#max-snippet:-1

[mamun5689]

بکس بت - سایت شرط بندی BaxBet

پیش‌بینی‌های ورزشی، بازی‌های کازینویی و بازی انفجار بکس بت رو تجربه کنین. اپلیکیشن بکس بت  بدون نیاز به فیلترشکن و ضرایب عالی! ثبت‌نام کنین و برنده بشین!هنا لمزيد من التفاصيل https://jasapoker.news/gambling-site/baxbet/

[gamaabacus1999]

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[catzz089]

*appears from thin air* snippet… pls pls pls

Sighs deeply heavily and aggressively. Come and get your munch

“No.”

“Max-”

“No. Vic I’m not changing my mind on this. I don’t know you or mum. In case you don’t recall, I was left with him when I was eight. The last time I tried to fucking speak to you, you handed the phone straight off to Jos and let him scream at me for hours and you never even bothered to check in. I’m tired of putting in effort for you two when you don’t care about me. Because if she ever fucking cared she wouldn’t have signed off full custody without a second thought.”

“It was better for you.” She argued, “With the racing and the training, you needed someone who could help you with that. It was the best option.”

“I was a punching bag,” He sneered, “I learned to cover up bruises at eight fucking years old. Do you think it ever got any better? And what about when I fucked up my wrist so badly I couldn’t race anymore? What was the reason then? Was it just too much of an inconvenience to try and get me out? Mum did nothing for me. I’m not leaving my home for her.”

Victoria was glaring now. “She was scared, Max. She was fucking terrified. We both were. Jos wasn’t a good man, what do you think he would have done to her? You were an issue Max. You got unhappy then you started taking drugs and failing every single fucking class. Mum didn’t know how to support that. And if we’d known dad wanted our phones to call you, maybe we wouldn’t have let him have them! But as it stood, a drunk, aggressive man was screaming at us from outside. We did what we could.”

“What do you think happened to me? Why do you think I became such an issue,” He spat the word out, “Nobody did anything for me. I did what I could to feel better, and I quit when it made me feel worse.” He fumed.

“Look, are you coming home or not?” She hissed.

Max didn’t need to respond.

Victoria searched his face for answers, for a yes. She wouldn’t find it.

Victoria scoffed one last time, somehow drenched in more disdain than before and stormed off without so much as a second glance.

Max watched her leave, and collapsed down onto the table once she was gone. His head knocked harshly against the hard wood, but he couldn’t muster up the energy to care even when the pain he forgot about starting ringing harshly again.

Max paid and left silently soon after.

---

Max wasn’t really sure where he was, or where he was going. His mind was moving faster than his feet and when he finally came to he was sat on the edge of the harbour, looking out across the sea.

The midnight blue waves crashed against each other sending sparks of water at his face. It was refreshing, any other night it would have been calming.

His head throbbed still, clouding the edges of his vision and threatening his balance. He wished he had some painkillers.

He curled his legs up, hugging them to his chest. The moon stared down at him; It was full and bright and overwhelming. He turned his head back down, the waves were too restless to show reflections anyway.

It was only then, when he came to the slow conclusion that no, he hadn’t brought his jacket, and yes, it was fucking freezing.

He must have looked a sight. Hunched over on the dock in a deep red waistcoat, ironed black shirt and pristine dress pants whilst gripping at his own hands in some vague attempt of grounding himself.

At least he wasn’t crying yet.

“Max?”

[stickdoodlefriend]

A short letter from the Lestappen historical AU I'm working on:

Cheri,

I apologize. The distance between us kills me. I see you winning and it drives the beast inside me wild like the world deserves to see you so good at what you do.

I have been in discussions with Maranello. You are so dear to me so I must tell you. Champion Raikonnen is leaving, and they have offered me a spot. It should fill me with joy to achieve my father's dream, Jules's dream, to honor their memories and legacy, and yet I have read the scriptures. I had believed they would love me enough for my devotion and discipline ever since I joined their Academy, but for all their love to me, I am not enough.

You remain my only requited love it seems, and I carry you dearly where it doesn't hurt me. I will not let them use you as a thing to wound me when it is me with thorns that cuts you over and over with my grief and burdens.

Know this, and keep the only token of my possessions I can bequeath to you. I hope when you kiss the rosary, you can feel the imprint of my lips. Thank Lady Verstappen and Victoria for their love on my behalf.

Praying for us to have the sea again,

Your shatje

< Prev / 4

[saiyanwitcher]

Finally, after several tense moments, Max blinked, and his breathing began to slow. The tension in his body eased slightly, and his fists unclenched as recognition dawned in his eyes, releasing his energy. He looked at Charles, really looked at him this time, and the fear that had held him captive started to ebb away.

“Charles?” Max’s voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“Come back to me, Max,” Charles said gently, offering him a small, reassuring smile. “Please, come back to me.”

@yesloulou gif

[sloughhousestaircase]

Some spoilers for The Secret Hours

“Look… what name they got you living under now?”

“Max.”

“Max. Jackson Lamb.”

“Nice to make your acquaintance, Jackson Lamb.”

“Look, this one here’s Cartwright Jr. Try to only hold it against him with one hand, cause with your other I’m going to need you to keep him out of trouble. Unless you’ve got…standing arrangements to play bridge, or whatever it is the old and useless do.”

“It’s chess in the park, actually. But I’m sure if my hands get full, your lad here can move a pawn or two for me. Can he read a chessboard?”

“I’m not even convinced he can read.”

[papayapastry81]

I ask politely for you to unleash the 3 alternatives to chapter 11 of your fic(only if you're comfortable!!). On the other hand I've been following you fic religiously it's good I've cried like 10 different times. I can't wait for the rest of the fic.✨✨

i genuinely did not think anyone would be interested in the drafts but i’ve gotten so many requests about this that im actually considering putting out excerpts of the alt drafts 👀

not the full versions, unfortunately-- some scenes were recycled into chapter 12 or might appear in future chapters. but the ones that got cut entirely? i could definitely share those here if you guys are interested.

and thank you so much for reading !! i hope the upcoming chapters keep hitting the spot and are worth it<333

but here are two (out of the three, one got published ^^) alternate versions of chapter 11, loosely summarised (they got a bit wordy, apologiess 😅). let me know which one you'd want to see a snippet of first and i’ll dig into what i can post !

1. charles wakes up and realises oscar hasn’t left. he just lies there for a moment before breaking down-- silent at first, then uncontrollable. oscar wakes up to him crying and doesn’t quite know what to do. it’s a quiet, painful kind of tenderness. there’s a slightly different version of the flinch scene (the one that ended up in chapter 11), plus a longer continuation of the moment in chapter 12 where charles realises oscar’s been blaming himself this whole time.

2. we follow max’s day for a change. he goes through his routine-- makes breakfast, tries to keep things steady. it’s instinct, habit, almost a penance. for the first time, he doesn’t know how to fix things, so he does what he knows best, be present. a solid, steady, grounding presence. he walks into the room with food and finds oscar, alone, curled in on himself, barely holding it together, and something in max just cracks. this version got abandoned about 3/4 of the way through, so i might need to work on it a bit before sharing-- but it’s quiet, heavy, and very max. i will need to edit the snippets a bit because at the moment, they are roughly written scenes but yeah ! if anyone is interested, do let me know which one of the you'd like ! i will try my best to put them out ! and to all the anons who sent in similar asks, i hope this answers it ! i appreciate each and one of you<33

[postracehair]

hi sweet postracehair i hope you dont mind me asking how your max friends to lovers fic is going…. Im still thinking about it like the concept of it is so delicious

oh god, sweet anon. of course i do not mind you asking! i wish i had better news for you. so -- i would say it's about half-written but i have not picked it up since the end of the season. the plan was to cover the final three races and then the prize ceremony. i think i would still like to finish the draft i have (some time from the actual events might loosen me up and allow me to actually finish it without fussing over the details). i think i might be on the fence about the smut i had planned -- but hey, nothing matters. maybe I'll just go all in!

thank you for asking about it and still being interested in it. as a reward, here is some of it :) a rough draft but hopefully enough to intrigue!

[raewritesf1]

5+1 getting caught please

I apparently lost the Alex section of this wip so I’m here’s this instead :)

Maybe if a max hadn’t hit that certain spot, the bundle of nerves that nearly made him unravel he would have noticed the whispered words and approaching steps. Maybe if he wasn’t so consumed by Max he wouldn’t have been so caught of guard by the sudden light flooding the room as the door cracked open, their still bickering team principals standing on the other end.

George doesn’t think he’d ever wanted to die more than he did in that moment. Even Max looked as close to mortified as he probably could get.

For a moment the four men stood awkwardly all trying to avoid one another’s eyes. George adamantly refused to meet his bosses eyes, unsure if he would ever be able to look Toto in the eyes ever again.

Christian cleared his throat, face nearly as red and George own. “Um-“ he started, though Toto, thankfully, quickly cut him off; slamming the door shut.

“Fucking Christ.” George cursed, letting his head fall back against the wall.

[mamun5689]

لانا کازینو با پیش بینی ورزشی، بازی های کازینویی مثل پوکر و بلک جک و بازی انفجار. اپلیکیشن موبایل بدون فیلتر و ضرایب رقابتی در انتظار شماست!// هنا لمزيد من التفاصيلhttps://jasapoker.news/gambling-site/lanacasino/

[femboylando]

lestappen snippet

I was tagged by @landoom to share a snippet of the fic I'm working on !!!!!! thank you for giving me a tag :( <3

I am not writing much outside of my lestappen regency au so I only have that to offer

I'm not too familiar with people on here yet so I will simply open this to anyone who I am following or come across this !!!! please share a snippet of what you are working on <3

this snippet isn't very lestappen but I adore lando and Charles so

“I suppose…He enjoys cooking. He talks highly of sharing meals and treats with his mother and sister…perhaps I could cook for him? Perhaps something from his home? He is belgian…but I have no way of knowing what else they could make out there. I only know what Max has made. I  do not want to copy him and bore him.” “Oh do not worry about recipes, Charles. My mother is Belgian, you know? I grew up on the food myself, so I will source the recipes myself and I could even taste them if you wish, so you do not poison your future husband.” Lando followed the small jab with a giggle. “Lord, do not say that! I am capable of learning!” “Did you not burn a whole dish once?” Lando asked, eyebrows raised.

[catzz089]

can we have a snippet?? 😔😔😔😔😔😔

Well well well... the moment we've all been waiting for. Max POV

Max groaned when he swung the fridge door open and saw the pitiful state of his fridge. All he wanted was some nice and simple cereal and he didn’t even have milk.

He knew drinking would be a bad idea last night, yet something about seeing Charles opposite him, being so gorgeous and flirty and kind, made him shoot back wine like shots, eager to calm his nerves.

It had definitely gone to his head last night. He had the vague memory of pressing up against Charles, kissing him so hard they may as well have sucked each other's soul out.

He wished he’d at least been sober enough to remember it properly.

He could also remember Charles telling him to do it whilst sober though, and while it was a thrilling enticing hope inducing offer, that meant they were actually going to have to talk about it because Max was physically incapable of keeping his mouth shut if he came face to face with that sculpted face and he was not strong enough avoid Charles for the whole day.

Hence, talking.

Which he wasn’t good at. At all.

And he figured he needed to treat himself a little just in case it didn’t work out and he had to flee the country, change his name and get plastic surgery.

So despite the alcohol-induced pounding headache and bleary eyes he grabbed Charles’ hoodie and left the apartment.

---

He dropped the bag on instinct when the first hand grabbed at his arm.

Panic flared through him, instantly calmed by waves of adrenaline kicking his mind into complete tunnel-vision focus. But before he could even lift an arm up to defend himself someone leapt onto his back, knocking him harshly down to his knees.

He thrashed up like a caged animal, desperate to throw the man off, but a sharp sting hit his neck before he was able to get rid of him.

He flew upright, he was surrounded all around. There were so many people. He couldn’t fight them all.

Why did this shit always have to happen to him?

He picked up the bag and swung it at someone's face, the milk split open almost comically, drenching the broad, angry man in it. It would’ve been funny if Max wasn’t immediately hit by another fist from behind.

It sent him careening straight to the ground, where his hands were too slow to catch his fall. He could feel warm liquid pour out of a new gash on his forehead and a pain so blinding that he thought he may actually die coursed through his veins. His vision was clouded with black dots and duplicates when he pressed two shaky arms underneath himself in some vain attempt to get up and take a chance at running, but it all felt so hazy and it just hurt so badly he barely even fought it when the foot pressed against his back, slamming him straight back down onto the cold concrete.

He wanted to fight off the harsh gripping hands, but really the most he could do were some meagre shuffles as new bruises got pressed deep into his skin and he could feel himself getting pulled up to his knees.

His entire head throbbed like it never had before, he clenched his eyes shut to try and keep out the sunlight until a harsh slap hit his face, knocking his eyes back open and wide.

“Has it not hit yet?” One of them murmured.

“It was meant to, you packed the strong stuff right?”

“Of course I did.”

“Injected it properly?”

“Do you think I’m fucking stupid?”

Max really wished they would shut up. He wasn’t sure his head could take it.

It must’ve been the pain. The thing that was slowing everything down. He wasn’t really processing much. The words were all sort of mixing together, jumbling up in his mind like-

His head hit the ground before he could finish his train of thought.

[stickdoodlefriend]

A letter from the Lestappen historical AU I'm working on

Charlie,

You must find me silly for writing you letters when we live together, but indulge me, schatje. It fills me with glee to send you letters without stamps. I feel silly with joy when our fingers brush when I pass them to you across the dinner table.

But I alas I must air you my grievance. I cannot believe you would not share with me the wonderful news first. All to see me make a fool of myself when I saw you on that paddock representing Sauber. I was so baffled when I realized that the Junior King's Championship tournament did not fight here but that you were, fighting for the King's championship itself. White and red suit you well, like an angel with a devious streak. I envision you rolling your eyes at my remark, and unfortunately that sight has me smitten and wanting to bite the smirk on your face.

But now, you see, I told you so! I was correct! You were a wildfire out there, kicking up dirt, commanding your horse with such skill, no wonder you have already surpassed Eriksson in ranking. I know your goal is Ferrari, but you will see. They love you as much as I do. And one day, we will fight for the top step of the podium, medals and trophies side by side. You look so lovely winning, rendered even more beautiful when I have done everything in my power and you have overcome me by sheer force of your brilliance.

What song were you humming just now? It is almost sunset so I have no need to burn candlelight if that helps you place it better. I am glad you are singing again after life's cruel trials.

Are we still visiting Lorenzo and his wife? I can cook a brilliant stew to bring along with some nuts and dates from Bahrain. Across the sea! That is fancy enough to make a good impression? If you laugh at me, I promise I will feed you to the seagulls you love so at dawn when you would still be asleep.

Sweet dreams,

Max

< Prev / 3 / Next >

[saiyanwitcher]

'There was a hidden galaxy within Max's eyes, each glance a glimpse into the infinite, where stardust and secrets danced in the dark.'

[kyri45]

ShadowPeach Bio Parents AU

(2⁰ Masterpost)💛​🧡💜

This masterpost is a continuation of THIS ONE since I ran out of links.

P.8: A Dark, Long Night

Arc 3: 23 - 24 - 25 - 26 - 27 - 28 - 29 - 30 - 31

Arc 4: 32 - 33 - 34 - 35 - 36 - 37 - 38 - 39 - 40 - 41

P.9: A New Dawn (Epilouge)

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13

💜​🧡​💛​FINALE💛​🧡​💜

The first Spinoff, Second Star, has begun!

Extras! (SPOILERS!)

End Credit snippets!

Final party 1

Final party 2

Courtnapping!

Pijama party time!

Father-son bonding experience

Pride parade!

A Spicynoodle Date

Shadowpeach Wedding!

Secret Post-Credit Scene

🎁Official Merch of the Comic!!🎁

📕Comic Summary with extras by @cutvdo📕

🎵Official playlist of the AU🎵

Frequently asked questions:

What inspired you to make the comic? S04 E07. And then S05 finale. I thought that monkey MK looked like the lovechild of shadowpeach

Which app you use? Procreate. Canvas is around 1600x2100px

Why Mac has his Hanfu from left to right? Bc that's how's in the show and it's also a reference to the fact he died

Are MK and Wukong Trans? Yes, they are both FTM transmasc. If you see their chest flat during the comic is because they use glamours/shapeshift almost always

Will we ever see Spicynoodle child? We all agreed that their future kid is Kai. Yes, Kai from Ninjago.

Will you make a sequel? No, I will not make a full sequel. I will make at best a series of spin-offs of the max lenght of 15 chapters each.

Can I make fanart/edits/fanfictions of the comic? Of course! But please tag me and link the masterpost of the comic.

Can I dub the comic? Yes, but before you must DM me and tell me which part you want to dub, where you want to post it, and the username of the people dubbing it.

Can I repost your comic? No

Can I translate your comic? If it hasn't been translated already in your language (check main masterpost to see the translations) then yes. But you must warn me first of where you post it and your username. You must tag me and link the masterpost

Have more questions? Check the past Q&A👇

💛Q&A 12/09🧡Q&A 20/09💜Q&A 28/09💜

💛Q&A 08/10 🧡Q&A 16/10 💜Q&A 23/10💜

💛Q&A 28/10🧡Q&A 07/11💜Q&A 17/11💜

💛Q&A 21/11🧡Q&A 29/11💜Q&A 07/12💜

💛Q&A 23/12🧡Q&A 30/12💜Q&A 06/01💜

💛Q&A 14/01🧡Q&A 25/02💜Q&A 05/03💜

💛Q&A 25/03

[landoughnut]

My Protector

♡ masterlist - request

♡ pairing - charles leclerc x fem!reader

♡ summary - charles won't allow people to speak poorly of his girlfriend, and neither will the other drivers

♡ warnings - protective bf charles, protective platonic grid, rude journalists

♡ w/c & a/n - 1.6k | girl dinnerrrr

The Monaco paddock was always chaotic, but today felt different. You could feel the tension in the air as you walked past the Ferrari garage, hearing snippets of whispered conversations and catching sideways glances from the media personnel.

The familiar scent of rubber and fuel that usually brought you comfort now seemed to mix with something more toxic – speculation and judgment.

"...just a distraction..." "...PR stunt..." "...affecting his performance..." "...can't focus with her around..."

Your stomach twisted. The headlines had started appearing after Charles' podium in Barcelona last weekend. What should have been a moment of celebration had turned into a big thing of speculation, with certain journalists suggesting your relationship was the reason he hadn't secured pole position instead of just a podium.

The fact that the Ferrari's pace genuinely hadn't been there for pole seemed irrelevant to them. You'd seen the social media posts, the opinion pieces, the "expert" analyses of how Charles' racing line had changed since you entered his life – as if your presence somehow affected the physics of his car.

You adjusted your Ferrari team pass, a movement that had become almost nervous lately. Eight months into your relationship with Charles, and this was the first time you'd faced such intense scrutiny. Sure, there had always been paparazzi photos and social media speculation, but this felt different – more personal, more accusatory.

You thought back to the previous night, how Charles had held you close in his apartment, promising that it would all blow over soon.

"They're just looking for stories," he'd said, his fingers tracing patterns on your back. "They do this every season. Remember when they said Fernando was too old? Or when they claimed Max had lost his edge after settling down? It's all nonsense."

But standing here now, under the weight of dozens of judgmental stares, his words felt distant. You clutched your coffee cup tighter, the warmth seeping into your palms providing little comfort.

The same coffee shop where you and Charles had first met – where he'd literally crashed into your life, sending your original drink flying all over your favorite shirt. The memory usually made you smile, but today it felt like ammunition for those claiming your relationship was somehow created by PR teams.

You were about to duck into the Ferrari hospitality area when a microphone was thrust in your face. The reporter – one you recognized from a particularly nasty article last week – wore an expression of barely concealed hostility. Behind her, several other journalists gathered like sharks sensing blood in the water.

"Is it true that Ferrari PR orchestrated your relationship with Charles Leclerc to improve his public image after his difficult 2024 season?" The reporter's voice was sharp, accusatory. "Sources suggest the timing was very convenient. And what do you say to fans who believe you're compromising his focus on the championship?"

Your heart pounded. The memory of your first real meeting with Charles flashed through your mind – how he'd accidentally spilled coffee on you in that little Monaco café, how he'd insisted on buying you a new shirt, how you'd ended up talking for hours about everything except Formula 1.

How he'd been so nervous asking for your number that he'd nearly knocked over a second coffee. How your first date had been at a tiny restaurant far from the glamorous spots he usually frequented, because he wanted somewhere quiet where you could really talk. Nothing about it had been orchestrated or planned.

Before you could respond, a familiar voice cut through the air like a knife.

"That's enough." Charles' tone was ice-cold, nothing like the warm, playful voice you were used to. He stepped between you and the reporter, his usually gentle features set in hard lines. "You can question my driving. You can criticize my strategy calls. But you do not get to fabricate stories about my personal life or harass the woman I love."

The reporter stumbled back, but pressed on. "But Mr. Leclerc, your qualifying performances since beginning this relationship—"

"Have nothing to do with his relationship," Max Verstappen's Dutch accent interrupted as he appeared beside Charles. The Red Bull driver crossed his arms, looking thoroughly annoyed. "Maybe focus on the actual racing instead of making up stories? Charles has been driving better than ever – or did you miss the battle we had in Barcelona? Because I certainly haven't forgotten how hard he made me work for that win."

"The media's treatment of partners in this paddock has always been disgraceful," Lewis Hamilton added, joining the growing circle of drivers. His voice carried the weight of experience, of having seen this pattern repeat too many times. "We're here to race, but we're also human beings with real relationships. This needs to stop. The constant scrutiny of our personal lives, the baseless accusations – it's not journalism, it's harassment. I've seen too many relationships strained or broken because of this kind of pressure, and it's unacceptable."

Charles' hand found yours, squeezing gently. The gesture said everything words couldn't – I'm here, I've got you, we're in this together. You squeezed back, drawing strength from his presence, from the familiar calluses on his palm, from the subtle way his thumb stroked your skin.

"For the record," Charles addressed the now-silent group of journalists, his voice carrying the quiet authority he rarely showed outside of the cockpit, "my relationship is not up for discussion. My performance this season? Six podiums, two wins. If that's what you call being 'distracted,' then maybe I should have been distracted years ago."

His accent grew slightly stronger with emotion, something that only happened when he was truly passionate about what he was saying. "And since you're so interested in timing, let me tell you about timing. The timing of meeting someone who makes you want to be better, who supports you through the hard days, who understands the pressure and still loves you anyway – that's not something any PR team could orchestrate."

A few chuckles rippled through the crowd. Even Lando Norris, who was passing by, couldn't help but grin.

"Mate, if anything, she's made you faster," Lando called out. "Remember when you were single and finished P4 in Saudi? Dark times, dark times indeed. Besides, have you seen them together? If that's PR, then I need to fire my entire media team."

You couldn't help but smile as the tension broke. Charles turned to you, his green eyes soft again, the protective anger melting into that familiar warmth that made your heart skip. A strand of his dark hair had fallen across his forehead, and this time, you didn't resist the urge to brush it back. His eyes darkened slightly at your touch, and before you could process what was happening, he pulled you close.

The kiss wasn't planned or polished for the cameras. It was real and a little messy and perfect – the kind of kiss that said everything words couldn't. His hands cradled your face with the same precision he used on the steering wheel, but so much more tender.

You could feel his heart racing against your palm where it rested on his chest, could taste the mint from his morning coffee, could hear the surprised murmurs and camera clicks around you. But none of it mattered, because Charles was kissing you like you were the finish line he'd been racing toward all his life.

When you finally pulled apart, his forehead rested against yours. "Je t'aime," he murmured, just for you. "Let's get some coffee before practice? There's that little place around the corner... unless you're worried I'll spill it on you again?" His playful smile was back, the one that had made you fall for him in the first place.

As you walked away, his arm protectively around your waist, you could hear Carlos Sainz expertly deflecting the remaining reporters with his characteristic charm. "My teammate's relationship? Why don't we talk about the new upgrades instead? They're much more interesting, I promise you. Or we could discuss how Charles has actually improved his tire management this year – which, by the way, happened after he met her, so maybe we should be thanking her?"

The paddock might be a pressure cooker of speculation and drama, but in moments like these, it felt more like a family – one that protected its own. Even Pierre Gasly, passing by with his race engineer, gave you a supportive nod. "They're just jealous," he said loud enough for the lingering journalists to hear. "Charles is driving better than ever, and they can't stand that their narrative doesn't fit."

Later that afternoon, you watched from the Ferrari garage as Charles attacked the Monaco streets with precision and passion. Each sector time flashed green, then purple. The garage held its collective breath as he crossed the line for his final qualifying lap.

"Pole position, pole position!" his race engineer's voice crackled over the radio. "P1, Charles, P1! Absolutely magnificent lap!"

In parc fermé, he pulled you into another kiss, this one full of adrenaline and joy and full of love. His race suit was damp with champagne from the celebrations, but you didn't care. This was your Charles – not the media's version, not the speculation's target, but the man who had stolen your heart in that coffee shop and continued to amaze you every day.

"See?" he whispered in your ear, still holding you close. "You're not a distraction. You're my strength. My lucky charm. My everything."

The next day's headlines would focus on his blistering lap time, his masterful sector three, his perfect strategy. The negative articles seemed to vanish in the face of his success, though you knew they might return. But it didn't matter anymore – not when you had Charles, not when you had the support of the entire paddock family.

And if anyone still thought you were a distraction, well, the trophy sitting in Charles' Monaco apartment would beg to differ.