loricciardo

[loricciardo]

CHAPTER TWO | TOO SWEET

tags. original female character, jos verstappen, depictions of physical and verbal abuse in reference to max & jos, mild references to childhood loneliness and emotional isolation, mentions of of pressure and high expectations in youth sports, neglectful parenting.

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The next day, Max won the race. And Natalie tried not to be too disappointed about it.

Third place was still good, even if it wasn’t like the result she had yesterday. Natalie had gotten a decent start, stayed clean into the first corner, and fought like hell to keep up, but Max was just… faster. He flew out of corners like he was superman, and the kart was an extension to him. He didn’t fight the tires, they just listened to him.

Natalie’s didn’t. Hers slid and squealed and snapped through every tight chicane, almost sending her kart flying sideways.

Still, she smiled as she pulled off her helmet. Michael ruffled her sweaty hair as soon as she stepped into organization’s tent.

“You drove well,” he smiled simply.

And that was enough for her, even if she hadn’t necessarily won. Even if Mick had beaten her, too, finishing second and already grinning, acting like he already won the entire karting championship.

Her papa never ever measured her by which trophy she held. He looked at how she fought, how she learned, how she tried. He said that made someone a real driver.

But still… Natalie glanced over her shoulder, expecting to see the scary man smiling and hugging Max after his win. But.. he wasn’t. He still looked furious.

She didn’t know why, and truthfully, she didn’t want to. Maybe she was still too shy from yesterday’s hotdog. Or maybe it was just the way that scary man, who she learned was Max’s father, hovered nearby, arms crossed, barking in Dutch at no one in particular. Max stood silently beside his kart, eyes on the ground, while the man paced and shouted like he was running the military.

Natalie’s brows pulled together. She didn’t get it at all. When she won yesterday, her papa picked her up off the ground. Told her he was proud. Ruffled her hair and lovingly kissed the top of her head.

Wasn’t that what winning was supposed to feel like? Wasn’t winning supposed to be celebrated?

Natalie was pulled out of her thoughts when her papa gently touched her back, nodding toward the podium marshal. “Come on Nat,” he winked. “You still earned a podium.”

At the podium, Max stood stiffly with his trophy while Mick gleefully sprayed pretend champagne at anyone within range. Then came the slow shuffle back toward the motorhomes, shoes scuffing against the gravel, the lively thrill already fading into dusk.

Natalie hung in the back on purpose.

She looked ahead and saw the scary man walking in front of Max, holding Max’s trophy like it was his. Max followed in silence, hands empty, head down. She felt her stomach twist again. She thought about saying something. But what exactly would she say? She didn’t even know if Max remembered her name.

So she just walked quietly alongside Mick, who was still chattering about his overtake on lap nine. But her eyes kept drifting, just slightly, to the small boy walking alone behind his father.

It was later, when most of the motorhomes were winding down for the evening, that she found herself outside again. Her socks half-damp from the grass, arms folded tightly over her oversized hoodie she had stolen from her papa.

Max was crouched near the edge of the lot again, fiddling with a stick and drawing shapes in the dirt.

She hesitated, but her papa always said to go where her gut told her on the track. Maybe it worked off the track, too. Therefore, she stepped closer.

Max didn’t flinch when he saw her this time. He just looked up from the dirt, squinting slightly.

“Hi,” she said, and Max curtly nodded once. “Sorry you didn’t get to keep your trophy,” she added with a grimace.

Max looked at the ground again. “He always keeps them.”

Natalie didn’t know what to say to that, so she sat down beside him again, legs folded under her, letting the silence stretch between them. That was, until she got a million dollar idea.

“Come with me,” Natalie smiled, brushing the damp grass off her shorts as she stood up. She glanced at Max, who looked hesitant. He wasn’t quite sure she had honestly been talking to him, but there was the faintest flicker of trust crossed his face when she waved him forward.

Max stood slowly and followed Natalie, his steps careful and quiet. They walked side by side through the maze of motorhomes and trailers, past tangled cables and scattered karting gear, until they reached Natalie’s own little home on wheels. The faded red trim on the trailer caught the ray of the dimly lit street lamp, and a hand painted Ferrari sticker, peeling at the edges, clung to the door.

A battered wooden bench rested beside the trailer, its legs sinking unevenly into the dirt. Natalie pointed to it. “You.. can sit. I will go get something.”

Max, without a word, eased himself onto the bench, folding his hands nervously in his lap. He itched his buzzed blonde hair, fingers lingering at the back of his neck like he wasn’t sure what to do with them. His shoulders were tense, hunched slightly. His blue eyes kept glancing toward the Verstappen motorhome every few seconds, like he was waiting for someone to call him back, or worse, catch him here.

Inside the trailer, the air was cool and smelled faintly of motor oil and worn leather. Her father was resting, headphones on, a karting manual open but forgotten on the table. She moved as quietly as she could, careful not to disturb him. Michael’s soft breathing was the only sound as she rummaged in a drawer until her fingers found the worn rubber band around a deck of playing cards, edges dog eared and bent from travel.

She clutched the deck and slipped back outside, trying not to trip on the steps. Max was still sitting where she left him, hands clasped tight in his lap.

She dropped down opposite him on the bench and spread the cards between them.

“Do you know how to play Go Fish?” she asked carefully, enunciating the words as best she could.

Max tilted his head. “Fish? Like… swimming?” He made a flicking motion with his hand, his mouth quirking into a shy grin.

Natalie chuckled. “No, no. Not water fish. Cards fish,” she pulled two matching cards from the deck and held them up.

“You look for the same,” she said simply.

“Ah,” Max nodded slowly. “Same cards.”

She dealt them each seven cards, the worn deck shuffling unevenly in her hands.

“You ask,” Natalie mused, tapping her chin thoughtfully, “’Do you have… five?’” Holding up the five of hearts.

Max looked at his cards, then at her. “Do you have… five?” His words came out slow, but clear.

“Yes! Very good!” She smiled wide, passing him the card.

Max’s grin grew a little, small but real, and he slipped the card into his hand.

They played like that for a while. Slowly, awkwardly, laughing at their mistakes. Natalie mixed English and German, Max added quiet bits of Dutch. They stumbled over numbers and words, but remarkably, the game unfolded smoothly, each card a small bridge between two worlds. Dutch, Natalie noticed, wasn’t so far from German after all! Some of the words sounded familiar. Echoes from home just spoken in a different rhythm. She understood just enough to keep up, and Max understood just enough to grin when she teased him for losing.

“Do you have… seven?” Max asked after a few turns, holding up his cards like a shield.

“No seven,” Natalie groaned. “Go fish, boy.”

He drew a card and his face lit up. “Lucky!”

“Very lucky,” Natalie giggled back, holding her hand out for him to shake. “Good game.”

Max stared at her hand for a long moment, then shook it with a quiet grin. “Good game,” he said again.

For the first time since arriving at the track, Natalie felt something that didn’t come from her father’s proud smile or Mick’s playful teasing. Max was different from those two. She hugged her knees tighter, watching the boy shuffle the cards slowly, his blue eyes fixed on the worn deck. She was used to being supported, having people in her corner. But it was rare to sit with someone her age who didn’t already know her, who wasn’t her brother or one of his friends. Someone who didn’t treat her like a Schumacher, just… Natalie.

After a pause, she spoke softly, “Your papa… he is… mad with you?”

Max’s hands stilled on the cards. He glanced up, startled by the question, then quickly looked away, eyes narrowing. “Why do you ask?”

Natalie bit her lip, hesitating. “I see him. At the track. He shouts at you.” Natalie looked down at her scuffed shoes.

Max sighed, leaning back against the bench and dropping the cards on his lap. “Yeah..,” he admitted quietly. “He shouts a lot.”

Natalie’s brow furrowed in confusion. “But my papa never yells at me like that. He says I am strong, no matter what. He tells me he is proud.”

Max looked at her, surprise flickering in his eyes. “Your papa… he doesn’t get mad?”

“No,” she replied quickly. “Even when I make mistakes, he smiles. He says I am learning. That I will be better next time.”

Max’s lips pressed together, and for a moment he stared at the ground. “That’s… nice.”

Natalie nodded slowly, her green eyes thoughtful. “Why does your papa yell then? Does he not love you?”

Max shrugged, picking at a splinter in the wood. “He loves me. But… he thinks love is making me better by pushing me harder. If I don’t win… he’s angry. Says I need to be perfect.”

Natalie looked down. “My papa says I don’t have to be perfect to be loved. That being myself is enough.”

Max gave a small, bitter laugh. “It… I… Sometimes, I think he cares more about winning than about me.”

Natalie reached out tentatively, placing her hand lightly on his arm. “That… doesn’t sound like love. To me, at least.”

Max looked at her, surprised. Silence stretched between them.

Then he asked quietly, “Your papa… you are sure he is proud of you?”

Natalie shrugged, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Yes. Always. Even when I’m not the fastest or the best. He says I make him proud just by trying.”

Max frowned, looking almost jealous. “That sounds like a really good papa.”

Before she could say more, a sharp voice cut through the quiet.

“Max!”

They both jumped, startled like dogs caught sneaking food off the dinner table. Jos Verstappen stood just a few feet away, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, shoulders tense beneath the weight of barely contained fury. His stance was sharp. Rooted, unmovable, like a warning sign in human form. The late night light cut across his face, casting half of it in shadow and making the glare in his eyes burn even colder.

Max’s smile disappeared. He stood up quickly, knocking over the cards from his lap.

Jos stormed over, speaking quickly in Dutch, his tone harsh and commanding.

Natalie caught only a few words. And Schumacher was one among them. She felt her heart tighten, the sound of her last name spat like an insult. The rest of the sentence blurred past her, sharp consonants and vowels tumbling too fast for her to understand, but the intention was clear. Jos’ voice was like gravel; low, cold, hurtful.

She wasn’t used to that kind of anger. Not ever directed at her, especially from a parent of a teammate.

Her papa never raised his voice like that. He didn’t get in her face or bark orders like she was something that needed fixing. So she stood there frozen, unsure what she’d done to make this scary man look at her like that.

Natalie didn’t speak. She couldn’t. Her lips parted, but no sound came out. Just the sound of Max shifting nervously beside her, his shoulders curling inward, trying to shrink himself small enough to disappear.

Jos switched to English, his voice cutting through the quiet like a snapped branch.

“You,” he spat, jabbing a finger in Natalie’s direction. “Don’t you ever talk to my son again.”

Natalie blinked, startled. “What?” she asked, the word slipping out before she could stop it.

Jos didn’t look confused, but rather he looked furious. Cold and sure of himself in that terrifying, know it all, grown-up way that made Natalie feel suddenly very small.

“You heard me,” Jos deadpanned. “I don’t want you near him.”

Max had gone still beside the bench, shoulders tensed, eyes flicking between his father and Natalie like he didn’t know what to do. But only that he couldn’t do anything.

Natalie stood up slowly, the bench creaking behind her, and instinctively took a step back from Jos. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest, fingers curling into the fabric of her sleeves.

“I’m so sorry sir,” she spoke quietly, voice small but steady. “We were just playing.”

Jos scoffed like the idea was laughable. “You think this is a game?” he snapped. “You race against my son. You don’t get to be ‘just playing’ with him.”

Natalie blinked again, confused. “But.. why does that matter?”

Jos leaned in closer, and even though she held her ground, every part of her wanted to run. “Because your name is a problem,” he frowned. “Your father is soft. He tells the press how proud he is of you when you lose. You really think that teaches anything? You’re a pathetic girl in this sport, paraded around like she’s earned it. When it’s just your name doing all the heavy lifting.” His voice was sharper now, slicing through the young girl like ice. “And I will not have Max around that.”

The words landed like stones in her chest. She didn’t understand all of what Jos had meant, but the cruelty in his voice was clear.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Max shift his weight like he might speak, but he didn’t. He didn’t even lift his head.

“You’re not to speak to him again,” Jos informed, straightening. “Not at the track. And especially not afterwards. Nowhere.” His gaze swept to Max. “You. Let’s go.”

Max didn’t move right away. Then, without a word, he turned with his shoulders still hunched. He followed after his father, eyes fixed on the gravel.

He did not give Natalie a goodbye. No backward glance. Absolutely fucking nothing.

Natalie stood in the silence they left behind, the sound of the wind gently rattling through the trees and tents. The cards that had been in Max’s lap were now scattered across the grass, some of them face down in the dirt, others turned upward like they were still waiting for the next move. One fluttered a few inches farther with the breeze, then settled near her feet, its edges bent.

Natalie’s hands were clenched at her sides, jaw tight, but she didn’t understand why. She’d done nothing wrong, in fact, she was only but kind to Max. And honestly, the only one who was kind to Max.

The other kids at the karting track whispered behind his back sneered when Max passed by, calling him weird, quiet, even scary. They kept their distance, wary of the boy who rarely spoke and whose sharp blue eyes seemed to look right through them. But Natalie saw something different. She saw someone who needed a friend. Someone who deserved better. Yet now, standing alone as they walked away, she wondered if her kindness was worth what had just happened.

She didn’t know what to call what Max’s father had said. But she knew, deep down, that it wasn’t love.

And for the first time, something bitter and unfamiliar bloomed in her chest. Not because she had been yelled at by Jos, but for the little boy who hadn’t even looked back.

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[loricciardo]

CHAPTER ONE | SO THIS IS HOW IT STARTS?

tags. original female character, jos verstappen, depictions of physical and verbal abuse in reference to max & jos, mild references to childhood loneliness and emotional isolation, mentions of of pressure and high expectations in youth sports, neglectful parenting.

taglist. want to join or be removed from my taglist? send me an ask or comment below!

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The first time Natalie Schumacher met Max Verstappen, she was seven years old.

They were in Wackersdorf for the weekend. It was another karting event, another lineup of engines echoing across the tarmac and the familiar scent of petrol clinging to everything. Natalie already had grease under her nails and a smear of oil on her cheek from helping Mick zip up his suit too fast.

In the beginning, her mama had been hesitant about letting her race. Not because she didn’t believe Natalie could do it but she’d seen too much of what the sport could take. The injuries, the pressure, the loneliness that sometimes came with living life on a pedestal. “One Schumacher on the track is enough,” she’d said once, half joking. But Natalie wanted it too badly. She wanted to follow in her papa’s footsteps, to chase what her big brother Mick chased. It wasn’t expected of her but it called to her. And eventually, her mama stopped protesting. Not because the fear went away, but because she saw how Natalie lit up every time she got behind the wheel.

But what mattered the most, arguably, was that their father was here. Not just in the “he brought us and paid our entry fees” way, but really here. Michael Schumacher had been away a lot that year, just like every year, swallowed up by Ferrari duties and sponsor meetings. Luckily, it was his last year as a driver. And this weekend, he had cleared everything just to watch them race.

Natalie knew that because she’d asked him twice.

Now, sitting criss-crossed on a folding chair next to their kart, she picked at the velcro strap on her glove while Mick paced the tent with quiet nerves. He always got like that before the race started. His mind would buzz in circles. Natalie liked to think it was because he wanted to win, but deep down, she suspected it was because he didn’t want to disappoint their dad.

“Meinst du ich sollte in Turn 5 später bremsen?” Mick asked suddenly. (Do you think I should brake later in Turn 5?)

Natalie shrugged. “Sie haben dort das letzte Mal abgeschlossen.” (You locked up there last time.)

“Ich habe fast abgeschlossen.” (I almost locked up.)

She raised a brow. “Okay… Du wärst fast ins Schleudern gekommen.” (Okay… You almost spun into the gravel.)

That earned a look from Michael, who was crouched by Natalie’s rear tires, double checking the pressure gauge like it hadn’t already been done by five other track mechanics. “You two, be nice,” he scolded in English, without turning around. “You’re both here to learn. No one’s perfect.”

Natalie held back rolling her eyes at him. Papa always said that. No one’s perfect. Even though, to her, he was.

Mick frowned but nodded slowly. Natalie leaned back in her chair and watched the other kids trickle into the circuit. Some in karts, some dragging helmets behind them like they were too heavy to carry. Regardless, all the boys looked older, taller. More serious.

She didn’t feel out of place, despite being the only girl. At least, not in the way people expected her to. Natalie didn’t flinch when boys stared too long or made snide comments under their breath. She was used to it by now. The double takes, the raised eyebrows, the occasional series organizer asking her if she was in the wrong tent. None of it mattered once the kart turned on. Out there, she wasn’t someone’s sister or someone’s daughter or that girl who thinks she can race. She was just a racing driver. And that was all she needed to be.

Michael stood up, brushing his hands off on a rag, and turned to look at them both. “Remember,” he smiled gently, “you don’t have to win. Just drive your best. That’s enough for me.”

Natalie tried not to smile too hard. She hated when Mick called her soft. He always did it in that annoying older brother way that meant he did care, but didn’t quite know how to say it. Mick always got weird when their papa said things like that. Like he didn’t know how to hold onto praise taking it to heart. Natalie understood that a little.

Natalie Schumacher did not expect to win that race.

She knew she was fast but this track was always brutal to her used tires. Papa always insisted that he put them on her and Mick’s karts. He said it was to teach them how to adapt. To feel the loss of grip, to wrestle with unpredictability. “You have to learn how to win with worse equipment,” he told them, tightening a lug nut with calloused hands. “I didn’t grow up with the best parts. I would fish them out the bin. If you can drive well on these, you’ll fly on brand new ones.”

And of course, the name Max Verstappen had was being whispered all weekend. Her papa had warned her about him, too. “He’s aggressive,” he’d told her, kneeling beside Natalie’s kart that morning. “Clever as well. You’ll have to be smarter, not just quicker.”

And the Max boy was quick. He took different lines than she did. They were wider, riskier ones. He would break late, causing her to almost fly off track. In practice, he had flown past her twice. It had made Natalie’s jaw clench, made her papa sigh, and made her stomach twist in that sickening way it always did when she felt like she was falling short.

But that wasn’t the case for today.

Today, she drove that kart with fire in her veins and dirt under her tiny fingernails. She fought for her spot every turn, and when the chequered flag dropped, she crossed the line first. Barely, in front of the Max boy, but she did.

Again: Natalie Schumacher had just won her first karting race.

She couldn’t stop smiling as she slowly climbed onto the taller podium, her blonde hair a mess beneath her winners cap, her race suit dusted with mud. The cheers of the small crowd were loud, and the sun caught the edge of the little gold trophy in her hands, making it glint like something bigger than it was.

But something felt off.

Max, the boy who was supposed to be standing beside her, wasn’t there.

His name was still printed neatly on the silver trophy that lay on the second place pedestal, waiting for his little boots to fill the space. But he never came. The officials called for him once, maybe twice, before giving up and continuing with the ceremony. Natalie frowned, scanning the crowd, trying to spot that unmistakable bright orange and white helmet or the sharp blue eyes beneath the weight of his little scowl.

Natalie didn’t see Max near the tents. Instead, her eyes caught movement far behind the motorhomes barely visible beyond the chain link fence.

Ah! There he was!

Max stood stiff and still, his face bright red, head cast toward the ground. A tall man hovered over him, speaking rapidly in some foreign language. The language wasn’t German. Not French either. Natalie’s young self couldn’t place it, but the meaning didn’t need translating. The scary man’s hand was clenched tight around Max’s shoulder, shaking the boy once, sharply, before releasing. Max didn’t flinch, but even from this distance, Natalie could feel something sour twist in her chest.

The scary man wasn’t just angry. He looked furious. She wanted to march over there and tell the scary man how hard Max fought her for first. And honestly, the thought made Natalie wish she had gotten second. She didn’t understand the words, but she didn’t need to.

Natalie had never seen a parent look at their child that way before. Her papa never raised his voice like that. Even when she messed up, or rather, especially when she messed up. His voice stayed calm, steady. We’ll work on it, he’d say. You’re getting there.

Before she could watch any longer, a sudden POP! beside her made her flinch.

“Hah!” a young boy’s voice chirped, high and teasing.

Small but mighty, there was Charles Leclerc, triumphant in third place, grinned as he sprayed her with cheap pretend champagne, half of which missed and splattered onto her race boots. Natalie squealed, laughing despite herself, raising the little bottle in defense and catching him in the chest.

And just like that, Max and the scary man disappeared. Natalie Schumacher felt like a real race car driver.

Natalie sat on the steps of the Schumacher motorhome, her tiny race suit rolled down to her waist, the arms tied in a loose knot around her hips. Her hair was still messy from the fake champagne, and her cheeks were warm from the evening German sun. Across from her, their papa crouched low over the little fire pit he’d built out of bricks and gravel, carefully turning the sausages he’d set on a metal grate.

“Paaaaa! Don’t poke them so much,” Mick spoke from behind him, nose wrinkled. “They’ll split.”

“They won’t split,” Michael replied, amused as he looked at his son. “They’re fine. Do you want yours burnt, or not burnt?”

“… Not burnt.”

Michael grinned. “Then stop giving advice and let the sausage master work.”

The fire hissed, and the smell of charring meat mixed with the nearby scent of gasoline and fresh cut grass. Someone else at the campground was cooking too. It was something buttery and smoky, yum. And with the sun slowly setting, it was finally starting to cool off. Natalie was realizing that this was her favorite smell in the whole world: grease, petrol, and campfire.

She was still holding her little gold trophy in one hand. She hadn’t put it down yet, not really out of pride. Well, yes, she was proud, but, because the weight of it in her hand reminded her that it had actually happened.

Natalie leaned her head against the edge of the doorframe, eyes scanning lazily across the lot. Until a sharp slam cut through the quiet.

Her gaze snapped to the source of the noise. It was Max. And that scary man from before.

They stood a few motorhomes down, under the weak yellow glow of a lamp post. It was the second time that weekend she’d seen that man yell at him like that.

It was happening again. Worse, maybe. The man was louder this time, more animated. His hands sliced through the air like he was trying to cut something that wouldn’t go away. Max stood perfectly still, staring up at him with this blank sort of expression. He’d learned a long time ago that it was better not to respond. His face was red from holding his tears all in.

She didn’t know what the scary man was saying, but it was clearly bad. He looked very mean. He was the kind of grown up that made your stomach knot just from being in the same space.

The man turned to walk away, then spun back around suddenly and shouted again, louder this time. Max flinched, just barely, but didn’t move otherwise.

When the man finally stormed off for good, Max stayed behind. He just sat right there in the grass beside his motorhome, legs pulled up, elbows resting on his knees. His hands moved automatically, picking at the dirt and stray blades of grass. It was something to do, something to focus on instead of whatever had just happened.

Natalie’s cautious, curious eyes stayed on him longer than she meant to.

“Dinner’s ready,” Papa smiled gently beside her, handing her a bun with a sausage tucked neatly inside, wrapped in kitchen roll.

“Danke,” she murmured, taking it with both hands. But instead of taking a bite, she stared down at it.

Then she glanced sideways at Max again. Still sitting there, still quiet, still alone. She shifted on her feet. Thought for a second. Then looked up at her papa.

“Papa?” she asked, softly. “Do you.. think I could give one to him?”

Michael looked up again, this time following her gaze. He saw little Max Verstappen, alone in the grass, and his expression changed slightly. His brow creased, just a little. He took a breath, slow and steady.

Michael, of couse, had raced against Jos Verstappen. He remembered him well. Not for his skill, which was average at his prime, but for his temper. The way Jos shoved mechanics in the garage. The way he barked orders at engineers like they were below him. He remembered the way Jos had spoken to people when he thought no one important was listening.

And everyone had heard the numerous stories. Everyone knew that Jos was hard on his son. Way too hard. Hell, he even boasted about it! Michael had never seen it up close, but he had heard things. Seen the way the little boy flinched when Jos raised his voice behind the fences of junior events.

Michael looked back at his daughter, her little face scrunched with concern, thumb nervously brushing the edge of the paper napkin.

“Nat… I think it’d be a very nice thing to do,” he spoke finally, his voice quiet. “But you can’t take it personally if he doesn’t say thank you.”

Natalie slowly nodded, trying to understand why Michael would mention such things.

“You have to remember, he’s not used to kindness, Kleine,” Michael added, almost more to himself than to her. “Not from people who don’t want something from him.” (Kleine = little one)

She looked up at him, confused. “But.. Papa, I don’t.. want anything from him?”

Michael smiled softly. “I know you don’t,” He nodded, slowly. “You can go ahead,” his voice quiet. “But don’t stay too long, okay?”

“I won’t, Pa,” she promised.

Natalie spun around and walked across the gravel with no hesitation, sausage bun in both hands, toward the boy no one seemed to look at twice. Her eyes moved from the food to Max, then back again.

The boy didn’t look up right away. He was crouched low, elbows resting on his knees, eyes fixed on the dirt. His fingers were smudged with mud, busy pulling up little weeds just for something to do.

But when her racing boots crunched softly against the grass, Max tensed. His head snapped up, and cold blue eyes met hers. Wide, suspicious, a little red around the edges. Natalie froze; she hadn’t expected his stare to feel like that. She felt her face go warm, suddenly too aware of how quiet it was between them. But she held up the hotdog anyway.

“Um… hi,” she slowly smiled.

Max didn’t answer. Just blinked at her, not moving an inch.

They hadn’t spoken before. Not even once. She didn’t know if he spoke English. Or German, or anything she knew. But she figured she had to try something.

“I… I brought you food,” she added awkwardly, holding it out a little further.

Max glanced at the hotdog, then back at her. His shoulders stayed hunched. His small face didn’t soften.

“Why..?” he asked confused, voice quiet.

Natalie shifted her weight, unsure what to say. She didn’t have the guts to explain all of it. That she’d seen the way his father yelled, how it reminded her of stories Papa never told but the adults sometimes did. That she didn’t think anyone should have to eat dinner alone, especially not after working so hard to win a race.

So instead, she shrugged. “Because you didn’t get one,” she settled on. “And it’s good. And I thought you might’ve wanted one.”

Max looked at her like she’d just said something in a completely foreign language. His lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment she thought he might stand up and walk away.

But then, slowly, carefully, Max reached out and took the hotdog from Natalie’s hands. Their fingers brushed for a second, and he flinched, just barely, but didn’t let go.

Natalie smiled, relieved. “See? Not poisoned.”He didn’t smile back, but he didn’t scowl either. Which felt like progress.

Natalie sat down beside him in the grass, close enough to be friendly but not enough to crowd him. Her knees brushed against a dandelion, and she plucked it absentmindedly as he stared down at the food like he wasn’t sure what to do with it.

“You can eat,” Natalie raised a brow, glancing sideways at him. “I told you it wasn’t poisonous.”

She watched with quiet curiosity as Max slowly unwrapped the hotdog in his lap. His tiny fingers moved carefully, like he was afraid of tearing the paper wrong, or maybe just buying time. Then, without saying a word, he tore the hotdog in half. He glanced sideways at her, a little shy, then held one half out in her direction.

She didn’t move at first, too surprised to. “Huh? You can have it,” Natalie said softly. “It was for you.”

Max shrugged, still holding it out. He didn’t explain, and Natalie didn’t push him. Eventually, she took it from his hand, their fingers brushing again for the briefest second. It wasn’t a big piece, but her stomach was grateful anyway. She hadn’t even realized how hungry she still was.

With a smirk, she took an overly dramatic bite, exaggerating the chew and letting out a satisfied “Mmm” that made Max’s lips twitch. Then he giggled. Just a little, barely more than a breath. Natalie tried not to make a big deal out of it, but it made her grin widen.

She watched from the corner of her eye as he finally brought his half to his mouth and took a small, cautious bite, like he was waiting to make sure it wouldn’t disappear before he could finish it.

“Natalie,” she spoke after a moment, pointing to herself. “I’m Natalie.”

Max tilted his head, swallowed his bite, and echoed, “Nah-lee?”

“Close enough,” she smiled.

He paused, then pointed to himself. “Max.”

“I know,” she shook her head, and then laughed softly. “You’re very fast.”

Max blinked, surprised by the compliment. His face shifted a little. It was less guarded, and more curious.

“You too,” he acknowledged, the words slow and thick with what she realized was a Dutch accent. “Very fast.”

Natalie nodded, chewing the last bit of her food. She liked the way he said it. His voice sounded better now, separated from the fright of his father.

They didn’t talk much after that. There wasn’t really a need to. They sat there in the grass, the firelight from the camps scattered around the grounds casting flickers of gold across Max’s face as he ate quietly beside her.

When they finished, Natalie stood, brushing crumbs from her knees. Max looked up at her unsure.

She reached out and took the crumpled kitchen roll from his lap, combining it with hers in one hand. Max blinked at her, clearly surprised, but didn’t argue. Just folded his hands awkwardly in his lap.

“Uhm… Bye,” Natalie offered him a little wave and a small smile.

Max hesitated, then returned it with the same tiny wave. “Bye.”

And just like that, Natalie turned and walked back toward her motorhome, toward the warm hum of her father’s voice and the quiet comfort of knowing she was loved. Never realizing that for Max, that hotdog and that five minutes of peace might be the kindest thing anyone had done for him in months.

taglist @anamiad00msday @norstappenvibes @maxswhore33 @ragioniera @anedpev @dannydancer1 @beyond-the-ashes @flowersofdeath @camilahpg03 @iisa-bellla @haileyweinstein @butterflygxril @c3lest328 @toxicthotsyndrome68 @d-aydr3aming-in-stars @itsjustmyopinionf1 @quelinameowl @lagrandeoursee @havaneselover08 @luckyladycreator2 @linneaadele @softmhm @gabriellepearce96 @cryinghotmess @manuztb @embonbon @lelevs @athanasia-day @darkkingchild @wallowinmemories

[loricciardo]

YOU'RE SO VAIN, a Max Verstappen story.

pairing. Max Verstappen x original female character.

taglist. want to join my taglist for this story? comment or shoot me an ask.

synopsis. Natalie Schumacher is fast, fearless, and absolutely sick of being told she’s lucky. Being the daughter of a legend, she’s been branded “Formula 1 royalty” since she first entered this world as a small newborn.

Enter: Max Emilian Verstappen. Two-time world champion. A God on the track and a mess of contradictions off it--infuriating, electrifying, and raw in a way she just can't shake. At once, his rootlessness upends her routine. And, unfortunately, he is very loud about the fact that he thinks she doesn’t belong.

Max can’t stand Natalie. Not because she’s slow.. she isn’t. And it’s not because she’s soft. If anything, she races like a live wire. No, Max Verstappen hates Natalie Schumacher because she walks around with everything he never had: friends who love her before the podiums, a brother who’d throw punches in her defense, a family whose shadow feels like a blanket of protection, not pressure. She’s surrounded by warmth. But Max? He grew up in an icy cold tundra.

What do you do with feelings you didn’t plan for? What happens when the person you were raised to beat is the one who finally sees you for who you are?

status. on-going, i will try to update every tuesday, however i am writing this as i post, so updates may be slow as i want to properly depict the story i have in my head.

tags. female original character, misogyny and toxic masculinity (F1-typical), a lot of cussing, depictions of mental health issues (post-traumatic stress disorder, depression, bipolar, anxiety), depictions of childhood trauma, slow burn, NSFW themes (eventual smut? who knows..), references to past abuse and assault (physical, mental, sexual in reference to children and adults), abusive relationship in a romantic setting, mentions of michael schumacher’s accident, Max and Natalie are dicks!

Chapters will be marked accordingly. Please read before proceeding and exercise appropriate reader discretion.

DISCLAIMER. This is a work of fanfiction. I obviously do not own FORMULA 1 or any other forms of intellectual property. I do, however, own the original characters of this novel (Natalie Schumacher), as well as the plot lines and the writing itself. Some aspects are semi-based on true events following the 2023 season, but this is overwhelmingly a work of pure fanfiction and is far detached from reality. Additionally, there will be comments made for the sake of this fanfiction that I don’t believe the drivers would ever make. Do not let this story reflect your image on them. Please do not copy, redistribute, plagiarize, or translate this work under any circumstances.

• • • PLEASE DON'T BE A SILENT READER! I love seeing feedback and reactions. It really motivates me as a writer! I hope you enjoy 'You're So Vain.' Thank you for taking the time to read.

: ̗̀➛ 01. so this is how it starts?

: ̗̀➛ 02. too sweet.

[loricciardo]

MAX VERSTAPPEN MASTERLIST.

pinned rules main masterlist

YOU'RE SO VAIN. series, various.

[loricciardo]

would anyone want to be tagged? comment or like this post!!

[loricciardo]

CHARLES LECLERC MASTERLIST.

pinned rules main masterlist

TAG YOU LATER. SMAU, fluff.

[loricciardo]

NAVIGATION.

pinned rules & writing list navigation

FERRARI:

charles leclerc masterlist

lewis hamilton masterlist

RED BULL:

max verstappen masterlist

yuki tsunoda masterlist

McLAREN:

lando norris masterlist

oscar piastri masterlist

MERCEDES:

george russell masterlist

kimi antonelli masterlist

WILLIAMS:

alex albon masterlist

carlos sainz masterlist

MORE TO BE ADDED PER REQUESTS.

[loricciardo]

the amount of chat gpt fanfics/oneshots i see on here is astounding… am i the only one that notices???

[loricciardo]

me as a writer

[loricciardo]

TAG YOU LATER, charles leclerc.

pinned rules masterlist

pairing. charles leclerc x indie musician!reader

summary. an up and coming american indie musician tags charles leclerc on instagram after he wins the austin grand prix, never expecting him to see it; let alone comment. when he gets hooked on a dreamy demo she shared, not realizing she’s the one who made it… things spiral fast.

tags. female reader, fluffy, slight cussing, SMAU, usage of y/n as name is unspecified, unaddressed hate comments, reader is an american from texas,

author’s note. hey!!!! i’ve never in my life written a SMAU so i hope this isn’t too shit 😭 feedback is always welcome and appreciated!!!! lots of love ALSO I RUSHED THE END IM SORRY!!!

request are open, not proofread, based on this ask. looking for beta readers! x

🎶 stranger to me (demo) — by your band

liked by charles_leclerc, yourbandmate1, gracieabrams and 3,478 others

yn still not over yesterday. charles leclerc on the podium in my home state??? unreal. also if you see a girl sobbing during the anthem… no you didn’t.

tagged charles_leclerc, scuderiaferrari

view all 368 comments. . .

charles_leclerc Merci ❤️ I didn’t see anyone crying I promise 😅 Also great song choice

↳ yn not you actually seeing this 😭😭 wait. wait. you listened to it?

↳ charles_leclerc Yes! On repeat actually. Who is the artist?

↳ carlossainz55 Mate… 😂😂😂

↳ charles_leclerc ????

↳ ferrarifan1 oh charles is dumb dumb

ynluvr128 Wait. Wait. Wait. Is this happening.. in real time?!

random IMAGINE THE CHARLES LECLERC is in your comments what is going on 😭

f1gossipgirl wtf is charles doing here lmao

random Another clout chaser 🥱 F1 isn’t the same anymore with all these wannabe WAGs

yourbandmate1 Way to promote the song go girl xo

↳ yn I DIDNT EVEN MEAN TO

↳ yourbandmate2 well it went up in streams sooo keep doing this 💝💝

charles_leclerc has added to their story!

🎶 stranger to me (demo) — by your band

yn has replied to your story:

yn okay so um. hi 😅 i didn’t want to say anything publicly because i was kind of dying on the inside and it just felt weird to announce but

yn i’m the artist btw

yn or… well my band is 😭 i wasn’t gonna release it but now charles leclerc listens to it apparently so that’s cool

charles_leclerc Wait

charles_leclerc No no no

charles_leclerc You can’t just casually be that good and expect no one to notice 😅

charles_leclerc That’s so cool. You’re seriously talented yn liked this message

yn thank you!!!!! 🤍🤍

yn i’m kinda glad you didn’t know 😭 it feels less weird that way

charles_leclerc Makes sense

charles_leclerc But now that I do know… it’s even more impressive

charles_leclerc You’ve got something special. The lyrics are very well written

yn that means a lot especially coming from someone who’s used to yknow…

yn engines n shit idfk 😭

charles_leclerc Hey!!!! 😡

charles_leclerc I write music too

charles_leclerc Well

charles_leclerc I mess around on the piano sometimes but still

yn wait for real??? youre a musician too??? what can’t you people do 😭

charles_leclerc “Musician” is a very very strong word I’m afraid

charles_leclerc I play a few basic progressions when I can’t sleep

yn honestly relatable af

yn that’s how stranger to me happened

charles_leclerc It’s a sign chéri. It seems to be working well for you ❤️

yn i’ll take that as encouragement to keep making sad little ballads then

charles_leclerc Yes! Please do

charles_leclerc I need new stuff to listen to. You have a very specific vibe and I’m addicted now 😅

yn well damn

yn guess i have to finish my next song 😭 charles_leclerc liked this message

charles_leclerc has followed you back!

liked by bandmate1, yourband, bandmate2, charles_leclerc, tatemcrae, and 7,269 others

yn currently writing songs i swore i’d never let anyone hear. funny how quickly that changes sometimes. #MaybeWeWillShareThisOne #OrWillWe?

tagged yourband, bandmate1, bandmate2, bandmate3

view all 1,655 comments. . .

ynfan this era of her is so raw i’m obsessed

charles_leclerc 👀 Now you have to release it liked by yn and 5,279 others

↳ fan1 omg CHARLES AGAIN??

↳ hater i can’t tell if he actually likes her music or just wants in her pants LMFAO

↳ fan2 He is here before the fanpages are 😭

↳ fan3 is he not embarrassed 💀

carlossainz55 @charles_leclerc Did you switch careers or what?

↳ charles_leclerc I can’t just appreciating good music anymore?

↳ fan he’s SWEATING in these comments lol

lilymhe I vote yes for release DM me the drop 😌

↳ yn only if you pinky swear not to leak it 🤙

↳ lilymhe What do you take me for? 🤙

↳ fan omg not lily being in on it too

↳ fan soft-launch SQUAD confirmed

bff1 drop. the. demo. or we riot.

↳ yn y-y… yes maam 😅 (help she is holding me at gun point)

musicblogger22 I love watching you lean into this. your sound deserves to be loud 🔥

bandmate3 YESSSSSSSS 🙌🙌🙌🙌🙌

↳ bandmate3fan i want u so bad

f1gossipgirl ok but are we just ignoring the way Charles is basically soft launching in her comments?

↳ yndefender girl what??? 💀 they’re just friends???

charlesfan876 she’s literally milking this attention lol

ynhater4 girl one song on insta doesn’t make you a musician 😭

↳ ynHQ and yet he’s in her likes and you’re in the comments 🫶

f1updatesdaily can someone explain to me why this random singer is suddenly everywhere with the drivers??

random i swear if she doesn’t release this one i’ll cry

yncharlesshipper He’s gonna end up in a song isn’t he 👀

↳ fan he’s already inspired one idk what y’all mean

f1updatesdaily 📸 Spotted: Charles Leclerc out in Las Vegas with American singer-songwriter YN of yourband following the Vegas GP.

The two were seen walking around the Strip late at night after grabbing food. Fans were quick to recognize YN from a recent post where she tagged Charles after his Austin podium, where he left a suspiciously flirty comment. 👀

She is behind the indie track Stranger to Me that Charles recently shared to his story last week.

More than just a coincidence? Swipe ➡️ for more.

#F1 #CharlesLeclerc #Ferrari #VegasGP #WAGWatch #WhoIsShe #YnLn #LasVegas

view all 2,465 comments. . .

ynmusicfan THE WAY SHE’S BEEN LOWKEY FOR YEARS AND NOW THIS??

wagupdates she’s been on a few spotify editorial playlists lately too?? i’m smelling gold diggerrrr

fan “stranger to me” is about to chart isn’t it 😭

wherestheferrari not the guy who plays piano falling for a girl who writes sad songs

↳ charlesfan26 meant to be!!!! we love yn in this house 🏠

ynupdates IS THAT WHO I THINK IT IS?!?!?!

fan3 not the indie girlies entering the F1 universe now 😭

f1slayyy unpopular opinion but i kinda love this for him

f1anon Y’all she’s American and 4 years younger than him… plot twist

↳ yndefender2 am I the only one who thinks the gap is a little weird 💀 Charles is ancient

f1hatersunite fame-hunting 101 lol

charles_leclerc has added to their story!

yn has replied to your story:

yn are you trying to start rumors or are you just feeling bold today

yn also?? favorite sound????? i’m blushing pls

charles_leclerc Both are true

charles_leclerc Also you blush really easily, chéri

charles_leclerc It’s cute yn has liked this message

f1girlie CHARLES. LECLERC. JUST POSTED A GIRL ON HIS STORY. NO TAG. NO CONTEXT. I’M UNWELL.

lovedovedance wait wait WAIT is that the same girl who dropped stranger to me??? the vibes matchhhh

leclercdaily She had headphones on. “Favorite sound.” He’s either dating her or she made him a playlist that changed his life

goferrari69 not charles soft launching his manic pixie dream indie girlfriend while i cry over my physics exam

ynlovebot OKAY BUT. the caption. the framing. the fact she’s not tagged??? that’s real. that’s intentional. yn x charles era is here

delusionaldutch i fear this is the girl from vegas.

leclercgf we lost girls. wrap it up.

maxverstappenshrine me pretending i don’t care while zooming in and enhancing like i’m on NCIS

charlesloverreal no bc if this IS her then charles has TASTE. this is what a yearning man

haterhoe69 not another one of them falling for the ✨artsy✨ american girls 💀 y’all are weak

carlossainzstannie atp if she gets invited to qatar i’m logging out permanently

liked by charles_leclerc, taylorswift, georgerussell63, scuderiaferrari, bff1, and 20,369 others

yn wrote a song and found a soft place to land. 🤍truly forza ferrari 🏎️🇶🇦

tagged charles_leclerc, scuderiaferrari, qatargp

view all 14,972 comments. . .

charles_leclerc Even your captions are poetic. Love you ❤️ liked by yn and 17,252 others

↳ yn ❤️❤️ forever?

charles_leclerc Is that even a question, chéri?

fan OH MY GOD

leclercsleftdimple that deep ass kiss just healed my trust issues

ynupdates her caption?? charles’ comment?? everyone shut up this is love

lando We’ve been knew but congrats Ig

↳ yn jealous much?

↳ lando Of him? Not a chance

↳ yn i meant jealous of me. we know you want a homoerotic relationship with charles liked by 162 others

↳ landofan THIS IS SO??? 😭

leclercnation she writes songs AND makes our boy smile like that?? wife material confirmed

hater27 i tried to hate but i listened to her song and now i’m just confused

WAGupdates this is why we never trust a man’s instagram story. full relationship arc in 4 posts

carmenmmundt She’s beauty, she’s grace, she’s everything. He’s there. Love you.

↳ yn sending all my love carmen 🤍🤍 you’re welcome to hang out in the ferrari garage anytime george pisses you off x

↳ georgerussell63 Excuse me??????

↳ yn everyone is a ferrari fan! forza ferrari george

pierregasly finally. my timeline is at peace.

gracieabrams literally crying at this softboy era you unlocked 😭🫶

lilymhe Miss you girlie!!!!

↳ yn can we date instead

[loricciardo]

Can you write a Smau with Charles and an American small music artist reader who is younger than him by like 4-5 years and he just happens to come across her instagram when she tags him in a post about a recent Grand Prix where he was on the podium and it spirals from there??? Maybe he listens to her music but doesn’t realize that she is the artist??? I hope that’s doable, I’ve never requested before so I’m hoping this gives something to go off on

this is totally doable!!! thank you so much for the ask. 🩵 anyway, here’s the fic, i hope it’s alright! i’ve never do smau’s soooooo it might be a bit rough/hard to read 💔

[loricciardo]

'he would not fucking say that' maybe he would if he knew he was starring in his very own porn fic for the sole purpose of delighting some freaks on archive of our own dot org. maybe he'd play it up for the cameras. ever consider that

[loricciardo]

Thoughts on the Spain Grand Prix?

i wasnt able to catch it this morning but watching the highlights/clipped videos, here are my thoughts:

PIASTRI IS THAT GUY! man absolutely dominated from pole and took that dub. that’s win #5 this season!!!! mclaren out here looking unstoppable with lando right behind for the 1-2

lando = my consistent goat.. i mean he didnt win but is stacking those podiums!!! especially since lando only has 2 wins this szn so far (compared to oscar's 5) meanwhile lando is only 10 points behind him in the championship

KIMIS DNF </3 no real drama just mechanical issues. tough luck rip to his race its a shame and i worry for mercedes because the car has been an issue twice now during this triple header

max has lost the plot (again) to george.. i mean that was super late in the race and just painfully unnecessary. i feel like max dug his own grave afterwards to the media by not owning up to his mistake/not apologizing to george. also he’s now 1 penalty point away from a race ban. like??? chill tf out

hamilton getting dunked on by hülkenberg (yeah, hülkenberg) is arguably the craziest thing that happened in my opinion. i think it is unbelievable that nico was able to get that fucking toaster sauber calls a car into the points…. nevertheless past LEWIS HAMILTON??

anyway so i think i just share the general opinion towards barcelona and i just hope canada isnt as excruciating to watch

[loricciardo]

my asks are currently open! send in asks for your fav drivers!!! and be sure to check out my rules & writing list <3

[loricciardo]

RULES & WRITING LIST.

✬ my requests are always open, but please note that it might take me a while to get around to your submission. i want each submission to have the same amount of effort and motivation put into it and sometimes my heart just isn't able to be in it!

✬ i am partial to writing smut, however i am not extremely confident in my ability to do so as this isn't the main focus of this blog. additionally, any kimi antonelli requests will be sfw only.

✬ please do NOT use AI to generate prompts, and also do not train any kind of AI with my fics, whether it’s for your personal use or not.

✬ i can write smau's, imagines, & text message povs as well but it must be stated within your request that that is what you’re looking for.

✬ i can and will deny your request if i think i cannot write it properly or if it's illegal, non-con, unethical, etc.

✬ i do not write ship fics (character x character.)

✬ i only write for fem!oc/reader!

✬ please avoid sending “can you write one for x, plot is up to you”-requests. they're very hard to write because.. i have nothing to go off of and if i do one request like that, my inbox eventually is flooded with that.

✬ please do not spam my inbox with your request, i'll get to it as soon as possible!

i currently write for (subject to change):

lando norris. oscar piastri. max verstappen. carlos sainz. daniel ricciardo. charles leclerc. lewis hamilton. george russell. kimi antonelli. sebastian vettel. toto wolff. aryton senna. michael schumacher.

if there is a driver you don't see on here, thats fine! shoot me a request and i can probably write something. don’t be afraid to request. however, if they are not here that means my confidence in writing their personality is either low/i don't know enough about them!

[loricciardo]

ᝰ 💋 .ᐟ first the mic , then a half cigarette

@loricciardo / lori .ᐟ 

she.  777. formula one. music luvr.  elliott smith. jeff buckley. writing. summer. max verstappen. local weird girl. filmbro. wes anderson. dazed and confused. red bull racing. aryton senna. photo archive.  vintage everything.  60s 70s 80s 90s obsessed. pop girlie.  links + request info below  ꩜

my masterlists are under the navigation tag.

if you wish to request something, please be sure to read my rules! they also include my complete writing list. thank you.

if you are interested in joining my taglist, send an ask in to my inbox with your username! will not be posted publicly (unless i’m tagging you, obviously.) if you would like to join a specific taglist (ex. a certain celeb OR a certain series of mine) please be specific in your ask.

if you have an inquiries or would like to talk, dont be afraid to reach out! requests are always open unless stated otherwise.

rules & writing list navigation wattpad