Fishformula - Just A Fish Going Insane

GALEX : area codes <3

edit idea from my dear friend @sunrisespeedway <3

they're having so much fun 😭😭😭

they should arrive to the paddock like this one day

reference

mv33 and 24

why'd you only call me when you're high?

feat. max verstappen

lyrics preview you get high, call max, spend the night with him: that’s what you both agreed to—nothing more. unless...

maddie reader is the toxic one in this??? what happened to sweet old yn???

1435 words

The violent screen light cut through the darkness of the street when you unlocked your phone, the numbers 03:08 burning bright behind your eyelids as you squinted at them like they’d personally offended you.

You knew it was late. Or early, depending on the point of view.

But you also knew it wouldn’t take him long to reply, so you searched for his contact and started the call with no regrets whatsoever.

It rang once, twice–

“Schat?”

Just as you thought.

“Hi Maxie,” you giggled, the slurred nickname rolling off your tongue with ease. “I missed you.”

You left the words hanging heavy in the air, waiting for him to take the bait like a lioness ambushing her prey.

He sighed, and you could almost picture him running a hand over his face, tired—not because of the ungodly hour, but because of you.

You and your little game of cat and mouse, a game he knew he couldn’t win, but he just kept playing regardless because he enjoyed losing to you way too much.

“You’re high.”

It wasn’t a question. Why ask if he knew perfectly well you only called him when you were?

“A little,” you shrugged like it was no big deal, tripping over your own feet a second later. “I’m coming over.”

Again, not a question. You didn’t need his permission: that’s not how things worked between the two of you.

“I don’t think–”

“You don’t have to, baby,” you cut him off sweetly. “Just leave the door open for me, ’kay?”

He did. Of course he did.

When you finally stumbled in the hallway in front of his apartment, floor and ceiling dancing furiously before your eyes, all you had to do was push, and the handle immediately gave in under your dead weight.

You kicked off your heels in the entrance like you owned the place, walking straight up to the living room with a lot more confidence than someone who looked like she’d just went to hell and back should’ve had.

Max was there, pacing the room like a caged animal—loose pants low on his hips, no shirt.

Perfect.

He stopped in his tracks as soon as he heard the velvety pad of your thigh highs skimming across the pavement, turning around just in time for you to throw your arms around his neck and pull him down into a kiss so intense it made your head spin even more.

The warmth of his lips against yours was intoxicating—a different kind of drug from the one that clouded your senses and helped you get rid of your thoughts one puff of smoke after the other. It was grounding, the only thing that anchored you to this world when everything else kept slipping from your grasp.

Only this time—he did, too.

The loss of contact was so brutal that you almost toppled forward when he moved back, your mouth desperately chasing his as if you needed it to breathe.

“Max, come on,” you whined, hands already making their way back to his chest, “don’t be difficult. I want you.” You didn’t care about how pathetic that might sound because it was also embarrassingly true.

“No.”

He didn’t touch you, putting some distance between you instead, but that single word left a stinging sensation so vivid on your skin that you could’ve sworn he’d hit you.

“No?” You laughed in disbelief. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means we’re not doing anything tonight.”

“Yeah, sure,” you scoffed, sneering, though you could feel the weight of something ugly slowly starting to settle in your chest.

“I’m serious. You’re too high for this.”

There it was.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that was a problem the last fifty times I was,” you raised your voice, the weed in your system dangerously amplifying your growing anger.

“It was a problem,” he groaned, “I just–”

“What, you developed a conscience overnight? You don’t want to fuck me anymore because I’m stoned and you suddenly feel sorry for me?”

He took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose like he was trying—and failing—to get rid of a piercing headache.

You didn’t like that.

“Can you not… talk like this?”

The condescending tone of his question sounded awfully close to the one someone would use to deal with a spoiled child.

You didn’t like that either.

“Please, I thought you were used to people treating you like shit,” you rolled your eyes at him, swaying a dismissive hand in his direction.

He caught it.

“You’re the one treating yourself like shit, and I need you to stop it.”

“Gee, Max, what’s gotten into you?” you forced out a laugh as you averted your gaze, the intensity of his far more unsettling than the lustful, almost predatory look you were used to. “You’re acting like you’re in love with me or something.”

It was supposed to be a joke.

It was supposed to be funny.

Max Verstappen caring about someone like you?

Hilarious.

So why didn’t he laugh?

Why was he staring at you like–

“No,” you spit out the way he had a few minutes before, reading in his eyes what his mouth had been too slow to tell you.

“Yes.”

Three letters. That’s all it took for the house of cards you’d built around yourself to crumble.

“You don’t love me, Max.” Your tone was firm, pitiful even, as if you hoped that hearing you say those words out loud would help him realize just how absurd they sounded.

Or at least trick him into thinking they did.

“Yes, I d–”

“That’s bullshit. You love feeling needed, you love all the attention I give you and how easy I am for you, you love having me in your bed every night—you don’t love me.”

“No, this is what you convinced yourself to believe. And you want to know why? Because you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared, Max, I’m pissed. We agreed to no strings attached sex, and now you’re busting out a fucking love confession like it wasn’t the first thing I told you I didn’t need.”

Your voice cracked toward the end of the sentence, and you hated yourself for it.

But what you hated even more was how you couldn’t stop the tears already clouding your vision to start streaming down your cheeks, the dam behind your eyelids suddenly breaking.

You wanted to wipe them away, remove all evidence of their existence, but Max’s fingers were still wrapped tightly around one of your wrists—or was it your throat?

“Let me go,” you said, voice stern but shaky as you tugged back your hand.

“Why? So you can run away and keep pretending like this means nothing to you?”

“It doesn’t! God, Max, what’s so hard to understand? It doesn’t mean anything to me!” You emphasized the word by hitting him square in the chest with your free palm, part trying to push him away, part just because you wanted to hurt him.

“This,” you added, showing off the half smoked joint you still had in the pocket of your hoodie, “is what your love is made of. The version of me that wants you doesn’t exist—it’s all in here,” you laughed, bitter and cruel, throwing it at him.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t yell. Just raised the hand he wasn’t holding you with and moved a lock of hair out of your face.

Your reaction was immediate.

“Don’t touch me,” you jumped, slapping his fingers away like they’d burned you.

Which was weird because you’d gone all the way there and begged him to do just that.

“You ruined everything,” you sobbed, your fist landing against his bare skin over and over again as he pulled you even closer—too close. “It was so simple, and you fucked it all up.”

You cried, fought, screamed, your curses muffled in the crook of his neck as you blamed him for something he couldn’t control.

And he let you.

He held you through every second of it, his arms caging you in like you were both a frail creature to protect and a wild animal to lock up.

“I hate you,” you breathed out at last, completely drained from the drug, your outburst—him.

Max didn’t say anything at first, and for one insane, wishful moment you thought he would finally give up.

But then he whispered, “You don’t hate me, schat. You hate not being able to love yourself the way I do.”

And that broke you a little more.

© 2025 l4ndoflove. all rights reserved.

you’re not “behind” on your story. you’re building something. and sometimes building requires standing in the ruins for a bit.

throwing out my predictions for imola gp for fun

- Ferrari or kimi pole (for narrative reasons)

- Oscar is gonna start like p3 or sth, maybe Norris start p2

- I think Oscar will win a fourth

- one Ferrari is gonna dnf

- Williams podium!! this is the real manifestation on this prediction

- I think Ollie will get into the points (the Prema blood gonna push him for the home race points)

- Aston Martin points?

➤ OBLIVIOUS | F1 SMAU + FIC

pairing: f1 grid x albon!reader (platonic!)

summary: the f1 drivers make the mistake of saying they're always aware of their surroundings, so you start an Instagram account to prove them wrong...by seeing how long it takes them to realize you're taking photos of them.

warnings: none!

➤ MASTERLIST

Liked by alex_albon, georgerussell63, and others

visacashapprb Do your F1 drivers know when we're recording them? Or anyone, for that matter? Seems like the answer is yes! 

↳ yn_albon really @/alexalbon? 

↳ alex_albon I am very observant, thank you very much 

↳ yn_albon we'll see about that

↳ fan44 there's literally paparazzi footage of the drivers every other day, of course they notice, they just pretend like they don't

_

Liked by yn_albon and others

oblivious_f1_drivers the guys said they know when they're being photographed, my camera roll says otherwise

↳ mclar_win Oscar's side eye is crazy 

↳ brocedes this HAS to be like George or someone proving a point

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers George wishes he was me

↳ fan16 this is either a prank or a stalker...watch out guys

_

Liked by alex_albon and others

oblivious_f1_drivers first up: dumb and dumber 🧡 i should start timing how long it takes for them to notice 

↳ alex_albon if I end up in one of these, I'm telling everyone 

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers no promises

↳ f1_fantatic alex, our chronically online king

↳ fan44 oscar and lando together = fork found in kitchen

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Liked by alex_albon and others

oblivious_f1_drivers in the lead as always, Max Verstappen comes in first by taking two days to notice!

↳ mclar_win max always has to be first, doesn't he?

↳ fan44 no wonder he looks so happy 

↳ mad_maxxx why is the second picture lowkey...

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Liked by alex_albon and others

oblivious_f1_drivers i got too cocky 😔 tried to go for the super close up and got caught :( current record: three days

↳ fan16 so both Max and Charles now know your identity??

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers they've already been sworn to secrecy

↳ carcarcar who could this be?? charles was happy to see them so it wasn't a stranger

↳ f1_fanatic i mean, alex is lurking in the likes 👀

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Liked by alex_albon, yn_albon, and others

oblivious_f1_drivers idk what made him more mad, the fact that he crashed or the fact he caught me

↳ alex_albon we had a promise 

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers i literally said no promises

↳ alex_albon get ready to give up this account 

↳ mclar_win it has to be George, right? 

↳ carcarcar if it were George he'd be smiling liked by oblivious_f1_drivers

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Liked by lando, georgerussell63 and others

oblivious_f1_drivers a week and a half for Mr. Lando Norris! i would've taken more but this man was too excited to catch me

↳ lando See? I'm very observant

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers it took you a week and a half to catch me

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers even alex got it in less time 

↳ alex_albon hey!

↳ georgerussell63 any chance I can beg for immunity?

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers send me photos of oblivious drivers, and then maybe we'll talk

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Liked by alex_albon and others

oblivious_f1_drivers someone tipped him off...at least I snuck one in

↳ alex_albon 😇

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers we could've had something, alex 

↳ alex_albon you're the one who broke their promise 

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers I NEVER PROMISED

↳ alex_albon wait why are you that close to lance in the third photo 

↳ alex_albon answer your texts!!

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Liked by lando, oscarpiastri, and others

oblivious_f1_drivers what's this? oscar finally noticed? after TWO WEEKS? enjoy all the photos

↳ oscarpiastri listen we have a lot to do during race weeks 

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers like pay attention to your photographers??

↳ oscarpiastri that's not even your job

↳ nicolepiastri so it's not just me being ignored?

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers @/oscarpiastri text your mom or I'm stealing her

↳ oscarpiastri will do 🫡

↳ brocedes so we KNOW its not a photographer

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Liked by alex_albon, georgerussell63 and others

oblivious_f1_drivers looks like we're not the ONLY oblivious ones #/hacked #/alexandgeorgehaveyourphone #/thebetteralbon

↳ yn_albon GEORGE???

↳ georgerussell63 why are you mad at me?? be mad at alex!

↳ alex_albon yeah george, how could you do this?

↳ f1_fanatic the albon siblings causing trouble on track as usual 

↳ lando payback for having to look over my shoulder all week

-

You hold your hand out to Alex, who reluctantly drops your phone into your palm. Sometimes, you think, people forget you were actual siblings, who had just the same amount of fun annoying each other as any other pair of siblings in the world. The only difference, however, was that your brother happened to be a world-famous F1 driver, and you were a journalist trailing him around all day. 

So honestly? You were perfectly within your rights to post all those silly photos of him and his friends. After all, it was something to occupy you in the rare moments you weren't hearing about being an Albon, or growing up around all the drivers, or waiting for Alex to come to an interview ten minutes late because you couldn't really say anything about it.

"I can't believe you," You direct both towards Alex and George, checking to make sure they didn't mess with anything else on your phone. 

You had to give them some credit in their retaliation. Alex must have been sneaking photos of you all week, and then airdropped them to your phone to put onto your Instagram account. You'd never say that out loud, however.

Lord knows he didn't need the extra ego.

"Me?" Alex asks, looking rather insulted. "You're the one out here taking photos of us secretly." 

"You're the one who said you weren't oblivious. I've seen you walk into a pole! Be serious." There's a joke to be made about him walking into poles yet never getting pole, but that's a bit too harsh, even for you. 

"Be serious?" Alex parrots, rubbing a hand over his face. "Be serious! You are so lucky you're family, or I would've kicked you out of the paddock by now." 

With the same grin you'd been pulling on him since you were a kid, you force him to reconcile with the fact that he actually did this to himself. "Unfortunately, you did also get me a job with F1, so you couldn't even kick me out if you tried." 

"I'm sure they'd let me kick someone out if I needed to." He mutters, shaking his head, and before you can open your mouth, he raises a finger. "We're not making another bet about this." 

George, finally content with how the conversation has ended, speaks up. "I can't believe it took Oscar so long to notice." 

"I know, I thought it would be Charles." Alex answers honestly, and George pauses for a moment before turning to you.

"Should I be concerned I never caught you taking pictures of me?" His expression is stuck somewhere between the horror of potentially not noticing you and relief that you might have excluded him, considering the deal you struck up. To your surprise, George actually did supply you with oblivious photos of the drivers, a sort of double blackmail you can't wait to spring.

And, while he hasn't ended up on the account yet, there's still time.

He did help steal your phone, after all. He will pay. "I just didn't get to post yours. You're also pretty oblivious." 

"No, I'm not!" He says, pointing down at your phone. "We checked the camera roll, there was nothing of me on there!" 

"You think I'd leave those on my camera roll?" You ask with the same grin, now pointed at him. "Oh, I keep my secrets much more guarded, thank you." Alex offers a look, and you shove his shoulder. So maybe he had a point about you leaving your phone unattended around a man who knew the password and knew you ran a secret account, but still! "This secret doesn't count." 

"I'm sure it doesn't," Alex says with a laugh before leaning in closer. "Any good ones of George?" 

"Got one of him picking his nose?" 

With a screech you can only describe as inhuman, George loses all the colour in his face. "You do not!" Then, as he reaches for your phone, both you and Alex take a step back. "Albons, don't do this to me!" 

You and Alex are running before George even has a chance to catch up. 

It's a rare time Alex ever actually beats George in a race.

-

Liked by lando, alex_albon, and others

oblivious_f1_drivers my cover has been blown :( it was fun while it lasted

↳ alex_albon I'm really glad I got you hired as a journalist and not a photographer, these are terrible

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers ow??

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers I can't even be a nepo sister in peace

↳ isackhadjar oh come on 

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers your expression captures how I feel, it deserves the first slide

↳ georgerussell63 hey, i thought we had a deal 

↳ alex_albon you made a deal with george and not me??

↳ oblivious_f1_drivers @/georgerussell63 the deal ended when YOU STOLE MY PHONE 

a/n: my friends have started playing photo tag on campus, which is the only way i can describe where this came from - enjoy?

carlos: my kind of people, love for free. i'm a free lover.