Pp

Pp

absolutely fucking incredible

If I lose my mind | Ch. 7

Series summary: When life has given you more than enough lemons and you cannot figure out how to make a lemonade, the only way to make it work is to get rid of the whole basket. But was it neccesary to send you to a whole different dimension for that? A juicer would have done the job, really. Or, one day you go to sleep as a normal person and the next you wake up as a Formula One driver. You've never been a fan but isn't it like, one of the most exclusive sports? Pairing: CL16, LH44, CS55, DR3 x fem!reader Chapter: Previous | Next Word Count: 2.8k Also on AO3

You do win a few positions in the French Grand Prix, after hours of driving in circles under the scorching sun. Two to be exact, from a P15 to a P13. It is true that being thirtieth does not grant you any points and of course not a trophy, you will have to wait a bit more to acquire those milestones in your career, but it is not like anybody cares much about that either. The most important thing, as you have come to understand after talking to the team, is that you have yet again managed to beat your teammate. That detail is sometimes even more valuable for your career than a couple points —although the team would really appreciate a couple of them.  

It was an easy feat for that week’s race anyway. Mick ran straight into the gravel on lap 23, his car ramming with such force into the barriers that it no longer looks like a Formula One car when it is towed back to the garage. He was pushing the limit, that is for sure, trying his best to surpass another driver named Ocon while also controlling his pace for the long race still ahead... until he wasn’t.  

It is scary to witness, the way his car reaches its limits and goes crazy, the steering wheel spinning out of control while Mick can do nothing but pray that the crash won’t be fatal, that he won’t get hurt. It is even scarier to think that you are putting yourself in that position for the third week in a row now,  clueless about what is happening or if this is even the real world, but still allowing a group of unknown people to play dress up with you and strap you down into that car again and again. 

“Hey, where are you going? To the briefing?” Carlos flags you down in your walk through the main street of the paddock, his voice loud in the almost empty space. It is still too early for the photographers and guests to be roaming around, gift shops and restaurants completely deserted save for the workers preparing for the worst day of the weekend. It is nice to see, honestly. 

The scenery has undergone a big change, the huge terraces and open-air spaces of the French paddock long forgotten and replaced with cosier restaurants in preparation for the harsh weather forecast for Hungary’s Grand Prix. Your subconscious is clearly working overtime to fool you into believing this is reality. 

Carlos, Charles and another man are seated in one of the few tables set outside the Ferrari motorhome, relaxing with some coffee and snacks. “Yeah? Are you not?” you respond with furrowed eyebrows, your speed faltering since you see them making no effort to rush their meal and get to a driver’s meeting that started ten minutes ago. 

Instead, Carlos beckons you with a gesture of his hand, a cheeky grin pulling at his lips when he simply tells you to “Come over for a second”.  

A request that you confusedly fulfill with a last look at your watch.  

The driver stretches a hand out to you when you near the group, leaning back into his chair as he looks up at your approaching figure. By sheer instinct, you hold your arm towards the driver as well, placing your hand in his open one when you are close enough to do so. Carlos’ smile grows the littlest bit at that, his fingers closing around yours to get you to walk that much closer to his seat. 

An interaction that does not pass unnoticed by the rest of the table. 

“You don’t have this meeting or...?” you repeat your question, gaze flying to where the building you were running to hides, and then back to the crinkling eyes of the Ferrari driver. 

The pair lets the unknown man at the table fill you in “It’s delayed until nine, they sent an email a while ago”, his Spanish accent shining through his words. He must be Carlos’ guest, the absence of any Ferrari merch making him stand out in the middle of the red decoration and the two team drivers. No pass is hanging from his neck though, he might indeed be part of the team. “Didn’t Nick tell you?” 

Oh, and he knows Nick too? 

“Seriously? No, he didn’t...” you murmur, taking your phone out from your pocket with your free hand and looking through your unread messages, can’t believe you have literally run across the paddock for a meeting that won’t start for another half an hour at least “I was meeting him there.” 

Before you can start sulking, Carlos steals your attention with a squeeze of your hand “Well, then you have nothing to do, right?”, standing up from his chair to lend it to you before you can get an answer out. The Spanish driver uses his hold on your hand to direct you down onto the seat —much like he had done just a week ago, you are glad to at least know his name this time—, looking down at you with an accomplished expression when he succeeds “I’m going to go get you something. You didn’t have breakfast, did you?” 

Carlos only lets go of your hand and disappears inside the motorhome when you confirm his suspicions, you have not eaten anything yet, and honestly were not planning to. The nerves won’t let you keep anything down in days like these, your diet consisting of some water and what little fruit you can munch on to not faint in the middle of the road, but you don’t have the heart to tell him that.  

The situation is another déjà vu from some time ago, when a certain Ferrari driver approached you in your first ever visit to the Paddock with a delicious surprise and a similar question. This time though, he can do nothing but sit back and watch while his teammate fills the small table with treats for you. The other man at the table shaking his head at the Spanish’s antics, a smile hidden under his hand, you would not even be able to eat all of this if you had spent days in a hunger strike. 

Carlos pulls up an extra chair from a nearby table and encourages you to dive in, taking his probably cold coffee from in front of you to finish what was left in it.  

You put your phone down then, finally concluding with a sigh “I’ve got nothing from Nick... and now he isn’t answering”, and picking up one of the most manageable foods of your improvised breakfast in the meantime: a tiny bowl of fruit salad. 

Charles lets out a chuckle at that, swirling the contents of his paper cup “Like you would have seen it anyway, I’m still waiting for an answer about the plane tickets, just saying...” 

“Mate, I sent her a good luck text back in France, and did you get a response to it?” Carlos joins in on his friend's complaints, making a dramatic pause and answering his own question on the same beat “Yeah, me neither” 

Maybe you would have felt called out or exposed that these two were discussing your private conversations —or lack of thereof— out here in the open and in front of a stranger, but that’d be if you had any idea of what the hell they were talking about. What messages? Did you give them your number at some point and don’t remember it? Well, Nick and the media coordinator have been the only ones blowing up your phone since you received the device anyway. 

“I don’ know what you’re talking about” you mumble, shrugging your shoulders as they continue airing instances where you have ignored their texts and you follow on with your task, the fruit tastes really good actually.  

After a while, Carlos tap his foot on your crossed legs to gain back your attention, when he finally notices you have grown quiet during their tirade, and offers you a smile  

“C’mon don’t get mad, we’re just joking” Charles consoles you as well —unnecessarily so, since the only emotion you are experiencing is confusion— “It’s because we’re flying private a bit later, and I don’t want you getting home before I do”   

Home? What is he talking about? And why does he have to arrive first? Seriously, you are missing too much information 

“You should fly with us, I’m sure the rest won’t mind” Carlos chimes in, stealing a piece of the chocolate crêpe in your plate. A plate that you push to his side of the table right after, cutting him a couple more pieces so he can help you finish it up. 

Through a mouthful of the sweet dessert, you question the obvious “The rest?”. Completely disregarding all the other important questions crowding your mind, a skill you have developed after weeks of not understanding anything the people around you talk about. 

As your answer, you have the three men on the table spewing names on the go, confirming the presence of at least six other people on the plane. The unknown Spanish man seems to also be included in the passengers’ list.  

You don’t mind flying with them, honestly. You have somehow grown accustomed to taking a plane every other week, which means this won’t be much of a change. This way you’ll have at least someone to talk to on the journey to whichever country is next on the schedule, Nick always falls asleep a second after taking off.  

The “private” part is the most confusing one, you and Nick have been taking normal flights to every Grand Prix. Guess your subconscious has decided to step up its game. You’ll follow the script anyway; at the end of the day, you are just trying to find the end of this abnormally long dream. 

You agree to their proposal with a shrug of your shoulders, stuffing your face with the last bit of a second crêpe that you cannot believe you’ve finished. It feels nice to tone down that sinking feeling you have in your stomach on Sundays. 

Charles could not be happier with your decision, something he lets you know as soon as you get on the way to the drivers briefing. Carlos and the other man have taken the lead, walking in front of the two of you and chatting about an interview they will be recording later in the day. And they do it in Spanish, which feels so refreshing to hear after weeks of being surrounded by people talking every other language.  

While you are trying to discretely listen in on their conversation, Charles lightly pushes you to the side with a knock of his shoulder to yours, attempting to get you out of your thoughts. Which he succeeds as he has you looking up at him over the lid of your cup of hot chocolate —yes, you are still trying to finish Carlos’ impromptu breakfast. 

“I’m really looking forward for the break” his voice is low, the corners of his lips tilted up into a beautiful smile that he can’t seem to be able to get rid of. His green eyes are shinning with pure joy, focused only on you and the way you slowly match his grin. 

“Are you?” you do not know exactly what he means or why is he looking at you like that but feel compelled go along with it. 

The Ferrari driver peels his eyes from you to look at the path in front of him, his cheeks still full with that big smile as he crosses his arms over his chest and gives you another playful push “It’s going to be great, I promise” 

. 

The briefing is exhausting, as always. The drivers have had a lot of problems during Free Practice and Qualifying, so it takes you half an hour more to break free from the meeting after all the complaints. The Ferrari teammates remain quiet through it all, they managed to lock themselves into the second and third place of the starting grid, so they prefer to keep a low profile and listen. Lewis is one of the most vocal ones, in his seventh place right behind Alonso, and this Sebastian Vettel guy too —another surname that rings so many alarms in your head—, but his criticism of the traffic on his fast lap is much more justified. He got knocked down to P18. 

You are happy with your P13, the same position you ended up in on the French GP and two positions in front of Mick, so you have simply been trying not to fall asleep in the middle of it all. 

All the drivers are walking out of the room, chatting about their schedules and the final result of their complaints, when a certain McLaren driver comes up to awaken you from your slumber. Daniel suddenly drops his arm over your shoulders while you are sleepily trailing behind Nick, bringing you close to his body while he balances the two of you from one side to the other, a chuckle slipping past his lips at your startled expression. 

“Gonna let me invite you out for lunch?” Daniel offers, making you match his pace as Nick leads you both down the corridor.  

“Huh? Why?” comes as your instant response, understandably so when you have not exchanged more than a couple of words after he had that fight with Nick on the Austrian Grand Prix. His words about having to talk to you later are still bouncing off your ears.  

Daniel has not approached you for that important conversation ever since, has not mentioned that horrible day when you woke up in the garage with him not once, and now he wants to go have lunch with you? It doesn’t seem right. 

“What do you mean why?” the man frowns, having not expected any kind of push back from your part. Daniel decides to come to a stop before exiting the building, letting go of you so you can better talk face to face “Just because? I mean, it’s been so long since we last went out... Do you not want to? That’s okay too” 

Daniel’s voice makes something shift inside of you, a strange weight setting over your chest at hearing his dejected tone. It is a wave of unfamiliar thoughts and feelings that swarm your mind, inexplicable ones, that are quickly growing into a awful headache. 

It is not something you expected either, the way someone that seems so happy and over the top on his interviews, would deflate just because you are cautious about spending time with him. But you didn't imagine feeling sick to your stomach from watching him like that.

“No, I-” you start speaking, more out of sheer need to wipe that sad frown from his face than anything else, still not sure of what is making you feel so distressed “Yeah, of course I want to, it’s just that I literally ate half the Ferrari buffet, and I really can’t have anything before the race because I get sick and... you know?” you explain, almost stumbling over your words and probably speaking in the thickest accent he has ever heard with how fast you try to go over your excuses 

Daniel expression faintly lifts at your nervous reaction and he shakes his head “Don’t worry about it, we can go any other time! I was-… it’s just that things have been a bit strange since Austria, so I wanted to make sure everything’s alright. You can talk to me whenever you need, you know that, right?” 

Nick has decided it is finally time to inform you about the start of the holidays —most probably that break Charles had mentioned—, no race no nothing for a month. No seeing Daniel for that meal you promised him either, or even a bye-bye to him or any of the drivers. And Nick not only has the audacity to dump all that new information on you after accompanying you to your hotel room, but he also leaves you completely alone after reminding you of your next schedule in England, which is actually 15 days away. Fifteen days where he won't be with you.

And although you nod almost immediately in confirmation, trying to look confident and willing to do so, this is another conversation that will make the rounds on your mind for nights on end. For now, it is the first thing on your head from the second you step inside the car, to the moment you leave the paddock that same afternoon.

Although there are even more waiting to happen.

What does he mean goodbye? What are you supposed to do now? 

___

Author's note: Hi! It's been way too long since I last posted, hasn't it? Seriously, uni is killing me. Hope you all liked the chapter!! I've been rereading all your comments a million times to get some motivation, so thanks for the help hahahha. I'm already missing F1.

Thank you so much for reading!!

Taglist: @purplephantomwolf @raye2000 @yuiiimd @drezzerk33 @leclercdream @homie0sapien @minkyungseokie @carlossainzwho @rewmuslupin @kyuupidwrites @raevyng @lazybot @gills-lounge @hiraethrhapsody @jjkclub @darleneslane @therealcap

⌗ 𝗠𝗬 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘 𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗘 𝗔𝗟𝗟 𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗘 - the master list ┇ongoing - 2 chapters left ┇・┈・┈・┈・┈・┈・┈・┈・┈・┈・┈・┈・┈・┈・ ┇ . 🌿 :: pairing — ( max vertsappen  x  wife! reader ) ┇ . 🫧 :: ⁠summary — ( say good bye to your old life, you're max's new wife now )  ┇ . 🌿 :: ⁠genre — ( angst / romance ) ┇ . 🫧 :: ⁠song — ( link ) ┇  🌿 :: ⁠ content warning — ( smut, jos, toxic fans/media ) ⨯ ︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶ ꒷꒦˚₊ 

( main master list | more of max verstappen ) ( requests )

:: PART ONE | angst + romance ❭ ⤷ welcome to your new home

:: PART TWO | fluff + romance ❭ ⤷ how to: love your new home

:: PART THREE | romance ❭ ⤷ how to: hold hands with your new husband

:: PART FOUR | fluff ❭ ⤷ how to: love your new life

:: PART FIVE | fluff + smut ❭ ⤷ how to: love your new husband

:: P6 COMING SOON | angst ❭ ⤷ how to: say goodbye

:: P7 COMING SOON | fluff + romance ❭ ⤷ goodbyes aren't forever. stay in my arms, my love

all eyes on us | mv33

synopsis ⤜ ⨳⊹‹ in which you’re the teammate of max verstappen, but you too don’t seem to get along quite well…

pairings ⤜ ⨳⊹‹ mexican!fem!reader x max verstappen

face claim ⤜ ⨳⊹‹ lizeth selene

warnings ⤜ ⨳⊹‹ explicit language, grammar mistakes, reader is a bit aggressive n competitive, alcohol, cigarettes n smoking, sexism, i think that’s it?

a/n ⤜ ⨳⊹‹ this will be an ongoing series, it’s a half thought out plot but… i’ve done so many of these just for them to be deleted. let’s pray that i don’t delete this one

status ⤜ ⨳⊹‹ ongoing

POSSIBLE INACCURATE TIMELINE

( ᗢ chapters include narrative content )

chapter names may change as story progresses.

01. sweet lies

02. stupid girl ᗢ

03.

04.

05.

more to come…

✬ taglist ✬ (dm or comment)

errhehhee

archiverstappen’s masterlist ♡

daniel ricciardo

exist for love

lando norris

it’s a match (series)

part one, part two, part three

max verstappen

baby, you can drive my car

break up with your girlfriend, i’m bored

crosswind

hard launch

the cat sitter (series)

part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, part six, part seven, part eight, part nine, part ten, part eleven, part twelve, part thirteen

oscar piastri

bad idea, right?

girl you ate that

MASTERLISTS my other recs

♡ FORMULA 1 ♡ 

MASTERLIST- @lecsainz

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MASTERLIST - @lorarri

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MASTERLIST SERIES MASTERLIST - @monzabee

MASTERLIST SERIES MASTERLIST - @cieloclercs

MASTERLIST - @astonmartinii

MASTERLIST - @natailiatulls07

MASTERLIST - @planetpiastri