mint--yoongs

[mint--yoongs]

a small request

max verstappen x reader | 2k

even world champions deserve love letters. after missing the mexico gp, you're determined to see max have a good weekend in brazil. maybe all it takes is a handwritten note.

cw: fem!reader, being in love, softness, a track-side kiss, love letters. and google translate, sorry to any dutch speakers.

a/n: was this inspired by that video from austin? yeah, it was! sue me! also, written/posted before the gp, so. no race details <3 xx

__

You miss race weekend in Mexico. It happens. You can't be there every weekend, much as you'd like to be. You're even more peeved about it after, considering you quite like Carlos and wish you had seen him earn what very well might be his last win with Ferrari. But you're mostly upset because Max, though he won't say so, could probably have used your support.

Years of experience have him calm, cool, and collected despite the team troubles. Flippant, some headlines say. Mad Max, others. But you know he's probably just tired. Tired of the media, of the FIA, of the churning conflict between him and Lando -- something you all knew was coming someday, but maybe not so suddenly. The longest season ever continues to drag and drag and drag.

"Twenty seconds was...Christ, Max," you say. You know what happened, of course. You watched what you could, saw the sharp moves around the corner and heard the radios. It never gets easier, watching him take risks like that. Usually, everyone else backs off, but McLaren can see victory on the horizon and won't let it go. You can't blame them, either of them, you just wish it was all a bit less tense.

"I know," he says, voice raspy over the connection. "I -- well, you know how I feel about it. Don't want to say anything in case the FIA is tapping my phone."

You laugh into your hand so you don't disturb the other people in the airline lounge, not entirely used to places like this, still. Max has told you over and over that it's absurd for you to spend your own money when you're coming to see him all over the world. When you told him you moved things around so you could come to Brazil, he booked you the nicest ticket, per usual.

"Oh, ha, ha," you say. "Don't give them any ideas, Mr. Community Service." You sigh. "Do you need anything? Be honest."

"Aren't you at the airport already? Your flight should be leaving in --" A pause, like he's checking his watch -- "forty minutes."

You glance up at the departures screen. He's right, but you don't give it to him so easily. "Know my schedule, do you?"

"Well, I booked your ticket, so I should think so."

"Your assistant booked it, you mean."

He hums and you picture him in his hotel room, maybe at the window, looking over the city. "I know your flight information. Don't be silly."

"I mean it, Max," you say again. "Is there anything I can do to make the weekend better?" It's a bit of a useless question and you expect him to answer with a snarky get me a new car or apply for the position of steward.

But he doesn't. He clears his throat.

"I'm just glad you're coming," he says, softly. "I've missed you."

You never doubt how Max feels about you, but he must be pretty tired to admit it like this. He's all about actions, this man. Making sure you have what you need when you're at the track, arranging your travel, remembering your schedule. He shows you how much you matter, and that's more than enough. He never wants to make you feel bad for having a life beyond being his girlfriend. And this doesn't, not really. It just makes you ache, fills your chest with the hopeless affection you've felt for him for so long.

"I've missed you, too," you reply. "But I'd like to be useful."

"Oh, I can think of a few things, then," Max says, all of a sudden all cheek. Such a boy, sometimes. A boy in love.

You can't help but laugh, face hot. "Hush, you!"

He huffs. A few beats of silence, the comfortable, well-worn kind. Sometimes, when he's halfway across the world and up late on the sim, he'll call you just to hear you breathe.

"Max?"

"I -- do you remember what you did for my birthday?"

He'd wanted something small, quiet. There was a lot of work to be done with the team but three weekends off meant you had a little time to yourselves. A few days hardly leaving his place, a dinner with some of the guys, a cake you made yourself, hand-delivered in bed. Gifts for a very wealthy man are difficult, especially since Max doesn't seem to want much.

"Oh, the pillow with my face on it?"

Max laughs. The lounge loudspeaker announces that your flight is going to board soon, so you gather your things but keep your phone wedged next to your ear.

"No, the other thing," he says. He clears his throat and summons some of that World Champion courage. "The letter."

You'd written him a fairly long love letter, thinking it would be a nice thing to carry to the races you couldn't be at this fall. It was tempting to be embarrassed about it when you gave it to him the morning of his birthday, but his cheeks had gone pink and he'd buried his face in your neck.

"Oh, that," you say. The airport is busier outside the lounge and you push your case in the direction of your gate weaving between. people.

"You could write me another, maybe."

Max is direct. He is honest, at work and at home, but this surprises you a little.

"You do know I'm about to get on a plane to see you, right?"

He huffs, and you imagine his cheeks pink, eyes bright. "You asked!"

"I'll write you another love letter, Max Verstappen," you assure him. "I'll write you a hundred."

"One is a fine start," he says firmly. "You should be boarding soon, and I've got to go to the press conference. Text me when you've landed?"

"Of course," you reply, eyes rolling though he can't see. "I'll see you soon, okay? Love you."

"Love you, liefje."

On the plane, you tear out some pages from your journal. You'd prefer to have some nice stationery like what you wrote on for his birthday, but maybe this is more romantic, more real. Making do with that you've got because he asked.

In the last one, you told him your memories of when you first met. How your stomach swooped when you made him laugh, how his blue eyes wouldn't leave your dreams. In this one you tell him about when you first realized you loved him. How absurdly early you were sure, how badly you wanted to tell him for weeks. The way you remember every second of when you blurted it out -- his face, his smile. His voice in your ear, telling you over and over, geliefde, ik houd van je, zo veel. I love you, so much.

"You're working hard on that," someone says. You look up at your seatmate, a woman a few decades older than you with a heavy accent.

You feel a little like you've been caught doing something illicit, but you just smile at her. "For my boyfriend," you tell her. "A love letter."

She flattens her palm over heart and sighs. "How lovely," she coos. "I hope he takes care of you, too."

We take care of each other, you want to say. You could tell her about how he sends you postcards from every country he goes to after you told him you like to put them on your fridge. You could tell her how sometimes you text him during his streams to make him laugh on camera. How he remembers your favorites, how he saves you his special team gear, how he sends you flowers all the time. How he likes to sit on the couch, your toes under his thigh, fingers around your ankle. How you've been learning Dutch and how he patiently corrects your pronunciation. You could go on and on and on.

"He does," you say instead.

__

The plane lands safely in Brazil, but the pilot tells you that there is no open gate and that you'll be sitting for a while. You text Max.

stuck on tarmac, will be later than expected! :(

He must be in media responsibilities still because he doesn't reply until you finally get off the plane.

go relax at the hotel. i'll see you for dinner!

You find your ride easy enough and take a deep breath. The letter you wrote on the plane feels heavy in your pocket, and you just want to see Max. To be near him again. To give him this small thing he asked for.

"Excuse me," you say to the driver. "Do you think we could go to the track, instead?"

You text Max's assistant to say you're headed there, hoping it's not too much of an inconvenience. You're told he's almost done, maybe an hour left, and when you arrive you're led to his driver rooms. His shit is everywhere, per usual. Max is quite neat except in here -- Carmen once told you that George is the same. Clothes strewn about, his race boots unlaced and left in the way, warm-up equipment in a pile. On the table are a few of his things -- his wallet, a notebook, some papers.

Wait a second. One of those papers looks...familiar. It's been folded in three, the envelope it came in nowhere to be seen. His name is scrawled on the blank side in your hand and when you tug it from the pile you can see that it's creased, the edges a little more worn than when you gave it to him a few months ago. Max Verstappen, three-time World Champion, actually carries around the love letter you wrote him. Brings it to the track. It's darling. You love him so much. You pull the new one from your pocket and set them side-by-side on the table where he'll find them.

You ask to be taken to the pit wall, please, so you can see whatever the drivers are doing on track. Some dedication, you're told. The timing ends up being perfect and you get there just as they're finishing. You lean on a gap in the barrier where, on Sunday, crew members will be holding timing signs as the drivers zip around the hot pavement. The crowd in the stands is loud, as always, and maybe you imagine it but it seems to get a little louder when you look out.

The guys are talking amongst themselves and a few of them wave at you. You spot Max as he turns away from Charles and you can't help but grin. His eyes meet yours under his cap and his entire face chances, softens, and he breaks into a jog. You lean out over the concrete ledge and meet him in a kiss that's more two smiles pressed together than anything else.

"This is a surprise," he says when he pulls away. Eyes sparkling, he shows no signs of rejoining the other drivers as they head to whatever their next thing is. Photos, probably.

"I missed you," you tell him. "I've left you something in your room."

"Oh?" He straightens the lanyard of your credentials with careful fingers.

You reach for him, palm on his cheek. His stubble tickles and he leans into it ever so slightly. It doesn't feel like there are thousands of eyes on you, not even a little.

"Yeah," you say. "As promised." Someone calls his name. "Go on, then. I'll be waiting."

He kisses you again, a quick brush of his lips on the corner of your mouth.

Later, you'll wake from your nap in the hotel room to those same kisses on your cheeks, your forehead. Max will gather you in his arms and tell you all the moments he almost told you he loved you, how he could hardly believe when you said it first. You'll tease him for how many times he's read that first letter and he'll cheekily say that's why he needs more. And you will write him more, you'll write him as many as he wants. As many as you can, for the rest of your lives.

But now, in front of thousands of screaming fans, he smiles at only you, boyish and pleased.

[mint--yoongs]

on that night, when you called Yoongi crying because the world had been too much for you, he left everything to go to you. in that same night, when the world seemed to crumble, Yoongi held you in his arms, gluing every piece of you broken heart with his tender love. and you cried yourself to sleep again that night, but Yoongi was with you and he made sure he kissed all your tears goodbye.

the next morning, both of you went along with your separate lives, but at night, when you were so close to fall asleep overwhelmed with everything, you received a text from Yoongi that made your fragile heart realize that maybe, just maybe, there could be love in this cold world.

“ how am i supposed to fall asleep alone now that i know what it feels like to have you in my arms? ”

[mint--yoongs]

Hello there! Love your work on the Max Verstappen x reader fiction. If it isn't too much, can I request an angst based on the song " All I wanted was a coffee" by Samantha Ebert? You can decide the ending but, a gut wrenching angst with kelly is appreciated. Thank you!

I hope you like this, I tried to use the song in the way that I saw fit. The reader has many insecurities and bit of mommy issues. Mention of cuts and bleeding.

I wish you loved me

{Reader’s POV}

Max and I started dating soon after he got out of a really long relationship with his ex. With Max being a Formula One driver; the details of his past were general knowledge, did I wish I didn’t know? Yes. Because in the pictures of Max and Kelly, you could see his eyes sparkled and he would smile so bright sometimes and I felt like I never got to know that Max. But every relationship is different; I couldn’t compare it, could I?

Max was loving, I mean every boyfriend is. He would sometimes forget important stuff but he was a busy man with an even busier job.

But it hurt when I saw Max with P or Kelly for that matter. His eyes would light up; I just felt like crap every time he met them, but Max never noticed. At the end of the day, Max was always around P while she was growing up, it was a given she missed him, right?

It got worse when Kelly started coming to races and meeting Max. The worst was yet to come; the other girlfriends started to side eye me whenever me and Max would interacted as if Max was Kelly’s boyfriend.

I was in the bathroom when I heard them; they were talking about how Max and Kelly looked cute together, they were the model family, that Max deserved better. Kelly even talked about all the gifts he got her and P recently. I just sat there in the cubical for a very long time.

I waited, I was dumb I know but no one’s loved me before and the fact that Max was willing to love me even for a moment felt like relief. I didn't want to let him go, I couldn't not when there was a chance he would come back.

I waited like always, Max was always away having dinner with P since she missed him. She missed him a lot ever since we started dating. I never said anything since Max was like her father figure but it hurt.

One of those nights, I was sat drinking whiskey, it was in Max’s alcohol cabinet. The bottle was almost over. The snacks finished up soon after the third glass. I was sat on the floor, glass in hand when Max walked in. “World’s best dad everyone” I sang. “How much did you drink?” He laughed. He laughed at me. “You know my mother was right” I said, trying to get up. “She wasn’t really the best mom, now was she” Max commented. “Yeah but she was right about a lot of things and she was right about how difficult to love I was” I laughed. Max looked at me with sadness in his eyes, “don’t pity me Max.... How could Kelly steal you from me?” I cried. Max said nothing. “No no sorry sorry, how can something be stolen from me when it was never mine to begin with.” I laughed bitterly taking the last swig from my glass. “The alcohol’s gone Max, just like your feelings for me or did you ever have them to begin with?” I slurred.

“Y/N I” Max began. “No Max, you’re not at fault. It’s my fault for coming between 2 lovers. You should’ve told me that you loved her, I would’ve never dated you” I cried for the first time tonight in front of Max. As I steadied myself, the whiskey bottle fell down, and I tried to pick up the pieces but ended up cutting myself. “Hehe look Max I’m bleeding” I giggled holding up my hand. “Y/N let’s clean that up” Max said trying to hold my hand. “NO, Kelly won’t like it. I’m not a home wrecker...or maybe I am” I laughed bitterly. “Let me help you” Max pleaded. “You look at me with so much concern for the first time since we started dating” I pointed out. Max’s eyes bore into mine. I tried to walk away but ended up stepping on the glass. “Look I’m bleeding from my foot now too. At least now people can see that I’m hurt since I’ll have bandages all over me. My heart ache gets missed every time. Maybe now, they might see my hurt, for once” I said with fresh tears forming.

“Mothers are always right. I’m unlovable, always been. If only I was pretty, if only I was a model, if only I was thinner, if only I was….Kelly Piquet, then you would’ve loved me. But I’m me, I’m plain old difficult to love, Y/N that’s why I’m unlovable” I chuckled. “Let’s go to the hospital” he pleaded again. “No, I’ll take care of myself. Don’t worry about me anymore. I’ll be out of your hair before you know it. Then you can have your happy ever after with Kelly” I laughed bitterly. “Did you ever love me?” I asked. Max was quiet. “I was just a rebound wasn’t I. Tell me you really loved me even for a second” I begged. “I’m sorry.” He said.

I grabbed my phone with my other hand while bleeding on to the floor; “don’t worry. I’ll clean your place before I leave” I said looking at the trail of blood I was leaving and dialled my phone calling the only person I knew in Monaco, the only person who didn’t hate me or talk badly about me, Lewis. “Lewis, Hi....I need to go to the hospital. I’m bleeding” I giggled. “Are you drunk? How did you hurt your self? Where are you?” He asked concerned. “Yes, yes, home no wait, Max’s home” I answered. I heard him sigh. “Where Max?” He asked. “He’s here” I said looking up at Max. “Ask him to take you now?” Lewis suggested. “NO, we broke up, and ex-boyfriend’s don’t take their ex-girlfriend’s to the doctor” I explained. “What?” He asked shocked. “Please Lewis, it hurts. Can you come soon?” I asked. “I’ll be there soon” Lewis said and cut the call. I sat there and looked at Max, “The whiskey tasted sweet as always and you sobered me up so fast” I sighed looking at the mess I had made.

Lewis came to take me to the hospital; he did not speak to Max. I guess even he knew what was going on. I didn’t see Max again after that either.

[mint--yoongs]

"I'm gong to put 'being a WAG' on my CV"

Authors note: Here's a little Max Verstappen x TechCEO!Reader. Bet you didn't see that comng. Anyway, got the idea for this a few days ago, and I guess my love of Italian food made me finish this

Summary: Max's new relatioship causes a social media stir, but the new couple couldn't care less whilst in Italy.

Warnings: English isn't my first language, no use of Y/N, female reader, famous reader

Word count: 2k

You understood it, to a degree. Max had just broken off a three-year-long relationship right before summer break, and now suddenly he was spending the summer with you. Now you’re at the paddock... No wonder people thought there was some crossover.

The truth? You two met last New Year's at a party for some sporting event. You, being one of the sponsors for your country's national sports committee, were invited, and Max... well, Max was Max Verstappen. You hit it off, exchanged numbers, showed him around your company a few times, and took him to all of your favorite restaurants in NYC. But you knew he had a girlfriend; everyone knew. And he was taking care of her kid too.

That breakup was hard on him. He had stopped loving her, but he couldn't just kick a woman and her kid out of his house. Max waited for them to have a huge fight, and then they just... broke up. And to your surprise, he was in New York the next day, saying that he needed someone to talk to. Bullshit. You knew he liked you. Otherwise, he wouldn't have come all the way here 'just to talk.'

But here you were, in Italy, spending time with him before Monza. You were currently typing away on your phone, trying to make peace in the finance department. Max glanced up from his phone every so often, stealing peeks at you while grinning.

He had never quite been so into someone like you. You were smart, funny, talented, pretty, and on top of all that - you were also rich. But you were also the most challenging girl to flirt with Max had ever met.

"You look like you could use a break," he said, after watching you tap away at your work laptop for a few minutes.

"Probably. What's the point of having interns if they don't do anything?"

"Then you should consider hiring me; I'm pretty good at helping out," Max teased, looking up from his phone and sending you a cheeky smile. He loved a woman who was in power, who knew what she was doing, and he could tell you were used to being the boss. "Come on, take a break. You know you deserve it," Max encouraged, resting his hand on top of yours to stop you from working some more.

"I guess I could eat…" You say, closing your laptop. "I saw on Google Maps that there’s a nice pizza place down the road. We can go if you’re hungry.”

Max smiled and nodded. “Yes, I’m starving; let’s go,” he said, reaching for the car keys.

“No, it’s okay, let’s walk,” you stop him. He turned towards you, slightly confused. Usually, women would give anything to drive around with Max Verstappen. Maybe that’s just what makes you special.

The two of you walked out of the hotel, your bodyguard Lenny standing outside the door. The tall, muscular man just nodded as the two of you entered the elevator. Max found it funny that you preferred Lenny guard your stuff more than you. Especially the laptop. He sometimes wondered what you kept in there...

“Is Pierre gonna be at the race?” you asked as you exited the building, breaking the silence.

Max’s head snapped towards you, and he raised his brow. “Uh, yes, of course he is… Why?”

“Because I want to see Kika.”

“Oh, so she’s your secret F1 crush, eh?” Max said, relaxing.

You laughed. “Pierre is a solid seven with a better haircut. Kika is a twelve on a bad day.”

As you got to the bigger streets, you started to understand why Max drove everywhere. Unlike you, who were a chiller and niche celebrity, despite being incredibly rich, Max was a real superstar. Your short walk to the pizza shop became a fan meet and greet, with people coming up to you every three seconds and asking for photos.

“Is this your girlfriend?” one of the people asking for a picture asked. As you finished taking the photo, you noticed Max’s slightly flustered face as he heard the question. He stumbled, but you answered with a simple “Yeah.”

As you arrived at the restaurant, you noticed that Max was staring at you. He seemed… surprised. You laughed at his facial expression. The sound of your laugh calmed him instantly, his heartbeat beginning to return to normal. Max cursed himself in his head; he was better than this. He chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Is it something I said?"

Max ran a hand through his hair, feeling his cheeks heating up slightly. "No, no... Not really," he reassured you, trying to sound casual. "I was just... thinking."

"Okay, well I'm thinking about the food. I think a Vesuvius sounds great right now."

Max chuckled and quickly glanced down at the menu to hide his embarrassment. "Vesuvius? What the hell is a Vesuvius?" he asked, though his eyes scanned down the menu, searching for it.

"It's a type of pizza," you teased. "It's been like three minutes; have you not even skimmed the menu?"

Max fidgeted under your gaze, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks again. "What?" he asked with a nervous chuckle. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You tell me. Why are you staring?" Max shook his head, glancing up at you questioningly. He had no idea what you were thinking about. "No... What are you thinking about?" he asked, his curiosity getting the best of him.

"There are pots from 4000 years ago found in ancient Egypt that are made out of an incredibly difficult to manage material and are cut to such perfection that they balance on their round bottom."

Max's eyebrows shot up in surprise. He was expecting something totally different. Something that had at least a little bit to do with him. He chuckled, still somewhat surprised as he studied your face. "Where did that come from?" he asked incredulously.

"The Egyptians. They were like, cooking pots and stuff. Royal cooking pots probably, but still," you teased.

Max chuckled again, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're thinking about cooking pots, and here I am, just trying to figure out what I did to make you say that we're together so casually."

"What do you mean? Are we not together?"

"Well, of course we're together," Max said, his voice taking on a more serious tone now. He glanced around the restaurant briefly, making sure no one was listening in on their conversation. "I just... I didn't expect you to say it so casually," he said, his eyes meeting yours again.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't know we were keeping it a secret. I mean, I was at the paddock and all last time, and I took days off work to come to this race—"

Max shook his head, realizing you completely misunderstood what he was saying. "No, no, it's not that... I just..." he began, struggling to find the right words. He took a deep breath, his fingers fidgeting in his lap. "It's just... you're so casual about it... and I'm... a bit too flustered for my own good," he admitted, a tinge of embarrassment in his voice.

You softened up a bit. "Oh, okay, I get it. It was just a bit too shocking for you... Yeah, sorry."

Max felt his heartbeat a little faster when you softened, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Yeah, it was a bit... unexpected for me," he chuckled, feeling somewhat silly for being so flustered. "But it's fine, honestly."

"Do you think my stomach is gonna have space for gelato later? There's a really good gelateria; I can see it from the window... They make the ones with the macarons..."

Max chuckled, loving how you were so excited about the gelato. "Well, based on the amount of pizza you usually eat," he teased, a smirk on his face. "I'd say you're probably fine."

"No, they put the macarons on the gelato."

"On the gelato?" Max repeated, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

"I've never heard of such a thing," he said, leaning forward to get a better look out the window at the gelateria you were talking about. "Well, in that case," he said with a grin, "we're definitely going there for dessert."

After eating so much that your belts barely held, you came back to the hotel, Lenny greeting you at the door as usual. Max's stomach was stuffed to the brim, but he was in such a good mood from the good food and even better company, he didn't even care. He walked back into the hotel together with you, his hand still holding yours. Lenny greeted the two of you as usual, but Max couldn't help but notice the way Lenny looked at you, like he was analyzing you.

"All good, Len. You go to your room for the night," you said to Lenny. He nodded, smiled at the both of you, and then went off. Max watched as Lenny walked off, then turned to you, a small frown on his face.

"He was looking at you funny," he said, a protective edge to his voice.

"He thinks it's funny. That I'm dating a Formula 1 driver."

"What's so funny about that?" he protested, his grip on your hand tightening ever so slightly. "He just... I don't know, he's a big fan of yours I don't think he's processed it yet". Max's frown relaxed as you explained it, his ego immediately soothed a bit. Of course he was a big fan of his, who wasn't?

"Oh, so he's a big fan?" he teased, a hint of pride and cockiness in his voice.

You take your shoes off and lay on the bed, your stomach bloated from all the good food "Yeah. Talk to him a bit, I think it'll make him happy" You let out groan as you move "I hate you Italy. You has so much good food... I love it though"

Max chuckled, watching as you dramatically threw yourself onto the bed, your stomach protesting the amount of food you just had. "You're such a drama queen sometimes," he teased, grinning as he took off his shoes as well and joined you on the bed. He lays down beside you, running a hand over your bloated stomach. "You'll be fine," he said, though there was a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Oh, you know what I saw on TikTok?"

Max raised an eyebrow in curiosity, his hand now resting on your stomach. He didn't typically pay too much attention to TikTok, but he was more than happy to listen to you.

"What did you see?" he asked, turning his head to look at you.

"Well first of all, I'm a WAG now. Thank you for that, I will be putting that on my CV. But second, they liked that I was wearing Red Bull merch. I thought they wouldn't like it, but they did"

Max chuckled as you spoke, amused by how casually you mentioned being a WAG, and how seriously you were taking the fact that you were wearing Red Bull merchandise. "Well, of course they liked it," he said with a smirk. "You were wearing the merch of the best team out there."

He gave you a smug look, his hand moving up and tracing a lazy pattern on your stomach. "Not to mention the merch of the best driver out there."

[mint--yoongs]

Rained Out

Toto Wolff x pregnant!Reader

Summary: a series of unfortunate events pushes Toto’s protective side to the surface

Based on this request

The rain drums steadily against the pavement, creating a shimmering curtain that obscures the bustling Canadian Grand Prix paddock from view. You stand just outside the entrance, one hand resting protectively on your swollen belly, the other clutching your useless paddock pass. The security guard eyes you sympathetically but remains firm.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I can’t let you in if your pass isn’t scanning,” he says, his voice barely audible over the downpour.

You bite your lip, frustration and discomfort warring within you. “Please, I’m Toto Wolff’s wife. I’m sure this is just a technical glitch. If you could just call him-”

The guard shakes his head. “I’ve already radioed in. Mr. Wolff is in a meeting and can’t be disturbed. I’m truly sorry, but rules are rules. You’ll have to wait until we can verify your identity.”

A shiver runs through you as the wind picks up, sending icy droplets cascading down your neck. Your thin jacket, hastily thrown on before leaving the hotel, offers little protection against the elements. You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to shield your unborn child from the chill.

Time crawls by at an agonizing pace. Other team members and officials hurry past, sparing curious glances at the very pregnant woman standing forlornly in the rain. You try Toto’s phone again, willing it to ring.

Finally, after what feels like hours but is likely only thirty minutes, a familiar voice cuts through the monotonous patter of rain.

“Schatz! Oh mein Gott, what are you doing out here?”

Toto appears, his tall frame moving with surprising speed. His eyes are wide with concern as he takes in your bedraggled state.

“The pass ... it wouldn’t scan,” you manage through chattering teeth. “They couldn’t reach you.”

Toto’s face darkens as he turns to the security guard. “How could you leave my pregnant wife standing in this weather? Do you have any idea-”

You place a gentle hand on his arm. “Toto, don’t. He was just doing his job.”

The anger in Toto’s eyes softens as he looks at you, replaced by guilt and worry. He shrugs off his team jacket and wraps it around your shoulders, ushering you quickly through the now-open gate.

“Come, let’s get you inside and dry,” he murmurs, his arm protectively around your waist.

As you enter the relative warmth of the Mercedes garage, the bustle of pre-race preparations momentarily halts. All eyes turn to you and Toto, taking in your drenched appearance.

“Somebody get some towels!” Toto barks, his accent thickening with stress. “And find some dry clothes!”

You lean into him, grateful for his solid presence. “I’m okay, really,” you assure him, though your voice wavers slightly. “Just a bit damp.”

Toto’s eyebrows shoot up. “A bit damp? Liebling, you look like you’ve been swimming in your clothes.”

Despite your discomfort, you can’t help but laugh. “Well, I always did want to try synchronized swimming. Though I imagined a pool, not a parking lot.”

Toto’s lips twitch, a reluctant smile breaking through his worry. “Your sense of humor remains intact, I see.”

A team member approaches with a stack of fluffy towels and what appears to be team-issued sweats. Toto takes them with a nod of thanks.

“Can you manage changing by yourself?” He asks quietly. “Or do you need help?”

You consider for a moment. While you’d normally insist on independence, your sodden clothes are clinging uncomfortably, and your fingers feel numb from the cold.

“I ... might need a hand,” you admit sheepishly.

Toto nods, guiding you towards a more private corner of the garage. He helps you peel off the wet layers, his touch gentle and reverent as it skims over your rounded belly.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs as he helps you into the dry clothes. “I should have made sure your pass was working properly. I should have answered my phone.”

You cup his face in your hands, forcing him to meet your eyes. “Hey, none of that. It was just a silly mix-up. No harm done.”

Toto’s brow furrows. “No harm? You were standing in the freezing rain for God knows how long! You could get sick, or the baby-”

“The baby is fine,” you interrupt, placing his large hand on your stomach. As if on cue, there’s a strong kick against his palm. “See? Still doing somersaults in there.”

Some of the tension leaves Toto’s shoulders, but concern still lingers in his eyes. “Still, I want Dr. Müller to check you over, just to be safe.”

You nod, knowing arguing would be pointless. “Alright, if it will make you feel better. But first ...” You glance meaningfully at the bustling garage around you. “Don’t you have a race to prepare for?”

Toto hesitates, clearly torn between his professional duties and his desire to fuss over you. You give him a gentle push.

“Go on. I promise I’ll sit quietly and drink something warm until the doctor arrives.”

He searches your face for a moment, then nods. “Alright. But you call me immediately if you feel even slightly unwell, verstanden?”

“Verstanden,” you echo with a smile. “Now go be the big, scary team principal everyone expects.”

Toto chuckles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I love you, you know that?”

“I had an inkling,” you tease. “Now scoot!”

As Toto reluctantly returns to his duties, you settle into a chair, gratefully accepting a steaming mug of tea from a hovering team member. The garage slowly returns to its normal frenetic pace, though you notice several concerned glances thrown your way.

You’re halfway through your tea when a familiar face appears at your side. Lewis crouches down, his expression a mix of worry and amusement.

“I hear you tried to stage your own wet race out there,” he says with a grin.

You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “What can I say? I was feeling left out of all the excitement.”

Lewis chuckles, then his face grows more serious. “You alright though? For real?”

You nod, touched by his concern. “I’m fine, truly. Just a bit waterlogged. Though I think Toto might spontaneously combust from worry.”

As if summoned by his name, Toto appears behind Lewis. “Yes, Dr. Müller, thank you for coming on such short notice. She’s right here.”

You shoot Lewis an exasperated look that clearly says ‘see what I mean?’ He responds with a sympathetic pat on your shoulder before rising.

“I’ll leave you to it,” he says. “Try not to give the old man a heart attack before the race, yeah?”

Toto scowls playfully at Lewis’ retreating back. “I heard that!”

As Dr. Müller begins her examination, Toto hovers anxiously nearby, his eyes darting between you and the various race preparations happening around the garage.

“Toto,” you call softly. “I can practically hear you thinking from here. What’s wrong?”

He runs a hand through his hair, a telltale sign of stress. “I just ... I can’t stop thinking about you standing out there in the rain. What if something had happened? What if-”

“But nothing did happen,” you interrupt gently. “I’m fine, the baby’s fine. It was just a bit of rain.”

Toto shakes his head. “It’s not just that. I should have been there. I should have made sure you were taken care of. What kind of husband, what kind of father am I going to be if I can’t even-”

“Stop right there,” you say firmly. “You are going to be an amazing father, Toto Wolff. You already are. Do you know how I know?”

He looks at you questioningly.

“Because you care this much,” you explain. “Because even in the middle of one of the biggest race weekends of the year, your first thought is for me and our baby. That’s what matters, not some silly mishap with a security pass.”

Toto’s eyes soften, and he moves to kneel beside you, taking your hand in his. “How did I get so lucky?” He murmurs.

You smile, squeezing his hand. “I ask myself the same thing every day.”

Dr. Müller clears her throat, reminding you both of her presence. “Well, I’m happy to report that both mother and baby are perfectly healthy. No signs of distress or illness from the exposure to the cold.”

The relief on Toto’s face is palpable. “Thank you, Doctor. That’s wonderful news.”

As Dr. Müller packs up her equipment, you turn to Toto with a mischievous glint in your eye. “So, now that we’ve established that I’m not about to melt from a little rain, what do you say we focus on winning this race?”

Toto laughs, the remaining tension finally leaving his body. “Always keeping me on track, aren’t you?”

“Someone has to,” you tease. “Now, go lead your team to victory. Your very pregnant, very proud wife will be cheering you on from right here.”

Toto leans in, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. “I love you,” he murmurs. “Both of you.”

As he straightens up, resuming his role as the formidable Mercedes team principal, you can’t help but smile. Come rain or shine, paddock pass or no paddock pass, you know that you and Toto can weather any storm together.

[mint--yoongs]

Iris Flowers

Ollie Bearman x fem!reader

From this request

Summary: You and Ollie had been dating since secondary school and everyone was envious of your perfect relationship. But not everything was as perfect as it seemed.You had a terminal illness, and even though Ollie was always with you, your body couldn't take it anymore. On your birthday, a year after you died, Ollie came to visit you.

WARNINGS:terminal illness,very angst, death,cemetery,not edited writing

A/n: I literally cried while writing,I hope you will like it

You and Ollie have been dating since secondary school. Everyone around you was talking about the perfect harmony and bond between you.Everyone wanted that "fabulous" relationship. Of course you weren't that happy behind the scenes.Since childhood you had a heart condition that got worse as you got older

You knew this disease had fatal consequences, Ollie knew too, but he was always trying to support you.He was trying not to let you quit, doing everything he could to discourage you if you tried to refuse a treatment.Of course, it was very difficult, especially from a young age, it was even more difficult to fight them.

And you were tired, in your heart and in your body, your pure heart that couldn't take any more stopped beating one day.It was so hard for Ollie to digest your death, not to mention getting used to it, the shock he felt when he got the news, his heart stopped when you died.Everything started to feel very difficult, it was very difficult to live and breathe for him

Of course, as the days progressed, Ollie had to move on with his life, and you'd want that too.But he never forgot you you were his soul mate you were his everything.For a while he was just devoted to his work and people around him were worried about him but it was all he could do to stop thinking about you.

But there was a special reason that Ollie was standing by the grave with iris flowers in his hand that day. It's been a year since you've been gone and today is your birthday.Ollie knew how much you loved Iris flowers, he left them on your grave and stared at the sky for a while to keep from crying."Happy birthday darling, I am here,I brought you your favorite flower, just like these flowers, I wanted to give you some comforting news."

Ollie tells you what he's been up to lately, he bluntly talked about how hard it was to get over you, he said he was trying to keep his promises to you.Tears filled his eyes as he spoke, and he was struggling not to cry.He missed you so much and it made his heart hurt.

"I don't want to lie to you Y/N, I feel like a piece of my soul has died.I tried, I really tried, but no matter how much I tried, it always seemed to make things worse I give myself to work but I know I worry people around me but it doesn't work without you" he sniffed "I wish you were here".

Then he thought of what you talked about before you died "Remember when you asked me to date someone else to replace you? I think I'm going to be single for my whole life"he chuckled to himself "There's not single soul that will ever replace you. I hope you know that, wherever you are"

"My beautiful angel thank you for...for all these beautiful years. I just wish I had more time to spend with you. Sorry I always far because of racing. I'm so.... sorry". He couldn't hold back any longer and started crying now he needed your hug more than ever.Then he felt a hand on his arm and looked over to see an old lady smiling slightly and handing him a napkin.

The old woman looked at the grave as Ollie thanked her and wiped his eyes."You seemed to love her so much. May I know who is she?"A soft smile formed on Ollie's face and he looked at your grave."I really do, she's my beloved" The old woman looked sadly at Ollie. "Sorry, it must be very hard for you" Ollie glanced briefly at the woman, then back at the grave. "It is. She was everything to me. I still feel like I'm just waiting for her to come back"

The woman rubbed Ollie's arm and slowly walked away. A white butterfly landed on your tombstone, causing Ollie to smile.He knew your soul was with him somewhere around here."My beautiful darling, every time I can come to you, no matter how hard it is, I will bring you these flowers. My sweet paradise, please don't suffer any more where you go, or I will never forgive myself for leaving you alone." he put his hand on the ground in your grave "I love you darling happy birthday again, i will come again soon" before walking away he took one last look at your grave and remembered you as you were holding the iris flowers in your hand because you always wanted to be remembered like that...

[mint--yoongs]

Crazy Cravings

Max Verstappen x wife!Reader

Summary: pregnancy cravings can make you (and your husband) do crazy things … neither of you particularly minds

Warnings: 18+ content and pregnancy

You sit in the Red Bull Racing garage, feeling the warm Spanish sun on your face through the open door. The roar of engines and whirring of power tools surrounds you as the mechanics prepare for the race.

Your eyes are drawn to the iconic blue and silver cans scattered around the garage. Those tantalizing cans of Red Bull that everyone else seems to be drinking so casually.

Everyone except you and Max, that is.

You rub your rounded belly, feeling your precious cargo kick and squirm inside you. At six months pregnant, your cravings have been … intense, to say the least. But none more powerful than your longing for the crisp, fizzy taste of Red Bull.

The caffeine is off limits, of course. You would never dream of jeopardizing your baby’s health. But oh, how you crave that sweet, energizing flavor that used to be such a routine part of your life.

Max emerges from the back room, his bright grey eyes instantly finding you. He strides over, that effortless confidence and raw athleticism making your heart flutter, even after all these years. His gaze drifts to the Red Bull can in a mechanic’s hand and a grimace crosses his face.

“Liefje, are you alright?” He murmurs, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “I know how much those are torturing you lately.”

You force a smile, not wanting him to worry. “I’m fine, Maxie. Just … ignoring the siren call of carbonated temptation.”

His thumb strokes your cheek as he studies you, clearly not convinced. Max has been so incredibly supportive during this pregnancy, abstaining from Red Bull himself in solidarity. Cutting out his biggest vice, just so you don’t have to be tormented by the sight and scent of it everywhere.

“We should get you out of here,” he says, looping an arm around your waist to help leverage your bulk out of the chair. “The smells can’t be helping those crazy cravings.”

You open your mouth to protest, not wanting to pull him away from his work, but a fresh wave of dizzying desire hits you as a mechanic cracks open another can. The fizzing hiss and unmistakable scent make your mouth water uncontrollably.

“Max ...” you whisper, feeling your throat tighten with barely restrained craving and hormonal tears prickling your eyes.

He follows your yearning gaze to the Red Bull can and understanding dawns. “Oh, liefje ...” Scooping you into his arms, he strides from the garage, shooting an apologetic look at his crew.

Once outside in the fresh air, you bury your face against Max’s shoulder, inhaling his familiar, comforting cologne as he carries you to the motorhome. He eases you onto the couch, brushing kisses along your forehead and temple.

“I’m so sorry, schatje,” he murmurs, anguish lining his handsome features. “I hate seeing you suffer like this. If there was any way I could make the cravings stop ...”

You catch his hand, lacing your fingers through his calloused ones. “Max, you know I would never actually ask you to give up Red Bull, right?”

He shakes his head fiercely. “Not being able to have it for nine months is nothing compared to your sacrifice, carrying our baby. I don’t deserve you.”

Pulling him down beside you, you cup the chiseled line of his jaw, making him meet your gaze. “I happen to think you deserve the very best, Mr. Verstappen. And right now, the very best for both of us would be ...” Your voice cracks with fresh longing. “A damn Red Bull.”

Max’s eyes blaze with sudden determination, that iron willpower that has made him a champion coming to life. “Then that’s what I’ll get you. If those tossers at Red Bull Company won’t make a safe, caffeine-free version for pregnant women, I’ll personally make them regret it.”

You laugh shakily. “Max, you can’t just bully a corporation into creating a new product line for one person’s weird craving!”

“You’re not just one person,” he growls, tangling his fingers in your hair and bringing his forehead to rest against yours. “You’re my everything. And our baby deserves for its mother to be happy and have her cravings satisfied.”

Pressing a fierce kiss to your lips, he adds, “I’m calling them right now. And then straight to the CEO, if I have to. I’ll get you that Red Bull if it’s the last thing I do.”

True to his word, the indomitable Max Verstappen spends the next several days working every possible connection and calling in every favor. You catch bits of conversations, his clipped tones making it clear just how serious he is about this bizarre quest.

“No, I don’t care if it’s not ‘cost-effective’. This is for my very pregnant wife ...”

“She’s risking her health to grow an entire person! The least your company can do is make a freaking caffeine-free energy drink ...”

The crew quickly learns not to open any Red Bull around you, lest they face the wrath of an overprotective Max. Which is slightly embarrassing … but also incredibly sweet.

Your hormones most definitely approve.

Finally, there’s a break in the stalemate. Helmut Marko himself shows up at the motor home, those bushy salt-and-pepper eyebrows furrowed.

“Max, this is ridiculous. They will not reconfigure an entire product line just because Y/N is having a little … craving.”

You brace yourself for the explosion, but Max just levels Helmut with that intense stare. “If you could experience these cravings yourself, you would be singing a different tune. Y/N is sacrificing everything to have our baby. The least Red Bull can do is give her a safe option to have the flavor she misses so much.”

Helmut’s expression softens slightly at the obvious devotion in Max’s voice. “You know that corporate will never go for it. Not for just one person ...”

“Then make it for all the other pregnant women dealing with the same issues,” Max returns, unruffled. “Or is a company that plasters ‘Gives You Wings’ on every can really too cowardly to follow through on empowering people?”

You suck in a shocked breath at his daring play. But the flicker of anger and resigned capitulation in Helmut’s eyes shows that it worked.

“Fine, you little shit,” the older man growls. “I’ll talk to product development. But I’m not making any promises!”

Except somehow … Max’s sheer bullheaded tenacity eventually batters through all the corporate resistance and red tape. Three weeks later, an unmistakable bright blue can appears on the counter, the iconic Red Bull logo stamped across it.

“What’s this?” You ask in confusion.

Max slides an arm around your waist, beaming proudly. “Open it and see.”

You crack the seal, sniffing cautiously … and almost melt at the nostalgic, beloved scent of Red Bull. But just as you start to panic about caffeine, you notice the slightly different flavor.

“Max, is this ...”

He nods, grinning. “Zero caffeine but all the taste you’ve been craving. No more tears over those damn energy drink cans, okay?”

Throwing your arms around him, you yank his head down to capture his mouth in a grateful kiss. “Have I mentioned lately how incredible you are?”

“Once or twice,” he jokes, then sobers, cupping your belly. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make you and our baby happy.”

“You’re giving me everything I ever wanted and more.” You take a long pull of the perfectly flavored liquid, sighing in blissful satisfaction. “We hit the jackpot with you, Max Verstappen.”

He kisses you again, reveling in your obvious enjoyment. “The only jackpot I need is right here.”

***

Your baby bump has popped out to truly impressive proportions now at eight months along. What started as an innocent craving for Red Bull has escalated into an all-out physiological war.

Nothing seems to satisfy you for long — you’re a walking bundle of hormones and insatiable desires.

From the plush solitude of the Red Bull hospitality suite, you try not to gaze wistfully toward the Ferrari encampment. But you can’t resist fixating on the tantalizing cones of rich gelato constantly streaming from their hospitality tent.

Watching a couple of Ferrari mechanics stroll by, licking at scoops of pistachio and stracciatella, is enough to kickstart a powerful new yearning. Your mouth waters shamelessly as they pass, the creamy dessert leaving you weak in the knees. Before you can overthink it, you’re shuffling toward the entrance, one hand cradling your belly.

“Scusi,” you call out hesitantly as you peek inside. “Mi dispiace … is it possible to get some gelato?”

You half expect to be waved away — it’s well known that the Ferrari team is notoriously insular and protective of their spoils. But the cheerful greeting you receive is instantaneous and overwhelming.

“Madonna mia! Look at this beautiful piccina!”

Suddenly you’re engulfed by a whirlwind of chattering Italian voices, greeted by smiling faces from the team of elderly signoras who comprise the Ferrari hospitality staff. Weathered hands pat your belly and cheeks, clucking sympathetically at your swollen state.

“You poor bambina, absolutely enorme! Of course we’ll get you some gelato to refresh you. And biscotti too! You need to keep up your energy, si?”

You’re ushered toward a plush sofa, various grandmotherly types fussing over you like you’re the most delicate, precious thing. It’s … surprisingly wonderful. They clearly adore babies and pregnant women. You get the sense that indulging a mother-to-be is hardwired into their very beings.

A tray of gelato cups appears, the rainbow of flavors almost dazzling in their variety — chocolate, pistachio, prickly pear, lemon, stracciatella. Before you can reach for one, it’s plucked from your grasp.

“No no no! Leave it to Nonna Maria.” A stout signora with a green paisley dress and frosted silver curls shakes her head sternly. “I’ll start you with the lemon to whet your appetite. Then a nice creamy stracciatella as a proper treat for the bambino.”

The tangy flavor of the lemon gelato hits your craving exquisitely. As soon as you’ve polished off that cup, Nonna Maria presents another brimming with the creamy chocolate chip perfection of stracciatella. You moan in appreciation, unbothered by the chorus of approving noises from your doting new entourage.

Before you know it, you’ve been plied with cups of hazelnut, strawberry, and caramel flavors as well. These hospitable Italian ladies simply won’t be deterred from pampering a future mamma. As you scrape the last smears of gelato from a ramekin, a new grandmother settles on the sofa beside you.

“Now ... tell Nonna Gina what this little maschietto or bambina has been craving, eh?” She pats your belly affectionately. “We have chefs who can whip up anything your heart desires!”

Is it a pregnancy thing, this sudden wave of tears that blurs your vision? Or just being so insanely touched by the kindness and maternal care of these lovely strangers? You blink rapidly, swallowing hard.

“Honestly … gelato has been my biggest craving these past couple days. I don’t know if I can eat another bite.”

A chorus of disapproving gasps and tuts rises from the assembled grandmothers. “Bah! This pregnancy has ruined your appetite, piccina,” one crows, waving a hand dismissively. “We’ll soon get it back to rights, don’t you worry.”

For the next hour, you’re lavished with attention, fussed over and coddled like the most precious jewel. Cold drinks and chilled towels appear to keep you comfortable as the nonnas take turns sitting with you, petting your belly and swapping outrageous birth stories.

Their colorful Italian voices swell and ebb as they bicker over whose recipe for pasta al ragu is most authentic, who has the most grandchildren, and whose first-born grandson is most handsome.

It’s chaos and noise and overwhelming affection … and you’ve never felt so utterly content.

As the afternoon light slants golden through the awning, a familiar figure appears in the entrance, haloed by the fiery rays.

“Liefje? I’ve been looking everywhere ...” Max’s disbelieving gaze sweeps over the scene in front of him — you, surrounded by a veritable coven of grandmotherly Italians who seem entirely absorbed with you. “What in the world ...”

A chubby signora with a bright orange shawl wrapped around her ample form hops up, beaming widely. “Ahh! We have been absolutely spoiling your beautiful wife, of course. Did you know she had a craving for gelato? Well, no problem for us — we have taken her like one of our own bambinas!”

The others cluck and murmur in outraged agreement at his shocked expression.

“We absolutely will not let a piccina in such a state go hungry or uncomfortable! Now you sit down so we can get you a plate of some proper food too!”

Max gapes at you, utterly nonplussed as you grin back at him with unabashed glee, utterly stuffed with Italian desserts and reveling in the indulgent babying. You pat the space beside you invitingly.

“You’ve got to try Nonna Gina’s tiramisu, Maxie. It’ll knock your socks off.”

He settles beside you, slinging an arm around your shoulders and still looking rather dazed. But the instant the first warm smile and pat lands on his arm or knee, Max’s expression melts. This team of fussing Italian grandmothers has clearly adopted you both as their own.

Nonna Maria reappears, shoving a plate stacked with crispy arancini, indulgent risotto alla Milanese, and a creamy slice of tiramisu into your husband’s hands. “Eat up! You need to keep your strength up too, caring for this sweet cosa bella.” She plants bristly kisses on both your cheeks before scurrying off again.

Max watches her go, then turns to you with a bemused chuckle, squeezing you close. “Well, schatje. I have to hand it to you — at least your pregnancy cravings bring you to some … interesting places.”

You hum in agreement, perfectly content as you snuggle against his side. “Can you really think of a better place for me to nest?” You grin as another nonna appears to pat his cheek, welcoming him into the chaotic fold. “I think I may have just found my second family.”

He tilts your chin up, eyes sparkling with warmth. “Anything that makes you happy and keeps our baby healthy.”

As he kisses you tenderly, surrounded by clucking encouragement and rapturous croons of “bello, bellisimo” from your new Italian grandmothers, you know you’ve never felt so blissfully cherished.

You and Max make your way slowly back to the Red Bull motorhome, stuffed to the gills with gelato and trailed by a gaggle of besotted well-wishers calling out farewells and advice.

“I still can’t believe you managed to befriend the entirety of Ferrari hospitality,” Max laughs, helping ease you onto the couch in his driver’s room. He nudges your belly playfully. “This little one is shaping up to be quite the international charmer!”

“Says the man who single-handedly compelled Red Bull to create an entirely new product line,” you point out, patting your swollen middle contentedly. “I have a feeling this baby is going to be the most spoiled child on earth.”

Max settled beside you, gathering you close with a tender smile. “Can you blame all our people for wanting to give the world to you two?” His thumb traced your jawline reverently. “You’re carrying a little miracle, liefje.”

Your breath catches, as it so often did when he looks at you like that. Like you’re his entire universe. With so much pure adoration and love shining in those grey eyes.

“Our miracle,” you correct softly, cradling his calloused hand over your belly. “I couldn’t have done it without you. Not just supporting me … but giving me everything I could ever dream of.”

He opens his mouth like he wanted to protest, but you press on, needing him to understand how treasured he makes you feel.

“You don’t stop until I’m happy. Even when I get these raging, random cravings that probably seem crazy, you move heaven and earth to give me whatever I need. Most people would never ...”

“Neither of us is most people,” Max interrupts fiercely. He presses a searing kiss to your lips, then the swell of your abdomen. “You and our little one are my entire world. I’ll spend every day showing you how much I love you both, how grateful I am to have you in my life.”

Hormones raging, you pull his mouth back to yours, savoring the taste and feel of him surrounding you. When you finally part, you rest your forehead against his.

“In that case, you better rest up for tonight,” you tease. “I have a feeling that someone’s going to get a craving for sardines and waffles right around midnight.”

***

At nine months pregnant, you feel like a blissfully beached whale.

Your belly protrudes so massively that you can barely see your feet anymore. Simple tasks like tying your shoes or rolling over in bed have become awkward geometric obstacles. Max has to help you up from every chair or couch, his strong arms levering your frame into a vertical position.

Lingering in the paddock is no longer an option either. You’ve been gently but firmly ordered back home to Monaco to prepare for the baby’s arrival.

Thank goodness your nesting instincts are going full tilt — otherwise you might go stir crazy waiting for this little one to make their grand debut. You’ve rearranged and re-organized the nursery a dozen times, washed and rewashed all the tiny onesies and miniature accessories, and baked enough lactation cookies to feed an army of nursing mothers.

Really, there’s only one craving occupying your mind now …

The thump of shoes in the hall makes you look up eagerly. Max appears in the doorway of the sunlit nursery, loose waves of brown hair framing his face. The plain white tee stretches enticingly across his chest and shoulders, making your mouth water for an entirely different reason than food.

“Hey schatje,” he greets, eyes crinkling at the corners as he takes in your flushed cheeks. A knowing smirk tugs at one side of his mouth. “Were you just ... thinking about me?”

You shake your head adamantly, wincing as the motion makes your whole body ache in protest. “Maybe just a little. This particular craving is getting out of control.”

Crossing to you in two strides, Max cups your jaw and brings your lips crashing together in a searing kiss. His tongue sweeps demanding and possessive into your mouth, making you whimper faintly. That intoxicating masculine scent of fresh sweat, motor oil, and sandalwood surrounds you in an alluring cloud.

After all these years, just the taste and smell of your husband is enough to drench you in molten wanting. Baby or no baby, Max Verstappen is still the sexiest goddamn thing on two legs.

“Mmm, I know exactly what you need,” he rumbles against your neck, nipping a tingling path along your sensitive skin. “Luckily for you, I’ve got a free schedule all afternoon to help take care of this craving ...”

He scoops you into his arms effortlessly, cradling your heavy weight against his chest to carry you to the bedroom. You twine your arms shamelessly around his neck, luxuriating in the hard strength of his body against yours.

“Aren’t you worried about ... squashing the baby?”

“Not at all,” he deposits you carefully on the bed. Those bright grey eyes darken with blazing lust. “I’m going to take such good care of you and our little one.”

His hands and mouth seem to be everywhere at once — caressing, nibbling, and stroking every sensitive inch he can lavish adoring attention on. You keen softly when he dips his tongue into your navel, rubbing reverent circles over the tight swell of your belly.

“You’re so gorgeous like this,” Max murmurs, lips brushing the crease where your torso and bump meet. “So ripe and round and radiant with our child. My beautiful, strong girl ...”

All you can do is lie there gasping, overwhelmed in the best possible way. He strips you methodically, leaving a trail of scorching, openmouthed kisses over every newly exposed inch.

“My sexy little pregnant wife,” he husks, tongue dragging up the slick crease at the apex of your thighs. “Can’t resist this craving can you, liefje?”

His fingers plunge inside you, curling expertly as his mouth closes over your throbbing bud. You throw your head back shamelessly, mindless with pleasure as Max devours you.

So good, so unbearably good …

He ravishes you thoroughly, sending gushing waves of release crashing through your body over and over again until you’re gasping and quivering. Atoms of blissful satisfaction hum in your bloodstream as you float back into sweet oblivion.

An insistent nudge against your belly slowly rouses you. Max looms over you, hair deliciously rumpled and eyes glittering wickedly. “Did I satisfy that craving sufficiently? Or should I keep going?”

Your mouth curves in a greedy smile, hands gliding over his flexing shoulders and chest. “Again, please ...”

It had long since become a running gag around the paddock and team — before you were advised to stop flying. When you couldn’t be located, someone would joke that you must be off ravaging your utterly besotten husband yet again.

Max took the ribbing with surprising grace, grinning unrepentantly whenever his shirt collar revealed another blossom of lovebites discoloring the skin of his throat.

You really didn’t care about the teasing. You’re indulging an entirely healthy and normal craving — just a wife thoroughly appreciating her man.

“Can you believe people used to call this a punishment?” You giggle breathlessly one afternoon.

Max nips a stinging path along the soft skin of your inner thighs, tracing tantalizingly close to your heated center. He laves his tongue soothingly over the reddened marks, leering up at you from between your parted legs.

“Let them call it whatever they want. I’m just taking advantage of your hormones making you insatiable for me.”

“Mmm, well I can’t seem to resist your obscenely perfect body either,” you admit with a lazy stretch. “Maybe we really are being punished.”

One dark brow wings up eloquently as Max drags his eyes over you in a deliberately insolent perusal. Taking your leg in hand, he licks an achingly slow, filthy stripe up the crease where thigh meets hip.

You choke on a whimper, whole body jolting as he sucks a blossom of wet kisses into the satiny expanse of your inner thigh. Those bright grey eyes hold yours in wicked challenge as his clever tongue massages and swirls over your sensitized flesh.

“This certainly doesn’t seem like punishment to me,” he husks darkly. “Does it feel like punishment when I do this ...” His mouth moves higher. “Or this ...”

By the time he finishes torturing you into a quivering, needy wreck, you’re more than ready to beg.

“Please, Max!” You sob, bucking helplessly against the maddening sensations. “I need you, oh god I need you so bad ...”

He settles heavily over you, nuzzling your hair aside to trail searing kisses along your damp throat. “Then you shall have me. My needy wife can have whatever she craves ...”

It’s midway through one such shattering round of lovemaking that Max’s phone begins to ring shrilly. You try to disentangle, burning embarrassment tinting your cheeks, but he simply growls and clutches you tighter.

“Leave it!” He bites out, surging forward to recapture your mouth in a bruising clash of teeth and tongue between thrusts. “I’m busy ... satisfying … my wife ...”

After, as you lie tangled in a sweaty heap of satiation, you can’t resist asking with a wry smile, “Was that another craving I just demanded you satisfy?”

Max props himself up on one elbow, thumb stroking idly along your abdomen as his piercing gaze roams over your flushed, disheveled form.

“Whatever my wife needs,” he responds huskily. Those burning eyes promise infinite carnal delights to come as they caress your body. “I’ll always crave giving her everything she desires.”

He stretches beside you, a blissful smile curving his lips as you snuggle up against his side to exchange lazy kisses.

You’ve got a sneaking suspicion this is one craving that might outlast the pregnancy ...

[mint--yoongs]

prison for life - mv1

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where if anybody hurts you, Max is going to prison for life.

Pairing: max verstappen x pregnant!reader 

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: fluff, pregnancy, mentions of throwing up, cursing, kinda angsty in some places, jos verstappen

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i’ve been in such a max mood recently that is actually shocking to me, but i just needed some fluffy anything after working on smutty pieces for weeks. i got this idea in my dream and honestly i think it turned out better than i could’ve imagined!! feedback is always appreciated, and my requests are currently open if you want to check that out, i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

If you would have to choose a word to describe Max, it would be ‘overprotective’, because that’s what he is. It’s not a bad thing, per say. He isn’t overbearing or controlling at all, but he is simply overprotective. And if you thought he was overprotective when the two of you were dating or when you first got married, you have to admit that you were not, at all, prepared for his protectiveness when you told him that you were pregnant. Apart from his initial meltdown over becoming a dad, or rather becoming like his own father, Max has been pretty chill about the whole thing – with the exception being your safety, of course. The underlying problem isn’t the fact that you’re some sort of daredevil because you’re not, the problem is the fact that Max believes that everything is out to get you. 

The olives you wanted to eat for breakfast? Choking hazard.  

The candles you bought for the living room (to be purely decorative, but still)? Fire hazard.  

The pool lounger Victoria thought would be a cute addition to the pool? Drowning hazard.  

The seatbelt in his car that is surprisingly tight? Could be all three, according to Max, given the right (or wrong) circumstances.  

So, yeah, maybe he wasn’t that scared of becoming a dad, but he was surely scared of you being in danger. That’s why you agreed to stay back for the most races this year – you knew he didn’t need to worry about you or your baby’s safety on top of the stress he had to deal with during the usual racing weekend. That was until you realised how much you would miss your boyfriend after almost a month of not seeing him due to a triple header. And so, you did the thing any person with a common sense would do – flying out to see him without telling him beforehand, because what’s the fun in that?  

The sheer look of shock on his face might be the funniest thing you’ve ever seen when you meet him in his driver’s room, but of course Max doesn’t share the same sentiment as you. Because all he chooses to focus is the fact that you were on a plane – a 0.23% risk out of very 7.7 million flights each year, but still. He spends at least half an hour, just checking you over and assuring himself that you and the baby are fine; at some point he decides that you need to go to the nearest hospital to get an ultrasound just to make sure the baby is okay, but you tell him to fuck off and calm his tits down in the kindest way possible. And that’s how the two of you end up on the small couch in his driver’s room, with his arms around you as you lay between his legs, his hands splayed on the swell of your stomach as he caresses the skin through the fabric of your dress. His voice is low as he tells you about his day, mostly media duties since it is only Thursday, and how he thinks putting a cat tree in the nursery is a bad idea (that was your idea initially, but you can see how having two rumbunctious cats hang out in the nursery could cause problems). 

“I also thought about something else,” he mumbles, suddenly busying himself with the flower pattern of your dress instead of looking at you.  

You raise your brows slightly, motioning him to continue, but let out a huff when he doesn’t do so right away. “Come on,” you whine softly, “tell me what it is Maxie.”  

“I don’t want him to get into karting.” His words are soft, mumbled, and most definitely final. You know how Max can be when he puts his mind into it, and this particular topic has been a discussion in your household ever since the two of you found out that you were having a boy. “I don’t want him to go through what I went through.” 

Letting out a soft exhale, you motion Max to six next to you on the couch. “He won’t,” you assure him, voice soft as you give pleading looks at him, “you’re not your father, Max.” He gives you a look that basically begs for you to not dwell on the topic, but you continue despite the look he gives you, “And what if he wants to get into karting? Are you going to tell him no?” 

Max tries his best to ignore the knowing look you give him, knowing very well that he won’t be able to ever say ‘no’ to his son, who already has him wrapped around his finger. “I might do that, you never know.” He grumbles, hiding his face in your hair – though the soft giggles coming from you manages to put a soft smile on his face. “You’re supposed to agree with me, you know, we have to be a united front.”   

“We’ll discuss it when the baby comes, until then, I’ll be the voice of reason.” You emphasise, poking him at his bicep to convey your point. “You feel better now?” 

“Kinda,” he murmurs, leaving small kisses onto the exposed skin of your shoulder as he keeps on murmuring against your skin, “I would feel better if I knew you stayed in bed all day, relaxing.” 

With that, you choke a loud laugh, and motion him to stand up as you try to do it yourself – though, of course, he has to help with the baby bump being in the way of you doing any sort of physical activity. “You’re funny, let’s go get me ice cream.”  

The only response you get back is a confused look from your husband, his head tilted to the side as he eyes you warily. “What does that have to do with anything?” 

“Um, excuse me?” You raise an eyebrow, “Your son,” pointing to your stomach, you emphasise your words, “is craving ice cream right now.”  

Max’s eyes soften instantly, and a smile creeps across his face. He nods, taking your hand gently as he helps you up. “Well, if my son wants ice cream, then ice cream he shall have.” 

You giggle as you both make your way out of the driver’s room, Max's hand never leaving yours. The paddock is bustling with activity, but for a moment, it feels like it's just the two of you, cocooned in your little world. As you approach the nearest concession stand, Max’s protective instincts kick in once again. “Is this ice cream stand safe? How long have they been here? Do they have the proper health certifications?” 

You roll your eyes playfully. “Max, it’s ice cream, not a five-course meal. I’m sure it’s fine.” He sighs but nods, deciding to trust your judgment. After all, you did manage to fly all the way here without incident and somehow alerting him. You both get a generous serving of your favourite flavours, and as you sit down to enjoy your treat, you feel a sense of normalcy and contentment wash over you. 

Max watches you with a tender expression, his eyes filled with a mixture of love and worry. “I know I can be overprotective,” he says softly, reaching out to brush a stray hair from your face, “but it’s only because I love you so much.” 

You smile, leaning into his touch. “I know, Max. And I love you too. But sometimes, you need to trust that everything will be okay. We’ll figure things out together, just like we always do.” 

He nods, his gaze shifting to your belly. “You’re right. I guess I need to talk to my mom.”  

“Why?” You ask, tilting your head to the side in curiosity.  

“Well, she promised me she’d look after you but you’re here, so I think we need to have a talk about not keeping secrets from each other.” He mumbles, dragging a hand down his face. 

You laugh, nudging him playfully. “Oh, Maxie, who do you think helped me with my bags at the airport? Your mom is unsurprisingly a strong woman.” 

He chuckles softly, shaking his head. “I should’ve known better than to think you’d stay put for a whole month.” He sighs, but there’s a smile playing on his lips. “Alright, but next time, at least let me know you’re planning something. My heart can only take so much.” 

Max feels a lot better after tricking you with ice-cream into at least staying put withing the Red Bull hospitality for the day as he gets through his media duties. Max feels a lot better after tricking you with ice cream into at least staying put within the Red Bull hospitality for the day as he gets through his media duties. He periodically checks in, making sure you're comfortable and well-fed. Each time he sneaks a glance your way, you catch him with a knowing smile and a roll of your eyes, and he returns it with a wink. He knows that there is absolutely no reason for him to be checking on you as much as he does, because you’ll be fine in the cool hospitality suite with enough water to keep you hydrated for years, but he can’t help but worry about anything and everything going wrong. And his worries prove to be true when he sees the one person who he definitely doesn’t want around you.  

“What are you doing here?” He asks the approaching figure, “I thought you were not going to be coming to this race but the next one.”  

“Given the drop in your performance in the last few races I thought I should be here for... support.” His dad supplies, eyes finding you behind his son’s back on one of the couches in the hospitality, “And I can see the reason for why you’ve been distracted lately, what is she doing here?”  

Max scoffs, crossing his arms on his chest protectively, “She’s my wife, she is more than welcome to be here.” 

“She’s also a distraction, Max,” his father points out, “you’re going to lose your focus if you keep–” 

Since Max is faster than his father where it matters the most, he cuts him off before he can say anything further. “Leave, I don’t want you here.” 

Max’s father looks taken aback, his eyes widening momentarily before they narrow into a scowl. “Excuse me?” he says, his voice low and dangerous. 

“You heard me,” Max replies firmly, his stance unwavering. “I don’t want you here if you’re going to criticize my wife and stress me out, or worse, stress her out.” 

“You’re being irrational,” his father argues, taking a step closer. “I’m just trying to help you stay focused.” Seeing that his son is not going to back down anytime soon, he points a threatening finger towards him. “I’ll be back on race day, but you better be ready to put in a winning performance,” his father finishes, his voice laced with finality. He turns on his heel and walks away, leaving a tense silence in his wake. 

Max sighs deeply, running a hand through his hair as he watches his father disappear into the crowd. Looking back at you over his shoulder, talking to some interns from the social media team, he can’t help but feel the dread of you having to face his father – which gives him another reason to somehow stop the two of you from running into each other during the weekend.  

On Friday, Max’s luck decides to do him a favour as you tell him that you’re not feeling well enough to go to the track with him for the qualifying, and though it is true that he wants you to be with him, he also realises that this will give him one less thing to worry about. He knows how stressful it can be for you to navigate the bustling paddock and deal with the crowds, especially with the added pressure of possibly encountering his father. 

“You rest up, okay?” he says, his voice full of concern. “I'll be back as soon as I can. If you need anything, just call me.” 

You nod, giving him a reassuring smile. “I will, Max. Good luck today. We'll be cheering you on from here.” 

Max leans down to kiss your forehead gently as he mumbles into your skin, “I love you.”  

“I love you too,” you reply, your voice soft and comforting, “be careful out there, okay?” 

Max has one goal throughout qualifying, and to his team principal’s dismay, it is not being on pole. His one and only goal is to get the session done with as quickly as possible and get back to you as soon as he can. After the session ends, he barely waits for the car to come to a stop before jumping out and heading straight for the hospitality suite. His team notices his urgency but knows better than to question it once he tells them he’ll pay whatever fine the FIA will give him for missing his interviews. 

Bursting through the door, Max finds you resting comfortably on the couch, a cup of tea in your hands. The sight of you immediately calms his racing heart. “Hey,” he says softly, walking over to sit beside you. “How are you feeling?” 

You smile up at him, still in his team gear and the hat he almost never takes off, the warmth in your eyes easing his worries. “Better, now that you're here. How did it go?” 

“Starting on pole,” he replies, mostly in a mumble, taking your hand in his. “But all I could think about was getting back to both of you.” 

You squeeze his hand, your expression tender. “I'm proud of you, Max. You did great.” 

He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “Thanks. Let's just relax for the rest of the day, hm? I want to hold you to make sure you’re not getting out of this bed until tomorrow.” 

“You know, I would be happier about this proposal if it was until different circumstances,” you sigh, earning a laugh from him as he pulls you towards his chest, being careful not to spill your tea, of course. Why? Because it is a safety hazard, of course. 

As you settle back into the bed together, Max feels a sense of relief wash over him. The stress of the day melts away in your presence, and he realizes how much he needs these quiet moments with you to forget all about the outside world and focus his energy on what actually matters instead. 

The next day, feeling much better, you prepare to join Max at the track for the race. He’s still concerned but reassured by your determination to support him. As you arrive at the paddock together, Max is more attentive than ever, keeping an eye out for his father in hopes of trying to prevent the two of you running into each other. Navigating through the bustling paddock, Max keeps a protective arm around your waist, and a hand on your bump whenever the two of you stand somewhere talking to someone, guiding you through the throngs of people. His eyes constantly scan the crowd, his jaw set in a determined line. The other drivers and team members greet you warmly, and you return their smiles, feeling the anticipation that surrounds you. 

“Max, relax a bit,” you whisper, squeezing his hand as you notice the tension in his posture. 

He glances down at you, his expression softening slightly. “I just want to make sure everything’s okay.” 

“I know,” you reply, reaching up to stroke his cheek, “but we’re here to enjoy the race and support you. Try to focus on that.” 

He nods, taking a deep breath as both of you make your way to the Red Bull hospitality area. The team welcomes you with open arms, and you settle into a comfortable spot where you can watch the preparations for the race. He asks one of the interns to keep an eye on you, which he thought he was being sly whilst doing it, but you of course catch him in the corner of your eye. That’s when you realise the man walking towards him, your eyes meeting in nothing short of disdain for each other.  

You stiffen slightly, your hand tightening around Max’s hand as he turns just in time to see his father approaching, his protective instincts kicking into high gear as he lets go of your hand and decides to wrap his arm around you protectively instead. 

“Max,” Jos says, his tone neutral but carrying an underlying condescension. “We need to talk before your race begins, walk with me.” 

Max's grip tightens around you for a moment before he reluctantly loosens his hold. “What is it, Dad?” he asks, his voice steady but tinged with irritation. 

Jos's eyes flicker to you before focusing back on Max. “I wanted to discuss strategy, but I can see this isn't a good time.” 

Max's jaw clenches, his protective instincts on high alert. “If it's important, we can talk here. I’m not leaving her side.”  

Jos sighs, clearly frustrated. “Fine, if that's how you want it.” 

Max’s arm remains firmly around you as his father steps closer. “Make it quick,” Max insists, his tone leaving no room for argument. If other people were to see your eyes moving from one Verstappen to the other, they’d probably think you are watching a tennis match, though the situation in front of you is certainly more tense than that. 

Jos glances at you once more before addressing Max. “I just wanted to remind you to stay focused. Pole position is a great start, but you need to keep your head in the race.” 

Max's eyes narrow, and he lets out a scoff, “I know how to do my job, no need for reminder. Anything else?” 

Jos shakes his head, his expression a mix of disappointment and resignation. “Just don’t let distractions cost you the win.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Max hisses, taking a step towards his father as he gently pushes you behind himself. You have to put a hand against his chest to slow him down, though that doesn’t prove to be a sufficient prevention method. “I already told you; she is my wife, and he is not going anywhere so you better get that into that damaged brain of yours.” 

“Max,” you try to plead with him, “please, not before your race.”  

He gives you a look over his shoulder for a short moment before turning back towards his father. His jaw is set as he looks at the man in front of him. “I’ll only tell you this one more time. When she’s here with me, you don’t show up. If you do show up, you don’t come near her, you don’t talk to her, you don’t even look at her.” Another step taken towards his father has you tightening your hold on him, but he still manages to convey his message. “Try something like this again, and you won’t be in my life anymore let alone my son’s.” 

Jos's lips press into a thin line, his eyes darting to you briefly before settling back on Max. “Fine,” he repeats, his tone colder. “Just remember what’s at stake every time you get behind the wheel.” 

Max stands his ground, his eyes locked onto his father's, unwavering. “I know exactly what's at stake, and I don't need you reminding me. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have a race to focus on.” 

Max stands his ground, his eyes locked onto his father's, unwavering. “I know exactly what's at stake, and I don't need you reminding me. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have a race to focus on.”

It’s not the first time Max has stood up to his father, not by any means. But you can tell that this time affects him in a different way. The weight of the words exchanged and the implications for their future relationship linger in the air. You can feel the tension radiating from Max as he watches his father walk away, and it takes a moment for him to relax his posture and turn back to you. “Please tell me something that will calm me down so I don’t somehow do something that would put me to jail.”

“Okay,” you singsong, quickly positioning yourself in front of him so that you can fix him with a strict look on your face. “You are not doing something that will put you into prison, period.”

“I’m going to need a very good reason because all I want to do right now is follow him to his car and punch him.” Unfortunately for you, the way his jaw is set is a telling sign that, no, Max would actually do something like this given the circumstances.

“There is no sim racing in prison.” You try to provide, giving him a weak smile.  

Max's lips twitch into a small, reluctant smile at your words, the tension in his jaw easing slightly. “No sim racing in prison, huh? Do you honestly think that would keep me from doing something stupid?” 

“I panicked!” You exclaim, hitting him on his chest lightly as he laughs at you silently. “How are you supposed to help me raise our son,” you point to your stomach to emphasise your point, “if you’re in prison, huh?”

Max's smile grows wider, the tension in his posture finally starting to melt away. “Okay, okay, you’ve got a point,” he says, placing his hands on your shoulders and looking into your eyes. “I need to be here for both of you. But it’s so damn hard to ignore him.” 

You reach up and cup his face in your hands, your eyes soft and filled with understanding. “I know, but you’re stronger than him. And you have more important things to focus on. Like winning this race and getting me more ice cream on our way back to the hotel.” 

He takes a deep breath, nodding slowly as he lets out a soft chuckle. “You’re right. I can’t let him get to me. Not today.” 

“Exactly,” you say, giving him a reassuring smile, “I usually am.” 

Max laughs, the sound lightening the mood even more. “Yes, you usually are,” he agrees, pulling you closer for a brief kiss. “Thank you for always knowing how to calm me down.” 

“That’s what I’m here for,” you say, resting your forehead against his. “Now, go out there and show everyone what you can do. We’ll celebrate with ice cream afterward.” 

“Deal,” he replies, his eyes twinkling with affection and determination. With one last squeeze, he lets you go and turns towards his team, his focus now fully on the race ahead. “But I feel like I need to let you know that I would definitely go to prison for life for you.” 

You laugh, shaking your head. “Don’t you have a race to win, Verstappen?” 

He grins, giving you one last kiss before heading off to prepare for the race, giving you a grin over his shoulder as he starts to move away, “So, I’ll get the rest of that kiss after the race, then?” 

“Yeah, Max,” you let out a breathy laugh, your eyes not leaving his for a moment, “after the race!” 

[mint--yoongs]

Lewis being OBSESSED with how y/n looks preggrs and being over protective at the same time unable to keep his hands off and y/n being equally obsessed with him and having the only craving is the man himself 😍🔥

A/N: Honestly Lewis is the type to constantly post pictures of his girl's pregnancy

Lewis couldn't help but stare at you from down the paddock, the cold rainy weather in Canada wasn't doing anything to dampen the way you glowed. God, he was just so in love with you.

When Lewis found out you were pregnant, he was so ecstatic that he couldn't contain the secret the first person he called being Sebastian, who laughed as Lewis cried halfway through the announcement that you had to take over the phone call to explain. Sebastian immediately sent over the old Red Bull gear and even Ferrari, which made Lewis laugh.

Now, here you stood wearing a long black dress that hugged your small bump perfectly and Lewis just falls in love with you all over again, smiling softly and ignoring whoever was talking to him as he stared at you. "Lewis, LEWIS!" Lewis jumps and blinks staring at George and Carmen who giggle at the older man.

"You're so in love," Carmen sighs, Lewis chuckles and nods, but narrows his eyes seeing someone he doesn't know reach out to touch his child. "Y/n," You back up and smile brightly and rush over, "DOn't run," Lewis lowers his voice, and moves wrapping his arms around you, as you practically melt into his hold.

You always heard the rumors of how women get really weird pregnancy cravings, and yours has been your husband. It was weird, but ever since you hated not being close to him or just having his scent on you calmed the morning sickness or any other weird craving you had.

"Who was that about to touch you, and peanut?" Lewis whispers, and you sigh pulling him closer. "Don't know," You admit, Lewis's arms tighten and kisses the top of your head. "Stop letting random people touch you, I don't like it," You nod your head and Lewis can feel your hands move under his clothes and chuckles as your cold fingers have him shivering, yeah you were definitely trying to steal his clothes.

"When I change into my team gear, you can wear my sweater, okay," Kissing the top of your head you about melt thinking about how much you're going sleep so good when he's at practice. "I think I win best baby daddy," "Yea, you do,"

[mint--yoongs]

Hi can u do a smau with max where reader is a doc for f1 and when max unfortunately has an accident she is one of the first responders(dont know what they are called!!!) And he just stares at her and its like love at first sight for him(he fell first and HARDER!!!!!) and everyone online could see it as well

Some teasing from other drivers as well

And proceed how u deem fit

Loved the sister in law one!!!!!!!

doctor lady | max verstappen

pairing: max verstappen x doctor!reader

summary: max never thought he would be happy getting a injury that puts him out of racing for three months, but when he has a doctor like you? he can’t help but be a little happy.

liked by landonorris, yourusername, charles_leclerc, and 816,074 others!

maxverstappen1: we are allllm good guys!!!!!!!!!!!!! we are aliveee wnd well babybyvy 🤘AND me and lanHOE (becuare he id a BOE) got a pretty doctory lady 🥰🥰🥰 she’s sooooooooioiiooooo nice and prety AND she made us NOT feel pain so we love her 😍😍😍😍😍

view comments below!

user1: they got him on those GOOD painkillers

user2: we’ve seen drunk max, but drugged max? a whole new level

landonorris: guy our lady doctor is soilioooooooooo prety 😍

maxverstappen1: HEY NO 😡😡 i alreadys called dibs!!!!!! she’s MY prety doctor lady. she game ME her instagran and i’m takin HER on a date!

yourusername: if my supervisor is reading this, i gave him my instagram and agreed going on a date with him because he was being difficult, started crying, and wouldn’t take his medication until i did.

maxverstappen1: HELLO MY BEAUTIFUL LOVE

user2: started crying??? max verstappen started crying???

user3: pain meds do that to you 🤕

user4: i need a video of that right now

user5: he is out of IT. i can’t wait till he wakes up and realizes what he’s done

charles_leclerc: happy you’re okay mate!

maxverstappen1: oh charles i have missed you dearly 🥰🥰 so happy you got 1st!!!!!!!

charles_leclerc: thank you max ❤️

maxverstappen1: i can wait for you to meet my future wife!!!!!!!! you’ll love her! she saved me life ❤️

charles_leclerc: someone please take his phone away

maxverstappen1: NOOOOO I JUST WANT TO TALK ABOUT MY FUTURE WIFR 😡

user6: max, charles is just trying to save you from the embarrassment

user7: when he sobers up, he either won’t give a shit and continue OR he’ll be so embarrassed and he’ll never show his face again

yourusername: everyone, please don’t pay mind to max, he is under very heavy drugs, and is not in a right state of mind. we have tried confiscating his phone, but he starts kicking and becomes difficult.

user8: i know this girl is scared for her job 😭

user9: having max as a drugged out patient seems horrible

user10: literal nightmare material

maxverstappen1: MYYY LOVVER HELLO

user11: good lord #freeyn

danielricciardo: i would say, i hope you recover, but i have a feeling you don’t want to recover?

maxverstappen1: I DONTTTT I NEVER EANT TO RECIVER BECAUSE THAT MEANS NOT SEEING MY BEAUTIFUL LADY DOCTOR SO NO!!! NO RECOVERY FOR ME

danielricciardo: screenshotting all of this for later 🤣

landonorris: i’m hungry, maxie can you tell lady doctor i’m hungry?

yourusername: you can talk to me lando. i’ll go get you something.

landonorris: NOOOO I CABR TALK TO THE LADY DOCTOR MAX SAID I CANT AND HE DAID IF I DID HESS GOING TO KILL ME AND I DONT WANT TO BE KILLED AHHHH

maxverstappen1: YOU FONT GET TO TALK TO MY PRETTY DOCTOR LADY IM GOING TO JILL YLY LANDO

user12: this is genuinely like the funniest shit ever 😭

user13: can’t believe in 10 years from now we’re going to look back at this and laugh

user14: 10 years?? bitch im LAUGHING RIGHT NOW

redbullracing; speedy recovery max! 💓

maxverstappen1: NOOOO NO SPEEDY RECOVERY NO RECOVERY FOR MAX

user15: head injury so bad he lost his love for racing

user16: on a serious note, his injury’s did seem pretty bad, especially his leg…

user17: honestly i’d be surprised if he returned to racing immediately

landonorris: maxie and me got separated :(((( 😞☹️😕😭🥺 lady doctor is is MEAN

yourusername: you two were arguing and disturbing the other patients.

maxverstappen1: DONT CALL MY LADY DOTCIT MEAN!!!!

user18: went from being worried to laughing out loud because wtf is this??

user27; lando and max crashing was NOT on my 2024 bingo card

user28: f1 having a big crash was not on MY 2024 bingo card

liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername, landonorris, 619,027 others!

redbullracing: unfortunately, due to last weeks crash regarding lando norris and max verstappen. max has been forced to take a three month leave of absence from racing, as he has severely fractured his lower leg. he has immediately started physical therapy, let’s wish him a speedy recovery ❤️‍🩹

view comments below!

maxverstappen1: what a shame 😕 truly saddened by this outcome 😞

user19: what??

landonorris: take a wild guess as to who’s going to be his doctor for three months?

user20: PRETTY LADY DOCTOR???

maxverstappen1: maybe 🥰

user21: we’ve entered the era where max does not gaf about racing as long as he gets to see yn

user22: does this mean he’s not winning the wdc?

user23: he still can, he just has to win basically every race after the 3 months, which isn’t exactly impossible for him

charles_leclerc; so sad for max!

user24: your ass does not feel sad for max 😭

user25: he has his eyes on the wdc!!!

user26: HE ACTUALLY HAS A CHANCE TO WIN BOW

maxverstappen1: @/yourusername, ready to take care of me for 3 months :D

yourusername: no

maxverstappen1: 😕

user27: HAHAHA

danielricciardo: LOSER

landonorris: HAHAH GET REJECTED

charles_leclerc: EMBARRASSING

oscarpiastri: that hurt to read

maxverstappen1: SHUT UP WHO ASKED YOU

user28: tbh i wouldn’t be excited to have max as a patient for 3 whole months with how he acted that night in the emergency room

user29: that man is secretly crazy and you can’t convince me otherwise

user30: i love how max is clearly like head over heels for yn, but she can’t date him because he’s her patient 😭

user31: she can’t?

user30: NO!!! that’s unethical, she can date him after the 3 months but not during

user32: that not being common knowledge to some people is concerning…

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc, yourusername, and 917,027 others!

maxverstappen1: day one of physical therapy a success ✅

view comments below!

landonorris: so, how many times did she reject you today?

maxverstappen1: ZERO.

yourusername: 10**

landonorris: TENN??????

maxverstappen1: i just don’t understand why she won’t say yes 😞

yourusername: because it’s severely unethical and will get me fired

maxverstappen1: so what i’m hearing is that you’ll go out with me when i’m no longer your patient?

user33: let the countdown begin

charles_leclerc: missed you at the race today!

maxverstappen1: no you didn’t

charles_leclerc: no i didn’t! MAX IT FEELS SO GOOD TOO WIN

maxverstappen1: yeah i KNOW.

yourusername: don’t worry charles, he was watching you during his whole therapy session, and cheered so loudly when you won that we got complains from patients on the other side of the building!

charles_leclerc: I KNEW IT!!!

maxverstappen1: you said you wouldn’t tell anyone yn 😕

user34: it’s so…unsettling seeing max be so publicly affectionate

user35: RIGHT?? like why is he so open about this??

user36: he has no shame…

yourusername: i told you to stop taking pictures of me while i’m working

maxverstappen1: but you just look sooooo pretty

danielricciardo: she doesn’t want you bro

maxverstappen1: SHUT UP

user37: she’s stronger then me, because if i had max verstappen down bad like that?

user38: no literally, i would’ve made him mine the same day we met

user39: why is max posting regular pictures?? it’s weird

user40: he’s trying to impress yn

user39: well he’s going about it all wrong. because these photos just don’t match?? cat, hospital, and then a crappy photo of a therapy room?? horrible horrible HORRIBLE

user41: damn…

liked by yourusername, landonorris, and 619,017 others!

maxverstappen1: 2 months down…1 more to go!

view comments below!

user42: HE IS COUNTING DOWN

user43: WE KNEW IT!!!

landonorris: i can’t belive you tricked me into going to a photo shoot for you

maxverstappen1: that is not what happened.

landonorris: you told me we were going golfing, next thing i know i’m watching you get your picture taken like 92884 times 😑

maxverstappen1: just say your jealous

landonorris: OF WHAT???

user44: he’s getting better at being aesthetic

user45: he’s learning!!

user46: are we all going to skip past the fact that max, a hater of everything, had a whole as photo shoot for his instagram?????

maxverstappen1: yn told me i should post more photos of myself for the instagram

user47: so you had a whole photo shoot????

maxverstappen1: yes

user48: oh he’s in love

danielricciardo: looking good max 😍

maxverstappen1; thank you for the support daniel!

landonorris: was that a dig to me?

maxverstappen1: yes.

landonorris: I WAS EXPECTING GOLF

yourusername: looking good max

maxverstappen1: really??? you really think so??

yourusername: yes (with the upmost professionalism)

maxverstappen1: 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

user49: why did max just add “yn thinks i look good 🥰” to his bio

user50: LMAOO I THOUGHT YOU WERE JOKING???

user49: no 😭 he very literally put “yn thinks i look good 🥰” in his bio

user51: why does it look like max is in the doctor training room?

maxverstappen1: because i am!!

user51: THEY LET YOU IN THERE????

yourusername: my boss is a huge f1 fan. so he lets max do whatever he wants 🙄

user51: i’m sorry that’s so funny 😭

user52: does max just follow her around all day??

yourusername: pretty much, yeah

user53: you have no idea how much i want to be you

charles_leclerc: wow max looking good

maxverstappen1: thank you charles

charles_leclerc: aren’t you going to put “charles thinks i look good” in your bio?

maxverstappen1: i don’t care about you enough for that

user54: DAMN THATS COLD

user55: those cats are so cute 🥺

. . .

. . .

liked by yourusername, landonorris, and 914,078 others!

maxverstappen1: guys i did!!!! i got a date with the pretty doctor lady 🥰🥰

view comments below!

user56: when he falls first and harder >>

user57; this man is literally obsessed with yn it’s insane

landonorris: beat me too it

landonorris: THIS IS A JOKE PLEASE DONT KILL ME

maxverstappen1: nothing funny. i didn’t laugh. you aren’t funny.

landonorris: 😕

user58: WE CHEERED!!!

user59: i still think it would be funny if she just said no even after the 3 months

yourusername; i thought about it, but he’s rich and pretty so 🤷‍♀️

maxverstappen1: pretty :D

user60: she’s so pretty

maxverstappen1: like i’ve been SAYING.

user61: i’ve never seen a man so down bad before

user62: it’s unnerving

user63: a doctor, pretty, and funny?? max hit the jackpot

user64: they both hit the jackpot 😒 it pisses me off

user65: LMAO WHY??

user64: seeing people live the life i want makes me unexplainably mad

danielricciardo: you’re joking right? she’s not actually dating you?

maxverstappen1: what’s that supposed to mean

danielricciardo: it means she’s too good for you @/yourusername are you being held hostage

yourusername; yes

danielricciardo: OH I KNEW IT. DONT WORRY HELP IS ON THE WAY

maxverstappen1: you guys are mean.

yourusername: this means i can never be your doctor again

maxverstappen1: what if once day, on my way home i crash, and its a big crash with smoke and fire, and i get taken to the hospital but i refuse to let anyone touch me that isn’t you, would you still not help me?

yourusername: there’s just something so undiagnosed about you

user65: HAHAHA

user66: max is just so unexplainable

charles_leclerc: are my eyes deceiving me or did she finally say yes 

maxverstappen1: SHE SAID YES

charles_leclerc: OH YEAH OH YEAH I KNEW YOU COULD DO IT BUDDY

maxverstappen1: OH YEAH OH YEAH

user67: my lestappen heart 💔

. . .

notes: enjoy this while i spend the rest of my night learning how to play the sims

thank you for requesting!!

[mint--yoongs]

this is soo cuteeee🥹😭😭

souvenir

pairing: yoongi x reader

wordcount: 3k

glimpse: shouldn’t this be the part where you tell him not to stay out too late?

alternatively, yoongi thinks you hate him because you don’t coddle him after a fight.

[ So Much Pining but they’re already in a relationship lol, some angst from a lil fight, yoongi likes being chased but u don’t indulge him this time, 10/10 wholesome ]

notes: a little something as i come back to writing <3 this is a new fic universe altogether and may be a slice of life series :O

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! even replying to this post sends me over the moon :)

Yoongi relishes in being difficult.

He’s difficult in the way that he’s stubborn for whatever it is, no matter how low he could stoop. It’s definitely a working progress, but your husband just still hasn’t shaken the urge to always have the last say.

It wasn’t a deep control thing, honestly — Yoongi just really loves pushing your buttons. 

If Yoongi could find a route to piss you off, he’d take a million little detours in the process just for you to take the cake by the end of it. When you present to him a simple yes or no question, he’d find a way to shift the topic altogether for your conversation to go absolutely nowhere.

He’s annoying, there’s really no doubt about it. It was a learning curve at first because seeing your then-boyfriend (now your husband) become snarky at you for surprisingly no reason at all wasn’t exactly the best feeling. All it took was a simple call to Jin, Yoongi’s closest friend, to make you realize that he was just being playful. Your husband being a brat to you, simply put into words, is his love language.

It’s the tiny accumulative moments where he purposely irritates you that in hindsight, it’s become oddly endearing. 

When you pick where to order take-out because Yoongi keeps saying whatever, he whines to no end once the food arrives because apparently, it’s not what he had in mind. You used to be so pissed about it that you’ll order what he wants, but nowadays, you just tell him to suck it up and put more food on his plate.

When you do all the laundry in one go (no, the colors don’t bleed together) and Yoongi insists that you do separate batches for each color that he could enumerate, you would try and appease him by pretending to separate each one. Now, all that Yoongi gets is a high-pitched sarcastic compliment for knowing all his colors.

Whatever Yoongi purposely gave you to incite a reaction, it all melted into your understanding that this was just him. You’re no longer affected by the tiny little things because weirdly enough, they no longer serve its purpose of annoying you. 

It’s just like taking care of Ginger, the spoiled little family cat you grew to take care of back in your childhood home. When she was still a kitten, she’d purposely go up your shelves, look at you in the eye before dropping an item, and you’re leaping after the orange devil to reprimand her. When she became an adult, she still had the same annoying tendencies, and yet you evolved enough not to even bat an eye when she does it now.

Yoongi being annoying to you now isn’t the same thing of him being annoying to you back then. What you used to hate, you now tolerate. What used to piss you off, now makes you endeared. When your husband pushes your buttons now, you’re reminded of how much more mischievous he used to be and the memories that came with it.

This is now your peak — there’s really nothing Yoongi could do that make you fazed anymore.

In a great bout of karma, this is Yoongi’s trough. 

You barely give him an adverse reaction nowadays and that scares him right to his core because you used to be so enthusiastic over him. There’d be days where he picks fights intentionally and you’d spend the whole night trying to make it up to him, even if he necessarily wasn’t in the right.

Yoongi thinks that he’s witnessing himself being old news right in front of you and it scares him. 

You’re more well-versed when it comes to this. You’re the more attentive, more vocal lover between the two of you. You’re the one who can read minds and interpret actions. You’re the one who tends to be more confrontational and he’s the passive one. You’re the one who makes sure that a night wouldn’t pass without the two of you making up.

Yoongi, who thought this was the best thing he’s ever thought of until twenty minutes ago, decides to rekindle your romance by picking a fight with you.

Twenty minutes later, he’s never regretted a decision more in his life.

“I’m going out.” 

He announces as the last resort, head pounding because the fight became bigger than necessary. It’s 9 in the evening and he isn’t even dressed to be going out, his matching pajamas with you too soft and too worn to be even seen wearing while driving in the comfort of his own car.

Yoongi feels tears pricking in his eyes because clearly you laid onto him just as much as he made digs at you tonight, but what’s even more hurtful is that looking at you now, you don’t even look as startled as he is.

Maybe it’s just his mind. His silly, smooth, little mind that thinks the fight was bigger than it actually was. It was just a tiny argument about him baselessly accusing you of not putting in any effort that went off-topic for a brief second. In reality, it really was just a casual fight that most married couples have on a rare weekend but to Yoongi, it was explosive.

It was far more hurtful than he anticipated because in his eyes now, you don’t love him that much anymore.

“Okay. Go ahead,” you mumble for him to hear, putting away leftovers like any other night. You meticulously wrap the plates with cling wrap, your back turned to him when you mutter. “I hope the door hits your ass on the way out.”

“O-oh?” Yoongi backtracks when he hears your go-ahead, literally shell-shocked to see that you’re not stopping him. He wipes away his tears before you turn your neutral gaze back to him, swallowing the lump on his throat. “I’m going now. To get some air.”

“Okay, Yoongi.”

He’s done this before. There’s been fights where you tell him not to walk out on you and he complies. There’s also been fights where he walks out anyways, but you’d always tell him I love you and not to stay out too late.

He’s attempting the second option because clearly, you’re not pleading for him to talk this out and later on could the two of you get some air together.

“I’m really, really going now.”

He looks at you with shaky eyes, clearly pleading for you to indulge him by making him stay. 

You see right through him. You see right through your husband and in any other day would you just laugh this off, but tonight isn’t working for you. You were tired from work, Yoongi picked a fight with you for no reason, and you neither have the energy to tolerate nor chase him.

Every now and then, you should stop coddling Yoongi and give him exactly what he claims to want.

“Okay. Bye.”

You leave no room for any more replies, sauntering over the stairs without looking back.

Yoongi doesn’t want to look like a coward for not following through what he said so he audibly opens the door with the creak being heard all the way up the stairs. He’s not even a fourth out of the door but his bottom lip already blubbers, legs trembling from another type of chill that his pajamas can’t protect him from.

Shouldn’t this be the part where you tell him not to stay out too late?

( ♡ )

It’s 9:30 on a Saturday, Yoongi’s at a friend’s club wearing his sleeping pajamas on, drinking Pocari Sweat because crying on the way here really dehydrated him.

Yoongi is not doing well.

Jin’s originally here to survey his club at a peak night, but that plan went downhill as soon as Yoongi spotted him and immediately clung to his back asking for electrolyte water.

“Call Y/N using my phone.”

Yoongi mumbles when the two of them are settled at a secluded booth, all the noise being significantly decreased but not enough for it to be unrecognizable that he’s at a club through a phone call.

“And why exactly would I do that?” Jin snorts, already having an inkling to know where this is going from having a quick run-down from your husband himself.

He’s just about to lecture him with the words he’s always been wanting to say; something along the words that Yoongi’s bratty tendencies were eventually gonna bite him in the ass hard.

Seokjin doesn’t get to do that though because a phone is thrust to his face that it almost punches him, making him faux spit into nothing and wave off his bodyguards standing at a distance from him.

“Quick. She’s probably worried sick about me!” Yoongi convinces Jin, or atleast tries to because he’s the one that needs it. You’re probably wondering where he is, right? There may be no texts in his inbox, but who’s to say that you’re telepathically texting him to ask what time he’s coming home… right?

“No she’s not,” he sing-songs. He plans to annoy his friend for about 98% the time he’s going to be here (he’s gonna send him home to you anyway before 10:30) and the other 2% for semi-sincere consoling.

Then an idea pops into Jin’s head.

“What should I say?” he suddenly and eagerly takes up Yoongi on his request, not waiting for an answer before the perfect scenario pops in his head. “Ah wait, let me be in charge of that.”

Jin’s already pressing to call you much faster to Yoongi’s expectations because he really thought that it would take more amounts of convincing to do this. The phone’s put on speaker and as soon as it rings, Yoongi feels the urge to duck. He’s steadily about to snatch his phone back but you answer your phone even faster than he could do that.

“Hi Y/N!” Seokjin beams and it makes you smile from the other end, a clue already being filled in your head where exactly your husband went to. “Whatcha doing?” 

Jin makes conversation with you on Yoongi’s phone, sleazily smiling as he takes it off of speaker as soon as his friend hears your voice. Yoongi clearly takes an outrage with that but he contains it when Jin fully extends his arm out, holding him back by the face.

“Ugh, did you make popcorn? No way, not one burnt kernel? I knew it-!” Jin yelps when Yoongi bites his palm, quickly standing up from his seat in the booth so Yoongi couldn’t catch up with him. “I told you- I told you that brand’s way better!” 

“She’s not asking why you’re using my phone?” Yoongi whisper-yells as he circles around Seokjin, hands anxiously attempting to grab his phone back. “She’s not asking about me?”

Jin hears him loud and clear but he pretends not to, only sparing a glance. “Did you use the microwave preset? Personally I recommend only popping it in for two minutes and fifteen seconds because- motherfucker!”

Yoongi pinches him by the nape quite harshly like how you’d do with a kitten and it makes Jin freeze for a brief second, stealing his phone back with the call on-going.

“Y/N!” he almost yells to the phone, the momentary silence making it sink to him that he’s finally talking to you after so long. 

Read: it has only been forty minutes.

“What?” you groan into the phone, pushing your voice to be further disinterested. You’re no longer mad at him anymore — you’re just having some bit of fun at this point.

“I-I...” the words dissolve quickly on his tongue, the taste being bitter once again even when he was certain that the Pocari washed it out earlier. Yoongi says the next best thing he could that first pops up into his head, the random blurting of words being amusing even for Jin’s bodyguards.

“I uhm, I have a splinter.”

“Then take it out.”

“It hurts,” he whines at another attempt, screwing his eyes shut at the secondhand embarrassment because from the corner of his eye, one of the three bodyguards is actually clutching at his stomach from laughing. 

“Have Jin do it for you then.”

“Jin and I are in the club, by the way!” he reminds you, perking up slightly now that you indirectly acknowledged where he is and who he’s with.

“Mhmm.”

Just one last pathetic attempt of skirting around and if it doesn’t work, Yoongi will immediately come home to you.

“Is the popcorn good?” 

Read: it doesn’t work.

Jin steals his phone back before he could even hear your response to his dumb-witted question, getting a painful run-down from his friend instead. “You’re painful to watch, y’know that?”

He sighs disappointedly at Yoongi, rolling his eyes before pressing the phone to his ear. “So? What’s it taste like? It’s not really oily, I told you already. The cheese doesn’t smell obnoxious either. Because actually — exactly! It doesn’t stain your fingers!”

Yoongi… will lose it. But before he loses it completely, he gathers all his remaining sanity to continue your tradition while Jin keeps you preoccupied. He spots two things quickly and puts it into his arms with no semblance of shame, even if Jin’s bodyguards saw him technically shoplifting. Yoongi thinks it doesn’t count as such because Jin already knows about the tradition between the two of you, and as predicted, his friend just waves him off in acknowledgement.

It’s a tiny tradition.

Whenever one of you goes somewhere without the other, it’s a rule to bring back a souvenir. There’s no specifications to it, just whatever item you could bring back as proof that you thought about the other while you were out.

Some of the souvenirs you brought home to Yoongi: a pretty rock, a duvet cover, a liter of hand sanitizer, a designer card wallet, and a scrunchie with his name embroidered on it.

Some of the souvenirs Yoongi brought home to you: a fancy teaspoon, a hotel pillow, ten perfume testers at the same time, a remote holder, and a teddy bear with his voice as its squeezable heart.

Yoongi thinks that he doesn’t have shoplifting tendencies but in hindsight of some of the souvenirs he’s gotten you, there may be a pattern to it.

“You brought home... a shot glass.”

You look at the tiny glass, the remnants of electrolyte water still swishing around it.

“Wrong,” he sternly replies, bringing an item from behind his back that couldn’t be anymore obvious even if he tried. “I brought home a shot glass and a tiny potted plant.”

“Since when did bars have potted plants?” you mutter in disbelief, taking the miniature bonsai from him and looking at it in wonder.

“Since tonight! Jin’s, I don’t know, entrepreneurial like that. I wanted to show it to you so I brought it home.”

Your husband says it’s like the most obvious thing to do; his desire for you to know that he indeed thought about you while he was gone manifesting into bringing home one shot glass, and one tiny bonsai to prove it.

“You stole it, Yoongs.”

The amusement lilts in your voice and Yoongi catches on to it, but he just can’t seem to let it go, a little upset that you’re focused on him “stealing” it instead of the fact that he’d go through whatever lengths for you.

“Again, I brought it home because I wanted you to see it!”

“You could’ve just sent me a picture,” you giggle, setting down the pot on your side table. You peel back the covers you momentarily left, patting the spot beside you and Yoongi clearly could not have went to bed any more eager than this.

“How was I supposed to know?” he mumbles in defeat, a frown on his face. “You probably would’ve iced me out.”

“You didn’t even ask me what time I’d get home.” 

Yoongi sighs and even if the moment’s already been significantly lightened with the souvenirs, it brings you a greater relief now that your husband’s choosing to say what’s exactly bothering him instead of pissing you off.

“You didn’t even chase me through the door! I didn’t even want to go!” he’s almost one step into a tantrum and you have to hold him by the arm to not get too carried away by reminiscing, rolling your eyes when you hold him closer.

“You went out because you thought I’d chase you.”

“Exactly,” he affirms, albeit a little upset now that he’s confirmed you knew all along. “Can’t you just chase after me?” Yoongi asks innocently, soft eyes staring you down.

The moment’s too tender that it makes your shoulders hunch, hand automatically moving to the side of his face to guide him into nuzzling into the crook of your neck — a move he looks forward to especially after tonight.

“I’m not always gonna chase after you, Yoongi,” you confide, lips brushing on his temple. “You’re just so damn stubborn sometimes. Like, makes-my-jaw-clench type of stubborn.”

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi sincerely apologizes, his face still buried to your neck with his arms clinging around your middle. “I guess I’m just so used to you making amends with me that it makes me act out on purpose.”

Yoongi faults himself at the end of the night this time, without your prompting, and you can’t deny that it makes your heart full.

“I’m sorry, baby.”

He lifts his head up to look at you directly, lips puffed into a pout with his eyes in slow blinks. “Yoongi’s very sorry.”

Maybe you spoke too soon. Maybe Yoongi’s just always gonna be slightly annoying.

“Did you just talk about yourself in third-person?” you mumble, eyes suddenly snapping open when it sinks into you.

“Isn’t it cuter that way? Is it working?” your husband heartily laughs, stretching his arms out to put around you and invade your personal space even more. “Why, do you feel it working?”

“I don’t know what to feel about it, that’s for sure,” you chuckle, the atmosphere completely lightened at this point.

“I promise I’ll try not to be difficult anymore. Won’t piss you off either.”

“That doesn’t happen overnight, Yoonie.” 

Yoongi’s just… mischievous. His love language was to pull stuff with you and although it keeps you on your toes more often than necessary, you wouldn’t be tired of him.

“Tell you what, promise me this instead,” you turn right when Yoongi was about to do it himself so he could bury his face to the crook of your neck again, blinking owlishly to listen at what you have to say.

“Try to chase after me too. Let me be the difficult one sometimes.” 

Yoongi smiles, the switch being more than intriguing. “M’kay. That’s not as hard to promise doing.”

The concept of it makes him happy too much that it lingers there, reverting back to calling you his term of endearment for you and that’s when you know that there’s nothing left unresolved between the two of you now.

“I like that, bear. You should try picking fights with me too. It’s fun sometimes, trust me!”

“I can tell,” you hum, blindly reaching out your arm to turn off the nightlight at your side.

“Yoongi likes that.”

“Stop talking about yourself in third person.”

“I think it’s already growing on me,” Yoongi admits, tilting his head and knowing for a fact that it would take more than fifteen minutes to sleep tonight while in thought.

“Is it gonna stick?” 

The groan leaves you automatically and by the lack of response, you already know your answer.

“Bear,” you hum. “If you keep doing that, I’m gonna pick a fight with you tomorrow, alright?”

“M’kay! Remind me tomorrow what time you’re gonna start pissing me off, yeah?” he grins from ear to ear, not requiring a nightlight to see that your husband looks at you so fondly.

“Good night, baby,” Yoongi finally bids you, pressing a tender kiss right to your lips before tucking you with the comforter exactly how you liked it. “Loving you is my favorite part of the chase.”

[mint--yoongs]

perpetual datejust

pairing: yoongi x reader

wordcount: 19k

glimpse: when the general public hears the name min yoongi, they know him as the world-famous model who’s beyond talented in his craft. when the modeling industry hears the name min yoongi, they remember you: his resolute, firm, and sometimes rude manager who always puts yoongi’s best interests at heart — no matter what.

alternatively, you’re yoongi’s manager and for the first time ever, you take a break away from him.

[ a lot of angst (not all the way thru i promise!!!), love is mutual but unrealized at first, wholesome heartwarming moments, emotional constipation + hint of codependency, yoongi does some rlly stupid things, so much yearning, mentions of sex tape + intercourse (not between the main pairing), jealousy, swearing, redemption arc (i swear!!!) ]

notes: first fic of 2022 <3 thank you so much for waiting patiently for this piece!! i have to say that although this is one of my angst-heavy pieces, this is perhaps the warmest fic out of all of them (take five, heartburn, hlwwf, lyiaik) !! this is my new favorite since you could see more of the emotional growth and development from the characters <33

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! even replying to this post sends me over the moon :)

Keep reading

[mint--yoongs]

heartburn (3)

pairing: jimin x reader

wordcount: 13k

glimpse: jimin’s been yearning for the day he’d get to see you again, even if it’s fleeting and from afar — who would’ve known that the two of you would reunite under unfortunate circumstances?

alternatively, three years have already passed since jimin emotionally cheated on you six months before your wedding.

[ the finale; part one + intermission 01 + part two + intermission 02 ]

[ whole load of angst, more fluff + heartwarming moments compared to the previous parts, mentions and descriptions of car accident (neither jimin’s nor oc’s), blood n thoughts of death, redemption arc uh-huh, emotional growth and closure (?), major longing and yearning, the type of love no one can put into words ]

notes: at the end bc i wILL get sappy :O

as i said before, this does come from somewhere and even if this is fiction, pls read with care bc this is on the heavier side <3 fair warning that i had a lot of people come into my asks and mentions saying that they’ve cried so if u think that this is tOO much and you’re bawling with no breaks, pls take a breather!!

as always, lmk what you think <3 thank you to every single person who’s spent their time on heartburn with me; it means the most. send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! | series masterlist

Keep reading

[mint--yoongs]

Too Late

in which the love you have for him is the cause of your death

requested pairing: seokjin x reader word count: 3,242 genre: angst hanahaki disease au

*****

Keep reading

[mint--yoongs]

Flawed - myg

Genre: Fluffy asf, slight angst

Warnings: self-harm scars, and that's really it lovelies.

Word count: 2K

Request: can you write one where yoongi is y/n’s neighbor (either he recently moved there or she did, doesn’t matter) and y/n is pretty introverted and has had a tough life. she deals w self-harm (if ur not comfortable writing this part its totally fine, you can skip it or u can just make it so that it was in the past and she doesn’t currently do it anymore) and depression. she’s a painter but is always self conscious of her paintings/drawings but he sees them and appreciates them, they become good friends, and both open up to eachother, their windows are next to eachother in a way so they always meet up on the roof that’s connected to their window(idk if i’m making sense lol) and they lay there talk and stare at the stars. you can end it however u want but this is the gist of what i was thinking (also, if you do decide to write the SH part, u don’t have to write the act of it, just him maybe seeing them and her talking about it and him comforting her about it) and ofc if u can make it fluffy lol

Ofc!! I hope you don't mind the direction I took it :)))

These small moments of peace are what keep you sane. 

A good book, a new favorite song, rainy days spent on your sofa watching movies. 

The small moments in between are what really matter – between the chaos and excitement, where nothing really matters more than how warm you are bundled up under your favorite blanket or how the breeze moves through you perfectly on an evening walk. 

This moment was one of those moments. 

Sat on the small chair you had on the fire-escape you’d turned into a nice enough little balcony. A warm cup of coffee clutched by your cold fingers as the autumn morning breeze chilled them. 

The apartment across from yours had been empty for some time, not that you minded at all. Their fire escape was no more than 10 feet away from yours, the buildings almost hugging in this gridlocked city you moved to. 

But today it seemed your peace was over, as you could see through the window that someone was moving in. You sighed briefly as you stood, empty mug in hand as you stepped back into your apartment through the small window before closing it behind you, catching a glimpse of who you presume would be your new neighbor. 

He peered at you through his own window, a small curious smile playing on his lips as he gave you a small wave. 

You returned it, giving a small smile of your own before you turned away. 

One of the thing’s you found yourself grateful for was the size of your apartment. It wasn’t large or glamorous by any stretch of the imagination, but you had enough room for a small art studio in one of the bedrooms. 

You smiled to yourself almost unconsciously as you eyed down a blank canvas, the gentle features of your new neighbor flooding your mind, and you wondered for a moment how often you’d have to run into him. 

-

You leaned against the front door to your apartment as it shut, a deep wave of relief washing over you to finally be home. The late-night shifts at your job always had been the most draining, and today was no different. 

You slid off your jacket after you finally managed to push yourself from the door and hung it on the rack. As you reached up to hang it, the sleeve of your sweater raised up slightly, revealing the scars you’d long-since stopped collecting. They served as reminder as to why you stopped, but from time-to-time, they seemed more to be egging you on rather than reminding you why you stopped. 

Another small sigh left your lips as you gently rubbed over your wrist, before pulling your sleeve back down. 

After making yourself a cup of tea and grabbing your sketchbook, you headed over to the window and climbed out onto the fire escape. You sat down and brought your knees up, resting your sketchbook on them as you opened up to a fresh page. Your new neighbor had decorated his own fire escape with plants and fairy lights, a very nice sight in comparison to the empty one it’d been days before. 

You began to sketch the scene in front of you, looking up every so often to refresh your memory, but this time when you looked up, the man that’d waved at you a few days prior was standing in front of you, a cup of coffee in his hands as he stood out on his fire escape; looking at you with another one of his small smiles. 

“Hope you don’t mind, I used yours as inspiration,” You sat confused for a second before realizing he was referring to your own “balcony”. 

“Not at all, gives me something new to look at,” You smiled, going back down to your drawing, copying down the way the vines of one of his plants wrapped around the railing. 

“What are you doing up so late, anyways?” He asked, now leaning over an un-occupied portion of the railing. 

“I could ask you the same thing,” you responded, not looking up from your paper. 

“I just got off work,” you smiled, looking up briefly with the intention of getting another look at how the lights were hanging, but instead just looked at him and back down again. 

“Me too.” 

-

As weeks passed, you’d gotten to know the man with the pretty fire escape, Yoongi, pretty well. You both got off work around the same time and made your way out so you could talk to one another, and tonight was no different. 

“You can’t just tell me that you paint and then refuse to show me anything you’ve painted, that’s just cruel!” You giggled, pulling your jacket closer to your body as the cool air nipped at your skin. 

“I wouldn’t say cruel, I was just making conversation! How was I supposed to know that you’d want to see it?” You smiled lightly, a blush creeping on your cheeks as you looked up at the night sky, Something Yoongi and you had started doing so you could point out different constellations to one another, and now continue doing so you can talk for more  time without having to sit up. 

“Who hears about someone doing any form of art and doesn’t immediately want to experience it? That’s like going up to someone and telling them you have fresh-baked brownies but and not letting them have any,” 

“What if I made the brownies for myself? I didn’t go through all the trouble of baking a whole pan of brownies just to hand them out to people, I made the brownies so I could eat them.” 

“Ah, an artist who creates for themselves, keeping the beauty of their creations to themselves while the rest of the world remains blissfully unaware of what it could be experiencing. Truly the most cruel act I can imagine,” His voice was more serious than his previous digs at you, but even without looking at him, you knew he was smiling as he spoke. 

“That’s a lot easier to say when you don’t have art to hide. When it’s just yours you can appreciate it, the work you put into it and the flaws that make it yours. But when showing it to others, they might not have the same appreciation for it,” 

While it was true that there was a point in time where you desperately wanted the world to see what you’d spent so much time creating, that time has long since passed; the words of the ones you’d shown your art to etched into your brain and no matter how much you tried to shake them away, they still cling in your memory. 

There was a silence, not an uncomfortable or long one, but one where you both sat and thought about what was said, still staring up at the stars that twinkled softly. 

“I make music, you know,” You looked over at him, suddenly less engulfed in the way the stars shone and more interested in whatever Yoongi had to say; yet his gaze remained fixed up at the sky. “I never wanted to show anyone until one day I did, and now…” he was silent, but you could see his lips begin to curve upward before you decided to turn your attention back to the sky.

“Well now I let the world listen, and in return, it thanks me.”

-

You were honestly half-asleep on your sofa when a gentle knock on your door startled you back to the land of the living. You stood up and paused the show and threw your blanket over your couch, having no idea who could possibly be here and how judgmental they would be about blanket-placement. 

You opened your door to see Yoongi, smiling somewhat nervously. You turned and peered at the time on your stove, surprised that it was already nearly 3 in the morning. 

“Sorry, I hope you don’t mind, I just thought we could like actually hang out, instead of just sitting on the fire escape,” he noticed your hesitation and quickly spoke again. “I meant like out for a coffee or something, you don’t have to invite me in-” 

“Yeah sure, sorry, I’m still half asleep. You can come in while I change,” You stepped aside and opened your door a little further to allow him in. “Make yourself at home, I’ll be right back,” 

You smiled as you closed the door and swiftly moved back to your room to but on something more inappropriate than sweatpants and the oversized t-shirts of one of your ex’s. 

You walked back out to the living room, but he wasn’t there. You furrowed your brow briefly before you realized that there was only one other room he could possibly be in. You ran to your studio, the lights now on with Yoongi staring at all the paintings you had propped up against the wall. 

“These are…” He trailed off, never taking his eyes away from your work to acknowledge you were even in the room. 

“Not really that great, I know, but they weren’t really meant to be seen-” 

“Y/n, these are amazing,” He looked at you now, his smile shining brightly before he looked back at them, almost in disbelief at how good they were, at how good you were. “How have you never shown these to anyone?” 

You silently leaned up against the wall, thinking back to the last time you had shown someone. “The last person that saw anything I made had a very different reaction than you,” He tore his eyes away from them and moved them to you, confusion strewn about his features, as if he couldn’t fathom anyone seeing your art any differently than he had. 

“It was a long time ago, anyway,” You looked down at your feet, shifting awkwardly as you tried to move on from the tense moment. “He just didn’t really like anything that wasn’t perfect, and everything I make is full of flaws.” 

“But that’s what makes it beautiful, isn’t it?” He asks, taking a few steps closer to you. “Like with most things, the more flawed; the more human that they are, the more beautiful they are,” He was right in front of you now, taking in your features as you did his, much different now in decent lighting and not from completely different buildings. 

He was much softer than he seemed from the fire escape. His eyes warmer and cheeks fuller, he almost seemed ethereal standing in front of you, praising the art you poured your heart and soul into. 

He reached out for your hands, pulling your sleeve up slightly where he feels the healed-over ridges of what once was the worst pain you’ve ever felt, and your heart jumped; someone seeing both your art and your scars within the same 3-minute window of time being much too vulnerable for you. 

He looked down at your arm, wanting to fully see what he was feeling, not fully believing his first thought when he felt them. 

Your arm pulled out flat in front of him as he gently pushed your sleeve up further to reveal more of the scars that littered your body. 

“More of that flawed, human stuff,” You spoke softly, trying to make a joke that came out sounding a lot more depressing than you had intended it to be. 

He brushed his thumb over it softly, realizing he’d stumbled into much more than an art studio when he came over for an innocent cup of coffee. 

Moving almost as if he had no control over his actions, his hands moved to your cheeks and his lips to yours, engulfing you in a kiss that portrayed so much more than words ever could. 

The voices in your head telling you all the negative things about yourself fell away as he filled you with positivity; filled you with reassurance and understanding that no one else had been able to offer you with all the words that they knew. 

He softly pulled away, your foreheads connected and his hands still cupping your face as you opened your eyes to see him already looking back at you with his warm dark eyes. 

“And all the more beautiful it makes you.”

[mint--yoongs]

547 Days Away | KSJ

"What am I going to do without you here?" "Live." or alternatively, Jin comforts you before he enlists.

→pairing: Kim Seokjin x reader

→genre: fluff, angst, hurt and comfort

→word count: 540

→author's note - we'll be okay army! I hope this brings you all some comfort as it did for me to write it!

"I'm going to miss you."

Today was the day.

The day you hoped would never come.

The day Seokjin would fulfill his duty and enlist in the military.

You both have been holding back tears all morning, but now a flood was flowing out of your eyes. You held onto him tightly in an embrace. You sniffled as he rubbed circles on your back.

"I'm going to miss you too." He says into your hair. Jin takes a deep breath of your natural scent. It always brings him comfort when he needs it most. When you sniffle again, he pulls away to kiss you softly.

He pulls away and looks into your eyes. "Hey, enough with the tears," He whispers as he wipes them away with his thumb. "You're not going to lose me. We can still communicate."

"I know," You say, "But you won't be here with me. What am I supposed to do while you are gone? What am I supposed to do without you here by my side?"

Seokjin smiles softly. He brings you in for another kiss. "Live."

"But how am I supposed to do that without you by my side for 18 months? 547 days?"

"You're strong." He says. "You’ll be okay. Besides, I'm still going to be here, just like I always am. I may not be here physically in person, but I'm still here." He puts a hand on your heart. "My home." You sniffle again as you nod. "And the others will be here too. We are not going away at the same time so you won't be lonely. They will take care of you." He promises.

"I love you so much." He says as he brings you in for another hug.

"I love you too, Jinnie." You mumble into his chest.

"You'll be okay, my love." He reassures you. "You are so strong. Everything will be okay. You'll be okay." Seokjin reaches down to grab ahold of your chin and lifts it so he can see you. "Come on, baby, won't you let me see your beautiful smile?"

You chuckle slightly before giving him your best smile. He laughs. He cups your face with his hands and brushes more tears away. You instantly lean into his touch. Shouts are heard from the gates to the camp. Instructors are ordering the new recruits to say their final goodbyes.

You start to panic a bit as you realize that your remaining time with Jin is coming to a close. His eyes soften as your wide ones meet his. He softly shushes you as he brings you into another deep kiss. He pours everything he feels for you into the kiss. You feel all of your fears wash away as you melt into his arms. His lips chase yours when you move away. "I love you with everything that I am."

"I love you too, Seokjin."

With a couple of final parting words, you leave the safety of his arms. You let him go even though it pains you to see him walk away, but you know you'll be okay. You will listen to what he said and do the best that you can until he returns to you safe and sound.

You'll live.

copyright @ kimkaelyn 2022. All rights reserved

[mint--yoongs]

close to you // myg 

songs aren’t the only things BTS SUGA produces

+ 

just when your marriage with yoongi is finally reaching a conclusion, a moment for the shits and giggles causes signing divorce papers to delay for another 9 months

navi | m. list | ask me ! | send an ask to be on the taglist ! i will not be responding to taglist requests anywhere else !

pairings:

husband // idol!yoongi + wife // stylist!oc 

au/genre: 

marriage // saving a marriage // pregnancy au

idol verse // workplace romance 

smut, crack, angst

social media au + written scenes 

warnings:

implied + actual smut 

mentions of pregnancy and everything related in that topic 

toxic aspects such as: back and forths, concept of staying in a marriage just for the baby, gaslighting, concepts of manipulation, name calling, etc.

parts: 

posting and schedule starts decemeber 2022

playlist

only available on spotify !

index # c2u myg

i . (0/5) can we stay like this

track 01

track 02

track 03

track 04

track 05

ii . (0/25) forever

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