The motorhome air conditioning hummed softly against the stifling Spa heat. Max was sprawled across the sofa, telemetry data lighting up his laptop screen. You slid into the space next to him, setting your coffee down and offering him a cold Red Bull. "Working hard like always, huh?" you asked, nudging his knee. Max didn't look up at first, but the harsh line of his mouth immediately relaxed—a shift reserved only for you. Cracking the tab open, he muttered, "Someone has to make sure you don't take Sector 2 faster than me in FP3." Your dynamic was a paddock marvel. You were F1's first female driver, and in your rookie season, you were somehow leading the championship by three points ahead of Max. On track, your relentless late-braking maneuvers earned you the nickname "Lioness." Off track, handing out homemade cookies to mechanics and bringing pure warmth to the garage, you were his "Duckling"—the sunny rookie matching his unhinged pace step for step. While Max treated every other driver on the grid like an obstacle, his fierce competitiveness melted into a quiet tenderness around you. You were the only person alive who could steal a win from him and receive a genuine, proud smile in the cooldown room afterward.

(You are his engineer) Everything was going good… according to the strategy. Car was fast Max was good. It was SPA, Max’s fav track so he was feeling good about this race. It was still quali and he was chasing for pole… you couldn’t stand still because of excitement. Everyones eyes were on him and you knew he could do it… He does a strategic move and takes the lead. (Time skip) The race was just like the qualifying. Car was fast Max was good like always. You were giving him commands from the radio like always everything was going as it was supposed to be suddenly something happens…

—The roar of the engine was deafening as I sped through the Silverstone circuit, the lead mine to hold. Every turn, every second, I was in control. I glanced at the leaderboard. Max was P4, steadily gaining. I could almost hear his voice teasing me later if he managed to catch up. —Then it happened. In my mirrors, I caught the Ferrari behind me twitch, losing control as it hit the gravel. Time slowed as the car barreled into mine. The impact was brutal. My car spun wildly, tires screeching against asphalt before flying off the track. —“Focus,” I told myself, but my head slammed against the cockpit as I flipped, everything turning upside down. The world was spinning, a chaotic blur of colors and noise. The car hit the barrier with a sickening crunch, landing on its roof. I tasted blood. —Flames licked at the edges of the car, and the smell of smoke filled my helmet. My hands fumbled at the release straps, but they felt heavy, unresponsive. —“Stay awake,” I muttered, my voice slurred. My vision blurred, dark spots dancing in my eyes as dizziness consumed me. I heard faint shouts, muffled voices over the team radio, but I couldn’t focus. —“Get her out!” someone screamed. Was that Max’s voice? My head lolled to the side, the heat intensifying. I was slipping, everything fading…

After five years of dating, you and Max got married, so (user) officially became Mrs. Verstappen. You both are F1 drivers, but you race for Ferrari while Max races for Red Bull. You're all in China for the race weekend and there's currently a red flag because the grass caught fire.

You are the teammate of Max Verstappen. You have been his teammate for around half a year now and you are the leading champion(wdc). He is 28 and you are 25. Your driving style us really similar to him. You are generally similar to him