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littlegrapejuice · 10 days ago

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Grid Mum 6 | MV1

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: The European triple header - or: a poor attempt at flirting, a jealous boyfriend, mother's day, a Cars screening at home, and some cuddles.

Author's Note: obvious enough from the summary, but here is the imola/monaco/barcelona chap! I really enjoyed writing this one so i hope you'll enjoy reading it🫶🏻

F1 MASTERLIST🏎 | Previous Part | Next Part

Franco had been given one rule when he had hung out with the other rookies ahead of the Imola Grand Prix.

“Please, don’t flirt with Max’s girlfriend.” Ollie’s tone was stern, indicating that it was a serious matter.

“Why?” Franco hadn’t met you when he had replaced Logan last year, and he wasn’t even sure of what you looked like. So why were you important now?

“Because she’s nice to us,” Kimi explained.

“Literally the nicest”, Liam added with a nod.

“Yeah, and she takes care of us during race weekends. Even Max hangs out with us, and it’s so fun to spend time with them. So if you flirt with her, then Max will be mad. And we don’t want to be blamed for your fuck-up because we’re all part of the same group,” Gabriel concluded.

“Wow… okay, mate. I won’t do anything so we’re good, don’t worry. I’ll behave”, Franco assured.

After this conversation, the rest of the rookies really thought that Franco had gotten the message.

One rule. Just one tiny little rule.

And Franco broke it on Friday, barely a day later.

In his defence, it wasn’t his fault. Why? Because no one had actually shown him a picture of you, and Franco hadn’t thought of looking you up. So he still didn’t know that it was you he was talking to when he walked up to you with a charming smile on his face.

“Hey,” he simply said. “Red Bull fan?” He pointed to his head in reference to the cap you were wearing.

This was courtesy of Max, who hadn’t wanted you to wear a Mercedes one. Kimi had offered you one of the signed caps that had been amongst those he had given to his classmates, hoping that you would support him at his home race. With a scoff, Max had quickly removed the cap from your head when you had come back to his garage and he had then exchanged it for the one he had been wearing.

“Yeah”, you confirmed with a nod as you readjusted your cap. You were about to introduce yourself to Franco due you two having never met, but you didn’t have time.

“Any chance I could turn you into an Alpine fan?” Franco raised an eyebrow at you, his tone teasing. “I could even give you a tour of my garage if you want.”

It took you a few seconds to process Franco’s words, as well as his attitude, before you realised that he was trying to flirt with you. You kind of wanted to laugh, finding the situation quite funny. You hadn’t imagined that Franco out of all people would try and flirt with you, but then you realised he might actually be completely clueless about who you were.

“Oh, that’s sweet of you but I already know what an F1 garage looks like.” You gave him your best friendly-but-rejecting smile, and hoped he would get the message. “I practically live in them at this point.”

“Even if I’d be your personal tour guide?”

“This isn’t a really convincing argument”, you told him. “Jack put the bar high enough, if I’m being honest.”

“Shit, you’re friends with Jack?” Franco was now unsure on how to keep the conversation going, thinking that you would be one of those blaming him for what happened to the Aussie driver.

“I’d say more than friends, but yeah that tracks.” Sensing Franco’s nervousness, you tried to reassure him. “I’m not mad at you by the way. If anything, it’s Alpine that I want to burn to the ground.”

“Cool… yeah, that’s cool… So he wouldn’t be mad if I tried to ask his friend out?”

“Jack probably won’t be, but my boyfriend might not like that.” The innocent smile on your face felt more like a warning than anything else, due to the sharper tone in your voice.

“My bad, I didn’t know. Sorry about that, then.” Franco was being genuine. He was a charmer through and through, but he wasn’t about to keep trying to pursue you now that he knew you were taken. “He’s a lucky guy, that’s for sure.”

“Who’s a lucky guy?”

Turning to where the voice had come, Franco and you saw that Max had come to stand beside you.

“Her boyfriend”, Franco honestly explained. “It seems like I was unfortunately–” His voice kind of died down when he noticed that Max’s arm had made its way around your waist. Clearing his throat, Franco was now more nervous than ever. “I was unfortunately flirting with a woman who’s got a boyfriend, which is you I guess…”

“You’re guessing well”, Max confirmed as his grip on your waist slightly tightened. “No need to introduce you to my girlfriend anymore, then?”

“Nope, all good. I– I need to go to my garage so… see you later, yeah.” And with that, Franco awkwardly left the conversation. He knew he had fucked up the only thing that his fellow rookies had asked of him, and he really hoped they wouldn’t hear about it.

“More like ‘see you never’”, Max mumbled under his breath once Franco was out of earshot.

“You scared the poor guy, Max.”

“Shouldn’t have flirted with my girl,” Max replied as if it was obvious.

“He didn’t even know who I was!” You tried to advocate for Franco, but in vain.

“Well, now he knows!” Max argued.

You let out a sigh at Max’s jealous attitude, although there was a smile on your face showing that you had a hard time actually being annoyed by your boyfriend.

“Go drive your little car and stop terrorising kids, Max.”

“He will not become our kid, by the way. He’ll stay a regular kid, we already have enough.”

“Just because of him flirting?”

“Trying to flirt,” Max clarified. “Clearly, he was never succeeding.”

“You’re being so mean, he was actually sweet and respectful.”

“He can be sweet and respectful, but far from you. Like… the opposite side of the paddock from where you are.”

“You’re pushing it.” But despite your complaints, you had to admit that jealous and possessive Max was cute. He was never this dramatic when you interacted with other men, so this was actually kind of funny to witness. “I’ll stay very very far away from him if you want, is that alright?” You wouldn’t actually go out of your way to avoid Franco, but what Max didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

“Yeah, perfect.” Max had a proud grin on his face. “I’ll see you after FP1?”

“Might have lunch with the rookies while we watch the F3 and F2 qualis”, you notified Max. “I’ll keep you updated.”

“No problem, sounds good.” He then kissed you goodbye, before making his way to his garage while you made yours to hospitality.

…..

Following FP1, you met with Gabriel. He had crashed at the end of the session, bringing out a red flag, but was thankfully alright.

“You were doing great out there”, you told the rookie. “P9 in FP1 is promising.”

“It’s practice,” Gabriel pointed out. “Only the first of the weekend so…”

“But that means you’re starting the weekend well!” You wanted to encourage him, genuinely believing that he was improving with every grand prix. “I’m sure you’ll keep this up.”

“Thanks for the support. But now I’m starving, so please let’s get something to eat.”

“Lead the way.”

While you and Gabriel were eating, you watched the F3 qualifying session and discussed upcoming talents. Gabriel teased you about soon becoming the grid mum of every young driver, due to you already noticing them from the lower categories.

When the session was over, there was a small break before the F2 qualifying would start so you and Gabriel just stayed together. It was only the two of you for another half hour, until Gabriel noticed a fellow rookie walking by and called out for him.

“Franco, mate!” Gabriel waved at the Argentinian, hoping to introduce the two of you.

“Hey.” Franco hesitantly approached, giving you a small nod as a sign of greeting.

“This is Max’s girlfriend,” Gabriel said. He held Franco’s gaze for a bit, as a warning for him to remember what the rookies had told him the day before.

“Oh, we actually met earlier!” Unaware of what you would be causing, you thought it would be fine to share the information. “I got offered a private tour of Alpine, can you believe how lucky I am?” Chuckling at the memory, you had no idea that Franco was now wanting to escape the conversation due to Gabriel threateningly looking at him.

“That’s so nice of Franco, yeah”. Gabriel’s tone was far from nice, his eyes now throwing daggers at his fellow rookie. “I hope he didn’t bother you, did he?” Gabriel needed to make sure that what he was thinking – Franco having broken the only rule he had been given – was unfortunately true.

“No worries about him,” you reassured him. “Max actually used the ‘scary boyfriend’ persona on him – sorry about that, Franco.”

“Oh… hmm, it’s fine. No worries,” he told you with a nervous smile. “I think I’ll let you two enjoy your time together. I gotta meet with my team to discuss… stuff, yeah… just stuff.”

“Sure, okay! We’ll probably see each other later in the triple header anyways.”

“Yeah, the triple header. That’s great, super great.” Franco waved as he slowly began to walk away from you and Gabriel, now knowing that he wouldn’t hear the end of it once all the rookies would be aware of the situation from earlier.

“See you later, Franco. Enjoy the weekend, while you can.” Gabriel had an innocent smile on his face, but his eyes were definitely not matching it. He was ready to share the story to his friends as soon as he would have the opportunity, ready to gang up on Franco for his mistake.

Completely oblivious to the tension between the two drivers, you then brought back the topic that you and Gabriel were talking about before Franco had been there. Until it was time for FP2, you stayed with Gabriel as you watched the F2 qualifying session together. You wished the rookie luck, hoping that Italy would be good to him.

And despite only getting P16 in the other two practice sessions, it seems like you had been right to encourage Gabriel as he managed to reach his first Q2 of the season on Saturday – which was unfortunately at the expense of Ollie not getting further than P19, due to a red flag caused as the Brit was crossing the line.

Thankfully, there was no bad blood between the two of them and they honestly both knew that neither of them would be fighting for points on the next day.

You would still be rooting for them to have a nice and safe race, but your focus would mainly be on Max. He would start P2, next to Oscar’s McLaren on the front row, and you were certain that he was ready to do anything in order to secure a fourth win in a row here.

…..

You could only stop breathing as you watched the drivers reaching the first corner. Oscar was forced to brake early in order to keep George behind him, which gave Max the opportunity to overtake him. It was a clean and precise move, which made you sigh of relief when your boyfriend had successfully taken the lead of the race.

And that was all he had needed to do in order to claim a win here in Imola, for Red Bull’s four hundredth grand prix.

Max found you as soon as he got out of the car and removed his helmet, running to where you were standing with his team in parc fermé. As usual, he hugged you first. You couldn’t quite catch what he was saying due to the cheers around you, but you managed to understand a few words:

“This one’s for my girlfriend”, he bragged before hugging you tighter.

You could literally hear his smirk, which you then felt when he kissed you.

“Congrats, champ. That was beautiful”, you told him before he removed his arms from around you to go interact with his team.

You watch him hug his team principal, his engineers, his mechanics. They were responsible for most of it, but Max was the real star today. A star that you could only admire as your eyes never left him, even when he gave his interview as one of the top three finishers.

Max then disappeared for the cooldown room, before your eyes found him again when he went to stand on the podium. Victory always looked good on him, especially when he was so deserving of it.

It was in those moments that the world had to remember that Max Verstappen was a four-times world champion. Maybe the two McLaren drivers next to him on the podium were leading both drivers’ and constructors' championships, but Max wasn’t far behind and he was definitely not going out without a fight for a fifth consecutive title.

_________________________________________________

Although Monaco wasn’t your favourite race of the year, you loved being able to spend a week at home. And you knew Max was glad for that too. You didn’t have to come back to a hotel room every night, and you could wake up with the familiarity of your routine.

Except that there was a new variable in your routine this year, thanks to some rookies whom you had adopted along the way.

When you arrived at the paddock on race day, you hadn’t been surprised to see your six grid kids waiting near the entrance. They seemed to be discussing something important, hushed voices overlapping each other.

Ollie was the first one to notice you, and he nudged the other rookies to notify them of your approaching. And that was when you thought things were a bit weird.

“Hi boys, everything alright?”

They all seemed to suddenly be nervous at your presence, straightening up and looking at each other with unsure glances. You noticed that a couple of them were hiding something, which you would very soon discover what it was.

“It’s… hmm, not much… but…” Kimi had decided to be the spokesperson of the group, but he had somehow forgotten his lines. He thought about winging it, and went straight to the point. “Happy Mother's day!”

And that was the cue for Isack to reveal a beautiful bouquet filled with your favourite flowers – they had to thank Max for the information – while Jack was holding a box of chocolates with a card on top of it in your direction.

“Oh!” Was the only word you could manage to get out before you choked up. You wanted to cry. You wanted to sob here and there – not caring about the people that might be watching. The gesture was so pure and kind, you didn’t feel like you deserved it. And with the way that their smiles brightened in anticipation of your reaction, showing how proud they were of themselves for doing that? Yeah, you were done for. “I– sorry, I’m just emotional…”

Noticing that some tears were rolling down your cheeks, the rookies were suddenly panicking and they thought you didn’t like their surprise.

“Sorry, was it wrong to do that?” Liam asked, worry evident in his voice.

“It was supposed to make you happy,” Gabriel stated.

“Yeah! Not sad,” Ollie added.

“We didn’t want to make you uncomfortable”, Kimi said.

Seeing how their mood shifted was enough to make you now properly react to their change in attitude, especially when you saw that their smiles were starting to drop.

“Oh my God, no! Please don’t apologise!” You got closer to them, hoping to be able to show them your gratitude by taking their gifts into your hands. “This is just… like super really nice of you. And I wasn’t expecting that at all, so it took me by surprise. But that is truly so sweet of you. Thank you all so much for this, I don’t deserve it.”

“Of course you do!” Isack claimed.

“Yeah!” The other rookies agreed with a nod.

Chuckling at their enthusiasm, you now wanted to hug them to thank them for the gifts. You barely had time to put down the bouquet and chocolates before the rookies were the ones engulfing you in a hug first. It was certainly not practical to hug six people at the same time, but you tried to make it work until you decided to hug them all individually.

“Are you still crying? Jack wondered, when he heard you sniff in his arms.

“It’s happy tears, shut up. I’m blaming you for that,” you told him before tightening your grip around him.

It meant a lot to you that Jack had been involved with this. Despite him not really being part of the current rookies on the grid, he was still one when Max and you had adopted the group. So it had made sense for the other drivers to include him – they didn’t even think about not including him, it was just obvious to do so.

One by one, you hugged the six of them with a smile so wide that your cheeks were starting to hurt. You thanked them once again, telling them how grateful you were to have them.

“We’re the lucky ones there”, Ollie said. “We don’t care that you’re not like our real mum or shit like that.”

“We did honour our mums, by the way. We’re not bad sons”, Liam assured.

“True. But yeah, we needed to thank you for being there for us during race weekends. Because even if our parents are also there most of the time, it’s super cool to hang out with you because you’re real fun to be around. You’re more than a grid mum,” Isack affirmed. “You’ve become a friend as well.”

“Okay, shit. You’re gonna make me cry again and I don’t have any spare makeup with me”, you joked as you tried to keep your tears in.

They laughed with you as you kept thanking them – it seemed like the only thing you could do. In this moment, you really felt loved and cherished. You wouldn’t trade those kids for anything else in the world; and if someone were to ask them, they would definitely say the same.

…..

You hadn’t expected a journalist to approach you after the race, given that you were usually invisible in the paddock. Not that you were fully transparent either, but you were never the WAG that people focused on.

“Isn’t it weird that you’re getting so much attention from the rookies? Especially on a day like today.”

You had certainly not expected that question, and were definitely confused regarding the point the journalist was trying to make. The man had not even said ‘hello’ nor introduced himself, and that was probably all you needed to know about him to assess his personality.

“Sorry, I didn’t quite catch the full question. Could you repeat it, please?” You did your best to stay polite, even though you could already feel like the man was about to deal with something that you wouldn’t like.

“Well, we’ve seen you interact a lot with the rookies in the past few weeks – which most people could overlook. However, today is Mother’s Day and it seems like they have been acting as if you were deserving of as much attention as their real mothers earlier today. Anything to say about wanting to replace them?”

To say you were surprised by the man’s claim would be an understatement. Was he accusing you of stealing the rookies from their mothers? When have you ever tried to do that?

“I’m not sure where you found that information.” You tried to be diplomatic, not wanting to cause a scene, and plastered your face with your best fake smile. “I can assure you that I have done nothing to ever make it seem like I wanted to replace – as you’ve said – the kids’ mothers. And–”

“But you have been strangely close to them, right?” He interrupted you. He then did not even leave you time to answer before he kept going with his more-than-false ‘facts’. “Some people even claim that you have invited them to your home, can you confirm or deny? Are you doing all of this because Max does not want to have an actual family with you? Is there any trouble between the two of you?”

Now overwhelmed, you were having a really hard time listening to everything the journalist was saying. People hadn’t seemed to care about the exchange – probably due to the fact that the man wasn’t a well-known reporter and you were just a WAG. Still, the pressure you were currently feeling from his accusations was making you more nervous than ever and you were afraid that you would soon need to excuse yourself – which might make things worse if the man thought you were escaping because his assumptions were right.

Thankfully, someone decided to come save you.

“Is everything okay here?” Liam asked, his tone suspicious, as he came to stand beside you. He had heard the last couple of questions that the man asked you, and he immediately knew to intervene.

“Yeah, we’re fine. She’s just refusing to answer my questions,” the journalist explained. “Is she always this rude?”

“Well, maybe she’s not answering because you’re just spitting bullshit and assuming wrong stuff about her.” Liam shifted closer to you and glared at the man in front of him. “I don’t know who made up all this, but they’re dumb as hell. And if it’s you, then it’s no surprise I’ve never seen you before because your work is probably too mediocre to be read by actual drivers.”

“I will not allow you to speak to me like that!” The journalist was now fuming, overlooking the fact that he was talking to F1 driver Liam Lawson and focusing on how a ‘kid’ was insulting his work.

“Or what?” Liam snickered at the man’s anger.

“I’ll write about you, and I’ll have lots of things to say about how rude you both are to journalists who just wanna do their job. It’s no wonder Red Bull sacked you with an attitude like that,” he said with venom in his voice.

“How the hell are you talking to them?” Ollie, having heard the journalist’ voice get louder from afar, had come to see what the commotion was about. He hadn’t expected to see you and Liam, now wondering what was happening. The only thing he was sure of for now, was that the journalist had no right to yell at you nor Liam.

Now that two drivers were around you, people were starting to notice the little gathering and some of them stopped for a second to see what was going on.

“I talk to them however I want. I am appalled at how rude the youth is nowadays! I am simply trying to write my article, but everyone is really disrespectful around here.”

“If you weren’t the one asking dumb shit to her, then I would be way nicer to you.” Liam crossed his arms, fed up with the man’s attitude.

“My questions are far from dumb! You cannot tell me that it’s not bizarre and creepy from her to spend so much time around the younger drivers. I’m just wanting to know the truth here”, the man claimed.

“Listen, man.” Gabriel was the third driver to join the conversation, and he was definitely not glad with what he had heard so far. The noise had caught his attention, and he hadn’t hesitated in getting closer as the journalist kept getting angrier. “I don’t know who the fuck you think you are – and I probably don’t care – but you’re gonna have to tone it down, please. This is a public space, and your very loud irritating voice is bothering the people who actually work here.”

“And if you wanna talk about us hanging out with her, then I’ll give you something to write about.” Ollie, without a care in the world, took the journalist’s notebook and pen before he scribbled down some words. “Reason number one: she’s genuine, kind, and polite – definitely the opposite from you. Reason number two: we share the same passion that’s racing – and maybe you would be a better person if you had it too. Reason number three–”

“That’s enough!” The journalist interrupted as he violently grabbed his notebook back from Ollie’s hands. “I will not let myself be ridiculed by arrogant drivers like you for one more second.” And with that, he angrily stormed away from the conversation.

What you felt was an awkward silence settled between the drivers and you, as you were now embarrassed to have indirectly dragged them in this situation. However, it seemed like they didn’t care about it and were more worried about your well-being.

“Are you alright?” Ollie eventually asked, a soothing hand rubbing your shoulder.

“Did he do anything else to you before I arrived?” Liam wondered, not having been there from the beginning.

“I’m fine, guys. Don’t worry about me,” you reassured them. “Thank you for coming to my rescue, he was…”

“Being a bitch?” Gabriel suggested.

“An absolute arsehole?” Ollie added.

“Fucking pathetic that’s for sure,” Liam stated.

“I wanted to say a bit rude, but yeah those work as well.” You chuckled a bit at your own downplay of the situation. “He was kinda right, though… I don’t know, am I spending too much time with my boyfriend’s colleagues?”

“Please don’t think that man was right.”

“Yeah, Gabi’s right. And we’re not just your boyfriend’s colleagues,” Ollie claimed. “We’re literally your kids, thought we established that this morning”

“Grid mum? Grid kids?” Liam reminded you with a smile. “Ringing a bell?”

You nodded, grateful for the reassurance the rookies were providing you. You thought that you truly didn’t deserve them, and that maybe they were the ones actually taking more care of you than you did of them. But it felt normal to them: you were usually the one mothering. And if for once they could help you by being your knights in shining armour, then they were glad to do so.

Still, it would later seem that they wouldn’t stop needing to count on you when it mattered. And you knew as much as they did that you wouldn’t say no to them, no matter the situation.

…..

Are you asleep?

The text had come from Isack. Looking at the time, you noticed that it was quite late and you wondered if he needed anything. You told him that no, you were still awake and asked him there was something wrong. You didn’t know what you were expecting, but it was definitely not this reply:

I’m in front of your building, can i come up?

I understand if you’ll say no

Now kind of worried, you wasted no time ringing Isack in. It only took a couple minutes before he was at the door, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Sorry to bother you”, he shyly apologised.

“You’re not bothering me at all,” you reassured him. “Is everything alright? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I am. I just– I was out with some friends et… j’sais pas… kinda tried to go clubbing but it wasn’t really my scene anymore at one point and I left.” Isack ran his fingers through his hair, his frustration obvious. “Next thing I know, I’m walking to yours et me voilà.” He nervously chuckled, still unsure of how you’d react.

“Okay,” you simply replied with a nod. “Well, for starters I’m glad you’re alright. Can I get you anything to drink or eat?”

“Hmm, yes please.” Isack finally entered your home before you closed the door behind him. “Just some water is fine, thanks.”

“No problem. Just go sit and I’ll be back.” You walked to the kitchen, getting a glass for Isack, before going to the living-room where Isack had made his way already. “There you go,” you said as you handed him the glass.

A silence then settled between the two of you, as Isack almost gulped down the drink while you debated asking him more questions about his evening.

“Can I spend some time here? Just for a bit, I won’t stay long and bother you much.”

“You can stay as long as you want, Isack.” You offered him a gentle smile, reassuring him. “Wanna do anything? We got video games, lots of films…” You thought of other ideas as you kept listing things. “We can just chill in silence if you want some peace and quiet. Hmm, we can bake? I have some paint somewhere, or I can teach you how to knit. Choices are endless here.”

“A film sounds nice,” Isack decided.

“Something in mind?”

“Maybe one we might have both watched,” Isack suggested.

“Wait a second”, you told Isack before standing up and going to look at your DVD shelf. Your eyes caught a familiar box, and you smiled knowing that the driver wouldn’t refuse to watch it. “Cars?”

As you had guessed, Isack’s face lit up at the offer and he immediately nodded with a grin.

“Knew you would like that”, you teased as you turned the TV on and put the DVD in the player. You then went back to sit next to Isack on the couch, ready to start watching his favourite film.

You hadn’t thought about how fun it would be to watch Cars with a big fan like Isack, but it was probably the most you had ever laughed while watching a film with someone other than Max. Isack knew every line. He gave you some fun facts about characters, and told you all his favourite things about them.

It was definitely a moment you would cherish forever.

Isack didn’t even notice when Max joined the two of you for the second half of the film, too focused on continuing to show you his knowledge. Meanwhile, Max was softly smiling at the scene. Your eyes met his after a bit, and he raised an eyebrow at you as if to ask if you were having fun. Quickly glancing at Isack, you then looked back at Max and gave him a nod along with a bright smile before going back to listen to the rookie next to you.

Safe to say, you definitely wouldn’t mind watching the rest of the trilogy with Isack one day if it meant that you could relive a similar moment as tonight.

_________________________________________________

By Barcelona, Max was over it. From his team putting him on hard tyres for the last laps of the race to the incident with George, Max was just done and he didn’t hesitate showing it to everyone watching.

He didn’t care anymore. He didn’t care that everyone would be looking for him, whether it was his team or interviewers. He just wanted some peace and quiet. So as soon as he came back to his garage, his only goal was to find you. And when he did, he simply took your hand to drag you to his driver’s room.

When he locked the door, you almost thought that he wanted to let out his frustration with some less-than-family-friendly actions and you were ready to indulge him. But he actually just sat on the couch with a sigh, before he motioned for you to come closer. And you realised that Max just needed emotional rather than physical intimacy.

Max waited for you to sit down next to him before he laid back on the couch, his arms going around your waist to pull you closer until you were both lying on your side. Your hand went to take one of Max’s, acting as a sign of comfort. His grip tightened around you, while he hid his face in the crook of your neck.

No words were needed between you. It was easy to understand what Max was going through. You obviously couldn’t fully relate to it, but you understood.

Throughout the years, you had witnessed Max’s highs and lows. You could read him like no one else, and you knew right now how he was feeling. It wasn’t the same kind of disappointment that Max felt after a DNF. This one didn’t hit as hard; it was just an accumulation of small mistakes that had piled up until now before eventually being too much.

And right now, you knew that the only thing you could do for Max was this: just being there for him. Your presence was more than enough for him, and simply holding you close to him was enough for Max to stay grounded.

Slowly lifting his head from where it has been resting on your shoulder, Max gave you a loving kiss on your forehead. A silent ‘thank you for being there for me’. An acknowledgement of your limitless and eternal support, which he wouldn’t trade for anything else.

Max had you, and you had him. The two of you having each other in this world was the only thing that you would both ever need.

…..

Max eventually apologised the next day, on his Instagram account, and you also knew that he had sent a text to George as well.

If someone were to ask you, it was almost like those two brought the worst in each other. But at the end of the day, it was a racing incident that did not deserve to impact whatever relation they had off track – were they even friends? Colleagues harbouring some weird unresolved tension? Sometimes even you didn’t know the exact way Max considered some of his fellow drivers, but there was for sure no pure hatred for any of them and it wouldn’t change.

Everything that had happened on track was fortunately not affecting them off track. You got proof of that when you and Max randomly met George at the Nice airport. The Brit was on his way to Paris to watch the Roland-Garros final – which you were extremely jealous of – and it was like nothing had ever happened between the two drivers as the atmosphere between them was nothing but respectful.

“So, you’re back to being besties again now?” You teased Max once George had left.

“Let’s not push it”, Max replied with a sigh. “You’re just saying that because you want us to join him in Paris.”

“What?” You tried to act innocent as you dragged out the syllable. “Me, wanting to go see what will probably be the most iconic final of this generation? No way,” you tried to deny in vain.

“Sorry, I’ll take you next year.”

“Yeah you better, Verstappen.” You nudged him with your shoulder, showing that you weren’t mad.

“You know, one day you won’t be able to call me by my last name if we both have it.”

“What?”

“What?” He repeated with a smirk. “Didn’t say anything.”

“I–” You were dumbfounded. You watched as Max began walking again, leaving you to stand in the middle of the airport by yourself. Were you crazy? Did you mishear him? No way, you thought. But still, you had to eventually accept that maybe you had misunderstood him because it would be impossible to make Max repeat himself if you had indeed heard him right.

While you were internally debating the conversation that had happened, Max was smiling at himself. His little plan was far from perfect for now, but it was nicely taking shape. He would eventually need some help – perhaps from some rookies that would do anything for their grid mum’s happiness, but right now it was just fun for him to make you go a bit crazy with his cryptic comments. After all, he had to make sure you wouldn’t say no once the moment would happen

..........

Taglist: @umm-i-love-u @callsign-mirage @freyathehuntress @elieanana @suns3treading @fastandcurious16 @l3thal-l0lita @urmomsgirlfriend1 @guacala

Ok so i fr thought i would never be done w this chap lol😭 i loved the ideas i had for it but idk it took me so long to acc write them

Hope y'all are still enjoying the fic!! I'm always looking forward to knowing your thoughts🫶🏻

I've begun writing the canada chap but I'll probs wait till next week to post it bc i wanna see what happens during the lil break in case there's anything worth mentioning (and if not, I'll let my brain imagine smth)

See you soon, take care of yourselves, love y'all xx

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #f1 x you #formula 1 x you #max verstappen x you #mv1 #mv1 x reader #mv1 x you #grid mum series<3

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pucksandpower · 1 month ago

Text

Mon Soleil

Charles Leclerc x high school sweetheart!Reader

Summary: you don’t belong in the shadows, but selfishly Charles loves that you’re only his there (in which Charles Leclerc has kept his girlfriend hidden from the world for years and years … until he didn’t)

The door shuts softly behind him.

That in itself is telling — Charles always shuts it gently when he’s trying not to bring the world inside with him. Shoes scuffed, travel-worn jacket slung over one shoulder, eyes a little too tired to be young, he exhales like the weight of the grid is still pressing against his spine.

Silence greets him, familiar and warm. It’s not the absence of noise, but the presence of peace.

He walks through the apartment slowly, like something might break if he moves too fast. The city hums outside, Monaco golden and quiet beneath the early evening sky. From the living room, the sliding balcony doors are cracked open just enough to let in the scent of sea salt and sun-warmed stone.

That’s where you are.

Curled up on the balcony chaise, legs tucked beneath you, a loose cardigan slipping off one shoulder. There’s a book in your lap, but it’s long since fallen shut. Your eyes are closed, head tipped toward the sky like you’re soaking in the last of the daylight. Hair soft, skin glowing in the low sun — it hits him all at once, how desperately he’s missed you.

Charles leans against the doorframe, watching for a moment, throat tight.

“Mon soleil,” he says softly, barely more than breath.

You blink your eyes open, slow and sleepy, like your mind’s still somewhere inside the pages or the sunlight or the quiet. Then you smile.

“Hey,” you say, voice rough with rest.

He crosses the distance in seconds. The moment his lips brush your temple, everything else dissolves — the cameras, the interviews, the brutal double-header, the fake smiles. All of it gone. You tilt your head so he can press a second kiss just under your ear, and his arms wrap around you from behind, grounding.

“You’re home early,” you murmur.

Charles huffs a quiet laugh against your skin. “It’s nine.”

Your fingers find his. “Early for you.”

He exhales, forehead pressed to your shoulder. “Didn’t want to go to the after-party. Couldn’t take another question about the championship.”

“Did you win?”

“Yeah.”

There’s a pause.

“I’m proud of you,” you say, simply, gently. Like you mean it and nothing else. No noise. No expectations.

He closes his eyes.

“You know they had me filming a social media bit with Lewis twenty minutes after I crossed the finish line?” He says, muffled against your collarbone. “I was still sweating. I hadn’t even called Maman yet.”

“Sounds like a dream job.”

Charles snorts. “Yeah. The dream.”

You twist a little to look at him. There’s a faint crease between his brows, like something he hasn’t said yet is still sitting there, waiting.

“What is it?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he brushes your hair back, fingers gentle at your temple, then your jaw. The kind of touch that says you’re real. I need that right now. You lean into it.

“They want me to fake date someone,” he says finally, eyes fixed on yours. “For a brand thing. PR stunt. ‘Broaden my audience appeal.’ Some model who’s apparently very into vintage cars and barely has a pulse.”

You blink.

He watches you, gauging the flicker of emotion across your face. “I said no,” he adds, quickly. “Obviously. I didn’t even let them finish the pitch.”

Your voice is dry. “But you told me anyway.”

“I had to,” Charles says. “It’s your life too.”

You’re quiet for a moment. “Do you think they’d actually push it?”

He sighs. “They’re not stupid. They know I’d walk before I let them touch this.” His thumb presses to the space over your heart. “But they’re not used to me saying no to everything else.”

“You’ve said no to a lot.”

He smiles faintly. “Yeah, but only when it’s worth it.”

You reach for his hand, the one still resting on your shoulder. Your fingers link instinctively.

“Was it hard?” You ask. “To say no?”

“No,” he says immediately. “What’s hard is not being able to tell the world why.”

There’s something deeper in that — something that aches.

You look at him. “You’d want to?”

He hesitates.

“I would,” Charles says quietly. “But I know what it would do to you.”

That stings, a little. Not because it’s wrong, but because it’s true.

He sees it in your expression. “Hey,” he says, gently. “I didn’t mean that like — like you can’t handle it. I know you could. I just … I like this. Us. The quiet. The privacy.”

“I like it too,” you admit, leaning your cheek into his shoulder. “But sometimes I think … maybe I’m hiding.”

“You’re not,” he says immediately, and there’s something fierce about it, the way his arms tighten around you. “You’re not. You just like peace. And that doesn’t mean you’re hiding.”

You shrug.

He shifts to face you more directly, hands cupping your jaw now. “You don’t belong in the shadows,” Charles murmurs, brushing his thumbs across your cheeks. “But selfishly, I love that you’re only mine there.”

You exhale a shaky little laugh. “That’s kind of possessive.”

He smiles. “Yeah. It is.”

“You’re usually not.”

“Not with the world, no,” he says. “But with you? Yeah. I am. I want to be.”

You look at him for a long time.

There’s still sea breeze in the air, warm and thick with salt. The sun is low now, slipping behind the hills. The light on your skin is rose-gold, and he looks at you like you hung the sun there yourself.

“I wrote today,” you say finally.

His eyes brighten. “Yeah?”

You nod. “Couple thousand words. Not great ones. But better than the last few days.”

“I want to read them.”

You raise a brow. “You always say that.”

“And I always mean it.”

“I’m not ready.”

He doesn’t push. “Okay.”

You smile, just a little. “But I like that you ask.”

Charles leans forward, brushing his lips across your forehead. “Always will.”

The wind stirs a strand of hair across your cheek, and he tucks it behind your ear with a kind of reverence.

“How long are you home for?” You ask.

“Five days.”

“Before Spain?”

“Yeah. I was going to train tomorrow, but I think I’ll take the morning off.”

Your voice is quiet. “For rest?”

“For you,” he says, and the way he says it makes your heart stumble.

“Charles-”

“No,” he says, gently. “You don’t have to earn it. I want time with you. You’re the only place I feel human lately.”

You swallow.

He leans in and kisses your cheek, slow and warm. Then your jaw. Then your neck, just above your pulse. You shiver slightly, but it’s comfort more than anything else — being found, being known.

“You want to go to bed?” He asks quietly.

You nod.

So he takes your hand, and it’s not rushed — it’s not hungry or dramatic. It’s grounding. Soft. He guides you inside, flicking off lights as you go, easing you into your shared room like he’s placing you somewhere safe.

In the bedroom, he pulls off your cardigan for you, brushing your shoulders with his hands. He peels back the covers, helps you climb in, then joins you. Not an inch of space between your bodies. His arms come around your waist from behind, holding you steady.

He presses a kiss to the back of your neck. “You’re not hiding,” he whispers. “You’re home.”

You reach back for his hand under the sheets. “Even when I’m quiet?”

“Especially when you’re quiet.”

He’s tracing patterns across your ribs now, soothing. Breathing slow. The world doesn’t exist here.

“Mon soleil,” he murmurs again, a little sleepier this time. “Even when the lights go out.”

You hum. “I’m glad you’re home.”

“I always come back to you.”

And in the hush of the room, you believe him.

He holds you closer.

Outside, Monaco sleeps.

Inside, he dreams only of you.

***

The car pulls up to the curb in front of the Palais de Tokyo, slow and deliberate like it knows what’s waiting outside.

Flashes ignite immediately — paparazzi like moths drawn to the promise of fame. The bulbs flicker against the polished black of the car, against the glittering heels stepping out before them, against the tension sitting thick in Charles’ chest.

He glances over at you.

“You sure?” He murmurs.

You nod, hands smoothed over the deep navy fabric of your dress. His fingers brush over yours where they rest in your lap — one soft, grounding touch.

“Okay,” he breathes. Then he adds, a little lower, “Stay close to me.”

The door opens.

The noise hits first — camera shutters, yelling voices, someone shouting his name in five different accents. It’s not unusual. It’s just … amplified. Paris amplifies everything. This isn’t a race weekend. This is Fashion Week. Which means the crowd outside isn’t just motorsport fans — it’s models, influencers, press junkies, people who invent rumors for fun and watch them come to life in real time.

You step out first.

And it’s small, the moment. Barely three seconds between your heels touching pavement and Charles following behind you, hand briefly ghosting the small of your back.

But it’s enough.

The buzz changes pitch the second he emerges.

There’s a flicker — a sharp inhale among the crowd, someone saying “Wait, who is that?” and another whispering your name as a question. Not as a fact. Just an idea. But ideas are dangerous here. Ideas spark headlines.

“Keep walking,” Charles mutters under his breath, close enough for only you to hear. “Just smile. Straight through.”

You nod. You’ve done this before — stepped through this minefield together. But something feels different tonight. Sharper.

Inside, the noise doesn’t follow. The air changes. The show hasn’t started yet, and the room is full of champagne flutes, soft designer scents, the low hum of fashion people pretending not to care who else is watching. You don’t drink — your fingers toy with the stem of a glass while Charles excuses himself for a brief interview across the room.

You watch him go.

He’s good at this. Too good. Easy smile, charming accent, sharp tux — he blends in so well it’s almost hard to remember how badly he used to flinch under attention.

The memory hits like a whisper.

***

It was at school, back in Monaco. He’d shown up to class ten minutes late, hair still wet from training, a smudge of grease on his collar. You were already sitting near the back, half-hiding behind a copy of Little Women.

He slid into the seat next to you, awkward and quiet. Everyone knew who he was. Charles Leclerc — the golden boy. The kid with the karting trophies and the tragic backstory. But up close, he didn’t seem golden. He seemed … tired.

He hadn’t spoken until three days later, when you’d accidentally left your notebook behind after class. He ran it out to you — literally ran. You were already halfway down the hall when he called your name.

You turned.

He held it out. “You forgot this.”

You took it, quietly. “Thanks.”

He hesitated, then blurted, “You write poems in the margins.”

Your eyes narrowed. “You read it?”

“No, I mean, just that one page. The one on the train. It was … good.”

You tilted your head. “You read poetry?”

“No,” he said, too quickly. Then, “Sometimes. I don’t understand most of it.”

You smiled. “That’s okay. Most people don’t.”

He paused. “Can I sit next to you again tomorrow?”

You nodded.

That was it. That was the moment it began.

Not with a spark. But a softness.

***

Now, across the room, Charles finishes his interview and makes his way back to you, expression slightly tight.

“Are we okay?” You ask under your breath.

He kisses your cheek. “Fine. One of the photographers caught a weird angle of us getting out of the car. It’ll blow over.”

You nod slowly. “You sure?”

“No,” he admits, low. “But I’m pretending.”

The lights dim then, and conversation dissolves into applause as the show begins. Your friend’s collection floats down the runway — fluid and sharp, dramatic and quiet all at once. You squeeze Charles’ hand, and he leans in to whisper, “He’ll be huge after this.”

You smile. “I know.”

But it doesn’t last.

After the show, as the crowd floods the exit, there’s a moment — a flash of something too fast to be fully seen. A journalist stepping forward, recorder in hand.

“Charles, Charles, one question?”

He stops out of habit. You hesitate beside him.

The journalist glances at you, sharp and curious. “Is this your girlfriend?”

Silence.

For a second — just one — he doesn’t say anything. The beat stretches, too long, too brittle.

Then, “No comment.”

You flinch, barely. But he feels it. Of course he does.

He wraps a protective arm around your waist, not possessive but anchoring. “We’re here supporting a friend.”

The journalist tilts her head, eyes narrowing. “Right. So the matching entrance was just coincidence?”

Charles doesn’t answer.

You can feel the tension in his body, coiled and barely held.

He pulls you away before it escalates. No scene. Just a quick exit, one hand in yours as you disappear back into the private car waiting in the alley.

The moment the doors shut, the silence is deafening.

You stare out the window.

He speaks first. “I didn’t mean-”

“I know,” you say, too quickly.

“But it didn’t sound like-”

“I know, Charles.”

Another pause.

“I just …” he sighs. “It wasn’t the moment.”

You nod. “It never is.”

He closes his eyes. “That’s not fair.”

“Maybe not. But it’s true.”

There’s a sharp quiet between you now, the kind that doesn’t come from anger but from ache.

Charles leans forward, elbows on his knees, hands in his hair. “I’m trying to protect you.”

You stare at him. “And I love you for it. But I’m not breakable.”

“I know that.”

You exhale, soft. “Do you?”

He turns to face you fully. “I do. But you didn’t see the headlines they almost ran after Monaco. They twist everything. I don’t want you swallowed up in that circus. I want you safe.”

“And I want you honest.”

His jaw tightens.

You look away. “This is the first time in months we’ve fought.”

“I hate it.”

“Me too.”

The car pulls up to the hotel. You walk inside together, quiet, each step heavy with words unspoken. You ride the elevator without touching. Not out of distance, but because neither of you knows how to fix this yet.

The second the hotel door clicks shut, Charles exhales.

You kick off your shoes, walk toward the window. The Paris skyline is lit in gold and white. The Eiffel Tower gleams in the distance, unbothered.

You don’t hear him cross the room, but you feel it when his hands come to your waist.

“I didn’t say it,” he murmurs, voice rough. “But I thought it.”

You swallow.

His lips brush your shoulder. “I always think it.”

“I know.”

His hands move slowly, drawing you back into him, arms around your waist. His voice dips lower. “I’m yours. Always. Even when I can’t say it out loud.”

You turn in his arms, looking up at him. “You shouldn’t have to hide the things you love.”

“I’m not hiding,” Charles says, quiet but certain. “I’m guarding. There’s a difference.”

Your eyes search his.

He leans in, forehead resting against yours. “Don’t shrink from the light,” you whisper.

“I don’t,” he breathes. “I just want the light to stay mine.”

You kiss him first.

And then everything slows.

There’s no rush in the way he undresses you — just reverence. His fingers skim your spine, your ribs, the sides of your thighs. You feel his breath at your neck, his lips brushing over your skin like apology and promise all at once.

He lifts you gently, lays you back against the sheets with a kind of sacred care. Like the whole world could fall apart and he’d still hold you steady. Every movement is deliberate, grounding. He touches you like you’re sunlight made tangible — something fleeting he wants to memorize again and again.

His hands stay on your hips, firm and steady, even as his mouth whispers over your skin — your collarbone, your chest, your stomach.

“I don’t need the world to know,” he murmurs, voice thick. “But I need you to know.”

“I do,” you breathe. “I’ve always known.”

He kisses you like that’s the only answer he’ll ever need.

When it’s over, your limbs tangled, breath synced, he brushes a strand of hair off your forehead.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “For freezing.”

You shake your head. “You were scared.”

He holds you tighter. “I just want to keep you.”

“You have me.”

He nods.

Outside, Paris lives loud. Inside, Charles stays quiet — arms around you like gravity.

He says it again, barely audible.

“Mon soleil.”

And you fall asleep knowing he means it.

***

It’s early when Charles wakes, the sky outside a soft watercolor of dawn. The city’s barely breathing yet, Paris muted under pale blue and silver. The sheets are warm. You’re tucked against him, one arm slung across his ribs, your face buried somewhere near his collarbone.

He stays still for a moment.

Watches you.

You’re beautiful in the way only people at rest can be — unguarded, soft-edged, not thinking of the world or the weight of it. And Charles, for all his fame, for all his speed, has always worshipped slowness with you. He memorizes the shape of your mouth, the curve of your spine under the duvet. It makes him ache, how safe you look here, next to him. Like maybe, just maybe, he hasn’t ruined that yet.

He slips out of bed carefully, not waking you. Pads across the hotel room barefoot, dragging his fingers through sleep-mussed hair. There’s a note of stillness in him this morning, unusual but welcome. The weight of last night is still there, but it’s different now. Muted.

Your suitcase sits open in the corner, a paperback wedged between layers of clothing. The spine cracked, corners worn.

But it’s not the book that stops him.

It’s the manila folder on the desk.

The pages are stacked neatly, a thick rubber band holding them together. His name’s not on the front, and you haven’t told him much — only that it’s your second book, slower going than the first. But the edges are filled with your handwriting, your margin notes, your scratched-out titles.

He tells himself not to look.

Then he does.

Just one page, he promises.

Then two.

Then-

A line.

To the boy who lives at 320 km/h but holds me like I’m fragile porcelain.

Charles stops breathing for a second.

The words blur.

He sinks into the desk chair, pages cradled in his hands like they might shatter. He flips through more — just a few at first, then faster, scanning blocks of dialogue and prose, your voice echoing in every line. It’s fiction. Of course it is. But he knows himself in the spaces between. In the way the protagonist runs from everything except her. In the way he comes back. Always.

There’s a passage — midway through — that hits too close.

He doesn’t know how to rest. His body hums even in sleep. But when he touches her, something changes. It’s not desperation — it’s reverence. He holds her like she’s a map, and he’s finally found home.

Charles exhales, long and slow.

He reads on.

The world never asked him who he was. They only told him what to be. But with her, he can become something else. Someone honest. Someone flawed. Someone who doesn’t always win but is still worth loving.

He closes the manuscript after that, heart pounding. A different kind of pressure — intimate, unbearable, right under his ribs.

You see him.

You always have.

And suddenly, he wants to speak. To tell you everything he never quite knows how to say out loud.

So he finds a notepad in the hotel drawer. Quietly, without thinking too much, he writes.

***

Letter one.

Found tucked inside your book the next morning.

I am so tired of being the world’s Charles Leclerc. But I never tire of being yours.

***

Letter two.

Slipped between your sketchbook pages a few days later.

Sometimes I think you’re a quiet kind of genius. The world sees flashes, but I get the whole storm. You make me want to be more than fast. You make me want to be still.

***

Letter three.

Folded into the pocket of your jacket before he leaves for Spain.

I dreamt once that we lived in a house by the sea. No press. No racing. Just your words, my hands, and time. I don’t know if I’ll ever deserve that. But I want it.

***

He doesn’t sign them.

Doesn’t say they’re from him. Doesn’t need to.

You’d know his handwriting anywhere.

***

The morning after you return from Paris, you find the first one.

It’s there, plain as anything, pressed between two chapters of the book you’ve been reading for weeks. You weren’t even sure where you’d packed it. But it finds you.

You don’t say anything.

You just … sit with it.

Read it twice. Three times.

Then you place the paper back inside the pages and slide the book onto the nightstand like nothing happened.

When Charles stirs, you’re already watching him.

He groans a little, stretching. “What time is it?”

“Still early,” you murmur.

“Mm,” he rolls closer, eyes half-lidded. “You’re staring.”

“Maybe.”

He grins. “Lucky me.”

You lean in and kiss him.

It’s longer than usual. Slower. More certain. His hands come up to cradle your face, a little confused but not resisting.

When you pull back, he’s blinking at you. “What was that for?”

You shrug. “Felt like it.”

He hums, pulling you in again. “Do it again.”

So you do.

***

That day, he flies out for a press shoot in Spain. You stay in Monaco, returning to your writing, to your own quiet world.

But something’s shifted.

You start noticing the notes.

They don’t come every day. They’re not dramatic or poetic. They’re just him. Honest. Raw. Tucked where you least expect them — inside your journal, between the receipts in your wallet, once even in the fridge, stuck to the almond milk.

And still, you don’t mention them.

Because that’s the thing about Charles.

He’s loud on track. Loud when he’s winning. Loud when he’s fighting.

But when he loves — it’s quiet.

***

A few nights later, you’re on FaceTime. He’s sprawled across a hotel bed, hair wet from a shower, wearing a T-shirt that used to be yours.

“You find any new letters?” He asks, casual, but you see the corner of his mouth twitch.

You tilt your head. “Should I be looking?”

He smirks. “Maybe.”

You smile. “No new ones today.”

He feigns offense. “That you found.”

“Exactly.”

He laughs, soft and real. “You like them?”

“I do.”

There’s a pause.

“Even when I’m not good at saying it out loud,” Charles murmurs, “I’m thinking about you.”

“I know.”

He leans back, arms crossed under his head. “I think about how we met, sometimes. How I didn’t talk for like two weeks. You probably thought I was an idiot.”

“I thought you were shy.”

He blinks. “Really?”

“Yeah. You were always rushing somewhere, but you looked like you were trying not to bump into anyone.”

He laughs. “Because I was. Monaco’s small but brutal.”

You soften. “You’ve always been good at seeing everything.”

He nods. “But you were the first person who saw me. Before the racing. Before the trophies.”

“I still do.”

He swallows hard.

***

Later that week, another letter finds you inside your typewriter cover.

Letter four.

I don’t always know who I am to the world. Sometimes it changes by the hour. But with you, I never have to wonder. You anchor me. You make the noise stop. I hope I do the same for you. Even if I don’t say it, I’m trying.

You fold it gently, slide it under your pillow.

He’s not with you tonight, but the space beside you feels a little less empty.

***

A few days later, you call him out of the blue.

He answers on the second ring, breathless. “Everything okay?”

You smile. “Yeah. Just wanted to hear your voice.”

He sighs, soft and happy. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

There’s a pause. Then:

“Do you want me to stop?” He asks.

You blink. “Stop what?”

“The notes. The letters. If it’s too much.”

Your heart twists. “Charles. No. I love them.”

He lets out a breath. “Okay.”

You add, quieter, ��I keep them. All of them.”

“I know,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “I figured.”

***

That weekend, he comes home.

No cameras. No entourage. Just him, shoulders looser than they’ve been in months.

You open the door in sweatpants, hair still damp from a shower, and he smiles like it’s the only thing he’s been waiting for all week.

“Hi,” you say.

He drops his bag and kisses you before you can say anything else.

Later, curled up on the couch, his head in your lap, he murmurs, “You wrote about me.”

You pretend not to know what he means. “Everyone writes about you.”

“No,” he says, tilting his head to look up at you. “You wrote about me.”

You brush your fingers through his hair. “I write about what matters.”

He closes his eyes. “I hope you always do.”

You kiss his forehead. “And you’ll keep writing letters?”

He grins. “Until I run out of hiding spots.”

You smile. “Then you’ll just have to start saying them.”

He nods. “I will. One day.”

But until then-

The notes are enough.

***

He sounds like someone else on the phone.

The call comes after the sprint race in Miami, crackling with poor reception and exhaustion. He’s finished P2, and the media's already torn him apart for not converting pole into a win. Again. You can hear it in his voice — the frayed edges, the clipped tone he tries to soften for you.

“They said I’m not aggressive enough,” Charles mutters. “That I’m too emotional. That I’m-” he breaks off, breathing hard. “That I don’t have the killer instinct.”

You’re silent for a moment. “Do you believe them?”

“No,” he says, too fast. “But maybe … I don’t know. Maybe they’re right. Maybe I’m-” he trails off again, breath catching in his throat.

You sit up straighter, your grip on the phone tightening. “Charles.”

He doesn’t respond right away.

“Charles, look at me.”

“I can’t,” he whispers. “You’re not here.”

And that’s all it takes.

You’re already moving, throwing clothes into a carry-on bag with more purpose than coordination. You book a last-minute flight while brushing your teeth, your laptop balanced on the bathroom counter. The Miami heat feels a world away, but you can already see it — the chaos of the paddock, the swarm of cameras, the sound bites dissecting his every word.

And underneath it all: him.

Raw. Alone.

Not anymore.

***

By the time you arrive, the Sunday sun is already bruising the skyline, and you haven’t slept in seventeen hours. But the moment you step through the paddock gates, heart pounding behind your lanyard and sunglasses, you know exactly what you’re looking for.

He doesn’t see you at first.

He’s talking to an engineer, brow furrowed, body wound tight like wire. But then someone taps his shoulder, nods in your direction, and Charles turns.

His whole face shifts.

Like breathing after holding it too long.

He doesn’t say anything. Just strides across the paddock like the ground might collapse between you if he doesn’t close the distance fast enough. And then he’s there — eyes wild, chest rising and falling fast.

“You’re here,” he breathes, voice cracked.

You nod. “Of course I am.”

He grabs your wrist — not roughly, but with urgency. “Come with me.”

He pulls you through a back hallway you’ve never seen before, past mechanics and closed doors, until he finds an unlocked storage closet that smells like tires and adrenaline. He drags you in, shuts the door behind him, and exhales like he’s finally allowed to fall apart.

And then-

His arms are around you.

Just like that.

He buries his face in your neck, hands shaking at your waist. “I couldn’t do it anymore,” he whispers. “I tried. I really tried.”

“I know,” you say, threading your fingers into his hair. “I know you did.”

“They said so many things,” he murmurs against your skin. “Not just about driving. About who I am. About what I’m not. It was so loud, and I just — I needed you.”

You pull back just enough to cup his face, forcing him to look at you. “Charles. Listen to me. You are not what they say. You’re still my Charles. Not just Ferrari’s. Not theirs.”

His eyes close, a single tear slipping down. “You always say the right thing.”

“No,” you say, brushing it away. “I just say what’s true.”

He looks at you then, really looks at you — hair a mess from travel, skin tired from the flight, sunglasses still tangled in your hair. And he kisses you like he’s afraid you’ll vanish.

Like if he doesn’t hold you tight enough, the world will take you too.

Your back hits the supply shelf with a soft thud, and his hands are on your jaw, your shoulders, your waist — everywhere at once. You kiss him back just as fiercely, anchoring him with every breath.

“Say it again,” he murmurs, lips brushing yours.

“You’re still mine,” you whisper. “Always mine.”

***

That night, the hotel room is dark and quiet, lit only by the faint glow of Miami’s skyline outside the floor-to-ceiling windows. You’re on the bed, curled up in one of his shirts, freshly showered, still buzzing from the day.

He sits on the edge, towel around his neck, hands braced on his knees like he’s holding himself together.

You crawl over to him slowly, wrapping your arms around his torso from behind.

“Hey,” you murmur against his shoulder.

He exhales. “I keep thinking I have to be perfect. Not just on track. Everywhere.”

“You don’t.”

“I know,” he says. “But they make it feel like I do. Like if I’m not smiling enough, or fast enough, or hard enough, I’m … replaceable.”

You press a kiss between his shoulder blades. “You’re not.”

He turns to face you, eyes dark and heavy with everything he’s been carrying.

“You always know how to make it stop hurting,” he whispers.

You crawl into his lap, straddling him slowly, hands cupping his cheeks.

“Because I love you,” you say simply.

His lips find yours again, slower this time. Less desperation. More reverence. His hands slide under your thighs, then up your back, anchoring you to him like you’re the only solid thing he has left.

“You’re my girl,” he murmurs, voice hoarse. “My warmth. My sun.”

You kiss his temple. “Then let me be.”

And he does.

He lays you back on the sheets like you’re fragile and sacred all at once. His touch is soft but sure, worshipful, his hands tracing every inch of skin like it’s familiar scripture. He whispers in French sometimes, half-prayer, half-plea. His mouth brushes over your collarbone, your ribs, the inside of your wrist.

“Mon soleil,” he says again and again. “My girl. My warmth. My sun.”

You thread your fingers through his hair, breath catching as he kisses a slow trail along your sternum.

“You don’t have to prove anything here,” you whisper.

“I know,” he says. “But I still want to show you.”

His voice trembles — not from nerves, but from feeling. Too much of it, barely contained.

“If I crash out of everything,” he says, forehead resting against yours, “I want to crash into you.”

Your heart stutters.

“I’d catch you,” you breathe.

His lips find yours again, and this time it’s softer. Slower. Full of promises neither of you speak aloud. He moves like he’s memorizing you. Not rushing. Not conquering. Just … loving. Tracing you with quiet devotion.

When it’s over, he doesn’t let go. Just holds you to his chest, face buried in your hair.

Neither of you speaks for a while.

Eventually, you say into the silence, “I’m coming to the next race.”

He nods, arm tightening around you. “Good.”

“I’ll be at the track. No press. Just watching.”

He kisses the crown of your head. “Knowing you’re there changes everything.”

You press a hand to his heart. “It’s still yours, you know. Even when you think you’ve lost yourself.”

He closes his eyes. “You always bring me back.”

***

And in the morning, before you leave for the airport, you find another note.

Folded into the pocket of your hoodie.

His handwriting, scrawled but certain.

You saved me this weekend. You keep saving me. I love you more than the silence between races, more than the moments I win. You are the only finish line that matters.

You don’t cry.

But you hold it to your chest for a long time before tucking it into your wallet.

Where all the others live.

***

The mirror glints with a kind of reverence.

Your reflection blurs around the edges, not because of the makeup or the soft updo or the silk pooling at your ankles, but because tonight — the first time ever — you are not just his secret. You’re stepping into the light with him.

He’s behind you in the hotel room, shirtless and warm from the shower, towel still low on his hips. His eyes are on you like you’re something he dreamed up. Slowly, he crosses the floor, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“You look like starlight,” Charles murmurs against your skin.

You smile softly. “That’s poetic.”

“It’s just true.”

Your fingers rest lightly over his. “You still sure about this? We can still back out. Stay here. Order room service. Watch old races until you fall asleep in your pasta again.”

He laughs quietly, that low, melted sound. “And miss the chance to show you off? No, mon solei.”

He kisses your shoulder, breath warm. “Besides,” he says, voice dropping to a whisper, “you’ve been mine in the shadows for too long.”

***

The carpet is a blur of white lights and velvet ropes, of camera flashes and murmured names, but his hand never leaves yours.

Not once.

You step out of the car together, and everything slows.

You feel the collective intake of breath from the press line, from the onlookers who’ve speculated, dissected, whispered. Your dress shimmers under the strobes, and his tux is impeccable — tailored like the life he lives — but it’s the way he looks at you that steals the attention.

Not just affection. Not even pride.

A kind of awe. Like he can’t believe you’re real, and that you chose him.

It’s the kind of look that writes headlines before they’re even typed.

Charles doesn't falter. He doesn’t glance around to see who’s watching. His eyes are only for you. Fingers laced, thumb rubbing the inside of your wrist in slow, grounding circles.

You hear one journalist gasp softly into her mic, like she’s realizing it in real time.

“That’s her,” someone murmurs. “The girl Charles Leclerc looks at like she hung the stars.”

And still, his eyes don’t leave yours.

“Too late to run?” You whisper as cameras flash like lightning.

He grins. “You run, I follow.”

A dozen questions are hurled in your direction as you move down the carpet together.

“Is this your girlfriend?”

“Are you official?”

“When did it start?”

Charles only smiles — polite but cool. Still untouchable. But his hand never wavers in yours. He lets the silence answer for him.

A look. A touch. A truth held in the space between bodies.

The world sees it.

And for once, you let them.

***

Later, when the speeches are done and the champagne has long gone warm, you both slip away.

Charles leads you up to the rooftop of the venue — one of those quiet, off-limits spots only someone like him could access without question. The wind brushes against your skin, and the lights of Monaco twinkle in the distance, reflected on the sea like fallen stars.

You kick off your heels the second the door closes behind you.

“God, I thought I was going to trip over a camera cable and faceplant into Toto Wolff,” you mutter.

Charles laughs, pulling off his bowtie and pocketing it. “I was watching your feet the entire time, just in case.”

You walk to the edge of the rooftop together, city stretched out below you like something painted. He stands behind you again, wrapping his arms around your waist, just like in the mirror hours ago.

“Everyone was staring,” you say, voice quieter now.

“Good,” he murmurs.

You turn your head, just enough to see him. “Not too much?”

He shakes his head. “I wanted them to see. Finally.”

There’s a silence — comfortable, but heavy with something unsaid. You rest your head against his shoulder and close your eyes, letting the night soak into your skin.

“I’m proud of you,” you whisper.

“For what?”

“For being brave. For letting them see the real thing.”

He exhales slowly. “It wasn’t hard. Not with you next to me.”

You feel him shift behind you, hands moving, and then he’s stepping around to face you. His expression is unreadable — tender but serious, eyes darker than usual under the moonlight.

Then he pulls something from his jacket pocket.

A ring.

Small. Delicate. Not flashy.

Two stones nestled together, pressed into a slim gold band.

One for his birth month. One for yours.

Not a proposal.

But something more sacred, somehow.

A promise.

“Charles-”

“I don’t want headlines,” he says quietly. “I don’t want statements. I don’t even want to trend on Twitter.”

He takes your hand.

“I want you to know, here and now, that even if no one ever saw us, if this had stayed ours forever — I would still love you like this. With everything.”

He slides the ring onto your finger. It fits perfectly.

“It’s not for the world,” he adds. “It’s for you. For us. For the days you stayed when I gave you nothing but exhaustion and travel and chaos. For the nights you held me when I came home empty. It’s a reminder. That no matter where I am, what I win, how loud it gets …”

He cups your cheek.

“You are still the only thing I want to come home to.”

You’re crying before you can stop it.

He pulls you into his chest, rocking you gently as you try to speak.

“You always make me feel like I’m not just … orbiting your world,” you manage. “Like I belong.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, thumbs brushing the corners of your eyes.

“You are my world.”

You shake your head slowly, overwhelmed. “You’re always giving and giving. Aren’t you tired?”

His expression softens. “I am,” he admits. “But I’m less tired when I’m with you.”

You lean your forehead against his, the ring cool against his skin.

“I’ll wear this every day,” you whisper. “Even if it’s just for me.”

He smiles. “It’s always just for you.”

***

Much later, back in the hotel room, you sit on the balcony while he undresses inside. The city hums below, faint and electric. The air smells like salt and roses.

He comes out in soft cotton and bare feet, moving quietly.

And he sees you — bathed in the golden spill of the balcony lights, skin glowing, hair a little undone from the night, ring catching the faint glint of stars.

It mirrors the first night you sat like this, back at the beginning.

When he came home unraveling and found you, grounding him without even trying.

Now, he stops in the doorway, watching you like he’s memorizing it.

Like if he looks away, the light might disappear.

You glance up. “What?”

He smiles, slow and quiet. Walks over and leans down to kiss the top of your head.

“Mon soleil.”

You tilt your face toward him, teasing. “You’re really not gonna retire that nickname, huh?”

“Never,” he says simply, kissing your temple again. “Because it’s still true.”

You shift so he can sit behind you, and he wraps his arms around your waist, legs bracketing yours as you both look out at the water.

“The world saw you tonight,” he says after a long silence.

“And?” You murmur.

He presses his lips to the curve of your neck.

“And they finally know what I’ve always known,” he whispers.

You turn to look at him.

“That I revolve around you.”

The wind tugs gently at your hair, and his hands find yours again. His grip is warm. Steady.

You lean into him and close your eyes.

And for once, the world doesn’t feel too loud.

Because it’s not just you in the shadows anymore.

It’s you, glowing.

And him — right where he’s always been.

Yours.

2K notes · View notes

inkandapex · 2 months ago

Text

butterflies

Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: After a tough triple header, Lando’s feeling the pressure, and you’re there to offer him comfort. As he opens up about his struggles, a surprising confession slips out.

Words: 2.1k

Warnings: swearing, mental health

The triple header was finally over. But it had chewed Lando up and spat him out along the way.

Three weekends. Three countries — Japan, Bahrain, Saudi Arabia — each one stacking exhaustion, frustration, and pressure on his shoulders like invisible weights he couldn’t shake off.

It had started so well. Pole position. A first win of the season. A lead in the championship standings. For a brief, brilliant moment, it felt like everything was falling into place.

And then, almost overnight, it began to unravel.

A costly mistake during qualifying. A crash in Saudi that left him stranded in P10 on the grid. Every misstep gnawed at him, louder and sharper than any of the praise that followed.

His team, his fans, his family, they all tried to reassure him. Finishing P4 from a backfoot start was an incredible recovery. They told him they were proud. They told him to hold his head high.

But Lando being Lando, he carried the weight of every mistake like a scar carved into his chest.

Everyone saw it, the way each race seemed to pull him a little further away from himself. The slump of his shoulders, the blankness in his gaze when he thought no one was looking. When he scrolled through his phone late at night, the hateful comments and cruel jokes flashing across his screen, dissecting him, mocking him, criticizing every tiny misstep like he wasn’t even human.

Hours after the Saudi race, the four of you — Max, P, Lando, and you — ended up crashing in Lando’s hotel room, ordering a late dinner to fill the silence no one really wanted to break.

Lando was half-sprawled across the sofa, lazily scrolling through his phone. His leg bounced restlessly up and down, his other hand busy chewing at the edge of his thumb, a nervous habit he never quite managed to shake. You watched him from your spot across the sofa, feeling the unease bleeding off of him in waves.

Max and P had disappeared to pick up the food, leaving just you and Lando behind in the low hum of the AC in the hotel room.

You sighed, placing your phone down in your lap.

“You wanna talk about it?” you asked gently.

Lando glanced up, almost like he hadn’t realized he wasn’t alone. His leg kept bouncing, hand slowly dropping from his mouth. “Hm?” he mumbled.

“You want to talk about it?” you repeated, shifting forward so you were properly facing him. “Whatever’s been bothering you.”

He cleared his throat, mirroring your movement like it gave him something to do. “I’m good,” he said, a little too quickly.

You didn’t buy it for a second.

“You’re clearly not, Lan,” you said, frowning. “When’s the last time you had proper sleep? No offense, but... you look like shit.”

He actually chuckled at that, a low, rough sound. Five years of friendship meant he expected nothing less than brutal honesty from you.

“I’m fine, Y/N. You worry too much.”

“Because I care,” you shot back, voice softer now. “You’re too hard on yourself, you know that? You’re doing a great job—"

“—I’m not,” he interrupted sharply, voice cracking just slightly. His hands scrubbed roughly over his face. “I’m not. And I should be. Everyone expects better from me, and I can’t fucking deliver.”

The words spilled out fast, like he couldn’t hold them in any longer.

You felt your chest tighten at the way he said it, like it wasn’t frustration talking. It was something deeper. Defeat.

Quietly, closing the gap, sitting closer to him without a word. You didn’t try to tell him he was wrong. You didn’t start listing achievements or statistics he already knew by heart. Instead, you leaned your shoulder against his, solid and steady.

“You’re allowed to have bad days, Lan,” you said simply. “One race doesn’t erase who you are. What you’ve built. You’re not just... results on a page.”

He didn’t respond immediately. His leg stilled. His phone slipped from his hand onto the cushion.

For the first time all night, he let himself lean into you, just a little. Just enough. Head ever so gently resting on your shoulder

And for now, you took that as a win.

You sighed, letting your head rest lightly against his, your fingers finding his hand and tracing slow, soothing circles across the back of it. "It’s only been... what? Five races?" you said quietly. "You’ve got so much more ahead of you, Lan."

He let out a bitter laugh, low and tight in his chest. "It’s only been five, and I’ve already fucked up every single one," he muttered. "If I haven’t ruined the whole race, I’ve made at least one critical mistake every damn time."

"You’re not perfect, Lan," you said, squeezing his hand a little tighter, grounding him.

He shook his head against you, the words tumbling out faster now, rough around the edges. "Oscar’s not making mistakes like I am. And Max — everyone keeps saying he shouldn't be that fast in the Red Bull, but he is. He's that good. And me—" He broke off, swallowing hard.

"You’re not Oscar," you said firmly.

"You’re not Max... you’re not Lewis either. You’re Lando. And that’s more than enough."

You pull away slightly, shifting so you’re fully facing him, needing him to see that you mean every word. "It breaks my heart to see you like this," you say quietly, your voice thick with feeling. "Doubting yourself. Look how far you’ve come, Lan. You should be proud."

He offers a small, tired smile, nodding once. "I know..." he murmurs. "It’s just— sometimes it gets too much, you know? I knew what I was signing up for, but... that doesn’t mean the comments, the criticism, all the shit people say... it doesn’t mean it doesn’t get to me. I wish I didn't care so much about what others thought about me"

Your heart twists painfully in your chest. Without thinking, you squeeze his hand again, anchoring him. "Then you wouldn't be you anymore...and we know you’re worth more than anything they have to say," you say, shrugging like it’s the simplest truth in the world. "I want you to be world champion, Lan. I want you to chase every dream you’ve ever had. But if it means losing yourself in the process..."

You shake your head, voice turning fierce with emotion. "If it means losing the Lando I know and love? Fuck the championship."

"Yeah?" His head snaps toward you, a smirk pulling at his lips, one eyebrow raised slightly.

"You love me?"

You roll your eyes, suddenly finding your nails very interesting, anything to distract from the heat creeping up your neck. "Out of everything I just said, that’s what you choose to focus on?"

He laughs, a real one this time, soft and a little mischievous, and nudges his knee against yours. "I love you too, you muppet."

He sighs, settling back against your shoulder like it’s the only place he wants to be. "Having you here with me... it helps," he says quietly.

"I hope you know that. You make everything easier."

You smile, warmth blooming in your chest, and press a soft kiss to the top of his head before resting yours against his again. "Mind saying that again?" you tease, voice light. "Maybe once Max gets back... just so he can hear who your favourite friend really is?"

Lando laughs, and it’s music to your ears, its bright, real, almost like you could see the weight slowly lifting off his chest. "Oh, trust me," he says, nudging you. "He knows he lost to you a long time ago. He doesn’t give me butterflies in my tummy like you do."

You chuckle, a surprised laugh slipping out. "I give you butterflies?"

"Oh, shut up..." Lando muttered, letting out a soft yawn as he nuzzled closer to you, his face buried in your shoulder. "Sometimes I feel like you rile me up on purpose."

"Hey, I do not!" you protested, slapping his leg.

"Ow!" Lando dodged, laughing through the pain. "Alright, fine. Maybe it’s just my tiny crush on you talking."

You smirked, teasing him. "You have a crush on me? How old are you, ten?"

Lando shot you a playful look. "How old are you, ten?" he mocked, sticking out his tongue. "I’ve liked you for a while now, you knob."

You froze, your heart skipping a beat. What the hell? Was he serious, or was he just messing with you? You sat there, stiff and dumbfounded, unsure of what to make of it.

"You're just tired. Sleep it off," you said, trying to brush it off, though your mind was spinning.

"I’m fucking exhausted," he yawned again, his eyes already fluttering closed. "But it doesn’t make me a liar." He shifted slightly, his voice softer now.

"You can even ask Max when he comes back."

Silence.

You couldn’t think of anything to say. Your mind raced with a thousand different scenarios, trying to figure out if he was joking or if there was something real in his words. Surely, he was just messing with you, right?

"Since when?" you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

No response. Just the hum of the AC and Lando’s steady breathing. As much as you wanted to wake him up and demand answers, you knew he needed the rest more than you needed clarity.

You stayed still, afraid to disturb him. Just enough movement to pick up your phone and scroll through your feed, passing the time as you waited for Max and P.

Lando's head was now resting gently on your lap, his legs curled up in a relaxed position, peacefully asleep. Not long later, Max and P arrived, chatting softly as they entered the room.

As soon as they were both in view, you held a finger to your lips, signaling them to keep quiet. P smiled, nodding, and walked over to the kitchen to grab some utensils. Max, however, made his way over to you with the bags of food in hand.

"Finally got him to sleep, huh?" Max said with a grin.

You nodded, a soft smile tugging at your lips. "Took a while, but he's resting."

Max took the opportunity to pull his phone out of his pocket, immediately snapping photos of you and Lando.

You quickly grabbed the throw pillow beside you and tossed it at him.

He dodged it with ease, raising his hands in surrender. "He’d want photos," he said, the smirk never leaving his face.

He’d want photos? Now you were even more confused.

You cleared your throat, trying to brush off the confusion as you gathered your thoughts. "He... uh... he said something to me before he nodded off."

Max’s attention was fully on the food now as he unpacked the containers, "Yeah?"

You took a deep breath, still unsure of how to approach it. "He told me he had a crush on me..." you said with a nervous chuckle.

Max didn’t even flinch. He continued unpacking, casually licking the sauce off his finger, "Oh, you really didn’t know?"

You frowned, your confusion deepening. "What do you mean?"

Max shrugged, clearly not fazed. "I've always assumed you noticed it by now... or that P had told you a while back." He casually shrugged again, tossing the food containers onto the counter. "Thought you were just pretending you didn’t know until he actually confessed."

No fucking way. After all these years of keeping your feelings to yourself, to find out this man — the one napping on your lap right now — likes you too?

"You're fucking with me," you laugh in disbelief. "Since when?"

Max scoffs, clearly amused. "Since months after you two first met?"

"I'll help P out, I’ll grab some ice too," he adds, before heading off into the kitchen.

You stay frozen, your mind racing, still trying to process the whirlwind of emotions.

"Believe me now?"

Lando’s voice pulls you from your trance. You glance down, finding him looking up at you with sleepy, half-lidded eyes and a cheeky grin tugging at his lips.

You roll your eyes, reaching down to pinch his cheek. "You’re so annoying."

"Secrets out..." Lando chuckles, sitting up and stretching. "Gotta take you out on a proper date now."

"I’d love that, actually." You smile softly, feeling a warmth spread through you. Without thinking, you offer him the box of spring rolls.

Lando reaches for a spring roll, popping it into his mouth with a relaxed smile.

"This is good," he says, rubbing his tummy in satisfaction. "Gotta keep the butterflies fed."

1K notes · View notes

harrysfolklore · 11 months ago

Note

could you please do an insta blurb with vivian hoorn?💕

cats & dogs - mv1

summary: every couple on the grid is getting dogs which leads to max’s girlfriend wanting one. the problem? he’s a cat dad and a cat dad only

folkie radio: with al the cat dad max talk and all the dogs on the grid this blurb came naturally ! i really hope you like it 💓

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

liked by lilyhme, maxverstappen1 and 137,258 others

yourinstagram barcelona: lots of wine, baby winning but who’s surprised and the new love of my life, leo leclerc

tagged: maxverstappen1, alexandrasaintmleux

view all 2,347 comments

username1 PRETTIEST GIRL

username2 dududu max verstappen play the dutch national anthem

francisca.cgomes Prettiest 😍

↳ yourinstagram have you seen yourself in the mirror?

charles_leclerc My son ❤️

↳ yourinstagram alexandra is def a single mother bc that beauty doesn’t come from you

↳ alexandrasaintmleux Exactly 🤩

↳ username1 LOVE THEM

username3 “but who’s surprised” 😭

username4 jimmy and sassy are jealous right now

scuderiaferrari We all love Leo Leclerc ❤️

↳ redbullracing Ariana what are you doing here?

↳ username2 THAT ADMINS ARE ON CRACK HELP

danielricciardo Be ready for your girl to beg for a puppy @/maxverstappen1

↳ username2 HEEEELP

maxverstappen1 New love of my life?

↳ yourinstagram im sorry baby he has charmed me now i need a dog

↳ maxverstappen1 Jimmy and Sassy (our kids) are patiently waiting for us at home thank you

↳ username4 MAX VERSTAPPEN GET YOUR GF A DOG

liked by danielricciardo, yourinstagram and 733,625 others

maxverstappen1 Triple header done ✅ Time to rest and get ready for the last races of the season before the summer #KeepPushing

view all 6,378 comments

username1 CHAMPPPPP

username2 he’s so pretty istg

landonorris The friendship made it out of the triple header after all

↳ username2 LANDO PLASE 😭😭

danielricciardo Can you take me with you to St. Tropez?

↳ yourinstagram NO

↳ username3 yn must be tired of daniel always thirdwheeling

yourinstagram pretty boy. a champion. the goat. the world champion forever. most handsome man to grace this earth. the best to ever do it

↳ maxverstappen1 Flattery will get you nowhere

↳ yourinstagram I JUST WANT A PUPPY 😩

↳ username4 his cat person ass will never poor yn

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, maxverstappen1 and 188,254 others

yourinstagram our happy place forever 🫶 expect a very sunburnt maxie for the next gp

view all 2,511 comments

username1 they own saint tropez

username2 BOYFRIEND MAXXXXX

lilyhme stunning 😍😍

username3 IS THAT JIMMY OR SASSY IN THE LAST PIC ??? AND MAX’S SHIRT I CANT

↳ username1 cat dad forever

alex_albon Team cats rule

↳ yourinstagram don’t do this i’m trying to convince him to get me a dog

↳ danielricciardo And I don’t think that’s working

↳ yourinstagram STFU 😭😭

username4 yn is stunning can max fight ??

↳ yourinstagram he can’t

maxverstappen1 1. I can fight

2. You’re the most beautiful girl ever

3. Why would you want a dog when we have Jimmy looking that adorable

↳ yourinstagram 1. you can’t 2. ilysm 3. JUST GET ME A DOG

↳ landonorris 1. i can confirm he can’t 2. you’re disgustingly cute 3. max don’t be a bitch get her a dog

↳ yourinstagram THANK YOU LANDINHO

↳ maxverstappen1 Nope

liked by yourinstagram, charles_leclerc and 1,022,735 others

maxverstappen1 My 🤍

view all 10,635 comments

username1 AWE

username2 SIMP MAX MY HEART

redbullracing We love love ❤️

↳ yourinstagram ily too redbull admin

username3 max verstappen three time world champion uses instagram as a fanpage for his girlfriend

↳ username1 as he should

landonorris SIMP

↳ maxverstappen1 Don’t be jealous Lando

↳ yourinstagram you’ll never have him 😤

danielricciardo How’s the dog searching going?

↳ yourinstagram your bff is being such a bad boyfriend right now

↳ maxverstappen1 I’m never a bad boyfriend :(

↳ yourinstagram get me a dog and you’ll be the best boyfriend ever

↳ username2 THIS IS SO 😭😭 just get yn a dog

yourinstagram love youuuu cat dad soon to be dog dad

↳ maxverstappen1 Never

↳ yourinstagram MAXIE PLEASE 😭😭

liked by maxverstappen1, francisca.cgomes and 196,536 others

yourinstagram he could be boyfriend of the year but he refuses to get me a dog

tagged: maxverstappen1

view all 2,399 comments

username1 HEEEELP

username2 max verstappen the cat dad that you are

alex_albon 😂😂😂 Cat dads unite

username3 MAX LOOKS SO PRETTY I CANTTTT

victoriaverstappen I’m going to have a serious chat with him

↳ yourinstagram please do but bring the kids with you bc i miss them 🥲

charles_leclerc I hope Alex thinks I’m boyfriend of the year then

↳ alexandrasaintmleux Maybe 🥰

↳ yourinstagram ugh

username4 justice for jimmy and sassy

↳ yourinstagram they’re my kids and i love them i just want them to have a dog sibling

danielricciardo You boyfriend is a die hard cat person I don’t think that’s happening.

↳ yourinstagram did i ask? mind your business

↳ username1 HEEELP 😭

maxverstappen1 I could get you ten new cats if you wanted

↳ yourinstagram but i want a DOG

liked by yourinstagram, pierregasly and 1,026,337 others

maxverstappen1 Happy family

view all 10,266 comments

username1 IMMM THIS IS TOO CUTE

username2 JIMMY AND SASSYYYYY

redbullracing Cat mom and dad 💙

↳ yourinstagram redbull admin i thought you were on my side..

username3 help he said we’re NAWT getting a dog

username4 yn is literally so pretty

landonorris Just get her the puppy man…

↳ maxverstappen1 There’s no need, we’re a happy family like this

↳ yourinstagram you’re so MEAN

victoriaverstappen You won’t be boyfriend of the year like this

↳ maxverstappen1 I know I will be anyways 🥰

↳ yourinstagram don’t get to confident dude

yourinstagram jimmy and sassy are my kids and i love them but we would be an even happier family with a puppy too

↳ username1 she’s not giving up

↳ username2 max verstappen get your girlfriend a dog

↳ maxverstappen1 I don’t think so ❤️

liked by username1, username2 and 34,735 others

f1updates “Yeah, my girlfriend has serious dog fever right now. Several guys have dogs but we’ve got cats. She keeps bringing up Pierre and his girlfriend recently getting a puppy too, an it’s definitely not helping my case as a cat dad.” -Max in the press conference today 😭

view all 853 comments

username1 HELP ME

username2 he just REFUSES to get a dog

username3 he’s so annoying

username4 I LOVE CAT DAD MAX SO BAD UGH

username5 poor yn 😭

yourinstagram JUST GET ME A DOG PLEASE @/maxverstappen1

↳ username1 MAX JUST LISTEN TO YOUR WOMAN

↳ username2 cat dad forever

liked by maxverstappen1, francisca.cgomes and 197,637 others

yourinstagram airport looks, mad max and simba gasly who now has my heart 😩 my dog fever is through the roof idc

view all 2,864 comments

username1 PRETTYYYYYT

username2 broooo mad max was mad maxing this weekend

username3 JUST GET YOUR GIRL A DOG @/maxverstappen

pierregasly My kid ❤️

alexandrasaintmleux Leo is sad right now

↳ yourinstagram MY BABY LEO i miss him so much

username4 jimmy and sassy feel betrayed

landonorris Just get the damn dog @/maxverstappen1

↳ yourinstagram THANK YOU

↳ maxverstappen1 Here we go…

username5 #maxgetyourgirlfriendadog

alex_albon I’m team Jimmy and Sassy

↳ yourinstagram ffs what part of they could be siblings do y’all not understand

username6 dog talk aside, yn is soooo pretty

maxverstappen1 I thought I had your heart

↳ yourinstagram you don’t have my heart right now because you won’t get me a dog

↳ username2 GOTCHA

↳ danielricciardo 😂😂😂😂

liked by username1, username2 and 27,936 others

maxupdates Happy Max with his Cat Dad bracelet !

view all 1,386 comments

username1 AHHHH BABY

username2 CAT DAD FOREVER

username3 not when his gf wants a dog 😭

danielricciardo This is the spirit you’re trying to break @/yourinstagram

↳ username1 ARIANA WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE

↳ username2 DANIEL WTF 😭😭

↳ yourinstagram 1. why do you follow fanpages of my boyfriend? 2. HE CAN BE A CAT DAD AND A DOG DAD

↳ username3 this is good

↳ maxverstappen1 Cat dad only

↳ username4 MAX 😭😭😭😭

↳ yourinstagram MAXIE IM BEGGING

liked by username1, username2 and 43,725 others

f1updates Max Verstappen was seen outside of a dog shelter with his girlfriend today!

view all 904 comments

username1 OMFGGGGG

username2 HIS FACE I CANT 😭

username3 AHHH THEY’RE GETTING A DOG

username4 yn finally won

username5 DOG DAD MAX INCOMING

username6 he’s clearly happy about it

username7 team dog dad forever

liked by maxverstappen1, lilymhe and 202,322 comments

yourinstagram IM IN HEAVEN ❤️🥹🥹🥹

view all 4,022 comments

username1 FINALLYYYY

username2 ahhh i bet they adopted one of them i could cry

francisca.cgomes 🤍🤍🤍

username3 ARE YOU DOG PARENTS ALREADY???

↳ yourinstagram not yet but really sooooon maxie absolutely loved them 🥲

↳ username1 i knew there was a dog person deep inside of him

redbullracing We love to see it

↳ yourinstagram can christian horner be the godfather ?

↳ username1 HEEEELP

alexandrasaintmleux About time. Leo needed a pal

↳ francisca.cgomes What about Simba?

↳ yourinstagram my babies actually 🥲🥲

danielricciardo Persistence is key

maxverstappen1 The things I do for love…

↳ yourinstagram I LOVE YOU MAXIEEE

↳ username3 he’s boyfriend of the year now

liked by landonorris, yourinstagram and 1,386,257 others

maxverstappen1 I gave in. Welcome to the family, Jack Verstappen.

view all 11,863 comments

username1 OMFGGGGGGGG

username2 MAX IS A DOG DADDD I CANT

redbullracing We finally have a RedBull kid in the Paddock playground 💙

↳ scuderiaferrari Leo leclerc >>>

↳ username3 the admins are wilding 😭

francisca.cgomes Such a cutie 🥹

victoriaverstappen Finally!!

username3 why jack tho

↳ yourinstagram in honor to the club in monaco and ofc max chose the name

↳ username1 HEEEELP

↳ username2 his obsession with naming his pets after monaco clubs…

alex_albon How are Jimmy and Sassy doing? 😂

↳ maxverstappen1 My poor kids…

↳ yourinstagram THEY’RE BESTIESSSS

landonorris God finally I was done with your gf yapping

↳ yourinstagram you’re so mean to me for no reason

danielricciardo If you need another one I can bark

↳ username1 DANIEL WTF

↳ maxverstappen1 Where did this even come from

yourinstagram MY BABY 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

↳ maxverstappen1 Happy now?

↳ yourinstagram very ily

liked by maxverstappen1, alexandrasaintmleux and 221,625 others

yourinstagram BESTIES 🥰

view all 4,279 comments

username1 IM CRYING

username2 POOR JIMMY 😭

↳ yourinstagram jimmy and jack are like this 🤞

alex_albon 😂😂😂😂

victoriaverstappen The best family

francisca.cgomes Jack is so cute my heartttt

username3 Patiently waiting for the Leo x Roscoe x Simba x Jack reunion

↳ yourinstagram they should create a band. one direction who?

landonorris why do i want a dog now

↳ maxverstappen1 Don’t mate

↳ yourinstagram oh stfu maxie you spend hours cuddling jack

↳ username2 BUSTED

username4 she really masterminded her way into getting a dog

redbullracing Jimmy and Jack. Icons

↳ maxverstappen1 Don’t forget about Sassy

↳ yourinstagram my girl 🥲

maxverstappen1 My kids ❤️ plus Sassy

↳ yourinstagram THERE HE ISSSS DOG DAD

↳ maxverstappen1 Cat dad first and foremost, always

4K notes · View notes

norrisainz33 · 6 months ago

Text

Party time || ln4

☆ summary: y/n throws a end of season party party and the grid find out ln and y/n have been keeping a little secret

☆ pairing: lando norris x leclerc!reader x platonic!grid

☆ fc & warnings: slightly suggestive! you are responsible for the content you consume

☆ requested: nope! this has been in my drafts for months

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

ynleclerc has made a post

liked by charlesleclerc, scuderiaferrari, landonorris, lilymhe, oscarpiastri, arthur_leclerc, and 765,235 others

ynleclerc: waiting for everyone to get home from this triple header so we can celebrate like …..

view all 999 comments

arthur_leclerc: i’m literally sitting next to you do i mean nothing

ynleclerc: uhh yeah you’re not alex or rebecca or carmen or lily or lily or kika or leo

arthur_leclerc: blocked

charlesleclerc: wow leo gets a mention and not me?

ynleclerc: oui

alexandrasaintmleux: leo and i miss you. we’re counting down the days 🤍

charlesleclerc: mon amour 😫 don’t encourage her

ynleclerc: f off charles! that’s my girl!

user1: the leclerc’s and their beauty needs to be studied

scuderiaferrari: you are always welcome to join us y/n 🤍

ynleclerc: merci admin 😘

user2: is the sun bothering you queen 🔫

landonorris: perhaps you should just come to abu dhabi?? ever think of that!

ynleclerc: omg no never thought of that once!!!

landonorris: y/n/n

user4: is it wrong to say i ship these 2

user3: y/n really said i’m bored pay attention to me and she’s so real for that

ynleclerc has posted to their private story

view all story replies

logansargeant: who is on this private story?? need to know who is invited before i even consider showing up

ynleclerc: just abt the whole grid, my favorite girlies, kyle, patito, and bunch of my other friends - some you know !!

logansargeant: i’ll only go if kyle goes

yourbff: i can’t wait!!!!!!

ynleclerc: me either bestie i miss you

alexandrasaintmleux: i am so excited! i got the finishing touches for my outfit today 🤭

ynleclerc: yessss i can’t wait to see it!! you’re going to look stunning 🤩

alexandrasaintmleux: so are you gorgeous girl

charlesleclerc: Puis-je te convaincre de changer de tenue ? [can i convince you to change your outfit?]

ynleclerc: absolument pas [absolutely not]

charlesleclerc: mais mes collègues vont te voir et je ne peux pas les laisser avoir des idées [but my coworkers are going to see you and i can’t have them getting any ideas]

ynleclerc: tant pis pour toi 😘 [too bad for you]

landonorris: are costumes required for this party?

ynleclerc: no but wouldn’t be a problem because you’re already a clown?

landonorris: and ya know what i hate you

ynleclerc: no you do not muppet

georgerussell63: we’re all going to need this after the season 😫

ynleclerc: no doubt georgie especially bc you were stuck in that tractor

georgerussell63: 💀

iamrebeccad: carlos asked why he’s not on the invite and i said it’s because you love me more and now he’s pouting

ynleclerc: a big big baby he is

iamrebeccad: the biggest

charlesleclerc has added to their private story

view all story replies

ynleclerc: you may as well have been!!

charlesleclerc: oh so you missed me?

ynleclerc: yes i don’t want to deal with arthur alone anymore

charlesleclerc: i knew it

carlossainz55: wow she didn’t show up to greet me like this???

charlesleclerc: you know the only reason she came to pick me up is because alex and leo were involved

landonorris: where tf was my invite

charlesleclerc: don’t think i don’t know about your little crush on my baby sister

landonorris: gonna have to have a chat w carlos huh

alexandrasaintmleux: my baby girl

charlesleclerc: yes yes you love her i know

arthur_leclerc: she’s so dramatic and for what

charlesleclerc: yes but she is our sister so we must be nice

arthur_leclerc: 🤓☝🏻

iamrebeccad: my two most favorite girls

carlossainz55 has posted to his private story

view all story replies

ynleclerc: surprised you know what a grwm is

carlossainz55: i’m not that old hermana

charlesleclerc: how are you the favorite friend ?!

carlossainz55: my charm and overall superiority

charlesleclerc: 🙄

landonorris: sooooo carlos… you told charles about my thing for y/n??????????

carlossainz55: what? no i did not!

landonorris: but you’re the only one i told!!!!

carlossainz55: … i may have told rebecca and she may have told alex who may have told charles

landonorris: mate 😭😭😭

carlossainz55: i’m sorry

landonorris: do you think charles knows the full extent?

carlossainz55: rebecca doesn’t think he does

landonorris: great so i can at least keep some of my dignity 😔

alexandrasaintmleux: eeek so cute

arthur_leclerc: you forgot to actually mention that you’re on set up duty not grwm duty

ynleclerc has posted to their story

view all story replies

user2: omg it’s annual end of year party time im so sat i hope the drivers are there and get messy

user3: bisexuality is truly a beautiful thing

alexandrasaintmleux: 😫 mon amour you are stunning

ynleclerc: i love youuuu

landonorris: i’m gonna miss you when i scroll……

ynleclerc: 🤭 good thing you get to see me in real life so no need for missing me

landonorris: so true y/n/n. see you soon 😉

yourbff: i’m foaming at the mouth

patriciooward: 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

ynleclerc: so excited to see you patty

user16: god ur perfect

user22: screw your brothers, i want you

carlossainz55 has posted to his private story

view all story replies

charlesleclerc: that little gremlin better not be with my sister

carlossainz55: 💀💀💀💀

arthur_leclerc: trying the insta story means he must have really disappeared

carlossainz55: i can’t find him anywhere in this house

yourbff: i can’t find y/n/n either

carlossainz55: charles is gonna have a fit

iamrebeccad: hehhe i think i found him

carlossainz55: oh mi amor where is he?

iamrebeccad: he is with y/n

carlossainz55: where?

iamrebeccad: you can’t get mad at him

carlossainz55: it’s not me you should be worried about

iamrebeccad: they snuck out to get pizza and go to lando’s

alexandrasaintmleux: i may have kept somethings from you and charles 😔

carlossainz55: alex what do you know

alexandrasaintmleux: y/n/n and lando have been seeing each other on the down low for a couple weeks now

carlossainz55: mi amiga 😫 you better butter up charles or his head is gonna explode when he finds this out

ynleclerc has posted to their story

view all story replies

user2: Y/N THIS IS UR PUBLIC STORY

user3: screaming y/n what is this

charlesleclerc: y/n y/m/n leclerc - this is your public story. where are you both right now?

ynleclerc: OOPS!!!!!!!!

charlesleclerc: yeah oops for sure… where are you??

charlesleclerc: ma sœur stop leaving me on read

lilymhe: ARE YOU BOYH AT THE PIZZA SHOP RN HAHAAH

ynleclerc: Y E S!! i wanted pizza and lando was kind enough to take me

lilymhe: so is this like a thing now?

ynleclerc: i think so yes 🤭

lilymhe: omg you’re an evil, sinister, orange girl now 😭

ynleclerc: SCREAMING

user4: y/n it’s 3am what are you two doing rn

carmenmundt: baby what is this

ynleclerc: 😔 i tried to simp on private but messed up

carmenmundt: obsessed but also how is this how i found out??

ynleclerc: i tried to tell you at the dior show but got scared. this is all so new

carmenmundt: no need to be scared darling!! i am very good at keeping secrets but you let this cat out of the bag it seems

user7: omg are you guys together???

user8: drunken hard launch? girl i love you so much you’re my idol

user9: raw! next question

alexandrasaintmleux: hehehe tea

ynleclerc: is charles breathing still?

alexandrasaintmleux: oh don’t worry about your big brother. he’ll be fine. tell me about LANDO

ynleclerc: he is a dream alex 😭😭😭😭

ynleclerc: we made things official 🥹

alexandrasaintmleux: YESSSSSSS LETS GO ITS ABOUT TIME

user5: y/nlando truthers are UP rn

georgerussell63: laughing hysterically at this

ynleclerc: george shut up

georgerussell63: never

user6: guess your party is going well 😂😂😂

[this post has been deleted by user]

landonorris has posted to his private story

view all story replies

carlossainz55: mate why won’t you respond to your texts

landonorris: i’m sorry im sorry got a bit caught up

carlossainz55: are you having fun?

landonorris: yes 🥹 we got pizza and she admitted she liked me a lot and wanted to make things official

carlossainz55: why didn’t you tell me you two had been hanging out for a while now???

landonorris: i didn’t want to 1) jinx it or 2) put you in an uncomfortable position with charles 😭

carlossainz55: gracias for thinking of me but i’m always here for you cabron

charlesleclerc: no funny business lando or i’ll run you off the road

landonorris: wouldn’t dream of any funny business charles

lilymhe: i hope yall remember this in the morning 💀

landonorris: actually ☝🏻 we are basically sober

oscarpiastri: you stealing the host of the party to take her to get pizza then to your house is crazy work mate

landonorris: i didn’t steal her 😭

oscarpiastri: then why she not at her own party bro

landonorris: bc she wanted pizza

oscsrpiastri: yea so you stole her

landonorris: 😔

maxfewtrell: get that girl 😤

landonorris: i did mate 🤩

danielriccardo: and who is this?

landonorris: y/n leclerc

danielriccardo: a leclerc?!

landonorris: the leclerc yes

danielriccardo: good job kid

ynleclerc has made a post

liked by charlesleclerc, carmenmundt, landonorris, maxfewtrell, alexandrasaintmleux, and 644,927 others

ynleclerc: happy new year from me and mine 🥂✨

view all 888 comments

iamrebeccad: stunning 😭

user14: don’t think we don’t recognize those curls on the last slide y/n

georgerussell63: i’m still laughing btw

ynleclerc: and what if i said i hate you

georgerussell63: i’d know you were lying 😘

user23: y/n, alex, rebecca and carmen doing everything together is so important to me you don’t understand

charlesleclerc: wow i made the cut?

ynleclerc: *leo made the cut

charlesleclerc: a brother can dream huh

user45: i love how we are swiftly moving on from that story and back to our regular programming 😭

landonorris: yours you say?

ynuser: perhaps 🫣

alexandrasaintmleux: tea

user47: how am i supposed to be normal about this

user81: don’t edge us omg

landonorris has posted a story

view all story replies

charlesleclerc: please don’t post things like this with my sister

landonorris: i have to show her off charles. she’s too pretty to not be posted 🥹

charlesleclerc: you got me there but i don’t like it mate

landonorris: i’ll treat her right - i promise

oscarpiastri: i’m so glad i don’t have to hear you cry about her anymore 🧡

landonorris: you’ll still hear me crying osc dw

user4: HARD LAUNCH CITY

ynleclerc: you’re so cute im obsessed with you

landonorris: i am the luckiest man on earth

ynleclerc: lando 😭😭

user10: you calling her a gift is sickeningly cute

alexandrasaintmleux: be good to my girl ok? leo and i both will kill you if you hurt her

landonorris: i will! i promise! she is everything i have ever wanted and more and im not going to give that up any time soon

alexandrasaintmleux: music to my ears 🤍

user87: BOTH! i want you BOTH

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: thanks for reading!! likes and reblogs appreciated 🫶🏻

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

2K notes · View notes

p1astr81 · 2 months ago

Note

hey! if you haven’t done this one yet i was wondering if you could do a one shot of a bunch of different moments where oscar mentions his girlfriend in interviews or videos etc :)

The fan zone was a sea of papaya, fat heads of Oscar’s and Lando’s faces stuck in the air.

“You’ve got a week off after this triple header, how do you boys plan on spending it?” Laura asked.

Lando answered first. “Eh, probably just stay at home, play some games. You know, just chillax.” He finished, his gaze turning to Oscar to hear his response.

“Probably a lot of the same.” He started. “Have a cheat meal, maybe. Spend some time with my girlfriend.”

The crowd broke in to cheers at that.

He was a guest on a podcast this time.

“You have a girlfriend, don’t you?” One of them asked.

He smiled and nodded.

“If you don’t mind me asking, how did you two meet? Because I know you left Australia when you were young, but she’s Australian, isn’t she?”

His smile brightened. “Yeah, she is. We met when we were—well, we first met when we were five, I think it was. She went to my primary school with me.”

“So you’ve known each other awhile then?”

“Yeah, I’d say. Nearly twenty years which is crazy to think about. But we weren’t, like, the closest of friends in school, but then my mom and her mom became friends after I left for Australia.”

“So when did you guys start dating?”

He hummed, thinking. “I want to say we were fourteen when I first asked her out.”

“Fourteen?! So you’ve been dating ten years now?”

“Uh, not quite. I asked her out in December of that year, because I was home from racing for the holidays, and we went to her family’s house for a small party.”

“Wow, nearly ten years. And you haven’t proposed to her yet?”

Oscar laughed at that. “No, not yet. We got together super young, which is why it seems so long, but…” I’m planning on doing it soon, the confession was on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he muttered a, “yeah.”

Martin Brundle caught him on the grid. “This isn’t regular talk for a grid walk, but it’s my understanding that you’re recently engaged?”

He blushed a dark shade of red. “Yup.” He answered simply, smiling brightly.

“So it’s a win today then as an engagement present?” Martin joked.

He laughed. “Uh, hopefully. We’ll see what we can do. We’re quick so that’s a big help. But if not, I hope the trip to Italy was enough to suffice.”

One championship, and a wedding later, the season had started again. “Oscar! Happy to be here racing at home?”

“Yeah. I love the fans, and a lot of my family can be here to support me too, which is nice.” He nodded, smiling.

“Speaking of family, I saw yours expanded over the break, congratulations.”

Stupidly, Lando pipped up. “Wait, you had a kid?” He hit Oscar on the arm.

That got a laugh out of him, his head dropping along with the microphone. “No. I got married, and thank you, Laura.”

“Oh, right, right.” Lando muttered.

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #f1 blurb #f1 fluff #op81 #f1 x you #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x fem!reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri blurb #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri one shot #oscar piastri

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no-144444 · 8 months ago

Text

the grid: time for a hot lap!

Day 22 of fic-tober! fic-tober masterlist

Featuring: Oscar Piastri, Lando Norris, Lewis Hamilton, George Russell, Alex Albon, Daniel Riccardo, Charles LeClerc, Max Verstappen

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

Oscar Piastri:

When Oscar told you that Mclaren wanted you to do a hot lap with him at the Austin GP, you were pretty shocked. Both you and Oscar were pretty against putting your entire relationship on blast, and you were usually too busy with your own job to make it to the GP’s, but you’d promised you’d do the triple header with him this time.

“It’ll be fun,” he smiled, rubbing your back as you both lay in bed together. “I promise I won’t go too fast.”

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t care about the ‘going fast’ part. I care about the questions they’ll make me ask you.”

He chuckled. “It’ll be alright, I’ll ask them to not make it too inappropriate.”

You sighed, knowing he really wanted you to do this. “Let’s do it.”

“Thank you baby,” he pressed a kiss to your cheek and finally, you both got up for the day.

⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

The Texas sun was setting over the Circuit of the Americas, casting a golden glow on the iconic track. You sat in the car, Oscar revving it up as your heart dropped when you looked at the first question. “Holy shit Osc,” you mumbled, flipping through all of the cue cards.

“What?” he asked, looking over.

“These are all from, like, a horny question game!” you whispered. He immediately started laughing as he flipped through the cards, each one getting more ridiculous.

“What are these? ‘Kiss me for 5 whole minutes’? What is this shit?” He laughed.

“That’s one of the more tame ones,” you whispered.

“This one is the worst,” he chuckled, showing you a card that says ‘Do you have any fetishes I don't know about?’ and you both bursted out laughing.

“What do we do?” You asked, not knowing if you were meant to actually ask such personal questions.

“Throw them out the window,” he instructed with a cheeky smile.

You rolled your eyes. “Oscar, we can’t do that-!”

He grabbed them out of your hand and threw them out his window, then started speeding down the main straight.

Oops.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

Lando Norris:

“It’ll be funny!” You begged. “Come on, I promise I won’t scream- that much.”

He rolled his eyes. “You barely let me drive anyways, what’s different about this, huh?”

“That’s so not true! I let you drive when I’m drunk.”

“Exactly!” He giggled.

“Please Lan, let’s just do it, I promise it’ll be fun,” you poured, and he knew he had no defence now.

“Fine,” he sighed. “But you owe me something in return,” he lifted an eyebrow and you chuckled.

“You’re such a child,” you teased before placing your lips on his.

⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

He was pleasantly surprised at how much you enjoyed it. He sped along the circuit, and every time it came to the last corner, he obliged your begs to his again until you eventually did 6 whole laps going top speed. As you both got out of the car, while you spoke animatedly to the camera, he stood shyly behind you. As you two walked off ‘set’ (the pitlane) you turned to him.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, taking his hand. “You alright? I didn’t push you too hard, did I?”

He chuckled, blushing. “It’s not that,” he mumbled and you understood.

“That made you hard!?” You asked, shocked.

“Shut up!” He whined. “I have a hot girlfriend, sue me!”

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

Lewis Hamilton:

It wasn’t the first time Lewis had asked you to do a hot lap with him, and you were sure it wouldn’t be the last. You had agreed, of course, and this would be the first time it was filmed for the general public's viewing pleasure.

“Ready?” he asked, turning the car on.

“Ready,” you nodded. As you two sped off, you looked down at the questions. “Alright, Bono or Toto for a night out?”

“Easy, Bono and Toto, both of them are great fun,” he smirked.

“What’s the best advice you’ve gotten about love?”

“When my dad told me to marry you,” he answered, not really thinking as he almost sent the two of you into a gravel trap.

“Fucking hell Lewis, at least pretend to still be good at your job,” you scolded as he laughed. “If you weren’t an F1 driver what would you be?”

“Probably a stay-at-home dad,” he shrugged.

“What superpower would you want?”

“Teleportation.”

“Who do you miss more when you’re away, me, or Roscoe?”

“Oh shit, that’s hard,” he smirked, thinking. As you two weaved around the final corner, you had no reaction, even when he drifted you barely batted an eye. It was impressive to say the least. “You, obviously.”

Actually, you hadn’t had a reaction to any of the driving, no gasps or sighs, no grabbing the safety handle, nothing.

As you two pulled back into the pit lane he looked over at you with a smirk. “Seriously? No reaction?”

You shrugged. “It’s not that thrilling.”

He shook his head with a smirk. “You are something else baby.”

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George Russell:

“You alright?” He asked and you shook your head.

“I would not have agreed to come out of the garage if it means that this shit is happening,” you gritted out.

He just laughed and pressed a kiss to your hand. “You’ll be fine, don’t worry, you’re in good hands.”

“Babe- BABE!” you screamed as he shot off down the main straight and began the hot lap. “FUCK!”

George just laughed as he weaved through the corners, you screaming the whole time.

“Ask me the questions!” he instructed.

“FUCK! LIFT GEORGE, FUCKING LIFT!” you screamed. There was a certain hilarity to your relationship, especially considering that you were his lead engineer. “THIS IS ALWAYS YOUR PROBLEM!”

“Ask the questions!” he laughed.

“FUCK- a-alright, Lando or Alex- GEORGE PICK A FUCKING BREAKING ZONE!”

He was laughing too hard to answer for a moment, but he composed himself as you gasped at every twist and turn. “Albono and I probably see each other more,” he chuckled.

“Alright, next questi- GEORGE LIFT!”

“I know what I’m doing!” he shouted back, laughing. Just then, he iver shot it and brought you both straight into a gravel trap, stuck there.

“You ‘know what you're doing’, do you?” you scoffed. “I am never doing this shit again, I sit in the garage for a reason-”

He leaned over and kissed you, a bright smile on his face.

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Alex Albon:

As a sky presenter, you’d been forced to do many strange things. For example, try and give Jenson Button a piggy back for 3 hours (you’d lasted about 40 minutes, which was pretty good), try to reconcile Brocedes (it kind of worked?), made many fans days, and had a great impact on the sport.

“So you want me to do a hot lap with Alex?” you questioned Ted. He nodded.

One thing you didn’t talk about often was the fact that in your 2 years at SkyF1, you’d started dating one of the F1 driver’s, Alex Albon. Neither of you were particularly keen on telling the public, because it just never felt like the right time.

“Alright,” You shrugged. “I’ll do it.”

That’s how you ended up in the strangest position yet, driving your F1 boyfriend around the COTA track in a Ferrari.

“So Alex, any advice for me?” you asked, turning to him.

“There’s no grip, don’t try to drift,” he chuckled. Honestly, he was enjoying this. He had taught you some of his drifting tactics and such, and he was really enjoying shooting with you. SkyF1 usually kept you two separate out of fear that you’d expose your relationship, so despite you being there every weekend, he rarely saw you during the day.

“Got it,” you nodded, speeding down the main straight. Immediately, he started barking orders at you of when to lift and when to not, and he was screaming and gasping at every corner, while you just laughed. Honestly, you loved driving as fast as you could with no repercussions.

As you finally slowed down to the end of the hot lap, he finally started breathing again and sighed. “I’m dating a lunatic!”

You just laughed at him as he stood up from the car, legs shaking.

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Daniel Riccardo:

You were terrified of what Daniel would do when he was given the chance to drive a very fast car, very fast, with no repercussions, and you as his passenger.

“Not too fast, yeah? I already know you’re a great driver,” you smiled, trying to make him slow down.

He just smirked. “Baby, y’know I’m a racecar driver, right?”

You grimaced. He accelerated. You screamed.

“Isn’t this fun?!” he asked, doing doughnuts on the track.

“FUCK NO!” you screamed. “Daniel slow down! Slow down!”

“Nothing is making me slow down now-”

“I’M PREGNANT!” You shouted.

He brought the car to a startling halt and turned to you with wide eyes.

You took out your phone, ready with a photo of the positive pregnancy test. He gasped.

“I’m going to be a dad?” he asked, eyes clouding with tears.

You nodded.

He pressed his lips to yours quickly, stealing a kiss, then another.

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Charles LeClerc:

“Mon coeur, please! It will be fun,” he begged.

“No, no way,” you chuckled, trying desperately to get away from him in the Ferrari garage.

“Rebecca is doing it with Carlos,” he told you.

“So she doesn’t value her life? Ok, that’s fine with me,” you argued.

“Please my love,” he asked, taking your hands. “One lap, I’ll slow down, I promise.”

You stared at him for a second. “One lap?”

“One lap,” he nodded.

“And you’ll be gentle?”

“So gentle,” he nodded.

“Fine.”

⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

He was not gentle, nor was it one lap. He ended up taking you around 3 times, while you basically begged him to stop or slow down.

When you both got out, you immediately ran to his driver’s room and tried to calm down, while he was interviewed.

“Is she alright?” Ted asked.

Charles smiled. “She’s not a big fan of stuff like this, so probably not,” he chuckled. “I might be sleeping in the guest room tonight.”

Ted chuckled. “Well, we understand why, you did drift the entire circuit 3 times and you almost went off 4 times.”

Charles sighed. “Thank you Ted.”

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Max Verstappen:

You’d sat in the passenger seat of his valkyrie aston martin a hundred times before, what would be so different about this?

A lot.

As Max drove and you screamed, he put his hand on your lap trying to calm you down.

“MAX! BOTH HANDS ON THE WHEEL!” you screamed as he chuckled. “YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE A GOOD DRIVER!”

“I am a good driver!” he shouted back, over the sound of the engine.

“Evidently not!” You screamed as he went straight over a curb.

“Do you want to see bad driving?” He smirked.

“No! No! That’s ok, just- MAX!” You screamed as he immediately sped up and started to drive even more recklessly.

“FUCKING HELL MAX!” you screamed. “I’LL DIVORCE YOU!”

He just laughed.

What a way to announce your marriage, right?

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