#dutch's daughter reader

[cowboyfromh3ll]

OKAY BESTIE I'VE GOT ANOTHER ONE

It's John's turn this time.

The reader is Dutch's daughter still.

Dutch starts dating John's mother, and they have a dinner to introduce the kids. (They're 18 ans 23 but) since Dutch is serious about this woman, he wants her son (who still lives at home... also maybe has an emo band but thats besides the point) and his daughter to meet each other.

Cue another stereotypical porn scenario, except this one of the Stepbro variety

I absolutely loved Cola.

Have you heard the song "She keeps me up" by nickelback? (Ik nickelback is kinda cringe but this song 💋👌)

It reminded me of this prompt because one of the lines is:

"Funky little monkey, she's a twisted trickster.

Everybody wants to be the sister's mister

Coca cola, roller coaster

Love her even though I'm not supposed to."

MX

(StepBro!John Marston x Dutch’s Daughter!Reader Smut)

WOOOO MY GOD this was sooooo fun to write and it's one of the best pieces of literature I have ever written. Enjoy.

Warnings: Stepcest, age gap, unprotected piv, reader is a pervert with a wild imagination

You had a near giddy sense of optimism at the thought of that day's coming events. The lust was like an IV drip in your veins, spreading through your body rapidly enough to make you feel lightheaded from excitement. You tumbled out of bed and pranced towards the bathroom like a deer frolicking through a field, though with your hazy state of mind, it felt more like dragging yourself towards the bathroom with the helpless awareness of someone realizing they’d been slipped a drug. You swung open the door with such great ferocity you thought you might rip it off its hinges if you weren’t careful.

You tried to take relief in the surging water of the shower, cranking the handle the furthest you could; the bathroom filling with steam within minutes. You stood underneath the water, watching the way each droplet drummed against the bottom of your tub hypnotically. You thought of the boy you were hours away from meeting in an introductory dinner, your father informing you he was named John. From pictures your father had so graciously shown you, you knew he was your type. He looked considerably older than you, though not by too much. Young looking enough that people wouldn’t give you questioning looks if they saw you walking together in public hand in hand, or perhaps sharing a milkshake; seductively licking the whipped cream off the corner of his mouth before dipping your own finger in the fluffy confection.

His skin looked nearly wet in the picture your father showed you, standing next to his mother in some outside area (You barely remembered what she looked like, far too focused on him). The oily lubricants of sweat caused his hair to cling to his forehead; the effortless feather of his side-swept bangs that were just slightly too long framing his left eye. You’d imagined that if you pushed them back, the path of his shining forehead would be exposed. The thought alone made your heart quicken as if he had just stripped naked in front of you. You went on to imagine that after pushing back his bangs, you’d lick his forehead; likely tasting of the sweat on his inner thighs and the crevices of his torso.

You smiled at the thought as you slathered the syrupy body wash across your breasts, hoping your skin would ferment with the scent and create an intoxicating alcohol in the air. You began to imagine John inhaling the rousing fragrance of your cherry vanilla shampoo as you massaged your scalp; the result of accidentally leaning far too forward next to him while he showed you something on his phone screen, a swath of velvety hair brushing against his nose as he tried his best not to deeply inhale you. You soon became so dizzy from your own thoughts that you clumsily supported yourself on the shower wall before sliding down. You extracted the shower head from its holder before turning the notch to a narrow stream of high pressure and holding it between your legs the same way a medic would put an oxygen mask on a patient slipping from consciousness.

You chose your outfit for the day carefully. You decided that today you’d brandish a mini baby pink slip dress, the material imperceptibly sheer; slight enough that they wouldn’t be able to discern the outline of your lacy underwear; but sheer enough that upon closer inspection, they’d be able to make out the prints of your hardened nipples and the color of your smooth breasts. For the special occasion, you wore no bra but donned a simple white cropped cardigan. Only upon entering the privacy of John’s bedroom, if allowed, would you discard the fabric to allow the cold air of the house to make a show of your hardened nipples for your target. Until you were able to engage in true contact with the man, you’d use his hungry stares as sustenance. You’d imagined John had never been with someone so deliciously supple, someone so curvaceous and tempting, that he couldn’t mask the direction in which his eyes traveled and the delight at what he was looking at.

When you check the weather for the day, your heart swelled in satisfaction at the realization of what the record high southern heat would bring. You licked your lips as you watched the news anchor on TV, almost able to taste the flavor of John’s sweat on your tongue. The piquancy would cause your mouth to water in delight, and you began to clench your legs painfully together as if to muffle the screeching desire that clawed away at the ornately papered walls of your meridional mansion.

As you shuddered, your father walked into the living room with an equally blissful smile on his face. “Goodmorning, sweetheart.” He called before walking over and planting a tender kiss to your temple. “Are you ready for tonight?” You nodded enthusiastically, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically as you realized your own excitement. In the past, you had never been particularly keen on meeting your father’s girlfriends, but it wasn’t often they had a hot son under their wing and this situation seemed too good to pass up.

The ride to their house was torturous; restless in the passenger seat of your father’s corvette as he drove down the road. Even though he was already driving above the speed limit, a part of you wanted to shove your father out of the driver's seat and drive there on your own at record speed, pushing the gas pedal to its limits. You tried your best to not bite your nails, painted cherry squares that gleamed like red vinyl; it was a habit you had ditched in the throes of your childhood. As you and your father pulled into the driveway of a quaint suburban home, all judgment you might’ve initially had left you as you remembered the prize that awaited you inside; like a parcel sitting inside an ornately wrapped gift box. You squinted your eyes against the bleached out concrete of their driveway, looking past the beat up looking 1900 Audi 100 and towards the doorway. The stone paved walkway served as an umbilical path to the inside; the bottom of your Repetto Camille heels scraping against the granular surface of their front steps, each strike of your heel against the ground a sharp reminder of what awaits you. It felt like a daydream, like you were walking a path of luminous sugar.

The rap of your father’s knuckle against the front door snapped you back to reality, and you stood there skittishly. You straightened your posture and flashed your father an enthusiastic smile which he returned. The door creaked open in front of you, revealing the woman of your father’s affections, but not the man of yours. Nonetheless, you held your smile and greeted the woman. You watched as the two exchanged kisses on the cheeks, before she turned to face you.

“Oh it’s so good to meet you, (Name)!” She stuck her hand out to shake yours, which you gingerly accepted and shook. “I’ve heard so much about you.” She went on to say, which made you smile wider.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Ms. Marston.” You nodded, your eyes skidding to look behind her to see if John was there. A sense of disappointment began to swell within you as you considered the fact that he may not be there; he was a grown man after all, and he could decide whether or not he wanted to be present to meet his mother’s new partner. The realization felt akin to the bittersweet pain of heat leaving your genitals upon retracting your hand before you could reach orgasm.

“Please, step inside. Dinner is nearly ready.” She stepped aside to allow you in, and you did so in a sluggish manner. The woman led you down the hall, presumably to her living room. When you turned the foyer into the living room, you nearly crumpled to your knees.

There, on the couch, you beheld the love of your life. Your chest began to surge when he turned to face the three of you, at once standing in a show of practiced politeness. His awkward gait as he walked over nearly made you screech in desire. Now that he stood before you, you drank in details you weren’t able to capture from mere pictures. Healed scars almost white in comparison to his tanned, stubbled skin. The small bump on his nose as it curved to a rounded tip. The girth of his generous biceps, decorated in embellishing ink designs, not revealed in the portrait style pictures you had seen. The slight downturn of his brown eyes contrasting his rough features.

Before you knew it, he was standing before you, seemingly last in the assembly line to be greeted by him. “Nice to meet you, I’m John.” His southern drawl made you shiver, your teeth chattering as you lifted your hand to his. The initial feeling of skin to skin contact made you want to cry out; the single touch alone would’ve been enough to satiate you for the entire night and until your next meeting. But your longing grew teeth, and you were ready to maul the man before you. There was a distinct gentleness in the way you took his hand, flashing him your best smile as you batted your eyelashes. “I’m, (Name).” You chirped. “Pleasure to meet you.” And what a pleasure it would be, indeed, you thought. You noted the calluses on the tips of his fingers, imagining what their roughness might’ve felt like grinding into your clit. As the two of you parted hands, you smoothed the tips of your fingers over his wrist and slid them over his palm. You watched his face to pick up on any reactions to your strangely intimate gesture, relishing in the way his adams apple bobbed harshly.

“See, they’re already getting along.” Your father joked. You offered genuine laughter, finding amusement in the unintentional literalness of his statement.

“Oh, yes! Let me check up on dinner to see if it’s ready yet.” John's mother began walking towards the kitchen, to which your father followed closely behind her.

“I’ll come with you, the two can acquaint themselves for a bit.” He patted her shoulder, offering you and John a polite yet expectant smile. You and your father seemed to have a hive mind that night, because the set up couldn’t be any more perfect. You stepped around the arm rest of the couch and sat down on the cushioning, seemingly assessing the comfort of the pillows to see how well of a surface they’d make for cunnilingus.

Your attention was drawn back to John, who was sitting in a reclining chair vertical to the loveseat you sat on. “There’s some water on the table if you’d like some.” He motioned towards the tray on the table, which held 4 glasses.

“Thank you.” You said, a small purr in your inflection as you reached for a glass and brought it to your lips. John watched with near a hypnotized demeanor as you tipped the cup back, your rouge lipstick leaving a print on the side of the cup. He watched as the pink flesh of your tongue flicked over the rim of the cup tentatively, catching a few loose droplets of water. John looked so nervous he looked like he might throw up all over his shoes, and your small gestures were enough to start up a tremble in him.

“So,” you began, the sound of you setting your cup down causing John to jerk. “Tell me about yourself, John!” You said enthusiastically. You hadn’t noticed how wide you were grinning, perhaps too excited for a simple meeting. He looked at you as though you had just asked him the meaning of life. You gave him an encouraging nod, something you would’ve never otherwise done if this were any other boy. But you could make special exceptions.

He sat up and drummed on his thighs, deep in thought. “Uh, well… I’m twenty three-”

You couldn’t help but lick your lips at the mention of his age, passing it off as blithely wetting your dry lips. You listened attentively as he recounted the rudimentary details of his life, your eyes focusing on the scars littered across one side of his face. You imagined what it’d be like to skate your tongue across them, allowing your tongue to linger on one end before sliding back down the other direction.

“The car out in the front is mine, actually.” There was a small inflection of pride in his voice, though you couldn’t remember the conversation having gotten to the point of discussing cars in your daydream.

“Oh really? It’s quite nice.” You supposed talking up a man’s ego would be the easiest way to get him out his pants, and his car seemed to be a soft spot for him. Though comparably, if you were talking cars, you’d be doing him a service driving him around in yours. Imagine the fun you two would have! You’d pick him up in your baby blue audi roadster; he’d sit a bit awkwardly at first on the passenger side, his legs bent up too far to avoid having the skin on the back of his knees touch the hot leather of the seat. You’d drive him down an isolated road with the top down as you floored the gas, letting the wind hit your bodies in some form of foreplay. Before long, you’d be surrounded by overgrown greenery and untamed woods, and you’d tell him to slide his jeans down so you could pull his cock out and fellate him.

“Y’know, I actually have quite a few cars. Maybe you can check ‘em out sometime?” You offered, feigning innocence. His eyes widened slightly at your mentioning of having several cars of your own. “Yeah?” He asked in disbelief.

You nodded. “Yeah! Maybe I’ll even let you drive one.” You giggled, feeling exultation at making him laugh as well, even if it was nervous laughter. You hoped that upon accepting your invitation to view your cars in some impromptu meet, it’d be easy to seduce and fuck him in the back seat of one of your coupes.

"Ha, never imagined my mom would find herself a rich fella. Now I'll be able to borrow my rich sister's cars." Having him call you his sister felt like a kick in the skull, it was like being unwillingly pulled into a group project you had no intentions of being a part of. "Well, I'm not quite your sister." In an act of defiance, you shed the thin cardigan and puffed your chest out, pulling the thin strings tying the front together like you were unwrapping a gift; the lighting from the chandelier made your dress appear subtly translucent. You suppressed the smirk that threatened to come onto your face when you heard him cough and clear his throat. "Think of it as borrowing your friend's cars " You turned to look at him again, flashing a toothy smile that dismissed any ulterior motives.

"Uhm, yeah." His porcelain voice shivered with forming cracks. He crossed one thigh over the other, leaning back in his seat and sucking in a deep breath. Now that he was actually in front of you, you could take a moment to study his clothing of choice. It seemed that that day he himself had decided to brandish baggy black jeans that bunched around his ankles, and a black band shirt that read 'Alice In Chains'. Not only that, he had a few studded leather bracelets around his wrists. You wondered what he'd look like with a similar choker around his neck, attached to a leash as you sat on his back with a leather crop like he was your mount of choice.

"I like your style!" You complimented, taking another sip of your water. The remark seemed to work in your favor, causing him to sit up straight and smile in pride. Indeed, the way inside a man's heart, and pants, was to talk him up.

"Thank you, I like yours too." His tone was hushed, briefly flickering his eyes down your body before your father walked in. "Hey you two, dinner’s ready." He announced. You dropped all seductive pretenses and faced your father, pulling your cardigan back on while smiling. "Alright daddy!"

The two of you promptly followed behind Dutch, who already seemed to know his way around the house as he led you towards the dining room. John mechanically set the table as his mother droned on about how excited she was to have finally met you, putting a hand on your shoulder with familiar proximity. You did not mind the touch, but you detested the idea of it being perceived as motherly by your father or John. You sat across from John on the mahogany dinner table, which was a heartland expanse of wood long enough for you to lay down on as John pillaged you. Though the four sharp corners of the table were somehow symbolic; a reminder to not go out of bounds on this dinner.

The dinner went on as planned by your father: blithe introductions and a lighthearted atmosphere, your father encouraging you to speak of your achievements casually to show what a great unit the two of you were without sounding pretentious. Though you supposed speaking about all your pageantry awards and college certificates along with your impressive resume was anything but; feeling instead like you were in the middle of some high stakes interview that determined the rest of your life. In a way, you thought it did though. Afterall, the man of your dreams was sitting across from you, and you wanted to impress him. But John seemed to sink in his chair the more you spoke, his eyes flickering occasionally towards his mother, who's jaw only seemed to open wider the more you shared.

"Quite a daughter you've got, Dutch! You should be proud." She cheered, flashing you a warm smile in the process. You returned it before looking over across from you, and John himself seemed to be impressed. But it was more of an ashamed look, as if he were trying to telepathically communicate to his mother 'don't be disappointed in me because I don't have all those achievements under my belt'.

In an act of consolation, you slipped your foot out of your shoe and ran it up his leg, not once looking at him as you did so, stopping to rest your toes on his knee. Perhaps a rush of your judgment, but you felt his entire leg go rigid beneath your foot as he froze, his fork stopping mid way on its path towards his mouth. You continued conversation with your father like it was nothing, a skill born out of practice. You retracted your foot momentarily, an imaginary static shock connecting the two of you as you flickered your eyes towards him briefly, who was staring back at you with aroused disbelief.

"Would you like some more water, (Name)?" John's mother asked, pitcher in hand. You nodded and thanked her, watching the way the cup filled before flashing John a more sultry smile, knowing and empathetic. It said all the words you could not speak out loud. You rested your chin on the back of your hand as you listened to John's mother speak about the multiple clients she saw a day as a real estate agent. You took John's reaction as a green light, opting towards a more bold move. The initial touch had been a pop quiz, now this was the big exam. Once again, your foot traveled up his shin, stopping only for a moment at his knee, as if waiting for one last sign of rejection, before reaching past his thigh and landing at his crotch, rubbing front to back again and again while your father spoke of his own business. Upon applying more pressure to his half erect genitals with the sole of your foot, John's knee reflexively jerked and slammed up into the table, causing you to pull your foot back and shove it into your shoe before anyone could see what you were doing.

Dutch and John's mother looked at each other before looking at John in confusion. "Are you okay, hon?" His mother asked. Her concern-laden question made you want to laugh. John cleared his throat and nodded, shifting in his seat.

"Yeah, mom." He confirmed. She didn't appear too convinced, but she didn't want to rouse any sort of uncomfortable conversation in the middle of dinner. You smiled to yourself in satisfaction, a small victory cheer playing out in your head. The rest of dinner went without a hitch, occasionally stopping to rest your foot on top of John's shoe. He still held an expression of confusion and disbelief, a tinge of arousal; but not once did he move his foot away.

By the end of dinner, John's mother insisted he show you to his room so you could see all his rock memorabilia, something she thought a woman of your age would enjoy seeing. And while you had never dabbled in the more alternative side of fashion and music, it was certainly something that you thought made a man more attractive. John had a stiff air about him as the two of you got up and excused yourself from the dinner table, and you reveled in his tenseness as you walked alongside him. He was quiet the entire walk as if in deep contemplation, not once looking at you out of fear that if he did, he might turn to see some sort of succubus had taken your place. Though once you reached the steps leading up to the second floor, you made a point of stepping directly in front of John as you traversed upwards.

You could feel his eyes train on your ass, the shortness of your dress and the movement of your hips affording him a peek beneath the hem of your dress and to your lace clad ass. As if you were a magician hypnotizing him with some sort of mystical locket by swaying it back and forth, he followed you up in a trance. It wasn't until you stopped at the top of the stairs, turning your torso to face him, did he rip his eyes away from your posterior and up to face you. You smirked unabashedly, as if to tell him you caught him staring.

"Which room is yours?" You asked, looking back to the hallway.

"Oh, right this way." There was a small pep in his step as he led you down the carpeted hall. When he reached the door, he pushed it open and stepped aside to allow you in.

"Ladies first." He said, a tinge of amusement in his voice.

"What a gentleman." You said as you stepped in. You stood in the center of his room, looking around at its slightly disheveled state. He clearly hadn't anticipated having anyone in his room that night, only expecting a quaint dinner. His walls were decorated with several posters of bands, all dressed in a similar fashion as him while carrying electric guitars and wildly thrashing their hair. His navy blue bed sheets on his unmade that you so badly wanted to throw yourself onto face first before inhaling deeply. He had a few guitars of his own propped up against the wall, and you took an instant liking to the bright red one. There were stray t-shirts littered across the floor; his closet door bulging open to reveal more black clothes.

"I like your room, it's so you." You smiled at him, crossing your arms beneath your chest. John stepped fully inside, closing the door behind him but leaving it slightly ajar.

"Thanks, I'd say it's real uh, expressive." He said, which made you giggle.

"You play?" You pointed towards the instruments, only then taking note of the amp positioned behind them.

"Yeah, I'm actually in a band."

This new piece of information was absolutely delightful, and it made you perk up. "Oh really?" You asked, leaning forward in interest. He showed that same bit of pride, gaining confidence at your sudden inquiry.

"Yeah, I'm the lead guitarist." He boasted, sitting down on the bed behind you. You looked at the spot directly next to him, and asked "May I?"

Before he could realize what you were asking, he nodded yes. The realization of what he agreed to came when you sat down so close next to him that your thighs were shy of touching each other. He made no comment about it, only deeply inhaling to steady his breath. The casualty of your prior conversation almost made him nearly forget about the little trick you pulled downstairs at dinner.

"Uhm.." He began, opening his mouth to speak but closing it as if unsure how to start. He looked at you and squinted his eyes, confused by the perplexed expression on your face feigning innocence.

"Downstairs, uh…" You cocked your brow in faux confusion, as if you had no idea where he was going with this. The action alone made John feel crazy, as if he had imagined the whole scene in its entirety and by mentioning it, you'd look at him in appalled disbelief for even imagining something so lewd with his new step sister.

Before he could continue, you cut him off. "Hey John, I have a question."

He pursed his lips before gulping. "What is it?"

"When your mother showed you the picture of my dad and I, did you touch yourself to the thought of me?"

The forwardness of the question made John’s eyes widen to gargantuan proportions. He raised one of his brows at you as if to assess whether you were serious or not, and for a moment, you felt the unfamiliar fear of the possibility of your assumptions being wrong. To emphasize how serious you were, you began undoing the front strings of your cardigan again, letting it slide down your arms along with a singular spaghetti strap, which you made a point not to fix as it slid down your shoulder.

“Uhm… I…” His hesitancy to answer was an answer of its own. You smiled and leaned into his arm, feeling the rigidity of his body. You looked at his face; he looked as though he were weighing out his options. You were sure that if you could read his mind, one end of the balancing scale would have “Remain decent during this joining of two families”, and the other end would read “Fuck my super hot step sister who clearly wants me.” And you were certain that the latter was outweighing the former.

“Well,” You began, ghosting your fingers on his thighs. “I have.” His breath hitched, eyes fixed on where your hand was. “All I can think about is touching you. I want to touch you so badly, and I want you to touch me.” You brought your face closer to his, awaiting any sort of response. He didn’t seem quite as convinced as you wanted him to be though.

“I know you want to.” You purred, laying your palm flat on his thigh, shy of a few inches from his cock. “I saw the way you were looking at me in the living room. And I know you were looking at my ass when we were going up the stairs. Just admit it.” John looked off to the side shamefully as though he’d been caught walking into a room he wasn’t welcome into. You were sure that if this were under any other circumstances, John would’ve pounced on you with as much fervor by now. But the step siblings aspect added an extra layer of shame that you viewed as unnecessarily tedious.

“John.” You said more firmly, cupping his stubbled cheek and turning him to face you directly. “Touch me.”

His hands came to the sides of your face as he lowered his mouth onto yours. You felt his pulse strike against your fingers as you continued to hold him, willfully opening your mouth in the beginning of a hungry kiss. Instantly, John shoved his tongue into your mouth, the nascent feeling of metal on his tongue as he created a sucking motion with each kiss making you shiver. You moaned into the kiss, sucking and kissing anything your mouth came into contact with. He abandoned all hesitant pretenses as his hands began to roam your body, groping and squeezing anything that filled his palm. His touches were so confident and intentional, it appeared as though he had never been scared at all. He seemed to have a perfect lexicon of your body inside his mind, knowing exactly where to touch without looking.

You turned to face him better on the bed, swinging one of your thighs over his lap. As you two separated from the kiss, his needy hands came to your straps and hooked two fingers around them, looking to you for permission before he pulled them down.

“But you’re my brother.” You joked, faking a pout.

“Your STEP-brother.” He clarified. Without another word, he yanked the strings down, exposing your pert chest and hardened nipples. He lowered his mouth to a nipple before taking it in between his lips, pulling it along with his teeth as he sucked. You lowered your head and watched the pink on skin contact, your nipple beginning to glisten with John’s saliva. You gasped and threw your head back, holding his crown in place as his tongue piercing swirled around the bud.

You reached your arms across his back and began clawing at the shirt he was wearing, pulling it up along his back until he helped you pull it over his head, temporarily interrupting his ministrations. After delivering the same attention to your other nipple, he began yanking the rest of your dress down along your body. You lifted your ass in assistance, giggling at the way he flung it across the room, hanging on the headstock of his red guitar.

“Damn, girl, you are stunning.” He smirked, taking a moment to admire your perfectly taut torso before smoothing his hands over the skin. “And you smell amazing.” He added. His comments nearly made you blush. You flung your heels off across the room, leaving you in only your red lacy underwear.

“Your turn.” You whispered, winking at him. He stood hastily and began removing his studded belt, dropping his jeans quickly after and clumsily pulling them off his ankles. His excitement made you laugh, you thought he might trip from how quickly he was moving. You licked your lips at the sight of the trail of hair dusted across his naval, disappearing beneath the waistband of his boxers; it appeared as if it were some wispy chocolate confection drizzled over his body. At this point, he joined you back in bed, remaining in his own underwear. You eyed the noticeable bulge in his underwear, a tiny wet spot where his tip lay.

“Someone’s excited.” You teased, tracing the scar that ran along his cheek.

“Shit, with someone as smokin’ as you, who wouldn’t be.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your neck, his teeth grazing your pulse. The two of you shared a moment of lighthearted giggles as he pulled you along further on the bed.

“You ever had a girl?” You asked. You supposed you knew the answer, but you wanted to hear it come from his mouth. Your hands wrapped around his cloth covered cock and began to stroke leisurely.

“One, but besides that, I haven’t done much.” His labored breath sounded like he was running from something. “How come?” You asked. “You’re certainly handsome.”

He shrugged, shaking his head as he tipped it back on his sternum. “No one will have me, I guess.” He laughed in self pity. In response, you squeezed his cock before lifting your hand from the wad of fabric shaped around his erection. You hooked your fingers on the elastic of his underwear, pulling it down as the head of his cock snagged on the waistband before springing free. You smirked at the sight of his Jacob's ladder piercing.

“I like it.” You complimented, looking back up at him. “Real adventurous.”

“I guess the pain would have been worth it after all.” He joked.

You lowered your head above his cock, your hair falling around you. You exhaled onto him, bathing his tip in your warm breath. With that, you licked your lips, lowering them over him, leaving a pink print wherever your lips paused. You heard a guttural moan above you, his fingers resting over your scalp as if debating whether he should grasp your roots or not. You slowly arched your neck, extending your throat until it came to his base. You delighted in the feeling of metal against your tongue, fluttering it against his underside. He made gasping noises and began bucking his hips, writhing in a disoriented way that made the tip of his cock bump against the back of your throat.

You gave him a few minutes of skilled sucking, your throat producing various wet slurps and gags as you fucked your own throat on his cock. You brushed your hair behind your ear, looking up at him through your lashes. His face twitched and contorted in pleasure, his mouth hanging open in a silent moan. You began tasting the salty bitters of pre-ejaculate on your tongue, hollowing your cheeks as you pulled your head back on his tip, giving a few more harsh sucks before popping off of it. His erection glistened and bobbed in the air as you looked up at him seductively, licking your lips before leaning back up towards eye level. His eyes remained trained on his own cock, looking as if to see if it was still attached.

“Your turn.” You whispered before placing your fingertips on his chest, pushing him back to lay on the bed, his head landing comfortably on his pillow. His lips twitched into an excited smile as you shuffled over him, your knees on either side of his torso. His shaky hands came to grip the back of your thighs, his pointer fingers digging into the plump flesh where your thigh curved into your ass.

You couldn’t believe how close the two of you were to actually fucking. You had a small growing sense of paranoia that your father or John’s mother may decide to walk upstairs, the carpeted floor cushioning their muted footsteps. That they’d throw the door open and see the clothes strewn across the floor, before landing on you sitting atop of John. You sweeped the thought away, deciding to enjoy this for as long as possible. You gripped the head board as you walked your knees to the sides of his neck, looking down at his excited face.

“You know what would be really hot?” You asked, squaring your cunt in front of his mouth. “If you took ‘em off with your teeth.” He leaned up with the obedience of a dog, pinching the elastic between his front teeth before sliding them down, his canines lightly scraping the tender flesh of your thigh. You shuddered as goosebumps wracked your body, the feeling of his nose traveling down your pubic bone making you want to cry out in ecstasy. Your thighs nearly sandwiched his neck, and as your panties pooled at your knees, it only required a slight tilt of your pelvis before you straddled his face fully, releasing your weight onto his mouth. His hands came to grip your ass, squeezing and pulling the globes of flesh in opposite directions.

His lips quickly latched onto your clit, sucking before he opened his mouth and flattened his tongue along your cunt; the feeling of cold metal making you yelp. Without waiting for the green light, you began grinding down onto his face. You bit your lip to avoid the risk of being found out, scrunching your face up at your best attempt to keep quiet. The bottom half of John’s face quickly became marinated in your enthusiasm, eating you out with the same eagerness as if he had just got a new car and was driving it for the first time.

He moaned into your pussy, his tongue laving between your lips and labia, circling your clit before sliding back down to your molting hole. He slid his wet muscle inside you, effectively tongue fucking you as you ground your clit into his nose. He gave your ass a playful spank, a sharp quick cut into the static haziness of your wanton acts which made you keenly aware of the fact either of your parents might’ve heard that. But you couldn’t find it in you to chastise him, he was far too engrossed in eating you out, and very excitedly.

John gripped your ass more forcefully now, manually shoving your cunt further onto his face as he continued to suck and lick. He was doing this with the full intention of making you cum. You bit the back of your hand, grinding so hard into his face you thought you might break the mattress. With a few more harsh sucks, you felt a flash of heat as you came all over John’s mouth and chin, barely able to suppress your cry of euphoria. He wrapped his mouth fully around your cunt, swallowing as much of your cum as he could before going back to sucking on your oversensitive clit. Your grinds slowed to a halt before you climbed off his head, seeing just how spent and drenched his face was.

You laughed in amusement. “My god.” You continued to giggle, feeling a sense of tenderness for him. He had a satisfied smile on his face as he laughed.

“How’d I do?” He lifted himself on his elbows as you moved off of him, leaning your back against the wall as you shed your panties off of your legs fully.

“Well you made me cum so I’d say pretty fucking good.” You giggled, patting him on the knee. Your cunt was a spent pool of pleasure, but the ache inside you continued to burn. You imagined he felt the same way, his cock somehow harder and in more need of touch.

“Take these off fully, already.” You pouted, moving to yank his underwear fully off his legs, throwing it into the pile of clothes next to his bed. You turned to face him. “How do you wanna fuck me?” You asked. He sat up suddenly and moved to the side, patting the pillow where he once laid.

“I wanna look at you while we do it.” Wordlessly, you followed his order and laid on your back, hugging your knees to your chest as he positioned himself above you. He took your ankles and settled them on his shoulders, giving the sides of your feet a kiss before gripping his cock and guiding it inside you. You nodded in encouragement, your mouth falling into a silent o as he slid in slowly to the hilt. He sucked in shaky breaths, trying his best to contain any sounds. He decided to lean forward and over to his night stand, pulling out a random CD before popping it into the player atop. At once, the sound of guitars and drums and smooth vocals filled the room, masking any sounds you made. He cranked the volume up, hastily beginning to thrust inside you.

It was the perfect cover up, one John’s mom wouldn’t question. It made sense, after all, for John to be sharing some of his music taste with you up in his bedroom, no matter how obnoxiously loud it might be. The two of you began in a chorus of moans and grunts, the wet sounds of skin on skin accompanying the playing of the band. John paused his movements momentarily to reach for an extra pillow aside your head before shoving it under your hips, helping him in elevating your pelvis. You let out a particularly loud squeal at the newly reached depth, letting loose a stream of obscenities about how good John was fucking you.

His hair began sticking to his forehead the same way it did in that one photograph, the sight of it making your cunt tighten around him. You dragged him down toward you by the arm, before sweeping his bangs to the side and landing a stripe of saliva on his forehead. The racy flavor made you shudder in delight, and you moved to wrap your arms around John’s neck to hold him in place. He buried his head into the crook of your neck, gripping the headboard as both of your bodies jerked from each movement. If the bed was squeaking, you wouldn’t have known; far too stimulated by the sounds of your bodies moving in tandem along with Chino Moreno’s singing.

John lifted his face to press his sweaty forehead to yours, an expression of pure ecstasy on his debauched features. The functioning awareness of his brain lagging behind his own body as it tried to register what had just happened, what was currently happening, and what was about to end. His eyes opened momentarily and you saw a sense of bewilderment for his own actions, before shutting slowly again in bliss. An involuntary and guttural noise left his mouth as he came inside you. The uncontrolled wince of his face combined with the spreading warmth in your abdomen tipped off your own orgasm, and you came harder than you had before. In the moment, you hadn’t registered that the way you screamed was akin to the primal screech one would release upon being fatally wounded.

As the next track on the album came to an end, the two of you remained in the same position catching your breaths. John seemed to snap back to his senses when he looked down to where you connected, a ribbon of cum dripping out of you. When he removed himself his horrors were only confirmed further.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I-I’ll pay for your plan b, I-” You sat up and waved your hand dismissively.

“On the pill, don't worry.” You reassured, which seemed to effectively calm his nerves. You sat up again, resting your back on the headboard.

“Wow.” He said, smiling at you widely.

“Wow, indeed.” You said.

“That was the best sex of my life.” He slapped your thigh before rubbing it, which you welcomed by placing your hand over his. “There’s more where that came from.” You winked once again and leaned forward to kiss him. The two of you shared a non-sexually charged kiss before separating.

“Alright.” You pat his knee, “Let’s get dressed now before my dad or your mom come up.”

The two of you got dressed simultaneously, slipping your dress on quickly before studying your hair and makeup in a nearby mirror. You picked up your panties and tossed them back towards John, who just barely caught them.

“Keep 'em, as a trophy.” You giggled as you watched him stuff them in his pocket. “Will do.”

The two of you made a haste trip to the bathroom to clean yourselves up and make sure you looked presentable before going back downstairs again. The two of you shared a tender moment where you dabbed away the sweat on each other's foreheads with crumpled up tissues. Upon your return downstairs, you found your respective parents sitting on the couch chatting, before they turned to face you two.

“How’d you two get along?” Asked Dutch. John’s mother looked on in enthusiasm, clapping her hands together. “I’m assuming well, John put on one of his favorite CDs to show you after all.” She cooed. The two of you looked at eachother knowingly with blithe laughter that suggested nothing out of the ordinary had happened at all.

“Yeah,” You began. “I think we’re gonna get along great.”

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

MX - Deftones

[sweets-fanfics]

Homecoming 24

Word count: 2624

Warning: Violence, animal loss

AN: Hey, it’s been a minute. I wrote this up last night. Lmk if you used to be tagged and you want to be tagged again. Thank you and please lmk what you think. (chapter after the cut :))

I bent down next to my father as he looked into the binoculars. He mustn’t have heard me because he jumps as I speak, “Why are you getting in this mess?”

“Daughter! Glad of you to join us. I honestly didn’t expect it.” 

“I’m only here to make sure you don’t get anyone killed.”

Dutch sighs and sits up, “I’m glad you have so much faith in me.”

I could see a wagon followed by four men on horses. “You aren’t trying to kill them are you?”

“Of course not, dirty thing, murder is.” He says waving me off.

“I highly doubt that as of late.” 

Dutch rolled his eyes and sighed again, “We will not have this discussion now. First, we must help these people get free.”

“Dutch, I don’t think getting involved is what we need right now.” I grabbed both my pistols and my bolt action rifle. “I just don’t want any danger brought to the camp.”

“Is that why you’ve been staying away?”

“I don’t feel safe in the camp right now for obvious reasons.” 

He opened his mouth to speak but a young native man cut him off, “They’re coming.”

“What are we going to be doing?” I ask the boy.

“We will be messing with him, and taking their payroll.”

I gave Dutch a dirty look, “Is he joking?”

“No, he’s not. But the money is all going to them.”

I groaned and stopped walking as the two walked ahead. I could sense two bodies stopping next to me. I glanced to either side to see Arthur and Charles both looking as irritated as I felt. 

“Do we help?” Charles asks. He and I both glance up at Arthur. 

“I guess… but don’t kill anyone. Or at least try not to.” 

Eagles Flies walks to the cart of explosives to help the other natives as Arthur catches up to Dutch. Dutch, already holding some explosives has a huge smirk on his face, “It’s perfect Arthur. We let them do most of the work and everyone will be too worried about the ‘Native problem’ that they won’t see us floating up the river to freedom.”

Charles looks visibly disgusted as Dutch carries on. “That’s horrible,” I mumble mainly to myself.

“Y/N why not help your husband put dynamite in the trees.” Dutch orders, oblivious to everyone's disgust with his grand plan.

“We’re using them?” Arthur asks, hoping he misheard Dutch.

“Not exactly.” Dutch tries to say

“These are good people,” Arthur says over him, “We could help these people.” 

Dutch side eyes me as if I spoke, “Let's just get this done.” He mumbles annoyed.

Eagles Flies Yells from the top of the cliff that we needed to hurry. Arthur mumbles for me to hold the end of the spool as he walks it across the road. I hold on to it as Arthur and dutch walk to each tree and attach the wire to the dynamite Dutch hangs on the trees. As they get further I see Dutch say something to Arthur that makes him stop in his tracks and look back at me. He’s just barely far enough away that I can’t quite read his expression.

“That should be enough, come back up here.” Eagles yells from the top of the cliff. The men stop and walk back towards me. Charles had already started to head back up.

Arthur gently takes the wire I was holding and starts to walk back up making sure I follow. “Dutch says the law caught Colm.” He states. His back is towards me so I still don’t understand his reaction.

“And? Only took them a few years.”

“They are gonna hang him in Saint Denis soon.” He finally peaks over his shoulder at me. “He’s gonna go watch 'cause he thinks his men are gonna try to break him out. He wants me to go.”

“And me?” I asked already guessing the answer.

“He uh… He said it’s not much of a thing a mother should be at.” I rolled my eyes. “I told him okay, but, I won’t tell ya no.” We gave each other both the same knowing smile.

“Sounds like a date.” 

  —---------

We made it back up to the cliff with everyone. I notice all the men putting on bandanas over their faces. “I thought we were just talking?” I asked realizing I don’t have a bandana.

“We are,” Dutch confirms, “But as you know some of us are outlaws and we do plan on humiliating them a little bit as well.” 

Arthur opens his bag and pulls out a black bandana, “Here, I have an extra.”  He ties it around my neck softly then pulls it over my nose, “Very pretty.” He jokes.

“This feels weird,” I admit.

“You get used to it,” Arthur mumbles.

“There’s more than we thought,” Eagles states sounding a bit nervous.

“It’s alright.” Dutch assures him, “Just means more ears to listen to our cause.”

“Our..?” I hear Charles say from somewhere behind me. 

Arthur finishes connecting the wire to the plunger detonator. As Eagles Flies warns his men to wait for his signal. All is quiet as we wait for the Army to get into the perfect position. 

The caravan passes past the first charge and Dutch gives Arthur the go-ahead. As they go off all the soldiers either hit the ground and cover their heads or try to calm the horses they are riding. 

Everyone on the cliff stands and aims their guns at the soldiers. “You’re surrounded. Don’t move.” Eagle demands the soldiers below. “Your humiliation of us has gone on too long.”

“You are making a mistake, boy.” The Soldier that seems to be in charge yells up. 

“You’re the ones making the mistake.” Dutch adds. 

“What happened to letting them do everything?” I aim my rifle at the soldiers.

“Who are you?” The soldier yells back.

“A concerned citizen.” I can hear Dutch’s smile. He’s enjoying this too much. 

I glance at Arthur and Charles who both also don’t look happy Dutch spoke up. “We should move,” Arthur suggests. 

As if proving his point, one of the soldiers fires toward us. I freeze as I feel the bullet buzz past me. Arthur yanks me back from the ledge by my arm as Dutch yells at the soldiers for shooting first and then fires back at them starting a firefight.

“Are you okay?” Arthur asks quickly.

“I’m fine, just shocked me for a second.” I can tell he wants to tell me to take off but I walk back to the edge and start taking out soldiers before he can even get a word in. 

As everyone fires back and forth I hear Eagle say his father isn’t going to be happy. I feel bad that my fathers' obsession with needing to cause drama will just make life harder for these people. 

I look to my left and see another patrol heading to us fast to assist the other soldiers. “More coming on the rear,” I announce out loud to everyone. When only Charles seems to hear me I groan and put my rifle away and grab my pistol. “Fuck it, I’ll handle it.”

Arthur hears me that time as he turns and watches me stomp towards the train the soldiers are climbing to get to us. “Four or five natives, two white men, and a woman” I hear the soldier at the front of the herd announce as they round the corner. 

“Y/N, hold on, hold on.” Arthur yells as he follows after to help. By the time he catches up however more than half of the group has already been dealt with by me leaving him only a few soldiers he quickly shoots. “Damn. Girl, you can not be doing that by yourself anymore.”

“Girl?” I ask wondering if he realizes he called me that. 

“Sorry, the heat of the moment.”

“It’s alright.” I sigh as a shoot a soldier that was sneaking up behind him. 

Arthur turns to the rest of the group as they walk down the cliff to join us. “You fools,” Arthur exclaims. “This is the damn Army, not to random gangs or country folk.”

“Shouldn’t we leave?” Eagle asks Dutch who is ignoring Arthur’s statement.

“Let’s see if we can get information first.”

Everyone starts checking the pockets of bodies for anything that can be used. I pick one pocket and find a letter a soldier wrote to his father. I sigh and put the letter back in the man's pocket softly. “These are all kids. They aren’t the problem.”

“Just keep looking,” Dutch says, obviously annoyed with my presence.

An explosion goes off as more soldiers show up already firing at us, “There’s a lot of men Dutch.” Eagles yells.

“Don’t surrender! If you do you’ll hang.” He says back. “Arthur, We gotta take that cannon out.” 

“I can do it,” I yell already hurrying up the hill.

“Y/N, get back here!” Dutch yells as I ignore him and make it to the top.

 The soldier using the cannon steps back and lunges at me landing a punch to the side of my face. I swing back hitting him in the jaw and making him stagger back giving me enough time to shoot him in the chest. The other soldier who was assisting him tries to shoot me but is taken out by an out-of-breath Arthur.

“You run fast.” He sighs and lifts my face softly. “You might bruise. That’ll be a fun story to tell Bea.”

“Yeah, that was my first punch in the face in a while.” 

“Where’s my friend?” Eagle asks as he frantically looks around. “Did he die?” I look and see the man injured but walking up the hill. “Thank goodness.”

“Well, that sure wasn’t the plan.” Arthur spats towards Dutch.

“I’m doing my best Arthur, I’m trying everything I have.” The sound of the trumpets plays from nearby alerting us to the cavalry. “I’ll keep trying and you,” He jabs a finger towards Arthur and I, “will keep doubting me.”

“We are just worried about Folk, Dutch.” Arthur sighs as a cannonball hits nearby. “Shit, where Eagles Flies?”

As we look around Dutch pushes us towards the denser forest. “Don’t worry about that it’s time to run.”

Arthur grabs my hand and starts running after Dutch, “What about Eagles Flies? And Charles?” I ask both of them.

“I saw Charles take off,” Arthur called back. He whistled for our horses as they ran up to us.

“Arthur, Y/N, we need to ride fast and hard so stay on me!” Dutch yells as he scrambles onto his horse. 

Suzie already seems extremely stressed as she takes off with all her might. We ride deeper into the forest when we hear shot fire from the trees to our right and I'm suddenly rolling through the mud. Arthur who was ahead of me pulls on Athena’s reigns making her turn around so he could check on me. I sit up sore already annoyed at myself for not changing into pants before coming here. I hear Suzie let out a painful sound and I turn toward her. 

She’s on her side in pain as blood spills out from a bullet wound near her neck. “Suzie!” I yell and crawl over to her. My skirt gets caught by a branch sticking out of the mud making me almost fall face-first into the mud again. 

I somehow stand and start to pull on her reigns to try to get her to stand. “You gotta get up,” I demand. “Please, Suzie.” I start to beg and my eyes start to tear up and I stop trying to get her to stand and start putting pressure on the wound. “Arthur,” I cry out as he hops off Athena and runs to me. “We gotta get her to stand.”

“Y/N, we have to go. The army is on our tails.” He tries to pull me but I yank out o his grip and keep putting pressure on Suzie.

She isn’t moving as much anymore and I can’t feel her breathing much, “Suzie, I need you to get up.” I cry again but the horse doesn’t react anymore.

More bullets fly past us and Arthur is very visibly starting to get worried. “My dear, you are gonna have to forgive me.” He throws me over his shoulder and starts heading away from Suzie who is no longer moving.

“No! Damn it, Arthur, we gotta get her to stand up!” I scream and hit his back but his grip just tightens around me. “No. She’s gonna get hurt more!” My eyes are stinging from the tears I didn’t realize were still falling. “She’s gonna get concerned if we leave her,” I say not as loud anymore. 

“Arthur makes your horse run, we’ll fetch 'em later. We gotta go on foot.” Dutch calls from way ahead of us. 

As we run past Athena, Arthur smacks her rear end making her head in another direction as the men go deeper into the trees. “Y/N, I need you to run now.” Arthur places me on the ground but grabs my hand and keeps running into the forest.

We find a very small footpath that leads to us running on the side of a mountain with the roaring river below us. The soldiers are extremely close behind us now.

I keep looking back behind us when I suddenly run into a back of Arthur. When I turn around to look he’s stopped at a broken bridge. “Shit, this is it.” He yells to Dutch.

“Don’t fuckin’ move. Put your hands up.” The soldiers yell as they surround us.

“Follow my lead.” Dutch mumbles. I wasn’t sure what plan he had at the moment because at least twenty soldiers had guns on us. 

We all slowly put our hands up. Dutch starts back towards the edge of the cliff slowly as he rants to the soldiers about the men they killed. Arthur and I slowly do the same. I have a feeling I know what his plan is and I'm thankful I know how to swim.

“You can ask this lovely couple that I have a problem with fighting change. But I know now that you can’t do that.” As Dutch finishes, all three of us step off the cliff and plunges into the cold water.

The soldiers begin to fire at us as we are rushed down the river. Once the firing stops Dutch is able to get to land. He grabs Arthur by the arm and helps him up who then turns and takes my hand finally pulling me in.

“That went really bad, Dutch,” Arthur says as he coughs up water.

“We needed it though, we just escaped from chaos.” He seems almost happy. “Go get Charles and head to the reservation-”

“Stop giving orders for a damn minute.” I snap at him.

Dutch looks at me confused. “I’m sorry but not everyone has time to greave a horse.” He offers a hand to Arthur who ignores it and stands on his own to help me up. “We are almost home free. Don’t forget. Let’s split up.” He starts to walk away from us leaving us at the edge of the river. “Have faith you two, have faith.”

“There is no more faith,” I say to only Arthur. 

He pulls me into a big hug. I wrap my arms around his waist and tuck my face into his neck. “I’m sorry about Suzie. Let’s go find Athena and go get our girl.”

I let out a long sigh and nod, “Alright, Arthur.”

AN: thank you for reading :)

[thef1diary]

Little Big Fan Series Masterlist

A Max Verstappen x SingleMother!Reader Story

Status: complete (still updating for blurbs)

Series Summary: Your daughter runs off while you were in the middle of grocery shopping because she spotted Max, her favourite driver. Meeting you, Max wants to know everything about you and your six year old. So of course he finds excuses to keep meeting you, starting with inviting you to the Dutch Grand Prix.

total wc: 33.1k

Note: feel free to request a drabble or chapter idea for this story.

#lbf fic talks -> writing process, answering asks about the story, and pretty much anything related to this fic series.

1. Little Big Fan (1.6k words)

2. Little Big Flight (1.7k words)

3. Little Big Race (2.4k words)

4. Little Big Celebration (1.6k words)

5. Little Big Surprise (3.3k words)

6. Little Big Gifts (1.9k words)

7. Little Big Movie Night (2.4k words)

8. Little Big Allergy (3.6k words)

9. Little Big Phone Calls (1.7k words)

10. Little Big Date Night (1.9k words)

11. Little Big Schooldays (2k words)

12. Little Big Relationships (2.1k words)

13. Little Big Sleepover (2k words)

14. Little Big Champion (1.9k words)

15. Little Big Aftermath (3k words)

Little Big Blurbs

Mr. Bear & Bearman

Braid Bonding

Mother’s Day Special

Hide & Flee

[iamred-iamyellow]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Think Fast, You Only Get One Try - [Part 1]

♥ prev | next

♥ series masterlist | main masterlist

♥ pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

♥ chapter one synopsis: after almost two months it was finally time to tell lando about your daughter.

♥ smau + written - fc: girls on pinterest - none of the pictures are mine

♥ warnings: swearing !!!

♥ a/n: thank you so much for almost 400 followers and 1k+ notes on the intro <3 i really hope this part 1 lives up to your expectations! The next parts will have more smau and will ideally be longer (I just had to get the plot rolling with this first chapter lol)

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yourusername vroom vroom

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˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖

You knocked on Lando’s penthouse apartment door, knowing there was no going back now. Bless your sister for being able to find where he lives in just a couple of minutes on the internet.

The man who opened the door wasn’t Lando, but Max Fewtrell. His gaze narrowed.

“Who are you?”

“I’m not sure if you remember me... but I met you and Lando at a club in Melbourne last year.”

His eyes saccaded between you and the baby you were holding.

"Lando," he shouted from the doorway. "Stay here. I'll go get him."

Max made his way to one of Lando's rooms, where he was talking to Oscar.

"There's a woman here to see you," he paused. "With a baby. She said she knew you from Melbourne last year."

Lando got up quickly and made his way to the front door. Once he got there, he stared at you and your daughter.

You nodded. "Her name is Camila."

He held his arms out, silently asking to hold her. After you handed Camila to him, he gently rocked her in his arms.

"Come in."

-

You had a very long conversation on the couch with Lando as his two friends eavesdropped from the hallway. They didn't even bother going into another room and closing the door.

"I want to be a part of her life, if that's okay with you?"

You nodded. "Could you start tomorrow?"

"What?" Lando blinked at you.

"My sitter quit, and I have work tomorrow. I checked your race calendar; you just got back from Japan and don't have to go to Shanghai until next week."

"Yeah, but I still have sim and training and-"

"You better hope your physical therapist knows how to rock a baby to sleep then," you said sternly.

"I can help if you want," Oscar piped up. "With Max and I, I'm sure you'll be able to spend some time with your daughter."

You smiled at Oscar. "I'll be leaving you in charge."

That statement elicited an eye roll out of Lando.

He shifted his gaze from Camila to you. "Alright, yeah, I'll take care of her for the next few days."

"Thank you," you placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'll drop her off tomorrow at 10?"

˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖

-The Next Day-

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oscarpiastri babysitting duty

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user7 who's baby?

user3 oscar would be such a cute girl dad

lilyzniemer I agree

user1 🥹

user5 AWWW

user8 that should be me 😔

user2 holding your hand

user9 that should be me

user4 making you laugh

user12 you and lily are so cute :(

˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖

-first is lando's phone, second is yours-

˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖

-A Week Later-

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landonorris life lately

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user7 Shanghai is soooo pretty

user9 so glad china back on the calendar

oscarpiastri proof that instagram is fake

maxfewtrell he's forgetting about sm REALLY important in his "life lately"

user8 ???

user2 @/oscarpiastri @/maxfewtrell what do you know

˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖

˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖

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@littlegrapejuice, | @majx00, | @si1ver06

[55szn]

good luck - mv1

max verstappen x fem!reader smau

summary when max and y/n adopt a black cat and everyone thinks it’s bringing him bad luck, they are determined to prove them wrong

warnings none i think

fc various girls from pinterest

notes requested!💘 loved this so muchhajska (excuse my poor editing skills on this one lol)

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maxverstappen1 not having the season we expected, lots of work ahead.😑

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yourusername ❤️ liked by maxverstappen1

user male acting performance where he’s having the worst day of his life but looks so hot doing it:

user girlsnjasfkja😭

user i’m being so serious rn you HAVE to give that cat to someone else

user first dnf i laughed… second dnf i serioused

user dw i played the dutch anthem at home for you king🧡🧡

user IT’S OKAY POOKIE YOU ARE GONNA WIN ALL OTHER RACES😖😖😖

user not if he doesn’t get rid of that cat lol

maxverstappen1 just uploaded to their story!

[😍🐈‍⬛ @ yourusername] [when the cat steals your gf😑]

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yourusername certified dilf‼️

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maxverstappen1 the last pic??

yourusername gave me dad vibes idk

user so true

user what are the odds of max getting a black cat and immediately starting to get bad results

user ikr

user just a coincidence 🤷‍♀️

user one time thing is a coincidence, two dnfs in a row and then not being able to get a single win in many races… sounds like “black cat curse” to me sorry

user get rid of the cat if you want him to win the championship i’m BEGGING🙏🏻🙏🏻😫😫

user you guys are so ridiculous

user mocha with the max plush omgggggg i might die🥹🥹🥹🥹

user idc what anyone says he is gonna win the championship again and mocha will be forgiven you read it here first

user cat crazy lady + cat crazy dude = perfect match💘

FEW MONTHS LATER

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

yourusername just uploaded to their story!

[4x world champion🥹🧡 i love you so much @ maxverstappen1] [beyond proud🦁🫶🏻]

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing and 201.179 others

yourusername black cat bring good luck 😺 not bad luck 😾 so so proud of you maxie🧡

tagged maxverstappen1

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maxverstappen1 my girls🫶🏻🥰

maxverstappen1 love you❤️

yourusername love you more dilf💘

user just unserious as fuck😭😭

user max calling the cat and yn “his girls” like mocha is his daughter or smth😭

user she is his daughter wdym

redbullracing what an adorable lucky charm😺🍀

yourusername you know it🫡

user queen 🙏🏻

user I KNOW WHO MY GOAT IS🐐🐐 (mocha)

user mocha redemption arc ohhh i’ve been waiting for this one

user FR I ALWAYS BELIEVED IN YOU MOCHA😫

user THEY GOT MOCHA A PADDOCK PASS IM CRYINGGG

user always blessing us with the best max pictures thank u mother🥹

user please god i also want to raise a black kitty with my incredibly hot bf😔😔

user oh to be mocha…

user you don’t understand this lil family is EVERYTHING to me☹️☹️

[mv1simp]

for anon’s request: How about Lewis’ Daughter!reader like innocent and protected but Max completely makes her submit to him like actual love that she thinks Lewis is the bad guy for tryna come between their relationship? (Made it Lewis’ sister!)

Gods & Monsters ♥️

Max Verstappen x Hamilton!Reader

You got that medicine I need, fame liquor love, give it to me slowly…

As Lewis Hamilton’s younger, innocent sister, you’re desperate to prove yourself as an upcoming racer. Your family never seems to take you seriously, though, and after a fall out you end up training under Max Verstappen - your brother’s arch rival. Max promises he’ll train you to become the next world champion…as long as you do everything he asks.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, innocent virgin Hamilton! Reader, dark manipulative! Max, VERY dubcon, blindfolds, size kink, somnophilia, LH44 is sexist for plot reasons, ayo this is DARK!! 😙 3.4k WC

Growing up, you and your big brother Lewis were presented with two options. Either succeed, or fail to live upto the Hamilton name. Both your parents were incredibly hardworking and sacrificing - but all their attention would always go to their firstborn, the much older, bigger and better Hamilton. You were just as good as Lewis had been when starting out, spending every weekend on the track and dominating the junior karting races - but when it came time for you to progress into formula cars, your brother and father had chuckled, patting your head and saying it might be a bit too much for you, you were a lot smaller and younger than Lewis, after all. Maybe you should just stick to karting for now, or had you considered going into car design, you got pretty good grades in uni and that’s a much safer option?

You were understandably upset at the lack of opportunity to prove your last name. So you tried to sneak onto the F1 paddock, chatting up the team principals in the hope that they would recognise you from the karting podiums and recruit you into their junior teams-

But Lewis had caught on unbelievably fast, a tight smile and redirecting hand on your back as he led you out of the McLaren garage. We discussed this, baby sis Lewis said as you walked back to the Mercedes hospitality. He was never one to raise his voice but you could tell from his tone he was disappointed. You tried to argue again, saying that it wasn’t fair, you were a good driver too, but Lewis cut you off with a stern look. It’s not safe for you. The guys who race here - they aren’t like me, lil sis. You can’t trust any of them. I’m sorry, but you should stay in karting.

You’d slumped in resignation, briefly looking into the Redbull garage as you walked past - the only team you hadn’t yet gone to talk to. And home to perhaps the only driver who could understand the pressure you felt to live upto your father’s expectation - current reigning champion, Max Verstappen. Otherwise known as the bane of your family’s existence. He’d been the one to break your big brother’s winning streak, the subject of many a heated family discussion over the dinner table about how to defeat in a race. Truly, you hadn’t seen your big brother hate someone before until the day Max had crashed into him, sending him to the hospital and your heart rate into 200bpm as you prayed for his safety. Lewis had been fine, but his winning streak had not as Max went onto P1 that race.

So you had always learnt to stay far, far away from Mad Max. But last year when you’d been having a hard time on one of your karting races, and you paced back and forth during the red flag because normally you’d ask Lewis for help but he had started coming less often these days - you were interrupted by a knock on the door. You ran to open it, thinking your brother had decided to come after all - only to crane your head up to meet the handsome face of the tall Dutch Redbull driver. You’d immediately flushed, on guard just like your family had taught you to be and asking what he was doing - but he had kindly ignored your rudeness and said he happened to be here for another friend and had seen your race, did you need some advice?

You’d been so desperate to win that you had let him in, looking around to make sure no paparazzi had seen as you were sure Lewis would ban you permanently from karting if he caught a whiff of this. To your suprise, Max was so helpful and supportive, giving you excellent pointers and aggressive strategies your brother would never dare guide you towards. You’d gone onto win P1, and after the podium had excitedly gone to find Max and thank him. Of course, schat, he’d replied easily, a handsome smile on his face, making you blush. Since then Max had always been there to guide you at your races, making you win multiple competitions to celebrate together or comfort you after a loss. Your family had no idea, of course, because they would skin both you and Max alive if they ever knew about your close friendship.

But now, things were starting to reach a boiling point as your relationship with your brother became tense as he actively tried to deter your formula career. And Max - your kind, thoughtful friend Max - had definitely noticed this. So he casually informed you that the Redbull academy was recruiting, and personally drove you the trials the next week, and welcomed your excited hug into his broad arms afterwards as you sailed into P1 and were offered an immediate spot on the Redbull F2 team, so grateful that the older, experienced driver had taken such a genuine interest in your racing, unlike your own family.

When you tried to break the good news to your family, shit had obviously hit the fan and they demanded that you decline the position. It’s not that I’m not proud of you baby sis, Lewis had sighed. It’s that you cannot trust Max Verstappen, seriously - he only thinks about himself. He’ll definitely hurt you or use you to hurt me.

You had screamed and cried, saying that Max had been the only one to look out for you these last few months. You’d called the Dutchman for advice, sniffling and saying I’m sorry Maxie, they won’t let me go, I have to decline-

He’d gently interrupted and reminded you that you’re an adult, you know schat? And an incredibly talented driver. You should put yourself first for a change. You’d hesitated, because you’d never done anything without your family closely supervising you before - but where would you go, you say confused. You didn’t know anyone - you know me, Max offered. Come stay at mine while you sort things out, but don’t let it delay starting your F2 season.

You’d started crying again, telling the Dutch driver how lucky you were to have him as a friend. And that’s how you found yourself tucked into his much larger frame, on his private jet en route to Monaco, fast asleep from the emotionally charged day as he lovingly kissed your forehead. And your temporary residence at his penthouse dragged into months into an indefinite stay as he insisted it was safer for you, given the papparazzi that had gone crazy at the youngest Hamilton sibling switching sides - just for now, until it dies down. You’d gratefully accepted, becoming accustomed to his luxurious lifestyle and wanting to be in close proximity to Max. It was hard to control the thumping of your heart as you scolded yourself internally for your crush on the tall driver, who you were sure only saw you as a junior driver to guide.

Before the season started, Max had warned you that your family would interfere and try to turn you against him. You hadn’t taken it seriously, but when Lewis approached you at your first race, demanded to speak to you in person after you’d been blocking his calls for days, Max had been all to happy to get security to escort him away after you’d started becoming upset, just like he knew you would. Don’t pay any mind to him, schat. He’s probably just jealous of your success.

You’d found that hard to believe, because although your big brother had a few annoying traits, he would always be genuinely happy about your wins. But Max had planted the seed of doubt that began to crumble your inner self worth, questioning if your big bro had only been holding you back because he wanted to remain the family champion. Remaining on edge, your anxiety began damaging your racing and dropping you in the rankings. You slept fretfully, paranoid that you were going to be benched and would be forced to go home in humiliation and hear your family’s we told you so.

You let Max climb into your bed one night when he heard your muffled cries, running a soothing hand up and down your back, hungrily enjoying the view of your thick ass as your silky nightie rode up while you sobbed into his strong chest. And when you opened up about all your worries, it was only natural that he offered to be the one to train you, being the current world champion and all, right? You had lit up, so delighted that he had offered, flushed because truly you’d never met anyone so kind and giving like him.

And Max - well, he would never let an opportunity to get back at Lewis slide by. Training his precious little sister, the one he always protectively hid away from the rest of the grid? Oh, it was almost too perfect, he thought darkly. And it was an added bonus that you were so gorgeous, all dark curls, innocent doe eyes and a soft, curvy 5 foot figure under his almost 6 foot frame. But my training is intense, schat. Very strict. He made you promise that you’d do whatever he asked, no matter how you felt, because it was the only way to win - and that you couldn’t tell anyone else about his top secret training methods, especially your big brother. You’d eagerly nodded your agreement, looking up at him with starry eyes and saying Yes Maxie, of course, I trust you, thank you so much for offering, I’m so grateful!

As the weeks went by, Max proved himself to be the best mentor you could ask for. You two would train together, going on morning jogs, drinking the same protein smoothies, discussing the best overtaking techniques. All the time you two spent together made rumours fly around the paddock about the exact nature of your relationship - but Max dismissed them all with a roll of his eyes, telling you that it was so sexist of people to assume you were his girlfriend and not his junior driver. You’d agreed, althought you couldn’t help feeling disappointed that Max didn’t seem to think about you in a romantic sense at all.

Your rankings started improving, but Max had said that you needed a lot more work if you wanted to reach P1, especially given your smaller size compared to the rest of the drivers. You nodded eagerly, curious when he easily picked you up and deposited you in between his thick thighs on his sim rig, ordering you to show him your driving. You’d been doing so well until he started brushing his large hands across your soft waist and whispering naughty things in your ear about how sexy you looked, how hard it was to resist you every night while you slept right next door to him. You’d squealed, confused and asking just what he was doing - Trying to test your ability to focus, to avoid any distractions, Max replies disapprovingly as your car crashed on the screen. Clearly, you have a lot of work to do. This isn’t good enough!

Oh, you’d replied, feeling foolish for thinking anything romantic of it. Max didn’t like you like that, after all. So you two resumed the daily sessions, him torturing you for hours with caresses all over your body, squeezing your soft tits and pinching your nipples through your tight camisoles, and sliding large fingers up the skirt he’d always make you wear to tease your embarrassingly damp slit. You’d gone pink in the face when he first felt it, stuttering out apologies but he just sweetly reassured you that it wasn’t your fault, just a normal reaction - like this, he’d said, pulling your small waist back so you grinded on something very large and hard tucked into his sweats. You’d never felt something like that before, having never had a boyfriend since your family always kept you under their protective eye.

But it felt sooo good, you thought guiltily, hoping Max wouldn’t mind when you would be unable to resist grinding against him some sessions. He never seemed to care, instead progressing you to the next level by slipping his cock out of his sweats one night and letting it bounce up against your most innocent parts. You had gone wide eyed seeing it for the first time, not expecting it to look soo big and thick and angry, making your stomach twist in fear. But it was business as usual as Max angrily scolded you for becoming distracted, making you restart as he began gliding his cock along your puffy folds - always separated by your soaked lace panties, of course.

Once you had become a master at being laser focused, he made you develop your senses next. A good driver is always in tune with the feel, the smell, the sound of the car, he explains. You don’t question him, obediently drooping onto your thick ass in front of his spread thighs as he wraps a silk tie across your eyes. You bite your lip from the sudden disorientation, feeling nervous, but Max’s large palm comfortingly strokes your hair. At his command you poke your tongue out and hold your palms up, waiting for the first test and he almost groans out loud from your sweet gullibility. You correctly identify a bunch of different exotic tasting fruits, specific switches and buttons on the replica steering wheel - and sassy, you giggle, when you feel Max’s cat climb into your lap. He muses that he’s going to have to give you something harder to figure out cause you’re so good as this, making you blush from the praise. You curiously hear a rustle as he steps closer and then he guides your small hands to something very long and thick. You experimentally rub your hands along it, hearing Max hiss. A banana? You say dumbly after a few beats, Cucumber?

Wrong, Max says, sounding a bit breathless. Why don’t you taste it, hmm? You diligently lick the tip of it with your delicate tongue, not recognising the heady, salty taste, and begin licking more and more as you become determined to figure it out. You don’t know how many minutes have passed but you aren’t any closer to guessing it, instead saying It tastes really good, Maxie, what is it? You hear him swear, grip tightening in your hair, and then he orders you to open your mouth wide to get a proper taste, his normally deep voice even huskier than normal. You feel him trace your plush lips with his thumb, making you feel that dirty tingly feeling in between your legs again, before the mysterious warm and thick length is shoved down your throat, making you gag uncontrollably. You whine, trying to pull back and breathe, but Max’s strong hand doesn’t let up as he roughly shoves it in and out of your tight mouth.

Tears drip down your cheeks at the intensity and you’re drooling messily, but Max doesn’t seem to care one bit and you might’ve imagined it but you thought you hear the click of multiple photos being taken. Guessed what it is yet, schat? Max asks mockingly, and you whine, shaking your head. Too bad, maybe this will help you figure it out. He pushes the whole length past your lips as you feel something thick and creamy flood your mouth, giving you no option but to swallow it, licking your lips to try figure out the taste. Afterwards, Max had gently taken the blindfold off, revealing his flushed face, and wipes your tears away sweetly. Sorry I didn’t get the last answer, you say guiltily, upset that you had no clue. It’s alright, doll, Max reassured, I’m sure you’ll get it next time, yeah?

Another thing that you needed to improve was your endurance and stamina. F2 races were a lot more demanding than karting, Max pointed out, noticing how tired you would be after a race. He increased the frequency of your runs and workouts, always helping you stretch before and letting his dark gaze hungrily linger on your pliant body underneath him. You’d wear the cutest little yoga shorts and sports bras, leaving your sensitive chocolate-toned skin on display for him, and it was almost too easy to accidentally slide in between your legs or brush the swell of your breasts as he stretched you out, bending your legs right back up over your head and leaving you breathless. But it wasn’t enough for Max as you consistently scored on the podium now but never P1. So he proposed the ultimate endurance training, that all the F1 drivers did regularly - fucking.

Fu-you mean, making love?! You’d shrieked hysterically, whipping your head up as he brought it up casually when you two were watched a movie, cuddled up on the couch. He’d smirked, Sure darling, making love.

You’d looked nervous, like a deer in headlights, telling him you weren’t sure, you felt uncomfortable doing that for the first time…but Max’s stormy expression left no room for discussion. Everyone on the grid does it, all the time. Even your older brother, he said condescendingly. It’s a pretty good stress relief. Trust me, your driving will become so much faster.

You innocently eat up Max’s blatant lies, hesitantly asking if you should get a boyfriend then, that cute engineer from the Redbull garage had asked you out after all- No! Max says heatedly, glaring furiously at the thought of some other man laying their hands on what belonged to him. You look at him, confused how he expects you to- I mean, no, it’s fine schat, it’s part of your training after all, so I’ll take care of you, okay?

You flushed prettily, biting your lip and squeezing your thighs together at the thought of Max taking your virginity, as your romantic feelings had only grown the more time you spent with him. And soon enough, later that night, Max had climbed into your bed again to find you shyly waiting for him, dressed in that silky nightie he liked. Pulling it up over your hips, he moved your lace panties to the side and made you blush as he hungrily eyed your dripping innocence, just like he’d done many times while you’d been peacefully sleeping, unaware of the twisted desires your mentor had for you. He’d then stretched you out on his thick fingers, then replaced them with his even thicker cock - no condom, of course - sickly enjoying the tears streaming down your face as you sweetly moaned from pain and pleasure. Within minutes he was claiming you as his, sending you spiralling into orgasm after orgasm, screaming his name as you fell apart from overstimulation.

Max smirked at your small frame that was now passed out below him - you’d need a lot more training if this is all you could handle, he thought darkly as he gripped your petite waist, easily continuing to move you up and down his fat cock like a ragdoll. You moan blissfully in your sleep as he stretched out your virgin cunny. Maybe multiple times a day, Max decided, cause you just felt too damn good. In his bed next time, on the kitchen counter, in your driver’s room before the race and then maybe again after- and at least once in a hotel room where he neighboured Lewis. He could just imagine your wide eyes, teary from panic as you struggled to keep your moans quiet, begging him Maxie please, please not so rough as his thrusts repeatedly banged the headboard against the wall, making it clear to his rival just what kind of filthy things Max Verstappen was doing to his precious little sister.

The dirty, possessive thought makes him cum with a guttural moan, pumping you full of his generous load as he buries his flushed face in between your pretty tits to lick and bite at them. But what Max most looked forward to was the look on Lewis’ face when you would eventually show up to the paddock one day, F2 trophy in hand and a glittering rock on your ring finger to match, beaming in anticipation of replacing the Hamilton surname with Verstappen.

And no, Max would not be inviting him to the wedding.

—————————————————————————

A/N: ok anyways. This is a ridiculous amount of smut for me to have churned out in less than a day I need to touch some grass 🙏 as always lmk what you think and send in some more requests!

[lewisvinga]

truly mothering | max verstappen x fem! reader

summary; news about y/n mysteriously retiring from mercedes shocked the f1 world in the middle of the 2020 season. what shocked them even more was when she appeared on the paddock four years later…

fc; various girls on pinterest

warnings; ?

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1

note; requested ! mix of smau + written ! also one of the tweets was supposed to say 2017-2020 instead of 2016-2020 lol

word count; 700

masterlist !

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“Arabella, Angelina! Wait up!” Y/n exclaims as the nearly 4-year-olds run towards a familiar man clad in skinny jeans and a Red Bull shirt. She ignored the cameras on her and recorded as she ran across the paddock with heels to chase after her twin daughters.

“Papa!” The eldest of the two, Arabella, exclaims when she sees her father surrounded by a group of other drivers.

“Bella! Angel!” Max loudly exclaims, stepping back from the conversation to crouch down to the level of his daughters. Arabella wrapped her arms around him and Angelina quickly followed. The Dutch driver kissed their rosy cheeks as they giggled at their father's actions.

“You both look very pretty.” He said, pulling away for a moment.

“Mama dress us,” Angelina said in a softer voice compared to Arabella’s shout.

Y/n appeared moments later and was clearly out of breath from chasing the two. “Your daughters don’t listen, Verstappen. I cannot chase after them in heels.” She said out of breath, not noticing the shocked yet happy looks from the drivers.

“Oh my goodness, is that Arabella and Angelina?”

A familiar voice caused the two blonde girls to look up. “Uncle Lew!” The youngest, Angelina, exclaimed as she escaped from her father's grasp to hug the Mercedes driver.

Lewis was quick to scoop her up into his arms as Arabella also gave him a tight hug. He was Angelina’s favorite uncle, but Arabella’s favorite was actually his future teammate.

“Wow, you two are getting big!” Charles exclaimed, picking up Arabella who let out a laugh. “How old are you girls now?”

“Almost four!” The eldest replied as she held up her 4 fingers.

“Wow, Y/n, I’m surprised you actually came,” Lando said with a chuckle as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

They all knew the truth of why she retired. It was because she was 3 months pregnant with twins. Although she kept it a secret from the public, she was always close with the grid hence why they weren’t shocked about the twins but more so shocked that she’s back on the paddock.

“About time the twins know the paddock,” Y/n replied with a smile, watching the twins chat with their favorite uncles. “Plus, it’s nice to be back. It’s been ages. The girls should also know how cool their mama was.”

“Was? She still is.” Max corrected her.

“Yeah, but Mama doesn’t race anymore.”

“Mama drive with you?” Angelina asked Lewis. He let out a laugh, his eyes crinkling as he glanced at Y/n.

“Yeah, and she was a great teammate. But be careful, Y/n, Toto might convince you to replace me.”

His words caused her to laugh as she shook her head. “Gee, no thanks. These girls are tough to handle on their own. I don’t know if I could handle racing on top of that.” She sighs, reaching over to fix Angelina’s messy blonde curls.

“These babies? Difficult? Angelina and Arabella are angels!” Charles said in an exaggerated tone as he squeezed Arabella tightly.

Y/n leans in close to Charles and glances at Max, “Between you and me, they take after their father.”

“Hey!” The Dutch driver exclaimed, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means go get ready for the race.”

At the reminder of the race, Lewis and Charles set the twins down and quickly said goodbye to also prepare. The rest of the drivers soon followed leaving the family of 4 alone.

Max turned to the smiley twins who stared at their favorite uncles walk away. His eyebrows furrowed up as he looked at Y/n who just let out a chuckle while shaking her head.

He focused back on the twins and crouched down again. “How about a hug and a kiss for your papa?” He suggested. The twins didn’t have to be told twice and were quick to run back into their fathers arms, each giving him a peck on the cheek.

“Papa, you win okay?” Arabella demanded as Angelina nodded in agreement. Max laughs, giving his daughters one last tight squeeze.

“If I win for you both and for Mama, we can have ice cream for dinner. How does that sound?”

His deal caused the two girls to cheer in excitement as Y/n sighed again. “You’re dealing with their sugar rush, Verstappen.”

“Not if I’m a race winner!”

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liked by maxverstappen1, lewishamilton, and others !

yourusername: the girls loved seeing their papa win! ( but they loved seeing their favorite uncles more! ) congratulations on another win, my love! we’re all proud💗

tagged; maxverstappen1

maxverstappen1: i don’t like how they were looking at lewis and charles….

yourusername: they take after their father! they like pretty drivers 😁 especially angelina, she is team merc like her mama🙈

maxverstappen1: team merc? she’s all yours!

username: tears the twins are just like me fr

maxverstappen1: i love you❤️liked by yourusername !

username: MOTHER RETURNED AND SHE’S A FR MOTHER??

username: SHES BACKKK

username: she looks so good as a mom🥰🥰

username: SHE WAS DATING MAX THIS WHOLEEEE TIME??

username: bye so the baby f1 rumor was true except it was twins and w MAX???

carmenmmundt: such sweethearts 🥹🥹

francisca.cgomes: i know! such cuties💗

yourusername: ugh they love their auntie carmen & kika! they keep asking about you both😅💓

username: stoppp you guys rmbr when she said her biggest dream was becoming a mother 🥹🥹🥹

username: in her merc days💔💔 i love seeing her dream come true 🙁

lewishamilton: best part of this weekend was seeing the coolest gals on the paddock😎

yourusername: angelina won’t take her 44 merc hat off!!

charles_leclerc: my favorite verstappen are the twins

maxverstappen1: woah now….

yourusername: ( arabella is secretly team ferrari )

maxverstappen1: WHAT

username:will i get over this? no!

username: i am SHOCKED

username: from her party girl rookie era to being a mother, wow i love y/n🥹

mercedesamgf1: we miss the princess of the paddock!🩵

yourusername: and i miss my merc crew🤍

redbullracing: welcome arabella and angelina to the red bull crew! ❤️ liked by yourusername and maxverstappen1 !

username: in her birkin mom era

username: mother truly is mothering 😩😩

[leclercwriting]

little verstappen | max verstappen social media au

pairing: max verstappen x wife!reader basically max being girl dad coded

masterlist

y/n.verstappen

liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing and 741.698 others

caption: daddy's lucky charm

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landonorris: where is my lucky charm when i need it?

y/n.verstappen: sorry shes only supporting max maxverstappen1: stop stealing my daughter lando

user4: Omgg i love girl dad max

danielricciardo: P is so cute

maxverstappen1: thanks but if you saw her when she has to go shower u wouldn't write this y/n.verstappen: that's true...

user5: she's mini version of max

y/n.verstappen: i knoow. she's his little copy. AFTER I WAS CARYING HER FOR ALMOST A YEAR!!!! victoriaverstappen: verstappen genes are strong. People still think that my kids are max's kids....

maxverstappen1

liked by y/n.verstappen, danielricciardo and 748.614 others

caption: who's gonna tell daniel that he's babysitting P in 2 days?

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danielricciardo: I'M WHAT?! EMILIAN

y/n.verstappen: oopps. sorry but you're uncle danny and uncle danny is called for the babysitting duties maxverstappen1: we're gonna pay you don't worry danielricciardo: I DON'T NEED MONEY. I'M NOT GONNA BABYSIT THAT MINI MAX landonorris: stop screaming dude maxverstappen1: uh lando we need you to babysit P on wednesday.. landonorris: BRO

user5: the comments lol

user8: poor danny boy

user67: i love this family

danielricciardo

liked by y/nverstappen, maxverstappen and 847,557 others

caption: the best uncle reward goes to me because i was forced to babysit this little devil

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maxverstappen1: thanks for your service

landonorris: now im next...

user55: someone save lando user25: SOMEONE SAVE PENELOPE. LANDO IS THE CHILD

user6: danny is really the best uncle

maxverstappen1: he is

landonorris

liked by y/n.verstappen, maxverstappen1 and 854.585 others

caption: future mclaren driver

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maxverstappen1: GET HER AWAY FROM THE MCLAREN CAR

landonorris: naaah, she likes orange cars y/n.verstappen: max is having heart attack next to me

user7: not lando making max's daughter a mclaren fan

danielricciardo: she's not mclaren fan.. boooooo

landonorris: shut up muppet

mclaren: new mclaren reserve driver

user45: lool poor max

maxverstappen1

liked by landonorris, redbullracing and 742,563 others

caption: enjoyed our time alone until lando tried to turn my baby into mclaren fan

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landonorris: she was born a mclaren fan. orange suits her

maxverstappen1: yeah orange suits her. but the dutch one

user7: this is still too funny

user122: why is no one talking about them?? i need to have husband like max

y/n.verstappen: u need great wife like me maxverstappen1: everybody needs their y/n

redbullracing: P has a place in our team already

y/n.verstappen

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris and 984,526 others

caption: and now the best part. summer break with the verstappens

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user7: yall are too cute

y/n.verstappen: tysm

user85: I LOVE THEM. P IS SO BIG

maverstappen1: our baby is growing up so fast

landonorris: family goals

danielricciardo: you cant even take care of a goldfish u muppet

[ssahotchnerr]

GIRL 👏🏻 DAD 👏🏻 AARON 👏🏻 learning how to do his wife’s hair so he can do baby girls hair when she’s grown

uncharted territory

YOU'RE 👏🏻 SO 👏🏻 RIGHT 👏🏻 cw; girl dad!aaron, fem!reader, some small suggestiveness, fluff <3

"can i braid your hair?"

you looked at aaron as your book dropped onto your lap, both a bit bewildered and astonished, "can you what?"

"braid your hair." the expression adorned on his face was almost troubled as he approached you, and rather shyly at that, actually.

"that's what i thought you said." your eyebrow quirked, displaying a caring and soft confusion. "why?"

"jus' something penelope said today, it made me realize that i don't know how to do hair. never had the need to learn with jack." the grumpiness on his face didn't falter, a small huff escaping him. "i know she doesn't have much of it now, but i don't want to be one of those dads who attempt to do their daughter's hair, it's a phenomenal disaster, and it looked better off before i even touched it. i refuse to send her off somewhere someday looking like she went through a windstorm."

"aaron, honey, i don't think you're capable of anything too disastrous." you teased gently, but with full reassurance.

he almost smiled, the ends of his lips tugging upwards, but evidently he wasn't fully convinced. "so can i? i need the practice, desperately."

"of course," you nodded, scooting towards the center of the bed and sitting cross-legged, aaron seated behind you.

once situated, he took your hair gingerly into his hands, "how do i..."

"you're going to want to separate it into three sections," you started, pausing to let him do so. "kinda gather it like a ponytail to get started."

"okay, that i've done before."

"yeah, you're good at that." you rolled your eyes, a faint blush tinting your cheeks and you could easily picture the smirk that was definitely plastered on aaron's face. "you good?"

"i think so."

"take the right side, and cross it over the middle section." you instructed, again giving him a small window of time to weave your hair gently. "then do the same on the left, the right section should have switched places with the middle."

"mhm." aaron hummed gently in confirmation, biting down softly onto his lip in concentration, crossing the left section over the now center.

"and just repeat down, alternating as you just did."

"that's it?"

"that's literally it."

aaron repeated the cycle, braiding with ease. "and i'm not hurting you? am i pulling-"

"no no no, you're completely fine." you reached a bit behind, your hand finding his knee and giving it a comforting squeeze. "keep going."

although it was a simple braid, his fingers nearly got tangled a few times, due to the size of said fingers and the limited, slightly tight space that came along with braiding. he also tugged your head back and forth a small amount, but you followed the direction of his gentle pulls. as he worked silently, your heart could only swell at his genuine concern and want to learn - just for your little girl.

once he reached the end of your braid, you tore off the hair tie that was conveniently around your wrist. "secure with this."

aaron was quick learner in nature; he watched you intently as you pulled your braid over your shoulder to inspect it quickly. it was a bit loose, a tad crooked, but the gist of it was there - almost perfect.

you peered behind at him, thoroughly impressed. "not bad."

"really?" aaron asked surprisingly, but with an utterly pleased expression.

"but don't get too cocky," you narrowed your eyebrows playfully, swiveling to face him. "this is the easy one to master. there's french braids, dutch, fishtail. one day she'll want one braid, maybe two the next. trust me, it's bound to get way more complicated than this."

the proud gleam in his eyes faded a bit as his face blanched, pulling into a pained expression, deadpanning. "you're kidding."

"but don't worry, we have plenty of time."

[formulawolff]

"just one dance" - t.w.

pairing: horner's daughter!reader x toto wolff

word count: 1.9k

warnings: toto lusting after a woman thirty years younger than him (what's new on this blog lmfao), sexual references, maybe some cursing (idrk), mentions of drug use, alcohol use, flirting, banter, yadayadayada

a/n: i played "here" by alessia cara like 20x on repeat while writing this fic. so we could say that this fic is veryyyyy loosely inspired by that song. also! this was a request by an anon! i hope y'all enjoy! <3

"come on," the words as slurred as he rolls his eyes, "come dance with us!"

bringing your hand to your mouth, you stifle a giggle, "max, for the last time, i am not joining the horny middle school grind circle you guys have going on over there."

"it's not a grind circle," he puts his hands on his hips, "i would say it's more like a mosh pit."

which, given the occasion, was not quite appropriate either.

at the moment, you were perched at one of the many elegant banquet tables, the rigid surfaced draped with a thick, cream-colored tablecloth. adorning the table were numerous vases, filled to the brim with floral arrangements, their fragrance oh so sickeningly sweet.

the plates, utensils, and other various dining ware were now cleared, only leaving numerous wine glasses, their crystalline stems glimmering in the dim light, swathed by the golden hue of the chandeliers as they sparkle above.

this was the annual fia prize gala, one of the most coveted events of the season. it was the showcasing and peacocking of sheer and utter wealth, as the drivers got to pull up to in their luxury vehicles, their keys handed off to the valets. every individual was dressed head to toe in designer clothing from nearly every brand possible, from christian dior to saint laurent.

you lost track of the amount of rolex watches, cartier jewelry, and hermès bags you noticed throughout the course of the evening.

the main event wrapped up hours ago, leaving the rest of the night for the drivers, crew members, mechanics, engineers, executives, and team principals to mingle and dance. and well, consume copious amounts of alcohol.

and well, perhaps do a few lines in the restroom. or light a joint outside. maybe even pop a few pills.

with the exuberant amounts of cash involved with events like this, there were surely some illicit affairs. ones that the fia ignored, simply turning their heads.

if they didn't see it, it didn't happen.

after all, you were in monaco. it was like las vegas in a way.

what happened in monaco, stayed in monaco.

and here max verstappen was, three-time world champion, standing before you, so drunk he could barely walk, begging for you to come join him on the dance floor.

too bad your phone was almost dead.

this would have been a prime opportunity to record what was unfolding before you. it would have fed the max girlies all over instagram and tik tok for months.

glancing over max's shoulder, you pick out lando, oscar, charles, and carlos. they were apart of the large formation, jumping up and down, barreling into one another. alexandra, rebecca, and lily linger around the group, their gowns swishing as they laugh, their cheeks dusted with a bubblegum pink glow.

a drunken mosh pit with a bunch of sweaty men? no thank you.

but gossiping with the girls? that was more your speed.

"my dad would have a stroke if he caught me with you guys," you simply shrug, sipping on your wine, "and what if something happened to my dress? we have to return this, you know."

"ugh," the dutch driver groans, "you're no fun."

"hallo, max," a new voice cuts in, thick with an accent you can't quite place your finger on, "congratulations on your accomplishment this year!"

shifting in your chair is none other than torger christian wolff, better known as toto wolff, team prinicipal of mercedes.

your heart skips a beat as your eyes drink in the sight of him, the way his crisp tuxedo fit him effortlessly. his dark brunette hair was messy, more than likely from the events of the evening. his bowtie was untied, hanging loosely around his neck. the first few buttons of the snowy white dress shirt were undone, exposing his skin.

fuck, was he a gorgeous man.

with sharp cheekbones, a chiseled jawline, and wide, beautiful coffee brown eyes, he knew that he was attractive, his aura brimmed with nothing but sexiness and dominance.

his hands land on the chair beside you, pulling it out as max rambles, the words drowning out in your ears.

you were more focused on his stature as he sits to your right, his thighs spread in the chair, a hand running through his hair.

"is there a reason why i haven't seen you on the dance floor?"

due to the excessive volume of the music, his mouth hovers by your ear. a shiver runs down your spine as his eyes lock with yours, lips forming a radiant smile, flashing his perfect pearlescent teeth.

"cat got your tongue? or are you just as intoxicated as maxie boy over there?"

"neither," you counter, straightening in your chair, "just not really interested, that's all."

"did daddy not give his precious diamond any dance lessons growing up?"

your father was none other than christian horner, team principal of red bull racing, sworn enemy of toto wolff.

quickly, your eyes scan your surroundings, in an attempt to pick out your father among the throng of people. to your dismay, you cannot find him.

which, in this case, could be a good thing.

if he saw toto speaking to you? oh fuck. it would be game over. you'd probably be grounded at your big age of twenty-four years old. could parents even do that when you were an adult?

you didn't really want to find out.

yet, you couldn't turn down a few moments with the team principal.

after all, this was a once in a lifetime opportunity.

why not seize it?

for most of your life, you obeyed every single one of your father's wishes. you maintained your distance from the red bull drivers, careful not to get too close. you stayed out of the spotlight, ensuring that no negative publicity ever came his way. as much as you yearned to get to know members of the mercedes team or crew, you shied away, maintaining the promise that you would never befriend a rival.

so, for this one night, you could be a little selfish.

just this once.

even if it involved your father's biggest foe. the bane of his existence. the man he spoked about so bitterly for years on end.

"i was offered dance lessons, actually," your voice is melodic, like an angel's from the heavens above, "i turned them down. opted for horseback riding instead."

"so you know how to ride?" the team principal runs a tongue along his lower lip, his brow slightly raised, "well, i have an offer for you. one dance with me, and then later you can show me how well you can ride."

"and what am i going to be riding?" you inquire, folding your arms across your chest.

the corners of his lips curl into a devious smirk, an emotion glinting within the mocha depths as he leans in, "my cock."

heat flourishes into your cheeks, seeping all throughout your body. as your mind scrambles, struggling to formulate some sort of witty response, the team principal nods, "not expecting that, were you? i like seeing you like this, all flustered. it's cute."

"y-you're ridiculous," you manage to sputter out, hands instinctively shielding your face.

"not as ridiculous as any of those fools," his head motions towards the group of rambunctious drivers, "tell me, why aren't you with any of them? i'm sure maxie boy would love to take you on a date. lando too."

"just not interested," you shrug, regaining your confidence a tad, "don't get me wrong, they've asked. but i've always just turned them down."

toto cocks his head, his voice laced with a tease, "why? scared daddy is going to ground you for dating a driver?"

"i just rather wouldn't be involved with anyone of them romantically," you wave a hand, "it'd be too awkward if things didn't end up working out. could you imagine having to spend so much time at the paddock with someone who your dad could fire at any given moment? it'd be like walking on eggshells. i'd feel bad for any poor soul who wants to court me. they'd constantly be seeking my father's approval, on and off the track."

"well it's a good thing that i already know where i stand," toto shoots you a wink, your heart thudding against your rib-cage as he offers you his hand, "come on, just one dance. that's all i ask of you, gorgeous girl. one dance and then you can come right back over here, spending the rest of your night sulking in the corner."

"i haven't been sulking," you snort, accepting the gesture, "i've just been bored."

"how about you accept the other half of my offer then?" his accent is prominent, lingering in every word, "i've just been flirting, you don't really have to ride me. unless you know, you want to-"

"are you forgetting that we're in a very public space?" you hiss, elbow interlocked with his as you make your way to the dance floor, "people can probably hear you."

"good thing we're all drunk," he responds, the casual delivery sending you spiraling, "here, place your hand on my shoulder. i'll take this hand. the other will go on your waist."

as you follow his lead, you can't help but feel the pairs of eyes fixate on the two of you, murmurs rising above the music. yet, toto's focus is honed in on you, and only you.

"don't worry about them," he takes a step forward, your feet following in suit, "they're probably just envious that i'm with the most coveted woman in all of formula one."

"you don't mean that."

"oh schatzi," a chuckle rumbles in his chest, flowing from his lips, "do you not hear the things they say about you among the paddocks?"

"enlighten me then," your heart swells as his thumb tenderly kneads into your waist, fingers interlocking with yours.

his mouth is merely centimeters away from yours now, dimples apparent as his eyes glitter like the chandeliers above, "there's whispers that you are the most breathtaking woman in the world. the drivers talk about you all of the time, debating who would look the best by your side. you're a hot commodity. a prize to be won."

"people say those things about me?"

"would i ever lie to you?" toto arched a brow, "i have no reason to."

"that is true."

there's a twinge of resentment that bubbles up in your stomach as the song ends. oh how this moment ended too soon.

way too soon.

"still no sign of your father," toto's voice is hushed, barely audible over the music, "you think i could have you for just one more song? after that, i promise i'll leave you be."

"i think so," you feel a smile form the moment he pulls you in closer, the space between you crumbling away, "careful, mr. wolff. you need to maintain some sort of distance between us, remember?"

he shakes his head, fingers squeezing your waist, "right now, i could give any fucks what your father would think. he's lucky that i have some sort of self-control."

"and why is that?" you press, blood roaring in your ears as his head lowers, situated by your ear.

"because it is taking everything within me to keep myself from getting on my knees right this instant and lifting up that gown of yours."

[amirasainz]

Ooooh can you please do reader is Lewis daughter and she’s a big daddy’s girl and she has everyone wrapped around her finger, including the stoic Toto?

AHH! I had so much fun writing this. I love the idea of Lewis being a girl dad. I hope y'all enjoy reading this and send me some requests! -XoXo

Daddy's little love

“Who is your favourite Disney Princess, Baby?” asked Anthony, Lewis’ dad, to his 4-year-old granddaughter. Cassie, who was busy getting her beautiful, long, curly hair done by her grandmother Linda, turned to Anthony with the biggest grin on her face.

“Tiana,” she proudly stated. “TIANA? Why’s that, hm?” he asked her, now sporting the same huge grin as the girl in the living room. “Because she is the prettiest of them all. And her prince is better than the other ones. OH, and their friends are so cool, because Ray is a firefly and his wife is a star. And their other friend, the crocodile, Louis, can play the trumpet. Oh, and Mama Odie makes the best gumbo in the whole wide world,” she answered, running towards Anthony.

The older Hamilton immediately picked her up, sitting little Cassie in front of him on the kitchen counter. “Ohh, is that so, young lady?” he jokingly asked her. “UHU,” she answered with a duh-tone. “Really?” “Uhu.” “Really.” Now the game between Cassie and her Poppy started.

Linda, who knew that this little game of theirs could go on for hours, called towards the young girl. “Cassie, honey, we still need to do your hair.” “But I don’t wanna, Loveyyyyy,” whined the 4-year-old. “Nuhu, don’t even look at me with those puppy eyes of yours,” she told her. However, Cassie tried to find a way out of the situation. “But why can’t Daddy do it for me?” she whined again. “You know why, Baby. Daddy can’t make those braids that you like,” Anthony answered, sensing the beginning of a little tantrum.

Both Anthony and Linda knew that Cassie hated getting her hair done. If the young Hamilton could, she would always have it open. However, with the hot weather and her playing the whole time with her cousins in the garden, everyone knew it was better to braid it back.

Before anyone could say anything else, a figure appeared in the doorway. “What’s that I’m hearing about Daddy?” asked Lewis, who was finally back home after the Mexican GP. He looked tired but happy. “DADDY!” squealed the young girl, immediately running towards her father with outstretched arms. Lewis, who knew his daughter better than himself, picked her up in his arms and held her close, releasing a sigh of relief now that he finally had his baby back in his arms. Her laughter was like music to his ears, and he couldn’t help but smile as she giggled like crazy while he kissed her cheeks repeatedly.

After a moment, he stopped and greeted her with the biggest smile ever. “Hello, my little love,” he said, his voice filled with warmth and affection. He could feel the stress of the race melting away as he held her.

Remembering the conversation he walked into, he carefully petted her hair and told her, “Go on, love. Let Lovey finish your hair, then we can go outside swimming.” Cassie pouted, her lower lip jutting out adorably. “But Daddy—” she began, her eyes wide with pleading. “Nuh-uh, Honey. Don’t even try it with me,” Lewis said, his tone gentle but firm. Cassie released the biggest sigh on earth before stomping towards her grandmother, her tiny feet making exaggerated thuds on the floor.

Thankfully, her older cousin Willow was also now in the living room, so the two cousins could play a game while Linda finished the two Dutch braids. Willow, always the patient one, smiled and pulled out a board game, setting it up on the coffee table. “Come on, Cassie, let’s play while Grandma finishes your hair,” she said, her voice soothing.

Lewis, who was watching the whole situation with an amused smile, turned towards his father and hugged him. “It’s good to have you back, boy,” Anthony whispered in his ear, his voice thick with emotion. “It’s good to be back, Dad,” Lewis answered while releasing the hug. He felt a wave of gratitude for his family, who always supported him no matter what.

After a moment, Lewis’s face turned serious, and he looked at his dad. “Hey, can we talk for a minute?” he asked. Anthony, sensing the gravity of the situation, turned his full attention to his son. With an encouraging nod, Lewis began.

“Dad, you know how important the Brazil Grand Prix is for me, right? This year, I was thinking of taking Cassie with me. This race isn’t just significant for me, but also for Mercedes. Plus, it’s my last year with the team,” he explained, his voice tinged with emotion.

Anthony took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts before responding. “Lewis, I understand how crucial this race is for you, but why do you feel the need to take Cassie with you?” he asked, his brow furrowed in concern.

“Well, Dad, it’s going to be such a meaningful race for me, and I want my favorite person there with me. Besides, the team and the other drivers are always asking about her. And Gloria, you know, Cassie’s babysitter, will also be there. She can watch over her while I’m racing,” Lewis replied, his eyes pleading for understanding.

Anthony paused for a moment, considering his son’s words. “Okay, I think that’s a really sweet idea. And we both know how much Cassie loves traveling with her daddy,” he said with a warm smile.

“Thanks, Dad. I guess I just needed to hear from someone that my idea isn’t completely insane,” Lewis said, relief washing over his face.

“No, don’t worry about it. Now go tell the little princess the good news,” Anthony encouraged, giving his son a reassuring pat on the back.

After an uneventful flight and a good nights rest, the little trio entered the paddock the next morning. Cassie clutched her father’s hand tightly as they walked into the bustling paddock. The young girl, with her curly hair bouncing in the warm breeze, wore a bright purple cap that read "Daddy's little Champion". It was a sea of activity, with mechanics, engineers, and media personnel buzzing around. This was Cassie’s first time attending a race outside of Silverstone, and her wide eyes took in every detail with a mix of awe and excitement.

Lewis,, was a seasoned pro in this environment, but today he felt a bit different. He was not just a world-class driver; he was an overprotective dad. He kept a close eye on Cassie, making sure she stayed close and safe amidst the chaos. The media quickly noticed the duo, and cameras started flashing, capturing the tender moments between father and daughter.

Lewis’s smile was tight as he waved politely to the cameras, but inside, he was less than thrilled about the attention. He had always been protective of Cassie, and the thought of her being in the spotlight made him uneasy. He bent down to her level, his voice gentle but firm. “Stay close to me, okay, Cassie? There’s a lot going on here.”

Cassie nodded, her curly hair bouncing with the movement. “Okay, Daddy.”

Beside them, Gloria, the babysitter, walked with a calm demeanor. At around 50 years old, she had a reassuring presence that both Lewis and Cassie appreciated. Gloria had been with the family for a while and knew how to keep Cassie entertained and safe. She smiled at Cassie, holding out a small toy car. “Look, Cassie, it’s just like Daddy’s car!”

Cassie’s face lit up as she took the toy, momentarily distracted from the overwhelming environment. Lewis gave Gloria a grateful nod. “Thanks, Gloria. I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

Gloria chuckled softly. “Just doing my job, Lewis. You focus on the race; I’ll keep an eye on our little racer here.”

As they made their way through the paddock, more media attention followed. Lewis did his best to shield Cassie from the cameras, but it was clear that their presence was a big deal. He sighed inwardly, wishing for a bit more privacy for his daughter. But seeing Cassie’s excitement and knowing Gloria was there to help made it all worthwhile.

“Alright, Cassie,” Lewis said, lifting her up so she could see over the crowd. “Let’s go find a good spot to watch the race. It’s going to be an exciting day.”

Cassie giggled, her nervousness melting away as she felt the familiar comfort of her father’s arms. With Gloria by their side, they were ready to face the day, media attention and all.

As they walked to the Garage, Cassie's wide eyes took in the sight of the famous cars, the hustle of the crew and the vibrant colours of the team uniforms. Other drivers like Lando, Charles, George and Daniel, couldn't help but stop and admire the adorable little girl.

"Hey there, little champ!" Lando said, waving at her. "Are you going to cheer for your dad today?" Cassie giggled and nodded. "He's the fastes!" she declared proudly, causing the drivers to melt at her sweetness. They all exchanged smiles, and for a moment, the competitive spirit of Formula 1 seemed to fade into the background, replaced by the warmth of Cassie's innocent joy.

As Lewis, Cassie and Gloria approached the Mercedes garage, Lewis introduced Cassie to his team principal. Toto, the usually angry Austrian, was particularly taken with her. "Well, if it isn't the youngest member of our team!" he said, picking her up and placing her on his lap. "How would you like to be the team principal for the day?"

Cassie's eyes widened in amazement. "Really? I can be in charge?" she squealed, bouncing slightly in excitement. Lewis, who was busy talking to Bono, turned towards his daughter and reminded her again : "Cassie, inside voice, ok?" "Sorry Daddy" she apologised cutely, warming Lewis heart at the sight of her.

Toto brought her attention back to their conversation. “Absolutely! You can help make all the important decisions,” Toto replied, grinning. He handed her a small headset, and Cassie put it on, feeling like a true boss.

“Okay, Cassie,” Toto continued, “let’s make sure the drivers are ready. We need to keep an eye on them!”

Cassie nodded seriously, trying her best to mimic the serious expressions of the adults around her. As she sat on Toto’s lap, she observed the team preparing for the race, her little fingers tapping away on the radio as if she were giving commands.

“Driver 44, are you ready?” she said into the headset, mimicking what she had heard the engineers say. The team chuckled at her adorable seriousness, and Lewis turned to give her a thumbs-up from across the garage.

As the pre-race festivities continued, Cassie found herself surrounded by the other drivers, who were all charmed by her presence. Daniel knelt down in front of her. “So, what’s your strategy for today?” he asked playfully.

“I think Daddy should go really fast and win!” she replied, her face lighting up with confidence. The drivers laughed, and Daniel gave her a mock salute. “A solid plan, Commander Cassie!”

Soon, it was time for the drivers to head to the grid. Toto carefully lifted Cassie off his lap and placed her back on the ground. “Are you ready to watch your dad race?” he asked her.

“Yay! Go, Daddy!” she cheered, waving her arms enthusiastically. Lewis leaned down to give her a kiss on the forehead before heading out to the grid. "I love you, my little love" he called back to her. "I love you more" she yelled. Turning towards his daughter, he said : "Impossible" before continuing his way. Their interaction gained laugher throughout the garage.

As the race began, Cassie was glued to the edge of her seat in the team hospitality area, her small hands gripping the railing as she watched the cars zoom past. With each lap, her excitement grew. “Go, Daddy! You can do it!” she shouted, her voice ringing out amidst the cheers of the crowd.

The race unfolded with thrilling intensity. Lewis battled fiercely against his competitors, maneuvering through tight corners and executing perfect overtakes. Cassie’s eyes were wide with awe as she watched her father, the adrenaline coursing through her tiny body with each lap.

During a particularly tense moment, where Lewis found himself in a tight spot battling for position, Cassie gasped and clutched the railing. “Come on, Daddy! You got this!” she yelled, her voice carrying over the noise of the engines.

Her encouragement seemed to resonate, as Lewis managed to pull off an incredible move, taking the lead. The crowd erupted in cheers, and Cassie jumped up and down, her laughter mingling with the roars of the fans.

“Look, Cassie! Your daddy’s in front!” Gloria said, smiling at her enthusiasm. She was having the time of her life, completely unaware of the high stakes of the race, so focused on her father’s performance.

As the race neared its conclusion, the tension was palpable. Lewis was vying for the victory, and Cassie could feel the excitement in the air. She leaned over the railing, her heart racing as the final laps approached. “You can do it, Daddy! Just go faster!” she shouted, her little fists clenched in determination.

When Lewis crossed the finish line, victorious once again, the roar of the crowd was deafening. Cassie squealed with delight, jumping up and down in sheer joy. “He did it! He won!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together.

After the race, Lewis hurried to the team area, where Cassie was waiting, her face glowing with pride. He scooped her up in his arms, spinning her around. “Did you see that, Cassie? We did it!” he exclaimed, his heart swelling with happiness.

“You were the best, Daddy! I knew you could win!” she said, her eyes shining with admiration.

As the celebrations continued, Cassie found herself the center of attention. The drivers gathered around her, congratulating Lewis and showering her with affection. “You’re an amazing little team principal, Cassie,” Charles said, ruffling her hair.

Cassie beamed, soaking in all the praise. “I told him to go fast!” she said proudly, and the drivers laughed, each one charmed by her innocence and enthusiasm.

As the sun began to set over Brazil, casting a warm glow over the paddock, Lewis took Cassie aside. “You know, today was special not just because we won, but because I got to share it with you,” he said softly.

“I had the best day, Daddy! Can we come to every race together?” she asked, her eyes wide with hope.

“Of course, sweet pea. Every race, if you want. You’ll always be my lucky charm,” Lewis replied, giving her a warm hug.

The day ended with fireworks illuminating the sky, and Cassie watched in awe, her heart full. She had stepped into a world of speed and excitement, and in doing so, had forged an unforgettable bond with her father. As they headed back to their hotel, Cassie rested her head on Lewis’s shoulder, dreaming of race tracks and fast cars, knowing that this was just the beginning of their adventures tog

[cowboyfromh3ll]

I thought of maybe a fic where the reader is Annabelle and Dutch's daughter, and Arthur ends up falling in love with her and they have to keep their relationship a secret from Dutch

The Passion Of Lovers

(Arthur Morgan x Dutch’s Daughter!Reader)

Warnings: uhh slightly suggestive

Your father often told you, “The passion of lovers is for death.”. It was a tired statement. One you had heard a thousand times, and one that marked the beginning of another autocratically superfluous lecture as to why you were supposed to stay away from men, and not date anyone he did not approve of (Not that he ever approved of anyone to begin with). As the daughter of Dutch Van Der Linde, you were raised to have nothing but the highest of expectations. You were spoiled rotten, a gesture that he hoped would show not only his love for you, but also served as a distraction for the lifestyle that you lived. You supposed living in a tent in the woods wasn’t the most illustrious thing in the world. There were certainly more girls your age out there privileged enough to live a life far more cushioned than your own, but you considered yourself fortunate enough.

And of course, the money you did get was nice. Not only that, your father made sure that you, and every member of the gang, knew that you were a top priority, and your needs came first. They were there to protect you at all costs. It was as close as one could get to being treated like royalty in a gang of outlaws on the run.

Especially after your mother had passed. Oh, how your father increased in overbearingness. You were never allowed to be out on your own. He would insist on accompanying you on every single errand you went off to do. And if he wasn’t available to accompany you, he would send you off with his most trusted men.

One of them being Arthur Morgan.

As grown as you were, and as much as you believed you could take care of yourself, you did quite like his company. Having a burling and intimidating man standing by your side certainly slowed the frenetic pace at which idiot men would hit on you during your daily errands. Some who were still bold enough got told off as he moved you behind him, the more unfortunately confident ones being decked square in the face. It was always quite amusing seeing Dutch fuss over his beloved daughter once she got back from town, a clearly disheveled and bruised Arthur standing next to her, indicating something had happened.

You’d briefly explain how Arthur had protected you from an extremely assertive man, and you’d be pampered and coddled even more by Dutch. Arthur got his praise of course, eventually becoming your primary caretaker when Dutch wasn’t around. At some point, he had more so begun assuming the job, jumping up whenever you said you were heading into town rather than waiting for Dutch’s appointment. You’d approach Arthur privately, and only after Arthur had agreed to accompany you, you would inform your father of your departure.

“The passion of lovers is for death.” you’d repeat in your head. But you did not care. While you were more or less required to give Dutch a full report of what you had done while you were out, down to what roads you went down and what items you glanced at, you did omit some details.

You certainly weren’t about to recount to your father the details of you and Arthur’s haste, open mouth kisses. Your hushed exchanges of “I love you”. The way you held onto Arthur’s arm while in town, leaning on his bulking figure. You certainly would not tell him that, never.

Perhaps Dutch had never foreseen his plan backfiring in such a way. His intentions had been to keep men away from you, but your very own personal bodyguard who was supposed to scare those same men away, ended up pining after you. Arthur had been the one who fell first. Prior to your arrangements, he had found you quite beautiful. But like any man who got in the proximity of Dutch’s daughter, he was strictly prohibited from getting too friendly with you. Though any time allotted for the two of you to be alone proved to be more than enough to get to know you. Being alone with you actually helped Arthur realize just how little he knew you before, despite the fact you were in the gang for as long as he was. To be honest, besides your beauty, he found your overindulgence in money to be quite baffling, especially considering the position the rest of the gang was in. His initial reaction was to find you snobbish, but while it was true you were spoiled rotten, you had your rebellious side, which he came to love.

Your biggest gesture of rebellion had been dating Arthur. Dutch had hoped his money and gifts could keep your young female mind away from boys for long enough, but this ended up backfiring as well. You were left with no unsatisfied desires except one, and that was relationships. And your fulfillment in every other aspect only seemed to highlight the severity of your only predicament. Just weeks after you and Arthur had begun your hidden love affair, you had begun to realize just how much of you was left untapped emotionally. He introduced you to a world of experiences you would’ve otherwise never been able to experience with Dutch’s knowledge of your personal life.

While the arrangement itself was risky, the two of you never did indulge in risky behavior around camp. As painstaking as it was watching Arthur sleep alone on his cot, no one there to soothe and aide his loneliness, it was all worth it in the end. This meant no overt friendliness besides the allowed amount by your father. No secret kisses, no lascivious brushing of the limb, no leering gazes that would catch the attention of anyone. Nothing at all. You did not even let the girls in one your secret.

Hushed gossip sessions would become, in a way, amusing for you. Their compassionate admissions of sympathy for you in being disallowed to date were met with “That’s just how it is”. Before dating Arthur you might’ve agreed with them, wallowing in your own self pity at how your feminine urges were left unfulfilled. You might’ve snickered along with them over a boy you found cute. But now, whenever they did bring up a possible bachelor to you, you dismissed them with a wave of your hand, clicking your tongue in disapproval before saying “He’s not my type.”. There was some truth in it, you doubted the son of the general store owner could keep you satisfied the same way Arthur did. Dating a regular man would be more akin to torture than it would be pleasureable.

The girls often insisted your father had gotten to you; how his discourse over relationships and dating and the passion of lovers was so deeply ingrained in your brain, that even you had begun to believe it and take it to heart. You could argue that the only thing your father had ingrained in you were impossibly high standards, that and the ability to sneak around and lie with competence so incredibly exceptional it seemed to be a genetic inheritance that ran through your blood.

Arthur’s companionship seemed to be the last puzzle piece to the bigger picture. You often thought of eloping altogether, but you knew you could not escape your father forever. His embraces and osculations were enough to sate your desires until the next time you were alone with him. Going on last minute dates and copulating in the middle of the woods made the prolonged and agonizing wait seem not so bad.

Perhaps the passion of lovers had been the death for some. Namely your mother. But Arthur was more than capable of protecting you from such a fate. The passion of lovers was for life.

.

.

.

.

.

.

The Passion Of Lovers - Bauhaus 🦇

[pucksandpower]

Hey, I just read the Grid Kids series and I’m in love. I’ve got kids of my own and I remember when they first started trying to talk how everyone was practically fighting over who their first work would be and was wondering if you could do a First Word one where they are all doing the same of Seb and Readers kid. Like maybe even little nicknames of theory full name like for Charles it’s Char or for Lando it’s Lan? I thought it might be cute. But everyone gets a surprise when none of them are the kids first word and it’s someone else instead. Love your writing xx

Grid Kids: Speak Now

Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers

Summary: no one could have predicted what your daughter’s first word would be

Series Masterlist

“No, no, no! That’s not how you say it!” You lightly tickle your daughter’s belly until she’s giggling uncontrollably. “Mama! Say Mama!”

Your daughter, a chubby little cherub with her father’s hair and your eyes, squeals with delight, her tiny hands reaching out to grab yours.

She’s been babbling for months now but has yet to say her first real word.

“Come on, bärchen,” Sebastian coos, scooping her up into his arms. “Say Papa for Papa.”

Your daughter claps her hands and gurgles happily, her eyes sparkling. She is determined to keep you both guessing, it seems.

Meanwhile, your grid kids are gathered around, watching the exchange with amusement. They’ve all been trying to coax your daughter into saying their names too but she has stubbornly resisted their charms.

“Maybe she’ll say my name first,” Charles jokes, his usual mischievous grin plastered on his face.

“Not a chance,” Max retorts, his Dutch accent thick with amusement. “She loves me the most.”

“Oh, please,” Lando scoffs, rolling his eyes. “She clearly thinks I’m the coolest brother.”

“Ha,” George laughs, “in your dreams.”

“Exactly! Because we all know that’s me,” Mick chimes in.

Lance arches an eyebrow. “How does it feel knowing you’re all wrong?”

The boys continue to bicker playfully, each one convinced that they are your daughter’s favorite.

The baby in question, meanwhile, seems oblivious to the commotion, her attention focused solely on the shiny red Ferrari parked behind you.

“Box, box!” She exclaims, clapping her hands excitedly.

Charles, standing closest to the car, freezes. His eyes widen in horror and his face drains of color. Before anyone can react, he collapses to the ground like a sack of potatoes, unconscious.

The boys gasp in shock, their voices echoing through the garage. You rush to Charles’ side, checking for a pulse. He’s alive but he’s definitely not responding.

Sebastian scoops up your daughter, her wide eyes fixed on the stricken Ferrari driver. “It’s okay, honey,” he soothes, gently stroking her hair. “Charles is just a little tired.”

He carries your daughter away, leaving you to deal with the commotion. You shake your head in disbelief.

“Ferrari trauma, I guess,” you mutter to yourself, a rueful smile playing on your lips.

As you help the rest of the grid kids revive Charles, you can’t help but feel a surge of love for your chaotic family.

They may be crazy but you wouldn’t trade them for the world.

[nurse-floyd]

Unexpected Arrival - Part 2

Pairing: Max Verstappen x reader

Warnings: none. Pure cheese!

Part one here

After unexpectedly giving birth in Max’s driver room, you get used to life with a new baby!

Tagging: everyone who wanted a part 2 - @vivwritesfics @shelbyteller @madd1115 @dreamerrosie @mbioooo0000

Lando came further into the room and leant at your side. “How the hell did you keep this quiet?” He gently ran his finger over the little girls cheek.

You shook your head, still not understanding the situation fully yourself, still in shock.

Max looked between you and Lando, torn between what to do. He didn’t want to leave you and his newborn daughter, but he also knew he had duties to fulfill. Truth be told, he didn’t give a shit about the trophy and podium ceremony, nothing else really mattered in that moment other than his family.

His team manager appeared at the door then, alerted by the commotion and whispers. He crouched in front of the pair of you, staring at the baby clutched to your chest, “I heard the news but I didn’t believe it! Max, we can get the podium done now and then you’re free. Debrief and media duties can wait.”

He looked at you and then his daughter, ”I have to go, but I’ll be right back,” he promised as he leaned in and placed a kiss to your temple and a gentle kiss to the crown of your baby’s head. “I won’t be long.”

You nodded, understanding he still had stuff to do and no one could have expected this. You didn’t even know how you were going to announce it to the world, however you knew it probably wouldn’t be a secret for much longer with Lando knowing. If he had it his way, he’d probably announce it like the birth from the Lion King.

Lando helped Max to his feet, giving him a clap on the back before he pulled him in for a hug, “congratulations, mate.” With a hand on each other's backs, they walked out of the room and you were left alone with the medics.

One of the medics replaced the space Max had just left, “we need to get you to the hospitals now.”

”No,” you said firmly, “I’m not going without Max.”

“There’s no sign of bleeding and both mom and baby are stable, so we could wait?” the other medic suggested.

You turned your attention to the TV that was still playing in the background as you heard the podium ceremony begin and the tannoy announce the winners. You didn’t care who was in the room with you, all that mattered in that moment was your daughter. Cuddling her closer to your chest you explained what was happening on screen, not that she knew or understood anything that was going on. ”That’s uncle Carlos, he’s in third place,” you explained, “and that silly man there is uncle Lando, you’ve already met him. Don’t listen to a word he says.”

Then Max appeared on screen, his smile wide as he climbed on top of the podium. “And that’s your daddy, he’s champion of the world. He loves you so much already, more than you’ll ever know.”

The Dutch National anthem played and you couldn’t describe the look on Max’s face, it was a moment you wanted to capture forever in your mind. Lando absolutely covered him in champagne, celebrating more than his win, although the rest of the world was yet to find out about your little miracle.

Max practically ran back to your side, he rushed around cleaning himself the best he could and changing into a clean pair of jeans and sweatshirt while the medics got you and your daughter secured on a stretcher.

Suddenly it dawned on you that the moment you stepped out of those doors, the cameras would be on you, Max and the baby. Call it motherly instinct but you wanted to protect your baby at all costs, this isn’t the introduction you wanted for her to the world.

You didn’t have to worry though. That girl had an army behind her and she didn’t even know it. Lando stood at the door, a grin spread across his face. Sure, he’d told the entire grid, but as you were wheeled out of the drivers room, an army of Ferrari red, papaya and blue stood shielding you from any prying eyes. Sure, the news was out but you and Max had just that little while longer of it just being the three of you until you were ready.

Call it pregnancy hormones, but you couldn’t help it as a tear escaped your eyes. The trip to the hospital was quick and before you knew it you were there. With you and the baby checked over and safe, the three of you were left alone in the room.

Max was on the bed with you, his arm wrapped protectively around the pair of you. His eyes were filled with so much love as he stared at your daughter.

“She’s perfect,” you said as she gently fussed in your arms.

She stilled quickly enough as Max ran a finger up and down her cheek, “shh, you’re okay baby.”

“We need to think of a name. We can’t keep calling her baby!”

Now that was a whole other issue. Most people had at least 8 months to think of a name, and now you had to name this little stranger.

“What about Amelia?” you suggested.

The pair of you looked down at her but she didn’t look like an Amelia.

“How about, Lily?” Max supplied this time.

She gave a little gurgle at that.

“Well, I think she likes that!”

“Lily Sophia Verstappen,” you added the middle name.

“It’s perfect,” Max replied, his voice full of emotion as he pulled you both closer.

The next day you were allowed home, well to your hotel room until you could take Max’s jet back, both with a clean bill of health. Your hotel room was filled with gift baskets from all the teams on the grid. There was a red baby grow and a teddy wearing a Ferrari shirt from Charles and Carlos, a Red Bull onesie from uncle Checo. There was a papaya coloured baby grow that you knew you’d have to put the baby in to send pictures to Lando. You basically had a baby grow or bib from every team on the grid, which you knew Max would begrudgingly put her in (he loved it really). You may be biased but the stuff from your Red Bull family was the best, a kangaroo plush from Danny, Yuki got you the most beautiful decals for her room that wasn’t even set up and of course the mini race suit onesie from Checo.

After a few days of it just being the three of you and you’d settled into a routine with Lily, you were ready to announce Lily Sophia Verstappen to the world.

[jo-com]

˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡° ➛ Recital

Charles Leclerc x Fem!Ballet reader x Max Verstappen

Summary: They show the whole world how proud they are for you by attending your recital, along with them was your cutesy little angel.

Genre: throuple and Wholesome moment with them

Note: This is not proofread and they contain grammatical errors also google translated french and dutch but i hope you enjoy

───── ─ ୧⋆｡🩰✧ ─ ───────

“Maman?” Your two year old daughter babbled, her hands moving up and down and fingers balled up to a fist—creating a grabby hand like gesture.

Motioning for Charles to carry her to which he gladly obliges.

“Yes, mon bébé, we are going to see maman” Charles said in a toddler like voice and then proceeds to twirl her in the air earning a cutesy giggle from their daughter.

“Stop, papa” she laughed, gripping tightly onto charles’ shirt to avoid slipping off his embrace. “Okay, okay, i’ll stop in one condition.”

Charlotte cocked her head to the side curiously; waiting for her dad to continue.

“With a kiss” Charles added, grinning mischievously as he stared at their daughter’s expression. Her once curious gaze turned into happy ones after hearing his “condition.”

“No papa, kisses are only for maman” she shook her head a ‘no’ and rested both her hands on her tiny hips.

She was trying to look intimidating but with her doey face she just looked like a bunny trying to act tough.

With that Charles erupted into a fit of laughter at their daughter’s movements. Making charlotte lean her head to the side and looked at her dad confusingly— thinking what made him laugh like that.

“What are you guys doing? Have you even finished getting ready?”

Charles freezes, hearing a familiar voice that came from the corner of the room to where the door was— and let me tell you; that voice does not sound happy. At all.

“Ah mon amour, yes we’ve finished” he chucked dryly.

“But papa, we haven’t put in my bows” she whispered, well she was trying to at least.

“I heard that” Max said, his brows knitted to a frown and hands rested in his hip. Wow like father like daughter.

Charles widened his eyes and scratched the back of his neck, mumbling a low ‘oh hehe’.

Max rolled his eyes, not in a mean way though more like a ‘i am going to kick your ass later’ kind of way. “We’re going to be late” he muttered and carefully took charlotte out of charles’ arms.

“Come on Mijn liefste (my sweet), let’s get you ready”

“Do you need any help, Mon cœur?.” Charles asked, wanting to ease his lover’s anger. He smiled from ear to ear showing of his dimples and of course max can’t resist that look.

He shook his head and playfully rolled his eyes this time, “sure darling”— Charles’ heart then swelled with love at the nickname.

Without a moment to spear the two of them started to fix Charlotte’s bow.

…

Finally, after what felt like forever they had arrive at the theater to where your recital was happening.

They walked along the crowded floor; looking for their reserved seat, and once they spotted their names they soon sat down and waited patiently for the show to start.

…

“Curtains up in five people,” the assistant director yelled, loud enough for only the people in backstage can hear.

You sighed nervously— shaking off the nerves with a few practice Battement tendu. You do that every performance you do, just to let out some of the pre show jitters. It somehow calms your nerves down.

After five minutes was up, the spoke person started to announce the performance and tiny little information about the recital; along with it was the curtains being pulled up to reveal all the ballet dancers including yourself.

The First song was then played and all of you started dance gracefully to the beat of the sound— who ever watched it, will be amazed on how Synchronized you guys were. As if you all were one person that’s playing tricks on their mind making them think that you’re plenty.

Amidst the crowd, there charlotte was. Her eyes fixated on your dancing figure; she was at awe on how beautiful and elegant you look just by dancing alone.

She mindlessly tugged Max’s tux without breaking her eyes off yours.

“Maman is so pretty papa” she mumbled.

Her heart full of adoration for her mom. She wishes she could be there at stage with you and hug you like crazy.

Max smiled, looking at their daughter as she gazed at you; eyes filled with proudness and love. He then tapped Charles on the shoulder and whispered what charlotte said to him.

Now the three of them were smiling brightly.

…

After the show ended, the three of them made their way backstage to your dressing room.

Charles was holding charlotte in his arm but she was quick to go down as soon, as you guys stepped in-front of your door.

She knocked frantically, waiting for you to open the door, when you did she ran as fast as she can and hugged you tightly down your waist.

“Maman, you looked so amazing back there” she yelled, her hug only getting tighter with excitement.

“Merci mon bébé” you smiled, stroking the roof of her head soothingly.

Both Charles and Max went towards you two and kissed the both sides of your cheeks.

“If you were there, you could see how adorable she looked” charles chuckled, making charlotte pout.

“You’re not supposed to say that papa” she grumbled and broke from your embrace and softly hit Charles’ leg.

Max and you giggled at the two; seeing them ‘fight’ was the cutest thing ever. At that moment you were so happy to have them, if you were to choose to replay one memory it would be this— the laughter from both your husbands and the pouty face of your daughter. Everything was just so perfect.

…

Miss.y/n just posted!

Liked by Charles_Leclerc, Balletreview, Maxverstappen and 1,378,025 others

Miss.yn Merci to my number 1 supporters!🩰

View all comments

…

Sorry I couldn’t write for a while because of my writes block😭😭 but i js finished this and there are more in my draft so i hope you enjoyed!!

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Hiiii I absolutely loved you Max fics I don’t know if you ever would want to do that but if your interested please do a mafia storyline with Max or Mick! ❤️

Little Lion Man || MV1 & CH16

Pairings: dark!Charles Leclerc x fem!reader, Max Verstappen x fem!reader Summary: you find yourself caught in a war between the mafia families that ruled Monaco. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, guns, murder, pregnancy, slight non con/reluctant vibes, forced marriage WC: 3.5k

For a nation so small it was hard to believe that Monaco could be home to not one but three mafia families. There was the Leclerc famile, Verstsppen familie and the Sainz familia. The Leclerc’s had always called Monaco home but the Dutch and Spanish families had made their arrival known in the 90’s, almost burning the city in the war that broke out.

Just over 30 years later, it looked like history was going to repeat itself as the prodigal sons took over the family businesses.

“You are my daughter, if I say you will marry Charles then you will marry him. End of argument.” You would hardly call it an argument when you weren’t even given an opportunity to say your piece but your father left no room for a rebuttal as he slammed the door closed behind him. There was a reason the Sainz’s called him the Peacemaker.

You were a bargaining chip, a pawn in your father’s arsenal to end the war between the Leclerc’s and the Sainz’s before it could spill out into the street and affect everyone’s bottom line. The last thing anyone wanted was to lose their men, their money and their product.

Two weeks later you were shoved into a wedding dress that could have been a film prop for any 80’s rom-com, puffy sleeves and all. It was hideous.

“You are quite beautiful,” Charles said as you reached the dais where the priest waited. “I suppose that will make this easier.”

By ‘this’ you assumed he meant the moment the reception was over and you found yourself stepping into his bedroom, your bedroom too now. Charles had been quiet for most of the evening, indulging in a handful of whiskeys over ice as he mulled over what his life had become, but he found his voice as he tugged his tie off. “On the bed.”

Your fingers tightened around your waist as you hugged yourself, trying to fight back the tears you thought you had finished shedding when you resigned yourself to your fate. “You don’t have to do this, we can come to an arrangement.”

Charles scoffed and continued to unbutton his dress shirt. “This is the arrangement.”

You swallowed as he shucked the shirt over a leather armrest and you saw the dark tattoos that curled over his biceps and down his forearms. A snake moved with his muscles and entwined around a gothic cross. Beneath it, thorny roses with blood drops splattered over the petals decorated the otherwise sun kissed skin.

“I don’t know what my father told you but I-”

“Your father said you would be an obedient wife,” he interrupted as he pointed a ringed finger to the bed. “I’m only as terrible as you make me.”

You took a step back as he stepped closer, his hand lifting to your face. It was reflex to flinch from his touch, knowing the violence his hands were capable of dealing to those who displeased him. You couldn’t help shivering as his cold wedding band touched your cheek and his other arm snaked around your waist, dragging the zip of your dress down your spine.

“What does that even mean?” you whispered. You took a breath and grew the courage to tip your head back and met his uniquely green eyes - the colour brighter than the soul behind them.

He pushed the puffed sleeves from your shoulders until the dress fell to the floor and inhaled at the sight of your body being bared to him. Biting his lip, he stepped back and ran a hand over his shadow of a beard. “Behave yourself, and I will too. Push me, and I’ll push you back harder.”

You felt the colour drain from your face at the threat and he chuckled as he closed the distance between you, forcing your lips apart with a demanding kiss. His palms ran down your spine and over the curve of your ass, pulling you flush against the hard expanse of his body.

“One other thing,” he murmured against your lips. “Disappoint me or my family and, well…it will be the last thing you do, chérie.”

You collapsed into Max’s arms the moment he opened the door, your fingers digging into the straps of muscle along his back as you clung to him like a lifeline. The penthouse apartment was quiet except for the tv playing in the master bedroom and your sobs filled the foyer before he could even close the door.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Max said, despite holding you just as tight. “He probably has Arthur or Lorenzo following you.”

You started to pull back but his arms caged you in his embrace so you settled for talking into his chest. “I know how to lose a tail. I was careful.”

He sighed and rested his cheek on your head, inhaling the floral scent of your shampoo he had missed. “I know, liefje. How long is he gone for?”

You screwed your eyes closed and wished he had never brought Charles up, but you knew Max wanted to know how long he could have with you. “He’s in Nice for a meeting. A few hours at least.”

The hatred for your husband had led you into the arms of Max, his rival and head of the Verstappen familie. The three families would meet each quarter for negotiations and settle disputes, or at least that was what it was meant for, but they just used it as a way to flaunt their wealth and success over each other.

It was after the wedding when you went to your first one that Max had caught your lifeless eyes as you sat beside Charles, decked out in a custom designer dress with diamonds strung around your neck, slowly choking you. He had been struck down by the vision before him and had never wanted something for himself so much in his life. He had been willing to go to war for you and he didn’t even know your name. He had learned it soon enough.

“Do you know who he’s meeting?” Max asked. Even when he wasn’t meaning to he was phishing for information, a reflex he couldn’t seem to stop with a mind as sharp as his.

“Please, mijn leeuw, not tonight,” you whined as you buried your face in his neck. (My lion)

“I’m sorry,” he said with a kiss to your forehead before he tipped your chin back to meet his ice-blue eyes. “What do you need from me, liefje?”

“I need to forget. Please, help me forget.”

Max closed his eyes as rage hardened his features and you knew he was rueing the day he let Charles live. The solution to your problem couldn’t be solved with a bullet and although Max knew that, it was still a bitter pill to swallow. He wanted nothing more than to bathe in Charles’ blood for what he had done to you, but the retaliation would be catastrophic. He had too many people relying on him, friends and family alike.

All Max could give you was a few short hours of his time to show you how he would treat you if the circumstances had been kinder. For a few short hours of stolen time he could erase the touch of Charles from your mind.

Max took your hand, his fingers easing your wedding ring off before placing it on the hall table with your handbag. You relished the freedom that came without the constricting band and flexed your fingers like it had been physically painful to wear the gold jewellery. In a way, it had.

Linking his fingers with yours, Max led the way through the apartment and into the bedroom you found comfort in. This should have been the place you called home, the solace you returned to at the day’s end. It was the one place you felt safe, even though just being here put your life in danger. If Charles ever found out you knew you would be dead, your body left somewhere it would never be found.

“Max…do you believe in God?” you asked in the quiet afterwards. Your arm was curled around his waist, fingers tracing the lion tattoo that covered his rib cage. You could feel the time ticking away with each heartbeat in his chest that you rested your head upon.

“No,” he said honestly, his accent thickening with his amusement. “Do you?”

You looked at the slight change in skin tone where your wedding band usually sat and slipped out of his embrace to find your clothes. “I have to,” you whispered as your throat began to tighten at the thought of returning to the cold mansion Charles owned. “There’s got to be something more than this hell. Maybe one day he will answer my prayers.”

Max could remember the feeling of taking over the family business, how he thought he was invincible - godlike even. Now he felt powerless to the situation. He didn’t like the feeling. He wanted to be the one to answer your prayer.

“One day…” he promised himself aloud, missing the way your spine stiffened at the words. There was no guarantee you would survive long enough for him to keep it.

You stared dumbly at the two pink lines and felt the walls of the bathroom constricting around you. You couldn’t imagine bringing a child into the world you were imprisoned in, it was unfair and deadly. What if the babe had dirty blond hair and ice blue eyes? A new fear sent a shudder down your body and you looked at your stomach, nothing to show - yet.

The door crashed off its hinges as Charles busted it in and you screamed at the surprise, cradling your abdomen on reflex.

“I called you ten fucking times!” Charles growled. His eyes narrowed as they scanned the room before settling on the pregnancy tests lined up. For the first time since you had wed him, Charles looked lost for words, and after a moment his hard stare softened. “We are having a baby?”

You couldn’t remember when he ever addressed anything as ‘we’, it was always you and him - separate, not together. You didn’t know how to react to the instant change in him but you nodded stiffly as he waited for an answer.

A smile grew on his face as he stepped forward and pulled your hands away from your stomach to place his own beneath your camisole. “My son, my heir,” he chuckled, the warmth of his palms almost blistering your skin.

“It might be a girl.” You flinch at the look he gave you and muttered an apology. Just because he was suddenly being gentle didn’t mean he would stay that way, especially if he ever found out the child wasn’t his. Nausea rolled through you and you pushed away to hurdle yourself at the toilet before you emptied your stomach.

It wasn’t morning sickness.

It was a sickness of the heart.

You knew if Max were to believe the child was his then he would have no choice but to go to war, it was a matter of pride and family. On the other hand, Charles would never let the child live if it wasn’t his and despite just learning of its existence, you were willing to do anything to protect it. You needed to tread carefully and that meant no more escaping your guards to see Max. It meant playing the good wife, at least for the next eight months.

You could feel his intense stare from across the table, willing you to meet his eyes. Too many times you felt them drifting up from your husband’s hand clasped on your lap only to snap them back down before you could give in. It would do no good to look at Max. You hadn’t seen him since the night before you took the pregnancy test and you had dreaded going to the quarterly meeting.

There was no hiding the bump in the tight dress Charles had chosen for you. There was no way that Max had missed it when you walked in on your husband’s arm. He had seen it and he had questions.

“I’m going to the ladies room,” you excused yourself after the meal, while the men talked business.

“Arthur will go with you,” Charles said with a nod to his younger brother sitting at his other side. “I don’t trust any of these assholes.”

His hand lingered on the small of your back as you stepped out and you glanced across to see Max’s eyes fixated on that touch. Though you did not welcome the hands of your husband, you no longer feared them the way you used to. Charles was far gentler now that you were, potentially, carrying his heir. It could also be Max’s.

A hand clasped over your mouth and silenced the scream that rose in your throat. “It’s me,” Max whispered, soothing your racing heart.

You looked around the powder room wondering how he had made it past Arthur and saw a narrow cleaner’s entrance left open a crack. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“You never came back, never answered my messages.” The hurt in Max’s voice made your chest ache and your hands dropped to the growing swell of your abdomen. He followed that movement, his chest filling with the deep breath he took and the pearl buttons on his shirt started to strain until he exhaled. “I didn’t believe the rumours.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” he asked, the biting tone wanting detailed explanations like you were one of his men answering for your actions.

Your lips parted, ready to tell him exactly what you were sorry for, before they slammed shut. “I should go.”

He caught your arm as you moved past and he pulled you flush against his body to bury his face in your neck. “Tell me, please. I’ll make it happen, I’ll answer your prayers, I’ll go to war for you - for both of you. Just tell me, is it mine?”

The confession threatened to slip past your lips, the truth that you didn’t know, that he very likely could be. The confession threatened to eat you alive like it had done every time you saw one of Max’s men around Monaco. They always managed to get a message to you, but you never had a response to send.

“No,” you muttered as you pushed him away.

He rocked back on his heels but remained steady as he watched you retreat to the exit. “No, it isn’t mine or no, you won’t tell me?”

Your back hit the door and you blindly reached for the handle, sparing one last look at his shimmering eyes so you could remember them a little longer. “Whatever helps you to sleep at night.”

“Dammit, liefje, just tell me. I need to know.”

You broke away at the endearment that weakened your resolve and your shoulders curled in on themselves. “I can’t tell you, Max, because I don’t know. I. Don’t. Know.” Your voice cracked and the weight of those words fell tenfold on your shoulders as your hand slipped from the doorknob. “I don’t know who the father is, Max. I-I’m sorry.”

His strong arms grappled you into a tight embrace as you broke down in them, your knees giving out as you felt his lips on your forehead, smelt his cologne on his neck. “It’s okay, liefje, I'm going to fix this.”

You pulled back with eyes and blinked away the tears as you placed your hand on your belly. “How? What if it’s not yours?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything,” he promised as he tipped your chin back. “Mine or not, this baby is yours and that’s enough.”

A knock sounded at the door and you panicked as Arthur asked if everything was alright. Your reply was muffled as Max stole a kiss and quietly repeated his promise before disappearing back into the cleaner’s room. Wiping your eyes, you unlocked the door and met your brother-in-law’s narrowed eyes before they searched the room behind you. “You’ve been crying.”

“Pregnancy,” you said with a wave of your hand. “It’s called hormones, Tur. Happens all the time, just ask your brother.”

Max’s chair was still empty when you reached the table but he entered from the main door a few minutes later. The mask he often wore in front of those outside the familie was firmly in place as he unbuttoned his suit with one hand and dropped back into his seat, apologising for taking an important call.

“Your men can't handle one evening on their own?” Charles baited over the rim of his wine glass with an antagonising smile.

Max returned the grin with his own as he slipped his phone into his suit jacket. “You have no idea what my men are capable of.”

You could feel the ripples of those words across the table, the feel of a threat in the air. It not only set Charles on edge but Carlos too - the two sharing a look of concern before facing the Dutchman once more.

Max took a mouthful of his gin and tonic and bit into the lime wedge without reacting to the strong citrus taste. Taking his time, he picked up his napkin and cleaned the drops of juice from his fingers before laying it over his lap as everyone watched closely.

It looked as if he were nervously fiddling with his rings under the napkin and Carlos snickered, relaxing back into his chair until your lion spoke again. “But you will…”

The air stilled for a moment as the napkin drifted to the floor and warmth splattered your cheek. You couldn’t think fast enough to process what had happened or why the wetness on your cheek was red. It could have been minutes but it felt like hours before your brain connected the dots and you saw your husband's body slumped in his chair before you, his green eyes open but unseeing.

Across the table, Max had risen to his feet, the fidgeting revealing a silencer he had been screwing onto his gun. He was cold and precise as he took out Carlos next, his accuracy unmatched. Around the seats he went, faster than they could react as the doors were busted open and his second in command arrived. Danny was ready to die protecting Max’s back while you dropped to the floor and prayed for protection of your own.

“We have to get out of here,” Arthur growled as he caught your ankle and dragged you back where he was kneeling, his white chinos turning red as they absorbed his brother’s blood. “Stay low, protect my nephew.”

“Do you have a gun?” you asked with a shaking voice.

“Of course not,” he spat angrily. No one was meant to have weapons at these meetings and you were assuming Max had retrieved his from the reception area before returning.

“Then you’re fucked.” You kicked your Louboutin into his face and scrambled away as he howled in pain, reaching the edge of the table close to Max.

“Liefje, are you alright?”

“Arthur, under there,” you rushed as you pointed behind you, closing your eyes as he lifted the cloth and the muffled gunshot rang out.

“Not anymore.”

“Time to go,” Danny suggested, reloading his magazine and kicking a few bodies to check they were truly dead.

“Is that it?” You asked, hope filling your voice despite the devastation in the room surrounding you.

Daniel threw his head back and laughed but Max just shook his head and said, “This is just the beginning. We just declared war.”

“But they’re dead.”

“Someone will take over, and when they do - we will need to be ready.” Max reached out and wiped the blood from your cheek. “You’re free of him now, you both are.”

Your breath rattled out of you as you felt the weight lift from your shoulders and as the sirens grew in the distance you managed to smile, the first genuine smile in months. Your prayers had finally been answered. “Thank you, mijn leeuw.”

Five Months Later

Ice blue eyes met yours before a piercing cry erupted and Max’s laugh was one of pure joy. “Mijn zoon,” he cooed softly as he rested his cheek on your head and you watched the midwife gently bring your son to your waiting arms.

Tears blurred your vision at the warm comforting weight of his tiny body lying chest to chest with you. You had never felt anything more precious, never held anything more delicate. He was perfect.

“My little lion man,” you whispered, brushing a kiss over the tufts of dark hair he already had. “We love you so much.”

As if he knew what the words meant, his eyelashes fluttered and he peeked them open to bear twin green irises. He would be an heir. He could unite the families. Or, he could tear it all apart.

Only time would tell.