Formula 1 | One Shots (1)

I Wanna Be Yours 🔥| Max Verstappen

Authors Note: This storyline was requested by user: MonAnge888

⚠️ 18+ spicy story, warning will be given where it starts (at the end)

Done in reader POV
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Things have been tense between Max and me for the past few weeks. No, tense isn't the right word, more like...stressful. I've never seen him like this. The Max I know is usually cool headed, focused, and relentless in his racing. But after three races in a row...three disasters, he's been different. 

He tries to hide it, tries to smile through it when he gets home, but I see the frustration eating at him. I'm sitting in the Redbull hospitality, my eyes glued to the TV, watching him fight the car during another race weekend. It's the fourth race now where everything has gone wrong. The car just isn't working for him, and Red Bull hasn't done anything about it. 

Max is in seventh, battling with someone he shouldn't even be. He should be at the front, fighting for wins. Instead, he's scrapping for points, his radio messages sounding more agitated with every lap. When the race ends, and he finishes P8, my heart sinks for him. I know what's coming. He'll walk through the garage, his jaw tight. It's been like this for weeks. 

When I hear the engineers yelling and chasing after Max, I know he's back. I get up, heading towards his drivers room. There he is, standing with his back to me, his cap in his hand, running his fingers through his hair. 

"Hey, baby," I say softly, stepping toward him. 

He doesn't turn around immediately. When he does, I see the exhaustion in his eyes. The frustration, the anger. But mostly, the weight of disappointment that's been dragging him down. 

"Hey," he mumbles, his voice with no emotion. 

"Rough race," I say, knowing how useless the words sound. 

He shrugs, avoiding my eyes. "What else is new?" 

I don't know what to say. What can I say? I can't fix this. I can't make the car faster, or the strategy better, or whatever the hell is going wrong at Red Bull. I can't pull him out of this slump. So, I just stand there, waiting for him to say something more. He doesn't. 

"Max..." I take a step closer, reaching out to touch his arm. He flinches slightly, but then lets me rest my hand there. "You want to talk about it?" 

He sighs, shaking his head. "What's there to talk about, Lauren? Everything's going to shit. The car's crap, the strategy's crap, and I'm...I'm not even in the top five anymore. I don't know what's going wrong."

I hate seeing him like this, so defeated, like he's given up completely. It's like the fire in him has been taken out, and it scares me. "You're doing everything you can. It's not you, Max." 

He lets out a bitter laugh, finally looking at me. "If it's not me, then why does it feel like it is? I'm the one in the car. I'm the one making the calls. And I'm the one who's not getting it done."

I can see the anger bubbling up, and I know this is what's been eating him alive. He's always been his own worst critic, always pushing himself harder than anyone else could. But this...this is different. It's like he's starting to believe he's losing something he can't get back. 

"It's not all on you," I tell him, stepping closer so I can wrap my arms around him. 

He tenses for a moment, then finally relaxes against me, letting me hold him. "You're still the same Max. The one who fights for every position, who never gives up. This is just a bad stretch."