “Even when she wasn’t here.”
You press your lips together.
He leans in again, presses another kiss to your temple.
Victoria pretends to gag. “God, you’re disgusting.”
Max smiles. “I know.”
But you notice the way he pulls you in closer. How he kisses your knuckles when you pass him the syrup. How his eyes keep coming back to you like he’s still making sure you’re real.
You’ve been through everything.
Secrets. Distance. Paparazzi. The weight of family names. The ache of watching a parent disappear in pieces.
But this?
This is the part you never thought you’d get to have.
Pancakes and Stevie Wonder and barefoot Saturdays. Max leaning against you like it’s the only place he’s meant to be. Victoria grinning across the kitchen island like she’s always known.
You hand her a plate.
“Tell me if it’s too sweet,” you say.
Max nudges your hip. “It’s perfect.”
You look up at him.
So is he.
So is this.
Can you write military!reader x f1!driver like they back from tour and surprises the driver persanely I would like to read Lando but you write with your fav driver ofc
home soil- m.verstappen
꩜summary: you surprise max with an early homecoming
꩜pairing: max verstappen x fem! sargeant! reader
꩜a/n: if there's anyone in the US military, sorry! i probs got something wrong about how it works- i'm irish so my b if i did!
Max hadn’t been looking forward to Miami. He knew the car would be shit. He knew he’d be fighting Lando on track. He knew Oscar would pass him. He knew everything in store for him, and he still had no word from you. You went off-grid 2 weeks ago. He had no idea where in the world you were. What you were doing. If you were safe. In all honesty, he hated your job. He hated being away from you for so long. He hated the amount of unknowns it came with. He hated it meant you had to stay in the US. He hated that it took him 4 months to convince you that he wanted you, and to have you believe him.
“Fuck’s sake,” he mutter under his breath as he walked into his driver’s room. He could’ve ripped the thing apart. P4 in the race. He was pushing like crazy.
“Alright?” your voice broke through every thought in his head and silenced them. You. You. Home. Safe.
He didn’t care that he was sweaty. He didn’t care that he had media duties. He wrapped his arms around you, and for the first time in weeks, he finally relaxed. “You’re here,” he whispered like it wasn’t true. You chuckled against his skin, nodding into his neck.
“And I’ll be in Imola too,” you smiled brightly as his eyes went wide, his hands cradling your face like you could break at any second. “Got my leave approved.”
“That’s brilliant, schatje!” he smiled, and pulled you in for a kiss.
Max wasn’t known for keeping his calm. He was a racer, he won, and he didn’t care how many times he got in someone’s way.
You kept your calm no matter what. Cool, calm, collected. Calm enough to pull the trigger of a gun on a person and not have it faze you. Calm enough to date an F1 driver and keep him stable. Calm enough to be here tonight, and not make it a big deal that Max Verstappen was your fiancé. You were strong too. Tough. Sure of yourself. He liked it.
That’s why he didn’t feel the need to intervene when he saw you being chatted up by some sleeze. He just smirked as the man inched closer, it was free entertainment for the night, which was always necessary at F1 events.
“I have a boyfriend,” you reminded the man who had been hounding you for the past few minutes. Fiancé, if we’re getting technical, but Max rarely did.
Charles flashed him a smirk. “Going to go over there?” he questioned.
Max shrugged. “If it gets boring,” he chuckled. “She can hold her own.”
“She’s scary,” Lando admitted. “First time I talked to her she threatened to break my arm.”
“You were flirting with her,” Alex reminded him. “I remember how pissed Logan was.”
“Oh yeah!” Oscar laughed, nudging Logan (who was beside him). “And when you found out about Max and Y/n.”
“He went ballistic,” Lando laughed. “Almost killed his sister!”
“It wasn’t that bad,” Logan defended, but even Max gave him a look. “Ok, but it is shitty to go after someone’s sister!”
The group continued laughing as Max listened back in on your conversation.
“Oh yeah?” the guy smirked. Was it Tim, or Tom? Either way, he was a dick. “I don’t see him.”
“Now you do,” Max interrupted, wrapping an arm around your waist and smiling in a polite ‘fuck off’ way. The man chuckled. He was some NFL player. “Have a good night-”
“Let the pretty lady decide for herself, thank you very much,” he smirked. You gagged.
“I chose him,” you deadpanned.
“You’re in McLaren merch,” he pointed out, flicking at the hat on your head. You felt Max stiffen beside you, you could tell he was holding himself back from a fist fight. As much as this guy deserved it, Max was no MMA fighter, and you didn’t really want to be the reason he got his shit rocked.
“Yeah, my mate drives for them,” you shrugged. “Do we have a problem here?” you demanded. “Because if we do we can talk about it.”
“No problem sweetheart, just don’t know if he understands how to be with a real woman such as yourself. I don’t see you at many races-”
“No, you don’t. Usually because I’m fighting for your fucking freedom you ungrateful asshole,” you scoffed, flashing your military ID card. The colour drained from the guy’s face and, before he could speak again Max whisked you away and back to the table with the rest of the guys. He watched as you joked and laughed with them, happy you were there in front of him. He couldn’t ask for much more. You were safe.
You were here.
navigation for my blog :)
redbull & vcarb masterlist
but daddy i love him. part two - mv1
summary: in the world of formula 1, where competition runs deep and loyalties are tested, yn wolff and max verstappen found themselves caught in the middle . as the daughter of mercedes team principal and the rising red bull star, they must navigate the balance between rivalries and love. wc:13.5k. READ PART ONE
folkie radio: HERE IT IS !!!! THE OTHER PART OF THEIR STORY !!! first of all i want to thank you all for the incredible support on part one, it was so nice to read all of your feedback ! please make sure to leave some feedback on this part as well. let me know ALL of your thoughts, and most importantly, ENJOY!
Monaco, 2021
The two weeks after Abu Dhabi are the longest of your life. Your phone remains silent - no late-night calls, no secret messages, no pictures of the cats that Max knows always make you smile. The space where he used to be feels enormous.
Your father is still dealing with the aftermath, appeals and media statements consuming his days. You watch him move through the house like a storm cloud, muttering about Masi and the FIA, and think about Max's words: "perfect Mercedes daughter."
You've never felt less perfect.
It's late one night when the doorbell rings. You're alone in the apartment - the one that's technically yours but has become a sanctuary for both of you over the past year. When you open the door, Max is standing there, looking as exhausted as you feel.
"Hi," he says softly.
You stand aside to let him in, heart pounding.
"I'm sorry," he says before you can speak. "I was cruel that night. You didn't deserve that."
"No, I didn't."
He runs a hand through his hair - a gesture so familiar it makes your chest ache. "I was high on winning, angry you weren't there, and I took it out on you. But that's not an excuse."
"I'm sorry too," you move closer. "You were right about some things. I should have been there for your celebration. It was your moment."
"It wasn't just my moment though, was it?" He sits on the couch, looking up at you. "It was your father's worst nightmare. Lewis' heartbreak. The most controversial end to a season ever." He laughs quietly. "Not exactly the best timing to announce we're in love."
You sit beside him, careful to maintain a small distance. "So what are you saying?"
"I'm saying… you were right. Telling them now, with everything so raw… it would be like throwing fuel on a fire." He reaches for your hand, and you let him take it. "I was so focused on finally being able to tell everyone, I didn't think about what that would mean for you. For your relationship with your dad."
"Max…"
"No, let me finish." His thumb traces patterns on your palm - another familiar gesture that makes tears prick at your eyes. "I've spent six years loving you. I can wait a bit longer for the timing to be right. For the wounds to heal a bit."
"What about what you said? About not being my dirty little secret anymore?"
"You're not keeping me a secret because you're ashamed," he says quietly. "You're protecting your family. And mine too, probably. Can you imagine Jos' reaction if we told him now?"
You both wince at the thought.
"So what do we do?" you ask.
He tugs you closer until you're against his chest, where you can hear his heartbeat - steady and strong and familiar. "We love each other. We wait for the right moment. And this time…" he kisses your head, "this time we decide together when that moment is. No ultimatums, no pressure."
"I missed you," you whisper into his shirt.
"I missed you too. These two weeks…" he shudders slightly. "Never again, okay? No matter how angry we get, no silence. We talk it out."
You lift your head to look at him properly. "Promise?"
Instead of answering, he kisses you - soft and sweet and apologetic. When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours.
"I love you," he says. "Mercedes daughter and all."
You laugh through sudden tears. "I love you too. Even when you're being an insufferable World Champion."
"Speaking of…" he grins, that boyish smile you fell in love with all those years ago, "I believe this is the first time I'm kissing you as a World Champion."
"Technically you've already kissed me as a World Champion."
"Ah, but that was angry championship kissing. This is making up championship kissing. Completely different."
You roll your eyes but let him pull you closer. "Is that so?"
"Mhmm. Much better. Want me to demonstrate the difference?"
Later, curled up in bed together, you talk about the future - not just when to tell everyone, but what comes after. Houses and holidays and maybe someday kids who'll have Wolff determination and Verstappen speed.
"Your dad might actually kill me when we tell him," Max muses, playing with your hair.
"Probably. But at least by then he might have calmed down about Abu Dhabi."
"That's optimistic of you."
You prop yourself up on an elbow to look at him. "Are you okay with waiting? Really okay?"
He considers this, serious now. "Yeah, I am. Because this time it feels different. This time we're deciding together." He touches your face gently. "And because this time I know you're not running away."
"Never again," you promise. "No more running."
As you fall asleep in his arms, you think about timing and choices and love that survives silence. Maybe it's not perfect - sneaking around, hiding from families, loving in the shadows.
But it's yours. And for now, that's enough.
2022
After Abu Dhabi last year, you and Max spent a quiet Christmas apart with your respective families, but managed to escape for New Year's. Away from the media frenzy and family tensions, you found peace in the simple moments - cooking together, watching movies, Max trying (and failing) to teach you sim racing.
On New Year's Eve, standing on your balcony watching fireworks illuminate the harbor, Max held you from behind. "This is how I want every year to start," he murmured against your neck.
"Just us?"
"Just us. No drama, no hiding, no championships on the line."
You turned in his arms. "Well, about that last part…"
"Okay, maybe some championships," he grinned. "But the rest… we'll figure it out, right?"
"We will," you promised, sealing it with a kiss as the clock struck midnight.
The first weeks of 2022 brought exciting changes. Susie announced her plans for the F1 Academy, a project aimed at supporting young female drivers, and immediately asked you to join her team.
"I need someone I can trust completely," she said during one of your planning sessions. "Someone who understands both the technical and human side of racing."
"Are you sure? It's a huge responsibility."
"YN, you're perfect for this. You've grown up in this sport, you understand the challenges these girls will face." Susie squeezed your hand. "Plus, you're the only person besides Toto who can match my caffeine consumption during race weekends."
Working closely with Susie brought you closer than ever. She became more than just your father's wife - she was your confidante, mentor, and friend. You spent long hours together, planning programs, reviewing applications, discussing how to break down barriers in motorsport.
Which made the current breakfast situation even more uncomfortable.
"Andreas has an impressive background in aerodynamics," Toto was saying, seemingly oblivious to your discomfort. "Oxford educated, worked with Ferrari's junior program…"
"Dad," you interrupted, pushing your eggs around your plate. "Can we maybe not?"
"I'm just saying, YN, you should give him a chance. He's exactly the kind of person who would understand your world."
Lewis and George exchanged knowing looks while Susie watched you carefully.
"The new regulations are keeping me busy enough," you tried. "Between that and the Academy with Susie…"
"There's always time for personal life," Toto persisted. "You're young, successful, beautiful. You shouldn't spend all your time buried in work."
After breakfast, Susie found you in your office, surrounded by Academy paperwork.
"Want to talk about it?" she asked, closing the door.
"About Dad's sudden career as a matchmaker?"
"He means well," Susie sat across from you. "He just wants you to be happy."
"Can you maybe… talk to him? Get him to drop it?"
"Why? Andreas seems like a lovely young man. Smart, ambitious…"
You set down your pen, heart racing. This was it - the moment to trust someone else with your secret.
"I… I already have someone."
Susie's eyebrows shot up. "Oh? How did I not know about this?"
"Because…" you took a deep breath. "Because it's complicated. Really complicated."
"YN," Susie leaned forward, "you can tell me anything. You know that, right?"
"It's Max," you whispered. "Max Verstappen."
Susie's eyes widened, but she didn't immediately speak. She got up, locked your office door, and sat back down.
"How long?"
"Since 2015, on and off, you know that story. But seriously since I came back in 2020."
"Through everything? The championship battle?"
You nodded, tears forming. "It was… difficult. Especially Abu Dhabi."
"Oh, sweetheart," Susie moved to your side, pulling you into a hug. "That must have been awful for you."
"You're not… mad?"
"Mad? Why would I be mad?"
"Because he's Red Bull, because of everything with Dad…"
"Listen to me," Susie pulled back to look at you. "Love doesn't care about team colors. God knows this sport has enough rivalry without policing people's hearts too."
"I don't know what to do," you admitted. "We want to tell everyone, but after Abu Dhabi…"
"The timing's not great," Susie agreed. "But YN, you can't hide forever. It'll only get harder."
"I know. But Papa…"
"Your father loves you more than anything in this world. More than Mercedes, more than championships." She squeezed your hands. "Will he be shocked? Absolutely. Probably throw something expensive. But he'll come around."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because I've seen how he looks at you - like you're still that little girl who used to fall asleep in the garage. He might not like your choice, but he'll respect it. Eventually."
"He was furious back then, said Max was too young, too reckless, that it would end in disaster. He threatened to send me back to boarding school."
"That explains a lot," Susie said softly. "Why he's been so pushy about these 'suitable' men lately."
"He thinks he protected me back then. Maybe he did - we were young, and things got messy. But now…"
"Now you're both different people," Susie finished. She was quiet for a moment, thinking. "You know what the real issue was back then?"
"That Max was the enemy?" you said dryly.
"No. That Toto couldn't control it. He's used to managing everything, planning ten steps ahead. But this…" she gestured vaguely, "this wasn't in his carefully constructed plan for you."
"I never wanted to disappoint him."
"Hey," Susie's voice was firm. "Loving someone isn't disappointing. It's probably the bravest thing we do."
"Thanks," you whisper, hugging Susie tightly. "For understanding. For not judging."
"Just... be careful, okay? And know that I'm here if you need to talk."
The conversation with Susie lifts a weight you didn't realize you were carrying. Having someone know, someone in your corner, makes everything feel more manageable.
Bahrain, 2022
The morning of the Bahrain Grand Prix buzzed with the familiar nervous energy of a season opener. You were in one of the back offices of the F1 Academy, triple-checking schedules and programs for the upcoming season, when you felt arms wrap around you from behind.
"Shouldn't you be in pre-race prep?" you asked, trying to sound stern but failing to hide your smile.
"I have fifteen minutes," Max murmured, pressing a kiss to your neck. "Wanted to wish you luck. Big day for you too."
You turned in his arms. "Nervous?"
"About the race? Nah." He grinned. "About you stealing the spotlight with the Academy launch? Terrified."
"Idiot," you laughed, playing with the collar of his race suit. "As if anything could overshadow the great Max Verstappen."
"Hey," his expression turned serious. "What you're doing here… it's important. You're going to change lives."
"Now who's being dramatic?"
"I mean it," he insisted. "You remember what it was like, being the only girl in karting? These kids won't have to feel that way because of you and Susie."
"Well... I quit karting after a year," you joke and Max rolls his eyes, "Oh come on, just kiss me before you have to go all defending world champion on track."
And he does, but before you can go any further the door opened.
"YN, have you seen the timing sheets from- OH SHIT!"
George Russell stood frozen in the doorway, his eyes wide as saucers. You and Max jumped apart like teenagers caught by their parents.
"I… um… I should…" George stammered, pointing vaguely behind him.
"George, wait!" You rushed to close the door before he could escape. "Please…"
"This is literally my first day as a Mercedes driver and I'm already caught in..." he gestures wildly between you and Max.
"George," you step forward, "you CANNOT tell my dad."
"I... what... how long..." he stammers.
"Please," Max speaks up, "We'll explain everything, just... keep this between us?"
George looks between you and Max, then sighs dramatically. "Well, I guess this is one way to start my Mercedes career - harboring my team principal's daughter's secret relationship with our biggest rival."
"Welcome to Mercedes?" you offer weakly.
"Right," George shakes his head, but he's fighting a smile. "I'm going to leave, pretend I never saw this, and maybe drink enough tonight to forget it entirely."
As he turns to go, he pauses. "But for what it's worth? Your secret's safe with me."
The door closes behind him, and you collapse against Max, half laughing, half panicking.
"Well," Max says dryly, "that's one more person who knows. At this rate, the only person who won't know will be your father."
You looked up at him. "You should go. GP will be looking for you."
"Yeah," he sighed, but made no move to leave. "Good luck today. Show them what the Wolff women can do."
"Good luck to you too. Try not to make Dad throw anything at the TV?"
He laughed, kissing you quickly. "No promises. But hey," he paused at the door, "for what it's worth, George's reaction wasn't terrible. Maybe there's hope for the others too."
As you watched him leave, you couldn't help but smile. One more person in their corner, one more step toward not hiding. Maybe, just maybe, the universe was trying to tell you something.
Singapore, 2022
The humidity of Singapore still clung to the air as most of the paddock crowded into Marquee, celebrating another street circuit spectacle. The bass pulsed through the exclusive VIP section where drivers and key personnel gathered.
You were at the bar with Lewis when Andreas appeared, looking particularly polished.
"YN Wolff," he smiled, a bit too confidently. "I was hoping to find you here."
You caught Lewis' subtle eye roll as he conveniently spotted someone he "needed to talk to."
"Andreas, hi," you tried to sound polite but distant, very aware of Max watching from across the room where he sat with Lando and Charles.
"You looked beautiful today in the paddock," he moved closer. "That dress you wore to the team dinner…"
"Thanks," you cut him off, scanning for an escape route. You found none.
"Your father mentions you're still single," he continued, either oblivious to or ignoring your discomfort. "I find that hard to believe."
At the other end of the VIP section, Max's jaw clenched as he watched the scene unfold.
"Mate, you're going to break that glass," Lando noted, watching Max's white-knuckled grip on his drink.
"Who is that guy?" Charles asked, following Max's gaze.
"Some engineer Toto's trying to set YN up with," Lando explained, then froze, realizing what he'd revealed.
Charles' eyes widened. "Wait, why do you know that? And why does Max look like he's about to commit murder?"
Before Lando could deflect, Max stood abruptly as Andreas placed his hand on your lower back.
"Oh shit," Lando muttered.
"I don't understand," Charles said, watching Max stride across the room. "Why is he- oh. OH."
Back at the bar, you were trying to subtly remove Andreas hand when you felt a familiar presence behind you.
"Everything okay here?" Max's voice was controlled, but you could hear the edge in it.
Andreas looked annoyed at the interruption. "We're fine, thank you."
"I wasn't asking you," Max said coldly, then softer: "YN?"
You turned toward him gratefully. "Actually, Max, would you mind helping me with something?"
"Of course," he placed his hand where Andreas' had been, but this touch was different - protective, familiar, right.
Andreas looked between you two, confusion turning to understanding. "Wait, are you…"
"She's not interested," Max said simply. "Never was."
You let Max guide you away from the bar, very aware of the eyes following you. Lando and Charles weren't even trying to hide their interest now, and you noticed Carlos and Pierre joining them, speaking in hushed tones.
"You didn't have to do that," you said quietly.
"Yes, I did." Max's hand hadn't left your back. "I'm tired of watching guys hit on my girlfriend because they think she's available."
You reached the relative privacy of a corner booth. "Max…"
"I know, I know. We're being careful. But YN," he turned to face you, "half the paddock already suspects something. Charles and Carlos are literally taking bets right now."
You glanced over - sure enough, money was being exchanged. "Great."
"Would it be so terrible?" Max asked. "If people knew?"
"No," you admitted. "But Dad…"
"Will find out eventually. Wouldn't you rather he heard it from us than through paddock gossip?"
You were about to respond when George appeared, slightly out of breath.
"You two need to be more subtle," he hissed. "Lando just asked me if there was something going on between you."
"What did you say?" you asked anxiously.
"I'm a terrible liar! I just made a noise and ran away!"
Max couldn't help laughing. "Smooth, Russell."
"This isn't funny," George insisted. "Look!"
You followed his gesture. The other drivers were gathered together, all of them looking your way occasionally.
"Oh god," you groaned. "They all know, don't they?"
"If they didn't before, they do now," George confirmed. "Max's little knight-in-shining-armor act wasn't exactly subtle."
"He had his hands all over you," Max defended.
"His hand was on my back for two seconds!"
"Two seconds too long."
George looked between you, amused. "You two are ridiculous. Also, heads up - Lando is coming over."
Sure enough, Lando was making his way through the crowd. He slid into your booth without invitation, expression unreadable.
"So," he said calmly, "how long?"
You glanced at Max, who squeezed your hand under the table. "Since 2020."
"Through the championship battle?" When you nodded, Lando let out a low whistle. "Damn, girl. That must have been…"
"Horrible," you finished. "But we managed."
Lando studied Max for a moment. "You better be sure about this. Because when Toto finds out…"
"I am," Max said firmly. "We both are."
"Good." Lando smiled finally. "Because I'm pretty sure Daniel just started a betting pool on how Toto's going to react, and I've got money on him throwing his headphones."
"Lando!" you exclaimed.
"What? Might as well profit from the drama." He stood up. "For what it's worth, I think it's kind of perfect. In a weird, Romeo and Juliet way."
"They both died in that story," George pointed out.
"Details," Lando waved him off. "Come on, George. Let's go see what odds Daniel's offering."
As they left, you buried your face in Max's shoulder. "This is a disaster."
"Is it?" he asked, running his hand up your arm. "Look around - no one seems shocked or angry. Well, except maybe Andreas."
You peaked up - he was right. The drivers were all still watching, but their expressions were mostly amused or knowing. Carlos gave you a thumbs up when he caught your eye.
"I guess the secret's out," you sighed. "At least in this room."
"Good." Max tilted your chin up. "Because I really want to kiss you right now."
"Max! Everyone's watching."
"Let them watch."
And before you could protest, he kissed you. When you pulled back, Max was grinning. "See? World didn't end."
"No," you said softly, "It really didn't."
The night continued, but differently now. No more hiding in corners or pretending not to know each other. Just you and Max, surrounded by friends who were apparently more supportive than you'd imagined.
Now you just had to figure out how to tell your father that his entire team - including his wife - had known about your relationship before him.
A late afternoon in Monaco, in Toto's office overlooking the harbor. What had started as a routine pre-race weekend meeting had quickly derailed when Andreas' name came up again.
"He asked about you again," Toto said, shuffling some papers on his desk. "He's a good man, YN. Smart, ambitious…"
"Dad," you cut in, "I've told you, I'm not interested in Andreas."
"You haven't even given him a chance," he insisted. "One dinner…"
"No."
Toto sighed, that familiar mix of frustration and concern crossing his face. "Liebling, I worry about you. Ever since that rebellious phase with Verstappen when you were eighteen…"
You tensed, feeling your heart rate spike. In the corner, you saw Lewis shift uncomfortably - he'd been quietly reviewing race strategies, but now he was fully alert.
"Dad…"
"You haven't been serious about anyone," Toto continued. "I know that boy hurt you, but you can't let one teenage romance…"
"You don't know anything about it," you said quietly, dangerously.
"I know enough. I know he was reckless, impulsive. I know ending it was the right decision."
Lewis cleared his throat. "Toto, maybe we should focus on qualifying…"
But Toto was on a roll now. "Andreas is different. He understands our world, he's stable…"
"He's boring," you snapped. "And you don't get to decide who I date."
"I'm trying to protect you!"
"From what?" You stood up. "From making my own choices? From being with someone who actually makes me happy?"
"Max Verstappen did not make you happy!" Toto's voice rose. "He was a distraction, a rebellion…"
"He was everything!" The words exploded out before you could stop them.
The office went deadly quiet. Lewis had his head in his hands.
"What?" Toto asked softly, dangerously.
You swallowed hard, years of secrets sitting heavy on your tongue. "You didn't protect me back then, Dad. You forced us apart. But you want to know something? He was never just a rebellion."
Toto stands slowly, his expression unreadable. "What are you saying, YN?"
You take a deep breath, catching Lewis' subtle head shake in your peripheral vision. The words are there, the whole truth ready to spill out, but... not like this. Not in anger.
"I'm saying I'm not eighteen anymore," you say finally, your voice steady. "I'm a grown woman who runs part of this team, who's helping build the F1 Academy with Susie. I make my own choices - about my career, about my life, about who I date."
"I only want what's best for you," Toto says, softer now.
"Then trust me to know what that is." You move toward the door, pausing with your hand on the handle. "And please, stop trying to set me up with Andreas. Or anyone else."
Zandvoort, 2022
The Dutch air mingles with the lingering scent of champagne in Max's private motorhome. The celebrations outside are still going strong - Dutch fans painting Zandvoort orange in honor of their hero's home win - but here, in this quiet space, it's just the two of you.
"Happy birthday," Max says softly, pulling a small wrapped package from behind his back. You're curled up on his couch, still wearing his Red Bull team jacket that you'd snuck on after everyone else had left.
"You already said that this morning," you smile, but take the package. "And before the race. And after you won."
"Well, it's not every day you turn twenty-five. And it's not every day I win at home on your birthday."
The package reveals a delicate gold necklace with a tiny racing helmet charm. But when you look closer, you notice something engraved on the back of the helmet - 15.03.15.
"The day we met," you whisper, running your finger over the date.
"I thought about getting something more obvious, but since we're still keeping us quiet…" He takes the necklace, moving behind you to clasp it around your neck. "This way you can wear it without anyone asking questions."
You touch the charm resting against your collarbone. "It's perfect."
"Unlike the cake situation," he grins, glancing at the remains of what was supposed to be a homemade birthday cake on the counter. "I really did try."
You laugh, remembering walking in to find Max covered in flour, frustration etched on his face as he stared at the somewhat lopsided creation. "The thought counts. Though maybe stick to driving?"
"Hey, I won today! I deserve some respect."
"You always win here," you tease. "It's your home race."
"True." He pulls you closer, until you're practically in his lap. "But winning on your birthday makes it special. Even if I couldn't kiss you in parc ferme."
"Dad would have had a heart attack right there in the garage."
"Speaking of Toto…" Max's voice turns serious. "How was the birthday lunch with him?"
You think back to the awkward meal, where your father had once again tried to subtly mention Andreas. "Same as usual. He means well."
"Still pushing the Andreas agenda?"
"Mhmm. Though Susie shut it down pretty quickly this time." You play with the helmet charm. "Can we not talk about it tho?
Max kisses your temple. "Whatever you want. It's your birthday - you make the rules."
"In that case…" you turn to face him properly. "I want to dance."
He groans. "YN…"
"Birthday rules," you remind him, already standing and pulling out your phone. When the first notes of a slow song fill the motorhome, you hold out your hand. "Dance with your birthday girl, World Champion."
He takes your hand, pulling you close as you sway together. Outside, you can still hear the distant sounds of celebrating fans, but in here it's just the music, Max's heartbeat under your ear, and the weight of a tiny gold helmet against your skin.
"This is nice," Max murmurs into your hair. "Though if anyone sees the mighty Max Verstappen slow dancing…"
"Your reputation will survive." You lift your head to look at him. "Thank you for making my birthday special, even if we had to celebrate in secret."
"Next year," he promises, "we'll do it properly. Big party, everyone we love, no hiding."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." He spins you gently. "But for now…" He dips you dramatically, making you laugh. "I kind of like having birthday girl all to myself."
You kiss him then, tasting chocolate and victory champagne and love that's grown from teenage rebellion into something unshakeable.
"Best birthday ever," you whisper against his lips.
Outside, Zandvoort celebrates its champion. Inside, in this quiet space that belongs just to you, you celebrate something else - another year of loving each other, of building a life in the spaces between public and private, of planning for a future where you won't have to choose between family and love.
For now, though, you're content to dance in a motorhome, wearing his team jacket and a gold helmet that carries your history, celebrating not just your birthday but everything you've built together.
Monaco, Summer 2023
The sleek car glides through Monaco's winding streets, but you can barely focus on the stunning views. Max's mysterious smile has you intrigued and slightly nervous - he's been unusually secretive all day.
"Are you going to tell me where we're going?" you ask for probably the tenth time, fidgeting with the sleeve of your sundress.
"Patience," he says, taking one hand off the wheel to squeeze yours. "We're almost there."
"You know I hate surprises."
He laughs. "No, you love surprises. You just hate not being in control."
He turns onto a quiet street lined with elegant villas, each one more beautiful than the last. The Mediterranean stretches out below, a perfect azure canvas. Your heart starts racing when he pulls into a driveway. The house is stunning - modern yet classic, with large windows and a terrace overlooking the sea.
"Max…" you start, but he's already out of the car and opening your door.
"Come on," he says, taking your hand. His excitement is palpable as he leads you to the front door. "Close your eyes."
"Really?"
"Trust me."
You do as he asks, letting him guide you forward. You hear keys jingling, a door opening, then his soft "Okay, open them."
The interior takes your breath away - open and airy, with natural light streaming in from every angle. But it's not just the architecture that catches your attention - there are small touches that feel incredibly personal. Racing memorabilia tastefully displayed, a few framed photos you recognize from your own collection.
"I bought it," Max says softly, watching your reaction. "For us."
You turn to face him, eyes wide. "What?"
"I want this to be our home," he continues, his voice full of emotion. He takes both your hands in his. "Where we can grow old together, maybe raise a family someday. No more sneaking around, no more hiding. Just us."
"But… when? How?"
"I've been working with a realtor for months. Remember all those 'simulator sessions' I had to do?" He grins sheepishly. "I was actually house hunting."
"You sneaky…" You trail off, speechless.
"Want to see the rest?" He's practically bouncing with excitement now. "There's a home gym downstairs, and the kitchen is amazing - I know how much you love to cook. And wait until you see the master bedroom…"
Tears start falling before you can stop them. Max reaches up to wipe them away, but you catch his hand.
"You bought us a house," you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. "You planned this whole future for us, and I can't even tell my dad about us."
"Hey," he pulls you close, one hand cradling the back of your head. "It's okay. We'll figure it out together, like we always do."
"No, it's not okay." You pull back to look at him. "You've been so patient, Max. For years. And I've been such a coward."
"You're not a coward," he says firmly. "Our relationship is complicated. I understand that."
"Still." You shake your head, suddenly determined. "I'm telling him tomorrow."
"YN, you don't have to—"
"I want to." You look around at this beautiful space he's created for your future. "You've given us a home. The least I can do is be brave enough to fight for us."
"Are you sure?" His eyes search yours. "Because if you're not ready…"
"I'm sure." You walk to the windows, taking in the view. "Besides, can you imagine trying to explain why I'm suddenly moving to a new house without telling him why?"
Max comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. "We could tell him you've developed a sudden passion for real estate investment."
You laugh despite your tears. "Yes, because that would totally explain why half my clothes are already in that closet I spotted upstairs."
"You noticed that, huh?"
"The Dior dress from the FIA gala was a bit of a giveaway." You turn in his arms. "How long have you been moving my things in?"
"A while," he admits. "Susie helped."
"Of course she did." You shake your head fondly. "Any other conspirators I should know about?"
"Well, Lewis might have helped coordinate the furniture delivery…"
"Lewis?!" You pull back to stare at him. "Lewis Hamilton helped you furnish our secret love nest?"
Max winces. "Please never call it that again. And yes - turns out he has great taste in interior design."
You laugh, really laugh, and it feels like releasing years of tension. "This is insane. We're insane."
"Maybe," he agrees, pulling you close again. "But it's a good kind of insane, right?"
You look around at this beautiful house - your house - taking in all the thoughtful details. The photos telling your story, the mix of both your tastes in the décor, the way the space already feels like home.
"The best kind," you whisper, and kiss him.
Max kisses you back, soft and sweet, and you can feel his smile against your lips. When you finally part, he rests his forehead against yours.
"So," he says, "want to see our bedroom?"
"Our bedroom," you repeat, testing the words. "I like how that sounds."
"Me too." He takes your hand, leading you toward the stairs. "Though fair warning - I let Lando help with the media room setup, so that might need some adjustments."
"Oh god."
"Yeah, there may be more gaming consoles than strictly necessary…"
In this moment, in your new home, tomorrow's confrontation feels less daunting. After all, you've built something real and lasting here - something worth fighting for. And as Max leads you through your future together, room by room, you can't help but think that maybe it's time for everyone to know.
You've been standing outside your father's office at Mercedes for what feels like hours, but the watch on your wrist says it's only been ten minutes. Taking a deep breath, you finally knock.
"Come in," his familiar voice calls out.
Toto looks up from his desk, his face brightening when he sees you. "Schatz! What a lovely surprise." He stands to greet you, but pauses when he notices your expression. "What's wrong?"
"Papa, I need to tell you something." Your voice trembles slightly. "And I need you to listen. Really listen."
He gestures to the chair across from his desk, concern etching his features. "Of course. You can tell me anything."
You sit, hands clasped tightly in your lap. "I'm in love."
His face relaxes into a smile. "Is that all? Liebling, you had me worried. Who's the lucky—"
"It's Max." The words come out in a rush. "It's always been Max."
The silence that follows is deafening. You watch as confusion crosses his face, followed by understanding, and then something darker.
"Max… Verstappen?" He says the name like it tastes bitter. "This is a joke."
"No, it's not." You straighten your spine. "We've been together for two years. Actually, we never really stopped loving each other after… after what happened when we were eighteen."
Toto stands abruptly, running a hand through his hair. "This is impossible. You can't be serious."
"I am. And there's more." You take another deep breath. "We're moving in together. He bough a house for us, because he wants us to build a future together."
"No." His voice is sharp. "Absolutely not. I forbid it."
"I'm not asking for permission, Papa. I'm telling you."
He turns to face you, and the hurt in his eyes makes your heart ache. "How long have you been lying to me?"
"Since 2020," you admit quietly. "When I came back… we tried to stay away from each other. We really did. But we couldn't."
"So what, you've been sneaking around behind my back all these years?" His accent grows thicker with emotion. "Meeting in secret like teenagers?"
"We didn't have a choice."
He's quiet after that, and you can almost see the storm inside his head.
"Who knows?" The question is sharp, hurt evident in his tone.
"I told Susie last year. Lewis has known almost from the beginning. George found out in Bahrain. Some of the other drivers..."
"So everyone but me?" He laughs, but there's no humor in it. "My own wife, my drivers, half the paddock knew my daughter was in a relationship with Max Verstappen, and no one thought to tell me?"
"They were respecting our privacy. Our choice."
"Our choice?" He stands again, agitated. "He's Red Bull, YN! Our biggest rival! The same team that's been fighting us for years, the same driver who—"
"Who makes me happier than I've ever been," you interrupt. "Who loves me for who I am, not whose daughter I am. Who's supported my career, my dreams, everything I want to do."
"And the team rivalry? The competition?"
"We've managed it for years, Dad. We know how to separate personal and professional."
"All those times I tried to set you up with other people..."
"I know you meant well."
"And Susie?" His voice catches. "She knew and didn't tell me?"
"She said it wasn't her story to tell. That I needed to be the one to tell you when I was ready."
Toto runs a hand over his face. "And now you're ready because...?"
"Because I'm tired of hiding. Because Max and I have built something real and beautiful, and I want you to be part of it." You stand, moving around his desk to touch his arm. "Because you're my father, and despite everything, I want you to know me. All of me."
"And if I can't accept it?"
The question hangs heavy in the air. You feel tears threatening but force them back.
"Then that's your choice. But I won't give him up. Not again. Not for anyone."
Toto is quiet for a long moment, staring out at the factory below. When he finally speaks, his voice is tired. "You really love him?"
"More than anything."
He turns to look at you, really look at you, maybe for the first time seeing not his little girl but the woman you've become. "And he makes you happy?"
"Yes." Your voice is firm, certain.
Another long pause. "I need time."
It's not acceptance, but it's not rejection either. You nod, wiping away a stray tear. "Okay."
"Does he…" Toto clears his throat. "Does he treat you well?"
"Better than I deserve sometimes."
He makes a sound that might be a laugh or a sob. "No one could ever deserve better than you, Schatz."
You close the distance between you, wrapping your arms around him. After a moment, his arms come around you too, holding you like he did when you were small.
"I'm still angry," he murmurs into your hair.
"I know."
"And hurt."
"I know that too."
He pulls back, cupping your face in his hands. "But you are my daughter. My precious girl. Nothing will ever change that."
Fresh tears spill over. "Papa…"
"I can't promise to like this. Or him. But…" He sighs deeply. "I will try. For you."
It's more than you dared hope for. "Thank you."
As you leave his office later, you know this isn't the end of it. There will be more conversations, more tensions to navigate. But for the first time in years, you feel truly free.
The Monaco sunset paints the dining room in warm hues as you clear the plates from dinner, the conversation flowing as easily as the wine. Lewis lounges in his chair, gesturing with his glass as he speaks.
"Still can't believe Toto didn't notice for two years, honestly," he chuckles. "I mean, you two weren't exactly subtle at the Saudi GP last year."
Max groans. "That was YN's fault. She's the one who kissed me in the paddock."
"After you won! Away from everyone," you defend yourself from across the table. "Besides, Papa was too busy arguing with Christian to notice."
"Lucky for us," Max mutters, but he's smiling.
"How is he taking it now?" Lewis asks, his expression growing serious. "It's been what, two weeks?"
You exchange a look with Max. "Better, I think. He's… processing."
"He called me yesterday," Max adds quietly. "First time ever."
Both you and Lewis straighten up. "What? You didn't tell me that!" you exclaim.
Max shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant but you can see the tension in his shoulders. "It was brief. He just said that if I ever hurt you, they'll never find my body."
Lewis nearly chokes on his wine. "Classic Toto."
"I'll get the dessert," you announce, standing. "And Max, we're talking about that phone call later."
As you head to the kitchen, you can hear their voices carrying through the open-plan space.
"Seriously though," Lewis' voice drops lower, but not low enough. "You need to be prepared. Toto might try to…"
"Separate us again?" Max's voice is steel wrapped in silk. "I'd like to see him try."
"I'm just saying, be ready. He did it once before."
"We were kids then. It's different now." A pause. "I'm different now."
"I know you are, mate. That's why I helped with the house. But Toto… he can be protective."
"Lewis." Max's voice is deadly serious now. "I would rather end my career tomorrow than lose her again. She's… she's everything."
You freeze in the doorway of the kitchen, tiramisu forgotten in your hands.
"I know what it did to her last time," Max continues, unaware of your presence. "What it did to both of us. But I'm not that scared teenager anymore, and she's not that girl who was afraid to stand up to her father. We fought too hard to get here."
"Good." Lewis' voice is warm with approval. "Because if you hurt her, Toto won't have to hide your body. I'll do it myself."
Max laughs. "Get in line. Susie already called dibs."
"Speaking of Susie, how's she handling being in the middle?"
"Better than any of us deserve," Max sighs. "She's been amazing. Especially with YN. When Toto first found out…"
"That bad?"
"YN cried for hours after telling him. I've never felt so helpless." Max's voice cracks slightly. "All I could do was hold her."
"Sometimes that's enough," Lewis says softly. "Sometimes that's everything."
You wipe away a tear you hadn't realized had fallen. The tiramisu trembles slightly in your hands.
"I'm going to marry her someday," Max says suddenly. "I already have the ring."
The tiramisu nearly slips from your grasp.
"Does she know?" Lewis asks.
"Not yet. I wanted to wait until things settled with Toto. She deserves a proper proposal, not one overshadowed by family drama."
"Smart man." Lewis pauses. "You really have grown up, haven't you?"
"Had to. She deserves the best version of me."
You can't take it anymore. You walk back in, pretending you haven't heard a word. "Who wants dessert?"
Both men straighten up, but you catch the knowing look Lewis gives Max. As you serve the tiramisu, Max's hand finds yours, squeezing gently.
"Everything okay, liefje?" he asks softly.
You look at him - this man who's grown and changed and loved you through everything - and feel your heart swell. "Perfect," you whisper, and mean it.
Lewis watches you both with a soft smile. "You know," he says, "I think Toto will come around eventually. He may be stubborn, but he's not blind. Anyone can see what you two have is real."
"Real enough to redecorate my gaming room?" Max asks hopefully.
You laugh, the emotional moment breaking. "Nice try. But Lando's RGB setup stays."
"It gives me a headache!"
"Should have thought of that before letting him design it," Lewis points out.
As they fall into friendly bickering about proper gaming room aesthetics, you sit back and take it all in - this beautiful home, these people you love, this life you've built. It hasn't been easy, but everything has been worth it.
Your phone rings just as you're finishing up some work in your home office. Seeing your father's name on the screen makes your heart skip.
"Papa?"
"Schatz." His voice is carefully neutral. "Are you free tonight?"
"I… yes?"
"Good. You and Max will come to dinner. Eight o'clock."
It's not a question. You glance at the clock - it's already 4 PM. "Tonight?"
"Unless you have other plans?"
"No, no plans." You swallow hard. "We'll be there."
"Good." A pause. "And YN?"
"Yes?"
"Tell Max to breathe. It's just dinner."
The line goes dead before you can respond. You sit there for a moment, phone still in hand, before rushing downstairs to find Max.
He's in the gym, finishing up his workout. One look at your face and he's pulling off his headphones.
"What's wrong?"
"Papa called. He wants us for dinner. Tonight."
Max freezes mid-stretch. "Tonight? As in… tonight tonight?"
"Eight o'clock."
"Fuck." He starts pacing. "Fuck fuck fuck. This is it. He's going to murder me. He's probably got a plan to make it look like an accident. Lewis will help him hide the body—"
"Max."
"—probably already has an alibi arranged. Susie will vouch for him, of course—"
"Max!"
He stops pacing. "What?"
"He actually said to tell you to breathe. His exact words were 'it's just dinner.'"
Max stares at you. "That's worse. That's so much worse. He's lulling me into a false sense of security."
You can't help but laugh, even as anxiety churns in your own stomach. "You're being ridiculous."
"Am I?" He runs a hand through his sweaty hair. "The last time I was in the same room as your father, he looked at me like he was calculating how many pieces he could cut me into."
"That was three weeks ago, right after he found out. Things are… better now."
"Are they? Because that phone call he made last week about hiding my body didn't feel like 'better.'"
You cross the room to him, placing your hands on his chest. "Hey. Look at me."
His eyes meet yours, and you can see the genuine worry there.
"Whatever happens tonight, we face it together. Okay?"
He takes a deep breath, covering your hands with his. "Okay."
"Good. Now go shower, because you stink."
"Charming," he mutters, but he's smiling now. "What should I wear?"
"Something bulletproof?" you suggest innocently.
"Not helping!"
The drive to your parents' house is tense. Susie opens the door, her warm smile immediately putting you both at ease. "Come in, come in. Toto's just opening the wine."
"We brought some too," you say, holding up the bottle you'd carefully selected.
"Ah, his favorite." Susie winks. "Good choice."
The dining room is set beautifully, candles flickering on the table. Your father stands as you enter, and for a moment, everyone freezes.
Then Toto steps forward, kissing your cheek. "You look beautiful, Schatz."
He turns to Max, who looks like he's trying very hard not to bolt. They regard each other for a long moment before Toto extends his hand.
Max shakes it, and you breathe again.
Dinner starts surprisingly well. The conversation stays safe - racing, weather, Susie's latest projects. Max gradually relaxes enough to actually eat, though you notice he keeps looking at your father like he's expecting an ambush.
It comes after the plates are cleared.
"So," Toto says, setting down his wine glass. "We need to talk."
Max's hand finds yours under the table.
"Max." Your father's voice is measured. "I need you to listen carefully to what I'm about to say."
"Yes, sir."
"When YN was born, I made a promise to protect her from anything that could hurt her. When she was eighteen, I thought I was doing that by keeping her away from you."
You feel Max tense beside you.
"I was wrong."
The admission hangs in the air. Even Susie looks surprised.
"You were angry then. Volatile. Too much like your father." Toto continues. "But you've grown. Changed. I see that now."
He leans forward, eyes intense. "But understand this: that girl sitting next to you? She is my world. My greatest joy, my greatest pride. And if you ever - ever - give me reason to think you don't deserve her…"
"I don't," Max interrupts quietly. "Deserve her, I mean. I know that. I try every day to be worthy of her love, and I'll keep trying for the rest of my life."
Something shifts in Toto's expression.
"And you," he turns to you. "My strong, stubborn daughter. You've grown too. Standing up to me… it showed me you're not my little girl anymore. You're a woman who knows her own mind, her own heart."
Tears prick at your eyes. "Papa…"
"I trust your judgment," he says softly. "Even when it differs from mine."
Susie reaches over to squeeze his hand, pride shining in her eyes.
"Now," Toto straightens, his expression growing serious again. "We need to discuss the media situation. Your relationship will be public knowledge soon, if it isn't already."
"We've been careful," you start, but he holds up a hand.
"Careful isn't enough. The press will be relentless. They'll try to create drama, stir up controversy. Everything you do, every interaction, will be scrutinized."
"We know," Max says. "We've talked about it."
"Good. But you need to be prepared. They'll drag up the past, try to create tension between the teams. Your relationship will become clickbait."
"We can handle it," you say firmly.
"Perhaps. But you'll need support." Toto looks between you both. "Which is why… which is why I'm offering mine."
Max's grip on your hand tightens.
"When the story breaks, there will be questions. Speculation. I will make it clear that you have my blessing." The words seem to cost him something, but his voice is steady. "It won't stop the circus, but it might help control the narrative."
You're crying openly now. Max looks shellshocked.
"Thank you," he manages finally. "That… that means everything."
Toto nods once, then reaches for his wine. "Now, who wants dessert? Susie made Sachertorte."
As Susie bustles off to the kitchen, you catch your father's eye. The love there, the acceptance, makes your heart full.
Max leans over to whisper in your ear. "I think I just aged ten years."
You squeeze his hand. "Worth it?"
He looks at you, then at your father who's pretending not to watch you both, then back to you.
"Every second," he says, and kisses your temple.
And just like that, your worlds align.
Saint-Tropez, 2024
The morning sun filters through the sheer curtains of your villa, casting warm patterns across the rumpled sheets. Max's fingers trace lazy circles on your bare shoulder as you lie there, both reluctant to acknowledge that real life awaits.
"Do we have to go back?" you mumble into his chest.
"Mmm, eventually." He drops a kiss on your head. "Though I could get used to this."
"What, me using you as a human pillow?"
"You do that at home too, liefje."
You prop yourself up on an elbow to look at him, taking in the relaxed set of his features, the way his hair is sticking up wildly. "True, but here you're not constantly checking the time for sim racing with Lando."
"That was one time!"
"It was three times last week alone."
He tugs you back down, rolling so you're trapped beneath him. "You're just jealous because I'm better at it than you."
"Excuse me?" You poke his ribs. "Who won last time?"
"You cheated!"
"Did not!"
"You distracted me!"
"Not my fault you can't focus when I kiss your neck."
His eyes darken. "Want to test that theory?"
"We'll be late for our flight," you warn, but you're already tilting your head as his lips find that spot behind your ear.
"Worth it," he murmurs against your skin.
Later, tangled in sheets again, you check your phone while Max dozes beside you. A frown crosses your face.
"That's weird."
"Hmm?" Max doesn't open his eyes.
"Lewis still hasn't answered my texts from yesterday. Or the day before."
You feel him tense slightly. "Maybe he's busy."
"During holidays? And he always answers eventually." You sit up, noticing how Max suddenly seems very interested in the ceiling. "Max…"
"What?"
"You know something."
"I don't."
"You're doing that thing with your jaw."
His hand flies to his face. "What thing?"
"That clenching thing you do when you're hiding something." You narrow your eyes. "Spill it."
"There's nothing to spill." He sits up too quickly. "We should start packing."
"Max Emilian Verstappen."
"YN Wolff," he mimics, but there's an edge of nervousness to his teasing.
"Is Lewis okay?"
"He's fine! Totally fine. Completely fine. Never been better."
You stare at him. "You are the worst liar ever."
"I'm not—" He cuts himself off with a groan. "I can't tell you."
"Can't or won't?"
"Both?" He runs a hand through his hair. "Look, it's nothing bad. Just… something that's not public yet."
Your stomach drops. "Is he sick?"
"What? No! No, nothing like that." He catches your hands. "I promise, he's okay. It's just… complicated."
"Complicated how?"
"The kind of complicated I really can't tell you about yet." His eyes are pleading. "Please don't ask me to. I promised."
You study his face, seeing the genuine conflict there. "But he's okay?"
"Yes."
"And it's not bad news?"
He hesitates. "That… depends on how you look at it."
"Max!"
"I've already said too much." He kisses your forehead. "You'll know soon enough."
You flop back onto the pillows with a huff. "I hate secrets."
"Says the woman who kept our relationship secret for two years."
"That was different!"
"Sure it was." He stretches out beside you, pulling you close. "Can we go back to the part where we were enjoying our last morning in paradise?"
You want to protest, to push for more information, but his hand is sliding up your thigh and his lips are at your neck again and suddenly Lewis' mysterious silence seems less important.
"Fine," you concede, already breathless. "But this isn't over."
"Never is with you," he murmurs fondly. "It's why I love you."
"Because I'm stubborn?"
"Because you never give up on the people you care about."
Something in his voice makes you pause. "Max…"
"Let me love you," he whispers. "Just for now, let that be enough."
The world and its complications can wait. For now, there's just this - the sun on your skin, Max's heartbeat under your palm, and the knowledge that whatever comes next, you'll face it together.
Even if he is terrible at keeping secrets.
The gentle hum of your computer fills your office at Mercedes HQ as you review the latest F1 Academy reports. A notification pops up on your phone - Instagram, probably another post from Max complaining about his training session.
Your coffee cup freezes halfway to your mouth.
BREAKING: Lewis Hamilton to join Ferrari in 2025
The cup clatters onto your desk, coffee spilling across papers you can't bring yourself to care about. Your hands shake as you scroll through post after post confirming it.
Lewis is leaving.
Lewis is going to Ferrari.
Lewis didn't tell you.
Max knew and didn't tell you.
Your father…
You're on your feet before you realize it, striding through the corridors. People step out of your way, perhaps recognizing the storm in your expression. You barely register Susie calling your name as you pass her office.
The door to your father's office bangs open. He looks up, unsurprised.
"What is going on?" Your voice trembles.
"YN—"
"No." You hold up your phone, the Ferrari announcement glaring at you. "What is this?"
Toto sighs, removing his glasses. "Come in and close the door."
"You knew." It's not a question. "You all knew. That's why Lewis wasn't answering my messages. That's why Max was acting strange in Saint-Tropez."
"We couldn't tell you."
"Couldn't or wouldn't?" The words come out sharp, hurt. "I'm not just your daughter anymore, Papa. I'm co-director of F1 Academy. I work here. This affects me professionally as well as personally."
"Which is exactly why we couldn't tell you." He stands, coming around his desk. "The announcement had to be handled carefully. Any leak could have—"
"Leak?" You step back when he reaches for you. "Is that what I am to you? A potential leak?"
"Schatz, no—"
"Lewis is family!" Your voice cracks. "He's been here my entire life. He watched me grow up. He helped Max and me when…" You swallow hard. "I had to find out from Instagram. Instagram, Papa!"
"I know."
"Did everyone know except me? Was there some big meeting where you all decided poor YN can't be trusted?"
"It wasn't like that."
"Then what was it like?" Tears spill over. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like nobody trusted me enough to tell me that one of the most important people in my life is leaving."
Toto moves forward again, and this time you let him pull you into a hug. "Lewis wanted to tell you himself," he says softly. "He was going to come see you today, after the announcement. He didn't want you to have to carry the secret."
"I could have handled it."
"I know you could have." His hand smooths over your hair like when you were small. "But he didn't want to put you in that position. Neither did Max."
You stiffen. "Max knew for how long?"
"YN…"
"How long?"
"Since before New Year's."
The betrayal hits fresh. "That's why he was so weird about Lewis not texting back. He let me worry instead of just telling me."
"He was protecting you."
"I don't need protection!" You pull away. "I need honesty. I need the people I love to trust me. I need—" Your voice breaks. "I need to not feel like an outsider in my own family."
"Oh, Schatz." Toto's face crumples. "You have never been an outsider. Lewis insisted on keeping it quiet precisely because he cares so much. He knew how hard it would be for you."
"It's harder finding out like this."
A soft knock interrupts. You turn to see Lewis in the doorway, still in his Mercedes gear - for one of the last times, you realize with a pang.
"Little Wolff," he starts, but you hold up a hand.
"Don't." You brush past him, ignoring his attempt to catch your arm. "I have work to do."
"Please—"
"Congratulations on Ferrari," you say stiffly, not looking back. "I'm sure you'll do great things there."
You make it back to your office before the tears really start. Your phone buzzes - Max calling. Then Lewis. Then Susie.
You silence it, staring out your window at the Mercedes logo shining in the winter sun. It looks different now, knowing Lewis won't be racing under it anymore soon.
Everything looks different.
Your phone lights up again - a text from Max.
"I'm sorry. I hated keeping this from you. I love you"
You turn the phone face down.
Later. You'll deal with all of it later.
By the time you make it home that evening, your eyes are red and puffy from crying. Max is already there - of course he is - waiting in the kitchen with that worried look you've come to know so well.
"Baby…" he starts, but you brush past him, dropping your bag on the counter with trembling hands.
"Don't." Your voice cracks. "Just… don't."
But Max has never been good at leaving you alone when you're hurting. His arms wrap around you from behind, and despite your anger, you find yourself leaning back into his warmth.
"I wanted to tell you," he whispers against your hair. "Every day, I wanted to tell you."
The dam breaks. You turn in his arms, burying your face in his chest as sobs wrack your body. His arms tighten around you, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other rubs soothing circles on your back.
"He's leaving," you choke out. "Lewis is actually leaving. How can he leave? He's… he's my brother, Max. He's been there my whole life. The garage won't be the same without him. The team won't be the same."
"I know, baby. I know."
"He didn't tell me. None of you told me." You pull back enough to look up at him, tears still streaming. "You all just decided I couldn't handle it."
Max wipes your tears with his thumbs, his own eyes suspiciously bright. "Lewis wanted to protect you. We all did. You've been working so hard with F1 Academy, with the team… he didn't want you carrying this weight."
"But I could have handled it! I'm not some fragile thing that needs protecting anymore."
"No," Max agrees softly, "you're the strongest person I know. But Lewis loves you like a sister. He wanted to tell you himself, properly. Not through some leaked rumor or whispered secret."
You collapse against him again, letting out a shuddering breath. "I can't imagine Mercedes without him. Every memory I have there, he's part of it. Even when we were hiding us, he was there, watching out for us, covering for us…"
Max leads you to the couch, pulling you into his lap. You curl into him, feeling drained.
"Talk to him," he murmurs. "Not today, not tomorrow if you're not ready. But don't let this distance grow. You'll regret it."
"When did you get so wise?" you ask weakly.
"Around the same time I realized that sometimes loving someone means letting them be angry at you for trying to protect them." He presses a kiss to your temple. "Even if you'd do it again."
You stay like that for a long time, wrapped in Max's arms as the sun sets outside. Your phone buzzes occasionally - more messages from Lewis, probably - but you ignore it. Tomorrow you'll deal with it all. Tomorrow you'll be strong again.
But tonight, you let yourself be held and comforted, mourning the end of an era while knowing, deep down, that family is family - even when they're wearing red instead of silver.
Bahrain, 2024
The Bahrain paddock buzzes with its usual first-race energy, but everything feels off-kilter. You've been masterfully avoiding proper conversations with Lewis all weekend, keeping interactions professional and brief. The pit wall feels different already, knowing it's his last season here.
You're reviewing data sheets in the garage when his shadow falls across your tablet.
"Little Wolff," Lewis says softly, using the nickname that usually makes you smile but now just makes your chest ache. "Can we talk?"
"I'm quite busy," you reply, not looking up. "Qualifying strategy needs finalizing."
"YN." His voice is gentle but firm. "Please."
You finally meet his eyes, seeing the concern there, the sadness. He looks older somehow, or maybe that's just your perception shifting with everything else.
"What's left to say?" You keep your voice low, mindful of the mechanics nearby. "You made your decision. You kept it from me. We move forward."
"That's not fair and you know it." Lewis steps closer. "I've tried calling, texting…"
"I've been busy."
"You've been avoiding me." He sighs. "I never wanted to hurt you."
"Well, you did." The words come out sharper than intended. "Did you think finding out from social media wouldn't hurt? That watching Max and Papa dance around it for weeks wouldn't hurt?"
"I wanted to protect you—"
"Stop saying that!" You catch yourself, lowering your voice again. "Everyone keeps saying they were protecting me. I'm not a child anymore, Lewis. I run part of this team. I handle confidential information every day. I've kept secrets bigger than this."
Understanding crosses his face. "Like Max."
"Yes, like Max." You swallow hard. "You trusted me then. You helped us. Why couldn't you trust me with this?"
"Because this wasn't just my secret to keep." Lewis runs a hand over his face. "There were contracts, negotiations, timing issues. And yes, I wanted to tell you myself, properly. Not have you carry it around for weeks knowing you couldn't talk to anyone about it."
"So instead you let me worry when you weren't responding to messages? Let me think something was wrong? Let Max lie to me?"
"I asked him not to tell you." Lewis reaches for your hand but you pull back. "He wanted to. He hated keeping it from you."
"But he did anyway."
"Because he understands sometimes protecting the people we love means letting them be angry with us." Lewis's voice softens. "You're my family, YN. You're the little sister I never had. Leaving Mercedes… leaving you… it's one of the hardest decisions I've ever made."
You blink back tears, refusing to cry in the garage. "Then why are you?"
"Because sometimes we need to chase new dreams, even when it means leaving safe harbors." He smiles sadly. "You taught me that, actually. When you chose Max despite everything, despite what it could cost you. You taught me that sometimes the scariest choices are the right ones."
"That's different."
"Is it?" Lewis raises an eyebrow. "You took a risk for love. For growth. For what you believed was right for you, even knowing it would hurt people you care about."
You look away, his words hitting too close to home.
"I'm not asking you not to be hurt," he continues. "I'm just asking you not to let that hurt break us. I'm still your Lewis. That doesn't change just because I'm wearing red."
"It feels like everything's changing," you whisper.
"Some things never will." He opens his arms. "Come here, Little Wolff."
This time you don't resist, letting him pull you into a hug. The familiar smell of his cologne brings fresh tears to your eyes.
"I'm still mad at you," you mumble into his chest.
"I know."
"And you better not beat us too badly in that Ferrari."
You feel his laugh rumble. "I'll do my best."
"Lewis?"
"Hmm?"
"I'm going to miss you so much."
His arms tighten. "I'm not gone yet. We've got a whole season ahead of us. And after… I'm still your big brother. That doesn't change with the color of my race suit."
Over his shoulder, you catch Max watching from the Red Bull garage, a soft smile on his face. He gives you a small nod before turning back to his engineers.
Some things change. Some things stay the same. And sometimes, you realize, holding onto anger hurts more than letting it go.
Miami, 2024
The sun beats down mercilessly as you pace your hotel room, phone clutched in your hand. The notifications won't stop - Instagram, Twitter, all exploding with the same photos. You and Max on his boat in Monaco last weekend, his hands cupping your face as he kissed you, both of you clearly lost in each other.
You'd been so careful for so long. One moment of letting your guard down, and now…
The door opens and Max rushes in, still in his Red Bull gear from practice. "Baby?" His voice is soft with concern.
"Have you seen them?" You hold up your phone, hands trembling. "They're everywhere. Everyone knows. Papa is going to have to address it in the press conference and—"
Max crosses the room in three long strides, taking your face in his hands - just like in the photos, you realize with a jolt. "Breathe," he murmurs. "Just breathe with me."
"But—"
"Breathe first." His thumbs stroke your cheeks. "In through your nose, out through your mouth. With me."
You follow his lead, matching your breathing to his until the panic starts to recede. Only then does he lead you to sit on the edge of the bed, keeping one arm around you.
"Now," he says, "tell me what you're really afraid of."
"Everything!" You gesture wildly with your free hand. "The media circus, the speculation, the questions about favoritism in the sport, Papa having to defend us publicly, the board's reaction…"
"YN." Max turns you to face him fully. "We knew this would happen eventually. We talked about it."
"I know, but—"
"But nothing." His blue eyes are intense, earnest. "We're not doing anything wrong. We're two adults who love each other. Yes, there will be talk. Yes, there will be questions. But we can handle it." His lips quirk. "We've handled worse."
You lean into him, letting his steady presence ground you. "Papa's press conference is in twenty minutes."
"And he'll handle it like he handles everything - with that terrifying Wolff composure." Max's hand runs soothingly up and down your back. "He loves you, baby. He's not going to let anyone suggest anything improper about us."
"I should be there," you whisper. "I should face it with him."
"No." Max's voice is firm. "Let him handle this part. That's what fathers do - they protect their children, even when their children are grown up and running F1 programs."
Your phone buzzes again - another news alert. Max gently takes it from your hand and sets it aside.
"Remember what you told me?" he asks softly. "That night in Monaco when I was worried about how people would react to us being together again?"
You smile slightly. "I told you that what other people think doesn't matter."
"Exactly." He presses his forehead to yours. "You said that we've earned the right to be happy, that we're not teenagers anymore trying to sneak around. You said we're stronger together than apart."
"Using my own words against me?"
"Always." He kisses you softly. "Because you were right then, and you're still right now. Let them talk. Let them speculate. We know the truth."
Your phone lights up with a livestream notification - the press conference is starting. Max reaches for the remote, turning on the hotel room's TV where it's already being broadcast.
"We can turn it off," he offers, but you shake your head.
"No. I need to see."
You curl into Max's side as the questions start. Your father sits there, calm and collected as ever, fielding questions about strategy and performance. Then:
"Toto, there are photos circulating of your daughter YN with Max Verstappen. Given the rivalry between Mercedes and Red Bull, and Max's history with both Mercedes and your family, do you have any comment?"
The room goes silent. You hold your breath, feeling Max tense beside you.
Your father adjusts his glasses, that familiar gesture that usually precedes something important. "Yes, I do have a comment." His voice is measured but firm. "My daughter is a highly respected professional in this sport, running our F1 Academy program and working tirelessly to create opportunities for young women in motorsport. Her personal life is her own, and she has my full support in all her choices."
"But given the competitive nature of F1—"
"Let me be very clear," Toto interrupts, and you recognize that steel in his voice. "YN has proven herself time and time again. She has earned her position through hard work and dedication. Max Verstappen is one of the most talented drivers of his generation. They are both adults who conduct themselves with integrity and professionalism. Any suggestion otherwise is not only disrespectful but reveals more about the person asking than about them."
Tears blur your vision. Max's arm tightens around you.
"See?" he whispers. "Terrifying Wolff composure."
On screen, your father continues: "My daughter and Max have my blessing and my respect. They have shown wisdom and maturity in handling their relationship alongside their professional responsibilities. Now, unless there are questions about this weekend's race…"
You bury your face in Max's chest, overwhelmed. His hands stroke your hair as he murmurs soft Dutch endearments.
"He defended us," you say wonderingly. "He really defended us."
"Of course he did." Max kisses the top of your head. "He's your father. And…" he hesitates, "I think maybe he's starting to like, a little bit."
You look up at him, seeing the vulnerability in his eyes. "You know he likes you."
"Yeah." Max smiles softly. "He called me yesterday, you know. Said if any reporters gave me trouble about the photos, to refer them to him. Said he'd handle it."
Fresh tears spill over. "He did?"
"Mmhmm." Max wipes your tears with his thumb."Does this mean I can finally kiss you in the paddock?"
You laugh through your tears. "Maybe let's ease them into it?"
"Fine." He sighs dramatically. "But I'm holding your hand in public. No negotiation on that."
"Deal." You curl back into him, feeling the panic from earlier dissolve into something warmer, more certain. "Thank you for being here. For being you."
"Always, baby." Max kisses you again, soft and sweet. "Now, what do you say we give them something else to talk about and go absolutely dominate this race weekend?"
You smile against his lips. "Now that sounds like a plan."
Las Vegas, 2024
The neon lights blur through your tears as you watch the podium ceremony. George and Lewis stand there together, silver suits gleaming under the artificial lights, Mercedes' last 1-2 with this particular lineup.
Your heart feels like it might burst - pride, joy, and melancholy all tangled together. Max clinched his fourth title today, and you couldn't be prouder.
"Look at them," Susie whispers, squeezing your hand. "Our boys."
You can barely speak around the lump in your throat. George looks radiant, his second win of the season perhaps the sweetest. And Lewis… Lewis is beaming with genuine joy for his teammate, even as his eyes glisten with unshed tears. His last podium in Vegas as a Mercedes driver.
Your father stands tall beside you, his usual stoic expression softened by emotion. As the champagne starts flowing, you catch sight of Max making his way toward the Red Bull garage, where you know the championship celebrations are about to begin.
"Go," your father says suddenly.
You turn to him, surprised. "What?"
"Go celebrate with Max." His voice is gentle. "It's his fourth championship. You should be there."
"But…" you glance at the podium, at your Mercedes family celebrating.
"We've shared every celebration with you," Susie says softly. "Let him have this one."
"Are you sure?" You look at your father. "Papa?"
Toto's eyes are warm as he cups your face in his hands. "For three years, you couldn't celebrate with him. Couldn't share his victories. Couldn't be by his side when he achieved his dreams." He kisses your forehead. "Go make up for lost time, Schatz."
"But Lewis and George…"
"Will understand." Toto smiles. "Besides, I think Lewis would be disappointed if you didn't go congratulate your boyfriend on his championship."
As if on cue, Lewis catches your eye from the podium and nods toward the Red Bull garage, mouthing "Go!"
Tears spill over as you hug your parents. "I love you both so much."
"We know," Susie strokes your hair. "Now go. Make your man's celebration complete."
You run through the paddock, your heart pounding. The Red Bull garage is already in full celebration mode when you arrive. Christian sees you first, and instead of any awkwardness, he just smiles and points toward the back room.
You find Max there, surrounded by his team but somehow looking like he's waiting for something - or someone. When he sees you, his entire face lights up.
"Baby," he breathes, and then you're in his arms, his race suit damp with champagne, his heart beating fast against yours.
"Congratulations, four-time world champion," you whisper against his neck.
He pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes shining. "You came."
"Of course I came." You touch his face, memorizing this moment. "Papa and Susie practically pushed me out the door."
Max's eyes widen slightly. "Really?"
"Really." You smile through your tears. "Papa said we had three years of celebrations to make up for."
Something vulnerable crosses Max's face. "I used to dream about this," he admits quietly, despite the noise around you. "Every championship, every win… I'd imagine you here, celebrating with me. But I never thought…"
"That my father would be the one sending me to you?"
"Yeah." Max laughs softly. "Things really have changed, haven't they?"
"For the better." You kiss him softly, not caring who sees. "I'm so proud of you, Max. So incredibly proud."
He presses his forehead to yours. "Stay? Celebrate with us?"
"Wild horses couldn't drag me away."
"Good." His smile turns mischievous. "Because I have three years of championship celebrations to make up for, and I plan to make this one count."
From somewhere behind you, you hear Jos' voice: "Max! The championship photo!"
"Coming!" Max calls back, then looks at you. "Join us?"
You blink. "In the Red Bull championship photo?"
"Why not?" His eyes are bright with joy and love. "You're part of this story too. Always have been."
The photographer arranges everyone, and Max pulls you close to his side. Here, under the neon lights of Vegas, surrounded by celebrations both here and in the garage next door, you feel the weight of the moment. The past - three years of separation, of watching from afar. The present - standing proudly by his side as he achieves another dream. And the future - stretching out before you both, full of possibilities.
"Ready?" Max whispers in your ear.
You look up at him, this man who never stopped loving you even when the world tried to keep you apart, and smile. "Ready."
The camera flashes, capturing the moment forever - the four-time world champion and the girl who crossed rival lines to love him, surrounded by celebration and joy, making up for all the moments they missed and creating new ones all their own.
In the distance, you hear the Mercedes celebration continuing, George and Lewis' laughter carrying through the night. Two families, two celebrations, and you finally allowed to be part of both.
Melbourne, 2025
"YN, we need to check something at the track," Max says casually as you're getting ready for bed.
"At this hour? It's past midnight."
"Trust me?" He gives you that same boyish grin that still makes your heart skip, even after a decade.
You're both jet-lagged anyway, so you agree. But instead of heading to Albert Park, Max drives to a familiar hotel. Your breath catches when you realize where you are.
"Max…"
"Come on," he takes your hand, leading you through the quiet lobby to the coffee shop where it all began. The lights are dimmed, but it's clearly open - though completely empty.
"How did you…?"
"Being a four-time world champion has some perks," he grins. "Plus, the owner remembered us. Said she never forgot the night the youngest F1 driver and Toto Wolff's daughter had their secret meeting here."
The same table is there, the one where you shared your hot chocolate ten years ago. There's even a steaming mug waiting.
"You were so smug," Max laughs, pulling out your chair. "Letting me ramble about being a driver when you knew exactly who I was."
"You were cute when you were flustered," you tease. "Especially when I dropped my last name."
"I couldn't believe it. Here I was, trying to impress this beautiful girl, and she turned out to be my biggest rival's daughter."
You take a sip from the mug - hot chocolate, just like that night. "Papa wouldn't stop talking about you."
"And now he's my biggest defender," Max shakes his head in wonder. "Remember how scared we were to tell him about us?"
"Worth it though," you squeeze his hand. "Every secret meeting, every careful distance in the paddock, every time we had to pretend we were just friendly acquaintances."
Max's eyes go soft. "You know what I remember most about that first night? You were the first person who didn't treat me like I was either Jos's son or some record-breaking novelty. You just… saw me."
"I still do," you whisper.
He stands suddenly, pulling you up with him. "That night, I was terrified about my first race. Everyone had opinions about whether I deserved to be here. But then there was this girl, sharing her hot chocolate and making me feel like maybe I could actually do this."
"Max…"
He drops to one knee, and your heart stops. "Ten years ago, in this exact spot, I met the love of my life. I didn't know it then, but that girl who kept her name secret until the last possible moment would become my biggest supporter, my best friend, my home."
Through your tears, you see him pull out a ring. "You've been there through everything, YN. Every victory, every defeat. When the pressure got too much, when the critics were too loud - you were my safe place. Just like you were that first night."
"Remember what you told me then? That your intuition said I'd do great?" He laughs softly. "You believed in me before anyone else did. And I want to spend the rest of my life believing in you, supporting you, loving you."
"YN Wolff," his voice cracks slightly. "Will you marry me? Will you keep being my safe place, my biggest supporter, my best friend? Will you let me spend forever trying to make you as happy as you've made me?"
Through your tears, you see the same boy from that late-night coffee shop - still determined, still passionate, still looking at you like you're his whole world. But now he's also the man who's grown with you, fought for you, loved you through everything.
"Yes," you manage, pulling him up to kiss him. "Yes to everything."
As he slides the ring onto your finger, Max pulls you close, and you can smell the same coffee shop scent that surrounded you ten years ago. "Thank you for sharing your hot chocolate that night," he murmurs against your hair.
"Thank you for making me believe in intuition," you reply, feeling the weight of the ring - a promise of all the years to come.
Outside, Melbourne sleeps, just like it did that first night. But now, instead of two strangers sharing a drink and their fears, there's you and Max, sharing a future.
And it feels like coming home.
tags: @mimiteller712 @lydia-demarek, @rory-cakes, @swaggymadi, @chriskevinevans @p7-otterton, @cherrystars81, @whokilledmarlene @lilymaleshka @kodeelynn @formoola1fan @pausmoon @lalala28 @baby-alien11 @allthings-fandoms @downsideup1989 @urbaebarnes @ivegotparticulartaste @liethatyouloveme @codymthepenguin @finn-dot-com @rayaskoalaland @angelluv16 @pourmercymercy0nme @tweetledeedumb @osclerc @scientifichufflepuff @cometpiastri @hobiismyhopeu @monsterdesandia @amyelevenn @damonsalvatorelikessex @rmvb @virtualperfectioncat @emma-chiara @chelle1306 @idontknow0704 @lilypat @elieanana @nothaqks @1800-love-me
but daddy i love him, part one - mv1
summary: in the world of formula 1, where competition runs deep and loyalties are tested, yn wolff and max verstappen found themselves caught in the middle . as the daughter of mercedes team principal and the rising red bull star, they must navigate the balance between rivalries and love. wc: 17k
folkie radio: HERE. IT. IS. FINALLY !!!!!!!! as i've stated before i'm absolutely terrified of posting this, this is my longest fic ever and different from what i've done before. i know it's a long read but i'm really proud of it and i think it's worth it. IN THIS FIC MORE THAN ANY OTHER. I ENCOURAGE YOU TO LEAVE FEEDBACK.
DISCLAIMER: as stated in the title THIS IS PART ONE!!! part two is ready in my drafts and will be posted shortly (in a week tops). i'll stop talking now. BUCKLE UP AND ENJOY (and please leave feedback okay)
Melbourne, 2015
The hotel lobby is quiet at this hour - that strange liminal space between late night and early morning when most reasonable people are asleep. But you've never been great at reasonable, and jet lag has your body clock completely scrambled.
That's how you end up in the hotel's deserted coffee shop at 1 AM, nursing a hot chocolate and trying to calm your nerves about tomorrow.
You're so lost in thought you don't notice someone else enter until they speak.
"They're still open?"
You look up and your heart skips. Of course you recognize him immediately - Max Verstappen, the 17-year-old prodigy your father hasn't stopped talking about for months. "The next big thing," Papa had said, watching testing footage. "He's going to shake up the whole paddock, just watch."
"Sort of," you gesture to your drink, trying to keep your voice casual. "The barista took pity on me. Said she'd make one last drink before closing."
He glances at the now-dark counter and sighs. Up close, he looks even younger than in the photos you've seen, but there's something in his eyes - a fierce determination that makes you understand why everyone's been talking about him.
"Here," you push your barely-touched hot chocolate towards him. "I'm not really drinking it anyway."
He hesitates. "You sure?"
"Yeah. Probably shouldn't have caffeine at this hour anyway."
He sits across from you, taking a careful sip. "Thanks. I'm Max."
I know, you think. Everyone knows. The youngest F1 driver in history, Jos Verstappen's son, the rookie everyone's watching.
"You're not from around here," you note his accent, playing along with the pretense that you don't know exactly who he is.
"Neither are you," he grins, and something warm flutters in your stomach. His smile transforms his whole face, makes him look his age.
"Fair point. Here for the Grand Prix?"
"You could say that." He studies you, and you wonder if he can hear your heart racing. "You?"
"Something like that." You're enjoying this little game more than you probably should.
"Cryptic."
You laugh. "Says the equally cryptic stranger."
"Okay, okay." He takes another sip. "I'm one of the new drivers. Toro Rosso."
You try to hide your smile. You've watched every clip of his testing sessions, heard every conversation your father has had about his potential. "Ah. The youngest F1 driver in history. That must be a lot of pressure."
He shrugs, but you can see the tension in his shoulders, the weight of expectations already heavy on him. You know that weight - you've carried your own version of it your whole life.
"Everyone keeps saying that."
"Scared?"
"No," he answers too quickly, then sighs. "Maybe a little. You won't tell anyone I said that, right?"
There's something vulnerable in his admission that makes your heart ache. Behind all the hype and headlines, he's just a boy on the verge of something enormous.
"Your secret's safe with me." You lean back. "For what it's worth, I think you'll do great."
"You sound pretty confident for someone who just met me."
If only he knew how many hours you'd spent watching his karting videos. How many times you'd heard your father say "That Verstappen boy is going to change everything."
"Let's call it intuition."
He laughs - a genuine, unguarded sound that makes your pulse quicken. "You're different."
"Different good or different bad?"
"Just… different." He finishes the hot chocolate. "Most people, when they find out who I am, they either get weird about it or start asking about Jos."
"Your father?"
He nods, and you see a flicker of something in his eyes - the same shadow you sometimes get when people mention Toto.
"Well, I know a thing or two about father-related pressure, so…"
"Yeah?" He looks interested. "What does your father do?"
You check your watch, knowing it's time to end this little charade. "Oh wow, is that the time? I should probably head up."
"Wait," he stands as you do. "I didn't catch your name."
You pause at the door, turning back with a small smile, savoring what you know will be his reaction. "I'm YN Wolff."
His eyes widen. "Wolff? As in…"
"See you in the paddock, Max Verstappen."
You leave him standing there, but not before catching his surprised laugh. Your heart is racing as you walk away - from the deception, from his smile, from the way his eyes had lit up when he laughed.
The next morning, you spot him in the paddock. He does a double-take when he sees you with the Mercedes team, then grins and shakes his head. You're wearing your team kit now, no more pretending to be just another girl in a hotel coffee shop.
"Cryptic stranger," he mouths at you as he passes.
You just smile, trying to ignore how your stomach flips when he winks at you.
Neither of you could have known then - in that quiet hotel coffee shop at 1 AM - that this was the beginning of something that would change your lives.
Singapore, 2015
The paddock is eerily quiet now, the usual chaos of race day reduced to a whisper of distant maintenance and soft lighting. You're sitting on one of the team benches, the night air cool against your skin. Max is close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from him, close enough that the line between friendship and something more feels increasingly blurred.
It wasn't a sudden thing, this connection with Max. It had been a slow burn, a gradual unraveling that began that night in the hotel coffee shop and grew through stolen moments between races, brief conversations in crowded paddocks, and late-night messages that became increasingly frequent.
At first, it was simple curiosity. You'd catch each other's eye across the paddock, exchange a knowing smile. Then came the texts - random observations about races, inside jokes about team dynamics, comments that walked the line between friendly and flirtatious. Max had a way of making you laugh like no one else could, his wit sharp and unexpected.
He nudges you playfully. "So, daughter of the most powerful team principal in Formula 1. Must be interesting."
You roll your eyes, but there's a smile tugging at your lips. "Not as glamorous as you might think."
"Oh?" He raises an eyebrow. "Try me."
You pause, considering. The weight of your father's reputation is something you've carried your entire life - a constant backdrop to every interaction, every moment.
"Imagine," you say slowly, "having every conversation potentially recorded, every interaction analyzed. One wrong move and it's not just about you, but about your family's reputation."
Max's expression shifts. There's understanding there - he knows something about familial expectations, about the pressure of carrying a name.
"My father," he says quietly, "Jos Verstappen. Not exactly a walk in the park."
The vulnerability in his voice catches you off guard. These moments have become more frequent - brief windows where the polished racing personas fall away, revealing something raw and real.
"Tell me," you prompt softly.
He takes a deep breath. "Constant pressure. Every race, every test, every moment - it's like I'm living not just for myself, but for some expectation he's created. Sound familiar?"
You laugh, but it's a sound tinged with something harder. Sadness. Recognition. "Absolutely."
Your conversations have been like this lately - layers peeling back, revealing something raw and real beneath the polished exterior of Formula 1.
"Sometimes," Max continues, "I wonder if I'm racing for myself or for the legacy everyone else wants me to create."
Before you can respond, a voice cuts through the night. "Little Wolff?"
Lewis approaches, his team kit still impeccable despite the late hour. His eyes narrow when he sees Max, taking in your proximity.
Lewis had been a constant in your life long before Max entered the picture. Since joining Mercedes, he'd taken on a role that was part mentor, part protective older brother. It wasn't an official designation, but in the Mercedes family, it might as well have been law.
Lewis knew everything about you - your hopes, your fears and everything in between. He was more than just your father's driver. He was family.
"Oh," Lewis says, a mix of surprise and something else - protection, wariness. "Verstappen."
Max stands immediately. "I was just leaving," he says quickly, a touch of nervousness breaking through his usual confidence. "See you around."
As Max walks away, Lewis turns to you, his protective big brother persona fully activated. "What," he says slowly, "was that about?"
You start walking together, the paddock lights casting long shadows. Lewis' stride is purposeful, matching yours.
"Nothing," you say, but the word sounds unconvincing even to your own ears, "He's my friend."
"Friend," he says, uncertainty in his voice, "Just be careful, okay? Things are never that simple in this paddock" he'd said, and you knew he meant more than just about Max.
You said nothing. But you heard him. You always did.
Barcelona, 2016
The champagne sparkles in the late afternoon sun as you watch from a secluded corner of the paddock. You smile as you watch Max on that podium - the youngest winner in Formula 1 history. Your smile is wide, uncontrolled, and you're grateful for the relative privacy of your spot. If anyone noticed that your eyes never left Max, that your smile was meant only for him, they didn't say.
You remember the first time you saw him race, really race - not just in videos or testing. The raw talent, the fearlessness that made your breath catch. Over the past year, you'd watched him grow from that confident teenager in the Melbourne coffee shop into someone who commanded respect on track. And somewhere along the way, between stolen moments in the paddock and late-night conversations, he'd become so much more than just another driver.
The past year had been a dance of almost-moments and careful distances. Shared glances across crowded rooms, text messages that made you smile at 3 AM, touches that lingered just a second too long. You'd both known the complications, the impossibility of it all - the Mercedes team principal's daughter and Red Bull's rising star. It was like a modern Romeo and Juliet, except instead of warring families, it was competing Formula 1 teams.
Later that evening, you stand in your father's office doorway, heart hammering but determined. Toto is absorbed in post-race papers, reading glasses perched on his nose, looking every bit the formidable team principal even hours after the race.
"Papa?"
He looks up, his expression softening slightly at the sight of you. "Yes, Schatz?"
"I'm going out," you say, trying to keep your voice casual while mentally rehearsing your prepared explanation.
Toto's eyebrows rise slightly. "Out?"
"With some friends," you elaborate, grateful for years of practice at maintaining your composure under his scrutiny. "To celebrate the race."
He sets his papers down, removing his glasses. "Friends from the team?"
Your heart skips. "Just… friends from the paddock," you say carefully. "Daniel invited me."
"Ricciardo?" His tone sharpens slightly.
"He's always been nice to me," you reason, which isn't a lie. Daniel has been a friend since his early days, always treating you like a friend rather than just the boss' daughter.
Toto studies you for a long moment, and you force yourself to meet his gaze steadily, even as your pulse races. You've always been close to your father - he's been your hero, your guide, your biggest supporter. The weight of potentially disappointing him sits heavy in your chest.
"Be careful," he finally says, though his tone suggests he's not entirely convinced. "You know how complicated things can be in this world."
"I know, Papa," you say softly. "I'll be careful. Promise."
Getting into the Red Bull celebration is easier than expected, thanks to Daniel's help. He meets you at a side entrance, his trademark grin wider than usual.
"Looking good, Wolff," he winks, pulling you into a quick hug. "Though I'm pretty sure your dad would kill me if he knew I was helping you sneak in."
"What he doesn't know won't hurt him," you say, trying to ignore the guilt that accompanies the words.
"Just…" Daniel's expression turns serious for a moment. "Be careful, yeah? With Max. He's my teammate and you're like my sister, and I don't want either of you getting hurt."
You're saved from responding by the noise of the party as he leads you inside. The atmosphere is electric - the joy of Max's first win filling the air along with music and laughter.
When Max spots you, his eyes widen, champagne glass freezing halfway to his lips. The surprise on his face quickly melts into something softer, more private. He excuses himself from his group and makes his way over, that familiar smirk playing on his lips - the one that never fails to make your heart skip.
"Should I be worried about Mercedes spies in our midst?" he teases, but his eyes are soft, drinking you in.
"You know me," you counter, matching his playful tone while trying to ignore how good he looks in his race winner's shirt, "I live for trouble."
"That you do, Wolff." He steps closer, just slightly, but enough to make your breath catch. "I didn't think you'd come."
"And miss your first win celebration? Never." You mean it to sound light, teasing, but your voice comes out softer, more sincere than intended.
"Still can't believe it," he says, shaking his head with a boyish grin that makes him look his age for once. "My first win."
"I can," you reply, taking a sip of champagne. "I've seen how you drive. It was only a matter of time."
He looks at you with an intensity that makes your heart stutter. "You've been watching me drive, then?"
"Someone has to keep an eye on the competition," you tease, but you can feel the heat rising in your cheeks.
"Is that what I am? Competition?" He moves closer, and suddenly the music seems far away.
"Among other things." Your voice comes out breathier than intended.
The conversation flows easily between you, as it always has. You talk about the race, about his incredible overtakes, about the moment he realized he was going to win. His eyes light up when he describes the feeling of crossing the finish line, and you find yourself caught between admiring his passion and getting lost in the way his hands move as he talks.
As the night progresses, the party gets louder, more crowded. Max notices you glancing around at the growing crowd.
"Want to get some air?" he asks, nodding toward a door that leads to a quieter area.
You follow him to a private terrace overlooking the city. The music is muffled here, and the night air is cool on your skin. You lean against the railing, city lights twinkling below.
"Better?" he asks, standing close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from him.
"Much." You turn to face him, drawn in by the way the lights play across his features. "Though I have to say, you throw quite a party for a rookie winner."
He laughs, the sound low and warm. "Rookie? I've been racing since before I could walk."
"Oh right, I forgot - Max Verstappen, born in a go-kart," you tease, making him smile wider.
"You're impossible, you know that?" He shakes his head, but his eyes are fond.
"Part of my charm," you counter, feeling bold in the privacy of the moment.
"Is that what you call it?" He's even closer now, close enough that you can see the flecks of gold in his eyes.
"Would you rather I was predictable?" You raise an eyebrow, challenging.
"Never." His voice drops lower, sending shivers down your spine. "Predictable is boring. And you, YN Wolff, are anything but boring."
The tension between you is electric, years of carefully maintained distance crumbling in this quiet moment. Your heart is racing so fast you wonder if he can hear it.
"Well," you say, stepping into his space until there's barely a breath between you, "I think the winner deserves a reward."
Before you can second-guess yourself, you're kissing him. It's everything and nothing like you imagined - soft at first, tentative, like you're both afraid of breaking something precious. Then his hand comes up to cup your face, and the kiss deepens, becomes more urgent. You can taste champagne on his lips, feel the solid warmth of him against you. Your fingers curl into his shirt, anchoring yourself as the world spins around you.
It's a perfect moment, suspended in time, until he pulls back slightly, resting his forehead against yours.
"You're trouble, Wolff," he murmurs against your lips, but he's smiling that smile that makes your heart flip. "Beautiful trouble."
"Scared?" you challenge softly, echoing your first conversation in Melbourne.
"Terrified," he admits, his thumb tracing your cheekbone. "But in a good way."
You stay at the party longer than you should, caught in Max's orbit. Every smile, every touch, every shared look feels charged with possibility. But reality crashes back hours later when you return.
Your dad is waiting, his expression thunderous in a way you've rarely seen directed at you. Your stomach drops as soon as you see him, the lingering warmth from Max's kisses turning to ice in your veins.
"Would you like to explain," he says slowly, each word precise and controlled, "why did I receive a call informing me that my daughter was at a Red Bull celebration?"
"Papa, I-" you start, but he cuts you off with a sharp gesture.
"Don't." His voice is hard. "Don't try to fool me. I've seen you with Max Verstappen."
The silence stretches between you, heavy with unspoken words. You want to defend yourself, explain that Max isn't just the Red Bull driver he sees, that there's more to him.
"Do you have any idea," he continues, "what position this puts me in? Puts the team in?"
"It's not about the teams," you say quietly, finding your voice. "It's just-"
"Just what?" he challenges. "Just you and him? Nothing is ever just anything in Formula 1, YN. Every action has consequences. Every relationship has implications."
"That's not fair."
"Fair?" He laughs, but there's no humor in it. "This sport isn't about fair. It's about winning. About loyalty. About trust." He pauses, letting the words sink in. "How can I trust you to put the team first when you're sneaking around with our biggest rival?"
The words hit you like a physical blow. "I would never betray the team," you whisper, hurt that he could even think that.
"Maybe not intentionally," he says, his voice softening slightly. "But this… whatever this is with Max Verstappen… it can't continue. I won't tell you again. Stay away from him."
You want to argue more, to make him understand. But you recognize the finality in your father's tone, the immovable force that has made him such a successful team principal. In this world of racing and rivalry, some lines aren't meant to be crossed.
As you leave, you touch your lips, still feeling the ghost of Max's kiss. Your phone buzzes - a message from Max: "Worth the trouble?"
You stare at the screen, tears threatening to fall. Sometimes the biggest crashes in Formula 1 aren't on the track at all. Sometimes they're in the space between what your heart wants and what the sport demands.
Germany, 2016
The German summer air is thick with tension. You can feel it crackling through the paddock like electricity before a storm. Nico and Lewis' rivalry has turned the Mercedes garage into a pressure cooker, and your father's stress is palpable. Being around him feels like walking on eggshells, which makes your secret meetings with Max even more dangerous.
You've gotten good at this dance over the past few months - stolen moments between practice sessions, hidden corners of the paddock, coded messages about "casual meetings" that are anything but casual. Every stolen kiss feels like a victory and a risk all at once.
The sun is setting over Hockenheim when you slip behind the Red Bull motorhome, your heart racing with the familiar mix of excitement and fear. Max is already there, leaning against the wall with that cocky smile that still makes your stomach flip.
"Cutting it close, Wolff," he murmurs as you approach. "Your father's been prowling the paddock all day."
"Worried?" you tease, even as you glance around to ensure you're alone.
His answer is to pull you against him, one hand sliding to your waist while the other cups your face. "About your father? Always. About this? Never."
The kiss is heated from the start - months of practice have taught you both exactly how to make each other breathless. His thumb traces your jawline as he deepens the kiss, and you press closer, fingers curling into his team shirt. You love how solid he feels against you, how his breath catches when you bite gently at his lower lip.
"You're going to get me in trouble," he whispers against your mouth, but his smile suggests he doesn't mind at all.
"You love trouble," you remind him, trailing kisses along his jaw.
His hands tighten on your waist. "I love-" he starts, but cuts himself off, choosing instead to capture your lips again in a kiss that makes you forget everything else.
You lose track of time, lost in the taste of him, the feel of his hands on your skin, the way he whispers your name like a prayer. It's dangerous and perfect and everything you shouldn't want but can't resist.
A sound makes you both freeze. You pull apart quickly, straightening your clothes, but it's too late.
Jos Verstappen stands at the corner of the motorhome, his expression dark and unreadable. Your blood runs cold at the sight of him.
"I… I should go," you manage, your voice shaky. Max's hand brushes yours briefly - a small comfort - before you hurry past his father, avoiding his stern gaze.
Behind you, you can hear Jos' voice, low and harsh in Dutch, but you don't stop to listen. Your heart is pounding as you make your way back to the paddock, wondering if this is the moment everything falls apart.
Max stands his ground as his father's disapproval fills the space between them.
"What do you think you're doing?" Jos demands in Dutch, his voice controlled but sharp. "The Wolff girl? Have you lost your mind?"
"It's not what you think-" Max starts, but Jos cuts him off.
"It's exactly what I think. You're letting yourself get distracted. By a Mercedes girl, no less. Toto Wolff's daughter?" Jos steps closer, his presence intimidating despite Max now being taller than him. "You're just starting to prove yourself in Formula 1. This is when you need to focus more than ever."
"I am focused," Max argues. "My results prove that."
"For now." Jos' voice turns cold. "But girls like that, from families like that - they're nothing but distractions. She'll get in your head, make you soft. And then what? You think Toto Wolff wants his daughter with a Red Bull driver? You think this ends well?"
Max clenches his jaw, fighting back the urge to defend you, to explain that you're different, that you understand the sport as well as he does. But he knows his father won't listen.
"Stay away from her," Jos says finally, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Focus on what matters. On winning and being champion. That's what we've worked for all these years. Don't throw it away for some girl."
The words hit harder than Max wants to admit, echoing his own doubts, his own fears about what this thing with you means. But he can't forget the way you look at him like you see past the racer, past the name, to who he really is.
Jos leaves him there in the growing darkness, with only the weight of expectations and the lingering taste of your kiss on his lips.
Monaco, May 2017
Another year, another dance of stolen moments and secret smiles. If anything, the warnings and opposition have only made whatever this is between you and Max more intense. Like a forbidden drug, each stolen moment leaves you craving more, even as the risks grow higher.
"This is a terrible idea," Max whispers as you pull him through your back door, "Your dad is literally upstairs."
"He's dead asleep," you assure him, carefully closing the door. "He took sleeping pills for his flight tomorrow. Besides, he sleeps like the dead anyway."
Max still looks like he's ready to bolt at any second. "YN, if he catches me here-"
"He won't." You tug him closer by his shirt. "Unless you keep talking so loud."
He glances nervously at the stairs. "Your room is up there? Past his?"
"Scared, Verstappen?"
"Terrified, actually." But he follows you anyway, both of you carefully avoiding the creaky third step you'd mapped out years ago during teenage sneaking attempts.
You're almost at your door when Max freezes. "Was that-"
"Just the house settling," you whisper, but your heart is racing too. "Come on, we're almost-"
A door opens down the hall.
Max actually whimpers. You shove him into your room just as Toto's voice calls out, "YN? Is that you?"
"Just getting water, Papa!" you call back, praying your voice sounds normal. "Go back to sleep."
"Everything okay?"
"Fine! Those pills should be kicking in, right?"
A yawn. "Ja, starting to feel them. Goodnight, Schatz."
"Night, Papa!"
You wait until you hear his door close before slipping into your room. You find Max standing perfectly still in the middle of the floor, looking absolutely terrified.
"I think I'm having a heart attack," he announces in a whisper. "I'm actually having a heart attack. I can see the headlines now: 'F1 Driver Dies of Fear in Team Principal's House.'"
You try not to laugh. "You're being dramatic."
"Dramatic?" His voice rises slightly before he catches himself. "YN, your father was ten feet away from me. Ten feet! Do you know what he would do to me if he found me here?"
"Well, first he'd probably have a heart attack himself-"
"Not helping!"
"Then probably murder you-"
"Still not helping!"
"And Lewis would hide the body-"
"Why did I agree to this?" He runs his hands through his hair. "I'm a professional athlete. I have championships to win. I can't die in Toto Wolff's house because his daughter is too pretty to say no to."
You wrap your arms around his neck, grinning. "You think I'm pretty?"
"I think you're trying to kill me." But his hands settle on your waist automatically. "If your father walks in right now-"
"He won't."
"But if he does-"
"Max." You kiss him softly. "Stop talking about my father when you're in my bedroom."
"Missed you," he murmurs against your mouth, hands already sliding under your shirt. "Watching you in the paddock all day, not being able to touch you…"
You smile against his lips. "Poor baby. Must be so hard being professional."
He responds by lifting you up, making you laugh as he carries you toward your bed. "You have no idea."
Hours later, you're tangled in your sheets, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your bare skin. The city's lights cast shadows across his face, making him look older than his twenty years.
"We should sleep," you say, even as you press closer to him. "You have meetings tomorrow."
"Meetings are overrated," he mumbles into your hair, but you can hear the smile in his voice.
"Says the guy who's already breaking records." Your fingers trail down his chest. "Future world champion can't skip meetings."
He catches your hand, bringing it to his lips. "Future world champion can do whatever he wants."
You fall asleep like that, wrapped in each other, pretending the world outside doesn't exist. But morning comes too soon, sunlight streaming through your windows and your alarm blaring way too early.
Max groans, burying his face in your neck. "Five more minutes."
"You said that twenty minutes ago," you remind him, even as you run your fingers through his hair. "You're already going to be late, and my father is still next room, remember?"
He lifts his head, giving you that boyish grin that still makes your heart skip. "Worth it."
But reality can't be held at bay forever. Max rushes to get dressed, stealing kisses between looking for his scattered clothes. You watch from your bed, sheet wrapped around you, trying to memorize how he looks in the morning light.
"Tonight?" he asks, pausing at your bedroom door.
"Text me," you say, and he gives you one last smile before he's gone.
Max is still smiling when he arrives at the Red Bull office, nearly an hour late for his morning meeting. The smile dies on his lips when he sees his father waiting outside, arms crossed and expression thunderous.
"You were with that girl weren't you? Nothing's changed" Jos demands without preamble, switching to Dutch.
"I was just-"
"Don't lie to me." Jos' voice is low, dangerous. "Are you trying to destroy everything we've worked for?"
"I'm not destroying anything," Max argues, frustration creeping into his voice. "My results-"
"Your results could be better," Jos cuts him off. "You could be focused on becoming champion instead of sneaking around with Toto Wolff's daughter. Do you think this is a game?"
"It's not a game-"
"Then what is it?" Jos steps closer, his presence still intimidating despite Max being taller now. "Love?" He spits the word like it's poison. "You think love wins championships? You think that girl is worth throwing away everything we've sacrificed for?"
Max clenches his jaw, the weight of years of his father's expectations pressing down on him. "I can handle both-"
"No." Jos' voice is final, absolute. "You can't. And you won't. This ends now. Cut her off."
"Or what?" The words slip out before Max can stop them, a rare challenge to his father's authority.
Jos' eyes turn cold. "Or I'll make sure Toto knows exactly what his precious daughter has been up to. How do you think that ends for her? For her relationship with her father? For her position in the paddock?"
The threat hangs in the air between them. Max feels his stomach turn to ice, knowing his father well enough to know this isn't an empty threat.
"Your choice, Max," Jos says, already turning away. "But make it soon. This distraction ends now, or there will be consequences. For everyone."
Max stands there long after his father leaves, the taste of your kisses still on his lips, now bitter with the weight of choices.
Monza, 2017
The Italian late summer heat feels suffocating as you finally corner Max behind the Ferrari motorhome - neutral territory. He's been dodging you since Hungary, responding to texts with one-word answers before stopping altogether. You've seen that look in his eyes when he spots you in the paddock - the way he quickly turns away, finds somewhere else to be.
"Hey stranger," you say, aiming for casual despite your racing heart. "Been a while."
He looks everywhere but at you, hands shoved deep in his pockets. "YN…" There's a warning in his voice that you choose to ignore.
"I've missed you," you continue, taking a step closer. "We haven't talked since-"
"We can't do this anymore." His words cut through the air like a knife.
You freeze, the practiced speech you'd prepared dying in your throat. "What?"
"This." He gestures vaguely between you, still not meeting your eyes. "Whatever this is. It has to stop."
"Just like that?" Your voice comes out steadier than you feel. "After everything?"
"I need to focus on racing." He sounds like he's reciting a rehearsed speech. "Just racing. No distractions."
The word 'distraction' hits you like a physical blow. "Is that what I am? A distraction?"
Finally, he looks at you, and for a moment you see something crack in his carefully constructed facade - pain, regret, something more. But then it's gone, replaced by a coldness you've never seen directed at you before.
"This was never going to work," he says flatly. "We both knew that. It'll only cause trouble - for you, for me, for our families. It's better to end it now."
You think about all the stolen moments, the late-night conversations, the way he'd look at you like you were the only person in a crowded room. All reduced to 'trouble'.
"Fine." You straighten your spine, channeling every ounce of Wolff pride you possess. "See you around, Max Verstappen."
You turn and walk away before he can respond, each step measured and controlled despite feeling like your world is crumbling. You make it all the way to the Mercedes motorhome before the tears start to fall.
You duck into what you think is an empty corner, trying to get yourself under control, when a familiar voice makes you jump.
"Little Wolff?"
Lewis stands there, concern etched across his features. He's known you since you were a kid, has watched you grow up in the paddock. In many ways, he's your brother.
"I'm fine," you say automatically, wiping at your eyes. "Just… allergies."
"Right," he says softly, not believing you for a second. "Because Monza is famous for its allergies."
A sob escapes before you can stop it, and suddenly Lewis is pulling you into a hug. You break down against his chest, all your carefully maintained composure crumbling.
"Hey, hey," he soothes, rubbing your back. "What happened? Who do I need to beat up?"
You laugh wetly against his shoulder. "Nobody. It's stupid. I'm stupid."
"You're one of the smartest people I know," he counters. "So whatever it is, it's not stupid."
You pull back slightly, wiping your eyes. "I just… I thought…" You shake your head. "It doesn't matter what I thought. Clearly I was wrong."
Understanding dawns in Lewis's eyes. He's not blind - he's probably noticed more than most about your relationship with Max, even if he's never mentioned it.
"Sometimes," he says carefully, "people make choices out of fear rather than what they really want. Especially in this world."
"He said I was a distraction," you whisper, the words still burning.
Lewis's expression hardens slightly. "He's young. And scared. And probably being pulled in a hundred different directions." He pauses. "Doesn't make it hurt any less though, does it?"
You shake your head, fresh tears threatening to fall.
"Come here." He pulls you into another hug. "For what it's worth, I think he's an idiot. But maybe this is for the best, he's not good for you."
You stay there for a while, letting Lewis comfort you, grateful for his presence and his wisdom. But you can't shake the image of Max's face, that moment when his mask slipped, and you'd seen the pain in his eyes. You wonder if Lewis is right - if this is really about fear rather than feeling.
But in the end, you suppose it doesn't matter. A choice is still a choice, even if it's made for the wrong reasons.
Monaco, Summer 2018
The bass thrums through your body as you down another shot, Lando cheering beside you. The club is packed - all of Monaco's elite young crowd mixed with racing's next generation. Your father would have an aneurysm if he saw you here, but that's half the fun.
"Another!" Lando shouts over the music, already signaling the bartender. He's technically too young to be here, but money and fame open most doors in Monaco.
"You're a bad influence, Norris," you laugh, but you don't stop him.
"Me?" He clutches his chest in mock offense. "I'm an angel. You're the one corrupting the youth."
"You're literally younger than me."
"Details, details." He hands you another shot. "To being young and irresponsible!"
You clink glasses with him, the alcohol burning pleasantly as it goes down. This is what you needed - no paddock politics, no disappointed looks from your father, no thoughts of…
"Oh shit," Lando says suddenly, following your gaze. "We can move to another section if you want."
Max has just walked in with a group of friends. He looks good - he always looks good - in dark jeans and a fitted black shirt. Your stomach does that familiar flip before you forcefully squash it down.
"Why should we move?" you say, perhaps a bit too loudly. "We were here first."
Lando gives you that knowing look he's perfected over the past year of friendship. "YN…"
"Don't start," you warn him. "I'm fine. It's fine. Ancient history."
"Right," he drawls. "That's why you drunk-called me crying about him last month."
"I did not!"
"'Lando,'" he mimics in a high voice, "'why doesn't he want meeeee?'"
You shove him playfully. "I hate you."
"You love me." He grins. "I'm your favorite driver now."
"You're not even in F1 yet."
"Yet!" He wraps an arm around your shoulders. "Next year though. Then I'll be beating your ex's ass on track."
"He's not my ex," you mutter. "We were never actually together, remember?"
"Right, just sneaking around making out for like a year and a half. Totally casual."
You're about to retort when movement catches your eye. Max is at the bar now, and there's a girl with him. Tall, blonde, model-beautiful. She's touching his arm, laughing at something he's saying, and he's leaning in close to hear her over the music.
"YN…" Lando's voice has that warning tone.
"I need another drink," you announce, turning back to the bar.
Three shots later, you're on the dance floor with Lando, trying to forget the scene playing out at the bar. But your eyes keep drifting over, watching as Max gets closer to the blonde, his hand now on her waist.
"Stop torturing yourself," Lando says in your ear.
"I'm not-" you start, but the words die in your throat as you watch Max lean down and kiss the girl.
Something inside you snaps. You scan the crowd, spotting a guy who's been eyeing you all night. He's good-looking enough - dark hair, nice smile, probably a trust fund kid like half the people here.
"YN," Lando tries to grab your arm, but you're already moving.
You approach the guy with purpose, channeling every ounce of confidence the alcohol has given you. "Want to dance?"
He looks surprised but pleased. "Absolutely."
You let him pull you close, perhaps closer than necessary. You can feel eyes on you - Lando's concerned ones, and maybe, just maybe, someone else's too.
The guy - you think he said his name was Alex or Alec - is a good dancer. His hands are respectful but firm on your hips as you move to the music. When he leans down to kiss you, you let him.
It's not a bad kiss. He knows what he's doing. But he doesn't taste right, doesn't feel right. His hands aren't calloused from racing. He doesn't smell like motor oil and expensive cologne. He's not… him
But you kiss him anyway. When you finally pull back from the kiss, Lando is at your elbow.
"I think we should head out," he says, glancing meaningfully at your nearly empty glass.
"I'm having fun," you protest, even as the room spins slightly. Alex-or-Alec's hands are still on your waist.
"YN." Lando's voice is firmer now. "Come on."
You turn back to Alex-or-Alec, pulling him down for another kiss. It's messy and desperate and you can taste the expensive whiskey on his breath. You're proving something, you think, though you're not sure what or to whom anymore.
Through the haze of alcohol and bass-heavy music, you hear a familiar voice.
"What the hell are you doing?"
Max is standing there, his face tight with anger. The blonde from earlier is nowhere to be seen, but there's another girl hovering behind him - brunette this time.
"Having fun," you say sweetly, pressing closer to Alex-or-Alec. "You should try it. Oh wait, you already are."
"You don't even know this guy," Max snaps.
"His name is Alex." You pause. "Or Alec."
"It's Adrian," the guy supplies helpfully.
"Whatever." Max steps forward. "You're drunk. You need to go home."
"And you need to mind your own business." You turn to Adrian with an exaggerated smile. "Want to get out of here?"
"YN," Lando pleads. "Don't."
"Sure," Adrian grins, clearly oblivious to the tension. "My place isn't far."
Max moves so fast you barely register it, suddenly between you and Adrian. "She's not going anywhere with you."
"Excuse me?" You push at his chest. "You don't get to decide that. You lost that right when you-" You cut yourself off, aware you're saying too much.
"When I what?" Max challenges, his eyes dark. "When I did exactly what you're doing right now?"
"No," you laugh, but it comes out bitter. "When you decided that sneaking around was fine until it wasn't. When you started showing up to every event with a new girl on your arm. When you-"
"YN," Lando tugs at your arm. "Not here."
You shake him off. "Go back to your girlfriend, Max. Or girlfriends. I lost count tonight."
"You're being ridiculous."
"And you're being a hypocrite." You grab Adrian's hand. "Let's go."
Max's hand closes around your wrist. "You're not leaving with him."
"Get your hands off me." Your voice is ice cold. "You don't get to play protective boyfriend when it suits you. Go find another model to add to your collection."
Something flashes in his eyes - hurt maybe, or anger. "Fine. Do what you want. You always do anyway."
"Exactly. I do what I want." You turn to Adrian. "Sorry, but I've changed my mind. Turns out I have standards."
You shake off Max's grip and push past him, heading for the exit. Lando hurries after you, already calling for a car.
"YN, wait-" Max calls after you.
"Go to hell, Verstappen."
Outside, the Monaco air is cool against your flushed skin. Lando wraps his jacket around your shoulders as tears start to fall.
"I hate him," you whisper.
"No, you don't." Lando pulls you into a hug. "That's the problem."
The morning sunlight streaming through the windows feels like actual daggers in your skull. You're nursing your third cup of coffee, wearing sunglasses indoors like the walking cliché you are, when your father's voice cuts through your hangover haze.
"Would you care to explain these?"
Toto slides his phone across the breakfast table. Your stomach drops as you see the photos - you dancing with Adrian, Max confronting you, your tearful exit with Lando. The Monaco nightlife paparazzi are relentless, and you were too drunk to notice them.
"Papa, I-"
"No." His voice is quiet but firm. That's worse than yelling. "This stops now, YN. This... rebellion phase of yours. It stops."
Lewis and Valtteri are suddenly very interested in their breakfast plates. Susie, your stepmother, places a gentle hand on your father's arm, but doesn't contradict him.
"It wasn't-"
"Wasn't what?" Toto's accent gets thicker when he's angry. "Wasn't you, drunk in a club, making headlines again? Wasn't you creating another PR nightmare for the team?"
Your head throbs. "I'm not part of the team."
"No? Then why does every tabloid headline read 'Mercedes Boss's Daughter in Club Drama with Red Bull Star'?"
You wince. Both at his words and at the volume.
"The drinking, the parties, the public scenes - it needs to stop." He leans forward. "You're not just any teenager, liebling. Everything you do reflects on this family, on this team."
"That's not fair."
"Life isn't fair." He softens slightly. "I know this past year has been... difficult."
You feel Lewis shift beside you. He knows - of course he knows. He's probably the only one at this table who knows the full story of you and Max.
"But this self-destructive behavior cannot continue." Your father's voice is final. "You're grounded."
"I'm twenty one!"
"And living on my yacht, in my house, representing my name." He raises an eyebrow. "Would you prefer to go back to boarding school?"
The threat lands. You sink lower in your chair.
"No, sir."
"Good." He turns to his own coffee. "No more clubs. No more parties. And for God's sake, no more scenes with Max Verstappen."
Your phone buzzes in your pocket. You know without looking it's probably Lando checking on you. Or worse, Max.
"YN." Your father's voice draws your attention back. "I mean it. Whatever is going on between you two... it ends now."
"Nothing is going on," you mutter.
"Then it should be easy to maintain distance."
Susie finally speaks up. "Why don't you come work with me for a while? Help with the She Moves Forward initiative?"
You know it's a peace offering - a way to keep you busy and out of trouble. But the thought of structured days and responsible tasks makes your hangover worse.
"Fine," you concede, if only to end this conversation.
Lewis nudges you under the table - a small gesture of solidarity. Valtteri offers a sympathetic smile.
"Good." Your father stands. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have damage control to handle."
After he leaves, Lewis slides a bottle of Advil towards you. "Here. You look like death."
"Thanks," you grumble, dry-swallowing two pills.
"He's right, you know," Lewis says quietly. "About Max."
"Not you too."
"YN." His voice is gentle. "You can't keep doing this to yourself. The drinking, the acting out - it's not going to make it hurt less."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Sure you don't." He stands, squeezing your shoulder. "Just... think about what you're really angry at. Because I don't think it's your father, or the team, or even Max."
"I'm going back to bed," you announce to no one in particular.
"Honey," Susie calls after you. "This doesn't have to be a punishment. Maybe it's an opportunity."
You pause at the door. "For what?"
"To figure out who you are without all the drama. Without..." she hesitates. "Without defining yourself by who you're trying to hurt."
You think about Max's face last night, about the girls he was with, about how none of it made you feel better.
"Yeah," you say quietly. "Maybe."
The air feels thick and oppressive as you stumble out of another club, the world spinning slightly. You're not entirely sure how you ended up here - after the disastrous night a few weeks ago, you'd promised yourself (and your father) that you were done with the party scene. But one text from Lando about needing to "get out" had quickly spiraled.
Except Lando had bailed last minute with food poisoning, and you'd gone anyway. Because you're nothing if not stubborn.
The familiar figure of Charles Leclerc materializes beside you. "YN? Are you okay?"
"Charles!" You throw your arms around him, nearly losing your balance. "My favorite Ferrari boy!"
He steadies you with practiced ease. "How much have you had to drink?"
"Lost count," you admit cheerfully. "But it's fine. Everything's fine."
Charles sighs, pulling out his phone. "I'm calling Lewis."
"No!" You grab for his phone but miss entirely. "Not Lewis. He'll tell Papa."
"Good. Maybe he should."
You slump against the wall, suddenly exhausted. "Everyone's so disappointed in me."
Charles' expression softens as he puts the phone to his ear. "We're worried, not disappointed."
Twenty minutes later, you hear the distinctive rumble of Lewis's car. He jumps out, concern etched on his face.
"YN? What were you thinking?"
"That alcohol makes feelings go away?" you offer weakly.
Lewis turns to Charles. "Thanks for calling me."
"Of course. Take care of her."
The ride home is quiet until Lewis finally speaks. "This has to stop."
"I know," you whisper.
"No, I mean it really has to stop. You're hurting yourself, and for what? To prove something to Max?"
"It's not about Max."
"Isn't it?"
You stare out the window, tears forming. "I need to get away from here."
"What do you mean?"
"The paddock, the drama, all of it." You turn to him. "I can't keep doing this. Being the Mercedes princess, the ex-whatever of Max Verstappen. I need… space."
Lewis is quiet for a moment. "Maybe that's not a bad idea. Take some time, figure out who you are away from all this."
"Will you help me convince Papa?"
"Yeah," he says softly. "I'll help. But you have to promise me - no more nights like this."
You nod, the weight of everything finally catching up to you. "I promise."
As Lewis helps you out of the car, you freeze. Toto is standing in the doorway, still in his sleeping clothes. Your stomach drops and fresh tears spring to your eyes - this is it, the final disappointment.
But instead of the anger you expect, your father simply opens his arms.
You practically fall into them, suddenly sobbing. "I'm so sorry, Papa. I'm so sorry."
"Shh," he soothes, holding you tight like he did when you were little. "You're alright, liebling. You're alright."
"I can't-" you hiccup against his chest. "I can't do this anymore. I need to get out of here."
"Out of where?"
"Monaco. The paddock. All of it." You pull back slightly to look at him. "I need space. To figure out who I am without… without all of this."
Toto exchanges a look with Lewis over your head. "I know," he says softly, surprising you. "I've seen it coming."
"You have?"
He cups your face in his hands, wiping away tears with his thumbs. "You're my daughter. Of course I have. I just needed you to realize it yourself."
"I'm tired, Papa," you whisper. "Of being the Mercedes princess, of the gossip, of seeing…" You trail off, but they all know what you mean. Who you mean.
"Then go," he says simply. "Find yourself. The paddock will still be here when you're ready."
"You're not mad?"
He laughs softly. "Oh, we'll discuss tonight's adventure when you're less drunk. But no, liebling. I'm not mad. Sometimes we need to step away to see things clearly."
Lewis steps forward, placing a hand on your shoulder. "We've got your back, little Wolff. Whatever you need."
Fresh tears fall as you're overwhelmed by their support. "I love you both so much."
"And we love you," Toto kisses your forehead. "Now, let's get you to bed. We can make plans tomorrow."
As they help you inside, you feel lighter somehow. Like maybe this isn't an ending, but a beginning. A chance to become someone new - or maybe to find who you've been all along, underneath the labels and expectations.
Austria, 2020
The familiar scent of rubber and fuel hits you as you step into the Mercedes garage for the first time in almost two years, your heart doing a little flip at being back after so long. Everything looks exactly the same, yet somehow different - or maybe you're the one who's different now.
"Little Wolff!" Lewis' voice booms across the garage before you're engulfed in a bone-crushing hug that lifts you off your feet. "Finally back where you belong!"
You laugh, squeezing him back just as tight. "You literally saw me at Christmas, Lewis!"
"That's not the same and you know it," he sets you down but keeps his hands on your shoulders, studying your face. "Christmas is family time. This," he gestures around the garage, "this is home."
Looking at him now, you can see the genuine joy in his eyes. Lewis has always been your second father, and these past two years, he's been your biggest cheerleader from afar, always sending encouraging messages when you were climbing mountains in Nepal or teaching English in Thailand.
"She's hardly been here five minutes and you're already monopolizing her, Lewis?" Your father's voice carries that familiar warmth that makes your chest tight with happiness. Your relationship with him has transformed during your time away - all those long phone calls and video chats where you really talked, not just about racing but about life, dreams, fears. Distance made you both realize what you'd been missing.
"Papa," you smile, walking into his open arms. He holds you close, pressing a kiss to your temple.
"Welcome home, liebling," he murmurs. "The garage hasn't been the same without you."
"I missed you too," you say, then pull back with a grin. "But I need to go see someone else before he thinks I've forgotten him entirely."
Toto laughs. "Go on then. Lando's been asking about you non-stop since he heard you were coming back."
You practically skip your way to the McLaren garage, your heart light. The past two years have given you perspective, helped you understand yourself better. You're not the angry, lost girl who fled Monaco anymore. You're stronger now, more sure of who you are outside of being "Toto Wolff's daughter" or "Max Verstappen's conquest."
"YN!" Lando's screech of delight echoes through the garage as he launches himself at you. "You're back, you're finally back!"
"I missed you so much, you idiot," you ruffle his hair, noting how he's grown even more into himself. He's not the shy rookie anymore - he's coming into his own as a driver.
"Group hug!" Carlos appears, wrapping his long arms around both of you. "Welcome back, pequeña. It's been too quiet without you here to keep this one in line."
"Oi!" Lando protests, but he's beaming.
You're in the middle of telling them about your adventures in Japan when movement catches your eye. Your words trail off as you see him - Max, walking past the garage with Christian. He's filled out more, shoulders broader, face more mature. Your heart does that familiar stutter-step it always did around him.
Two years haven't completely erased the memory of his hands on your skin, his laugh against your neck, the way he used to look at you like you were his entire world. First loves leave permanent marks, and Max Verstappen had branded himself onto your heart when you were both too young to understand the weight of it all.
He must feel your gaze because he turns, and for a moment, your eyes lock. There's something there - recognition, remembrance, maybe even regret. You see him swallow hard, his step faltering just slightly. But neither of you moves to bridge the gap.
You turn back to Lando and Carlos, forcing a smile, but your mind is still with that brief moment of eye contact. You're not that lovesick teenager anymore, but part of you wonders if you'll ever fully get over Max Verstappen. If anyone ever really gets over their first love, or if they just learn to live with the echo of what could have been.
"YN?" Lando's voice brings you back to the present. "You okay?"
You look at your friend's concerned face and give him a genuine smile this time. "Yeah, I am. Just… remembering."
Carlos squeezes your shoulder knowingly. "The past is the past, si? You're here now, that's what matters."
You nod, grateful for their understanding. You're not the same person who left two years ago, running from heartbreak and confusion. You're stronger now, wiser. Ready to write a new chapter.
Even if sometimes, just sometimes, you still feel the ghost of an old love story tugging at your heart.
Barcelona, 2020
The Barcelona night is warm and heavy with memories as you sit at the outdoor terrace of the restaurant. Daniel's telling some ridiculous story about a kangaroo, but your attention keeps drifting to the other end of the table where Max sits, deliberately positioned as far from you as possible.
Five years ago, you'd kissed him for the first time just a few streets from here. After his first win, giddy with freedom and teenage rebellion.
"So how was Bali?" Charles asks making your come back to your senses,"The surfing photos were insane."
"Almost died about twelve times," you laugh. "But worth it."
"She's exaggerating," Max comments casually, surprising everyone at the table. It's the first time he's directly addressed anything about your travels. "I saw the videos. Your form wasn't that bad."
You catch his eye across the table. "Been keeping tabs on me, Verstappen?"
He shrugs, a hint of that old smirk playing at his lips. "Hard not to when you're all over everyone's Instagram stories."
The tension at the table shifts slightly - not gone, but different. Lando kicks your foot under the table, raising an eyebrow when you look at him. You ignore him.
The conversation flows easier after that, stories and laughter bouncing around the table. You find yourself watching Max when he's not looking - the way he's grown into his features, how his laugh is deeper now, how he still runs his hand through his hair when he's trying not to smile.
As the night winds down, you end up being the last two waiting for cars. The others had filtered out gradually - Daniel dragging Charles off to some club, Lando claiming early training, Carlos heading home with his father.
"So," Max breaks the silence first, hands in his pockets. "Two years."
"Two years," you echo, leaning against the wall. "Feels longer sometimes."
"And shorter," he adds, then glances at you. "You look good. Happy."
"I am. Mostly." You study his profile in the streetlights. "You've changed too."
He laughs softly. "Had to grow up sometime, right? Can't be the paddock's problem child forever."
"No more sneaking around in garages?" The words slip out before you can stop them.
His eyes darken slightly at the memory. "Bit harder to get away with that these days. Plus, there hasn't been anyone worth the risk."
The weight of unspoken things hangs between you. All those stolen moments - behind motorhomes, in empty conference rooms, dark corners of victory parties. Never official, never acknowledged, but burning so bright it scared you both.
"Want to come up to my place?" he asks suddenly. "Just to talk. Properly. Without…" he gestures vaguely at the paddock world around you.
You should say no. But two years of distance have made you forget how magnetic he is, or maybe just made you brave enough to pretend you can resist it. "Okay."
The penthouse is exactly what you'd expect - sleek and modern, with a view that makes you catch your breath. You walk to the windows, Barcelona sprawling below like a constellation.
"Remember that night after your first win?" you ask softly. "When we snuck onto the roof?"
"Papa Wolff nearly had a heart attack," Max comes to stand beside you, close enough that your arms almost touch. "Worth it though."
"Was it?" You turn to look at him. "All of it? The sneaking around, the fights with our families, the constant hiding?"
"You know it was." His voice drops lower. "At least, it was for me."
"Max…"
"I've missed you," he admits quietly. "Not just… not just the physical stuff. I missed talking to you. Making you laugh. The way you'd roll your eyes every time I said something stupid in press conferences."
"I still do that," you smile despite yourself. "Some things don't change."
"Maybe they shouldn't." He steps closer, and suddenly you're eighteen again, heart racing at his proximity. "Maybe some things are worth holding onto."
When he kisses you, it feels like muscle memory. Your body remembers this dance - the way his hands find your waist, how he tastes like wine and possibilities. It's softer than the desperate kisses you used to share in dark corners, but somehow more dangerous for it.
You pull back first, breathing hard. "We can't."
"Why not?" His thumb traces your cheekbone. "We're not kids anymore. Who cares what anyone thinks?"
"I do," you step away, wrapping your arms around yourself. "I left to get away from this, Max. From sneaking around, from being the paddock scandal waiting to happen. I built a life where I'm not defined by who I'm secretly sleeping with or whose daughter I am."
"It wouldn't be like before-"
"Wouldn't it? The politics haven't changed. Our families still wouldn't approve."
"I don't care about any of that," he reaches for you but you step back.
"That's the problem," your voice cracks. "I had to live with all of it. The whispers, the judgment, watching my father's face every time there was another rumor about us. I can't go back to that."
"YN, please-"
"I should go." You grab your phone from the counter. "This was a mistake."
At the elevator, you turn back one last time. He's still by the window, silhouetted against the city lights. "For what it's worth," you say softly, "you were my first love. Maybe that's why we have to let it stay in the past."
The elevator doors close on his response, and you lean against the wall, heart pounding. Some part of you will probably always want Max Verstappen. But you've worked too hard to become your own person to let that want destroy everything again.
Even if walking away feels like leaving part of yourself behind.
Monaco, 2020
The yacht party is winding down, the late hour thinning out the crowd until somehow you find yourself alone on the upper deck. The Mediterranean breeze carries fragments of music and laughter from below, but up here it's quiet enough to hear your own thoughts - dangerous, when they all seem to revolve around him.
You hear his footsteps before you see him. You don't need to turn around to know it's Max - your body has always been attuned to his presence, like a compass finding north.
"Hiding?" His voice is soft as he comes to stand beside you at the railing.
"Just needed some air." It's not entirely a lie. "Shouldn't you be downstairs? This is your best friend's party."
"Daniel can handle it on his own," he shrugs, looking out at the harbor lights. "Needed some air too."
The silence that follows should be uncomfortable, but it isn't. That's the problem with Max - everything still feels as natural as breathing. Two years away hasn't changed how your body relaxes in his presence, how the air seems to crackle with possibility when he's near.
"Remember that party in Singapore?" he asks suddenly.
You smile despite yourself. "When we hid from Lewis for half of the night?"
"You were wearing that blue dress," he continues, and something in his voice makes your heart skip. "I couldn't take my eyes off you all night."
"Max…"
"I still can't," he admits quietly. "Even now. Even when I'm supposed to be focusing on other things, my eyes just… find you."
You grip the railing tighter. "We can't do this again."
"Can't we?" He turns to face you now. "Because ever since Barcelona, since that kiss…"
"That was a mistake."
"Was it?" He steps closer, and you fight the urge to move away. "Because it didn't feel like a mistake. It felt like coming home."
The words hit you right in the chest, because he's right. That's exactly what it felt like - like every cell in your body recognizing where it belonged.
"Nothing's changed," you say, but your voice wavers. "The politics, our families, the media…"
"Everything's changed," he counters. "We're not those kids anymore, sneaking around without putting a label on it because we didn't know better. I know exactly what I want now. Who I want."
"Max, please-"
"Two years, YN. Two years of watching you live your life through Instagram stories and paddock glimpses. Two years of trying to convince myself I was over you." His hand finds yours on the railing. "But the truth is, a part of me has belonged to you since that first night in Melbourne, and I don't think that's ever going to change."
You should pull your hand away. Instead, you turn it over, letting your fingers intertwine with his. "I tried so hard to become someone new," you whisper. "Traveled the world, built this whole independent life. But the moment I saw you again…"
"I know." His other hand comes up to cup your face, and you lean into the touch instinctively. "Because I felt it too."
"It scares me," you admit. "How easy it is to fall back into this. How right it feels when it should feel wrong."
"Maybe that's exactly why it isn't wrong." His thumb traces your cheekbone. "Maybe some things are just meant to be, despite everything else."
When he kisses you this time, it's different from Barcelona. That kiss had been hesitant, testing. This one feels like surrender, like finally stopping a fight you were always meant to lose. Your hands find his chest, feeling his heart racing under your palm, matching the erratic rhythm of your own.
He pulls back slightly, resting his forehead against yours. "I love you," he whispers. "You're the first girl I ever loved, and I think maybe you'll be the last. I know it's complicated, I know there are a million reasons why we shouldn't, but I don't care about any of them. I just want you."
You close your eyes, overwhelmed by the truth in his words, by how perfectly they mirror your own feelings. "I never stopped loving you," you confess. "I tried. God, I tried so hard. But it's like… it's like a part of me just belongs to you, and no amount of distance can change that."
"Then be with me," he pleads softly. "For real this time. No more running."
"How?" But you're already melting into him as he pulls you closer. "Nothing's changed, Max. My father would still lose it, Christian would still disapprove, the media would have a field day…"
"So we don't tell them." His hands slide to your waist. "We keep it between us. No sneaking around in garages this time, no risky moments in the paddock. Just us, in private, doing this properly."
You should say no. You know all the reasons why this can't work. But as his lips find yours again, you realize you're tired of fighting this magnetic pull between you.
"If anyone finds out…" you start.
"They won't," he promises. "We'll be careful. We're not those reckless kids anymore."
And maybe that's the key difference - you're not acting on impulse anymore, not diving in blindly. You're choosing this, fully aware of the consequences, of what you both stand to lose.
"Okay," you whisper against his mouth. "Okay."
When he kisses you again, it feels like every kiss you've ever shared and completely new all at once. Like coming home and starting an adventure. Like an ending and a beginning wrapped into one.
Later, you'll figure out the logistics, the careful dance of secrecy. But for now, you let yourself exist in this moment.
Some things, you realize, are worth keeping secret. Some loves are worth protecting, even if it means hiding them from the world.
Morning light filters through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Max's apartment, painting everything in soft gold. You're awake before him, taking in the familiar weight of his arm around your waist, the steady rhythm of his breathing against your neck. It feels surreal - like stepping back in time, but with the sharp edge of awareness that comes with being older.
You feel him stir, his arm tightening slightly around you. "You're thinking too loud," he mumbles against your shoulder.
"Sorry," you turn to face him, finding his eyes still heavy with sleep. "Hard not to."
He props himself up on an elbow, studying your face. The morning light makes everything feel more raw, more real. "Having second thoughts?"
"No," you say honestly. "Just… thinking about how we make this work."
"We managed before."
"And look how that ended." You trace a pattern on his chest absently. "We were reckless then. Every stolen moment was a near-miss."
He catches your hand, bringing it to his lips. "So we're smarter this time. No more risky moments in the paddock. No sneaking around where anyone could see us."
"It's not just that." You sit up, pulling the sheet with you. "Max, if this gets out… it's not just about our families being angry. It could affect your career, the team dynamics. And my father-"
"Would probably try to have me assassinated," he finishes with a half-smile, but you can see the seriousness in his eyes. "I know. Trust me, I've thought about all of it."
"And you still want this?"
He sits up too, cupping your face in his hands. "More than anything. The question is, do you?"
You lean into his touch, closing your eyes. "You know I do. That's what scares me. How much I want this, despite everything."
"Then we figure it out." His thumb brushes your cheekbone. "We're not kids anymore. We know how to be discreet. Your place, my place, private locations only. No public appearances together unless we're with the whole group. No suspicious social media activity."
"No telling anyone," you add. "Not even Lando or Charles."
"Especially not them," he agrees. "The fewer people who know, the safer it is."
You open your eyes to find him watching you with that intense focus he usually reserves for racing. "It's going to be hard," you warn. "Pretending there's nothing between us in public. Watching you from a distance at races."
"We've had years of practice at that," he reminds you softly. "At least now I get to hold you afterward."
The simple statement makes your heart clench. You lean forward, pressing your forehead to his. "When did you get so good with words?"
"Must be all those media training sessions," he smirks, but then turns serious. "I meant what I said last night. I love you. Whatever we have to do to make this work, I'm in."
"I love you too," you whisper back. "God, I really do."
He kisses you then, slow and deep, like he's trying to memorize the moment. When you pull back, you're both breathing harder.
The morning light is brighter now, reality creeping in with the rising sun. Soon, you'll have to leave separately, go back to pretending there's nothing between you. But for now, you let yourself sink into his embrace, memorizing the feeling of being here, being his.
"This is crazy, isn't it?" you murmur against his chest.
"Probably," he agrees, pressing a kiss to your hair. "But some of the best things in life are a little crazy."
You know there will be challenges ahead - difficult moments, close calls, the constant strain of secrecy. But as Max pulls you back down onto the pillows, his lips finding yours with familiar hunger, you think maybe he's right.
Some things are worth the risk. Some loves are worth keeping secret.
The key card clicks softly as you slip into Max's Monaco apartment late on September 30th. You'd made your excuses to your friends early - a headache, an important call - knowing they wouldn't question it too much since they'd already planned Max's official celebration for tomorrow.
But tonight is just for the two of you.
You find him in the kitchen, already changed into sweatpants and a soft t-shirt, pulling something from the oven. The domestic scene makes your heart flutter.
"Is Max Verstappen actually baking?" you tease, dropping your bag.
He turns with that smile that's become exclusively yours - soft, unguarded, real. "It's just heating up the cake Victoria made. I'm not completely useless."
You cross the space between you, wrapping your arms around him from behind. "Happy birthday, baby."
He turns in your embrace, backing you against the counter. "This is already better than last year's birthday."
"Mm, because last year you weren't secretly dating your rival team principal's daughter?"
"Because last year I couldn't do this," he murmurs, before kissing you deeply, hands sliding under your shirt to find bare skin. You melt into him, fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer.
The timer dings, making you both jump and then laugh.
"The cake can wait," he starts, but you push him back gently.
"Let's do this properly. Cake first, then presents, then…" you trail off suggestively.
"Fine," he sighs dramatically, but his eyes are sparkling. "But I'm holding you to that 'then'."
You sit cross-legged on his massive couch, sharing pieces of Victoria's chocolate cake straight from the tin. It's comfortable in a way that still surprises you sometimes - how easily you've fallen into these private moments, these glimpses of normalcy in your decidedly abnormal situation.
"Got you something," you say, reaching for your bag.
He raises an eyebrow. "Thought you were my present?"
"Cheesy," you throw a pillow at him, which he catches easily. "Here."
He unwraps the small package carefully. Inside is a simple leather bracelet, dark brown with a subtle pattern worked into it. "Turn it over," you say softly.
On the inside, barely visible unless you know to look, are your initials and the date from Monaco - the night everything changed.
"YN…" his voice is rough as he runs his thumb over the engraving.
"I know we can't do obvious things," you explain. "But I wanted you to have something… something that's just ours. Something you can wear without anyone knowing what it means."
He pulls you into his lap, kissing you with an intensity that makes your head spin. "I love it," he murmurs against your lips. "I love you."
"I love you too," you whisper back, heart full with how natural those words feel now. "Even if you are getting old."
He retaliates by tickling your sides until you're both breathless with laughter, ending up horizontal on the couch with you pinned beneath him.
"Twenty-three isn't old," he protests, pressing kisses down your neck.
"Ancient," you tease, but it turns into a gasp as he finds that sensitive spot below your ear. "Max…"
"Mm?"
"The cake…"
"Can wait," he finishes, hands already working on the buttons of your shirt. "Right now, I want to unwrap my other present."
Later, much later, you're tangled in his sheets, your head on his chest as he plays with your hair. The city lights twinkle through the windows, creating patterns on the ceiling.
"Thank you," he says softly.
"For what?"
"For this. For making my birthday special even though we have to hide. For loving me despite everything."
You prop yourself up to look at him, trace the line of his jaw with your finger. "Thank you for making it worth it."
He catches your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm. "Sometimes I wish we could just tell everyone. Walk into the paddock holding your hand, take you on real dates, post about you on Instagram like a normal couple."
"I know," you sigh, settling back against his chest. "Me too. But…"
"But it would cause chaos," he finishes. "I know. Doesn't stop me from wanting it though."
You lift your head again, kissing him softly. "Maybe someday. But for now, I'm happy just having you like this. These moments are ours, just ours."
His arms tighten around you. "I love you," he says again, like he can't help himself. "More than racing, more than winning, more than-"
"Don't," you laugh, pressing a finger to his lips. "Don't say more than racing. We both know that's a lie."
He grins, rolling you under him again. "Maybe it's a tie?"
"I can live with that," you smile up at him, pulling him down for another kiss.
The world outside keeps turning - tomorrow there will be the official party, the public celebrations, the careful distance you'll have to maintain. But tonight, in this space that's become your sanctuary, you can just be Max and YN, two people in love, celebrating another year together.
Even if the rest of the world doesn't know it yet.
Monaco, 2021
You're curled into Max's side on your couch, some Netflix show playing in the background that neither of you is really watching. His fingers trace lazy patterns on your arm while you scroll through your phone, both enjoying the calm before tomorrow's storm - the start of a new season, new expectations, new pressure.
"Nervous about tomorrow?" you ask, tilting your head to look at him.
He shrugs, but you can feel the slight tension in his shoulders. "Not nervous. Just… ready. The car feels good, testing went well."
"Mm," you press a kiss to his jaw. "Maybe this is your year."
"Maybe," but his smile is confident as he turns to capture your lips properly. "Though right now I'm more interested in-"
Your phone buzzes loudly, Lando's name flashing on the screen. You answer it without thinking.
"Hey Lan-"
"I'm outside your place!" his cheerful voice cuts through. "Charles and I brought wine and that awful reality show you love. Open up!"
Your heart stops. "What?"
"Come on, it's freezing out here! I can see your lights on."
You sit up straight, panic flooding your system. "Lando, I-"
"Don't even try to say you're busy. It's the night before the first race, I know you're just sitting there overthinking everything."
Max is already moving, gathering his shoes and jacket silently. Your eyes meet across the room, both knowing how catastrophic it would be if Lando found him here.
"Give me five minutes," you say into the phone, trying to keep your voice steady. "I'm… I need to put clothes on."
"Gross, too much information," Lando laughs. "Five minutes!"
You hang up, heart racing. "Shit, shit, shit."
"It's fine," Max is surprisingly calm as he pulls on his shoes. "I'll go out through the back stairs."
"What if they see you?" You're already scanning the room for any evidence of him - his Red Bull cap on the coffee table, his phone charger by the couch.
"They won't." He grabs his things efficiently, muscle memory from two years of sneaking around kicking in. "I'll text you when I'm clear."
Another knock at the door makes you both freeze. "YN!" Charles's voice this time. "We can hear you moving around!"
Max pulls you in for a quick, hard kiss. "I love you. Don't worry."
"Be careful," you whisper against his lips.
He flashes that cocky grin you love. "Always am."
You watch him disappear through your bedroom toward the back stairwell, then take a deep breath, running your hands through your hair to mess it up slightly - making your "just got out of bed" excuse more believable.
When you open the door, Lando immediately pushes past you with wine bottles clinking. "Finally! What were you really doing?"
"Told you, getting dressed." You accept Charles' hello kiss on the cheek, praying your face isn't as flushed as it feels.
"Your shirt's inside out," Charles points out, smirking.
You look down - shit, he's right. You'd thrown it on hastily after… earlier activities. "I was sleeping," you say quickly. "You guys interrupted my pre-race nap routine."
"At 9 PM?" Lando's already making himself at home on your couch - right where Max was sitting minutes ago. "Sure, sure."
Your phone buzzes with a text: "All clear. They didn't see me. Missing you already x"
Relief floods through you as Charles pours wine and Lando queues up the show. You settle into the evening, letting their familiar banter wash over you, trying to act normal even as your skin still tingles from Max's touch.
"You seem different lately," Charles observes suddenly, studying your face. "Happier."
"Just excited for the new season," you deflect smoothly, a skill you've perfected over the past year.
"Mm," he doesn't look entirely convinced. "No secret boyfriend we should know about?"
You laugh, the sound only slightly strained. "Right, because that worked out so well last time."
"Last time was Max," Lando points out. "Thank god you're both over that whole thing."
If only they knew. But you just smile and take a sip of wine, letting them move on to discussing tomorrow's race.
As the evening progresses, the wine flows and the reality show plays in the background. You're carefully avoiding any topics that might make Charles or Lando suspicious, laughing a bit too loudly at their jokes.
Lando, ever restless, decides to raid your kitchen for snacks. "Where do you keep the good stuff?" he calls out, opening cupboards.
Your heart immediately races. You know exactly what might be lurking in those cupboards - Max's favorite energy drink, a Red Bull can he'd left behind last time he was here. You stand up quickly, "I'll get it for you-"
But Lando's already moving, pulling open the refrigerator door. "Found it!" he announces, then pauses. His hand emerges holding a Red Bull can, but something else catches his eye. A water bottle with a distinctive Red Bull Racing team logo sits next to it.
"Huh," Charles looks over. "Isn't this Max's water bottle?"
You feel the blood drain from your face. "Oh, um-" Your mind races, searching for an explanation. "I... must have picked it up from somewhere. You know how these things get mixed up."
Lando turns, one eyebrow raised. The playful smile slowly morphs into something more knowing. "Mixed up, huh?"
Charles is watching you now, that sharp observant look that made him such a good racing driver now focused entirely on you.
"Yeah, I must've picked it up by accident, didn't even realize."
Lando shrugs and cracks open a packet of chips, seemingly satisfied with your explanation. But Charles continues to study you with that piercing gaze that makes you want to squirm.
Keeping this a secret is becoming harder and harder.
Silverstone, 2021
The English countryside blurs past your window as Max takes another curve, maybe a bit faster than necessary. It's nearly midnight, and you should both be resting before tomorrow's race, but these night drives have become your thing - the only time you can be truly alone during race weekends, truly free.
"You're showing off," you accuse, but you're smiling.
"Me? Never." He takes his eyes off the road for a second to grin at you, his hand finding yours across the console.
The radio plays softly in the background, some British pop song you don't know. The summer air rushing through the open windows carries the scent of grass and freedom. It feels perfect. Until it isn't.
It happens so fast - a deer appears out of nowhere, Max swerves to avoid it, but the road is narrow and dark. The tires lose grip on loose gravel, and suddenly you're spinning, the world turning into a kaleidoscope of shadows and panic.
The impact when it comes is brutal. Metal crunches, glass shatters, and everything goes still.
"YN?" Max's voice is tight with fear. "Baby, are you okay?"
You do a quick mental check. Everything hurts, but nothing seems broken. "I'm okay. You?"
"Fine." He's already trying to open his door, but it's jammed. The front of the car is wrapped around a tree, steam hissing from the hood. "Fuck. Fuck!"
Your phone is somewhere on the floor. When you retrieve it, the screen is cracked but working. "We need help."
"We can't call emergency services," Max says immediately. "It'll be all over the news in minutes."
He's right. You can already see the headlines: "Verstappen in Late Night Crash with Mercedes Boss's Daughter."
"Christian?" you suggest.
"He'll kill me. We have a race tomorrow." Max runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. "We need someone who can be discreet, who has the resources to handle this quietly, who-"
You both realize it at the same time.
"No," Max says.
"He's the only one who can help us without this becoming a scandal."
"YN, he's the last person-"
"Max." You reach for his hand. "We don't have a choice."
He knows you're right. With a resigned sigh, he nods.
Your hands shake slightly as you dial Lewis's number. It rings three times before he answers, voice groggy with sleep.
"Little Wolff? It's midnight, what-"
"Lewis, I need your help. And I need you to not ask questions."
There's a pause, then rustling as he presumably sits up. "Are you okay?"
"Yes, but… we're stuck. Had an accident on the back roads near Silverstone. We need help getting the car towed without anyone finding out."
There's a pause. "We?"
You close your eyes. "I'm with Max."
The silence that follows is deafening. "Send me your location. Don't move. I'll be there in twenty minutes."
True to his word, headlights appear eighteen minutes later. Lewis steps out of his car, taking in the scene - the wrecked vehicle, you and Max standing by the roadside, the unspoken truth of why you were together at this hour.
"Are you both alright?" He asks first, concern overriding any other emotions.
"Just bruised," you answer. "The car took the worst of it."
He nods, already on his phone. "Angela's on her way with a tow truck. She'll be discreet."
Max steps forward. "Lewis, I-"
"Don't." Lewis holds up a hand. "I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing it for her." He looks at you, something sad in his expression. "How long?"
"Since last year."
He lets out a low whistle. "Well, that explains a few things."
The wait for Angela is tense. Lewis keeps his distance, occasionally speaking quietly into his phone. Max doesn't let go of your hand, thumb rubbing circles on your skin.
When Angela arrives with the tow truck, she doesn't bat an eye at the situation. The car is loaded efficiently, and arrangements are made to have it repaired at a private garage Lewis trusts.
"I'll drive YN home," Lewis says, and it's not really a question.
Max tenses beside you, but you squeeze his hand. "It's safer this way," you whisper. "Less suspicious if anyone sees us."
He knows you're right, again. "Text me when you're home?"
"Promise."
The drive with Lewis is quiet at first. Then the storm pours down.
"Of all the stupid, reckless things," he mutters, running a hand over his face. "A year? You've been sneaking around with him for a year? Again?"
"Lewis-"
"No." He turns to face you, anger and worry warring in his expression. "Do you have any idea what could happen if this gets out? What your father would-"
"I don't care!" The words burst out louder than intended, making your head throb. "I don't care what anyone thinks anymore."
"Well, you should!" Lewis's voice rises to match yours. "This isn't some game, YN. This is your life, your career, your family-"
"You think I don't know that?" You bite back. "You think we haven't spent the last year terrified of exactly that? Hiding everything, sneaking around, lying to everyone we care about?"
"Then why?" He throws his hands up in frustration. "Why risk everything for him?"
"Because I love him!" The words echo in the car. You lower your voice, tears threatening to fall. "I love him, Lewis. And he loves me. Isn't that enough?"
Lewis' expression softens slightly, but the worry remains. "Love isn't always enough, YN. Not in this world. Not with everything at stake."
"It has to be," you whisper. "Because I can't do this anymore - pretending I don't feel what I feel, acting like my heart doesn't race every time he walks into a room. I'm tired of hiding."
"He's not good for you," Lewis says quietly. "You remember how broken you were after-"
"He was nineteen," you cut him off. "We were both kids, both scared. Things are different now."
"Are they?" his voice is gentle but firm. "Because from where I'm standing, you're still sneaking around in the middle of the night, still hiding from everyone. That doesn't sound different to me."
You sink back into your seat, suddenly exhausted. "I'm not asking for your approval, Lewis. I'm just asking for you to trust that I know what I'm doing."
"Do you? Because getting into a car accident at 2 AM doesn't exactly scream good decision-making."
"That wasn't-" you start to defend, but he holds up a hand.
"You shouldn't have been out there in the first place. These secret meetings, these late-night drives… it's not sustainable, YN."
"I know," you admit quietly. "We know. We've been talking about telling people, about doing this properly."
Lewis studies your face for a long moment. "And what happens when the media finds out? When your father finds out? When the pressure becomes too much and he runs again?"
"He won't." Your voice is firm despite your injuries. "He's not that scared kid anymore, Lewis. He knows what he wants now."
"And what is that?"
"Me." You meet Lewis's gaze steadily. "He wants me. All of me, no matter what it costs. And I want him."
Lewis sighs deeply, rubbing his temples. "I can't support this, YN. I've watched him hurt you too many times."
"I know," you say softly. "And I love you for wanting to protect me. But I'm not asking for your support. I'm just asking you not to make this harder than it already is, I know you're worried. But please… please don't tell anyone. Not yet. Let us do this our way."
He doesn't respond, just pulls up the car outside your hotel and unlocks it so you can get out.
Silverstone, 2021. Race day
Your hands are still shaking slightly as you make your way through the paddock. Last night's crash left more than just physical bruises - the tension with Lewis, the close call, the reality of how fragile your secret is, it all weighs heavily.
The Mercedes garage is already buzzing with pre-race energy when you spot Lewis by his car, going through data with Peter. You wait until he's alone before approaching.
"Lewis," you say softly. "Can we talk?"
He glances around before responding, voice low. "There's nothing to talk about."
"Please. What you did last night-"
"Was a mistake," he cuts you off, finally turning to face you. "I should have called emergency services, protocol be damned."
"You know why we couldn't-"
"No, YN. You couldn't because you're sneaking around like teenagers. Do you have any idea what could have happened? If that tree had been a few inches to the left-"
"But it wasn't," you interrupt. "We're fine."
"Fine?" He scoffs. "You're both bruised, his car is wrecked, and I'm now complicit in your little romance."
"It's not a little romance-"
"Then what is it?" His voice rises slightly before he checks himself. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like the same pattern as before. You, him, secrets, lies."
"I told you last night - I love him."
"Love?" He lets out a bitter laugh. "Love doesn't hide, YN. Love doesn't put people in dangerous situations. Love doesn't-"
"Don't." Your voice cracks. "Don't pretend you understand what we're dealing with."
"Oh, I understand perfectly. You're playing girlfriend with my biggest rival while there's a championship at stake. You're risking everything - your reputation, your father's position, the team's integrity-"
"This isn't a game to me!" The words come out sharper than intended. A few mechanics glance your way, and you lower your voice. "This isn't about the championship or the team. This is about me and him."
"Nothing in this paddock is ever just about two people," Lewis says coldly. "You of all people should know that."
Before you can respond, Bono approaches. "Lewis, strategy meeting."
"I need to focus," Lewis tells you, his expression hardening. "I suggest you figure out where your loyalties lie before someone gets really hurt."
He walks away, leaving you standing there with a hollow feeling in your chest. Angela catches your eye, her expression sympathetic, and you wonder how much she knows.
The pre-race preparations pass in a blur. You go through the motions, smile when appropriate, but your mind keeps drifting to Max. You haven't seen him since Lewis dropped you off last night - you both agreed it was safer to stay apart until the race.
Then you're in the garage, watching the formation lap. Your father stands beside you, discussing something with the engineers, but their words sound distant.
Lap one. Copse Corner.
The contact happens so fast - Lewis's Mercedes alongside Max's Red Bull. The touch of wheels. Then Max's car is airborne, spinning, crashing into the barriers with devastating force.
The garage erupts in chaos. Screens show the replay from every angle. Your father is immediately in discussion with the stewards.
You can't breathe. Can't move. Your eyes are fixed on the smoking wreck of Max's car, willing him to move, to get out, to be okay.
"Racing incident," Toto argues. "Lewis had the line-"
Their voices fade to background noise as you watch the medical team reach the car. Your phone feels heavy in your pocket, but you can't check it - not here, not with everyone watching.
"YN," Angela touches your arm gently. "You look pale. Maybe some water?"
You follow her away from the garage, grateful for the excuse. As soon as you're out of sight, your composure breaks.
"I don't know if he's okay," you whisper, hands shaking. "I can't- I can't check my phone, I can't ask anyone, I can't-"
"Breathe," Angela steadies you. "Just breathe."
"I should be there. I should be with him. After last night, after everything-"
"I won't say anything," she promises quickly. "But YN... this is bigger than just keeping a secret now."
"I know," you admit. "God, I know. But I can't- I can't even ask if he's okay without raising suspicions."
The race continues. Lewis gets a ten-second penalty but fights back to win. The garage celebrates, and you have to join in, have to smile and cheer while your heart is somewhere else entirely.
Hours pass with no news. Social media is full of speculation, but nothing concrete. You catch snippets of conversation - "hospital for checks" and "conscious but shaken" - but nothing official.
It's torture, pretending everything is normal. Pretending you're just concerned in a general, professional way. Pretending last night never happened, that you don't still have bruises from a different crash, that your world isn't falling apart all over again.
Finally, after what feels like years, you manage to slip away to the Red Bull motorhome.
The motorhome is quiet when you enter. GP looks up from his laptop, surprise crossing his features.
"YN? You shouldn't-"
"Please," your voice breaks. "Please, I need to see him."
GP studies you for a long moment, then sighs. "Last door on the right. But be careful - he's pretty beaten up."
You find Max lying on the small bed, eyes closed but breathing steady. The room smells of medical cream and defeat.
"Max?" Your voice is barely a whisper.
His eyes open immediately, finding yours in the dim light. Despite everything, his lips curve into a small smile.
"Two crashes in twenty-four hours," he mumbles. "Must be some kind of record."
"Don't," tears spill over finally. "Don't joke. Not now."
"Come here," he tries to move over but winces.
"Careful," you rush to his side, perching carefully on the edge of the bed. "How bad is it?"
"Everything hurts," he admits. "But nothing's broken. Well, except my championship lead."
"I was so scared," your voice breaks. "When I saw the crash, and then I couldn't- I couldn't even ask if you were okay. I had to stand there and pretend like I wasn't terrified."
"Hey," he reaches for your hand, wincing at the movement. "I'm okay. Well, relatively speaking."
"This is my fault," you whisper. "If I hadn't called Lewis last night-"
"Stop," he squeezes your hand. "This had nothing to do with last night."
"Didn't it? He was so angry this morning, about us, about having to help us-"
"Lewis and I race hard regardless of personal feelings," Max says firmly. "What happened today was racing. Stupid, dangerous racing, but still racing."
You study his face in the dim light, cataloging every bruise, every sign of pain he's trying to hide, "Max, don't you think it's time?"
"Time?"
"To tell people. About us." The words rush out now that you've started. "I can't keep doing this - watching you race and pretending I don't care, hiding how I feel, lying to everyone we know. Today made me realize… if something had happened to you, really happened…"
He's quiet for a long moment, thumb tracing patterns on your hand. "What about your father?"
"I don't care anymore. Well, I do care, but… not more than I care about you. About us." You meet his eyes. "When the season's over. Before next year starts. We tell everyone."
"You're sure?"
"Are you?"
He pulls you closer, carefully, until you're lying beside him. "I'm sure if you are."
"Even with the championship? The media circus it'll cause?"
"Especially then." He kisses your forehead. "Today… when I hit that barrier, all I could think about was you. Not the championship, not the points, just… you. And how much time we've wasted hiding."
You curl into his side, mindful of his bruises. "So we're agreed? After Abu Dhabi, whatever happens with the championship…"
"We tell everyone." He lifts your chin to kiss you properly. "No more hiding."
"Promise?" You need to hear him say it.
"Promise," he pulls you closer, careful of both your injuries. "Besides, after last night's adventure and today's crash, I think we've filled our drama quota for a while."
You stay there, tangled together in the quiet darkness, both battered from different crashes but somehow still whole.
"I should go," you whisper eventually. "Before someone comes looking."
"One of the last times we'll have to say that," he reminds you.
"Promise me something else?"
"Anything."
"No more late-night drives for a while?"
He laughs, then grimaces in pain. "Deal. Although technically, both crashes were Lewis' fault."
"Max..."
"Kidding," he kisses your forehead softly. "Kind of."
You stand carefully, already missing his warmth. "Text me when you're feeling better?"
"Text me when you're home safe," he counters.
At the door, you turn back one last time. He's watching you with those eyes that made you fall in love twice - once when you were too young to know better, and again when you were old enough to know exactly what you were risking.
"Max?"
"Hmm?"
"I love you. Even when I have to pretend I don't."
His smile, despite the pain, lights up the dark room. "I love you too. Even when Lewis Hamilton tries to kill me. Twice in twenty-four hours."
You shake your head, but you're smiling as you slip out into the night. A few more months of hiding, of pretending, of careful distances and secret meetings. Then everything changes.
You just hope you're both ready for whatever comes next.
Abu Dhabi, 2021
The final showdown. Equal points, one race to decide it all.
The morning of the race, you slip into the Red Bull garage before sunrise. Max is already there, going through his pre-race routine, but his face softens when he sees you.
"Couldn't sleep?" he asks, pulling you into his arms.
"Not really," you nestle into his chest, breathing in his familiar scent. "Too much going on in my head."
"Talk to me."
You pull back slightly to look at him. "I'm nervous. For you, for the race, for what comes after…"
"Hey," he cups your face gently. "Whatever happens today, we're in this together. Remember?"
"I know," you try to smile. "It's just… everything's going to change after today."
"Good changes," he kisses your forehead. "No more hiding, remember?"
You've had this conversation countless times over the past months, planning how you'll handle the revelation of your relationship. Your father still doesn't know, though you suspect he's noticed something's different.
"I brought you something," you reach into your pocket and pull out a small charm - a tiny silver racing car. "For luck."
Max takes it, turning it over in his hands with a soft smile. "You're my luck."
"That was incredibly cheesy," you laugh, but your heart swells.
"You love it," he pulls you closer, kissing you properly this time. "And you love me."
"I do," you whisper against his lips. "So much it scares me sometimes."
You stay like that for a while, wrapped in each other's arms, before reality intrudes again.
"I should go," you sigh. "There's something else I need to do before the race."
Max knows without asking. "Lewis?"
"Yeah," you bite your lip. "I can't let things end like this between us."
"Go," he squeezes your hand. "Just come back to me after?"
"Always."
Finding Lewis proves harder. He's been avoiding you since Silverstone, your relationship reduced to professional nods and carefully maintained distance. But you finally spot him in the Mercedes garage, alone with his thoughts.
"Lewis?" your voice is hesitant.
He tenses but doesn't turn around. "YN."
"I know you probably don't want to talk to me-"
"Then why are you here?"
You take a deep breath. "Because you're my brother, Lewis. Not by blood, but by choice. And I can't stand how things are between us."
He finally turns, and the pain in his eyes matches your own. "You chose him."
"I chose love," you step closer. "That doesn't mean I stopped caring about you."
"You could have told me," his voice cracks slightly. "Before Silverstone, before any of it. I thought we told each other everything."
"I was scared," you admit. "Scared of exactly this - losing you, losing my family, losing everything I've known."
"So instead you just lied? Snuck around?"
"I know it was wrong," tears prick at your eyes. "And I'm so sorry, Lewis. Not for loving him, but for hurting you. For breaking your trust."
He's quiet for a long moment, studying your face. "Does he make you happy? Really happy?"
"Yes," you whisper. "More than I ever thought possible."
Lewis sighs deeply, running a hand over his face. "Come here, little sister."
You practically fall into his arms, tears flowing freely now. He holds you tight, like when you were kids and he would protect you from everything.
"I'm still mad at you," he mumbles into your hair.
"I know."
"And I still think you're crazy."
"Probably."
"But," he pulls back to look at you, "I love you. And I miss you. And if he ever hurts you, I'll end his career so fast-"
You laugh through your tears. "There's my overprotective brother."
"Someone has to look out for you," he wipes your cheeks gently. "Even if you make it incredibly difficult."
"I'm sorry," you say again. "For everything."
"I know," he kisses your forehead. "We'll figure it out. After today."
"About that…" you hesitate. "We're planning to go public. After the race."
Lewis nods slowly. "I figured something like that was coming. The way you look at each other isn't exactly subtle."
"You noticed?"
"YN, everyone with eyes has noticed. They're just too scared of your father to mention it."
You both laugh, and for a moment it feels like before - easy, comfortable, safe.
"Lewis?" you grab his hand. "Whatever happens today… I'm proud of you. Always have been, always will be."
He squeezes your hand. "Right back at you, little Wolff. Even if you have terrible taste in men."
"Hey!"
"I'm just saying, there are other drivers-"
"Goodbye, Lewis," you start walking away, but you're smiling.
"YN?" he calls after you. "For what it's worth… he better know how lucky he is."
An hour later, you're standing in the Mercedes garage, heart in your throat, watching the screens as though your life depends on it. In a way, it does. Six years of loving Max in secret, two years of running away from it all, and now here you are - watching the man you love fight your father's driver for the championship in the most intense finale you've ever witnessed.
When Nicholas Latifi crashes, everything changes. The safety car comes out, and suddenly the garage erupts with activity. Your father's voice cuts through the chaos, sharp and authoritative as he argues with race control. You've never seen him like this - the usual composed Toto Wolff replaced by someone desperately fighting against what feels like destiny shifting.
"No, no, no, Michael, that is so not right!" Your father's voice booms through the garage as the lapped cars are allowed through. You flinch at the fury in his tone, at the way he slams his headset down.
The final lap is unbearable. You watch Lewis getting hunted down by Max on fresh tires. Your nails dig into your palms, torn between family loyalty and the love you've kept hidden for so long.
When Max makes the pass, when he crosses the line as World Champion, the Mercedes garage falls silent. The contrast between the Red Bull celebrations on screen and the devastation around you is stark.
Your father looks destroyed, a mixture of anger and disbelief on his face. But it's Lewis who breaks your heart - the way he sits in his car, processing what just happened, the dignity with which he eventually emerges to congratulate Max.
You find Lewis in the drivers room a few hours later, away from the cameras. His eyes are red, his shoulders slumped in a way you've never seen before.
"Lew," your voice breaks.
He looks up, and suddenly you're both crying. You wrap your arms around him as he breaks down.
"It wasn't supposed to end like this," he whispers.
"I know," you hold him tighter. "I know."
You stay with him, through the protests, through the appeals, through the obligatory congratulations he has to give. You stay because he's family, because he needs you, because some things are more important than celebration.
Through it all, you catch glimpses of Max - being crowned champion, celebrating with his team, searching the crowd with eyes that keep finding you. But you stay where you're needed most.
Hours pass before you make it to Max's hotel. The celebrations are still going on somewhere, but he's in his room when you arrive, pacing like a caged animal.
"Where were you?" he demands as soon as you enter.
"I was with Lewis."
His face darkens. "Of course you were. Consoling the Mercedes garage while I won my first championship."
"Max, don't."
"Don't what? Don't be upset that my girlfriend wasn't there to celebrate with me? That she was too busy comforting the opposition?"
"That 'opposition' is my family!" Your voice rises to match his. "Lewis is like my brother, my father is devastated-"
"Your father?" He laughs bitterly. "The same father you've been lying to for years? The one we're supposedly telling about us after this race?"
"Are you seriously doing this right now?"
"When else am I supposed to do it? When you're ready? Because I've been waiting for you to be ready since 2015!"
The words hit like physical blows. "That's not fair. You know why I left in 2018, the way you cut me off like I was nothing, it tore me apart."
"Yeah, because it got too hard. Because loving me was too complicated." He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. "And now here we are again. I just won the World Championship, and where were you? With them."
"They're my family!"
"And what am I?" He steps closer, eyes intense. "What are we, YN? Because right now it feels like I'm still your dirty little secret."
"That's not-"
"Then prove it. Let's go tell Toto right now. Let's end this charade."
"Today? After everything that happened? Are you insane?"
"Why not today? When will it be convenient enough for you? When will loving me not conflict with your perfect Mercedes family?"
Tears are falling freely now. "You're being cruel."
"No, I'm being honest. Finally." He sits heavily on the bed. "I love you. I've loved you through everything - through you leaving, through you coming back, through all the hiding and sneaking around. But I can't do this anymore."
Your heart stops. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying I want all of you. Not just the parts that are convenient, not just the stolen moments between races. I want to celebrate with you when I win, hold you when I crash, build a life with you in the open." He looks at you, and you see the tears in his eyes too. "But I don't think you want that. Not really. Not enough to risk everything else."
"Max…"
"Go home, YN. Go console your father. Go be the perfect Mercedes daughter." His voice breaks slightly. "Just… don't come back unless you're ready to choose me. All of me. The rival, the champion, everything."
You stand there, frozen, both of you crying. Everything you've built, every secret moment, every whispered promise, feels like it's crumbling around you.
"I love you," you whisper.
"I know." He doesn't look at you. "That's never been our problem."
As you stand in the doorway of Max's hotel room, the weight of seven years of love, secrets, and choices bears down on your shoulders. The championship trophy gleams on the table behind him, a symbol of everything he's achieved and everything that's torn you apart.
Biggest Fan - MV1
Max Verstappen x Dancer! Reader
AN: Sorry this took me so long! Literally been sitting in my drafts almost done but had a lack of motivation but it's a new year so we need to relive this blog!
Summary: Just Max being madly in love with his dancer girlfriend
Face Claim: Rylee Arnold
Max Insta Stories
Youruser Insta
Liked by maxverstappen1, yourbff, landonorris, and 1,890,879 others
tagged maxverstappen1 and stephen_nedoroscik
youruser life lately <3
user1 I love being able to watch you every week!
user2 you two better win this year or I will riot
maxverstappen1 I can't wait to see you two perform
youruser I'm so glad you're coming!
user3 I love knowing that those 2 are both dominating in their respective field... power couple of the century
user4 I love how max posts Y/N like he's there with her. Like we KNOW he's sitting down every week to watch Y/N and Stephen dance
landonorris yes... and most of the time he ropes everyone else into watch youruser Lando... don't act like you didn't make Max facetime to last week to tell me how amazing I did.... landonorris damn... catching strays user4 lmao... I didn't realize my comment would create such discourse
Max’s Insta
Likey by your user, landonorris, redbullracing, and 3,809,899 others
tagged yourusers
maxverstappen1 4 time world champ and I still didn't beat Y/N karting
user5 what are the odds he let her win?
youruser wow... that little faith? Remember Oscar defending in Baku? Ya that's me behind the wheel
user6 I'm sobbing at the fact that Y/N watching races so intently she can bring in references
user7 I still can't believe he's a 4x world champion
youruser I am so beyond proud of you love! My Champion <3
maxverstappen Ik hou meer dan woorden van je
landonorris congratulations!
user8 LFGGGGGGG!!!
Youruser Insta story
Max’s Insta
Liked by youruser, landonorris, yourbestie, and 2,094,632 others
maxverstappen1 I've loved every moment with you
tagged youruser
user34 I love seeing these two together! And the way he's always posting her
user42 perfect perfect
youruser I love every moment with you too!
landonorris GAG
user13 Im cryinggggg! Lando be nice youruser ya be nice!
user22 I have a feeling Y/N helped with the aesthetics of this post but I am STUNNED that Max didn't sneak a RB pic in
Max’s Insta Story
Kinktober Day 7 - Spanking - CL16, MV1
Charles Leclerc X Max Verstappen X Reader
TW - Spanking, punishment, double penetration, Mean Max, Mean Charles, Bratty reader, squirting, degrading terms
WC 2300+
Y/N POV
"Please, Charles! Max isn't home right now," I beg Charles for the third time in the past 10 minutes.
"Amour, you know damn well he will have both of our asses red if he finds out. Which he will," Charles tells me.
"Fine," I say while getting up with an eye roll. I make my way through our Monaco apartment with Leo hot on my trail before I make it into our shared bedroom where I find Jimmy and Sassy both happily sleeping in their cat tree.
I make my way to Max's side of the bed where I grab my favorite vibrator before quietly sneaking into our guest room and shutting the door behind me. Double checking to make sure the door is locked before stripping myself completely and making myself comfortable on the guest bed.
I decided if Charles wasn't gonna make me cum cause he wanted to be good then I would take matters into my own hands and deal with the punishment later. That is if I even get caught.
I'm not even 5 minutes into my solo session when I hear the front door open and Max announcing his arrive.
"Im home, liefde," Max announces making my anxiety peak a bit knowing exactly what is going to follow as soon as he realizes where I have gone off to and what I was doing.
At this point it was too late to turn back so I might as well make the most of it.
"Where is Y/N?" I can hear Max ask Charles while I have the vibe firmly places against my clit. I whine out at the sound of my boyfriend's voice knowing even if I find a way to cum in such a short amount of time it won't feel half as good as it would if it was Charles or Max.
"She's mad at me," Charles replies back to Max. I can only imagine the confusion that is starting to set in for Max. It was rare for me to be mad at either of the boys and even more rare to disappear when mad instead of solving the problem before it could get any worse.
"What did you do to her?" Max asks making me smile a little but it quickly drops when I remember my ass is about to be at his mercy.
"She's needy. Like so fucking needy. She begged me no less than 5 times to play with her in like a 10-minute span," Charles informs Max.
"So where is she?" Max questions again not understanding why I suddenly disappeared. I normally just continued to beg Charles knowing he would eventually break.
"I'm sure in our room. She kinda just got up and left," Charles tells him honestly. It's like I can feel the wheels turning in Max's head because no less than a second later I can hear both of my men pass the guest room door straight into our room. Then back to my door where I'm sure now that they are focusing their ears, they can hear the soft hum of the vibrator.
"Y/N you have 3 seconds to open this door!" I hear Max's loud voice ring out, making my anxiety reach an all-time high. It's not the bad kind of anxiety but the kind you feel waiting for the best roller coaster in the whole park.
Knowing my punishment is already going to be bad enough I truly don't want to test him, so I clip the power off of the vibrator and rush to open the door.
when I get the door open I find Max with his arms crossed over his chest and Charles is just shaking his head knowing it's about to be a long night because of my actions.
"Get on the bed on all fours and wait for us," is all Max says which has me a little more confused than anything. Normally when I'm about to get punished Max takes matters into his own hands and physically moves me where he wants me to be.
"Give her 30," Max tells Charles as soon as I'm situated and my ass is in the air waiting for the punishment. I have my head turned so I can watch them and I can see the confusion written all over his face.
"Why?" Charles asks clearly not excited to be the one to hand out the punishment. While Charles did occasionally dominate me he was always more about pleasure not pain.
"She wanted to play with you, not me," Max tells him like it was the most simple thing in the world.
"Max, please. You always punish us," Charles tries to reason still not understanding why it had to be him.
"Charles, you know how she is when she's needy. She's going to find a way to cum with or without either of our help. You left her alone, so you're serving her, her punishment is your punishment for letting her be alone long enough to get a toy and lock herself away in another room," Max tells him finally revealing his plan.
"Please Max, I do not want to hurt her," Charles tells Max letting his dow eyes droop a little more than normal.
"She fucking loves this shit Charles and you know it," Max tells him. I can see from here Charles is really fighting with himself. He was the good boy and did everything Max told him but this was new for him. He had never once been the one to dish out one of my punishments and he was struggling to grasp at the idea.
"Color, Charles," Max finally asks seeing the same things I'm seeing. While it was technically still a punishment we made these rules because we enjoyed the dynamic and regardless of it being a punishment or not we had safe words for a reason.
"Green," Charles finally answers softly while making eye contact with Max.
I watch as Max makes his way to the bed where strips down into nothing before sitting right in front of me just out of reach.
"No. Stay there and watch me," Max says when I try to crawl closer to him so I can take him into my mouth. I just let out a loud whine before settling in and waiting for my other boyfriend to dish out my punishment.
The first slap to my ass rings out through the room making me whine at the sudden contact.
"1" I softly count. When I felt another one it was on my other ass cheek making me gasp.
"2" I continue my counting.
"She thought this toy could make her cum just as good as we can," Max says in a teasing manner clearly enjoying watching his loves play.
"No, I just needed -" But couldnt finish my sentence before another slap was issued on my ass. One that had more force than the other too. It took me by such a surprise I lost my breath.
"3" I gasp out when I finally remember how to breathe again. While this wasn't the hardest spanking I had ever received I wouldn't have known it wasn't my dutch boyfriend if he wasn't sitting right in front of me.
"Give her 5 in a row," Max informs Charles making it clear that while Charles might be handing out the punishment he was still the one in charge.
The next five spanks rang out in the room making me whimper at each one.
"8" I count again once Charles finishes the quick 5.
"Fuck, Charlie. Too much," I whine due to how rough he was being. I loved every moment of it, was just shocked at how hard he was spanking me.
"Shut up, Cherie," Charles replies back laying another group of 3 slaps on my glowing ass.
"11" I gasp in surprise looking up at Max to find the same look of shock on his face.
I can feel Charles rubbing my ass in a rough yet soothing manner before his hand left my ass before raining down on my ass again.
"12" I say right before I felt another one ring out.
"13"
"14"
"15" I gasp lightly falling forward on the bed from the force of each slap no longer having the strength to hold myself up.
"Give her a second," Max tells Charles sternly when he aggressively grabs my hips to sit me back up.
Max leans forward stroking my hair while I let a few stray tears fall at the pain.
"Color, liefde," Max asks me making sure I'm still enjoying everything.
"green, Maxie," I whisper out before feeling another slap on my ass.
"16" I continue counting just like how I was trained to do.
I feel another series of slaps on my ass all directed in the same spot making each one hurt more than the one before.
"20" I finally gasp once I catch my breath from the shock of it all.
I start to feel a series of spanks reign down one my ass all in different spots this time all the while Charles is lecturing me.
"I can't believe you're brattiness got me in trouble. I was the fucking good one, you were the damn slut and now I'm in trouble," Charles says while finishing out my punishment.
"30" I cry out once the abuse to my ass has finished. As soon as Charles steps back from my ass I collapse on the bed and start crying softly. Not necessarily from the pain but from the fact that I had gotten Charles in trouble with me even though he had done all the right things.
I feel myself being pulled into the arms of one of my boyfriends and only know who it is from their smell.
"Amour, it's done," Charles says softly making me whine into his neck and gripping onto him a little harder.
"I'm sorry Charlie. Didn't know I would get you in trouble too," I mumble into his neck making him laugh a little.
"It's okay amour. I kinda liked watching your ass glow a beautiful shade of red from my hands. Like my own little art piece," Charles announces clearly proud of the work he had done.
When I finally come back to earth completely I lean over towards Max and pull him in for a kiss which quickly turned into him pulling me out of Charles's arms and into his lap where he instantly sinks his hard cock into my tight pussy. He slid in with almost no resistance simply from how soaked I was.
It didn't take Charles long to join us by slipping behind me where I feel his fingers slip into my ass using my own arousal to make it slick.
"Oh fuck," I moan out when I start bouncing on both Max's cock and Charles's fingers.
"Cum, you little slut," Max tells me which has me instantly shaking from the intensity of the orgasm I was having.
I'm not even fully recovered before I feel Charles slipping his cock into my ass stretching me even more.
"Fuck," I scream out from the stretch and burn I was feeling. They both allow me a few seconds to adjust to their size before they both start moving in me.
"So fucking tight. We spend so much time in these holes and you're still as tight as the first time we played with you," Charles whispers in my ear making me moan.
"Such a little whore, taking two cocks like you were made for it," Max whispers in my other ear, sending chills down my spine from his dirty words.
"Our little whore is about to cum again," Max announces as if Charles didn't know.
"Cum for us, Cherie," Charles tells me which has me letting go and falling over the edge. I feel myself start squirting all over the three of us. While I'm still squirting I try to pull myself off of their cocks but Max holds me in place and continues fucking me in a brutal pace making all of my juice stray all over.
"Next time you cum, it's gonna be when we fill you up with our cum," Charles tells me making me shake.
At their pace, I can feel myself growing close faster than I would have liked.
"Close," I gasp between moans.
"5" Max starts both Charles and I's cum count down. It wasn't something we did all the time but when we did Charles and I loved it knowing by 2 or 3 we are both ready to cum.
"4, both you little whore better hold it," Max grits out making it clear that he was also on the same edge we were on.
"3" Max finally says after what felt like forever even though it was probably only a couple of seconds.
"Please, Max" Charles moans out making it clear he wasn't gonna last much longer.
"2, Charles, you better fucking hold it," Max grits out again continuing his brutal pace on my pussy.
"1, cum for me," Max grits out which has all of us falling over the edge together. I can feel cum filling my ass and pussy helping me ride out the most intense orgasm of the night.
Once we all come down from the high of our pleasure, I feel Charles slowly slipping from my ass making me whine own from the burn of it.
"Sorry, Cherie," Charles whispers out once he's fully out. He leans down and gives the back of my head a couple kisses.
I slowly start climbing off of Max's dick making both of us hiss in from the sensitivity we were both going through.
We give ourselves a couple of minutes to regroup our thoughts before we start our aftercare routine. Which consists of plenty of kisses, reassurance, a shower, and of course plenty of cuddles with our fur babies.
Hey! Can I order a pizza with thin crust, red sauce bacon and pulled pork. As a drink Diet Pepsi, black tea and truly, no dessert. With Max Verstappen as a server
Thank youuu <3
Lee-Lee's Pizzeria Menu
thin crust brother's best friend red sauce rough sex bacon "What would your brother think if he caught us" pulled pork "God, I love when I fuck the attitude out of you" diet pepsi biting black tea choking truly belly bulge dessert no served by Max Verstappen
TW - choking, biting, belly bulge, unprotected sex, creampie
WC 900+
Y/N POV
"Max, literally go back to your own garage," I snap at the Dutch man standing in front of me. The same man who managed to wake me up far too early this morning.
"Schat, I literally apologized already! Stop being a fucking brat," Max snaps back making me groan and roll my eyes.
"Max! How the fuck did you manage to drop not 1, not 2, but 3 different things this morning. First, it was your fucking shoes you intentionally dropped onto the bed, then you drop my fucking Stanley after pressing a kiss on my forehead, and then those fucking keys! Can you learn to have some damn conside-" But I'm cut off mid fight by Max pushing me up against the wall of my brother's driver room holding my throat in his hand giving it a slight squeeze.
"Shut up! Drop the fucking attitude! I apologized already. The shoes where placed onto the bed, it wasn't my fault you shifted which resulted in you kicking them, the Stanley only fell onto the ground because YOU pushed me away when I tried to give you your good bye kiss and the keys fell because YOU snapped at me for dropping the Stanley and it scared me," Max seethes through clenched teeth while still choking me slightly.
"Max," I gasp when I feel his grip get a bit tighter cutting off my airflow even more.
"What has gotten into you. Been such a fucking brat lately," Max says getting up into my face still keeping his strong grip on my throat.
"I have not!" I snap back making Max tighten his grip while raising a brow.
"Wrong, one more chance to fix that answer," Max says back making me whimper knowing I was gonna have to admit I just missed him.
"Just miss you. Need you," I admit softly while closing my eyes in shame.
"Oh, so you're fucking needy and you thought picking a fight with me on a race weekend was gonna work?" Max asked clearly getting more frustrated with my admission.
"I mean, you're choking me out in my brother's driver room, so yes it worked," I reply back with a smirk making Max scoff and completely cut off all airflow for a few seconds before he released my neck and stormed out of the room leaving me alone with a light smirk.
When I got back to Max and I's hotel room later that night Max was already back and sitting on the bed in just his briefs.
"Strip," Max calls out through the room making me look at him slightly confused.
"Don't give me that look, strip," Max calls again which has me slowly putting my purse down on a chair near me before I started slowly slipping out of the dress I was wearing and unclipping my bra. Once I've slipped my panties down my legs Max is climbing out of the bed and approaching me. Once Max had successfully cornered me against the wall he pulled me in for a kiss.
"Been so desperate lately," Max mumbled against my lips as he started trailing his mouth from mine down to my neck where I felt him sink his teeth into my sweet spot making me gasp.
"Fuck," I moan when I feel him graze his teeth into my sweet spot before he moved his mouth away and replaced it with his hand where he started lightly choking me again.
"If you missed me you should have just told me, not pick a fight with me over some keys falling on the ground," Max roughly tells me while getting up close and personal.
"M'sorry," I mumble best I can.
"Mhm, I'm sure you are," Max says while roughly ripping me from the wall and dragging me to the bed where he climbed into the bed and quickly grazed a couple fingers through my folds making me gasp at the feeling.
"Already soaked," Max says with a smirk before pulling his boxers off and instantly pushing his full length into my pussy giving me no time to adjust before he is brutally thrusting in and out of my pussy making me scream at the pleasurable pain.
"Fuck," I moan when I feel Max bring his hand back to my neck giving it a light squeeze.
"What would your brother think if he caught us," Max asks with a smirk speeding up his thrusts making me gasp when I open my eyes and notice the bulge that appears each time Max fucked into me.
"I'm too big for this little pussy I had to make room in your tummy," Max says with a smirk moving his hand from my throat down to my tummy where he pushed down making all the pleasure more intense.
"Fuck, Max," I cry out when I feel my orgasm start to build.
"Is this what you needed? Needed to come back to our room and let me destroy your little pussy?" Max asks through clenched teeth clearly feeling his orgasm start to build as well.
"Yes," I gasp out getting extremely close to the edge.
"God, I love when I fuck the attitude out of you. Cum for me," Max says while speeding his thrusts up throwing me over the edge into a powerful orgasm.
"Fuck," I scream out at my peak hits feeling Max start to cum deep into my pussy making me gasp at the feeling of being filled up.
"So good," I whine as Max slowly starts to pull his cock out before laying down next to me and giving me a soft kiss.
Kinktober Day 3 - Thigh Riding - MV1
Max Verstappen X Reader
TW - Thigh riding, blow job, deep throat, sub! reader
WC - 950+
Y/N POV
I allow my horniness to grow more and more while sitting on the couch watching Max on the Sim. I know he's not streaming right now which I use to my advantage because the next thing I know Im pulling my shorts and panties down before sitting back on the couch and playing with my wet pussy.
It has never been a secret in our relationship that I had a thing for Max's thighs. The way they kept tensing and relaxing based on how he was driving was driving me absolutely insane.
It didn't take long for my moans to grow loud enough that Max is turning in his sim to see what I was doing.
"Schat, what's gotten into you," Max asks breaking me out of the little world I was currently in.
"Please," I whine out moving my eyes from his thighs to make eye contact with him. I can see the smirk written all over his face before he gestures with a nod for me to come to him. When I get up I can feel how soaked I had become.
"What's got you like this," Max asks when I get right next to the sim. I can't answer I'm too focused on my soaked pussy which has juices starting to slide down my thighs. This has Maz's eyes flicking down to see just how drenched I was.
"Please, Maxie," I whine out when Max decided to take his hand and start softly teasing my throbbing clit.
"Gotta tell me what's got you like this," Max answered making me whine, 'cause he knows how much I hate admitting what's put me into the mood. Especially when it comes to his thighs cause for whatever reason I find it embarrassing.
I just flick my eyes down to his thighs hoping that was enough of an answer. This has Max chuckling a little before saying, "Words. I need words Schat."
"Your thighs, Maxie," I mumble out before making eye contact again and I can see just how smug that makes him.
"How?" Max asks cheekily while still teasing my clit.
"Maxie," I whine out.
"Schat, answer the question and I promise I'll give you whatever you want," Max says before sinking two fingers into my tight pussy which has me moaning out.
"They looked so good when you were on the sim," I breathe out finally which has Max pulling his fingers out and pulling me onto one of his thighs.
I didn't need any help, I was instantly grinding down on his thigh instantly leaving a wet spot on his gray sweats.
"Fuck, Maxie," I whine out once I found the perfect pace and pressure.
"Schat, you look so good. Drenching my thigh with your pussy," Max whispers out into my neck while leaving soft kisses scattered all over my collarbones.
The closer I get the worse my rhythm gets which has Max gripping my waist to help guide me.
"Can I cum, Maxie?" I whine out, feeling myself ready to fall over the edge.
"Cum for me, schat" Max tells me while speeding up his movements.
"Oh fuck," I moan out right as I fall over the edge. As I'm cumming Max continues the movements with my hips to make sure I ride my orgasm out.
As soon as I come down from my intense orgasm I instantly fall into Max's chest to catch my breath and hopefully allow the post-orgasm shakes to calm down a little.
Once I have fully relaxed into Max's chest I reach between us to fish out Max's hard cock out of his sweats. The second I get my hands around his cock Max is already started to moan out.
"Fuck, schat, feels so good," Max moans out as I start picking up my pace.
Without thinking twice I slide out of Max's lap and between his legs making sure to not hit my head on the desk or mess with any of the sim floorboard.
Once I'm comfortably on my knees I instantly take make into my mouth which makes him groan out at the contact.
"Schat," Max whines out when I start to deep-throat him. This was something we had been working on together for a while and I was happy I could finally put my new talent to good work.
When my nose hit his blond pubes I could feel Max start to shake, which signaled he was getting closer. While still actively deepthroating Max I start to massage his balls which throws him over the edge.
"Fuck, I'm cumming," Max groans out while holding my hair in his fist to keep me in place as he cums down my throat. I make sure to swallow every last drop of his cum before slowly pulling off of his cock with a loud pop that echoed throughout the apartment.
When I finally start to pull myself back into Max's lap I notice how massive of a wet spot I left behind which makes my cheeks grow red in embarrassment before hiding my face in Max's neck.
"Schat, don't hide from me," Max says while pulling my chin out from his neck before pulling me in for some soft kisses.
"Maxie, that's so embarrassing," I groan out still red in the face from how soaked I left Max's thigh.
"Nothing embarrassing, Schat! It's hot to see how good something as simple as my thigh gets you so turned on," Max tells me while pulling me down for a few more kisses.
"Let's go shower. I want you to come on my cock now," Max says while pulling us both out of the sim and taking us to the master bathroom.
Hiii, could i order a Thin Crust with Red Sauce with Pepperoni, Green Peppers, Gouda Cheese, Parmesan Cheese and to drink an Boba, Coke, Mt. Dew (sub) and Root Beer with desert served by Lewis and Max <3
Pleasee thanks!!
Lee-Lee's Pizzeria Menu
thin crust brother's best friend red sauce rough sex pepperoni "Be a good girl, and you'll get what you want" green peppers "I'm gonna have that ass glowing red by the time I'm done with you" gouda “Slow down? You just told me to speed up, make up your mind silly girl” parmesan "Awe... did that hurt? Tuff luck I'm gonna do it again" boba anal coke spanking mt dew dom/sub root beer daddy kink dessert yes served by Max Verstappen and Lewis Hamilton
Max x Lewis x Norris! Reader
TW - fighting, slight daddy kink, rough, spanking, multiple orgasms, anal, double penetration, creampie, and anal creampie (is there another name for an anal creampie?)
WC 2500+
Y/N POV
"Max please leave me alone about it," I snap at one of my boyfriends after he had been complaining about the same thing for the past hour.
"I love you to death but you're complaining about my brother. I will not pick sides between you guys," I add on softly when Max just looked at my with a raised brow.
"I understand that and I'm not even upset with your brother he had a great race I'm mad about the car I've been fucking given," Max tells me back making me nod my head.
"I understand that, but you have to see it from my perspective. I love you both and I want both of you to do well and I'm sorry your car is actually shit but I don't like that you make me feel guilty for being happy for my brother," I explain back knowing this has been needing to be a conversation for awhile. Max, Lewis, and I have all been together for the past year and a half, this year specifically Max and I have been at each other's throats because being Lando Norris's twin sister has made it really interesting when he's doing really good but I also have to be supportive of my boyfriends who were starting to struggle a bit this season.
"Are you fucking kidding me? I make you feel guilty for being happy for Lando? You make me feel like shit everytime I talk about having a bad race and I can see it on your face it's like you don't even care because you brother did good," Max snaps back making me look at him with a dead stare.
"Max, I'm really sorry if I made you feel like that. It was never once my intention," I tell him softly wanting him to know I value his feelings even if I don't feel like he's even think about mine in this moment.
"It's whatever, I knew you would always have more loyalty to Lando anyways," Max says completely disregarding it like it was nothing.
"I think we just need to be seperated until Lewis gets home," I tells him softly while getting up from the couch and making my way into our shared room where I find Sassy and Rosco cuddling on the bed.
I climbed into the bed with them and fall asleep into a short nap wanting to forget this whole afternoon.
"I heard you and Max got into a fight," I hear Lewis say softly while rubbing my back to wake me up.
"He's been making me feel bad for being happy for my brother, and I've been making him feel bad because I'm happy for my brother. It's a lose lose and I want this whole season to just be over. Hope he gets the fucking Driver Championship and I never have to talk about this season again," I mumble making Lewis chuckle softly.
"I think you guys need to talk it out," Lewis tells me making me nod my head in agreeance.
"I'll go get him," Lewis tells me softly while leaving the room to get Max who was in the sim room passing time.
When they got back into the room I could see the frustration still lingering in Max's eye making me sit up a bit more ready for a serious conversation.
"Okay, let me just start with I think both of you have a right to feel the way you feel. Max you make her feel bad about being happy for Lando. She is allowed to be excited to see him win and support him in his fight for his first title. Just because she is extremely happy for her brother doesn't mean she wants you to lose either. She's in a tough spot. However, Y/N Max has every right to feel slightly hurt watching you go into the Mclaren garage after your brother had a good race while he struggled. It's selfish yes but he's allowed to wish his girlfriend was in his room comforting him," Lewis states making me grow frustrated.
"See, you said it yourself. It's fucking selfish is what Max is. I try to be there for him but everytime I am he's always shit talking my brother, and I get it, it's post race frustration coming out however I won't stand for that. Back in Baku when Lando finished 4th and you 5th I didn't even want to be in the same room as you when I heard you telling Lewis that being overtaken by Lando who started P15 was one of the most embarrassing moments in your career," I rant clearly getting frustrated with everything.
"Oh boo fucking hoo, grow up Y/N. You knew getting into this relationship it would be like this. I'm not gonna apologize for the things I say in the heat of the moment. I'm allowed to be mad and upset," Max says making me throw my hands up in defeat.
"Maybe I should go stay somewhere else for the night," I say softly while climbing out of bed to prepare a bag.
"That won't be necessary love, we can work this out," Lewis says softly following me into the closet.
"He's impossible right now, he's hurt I don't get to only be a fan of him. He has to share me with you and my brother. I get it, I would be frustrated too but I will not apologize for being happy for him," I tell Lewis softly making him pull me in for a hug.
"It'll work itself out," Lewis tells me softly.
"Go get back in bed," Lewis continues making me groan but slowly go back into our shared room and into bed next to Max who had Jimmy in his lap.
"Both of you need to fuck it out or fight it out, but neither one are leaving until you guys can come to an understanding. I don't give a fuck what it is but I will not let either of you leave until something is resolved. You guys have been fighting nonstop since before summer break and it's time to set aside differences," Lewis tells us while softly picking Jimmy up and placing him outside the room while making sure the other pets where out of the room as well.
"I'll start," I say softly making Max scoff and roll his eyes.
"You always fucking start," Max says clearly annoyed with everything.
"Cut the shit out Max or I'm gonna have that ass glowing red by the time I'm done with you," Lewis says clearly getting frustrated with Max.
"You can start," I tell him making him sit in silence for a few minutes.
"I don't know, I think Lewis is right, I am selfish and a part of me wishes that you can be a fan of me and only a fan of me. I don't even like seeing you walk around in Mercedes merch let alone fucking McLaren stuff. There's days where I wish you could just be a fan of me," Max explains softly making me smile lightly. It was the most mature conversation we had been able to have about this.
"I can understand that. I wouldn't like seeing you repping another team if I was a driver, however I wish you could see it how I do. I love you more than just about anyone in this world but that doesn't mean I don't love my brother and want to support him too. I think I have an idea," I explain to Max before thinking of a plan.
"What if when we come back next month in Austin I spent the whole weekend only wearing Max or Redbull things. I will of course still visit my brother and Lewis in their respective garage but I will only wear stuff for you the whole weekend, and then maybe next season we pick a day of the race schedule that I only wear Redbull things," I tell Max softly making his face light up at the thought of only wearing Redbull for a weekend.
"I would like that," Max says after a moment of thought.
"Can we please stop fighting about this? Whatever happens at the end of this season win or lose you and Lewis will still be my number 1s," I tell Max making him nod his head softly.
"Yes, and if we have further issues we talk it out with each other and not put Lewis in the middle of things," Max agrees and further comes up with a plan making me smile and nod my head.
"I love you Max Emillian," I say softly making Max groan at the use of his middle name.
"I love you too Y/N YM/N," Max replies back making me smile softly. I lean over to Max and pull him in for a kiss that quickly turns heated as he pulls me into his lap and lets me start grinding against him.
"I've missed you," I tell Max softly knowing that this season we have been so at odds that we haven't been nearly as close with each other as previous years.
"I've missed this," Max says with a groan leaving his voice when I start grinding down harder into him.
"You horny boy," I joke making both Max and Lewis laugh softly reminding me that Lewis was still in the room with us.
I turn my gaze to him to show him that I want him to join. When Lewis quickly climbs into bed with us my lips are on his within moments before he moves his lips down to Max's pulling him in for a heated makeout.
I start grinding into Max's lap a bit harder while begging for more.
"Be a good girl, and you'll get what you want," Lewis groans against Max's lips before pulling me in for another kiss.
Lewis drags me off of Max's lap and strips me down to nothing before pushing me onto all fours where he starts laying harsh slaps on my ass.
"Daddy, Why," I whine out when I feel the spanks become progressively harder, leaving me to become a whimpering mess.
"You know that you're not allowed to leave in a fight. We agreed we would talk everything out. I'm gonna give you 10 more and I want you to count them out," Lewis said making me whine in retaliation.
"1" I call out softly when the first one lands on my right cheek.
""5" I gasp out after Lewis lands 4 hard spanks on my left cheek all landing in the same spot."
"It hurts," I cry out trying to shift my hips away only making Lewis grip onto them tighter to keep me in place.
"Awe... did that hurt? Tuff luck I'm gonna do it again," Lewis teased before landing another spank.
"6" I cry out when I feel another really hard one in the same spot. I'm only 6 in and I'm already a sobbing mess under Lewis.
"10" I gasp out after Lewis landed another 4 all in the same spot on my right ass cheek.
"Why did I punish you?" Lewis questions while pulling me up to his chest while he softly rubs my ass to soothe it.
"Because I got up and started packing a bag even though we agreed that I can't leave in the middle of a fight," I hiccup out into Lewis's chest still slightly crying from the pain my ass had endured.
The no leaving in a fight became a rule after our first fight when I just left the apartment mid-fight because I didn't know how to express myself properly and I became anxious when we fought. When I finally came back Max had tears streaming down his face and was fighting Lewis to report me as a missing person. After that, we had a long tough conversation about how we would be moving forward.
Max pulls me back up into his lap already stripped into nothing before easily sliding into me making me whimper. Lewis climbed behind me teasing my ass with a bit of cold lube before sinking 2 fingers into my ass to make sure I was stretched enough to take his cock.
"Fuck, Daddy," I whimper when Lewis pull his fingers out before shoving the tip of his cock into my ass making me scream out at the stretch of having 2 cocks filling me up.
"Oh my god," I moan out when Lewis starts pushing his thick cock into my tight ass.
Once Lewis was all the way into my ass both of the boys gave me a few seconds to adjust to the stretch but started thrusting into me when I started grinding my hips showing them that I was ready for more stimulation.
"Faster, please," I beg before leaning down and capturing Max's lips with mine while both boys instantly sped up throwing me over the edge and into a loud shakey orgasm.
Even once I had come down from my massive orgasm neither one of the boys slowed down leaving me to become a mess in their laps. I was shaking me moaning trying to get away which only made Lewis's grip on my hips tighten.
"Slower please," I gasp when I finally find my voice.
“Slow down? You just told me to speed up, make up your mind silly girl,” Max scoffs showing no clear signs of slowing down.
"Fuck," I moan when I feel myself starting to build to another orgasm.
"Look so pretty when you cry," Max says with a smirk making me whine slightly.
"God, she's gonna cum for us again," Lewis gasps when he feels my ass clenching around him in preparation for another orgasm.
"Cum for us," Max groans before pulling me down for another kiss making me scream into his mouth when I start cumming all over their cocks.
I could tell Max was cumming from the way his grunts turned into higher-pitched whines while his hips faltered slightly while filling me up.
Lewis wasn't too far behind sending one final harsh thrust before he was filling my ass up with his hot cum.
Once the three of us have come down from our highs the boys slowly slip out of my abused holes letting their cum leak and start to pool on the bedspread.
Lewis was the first to get out of bed grabbing a towel and some cooling lotion. He cleaned both Max and I up first before softly rubbing the lotion on my ass to help it cool down after the brutal assault Lewis gave me with his heavy hand.
Once the room was picked up a bit and Max and I were clothed and comfortably in each other's arms Lewis opened the door letting all three of our fur babies into the room. Sassy and Jimmy instantly crawled onto Max's lap while Sassy nudged my hand with her head clearly wanting some attention before Rosco and Lewis followed and comfortably got into bed with us. Rosco had found his way to me before he made himself comfortable on top of me making Lewis laugh and shake his head.
"The guy loves you more than he had ever loved me," Lewis jokes before petting his head and placing a soft kiss on my head.
Hi! Can I please make an order of a pizza with sicilian crust and red sauce with salami, roasted peppers, gouda cheese, Canadian bacon, kielbasa and kalee for toppings. I would also like a wine and a coke for drinks and no dessert for Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc. Thank you so much
(I think I went a bit wild there. Hope that's okay. Also I sent a similar request previously so if you got both I am sorry there was a glitch on my side.)
Lee-Lee's Pizzeria Menu
sicilian crust dating red sauce rough sex salami "Such a little cum slut" roasted peppers "Such a good whore" gouda “Slow down? You just told me to speed up, make up your mind silly girl” canadian bacon "Do you need an attitude adjustment" kielbasa "A preschooler is better behaved than you are" kale "I love knowing I ruined you so good you can only cum when I make you" wine free use kink coke spanking served by Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc
TW - multiple orgasms, rough sex, dom Charles, dom Max, rough sex, cum swallowing, spanking, creampie, unprotected sex, face fucking, spit roasting
WC 1400+
Y/N POV
"Well hello, schat," Max says while circling behind me in the kitchen and lifting my long shirt up exposing my bare ass to him where he sends down a harsh slap on my ass making me whine at the sharp pain.
"You gonna be good for us today?" Max asks making me look back at him with hooded eyes.
"Probably not, you always fuck me the best when I misbehave," I reply back with a smirk making him slap my ass 5 times in quick succession giving me no time to breathe until the quick assault is over.
"Asshole," I mumble not loud enough for Max to hear which resulted in him slapping my ass again.
"Speak up," He said slapping my ass once again.
"I said you're an asshole," I mumble loud enough for him to hear this time.
"A preschooler is better behaved than you are," Max said slapping my ass once again making me whimper at the sting.
"I'll be good," I finally break after being spanked enough to leave my ass red for the next few hours.
"You better, Charlie will be home in an hour and he wants to come home to a good girl now a fucking brat," Max whispered into my ear sending one last warning spank on my ass.
The next hour was filled with me making dinner and meal prepping for the boys for the next week they would be spending at home catching up on relaxation before we headed on a holiday during the month-long break we had until Austin.
Once Charles comes into the apartment he finds Max and I cuddling on the couch. With the way that I was laying on Max's chest, my shirt had ridden up my back slightly exposing the red ass I had been supporting since Max found me in the kitchen.
"I see you had a brat on your hands," Charles says to Max while lightly rubbing my ass before sending his own slap down on it making me whimper and bury my face into Max's chest making me chuckle at my attempt to hide.
"Just her usual attitude," Max said while stroking my back softly.
Charles finally leaned down and placed a soft kiss on my lips before placing a kiss on Max's lips.
"Dinner will be ready in 2 hours," I tell Charles softly making him smile.
"Okay, both of you in the bedroom, now," Charles says to Max and I making Max sit up and carry me into our shared room where he roughly dropped me on the bed making me bounce and hitting my head softly on the headboard.
"Be careful, gonna give me a fucking concussion," I snap rubbing the spot in the back of my head where Max had accidentally dropped me too close to the headboard.
"I'm sor-" Max started but was quickly cut off by Charles.
"Do you need an attitude adjustment?" Charles snaps while slapping my inner thigh making me whimper at his aggression.
"He's the one who dropped me-" I tried arguing back but was cut off by Charles flipping me onto my stomach and laying down some brutal spanks.
I could tell Max and Charles were taking turns in slapping my ass simply by the way the force switches up every few seconds.
The ass beating lasts another few seconds leaving me a whimpering mess under my two boyfriends. But finally, I feel Charles roughly ripping my panties off my body before he shoves his fingers deep into my pussy finding just how much I was enjoying it.
"Such a good whore. Already soaked and ready for us to use her," Charles says while teasing my clit with his thumb while still having two of his fingers buried deep into me.
"So damn needy," Max whispers against my ear making me whimper before feeling another slap ring out in the room before my brain processes that he had roughly slapped my ass again.
"She fucking loves that, clenching so tight every time you hit her," Charles said with a smirk in his voice. Charles and Max loved talking about me as if I wasn't in the room, and truthfully I loved feeling like I was just a toy for them to use whenever they pleased.
Suddenly I lose all stimulation which makes me turn slightly to see both of my boyfriends stripping down leaving both of their hard cocks to swing slightly between their legs as they climb back into bed making Charles sit right in front of me squeezing into the little space between me and the headboard. His back was resting against the headboard while he roughly takes my hair into a makeshift ponytail and forces my face onto his cock and taking him deep into his mouth making me gag roughly.
I whimper around his cock from how roughly he was abusing my mouth, but the whimper quickly turns into a scream when Max slips into my pussy without giving me much of a break to adjust to his size.
I was being used in a spit roast quickly becoming overwhelmed with all of the pleasure coursing through my body.
When Charles pushes my head down and holds me there while gagging around his cock I can hear Max groaning.
"Fuck, keep gagging her, she clenches so good," Max hissed making Charles start to face fucking me again making sure to hit my gag reflexes every time.
I could feel my spit start to roll down my chin while tears were pouring out of my eyes.
When Charles finally pulled my head up for some air I took a deep breath before whimpering out a weak "Faster, please."
This had Max speeding up his thrusting while Charles and fucking me back onto his cock again. I was whimpering around Charles's cock while Max continued to brutally fuck into my pussy hitting my cervix as he goes.
I was quickly becoming overwhelmed with the pleasure coursing through my body but I could feel my orgasm approaching making me lift my head from Charles's cock and scream out as I start cumming all over Max's cock making Max groan and keep fucking into me quickly overstimulating me.
"Please, slow down," I whimper before Charles is forcing me back onto his cock to shut me up.
“Slow down? You just told me to speed up, make up your mind silly girl,” Max teases still keeping up the pace that will surely leave me sore in the morning.
I feel Charles bury his cock deep into my throat holding me on his cock while I gag before I feel him tense under me and start releasing a large load down my throat. I was still gagging around his cock which made some of his cum spray out between my lips making some of his cum splatter against his pubic area that was shaved clean. I could tell some of it was leaking down my chin as well before Charles pulls his cock out letting me swallow the majority of his load before he's pushing my head down and told me to clean the mess I made.
I make quick work of licking up the splattered cum leaving Charles's cock and pubic area wet with my spit.
"Such a little cum slut," Charles says while watching me lick up all of his cum.
I could feel myself starting to clench around Max's cock letting me know that I was getting closer to cumming all over his cock again.
"Cum with me," Max groans out when he feels me starting to tense. I could feel Max send one last rough thrust deep into my pussy where he starts unleashing a large load making me whimper out before I start cumming all over his cock while shaking. I could barely stay up on my knees which had Max holding my hips up while he started rocking his hips making sure to ride our orgasms out and prolonging mine.
"I love knowing I ruined you so good you can only cum when I make you" Max groans when he finally slips his soaked cock from my pussy making me whimper at the loss of being full.
"Thank you," I gasp out while pulling myself into Charles's chest feeling his arms wrap around me and place a soft kiss on my forehead.
Max was the one who cock up and started cleaning off his two loves before falling into the bed next to us and pulling us in for a three-way cuddle.
Hi! I would like to make a pizza order with a sicilian crust and res sauce. I would like green peppers, salami, spinach and mozzarella and no dessert. For drinks, I would like a coke and a wine for Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc please. Thank you
Lee-Lee's Pizzeria Menu
sicilian crust dating red sauce rough sex green peppers "I'm gonna have that ass glowing red by the time I'm done with you" salami "Such a little cum slut" spinach "Awe I love to know I stretched you out just enough to take all my cock" mozzarella “All you ever do is bitch and complain, just fucking take it” coke spanking wine free use kink dessert no served by Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc
Max Verstappen x Charles Leclerc x poly! reader
TW spanking, finger fucking, unprotected sex, creampie, blow job, cum swallowing, finger fucking, MDNI 18+
WC 1300+
Y/N POV
"Our hotel 8pm, do not be late" Max whispers in my ear making me nod softly before getting back to work.
As the day goes on I can't help but think about what's gonna happen tonight. This is how it works, when Charles and Max need a third they give me a time and a place and I'm expected to be there, and if I need a release I do the same.
I don't leave the Red Bull hospitality until late due to extra work needing to be done so by the time I'm knocking on the door ten minutes late.
"You're late," Charles said when opening the door.
"I'm aware, it's not my fault," I said while walking into their hotel room before plopping on the couch next to Max.
"I told you to be on time," Max says roughly making me shake my head.
"Tell Horner to not hold me late so you can wet your dick," I snap not enjoying the attitude I'm receiving from both of the men.
My attitude snaps something in Max cause the next thing I know I'm being dragged across his lap and pulling the skirt I'm wear up to expose my pale ass to him.
"I'm gonna have that ass glowing red by the time I'm done with you" Max says before landing a rough slap right on my ass, making me whine at the sting.
"Fuck," I moan when he sends another slap to my ass.
"Don't start being a brat now," Max roughly states before sending another hard slap to my ass making me scream out again.
"Fuck, Max," I groan when his rough hand is rubbing the place he just slapped.
I feel another 3 slaps fly down in quick successions making me jolt forward while screaming out at the quick and harsh pain that is sending pleasure straight to my core.
"No more," I moan out. The pain was far from unbearable but the throb between my thighs is becoming unbearable.
"All you ever do is bitch and complain, just fucking take it” Max says sending another several slaps on my ass making me moan.
When Max has reddened my ass to his liking I feel Charles's hands on my hip pulling me up and turning me around to pull me in for a messy makeout.
He leads us to the bed where he softly pushes me onto the bed before climbing on top of me and grinding his hardening cock into my throbbing core.
"Charlie, please," I whine bucking my hips up trying to get more stimulation.
"Patience," Charles mumbles starting to trail his kisses down my body, starting to pull my shirt up making me sit up slightly so he can pull it off all the way. Once my shirt has been discarded somewhere in the room he makes quick work of unclipping my bra and discarding it too before going back to kissing down my neck where he settles on my tits and pulls my nipple into his mouth and gives it a strong suck before moving to my other nipple.
I feel Max crawl into bed near my face before he's leaning down and pulling me in for another kiss making me whimper into his lips at hot rough he is being.
I feel my skirt and thong be pulled down and thrown to join the rest of my clothes on the floor before he groans making me gasp when his breath hits my pussy.
"She's fucking drench," Charles tells Max making Max smirk against my lips proud of himself.
"Such a good slut, getting drenched from your spanking," Max whispers making me moan when Charles takes a small lick at my clit.
"More," I moan needing Charles to pick up the pace. Charles listens but only slightly. He sped up his actions but was still moving at such a teasing pace making me moan loudly.
"Fuck, feels so good," I mumble against Max's lips.
Charles finally slipped a few fingers into my pussy stretching me out making me scream at the pleasure coursing through me.
"Fuck," I moan when Charles starts finger fucking me and sucking on my clit bringing me to the edge and threatening to fall into a strong orgasm.
"Cum for him," Max mumbles against my lips while pulling one of my nipples between his fingers and giving it a tug, and throwing me over the edge from all of the stimulation coursing through my body.
Charles makes sure to help ride my orgasm out while Max holds me down slightly making sure I can't wiggle away from the pleasure.
Once I start cumming down from my orgasm Charles slows his actions down before slowly pulling away. It doesn't take long for Max to pull me up the bed slightly before flipping me over so I'm on my stomach.
I instantly get on my knees and arch my back. I feel Max shuffle behind me before Charles appears in front of me with his shirt and pants off leaving me to stare at his large cock making my mouth water slightly.
I instantly pull Charles's cock into my hand before I start sucking on the tip making Charles hiss at the pleasure. While I'm slowly jerking Charles's cock I feel the tip of Max's cock start teasing my pussy making me moan around Charles's cock sending vibrations down on him making him moan.
When Max slips into my pussy I pull off CHarles's cock and scream slightly from how full I felt.
Awe I love to know I stretched you out just enough to take all my cock" Max groans when he starts picking up the pace of his thrust making me moan loudly before pulling Charles back into my mouth.
"Fuck, so good," Charles groans pulling my hair into a makeshift pony helping me to bob my head on his cock faster, making me gag around his cock.
I can feel Max's pace start to pick up making me moan that is easily muffled by Charles's large cock.
"Fuck, she's gonna cum again," Max groans to Charles making me clench around him from being talked about like I couldn't hear him.
"Cum for Max," Charles says making me instantly cum all around Max's cock feeling his hips start to buck erratically before feeling him start to cum deep into my pussy.
He continues to fuck me making sure to help us ride our orgasms out. I could tell Charles was close to the edge as well which has me pulling him all the way into my mouth and down my throat making me gag before Charles starts unleashing a large load of his cum down my throat making me start swallowing instantly.
"Such a little cum slut," Charles groans when he slips his cock out, making me whine slightly. I loved having Charles's cock filling my mouth up as much as he loved having his cock shoved down my throat.
I feel Max slowly slip out of my pussy making me gasp at the emptiness before moaning slightly when his cum starts to leak down my pussy and over my sensitive clit.
"God I could watch my cum leak out of this pussy all day," Max groans before swiping his fingers through my folds and pushing two fingers into my pussy making me moan.
"I wanna see you cum again," Max says while starting to finger fuck me.
"Fuck," I moan when I can feel my orgasm approaching far sooner than it should. After having two strong orgasms I get so sensitive it doesn't take much to cum again and Max knew this.
"Come on, cum for me," Max groans speeding up his fingers before bringing his thumb down to tease my clit making me scream out as I start cumming all over Max's fingers.
"Good girl," Max says while riding my orgasm out before slipping his fingers out and offering them to Charles so he can lick them clean.
"Fuck, that's hot," I whisper as I watch Charles twirl his tongue around Max's cum soaked fingers. Charles just groans at the favor before pulling away and placing a wet kiss on my lips making sure I can taste Max and I's cum mixing together.
Hi, can I get the following with Max please:
- Gluten free crust
- Red sauce
- Olives
- Peperoni
- Jalapeños
- Chicken
- Roasted peppers
- Ham
- Argula
- Pulled pork
- Beer
- Pepsi
- Root beer
- Dessert
Lee-Lee's Pizzeria Menu
gluten-free enemies to lovers red sauce rough sex olives "Swallow every last bit. NOW!" pepperoni "Be a good girl, and you'll get what you want" jalapenos "Always such a fucking brat" chicken "Awe, you thought I'd let you cum that easy?" roasted peppers "Such a good whore" ham "You're so infuriating. Walking around like you own the place and then come back to my room to get fucked properly" arugula "I love stretching this pussy out" chorizo "God, I love when I fuck the attitude out of you" beer edging pepsi oral kink root beer daddy kink served by Max Verstappen
TW mean max, face fuck, degrading terms, cum swallowing, pussy eating, unprotected set, slight size kink, multiple orgasms, edging, cummin on body
WC 2900+
Y/N POV
"Max they need you in the car now," I shout through the door trying to get Max to get out of his driver's room.
"Leave me alone little Horner," Max says walking past me and brushing shoulders with me quite aggressively. I just roll my eyes at the attitude radiating off of Max.
I just walk in the other direction not wanting to get into it with Max today. I was the daughter of Christian Horner, and Max and I have never gotten along. Even when we were both young teenagers we would still find a way to bicker back and forth. Back when we were younger it would be over stupid things like what type of coffee was better. Now, that we are older and I work for Red Bull Max has taken it upon himself to make sure to make my work life a living hell.
As the race day continues I watch as Checo is excelling on the Baku track while Max is currently fighting to not get overtaken by Lando who started in the back of the grid.
When Lando overtook Max I had to contain my laugh knowing the engineers around me were not enjoying Max's race. I think the race is pretty much a wrap when all of a sudden I watch as Checo and Carlos collide into the way making me cringe as all of Checo's hard work this weekend is down the drain in a matter of seconds.
I brace myself for the shouts that start ringing out in our garage even hearing Ferrari shouting from how loud they had gotten.
When the race finally finished under a VSC I continued watching as Max's starts overtaking Lando and George. I hear Lando start mentioning Max making me smirk a little. I knew he wasn't gonna get into any kind of trouble but it was funny listening in on him getting snitched on.
Once everything starts to calm down from the intense ending of the race I make my way back into the hospitality to pack up my stuff to head back to the hotel and get some rest before my early morning flight tomorrow.
"You're the last person I fucking want to see right now," Max shouts when I walk into one of the conference rooms to gather my laptop and the rest of my belongings I left in here during the race.
"I'm just getting my stuff," I say softly not wanting to get into a screaming match with Max.
"I'm sure you are," Max says rolling his eyes like I had told some lie.
"What are you getting at Max?" I snap at him when I make it to the corner where my bag of stuff is sitting.
"I just think it's ironic you just so happen to always be where I am. It's like you're fucking obsessed with me," Max says while standing up and approaching me, making me start to back up slightly.
When my back hits the wall Max is now standing face to face with me.
"Max, back up," I whisper starting to get a bit scared. Max and I had always gone at it but he had also never once gotten into my face before.
"Come back to my hotel with me. I'm fucking exhausted from fighting off the sexual frustration," Max says making me gasp before laughing slightly.
"you're fucking insane if you think we have sexual tension between us and you need to go to a mental hospital if you thought THAT would work on me," I say before pushing him back and attempting to try and leave.
When Max grabs my wrist I groan knowing he wasn't done with the conversation.
"One night, let me fuck you till the sunrises and then we go back to whatever this is," Max says making me step to him so we are back to being chest to chest.
"No," I simply say trying to turn around again but stop in my tracks when Max shouts again.
"One fucking night," Max shouts. I instantly turn back around pushing at his chest a little making him stumble.
"Max if I go back with you and you don't have me on the edge of cumming within 5 minutes I'm getting up and going back to my room," I tell him sternly.
"I only need 2," Max says cockily making me shake my head before leaving the room.
When I get back to my hotel room I take a quick shower and get partially ready kind of hoping the plans between Max and I weren't just a heated discussion after a bad race.
I'm not even halfway through brushing my teeth when I get a notification on my phone letting me know Max had texted me. When I finished brushing I picked up my phone to see what Max said
"Be here in 10. 342"
I quickly change before stepping out of my room to head for the elevator to head up to Max's room. I feel like I should be having doubts but to be quite frank, I have wanted Max for far longer than I want to admit. He was right there has been sexual tension between us for years but neither one of us trying to admit it.
When I get in front of his hotel room I hesitate before knocking knowing whatever happens tonight will change everything.
"On time, I'm fucking shocked," Max says when he opens the door to let me in.
"Max, what the hell are you on about?" I snap at him not even being able to last 30 seconds without us fighting.
"You're so infuriating. Walking around like you own the place and then come back to my room to get fucked properly" Max says casually making me stop in my tracks and stare at him.
"You're a fucking dick. And don't flatter yourself you have 5 minutes starting now," I say making Max instantly approach me and pull me in for one of the most intense and aggressive makeout sessions I have ever been a part of. I can feel the sparks flying almost instantly. Max picks me up and carries me into the other room where his bed is before he places me on the bed and starts pulling up my shirt making my breath hitch slightly.
When Max has my shirt off he instantly unclips my bra and flings it across the room before pushing me down softly to lie down.
As soon as my back hits the mattress I feel Max's hands making quick work at pulling my pants down leaving me completely bare in less than a minute.
"neuken," Max mumbles making me lift my head slightly. I've known Max long enough to have picked up on some of his Dutch.
"What," I snap worried that something was wrong.
"God the prettiest pussy," Max mumbles before diving right in and pulling my clit into his mouth and instantly sucking it making me arch my back and throw my head back.
"Fuck, Max," I whine when I feel his fingers teasing my entrance.
"How are you already this fucking soaked," Max groans into my pussy sending a new set of vibrations to my clit making me whine again.
"You, Max. It's always been you," I groan when I make eye contact with him. I can see the smirk written all over his face.
Max dives back making me whine. When two of his fingers slip into my tight pussy I instantly scream in pleasure feeling my orgasm approach far faster than I wanted.
"You're fucking close already," Max pulls away slightly to making sure to keep finger fucking me making me moan and nod my head.
"Yes, daddy," I moan without thinking making both Max and I stop almost instantly and stare at each other.
"Daddy?" Max questions with a smirk and before I can even say anything he's fucking me with his fingers far faster than he was previously.
"Max I'm gonna fucking cum," I moan out making Max pull his fingers out leaving me on the edge.
"What the fuck," I shout sitting up slightly so I can look Max in the eyes.
"Awe, you thought I'd let you cum that easy?" Max questions with a smirk making me wanna slap his.
"5 minutes are up. I'm leaving," I say while trying to get up but Max is instantly holding me down not letting me move.
"You said I had 5 minutes to bring you to the edge of cumming, I did," Max says with a smirk taking my words far to literal than I would have hoped.
"Max just make me fucking cum," I say getting frustrated, never being good at handling being edged even though it's one of my favorite things.
"No, not until I get my little nickname again," Max says with a smirk making me scoff and shake my head no.
"Well until then I'm gonna enjoy this pussy," Max says before putting his fingers back into my pussy making me gasp before he starts licking my clit bringing all the pleasure flooding back into my body making me moan.
"Fuck, Max so good," I whine. I knew my orgasm was approaching but instead of announcing it, I tried to hide it.
"Always such a fucking brat," Max says when he pulls his fingers out and moves his mouth from my pussy denying my orgasm again.
"Max," I say seriously.
"No, you know what you need to do, and don't be a fucking brat and try to hide it. I know this body far more than you think," Max says sternly before sending a harsh slap on my pussy making me jump slightly.
Max doesn't waste much time to start playing with my pussy again and it doesn't take me long for my orgasm to slowly start approaching again.
"Fuck," I moan feeling myself crawling to the edging and needing to cum.
"Be a good girl, and you'll get what you want," Max says making me whine.
"Please Daddy, let me cum," I finally break down and beg how Max wanted. This had Max speeding up his actions and throwing me over the edge within moments.
"Fuck, Daddy," I scream when he keeps fucking me even after helping me ride through my orgasm.
"God, you scream too good," Max says finally pulling away after torturing me with overstimulation for a few moments.
When I catch my breath I sit up softly getting out of bed before standing in front of Max pulling him in for another kiss and starting to work on undressing him.
When Max is finally undressed I pushed him to sit on the edge of the bed before getting on my knees for him.
"Such a good whore" Max mumbles when he sees me on my knees getting ready to pull him into my mouth.
When I finally get ready to pull Max into my mouth I realize just how big he was. I hesitate slightly not knowing if I would be able to take him all the way into my mouth but decide there is only one way to find out.
When I pull his tip into my mouth I can taste the salty precum he was already leaking making me suck it up getting addicted on the taste.
When I start bobbing my head I realize Max would still have another inch or so left that I wouldn't be able to take into my mouth so I bring one of my hands to jerk off the rest.
"Fuck, your mouth is finally useful," Max says making me groan around his cock and pinch his thigh with my free hand.
When I pull back from Max's cock I feel the my spit trailing from his cock to my lips making the scene all the more erotic.
I take a few deep breaths before getting back to work on Max's cock needed to make him cum.
I could tell Max was getting close faster than I thought he would which had me bobbing my head faster trying to take all of him into my mouth, before Max is pushing my head down making me gag while he starts cumming down my throat.
I can feel some of his cum leak out of my lips from how hard I was gagging around his cock but Max didn't seem to care too much as it make his hips buck trying to ride his orgasm out.
"Swallow every last bit. NOW!" Max demands when he pulls my head from his dick making me swallow instantly.
"You're a messy slut now," Max says with a smirk making me look over to the mirror that was in the room. When I see my face I have tears running down my cheeks, my freshly washed hair was all over the place, all the while my lips were swollen and pink and covered in my spit and Max's cum. He was right I was messy.
Max roughly wipes my lips rubbing my spit and his cum smearing it on my cheek before he is pulling me in for a heated makeout session again.
"I need to feel that pussy around my cock," Max mumbles against my lips making me whine. I nod my head letting him know I wanted it too.
"Fuck me please daddy," I beg.
This has Max hauling me off my knees before being roughly tossed onto the bed where Max is on me within seconds.
We spent several minutes making out and grinding on each other before Max was fully around again and I was soaked.
I feel Max's cock teasing my entrance making me arch my back in anticipation. When he slowly starts pushing in making me whine at the stretch.
"I love stretching this pussy out," Max groans once he was fully filling me up, giving me only a few moments to adjust before he starts slowly rocking his hips making me whine.
"So big," I gasp out when I feel him hit my cervix for the 3rd time in a row. The pain and burn of being stretched was starting to fade and all I could feel was the pure pleasure coursing through my body now.
"I'm not gonna last Daddy," I moan out warning him of the strong orgasm that was currently impending.
"God, I love when I fuck the attitude out of you. Your wrapped around my cock like a fucking slut being all sweet now. If I would have known this would work I would've fucked you years ago," Max groans through clenched teeth making his thrust even harder but keeping the same brutally fast pace.
"I'm gonna cum daddy," I announce just before exploding into my first squirting orgasm making my pleasure fly all over both Max and I. I can hear Max groan but I'm so lost in the pleasure I don't even feel him pull out and start unleashing his load of cum all over my stomach.
"Fuck," Max shouts which finally brings me back enough making me realize I was now covered in cum, but I was far too blissed out to care.
Max only took a couple of seconds before he got up and threw on a pair of boxers. I knew if I tried to stand right now my legs would give out on me but I didn't want to overstay my welcome so I slowly start pulling myself out of bed feeling Max's cum start sliding down my body making me cringe slightly at the thought of putting my clothes on top of it.
"What are you doing," Max says while holding a rag and watching me attempt to get up.
"I figured you wanted me to leave," I tell him softly while still pulling myself together before standing up. But before my feet can even touch the ground Max is on me.
"Lay down," Max says softly showing me a completely new side of him. He starts with wiping my face down making sure to clean all of the spit and cum off of it before wiping my tummy clean of his cum before throwing the rag somewhere in the room and crawling into bed next to me.
"I might be a dick, but I would not let you stumble back to your hotel room covered in my cum like that," Max tells me softly pulling me into his chest so I can rest my head on him.
"Where do we go from here," I ask softly.
"I think we should start with being nicer to each other and maybe admitting there's always been more," Max replies making me nod my head.
"I know we did it backward but I don't want to rush anything," I tell him softly. He just nodded in agreement before pulling me in a little tighter.
" We don't rush anything but I want to be exclusive," Max says firmly.
"I can do that," I reply making him not his head.
"Fly home with me tomorrow," Max says randomly making me laugh a little.
"What happened to not rushing," I joke but nod my head in agreement knowing I definitely do want to fly with him. Even if it means exposing ourselves to a few of his grid friends.
It didn't take long for sleep to take over my body and right before I was fully asleep I felt Max place a soft kiss on the top of my head mumbling a soft I love you.
Cauliflower Crust poly fic please! Max Verstappen for Artichokes, Lewis Hamilton for Gorgonzola cheese with Alfredo Sauce and Mt. Dew (dom!reader) No dessert
Lee-Lee's Pizzeria Menu
cauliflower crust sunshine x grumpy Alfredo sauce sweet sex artichokes "Imagine your father saw you now. On your knees like a proper trained slut for me to use" gorgonzola "Are you always this fucking loud?" mt dew dom/sub dessert no served by Max Verstappen and Lewis Hamilton
Max Verstappen x Lewis Hamilton x Grumpy! reader
TW mean! reader, blow job, unprotected sex, cum swallowing, threesome
WC
Y/N POV
"Both of you shut up please," I finally groan out after having listened to Lewis and Max bicker about who had a worse day during the race the entire flight. We still had another hour before we would get home and I was over both of them
"Quite frankly, you guys both fucking sucked today. It was neither of your faults it was bad it just was how the day went," I tell them very much over the day.
I was never a sunshine and rainbows girl but after watching both of my boyfriends struggling I sure as hell had zero patience, not for either of them, and surely not to listen to them bicker the entire flight.
"All I'm saying is you didn't have to start from the pit lane," Lewis added completely disregarding what I had just told them.
"You didn't have to be overtaken by Lando who started from fucking p15," Max shoots back making me snap at both of them men.
"Enough! Both of you in the room now," I shout making both men stop bickering at each other and slowly look at me before both of them scramble to get up and rush their way into the small room we had for privacy on the jet.
While the room was small and didn't have a lot of room it was perfect for the three of us to escape into after a long day. Most of the time it was used for sleeping or cuddling with the rare times it is used for what I'm about to do.
When I follow them into the room shortly after I find both men sitting on the bed with their hands in their laps not speaking.
"Oh now you know how to be quiet," I say while rolling my eyes and stepping between Max's parted thighs.
"You are doing what you can with that fucking car, but please shut up about it for once," I say before placing a kiss on his forehead and moving towards Lewis and standing between his legs the same way.
"And you are a 7 time world champion, no one is going to remember where you finished in Baku 2024, so you need to let it go, pretend it never happened," I tell him placing a kiss on his cheek before stepping back and observing both of them.
"Strip and on your knees now," I finally say making both of the boys stand and start doing as they're ask.
I knew both of them where frustrated and I knew it wouldn't take long to make them putty in my hands.
When they were finally on their knees on the bed given we didnt have space on the floor I observe both of them as they nervously twitch around trying to get comfortable under my harsh gaze.
I step to Lewis first placing soft kisses around his chest before trailing my tongue down to his cock which is already hard as a rock just waiting for me to do something.
I take one good lick at Lewis's tip making me hiss in pleasure but it still wasn't enough for what he needed in the moment. Before stepping back and moving towards Max making Lewis whine at the loss of my attention.
"No please," Lewis begs making me roll my eyes and flick his hip softly to tell him to knock it off.
"See how needy he is," I saw staring directly as Max before pulling him in for a wet kiss. I pull back far faster than Max would have liked but he kept quiet not wanting to be on the receiving end of my verbal lashings right now.
I start trailing wet kisses down Max's neck and chest, setting my hands on his thighs softly before I take him halfway into my mouth and giving it a long suck.
"Oh fuck," Max groans not expecting to get so much stimulation so quickly.
I knew how my boys were. Lewis hated being teased, if it was up to him I would already have made him cum. But Max, he was sweet and wanted the build up, he wants it to be slow and for us to take our time.
"S'too much," Max mumbles trying to pull his hips back when I start bobbing my head a bit.
"You can handle it," I say sharply when I pull back. When I look up I find Max staring down with reddened cheeks and a gazed over look in his eyes letting me know just how much of a slut he was for this.
"Imagine your father saw you now. On your knees like a proper trained slut for me to use" I add sharply making Max whimper slightly. I knew it was harsh and maybe even uncalled for but it all the more spurred him on. I think the thought of people finding out that off the track he was a submissive slut for his shared girl friend turned him on.
I went right back in to taking Max down my throat before pushing him back so he can lay on the bed.
"You know what to do Lewis," I snap at Lewis making his scramble to get behind me and pull the sweat shorts I was wearing down taking my panties with them. With the angle I was in he wasn't able to pull them off completely so he just let them rest at my knees.
"You go slow," I tell Lewis knowing if I gave him free rein right now we would both be cumming before I can even finish sucking our boyfriend.
I hear Lewis groan at the command but he still listens because the next thing I know Lewis is slowly pushing in making me gasp softly.
Once Lewis was all the way in he gave me some time to adjust. While I was used to taking his cock he was still quite large stretching me out each time we fucked.
When Lewis started thrusting I gasp around Max's cock making me whine some more. Once we all get into a steady pace I can hear Lewis whining and moaning trying to keep the pace steady even though all he wants to do is speed up.
"Are you always this fucking loud?" I say while turning my head to look at Lewis so he knows I was talking to him. I watch as Lewis's hips buck erratically before getting back on pace.
"S'so good," Lewis mumbled making me smile a little before I turned back to Max and brought him into my mouth once again.
I could tell Max wasn't gonna last much longer so I pull away slightly before mumbling, "Speed up Lew."
That had Lewis instantly speeding up his pace making me gasp as the brutal attack but I can't deny it felt amazing.
"Close," Max mumbled making me speed up my actions letting him know it's okay to cum. It didn't take long for Max to unload his massive load down my throat making me swallow everything he gave me.
Max's orgasm triggered mine because while I'm making quick work of swallowing his cum my orgasm comes out of nowhere making me instantly start shaking all over Lewis's cock sending him over the edge and cumming in my pussy. I rocked my hips slightly making sure to ride Lewis and I's orgasm out before he is slowly pulling out and laying next to Max and I.
The three of us are completely blissed out and basking in our post-orgasm glow.
haii could i please order a pizza with sicillian crust with red sauce, and jalapenos, chicken, and tomatoes and my drinks are mtn dew(dom), beer and diet coke. Served by Max Verstappen please!!
Lee-Lee's Pizzeria Menu
sicillian crust dating red sauce rough sex jalapenos "always such a fucking brat" chicken "awe you thought I'd let you cum that easy?" tomatoes "do you enjoy pissing me off?" mt dew dom (reader) beer edging diet cock recording kink served by Max Verstappen
Max Verstappen x Dom reader
AN: I am so pleased with how busy the Pizzeria has been! I work at night today so I'm gonna get a couple fics more pizzas done before I have to go in.
TW - edging, sub max, dom reader, begging, unprotected sex, filming, taunting
WC 2100+
Y/N POV
I've been watching Max from the other side of the bar for the past 15 minutes while he talks to Checo about something having forgotten about the drink he was supposed to be getting me.
Another 5 minutes pass before Max is finally waving the bartender down to orders drinks and another 3 minutes before I watch Max approaching with his puppy smile trying to sweeten me up once he saw the cold stare I was giving him.
"Max it's been almost half an hour since you told me 'I'll be right back just gonna get your drink' right back my ass" I saw while rolling my eyes and talking the drink he was offering me.
"M'sorry, Checo was talking about the car," Max tells me sheepishly. I could tell he was sorry so I decided to brush it off and pull him to my side before placing a soft kiss on his cheek.
"It's fine, just stay on task next time," I tell him softly whispering into his ear.
I don't know how or when it happened but there had been a shift in max and I's relationship. At one point in time, Max was a young curious boy doing any and everything he could to dominate me and 'keep me in check' but as the years progressed there was a switch and he was no longer the one wearing the pants in the relationship. Most people just assumed Max was whipped but the very few who actually knew about the dynamic just understood it. To them it all made sense, on track, Max was a dominant force that instilled fear in his fellow drivers but off the track, he just needed an outlet to be taken care of.
"I promise," Max whispers before placing a kiss on my lips.
"Love you," he says when he pulls back. "Love you too"
As the night progressed Max had done really well about doing what he's asked but then Lando showed up and I knew instantly I was gonna lose him in the crowd.
I trust Max and I have no issues with him going off but being left at a table by myself surrounded by people I had never met was making me grow more anxious than I would like to admit.
It was about an hour later when I finally saw Max approaching the table with a dopey smile across his face letting me know he had definitely had another drink or two.
"Hi baby," Max says while plopping down right next to me not picking up on the annoyance radiating off of me.
"Do you enjoy pissing me off?" I ask back watching as the smile on Max's face instantly falls.
"Wha- huh? Wait, what did I do?" Max stutters, struggling to try and figure out what to say.
"You just disappeared for over an hour. You left me alone at this dan table and you didn't even tell me where the fuck you went or ask if I wanted to join," I tell him back piching his thigh slightly under the table.
"M'sorry. I promise I've been trying to be good. Don't wanna make you mad, schat" Max mumbles clearly feeling the shame of the verbal lashing he was gonna get later when we got back to the apartment.
"You're gonna be in tears tonight," I reply back straight faced not cracking a normal smile.
"Please just one more chance," Max begs knowing I meant every word.
"I gave you a chance with Checo. I don't understand how you hanging out with Lando somehow always results in you getting punished. Maybe we should send him a video of you tonight to let me know he's a terrible influence," I tell him while looking into his eyes before placing a soft kiss on his cheek to throw him off.
"You wouldn't" Max says with wide eyes of the threat of sending a sex tape. I just shrug my shoulders playing along with the bit.
"I don't know, I think he would love to know that the man he's fighting to get the World Driver Championship is just a needy whiney little bitch," I reply back making Max whine.
"You're a meanie," Max mumbles.
"And you're a brat. Don't we make a perfect pair," I saw with a smile on my face.
When we finally get back to the apartment for the night Max was pretty much sober knowing I would wait until morning if he wasn't sober. He chose take his punishment now versus the morning when he would be nursing a hangover.
"Go into our room, make sure the cats are out of the room, then strip down and be laying on you back in the bed. I'll be there in 5 minutes," I say the second the door is closed.
Max makes quick work of disappearing into our room where I assume he listened to every word I said.
In the 5 minutes, I stripped down into the lingerie set I had chosen to wear under my outfit before making my way down the hallway where I find Sassy sitting by the door staring up at me curiously. I give her a quick pet before slipping into the room to find Max exactly how I told him to be. I look around the room and found a neatly stack of clothes letting me know that Max had folded them up instead of throwing them arounf our room.
"I see you remember some of our rules," I saw while staring at the clothes so Max understood what I was referencing.
When I start climbing into the bed with Max I can see him tensing slightly in anticipation.
"You know how embarrassing it was tonight?" I said before spitting onto Max's cock and starting to jerk him off making him instantly grow hard under my hand.
"I was sat there all alone for over an hour. I looked dumb as fuck. I'm sure the Monaco gossip is gonna eat that up "Max Verstappen disappears leaving his long-time girlfriend alone at the table' You know how media is, they're gonna make it seem like there's trouble in paradise. When in reality it's just little Maxie being a brat. Oh! I almost forgot," I stop my teasing to grab my phone which I brought with me into the room.
"Say hi to Lando," I say while pointing the camera at Max's face. He's giving the camera such a pained yet slutty look it makes me laugh at his desperation. I wait a couple seconds before my voice booms through the room, "I said, Say hi to Lando." While verbally reprimanding Max I send a quick slap to his inner thigh close to his dick before pinching the same spot making Max squirm a bit.
"Hi, Lando," Max mumbles barely audible.
"Try that again. I hear the way you yell at your engineer. Such a disrespectful boy," I tell him with a raised brow.
"Hi, Lando" Max finally says in a loud enough voice to be heard.
"Good boy," I tell him while moving my unoccupied hand back to his dick making sure I have the perfect angle to get Max and his already wet with precum ccok.
"So needy. You're already dripping for me," I say with a smirk on my face.
"So good, schat" Max whines making me speed up slightly just to watch Max's breath hitch.
"I love it when you get like that," I mumble while squeezing Max's cock a bit harder.
"M'close," Max mumbled making me speed up just slightly before pulling my hand away and watching Max's eyes roll into the back of his head and tremble slightly from his pleasure being ripped away in a matter of seconds.
"No," Max whines dragging out the O sounding so desperate.
"Awe you thought I'd let you cum that easy?" I tease while starting to jerk Max off again while zooming the camera in on Max's cock dripping with precum.
"Schat, please," Max says already starting to beg.
"Oh come on, you can handle more than one," I tell him while leaning down and kicking softly at his tip collecting a bit of his precum.
I shuffle down the bed slightly to start pulling Max into my mouth and down my throat taking all of Max's length into my mouth making sure to bob my head slightly before bringing Max to the edge all over again.
I could tell when he was getting close again because his thighs started tensing under my hands making me rip away from Max's cock to watch him thrash around while bucking his hips to try and gain some kind of friction.
"Fuck no," Max whines staring straight at that the camera that I angled perfectly on his face.
"I love watching you get progressively more needy," I say with a smirk while gripping onto his cock and giving it a rough couple jerks before pulling Max into my mouth again.
I didn't give Max much time to calm down so he was on the edge rather quickly.
"Please, I'm gonna cum," Max says making me bod my head a bit faster before pulling away and watching Max try and chase his orgasm on his own by moving his hand to go and finish himself off but I quickly get a grip on his wrist and giving Max a look that says knock it off.
"No more," Max whines making me smirk slightly.
"Can you give me one more?" I question with a raised brow making Max whine but slowly start to nod his head.
"Yes, I can give one more," Max mumbles softly making me smile softly.
I started jerking off his cock softly making sure I'm filming everything again. I loved it when Max got like. The noises, his hips bucking, and the pure desperation in his eyes always seemed to turn me on.
I could tell Max was getting close but I wanted to push him farther than previous so I continue my movements till the second I know Max will cum I rip my hand away and watch as Max lets out a roar of desperation while jerking his body around not being able to gain any friction as I moved away slightly.
"Please, I need it. I can't do it anymore. I need to cum baby, please," Max begs making me smile softly.
"I'm gonna let you cum in a minute," I tell Max softly while rubbing his thigh in a soothing manner making Max whimper at the touch.
I turned the video off and tossed my phone away from us. I was still sitting in my lingerie set which is completely soaked through both from just witnessing Max get to the point of begging and also because I had snuck a couple fingers into my folds and teased my clit while giving Max head.
I stand from the bed softly and strip down completely before climbing back into the bed and climbing on top of Max before instantly sinking all the way down on Max.
"Oh fuck," I moan when I feel Max stretch my tight walls. I knew neither of us would last very long but looking at Max's face he was completely blissed out.
"So good," Max mumbled making his accent come out a bit thicker.
"So big baby," I moan while softly grinding my hips to gain some friction but not enough stimulation to bring Max or I to an orgasm.
"More, please" Max begs and I give him exactly what he wants because I start bouncing my hips slightly making both Max and I moan at the pleasure coursing through our bodies.
It doesn't take me long for the knot in my stomach to grow alerting me of the incoming orgasm. I look at Max's face and can tell he's trying to hold his orgasm off until I was cumming.
"Cum for me baby," I whisper out bouncing harder on Max's cock throwing me off the edge and into a violent orgasm.
The way Max's hips were erratically thrusting and the feeling of him filling me up sent me over the edge into a shaking orgasm. I'm shaking on Max's cock trying to ride both of our orgasms out.
"So good baby," I whine softly still feeling the aftershocks of the intense orgasm I just had.
"Thank you," Max says softly through staggered breath still trying to catch his breath again.
"You did good for me," I tell Max softly while pulling off his cock and laying down on his chest.
"You're not gonna send that to Lando right," Max mumbles softly making me chuckle a little and shake my head no.
"You know I would never, but I did love watching you get desperate on camera. Might start having to do that more often," I tell him softly looking up to watch his face. I could see the conflict in his eyes but he still nodded his head letting me know it was something he would be willing to do again.
She's Pregnant?! Max Verstappen SMAU
Max Verstappen x Plus size Pregnant! reader
A/N I did my best with keeping the reader plus size! It is hard to find representation of plus size pregnancy which I think is ridiculous but I did my best!
warnings some fatphobia comments toward pregnant reader
YourUserName
Liked by Maxverstappen1, landonorris and 2,005,984 others
YourUserName Jimmy still isn't used to the bump yet. I can't wait to see him become a big brother!
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Maxverstappen1
Liked by yourusername, redbullracing and 4,874,093 others
Maxverstappen1 I can't wait to meet my little girl
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Messages between Max and Y/N
Instagram stories
yourusername
3 Months Later
Messages from Charles and Lando to Max
Liked by redbullracing, maxverstappen1, and 2,893,892 others
Yourusername
Anneliese Emilia Verstappen is here and healthy!
maxverstappen I'm so proud of you gorgeous girl! Thank you for making me the luckiest man and father in the world
landonorris I guess this is a good reason to miss a race weekend! I can't wait to meet her she's absolutely gorgeous... no thanks to Max
charlesleclerc She's beautiful and I can't wait to meet her
redbullracing congratulations! She's absolutely gorgeous and definitely worth missing a race
Comments have been limited to close friends
Maxverstappen1
Liked by yourusername, landonorris and 4,892,012 others
maxverstappen1 One of the most beautiful moments in my life was watching my amazing woman birth our beautiful daughter.
I love you Y/N and I love you Anneliese
redbullracing Congrats! Happy for you and Y/N and your beautiful daughter
landonorris Congrats mate
charlesleclerc congrats on the beautiful daughter
sergioperez Congratulations! I can't wait to meet the new paddock Princessa
carlossainz Congrats
danielriccardo Congrats! Can't wait to see her around the paddock!
lancestroll congrats! Sending my well wishes to Y/N
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Redbullracing
Liked by yourusername, maxverstappen1, and 3.298,038 others
redbullracing Max Verstappen and Y/N L/N (not pictured) have introduced Anneliese to the Paddock for Max's home race here in the Netherlands for the Dutch Grand Prix
tagged yourusername and maxverstappen1
user1 I'm so excited to see Y/N back in the paddock! I know she's been missing it
user2 I can't believe Y/N is already bringing a NEWBORN into the paddock where there is so many people and germs
-> maxverstappen1 We can never make you guys happy. If she didn't come she'd get crap for it! If she left the baby with a family member she'd be a "terrible" mom and clearly if she comes it's a problem!
user3 Yk it's cute seeing Max standing up for his girlfriend and the mother of his daughter
user4 I can't believe Max is a dad!
maxverstappen Thank you for allowing us to have a L/N x Verstappen paddock take over!
yourusername Thank you for welcoming Anneliese in with open arms!
user5 I just know Y/N is having the most amazing post-pregnancy glow right now
yourusername
Liked by sergioperez, maxverstappen1 and 3,692,042 others
yourusername becoming a mother was one of my biggest dreams growing up and to finally have my daughter, my mini me has been some of the best times in my life! Say what you want about me and Max but keep my daughter's name out of your mouth!
Being back at the paddock is like a second home! I have missed it greatly and hope to be back full time by the end of the season.
Anneliese says "Thank you papa for putting on a good show for my first race!"
tagged maxverstappen1
user1 I am so happy for you and Max! Good to see you back at the paddock
landonorris I can't believe my goddaughter is a redhead! She's absolutely beautiful! Thank you for allowing me to hold her and show her around the paddock
-> user2 LANDO IS THE GODFATHER?!
--> charlesleclerc NO! I'm the God father
---> Maxverstappen Literally neither of you guys are the godfather... we havent even picked on yet
Maxverstappen I love you always! Thank you so much for making me a father to the most beautiful humans I have ever seen
charlesleclerc Thank God Anneliese got your looks cause she's absolutely beautiful... literally no thanks to Max
redbullracing We have missed you so much at the garage! So happy to see you back
user3 I just love seeing everyone love and support max and y/n
user4 I was once a great hater of y/n but as time has passed she really has grown on me. She seems to be genuinely sweet.
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maxverstappen1
