#max verstappen imagine

[astonmartinii]

day five: santa community service | max verstappen social media au

pairing: max verstappen x fem single mum!reader

max swore in a press conference and now he's a mall santa with an itchy beard

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

maxverstappen1

liked by landonorris, danielricciardo and 893,092 others

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maxverstappen1: don't swear kids.... on a serious note, i had so much fun meeting the amazing kids of amsterdam (and delivering some gifts)

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user2: ummmmmm who is that woman ????

user3: that's what you've taken away from FOUR TIME WORLD CHAMPION MAX VERSTAPPEN BEING A MALL SANTA IN PUNISHMENT FOR SAYING FUCK

user4: ummmm yeah she's snug as a bug in a rug in the back of max's car that's REAL FUCKING INTERESTING

landonorris: why no picture of you as santa... pussy

maxverstappen1: gotta leave some girls for you haven't i mate?

landonorris: well by the looks of the third slide you've already got a girl so it's free range for me right?

maxverstappen1: third slide?

maxverstappen1: OH FUCK

maxverstappen1: she's never going to speak to me again now

landonorris: well you've just sworn again so maybe you'll get more community service and meet her again

maxverstappen1: i'm not dumb i got her number but like now she's going to see this and think i'm a freak :(

landonorris: you'll have to whip out that max verstappen charm again i guess

maxverstappen1: life is a prison

user5: NO ONE POST THE PICTURES OF MAX WITH THE KIDS IT WILL DO IRREPARABLE DAMAGE TO MY OVARIES

user6: i need dad max more than air at this point

danielricciardo: what is this depression session in the comment section maximus - you're a catch even with the creepy instagram etiquette

maxverstappen1: i had to do so much work to convince i wasn't a dork while in a FULL SANTA COSTUME and now i'm not even at step one i'm at step minus 100000000

danielricciardo: that's not very christmas spirit of you maxie

maxverstappen1: life is unfortunately not a hallmark movie so like she'll be a normal person, see that i've posted a pic of her sleeping to my 13 million followers and run for the hills

danielricciardo: okay humble brag

maxverstappen1: DANIEL HELP

danielricciardo: i think you'll be just fine

maxverstappen1: well thanks for nothing - USELESS

user7: oh so max gets generational headloss in all settings

user8: he's so real for that tho

user9: if this doesn't sort itself out i pray for george russell

georgerussell63: ???

user10: he is going to take it out on you ❤️

georgerussell63: oh fuck

maxverstappen1: @fia get him

yourusername

liked by landonorris, user11 and 2,457 others

yourusername: went for the mall santa and met her hero, how will i ever top this now?

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user12: FOUND YOU

yourusername: this is very creepy who are you

user12: oh i'm just a humble f1 fan who watched max verstappen crash out over thinking he fumbled you

yourusername: fumbling me? has he seen himself?

user12: oh girl i've just stalked your entire account your face card is insane

yourusername: i do not know what that means

user13: YOU HAVE A KID ????

yourusername: yes?

user13: so we could feasibly get step dad max - DILF MAX?

yourusername: are you people okay?

user13: he's down bad for you queen you gotta get in there

yourusername: excuse me?

user14: WAIT - you don't have a husband right?

yourusername: no...

yourusername: wait why am i replying to you people?

landonorris: how did they find you first i put so much effort into my investigation

oscarpiastri: you annoyed max until he gave you her name?

landonorris: RIGOROUS

yourusername: you people have a lot of followers, what are you doing here?

landonorris: max is your daughter's hero and you don't know me?

yourusername: damn that's an ego

landonorris: excuse me ?

yourusername: idk maybe my daughter loves max because he's plastered everywhere in the netherlands - she watches the races with my friends

landonorris: we drive the orange cars

yourusername: oh she hates yall

yourusername: i might have to block you two

oscarpiastri: I DID NOTHING IT WAS ALL HIM

maxverstappen1: ummm hi!

maxverstappen1: I'M SO SORRY PLEASE DON'T THINK I'M A CREEP

yourusername: why would i think you're a creep?

maxverstappen1: NO REASON

maxverstappen1: so that coffee?

yourusername: okay .....

yourusername: i was going to text you but yk kids and she's addicted to the games and has held my phone hostage

landonorris

liked by oscarpiastri, danielricciardo and 702,300 others

tagged: maxverstappen1 & yourusername

landonorris: didn't leave monaco fast enough and now i'm stuck third wheeling - AND lola still hates me :(

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user16: CAN WE SLOW DOWN WE'RE GOING SO FUCKING FAST

yourusername: isn't that kinda their job?

user16: oh you gagged me there, congrats queen

user17: okay well now i'm obsessed with them and i need to know why lola hates lando so much

landonorris: she's a hater - just like her mother

maxverstappen1: y/n is allowed to hate you. in fact i'll support her in all of her hating i don't care

landonorris: i literally stayed for an extra day so we could all do something fun for christmas and HERE WE ARE

yourusername: i don't hate you lando, but i have to support my daughter in her dreams

landonorris: SHE SAID HER DREAMS WERE HER EXPLODING MY CAR WITH HER MIND

yourusername: LOL

landonorris: that is not 'LOL' that's attempted murder - i'm going to put your child in jail

maxverstappen1: woah lando that's too far

landonorris: and telepathic murder isn't ?

maxverstappen1: first of all it's telekinesis and second of all - lola can do what she wants

user18: oh boy he got attached quick

yourusername: this is nothing compared to lola

maxverstappen1: what? i love my biggest fan

danielricciardo: well fuck me i guess

maxverstappen1: yes

danielricciardo: max! y/n is right there (text me later)

maxverstappen1: oh wait ewwww

maxverstappen1: i meant get fucked.

yourusername: you can complain about third wheeling all you want but i'll deal with it if you keep taking these cute ass photos

landonorris: it's torture being an artist 💔

maxverstappen1: we also paid for everything lando, you can deal with watching your best friend being in love

landonorris: we're best friends ???

maxverstappen1: i'm your best friend - you're third at most

landonorris: ????

maxverstappen1: 1. lola 2. y/n 3. lando (maybe)

yourusername: awwwwww you're so sweet darling

yourusername

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and 14,859 others

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yourusername: i support the fia's wrongs because they brought you to me

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user19: okay miss girl this is cute but i will NEVER let the fia live

yourusername: oh this is their one pass, next time i'll unleash lola's telekinesis

user19: tell lola that we thank her for her service

user20: but please don't blow up lando please

yourusername: she said orange cars - sorry osc

landonorris: what about a red car?

yourusername: oh she likes charles so no chance

charles_leclerc: taste 💅

maxverstappen1: i guess i'll let them off just this once because i love you

yourusername: you're so generous

georgerussell63: wanna forgive me as well

maxverstappen1: why would i do that?

maxverstappen1: also we're declaring our love for each other do you wanna GET THE FUCK OUT

georgerussell63: lola is talking about blowing up f1 cars with her mind i don't want to be a victim

yourusername: oh she won't blow your car up

georgerussell63: phew

yourusername: she'll bite you in person

georgerussell63: CRIKEY

georgerussell63: well i guess you guys can go back to declaring love now ...

yourusername: thanks i guess?

yourusername: love you maxy, i'm so glad we met you

maxverstappen1: i love you more, i love having both of you in my life

user21: this was very fast but this is also very cute

user22: i think we gotta get lola on sky sports - maybe she'll bite the british bias out of them

yourusername: do NOT threaten her with a good time

yourusername: however, i will say, lola doesn't actually bite she's very well behaved and just has a bit of a feral way about her

maxverstappen1: but it's so adorable :(

hulkhulkenberg: so ... paddock play dates

maxverstappen1: WE'RE THERE

yourusername: that would make the paddock a lot less intimidating for me

hulkhulkenberg: my daughter also prays on the downfall of everyone but me so they'll have that in common

maxverstappen1

liked by landonorris, danielricciardo and 1,245,038 others

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maxverstappen1: maybe santa is real ... love of my life was top of my list this year

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user25: idk about you guys but i've never seen him happier

user26: after this season i'm so glad the christmas break has treated him so well

user27: i can't wait for the rest of the grid to think he might let up now and then mad max get released first corner in melbourne

maxverstappen1: whatever i gotta do to get that winners trophy for lola

yourusername: this is the happiest holidays we've ever had, you've made my dreams come true and truly are the best person i'd ever want around lola. i love you <3

maxverstappen1: i wouldn't want to be with anyone else now, you guys are it for me x

maxverstappen1: now come downstairs i'm strategically placed underneath the mistletoe

yourusername: there's mistletoe?

maxverstappen1: .... the christmas fairy must of put it up ?

yourusername: you know you don't need an excuse to kiss me right?

maxverstappen1: hehehehehehehehehehe

user28: wow he's such a loser i love him

yourusername: he's * my loser and * he LOVES ME

yourusername: sorry that was rude

yourusername: but he's so worth showing off

maxverstappen1: i can't wait to show you off to the world on international tv - i gotta mark my territory

yourusername: as if i would ever look anywhere but at you

landonorris: fine! you guys are cute! i'm taking all the credit for connecting you two

maxverstappen1: and just how did you do that?

landonorris: i found y/n's instagram duh!

yourusername: actually @user12 found my instagram

user12: omg shout out

maxverstappen1: i also had y/n's number the whole time...

landonorris: CAN YOU GUYS JUST LET ME HAVE THIS? IT'S CHRISTMAS?

yourusername: you got us socks for christmas ??? (thanks tbf)

landonorris: ALL MY BUDGET WENT TO LOLA'S PRESENT I HAD TO GET ON HER SIDE

maxverstappen1: you mean the mini MCL36 that she's been glaring at since she opened it?

yourusername: i think she's practicing her telekinesis for 2025 ❤️

landonorris: FUCK

yourusername: she just wants maxy to win lando, you can't deny her that

landonorris: i can feel her puppy dog eyes through the phone

maxverstappen1: i'll do anything to win for her - ANYTHING. merry christmas xx

landonorris: that's so threatening

yourusername: that's so romantic

fin.

note: ENJOY

[pucksandpower]

Shouldn’t Have Done That

Mafia boss!Max Verstappen x Leclerc!Reader

Summary: trying to get one of the most dangerous men in the world to put a hit out on the love of his own life probably isn’t the brightest idea (or in which, for someone with a PhD, your professor is shockingly stupid)

Warnings: 18+ content, sexual harassment, imbalanced power dynamics, graphic violence, and descriptions of bodily harm

The door to your apartment swings open, and the chatter from the hallway stops. Four of your classmates shuffle inside, their footsteps faltering as they take in the sight before them. They’re silent for a moment too long.

“Wait,” Katie says, her eyes wide as she looks up at the vaulted ceiling and back down to the gleaming hardwood floors. “Is this your place?”

You shrug, tossing your keys into the bowl by the door. “Yeah.”

“You live here?” Carla echoes, her voice tinged with disbelief.

“I mean,” you chuckle lightly, “obviously.”

The apartment, with its high ceilings and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Mediterranean, feels miles away from the cramped student housing they’re all used to. It's not just the space. The sleek furniture, the abstract art pieces on the walls, the elegant touches — none of it exactly screams student budget. They’re trying not to stare, but they’re doing a bad job of hiding it.

“I thought we were coming over to, like … study,” Peter finally says, breaking the silence, a nervous chuckle following.

You give him a playful nudge with your elbow. “We are.”

“But here?” Katie crosses her arms, glancing at you with a raised eyebrow. “Come on, what’s the deal? This place has to cost a fortune.”

There’s a beat, then a couple of them laugh, but it’s a little strained. They’re not joking. They’re genuinely trying to piece it together. You could brush it off, let them make their own assumptions, but something about their wide-eyed curiosity feels harmless.

“My brother,” you say, almost casually. “He’s … well, he’s doing okay. He helps me out.”

They’re all staring, but it’s Carla who finally speaks up. “What does your brother do?”

You hesitate for just a second before answering. “Honestly, I’m not entirely sure.”

Katie’s eyes narrow. “You’re not sure?”

“I mean, I know it’s something with negotiations. Like, high-level stuff. It’s complicated.” You wave it off like it’s no big deal, like it doesn’t really matter. Because it doesn’t, right? You’ve never been the type to get too involved in his work. You just trust that he knows what he’s doing.

Carla tilts her head, curious but not pushing further. Peter, on the other hand, leans against the kitchen island, his lips curving into a smirk. “Something with negotiations? So, what? Is he, like, a spy or something?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “No, nothing like that.”

“Are you sure?” Peter presses, his tone teasing but with just enough edge that he’s probably half-serious.

“Not everything is out of a Bond movie, Peter,” you say, rolling your eyes.

“But the view!” Katie says, pulling everyone’s attention back to the massive windows overlooking the water. “I can’t believe you get to wake up to this every day.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Carla adds. “I’d never get any work done.”

“I manage,” you say, grinning. The truth is, it’s still surreal to you too. This place is everything you didn’t know you wanted, and sometimes you catch yourself staring out those windows, trying to remind yourself that it’s real.

“Man, I bet you never want to leave,” Katie says, still wandering around like she’s in a museum.

“Not when she has everything she needs right here,” Peter quips. “Look at this kitchen. You could probably host a Michelin chef here.”

You open the fridge, grabbing a bottle of sparkling water. “I wouldn’t know. I mostly use it for reheating leftovers.”

“You’re telling me this place has a kitchen like this, and you’re eating takeout?” Carla gasps dramatically, as if this is the most offensive thing she’s heard all day.

You shrug, uncapping the bottle. “Priorities.”

There’s a pause as everyone takes another lap of the apartment, taking in the minimalist, yet undeniably luxurious decor. The vibe is light, but you can feel the unspoken curiosity still lingering in the air.

“So … how well off are we talking, exactly?” Katie asks, not looking at you directly but instead at the marble countertops.

You shrug again, like it’s not that big of a deal. “Comfortable. Let’s just say he’s good at what he does.”

“I’ll say,” Peter mutters under his breath, and you can’t help but smirk.

For a moment, there’s silence again, but then Carla’s eyes light up like she’s had the best idea in the world. “Wait. Hold on. You know what I need to see?”

You raise an eyebrow, curious but already a little wary of where this is headed. “What?”

“Your closet.”

You blink, caught off guard by the request. “My closet?”

Katie jumps in, clapping her hands together. “Oh my god, yes. I didn’t even think of that. You have to show us.”

“I-” You hesitate, glancing towards the hallway. You hadn’t planned on giving them a tour of your personal space. “It’s not-”

“Come on!” Carla insists, grabbing your arm and pulling you towards the hallway with an eager grin. “We won’t judge. We just want to see.”

“Please?” Katie adds, pouting slightly for emphasis.

You laugh, giving in. “Fine, fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

As you lead them down the hallway, you can feel the anticipation in the air. When you stop in front of the large double doors, their excitement is palpable. You twist the knob, pushing the doors open with a small sigh.

“Okay, here it is.”

The collective gasp that follows is almost comical. You step aside, letting them wander into the massive walk-in closet, which feels more like a high-end boutique than anything else. The walls are lined with shelves and racks overflowing with designer labels. Chanel, Dior, Balmain, Gucci. Every label under the sun is here, all neatly arranged and organized in a way that’s both overwhelming and aesthetically pleasing.

Carla immediately rushes to a rack, her fingers brushing over the fabric of a Givenchy gown. “Are you kidding me?”

“This is unreal,” Katie whispers, her voice filled with awe as she runs her hand over a pair of Louboutin heels. “It’s like a dream.”

Peter whistles low, leaning against the doorframe, trying to play it cool, but even he looks impressed. “I’ve never seen this much designer stuff in one place.”

“I’ve only worn, like, half of it,” you admit sheepishly.

Carla spins around, her mouth hanging open. “Half? You could dress an army in here.”

You laugh, leaning against the doorframe, watching them fawn over the collection like kids in a candy store. It’s surreal, seeing your life through their eyes. To you, it’s just your brother’s way of making sure you’re taken care of, but to them, it’s something out of a movie.

Katie pulls out a vintage Valentino dress, holding it up in front of her. “I would die for this.”

“Please don’t,” you tease. “It’s just clothes.”

“Just clothes?” Carla repeats, incredulous. “This is practically a museum of couture.”

They spend the next several minutes pulling out pieces, laughing and gasping at everything from limited-edition handbags to extravagant gowns, and you can’t help but smile. It’s kind of fun, seeing them so excited, even if you still feel a little weird about the whole thing.

Finally, Carla turns to you, eyes wide. “Okay, you have to let us borrow something for the next event. Like, you have to.”

You shake your head, laughing. “We’ll see.”

But as they continue to gush over your closet, you realize that maybe it’s not such a big deal after all. Maybe sharing a little piece of this life with them doesn’t have to feel strange. Maybe it can just be fun.

***

Class is over before you realize it. Professor Turnier’s lecture on the intricacies of international negotiations had been more droning than usual, and the faint buzz of students gathering their things fills the hall. You shove your notebook into your bag, barely listening to the idle chatter around you. There’s a slight tension in the air that you can’t quite place, a sharpness that feels out of sync with the mundane end to the lecture.

You stand up to leave when you hear the professor’s voice, smooth and calculated.

“Could you stay behind for a moment?”

You freeze, glancing over your shoulder. His words aren’t unusual. He often asks students to hang back to discuss assignments or offer advice on projects. But something about his tone feels different. Off.

You sling your bag over your shoulder and nod, offering a polite, if tight, smile. “Sure.”

The last few students file out of the room, their footsteps echoing in the now-empty lecture hall. You hesitate before walking down toward his desk, feeling his gaze tracking your movements. His office is just off the hall, an enclosed glass-walled space where you can already see stacks of papers cluttering his desk.

“Come in,” he says, gesturing towards the open door, his voice too casual.

You step inside, noting the heavy scent of tobacco clinging to the air, and the way the blinds are partially drawn, casting strange shadows across the room. You stand near the door, feeling a sudden urge to stay as close to an exit as possible.

“Have a seat,” Turnier offers, motioning toward the chair across from his desk.

“I’m okay standing,” you say, trying to keep your tone light, even though your instincts are kicking into overdrive.

The professor doesn’t push it. He leans back in his chair, tapping his fingers together, watching you with a strange smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’ve been doing quite well in this course,” he starts, his voice calm and slow. “Very well, actually.”

You nod, unsure where this is going. “Thanks. I’ve been putting in a lot of work.”

“I can tell,” he replies. “You’re … very impressive.”

There’s a flicker of something unsettling in his words, and your stomach tightens.

He clears his throat, standing from his chair and walking around the desk to lean casually against the front of it, much closer now. “You know, I’ve been thinking. Someone like you, with your intelligence, your connections, could really go far in this world.”

You glance toward the door, wondering how much longer you’ll have to listen to him before you can politely excuse yourself. “I’m just focusing on the coursework right now. Trying to stay on top of things.”

“Of course,” he says, nodding, but his eyes are still on you. There’s a slowness to his movements, a deliberate lack of urgency that feels like he’s setting up for something. “But you could be doing so much more. I could help you.”

You take a step back instinctively. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

His smile widens, though there’s nothing friendly about it now. “You know exactly what I mean.”

You stare at him, the air in the room thick with a sudden, unmistakable tension. The distance between you feels far too small. He’s watching you with a kind of predatory stillness, like he’s waiting for a reaction, like he wants you to feel trapped.

“I should probably go,” you say, your voice steady but your heart pounding in your chest. “I have another class soon.”

Before you can move, his hand darts out, grabbing your wrist with a firm grip. The shift from casual to threatening is immediate, and panic flares in your chest. “You’re not going anywhere yet.”

You try to pull your hand free, but he tightens his grip, pulling you closer. His other hand moves to your waist, fingers curling possessively as his breath catches in a disgusting, anticipatory way.

“I could do a lot for you,” he murmurs, his face too close to yours now. “You’re smart enough to know that. I could make your career. Or ruin it.”

His hand slides lower, and you freeze, caught in the horror of the moment, disbelief mixing with disgust. But then something in you snaps.

“Get off me,” you say through gritted teeth, your voice trembling but fierce.

He laughs, a low, condescending sound that makes your skin crawl. “You don’t want to make this difficult.”

Your body moves before your mind fully catches up. With all the force you can muster, you slam your knee upward into his groin. His breath catches in his throat as he doubles over, releasing you instantly, his face twisting in pain. He stumbles back, clutching himself, groaning in agony.

You don’t wait for him to recover. You turn toward the door, ready to sprint out of his office and never look back. But just as your hand grips the doorknob, you hear his voice, raw and venomous behind you.

“You’ll regret this.”

You stop, your pulse pounding in your ears, but you don’t turn around.

“I’ll make sure you regret this,” he spits, still hunched over but his voice sharp and filled with fury. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”

You swallow hard, every muscle in your body tensing.

“You think your money can protect you?” He sneers, his words like poison. “I have friends — powerful friends. You think you can humiliate me like this and just walk away? You’ll never have a career. I’ll make sure of it.”

You stare at the door in front of you, every instinct screaming at you to leave, but his words hang in the air, twisting into something darker, something more sinister.

“I know people. People who could make your life hell. Mafia connections, sweetheart,” he says with a sickening smirk, though his voice is still ragged from the pain. “You have no idea how easily I could ruin you.”

Your breath catches, your fingers gripping the doorknob so tightly your knuckles turn white. His threat lingers, the weight of it pressing down on you. You’ve heard stories — whispers of people who move in dangerous circles, people who have connections that go far beyond what you’d ever imagined dealing with.

You know he could be bluffing. He probably is. But what if he’s not?

You force yourself to open the door, stepping out into the hallway, your legs trembling. You don’t look back. You can’t. The hallway is empty, the echoes of your footsteps the only sound as you walk, faster and faster, away from his office, away from the suffocating tension of what just happened.

But his voice, that horrible promise, follows you like a shadow.

“I’m going to ruin you.”

You step out of the building, the cool Mediterranean air hitting your face, but it doesn’t calm the storm inside you. You feel the bile rise in your throat as you stop just outside the doors, leaning against the wall and trying to steady your breathing.

Your mind races, replaying everything that just happened. The feel of his hands on you, the way he looked at you, the way he thought he could get away with it. And then his threat — the weight of it hanging over you, heavy and suffocating.

What now?

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, but you don’t look at it. You can’t focus on anything but the gnawing sense of fear and anger churning inside you. For a second, you consider going back. Reporting him. But then you remember the look in his eyes, the cold certainty in his voice when he made that threat.

Mafia connections.

It sounds ridiculous, like something out of a movie. But here, in Monaco, where money and power intermingle in ways that blur the lines between the law and something far darker, it doesn’t feel so far-fetched.

You push yourself away from the wall and start walking, needing to move, needing to get away from the university, from the weight of what just happened. But as you walk, your mind keeps circling back to the same thought.

He’s not going to get away with this.

You refuse to let him.

***

You don’t remember driving to Charles’ apartment. The world outside had blurred into a haze of flashing lights and slick streets, your breath ragged in your chest as you fought to hold back the tears. By the time you park the car, your hands are shaking, white-knuckled on the steering wheel. You sit there for a second, trying to gather yourself, but the weight of what happened presses down, heavy and relentless.

Finally, you stumble out of the car, slamming the door shut, your footsteps hurried as you rush toward the entrance of the building. Your vision swims, the tears threatening to spill over, but you force yourself to keep moving, to get to Charles.

You don’t even knock when you reach his door. You punch in the code he gave you a long time ago and push the door open, not caring about anything but the need to see him, to feel safe for even a second.

Charles is in the living room, standing by the kitchen counter, his head turning the moment you step inside. His face instantly shifts from casual surprise to deep concern when he sees you — your tear-streaked face, your trembling body. He moves toward you without hesitation, his arms reaching out before you can even say a word.

“What happened?” He asks, his voice low and urgent as he pulls you into his chest. His strong arms wrap around you, holding you close, his warmth grounding you in a way you didn’t even know you needed.

You try to speak, but the words are stuck in your throat, tangled with sobs. You collapse into him, your legs giving way as the tears finally break free. His grip tightens as he catches you, lowering you gently onto the couch, cradling you like a child. You bury your face in his chest, gasping for air between sobs.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he murmurs, rocking you gently, his hand running through your hair in soothing strokes. “You’re safe now. You’re with me. Just breathe, okay?”

You try to follow his instructions, but your breaths come out jagged, choking on the tears. It feels like the whole day is crashing down on you at once, and the more you try to hold it together, the more everything falls apart.

He keeps murmuring reassurances, his hand never leaving your hair, his other arm a firm anchor around your shoulders. “I’ve got you. I’m right here. Just take your time.”

It takes a few minutes before you can even manage to form a coherent sentence. The sobs slow, but your whole body still trembles in his arms. You pull back just enough to look up at him, your face wet, eyes puffy, but the words still feel thick on your tongue.

“Charles …” Your voice breaks, and another hiccup escapes before you can stop it. “It’s … it’s my professor. H-He …”

His face hardens instantly, the warmth in his expression replaced by something darker, colder. “What did he do?”

You swallow, trying to steady your breathing, but the panic rises again as the memory of that office, the way his hands grabbed you, floods back. You squeeze your eyes shut, your words coming out in a rush. “H-He tried to touch me. He wouldn’t let me leave. I-I had to push him off me, and he said … he said he’s going to ruin me, Charles.”

Your voice cracks, and fresh tears spill over as you cling to him, your fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt like a lifeline.

Charles doesn’t say anything at first, but you feel the tension radiating through his body. His grip on you tightens, and when you finally open your eyes, you see the fury etched into his face, his jaw clenched so hard it looks like it might snap.

“He what?” His voice is low, almost too calm, but there’s a dangerous edge beneath it.

You nod, your words barely a whisper. “He grabbed me, and I pushed him, but he … he said he’s going to fail me now. He said he has mafia connections, and he’s going to ruin my life.”

For a second, Charles just stares at you, his eyes dark with something unnameable. Then, suddenly, he pulls you even closer, wrapping his arms around you so tightly it feels like he’s trying to shield you from the entire world.

“He’s not going to do a goddamn thing,” Charles says, his voice rough but steady. “I won’t let him. I promise you, he won’t get away with this.”

You hiccup, shaking your head against his chest. “But he … he said-”

“I don’t care what he said,” Charles cuts in, his hand moving to cup the back of your head, pressing your face into his shoulder. “He’s not going to touch your career. He’s not going to touch you. I’ll make sure of that.”

Your whole body shakes, the weight of his words sinking in, but the fear doesn’t leave. It clings to you, tight and suffocating, like a shadow you can’t shake. “He said he knows people, Charles. Dangerous people.”

“I know people too,” he says, his voice hard, cold in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. “You’re my sister. He’ll wish he’d never crossed you.”

You pull back slightly, blinking up at him, your brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

He lets out a slow breath, his hand brushing a tear from your cheek. “You don’t need to worry about that. Just trust me, okay? I’ll handle it.”

“But-”

“No buts,” he says, his tone brooking no argument. “I’ll take care of everything. You just need to focus on staying safe. I won’t let him come near you again.”

Your lip trembles, and you lean into him, letting yourself be comforted by his certainty, by the strength of his promise. But the words the professor had said — his sneering, his threats — they linger in your mind, gnawing at you.

“What if he really can do it?” You whisper, the fear creeping back in. “What if he ruins me, Charles? What if-”

“He won’t,” Charles says firmly. “I’ll make sure of it.”

You press your face into his chest again, trying to breathe through the panic. He holds you, rocking you gently, his voice a steady anchor in the storm.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” he murmurs, his voice softening. “You’re my little sister. No one messes with you and gets away with it. Do you understand?”

You nod against his chest, your tears slowly subsiding as his words wrap around you like a protective shield.

“I’ll make him pay for what he did,” Charles says, his voice dropping lower, more serious. “He’s not going to hurt you again. And he sure as hell isn’t going to ruin your career. I’ll make sure of it.”

For the first time since you walked into his apartment, you feel a small flicker of relief. Charles has always been the one to make things right, the one who takes care of things when you can’t. If anyone can fix this, it’s him.

“But how?” You whisper, looking up at him, your voice fragile.

He meets your gaze, his expression softening just a bit, though the fire still burns in his eyes. “I have my ways.”

The cryptic answer doesn’t do much to soothe you, but there’s something in his voice, in the way he holds you, that makes you trust him. You know he means what he says. He always has.

You let out a shaky breath, leaning into him again, your body exhausted from the rollercoaster of emotions. “I don’t know what to do.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Charles says, his voice gentle now. “I’ve got this. You just need to rest. Take a breath. You’ve been through enough.”

His words wash over you, and you feel yourself relaxing slightly, the weight lifting just enough for you to breathe again.

“Thank you,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

He presses a kiss to the top of your head, his hand still cradling you like you’re something precious. “You don’t need to thank me. You’re family. I’ll always protect you.”

***

Max sits at the head of a long, polished mahogany table, a glass of whiskey resting in front of him. The dim lighting casts sharp shadows across the room, reflecting the power and wealth that permeates everything around him. He’s calm, calculating, the very image of control, his blue eyes scanning the room as his men discuss the details of the night’s business. There’s an unspoken respect, an awareness that every word spoken in his presence is weighted, measured, as if any misstep could have consequences.

Charles is beside him, his right-hand man and oldest friend, the only one who can match Max’s intensity. Charles leans back in his chair, but there’s a tension in his posture tonight — something Max doesn’t miss.

Max notices everything.

It’s been that way since the day he took over the family business, since he became the Max Verstappen, the name that inspires both reverence and fear in equal measure.

His phone buzzes on the table, breaking the momentary silence. He reaches for it, raising an eyebrow when he sees the number. Unknown, but local.

“Hold that thought,” Max says to the room, lifting a finger as he stands up and steps away from the table, phone in hand. He walks toward the tall windows overlooking the city. Monaco spreads out beneath him, glittering under the night sky. With a flick of his thumb, he answers the call.

“Yeah?” His voice is deep, smooth, but edged with impatience. He doesn’t do pleasantries with strangers.

There’s a pause on the other end, and then a voice, hesitant but smug, seeps through. “Mr. Verstappen. I wasn’t sure if you’d answer.”

Max frowns slightly, recognizing that tone — someone who thinks they’ve called in a favor, someone who believes they have power. He hates those kinds of people.

“Who is this?” He asks, cutting to the point.

“This is Alan Turnier. I was told you’re a man who gets things done … discreetly.” There’s an oily confidence to his words, and Max’s frown deepens.

He’s heard the name before. Some professor at the university, an arrogant prick by all accounts. Charles had mentioned him in passing a few times, and now the man is calling him, of all people.

“And what exactly do you want from me, Professor?” Max’s voice is low, his tone dangerously calm. He already doesn’t like where this is going.

“Well,” the professor begins, “I’ve got a problem. A student. A rather difficult one, actually. She’s been causing some … trouble, and I need her to be taken down a peg or two. You know, rough her up a bit, teach her a lesson.”

Max’s grip on the phone tightens, but his face remains impassive. He’s handled scumbags like this before. He’s used to people thinking they can use him to solve their petty problems.

“Who’s the student?” Max asks, keeping his voice steady, though there’s a hard edge beneath it now.

The professor chuckles like he’s sharing a secret. “Her name’s Y/N Leclerc. She’s been a real pain. Thought she could get away with disrespecting me, so I figured I’d call in a favor. Make sure she learns her place.”

Max stops breathing for a moment.

The name hits him like a sledgehammer, slamming into his chest with a force he didn’t expect. His mind races, his body going rigid as every instinct flares up. Charles’ sister. Your name. The girl he’s known for years. The one he’s always been protective of, even if he’s kept his distance. The one who’s always had that soft, unaffected smile that somehow disarmed him, even when nothing else could.

His free hand curls into a fist.

“What did you say?” Max’s voice drops dangerously low, quieter now, but the threat in it is unmistakable.

“I said she needs to be put in her place,” the professor repeats, not realizing the fatal mistake he’s just made. “A little lesson in respect. Maybe scare her a bit — she’s been thinking she’s untouchable.”

Max’s vision narrows. The world outside the window blurs as a violent rage surges through him. He’s usually calm, calculated, but this? The idea of anyone laying a hand on you? His jaw tightens, his pulse quickening with the force of the anger boiling inside him.

Without another word, Max pulls the phone away from his ear and stares at it for a second. He doesn’t think — he acts. His grip tightens, and with a sharp motion, he hurls the phone across the room, sending it crashing against the wall. The sound of it shattering echoes through the room as shards of glass and metal fall to the floor.

“Max?” Charles’ voice cuts through the haze, concerned and alert. He’s already on his feet, moving toward Max. “What the hell was that about?”

Max doesn’t answer immediately. His chest heaves with barely restrained fury, his hands still balled into fists at his sides. He breathes deeply, trying to steady himself, but the rage won’t let go. It claws at him, consuming him.

“Max.” Charles is in front of him now, eyes searching his face for an answer, his own tension rising. He’s seen Max angry before, but this? This is different. Personal. “Talk to me. What happened?”

Max finally meets his gaze, his voice like gravel as he speaks. “That was Turnier. The professor.”

Charles’ eyes narrow at the mention of the name. “What did he want?”

Max clenches his teeth, trying to control the storm inside him. “He wanted me to rough up a student for him. Said she was causing trouble.”

Charles’ face darkens, his own anger simmering just beneath the surface. “Who?”

Max’s eyes burn with intensity as he holds Charles’ gaze. “Y/N.”

The moment her name leaves his lips, Charles freezes. The color drains from his face, and his jaw tightens. “What?”

Max doesn’t repeat himself. He doesn’t need to. The weight of what the professor asked for hangs heavy between them, the unspoken understanding thickening the air.

“He didn’t know she’s your sister,” Max says, his voice low but lethal. “Didn’t know she’s my family.”

Charles exhales sharply, his fists clenched. “What did you say to him?”

“I didn’t say anything,” Max growls, his voice hardening. “I hung up. Smashed the phone.”

There’s a long pause as the two of them stand there, the weight of the situation settling in. Charles looks like he’s ready to explode, his hands twitching as if he wants to hit something, anything, to release the rage coursing through him.

Max, however, remains deadly calm on the outside, even though the fury inside him is almost unbearable. His mind races with possibilities, with thoughts of what he’s going to do next. He has power, more than Turnier could ever imagine, and he’s going to use every ounce of it to make sure that man never comes near you again.

“We’ll handle this,” Max says finally, his voice cold, determined. “He’s going to regret even thinking about touching her.”

Charles nods, but his eyes are still filled with a kind of wild, protective fury. “I want to be there when you do.”

Max meets his gaze, and for the first time since the call, a grim smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “You will be.”

For a moment, they stand in silence, the only sound the faint hum of the city below. Then Max turns back toward the table, his movements deliberate as he grabs the decanter of whiskey and pours himself another glass, the liquid sloshing into the crystal tumbler.

“Call Nico,” Max says to Charles, his tone businesslike but laced with an edge of menace. “We’re going to need a cleanup crew. And tell him to bring the big car.”

Charles doesn’t hesitate, already pulling out his phone, his expression steely. Max takes a long sip of the whiskey, the burn of it doing nothing to dull the fire inside him. He knows what needs to be done, and he knows exactly how to make Turnier pay.

The professor had no idea who he was messing with.

Max sets the glass down with a sharp click, his mind already working through the logistics, the steps he’ll take to destroy the man who dared to threaten you. Because this isn’t just about revenge. It’s about protecting what’s his. And as far as Max is concerned, you’ve always been part of that.

“I’ll take care of it,” Max says, more to himself than to anyone else, his voice low and final.

And he will.

No one touches you. Not ever.

***

Max moves through the dimly lit warehouse with the kind of purpose that turns heads and commands silence. Every step is deliberate, every movement calculated. His men line the walls, standing in the shadows like sentinels, but none of them speak. Not when Max is like this. Not when the air is thick with the unspoken threat that something bad is about to happen.

Charles walks beside him, his face set in hard lines, his shoulders tight with barely restrained fury. The kind of fury only family could ignite. The kind that burns hotter and longer than anything else.

At the center of the room, tied to a steel chair, is Professor Turnier.

He’s already bruised, his face swollen from the initial “conversation” Max’s men had with him. But this? This is different. Max and Charles didn’t come here to chat. They came to finish this.

Turnier’s eyes dart nervously between the two men as they approach. His arrogance, his smug self-assurance — it’s gone now, replaced by something desperate and fearful.

“Please … I didn’t know!” Turnier’s voice trembles as he speaks, his words tumbling out too quickly, as if speed could save him. “I didn’t know she was your sister. If I’d known-”

Charles steps forward before Max can, grabbing Turnier by the front of his shirt and yanking him forward, close enough that the professor’s breath hitches in fear. “You think that matters?” Charles hisses, his voice low, lethal. “You think it makes a difference who she is to me?”

Turnier’s lips quiver, his face pale. “I-I didn’t mean-”

“You didn’t mean?” Max’s voice cuts in, smooth but ice-cold, his hands sliding into the pockets of his tailored suit as he steps up beside Charles. “You didn’t mean to assault her? Didn’t mean to threaten her future? Didn’t mean to call me, of all people, to finish your dirty work?”

Turnier’s mouth opens, but no words come out. Max watches him with a look of disdain, his lip curling slightly. It’s pathetic, really — this man, who had so much confidence, so much entitlement when he thought he had control, now reduced to a trembling, sniveling mess.

Max tilts his head, eyes narrowing as he studies Turnier. “Do you know what I do to people who ask me to hurt someone I care about?”

Turnier shakes his head frantically, tears already beginning to spill from his eyes. “Please … I didn’t know. I didn’t know who she was. I was wrong, I see that now. Just — just let me go. I’ll leave. I’ll disappear. I won’t come near her ever again. I swear!”

Charles lets out a low, bitter laugh, but there’s no humor in it. He releases his grip on Turnier’s shirt, only to backhand him across the face with such force that the chair tilts. The professor yelps, blood spraying from his split lip as he teeters before slamming back down onto the floor.

“You think it’s that easy?” Charles growls, his hands flexing at his sides, itching for more. “You think you can just walk away after what you did?”

Turnier groans, his head lolling to the side. “I-I made a mistake. I can fix it. I can-”

“No.” Max’s voice is sharp, final. “There’s no fixing this.”

He steps closer, crouching down so he’s at eye level with Turnier, his expression unreadable, his dark eyes boring into the professor’s. Turnier tries to look away, but Max grabs his chin, forcing their eyes to meet. “You thought you were untouchable, didn’t you? That no one would question you. That you could do whatever you wanted and get away with it.”

Turnier’s breath comes out in shaky gasps, his eyes wild with fear. “Please, I’ll do anything. Just let me go.”

Max shakes his head slowly, as if he’s disappointed. “You don’t understand. This isn’t about what you can do. It’s about what I’m going to do to you.”

Turnier whimpers, his whole body shaking now, the weight of his impending fate finally settling in.

Max stands, his movements graceful, effortless. He turns to Charles, who is vibrating with rage, his fists clenched, every muscle in his body taut like a coiled spring.

“Charles,” Max says calmly, “what do you think we should take first?”

Turnier’s eyes widen in terror as he realizes what’s coming. He jerks in the chair, trying to free himself from the ropes that bind him, but it’s no use. His voice cracks as he screams, “No, please — no! Don’t!”

Charles steps forward, his eyes gleaming with a cold, focused hatred. “The tongue,” he says, his voice low, almost detached. “He won’t need that anymore.”

Max nods, as if that was exactly the right answer. He moves to the side, and one of his men steps forward, placing a gleaming pair of pliers on the table in front of them. Turnier’s screams grow louder, more desperate, but Max simply gestures to one of the guards.

“Gag him,” he orders.

The guard nods, shoving a rag into Turnier’s mouth to stifle his cries. The professor writhes in his chair, his face contorting with panic, but there’s nowhere to go, no one coming to save him.

Max picks up the pliers, turning them over in his hand, his eyes cold and detached as he tests their weight. He looks at Charles. “Do you want the honors, or should I?”

Charles’ lips twist into a grim smile, and he steps forward, taking the pliers from Max without hesitation. “I’ve got it.”

Turnier’s muffled screams are nothing more than background noise now, a pathetic, meaningless sound that neither man pays much attention to. Charles leans down, grabbing Turnier by the jaw and forcing his mouth open, the gag now drenched with the professor’s tears and saliva. He positions the pliers inside the professor’s mouth, gripping his tongue with merciless precision.

Turnier’s eyes roll back in his head, his body jerking violently against the ropes. Charles pauses, glancing over at Max, who watches with a cool, detached expression.

“Do it,” Max says, his voice calm.

And Charles does. The sound of the tongue being ripped from Turnier’s mouth is wet, violent, and final. Blood gushes from the professor’s mouth as he slumps forward, his body sagging in the chair as he groans in pain, the gag doing little to mask the wet, gurgling sounds of his suffering.

Charles tosses the bloodied piece of flesh to the floor, wiping his hands on a handkerchief one of Max’s men offers him. He looks down at the professor, disgust evident in his eyes.

“Not so smug now, are you?” Charles mutters, stepping back as Max approaches again.

Max crouches down, staring at Turnier, who can barely keep his head up. “We’re not done,” Max says softly, his voice chilling in its softness. “You hurt her. You wanted to destroy her life, her future. Now we’re going to make sure you never hurt anyone again.”

He motions to the guard once more. “Strip him.”

The men don’t hesitate. They move quickly, cutting away Turnier’s clothes until he’s bare, his body trembling in the cold air of the warehouse. Max nods to Charles, who steps forward, his eyes dark with satisfaction. He picks up a blade this time — small, sharp, efficient.

Without a word, Charles steps forward and swings the knife with brutal precision. The scream that comes from Turnier’s throat — guttural, primal, filled with the pain of someone who knows they will never be whole again — echoes through the empty warehouse.

Max watches impassively as the professor collapses in on himself, blood pooling beneath the chair, his sobs now nothing more than broken gasps. He kneels again, leaning in close, his face calm, his voice quiet.

“If you ever thought you were untouchable, I hope tonight has taught you otherwise. You will never speak again. You will never harm another woman again. You will spend the rest of your life as a reminder of what happens when you cross someone who’s mine.”

Max stands up, looking at Charles. “Make sure he’s cleaned up. Dump him where someone will find him. Let him explain to the world what happened without his tongue.”

Charles nods, his chest still heaving with anger, but he knows it’s over. Turnier’s life is ruined. He’ll live, but barely. And the fear will stay with him forever.

Max takes one last look at the professor, broken and bleeding, before turning to leave. His voice, cold and resolute, echoes in the warehouse as he walks away.

“No one touches her. Ever.”

***

The next day, you walk into the lecture hall with your usual sense of dread. Every step feels heavier than the last, the weight of what happened with Professor Turnier pressing down on you like a lead blanket. Even though Charles assured you everything was handled, you can’t stop the anxious thrum of nerves coursing through you. What if Turnier follows through with his threat? What if he finds some way to make your life hell without you even knowing it? The thoughts circle in your mind like vultures as you make your way to your seat.

The room is already buzzing with the usual chatter of students. You sit down next to Camille, who shoots you a quick smile before returning to scrolling through her phone.

"Are you okay?” She asks absently, still distracted by whatever is on her screen.

You nod, forcing a tight smile. "Yeah, just tired.”

Camille glances at you, her brow furrowing slightly, but she doesn't press it. "Same. This class is killing me. I swear if I have to sit through another one of Turnier’s mind-numbing lectures, I might actually pass out.”

The mention of his name sends a jolt through you, but you manage to keep your expression neutral. The thought of seeing him, of facing him after what happened, makes your stomach twist. You wonder if he’ll look at you, if he’ll acknowledge anything at all — or if he’ll act like nothing happened. The idea makes your skin crawl.

More students trickle in, filling the room, the noise level rising with laughter and chatter. You find yourself scanning the doorway, bracing yourself for the moment when Turnier walks in with that smug expression, as if he still holds all the power. Your heart hammers in your chest, fingers gripping the edge of your notebook a little too tightly.

But the door swings open, and instead of Turnier, someone else walks in.

There’s an immediate hush that falls over the room, the shift so sudden it feels like the air has been sucked out of the space. The new professor strides in confidently, carrying a few books under one arm and glancing briefly at the rows of students. He looks like he belongs in an entirely different world — a man in his mid-40s, tall, with salt-and-pepper hair and sharp, intelligent eyes. He wears a tailored suit, but his demeanor is far more relaxed than Turnier’s ever was.

He sets his things down on the desk at the front of the room, and for a moment, no one says a word. Everyone seems to be waiting for some kind of explanation, the tension palpable as the professor faces the class.

“Good morning, everyone,” he says, his voice calm, clear, and authoritative. “I’m Professor Mathieu, and I’ll be taking over for the remainder of the semester.”

You feel the shift in the room as everyone processes what he’s just said. Whispers immediately break out among the students, confused murmurs of “What happened to Turnier?” and “Did anyone know about this?” ripple through the lecture hall. Your heart skips a beat, and you sit up straighter, shock momentarily pushing the anxiety aside.

Camille leans in toward you, her voice a hushed whisper. “Did you hear that? What do you think happened to Turnier?”

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to keep your expression neutral. “No idea,” you say quietly, hoping the tremor in your voice isn’t noticeable.

At the front of the room, Professor Mathieu doesn’t seem fazed by the murmurings. He taps his hand on the desk lightly, drawing everyone’s attention back to him.

“I understand you all have questions,” he says, his tone not unkind, “but I’ve been asked to inform you that Professor Turnier is no longer available. As far as the specifics of his departure, that’s not something I can discuss. What I can tell you is that I’ll be taking over for the rest of the semester, and I expect we’ll all be able to adjust without any issues.”

You can feel the tension in the room crackle like static. Some students exchange glances, but no one dares ask any more questions. You, on the other hand, are frozen in your seat. No longer available. The words echo in your head like a distant bell, sending a surge of relief and confusion through you.

Camille nudges you, leaning in closer. “Do you think he got fired?” She whispers.

You shrug, keeping your voice low. “Maybe. I mean, it’s weird that we didn’t hear anything about it.”

“Super weird,” she agrees, still watching the new professor with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. “I wonder what he did.”

The same question nags at you, but for an entirely different reason. You think of Charles, his words from last night still fresh in your mind: I’ll take care of it. He won’t hurt you ever again. You wonder what exactly he meant by that. Clearly, Turnier isn’t coming back, but what happened to him?

Professor Mathieu opens a folder on the desk and begins to speak, pulling your attention back to the front of the room. “Now, as I said, we’ll be continuing with the curriculum as planned, but I’ll be implementing some changes to the structure of the course. We’ll focus less on rigid theory and more on practical application, which I believe will be more engaging for all of you.”

The shift in focus seems to settle the room slightly. The murmurs die down as he moves into his lecture, his voice smooth and confident. But even as the class starts, you can’t shake the feeling of something monumental having shifted.

You’re barely paying attention as Professor Mathieu drones on about diplomatic history and the complexities of statecraft. Your mind is somewhere else, replaying the events of last night, the relief you felt when Charles held you close and promised to make things right. You glance at the students around you. They have no idea, no inkling of what almost happened. What could have happened.

Suddenly, you feel Camille nudge your arm. You blink and realize you’ve zoned out completely.

“Are you okay?” Camille whispers, her voice laced with concern. “You look … spaced out.”

You offer her a small smile, though you know it doesn’t reach your eyes. “Yeah, just tired, I guess.”

Camille studies you for a second, clearly not convinced, but she drops it. “Well, this is going to be an interesting semester,” she says, her voice light, but there’s an edge to it. “I mean, Turnier just disappearing like that? Something’s gotta be up.”

You glance over at her, trying to play it cool. “Maybe he retired early or something.”

“Yeah, but no one knew? No announcement, nothing? Feels sketchy.”

You don’t respond, just nodding along as you turn your attention back to the new professor, who’s already deep into his lecture. But as the minutes tick by, you can’t help the growing sense of unease in your chest. There’s relief, sure — Turnier’s gone. But the fact that it happened so suddenly, so completely, leaves you with more questions than answers. What did Charles and Max do?

Camille shifts beside you, flipping through her notes and scribbling things down. “At least the new guy seems decent,” she mutters. “Way better than Turnier.”

You nod, though your mind is elsewhere. You can barely focus on the lecture, your thoughts spinning like a whirlpool. Is Turnier really gone for good? Did Charles and Max … do something more than just get him fired? You remember Max’s cold eyes, the way he’d told you once, in passing, that he’d do anything for family. That no one crossed him or those he cared about without consequences.

What kind of consequences?

Your phone buzzes in your lap, pulling you from your thoughts. You glance down discreetly and see a message from Charles.

Everything’s taken care of. You’re safe.

You stare at the words for a long moment, a chill running down your spine. Safe. The word should make you feel better, but somehow, it only deepens the mystery.

You glance around the lecture hall again. Everyone else is oblivious, focused on their notes, their laptops, their whispering conversations about the sudden change in professors. But you know something they don’t. You know that the world you live in is a lot more dangerous than they realize.

***

When you step out of the building, the afternoon sun blinding for a second, you blink to adjust. Students mill around the campus courtyard, some gathered in groups, others rushing to their next class. You fish your car keys out of your bag, already mentally going over what you’ll make for dinner tonight, but as you approach the edge of the steps, you stop dead in your tracks.

Max is there.

Leaning casually against the sleek, charcoal body of his Aston Martin Valkyrie, arms crossed, aviators shielding his eyes. The car is a thing of beauty — sleek lines and aggressive angles, a car that demands attention. And it’s getting it. You can feel the stares from all around. Students have slowed their pace, eyes darting between Max and you. Whispers start spreading through the crowd like wildfire, curious and speculative.

You swallow hard, suddenly hyper-aware of the way your pulse picks up. It’s not unusual for Max to turn heads, but seeing him here, on campus, waiting for you, feels like something else entirely. He’s never been the type to drop by unannounced — especially not in a setting like this.

You step down from the stairs, feeling like every pair of eyes is following you, but your focus is on Max. His casual confidence is unnerving, but then again, it always has been. There’s something about the way he carries himself, like he’s always in control, that makes it hard to breathe around him sometimes.

“Max?” You call out, a mix of confusion and concern in your voice. “What are you doing here?”

He pushes off the car and takes off his sunglasses, revealing those sharp, blue eyes of his, which are locked entirely on you. He walks toward you with a swagger that’s impossible to miss, as if he owns every inch of space he moves through.

“I’m here to pick you up,” he says smoothly, voice low but with a hint of amusement.

You look over your shoulder, towards the student parking lot. “But I drove here,” you protest, feeling a little ridiculous saying it aloud. You motion vaguely in the direction of your car. “I’m fine. I can-”

Max cuts you off with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ll have someone pick it up and drive it back to your place. You’re coming with me.”

You hesitate, feeling the weight of the dozens of gazes on you. Max doesn���t seem to care about the attention at all, which isn’t surprising. He’s used to it. But the thought of climbing into his car, with what feels like half the campus watching, sends a jolt of nervous energy through you.

“Max, I-” you start, but he opens the passenger door with a casual, almost commanding gesture.

“Get in,” he says, his tone leaving little room for argument.

You glance around, noticing some of your classmates openly gawking at the scene. You feel a flush creep up your neck, but there’s no way out of this without causing even more of a spectacle. With a sigh, you lower your head slightly and step forward, sliding into the seat of the Valkyrie. The leather is cool against your skin, the interior smelling of something clean and faintly masculine. Max shuts the door behind you and walks around to the driver’s side, slipping in with fluid grace.

As soon as the door closes, the low hum of the engine fills the air, and Max glances over at you. “Seatbelt,” he says quietly, waiting until you click it in place before pulling away from the curb.

You can’t bring yourself to look out the window as the car glides through campus. You know everyone’s watching. You can almost feel the collective curiosity, the questions that will follow this moment — why is Max picking you up? What’s your relationship? The ride is smooth, the low rumble of the engine making it feel like you’re floating. Max doesn’t speak, and neither do you, but the silence is charged with something unsaid, heavy in the space between you.

It’s not until you’re out of campus, away from the prying eyes, that you risk a glance at him. His jaw is set, eyes focused on the road ahead, his hands relaxed on the wheel. There’s something about the way he drives — calm, controlled, like he’s in command of everything around him.

You chew on your bottom lip, unsure of how to ask the question that’s been gnawing at you since this morning. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you break the silence, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Did you … did you and Charles have anything to do with Turnier being replaced?”

Max doesn’t answer right away. His fingers flex on the steering wheel, his gaze still straight ahead, but there’s a flicker of something dark in his eyes, something cold and calculating. For a moment, you think he might brush off the question, but then he exhales through his nose, a short, humorless sound.

“We took care of it,” he says, his voice firm, unflinching. There’s a note of pride in it, too, a quiet sort of satisfaction.

You feel a shiver run down your spine. “What … what did you do?” You ask, even though you’re not sure you want to know the answer.

Max glances at you, his gaze steady, unyielding. “Turnier won’t be taking advantage of anyone else. Ever again.”

The words hang in the air between you, heavy with implication. You stare at him, trying to process what he’s just said. There’s something final in his tone, something that makes your chest tighten with a mixture of relief and dread.

You swallow hard, turning your gaze back to the road. The tension in the car is palpable now, thick and unspoken. You know better than to push for more details. Max and Charles operate in a world where consequences are swift and absolute. You don’t need to ask what they did to Turnier. The important thing is that he’s gone. He can’t hurt you anymore.

But the weight of that realization — of what Max and Charles might have done — sits heavily in your stomach. You glance at Max again, trying to find something in his expression that might offer more reassurance, but his face is unreadable.

“So that’s it?” You ask, your voice small. “It’s over?”

Max nods, a slight tilt of his head. “It’s over.”

You should feel relieved. You should feel grateful. But there’s something unsettling about how easily they made Turnier disappear. About how calmly Max talks about it, like it’s just another business transaction.

The car continues to glide down the road, and for a while, neither of you speaks. You’re lost in your thoughts, your fingers fiddling with the hem of your shirt. The reality of it all is sinking in now — Turnier’s gone. He’s not coming back. But at what cost?

You steal another glance at Max, wondering how much he’s willing to do for you. For Charles. For family.

“Thank you,” you say softly, the words barely audible.

Max doesn’t respond immediately. He keeps his eyes on the road, his expression unreadable. But then, after a moment, he nods once, almost imperceptibly.

“Anything for you,” he says, his voice low and quiet. But there’s a weight to his words, a promise that hangs between you like a silent vow.

You don’t know how to respond, so you just sit there, the sound of the engine filling the silence. Part of you wants to ask more questions, to understand what exactly Max did. But the other part of you — the part that knows how dangerous his world is — tells you to leave it alone.

So you do. You sit back in your seat, watching the city blur by outside the window, and try to focus on the fact that, for now, you’re safe.

***

Max pulls the Valkyrie into the underground garage of his building, and the moment you step out, the cool air hits your skin, grounding you again. The weight of the day, of everything that’s happened, still presses on your chest. You follow Max through the private elevator, feeling the tension rise the higher you go. When the elevator doors slide open, revealing Max’s penthouse, the warm glow of the lights and the familiar scent of home greet you.

Charles is waiting.

He stands by the window, a drink in hand, but the moment he sees you and Max step in, his expression softens. He strides over, his eyes searching your face, concern etched in every line of his posture.

"How’re you holding up?” Charles asks gently, wrapping you in a brief but firm hug.

You exhale into his embrace, grateful for the comfort. "I’m … better,” you admit, your voice steadier than you expect. But the presence of both men, these two constants in your life, makes everything feel a little less overwhelming.

Charles glances between you and Max as he steps back, something flickering in his eyes. “Good. You’re in safe hands.” The way he says it, like there’s something more behind the words, makes your heart skip a beat.

Max doesn’t say anything. He just stands there, tall and imposing, his gaze fixed on you. You feel the weight of it, the intensity, and it’s making you too aware of everything — the closeness of him, the way his arm brushes against yours as you move toward the dining table, the way your pulse quickens every time he looks at you.

The table is already set — simple but elegant. You all sit, and Charles takes the head of the table, a casual smirk tugging at his lips as Max takes the seat opposite you. The food is rich and fragrant, the kind of meal that should make your mouth water, but you’re finding it hard to focus on anything other than the electricity buzzing in the air between you and Max.

The dinner conversation starts out light. Charles talks about work, a new deal he’s working on, and you try to engage, but your mind keeps drifting back to Max. His presence is impossible to ignore, especially when you feel his eyes on you. Every time you steal a glance at him, he’s already looking at you, like he’s been watching you the whole time.

And he has been watching you.

It’s not subtle, the way Max’s eyes linger on you, the way his gaze softens whenever you speak, like he’s memorizing every word. You try not to read too much into it — this is just Max being Max, right? He’s always been protective, always looked out for you. But tonight … there’s something else in the way he looks at you, something deeper, more intense.

You take a bite of your food, trying to focus on anything other than the heat creeping up your neck. But every time you dare to look back at Max, you catch his gaze, and your heart stutters in your chest. There’s a softness in his eyes, something that makes your breath hitch, and you have to look away before it overwhelms you.

Charles, ever the observer, doesn’t miss a thing. He watches the silent exchange between the two of you for a good part of the meal, his eyes flicking between you and Max like he’s piecing together a puzzle. His lips quirk up in a knowing smile, but he doesn’t say anything. Not yet.

It’s halfway through the meal when the silence stretches a little too long, the weight of the unspoken tension thick in the air. You keep your eyes on your plate, your hand trembling slightly as you reach for your water glass. Max hasn’t said a word in what feels like forever, but his gaze — God, you can feel it like a physical touch.

And then, just when the tension feels unbearable, Charles leans back in his chair, placing his utensils down with an exaggerated clatter, and clears his throat dramatically.

"Alright,” he says, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. "This has been fun and all, but I’ve had enough of watching you two make heart eyes at each other across the table.”

Your fork freezes midway to your mouth. You glance up, eyes wide, and catch Max’s expression — a mix of surprise and amusement flickering across his face.

Charles grins, entirely too pleased with himself. "Seriously,” he continues, shaking his head in mock exasperation. "I mean, it’s cute, don’t get me wrong. But how long are you two gonna keep pretending there’s nothing going on here?”

Your face burns, and you open your mouth to protest, but nothing comes out. You don’t even know what you’d say if you could. Deny it? Laugh it off? You’re not even sure what this is, let alone how to explain it.

Max doesn’t flinch. He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms, and raises an eyebrow at Charles. "Heart eyes?” He repeats, his tone casual but with a hint of a challenge.

Charles smirks, not backing down. "You heard me. I’ve been sitting here watching you two eye each other like you’re the only people in the room. I swear, it’s exhausting.” He looks at you then, his eyes softening slightly. "And for the record, there’s no one in this world I’d trust more with my sister than you, Max.”

Your heart skips a beat. The weight of Charles’ words sinks in, heavy and full of meaning. Max doesn’t react immediately, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes, something that makes your breath catch.

Charles leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, his grin widening. "So, why don’t you two put us all out of our misery and just kiss already?”

The room goes still. You can’t breathe. You glance at Max, your heart racing, and for a split second, you think maybe he’ll laugh it off, that this is just Charles being Charles, stirring the pot for his own amusement.

But Max doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t hesitate. His eyes lock onto yours, intense and unwavering, and before you can even process what’s happening, he stands up, his chair scraping against the floor as he moves.

The next thing you know, Max is in front of you, and without a word, without a second of doubt, he reaches across the table, his hands sliding under your arms. He pulls you out of your seat with such ease, like you weigh nothing, and before you can even register it, you’re being tugged across the table toward him.

Your breath hitches, and your hands instinctively find his shoulders as he pulls you closer. His grip is firm but gentle, and his face is just inches from yours now, his eyes dark with something you’ve never quite seen before.

And then, with a slight tilt of his head, Max closes the distance.

His lips press against yours, warm and soft, and the world around you melts away. Everything goes quiet, every sound, every thought, drowned out by the feel of his mouth on yours. It’s a slow, deliberate kiss, like he’s savoring every second, and your heart pounds so hard you’re sure he can feel it through your chest.

You can feel his hands tighten on your waist, pulling you closer, and you melt into him, your fingers tangling in his shirt as you kiss him back. The taste of him, the warmth of his skin — it’s all consuming, overwhelming in the best possible way.

Charles lets out a low whistle from across the room, but you barely register it. All you can think about is Max, the way he’s holding you, the way his lips move against yours like he’s wanted this for a long time.

“Well,” Charles says, breaking the moment with a grin, “about damn time.”

Max’s breath lingers warm against your lips, and for a moment, the world feels suspended — just you and him, the faint hum of the city outside, the quiet flicker of candlelight on the table. His hands tighten slightly on your waist, pulling you even closer, and the electricity between you ignites into something undeniable.

You kiss him again, harder this time, a soft gasp escaping your lips as his hand slides up your back. Your fingers tangle in his hair, and there’s an intensity in the way he’s holding you, as though he’s been waiting for this moment for years. It’s a slow burn at first, but then something shifts, the heat between you building until you feel like you might explode if you’re not closer, if you can’t feel more of him.

Max responds in kind, his grip on you firm, and his lips more insistent. You forget where you are, lost in the sensation of him — the taste of his mouth, the feel of his body pressed against yours. It’s like nothing else exists, nothing else matters.

But then, from across the table, Charles clears his throat loudly.

You pull back slightly, breathless, and Max’s eyes flash with frustration, as if he’s annoyed at being interrupted. You glance over at Charles, who’s sitting with his arms crossed, one eyebrow raised in amusement, but his expression is serious.

“Alright, alright,” Charles says, his voice calm but firm, like he’s trying to keep the situation from spiraling. “That’s enough for now.”

Max shoots him a look, clearly not on the same page, but Charles just shakes his head.

“Nope, not happening,” Charles continues, pointing between the two of you. “Nothing — and I mean nothing — gets any further without a ring.”

A heavy silence falls over the room. You blink, trying to process what Charles just said. You and Max are both frozen, still tangled together, and you can feel the heat rising in your cheeks. You expect Max to say something — to push back, to laugh it off — but instead, he lets go of your waist and steps back, his jaw tight.

Without a word, Max turns on his heel and walks out of the dining room.

You’re left standing there, stunned, your heart racing for a whole new reason. “What … just happened?” You murmur, looking at Charles for some kind of explanation.

Charles looks just as confused as you feel, his eyes following Max as he leaves the room. “I don’t know,” he admits, his brow furrowed. “I didn’t think he’d-”

Before he can finish his sentence, Max strides back into the room, something small and familiar in his hand. Your eyes widen when you realize it’s a jewelry box. The dark velvet catches the low light, and it’s clear from the way Max holds it that this isn’t a last-minute idea.

He stops in front of you, his expression steady, but there’s a glimmer of something in his eyes — something raw and vulnerable. He meets your gaze, and his voice is low, serious when he speaks.

"Good thing,” Max says, flipping open the box with a flick of his thumb, revealing a dazzling diamond nestled in the center, "I’ve had this since the first time I saw you. Years ago.”

Your heart stops. Literally, you can feel it stutter in your chest as the words sink in.

“What?” The word escapes your lips in a whisper, your gaze darting from the ring to Max’s face, trying to understand if this is real, if you’re not imagining the whole thing.

Max holds your gaze, his eyes unwavering. “I knew,” he says simply, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I knew from the first moment I met you, there was no one else. You were it for me.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and for a moment, you can’t think. You can’t speak. The room feels smaller, quieter, like the entire world has narrowed down to just this — the man standing in front of you, the ring in his hand, the weight of what he’s saying.

Charles, who had been watching the whole scene with a mixture of amusement and curiosity, now leans back in his chair, crossing his arms with a satisfied smirk. “Well, that escalated quickly.”

Max doesn’t take his eyes off you. “I’ve been waiting,” he admits, his voice soft but certain. “Waiting for the right time. But Charles is right. There’s no point in pretending anymore.”

Your chest tightens. You’ve always known there was something between you and Max, something unspoken, something simmering beneath the surface. But you never expected this — never expected him to have felt it for so long, to have been carrying this weight of certainty with him all this time.

The ring sparkles in the dim light, beautiful and overwhelming, and your mind races, trying to catch up with your heart.

“You’ve had that … since we met?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Max nods once, his gaze unwavering. “Since the day Charles introduced us,” he says, his voice low, gravelly. “I knew then. And I’ve kept it, waiting for you to feel the same. I didn’t want to rush you, didn’t want to push you into something you weren’t ready for.”

There’s a pause, the silence between you both filled with a thousand unsaid things.

Charles clears his throat, the amusement in his voice more pronounced now. “So, are we going to do this properly, or what? You’ve got the ring. She’s standing right there.”

You shoot Charles a look, but you can’t help the small, nervous laugh that escapes your lips. “You’re really ruining the moment, you know that?”

Charles shrugs. “Just trying to help.”

Max smirks, and for a brief second, you see the playful edge return to his expression. But then his eyes are back on you, serious, and the weight of what’s happening comes crashing down again.

He steps closer, close enough that you can feel the heat of him, his presence filling up the space around you. “I’ve loved you for a long time,” Max murmurs, his voice softer now, but no less intense. “And I’ll keep loving you for the rest of my life. If you’ll have me.”

You blink back the sudden wave of emotion that threatens to spill over. You never imagined that this moment — this moment — would feel so natural, so right.

“I don’t-” you start, your voice catching, but then you take a deep breath and try again. “I don’t know what to say.”

Max’s smile softens, and he takes your hand, pressing the small jewelry box into your palm. “Say yes,” he whispers.

Your heart pounds in your chest, and for a moment, you just stand there, staring up at him, trying to process the whirlwind of emotions racing through you. But then you look into his eyes — those dark, steady eyes that have always been there for you, always protective, always his — and the answer is clear.

“Yes,” you whisper, barely able to get the word out past the lump in your throat. “Yes, Max.”

Max’s face breaks into a smile, something soft and relieved, and before you can say another word, he’s pulling you into his arms, kissing you with a fervor that leaves you breathless all over again.

Charles lets out a low whistle from the other side of the table, his voice laced with humor. “Well, it’s about damn time.”

Max doesn’t pull away this time. He just kisses you deeper, one hand cupping your face, the other pressing the ring box into your hand like it’s the most precious thing in the world. And to him, you know it is.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead resting against yours, he grins. “Guess you’re stuck with me now.”

You laugh, your heart soaring, and whisper back, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

***

Max pulls the car up to the curb in front of the university, his sleek Valkyrie drawing curious stares from students lingering outside the building. You’re still adjusting to the events of the night before — the suddenness of it all, the weight of the engagement ring now resting on your finger. It feels unreal, like you’re caught in some strange but thrilling dream.

He gets out of the car first, walking around to open the door for you. His hand extends toward you, a protective gesture, and you take it without hesitation. The moment you’re standing, Max pulls you into his arms and kisses you, slow and deliberate, as if he’s making sure the entire campus knows that you’re his.

There’s a pause when he pulls away, his hand still resting on your lower back. “You sure you don’t want me to stick around? Make sure no one bothers you?”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “I’ll be fine. I promise.”

Max gives you one last look, his brow furrowed slightly with concern, but then he steps back and nods. “Alright. Call me if you need anything.”

With that, you turn toward the building, the weight of his gaze on your back as you walk away. Your heart is still racing from the kiss, and you know you’re about to walk into a storm of questions — your friends haven’t even had time to process everything that happened yesterday.

Sure enough, the second you’re inside the courtyard, you hear voices calling your name. You look up to see a group of your classmates, their eyes wide, jaws practically on the floor. They surround you like a pack of excited reporters, eager to get the scoop.

“Who was that?” Katie asks, her eyes still fixed on the spot where Max’s car had been. “And please don’t tell me that’s the same guy who picked you up yesterday. Because holy shit, girl.”

Peter, arms crossed, steps closer, squinting at you with a mix of amusement and suspicion. “Is that why you’ve been acting weird lately? You’re seeing someone?”

You can’t help but smile, feeling the heat rising in your cheeks. “Uh, yeah,” you say, holding up your left hand to show the ring. “That’s Max … my fiancé.”

The group collectively gasps, the air around you suddenly filled with a flurry of shocked exclamations.

“Fiancé?” Carla nearly shrieks, grabbing your hand to inspect the ring up close. “Excuse me? Fiancé? How the hell did we not know about this?”

Katie, clearly still processing, stares at you with wide eyes. “You mean to tell us you’ve been engaged this whole time and didn’t even mention it?”

You laugh nervously, knowing what’s coming. “No, no, it’s not like that. It’s … it just happened. Yesterday.”

The shocked silence that follows your words is almost comical. They all exchange glances, trying to make sense of what you’ve just said.

“Yesterday?” Peter echoes, looking at you like you’ve lost your mind. “You mean you got engaged yesterday?”

You nod, feeling the pressure of their disbelief. “Yeah. Yesterday.”

“And you’ve been seeing this Max guy for how long exactly?” Carla, her arms crossed, eyes skeptical.

You hesitate, knowing the answer is going to send them into another round of questioning. “Uh … officially? One day.”

The shock hits them all at once. They’re staring at you like you’ve just announced that you’re moving to Mars. The disbelief is palpable, and you can practically hear their minds racing.

“One day?” Katie finally blurts out, her eyes wide with disbelief. “You got engaged after one day of being together? Are you serious right now?”

Carla, clearly concerned, steps forward and lowers her voice, like she’s trying to be gentle. “Y/N, I love you, but … are you sure about this? One day? That’s … I mean, that’s crazy.”

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of their judgment, but you stand your ground. “Look,” you say firmly, meeting each of their gazes in turn. “I know it sounds insane. But we’ve known each other for years. Max is Charles’ best friend. We’ve been in each other’s lives for so long, and … we’ve loved each other for a long time. We just didn’t make it official until now.”

Your friends exchange glances again, clearly unsure of how to react. They’re still in shock, still processing, but you can tell they’re trying to understand.

“Okay, but …” Peter starts, struggling to find the right words. “How did you go from ‘just friends’ to engaged overnight?”

You laugh, the memory of last night flooding back, and you shrug. “It wasn’t exactly overnight. It’s been building for a while. We’ve both known how we felt, but neither of us acted on it. And then … well, things happened, and we just decided to stop pretending.”

There’s a long pause as your friends take that in, their faces softening a little. You can see the concern in their eyes, but also a flicker of understanding.

“So … you’ve loved him for years,” Katie finally says, slowly nodding. “And he’s loved you for years. But you just made it official now?”

You nod, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. “Exactly. It might seem fast, but we’ve known this was coming for a long time. We just didn’t realize it until now.”

Your friends are quiet for a moment, and then Carla sighs, throwing her hands up in the air. “Okay, fine. I still think it’s crazy, but … if you’re happy, then I’m happy for you.”

Peter chimes in, smiling a little. “I mean, the ring is gorgeous. And that car? Damn.”

There’s a ripple of laughter through the group, and you feel a sense of relief wash over you. They’re not completely on board yet, but they’re starting to come around.

“So, when’s the wedding?” Katie teases, nudging you playfully. “If you’re moving this fast, I’m assuming it’s next week?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “We haven’t even talked about that yet. It’s still sinking in for both of us.”

Carla grins. “Well, I guess we’ll have to start dress shopping soon. It’s probably going to be some extravagant, over-the-top wedding.”

You can’t help but smile at the thought, your heart fluttering. “I don’t know about that. But … yeah, maybe.”

They laugh again, and you can feel the tension easing. The questions aren’t completely gone, but they’re starting to trust that you know what you’re doing. They’re your friends, after all — they want you to be happy, even if they don’t fully understand how this all happened so fast.

As you start walking toward the lecture hall together, Peter loops his arm through yours. “Alright, tell us everything. How did he propose? And how did we not know you were in love with him this whole time?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “It’s a long story …”

“Well, we’ve got time,” Katie says with a grin. “You can fill us in after class. We need details.”

As you all head inside, you glance down at the ring on your finger, the weight of it feeling more natural with every passing minute. It’s strange how quickly everything has changed, but it also feels like it’s been a long time coming. Like this was always where you were meant to end up — with Max, with the man who’s loved you from the start.

And no matter what anyone else thinks, you know in your heart that this is right. You and Max may have only made things official yesterday, but the love between you has been there all along, quietly waiting for the right moment to bloom.

Now, it’s finally your time.

***

Class lets out early today. You’re grateful for the extra time, but it’s a bit inconvenient — Max isn’t supposed to pick you up for another half hour. Standing outside the lecture hall, you scan the sea of students milling around, watching them scatter toward their cars or the nearby caf��.

You check your phone. No messages. It’s still too early for Max to be on his way, so you settle on waiting near the steps, trying to enjoy the sun and the slight breeze. You absentmindedly twist the engagement ring around your finger, the cool metal grounding you. The past few days have been a whirlwind, and every time you look at that ring, it still feels surreal. But it also feels like everything is finally falling into place. You belong with Max. You always have.

"Hey.”

The voice cuts through your thoughts. You glance up, blinking in surprise as you see a guy from your class approaching. You recognize him vaguely — one of those people who sits in the back, never really participating in the discussions. You’re pretty sure you’ve never spoken to him before, but now here he is, leaning against the wall near you with a smirk that makes your skin crawl.

“Hi,” you say politely, not wanting to be rude but also not particularly interested in starting a conversation.

He doesn’t take the hint. “I’ve seen you around,” he says, a lazy grin spreading across his face. “You don’t usually hang out here after class. Waiting for someone?”

Your instincts tell you to keep this short. “Yeah, my fiancé. He’s picking me up soon.”

The word fiancé doesn’t seem to deter him. In fact, it seems to spur him on. His eyes flick down to your hand, where the ring gleams in the sunlight, and then back up to your face with a cocky smirk.

“Fiancé, huh?” He steps a little closer, his voice lowering as if trying to be conspiratorial. “That sounds serious. But, I mean, you don’t really seem the settling down type. You sure you wanna tie yourself down so soon?”

You stiffen. “I’m sure,” you reply firmly, shifting your weight and turning your body slightly away from him, hoping he’ll get the message and leave you alone.

But he doesn’t. “Come on, we’ve never really talked, but I’ve seen you around. You’re smart, cool … definitely too interesting to be someone’s fiancée already.” He flashes you what he probably thinks is a charming smile. “What’s the rush?”

You swallow, trying to keep your cool. “There’s no rush. I’m happy. I’m with someone I love, and we’ve been together for a long time.” That’s not entirely true, but it’s not a lie either. It’s not something this guy needs to know, anyway.

Instead of backing off, he leans in closer, a predatory gleam in his eye. “Maybe you don’t know what you’re missing. Just saying, you and I could have some fun.”

You take a step back, feeling your pulse quicken. “I said, I’m in a relationship.”

He shrugs, as if your words are meaningless. “Doesn’t mean we can’t have a good time. What’s the harm in a little flirtation? It’s not like he’d know.”

Your patience snaps. “I’m not interested,” you say more forcefully, taking another step back. “Please leave me alone.”

The guy laughs softly, shaking his head. “Wow, playing hard to get, huh? I get it. You’re probably bored with this fiancé of yours, right? Guys like that, they don’t know how to keep things interesting.”

Before you can respond, you hear the familiar roar of an engine. Relief floods through you as you spot Max’s Valkyrie pulling up to the curb. The second the car comes to a stop, the door swings open, and Max steps out, his eyes immediately locking on you — and the guy standing too close for comfort.

Max takes in the scene in an instant. His entire demeanor changes in the blink of an eye, shifting from calm to deadly. His jaw tightens, his eyes narrowing dangerously as he stalks toward the two of you with purpose.

The guy is oblivious at first, too caught up in his own attempt at charm to notice the approaching storm. “Come on, sweetheart,” he’s saying, his hand moving slightly toward your arm. “Just give me a chance.”

That’s when Max arrives.

Before the guy’s hand can even brush your sleeve, Max grabs him by the shoulder and yanks him backward with enough force to make him stumble. The guy lets out a startled yelp, spinning around to face Max, his expression morphing from confusion to fear the moment he realizes who he’s dealing with.

“Hey, man, I was just-” the guy starts, but Max cuts him off with a low, menacing growl.

“She’s not interested,” Max says, his voice deadly calm. His hand is still gripping the guy’s shoulder, but it looks like he could crush him with that one hand alone. “And you’re going to walk away. Now.”

The guy’s eyes dart between you and Max, clearly weighing his options. He starts to stammer, trying to salvage his bravado. “I-I didn’t mean anything by it, man. Just talking …”

Max’s grip tightens, his knuckles turning white. “You think you can talk to her like that? Disrespect her?” He leans in, his voice dropping to a whisper that’s somehow even more terrifying. “You have no idea who you’re messing with.”

The guy’s bravado crumbles completely. His face pales, and he raises his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright! I’ll go. Jesus …”

Max releases him with a shove, sending the guy stumbling backward. He doesn’t wait around to see what happens next — he turns and practically sprints away, disappearing into the crowd of students.

For a moment, there’s silence. Max watches the guy retreat, his chest heaving with barely restrained fury. Then he turns to you, his expression softening immediately.

“You okay?” His voice is gentle now, a stark contrast to the cold fury he’d just displayed.

You nod, still a little shaken but grateful. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Max steps closer, cupping your face in his hands and scanning your expression for any sign of distress. “If he touched you — if he so much as breathed on you wrong-”

“He didn’t,” you assure him, placing your hands over his. “You got here just in time.”

Max’s eyes flicker with something dark, a protective fire that hasn’t fully extinguished. “Good,” he mutters, pulling you into his arms. He holds you tightly for a moment, as if he needs to reassure himself that you’re safe. “I don’t like anyone looking at you like that.”

You smile softly, wrapping your arms around his waist. “I don’t like it either. But it’s okay now. You’re here.”

Max pulls back just enough to look at you, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “I’m always here. And I’ll never let anything happen to you.”

You nod, leaning into his touch. “I know.”

He kisses you then, right there in front of the university, his lips capturing yours in a slow, possessive kiss that tells everyone watching exactly who you belong to. When he finally pulls away, he presses his forehead to yours, his breath warm against your skin.

“I’ll make sure no one ever bothers you again,” Max murmurs, his voice low but fierce.

You smile up at him, your heart swelling with affection. “I don’t doubt that for a second.”

With one last glance around to make sure the guy is well and truly gone, Max leads you to the car. He opens the door for you, and as you slide into the passenger seat, you can’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of security. Max is always in control, always one step ahead. And you trust him completely.

As Max pulls away from the curb, his hand finds yours, resting between the two of you. You don’t need to say anything — the silence between you is comfortable, filled with the unspoken promise that no matter what happens, you’ll face it together.

***

After dinner, the soft clatter of cutlery fades into the background as you start clearing the plates. The dim light from the chandelier casts a golden glow over the dining room, making the atmosphere feel intimate, heavy with something unspoken. Max leans back in his chair, watching you with an intensity that makes your pulse quicken.

You stack the plates, trying to focus on the mundane task, but you can feel his eyes on you, tracking every movement. Your breath hitches slightly as you turn toward him, plates in hand, and smile nervously.

"Do you want dessert?” You ask, your voice light, though your heartbeat pounds in your ears.

Max’s gaze darkens, his lips curling into a slow, wicked smile that sends shivers down your spine. “The only dessert I want,” he says, voice low and gravelly, “is right in front of me.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks as his meaning sinks in. You freeze, suddenly hyper-aware of how close he is, the way his eyes travel down your body like he’s already undressing you in his mind. Your hands tremble as you put the plates back down on the table, your thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind.

He doesn’t move from his seat, but there’s a tension in the air, pulling you toward him as if he’s some magnetic force you can’t resist. “Come here,” he says softly, but it’s not a request. It’s a command.

You hesitate for a second, unsure if you can even make your legs move, but then your feet carry you around the table, closer to him. By the time you’re standing in front of Max, your knees feel weak. His eyes stay locked on yours, full of heat and possession.

When you’re within reach, Max takes your hand, pulling you gently toward him. You end up standing between his legs, feeling the heat of his body seep through his clothes, and all at once, your breath catches. His hand slides up the back of your thigh, slow and deliberate, sending a thrill of anticipation shooting through you.

Max’s other hand rests on your waist, tugging you closer until you’re pressed against him. “You know,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your stomach through your dress, “I’ve been patient with you. So, so patient.”

Your hands find his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his shirt to steady yourself. “Max …”

He looks up at you, his eyes half-lidded but full of that same intensity. "Tell me something,” he says, his tone suddenly shifting, darker, more dangerous. “Has anyone else ever touched you?”

You blink, taken aback by the question. You feel your face heat up again, your pulse racing as his words sink in. “What?” You stammer, barely able to string two words together under the weight of his gaze.

Max’s hand tightens slightly on your thigh, his thumb tracing small circles that send jolts of electricity through you. “I asked,” he says softly but firmly, “if another man has ever touched you.”

The meaning of his question slams into you, and your throat goes dry. Your heart feels like it’s going to beat right out of your chest. You try to find your voice, but it comes out barely above a whisper. “No … no one.”

A satisfied smile spreads across Max’s face as he tugs you even closer, his hands sliding up your waist. His voice is a low, rumbling growl. “Good. Because if they had, I would’ve tracked down every single one of them.” He pauses, eyes gleaming with dark intent. “And made sure they didn’t have hands to touch anyone with again.”

Your breath catches at the promise in his voice, a possessive edge that sends a delicious shiver down your spine. You know Max means every word. There’s no doubt in your mind that if anyone had dared to cross that line, he would’ve hunted them down, one by one. His protection is absolute, as is his desire.

You shake your head, barely able to focus on anything but the way his hands feel on your skin, the way his words wrap around you like a cocoon. “No one’s ever touched me like that,” you whisper again, more firmly this time. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Max’s eyes darken further, his grip tightening on your hips. He pulls you down until you’re sitting on his lap, straddling him, your dress bunching up around your thighs. His hands settle on your waist, holding you in place. “That’s right,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your neck. “Because you’re mine.”

The words send a thrill straight through you, and you can feel the heat pooling low in your belly. Your body reacts to his touch, to the way his hands move with deliberate slowness, like he’s savoring every second. His lips trail up your throat, pressing kisses that make your head spin.

You close your eyes, your breathing ragged as you let yourself sink into the moment, into him. Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, and he groans softly in response, his grip on you tightening.

“Max …” you whisper, barely able to form coherent thoughts with the way he’s touching you, the way he’s making you feel.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes blazing with desire and something deeper — something that makes your heart pound harder in your chest. “You’re mine,” he says again, his voice low and commanding. “And no one else will ever touch you. No one else will ever have you.”

You nod, breathless, and he smirks, his thumb brushing over your lower lip.

Before you can react, Max leans in and captures your mouth in a searing kiss, his hands roaming over your body as if he can’t get enough. The kiss is heated, intense, filled with all the pent-up emotion that’s been building between the two of you since that first moment you laid eyes on each other.

His hands slide down your back, pulling you impossibly closer as his mouth moves against yours with urgency. Every nerve in your body feels like it’s on fire, and you can’t help but respond to him, your hands gripping his shirt tightly as if you’re afraid to let go.

The world outside fades away. There’s only Max — his touch, his kiss, his possessiveness, and the way he makes you feel like you’re the center of his universe.

He pulls back, breathless but grinning like he’s won a prize, “No one will ever doubt that again.”

Max’s lips hover over yours, his breath warm and steady, igniting something deep within. He shifts you slightly in his lap, adjusting his hold, and then, with deliberate slowness, his mouth trails down, leaving a scorching path along your jawline and down your neck. His movements are unhurried, savoring every inch of skin like he has all the time in the world.

You can feel your pulse pounding under his lips as he kisses lower, the anticipation building with every second. Max pauses, his mouth just inches from the neckline of your dress, his hands firm on your waist. His eyes flick up to meet yours, a dark, hungry glint in them.

“Mine,” he murmurs softly, the single word vibrating against your skin. Then, without warning, his teeth graze lightly over the delicate fabric of your dress, right where your hardened nipple is pressing through. The sensation is startling, electric — enough to make you gasp and arch involuntarily.

A low, approving sound rumbles from Max’s chest as he lightly takes the hardened bud between his teeth, through the fabric, teasing and testing. His gaze stays locked on yours, watching every reaction, every twitch of your body. He’s not just touching you — he’s learning you, reading you, knowing exactly what makes you shiver and tremble beneath his hands.

You bite your lip, a soft moan slipping out despite your best efforts to hold it back. Your fingers clutch the back of his neck, tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. Max hums in satisfaction, his tongue flicking out briefly to wet the fabric, making it cling to your skin. The sensation is maddening, a mix of pain and pleasure that leaves you breathless.

“Tell me,” he murmurs against you, his voice rough and low, “how long have you wanted this?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, his mouth closing over your covered nipple once more, applying just enough pressure to make your breath hitch. “Tell me how long you’ve been dreaming of me doing this to you, touching you like this.”

You swallow hard, trying to think past the haze of desire clouding your thoughts. “Max, I-” Words are impossible when he’s touching you like this, when his lips are doing things to your body that make your thoughts scatter in every direction.

He growls softly, releasing your nipple with a final, gentle tug of his teeth that makes your whole body jolt. “Answer me,” he demands, his hands slipping under your dress, pushing it higher until the cool air of the room brushes against your bare thighs. “How long?”

The urgency in his voice, the possessiveness — it’s overwhelming. Your breathing comes in shallow pants as you try to form a coherent thought, try to answer him. “Since … since the first day we met,” you finally manage to whisper, your voice trembling with need.

Max’s hands pause on your thighs, his grip tightening. His eyes blaze with something fierce, something primal. “The first day?” He repeats, his voice a low, dangerous whisper, as if he’s savoring the admission. “You mean to tell me you’ve wanted me like this-” his hands slide up, pushing the hem of your dress higher, exposing more of your skin “-for years?”

You nod, helpless under his gaze, under his touch. “Yes … always …”

A dark, satisfied smile curls his lips. “And I’ve waited,” he murmurs, almost to himself, his fingers tracing the curve of your inner thigh, “all this time. Waiting for the right moment to make you mine. To claim you.” He leans in, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers, “No more waiting.”

You shiver at the intensity of his words, the promise in them. There’s no hesitation, no uncertainty — only the overwhelming certainty that he’s going to take you, claim you, in every way he’s ever dreamed.

Max’s hand slides higher, skimming the edge of your underwear. His touch is featherlight, teasing, and you can’t help the way your hips tilt toward him, seeking more. He lets out a low chuckle, his fingers dancing along the lace edge but never quite dipping beneath it.

“You’re so sensitive,” he murmurs, almost as if he’s talking to himself. “So perfect.” His thumb presses down lightly, just enough to make you gasp. “All mine.”

You bite your lip, your hands gripping his shoulders for support. “Max, please-”

He pulls back, just enough to look at you, his expression serious, almost reverent. “No one else gets to touch you like this,” he says, his voice firm and steady, as if making a vow. “No one else ever will.”

You nod, your breath coming in shallow gasps. “No one else, Max. Only you.”

His eyes darken further, and then he’s moving, shifting your position on his lap until you’re leaning back against the table, his body hovering over yours. He leans down, capturing your mouth in a kiss that’s fierce, almost punishing, as if he’s pouring all the years of pent-up desire and frustration into that one kiss.

His hands move with a single-minded determination, sliding your dress up and over your hips, exposing the thin scrap of lace beneath. Max pauses, his eyes drinking in the sight of you, laid out before him like some offering, and something feral flashes in his gaze.

“Beautiful,” he breathes, his hand sliding up your thigh, fingers brushing against the lace. “All mine.”

You whimper softly, your body arching toward his touch, and he growls softly in response, his fingers pressing more firmly against you.

“And no one else has ever touched here,” he says softly, almost like a question, his fingers teasing along the edge of your underwear.

You shake your head frantically, your eyes locked on his. “No, Max. Only you.”

The satisfaction in his expression is almost palpable, his chest heaving with barely restrained control. “Good,” he murmurs, his hand slipping under the lace, fingers finding your slick heat. He groans softly, his head dropping to your shoulder. “So wet for me. Just for me.”

You moan softly, your hands tangling in his hair as his fingers slide deeper, finding that sensitive spot that makes your whole body shudder. He watches you, his eyes never leaving your face, as if memorizing every reaction, every gasp, every moan.

Max stills, and he pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you. His chest heaves with every labored breath, and his pupils are blown wide with desire. But underneath all that raw hunger, there’s something deeper, something softer. A question. A pause.

“Are you sure?” He whispers, his voice rough and low, almost strained. His fingers brush lightly over your cheek, a gentle contrast to the way his body is pressed against yours. “Tell me now if you want me to stop.”

You meet his gaze, seeing the war within him — the need to take what’s his battling against the desire to protect you, to make sure this is what you want too. The vulnerability in his eyes, the way his thumb caresses your cheek, makes your heart ache in the best possible way.

“I want this,” you whisper, your voice steady despite the trembling of your body. “I want you.”

Something shifts in his gaze — any lingering uncertainty melts away, replaced by pure, unadulterated determination. He swallows hard, his jaw clenching. “I need you to understand,” he says softly, his voice almost guttural, “that once I have you — once I’m inside you — there’s no going back. You’re mine, and I’m never letting you go.”

Your breath catches, your heart beating wildly at the weight of his words. “I know,” you murmur, your hands sliding down his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath. “I want to be yours, Max. Forever.”

That’s all it takes.

Max’s mouth crashes against yours, the kiss bruising and desperate, as if he’s trying to pour every ounce of his need, his love, into it. His hands move quickly, tugging the lace of your underwear down your legs and tossing it aside. Then, he’s standing, pulling you up with him.

With a single motion, he sweeps the table clear, dishes and glasses clattering to the floor, forgotten. He lifts you effortlessly, setting you down on the table, your legs spread wide around him. The cool surface of the wood contrasts sharply with the heat of your skin, sending a shiver up your spine.

“Look at me,” Max commands, his voice low and husky. His hands cup your face, holding you still as his eyes bore into yours. “I need to see your eyes when I make you mine.”

Your breath hitches as he steps between your legs, his hand sliding down to grasp his length. He’s hard and heavy in his palm, the sight of him — so big, so ready — making your heart race even faster. He strokes himself slowly, his gaze never leaving yours, and your body clenches with anticipation.

“Max,” you breathe, your hands reaching out to clutch his shoulders. “Please …”

He lets out a low growl, his hands gripping your hips, holding you steady. The broad head of his cock brushes against your entrance, and you can’t help the way your body arches toward him, seeking more.

“Easy,” he murmurs, his voice a strained whisper. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

You shake your head, your nails digging into his skin. “You won’t. I want-”

The words die on your lips as he begins to push inside, the stretch of him almost unbearable. Your breath catches, and Max’s grip tightens, his jaw clenched so hard it looks like it might crack.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he groans, his head dropping to your shoulder. He’s barely inside, just the tip, but it feels like too much and not enough all at once. “Tell me if I’m hurting you, liefje.”

You bite your lip, shaking your head. “No … no, it’s — it’s so good. Keep going, Max, please-”

He exhales sharply, his breath hot against your neck, and then he’s pushing in further, inch by inch, until he’s seated deep inside you. The fullness is overwhelming, the sensation of him stretching you, filling you, sending sparks of pleasure and pain shooting through your body.

You can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything but cling to him as he stills, giving you time to adjust. His hands are trembling against your skin, and you realize with a start that he’s holding himself back, fighting to keep control.

“You’re perfect,” he whispers, his voice tight with strain. “So fucking perfect. And you’re mine, do you understand? No one else will ever have you like this.”

You nod frantically, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “Yes, Max. I’m yours — only yours.”

His eyes blaze with something dark and fierce, and then he’s moving, his hips pulling back before thrusting forward again, burying himself deep inside you. The movement is slow, measured, but you can feel the barely restrained power behind it, the way his body is trembling with the effort to go slow.

“Fuck, schatje,” he groans, his head dropping to your shoulder. “You’re so tight, squeezing me like that. Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?”

You gasp softly, your hands clutching at his shoulders, your body trembling with every thrust. “Max … please … I-”

He growls softly, his pace quickening, his grip on your hips tightening. “What do you need?” He murmurs, his voice a low, rough whisper. “Tell me what you need.”

“More,” you breathe, your body arching into his, seeking more of the pleasure only he can give you. “I need … more …”

Max’s breath catches, and then he’s moving faster, his hips driving into you with a force that sends shockwaves of pleasure through your entire body. The table creaks beneath you, but you barely register it, too lost in the feeling of him inside you, filling you completely.

“Is this what you wanted?” He growls, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your neck. “To have me fuck you like this, to take you hard and deep?”

You can’t form words, can only moan and nod, your body trembling with every thrust. Max’s hands slide up your back, holding you closer, his pace relentless.

“God, you feel so good,” he groans, his voice thick with pleasure. “So fucking good. I want to keep you like this forever, keep you under me twenty-four-seven. Fuck, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to let you go.”

His words send a fresh wave of pleasure crashing over you, your body tightening around him. “Max-”

He’s panting now, his movements becoming erratic, his control slipping. “I hope you know,” he murmurs, his voice rough and desperate, “that I’m never letting you go now. You’re mine — forever.”

You can’t do anything but cling to him as he takes you, his body driving into yours with a force that leaves you breathless. The pleasure builds and builds, coiling tighter and tighter until —

“Max!” You cry out, your body convulsing around him as the orgasm rips through you, shattering you into a thousand pieces.

Max groans, his hips slamming into yours one final time before he stills, his body shuddering with his release. His head drops to your shoulder, his breath hot and heavy against your skin.

For a long moment, the only sound in the room is the harsh panting of your breaths, the steady thud of your racing hearts. Max’s hands are still trembling as they slide up to cup your face, his lips brushing softly against yours.

“I love you,” he murmurs, his voice rough and raw. “I love you so much, schatje.”

You smile softly, your hands tangling in his hair. “I love you too, Max. Forever.”

And as he kisses you, slow and tender, you know that forever with Max is exactly what you want.

[5sospenguinqueen]

Espresso | Max Verstappen x Singer! Reader

Summary: Despite going back to his relationship with Kelly, Max can’t stop thinking about you. Every night. It certainly doesn’t help that you keep cropping up in the McLaren garage.

Warnings: softcore angst? Swearing. A pining man 

Requested: yes by many of you on the previous part 

Facelaim: Sabrina Carpenter (she was used on the last one and yes, she's used a lot but I stole her song and her job so I'm also stealing her face)

F1 Masterlist

prev. || next.

this will end up having 4 parts total. they're planned but not fully written

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yn_ln just posted

liked by mclaren, oscarpiastri and others

yn_ln what do you do when you get woken up at 2am and can’t get back to sleep? write a song espresso is out now 

16,331 comments

user1 is this what the kids call a soft launch? is she seeing someone?

user2 okay but who is the guy reflected in her sunglasses? a new beau perhaps?

alexandrasaintmleux i don’t know what’s hotter. the song or the body 

→ francisca.cgomes the men in the video

→ pierregasly i can see this

user3 at least we know this new guy is dicking her down good 

user4 why do i feel like this is about max?

→ user5 why tf would it be about max? it’s a fun song about fucking all night

→ user4 because it feels teasing. like, he’s with someone else but can’t stop thinking about yn

→ user6 i’m with user4. maybe she’s trying to throw us off?

landonorris the sun looks bright in that pic

→ user7 uh oh. norizz is alive and well everyone 

user8 does this mean max keeps contacting her? 

user9 max is 100% messaging her at 1am saying how he misses her 

user10 i need a camera in max and kelly’s house when they first heard this 

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yn_ln just posted

liked by redbullracing, kellypiquet and others

yn_ln i know i mountain dew it for ya (although, most of these had vodka) tagged: alexandrasaintmleux, francisca.cgomes

17,094 comments

user11 she looks like a hot librarian

→ user12 i‘d let her help me with my homework

user13 red bull admin is a canon yn stan

francisca.cgomes hot girls do bottomless brunch

→ alexandrasaintmleux maybe they shouldn’t. i still can’t find my left shoe

→ yn_ln i have it

user14 i bet the debrief was piping hot 

→ user15 oh to be in a gossip sesh with yn, kika and alex 

charles_leclerc stay away from my girlfriend. she came home drunk ranting about how much she loved you and the colour of your hair 

→ pierregasly and mine wouldn’t stop talking about how pretty your eyes are and how good you smell

→ yn_ln i have unbelievable rizz 

user16 i’d let yn step on me

→ yn_ln and i won’t even charge you 

user17 max fumbled so bad 

landonorris who’s that cute blonde?

→ yn_ln oscar isn’t in this post??

→ user18 i don’t think he was talking about oscar, hun

→ yn_ln why would he publicly embarrass his boyfriend like this?

→ oscarpiastri i hate you 

f1wags just posted

liked by verstappencom, shortnsweet and others

f1wags not even 6 weeks after reconciling, max verstappen and kelly piquet were caught arguing 

3,330 comments

user1 can they just stay broken up this time??

→ user2 i love max but i’m fed up now 

user3 yet you’ve not got any pics of it? why all the old lovey dovey pics of them

→ user4 the pics are all over twitter. i think f1wags chose not to post them because max looks like he’s trying not to cry in them, and f1wags has always been nice towards the drivers

user5 why is no one talking about the fact that both verstappencom and shortnsweet liked this??? 

→ user6 the fact that their teams are so desperate for them to be together that they’re publicly rooting for kelly’s demise 

user7 i’ve seen the clip on twitter and i wanna know why she’s yelling at him so aggressively 

→ user8 i bet it’s cause he’s been all up in yn’s likes 

→ user9 yeah but so is she 

→ user10 you’d think their relationship would be strengthened by their shared obsession with yn 

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mclaren just posted

liked by lilymhe, flavy.barla and others

mclaren papaya party it wouldn’t be a maiden win celebration without some celebs. guess who got to hear espresso live 

7,814 comments

yn_ln why is lando’s hand like that? he’s not a ken doll 

→ landonorris i’m the barbie. you’re the ken

→ yn_ln you wish you were the barbie. you don’t have barbie energy

→ oscarpiastri i’m confused

→ yn_ln you’re an alan 

→ landonorris you take that back! 

→ user11 does this mean lando and yn saw barbie together?

→ oscarpiastri yes and they left me back at the mtc 

user12 not all the wags liking a mclaren post 

→ user13 it’s the power of yn

user14 lando and yn’s interactions give me life 

user15 i love how mclaren’s engagement has increased since yn started commenting on everything

→ user16 they’ve become more enjoyable since she became a fan 

user17 okay but she looks so good in orange

→ redbullracing except she was meant to be in navy

user18 her and lando make such a cute couple

→ landonorris ew no

→ yn_ln ew no. besides, you guys told me she was with oscar. i can’t break that up

→ oscarpiastri @/mclaren can we ban her from the garage?

→ lilyzneimer no! 

→ mclaren no! 

→ landonorris @/yn_ln i know i said no but why did you say no?

user19 guys, max liked and unliked this 

user20 mv1 fans, i think we’ve lost her 

landonorris posted a new story

yn_ln replied still serving cunt though 

maxverstappen1 replied is that yn?

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requests open

coming next; oscar piastri. rivals to teammates to more

tell my why i lowkey feel bad posting this after the pregnancy announcement. i mean, i still don’t like kelly but i wish them every happiness for a safe and healthy delivery.

there will be NO lando x yn in the next two parts 

tag list

@peachiicherries @rosecentury @c-losur3 @heavy-vettel @evie-119 @raizelchrysanderoctavius @lilorose25 @sillyfreakfanparty @justaf1girl @omgsuperstarg @seonghwaexile @alejandrablacklupin @nina-or-anna-or-nora @shelbyteller @raynetargaryan2 @astroniii @jxnellat @seasonswinter @casey1-2007 @chemiru @strengthandstay @ivanag1rl @chaoswithus @ivegotparticulartaste @kiyoke3xe @pookynknowntranger

[annewithaneofthegreengable]

Kinktober - Day 27

27th — honeymoon, Max Verstappen

Hi! I'm back!

The previous day I The next day I Kinktober masterlist I Main list

Carrying you in his arms bridal style, Max steps through the doorway of your shared bedroom, a soft smile lighting up his features. The room glows warmly from the dim light of a bedside lamp, casting a golden hue over the space. He cradles you with effortless strength, his chest firm and steady beneath your weight, as though he never wants to let go. Once inside, he pauses, savoring the moment, before gently setting you down on your feet. His lips find the crook of your neck, planting a lingering kiss that sends shivers down your spine.

He inhales deeply, the delicate floral notes of your perfume filling his senses. "You smell incredible," he murmurs softly, his voice low and full of warmth. Your arms naturally rest over his, which are firmly wrapped around your waist, holding you close. For a moment, you glance down, catching sight of your intertwined fingers adorned with matching gold wedding bands that glint under the soft light. The sight makes your heart swell, a symbol of your commitment forever engraved in gold.

You turn in his embrace, his arms never leaving your body. Looking into his deep, adoring eyes, you can't help but smile. You lean forward and brush your lips against his—once, twice, then a third time—light, teasing kisses that make him chuckle softly against your mouth. His hand brushes gently through your hair, fingers tangling slightly as he caresses you with a touch that's as tender as it is electrifying.

"I still can't believe you married me," he confesses, his voice laced with awe and a hint of vulnerability. A small, boyish grin tugs at the corners of his lips, and his eyes glimmer with love.

"I still can't believe you thought I wouldn’t want to," you reply, your voice bright with amusement and affection. The joy in his expression deepens as his grin widens, and he shakes his head slightly, clearly overwhelmed by his emotions.

Leaning in, Max kisses you softly, his lips brushing against yours with exquisite care before his passion starts to seep through. His hands travel slowly up your back, his touch firm yet gentle, and his thumbs pause at the curve of your breasts, resting there like he's savoring the moment. Then, in a swift motion, he pulls you closer, eliminating the space between your bodies, and deepens the kiss. His lips capture yours with fervor, his tongue teasing yours as the kiss grows more intense.

You feel him shift, his hips pressing into yours, searching for closeness. The thick layers of your ivory wedding dress create a barrier, but it doesn’t stop the spark of pleasure from coursing through you. A soft moan escapes your lips, and his lips curve into a smile against yours.

Finally, he pulls back just enough to whisper, his breath warm against your skin, “Let’s go to bed.” His tone is low, filled with promise and longing. You notice the faint hint of mint on his breath—likely from the mints he’d taken during the reception—and it makes you smile at the small detail.

"As enticing as that sounds," you respond, breathing heavily, "I actually wanted to go swimming first."

The cozy house the two of you are staying for the honeymoon rests not to far from the water. You can hear the beach from here. It sings, waves hitting the shore.

"C'mon, Liefde. We have two weeks to go swimming." His hands find your ass, grabbing firmly. "I want you now," he continues; his voice sounds husky in your ear. He pecks a corner of your mouth.

His words, the touching, stirs an awakening of passion inside you. Brushing his cheek with the back of your fingers, you say with a smooth voice, "Well...the beach will still be there when we're-"

That's all he needs. Max quickly brings you in, kisses roughly. He cups your breasts, gives them a squeeze.

A wave of desire washes over you. You take off the jacket of his tux. Then, parting your lips, you clumsily undo the buttons of his shirt. About halfway, he helps with the rest. The white shirt lands on the floor with a soft murmur.

A smile lighting his face, the groom takes your hand and spins you until he faces your back. Max unlaces the string of your corset. It soon hits the floor, a puddle of ivory around your feet. He chuckles and smacks your ass.

You jump at his touch. Only in your strapless bra and thong, you turn and playfully shove him. The both of you laugh. He kisses the top of your head as you remove his pants.

Then he picks you up and carefully throws you on the bed. Max bites his lip at the sight of your breasts jiggling a bit. Lifting an eyebrow, you pat on the mattress. He chuckles loudly and enthusiastically accepts the invitation.

Climbing on top of you, he moves your hair away from your face. "Ready, Liefde?"

You nod and say eagerly, "Yes."

He kisses you, which starts softly then evolves into ravenous. His hands brushes your arms, then one of them travels to your thigh while the other is used for support. 

Your hands stroke his torso. When they skim his sensitive nipples, Max breaks the kiss and arches his back. He moans, eyes closed, before returning his sight on you. He's pleased.

Reaching behind you, he works on unclasping your bra. Your breasts soon are free. He tosses the article of clothing away randomly, staring at your chest with hunger. He begins to suck, tongue drawing circles around your nipple. His hand fondles the other one.

Crying out in pleasure, your fingers dig in his hair. You feel his teeth biting gently on your bud, lifting a little, then let your boob fall with a slight bounce.

He soon addresses the other one. You feel his saliva on the one he parted from as he takes a mouthful of you. The thumb of his good hand lovingly strokes the nipple he left then he twists it.

You gasp. "Max!"

Mouth leaving your chest, he looks at you with a grin. He cups your face with one hand. "What? Are you enjoying yourself, darling?" After you nod, your husband gives a quick kiss. 

"I love you," you confess.

He brushes your cheek. "I love you, too."

Max kisses down your neck, the space between your chest, and down your stomach. Grasping the straps of your thong, he removes it while keeping his eyes on you. Tossing it wherever, he kisses your inner thighs before eating you out.

You let out a loud cry, heart beating faster. Moaning, you look as he licks you, sucks your clit. You gather his hair with your hand, call his name in pleasure. You can't help that you're holding your breath in sheer satisfaction, can't lie still. As he gets a good hold of you, your back arches, toes pinch.

"Oh, Max. I'm-I'm gonna cum." Your voice is a whisper. You mean it to be louder; however, you can't muster that volume.

His hand slithers north then fondles your breast. He lifts his head enough to stroke that bundle of nerves you have in a circular motion. 

"Max!"

Returning his head between your legs, he continues to suck with more hunger. Soon, as the pleasure continues to build and he showing his love, is too much to handle. You experience the tidal wave that is your orgasm. You cum; he accepts it, enjoys it by licking your offering, all of it. 

Once you're clean, Max straightens then wipes his mouth. "I love how you taste, Liefde."

"That was amazing," you admit breathlessly.

"I'm not done with you yet...my new wife," he replies with joy.

The groom flips you over. Down your spine, he kisses and licks you. When Max reaches the bottom, he hikes your hip. With his hand on your stomach, he lifts your upper body. You wait for whatever he has plan on all fours. He takes off his boxers then slides himself inside you. You call out his name, very pleased, as he begins by massaging the tip of his cock. 

As he progresses, his thrusts that were once soft are now full on and rough. All of his cock that he can manage to pump inside eagers your walls immensely. The walls twitch, beckon him. Your breasts bounce with each thrust. His fingers dig. You hear his gunts, adding to the music of skin slapping and your own loud hollering. 

"Liefde," Max yells between breaths, "please tell me that...that you're a-almost there! I can't hold it m-much longer!" He releases another grunt.

"Yes! Yes, I'm-"

You're interrupted by your second orgasm. Your release washes over him, which makes him cum as well. As your walls swallow all he gives, he continues to pump, slowing down, until the wave is over.

Once he pulls out, you collapse on the bed. You turn over and see your husband hovering above you. He kisses you, his mouth heavy and sloppy. You feel the bristles of his beard. Then he flops next to you, panting and exhausted. 

After a few deep breaths, you go over and rest your head on his chest, your arm around him. He holds you, too, and brushes your back. 

"Oh, Max." You try to catch your breath.

"Darling." He takes a deep breath. "I love you."

Smiling, you reply, "I love you, too."

Taglist:@formula1-motogpfan@iamafootballfanmiasanmia@arian-directioner@annimausi@mythicalmaven@lucycowr@hamilton-mount @Chuxk-leclerk @landosgirl @Kikiaaaay @iluvvmeeee @stars4me @starz4me1 @fxrmuladaydreams @Ashleyo1611 @ln-fours @cloud-55 @neo-stay @mysteriesincorporated @nzygftoji @dinodumbass @qxeenjen @lilmacabe @9fi @sya-skies @toriiez @jud-3 @ryl-xoxo @fandomz-queenie @gracie23x @kr1sblog @b-law @F1fan24 @taylorsdoratheafr @missevrythingg @salma @cherrypopsicle @toasterpiastri @uhhvictoria @01rrdbull @aracelys-stuff @horseymchorse3 @lou-ghoul @unknownmystery22 @thisbitxhs-blog @toxicdreamer296 @maxivstappen @si1ver06 @mendes-bae @bestgirlie @mbioooo0000 @depressedgiftedburnout @lieslostinsilence @chaoticversion @kaydesssssssss @maryelizaart @milkyymelanine @bisrae @carlando4 @mystichandspruneshark @sweetwh0re @larastark3107 @fiveyjustin @moonchildlec @bicrazybabe @maximumflaps @sainzwife @i--sa @liviav @nitonan-blog @moodymoony71 @horrible-decision @verstappenluv111 @Meyla123X @bea-stilinksi24 @Hayley125 @imjustme-n @elizamoe133 @bernelflo @evie-likes-stuff @anne1444444 @celtis--vr @rockytheluver @orlafitz1664 @aliceespector @ricciadosredbull @novelant @briannamh07 @oliveswiftly @hotlapshottakes @sinners-98-world @ramenblutte @fallenlunar @little-nando14 @fore45fore @importantduckhumanoidpatrol @eroselless @strabunny @sydneyhlove @jkdaddy01 @multi-fandom5 @f1-hoff @kittylolly4 @reguluscrystals @uhhvictoria @arian-directioner @forza-dolce @dukeofjjune @vimayxo @ilove-tswizzle @peachapat119

[diqldrunks]

snap out of it — max verstappen

requests are open! send me anything!! [nav | inbox]

a/n: i love max so much i want to bite him

content: rivals to lovers, reader is in a crappy relationship, red bull!reader, there’s a little time skip!!

i wanted this to be one part but it’s taken ages to write this much and i just want to post it 😭😭 part two should be out soon though <3

messages

instagram

yourusername just posted!

liked by maxverstappen, user 1 and 32,628 others

yourusername ✓ having a solo date <3

2,726 comments…

user2 cutie!!

user3 solo dates aren’t for people in a long term relationship babes?!

user4 she can go on a solo date if she wants to 💀

user5 so um where’s her boyfriend who’s supposed to be taking her on dates?

user6 you’re foul 😭😭

user3 THIS IS WHAT I WAS SAYING

user7 he hasn’t even liked the post 💀 he makes it so easy to call him out as a shit boyfriend (liked by maxverstappen)

user8 fr he always looks so annoyed at y/n just being near him

user8 tfw your teammate/rival likes your instagram post but your boyfriend of 3 years doesn’t: 😆 (liked by maxverstappen)

user9 maxy/n for the win

user10 he probably spends more time with her than nathan

user11 NOT MAX BEING MESSY WITH THE LIKES-

[time skip]

twitter

instagram

gridnewsf1 just posted!

liked by yourusername, user23 and 42,363 others

gridnewsf1 ✓ After initially remaining silent, Max Verstappen has spoken out against his teammate’s boyfriend, Nathan Reed. Reed, a reserve driver for Ferrari’s F1 team has been dating Y/n L/n for almost three years after being in F2 together.

Reed publicly agreed with Sky Sports Commentator Danica Patricks after she stated it was not as ‘natural’ for women to be an F1 driver compared to men; tweeting, after Patricks began receiving backlash, that “different genders have different capabilities, and it is a fact that a man’s capabilities are higher than females.” Y/n L/n is yet to comment.

Verstappen, after a reporter asked if he believed this to be true regarding L/n, answered “I think it’s ridiculous that either [Patricks or Reed] can be saying that — Nathan especially. It sounds like a bitter mediocre man child is upset that a woman is doing his dream job, much better than he ever could.“ He then continued, saying “men like these aren’t ones you want to be dating.”

Twitter users have commented that they believe Verstappen and Reed have bad blood between them, using the last slide as a reference (Verstappen after spotting Reed in the Red Bull garage)

9,636 comments…

user24 DAMN

user25 he popped off fr

user26 Y/N LIKING THIS? IS THIS THE END OF NATHAN??

user27 I THINK YOU’RE RIGHT

this could’ve been done like an hour earlier than it was but i got distracted looking at max photos on pinterest

max taglist; @see-me-wilding @forzacharlie16 @pastryfication @i-wanna-study @popsycles @cow-boy000 @iambored24601 @persephone-haven @eclipsedcherry @reidsworld @sepptember

[vivwritesfics]

Drive Me Crazy

Chapter Eight

None of you are used to pack dynamics. Unlike then, it made you near feral. There's nothing more they want than to build you back up.

Lestappen X Reader

handler is extra nasty in this one

Series Masterlist

"Morning, Birdy."

Your head snapped up from your colourful breakfast of different fruits and yoghurts as Max walked through your hotel room door. You grinned as you watched him stride towards you, pull out the seat across from you and sit down.

"Ready for today?" He asked, his smile so kind. You couldn't help but wonder if he had ever looked at Charles like this, and if it had ever made Charles feel as bashful as it was making you feel.

As you ate a slice of apple coated in strawberry flavoured yoghurt, you nodded your head. You were ready for today, but you were still nervous. No matter what, you were going to make the team proud, going to make Charles proud.

You picked up an orange segment and bit down. The moment your teeth cut through the skin of the orange, you hit a seed.

Your eyes went wide and you spat out the half of an orange segment in your mouth. You pulled the seed from your mouth, desperately trying not to gag. But that was it, your breakfast was done. You wiped away tears that hadn't fallen and pushed your bowl across the table.

Max's smile turned sad as he stood from his seat and walked over to you. You tensed up when he raised his hand, but he simply pet your head. "I'm taking you to the track today, Birdy," he said as he combed his fingers through your hair.

"Not without this!" Your handler called as he stepped out of the room that had become your bedroom. From her finger your muzzle dangled, and Max let the smile drop from his face.

The fucking muzzle.

Releasing a growl of his own, Max snatched the muzzle from her fingers. "No," he barked and dropped it to the floor. You released a whine of your own, obeying that thing inside of you that pulled you closer to him.

Protection.

Safe.

Big.

Strong.

Max pulled you to your feet, still growling as he held you against his chest. Your whines matched his growls as you gripped his shirt, trying desperately to hide yourself away.

But the whistle cut through the air. Every werewolf in the building must have heard it, and you had no doubt it affected them as much as it affected you.

You and Max dropped to your knees, hands covering your ears as you tried to get away from the noise. Even when your handler pulled the dog whistle away from her lips, your body still shook, hands still on your ears and eyes squeezed shut.

She stepped over Max, much in the same state that you were, and picked up your muzzle from the floor. "I'm sorry, Beastie," she mumbled and pulled your hands away from your ears. Your body was still shaking as she put the muzzle around your mouth and pulled you to your feet. She pulled your hair over your shoulder, lips close to your ear as she whispered.

"Protect me from him," she whispered, a subtle edge to her words. She held up the small remote to your shock collar, thumb covering over the button.

You whimpered more. Breaths shuddering, Max stood up. His chest was heaving as he stared at you. No, not at you, at your handler, cowering behind you. "You said you were taking us to the track," she said as she continued to stare at Max over your shoulder.

If only you stepped to the side, Max would stare her limb from limb without hesitation. Heartless, terrible woman. He almost called you to his side, almost pulled you away from her, but he saw her thumb resting on the button of the shock collar.

He straightened himself up and marched out of the hotel room, leaving you and your handler to follow after him. She was walking too close to you to be comfortable, tripping both you and her up.

***

Most drivers were already at the track. You released a breath when you released that, when you released that nobody else had been affected by the whistle.

Your handler allowed you to follow Max around, the threat of the shock collar still there. No matter what, you were going to behave, she knew.

You followed after Max like a lost puppy, trailing after him wide eyes. When he stopped walking, you stopped, nose practically touching his back. The closer you stayed to Max, the calmer you became. The calmer you both became.

"Should we go and find Charles?" He asked, reaching for your muzzle.

You stepped out of his reach as you nodded your head. Max dropped his hand and gave a nod. "C'mon, Birdy," he said, hand touching your back as he gently pushed you towards the Ferrari garage.

You didn't mean to break into a run, didn't mean to collide with Charles. Maybe you had grown too comfortable with him too quickly, nearly knocking him over. He grabbed your elbows, steadying you. "Hi, Birdy Girl," he whispered, smiling fondly down at you.

He pushed your hair behind you ears, unable to see your grin behind your muzzle. He could see it in your eyes, though, and it was beautiful.

He looked past you as Max approached. He breathed in, the scent of Max surrounding you. Fuck, he loved it, he could have rolled in your combined scents all damn day.

Something was wrong, that was evident by the smell Max was letting off. But he shook his head before Charles could ask. They would talk about it later, and Charles agreed.

He let you go, let you disappear into your drivers room to get ready. Everything but pull your helmet on, not with your collar and muzzle in the way.

"Her handler is a fucking bitch," Max said, seething. "She used a fucking dog whistle on us," he growled, still clearly seething.

"Both of you?" Charles asked through a gasp, unable to stop himself from touching Max's chest. You and Max. She hurt both of you. He sucked in a breath, pushed his anger down.

He let go of Max. "What else happened?" He asked, taking a step away from Max. No longer too close for comfort. "In general, I mean."

"She likes fruit," Max said quietly, scratching at the back of his neck. "And she responded when I growled, Charles! She has at least some pack instincts."

Charles smiled to himself. "She's like you, Max. Remember when you had only limited pack instincts?"

Max gave a nod, but there you were. You strode towards them in your fireproofs, overalls hanging low on your hips with your helmet tucked under your arm. "Come here" Charles called and took your helmet from you.

He shoved it into Max's hands and turned you around. Charles worked to undo your muzzle. He pulled it from your face and shoved it into his pocket. Your shock collar ended up on the floor, crushed beneath Charles's shoe.

Turning you back around, Charles pushed your helmet onto your head. He didn't fasten it, just left it on your face. "Let me know if you want us to take it off," he whispered and tucked you under his arm.

You didn't know if they could hear your purrs, you didn't care. If your helmet wasn't in the way, you would have been nuzzling against him like a cat.

"Birdy."

You looked up at Max, helmet hitting Charles's chin. If it hurt him, he made no indication.

"Travel home with us," he offered. "Just the three of us on my private jet."

You pushed your helmet from your head and handed it to Charles. As soon as you were free from it, you ran to Max, nuzzling yourself against his chest as you held him.

Max wrapped his arms around you. "I wish you would talk to us, Birdy," he whispered and you tightened your grip on him.

When your handler came over, Max held you tighter. But you stepped out of his grip and pulled your helmet back onto your head.

"Where's your muzzle, Beastie?" She asked, crossing her arms over her chest and shaking her head.

"I must have dropped it," Charles said, shrugging his shoulders. You lowered your visor to hide your expression. "And her shock collar," he said, kicking the pieces towards her.

Her expression soured. But she shook her head, controlling her emotions. "Come on, Beastie. Let's get you in the car."

Before you could walk away, Max grabbed your hand. "I'll see you after the race, Birdy," he whispered and let you go.

prev | next

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[aleskie-hischier]

SINCERELY, YOURS (ft. Max Verstappen)

SUMMARY: You come home to a heartwarming mess of papers, ink, and (worst of all) glitter. But the letters you get from it are worth the small headache.

The Xmas Album Masterlist

Warnings: full on domestic fluff with mr. max!!

“I’m home!” you call out, balancing bags of groceries as you shut the door behind you.

“Mama, you’re back!” A small voice chimes in, followed by the quick patter of footsteps on the hardwood floor. It’s your son, Felix Verstappen, all smiles and undeniably far from the clean state you left him in an hour ago.

Setting the groceries down, you crouch to give him a hug. “My baby, did you miss me?” you ask, your tone sweet and playful.

He nods earnestly. “You were gone forever.”

“Mhm.” You take his little hands in yours, instantly noting the sticky sensation of what you suspect is glue. A closer look reveals the true extent of his artistry: while his face is mercifully clean, his clothes are a canvas of marker streaks and, to your dismay, glitter—the absolute bane of your existence.

Before you can say anything, another set of footsteps enters the foyer.

“Oh, schatz, you’re home,” Max, your husband, greets you with a warm smile. He leans in for a quick kiss before swooping down to grab the groceries. “I’ll take these to the kitchen.”

“Thanks, hun.” You return his smile, but your gaze lingers on him for a moment. That’s when you notice it: various shades of marker ink smudged across his forearms and—yep, more glitter dusted across his shirt.

Turning back to your son, you scoop him up effortlessly, earning a delighted giggle. Getting picked up is his absolute favorite thing these days.

“Fox,” you say, giving him a pointed look. “Do you want to tell me why you and Daddy are such a mess?”

He turns his head toward the living room, his grin stretching even wider. “It’s a surprise!”

“Really?” you reply, raising a brow as curiosity creeps in. Balancing him on your hip, you make your way to the living room. “And who is this surprise for—”

Your words falter mid-sentence as your eyes land on the scene before you. The living room is a battlefield of creativity and chaos. Markers are scattered across the floor, joined by an explosion of colored paper and scraps. Felix’s prized sticker collection decorates every available flat surface—the coffee table, the windowsill, even the TV remote. Glitter sparkles from the cushions, as though the couch itself had decided to join in the festivities. And to your utter horror, you spy bold streaks of green and red marker on the arm of your beloved cream armchair.

“Okay, I promise we were going to clean up before you got home,” Max pipes up, appearing from the kitchen with a sheepish smile. In one hand he holds a half-empty jar of glitter and what looks like a glue stick in between his fingers.

You exhale, smirking as you tilt your head and raise a brow at your husband. “What a surprise, right, Maxie?”

“Well…” Max rubs the back of his neck, the universal gesture of a guilty party caught red-handed. “I admit it kind of…escalated. But look!” He gestures toward the coffee table, drawing your attention for the first time.

The scene before you is pure, endearing chaos. Scattered across the table is a vibrant collection of handmade Christmas cards, each one uniquely charming in its imperfections. Crayon-drawn Christmas trees overflow with ornaments, ranging from Santa’s sleigh to inexplicably random racecars. Snowflakes, lopsided but earnest, adorn other cards, which are further embellished with an eclectic mix of Spiderman and holiday-themed stickers. One particular card stands out—a reindeer crafted from Felix’s tiny handprint, smudged at the edges but adorable nonetheless.

And, of course, glitter. Glitter everywhere. It clings to the cards, the table, and even seems to hover in the air like festive dust motes. You think the glitter is a bit over the top, but it tugs at your heartstrings all the same.

Felix wiggles excitedly in your arms, his grin as big as the mess. “We’re making Christmas cards! For everyone!”

Your exasperation melts a little as your heart softens. “Oh, is that so?”

“Yeah!” he says, practically vibrating with pride. “I made one for you, too!”

“For me?” you ask, letting a smile break through as you feign surprise.

Felix nods furiously before wriggling out of your arms. He races to the table, careful not to trip over the glitter-sprinkled floor, and grabs one of the cards with sticky hands. He rushes back, holding it out for you as if it’s a treasure.

The card is a masterpiece of toddler creativity. Made with your favorite colors, it features a drawn angel perched atop a Christmas tree, both slightly lopsided but clearly crafted with care. Across the top, in Max’s slightly more legible handwriting, is the message: We love you, Mama! The glue is still tacky, and glitter flakes off onto your hands as you take it, but the love poured into it is undeniable.

You chuckle, any lingering annoyance dissolving completely in the face of their heartfelt effort. “It’s beautiful, Foxie. I absolutely love it.”

Felix claps his glue-smeared hands together in delight, his face glowing with pride.

Next to you, Max wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you in close. His bright smile is as warm as the twinkling Christmas lights strung up around the room. “Totally worth it, right?”

You roll your eyes playfully but can’t hold back a laugh. “You’re so lucky it’s Christmas,” you tease, tilting your head to meet his gaze. Then, with mock seriousness, you ask, “Now, who haven’t you guys made cards for?”

Max chuckles and takes your hand, guiding you to the coffee table that has been transformed into a chaotic, glitter-filled crafting station. “We’ve got a list, don’t we, Felix?”

“Yes!” Felix chirps, his enthusiasm boundless.

He picks up a crumpled piece of paper from the table and hands it to you. The list is long, a mix of names from Max’s life as a driver—fellow racers, team members, and factory staff—along with Felix’s little friends and a sprawling number of family members.

You scan the list and raise an eyebrow. “This is a lot of work for just two people,” you say, smiling. “How do you want me to help?”

Felix’s face lights up, and he eagerly thrusts a jar of glitter into your hands. “Mama, you’re on glitter duty!”

You scrunch your nose, groaning in mock protest, which only sends Felix into a fit of giggles. Max grins as he reaches over to pinch your cheek. “Don’t act like you don’t want to join in on the fun,” he teases.

“Whatever,” you say, rolling your eyes dramatically. Setting the glitter jar down with exaggerated reluctance, you roll up your sleeves. “But I swear, if I’m still finding glitter in my hair by March, I’m banning waffles from this household.”

Max gasps, feigning deep offense. “Not the waffles! You wouldn’t dare.”

“You know I would.”

The three of you settle into a whirlwind of crafting chaos. Felix chatters nonstop about his card designs, explaining every sticker and every crayon stroke in great detail. Max, always the silly goose, adds dad jokes and silly doodles to some of the cards, sneaking kisses to your cheek when Felix isn’t looking—and exaggerating them when Felix is watching, just to see him cover his eyes as he groans, “Ewww, you’re icky!”

The hours pass in a happy blur of laughter and mess. The coffee table becomes a scene of glue, glitter, and scraps of colorful paper, but the stack of cards grows, each one brimming with love and personality.

Eventually, Felix announces he’s “soooo tired” and toddles off to bed, barely making it down the hallway before Max scoops him up and carries him the rest of the way.

You’re tidying up the craft supplies, still battling the glitter that seems to have invaded every surface, mentally noting which furniture pieces might need professional help to remove the marker ink. 

As you gather stray scraps of paper, Max returns from tucking Felix into bed.

He joins you in the cleanup, and together you move around the room in a quiet rhythm, the calm of the evening settling over you both. Your hips occasionally bump into each other, and your fingers brush as you pick up stray bits of paper and reorganize the art supplies. It’s a small, unspoken dance of familiarity and comfort.

As Max turns his attention to the stack of finished cards, he pulls one out from under the pile and holds it out to you. It’s slightly neater than the others but still carries the charming imperfections of a heartfelt DIY project.

“For me?” you ask, raising an eyebrow in surprise.

“Of course,” he says with a playful smile, handing it to you. “Felix made you one, so obviously I had to show him who loved you first.”

You chuckle softly, taking the card from his hands. The front features a heart in your favorite colors, surrounded by stars and a glittery Christmas tree. In the center, there’s a simple drawing of two stick figures, unmistakably you and Max, hand in hand.

Inside, a short message in Max’s handwriting reads:

Merry Christmas! Thank you for all these years together—for loving me and making me a husband and a father. Here’s to more years and even more happiness. I love you.

Your chest fills with warmth as you look up at him, your eyes softening. “It’s perfect,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss him gently. “You’re so perfect.”

He grins against your lips, his hands resting lightly on your waist.

Pulling back, you reach over to the side table and open a drawer. “I made something for you, too,” you say, pulling out a slightly uneven card.

Max’s eyes light up with curiosity as he takes it from your hands. The front features a hand-drawn racetrack looping around a tiny Christmas tree, with festive doodles scattered across the background and the iconic RedBull car zooming on the track..

Inside, you’ve written:

To my heart, my rock, my joy—my Maxie. Thank you for being everything I never knew I needed. You are the best thing to have ever happened to me. I love you to the moon and back.

Max reads it slowly, his expression softening as he finishes. He looks at you, a mixture of love and gratitude in his eyes. “I love it,” he says, his voice quieter now. “And I love you.”

You rest your head against his shoulder, your hands entwined on the table amidst the glitter and glue. The mess of the evening fades into the background, eclipsed by the warmth and love filling the room.

“Merry Christmas, schatz,” Max whispers, his voice low and tender.

“Merry Christmas,” you reply, a soft smile gracing your lips.

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer as the glow of the Christmas tree bathes the room in a gentle light. For a moment, the world outside ceases to exist. It’s just the two of you, standing together in the quiet magic of the season.

And in that peaceful, glitter-dusted silence, you know this is what the season—and your life together—is all about.

[theonottsbxtch]

FOREVER AND ALWAYS | MV1

an: military au go reeeee, my friend is currently talking to a marine so it makes this funnier, anyway this is a request and be prepared for how much im about to post, im posting all my wips so i can start a new

wc: 3.8k

THE LAST MORNING MAX spent in town was unseasonably warm for late September, but she still wore his old hoodie over her dress. It swallowed her, the cuffs rolled up clumsily so her fingers could peek through. Max liked seeing her in it; she made it look softer than it ever felt to him. They sat on the hood of his truck by the edge of the lake, the same spot they always went to when something big needed to be said.

“You’ll write, right?” she asked, her voice steadier than the fingers twisting the hem of his sleeve.

Max didn’t answer right away. He hated promises. He hated making them and breaking them even more. But he wasn’t going to break this one. “Every day,” he said, his voice a little rough. “I mean it, okay? You’ll be sick of me by Christmas.”

“I could never,” she said, and the words felt too small for how much she meant them.

The sun caught in her hair, and Max felt the ache of leaving settle deeper in his chest. He should’ve been relieved—one last night in this town, in that house—but all he could think about was how hard it was going to be to drive away from her in the morning.

“I’ll write back every time,” she promised, her eyes locked on his like she could hold him here through sheer willpower. “Don’t you dare stop.”

“I won’t.”

It was the closest thing to forever they’d ever said to each other, and Max wanted to believe it could be.

He didn’t sleep much that night. Max stayed parked outside her house long after walking her to the door, watching the glow of her bedroom light until it finally went dark. He told himself he’d leave when she was asleep, but his hands stayed glued to the steering wheel, his heart beating louder than the crickets outside.

Morning came too fast. He stood on her porch in his pressed uniform, his duffel slung over his shoulder. Her dad answered the door, grunted something about “too early for this,” and disappeared back into the house. Max heard her footsteps upstairs, quick and light, and then there she was, rushing down to meet him, already wearing a smile he didn’t deserve.

“You’re really doing it,” she said, her voice tight with something caught between pride and fear.

“I am.”

She stepped closer, her fingers brushing the crisp fabric of his sleeve. “You’re going to be okay, right?”

Max didn’t know how to answer that. He could handle the yelling, the rules, the miles of running. But leaving her? That felt like the first real battle.

“You’re the toughest guy I know,” she added softly, filling the silence.

“Tough’s not the same as okay,” he admitted, his voice low.

“Then I’ll be okay for both of us.”

The words hit him harder than he expected, wrapping around something fragile in his chest. He leaned down and kissed her, quick and desperate, like he could steal a little of her steadiness to take with him.

When they finally broke apart, she laughed softly, her forehead still resting against his. “You’re coming back, Max. Don’t forget that.”

“I won’t,” he said.

He didn’t know if it was a promise or a prayer.

The bus station was quiet that early in the morning, just a couple of strangers milling around with their heads down and coffee in hand. Max stood off to the side with her, his duffel at his feet and his hands shoved deep into his pockets to keep from grabbing hers. She said she couldn’t come, but watching him walk back to the truck made her call in sick for work and follow him in. 

“You should go sit,” he said, nodding toward the bench near the car park.

She gave him a look, one eyebrow raised in challenge. “I’m not leaving this spot until you’re on that bus.”

A faint smile tugged at his lips. Of course she wouldn’t. She was stubborn like that, always had been. He loved her for it, even if it made saying goodbye harder.

The bus pulled up, its brakes hissing as it rolled to a stop. Max felt the weight of the moment settle on his shoulders, heavier than the duffel. This was it.

He turned to her, unsure of what to say. Every word that came to mind felt too big or too small.

“Write me first,” she said, breaking the silence. Her voice was soft, but her eyes burned with determination. “As soon as you get there. Don’t wait for me to start.”

“I will,” he said, nodding. “Every day, remember?”

She smiled at that, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, holding on so tightly it felt like she was trying to anchor him there.

He let himself hold her back, burying his face in her hair for just a moment. He wasn’t going to cry. He wouldn’t let himself.

“I’ll see you after training,” she whispered against his chest, her voice shaking just a little. “I’ll be there, Max.”

He pulled back, cupping her face in his hands. “You promise?”

“I promise.”

The driver called for boarding, and Max grabbed his bag. He didn’t look back as he stepped onto the bus. He couldn’t. If he did, he might not get on at all.

But as the bus pulled away, he glanced out the window. She was still standing there, exactly where he left her, her hand raised in a wave he couldn’t return.

He pressed his forehead against the glass, the weight of her promise settling in his chest. She would be there. He had to believe it.

Training was relentless.

The early mornings were the worst—before the sun even thought about rising, before his body remembered how to move. They ran until their legs felt like they’d snap beneath them, did push-ups until their arms gave out, and marched under the weight of packs that felt heavier with every mile. The shouting never stopped, every mistake earning a punishment meant to break them down and rebuild them into something sharper, stronger.

But it was nothing compared to what Max had already endured.

At home, the yelling was never meant to make him stronger. The bruises weren’t badges of discipline—they were reminders of how small he was made to feel. Every time he hit the ground during training, his drill sergeant barking at him to get up, Max thought of how often he’d done the same thing in that house. He got up then, and he got up now.

The other guys complained at night, lying on their bunks and licking their wounds, but Max didn’t join in. They didn’t know how lucky they were—how much easier it was to run ten miles when there wasn’t a door slamming behind you or fists flying to match.

And then there were the letters.

Her first one came the day after he arrived, folded neatly into an envelope with her handwriting scrawled across the front. The sight of it made his chest ache, and he didn’t even wait to get back to the barracks to read it.

Hey, tough guy. I hope this gets to you quick. Are they making you run as much as I think they are? Do you miss me? I miss you. It’s been one day and this town already feels different without you. Keep writing, okay? I’ll keep writing too. Just don’t let them make you forget who you are, Max. I love you.

The letters became his lifeline. Every night, after lights-out, he’d sit on the edge of his bunk with a flashlight and write her back. He told her about the blisters on his feet, the meals that barely qualified as food, the drill sergeant who could make a grown man cry with a single word. But he also told her how he was getting stronger, faster, better—how he thought about her every time things got too hard.

She didn’t just write about missing him. Her letters were full of details—what their friends were up to, how the leaves were starting to change by the lake, what songs were playing on the radio. She made him feel like he wasn’t missing everything. Like she was keeping his place for him.

The days blurred together after a while, a constant cycle of exhaustion and repetition. But then, one morning, everything felt different.

It was the last day of training.

Max stood in formation with the others, the sun rising behind them as their drill sergeant paced in front of the line. They’d been through hell together—guys who had started as strangers now felt like brothers. But Max wasn’t thinking about them.

He was thinking about her.

He scanned the crowd of families waiting just beyond the training field, his heart pounding harder than it ever had during a run. She had said she’d be here. She promised.

And then he saw her.

She was standing near the back, craning her neck to see over the heads of taller people in front of her. When their eyes met, she smiled so brightly that for a second, everything else—the noise, the exhaustion, the fear—fell away.

Max’s throat tightened, but he forced himself to focus. One last task. One last push. He would finish this, and then he’d go to her.

And this time, he wouldn’t have to leave too soon.

Max’s heart hammered as the ceremony came to a close. The drill sergeant dismissed them with a sharp bark, and the tension that had held the recruits in place finally broke. Families surged forward, cheers and hugs filling the air. Max stood frozen for a moment, scanning the crowd again until he saw her pushing through the mass of people, her face a mix of determination and joy.

She was exactly how he remembered her, but somehow even better. Her hair bounced as she hurried toward him, and the familiar tilt of her smile made his chest ache. And yet, as soon as she stopped a few feet in front of him, she planted her hands on her hips like she had all the time in the world.

“Well, well,” she said, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Hey there, tough guy.”

Max swallowed hard, trying to keep his composure. But her teasing grin made the corner of his mouth twitch, threatening to break into a smile he wasn’t supposed to give just yet.

From behind her, one of his barrack mates, Danny came up and watched her as she eyed up Max. When she noticed him, he nodded at her. “Ma’am.”

She snorted, shaking her head. “Don’t ‘ma’am’ me, I’m only young.” She stepped closer, looking at Max once more, her expression shifting to exaggerated awe. “That’s a whole lot of muscles you’ve got there now. What’ve they been feeding you?”

Max tried not to laugh, but he couldn’t stop his lips from curving upward.

“You’re not supposed to touch the recruits until they’ve been tapped out,” Danny said, his voice low, playful.

She raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by Max’s attempt at staying serious. “Is that so? Guess I’ll have to keep my hands to myself for a minute longer, huh?”

He held her gaze, the tension building between them until it was almost unbearable. She took another step forward, her smile softening into something sweeter, something he’d missed so much it hurt.

“Max,” she said quietly, her voice just loud enough for him to hear over the noise around them.

And then, finally, she reached out and tapped his shoulder.

That was all it took. Max didn’t hesitate—he dropped his duffel to the ground and swept her into his arms, lifting her clean off the ground. She laughed, but it broke halfway through, and then she was crying, her face buried in his shoulder.

“I missed you,” she said, her voice muffled against his uniform.

Max held her tighter, his eyes stinging as he pressed his cheek against her hair. “I missed you too,” he murmured, his voice thick.

For a moment, neither of them moved. She clung to him like she was afraid he might disappear, and Max let himself soak in the feel of her in his arms—the warmth, the softness, the familiarity he’d craved every single day he was gone.

When she finally pulled back, her hands stayed on his shoulders, her fingers brushing against the hard muscle beneath his uniform. She tilted her head, a teasing smile breaking through her tears. “Seriously, Max. What’s with these muscles? You didn’t look like this when you left.”

He chuckled, the sound low and rough, and shook his head. “Had to give you something to brag about, didn’t I?”

She laughed, swiping at her cheeks with the sleeve of her sweater. “Oh, I’m definitely bragging. You’re not going anywhere without me showing you off first.”

“Not going anywhere without you at all,” Max said softly.

Her smile faltered for just a second, her eyes filling again. “Good,” she whispered. “Because I’m not letting you go.”

He cupped her face gently, leaning in until their foreheads touched. “You’re stuck with me now.”

“Always,” she said, and for the first time in months, Max felt like he was finally home.

As they were about to kiss, a cough disrupted them. Danny. “Are you done?”

“Leave me alone Danny, I’ve seen enough of you.” Max laughed, pulling her in closer. 

“I’m heading out, my girl’s at the car but I’ll see you soon, yeah?” Danny asked, taking off his hat and running his hand through it.

“Yeah you will. See you soon Dan.”

The desert heat was unrelenting, the sun beating down on Max and Danny as they sat outside their barracks during a rare moment of downtime. Max leaned against a wall, his cap pulled low over his eyes, but it wasn’t enough to shield him from Danny’s relentless teasing.

“You’ve been staring at that box for five minutes, man,” Danny said, smirking as he leaned back in his chair. “You sure you don’t want me to take it off your hands? I’d do a solid job proposing to her, you know.”

Max shot him a look, his jaw tightening, though there was no real heat behind it. “Touch it, and I’ll bury you in the sand.”

Danny snorted, tossing a rock lazily across the dusty ground. “Relax, lover boy. I’m just saying—you’ve had that ring for months. You’ve got the whole speech planned, don’t you? ‘I’ve loved you since we were kids, you’re my whole world,’ blah, blah, blah. Bet you even practiced in the mirror.”

Max rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help the faint smile tugging at his lips. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small velvet box, flipping it open to reveal the simple but elegant ring inside. He didn’t need anything flashy—she wouldn’t want that. The ring was perfect: timeless, just like her.

“I don’t need a speech,” Max said quietly, running his thumb along the edge of the box. “She already knows. She’s known since before I left the first time.”

Danny’s teasing grin softened into something more genuine. “She’s a lucky girl, you know. Not everyone would stick around through all this.”

“She’s not sticking around,” Max corrected, his voice firm. “She’s living her life—uni, friends, everything she’s always wanted. She’s just...waiting for me to come back, too.”

Danny whistled low. “Well, when you put it like that, I guess you’re the lucky one.”

Max didn’t argue. He thought about her every day—her laugh, the way she scribbled little doodles in the corners of her letters, the photo she’d sent him of her sitting on the quad with her textbooks spread out around her. She looked happy, and that was what mattered most to him.

But God, he missed her.

“I’ll ask her when we’re off duty,” Max said, snapping the box shut and tucking it safely back into his pocket. “The next time I get to see her, I’m not waiting. I’m not wasting another minute.”

Danny grinned, tipping his chair back on two legs. “You’re gonna make me cry, man. I’m just glad I’ll be there to see it.”

“You’re not invited.”

“Like hell I’m not.”

They both laughed, the kind of laugh that felt rare in a place like this. For a moment, the heaviness of deployment lifted, replaced by something lighter—hope.

But when the laughter faded, Max’s mind drifted back to her. He pictured her sitting in a lecture hall, twirling a pen between her fingers, her hair catching the sunlight. She’d promised him that first day he left that she’d always be there waiting for him, and she had never broken that promise.

And soon—so soon—he’d finally get to make one to her.

The cab pulled up to her apartment building, a modest brick complex tucked onto a quiet street just off campus. Max stared out the window, his heart thundering in his chest. It didn’t matter that he’d seen her a year ago on leave or that they’d talked just last week on a grainy video call. Being here, knowing she was just a flight of stairs away, made it all feel brand new.

Danny’s words echoed in his head as he grabbed his bag and climbed out. Don’t mess this up, man. She’s been waiting long enough.

The door to her unit opened before he could even knock. There she was, framed in the doorway, wearing an oversized sweater and leggings, her hair falling loose around her shoulders. She broke into a smile so bright it felt like the sun had come out, and before he could say a word, she threw her arms around his neck.

“Max!” she breathed, holding onto him like she never wanted to let go.

He dropped his bag and wrapped her up, burying his face in her hair. She smelled like home, like everything he’d missed.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice catching.

She pulled back just enough to look at him, her hands sliding to his shoulders. “You’re here. You’re actually here.”

“I’m here.”

She laughed, the sound a little shaky, and grabbed his hand, tugging him inside. “Come on, I made dinner. It’s probably cold by now, but I didn’t want to risk leaving the kitchen in case—”

She didn’t get to finish.

Max stopped dead in the small kitchen, his eyes scanning the space—the mismatched dishes on the counter, the vase of sunflowers he recognised from her letters, the magnets on the fridge holding up her class schedule and pictures of them together. It was perfect.

And suddenly, he couldn’t wait.

“This wasn’t how I planned it,” he muttered, mostly to himself.

“What?” She turned, confusion flickering in her eyes.

Max dropped to one knee right there in the middle of the kitchen, pulling the velvet box from his pocket. He saw her gasp, her hands flying to her mouth, but he was too focused to stop now.

“I wasn’t going to do it like this,” he said, the words tumbling out. “I had a whole plan—something big and romantic—but I don’t care about plans anymore. I just...I love you. I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember, and I don’t want to wait another second to ask.” He opened the box, his hands steady despite the chaos in his chest. “Will you marry me?”

She froze, her wide eyes locked on his. The silence stretched, and Max felt a flicker of panic.

“So?” he said, his voice cracking slightly.

That broke her. She let out a choked laugh, tears spilling down her cheeks as she dropped to her knees in front of him. “I’m sorry! I’m just—yes! Of course, yes!”

Her arms went around his neck, and she kissed him fiercely, her tears wetting his face. Max held her close, the ring box forgotten on the floor as he kissed her back, pouring every bit of love and relief into the moment.

When they finally broke apart, she laughed through her tears, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “You really couldn’t wait, huh?”

“Not for this,” he said, his voice low and raw.

She smiled and kissed him again, slower this time, her hands sliding down to rest against his chest. Max stood, lifting her with him effortlessly, and set her on the edge of the counter.

“Max,” she murmured, her hands slipping beneath the collar of his shirt.

“Yeah?” he said, his forehead resting against hers.

“Welcome home.”

He smiled against her lips, capturing them in another kiss, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Max let himself feel it all—the love, the relief, the joy of knowing he was exactly where he was meant to be.

Dinner had been a blur, both of them too giddy and caught up in the moment to care that the food was lukewarm and hastily reheated. They laughed, talked, and stole kisses between bites, the kind of easy affection that felt like they’d never been apart.

Now, hours later, they were tangled together in her bed. The room was dark save for the soft glow of the streetlight filtering through the blinds. She lay draped across his chest, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his skin, her eyes fixed on the ring now resting snugly on her finger.

“How are we going to do this?” she asked quietly, her voice thoughtful but tinged with uncertainty.

Max’s hand came up to stroke her back, his thumb brushing along her shoulder blade. He let out a soft sigh. “I leave in three months.”

She stilled for a moment, her finger pausing mid-trace.

“But,” he added, his voice warm and steady, “until then, we live the happy life. All of it. You, me, late-night takeout, bad movies, everything.”

She tilted her head up to look at him, her brow furrowing slightly. “Three months isn’t that long, Max. And I’m still at uni. I’ve got two more years. How—”

“We’ve made it work for two years while I’m away,” he interrupted gently, cupping her cheek with one hand. “We can do two more. You’ve been with me through everything—every deployment, every letter, every call. This won’t be any different. Except now,” he added, his lips quirking into a small smile, “you’ll be my fiancée.”

Her lips trembled, and she leaned up to kiss him, slow and deliberate, her hand slipping over his to hold it against her cheek. When she finally pulled back, her eyes shone with determination.

“You’re really bad at letting me be dramatic, you know that?” she teased softly.

“Someone’s gotta keep you in check,” he said with a smirk.

She laughed quietly, settling back against his chest, and Max tightened his arms around her. They lay there in silence for a while, her fingers once again toying with the ring as if she couldn’t quite believe it was real.

He was engaged.

He was happy.

And he was going to marry the love of his life.

the end.

[bonbonly]

Max V giving reader a wedgie, like the front ones idk what it’s called but pulling it so tight that you can see her clit protruding and then just slapping it. He makes me crazy I’m sorry

YOU... ANON DON'T BE SORRY, YOU JUST REAWAKENED A RANDOM ASS KINK I HAD A FEW MONTHS AGO WOWWWW

bon's thoughts (18+)

max after a frustrating race where he doesn't get podium nor points, but he sees his darling girlfriend cheering on his rival, charles, who managed to win the race? oh he's furious. he knows deep down you were just too sweet for your own good, and he wants to let it slide.

until his eyes travel downwards and he sees that tiny miniskirt you're wearing, practically showing the entire damn paddock your underwear. he's a bit impressed at your audacity, and he rips his balaclava off, excusing himself from the team for a moment before grabbing your arm and dragging you off to his driver's room.

"max, im so sorry about your race!" you exclaim, and he rolls his eyes,

"I bet you were, wearing that...." he gestures to your miniskirt, which has you frowning,

"i think its cute..."

"yeah cute, when all that's needed is a gust of wind to see your underwear," he scoffs, pushing you to the wall. he hikes the miniskirt up to reveal your lace underwear and he smirks, "lace? for today? was it for charles?"

"max," you scowl, "why would i-"

you're interrupted because he's rubbing your barely covered cunt with his fingers, watching the words die on your lips as you're whimpering. you want him to push that fabric to the side just for his fingers to touch you where you really wanted, but instead he bunches up the front of your panties and pulls it upward, watching you cry out in pain... and was it pleasure?

"you were saying?" he taunts, giving a few tugs that has your mind spinning. all you can do is moan, watching him tug faster and harder. it burned in the best way possible, something that you didn't even know you needed until now. your clit's all puffy and swollen, drenching the thin cloth and max tugs as hard as he can, watching you shriek out before he places a firm slap right on your clit that has you whimpering, begging for more.

"you like that, don't you? you like when i treat you like my little slut?" he scoffs, twisting the fabric in his fingers and tugging once more, your legs are about to give out when he smacks your aching clit once more. you shake your head, but he knows you're lying.

"don't lie to me slut, i know you like this," he sneers, and his tugs become faster, watching you let out a high pitched wail when his thumb joins to rub circles on your puffy clit. it's all too much for you, and youre just about to cum when he pulls away, slapping your needy pussy before pulling the skirt back down. you watch him in shock as he walks to the door with a grin on his face, "sluts dont get to cum, schatje. if i win the next race, i'll consider letting you."

[nichmeddar]

max verstappen

A GOOD SURPRISE / MAX VERSTAPPEN

max verstappen x girlfriend (soon to be fiancé) reader

FACE CLAIM / none!

WARNINGS / some teasing in the comments

-

TEXT MESSAGES

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INSTAGRAM

liked by yourusername, schecoperez, and 663,772 others

maxverstappen1 surprise trip for Y/N!!!

view all comments

yourusername SOMEONE TELL ME

yourusername I BEG 🙏🙏🙏🙏

maxverstappen1 nope

user5 aww cute

user7 the heart ❤️❤️❤️

landonorris she looks done with you 😂😂

yourusername I JUST WANT TO KNOW WHERE HES TAKING ME

maxverstappen1 it’s a surprise so no

yourusername lando…. what do you know?

landonorris i plead the fifth or whatever

yourusername your not even american!

-

INSTAGRAM

liked by maxverstappen1, carolamtz1, and 235,711 others

yourusername finally landed 🤍🐚 @/maxverstappen1

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user345 your hair!!! so pretty

user67 aww so cute

user8 i spot max in the last photo 🤭

user4 it’s the heineken that makes it obvious

yourusername he always ordering them 🤦🏼‍♀️

user67 ☺️☺️☺️ enjoy your trip!

carolamtz1 🥰🥰🥰🥰

yourusername ❤️❤️

user60 the redbull wags!!

maxverstappen1 mijn liefje [my love]

yourusername i love you! 💗💗💗

user7 oh for max to speak dutch to me 🤞🤞

user89 more importantly for max to call me “my love”

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INSTAGRAM

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maxverstappen1 to spending my life with my love

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user57 OMGDF OMDG

user78 FREAKING OUT !!!!!!!!!!!!

user52 should’ve been me 😿😿😿

schecoperez congratulations 🎉

landonorris @/yourusername did he force you to say yes?

yourusername he bribed me actually 😁

maxverstappen1 LIAR!

pierregasly 👏🙌🎊

user56 i’m so happy for them

oscarpiastri wow!!!! congratulations 🎉

user30 that sounded sarcastic

sebastianvettel congratulations to the two of you!

maxverstappen1 thank you!

user300 i’m gonna cry seb

user8 miss my man 🐝

danielricciardo beyond happy for you!

maxverstappen1 thank you danny

-

INSTAGRAM

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yourusername couldn’t be happier 🥹🥹

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user7 CONGRATULATIONS 💗💗💗

user810 the ring 😍

victoriaverstappen so happy for you two!

yourusername 🤍☺️

user00 can’t wait for your wedding!

user3 i’m so happy!

francisca.cgomes the ring!!! so gorgeous ❤️

yourusername ily!!!

user088 can’t wait to see the dress!

maxverstappen1 i love you 😘

yourusername i love you so so much

user55 can’t wait to see max in a suit…. 😏

user654 real

landonorris 👏👏👏👏👏

danielricciardo can’t wait for the wedding!

-

SWEETERLOVERS - sorry for being so inactive lately :((

TAG LIST 🏷️ @pear-1206 @fulla02 @depressed-crayon @a-beaverhausen

[papaya-twinks]

is peace and quiet illegal? - m.v

Warnings: Smut, 18+, praise, degradation, fingering, oral (f receiving)

Pairing: Max Verstappen x fem!reader

“Max,” you moaned, completely ignoring the cold air hitting your back. He had been teasing you for ages, his tongue running up an down your folds, his fingers teasing ever so close to your clit, but never giving you what you wanted.

“Mhm?” he asked, his voice not fully focused on your words, more on his fingers, now soaking with your wetness, pumping tantalisingly slowly through your folds. “F-Fuck me, please,” you gasped, almost breathless from the teasing.

You’d been refusing to say it, refusing to beg for his cock, your pride too high for you to beg for something, but at this point, you were almost high anyways, why not just give in? It wasn’t that embarrassing anyways, and you were desperate.

“M-Max,” you whined, your back arching weakly as he flicked his tongue through your folds, his nose rubbing at your clit, your legs quivering with need, the remnants of your previous 4 orgasms trickling down your thighs.

“Hm?” Max mumbled into your core, the sound sending a vibration through your core. “N-Need your cock,” you stuttered, “p-lease…now- please,” you said, your voice and words coming out in a messy heap, stumbling through your lips.

“That so?” he straightened, watching your legs writhe from the loss of contact. “C’mon, Y/N,” he tapped your cheek with his index finger, undoing his belt, his cock springing into his hand, “I know you can beg better than that,”.

You gasped, your eyes fluttering closed as the pad of his thumb pressed onto you clit, moving away as quickly as it had come. “Max,” you whined, “p-please, your c-cock, I need it p-please,” you said hurriedly, “p-please,”.

God, you sounded desperate, but did you care? No. You moaned as he turned your over, your tummy pressed against the mattress as he pumped himself still spreading his pre-cum across his thick length, twitching in his own hand.

“That’s it,” he said, encouraging you as he brought his tip between your folds, aligning with your entrance. “Max, f-fuck,” you gripped onto higher bed sheets, his head inching through into you, your core welcoming him with a gush of warmth.

“Fuck,” he groaned, one hand bunching into your hair, the other on your cheek, his thumb running over the cushion of your lower lip. “So fuckin’ tight,” he mumbled, leaning forwards, his back pressed against yours.

His thrusts were quick and sharp, snapping into the perfect place every time he moved, his warmth breath across your neck as his cock plunged into your heat, again and again, extracting moans and squeaks and shrieks from your lips.

“Max, oh my-,” you cut yourself off with a loud moan as his hips suddenly slowed down, his cock pushing deep inside of you, slowly yet forcefully. He did it all the time - changing up the steady slam of his hips every now and then.

You were close, you could feel it in your core, and so was Max, as he sped up once more, his thrusts sloppier and sloppier, the lewd sounds of his cock hitting your g-spot echoing through the room, endless and pushing you closer to the edge.

You squealed, bunching your fists into the bedsheets as your fifth orgasm hit, his cock plunging deep into you as his cum lined your cunt, his seed spilling down your thighs as your legs shook, his hands coming down to squeeze at the flesh of your ass.

“That was heavenly,” he groaned, kissing the supple skin of your neck as he turned you over, pulling you to lay on his chest. “Merry Christmas…in a few days,” he mumbled, kissing your forehead softly, “I love you,”.

“Love y’too,” you mumbled, clearly fucked out your mind.

[the-offside-rule]

Max Verstappen (Red Bull Racing) - Turbo

Day 18 of Christmas

Prompt: New Kitten

25 Days of Christmas

Y/n had planned everything down to the last detail. The moment Max mentioned in passing how much he missed having a cat around, she knew what her Christmas gift to him would be: a fluffy, adorable kitten. It had taken weeks of careful planning, researching different breeds, and finally, picking the perfect little furball. A gray tabby with bright blue eyes, full of energy and curiosity. It was supposed to be a Christmas morning reveal, the kitten dressed in a red bow, Max's surprise written all over his face. But as the days ticked closer, hiding the kitten was proving to be more difficult than she had anticipated.

The first close call had come just two days after she brought the kitten home. She’d set up a cozy little nook for him in a spare room Max rarely entered. But Max, always unpredictable, had wandered in looking for his misplaced phone charger. Y/n had bolted to block the door, feigning an over-exaggerated yawn as she claimed to need a 'sudden nap' in the spare room. Max had given her a puzzled look but shrugged it off, wandering back out. The kitten, sensing her panic, let out a tiny meow just as Max closed the door. Y/n held her breath, but Max hadn’t noticed. Close call number one.

Then there was the time Max had suggested they clean up the house a bit before their holiday guests arrived. Y/n had desperately tried to keep him away from the kitten’s hiding spot, redirecting him to the living room and kitchen with promises of a racing documentary binge session.

Finally, there had been the time Max almost caught her sneaking a bag of kitten food into the house. She’d told him it was a new 'special blend of granola', which, to her surprise, he hadn’t questioned too much. But it was getting harder to juggle the secret. The kitten was growing bolder, sneaking out of his room more frequently, and Y/n worried that Max would notice the sound of tiny paws scurrying around when they were both home.

It was still.another week until Christmas, and Y/n felt victorious as she crawled into bed next to Max. Just one more week, and the surprise would be perfect. The kitten, now growing fond of its surroundings, was tucked away in its little corner with a new blanket and toys. She drifted off to sleep, excitement bubbling within her. The next morning, Y/n woke to an unusual sound. A soft, persistent purring. She opened her eyes groggily and immediately froze. There, at the foot of the bed, curled up comfortably between Max’s legs, was the kitten. Her heart raced. This wasn’t supposed to happen yet! She had planned everything so carefully!

Max stirred beside her, his face scrunching in confusion as the purring grew louder. His hand moved instinctively towards the soft fur, and then he paused, his eyes fluttering open. A smile slowly spread across his face, full of sleepy wonderment. “Y/n…” He mumbled, his voice laced with awe. “There’s a kitten... on the bed.” Y/n bit her lip, her heart pounding. “Uh, surprise?”

Max sat up slightly, his hand gently stroking the kitten, who purred louder at the touch. His sleepy eyes widened in realization as he turned to her, the biggest grin spreading across his face. “Where did it come from?” Y/n sighed, giving up the game early. “He’s yours, Max. I was going to surprise you for Christmas, but... looks like he had other plans.” Max laughed, a genuine, warm laugh that filled the room. “You got me a kitten?”

“I know you’ve been wanting another cat and I paid for him before we got Donut. So... Merry Christmas.” She said, feeling a mix of embarrassment and relief. Max didn’t say anything for a moment. He simply stared at the tiny ball of fluff now nuzzling into his lap, his expression softening. When he finally spoke, his voice was thick with emotion.

“Oh he's so cute, Y/n.” He looked at her with a tenderness that made her heart swell. “This is the best gift. I don’t even care that it’s a day early.” Y/n smiled, reaching out to stroke the kitten alongside him. “I’m just glad you love him.” Max chuckled as the kitten batted at his hand playfully. “What’s his name?”

“I was going to let you decide.” Y/n said with a grin. “I have nicknamed him Turbo though. He zooms arlund the apartment a lot.” Max thought for a moment, his hand still running through the kitten’s soft fur. “How about we stick with Turbo?” Y/n burst out laughing. “Turbo? Really?” Max’s face lit up. “What? If he's quick, and he’s going to be the fastest cat in the world.”

Shaking her head with a smile, Y/n leaned in closer to Max. “Alright, Turbo it is.” As the kitten curled up between them, content and happy, Y/n couldn’t help but feel that despite the mishap, everything had turned out perfectly. Max’s smile, the warmth of their little family growing by one, and the soft purring filling the room—it was, without a doubt, a Christmas to remember.

“Thank you, Y/n.” Max whispered, his arm wrapping around her as they lay back down together. “Merry Christmas, Max.” she whispered back.

[no-144444]

redbull & vcarb masterlist!

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max verstappen

congratulations max shows the whole world something new after his fourth world championship win.

temptations you and max are on break and things get out of hand. nothing like tmz to mess things up, right?

Happy accident! two words. Las Vegas.

m4x max wins, and finally, he's done.

fulfilled max reflects on his life.

daniel riccardo

smile, even though it’s breaking daniel is your older brother's best friend who you can't stand. it's his last race, and your last chance to speak your mind

liam lawson

a story for a dinner party (18+) stuck in an elevator with your boyfriend, whatever will you do? (fuck.)

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[nichmeddar]

​max verstappen

You are the best thing that's ever been mine - Part 6

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Ariel Cane (Original Character)

Summary: Sao Paulo 2024. The Dutchman delivered a defining drive…but maybe there is a relationship that could also use some defining. 

Warnings: Jos Verstappen, angst, crying, mention of pregnancy, mention of sex and sexual acts, physical confrontation

Author Notes: Hi, hey, hello! Apparently I write F1 Fanfiction now?! Also this is the first time I am trying a social media au so my Canva Skills were put to the test. (Disclaimer: I kinda put legibility over authencity, so twitter doesn't look like twitter and messages looks like...something) Also huge thanks to @onebigfangirlworld and @leodette for holding my hand with this 😘)

Ariel couldn’t remember a time when she had been that content.

The bed was warm and comfortable and the duvet was fluffy and Max was holding her… Max's arms were wrapped securely around her, his body pressed against hers in a warm and comfortable tangle of limbs.

He nuzzled his face into her hair, inhaling her scent, his breath warm against her neck. He was still sleeping, but even in his sleep he was holding her. 

Ariel could spend hours like that.

Sadly her bladder had other plans.

Reluctantly, Ariel carefully extracted herself from Max, trying not to wake him. She slid out of bed slowly, trying not to wake him. 

The hardwood floor was cold under her bare feet as she padded quietly into the bathroom, her mind still slightly clouded with a bit of grogginess. By the time she was finished in the bathroom, she was wide awake.

IT was still early enough in the morning that there was no need for her to wake up Max, so she took her phone and quietly left the bedroom in favour of the living room and hopefully something to drink.That...and a call to her sister.

She curled up on the sofa, her phone in hand, dialing her sisters number. 

Emma picked up, immediately. "You totally left me hanging there!" Emma greeted her complaining. "I am so happy for you, Ari!"

Ariel couldn't help but giggle softly at her sister's teasing tone. "I know, I'm sorry," Ariel replied, a hint of sheepishness in her voice. "But I promise I'll tell you all the details later, I just..." She trailed off, her thoughts still swirling in her head.

"Is later now?!" Emma demanded. "You can't just tell me that you put the guy that has been madly in love with you for 5 years out of his misery and expect me to be normal about it!"

Ariel laughed softly, shaking her head at her sister's dramatic tone.

"Okay, okay, calm down," she said, trying to placate Emma's enthusiasm.

Ariel couldn't help but smile at her sister's excitement, knowing that Emma had always hoped for this to happen between her and Max."I just needed some time to process everything," Ariel explained, leaning back aganst the sofa.

"It's all still very..." Ariel searched for the right word, trying to describe the whirlwind of emotions she was feeling. "It's just a lot to process, you know? We finally took that step, and it's...I don't even know how to describe it," she continued, her voice quieter now.

It was a lot. 

"It's exhilarating, and terrifying, and everything in between. I just...I can't believe it's really happening, you know? That after all this time,  it's finally real," she said weakly. "I didn't think...I didn't think it would ever happen to me. And I don't think that I deserve..."

"Stop," Emma cut her off. "You do deserve this, Ariel. You deserve all the good things the world has to offer."Ariel closed her eyes for a moment, letting Emma's words sink in.

"I just... I'm afraid," she confessed quietly. "What if it all falls apart? What if it's too good to be true?"

Emma sighed. "There are never guarantees," her sister told her seriously. "We know that better than most. We lost Mom...and then 5 years later we lost Dad. And it sucked, Ariel. That we only had such a short time with our parents. But...this is Max we're talking about. He adores you, he's literally obsessed with you. I don't think you need to worry about him up and leaving anytime soon.

Emma was right, of course. Max was loyal and steadfast. He had proven that countless times over the past five years.

She let out a small sigh, feeling some of the tension in her shoulders ease.

"You're right," she admitted. "I'm just...I'm scared, I guess. Scared of getting hurt, scared of being too happy."

"It's okay to be scared, Ari," Emma said, her voice gentle and reassuring. "But you can't let it hold you back. You and Max...you're good for each other. You've danced around it for a long time, but you both knew it. And now..." Emma paused significantly. "You finally took the leap. It's time to enjoy it."

Ariel knew Emma was right. 

She took a deep breath. "You're right," she repeated. "I need to stop worrying and just...enjoy this. Enjoy him.”

"Yeah, shouldn't you still be in bed celebrating his amazing, groundbreaking win?" Ariel teased her.

Ariel let out a soft laugh, feeling heat rising in her cheeks.

"You're terrible," she teased back, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips.

But inside, her stomach fluttered just thinking about Max.

"He's still sleeping," she admitted, her voice a whisper. "Last night...last night was a lot."She shifted a little, feeling her heart skip at the memories of Max's touch, the way his body had felt pressed against her, the taste of his kisses.

Emma harrumphed. "I still want to kill his father," her sister said drily. "How are you? Really, Ariel."

"Nausea is gone. I got a bruise on my cheek but that's it," Ariel reported honestly. "I'm doing okay," she assured her sister. "Yesterday was just... intense."

Probably the understatement of the century.

Ariel reached up, gently tracing the small bruise on her cheekbone. It ached a bit, swollen and hot to the touch. 

"But Max..." Ariel paused, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Max...was there. He makes everything better.”

Emma harrumphed. "Let him take care of you," her sister told her pointedly. "I need to get ready for work right about now, but we'll talk more soon."

"We'll be in Milton Keynes next week," Ariel promised her. There were three weeks between Brazil and Las Vegas. They would fly back to Monaco later that day and would be to Milton Keynes at least once during the next 3 weeks. 

"BRING HIM TO DINNER!" her sister said as farewell, making her laugh.

Ariel knew that this wasn’t a simple inner invitation, but more an invitation to be the one cooking said dinner.

"Love you," she told Emma softly in response.

"Love you too, Sis!" Emma sing-songed, as she hung up on her. 

Talking to her sister had done her good. It always did. She felt a bit lighter, more grounded.

And still, her thoughts were swirling. 

Of course, they were. 

They were right in the middle of a complete and utter mess. 

Between the media and betting pools about their romantic relationship…and the fact that the two of them han’t even had a proper talk with just the two of them…it was a lot. 

But underneath it all, she felt safe. Safe knowing that Max would be by her side.

And then her stomach growled and Ariel decided that room service was definitely in her future.

"Breakfast it is," she said to herself. 

What she hadn't expected was for the hotel room to end up looking like a flower shop after breakfast had arrived. Hotel Staff had not only brought breakfast...but also not one, not two, but four bouquets of flowers. With her name on them.

Ariel couldn't help but stare at them with no small amount of trepidation.

Ariel could deal with the bouquet of pink carnation, which were from Christian in the name of Red Bull...she also could deal with a wildly colourful bouquet from Franco Colapinto of all people...another bouquet of Amaryllis from some of the mechanics from Max's garage, which was adorable...but she couldn't deal with a massive bouquet of blood red roses.

They were beautiful. Of course, they were.

And they also made her want to throw up. Again. 

Red roses would always remind her of one thing. And one thing only.

Her mother's funeral.

Ariel let out a shaky breath. Memories flooded her mind, each image more vivid than the last.

It was deeply engrained into her brain. Even 15 years later. She still remembered all of it.  The sharp, sweet fragrance of the roses, the deep crimson of the petals, the stark white of the casket...

She remembered. The mournful sobs of the guests. The tears streaming down Ariel's own face...the tears streaming down Emma's face...Percy, who had disappeared off to university as soon as he could afterwards...Their father who had never been the same...

Their father had died 5 years later. Also Cancer. Granted, a different kind...not the breast cancer that had killed her mother...but...but Ariel still thought that it hadn't been the cancer that had killed him. It had been his broken heart.

He hadn’t put up a fight anymore. Not after her death. He had never been quite the same after. 

Ariel closed her eyes, trying to push the memories back into the dark corners of her mind. She had gotten quite good at that. But sometimes they would catch her unaware, like now.

Slowly, she took the card from the bouquet. 

Max knew. Max knew about her hatred for red roses. She had told him once how every time she even smelled them, she wanted to throw up. Why would he...Why would he...

Her fingers trembled slightly as she unfolded the card, her heart beating rapidly in her chest. 

Why woul he do that?

 Why would Max send her red roses? He knew what they meant to her. He knew how much she despised them.

He knew her better than that. 

Or at least she had though that he did. 

She couldn’t help the hurt that welled up inside her.

Ariel took a deep, shaky breath before opening the card. The card wasn't handwritten but printed. 

And there was a poem in there.

A poem. 

In all the years that she had known Max, poetry was not his forte. Actually there wasn’t many things that probably interested him less than poetry. 

The fact that the card wasn't handwritten only added to her frustration. She'd much rather have Max's messy cursive, full of his familiar little quirks, than this impersonal thing.

She began reading the poem, the words printed in stark black letters, stark against the white cardstock. She tried to find something, anything in the words that screamed 'Max'. But found nothing.

"Ariel?" His voice was suddenly behind her. "Why does our hotel room look like a flower shop?" She whirled around, meeting his gaze with a mixture of irritation and confusion.

"Did you buy these for me?" Ariel asked him, demanded from Max.

Max stared at her, blonde hair messy, blue eyes still clouded with sleep. 

“What?” he asked her, but then he saw the red roses and his face cleared immediately coming awake.

"No. Ariel, I would never." The clarity in his voice was a balm to the very heart of her. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe that he wouldn't do this to her.

But the roses were there. Right in front of them. They were undeniable proof.

"You wouldn't write me terrible poetry either, right?" she asked with a shaky voice.

"Schatje, you know me. I am not a guy for poetry," Max assured her, already reaching out for her and as he enveloped her in his arms.

He was warm and he was safe, and he smelled like Max. 

"Then who would do this?" Ariel choked out. 

"I don't know," Max admitted softly, as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.  "But I promise you, I didn't do this. I know how much you hate them." His voice was earnest as he said that. 

Ariel looked at him, searching his face for any sign of deceit. But there was nothing but honesty. The way his eyes held her gaze, the gentle firmness in his voice. It all convinced her.

She leaned into his embrace, her shoulders slumping. 

"Then who did?" she asked, her voice soft, almost resigned. Max held her closer, his arms around her. His expression was a mix of anger and concern.

He looked over at the flowers again, his jaw clenching slightly.

"I don't know," he admitted, his voice low. "But I will find out."

He gently moved his hands to frame her face, tilting her chin up so she was looking at him. "But right now, I'd rather focus on you. Are you okay?" he asked her. 

Ariel let herself lean into his touch. She took a moment to collect her thoughts. 

"I...yes," she finally mumbled. "I'm okay. Just..." She trailed off, looking at the roses once more. The sight of them still made her skin crawl.

She swallowed, her eyes burning with tears. "I hate them," Ariel said softly, her voice almost a whisper.

"I know," Max murmured, one broad hand gently rubbing over her back. He pulled her even closer, if that was even possible. 

"We'll get rid of them," Max promised, his voice a soft rumble against her ear. "We'll get rid of them, and we'll find out who sent them."

“They were her favourite you know,” she said weakly. “My mom’s,” Ariel clarified. “Dad said they matched her hair…so he bought them for her on their first date.”

Max ran a hand gently through her hair, caressing the soft strands. "Your mother must have had beautiful hair," he said softly, a small smile playing on his lips. "Just like you."

They had all inherited her mother’s bright ginger hair…all three of them. Percy, Ariel and Emma. 

Max pause for a moment, his eyes still on the roses, a frown forming on his brow."Schatje," he said softly, "We'll figure this out. We'll find out who sent these. And we'll make sure it never happens again."

“But who would pretend to be you to send me two dozen red roses? And a horrible poem,“ Ariel asked. This didn’t…

“Oh I have some ideas," Max said darkly. He reached out to take the card from her, snorting as he read the poem.

Ariel watched as Max read the card, her heart in her throat.

His reaction was not what she expected. He wasn't enraged or disgusted like she had been. He snorted in derision at the cheesy words on the card.

"This is definitely not me," he said, a hint of wry humour lighting up his eyes."Roses are red, violets are blue, I hate poetry, but I am into you?" he read aloud. “I mean it’s true, but I would hope I would come up with something better to say than that…”

Ariel couldn't help it. Despite everything, she let out a soft snort of laughter.

The poetry was so bad, so cringe-worthy, that it was almost funny.

"Seriously?" she said, her lips curling up in a reluctant smile. "Who could come up with something so...so..."

"Terrible?" Max supplied, his own lips twitching in amusement."I think I know the person that would be idiotic enough to do something like that. The same person that decided that having a whole betting pool on us was also absolutely alright," Max said drily. "Also there is a spelling mistakes in violets, so how high do you think are the chances that this was Lando?"

Ariel's eyes widened as the realisation set in.

Of course. It was so obvious.

"He's never going to get Christmas cookies ever again," she seethed. 

Lando. It had to be Lando.

He had been involved in the whole 'betting pool' fiasco. And now he had the gall to send her roses, and attempt a very bad, very cringey poem. 

He was getting more than just a 'stern talking to', she thought. He was getting an earful.

"No more cookies for Lando," she hissed, her anger beginning to build. 

Max chuckled as he watched her, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

"You think this is alright?" she snapped at him, staring at him.

"No," Max said drily. "To be honest, I am pretty pissed off about the fact that all of them thought that betting on our private life was a fun past time." 

He was right. The betting pool had been utterly disrespectful and intrusive.

"They had no right," she said quietly. "It's our lives, not some spectator sport." She looked at the flowers again, her annoyance returning momentarily. But then she shook her head and sighed.

"I can't believe Lando would do something like this," she muttered. "I mean, the guy is a menace on track, but off track he's usually just a big teddy bear."

"He definitely knows better," Max pointed out, a slight grimace on his face. "This crosses a line."

"Yeah," Ariel agreed, the anger slowly ebbing away again.

She glanced at Max, her expression a mix of frustration and resignation.

"I know it's just Lando being his usual chaotic self, but..." she paused, struggling to find the words. "But it still hurts. These flowers, this poem. I don't like to be...manipulated like that," she said weakly.

"I get it," Max said softly, pulling her into a comforting embrace. He held her close, his hand rubbing gentle circles on her back. "I promise, I'll have a word with Lando," he said, a note of steel in his voice. 

He would. She knew he would. 

She trusted Max to handle Lando.  

A part of her, though, wanted to give Lando a piece of her mind. But right now, in the safety of Max's arms, she felt exhausted.

She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. Her voice was quieter as she spoke.

"Don't go too hard on him," she murmured, a hint of reluctance in her voice. 

"Don't worry," he reassured her. "I won't go too hard on him. But he needs to understand that this is not okay. We are not some side show for his entertainment. Or for anybody’s else’s for that matter."

He let out a sigh and pulled her closer against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat calming her. "We're together because we want to be. Not because people think they can place bets on our relationship like it's a race."

"I know," she said quietly, her eyes slowly drifting shut as exhaustion started to take over.

She snuggled closer against him, her head coming to rest against his chest. The steady thump of his heart was soothing, the rhythm like a lullaby designed to soothe her frayed nerves."We should actually eat the breakfast I ordered," she muttered.

Max chuckled as Ariel's stomach made an impatient noise.

"Yeah," he said, a hint of amusement on his face. "I forgot we were supposed to eat breakfast and instead we're discussing the latest antics of Lando Norris."

He gave her a light squeeze before reluctantly letting her go."Why don't you sit down. I'll get our food?"

[diqldrunks]

snap out of it — max verstappen

requests are open! send me anything!! [nav | inbox]

a/n: if there's anything you'd like to see in this, send an ask!! please reblog if you enjoy <3

content: rivals to lovers, reader is in a crappy relationship, red bull!reader, there’s a little time skip!!

part one [18.12.24]

containing: a bitter boyfriend, scheming fans and twitter chaos

part two [tbc]

containing: [redacted], [redacted] and [redacted]

taglist; @see-me-wilding @forzacharlie16 @pastryfication @i-wanna-study @popsycles @cow-boy000 @iambored24601 @persephone-haven @eclipsedcherry @reidsworld @sepptember @formulaal

[bon2bonn]

Paper Hearts

Pt.2

MMA!Max Verstappen x female!reader

Words count : 2.7k .

Warnings : violence , dipshits starting problems, blood , insomnia , grammar, not proof read .

*you can find P1.here or visit my 🌿Secret Garden🪻

She willed her feet to run as fast as she could towards the building right down the street, panting as she finally reached the gate greeting the guard as she took off running once again to the front door, bursting through the door with a dramatic entrance getting the attention of the reception desk occupants, making her smile sheepishly at them while she apologised, heading straight to the desk to greet linn and Taylor who took the day shift that week , signing herself in and hastily making her way to the stairs leading to the second floor, waving off linn who scolded " no running! "

She knocked on the door and waited patiently , Louis Armstrong could be heard flowing from behind the door and when she found no answer she knew she's screwed , so she pushed the door slightly, enough to peek her head in , looking at the vast room and let out a breathe where her eyes landed on the back of the rocking chair facing the window .

Now, in normal circumstances she'd burst in and declared her arrival but since she already late might as well keep quiet for the sake of peace.

She headed to the table by the window and greeted cheerfully " what a nice morning we have today ! Would be great for a stroll in the garden , don't you think Mr Davis ? " . Taking out the welting flowers to replace them with the new ones she bought on her way , then turned to greet the man with a smile only to get glared at with a statement of " you're late " .

She sighed knowing her attempt failed miserably " I know, but come on , it's once in a lifetime, and I promise you it won't happen again " she pleaded but received a scoff " lies " , she gasped " Mr Davis! Are you accusing me of lying!? " He nod making her hold her heart as if in pain " you wound me! , how could you do such thing to me !. My poor fragile heart can't take it! " She kept weeping until he called over her dramatics " oh cut it out ! , you and your theatrics " then he huffed " you start with being late and the next thing you'll forget all about come here at all " he looked away in a mix of anger and hurt making her pause and straighten her back at his words , then she moved to the small foot rest and sat down, taking his hand gently and smiled softly when he looked away with a frown . " You know that you're stuck with little old me right? , it'll take more than a missing alarm to get rid of me " she tilted her head to give him a teasing smile " not to mention , who's gonna get you these books , sneak you that god's awful , terribly bitter coffee from your favourite dinner and run around to dig up your favourite vinyls ? ".

He waved his other hand indifferently " I could send James to do all of that " she made an offended sound with an actual frown " James !? You gotta be kidding me! . You're replacing me with big ears James!? , I'm offended ! At least pick someone else! " She slumped in agony " after all these years I'm being replaced with James, life is cruel indeed " she sneaked a glance at him and smiled internally when she found a smile make it's way to the corners of his mouth .

She stood and made her way to the door after picking her bag from the floor much to Mr Davis's confusion " where the hell are you going? " She wiped away an imaginary tear and declared " I'm running for the hills, and sending James to take my place ! " He rolled his eyes and waved his hand dismissively as he settled back on his comfortable chair " tell him to bring me coffee while you're at it " her face contoured into one of bewilderment before glaring at his back " Oh you! ... You know what ! . I'm staying just to spite you " he shrugged and hummed along with the music as she let go of her bag and started to rummage through it for a moment, picking out an old hard covered book and a notebook.

She went back to foot chair and sat while handling over the book " I had to bribe, blackmail and probably threaten a sixty years old lady to get it " she shuddered at the memory and glared before handing him the notebook , " and this is the juice " he gave her a unimpressed look " you and your words " , she challenged " what else do you want me to call it !? , cause trust me I got worse" making him give a pained look " you are an academic scholar ! At least act like it! " She shook her head proudly " nope , I rather act like myself, thank you very much " he gave a huff then put on his reading glasses that were hung around his neck while asking pointedly as he started with the notebook " and does acting like yourself includes staying awake up to ungodly hours? " .

She gave him a suspicious look " who snitched? " , He glared back over the pages " the bags under your eyes " making her groan as she rubbed her eyes " it was a once in a blue moon " he hummed flipping the page " that caused you to wound up late , for the ...... Remind me again how many times you've been late this week? " She threw her head back , almost falling on her back from the force and flailed her arms to grab anything to support her , crying out when she found none and groaned when her head made a thud . She got back to her seat while rubbing the back of her head " Which won't happen again " . He called her out without hesitation " more lies " and gave her a pointed stare when she looked up , both maintained a stare down until he looked back at the note in hand and pointed at the shelves filled with books covering the wall to the side " get volume 3 " he paused then added " and 8 too " making her stand to make a little dance on her way to retrieve the mentioned books . She asked over her shoulder " where's the binder? " receiving an answer " second door to the right " , " got it " she grabbed it and shut the door behind her swiftlly.

••••••••••✿••••••••••••

Max opened his locker's door and was about to shove his bag in but remembered the flower he pick earlier and gently reached to get it out , giving it a long look before deciding to leave it on the top shelve for now , getting his wrapping tape before shutting it and headed to start his warm up for the day .

Keeping his head focused as he made his way to his usual spot . Paying no mind to the looks he was receiving and the mumbles and proceeded with his work, pausing in between to take a break before resuming . And it went like that for the following hour until a distinctive loud voice called " oh ! Didn't know that our resident princess is back boys ! , could've told me , I would've got some flowers, or maybe a little sparkly crown" the three idiots surrounding him burst into laughter, clapping or nudging him on the shoulders as he nods . But his words didn't receive the desired effect as Max kept quiet as if he didn't hear anything .

He secured the tape over his knuckles after he took a big sip of water and resumed on the punching bag , sending kicks and punches that echoed through the open floor making the others look over at the sound , it was a form of warning to keep out of his way but that didn't last for long as the one with the shrill voice decided to take it a little too far , ignoring his friends and made his way over to lean on the bag with a smug face " I was talking to you princess " he then held the thudding bag with a grunt , he was pushed back when Max threw a kick at it but tried to play it off with a glare .

Max spared him a bored look before looking away uninterested " fuck off " , but that didn't play well with the guy who stepped in Max's face with a threatening voice " when I talk to you I expect you to answer" , then moved another step to shove Max back , but found himself thrown on his back on the floor as he looked in bewilderment at Max who shoved him with one arm and scoffed at him with a glare, he directed his glare at the other three who stepped to defend their fallen friend , and when they were about to step up a voice called out " what's going on here ?! " The voice boomed from the railing of the second floor where the manager stood with his arms crossed , glaring down on the two he gave a warning when the one on the floor attempted to take the chance to get back " don't even think about it Jacob " thee said man glared up , then back at Max who stepped back and turned to his work , leaving Jacob seething in his spot , slapping away the hand of his friend who tried to get him up and scoffed at Max's back " this isn't over yet " turning on his heels and leaving through the door .

Not five minutes later the manager made his way over, nodding at Max who paused his practice to see what he wanted , " appreciate you holding back there " Max nod " wasn't a problem , he isn't the first knob and won't be the last " the man acknowledged and turned to let him go on but stopped and called over his shoulder " just a word of advice , stay away from Jacob and his trolls , they're trouble , the sticky kind " Max nod absentmindedly and resumed with the managers words in the back of his mind . Louder thuds echoed as his punches got harder , each shook the bag and sent a loud rattle through the chains holding it up .

••••••••••• ♪ ••••••••••••

Her day dragged on till noon when she left with the notebook and the now well revised book , and a promise to return with more juice, much to Mr Davis's agony and her enjoyment of teasing him constantly and reached her next stop of the day right on time .

The centres metal gate stood tall and ever vibrant with colours , high walls adorned various graffiti pieces and abstract paintings from the kids , not to forget the contrasting flower beds along the high walls.

2 minutes of Waiting at the booth by the entrance for the security to checked her in , then headed to the main dining hall where almost everyone was already seated, she smiled sheepishly while grabbing a fruit cup and dashing to the table by the vending machine under the scolding gaze of Mrs Edith who glared when she saw her trying to discreetly sneak a bag of something to the table besides hers on the way, emitting a loud cheer from it's occupants at the contents before they quiet down with a sheepish smiles of their own when she looked over with narrowed eyes .

The group then nod amongst themselves before signalling to her to which she signalled back with a nod before finishing her snack and moved in a haste to the dorms , where she waited down the hallway for a minute before any of the kids showed up, looking around for any eavesdroppers then shut the door to their secret meeting behind them .

" When do we start ? " One of the boys 'luke' asked her after bringing over the board they were scheming on for the past week, 'lyle' chimed in with a frown " I've got a test on Monday and another one wednesday " she hummed and asked with her own notebook in hand " anyone got any upcoming tests by then ? " Four raised their hands " biology " Luke noted , " math on Tuesday and English Wednesday " Amy grumbled , followed by Adam to her left " biology " , the rest shook their heads and looked at her as she marked on her note nodding with confidence " we can make do with that . Study sessions are on time , we won't change that , the rest of us can work the gap you've got and we're almost finished anyway, so , we have nothing to worry about " . Danny pointed" except getting caught " , the group shared a dreaded look before she assured them " just go on with your days like usual and leave the rest to me , I'll distract Mrs Edith till next week and there shouldn't be any set backs ". There was a hurried knock on the window , a signal that someone was on its way over making everyone scramble to dispose of every evidence in their hands.

The board was discarded and the occupants of the room hurried to pick around anything giving away their plans , succeeding just in time when the door cracked open and Mrs Edith stood with her hands on her hips , eyebrows raised with a suspicious look on her face as she scanned the group smiling innocently at her .

••••••••••✿••••••••••••

Max heaved a sigh when he reached the gyms front door when evening came , bag across his shoulder and a bottle in hand , but not even halfway across the parking lot someone decided to block his way with a truck painted an awfully bright shade of neon red , and low and behold out came Jacob with two of his lankies asking for trouble, Jacob stood before Max with a scowl " you thought you could just walk away ? " , Max rolled his eyes and turned to leave but Jacob made the mistake of grabbing the back of his hoodie, receiving a fist to the face , emitting a crushing sound when it collided with his nose , blood seeping as he fell down clutching his now definitely broken nose , the remaining two lunged forward, trying to overpower Max but he reacted faster , one foot kicking one back and a punch to the other slamming him against the window of parked car , his friend recovered and marched again, this time with a blade raised to swing at Max's side , who asked with a raised eyebrow " really? " Then sidestepped and grabbed the assailant's arm , twisting it till a 'pop' was heard followed by a shout of pain from it's owner as he fell after he dropped the blade with his free hand clutching his shoulder in agony .

Jacob watched with boiling anger before he hurried to grab a crowbar from the back of the truck, trying to find an opening to swing at Max , he swung at his back in a sloppy hit , making Max stumble in a step before he planted his feet , arms ready when he saw the bastard's leg going back to deliver a kick at him , so he grabbed the leg with one arm and a fistful of Jacobs shirt in the other and slammed him on his back .

Sirens were Heard rapidly with it's blaring lights seen from the distance as Max stood over the three men , he turned to look at the approaching officers but his eyes fell on his bag discarded on the ground, the zipper was undone and the flower he picked up earlier peaking out , it saddened him to see it's petals damaged even more when one of the officers stomped on it on his haste to reach the scene .