#MV33

[georgiasbrainstuff]

I can't stop laughing at his stupid face (said affectionately)

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗟𝗢𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗦𝗖𝗥𝗘𝗘𝗡 max verstappen x finace! reader ( fluff ) fic summary . . . max had never thought you had spoken dutch, not a day throughout your long relationship and engadment had you mentioned speaking his language, and when he finds out at a gasstation, max.exe has successfully stopped working (683 words)

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

The hum of the car filled the air as you and Max cruised down the highway, the Dutch coastline fading in the rearview mirror. The road trip from Zandvoort to his home in Belgium was mostly smooth, save for Max’s insistence that he was the designated driver for the entire journey.

Somewhere along the way, the fuel gauge dipped low, and you made a quick stop at a gas station off the highway.

"I'll go in and grab some snacks," you said, stretching as you stepped out of the car.

"I'm coming with you," Max declared, unbuckling himself hastily.

You raised an eyebrow. "Why? You scared I'll leave you here?"

Max shot you a flat look. "Not funny."

You instantly regretted the joke. You knew about that story—how his dad had left him at a gas station when he was younger. Max didn't talk about it much, but it wasn't exactly a mystery.

"Sorry," you murmured.

Max sighed, shaking his head. "It's fine. Let’s just get snacks."

Inside the small convenience store, you browsed the aisles, grabbing a couple of things—a pack of stroopwafels, some chips, and, of course, a can of Red Bull. Max trailed behind you, throwing in his own choices (which were essentially the same as yours but his version).

At the counter, the cashier greeted you with a polite smile.

"Dat wordt twaalf vijfennegentig," she said, scanning your items.

You handed over a bill, offering a casual, "Dank je wel," as you waited for the change.

Max, beside you, went completely still.

Frozen.

As if someone had hit pause on his entire existence.

You barely noticed at first, stuffing the snacks into a bag. But then you glanced over—Max hadn’t moved an inch, eyes wide, brain clearly buffering like a bad WiFi connection.

"Max?"

No response.

Sighing, you grabbed his shirt by the collar, dragging him towards the exit while he remained utterly unresponsive.

"Kom op, Verstappen," you muttered, shoving him into the passenger seat.

The silence stretched as you got back onto the highway, but you could feel him staring at you, completely stunned.

Then, out of nowhere—

"JIJ SPREEKT NEDERLANDS?!"

You nearly swerved off the road.

"Uh . . . I did? You were there?"

Max made a strangled noise, somewhere between disbelief and betrayal. "SINDS WANNEER?!"

You shrugged. "My whole life?"

"Mijn God." He ran a hand down his face, shaking his head. "Al die jaren…"

You side-eyed him. "What?"

"Al die jaren heb ik tegen je gepraat in het Engels terwijl ik gewoon Nederlands kon gebruiken?!" (All these years I've been talking to you in English when I could’ve just used Dutch?!)

You snorted, amused. "Well, yeah, but I didn't think it was important."

"NIET BELANGRIJK?!" (Not important?!) His voice cracked in sheer frustration. "Weet je hoeveel makkelijker mijn leven had kunnen zijn?!" (Do you know how much easier my life could have been?!)

You grinned, biting your lip to keep from laughing. "I mean… you never asked if I spoke Dutch."

"Waarom zou ik vragen?! Ik dacht dat je het niet kon!" (Why would I ask?! I thought you couldn’t speak it!)

You drummed your fingers on the steering wheel, the smugness in your expression only fueling his meltdown. "And?"

"EN?! EN?!" (And?! And?!) He threw his hands in the air. "Ik heb zoveel gênante dingen in het Nederlands over je gezegd!" (I’ve said so many embarrassing things about you in Dutch!)

Now that caught your interest.

You glanced at him. "Oh ja? Wat precies?" (Oh yeah? What exactly?)

Max clamped his mouth shut immediately, face flushing.

"Nee, laat maar." (No, never mind.)

"Oh, nu wil je Engels praten?" you teased.

"O mijn god, dit is de ergste dag van mijn leven," (Oh my god, this is the worst day of my life) Max groaned, slumping dramatically into his seat.

Grinning, you reached for your Red Bull and took a victorious sip. "I think it's the best."

[lost-in-fandoms]

Max at Jeddah Corniche Circuit on April 19, 2025 by Alex Pantling

[rose24207]

Hi, I was wondering if you could write something for this ask please. You’re the social media manager and with Red Bull recently promoting yuki you’re trying to make Yuki comfortable and get h to film content. So yuki is attached to your hip basically and then other members of the grid have taken a liking to you. One day will filming content on the grid max was passing and saw how close you and yuki were and got jealous. At the same time Carlos came up and was trying to ask you out. You can write something about how jealous max confronts you.

Thank you 😊

"Problem?" "Not yet"

Summary: As Red Bull’s social media manager, you’ve become Yuki’s safe space—and now everyone on the grid wants your attention, including one very possessive Max Verstappen.

Max Verstappen x pr!reader

Navigation

You weren’t expecting to become Yuki’s emotional support human, but ever since Red Bull promoted him, that’s exactly what happened.

“I don’t want to film this alone,” Yuki said for the third time that day, arms crossed like a stubborn child as the videographer set up behind the hospitality tent.

You smiled, tugging your headset down around your neck. “You won’t be. I’ll stand just off-camera, alright?”

“Too far,” he grumbled.

You laughed, bumping your shoulder against his. “Then I’ll stand barely off-camera. Deal?”

Yuki looked up at you with those impossibly wide eyes. “Fine. But if I mess up, it’s your fault.”

You didn’t mind. In fact, over the last few races, Yuki had become like a little brother—always hovering near your desk, asking what kind of TikToks were trending, or stealing your snacks during media days. You chalked it up to the stress of the promotion. New team. New pressure. New expectations.

And maybe… the comfort of someone who never saw him as just a driver.

What you didn’t expect was how many of the other drivers suddenly noticed you.

You blamed the behind-the-scenes video that went viral last week—where Yuki refused to let go of your arm during an interview setup, and fans lost it over the way you patiently helped him adjust his mic.

Now your DMs were a minefield, and every other person in the paddock wanted to “film content” with you.

Including Carlos Sainz.

It was a sunny afternoon in Melbourne, just before qualifying. You were walking with Yuki through the paddock, prepping for a “Rate That Grid Fit” video. Yuki, as usual, was glued to your side, tossing sarcastic commentary your way while you adjusted your camera settings.

Then Carlos appeared.

“Hola, Y/N,” he said, flashing that annoyingly charming smile.

You blinked. “Hey, Carlos. Nice fit today—”

“Gracias,” he said smoothly, then turned to Yuki. “Mind if I steal her for a second?”

Yuki narrowed his eyes. “Yes.”

You snorted. “Yuki—”

“I don’t trust the William drivers,” he mumbled.

Carlos rolled his eyes. “I’m not trying to sabotage her.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Yuki muttered, arms crossed.

Carlos ignored him and looked at you again, this time more serious. “Actually, I was wondering if you’d want to get dinner later tonight. After quali.”

You froze.

Yuki blinked up at you. “Dinner?”

You stared at Carlos. “Are you serious?”

He smiled again. “Completely.”

Before you could answer, a third voice cut in—low, flat, and laced with irritation.

“You’re pretty popular today, huh?”

You turned, heart jumping slightly.

Max Verstappen stood a few feet away, arms crossed, unreadable expression on his face.

Oh boy.

You hadn’t interacted much outside of race weekends and Red Bull content. Max was always professional, quiet, intense. But lately… something had shifted.

You’d caught him watching you a few times when you were with Yuki. Lingering glances. Sharp stares. Silent brooding from across the garage when you laughed too hard at one of Daniel’s jokes.

You raised an eyebrow. “We’re filming content, Max. Don’t start.”

“I’m not starting anything,” he said coolly, though his eyes flicked to where Carlos still stood—too close for Max’s liking.

Carlos lifted a brow. “Problem?”

“Not yet,” Max said flatly.

You exhaled, annoyed. “Okay. Testosterone break over. Carlos, I’ll get back to you. Max—Yuki and I have a shoot to finish.”

But Max didn’t move.

He just stared you down with those piercing blue eyes until the others slowly drifted off—Carlos with a wink and Yuki muttering something about “drama queens.”

Now it was just you and Max behind the media pen, the noise of the paddock muffled by the tent walls.

“What the hell was that?” you demanded.

His jaw flexed. “You tell me. You’re the one letting half the grid line up to flirt with you.”

“Letting?” you echoed, stepping closer. “I’m working, Max.”

“With Yuki hanging off your shoulder like a puppy?”

“He’s adjusting to a new team. I’m helping him feel comfortable. That’s my job.”

Max scoffed. “You do that with Carlos too? Over dinner?”

You stared at him, stunned. “You’re actually jealous.”

He didn’t answer.

Because he didn’t have to.

You saw it all over his face.

The clenched fists. The tightened jaw. The way his eyes dropped to your mouth when you spoke—hungry and frustrated, like he wanted to bite the words off your tongue.

“You don’t get to act like this,” you said quietly. “Not when you’ve never once made your feelings clear.”

“I didn’t think I had to,” he growled.

Your pulse spiked. “Well, you do. Because I’m not a mind-reader, Max. And if you’re going to stand there acting like I’ve wronged you somehow, you better say what you really mean.”

He stepped forward, crowding you until your back hit the tent post.

“I don’t like seeing other drivers touching you,” he said lowly.

“Then do something about it.”

There was a long pause.

Then—

He kissed you.

Hard.

One hand cupped your jaw, the other gripping your waist as he kissed you like he’d been holding back for months. You gasped against his mouth, your fingers curling into his shirt, and he groaned into the kiss like he was finally breathing again.

When he pulled back, his eyes were dark.

“I should’ve done that the first time I saw you,” he muttered.

You were breathless. “You’re lucky I don’t slap you for being an ass.”

“I’d deserve it,” he said with a smirk. “But then I’d kiss you again.”

You laughed, head spinning.

Max Verstappen. Jealous. Possessive. Hungry.

And apparently, very done with watching from a distance.

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @ipushhimback, @ladyoflynx, @lewishamiltonismybf, @cmleitora, @same1995, @amatswimming, @llando4norris, @dr3wstarkey, @hurtblossom, @ernegren, @esposamultifandom, @darleneslane

[viusen]

On today's episode of yurifying my driver's we have Max 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

Another version that did not make the final cut 😔(it's so hard to decide on Max's hair ngl)

Without the devil tail too I have so many versions which I can't decide on posting or not😭🙏

[f1archives]

19/04/25 (📷 Kym Illman)

[norristrii]

HELP APPRECIATED.

Your brother Lando has a knack for teasing you, especially when it comes to padel matches. But when his friend, Max, steps in to support you and help turn the tables, the dynamic shifts—giving you the perfect chance to prove Lando wrong.

pairing. Max Verstappen x Norris! fem! reader.

warnings. annoying older brother Lando (again, but we love).

For my newfound friend @haniette 🫶🏻 love you girlie!!

LANDO KNEW—oh, he absolutely knew—how much you loathed going with him to play padel. It wasn’t the sport itself; you actually enjoyed it when it was with your girls, the laughter and camaraderie making it fun. But with Lando? In front of his friends? That was an entirely different story. He thrived on teasing you, poking fun in ways only an older brother could. It was borderline humiliating, but somehow you always got roped into it.

And now, here you were. The padel court was alive with the sound of sneakers squeaking against the floor and the thwack of balls hitting the racket. Max and George were there too, their easy banter filling the air while Lando shot you an all-too-smug grin. The question lingered in your mind: Why did I agree to this? It wasn’t money—that was for sure. It wasn’t sibling love either; let’s be real, Lando’s idea of sibling love involved making you his personal entertainment.

No, you were here for one simple reason—you wanted him to shut up. You wanted him to stop his nagging, his comments, his relentless pestering about coming to play “just once.” And if enduring an hour of him flaunting his supposed skills in front of his friends was the price to pay for peace, well… so be it.

Teamed up with George, you quickly realized he had drawn the short straw. Lando was relentless, targeting you with every shot as if the game were a personal vendetta. The ball zipped toward you time and again, leaving you scrambling to keep up. It wasn’t just padel at this point—it was a one-sided showdown, and Lando was thoroughly enjoying himself.

“Come on, Y/n!” Lando teased after yet another missed return, his grin so smug it was almost criminal. George shot you a sympathetic look, muttering something about how impossible it was to defend against Lando when he was this focused on being a menace.

The score kept climbing, and not in your favor. You were losing—rapidly and spectacularly. But through all the chaos, you couldn’t help but let out a breathy laugh. It was frustrating, yes, but it was also so Lando. His ability to turn even a friendly padel game into his personal theater of mischief was almost admirable.

“Is this payback for something?” you called out, trying to match his banter despite the sweat forming on your brow.

“Maybe,” Lando replied with a smirk, effortlessly returning another shot. “Or maybe I just like seeing you try.”

Poor George, indeed. He deserved a medal for putting up with this, and you were going to owe him a drink after this for sure.

Max waved his racket dramatically, his exasperation clear as he took in the situation. “What about changing teams?” he suggested, his tone laced with playful disbelief. It was obvious he’d noticed your struggle, and maybe—just maybe—he was trying to save you.

You sighed, tossing a glance at George, who was already chuckling. “Yeah, George deserves to win at least once,” you replied, the humor in your voice lightening the moment.

But then Max chimed in again, his suggestion catching you off guard. “I’ll be with Y/n,” he said confidently, and you froze. The words echoed in your head, and you felt your cheeks heat up almost instantly. Because, truth be told, you’d always had a little thing for Max—a crush that had lingered quietly for longer than you cared to admit.

And, of course, Lando noticed. He always noticed. He had that infuriating ability to see right through you, to catch on to even the smallest hints of vulnerability or emotion you tried to keep hidden. You didn’t even have to look to know he’d clocked your reaction, storing it away as ammunition for later. This was just another golden reason for him to tease you mercilessly once you got home.

Max stood beside you, his presence impossibly magnetic as he shot you one of those grins—charming, effortless, the kind that made your knees weak. You could feel your heart race, the flutter of nerves threatening to pull your focus entirely away from the game. Across the court, Lando watched with an expression that screamed l know exactly what’s going on here. His knowing look was equal parts teasing and mischievous, and you knew you’d never hear the end of it later.

Max began explaining tactics, his voice confident yet patient as he gestured with his racket, pointing out positions and strategies. His energy was focused, but yours… yours was entirely elsewhere. You were too busy taking him in—the way his eyes lit up as he spoke, the way his enthusiasm made him so impossibly endearing. You nodded along, pretending to absorb his words, but in truth, they barely registered. You were a little too captivated, lost in the sheer of him.

The game ahead didn’t matter. In that moment, it was just you, Max, and the chaotic, undeniable realization that maybe your crush wasn’t as inconspicuous as you’d hoped. And judging by Lando’s smirk across the court, he wasn’t missing a single second of the drama unfolding. Oh, he was going to milk this for all it was worth.

Suddenly, your game took a dramatic turn for the better. The shots you missed before were now connecting effortlessly, and your energy seemed to shift entirely. You couldn’t quite pinpoint the reason—was it the fact that Max was next to you, his presence calming and motivating all at once? Was it the way he encouraged you with subtle tips and grins that felt like small victories? Or maybe it was pure determination, driven by the desire to show off, to prove that you weren’t just here to flounder under Lando’s relentless teasing.

Or, let’s be honest—it could have just been the burning need to get through the game and finally go home.

Whatever it was, you felt the momentum change as each shot landed, Max offering the occasional “Nice one!” or “That’s the way!” with a grin that sent your heart fluttering. Even Lando seemed taken aback for a moment, his teasing replaced with a slightly furrowed brow as he realized you weren’t giving him the easy victory he’d hoped for.

“Wow, Y/n, what’s gotten into you?” Lando asked, his voice laced with breathless disbelief as he wiped the sweat from his brow, clearly struggling to keep up with your sudden surge of skill.

You barely spared him a glance, shrugging with an air of nonchalance. “Luck,” you replied, pausing briefly before adding, “or help,” and shot a quick smile at Max, who chuckled beside you. The subtle compliment didn’t go unnoticed, and judging by Lando’s narrowed eyes, it fueled his competitive streak even further.

Gripping your racket, you adjusted your stance, ready for the next hit. The game wasn’t over yet, but you were more than prepared to show Lando—and maybe Max too—that you weren’t backing down anytime soon.

The final hit landed perfectly, sealing the win for you and Max. The cheers erupted, and before you could fully process what had just happened, Max was rushing toward you, his face lit up with excitement.

“Yes, Y/n!” he shouted, his voice filled with unrestrained joy. Before you knew it, his arms were around you, pulling you into a tight hug. The next thing you felt was your feet leaving the ground as he lifted you slightly, his laughter mixing with yours. “You did it,” he said, his grin so wide and genuine that it made your heart skip a beat.

From the sidelines, Lando rolled his eyes dramatically, but the small, amused smirk playing on his lips betrayed him. “Don’t let it go to your head,” he called out, but the teasing couldn’t dampen the electric moment between you and Max. Winning had never felt quite this good.

“I fear that’s it for today,” you said with a playful smile, slinging your racket over your shoulder. Lando groaned dramatically, rolling his eyes before striding off the court, muttering something under his breath about needing a rematch. Classic Lando.

But you and Max lingered, the energy between you softening as the adrenaline of the game faded. The two of you stood there, just looking at each other, smiles tugging at your lips. “Thank you for the help,” you said, your voice carrying a warmth that matched your grin.

As you turned to leave, Max moved closer, draping his arm around your shoulders with an easy confidence that sent your pulse racing. Flirting? Oh, there was no mistaking it—he was absolutely flirting. And you couldn’t help but let it happen, your stomach doing little flips as he leaned in slightly.

“What about us going to play padel alone some next time?” he asked, his voice low and inviting, a hint of mischief in his tone.

You blinked, caught off guard for only a moment before a smile broke across your face. Alone? Just the two of you? Suddenly, padel seemed a lot more appealing. This was going to be interesting.

“Yeah, but I still suck at this stupid sport—or whatever it even is,” you said with a laugh, shaking your head in mock defeat.

Max grinned, his confidence unwavering. “Don’t care,” he replied, his tone light but determined. “I’ll teach you.”

The way he said it, so effortlessly sure, made your heart skip a beat. It wasn’t just the words—it was the way he looked at you, like he genuinely believed you could conquer the court with him by your side. Maybe padel wasn’t so bad after all. Or maybe it was just Max making it feel that way.

“Stop flirting!” Lando’s voice rang out dramatically as he turned around, his tone halfway between annoyance and entertainment.

Max didn’t even flinch, rolling his eyes as if this was just another typical Lando moment. “He should shut up sometimes,” Max muttered under his breath, his voice dripping with exasperation.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the moment too absurd not to enjoy. “That would be really nice,” you replied, shooting Max a grin.

Even as Lando stomped away, likely plotting his next round of teasing, you felt that lightness in the air—the perfect blend of chaos, camaraderie, and just a hint of something more. With Max beside you, you could tell this was going to be far more interesting than any game of padel.

As you walked towards Lando’s tiny Fiat Jolly, parked with its quirky charm, you spotted him waiting with an expression that screamed "disappointed dad." Arms crossed, brows furrowed—it was as if he were channeling every ounce of parental annoyance into that one look. You couldn’t help but smirk; his dramatic flair never failed to amuse.

Max caught up with you just before you reached the car, pulling you into a warm hug that sent a flutter through your chest. His lips brushed softly against your cheek, a barely-there sensation that lingered far longer than it should have. You could feel the heat creeping up your face, and in the corner of your eye, you saw Lando rolling his eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t fall out of his head.

“See you later, Y/n,” Max said, his voice low and smooth, the kind of tone that made promises out of simple goodbyes.

You smiled, your voice carrying a hint of something more. “I’m really looking forward, Max.”

Sliding into your seat next to Lando, you barely had time to get settled before he shot you one of his trademark smirks, already loaded with teasing. The Fiat buzzed to life, its tiny engine rumbling as the city lights blurred into motion. You braced yourself, knowing full well that Lando’s commentary would start as soon as you hit the first corner. And yet, a small smile tugged at your lips—you wouldn’t trade this chaos for anything.

Lando’s voice cut through the hum of the car engine, his tone dry and pointed. “Did you enjoy flirting with my friend?” he asked, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, not even sparing you a glance.

You shrugged, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Actually, yeah,” you replied casually, the humor in your voice unmistakable. “I’m sorry your love life is shit,” you added with a laugh, knowing full well the rumors swirling around him were as entertaining as they were ridiculous.

“Haha,” Lando mocked your laugh, his sarcasm sharp but not unexpected. You could tell he was gearing up for a comeback, but your attention shifted as your phone buzzed in your lap. Glancing down, you saw Max’s name light up the screen.

can hear him complaining even from here. i’m excited to see you again ;)

[gr4cier4cie]

♡ runnin' with my dress unbuttoned ♡

or: the driver's aren't so calm, cool, and collected when you show up to the paddock wearing a pretty little dress. emphasis on little. featuring: lewis hamilton, max verstappen, lando norris, kimi räikkönen ♡

warnings: sexual innuendo!

♡

[livwritessometimes]

Girlfriend 💗🎀🌸🦩

: Part 9 (Max's Version)

: Who would have thought a surprise visit would lead to this…

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[georgiasbrainstuff]

OSCAR WAS NOT GOING TO BE IGNORED AGAIN!!

[givemebackmypills]

mama's boy

[lost-in-fandoms]

Max at the Jeddah Corniche Circuit on April 17, 2025 by Giuseppe Cacace

[smoothoperator81]

boys to men

lestappen over the years | national anthem edition

[theonottsbxtch]

MAX VERSTAPPEN MASTERLIST | MV1

codes: ✦ angst

ONE SHOTS:

miss you baby | gf!reader summary: while max may be an aggressive on track, there is one thing that most don't know and that's how much of a love sick sap he is for his girlfriend. his whole world revolves around her. and when she's not around, he feels it a lot. so when she couldn't make it to brazil, the only thing he could do was pout, until...

mi novio, max verstappen | mexican!reader summary: how crazy of a thing would it be to introduce your long term boyfriend to your mexican family during christmas out of all times?

baby, baby | fiance!reader summary: max's performance is waivering a tiny bit, and people are confused at how the 3x world champion is struggling. but little do they know. it's because of a little one.

forever and always | military!max summary: if max had to count how many people had stuck with him his whole life, he'd only have to lift a pinky. there was only her, always her who stuck beside him, even when he went off to the military.

don't wanna be saved | mob boss!max summary: she'd gotten good at escaping her past, at covering up her tracks. but when a good looking single father with enough money to end her problems comes for dressage sessions for his daughter, she struggles to hide her secrets. and one thing she doesn't want, it to be saved.

my peace | bestfriend!max summary: growing up, max wasn't allowed friends. but she had managed to sneak into his life. no matter how many times jos told him he didn't deserve her. when he wanted the world to go quiet, only one person could do that, and that was his best friend.

my birthday, my love | gf!reader summary: it's understandable to forget a birthday, especially when you're a formula one driver. but next never would. he's too good for that.

marne la vallee | war deserter!max summary: the war took so much out of people and it took so much out of max, that's why he fled. fled south to france, where he met her. the woman of his dreams. but not everything is fair in love and war.

teen idle | stranger!reader summary: the pressure of being a driver and becoming generational talent wasn't easy, which is why max liked the idea of going incognito sometimes, meeting people who didn't know his name, or recognise his accent. he liked it when life was quiet.

serve | tennis player!reader summary: she'd heard it all by now, how max was nothing but a distraction. and while she was good at shutting out the noise, sometimes it was good to shut them up for good.

SERIES:

the princess and the driver | princess!reader summary: her whole life all she's known is duty and how to be the perfect princess, but sometimes she yearns for freedom. and to her, that freedom came in the form of a boy by the karting track with a twinkle in his eye and a soft accent.

part one | part two | part three | part four | completed

whats left behind | barrell racer!reader x bull rider!max summary: when max had the chance to make it big, he took off and left his small town and girlfriend behind in the rearview mirror of his truck. he made a name for himself but now he's not quite sure he's happy with that so he comes back. but if there is one thing the town doesn't forget, it's their grudges.

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | completed

preacher’s daughter | catholic!reader summary: her family was the perfect picture of what a catholic family should look like, everyone but her family knew what happened behind closed doors, until max found out. until max did something about it.

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | final part | completed

99 problems | single dad!reader summary: max, multi wdc owner, multi millionaire, mul- father? that wasn't supposed to happen. nor was having an 18 year old dumped on his door step. max isn't used to this, he doesn't know how it works, so is it bad if he lets him live a little? part one | part two - completed

foggy memories | spy!max summary: all his life, all max can remember is working as a spy for this agency. he's one of the best in his field. he goes in, extracts the information and gets out. until he finds himself compromised, by a girl who feels all too familiar, who tells him that maybe his life he'd constructed in his head wasn't real.

part one | in progress

match made in hell | driver!reader summary: she had everything, wins, championships, a fiancee. but one text message makes that all crumble. and suddenly the man she thought loved her his whole life is her sworn enemy? and now her track enemy is her lover? what was going on.

part one | part two | part three | completed

[syzygyofeureka]

Wtf wine aunt doing here? Where's the mum?