isabella¹²

kimi.antonelli Dreams really do come true. Let's get to work!

user8 yall are pissing me tf OFFFFF

lewishamilton Huge congrats mate

user29 truly think kimi's gonna do wonders but this feels so wrong for y/n...

georgerussell63 Welcome, mate 👊 Can't wait to get started

user72 Remember when mercedes said they were "building around y/n?" where tf is that energy now

user12 everyone's blaming kimi when he's literally done nothing lol

user90 why did they let admin post this knowing the comments are going to be MESSY

user53 laurent mekies refreshing the comments like 😋

redbullracing

liked by maxverstappen1, redbull, and 6,329,340 others

redbullracing Oracle Red Bull Racing is delighted to announce the signing of Y/N L/N on a multi-year agreement ahead of the 2026 FIA Formula One World Championship.

A proven race winner with exceptional pace and determination. Welcome to the family.

#RedBullRacing #YNLN #F1

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yourinstagram new beginnings babyyy

user63 TOTO YOU FUMBLED SO BAD

user5 merc basically spoon fed redbull

lando LETS GOOOOOO

lewishamilton Proud of you.

user72 other drivers interacting here more than the other side is kinda...

danielricciardo oh? OH?

user21 how do you even explain horner getting fired then the new tp hiring y/n l/n to a normal person

user4 imagine dropping your race winner only for your rivals to sign her IMMEDIATELY.

user10 admin was READY to post this

Your phone vibrated against your bedside table at exactly 8 AM.

You ignored it, pulling the duvet tighter around your shoulders, trying to cling to the final moments of sleep. Then it buzzed again. And again.

By the time you finally rolled over and blindly reached into the cold air to grab it, the bright light of the screen illuminated the room. It displayed an overwhelming amount of notification.

Your eyes adjusted to the glare, and the first major headline locked into focus.

BREAKING: Mercedes-AMG PETRONAS F1 Team confirms Kimi Antonelli as race driver for the 2026 FIA Formula One World Championship.

For a long second, you forgot to breathe. You didn't like the post. You didn't read the caption. You didn't need to.

Deep down, in the quietest part of your mind, you had known this day was coming for months. But seeing it written out officially still felt like a punch to the face.

Before you could even fully process the quiet sink in your chest, the screen lit up with another notification, overriding the first.

Oracle Red Bull Racing is delighted to announce the signing of Y/N L/N on a multi-year agreement.

For the last six months, your stomach had been in a permanent, tight knot. You had spent half a year waiting for the axe to fall. There had been endless, grueling meetings behind closed doors, hushed conversations in the back of the units, and polite but entirely empty smiles from Toto whenever you passed him.

You had been living in a state of constantly performing while knowing your seat was actively being shopped around.

Mercedes had chosen their teenage prodigy, Kimi.

But Red Bull, the ruthless giants of the grid, had chosen you.

You unlocked your phone, knowing immediately that it was a terrible mistake to do so on a morning like this. Within half a second, your social media feed refreshed itself, instantly descending into madness.

RED BULL SNATCHES MERCEDES STAR Y/N L/N ANTONELLI PROMOTED. L/N DEPARTS IN SHOCK MULTI-YEAR DEAL. WOLFF'S BIGGEST GAMBLE?

You scrolled down, your eyes catching the comment sections, which were updating so rapidly that the text literally blurred.

"Mercedes absolutely bottled it. How do you let a proven race winner walk away just to gamble on a kid? Toto has lost his mind."

"Kimi is the future, it's the right move. Mercedes is playing the long game. People said the same thing about Lewis back in the day."

"This is going to age horribly for Mercedes. Y/N is going to have the biggest advantage on her shoulders now."

"Max is going to absolutely destroy her. No one survives the second seat. It's a career killer."

The official announcements had been live for less than five minutes, and the internet had already mapped out the entire trajectory of your career, predicting either your ultimate downfall or your greatest revenge.

Before you could read any further, an incoming call came. You swiped the screen to answer, immediately putting him on speaker and placing the phone back down on the bed as you sat up, wrapping your arms around your knees.

"You've seen it?" Luca's voice slightly muffled, the low hum of morning traffic in the background suggesting he was already driving to work.

You let out a dry laugh. "I mean it's kind of impossible to miss. I think my phone is about to explode."

"I've had six different journalist call my personal number already," Luca said, his tone in sheer disbelief. "Half of them didn't even say hello! They just started asking if I was going with you."

"Only six?" you teased, trying to put some lightheartedness into the morning. "You're losing your touch. Usually, you're the most popular guy in the paddock."

"Just give it ten minutes," he sighed.

Luca had been your race engineer since the very first weekend you had ever turned the wheel. He was the calm, steady voice in your ear through the highest highs of your first podium and the absolute, miserable lows of failures and bad pit stops.

You two had spent countless late nights locked inside cramped rooms, arguing over strategy, upgrades, and degradation until the security guards had to physically knock on the door and tell you to leave.

He wasn't just your engineer. He was your anchor in a sport that constantly tried to pull you under.

"You okay?" Luca's voice softened, dropping his usual tone.

"I'm relieved, honestly. I didn't think I would be, but the moment they released it, it felt like a massive weight was lifted off my chest."

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. "I was hoping you'd say that."

"And you?" you asked. "How are you feeling about it all?"

"I'm furious," Luca admitted frankly. "You deserved a hell of a lot better than finding out once they've made their decision. They dragged their feet for months, keeping you on the hook while they finalized Kimi's contract. It's straight up disrespectful."

You didn't argue. Because he was entirely right.

Losing the opportunity to continue with Mercedes hurt. But the coldness of how they had handled it, making you play the role of the loyal team player while they secretly prepared your replacement, hurt a lot deeper.

"You know, I'm going to miss working with you," Luca said quietly, his voice cracking just a fraction.

Your throat tightened suddenly. "I'm going to miss yelling at you over the radio."

He laughed. "You mean ignoring my perfectly calculated strategy calls?"

"Luca, I love you, but they were usually terrible strategy calls."

"Hey, they won you races!"

lucaromano

liked by lewishamilton, yourinstagram, and 423,749 others

lucaromano I've been lucky enough to be there for the highs, the lows, the podiums, the celebrations, the frustrating sundays, and the little moments nobody sees.

Wherever you go next, I'll always be cheering.

P.S. Lucky misses you already. 🐶

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user16 oh i know LUCA HATES THEM

user47 race engineer subtweet is crazy

yourinstagram don't make me CRY

yourinstagram i don't think i'll ever find anyone who puts up with me like u do

yourinstagram im cryifn couldn't have asked for a better person next to me through all of this

user82 the fact everyone knows luca and y/n are a package deal 😭

user3 luca being the first person she looks for after getting out of the car will always be my roman empire

user29 they really broke up the best engineer-driver pairing for WHAT

user44 the fact that he NEVER posts and THIS is what he chooses to post

Three hundred miles away, in the heart of London, the cameras were already rolling in the Sky Sports studio.

Naomi Schiff leaned forward in her chair, her expression serious as she looked into the camera.

"I think Mercedes made the biggest gamble of the decade," Naomi said, gesturing with her pen toward the graphics on the screen.

"And let me clarify, this is not a criticism of Kimi. We all know he is an incredibly fast, generational talent. But Mercedes has allowed Y/N L/N, a driver who already knows exactly how to handle the immense pressure of a top-tier team, to walk straight out of their building and into their biggest rival's garage."

Nico Rosberg, sitting directly next to her with his arms crossed, nodded in agreement.

"If I was Red Bull," Nico said, a sharp, knowing smirk on his face, "I'm absolutely popping champagne today. You're getting a driver who's hungry, highly experienced, and massively motivated by how she was treated. Mercedes didn't just lose potential today, they lost guaranteed points to their rivals."

Jenson Button folded his arms, playing devil's advocate to keep the debate going.

"But you have to look at the long-term future here, Nico. Kimi represents the next decade for Mercedes. Sometimes you have to take a massive risk in the present to build the next era."

"The future doesn't score points in the constructors' today, Jenson," Naomi countered. "Red Bull just got significantly stronger, and Mercedes just handed them the perfect match."

By the early afternoon, you were walking through the doors of the Red Bull building in Milton Keynes.

As you walked through the main lobby, mechanics and engineers looked at you. Instead of the polite, formal nods you were used to, you were greeted with broad smiles and enthusiastic waves.

"About time you got here!" a voice shouted.

Another mechanic, dressed in team kit, held up a can of Red Bull, grinning widely. "Welcome to the dark side! I assure you that we have the better parties."

You couldn't help the genuine smile that spread across your face. It felt incredibly warm. It didn't feel like a PR stunt, and it didn't feel forced for the sake of the cameras.

For the first time in over a year, you felt like a driver who was actively wanted, rather than a driver who was simply being tolerated.

Mekies walked beside you, keeping his hands casual in his pockets as he guided you toward the simulator building.

"I told you," Mekies said in a reassuring voice, looking over at you with a small smile. "We wanted you here. We don't sign drivers just to fill a seat or to make up the numbers. We sign them because we believe they can help us win. Remember that."

Before you could reply, the doors of the simulator bay slid open with a soft hiss. Max stepped out, a towel draped over his shoulders, his hair slightly damp from a grueling simulator run.

He spotted you immediately. He didn't wait for his manager to introduce you, he didn't look around to see if any cameras were watching.

He just walked straight over to you and stopped, towering slightly over you.

"So," Max said, wiping his face with the towel.

"So," you replied, tilting you head up slightly and matching his tone.

"It's official, then."

"I guess. No turning back now."

He nodded once, his eyes analyzing your face, looking for any sign of hesitation. "You ready for this?"

"I think so," you said, keeping your voice steady.

Max shrugged, amusement appearing in his eyes. "I hope not. If you already think you're completely ready, this place gets boring very quickly. You have to keep pushing."

"Is that your way of a motivational welcome speech, Max?"

"Yeah," he said simply. "Pretty good, right?"

"Did you practice that in the mirror this morning?"

"No. I don't waste time on that."

"You probably should have," you retorted. "It needs a bit of work."

A grin broke across Max's face. He reached out, shaking your hand with a firm grip. "Welcome to the team, future champ."

yourinstagram via instagram story!

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user86 damn seeing her in any other color is giving me jumpscares honestly

user42 SHE LOOKS GOOD WITH IT IM SORRY YALL

user5 i just stared at this for 5 minutes in silence

lando finally got u in the right color

user21 and to think she was just mercedes' rookie

mercedesamgf1

liked by kimi.antonelli, yourinstagram, and 3,213,300 others

mercedesamgf1 Join us live from the Mercedes-AMG PETRONAS Formula One Team headquarters as we welcome Kimi Antonelli to the race team!

Kimi and George Russell will sit down with the media to discuss the new season, the challenges ahead, and the future of the Silver Arrows.

#F1 #Mercedes #KimiAntonelli #GeorgeRussell

Kimi stood in the main lobby, nervously adjusting the stiff collar of his brand-new team shirt. He looked incredibly younger under the lights that had been set up for the press day, his eyes wide and slightly overwhelmed as he took everyone crammed into the space.

George walked past the media pen, noticing the visible tension in the teenager's shoulders. He reached out, clapping a hand firmly on Kimi's shoulder with an encouraging smile.

"You'll be fine, mate. Just breathe and stick to the talking points."

"Yeah, I'm trying," Kimi muttered, offering a weak smile in return. "But there's so many people."

The moment Kimi sat down, a dozen microphones were instantly thrust into his face.

"Kimi! Do you feel any personal guilt taking Y/N L/N's seat, especially considering how much she has contributed to the development of the cars?"

Kimi blinked, the carefully memorized, media-trained answers completely evaporating from his mind. He looked down, swallowed hard, and tried his absolute best to find words that wouldn't cause a massive headline.

"Look... I don't think any driver ever wants to see another driver lose their seat," Kimi said, his voice quiet. "We all know how hard it is to get to this level. This was a dream opportunity for me and my family, and it was an opportunity I simply couldn't say no to."

Down in Italy, Lewis was sitting in the Ferrari lounge, dressed in his striking new team gear. He was quietly sipping a cup of espresso, watching the live coverage of the Mercedes press day on the screen.

Charles walked past, stopping to look at the screen before glancing at Lewis. "So? What do you think of the big swap?"

Lewis didn't take his eyes off the screen. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, checking his watch with a knowing smile. "I give it exactly an hour before they invent a rivalry between them. They love a good villain story."

He tapped his screen, scrolling through his contacts until he found your name, and hit dial. You answered on the second ring, your voice sounding a bit breathless.

"Congratulations," Lewis said immediately, his familiar voice instantly cutting through the noise in your head.

"Thanks?" you replied. "Congratulations to you, too. I have to say, seeing you in red is still going to take some getting used to."

Lewis chuckled softly. "They're acting like like the championship's starting today. The press is going absolutely crazy."

"It definitely feels chaotic," you admitted. "I haven't even sat in the car yet."

"It's all just noise," Lewis said, his tone turning serious and protective. "You have the whole year to write your story. Don't let them get inside your head."

"I'm trying not to. But it's hard when every second post is comparing my stats to his."

"And they're going to keep doing that," Lewis warned gently. "Every single weekend."

"I know."

"Don't play their game. Show them exactly why you belong in that seat."

f1

liked by redbullracing, mercedesamgf1, and 5,290,401 others

f1 The FIA has officially confirmed the media schedule for the upcoming Formula 1 Pre-Season Testing at the Bahrain International Circuit.

Teams and drivers will take to the track for the first time ahead of the new season, with media sessions, press conferences, and testing programmes scheduled throughout the week.

Full driver appearances and press conference timings are now available.

#F1 #Formula1

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user61 THISLL BE THE FIRST TIME WE SEE Y/N IN A RED BULL GARAGE AND KIMI IN A MERCEDES GARAGE

user3 i love how everyone already knows that the first conference is going to be the most watched non-race event in f1 history

user78 MAX AND Y/N IN MATCHING TEAM GEAR IM READY

By the late afternoon, the FIA officially released the media schedule for the upcoming pre-season testing in Bahrain.

Your phone buzzed again in your hand. It was your personal PR manager, who had been managing your media presence since your MotoGP career.

"Hey, do you have a quick second? I have a slight update regarding the media run."

"Please tell me it's actually a simple update, Ryland," you groaned, leaning your head back. "My brain is completely fried."

"Well... the media delegate just sent over a last-minute change to the seating arrangements for the main stage." Ryland paused, clearing his throat.

"Instead of seating us by teams like they usually do, they've decided to mix the order to create a more 'dynamic visual.' Their words not mine."

You sat up. "What do you mean? How are they mixing it?"

"It means... you'll be sitting directly between Max..."

He hesitated, letting the silence stretch for a beat.

"...and Kimi."

You closed your eyes, letting out a long, slow breath as you rubbed your temples. "You have got to be kidding me."

"I wish I was joking," Ryland said. "Everyone's throwing a party online. They know exactly what they're going to get."

After you hung up, you stared at your blank phone screen for a long moment. You locked your phone, tossed it onto the sofa, and looked out at the rainy night.

Tomorrow, the talking would finally stop. Tomorrow, you'd see them all again. And tomorrow, the real fight would begin.

liked by mclarenf1, lando and others

oscarpiastri at home for a short time

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lando ew what is that creature

oscarpiastri a spider lando no i meant in the second pic

user9 is she your girlfriend or are we all delusional

user10 WE WANT GF CONTENT!!!

user11 not you pretending everything is normal while ur girl hard launched u

user12 oscar… do you have something to tell us? 🤨

user13 so… who’s taking your pictures then? 👀

user14 ofc it’s y/n!

user15 she’s gorgeous btw

liked by user16, deuxmoi and others

yourusername swag

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user17 oscar is so lucky😣

user18 fr! She’s so cool

user19 we want more of oscar!!

user20 tell oscar i say hi

user21 is she oscar’s gf??

user22 probably!

📍Somewhere in Italy

liked by oscarpiastri, user23 and others

yourusername tutto passa

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user24 😍😍

user25 diva in italy

user26 OSCAR IN THE LIKES!!!

user27 for the very first time lmaoo

user28 is oscar with her?

user29 where’s papa

liked by user30, user31 and others

deuxmoi After days of speculation following her Instagram post, Oscar Piastri has finally been spotted with the mystery woman fans have been talking about.

The pair were seen having dinner together in Melbourne, seemingly confirming what many fans had already suspected.

Y/n first went viral after referring to Oscar—her rumored boyfriend—as a “random guy” in her post, a comment fans believe is just an inside joke between the couple.

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user32 THIS IS LITERALLY THE FIRST TIME EVER THEY WERE SPOTTED TOGETHER

user33 THIS IS NOT A DRILL👏🏻👏🏻

user34 I KNEW SHE WAS JOKING WHEN SHE SAID THAT

user35 it was obvious

user36 let’s just call him random guy forever

user37 they’re so cute

user38 I love that everyone collectively decided they’re dating before they confirmed anything

liked by oscarpiastri, lilymhe and others

yourusername don’t mind the random guy in the last photo xx

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user39 NOT HER ACTUALLY CALLING HIM THAT 💀

user40 oh they love that inside joke

oscarpiastri I was going to correct you, but I suppose being your “random guy” isn’t the worst thing 😘 ❤︎ liked by author

user41 THE MAN HIMSELF HAS SPOKEN user42 he knows user43 okay the flirting is LOUD

user44 imagine being Oscar Piastri and your girlfriend’s entire internet introduction is “random guy”

user45 he’s never escaping that nickname

liked by yourusername, lando and others

oscarpiastri don’t mind me in the photos xx

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user46 they’re so funny

user47 i’d say they’re made for each other😩

yousername don’t worry, we don’t mind you babe xx ❤︎ liked by author

user48 okay they’re officially the funniest couple user49 the matching sarcasm is actually insane user50 okay this is actually adorable

user51 “don’t mind me in the photos” bro you posted the photos

user52 he wants us to look at her only 🙄🙄

user53 the commitment to the bit is everything

user54 F1 needs more couples with this level of unseriousness

user55 they’re so annoying (affectionate)

@ yourbestfriend the first pic is actually insane 🔥 ♥︎ by author

@ user she ate and left no crumbs as always

@ user oscar liking this within 2 minutes… sir we see you

@ user not lando and oscar both in the likes I’m screaming

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private message between you and lando

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private message between lando and oscar

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Liked by @ user, @ user, @ yourbestfriend and 40,238 others

@ gossipf1 🚨 Oscar Piastri and Y/N spotted together. The quiet McLaren driver and the party girl were seen getting very close at a club this weekend…Looks like opposites really do attract 👀

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@ user oscar piastri in a club making out??? 2026 is healing

@ user SHE HAS HER ARMS AROUND HIS NECK I’M SCREAMING

@ user OUR BOY MADE ITTTTT!!

@ yourbestfriend 😈😈😈

@ user she’s such a bad influence

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private message between oscar and lando

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private message between you and your best friend

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@ yourusername added to their close friends story

@ landonorris my matchmaking skills are insane

@ yourbestfriend finally someone with taste

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private message between you and oscar

yourusername

liked by daisyedgarjones and 1,824,269 others

yourusername i haven’t slept in 3 days and i’m starting to hallucinate espresso

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username1 pls rest for a week i am begging

username2 need her to be my friend

username3 omg she is so poppy wright coded

⤷ username4 I NEVER THOUGHT ABOUT THIS BUT YOU’RE SO RIGHT ⤷ username5 she’s literally been a fancast for poppy for months why is everyone just now realising ⤷ username6 this is exactly how i pictured poppy traveling ⤷ username7 ok but who would be alex 🤨

username8 booked and busyyyy

username9 my favorite girl

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oscarpiastri Autódromo Hnos. Rodríguez

liked by opeightyone and 712.483 others

oscarpiastri Bring it on

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username1 lock INNN

username2 this caption could apply to literally anything

⤷ username3 race? life? breakfast? we’ll never know ⤷ username4 he’s so unintentionally funny

username5 oh oscar and his love for house music 

username6 alex nilsen if he was a formula 1 driver

⤷ username7 WAIT 😭 ⤷ username8 no because why does that fit ⤷ username9 booktok is gonna find this and ruin my life

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oscarpiastri

liked by yourusername and 887.985 others

oscarpiastri In my usual hiding place

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username1 locked in 😮‍💨

username2 REMEMBER WHO YOU ARE

username3 this is your alex nielsen yourusername

⤷ username4 SHE LIKED THE POST CAN YOU HEAR ME SCREAMING ⤷ username5 WAIT WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE LIKED IT ⤷ username6 oh she definitely saw the tweets

username7 PLS HAVE A COMEBACK

username8 i love the booktwt girlies but can you guys relax we’re trying to win a championship here

⤷ username9 let us have this one thing

username10 yourusername girl what are you doing here

username11 the way he has no idea what’s happening on twitter rn is sending me

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ynupdates

liked by username1, username2 and 322,547 others

ynupdates Y/N L/N and Oscar Piastri, Formula 1 driver for Mclaren, are now following each other on Instagram.

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username1 IT’S HAPPENING

username2 they’re probably laughing at us so bad

⤷ username3 i hope they are ⤷ username4 at least they’re aware of each other now

username5 i love the election of pics you guys always use

⤷ ynupdates Thank you. We take this very seriously.

username6 omg he is so cute y/n proceed

username7 i need to know who followed who first this is important information

⤷ ynupdates Y/N followed first. We have screenshots with timestamps if needed. ⤷ username8 YNUPDATES IS A JOURNALIST

username9 me explaining to my friends why this is a big deal

username10 he’s probably so confused 😭😭

username11 my worlds colliding!!

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oscarpiastri

liked by yourusername and 745,283 others

oscarpiastri All set for Interlagos 🇧🇷

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username1 been doing some serious witchcraft to manifest a good race for you

username2 oscar pls bring home a good result

username3 please loooock in 😭

username4 Y/N LIKED!!!

username5 it’s so nice to see you smiling

username6 omfg oscar piastri lock in... y/n is watching... don’t embarass us

⤷ username7 so real like... she was an oscar nominee last year... oscar LOCK TF IN ⤷ username8 IM CRYINGGGG my poor polite cat

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yourusername has updated their story.

❤︎ liked by oscarpiastri and others

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oscarpiastri Why are you in Australia

⤷ yourusername HELLO TO YOU TOO i’m here for press stuff for my movie why do you sound so accusatory

oscarpiastri Just surprised I’m from Melbourne

⤷ yourusername WAIT YOU’RE AUSTRALIAN??? how did i not know this

oscarpiastri This explains a lot actually

⤷ yourusername i genuinely thought you were british i’m learning so much this week

oscarpiastri Okay that’s really offensive

⤷ yourusername i’m so sorry please forgive me citizen of australia mate crikey is that better

oscarpiastri Stop 😂 How’s the book going?

⤷ yourusername it’s in my suitcase i just haven’t... opened it yet

oscarpiastri It’s been a week since we talked

⤷ yourusername I KNOW i’m a fraud have you started it?

oscarpiastri I’m on chapter 8

⤷ yourusername WHAT how do you have time i feel like i’m missing out

oscarpiastri No rush We can talk about it when you catch up

⤷ yourusername i’m gonna start it tonight after my last interview

oscarpiastri Let me know what you think

⤷ yourusername i will good luck this weekend, i saw you were in brazil!!

oscarpiastri Thanks! Enjoy Australia

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yourusername Sydney, Australia

liked by oscarpiastri and 1,557,025 others

yourusername someone sent me pink roses because they mean appreciation so i’m appreciating how i haven’t tripped in these heels yet

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username1 FIRST I’D SELL MY FAMILY FOR U

⤷ yourusername PLEASE DON’T DO THAT ILY

username2 somehow this is her most normal post

username3 OSCAR IN THE LIKES

username4 who got you flowers 🤨

⤷ username5 ASKING THE REAL QUESTIONS ⤷ username6 pink roses mean admiration too ⤷ username7 but they’re also given as a romantic gesture i’m just saying

username7 WHY IS OSCAR PIASTRI IN THE LIKES. my man is cheating on me...

⤷ username8 oscarpiastri explain yourself

username9 hope you’re drinking water

username10 oscar piastri liking this while preparing for a triple header is crazy multitasking

⤷ username11 omg leave him alonee

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letterboxd

liked by oscarpiastri and 785,254 others

letterboxd We asked Y/N L/N for her top 3 films of the year so far and she said, "I honestly don’t know. I’ve been reading more than watching lately and I feel guilty about it."

Read the full interview on our bio!

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username1 words cannot express how much I LOVE HER

username2 she’s reading more??? we need the book list IMMEDIATELY

⤷ username3 i will read whatever she recommends

goodreads we’ll take good care of her

username4 OSCAR PIASTRI I SEE YOU

username5 is it people we meet on vacation...

⤷ username6 IT HAS TO BE ⤷ username7 what else would she be reading right now

username8 booked and busy (real)

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oscarpiastri Las Vegas

liked by yourusername and 828,394 others

oscarpiastri Throwing it back to my RC days

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username1 brb gonna cry about how cute this is

opeightyone This might be our favourite 🥹

username2 i can’t handle this SO CUTE

yourusername little oscar was cool ❤︎ liked by author

⤷ username3 YN COMMENTED ⤷ username4 I’M NOT BREATHING I JUST DIED OMG ⤷ username5 please someone confirm this is real ⤷ username6 i think i’m hallucinating ⤷ username9 someone sedate me immediately

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op81content

liked by ynupdates and 304,581 others

op81content GUYS I just met Oscar and he was having dinner with Y/N L/N. It was the best day of my life, they were both so kind and made time to take pics :)

I didn’t want to be annoying but Oscar noticed me staring and he stopped. He is so humble, we talked while he signed my phone case. Y/N hugged me. I kept apologizing for bothering them and they BOTH told me it was totally fine. I swear they were the kindest people ever.

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ynupdates We need to collab

⤷ op81content YES ⤷ username1 THE UPDATE ACCOUNTS WORKING TOGETHER I'M CRYING

username2 the fact that he noticed her staring and stopped 😭

username3 omg i didn’t know she was in las vegas???

⤷ username4 SAME i thought she was still in uk ⤷ username5 she finished press tour last week

username6 Y/N HUGGED YOU I’M SO JEALOUS

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yourusername updated their story.

❤︎ liked by yourbff and others

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friend1 please tell me you didn’t fly across the country to NOT make a move on this guy

⤷ yourusername i’m here to watch a race and support a friend who is literally doing his JOB ⤷ friend1 “support a friend” ok poppy wright

friend3 you look hot

⤷ yourusername thank you i tried

username1 YOU LOOK STUNNING

username2 omg you’re really there. have the best time!!

username3 YOU AND OSCAR PLEASE

──── ୨ৎ ────

yourusername Las Vegas

liked by oscarpiastri and 3,785,254 others

yourusername lost all my money 💔 every like is one dollar c’mon guys help me

view all comments

username1 you’re so unserious i love you

oscarpiastri I’ll spot you ❤︎ liked by author

⤷ username2 HELLO??? ⤷ username3 EXCUSE ME???? ⤷ username4 OSCAR??? ⤷ username5 i just dropped my phone ⤷ username6 he did not need to be that polite and sweet ⤷ username7 this is actually insane behavior ⤷ username8 poppyalex nation just fainted ⤷ username9 i fear this is becoming real life

username10 SO GORGEOUS PLS GIVE ME ONE CHANCE

username11 lost all your money huh

⤷ yourusername tragic :( ⤷ username12 was it actually gambling or shopping ⤷ yourusername yes

username13 why are you holding a bra on a park bench at night

⤷ yourusername it’s a long story

username14 the first pic is sus...

⤷ username15 we know who it is ⤷ username16 especially after oscar’s comment

──── ୨ৎ ────

yourusername updated their story.

❤︎ liked by oscarpiastri and others

view all replies

username1 going to see this movie only for you

username2 ARE YOU DATING OSCAR??

username3 ommm you will teleport to qatar for the race 🧘‍♀️

username4 i thought she was going to be in the race today :((

──── ୨ৎ ────

f1wags

liked by username1, username2 and 67,892 others

f1wags Oscar Piastri’s WAG spotted arriving at Yas Marina Circuit for quali! She was notably absent from the Qatar GP last week, but has returned for the season finale.

This is her second race appearance, sparking speculation about their relationship status. Thoughts?

view all comments

username1 she’s back!!

username2 calling her a wag when she just had a movie premiere😭

username3 "oscar piastri’s wag" put some respect on her name

⤷ username4 she’s literally more famous than him...

username5 love that she’s supporting him<3

username6 if oscar loses i’m blaming her

⤷ username7 ??? leave her alone ⤷ username8 why do people love blaming women for men’s results

username9 so cute she’s supporting him<3

username10 i don’t think she’s right for him, they’re too different

──── ୨ৎ ────

f1

liked by mclaren, redbullracing and 5,472,690 others

f1 Through it all. ❤️

tagged user: lando, magui_corceiro, maxverstappen1, kellypiquet, oscarpiastri, yourusername

view all comments

username1 F1 HARD LAUNCHED OSCAR AND Y/N I’M SCREAMING

username2 let’s post the championship celebrations AND hard launch oscar’s relationship in one post

⤷ username3 the audacity

username4 this is actually hilarious because they were clearly avoiding confirming anything

username5 not even deuxmoi or tmz... FORMULA ONE

username6 i feel like we all knew but seeing it on the OFFICIAL F1 ACCOUNT hits different

username7 i’m convinced the f1 admin is a y/n stan ❤︎ liked by author

username8 PR teams everywhere just fell to their knees

──── ୨ৎ ────

oscarpiastri

liked by yourusername and 889,758 others

oscarpiastri Lots achieved. Lots learnt. Coming back stronger next year

view all comments

username1 and we will be THERE #hOPium

username2 you had an incredible season osc!!

username3 next year is yours BRING ON 2026 

yourusername i’m proud of you ❤️ ❤︎ liked by author

⤷ username4 Y/N 😭😭😭 ⤷ username5 he won for life ⤷ username6 i’m not crying u are crying ⤷ username7 this is so sweetttt :') ⤷ username8 she can be serious when she needs to be😭

username7 future world champion <3

──── ୨ৎ ────

yourusername posted a new tiktok on their account.

yourusername get yourself a man who does ur hair

🎵 original sound · yourusername

❤️ 2.3 mill · 💬 22.6 mil · 📁 150 mil · ↗️ 80.5 mil

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username1 is that oscar

⤷ yourusername i don’t know anyone named oscar ⤷ username2 HELP 😭 ⤷ username3 not a single serious bone in her body

username4 ok but where are you going

⤷ yourusername outside

username5 please never get media trained

username6 book recommendations pls

⤷ yourusername people we meet on vacation ⤷ username7 DID YOU DO THAT ON PURPOSE ⤷ yourusername oops no it was a typo ⤷ username8 girl you cannot keep doing this to us

username9 are we just pretending we didn’t saw the pic posted on the F1 OFFICIAL account

⤷ yourusername what pic ⤷ username10 SHE’S GASLIGHTING US

username11 are you going to the fia awards with oscar

⤷ yourusername the only oscar i care about is the golden one

──── ୨ৎ ────

──── ୨ৎ ────

oscarpiastri and yourusername updated their story.

❤︎ liked by yourbff and others

view all replies

yourbff YOU TWO ARE SO UNSERIOUS PLS STOP

username1 are we supposed to believe this is a coincidence

username2 someone take their phones away

──── ୨ৎ ────

oscarpiastri

liked by yourusername and 2,658,047 others

oscarpiastri Off season ☀️

view all comments

yourusername you finally learned how to take good photos of me

username1 THEY'RE HOLDING HANDS IN PIC 2 I'M SICK

username2 omg he took pictures of HER not the sunset 🥺🥺🥺🥺

username3 MY POPPYALEX <3

⤷ username4 this is literally a romcom ⤷ username5 yes omg i can't believe poppyalex is canon

username6 this feels illegal i wasn’t prepared i thought they were going to make fun of us forever

f1 😍😍😍

⤷ username7 F1 IN THE COMMENTS???? ⤷ username8 they really said we support this relationship

username9 congrats to poppyalex nation we won

──── ୨ৎ ────

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri and 3,581,250 others

yourusername so about that fancast...

view all comments

oscarpiastri Why are you like this

⤷ yourusername you knew what you were getting into ⤷ oscarpiastri I didn’t ⤷ yourusername fake news

username1 someone stop her she’s too funny ❤︎ liked by author

username2 this is the most yn thing ever i’m crying

username3 oscar: here’s my beautiful girlfriend at sunset 🥺 yn: look at this dork eating

oscarpiastri I would like to formally request a nicer post next time

⤷ yourusername wdym there’s no next time ⤷ username4 SHE’S EVIL

username5 the fancast actually won

username007 : that’s not dislike that’s unresolved feelings btw

liked by f1gossipgirls

username775 : can anyone catch me up here??

↳ username110 : max and yn used to be teammates and had like a brocedes level rivalry if not worse, they could not STAND each other. they had a crash, yn got seriously injured and was forced into retirement and max was fine. but honestly i choose to believe they hate each other so bad because they are in love with each other. there were rumors that they were dating and the 'hate each other' act was to hide it. because if you watch old interviews, there is so much TENSION. and honestly after yn's crash, max became even more max than he already was. like mans turned into a monster. to say their history is complicated is an understatement.

liked and pinned by f1gossipgirls

mclarenfan4 : oh we taking that constructors and drivers peacefully thank you

username002 : this is either going to win us the title or implode spectacularly. i feel like a ferrari fan

liked by f1gossipgirls

username11 : mans is SICK to his stomach.

username78 : imagine showing up to work and your ex rival/situationship is your new boss.

username005 : max already fighting for his life and the season hasn’t started

↳ username101 : that man was blinking like he saw a ghost

username11110 : the interview had me on the floor

↳ username424 : the way he paused before saying her NAMEEE

₊˚⊹ ☆ ‧₊˚₊˚⊹ ☆ ‧₊˚₊˚⊹ ☆ ‧₊˚₊˚⊹ ☆ ‧₊˚₊˚⊹ ☆ ‧₊˚₊˚⊹ ☆ ‧₊˚

eight years ago

You’re twenty. Too young, they say. Too sharp. Too emotional. Too much.

You’ve just stepped off the top step of the podium, champagne still drying in your hair, trophy heavy in your hands. The cameras loved it — the smirk, the wink, the deliberate glance down the grid toward the garage. Toward him.

Max Verstappen stands with his helmet tucked under his arm, jaw tight, eyes tracking you like you’ve just committed a crime. You beat him by three tenths. You defend the win like it’s war.

And in the media pen, when the interviewer asks how it feels to beat your teammate again, you lean back in your chair and say, sweetly: “I don’t see teammates. I see competition.”

You don’t look at him. You don’t have to. You can feel the way the air shifts. It’s an hour later when your driver's room door slams open. You don’t even jump.

“You’re unbelievable,” he snaps.

You’re sitting cross-legged on the couch, still in team kit, scrolling through your phone like he’s a mild inconvenience.

“Hi, Maxie.”

“Don’t.”

He paces once. Twice. Stops in front of you.

“You embarrassed the team.”

You laugh. It’s sharp. “I won the race.”

“You don’t have to act like I’m beneath you.”

“Then stop driving like you are.”

Silence. Thick and volatile. He steps closer.

“You think you’re better than me?”

You stand now, nose almost brushing his. “No. I know I am.”

It’s cruel. You know it’s cruel. You say it anyway. His hands flex at his sides.

“One day,” he says lowly, “you’re going to push too far.”

“Maybe,” you whisper. “But you’ll still be behind me, Verstappen.”

You don’t know who moves first. Maybe you both do.

The shove is small but intentional. Your back hits the wall. His hands catch your arms like he didn’t mean to hold you — but he doesn’t let go. You’re breathing too hard.

“I fucking hate you,” he says.

“Good.”

Your mouth crashes into his before either of you can take it back.

It’s not soft. It’s not sweet. It’s teeth and anger and months of unfinished sentences. It’s hands fisting into fabric and the taste of champagne and pride and resentment.

You pull away first. Because you always do.

“Get out,” you tell him.

He stares at you like he wants to say something else. He doesn’t. The door closes.

The next morning, You don’t speak. As always.

present day

The phone rings at 2:17 a.m. You stare at it for a long time before answering.

“YN, we need you.”

The voice is clinical. Urgent. All too familiar.

Red Bull is spiraling. Sponsors nervous. Structure fractured. Christian Horner is gone.

There’s a pause.

“Team principal.”

Your laugh is hollow. “You’re joking.”

“Absolutely not. I don't have time to joke, YN.”

And suddenly you’re not in your quiet penthouse anymore. You’re back in the cockpit. The smell of fuel. The vibration through your spine. The corner that never straightened the way it should have— The flash of white. The crunch of carbon fiber. Silence.

Your hands start shaking. You swallow.

“You’re asking a retired driver. Must be desperate."

“I'm asking a World Champion.”

A beat.

“And I'm asking the only person he’s ever truly listened to.”

Him. Of course.

Your mind betrays you with the memory of his mouth on yours. Of the way he used to look at you like you were something he had to defeat or devour.

You close your eyes.

“Send the contract.”

—

The Red Bull conference room hasn’t changed. Same long table. Same muted lighting. Same air of calculation. Engineers line the walls. Strategy team at the far end.

And at the head of the table—him. Older now. Sharper. Colder. Max Verstappen doesn’t stand when you walk in. But Isack Hadjar does. Immediately. His chair nearly scrapes the floor.

“It’s an honor,” isack blurts, eyes bright. “I used to watch your championship season on repeat.”

Your lips soften despite yourself. “Don’t make me feel old.”

He grins like you just handed him the world. Max doesn’t smile. He watches. Assessing.

You take the seat at the head of the table without asking permission.

“Let’s be clear,” you begin. “I’m not here to babysit. I’m here to win.”

Slides appear. Data. Projections. Weaknesses. You cut through it all.

“Our corner entry is too conservative. We’re bleeding tenths on exit. I want the rear stability adjusted before Imola.”

One of the senior engineers hesitates. “That’s risky.”

“So is losing.”

Silence. You glance at max.

“Thoughts?”

His jaw ticks. “It’ll make the car unpredictable.”

“Only if you’re not precise.”

It’s a challenge. The room feels it. His eyes narrow.

“I’m precise.”

“Then you better prove it to me.”

Isack is practically vibrating.

“This is going to be insane,” he mutters under his breath.

The meeting ends with a mix of awe and tension. Chairs scrape. Voices murmur. Isack lingers.

“Seriously,” he says quietly, “this is the coolest thing that could have happened to this team.”

You smile at him gently. “Focus on your lap times, Hadjar.”

He nods eagerly and disappears with the others. The door clicks shut. And it’s just you and Max. The air shifts instantly. He stands slowly.

“Team principal,” he says flatly.

“My senior driver.”

He steps closer to the table.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

Your pulse spikes. “Why? Afraid that you'll lose control of your team?"

“This isn’t funny.”

“It wasn’t meant to be.”

A beat.

“You left,” he says, and there’s something under it now. Something less controlled. “You don’t get to just come back.”

Your throat tightens.

“I didn’t leave by choice.”

“You could have fought.”

“I almost died.”

The words land heavy. He looks away first. Silence stretches.

“Why did you take the job?” He asks quietly.

You hold his gaze.

“Because I’m not done winning.”

That’s not the full truth. He knows it. He steps closer until the edge of the table presses into your hips. Too close. Just like eight years ago.

“Don’t play games with me,” he murmurs.

“Then stop reacting to me like this.”

His hand twitches like he’s debating reaching for you. He doesn’t.

“This won’t end well,” he says.

You tilt your head.

“It never does with us.”

His eyes drop to your mouth for half a second. There it is. The ghost of twenty years old. Champagne. Anger. Bitterness. Unfinished.

He steps back first this time.

“You’re my boss,” he says, like it tastes wrong.

“And you’re still my biggest problem.”

A flicker of something almost like a smile touches his lips.

“Good,” he says softly. “I was worried you’d gone soft.”

You don’t breathe until he leaves the room. And when the door closes, you realize the real problem isn’t the team. It’s that nothing between you has ever been simple. And it still isn’t.

₊˚⊹ ☆ ‧₊˚₊˚⊹ ☆ ‧₊˚₊˚⊹ ☆ ‧₊˚₊˚⊹ ☆ ‧₊˚₊˚⊹ ☆ ‧₊˚₊˚⊹ ☆ ‧₊˚

several weeks later

You learn very quickly that winning a championship is easier than rebuilding an empire. The paddock is loud. Not physically — not yet. Testing has not even begun — but online, in interviews, in whispered phone calls between sponsors and executives.

“She has no management experience.”

“Her and Max won't be able to get along.”

“She retired. That means she couldn’t handle it.”

You read none of it. You hear all of it.

Inside, the atmosphere is split clean down the middle. Half the staff look at you like you are salvation. The other half look at you like you are a risk assessment.

You strip the strategy department down within days. Two senior analysts are reassigned. You bring in a younger data engineer who had been buried in simulation work. You demand shorter debriefs. Sharper communication. Fewer politics.

You do not raise your voice. That unsettles them more.

In the design office, you stand over schematics with sleeves rolled up, pointing at the rear suspension geometry.

“We are sacrificing rotation for comfort,” you say calmly. “Comfort does not win championships.”

An older engineer shifts. “Instability doesn’t either.”

You meet his eyes. “Instability in the wrong hands doesn’t.”

A pointed silence. Everyone knows who the right hands are.

The first official media day is brutal. Cameras flash as you step to the podium, composed in navy tailoring that still feels foreign compared to race suits.

A reporter clears his throat.

“You’re the youngest team principal on the grid. What makes you think you’re ready?”

You smile faintly.

“I’ve raced against most of the grid. I’ve beaten some of them. I understand pressure. I understand failure. And I understand this team.”

Another question.

“Isn’t there concern about your personal history with your lead driver?”

There it is.

You don’t blink.

“My personal history is irrelevant. Performance is not.”

Across the media pen, you see him. Max is being asked the same questions. He leans back in his chair, expression flat.

“What do you think about her appointment?”

A pause.

“It doesn’t matter what I think,” he says evenly. “She’s a world champion. That doesn’t disappear.”

The room stills slightly.

Another reporter pushes. “But you seemed less than impressed when it was announced.”

His jaw tightens.

“I’m impressed by results. Let her work.”

He stands before they can dig further. He does not look at you. But he did not let them question you. And that is louder than praise.

The factory becomes your battlefield. You arrive before sunrise. Leave long after the lights in the simulator room go dark. In the corridors, you catch fragments of conversation that cut off when you approach.

“She’s changing too much too fast.”

“It’s reckless.”

“Maybe this is temporary.”

And then there are others —

“You see her in the sim? She still knows exactly what the car needs.”

“She caught that brake bias issue before telemetry did.”

“Max is sharper already.”

The split grows visible. You can feel it in meetings. In how some people avoid eye contact. In how others straighten when you enter a room. And in how he watches. Always watching.

It happens on a Thursday afternoon. The final aerodynamic package before testing is locked in — conservative, stable, safe.

You stare at the data projected across the wall. Then you shake your head.

“No.”

The room freezes.

“We are scrapping the secondary floor concept. I want the aggressive spec.”

An audible inhale from the head of aero.

“That hasn’t been validated at high speed tracks.”

“It doesn’t need to be,” you reply. “It needs to outperform.”

“It could destabilize rear traction.”

“It will increase downforce in medium speed corners. That’s where we’re bleeding lap time.”

Silence. You make the call. Within an hour, the entire factory knows. Within two, so does he.

Your office door opens without a knock. Of course it does.

You do not look up immediately. “You could try knocking.”

“You changed the floor.”

His voice is controlled, but only barely.

You close the file in front of you and finally meet his gaze.

“Yes.”

He steps inside, shutting the door behind him. “That spec isn’t stable.”

“It’s faster.”

“It’s unpredictable.”

“It’s responsive.”

His jaw ticks. “You’re gambling.”

You stand slowly, circling the desk.

“I am optimizing.”

“You’re not the one driving it.”

The words land harder than he means them to. You stop a foot away from him.

“No,” you say evenly. “I’m the one responsible if you don’t win.”

His eyes darken. “This isn’t about ego.”

“It never is with you.”

He takes a step closer.

“You think I can’t handle it?”

“I think,” you say quietly, “that you don’t like not being the one making the final call.”

Silence thickens.

He is close enough that you can see the faint scar near his eyebrow from years ago. Close enough that you remember what it felt like to stand like this before.

“This car needs to be drivable,” he insists.

“It needs to be dominant.”

“And if it spins?”

“Then you adapt.”

His eyes flash. “You’re asking for perfection.”

“I’m expecting it.”

A charged beat.

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t get to treat me like I’m your teammate again.”

“And you don’t get to pretend you haven’t always driven better when someone pushes you.”

That stops him.

His gaze sharpens, searching your face.

“You think this makes me better?”

“I know it does.”

The air shifts. Not soft. Not warm. But electric.

He steps closer again, until the edge of your desk presses against the back of your thighs. There is less than a breath of space between you now.

“You’re not in the car,” he says lowly. “You don’t feel it.”

Your pulse stutters — not from fear. From proximity.

“I don’t need to feel it,” you reply, voice steady. “I know you.”

A flicker. Something unguarded. Gone just as quickly.

“You’re wrong,” he mutters.

You turn, reaching for your tablet, pulling up telemetry overlays from last season.

“You overcorrect under pressure in high-speed entries,” you say calmly. “This package forces commitment. It eliminates your hesitation.”

“I don’t hesitate.”

You slide the data toward him.

“You did. Three times in Suzuka. Twice in Silverstone.”

He stares at the screen. Then, quietly:

“…That was wind.”

“It was doubt.”

His eyes lift slowly to yours. You don’t look away. He studies you for a long moment — weighing, calculating, remembering. Finally, he exhales through his nose.

“If this backfires—”

“It won’t.”

“That’s not certainty.”

“That’s trust.”

Another pause.

He shakes his head slightly, but there is no anger left in it now.

“Everyone’s saying you’re changing too much.”

“I am.”

“They think it’s reckless.”

You tilt your head. “Do you?”

His gaze softens — just barely.

“No.”

The admission hangs between you.

“They don’t know you like I do,” he adds, almost as an afterthought.

Your throat tightens unexpectedly.

“That’s not an advantage,” you say quietly.

“It is.”

For a second, neither of you move.

There is no kiss. No touch. Just heat and unfinished history and the shared understanding that you have always brought out something sharper in each other. He steps back first.

“When testing starts,” he says, regaining composure, “I’ll drive it your way.”

You nod once.

“And when it’s faster?”

His mouth twitches faintly.

“Then I’ll tell the press it was my idea.”

You almost smile.

“Of course you will.”

He reaches the door, then pauses without turning around.

“They’re wrong about you,” he says.

Before you can respond, he leaves. The door clicks shut.

Outside your office, the factory continues buzzing — divided, doubtful, restless. Inside, you allow yourself one slow breath. He does not like that you are here. He does not like that you challenge him. But when it matters — He stands beside you. And that might be the most dangerous thing of all.

₊˚⊹ ☆ ‧₊˚₊˚⊹ ☆ ‧₊˚₊˚⊹ ☆ ‧₊˚₊˚⊹ ☆ ‧₊˚₊˚⊹ ☆ ‧₊˚₊˚⊹ ☆ ‧₊˚

several weeks into the season

yourusername

liked by kellypiquet, redbullracing, isackhadjar, francolapinto and 3,570,000 others.

yourusername : winning tastes just as sweet as i remember.

-

view 209,000 other comments.

redbullracing : and you make winning look even better 😻

liked by yourusername

↳ yourusername : raise for you admin !!!!!

liked by redbullracing

username00 : im sorry on behalf of anyone who ever doubted you queen, this car is fucking insane.

liked by redbullracing, yourusername and isackhadjar

username101 : kelly in the likes???

↳ username105 : clearly yn and max have gotten over their differences. it has been years.

↳ username005 : mmm im not completely sold.

↳ username101 : i am. max looks at yn like she makes his entire world spin.

↳ username500 : he HAS ALWAYS LOOKED AT HER THAT WAY.

↳ username10010 : imagine being kelly and reading all these comments about your man and his boss.

↳ username1515 : don't make that face kelly piquet

isackhadjar : la reine🏎️

liked by redbullracing and yourusername

₊˚⊹ ☆ ‧₊˚₊˚⊹ ☆ ‧₊˚₊˚⊹ ☆ ‧₊˚₊˚⊹ ☆ ‧₊˚₊˚⊹ ☆ ‧₊˚₊˚⊹ ☆ ‧₊˚

The car is a monster. Not temperamental. Not fragile. Not theoretical. A monster.

From the moment testing began, the numbers spoke for themselves. The aggressive floor spec you forced through the factory transformed the rear stability under load. Medium speed corners — once your weakness — are now your advantage. High speed sections look effortless.

The paddock shifts quickly when something works. Doubt turns into admiration. Admiration turns into fear.

You stand on the pit wall in as Max threads the car between barriers like it was built around him. The timing screens glow purple sector after purple sector.

The engineers behind you exchange looks that say it without words: She was right.

When he crosses the line first, you do not celebrate wildly. You remove your headset calmly, nod once, and allow yourself a small breath.

He climbs from the cockpit and does not look at you immediately. He looks at the car. Then he looks at you. There is something unspoken there — acknowledgment, maybe. You do not let it linger.

The press cannot help themselves.

“He’s too aggressive.”

“Is this sustainable?”

“Are you concerned about how hard he’s pushing?”

You sit straight backed under the lights.

“If you want safe sport,” you say coolly, “go watch golf.”

There is a ripple through the room.

A reporter presses further. “He nearly lost the rear in Turn Three. Isn’t that risky?”

You fold your hands.

“He didn’t lose it.”

Across the media room, Max hears every word. Later, when they ask him about your comment, he shrugs.

“She’s right.”

He does not elaborate. He does not need to.

Publicly, you are composed. Strategic. Loyal. Privately, you are ruthless.

After the last win, you stand in the engineering office reviewing footage. He walks in without announcement.

“You wanted to see me.”

You gesture to the screen.

“Turn Three.”

He exhales lightly. “I won.”

“You nearly overcooked entry.”

“I had it.”

“You got greedy.”

His eyes narrow.

“I wasn’t greedy.”

“You were chasing an extra tenth.”

“That’s my job.”

“Not when it compromises exit speed.”

He hates it. He hates that you can see it. He hates that you are right.

“You don’t trust me,” he says quietly.

“I trust you to push,” you reply. “I don’t trust you to stop.”

Silence. His jaw tightens. Then, reluctantly:

“…I’ll adjust it.”

He hates that he listens. But he does.

-

Success does not soften you. If anything, it sharpens you both. You refuse to let him get comfortable. After a dominant win, you greet him in debrief with a raised brow.

“You missed apex in Six.”

“I was managing tires.”

“You were showing off.”

A flicker of annoyance.

“You enjoyed it.”

“That’s irrelevant.”

He steps closer to the table.

“You’re impossible.”

“And you’re predictable.”

The engineers pretend not to hear. You defend him to the world and challenge him in private. He pretends he resents it. But he drives better. Cleaner. Sharper. The championship lead grows. And naturally so does the tension. Especially when Kelly appears in the garage.

At first, she likes you. She has no reason not to.

You are professional. Polite. Distant in the right ways. You give her a courteous smile in the paddock, compliment her dress once.

She thanks you for giving him a car that can win.

“That’s all that matters,” she says lightly.

You nod. “It always has.”

She knows you and Max had history. Everyone does. Rivals. Teammates. Complicated. But she assumes it is contained. Ancient. Dead.

At first, she only notices small things. He watches your interviews back at night. He replays them. Analyzes them. When reporters question your authority, his shoulders stiffen. When someone implies your success is tied to him, he bristles.

“You talk about her a lot,” Kelly says one evening, seated across from him at dinner.

Max doesn’t look up from his plate.

“She is Team Principal.”

Kelly tilts her head.

“I feel like that is not all she is to you. There is history, Max."

He doesn’t answer. And that silence says more than anything else could.

You begin to notice it too. Not from her. From him. The way he lingers in your office doorway a second longer than necessary.

The way his tone changes when you go colder. Because you do go colder.

You realize it in Spain. You are standing on the pit wall when he wins again, flawless this time, surgical in execution.

He removes his helmet and looks toward you instinctively. You do not meet his gaze.

You are suddenly aware — painfully aware — that you are proud of him in a way that is no longer purely professional.

It unsettles you. So in debrief, you are sharper than usual.

“You lifted slightly in Nine.”

He frowns. “It was optimal.”

“You could have carried more speed.”

“You’re nitpicking.”

“Yes.”

He studies you.

“You’re different,” he says quietly once the room empties.

“I’m consistent.”

“No. You’re colder.”

You turn away, stacking papers.

“You’re imagining things.”

He steps closer.

“I know when you’re pushing me.”

“And?”

“And you’re doing it harder now.”

Your fingers still on the desk.

“That’s my job.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

The air tightens. You do not give him anything.

“Focus on the next race,” you say evenly. “The walls don’t forgive mistakes.”

His eyes search your face.

“You’re trying to prove something.”

“Always.”

He exhales slowly.

“You don’t have to compete with me anymore.”

The words hit deeper than intended. You lift your chin.

“I never competed with you.”

A lie. He knows it. And instead of softening, he leans into it. If you are colder, he becomes sharper. If you withhold, he provokes. During qualifying in Monaco, he delivers a lap that borders on violent precision.

On the radio, he says calmly, “Good call on the setup.”

You answer, equally calm, “Don’t overdrive the exit tomorrow.”

A pause.

“…I won’t.”

He listens. He always listens.

Kelly watches the changes accumulate. He is more distracted. More intense. He brings up your strategy decisions mid-conversation.

“She adjusted the brake migration for sector two.”

Kelly sets down her glass.

“You admire her.”

“She knows what she’s doing.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

He rubs a hand across his jaw.

“She pushes me.”

Kelly’s voice is soft but steady.

“I see that.”

A beat.

“And you like it.”

He doesn’t answer. Again.

The distance you try to create only makes everything more volatile. You challenge him harder in meetings. You interrupt him mid-sentence. You refuse to let praise linger. After another dominant win, he corners you in the corridor.

“Why are you acting like I’m underperforming?”

“You’re capable of more.”

“I’m leading the championship.”

“You’re capable of more.”

He steps closer, voice lowering.

“Is this about the car?”

“It’s about you.”

Silence.

He studies you carefully now.

“You’re scared of something.”

The accusation lands.

“I’m not scared.”

“Yes, you are.”

Your pulse betrays you. Like it always used to.

“You think I don’t see it?” he continues. “You defend me to the world, then freeze me out when it’s just us.”

“That’s called professionalism.”

“That’s not what this is.”

You take a step back.

“It’s nothing.”

But it isn’t nothing. And he knows it. He always has. He straightens slightly, expression sharpening.

“Fine,” he says. “If you want distance, I’ll give you distance.”

But he doesn’t. Instead, he drives harder. Smarter. He brings you victories like offerings. And every time you hand him data and corrections and clinical praise, the tension coils tighter.

Because success has only amplified what was already there. Unfinished. Unspoken. And becoming impossible to ignore.

₊˚⊹ ☆ ‧₊˚₊˚⊹ ☆ ‧₊˚₊˚⊹ ☆ ‧₊˚₊˚⊹ ☆ ‧₊˚₊˚⊹ ☆ ‧₊˚₊˚⊹ ☆ ‧₊˚

The season settled into sharp rhythm. Win. Pressure. Scrutiny. Repeat. But beneath the success, beneath the polished press conferences and controlled debriefs, something far more dangerous begins to surface.

Not scandal. Not collapse. Temptation.

It happens the first time the car betrays you. Not dramatically. Not catastrophically. Just enough.

A mistimed yellow flag. Traffic in the final sector. A compromised lap. P3 instead of pole. The garage is tense. Engineers defensive. Media already circling. You keep your voice even during debrief.

“We recover tomorrow.”

Max says nothing. He leaves before the meeting properly ends. You know that silence. You feel it like a shift in air pressure.

Hours later, the paddock is quieter. The motorhome corridors are nearly empty as you step into the elevator, reviewing telemetry on your tablet.

The doors begin to close. A hand stops them. He steps inside. The doors shut. The space is too small. Too quiet. You do not look up.

“Rough session,” you say evenly.

No response. Then— His hand wraps around your wrist. Firm. Sudden. Not violent. But not gentle. You look up sharply.

His eyes are darker than usual, frustration bleeding into something more personal.

“You think you can just walk back in like nothing happened?” he asks.

The words aren’t about qualifying. They never are. Your pulse stutters, but your voice stays level.

“Nothing happened.”

A humorless laugh.

“You don’t get to act like this is normal.”

You pull slightly against his grip.

“Let go.”

He doesn’t.

“You left,” he says, low and tight. “You vanished. And now you’re here like it’s just another season.”

The elevator hums upward. Your throat tightens.

“You think you’re the only one who almost died?” you fire back.

The words hit harder than intended. His hand loosens slightly. For a second, the anger fractures. There is something raw beneath it.

“You shut me out,” he says quietly.

“I was trying to survive.”

The elevator dings. The doors slide open. Neither of you move immediately. Then he releases you. Steps back. Composure snapping into place like armor.

“Tomorrow,” he says flatly, “we win.”

You step past him.

“Yes,” you reply. “We do.”

-

It happens again.

Rain falls without apology. The race is paused. Cars lined along pit lane. Chaos suspended in gray mist.

You stand under the narrow awning near the garage entrance, headset hanging around your neck, watching droplets streak down the halo of his car.

He joins you without invitation. Close. Too close.

The awning barely covers both of you. Your shoulders nearly brush. The scent of rain and fuel fills the space.

“Track will not be forgiving when it restarts,” you say quietly.

“I know.”

Lightning flashes in the distance. Silence settles between you. Not angry. Not sharp. Just heavy.

You can feel the heat radiating from him despite the cold air. You tell yourself to step away. You don’t.

A drop of rain slides from your hairline down your cheek.

Before you can react— His fingers brush your face. Barely there. A reflex. Wiping the water away. The contact is fleeting. But devastating.

He freezes. You freeze. The world feels suspended. His thumb lingers a fraction too long. Then he pulls his hand back like he’s touched something forbidden.

“Sorry,” he mutters.

Your heart is pounding so loudly you’re certain he can hear it.

“It’s fine.”

But it isn’t. The tension crackles. The race resumes moments later. He drives like a man trying to outrun something. You stand on the pit wall pretending your pulse isn’t racing.

He defends aggressively. Brakes impossibly late. Holds the inside in a move the commentators call reckless. You call it necessary.

He crosses the line first. The garage explodes. Cheers. Applause. Relief. You remain composed. Until your office door slams open.

He storms in, helmet still on, gloves half removed, breathing hard like he hasn’t fully left the car. The door shuts behind him. The noise outside fades.

“What are you doing?” you ask, though you already know.

He steps toward you. Still charged with adrenaline. Visor lifted. Eyes bright and wild.

“Tell me,” he demands.

You cross your arms lightly.

“Tell you what?”

His chest rises and falls rapidly.

“Tell me you’re proud of me.”

The vulnerability in it is sharper than any argument. For a moment, you see him at twenty again. Angry. Desperate. Needing acknowledgment more than victory.

Your throat tightens. You take a slow step forward. Close enough that you can see the fine tremor in his hands.

“I always am,” you whisper.

The words land between you like something sacred. His breath catches. For a fraction of a second, it feels like he might close the distance. Like he might forget everything else — titles, contracts, optics, consequences. Instead, he pulls off his helmet and sets it down on your desk with deliberate control.

“Good,” he says quietly.

But he doesn’t leave. Not immediately. He studies you like he’s trying to memorize something. Then, finally, he steps back. Professionalism sliding back into place.

“You made the right call on the tires,” he adds.

“You drove it perfectly.”

A beat. And then he’s gone. The door closes softly this time. You stand there alone, heart still racing, fully aware that each almost moment is pushing the boundary further. You tell yourself you are in control. But control has never been what existed between you. Only tension. Only restraint. And it is wearing thinner with every race.

₊˚⊹ ☆ ‧₊˚₊˚⊹ ☆ ‧₊˚₊˚⊹ ☆ ‧₊˚₊˚⊹ ☆ ‧₊˚₊˚⊹ ☆ ‧₊˚₊˚⊹ ☆ ‧₊˚

several weeks later

f1gossipgirls

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f1gossipgirls : rumor has it that kelly piquet and max verstappen have reportedly broken things off. many believing that it has to do with a certain team principal/ex teammate 👀

-

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₊˚⊹ ☆ ‧₊˚₊˚⊹ ☆ ‧₊˚₊˚⊹ ☆ ‧₊˚₊˚⊹ ☆ ‧₊˚₊˚⊹ ☆ ‧₊˚₊˚⊹ ☆ ‧₊˚

The tension does not explode. It erodes. Slowly. Quietly. Relentlessly.

At first, Kelly tries to be understanding. She tells herself it is stress. Championship pressure. Long factory hours.

But stress does not make someone stare at interview clips at midnight. Stress does not make someone bristle when your name is criticized. Stress does not make someone distant in bed.

It happens after Spa. Another win. Another dominant performance. Another post race interview where he defends you without hesitation.

“She knows what she’s doing,” he says when a reporter questions your aggressive mid race strategy call. “That’s why she’s in charge.”

That night, the apartment is quiet. Kelly stands by the kitchen counter, arms folded.

“You’re in love with her.”

Max stills.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?”

He runs a hand through his hair, already irritated. “She’s my boss.”

“No,” Kelly says steadily. “She’s never just been that, Max."

He looks away.

“You light up when you talk about her,” she continues. “You fight harder when she’s watching. You get defensive when people question her. You barely look at me when you come home from a race.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?”

He doesn’t have an answer. Because he doesn’t know how to articulate the truth. That it is not simple. That it is not new. That it did not start this season.

Kelly’s voice softens, but there is steel beneath it.

“I deserve someone who isn’t still fighting ghosts.”

He exhales slowly. “Kelly—”

“You don’t even deny it.”

That is what breaks it. Not anger. Not betrayal. Absence. She nods once, almost to herself.

“I hope you figure it out,” she says quietly.

Then she leaves. And he is alone with the silence.

The apartment feels different without her. Too quiet. Too honest. He sits on the edge of the couch, staring at nothing. And then memory does what it does best. You backed against his hotel room wall after a tense race. Your arms draped around his neck, pulling him in closer. His lips leaving kisses down yours. The petty comments linger in his brain.

“You think you’re better than me?”

“No. I know I am.”

He remembers the way you used to look at him — like a challenge. Like a threat. Like something you wanted to conquer and couldn’t quite manage to let go of.

He remembers the crash. The hospital. The way he never showed up publicly. The way he told himself distance was strength. He remembers the elevator. The rain. The office.

“I always was.”

He tries to sleep. He cannot. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees you. Hears you. Feels the brush of your cheek under his thumb. The way you stand too close when you argue. The way your voice drops when you are trying not to feel something.

At 2:47 a.m., he stops pretending. At 3:02 a.m., he is at your door.

You are awake. Of course you are. Laptop open. Telemetry from the last race glowing on the screen. Coffee cold beside your hand. When the knock comes, sharp and impatient, your brows knit together.

You check the time. 3:02 a.m. You open the door. And there he is. Max.

Just him. Tension radiating off his body like heat from asphalt. You stare at him.

“Do you know what time it is?”

“Yeah.”

“Why are you here?”

His jaw tightens.

“She left.”

The words land heavily.

Your stomach drops.

“…Kelly?”

He nods once. Silence hangs between you.

“That’s not something you tell your team principal at three in the morning,” you say carefully.

He laughs once, humorless.

“Stop hiding behind that.”

Your pulse quickens.

“You can’t just show up here.”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“That’s not my problem.”

He steps closer, forcing you to either retreat or hold your ground. You hold it.

“It is your problem,” he says quietly. “You made it my problem.”

Your eyes flash.

“I didn’t ask you to feel anything.”

“You didn’t have to.”

The door is still open. You close it. That is the first mistake. The space becomes smaller. More dangerous.

“You think I don’t see it?” he continues. “You pull away every time it gets close. You push me harder when it’s not about the car.”

“You’re projecting.”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

His voice rises.

“You walked back into my life like nothing happened.”

“You think it was easy for me?” you snap. “You think I wanted to see you every day and pretend I don’t remember everything?”

He steps forward until your back brushes the wall.

“Then stop pretending.”

Your breath catches.

“You’re my driver.”

“And you’re lying.”

Silence. Charged. Volatile. He searches your face like he’s looking for permission. You should tell him to leave. You should step away. You don’t.

“You were the only person who ever pushed me,” he says, voice rough. “The only one who ever matched me.”

“That’s not love,” you whisper.

“No,” he agrees. “It’s worse.”

The air feels thin. His hand comes up — slow this time. Gives you time to stop him. You don’t. His fingers brush your jaw. And that is it. Years of restraint snap. The kiss is not soft. It is overdue. It is frustration and grief and unfinished sentences crashing together.

You grip his shirt like you’re trying to ground yourself. He backs you further into the wall, one hand braced beside your head.

There is nothing tentative about it. Nothing careful. It is everything you both refused to name. When you finally pull back, breathless, your forehead rests against his.

“This is a mistake,” you murmur.

“Probably.”

You kiss him again anyway. It is messy and desperate and far too intense for something that was supposed to stay buried. He lifts you slightly, and you laugh against his mouth despite yourself. The sound breaks something open. Not just tension. Fear. Vulnerability. Eventually, the anger fades into something slower. Softer. You end up tangled together on your bed, breathing evening out, silence no longer hostile.

-

Sunlight creeps through the blinds. You wake first. He is still there. Arm draped over your waist. Face unguarded in sleep. For a moment, you simply stare. Trying to understand how you got here.

His eyes open slowly. And for once, there is no armor in them. Just honesty. You both stay quiet. Processing. Finally, he exhales.

“I’ve been in love with you since we were young,” he says, voice low and steady. “I just didn’t know what to do with it.”

Your throat tightens.

“You’re impossible,” you whisper.

“I know.”

“I tried to hate you,” he continues. “It was easier.”

“And now?”

“Now I don’t want to.”

Silence settles, but it is different this time. You reach for him first. Pull him closer. Rest your forehead against his.

“We can’t let this ruin the team,” you murmur.

“It won’t.”

“That’s not a promise you can make.”

“It is.”

You study him for a long moment. Then you nod slightly. He holds you tighter. For once, there is no fight in it. No rivalry. No unfinished tension. Just two people who finally stopped running. And outside your apartment, the world — the press, the paddock, the championship — waits. Unaware that everything just changed.

₊˚⊹ ☆ ‧₊˚₊˚⊹ ☆ ‧₊˚₊˚⊹ ☆ ‧₊˚₊˚⊹ ☆ ‧₊˚₊˚⊹ ☆ ‧₊˚₊˚⊹ ☆ ‧₊˚

end of the season

You are careful. Careful with doors. Careful with glances. Careful with how long your hand lingers at the small of his back when no one is looking.

Only a few people know. Your chief strategist — because she walked in on a hug that was decidedly not professional and simply sighed, “About time.”

Your performance engineer — because he is observant and loyal and pretends not to notice when Max disappears into your office after hours.

The rest of the world still believes you barely tolerate each other. It makes it easier. And harder.

And here we are, one race left. Two championships on the line. The Drivers’. The Constructors’. Both currently in McLaren hands. Mathematically, it is possible. Realistically, it is brutal. But the car is a beast. And the man driving it is sharper than he has ever been.

You stand in your office the morning of the race, reviewing final simulations for the hundredth time. The numbers are solid. The strategy is aggressive. The margins are razor thin.

A soft knock at your door.

You don’t look up immediately.

“Come in.”

The door shuts quietly.

You feel him before you see him. Max leans against the door for a second, still in partial race kit, balaclava hanging loose around his neck.

“You’re supposed to be in the garage,” you say lightly.

“I know.”

You finally meet his eyes. They are steady. Focused. Not nervous. But alive.

“You’ve run the simulations twelve times,” he says, glancing at your screen.

“Fourteen.”

A small smirk.

“You don’t trust me.”

“I trust you completely,” you reply calmly. “I don’t trust probability.”

He steps closer to your desk.

“You know I can do this.”

“I know.”

“And the car?”

“Is perfect.”

The weight of the moment presses in. If he wins, you take everything. If he loses, it will still be a monumental season — but not the one you both want. He walks around the desk until he’s standing in front of you. For once, there is no teasing. No edge. Just honesty.

“Good luck,” you say softly.

He studies your face for a second.

Then, quietly:

“That’s it?”

You arch a brow.

“You want a motivational speech?”

“I want something better.”

You stand slowly.

“Max—”

He cuts you off gently, stepping closer.

“No one’s around.”

He leans down and kisses you. Not rushed. Not desperate. Steady. Certain.

Your hands slide into his racesuit instinctively, pulling him closer for a brief, heated second before you remind yourself where you are. He deepens it slightly anyway, and you can’t help the small laugh that escapes you against his mouth.

“You’re unbelievable,” you murmur.

“I’m about to win my fifth championship,” he replies softly against your lips. “I can afford one distraction.”

The office door suddenly swings open.

“Oh my God—”

You both break apart instantly. Standing frozen in the doorway is Isack. He looks between you. Once. Twice. Eyes widening to cartoonish proportions.

“…I KNEW IT.”

You stare at him.

“Knock,” you say sharply.

He is already grinning so hard it hurts.

“This is the best day of my life,” he announces dramatically. “And the race hasn’t even started.”

Max exhales, half amused, half resigned.

“If you tell anyone—”

“I would never,” Isack says, immediately crossing his heart. “But also this explains literally everything.”

You can’t help it. You giggle. Max looks at you. You look at him. And for a brief second, the enormity of everything — the risk, the secrecy, the history — feels lighter.

“Go win,” you tell him.

He nods once. Then he leaves.

It is ruthless. Strategic. Unforgiving. McLaren fights hard. Their pace is strong. Their pit stops flawless. But your strategy is sharper. You undercut at exactly the right window. You switch to the aggressive tire compound when others hesitate. On the radio, your voice remains calm.

“Don’t overdrive Turn Three,” you remind him mid-race.

A small pause.

“…I won’t.”

He doesn’t.

With ten laps to go, he makes the move. Late braking. Perfect placement. Clinical exit. The overtake that secures everything. The garage erupts. You don’t. Not yet. You wait. Five laps. Four. Three. When he crosses the line first, the world explodes.

Cheering. Headsets thrown into the air. Engineers hugging. You close your eyes for one second.

He climbs out of the car, helmet coming off slowly. The cameras swarm. Commentators shouting.

“Unbelievable turnaround.”

“Red Bull snatch both titles from McLaren!”

He scans the chaos. Looking for one person. You step forward from the edge of the garage. For a split second, you hesitate. Then he walks straight to you. Not the mechanics. Not the cameras. You.

He pulls you into him before you can overthink it. The kiss is public. Unmistakable. The paddock collectively loses its mind. Gasps. Shouts. Flashes going wild.

For a heartbeat, everything else disappears. When you pull back, breathless and laughing, he rests his forehead against yours.

“You were right,” he murmurs.

“About what?”

“Everything.”

You smile up at him.

“Of course I was.”

The press is scrambling. Because they genuinely thought you hated each other. The narrative collapses in real time. From rivals. To tension. To this.

Isack appears behind you both, absolutely vibrating with joy.

“I am never shutting up about this,” he declares.

You laugh, wiping a tear from your cheek. Max keeps one arm wrapped securely around your waist.

“World Champion,” you tease softly.

“Team Principal,” he replies.

Against doubt. Against scrutiny. Against history. You built the car. He drove it to perfection. And somewhere between rivalry and redemption, you both finally chose each other. The season ends not with silence. But with victory. And this time— Neither of you walks away.

₊˚⊹ ☆ ‧₊˚₊˚⊹ ☆ ‧₊˚₊˚⊹ ☆ ‧₊˚₊˚⊹ ☆ ‧₊˚₊˚⊹ ☆ ‧₊˚₊˚⊹ ☆ ‧₊˚

maxverstappen1

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maxverstappen1 : the only thing that tastes sweeter than a championship win is her

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redbullracing : this caption was not HR approved max emilian.

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Good weekend👍

user winning his 5th race in a row and all we get is a "good weekend"

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A newly-discovered species of wasp has been named after Oscar Piastri-'Gwesped piastrii'

Found in Burmese amber in northern Myanmar, the researchers chose to honour Oscar for his achievements in Formula 1 as the amber reminded them of McLaren papaya🧡

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a couple days in melbourne! something new soon 🤫 🐝 @oscarpiastri

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oscarpiastri

still buzzing about that one 🐝 on to monaco.

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love the way you look at me

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these spot the difference things are getting really hard...

honeybee is the first single of my brand new album the last of the bugs! "wasp" just didn't rhyme with anything. out now!

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-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈⋆˚꩜。

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oscarpiastri a few days off in monaco

user since when is oscar a reader

user the last pic is him eating dinner on the floor with someone so he might've been helping them move

user didn't yn just move to monaco🧐

hattiepiastri what is this we all know you can't cook

hattiepiastri and you can't read what the fuck

hattiepiastri OH MY GOD YOU WERE WITH YN this comment has been deleted by the author

olliebearman so this is why you cancelled padel

user whos dog is that???

yourusername posted a story!

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hattiepiastri HELLO

hattiepiastri how much are you hanging out this is two days in a row

hattiepiastri yn im going to fly to monaco if something happened and you don't tell me

olliebearman YAHWOOO OOOOSCARRR AND YN

olliebearman come to canada pls😕

user1 oh i'd never go outside again

user2 oscar should've slapped tf out of him

->user3 LIKE?!?? why are you outing my crush man!@!?!? ->user4 i would've exposed him right back 😭

user5 i mean she IS gorgerous so..

user6 he's so messy for saying that bruhh

user7 his reply being to blush

->user8 he was SPEECHLESS ->user9 bro was SO red oh my-

user10 now why the hell would he say that?? 😭

user11 lowkey scared to see bellingham's reaction to this

user12 oscar might need to hire security after this

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♬ Sade ‧ Paradise

Liked by judebellingham, oscarpiastri and 1,318,362 others

ynbellingham ooh what a life

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user1 vibes are perfect

user2 no selfie :(

->ynbellingham didn't want to embarrass the bros ->judebellingham alright ->jobebellingham that's crazy ->user3 well is she lying..?

user4 oscar still in the likes, he really dgaf

user5 you are such a sade song 💌

user6 TRULY living the life

user7 alright what do y'all think of oscar? judebellingham jobebellingham

->judebellingham no comment ->jobebellingham ⬆ ->user8 oscar you might wanna watch out... ->user9 either he doesn't gaf or he REALLY gives a fuck.....

user10 do you need a sister in law..?

user11 come on oscar daon't be shy... leave a comment

user12 why am i nervous for oscar now 😭

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user1 WATCHING F1?!?!??

user2 of all races u picked the one oscar won....

user3 this face card mama

user4 a selfie after your last story is sooooo

user5 heyyyyy jude 🤭

user6 ty for this jude pic queen <3

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oscarpiastri posted a story !

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ynbellingham guess i picked a pretty good race to watch

->oscarpiastri if i'd known you were watching i would've invited you to the race

->ynbellingham didn’t want to give you performance anxiety yk 🤕

->oscarpiastri right right right ->oscarpiastri your presence would’ve caused a 20 car pile up

->ynbellingham see! glad you understand

->oscarpiastri also i do want to apologize for my teammate saying all that and having your comments full of people talking about me…

->ynbellingham it’s fine lol ->ynbellingham but you didn’t have to make your teammate say my name to get my attention ☺️

->oscarpiastri if i’d known that then i would’ve messaged you sooner 😉

->ynbellingham mhmm so you free anytime soon…?

->oscarpiastri i can make myself free if need be

->ynbellingham send your number so we can chat some more

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Liked by judebellingham, oscarpiastri and 3,118,262 others

ynbellingham omw 🛫

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user1 this hair is so so good i can't

judebellingham where???

->ynbellingham do i need to tell you everywhere i go? ->judebellingham YES ->jobebellingham 100% ->ynbellingham you're welcome to tag along ->jobebellingham I HAVE PLANS ->judebellingham IM on my way ->ynbellingham i was joking jude ->ynbellingham JUDE ->ynbellingham i hate you ->user2 THEY ARE SOOOO ->user3 such a little brother i canttt

user4 living my dream life im sick

user5 the face card is always so insane im speechless

user6 the hello kitty keychain... i knew i liked u for a good reason

->ynbellingham im a woman with excellent taste ->user7 TRUST we know mama

user8 wait but WHERE are you going...??

user9 Muse, the legend, the myth x

user10 loving your active era

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Liked by ynbellingham, oscarpiastri and 5,736,518 others

judebellingham recently 🍃

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user1 IS THAT.....

user2 no way did jude post oscar piastri before y/n

ynbellingham 🥐🏝📽

->user3 THE PASTRY KASURGLIU ->user4 this is conformation 100% ->user5 THEYRE INSANEEEE

user6 he's trying to distract us from how good he looks in the 1st picture

user7 did he just hard launch oscar and not let y/n do it!??? 😭

user8 them three all hanging out is still crazy to me

user9 HE MET THE FAMILY.....

->user10 AND WENT ON VACATION WITH THEM ->user11 oscar knew not to play with it came to y/n

user12 the way we all know that's oscar from his back is sooo-

user13 does this mean that oscar got the brothers stamp of approval

user14 girl the concept of oscar and all the bellingham's having family dinner is KILLING MEE 😭

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Liked by ynbellingham, judebellingham and 4,736,518 others

oscarpiastri Enjoyable one that!

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judebellingham 🙌😍🔥

->ynbellingham easy with the 😍 ->judebellingham damn my bad ->user1 she said "oscar is not a group project"... ->user2 that's HER man ->user3 the heart eyes was a little much 😭

user4 Killing it brother

user5 GO OSCAR🧡✨🏆

ynbellingham so so so proud 💗

->oscarpiastri thank you for coming angel 💗 ->judebellingham easy with the "so" ->ynbellingham this is why jobe is my favorite ->user6 jude takes the role of being the middle child very serious ->user7 he somehow always finds new ways to annoy y/n..

user8 MY GOAT OSCARRR

user9 okay ynbellingham be honest did they interrogate him..?

->ynbellingham lot's of threats but it ended with everyone getting ice cream so it was fine lol ->user10 not surprised 😭☠

user11 just tried to sneak in y/n...

user12 audibly gasped when i saw the 5th picture

user13 so deserved!! well done

jobebellingham where was my invite..?

->ynbellingham in the group chat.. ->judebellingham i have the messages!! ->user14 the kids are fighting again ->user15 omg they are such siblings i canttt 😭

user16 MY FAV DRIVER IS A WINNNNNER

user17 i can't believe he bagged THE y/n bellingham 😭

user18 he's got all the bellingham's approval how cute 🤭

user19 second to confirm it after jude did LOLLL

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✎…… this was going to be shorter but i just kept adding stuff mb <3

also if there are any jobe and jude names mixed up it's because i swear i have undiagnosed dyslexia