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mrschtappen · 1 month

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𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐄

I : The Call of the Circuit -> II : Dreams Ignited (soon) -> III : Untitled (soon)

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Max Verstappen x Schumacher!reader

Synopsis: childhood friends Max Verstappen and you, the daughter of racing legend Michael Schumacher, evolve from best friends to fierce rivals to teammates. maybe then to lovers....?

Monday, 10th December, 2018 Faenza, Italy

You sat alone at your new office, your eyes fixed on the glowing screen of your phone. The Twitter announcement you had posted earlier that day was still causing ripples across the internet, igniting a firestorm of reactions and responses from fans and followers around the world.

As you scrolled through the flood of comments, memes, and well-wishes flooding your feed, a smile tugged at the corners of your lips. The overwhelming wave of support and excitement from your supporters served as a poignant reminder of the incredible journey that lay ahead.

You made sure you turned off the lights of your new office when you were about to go. Settling inside your Audi R8, the soft chime from your phone took your attention away from driving.

As you read Max's message about bringing a Michael Schumacher merch from Germany, a wave of mixed emotions washed over you. The mention of your father's name, especially in connection with Germany, brought back vivid memories of the ski accident that had changed your lives forever in 2013.

your heart felt heavy, a subtle ache resurfacing as you recalled the challenging times that followed your father's accident. The uncertainty, the hope, and the unwavering support from loved ones, including Max, during those difficult years played like a reel in your mind.

Despite the pain and the bittersweet nostalgia, you weren't angry with Max for bringing up those memories. In fact, you felt a sense of gratitude for his thoughtfulness and the comfort of your shared history. Max had been a pillar of strength and understanding throughout your journey, and his genuine care and friendship meant more to you than any merchandise ever could.

Sitting alone in your car, you took a moment to let the emotions wash over you. You reflected on your journey and the pivotal decision to join Formula 1, a deep sense of determination and purpose filled your heart. Since you were three years old, the dream of racing in F1 had been a beacon of hope and ambition, driving you to push boundaries and defy expectations.

You knew that stepping onto the track wasn't just about fulfilling your childhood dreams; it was also a tribute to your father and the legacy he had built. The memories of watching Michael Schumacher's triumphant moments, especially his 6th championship title, had ignited a spark within you, fueling her passion and commitment to chase after her own aspirations.

Despite the challenges and the weight of the past, you felt a profound sense of gratitude and pride. You knew that your journey was a testament to your resilience, determination, and the unwavering support of those who believed in you, including Max.

Sunday, 12th October, 2003 Suzuka, Japan

As a three-year-old, you may not have comprehended the complexity of Formula One racing, the excitement buzzing in the air, the infectious energy of the crowd through the grandstands. The vibrant colors of the racing cars zooming past, the deafening roar of engines, and the flashes of cameras captured your attention, painting a kaleidoscope of sensory impressions.

Although your understanding was limited at such a tender age, the sight of Michael Schumacher, dressed in his iconic red racing suit, elicited a sense of pride and admiration within your young heart.

"That's my dad !" your little fingers pointed at the red car zooming the finish line, practically screaming at everyone as you started clapping then.

The warmth of your mother's embrace welcomed you as you cheered together, caught up in the euphoria of the moment.

your eyes wide with wonder as you watched your father bask in the spotlight and as Michael Schumacher descended from the podium, triumphant and beaming with joy, his eyes sought out you, your mother and your older brother Mick in the crowd. With a tender smile, he reached out to scoop up his young daughter, lifting you into his arms and hoisting you high above the crowd.

the cameras flashed and the crowd erupted into applause, you enjoyed the attention, feeling like the luckiest girl in the world to be held in the arms of your racing hero.

The image of your bond captured for all to see, you knew that this was a moment you would cherish forever—a moment when you felt truly seen and cherished by the man who meant the world to you.

your dad, Michael Schumacher.

Saturday, 27th November 2003. Gland, Switzerland

you stepped onto the karting track for the very first time, your heart pounding with excitement and nerves. The whole family was there along with your dad's friend's family, the Vertsappens. With your tiny hands gripping the steering wheel of your go-kart, you were confused on how the whole kart operates.

"You've got this schatzi !" You heard your dad cheer for you from a distance, calling you a nickname that means sweetie in German.

Frustrated, you spoke

"How do I do this ?"

Max Verstappen, the seasoned six-year-old racer, flashed you a mischievous grin as he leaned over to offer his expertise.

"Watch and learn, little rookie. First, you gotta push down on the pedal like this..."

With a swift motion, Max demonstrated, his foot pressing down on the accelerator pedal with practiced ease. You watched intently, your eyes wide with fascination.

"Like this?"

you mimicked Max's actions, but your foot hesitated on the pedal, unsure of the right amount of pressure to apply.

Max chuckled, reaching over to gently guide your foot.

"Almost there, y/n ! You just need to press a little harder."

you nodded eagerly, determined to master the art of go-karting with Max's help.

"Got it! Thanks, Maxie !"

As you zip around the track, the conversation turned to your shared love for Formula One racing.

"Do you think we'll ever drive in Formula One, Max ?"

Max grinned, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.

"Of course! And when we do, I'll be the world champion, then Mick and you will be my trusty sidekicks."

you rolled her eyes playfully, a giggle escaping your lips.

"Dream on, Max! I'll be the one leaving you in the dust!"

"Hey, you two ! How's it going ? " a familiar voice chimed in from behind you, causing both Max and you to turn around

Max grinned, giving Mick a playful nod.

"We're having a blast ! little rookie here is a natural behind the wheel."

you blushed at the praise from Max

"Thanks, Maxie ! And hey, Mick, I'm going to beat you someday !"

Mick laughed heartily, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Is that so ? Well, I look forward to the challenge ! Let's see who can get to formula one first"

Your banter filled the air with laughter as the three of you raced around the track, your friendship growing stronger with each passing lap. And as you crossed the finish line second, just a few millisecond behind Max, a smile grew wide on your face.

"Looks like you've got a prodigy, are you sure this is her first time ? She's a natural" Max's dad said, a chuckle escaped from your dad

You crossed the finish line just 4 tenths of a second later than someone who was 3 years older than you. You can feel the pride surging even when you were just so little.

"wow you're fast" your older brother said, giving you a high five as you returned it enthusiastically with a tiny jump

"yeah, not so bad little rookie !" Max also gave you a high five

you smile with your tiny teeths showing, your dad embraced you, lifting you up in the air

"my daughter is a soon to be formula one racer, and the world shall know you as for you are, not the daughter of a six time world champion but y/n Schumacher."

you couldn't help but feel grateful for everyone's guidance and support, knowing that with them by your side, you knew you were able to achieve anything.

Thursday, 14 March 2019 Melbourne, Australia ROUND ONE

As you took your first steps out to greet the fans, a wave of exhilaration and gratitude washed over you. The energy from the crowd was palpable, a mix of excitement, anticipation, and overwhelming support. The sight of fans waving flags, holding up banners, and wearing team colors was a surreal and heartwarming experience for you.

Walking along the barricades, you were met with a sea of merchandise bearing your name and face, along with the iconic Michael Schumacher memorabilia that fans had brought along. The presence of the Michael Schumacher merchandise added an extra layer of emotion to the moment, reminding you of the legacy you were a part of and the immense responsibility that came with it.

As you greeted fans, signing autographs and posing for photos, several fans couldn't help but comment on the striking resemblance between you and your legendary father, Michael Schumacher. Their kind words and compliments about your beauty and resemblance to your father filled you with a sense of pride and humility.

Amidst the flurry of interactions, one fan caught your attention with a cheeky remark that left both of you laughing.

you backed away with laughter, cupping your mouth, looking at a marriage certificate by an older fanboy, a good looking one you couldn't lie.

"I'm 19 !" You exclaimed, a wide laugh still visible on your face

"Maybe in a few years !" You joked, before moving to another fan, signing her cap with the number 57 on it, a number you chose to drive for.

It was media day today which means there's no driving and the press conference began with Lewis Hamilton from Mercedes, Sebastian Vettel of Ferrari, Daniel Ricciardo from Renault, Max Verstappen of Red Bull Racing and of course yourself, y/n Schumacher from Scuderia Toro Rosso.

"We’re gathered under very sad circumstances, following the news that Charlie Whiting, the FIA’s Director of Formula One died during the early hours of this morning. I’d like to start this press conference by asking each of the drivers present for their thoughts and memories of Charlie. Lewis, could we start with you, please?" Lewis spoke to the mic

"I’ve known Charlie since I started in 2007. I made some comments this morning on my Instagram. It may have not worked, as I think it’s down but obviously incredibly shocked this morning to hear the sad news and my thoughts and prayers are with him and his family. What he did for this sport, I mean, his commitment… he really was a pillar, as Toto said, such an iconic figure in the sporting world and he contributed so much for us, so may he rest in peace."

as the other drivers stated their comments regarding the passing of the late Charlie Whiting, it was your turn to answer

"How about y/n ? I believe this has come to a big shock as well as your father was also racing when he was the f1 racing director ?"

"yes, my father raced during Charlie's tenure as F1 Racing Director. I've met Charlie a few times and found him to be a wonderful person. His dedication to safety and fairness in Formula One was unmatched. Charlie's ability to connect with everyone in the paddock and his unwavering passion for the sport made him irreplaceable. My thoughts are with his family, friends, and the entire FIA community during this tough time. His legacy in Formula One will always be remembered"

as they continued tho the next question, you were shocked as to how bold and daring for this male interviewer to ask the whole lot of drivers with you

"Given the whispers around the paddock about nepotism getting y/n Schumacher this seat due to her father's legacy, and considering she is the sole female on the grid, do you drivers genuinely believe she is as competent as the other drivers, or do you acknowledge a potential gap in her skill?"

As the interviewer's words cut through the tension of the room, your face tightened, a blend of disbelief and frustration clouding your features. The weight of the question bore down on you, amplifying your discomfort and vulnerability in that moment.

You felt exposed, the spotlight glaringly bright, intensifying the scrutiny you felt as the only female driver on the grid.

Sensing your discomfort, a subtle shift occurred amongst the drivers on the panel. Eyes darted towards you, expressions reflecting concern and empathy.

Among them, Max Verstappen's gaze lingered a moment longer, his usually confident demeanor softened by genuine concern for his fellow driver.

The collective silence that followed the question seemed to stretch on, the atmosphere thick with tension. But within you, a resilient fire ignited. Drawing strength from the supportive glances of your peers and your own unwavering determination, you steadied yourself. You would not let this moment define you or shake your belief in your own capabilities.

"could we start with you again Lewis ?"

Lewis's expression tightened, clearly upset by the nature of the question.

"Honestly, I find it disappointing that in this day and age, we're still having these discussions. Women have proven time and time again that they can compete at the highest levels of motorsport. I've been a staunch supporter of women in racing, and I've seen firsthand the talent and determination they bring to the track."

"Look, in Formula 1, everyone's path to the grid is different. Yes, some of us come from racing families or have certain connections, but ultimately, talent and hard work are what count. I've faced skepticism throughout my career for various reasons, and I've always chosen to let my performance on the track speak for itself. As for y/n, she's shown promise and skill in her journey to F1. The sport is better when we have diverse talents, and I believe she deserves her place here"

"Thank you for the answer, could we move on to Vettel next ?"

Vettel's brows furrowed, eyes narrowing with a mix of disbelief and growing indignation. "It's disappointing, really, to hear these questions. Every driver on this grid has earned their seat through dedication, hard work, and skill. Formula 1 is a tough environment, and to suggest that anyone is here purely because of their name or gender undermines the effort we all put in. I've met y/n and seen her commitment firsthand. She belongs here as much as anyone else."

Then they moved on to Danny. His jovial demeanor momentarily shifted as he heard the interviewer's pointed question directed at you. Being someone who often exudes positivity and fairness, Daniel values meritocracy and respects the grind every driver goes through to reach Formula 1. Hearing a fellow driver being questioned on the basis of nepotism and gender struck a chord with him.

"Ah, the old nepotism and gender card. It's not a new question in F1, but it's one that misses the mark. Sure, having a famous last name might open some doors initially, but it won't keep them open if you can't deliver on track. As for being the only female driver, I think it's about time we focus on skills and capabilities rather than gender. I've had the chance to get to know y/n, and she's got talent. End of story."

Then they moved on to Max, who is known for his fierce competitiveness and straightforwardness. It was clear that he was infuriated by the audacious implication and the discomfort it caused you.

Seeing you visibly uncomfortable only intensified Max's emotions. He felt a surge of protective anger, recognizing the unfair scrutiny and challenges you faced as the only female driver on the grid. In that moment, the friendship among drivers was evident, as Max's concern for your well-being was palpable.

His eyes flashed with fury as he seized the opportunity to address the interviewer's audacious question. His voice dripped with venom as he unleashed his pent-up frustration.

"Firstly, the audacity to question anyone's place on this grid based on gender or family name is just absolute garbage. She's earned her spot on this grid through sheer talent and hard work, just like the rest of us. Anyone who suggests otherwise is either blind or just plain ignorant."

His words were sharp and cutting, each syllable laced with disdain for the backward mindset behind the question. Max's aggression was palpable as he continued to tear down the baseless accusations.

"In case you missed it, Formula 1 is about racing, talent, dedication, and hard work, not gender or who your parents are. It's disappointing to still be facing these backward stereotypes in this day and age. We should be focusing on racing and the incredible talent we have on this grid, not trying to create controversy where there isn't any . For the record, I've raced alongside her, and I've known her my entire life. Y/n is an extraordinary racer through and through, and she's proven herself time and time again."

He paused, taking a breath to temper his rising emotions before continuing,

"So, how about we focus on the actual sport instead of dredging up this garbage ?"

Max's aggressive defence reverberated through the room, leaving no doubt as to where he stood on the matter and silencing any further attempts to undermine your place in the sport.

As you listened to Max's vehement defense, a mixture of emotions washed over you. Initially, there was a sense of relief and gratitude. Max's and the other drivers' unwavering support and fierce defence of you felt like a shield against the unfair scrutiny you had faced. It was reassuring to know that your fellow drivers stood your her and were willing to call out the injustice.

Your eyes briefly met Max's intense gaze, conveying a silent thank you and mutual understanding of the gravity of the situation.

Then it was finally your turn to answer

With a poised demeanor, you addressed the room, your voice steady and confident.

"I'd like to extend my sincere appreciation to my fellow drivers for their support. It speaks volumes about the fellowship and respect we share as competitors."

Pausing momentarily, you continued with a touch of irony,

"Regarding the questions raised about nepotism and being the only female on the grid, I was under the impression that Formula 1 valued skill, determination, and performance above all else. My presence here is a testament to my commitment, capability, and qualities I believe are fundamental to every driver on this grid."

Maintaining your composure, you added, "While these questions may have been posed, my focus remains unwaveringly on racing. I am here to compete, to challenge, and to succeed, just like every other driver. I look forward to letting my performance on the track speak for itself. Besides, I don't see 19 men ahead of me, I see 19 challenges to be conquered."

With this response, you gracefully but firmly addressed the issue, highlighting your professionalism and determination to rise above the noise and excel in your chosen profession.

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pucksandpower · 6 months

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A Gentleman’s Guide to Courtship

Max Verstappen x reporter!Reader

Summary: Max decides to get relationship advice from a book written in 1815 and it goes about as well as you would expect. But sometimes the wrong formula still gets the right answer

“In our modern age, when so many standards of propriety have shifted, a gentleman may find himself at a loss when attempting to court a young lady. The rules of etiquette that governed such relationships in decades past offered a framework to guide conduct and ensure all was done properly.

This humble volume intends to provide today’s gentleman that same guidance, so that he may pay suit to the object of his affection in a manner befitting them both. Within these pages, the reader will find what constitutes proper introductions, suitable topics of conversation, appropriate gifts or tokens of regard, and protocols for exchanging correspondence.

While society evolves, there remain certain courtesies that bespeak good breeding. Master these, and you shall go far in winning the hand of any respectable young lady.”

- Excerpt from “A Gentleman’s Guide to Courtship” by Reginald Worthington, 1815

A gentleman must display impeccable manners, never using foul language and maintaining a calm and collected demeanor at all times.

“So Max, tell us how you’re feeling ahead of the British Grand Prix this weekend,” you ask, microphone in hand.

Max shifts in his seat, avoiding your gaze. “Uh, yeah, feeling good. The car has been quick so far this weekend in practice.”

You nod enthusiastically. As the newly appointed F1 reporter for Sky Sports, you’re eager to prove yourself in the paddock. And getting an exclusive interview with the reigning double world champion is a great start.

“You have not won at Silverstone before. Do you think you can do it for the first time on Sunday?”

“Absolutely. The team have been working hard and I think we have a good chance,” Max replies.

You glance down at your notes. “Now Max, let’s go back to last weekend in Austria. The incident with Lando on the first lap — can you walk us through what happened from your perspective?”

Max feels his face getting hot. The controversial collision is still a sore point after the race stewards penalized him. He takes a breath, pushing down his true feelings.

“Well, it was racing incident,” he says slowly. “Lando had a good start and was alongside going into turn one. It was tight between us and unfortunately we made contact.”

You raise an eyebrow. “But do you feel that you were more at fault? It seemed to be quite an aggressive move.”

Max clenches his fist under the table discreetly. Calm and collected, he reminds himself.

“Like I said, it was just racing. These things happen sometimes between us drivers.”

“So you don’t think it was an unsafe maneuver on your part?” You press. Your piercing gaze makes Max shift again.

Just stay polite, he thinks. But his frustration boils over.

“It was freaking racing, okay!” He snaps, his calm demeanor vanishing. “Shit happens! Lando didn’t leave me space and we collided. Don’t try to blame me!”

You lean back, eyes widening in surprise at his sudden outburst. Max’s heart drops, immediately regretting his loss of composure.

“Uh, sorry about that,” he mutters, not meeting your eyes. “I didn’t mean to curse.”

“No worries, I understand it’s a sensitive topic,” you say evenly. But inside, you’re taken aback. You’ve never seen Max Verstappen react like this.

Desperate to get the interview back on track, you move to the next question. “Let’s talk about your rivalry on the track. Do you feel the tension has somewhat decreased this season as you run ahead with the championship?”

Max nods, clinging to the redirect. “All twenty drivers on the grid are competitors at heart. For sure the rivalry grows each season. Not everyone is fighting for the title so there’s less at stake for some but that can change at any moment. There is always respect between us.”

His standard PR answer seems to bore you. Glancing at the clock, you start wrapping up the interview.

“Last question, Max. Any special plans for the British Grand Prix weekend?”

“Eh, not really,” Max mutters, still kicking himself for losing his temper earlier. So much for gentlemanly manners around ladies. You’ll surely think he’s a foul-mouthed jerk now.

“Okay, I think that’s all we have time for,” you say, standing up. “Thanks again for the interview, Max, I know you’re quite busy here.”

“Yep, no problem,” Max mumbles, avoiding eye contact.

You turn to leave, but stop. “And Max? Don’t worry too much about the clash with Lando. It happens to all drivers sometimes. See you around!” You flash him a smile before exiting.

Max sits stunned for a moment after you leave. Even after his swearing and temper, you hadn’t been upset with him.

A grin slowly spreads across his face. Maybe he hadn’t ruined his chances after all!

Walking back to the Red Bull motorhome, Max can’t stop thinking about you. The way you smiled at him, so warm and understanding. And how you smelled vaguely of lavender.

Max has been captivated since you arrived in the paddock but he has no idea how to approach you … or any woman for that matter.

His only experience is with fast cars, not beautiful reporters.

Pulling up to his driver room, Max is greeted by his physio, Bradley.

“How did it go mate? You look bothered,” Brad asks.

Max sighs. “That interview with Y/N was a disaster. I screwed it up!”

He recounts his slip-up angrily cursing about Lando to Brad, who tries to stifle a laugh.

“Really, that’s what you’re worried about? A little swearing? I’m sure she’s heard far worse around the paddock!”

“But the book said to never use foul language around ladies! To be a gentleman at all times! And I failed at the first test!” Max runs an agitated hand through his hair. “Now she’ll never consider me as a suitor.”

Brad gapes at him. “A suitor? Max, what century are you living in?” He glances down and notices the antique book peeking from Max’s backpack.

Grabbing it, Brad starts flipping through the pages incredulously.

“Wait, you’re actually trying to follow advice from this ancient thing to get a girl?”

Max tries to grab the book back, his cheeks reddening. “Give it back! Yes it’s old but shouldn’t dating still be proper and polite?”

“This stuff is wildly outdated. Just ask her out for drinks. Be yourself!” Brad gestures exasperatedly.

“I can’t just ask her out, are you crazy?” Max sputters. “What if she says no?”

Brad places a hand on his shoulder. “You’re the bloody world champion. And you’re not too hard on the eyes. She’d be mad to turn you down!”

Max cracks a reluctant smile, appreciating the confidence in him. Maybe Brad is right, Max considers. He just needs to relax and stop overthinking things.

“Tell you what, the team is throwing a big party after the race on Sunday. Why don’t you invite Y/N as your date?” Brad suggests.

Max’s stomach flutters nervously at the thought. “I guess I could try ...”

Brad claps him on the back. “That’s what I’m talking about! Now hand that daft old book over so I can throw it in the bin.”

“No! I mean … I’ll hold onto it,” Max says, snatching it back.

It may be outdated but it still has some wise words, he thinks. Even if he doesn’t follow everything word-for-word, a brush up on manners couldn’t hurt.

Max feels reenergized. One mishap wouldn’t ruin his chances with you.

This weekend he would focus on winning the British Grand Prix. And then he would ask you to be his date for the after-party.

Properly, like a gentleman.

What could go wrong?

A gentleman should compose handwritten letters with eloquence and embellished language to express his sentiments, as these missives often carry great weight.

Max sits at the desk in his driver room, pen poised over a pad of stationary borrowed from the hotel.

He takes a deep breath.

My Dearest Y/N …

He pauses. How exactly does he eloquently express his feelings here? Chewing the pen anxiously, he tries again.

My Dearest Y/N,

Since first you did arrive upon the Formula 1 scene, I have been captivated by your beauty and grace ...

Max groans, crumpling up the paper. This sounds ridiculous! But the book had stressed the importance of handwritten letters to woo a lady. And with his shyness around you in person, writing a letter seemed the best approach.

If only he could find the right words.

Staring at the blank sheet of paper, Max thinks back to the British Grand Prix last weekend. He had taken Brad’s advice and invited you to the post-race celebrations as his date.

To his delight, you had happily accepted.

The party had been going perfectly. You both laughed and chatted easily over drinks. Then the DJ started playing and Max got the courage to ask you to dance. With your hand in his, bodies swaying gently together, Max was sure this was his moment to finally tell you his feelings.

But when he tried, the words tangled up inside. His throat went dry and he could only stare mute into your eyes. The song ended and the magic of the moment faded. You slipped away back to your friends, leaving Max cursing his nervousness.

Which is why he’s now resorted to writing a letter. If only he can find the right poetic phrases, he would be able to express everything in his heart.

Chewing his lip, Max starts again.

My Dearest Y/N,

Ever since you did arrive in this paddock, I have admired you from afar. Your beauty and spirit doth light up the Formula 1 world. Being in your radiant presence doth make my heart soar ...

Max frowns. He sounds like Shakespeare on steroids. This is getting him nowhere. Crumpling up another attempt, he gets an idea. He needs advice from someone more eloquent. Pulling out his phone, he selects Daniel Ricciardo’s number.

“Maxie! To what do I owe the pleasure?” Daniel answers cheerily.

“I need your help. I’m trying to write a letter to Y/N telling her ...byou know, that I like her,” Max mumbles. “But I’m struggling with the words. You’re so smooth and charming — any advice?”

Daniel laughs loudly through the phone. “A love letter mate? That’s adorable!”

Max rolls his eyes. “Haha. Yes, it’s hilarious. Do you have any tips or not?”

“Hmm okay, don’t stress too much over the fancy wording. Keep it simple and heartfelt, you know? Just speak honestly about why you like her.”

Max nods. “Right, speak from the heart. I can do that.”

“Go get her champ! Let me know if you need any more romantic advice,” Daniel teases.

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Max hangs up with a smile.

Taking a fresh piece of paper, he starts writing.

Dear Y/N,

I wanted to properly tell you how I feel about you. From the moment I first saw you in the paddock, I thought you were the most beautiful and amazing woman.

Your smile makes me weak. Being near you gives me butterflies in my stomach.

Spending time together at the party was really special for me. I wish I had told you then how I felt. But I get so nervous around you that the words don’t come out right. So I thought writing this might be easier.

I know we haven’t known each other long. But I would love the chance to get to know you more. Maybe we could have dinner sometime, if you feel the same way?

Let me know.

Yours,

Max

Max reads over the short letter and nods, satisfied. It’s simple and honest, just saying the thoughts he can never seem to speak out loud around you.

So, after carefully folding the stationary, Max slips out of the Red Bull motorhome in search of you.

Max finds you chatting with some other journalists near the media center. He hangs back shyly, waiting for you to be free.

You glance up and catch his eye, giving a smile and wave. Taking a deep breath, Max approaches.

“Hi, Y/N. Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Of course!” You say, turning to him. The other reporters conveniently scatter, leaving the two of you alone.

“So uh, I wrote you this letter.” Max mutters, pulling the folded paper from his pocket. His palms are sweating and he rubs his neck nervously. “It’s just some thoughts I wanted to share with you.”

“Aww Max, you didn’t have to write me anything!” You beam at him sweetly.

Max shoves the letter toward you, willing himself to just give it over before he loses confidence. But as you reach out for it, anxiety grips him.

What if you reject him after reading it? Or worse, what if you show the soppy love letter to your coworkersto laugh about?

His pulse pounding, Max swiftly yanks the letter back. Before he can think twice, he starts hastily ripping it up into tiny shreds.

“Max!” You cry out in surprise. “What are you doing?”

“I, uh, just realized how weird it was to write you something so personal,” Max stammers, face flaming red.

He lets the shreds of paper fall from his fingers.

“Oh.” Your face falls in disappointment. “That’s too bad, I’m sure it was very thoughtful ...”

An awkward silence follows. Max curses internally, hating himself. Why had he chickened out at the last second? He scrambles for something to say.

“Yeah, it was too forward of me,” he rambles nervously. “I wouldn’t want people to get the wrong idea about us. Not that there is an us! I mean, we’re colleagues.”

You frown slightly in confusion. “Colleagues? I thought we were becoming friends ...”

“Right, yes friends!” Max amends quickly. “Friends is good. Don’t want rumors or gossip spreading. Not that what I wrote was gossip worthy! It was boring really, nothing important.”

He forces out a laugh, cringing at his bumbling excuse. You just stare at him in bewilderment.

“O-kay then ... well, I need to get back to work. See you around, Max.” You give him a strange look before turning away slowly.

Max watches you walk off, letting out a long groan once you’re out of earshot.

He slaps a hand to his forehead. Could that have gone any worse? He’d absolutely butchered it and now you must think he’s a complete weirdo.

Dejected, Max trudges back to the motorhome. He replays the scene in his head, berating himself over and over. If only he had the guts to just give you that letter!

Instead he had to go and make a complete fool of himself. There’s no way you have any interest in him now after witnessing that trainwreck.

Sulking back to his driver’s room, Max finds his teammate in the hallways.

“What’s up with you? You look like you just lost the championship,” Checo remarks.

Max just opens his door and flops down onto the sofa with a dramatic sigh. “I really screwed things up with Y/N ...”

He recounts the whole awkward encounter to Checo, who tries and fails to hold back laughter.

“It’s not funny!” Max snaps, tossing a scrunched up sock at him.

“Sorry, hermano,” Checo says, composing himself. “But really, I doubt it was that bad. Just explain to Y/N what happened and try again.”

“No way. It’s hopeless now,” Max moans. “I can’t face her after that.” He grabs one of the shredded letter pieces off the table, smoothing it out to reveal a fragment of his confession.

Crumpling it back up, Max tosses it aside bitterly. He definitely lost his chance thanks to his own nerves and stupidity.

Max does everything he can to avoid you over the next days, too embarrassed to face you after the letter fiasco. For your own part, you seem equally uncertain how to act around him now.

At races you keep interactions strictly professional. The ease and friendship that was developing between you is gone.

Max hates that he ruined everything before it could even really begin.

It’s not until the Dutch Grand Prix weeks later that you finally confront him.

“We should talk,” you say, catching Max alone after practice one day. “Why have you been avoiding me since Silverstone?”

Max shuffles his feet, staring at the ground. “I just made things weird with that letter. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

You step closer, tilting his chin up gently so he meets your eyes.

“I thought the idea behind it was really sweet. I was so disappointed when you just ripped it up. I care about you, so don’t push me away, okay?”

Heart pounding, Max manages a sheepish nod.

You lean in slowly and kiss his cheek, pretending not to notice how his skin turns rosy.

“I’m still waiting to see what you wrote for me one day,” you whisper with a smile before walking off, leaving Max stunned.

Touching his cheek, a grin spreads across Max’s face. Maybe he hadn’t ruined everything after all.

The book might know a thing or two.

A gentleman should present small tokens of affection: Offering a lady flowers, a lock of hair, or a sentimental keepsake is a cherished practice.

Max paces the floor of his Monaco apartment, phone in hand as he scrolls through a website about flower meanings and symbolism.

Max clicks on the different options, overwhelmed. Who knew flowers were so complicated? Red roses mean passion but are too strong for courting. Yellow roses signify friendship. White lilies convey purity and innocence.

Max frowns. None of these seem quite right.

Finally he comes across the perfect choice — peonies. According to the guide, pink peonies signal romance, prosperity and good fortune.

Isn’t that romantic? This will be the ideal flower to to show how much he cares for you.

Satisfied with his floral choice, Max orders an impressive bouquet of pink peonies to be delivered to you before the upcoming race.

As soon as you receive them, he anxiously waits for your reaction.

To his disappointment, no thank you comes. In fact, you don’t acknowledge the flowers at all.

When Max finally spots you in the paddock on Thursday, his smile fades at your red-rimmed eyes and congested voice.

“Are you okay? You don’t look well,” Max frowns.

You give a stuffy laugh. “Thanks, just what every girl wants to hear.” Dabbing at your runny nose with a tissue, you sigh. “Sorry, I’m a mess today. Turns out I’m quite allergic to peonies. Those lovely flowers you sent put me out of commission the past two days.”

Max’s eyes widen in alarm. “Wait, you’re allergic to peonies? I had no idea, I’m so sorry!”

He mentally kicks himself. Some romantic gesture this was, practically making you ill. “I was just trying to do something nice ...” he says guiltily.

But you wave off his concern with a smile, touched that he went to such effort. “It’s really sweet of you, truly. They were beautiful. My immune system just seems to have other plans.”

Max shoves his hands in his pockets. “Let me make it up to you. What if I cook you dinner next week instead of flowers?”

Your cheeks flush slightly. “I would really like that.”

***

The following Tuesday, Max puts his meager cooking skills to use whipping up pasta. Pretty soon he has an aromatic tomato sauce simmering away while he slices bread for garlic toast.

When you arrive, bottle of wine in hand, Max greets you wearing a “World’s Okayest Chef” apron. Laughter and light banter flow easily between you two all evening. The domesticity of sharing a meal together feels wonderfully natural. Lingering glances and touches over the table make it clear this is now a proper date.

After dessert, you help Max tidy up the kitchen. Playfully flicking soap suds at each other soon turns into a full-on bubble fight. Laughing and stumbling into each other, Max ends up gently pinning you against the counter.

Your giggles trail off, smiles fading into something warmer. Slowly Max leans in, lips meeting yours in a soft kiss.

When you eventually pull apart, he rests his forehead against yours contentedly. No flowers or grand gestures needed.

Just this — being together.

***

Before free practice of the following race, Max seeks you out, fidgeting nervously with the small pair of scissors in his hands.

“I … I wanted to give you something special. A token of my affection for you.”

Before you can react, Max takes a lock of his light brown hair and starts snipping right there in front of you. Your eyes widen in surprise as the severed strands fall into his palm.

“It’s uh, a lock of my hair. For you to keep,” he explains, holding it out to you sheepishly.

You have to stifle a laugh at how earnest he looks. “Wow Max, that’s really thoughtful but you didn’t have to cut your hair for me!”

Max’s cheeks flush pink. “No, I want you to have it! To show, you know, that I’m devoted to you and all that ...” His voice trails off at your amused expression.

Maybe this romantic gesture is a bit stranger than he realized. But you take the lock of hair from him with a gracious smile.

“Well, I’ll always treasure a piece of you.”

His grin brightens. Then he remembers the other part of his gift. “Oh wait, there’s more!”

He pulls a small oval locket from his pocket and clicks it open to reveal an empty compartment.

“I thought you could keep the hair in this locket, close to your heart,” he explains earnestly. “That way you will always have a part of me with you.”

Your eyes soften, touched by the sentiment if not the unconventional nature of his gift. But seeing how much thought Max put into it makes you melt and you give him a quick kiss.

“It’s perfect, thank you. Here, would you put the hair inside for me?”

Carefully, Max places the strands into the golden locket and fastens it around your neck, face lit up.

“So you really like it then?”

You nod, gently clasping the locket in your hand. “I’ll cherish it always.”

A gentleman should bring a tasteful gift, such as a book of poetry or a hand-painted fan, as a gesture of appreciation for her hospitality when visiting a lady’s home.

Max double checks the address on his phone as he pulls up outside your London flat. He’s visiting for the first time today and wants to make a good impression.

Max looks down at your gift on the passenger seat — a squirming bengal kitten, licking up the treat Max had brought to calm her for the car ride.

You had completely fallen for his two rambunctious bengal cats when you met them at his apartment.

“They are just the cutest! I’ve always wanted a bengal,” you had cooed as Jimmy curled up contentedly in your lap while Sassy climbed across your shoulders.

So when Max saw that the ethical breeder he bought his cats from had this spirited little kitten available, he knew she would be the perfect gift for your first proper date at your home.

A living reminder of the night your relationship began.

Scooping up the wriggling furball, Max walks up and rings your buzzer.

You greet him at the door with a smile and quick kiss, then abruptly stop short at the sight of the kitten in his arms.

“Max, what is that?”

“It’s a bengal kitten!” He announces proudly, holding her up like he is reenacting The Lion King. “I got her for you, as a gift.”

He holds the mewling kitten out to you eagerly. You stare back, mouth agape.

“You got me a kitten? Max, that’s insane!” You exclaim. “Bengals cost thousands of euros, you can’t just show up with one. Oh my god, please tell me you didn’t seriously buy me a €3000 cat.”

Max’s smile falters, realizing suddenly how over-the-top the gift seems.

“I mean, I just wanted to do something really special for you,” he mumbles, face reddening.

The kitten lets out a pitiful meow. You bite your lip, conflicted. She really is adorable. And you know Max meant well with his lavish gesture. Sighing, you open your door wider.

“Okay, I guess I can’t turn away this cutie now. Come on in.”

Max’s face lights up in relief. “You’ll keep her then? That’s amazing!”

He carefully sets the energetic furball down and she immediately starts exploring. You have to laugh as she pounces and tumbles over her paws.

“She’s going to destroy all my stuff,” you stare resignedly as she claws her way up your upholstered couch, claws snagging the fabric.

Max waves off your concern. “Don’t worry, I’ll pay for anything she ruins. And I’ll make sure she can come to races too, so you’re never apart.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You think they’re going to let a kitten into the paddock?”

“Lewis brings Roscoe so they have to allow cats too or it’s not fair! Don’t worry, I will make it happen,” Max declares confidently.

Despite yourself, you smile at his determination. Gazing down at the kitten now nibbling your toe, your reservations melt away.

She really has stolen your heart already.

“Well, I guess we’re in this together now, huh little one?” You murmur. “Thank you. I think she’s the perfect gift.”

His whole face lights up at those words. Impulsively, you stand on tiptoe to kiss him.

“I think I’ll name her Emiliana,” you suggest softly. “Since she’s my special gift from Max Emilian Verstappen.”

Max grins. “I love that idea.”

Maybe Max is out of touch with normal gift-giving. But looking into his smiling eyes, you know everything he does comes from a place of love. And you wouldn’t change his thoughtfulness for anything.

Even if it means welcoming a hyperactive €3000 kitten into your life.

A gentleman should exercise prudence and restraint in the event that his family honor is insulted. Engaging in a duel must be the last resort, pursued only when all other means of resolving the matter have been exhausted.

“Who’s ready for her first race?” You coo to Emiliana, clipping a leash on to her harness. The energetic bengal kitten twirls in excited circles hearing the jingle of her collar.

Max chuckles, scooping Emiliana up. “I know you’ll love exploring the garage!” Kissing her furry head, he nestles her safely in his jacket pocket for the walk over.

Arriving at the bustling paddock, Max gently puts Emiliana down to allow her to explore, the kitten’s wide eyes reflect the flash of cameras and bright team colors swirling around. With Max’s hand securely in yours, you both smile proudly showing her off to the other drivers and staff.

Most are delighted, stopping to fawn over the curious feline. But as you pass by the Alpine motorhome, she ends up scampering across the asphalt and almost tripping Esteban Ocon in the process.

“Ugh, control your overgrown rat!” He grumbles loudly.

Max freezes, blood boiling at the insult toward Emiliana. Clenching his fists, he spins to confront Esteban. But you grab his arm firmly.

“Max, stop. He’s not worth it,” you murmur. After a tense moment, Max reluctantly relaxes his stance, not wanting to cause a scene.

You steer him away, stroking Emiliana comfortingly. “Don’t listen to the mean man, sweetie. You are perfect.”

But Max continues seething silently.

The remainder of the weekend passes uneventfully and you assume Max has let go of the unpleasant encounter. But once the race starts, you grow anxious seeing the two drivers battling unusually close together.

Sure enough, despite leading comfortably, Max slows his car to allow Esteban to catch up. Your heart drops as Max then swerves aggressively into Esteban’s side, sending him spinning off in a blaze of shredded carbon fiber. Meanwhile, Max continues on unfazed to take the chequered flag.

You’re fuming when Max finally makes his way back to the garage. Seeing your crossed arms and fiery glare, his triumphant smile fades.

“I know what you’re going to say ...” he starts guiltily.

“That you promised not to seek revenge and then deliberately crashed Esteban?” You snap.

Max winces. “Seeing him just brought back all that anger ...”

“So you decided to punt him at 200 mph?” You throw your hands up in exasperation.

“I was not thinking clearly,” Max scuffs his shoe. “My temper took over again.”

Your anger melts slightly seeing Max’s remorse. With a sigh, you pull him into a tight hug. “Do you have any idea how badly you both could’ve been hurt by pulling a stunt like that?”

Max looks down, properly chastised. “You’re right, it was really dangerous what I did.”

“Not to mention nearly ruining your own race!”

“I didn’t care about losing position,” Max admits. “I have already secured the championship. Defending Emiliana’s honor was more important in the moment.”

You shake your head. “Our kitten’s honor is not worth you risking your life! Please think these things through before acting so rashly.”

“You’re right, I wasn’t thinking straight,” Max says sincerely. “I promise to be more responsible going forward. No more putting myself or anyone else in danger over petty spats.”

He hugs you close again. “Thank you for keeping me rational and safe.”

You smile up at him with a soft laugh, letting some of your tension melt away. "Someone has to.”

A gentleman should keep a strict code of chivalry: Offer your seat to a lady, hold doors, and protect her from harm, both physical and emotional.

The Singapore Grand Prix is always a grueling one thanks to the heat and humidity. But this weekend, Mother Nature seems intent on making it even tougher.

Dark ominous clouds have been building all afternoon before finally bursting open right as final practice ends. Fat raindrops pelt down rapidly, sending the paddock scrambling for cover.

Safely under the shelter of the Red Bull garage, Max keeps an eye out for you. He knows you’re stuck in the media pen finishing interviews along with the other reporters.

Sure enough, he spots your ponytail across the pen, soaked through as you attempt to shield your equipment from the downpour.

Without thinking, Max hands off his mic and races out into the rain toward you. Holding his team jacket over your head, he guides you under the shelter of a nearby awning.

“Oh my gosh, Max! You’re soaked!” You exclaim, taking in his drenched state.

But Max just shrugs it off. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry. Couldn’t let you get caught out there though.”

He rubs your arms briskly, trying to warm you up. Seeing you shivering in your thin blouse — now transparent from the rain — Max feels a pang of protectiveness.

“Here, let me get you something dry ...” He sprints off, returning minutes later with a Red Bull hoodie and umbrella from his driver’s room.

Bundling you up in the warm dry clothes, Max finally relaxes. “Sorry I couldn’t get here sooner. But I wasn’t about to leave you stranded in that!”

You smile up at him, sincerely touched. “My hero! Thank you, superstar.”

Leaning up on your tiptoes, you give him a soft kiss. Max thinks that heart swells three sizes, thrilled that he was able to protect you.

As the weekend goes on, Max keeps finding little ways to display chivalry. Opening doors, giving you his seat, shielding you with umbrellas whenever the rain returns.

You assure him that the fussing is unnecessary but Max insists. He wants you to feel cared for and safe at all times.

Unfortunately, not everyone in the paddock shares that sentiment.

You’re rushing to grab some coffee before the race when you overhear a muttered conversation by a group of reporters that are huddled together.

“There she is — Verstappen’s girl ...”

“Ugh, it’s so obvious she only got the job with Sky Sports because they’re dating.”

“Sleeping her way to the top if you ask me. No way she’d be here otherwise ...”

Their cruel laughter cuts through you sharply. Blinking back sudden tears, you hurry away before they can notice you.

Of course you’ve dealt with doubters questioning your skill and merits before. It’s an occupational hazard as a woman in motorsport.

But having your relationship with Max twisted in such a way stings deeply.

Arriving at the grid, you paste on a smile and try not to let the nasty remarks ruin your day. You have always had to work twice as hard to prove yourself and you were not going to give up now.

But Max notices that something is off immediately. And, when you keep avoid his concerned gaze, he gently presses for answers.

“What’s wrong, liefde? And don’t say nothing,” he adds, seeing you open your mouth to brush it off.

You sigh, reluctantly telling him about the reporters’ hurtful comments. Instantly Max’s jaw tightens, anger flashing in his eyes.

“Who said that? Point them out to me.”

You hesitate, not wanting to cause a scene. But Max takes your hand firmly.

“I won’t let them get away with questioning your integrity like that. It’s unacceptable.”

So you subtly point out the gossiping reporters huddled nearby. Max’s gaze darkens. Turning on his heel, he marches straight for the media center.

By the time you catch up, he’s already deep in a terse conversation with Formula 1’s head of communications.

You watch in astonishment as the offenders’ media access is promptly revoked despite their loud protests. But Max stands firm, insisting this is non-negotiable if he is expected to keep participating in his media duties.

When he finally returns to you, his anger has melted away into concern. “I’m so sorry you had to hear their garbage. Don’t ever listen to it, okay? You are brilliant at what you do.”

Your eyes well up again but this time from gratitude. Even during the pre-race chaos, Max made defending you his top priority.

“Thank you,” you whisper, hugging him tightly. “My knight in shining racing gear.”

Max just holds you close, wishing he could shield you from all harm. Because your happiness and comfort are paramount to him. And Max will gladly take on any dragon — or unscrupulous reporter — that dares to threaten that.

With Max by your side, ready to come to your aid in rain or shine, you know everything will be okay.

A gentleman should always be well-dressed in the latest fashions and ensure that his cravat is tied to perfection.

Max frowns down at the open suitcase on his bed, clothes strewn everywhere. He’s digging through the wardrobe he packed trying to find something stylish to wear for the United States Grand Prix.

The problem is, Max has no idea what the latest fashions even are. Jeans and a team-branded shirt are his staples both on and off the track. But he needs to make more effort for you.

Sifting through his options unsuccessfully, Max sighs. There’s nothing here that screams high fashion. He would have to do the unthinkable and ask advice from someone … like Lewis Hamilton.

Max cringes at the thought of approaching his rival for fashion help. But Lewis is always complemented for his outfits so he is clearly an expert on the subject.

Swallowing his pride, Max fires off a text before he can overthink it.

To his surprise, Lewis responds enthusiastically with suggestions and styling tips. Their competitive rivalry is momentarily forgotten as the veteran driver dedicates all day to helping Max looking sharp.

Arriving at the paddock on Thursday morning, Max scrutinizes his reflection anxiously while scanning his pass. He’s wearing slim-fitting distressed jeans with a silky patterned shirt that Lewis instructed was to be left half-unbuttoned.

Definitely way flashier than his normal attire but Lewis assured him it was very on-trend. So Max takes a deep breath and heads out to find you.

Your eyes widen in surprise taking in his dramatic style overhaul. “Whoa, look at you!”

Max preens a bit, relieved that you don’t seem to be put off by his bold fashion choice.

“I figured it was time to elevate my fashion game,” he spins cheekily to show off the full look.

You have to stifle a laugh at seeing straight-laced Max suddenly dressing like a runway model after fans used to be shocked to see him in anything other than a white shirt.

It’s certainly different but cute that he’s putting in so much effort for your relationship.

As the weekend continues, so does Max’s parade of high fashion outfits. He turns up looking like he stepped off a catwalk in trendy printed shirts, embroidered jackets, and even sequined trousers.

By Sunday, the dramatic style transformation has paddock tongues wagging. Max appears entirely oblivious to the gossip though, just happy that his attempts to impress you seem to be working.

But watching him awkwardly fidget with the billowing oversized silk sleeves of today’s shirt as he tries to focus on preparing for the race, you realize that this isn’t your Max. Not really.

Catching his eye, you gesture for him to join you out of earshot and away from the view of cameras. Gently taking his hands, you meet his gaze.

“Be honest with me, what’s going on with the makeover? This isn’t like you at all.”

He ducks his head with a sheepish smile. “I just wanted to dress nicely for you this weekend. Like a proper gentleman.”

You lift his chin until he’s looking at you again. “You don’t have to try and be someone else for me. I like you for you — jeans, team kit, and all.”

Max’s shoulders relax in relief. “Yeah?”

“Of course! Please don’t feel like you ever have to change.” You lean up to kiss him softly. “Now let’s get you into some racing gear, champ.”

A gentleman should know that prolonged eye contact is a powerful tool for conveying one’s intentions.

“So Max, I have to ask about the incident with Carlos last race. Do you think your aggression was over the line?”

You fixes Max with an inquisitive gaze, microphone poised as you wait for his response. But instead of answering, he just stares back intensely without blinking.

After a long awkward pause, you shift in your seat. “Uh, Max? Did you hear my question?”

“Hmm? Oh right, yeah. It was just racing, these things happen,” he says vaguely, eyes never leaving yours.

You move on to the next question, puzzled by his distracted behavior. Throughout the interview, Max continues gazing at you unwaveringly.

It’s a bit unsettling to have him stare so fixedly without looking away.

Finally you wrap up the stilted conversation, feeling relieved to escape his laser focus. What was up with that?

Over the weekend, you catch Max staring silently at you on numerous occasions — in hospitality, on the grid, across the garage. Without blinking or looking away, he’ll fix you with that powerful gaze until you flush and look away first.

By Sunday you’ve gotten used to the drawn out m moments of extended eye contact.

But during the post-race press conference, Max cranks it up a notch. As you ask Charles a question about the race, you feel Max’s eyes boring into the side of your face. Glancing over, you nearly fumble your recorder.

He’s just ... staring. Blatantly. Right at you as you’re trying to have a professional conversation.

The other drivers keep sneaking amused looks between you two and trying to hide their snickers.

You finally wrap up hurriedly, flustered by Max’s unrelenting eye contact. As the rest of the press file out, you hang back.

“So the whole staring thing ... we’re really doing that huh?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

Max has the grace to look sheepish. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to throw you off! I’ve just been trying to connect with you even more.”

You have to stifle a laugh imagining him sternly holding his own gaze in a mirror for practice. “I could tell! But maybe dial it down a little bit during interviews?”

Rubbing his neck, Max chuckles. “Yeah good call.”

He’s quiet for a moment before meeting your eyes again, this time softer. “I do like the way it makes me focus just on you though. Like the rest of the world fades away.”

“Yeah,” you duck your head, “I like that part too.”

Max’s eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles. Reaching out, he gently tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

When Max leans in, eyes fluttering closed, you let yourself get lost in the moment. The outside world disappears and all that’s left is his lips on yours, saying more than words ever could.

A gentleman should never speak of his own accomplishments or wealth in a boastful manner, instead let your actions and character speak for themselves.

“Liefde, have you seen my phone charger?” Max calls from the living room of his apartment. “Nevermind, found it!”

He grabs the charger off of the coffee table, narrowly avoiding knocking over the World Drivers’ Championship trophy displayed prominently in the center.

You stifle an amused smile as you enter. Ever since you jokingly teased Max about being humble, he has made his accomplishments strangely hard to ignore.

Like the fact that his trophy room door now mysteriously stays wide open whenever you’re over. Or how he keeps offering for you to take Air Max whenever you need to travel instead of flying commercial. It’s his unique way of bragging without actually saying a word.

Joining him on the sofa, you have to shoo away one of the cats that is trying to swat the trophy off the table. Max just grins.

“Sassy really loves that thing! Although I guess I can’t blame her, it is very shiny.”

You laugh, curling into his side. “It certainly seems to belong front and center lately. Along with your three championship-winning helmets on the table in the foyer.”

Max attempts an innocent look that doesn’t quite stick. “What? They’re nice decorative pieces!”

“Mmhmm,” you hum skeptically. Glancing around, you note magazine covers bearing his face displayed on the walls along with a framed race-worn suit hanging randomly next to the kitchen.

Meeting his eyes, you give him a knowing look. Max holds your gaze for a moment before cracking.

“Okay fine, I may have highlighted some ... accomplishments since your little humble comment,” he admits with a sheepish grin.

You have to laugh. “Max, you know I was just teasing you! I would never want you to downplay your achievements.”

Twisting to face him, you take his hands in yours. “You’ve worked so hard for everything you have. Please don’t feel like you can’t be proud about it.”

Max’s expression softens. “I know and I am really proud of my racing success.” Glancing around the trophy-filled apartment, he chuckles. “Maybe a bit too loudly recently.”

You lean in to kiss him tenderly. “I love you and I’m so proud of you. But it’s this,” you tap his chest on top of his heart, “This is what made me fall for you, not the jet or the trophies.”

“Yeah?” Max asks, eyes crinkling happily.

You snuggle into his shoulder. “Of course. You’ll always just be my Max.”

But then the gifts start arriving. An Hermes Birkin bag here … some Van Cleef jewelry there. Presented nonchalantly but you know that their extravagance is no accident.

Finally, you have to say something when a couture Chanel gown appears in your hotel room one day.

“What’s going on with all these gifts all of a sudden?” You ask gently.

“Nothing! I just want to treat my amazing girlfriend the way she deserves to be treated.”

You raise an eyebrow and look … and look … and look … until Max cracks. “Okay fine, I may have been trying to show off a bit,” he admits. “But it’s hard not to when I want to give you the world!”

Your expression softens. Taking his hands, you wait until he meets your eyes.

“You could give me plastic rings and clothing from the thrift store and I would be just as happy. Your love means everything to me, not material things.”

“Really?”

You nod and climb into his lap to connect your lips in a slow kiss. Pulling back, you add teasingly, “But I am keeping the dress.”

He laughs, all tension vanishing. “Of course, it will look incredible on you. Like everything does.”

A gentleman should demonstrate a willingness to adapt to a lady’s interests and preferences, cultivating shared hobbies and passions.

“Here we are!” You announce, gesturing at the entrance of the padel club. “I know you’ll love this. It combines the best parts of tennis, squash, and racquetball.”

Taking Max’s hand, you lead him inside eagerly. You’ve been trying to get him to try padel, your favorite hobby, for ages. Finally convincing him to play while visiting him in Monaco, you do a quick rundown of the rules in the locker room.

“So basically we score just like in tennis but the walls and mesh are also in play. You can use them to bounce shots off of strategically,” you explain, miming hitting the ball off the glass wall.

Max nods along, game face on. He’s determined to share your passion for this sport.

“Got it. Use the walls, beat the opponents, win the match,” he summarizes confidently.

You laugh. “Pretty much! Now let’s go kick some butt out there.”

Gripping your paddles, you head onto the slick court. Max gravitates right to the mesh wall, intrigued by the unique setup.

You have to hide your grin — he’s like a kid exploring and testing shots out eagerly. His competitive nature means that he is completely engrossed within minutes.

And Max certainly has a knack for padel. His fast reflexes and coordination transfer over as he adapts his technique. Soon you’re both moving seamlessly around each other, dominating the points against a random couple Max had convinced to play against the two of you.

Hours later, sweaty but exhilarated, Max slings an arm around you grinning.

“That was epic! This is such an awesome game, I can’t wait to play more.” His excitement makes your heart swell. Nothing better than sharing your interests with someone special.

Over the next weeks, you find any excuse to play padel together. On lazy mornings, Max coaxes you out of bed. During race weeks, you even manage to squeeze in a few matches after media day.

Soon Max transforms into a padel fanatic, always scouting new courts and competition. His dedication to mastering every shot warms your heart. And the silly trash talk and celebrations make every match so much fun.

It was no surprise when Max decided to organize a players tournament between races. Getting the other drivers involved had your makeshift paddock league battling it out.

“Here for the padel party!” Daniel crows, showing up in head-to-toe tennis gear.

Charles, Carlos, Lando, and Pierre are there too, warming up their swings. You help Max demonstrate the rules, the other guys teasing him good-naturedly about his new obsession.

Once play begins though, the intensity heats up quickly. Max’s laser focus kicks in as he charges around you protectively, looking to crush anyone who dares hit near you. Luckily you hold your own plenty well too against the drivers.

When the final point is called in your favor, Max tackles you in an exuberant hug, the guys applauding around you. Grinning and flushed with exertion, you all head inside to refuel and celebrate a fun day of sport and competition.

One padel date turned into a shared passion that bonded you both with the other drivers too. And seeing your smile reflecting Max’s own euphoric one, you know this is only the start of many joyful tournaments and casual games together.

Maybe Max went a bit over-the-top in his newfound padel fever. But his willingness to dive headfirst into your interests fills you with more love than you ever thought possible.

Having someone care enough to enter your world so fully and share the things that light you up — that’s the most meaningful gesture of all.

A gentleman should learn to play a musical instrument or be a connoisseur of music, as serenading a lady can be a charming expression of affection.

Max turns the acoustic guitar over in his hands, plucking experimentally at the strings.

With your birthday coming up, serenading you seems like the perfect romantic gesture. Now he just has to actually learn how to play this thing. It seems simple enough — how hard can the guitar really be?

Max starts pressing on the strings randomly, the resulting discordant notes making him wince.

Okay, this might take some work.

Pulling up a beginner tutorial on his phone, he starts practicing the basic chords. But his fingers fumble clumsily, refusing to contort into the proper shapes. The more he tries, the worse the mangled sounds get.

Frustrated after the thirty minute lesson yields little improvement, Max sighs. “How am I supposed to woo my girlfriend with music if I can’t even play a damn C chord?”

Time for a professional to step in. Max books lessons with a private guitar instructor, determined to nail this down in time for your birthday surprise.

At the first lesson, the instructor eyes Max’s hands critically. “Right, let’s start by getting your fingers conditioned ...”

He takes Max through various stretching and dexterity exercises to limber up. Max nods along dutifully until the instructor pulls out a contraption with rubber bands and metal prongs.

“What the hell is that thing?” Max asks warily.

“A finger strengthener — we need to work on your independence and stamina,” he explains matter-of-factly, fitting the device over Max’s hand.

Max grimaces as the rubber bands strain against his fingers. The instructor just nods approvingly. “Perfect, twenty minutes per day with that.”

By the end of the torturous lesson, the only progress Max has made is identifying the parts of the guitar. He’s nowhere close to actually playing.

Max leaves discouraged but even more motivated to conquer the instrument somehow before your birthday. He continues meeting with the instructor multiple times a week, practicing rigorously outside of lessons too.

You notice his new habit of constantly stretching his fingers but Max plays it off casually not wanting to spoil the surprise.

The week before your birthday, Max has made marginal improvements but is still far from properly playing full songs. Desperate, he invites the instructor over for one final intensive lesson.

After two grueling hours of relentless drills, the instructor throws his hands up. “I’ve never had a student struggle this much with guitar basics. Maybe we should consider something easier, like the triangle or a recorder ...”

“No!” Max interrupts forcefully. “The guitar is a classic romantic instrument. I just need more practice before her party tomorrow.”

The instructor sighs. “If you say so. Just keep working on your fretting transitions and we’ll hope for the best.”

After he leaves, Max stays up late into the night strumming determinedly. By your birthday, his fingers are sore and calloused within an inch of their lives. But he can semi-confidently stumble through a love song and that’s enough for tonight.

When the moment arrives, he takes a deep breath and begins gently playing the intro to “Thinking Out Loud,” ready to serenade you. Max makes it halfway through before the chords descend into choppy noise.

You still applaud enthusiastically after, smiling ear to ear. “That was amazing, my love! Thank you so much.”

Max ducks his head bashfully. “It still needs some work. But I’m glad you liked it.”

Laughing, you take his tortured hands and kiss each fingertip. “I loved it because it came from you. That’s all that matters to me.”

Warmth blooms in Max’s chest. No matter how imperfect, you appreciated his efforts because of how much heart he put into it just for you.

In the end, no amount of lessons could transform Max into a virtuoso overnight. But he did become accomplished in one universal language — love.

And at the end of the day, that means everything.

A gentleman should recognize and appreciate a lady’s accomplishments, whether in the arts, charity work, or society.

“So Max, what are your thoughts on taking pole position here in Brazil?” The reporter asks.

Max grins into the mic. “Yeah, feels great to put it on pole here. The team has done an amazing job dialing in the car.”

He pauses and then adds, “Of course my girlfriend Y/N also put in a stellar qualifying effort yesterday covering the action for Sky Sports. Her commentary is always so eloquent and insightful.”

The reporter smiles amused as Max continues raving about your on-air skills for several minutes before remembering to refocus him on the results of the actual qualifying seasion.

This has become a familiar trend lately in Max’s interviews. No matter the question, he manages to redirect the conversation to highlight your various talents.

“... our pace was really strong today, I think we will be able to keep the top step tomorrow. Oh, speaking of strong pace, Y/N just ran a personal best 5k time last week during training ...”

In team debriefs, the same thing happens. Engineer queries about race strategy are derailed into praise about your presenting skills. PR reps trying to discuss Max’s social media posts somehow end up hearing about your recent venture into pottery making instead.

Even in casual conversations, you come up constantly.

“Morning, Max! How are you today?” His trainer asks while spotting a weight lifting session.

“Doing great! Y/N is also doing great, she’s learning Dutch and picking it up so quickly. Have I mentioned how talented she is with languages?”

By now the whole paddock is highly familiar with your many accomplishments, since Max seizes every possible opportunity to spotlight them.

You find it rather endearing, if a bit silly at times. Like when Max commandeered an entire interview just to detail the charities that you volunteer with.

“You know I’m capable of mentioning my own accomplishments if they come up naturally, right?” You tease him later.

Max looks sheepish. “I know, I just like bragging about you! I’m really proud of everything you do.”

You soften, giving him a quick kiss. “That’s really sweet. But maybe tone down the constant spotlight a little?” You suggest gently.

“Noted,” Max chuckles.

He makes an effort after that to highlight your achievements only when truly relevant. Because while he could praise you all day, Max also respects your wishes.

And he realizes you don’t need him to validate your worth — your talents speak for themselves. But he still can’t resist sharing little proud snippets whenever your accomplishments come up organically.

Over time you appreciate Max’s admiration and support more and more. Having someone so genuinely invested in all aspects of your life is incredibly touching.

Maybe he goes a bit overboard in his praising sometimes. But knowing that Max is always your biggest cheerleader, when it comes to racing coverage or otherwise, means everything.

A gentleman should seek the permission of the lady’s father or guardian before proposing, demonstrating respect for her family and social conventions. Once granted, he should choose an intimate setting for the proposal, away from the public eye. He must then express his intentions with sincerity, dropping to one knee and presenting a ring as a symbol of his commitment.

Max takes a deep breath, fidgeting with the small velvet box in his pocket. Today’s the day — he’s going to ask your father for permission to marry you.

You’ve reassured Max time and time again that your dad loves him but that does nothing to settle his nerves as he knocks on the front door of your childhood home.

When your father welcomes Max inside warmly, he relaxes slightly. Clearing his throat, Max launches into the speech he prepared.

“Sir, I’ve come today because I want to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage. We have been together for years now and I want to spend the rest of my life with her, completely committed to her happiness. She is the most amazing person I’ve ever known.”

Max pauses, blushing. “Sorry, I had this whole thing planned out better. I guess what I’m asking is — may I have your blessing to propose to Y/N?”

Your dad grins, clapping Max on the shoulder. “You know you didn’t have to be so formal about this. I already see you as part of the family.”

Max smiles bashfully. “I just wanted to show my respect for you and Y/N. Your blessing would mean a lot to me.”

“You have it absolutely. I couldn’t imagine anyone better for her than you.” He pulls Max into a hug. “Welcome to the family, son.”

Max leaves on cloud nine, thrilled to have this traditional step done right. Now on to planning the perfect proposal location away from prying eyes ...

After scouring options, Max selects a peaceful mountaintop in the Swiss Alps. Complete with luxury chalet just for the two of you — intimate but romantic.

Max painstakingly decorates it with flowers, candles, and photos of your relationship throughout the years. For the ring, he chooses two large natural diamonds in an unique asymmetrical setting, symbolic of two imperfect halves making a flawless whole.

Now fully prepared, Max just has to wait for your upcoming vacation to pop the question. He spends the days leading up to it buzzing with nervous excitement.

The helicopter ride to the mountain is pure torture for him. What if you say no? What if he fumbles the proposal speech? Endless doubts race through Max’s mind.

But as soon as he sees your delighted smile taking in the warmly lit cabin, his anxiety melts away. This evening is about letting his heart speak.

Through a private chef-cooked dinner, your laughter echoes in the chalet just like it always sounds. Full of joy and life and love.

Max knows that he’s ready.

Taking your hand gently, he leads you outside onto the moonlit balcony. Time to finally ask you to be his forever.

Max clears his throat, meeting your eyes. “Y/N, from the moment I met you, my world changed. Your smile and your light fill my days with meaning. You make me a better man.”

He slowly kneels, pulling out the ring box with trembling fingers. “I want to laugh with you, cry with you, share every high and low for the rest of our lives. Will you make me the luckiest man in the universe by becoming my wife?”

You clasp a hand over your mouth, eyes glimmering with tears. You only manage to get out a watery “Yes!” before also dropping to your knees in front of him.

Grinning ear to ear, Max slides the ring onto your finger with a kiss. “I promise to always love and cherish you.”

“And I promise the same to you, today and always.”

You throw your arms around him, both giddy with joy under the stars.

The customs that got you to this moment may have been old-fashioned but your love is timeless.

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trident-dragion · 2 years

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Reverse of Arcadia: Day 7

Well, it's officially been a full week's worth of progress on Reverse of Arcadia! Now, this is where I usually post my deck progress, but today there is none. Outside of the one copy of Starlight Road I'll need a lot more time to find, my deck is complete. I may make tweaks down the line as I learn the format and get new ideas, but for now, my deck's in a finished state. For now, my focus is on unlocking new things so I can build new decks, and explore the many different forms of the Disaster Dragon deck. Thanks for following these updates!

#yu-gi-oh!#world championship 2010: reverse of arcadia #so i MAY have booted up over the nexus again and made a new deck there #and i MAY have written a profile for it that's now sitting in my drafts #but today was still a reverse of arcadia day so i'm posting the final update #i'll continue to play the game of course but i just wanted to document my first week so i can look back on it #particularly see how my deck evolved throughout the week until by the end of it i finished it and got my cute outfit and everything

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vroomvroomcircuit · 1 month

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You pulling in made me wish your Dad pulled out

(A/N): Thank you to @foreveralbon for workshopping this fic with me with this prompt. I don't know what to do if you weren't my muse.

Summary: Charles pissed off his neighbor with his parking. Her answers are notes taped to his car window. How can evolve more out of that?

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x female!reader

Wordcount: 1.6k

🏎Masterlist🏎 ________________________

(Y/N) knows that she isn’t the most professional car parker. She should never start a career as a valet for sure. After all, she needed a second attempt on her own practical test to attain her drivers license.

But there is this one neighbor of hers. She doesn’t know what he looks like, what his name is or where he even lives. But (Y/N) knows one thing for sure: He is a shit parker.

Like, he is the worst person at parking that has ever walked the world. If he could, he probably would park his oh so expensive car onto other cars. But she tries to not let that get too close to her. After all, we just talk about parking spaces and it’s not worth getting her blood pressure up over it.

But (Y/N) found her tipping point.

Her whole morning has been a shit show. Her alarm went off, but she accidentally turned it off instead of giving herself another five minutes of sleep. Five minutes turned into 45. That meant the young woman had to rush through her usual morning routine and she is 90 % sure that she put at least one clothing item on the wrong way.

But it’s ok, she is still on time. She just needs to get out of the car par-

This is where (Y/N) last thread of patience with that neighbor snaps in two like a potato chip, crisp and unclean. This person parked the front half of his car in a way that completely blocks (Y/N)’s rear end from exiting the car in a way that does not hinder the sidewalk.

It takes a solid seven minutes to get out of her spot, trying not to scratch hers or another car. Arriving a few minutes late at work because of that and receiving a reprimand from her boss is really the young woman’s last straw. On her lunch break she does some snooping on the internet and comes across a really fine find. It’s worth the price and shipping cost to her.

Actually, she can’t wait for the week it is supposed to take to arrive at her doorstep.

But the time between that particular day and the day of arrival do fly by when you use it getting madder and madder at the dickhead that is unable to park like a normal person.

The next occurrence doesn’t take long after (Y/N)’s package finally arrives. She wanted to park her vehicle in her usual spot when Mr. Ferrari already took his and her own too. How can one person be such an asshole?

(Y/N) takes one of the business card sized cuts out of her glove box and puts it in the slit of the black car’s window. Satisfied with her work she steps back into her vehicle and looks for a different spot, ending up walking several minutes back to her apartment building, having to look somewhere farther away.

Charles can see from a distance that there is a card at his car’s windowshield. Which makes him suspicious. Surely no one thinks that he wants to sell his car for cheap, so it can’t be one of those car handler’s business cards. Maybe it’s a new ruse of thieves, trying to get him to stand long enough at his car to read it and be able to steal his car. Or they are kidnappers. Anyways, he makes quick work of putting the card into his pocket and drives off at a neck breaking speed.

When he arrives at his destination, the Monegasque pulls the piece of paper out and reads it. “The way you pulled in makes me wish your dad pulled out”, he reads aloud, laughing a little to himself.

He has to admit that he might not be the best at parking. Who is he even kidding, he would win the world championship at being the worst car parker possible. But the thought of someone getting that angered over his non-existent skills.

It’s something that makes him happy throughout his entire day. Which is his main reason to try and look how much he can piss that particular neighbor off even more.

So Charles starts parking even worse. If he also starts on the habit of watching out of his window more often now, he would claim it is just a coincidence. But something in him wants to meet that neighbor.

That person that gets more and more creative with their insults. One time they called him an obstacle to evolution. The other day the business card said something along the lines of him belonging to the asshole club now.

Another, a handwritten, note asked him not to reproduce. The neighbor even left a condom for him. This made Charles laugh so loudly, that (Y/N) looked out her opened window.

She just finished one of the worst shifts she ever had since starting that job and all she wants is just a quiet evening to come down from the stress. Just the noise of the laugh is enough to set her off again.

Seeing her handsome neighbor from under her apartment pocketing the note and condom she left just minutes earlier isn’t what she expected. Watching him opening the car, sitting down and driving off is even less on her list.

It kind of destroys her world view, realizing that hot neighbor and asshole parker are the same person. In the last couple of weeks (Y/N) started to get some fun out of the mean comments she left at the black Ferrari’s window. This also could be her chance to finally make a move on him.

The young woman waits for the brunette to return with his car and stays seated on her couch for another couple minutes, for extra measure of course. After that, she leaves the apartment building with her prepared note and tapes it to the car’s rear window.

Charles on the other side stays glued to his window as soon as he enters his apartment. He finally wants to catch the person that gets angrier and angrier each time he parks in an outrageous way in the act.

Seeing the beautiful neighbor, who lives above him, sticking another note to his car makes his heart flutter in an unexpected way. For some time now he wanted to get to know her and if everything went according to his original plan, ask her out on a date. But maybe he can now use this to his advantage.

As soon as the beautiful neighbor is back in the building Charles waits an extra couple minutes before he once again makes his way to his car.

Running over his vehicle with a pep in his step, Charles is kind of excited about what insults or threats await him now. He has to admit, he actually parked pretty decently. Or as decent as he is able to. So the note has to be at least a little bit nicer than the previous ones.

“Hey neighbor. I thought instead of shitting on you and your parking skills even more, I want you to help and get better. I may not be a driving teacher, but helping you wouldn’t make your skills worse. Just text me with the times you are available at ;)” signed with (Y/N)’s name and number.

It’s kind of funny to explain to the press later how Charles met (Y/N) and became her boyfriend.

"Yeah, well I know that my driving has become sort of a, a meme,” he answers when asked a week after his announcement on instagram, “And my neighbor wasn’t too fond of it either. So she started to leave me these really funny, but also really aggressive notes at my car. One said something like I won the inconsiderate Parker Price. Which made me quite proud.” This entices a laugh out of the journalist. “Yeah, (Y/N) has a really good way with words, I fear. But in the end she offered me some parking lessons.” Charles smiles and thinks back to them.

He had texted (Y/N) immediately and they set up a date for the lesson two days away. But they still continued to text non stop and by the time they met up, it felt like they had been friends for years.

Which didn’t stop (Y/N) raging at Charles after his fifth failed attempt of parking his car according to her instructions. “I don’t believe you anymore. With the way you park you are not from Monaco but the deepest and wildest parts of Italy! Your Ferrari seems really fitting now!” This drew a laugh out of him until she graced him with the meanest look he didn’t expect her to be able to muster up.

“How about dinner as a thank you and apology?” He asked sheepishly, trying both to diffuse the situation and make his move. Why not shoot his shot right now?

Luckily the young woman agreed.

“In the end my parking skills weren’t enough to win her over, but my charm was what scored me a second date.”

And a third. A relationship. After some more funny parking jokes and him kneeling down on one knee with a ring and the promise to take lessons to keep their future family safe he even scored himself his unexpected forever.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #x reader #reader insert #charles leclerc x female!reader #x female!reader

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leclucklerc · 7 months

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Hard Carry CL16 - 01. It's 2018, Baby!

Pairings: Charles Leclerc x driver!reader

Summary: It's the big year of 2018 and y/n is looking forward to win her fourth championship title. A pretty boy with green eyes won't distract her damnit!

Word Count: 4.5k

Previous Masterlist Next

2012

When Formula One fans talked about paid driver, they said that the position can go either two ways.

The first one, is being proven unworthy for the seat. With the highly competitive nature that the sport serves, it will only took one race, one qualifying, only one bad day, to show the world that you don't have enough experience or talent to deserve a seat in Formula One. That the reason why you're one of the top drivers in the pinnacle of motorsport is because daddy's got money.

Unfortunately - to the fans, or even to the said paid driver themselves - this scenario is often the case.

It is such a bad branding for rookie to have. To be branded as a spoiled and talentless kid that doesn't know how to do anything without the help of their famously wealthy parents. For someone that ha just entered the sport, for someone that is still searching for fans and sponsors, this kind of branding can be the death of their career.

Yet, why is there so many paid driver when the risk is evident?

The second scenario, is the most unlikely one. Though, it is still possible.

There is a probability that a paid driver can enter the sport, and show the world that they're as talented as y/n l/n, just like what she did back in 2012 when she famously entered Formula One because her dad bought the Porsche Formula One team.

It was such a controversy back then, for such a young driver - a female driver, something that the sport had never seen in decades - to easily enter the pinnacle of motorsport with the large monetary support from her dad. Back then, when it was not revealed yet that her dad had bought the team, many had anticipated her debut. When the news came out, many had muttered things like-

"Maybe she's just that talented?"

"She did won a lot of trophies in the lower category."

"Who cares? It's a sign that Formula One is finally evolving!"

"Bet she got a lot of skills."

And well, y/n does have skills. People had actually anticipated her arrival at first, saying that it’s time for Formula One to change and she will be the one to start the change.

Though back in 2012, that was not the reason why she managed to get into Formula One. Her dad, a famous billionaire from France, had bought the Porsche Formula One team and gave one of the seat for his daughter.

Cue, the many controversy.

Now, when she looked back, y/n really have to admit that the online and offline attack that she had received back then was simply atrocious. News outlets and magazines would print photos of her without her knowing, calling her a spoiled princess who is throwing tantrum and making Formula One a joke to the eyes of everyone.

Sport critics would make a whole segment with previous or current Formula One stars to talked about her. Many calling her undeserving, talentless, and many many sexist slurs that she doesn't even want to remember anymore.

While, okay, being a paid driver, it’s obvious that controversy will always follow. Thought, back then, she had thought, if she was a man, would the controversy became this big?

Paid drivers, after all, is known secret to everyone who watches the sport. Formula One is an expensive sport to start with, so it's no wonder that many people from a privileged background would start using Formula One as a chance for them to have a career outside of their wealthy family.

And don't get her started with drivers who has connections with retired Formula one Drivers!

At least half of the grid is the son or a friend or a family friend of a retired driver. If you want to talk about the sport with the most nepotism, y/n thinks that Formula One is up there.

Though, her controversy got blown up this big just because she has one thing that separates her from the rest.

She's a girl.

A girl who has no space in the world of motorsport.

Someone who doesn’t have balls hanging between her legs and somehow, it made people think that she’s less than them.

Honestly? Fuck them.

She knows the world of Motorsport. She knows, if her dad didn’t bought the team, there is no way her dream to become a Formula One driver will come true. No matter how much they preach about equality, women in sport, or even feminism, there is no way any of these teams will even look at her.

How can she get into the sport when no one will give her a chance? When everyone in this goddamn sport will always think that the world of Motorsport is only for men and she has no place Ini it? It’s only fair for her to use her advantage so that she somehow can have an equal ground with everyone else here.

During the start of the 2012 season, y/n is already in a bad mood from the start.

She fucked her qualifying. So fucking badly. She honestly thinks it's because of the added pressure from the press as well as the pre-race jitters that she had, almost throwing up in the garage due to how fucking nervous she is. All of those added, and yes, the result is a really bad qualifying.

P10 honestly is a really bad position when you have a car like Porsche. After all, her other teammate, Antonio Bacque, managed to snag P3 during the qualifying.

It's an embarrassing result and she really hates it. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that y/n was going to be eaten by the media with that kind of result.

Her first interview ever since the announcement of her position was with some famous sport channel. Y/n knows them, considering the've been blasting a lot of her controversies and 'questionable' behaviors for their viewer to watch.

So she should've expected the question that they had prepared just for her.

"What do you think about your path towards Formula One?" asked the woman, blonde hair and seems to be older than her for a couple of years. "Do you think that you still deserve the seat without the help of your father?"

She had froze, eyes flicking towards he PR manager who also got her eyes widened. It seems, the interviewer had asked her a question that was not previously approved by her team. Illegal? She doesn't know. Nor she cares.

After all, she's really fucking exhausted at this point.

There are too many glances and cameras towards her way. Too many layered questions and fake empathy from those around her. Too many, judgmental look from those who doesn't even know her personally.

Y/n is tired.

"Yes," she said, staring straight back at the camera. "Yes I deserve it."

"How so?" pressed the reporter once again. Fully knowing that she's a paid driver. Fully knowing that she had just fucked her qualifying up. Fully knowing, that she haven't shown the world her skills.

Yet.

The female stared at the camera, she's aware that her next answer will be the headline of every major sports channels the next day. That this answer can be the one to make or break her career. A brand, that will stuck to her until her retirement.

Should she play the part of a spoiled child? Or should she play the part of a hothead driver with a too big ambition? She could play with the male fantasy and become a docile and demure little girl with too much naiveté in this cruel cruel world of motorsport. To become the doll for this sport to play with without care in this world.

But she's better than that.

She's y/n l/n and knows she's worth more than those fake personas and branding. She knows that she deserves her seat and she will be damned if she didn't prove it to the world.

"Like this,"

And, she gave them the middle finger.

In the end, all of those criticism changed during the Australian Grand Prix.

It's stuffy and unbearably hot inside the car. Her race suit didn't help much. If she's in any other situation, she would've complained to everyone that's willing to listen.

Though, at this moment, she found herself to not care.

Bright eyes stared at the car in front of her. She could see the familiar Mclaren in front of her, passing the checkered flag. She could see the Mclaren team cheering by the fence near him. Y/n could only see Mclaren in front of her.

Only one car out of 22.

"P2, y/n," breathed out her race engineer on the radio as she passed the checkered flag. There's a hint of disbelief and wonder on his tone. "Fucking P2."

She screams, no doubt flooding the team radio with her rather inhumane scream as she let go her steering wheel and hold the top of her helmet. It's a bit unbelievable, a bit hard to belief, and of course, so so fucking wonderful.

"YES!" screamed the woman. "YES YES YES! OH MY GOD!"

Y/n could hear the announcer announcing the result of the race, voice excited at what just happened. After all, today on the 18th of March 2012, a Formula One history was just made. This day would be written as one of the most memorable moments in the history of Formula One.

As she hopped out of her car, her team is already out there, ready to celebrate with her.

Some would have criticized that action as excessive, considering that she didn't won the race. Though, this race was the debut race for Porsche. This is the race where the team can show the world that they're not here to play. They're here to win.

It could be said, that both the team and y/n's goal are aligned.

The girl wants to show the world of motorsport her worth. Want to show everyone, that she deserved her seat in this sport. Want to show, in this men dominated sport, a girl like her too, can thrive.

Her team too, wants to show the world of motorsport their worth. To show everyone that Porsche Royale Formula One team is here to stay and to make history.

Maybe that's why they worked so well. Maybe, that's why both Porsche and y/n became unbelievably loyal to each other. That the team, had became her second home and y/n had become someone that the team can trust fully.

If she looked back towards that day, she can confidently say that it was one of the happiest day in her life. It was her first race in Formula One, it was the start of her historical journey in this sport, and of course, it was the day that she managed to shut every criticism that was directed at her way.

It was satisfying.

2018

Y/n's presence is almost mythical at the grid.

Which is a bit weird, considering she had been a constant presence in the grid for years at this point. Still, it still didn't diminish the almost divine status that she had achieved amongst the fans of motorsport.

After all, there are drivers that's like that. Drivers that can command a room with their simple presence or someone that had reached so many achievements throughout their career that it sounds almost unbelievable. Drivers, that you had ever only heard of and never seen. Drivers, that had inspired the next generations of motorsport enthusiast to follow this adrenaline filled career path.

Y/n is one of those drivers.

Today is the pre-season testing and y/n is ready to retire from the sport.

"I'm going to retire," said Y/n as she groaned, stretching her back inside of Porsche's hospitality. "Like for real."

Truthfully, the weather today is perfectly warm. Barcelona in February had never been glaringly hot. The sun is shining above them and yet the temperature didn't rise unbelievably high. It should be a good day to do your daily routine and well, for y/n, this should be the perfect weather to do the pre-season testing.

Though, the ache on her joints is saying otherwise.

A hand hit her shoulder playfully. "You're only 23" said her athletic trainer, Luca. "That's like the age where everyone started their career," he said as he slid a strange concoction of healthy smoothie in front of her. "Drink this."

"But I started my career when I was 17," whined the woman as she sniffed the drink. It smells healthy. And weird. She really doesn't like it. "It's almost 6 years, I think it's an appropriate time for retirement, or maybe a promotion. Do you think I'll make a great team principal?"

The mere thought of this woman being Porsche's new team principal sends shiver down Luca's back. "Honestly, don't even joke about that because I seriously think Herman will get a heart attack."

Y/n laughed at that. Just imagining her team principal being shocked to the point of a heart attack just because she's going for a retirement is a bit funny to her.

It's the start of the 2018 season and she could feel excitement ringing through the air.

Somehow, the grid feels different than usual. People seems more excited, a bit wary, and yet, still excited. Y/n likes to think that it was because how exciting the 2017 season was, considering how intense the battle between her and Lewis for the driver championship title. Though, she knows that it was not the reason.

She glanced towards the cameras that littered around her.

In this season, somehow, there will be a documentary crew film documenting their 2018 season. Which is, weird. Formula One teams are notorious with their secrets and fear of corporate espionage after all. Now they're letting a filming crew to document all of the behind the scene of the season?

It's a new concept.

Herman had told her that almost all teams in the grid had allowed the filming crew to lingered around the garage. Well, except Mercedes and Ferrari - which shocked her a bit because she really think that this kind of thing is something that Lewis would do. But oh well.

Hopefully, this kind of coverage can boost the ratings of Formula One and make the sport more known to the general public. It will be great if there's a lot of new fans who will start to watch the sport from the documentary.

"Now that there's a film crew following us around," started y/n with a snicker, leaning back on her seat. "I think it will be more dramatic for me to announce my retirement right now, no?"

Luca sighed, "Y/n-"

"I hope you're not serious about that," said a dry voice behind her.

She doesn't even have to turn around to see who's standing behind her. "Herman!" she greeted, cheerful as always and as if she was not talking about possible retirement just a few seconds ago. "My favorite team principal, how are you?"

"Good," said the German, raising an eyebrow at her. "As long as your retirement plan stays like that. A plan."

The female nudged his shoulder playfully. "You know I love you too much for that."

"Really," muttered the team principal as if he doesn't believe what she's saying. "With how you behave lately, I really doubt that."

That, actually, made her laughed louder. "What do you mean? I've been a perfect worker!" she said, tone full of teasing. "I'll be a more star worker if our car this season is perfect like always." At this, she added a wink towards a team of mechanics that's sitting on the next table, eliciting a round of laugh from them.

"I'm counting on you then," said Herman as he took a seat in front of her. "I'm here to talk about other things."

She blinked. "What other things?"

The pre-season testing had barely started and he's already here to talk some serious stuff towards her? She's allergic to that.

"Someone wants to meet you," continued Herman as he took out his iPad, writing something on it. His thick rimmed glasses glinting. "It's a favor from a friend."

"Oh?" asked y/n. "Like, I don't know if you're aware, I'm a pretty popular girl," she started and Luca actually has the nerve to roll his eyes at her. "Lots of people want to meet me."

"It's a favor from Fred," continue the man, ignoring her comment. "It seems they found a star driver or something, someone that they really cherish. And apparently that rookie is a huge fan of yours"

Y/n blinked at that. Fred Vasseur is the team principal for Sauber Formula One team, one of the teams in the grid right no. They never really interacted much with Sauber, though she do knows that Herman and Fred are friends. Golf buddy or something. While the Sauber team itself is not one of the top team that will compete for the championship, it's famous for one thing.

Its relation to Ferrari.

While true, it's not like Sauber is Ferrari's b team like what Toro Rosso is to Red Bull, they still have a really close partnership with each other. Like really close. So close to the point that almost every part of Sauber came from Ferrari. For Fred Vasseur himself to ask a favor to Herman for their rookie driver can only mean one thing. This rookie driver is projected to drive for Ferrari.

A competitor then, she thought idly.

"Well, I'm honored," the woman finally said. "So where's the superstar?"

"They should be here soon-"

Just at that, someone opened the door towards Porsche's hospitality, calling Herman's name. "Herman!" greeted Fred as he entered the building with a perky energy. "And of course, y/n, always lovely to meet you."

"Freddie, Froyo, Fredman, it's been awhile," she greeted back, standing up to give the man a short hug.

Maybe it's because Sauber itself is not a champion winning team that it made them interact easier. After all, she can’t even imagine greeting Christian or Toto like this.

"Yes, yes," laughed the man, not looking the slightest bit uncomfortable at the random nicknames being used. "I told Herman already, but there's someone that want to meet you."

It was at this, that y/n realized that there's someone standing behind Fred.

A man, maybe around y/n age, a bit younger perhaps, could be seen standing a bit awkwardly. He's wearing the white and red Sauber shirt, paired with a ripped skinny jeans. From the get go, it's obvious that he seems uncomfortable at the sudden familiar setting of Porsche's hospitality. At the same time, his eyes looks excited and a bit jittery.

Y/n immediately knows that this is the future superstar. Sauber's apparent cherished rookie driver who is now being projected to be one of Ferrari's future driver.

For a career prospect, not bad. A Ferrari driver certainly is a good option. Though, y/n is sure if this Formula One driver gig doesn't work out, he can be a model or someone in the entertainment industry. Because honestly, the guy is really pretty to look at.

Warm green eyes, messy dark colored hair, and a nice face to look at. If he ever decided to become a model, he could probably be a successful one.

"Y/n," called out Fred, catching her attention. "This is Charles Leclerc, he's a big fan of yours."

He seems a bit embarrassed at that mention, what with how his cheeks started to redden and how he flail his hands around. Which is, cute.

"Really?" she said, smiling as a teasing grin entered her eyes. "Really honored, then."

Charles let out a huge smile at that, looking a bit relieved. "I should be the one saying that," he said and his English is thick with accent. French, she realized. "I've been following you since your debut."

She let out a low whistle. "2012? That's a long time," laughed y/n easily. "You were how old back then?"

"15," he replied.

"Ah, I'm only 2 years older than you then," she said, putting it at the back of her mind. "At long last, it's no fun to be the youngest on the grid for so long."

Herman coughed, eyes staring at her straight in the eyes, "There's Verstappen, he's also two years younger than you."

"But Max is way too serious!" she whined out, remembering Christian’s favorite driver. Ever. "It's no fun to tease him when he gets all broody, which is like 70% of the time."

"It's because you keep annoying him," said Herman dryly. "Anyway, Charles, correct? What do you think of F1 so far?"

Now, all of them are seated at the same table, making conversation with each other. Honestly, y/n is a bit invested at the topic. Moreso on Charles because with him entering his rookie season is like a wake up call for her.

Lately, more and more young driver debuted in F1. It started with Max and Carlos back in 2015. Younger and talented drivers with more vigor and a brand new vision for the sport. Back when she debuted, the grid was way older with more experienced driver filling up the spots. Now, it seems, the teams want to change the way they view the sport a bit.

Younger drivers started to arrive every year. Guys who had karted since they were four or guys who basically just skipped F2 straight into F1. Thinking back, it's a bit sad, because it made her realize that more of the older driver too, will retire soon. That the grid will change soon.

Hm, she thought. It's an added pressure for her.

Maybe it's because she debuted so young and had become a world champion when she was only in her second season, it made her think that she's way older than she actually is. This year is her seventh year in F1 and now she has three driver championships under her belt.

It's a bit jarring thought that she is now one of the most experienced driver in the grid.

Charles talked about his experience so far with so much enthusiasm and starry eyes that it made her want to protect him a bit. Which is normal, because to all of them, Formula One is a dream that they had ever since childhood. When they first entered the sport, it's only normal for them to look at everything with full of reverent and wonder.

The male seems to live and breathe just for racing. A feeling, that y/n can relate to.

"So you liking it so far?" she spoke up, catching everyone attention. "Does it fill up your expectations?"

"Yes," nodded Charles with a huge smile. "I'm really excited for the first race."

"Nice," grinned y/n.

Really, if anyone ever asked her what is one of the defining moment in her life, she would described this moment at one of them.

With Charles smiling in front of her inside the Porsche's hospitality, with the impending knowledge of a new generation of Formula One, and with the fear of destroying all of those Formula One hopeful dreams. It was at this moment that she decided something.

She really really wants this sport to be enjoyable for the young drivers. For them to have someone to talk to and not became a clueless little shit like she was all those years ago.

It was a decision that stayed on her mind as they continue their conversation. Herman seems interested in Charles, not that they can sign him for Porsche considering his love for Ferrari, but still, having an option is still a good one.

They stayed and chatted there until both Charles and Fred presence is needed back in the garage.

"Hey Charles," she said a few minutes later when both Fred and the younger male was about to leave Porsche's hospitality. The younger had asked her to sign three hats, saying that it's for him and his brothers who is also a big fan of hers.

Perking up, he motioned for Fred to walked ahead before he jogged back to where she's standing.

Pulling out of her phone, y/n let out a grin towards him, "Give me your number yeah? I think it will be fun to stay in contact."

Charles stared at her.

"Seriously?" he asked, blinking rapidly.

"Yeah."

Almost immediately, he scrambled to get his phone out of his pocket, to the point that he almost dropped it to the ground. It was such a comical sight that it made her laugh, which seems to only embarrassed him further. Maybe when they became a lot closer she can tease him more about this? Certainly a thought for the future.

They exchanged number and Charles thanked her many times, saying things that she's his idol and he really admire her. Y/n merely watched him, amused, at the blabbering, before he seems to realize that he had talked too much and excused himself in such a hurry.

Well, certainly, Formula One will be more interesting in the coming years, right?

Humming, y/n entered the Porsche hospitality once more, only to be called by Herman to discuss something.

"So," started the man, finger idly fiddling with the papers in front of them. "We need to talk about your teammate,"

"Ah," realized y/n. This is going to be a long and painful discussion.

Drive to Survive Season 1 episode 3

It's all about Porsche

Will Buxton appeared on screen, smiling. "The thing about Porsche is," started the man. "It's a team that most drivers doesn't want to be in."

A shot of y/n talking with Herman and the mechanics could be seen. Her face is serious as they discussed details about today's Grand Prix and the car. They seems dedicated in their work, a true showcase of the prowess of one of the top team in Formula One.

Which makes Will's earlier statement a bit bizarre.

"At least, if you're not y/n l/n," continue the man with a small laugh. "It certainly not because they have a bad car-"

Porsche's Formula One car could be seen zooming at top speed, a clear indicator on how fast the vehicle is going.

"-Nor is it because it's a bad team-"

Y/n's car could be seen entering the pit stop, something that the Porsche team handle flawlessly without a hitch.

"It's because of the strict hierarchy there," laughed Will, a wry smile appearing on his face. "A really really strict one."

Herman appeared after that, eyebrow raising at the question that the producer had asked off screen. "I think it's quite obvious who will be the no.1 driver," said the man bluntly. "It's an open secret in Formula One, no? About no.1 and no.2 driver?"

Christian Horner appeared in the dark interview room, wearing a dark cardigan and a light blue cardigan underneath it. The man laughed, almost throwing his head back at that. "No.1 and no.2 driver is common in Formula One, but no one impose it as strict as Porsche," said the man, eyes full of amusement. "The team is basically a y/n cheerleading squad."

Many clips appeared after that, of team orders to let the woman through or the team failures to handle a simple pit stop when it's not y/n on the car. Articles too appeared, of how often Porsche has to change one of their driver and to find someone that is perfectly fine to be the second best in their team.

It's a team that prioritize y/n. It's a team, that undoubtedly will choose y/n l/n as their number one driver and will never budge on that decision.

The thing is, if Porsche is not a championship winning team, this shouldn't be a problem. Many drivers are grateful to have a seat in Formula One even they ended up not in one of the top team.

But Porsche is a team that fights for championship. Their cars are fast. They're the team that fight for wins and podiums. They don't fight for points, they want wins and glory.

A complete domination. Just like their motto. And when a driver tasted that sweet sweet taste of victory, it's hard to stop.

"Formula One driver needs to think that they're the best," said Will. "It's a mindset that they need to have if they want to survive in this sport," he continued. "Can they really, give up wins for their teammate? when their direct rival is that teammate herself?"

Y/n has too much presence for her to be the number 2 driver.

She is the icon of the sport, someone that is way too talented and way too influential to be the second best driver. The team itself was basically assembled around the woman needs.

The mechanics is someone that she can easily discuss the car with, her race engineer remains unchanged ever since her debut because she's comfortable with him, heck, even Herman position is secured because y/n actually likes him as a team principal.

It's y/n l/n very own personal cheering squad and everyone knows it.

"Fighting y/n on track is already a hard fight to win," continue Will. "A really hard one."

A clip of her racing and passing so many drivers could be seen. Her skilled handling of the car, overtaking those in front of her, and being an all around driver that deserves the title of a world champion.

"Fighting y/n for a spot as Porsche's number one driver? Impossible."

"The drivers need to understand that we're fighting for championship," said Herman as the scene cuts back into him. "We need someone that can support us in that cause."

Christian appeared, laughing. "Well, there's a reason why they need to change their second driver five times since 2012," said the man, looking so fucking amused.

Porsche after all, is y/n's kingdom.

Taglist!

@mellowarcadefun @glai1023-blog @jjkclub @newlifeforus @jpg3 @sp1cycurry @eternalharry @be-your-coffee-pot @itsjustkhaos

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doromoni · 27 days

Text

Clash of Champions | LH44 , MV1

Act 1. Part 1 : Glorious Past

Ships : Lewis Hamilton x Engineer! Reader , Max Verstappen x Engineer! Reader (future)

Genre : Drama , Angst , Romance

Warnings : Morally grey! Reader

Summary : The rivalry between the titans of Formula 1 go off track and only one will reign victorious.

Mercedes Amg Petronas F1 team: Race Engineer, a title that you will forever embellish in your CV proudly. How many can say that their name will forever be attached to the glory and dominance of silver, black, and blue? The name Y/N L/N will forever be remembered in and out of the paddock as the voice that led a Mercedes driver to his heroic reign of victory.

But the journey to the top was not rainbows and sunshine, No. Moral compasses and integrities were bent more than once. No one understood how much you’ve bled to reach the top. Each cut deeper than the rest. Not one person knew except for one, He understood because he bled much worse. Lewis Hamilton.

Lewis was your life. In and off track , you cannot deny it and you prefer it that way. You were attracted to him, how can you not? His passion for greatness, his drive toward power, and the way he always gets what he wants.

However, no matter how much you wanted Lewis. You were bound to Mercedes’ regulations — with the no driver relationships clause in Red Bold Capital Letters, staring back at you. That and that he was already in a long-term relationship. And with that, you buried your feelings where no one would know. At least that was the plan.

But Lewis being Lewis, never made it easy for anyone and you were on the top of his list. It was all innocent at first but it quickly evolved as your time together lengthened.

Complicated was shy of describing what your relationship with the English driver was. It started with light teasing on onboard radio calls for all of the worlds to hear ,lingering touches in the garage when toto was not looking and the incredulously expensive gifts given without reason — tagged and penned in Lewis’ penmanship that wrote “ for MY race engineer for being a good girl and doing a good job”

But all hell broke loose on the night Lewis won his first Championship with Mercedes.

The chequered flag was waved and Lewis had been the first to cross the line and deafening cheers erupted all over the Mercedes Garage. The smile on you was gigantic and a breath of relief left your lungs, while your co-engineers shook your shoulders back and forth as they shouted at each other.

“Lewis Hamilton, You are the World Champion!!” You exclaimed in your mic to congratulate your driver.

Lewis’ melodic laugh filled your ears and the next words you heard stopped your earth from spinning

“Y/N L/N, I fucking love you! I can't…” Lewis was not done talking, but you cannot process anything else. He said he loved you. Did he mean it? Or was it just a figure of speech?

Lewis didn’t mean it that way, right? You were mistaken. Yeah… you were. I mean, he was in a relationship, he had Nicole.

Clearing your throat, acting as if nothing happened. You once again radioed

“Congrats, Champ! Get in there” And with that, you removed your headphones and started to proceed toward the nearest restroom to compose yourself. But the world had other plans.

Still dazed you were almost near the exit when the voice of your boss stopped you in your tracks.

“Y/N? Where are you going? You need to be at the podium and get the constructor’s cup” Toto said as he went near you. Not allowing you to oppose as he gently held your shoulders and maneuvered you toward the podium.

And just like that you were led towards where Lewis, Felipe and Valterri were behind the podium as they waited to be called out. As you neared, your eye naturally drifted towards Lewis and a smile uncontrollably spread on your face.

Not until Lewis charged towards you lifting you off your feet and twirling you around. Your initial shock turned to giggles as you patted Lewis’s shoulders signaling him to stop and to put you down.

He heads your plea and finally puts you down but not long after pulling you in a tight hug that brought butterflies to your stomach. His hand placement was a little too much for friends and way too much for colleagues. Lewis pulls back a little and gazes at your face with a soft smile.

“My little engineer, I’m so glad you’re mine” He muttered as He once again hugged you, placing his head on the crook of your neck. Another wave of confusion and questions filled your head. You were about to question Lewis on what he meant by that, but you were cut by the announcer calling Lewis towards the podium.

You were left alone to your thoughts, but once again you were not granted peace when you felt a soft nudge and an instruction for you to go to the podium and claim the constructor’s trophy.

the playing of the British and German anthems ensued to commemorate your Team as the winners of the race, but honestly, your mind was still muddled however you tried not to show it on your face. And at the last note of the German national anthem, like clockwork chaos filled the podium as non-alcoholic champagne was spraying everywhere. Joining in on the tradition, you took your bottle and sprayed everything and everyone in sight.

Thankfully it was nonalcoholic, it being Abu Dhabi, because if it were true alcohol you were sure that you were drunk. Because, a grinning Lewis Hamilton went near you once more but this time he nears his lips towards you, pecking your cheek on live television, where his girlfriend was just below the podium watching.

A small gasp leaves your mouth and your eyes widen. However realizing that literally thousands of people are watching, you try to play it cool as if it were an action between normal friends — by nudging Lewis aside and rolling your eyes, you then lift the bottle towards yourself and drink from the spout. Oh, how you wished it were alcoholic.

After the podium fiasco and saying goodbye to the team, you immediately went back to your hotel room. Pushing yourself towards the bathroom with your Pjs; a set of shorts and a tank top at hand — you washed off today’s sweat and thoughts. And led yourself to bed.

A celebratory party is sure to happen in Lewis’ honor, which means drinks, loud music, people, and Lewis … Lewis's girlfriend. You will not let yourself experience that, no, not today.

Groaning into your pillow, The series of questionable actions Lewis’ had done today had all come to your mind. Why must you cling to them? They for sure meant nothing to the British Champion. Right? You dug yourself deeper into the rabbit hole of your mind and without knowing you passed out from exhaustion.

And finally, you’ve found peace in slumber. But luck was never on your side, as your sleep was disrupted by unrelenting knocks on your door. Groggy, you slowly stood up and went towards the door, not even bothering to look at the peephole — you opened the door.

“Lewis?” You didn’t believe your eyes, so you rubbed them and lo and behold, it was the Lewis Hamilton in front of you.

“You weren’t at the celebration. you’re my engineer, why weren’t you there“ His voice held coldness and authority. Lewis wasn’t asking for answers, he was demanding them.

Your mouth opened and closed as you struggled to form sentences. So you just looked up at him.

Lewis’ jaw clenched at your lack of answers.

“Well? Aren’t you going to answer little engineer?”

“I wasn’t up for it? “ You tried to excuse. But you wish you didn’t as you saw the change in his expression. Fuck, Lewis was now angry.

He then grabbed your wrist and pulled you and himself into your room. As he closed the door, he pressed your back against it and caged you in between his arms.

“you weren’t up for it?” Lewis reiterated your words menacingly bringing shivers up your spine.

“Tell me, Y/N L/N. Why was my little engineer not celebrating my championship with me huh?” As Lewis spoke, his eyes lingered on your lips then came back up to look at you in the eye.

Not being able to answer or handle his glare, you tried to move your face to the side — only to be stopped by Lewis's finger on your chin. Leading your eyes back to him

“Nu-uh, Y/N. Eyes on me and answer my question. “

“I- i. Uhm” you stuttered as another chill went up your spine as Lewis’ hand now caressed your jaw.

“Speak Y/N” Lewis pressed, now a smirk presented itself on his lips. Your eyes naturally fell towards it At the sight of the smirk that haunted your dreams , you couldn’t help but bite your lip.

Being so concentrated on looking at Lewis’ lips you didn’t see that he too was looking at yours. His eyes darkened at the sight of you chewing at your lips, the habit you’ve done when you wanted something.

Letting go of all pretenses, Lewis drops down and kisses you with his pent-up emotions and tension that brewed between the two of you.

You gasped in surprise, and Lewis took advantage of this and pushed his tongue into yours. He then took your lower lip into his and softly bit it and soothed it by sucking, earning a whimper from you. Your hands slithered up his muscular chest towards his hair. A groan left his lips when you gently pulled at his nape.

At the sound of Lewis’ moans. It was as if you were drenched in ice-cold water. You were kissing Lewis Hamilton. IN A RELATIONSHIP, Lewis Hamilton.

No this was not right. No matter how good and right it felt. He was not yours.

You started to pull away, but Lewis only strengthened his grip on you. Trying once again to connect his lips to yours.

“Lew- I. We can't do this” You tried to push Him away. Yet, Lewis only caught your hand which was trying to create distance between the two of you.

“What, why?”

“Our contract says that we can't have a real-“ you tried to reason

“I don’t care about the contract! I’ll make them change it , I promise.” Lewis tried to calm you

“No, but Lewis we still can’t do this . This is not fair”

“Y/N, If it’s not already obvious, I like you. Fucking hell, I might even lo-“ As Lewis started to explain. You’ve had enough— you will not be a third party.

“ LEWIS YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND! “ at your outburst, Lewis was stunned

“I will not be the other woman, Lewis. I will not let myself be degraded to that level… I will not exchange my dignity for you— no matter how much I love you. “ You couldn’t handle it anymore, your tears started rolling down your cheeks.

“Baby Shh. Y/N Listen to me. Nicole and I broke up. I ended it earlier. “ Lewis tried to explain.

You just ruined a long-term relationship. The horror suddenly seeped into your brain.

“Fuck, no, it was not your fault Y/N. We’ve been having problems for a while and it was time to let go. You understand? “

You absently nodded, but you knew that you were a major part of their split … and you knew one day that this would come back at you one way or another.

But for now, you will enjoy your success in getting to call Lewis Hamilton yours. You were on the top of the world. Nothing can dampen your high, or so you thought.

2015

“Hey Y/N, did you hear? Red Bull is putting a kid on the track” Bonno, Lewis’ other engineer said. You were at Silverstone, testing several changes done with the car.

“Really? What’s his name?” You asked back

“Max Verstappen”

taglist : @vicurious28

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charlewiss-writes · 1 year

Text

call it what you want / charles leclerc

masterlist

day 13: necklace (one-word november prompts!)

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

word count: 1.8k

summary: after a awful night at qatar gp 2021, you were looking for a way out and charles was right there. how did your relationship evolve when you didn't want anything to do with anyone, but he was, well, him?

t you're constantly attracting eachother?

warnings: abusive behaviour. max being an asshole but only for the fic (I don't believe he is actually like that, I just needed someone to play the villain)

author's note: I know that it's late but i really liked how this turned out 🥹 hope you like it too!

inspired by:

I recall late November, holdin' my breath

sunday, november 21, 2021.

after coming second place, you knew max would be furious. he was still in the lead of the 2021 world championship, but with lewis just a few points behind him, the pressure was too high. you saw his faked smile on the podium, and even though your cheers for your boyfriend were genuine, the smile on your lips didn't quite reach your eyes.

max wasn't aggressive, but sometimes, when he was really mad about something that happened on the track, he would raise his voice a bit too high for your liking, and close the doors a bit too hard for you to avoid flinching. and that's what happened when the dutchman entered his driver's room after he had finished all his duties.

"what are you doing here?" he said, after closing the door a bit too hard. you winced at the venom that distilled from his voice. you quickly began to apologize, even though there was no real reason for you to do. "I'm sorry, I thought you might need-"

"I don't need anything from you. leave." he said, not giving you a second look. "what?"

"i said leave!"

too stunned to actually talk back at him for taking his anger out on you, you simply stood up and left, careful not to make too big of a fuss and trying to go unnoticed. when you got out the door of the hospitality, walking as fast as you could, you accidentally bumped into someone.

Slowly I said, "You don't need to save me

But would you run away with me?"

Yes (would you run away?)

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"y/n, right?" you nodded, still looking at your feet to avoid looking straight into the man's eyes. "are you okay?". you mumbled a quick "i need to go" before yanking your wrist out of his touch. still, he went after you. "I know you maybe don't know me, but please" he ran a little, just enough to put his body in front of you again, impending your way. "how can i help you?".

with how freaked out you were about the whole situation that had occurred in the last 5 minutes, you hadn't realised that the man that was in front of you was charles leclerc.

you didn't actually know him personally, just by the little gentle nods when you were accompanying your boyfriend to the races. still, he had always been friendly towards you, but that didn't mean you two were close. but he was your only way out of there, and there wasn't anything you wanted more than to get away from max, as quickly as possible, in whatever way you could.

"can you get me out of here?"

Starry eyes sparkin' up my darkest night

he nodded enthusiastically, looking intentionally at your eyes. it was like he was seeing right through you, like he knew about everything that went downhill inside the building behind you. and with that sympathetic look that could light up the whole night, he grabbed your hand and you two made your way out of the track, thankfully avoiding prying eyes.

All my flowers grew back as thorns

Windows boarded up after the storm

He built a fire just to keep me warm

the first few days where hard.

you didn't know charles that well, and he understood why you didn't feel comfortable talking about what happened that sunday night. after all, max was his friend first, and you thought that he wouldn't believe whatever you had to tell him if that meant going behind his friend's back.

but he proved you wrong.

day after day he called you, visited the place where you were staying, making sure you were okay, that you had everything you would need without actually having to leave, avoiding running into your now ex boyfriend. charles was doing everything in his power to help you through this time, but still giving you the space you desperately needed, wanting to get away from the racing world.

thankfully, max hadn't called you after everything that happened. it seemed like he understood the message quite clearly after you went back to your shared place and took everything with you.

All the drama queens taking swings

All the jokers dressin' up as kings

They fade to nothing when I look at him

monday, december 13, 2022.

the speculations about your breakup had started quickly due to your disappearance when the next weekend rolled around. it was weird, especially after being by max's side through the whole season. and even though the dutchman didn't actually confirm or deny the breakup rumors, when he won the 2021 world driver championship and had another girl cheering for him, it became quite clear that you two were over.

charles and you had grown closer since that night in qatar, and after abu dhabi, he flew as quickly as he could back to monaco. not only because he desperately wanted the season to be over after finishing seventh in the standings, but because he wanted to see you as soon as possible, to assure that you were doing okay after max's little show the day before.

"what are you doing here?" you were a little surprised to see charles back at your place, in monaco, after watching him on tv a few hours before, racing on the other side of the world. "wanted it all to end as soon as possible. took the first flight back home" he hugged you and rubbed your back while doing so. you moved aside, so he could step into your apartment.

"i know you saw the little stunt he pulled yesterday" he mumbled, seated in your couch with his arms resting on his knees, looking at the floor. he never referred to max by his name when he was talking about him with you, not that it happened often. being a harry potter die-hard fan, he preferred to call him by voldemort's nickname in the series, he who must not be named. it was a silly thing to do, but it always made you smile. you sat next to him and put your palm on his knee, reassuringly. "i'm just glad you got tenth place" you smiled, and now he turned his head, connecting his blue eyes with yours. "i'm sure you'll do better next season".

And I know I make the same mistakes every time

Bridges burn, I never learn, at least I did one thing right

monday, february 14, 2022.

"can we go out tonight?" charles looked at you with pleading eyes, while laying on your stomach. "you're sure?" you said, clear doubt in your voice. being valentine's day, you knew that if anyone saw you, they would put two and two together and figure that between charles and you there was something bigger than a friendship.

not that you really cared about what anyone would say, but it would be like throwing a match to a gasoline tank, inevitably exploding, and you were afraid that it would break you two apart. charles would be called a bad friend, a traitor, like anyone apart from you three knew what truly happened between you. and you would be called every name on the book. so you wanted to avoid going public for however long you could, keep your situationship in the dark.

"yes, are you?"

after everything that happened with your ex, you had almost promised to yourself that you wouldn't date another driver on the grid. and it wasn't intentional, but how could you not fall for charles when he was an angel sent from heaven?

My baby's fit like a daydream

Walking with his head down

I'm the one he's walking to

saturday, march 20, 2022.

going against your friend's advice, you decided to join charles on the first race weekend of the season. it was your first race back since everything went downhill in qatar, so you were nervous about running into max or any redbull's employees, knowing that your presence would eventually be disclosed to the dutchman. so, you remained at all times on charles' trailer, where usually no one came close, and no one apart from his pr manager and carlos knew about you turning up to bahrain.

not even charles, as you didn't want to distract him from qualifying.

only after getting pole, for the first time of the season, carlos was the one responsible to tell his monegasque friend that you were actually there. he almost was as quickly as his car when running through the paddock, trying to get to you as quickly as possible. once he made it through the door, closing it fast to avoid any spying eyes, he reached for you, already standing on the middle of the room, prepared to congratulate him on his achievement. "I knew you could do it, love!"

"everything for you".

I want to wear his initial

On a chain round my neck, chain round my neck

Not because he owns me

But 'cause he really knows me

thursday, august 12, 2022.

even though you were acting like a couple for a bit now, and everyone that knew you thought that you were, in fact, together, you two weren't official yet. not because you didn't want to, but you wanted to avoid moving too fast, and charles understood your decision. you were seen at the track a couple of times now since the season started, always by the monegasque side, but walking behind him, careful to keep your distance.

but now, since the summer break had started, you had spent every waking moment together in your apartment, almost attached to the hip. considering that he would be going with his family on a trip soon, you didn't want to lose any moment you two could enjoy, not wanting to miss him later, even though it would be inevitable.

"why don't you come with me then, ma belle?" charles said, while packing the things he kept at your house on a suitcase. you laughed a bit, thinking that he was joking. when you saw his serious face, you got up from the couch and went to hug him from behind. "maybe another time, love. now you have to rest, spend some time with your loved ones".

"then you should be there too" charles turned his head a bit so he could kiss your temple. he whispered in your ear "wait, i have something I've been waiting to give you."

you weren't good with surprises, so you stood up quickly after charles had gone to grab whatever he had on his jacket. pouting, you said "what is it, charles?"

"don't be inpatient and close your eyes for me, love" he called with a tone full of mischief. you laughed a bit and put your hands covering your eyes, to avoid the urge to spy. "put your hands out" charles commanded and you obliged, extending your palms face up towards where you assumed he was standing.

he deposited a small box that, once he told you it was okay to open your eyes, you could see that was white. opening it you saw a beautiful necklace with a little c letter on it, small but still visible enough. "i know this could be too soon for you, but i need to do this. you can call it what you want, but please, will you be officially mine?"

smiling, you answered softly. "nothing i would want more, charles".

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x you #charlewiss writing challenge #one word november prompts #user charlewiss #f1 x y/n #f1 x yn #formula 1 imagine #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc blurb

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chibrary · 3 months

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INTERVIEW: "Ferrari, I won't stop believing in it. I see myself as world champion" (La Repubblica, 2022)

source: alessandra retico, la repubblica published: june 15th, 2022 series: f1, 2022

excerpts:

Do you envy Verstappen at all? No and I don't think he envies anything about me either. We are two different drivers, I focus on myself to be the best version of myself, I will never be someone else. I am happy with my development and will continue to evolve.

You're very tidy on the track, are you also very tidy in your private life? No, I'm messy. I reserve order and discipline for motorsport.

In the film [Lightyear], there is a kiss between two women that has already created controversy: does it surprise you? For me, homosexuality is a completely normal thing, I have gay friends, I don't understand how today there are people who don't understand that love is for everyone. F1 must lend a hand to those who don't have such a powerful voice to express difficulties in everyday life.

They have given you many names: predestined, prince, which one do you recognize yourself in? They are all positive and make me very happy, but what I like most is what my father gave me, pins à roulettes when I started racing, I was 4-5 years old, I was all small and you could only see the big helmet.

Were you never afraid? No, never, even if looking back at the accidents I tell myself I was lucky.

What did you buy with your first paycheck? A 1969 Fiat 500, off-white, convertible. The side-by-side? I didn't have too much trouble driving it. Then I went to Indonesia in Bali with my best friends.

A pinhead with wheels underneath. The yellow helmet was so big and he was so small, that his father called him pins à roulettes: "It's the image that corresponds to me and I like best about myself." Even though Dad Hervé is no longer here, Charles Leclerc still goes fast and stings the heart with the same ardor as when he was a child. He has a Ferrari to do it. "I want to become world champion , I will believe in it until it is no longer mathematically possible." Six poles in 8 grands prix but only 2 successes, now he is 3rd behind the Red Bulls of Verstappen and Perez. Two retirements in the last 3 races (Barcelona and Baku) due to reliability problems, in the middle his very bitter Monte Carlo: from 1st to 4th due to a mix-up of strategies. His engine is in Maranello: in Montreal he will fit a new one, to be determined if he will need a fourth turbo which would cost him a penalty.

Still optimistic? I will never give up, this has always been my mentality. I want to win, the World Cup is long. We have to understand the problems we had, they were three tough blows. Not an easy moment, but this doesn't change my motivation.

Doesn't reliability worry you? No, but a lot of attention is needed, the customer teams also had problems. But I have faith in this team and once the problems have been resolved, the pace and performance are there. I believe in it. I may be crazy, but I also believed in the two previous seasons as soon as I put the visor down, even though I could aim for a 10th place at most. This year we're really there, we just need to focus on ourselves and solve the problems as soon as possible. It's an important championship, we have a great opportunity to do well. There is too much positivity when things go well and too much negativity when they go badly. We need to find a balance.

Did you sleep after Munich? I did it, even if it hurt. But already in Baku I reset and got back in very good shape. It will be the same here in Montreal too.

How do you recover from disappointment after delusion? I know well what it means and what it feels like when you win, it's one of the few things that give me such great happiness. It's this that drives me to train every morning. This year we should have had more successes than we have for the reasons we know, but I'm sure it's just a matter of time to get back to where we want to be.

Do you need more calm or a winning mentality? Everyone has their own way of arriving at things. For me, being calm and concentration are fundamental. And when there is an excess of emotions it is important to return to your own bubble without being disturbed.

Do you have anything special about qualifying? I don't know, you can make a difference on the flying lap, because every mistake you make costs you in the end. For now it's gone well, I understand the car enough. But I'm also happy with the race which was my weak point in 2019, I worked on it and I think I improved a lot.

Compared to your partner, Sainz, you seem to have more confidence with the car. I can't speak for Carlos, this year I prepared better than in the past. Lots of simulator and in the pre-season tests I tried things that perhaps didn't make sense but I didn't want to overlook anything and be as ready as possible for the first race, there I wanted to be where I am and give it my all. It paid off. These new cars are difficult to drive and the details of going fast have changed. All the drivers have made mistakes and it's up to me to make as few as possible. I take risks, like in Imola. Even when you can't see it. I think it's the right approach and for now I'm happy.

Do you envy Verstappen at all? No and I don't think he envies anything about me either. We are two different riders, I focus on myself to be the best version of myself, I will never be someone else. I am happy with my development and will continue to evolve.

How did you miss the plane to Montreal? I went home on Monday. The flight from Nice to Paris was delayed. So I missed the connection but then I arrived safe and on time.

You're very tidy on the track, are you also very tidy in your private life? No, I'm messy. I reserve order and discipline for motorsport.

What do you write in the notebooks you read during free practice?

Everything: my feelings on the car and the things I want to try on the track. I get lots of ideas so I write them down so I don't forget them. And I write them in pen so I'm sure I'll find them again, before I used an app on the tablet which often deleted it all.

You voiced a character in the Disney Pixar film, Lightyear: The True Story of Buzz . Do you feel like a superhero? No. I feel like a normal person, even if I do a sport, I don't call it work, very special which isn't for everyone. I'm just lucky.

In the film there is a kiss between two women that has already created controversy, does it surprise you? For me homosexuality is a completely normal thing, I have gay friends, I don't understand how today there are people who don't understand that love is for everyone. F1 must lend a hand to those who don't have such a powerful voice to express difficulties in everyday life.

What are you like in everyday life? I have a routine: diet, gym, rest. Discipline is the biggest change I've made. In a year like this I want to be at 110% for 22 races. Will we get to 24? I'll be even fitter.

You play the piano. If F1 were a musical genre, what would it be? A very strange mix between classical and rock and roll. I think it's an exercise in adaptation between aggressiveness in qualifying and gentleness in tire management in the race. Playing helps me, I did it as a child, my brother Arthur is very good, I I started again during the pandemic by taking back the piano that was from my mother.

Don't you sing? Sometimes in the shower. Out of tune? I don't know, I just wouldn't have the courage to do it in front of someone. Poor Seagull sung in Bahrain? A joke with some of the team. I prefer to invent on the piano, it's something I share with my girlfriend Charlotte who will become an architect in two months. Like me, she is very creative.

Is creativity also useful for being a pilot? You need speed, precision, concentration. And courage. Let's take Jedda: a very fast track, close walls. There you feel the risk you're taking but you have to go and not think about it, this is what I like about this sport. I know it's dangerous, but I like to play with limits.

Were you never afraid? No, never, even if looking back at the accidents I tell myself I was lucky.

What did you buy with your first paycheck? A 1969 Fiat 500, off-white, convertible. The side-by-side? I didn't have too much trouble driving it. Then I went to Indonesia in Bali with my best friends.

You love fashion, when will your first clothing line be launched? I would like to do it in the future, it is one of my passions, I believe that fashion is a means of expressing oneself without speaking. For now I am content with wearing things that I like. My mind is busy trying to win the Championship.

Have you already booked your summer holidays? In Sardinia with my friends on my Riva boat. Then in Ibiza with the family, but I remain focused: gym and equipment within reach.

Who will you cheer for at the World Cup in Qatar? Since there is no Monaco and Italy, France.

How do you see yourself at the end of the year? World champion and that's it.

#year:2022 #series:f1 #format:interview #charles leclerc

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south-of-heaven · 9 months

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Enemies to lovers with Rhea where they are both rivals for the world womens championship but they have to face chelsea and sonya for a regular match and they realize their feelings for each other

Rivalry || Rhea Ripley x Reader

Summary: You and Rhea are rivals, but when you get put in a tag match against Chelsea Green and Sonya Deville, sparks fly.

The roar of the crowd filled the arena as you stepped into the ring, ready for your tag team match. Tonight, you found yourself paired with your longtime rival, Rhea Ripley, against the formidable duo of Sonya Deville and Chelsea Green. The tension between you and Rhea was palpable, but you both knew that you had to set aside your differences to take on the common threat.

The match started, and the atmosphere was charged with electricity. The rivalry between you and Rhea had been fierce over the years, with each of you vying for the spotlight and the Women's World Championship. But tonight, there was a shared goal – to defeat Sonya and Chelsea.

As the match progressed, you and Rhea found yourselves working together surprisingly well. The chemistry between you two was undeniable, and you seamlessly complemented each other's strengths and weaknesses. It was as if all the years of rivalry had prepared you for this moment, pushing each other to be better competitors.

However, as the intensity of the match increased, so did the animosity between you and Rhea. The temptation to go back to your old ways and treat each other as rivals was strong, and you found yourselves exchanging heated words in the heat of the battle.

But just when it seemed like all was lost, something clicked between you and Rhea. You both realized that your rivalry, though fierce, had also driven you to become better wrestlers. The passion and determination that had fueled your clashes could now be redirected into working as a united front.

As the adrenaline surged through your veins, you and Rhea found a newfound understanding and respect for each other. You knew each other's moves and tactics so well that you could predict each other's next move. It was as if you were dancing in perfect sync, anticipating each other's actions before they even happened.

With a final, coordinated effort, you and Rhea managed to secure the victory against Sonya and Chelsea. The crowd erupted into cheers, recognizing the incredible display of teamwork they had just witnessed.

As the referee raised your hands in victory, you and Rhea shared a moment of unspoken understanding. The rivalry between you had transformed into a shared bond of respect and admiration. You realized that while competition was important, there was also room for camaraderie and friendship between fierce competitors, maybe even more than that.

In the aftermath of the match, as you caught your breath and celebrated your hard-fought victory, you and Rhea found yourselves drawn to each other. The sparks that had once flown from your rivalry were now replaced by a different kind of energy – one of mutual respect and a newfound connection.

From that moment on, your rivalry with Rhea took on a new dynamic. While you still competed fiercely against each other, the animosity had softened into a deeper understanding. You continued to push each other to be the best versions of yourselves, but now it was with the knowledge that you were also allies on this journey.

Over time, your relationship with Rhea Ripley grew stronger, transitioning from rivals to friends who understood each other in a way that no one else could. The Women's World Championship would always be a point of contention between you, but now it was accompanied by a shared journey of growth and mutual support.

And so, the rivalry that had defined your relationship with Rhea evolved into something more meaningful. The sparks that flew during your tag match were just the beginning of a deeper connection, one that continued to surprise and inspire you as you faced new challenges together. Who knows what the future holds for you and Rhea, but one thing was certain – your rivalry had transformed into a powerful friendship that would stand the test of time, and that friendship would surely turn into something more.

#wwe fanfiction #wwe x reader #pro wrestling #wrestling #wwe #rhea x reader #rhea ripley x reader #rhea ripley #the eradicator

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luchitohamilton · 11 months

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when you get asked to describe what F1 represents for u in one word but you´re lewis hamilton (spain gp '23)

Adventure. Because everyday is an adventure in Formula 1, you know, everyday you´re doing new photo shoots, you´re getting to drive a car which is constantly evolving, you're fighting for championships, you're up and down on energy levels, you're traveling around the world, you're seeing different cultures. It's a constant constant adventure and a quest for perfection.

#lewis hamilton #spain gp 2023 #spanish gp 2023 #f1 #formula 1 #other drivers: passion #lewis: 🗣#pal archivo #more than represent they used the word evoke but i dont speak french so icannot confirm also idc

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charlie-lec-stories · 6 months

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Dirty Little Secret - Part 1: Qatar // CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc / Original Female Character

Series Summary: Charles' wife went to The Other Side and came back, but her past did too.

Chapter Summary: Qatar's high temperatures prove to be deadly when a terrible crash happens on the track.

Series Warnings: Death, descriptions of CPR and a car crash, sexual comments and implied sexual acts, mentions of blood, mentions of suicide and depression.

Author’s Note: This is a special I decided to write inspired by Halloween and the Qatar GP, it's five parts long. It's the first time I write something for this page instead of editing thing I have written before, I hope you guys like it. Rate: +16 (descriptions of medical procedures).

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The first memory Charles had of his wife is from a rainy day twenty years ago. He was getting ready to jump into his kart when he saw her, red hair blowing in the air, a lilac helmet under her arm and a matching race suit, with her name, Y/N, embroidered in black cursive letters. She was the prettiest girl in the world, he was sure, so sure that he told his father that he was marrying that girl when he was older. But that pretty redhead was not seen again for many years. He kind of forgot about her and that smile that missed a few tooth, the memory of her appearing once in a while, triggered by the combination of red and lilac. They crossed paths again when they were fifteen but the relationship they developed was anything but amicable. Charles spotted her instantly, her hair exactly the same as he remembered it, but what he also noticed was that she was hanging from Max Verstappen's arm. They were laughing and talking excitedly as Max explained something to her. He could feel his blood boiling inside his veins, now that he finally saw her again she had to be around his most hated rival. He tried to approach her once he found her alone but the second she saw him she walked away, right back to Max, who put a protective arm around her shoulders and sent Charles a dirty look.

It took a few years for Charles and Y/N to get along and then just months to start dating. Charles learned that Max and Y/N were best friends since she moved from her home country to Netherlands. She lived in Monaco for a few months in between that, that's when they first met, and then her family settled in Roosteren, a town in Netherlands bordering with Maaseik (Belgium) where Max grew up. They went together to school and karting, becoming close pretty quickly. That's why she initially didn't like Charles, his rivalry with Max was so strong that she even disliked Charles. But with time his relationship with Max evolved into mutual respect and Charles and Y/N started getting to know each other better. When they were twenty, Charles made a bet with her: if he got to win the F2 Championship, she had to go on a date with him. She said yes and after he won they went to the first of many incredible dates they had together. Max took the relationship way better than Charles expected and he even gave them a gift for their first anniversary. Both Charles and Y/N gave everything to the relationship and Charles was elated with that, he loved how committed she was from day one. He felt like they were perfect for each other, a match made in Heaven. Being that close made it difficult for Charles when Y/N would spend so much time with Max, but he understood that they were best friends and needed some time for themselves.

After almost six years of dating, Charles and Y/N got married. It was a little celebration with their families and closest friends. It was also Y/N rookie year in F1, driving for Aston Martin along Fernando Alonso, with a contract until 2026. Everyone was happy, they were glowing and already planning for a year off together to have children when her contract was over. They married during summer break and moved their honeymoon to the off-season because Max and Y/N had their annual trip to Netherlands together right after the wedding. One thing Charles noticed was that Max and Y/N always went together back home on summer break and whenever he suggested they changed the date, both refused instantly. The trip wasn't long, it was just four days and they stayed at Y/N's childhood house. Charles never went with them, he suspected that the trip was more than just wanting to visit a childhood friend, but he could see that the topic was kind of delicate to them. He asked once about it and Y/N showed such hurt about it that he regretted asking. "We always go back to visit a friend of ours, it's complicated". He got that answer on their second year dating and was never told anything else about it. He never dared to ask Max and by the gloom mood the Dutch always wore for the trip, Charles knew better than to pry. It was something that Charles really wanted to know about since it seemed to affect Y/N pretty bad. Each time she came back extremely depressed and quiet. The last one hadn't been different, still, she recovered and went back to racing, winning two races in a row. Now, it was time for Qatar.

The heat was unbearable, Charles could feel it sweeping through his seat and into his suit, and that shouldn't happen. Lewis and Fernando had just been denied their petition to cancel, the two older drivers having taken the matter into their own hands to protect the younger ones. Max had talked to Christian to see if they could do something with Red Bull as a team. Nothing worked, the FIA wanted the race to happen so it was going to happen. They were all exhausted from the sprint the day before and they all felt terrible. Y/N looked down, she didn't do well with heat. Charles walked to her and sat by her side, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles gently.

"How are you holding up, Bunny?". He asked once he was sitting next to her on the floor, as everyone waited for the order to go to their cars. "Bunny" was a nickname that everyone had for her, she was a Loony-Tunes fan and had a lot of merchandising of it: mugs, shirts, hats, bags, you name it, she had it. Charles usually watched it with her, Bugs Bunny was her favourite.

"I think my teeth are sweating". She was frowning with annoyance, but that was quickly replaced with a giggle when she heard Charles laugh at her comment. They kept laughing softly, avoiding looking at each other, knowing that the cameras were following their interaction. She didn't like public displays of affection, not even with Charles, it made her uncomfortable to have her relationship analyzed all the time, so she just agreed to some light kissing and quick hugs. With her friends it was also a no, a lot of rumors circulated all the time, with almost every driver, even with her teammate, old enough to be her father, who she called her "racing dad". Fernando was the best teammate a rookie could have, he was experienced and patient, he took the time to explain things to her and guide her through everything that the racing world threw at her. They were really close, she was the kid he never had.

"Bunny, I tried, but they won't cancel". Fernando stood in front of them, an apologetic look on his face.

"I'm sure you did, Dad, don't worry". Next to him was Lewis, fumming,

"We should refuse to race. All of us together". The seven-time champion was an expert on getting people to work together for shared goals, and he was fearless when it came to things being unfair.

"Some of us could loose our seats for that, Lew". She knew that even if the four of them were safe, other drivers weren't that lucky. Most of the contracts said that they couldn't refuse to race, not without the green light from their Team Principal, and they were directly commanded to race.

"I know...". Lewis bit his lip, trying to contain his anger. "It's just so unfair". He shook his head when he heard the call for them to go to the cars. Y/N took Fernando's hand and got up. Charles gave his wife a hug and a quick kiss before parting to his car and hear her say her last bit to the conversation.

"Sadly, I think not even a tragedy can make them prioritize our lives over the money".

It was a 57-laps race. Charles and Y/N had their radios connected all the time, they couldn't talk to each other, but it gave them some peace of mind to hear the other's voice through the race. Everyone was complaining about the heat. Esteban threw up inside his helmet, Logan had to retire and Fernando asked to be drenched in cold water, something that was definitely not happening but God... he wanted it to. Charles felt like he was dying, his head hurt, it was hard to breath and the sand on the track made the car difficult to control, much more strength needed to keep the car on the track. It was lap 38 and he already wanted it to end, the first time in his life that he hated his job. He could hear that Y/N was complaining a lot, her voice tired and annoyed on the radio. She was uncomfortable on her seat, she had cramps on her hands and legs due to dehydration and her head was pounding non-stop. Still, she didn't feel like retiring and she made it clear. He could see her car moving around the track in front of him. She was P3, Max P4 and he was P5, with a prominent gap of almost 4 seconds to Max.

"Max is not doing well. He will retire this lap". Charles heard Xavi, his race engineer, on the radio and then heard his wife talking again, probably after getting the news about Max herself from her own radio.

"This conditions are inhuman". She sounded angrier than before, she was probably worried about her friend. "I can't believe they didn't cancel, I can't beli-". The radio transmission was cut short as Max's car collided with hers. Charles saw the whole accident happen in front of him, even having to drive out of the track himself because of it. They were all on turn 4, she turned, Max didn't. He didn't even break, his front wing impacting the right side of her car and pushing her against the wall of the track in a T-shaped crash. Everything happened so fast Charles was having trouble processing the information. Xavi kept asking him if he was alright, but he was already getting out of the car. He wanted to run, to fly even, to get to her as fast as he could, but his legs weren't as fast as he wanted them to be. Max wasn't moving, unconscious in the cockpit. He could see Y/N moving and climbing out of her car, walking towards Max like she was drunk, her feet unsteady and her arms moving strangely. She seemed like a mix of tired and dizzy. He kept running but felt like he wasn't getting closer. He never noticed how much physical distance 4-seconds gaps actually were. He saw his wife doing what she could to get Max out of his car, a fire burning tall were their cars connected, close to Max's cockpit. She was walking backwards, Max's body limp against hers and she was using all of her strength to carry him away from the fire. Charles was a few meters away when she suddenly shook, a little yelp coming from her then falling to the sandy ground with a muffed thud, Max atop of her.

"Bunny! Max!". Charles screamed as he ran towards them. He kneeled next to the pair and quickly removed Max from his wife. The Dutchman was breathing softly, his chest barely raising with each little breath. Y/N, on the other side, was still, too still. He removed her helmet and balaclava and the first thing he saw were her eyes slightly open and unfocussed. Panic spread through his body when he couldn't find her pulse on her neck and no air seemed to come out of her, nor come in, her chest not moving at all. He removed his own head protection as fast as he could and opened her suit to move her clothes out of the way to start CPR compressions. "Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf, dix". Charles counted, the sweat from the heat and the strength the CPR took mixing with his tears. "Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf, vingt". One more set and he had to do two ventilations. He decided to focus on his task, even if a thousand thoughts went through his head. "Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf, trente". He moved her head up and pinched her nose with that hand, pulling softly at her chin with the other to open her mouth, covering it with his own as he exhaled into her. Twice. He could only cry and plead as he moved away from her, to start the compressions again. "Please, mon amour, please don't leave me". He placed his hands on her chest again. "I love you too much, please stay with me". The pain inside his chest made it impossible for him to notice the heat anymore. He needed her back, he couldn't loose her. "Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf, dix".

"Charles, you're gonna finish the set of compressions and then we're gonna take it from there, do you understand?". He never noticed when, but the paramedics made it there. As he nodded his head and kept working, he saw how some medics got Max on a stretcher and gave him oxygen.

"Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf, trente". He was pulled away from Y/N when he made it to thirty. His first instinct told him to fight, to crawl back to his wife and never leave her side, but the arms that pulled him away were giving everything they had to keep him there. It didn't matter how much he cried or fought. The doctor cut her fireproofs open and placed the pads of the defibrillator on her chest. He could hear the machine talking, explaining that there was no pulse. "No! No! No!". He repeated as he kept fighting the marshal holding him down. Another medic was ventilating her with a bag valve mask. The machine told them to clear and everyone pulled away from her. Her body went stiff and then relaxed. The machine made more sounds and Charles felt like everything was taking too much time for his liking. Swiftly, Y/N was moved to a stretcher and took into the ambulance that just then Charles seemed to acknowledge. The last time he could see his wife, the machine was saying something but he was unable to hear as he was pulled away towards the safety car that had to take him to the garage, the ambulance taking off and disappearing from his sight.

He can't remember how he made it to the hospital, but the next thing after the safety car, he's sitting in a room, an IV connected to his arm and Joris rubbing his back. He could see thought the little window of the door that Arthur, his younger brother, was outside with Lorenzo, his older brother. The other two Leclercs were arguing and Charles could only worry as he felt his body too relaxed but his head racing. A doctor walked towards his brothers and after talking for a few moments, the three of them walked in. The doctor stood in front of him.

"Mr. Leclerc, your wife is stable now". She said with a small smile. Charles could feel the wet pattern of his tears on his cheeks. "She had a concussion. A big one, and between the dehydration and the effort of carrying Mr. Verstappen out of the car, her heart gave up and she had a heart-attack". Charles nodded. "You save her life. Her heart stopped working and the CPR you did on her kept her brain oxygenated enough time for us to start her heart back on. She's alive because of you".

"Can I see her?". He felt his throat dry and stiff as his hoarse voice came out in a whisper. The doctor nodded her head and helped Charles up.

"Yes, you can". She walked him through the hospital with his IV still connected, to help him recover from his own dehydration. Joris took the pole with his IV bag and carried it. "She's asleep now and we're getting her strong again with a supplement we're giving her through her IV". The doctor explained while they walked. "She has to stay for observation for 24hrs and then, if her MRIs are alright, you'll be able to go home". He nodded and took a deep breath when they stopped at the door of his wife's room. Then, anxious about what was waiting for him at the other side of that door, he pushed down the handle and walked in. He sat next to his wife and held her hand, kissing it softly. She moved a bit, stirring, and with her eyes still closed she called out:

"Maud?"

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This is the first part! Enjoy.

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc imagines

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