Two Stephens
Two Stephens
+18 Smut (Ménage a trois, baby!)
Pairing: Supreme!Strange x Fem!Reader / Doctor!Strange x Fem!Reader
Synopsis: When a spell goes wrong you and Stephen are throwed into another universe and end up needing the help of another Stephen Strange and things get a little intense between the three of you.
Word Count: 4,900k
Warnings: Ménage a trois (Vaginal and anal sex, DP, Oral sex with male and female receiving, Masturbation with male and female receiving.)
Writer Note: I needed to get this fantasy out of my head and I ended up being quite satisfied with the result. This is totally filthy. you are welcome ;)
As usual I would like to remind you that english is not my first language so will probably have some grammatical mistakes here and there but I hope it doesnt spoil your experience.
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“Okay, this is the worst day of my life, Strange and you will have to compensate me for all this mess.”
Strange held out his hand to you helping you up.
“Let's find a way to get back home first.”
You sighed looking around. You were on top of the roof of a building and you could take a good look at the city of NY from that universe. It was different. More alive, with much more greenery and flowers and even the smell of the air was better. No pollution or smell of factory smoke.
“I could get used to living here” You said sighing and Strange rolled his eyes. Of all the people in the world he could be lost with in another universe with no idea how to get back home, you were the last one he would choose. Wong insisted on saying that the problem he had with you came from a repressed feeling, but he couldn't imagine feeling anything for you at all. You were irritating, petulant, and although very pretty, you were definitely not a good company.
You felt your stomach churning, but you took a deep breath, doing your best not to throw up. “Okay, what's the plan?”
He was silent for a second.
“Strange, tell me you have a plan.”
“Maybe I’ll have one if you just shut up for a minute and let me think.”
You crossed your arms in annoyance “We're in NY. There must be a Sanctum here.”
He shook his head “Great deduction.”
You rolled your eyes “Maybe if we find the Sorcerer Supreme of this universe he can help us find a way to get back to ours.”
He thought for a moment looking at you “Maybe there is another me in this universe.”
You sighed “I'm praying we’ll find the Ancient One or Wong. I couldn't handle two of you.”
You walked the streets slowly, being surprised by the small differences between the universes. Here, for example, people walked in red instead of green, which made you almost get run over if he didn't pull you at the right time.
"Watch out" he said gruffly.
“Just for the record, this is all your fault!” You replied back in the same tone “If I die I will come back to haunt you!”
He looked at you offended “How is this my fault?”
“Are you really going to pretend it wasn't your spell that went wrong and caused all this?” You sighed irritably as you crossed another street “Just to remind you, I warned you not to do this damn forgetting spell. You never listen to anyone, Strange.”
“I was trying to help the kid! I know it's hard for you to have empathy for people, but he's suffered too much.”
“Okay, and I imagine he must be better now with all those villains loose there and both of us missing. How do you think he's handling it all by himself?!”
He did not answer. Strange was feeling tired and guilty. He was also worried about Parker and what might happen to him and you seemed to enjoy putting salt in the wound. He didn't know why you hated him so much, but it was exhausting to be around you for more than an hour and he was already around you for a long time. He just wanted to get home as soon as possible.
You finally arrived at the Sanctum Sanctorum and hesitated a little to knock on the door, but before you could knock the door opened by itself and you entered revealing a slightly more beautiful and well-kept hall.
“Hello” Strange called in the empty hall and then a familiar and annoying voice answered.
“What... How did you get here?”
You turned on your heel in time to see the man in a blue tunic coming down the stairs.
“Oh for God's sake!” You complained
Strange stared at the other Strange coming towards him. It was exactly like him, except he didn't have a goatee and wore a blue tunic and a blue cloak.
“I'm sorry for entering like that” Your Strange said “We are looking for the Sorcerer Supreme of this universe.”
The other Strange looked at the two of you curiously “Well now you find him. How can I help you?”
You couldn't help but notice the weird way that Strange was looking at you, as if he knew you.
You sat in the hall by the fire and he poured you a cup of tea and waited for you to explain how you got there.
“So let me get this straight” He said placing the empty cup on the coffee table “You used a forgetting spell to help your friend escape the persecution he was suffering, but somehow the spell went wrong and caused cracks in the fabric of reality opening rifts between universes?”
Strange nodded feeling ashamed before himself “It was a stupid mistake on my part. I could have fixed it, but the kid...”
“Now you want to blame a teenager for your mistakes, Strange?” You said irritated “Who understand the dangers, him or you?”
The other Strange looked at the two of you and smiled at you. A kind of smile you weren't used to seeing on your Strange. “I always knew that one day I would meet visitors from other universes, but I never dreamed of meeting a variant of myself and [Y/N]”
You stared at him in surprise “Do you know me?”
He nodded “Well, let's say so.”
Your Strange looked at you both curiously noticing the way the other Strange looked at you.
“Sorry, but what are you two to each other in this universe?”
Strange smiled, looking away from you and you felt your face heat up.
“We never decided that, actually.” He replied “Anyway, I haven't seen her in years. She's married and living out of the country from what I heard.”
You nodded, relieved to know that there was no way you could run into a version of yourself in that universe.
“I ask you the same question.”
Strange looked at you sighing “She is a student at Kamar Taj. One of my most powerful and intelligent students. No less irritating.”
You stared at Strange in surprise that he had said something positive about you.
The other Strange sighed “Well, if there is a rift between the universes as you say, I believe it's not impossible to return home, but first we have to find a way to fix this mess before other visitors start arriving from other universes.”
Strange agreed “I know I have no right to ask this, but I need your help.”
The other Strange looked at you again with that interested look and then smiled getting up and offering his hand to your Strange.
“I'll help you, Stephen. Besides, I would do anything [Y/N] asked me to.”
You felt your face getting red as you watched the two Stephens holding hands and it really did look like a vision from hell to you. Or, if you were going to accept that you had feelings for Strange that you never let on, then that would be a vision of paradise. A highly distorted paradise stemming from some forbidden fantasy.
You sighed getting up “Sorry, is there a bathroom I can use? Long day!”
Strange nodded “Of course. I imagine you know the Sanctum. You can have one of the guest rooms tonight. Make yourself at home!”
You agreed, turning your back on both of them as quickly as possible and walking away from that environment that suddenly felt inappropriate when added to your thoughts.
Strange noticed that the other Strange didn't take his eyes off you and noticing something inside him not liking it. It was almost as if he was jealous. But of course it couldn't be that, it was ridiculous.
“I presume you want to rest as well, maybe take a shower. There's not much we can do tonight. Tomorrow morning we'll find a way to send you home. The sooner you return, the less chance of an incursion.”
Strange looked at him confused “Incursion?”
“That's what happens when one universe collides with another. We don't want something like that to happen to our universes so, as amazing as it is to meet you, I'm inclined to get rid of you as soon as possible.”
Strange nodded “Of course. Yeah... thanks for the hospitality.”
The other Strange smiled “I presume you would do the same for me. After all, if we could't help ourselves, what kind of Doctor Strange would we be?”
Strange nodded and was leaving the room when the other Strange spoke again.
“You and [Y/N]... is there nothing between you?”
Strange didn't understand the reason for the question and again noticed that irritating feeling of jealousy invading him.
“She clearly likes you...” He smirked “us... that's why I'm asking.”
“And why do you want to know?”
Strange sighed “Because it would be quite an incursion!”
Strange gritted his teeth, but shrugged. “I doubt she likes us that way. Believe me, that woman hates me, she makes my life a hell all the time!”
Strange chuckled “Some would say there is a thin line between love and hate. Maybe we're somewhere in between.”
Strange shook his head “As long as she agrees, do as you please!”
Strange nodded.
You took a shower and looked out the window at the streets of NY bathed in lights. Tiredness hitting you like lightning.
You weren't content to wear the same clothes, but for lack of anything else to wear you stuffed yourself inside your pair of jeans and white long-sleeved blouse. A knock on the door took you by surprise.
“Come in” You said while drying your hair. The Strange of that universe entered the room in his glorious blue tunic and blue cloak.
“I hope you are well accommodated” He smiled “Me and your Stephen agreed that I will help you both to return to your universe tomorrow. Tonight you must rest. You're safe here.
You felt your heart racing and you looked away from the intense way he was looking at you.
“Yeah...thanks, Strange.”
He nodded “You can call me Stephen if you want to” He said taking a step towards you and getting dangerously close to you “We were very close.”
You nodded, swallowing your saliva “Thank you, Stephen.”
He smirked “The last time we saw each other you told me that you loved me. If I remember correctly, you said you loved me in every universe” He said touching your face and as strange as that was, you couldn't pull away. “I think this is a great opportunity to test that.”
He touched your lips with his thumb, forcing them to part.
“Of course, if you're as interested in finding out as I am.”
He came closer and kissed your lips lightly. Just a touch of lips, watching your reactions. You sighed, all the feelings you felt for him that you had hidden for so long now surfacing and overwhelming you. You knew it was wrong, but for that moment you couldn't care less.
He smiled as if reading your thoughts and took you in his arms kissing you intensely. The cloak fell from his shoulders and flew out of the bedroom.
You were lost in his arms when you heard the sound of footsteps that stopped at the door.
Strange stepped away from you and you stared at your Strange standing in the door looking at the scene with an expression you didn't know if it was anger, surprise or desire.
“Stephen, I was saying to [Y/N] that the last time I saw her in this universe she told me that she loved us in every universe, what do you think about testing this theory?”
Strange stared at the two of you. The arrogant way his variant referred to you, as if he knew you so much better than he did, made him jealous and he couldn't hide anymore that all the irritation he felt when you were around masked a feeling much stronger than he could have imagined. The fact that such feeling was so strong that existed in other universes only made him more sure of how real it was and seeing that variant kissing and touching you made him want to do the same. You were his after all.
He entered the room and the other Strange stepped away watching as he took his hand to the back of your neck and pulled you to his lips. You moaned softly in surprised but wrapped your arms around his neck and let him deepen the kiss, sucking your tongue with desperate desire. You pulled back for breath and opened your eyes to see the other Strange looking at the two of you with lust.
Your Strange stepped back cupping your face in his hands
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
You faced the other Strange who was waiting anxiously for your answer.
“Fuck this! Yes.”
You said launching yourself into the arms of the other Stephen, delighting in his lips while your Stephen approached you from behind kissing your shoulder and moving his lips to your neck. You moved away from the lips of one Stephen to surrender to the lips of the other, taking turns between their mouths, the contrast between the smooth face and the goatee was interesting and you were not at all in the mood to choose which was better. You wanted both.
The bedroom door closed with a slight movement of the other Stephen's hand and you heard the latch click.
Your Stephen ran his hands down your back holding your blouse and pulling it over your head and throwing it to the floor. He placed open-mouthed kisses on your bare shoulder and pressed you against his body so you could feel his shaft under his clothes.
The other Stephen caressed your breast over your bra and not satisfied pulled it down revealing your naked skin, the cold air making your nipple harden. He brought his lips to it sucking, his other hand caressing your other breast.
A low moan escaped your lips and your Stephen reached for your hand placing it on his shaft so that you could feel the state you had left him in. He buried his face between your neck and your shoulder, you tilted your head to create more room for him and he took a light bite of your neck, his goatee making your skin shiver, your hand gripped his cock over his clothes. God, it was huge.
The other Stephen lifted his lips to yours again, his hands going down to your pants unbuttoning the buttons and pulling them down, reaching down to help you get your feet over them. He turned his lips to your breasts as he brought a hand gently down between your legs, stroking through your panties.
You felt your entire body tremble at that touch. Your hand struggling to free your Stephen from all that clothing as he continued the assault on your neck.
He unbuckled his belt, getting rid of some of his clothing, leaving only his pants and boots. You moaned softly as the other Stephen slipped his hand inside your panties caressing your clit with his trembling fingers and taking one finger inside you.
“Oh look at that, she's completely wet, Stephen. And its all for us.”
You moaned in agreement putting your hand inside your Stephen's pants and finally taking his cock and releasing it. He was hard, full of visible veins, a fat, pink head, and the tip was wet with precum. You held him tight in your hand moving up and down jerking him.
“Oh fuck, baby, do you really want me that way? Why didn't you tell me before?”
"Shut up, Stephen" You said feeling your face blushing and pulling him to your lips as you stroked his cock and moved your hips against the other Stephen's skillful fingers. The wet noise his fingers made inside you was obscene.
“God, Stephen, this is so good!”
He chuckled kneeling on the floor, lifting one of your legs and placing it over his shoulder. He pulled your panties to the side and licked all the way from your entrance to your clit.
Your entire body shook and you moaned loudly, increasing the strength and speed with which you jerked your Stephen.
“Is it good?” He asked biting his lip to contain his own moans “Tell me how it feels with his mouth sucking you like that?”
You moaned “It feels good, Stephen. Really good.”
He growled impatiently “I want your mouth. I want to fuck that dirty mouth of yours until you confess that you always wanted me to fuck you. How does that sound to you? Good?”
You nodded, moaning loudly as the other Stephen stuck one more finger inside you and fucked you with them while sucking your clit. You brought your other hand to his head, grabbing his hair.
“Fuck Stephen you do it so good.”
He smiled satisfied looking at you. His smooth face all red and wet with your juices. “Yeah? How about letting your Stephen have a taste on you? Do you want this, Stephen?”
Your Stephen groaned impatiently “Fuck yes.”
Stephen pulled away taking your hand and pulling you onto the bed. “Lie down, honey.”
You obeyed, laying down leaning against the pile of pillows. Your Stephen got rid of his clothes and climbed onto the bed coming towards you. He brought his hands to your panties, taking them off and throwing them on the floor and your legs dangled to the sides. He bit his lip seeing you fully open to him. Your little cunt swollen and wet. He couldnd believe that was really happening.
“Stephen, please... I need you to touch me.”
He brought his fingers up your slit feeling how wet you were and opened the folds of your clit before diving there, flicking his tongue in your bundle of nerves making you twitch and moan.
The other Stephen smirked satisfied watching the two of you. It was beyond any dream he could conjure up seeing himself sucking you like that, it made him extremely hard.
He unbuckled his belt and got out of his clothes leaving only his boxers and climbed onto the bed kneeling beside you and taking your hand and placing at his cock over his boxer. You bit your lips caressing over the fabric, then you reached inside and took it out, stroking quickly.
"God, Stephen you are so big"
“Yeah? You like it? Put it in your mouth, honey. I want this wonderful mouth around my big cock.”
You moaned as Stephen placed three fingers inside you, fingering you intensely as he sucked on your clit making a delicious sucking noise.
You jerked him a couple of times and spat on him spreading your spit around him and only then your putted him in your mouth going as far as you could without gagging.
Stephen moaned loudly “Oh shit honey, your mouth feels so good wrapped around my cock like that.”
You hummed contentedly by moving your hips to get as much friction as possible from your Stephen's mouth as his fingers fucked you.
You took his cock out of your mouth and went back to spitting on him jerking him quickly. He held your hair, pulling it lightly.
“You do it so well, [Y/N]. I missed that. I missed you.”
You nodded knowing too well he wasn't talking about you, but it was all so confusing right now, you didn't really care.
Stephen raised his lips kissing your belly and breasts and took his hand to your chin pulling you off the other Stephen's cock to kiss him.
You kissed him, tasting you from his mouth and moaning between his lips.
“You taste so good, baby. I could eat you like this forever.”
You sighed into his lips as you continued to jerk the other Stephen making a wet noise.
“I want to taste you Stephen. Let me suck your cock too. Let me show you how much I care about you, how much I've always cared.”
He groaned, sitting up in bed.
The other Stephen cupped your chin kissing you. You got down on all fours and took Stephen's cock in your hand and spat on it stroking it quickly, squeezing it and fucking it with your hand.
He moaned loudly “Please baby, put it in your mouth. I want to fuck your mouth.”
You complied by sucking it willingly. Licking the tip and going as far as you could, relaxing your mouth until the tip hit the back of your throat.
“Fuck baby, you do it so perfectly. You’re so good”
The other Stephen caressed your ass cheeks and you felt his fingers penetrating you.
“You are dripping wet honey. So warm. I wanna put my cock inside you. Can I? Say yes please. Let me fuck you while you suck his cock.”
"Yes, Stephen"
You said feeling his tip rubbing at your entrance. You moved your hips against him, wanting him to enter you at once.
“Honey you are so needy.”
He spat on his hand, bringing the saliva to the tip of his cock and then positioned it at your entrance, penetrating you with a single thrust. You moaned loudly as his cock stretched you and you kept your Stephen's cock in your mouth sucking him fast while your hand caressed his balls.
“Oh shit, honey you are so tight. Your fucking little cunt is so tight. I love it.”
You moaned in approval as he fucked you with quick, intense thrusts. Both hands gripping your hips, squeezing and pulling you against his thrusts and going so deep it made your whole body shake.
Stephen pulled your hair out of your face and kept it in his hand in a ponytail so he could get a good view of your mouth swallowing his cock. You kept forcing him down your throat, going so deep that your nose brushed his pubic hair, your hand gripping his balls and massaging them.
“Baby you suck my cock so good. Why have you never sucked my cock before? Isn't that what you wanted all along?”
You hummed taking his cock out of your mouth coughing and gagging. Saliva dripped from your mouth in a thick tread between your mouth and the tip of his cock. Tears streaming from your eyes. You moaned loudly feeling each wonderful thrust while the other Stephen fucked you at such a fast and intense pace.
He pulled you to his lips kissing you and then pulled you off the other Stephen's and into his lap.
“It's my turn” He said turning your back to him while you put your leg through his legs. You held his cock helping him to penetrate you and supported yourself on your legs to ride him, but Stephen couldn't give up control. He slipped his hands under your thighs, holding your weight and forcing his hips against you, fucking you at his own fast, intense pace.
He moaned loudly “Baby, your cunt feels so good on my cock.”
The other Stephen got up standing on the bed and came over so you could suck his cock. You kept both hands busy behind your back resting on Stephen's chest, so he put his hands in your hair holding it and forcing your head against his cock making you swallow it.
“Fuck, honey, you're being so nice to us. I bet you never dreamed of having two Stephens in bed with you, did you?”
He held your chin taking his cock out of your mouth and you took the opportunity to breathe. He was right. You never dreamed something like that could happen.
You shook your head no and he placed his cock in your mouth sideways forcing it against your cheek and pulling it out with a delicious popping noise. He repeated it a few times moaning and then grunted impatiently "Fuck this Stephen, If we're going to do this, we're going to do it right.”
He pulled you off your Stephen and made you lie on your side, your head positioned at the perfect height so you could suck your Stephen.
He lay down right behind you running his hand through your slit collecting as much of your slick and dragging it to your other entrance.
He spat into his hand, bringing the saliva to his cock and placing the tip on your ass. He pushed slowly and you twitched insecurely.
“It's okay honey, I know how to do it. I won't hurt you. Just relax, okay? Trust me.”
You did as he asked and tried to relax. He pulled your thigh, bending your leg so that it was in the best position for him to penetrate you from behind and slowly he was putting it on.
Your Stephen held all your hair in his hand forcing you against his cock. He moaned loudly, enjoying the wonderful flutter in your throat as you moaned into his cock while the other Stephen fucked you.
Stephen really knew how to deal with you, he didn't hurt you and with patience you felt his whole cock inside you in that wonderful new way.
“Honey, you can handle my cock so well. Tell me when I can move.”
You moaned, moving your hips against him and he smiled satisfied, starting to move slowly at first and then increasing his speed until he found a slow but intense pace and little by little you got used to being fucked like that, the new pleasure revealing itself with each thrust.
Stephen pulled you lightly by the hair taking the cock out of your mouth and moaning satisfied “Look at you baby. Are you really letting him fuck your ass? Tell me, does it feel good?”
You moaned and he bent down to kiss your lips “Use your words, baby. Tell me how it feels.”
“It feels good, Stephen. It feels good to have him fucking my ass. I've never felt anything like this before.”
He smiled satisfied “I wanna have your ass too, baby. Will you let me fuck your ass?”
You nodded and the other Stephen stepped back sitting on the bed leaning against the headboard.
“Come here honey, let me fuck your little cunt so he can fuck your ass. What do you think? Is not what you wanted? Two Stephens fucking you?”
You moaned and shaked your head yes, sliding your leg through his thighs and positioning him at the entrance of your pussy.
Your Stephen waited for your answer.
“Come here Stephen. I want you to fuck my ass. I want to have both inside me fucking me at the same time. My two Stephens.”
He groaned as he positioned himself behind you and placed his cock at the entrance of your ass and slowly pushed until he was fully inside you and moaned at the feel of your tight ass squeezing his cock and you have never felt so full.
“Oh my god, you both feel so good fucking me at the same time. Fuck yeah, I love it. Just keep fucking me like that, just like that baby. I feel so full, so full. Oh my god.”
You leaned on the other Stephen's shoulders kissing him passionately as you moved on his cock getting as much friction as possible on your clit.
At the same time your Stephen was holding your hair tightly fucking you from behind and turning your face so you could kiss him while he fucked you.
It didn't take long for you to feel your climax building deep in your belly. Even that felt different because you felt so full with them both inside you like that.
“Oh my god you gonna make me cum.”
The other Stephen moaned loud “Fuck honey, cum on my cock while he fuck your ass.”
You didn't need anything else, your entire body convulsed on top of him as your Stephen fucked your ass and no words came out of your mouth, just a loud moan and you collapsed on the other Stephen's chest.
Your Stephen pulled away holding his cock and jerking off “I am gonna cum, baby. Where do you want me?”
You moaned, bending down to take him in your mouth in time to feel the hot load of cum flooding your mouth. He moaned loudly as you sucked every drop until he was completely dry. He pulled you to his lips kissing you and then collapsing on the bed.
The other Stephen handed his cock in your hand and you took it in your mouth sucking it and jerking him, feeling him throbbing and twitching.
“Honey I'm gonna fill your mouth too.”
You moaned in approval as the hot liquid flooded your mouth and you swallowed it all. It had exactly the same taste. You licked him until he was completely clean.
He sat on the bed panting running his hand through his hair wet with sweat and then he smiled getting up and with a gesture of his hand he was fully dressed.
He came around the bed and pulled you in for one last kiss
“I was right. You do love me in every universe.”
You nodded watching as he left the room and closed the door behind him.
Your Stephen sat up in bed and held your hand “Are we going to talk about this or...”
You sighed feeling the tiredness hit your body “We will, but not today. Today we're just going to sleep”
You said and he nodded, lying down on the bed and you lay on his chest, snuggling your arm across his belly and soon you both fell asleep.
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Disclaimer: I'm not accepting money or bribes from fans! Just thought I'd put that in so I don't get sued.
Baby Zee, I like to make a request for the headcanon weekend!!
Hear me out Zee, threesome with
the Captain America, Steve Rogers
and
the God of Thunder, Thor.
🥴🥴🥴
Like a Goddess of Worthy au for the worthy boys 💙
With size kink! and breeding kink! of course.
These enormous guys manhadling you to their liking as they make love to you and are both so eager to breed you.
Love-dovey fluffy naughty-smutty nastiness please!! 💗💗
goddess of worthy ; steve and thor
warnings ~ smut, minors dni , threesome, size kink, breeding kink, creampies, overstimulatation, reader being shared, titty slapping, choking, degradation/mocking, shitty writing tbh
my initial reaction to this : Hmmmmmsmsnsbsndsnn them taking turns breeding that pussy 🥵🥵 being full of cum 🥴🥴 it ends with her pussy being sore and dripping with white cream whike the boys kiss all over your body, talking about how pretty you’ll look knocked up…and how sharing isn’t so bad as long as you find someone worthy of being with —that’s you
Steve Rogers and Thor Odinson were two men that put other men to shame, worthy of power no other human, god, or being could hold. They were kind, strong, and they wanted the same thing : you.
How did you end up in the cross hairs of these two beefy men? Well, it had started with a simple internship straight out of college under none other than Doctor Bruce Banner himself.
You were quite dedicated to your science, spending long hours in the lab with your mentor until he finally told you that you needed to get out and experience life. He had invited you to Tony’s next big party, it was only right. You had been working at the compound for months and you had just met the Avengers barely. It was time to socialize, especially if Banner decided to hire you.
This was the night you caught their attention, both of the them with their old aged asgardian liquor sloshing in clear glasses admired you as you took shots with the Black Widow.
“Banner says she’s incredibly intelligent, never said she was…”Steve trailed off, his own gaze sinfully falling on your ass in the leggings clinging to your body.
“Banner says she’s incredibly intelligent, never said she was…”Steve trailed off, his own gaze sinfully falling on your ass in the leggings clinging to your body.
“I saw her first.”
“Don’t…she isn’t a toy, Thor, you don’t get to call dibs,”Steve scoffed, tearing his eyes from you to scold him.”Besides, who says she’ll be interested in you?”
Thor laughed at him,”Oh Captain, she deserves a worthy partner, don’t you think?”
Steve raised a brow, holding his hand out with a smile,”Worthy, huh?”He questioned with knowing tone as Mjolnir flew into his hand. He flipped the hammer with ease in his hand,”I think she’d find me quite worthy.”
“Very funny, Rogers,”Thor huffed, swiping the hammer from his hands. His grip around the hammer tight as an idea popped into his head.”You know…these past few months, I haven’t minded sharing the title of worthy with you.”
Steve looked at him curiously, the dots connecting in his head as they both looked at you with a little smile.
”If she were…open to it,”Thor murmured, his tone hushed so only the super soldier could hear,”I wouldn’t mind sharing such beauty with another worthy man.”
The night it happened…the rest of the team was gone. Thor and Steve had invited you to for a glass of wine, and the past couple weeks you had been showered in both their affections.
Yet, this was different. Thor and Steve are sitting on either side of you, making you laugh at something Thor said as you comfortably sat between them on the couch.
Steve’s large hand rubbed over your thigh, making you hyper aware of the boys’ touch. Thor’s hand is pushing your hair out of your face, a smirk on his face when he sees how you squirmed.
“You are quite a beauty, Y/N,”Thor’s thumb caressed your cheek, admiring how you swallowed thickly with Steve’s hand dipping further up your thighs.
Steve’s fingers are pushing your skirt up, the tingling feeling in your core. The super soldier can smell the arousal leaking into your panties.
You feel so overwhelmed by them, but the rush of excitement makes you forget about all the anxiety.
“Boys…”You whispered, chest heaving as Thor forced you to turn your head to him. His eyes are dark, his desire overtaking the color.
“Do you want this, little dove?”Thor asked, glancing at Steve who had just stopped his hand movements at your soaked panties.
“We both want you,”Steve whispered, his hot breath on your neck.”Seen the way you look at us, can smell how wet you are, pretty girl. You can have both…”
“I can?”You asked, licking your lips as you looked at Thor hesitantly.
“You can have anything you want,” told Thor before surging forward to mold his lips over yours. You immediately tremble against him, two fingers rubbing against your clothed clit. Steve kissed down your neck, ripping the fabric of your shirt to reveal your pretty breasts.
“Look at these pretty tits,”Steve groaned, his large hand dipping into your panties until his fingers were covered in slick.
Thor kissed your breath away as Steve stretched your tight cunt with his fingers, his lips leaving bruises over your neck and jaw while Thor groped your breasts.
The blond soldier had four fingers deep inside you, sweet orgasmic bliss washing over your body with soft angelic moans leaving your lips.
“You want this pretty pussy filled, huh?”Thor whispered, licking his lips as he rubbed his thumb over your wet, swollen lips.”Think you’re worthy of being filled with our seed?”
Steve chuckled, pulling your panties down your legs and pushed your skirt up. Thor squeezed your breasts in his large hands before slapping at the swells, making you whimper his name.
“Thor…Steve…”You moaned wantonly, admiring the super soldier as he slipped his tight shirt off and removed his jeans. His hard cock slapped against his abs, his hand stroking the large cock as he towered over you.”I wanna be…”
“Spread those legs for me, little dove,”Steve commanded, slapping his cock against your sopping pussy. He rubbed the large leaking shaft between your folds, letting your juices to slicken his cock.
Thor grabbed your leg, his hand hold your thighs open. One hand of yours is under your other leg’s knee, exposing your eager cunt to the soldier.
“So obedient, isn’t she?”Thor praised, his lips against your ear before he started to kiss down your neck.”So ready to be taken, fuck, that pretty quim’s gonna look so good covered in cum.”
A loud high pitched gasp escaped your lips when the bulbous head of his dick pushed into your tight hole. Your walls spread around Steve, clinging to the thick shaft as he sank in.
“Oh fuck, dove,”Steve grunted, his hand wrapping around your throat tightly. His raw power makes you gush around him. Steve’s fat cock isn’t even half way in and you’re already squirm around him.
“It’s okay, little one,”Thor comforted, the sound of Steve starting to fuck his cock half way into your cunt. With each thrust, he goes a little deeper.”You like this, don’t you? His big cock filling your cute cunt…tell me, love, have you thought of Steve like this before? Touched yourself to the idea of the soldier fucking you?”
You felt embarrassed, face hot at the accusation. You nodded in shame,”Yes, yes, I have…both of you…you’ve been…oh fuck, Captain, it feels so good to be full…”
Steve leaned down, his lips taking over yours until his tongue was exploring your mouth. Thor grunted, his hands going to rub over the massive bulge in his trousers.
“So fucking tight,”Steve muttered, harshly driving his hips into your heat. The wet squelching noises echo from how his massive cock slides right in and out of your tight walls.
Thor’s calloused fingers rubbed down your body, his mouth trailing down to your tits as two fingers circled around your engorged clit. His wet tongue flicked over your perky nipples, biting and sucking until you were a whiny mess.
“You wanna cum, baby?”Steve taunted, vigorously thrusting into you and pushing your legs further apart. He pressed your legs towards your chest where Thor sucked on your tits. He just continued fucking and fucking hard, the pulsing wet pussy milking his cock.
“Yes, yes, yes can I cum? Please, Captain, I-I need it.”
You quivered under his large body, his cock obliterating your cunt as his seed flowed into you. He spurts copious amounts of cum into your heat, drinking up the moans that left your mouth.
“She’s all yours, Thor.”
Thor smirked at the imagery of your cream filled pussy, flipping you over on your hands and knees with Steve laying under you. Cum oozes between your folds, but Thor pushes the super soldier’s cum back into your sensitive cunt.
You nearly collapsed on top of Steve, who just admired the view of you bent over him with Thor pressing into your pussy. You thought Steve was big, but he was just stretching you out…preparing you for the massive length and girth that was Thor’s mighty cock.
You cried out when his fat cock stretched your over sensitive cunt, using your slick and Steve’s cum as a lubricant to push deep inside you.
“Oh, little dove, this pussy is perfect,”Thor groaned loudly, his hands encompassing your hips and pulled you ass back against his cock. Your pussy fluttered around him, pulsing around the massive intrusion.”You’ve been fucked by the Captain, and yet…this sweet cunt just wants more…squeezing me like a fucking vice.”
You placed your hands on Steve’s chest, eyes rolling back as Thor’s gripped grew harsher with each thrust. His cock squelched in the wet heat, cum and slick dripping down from your pussy and his cock onto Steve’s thighs.
“Oh my gods…I-I-oh…”You feel weak already, arms shaking before you collapse onto to Steve. His hands rub over your sides, your hands clawing are his chest with your face hovered over his.
“Is Thor’s cock too much, dove?” Steve mocked, smacking both of his hands over your ass. Thor moaned at the sight, pounding into your core with godly strength. You tremble, his cock rearranging your guts with each thrust.
“It..feels so good…”You mewled, Thor’s harsh thrusts jolting your body against Steve. You kissed the blond soldier passionately as Thor squeezed your ass in his palms.
“Look at you, precious dove, so wrecked and ruined,”Thor smacked down on your ass, driving forward even more aggressively as he chased his own pleasure.”Gonna cum around my cock, since it’s made you so dumb, baby.”
“Yes yes yes,”You cry, tears streaming down your face from the immense pleasure burned through you. You squirt around his massive cock, soaking Steve’s abs in the process.
Thor yanked your hips back hard, his cock throbbing and spilling his godly seed inside your weeping cunt. You feel so full, you’re absolutely dripping and it’s driving Thor wild as he fucked his cum inside of you.
“That’s it, you took us so well, you’re such a good girl, doll,”Steve praised, kissing your lips and brushing your tears away.
“So good, fuck, this little pussy was made for us, made to be bred and taken care by the mighty Thor and Captain Rogers,”Thor licked his lips, tilting his hips just slightly to make you whine.
Thor pulled out, picking you up and motioning for Steve to follow along to his bedroom so they can lay you out on the bed and praise you. They smother you in affections and sweet words.
Your pussy is sore, dripping with white hot cum as Thor and Steve kissed over every inch of your body. You can’t help the gasps that leave your lips, and you just know how they aren’t really done with you.
“Such a pretty girl,”Steve murmured, his lips dancing over your breasts while Thor kissed over your thighs, licking and biting marks into the soft skin.”Our girl looks so good with a messy pussy, just soaking up our cum…”
“We’ve should’ve been breeding this cunt a long time ago, Captain,”Thor grunted, licking his lips at the sight of their mess leaking out of you.”Just think about how pretty she’d look with more cum, should fuck her till she’s swollen…just so full of cum that there’s no way she isn’t with child…”
It’s so feral, the way he says it like it’s his deepest desire and you just know you’re about to be filled over and over again.
”You know, Thor,”Steve smirked, caressing your face softly in thought before kissing your lips,”sharing…isn’t so bad when you find someone worthy…”
Toto Wolff with wife reader. Doing a hot lap and him being concerned about her driving because usually he's the one who drives. Fluff and fun. Maybe suggestive 🫣 Thanks!! :))
WHY DO YOU THINK IT TOOK ME SO LONG?// TW \\ one-shot
pairing: Toto Wolff x wife!reader
description: Someone else sits behind the ˝Hot Lap˝ wheel...
word count: 464 words
warnings: none, a smidge suggestive, toto doesn't trust your driving abilities
Usually, it's an F1 driver that drives a Hot Lap. Yet, here you were, getting into the driver's seat of a Mercedes AMG-GT for the first time. Your husband, Toto, already sat in the passenger seat, laughing at you.
You hated driving. It was the most annoying part of your day. No, you didn't hate the act itself. You hated the slowness and shitty people on the road. So when Lewis and George practically forced you to do a Hot Lap, you weren't expecting you'd be driving the Supercar.
˝You alright, schatzi?˝ Toto asked as you buckled your seatbelt. ˝ I know you hate driving...¨ He continued. The statement made you giggle.
˝I hate the slowness of everyday driving... But this...˝ You say with a smirk, pushing your foot down on the pedal. The car revs and Toto's eyes widened. ˝... is more my style.˝
The car lunged forward, your hands controlling the steering wheel. Toto gripped anything he could, looking over at you.
˝What do you mean by this is your style?˝ His eyes widened. ˝Watch the turns, love!˝
˝Don't worry, I got my eyes on the road!˝ You giggle, expertly avoiding hitting a wall. ˝I wanted to be an F1 driver, ya know?˝ He looks over again, smiling at you.
˝Ja? I can see that... Maybe I should put in next season...˝ He laughs, making you smile.
˝I'll win you the championship, love!˝ You laugh, making another turn, making Toto lean towards you. He laughs and sits up properly in the seat.
˝I'm looking forward to it!... Watch out!˝ He screams, making you turn suddenly. You grunted.
˝Stop yelling! I know what I'm doing!˝ You purposefully swerve the car, making Toto panic and grab anything he could. You laugh and he huffs. ˝How about... I try to donut˝
˝ABSOLUTELY NOT!˝ Toto screams as you already start turning the steering wheel.
˝Too late!˝ You giggle, turning the car in circles. Toto begins to hyperventilate and you laugh at him again. Slowly, you bring the car on a straight trajectory.
˝You are an idiot! We could have crashed!˝ He screamed as the car came to a stop.
˝But we didn't...˝ You step out, taking the helmet off your head. He follows you, rounding the car to get to your side.
˝This only solidified the fact I'll be driving from now on. I'm not getting in the car if you're driving!˝ He said, making you laugh.
˝But you'll let me ride?˝ You say with a smirk, wiggling your brows. He rolls his eyes and walks faster. ˝Hey!˝ You run to catch up with him.
After a few secounds of silence, you decide to speak.
˝Can I ask you something, love?˝ You ask and he hums. ˝Why do you think I failed my driving test so many times?˝ You ask with a smirk, making Toto turn to you with wide eyes.
˝That's it! I'm not letting you drive anymore!˝
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TAGS
@yllomhej @walldemons @shelbyteller @reidsworld @pear-1206
@cheyxfu @lightdragonrayne @noooway555
if anyone else wants to be added, DM me or enter your username in the google form pinned on my blog!
could i req being an f1 dilf's race engineer during their prime? like for ex. seb in his red bull era, jenson in brawn, fernando in renault, etc
a/n: knew I watched brawn gp documentary for a reason 🤭🤭 how you didn’t mention mark’s prime 😔✊
— jenson button
When you discovered Honda was going to resign, you had no idea how to go on. Of course, Jenson was your first priority – all the eyes were on the only female race engineer. They doubted you, snickered at you, and didn’t believe the team could make it. ‘Fuck them all, darling,’ and you’re here celebrating his win for the hundredth time. Drowned in champagne, dress hunched up a bit too far, or your heels in Jenson’s hand – he loved every moment of it. When you calm him down with only your voice in his ear or hug him when the whole world only cared for who’s P1. And, he loves kissing you pumping with adrenaline, camera flashing for the best angle.
— sebastian vettel
Sebastian was a menace. He is the lion of Singapore, and doesn’t apologize for winning. You loved being the one he mentioned you while soaking in sweat, smiling at his place in P1. ‘my lovely race engineer…’ Rumors spreading like wildfire but you two couldn’t give two fucks, saying you were good only for the sake of your driver. And he couldn’t care less, he got the hottest and smartest race engineer, and he’s wrapped around your little fingers. Obviously, there were times when he’s a dick, never listens to your advice, and he’s unapologetic about it – leaving him breathless when you pulled his Red Bull collar into a kiss to get him to think straight. ‘…do that again, schatz.’
— mark webber
His time in Red Bull was the most bittersweet moment of his life – and, of course, you were his heavenly sent angel in the midst of the stormy night. He would, and will, calm down whenever he hears your sweet voice in his comms. He blamed himself for not fighting harder for his place…and not fighting even harder for you, while the rest argued differently. And don’t even get me started on kissing him on his stubble good luck before any race – gripping your headset whenever he’s close to lifting off the ground, asking if he’s okay before even checking the piece of metal. ‘I’m alright, sugar..’ And then there are times when he kissed you too hard for getting that P1, showing you off.
— fernando alonso
One thing about villains was they know how to fight for what they love: Fernando included. He knows you were perfectly capable of protecting yourself against the stupid comments media had to offer, but he wouldn’t mind stepping in. Getting win after wins, other teams played suspecting eyes, claiming all the things they could. But you’ve tried to play under the radar, avoiding drama anywhere you walked on the grid. Hell, you can’t even be seen near other team’s drivers. And he doesn’t mind; plus, he knew he had the sweetest race engineer under his belt – and he doesn’t plan on letting go anytime soon. Just until you said I love you on the team radio, leaving him with a big smirk. ‘mi hermosa.’
😳
Possessive Toto is mad at you 🥵😳🙏
Beneath the Surface
Warnings: Depression, Eating Disorder, Emotional Distress, Mental Health Struggles
Summary: Y/n, struggling with depression and an eating disorder, feels trapped in her own darkness, unable to confide in her husband, Toto Wolff, for fear of burdening him. Despite her attempts to hide her pain, Toto notices the changes in her and becomes increasingly concerned.
Pairing: Toto Wolff x reader
Word count: 869
If you need help please don´t shy away and confide in someone for help. your feelings are valid.
______________________________________________________________
Y/n stared blankly out of the window, her eyes tracing the familiar skyline of England. The sun was setting, casting a warm, golden hue over the city, but she felt nothing. The world outside was vibrant, alive with color and energy, but inside, she was a hollow shell, trapped in a gray fog that refused to lift.
Toto had left early that morning, heading to the Mercedes factory for yet another meeting. His life was a whirlwind of decisions, deadlines, and constant pressure. Y/n had always admired his drive and ambition, the way he could juggle a million things at once and still come home to her with a smile. But lately, that smile felt like a spotlight, one she couldn't bear to stand under.
She sighed, her hand drifting to the untouched plate of food in front of her. The thought of eating made her stomach turn, a wave of guilt crashing over her for the third time that day. The food wasn’t the problem—she was. Her mind was a battlefield, a war she had been losing for months now. The depression had crept in slowly, like a shadow lengthening in the afternoon sun, until it swallowed her whole.
And the eating disorder? That was her secret weapon, the twisted coping mechanism she clung to in a desperate attempt to feel some semblance of control. But the control was an illusion, and she knew it. It was a spiral, one that tightened around her like a noose, leaving her breathless and panicked.
She couldn’t tell Toto. The very thought of burdening him with her darkness made her chest ache. He had enough on his plate, running a Formula 1 team and maintaining the image of a calm, collected leader. He didn’t need her problems on top of that.
But Toto noticed. He always did.
He had seen the way her clothes hung a little looser on her frame, the way her smile never quite reached her eyes anymore. He noticed how she pushed food around on her plate, claiming she wasn’t hungry, or that she had eaten earlier. He watched as the light in her eyes dimmed, replaced by a distant, haunted look that broke his heart.
Toto was no stranger to pressure and stress, but the sight of his wife slipping away from him was a different kind of pain, one he didn’t know how to fight. He had tried to bring it up gently, asking if she was okay, if there was anything she wanted to talk about. Each time, she brushed him off with a weak smile and a quick excuse.
But Toto wasn’t fooled. He knew something was terribly wrong, and the longer she kept him at arm’s length, the more desperate he became to help her.
One evening, he came home earlier than usual, hoping to catch her before she retreated into the solitude of their bedroom. He found her sitting at the kitchen table, staring blankly at a cup of tea that had long gone cold.
“Y/n,” he called softly, not wanting to startle her.
She looked up, startled anyway, and quickly forced a smile. “Hey, I didn’t hear you come in. How was your day?”
Toto walked over, pulling out the chair next to her and sitting down. He took her hand in his, noting how thin and cold it felt. “It was fine,” he said, keeping his voice gentle. “But I’m more worried about how your day was.”
Y/n’s smile faltered, and she looked away, unable to meet his eyes. “I’m fine, Toto. Just a little tired, that’s all.”
He squeezed her hand, his heart aching at the way she tried to downplay her struggles. “Y/n, you’re not fine. I can see that something is wrong, and it’s killing me that you won’t let me in.”
Her eyes filled with tears, and she quickly blinked them away, shaking her head. “I don’t want to burden you with my problems. You have enough to deal with already.”
Toto’s expression softened, and he reached out to gently cup her cheek, turning her face toward him. “You are never a burden to me, Y/n. You’re my wife, my partner in everything. If you’re hurting, then I’m hurting too. Please, let me help you.”
The dam broke then. The tears she had been holding back for so long spilled over, and she crumpled into his arms, sobbing uncontrollably. Toto held her tightly, his own eyes damp as he whispered soothing words, promising her that they would get through this together.
“I’m so sorry,” she choked out between sobs. “I didn’t know how to tell you. I feel so lost, so out of control, and I didn’t want to drag you down with me.”
“You don’t have to go through this alone,” Toto murmured, stroking her hair. “We’ll find help, Y/n. We’ll get through this, one step at a time. But you have to trust me, and let me in. We’re a team, remember?”
She nodded against his chest, the weight of her secret finally lifting, if only a little. “I’m scared, Toto.”
“I know,” he whispered. “But we’ll face it together, every step of the way.”
hiiii i loveee your fics pls do more 🫶🏾
lando request where his love language is physical touch but y/n likes her space and ye i trust you to make up the rest!
i love u🩶
✮ To Feel - Lando Norris
lando norris x fem!reader
sy: after a long day of work, lando longs to console you with his physical affection.
a/n: completing a request has gotta be on the top5 most rewarding feelings ever. & i have 2 max and 1 carlos fics that im working on cause rn ive only being getting the lando reqs out the way🙈
warnings: nothinggg just fluff.
lando had to be one of the most clingiest guys to ever walk the earth. literally.
it was a daily, better yet hourly, struggle for him to have completely opposite love languages to you. he needed the closeness, the warmth and energy he would gain from touching you, holding you. unlike you, who needed your space and was definitely the furthest from being a touchy person.
it was a particular afternoon in Monaco, where you heard your boyfriend streaming in your shared game room, after you had completed a long and tormenting 9-hour shift.
you plodded tiredly through the door, with a slight wobble and instability. countless yawns pushed through straightaway, your limbs heavy and full with ache.
upon reaching the sofa, you flopped onto it in your lounge, swallowed by the plush cushions with contact.
as a secretary doctor, your hours would consume most hours of your day, also haunting you with lethargy. needless to say, it was a tensile job which required tons of worth ethic—causing you to fall into a slumber within seconds of arriving home.
just like today.
your eyelids were opaque, your posture slumped, and it was no surprise that you would soon become unconscious with the dull pressure resting on your shoulders.
“hey babe?” you heard lando ring out, his footsteps getting closer. “are you back? i heard the front door lock.”
your efforts to speak were impractical, as you managed to muster up a wordless mumble. lando located you sprawled across the sofa, cuddling a plush cushion close to your chest. lando recognised this from before: the way you would tightly smother something close to your body, feeling like that would wash the pain away.
it was almost like your signature gesture for when you were struggling.
“babe?” he called again, softer this time. he crouched down next to the sofa, hesitant to reach out; his features pulled into a small sympathetic smile. he found it difficult to console you in times like this, as he wasn’t as good with his words than he was touch.
guilt was flooding through his veins as he knew he was unable to help in what he does best: hugs.
“are you okay huh? another long shift?”
“yeah, just tired.” you responded lazily, voice thick with sleep. lando was concerned about your health recently, as this was the 4th time this week you had came home in a fatigued state, and it was only friday.
“we need to do something about this y/n, this isn’t healthy.” he said firmly, with an unmistakable sigh fanning heat into your face.
“im fine alright? i just need some sleep.” you respond with a yawn, only opening your eyes to just about see your boyfriend.
even with less than half of your vision, you could feel the worry lacing through his head, his brows furrowed with a sad frown curling at his lips.
lando complied, figuring this wasn’t the best time to argue about your mental and physical health.
as you eyes flutter shut again, his fingers crawled hesitantly closer to your arm, longing to console you.
lando couldn’t further resist the temptation, feeling submitted to plant a lingering peck on your forehead—it was gentle and unobtrusive, allowing you to drift a little closer to sleep without pulling away.
the soft touch tingled at your skin, but the exhaustion weighed down any discomfort that you would normally sense.
the brunette felt a rush of adrenaline, accepting the fact that you didn’t pull away this time which made him sheepishly smirk and cheeks pink.
“c’mere.” lando glided your flats from your feet, gently tossing them to the side; he lifted your legs onto the sofa, draping a blanket across your body.
from the little space left on the sofa, lando seats himself next to your head although still afraid to reach for you.
you could feel the tension between you two, how much he was longing to caress your cold skin. but as the seconds passed by, your breaths became shallow, and body more still.
you stretched ever so slightly, your arm now draping over lando’s knee and subconsciously rested your head upon his leg.
lando hesitated, “y/n?”
you didn’t reply: already fallen asleep with little snores erupting from your lips. lando felt his muscles relax at your touch, an unfamiliar feeling that he wasn’t used to, but loved.
“sweet dreams beautiful,” he whispered gently, subtly rubbing circles onto your temple. lando was afraid to do anymore, halting when you stirred in your sleep.
he appreciated the moment then, realising it wouldn’t last forever. he cherished the feeling of being able to comfort you after a long day—the way he finally wanted.
lando smiled to himself, rubbing his eyes as the drowsiness was creeping upon him too.
he carefully craned his neck down, close enough to your ear but far enough so he wouldn’t disturb you.
“i’ll be here when you wake up baby, i love you.”
Unremembered
Max Verstappen x Reader
Summary: imagine looking the love of your life in their eyes and seeing a stranger stare back — but Max doesn’t have to imagine, not when this is his reality
Warnings: serious injury and memory loss
The roar of the V6 engine fills Max’s ears as he navigates the twists and turns of the Zandvoort circuit. It’s the first practice session of the Dutch Grand Prix weekend, and Max is in his element, pushing his Red Bull to its limits.
Suddenly, his race engineer’s voice crackles through the radio. “Max, box this lap. Come back to the garage.”
Max furrows his brow, confused. “What? Why? The car feels fine.”
“Max, just box now. It’s important,” GP insists, his tone unusually stern.
Reluctantly, Max steers his car into the pit lane, frustration building. As he pulls into the garage, he notices an unusual flurry of activity. His performance coach, Rupert, is waiting with a grim expression.
“Max, out of the car. Now,” Rupert says urgently.
Max climbs out, yanking off his helmet. “What’s going on? Why did you pull me in?”
Rupert takes a deep breath. “Max, I answered a call on your phone while you were out there. It was the hospital.”
Max’s heart skips a beat. “The hospital? What”
“It’s about Y/N,” Rupert says softly. “She was in a car accident on her way here. It’s ... it’s serious, Max. They’ve taken her to the trauma center.”
The world seems to tilt on its axis. Max grabs Rupert’s arm to steady himself. “What? No, that can’t ... is she okay?”
Rupert shakes his head. “I don’t know. They didn’t give me details. But they said you should come right away.”
Without another word, Max bolts towards the exit. Rupert calls after him, “I’ll drive you!”
The car ride to the hospital is a blur. Max stares out the window, his mind racing. “This can’t be happening,” he mutters. “We were just talking this morning. She was excited to watch practice ...”
Rupert glances at him sympathetically. “Try not to assume the worst. Y/N’s tough. She’ll pull through this.”
Max nods numbly, willing himself to believe it. They screech to a halt outside the emergency entrance, and Max is out of the car before Rupert can even put it in park.
At the reception desk, Max’s words tumble out in a panicked rush. “My girlfriend was brought in. Car accident. Y/N Y/L/N. Where is she?”
The nurse types rapidly. “She’s in surgery right now. If you’ll have a seat in the waiting area, the doctor will come speak with you as soon as possible.”
Max paces the waiting room like a caged animal, running his hands through his hair. Rupert tries to calm him, but Max barely hears him. After what feels like an eternity, a doctor approaches.
“Are you here for Y/N Y/L/N?”
Max nods frantically. “Yes, I’m her boyfriend. Is she okay?”
The doctor’s expression is grave. “She’s out of surgery now. The accident was very serious. She has multiple broken bones and internal injuries. We’ve stabilized her, but ...”
“But what?” Max demands, his voice cracking.
“She suffered a significant head injury. There’s swelling in her brain. We won’t know the full extent of the damage until she wakes up.”
Max sways on his feet. Rupert steadies him with a hand on his shoulder. “Can I see her?” Max asks weakly.
The doctor nods. “She’s in the ICU. I must warn you, she’s heavily sedated and on a ventilator. It may be distressing to see her like this.”
Max follows the doctor down sterile hallways, his heart pounding. When they reach Y/N’s room, he freezes in the doorway. The sight of her lying there, battered and bruised, hooked up to machines, is like a physical blow.
He approaches the bed slowly, tears welling in his eyes. “Y/N,” he whispers, gently taking her hand. “I’m here. You’re going to be okay. You have to be okay.”
Hours pass. Max refuses to leave her side, holding her hand and talking to her softly. Nurses come and go. Rupert brings him coffee that goes cold, untouched.
As evening falls, Max notices her fingers twitch. He leans forward eagerly. “Y/N? Can you hear me?”
Her eyelids flutter, then slowly open. Max’s heart soars. “Y/N! Oh, thank God. You’re awake. How do you feel?”
But something’s wrong. Her eyes are unfocused, confused. She looks at Max blankly, then around the room in bewilderment.
“Where ... where am I?” She croaks, her voice hoarse from the ventilator tube that was recently removed.
“You’re in the hospital,” Max explains gently. “You were in an accident, but you’re going to be okay now.”
She frowns, struggling to process. “An accident? I don’t ... I don’t remember ...”
Max squeezes her hand reassuringly. “That’s okay. Don’t worry about that now. I’m just so glad you’re awake.”
But she pulls her hand away, shrinking back slightly. Her eyes narrow as she studies his face. “I’m sorry, but ... who are you?”
***
Max’s world comes crashing down with those three simple words. He stares at you, his mouth agape, unable to process what he’s just heard. The room suddenly feels too small, too hot, too bright.
“Who ... who am I?” Max repeats, his voice barely above a whisper. “Y/N, it’s me. It’s Max. Your boyfriend.”
You shake your head slowly, wincing at the movement. “I’m sorry, I don’t ... I don’t know you. I don’t remember having a boyfriend.”
Max’s heart shatters into a million pieces. He takes a step back, running a trembling hand through his hair. “Okay, okay,” he mutters, more to himself than to you. “The doctor said there might be ... complications. This is just temporary. It has to be.”
You watch him warily, confusion and fear evident in your eyes. “I don’t understand what’s happening. Why can’t I remember anything?”
Max takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He needs to be strong for you, even if you don’t know who he is. “You were in a car accident,” he explains gently. “You hit your head pretty badly. The doctors said there might be some memory loss, but ... I didn’t think ...”
His voice trails off as he sees tears welling up in your eyes. “I’m scared,” you whisper. “I don’t remember the accident. I don’t remember coming here. I don’t even know what day it is.”
Max instinctively reaches out to comfort you, but stops himself, realizing his touch might not be welcome. “It’s okay to be scared,” he says softly. “But you’re not alone. I’m here for you, even if you don’t remember me right now.”
A nurse enters the room, breaking the tension. She smiles warmly at you. “It’s good to see you awake. How are you feeling?”
You turn to her, relief evident in your voice. “Everything hurts and I’m so confused. I can’t remember anything.”
The nurse nods sympathetically. “That’s not uncommon with head injuries. Try not to worry too much. Your memories may come back gradually as the swelling in your brain goes down.”
Max interjects, his voice tight with worry. “But she will remember, right? This isn’t ... permanent?”
The nurse’s expression turns cautious. “Every case is different. We’ll need to run some more tests now that she’s awake. The neurologist will be by soon to evaluate her.”
Max nods numbly, feeling like he’s trapped in a nightmare he can’t wake up from. The nurse checks your vitals and adjusts your medication before leaving the room.
An uncomfortable silence falls. You fidget with the edge of your blanket, avoiding Max’s gaze. “So ... we’re together?” You ask hesitantly.
Max nods, a sad smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, for almost two years now. We live together in Monaco.”
Your eyes widen. “Monaco? But I’m ... I’m not rich. At least, I don’t think I am.”
Despite everything, Max can’t help but chuckle. “No, but I am. I’m a Formula 1 driver. That’s why we were here in the Netherlands. It’s race weekend, and you were coming to watch me practice.”
You shake your head in disbelief. “This is so strange. It’s like you’re talking about someone else’s life. I can’t imagine dating a famous race car driver.”
Max’s heart clenches at your words. He pulls out his phone, scrolling through photos. “Here,” he says, holding it out to you. “Maybe these will help jog your memory.”
You take the phone hesitantly, swiping through picture after picture of the two of you together. At the beach, at fancy galas, cuddled up on the couch. In every photo, you both look blissfully happy.
“We look ... so in love,” you murmur, your brow furrowed in concentration.
“We are,” Max says softly. “Or at least, we were. I still am.”
You hand the phone back, your expression troubled. “I’m sorry. I wish I could remember. You seem like a really nice guy, and clearly we had something special, but ... it’s all blank.”
Max swallows hard, fighting back tears. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault. We’ll figure this out together, I promise.”
Just then, a doctor enters the room. “Ah, good to see you awake,” he says briskly. “I’m Dr. Smeets, the neurologist on your case. How are you feeling?”
You explain your symptoms and memory loss while the doctor makes notes. Max hovers anxiously in the background, hanging on every word.
“Well,” Dr. Smeets says finally, “the good news is that your physical injuries are progressing nicely. The memory loss is concerning, but not entirely unexpected given the trauma to your brain.”
“Will she get her memories back?” Max asks, unable to keep the desperation from his voice.
The doctor’s expression is guarded. “It’s impossible to say for certain. Retrograde amnesia can be unpredictable. Sometimes memories return quickly, sometimes it takes months or even years. And in some cases ...”
“Some cases what?” Max presses.
Dr. Smeets sighs. “In some cases, the memories never fully return. But,” he adds quickly, seeing the stricken look on Max’s face, “that’s relatively rare. The best thing you can do is be patient. Surround her with familiar people and places. Sometimes sensory triggers can help unlock memories.”
Max nods, clinging to that small hope. “Thank you, doctor. What’s the next step?”
“We’ll keep her here for observation for a few more days, run some more tests. After that, assuming there are no complications, she can be discharged to recover at home.”
After the doctor leaves, Max turns to you with forced cheerfulness. “See? That’s good news. You’ll be out of here soon, and then we can go home and work on getting your memories back.”
You shift uncomfortably. “I don’t know if I’m ready for that. Going ... home with you. I mean, you seem great, but you’re still a stranger to me.”
Max feels like he’s been punched in the gut, but he forces himself to nod. “Of course. I understand. We’ll figure something out. Maybe you can stay with your parents for a while?”
You nod, looking relieved. “That sounds better. I remember my parents, at least.”
An awkward silence falls. Max clears his throat. “Do you want me to call them?”
“Would you mind? I don’t even know where my phone is.”
Max steps out into the hallway to make the call, grateful for a moment to collect himself. When he returns, you’re looking out the window, lost in thought.
“They’re on their way,” Max says softly. “They’ll be here in a few hours.”
You turn to him, your expression softening slightly. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”
Max shrugs. “Of course I did. I care about you, even if you don’t remember that right now.”
You study him for a long moment. “Can you ... can you tell me about us? How we met, what our life is like? Maybe it’ll help bring something back.”
Max’s heart leaps at the request. He pulls a chair closer to your bed and begins to talk, recounting the story of your relationship. How you met at a charity event, how nervous he was to ask you out, your first date at a little Italian restaurant in Monaco.
As he speaks, you listen intently, searching your mind for any flicker of recognition. But the memories remain frustratingly out of reach, like trying to grasp smoke.
“I’m sorry,” you say finally, interrupting his story about your first vacation together. “None of this is ringing any bells. It all sounds wonderful, but ... it’s like you’re talking about someone else’s life.”
Max tries to hide his disappointment. “It’s okay. The doctor said it might take time. We just have to be patient.”
You nod, but your expression is troubled. “What if ... what if I never remember? What if these memories are just gone forever?”
Max takes a deep breath, steeling himself. “Then we’ll make new ones,” he says firmly. “I love you, Y/N. That hasn’t changed. If I have to make you fall in love with me all over again, I will.”
You look at him, a mix of emotions playing across your face. “That’s ... that’s incredibly sweet. But what if I’m not the same person anymore? What if the me you fell in love with is gone?”
Max shakes his head vehemently. “That’s not possible. You’re still you, even if you can’t remember everything right now. The core of who you are, that hasn’t changed. I know it.”
You don’t look convinced, but you offer him a small smile. “I hope you’re right.”
Just then, a commotion in the hallway catches their attention. Your parents burst into the room, faces etched with worry.
“Oh, sweetheart!” Your mother cries, rushing to your bedside. “We were so worried!”
Your face lights up with recognition. “Mom! Dad!” You exclaim, reaching out to hug them.
Max steps back, giving your family space for their reunion. He watches with a mixture of relief and jealousy as you interact easily with your parents, the rapport between you unchanged by your memory loss.
After a few minutes, your father turns to Max. “Thank you for calling us, and for being here with her.”
Max nods, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Of course. I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”
Your mother looks between Max and you, sensing the tension. “Is everything okay?”
You bite your lip, looking uncomfortable. “Mom, I-I can’t remember Max. Or anything about our relationship. The doctor says I have amnesia from the accident.”
Your parents exchange worried glances. Your father puts a comforting hand on Max’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry, son. This must be incredibly difficult for you both.”
Max nods, not trusting himself to speak. Your mother turns to you. “But surely you remember something? You and Max have been so happy together.”
You shake your head sadly. “I’m trying, but it’s all blank. I’m sorry.”
An awkward silence falls over the room. Finally, your father clears his throat. “Well, the important thing is that you’re going to be okay. We’ll figure out the rest as we go.”
Max nods in agreement, but inside, he’s screaming. How can he just stand by and watch as the love of his life slips away? But he knows he has to be patient, to give you space to heal and hopefully remember.
“I should probably go,” he says reluctantly. “Let you have some time with your family.”
You nod, looking relieved. “Thank you for staying with me. And for ... for everything.”
Max forces a smile. “Of course. I’ll be back tomorrow, if that’s okay?”
You hesitate for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, that’s fine. Maybe ... maybe you can bring some more photos? Or videos? Something that might help trigger my memory?”
Max’s heart swells with hope. “Absolutely. I’ll bring everything I can think of.”
As he turns to leave, you call out softly. “Max?”
He turns back, his breath catching in his throat. “Yeah?”
You give him a small, uncertain smile. “I’m glad I have someone like you in my life. Even if I can’t remember it right now.”
Max blinks back tears as he nods. “Always,” he whispers. “I’m always here for you.”
***
Max trudges into his hotel suite, the weight of the day pressing down on him like a physical force. He closes the door behind him, leaning against it for a moment, eyes closed, trying to steady his breathing. The room is dark and quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos of emotions swirling inside him.
He fumbles for the light switch, wincing as the bright overhead lights flicker on. The suite feels cavernous and empty without you here. Your suitcase sits untouched in the corner, a painful reminder of the plans you’d made for this weekend.
Max’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He pulls it out, seeing a flood of missed calls and messages. His team, his family, the media — all clamoring for information, for his attention. He can’t deal with any of it right now.
With trembling hands, he switches off his phone and tosses it onto the bed. He paces the room, energy thrumming through his body with nowhere to go. He should shower, should eat something, should call his manager and figure out what to do about the race weekend. But he can’t bring himself to do any of it.
Instead, he finds himself drawn to your suitcase. He kneels beside it, running his hand over the familiar fabric. Slowly, almost reverently, he unzips it. Your neatly folded clothes, your favorite perfume, the book you’d been reading on the plane — all these little pieces of you, reminders of the life you shared.
Max pulls out one of your sweaters, burying his face in the soft material. It still smells like you. And suddenly, the dam breaks.
A sob tears from his throat, raw and primal. Tears he’s held back for years, through every hardship and setback, finally break free. Max crumples to the floor, clutching your sweater to his chest as he weeps.
“Why?” He chokes out between sobs. “Why her? Why us?”
The tears keep coming, relentless. Max cries for the pain you’re in, for the memories you’ve lost, for the future that suddenly seems so uncertain. He cries for the little boy who was left alone at a gas station, for the young man who walked away from a horrific crash. He cries for every emotion he’s ever pushed down, every vulnerability he’s hidden behind a mask of determination and focus.
Through his tears, he hears a knock at the door. He ignores it, unable to face anyone right now. But the knocking persists, followed by a familiar voice.
“Max? It’s me. Open up, mate.”
Max considers pretending he’s not here, but he knows Daniel won’t give up easily.bWiping his face on his sleeve, Max staggers to his feet and opens the door. Daniel takes one look at his tear-stained face and immediately pulls him into a tight hug.
“Oh, mate,” Daniel says softly. “I just heard. I’m so sorry.”
Max breaks down again, sobbing into Daniel’s shoulder. Daniel doesn’t say anything, just holds him tightly, letting him cry it out.
Finally, Max pulls away, embarrassed. “Sorry,” he mutters, wiping his eyes. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Daniel steers him towards the couch, closing the door behind them. “Nothing’s wrong with you, Max. You’re hurting. It’s okay to let it out.”
Max collapses onto the couch, feeling utterly drained. Daniel sits beside him, his usual joking demeanor replaced by genuine concern.
“Talk to me,” Daniel urges gently. “What happened?”
Max takes a shuddering breath. “She doesn’t remember me. She looked right at me and had no idea who I was. It’s like ... it’s like the last two years never happened for her.”
Daniel winces in sympathy. “That’s rough, mate. But the doctors think it’s temporary, right?”
Max shrugs helplessly. “They don’t know. It might come back, it might not. And even if it does, how long will it take? Weeks? Months? Years?”
“And you’re worried she won’t fall for you again,” Daniel says softly, understanding dawning on his face.
Max nods miserably. “What if she doesn’t? What if the girl I fell in love with is just ... gone? I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to be around her when she doesn’t even know me.”
Daniel is quiet for a moment, considering. “You know,” he says finally, “when I first met Y/N, I thought you were crazy.”
Max looks up, confused. “What do you mean?”
Daniel grins. “Come on, mate. Mad Max settling down with a normal girl? I thought for sure it was just a phase, that you’d get bored and move on to the next model or whatever.”
Max bristles slightly. “Y/N’s not just some normal girl. She’s-”
“I know, I know,” Daniel interrupts, holding up his hands. “That’s my point. It didn’t take long for me to see how special she is, and how perfect you two are together. You bring out the best in each other. That connection, that spark — it’s still there, Max. Even if she can’t remember it right now.”
Max shakes his head. “You don’t understand. You didn’t see her in that hospital bed, looking at me like I was a total stranger. It was like ... like everything we had just disappeared in an instant.”
Daniel leans forward, his expression serious. “Listen to me. The memories might be gone for now, but the feelings? The connection you two have? That doesn’t just disappear. It’s still there, buried deep inside her. You just have to be patient and give her time to find it again.”
Max wants to believe him, but doubt gnaws at his heart. “What if she doesn’t want to? What if she decides she’s better off without me?”
Daniel scoffs. “Not a chance, mate. You’re Max fucking Verstappen. What girl wouldn’t want you?”
The joke falls flat. Max just stares at the floor, shoulders slumped. Daniel sighs, realizing humor isn’t the answer right now.
“Look,” he says softly, “I know you’re scared. But think about it this way — you’ve been given a chance to fall in love all over again. To experience all those firsts one more time. It’s not ideal, sure, but it’s not the end of the world either.”
Max looks up, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “You really think she could fall for me again?”
Daniel grins. “Are you kidding? She fell for you once when you were an arrogant little shit. Now that you’re slightly less of an arrogant little shit, it should be a piece of cake.”
Despite everything, Max finds himself chuckling. “Thanks, asshole.”
Daniel’s expression turns serious again. “I mean it, though. You can’t give up. Y/N needs you now more than ever, even if she doesn’t realize it. You have to be strong for her.”
Max nods slowly. “I know. I just ... I don’t know how to do this. How to be around her when she doesn’t know me. When she looks at me like I’m a stranger.”
Daniel considers this for a moment. “Maybe that’s your advantage. You get to introduce yourself to her all over again. Show her the Max that she fell in love with in the first place.”
Max mulls this over. “I guess ... I guess that could work. But what if I screw it up? What if I say or do the wrong thing and push her away?”
Daniel claps him on the shoulder. “That’s where your friends come in. We’ve got your back. Whatever you need, we’re here for you. Both of you.”
For the first time since the accident, Max feels a spark of genuine hope. “Thanks. Really. I don’t know what I’d do without you guys.”
Daniel grins. “Probably crash and burn spectacularly. But that’s why we keep you around — you’re entertaining.”
Max rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling now. “Seriously, though. How do I do this? How do I help her remember without overwhelming her?”
Daniel thinks for a moment. “Start small. Don’t dump your whole history on her at once. Share little stories, show her pictures. Let her get to know you again naturally. And most importantly, be patient. This isn’t a race you can win by pushing harder. It’s a marathon, not a sprint.”
Max nods, feeling a sense of determination replacing his earlier despair. “You’re right. I can do this. I have to do this. For her.”
Daniel smiles, seeing the familiar fire returning to his friend’s eyes. “That’s the Max I know. Now, have you eaten anything? Because I’m starving, and room service is calling my name.”
Max realizes he hasn’t eaten since breakfast. “Food sounds good,” he admits.
As Daniel picks up the phone to order, Max’s thoughts turn to you. He imagines you in that hospital bed, scared and confused. He makes a silent promise to himself, and to you, that he’ll do whatever it takes to help you remember. And if you can’t remember, he’ll make new memories with you, ones just as beautiful as the ones you’ve lost.
The rest of the evening passes in a blur of food, conversation, and planning. Daniel helps Max sort through the flood of messages on his phone, crafting responses to his team and family. They decide that Max will skip the rest of the race weekend — his mind isn’t in the right place to drive safely, and you need him more than the team does right now.
As the night wears on, Daniel eventually leaves, extracting a promise from Max to call if he needs anything. Left alone, Max finds himself drawn once again to your suitcase. This time, instead of breaking down, he begins to pack a bag.
Photos, mementos, little things that might spark a memory — he carefully selects items to bring to the hospital tomorrow. As he works, he talks to you in his mind, imagining what he’ll say when he sees you again.
“I know you’re scared,” he murmurs, folding one of your favorite hoodies. “I’m scared too. But we’re going to get through this together. I’m not giving up on us, Y/N. Not now, not ever.”
As he zips up the bag, Max feels a renewed sense of purpose. The road ahead won’t be easy, but he’s ready to face it. Because at the end of that road is you, and a love worth fighting for.
Max crawls into bed, exhausted but no longer despairing. As he drifts off to sleep, his last thought is of you. Of your smile, your laugh, the way your eyes light up when you look at him. He holds onto these memories, these precious fragments of your life together, knowing that somehow, someway, he’ll find a way to share them with you again.
Tomorrow is a new day, a new chance to help you remember. And Max Verstappen has never been one to back down from a challenge.
***
The sun is barely peeking over the horizon as Max makes his way through the quiet hospital corridors. His footsteps echo in the empty hallway, the bag slung over his shoulder feeling heavier with each step. Inside are the stuffed versions of Jimmy and Sassy, and your favorite hoodie —his hoodie, really, but you’ve claimed it as your own.
As he approaches your room, Max takes a deep breath, steeling himself. He knocks softly before entering, not wanting to startle you if you’re asleep.
You’re awake, sitting up in bed and staring out the window. When you turn to look at him, there’s a flicker of recognition in your eyes, but it’s followed quickly by confusion.
“Max, right?” You say hesitantly.
Max forces a smile, trying to hide the pain those words cause. “That’s right. How are you feeling this morning?”
You shrug, wincing slightly at the movement. “Sore. Confused. But the doctors say I’m healing well, physically at least.”
Max nods, moving closer to the bed. “That’s good. I, uh, I brought some things for you. I thought they might help make you more comfortable.”
You eye the bag curiously. “Oh? That’s ... that’s very kind of you.”
Max sets the bag on the bed and starts unpacking. First, he pulls out the stuffed cats. “These are Jimmy and Sassy,” he explains. “Well, stuffed versions of them. They’re our cats. You can’t travel without these because you miss the real ones so much.”
Your eyes light up as you reach for the stuffed animals. “We have cats? I love cats!”
Max chuckles, a warmth spreading through his chest at your enthusiasm. “Yeah, two Bengal cats. They’re like little troublemakers, always getting into mischief. You adore them.”
You hug the stuffed cats close, a small smile playing on your lips. “Tell me about them?”
Max sits in the chair beside your bed, grateful for the opening. “Well, Jimmy is the older one. He’s very dignified, or at least he tries to be. But he has a weakness for cardboard boxes. No matter how expensive a cat bed we buy him, he always prefers a random Amazon box.”
You giggle at that, and the sound is like music to Max’s ears. He continues, “Sassy is younger and true to her name. She’s always chattering away, meowing at us like she’s telling us about her day. And she has this thing for water —she’ll sit by the sink for hours, just watching the faucet drip.”
“They sound wonderful,” you say softly, stroking the stuffed cats’ fur. “I wish I could remember them.”
Max reaches into the bag again. “Maybe this will help,” he says, pulling out the hoodie. “This is your favorite thing to wear around the house. Well, my hoodie that you’ve completely taken over.”
You take the hoodie, running your hands over the soft fabric. You bring it to your face, inhaling deeply, and for a moment, Max’s heart soars with hope. But then you shake your head.
“It smells ... familiar,” you say slowly. “But I can’t place it. I’m sorry.”
Max tries to hide his disappointment. “It’s okay. Don’t push yourself. The doctors said it might take time.”
You nod, but he can see the frustration in your eyes. “It’s just so strange,” you murmur. “I know things, like I know I love cats, but I can’t remember our cats. I know this hoodie is important, but I can’t remember why.”
Max leans forward, his voice gentle. “Hey, it’s okay. You’ve been through a lot. Give yourself time to heal.”
You look at him, really look at him, for the first time since he entered the room. “You’re being so patient with me. It must be hard for you, seeing me like this.”
Max swallows hard, fighting back tears. “It’s not easy,” he admits. “But you’re worth it. We’re worth it.”
A comfortable silence falls between you. You pull on the hoodie, snuggling into its warmth. “So,” you say after a while, “tell me more about us. How did we meet?”
Max’s face lights up at the question. “It was at a charity gala in Monaco,” he begins. “I was there representing the team and you were there with some friends. I saw you across the room and ... I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”
You raise an eyebrow, a hint of a smile on your lips. “Oh really? Was it love at first sight?”
Max chuckles. “More like anxiety at first sight for me. I was so nervous to talk to you. I must have circled the room three times before I worked up the courage to approach you.”
“You? Nervous?” You say, sounding surprised. “But you’re a famous racing driver. Surely you’re used to talking to people.”
Max shrugs. “On the track, sure. But off it? Especially with beautiful women? I’m a disaster. But something about you ... I knew I’d regret it if I didn’t at least try to talk to you.”
You lean back against your pillows, looking intrigued. “So what happened? Did you sweep me off my feet with your charm?”
Max bursts out laughing. “God, no. I was a complete mess. I walked up to you, tried to say something smooth, and ended up knocking over a tray of champagne glasses. Drenched myself and nearly you too.”
Your eyes widen. “Oh no! That sounds mortifying.”
“It was,” Max agrees. “I was ready to run away and hide forever. But then you did something amazing. Instead of being upset or embarrassed, you started laughing. Not at me, but with me. You helped me clean up, made a joke about how I was smoother on the track than off it, and then ... you asked me to dance.”
You smile at that. “I did? That was brave of me.”
Max nods, his eyes soft with the memory. “It was. You later told me you thought I was cute when I was flustered. We danced for hours that night, talking about everything and nothing. By the end of the evening, I knew I wanted to see you again.”
“And the rest is history?” You ask.
“Not quite,” Max says with a grin. “I still had to convince you to go on a proper date with me. And let me tell you, dating a Formula 1 driver isn’t always easy. But we made it work. We’ve been together for two years now, living in Monaco.”
You absorb this information, your brow furrowed in concentration. “It sounds like a fairytale,” you say softly. “I wish I could remember it.”
Max reaches out, hesitating for a moment before gently taking your hand. To his relief, you don’t pull away. “You will,” he says firmly. “And if you don’t, we’ll make new memories. Even better ones.”
You squeeze his hand, offering a small smile. “You really believe that, don’t you?”
“I do,” Max says without hesitation. “Because I know you, Y/N. Even if you can’t remember right now, I know the person you are. Your kindness, your strength, your incredible spirit. That hasn’t changed. It’s still there, inside you.”
Tears well up in your eyes. “I want to believe you,” you whisper. “But it’s so hard. Everything feels so ... disconnected. Like I’m living someone else’s life.”
Max moves to sit on the edge of the bed, still holding your hand. “I know it’s scary,” he says softly. “But you’re not alone in this. I’m here, your family’s here. We’ll help you through it, step by step.”
You nod, wiping away a stray tear. “Thank you. For being here, for bringing these things. It means a lot.”
Max smiles, his heart swelling with love for you. “Always. I’ll always be here for you, Y/N. No matter what.”
Just then, a nurse enters the room. “Good morning,” she says cheerfully. “How are we feeling today?”
You turn to her, still clutching the stuffed cats. “A bit better, I think. Max brought me some things from home.”
The nurse smiles approvingly. “That’s wonderful. Familiar objects can often help in recovery. Now, I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to step out for a bit,” she says to Max. “We need to run some tests and change some dressings.”
Max nods, standing up reluctantly. “Of course. I’ll be back later, if that’s okay?” he asks, looking at you.
You nod, offering a small smile. “I’d like that. Maybe ... maybe you could bring some more things next time? Anything that might help jog my memory?”
Max’s heart leaps at the request. “Absolutely. I’ll bring whatever I can think of.”
As he turns to leave, you call out softly. “Max?”
He turns back, his breath catching in his throat. “Yeah?”
“Thank you,” you say simply. “For not giving up on me.”
Max feels tears pricking at his eyes. “Never,” he says firmly. “I’ll never give up on you, Y/N. On us.”
As he walks out of the hospital into the bright morning sunshine, Max feels a renewed sense of hope. It won’t be easy, and the road ahead is still long and uncertain. But you’re still you, still the woman he fell in love with. And he’ll do whatever it takes to help you find your way back to him.
He pulls out his phone, sending a quick message to his team. He won’t be racing this weekend, or perhaps for a while. Some things are more important than Formula 1. Right now, his place is here, by your side, helping you piece together the memories of your life together.
***
The press room is buzzing with anticipation as Max takes his seat at the table. Cameras flash incessantly and the murmur of journalists speculating grows louder. Max’s face is a mask of calm, but inside, he’s a storm of emotions.
His manager, Raymond, leans in close before stepping away. “Remember, keep it brief. No details about Y/N unless absolutely necessary.”
Max nods curtly, his jaw clenched. The past few days have been a whirlwind of hospital visits, tense conversations with the team, and now this — facing the media to explain his decision to step away from racing.
The room falls silent as the press conference begins. A Red Bull spokesperson steps up to the microphone.
“Good afternoon, everyone. As you know, Max Verstappen has announced his decision to take a leave of absence from Formula 1 for an undetermined period. Max will now take your questions.”
The room erupts with raised hands and shouted questions. Max points to a familiar face in the front row.
“Max, can you explain the reasoning behind this sudden decision? You’re in the midst of a tight championship battle. Why step away now?”
Max takes a deep breath. “I understand this comes as a surprise to many. There are personal matters that require my full attention right now. I can’t go into details, but I assure you, this decision wasn’t made lightly.”
Another journalist jumps in before he can choose the next question. “But surely these personal matters could be handled while continuing to race? Many drivers balance personal issues with their careers.”
Max feels a flicker of irritation. “Every situation is unique. In this case, I need to step away completely. My focus can’t be divided right now.”
The questions keep coming, each one chipping away at Max’s patience.
“Is this related to your recent performance dip?”
“Are there issues within the team we don’t know about?”
“Some fans are accusing you of abandoning the sport. What do you say to them?”
Max answers each as calmly as he can, but he can feel his control slipping. Then, a question from the back of the room ignites the powder keg.
“Max, there are rumors that this is about a woman. Have you let a relationship interfere with your career?”
The room falls silent, all eyes on Max. He grips the edge of the table, knuckles white. For a moment, he considers sticking to the script, giving another vague non-answer. But something inside him snaps.
“You want to know the truth?” He says, his voice low and intense. “Fine. I’ll tell you.”
Raymond steps forward, a warning in his eyes, but Max waves him off.
“My girlfriend was in a serious car accident,” Max continues, his voice growing louder. “She’s in the hospital with severe injuries and memory loss. She doesn’t even remember who I am.”
The room erupts in gasps and furious scribbling. Max stands, leaning forward on the table.
“So yes, I’m stepping away from racing. Because the woman I love needs me. Because some things are more important than trophies or championship points.”
He’s shouting now, years of pent-up frustration with the media pouring out.
“You all sit here and judge me, speculate about my personal life, accuse me of abandoning the sport. But where were you when I was a kid, pushed to the limit by a demanding father? Where were you when I was struggling with the pressure of being the youngest driver in F1 history?”
The room is dead silent now, every journalist hanging on his words.
“I’ve given everything to this sport. I’ve sacrificed friendships, relationships, a normal life. And now, the one time I need to put something else first, you question my commitment?”
Max’s voice breaks slightly, but he pushes on.
“Y/N is fighting for her life, fighting to remember who she is. Who we are together. And you want me to, what? Leave her alone in a hospital room while I zip around a track?”
He looks around the room, meeting the shocked gazes of the journalists.
“So go ahead. Write your stories. Question my decisions. But know this — I don’t regret my choice. Not for a second. Because at the end of the day, the chequered flag won’t keep me warm at night. It won’t laugh at my jokes or hold my hand when I’m stressed.”
Max takes a deep breath, his anger giving way to a deep sadness.
“I love racing. It’s been my whole life. But I love Y/N more. And right now, she needs me. So I’m going to be there for her, every step of the way, until she’s better. Until she remembers us.”
He sits back down, suddenly drained. The room is still silent, the journalists too stunned to even raise their hands for questions.
Finally, a older journalist in the front row clears his throat. “Max, I ... we had no idea. I’m so sorry about Y/N. Can you tell us more about her condition?”
Max shakes his head, his voice softer now. “I’ve already said more than I planned to. Y/N’s privacy is important to me. All I’ll say is that she’s fighting hard, and I’m going to be right there with her.”
Another journalist speaks up. “You mentioned Y/N doesn’t remember you. How are you coping with that?”
Max runs a hand through his hair, considering his words carefully. “It’s ... it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever faced. Harder than any race, any championship battle. To look into the eyes of the person you love most in the world and see no recognition ... it’s gut-wrenching.”
He pauses, swallowing hard. “But I’m not giving up. I’m fighting for us, for our memories, for our future. Even if I have to make her fall in love with me all over again.”
The mood in the room has shifted completely. Gone is the adversarial tension, replaced by a somber understanding.
“What can fans do to support you during this time?” Another journalist asks.
Max manages a small smile. “Just ... be patient. Understand that there are things more important than racing. And maybe, if you’re the praying type, keep Y/N in your thoughts.”
The Red Bull spokesperson steps forward, signaling the end of the conference. But Max holds up a hand, not quite finished.
“I want to say one more thing,” he says, his voice steady. “To any of you out there who might be going through something similar — don’t be afraid to step back. Don’t let anyone make you feel guilty for putting your loved ones first. At the end of the day, that’s what really matters.”
With that, Max stands and walks out of the room, leaving a stunned silence in his wake. As soon as he’s out of sight of the cameras, he leans against a wall, emotions overwhelming him.
Raymond approaches cautiously. “That ... didn’t go quite as planned.”
Max lets out a humorless laugh. “No, I suppose it didn’t.”
“You okay?” Raymond asks, genuine concern in his voice.
Max nods slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I am. It feels ... good to have it out there. No more hiding, no more vague excuses.”
Raymond squeezes his shoulder. “You did good, kid. It won’t be easy, but people will understand now.”
Max’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He pulls it out to see a flood of messages — from his team, his family, even other drivers. But one catches his eye — a text from your mom.
“Just saw the press conference. Y/N would be so proud of you. We all are. Come by the hospital when you can. She’s asking for you.”
Despite everything, Max feels a smile tugging at his lips. He turns to Raymond. “I’ve got to go. Y/N’s waiting.”
Raymond nods understandingly. “Go. We’ll handle things here. Give her our best.”
As Max walks out of the building, he’s greeted by a small crowd of fans. But instead of the anger or disappointment he expected, he sees understanding and support in their faces. Many are holding haphazardly thrown together signs with messages of encouragement for both him and you.
One young girl breaks away from her parents, running up to Max with a hand-drawn card. “This is for Y/N,” she says shyly. “I hope she gets better soon.”
Max kneels down, taking the card with a genuine smile. “Thank you. I’ll make sure she gets it.”
As he stands, the crowd starts to applaud. It’s not the roar of a race victory, but a softer, more meaningful sound. The sound of people recognizing a different kind of strength, a different kind of victory.
Max raises a hand in acknowledgment before getting into his waiting car. As the driver pulls away, he looks at the card in his hands. It’s a simple drawing of two stick figures holding hands, with the words “Get well soon Y/N! Max loves you ❤️” written in childish scrawl.
For the first time in days, Max feels a weight lift from his shoulders. The road ahead is still long and uncertain, but he’s not alone. He has the support of his team, his fans, and most importantly, he has you — even if you can’t remember him yet.
As the car speeds towards the hospital, Max makes a silent promise. To you, to himself, to everyone who’s supporting them. He’ll face this challenge with the same determination and focus he brings to the track. Because this is the most important race of his life — the race to help you remember, to rebuild your life together.
And Max Verstappen doesn’t lose races that matter.
***
Max stands outside your hospital room, the handmade card clutched in his hand. He takes a deep breath, steeling himself before knocking softly and entering.
You’re sitting up in bed, looking more alert than he’s seen you since the accident. Your parents are there too, gathering your things in preparation for your discharge tomorrow.
“Max,” you say, a small smile gracing your lips. It’s not the warm, loving smile he’s used to, but it’s a start. “We saw your press conference.”
Max feels a flush creep up his neck. “Ah, yeah. I, uh, might have gotten a bit carried away.”
Your mother steps forward, enveloping him in a hug. “You were wonderful, dear. So brave and honest.”
“Thanks,” Max mumbles, still not entirely comfortable with praise outside of racing. He turns his attention back to you. “How are you feeling today?”
You shrug slightly. “Better, I think. Still ... confused about a lot of things. But the pain is less.”
Max nods, moving closer to your bed. “That’s good. I, uh, I have something for you.” He holds out the card. “A young fan made this for you after the press conference.”
You take the card, examining the childish drawing with a soft expression. “Get well soon Y/N! Max loves you!” You read aloud. Your eyes flick up to meet his. “That’s ... very sweet.”
Max shifts uncomfortably, unsure how to respond. Your father, sensing the tension, clears his throat. “We’re going to go get some coffee. Give you two some time to talk.”
As your parents leave the room, an awkward silence falls. Max takes a seat in the chair beside your bed, fidgeting with his hands.
“So,” you say finally, “you’re taking time off from racing. For me.”
Max nods. “Yeah. I hope that’s okay. I know you don’t ... remember us. But I want to be here for you, however you need me to be.”
You’re quiet for a moment, considering his words. “It’s a lot of pressure,” you admit softly. “Knowing someone’s put their whole life on hold for me.”
Max leans forward, his eyes intense. “Hey, no. Don’t think of it like that. This isn’t a sacrifice or an obligation. It’s a choice. My choice.”
You nod slowly, but he can see the doubt in your eyes. “Tell me something,” you say suddenly. “Something about us. Something ... happy.”
Max feels a smile tugging at his lips as he casts his mind back. “Okay, how about this? Last year, after I won the championship, we took a vacation. Just the two of us, no teams, no press, no obligations.”
“Where did we go?” You ask, curiosity piqued.
“Bali,” Max says, his eyes lighting up with the memory. “We rented this amazing villa right on the beach. You were determined to teach me how to surf.”
A small giggle escapes you. “Did I succeed?”
Max chuckles. “Not even close. I spent more time eating sand than standing on the board. But you were so patient, so encouraging. Even when I was frustrated and ready to give up, you just ... you made it fun.”
“Sounds nice,” you say softly.
“It was more than nice,” Max continues, warming to the subject. “One evening, we were sitting on the beach watching the sunset.” He pauses, swallowing hard. “I realized all the trophies, all the victories ... they didn’t compare to just being there with you, watching the sun sink into the ocean.”
You’re quiet for a long moment, absorbing his words. “We sound ... very happy together,” you say finally.
Max nods, blinking back tears. “We are. We were. We will be again.”
You reach out hesitantly, taking his hand. It’s the first time you’ve initiated contact since the accident, and Max feels his heart soar.
“I’m scared,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m being discharged tomorrow, and I don’t ... I don’t know where I belong anymore.”
Max squeezes your hand gently. “You belong wherever you feel comfortable. If that’s with your parents for now, that’s okay. If you want to try coming home with me, that’s okay too. There’s no pressure, no expectations. We’ll figure this out together, at your pace.”
You nod, looking grateful. “Thank you. For being so understanding. I know this can’t be easy for you either.”
Max shrugs. “It’s not. But you’re worth it. We’re worth it.”
A comfortable silence falls between you. Max is content to just sit there, holding your hand, savoring this small connection.
After a while, you speak again. “Can you tell me more? About our life together?”
Max’s face lights up. “Of course. What do you want to know?”
You consider for a moment. “What’s a typical day like for us? When you’re not racing, I mean.”
Max leans back in his chair, a fond smile on his face. “Well, you’re definitely the early riser between us. You usually get up first, make coffee. Sometimes you go for a run or do yoga on the balcony.”
“I do yoga?” You ask, sounding surprised.
Max chuckles. “Yeah, you got into it as a way to help me relax between races. Said if it could calm me down, it could work miracles for anyone.”
You laugh at that, a genuine, full laugh that makes Max’s heart skip a beat. It’s the first time he’s heard that sound since the accident.
“Anyway,” he continues, “I usually drag myself out of bed when I smell the coffee. We have breakfast together, usually something healthy that you insist I need.”
“Sounds like I take good care of you,” you observe.
Max nods, his expression softening. “You do. Better than anyone ever has.”
“What else?” You prompt, clearly engrossed in the story of your shared life.
“Well, if I’m training, you often come to the gym with me. You say it’s to support me, but I think you just like ogling me when I lift weights.”
You swat his arm playfully, a faint blush coloring your cheeks. “I do not!”
Max grins, delighted by this glimpse of your old dynamic. “Oh, you absolutely do. Not that I mind. I return the favor when you’re doing your yoga.”
You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. “What else do we do?”
“We cook together a lot,” Max says. “Or rather, you cook and I try not to burn the kitchen down. You’re teaching me, slowly but surely. We have this tradition of trying to recreate dishes from all the countries I race in.”
“That sounds fun,” you say, a wistful note in your voice. “Do we have a favorite?”
Max thinks for a moment. “There’s this amazing pasta dish we perfected after the Italian Grand Prix. You said it was better than sex.”
Your eyes widen. “I did not!”
Max laughs. “You absolutely did. Then you made me prove you wrong.”
You blush furiously, but you’re laughing too. “I can’t believe I said that!”
“Believe it,” Max says, grinning. “You’re full of surprises, schatje. It’s one of the things I love most about you.”
The word ’love’ hangs in the air between you. You grow quiet, your expression thoughtful.
“Max,” you say finally, “I want you to know ... I’m trying. To remember. To ... to feel what you feel.”
Max squeezes your hand. “I know you are. And it’s okay if it takes time. Or if ... if you never feel exactly the same way. We can build something new, if we need to.”
You nod, looking relieved. “Thank you. For understanding. For being patient.”
“Always,” Max says softly.
Just then, your parents return, breaking the intimate moment. Your mother smiles warmly at the sight of your joined hands.
“Everything okay in here?” She asks.
You nod, offering a small smile. “Yeah. Max was just telling me about our life together.”
Your father clears his throat. “Speaking of which, we should probably discuss arrangements for after your discharge tomorrow.”
You tense slightly, and Max can feel your grip on his hand tighten. “Right,” you say, your voice uncertain.
Max jumps in. “Y/N, remember what I said. Whatever you’re comfortable with. There’s no pressure.”
You nod gratefully. “I think ... I think I’d like to stay with my parents for a bit. If that’s okay?” You look at Max, worry in your eyes.
Max forces a smile, ignoring the pang in his heart. “Of course it’s okay. Whatever you need.”
Your mother steps forward. “Max, you’re welcome to visit anytime. We know how important you are to Y/N, even if she can’t remember everything right now.”
Max nods, grateful for their understanding. “Thank you. I’d like that.”
As the conversation turns to logistics of your discharge, Max finds his mind wandering. It’s not the outcome he’d hoped for, but he understands. You need time, space to heal and rediscover yourself. And he’ll be there, every step of the way, however you need him.
As visiting hours come to an end and Max prepares to leave, you call out to him.
“Max?”
He turns back. “Yeah?”
You hesitate for a moment, then say, “Thank you. For everything. And ... I’d like to hear more stories. About us. If that’s okay.”
Max feels a warmth spread through his chest. It’s not a declaration of love, not a magical recovery of memories. But it’s a start. A willingness to explore, to learn, to possibly fall in love all over again.
“Anytime,” he says softly. “I’ve got plenty of stories to tell.”
***
The Monaco apartment feels cavernous and empty as Max pushes open the door. The silence is oppressive, broken only by the soft padding of paws as Jimmy and Sassy come to greet him. They meow insistently, weaving between his legs, clearly searching for someone who isn’t there.
“I know,” Max murmurs, kneeling to scratch behind their ears. “I miss her too.”
He moves through the space, every corner filled with memories. Your favorite mug sits on the kitchen counter, lipstick stain still visible on the rim. A half-read book lies on the coffee table, your bookmark peeking out from the pages. Your scent lingers on the throw pillows on the couch.
Max sinks onto the sofa, and immediately, Jimmy jumps up beside him, headbutting his hand for attention. Sassy follows suit, curling up in his lap.
“At least I’ve got you two,” Max says softly, stroking their fur. “But it’s not the same, is it?”
He pulls out his phone, scrolling through photos of happier times. You and him on vacation, at race weekends, lazy Sundays at home. Your smile, so bright and full of love, now feels like a distant memory.
“Come on, Max,” he mutters to himself. “You can’t fall apart now. Y/N needs you to be strong.”
But in the quiet of the apartment, with only the cats for company, it’s hard to maintain that strength. For the first time since the accident, since the press conference, since leaving you at your parents’ house, Max allows himself to truly feel the weight of everything that’s happened.
A sob escapes him, then another. Soon, he’s crying in earnest, all the pent-up fear and frustration and loneliness pouring out. Jimmy and Sassy press closer, as if trying to comfort him.
“I don’t know what to do,” Max confesses to the empty room. “How do I help her remember? How do I make her fall in love with me again? What if ... what if she never does?”
The cats, of course, don’t answer. But their presence is comforting, a reminder that he’s not entirely alone.
As his tears subside, Max takes a deep breath, trying to center himself. He needs to focus, to come up with a plan. You might not remember your life together, but he does. And he’s determined to help you rediscover it, piece by piece if necessary.
He stands, moving to the bookshelf where you keep photo albums. Maybe he could put together a scrapbook of your relationship, something tangible for you to look through. As he reaches for an album, his phone buzzes in his pocket.
His heart leaps when he sees your name on the screen. He answers immediately, trying to keep the eagerness out of his voice. “Y/N? Is everything okay?”
“Hi,” you say, and he can hear a note of confusion in your voice. “Everything’s fine, I just ... this is going to sound weird, but I needed to ask you something.”
Max sits back down on the couch, curious. “Of course. What is it?”
You hesitate for a moment before speaking. “I’ve been having these ... cravings. For food I don’t remember ever eating before, much less liking. And I thought maybe ... maybe they mean something?”
Max’s pulse quickens. Could this be a sign of your memories returning? “What kind of food?” He asks, trying to keep his voice neutral.
“Tomato soup,” you say. “And beef carpaccio. I know it sounds strange, but I can’t stop thinking about them. Do they ... do they mean anything to you?”
Max feels like his heart might burst out of his chest. “Y/N,” he says softly, “those are my favorite foods.”
“Oh,” you breathe, and he can hear the surprise in your voice. “I ... I didn’t know that.”
“The tomato soup is something my mom used to make for me when I was a kid,” Max explains, his voice thick with emotion. “And the carpaccio ... that was what we had on our first real date in Monaco.”
There’s a long pause on the other end of the line. “I don’t remember that,” you say finally, a note of frustration in your voice. “But I can almost ... almost taste it, you know? Like my body remembers even if my mind doesn’t.”
Max nods, even though you can’t see him. “That’s good, Y/N. That’s really good. It means the memories are still in there somewhere.”
“Maybe,” you say, sounding uncertain. “I just wish I could remember more. It’s so frustrating, having all these ... these echoes of a life I can’t quite grasp.”
“I know,” Max says soothingly. “But this is progress. We just have to be patient.”
You sigh. “You’re right. I just ... I feel bad, you know? You’re being so patient and understanding, and I can’t even remember our first date.”
Max’s heart aches at the sadness in your voice. “Hey, no. Don’t feel bad. This isn’t your fault. We’re in this together, remember?”
“Yeah,” you say softly. “Together.”
There’s another pause, and Max can almost picture you biting your lip, the way you do when you’re thinking hard about something.
“Max?” You say finally. “Can you ... can you tell me about our first date? The one with the carpaccio?”
A smile spreads across Max’s face. “Of course. It was about a week after we met at that charity gala. I was so nervous, I must have changed my shirt five times before picking you up.”
You laugh softly. “You, nervous? I find that hard to believe.”
“Believe it,” Max chuckles. “You had me completely flustered. Still do, if I’m honest.”
He launches into the story, describing how he’d taken you to a small, intimate restaurant overlooking the harbor. How you’d laughed at his attempts to pronounce the French dishes, how your eyes had lit up when you tasted the carpaccio.
“You said it was the best thing you’d ever eaten,” Max recalls. “But I barely tasted the food. I just couldn’t believe someone as amazing as you was interested in me.”
“Max ...” you start, your voice soft and a bit uncertain.
“Sorry,” he says quickly. “I don’t mean to push. I know this is all still ... complicated.”
“No, it’s okay,” you assure him. “I like hearing these stories. They help, even if I can’t remember them myself yet.”
Max feels a warmth spread through his chest. “I’m glad. I’ve got plenty more where that came from, whenever you want to hear them.”
“I’d like that,” you say. “Maybe ... maybe next time we could do it in person? If you’re not too busy, I mean.”
“Y/N,” Max says seriously, “I’m never too busy for you. Just name the time and place, and I’ll be there.”
You laugh softly. “Careful, I might hold you to that.”
“Please do,” Max says, meaning every word.
As you say your goodbyes, Max feels lighter than he has in days. It’s not a magical fix, not a sudden return of all your memories. But it’s progress. A willingness to explore, to learn, to possibly fall in love all over again.
An idea strikes him as he ends the call. He quickly pulls up a food delivery app on his phone, searching for restaurants near your parents’ house. Finding one that offers both tomato soup and beef carpaccio, he places an order, adding a note.
A taste of our memories. Hope this helps satisfy those cravings - Max
As he completes the order, Max feels a surge of hope. It’s a small gesture, but maybe it will help trigger more memories. Or at the very least, it will show you that he’s thinking of you, that he’s here for you in whatever way you need.
He looks around the apartment, seeing it with new eyes. Yes, it’s empty without you here. But it’s not a sad emptiness anymore. It’s a space waiting to be filled again, with new memories alongside the old.
Max scratches Jimmy and Sassy behind the ears. “What do you think, guys? Should we start planning how to win your mom’s heart all over again?”
The cats purr in response, and Max chuckles. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Even if you can’t remember everything yet, your body remembers. Your heart remembers.
And Max is determined to help you rediscover every beautiful moment of your life together, one memory at a time. Starting with a bowl of tomato soup and a plate of beef carpaccio.
***
The shrill ring of his phone jolts Max awake. He fumbles for it in the darkness, heart racing as he sees the caller ID: your mother.
“Hello?” He answers, voice thick with sleep but mind rapidly clearing.
“Max, I’m so sorry to wake you,” your mother’s voice comes through, tense and worried. “It’s Y/N. She woke up about an hour ago and she’s ... she’s not okay.”
Max is already out of bed, fumbling for clothes. “What’s wrong? Is she hurt?”
“No, no, nothing like that,” your mother assures him quickly. “She’s just ... she’s crying and she keeps saying she needs you. We can’t calm her down. I know it’s the middle of the night, but I didn’t know what else to do.”
“You did the right thing,” Max says, pulling on a shirt haphazardly. “I’m on my way. Can you put her on the phone?”
There’s a rustling sound, then your voice comes through, small and broken. “Max?”
His heart clenches at the pain in your voice. “Y/N, I’m here. What’s wrong, liefje?”
“I don’t know,” you sob. “I had this dream and now everything hurts and I can’t ... I can’t remember but I know I need you. Please, Max. I need you here.”
“I’m coming,” Max promises, already dialing his pilot with his other phone. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Just hold on, okay?”
“Okay,” you whisper. “Please hurry.”
As the call ends, Max is already rushing out the door, barely remembering to grab his wallet and keys. He calls his pilot as he takes the stairs two at a time, not willing to wait for the elevator.
“Frank, I need the jet ready as soon as possible. We’re flying to-” he rattles off the name of your parents’ hometown. “How fast can we be in the air?”
“Mr. Verstappen, it’s the middle of the night,” Frank starts, but Max cuts him off.
“I know what time it is. This is an emergency. How soon?”
There’s a pause, then Frank sighs. “Give me 30 minutes. I’ll call the crew.”
“Make it 20,” Max insists. “I’ll double your rate.”
“We’ll be ready,” Frank assures him.
Max ends the call as he reaches his car, peeling out of the parking garage with a screech of tires. His mind races as fast as the car, worry for you overwhelming everything else.
What could have triggered this? You’d been doing better, or so he thought. The memory of food had seemed like progress. But now ...
He shakes his head, forcing himself to focus on the road. Getting to you safely is what matters now. Everything else can wait.
Max makes it to the airport in record time, barely bothering to park properly before he’s sprinting towards his private jet. Frank meets him at the stairs.
“We’re fueled and ready,” he says. “Weather looks clear, we should have a smooth flight.”
“Good,” Max nods, already climbing the stairs. “Let’s go.”
As the jet takes off, Max finds himself unable to sit still. He paces the cabin, checking his phone every few seconds even though he knows there’s no signal at this altitude.
The flight attendant approaches cautiously. “Mr. Verstappen? Can I get you anything?”
Max shakes his head, then reconsiders. “Actually, yes. Coffee. Strongest you’ve got.”
She nods, retreating to the galley. Max resumes his pacing, his mind a whirlwind of worry and speculation.
What if you’d remembered something traumatic? What if this setback undid all the progress you’d made? What if ...
He forces himself to stop that line of thinking. Catastrophizing won’t help anyone, least of all you.
The flight seems to take an eternity. As soon as they land, he’s out of his seat, barely waiting for the stairs to fully deploy before he’s racing down them.
A car is waiting, arranged by his ever-efficient team. Max barely registers the driver’s greeting as he slides into the backseat.
He recites the address tersely. “As fast as you can.”
The drive is a blur of streetlights and quiet suburban roads. Max’s leg bounces nervously, his hands clenched into fists.
Finally, mercifully, they pull up to the familiar house. Max is out of the car before it fully stops, racing up the front steps.
Your father opens the door before he can knock. “Thank God you’re here,” he says, ushering Max inside. “She’s upstairs.”
Max takes the stairs two at a time, his heart pounding. He can hear muffled sobs coming from your old bedroom.
He pauses at the door, taking a deep breath to steady himself. Then he knocks softly. “Y/N? It’s me. It’s Max.”
The sobs quieten slightly. “Max?” Your voice comes through, small and uncertain.
“Can I come in?”
There’s a pause, then: “Please.”
Max opens the door slowly. The room is dimly lit by a bedside lamp, casting long shadows. You’re huddled on the bed, knees drawn up to your chest, eyes red and puffy from crying.
The sight of you so distressed nearly breaks him. In two long strides, he’s at your side.
“I’m here,” he says softly. “I’m right here.”
You look up at him, fresh tears spilling down your cheeks. “Max,” you whisper, and then you’re launching yourself into his arms.
Max catches you, holding you close as you sob into his chest. He strokes your hair, murmuring soothing words.
“It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”
Gradually, your sobs subside, replaced by hiccuping breaths. Max continues to hold you, rocking slightly.
“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks gently.
You pull back slightly, wiping your eyes. “I had this dream,” you start, your voice hoarse. “It was so vivid. We were ... we were in a car, I think. And there was a crash and I couldn’t ... I couldn’t reach you.”
Max’s heart clenches. Is this a memory of your accident trying to surface?
“It felt so real,” you continue. “And when I woke up, I was so scared and confused. I couldn’t remember where I was or why you weren’t there. I just knew I needed you.”
“I’m here now,” Max says, cupping your face gently. “I’ll always come when you need me.”
You lean into his touch, closing your eyes. “I’m sorry for making you fly out in the middle of the night.”
Max shakes his head. “Don’t apologize. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
You open your eyes, meeting his gaze. There’s something different there, something Max can’t quite identify.
“Max,” you say slowly, “I think ... I think I remembered something.”
His breath catches. “What did you remember?”
You furrow your brow, concentrating. “It’s not clear. Just ... feelings, mostly. But when you walked in, when you held me ... it felt familiar. Safe. Like ... like coming home.”
Max feels hope bloom in his chest. “That’s good, schatje. That’s really good. It means the memories are still there, even if they’re hard to reach right now.”
You nod, then yawn widely. The emotional toll of the night is clearly catching up with you.
“You should try to get some sleep,” Max says, moving to stand up.
But you grab his hand, holding him in place. “Will you ... will you stay? Just until I fall asleep?”
Max’s heart swells. “Of course. As long as you need.”
You scoot over, making room for him on the bed. Max kicks off his shoes and lies down next to you, careful to maintain a respectful distance.
But you close that distance, curling into his side like it’s the most natural thing in the world. And for a moment, it feels like nothing has changed. Like the accident never happened.
“Tell me a story,” you mumble, already half-asleep. “About us.”
Max smiles, wrapping an arm around you. “Okay. How about the time we tried to teach Jimmy and Sassy to swim?”
You make a soft sound of agreement, nuzzling closer.
As Max recounts the tale of your misadventures with the cats and a kiddie pool, he feels you relax against him, your breathing evening out.
He continues the story even after he’s sure you’re asleep, partly out of habit, partly because he’s not ready for this moment to end.
Eventually, he falls silent, just listening to your steady breathing. He knows he should leave, go sleep in the guest room or on the couch. But he can’t bring himself to move, to break this fragile peace.
Just a few more minutes, he tells himself. Just a little longer.
Before he knows it, sunlight is streaming through the windows. Max blinks awake, momentarily disoriented. Then he feels you stir against him, and everything comes rushing back.
You lift your head, looking up at him with sleep-clouded eyes. For a moment, just a moment, Max sees recognition there. The look you used to give him every morning.
But then you blink, and it’s gone, replaced by confusion, then embarrassment.
“Oh God,” you mutter, sitting up quickly. “Max, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you here all night.”
Max sits up too, trying to ignore the ache in his heart at the loss of contact. “It’s okay. I wanted to be here.”
You run a hand through your hair, not meeting his eyes. “Last night ... it’s all a bit fuzzy. Did I ... did I say anything? About remembering?”
Max nods slowly. “You said being with me felt familiar. Like coming home.”
You’re quiet for a long moment, staring at your hands. “I wish I could remember more,” you say finally, your voice small. “It’s all still so ... jumbled.”
Max reaches out, then stops himself, unsure if the touch would be welcome. “It’s okay. We’ll figure this out together.”
You look up at him then, a small smile on your face. “Together,” you repeat. “I like the sound of that.”
There’s a soft knock at the door, and your mother pokes her head in. “Oh good, you’re both awake. Breakfast is ready if you’re hungry.”
As you both stand to head downstairs, Max feels a mix of emotions. Disappointment that the night didn’t lead to a magical recovery of your memories. Hope at the small signs of progress. And an overwhelming sense of love for you, memory or no memory.
He knows the road ahead is still long and uncertain. But as he watches you smile at something your mother says, he feels more certain than ever that it’s a road worth traveling.
Because even if you can’t remember all of your history together, you’re still you. Still the woman he fell in love with. And he’ll spend every day helping you rediscover that love, one memory at a time.
***
The rhythmic clanging of weights fills the air as Max pushes through another set of bench presses. Sweat beads on his forehead, his muscles straining with each repetition. Rupert stands nearby, counting softly and offering encouragement.
“Nine ... ten ... good, Max. One more set and we’ll move on.”
The sharp ring of Max’s phone cuts through the gym’s atmosphere. Max grunts, arms shaking as he finishes his reps.
“Can you grab that, Rupert? Might be important.”
Rupert nods, retrieving the phone from Max’s gym bag. “It’s Y/N’s parents,” he says, eyebrows raised.
Max’s heart skips a beat. “Put it on speaker,” he says quickly, sitting up on the bench.
Rupert answers the call, holding the phone out between them. “Hello? This is Rupert, Max’s trainer. You’re on speaker.”
“Oh, hello Rupert,” comes the familiar voice of your mother. “Is Max there? We have some news.”
“I’m here,” Max says, leaning closer to the phone. “What’s going on? Is Y/N okay?”
There’s a pause, and Max feels his anxiety spike. Then, your father’s voice comes through, barely containing his excitement.
“Max, it’s ... it’s incredible. Y/N says she can remember. Not everything, but ... a lot. She woke up this morning and it was like a flood of memories just came back to her.”
The words hit Max like a physical force. He stands abruptly, forgetting the weight still balanced precariously on his legs. It crashes to the floor with a deafening clang, missing Rupert’s foot by mere inches.
“Whoa!” Rupert yelps, jumping back. “Easy there, Max!”
But Max barely notices. His entire world has narrowed to the voice coming from the phone. “She ... she remembers? Are you sure? How much does she remember?”
Your mother’s voice comes back on. “It’s still patchy, but she remembers you, Max. She remembers your life together, your home in Monaco. She’s been talking about the cats all morning.”
Max feels his knees go weak. He sits back down heavily on the bench, his head spinning. “Can I ... can I talk to her?”
“I’m afraid she’s with the doctors right now,” your father explains. “They want to run some tests, make sure everything’s okay. But she’s been asking for you. We thought you’d want to know right away.”
Max nods, then remembers they can’t see him. “Yes, of course. Thank you. I’ll be there as soon as I can. I’ll take the jet, I can be there in”
“Actually,” your mother interrupts, “Y/N has been asking to come home. To Monaco. She says she misses you, and the cats, and ... well, her life with you.”
Max feels a lump form in his throat. “She wants to come home?” He repeats, his voice barely above a whisper.
“If that’s alright with you,” your father adds quickly. “We understand if you need time to prepare, or if you think it’s too soon”
“No!” Max exclaims, perhaps a bit too loudly. He clears his throat. “I mean, no, it’s not too soon. It’s perfect. I can send the jet for her right away. If ... if that’s what she wants.”
He can hear the smile in your mother’s voice as she responds. “It is. She’s quite insistent, actually. Says she wants to sleep in her own bed.”
Max feels a grin spreading across his face. “I’ll make the arrangements right away. Can you have her ready to go in ... let’s say five hours?”
“We can do that,” your father confirms. “And Max? She’s ... she’s really excited to see you.”
Max swallows hard, emotion threatening to overwhelm him. “I can’t wait to see her too. Thank you both, for everything.”
As the call ends, Max looks up to see Rupert grinning at him. “So,” his trainer says, “I’m guessing our workout is over for the day?”
Max laughs, a sound of pure joy and relief. “Yeah, I’d say so. Sorry about almost crushing your foot.”
Rupert waves it off. “Small price to pay for good news like that. Go on, get out of here. Go prepare for Y/N’s homecoming.”
Max doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s already dialing his pilot as he rushes towards the locker room. “Frank? I need the jet ready as soon as possible. We need to pick someone up ...”
That evening, Max is pacing the length of his — your — living room, unable to keep still. He’s tidied the already immaculate apartment three times, checked on the cats twice, and changed his shirt four times.
Max takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. He sinks onto the couch, and immediately Jimmy jumps into his lap.
“Hey, buddy,” Max murmurs, scratching behind the cat’s ears. “Mama’s coming home. You excited?”
Jimmy purrs in response, kneading Max’s leg. Sassy, not to be left out, appears from nowhere and curls up next to them.
“Yeah, me too,” Max says softly. He looks around the apartment, memories flooding back. Your first night here together, nervous and excited about taking this step. Lazy Sunday mornings cuddled on this very couch. The time you tried to teach him to dance in the living room, both of you laughing so hard you could barely stand.
The next hour crawls by at an agonizing pace. Max alternates between sitting rigidly on the couch and pacing the floor. He checks his phone obsessively, waiting for updates.
Finally, blessedly, his phone rings. It’s his pilot. “We’ve landed, boss. Y/N’s parents are helping her into the car now. Should be at your place in about 20 minutes.”
Max feels his heart rate double. “Thanks, Frank. Until next time.”
The next 20 minutes are the longest of Max’s life. He stands by the window, watching the street below, waiting for the familiar black SUV to appear.
When it finally does, Max feels like he might pass out. He watches as the car pulls up, as the driver gets out to open the back door. And then ... there you are.
You look tired, a bit pale, but to Max, you’ve never been more beautiful. You look up at the building, a soft smile playing on your lips. And then your eyes meet his through the window.
Max feels his breath catch in his throat. Because in that moment, he sees it. Recognition. Love. You’re really back.
He’s at the door in an instant, yanking it open just as you step off the elevator. For a moment, you both freeze, taking each other in.
“Max,” you whisper, and it’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard.
“Y/N,” he breathes, and then you’re in his arms.
He holds you tightly, burying his face in your hair, breathing you in. You cling to him just as fiercely, and he can feel your tears soaking through his shirt.
“I’m sorry,” you murmur against his chest. “I’m so sorry I forgot you.”
Max pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his hands cupping your face. “Hey, no. You have nothing to be sorry for. You’re here now. You’re home.”
You nod, a watery smile on your face. “I am. I remember, Max. Not everything, not yet. But I remember us. I remember loving you.”
Max feels tears spill down his cheeks, but he doesn’t care. He leans in, pressing his forehead to yours. “I love you so much, liefje. God, I was so scared I’d lost you.”
You shake your head, your hands coming up to wipe away his tears. “Never. You could never lose me, Max Verstappen. Not really.”
And then you’re kissing, and it’s like coming home after a long, difficult journey. It’s familiar and new all at once, and Max never wants it to end.
A loud meow interrupts the moment. You break apart, laughing, to see Jimmy and Sassy winding around your feet, demanding attention.
“Oh, my babies!” You exclaim, kneeling down to scoop them up. “I missed you too!”
Max watches, his heart so full it feels like it might burst. This is what he’s been missing, what he’s been fighting for. You, here, in your home, with your little family.
As you straighten up, cats in arms, Max wraps an arm around your waist. “Welcome home,” he says softly.
You lean into him, a contented sigh escaping your lips. “It’s good to be home.”
Max knows there’s still a long road ahead. Your memory isn’t fully restored, and there will be challenges to face. But right now, in this moment, with you in his arms, he knows everything will be okay.
Because you remembered. You came home. And together, you can face anything.
***
The neon lights of Las Vegas blur into streaks of color as Max races through the city streets, his Red Bull car a blur of blue and red and yellow. The roar of the engine fills his ears, but it can’t drown out the beating of his own heart. This race feels different, more important than any he’s ever driven before.
As he navigates a tight corner, Max’s mind flashes back to the conversation that led him here...
“Max, you need to go back,” you had said, your voice gentle but firm. “Racing is part of who you are. I’m better now, and I want to see you out there doing what you love.”
Max had shaken his head, pulling you closer on the couch. “But what if something happens? What if you need me?”
You had laughed, a sound that still made his heart skip a beat. “I’ll always need you, silly. But I don’t need you hovering over me 24/7. Plus,” you added with a mischievous grin, “I miss seeing you in that race suit.”
Now, as he pushes the car to its limits, Max feels a renewed sense of purpose. He’s not just racing for himself anymore, or for the team. He’s racing for you, to make you proud, to show you that your faith in him wasn’t misplaced.
“Max, you’re pulling away,” GP’s voice crackles through the radio. “Gap to P2 is now 3.5 seconds. Keep this up, mate.”
Max grunts in acknowledgment, too focused to form words. He knows you’re watching from the garage, probably biting your nails like you always do during his races. The thought makes him smile behind his helmet.
Lap after lap, Max maintains his lead. The famous Las Vegas Strip becomes a blur of light and shadow as he speeds past the iconic hotels and casinos. In the back of his mind, he remembers your excitement when you found out about this race.
“Vegas, Max! It’s going to be incredible. Promise me we’ll stay a few extra days after the race?”
He had promised, of course. He’d promise you the moon if you asked for it.
As the final laps approach, Max’s concentration intensifies. He’s been in this position before, leading a race, victory within grasp. But it’s never felt quite like this.
“Two laps to go,” GP informs him. “You’ve got this. Just bring it home.”
Max takes a deep breath, visualizing the remaining track in his mind. He can almost hear your voice, the way you’d whisper “You’ve got this” before every race, a private moment just for the two of you amidst the pre-race chaos.
The last lap arrives, and Max is in the zone. Every turn, every straight, every gear change is perfect. As he rounds the final corner, the chequered flag comes into view.
“Yes!” Max shouts as he crosses the finish line, pumping his fist in the air. The team erupts in cheers over the radio, but Max is waiting for one particular voice.
“Brilliant drive, Max!” GP exclaims. “Absolute masterclass. How does it feel to be back on the top step?”
Max takes a moment to catch his breath, emotions threatening to overwhelm him. When he speaks, his voice is thick with feeling.
“It feels ... it feels incredible,” he says. “But this win, it’s not for me. It’s for Y/N.”
He can hear the surprise and emotion in GP’s voice as he responds. “That’s beautiful. I’m sure she’s over the moon right now.”
As Max begins his cool-down lap, he continues, knowing his words are being broadcast to millions around the world, but speaking only to you.
“Y/N, liefje, this one’s for you. For your strength, your courage, your unwavering support. You pushed me to come back even when I wanted to stay home with you. You believed in me when I doubted myself. This victory is yours as much as it’s mine.”
He pauses, swallowing hard. “I love you, Y/N. More than any trophy, any championship. You’re my biggest win.”
As he pulls into parc fermé, Max can see the team gathered, ready to celebrate. But his eyes scan the crowd, looking for only one person.
And there you are, pushing through the throng of mechanics and officials. Your eyes are shining with tears, but your smile is radiant.
Max practically leaps out of the car, not even bothering with his helmet. He meets you halfway, sweeping you up in his arms and spinning you around.
“You did it!” You exclaim, laughing and crying at the same time. “Oh Max, I’m so proud of you!”
Max sets you down but doesn’t let go, pressing his forehead to yours. “No, we did it. I couldn’t have done this without you.”
You shake your head, still smiling. “This was all you, Max. I just watched from the sidelines.”
“You’ve never been on the sidelines,” Max says firmly. “You’re the reason I’m here. The reason I push myself to be better, on and off the track.”
Before you can respond, the team descends upon them, whooping and cheering. Max is pulled away for the podium ceremony, but his eyes never leave you.
The champagne flows, the anthems play, but it all feels like a blur to Max. All he can think about is getting back to you, celebrating properly.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity of photos and interviews, Max is able to escape back to the team’s hospitality area. You’re waiting for him, a glass of champagne in hand and a proud smile on your face.
“There’s my champion,” you say softly as he approaches.
Max pulls you close, not caring who might be watching. “I meant what I said on the radio,” he murmurs. “This win is yours.”
You laugh, a sound that still makes his heart soar. “Well, in that case, I guess I should start preparing my acceptance speech for the Prize Giving Ceremony.”
Max grins, playing along. “Oh yeah? And what would this speech entail?”
You pretend to think for a moment. “Let’s see … I’d like to thank the academy, and of course, my incredibly handsome and talented boyfriend, without whom none of this would be possible ...”
Max laughs, feeling lighter than he has in months. “Handsome and talented, huh? I like the sound of that.”
You smack his arm playfully. “Don’t let it go to your head, Verstappen. I’ve seen you first thing in the morning, remember?”
“Hey, I thought you said I was cute when I’m all sleepy and rumpled,” Max protests.
“Cute, yes. Handsome is a stretch,” you tease.
Max clutches his chest in mock offense. “You wound me. And after I just dedicated my win to you and everything.”
You soften, reaching up to cup his face. “It was beautiful, Max. Really. I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”
Max turns serious, covering your hand with his own. “You existed. That’s more than enough.”
You stand there for a moment, lost in each other’s eyes, the celebration continuing around you unnoticed.
Finally, Max breaks the silence. “So, about that promise to stay a few extra days in Vegas ...”
Your eyes light up. “Oh, you remembered! I was hoping you would.”
Max grins. “Of course I remembered. I was thinking... maybe we could make it a bit more special than just a few extra days?”
You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “What did you have in mind?”
Max takes a deep breath, suddenly nervous. This wasn’t how he’d planned to do this, but standing here with you, flush with victory and love, it feels right.
“Well,” he says slowly, reaching into his pocket, “I was thinking maybe we could celebrate our engagement.”
Your eyes widen as Max drops to one knee, pulling out a small velvet box. The noise of the celebration fades away, leaving just the two of you in your own little bubble.
“Y/N,” Max begins, his voice shaky but determined, “these past few months have been the hardest of my life. But they’ve also shown me, without a doubt, that you’re the one I want to spend the rest of my life with. Through good times and bad, wins and losses, I want you by my side.”
He opens the box, revealing a stunning diamond ring. “Will you marry me?”
You gasp, tears filling your eyes. For a heart-stopping moment, Max fears he’s misjudged, moved too fast. But then you’re nodding, a radiant smile breaking through the tears.
“Yes,” you whisper. “Yes, Max. A thousand times yes.”
Max slips the ring onto your finger with trembling hands, then stands to pull you into a passionate kiss. The team, finally noticing what’s happening, erupts into cheers and applause.
As you break apart, breathless and giddy, Max rests his forehead against yours. “I love you. More than I ever thought possible.”
You beam up at him, your eyes shining with happiness. “I love you too. Always and forever.”
As the team swarms around them, offering congratulations and calling for more champagne, Max holds you close. This, he realizes, is his true victory. Not the race win, not the trophies or the championships. But this moment, with you in his arms, promising a future together.
***
Emma settles into her favorite armchair, a steaming mug of tea on the side table and Max Verstappen’s newly released autobiography in her hands. As a long-time fan of Formula 1 and Max in particular, she’s been eagerly anticipating this book.
She flips through the early chapters, smiling at familiar stories of Max’s rise through the ranks of motorsport. But it’s the chapter titled “The Race of My Life” that catches her attention. This, she knows, is where Max will finally open up about the period when he stepped away from racing — a time that had puzzled and worried fans.
As Emma begins reading, she’s immediately struck by the raw emotion in Max’s words.
I thought I knew what pressure was. The weight of expectations, the split-second decisions that could mean victory or defeat. But nothing in my racing career could have prepared me for the day I walked into that hospital room and saw the love of my life look at me without a hint of recognition.
Emma feels a lump form in her throat. She remembers the press conference where Max had revealed the reason for his absence, but this ... this is different. This is Max laying bare his soul in a way she’s never seen before.
In that moment, I realized that all the trophies, all the victories, all the adoration from fans — none of it mattered. The true test of my life wasn’t on any track. It was right there, in that sterile hospital room, facing the possibility of losing the one person who saw me not as Max Verstappen the driver, but just as Max.
Emma finds herself blinking back tears. She’s always admired Max for his skill on the track, his determination, his fierce competitiveness. But this vulnerability, this raw honesty, shows a side of him she never knew existed.
The chapter continues, detailing the days and weeks following the accident. Max describes the pain of seeing you struggle to remember, the hope that would flare with each small recognition, and the crushing disappointment when progress stalled.
I’ve faced some of the best drivers in the world, pushed myself to the absolute limit of human capability. But nothing — nothing — has ever been as challenging as sitting by her bedside, day after day, telling her stories of our life together and seeing no spark of remembrance in her eyes. It was like watching the person I loved most in the world slip away, inch by inch, and being powerless to stop it.
Emma has to pause her reading, overwhelmed by the emotion. She tries to imagine what it must have been like for Max, known for his control and precision on the track, to face a situation where he had no control at all.
As she continues reading, she’s struck by Max’s honesty about his own struggles during this time:
There were moments — dark, terrible moments — when I wondered if it would be easier to walk away. To accept that the woman I loved was gone, replaced by this stranger who wore her face but didn’t know my heart. The guilt I felt for even thinking such thoughts nearly crushed me. But I realized that true love, real love, isn’t just about the easy times. It’s about choosing to stay, to fight, even when every instinct is screaming at you to run.
Emma finds herself nodding, moved by Max’s profound realization. She remembers following his career, cheering his victories, sympathizing with his defeats. But this … this feels like she’s truly seeing the man behind the racer for the first time.
The chapter takes a turn as Max describes the day you started to remember:
When she looked at me that day, really looked at me, and I saw recognition in her eyes — it was like winning every championship, every race, all at once. No podium celebration could ever compare to the joy of hearing her say my name, of feeling her arms around me, knowing that she remembered us, our love, our life together.
Emma feels tears rolling down her cheeks now, unashamed. She’s always been moved by stories of love and perseverance, but knowing this is real, that it happened to someone she’s admired for so long, makes it all the more powerful.
As the chapter nears its end, Max reflects on how this experience changed him:
I returned to racing eventually, but I was never the same driver … or the same man. I had faced my greatest fear and come out the other side. I had learned that there are things more precious than any trophy, more thrilling than any race. I learned the true meaning of love, of commitment, of fighting for what really matters in life.
Emma closes the book, needing a moment to process everything she’s read. She feels like she’s seen a completely new side of Max Verstappen, one that goes far beyond the confident, sometimes brash young driver she remembers.
Picking up her phone, she opens Twitter, scrolling through reactions to the book. It seems she’s not alone in her emotional response. Fans and fellow drivers alike are sharing their thoughts.
Just finished @Max33Verstappen’s book. I’m in tears. What an incredible story of love and perseverance ❤️
Always respected Max as a driver, but this book shows what a truly remarkable person he is.
Emma adds her own tweet to the mix.
Thank you, @Max33Verstappen, for sharing your story. You’ve shown us that the greatest victories in life often happen off the track 🥺
She picks up the book again, turning to the final pages of the chapter. Max’s closing words resonate deeply.
In the end, life isn’t about the races you win or the records you break. It’s about the people you love, the bonds you forge, the differences you make. My greatest achievement isn’t any trophy or title. It’s the life I’ve built with her, the love we’ve nurtured through good times and bad. That’s my true legacy, and it’s one that will last far beyond when the chequered flag last waves for me.
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