#🐈 ﹒wired in? ﹐♫

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗪𝗜𝗥𝗘𝗗 𝗜𝗡? - part eight, extra max verstappen x reader (fluff) series summary . . . when he wants to be normal, he can count on you, stranger.

( fic master list | general master list ) ( requests ) ( previous )

The soft clatter of pans greeted you as you unlocked the door to your apartment, the comforting hum of home wrapping around you like a warm blanket. It was late—your work had dragged on longer than expected—but you didn’t mind. Not when you knew Max was here, waiting for you.

What you didn’t expect, however, was the faint smell of burnt sugar and the sight of your usually composed boyfriend standing in the middle of the kitchen, looking utterly defeated. Flour dusted his shirt, a smear of chocolate streaked across his cheek, and the counter was a war zone of eggshells, spilled milk, and bowls in various states of disaster.

“Max?” you called, leaning on the doorframe, amused. He spun around, guilt written all over his face like a child caught stealing cookies.

“Yn!” he blurted, dropping the whisk he’d been holding like a weapon. “You’re home early!”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you surveyed the mess. “This is early?” you teased, stepping further into the room. “What on earth are you doing?”

Max flushed, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “I, uh … I was trying to make that dessert you like. You know, the one with the—”

“—the custard and caramel,” you finished for him, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. “And you decided to recreate The Great Food War while you were at it?”

He shrugged, looking entirely too proud of himself for someone surrounded by evidence of culinary failure. “It’s harder than it looks, okay?”

With a sigh and a soft laugh, you rolled up your sleeves. “Move over, Verstappen. Let me show you how it’s done.”

But Max didn’t move far. Instead, he hovered behind you, his arms sliding around your waist as you reached for a clean bowl. “Max,” you warned, trying not to laugh, “you’re in my way.”

“I’m helping,” he mumbled, nuzzling into your shoulder.

“You’re clinging,” you countered, though your heart melted a little at how utterly unbothered he was by the accusation.

After finishing the dessert and cleaning up the kitchen chaos, you heard Max's voice from the living room, streaming with Team Redline. You brought him dinner—a plate of warm pasta—and set it on the coffee table near him. “Dinner,” you announced softly, not wanting to disrupt his game too much.

Max turned to you briefly, shaking his head with an affectionate smile. “I’ll leave in a sec and eat with you, okay?” he promised, his tone warm.

True to his word, he wrapped up quickly and joined you on the couch. As you both ate, the TV played a random movie in the background. At one point, Max leaned in, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“You’ve got something here,” he said, brushing his thumb over the corner of your mouth. Instead of pulling back, he leaned closer, his lips brushing where the sauce had been, then playfully bit your cheek.

“Max!” you yelped, jolting and swatting at him.

He just chuckled, pulling you closer as you tried to look annoyed. “You’re just so edible and small, I could put you in my mouth,” he teased, his grin wide and boyish.

“Max, eat your dinner, not your girlfriend,” you groaned, trying to maintain your faux-annoyance, though the way your lips twitched betrayed you.

"Well good thing you're my fiance," he grinned biting your neck again, pulling a laugh from you as you tried to free yourself.

By the time you were ready for bed, Max had already made himself comfortable under the covers. He was lounging on his side, playing with one of his cats, who was batting lazily at his fingers. When you stepped out of the bathroom, face freshly washed and hair tied back, Max immediately set the cat on the floor and made grabby hands at you.

“C’mere,” he said, his voice soft but insistent.

You rolled your eyes, smiling despite yourself as you climbed into bed. He wasted no time pulling you against his chest, his arms wrapping tightly around you as he buried his face in your neck.

For a moment, the two of you lay there in contented silence, the day’s chaos melting away in the quiet warmth of your shared space.

“You’re unbelievable,” you murmured, your voice teasing.

Max tilted his head to look at you, raising a brow. “What now?”

“You don’t act like the four-time world champion you are, you know that?” you said with a small smirk.

He chuckled softly, his lips brushing against your temple. “That’s because I’m not a four-time world champion right now,” he replied, his tone low and intimate. “I’m just your boyfriend.” He touched his nose to yours, giving you that cute smile you'd always adored.

His words made your heartache in the best way, a soft smile spreading across your face as you nestled closer to him. “Good answer, Verstappen,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as sleep began to pull you under.

Max tightened his arms around you, a quiet hum of contentment escaping him as he pressed one last kiss to your forehead. “Goodnight, Yn.”

“Goodnight, my million.”

[dreamauri]

⌗ 𝗪𝗜𝗥𝗘𝗗 𝗜𝗡? - the master list ┇ . 🌿 :: pairing — ( max verstappen  x  fem! reader ) ┇︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶ ┇ when he wants to be normal, he can count on you, stranger ⨯ ︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶

( main master list | more of max verstappen ) ( requests )

I, PART ONE

II, PART TWO

III, PART THREE

IV, PART FOUR

V PART FIVE

VI, PART SIX

VII, PART SEVEN (finale)

VIII, PART EIGHT (extra)

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗪𝗜𝗥𝗘𝗗 𝗜𝗡? - part seven, finale max verstappen x reader (angst) series summary . . . when he wants to be normal, he can count on you, stranger.

( fic master list | general master list ) ( requests ) ( previous )

VII. DON'T LET ME GO . . . two months after the events at the British Grand Prix weekend and Max is still doing his best try to explain. he's texted, called, and even sent a message through your work team, the Mclaren team, and Lando, all to talk to you. but you don't want to talk to Amilian anymore, (1,319 words). content warning . . . (deceptions of extremely minor Dissociative identity disorder if squinting).

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Max's fingers hovered over his phone, glancing at the screen for the hundredth time as he checked if your “online” status would blink back to life. 

For days, each check ended in disappointment. His chest grew heavier every time your name showed no signs of life, your usual messages and notifications, the two-hour calls now replaced by a glaring silence. He had chased you for weeks now, and though he knew it was a long shot, Max couldn’t bring himself to quit. you had made him feel . . . normal. And after all the years of being the centre of a world that didn't really see him, that meant more than anything.

He decided to try something different, opting to use his actual “Max Verstappen” account this time, ditching the depressed and abandoned Amillian aside. He could feel Amilian inside him crying, begging Max not to be forgotten or thrown aside in a ditch.

Max’s fingers felt almost heavy as he sent the friend request, not expecting much, but to his surprise, you accepted. 

Relief washed over him, tempered by the nervous realization of what he had to do next.

max verstappen. — can we talk max verstappen. — please

He sounded desperate, and he was. He wasn’t sure what to write exactly, he wanted to say a lot of things. “let me fix this”, “I’m sorry”, “let me make this make sense”, “i miss you”, “let me explain”, “im hurting”, “i need you”, his fingers would type if he wasn’t so anxious about it being wrong, overwhelming, and too much.

He threw his phone aside, too scared of your unlikely reply, running his hands over his face, convincing himself to breathe.

The message icon blinked, indicating your response. Max held his breath as he opened it, his heart pounding with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation.

la. —  I'm in Nice for a week.

It was brief but enough for him. He didn’t waste a second, putting on a presentable pair of pants and a shirt, and picking up a car key that would allow him to go past the speed limit without overthinking it. 

When Max arrived in Nice, the tension building inside him crashed. Finding you felt like his only chance to explain, to bring clarity to the mess he had created, and to confront feelings he hadn’t even admitted to himself fully. You had been there with him in a way no one else had, and he couldn't let you go now—not when everything that felt real and safe was bound up in you. You. only you.

Max found you sitting by the coast, the Mediterranean stretching wide and shimmering under the afternoon sun. You looked peaceful, though your slouched posture held a tension he recognized, your gaze far—off and searching. You didn’t see him at first, so he took the chance to drink in the sight of you. The girl who had changed everything without even trying.

“Yn.” His voice came out softer than he intended, carrying the weight of his apology and desperation.

You turned, visibly startled, and for a moment, your guarded expression flickered to something else. “Max, you—I—” you began, but the words caught in your throat, your gaze shifting away.

Max took a shaky breath, his words coming out in a rush. “I know I messed up, and I know it’s stupid and selfish of me to even think you’d want to talk after . . . everything.”

"Max," you breathed, as if it were something delicate, breakable. And he, Max, was very breakable, “. . . It’s not selfish,” You whisper, looking away. He sat beside you on the curb, facing the sea. Your eyes were trained on the waves, your expression unreadable. 

He felt the weight of your silence pressing down on him, forcing him to be honest. “You made me feel normal, Yn. Not like some trophy to be chased or some untouchable figure in motorsports,” he murmured, his voice cracking slightly. “Just . . . Max.

The raw vulnerability in his voice hit you hard, your heart twisting painfully at the sight of tears gathering in his eyes. It was strange seeing him like this—a man who had always seemed untouchable, guarded. And yet, here he was, baring his soul, admitting that he had needed something you never even knew you were giving.

Tears pricked your own eyes, a complex mixture of sympathy and sorrow welling up inside her. “You needed that, didn’t you?” you whispered, your hand instinctively reaching out to brush against his. “To feel like someone saw you—just you.”

Max’s fingers tightened around hers, the relief on his face palpable. “Yeah,” he said, his voice barely audible. “More than I ever thought I did.”

Her heart thundered as he continued, his words stumbling over each other. “You were there with me, everywhere, somehow; even when you weren’t there in person, it was as if I could just . . hold your hand. Like you . . .” he hesitated over his words, trying to find the correct collection, “Like I could just be myself around you,” he said, each word carrying a depth that reached into the quiet spaces of your soul. He paused, breathing heavily, and his blue eyes met yours, an intense vulnerability reflecting in them.

“And that’s not something I ever want to lose, Yn,” he admitted, the words pouring out before he could stop them. “I don’t ever want to lose you.” He pressed on his words, desperately, his hand cupping your cheek.

“It might sound weird, but . . . I fell for you. Every time I got to be ‘Amilian’ around you, I realized why would I want anything else. And when I got Max with you, I—I—” He chuckled with tears in his eyes—”now, I can’t be without you—not ever. It hurts now— being Amilian hurts now, ever since the day you woke up in my apartment and being him hurt. The call when you were at the airport, I felt like I was bleeding from my heart.”

“I don’t need him. I just need you. Because you showed me I can be Max and I can be happy. You showed me that Max can be happy. And Max wants to be happy..” If you were deaf and couldn’t lip read, you’d think that his facial expression was of an addict, begging for help. And maybe he was an addict, taking your other hand and holding it to his heart.

You bit your lip, struggling to contain the overwhelming urge to cry. You closed your eyes, leaning your cheek into his palm. His words wrapped around your heart, each one was like alcohol to the fresh wounds you hadn’t realized were there. You closed your eyes, pressing your cheek into his palm, feeling the warmth and steadiness he offered, grounding you in the midst of your vociferous emotions.

The silence between you felt heavy, yet filled with an unspoken understanding. You reached out, pulling him into a tight embrace, your arms circling around his back as if they had always belonged there. you felt his arms wrap around your waist, his warmth enveloping you completely, and in that moment, nothing else mattered.

“You’ll always be my ‘one million,’ though,” you whispered, your voice soft and trembling with the weight of everything you felt for him. He buried his face in your hair, A faint chuckle escaped him, and you felt it reverberate through you, grounding you in his presence.

Max held you tightly, as though you might disappear if he let go. You rubbed his back when he squeezed, letting him breathe in the reality of your words which echoed in his mind, and he was relieved. So relieved to be your Max Emilian, to be your one million.

“I’m so proud of you,” You whisper to him as he sobs into you.

So relieved.

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗪𝗜𝗥𝗘𝗗 𝗜𝗡? - part six max verstappen x reader (angst) “… when he wants to be normal, he can count on you, stranger.”

( fic master list | general master list ) ( requests ) ( previous | next )

"Let's start the bidding at $500,000. Do I have 500,000?" 

"500,000,"

"Thank you, 500,000. Do I hear 600,000? 600,000?"

You held back the urge to lean your head on your hand, leaning back in the chair and resting your hands on your lap instead. This wasn't your natural environment. Not a setting you were confident in.

But when your boss calls in sick; who better to replace him and represent your company, Cisco, for a few team-sponsored outings than you? Sure, you weren't a fan of fancy balls and expensive auctions, but you did like going to Silverstone for a free Grand Prix ticket. What's better than a paid week of vacation in the UK to socialize with rich people and watch a Formula One race free of charge?

"700,000," Lando called, raising his number. You chuckled softly at the unimpressed look Zak Brown gave his driver. You'd been sitting with the two McLaren team members and other sponsor representatives, after all, that was what you were here to do.

"You're going to finish all your money," Zak commented, gulping down his glass.

"Shh! I need that car," Lando hushed, concentrating on the auctioneer before raising his number and shouting a bigger number than the last person. "One point two million!"

You playfully rolled your eyes at the driver's competitiveness. Taking a sip from your champagne glass, you listen to Lando and two other people fight over the Ford Thunderbird. When Lando called a difficult two million you thought he'd finally take it home when there were no objections, until…

"Three million," you froze at the voice. It was one you've come to be very familiar with, one you've come to love chatting with while wearing headphones in your bed at night or sitting at your sim on weekends.

"Sold to the Gentleman—" you let the world around you blur as you pulled your phone out, glad that the brightness of your screen was at its lowest.

He didn't mention going anywhere when you chatted this morning. What would Amilian be doing here? You were sure it was his voice. It couldn't have been anyone else's. But what would bring him here?

It would make sense though. The Red Bull headquarters is in Britain and this is a motorsport event. Maybe he had been dragged out here in a similar situation to you. Or maybe he was here on his own accord for fun.

la. — I think I just heard your voice?? la. — Did you just buy an old red ford?

amilian. — ?? amilian. — What? Where are you? amilian. — nvm i see you

la. — where are you?????

amilian. — when the dance floor opens, stand aside and i'll come to you

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You read the message over and over again in your head as you stood aside, watching as people gathered to pile onto the dance floor as music started playing.

Your eyes desperately searched the attending faces for a face you didn't even know. The thought lingered in your head, would you be able to know your Amilian if you saw him? You were sure you would even if it sounds impossible.

Is Amilian a friend? He couldn't just be a friend. Did you feel more towards him? That's an insane thing to think. You haven't met before and have only conversed on the internet. You can't like a guy you met online.

What if he's been catfishing you this entire time? What if he's not your type? What if he is your type? What if he's tall and has a beautiful smile? What if his touch is just as gentle and soft as his voice— what if you're not his type?

"Champagne?" the voice came from behind you, accompanied by a gentle caress of your back. The chuckle that left his lips when you jolted in surprise sent a shiver down your spine. You could feel his smirk as he gently held the glass for you to take. It was definitely your Amilian.

You couldn't dare to turn and look. Instead, you silently took the champagne glass from his warm hands with a small anxious sip and looked at the crowd of dancing rich people.

It's when you feel his hand pull from your back and instead drape a necklace around your neck did you move confused. You touched the silver jewelry with confusion and recognition.

This was your necklace. The one you'd forgotten at Max's when you stayed the night at his apartment. How'd Amilian get it? Or were you so overconfident in your ability to recognize your Amilian that you forgot the fact that other people know you? Because apparently, you recognized wrong.

"Max, hi," You greeted with a blush once you'd turned to see who was there. "Thank you," You smiled, looking down at the necklace that completed your outfit.

Max felt his cheeks warm once he saw your soft smile. He felt the pain he's been feeling in his stomach for the past three months subside. A relief that he could only describe as the momentary relief addicts get during relapse. The firework-like euphoria in his heart made all the waiting worth it.

"I was going to give it to your boss to give it back to you," He says with a hand gesture, his other hand gently returning to the small of your back. "But I'm glad I got to return it to you myself," He smiled.

You smiled back, feeling your cheeks heat with a blush that you hoped the Dutchman didn't notice. "Thank you so much, Max. I owe you."

"Can't argue with that." Max felt his smile widen at your offer, his heart fluttering at the sound of your voice he's come to adore. "Maybe I could have this dance?" He took a step towards the ballroom feeling excitement rush through him.

Max couldn't believe that he'd get a chance to dance with you. He tried to keep his smile from getting too big or show the amount of excitement he was feeling. This felt like a dream come true, finally. Like a scene out of a Disney movie. The room was starting to disappear as he looked into your eyes, but the world returned into focus quickly once he saw you didn't step forward with him.

"I'm actually waiting for someone," You mumble, nervously twirling a strand of your hair around a finger.

Crack! Max felt his heart squeeze and a painful feeling rush in his chest and his stomach. He felt jealous, angry and in pain at the same time. Jealous of himself. Anger for putting himself in this situation and that Amilian existed. And pain from the fact that you preferred his alter-ego over him.

"Amilian, right?" He asked. You felt a wave of anxiousness at the way the excitement and joy washed from Max's body language, replaced by something you couldn't quite recognize, something dark and frustrated.

"How did you—" You stuttered in surprise, voice trailing off and eyes wide. Why wouldn't he know Amilian? They work together. Amilian literally got Max into baggy pants for you— "Y-you know Amilian?"

"Let's take a walk," Max suggested after a hesitant breath. His hand remained on your back as he gestured to a hall away from the crowds of people. You took a moment to think before letting his gentle and soft touch lead you away.

Your head is filled with confusion, embarrassment and uncertainty. Questions ran through your mind as your eyes looked at the hung paintings you passed. You feared that you'd left Amilian back there and he was looking for you. The halls were quiet as you walked with Max.

Was this a prank? Did the two boys team up to give you a scare? Did Max know something you didn't? Was Amilian chickening out and had told Max to come to you instead?

"You know, La, I like blue on you more."

Your body froze dead in your tracks once you heard the third word that passed his tongue and lips. Max froze in his spot two feet in front of you as well. He didn't dare to turn back and look at you. And you didn't dare look up at him. Only one person calls you that.

You could feel the Dutchman turn around, silence enveloping the hall as the beating of your heart got louder and louder.

"It's me," Max tried to say quietly. He tried to reach for your cheek and pulled his hand away quickly when you put your hands on your mouth. He could see your eyes widen with shock at his confirmation.

"I'm sorry, I meant to tell you—" You couldn't hear him ramble and try to explain himself. Your brain was working too fast trying to process and correct the past.

You criticized Max Verstappen's fashion choices in front of him. You sim-raced and played games with him. You vented about your work to him. Scratch all that. Max Verstappen has been your best friend for the past two years?

You have confided in the three-time world champion. Spilt your secrets to an important man like him. You have talked about him to his face, whether it's admiring or crushing on him or cussing him out for hogging wins. You confessed how you loved him because you saw yourself in him, to his ear. You've done so many things that made you feel so embarrassed.

And when Max tries to catch you as you turn and make a run for it, he quickly gives up as the world comes crashing on him and he starts going through withdrawal again. He watches you run and stumble on your heels before turning a corner for the exit.

Anguish and grief filled Max's chest, which he gripped tightly as tears fell from his eyes and silent sobs racked his chest.

proof reading credits to the amazing @classiclitfreak <3

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗪𝗜𝗥𝗘𝗗 𝗜𝗡? - part five max verstappen x reader (fluff) “. . . when he wants to be normal, he can count on you, stranger.”

( fic master list | general master list ) ( requests ) ( previous | next )

Max felt like he was going to throw up when he read your newest messag

y/n — call! i can't believe what just happened

He's just dropped you off at your hotel 5 minutes ago, at this point you should be in your room packing for your flight. The ducth was anxious for a several amount of reasons. He didn't think he could call you so soon without you recognizing his voice.

And two, the thought of logging in as Amilian again was making him feel like he's seriously sick. He can't go back to hiding behind a name and a fake profile. He wanted to be normal the way you were with him.

amilian — i can't speak, but i can listen if you still want to talk

Max was glad he was back in his apartment, phone disgarded on the floor with the unsent message as he threw up the creps you had made in the morning. He felt like shit. One, he was lying to you. Two, he felt like Amilian was an imposter in his life that was slowly eating him.

And three, he threw up the food that you put effort in and was so happy to eat. He stared at the half digested food, feeling like he was going to cry. He dreamed about eating your cooking for two years and a half and when he finally does he throws it up in addition to wasting food.

Max sat on the floor of the bathroom, wiping his mouth and flushing the toilet as he sent the message, the 'you're getting a phone call' icon appearing sooner than he'd like.

"I made a friend." You say relieved as soo as the man picked up. Max nodded to himself even though you couldn't see. "You were right about clubbing. I shouldn't have went alone." Something bad would've happened but it didn't thankfully." Max sighed in relief even though he knew the whole gist because he was there.

amilian — are you okay?

"Yeah, I'm okay." you breath out. "Someone stepped in." Max nodded again and wiped his eyes. "He uh, he's a good guy. He let me stay at his for the night and gave me a bed. I was passed out so he got his sister to put me in something comfortable. I'm . . . I really appreciate him."

amilian — im glad you're safe

amilian — where are you now?

"I'm in my hotel room." You sighed, putting the phone on speaker as you looked around your room. "My flight's in three hours so I have to leave in a few."

And now Max felt even worse. He didn't want you to leave and be so far again from him. Now that he's gotten a taste he want's the whole serving. He needs you in a way that pains him. His apartment that's empty for more than three quarters of a year felt even emptier once your lively energy showed him what could be.

he stayed silent, pressing the phone to his ear as he listened to you, wiping the occasional tear as one of his cats came to lay on his lap. At least he wasn't fully alone in this world.

Max has to put Amilian away. This is not right. He's lost touch of the real world.

( previous | next )

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗪𝗜𝗥𝗘𝗗 𝗜𝗡? - part four max verstappen x reader (fluff) “. . . when he wants to be normal, he can count on you, stranger.”

( fic master list | general master list ) ( requests ) ( previous | next )

"Hey, hey. It's ok." The man who you were unable to recognize tried to comfort you. "You're safe. You're okay." The blurry figure assured, gently pulling your hand that was covering your mouth and the other that was clutched to your chest in his hands.

"See, you're ok." His soft voice assured, his thumbs gently running over your knuckles to show you you were ok. You kept your blurry, tear-filled eyes on your hands, watching him turn your hands palm up and slowly count your fingers. "1, 2, 3," you quietly counted with him till your breaths evened and the ground stopped spinning.

"Do you know where you're staying?" He asked, gently wiping your cheeks and eyes dry. You shook your head no. "You don't know?" He was so gentle with you as if you were made of glass, brushing your hair from your eyes. You shook your head, grabbing his sleeve when he stepped back. You don't know why you did.

"You don't want to be alone?" The man asked further and you nodded hesitantly. You were too busy looking at the concrete floor to see Max's eyes soften and return your hesitant nod. The dutch had no idea what to do but he knew that he couldn't just leave you like this after someone tried to drag you away.

He was glad he found himself at the same club as you the night of the Monaco Grand Prix, celebrating the race. If he wasn't keeping an eye on you here and there, he wouldn't have noticed that the random guy who you'd made friends with was crossing some boundaries.

He'd jumped in and pushed the guy off and pulled you somewhere safe before anything could happen. And now he was carrying your sleeping body as he walked into his apartment building, struggling with the elevator and keys but he'd rather let you sleep.

When you woke up, it took a few seconds for your memories to click back. You'd let a stranger carry you, and you're assuming you're in his home. What confused you the most was the feeling that this person wasn't a stranger. Almost as if it was your Amilian. But that was impossible, Amilian isn't in Monaco. It must've been someone who sounds or talks like him.

Sitting up in the clearly expensive bed, you looked around the room. The blinds were drawn leaving slithers of light fighting to enter though the gap at the bottom. Your headache came crashing as if someone had hit you straight with a mallet. But you couldn't let that stop you, you had bigger issues to deal with.

Where are you? Whose house are you in? Should you greet this unknown person? Or should you just change and run for the front door? If you find the door.

And what are you wearing?! How'd you get into this?

You furrowed your eyes as you looked down at the Red Bull shirt, clearly confused because you for sure had worn a dress and the stiletto sandals you were excited about.

Your mind raced for a few minutes as you looked around the clearly owned-by-a-male room, trying to figure out the next steps. You could've very much been standing in the dark room for 30 minutes if the noise at the door didn't catch your attention.

Cracking the door to the bedroom, you found a cat looking back up at you just as scared and confused by your presence as you were. But this was a cat, that was a definite green flag. With the little courage you had, you stepped outside the room to search or scope or whatever. You had no idea what you were doing. But you had to at least draw a map, no?

A guy was definitely living here alone. His gaming setup had its own space with no traces of femininity. A woman wouldn't be too happy with such a huge gaming setup that would probably take all his attention. Three screens that are literally curved with a mini Red Bull fridge?

Not even you wanted a guy who probably spends all his time on his screens. But it was a cool set up for sure. Setting the cat down you took a closer look at the cockpit-like setup. This guy must've been a huge F1 fan because even had a replica of . . . Max's trophy. Oh.

"Sassy! That's not food! Well it is food— but not for you." You heard who you were dreading yet praying for call as he chased the other cat. Jimmy (you’re assuming), the other cat who was rubbing into your ankles, abandoned you in favour of his father. Who'd froze in his spot like a statue upon seeing you stare back just as awkwardly.

The two of you could've been standing there like statues for hours as far as you know. You were in deep internal shock, trying to process the fact that you were unable to break eye contact with the three time world champion that you take time to watch on your TV every weekend and were standing in his apartment. In his Red Bull shirt that he probably never takes off!

Holy shit! He was the one comforting you last night! He saw you all crying and weak and— you felt so embarrassed! So anxious! You could probably run out if you had the strength to cut eye contact.

Max on the other hand was praying that you didn't notice his heating face. When he asked his sister to help him help you get into something comfortable, he did not expect Victoria to put you in his team shirt that looks way too good on you. He wanted you to keep it on and wear it everyday.

"Did you?" you asked quietly, pointing to the shirt, silently asking if he changed you. The blond shook his head quickly, setting his cat down. 

"M-my sister was here so I asked her. If that's okay. I didn't want you to be uncomfortable." He clarified, scratching the back of his neck. You nodded briefly in thanks. The awkward silence dawned again.

He cut the silence the second time. "I was making breakfast." He cleared his throat, pointing to the kitchen. "I'm trying to make your favourite," He would tell you but Max Verstappen doesn't know your favourite food. He's not Amilian right now. He's the athlete you've been slowly growing fond of. He shouldn't have known you exist. But he does.

"I'm allergic to peanuts." You mumble and Max was so close to answering with "i know", instead he just nodded and told you he didn't possess any in the flat. You followed him to the kitchen seeing the half mess he had caused trying to gather ingredients. 

"Crepes." He muttered, looking through the online recipe. You purse your lips in thought, looking at the eggs, flour and vanilla (?) he was trying to collect.

"Can I?" You pointed to the kitchen and Max nodded, gesturing that it was all yours.

"Please." You took a deep breath looking around before starting to gather and mix while Max fed the two cats. "Wait 2 eggs?" The blond questioned, watching you crack a second. You nodded, with a little smile showing him the batter. "Oh, yeah. That makes sense." He nodded, looking in the bowl with a pause. ". . . Is it obvious that I have no idea what's going on?" You tried to hold in a chuckle at his confused expression.

"Kinda." You shrugged going back to adjusting the batter.

You'd soon enough relaxed around the man, seeing the soft and sunny side he really was all about. You found yourself cracking a smile or a giggle each time he made a little joke or comment, warming up to him.

You ate the crepes standing at the kitchen island with the blueberries he washed for you. You felt warm in this space, petting the cat that lazed on the counter for your head scratches. Never in your life did you imagine standing and eating crepes with Max in his apartment, wearing his shirt and no pants. You never even imagined breathing in the same room as him, but here you were.

Max felt the same way. His heart was beating so fast and he was scared his irises had turned into heart shaped from how much he was admiring and staring at you. You were so beautiful and calm with such an aura he would think you were an angel.

And to him you were. You are an angel. A gift. It might have taken some ice breaking, but you made Max feel human and normal. You made him feel as happy and sunny as when he's Amilian. Only now, he didn't want to go back to being Amilian.

Max didn't mention anything, he wanted things to stay as it was right now, playfully pushing you as you tried to do the dishes and push him away. The tug of war (more like push of war) lasted a few minutes with you winning and sending Max off.

It was 15 minutes later after Max freshened up did he find you playing with Sassy and cuddling with Jimmy, waving the stringed feather so the cat could chase while the other happily sat in your warm stomach. Your giggles and laughter were music to his ears. He felt so giddy just by seeing your smile, the same one he's been imagining for years now lighting up his world brighter than the sun and all the stars in the sky.

He didn't want to interrupt you. He wanted to keep you away from time so he could keep you, and spend time and have fun with you. He didn't want to let you go. He'd feel empty now that he got a taste of you. Max gently sat beside you, scratching Jimmy on your belly. You blushed watching him.

"You know, they've never been so comfortable with other people." He says looking into your eyes. You felt yourself blush deeper, looking between his two sapphire eyes. 

"I'm kind of a cat whisperer." you joke, pulling a smile and giggle from Max. The two of you looked into each other's eyes for a little, enjoying the moment.

"I really like you, Y/n. Maybe we can spend time like this again in the future?"

You were taken aback by the request. The question of how he knew your name long drifted from your brain, leaving a big smile and blush on your face as you nodded. 

credits to the lovely @classiclitfreak as always <3

( previous | next )

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗪𝗜𝗥𝗘𝗗 𝗜𝗡? - part three max verstappen x reader (fluff) “. . . when he wants to be normal, he can count on you, stranger.”

( fic master list | general master list ) ( requests ) ( previous | next )

He thought he’d forgotten how to breathe, standing in his spot with his hands in his pockets, looking up at the chalkboard menu. You'd think he was a statue with how little he was moving. But then again, you weren't aware of who you were standing next to you.

"Y/N? Can we explore for a bit?" the two college-aged boys asked, making you peel your eyes off the list of foods to the interns, Max would assume. Out of the corner of his eyes, the blond could see you check your watch before nodding. 

"Yeah, sure. There's plenty of time. Meet me back here in an hour and a half so we can head over to the circuit. Deal?" Oh, that was definitely your voice. You were his Y/n. The way you talked and your voice and accent. He could now put a face to your voice, no more profile pictures.

"Deal! Thanks, Y/n." "See ya, Y/n."

"Take care, guys." Max didn't expect to run into you so soon, or be this close to you at all, even. He watched as you waved to the two interns who excitedly jogged out.

Don't come off as a creep, Max reminded himself, shaking his head and taking a step forward in the direction of the register. He'll just act cool, normal. Get himself something to drink and sit down. That helped calm him down a little, just like any other indifferent person.

It's very unfortunate for Max that his inner peace never lasts so long. Not that it was a bad thing he bumped into you. There is nothing wrong with accidentally stepping forward at the same time as you. It's just not good for his heart. Max already has to meet fans today and get in the car for fp2 and 3. You're just making his brain go haywire a little too much that he feels his eyes are going to turn static and face turning the shade of Charles' Ferrari.

"Sorry." He tried to apologise, stepping back, feeling his body stiff and turning to stone. 

"Désolée," you went to apologise only to look up and meet eyes with the three time world champion. "oh- im so sorry."

"No, it's ok." Max smiled nervously, meeting your eyes for the first time, which honestly made him feel mesmerised.

"Here, you can go," you stepped back, offering the blond to step to the cashier. 

"No, no. Ladies first." he shook his head, cutting you off when you went to argue back. "—I insist."

Max was kind of disappointed that you felt so nervous and acted so polite upon recognizing him. He wished you would've treated him like normal, the same way you talk to him as amilian or the same way you would talk to a stranger who wasn't looking where he was going and bumped into you.

He knows it's not fair that he's pushing his expectations on you, though. Anyone would react the same way upon meeting a very important or famous person. Max just wished he was standing beside you in line instead of behind you. Having a friendly conversation, telling you how much you'll love the cheesecake.

He'll have to settle for sitting on a table not too far from you for now, sipping from his paper cup while scrolling through his phone.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

la — 'I bumped into Max 😓' 

Max himself, glanced up to where you were sitting, catching you looking away quickly, face turning a deep shade of red.

la — 'And now he thinks I'm stalking him!!' la — 'million help 😭😭'

Max chuckled slightly, feeling his heart ease. You were overthinking things. He wished he could sit beside you and pat your back until you calmed down. But he can't really do that, can he? Max calming you down after you get all nervous and anxious meeting him? The situation gets sadly funnier the further Max plays into it and thinks about it.

amilian — 'What did you do ⁉️' he sent back in the chat

la — 'I went to the café you told me about, and i think i accidentally stepped on his foot 😭😭' la —  'I ruined his shoes! And he needs his foot to drive the car!!!' la —  'He must hate me' la —  'He saw me looking at him too' la —  'Must think i’m a weirdo

"Not at all." He mumbled, a soft smile covering his face. You're just feeling anxious. He could care less about his shoes, and his foot is fine. He didn’t even realise you stepped on it. 'relax, deep breath' he sent, seeing you fill your chest and release as told.

amilian — 'you're fine' 'don't overthink things'

la — '🥺' You were actually pouting.

amilian — 'Do you want me to text him and apologise on your behalf?' 

A weird offer. Apologising to himself for you even though he wasn’t mad, but grateful he saw you today. 

la — 'NO!!!!' 'NO NO NO!' 

amilian — 'Do you want me to get you a pass for the meet and greet?'

la — 'THAT'LL MAKE IT WORSEEE'

amilian — 'Ok, ok' 

Max thought for a moment, sitting back. 'Count from one to ten' He was actually surprised that you did as told, listening to him, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath for ten seconds.

amilian — 'What did you order?' Start a conversation, comfort and distract her. He's good at that.

la — 'A mocha, the one you told me about'

amilian — 'You should try the cheesecake, the one with strawberry jam on top.' He typed back. 

la — 'I didn't see that on the menu?'

amilian — 'Trust me' amilian — 'You'll love it'

la — 'Ok, ok, i trust you a million' la — ‘But not right now’ la — 'I'll stop by after finishing with stuff at McLaren’ la — 'I'm not hungry rn’ la — 'Wish you were here'

amilian — 'Yeah, i'd be stealing that cheesecake from you' 

la — 'Don't you dare!! 😠'

Max chuckled, you were really expressive with your face as you typed. He saw you frowning to match the emoji, but there was still a hint of a smile. He liked that smile, he loved it. He loved you overall. 

You were real. If only Amilian was real. If only he could sit beside you and tease and joke with you. 

amilian — '🫵😏' amilian — 'Max texted me!'

la — 'WHAT?!!!!????!!' 

He could see you jump in your seat a little before trying to act cool even though it was clear you were anxious.

amilian — 'He texted me about a cute girllllll who he bumped intooooo' 

la — 'AMILIAN COME PICK ME UPP 😭'

He couldn't help the smile that curled on his face.

amilian — 'I’m joking, I’m joking' amilian — 'hahaha' He leaned back, sighing happily.

la — 'ofc you are' la — 'No way he thinks i'm cute'

amilian — 'I mean you dress up like it's fashion week' amilian — 'Compared to him, he could use some advice'

la — 'His outfit is actually not that bad today' la — 'Baggy white pants!!' la — 'And a blue shirt!!!!!'

amilian — 'Wow, you serious?' amilian — 'No way' He typed even though he is wearing that.

la — 'tbh it makes him look even more pretty'

amilian — 'Pretty?’ amilian — ‘He's a guy' 

la — 'What, a guy can’t be pretty?' la — 'Max is cute’ la — ‘Especially when he's having fun and smiling'

amilian — 'The guy looks like a gremlin.' He didn’t even realise he was smiling, feeling fuzzy inside. amilian — ’Sid the sloth, Netflix rerun’

la — 'Don't insult him!!' la — 'Take it back' la — 'He’s handsome and beautiful and amazing!' la — 'Any woman would be lucky to have him'

amilian — 'You just dug your own grave' amilian — 'I believe you fall into the *any woman* category'

la — 'No no no, pleasee' la — 'You'll embarrass me'

amilian —’That's my job’ amilian — 'I'll simply put in a good word for you'

la —'amiliaaaaaan 😭😭'

( previous | next )

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗪𝗜𝗥𝗘𝗗 𝗜𝗡? - part two max verstappen x reader (fluff) “. . . when he wants to be normal, he can count on you, stranger.”

( fic master list | general master list ) ( requests ) ( previous | next )

“Come on, you can’t say he has so much potential!” Max miserably tried to hold in his laughs as you continued your rant about how much better Max would look if he put a little more effort or thought in how he dressed. 

“I’m honestly starting to think he’s allergic to wearing anything . . . not Red Bull related. Like even in his streams! In his home!” 

Sitting in front of his laptop with a makeshift setup in the hotel room in Japan, Max found himself unwinding from the earlier media day when he gladly accepted to join you for a game of Fifa. It wasn’t until someone brought up Lewis’ outfit from this morning did you start your little ted talk. 

“La, please concentrate on the game, we’re losing!” he couldn’t stop laughing either so your team was toast either way. 

“No, because I bet he's wearing his Red Bull shirt right now wherever he is.”

The reason why Max was no longer able to hold it together was because he was indeed in a Red Bull shirt. He might actually take you up on being allergic to anything not associated with Red Bull.

“I’ll gladly design a few outfits for him, I swear!” 

“La-” Max put his face in his hands, shoulders shaking from laughter as his screen showed the opposing team scoring a goal. The dutch would usually feel frustrated if he were to be losing a Fifa game in any other situation, but not this one with you.

He's ready to lose and lose again, even give up his title as one of the world's top twenty Fifa players if he gets to spend time with you like this, laughing and joking; forgetting the world around, so it's just you and him.

Just two people . . . being people.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Since I have no one to show, you're stuck with me.” 

It’s kind of been a routine now, having a private call after a game or upon finding spare time. You two have gotten close. You even considered “amilian” to be a close friend, per say. A close friend who you regularly vent to about work or just randomly ask riddles or dad jokes to bother.

You enjoyed his company. He was a fun person to be around. He made you feel . . . yellow in a type of way too. You never felt left out or unheard. He always had time for you, it's like you were maybe gravitating to being more than close friends . . . it's not like you can do anything about it though.

Surely people make close friends online all the time. 

You stay up on your couch, scrolling through the settings of your laptop to show and rant despite having to get up in the morning. Max crossed his legs on his chair folding his arms and watching the screen as you messed around on your shared screen.

“La, it’s late.” He’s been trying to tell you for the past 10 minutes. It’s 6:30 in Japan, 7 hours ahead of the time in Paris, where you were. 

Not that he’s keeping track of the time where you were, it’s just that you shared the same time zone as Monaco, and he only had the GMT+2 clock displayed on his home screen because he needed to keep track of his cats . . .  not too make sure you got enough sleep or anything of that sort.

“It's only 11:30,” you shushed, pulling up pinterest. Max hung his head, trying to hold in his smile. “I could put together a whole outfit that would suit him right here and now,”

“La,” Max giggled watching you actually start to search and put things together. “I’ll make a deal with you, if you go to sleep, I'll try to get Max Verstappen in baggy jeans,” 

“WHAT?!” the blond flinched at the loud noise, looking around his hotel room to make sure no one heard anything -- despite him being alone. 

“You know I work in F1 right?” Max followed up, trying to hold in his smile at your silence. “La, you forgot?!” 

“I’m sorry!” you pleaded, holding your hands in a begging motion despite him not seeing anything.

Max put his hand on his chest and pretended to be offended when he was smiling really wide to the point his cheeks hurt. “My best friend doesn't know what I do for a living,” he gushed in fake hurt. 

Your mind blanked at the title. Best friend? 

“You do know what my job is, right, La?”

“. . .” You looked away embarrassed, you’ve known the guy for how long and don’t even know what his profession is. 

Max couldn’t stop his giggles. “Go to bed, La. I’ll get Max in baggy jeans for you.”

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Hey um, million?” 

“I thought I told you to go to bed?” Max chuckled, crouched in front of his suitcase, digging through it in hopes to find a pair of baggy jeans or a white shirt that he probably doesn't own. 

“I am in bed technically . . .” The blond looked over to his laptop on his desk, the call still going. “You work in F1,” Max felt his heart jump in anxiety for a second, there's no way you figured him out. 

“Yeah?”

 “Well um . . . my boss chose me to go see how things were going with McLaren at the Monaco gp,” 

The dutch perked up at your announcement. “Really? That's great!” 

“Y-Yeah, it is,” you stuttered, agreeing. you crossed your arms, looking at the email congratulating you on your phone screen. “I mean, I'm glad, this is an experience of a lifetime. I get to drag along a few interns with me as well.” Max frowned, your tone did not match with the news you were announcing.

“What's wrong?” He got up, sitting on the desk chair, looking at your profile picture, the concern was clear in voice, as if you could feel him sitting beside you on your bed and gently rubbing your back to comfort you. 

“Well, I don't have anyone to go with - the interns don't count . . . and I don't know anyone in Monaco or the attendees-- except you technically . . . I haven’t been on my own for that long before,” you sighed.

Max furrowed his eyebrows, trying to decipher what you were asking of him.

“Is it-” you cut yourself of with a sigh. “Can I hang out with you sometime? During the weekend?” Max stayed silent, feeling his heart pounding to the point he was scared the organ would explode out of his chest. 

“I mean,” Max cleared his throat to hide the crack in his voice that arose from the anxiety he was drowning in. “I’m not traveling with the team every weekend, so I'm not sure if I'm going to be in Monaco . . . I’ll have to ask my boss.” he replied quietly and slowly, trying to comfort you still. “There’s still a few weeks before Monaco, so . . . I don’t know for sure.” He whispered, scratching the back of his head.

He was digging himself a grave. Asking Horner if he’s going to be in Monaco when he is the driver and already lives in Monaco? It’s too late now to be honest about who he is, he dug this hole himself and now he’s stuck in it.

It’s not like he can be like ‘oh, yeah of course you can hang out with me. Oh, I’m Max Verstappen by the way, the guy who’s driving the best car and winning all the races, so I can get you VIP tickets and a hot lap too if you want.’

“I’ll try my best to be there,” the blond whispered. You could almost feel him brushing your hair comfortingly. “We can get ice cream or go sightseeing. I know this really good cafe you’ll like . . .” Max will just have to keep digging his hole.

proof reading credits to the lovely and amazing @classiclitfreak <3

( previous | next )

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗪𝗜𝗥𝗘𝗗 𝗜𝗡? - part one max verstappen x reader (fluff) “. . . when he wants to be normal, he can count on you, stranger.”

( fic master list | general master list ) ( requests ) ( next )

One of the things Max Verstappen despises about being Max Verstappen is being Max Verstappen. Three time world champion, youngest race winner, mad max, f1 dominator, all the fame and media and people following him around. It's very hard to get a moment of peace or be treated normally. When people hear his name they either put on big smiles or ugly frowns. He hates the special treatment.

He misses when he could have a conversation without people recording or judging him. Without people whispering about him, or fake being his friend for whatever fame. When people would just spend time with him for the sake of spending time, or having a conversation for the sake of friendly socialization and conversation. Luckily though for the Dutch, in this day and age, Max could just enter a spare email in Discord and make a second lowkey account.

The pfp was a random photo of Max, a meme. Lowkey enough, Max decided after staring at the profile long enough before opening DiscoBoard. After scrolling and searching, he was dawned upon with a relatively small server with only 280 people online, surrounding sim racing. After he followed instructions on the welcome page like verifying he's not a robot and picking roles, he got his first ping. 

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Max met you in August of 2022. The way you talked and messed around with him got him constantly checking his phone for notifications over the next months. The way you befriended him and were relaxed around him once the two of you got to know each other, it kept him sane. And although Max didn't really reveal a lot about himself except that his work required a lot of traveling and effort, you trusted him enough to share about your own life up in France, ranting about your weird encounters as an employee at Cisco.

The blonde’s favorite part about getting home was plopping in his gaming chair and switching his Discord accounts. Pulling his headphones on and navigating through the server, he joined the active voice chat. It was as if he was switching lives, turning off Max Verstappen to be an irrelevant 26 year old.

“A millioooon.” you sang like you always did, a nickname you’d given him since amilian sounded like a million. 

“Laaaaa.” Max sang back with a chuckle before greeting the other acquaintances present on the call. 

“How was your weekend?” You hummed. 

“Same as always. Maybe a bit shittier this time.” He sighed, seeing you were on Gran Turismo from your shared screen. 

“I’d love to beat up someone for you.” You always offer when he’s down. The blonde would laugh and shake his head even though you can’t see. You never cease to bring him a smile with your tone and jokes and hearty aura, despite being kilometers up north. "We're waiting for Josh to take a few rounds around spa, you wanna join?" 

"Oh, yes please." friendly racing with no consequences, points or championship? just friends messing around and enjoying themselves? Yes please.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"You see the new verstappen photos that just dropped, Mr. Max Verstappen nerd?" Max looked up from his phone, eyebrows furrowed as he looked at your dm chat where the two of you decided to move the call once everyone else put down the steering wheel for the night.

"This one is from Bahrain I think . . . you know, I'm starting to take a liking to him." Max rolled his eyes playfully at your words. "To be honest, I was kind of disappointed this weekend." Max rubbed his eyes, looking up at your profile picture. 

"Why what happened?" He asked even though he probably knew all too well the events of the Australian grand prix.

"Max DNFed on the third or fifth lap." You sighed. 

"Oh yeah?" Max hummed, pursing his lips, not wanting to recall the memories. "What's so bad about that? I thought you were a die hard Charles fan?" he asked. 

"Excuse you, I'm a die hard Fernando fan." You joked in a sassy tone which pulled a chuckle from him.

"What is it about Max DNFing that is bothering you then?" Max himself asked, putting his phone down to concentrate on your voice. 

"I just don't—" you sighed deeply. On your end of the call you rolled back in your chair, getting up and flopping on your bed with your phone in hand.

When you did answer his question, all Max heard was mumbles because your voice was muffled by your pillow. "Can't hear you, La. Aren't you happy about the Carlando podium? You were so happy about it last year." 

"I am happy, I am. But Max . . . well Max . . . i don't know." you grumbled frustrated. "He's such a good driver, and deserves a lot— he works really really hard."

Max never thought he'd hear you talking about him like that. He'd usually hear other people on the server dissing him and cursing him. And although you were always mostly neutral with the drivers, the way you spoke about Max tonight melted his heart. It also felt very wrong.

While you turned and laid on your back, staring up at the ceiling of your room, venting your feelings about a driver who you thought didn't know you existed, said driver folded his arms on his desk and leaned forward, resting his chin on his arms listening to you vent about how much you were amazed and proud even though you don't know him personally or him not being your favorite driver.

Max glanced up at his monitor as you sighed to gather your thoughts. "Sometimes when i look at him, he reminds me of myself. I never really got to go past karting, but for some reason I see a little bit of y/n in him." 

"—Y/n?" He sat up hearing the name. 

"I—" You face palmed upon the realization.

 "Is that your name?" Max asked. You nodded briefly with a sigh but he couldn't see.

"Unfortunately." You sighed. "Weird name, I know—" 

"I like it." He reassured. "It's not like Amilian is any better." he tried to lighten the mood, working slightly. 

"A million." you giggled making him chuckle back. 

"A million, " he repeated quieter, a small smile on his face as he leaned his chin back down on his arm.

Such a foolish thing to do, taking a liking to a woman you've never met.

Voice notes . . . ( my brain is like a zoo rn, starting projects and not being able to track anything while working on everything at the same time ) Word count - ( 1, 165 ) credits for proofreading -> @classiclitfreak (check out their blog!!)