oh for sureee, sheâs got countless of viral moments it seems neverending. fans still live for it tho!!!
more about driver!yn
the podium slip
Rain soaked podium. Champagne everywhere. YN took one step in her race boots and slipped, did a perfect spin, and took George down with her.
He fell. Oscar slipped on them. Yuki watched it all happen with a horrified face from below the podium. They all ended up on the floor. She raised a thumbs up from the ground and said:
âI stuck the landing.â
âWHY DID SHE TAKE GEORGE DOWN WITH HERâ
the team radio breakdown
She was in P2. Two laps to go. The podium was hers. And thenâsnap. A mechanical failure. Complete power loss, everything stopped.
She rolled to a stop in sector three, heart thundering, fists clenched so tight it shook. The radio crackled. And thenâanger.
âI swear, I will actually FIGHT this car. Someone hold me back.â
Lucaâs silence was deafening.
Later, she laughed about it. Said sheâd cool off. But fans? They turned it into a war cry.
âlucaâs js used to everything sheâs doingâ
post race cravings
Post-race interview. She looked dead behind her eyes. Grease smudged her jaw. Her ponytail was falling apart. The race had been hell. No points, no pace. And the reporter asked what her plans were.
She sighed, blinked slowly, and went: ââŚnuggets. McDonaldâs. Iâd sell my souls for a 20 piece right now.â
And the best part? McDonaldâs replied. By the next race, she had a personalized nugget box. With her number on it.
âshe ate the nuggets during fp1. realest driver out thereâ
the lewis interview
Post race, she walked into frame next to Lewis. Exhausted, but radiating chaos. He leaned on her shoulder. She leaned back.
âWeâre tired,â he said to the mic.
âWeâre delusional,â she added. They both bursted into laughter.
They started high-fiving out of nowhere mid-interview. Talking over each other. Giggling at nothing.
The interviewer gave up halfway through.
âthese two have NO media training and we LOVE thatâ
grid kid softness
He looked scared. Eight years old, holding the umbrella next to her on the grid, hands shaking.
She knelt down.
âHey,â she said gently, handing him her cap. âYou look cool. Wanna wear this?â He nodded shyly.
She fist-bumped him. âYouâre braver than half the grid.â
He beamed back at her. And she stood for the anthem, capless, with one hand protectively behind his back.
âhe said she makes him feel âsafe.â iâm actually sobbingâ
the seb moment
During a race weekend, Sebastian Vettel made a surprise paddock appearance. YN spotted him from across the media pen and literally gasped. Covered her mouth. Full body turn. Then ran.
They hugged, she squealed. He called her "the fiercest thing on four wheels." She teared up.
Photos of her beaming at Seb like he was her dad? Broke the internet. They love them both.
âshe looked like a kid meeting her heroâ
the public nap situation
It was between sessions. Hot day. Busiest paddock of the season.
Someone walked by a tire stack and found YN asleep behind it. Fully out. Arm as a pillow. Hoodie pulled over her eyes, how did she get there?
She woke up to the sound of a mechanic accidentally dropping a wrench and sat up like a soldier in a war movie.
âAm I late for quali?â she asked. It was 11 am.
She then fell back to sleep instantly.
âno bcs WHY ARE THEY JS LETTING HER SLEEP THEREâ
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Summary: When Yn has a scary accident on track, Nico is immediately there for her. After all, she is just a kid.
Rain still clung to the edges of the track from the morning showers, thin beads glistening on the curbs as the grid buzzed with anticipation. Spa had always felt alive, breathing with the mountains and forests around it, but today it throbbed with something else â excitement, nerves, a strange electricity in the air.
And for Yn, it meant everything.
At eighteen, standing in her Red Bull suit, helmet tucked against her hip, she felt like the world had finally opened up to her. Spa was her favorite track. She had told Max so more than once during the week â excitedly, shyly, and with that spark in her eyes that always made him smile.
âIt feels like flying here,â she had whispered to him on the track walk two days earlier.
Max had ruffled her hair. âThen letâs make sure you fly in the good way. Not the other one.â
She had laughed. She always laughed with him.
Now, hurtling through Eau Rouge on lap 17, she wasnât laughing â but she was alive with adrenaline, her heart hammering as she pushed the car as hard as she dared.
Max was P1.
Oscar was P2.
And she â she was right behind them in P3. Holding strong. Holding steady.
Except for the pressure behind her.
Lando.
He was quicker in the middle sector. She could feel him breathing down her neck through the radio static.
Her engineerâs voice crackled in. âYn, Lando is half a second behind. Keep your line. Youâre doing great.â
She swallowed. âCopy⌠but heâs moving weird. Iâ I donât like it. Heâs weaving a lot.â
âWe see it. Stay focused.â
Her fingers tightened on the wheel.
She knew Lando wasnât dirty. He was aggressive, sure, but never reckless â except today, something felt off. Maybe the pressure, maybe the championship, maybe the rain still lingering near the edges of the asphalt.
Or maybe he simply wanted P3 too much.
They approached Les Combes.
She exhaled shakily, trying to keep the car steady.
But Lando dove.
Too fast.
Too close.
The world snapped.
A violent jolt.
Metal against metal.
Her carâs rear lifted.
The radio dissolved into static.
She felt herself leave the ground â weightless â then slam, hard, as the car flipped.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Four.
She lost count after that.
Her helmet hit something with a crack that echoed inside her skull. Her arms curled instinctively into her chest, her body thrown around as the chassis spun like a toy in a storm.
When the car finally crashed down on its side and skidded to a horrid, scraping halt, everything went silent.
Her ears rang.
Her breathing was thin and sharp.
The world blurred.
Then, faintly, she heard it:
âYn? YN! If you hear this, please respond!â
She tried to speak, but only a painful breath escaped her lips.
Everything felt far away.
The marshals were running before the dust even settled. Cameras zoomed. The crowds had gone eerily quiet.
Seven minutes.
Seven unbearable minutes.
The medical team waited for the car to be stabilized. The marshals surrounded her, one shouting instructions, another checking the fuel leak, another making sure the fireproof foam was ready.
Then â finally â she moved.
A trembling hand gripped the halo. Her helmet tilted up.
A collective gasp rolled over Spa.
She pushed herself free â legs shaking, arms weak â and slid out of the destroyed car. Her knees nearly gave out the moment her feet touched the ground.
A female marshal â mid-30s, kind eyes, blonde ponytail â reached her first. âHey, sweetheart, I got you. I got youâŚâ She wrapped Yn in her arms without hesitation.
Yn clutched her suit, shaking uncontrollably. She wasnât crying yet â shock sat like cold hands around her throat â but she was close.
More marshals crowded around.
But someone else was running.
A figure sprinting across the runoff area, helmet discarded somewhere behind him, breath heavy with panic.
Nico.
Nobody had realized he had stopped his car on the side of the track. Nobody knew he had jumped out and ran straight toward her.
He slid the last few feet, catching himself with one hand on the ground before grabbing her shoulders.
âYn! Yn, look at me. Heyâ hey, look at me.â
She blinked, finally focusing on his face.
He gently removed her helmet, hands shaking. âAre you hurt? Talk to me. Come on, kid. Talk to me.â
Her lips parted.
No sound.
Her breath hitched instead, chest jolting.
âYn, answer me, please.â He cupped her face now, thumbs brushing her temples. âAre you hurt anywhere, Liebling?â
A tiny nod. Barely perceptible.
His eyes softened, but fear still shadowed them. âWhere?â
She swallowed a sob. âM-my ribs⌠and my head⌠andâ I donât⌠I donât knowâŚâ
âOkay. Thatâs okay. Itâs okay, youâre okayââ He pulled her against him, hugging her so tightly she finally let go.
The dam broke.
She sobbed â real, shaking, broken sobs â her fists gripping the front of his suit. Nico held her, one hand on her back, the other cradling her head.
âShh⌠shh⌠youâre safe now. Iâm right here. Iâm not going anywhere, Liebes.â
The female marshal stroked Ynâs back, whispering soft words. âJust breathe, darling. Let it out. Youâre okay. Youâre so, so brave.â
Yn cried harder.
Her legs finally gave out, and Nico lowered with her, keeping her pressed to his chest as he knelt on the tarmac.
The medical car arrived minutes later.
âWe need to get her checked immediately.â
Nico stood, still holding her. âIâm coming with her.â
Nobody argued.
They put her in the medical car. Nico climbed in beside her, taking her hand instantly when she reached for him without even looking.
Her voice was weak. âDonât goâŚâ
âI wonât. Iâm right here.â
At the Medical Center, Max was pacing when they arrived, hands shaking, eyes red. Isaac and Ollie stood behind him, equally anxious.
He rushed toward the door the second it opened.
âYn!â His voice cracked. âZusje, come hereââ
But she was still clinging to Nicoâs arm, too scared to move without him.
Nico whispered to her, âItâs okay. Max is here. Youâre safe.â
She finally released him.
Max pulled her into his chest instantly, wrapping both arms around her head, pressing a kiss to her helmet-less hair.
âI thoughtââ His breath broke. âGod, Yn, I thought we lost you.â
She whimpered softly, burying herself into him.
Ollie arrived right after, eyes wet. âYn, you scared the hell out of us.â
She reached a trembling hand toward him. He took it and squeezed.
Isack hovered nearby, unsure if he should hug her or not, but she leaned into him when he approached. Isack rubbed her shoulder gently while whispering, âYouâre okay. Youâre okay. Youâre okay.â
The doctor called her name, and she was guided into the exam room.
Max stayed outside, pacing again.
Ollie sat down, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. âThat crashâ it didnât look survivableâŚâ
Nico was the only calm one, leaning against the wall, trying to slow his own breathing.
He had seen a lot in his career.
But nothing had hit him like watching her car flip through the air.
Max looked at him suddenly. âYou were with her. Thank you. I mean it⌠thank you.â
The moment Nico stepped outside, cameras surged toward him.
âNico! Why did you stop?â
âWhat made you run to her?â
âYou abandoned your car on track â why?â
âWere you the first one to reach her?â
He lifted a hand to quiet them, jaw tight, eyes tired.
âLookâŚâ He exhaled slowly. âIf it were my kid out there flipping like that, I would want someone â anyone â to run to them. Not wait. Not watch. Act.â
The reporters fell silent.
Nico glanced back toward the medical center door.
His voice cracked just barely. âYou can all thank God sheâs alive.â
And for the first time in a very long time, the media didnât ask anything else.
Inside, Yn was cleared for major injuries, but she had bruised ribs, a mild concussion, and emotional shock.
When she stepped out of the exam room, she looked smaller, wrapped in a blanket around her shoulders, eyes swollen and red.
Max walked to her. âWant a hug?â
She nodded.
He held her again, arms protective. Ollie hugged her after, gentle and careful.
âDonât scare us like that again.â He whispered.
She let out a weak laugh. âWasnât⌠really my plan.â
Nico approached last.
She reached for him without hesitation.
He picked up her hand, squeezing it. âHow are you feeling now?â
âTired⌠sore⌠and scared.â Her voice cracked. âThank you for coming to me. When I got out⌠I didnât know where I was. And then you were just there.â
His eyes softened. âOf course I was. Iâm glad youâre talking now.â
âIâm sorry I cried on youâŚâ
âDonât be stupid, kid. Cry all you want. Iâll be there again if you need it.â
She smiled weakly.
Max wrapped an arm around her shoulders again, pulling her gently against his side. âLetâs get you somewhere quiet, yeah?â
As they walked out together, Nico lingered behind for a moment, watching her.
Alive.
Shaken.
But alive.
He let out the breath heâd been holding since the crash.
Spa had taken many things over the years.
This time, miraculously â it hadnât taken her.
User3: fernandoâs face is literally âshe will not survive Spainâ đ
@.haasf1team uploaded a video
âIce cream sundae race! đ¨ Esteban vs Ollie â who can finish building the tallest sundae?â
[Video: Ollie carefully scooping ice cream⌠Y/N with spoon already halfway through it.]
Top comments:
olliebearman: i swear she just appeared out of nowhere đ
estebanocon: she said âfor the cultureâ and then ate MY cherry on top.
User1: not the rookie bullying Ollie like heâs her little brother
User4: he's literally older than herđ
User2: Haas canât catch a break even in catering
User3: ICE CREAM GOBLIN STRIKES AGAIN đŚđš
kevinmagnussen: respect.
User5: ??
@.kicksauber uploaded a video
âPretzel twist-off 𼨠Nico vs Gabriel! Whoâs got the skills?â
[Video: Nico with perfectly shaped pretzel, Gabriel laughing at his fail⌠Y/N biting Nicoâs pretzel like itâs a breadstick.]
Top comments:
nicohĂźlkenberg: rookie?? RUDE.
gabriel_bortoleto: she ate mine too⌠and it was burnt!!
User1: sheâs literally speedrunning âhow to get banned from hospitalityâ
User2: can we start a rookie food tax?? pay up or no snacks.
User3: imagine Nicoâs face â 200% German disappointment
@.alpinef1team uploaded a video
âFrench baguette challenge đĽ Pierre vs Franco â fastest sandwich maker wins!â
[Video: Pierre slicing bread with precision, Franco piling toppings⌠Y/N walks in, grabs the finished baguette, and just leaves.]
Top comments:
pierreG44: SHE TOOK THE ENTIRE THING. THE WHOLE SANDWICH.
francocolapinto: âŚI didnât even get to taste it đ
User1: not her robbing the frenchmen of their national treasure đ
User2: baguette-gate will go down in history books
fan3: pierreâs face is literally âje suis fatiguĂŠ.â ("I'm tired.")
charles_leclerc: welcome to the club, boys.
@.redbullracing uploaded a video
âTheyâve stolen enough snacks from the other teams, so we gave them their own challenge đđĽ Max & Y/N take on the ultimate dumpling speed-eating contest! đĽâ
[Video: Y/N destroying dumplings like her life depends on it, Max laughing while casually eating at half speed. At the end, Y/N raises her hands in victory while Max side-eyes her empty plate.]
Top comments:
maxverstappen1: I was set up.
Ynuser: skill issue xoxo đĽ
checoperez: finally sheâs stealing OUR food and not the whole gridâs.
User1: red bull saw the chaos and said âfine, weâll fund it.â
User2: the fact that max looks like proud dad watching his gremlin rookie eat 30 dumplings đ
User3: sheâs not a driver, sheâs a competitive eater who got lost and joined f1
carlossainz55: at least she didnât raid Williams today đ
williamsracing: we are still not recoveredđ
Lando.jpg: can we PLEASE get catering insurance before next race??
User4: netflix rn: âDrive to Survive: Rookie vs. Buffetâ
pierreG44: if she comes near my baguette again, iâm fighting her.
summary: Oscar and his teammate have a close hilarious relationship
Masterlist / TipJar
ynusername
liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, lewishamilton and 2,109,851 others
ynusername Photo of oscar accurately describes how I feel going into my home gp
view all 10,293 comments
oscarpiastri how do you always find the worst photos of me
ynusername i take them bb
oscarpiastri oh my god
user best teamates on the grid
user if only the mclaren car was better for them
user i think mclaren should be more worried about yn's insane internet presence
ynusername omg no..... dont tell them
mclaren you are mistaken we live for this
lewishamilton home race !
georgerussell silverstone !
ynusername Brit squad assemble !
landonorris here we come !
user YN is my favourite driver by a landslide
ynusername
liked by oscarpiastri, lewishamilton, georgerussell and 1,992,938 others
ynusername he may've been schooled in this country but he is in desperate need of an education on pure culture
view all 41,291 comments
user I love the fact the minute she is not racing she has the craziest nails
user are they acrylics
ynusername they are press ons, easy on easy off
ynusername easy way to be hot
oscarpiastri I love that these are the photos you post, you're education was not coffee shops and bookshops
ynusername what nope it was very mundane
oscarpiastri nothing with you is mundane
user shots fired
user petition for yn to release the other photos
landonorris petition signed
alexalbon petition signed
lewishamilton the most cultured driver crown might be passed down soon
ynpiastri omg can you knight me too
lewishamilton i wish!
user the crown needs to be passed on now
oscarpiastri
liked by ynusername, landonorris, lewishamilton, and 802,439 others
oscarpiastri Just shy of a podium but got to witness the united kingdoms honorary princess on a podium. (also its not her birthday, her birthday is in 8 months)
view all 99,204 comments
user its always her birthday!
user always !!
ynusername it is!
oscarpiastri I am not getting you gifts everyday
user he gets her birthday gifts..
ynusername mclaren domination in the foreseeable future
oscarpiastri so soon
user i love them
user they should date
f1fanupdates
liked by 3,420 users
f1fanupdates For the uneducated and borderline uncultured, meet the McLaren cuties. Teammates YN LN and Oscar Piastri channel the Gen Z unmedia-trained craziness. Having known each other from F3 days, their social media makes McLaren admins have heart attacks. Both having wins under their belt, it makes them a very strong team, a force. Would I be lying if I said they would be cute together...
view all 198 comments
user I love them, they are my parents, together or not
user they are iconic I hope they never get trained
user they are the hottest drivers, McLaren slayed with this pairing
user preach
user I already thought they were dating
user no they are just friendly
user I bet there are underlying feelings
ynusername
liked by oscarpiastri, lewishamilton, landonorris, and 2,202,420 others
ynusername checking out the opposition. checking OUT the opposition
view all 70,436 others
user she is unhinged
user she is iconic
user is she dating lewis
user nah lewis is married
user since when?!?
oscarpiastri don't you dare jump ship
ynusername can't promise anything pooks
oscarpiastri you better
mclaren you better
ynusername till death does us part x
lewishamilton you are not smart with this caption
ynusername innocent until proven guilty
lewishamilton you are baiting him
user WHO, LEWIS TELL US
user OMgggg drama
oscarpiastri
liked by ynusername, lewishamilton, landonorris and 892,104 others
oscarpiastri pov we were meant to be at the technology centre at 9. One of us was
view 67,241 comments
ynusername nooo youve made me look bad, it was traffic
oscarpiastri So, thats not an ice cold coffee in the selfie you sent me
ynusername no one was meant to see that
oscapiastri nothing you send me is safe sweetheart
ynusername I ... okay
user omg is she lost for words
user thats possible??
user omg they sent each other photos
user thats not a crazy thing
user just let me believe they have feelings
mclaren ohhhh thats why you were late
ynusername no not at all mother
mclaren mother is disappointed
oscarpiastri what is happening?
mclaren its okay son
oscarpiastri oh hell naw we are not siblings
user hes not helping the rumours
ynusername
liked by oscarpiastri, lewishamilton, mclaren, and 2,579,546 others
ynusername A visual representation of me trying to soft launch a relationship
view all 278,543 comments
oscarpiastri is this why you have been screaming/wheezing in your drivers room for the last 30 mins
user omg she is just like the rest of us
oscarpiastri shes been in tears screaming 'why do i have none without his face!!'
ynusername you are out of line Piastri
oscarpiastri wow, not the surname
lewishamilton very very accurate
ynusername huh
lewishamilton we are going to talk soon
ynusername @ anyone HELP ME
oscarpiastri nothing can help you now
user okay so who do we think it is
user oscar
user oscar
user oscar
user ah so a universal thought
f1fanupdates
liked by 8,250 users
f1fanupdates It has been five months since this soft launching started! We are almost in Abu Dhabi, and YN is still just teasing her partner. We all think it is Oscar, but it is still unknown. No matter who it is though, they look good together
view all 942 comments
user OSCARRRRR
user Imagine it is not oscar and it is some poor guy and now he's upset
user oh
user thats a good point
user OscarYN for life
oscarpiastri
liked by ynusername, lewishamilton, landonorris, and 1,240,567 others
oscarpiastri Hoping on the soft launching YN's relationship train
view all 82,459 comments
ynusername wow, thats my next post ruined
lewishamilton for the love of all that is good, just post him
ynusername booo
oscarpiastri no booo its getting boring
ynusername you think that, really.. ?
oscarpiastri i do yn girl
user this is hilarious
user i thought this was an YN post at first
user same!
user oscar is getting sick of it lol
mclaren There were three of us in this marriage, so it was a bit crowded
user not mclaren quoting princess Diana
user wouldn't it be four, mclaren, oscar, yn, yns partner
user i think you are delusional
user i think they are right
user mclaren outing there relationship...
ynusername
liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, lewishamilton, and 2,520,636 others
ynusername my man my man my maaaan
view all 97,577 comments
user its officalllll guys
user im so happy i was right
user they look amazing together
user hot couple
oscarpiastri finally a hard launch pookie
oscarpiastri was wondering when you would do it
ynusername i was teeing it up
lewishamilton its been a good 8 months of you two sneaking around the paddock
landonorris we all knew
maxverstappen i walked in on them making out fully behind the mclaren hospitatility
alexalbon we all did that day, it was basically public information
mclaren our evil plan finally worked
ynusername your what...
oscarpiastri your what...
mclaren nothing, doors sometimes just lock on accident
user not mclaren admin confessing to playing cupid
mclaren not just me, everyone, Zak once hid YN's car keys so Oscar had to drive her home
ynusername WHAT OMG I FEEL BETRAYED
oscarpiastri
liked by mclaren, ynusername, landonorris, and 1,924,250 others
oscarpiastri HR approved of photos 1 and 2 of my girlfriend
view all 45,266 others
user goddamm
ynusername OSCAR
oscarpiastri hey georgus
ynusername georgus?
oscarpiastri thats you
landonorris you guys make me sickkk
ynusername love you toooo
oscarpiastri hey...
ynusername x
mclaren we do not approve of the 3rd
oscarpiastri I do not want another HR meeting
ynusername THIS ONE WASN'T MY FAULT! DON'T MAKE ME SIT THROUGH ANOTHER
user what happened last time..
mclaren setting work place phyiscal intimacy boundaries
ynusername Oscar is not a good influence on me
oscarpiastri you aren't a good influence on anyone love
user I love these two so much
user best teammates on the grid
user the next brocedes
ynusername we arent having a dramatic public break up
lewishamilton oh
Soooo, after a long break, I am back with my favourite driver đŤđ. Hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing it (I criedâŚa bit)
Everyoneâs Favourite
Max Verstappen x Mercedes!Reader
He is the Rain of Milton Keynes, she is the Sun of Brackley â together they make the Rainbow of the grid
Because another one of their interaction prompts a random YouTuber to make a compilation of each time the Storm smiled for the Sunshine and each time the Mercedes Princess bowed down for the Golden Boy of Red Bull.
Warnings: None. Fluff. A YouTube video descriptionâmostly
Word Count: 3.2k
The title of the video was simpleâyet powerful enough to captivate every Formula One fan who knew them.
The pair who proved that love and rivalry could coexist at 300 km/h.
âThe MercBull Couple Being in Love for 7 Minutesâ
The video began with a clip from Barcelona 2022, the season she burst onto the gridâa rookie with fire in her veinsâand he, a reigning World Champion with a crown forged in dominance. The final notes of the Dutch national anthem lingered in the air, merging with the deafening cheers of the crowd. But the camera wasnât on Max.
Instead, it found her.
She stood on the lowest step of the podium, just to his left. The so-called Mercedes Princessâcheeks flushed with adrenaline, eyes alight with joy, and a grin too wide for someone whoâd just finished P3. But it wasnât just a third place. It was her second podium of an already electric debut season, earned under the weight of global scrutiny and a teammate with a godlike legacy.
Her high wasnât from champagne. It was from proving herself.
And then he turned.
Max looked at herânot with the cold composure of a titleholder, but with a warmth no one had ever associated with the man who shattered records with clinical precision. As the camera zoomed in, he leaned toward her and said something that made her laugh, the kind of laugh that spilled out before she could contain it.
The video froze mid-frame.
His grin lingered, soft and boyish. His blue eyes stayed locked on her, not with mischief, but something closer to awe. She looked down, lips curled, face glowing, and suddenlyâviewers werenât sure if her flushed cheeks were from the victoryâŚor from him.
Text appeared on screen, playful and glowing, while animated hearts danced around the couple:
âEveryoneâs Favourite Slow Burn Duo Being Absolutely Whipped for Each Other (for 7 Minutes Straight).â
It was followed by chaosâpure, unserious chaos.
A hilariously off-key rendition of âCanât Help Falling in Loveâ began to playâsung, or rather butchered, by Max in an old interview no one quite remembered⌠until now. The Internet had resurfaced it, of course. His accent was thick, his pitch nonexistent, but the soft look in his eyes while singing said everything. The comments were immediate: âHe wasnât trying to impress the world. He was looking at her.â
Then the scene cut to Azerbaijan, 2022.
Another podium, another round of Dutch dominance. Max stood at the top, flanked by Checo in P2, the gap between them almost insulting. And in P3âonce againâthe Mercedes rookie, carving her own path one race at a time. A brilliant defensive drive, strategic maturity, and sheer racecraft had earned her that step.
But it wasnât the race fans remembered.
It was what came after.
The screen shifted to the post-race interviewsâspecifically, hers. She was mid-answer, breaking down telemetry data and strategy with all the calm precision of a veteran, when he appeared from just out of frame.
Max.
He stepped in with a casual confidence, uttered a quick âcongratulationsââbut it wasnât just words. It was the way he did it. The way the camera caught the hug, full and easy, like second nature. His hands rested low, just where her fire suit hung tied around her waist. Her arms wrapped around his neck, drawing him close like it was the most natural thing in the world. He leaned inâhis head ducking to meet her heightâand said something against her ear.
Whatever it was, it worked. Her grin cracked wider, cheekbones high and eyes sparkling. And that flush? That flush wasnât podium joy. It wasnât exhaustion or track heat. It was brighter than the Ferrari sheâd battled on trackâand twice as telling.
That was the moment.
The moment the rumors became whispers, the whispers became theories, and the theories? They became speculations with receipts.
The video shifted againâthis time to the sun-drenched tarmac of Circuit Paul Ricard, Le Castellet. The familiar grain of race-day footage gave way to another iconic moment in the MercBull love story.
She had started the race from P6âmid-pack, disadvantaged, and boxed in. But chaos has always been her playground. With a masterclass in patience, well-timed overtakes, and a safety car that played right into her hands, she clawed her way up the grid. When the chequered flag waved, there she was againâon the podium. P3, behind her seven-time World Champion teammate Lewis Hamilton, and the man whoâd won the raceâMax Verstappen.
But what followed was pure cinematic gold.
The champagne bootlegs were popped, the corks flew, and the crowd roared.
Tradition dictated Max would turn and drench whoever came up to collect the Constructorsâ trophy on Red Bullâs behalf. But that traditionâlike many othersâwas quietly rewritten that day.
Instead, Max turned straight to her.
She was still fumbling with the wire cage of her bottle when he struck. In one swift move, he tipped his bottle forward, and drenched herâcompletely and unapologetically. Head to toe, sparkling champagne soaked into her fire suit as her shoulders jumped with silent giggles, mouth open in shocked laughter. The broadcast microphones didnât catch the sound, but the video didnât need it. The joy on her faceâthe glint in his eyesâtold the whole story.
The crowd noticed. Their cheers grew louder.
Lewis, never one to sit out a party, turned with a grin and joined in the chaos, spraying them both, but the real show? It was between the two of them.
Two drivers from rival teams, standing amid bubbles and roaring fans, not looking at the cameras, not acknowledging the world watchingâ
Just watching each other.
In that moment, surrounded by carbon fibre, champagne, and championship tension, it became blindingly clear:
They only had eyes for each other.
The screen faded into the next clipâgrainier than the rest, because it wasnât filmed by a professional broadcast team. No. This was fan footage, the kind that would live on in Twitter threads, Tumblr GIF sets, and TikTok edits titled âhe was never the villain to her.â
Hungarian Grand Prix Qualifying.
It hadnât been a great session for Max. Power unit issues plagued his final run, leaving him stranded in P10âa rare sight for the reigning World Champion. But the cameras werenât on him that day.
Because that dayâhistory was made.
She had taken pole position. The first woman ever in the history of Formula One to do so. Her name blazed across every timing screen, outpacing world champions, silencing critics, and writing herself into the sportâs history books with raw speed and ice-cold precision.
The video began with her standing outside the Mercedes motorhome. Her fire suit hung open around her waist. No helmet. No cameras. Just her, talking animatedly to her race engineer about tyre degradation, her hands moving with the passion of someone born to be on track.
Thenâhe walked in.
Max Verstappen. Still in his Red Bull team kit, a half-empty can of the energy drink in one hand, hair still damp from the helmet. And the moment he saw her, the entire vibe shifted.
The camera caught it.
That smile.
Not a grin. Not smirk. Something softer. Like a secret bloomed between them in real time, a language of looks and timing no one else could decode.
He walked up, unhurried. She turned to greet himâand the air shifted again. He didnât speak, didnât tease. Instead, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her cheek.
And she glowed.
Her smile broke across her face like sunlight cresting a horizon. Her cheeks flushed, her eyes flickered to the groundâand for a moment, she didnât look like a pole-sitter. She looked like a girl being seen as more than a driver.
The phone recording the moment shook, the fan behind the lens letting out a muffled squeal that was lost in the noise of paddock voices. But the footageâthe momentâwas already immortal.
Then, he held out his Red Bull can. Already opened, clearly sipped. But she didnât hesitate. She took it with a laugh, fingers brushing his like theyâd done this a thousand times before.
Her race engineer glanced at Max, then at herâand quietly slipped away.
Because even though heâd qualified tenth, and she stood atop the motorsport world, he looked at her like heâd won something far greater.
The screen dimmed to black, lingering just a second longer than expected.
And thenâa split screen appeared.
On the left: a grainy video feed from an interview so notoriously evasive it had spawned entire Reddit threads.
On the right: the footage that had, quite literally, shaken the foundation of the motorsport fandom.
Left sideâMax Verstappen.
The reigning World Champion sat in front of a sterile grey backdrop, posture loose but eyes sharp. He looked every bit the man whoâd won a championship fight against Lewis Hamilton. The interviewer, mid-forties, buttoned-up and clearly out of his depth, smiled politely before diving in:
âAre you dating someone?â
Maxâs reaction was instant. A shrug. A faint scoff. That trademark curl of the lipsâthe kind that told you he was in on a joke no one else understood.
âIâm currently focused on racing,â he replied smoothly, voice laced with disinterest, eyes darting somewhere off-camera.
âAnd racing alone.â
Right sideâchaos in stillness.
A video postedâand almost immediately deletedâby Charles Leclerc. The off-season had arrived, and so had Charlesâ annual yacht party, which was less a party and more a Mediterranean fever dream. The posted video had meant to show him and Carlos doing tequila shots and pretending not to flirt with each other across the bar.
But the background?
That changed everything.
Because just behind the chaos and clinking glasses, just past the laughing drivers and Ferrari crew, stood them.
Max and the Mercedes Princess.
Slow dancing.
No music audible. No choreography. Just themâswaying in a rhythm only they could hear. She rested her head on his chest, eyes closed, safe and small in the quiet corner of a world too loud. His hand cradled the back of her head, fingers threading through her loose hair, circling the base of her neck with an absent-minded tenderness that told the world: he knew exactly what he had.
He wasnât looking around. Wasnât worried about cameras, phones, or the internet.
He was looking at her like she was the only finish line that had ever mattered.
Meanwhile, Charles had realized his mistake. The video vanished within thirty minutes. But the fandom had already downloaded it, enhanced it, slowed it down frame by frame. Hard launch achieved. Reversal? Impossible.
And nowâplayed side by side, the irony was delicious.
On the left, Maxâs cold, clinical deflection: âIâm focused on racing and racing alone.â
On the right, Maxâcompletely in love, utterly undone, swaying with her like the world had stopped spinning.
The edit cut to black again, and a single line faded onto the screen:
âAnd racing alone⌠sure,â with a smirking emoji.
The screen faded from the split-screen chaos of Charlesâ yacht party, and this time, it opened to something grander. Louder. Unignorable.
SĂŁo Paulo Grand Prix.
A race already etched in memoryânot for the usual rivalries or lap times, but for what it came to mean.
The camera opened on pure history. Her carâtrimmed in black and silverâflashed across the finish line, victorious. After months of near-misses, late-safety-cars, and bad luck, the Mercedes rookie had won her first Formula One Grand Prix.
A woman. On the top step. In Brazil.
She had done it.
Held off her own teammateâthe seven time world champion, Lewis Hamiltonâwith iron determination and clean, defensive driving that made even the most cynical pundits call her a generational talent. The crowd roared. The commentators choked on their disbelief. Her name echoed through the paddock, loud enough to drown out everything else.
Except⌠not everything.
Because for Red Bull, the race had been a mess.
Max and Checo had clashedâtensions boiling over when Max refused to follow a team order to let his teammate through. The headlines were already being written, the media swirling. But the next momentâno one had seen coming.
Because when the podium ceremony began, and the Mercedes team gathered beneath the stage in celebration, Max was there.
No Red Bull gear. No media interview.
Just him, standing quietly among the Mercedes engineers, tucked near the backâwatching her.
The cameras, of course, found him.
There he was, expression unreadable but eyes locked on her like gravity itself had pulled him into place. She stood on the top step, helmet off, curls wind-swept, eyes shining with disbelief and joy. Champagne dripped down her race suit. Confetti tangled in her hair. A goddess in victory.
And thenâher eyes found his.
The noise of the crowd seemed to dim in that moment, like the world itself leaned in closer.
And Max, the man so famously composed, so often guarded, mouthed the words the cameras caught in perfect clarity.
âIk ben de jouwe.â (I am yours)
The words that detonated across the fandom like a starter light going green.
It wasnât speculation anymore.
It wasnât an edit, or a fanfic, or a whisper behind paddock doors.
It was real. It had always been real.
The screen faded again, soft and slow.
And then came the final clip.
The one that shattered even the last holdouts, silenced the cynics, and left every fan reaching for tissues with shaky hands and full hearts.
Las Vegas, 2024.
The city of lights burned brighter than ever that night, a kaleidoscope of champagne, neon, and pure, undiluted history.
Because on that nightâMax Verstappen clinched his fourth consecutive World Championship, solidifying a legacy that few in the sportâs long history could rival.
And yet, that wasnât the only record broken.
Because just ahead of him, under the glare of the Vegas lights and the shadow of the Sphere, she stood on the top step of the podium once againâhaving led the race from start to finish with precision so ruthless it couldâve been scripted.
He won the title.
She won the race.
They won each other.
The camera cut to the pit lane, Red Bullâs garage a whirlwind of celebrationâengineers and mechanics losing their minds, flares in team colours lit like fireworks. Max was there, in the middle of it all, grinning as if someone had carved the weight off his shoulders.
And then the camera panned.
She appeared from the far end of the lane, still half in her fire suit, tied around her waist, undershirt clinging to her like armor. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes gleaming, adrenaline still crackling under her skin. Her smileâGod, that smileâstretched wide as she made her way to him with determined steps and arms outstretched.
He didnât hesitate.
His smile bloomed before she even reached him. And the moment she collided into his chest, he folded around her like she was the one trophy he truly cared about.
The Rain of Milton Keynes beamed down at the Sun of Brackley, and kissed her. Fully, deeply, right there in front of his team and the cameras and the roaring crowd.
And the cheers? They got louder.
She melted into him like she always had, and when they broke apartâshe giggled, breathless and flushed, and he blushed.
Max Verstappen, who had once said he was only focused on racing.
Max Verstappen, who once shrugged off love like it was a distraction.
Now standing in the heart of his team, holding the woman who made even winning feel better.
And thenâ
The screen shiftedâjust two pictures now, side by side, while Canât Help Falling in Love played gently in the background, the lyrics curling through the silence like a confession long overdue.
Wise men say
Only fools rush in
But I canât help
Falling in love with you
On the left, a photo from Barcelona 2022âher first podium. The moment that had started it all.
She stood grinning, fresh-faced and glowing, cradling her first Formula One trophy in both hands like it was a piece of the stars themselves. The camera had caught the joy in her face, unfiltered and radiant. But just off to the sideâhim.
Max.
His gaze wasnât on the crowd or the cameras. It was on her. A look so soft, so full of something quietly devotional, that only the slow-motion replay had made the world notice. He looked at her like a man already falling, even then.
Take my hand
Take my whole life, too
For I canât help
Falling in love with you
On the right, a newer photoâmore intimate, more telling. The FIA Prize Giving Ceremony in Rwanda.
She wore black, elegant and understated, silver embroidery glinting on the sleeves. He was beside her in classic formal wearâsharp lines, soft eyes. His hand extended toward her, steady and sure, as she placed her own into it, trusting, careful. The rumor was sheâd twisted her ankle the day before. The truth wasâhe wouldnât have let her walk alone, injury or not.
He helped her up the stairs, not as a world champion escorting a fellow driver, but as something more ancient. Something sacred. His smile was the sameâthe smile he wore only for her. His gaze unchanged from the one on the podium years agoâlike she was still the girl with the trophy in her hands, and he, the man who never stopped choosing her.
And her smile?
That smile told the entire story.
And just below the photos, in tiny, silver letters barely visible against the fading screen, a final line appeared:
âHe never needed to say the words.
He loved her like they were already understood.â
The screen faded to blackâsoft, final, and aching with the kind of silence that only follows something true.
And then, in the centre of the dark screen, a small white circle appeared.
The universal symbol for restart. For reliving. For never being ready to let go.
âReplay.â
Seven minutes of unscripted, unguarded, unfiltered love.
And one by one, across continents and time zones, on laptops and phones and projector screens, fans tapped it again.
Because the story these two drivers toldâwithout ever saying the wordsâwasnât just romance. It was devotion. Rivalry. Respect. Vulnerability. Fire and calm. Rain and sun.
Red Bull blue and Mercedes silver.
A storm and a sanctuary.
They were opposites, yesâbut in their love, fans had found something sacred. A kind of rainbow that formed between two corners of the paddock, between two people who shouldâve never fit but didâflawlessly.
So they watched it again.
Not because they had missed anythingâ
But because they couldnât not.
Because some love stories arenât about grand declarations.
Some are just about a glance on a podium. A shared drink in parc fermĂŠ. A hand outstretched on a darkened stage.
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"if you could be teammates with anyone else, who would it be?"
you stood in front of the camera and thought on it for a moment before you answered, "oh, easy! i'd choose charles! i'd say we're pretty close and i'm hopeful this year is the year we wins... but he'd have to beat me first!" then winked at the camera with your hands on your hips.
your teammate, max, was behind the camera and his ears were burning. he knew the question was a joke, but he didn't want to see his favourite teammate be on the same team with his most loathed rival.
in the hotel room, max's hand lingered across your back a little more as he guided you away from your hotel room and towards his. his nose brushed against your neck, taking in your scent before he went to open the door.
when he got the door closed behind you two, his hands were on you once more. his lips at your neck and between kisses he asked, "you'd pick, charles, huh?"
you squeaked, "they said pick someone else." you looked into max's eyes, "we're already teammates." and your eyes went a little wide as he pressed himself further against you. you two have had sex before, it was no secret - with the amount of time you spent together it was inevitable.
"could have picked anyone else." he said lowly as he rubbed up against you further and touched your chest, "you know how i feel about him. how he gets under my skin. i wouldn't want anyone to be on the same team as you. you're mine."
you knew his reaction was overbearing, but you knew that max deeply cared for you. he yearned for you deeply. the thump of his heart was in time with how much he adored you, needed you. so the idea of charles taking you away from him only poked at something in his brain.
you gasped when he bit into the skin of your neck, you knew it would bruise. but something curled in your gut as you felt the a certain lust wash over you.
"you're red bull or nothing." he said lowly, "by my side, or off the track." he said as he started to play with the front of your jeans, "i don't want charles to get the wrong idea, so tonight. i'm going to make sure you firmly remember who you belong to." he placed another kiss on your neck before you ended up in the bedroom and on the bed.
you could have said no, you could have stood your ground and had him slink away with his tail between his legs. but there was something about the domineering max that just made you wet. the looked in his eye, cold, commanding. he looked like the villain that everyone thought of him as.
you took off your branded t-shirt and you felt his gaze linger on your breasts. he licked his lips and you got your bra off, slowly your jeans came off too along with the rest of your under garments. socks throw in two different directions and your panties on the other side of the bed. max was quicker to get undressed before he got on top of you in bed. he pushed you up against the pillows and gazed down at you.
his cock was fully erect. you knew he got off to submitting you under him. he told you once that he liked when you posed a challenge on the track because that meant he could fuck you harder. a real champion can take anything, he told you once when he had you in a headlock and bullied your poor pussy.
"look at you." he said as he hiked your hips up closer to him, "see, this is what no other driver can have. you're just so sweet on the track, you're their little star. but you need someone to actually keep you safe. and charles would never do that." max said lowly and rubbed the tip of his cock up against you, "too trusting. you should only be trusting me."
you swallowed, "please, max." you held onto the pillows under your head and you lifted your hips a little to give him better access to your cunt. you were wet and max knew it. he loved that he carried that bit of control over you, easily making you soaked between your legs.
he remembered after a rough practice he spent what felt like half an hour rubbing your cunt through your driver's suit and he knew that you raced the next round with stickiness between your legs. risky move, but max had to plant those seeds early.
that after formula one, you wouldn't become an engineer or a reporter, or whatever else ex-drivers seemed to do. no, you'd be max's wife. and hopefully married after after that season ended.
he looked at you and licked his lips. you met his gaze as he sank his cock into you. you arched your back a little and he relaxed against you. and so did you. he planted his hands on either side of you, he leaned in to kiss you on the lips as you wrapped your legs around him.
"look at you." he said.
you shifted yourself on the bed a little and reached for him. your arms wrapped around his neck. you held on while he moved against you. pleasure moved through both of you. you loved the feeling, even with max's harsh words, you still felt affection for him. both as a teammate and a lover.
"i'm always looking out for you." he said, he drank in the sight of your face, "i want you well, i want you safe. and i want you as mine." his strokes started to move faster, he felt a slight fire in his gut from the feeling of his cock buried inside of you slick pussy.
you were on birth control, but still it was a risk to take you this way. to have him bare inside of you. but, it eased his jealousy just a little bit to know that he was the only man to ever take you this bare. to take you as his, all his.
"please, max. it feels so good." you encouraged him as you held on tighter, the pleasure was growing in your core as he rutted against you. there was something about how his cock moved inside of you that hit all the right areas that made your eyes roll a little out of pleasure.
"you don't know what you do to me." he said lowly, "i don't want you to ever think about having another teammate ever again. i want you to only need me by your side. matching cars, matching uniforms." matching last names.
he continued to thrust into you, he held onto the bedding a little tighter and felt the sweat at his brow. it was hot between you two. the movements of him against you only had you holding onto you tighter.
"max. fuck."
"i know, it feels good. you love how you feel under me. do you like being my teammate?"
you nodded and your nails nipped at the back of his neck as you held on, you swallowed before you said, "i love being your teammate, max. you know that!"
"do you want another teammate? want another man to fuck you the way i do?"
you shook your head, "never. never in a million years. i want us to win the constructor's this year!" you arched your back a little when his cock nudged against just the right spot that made you feel tingly all over. he laid another heated kiss on your lips and continued to fuck you quickly and roughly.
the headboard slammed against the wall from the force that he was fucking with you. you whined into the kiss and he held onto your hips tightly, you were pinned under him while he fucked you. he felt your body quake under him, the feeling of heat under your skin. you were the sparks in his brain and the fuel in his blood.
fucking you was the same intensity as driving. except he could let his mind grow hazy with each powerful thrust. to know you'd never want another meant the world to him, to know that you were all his. you moaned against his lips and clawed down his strong back.
you didn't last much longer. you broke the kiss and made a strong yet whiny noise as you came around his cock. you arched your back and squeezed your eyes shut as you climaxed. it only spurred him on, it made his heart hammer along with yours. the pleasure flooded your head and after you reached your peak, you let go of him and let him have his wicked way with you.
"beautiful." max said as he continued to fuck you strong thrusts. he left himself feel all of you, every inch of you felt warm under him. you were sweaty and hot. he licked his lips and the pleasure throbbed in his body.
"please, max. i'm sorry that i made that comment. i knew i couldn't pick you." you whined.
max kissed at your neck, "next time, pick someone else. alex, george, even carlos. just not charles, i won't let that sweet talker take you from me." you could feel the possessiveness in his tone.
he knew he was close, with a few more heavy thrusts he finished inside of you. he groaned under his breath and wiped the sweat from his forehead. your cunt fluttered around him and he drank in the feeling. you felt amazing, warm all over and so soft. he knew he had to have you always.
"perfect." he cooed before he pulled out and laid out next to you in bed. he cupped your face with his large hand. those large hands on your soft skin. he leaned in, "tell me again."
you opened your eyes and asked, "tell you what?"
"that you don't want charles."
you shook your head, "i don't want charles. only you, max." and you curled up closer to him. his touches were more gentle, the jealous beast in him calmed down. for now.
-
"if you could be teammates with anyone else, who would it be?"
you thought about it for a moment, the reminder of last time tickled in your gut. but quickly you looked back to the camera and said, "i'd have to pick, lando! he got really close to the wdc last year, but if we were teammates he'd have a little more competition."
and you knew behind the camera, max verstappen was seething. <3
summary: y/n and max are longtime rivals and former friends who find themselves colliding on track in spain and being forced to confront the feelings they've both been burying
pairing: max verstappen x driver!reader
fc & warnings: none and angsty, bad language, suggestive if you squint
requested: nope just inspired by spain
masterlist | pt. 2
ďž. âż ŕ¨â¤ď¸ŕ§â âż . ďž
f1 has made a post
liked by user1, user2, yourbff, yoursibling, mercedesamgf1, user4, user5, user6 and 634,530 others
f1: following an on track incident with mercedes driver, y/n y/l/n, max verstappen has dropped to p10 with a 10-second penalty.
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user1: DESERVED!!!!
user2: should've been more than 10 second penalty are you kidding
user3: nah max did nothing wrong
user4: max needs to leave y/n alone i'm so serious
user5: these two are always fighting
user6: i stand with my cancelled wife (max)
âż
you took a deep breath as you shut off the engine, your hands still trembling as you pulled the wheel out of its place and put it on the car. you had just spent the last five laps screaming over the radio, accusing max of deliberately turning in on you after heâd been instructed to give the position back. the contact had nearly put you both out of the race but somehow youâd limped over the line and managed to finish 4th despite the damage you sustained.
a forceful tap against your helmet broke through your thoughts and you looked up to find george standing at the side of your car. he offered his hand, no words, just calm eyes and quiet support. you hesitated for a moment, the tension in your shoulders refusing to ease but eventually took it. his grip was firm and grounding as he helped you out of the car.
âi heard what happened,â he said quietly once your feet hit the tarmac.
you ripped your gloves off, jaw clenched, gaze locked across the parc ferme where maxâs red bull was being wheeled back into the garage.
"yeah," you snapped, pulling your helmet off your head. "and this won't be the last you hear of it either."
âż
f1 has made a post
liked by user1, user2, yourbff, yoursibling, mercedesamgf1, user4, user5, user6 and 634,530 others
f1: two very different takes following the incident involving these two rivals in spain đŤ˘
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user1: y/n is handling this so much more gracefully than i wouldâve
user2: iâd give anything to be a fly on the wall for when these two inevitably run into each other in the paddock
user3: max doesnt need to say anything! he did nothing wrong!
user4: i dont understand why people are giving max the benefit of the doubt here.
user5: y/n should be legally allowed to punt him off the track in canada
user7: ofc the big baby doesnt wanna talk about it.
usr6: y'all are so sensitive. max was just racing her! not his fault she was in the way
user8: taking it out on y/n as if she was the reason red bull had a shit strategy??? have some shame max
âż
âfrankly he cost his team and himself a lot of points by pulling what he did today,â you said, voice clipped as you adjusted the collar of your fireproofs trying to keep your breathing even. âi mean iâm 4th in the race and 4th in the championship and thatâs really all that matters to me.â
the skysports mic hovered just a little closer, hoping to get a good sound bite from you. âif max wants to be a big crybaby and ruin his own races... iâm all for it.â and with that, you finished out the interview with short answers about canada and your plans to not talk things out with max.
the walk back to your motorhome felt endless especially as fans called out your name and cameras flashed around every corner. you didnât stop like you usually did... not for selfies, not for questions, not for anything. the last thing you needed was to see his smug face again so the quicker you got out of there the better. but as it usually does... fate had other plans.
you stepped into mercedes hospitality, finally exhaling, only to be met with an agitating grating voice.
âa crybaby, huh?â
you turned sharply, the door still half-open behind you. max stood with his arms folded, his jaw tight, his cheeks still red from the heat of the race and his narrowed eyes were locked onto you like a missile. âyes,â you said dryly. âan ego-driven man child with no concept of accountability.â
a couple of mechanics quickly ducked past, awkwardly pretending not to hear. you and max had a reputation especially after a few incidents last year... max stepped forward, voice low and sharp. âa man child? youâve got to be kidding me.â
you scoffed turning on your heel. âmax, I donât want to fucking talk to you.â
âtoo bad,â he bit out, already following behind you, his footsteps echoing in the narrow hallway. âi donât give a shit what you want.â
you reached your driverâs room and threw the door open, stepping inside quickly trying to shut it behind you but max caught it before it slammed in his face.
âget out!â you snapped at the dutchman.
âno!â he snapped right back. ânot until you drop the âpoor meâ act and admit you knew exactly what you were doing out there.â
âyou are insufferable,â you hissed, tossing your gloves onto the couch. âyou turned in on me, ignored the team and nearly wrecked both of us.â
âyou dive bombed into that corner like you had nothing to lose!â he shouted.
âfirst of all, i did not dive bomb you and second of all, I donât drive scared unlike the rest of the grid when big bad max comes by!â
silence crackled between you, thick and heavy, your chests rising and falling in sync as the adrenaline refused to die down. âyou are the fucking worst, max verstappen,â you whispered, voice shaking with anger, frustration, maybe something else you didnât dare name.
his eyes flicked to your lips for a half second before narrowing again. âfunny. i was about to say the same thing about you.â the air between you sparked like static. neither of you moved. neither of you dared to blink.
"i hate you." he said, almost like he was trying to remind himself of it. maxâs jaw ticked and for a second you thought he might back down. but instead, he took another step forward, closing the space between you. the door clicked shut behind him, whether by accident or intention, you werenât sure.
âyou think I hit you on purpose?â he questioned, voice lower now. âyou think Iâd throw away a podium just to mess with you?â
you let out a dry laugh, âwouldnât be the first time you let your ego drive the car.â
he smirked, âthats so rich coming from you. you're the only person on this grid who wants to win more than they care about keeping the car on the track.â
âbecause Iâm not here to play safe.â your eyes burned into his. âi race to win and if you canât handle that -â
âi can handle you,â he said, stepping so close your chest brushed his. âthatâs the problem. you donât scare me, lieverd.â
the dutch slipped off his tongue like a challenge, like something heavier than an insult, something personal. your heart thudded against your ribs. âoh, you think calling me âdarlingâ in dutch is going to make me melt?â you scoffed, shoving at his chest. ânewsflash, verstappen! iâm not one of your fans.â
his hand caught yours as it hit him, holding it firm between your bodies. his touch was calloused, warm. infuriatingly familiar.
âno,â he said, not taking his eyes off you or letting go of your hand despite you trying to pull it away. âyouâre worse. you get under my skin and stay there.â
you hated how close he was. hated how your body betrayed you and wanted nothing more than to lean further into him. and before you could stop yourself, before logic could win over impulse... you grabbed his face and crashed your mouth against his.
it was teeth and frustration, months of tension and post-race fury unraveling all at once. his hand came up to the back of your head messing up your hair and anchoring you like heâd been waiting for this as long as you had.
a loud knock pounded at the door a short second before it swung open, "y/n/n, i wanted to check on you after -" the familiar sound of lando's voice filled the room and despite the speed at which you and max had pulled away from each other.. he absolutely saw it all. "oh wow! ok soâŚ. you're fine i guess." he smirked.
you quickly patted down your messy hair and took a few steps away from max, "lando for the love of god you have to wait until someone replies back to your knock before barging in!!"
lando looked between you and max, completely ignoring your comment. "is this some sort of weird foreplay for you both?"
"lando," max warned. "please pretend like you never saw this."
"uhhh yeah, sure mate!" lando nodded but he was just about the least capable person you knew when it came to keeping secrets.
"i'm dead ass begging you to not tell anyone," you pleaded again.
"i won't."
âż
lando has added to his private story
view all story replies
maxverstappen1: say 1 word and no more trips on air max
lando: mmmm i think id survive mate
maxverstappen1: lando im begging you. this was the first and only time this has ever happened and i think her and i need to figure out whatâs going on before the whole paddock gets involved
lando: 𫣠you two are no fun!! tho i really think you both need to be honest with each other because i am fairly certain you both have a thing for the other one and i just need all this feuding to end
ynuser: you literally stepped out of the room 2 seconds ago!!!!!!
lando: and? iâm efficient
ynuser: lando youâre my best friend and all but donât think i wonât pull a max and try to run you off the track if you leak this
lando: only if you kiss me afterwards
ynuser: UGH NO
lando: donât worry iâm just making you both sweat i wonât explicitly tell anyone
ynuser: đđđđ in the 15 years iâve known you you have never once been able to keep a secret
lando: slander! i kept the secret when you hid maxâs gloves in karting and he couldnât find them
lando: now that iâm saying that ⌠have you had a crush on him since karting?????????
ynuser: you did not keep that secret you gave them back to him and no!!!!! i donât know!!! i donât think so!!!
lando: ughhhhh you donât think so?! how do you not remember girl
ynuser: i mean maybe i did! i was more focused on hating his guts because he wouldn't stop beating me
lando: sounds like a crush to me
ynuser: shut UP!! i need to process this
oscarpiastri: story time !
lando: YIPPEEEEEE
georgerussell63: TELL NE TELL ME TELLLLL MEEEEE
lando: i unfortunately canât
georgerussell63: youâve gotta be kidding me mate
lando: the subjects of the story have threatened my safety
georgerussell63: so the story involves max?
lando: HAHAHAHAHA
lando: it doesnât not include max
georgerussell63: and from there iâm gonna guess it also involves y/n/n
lando: youâre too good george
georgerussell63: iâm gonna keep stewing on the rest of this story. will report back when i think i figure it out
maxfewtrell: is it even a question mate???
lando: well ⌠no!
carlossainz55: spill the beans mi amigo
lando: technically not allowed to spill any beans but catch me in the paddock and i might whisper some hints
âż
thankfully, maxâs place in monaco was only a short walk from your own. under normal circumstances, you wouldnât have minded driving but in a place where everyone had a phone and every movement became a series of photos on some fan page as it often did in moncao, the last thing you needed was to be spotted pulling up to his building in one of your unmistakable cars. if someone clocked you heading toward the max verstappenâs apartment, alone, it wouldnât take much for the internet to piece things together.
so instead of hopping into your mercedes, you opted for stealth. you dressed down in plain athletic shorts, a random hoodie you stole from george and a baseball cap repping some obscure american university with oversized sunglasses and headphones in, you looked more like a jet lagged tourist than a world-class driver sneaking off to see her biggest rival.
each step of the 1 km walk was filled with overthinking and stress. you kept replaying the past in your head, combing over all the little things max had done through the years, things you hadnât ever though too hard about until now. maybe lando was right even though it pained you to admit that he may know something. max had unfortunately made it obvious you just hadn't been paying attention. from the karting days when heâd chase off any guy who got too close on track, to f3 when he picked fights with anyone who so much as looked at you twice in the paddock.
and then there was your 17th birthday party, mid-f3 season, when max had looked you dead in the eyes and told you you were the prettiest girl heâd ever seen. you thought he was just being nice since it was your birthday and you had a pretty rough race the day before but maybe heâd been serious. maybe youâd just been too naive to see it for what it was and too busy gaslighting yourself into believe max would never be interested in little old you.
you groaned under your breath, frustrated with yourself. how could you have missed all of it? youâd chalked up his distance after the f3 season to the pressures of moving up to f1 but maybe it wasnât just that. maybe it was you.
by the time you reached his building and knocked softly on the door, your heart was already racing. there was a beat of silence then the sound of shuffling footsteps before the door swung open.
âyouâre late,â max said, eyes scanning your face and outfit with that unreadable expression of his.
you glanced at your watch. âonly by 2 minutes.â
he rolled his eyes and stepped aside to let you in. âcan I get you anything? dinnerâs still cooking.â
you slipped off your shoes and dropped your bag onto the counter, trying to steady your nerves. âjust water.â
he moved through the kitchen quietly and when he placed the glass in front of you, he didnât say a word just went back to stirring the pot on the stove. the silence was heavy and the tension was palpable.
without turning around he cleared his throat. âso⌠I wanted to talk and I thought it would be better face to face. so, thank you for coming.â
you nodded, picking nervously at your nails. âyeah. no problem.â
he turned off the burner and set the pot aside before finally facing you. âfirst off, iâm sorry. for spain that is... i shouldnât have driven like that.â
you raised your hands slightly, voice soft. âitâs okay. weâve both made dumb decisions on track.â
max shook his head. âyeah, but I couldâve hurt you. and if I had⌠i donât know how Iâd live with that.â
there was a moment of silence as his words sank in. âmy behaviorâs been childish,â he admitted. âiâve been bitter and i'm fully ready to admit that i've also been jealous. i was so very jealous of the friendship you, lando and george had and still have and of how you're always able to light up a room when you walk into it and of how you so effortlessly always get everyone to like you."
"max-" you started before he continued.
"i know it sounds pathetic but i wanted nothing more than to be your friend all through karting and through f3. i did everything i could to try and get you to like me and i got so stupidly infatuated that i ended up messing it all up in the end. i just... i don't know... i pulled away after f3 because I was embarrassed. when I asked you out at that party and you rejected me, I didnât know how to face you again. and then when you didnât reach out either, i assumed you didnât want me in your life anymore.â
âi didnât realize you were asking me out,â you whispered. âi thought you just wanted to hang out as friends which we already did. and when you moved to f1, i figured⌠i just figured you wouldnât want to waste time on someone stuck in f2. you were and are so good and focused and determined that i always felt intimidated and like a silly little distraction.â
max let out a short, breathy laugh. he ran a hand through his hair and leaned against the counter, still not fully looking at you. âgod, weâre idiots,â he muttered and this time you cracked a small smile despite the lump in your throat.
âyeah,â you agreed softly. âworld class athletes and total emotional amateurs.â
that got a quiet chuckle out of him, and finally, he brought himself to look at you. "why did you kiss me?" he asked and you could see the vulnerability written all over his face.
"because despite our silly year long feud which we apparently could have avoided, i haven't been able to let go of the crush i've had on you since we were kids."
he pushed off the counter, slowly stepping toward you. âso then you feel the same way about me?â
you looked up at him, heart hammering in your chest. âmax⌠i--â
âiâm not asking for you to tell me that you love me or anything like that. not right now. i just want to stop pretending like i hate you. i want to stop turning every interaction into a fight because i donât know how else to act around you. i want to be around you⌠properly. at the very least just as your friend.â
your stomach flipped at his words. all the years of missed chances and misread signals crashed into you like a wave. âand if i say i want that too?â you asked quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.
he smiled it was soft and hopeful, a little nervous. âthen i'll do everything in my power to do it right this time. starting by actually communicating my feels instead of bottling everything up.â
you stood from the stool, your steps slow but steady until you were right in front of him. âi guess i can give you a chance,â you said, teasing gently.
max raised a brow, a smile creeping to his lips. âjust a chance?â
you let your head fall back with a laugh. âdonât push your luck, verstappen.â
he grinned, and for the first time in what felt like years, the tension that had formed between you began to finally unravel.
âż
f1 has made a post
liked by mercedesamgf1, lando, yourbff, redbullracing, isackhadjar, ynuser, yoursibling, maxverstappen1, and 834,222 others
f1: looks like our two favorite rivals have squashed their beef! y/n y/l/n and max verstappen arrived to the montreal paddock for media day together đđ¨đŚ
view all comments
user1: too worried about how shes out mogging him so hard to even be able to comprehend whats happening
lando: war is over! if only anyone listened to me EVER
danielriccardo: or me!! a certain dutch lion didn't listen to me either
lando: SMH
user2: not them walking in like they didnât try to kill each other in spain đ
geogerussell63: confused? ynuser unlock your driver room door rn i've been knocking for 3 whole minutes
ynuser: girl i'm not in there. i'm at the briefing YOU ARE ALSO SUPPOSED TO BE IN
georgerussell63: RUNNING
user63: nah i love yngeorge duo so much i wanna be their friend
lando: apparently everyone wants to be friends with y/l/nnorussell user63
ynuser: lando keep his mouth shut challenge failed
user63: WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?!
user3: weâve entered the enemies to lovers era and iâm not emotionally prepared for this. i give it 3 more races till we get pics of them kissing behind the garages
isackhadjar: the plot twist of the century? are we being for real right now?
liamlawson31: i saw them with my own to eyes laughing together earlier
yukitsunoda0511: should we be afraid?
user4: this is why i trust slow burns. THIS is why!!!!
estebanocon: iâm scared
oscarpiastri: real
user5: now what in the fanfiction is this
skysportsf1 has posted an interview
view transcript
[reporter] âmax, I have to start with the question everyoneâs asking. you showed up to the paddock today with y/n y/l/n. should we be expecting fewer fireworks between you two this weekend?â
[max] âthat depends. if she stops driving like shes in a demolition derby, maybe.â
[reporter] âso... not exactly a truce, then?â
[max] âwe had a conversation and weâve cleared a few things up.â
[reporter] âok but things got heated after spain. you were both pretty vocal over the radio. what changed?â
[max] âsometimes you say things in the heat of the moment. doesnât mean theyâre the full story. weâve known each other a long time and i think we forgot that for a while.â
[reporter] âso where does that leave things now?â
[max] âweâll race like we always do. hard. but with a bit more respect, i think. maybe less screaming but who is to say.â
[reporter] âshould we be reading into that very coordinated arrival this morning?â
[max] âyou can read into whatever you want. i'm just here to win races.â
[reporter] âright, right. and if you win this weekend, will y/n be the first to congratulate you?â
[max] âshe better be.â
ďž. âż ŕ¨â¤ď¸ŕ§â âż . ďž
a/n: i love a past friends to enemies to lovers fr. part 2 perhaps?????
ďž. âż ŕ¨â¤ď¸ŕ§â âż . ďž
disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction
Š norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform
Summary : Fans compiled clips of their favourite moments between Lando and Aston Martin driver!reader.
Words: 2.2k
Warnings: swearing
Speculation continues to swirl around McLarenâs Lando Norris and you, Aston Martinâs young star, with many fans convinced there's more than just friendship between the two of you. Though neither you, nor Lando had confirmed anything, and no solid evidence had surfacedâyour playful interactions and unmistakable chemistry have only added fuel to the fire.
these moments do not help your case.
The water bottle
It was post-race at the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix. Lando, Max and you, sat slumped on the nearest sofa, drained after securing P1, P2, and P3 respectively. The heat still clung to the air, even off-track, and your race suit stuck uncomfortably to your skin. The podium made it all worth itâbut right now, all you wanted was a cold drink and a second to breathe.
You reached for the bottle water baside you lazily, hand sluggish and aching, half-listening to Lando as he answered a journalist's question about race strategy. The exhaustion weighed on your limbs, making the simplest takst of uncapping the bottle feel like such a challenge.
âThe team knew what was needed to stay ahead of Max andâugh, sorry. Here, let me.â
Without skipping a beat, he set down his mic, reached over, and easily twisted the cap open before handing the bottle back to you. You blinked in surprise, lips parting, but all that came out was a quiet, breathless âThanksâ as you took a sip.
Max let out a snort of laughter beside you. âSorry, letâs pause the whole interview for this sweet little moment,â he teased, shaking his head.
Lando just rolled his eyes and grabbed his mic again, continuing as if nothing had happened. But judging by the grins from the journalists, and the certainty that the clip would be everywhere within the hourâit hadnât gone unnoticed.
Lando is known for his champagne celebrations on the podium. Sure, it looks glorious, basking in victory, champagne flying through the airâbut no one ever talks about the reality: it burns your eyes, floods your nose, and leaves your skin and hair sticky.
You stood tall on the top step, your first-ever win still sinking in. The crowd roared as your national anthem played, and you could feel your heartbeat thundering in your chest, pride swelling with every note. On either side of you stood Lando and Lewis, but it was Landoâs cheeky grin that caught your attention just as the anthem reached its peak.
The second it ended, chaos began.
Corks popped. Champagne exploded. And Lando, of course, immediately slammed his bottle down and aimed it straight at you.
You barely had a second to react. The cold spray hit from both sides, soaking you instantly as you struggled to open your own bottle. It poured down your face, into your suit, burning your eyes and blurring your vision. Landoâs laugh, loud, carefree, unmistakable, rang out over the madness.
You blinked rapidly, trying to wipe your face, unable to see a thing. Your expression probably said it all: somewhere between shocked and helplessly amused.
Then, through the chaos, you felt his hands on your face, gentle and steady. Landoâs fireproof sleeves brushed against your skin as he carefully wiped away the champagne from around your eyes, his thumbs moving with a softness that contrasted sharply with the wildness around you.
âYou good?â he asked, laughing quietly, his grin now more sincere than mischievous.
You nodded, finally able to meet his gaze again, still catching your breath. âI swear, Iâm never letting you near me with champagne again.â
Landoâs smile widened as he gave you a pat on the back. âI had to make it memorable!â
This video clip sent your's and Lando's shippers into a full-on spiral. After the Mexico Grand Prix, where Carlos Sainz and Lando secured an electrifying 1-2 finish, the pair were spotted celebrating with Carlosâ friends and family over dinner. A few lighthearted posts even made their way onto social media.
But what really caught fansâ attention was a blink-and-youâll-miss-it detail in one of the photos. In the background, seated next to Lando, was someone who sharp-eyed fans quickly identified, you. Wearing the same distinctive sweater you were seen in earlier that day when leaving the paddock, and the unmistakable bracelets you frequently wore throughout the season.
There was no official mention or tag, but that didnât stop the speculation. For many fans, it was another subtle breadcrumb confirming what theyâd suspected all along. The internet lit up with theories, edits, and speculation, convinced that yet another quiet public appearance had just taken place this time, tucked into a cozy moment with the Sainz family.
Lando and you have made several unexpected appearances on Daniel Ricciardoâs iconic JPG Instagram account. While it wasnât unusual for the three of you to be seen together, given the tight-knit friendship between Daniel, Lando, and yourselfâfans didnât hesitate to dive deep into the posts, convinced they were subtle clues feeding the long-standing theory that thereâs more between you and Lando than just friendship.
One photo showed the three of you in a mirror selfie inside an elevator. Daniel, played photographer, camera in hand, while you and Lando stood casually beside him. At first glance, it looked like a typical group pic, until fans zoomed in. Slung over Landoâs shoulder was your bag, resting there like it belonged, as if it had found its place without either of you thinking twice about it.
Another upload showed a moment at a karting track. You were standing beside your kart, preparing to head out, when fans noticed the figure next to you. Though his helmet covered most of his face, there was no mistaking it, Lando. He stood close, hands carefully adjusting your helmet strap, focused and steady. The gesture was small, but intimate, and the natural ease between you didnât go unnoticed.
Within hours, the comment sections were flooded with theories and heart-eyed emojis. To the internet, these werenât just photos, they were proof.
The truck moved at a crawl, weaving past grandstands packed with fans shouting your names and waving flags like their lives depended on it. You kept your sunglasses on, smile practiced, waving just enough to look friendly, nothing more, nothing less.
Lando stood beside you, doing the exact same thing. Waving, smiling, keeping the conversation low between the two of you. Like you werenât both trying not to laugh at the stupid inside joke heâd just whispered about a guy holding a "Marry Me, Lando" sign.
Heâd helped you into the truck earlier, hand out like a reflex, fingers brushing yours a second longer than necessary. No one caught that. At least, you thought so.
And then came the moment. You were both waving, smiling, still laughing at something only you two found funny, when Landoâs hand casually dropped to the small of your back as the truck began to make a turn at a corner. Barely there. Light. Familiar.
Too familiar.
It lingered for just a second before he suddenly realized. His hand flew back like heâd touched something hot, and he looked ahead like nothing happened. But you could see the panic flash across his face for a split second.
You didnât say anything, just smirked.
Unfortunately for both of you, Charles did notice, and so did your fans. From the truck behind, he leaned over dramatically and yelled, âOooohhh! I saw that, penalty for Norrisâ
Lando groaned under his breath. You tried, and failed, not to laugh, biting your lip as your shoulders shook.
âSmooth,â you teased him, still smiling to the crowd.
âTiny slip up, just a friendly handâ he whispered, eyes still forward like a guilty schoolboy.
He glanced over his shoulder, then muttered with a grin, âIf this ends up on a fan camââ
You bumped his shoulder playfully. âPlease. Theyâve already made ten TikToks about us just from this truck ride alone.â
The rain had been relentless, hammering down onto the track, forcing a red flag that left drivers scattered around the paddock like bored students on a rainy field trip. Some retreated to their garages, napping, listening to music to stay focused, while others found creative ways to pass the time. A few were even caught playing football with balled-up tire warmers.
You, Lando, and Carlos had ended up in a quiet corner of the paddock, chatting while waiting out the weather. The broadcast cameras, desperate for content, eventually found their way to your little trio, panning slowly toward the three of you laughing at something Carlos had said.
Then the focus shiftedâsubtly, but noticeablyâto just you and Lando.
Lando stood close, holding an umbrella tilted almost entirely your way, rain spattering off the edges while he stayed mostly outside the shelter himself. His hoodie was already damp, but he didnât seem to care. You nudged him at one point, trying to shift it so he wasnât fully out in the wet, but he just gave you a boyish grin and said something that made you laugh.
Thatâs when the Max Fewtrell, Lando's good friend, side eyes his running twitch stream, knowing full well the moment the camera just caught would send fans into a full blown spiral.
Max paused. Blinked. And then, slowly, looked straight into the camera with the most dramatic, expression he could manage.
âRight,â he said, eyes wide, the corners of his mouth twitching with a grin. âSo itâs that kind of weather delay, huh?â
The chat exploded within seconds, fans already reading into the umbrella, the body language, the fact that Lando didnât seem remotely interested in moving.
Max leaned in, voice dropping and thick with teasing.
âAlright chat, calm downâcut our boy some slack and give him a fighting chance.â
Back on screen, Lando caught the camera out of the corner of his eye, shifted the umbrella just enough⌠and casually rested a hand on your back, if only for a moment.
Carlos caught it. You caught the smirk.
Max definitely caught it.
âLook at these twoâalready causing more buzz than the race itself.â
To this day, fans swear the annual driver Christmas gift exchange was the clearest sign that something more was going on between you and Lando Norris.
It was already suspicious enough that, out of all the names in the bucket, you and Lando somehow ended up picking each other. But what truly sent the internet into a frenzy were the giftsâthoughtful, personal, impossibly specific. The kind of presents only two people who knew each other too well would give.
Lando was mid-unwrapping, his usual excited grin slipping into a confused frown as he rotated the box in his hands, trying to make sense of it.
âOh, shââ His eyes widened. ââSorry, cut that out,â he added quickly, glancing toward the crew with a sheepish grin.
Inside the box: a 1:1 LEGO replica of Landoâs first-ever karting helmet. Every detail was thereâfrom the exact color scheme to the little decals only a handful of people would remember. Attached to the side of the box was a small envelope. He opened it and read aloud:
âFrom someone who knows how much this still means to you.â
Lando went quiet. Just for a second. The camera zoomed in slightly, catching the subtle shift in his expression.
âWho do you think your Secret Santa was?â someone asked off-camera.
âOh, I know exactly who it was,â Lando said, chuckling softly. âStill kinda freaky how she managed to pull this offâIâm guessing my mum or dad helped her out.â
âDid they do a good job?â
âItâs perfect,â he said, smiling as he gently patted the box. âI love it. Definitely looking forward to building it and putting it on display.â
âAnd do you think the person you got will like their gift?â
Lando laughed under his breath. âI mean⌠I got her. And sheâs already beaten me in the gift departmentâbut yeah, I really hope she does.â
The video then cut to you, sitting just outside Aston Martinâs hospitality unit, carefully unwrapping a paper bag handed to you just before filming began.
âWho do you think your Secret Santa is?â
You glanced up, laughing as you peeled away the last bit of tissue paper. âCharles, maybe? Heâs been asking me about my hobbies recentlyâlike, weirdly specific questions.â
Your eyes dropped to the contents of the bag: a vintage film camera and a leather-bound journal. Your race number and initials were engraved on the cover in gold. You flipped it open slowly, revealing a message on the inside page:
For every moment you want to remember, and the ones you think youâll forget.
You let out a breath, covering your mouth with your hand. âNo way. This is soââ You shook your head, smiling. âThis is so nice. You guys⌠best Secret Santa season ever, I think.â
Then you paused, adding with a laugh, âNo offense to Alexâhe got me that spa voucher last year and it was amazing.â
âAny idea who your Secret Santa was?â
You smiled, chuckling as you hugged the journal to your chest. âYeah, I do.â
âStill think it was Charles?â
âNah, Iâm pretty sure he was just genuinely curious about my hobbies,â you laugh.
âAny other guesses?â
You shake your head with a grin. âNope. I know exactly who it wasâand I really hope he liked what I got him, too.â