Enough | Mv1

Call Me When You Breakup

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: Max is in the wrong relationship, and you both know it. But knowing isn’t choosing, and you’re done waiting.

1.8k words / Masterlist

You don't want to be here.

Not in this overpriced, dimly lit restaurant. Not sitting across from your best friend who, for all intents and purposes, should be yours but isn't. Not watching him share a plate of something too delicate, too refined, with someone who doesn’t know him the way you do.

You shouldn't be here, but you are. Because Max asked, and you’ve never been able to say no to him.

His girlfriend, the word itself sticks in your throat like it doesn’t belong there, sits beside him her hand curled possessively around his arm like it’s an accessory.

She's beautiful in that effortless way that makes it impossible to hate her, but easy to envy and you do, not because she's done anything wrong, but because she has him and you don’t. She’s the kind of girl who wears white to brunch and never spills anything. Who smiles with her teeth but never with her eyes. She laughs at all the right moments, smiles like she’s being watched, and you suppose she probably always is.

She tells people he’s different with her, like it’s some accomplishment, like she’s smoothed out all the parts of him that used to be real. And maybe that’s what she wants, a version of Max that’s easier to manage. More polished. Less... passionate.

And maybe he needs that. Maybe it’s easier to be loved when no one sees the cracks.

But you do.

And you love him anyway.

"You're quiet tonight."

Max's voice breaks through the fog of your thoughts, dragging you back into the present. His blue eyes flick to yours, brow furrowed. You know that look. Concern. Like he always gets when you're not yourself. Like he doesn't realise he’s the reason why.

"I'm fine," you lie, forcing a smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes. "Just tired."

His girlfriend, her name, why does her name escape you? Leans in, pressing a kiss to his cheek, whispering something you can’t hear. Max laughs, low and affectionate, and it splinters something inside you.

You force your attention back to your plate, pushing the delicate food around with your fork, though you have no appetite for it. Each bite seems tasteless, it’s not the kind of meal you’re used to. You’d much rather be somewhere familiar, somewhere real, where the food is greasy and the air is thick with laughter, the kind of places where Max talks with his hands and lets himself forget who he has to be.

But tonight, he’s wearing someone else’s life. And you’re just the spectator.

Max's laughter, though, it’s still real. It’s just harder to swallow now, harder to accept, because it’s not for you. Not tonight.

Then he leans in closer than necessary, voice dropping again, warm and soothing, bringing you back to the present. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Your heart stutters for a beat. The question, the tone it’s always the same. Always concerned. Always directed at you. But never for you. You’ve learned to ignore the quiet ache that blossoms each time, because it’s pointless.

"I'm fine," you repeat, this time with more conviction. The smile feels less forced but still unnatural. "I promise."

His eyes linger on you like it’s a habit he can’t break, and you can tell he’s not buying it. His gaze flicks briefly to his girlfriend, who is now chatting animatedly with the waiter about some wine pairing, before he leans in, close enough that only you can hear.

"Are you sure? You know you can talk to me right?"

That damn sweetness in his voice. That quiet tenderness he saves just for you, like a secret between the two of you, a secret you’re not sure you can keep much longer. His girlfriend is only a few inches away, but the distance between you and Max has never felt more cavernous.

You swallow, unable to look at him, because if you do, you might say something you can’t take back. Something that would shatter the delicate balance you’ve managed to maintain.

You want to tell him that you're not fine. That you haven’t been for a long time. But you can’t. You just can't.

Instead, you nod, your throat tightening, unable to force the words past your lips. He doesn’t need to know. Not now. Not when it could ruin everything.

Later that night when you’re alone in your apartment, you do what you swore you wouldn’t.

You scroll through old photos, ones where it was just you and Max, before… before everything became complicated. Late-night drives through Monaco, your legs propped up on his dashboard. His arm around you after a race, champagne still clinging to his skin. The way he looked at you, like you were his whole world.

And maybe you were.

Maybe, for a time, he was yours too.

You miss him. Not the version of him you get now, careful and distant, but the Max who used to call you at 3 a.m. just to talk. The Max who used to sit on your bathroom counter while you took off your makeup, who would trace patterns into your wrist absentmindedly as you talked about the future.

That version of Max doesn’t exist anymore.

Or maybe he does. Maybe he’s just buried under the weight of a relationship that isn’t meant for him.

She’s the safe choice. The quiet, easy path. She’ll never demand the real version of him, but she’s there and for now that’s enough for him.

Your fingers hover over his name in your phone, heart hammering in your chest. You shouldn’t call.

But you want to.

Call me when you break up.

The words sit on the tip of your tongue, but you swallow them down.

Instead, you type a message you’ll never send.

We’re so meant for each other, when will you wake up?

You read the words, and the weight of them sinks deep in your chest. But you delete them immediately. They’re too raw. Too desperate. Too honest.

With a shaky breath, you shut off your phone, the screen fading to black.

The thing about being in love with Max Verstappen is that you never really stop waiting.

You wait for him to see you. Wait for him to realise what you've always known. Wait for the moment when he’ll turn to you and say, it was always you.

But waiting is exhausting.

And you're tired of feeling like an afterthought.

So you do what any rational, heartbroken person would. You try to forget.

You let strangers buy you drinks, let them whisper sweet nothings into your ear, let them kiss you in the dark corners of bars where no one knows your name. You chase distractions, hoping that one of them will make you feel something, anything, other than the ache of missing him.

But they never do.

Because none of them are Max.

And maybe that’s why when your phone rings one night, his name flashing across the screen, you still answer without hesitation. Because this isn’t the first time. It’s become a pattern. A quiet, painful ritual. A fight with her. A call to you.

"Hey."

He sounds off. Tired. Worn down in a way you’ve never heard before.

"Can I come over?"

Your pulse spikes. "Max—"

"I just… I don’t want to be alone right now."

The unspoken words hang between you.

I don’t want to be with her right now.

You exhale shakily. "Yeah. Of course."

Twenty minutes later, the doorbell rings, cutting through the silence that had settled over your apartment like a heavy fog. You stand frozen for a moment, uncertainty crawling up your spine, before you force your legs to move.

He looks wrecked. Like he hasn't slept in days. He doesn't say anything at first, just steps inside, closing the distance between you in a way that makes your breath catch.

"Did something happen?" you ask softly.

Max shakes his head, exhaling sharply. "I just needed to see you."

The space between you closes with a speed that makes your pulse skip. It’s like he’s always known the exact way to find you, to make everything else fade away, to pull you back in like you’re a magnet and he’s the force that won’t let you escape.

His eyes search yours, and it’s in that moment you realise he knows.

He knows he's with the wrong person.

He knows that no matter how much he tries to pretend, it’s always been you.

But knowing something and choosing it are two entirely different things.

And you’re tired. Tired of waiting for him to make the right choice. Tired of standing here, always second. Always the backup when things aren’t perfect in his world.

So you step back, putting space between you that feels like a chasm.

"You can’t do this," you whisper. "You can't just run to me when things go wrong with her. It’s not fair."

His jaw tightens at your words, the muscle in his cheek twitching, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he looks down, taking a long breath, his chest rising and falling with the weight of something unspoken. You can see the frustration, the guilt in the way his shoulders tense, but it doesn’t change anything.

"I—"

"You love me Max." Your throat tightens, interrupting him before he can pull you in, and you hate the way your voice cracks on the last word, but you don’t care. "I know you do."

Silence.

Painful, suffocating silence.

But then—

"I do." His voice is raw, like the words are being torn from him. "I do love you."

Your breath stutters. "Then why are you still with her?"

Max opens his mouth to respond, but the words die on his lips. His eyes dart away from yours, like he’s trying to find the right thing to say but can’t. He clenches his fists at his sides, and the tension in his body is palpable. "I... I don’t know," he mutters, voice thick. "I don’t know what I’m supposed to do."

"You’re supposed to choose Max!" Your voice cracks, the frustration bubbling over.

He opens his mouth again, but the words won't come. You watch him struggle, like he’s stuck in a loop of his own making. "I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to hurt you," he says, regret creeping in.

"But you have," you say, your voice steady but filled with everything you’ve been holding in. "You have hurt me Max. And you don’t get to keep doing that and expect me to just be here when you feel like it."

Max takes a step toward you, but you shake your head, stepping back. "No," you whisper, shaking your head. "You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to have me when it’s convenient for you. You either choose me, or you don’t."

Max opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. Because there’s no excuse. No reason good enough.

Just fear.

Of change. Of consequences. Of finally choosing what’s real over what’s easy.

And you? You’re done waiting for him to be brave.

So you smile, even though it hurts. Even though your heart is shattering.

"Call me when you break up."

Then you shut the door.

look me in the eye | pt.3

pairing: max verstappen x rbr!engineer!reader

summary: the rb21 is unfixable-the whole world knows that, now-but you've become so much more than just his engineer and they should know that too.

a/n: i just...max verstappen...and thank you guys sm for the love you've shown this series! here is the last part <3

part one / part two / part three

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

The moment you step out of the storage room-you figured that out when Max shoved you against a nice metal rack and some probably important things crashed to the ground-reality crashes down on you like a tidal wave.

You just kissed Max Verstappen.

Max Verstappen just kissed you.

You don't know how it can get worse, but it will. He looks completely at ease, like he didn't just change the trajectory of your entire life in the span of a few heated seconds. Meanwhile, you feel like you're about to combust. Your lips are still tingling, your mind racing, and you’re suddenly hyperaware of the noise outside: the team is still celebrating, the media is still circling, and maybe you're being a little dramatic but people will want answers that you can't give.

Max notices your panic before you can even say anything. He leans in slightly, lowering his voice. "Breathe."

You shoot him a glare that lacks any real venom. "Don't tell me what to do."

His lips twitch. "Then don't look like you’re about to pass out." Which is ironic, because if he hadn't kissed you senseless, you probably wouldn't look like...whatever you look like right now. You need a mirror. Your hair is all messed up from the frenzy-his is too, though it suits his post-race look-and you straighten the collar of your shirt.

Damn you. You shove past him, desperate for space, for air, for something that isn't Max Verstappen and his infuriating ability to act like everything is fine. Your body betrays you, though, because even as you move, you feel his warmth lingering, his presence like a gravitational pull you can’t escape.

And then, as if the universe is determined to make your life a nightmare, Christian Horner appears. The devil himself.

You barely manage to school your expression into something neutral as he approaches, eyes sharp, mouth set in a line that promises nothing good.

"Max." He nods at Red Bull's star driver before turning to you. "We need to talk."

Max doesn't move. "She's busy," he quips.

You whip your head toward him, eyes wide. "Max."

Christian doesn't look amused. "Now."

You sigh, throwing Max one last look before following Christian into one of the back offices. The second the door closes, he lets out a heavy breath and pinches the bridge of his nose like he's trying to will away a migraine.

"You know why we're here."

You cross your arms, steeling yourself. "If this is about that stupid interview-"

"Stupid?" Christian cuts you off and his eyes narrow quickly. "Do you have any idea what you just walked into? The media is losing it. The fans are in a frenzy. And now I have PR breathing down my neck asking if Max Verstappen is in a relationship with one of his engineers."

This isn't good. No, not at all. Today is not a good day to have Christian Horner mad at you. "It's not-"

"It doesn't matter what it is," Christian interrupts. "Believe me. The only thing I care about is what it looks like."

You don't have an argument for that. Because he's right. Perception is everything in this sport, and right now, the perception is that you are tangled up in something that no team principal wants to deal with.

Christian sighs and it's like all his fury is evaporating. "Look. I really don't care what you do in your personal life. I don't even care what Max does, as long as he keeps winning. But I need to know if this is going to be a problem."

You hesitate. "Define 'a problem.'"

Christian levels you with a look. "Are you going to be a distraction? To him? To yourself?"

Your mind flashes back to the kiss, to the way Max looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered in that moment. Your heart stutters.

"No," you say, more firmly than you feel. "This doesn't affect my work."

Christian watches you for a long moment, then nods. "Good. Then handle it."

You swallow. "Handle it?"

"Either shut it down or control the narrative," he says. "But I don't want any more surprises."

You nod, even though you don't know what exactly you're affirming with that nod. The problem is, you don't know if you can shut it down. You don't know if you even want to.

When you leave the office, Max is leaning against the wall, waiting. Of course he is.

He leaps up when he sees you. "What did he say?"

"That I need to handle it," you explain.

Max’s expression doesn’t change. "And are you going to?

"I don’t know."

There it is again. You can't read Max Verstappen. He asks, "Do you want me to?"

All your problems come from the same thing-you should say yes, no, whatever it takes to shut down all this that's happening. You should make him go on some press circuit and laugh it off as a misunderstanding, to make sure your name isn't attached to his ever again. You should be walking away from this mess because it's not part of your job description and getting involved with an athlete never seems to end well. Even if it's Max Verstappen.

But you don't.

You never do, it seems.

Instead, you look at him: the way his jaw is clenched, the way his fingers twitch like he wants to reach for you but won't unless you let him, and you keep making the same choice.

"I think," you say carefully, "we should talk."

Max’s lips curve slightly. "Dinner?"

You groan, shoving his shoulder. "Not helping."

His laugh is soft, but there's something else in his eyes now. Something serious. "Then let’s talk."

It's been a long time coming, but right there, you realize you're past the point of no return.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

The ride back to the hotel is suffocating. Not the air-no, the air-conditioning in Max's car is great, thankfully, because it sure cost a lot-but because Max is sitting next to you, silent, his fingers drumming against his thigh so close to you if he shifts just a little his hands will be on yours. You push that thought aside. Now's not a good time to get worked up over him. Not now.

You should say something. You should clear the air. But every time you open your mouth, nothing comes out. Instead, you replay everything in your head: the kiss, the way he looked at you after, Christian's warning, and the way Max had asked if you wanted him to handle it. Like it was his responsibility. Like he was willing to do whatever you asked, even if it meant pretending none of this ever happened.

The thought unsettles you more than it should.

"You're thinking too much."

You blink, snapping out of your spiral. Max is watching you instead of the road. Stupid, stupid.

You roll your eyes. "And you’re not thinking at all."

He smirks, eyes darting back forward for a moment before they rest on your face. "That’s not true. I'm thinking about dinner."

"Max, this isn't a joke." You let out a frustrated sigh, turning to face him.

"I know." He's suddenly serious, his voice quieter. "That's why we should talk. Properly. Without Christian breathing down your neck."

You hesitate. You know he's right. You can't keep avoiding this, can't pretend that what happened in the storage room didn't just flip your world upside down. But you also don't know how to have this conversation without risking everything.

Max waits patiently, letting you come to your own conclusion. He always does that. He gives you space, but never too much. Always just enough to make sure you don’t run.

"Fine," you mutter. "But not dinner. We saw how that went."

He raises a brow. "Drinks?"

"No."

"A walk, then."

You sigh, but you don't argue. You suppose a walk is neutral territory. You can talk without the pressure of sitting across from him at a table, without the weight of eye contact that lasts too long.

When you arrive at the hotel, you don't give yourself time to hesitate. You step out, waiting for him, and he follows without question after tossing his keys at the valet. There's a cool breeze, and you focus on that instead of the way your fingers still tingle from where they brushed against Max's earlier.

You walk side by side, the silence stretching, but it isn't uncomfortable. It never is. That’s part of the problem, isn't it? It's always been too easy with him.

"I meant what I said," Max finally says. "I don't want this to be a problem for you."

"It's not that simple, Max."

"It could be."

You huff out a short laugh. "For you, maybe."

He stops walking, and you do too, turning to face him. There's something in his expression that makes your breath catch.

"I like you," he says, and your heart stutters. "And I think you like me too."

You swallow hard. "Max-"

"I know it's complicated. I know Christian is watching us like a hawk. I know you're worried about your job, your reputation." His voice is steady, unwavering. "But I'm not going to pretend this isn't happening just because it's inconvenient."

Your mouth feels dry. It does sound simple when he's saying it.

"Tell me to stop. Tell me this is nothing, and I'll walk away."

You hate him for that. Hate him for putting the choice in your hands, for making you responsible for whatever happens next.

But you don't tell him to stop. You don't say anything at all. You look at him clearly: this man you've watched grow up from a boy. You've seen him destroy things in fits of rage after bad races, you've seen him beam like the sun, and you've seen the way his eyes turn stormy oceans when they look at you. He sees you too.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

bahrain 2025 post-race interview

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

y/n 🌎 gee, max, you're going to get to my ego

y/n 🌎 first "my everything," then "the constant"

y/n 🌎 and what's that about always? i don't believe that.

my mashed potato Are you referring to us or you being the constant? Because I don't believe in that either, but you have me as long as you want

y/n 🌎 are you SERIOUSLY CHECKING YOUR PHONE DURING AN INTERVIEW

y/n 🌎 sorry for all caps i just like it a lot when you get all romantic

my mashed potato i know ❤️

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

a/n: max verstappen and 3-post series are very special to me

Stuck With You || Chapter 2

Warnings: abuse, trauma, lost of parents. very sensitive topics here in this story.

Wordcount; 1k652

Summary: a nice dinner and a little back story 

Story inspired by @sunsoothed​, credits to her for some the scenes and inspiration. Please read her fic ‘after the rain’ which has inspired this story

Chapters: 1 - 2

________________________

“what?” 

Keep reading

secrets are no fun (unless shared with everyone)

smau + real life

lewis hamilton x !sister reader

hamilton reader x max verstappen

ayana hamilton, the younger sister of seven-time world champion lewis hamilton, has seemingly achieved everything she could ever desire— a successful career as a music producer and artist, been all around the world, has a supportive family and a loving husband—however, that’s a secret that no one, not even her brother, knows about—her husband is also an f1 driver. lewis has always made it his mission to prevent ayana from dating a driver— but is it technically considered dating if they are married? ;)

fc: tyla ! 🌸

(sza will be used as ayana’s best friend so when i say solana— our queen miss sza)

thank you to @babygirl-4986 for the idea for this series and i am so excited to write for you guys :)

—

vegas grand prix 2024

mercedes 1-2– as a little sister I am beaming with excitement for lewis but a part of me is wondering where max is after getting p5. i knew how hard he could be on himself sometimes. he was still leading the championship but it seemed as if that wasn’t enough sometimes. i stood in the crowd next to my best friend, solana, she was the only one who knew about max and i, she had been with me through everything. i have actually been trying to set her up with lewis for the longest time— they are both oblivious to my actions but maybe one day it would work. i took out my phone to start recording as george walked out first, i began cheering for him and waved to him— he smiled down and waved back. lewis came out next with a proud smile on his face and I cheered extra loud and solana blew him a kiss in which he returned and he waved at me. the british national anthem began and before you knew it there was champagne all over the place. i grabbed solana’s hand and we made our way through the huge crowd, stopping to take some photos with fans. as we made it through the crowd, i reached for my phone to text max.

how are you doing my love? where are uuu?

I slipped my phone into my back pocket as Lewis approached us. I reached out and wrapped my arms around him and he gave me a squeeze. He pressed a gentle kiss on my temple.

“I’m so proud of you, Lew. Always. You did amazing out there.” I said and he let go of me with a smile.

“I always do better when my wonderful sister is here to cheer me on..and her beautiful best friend.” He states and turned to Solana pulling her into a big hug, a light blush settling on her face.

“And what are you lovely ladies up to for the rest of the night?” Lewis asked and Solana shrugs my way.

“Honestly, not sure.” She said and Lewis smiled.

“How about some drinks?” He asked as I reached for my phone.

doing ok, schat. would be better if I could see that beautiful face.

“You guys go, have fun. I’ll catch up later, I just have some business to handle.” I said with a smile and Solana gave me a knowing look.

“Alright, see you later, be safe please.” Lewis said with a quick side hug.

“Of course, love you guys.” I said and sent them both a smile.

meet me in the lot in five angel

on my way pretty girl

I started walking to his car rather quickly, thankfully fans could not get in this area so we were able to be alone for a moment. I leaned against the sleek black SUV, the cool desert night brushing against my skin. I spotted Max a few feet away, dressed down in a black hoodie and some jeans. He approached me with a small smile, wrapping his arms around my waist, mine reaching around his neck.

“I swear every time I see you all my problems just fade, schat. Your beauty makes me forget everything.” He hummed with a love drunk smile upon his face.

“I feel the same way about you, my love.” I say pulling him into a soft kiss that lasted for a few moments.

“Marry me.” He murmured. I pulled back, stunned, slightly in shock.

“What did you say? Max are you drunk?” I ask and he chuckled slightly.

“No, Liefde. Let’s get married, right here, right now.” He stated again and I smiled at him.

“Let’s get you to the hospital. Did you hit your head getting out of the car?” I ask and he takes my hand.

“Mooi meisje, just listen to me. You are the one for me, I have known that since you walked into my life. Everyday I look forward to getting up to be with you and spend the day with you. Normally with a P5 result, I’d be sitting, sulking and thinking about what I could have done better but today I didn’t care— I don’t need to race— I don’t need the championships but I do need you— you’re the love of my life, yana.” He stated and I feel tears start to well in my eyes.

“Max, I-I love you so much. I need you.” I said wrapping my arms around him extra tight, I feel him squeeze my waist.

“So marry me, Yana. You’ll have me forever.” He whispered.

“Okay, let’s do it.” I said with a huge smile and Max lifted me up in the air. He pressed the biggest kiss to my lips. He pulled a small red box out of his sweatshirt and popped it open. I gasped slightly at the beautiful ring and he took the ring out gently and reached for my hand. He left a kiss across my knuckles and gently slid the ring onto my finger. It was absolutely stunning— everything I could’ve wanted in a ring.

“I know this isn’t the most ideal place for this but I could marry you while standing inside of a dumpster and I would still be overjoyed and we can always have a ceremony later-“ I interrupted his rambling by placing my hand on his cheek.

“Max— this is perfect. I don’t care how it happens as long as I get to spend forever with you.” I said and he smiled.

“Now let’s go get married, champion.” I teased and he hurriedly opened the car door for me and rushed to the drivers side.

—

I had changed into one of Max’s hoodies and put on a hat and some larger frame sunglasses. Everyone in the city is either drunk or too distracted from the race but it’s best to be safe. Max had pulled his hoodie over his head and also threw some sunglasses on. He held my hand and looked over at me.

“You really sure about this, Verstappen?” I teased lightly biting my lip.

“I’ve never been more sure about anything, schat.” He said rubbing my knuckles.

“Let’s go then.” I said and hopped out of the car. He came around and wrapped his arm around my waist as we made it inside the chapel. The neon lights flickering above us. It smelled faintly of roses and old wood. The lady at the desk shot us a quick smile.

“Here to get hitched, lovebirds?” She asked as she stood. We stared at each other for a second before nodding.

“Come with me.” She states and led us into the actual chapel. There was a man stood at the end of the short aisle who gave us a sweet smile.

“Mind if we trade your hat out for this?” The lady asked and offered me a veil, I look towards max and he nodded with a smile.

“I think we can do that.” I said and took off my hat and she helped fit the veil into my hair. Max smiled at me and took my hands into his.

“I suppose we are ready now.” The officiant said with a big smile.

“Names?” He asked.

“Ayana Hamilton.” I said and he nodded looking towards Max.

“Max. Max Verstappen.” He nodded and smiled to himself.

“Do you, Ayana Hamilton, take Max Verstappen to be your lawfully wedded husband?” He asked and I nodded.

“I do.”

“And do you, Max Verstappen, take Ayana Hamilton to be your lawfully wedded wife?” He asked.

His eyes never left mine. “I do.”

“By the power vested in me, in the state of Nevada, I now pronounce you both husband and wife. Max, you may kiss your bride.” He said with a smile and Max grabbed my waist and pulled me into a long passionate kiss. It wasn’t rushed, it wasn’t hungry, it was soft and sweet.

We stumbled out of the chapel laughing, my hand wrapped tight in his. The Vegas Strip roared around us, but in that moment, it felt like the world had gone silent.

“You realize Lewis is going to kill me when he finds out, right?” Max said, chuckling as he pulled me into his arms.

I grinned, resting my forehead against his chest. “Maybe. But you’ll survive. You’re a world champion, remember?”

He tilted my chin up, kissing me again like he had something to prove. “Now I’m the champion of something even better.”

—

present day / max and ayana’s apartment

The late afternoon sun poured through the windows of our Monaco apartment, casting a warm, golden glow over the hardwood floors. I sat cross-legged on the bed, half-folded clothes scattered around me in a chaotic mess. Max leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching me with an amused smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“You’re packing like we’re moving across the world, not like you’re just spending four days with Lewis,” he teased, nodding toward the three overstuffed suitcases.

I tossed a hoodie at him. “It’s not just four days. It’s Lewis. You know how he is — there will be fancy dinners, training sessions, impromptu yacht trips. I have to be prepared for anything.”

Max caught the hoodie with one hand, laughing. He crossed the room in a few steps and sat down beside me, plucking a pair of sunglasses from my pile and perching them on my head. “You’re gonna miss me,” he said, mock-sulking.

I looked at him over the rim of the sunglasses. “Of course I’m gonna miss you,” I said, pushing them up into my hair. “Who else is going to steal my snacks and hog the blanket at 3 AM?”

He chuckled, reaching out to tuck a loose curl behind my ear. “You know you could just stay,” he murmured, teasing but a little serious too.

I leaned into his touch for a second, then grinned. “If I cancel on Lewis now, he’ll definitely figure out we’ve been married for a year and didn’t tell him.”

Max groaned dramatically, flopping backward onto the bed. “Still can’t believe we’ve kept it a secret this long. You’re a terrible liar, Ayana.”

“And yet, here we are,” I said proudly, zipping one of the suitcases shut.

He reached out and grabbed my hand, tugging me down onto the bed beside him. I landed with a soft laugh, my hair spilling across his chest. He looked down at me, blue eyes soft, thumb tracing lazy circles over the back of my hand.

“I’m proud of you, you know,” he said quietly. “For everything — the tour, the music, surviving this crazy world… and for still picking me.”

My chest squeezed a little at the tenderness in his voice. “Always you, Max.”

—

After I finally managed to wrestle the last suitcase shut, Max stood and stretched, looking all too innocent. Too casual.

I narrowed my eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” he said, way too quickly.

Suspicious.

But I let it go. For now. I tugged my duffel bag onto the bed, double-checking I had my headphones, my laptop, my chargers — the essentials. Max wandered over, slipping his arms around my waist from behind and resting his chin on my shoulder.

“Promise you’ll call me every night?” he said, voice dropping to that soft, boyish tone he only ever used with me.

I smiled, resting my hands on his. “You act like I’m going away for a year, not four days.”

“Still too long,” he mumbled.

I twisted around and kissed him quickly. “I’ll call. Pinky swear.”

He grinned against my mouth, stealing one more kiss before finally letting me go. I grabbed my bag and headed for the door, tossing a “Love you!” over my shoulder.

Max winked. “Love you more.”

—

later that night

Lewis, Solana and I had just arrived at the Beach House. I was always insistent on unpacking as soon as we get to the destination. No— before you ask; I am not sure if Solana and Lewis are together. I invited her on this quick trip and Lewis is always willing to have her.

I was digging through my duffel bag, looking for my spare phone charger when my fingers brushed against something unfamiliar.

Frowning, I pulled it out — a small, folded piece of paper with Max’s handwriting scribbled across it.

“For when you miss me too much.”

Taped to it was one of his racing gloves — the very one he wore during the Vegas GP last year, the night we got married.

My throat tightened, emotions bubbling up too fast. Inside the note, he’d written:

“You’re my best win. Always have been, always will be. Come home soon, Mrs. Verstappen.”

I clutched the glove to my chest, a wide, stupid grin breaking across my face.

“Yana-“ Lewis said as he entered the room and I quickly tucked the glove in my suitcase.

“What’s up?” I turned around with a smile.

He gave me a confused but big smile.

“They have dinner prepared for us on the beach, whenever you’re ready.” He said and I nodded.

“I’m just going to get changed and I’ll be out.” I said and he nodded.

“Thank you, Lew. For the trip.” I said and he reached out for a hug.

“Of course, no one else I’d rather have with me.” He said and left the room.

I pulled out my phone and sent a quick text.

got your surprise, mr verstappen. you made me cry. i miss you and love you so much.

you’ll be back in no time, my beautiful wife. enjoy your time with your brother. call me when you can, schat. i love you even more

I smiled and plugged my phone in. I quickly changed into a sundress and slipped on some sandals. I added a few pieces of jewelry and left the room. Lewis was standing behind the counter in the kitchen as Solana stood across the counter from him as she was showing him tik toks— he finally got the app he just doesn’t understand the humor yet.

“Showing Gramps how to use Tik Tok?” I questioned with a smirk and they both smiled at me.

“Mmm girl you look so good..” Solana reached out her hand and spun me around.

“So do you, my love.” I said and she smiled.

“Well beautiful ladies, shall we?” Lewis asked motioning towards the beach.

“We shall.” Solana said and we all started walking towards the beach.

—

next day

I was sat out on the balcony, having my morning call with Max.

“How are Jimmy and Sassy?” I ask and he smiles before pointing the camera at the two cats who are snuggled together.

“Precious babies.” I murmured with a smile.

“They get it from their mother.” Max said and I chucked.

“Unfortunately I do have a meeting and some training to do so I have to go but enjoy your day and I will talk to you tonight, okay? I love you so much.” Max said and I smiled giving him a small wave.

“Love you more.” I said ending the FaceTime.

“Good morning, Mrs. Verstappen.” Solana joked as she pulled open the sliding door and handed me a juice.

“Not too loud now.” I said and chuckled.

“You both are so cute it makes me sick.” She said taking a seat next to me.

“I appreciate it and I appreciate you helping to keep it on the low. You are like one of the only people I can trust.” I state leaning into her shoulder. She leaned her head on top of mine.

“I always got you, boo. Forever.” She says with a smile.

—

The sun was sinking low over the water, casting a soft orange glow across the beach. I lay sprawled out on a lounge chair, toes buried in the warm sand, a half-finished book resting on my chest. Roscoe was asleep in the sand beside me, head resting on my leg

Lewis plopped down beside me with his usual lack of grace, sending a small spray of sand and water onto my towel.

“Nice, Lew,” I said, brushing it off and giving him a look.

He grinned like a kid caught sneaking cookies before dinner. “You needed a little excitement. You’ve been way too chill lately.”

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t hide my smile. “Maybe I’m finally learning to relax.”

“Doubt it,” he teased, stretching out beside me. “But hey, you have been different lately. Happier. Calmer. It’s good.”

I glanced at him over my sunglasses. “You saying I was a nightmare before?”

He laughed, tossing a grape up into the air and catching it in his mouth. “Not a nightmare. Just…intense. Always working, always moving. It’s nice to see you actually taking time for yourself.”

I tucked my arms behind my head, feeling the warm breeze drift over us. Lewis had a point — for once. Things with Max had changed me in ways I hadn’t even realized until now. But Lewis, blissfully unaware, just thought I was finally taking better care of myself.

“Guess I just figured out what matters,” I said lightly, smiling at the horizon.

Lewis nodded, not prying for once. “Whatever it is, keep it up. You deserve to be happy, Yana.”

He nudged my foot with his. “Also, when are you dropping that new album? You’ve been teasing it for months.”

I laughed. “Soon. You’ll get the first copy. I might even sign it for you, if you’re lucky.”

He gave me a dramatic bow from his lounge chair. “An honor, Miss Hamilton.”

We both cracked up, the easy, familiar laughter filling the air like it always had when we were kids. No pressure. No cameras. Just a brother and a sister, a beach, and the feeling that everything — at least for today — was exactly how it was supposed to be.

—

tonight was a big reason we are on this trip— Lewis, Solana and I were going to make a few drinks at a local bar in the middle of the city to promote his new non alcoholic tequila brand.

The tiny bar was packed, the air buzzing with laughter, music, and the clink of glasses. Fairy lights strung up across the ceiling gave the whole place a warm, golden glow. Somewhere in the back, a DJ was spinning laid-back tracks, and every table was decorated with little cards featuring Almave — Lewis’ new tequila brand.

“Alright, team,” Lewis said, clapping his hands behind the bar like we were about to run a full Michelin-star service. “We’ve got three goals tonight: pour good drinks, have fun, and make my tequila look like the greatest thing to ever happen to planet Earth.”

I laughed, tying an apron around my waist. “You’re lucky Sol and I love you, because this is not what I thought I’d be doing on vacation.”

Solana leaned over the bar with a wink. “Girl, we are the party. Plus, free drinks.”

Lewis threw an arm around each of us, grinning wide. “Exactly. The dream team.”

We got to work, pouring shots, shaking cocktails, and posing for selfies with fans who couldn’t believe Lewis Hamilton, Ayana and SZA were bartending in a random coastal bar. Every so often, Lewis would dramatically present a bottle of his tequila with both hands like it was a sacred relic.

“Only the finest!” he announced to a group of guys at the bar, pouring them shots with a flourish.

Meanwhile, Solana mixed up a custom cocktail she invented on the spot — something fruity and spicy — and by the second round, she had people lining up to try it.

I handled the crowd like a pro, sliding drinks down the bar, laughing when one almost toppled off the edge. “First one’s free if you can catch it!” I called, making the bar explode in cheers.

Every few minutes, Lewis would bump his shoulder into mine, and Sol would lean over to crack a joke, and it felt… normal. No paparazzi, no pressure. Just us, doing something wild and silly because we could.

At one point, Lewis grabbed the mic by the DJ booth. “Big thanks to everyone for coming out tonight! And remember,” he said, holding up a glass, “life’s too short to drink bad tequila. Cheers!”

The whole bar roared back in a toast, and we clinked glasses behind the counter, grinning like idiots.

Later, as the crowd started to thin and the neon signs flickered a little softer, Solana leaned her head on my shoulder and sighed happily.

“Tell me why this is one of the best nights I’ve had in forever,” she said.

I smiled, wiping down the bar. “Because it’s not about the tequila. It’s about us.”

Lewis slung an arm around both of us again, his face flushed from laughing so much. “Nah, it’s definitely the tequila,” he said with a wink.

And for the first time in a long while, I realized just how lucky we were — messy, chaotic, ridiculous — but lucky all the same.

—

f1gossipgirls posted!

25,368 likes

f1gossipgirls : Lewis Hamilton, Ayana Hamilton and SZA all spotted bartending at a small bar in Riviera Maya, Mexico to promote his new tequila brand— Almave!

—

username : omg all my faves

username2 : love them so much— having fomo rn

username5 : the Hamilton genes are so strong

username7 : they are so beautiful fr

username9 : sza is toooo

username7 : true true

username8 : my brother met them last night and said they are all so sweet— he said Ayana gave him like 5 free drinks for him and his friends lmao😭

liked by author

username10 : omg so jealous

usernameee : just a question but why is sza with them??

f1gossipgirls : she has been a good friend of ayana for years and her and lewis have been linked multiple times

—

texts !

saw some videos of you bartending

you are so hot

come home now please

be home tomorrow pretty boy

don’t get too excited without me

—

ayanaaa

riviera maya, mexico 📍

liked by sza, lewishamilton, scuderiaferrari & 4,357,975 others.

ayanaaa : thankful for lew, sol, roscoe, mexico and almave

tagged : lewishamilton, roscoelovescoco, sza, almave

—

roscoelovescoco : loves yous aunt yayas!!

liked by author

ayanaaa: love my roscoe<3

username : lewis calling her aunt yaya is so cute

sza : the best time with my best fransssss🌎🍃🌱🌊💙

liked by author

ayanaaa : love ya my sollll

lewishamilton : so glad you came — love you sis ❤️

liked by author

ayanaaa : love you more

scuderiaferrari : our faves 😻😻

liked by author

ayanaaa : ferrariiii my love — season passes for Miss Solana?

scuderiaferrari: absolutely! you are both welcome always 💋

liked by author and sza

carmenmmundt : you are so beautiful ayana. i miss you so much!

liked by author

ayanaaa : miss you more carms

alexandrasaintmleux: 😻😻😻😻

liked by author

—

The front door clicked softly behind me as I stepped inside, the familiar scent of cedarwood and fresh linen wrapping around me like a hug. My suitcase thudded quietly on the floor, but before I could even call out, I heard footsteps — quick, eager — from the hallway.

Max appeared, barefoot and in sweatpants, hair messy like he’d just rolled out of bed even though it was early evening. His whole face lit up the second he saw me, and the ache of missing him hit me all at once.

“You’re home,” he said, voice low and full of relief.

I barely had time to nod before he crossed the room in three quick strides, sweeping me into his arms. I dropped my bag and wrapped myself around him, breathing him in — the faint scent of his cologne, the comfort of home.

“I missed you,” I mumbled into his shoulder.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his blue eyes so soft it made my chest tighten. “You have no idea how much.”

He kissed me — slow, lingering, like he was making up for every second we’d been apart. I melted into him, smiling against his mouth.

When we finally broke apart, he brushed a strand of hair behind my ear and whispered, “No more trips without me.”

I laughed, trailing my fingers lightly over his jaw. “Tell that to my brother next time he drags me on a ‘bonding adventure.’”

Max chuckled, pressing another kiss to my forehead. “Deal. Next time, I’ll just come with you. Hide in your suitcase if I have to.”

He reached for my duffel, slinging it effortlessly over his shoulder with one hand and threading our fingers together with the other.

“Come on,” he said, tugging me toward the living room. “I made your favorite — pizza and that terrible show you love.”

“My terrible show is a masterpiece,” I corrected with a grin.

“Right, right,” he said, squeezing my hand. “Masterpiece.”

We curled up together on the couch, my legs thrown over his lap, his arm tucked firmly around my waist like he couldn’t bear to let go. The TV played in the background, but all I could focus on was the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under my cheek.

—

p1 of this series complete! let me know what yall think and any suggestions for the next part and as always requests are always open! 💋

Rolling, Rolling, Red Bull

Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader

Summary… When the Drive to Survive crew shows up to film a behind-the-scenes look at Max Verstappen’s life off track, Y/N is less than thrilled to be in the spotlight. But between sarcastic interviews, soft domestic moments, and a now-viral deleted scene involving a jar of pesto, the world gets a glimpse of a Max they’ve never seen before. Boyfriend-coded. Cat-dad certified. And very, very soft for her.

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy! I’ve been kinda M.I.A. & irregular on my posting but I have been out of town for the last two week so I’ve been writing on my phone and it has been a little difficult.

I hope you guys enjoy this story and feel free to donate on my Ko-Fi, maybe that way I can buy a better computer and write more consistently for you guys.

like, comment, reblog, enjoy (:

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Y/N was halfway through brushing her teeth when Max knocked on the bathroom door.

“They’re here,” he said, muffled through the wood. “The Drive to Survive guys.”

She spat into the sink. “Tell them to come back never.”

Max laughed, leaning against the doorframe in joggers and a Red Bull hoodie, his hair still wet from the shower. “You said yes last night.”

“I was half-asleep and you bribed me with stroopwafels.”

He pushed the door open and gave her the most annoyingly charming grin. “And yet, here we are.”

⸻

The Netflix crew had set up in their living room, pretending the chaos of wires and camera angles was “low-key.” Max greeted them like old friends, casual and cool, while Y/N hovered awkwardly behind a kitchen stool, holding her coffee like a shield.

“Just pretend we’re not here,” the producer said, adjusting his headset.

“Impossible,” she muttered.

Max, ever the calm in the storm, slipped a hand around her waist. “You’ll be fine. Just be yourself.”

“That is the problem.”

⸻

They followed the couple through a normal day: breakfast on the balcony, Max fiddling with a simulator, Y/N curled up reading a book while their cats tried to chew on a mic cord.

But then they asked for a sit-down interview.

“Can you two just talk about what it’s like being in a relationship during the season?” the director asked, arranging pillows behind Y/N like this was a cozy podcast and not her personal nightmare.

Max shrugged. “It’s good. We don’t really fight.”

Y/N snorted. “You say that because you don’t consider ignoring my texts for six hours a fight.”

“I was driving,” he said, deadpan.

“You were on the simulator.”

“Same thing.”

The crew laughed. Max smiled sideways at her.

Then the director leaned in. “Y/N, how do you handle the pressure of being with someone constantly in the spotlight?”

She hesitated. Not because she didn’t know, but because she hadn’t expected the question to feel so… real.

“I don’t try to handle it,” she said slowly. “I just try to remind him that there’s a world outside of racing. That he’s more than just Max Verstappen the driver.”

Max’s expression softened—one of those rare looks he saved just for her, all warm gaze and relaxed jawline.

“And she’s the only one who gets away with calling me out when I start acting like a robot,” he added, voice lower now.

There was a pause.

“Wow,” the sound guy whispered.

“Keep rolling,” the director whispered back.

⸻

Later, when they were reviewing footage in the trailer, someone asked if they could get a shot of Max hugging Y/N.

“We have the paddock stuff, the Monaco stuff—but we need something soft to end on.”

Max found her sitting on the edge of the Red Bull hospitality couch, phone in hand.

He didn’t say anything. Just walked up, pulled her into his chest, and kissed the top of her head. Cameras or not.

“You’re doing great,” he said.

“You owe me ten stroopwafels and a massage.”

“I’ll give you twelve.”

The camera rolled as she smiled against his hoodie, arms tightening around his waist.

And later, when the season aired, fans clipped that moment. Over and over.

“Who knew Max Verstappen could be soft?”

“Protect this woman at all costs.”

“Relationship goals.”

But to Max, it was just Tuesday.

_______

Deleted Scene

Y/N stood barefoot in the kitchen, struggling with a stubborn jar of pesto. The label peeled at the edge, and the lid refused to budge despite two dish towels and her full body weight.

“Max!” she called, mildly annoyed. “Can you come here?”

Off-camera, you hear footsteps. Then Max appears in the kitchen doorway, looking suspicious. “What did I do?”

“Nothing. Just open this before I yeet it into the sea.”

He walks over, takes the jar, and opens it effortlessly with one twist.

She stares. “Are you serious?”

He grins, proud. “You loosened it.”

“Uh-huh.”

Without missing a beat, he dips a finger into the pesto and sticks it in his mouth.

“Max!” she gasps, swatting him with a tea towel. “That’s for dinner!”

He shrugs. “Taste test.”

A Netflix producer can be heard laughing behind the camera.

“Can we actually keep rolling?” another asks. “This is gold.”

Y/N turns, catching the crew still filming, and mock-glares at the camera.

“I’m going to need hazard pay.”

Max wraps an arm around her waist and plants a pesto-flavored kiss on her cheek.

“No one would believe how domestic you are,” Y/N mutters, smirking.

“Good. Let them think I’m scary.”

⸻

But don’t worry. The pesto jar ended up on eBay “signed by Max,” with a sticky note that read:

“She loosened it.” – M.V.

All proceeds went to cat shelters. Because Max demanded it.

⸻

FAN REACTIONS TO DELETED SCENE

Twitter/X:

@paddockbabie:

MAX OPENED A JAR AND A NATION FELL IN LOVE

#driveToSurvive #maxverstappen #domesticking

@softf1updates:

the way he dipped his finger into the pesto and then kissed her with zero shame?? I’m on the floor.

literally who gave him permission to be this boyfriend-coded

@f1spicypage:

“you loosened it.”

OH OKAY MAX VERSTAPPEN KING OF HUMBLE DOMESTICITY

⸻

Tumblr:

f1blurbs:

It’s not about the pesto.

It’s about her calling him like a husband.

It’s about him walking in like “what did I do?” like he knows he exists to be summoned.

It’s about the quiet love.

It’s about the damn jar.

I’m crying.

netflix-please:

Reblog if you too would risk it all to have Max Verstappen open a jar for you and call it “loosened by you.”

⸻

TikTok Comments (under the leaked scene with 4.8M views):

@formulalover44:

the way she’s like “MAX” and he just comes?? we love an obedient man

@jamgirlie:

petition to release ALL deleted scenes or i riot

@pestoprincess:

me @ my boyfriend: “why can’t you be more like max verstappen opening pesto jars and donating to cat shelters?”

⸻

Instagram Stories:

@f1gossipgrid:

MAX & Y/N: PESTO-GATE

This leaked deleted scene is the best PR Netflix never meant to drop.

Rumors say Red Bull marketing is already printing “You loosened it” merch.

We’ll take 5.

⸻

And yes—someone already made pesto-themed merch on Etsy with:

“You loosened it – M.V.” in sleek Helvetica on tote bags, mugs, and aprons.

⸻

the end.

+5 vincenzo headers. — like or reblog if you save. credits to @safesjude on twitter

Max finally gets his prize

Imola 2025

Warnings: you knew it was coming, it is finally here, fisting, come play, just Max being feral and entirely insane, and to any dutch people reading this don't hesitate to correct my shitty dutch lmao

One of the Boys Masterlist

Frantic.

That's how you would describe what happened after the race.

People were everywhere, the podium went by in a flash, media was a frenzy, everything was going too fast, and before you knew it you were being dragged into Max's car and driven to his hotel. You were all he could think about.

"You have no idea..." Max was breathless as he pressed you up against the door of his room, doing his best to get both his and your clothes off as quickly as possible. "how many times I've thought about this"

You could only nod, already overwhelmed by his hands seemingly all over your body at once.

"How many times I've thought about Brazil." he growled.

Max had indeed gotten off to the memory of that night more times than he could count.

The way your cunt had been stretched so much that he was able to slip inside you so easily... he didn't know why that of all things got him off so much, but it did.

He wanted to see that again, and this time be the cause of it.

He wanted to see you take anything he was willing to give.

He had lube prepared, after all the goal was to stretch you out, not hurt you.

He'd never do that... unless you asked him to.

But tonight wasn't that kind of night, tonight was about Max's crazy obssession.

You were laying on the bed, hips propped up with a folded pillow, and already you could feel sweat clinging to your skin.

For the first time, you were nervous.

Not in a bad way, it was just that you rarely tried anything new, nowadays.

Max had three fingers inside you already, easily fitted with the pehaps excessive amount of lube he was using.

"Still good?" He asked, voice cracking. He was almost as nervous as you were.

You huffed out a laugh. "It's three fingers, Max. I'll survive"

He pouted. "Okay, a fourth it is then..."

The extra stretch of his little finger slipping in next to the others made you gasp.

He was studying your face for any signs of discomfort, but all he could see was pure unbridled want.

He pushed in further, thrusting gently until the base of his thumb was blocking his hand from going any further. He pressed the fingers that were inside you into your g-spot, massaging it rythmically, and with his thumb rubbed harsh circles across your clit, almost too slippery with how wet you were.

"This... god, this is already so much" Max groaned as he watched your cunt stretching around the upper part of his hand. "Doing so good, schat..."

Max very rarely spoke in dutch to you, when he did it was your sign that his resolve and composure were definitely slipping.

"Max " you sighed, pleasure pulsing through your body in time with the insistent prods against your insides, and the need was rapidly growing inside you for more.

"Fuck-" the pressure on your clit was just right, and soon you were clenching around him as he drove you to your orgasm.

He didn't pull out once you'd come down through. He took advantage of the fact that you were loose and relaxed after your release, to tuck his thumb into you apply the slightest pressure.

Max knew he didn't have the biggest hands in the world, or even on the grid, but even his hands were big enough that you immediately felt the heavy stretch as your poor hole tried to accomodate him.

He was almost there, only a couple more centimeters before his knuckles would slip in...

You clenched and whined in slight pain at the intense pressure and he froze, retreating the slightest bit and staring up at you.

"You okay?" his voice was shaking, terrified of having hurt you. You just nodded and heaved in a breath.

"S'just a lot... go slow, okay?"

He nodded back at you, thrusting his hand in and out of you at a snail's pace, trying to stretch you out a bit before attempting the widest part of his hand again.

He couldn't help leaning down and placing a tender kiss on your clit to apologise. He didn't mean to be a bit over-eager, but this was like a dream coming true for him.

"Look so good all stretched out like this..." his eyes were trained on your puffy cunt pulsing around his hand, and as he pushed more of it in, he could feel his pants getting increasingly wet with the constant leak of precome.

He couldn't wait to be inside you later.

Once again, he got to the point where his knuckles were about to breach you, and he looked at you for signs of discomfort, but only found you with your head tipped back and your brow creased as you white-knuckled the sheets.

"Do it" you panted, a thin sheen of sweat covered your body, and the fact that Max was about to have his whole hand in you was making you clench in anticipation.

Max waited until you unclenched, before taking a breath and giving that last little push and...

Relief... pleasure, loud moans... your fluttering walls swallowed him down to his wrist, and he had to close his eyes or he would definitely come in his pants like a teenager.

Not that he ever did this as a teenager.

It was surreal for both of you.

You looked down, and it was almost unbelievable that something so big was currently fitting so perfectly inside you, and you wouldn't have believed it if not for the slight bulge in your stomach.

You noticed Max was breathing hard and had his eyes closed in concentration.

"Doing okay there, Max?"

"Yep" his tone was clipped, but the rasp in it told you exactly how much he was enjoying this.

"Look, Max." You took his free hand and placed it flat on your stomach "feel how big you are inside me..."

He whined, and finally looked at where, indeed, if he moved he could see and feel the slight bulge.

"Does it feel good?" He asked, his voice was hoarse and he looked like it was taking an inhuman amount of effort to not move too much.

"Yeah, fuck- you're like... I can feel you stretching me out" your body felt like lead, and your innards were burning with need. "Need you to uhh... you know."

He lifted a brow curiously. "What?"

"You know" you were becoming flushed at the attention. "Fuck me"

A small grin crept up on his face. "Fuck you? With my hand?"

His smirk was infuriating, you huffed and closed your eyes. "Yes, obviously"

"Then say it. Say you want me to fuck you with my hand."

You gulped. He sounded too cocky for his own good.

"I want you to fuck me with your hand. Please."

Gis eyes darted from your face to your cunt still stretched around his wrist, to your heaving chest.

"As you wish"

You weren't quite sure exactly what he was doing with his hand, but the pressure against your g-spot was exquisite, and the extrat stretch when he'd start to pull out knocked the wind out of you.

His mouth was on your clit, sucking and licking absentmindedly while he concentrated on using his impressive stamina to keep the movement of his arm steady and regular.

Your back was arched, and you took it all greedily as his pace increased, and soon you could feel yourself gushing around him as you came again with a loud cry of his name.

He slowly, very slowly, to savour the moment, pulled his hand out of you, and almost drooled at the way you were so stretched out you barely noticed, until you were completely empty and whined.

"Fuck"

You were gaping, puffy cunt clenching around nothing, but not fully managing to close completely with how wide it now was.

Max couldn't take it any more. He snapped.

He got rid of his pants, just pushing them down around his thighs and settled between your legs, crawling up to crash his lips against yours.

"Zo mooi " he groaned into it, lining himself up with you sopping entrance, and rubbed himself against it.

"Zo perfect" he gasped, finally sinking into you, all wet and trembling under him. You could barely feel him, yet somehow it felt so good to have him inside you like this, muttering nonsense as his hips slapped against yours while he chased his pleasure, groaning nonsense in your ear.

You could tell he was close by the pitch of his moans increasing and the rhythm of his hips getting sloppy, and you were almost sliding up the bed with the force of them.

With a final harsh thrust he moaned into your mouth "Allemaal van mij ", followed by a sound like a wounded animal as he came inside you.

He barely gave himself any time to recover before he was quickly pulling out and pushing your legs apart, intent on watching your combined mess leaking onto the sheets, cunt desperately trying to keep his come inside you, to no avail.

He looked so fucked out than you'd ever seen him, cheeks flushed and damp hair sticking out like he'd run his hands through it a hundred times, and he was mesmerised.

"This is the hottest thing I've ever seen" he panted, and you just looked up at him.

He was trailing his fingers through the mess, spreading it around your lips.

Then he put his fingers against your other lips, and you eagerly opened your mouth to suck on them.

You smirked and with some effort, managed to turn around onto your stomach, spreading your legs and arching your back to expose yourself to him. He just groaned softly and put his hands on you to spread you further.

"If you want a round two I'm certainly up for it. After all, you made all that space inside me, it would be a shame to not fill it up..."

His jaw dropped.

He crawled over you, already half hard cock nudging your entrance, threatening to slip inside you again as his face hovered next to yours.

"How much do you think you can take?"

He nipped at your ear, trailing down your neck, and sank his teeth lightly into your shoulder. That made your back arch even more, and the head of his cock slipped inside you.

"As much as it takes to tire you out"

He chuckled darkly, and pushed your upper body flat against the bed with a hand on the back of your neck.

"That's a dangerous offer... I'm not sure you're ready for that many rounds, schat..."

You could hear the vaguely threatening tone in his voice, accompanied by a teasing lilt.

"Do your worst, baby. Fuck me like a winner"

Little Secret

Min Yoongi x Reader

Summary: Your relationship with Yoongi, though young, couldn't be better. But that doesn't mean it's perfect Genre: fluff Word Count: 1,802 Warnings: none Notes: This is a rewrite of Dirty Little Secret. Thanks to @taegularities and @eatjeanjin for beta-ing this.

Part of the Long Term Couples series. Read more here.

Dating him was hard.

It was the late nights, the daily exhaustion, the constant coming and going of touring and promoting and recording. It was stopping by the studio just to see him for 15 minutes while he was on break. It was stopping by the practice space while he worked on choreography just to be in the same room as him. It was missed dates and missed calls and ignored texts.

It was sleeping alone, even when you were at the dorms.

And it was sharing him. With management. With the other six members. With the world.

It was not getting to have him publicly because it just wasn’t the right time.

It was never the right time.

He had warned you about it all on the first date. He was cautious. He was used to being dumped. It was no one’s fault, he had said. Having a love life was hard for him, and he didn’t blame anyone who didn’t want all of the strings attached.

He reminded you again on the second real date, almost a month and a half later. He wouldn’t be offended if you didn’t want to see him for a third, he had said. He understood if you wanted something a little more stable, more predictable, more normal.

The third date had come soon after that, a rare day off where he could actually take you out for a drive-thru milkshake. You had sat in the parking lot of the BigHit offices--the only place he could guarantee you wouldn’t be harassed--and he’d brought it up again. He wanted you to be happy, he had told you. He was fond of you, but he didn’t want that to affect anything. If you wanted to leave, he would let you.

He thought he was protecting you from his lifestyle, from him. Min Yoongi had always been considerate like that.

But as you sat there in the passenger seat of the car he borrowed from his company, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave. Not when he was sitting there chewing on his lip, absentmindedly stirring the dregs of his milkshake, pretending he wasn’t staring at you behind his sunglasses.

You knew you couldn’t have left him if you wanted to, even back then.

You were astonished at how hard you fell for him, at how quickly he took root in your heart. Two months in, you’d asked him for his schedule, and you started bringing him lunch when he was in the studio on your days off. You’d let yourself into the Genius Lab with the passcode he had shared with you like it was the code to set off a nuclear bomb and stay until you got sick of sitting there and then a little longer because you were happy to spend the time in silence if it meant you got to hang out together.

It was on one of those days that you were sitting on the couch in his studio, flipping through a magazine quietly. You had brought him a few rolls of kimbap and kimchi for lunch, and since he had promised it would be a shorter day, you were waiting for him to finish up with the track he was working on.

The magazine you were reading featured an article about a charitable event Yoongi and the other members had attended the previous month. The event had been teeming with celebrities, including a few female idol groups from other labels. You weren’t surprised when the article featured some gossip, especially when there was a full page spread of Jimin, Tae, Yoongi, and a few of the female idols at the event.

You glanced up at Yoongi as he worked. He was turned halfway between his midi keyboard and his computer, his right hand playing a melody you couldn’t hear, his left hand balanced over his computer keyboard. He tapped his foot as he played, counting out the beat for himself. Only the left side of his headphones was on properly, the right one pushed back and rested just behind his ear.

He looked over at you and flashed you a shy smile, hitting something on his computer keyboard. “You look confused,” he mumbled, pushing his headphones off fully so that they rested around his neck.

“Do I?”

He hummed, spinning his chair so he was facing you fully. “What’s on your mind?”

You looked down at the magazine. The Yoongi of a month ago stared back at you, the female idol’s arm around his shoulders. “This is probably going to sound dumb, but… why me?”

“What?”

“Of all the people in the world, you want me. Why?”

Yoongi rolled his chair towards you, looking at the magazine in your lap. “I mean, I’ll happily answer that question if you want me to, but… Where’s this coming from?”

You shrugged, tossing the magazine aside. “Morbid curiosity, I guess.”

He was silent for a moment, taking your hand in his. His thumb ghosted over your knuckles. “Can I tell you something?” He licked his lips before continuing. “Never in my wildest dreams did I even dare to hope to find someone like you.”

“Boring?” you joked.

His eyebrows creased, and a small pout formed on his lips. “I was going to say something cute, but boring works, too.” He dropped your hand and started to roll his chair back to his desk.

“No, hey.” You managed to grab his wrist before he got too far. “I wanna hear the cute thing, too.”

Yoongi laughed, a big, gummy smile spreading across his face. You could see the hint of a blush blossoming on his cheekbones. “Most people get so hung up on Suga and Agust D that they forget about Yoongi,” he said softly. “Most of the time, it feels like you don’t even know that I’m famous.” You chuckled softly, but otherwise stayed quiet. He raised an eyebrow, his pout returning. “Was that not cute enough for you?”

“You’re adorable.” You pinched his cheek quickly.

“Then what’s wrong?”

You sighed. He could read you like a book. Which, you supposed, wasn’t a bad thing. “I dunno.” You looked away from him, choosing instead to focus on the stickers on the air conditioning unit. “I love getting to spend time with Yoongi. I do.” You needed him to know that. That no matter what you were feeling, you truly did enjoy spending time with him, in whatever capacity he could manage. “I guess I just… I wish I could hang out with Suga sometimes. Y’know. In public.”

The couch dipped beside you, and his hand squeezed your knee. “Someday,” he whispered. “I would love nothing more than to take you to charity events and awards shows. I want to take you out to dinner and eat in the restaurant.” He sighed. His thumb rubbed circles into the fabric of your jeans. “But we have to wait for the label to give the green light. I don’t know how our fans would react.”

You sighed. He was right. Of course he was. Maybe someday your relationship would be public. He cared for you, that much was obvious. It made things easier to know that.

“I know that’s not very helpful.” Yoongi offered you a sad smile, his hand still in yours. “I wish I could give you more.”

“It’s fine. Honestly.”

“It’s not, though. You’re clearly upset by it.” He squeezed your hand, his soft eyes not meeting yours.

“I mean, it’s not forever. We’ll live.” You felt a little silly being bothered by it. It wasn’t like you were the only one going through this. You knew Jungkook and his girlfriend were in a similar boat, and there were hundreds of groups that were dealing with similar restrictions. “I just… it’s sad to not know when that’ll be, you know? It’s stupid. I don’t even enjoy going to public events like that. But it sucks to not even have the option. And…” You shook your head. “It’s silly.”

“It’s not silly. Tell me what’s on your mind.” He rolled his chair closer, his knee slotting itself between yours.

You sighed. “I just… we can’t dance? In public, I mean. It’s dumb. I don’t even like dancing.”

For a moment, Yoongi was silent, his lower lip captured between his teeth. His brow furrowed as he stared at your hands in his. Then, without saying anything, he rolled away from you. You felt stupid for even bringing it up. You’d only been officially dating for a few months. It seemed unfair to just burden him with your problems like that, especially when there was literally nothing he could do about it.

He started clicking away at something on his computer and your heart sank, assuming that he was getting back to work. He was busy, after all, and you knew he was determined to leave early that day. You reached down, grabbing your bag. You’d get out of his way so that he could work and not have to worry about you.

Just as you were about to stand and bid Yoongi goodbye, a soft song started to play through the speakers on his desk. He spun around in his chair to face you, a soft smile on his lips. Carefully, he stood, his hand outstretched to you as he crossed the short distance. Confused, you let him take your hand and tug you up.

He clutched your hand tightly, his other arm snaking its way around your waist, pulling you flush against him. Gently, he started to sway and you got the hint, wrapping your arm around him and resting your hand against his shoulder blade. He hummed along to the song, the soft sound rumbling in his chest. You didn’t recognize the tune.

“Why don’t you like dancing?” Yoongi whispered after what felt like an eternity in silence.

He was warm and soft in your arms, and his thumb rubbed gentle circles into your lower back, sending pleasant tingles up your spine. Your mind was a little hazy in the bliss of the moment, but you managed to respond.

“I don’t know. Just not my thing, I guess.” You felt him nod in understanding. “This isn’t so bad, though.”

Yoongi laughed at that, the feeling reverberating through your own chest. If only he knew how much of an understatement that was. Someday, you’d tell him. You’d tell him how, even though you’d only been together for a short time, he made you feel safe, and loved, and like you mattered. That no one else had ever made you feel as special as he did. That after such a short time, his attention and care meant more to you than almost anything else.

But until then, you supposed you could enjoy your little secret.

Read more of the series here.

Mini Verstappen Series Masterlist

Paring: Single Dad!Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader

At the end of 2020, Max Verstappen gets the surprise of his life when he finds out that his ex-girlfriend had given birth to a son, his son. A year and a half later Max's longtime girlfriend of 8 months finds out about his son Nico.

This is an ongoing series. I'm always adding to it. The masterlist changes often.

I do take requests for this. If there is anything that you want to see happen in this series just message me in my ask box. All of my normal request rules apply.

Reader Face Claim: Hande Erçel

Total Published Word Count: 78,420 Words

Disclaimer: This work below is fictionalized ideas and stories involving real people but does not directly reflect their thoughts, feelings, or behaviors. Please keep in mind that this is a work of fiction, so enjoy it as such.

𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑂𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑟

0.0. Prologue - [December 10, 2020]

Max finds out that he has a son. And it changes his world.

0.1. Be Something You'll Love and Understand [December 11, 2020] Outtakes

He knew that he should have called his mom yesterday but he was still wrapping his head around the idea of being a father.

0.5. The Moment You Smiled At Me - [December 27, 2021]

The evening that started it all for Max and Reader.

1. Mini Verstappen - [August 15, 2022]

You get a small surprise the first time you visit Max’s apartment.

1.5. Girlfriend? - [November 1, 2022] Request

You meet Nico.

1.8. Caught - [June 4, 2023] 18+ Outtakes

Lando swears he knocked before walking into Max's hotel room, maybe he should have yelled before opening the door.

2. Change - [November 26, 2023 + January 2, 2024]

It’s the end of the F1 season. Some things are changing for the Verstappen's.

SMAU #1. The Secrets Out - [December 31, 2023 - January 1, 2024]

3. A Lioness Protects Her Cub - [May 5 - 9, 16, 23, 2024] Request

Reporters are vultures and Max picks out a ring.

4. Day At The Karting Track - [June 14, 2024]

Nico starts karting. It opens a small can of worms.

4.5 The Engagement - [August 15 - 16, 2024]

He moved his hand over yours, moving the engagement ring that he placed on your finger, side to side.

SMAU #2. Through Max's Eyes - [March 8, July 30 - August 15, 2024]

5. Something Bad, Something Good - [August 17 - 19, 2024] Request

Reader deals with the haters on Twitter, Nico calls Reader Mama. Max claps back at the haters on Instagram like the malewife that he strives to be.

5.5 Time to Move? - [August 25, September 15, 2024]

When Max had brought up moving, it was because the lease on his apartment was going to be up at the end of the year. Maybe it was time to find a new place for all of you.

6. Race Day - [October 20, 2024] Request

Nico tags along with Max during a race day in Monza, well as much as he can.

6.1 White Wedding - [February 2, 2025] Request

Max and the Reader's wedding day. OG Wedding Headcanon with social media from their honeymoon.

6.5. Give and Take (Kind of Love We Make) - [February 28, 2025] 18+ Request (The Morning After)

Max had a plan in his head for the evening. He had mapped out the track before, and intended to keep to his strategy until they got home.

6.7. To Constantly Be Away - [March 9 & 10, 2025]

Second race of the season and Max is already having a tough time with the car. Missing his family only makes it worse.

7. From Three to Four - [April 4, 2025]

Reader tells Max that your expecting, he doesn't have the best reaction at first.

8. Stones To Throw At My Creator - [July 19, 2025]

He wasn't his father. He would never raise Nico like that.

SMAU #3. The Verstappens - [January 8, February 2, May 26, December 3, 2025]

8.7 Give Me Eyes To See - [December 8, 2025]

Nikita's first few days at home. Flashbacks to moments from the reader's pregnancy.

8.8 Nikita's First Christmas - [December 24-25, 2025]

Nico's first Christmas with his baby brother.

8.9 Ghost of Bittersweet Memories - [January 25, 2026]

A few of the drivers visit you and Max for the day, and you end up talking with Charles about a woman that he meets at an FIA event. (This is the conversation I referenced in Part 2 of Bittersweet.)

9. Glass Houses - [February 17, 22, 23, 2026]

When Raymond had called you about going and getting lunch, you should have known that something was going on.

9.5. All That I Can Give - [May 10, 2026]

Another Mother's Day and one of Nikita's firsts.

9.7. On Sleepless Roads, The Sleepless Go - [December 2-3, 2026]

It's the early hours of Nikita's first birthday, and you can't help but look back at the day you brought your son into the world.

SMAU #4. A Year in Moments - [February 10, May 28, August 2 & 27, October 22 & 31, 2026]

10. Redline - [May 25, 2027]

"I'm sorry, mijn leeuwin. I know you were excited to announce it to everyone."

10.5. Mommy and Me - [May 31 - June 6, 2027] Request

Late one evening after dinner Y/N brought up the idea to Max for her to take Nico out for the day.

11. X3 - [July 8-9, 2027]

“Hallo, kleine welp,” Max said.

11.5. She's Not Acid Nor Alkaline - [December 8, 2027]

Max and Reader have a night away from the kids in Santorini for the 2027 FIA Prize Giving Gala.

SMAU #5. Welcoming Another Verstappen - [2027]

12. Hey, Little Sister - [March 27 - November 20, 2028]

“You wanted this Max. You wanted her.”

SMAU #6. A Year to Celebrate - [2028]

12.5. Of Father’s and Children - [June 18, 2029]

Father’s Day 2029

13. The End of An Era - [November 2030]

The days leading up to Max retiring from Formula 1. The Article announcing his retirement. And the last race of his F1 career.

14. No Time To Die - [2031]

Max goes racing at Nürbergring and it doesn't end well.

15. Right On Track - [2036]

Checking in with the Verstsppens in 2036.

16. Letters From The Past - [November 17, 2038]

Max and Reader sit down to read the letters that Amelia (Nico's birth mom) wrote.

𝐸 𝒳 𝒯 𝑅 𝒜 𝒮

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Timeline

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Mini Verstappen taglist: @karmabyfernando, @barcagirly, @sachaa-ff, @iamahallucinationnn, @musingsbyshreya, @glow-ish, @nonsensical-nonsence, @fanboyluvr, @champomiel, @gothicwidowsworld, @lighttsoutlewis, @itsalwaysgay, @minkyungseokie, @mynameisangeloflife, @ursforever129, @aundercover, @bborra, @mindless-rock, @cixrosie, @barcelonaloverf1life, @taylorslovesswifties13, @konsti081, @mellowarcadefun, @smnthnclj, @brekkers-whore, @lpab, @thedecalcomania-blog, @xoscar03, @em-gvf01, @haikyuen, @shelbyteller , @geniusalpaca, @princessria127 , @mysticalnightenthusiast , @green-thots , @leah-also-known-as-creatoronwp

Rained Out

Toto Wolff x pregnant!Reader

Summary: a series of unfortunate events pushes Toto’s protective side to the surface

Based on this request

The rain drums steadily against the pavement, creating a shimmering curtain that obscures the bustling Canadian Grand Prix paddock from view. You stand just outside the entrance, one hand resting protectively on your swollen belly, the other clutching your useless paddock pass. The security guard eyes you sympathetically but remains firm.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I can’t let you in if your pass isn’t scanning,” he says, his voice barely audible over the downpour.

You bite your lip, frustration and discomfort warring within you. “Please, I’m Toto Wolff’s wife. I’m sure this is just a technical glitch. If you could just call him-”

The guard shakes his head. “I’ve already radioed in. Mr. Wolff is in a meeting and can’t be disturbed. I’m truly sorry, but rules are rules. You’ll have to wait until we can verify your identity.”

A shiver runs through you as the wind picks up, sending icy droplets cascading down your neck. Your thin jacket, hastily thrown on before leaving the hotel, offers little protection against the elements. You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to shield your unborn child from the chill.

Time crawls by at an agonizing pace. Other team members and officials hurry past, sparing curious glances at the very pregnant woman standing forlornly in the rain. You try Toto’s phone again, willing it to ring.

Finally, after what feels like hours but is likely only thirty minutes, a familiar voice cuts through the monotonous patter of rain.

“Schatz! Oh mein Gott, what are you doing out here?”

Toto appears, his tall frame moving with surprising speed. His eyes are wide with concern as he takes in your bedraggled state.

“The pass ... it wouldn’t scan,” you manage through chattering teeth. “They couldn’t reach you.”

Toto’s face darkens as he turns to the security guard. “How could you leave my pregnant wife standing in this weather? Do you have any idea-”

You place a gentle hand on his arm. “Toto, don’t. He was just doing his job.”

The anger in Toto’s eyes softens as he looks at you, replaced by guilt and worry. He shrugs off his team jacket and wraps it around your shoulders, ushering you quickly through the now-open gate.

“Come, let’s get you inside and dry,” he murmurs, his arm protectively around your waist.

As you enter the relative warmth of the Mercedes garage, the bustle of pre-race preparations momentarily halts. All eyes turn to you and Toto, taking in your drenched appearance.

“Somebody get some towels!” Toto barks, his accent thickening with stress. “And find some dry clothes!”

You lean into him, grateful for his solid presence. “I’m okay, really,” you assure him, though your voice wavers slightly. “Just a bit damp.”

Toto’s eyebrows shoot up. “A bit damp? Liebling, you look like you’ve been swimming in your clothes.”

Despite your discomfort, you can’t help but laugh. “Well, I always did want to try synchronized swimming. Though I imagined a pool, not a parking lot.”

Toto’s lips twitch, a reluctant smile breaking through his worry. “Your sense of humor remains intact, I see.”

A team member approaches with a stack of fluffy towels and what appears to be team-issued sweats. Toto takes them with a nod of thanks.

“Can you manage changing by yourself?” He asks quietly. “Or do you need help?”

You consider for a moment. While you’d normally insist on independence, your sodden clothes are clinging uncomfortably, and your fingers feel numb from the cold.

“I ... might need a hand,” you admit sheepishly.

Toto nods, guiding you towards a more private corner of the garage. He helps you peel off the wet layers, his touch gentle and reverent as it skims over your rounded belly.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs as he helps you into the dry clothes. “I should have made sure your pass was working properly. I should have answered my phone.”

You cup his face in your hands, forcing him to meet your eyes. “Hey, none of that. It was just a silly mix-up. No harm done.”

Toto’s brow furrows. “No harm? You were standing in the freezing rain for God knows how long! You could get sick, or the baby-”

“The baby is fine,” you interrupt, placing his large hand on your stomach. As if on cue, there’s a strong kick against his palm. “See? Still doing somersaults in there.”

Some of the tension leaves Toto’s shoulders, but concern still lingers in his eyes. “Still, I want Dr. Müller to check you over, just to be safe.”

You nod, knowing arguing would be pointless. “Alright, if it will make you feel better. But first ...” You glance meaningfully at the bustling garage around you. “Don’t you have a race to prepare for?”

Toto hesitates, clearly torn between his professional duties and his desire to fuss over you. You give him a gentle push.

“Go on. I promise I’ll sit quietly and drink something warm until the doctor arrives.”

He searches your face for a moment, then nods. “Alright. But you call me immediately if you feel even slightly unwell, verstanden?”

“Verstanden,” you echo with a smile. “Now go be the big, scary team principal everyone expects.”

Toto chuckles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I love you, you know that?”

“I had an inkling,” you tease. “Now scoot!”

As Toto reluctantly returns to his duties, you settle into a chair, gratefully accepting a steaming mug of tea from a hovering team member. The garage slowly returns to its normal frenetic pace, though you notice several concerned glances thrown your way.

You’re halfway through your tea when a familiar face appears at your side. Lewis crouches down, his expression a mix of worry and amusement.

“I hear you tried to stage your own wet race out there,” he says with a grin.

You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “What can I say? I was feeling left out of all the excitement.”

Lewis chuckles, then his face grows more serious. “You alright though? For real?”

You nod, touched by his concern. “I’m fine, truly. Just a bit waterlogged. Though I think Toto might spontaneously combust from worry.”

As if summoned by his name, Toto appears behind Lewis. “Yes, Dr. Müller, thank you for coming on such short notice. She’s right here.”

You shoot Lewis an exasperated look that clearly says ‘see what I mean?’ He responds with a sympathetic pat on your shoulder before rising.

“I’ll leave you to it,” he says. “Try not to give the old man a heart attack before the race, yeah?”

Toto scowls playfully at Lewis’ retreating back. “I heard that!”

As Dr. Müller begins her examination, Toto hovers anxiously nearby, his eyes darting between you and the various race preparations happening around the garage.

“Toto,” you call softly. “I can practically hear you thinking from here. What’s wrong?”

He runs a hand through his hair, a telltale sign of stress. “I just ... I can’t stop thinking about you standing out there in the rain. What if something had happened? What if-”

“But nothing did happen,” you interrupt gently. “I’m fine, the baby’s fine. It was just a bit of rain.”

Toto shakes his head. “It’s not just that. I should have been there. I should have made sure you were taken care of. What kind of husband, what kind of father am I going to be if I can’t even-”

“Stop right there,” you say firmly. “You are going to be an amazing father, Toto Wolff. You already are. Do you know how I know?”

He looks at you questioningly.

“Because you care this much,” you explain. “Because even in the middle of one of the biggest race weekends of the year, your first thought is for me and our baby. That’s what matters, not some silly mishap with a security pass.”

Toto’s eyes soften, and he moves to kneel beside you, taking your hand in his. “How did I get so lucky?” He murmurs.

You smile, squeezing his hand. “I ask myself the same thing every day.”

Dr. Müller clears her throat, reminding you both of her presence. “Well, I’m happy to report that both mother and baby are perfectly healthy. No signs of distress or illness from the exposure to the cold.”

The relief on Toto’s face is palpable. “Thank you, Doctor. That’s wonderful news.”

As Dr. Müller packs up her equipment, you turn to Toto with a mischievous glint in your eye. “So, now that we’ve established that I’m not about to melt from a little rain, what do you say we focus on winning this race?”

Toto laughs, the remaining tension finally leaving his body. “Always keeping me on track, aren’t you?”

“Someone has to,” you tease. “Now, go lead your team to victory. Your very pregnant, very proud wife will be cheering you on from right here.”

Toto leans in, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. “I love you,” he murmurs. “Both of you.”

As he straightens up, resuming his role as the formidable Mercedes team principal, you can’t help but smile. Come rain or shine, paddock pass or no paddock pass, you know that you and Toto can weather any storm together.