#in light of the recent posts about max

[0scar-piastri]

I get how you can have a favourite driver and I get that you want them to succeed and win races, I totally get that. But I don’t understand how you can hate a driver?? Like these are actual human beings that most of you have never met and probably never will meet, how can you hate them?? What have they done to you personally? They don’t all have to be your favourites, but for fucks sake, be a decent human being and respect their existence.

[coff33andb00ks]

Rule Breaker - Pt 1

max verstappen x single mom!reader

{next}

face claim: none, random pinterest find warnings: cursing, max is broody, jos is an asshole, fluff, barely proofread, idk red bull team aside from Max, Checo, and Horner... (y/n's bestie is named after my irl bestie bc she told me to write this, and y/n's son is not named after Magnussen i swear) Summary: Max has it all...right? Besides, he's too busy collecting trophies and completing side quests for anything else. Until... You moved across a whole ass ocean to start over, uprooting you and your son's lives to become social media admin for cars that drive in circles. word count: 4293 auth.note: hiii new to writing for f1 so I'm posting this in the middle of the night and hiding in bed - feedback greatly appreciated. also this is forbidden love/he falls first/friends to enemies to lovers

"Hey Max, come meet the new social media admin."

On his way out, he barely heard the words. But they registered and he immediately turned, knowing how important it was to have a good rapport with the social media personnel. He only had to meet them, then he could leave and go to the team apartment and… He didn't know. Pass time in his sim until he couldn't hold his eyes open. Maybe he'd go for a run until he was close to exhaustion. Or see if Lando was in the country and they could go out together. It was only when he was about to pass out that he was able to sleep and not be plagued with dreams.

His eyes swept the small office, swiveling to focus on the new face. She smiled, giving him a little wave as she set down her slice of pizza.

"Max, this is y/n. Y/n, this is Max."

"Hello," he said, watching as she wiped her mouth with a napkin.

"Hi, sorry." She took a sip of her drink and wiped her mouth again. "Sorry – It's so great to meet you."

She was American. Walking over, he extended his hand. "Where are you from?"

Shaking his hand, she smiled up at him. "Well most recently I was with—"

"No, no, where in America," he corrected.

"Oh! North Carolina. I try to keep the country accent to a minimum but sometimes I slip up." She motioned to the pizza box on the desk. "You want a slice?"

No, he had to leave. His work was done, he didn't need to hang around and kill his precious down time. Besides, his diet was strict for the next few days, what with the race coming up. He had to focus on… Within fifteen seconds he was sitting across from her, holding a slice in one hand. One slice wouldn't hurt, he decided as he took a bite. "How long have you been in England?"

"About three weeks?" She glanced at her watch and nodded. "Three weeks tomorrow. I was staying at an Airbnb until a week ago when I moved into my apartment."

He nodded. "Are you going to be based here or go to the races?"

"Races. Gonna be living the glamorous life of travel and hotels and surviving on caffeine and sugar," she said with a roll of her eyes.

"It's not so bad."

"I'm sure I'll get used to it. You've been doing it for, what, half your life now?"

Shrugging, he took a sip of his water. "More than that, really. Are you saying you don't travel?"

"Not like this. I lucked out with my last job because I was able to do it mostly from home. I think I went up to New York or out to Cali maybe six times total? But I know I can do it," she added when his eyebrows lifted. "It'll just take a little getting used to, especially with a little one in tow a lot of the time."

That surprised him. His eyes immediately moved to her hands, which were completely bare of rings. "A little one?"

Y/n nodded, her eyes lighting. "He's three."

"What's his name?" Max asked. It was none of his business about the boy's father, anyway, so he wasn't going to ask about him. And he didn't even care.

"Kevin." Her smile was both shy and sparkling.

His chest tightened. Kevin, he knew, was one of the most loved children in the world. "What's he like?" The words came out and only after saying them he realized he wanted to know.

"He's… He's Kevin." She laughed. "He asks a million questions and will talk to anyone about anything. He's high energy but has laser focus when it's something that interests him – Like the other day I took him to the park. I expected him to be running around and trying out all the swings and stuff, but he spent an hour crawling in the grass following a caterpillar."

"Laser focus can be good at times," Max told her, earning a warm smile.

"I know. He comes by it honest because I do the same thing when I'm working."

"Will you be bringing him to the races?" Finished with his pizza, he shook his head when she nudged the box towards him and sat back to finish his water.

"Yeah. Not all of them, but to the next few. I already talked to Mr. Horner and Wanda about it," she said quickly, as though expecting him to be upset about her bringing her child to work. "He won't be in the way. My best friend – Ellie, she's his godmother – is traveling with me to Imola and Monaco to watch him for me. But her new job starts the first of June so I have to make arrangements before then."

"Does he like racing?"

"He's three," she deadpanned. "He loves anything with cars or trucks."

"You'll have to bring him to the track—"

"He also loves fart jokes and bugs."

Max blinked at her, snorting on a laugh when she grinned at him. "Fair enough."

"I do have to warn you, though," she said carefully, standing to gather the napkins and throw them into the trash. Closing the pizza box, she used a clean napkin to wipe off the desk. "He likes McLaren."

"It's the orange livery isn't it?" Max sighed. When she nodded, he shrugged. "I'll do my best to not hate him."

She giggled, letting out a snort.

And, for the first time in six months, Max felt lighter.

*-*

"There's my lil doodle bug," Viv cooed as Kevin leapt off the couch and ran towards her. Dropping her purse and work bag, she scooped him into a hug. "Hi sweetheart. How was your day, hm?"

Her son grinned, squeezing her tight. "I fell in poop!"

Viv froze for two seconds and leaned back a little. "What kind of poop?"

"Dog. Yes, it was fresh. Yes, he had a bath. Yes, I washed his clothes," Ellie announced as she came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel. "Your dinner's almost done – How was work?"

Viv kissed her son's cheek and set him down so she could pick up her bags. "I spent the day reading protocols and policies and signing contracts. Oh, and getting my uniform."

Ellie took the knapsack stuffed with team shirts and jackets. "Good thing you love blue huh?"

"No kidding." She glanced over to Kevin, who had climbed back onto the couch and resumed lining his hot wheels along the back. "How was he today?"

"He was fine. You worry too much, mama," Ellie said gently, following y/n to her bedroom. Setting the knapsack down, she took the work bag and reached inside to switch off y/n's work phone. "Ah, ah, you're off now. You don't officially start work until Monday, so they can't expect you to be on call."

"Yes ma'am." Y/n held her hands up in surrender. "I'm gonna change and get him tucked in then I'll eat, promise."

"Perfect. Bridgerton tonight?" Ellie asked on her way out the door.

"You know it!" y/n called after her.

Once she'd changed into sweats and an old t-shirt she went to the living room. "C'mon, doodle bug," she said softly, smiling when Kevin slid off the couch without hesitation. She helped him pack his cars into their cubby, telling him about her boring day at work while she led him to the bathroom so he could brush his teeth. Then to her bedroom, wishing she had been able to afford a larger apartment so he could have his own space. But he didn't seem to mind, and more often than not he ended up crawling into her bed during the night. Something she treasured, because she knew that all too soon he would be "too big" to share a bed with his mama.

Three storybooks and a rambling made up tale about a one-eyed dragon and the princess that saved him from the evil knight later, she pressed a kiss to his cheek and turned off the light. "Good night, sweetheart. Sweet dreams," she whispered before she left the room.

"So I met Max Verstappen today," she told Ellie a few minutes later while fixing her drink.

"Ooo Mr Tu Tu Du Du himself?"

Y/n snorted. "Yeah, that one." The chicken alfredo with a side of broccoli looked so much more appetizing than the greasy pizza she'd had for a late lunch, and she almost felt like she'd cheated on her best friend for ordering takeout.

"What's he like?" Ellie asked, scooping a little more sauce over the noodles.

"He's nice."

"Just nice?"

"I mean, he asked me surface level questions and laughed at my lame jokes? Yeah, nice." Y/n pulled her plate away before Ellie could push more food onto it and sat down to eat. "Everyone's been so nice, Ellie…"

Her friend squeezed her shoulder. "I'm so glad. I have good news, too."

Y/n lifted her eyebrows, unable to speak because her mouth was full.

Ellie sat down, smiling brightly. "I spoke to HR today and Kev will be able to use the daycare."

Gulping down her mouthful of food, y/n gasped. "Oh that's great!" she cried, feeling the weight of worry that had been plaguing her for three weeks lift. "They're sure?"

"Yep, you just have to come in with me before the first and sign a document giving me permission to take him from the premises."

"Excellent, we can go in the morning? I have to go in after lunch to get my kit. Camera, laptop, all that. And Wanda told me to get more shirts so I don't have to worry about laundry while on the road – Oh and I'll be getting our passes."

"Kevin is so excited about Italy. He wants to see the leaning tower of pizza."

"Bless his heart, maybe I can take him one day."

Plans made, she finished her late dinner and did the washing up then changed into her pajamas before settling on the couch to watch Bridgerton. They were rewatching the series so she didn't feel guilty about scrolling her social media, finally biting the bullet and following all of the RedBull people she knew from headquarters.

"You are the bane of my existence… and the object of all my desires."

"Ugh," Y/N and Ellie whined in unison.

"So much nicer than you've had me hard since we met," y/n muttered.

"Let's be real, practically anything is better than that," Ellie agreed.

They finished the episode and y/n headed to bed, keeping as quietly as possible even though she knew her son could sleep through anything. Digging her work phone from her bag, she powered it on to check for any missed messages, smiling slightly when she saw Max had added her on WhatsApp. Adding him back, she was about to turn the phone off again when a new message popped up.

👋🏻

Rolling her eyes, she replied with the same emoji and waited a few seconds before plugging the phone in and turning on do not disturb. She wasn't going to have a late night chat with Max Verstappen of all people. He was probably just being nice, she told herself as she brushed her teeth and did her skincare. Wanda had told her that Max added everyone but rarely messaged anyone aside from Mr. Horner or the engineers.

Besides, she wasn't there to make friends, she reminded herself as she climbed into bed. She could be friendly, but she was there to do a job.

And no flirting with him either, she thought, immediately wondering why the idea had popped into her mind. She would never – okay, she might, if unintentionally. She knew it was a protective thing, knew it was because she had the undesirable need to have everyone like her. But she couldn't do it. Not with him, especially. He'd probably laugh in her face. He was younger than her and probably had a never ending line of gorgeous women waiting to please him.

Before she switched off the lamp she glanced over at her sleeping son. A living, breathing, very real reminder of what she'd gone through just four years ago. And she knew she couldn't go through that again. She wasn't strong enough. She refused to endure that torture and heartache. Kevin needed her, so she had to be strong for him.

Not to mention there was a no hanky-panky clause in her contract?

She had barely closed her eyes when she heard his toddler bed creak. Lying there, she listened to his feet whispering against the rug, smiling in the dark when he slowly slid the covers back.

"Mama," he whispered, and she reached for him. He snuggled close, tucking his head under her chin as she pulled the covers over them.

"Love you, sweetheart," she murmured, pressing a kiss into his hair.

"Love you, Mama."

*-*

"I think it's good, yeah," Max said, eyes scanning the screens of data from the upgrades. "It'll be great for turn seven." Nodding, he listened to the engineers as they went over potential upgrades for Monaco. Once the meeting was finished he grabbed his water bottle and left the room, ignoring the almost immediate phone call from his father. He knew it was his dad without checking, and strode down the hall, intent on leaving and heading straight for the airport to go home. Where he could ignore everything and everyone until Sunday when it was time to fly to Italy.

Rounding the corner, he lurched to a stop as a small child darted in front of him, his giggles echoing down the corridor. The little boy stopped and looked up at Max, blinking slowly.

"Hi!" He waved.

"Hello." Max heard rapid footsteps and glanced up to see y/n iquickly approaching.

"Kevin Scott—"

"I've got him," Max told her with a quick wave, squatting down to the boy's level. "So you're Kevin?"

The boy nodded, light blonde curls bouncing on his head. "I'm Kevin. That's Mama."

"I'm Max. I heard a lot about you."

Kevin's eyes widened. "You know Mama?"

"About this much." Max held his thumb and index finger barely a centimeter apart. He quickly looked to y/n, who was walking up behind Kevin. "I work with her."

"Ohh… She's gonna take me to see cars. D'you like cars Mister Max?" he asked seriously. As though cars were the most important thing in the universe.

"More than I like myself some days," Max quipped, reaching to check the miniature car the boy was holding in his hand. "I drive one like this."

Kevin gasped. "Do you got it here?"

Max chuckled. "We have a lot. Do you want to see them?"

"Please," the boy said, and Max couldn't have said no under any circumstances.

"You have to ask your mum," he said gently. "And maybe say sorry for running away from her?"

Kevin immediately turned to his mother. "Mama I sorry. Can Mister Max take me to cars?"

She sighed, squatting down to fix his shorts. "We've gotta be more careful, sweetheart. And yes, Mister Max can take us to see the cars."

Kevin spun to face Max again. "She said yes!"

Grinning, Max nodded and stood.

"Thank you," y/n said softly. "I'm sor—"

"He's three, yeah?" Max reached to place his hand on the boy's head, gently guiding him closer when he started to wander off. "Don't apologize for him being a child."

She tipped her head at that, then nodded, grabbing hold of Kevin's hand as Max turned to lead them back down the hallway he'd just left. "I only came by to get my kit, and his aunt had paperwork at her new workplace to finish up, so I had to bring him."

"I'm glad you did." Max gave her a gentle smile, using his card to open the door leading to the back of headquarters. "Have you been back here?"

"Only on my tour the other day."

"Just stick with me," he said. They wouldn't be entering the engineer or design areas, only taking the corridor to the garage. Otherwise they'd have to travel all the way to the main entrance and walk around to the back, which would be tedious for her son.

"I'm under contract and signed an NDA, and it's not like I'd know where to go to sell team secrets," she told him. "And I wouldn't even know what I overheard."

"Not a car fan?" he asked, accepting the model car Kevin was shoving at him. Slipping it into his pocket, he guided them along the curving corridor.

"Eh… Kinda? I like racing. I don't understand all the mechanics to it, I just like the adrenaline of watching twenty guys drive really fast. And I can admire good craftsmanship, like a Bugatti or a McLaren, ya know?"

"What do you drive?" Max asked, using his card to open the door to the garage. Met with the faint aroma of rubber and asphalt, he inhaled deeply, catching with it a lighter, more pleasant scent.

"Nothing at the moment. I've been taking an Uber to and from the apartment," she explained. "I'll probably get a used car after my first paycheck."

Max furrowed his brows, stopping on the catwalk. "You haven't gotten paid yet?"

"No? Well, only my signing bonus, and that's gone to household necessities like rent and food. It's fine, Max, I don't need a car right now."

What are you going to do, give her one of yours? he thought, reaching to Kevin and lifting the boy to his hip so he could carry him down the stairs to the main level. Kevin was already oohing and aahing over the neat rows of cars. "It's just me, Brandon," he called, seeing the member of the security team at the other end of the garage. "A quick tour for a new friend, yeah?"

Brandon waved and disappeared around the corner.

At the bottom of the stairs, Max set Kevin down, ushering him to the nearest car. The boy's excitement was contagious, and Max gleefully told him about each one that he'd driven, helping the boy climb into each and press buttons on the steering wheel. Laughing when Kevin made racecar noises, he pulled out his phone to pull up some videos for sound effects. Swiping away the notifications from his dad, he turned up the volume so the engine sounds echoed in the garage, enjoying Kevin's childish glee.

"This one you know," he said, guiding him to the most recent addition. Lifting him into the seat, he squatted down. "This is a car I drove last year, which—" He pulled the model car from his pocket and set it on top of the steering column. "—is just like the one you have."

"Wow." Kevin looked at him with pure awe. "Did you win?"

"I did. And I won the championship too."

"You're a champ-een, Mister Max?" the boy gasped.

"I am."

"Like Lightning McQueen?"

"You could say that," he chuckled, affectionately ruffling the boy's curls. Glancing over at y/n, he paused when he saw she was holding up her phone.

She peered at him over the top. "Is it okay to take pictures?"

"Of course." He had a feeling she'd already taken dozens. He stepped out of the way so she could get photos of Kevin in the car, then lifted him out once she tucked her phone away. "Have you seen the trophies?"

"No. Can we see 'em, Mister Max? Please?"

"You have to ask your mum." Turning, he sent y/n a pleading look as Kevin asked permission.

"As long as Mister Max doesn't mind," she said, rolling her eyes when Kevin squealed yay.

"It's a long walk, do you want me to carry you?"

Kevin squirmed, wriggling so he was piggybacking. "Thank you Mister Max."

His chest tightened, and he reached to adjust the boy's legs around his middle. "You're welcome, Kevin. We do have to make a stop on the way to the trophy case, though."

Next to him, y/n cleared her throat. "I can take him if you've got something to do."

"No, it's fine, a quick stop," Max assured her, motioning for her to go up the stairs first.

"A pit stop?" Kevin asked, giggling as Max jogged up the steps.

"Exactly that. No more than ten seconds," he promised.

Fifteen minutes later, he was squatting down to fix the collar of Kevin's new shirt. "There you go, mate. What do you think?"

Kevin grinned and gave him a thumb's up.

Max looked up at y/n, who rolled her eyes. "He has to be Team Red Bull," he explained with a shrug, adjusting Kevin's new cap with a grin. Thanking the merch manager, he handed over the bag of goodies he'd grabbed and motioned for Kevin to climb onto his back.

"Thank you!" Kevin called, waving enthusiastically as he was carried out.

"Thank you, Max," y/n murmured while they walked towards reception. "But please don't get him anything else."

"I won't," he said softly. "If I overstepped—"

"No, no, it's fine. He'll wear the shirts until they're too small and he'll play with the models until they fall apart. I just don't want him to think he'll get this type of treatment all the time."

"I understand." He nodded. She didn't want her son to be spoiled. Which he found admirable. "…So giving him one of my old cars is out of the question?"

She halted, jaw dropping. "Max!"

"A joke!" he promised, flashing her a grin as he jogged ahead.

"Not funny," she scoffed behind him, and he heard her huff as she ran to catch up. "Those things cost probably a million—"

Max swung around, easily catching Kevin and swinging him back onto his back. "The car for Miami was about sixteen million."

Her eyes widened. "Sixteen—" She pressed her hands together right in front of her mouth. "Million? As in sixteen then six zeroes behind it?"

Nodding, he started walking backwards, amused at her reaction. She was staring at him in shock, and her son was giggling. "It's hard to pinpoint an exact cost, because we reuse some components from race to race. A chassis, or wings, yeah? If you really wanted to know I can pull up the data and get the price for each part—"

"No," she said, shaking her head slowly. "Please don't. I'd probably faint."

"It's an expensive sport, y/n," he reminded her.

"Yeah no shit," she muttered, exhaling harshly. "I've got so much to learn."

"You'll be fine." He'd meant it to come out in an offhand manner. A generic it's okay so feelings wouldn't be hurt. But it came out gently, laced with reassurance and promise. And, before he could stop himself, his mouth opened again. "If you have any questions you can ask me."

"I can Google," she told him.

"I can change my Wikipedia to say I'm eighty-six. Doesn't make it true," he quipped.

To his relief, she laughed. "Fair point. I'll be sure and ask you."

He turned his attention back to Kevin, swinging him from his back to his hip. Reception was empty, and he set the boy down so he could explore the various displays. "He can't hurt anything," he reassured her, knowing she was watching carefully as Kevin ran over to a wing displayed on the wall.

"I just worry," she sighed.

"Why do you sound like you're apologizing?" Folding his arms over his chest, he watched Kevin walk around the large room, drinking it all in. "You're his mother, you're supposed to worry. If you didn't you would have to apologize."

"Thank you."

"He's a good kid, y/n," he said softly.

"I think so too." He could hear the smile in her voice and turned slightly to see it on her face.

Every other time he'd been in this room the weather outside had been cloudy or rainy. He couldn't remember the sun ever shining as he'd stood there to soak in all the history. Until now. It poured through the windows, causing the trophies in the cases to sparkle and the polished floor to gleam. It shone into her eyes, and he could only stare at her as she squinted a little, a tiny dimple appearing in her left cheek.

God, she was lovely.

She glanced at him and his breathing kickstarted. Unconsciously licking his lips, he cleared his throat. "You seem to be doing well, for a single mom."

Her smile faltered and he mentally kicked himself. She looked to Kevin, who was studying the Red Bull logo on the wall, and looked at Max again. "I didn't have a choice."

"I'm sorry," he said automatically.

"Oh he's not dead." She watched her son, her smile gone. "Just dead to us."

"Then I'm sorry for bringing it up." It had ruined the day. Well, alright, not the day but the moment. They'd been having fun, he'd been having fun.

You always fuck up don't you?

His jaw clenched as the angry voice from years ago echoed in his mind.

"It's okay, Max." Her gentle voice cut through the echoes of the past and he forced his jaw to relax.

Nodding, he uncrossed his arms and called to Kevin, taking him by the hand and leading him to the towering trophy case. "Come on, y/n, time to learn some history."

She snorted on a laugh but joined them, and he could tell she was paying attention as he rattled off years and races and drivers to Kevin.

You're going to fuck this up too, the voice sneered.

[disneyprincemuke]

best dress * fem!driver

when pictures circulate on instagram of her on a night out in her best dress, the guys start to get curious who she’s out and about with on a saturday night

pairings: sebastian vettel x fem!driver, oscar piastri x fem!driver, logan sargeant x fem!driver, george russell x fem!driver, lando norris x fem!driver, max verstappen x fem!driver

warnings: none

notes: i may have gotten carried away with this one… and this might have played out a LOT funnier in my head than it does written down

(series masterlist) | (📂 the rookie season)

-> the aftermath

she pushes the door open and steps out of her racing home. she looks left and right cautiously, careful not to catch her colleagues’ attentions. there’s many nights she’d appreciate their companionship but tonight is not that night.

she can only step one down before her worst nightmare comes to life.

“hey, where are you going?” she turns her head, mouth agape as she meets lando’s curious eyes. his eyes scan her body and his head tilts. “and why are you all dressed up?”

she straightens her body and pats her dress down. she flicks her hair behind her shoulder, trying to ignore the awkward tension in the air.

“um,” she trails off, glancing at the group of engineers walking past them without another thought. “i’m going out tonight.”

lando’s smile drops. “oh,” he slouches, “i was here to ask you if you wanted to grab drinks with us at the bar tonight.”

“hey lando, did you f- what are you wearing?” oscar’s jaw drops, nose scrunched up as he points at her in what can only be described as disgust. “where are you even going?”

“out,” she answers with gritted teeth, glancing at the gantries of the paddocks. it’s so close yet so far away. “i’ll see you guys tomorrow, okay? i’ve really got to go.”

“but you never turn down post-quali drinks at the bar,” lando frowns. he presses his palm against his chest and throws his head back. “i can’t believe you’d betray me like that.”

oscar looks her up and down, eyebrow raising as it gets to the heels she’s put on. “why are you wearing heels? seriously, where the hell are you going?”

“exploring the city!”

“exploring the c– we’re here year after year. we know the best spots!” lando defends. “come on! we’re going to have so much fun!”

“you’re exploring the city in heels?”

she narrows her eyes down into a mean glare. of course this is the one time that oscar decides to remember she doesn’t wear high heels for exploration purposes. “yeah.”

“you know you want to come with us.” lando shimmies his shoulders, face hopeful that the driver would change her mind. but she still shakes her head and his smile immediately drops. “fine. be that way.”

“i’m sorry, i already arranged my plans even before we flew to miami,” she laughs sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck. “if you guys are going out tomorrow, i’m free to join.”

lando intertwines his fingers. “okay. but if you cancel again, i’m crashing into you the next race.”

“okay,” she chuckles, readjusting the strap of her purse. “i’ll catch you guys tomorrow.”

oscar rolls his eyes, but a smile still stretches his lips. “don’t get lost. it’s a big city, (y/n).”

“yeah, penelope’s doing amazing,” max nods, his arm resting on the back of lando’s chair. one of his legs over the other, he takes a swig of his beer. “she just started school recently.”

“oh, i s-“

“hold up!” lando holds his arm out to max’s chest, his scream startling everyone seated around the table. the light from his phone illuminates his face as everyone turns to him with a puzzled stare. “oh, my god!”

“what?” max answers just as enthusiastically, smacking lando’s thigh to get his attention. lando lifts the phone up into his face, squinting as he tries to make out the person in the picture.

“yeah, don’t cut me off,” george scoffs as he folds his arms over his chest. “i was just asking if-“

“(y/n)’s out on a date!” lando yells, smacking max’s chest. he pushes himself off the chair and throws the phone into george’s lap. “dude, i knew it! i knew there was a reason she’s all dressed up!”

“seriously!” george screams towards his fellow brit.

“a date?” oscar scoffs, in absolute disbelief that his best friend could even have the ability to attract a man. “there’s no way.”

max grins sheepishly, handing the phone over to the australian. “i’m afraid so. someone saw her in a restaurant with a guy,” max states, “it’s all over instagram.”

oscar snorts, slowly analysing the grainy picture of the girl in a restaurant with somebody. sure, it’s similar to the dress she wore when they caught her sneaking out of the paddocks, but how sure can they be that it’s her?

“we should go and find her!” max suggests, his face lighting up and cheeks flushed from all the alcohol. he jumps in his seat and smacks george’s thigh lightly. “dude, let’s find her!”

“are you crazy?” george grabs max’s hand and throws it back at his body. “her date’s none of our business!”

though, lando disagrees with his friend. he clasps his hands together with a loud sound. “let’s go, gentlemen. we’re crashing (y/n)’s date.”

but only max stands up, hands on his hips and chest puffed out. “i’m ready. i’ve got my brave face on.”

“you look absolutely ridiculous,” george raises an eyebrow, “i don’t believe you used to scare off victoria’s suitors when you were younger.”

“me neither, but it somehow worked,” max nods proudly, turning slightly to look at george. “come on! this is practice for when it’s penelope’s turn! i have to make it believable this time.”

“you’re so drunk, mate,” george sighs. yet he still gets off his seat. “but i kinda want to see this with my own eyes.”

lando turns to oscar, still planted in his seat. lando doesn’t get to say a word before oscar starts shaking his head vigorously.

lando slouches. “why not?”

“i absolutely don’t believe that (y/n) is strong enough to take me in a normal fight,” oscar shakes his head, “but i’ve learned my lesson squeezing myself into a scenario that involves her dating life.”

george tilts his head. “what?”

oscar looks up, eyes scanning the three older men towering over him. “she gave me a really bad bruise one time when i scared off this guy that hit on her in the mall.”

“so?” max yanks oscar off his seat. “i’ll protect you. come on, i’ve got to see who’s sweeping (y/n) off her feet.”

“okay, but remember to tell her i tried to stop you,” oscar mutters, letting max push him towards the door.

after many dms sent on instagram, phone calls made, and struggles to find a taxi, the four have finally arrived at the restaurant. it’s a quiet establishment in the further end of the city, heads turning as passersby recognise the huddled men by the entrance.

“are you sure it’s this one?” oscar looks up at the sign. it’s a lot fancier than he expected. “doesn’t really seem like (y/n)’s gig.”

“if i were taking the grid’s princess out on a date, i’d take her to a fancy restaurant too,” max shrugs, following oscar’s stare.

the amount of time it took them to connect the puzzle pieces really sobered him up.

george taps his foot on the ground, craning his neck for a better look through the window. “are you sure it’s here? i don’t see her.”

“the girl that posted it said she was here when snapped the picture,” lando confirms, looking between his phone screen and the sign of the restaurant. “what if (y/n) tricked us knowing we’d come running?”

once the server comes back out, guiding them to their table, each of them does their own part to pick the girl from the crowd.

“i don’t see her,” max sighs, taking one last look at the restaurant’s tables and picking up the menu. “there’s no way we ditched the bar for a wild goose chase.”

“because she’s in the far corner over there,” oscar says nonchalantly, head flicking towards the other end of the restaurant where it’s slightly darker than normal. “i noticed her when we were outside the restaurant.”

george slowly turns his head to oscar. “while we were busting our asses looking for her?”

oscar shrugs, eyes boring into the menu for a snack to fill himself with. “i told you — i’m not getting another bruise for meddling with her love life.”

“nice! there’s a table closer to her!” max suddenly says, already on his feet to follow the waiter. he turns around and beckons his friends to follow him. “come on!”

they keep their heads low as the face of the familiar girl comes into sight. oscar even covers with his face with the menu, having learned his lesson from all those years ago.

they’re a table diagonal from her, menus up to cover their faces from her. “dude, who is she with?”

“i don’t know, i can’t get a look at his face without revealing mine,” george mutters, peeking slightly above his menu. he darts back down and rolls his eyes. “max, your turn.”

“don’t make it look obvious,” lando mutters, nudging max’s elbow with his. “look like you’re looking for a waiter.”

max swiftly turns in his seat, completely twisting his torso to get a look. but the man is faced away, the driver comfortably sitting in the booth seat as she giggles at something he said.

“dude, i can’t,” max shrugs, shying away behind his menu once more.

to the table next to them, a menu drops and reveals sebastian. “what are you idiots doing here?”

george’s jaw drops, pointing a finger at the older man. “we could ask you the same.”

“we saw her getting in a random ass car outside the paddocks.” the other menu across sebastian lowers, revealing logan with his hood covering his head. “we followed her here.”

“so you know who she’s with?” max asks in a hushed whisper, leaning towards their table. he looks down at the empty table. “you haven’t ordered anything?”

“it took us a while to get a table,” logan shrugs, pulling his hood further down to cover his face. “food’s in the kitchen.”

“oh, what did you get?” max asks, now looking back at the menu for something to order.

“mate!” george scolds, rolling his eyes before facing the other table. “who is she with?”

“according to blythe, it’s jacob elordi,” sebastian says, then shrugs with the roll of his eyes. “whoever that is.”

“oh, i’ve heard of him,” max nods, pressing his lips together. “he was in euphoria, wasn’t he?”

the table falls silent, heads turning to look at the dutchman as his confession falls from his lips. max notices their stares and he simply shrugs. “kelly and i like to watch shows over the break.”

“still not a show i expected you to be watching,” lando scoffs, turning slightly to get a glimpse of the girl once more. “isn’t he a bit too old for her?”

max straightens up, stiffly turning to look at lando. his head tilts as an unimpressed expression lands on his face. “dude. easy on the age gap.”

“yours doesn’t count,” lando sighs, “she’s practically a baby!”

oscar clicks his tongue. “but i mean… jacob elordi isn’t ugly, yes? an upgrade from her only boyfriend, right, max?”

max shrugs. “i guess.”

sebastian nods towards the table, his eyes suddenly widening at the empty booth seat. “where did she go? did she ditch him?”

“no, she caught you.” a low feminine voice makes all their heads turn to the end of the table. she looks down and pulls the hood off of logan’s head and shoves him forward slightly. “why are you here? you’re better than this!”

logan shrugs, chuckling slightly. “you were being secretive! i was just curious!”

“this is the last time i’m going on a date from the paddocks,” she grunts, stomping her heel into the ground. “go home, you guys! we’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

sebastian hisses as the waiter stops behind her, dishes resting on top of the tray in his hands. “we already got some food.”

she narrows her eyes down, locking eyes with max. “you’re here too?”

max nods. “i suggested this,” his eyes go around the table, “team bonding activity.”

“i just wanted to see what would happen,” george admits. he points at max seated opposite him, “he said he wanted to scare off whoever your date is.”

“it’s true, i heard him say it,” lando nods, a small and guilty smile flashes at her. “we were just concerned about you.”

sebastian grabs her wrist gently, shaking her arm. “don’t be mad anymore. come on…”

“and you!” she points a finger at the australian sitting quietly between logan and george. his head snaps up at the yelp, wide and guilty eyes meeting hers. “i told you to stop meddling with my love life!”

“what?” oscar screams back, dropping his menu. “i was dragged here against my will!”

“i don’t believe you!”

“max!” oscar looks at max, then points at the furious girl as he awaits his explanation.

max stares at him for a second too long, and a giggle erupts from his throat. “right! right… we forced him here. he did not want another bruise, he said.”

“good,” she scolds, turning on her heel. “we’re leaving.”

“but we just got here!” lando squeaks. he cowers into his seat when she turns back around to glare at him, giving him flashbacks to a time when his mother would use it on him. “i mean, enjoy your time and don’t get too tired. it’s race day tomorrow.”

oscar doesn’t bother looking at her again. “see you tomorrow, loser.”

“where are you going?” george asks, a mischevious grin on his face to challenge her. “back to the hotel for some fun time?”

“a walk,” she sighs, dropping her head. she leans on the table. “my heels are killing me.”

“oh, i’ve got you,” sebastian mutters, disappearing underneath the table. out of his bag is a pair of doll shoes, the ones that she keeps in the garage when her time in the race car is over. “i saw these lying around aimlessly and thought i should keep them for you before it gets too dirty.”

she glares at him, hesitantly taking the shoes into her hand. “you took these from my room, didn’t you?”

sebastian shrugs. “you don’t wear heels very often, kid.”

“give me recommendations for date places,” logan smiles. “maybe next time i’ll have a girl out here with me. like you with jacob elordi.”

her mood changes back to what it was before: a mixture of irritation and not one of amusement. “i will kill you guys tomorrow. my date is waiting for me outside.”

oscar waves her towards the door. “i trust you’ll text logan and i about this later.”

“hey, i want in!” lando adds on, completely ignoring the girl walking away to the door.

“dude, this is seriously none of our business.”

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @inejismywife

[alexaloraetheris]

Oh boy, I feel like it's time for a post nobody will like.

We all know clothes are getting worse. Recently I found some jeans I bought in high school, and since I lost weight recently I tried them on and they fit, so I'll be wearing them once we get out of the Hell season.

But I took them and compared them to the most recent pair of jeans I bought, and... Honestly the difference in quality is so fucking stark it made me want to give up on life. The jeans I wore in high school have gone through everything. I'm talking half of Europe here, because one of our teachers was pretty big on school trips everywhere she could get the money for. They've been washed, tumbled, survived an actual car crash and they're still good.

The most recent pair I machine-washed ONCE, everything else was hand-wash only. I babied them to the max because they made my ass look like was on Instagram. Do you know what they look like now?

They're full of fixes like these. They lasted less than a year on their own. I got another decent year out of them SOLELY because I kept fixing them. And fixing them again. The crotch alone I had to fix SEVEN TIMES. I COUNTED.

And these weren't cheap jeans! C&A jeans tend to be around 40$ these days, and I got these for about 30 with a discount. I expected them to last me AT LEAST a few years, because those high school jeans? THEY'RE THE SAME FUCKING BRAND.

Considering this was the quality I was getting for nearly 40$ I figured I might as well get the same quality for 15$ and downloaded SHEIN. I didn't get jeans from them but I got some light, fluttery summer pants in the style that, honestly, I fucking love. I got three pairs for the price of one C&A jeans, and I am aware I will have to baby them even more, because out of the five pairs of pants in total I have bought on SHEIN only ONE is made of the fabric that I might be brave enough to machine wash. And with SHEIN continually getting sued for using sweatshops I probably won't be getting those pants again.

So what to do with that shitfuck situation?

I am insanely lucky my grandma knew how to sew really well and didn't mind me looking over her shoulder as long as I was quiet. I am aware that's not a skill everyone has, but quite frankly? When nobody has any money and even paying big bucks for clothes does not guarantee any kind of quality, and even fucking THRIFT STORES are full of just junk now, I think it's time to face the facts.

You need to learn how to sew.

I'm not talking about sewing your own clothes, though if you can and you have the time and patience, it's probably the best option (good luck finding decent fabric, because we can't even find THAT anymore unless you're ordering from fucking Belgium). I'm talking about fixing up seams and sewing on a patch, little repairs that make your clothes last. It might be junk, but with sewing you can make it last twice as long for the price of a spool of thread.

Now that I've pissed off everyone who is, for some reason, morally opposed to learning how to sew because it's a 'girly hobby' or 'supporting the patriarchy' (a take that left me baffled like nothing else) I'm going to piss off everyone who already knows how to sew.

I recommend getting this little guy.

It's called a stapler sewing machine, for obvious reasons. If I recall correctly, it was invented to fix clothes on the go for fashion shows and/or cosplay. It does only a chain stitch and needs to be pushed manually, but if you need to, like, hem your trousers and you don't want to spend half an hour on doing it manually (and don't already have an actual sewing machine) this is a lifesaver.

Here's a tutorial how it operates:

Now, why am I recommending this? Because it will only set you back six bucks. I got two right off the bat because I was banking on one not working (and I was right) and so I could use it for spare parts. The one in the video (Spring Come) is the one I have as well, and it's the one that actually works. I can't vouch for any unmarked ones, but the blue one works. It IS a little temperamental, but with a bit of practice it makes things so much easier.

The reason I'm not recommending an electric machine of any kind, even the one that costs 18$, is because, if you're a beginner, then an automatic sewing machine becomes a machine that exponentially speeds up the rate at which you make mistakes, and if it breaks down, good luck fixing it unless you have a dad/uncle/friend who knows his electronics. This thing can be fixed with a screwdriver, and takes the same needles as an ordinary sewing machine.

You can buy a bundle of needles just about anywhere for any price and they'll be decent as long as they're steel, but I would recommend looking for some actual better quality thread. Everywhere else, you can pinch pennies, but the thread itself is what's holding your clothes together, so this should be the part where you're looking for quality instead of price.

Alright, those of you who didn't scroll past with a derisive scoff at my take, I hope I've been helpful.

[mv1simp]

High For This ♥️

Max Verstappen x Driver!Reader

you don’t know what’s in store, but you know what you’re here for (trust me girl, you’ll wanna be high for this)

You’re celebrating your P2 out at a London club, hoping the shots you’re taking drown out the annoyance at having lost to your rival, Max Verstappen, yet again. But there’s something a little extra in the tequila tonight that has you set afire for the Dutch Lion. He’s all too happy to put the pretty Ferrari princess in her place - right underneath him.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, dark!max, sub! Reader, aphrodisiac use, breeding kink, mention of babytrapping, dubcon, size kink, WC 3.7k

The music in the nightclub is head pounding, the loud bass sending vibrations along the dancefloor and up your petite frame. It’s hard to keep track of where your friends have gone amongst all the flashing neon lights and you have to use all your energy to focus on keeping them in sight.

You hadn’t expected to go this crazy tonight, truly. It was meant to be a relaxed night out at dinner with a few friends to celebrate your P2 today in Silverstone. An outstanding result for Ferrari’s first female driver, and anyone else would be celebrating grandly for ending up on the podium as a rookie instead of having a lowkey night! But the victory was bittersweet for you as P1 had been stolen by an….aggressive driver who’d almost slammed you into the walls when you tried to go overtake him. Max Verstappen, Redbull’s golden boy, wasn’t going to give up his status as reigning champion for anyone - even if she was the latest media sensation as the new, pretty Ferrari driver.

It was so unfair, you thought, how Max always seemed to respectfully drive wheel to wheel with your teammate, Charles. You got that they’d driven together for years but didn’t you deserve to be treated with some goddamn respect too? You’d earned your seat, after all, having leaped through endless hoops and battles to get your position and ranking consistently each race! But even though both the Ferrari drivers could make Max sweat, he only seemed to care about his childhood rival, Charles.

Meanwhile, anytime you’d try to sweetly smile at him in the post race debrief and congratulate him, he would ignore you completely at best - or look like he wanted to cut off the conversation at worst. He was probably just a sore loser who couldn’t handle feeling threatened by a girl, you thought sourly a couple races ago when he yet again ignored you, acting as if you didn’t exist but animatedly laughing with your teammate.

So you’d pushed down any feelings of awe or admiration you’d once had growing up for the Dutch Lion and traded them in to throw shady insults and catty comments in the post race interviews. They definitely didn’t go unnoticed by the media, who had a field day with the normally perfect Ferrari princess finally giving them something to gossip about - her star crossed rivalry with the reigning Redbull champion who’s started to turn his stormy gaze on you with the recent change in your attitude. If he was going to just ignore you either way, you thought smugly after your post-race interview today, you might as well have some fun with it.

Tonight you were dragged out by your friends to at least enjoy a nice dinner after P2 - even though you’d been upset about missing out on P1 again. But dinner had turned into cocktails, and then into hopping around a few bars, and finally you’d ended up in a popular booming nightclub, littered with socialites and many of the F1 paddock personalities - even your fellow Ferrari driver. Charles had come upto congratulate you when you arrived, even though you could tell from the clench of his jaw he hadn’t been happy with a rookie outperforming him today. See, you thought brattily. If even your teammate could put his ego aside why did the Redbull champion have to act so up himself?

Your friends distracted you from your tension by handing you a shot. Feeling quite sober, you’d easily slammed it back, and then were handed another. You swear you hadn’t had anymore than that, knowing you were in a very large, popular club with phones trained on you as a pretty F1 driver.

Yet you found yourself feeling heady in the lights and sweat of the neon club, head thumping to the rhythm of the bass as you twirled your body to the beat. Your friends had thought you were finally letting loose and had excitedly gone to get more drinks, and deposited you at Charles’s side while they went to the bar. Out of the corner of your eye, you see a handsome, tall figure at your teammate’s side, intently listening as his muscled forearm nursed a beer. Max.

You can’t resist the scowl on your face as you recognise him. When both drivers immediately turn to you, you realise that you’d accidentally said his name out loud. Oops. Just ignore me. Like you usually do.

Charles glances between you two, somewhat amused, as Max’s eyes narrow at the overly sweet tone that don’t blunt your bratty words. Before your teammate could intervene, his phone rings, with his girlfriend Alex’s photo popping onto the screen. Making you promise to wait here for your friends, Charles takes off into the crowd to find his girl.

You sighed deeply as you watched him go, leaning your head against your palm as you leaned against the counter. Your body felt so heavy suddenly, as if you couldn’t support it anymore. Strange, you really hadn’t thought you’d drunk that much…

Max chuckles lowly next to you. Maybe the precious Ferrari princess just can’t handle her alcohol. You did only have two drinks, after all.

You try to snap your head towards him and glare, but your movements feel sluggish. What, are stalking me now, Verstappen?

For some reason you’re feeling hotter now, almost by the second, fanning yourself despite the cute matching miniskirt and cropped long sleeve set you were wearing. The very picture of the pretty princess you’d been nicknamed, of course, your lush figure and caramel skin highlighted by the revealing and tight outfit. Max is watching you intently, tilting his head to the side. With a start you realize he’s never focused that icy blue gaze directly into your brown doe eyes before - not that you’d noticed, at least. It makes you feel even hotter, pink flush spreading across your chubby cheeks as you dazedly look up at the much taller and broader Dutchman.

Then he’s asking if you want to go somewhere quieter, cool down. You faintly remember promising Charles you’d stay at the bar for your friends but in the moment you take to hesitate, Max has taken your small hand in his and lead you through the crowd. His warm skin against yours makes you feel even hotter, a fire now spreading through your body. You’ve never felt like this before, stumbling in your strappy heels but his strong, vein arm is immediately around your waist and pulling you into him.

Max, you say breathily, letting your head fall against his broad chest as he easily guided you into a secluded hallway. His heartbeat against your ear sounds sounds so much calmer and slower than your rapidly beating one. You feel so desperate for something, but you don’t know what. You close your eyes for a second because your eyelids feel so heavy, and then you’re being lowered onto a sofa, the amazing relief of an aircon blowing across your tanned skin.

You can’t help but moan at the sensation, pretty nipples hardening in the chill and your back arching to bring yourself closer to the cool air as your head lies back. When you’re finally able to open your eyes, you see Max sitting next to you, his icy blue eyes still fixed on your cute blushing face, on your thick, glossy lips that were now parted and breathing heavily. You’re in some sort of private VIP booth, you realise slowly, the door firmly closed behind Max, with the neon red lighting and thumping bass making it clear the club was on the other side.

You feel like you’re forgetting something but it takes all your energy to focus on what it is. Oh! That’s right - I need to tell my frie-friends where I went, you say, feeling out of breath, looking down for your phone but seeing it’s nowhere in sight. Max takes a slow swig of his beer, his gaze also wandering down your body, taking in the way your generous curves were on display in the slutty outfit you’d worn instead of your race suit for once. Already told them, he says casually. They already left to the next club, said they’d meet you there once you’d…settled down a bit.

Oh. You blink, still flushed, your throat feeling parched. Can-can I have some water then, Max?

He smirks. You’re so much cuter when you’re all shy like this. Go on then, get your water.

He gestures behind him, where a pitcher of cool water sits - but with the wall on one side of you and a table directly in front, you have no choice but to go over Max who’s blocking you in. Normally, you would’ve just stood up, or even told him to fuck off and get you the water. But you feel so heavy, so clouded, that it just feels right to just crawl over Max’s legs, to reach past him and grab the jug with a hand…

You’re gulping down the refreshing water, feeling temporary relief to the dryness in your throat. When you finally put the jug down you find that you’re firmly in Max’s lap, your plush thighs straddling his hips and his large hands gripping onto your soft waist. You can’t quite remember just how you ended up like this, so you whine a little and wiggle your hips to try you slide off him. But his grip tightens, angling you forward so that you can feel something very large and hard pressed up against your skirt. He’s eyeing your tits hungrily, your nipples so painfully hard now that the edge of them are peeking out over the top of your neckline. Max licks his smirking lips. Feeling a little hot, Princess? He coos. Do your pretty little tits hurt? Want me to make them feel better?

You quickly shake your head, your pride still standing strong, not sure what he’s talking about when he says he can take away the pain -

But then he’s moving your small body easily against his hard on, his powerful hands controlling your hips. You whine then because oh, this is what he meant, it feels so good, Maxie. Your tiny palms latch onto his muscled shoulders as sparks shoot up your cunny from the delicious friction of his jeans pressing into your soaked panties. You’ve never felt this sensitive before, felt so responsive to someone’s touch…but of course Max would be able to do this. He was just so good at everything. He was the driver you’d always had a childhood crush on - that apparently hadn’t faded away as you bury your whining mouth into his thick, muscular neck, suckling and biting weakly. He chuckles, his large ands greedily roaming across your barely clothed back, sending shivers everytime his skin touched yours. It’s so hot, Maxie, I feel like I’m burning-

When he sweetly whispers that he could take your clothes off, just the outer layer of course, he’d let you keep your bra and panties on. You’re nodding obediently, even the act of moving your heavy head feels too much and grateful he’s here to help you take your miniskirt and crop top off and toss them to the side.

If you were a bit more alert you might realize that you’re now in your rival’s lap, jumping and grinding on his jeans in your cute white lace lingerie. But instead all you can focus on is how good grinding against his impressive hard on feels, mmh, oh my god, even your vibrator couldn’t make you so wet-

Max laughs in your ear. He teasingly asks if your fans know about your little toy, wasn’t that too naughty for their perfect princess to use? He didn’t believe it…unless you told him exactly what you fantasized about when using it, hmm?

The heady feeling from the drinks, from the tension, from Max’s addictive touch sending sparks all over your body as he squeezes your plump ass, has you spilling secrets you never thought you would. About how you’d always think of a certain blonde Dutchman when using your tiny bullet vibrator, biting your lip and imagining how much more exciting the post race interview would be if you two had some other physical way of proving who deserved to win….

You can barely keep track of what’s happening next because the pleasure you’re feeling is already so overwhelming. You can only think about how good you feel, of how Max is huskily whispering that he knows, Princess, what you always wanted because he’d heard you through your hotel walls moaning his name.

You’re so caught up in it all you’re not sure how you ended up panting into Max’s mouth, his tongue shoved deep past your lips as he languidly explores your mouth to his liking. And dazedly you realize your hands are gripping onto his bare shoulders as he’s shirtless now, your soft chest all flushed up against his hard pecs. At least you were wearing your underwear, so it wasn’t that bad-

You finally notice that your lacey bra is actually nowhere in sight, and your bare, juicy tits are now bouncing up against him with each grind. And at some point your cute panties have been ripped in half, hanging on by shreds as Max’s teasing fingers are now toying with your dripping slit from behind.

You squeal, completely startled at the new position, embarrassed that you’re so wet, you hadn’t even known you could do that - so Max lifts you up to throw his jeans to the side because you were making such a mess, Princess. Your mouth eagerly finds his, the deep passionate kiss providing some mind numbing relief to the burning desire you feel. Filthy sounds fill the air - from your kissing, you think dreamily. But you’re so wet you hadn’t even noticed his thick fingers slipping inside until he was buried deep, pumping them in and out of your tight cunny easily.

Within seconds he has you cumming, spraying slick everywhere and making Max smack your ass aggressively as punishment for making such a mess all over his lap. You tear up at his mocking tone, your wide doe eyes pleading for his mercy. He tells you there’s only one way you can make it upto him, a wicked smile on his face as he rubs your pouting thick lips.

That’s how you end up with his cock shoved down your throat, choking and drooling on it as he moans and praises you. Sitting on your generous ass in between his spread thighs, your tiny palms rapidly jerk off his base while you worship his cockhead. You don’t think you’ve ever enjoyed sucking a cock as much as this in your entire life, your pussy continuously gushing and leaving slick all over the dirty club floor. You blush prettily when he tangles his hands through your dark curls, thrusting his hips to fuck your eager mouth.

Things are getting hazier and hazier and your eyes can’t keep themselves open, so overwhelmed from all the sensations and dirty sounds that sounds straight of a porn video filling the air. When you blink them open them again, you’re lying on your back on the sofa, looking up at the dim red lights dazedly. And then you feel the delicious mind numbing pleasure in between your legs, and look down to see Max grunting as he thrusts something thick and veiny in between your spread thighs, sweat dripping down his abs.

It takes you a few seconds to realize that it’s his cock, all thick and angry looking, that he’s bullying into your pussy - making you take him completely raw. Somewhere in the back of your mind you feel like something’s wrong, like maybe he’s forgetting something. But it feels so good that you’re squirting again all over him, throwing your head back and squeezing your eyes shut while he praises you for being such a good, obedient little girl…why weren’t you like this all the time, hmm?

Your mixed juices have ruined the sofa beyond any hopes of repair. Max will have to leave a cheque behind for the clubowner, he thinks wickedly. But that’s for later. For now, he only cares about your twitching, sensitive body underneath him that he’s meanly abusing to pleasure his cock. Your tiny cunny is stretched impossibly wide, so much that it should hurt but instead it feels so addictive, making you pant ah, ah! even in your semi lucid state.

Max grins devilishly as his gaze shifts from your glazed eyes to watch the messy sight of himself sliding in and out of you. He looks even hotter to you in the red neon lighting, all sculpted jawline and his muscled, broad figure highlighted above your much smaller body. He’s gripping you by the hips to move you up and down his length, watching your drooling pussy cover his aching cock in your sticky sweet cum, a creamy white ring forming around his base.

It feels so fuckin’ good you whine, your head lost in cloud 9 of sinful pleasure. You’re confused because you know you’ve already cum twice, and normally would feel so overstimulated by now. But the desire and raw lust is just getting stronger and stronger. It’s all cause you’ve been ignoring how attractive you’ve always found the blonde currently having his way with you, your blissed out brain convinces. So when Max presses down, and you can feel his warm chest up against your bouncing tits, and you wrap your arms around his thick neck and desperately beg him for more.

He smirks, pleased with your obedience, and doesn’t hesitate to ask you to use your words, Princess, making you spell out how you wanted him to fuck you harder, please, you felt like you were going to die if you didn’t cum-

Max makes sure to give you exactly what you so sweetly asked, your cute face flushed and breathless as you gazed adoringly up at him with hearts in your eyes. Your throat becomes raw from how much you scream his name without any regard for who might hear as you reach your high, squirting on his cock, for the third time that night. Your fucked our body finally passes out and you’re sinking into a blissful sleep, finally satisfied. But you don’t know that you’re still split open with him deep inside you as he selfishly chases his own high. His large palms greedily roam all over your pliable body on display under him, biting your soft skin to mark his territory.

The next time you open your brown doe eyes, you’re in an unfamiliar dark room, sprawled across a comfortable white bed. An alarm clock tells you it’s well into the next morning, and you’re sure your manager is furious with the morning debrief you missed hours ago. You’re confused again, not sure how you ended up here, and then your mind catches up to feel a warm and large body pressed into you from behind. Their strong arms are caged around you, so strong that you can’t move, their toned chest rising with every breath they take in deep sleep.

You let out a panicked gasp, the earlier desperation between your thighs now gone intense and replaced with fear at the unknown location, at the unknown man who’s behind you-

Shhhh, prinses, a deep, familiar Dutch voice sleepily murmurs in your ear. It’s just me, hmm?

You immediately relax, a pretty blush spreading across your face as it turns out you’d gone home with the handsome Redbull champion. He hums, the low sound vibrating across your neck and making somehow making desire bloom in your gut despite how thoroughly you’d been fucked last night.

You find yourself teasingly pressing your juicy ass behind you, grinding on his impressive morning wood. He growls, still half asleep himself, but when you brattily grind harder he rewards you with his wandering large hands. You eagerly moan as he squeezes your luscious tits and rolls your pretty dusky nipples in between his fingers, letting out a squeal when he occasionally pinches them.

Soon enough the air is filled with the raunchy sounds of your cunny being used as Max’s hands slide down your hickey covered hips and he sinks a finger into your wet heat. You’re so impossibly wet, and you can’t tell what’s yours and what’s his. Did y-you cum last night Maxie? You ask breathlessly. You’re getting deja vú, as hazy memories of last night surface. You used a condom, right?

He stop your anxious questions by sliding his tongue back into your pouting mouth, darkly promising you that he’d tried to put on the condom, really, but you’d begged and begged him to cum inside, remember? You kept asking to be filled up until it dripped down your legs cause there was so much of it.

You flush furiously at his words, embarrassed of your earlier slutty actions and obediently buried your teary face into the pillow when he pressed down on your head. You let him replace his fingers with his raging erection instead, grunting with each thrust that rocks your petite form underneath him. The silk pillowcase is quickly ruined with your tears and drooling tongue as he presses a heavy palm in between your shoulder blades and practically fucks you into the mattress.

And when Max finally tenses above you, panting into your ear and gripping your ass as he presses his weight down on you from behind, your pussy twitches and spasms as he floods your walls again with his gooey, thick cum. It tastes so good so good, too you think when he sinks his fingers into your folds and makes you lick them clean.

Safe to say, the Dutch Lion had ruined the precious Ferrari Princess for good and left her craving his thick creampies. The sight of you diligently taking your pill every morning as he watched you from his bed, early Monaco sunshine filling it as your scandalous affair continued well after the season, regularly filled Max with annoyance.

But the dark look on his face always disappears by the time you’re crawling back into his strong arms and nuzzling your face into his neck.

Maybe one of these days he’d have to replace your little pills with some of his own again to keep you off the grid and in his bed…permanently. You’d look so pretty knocked up with a Verstappen brat, after all.

—————————————————————————

A/N: I can never resist an enemies with sexual tension with max he’s just so coded for that. Thank you all for the amazing requests I am buzzing with ideas, lmk what you think of this!! 🫶

[mariahcarreyyy]

.ೃ࿐𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒𝐍’𝐓 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 | 𝐦𝐯𝟑𝟑 |

max verstappen x fem!reader

plot. when max visits years after your split, the strong facade you've worn crumbles at his fingertips

wc. 3.4k

warnings. smut 18+, angry n rough sex, p in v, degradation kink, reader cheats on her longterm boyfriend lol, oral sex (f!recieving), rough fingering (f!recieving), dry humping, name-calling, doggy + missionary style, dom!max and reader who thinks shes a dom, hairpulling, slight choking, and very angsty in some parts

Two seconds.

The amount of time it takes Max to grasp your door handle and trudge into the dimly lit apartment instead of patiently allowing you to let him in is two seconds. A fitted black suit adorns his body. His body, who glides assuredly into your humble kitchen. His eyes, who choose to ignore your irritated frame.

Then his lips. His big, red lips, who swallow the copious amount of popcorn that his hands were shovelling down his throat. His massive, veiny hands who used to intertwine perfectly in yours.

Him, Max. The figure leaning over your marble counters with slouched shoulders and forearms resting against the cool surface is Max. Two cups, he notices, stand side by side on the sink. A pink Stanley cup and a cheap protein shaker that isn't his.

Max’s fingers twitch.

From where you’re frozen by the door frame, only his side profile is visible. You curl your fists tight. Suddenly, wearing an oversized Metallica t-shirt and panties didn’t seem so comfortable.

“Max.”

Your eye twitches at the acknowledgement you receive. Or lack thereof. The recently crowned third-time world champion huffs at the bowl of popcorn in his hands before turning to open the fridge. He doesn’t look very satisfied. But then again, he never really was when it came to you, was he? 

The light of the furniture illuminates Max’s face rather annoyedly, contouring his sharp jawline and the curve of his lips like it had a point to prove. This is what you could’ve had, it taunted, if you hadn’t broken up.

Much louder and more irritated than before, you call out for him. And then, your eyes meet. You had spent the last few years meeting his gaze solely through the rectangular box in your living room; now, you pinch yourself in disbelief—anger, as well.

“What,” you stutter, and almost curse yourself when you catch a glimpse of his cocky smirk you remember all too well. “What are you doing here, Max?”

The fridge begins beeping loudly. Rolling his eyes, the Dutch slams it closed, slipping past you and into the living room. You follow him. The room is lit up by what feels like a thousand scented candles and it’s cold despite it.

The blond collapses on top of your couch, and the cushions pull him in like they missed him. It’s been so long, they think, and you feel better than the girl who’d been crying on us when you left.

“Where’s that guy?” Max asks bitterly, eyes stubborn on the television before him. “The one you posted yesterday at that restaurant.”

Max doesn’t follow you on any social media anymore, and an evil part of you feels content with the fact that he’d had to manually search your name to see that photo. Last night, Scotty had made a reservation at a fine, respectable Italian place to commemorate your one-year anniversary. 

You had a good time; Scotty would quip about everything and anything, and you would laugh exaggeratedly. You two were a great pairing, you think— hope, for the sake of your sanity.

You make yourself home in the space next to him, pulling your knees to your chest and tugging at your shirt to cover your bare legs. “You need to leave. Now, Max.”

A quiet ‘hm’ slips past his lips. But he’s still stuck on the couch, toeing out of his dress shoes and crossing his legs together like it was his home—but, it isn’t. Not anymore. Not while you are evidently a meaningless speck in his glorious life.

When Max turns to you, disgustingly pretty blue eyes and all, you succumb to the tight grasp he has on all of your logic. “Business trip. Milan.”

An empty chuckle raises the tiny hairs on your arm and echoes across the room. Max clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth; his eyes refuse to leave yours. He brings a cold hand to tuck a fallen strand of hair behind your ear; his fingertips leave burn marks against your cheek.

“You don’t even like Italian food,” he continues, because does he ever really know how to stop? “Does he even know you?”

And that. It shouldn’t have made you as frustrated as it did, not when you had gotten over Max. Totally. Completely. Utterly. “What, like you did? Max, you wouldn’t even give a fuck to remember our anniversary!”

The sarcastic glint in his eyes turns sour. “I had to race—Fuck! y/n, I was leading the championship, you knew that.”

“Yeah, Max, how could I forget? Red bull this, Red bull fucking that,” you seethe through gritted teeth, face inching closer to him and squinting eyes shining predatorily. “It’s been two years, Max, two years since you broke up with me. So, congrats. You got what you wanted—a trophy and a name under your belt. Why don’t you fucking leave me alone?”

Max’s breath hitches, but your uncontrolled panting inhales enough air for the both of you. Then, his hand wraps around the side of your neck, not squeezing, but it’s there. It’s warm, and it feels painfully refreshing against your skin, and your protests die in your throat.

The Dutch whispers an octave lower, and only then, when his minty breath tickles your cheekbones, do you perceive your proximity, “Because I think if you really wanted me gone, I would be by now.”

And, well. He might as well be ripping open your ribcage and twisting your heart until it breaks in half, crimson blood making a mess of the carpeted floor. 

You’re left speechless under his gaze because as much as you try to deny, you know it’s true. Max would leave as fast as he did two years ago if there was even a hint of honesty in your words.

“And you know what else I think?” Max takes your silence as encouragement to continue. “I think he doesn’t fuck you well enough if you’re this desperate for it.”

Somehow, you muster up enough irritation to murmur, “I—m’not desperate.”

“No?” he taunts, extending his thumb to the underside of your chin and tilting it upward. “Why haven’t you properly kicked me out, then?”

You rack your mind for a response, a reaction—fucking anything to prove you aren’t wishing he’d just inch a bit closer to close the gap between you. 

“I . . . I hate you, Jesus Christ,” you curse defeatedly, craning your neck upward and frantically meeting his stupidly large lips.

The kiss isn’t slow or loving; it’s wet and filthy and you wouldn’t have it any other way. There’s a lingering taste of honey on his tongue when he brushes it between your parted lips, and you can’t help but pull him in deeper for more. 

The hand on your neck tightens significantly, Max’s breath tickling your upper lip as the other seizes around your under thigh and swiftly pulls you onto his lap.

A gasp flows out of your mouth and he greedily swallows it. You want to skin him alive when you feel him grin arrogantly, but then he presses a hand on your ass and lowers you flush against him—Him, and the massive bulge straining his black trousers—and the thoughts spill right out of your head into a gooey puddle beside your feet.

“I hate y— oh,” your murmur morphs into a shaky gasp when he rips his lips away from yours and attacks the canvas of your neck; you say those three words like you could them words into existence. 

And I hate that I still want you so fucking bad; those eleven words are left unsaid like you expect him to read your mind. But Max couldn’t two years ago, and you know he can’t now.

Your hands glide over his muscular frame, relearning the sharp edges and smooth skin of his body and you moan breathily when Max sucks on the sweet spot beneath your ear. “Y’might hate me, baby, but your pussy doesn’t. Fuck, she’s dripping all ov’me.”

A pathetic whimper slips past your lips. He’s not wrong— you could feel your slick coating your panties and rubbing against Max’s pants. You were usually one to stand your ground, but fuck, you need him. Need him the same you did the first time you met, both young and inexperienced. Maybe more.

Probably more.

But he isn’t doing anything to relieve the ache between your thighs, so. Before you take matters into your own hands and grind your pussy against his covered dick, Max’s hands cup the mounds of your ass and lift you sideways to splay your body on the couch.

“Max,” you say like the breaths have been knocked out of your poor lungs, but it might not be so far from the truth.

Max positions himself in between your legs, hips and thick thighs parting them wide, and the itchy fabric against your naked skin spins your head in dizzying circles. You could fucking see the damp patch your slick left on his crotch. Your hips buck into the air; you hate him, you hate him, you hate him.

His dishevelled hair lay atop his head and you want to pull. His flush trails down his neck and you want to bite and kiss and mark it till pretty bruises litter his soft skin. Your hands and lips stay pliant under his body instead.

“Y’d only get this wet f’me, though, hm?” he groans when his fingers push your skimpy underwear to the side, unblinking like the sight of your glistening folds would disappear if he looked away.

I’m always like this for you, you feel the need to reassure, even when you aren’t here—especially when you aren’t here. But your blood still boils at his stupid hair and stupid smirk, so. He’s met with silence.

Growing impatient, Max slaps at your swollen clit, humming satisfactorily at the loud gasp you let out. He grazes his digits past the bundle of nerves, and your incessant need to murder him and fuck him till he realized he’d made a mistake letting you go only intensify.

“Answer me or I swear to fucking God I will leave you like this, shatje,” he ends up growling lowly, thick fingers hovering over your hole. “And then it’s your boyfriend’s problem.”

“Max, fuck off–”

The warm body abruptly stands up, and you don’t think you’ve ever been this cold. But the empty sensation doesn’t last long, anyway. Max barely has any time to walk away before your fingers latch onto his forearm tightly.

You splutter, “M-Max wait, wait.”

When he tilts his head down to meet your eyes with a raised brow, you have no recollection of what you'd even wanted to say. 

“Please…please, just fucking help me.”

And apparently, that's all Max needs because his hands are immediately tugging your shirt off, lips trailing hot kisses in the divot of your tits. Your lips part around a moan when he purses his lips around your hard nipple, stomach stirring uncomfortably with need. His mouth leaves marks like cigarette burns in its wake; it stings against the wounds that have already healed years ago.

The Dutch doesn’t leave you much to dwell on before he lays between your thighs again, trails his hand across your body till his fingers nudge at your lips, and shoves his index and middle finger inside the wetness of your mouth. if you were slightly more desperate, you would've whimpered at the pleasent pressure on your tongue.

If.

“Fuck, lieverd,” Max exhales when you suck your cheeks in, wet muscle darting over and between his digits— wide, innocent eyes and all. “Can he get you like this? Fucking dripping and desperate for dick?”

You shake your head frantically because it’s true. Because he couldn’t, not like Max can. Satisfied, Max only presses against your throat slightly to watch you gag around him. He brings his hand back down to the space between your legs agonizingly slow and alas, pushes them both in like he’s in a rush.

“Max! Oh, oh m’God, fuck,” you gasp, the twinge of pain is quickly overshadowed by the hot pleasure bubbling in your lower stomach.

Your hips involountarily buck upwards into the fullness, but Max flattens his palm on your lower stomach to shove you down. Eyes rolling back and threading your fingers through his hair before tugging his insatiable mouth on your pussy.

“He doesn’t,” Max cuts himself off with a groan when his tongue flicks at your clit, familiar tasting slick pooling on his taste buds. “He doesn’t know you like I do, can’t make you cum as hard as I do, can he?”

He doesn’t expect a response; it isn’t even a question, as well as you’re aware. Max knows he’s the only person who can have you writhing and moaning on his fingers, cock, tongue— all three, one night.

And he’s right. But. Max’s control of the situation makes you feel queasy, so.

“No– ohh, fuckfuckfuck,” you moan, high and needy, when Max curls his fingers upwards, like a reward for agreeing with him. “He–, he fucks me better.”

From under you, Max’s face visibly dims, but you aren’t able to bask in the satisfaction it gives you before he drags his thick digits out of you—your hole clenching in protest, crying out at the emptiness when it fails to keep them inside—hooks his hands into the small of your waist, and your ass meets the hardwood floor.

“What the fuck–”

Your breath hitches when he flips you over on your elbows and knees. Back arched almost uncomfortably, furrowed brows with Max’s bruising hands on your hips to lift your ass further in the air. 

When Scotty slips into bed tomorrow morning, you hope he’ll see the ugly hues of blue and green on your tainted body and leave soundlessly.

Shaking your head at the intrusive thought, you curse internally. Scotty’s nice, and you don’t deserve him. Not when you’re willingly presenting yourself to Max, the folds of your pussy connected by the lewd lines of his spit and your slick.

"Y’wanna act like a whore?" Max whispers hotly from behind you– his breath tickles your ear and his hands rise to your hair, gather your locks into a makeshift ponytail, and tug it forcefully to tilt your head back, making you wince. "I'll fucking treat you like one."

A string of your desperate whines fills Max’s ears like a symphony, and he groans with you when you begin to grind your ass backwards against his dick. His dick. Fuck, Max needs it wrapped around your tight walls, milking him for all he has; needs to watch you writhe on his cock like it was what you were made for.

“I hate you,” you repeat, much more breathless than the other times you said it, and Max has the audacity to laugh.

Though, you guess it has more to do with the fact that all the while you were saying those three words, you were still needily humping your ass against his covered dick.

You still are, and it’s driving him fucking insane. Max curses when he realizes he’s still trapped by the confines of his pants. Whoever thought wearing clothes was a good idea?

Clumsily and with only one hand whilst the other grips your hair, he fumbles out of his suit. And Max throws the articles of clothing mindlessly—on the couch, on the floor. He doesn’t know, and he doesn’t fucking care. 

A relieved sigh fills the room as the cool air wraps around his painfully hard cock. Your breath hitches when you feel the thick tip graze your pussy. His hand hastily grips at his base, aligns it to your folds, and coating it in your slick as he strokes it once, twice.

“Ah! Max, holy shit,” you blabber when his cock nudges against your swollen clit, and finally, thrusts his hips forward, the tip fitting snugly against your walls. “Oh, oh, fuck, moremoremore, please.”

And Max. Well, Max is doomed.

“Fuck, liefje, your pussy missed me so fucking bad, I know, I know,” Max coos when your hole clenches around him greedily, and spreads your cheeks with one hand, gazing obscenely at the sight of you sucking more and more of him inside.

The familiar stretch burns and yet your hips push back against his cock— three words ringing in your otherwise empty mind: full, full, fuller. Max’s hips stutter as he meets your movements halfway, fucking his stupidly massive cock into your wetness and tightening his hold on your hair.

You wish you could say you hate the pain as much as you hate him.

“Max, Max, Max,” you urge him as your eyes roll to the back of your head, but you don’t really know what for; your neediness took over your senses the moment Max kissed you.

But Max, he’d already memorized all of it— all your tells, those things that pushed you over the edge—, protected them inside a dust-covered chest buried in his mind. It was no surprise he knew what to do with you now, filling you to the brim and pounding into you ruthlessly.

“Yes! Yes! Mm fuck, please, don’t stop, don’t stop,” you sob happily, and Max wouldn’t fucking dare.

The man behind you tugs you upright with the hand on your hair, his chest flush heatedly against your back and tilting your head to pounce at your neck.

“Tell me,” Max growls slowly, slowing his assaults on your wet pussy, and now, you’re almost sure that your hate is reciprocated. “Tell me he means nothing to you.”

A loud yelp leaves your lips when he slaps your clit again, and a slight gush of slick slides down your walls, dripping lewdly onto his balls. Your hand reaches up to grip his hair and pulls his pillowy lips back onto your neck; tears brim at your waterline. You aren’t sure if it’s because of how badly you want to cum or miss him— you blink.

No, no, no. That wouldn’t be possible because. Because you don’t miss him.

“He’s nothing, Max, nothing compares to you,” you cry out, and Max falters.

Then, he pulls out.

“Huh? Wha…” You inhale sharply, feeling so stupidly empty.

Before you dig a hole for you and your pussy to crawl in and die, Max is swiftly turning you over by your hips and engulfing his dick in your walls again. Your mouth falls open again; Max takes it as an opportunity to press his lips against yours.

Your hands cradle his face and kiss him back gently like he isn’t fucking the life out of you. Like he isn’t projecting his pent up frustration for the last two years onto your wet, tight pussy. A muffled cry escapes your mouth when Max thrusts into you with newfound fervor.

His lips detach from yours, burrying his forehead into the crook of your neck to, hopefully, muffle his groans. “Max– ah! Oh m’God, I’m so close, please just.”

Max nods, wild and frantic and horny, slipping a hand between your sweaty bodies. He tweaks, pinches, and rubs at your clit until you let out a shriek and your thighs close instinctively around him.

He bottoms out, grinding helplessly inside the heat of your pussy. “Cum f’me, shatje, wanna feel you cum on m’cock. Fucking cum.”

And, well, if you were even the slightest bit good at denying Max, you wouldn’t even be in this position. So. You arch your back off the ground with a high, loud moan and savour the white specs in your vision that only Max seems to bring out of you.

He fucks you through your orgasm—chasing his own with short, wild thrusts. “Ah, fuckkk, if only y’were as good as y’pussy is to me, liefje, y’d be getting m’cock like this every fucking night— Fuck!”

Beads of Max’s thick cum fill you to the brim with a loud groan and a long string of curses, tainting your insides a heavenly white. His hips stutter when you clench around him, milking him for all he has just like he’d wanted. And, when Max pulls out with a shaky gasp, he takes another piece of your heart with him.

Maybe, if you make this same mistake enough, he’d realize he has your heart already, full and pieced together.

But Max was never one to take a hint, never one to read your mind, so you settle for the parts of him you can have once in a blue moon; you settle for him picking you up, carrying you to your bedroom, cleaning the mess between your legs, and pulling the covers above your naked frame; you settle for the scowl on his face when he notices the polaroid of you and Scotty on your bedside table.

“I hate y—”

Max leaves the room before you can finish your sentence. 

He knows.

authors notes dedicating this to @enchantecafe + @scuderiahoney bcs they were hor knee for max on this poll (me too) i hope you guys like it and thank you to @cafekitsune for the dividers once again xx

i feel like this isn't my best work but i'll post it anyway because i spent a lot of time on it and yolo. also i think i fried my brain with it.

also, writing this fic made me realize idfk how to write angry sex it just ends up being angsty so. i think at times theyre angry but as they go on, some of that tension dissipitates and they both realize they want but cant have each other. tried my best tho!! xx

lemme know how you liked this story or give me some feedback in the comments or my inbox! 💬🐢

taglist in separate posts bcs tumblr chooses to be annoying <33

p.s reblogs and likes are always appreciated 💚💚

[multifandomgirl08]

Mini Verstappen

Dad!Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader

Summary: You get a small surprise the first time you visit Max's apartment

Warning(s): Slight angst (if you squint), child from a past relationship (Max), reader coming to terms with her feelings (on screen), ambiguous ending

A/N: I may add more to this in the future. Right now it's just a stand-alone.

Words: 1.3k

Previous Part → Next Part Mini Verstappen Masterlist

From the moment you met Max, you knew that he was complicated. From his busy schedule, to the people he surrounded himself with when it came to his job. You knew it would be hard to keep up with a guy like him. But you had gotten the greatest shock of your life when you had showed up at Max’s Monaco apartment.

Max knew that you were going to be visiting him, he was the one who invited you to stay with him. And given that you had been doing long distance for about 8 months it only recently seemed like things were turning serious. Max had been very secretive about his apartment, he never invited you over when you had initially met him, and given that you were doing long distance, you only got to talk to him in the morning your time.

You had knocked on his door before he opened it to see him holding a toddler. Your hand dropped from your luggage. This was the last thing you were expecting. “Hey.” He muttered.

“Hi.” You said back. It was all you really could say looking at the child sleeping on Max’s shoulder.

“You should come inside.” He pushed the door open with his free hand. You could hear the light curse in Dutch that he let out under his breath.

As you made your way into Max’s penthouse, you started to internally connect all of the dots. This was why he normally answered you only at night, this was why all of his social media accounts only had work-related things posted on them aside from the few sporadic pictures of his family.

You set your bags by the door, turning to Max to see him place the child on the couch before covering him with a blanket with little F1 cars making up the pattern.

“I normally don’t do this,” He said, his accent coming through.

You furrowed your brows together in question. “Do what?”

Max looked at the couch as if he was pointing to the child. “I don’t normally introduce people that I don’t work with to my son.”

You honestly just felt awkward standing there. You had only really been on a number of dates with Max that weren’t phone calls. You traveled often enough for work that you got to see each other a few days every month or so, but it seemed like things were going rather well between you, you hadn’t expected this however.

“Normally, the women that I start to see don’t last more than 3 or 4 months, then they start to expect things. Getting invited to races and being invited to my apartment.” He offered up. That was maybe one of the reasons why you were here, you never pressured Max into inviting you over. You never asked him for more than he was willing to give.

Max moved to sit on the couch brushing his hair to one side like he couldn’t help but fumble with something given how strange this whole thing was for both of you.

“I’ve never gotten this far with someone since I’ve had him in my life.” It made sense why. He didn’t want someone around his son only for them to leave soon after, not a lot of people could handle taking care of a child as well as being in a relationship with their parent so early on.

“How long have you had him?” You asked wondering how long Max had been a part of his son's life.

“Almost 2 years. My last long-term girlfriend ended up pregnant. At first, she was going to keep him. She gave him up at the last second. She contacted my agent since we ended things not long before she found out.” He seemed to be answering in short sentences, almost as if he was afraid that his English couldn’t keep up with him.

Max was giving you a lot of information, probably because the only people he really got to talk to about this were the guys on the grid - guys who although they were around Max’s age didn’t have a child to take care of by themselves.

You couldn’t help but walk closer, almost dragging your feet but didn’t want to wake the little boy up by doing so. He looked like Max, like he was his little copy, down to the wide smile and the slight quiver in his brow as he slept. You couldn’t help but lightly smile seeing the little boy fist the blanket in his small grip.

You moved to sit next to him waiting to see if he’d say anything else. He didn’t, he just stroked the little boy’s hair away from his forehead. You looked to Max to see his blue eyes turn stormy like he was waiting for you to leave him alone with his son.

Was he waiting for you to run?

“I’m not leaving Max.” You said.

Any other person may have run, but Max having a son from a previous relationship although a little like a wake-up call didn’t make you want to run. It just made you more aware of how serious this would be. It wouldn’t just be the two of you, there was also someone else to consider.

You saw him drop his head into his hands, seeing his shoulders shake as you heard the unmistakable sounds of him sobbing. You hadn’t seen Max cry before. He was just one of those people who knew how to keep his emotions in check. It probably had to do with all the time he spent in front of reporters. He only really let go when it was the two of you, he was all smiles. His eyes would squint when he smiled wide at you, you loved looking at him when he smiled at you over candlelight. His shoulders were relaxed, and he couldn’t stop smiling at you. That was how you knew that he was really happy.

Max didn’t look like that now, his back was stiff. He was hunched over in a way that could possibly hurt his back if he kept it up. This just showed you how uncomfortable he was in the situation.

“You’re the only one who’s stayed long enough to meet him.” He sputtered out.

Hearing that just made your stomach turn uncomfortably.

You laid your head against his shoulder wanting to say something to comfort him, but thought it would be better just to stay there with him.

“He looks like you.” You muttered.

You could feel Max’s shoulders shake again, not sure if he was still crying.

“Victoria said the same thing the first time she saw him.” He said clearly. 

You had only met Max’s sister a few times before. She seemed to like you from the conversations that you had.

“I understand why you waited to tell me about him.” You would like to find out his name, instead of referring to him as Max’s son.

“I didn’t want to drop it on you, I just didn’t know how…” Max’s eyes shifted once again to the sleeping boy.

“Well, I am a little bit shocked, and this wasn’t what I was expecting when you invited me to come spend the week with you but I’m up for it,” Max telling you he had a son wasn’t a part of your plans, however, given that you had almost been together a year. It felt nice that he was finally letting you into his world a little more.

He looked up at you, and you could see that he was shocked. His face was completely slacked, his plump lips open. His eyes were still red from crying but could see that they were getting clearer.

“His name’s Nico,” Max offered up.

You felt really tempted to reach over and move Nico’s hair from his eyes but instead just dropped your hand to Max’s lap and whispered against his cheek, “It suits him. Nico Verstappen.”

He looked at you like he wanted to tell you something, instead he just reached for your hand. Clasping them together in his grip he said, "Thank you, for not leaving."

[ruyakasunshine]

My humble suggestions to make F1 more interesting

In the light of the recent rumors about the FIA trying to manipulate the races in order to get more ratings, here are my totally awesome suggestions to make the races more interesting for the viewers.

obligatory disclaimer : those are jokes.

1. Add the Mario Kart blue shell

With the blue shell, you wouldn't have to worry about a race being uninteresting because one of teams has built a rocketship! Now you might be wondering how that would be doable, because how do you get an actual blue shell to only hit one driver? To that I answer, "sweetheart, give me your hand, and let me enlighten you with this name : Kevin Magnussen". Our dear K-mag won't be on the grid next year, and since we'll all miss him dearly, I think we should give him a blue kart and tell him to take out the race leader. He would be released once during the race, in a very random moment (that would be decided through 'google, give me a random number between 1 and 67') and the moment he is out a loud radio voice should announce "WE HAVE UNLEASHED THE MAGNUSSEN" in order to stress everyone out.

2. Add Horns

I know I'm not the only who has thought of this, because the CarCar beef would have been so much funnier if Oscar was allowed to just hit the horn at Carlos. Or the other way around, considering Carlos is a Mediterranean.

I believe that the one who'd abuse this the most would be Fernando, who, if he were to be passed by another driver, would push the button hard enough to spook them and gain his position back. We'd get him to win a race again with this, think about it!

Also, as an exception, Yuki's horn should be customed so that when it is pushed, it doesn't make a "beep" but a loud "FUCK" sound. He should be the only one allowed to do this.

3. Let them hear each other

I think they should just be all allowed to communicate together during the race, the way they do it with their engineers.

Now do I think it's doable? Probably not. Do I think that would be productive? Absolutely not. Do I believe the FIA would decide to remove this option 3 laps into a race? Totally.

But the entertainment value would be so high, because I refuse to believe anyone who says they wouldn't want to hear the Checo-Liam beef in live. Also, I think Carlos should have heard Oscar say "typical Carlos" as he said it. Now that would be fun.

No more team orders, if a driver wants to swap position with his teammate, he has to convince him with everyone being able to hear them.

I also believe that Charles and Max should be given this option anyway, since Max has decided to talk to Charles alone in his own car.

4. Settle the penalties through fistfights

I've seen people talk about how it is problematic to have different stewards at every race, because it makes the decisions taken incoherent. George believes permanent stewards would solve the issue. I believe that when two drivers collide, they should be allowed to fistfight in front of the arena, and the loser gets the penalty. That would especially funny in Vegas, with Bruce Buffer as the commentator.

Also, an exception would be made for one specific situation: if Lewis and Fernando collide, they have to hug, and the first one to let go looses and gets the penalty.

5. The team who gets tenth position in the constructors should get sold to One Direction

I have no arguments other than the fact that the team could use the money anyway, since they won't get much from the constructors.

6. Make the read fanfics for each penalty point they get

Remember this post where I suggested that Haas should have made read K-mag self-insert fanfics for every point he gets on his licence? Well I've changed my mind, I think every driver should have the chance to do it, in public, if they want to get out of a penalty. The higher the penalty is, the cringier the fic gets.

7. Find a solution to the lestappen followgate

Everyone and their mothers has been asking for one thing and one thing only : a Lestappen title fight. I think Charles could use some motiviation, so here is my humble suggestion : tell him that if he wins, Max has to follow him on Instagram. If he loses, it's the other way around. Believe me, this diva couldn't take it and would tranform whatever atrocity-car Ferrari gives him into a rocket. He's done it before for the sake of winning, believe me he'll do it again to get Max to follow him.

Thank me later.

[tin-wufborf]

Tin's Favorite Sterek Fics (Part 1)

Okay, so listen. A few months back, I mentioned the possibility of me doing a rec list of all the Sterek fics I like to re-read (basically my comfort library), right? Well, it turns out that what I thought was going to be a list of, like, 50 fics max is now, far, far, far, FAR longer than that to the point that I don't actually even have a number to provide due to the fact that I still finding more and more to add to the list. I really hate the idea putting them all in a single post--as someone who primarily engages with this site via it's mobile app, I personally find super long lists harder to navigate, especially when you lose your place and have to start from the top--soooo, I have decided to instead release my recommendations in a series of posts containing 15-20 fics/series each instead of dumping the whole library on you at once. This post marks the first of (almost certainly) many, so I hope you all enjoy!

List and links to next parts below the cut.

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DISCLAIMER: This is me warning you all that some of the fics I've included in this list may cover explicit, dark, and/or "taboo" subject matters. I cannot express enough how little I care what anyone thinks about any of that; all I want is for you to use caution when reading anything I've listed here and to please review and heed whatever tags the authors have provided in order to keep yourselves safe. Your experience from this point on is your own responsibility, not mine and not the authors'.

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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19

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The Boy Who Loved Wolves by orphan_account (NR | 1/1 | 1,522)

Stiles always loved the tamed wolves his tribe used for hunting. When he finds himself face-to-face with an actual wolf, an alpha no less, how will it change him? And how will his tribe react to his change? Based on Paul Goble's The Girl Who Loved Wild Horses.

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Will of the Weakness by Cheshyr (G | 1/1 | 2,248)

Whenever Derek threw Stiles into walls, he always assumed that the teenager didn't fight because he couldn't. Not once did he consider the possibility that Stiles was holding back.

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Making a Memory by beenwandering (M | 1/1 | 2,702)

Stiles was prepared for what would come after the bite. He knew what to expect and, despite his worries, he was ready for his new life. Apparently very ready. Or, “that one where Stiles can’t be anything other than Stiles, even when he’s a wolf."

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A Cottage in the Woods by FaeryQueen07 (G | 1/1 | 2,960)

“There’s a cottage,” Stiles’ mother says, and then she presses a kiss to his forehead before turning off the light.

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Tell Me, Are My Words Worth Less? by Cheshyr (G | 1/1 | 3,830)

Stiles is proud of his words. He loves to talk and tell and share and speak. And he absolutely, deep in his soul, hates his stutter.

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Little Lion Man by lyllytas (T | 1/1 | 5,029)

Sheriff Stilinski has just been fired from his job and is at a loss for his son's recent behavior. All he wants is the truth, so when Stiles comes to him with another crazy story, he's had enough of the jokes and lies. Unfortunately for him, this time Stiles was telling the truth. And Derek Hale is very protective of his pack.

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Love in the Groves series by Sheepnamedpig (3 works | T-E | 5,706)

1. The Oak Tree (E | 1/1 | 1,533) A forest spirit decides to take up residence in Derek's forest. 2. The Cherry Tree (E | 1/4 | 2,170) Derek and Stiles get married. And then they get married again. 3. The Ash Grove (T | 1/1 | 2,003) Stiles gets sick. Derek watches him carve the infection out.

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Knotting Expectations by chase_acow (E | 1/1 | 5,722)

Stiles gets an eyeful and suddenly getting up close and personal to a werewolf is all he can think about.

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go home, or make a home by lady_ragnell (T | 1/1 | 7,437)

In a world where Derek lets Scott kill the Alpha and get the cure, he has to figure out how to rebuild his life, with help from Stiles.

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Communication (And the Lack Thereof) by ProofOfConcept, wilddragonflying (M | 1/1 | 7,687)

Sheriff Stilinski has been waiting for this day for a long time. As he watches his visitor walking up the path, he thinks about everything that's happened in the past year and his fingers twitch for his gun. But he can't do that; he can't shoot this man, as much as he might like to sometimes. Maybe he can go one worse, though.

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Integral to Survival by placeholdr (M | 1/1 | 8,529)

Derek is in the cell for about ten minutes before the lone door opens and a new body is tossed in. The person hits the floor with a grunt, rolls, and stands as the door is clanging shut.

“That’s really not the way to treat a guest!”

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Ten Weeks by scarletsptember (T | 1/1 | 10,024)

They say no news is good news at a doctor's office. The news Stiles gets changes everything.

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adore to see your eyes fly by 1001cranes (E | 1/1 | 11,309)

stiles is a pyromanic, derek is a sociopath. a match made in some kind of heaven. teen wolf kink meme fill.

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Blood and Bonds by ProofOfConcept, wilddragonflying (NR | 1/1 | 20,595)

Stiles wants to lose his virginity, so Derek sets him up with a nice female werewolf at a pack mixer. Nine months later, the pack gets a rather stark reminder, and with it comes realizations, feeeeelings, and danger.

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Heat of the Moment by ProofOfConcept, wilddragonflying (T | 1/1 | 21,320)

I'm the alpha now.

Derek never wanted the alpha power. But now he could feel the alpha power thrumming through his veins, calling to him and the those it considered pack.

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The Wolfvengers (Are Not A '90s Boyband) series by someonelsesheart (2 works | T | 23,152)

1. Angry Birds Is Not Meant To Be Taken Literally (T | 3/3 | 12,917) Derek gets that he and Stiles are kind of on a Need To Know basis, he really does, he just thinks that Stiles' godfather being in the freaking Avengers counts as pretty Need To Know. 2. The Captain America Law (T | 3/3 | 10,235) For the record, Derek is not very fond of talking about feelings, up to and including discussing his personal life, anything that has to do with Stiles, That Time With The High Heels, and games that include having to convey feelings. On a completely unrelated note, who knew that Tony Stark owned a sexy nurse's costume?

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An Exercise in Trust by ProofOfConcept, wilddragonflying (M | 1/1 | 25,529)

Derek Hale hasn't been able to hold a steady job for quite some time, thanks to his past. When an ad is posted for a babysitting job, Derek(thanks to his experience with his large extended family) jumps at the chance to maybe start rebuilding his life.

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hyper heart alone by hito (E | 1/1 | 34,570)

When Stiles returns home to help his father recover from an injury, he discovers that things have changed somewhat in his absence: Derek is working closely with Stiles' father, around the house and underfoot, generally annoying and disconcerting Stiles with his presence.

Well, Stiles isn't sure you could call all the sex they end up having annoying, but he isn't really willing to call it anything else, either.

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By and By series by 1001cranes (3 works | T-E | 35,611)

1. hear his alibis (T | 1/1 | 6,628) creepy never looked so cute - or, how Sheriff Stiles accidentally adopted a juvenile offender. (another) pyromaniac au. 2. multiplied by seven (E | 9/9 | 26,340) Derek isn't exactly like other people. Stiles doesn't say that because he's in love with him, or whatever. He's not like Scott, who thinks Allison hung the freaking moon, or was the first girl to ever let a guy under her bra. Derek isn't like other people. Sometimes he's not exactly sane. psychopaths in love - the story from Derek & Stiles's side. companion fic to 'hear his alibis' 3. up to the highest high (E | 1/1 | 2,643) Kate takes a day to think it over, to plan her attack. She's good on her feet, but a little preplanning never hurt anyone. And if she's going to make Derek bleed, well - she needs just the right weapon. The right words. A thousand little pinpricks and cuts, because Derek isn't the type you can cut off at the knees so easily. You have to look for that dark, hidden place to plant a seed of doubt, and Kate? Kate's good at that. "He wants to be with a girl," she says. Like poisoned honey. "Or he doesn't not want it, am I right?" You think that curiosity won't get the better of him one day?" She's got her hands on him when she says it. She feels the beating of his heart, the firmness of his pectoral muscles, because, hey, this is precisely the way she swings. And Derek might keep it pretty well tucked up under his cap, but he doesn't exactly hate the female persuasion himself. Or at least he's attracted to them. Same difference in the end. "Better the devil you know," she says, and from the way Derek's gaze narrows she's got a feeling she's won.

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Blood in the Water, Fire in the Sky: A Love Story series by ahab2692 (7 works | E | 69,750)

1. God, How Things Change (E | 1/1 | 9,056) After killing Peter Hale, Derek and Stiles have to deal with the aftermath: Scott doesn't want to forgive Derek for taking away his chance for the cure, Jackson struggles with adjusting to his newfound powers, and Lydia remains in a coma. Derek has his own demons to wrestle, and the more time he spends with Stiles, the less sure he is that he'll be able to control himself.

2. The World Spins, Regardless (E | 1/1 | 11,006) Stiles helps Derek expand his pack, and the two of them take steps forward in their newfound relationship. Meanwhile, new enemies arrive in the form of a dangerous pack of werewolves from a nearby town, as well as a pair of mysterious hunters with an unknown agenda. (Sequel to "God, How Things Change.") 3. Cracks in the Foundations (E | 1/1 | 10,107) Preparing for the oncoming war with an aggressive werewolf clan, Derek and Stiles make efforts to secure their friends' safety. Derek put the pack through a rigorous training regimen, and Stiles convinces him to form a temporary alliance with the Argents. However, no one is able to foresee a shocking loss that has a devastating effect on the pack's stability. (Sequel to "The World Spins, Regardless.") 4. The Wicker Throne and the Werewolf King (E | 1/1 | 11,241) Stiles and Lydia travel to a distant mining outpost in the woods to try and kill the Alpha of the rival pack. Meanwhile, Derek and Chris Argent struggle to ensure the safety of the pack in the aftermath of Stiles' recent loss. (Sequel to "Cracks in the Foundations.") 5. Conversation (and Carnage) (E | 1/1 | 9,096) Stiles attempts to negotiate with the Alpha. Derek attempts to negotiate with Meredith Wakefield. Hidden agendas lie beneath the surface. Everything is not as it seems. (Sequel to "The Wicker Throne and the Werewolf King.") 6. ...And Hell Followed With Him (E | 1/1 | 10,080) Stiles emerges victorious as the new Alpha. Derek and Chris Argent launch their attack on Meredith Wakefield. Stiles and Lydia return home. (Sequel to "Conversation (and Carnage).") 7. God, How Things Change (Redux) (E | 1/1 | 9,164) Stiles and Derek pay a visit to their last remaining enemy. The pack recovers in the aftermath. Everything ends. Everything begins. (Sequel to "...And Hell Followed With Him".)

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[lost-in-fandoms]

hello, I hope you are doing well!

in light of the recent belly piercing post I was reminded of dick piercings and my brain melted a little. do you think Max or Daniel would have a piercing like that? and if so, what level of freak would they be about the other having it?

I think this could go either way.

Option 1: Max has the dick piercing. He got nipple piercings because he liked the idea of it and they made his nipples even more sensitive and he loves that, so he thought, why not make my dick better too?

He mentions it once to Daniel, maybe they're having a drink and somehow the topic comes up, and Max just. says it. as if he's not melting Daniel's brain.

Daniel bluescreens and can't stop thinking about it for a while and has a complete meltdown gay panic about it because why can't he stop thinking about Max's nipples and dick??? He concludes he's just curious and a few weeks later he asks Max if it hurt. Max is happy to explain everything, if it hurt, how the healing process was, how it feels now, when soft, when hard, when fucking. Daniel feels a bit insane and has to go lay down in a dark place for a while.

And then he keeps thinking about it and it's driving him crazy and Max sort of can tell (because let's be real, what if i tell you none of this was accidental and all that), so he asks Daniel if he'd like to see. And daniel wants to say no because it's weird to see his mate's dick, but also it's just curiosity right? so he says yes. and max just. strips.

he's half hard just from that and then he touches his nipples and says see daniel they're very sensitive here and here and daniel can see him getting harder. and then his brain fully switches off and he asks max if he can suck his dick.

i think it would take a few blowjob sessions (in which daniel almost comes just from sucking max's pierced dick) before they actually have a conversation about it but after they get together daniel doesn't get any less insane about it

Option 2: Daniel has the dick piercing. He got it because he lost a bet, and it was sort of a joke, made when drunk, but he was not going to back out was he? and he does like the feeling and look of it, it's sort of cool.

I think either it comes up again as a random drunken conversation or Max walks into him changing because he knocked but daniel hadn't locked the door and max didn't wait for daniel to tell him to come in. and daniel rushes to cover up (what the fuck max?! you couldn't wait 5 seconds? what is it?) but max got a glimpse of it.

and he won't let go, dog with the bone. he keeps asking daniel if he has a piercing, when did he get it, how does it feel, can max see it? can max see it? can max see it?

finally daniel relents and says okay even if it's weird as fuck that max is so obsessed with it (no he is not hard thank you very much) and invites him to his room. and then max arrives and he looks happy and excited and eager and it's flattering really, that's the only reason why daniel feels this fluttering feeling in his stomach.

daniel feels a bit awkward and pulls his dick just barely out enough for max to see. max comes close close close and he has his lips a little bit open and listen, it's not daniel's fault he's getting hard, he's just human.

max asks to touch, and daniel barely has time to nod that max is touching. he's not even properly jerking daniel off, he's just touching the piercing and around it and tugging it lightly, but daniel moans. and max smiles.

can i make you come, daniel?

and daniel nods again, feeling like none of this is really happening and it's all just a really hot and weird dream, but then max makes him come and daniel doesn't wake up.

max doesn't ask for him to do anything, thanks him for letting him see and leaves.

a few days later daniel asks if max wants to see his piercing again, he is thinking of getting a new one (he isn't).

max says yes so fast.

max asks how does it feel when you're fucking someone and daniel says uh and max says you should fuck me.

and daniel does.

and then max keeps coming over to ask how does it feel when someone is blowing you? how does it feel when you come like this? how does it feel when you're kissing? until they become sillier and sillier questions like how does it feel when someone sleeps in your bed with you? how does it feel when you're eating breakfast?

when daniel figures out that max is just dating him by dick piercing questions he is very embarrassed at not noticing sooner but not unhappy with the result. max obviously is very proud of himself. as a prize, he gets to play with daniel's piercing until daniel comes

[moviecritc]

Hi, so I've recently watched the Thanksgiving movie with Patrick Dempsey and it was sooo good. So I wanted to ask if you could please write something about Charles dating actress!reader who stars in a horror movie but even tho he is not a big fan of horror movies he agrees to watch it for her because he wants to be the best boyfriend so could you please write it with a mix of smau with nell verlaque as face claims 🫶🏻

supportive boyfriend ⋆ charles leclerc

pairing: charles leclerc x actress!reader

word count: 601

warnings: mixed smau and writing

a/n: i, too, am not a huge fan of horror movies (i hate them actually), also this was quite short but i hope you like it <3

masterlist | wattpad | letterboxd

yourusername just posted!

liked by addisonrae, charlesleclerc and 34,120 others

yourusername some pics from the set 😚😚

view all comments

user1 the bond they all have >>>>

addisonrae ❤️👻

user2 i love her so so much

user3 omg i watched the movie and it was amazing!!

user4 y/n the new scream queen frr

user5 wait tf is charles leclerc doing in her likes

user6 girl they're dating u didn't know? she went to promote one her movies to the miami gp last year, they met, become really good friends and they started dating. it was like a rom com truly user5 that's so cute

user7 anyone expecting charles reaction for this new movie? we all know how fearful he is

user8 yess he's probably biting his nails trying to come up with ideas to not see it

And he was.

He was more than proud of his girlfriend and loved seeing her on screen. He always watched her latest movies on the plane when she wasn’t around. But this was the first horror movie she’d made, and the idea of watching it terrified him. He had always struggled with that genre; his two brothers loved horror movies and insisted on watching them when they were kids, which led to Charles having countless sleepless nights.

He had tried to convince Max or Arthur to watch it before him and tell him if it was too scary, but neither of them had time. He searched for summaries on YouTube, but it was still too early for people to have summarized it.

The only thing left was to mentally prepare himself. Be very aware that it was all fiction and that nothing would come after him once the movie ended.

He arrived at his girlfriend’s apartment, greeting her with a kiss and a box of her favorite sweets along with a rose.

“Aw, thanks, Charlie,” she hugged him and gave him a longer kiss. “Come on, I’ve got everything ready to watch it.”

Y/N was truly excited, and it showed on her face. She was very proud of this project and eager to show it to her biggest supporter at last. Charles knew this and had done everything possible to stay calm. But then he saw the setup: Y/N had turned down all the lights, leaving only a few candles lit, and the movie was already on the TV. The poster showed her covered in blood with a terrified expression.

“Are you ready?” Y/N said, sitting on the couch. Charles followed suit, and she snuggled up against his chest.

“Of course,” he said immediately. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Y/N looked at him with a little smile and kissed his cheek before pressing play. The first fifteen minutes were fine; they were introducing the plot and the characters. But then the tone of the movie started to darken, and Charles shifted nervously in his seat. Y/N noticed and intertwined her hand with Charles’, placing it on her chest.

Y/N realized how Charles flinched several times during the next few minutes, so she sat up and paused the movie.

“What’s wrong?” Charles asked instantly, completely confused though secretly relieved to have a moment to rest.

“Charles, you know I won’t be mad if you’re scared to watch the movie, right?” Y/N spoke with a sweet smile.

Charles pressed his lips together and looked down, just enough for Y/N to widen her smile and kiss him, cupping his cheeks with her hands. “I’m not scared,” he said in the middle of the kiss. Y/N raised her eyebrows, said nothing, and exited the movie. “But don’t turn it off, I want to watch it, I swear!”

“Char…”

“No, let’s watch it, mon amour,” Charles insisted, taking control of the remote.

yourusername just posted a story!

[caption: guess who haven't slept a shit bc her bf is scared of his own hair]

replies

charlesleclerc IT WAS DARK AND I FELT SOMETHING IN MY FACE I WAS SCARED

[thearchercore]

how rbr socials are trying to control the public narrative around charles (a short essay)

as you may have noticed, rbr socials started posting charles in an oddly increasing pace recently. and there may be more behind it!

you could notice the first big feature of charles in singapore, when they included a video of max and charles with a lestappen sound on an ig reel (carlos was also in that video but not mentioned in the post). then, a few weeks later during the triple header we got max doing the inchident challenge on tiktok. max is known for not enjoying tiktok trends so his input on their tiktok is mostly trivia and challenges because they keep him entertained enough to do it. that post, however, caused a certain inchident renaissance. the old moment between them was already explained in their early f1 years and wasn't really full on brought up after that. HOWEVER, red bull has decided to bring this moment to light with that tiktok.

ferarri, being the reactive masterclass (sarcasm) managed to respond to red bull a day later with another inchident meme (joking about the front row in brazil). over that time, both ferrari and red bull were interacting with each other (for example the old sticker war between the two) and ferrari engaged with charles' paddock endeavours that included max.

the last social post that seemed to include max on the ferrari socials was the infamous "charlie i have some space for you" ig story (which is really funny in handsight). after that, ferrari stopped posting any content with max and charles and has not interracted with red bull in any way. red bull has tagged them in all posts that included charles, but no response from ferarri. which we could see as the first switch.

then, back at it with rbr. charles and max are basically glued to each other in las vegas, they reposted the joint sky interview they did, and kept posting charles throughout the week as if he was their third driver. during that time, charles and max are asked not once, but TWICE about their karting days, and get pretty personal with their answers. during those, inchident is referenced once again.

it seems like red bull wants to highlight max and charles as a pair, not exactly as rivals as they were always painted to be. they may be rivals on track, but they seem more than friendly as of late, so there's no point in saying they're not getting along -- what if rb put this old moment from their karting days in the spotlight bc it highlights their entire childhood dynamic. it seems to me like they want to create a public narrative of max and charles being friends with long history instead of the classic rivarly, and ferrari clocked it before vegas and banned anything from their own socials because of it. it may also reflect the stage of negotiations between charles and his possible contract renewal with ferrari / possible pre-contract with rbr. because this is the exact process of how to soft launch a press announcement: organically drop hints -> create speculation for engagement -> ignore the speculation but continue pursuing the hints to spread the speculation narrative further -> proceed with the process and let the speculation die down right before the announcement -> drop the announcement

i'm not saying that they're cooking something major, they could be, but it's definitely interesting how they're trying to twist the general public's opinion on max and charles as a duo, a pair. and ferrari's sudden silence on their interactions with red bull/features of max on their instagram makes it even more suspicious.

[bethanythebogwitch]

Wet Beast Wednesday: pistol shrimp

Oh snap, it's the snapping shrimp post for Wet Beast Wednesday! Snapping shrimp or pistol shrimp are loud little critters that have evolves a very useful and fascinating tool in their pincers. Let's not waste time and shoot off to learn about these little gunslingers.

(Image: a pistol shrimp. It is a mostly white shrimp with red stripes. One of its claws is considerably larger than the other. It is standing on gravel and next to some seaweed. End ID)

Pistol shrimp are over 1,000 members of the family Alpheidae, which is part of the infraorder Caridea. This means they are true shrimp, not to be confused with superficially similar animals like brine shrimp, mantis shrimp, tadpole shrimp, and prawns. Yeah, I only recently learned that prawns and shrimp aren't a language difference between British English and American English like chips vs fries. They're not even that closely related. As true shrimp, pistol shrimp have two main body parts: the cephalothorax and abdomen, which are composed of 19 body segments. The abdomen forms a flexible tail with a fin on the end. When startled, the fin can rapidly curl under the body, propelling the shrimp backwards. Like other decapods, there are 10 limbs. The front pair of limbs have evolved into claws used to manipulate objects. The claws are the most distinguishing feature of pistol shrimp. They are asymmetrical, with one growing extremely large, over half the size of the body. The big claw has a modified version of the typical pincer. This pincer has an upper claw that can open up at a right angle. Under the claw is a pocket in the lower pincer, into which water flows. The upper pincer then slams down into this pocket, forcing the water out. The pressure of the pincer closing water in the pocket creates a cavitation bubble that is forced away from the claw at up to 26.8 meters per second. This is enough force to seriously wound small animals and hurt larger ones into leaving the shrimp alone. The cavitation bubbles can reach up to 4,427 degrees C (8,000 F) . For comparison, the surface of the sun is about 1,000 decrees (C) hotter. When the bubble pops, it creates a snapping sound that can reach 218 decibels. For comparison, most gunshots max out at around 170 db. This puts pistol shrimp is the running for the loudest ocean animals, with whales being the other main competitors. If that all sounds like a lot, the whole event happens so fast that the heat doesn't have time to affect much and the noise sounds like a moderately loud snap to us. Adults can snap their claws shut with an acceleration of up to 30 meters per second squared and juveniles can do it up to 20 times faster. The whole process takes less than a millisecond. When the cavitation bubble collapses, it can produce light. This is called sonoluminescence and nobody knows how it happens. If a pistol shrimp loses its large claw, the small claw will grow into a new large one while the missing limb will regenerate into a small claw. Adult pistol shrimp average between 3 and 5 cm long.

(Image: a drawing showing the process of a pistol shrimp snapping its claw. In the first panel, the claw is closed. In the second, the upper claw opens at a 90 degree angle, revealing a cavity. In the third panel, the cavity fills with water. In the final panel, the claw is closed again and a jet of water is ejected from the claw. End ID. Source: Wikipedia user Carermyers)

(Gif: black and white, slow-motion video of a pistol shrimp's claw snapping shut and creating a cavitation bubble. End ID. Source)

Pistol shrimp live worldwide, though most species live in tropical or temperate water. There are some cold water species and even freshwater species. Most prefer habitats where they can make burrows and where there are plenty of other animals. Coral reefs, oyster reefs, seagrass beds, mangrove groves are common habitats. Snapping is used for hunting and communication. They typically hide in burrows, waiting for fish or other small animals to pass by. When prey passes, the shrimp will snap to stun or seriously wound the prey, then drag it into the burrow. Some social species actually form eusocial hives with a single queen who produces all offspring. These shrimp are the only known marine eusocial species and all occur within the same genus (Synalpheus), though not every member of that genus is eusocial and eusociality appears to have evolved at least 3 times within that genus. It appears that a reason why only this genus developed eusociality is their larvae do not disperse, instead staying in the same area as the parents. The hives are usually located within sponges. Other social species are not eusocial, but still live together in colonies. Many less social species have formed a symbiotic relationship with gobies. Both species live in burrows, but gobies are bad at digging while the shrimp have poor eyesight. The goby will protect the shrimp while it digs a burrow, then the two live together. They will forage together, with the goby using its superior eyesight to watch for predators and warn the shrimp to get back to the burrow. Pistol shrimp are monogamous, the same pair coming back to mate over and over again (this does not apply to the eusocial species in which only the colony's queen is permitted to mate). The female is only fertile during a short period after molting. The male will stay with the female and protect her during the vulnerable period after mating and some species will remain with each other until the eggs hatch or permanently.

(Image: a eusocial pistol shrimp queen with eggs. Her body is translucent and multiple eggs are attached to her abdomen. The eggs look like translucent balls. The is inside of an orange sponge. End ID)

(Image: a pistol shrimp and goby emerging from a burrow in the sand. The shrimp is a mottled green and white. The body is a bright yellow fish covered with blue spots. End ID)

Pistol shrimp are a major source of noise in the places where they live. If you've ever been swimming and can hear repeated cracking noises, that may have been a bunch of pistol shrimp. Some scientists monitor the level of pistol shrimp noises as a method of monitoring the ecosystem. If the noise level drops, that is an indicator that the local ecosystem is suffering. The noise of the shrimps can get so loud that it actually interferes with sonar and forms of underwater communication. During World War II, members of the navy realized that the shrimp disrupted sonar enough to hide submarines, so they started hiding submarines near reefs with lots of the shrimp to keep them from being found by enemy subs. Weirdly not the only small marine animals to mess with submarines. I'll get the the other major one soon. The largest threats to pistol shrimp come from habitat destruction. Some species of pistol shrimp have entered the pet trade. As coral reefs, seagrass beds, and other habitats are destroyed, the shrimp that rely on them will suffer as well.

Yet another time I get to use one of these cards in a post

(Image: the Weird n' Wild Creatures card featuring pistol shrimp. End ID)

[pinkeoni]

Will & Billy: The Child and the Shadow

I recently read a book of essays from sci-fi and fantasy writer, Ursula K. Le Guin. Her essay "The Child and the Shadow" opens with a recount of a short story by Hans Christian Anderson, in which a man physically separates himself from his shadow. To keep a short story even shorter, neither the man nor his shadow is able to live a fulfilling life without the other. They need each other, both the light and the shadow, to be whole.

In season 2, the same season where Will is being haunted by a mysterious shadow, we are introduced to another William: Billy.

Will and Billy never have any meaningful interactions, or any real interactions at all, yet their stories are given so many interest similarities that are hard to ignore. They both come form abusive fathers, they both fell into possession by Vecna/the Mind Flayer, and of course, they both share the same name.

I think that, at least on a subconscious level, Will and Billy are meant to serve as two halves of one whole William. The light and dark. The child and the shadow.

Despite their similarities, Billy and Will are noticeably much different people. Will is kind and sensitive, but we've also seen how he often lets people walk all over him and withholds his feelings from others. Billy is confident and outgoing, but he's also aggressive and abusive.

I think the biggest difference between Will and Billy is their individual sexuality, and how those affect both how they act and how they are perceived. Will is ostracized from the towns people and referred to as Zombie Boy, which I've explained in a separate post how this ties into the eighties small town homophobia. Will is also sexually repressed, not being able to or allowing himself to display any of these desires. Billy is well received by the town from the get go, and wears his sexuality on his sleeve. We get a line from Max in season 3 indicating that Billy has frequent sexual encounters.

But his desire and selfishness is also what leads him to his demise. Billy is possessed while on his way to a steamy encounter with Mrs. Wheeler, a woman he knows is married. While this affair isn't necessarily a direct cause for his possession, I do think it's meant to be a consequence for his actions.

Will's problem in season 2 has to do with his emotional repression, he isn't able to tell his mother about the Mind Flayer until it's too late. And while I think that his possession might have been inevitable even if he had told her, what ends up freeing Will in the end is his family (and Nancy).

Le Guin uses both Jungian philosophy and Taoist beliefs to explain this idea of light and shadow, and how it applies to fiction. She explains that the journey of the hero is not dictated purely by light, but by the discovery of both.

"The only way for a youngster to get past the paralyzing self-blame and self-disgust of this stage is really go look at that shadow, to face it, warts and fangs and pimples and claws and all—to accept it as himself—as part of himself. The ugliest part, but not the weakest. For the shadow is the guide. The guide inward and out again; downward and up again; there, as Bilbo the Hobbit said, and back again. The guide of the journey to self-knowledge, to adulthood, to the light."

In keeping with Le Guin's Taoist beliefs, I believe that Will and Billy are meant to be these two halves of Yin and Yang. Will, the light, and Billy, the dark. But the two halves stand alone, unable to be whole. I wish that the show could have given us interactions between Will and Billy, especially in season 3. I think that their similar histories could have lead to interesting conversations.

Billy's darkness ultimately leads to his demise. He is maybe able to see the light at the very end, but it's too late, and the consequence of Billy's exploits ends in his death, where he is quite literally killed by the shadow itself.

I'm not saying that Will is going to die (at least not permanently, but that's a post for another day) but I do think that this ending for Billy is meant to show where Will's story could go, if he does not look inward and accept his own inner darkness. We see a little bit of this in season 2 before it is evaded— Will could be consumed by shadow until it eventually kills him.

So I think that this is where Will's story is going in season 5. In order for him to come-of-age, he is going to have to do what Billy couldn't, and become whole. I think for Will's story that means confronting own desires, and overcoming the shame that comes with it. He needs to turn inward and face the darkness inside of himself, before coming back to the light.

[cheriladycl01]

Request

Max Verstappen x American Fem Red Bull Driver

Max is in love with her and wants a chance to make her happy, but she can't forget her ex-boyfriend, with whom she has an on-and-off relationship. Her ex-boyfriend is not a total stranger. Joe Burrow, one of the main players of the current generation of American football, in which he plays as quarterback for the Cincinatti Bengals, has known Y/N since childhood, as they are both from the state of Ohio, he is also very passionate about her and tries to make the relationship continue at a distance, as she lives in Monaco. Y/N needs to make a decision about who will occupy the space in her heart. P.S: I don't know anything about American football, but one day a Joe Burrow edit appeared on TikTok and I fell in love with it. This is not to mention anything related to American football, just to mention that Burrow also wants to fight Max for her heart.

Take my heart and do as you want - Max Verstappen x RedBullDriver! Reader x Joe Burrow

Plot: You are a RedBull driver with one of the most notable relationships on the grid due to it's on and off nature. After a really rocky patch, they are currently broken up and she starts to see her team-mate in a different light.

You'd had the best season of your life after being promoted to RedBull. But that came with it being an insanely busy season, more exhausting and more duties to attend to. When you were in the beta RB team it hadn't really mattered as you weren't as admired as a driver on the grid but now being in a top performing team there was definitely more media attention on you.

This really affected your relationship with your now ex-boyfriend Joe Burrow, you'd dated him when you were both in high school and continued that relationship on into your adult lives.

At first when you didn't have the money to move out of state because all your money, and all your parents money went on racing, which wasn't as cheap or easy a career path as it was for Joe getting into Football and being given scholarships for college.

You had to work tooth and nail for your place in the sport. But you and Joe recently had been struggling with, well just being together in general. You'd made the decision to move to Monaco it made sense as a lot of your colleagues and friends resided there and now that you were earning more from being in Red Bull, it meant that you benefited from the tax regime there.

But that move put a massive strain on your relationship with Joe, you'd know each other for years and were childhood sweethearts, so of course you tried long distance.

It was hard because it wasn't just long distance, you both had such busy schedules that finding just time to call each other was unlikely.

Eventually Joe called it quits over the phone, the very next day you crashed out when Charles Leclerc's brakes disconnected and he cut you off going into a turn.

Joe had text you straight away that he was flying out to come and see you and make sure you were okay.

Thus was the start of the post-relationship era into the weird era where nobody not even yourselves knew if you were together or not. You loved each other so much, you were each others first in everything and this is the man you thought you'd end up marrying one day.

To the media, you were in this weird on and off relationship. When your schedules linked up, you were seen together for days on end be that in a random country where you race was, a football stadium in America where you were cheering him on, or in your new home of Monaco. But when you weren't together or close to having to separate you'd be seen arguing and fighting. You'd once even gone as far as to an-add each other on socials when a video came out of Joe in a club where he looked pretty close and cosy with a girl.

You obviously knew you couldn't stop him from seeing other people, that would be insane but you would have liked confirmation that you guys were seeing other people. As that would have been your final straw to cut emotional tie's with Joe.

Joe was special to you, and you thought he always would be. There was part of you that would always love him, and there was part of him that would always love you. But it was hard to ever let go of that which is where this vicious back and forth cycle came from.

However, the most recent time you'd been in one of your off periods your team-mate Max who you'd known also from childhood, not as early on as Joe but from about age 13 when you were doing Karting had started acting differently towards you.

"Hey Y/N, I saw these and remembered you like them" he said on the first occasion handing you a box of chocolates that you only really would treat yourself to around Christmas.

"Hey Y/N, I brought you this last weekend because you won!" he exclaimed handing you a little Monaco flag on a keychain because you won your race there.

"Hey Y/N! Marko said you needed a drink, so i brought you that Gauva juice your trainer makes for you" he smiled handing you the glass while you were sat in the Red Bull hospitality watching your on board from FP1.

And it continued, random little acts and gifts. Max had always been rather affectionate to you even before you were team-mates, sending you small compliments and making extra efforts when he pulled your name out for secret Santa.

You also started to notice his sourness whenever Joe was around particularly when you guys were racing on home turf where all of your friends came from.

"Joe baby, can you grab my helmet for me?" you asked him politely as you struggled getting all your wispy bits of hair tucked fully into your balaclava. However, he was scrolling on his phone, not listening to the request at hand.

"Here you go, at least I listen... unlike some of us" Max frowned looking directly at Joe to see even if that would get a reaction form him, which it did.

"Oh I'm sorry love. It's so loud in these garages! Here let me put it on for you. You know I like doing that!" he smiles at you placing his phone in his pocket and looking towards you.

"Thank you for grabbing it Max!" you smile at your team-mate before handing it to Joe. He makes sure your braid is in the best position before slipping it onto your head and kissing the top of you helmet. He kept looking over at Max the whole time.

He'd always been a little suspicious of Max's intentions towards his girlfriend, even before the move to become his team-mate and now that they shared a garage it was ten times worse.

He was constantly worried he was loosing you and the more you focused on your sport the more you would be prey to Max's advances and he'd win you over which Joe didn't want at all.

Joe loved you and he always would which is what hurt so much about the distance created between you two.

"Good luck in the race baby. i love you so much and your gonna do great!" he smiles down at you.

You give him a hug before running off to the garage where they would roll your car out onto track ahead of the formation lap.

You won that race, you and Max had a tense race constantly taking over one another while defending together from Lando who was in P3 until the last two laps where you got the upper hand and pushed in front despite being on the older tires.

Come the next race weekend you and Joe had probably had one of your most spiteful arguments to date.

"No, because why is it always me making the travel?" he had asked you.

"Because you play in just America baby. I drive round the world and it fucks me up with all the time difference changes espeically if I'm doing the Middle East back to you or Australia back to you" you try to explain but you could tell he was getting more frustrated with everything yoy said.

"Look, I love you, and you know I do. But right now I feel like I'm the only one making the effort!" he sighs rubbing his head.

"How can you say that?" you gasped in horror thinking of all the things you had sacrificed to try and make this work.

"It's always me coming to see you, you're never home anymore. I see your parents more than you do. All our friends miss you but your out here playing happy driver?" he chides throwing his hands up in exasperation.

"You know The States haven't been my home in a while Joe. How dare you fucking say this when you're the one who gave up on us first! I fought for us but YOU said you couldn't do this distance. Then when it got to much you came crawling back begging for my forgiveness..." you said raising your voice.

"It's just not fair when I'm making all these sacrifices for you and I see nothing in return!" he exclaims looking at you as you stood up to go get a glass of water.

"How is it just you making sacrifices! I declined my first shot in a RedBull seat for you and they gave it to Checo! I'm lucky they asked me a second time to replace him! Not many other people would have had that offer. I send you money to help pay for the house because I chose to move out! I've left the race track without doing media duties so i can catch a 15 hour direct flight just to come see you, yet I don't do enough?" you yell at him.

"Y/N please let's not argue. You know I love you and I'd do anything for you, for us please!" he cries looking at you his eyes a little glassy from the argument.

"No! I've been so stressed these path months and you keep telling me, it's fine, its going to be fine, we're going to be fine, this bad patch will pass soon, when all i wanted was you to comfort me and hug me and tell me it's okay to feel that way not try and dismiss my feelings!" you scream at him and he looks at you in shock.

After that it was like something possessed both of you to say what you both hated about the other which when you looked at it after they were actually all the things you loved about him because they were what made him, well him the man you fell in love with.

However, it was such a bad breakup that Joe was once again spotted in a night club. He'd text you the next morning apologizing saying he didn't mean any of it and it was just all a really big mistake.

You'd spent the day crying in your drivers room before the start of FP1. You felt so alone and like you couldn't talk to anyone.

"Y/N?" you heard the soft Dutch accent ask from the other side of the door. You held your sobs in and waited until it sounded like Max had left before you let a jagged breath out.

"Y/N, let me come in" you hear Max as making you get up and unlock the little bolt on the door.

"Are you-" he asks before he can fully look at you. You go back to the sofa and curl up into the ball you were in before he got there.

"Oh Schat, come here" he says as he takes a seat next to you with his arms open.

"I don't know what to do!" you cried into him while he played with your hair and rubbed your back comfortingly.

"Why do you keep doing this to yourself" he sighs pulling your chin up and looking you in the eyes.

"What do you mean?" you ask cocking your head to the side.

"This on and off toxic, viscous circle with Joe. It's not healthy and you only ever make yourself upset" he sighs, pulling some hair behind your ear.

"I don't know..." you sigh, thinking about all of it.

"Maybe I can help" he smiles. In Max's mind this may be the only chance he gets to admit his feeling for you, to you. And he wasn't going to waste that opportunity no matter the potential out come.

He leaned in and pulled you in for a kiss, you kissed back shocked what was going on. And eventually molded into it until a voice in the back of you head reminded you of how much you loved Joe even if you were broken up.

"Max no s-stop!" you mumble as you push him back and when you look over your team-mate he looks heartbroken.

You sit there for a second, kissing Max was so different to kissing Joe. Kissing Joe was familiar and comforting and full of love and the kindness that was Joe Burrow. But kissing Max was passionate, impulsive and a different kind of affection. Something new. And you couldn't put your finger on why Max made you feel like that from something as simple as a kiss.

You wanted to try it again.

So you leaned in, pulling his jaw closer to you until your lips met and the kiss was aggressive and both of you were fighting for more power. Just like you did on track.

But again, you pulled away a little voice at the back of your mind telling you this isn't something you should be pursuing as Joe will come back and apologize for the argument. Just like he always did.

"I-I'm confused ..." you say tears welling in your eyes. As you look over at Max.

"You need to leave!" you say immediately pushing him out the room and locking the door.

You stood there, not knowing what you were feeling or what to even think.

The only thing on your mind is that you were hopelessly stuck in between two boys and your stuck feeling for one of them, whilst growing feeling for the other.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @kapsylia @laneyspaulding19 @lazybot @malynn @cassielikereading @viennakarma @teamnovalak @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @jlb20416 @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @seomako @urdad-hot @formula1mount @tinydeskwriter @butterfly-lover @ironmaiden1313

[myosotisa]

deep end - s.h.

Steve Harrington x Reader

‖ summary: You and the gang have a pool day and some bad memories come up.

‖ tags: angst, hurt with very little comfort, post season 4, everyone lives (but that don't mean they ain't got trauma lmao), no y/n, no pronouns, reader is referred to as "honey". depictions of PTSD, anxiety/panic attacks. tw for fear of drowning. past tense? present tense? the fic is tense, that's for sure.

‖ word count: 2k

Today, May 6th, 1986, was a good day.

Up until very recently, most of the days had not been good at all. Spring break had done a number on all of you – nightmares, panic attacks, flashbacks. Some worse than others.

But today was a good day.

At least, until it wasn't.

Summer sun had invaded Hawkins and left everyone sweating and seeking shade after even a few minutes outside. AC blasted indoors and opened windows begged for a breeze to come through and bring some solace from the heat. The community pool was packed shoulder to shoulder and nearly impossible to get into – but that was fine.

Because Steve Harrington had his own pool.

Eddie, Lucas, Dustin, and Max were all already in the suburban backyard by the time you showed up with Robin. Steve had joined the other boys in the shallow end to start up a game of chicken – Dustin on Steve’s shoulders and Lucas on Eddie’s. Max sat on the pool’s edge with the water up to her shins, not able to get in further with the cast still on her right arm, and rolled her eyes as her friends tumbled over and into the water just to get back up again.

Robin went to go and sit by Max while you let yourself into the Harrington home, a container of drinks destined for the fridge just inside. By the time you had them chilling and pushed back out into the oppressive heat, Steve had pulled himself out of my pool to wait for you.

“Hi honey,” he said with a sticky sweet smile, ducking in to press a kiss to your cheek and dripping water on your cover-up.

“Hey handsome,” was your easy reply, Steve's smile lighting up further at the compliment. You called him handsome all the time and he still reacted like he'd never heard it before.

“Harrington, come on!”

His smile fell slightly as he rolled his eyes, shrugging at you before jogging back over to the pool.

You were just about to pull out your book and set up on one of the deck chairs when Nancy and Mike pushed through the fence gate.

More happy greetings, a hug from Nancy, and some chatting about the things she'd brought with her. Mike stripped off his shirt and shoes before walking over to the pool steps beside Max, submerging to his chest as he watched the others continue their game.

Robin came over and helped you and Nancy blow up the 3 inner tubes she had brought – Robin having to rescue you both with her superior musicians lungs. She quickly claimed the green dinosaur float, falling into it in the water as Dustin and Mike started to squabble over what kind of dinosaur it was supposed to be.

While you had originally grabbed the unicorn float, with it's pink hair and blue horn, you were quick to notice the longing glances from Nancy and offered a trade. She never would've ended up asking for it – she thought it was too childish to actually want the unicorn float – but you didn't miss the giddy grin on her face as she traded with you and settled into the pool a lot more gracefully than Robin.

So, with your strawberry frosted donut float and book in hand, you laid out on the sticky plastic and began to roast beneath the summer sun.

You and Nancy both had paperbacks cracked open while Robin seemed content to attempt a nap beneath her shades. Max busied herself by using a foot to gently push your floats around like a slow and lazy game of bumper cars. Mike finally succumbed to peer pressure and joined in with the boys playing with a volleyball toward the deep end and everything was good.

Everyone was smiling and laughing. Warm and lazy with the heat of a good, summer day.

Focused on a particularly intense chapter, you hardly noticed someone approaching your float until a wet chin draped itself over your arm.

Steve was looking at you with that lovesick smile again, his hair wet and pushed back as his tan skin glowed beneath the golden rays. “Enjoying your book?”

“I am, thank you very much.” But still, you placed it down on your stomach and turned your attention to your pretty boyfriend. “Are you having a good day?”

“Might have a couple bruises tomorrow, but not a big deal.” He hooks a wet arm over the side of your float, anchoring himself to you, and the skin along your thigh breaks out in goosebumps from the sudden brush of water.

“Steve, that's cold!”

He barely conceals a laugh, grin growing wider, before he tilts further toward you. “What, this?”

Was the only warning you got before he shook his head out like a dog, water flying from the ends of his hair and sprinkling all over you.

You nearly squealed, shoving him off and shouting about him getting your book wet, even though the smile on your face betrayed you.

After a few minutes of insisting it was funny as you fake pouted, and then Steve giving you some pathetic puppy dog eyes, you accepted his half hearted apology and settled again – one hand intertwined with Steve's as he held onto your float.

“Nance seems fine,” he said quietly, bringing your attention to the brunette. You had told him earlier you were worried about today, about bringing her back to the pool she spent two years barely able to look at, but she seemed perfectly at ease on her unicorn float. Just slowly turning page after page as she continued through the fantasy romance novel you’d lent her last week.

“Yeah,” you agreed, exhaling a relieved sigh, “I'm glad. She deserves it, y'know? We all do.”

Steve's hand squeezed yours, bringing your attention back to him on your other side. “You're the best, you know that, right?”

Not expecting the compliment, you got slightly flustered with the praise. “No, that's you,” you joked with a light flick to the tip of his nose.

He released your hand in mock offense, pushing your float slightly away as he put on a dramatic frown. He inhaled to reply, mouth parting, before he suddenly disappeared beneath the surface of the water.

The next few moments played out in slow motion.

In reality, Lucas and Eddie dove under the water to sneak up behind Steve – each of them grabbing an ankle and tugging him under as a practical joke.

To Steve, his heart stopped.

His chest constricted as his heart rate doubled, eyes squeezing shut as the panic gripped him tight and he waited to be pulled through the gate and thrown out on the other side.

Water filled his mouth from his half completed inhale as he was dragged under – his eyes widening and immediately beginning to burn from the chlorine.

But he wasn't in the pool anymore. It was dark; so, so dark and cold. He couldn't see anything through the murky water as he sunk lower and lower. The vice around his ankle held tight as he gave a kick, continuing to pull him back down to hell again.

To you, the world flipped on its side.

The last thing you saw before Steve went under was a flash of panic in his wide, brown eyes. Just like that night, on the boat. When he got dragged down and didn't come back up again.

“Steve?!” Your call is shrill, very quickly panicked as your adrenaline surged and your body tensed for a fight. It gets the attention of the rest of the group but you don't notice – eyes hyper focused on the spot he was before he disappeared.

In reality, you could glance down and see him in the clear water, just barely a foot below the surface. But you're not there in the Harrington’s pool. You're on a boat at Lover’s Lake and the man of your dreams just disappeared into the murky depths below.

“Steve?!” You scream again, rolling off your float and into the cool water, just like you had that night. I have to go after him, I have to get to him.

You vaguely register someone calling your name but you’re diving under, eyes burning instantly as you continue to look at Steve.

Eddie and Lucas have let him go now after sensing some sort of commotion from above, but Steve isn't moving. He isn't trying to swim up, though he is slowly ascending toward the surface. He's completely frozen there in the water, curled in on himself defensively.

You grab him and he grabs you in response, his nails digging into your bicep painfully as his eyes shoot open again. He doesn't even seem to realize its you before the two of you break the surface again.

Steve gasps for air – choking slightly on the water that was still in his mouth – and then starts to cough as he grabs tightly to you with both hands.

Your heart is pounding against your ribs like a hummingbird as your eyes rapidly scan him for the battered bruising across his throat, the blood coming from his mouth. “Steve? Can you hear me? Are you hurt?”

Robin is by your side an instant later, her head and shoulders still dry as she comes around the side to place a gentle hand on Steve’s shoulder while he coughs out chlorinated water.

Steve gives a stuttered nod as the coughing stops and he's able to take another deep breath in, his grip on you loosening to not be so painful as he closes his eyes. His inhales are coming through quickly, his eyebrows drawn together tight like he's in pain.

Your tunnel vision begins to scope out and you catch sight of Lucas and Eddie looking pained and apologetic in your periphery. They're both treading water in the deep end as you turn on them, anxiety and panic filtering out quickly into rage.

“What the fuck is your problem, huh?!” You snap, causing both of them to jump. Lucas's eyes are wide as saucers and Eddie looks like he's half tempted to book it just from the look on your face. “What the fuck kind of trick was that?! Maybe I should pull a gun on you, Lucas, just for fun. Or maybe, Eddie, I'll loop a rope around your neck for a few minutes and see how the fuck you like being reminded of almost dying!”

Both of them wince, drawing back from your outrage, which only makes you want to advance.

“H-honey,” Steve stutters beside you, half scolding and half terrified as he tries to put on a brave face. “It was just a joke.”

You turn your wild eyes back on him, body still reeling in fight or flight mode, as you realize his hands are trembling and the wetness to his eyes isn't from the pool at all. While you could easily continue to scream at them (which, when you're in a rational headspace again, you will feel guilty for), you focus in on Steve.

“Come on, let's go get you dried off, okay?” You offer much quieter, hovering close to him to try to keep you both grounded. He gives another shaky nod and lets you lead him over to the steps and out of the pool.

No one in the group says a word as you wrap him in a towel and then drape one over your own shoulders before sitting both of you down on one of the deck chairs. He continues to tremble slightly beside you as you tuck yourself tightly to his side, resting your head on his shoulder as you try to comfort him (and yourself).

We’re safe here. We’re okay. We’re going to be fine.

Everyone else watches silently as your paperback continues to collect water until it sinks down to the bottom of the deep end.

It was a good day. Until it wasn't.

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