COME WHAT MAY | Sebastian Vettel ✩₊˚.⋆ PROLOGUE: A PHONE CALL AND A NEW BEGINNING [PREVIOUS PART] [NEXT PART]
come what may masterlist | formula 1 masterlist
Red Bull Sebastian Vettel x Red Bull intern & Webber girlfriend!Reader
SUMMARY: Sebastian breaks up with Hanna and Y/N, his best friend, offers him to go to her hometown to try disconnect from everything. However, things take a turn for the worst when Mark Webber, Seb's teammate and Y/N's boyfriend, calls her and starts thinking she's cheating on him with Vettel.
WORD COUNT: 7337
WARNINGS: Angst, curse words and bad language, such a toxic Mark Webber, mentions of death, cancer and suicide
TAGLIST: @hc-dutch @raavadakedavra @coffeedestroyingperson @evey-kuznetskova @bowielovesyou @chaoswithus @isotopemylove @iceman-kazansky @residentdemonhunter @astronomyandfrogs @herdetectivetheorist @prttylight @i-love-sirius-black7 @dreamauri @03071987 [feel free to join the taglist!]
VEE'S NOTES: I absolutely adored writing this, so I hope you like it reading too! If so, feel free to comment me your thoughts, as well as rebloging it since I'd appreciate that a lot! Thank you so much for reading in advance <3 ↳ MAKE YOUR REQUESTS | TALK TO ME! | FORMULA 1 MASTERLIST
© VETTELSVEE (2025). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!
Linz, Austria January 15th, 2010
"Sometimes I wonder if, besides whether I deserve everything I've achieved, I'm actually doing good enough to keep it. I mean... do I deserve my position at Red Bull, or are they just keeping me because Seb was the one who got me in, and now I'm also Mark's girlfriend? And about that last part... am I really what my boyfriend deserves, or, like dad says, is it just a passing fling of a few months where I only want to sleep with him as some sort of stress relief? Seb says that, as long as Mark makes me happy, that's what matters, but... does Mark really make me happy? Or is it..."
"I'll open the door, Dad!"
Louisa's voice snapped you back to reality.
Carefully, you put away the journal he had given you for your twenty-first birthday, which had served as your therapy ever since, in the nightstand drawer. Then, you jumped out of bed with an energy you hadn’t felt in a long time and cheerfully walked over to your desk. You carefully moved aside the scattered notes you still hadn’t put away despite the semester ending two weeks ago and made sure everything looked as presentable as possible. Your straightened hair fell over your shoulders, though your bangs needed a little fixing, nothing you couldn’t adjust with your fingers. You also applied some lip balm, more to add a bit of shine than to keep your lips hydrated. Lastly, you adjusted your clothes as best as you could, trying to relax as much as possible and, most importantly, remind yourself that he would be more than happy to see you, no matter how you looked.
You knew that Sebastian Vettel was just your best friend, but in some way, you always tried to appear as perfect as possible before him to show you were worthy of his friendship.
You knew that, no matter how much Sebastian had cherished you since you both met in 2008, when you joined Toro Rosso as an intern while he was already a driver, he was better than you in every way.
The door suddenly opened, pulling you out of your thoughts and revealing your two younger sisters peeking through the gap.
“Why are you taking so long?” Amelie, 15, inquired. “It’s not like your boyfriend just arrived…”
“Yeah, yeah! Why are you getting all pretty?” The youngest, Louisa, 8, chimed in. “Seb is already downstairs waiting for you. He’s talking to dad and uncle Hans about football, and I’m so bored…”
“Shut up you idiot,” Amelie responded, giving her a light shoulder tap. “Don’t listen to her,” she turned to you. “What they’re actually doing is grilling Sebastian about why he’s here today and, more importantly, why he’s staying with us for a few days.”
Your eyes widened in surprise. As far as you could remember, Seb hadn’t mentioned anything about staying over.
“What do you mean, staying with us? Seb said that?”
“Uncle Hans thinks he’s just a friend, but dad believes you’re sleeping with him while also sleeping with Mark,” Amelie retorted.
“How the hell would I be sleeping with Seb?!” you shouted, making your sisters step inside the room and slamming the door shut. “That’s… ridiculous, that’s what it is,” you added, trying your best not to curse.
“But if dad says it, it must be true, Didi,” Louisa replied, a bit annoyed. “You know dad never lies to us.”
“Listen to me, both of you,” you cut them off. “I need you to behave and promise me something.”
Amelie and Louisa exchanged curious glances before looking back at you.
“I don’t want you to mention Mark in front of Seb. No jokes, no side comments about how much you dislike him… nothing. Got it?”
“Why can’t I tell Seb I don’t like Mark if it’s the truth? Do I have to lie to him?” Louisa asked with her characteristic innocence. “I like Seb a lot, and I don’t want to lie to him…”
“Because…”
“If you’re hesitating that much it must be because you really are sleeping with Seb.”
“Amelie, shut it! Lou’s here!” you scolded, glancing at Louisa.
“What does sleeping with mean? Does it mean you’re dating?” Louisa asked, looking at you one again with a mix of curiosity and doubt.
“Seb doesn’t have a girlfriend anymore, okay?”
Your statement left your younger sisters stunned. Louisa had liked Hanna quite a bit, and she had always been nice to her whenever they met. Amelie, on the other hand, even though she had liked the German woman, started wondering why that same German, who had seemed so in love with his girlfriend, had suddenly broken up with her.
“Seb isn’t with Hanna anymore?”
You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself and give them a convincing answer, even though you didn’t have one herself.
“Yeah, Seb isn’t with Hanna anymore,” you replied as calmly as possible. “Don’t ask why because he didn’t give me many details other than, well… that he needed a break.”
“Does Mark know about this not-so-surprise visit?” Amelie asked, crossing her arms.
Your heart skipped a beat. If there was one thing you hated about your middle sister, it was how nosy she was for a 15-year-old. If she was like this now, you didn’t even want to imagine what she’d be like in a few years.
“Not everything revolves around Mark, Ame,” you brushed off the question because you didn’t know how to answer that no, your boyfriend had no idea about this visit, which you were more than thrilled about. “Seb is my best friend, and he’s going through a lot. And do you know what good friends do in bad times? They’re there for each other.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say…” Amelie replied, unconvinced.
Louisa, who was about to say how happy she was that Vettel was there with them and how much she preferred him over Webber as your boyfriend, was interrupted by their father’s deep voice calling from downstairs:
“Y/N Y/L/N, get down here! Your guest is tired of waiting!”
You quickly checked your reflection one last time, grabbed your phone, and, before opening the door, turned to your sisters with a stern look:
“You two,” you pointed at them, “no jokes today. Not a word about Mark or anything related to him.”
The youngest nodded enthusiastically, bouncing slightly as she headed for the stairs. Amelie, however, simply shrugged and smirked mischievously.
“I’ll think about it,” she said before following Lou down the stairs.
“Amelie!” you hissed under your breath.
“Fine, fine. I promise…”
Rolling your eyes, you made one final check to ensure you looked perfect before stepping out. Your heart pounded uncontrollably as you descended the stairs. You tried to push aside any thoughts that could make your reunion with Sebastian awkward, or let your nerves get the best of you.
However, everything seemed to go to hell the moment your eyes landed on the German.
Sebastian was there, chatting animatedly with your aunt, Johanna, who was chopping vegetables. You were taken aback to see him with his sweater sleeves rolled up, still wearing his Red Bull beanie, as he carefully cut something.
Afraid your friend might catch your staring, you quickly glanced at the dining table, where your father and uncle were still engrossed in the football discussion Lou had mentioned. Your sisters were at the other end of the living room, turning on the Wii console, likely to start a game of Mario Kart and try to get Seb to join them.
You looked back at the driver the moment you heard him laugh, probably at something your aunt had said. He looked so natural, so comfortable, as if he truly belonged in your family. He hadn’t changed much since the last time you saw him, nearly three months ago, but you suddenly felt a strange sensation in your stomach, similar to the anxiety you got during exams, but for an entirely different reason.
The more you observed him, the more you noticed how tired he looked. How… sad he seemed. And somehow, in a way you couldn’t quite explain, that made you feel absolutely awful.
Or perhaps you were beginning to admit what you had never acknowledged to yourself in order not to ruin the friendship you had always needed but never truly had.
“Ah, Y/N! Look who I put to work. He’s better than me at cutting onions. You should tell Seb to come visit us more often, so he can help me when your sisters don’t want to.”
Seb turned at the mention of his name. The smile he had missed so much appeared on his face the moment he saw you. Before you could say anything, he closed the small distance between you at an incredible speed and, without a word, embraced you.
You remained still for a few seconds, surprised and unsure of what to do. The contact completely unsettled you, but as soon as he started stroking your hair, you relaxed and returned the hug, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist and pulling him closer.
“You don’t even have an idea of how much I’ve missed you, Y/N,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your head.
“I missed you too.”
And you have no idea how much, you thought, trying to swallow the lump in your throat.
Why did your entire being seem to change, becoming something so complicated and inexplicable, whenever he was near?
If only he knew what that farewell at the last Grand Prix of the season had meant to you…
When you pulled apart, the driver studied your face carefully. There was something about you that felt a bit unfamiliar… different. He couldn’t tell if it was your hair, a little shorter since the last time he saw you; the dark circles under your eyes, more pronounced than they should have been after three weeks of vacation before starting your final university semester; or the evident weight loss.
“I really wanted to see you again,” he forced himself to say instead of asking what had happened to you to make you look so… different.
You forced a small smile and lowered your gaze, embarrassed by not knowing what else to say. You had thought of telling him that he looked great, because, in your eyes, he always did, but decided against it, considering the reason he had come to visit.
“So they put you to work, huh?” you finally said, gesturing toward your aunt, who was watching them while continuing to prepare dinner.
“Not really. I volunteered,” Seb replied with a smile. Johanna was about to say something, but the young man interrupted her. “It’s the least I could do after you let me stay here for a few days.”
You swallowed hard. You were more than happy to have your friend stay with your family for a few days, but… why couldn’t you remember anything about that conversation?
“And let me tell you, he’s an excellent volunteer. If only Mark were more like…”
“You don’t have to treat him like royalty, Johanna,” you cut off your aunt before she could say more. Seb blushed and started nervously playing with his hands. “He’s just…”
“Yes, I know, your friend,” the woman replied, apologizing to you with a glance. “But, as your friend, he is also our guest, and he deserves the best. Besides, he doesn’t complain about my excellent taste in music, unlike someone I know…” She added, glancing sideways at her husband.
Seb chuckled, leaning against the kitchen counter without breaking eye contact with you.
“At least it’s better than those weird songs Ricciardo used to play when we were at Toro Rosso. Do you remember when he got obsessed with playing Nessun Dorma before every race?”
“Oh God, don’t remind me. I love classical music, but I still have nightmares about that.”
You both laughed at the memory of the year you met, when you had become each other’s biggest support. Everything had changed, perhaps too much, in those short two years, but what mattered most was that you still had each other, no matter what.
At least, for now.
You tried to step a little closer to Sebastian, but the sound of your father dragging his chair and moving toward you made you step back shyly.
“Well then… what’s the plan, Vettel? Are you staying here for a few days?”
Seb nodded nervously at Bernhard’s question. Even though he knew your father well and had met him countless times, he always felt nervous whenever they shared the same space, especially when they had a conversation.
“Well… yes. If that’s okay with you, of course,” he quickly added, stepping closer to the older man. “I needed to get away from Switzerland for a bit, and even more from Heppenheim… to clear my head. And, to be honest, there’s no one else I’d rather spend this time with.”
His gaze shifted to you, who were trying to process his words. You kept glancing nervously between Bernhard and Sebastian, afraid one of them might say something inappropriate.
“Of course, kid,” your father finally answered, giving Seb a pat on the back. “You know you’re more than welcome here. Hell, I should pay you extra for taking such good care of my little girl when you’re away!”
“Dad…”
“I do it gladly, Bernhard. I’ve already told her, but in case she’s forgotten, let me say it again: I love spending time with Y/N.”
You lowered her gaze, embarrassed by all the attention you were receiving, and especially by the scene unfolding before you. You didn’t need to look up to know that Seb had his eyes on her, just like your father. You also knew that your aunt was probably muttering some comparison between your best friend and your boyfriend, and that your uncle would soon join in.
Sebastian took a chance and, while continuing to talk with Bernhard who, due to his worsening health, had quickly taken a seat on one of the dining island stools, wrapped an arm around your shoulder.
To their surprise, no one objected.
“Uh… Dad?” you spoke up, your voice small and hesitant as you carefully removed Seb’s arm and leaned over the kitchen island.
“Something wrong?”
“Would you mind if… if Seb and I went for a walk?” You asked timidly. “And would it be okay if we had dinner out?” You added, this time addressing your aunt.
Johanna set down what she was doing and turned to you. She narrowed her eyes slightly, inspecting the pair of friends. Then, she placed the knife on the cutting board and turned to you with a smile.
“Why are you asking me? You’re twenty-one, almost twenty-two, sweetheart,” she answered, now turning to Bernhard, who agreed with his sister-in-law. “You don’t need our permission to go out, Y/N.”
You opened her mouth to respond but immediately closed it again. Your cheeks turned a deep shade of red, standing out even more against your now pale skin. You stared straight ahead, absentmindedly playing with the hem of your sweater to avoid saying anything inappropriate again.
To hide the fact that your insecurity and discomfort had, in some way, worsened since certain events with a certain person.
“I think Y/N just wanted to check in case you were making extra food for dinner, Johanna,” Seb intervened. You met his gaze, silently thanking him for stepping in. “But if you’re worried about anything,” or Y/N, he thought to himself, “I promise to bring her back at a reasonable hour, safe and happy.”
Johanna raised an eyebrow. Meanwhile, Hans and Bernhard exchanged knowing looks, probably misinterpreting the German’s words, as they suddenly started chuckling.
“Don’t even think about setting a curfew for my girl, Vettel. You’re a Formula 1 driver, and my daughter is six months away from graduating university. You’re both adults, for God’s sake!” Bernhard laughed, trying to keep a straight face.
“We just don’t want you getting into trouble,” your uncle added. “I’m a lawyer, but I wouldn’t want you two as clients, especially not for free.”
Sebastian widened his eyes, unsure how to take the comment. You, on the other hand, just tried not to die of embarrassment, silently praying that the German was taking everything in stride.
“Not to doubt you two, but, you know… trust is a dangerous thing.”
You can say that again, you thought, remembering the man twelve years older than you who, during your entire winter break, had barely reached out more than twice with phone calls that didn’t even last five minutes.
"Well, I think it's best if we start heading out," Seb commented as he grabbed his jacket from the back of a chair. "Come on, Y/N," he said, taking your hand while waving goodbye to your family with the other. "We won't be late, I swear!"
Your sisters said their reluctant goodbyes, thinking the German was going to play with them. Meanwhile, Hans and Bernhard started making bets about what would really happen between the two of you that night.
Johanna was the only one who walked you to the door, carefully adjusting your coats, scarves, and hats as if she was your mother.
"Have fun, you two, you deserve it. And you, Seb, don't think you’re getting out of helping me tomorrow. You still have to teach me that lemon cake recipe you always say your mother makes."
"Don’t worry, Johanna," Seb replied while holding the door open for you. "I’m saving my morning for you and your cooking sessions."
The woman smiled, delighted to have the German around, and said goodbye to you once more.
As soon as you stepped outside, the cool night air hit your faces. You took a moment to inhale and exhale, relaxing and feeling, for the first time in a long while, free. More than anything, you felt like yourself. Seb walked beside you, unable to stop smiling, grateful to be in his best friend’s hometown, with you by his side, helping him get through the rough patch caused by his breakup with Hanna.
"Do you always blush that much around your family, or is it just when you have company?" Seb asked after a while, nudging you playfully with his shoulder while keeping his hands in his pockets.
"Don't start with that, Seb! You know I can be a little shy sometimes..."
"It's okay, I already knew that," he interrupted. "I think it's really cute when you blush."
"Sometimes you're unbearable, you know that?" you shot back, playfully.
"I know, but you love me anyway."
It wasn't a question, but a statement. One you couldn’t argue with because she completely agreed.
And that, more than comforting you, made you worry more and more about your relationship.
Despite the recent snowfall, the streets of Linz were busier than you had expected. The ice-skating rinks were packed, and to your surprise, the winter market stalls, forming a kind of fair that attracted people of all ages almost daily and which you loved visiting, were overflowing with people.
Although taking Seb there had been your original plan for his first day, you had decided to do something more intimate with him instead, something you hadn’t done in a long time, not even with Mark. However, you knew your relationship with the German was special enough to share something so personal with him without regretting it afterward.
"Since this is the first time you’ve come to visit me, I’ve put together a little tour so you can really get to know my city," you explained, looking at him. "That way, when you leave, you’ll know Linz as well as I do. And maybe, if one day you bring someone here..."
"You’re going to show me what tourists don’t usually get to see, aren’t you?" he interrupted. "I mean… promise me you’ll show me every last little corner, even the ones way out on the city outskirts. That could really come in handy someday."
"No problem. I’ll show you everything you want," you replied, flashing him a proud smile.
He laughed at your comment. Taking his hands out of his pockets, he awkwardly brushed his right hand against your left one. You blushed and tried to move it away, but Seb didn’t let you, he ended up taking your hand, not caring that you were just friends and that you had a boyfriend.
Because you were just that, friends. No matter how much he wanted it, he could never, in his life, date someone like you. Because while Mark was already a man with a clear path and a well-established career, he was just a twenty-something still learning from every mistake he made.
With your hands still intertwined, Sebastian’s gaze roamed the streets, the people, and the buildings surrounding them.
"This place is beautiful, and peaceful in its own way despite the bustle. I can see why you love it so much..."
You nodded, feeling your heartbeat speed up. Linz wasn’t the best city in the world, nor did it hold many good memories for you since your mother’s suicide and your sudden move to Spain. But, at the end of the day, it was your home, and hearing him appreciate it meant more to you than you could ever admit.
You walked in comfortable silence for a while, stopping every so often so you could point out your old school, your university, and even your favorite café, the one you used to go to when studying at your aunt and uncle’s house became too chaotic.
However, just as you were nearing the place you wanted to take Seb, he broke the silence with a question that, while not entirely unexpected, was the last thing she thought he would ask.
"How are things with Mark?"
The casual question made you slow your pace slightly before quickly recovering and catching up with Sebastian.
"They’re… fine," you said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "You know, the usual. He’s in London, I’m here, we call each other..."
Don’t lie to him, Y/N.
"And does that make you happy?"
"Yes, of course."
You wanted to tell Seb the truth, but you couldn’t.
This time, he was the one who needed support, not to listen to complaints and tears about a relationship with a questionable age gap and an even more questionable dynamic.
"And how are you doing after everything with Hanna?" you asked, changing the subject and hoping you hadn’t overstepped. "Ever since you called to tell me what happened, I’ve been worried, but I didn’t want to push..."
Seb’s expression darkened slightly. He let out a sigh that you were sure he had been holding in longer than he would’ve liked, staring straight ahead as you walked.
"We’re okay. I’m okay," he corrected himself. "Nothing weird happened or anything, it’s just that…" he trailed off, possibly choosing his words carefully before continuing. "We ended things amicably, you know? No hard feelings, no fights, nothing like that."
"Well, I’m glad to hear that," you replied, choosing your words carefully as well. "It caught me completely off guard because… I don’t know, it seemed like everything was fine. You two were together for three years…"
"Yeah, three pretty good years, but I think we realized we were only staying together because we were comfortable, because it was our routine, not because we actually loved each other." He paused, looking at you. "She never said it, and neither did I, but I get the feeling we wanted completely different things in life, and that was hurting us, even if we didn’t mean to."
"And that makes it even harder..."
"Exactly," he admitted, giving you a bittersweet smile. "But I feel like it was the right decision for both of us. It’s just that… making such a risky choice after thinking about it for so long, and wanting to do the right thing, is tough. Honestly, right now, being alone again is really difficult, but I guess it’s just a matter of time before I get used to it."
You didn’t know what to say, and you had no clue what deeper meaning lay behind Sebastian’s words.
"You won’t be alone, Seb," you managed to say, trying not to get nervous. "You have me."
He looked at you, his body relaxing slightly as your steps fell back into rhythm.
"I know. And, even if you don’t believe it, that means much more to me than you can imagine."
For a moment, nothing and no one else existed, just you. You stared at each other, lost in each other’s eyes, as thoughts raced through your minds. Thoughts that, if spoken aloud, would haunt them for the rest of your lives, shattering everything you knew and had between you.
It wasn’t until you cleared your throat and quickened your pace that the moment broke.
"Come on, we’re almost there. I have a reservation at seven, and I don’t want us to be late."
"Wherever you say, my dear tour guide," Seb replied.
After walking for a few more minutes, you stopped in front of a restaurant tucked away in a small alley. Sonnengarten, garden of the sun in German, was written at the top of the façade, painted in a warm yellow color. Along with the soft lights illuminating it directly and the hanging flower baskets, it invited people to step inside. The instrumental music playing, what seemed to be rock from the '60s and '70s, was the cherry on top.
“Well, here we are,” you said, visibly excited as she entered the restaurant.
Seb watched you, noticing the special sparkle in your eyes.
“Thanks for bringing me here. It’s obvious this place means a lot to you.”
“It does,” you nodded, a small smile on your lips. “My mother used to bring us here every weekend. We always switched up our orders because, well, we loved, and still love, trying new things, but my dad always ordered a schnitzel,” you explained with excitement. That only made Seb feel even more grateful that you had brought him to such a special place. “My sisters and I would always try to convince him to try something different and share some of our food, but he always refused and made up some silly excuse.”
“So, this is like… a sacred place for you, right?”
“Yes, very much so. But since my mom passed away, we haven’t come back. Actually, this is the first time in years that I’ve come here to eat…”
Your statement made Seb’s chest tighten. He knew how Rosalie, your mother, had died nearly eight years ago. He was fully aware of the impact it had on your life, which was precisely why he was more than grateful that you were sharing this detail, this part of your life, this seemingly important family tradition, with him.
His friend. His best friend.
“Really, Y/N, thank you for bringing me here,” the driver said sincerely.
Before you could respond, a middle-aged man appeared in front of you. He quickly approached you and hugged you, a gesture you gladly accepted.
“My dear Miss Y/L/N! It’s been so long, little one! You finally decided to come eat here again… it was about time!”
“I’m really happy to be back as a customer, Matthias,” you replied kindly.
The man’s eyes shifted to Sebastian, whom he openly scanned from head to toe. Once he recognized him, his eyes widened. After all, it was widely known in the city that Y/N Y/L/N was not only an intern for one of the most successful Formula 1 teams of the past year but also lucky enough to be working with one of the sport’s rising stars.
“Well, well, Sebastian Vettel!” the man exclaimed excitedly, offering his hand to the German, who shook it with a smile. “Are you two dating?” he asked curiously.
“No, no! He’s just a good friend of mine,” you said quickly, avoiding Seb’s gaze. “My… boyfriend,” you managed to say, barely containing youR embarrassment, “is the other Red Bull driver, Mark Webber.”
“Oh, well, no problem!” Matthias laughed heartily, giving Seb a friendly pat on the shoulder. “Any friend of our Y/N is a friend of ours. Now, come on, I’ll take you to the Y/L/N family table. I’ve been reserving it since Y/N told me she was coming.”
Sebastian observed you as the waiter led you to a table in a corner by a large window. You simply shrugged and smiled, feeling proud to see how happy and, most importantly, how at ease the boy seemed.
You couldn’t help but feel a little nervous and special at the same time when, before you could sit down, Seb pulled out the chair for you and pushed it in gently once you were seated.
“Well, Miss Y/L/N, I’ll be back in a bit with the dishes I know are your favorites. Enjoy your evening.”
The waiter winked at you and, once he was far enough away, you buried your face in your hands, utterly embarrassed by the scene you had just lived through.
“Oh god… I can’t believe he thought we were together,” you murmured. “Everyone here knows I’m with Mark…”
“Well, maybe they think we’d make a good couple.”
Seb laughed at his own comment, and you shot him a death glare, though it didn’t last long as the corner of your lips curved into a smile.
“Don’t start with that too.”
“I’m just joking, Y/N,” Vettel said with a satisfied grin. “Besides, if people think we’re together and we get, I don’t know, good tables like this one,” he pointed at their spot, “and free pastries like the ones the bakery lady gave me near your house today, I wouldn’t mind pretending we’re a couple.”
You rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the flicker of warmth that bloomed inside you as you imagined a hypothetical situation where you and Seb were together, where you shared more than just friendship.
“Well, I think it’s time we have a slightly more serious conversation, so no boyfriends, exes, or fake relationships,” you said as you leaned forward, resting your elbows on the table. “What’s the plan for this year? Do you think you can win the championship?”
“That’s the goal, my dear," he chuckled, pouring himself a glass of water and taking a sip. “For now, I think the car is good, and we have a strong team, but you know how things can go…”
“The important thing is that you have what it takes, Seb: talent and ambition.”
He smiled, a little shy at your compliment, and adjusted himself in his seat.
“So, you better be ready to put up with me every time you win,” you continued playfully.
“Only if you ditch Mark so we can celebrate properly.”
Sebastian immediately realized he might have messed up with that comment.
You, instead of responding, did your best to force a smile and act like you hadn’t heard what the German had just said.
“By the way…” the driver spoke carefully, knowing he might be treading on dangerous ground. “When are we going to plan something? I came here, but you know… plans like we used to make when we were at Toro Rosso and before you started dating Mark…”
You didn’t know what to say. You hesitated before answering, thinking about how things had changed since you were single and he was in a relationship with Hanna, who had always been wonderful to you and never minded Sebastian and you hanging out together. She had even tagged along on some of their outings, something that made you feel terribly guilty but, at the same time, too bad to refuse given how kind both of them were to you.
“I don’t know, Seb. Things are… complicated, different… It’s nothing you don’t already know.”
It’s obvious there are things Seb doesn’t know. Don’t fool yourself.
“Well, we’ll come up with something,” he replied, trying to believe his own words. “We could go out after a race, grab something to eat… Or, I don’t know, during the summer break I could take you to the karting track where I used to go as a kid and see Michael…”
You couldn’t keep listening because it hurt. The idea of doing such personal and meaningful things with Sebastian was difficult to process, especially considering you were dating Mark, and no matter how much you tried to talk to him about it, he wouldn’t take it well. You didn’t deserve that kind of attention, even though it was the only way someone had ever shown her… affection, love, or any of its variations. Mark had barely paid you any attention since you started dating, something you had noticed in other couples but had never experienced yourself.
Seb kept talking, but the sound of your phone ringing, a childish melody set by his sister Louisa, snapped you back to reality.
Your heart clenched when you saw Mark’s name on the screen.
Your stomach twisted, anxiety creeping in, the weight of everything you hadn’t told anyone, not even Seb, suddenly pressing down on you again, returning in full force as if it had never left, not even when Webber seemed to have forgotten about you.
“Are you going to answer?” Seb asked, tilting his head slightly as he noticed how doubtful you were.
You didn't move. You couldn't. You weren't ready to face a call from your boyfriend after weeks of not hearing from him, especially not in the situation you were in.
And even less so considering who you were spending time with at that moment, and how stubborn Mark had been about your relationship with Sebastian ever since you started dating, even knowing that you were, in reality, just very good friends.
“It’s just… It’s Mark,” was all you could whisper.
“And are you just going to let it ring? Come on, Y/N, he’s your boyfriend. It’s not like he’s going to kill you if you answer.”
“I’ll call him when we get home,” you swallowed hard, feeling your hands starting to sweat.
“Y/N,” Seb said, sounding more authoritative than he would have liked. “It’s just a call. What’s the worst that could happen?”
If only you knew...
“Come on, Y/N, pick it up. If he's calling, it must be important.”
Your fingers trembled slightly until you finally decided to press the answer button.
You forced a smile, even though the only thing you wanted to do at that moment was cry and tell Sebastian the whole truth. Instead, you put the phone to your ear and answered, trying your best to keep your voice steady.
“Hello, Mark…”
“Damn, it’s about time you answered. Do you mind telling me where you are? I’ve been trying to reach you for days and days, and you’ve just ignored me.”
It’s a lie, Y/N. He hasn’t called. He’s manipulating you because, once again, he’s forgotten about you...
“I’m out,” you replied, controlling everything you said while looking at Seb, who had started talking with Matthias. “I’m having dinner.”
“And who exactly are you with?” Mark asked disparagingly, totally suspicious of you.
You gripped the phone tightly and opened your mouth to respond with the first excuse that came to your mind. But before you could, Matthias started talking too loudly with your companion:
“You’re such a gentleman with our Y/N, Sebastian! Are you sure you’re just friends?”
“Just friends, Matthias, really,” Seb replied cheerfully, although alert to you, who seemed terrified.
“Sebastian? What exact Sebastian, Y/N?”
Your blood ran cold when you heard the aggressive tone Mark was using on the other end of the phone.
“Mark, it’s not what you think…”
“Who the fuck are you with, Y/N?” Mark exploded. Even Sebastian and Matthias, who were still talking, seemed to hear the yelling coming from the phone. “Are you with Sebastian Vettel? Is it the Sebastian Vettel I’m imagining?”
“Mark, please, let me explain…”
“Explain what?” the Australian's voice started getting louder and angrier. “That you went out to dinner with him as if that was the most normal thing in the world?”
Seb, noticing the sudden change in you, both in your mood and body language, became alert. He turned his attention back to the waiter, this time giving an excuse after he placed all the plates on their table so that he could leave and give you some privacy.
Your tense posture and the fact that you became so silent, just listening to what his teammate was saying on the other side of the line, didn’t go unnoticed by him, and he knew there was more between them than what his friend wanted him to know.
“Take good care of her, Sebastian. Y/N deserves the best.”
Seb smiled kindly at Matthias’s words, and his eyes followed him until he was far enough away. His eyes then returned to you.
Something wasn’t right, and it was creating a feeling of internal rage in Seb that he hadn’t felt in a long time.
“Mark, I’ll call you when I get home, okay? I don’t want…”
“So you’re with him, right?” the Australian spat, not letting her finish. “Sebastian Vettel... Out of all the damn people you could be with, you’re with him…”
“Mark, please… Let me explain…” You started, your words already bordering on pleading.
“Think about the kind of girlfriend you are, Y/N,” his voice, though calm now, you knew he was about to start throwing poisoned darts that would torment you in the weeks to come. “While I’m busting my ass working, training, doing everything I can to move the damn team forward, you’re out there with the guy you claim is your best friend, going on dates. How would you feel if it were the other way around, Y/N?”
“It’s not what you think,” you whispered, unable to control the tremor in your voice.
“Oh really? Then what is it? Because to me, it looks like you're acting with another man the way you should be acting with your boyfriend. How do you think that makes me feel, huh?”
Don’t believe his words, Y/N... He’s trying to convince himself that it’s your fault just because he’s ignored you for almost a month...
“Mark, he’s my best friend, and you’ve known that since before we started dating. I haven’t hidden it from you, just like I’m not hiding anything from you now.”
Sebastian, paying close attention to every word from you, felt his heart drop at what you had said, especially the tone you used.
You mattered to Sebastian, just as he mattered to you.
“I wouldn’t take a girl to the city I grew up in if she was just my best friend, leaving my girlfriend feeling like second best, but hey, to each their own…”
You sighed, unable to stop looking at Seb, hurt by the words Mark had just said, even though you convinced yourself, despite knowing you were lying to yourself, that the Australian cared about you enough to consider you a girlfriend.
Oh my God, Y/N, you haven’t even met his parents yet…
“You’re being unfair,” was all you could say.
“No, if anyone’s being unfair here, it’s you, Y/N,” replied Mark. “You’re selfish, and you think of no one but yourself.”
“I don’t want to keep talking about this, Mark…”
“Of course you don’t. Because you don’t want Seb to know what you’re really like,” Webber said harshly. “Maybe I should tell him myself. Do you think he’d believe me? Would he still want a bitch like you if he knew the real you?”
Your stomach dropped at what Mark had just said. You didn’t know what to say; you didn’t know how to contradict him because you knew it was impossible to make him think otherwise.
The worst part? Sebastian’s face went completely pale, which made you worry even more about what your friend might now think of you.
Without saying anything else, and while you still faintly heard the Australian’s reproaches, you ended the call, throwing the phone harshly on the table and unable to control your hands, which were shaking more and more.
“Y/N…” Seb spoke, unsure of how to approach the conversation he wanted to have with you about what had just happened.
“It’s... It doesn’t matter,” you corrected yourself. The last thing you wanted was for that heated conversation you had had with Mark to ruin your time with Seb, especially your stay with the German. “Let’s eat and let everything else rest, okay? I’ve been planning this for weeks, and I don’t want to ruin it because of a conversation that never should have happened.”
Seb didn’t seem entirely convinced by your words, and even less by your attitude. He knew you were broken inside at that moment, and nothing hurt him more than knowing he didn’t know how to help you.
“Y/N, if something’s wrong... you can tell me. You know that, right?”
You tried to force a smile again, but it was impossible. Instead, tears began to fall from your eyes, and no matter how hard you tried to control them, you couldn’t.
“It’s okay, Seb, it’s nothing. I swear.”
Lie to yourself if you want, but don’t lie to him.
“Really, Y/N... No matter what you need or when you need it, I’ll be here... You’re not alone, Y/N, okay? Come what may.”
You looked at your hands, now in Seb’s. His thumb was calmly rubbing over them, something Seb knew perfectly well relaxed you when you had anxiety, like now, when you felt on the edge of a panic attack; or at least, that’s what the constant feeling of suffocation you couldn’t shake off told you, no matter how hard you tried to control your breathing and especially promise yourself that everything would be fine.
Don’t be so dramatic, Y/N, Mark’s voice echoed in your head in such a scene, making you pull your hands from the table and hide them beneath it, embarrassed.
Sebastian sighed, knowing he wouldn’t stop trying to help you, no matter how reluctant you were. If you wanted to end the contact, so be it, but that didn’t mean he’d stop trying to make sure you were okay.
“I mean it, Y/N,” the guy insisted. “Whatever it is you’re going through, you don’t have to do it alone. You’re my best friend, and best friends are there to support each other. Just like you’re doing now, with me, with Hanna,” he added.
You looked up at him again, and your chest tightened. How could he be so noble with you? How was he able to say the words you needed to hear at every moment? With Mark, you felt small, as if you didn’t matter at all, but Seb... he made you feel like a princess straight out of a fairy tale, whose ending was still to be written.
“Thank you, Seb,” you murmured, unable to take your eyes off those blue eyes that so relaxed you. “For… everything.”
“You don’t have to thank me, Y/N. That’s what friends are for.”
You wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe that, unlike your boyfriend, if you even were, or ever had been, someone could care about you. You didn’t want to give your best friend false hopes, but the way he treated you, how it seemed like he cared...
Why did Seb make you feel like the most special person in the world when the person who was supposed to care about you the most didn’t even bother to try?
Sebastian Vettel knew you like the back of his hand, and that was exactly what scared you the most.
dios franco lpm no te juntes con pelotudos no aprendiste nada del evento de la china
Franco Colapinto with ex footballer Sergio Agüero at Alpine Hexagon Cup 2025, a padel show, in Madrid, Spain. 30th january, 2025 (Diario Marca)
White Noise | MV1
Max Verstappen x Reader
Summary: [Soulmate AU] In a world where soulmate marks promise connection, one person’s endless wait collides with another’s relentless pursuit of a life beyond destiny.
Warning(s): Mild Language, angst, hurt/comfort for like a small bit, fluff, for like tiny moment. Basically, they finally talk. Alternating povs.
Part 4 ~Series Masterlist~
"I've been the archer, I've been the prey, Screaming, who could ever leave me, darling?....But who could stay?"
Y/N's heart was racing, pounding in her chest like a drum, each beat reverberating through her entire body.
The moment she had stepped into the room, she felt it—the unmistakable pull, the presence of him. Her soul’s reaction was instantaneous, a thrumming sensation deep within her, filling the hollow space that had plagued her for as long as she could remember.
The pulse, the ringing in her ears, it was all him.
But this wasn’t supposed to happen. Not now. Not like this.
She had always thought, somehow, that she would be prepared for this moment, where she would have to finally confront him, but standing in the midst of a crowded party, the weight of everything crashing down on her, she wasn’t ready.
The memories of Bahrain flooded her mind—the first time she had felt it, the moment her heart had surged with desperation. But it had been too much.
She had run then, and now, she was running again.
Her feet carried her forward without her consent, an instinct she couldn’t stop. She had made it to the hallway, the coolness of the air helping to clear her head, but she knew, deep down, that he was following.
She could hear his footsteps, his voice rising above the noise of the party.
"Wait!"
His shout cut through her thoughts, piercing the air with urgency. His voice—his tone—was enough to make her stumble, her heart skipping, the sound of it thrumming in her chest, drowning everything else out.
"Stop, please."
The pleading, desperate tone sent a sharp tremor through her. She couldn’t explain why, but it was like an invisible thread pulling at her, urging her to turn around.
Her body seemed to act on its own, and before she could think, she was facing him, standing there in the hallway, his figure illuminated by the soft lights behind him.
Her breath caught in her throat as her gaze met his. His eyes were wide, searching—no, desperate, as he took a step closer, his presence magnetic, impossible to ignore.
He was right there. So close. Yet, the distance between them felt like an entire universe.
"Please, just let me talk to you. Once. Please."
The sincerity in his voice was enough to steal the air from her lungs.
She had tried so hard to block out the pull, the ache deep inside of her, but hearing that one word—please—it undid everything.
It made her pause, made her stand still. It was as though the universe had stopped just for this moment, just for him to speak those words, those two simple syllables that somehow held the weight of a thousand unspoken things.
For a moment, she couldn’t find her voice. The bond, the overwhelming pull of their connection, was like a storm inside her.
She could feel her pulse in every part of her body, an unbearable rhythm that matched the frantic thrum of her thoughts.
Why is this happening now?
The question spun in her mind, but she didn’t have the answers. She didn’t want to have the answers. Not yet. Not when she had worked so hard to push this all away.
But as his eyes searched hers, she realized there was no denying it anymore. She couldn’t pretend anymore.
He was here, in front of her, and that was something she had to face.
This isn’t a game, her mind whispered to her. This is real.
She swallowed, trying to steady her breath, but her heart wouldn’t let her. The sound of it, so loud, so clear in her ears, only seemed to grow louder the longer she stood there, staring at him.
He took a cautious step forward, as though unsure whether to approach or wait for her permission.
Y/N could see the hesitation in his posture, the way his muscles were tense, ready to react to whatever she might do next.
She nodded almost imperceptibly, a gesture that was barely there but enough to give him the signal.
Slowly, she turned and began walking down the hallway, her heels clicking sharply against the polished floors.
She heard his footsteps behind her, closer now, a steady rhythm that matched the pounding in her chest.
She wasn’t sure if it was because of the bond or the weight of the moment, but it felt as though the air around her was thickening, pressing down on her, making it harder to breathe.
The hallway seemed to stretch endlessly, but Y/N didn’t stop walking until she reached a door at the far end, a small storage room that had been used to store event supplies. It was tucked away from the bustling party, isolated, quiet—perfect for what needed to happen next.
Without looking back, she pushed the door open and stepped inside. The room was dimly lit, boxes and supplies stacked haphazardly against the walls. The space smelled faintly of cardboard and dust, but Y/N didn’t care. She needed this isolation. She needed to clear her head, even if just for a moment.
The door clicked shut behind her, and she finally turned to face him.
Max stood just inside the doorway, his hand on the handle as if he was still unsure whether to cross the threshold completely. His expression was a mix of determination and uncertainty, and she could feel the weight of his gaze on her, like it was pulling at her from all directions.
He stepped forward then, his presence filling the small space between them.
Her eyes flickered to him, then quickly down to the floor. She couldn’t meet his gaze for too long, not yet. Not when she was still so terrified of what this meant.
Max didn’t speak right away. He just stood there, close but still holding back, waiting for her to say something, to give him some sort of sign that she was ready to talk.
But all she could do was breathe—deep, steadying breaths, trying to calm herself down. The pulse in her chest was almost deafening. She knew that she had to speak, there was no turning back now.
But still, she hesitated.
Max shifted on his feet, the tension in his posture thick, as if he was about to break, but he held himself together—barely. His fingers were twitching at his sides, and he felt the hum deep in his chest, a gnawing ache that wouldn’t subside.
He cleared his throat, the sound breaking the heavy silence like a crack in a wall. "Max," he said, his voice rough, but it wasn’t the authoritative tone he used in the paddock, or the smooth calm of someone used to dealing with media.
This was Max—vulnerable, unsure. The kind of Max who didn’t often show himself.
"Max Verstappen," he added, as though his name should mean something, though he already knew it wouldn’t. Not with the way she ran from him.
Y/N didn’t react, not right away. Her eyes were fixed on the floor, her arms crossed over her chest, a protective shield she had built up over the years and didn’t dare lower. She wasn’t sure what would happen if she did.
Max couldn’t help himself; he took a step closer, the pull drawing him forward as though the space between them was shrinking. But she didn’t move, her gaze still locked downward, her posture as stiff as steel.
"I don’t bite," he added with a half-smile, though it was strained, the humor barely there. He tried to make light of it, but it wasn’t working. The tension was too thick, the pulse between them too strong, too loud in his ears.
She remained silent, the words staying on the tip of her tongue. Why was he still here? Why couldn’t he leave her be?
He pressed on, the silence growing unbearable. His frustration was creeping in, and he didn’t bother hiding it. "You’re not gonna run again, are you? I don’t know what the hell happened back there, but this..." He gestured between them, his hands opening slightly, his frustration flaring.
"This can’t be a mistake. I felt it, and I know you did too." His words came out blunt, as direct as he could manage, with no filters, no hesitation.
Y/N’s lips pressed together, and she took in a slow breath, but the words didn’t come. She wasn’t sure what to say. She wasn’t sure if she was allowed to say anything.
She could feel the pulsing, the hum, the ache in her bones, her chest, her heart. It was all him. But how could she acknowledge it?
"Why did you run?" Max’s voice cracked just slightly as he asked, the vulnerability that he rarely showed slipping through.
He didn’t wait for an answer, though. He knew. He felt it.
"You think I’m just some guy in a hotel room, shaking hands with sponsors, a guy who just races for a living, and that’s all I am? You think that’s all I can be?" His voice softened, but the frustration was still there, curling around his words like smoke. "I don’t even know your name, but I can’t... I can’t just let you run away again."
Y/N’s breath hitched at his words. There was a bite in his voice now, a quiet hurt that she couldn’t ignore. It stung, sharp and unexpected.
Max took another step, his eyes locking on hers, desperate for something—anything—that would help him understand this.
But all he found was cold, detached silence. It was like hitting a wall, and yet, somehow, that wall was cracking, just a little, with each second that passed. He could feel it in his chest, in the air between them.
"Are you just going to stay silent?" he asked, frustration giving way to a tinge of sadness.
"Is that how you’re going to play this? Because I can’t stand it. I want us to talk, to figure this out, I've waited so long. I—" He stopped, realizing how much he was saying, how exposed he had become. He had never been this open with anyone. Not like this.
Y/N’s gaze flicked up then, just briefly, her eyes meeting his. The connection between them flickered, a brief, sharp spark that ignited everything inside him. She was silent, but in her eyes, he saw something.
Fear. Anger. And beneath that, a thread of longing—a recognition.
“I’m not going to run,” she finally said, her voice firm, but with a quiver beneath the surface. Her words were clipped, like they were hard to get out, like they didn’t fit the situation.
She had never been good at this. At feeling things, at letting herself feel things that weren’t controlled. But here she was. Here.
Max’s expression softened, but only just. He could see through her, even if she tried to hide it. He could see the cracks in her facade, the way she was breaking just a little with every word, every silence.
“Then what are you going to do?” he asked, almost desperate now. He stepped closer again, close enough that the hum between them seemed to pulse with an intensity that made his heart race.
He could feel the gravity between them, the pull, the ache. And it was growing. She was so close—so close but still, so far.
She met his gaze fully now, the stone wall that she’d built around herself finally starting to crumble, piece by piece. The look in her eyes was something Max had never seen before—not in the paddock, not in the chaos of the races, not in the heat of victory. This was something else.
______________________________
Max’s eyes were still on her, searching for something, maybe an answer that would make sense of all the chaos inside her, but there was no easy way to explain this. No way to simplify what had become a tangled mess of emotions and realities.
She couldn't make this easy for him. She knew that, deep down. But it didn’t make the truth any less painful.
"I know you, Max," she started, her voice quiet but steady, though every word felt like it was scraping against her throat. "I know what you’ve worked for. The way people look at you, the expectations, the pressure."
Her chest tightened with the weight of her thoughts, and she couldn’t look away from him, even though she wanted to. “You’ve been built for this life. Racing, winning, being the best. You’ve been molded for the world you live in, Max. And you’ve made it, you’ve fucking made it. I see that. I admire it. I admire you."
She closed her eyes for a moment, swallowing the lump that had lodged in her throat, feeling the bitter taste of regret already creeping in. "But you don’t understand. I can’t be a part of it. Not with you."
Max flinched slightly, and she could see the hurt flash across his face. She wasn’t trying to hurt him, but it was inevitable. There was no way around it. Her words cut deeper than she intended.
"I know the Max Verstappen the world sees.” She swallowed, her throat tight. “But I don’t know you. Not the man standing in front of me. Not the man who is supposed to be my soulmate.”
Max inhaled sharply, his hands twitching at his sides like he wanted to reach for her. But he didn’t. Not yet.
“I waited for you too, you know?" Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it cracked under the weight of the words. “For years, I waited. At first, it was hope. Every birthday, every trip, every new place—I looked for you. I searched for something, anything, that could mean you were close. And then… hope turned into anger. Because you weren’t there. And I was supposed to be okay with that?” She shook her head. “I was supposed to live my life knowing the person meant for me was out there but nowhere near me?”
Max’s jaw clenched, the muscle in his cheek twitching.
“And then the anger faded too. And all that was left was... indifference.” She met his gaze then, unwavering.
“Because I had to move on. I had to build something for myself. I had to be enough for myself. For me”
She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “And I did it. I built a life, Max. A life that didn’t need a soulmate to feel complete. A life that I carved out with my own two hands, while people pitied me for never finding you. While they whispered that I would never be whole.” Her voice hardened.
“But I proved them wrong. I am whole. I have my business. My work. A life that makes sense, a life that I control.”
Her hands trembled again, and this time she didn’t bother hiding them. She looked at him, at the storm in his eyes, at the way his lips pressed into a thin line, at the way he was fighting—really fighting—not to interrupt her.
“And now, suddenly, you’re here.” Her voice was raw now, like it had been scraped against glass. “Just when I finally have a grasp on everything, you appear and you expect me to throw all of it away? Just because the fucking universe says we’re meant to be?”
Max flinched, just barely.
“How do you know we’ll make it, Max?” She demanded. “You race. I work. You live in the spotlight, I built my life in the shadows. You chase adrenaline, I crave steadiness. Our lives are nothing alike.” She exhaled, her breath shaky. “And then there’s the fans. The media. The circus that follows you wherever you go. How am I supposed to handle that? How do we fit, Max? How can we?”
Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.
She licked her lips, voice quieter now. “I’ve spent my whole life proving that I don’t need another person to be whole. That I don’t need someone to complete me. And now you’re asking me to risk all of that… for the idea of you?”
She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling. “How am I supposed to do that?”
Her words hung in the air between them, heavy and unrelenting. She could see it in his face—the hurt, the frustration, the determination.
____________________________
Max let the silence stretch, let her words settle deep in his bones. He felt each one like a weight pressing against his ribs—sharp, heavy, relentless. But he didn’t move, didn’t waver.
Because she was here. Because she hadn’t run.
And because she was wrong.
His voice, when it came, was quiet but steady. “You say you don’t know me. And you don’t.” His gaze was unwavering. “But I don’t know you either.”
Her breath caught.
“And yet,” Max continued, taking a slow step closer, “I do.”
She tensed, but she didn’t retreat.
“I know how you walked into that room, completely composed, completely in control—until you saw me. I know the exact second you felt it, the moment the ground tilted under your feet, the way your eyes widened, just a fraction, before you turned and.. left.” His tone was measured, deliberate. “I know you’re standing here right now because you want to be, even if you don’t want to admit it.”
Her fingers twitched by her sides, barely perceptible.
Max took a step forward, slow, measured, like approaching something fragile. “You talk about waiting for me, about searching for me, about how hope turned into anger, then nothing at all.” His voice hardened. “Do you think I don’t understand that? Do you think I didn’t feel the same fucking thing?”
She inhaled sharply.
“I grew up knowing I had someone out there. Someone I was supposed to find. And I hated it.” His jaw tensed. “Because how the hell was I supposed to look for someone when my entire life was planned before I could even fucking walk?”
He let out a humorless laugh. “I didn’t have time to search, Y/N. I didn’t have the luxury. I had racing. I had pressure. I had expectations so heavy they nearly crushed me before I was old enough to understand them. I was too busy proving I deserved to be where I was.” His voice turned rough, honest. “And I did it alone.”
“You say I wasn’t there for any of it.” His voice lowered.
“Neither were you.”
She flinched and Max felt his heart break a little.
His tone softened. “You don’t know if we’re meant to be together, and you know what? Maybe we’re not.” He shrugged.
“Maybe we’ll fucking hate each other. Maybe you’ll get sick of me in a month, and I’ll drive you insane. But we don’t know that.” He exhaled. “What we do know is that this is real. It's in our bones, inked on our fucking skin, in the way our hearts have been beating for years, this bond—this is real.”
Silence.
Her lips parted like she wanted to argue, wanted to deny it, but no words came out.
Max studied her, eyes searching. “You think this is going to destroy the life you built.” A beat of silence. “Maybe it will.”
Her head snapped up, eyes flashing, but he wasn’t done.
“Or maybe it’ll make it better.” His voice was quiet, but sure. “Maybe you’ll finally let yourself have something that isn’t just work, something that isn’t just proving yourself over and over again to people who don’t matter."
He held her gaze, unwavering. "The truth is, no one knows how this will work. There’s no plan for this. No blueprint. But that doesn’t mean we walk away.”
Her eyes burned into his, searching, dissecting.
Max took a final step closer, his voice barely above a whisper now. “That doesn't mean we have to give up our chance—our realest fucking chance to be happy, I'm not asking you to throw your life away for me” He shook his head. “I want you to let me be part of it.”
Something cracked in her gaze.
________________________
The tear catches her by surprise.
She feels it before she registers it, the slow slide of warmth trailing down her cheek, an undeniable crack in the armor she had spent years perfecting.
And then—Max is there.
His hand moves before he thinks, his thumb brushing against her skin, wiping it away. The touch is featherlight, a whisper of warmth against her cheek—
And the bond pulses.
Loud. Violent. Consuming.
A shockwave of something unseen, something ancient, something theirs rips through them, and the force of it takes them both down.
Y/N stumbles, her knees buckling, but she never hits the floor.
Max is there—solid, unyielding, his reflexes faster than thought.
His arms catch her, cradle her, steady her as they both collapse onto the cold, dusty floor of the storage room.
And then—silence.
It isn’t tense. It isn’t heavy. It just is.
Her head rests against his chest, the rapid beat of his heart a perfect mirror to her own. His arms are around her, firm but careful, holding her close in a way that feels like he’s meant to.
And the bond—the bond hums.
Not a pulse, not a roar, just a steady, gentle hum. A soundless lullaby. A sigh of relief.
Y/N exhales, her breath ghosting over his suit, and for the first time in her life, she feels content. She doesn’t think. She doesn’t fight it.
She just is.
Her body curls instinctively into his, her forehead pressing against his chest, her fingers gripping lightly at his jacket as she burrows closer. It’s unconscious, inevitable. A pull she can’t deny.
Max feels it too.
His hold tightens, his grip shifting just slightly as he tucks her in closer. His heartbeat steadies, aligning with hers. His breath slows. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move—just holds her, lets her be held.
And in that moment, on the cold, dirty floor of some forgotten storage room, Max Verstappen knows exactly what paradise feels like.
Then—
The illusion shatters.
Y/N’s eyes snap open. The warmth turns to ice in an instant, her body going rigid against his.
Max feels the shift the moment it happens. The way she stiffens, the way her breath hitches like she’s just remembered something terrible.
And then—she pulls away.
Like she can’t get away fast enough.
Max feels it like a physical blow.
She scrambles to her feet, her movements sharp, almost frantic, as she wrangles her hands together, fingers twisting against each other—a nervous tic, he realizes. An anxiety response.
He gets up slower, brushing dust from his sleeves, forcing his breath to stay even, forcing himself to stay.
Silence stretches between them.
This time, it isn’t peaceful.
This time, it’s awkward. Tense. Something lingering between them, something neither of them can name, something neither of them can face.
Y/N is the first to break it.
Her voice is quiet, but firm. “Time, Max.”
A pause.
“I need time.”
And then she turns, and walks away.
Max is left standing there.
The hum in his chest—so loud, so certain just moments ago—fades into something hollow, something aching.
She’s gone.
The warmth of her body, the perfect way she fit against him, the peace he had never known—ripped away as if it had never been real.
He lets out a breath, slow and shaky, like he’s trying to steady himself on the edge of something devastating.
He had her.
For a second, for a fleeting, impossible moment, Max Verstappen had everything.
And now—
Now, he has nothing.
________________________________________
Thank you for reading!
If you liked this part, please leave a like a comment and a reblog!
Well, well, well, what do you think is going to happen next? This took out alot from me. I'm the type of woman who feels that I don't need a man to complete me. And yet, I yearn for love so much, that it hurts. So maybe I'm pouring a bit of myself into this. I can only hope that you all like it.
Jules♡
Taglist: @anamiad00msday @evie-119 @that-one-little-soybean @six-call @stressed-cherry @il0vereadingstuff @whatevenisthisxxxxx @freyathehuntress @nina-or-anna-or-nora @allthings-fandoms @larastark3107 @myescapefromthislife @wertyuizxcvbnm @halleest @hs2016 @lucyysthings @justaf1girl @bernelflo @mendes-bae @chelseyyouraverageluigi @llando4norris @sid-is-gr8 @henna006 @hurtblossom @quinquinquincy @ts1mp0ne @spidercat-soccerfan @kodzuvk @wherethefuckisthething @hellowgoodbye @prttylight @l4ndonorizz @edgyficuselastica @k-kaliop @charlesgirl16 @chloes-book-corner @1mverstappen @inchidentofftrack @blackmage24 @angelluv16 @alice-went-away @teamnovalak @wierdflowerpower
I HATE THE NEW RULES WTF IS THIS, FIA YOU'RE THE WORST I HATE U
hii could you write something about lewis very fluffy?? idk like their morning together or their night routine 🤍 from @prttylight
lewis hamilton x gf!reader
The intoxicating smell of fresh herbs blending together for dinner greets Lewis as he arrives home after a long day of meetings. Shrugging off his coat, he rounds the hallway corner, stopping to lean against the entryway and watching you.
You are unaware of his presence, having missed the sound of the door opening and closing, too busy listening to a podcast while making soup for dinner. He watches you for a bit before coming up behind you, snaking his arms around your waist and startling you.
“Hi, sweetheart,” he says, pressing a kiss against your temple.
“Hi, Lew,” you reply, turning to smile up at him. “How was your day?”
“Busy,” he answers simply. “How was yours?”
You shrug, turning back to the pot in front of you. “Productive, for the most part.”
“Good,” he mumbles against your neck, not wanting to let go. Lewis is a very clingy man, especially behind closed doors.
“Why don’t you go change? Dinner will be ready when you’re back,” you suggest, and he reluctantly lets go, heading into the bedroom.
He returns just as you’re ladling the soup into bowls and setting them on the table.
As Lewis sits down, you can’t help but notice how his eyes light up at the sight of the steaming bowls in front of him. He reaches for your hand across the table, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“This looks amazing, love. Thank you,” he says, his voice warm with appreciation.
You smile back, feeling a flutter in your chest at his words. “You’re welcome. I hope you like it.”
As you both begin to eat, Lewis tells you more about his day, the meetings he had, and the plans for the upcoming race weekend. You listen intently, offering words of encouragement and support. It’s these quiet moments together that you cherish the most, away from the cameras and the public eye.
After dinner, Lewis insists on doing the dishes, shooing you away to relax. You curl up on the couch with a book but find yourself watching him instead, admiring the focus and concentration he has for something so simple. Your eyes trail from his face to his toned body, and you get lost in the view, only pulled back to reality when you hear him clear his throat.
“You’re staring,” he muses, and you smirk.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” you tease, and he lets out a small laugh.
He grabs his own book off the shelf and joins you in the living room. You sit up to make space for him, and he pulls a pillow onto his lap so you can lie back down comfortably.
He interrupts your reading every so often to tell you about something interesting he’s come across, and you’re amused by how excited he gets. Once it gets later in the night, you yawn, and Lewis immediately closes his book.
“Shower, then bed?” he suggests, and you nod sleepily.
You follow him into the bathroom, stripping off your clothes as he gets the shower ready.
The warm water cascades over your bodies as you step into the shower together. Lewis gently massages shampoo into your hair, his fingers working out the tension from the day. You lean into his touch, sighing contentedly.
“Turn around,” he murmurs, and you comply. He begins to wash your back, his strong hands kneading your muscles. You can’t help but let out a soft moan of pleasure.
“Feel good?” he asks, a hint of amusement in his voice.
“Mmhmm,” you respond, too relaxed to form words.
After rinsing off, you return the favor, washing Lewis’s back. He closes his eyes, savoring your touch.
Once clean, you both step out of the shower, wrapping yourselves in fluffy towels. Lewis pulls you close, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.
“I love you,” he whispers, staring deeply into your eyes.
“I love you too, and I love nights like these,” you reply softly.
You dry off and change into comfortable pajamas, Lewis opting for just a pair of sweatpants.
In the bedroom, you climb into bed, immediately snuggling close to Lewis as he wraps an arm around you. He traces lazy patterns on your skin with his fingertips, the gentle touch soothing you toward sleep.
SEND REQUESTS FOR FRANCO SMAUS I WANT TO MAKE MY FIRST FRANCO FIC AND I ENDED UP HATING THE ONE I WAS MAKING
Naeve camino de manera sigilosa por los pasillos iluminados por velas, entre sus brazos una pequeña bola de pelos se asomaba aunque sus ojos lastimados no le permitían ver mucho estaba tan agotado que no podía defenderse. Lo último que quería la joven era lastimarlo. Entró a su habitación en silencio esperando que nadie estuviera adentro.
La bolita de pelos hizo un pequeño maullido.
—Shh, prometo limpiarte y curarte, solo espera un poco—susurro Naeve hacia el bollo que cargaba.
—¿Con quién hablas?—una voz hizo que la joven se congelara, su esposo, la persona que menos quería ver en esta situación.
—Estaba hablando sola—respondió Naeve sin darse la vuelta, e intentó distraer al pelinegro—¿Cómo te fue hoy? ¿Hiciste algo interesante?
Kylo se dirigio hacia el sofá de la habitación, los pasos pausados hicieron que quisiera salir corriendo. Estaba segura que si su esposo descubria que había traido un pequeño animalito, sucio y lastimado lo mandaría directo con los curanderos y ella nunca lo volvería a ver.
—Solo estuve entrenando, fue un día muy caluroso y los chicos estaban muy vagos, realmente me agotan cuando toma esa actitud—contó Kylo sacándose las botas—Por cierto, ¿que tienes en los brazos?
Naeve se dio la vuelta y con una sonrisa.
—¿Esto? Es una manta. Justo estaba por mandarla a lavar—explicó mostrando una punta, su habitación era una zona insegura para el gato, por lo que decidió que lo mejor era dejar al minino en el baño de invitados y de paso ir a buscar los elementos necesarios para limpiarlo y curarlo.
—Naeve, ¿que está bajo la manta?
Kylo detuvo a la joven, agarrándola por la muñeca quien bufo.
—¿No puedes al menos fingir que no te das cuenta de algo?
Kylo se paró y cruzó los brazos.
—No, no puedo fingir cuando se que algo está mal y menos si se trata de ti—Naeve frunció el ceño—¿Es un animal? ¿Te ha lastimado?
Kylo intentó tocar el bollo temblando en sus brazos pero Naeve se alejó.
—No hay nada mal conmigo, tampoco estoy lastimada—camino hacia el baño privado y cerró la puerta con su pie, sin embargo el pelinegro ni siquiera dejó que la puerta golpeara e interrumpio en el baño. Apoyo el bollo en el piso y desenvolvio las mantas, el mínino estaba temblando y también sus ojos llorosos lastimados estaban cristalizados. A Naeve se le rompió el corazón.
—Amor, si está lastimado es mejor que lo lleves…
—Kylo, si pretendes que devuelva este gato sin estar antes sano, te recomiendo salir de la habitación antes de que me enoje en serio—por los siguientes minuto solo se escucho el agua que corría en la bañera, los quejido del gatito que con un paño húmedo Naeve intentaba limpiar y los consuelos de la joven.
—Ya, ya. No te preocupes, pequeñín. Te cuidare.
Cuando el baño terminó, la bola de pelos estaba maullando y tratando de subirse a los brazos de la joven, quien no dudó en abrazarlo dándole besitos en la cabecita. El pelaje del animal estaba limpio y las heridas que tenía no eran tan profundas como pensó. Ya era de noche cuando salió del baño, Kylo estaba en el sofá leyendo algunos papeles y levantó la mirada cuando noto la presencia de Naeve. Sin embargo esta ni siquiera le correspondió, y agarró uno de sus pijamas de verano doblandolo y poniéndolo bajo su brazo, justo al pequeño minino quien cuando noto la tela tan exquisita decidió que seria el juguete perfecto para morder.
—Naeve…
—Dormire en la habitación de invitados, si necesitas algo…
—Naeve, no es necesario—habló Kylo dejando los papeles a un lado—El gato… puede dormir aquí.
La joven se detuvo.
—¿En serio?—el pelinegro asintió—Bien…
Sinceramente Kylo pensaba deshacerse del gato apenas estuviera en condiciones de ser adoptado; no quería animales, nunca había tenido deseos de ello. Pero Naeve se veía tan linda cuidando de esa bola de pelos que se arrepintio de sus pensamientos.
Fue asi, como Naeve y Kylo, tuvieron a su primera mascota juntos.
For my Sebastian Anon, I hope you enjoy! Requests are open, so Ask away!! (This is from Charles's POV/Sebastian's POV)
To say that Sebastian had attempted to not drive the boys mad was... A statement that could be made... Was it truthful? No. Not in any source of the word. From the moment Charles began suggesting things to do, Sebastian would interject with comments on how Y/N would have loved doing it. Had Charles not been dealing with this behavior for a week from Sebastian, he would have thought it was cute that his mentor was this in love. Right now, it was just annoying Charles. But he was trying his hardest not to lose his mind as he quickly glanced at his phone wondering if Y/N had checked her messages yet. Sadly, she hadn't. Charles was still on delivered. "I need help..." Charles mumbled.
With the message sent to Lewis, Charles prayed to whoever was listening that Lewis could help him. Or, at least provide Sebastian with more than Charles was currently doing. Y/N still hadn't read her message, and Charles was trying not to panic about that. If Sebastian wasn't panicking about Y/N yet, it meant that he had been in touch with her recently. He certainly didn't want to ask if Sebastian was talking to her. He didn't want to open that can of worms. Yet, life didn't feel the same. It wanted to torture Charles.... (SEB POV) Sebastian sighed as he turned to Charles, unaware of the two conversations that Charles had while he was lost in his thoughts about Y/N and what she was doing without him while he was stuck racing on her birthday. He was usually so good about celebrating her birthday with her before the races, if one was scheduled. But time had simply got away from Sebastian this time. It made him feel soo small. "Do you think Y/N will forgive me for being away? I know I got her gifts, balloons, flowers... But it's not the same as being here with me, or there with her, you know?" Sebastian asked Charles. Seemingly forgetting who he was speaking too. It was Charles, the chronically single member of the grid. Well, that was a lie, but Sebastian wasn't in the right state of mind to focus on it. "Oh mon Dieu" Charles exclaimed, making Sebastian arch his eyebrow as he looked down at the young Monégasque driver. Slightly offended by Charles's reaction. "It's a valid question! I am here! She is there!" It was at this moment that Sebastian's phone went off making him look down, his eyes growing wide as a smile spread across his face and his fingers quickly tapped against the screen to open the message
Part 3?! Or end it here?!
odio a milei, odio a trump, odio a la fia, odio a la ultraderecha y odio tener que compartir mundo con ellos.
summary: charles gives you an ultimatum.
pairing: carlos sainz x fem! leclerc! reader
୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ
When Carlos overtook Charles you knew he was racing purely for himself. You both knew it could be his last podium, and maybe, just maybe, he didn’t want to share it with his teammate. It just sucked that his teammate was your brother.
Charles had never been good at sharing when it came to racing, but he was a Ferrari driver through and through, he’d be a team player if he had t, and they were boh supposed to be team players. Carlos was done with it, and you understood why. He’d been second to Charles his entire time at Ferrari, second to Max in Toro Rosso, ousted by Danny Ric in Renault, and now he’d be in Williams. He was sick of being seen as less than his teammates, when, if he had that same backing they did, he could’ve been a World Champion.
You waited at the barricade for the both of them, not quite sure how they would react. Charles came out first, you’d heard his radio message.
He walked over to Alexandra with a sigh. “It’s such bullshit,” he scoffed. Then his eyes met yours. “You have to make a choice now, and it isn’t about love. It’s about blood, it’s about dad. He’s not welcome in our home. He’s not fucking welcome at Christmas, at birthdays, ever. You need to pick.”
You stared at him for a moment. He’d never been so harsh. He’d never given you an ultimatum before. Alexandra looked at you, concerned. “Charles, no. That’s not fair-”
“You’re not in this conversation,” he quipped. “Y/n. Choose.”
“Don’t talk to her like that-”
“Y/n,” Carlos was in front of you, looking at you, practically pleading with you to choose him. You loved him, he loved you. Charles was your brother.
You looked at your brother. “Carlos,” you said, your voice strong and clear. Carlos wrapped his arms around you as you stared at Charles. He nodded, his lips a line, before he walked off.
“Thank you,” he whispered against your skin. You could feel the mix of sweat and tears against your neck. He pulled back with a smile. “Thank you. I love you.”
You smiled, tears welling up in your eyes. “Congratulations,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I love you too.”
If Carlos had taught you one thing, it was that love shouldn’t hurt. Charles hurt you time and time again, always playing the older brother card whenever he wanted you to do something. Carlos never did that. He actually loved you.
He wiped the tears off your cheeks as they fell, “We’ll work it out,” he promised you. “I’ll speak to him.”
You shook your head. “Enjoy tonight my love,” you smiled. “You’re a winner. I love you.”
He offered a gentle smile. “I love you too.”
You’d figure it out. Together.
୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ
navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)
im SURE Anakin likes to be hugged, and I would love to hug him.