#1 max verstappen defender

Her family loved Max. He was the type of boyfriend parents adored—loving and caring—and Max cared a lot about her. She did too, undoubtedly. However, the breakup was unforeseen, unpredictable, just like her. Something about not handling well the transition to becoming a public person and the downsides of having a very famous boyfriend had been weighing on her much more lately, and she just broke up.

The split, nevertheless, did not stop her parents and Max from staying in contact. Not as often as before, but there were still messages, memes, and that same familiarity, as if the breakup had never happened. But there was still room for a second chance—or at least, that was what her mom thought.

She knocked on her parents’ house door after they asked her to fix a technical problem with the computer—something they did more frequently than she would like. Fortunately, they didn’t live too far, so it wasn’t much of a hassle.

Her parents’ house was as warm and familiar as always, but the moment she stepped inside, something felt off. She set her bag down and raised an eyebrow at her mom, who was hovering suspiciously close to the living room door.

“What is it this time?” she asked, slipping into her usual playful exasperation. “Forgot your email password again? Computer ‘deleted itself?’”

“Oh, nothing too complicated,” her mom said, smiling too widely and tucking her hands behind her back.

Her dad appeared in the hallway, looking unusually cheerful. “Hey, sweetheart! Thanks for coming over so quickly.”

She squinted, her suspicion mounting. “Okay… what’s going on?”

Then, she heard it.

“Hey.”

Her stomach dropped at the sound of his voice. She turned toward the living room and froze. Max stood by the sofa, hands stuffed into his pockets, his hesitant smile not quite masking the awkwardness of the moment.

Her jaw dropped slightly. She blinked, then took a step back. “Yeah, I’m not doing this,” she said flatly, turning toward the door.

“Wait,” Max said quickly, his voice almost pleading, and she stopped just long enough to glare at her mom.

Her mom raised her hands in mock innocence. “He was in the area, and I thought it might be nice for you two to… talk.”

Her eyes narrowed. “In the area? Really? That’s what we’re going with?”

Her dad shuffled uncomfortably, avoiding her gaze. “We may have said something about needing help with the computer…”

“A fake computer issue,” she muttered, spinning back toward Max. “Seriously?”

Max shrugged, looking sheepish. “Your mom said you’d be here, and I thought…” He trailed off, clearly unsure of what to say.

Her arms crossed, and her glare deepened. “This isn’t happening. You can’t just ambush me like this.”

“It’s not an ambush!” her mom protested brightly. “It’s… an opportunity. For you two to finally talk.”

She threw her mom an incredulous look, although deep-down, she knew they needed to talk. “Talk about what? We’ve already done the breaking-up part, in case you forgot.”

Her mom gave her the kind of patient, guilt-laden look only a parent could manage. “Sweetheart, you two barely had time to say anything. It was rushed. Don’t you think it’s worth at least clearing the air? Closure is important.”

She opened her mouth to argue but couldn’t deny the faint tug of guilt creeping in. When they’d broken up, she’d been too overwhelmed to say much, and afterward, she’d avoided thinking about how unfair that might have been.

Max’s blue eyes flicked to hers, quietly hopeful but not pushing. He looked like he was waiting for her to make the call, and it made her want to curse out loud. Those blue eyes still had that hold on her, especially when he looked so vulnerable, so wounded. She knew what she did, and perhaps she also could recognize that it had been a rushed decision where she did not let him talk. Regardless, she was stubborn.

She let out a sharp exhale, throwing her hands up. “Fine. We’ll talk.”

Her mom clapped her hands together, clearly trying not to look too pleased. “Great! You two can sit in the living room. We’ll give you some privacy.”

“We will?” her dad asked, earning a sharp elbow from her mom. “Right. Yes. Privacy. We’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything.”

Max stepped aside to let her enter the living room, and she brushed past him, her arms still crossed. She plopped down on the sofa, her body language screaming reluctance.

He sat down at the opposite end, keeping his distance. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence stretching uncomfortably between them.

Max cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “I—uh—don’t really know where to start,” he admitted, his hands clasped in front of him as he leaned forward. “I just… I wanted to see you. To talk.”

She avoided his gaze, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sweater. “About what?” she asked, her tone defensive, though she hated how sharp it sounded.

“About us,” he said simply, his voice low but steady. “About how things ended.”

She let out a breath, her shoulders slumping slightly. “Max, we’ve been over this.”

“Not really,” he countered, his eyes meeting hers. “We didn’t actually talk. You just… you broke up with me, and that was it.”

Her stomach churned with guilt, his words hitting closer to the truth than she wanted to admit. He wasn’t wrong. She had ended things abruptly, almost out of nowhere, and then had avoided him ever since.

“I wasn’t trying to hurt you,” she said softly, her voice almost a whisper.

“I know,” he said quickly, his tone laced with sincerity. “But you did. And I don’t think I even understand why.”

She winced, her chest tightening as the weight of her actions settled over her. “It wasn’t something I planned, okay? I just… I couldn’t handle it anymore.”

Max’s brow furrowed, his confusion evident. “Couldn’t handle what? Me? Racing? The media?”

“All of it,” she admitted, her voice cracking. “The constant attention, the cameras, the comments. Every time I was with you, I felt like I had to be perfect because someone was always watching. And you… you were so focused, so good at it all, and I couldn’t keep up.”

Max leaned back, his expression softening, but there was still a flicker of hurt in his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve listened. I would’ve done something.”

She shook her head, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. “Because I didn’t even know what to say, Max! I didn’t know how to explain it without sounding selfish or ungrateful. So I just… ran.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he didn’t respond. The silence between them grew heavy, the weight of her confession hanging in the air.

“I wish you’d trusted me enough to stay,” he said finally, his voice quiet but firm.

Her chest ached at his words, the guilt she’d been suppressing threatening to overwhelm her. “I know,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I know I messed up.”

Max sighed, running a hand through his hair as he sat back, his eyes never leaving her. “Look,” he said softly, “I didn’t come here to make you feel bad or to guilt you into anything. I’m here because I still care about you. Because I don’t want this to be the end of us.”

She blinked, caught off guard by the confession. “Max…” she began, but he shook his head gently, cutting her off.

“Just hear me out,” he said, leaning forward again, his elbows resting on his knees. “I know my life can be… a lot. The racing, the media, the travel—it’s overwhelming. I get that. And I know I wasn’t always as present as I should’ve been. But I can’t stop thinking about you. About us. I really want you by my side.”

She took a deep breath, the gentle words weighting on her. She held his gaze, the sincerity in those blue orbs almost underwhelming.

“You don’t have to handle it alone,” he said, his tone firm but kind. “I never expected you to. I should’ve made that clearer, but I thought… I thought you knew.”

“It’s not just about you, though. It’s about me, too. I let the pressure get to me, and instead of talking to you, I shut down. That’s on me,” she replied.

Max nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Maybe we both made mistakes,” he admitted. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t fix this. If you still want to, I mean.”

“I don’t know if I can be what you need,” she said quietly, not liking how vulnerable she was sounding, but yet the words slipping out of her mouth. “What if I let you down again?”

“You won’t,” he said without hesitation. “And even if you do, we’ll figure it out. That’s what relationships are, right? You don’t have to be perfect. I don’t need you to be perfect. I just need you.”

She bit her lip, her mind racing. Part of her wanted to believe him, to let herself fall back into the safety of his words and his presence. But another part of her was terrified—terrified of failing again, of breaking his heart, of breaking her own, all while getting overwhelmed and hurt by it.

“It’s not simple,” he admitted, his voice steady. “But it’s worth it.”

The room fell silent, his words hanging in the air like leaves in the breeze. She could feel the firmness of his gaze, the sincerity in his expression, and it made her chest ache.

“Max,” she started, her voice gentle, “I don’t want to hurt you again.”

“You won’t,” he said intently, his eyes unwavering. “But if you’re scared, that’s okay. We’ll take it one step at a time. Just… don’t shut me out.” He leaned forward slightly, his expression open and unguarded. “I’m not asking you to have all the answers right now,” he continued, his voice steady but tender. “I just want us to try. To figure it out together”

She hesitated for a moment longer, her thoughts racing. The fear of failing again was still there, very present, but so was the undeniable pull toward him. Toward the man who cared so much about her, he planned this ambush with her mom even after she had not broken up in the most compassionate way.

Taking a deep breath, she closed the gap between them, reaching out to take his hand. His warmth seeped into her skin, grounding her. “Okay,” she said finally.

Max’s face broke into a smile, the kind that reached his eyes and softened every hard edge. “Yeah?” he asked, his tone laced with cautious hope.

“Yeah,” she confirmed, her own smile growing.

Max smirked, glancing toward the kitchen, where her parents’ voices carried on in a mix of hushed whispers and not-so-hushed laughter. Then, from the direction of the kitchen, there was the unmistakable sound of someone clearing their throat. Loudly.

She turned toward the doorway as her parents stood there, her mom wearing an exaggerated expression of innocence, while her dad unsuccessfully stifled a grin.

“Oh, don’t mind us,” her mom said, waving a hand. “We were just… checking on the oven.”

Her dad snorted. “We don’t even have anything in the oven.”

Her mom shot him a look before turning her attention back to the pair on the couch. “We’re just happy you two finally talked,” she said, beaming. 

“I still can’t believe you two planned this,” she chuckled slightly.

Her mom grinned unapologetically. “Well, sometimes a little push is all you need.”

Max turned to her, his smile softening. “I guess I owe them a thank you.”

She peeked at him, her embarrassment fading as she met his warm gaze. “You’re not the one who has to deal with them later,” she quipped, her tone light but affectionate.

Her mom clapped her hands together. “So, dinner?” she asked brightly. “I think this calls for a celebration.”

Her dad groaned. “Does this mean I have to set the table?”

As her parents bickered good-naturedly on their way back to the kitchen, Max turned to her, his hand tightening gently around hers. “I’m glad we talked,” he said quietly.

“Me too,” she admitted, her heart feeling lighter than it had in weeks.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶

imessage • charles -> yn

twitter • @ cl16sleftnipple -> yn's undercover fan acct

imessage • yn -> charles

igstory • charles_leclerc has uploaded !

[caption; she accepts watching sunsets on a yacht as a form of payment 😉]

this story is unavailable. get notifications when charles_leclerc shares a story.

igstory • yninstagram has uploaded to their close friends story !

[caption; if anyone is looking for a chauffeur call me at 1-800-HELP-ME-PARK 😅]

franciscacgomes u have to take me on a joyride the next time i'm in monaco !!!

yninstagram yes! we'll ditch the boys for the day and collect some speeding tickets with the stradale ;p

yourfriend do you do weddings 👀

yninstagram weddings, birthdays, bachelor & bachelorette parties, etc. yourfriend how much do you charge? yninstagram 4 cheeseburger

charles_leclerc i thought i hired you for your exclusivity 😑

yninstagram shh mon amour you'll always be my favorite client xoxo

olliebearman if i get him for secret santa next year, i'm gifting him parking lessons 😆

yninstagram you'd be my favorite child if you did 🛐 olliebearman :DDD

instagram • f1fanpagemonaco

liked by arthur_leclerc, lorenzotl, joris__trouche, and 34,785 others

f1fanpagemonaco charles leclerc posts and deletes a photo of an unknown woman to his instagram story in the midst of a rampant discussion of his suddenly improved parking! it's captioned: "she accepts watching sunsets on a yacht as a form of payment." was this an accidental post of the rumored chauffeur that's behind the perfect parking of his vehicles?

tagged charles_leclerc

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user17 the winky face emoji is making me think she's more than just his chauffeur 👀👀👀

user18 we really do need to open the schools :/

user19 bc how do you read the caption and not see that it's blatant confirmation that he's hired a driver?

user20 i don't even have to see behind that champagne flute to know that she's a baddie 😮‍💨

user21 now that i think about it, i think i saw a woman with this exact outfit walking a dachshund that could’ve been leo!!! wish we could see more of her face to confirm ☹️

user22 does anybody else think that this was just meant to distract us from the original issue of charles being unable to park a car???

user23 talk about it!!! user24 i mean it doesn't really matter if he can park anymore now that he's paying somebody to do it for him 🤷‍♀️

twitter • @ cl16sleftnipple -> yn's undercover fan acct

imessage • yn -> charles

instagram • f1fanpagemonaco

liked by arthur_leclerc, lorenzotl, joris__trouche, and 34,785 others

f1fanpagemonaco the plot thickens 😱 the woman rumored to be charles leclerc's chauffer was caught parking his car and taking a photo afterward! this confirms her chauffeur status AND leads many to think that she's also the woman behind @/cl16sleftnipple on twitter. our discord members have hunted down what may be her instagram account too 🧐

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user25 why do i feel so violated!!! his chauffeur has been a double agent the entire time 🤯

user26 tbh charles better be paying her beautifully !!!

user27 iktr bc i would not try to convince everybody on the internet that he can park when it's really me doing all the work!

user28 i think i'm in love with her

user29 who is this diva 💜

user30 next thing you know we're gonna find out she has a tumblr for f1 ff's 😭😭😭

user31 i think somebody is leaking the plot to the next trending netflix original movie 👄

user32 lwk i think i could convince her to drive me around in my prius 🤥

user33 you forget how to speak around hot women and only have $12.32 in your checking acct—you couldn't even convince her to breathe the same air as you bestie 😘 user32 i know you like to think that calling me bestie after reading me to filth will make up for it, but it just makes me want to strangle you even more :)

instagram • charles_leclerc

liked by arthur_leclerc, lorenzotl, joris__trouche, and 34,785 others

charles_leclerc if you're going to reveal who cl16sleftnipple is, at least get her job title correct 😠 she's not my chauffeur, she's my girlfriend and parking princess 👸🏾🤗😘🥰🤭🤤😚

view comments

yninstagram can you believe that he doesn't like when i drive but he BEGS me to park ??? make it make sense 😅

charles_leclerc ma chérie you REFUSE to use the break pedal!!! yninstagram break pedals are 4 losers (i am speed 🏎)

user35 GIRLFRIEND???!!! 😵‍💫😵👻

user36 when you say girlfriend, do you mean that she's a friend who happens to be a girl orrrrrrrrrr?

charles_leclerc orrrrr girlfriend meaning l'amour de ma vie 🥰🥰🥰

user37 two pretty people in a happy relationship? 2025 isn't so bad 😌

user36 maybe the world is healing 🥹 user37 maybe charles leclerc wdc 2025 🫣 yninstagram pls don't jinx it 😩 go knock on wood rn 🫵🏾

user38 why did she go with "cl16sleftnipple" as her username???

yninstagram because it's my favorite one obv 😇 charles_leclerc what's wrong with my right nipple :(((( yninstagram idk it just looks at me weird sometimes... user38 how does a body part look at you weirdly 😀

user39 oh, this baddie is weird? say less, i'm sending her my credit card information rn

user40 charles leclerc core LMFAOOO

user41 waiiiiitttt does this mean she's not gonna use her fan acct anymore :(

user42 aw man i didn't even think about that; i was constantly on twt just to see what funny shit she was saying lol yninstagram if the people want more of cl16sleftnipple who am i to deny them 😌👐🏾

instagram • yninstagram

liked by arthur_leclerc, lorenzotl, joris__trouche, and 34,785 others

yninstagram AITA for saving the citizens of monaco by parking my (25 F) boyfriend's (27 M) cars for him because he's incapable of fitting within two lines without being a road hazard?

comments on this post have been limited

yourfriend TLDR: she lost the plot by starting a fan twt to try and save her bf's reputation (who's notoriously known for his shit parking) it backfired bc everybody thought she was his chauffeur

yourfriend (cont.) now charles has to suffer with the world knowing that he has his gf position his cars AND that he still can't park charles_leclerc this wasn't necessary 😒 yourfriend is that what you said when it was time to learn how to parallel park ☠️

lilymhe reminds me of the time charles blocked traffic picking you up from brunch last year 😆

franciscacgomes i remember when the honks started and yn was like "oh, that probably means charles is here!" lilyzneimer first brunch i went to with the wags and i left with tinnitus from the sound of car horns blaring 🥲 yninstagram sorry little lily! next meet up will be honk free :) yninstagram ...was v embarrassing to get into the car that's blocking traffic 🫠

oscarpiastri NTA 👍🏻

oscarpiastri is now a good time to say that charles almost backed his car into me before padel yesterday? charles_leclerc NO IT WILL NEVER BE A GOOD TIME TO SAY THAT yninstagram mb the electric scooter wasn't such a bad idea…

maxverstappen1 NTA 😹😹😹

lando thinking about how much money charles loses to parking fines 🤣

olliebearman not to pray on his downfall but

olliebearman when his license gets suspended can i get the spider 🥺 arthurleclerc NUH UH 🙅🏻‍♂️ i get the spider and you get the sf90 oscarpiastri i'll take the daytona then 👍🏻 pierregasly i think i can make room for the roma 😌 charles_leclerc yeah this isn't praying, it's PLANNING on my downfall 😒😒😒

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That’s when reality hit him like a freight train.

He turned his gaze to the left, where the trash can stood partially open. Inside, he saw an untouched cake, decorated with intricate floral designs and a message that read, “Happy Birthday, Y/N!” The sight struck him like a blow to the chest, the pressure so intense it made him want to vomit.

“No… No, it wasn’t today…” 

Desperately, and trying to figure out what to do, Max ran his hands through his hair, as if that might somehow help him calm down. His breathing grew more erratic with each passing second, his eyes glued to the cake. It didn’t feel real. He couldn’t understand how he had managed to forget such an important date… you, his girlfriend’s, birthday. Something so obvious had suddenly spiraled into a waking nightmare.

He noticed his phone sitting on the kitchen counter. Grabbing it quickly, he checked for any missed calls or messages from you, only to realize after several failed attempts to turn it on that it was dead. He blamed his drunkenness not only for not noticing he didn’t have his phone with him or that it was out of battery, but for forgetting such a meaningful day and breaking every promise he had made to you.

Deep down, though, he knew all the excuses were hollow. Any justification he tried to offer would be nothing but foolishness.

Setting the phone back on the counter, he decided not to waste any more time. He headed toward your bedroom. The door was ajar, and though the lights were off, he could make out your silhouette lying on the bed, your back turned to him. You gave no sign that you had noticed his arrival. The only sound in the room was your muffled, quiet sobs. As Max stepped closer, he saw you were clutching a pillow tightly, as if it were your only source of comfort.

That was the moment Max realized he couldn’t avoid facing the situation, no matter how impossible it felt to fix things right away.

“Y/N...” he said softly.

You didn’t answer, and your silence hurt more than a thousand words could have. Max knelt beside the bed, close enough to reach out, and gently began stroking your face. You didn’t resist his touch, but your indifference pierced him deeply.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, his voice trembling as he fought to hold himself together. “I swear this wasn’t my intention… I wanted to come home earlier, but Lando insisted we stay a bit longer, and then I didn’t have my phone…”

“You forgot, Max,” you interrupted, your tone sharp but laced with pain, anger, and sadness. You still wouldn’t look at him. “Goddammit, Max, you forgot my fucking birthday ever since the moment the clock struck midnight.”

Max fell silent. Once again, reality hit him square in the face, forcing him to acknowledge that anything he said would likely be inadequate. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, trying to find the words to explain himself calmly, to admit his mistakes while grappling with the weight of his guilt.  

“You know it wasn’t my intention,” he began, his voice low. “It’s just… with the shitty season I’ve been having and everything that comes with it, I’ve been feeling overwhelmed. I just needed to step out of my comfort zone for a bit, to clear my head…”  

“And you thought doing that on my birthday, after promising me a dream day, was the most appropriate choice?” you cut him off, finally raising your head. Your eyes were swollen and red from crying. “I know you’re not in a good place right now, but I also know that until now, every promise you’ve made to me, you’ve kept. You didn’t just forget about me, Max. You left me here, alone, all day, like I didn’t matter at all.”  

Max searched desperately for a way to salvage the situation, to apologize, to do something, anything, to prove how deeply sorry he was. But when you turned on the light and sat up to face him, he realized he was out of options. He didn’t know how to continue without disappointing you further.  

“You know this has been really hard for me…”  

“Hard for you? Seriously?” you interrupted, leaning closer and pointing your finger at him. “And you think this has been easy for me? Watching you shut me out, never telling me what’s going on in that head of yours? Not to mention your fans… They’re fully convinced that your shitty season is all my fault, that our relationship is ruining your career.”  

“Y/N, I know…”  

That was a lie. He didn’t know. Max had ignored the comments and criticism because, deep down, he believed you weren't to blame for his performance, especially when you rarely even went with him to the races anymore.  

“There’s nothing I can say to argue with you,” Max admitted. “You’re absolutely right. I’ve been a complete asshole today, and I’m truly sorry. I love you, Y/N, more than you know…”  

“Are you sure you love me?” you shot back, your voice trembling with anger. “Do you love me, or your damn career? Because lately, it feels like your whole world revolves even more around cars, races, speed, adrenaline, and your constant need to be the best at everything.”  

“Hey…” Max tried, his voice faltering.  

“Every day, you show me more and more that we’re no longer a team… that I’m no longer a part of you. And I know I’m not the only one who sees it.”  

Your words hit him like a dagger, but he knew he deserved them.  

“It’s not just about you forgetting my birthday today, Max. It’s everything. You don’t listen to me… you don’t give me anything, not even a minute of your day, let alone affection or support. Why should I stay in a relationship that, instead of giving me life, is killing me inside?”  

Your words struck him like a bucket of ice water.  

“You don’t get it, do you?” you asked, frustration and sadness mingling in your tone as he stayed silent. “If you really loved me, you wouldn’t be afraid to show me who you are, flaws and all. But you’ve always done this, Max, keeping me at arm’s length, never letting me into your life.”  

“I don’t do that, Y/N, it’s just that…” he began, summoning his courage to explain, but you cut him off once again.  

“Damn it, Max, yes, of course you do!” you yelled, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. “Do you realize that even though I’ve been with you, I’ve been completely alone? Alone, Max, utterly alone! I’ve tried so many times to talk to you, to make you see that a few bad races aren’t the end of the world for someone like you, but…”  

You stopped yourself abruptly, your throat aching and your head pounding. You felt no remorse for the way you were speaking to him since he deserved every word, but you couldn’t help but feel a deep sadness. Sadness for the Max Verstappen you had once known. A man who had been so proud of himself and his achievements after years of hard work, now emotionally shattered and, worse, so determined to hide it from everyone, including you.  

“I can’t keep giving you everything I have while you keep taking and taking, without giving anything back.”  

“I’m sorry…” Max muttered, but the words felt hollow.  

“A simple ‘I’m sorry’ doesn’t fix anything, Max,” you replied, your voice quieter now but no less wounded. “I wish it were just about today, but like I said, I feel like you’re pushing me further out of your life with every passing day. You’re becoming a stranger to me, Max,” you admitted, trying not to let your voice waver. “You’ve been like this for months, and I don’t know what else to do to stop us from falling apart… though it feels like that’s exactly what you want.”  

“That’s not true,” he answered immediately, desperation in his voice. “Y/N, seriously, I love you more than you could ever imagine.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, tears welling up again. “Because I feel like you’re showing me the exact opposite.” Your voice trembled with the weight of her words. “Sometimes it feels like you love your career, the success you’ve achieved and the crowds chanting your name more than you love me.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, his voice barely audible. “You know I want to, but… I don’t know how to fix this anymore…”

You looked at him, your eyes searching his face for some sign, some silent promise that would make you believe things between you could change. But Max’s words only made you realize that you had to stop thinking fantasies and start facing reality.

“Maybe you can’t fix it,” you confessed, the words breaking you from the inside. “I can’t keep going like this, Max… I can’t keep feeling like I’m not enough… like I’m not good enough for you.”

“Seriously, there has to be a solution…” he pleaded, his voice full of regret. “I’ll do better from now on, I promise…”

“You don’t get it, do you?” You turned to look at him, the pain evident in your expression. “Things won’t magically get better if you take me to dinner or buy me a million-dollar necklace to make up for today. That won’t fix anything, Max…”

“Y/N… Y/N, please… I need you…”

No matter how many times Max said those words, he knew that any promise he made now would be meaningless, especially considering how much he had already failed you.

Feeling that there were no more words left to say between them, you slowly got out of bed. You gathered the few belongings you had on the nightstand and, with a sense of finality, began to pack a bag, all the while feeling Max’s powerless gaze on you.

That’s when reality hit him like a freight train.

He turned his gaze to the left, where the trash can stood partially open. Inside, he saw an untouched cake, decorated with intricate floral designs and a message that read, “Happy Birthday, Y/N!” The sight struck him like a blow to the chest, the pressure so intense it made him want to vomit.

“No… No, it wasn’t today…” 

Desperately, and trying to figure out what to do, Max ran his hands through his hair, as if that might somehow help him calm down. His breathing grew more erratic with each passing second, his eyes glued to the cake. It didn’t feel real. He couldn’t understand how he had managed to forget such an important date… you, his girlfriend’s, birthday. Something so obvious had suddenly spiraled into a waking nightmare.

He noticed his phone sitting on the kitchen counter. Grabbing it quickly, he checked for any missed calls or messages from you, only to realize after several failed attempts to turn it on that it was dead. He blamed his drunkenness not only for not noticing he didn’t have his phone with him or that it was out of battery, but for forgetting such a meaningful day and breaking every promise he had made to you.

Deep down, though, he knew all the excuses were hollow. Any justification he tried to offer would be nothing but foolishness.

Setting the phone back on the counter, he decided not to waste any more time. He headed toward your bedroom. The door was ajar, and though the lights were off, he could make out your silhouette lying on the bed, your back turned to him. You gave no sign that you had noticed his arrival. The only sound in the room was your muffled, quiet sobs. As Max stepped closer, he saw you were clutching a pillow tightly, as if it were your only source of comfort.

That was the moment Max realized he couldn’t avoid facing the situation, no matter how impossible it felt to fix things right away.

“Y/N...” he said softly.

You didn’t answer, and your silence hurt more than a thousand words could have. Max knelt beside the bed, close enough to reach out, and gently began stroking your face. You didn’t resist his touch, but your indifference pierced him deeply.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, his voice trembling as he fought to hold himself together. “I swear this wasn’t my intention… I wanted to come home earlier, but Lando insisted we stay a bit longer, and then I didn’t have my phone…”

“You forgot, Max,” you interrupted, your tone sharp but laced with pain, anger, and sadness. You still wouldn’t look at him. “Goddammit, Max, you forgot my fucking birthday ever since the moment the clock struck midnight.”

Max fell silent. Once again, reality hit him square in the face, forcing him to acknowledge that anything he said would likely be inadequate. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, trying to find the words to explain himself calmly, to admit his mistakes while grappling with the weight of his guilt.  

“You know it wasn’t my intention,” he began, his voice low. “It’s just… with the shitty season I’ve been having and everything that comes with it, I’ve been feeling overwhelmed. I just needed to step out of my comfort zone for a bit, to clear my head…”  

“And you thought doing that on my birthday, after promising me a dream day, was the most appropriate choice?” you cut him off, finally raising your head. Your eyes were swollen and red from crying. “I know you’re not in a good place right now, but I also know that until now, every promise you’ve made to me, you’ve kept. You didn’t just forget about me, Max. You left me here, alone, all day, like I didn’t matter at all.”  

Max searched desperately for a way to salvage the situation, to apologize, to do something, anything, to prove how deeply sorry he was. But when you turned on the light and sat up to face him, he realized he was out of options. He didn’t know how to continue without disappointing you further.  

“You know this has been really hard for me…”  

“Hard for you? Seriously?” you interrupted, leaning closer and pointing your finger at him. “And you think this has been easy for me? Watching you shut me out, never telling me what’s going on in that head of yours? Not to mention your fans… They’re fully convinced that your shitty season is all my fault, that our relationship is ruining your career.”  

“Y/N, I know…”  

That was a lie. He didn’t know. Max had ignored the comments and criticism because, deep down, he believed you weren't to blame for his performance, especially when you rarely even went with him to the races anymore.  

“There’s nothing I can say to argue with you,” Max admitted. “You’re absolutely right. I’ve been a complete asshole today, and I’m truly sorry. I love you, Y/N, more than you know…”  

“Are you sure you love me?” you shot back, your voice trembling with anger. “Do you love me, or your damn career? Because lately, it feels like your whole world revolves even more around cars, races, speed, adrenaline, and your constant need to be the best at everything.”  

“Hey…” Max tried, his voice faltering.  

“Every day, you show me more and more that we’re no longer a team… that I’m no longer a part of you. And I know I’m not the only one who sees it.”  

Your words hit him like a dagger, but he knew he deserved them.  

“It’s not just about you forgetting my birthday today, Max. It’s everything. You don’t listen to me… you don’t give me anything, not even a minute of your day, let alone affection or support. Why should I stay in a relationship that, instead of giving me life, is killing me inside?”  

Your words struck him like a bucket of ice water.  

“You don’t get it, do you?” you asked, frustration and sadness mingling in your tone as he stayed silent. “If you really loved me, you wouldn’t be afraid to show me who you are, flaws and all. But you’ve always done this, Max, keeping me at arm’s length, never letting me into your life.”  

“I don’t do that, Y/N, it’s just that…” he began, summoning his courage to explain, but you cut him off once again.  

“Damn it, Max, yes, of course you do!” you yelled, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. “Do you realize that even though I’ve been with you, I’ve been completely alone? Alone, Max, utterly alone! I’ve tried so many times to talk to you, to make you see that a few bad races aren’t the end of the world for someone like you, but…”  

You stopped yourself abruptly, your throat aching and your head pounding. You felt no remorse for the way you were speaking to him since he deserved every word, but you couldn’t help but feel a deep sadness. Sadness for the Max Verstappen you had once known. A man who had been so proud of himself and his achievements after years of hard work, now emotionally shattered and, worse, so determined to hide it from everyone, including you.  

“I can’t keep giving you everything I have while you keep taking and taking, without giving anything back.”  

“I’m sorry…” Max muttered, but the words felt hollow.  

“A simple ‘I’m sorry’ doesn’t fix anything, Max,” you replied, your voice quieter now but no less wounded. “I wish it were just about today, but like I said, I feel like you’re pushing me further out of your life with every passing day. You’re becoming a stranger to me, Max,” you admitted, trying not to let your voice waver. “You’ve been like this for months, and I don’t know what else to do to stop us from falling apart… though it feels like that’s exactly what you want.”  

“That’s not true,” he answered immediately, desperation in his voice. “Y/N, seriously, I love you more than you could ever imagine.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, tears welling up again. “Because I feel like you’re showing me the exact opposite.” Your voice trembled with the weight of her words. “Sometimes it feels like you love your career, the success you’ve achieved and the crowds chanting your name more than you love me.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again, his voice barely audible. “You know I want to, but… I don’t know how to fix this anymore…”

You looked at him, your eyes searching his face for some sign, some silent promise that would make you believe things between you could change. But Max’s words only made you realize that you had to stop thinking fantasies and start facing reality.

“Maybe you can’t fix it,” you confessed, the words breaking you from the inside. “I can’t keep going like this, Max… I can’t keep feeling like I’m not enough… like I’m not good enough for you.”

“Seriously, there has to be a solution…” he pleaded, his voice full of regret. “I’ll do better from now on, I promise…”

“You don’t get it, do you?” You turned to look at him, the pain evident in your expression. “Things won’t magically get better if you take me to dinner or buy me a million-dollar necklace to make up for today. That won’t fix anything, Max…”

“Y/N… Y/N, please… I need you…”

No matter how many times Max said those words, he knew that any promise he made now would be meaningless, especially considering how much he had already failed you.

Feeling that there were no more words left to say between them, you slowly got out of bed. You gathered the few belongings you had on the nightstand and, with a sense of finality, began to pack a bag, all the while feeling Max’s powerless gaze on you.

yourusername: mwhahaahmwhaah 🔥🔥

leclerc_pascale: oh honey…

yourusername: you’ll love him mama i know you will😊

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There was something so scary about waking up in a room you didn't recognize.

The light was blinding, and it just made your hangover headache ten times worse. You groaned, squinting as you slowly sat up from the unrecognizable bed.

Panicked, you looked around the room-it was trashed-with bottles of wine, and bed sheets scattered everywhere. In terror you looked down at yourself, letting out a sigh of relief at the sight of your clothes still on your body. That was a good sign.

Slowly you inched off the bed, and there you noticed there was someone else in the bed, face down, with his arms sprawled out. It was a man.

Carefully, you walked around the bed and squatted to take a look at who it was, the sight made your stomach churn, "Oscar?" you whispered to yourself.

What were you doing in Oscar Piastri's room of all places?

Omg, had he kidnapped you? You laughed to yourself. No, it was more likely that you kidnapped him.

Shaking your head you decided to exist, you'll have to figure this all out later. You stared at him for a small second before making your way to the room, accidentally crushing a piece of paper that lay on the ground.

You winced, turning to make sure the sound didnt wake Oscar up, it didn’t. With a sigh of relief, you tiptoed out of the room.

As you stumbled through the hotel hallway, you felt all kinds of dirty. Yes, you still had your clothes on, but that didnt necessarily mean you two didn’t do anything. Yikes. You just prayed that Charles hadn’t hear a whisper about this.

Thankfully, he was down in the dumps last night about his race results, so he chose to stay in. It was more than likely he didnt see anything.

Taking your hotel room key out of your bra (safe keeping) you turned the corner of the hotel, gasping in horror at who you saw pacing up and down your room door. Your brother, Charles.

His head snapped up at the sound of the gasp, his eyes red and swollen. He did not waste any time running over to you, his pupils were wild as he scanned you up and down multiple times, he was rambling in French, making your head spin by the sheer volume of his voice.

You shushed him, squinting, "Charles..calm down please."

He pulled you in a tight hug, "Calm down? How can I calm down! You disappeared and didnt answer your phone, and I have to find out throught Instagram that you got married!" What?

You pulled back from the hug, feeling the room spin, "What?" you whispered, although he didnt seem to hear you.

"And listen mon cœur, if you love him then it's okay. We're not mad—just, why didn't you tell us?" He looked down at you with a frown.

You shook your head violently, holding up a finger, "No no, Charles what are you talking about?"

His sadness quickly turned to confusion, "You got married?"

Your eyes went comically wide, "What!?" you yelled not caring about your volume.

Charles took a step back, "You disappeared all night and posted to social media about being married. You.. don't remember?"

"No Charles I don't fucking remember!" you shouted in horror, patting yourself down for your phone, just your luck, it wasn't on you. "Oh my god.." you groaned, shutting your eyes.

"What's wrong? You don't remember getting married to your secret boyfriend?"

You looked up at Charles blankly, "Charles, I don't have a secret boyfriend."

Charles titled his head, slowly speaking, "...Then who did you marry?"

You chose not to answer, deciding it would be best if he could put the puzzle pieces together himself.

He gasped after a second, "You got married to a stranger?! What is wrong with you?"

"I was drunk!" you threw your arms up in defense.

"Oh, you were drunk!" Charles asked ironically, "I get drunk all the time and I don't get married to random strangers!"

"You act like I wanted this to happen!" You two bickered, not noticing the awkward Australian slowly making his way towards you two.

"Well, you don't seem as freaked out as you should be!" Charles shouted.

"I'm still processing this!" you whined, stomping your feet, just then you two heard a cough. You swiveled around only to come face to face with Oscar, his pale cheeks lit with fire, "Oscar.." you smiled, nudging Charles.

Cahsrles looked up at Oscar in confusion, giving him an unsure smile.

"Sorry to interrupt," Oscar rubbed the back of his neck, before presenting two items, your phone, and a piece of paper, it seemed to have been the paper you had stepped on earlier.

You gasped, taking the phone with a smile, but before you could thank him, Charles spoke up, "Why do you have her phone?" his voice was low, and no amusement was present.

You looked at Oscar with wide eyes, shaking your head slightly, Charles could not find out that you two had spent the night together, no way he would take that well.

Oscar swallowed thickly, blinking, before he could even mutter a word, the paper in his hands was ripped away. The panic was clear on his face, as he tried to reach for it, but to no avail.

You watched in confusion as Oscar clearly started to panic, you glanced back at your brother who was staring down at the piece of paper with never seen before anger.

"What is it?" you mumbled, looking down at his hands, it was a certificate, you slowly read it, dreadfulness morphing quickly.

This document certifies OSCAR JACK PIASTRI & Y/N LECLERC, were united in marriage in the LITTLE LAS VEGAS WEDDING CHAPEL.

Oh shit.

Charles glanced in between you and Oscar, whose mouth was pressed tightly.

"You took advantage of my sister?" Charles whispered, and Oscar's eyes widened along with yours.

"No, Charles—“ you tried, but Charles had already crumpled the marriage certificate and thrown it to the side.

"You took advantage of my sister?!" Charles yelled, and the next thing you knew, Charles was on top of Oscar, trying to land some punches.

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liked by 204,826 users!

formulagossip: did we all see that blurry hotel video of two men (suspiciously oscar and charles shaped) tussling on a hotel hallway floor? or am i hallucinating

view comments below!

user3: genuinely, how is this real life

user4: it’s like, they’res no way that’s oscar, but at the same time, that’s 100% charles

user5: how did we get here

user6: it's just a family fight, totally normal

user7: who saw this coming

user8: WHY IS THIS HAPPENING

user9: am i crazy for thinking that it’s actually them

user10: no because it’s actually them. like body shape and even the sound of their (girlish) screams, you can even hear someone yelling ‘charles!’ in the back

user11: what if this has something to do with y/ns now deleted post

user12: y/n posting about getting married to a mystery man that NOBODY knew about and hours later oscar and charles are fighting in a random hallway…tell me im not the only one who’s connecting these dots

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