#mv1 mafia

[formulas-bitch]

Meant to be - mob boss Max x sainz/reader

The room was dimly lit, with the flickering light casting eerie shadows across the walls. The scent of burning candles and expensive cologne filled the air, mixing into a haunting aroma that seemed to hang like a veil between the mob boss and his guest. The two men sat across from each other at a massive, polished walnut table, their expressions carefully neutral as they waited for the other to make the first move. This was a meeting that could potentially change the course of both of their lives, and they knew it.

As the tension in the room grew, Max leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table, and spoke in a low, steady voice. "So, Carlos, you understand why I've asked you here tonight." It wasn't a question, but he offered it up anyway, his piercing blue eyes boring into Carlos's brown ones. Carlos nodded slowly, trying to maintain his composure. "Yes, Max. I understand. You want to marry my sister."

"And you're not opposed to that?" Max pressed, his expression unreadable. Carlos took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. "No, Max. I'm not opposed to it. But I want you to know that I will protect her with my life. If you hurt her in any way, if you make her unhappy, I will find you, and I will make you pay." His voice was low and steady, but there was an undercurrent of menace that could not be ignored.

The mob boss nodded slowly, his gaze unwavering. "I understand, Carlos. Your sister is very important to you. She's important to me too. I want to make her happy, to give her a life filled with love and luxury. A life she deserves." Max leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers beneath his chin. "But I also need to know that you trust me. That you believe I can provide that life for her. and it will bring our two families together"

Carlos studied the mob boss's face for a moment, searching for any hint of deceit. But there was none to be found. Max's expression was open, honest, and filled with a genuine desire to make his future wife happy. Slowly, Carlos nodded. "I do trust you, Max. And I believe that you can give her that life. A life filled with love and protection, just like our parents did." He paused, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "And who knows? Maybe our two families will find a way to be together, not just through marriage, but as friends too."

There was a brief moment of silence as the two men contemplated the weight of their words. Then, Max reached out, clasping Carlos's hand in a firm grip. "Thank you, Carlos. I appreciate your trust, and I won't let you down. I promise to make your sister the happiest woman in the world."

The tension began to ease, replaced by a sense of camaraderie and understanding. They spoke for several more hours, discussing their families, their hopes for the future, and the challenges that lay ahead. The candlelight flickered softly, casting dancing shadows across their faces as they shared stories and laughter.

As the night wore on, Max excused himself to make a phone call. When he returned, he was carrying a small, velvet box. He placed it on the table in front of Carlos, and a look of pride and anticipation spread across his face. "Carlos, I wanted to give your sister something special. Something that symbolized not only our commitment to each other, but also to the future that we're building together."

Carlos opened the box, revealing a stunning diamond ring. It was exquisitely crafted, sparkling in the dim light, and Carlos couldn't help but gasp in awe. "It's beautiful, Max. She's going to love it." He held the ring up, admiring the craftsmanship before slipping it onto his own finger. The two men shared a brief moment of silence, each lost in their own thoughts about the significance of the ring and the promises it represented.

As the evening drew to a close, Max stood up, offering his hand to Carlos. "Thank you, my friend. I appreciate your understanding and support. Together, I truly believe we can build a future that our families will be proud of." Carlos took Max's hand, their grip firm and confident. "I'm honored to stand by your side, Max. And I promise to do everything in my power to make sure our families prosper and grow."

The two men exchanged a final, knowing glance before they parted ways. Max walked out into the cool night air, his shoulders back and his chest puffed out with pride. He knew that the meeting with Carlos had gone better than he could have hoped for. Now, all he had to do was wait for the right moment to propose to Gabriela .

In the meantime, he would continue to focus on his work, ensuring that the criminal empire he had built continued to thrive. He had a team of trusted advisors and lieutenants who helped him run things day-to-day, but he remained the undisputed leader, the one they all looked to for guidance and direction. His word was law, and he took his responsibilities seriously.

Max's thoughts often drifted to Gabriela, wondering what she was doing, if she was happy, and if she had given any more thought to their future together. He couldn't help but feel a sense of possessiveness whenever he thought about her, knowing that he wanted her all to himself. He knew that their marriage would be a complicated one, with their families' pasts hanging over them like a cloud, but he was determined to make it work. He wanted them to have the life that they deserved, filled with love and luxury, and he was willing to do whatever it took to make that happen.

In the midst of his planning and preparation, Max received word that one of their rival gangs was making a move on their territory. He knew he had to handle the situation delicately, as any misstep could lead to all-out war. He called a meeting with his most trusted lieutenants, a group of men who had been with him since the beginning. They discussed strategy and tactics, debating the best course of action. Max listened intently, taking each of their opinions into consideration before making his final decision.

As they planned their counterattack, Max couldn't help but think about Gabriela. He longed to share this news with her, to see the look of admiration in her eyes as he discussed his leadership and strategic thinking. He imagined her telling him how proud she was to stand by his side, how much she loved him and believed in him. The thought of marrying her and starting a family together filled him with a sense of purpose and joy that he had never experienced before.

The meeting concluded with a plan of action, and Max left feeling confident that they would emerge victorious. He couldn't wait to share the news with Gabriela and ask for her support and counsel. He knew that together, they would make a formidable team, able to navigate the treacherous waters of the criminal underworld and build a life of love, luxury, and security for themselves and their families.

As he drove home late at night, Max's thoughts once again drifted to the engagement ring and the moment he would propose to Gabriela. He knew that he wanted to do it in a way that was both romantic and memorable, something that would show her just how deeply he felt for her. He considered taking her on a private jet to a secluded island, where he would have a team of chefs prepare a gourmet meal and a string quartet play their favorite songs. But as he pulled into his driveway, he decided against it. He wanted something more intimate, something that felt special just for the two of them.

The next morning, Max woke up early, anxious to see Gabriela. He had arranged for a private chef to prepare breakfast in bed for the two of them, complete with freshly squeezed orange juice and his favorite croissants. As he waited for her to emerge from the bedroom, he couldn't help but feel a surge of adrenaline, his heart racing with anticipation. When she finally appeared, wearing one of his favorite dresses that showed off her curves, he knew that this was the moment.

With a deep breath, Max got down on one knee and pulled out the engagement ring from his pocket. He looked up at her, his eyes filled with love and devotion, and asked her the question that had been burning in his heart for months. "Gabriela, from the moment I first saw you, I knew that you were someone special. You're beautiful, smart, and strong. You've been by my side through everything, and I want to spend the rest of my life showing you just how much I love and appreciate you. Will you marry me?"

Tears welled up in Gabriela's eyes as she looked down at Max, her heart racing with emotion. She felt an overwhelming sense of happiness and love wash over her as she gazed into his sincere eyes. "Max," she whispered, "of course I'll marry you." She reached out and took his hand, gently sliding the ring onto her finger. The sparkle of the diamond in the morning light was a testament to the bright future that lay ahead of them.

They stayed like that for a moment, holding hands and soaking in the happiness that filled the room. Max couldn't help but feel grateful for this woman who had come into his life and given him a reason to believe in love again. He leaned in and kissed her tenderly, his heart swelling with love and devotion. As they continued to embrace, Max felt a pang of guilt as he thought about the rival gang and the challenges that lay ahead. But for now, he wanted nothing more than to lose himself in Gabriela's arms and forget about everything else.

Gabriela smiled up at him, her green eyes sparkling with love. "I've been thinking," she said, her voice soft and sultry. "I've always dreamed of having a wedding that was as extravagant as your lifestyle. What do you say? We could have it at one of your private estates, with a guest list that rivals the Forbes list. We could hire the best chefs, designers, musicians… anything you desire. It would be our dream wedding, just like you deserve."

Max's heart skipped a beat at the thought of sharing such a moment with her. "That sounds perfect," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life making you happy, and showing you just how much you mean to me."

As they lay there together, lost in their own little world, Max couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over him. He knew that with Gabriela by his side, they could overcome any obstacle, and that together, they would continue to build their empire and live a life of luxury and love.

[norrisleclercf1]

How about some mafia max heartbreak

One of the uncles gets hurt in their house and the babies see🥺 maybe Cassie finding uncle Charles or fabby finding lando unconscious and freaking out

A/N: Oh these poor babies, I hate to put them through heart break but...alright I couldn't put baby Fabby through that so light angst.

He knew he was supposed to be asleep; Momma had put him to bed hours ago but instead of sleeping he's been up reading the books that Uncle Lala got him. Fabby knew it wasn't smart, Daddy or Momma could catch him, but he really loved his new books.

Fabby jumps, hearing a crash and people cursing but then it grows silent, he gently clicks off his flashlight, hoping that Momma or Daddy don't come in the room. But just like his father, his curiosity gets the better of him as he tiptoes out of his room, making sure not to wake up Cassie.

Holding his little dino stuffie he carefully walks down the stairs, knowing that at 4 he should be careful, and careful he is, like the good boy Daddy always calls him. He stops when he hears the familiar voice of his father, and he hugs his dino stuffie tight.

Looking around the corner Fabby freezes seeing Uncle Lala laying on the floor with people rushing around him. "Lala!" Max whips around fast, horror and dread dropping in his stomach seeing his little baby boy there in his pjs and holding his stuffie.

"Fabby," He whispers and moves quickly picking up Fabian and holding him close. "Lala," He cries starting to get panicky wanting his Uncle Lando to wake up. "Daddy, Lala, why not he....wake up," Fabby starts to sniff and Max moves them into the kitchen making sure he couldn't hear or see anything.

"Lala has to take a nap right now, he's really tired so he has to nap, like you should be doing," Max explains softly, not wanting to freak out his son. "Daddy, take nappy with Lala?" He moves to get down but Max holds him still, so he doesn't jump off and go to Lando. "No, baby, come on you can sleep with me," Fabby shakes his head no, his eyes getting wide and glossy.

"Wan Lala," Fabby whimpers and Max sighs, dropping his head as he knew Fabian wouldn't give up easy. "Max?" The kitchen light flicks on as you freeze seeing Fabby up and Max's blood spattered shirt. "Max, go change, now." You say softly, but also quiet sternly that has him looking down and going pale.

"Oh, oh god, Y/n, baby, I didn't know," He whispers, and moves quickly going up the stairs as you walk and cage Fabian in. "Fabby, little kitten, what are you doing up?" You ask softly, pushing back his little blonde hair. "Lala," He points with his little hand and you look behind you.

"Stay here," You say and move into the living room and notices the doctors are done with Lando. "Is he...awake?" You whisper kneeling as you press his hair back sighing. You knew how much Fabby loved Lando, it was the same with Cassian and Charles, thick as thieves. "Yeah, little groggy," Doc nods and Lando chuckles softly, "4 bullets, ironic," And you smile, knowing 4 was Lando's lucky number.

"Oscar and Carlos are going to be pissed," Lando groans and rolls his eyes. "Whatever," "Well, Mr. Lucky, you've got mini you worried," Lando tries to sit up but Doc gently shoves him down. "Uhu," He shakes his head but Lando fights him.

"I'll go get him," You reassure and Lando nods as Max comes jogging down the stairs, "Hey man," And moves quickly to his side. "Took some bullets for you, and all you say is "hey man"" Lando grumbles but stops as Fabby comes running in holding his dino. "Lala," Lando smiles and moves using his good arm to lift him up. "Hey dino man," Fabby giggles and lays down. "Read?" He asks and Max chuckles.

"Fabby, Lala will read to you later, get some sleep," He whispers and leans down kissing Fabby head who giggles. "Do I get a kiss too?" Lando giggles and Max smacks him lightly on the head. "Yes," You lean down and kiss his cheek. "Thank you for bringing my husband home," You whisper, Max wrapping his arm around your waist.

"Thank you," Max whispers turning off the light as Lando makes up a story to Fabby, the sounds of little giggles leave you and Max as you walk upstairs.

[bunny-jpeg]

Hiiiiii can I please order French toast with vodka and martini with maxxxxxxxx

Thank you I am living for your writing!!!!!

bakery menu

want to order? look at the menu! we're always serving up smiles at the bunny bakery! we have a full-time staff (me) who makes sure your desserts are made with love and the drinks are poured to perfection!

french toast ("you're trying to make me jealous!") + vodka (rough sex) + martini (mafia au) served by max verstappen (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, mafia au, mafia boss!max, references to violence, mean dom!max, smoking, non penetrative sex, sex toys & bondage

max knew how to throw a punch, it was one of the first things he felt like he learned in life. now, as the boss, he didn't punch as much as he thought he would've as a child. but when that lackey threw his arm around your shoulders and crowded your space. max wanted that guy's teeth stuck in his frontal lobe.

and you were just playing right into it. laughing at his jokes as he got closer, but you put your hand on his chest and gave a smile. you said something to him that max couldn't pick up due to the music in the club.

not that what you were saying even mattered, max wanted him dead. if he kissed you, max couldn't be responsible for what he would do. he briefly wondered how many teeth he could break with a single punch. he hissed through a tense jaw before he finished his gin and tonic and headed towards you.

the lackey, max couldn't even remember his name, looked up at max and smiled, "hey, boss." and gave the man a wave.

you looked away briefly as you sipped your vodka and cranberry.

max crossed his arms, he got the message loud and clear. the new guy didn't know who you were. or rather your relation to the family. he noticed that the engagement ring you wore was off your finger. oh, you were trying to cause a seen.

you little slut.

he looked at you and tilted his head, "i didn't know you were so comfortable with all ranks of the family, mrs. verstappen."

the lackey's eyes went wide as it all clicked together. he quickly pulled away from you and looked beyond shocked. he looked like he was going to piss himself. he stammered out, "i'm so sorry, boss. mister verstappen, boss, sir!"

max sighed and put his hands into the pockets of his slacks. the sleeves of his crisp button-up were rolled up, showing the strength of his arms. he said, "it's fine. i'll let this go, this time. as for you." he turned his attention to you. he snapped his fingers and pointed behind himself and the lackey was on his feet and out of sight.

you carefully took a sip of your drink, "what?" a defiant little thing. that was what max liked about you. he didn't want a submissive puppy for a fiancee. but it was however a double-edged sword.

he took the glass out of your hand and put it down on the glass table. he grabbed you by the wrist and showed you your hand, the absence of a ring was glaringly obvious.

"i didn't want to get it dirty."

"you're trying to make me jealous, mijn kleine slet." he said as he pulled you to your feet, "you can't be playing these games when we get married, acting out like a brat." his voice was tense and made your entire body feel flushed, "now let's get in the car and talk this out, like a couple."

max was once told that cigarettes tasted better if they were lit with a match instead of a lighter. the word "fresh" for a flame was thrown around, regardless max had to agree, cigarettes tasted better when lit with a match.

he was in his office chair, in the home you shared. he was leaned back in it with the unlit cigarette in his mouth. he took the box of matches off the solid wood desk and struck a light. he lit the cigarette before he shook the match dead. it and the box were put back on the table before he turned back to the exquisite, whorish woman he called a fiancee.

he leaned forward in his seat. took you a good while to get you tied up like that. the kind they had to use for the hogs. legs up and arms behind back. right in the center of your back was max's expensive crystal ashtray.

"break it." he said, "i'll throw you to the dogs." but you were barely listening and he knew it. after all when he got you onto the carpeted floor and bound, he slipped an impressive vibrator into your aching cunt. it was controlled by a remote which max had in his pants pocket. he took another inhale of the cigarette and looked at you.

those blue eyes were painfully pointed. he was predator that could see all, and you were the prey he got into a lovely trap. in all fairness, he was impressed that you could make him lose his cool like that.

he believed he had been conditioned so much that he wouldn't break a sweat when emotions for rocky. but you were under his skin like a splinter that he couldn't get out.

he didn't expect less from his future wife.

"you know what you did makes you a whore right? like the kind that walks around the red light district. you know, if you like the attention so much, i could get you a nice window right in the center of the area. make a hefty price." he nudged your shoulder with the front of his sleek shoes, "mafia boss' fiancee's fall from grace."

you kept your gaze on him, not like you could say anything. currently his tie was bound around your mouth. you weren't meant to talk, you were meant to stay there and listen.

with the cigarette in his mouth he said, "i would rather not have that. a boss' wife is supposed to have... grace, she isn't supposed to be letting underlings practically grope her." he exhaled, leaning forward to get it almost in your face, "would you consider yourself graceful, schat?"

you nodded your head. you felt the electricity in your body. you tensed up when he put his hand in his pocket and lowered the vibration setting. only to raise it again soon after. that was the trick with remote controlled toys, to keep the pace uneven and make whoever wearing it beg for more.

but you wouldn't be doing much begging tonight.

he nudged you against with his shoe and said, "don't lie to me." before he took another drag. the sight of him, a little warm and slightly disheveled. the cigarette hung loosely in his fingers. he was a dangerous man, he could easily have you killed.

but he'd never do that, he'd rather skin himself alive than have his beloved be dead. even if you were a brat, he still was going to make the oath to be with you for the rest of your days.

the pleasure from the toy was becoming overwhelming, you could almost feel the vibrations in the back of your head. you laid there tied up, and when max was done the cigarette, he leaned over and put it out in the ashtray you were keeping balanced on you.

he leaned back in his chair and looked at you. he said, "you look better like this. maybe next time i should give you a collar since you like to act like a bitch in heat." he propped his head against his fist as he leaned against the arm of the office chair.

you were a quivering mess, his harsh words shot to your core. he played with the controls once more and you were gasping around the tie in your mouth. the expensive material was getting ruined by your spit as you squirmed.

max thought he was being generous when he took the ashtray off your back and onto the desk. he knew you were going to come apart at the scenes at any moment.

he didn't want you to break something that cost more than your entire university tuition. he could see the tremble in your body, you were such a glutton for punishment.

you tried to speak around the tie in your mouth, but felt a curl in pressure in your gut. you had nothing to hold onto while the toy buzzed in your aching cunt. your toes curled as he watched you with careful eyes.

he was a bad man. there was a glint in his blue eyes as he watched you struggle. he wasn't even fucking you, but yet he had you on your knees. he had you whimpering with cloth in your mouth.

"pretty thing." he said softly, "see, i like you like this. not making me jealous." he reached over and patted your head softly. in such a juxtaposition to the pace of the toy.

he knew he wasn't exactly lying, he didn't want a submissive wife all the time nor, did he want a wife who was trying to make him jealous all the time.

you let out a whine as you arched your back and climaxed around the toy. your body tensed up, and a slight ache was in your muscles. you felt your heart pound in your chest as you came.

you went lax and pulled at the ropes that bound you. you pressed your forehead against the carpeted floor as you tried to settle down. you gasped when the vibrator was turned off. your breathing was in heavy pants as you relaxed.

max tapped the apple of your cheek when you looked at him once more. he said, "so perfect for me."

you tensed up when the knife came out from the desk drawer. max crouched next to you and got the knife through your binds. he also too his tie out of your mouth. he bundled you up in his arms on the carpeted floor of his office.

the weight of the toy inside of you made your stomach twist and when he slowly pulled it out of you. you thought you were going to cum again, especially when his thumb grazed up against your clit. he held you in his arms on the floor.

"are we done with these little games?" he asked.

you remained curled in his arms and let him rubbed your forehead gently, you said, "for now."

he chuckled, "of course, but be careful, schat. you may be my wife, but you are still human. with blood and all, and there would be many who would like to see that blood spilled."

you looked up at him and he kissed you on the lips. when he pulled away you smiled. you could feel your fiance's cock against your lower back. these silly little games you played, but max wouldn't have it any other way.

his beautiful future wife. <3

[miirohs]

nightingale [m.v.s]

pairing: Mob Boss!Max Verstappen x Nurse!Reader wc: 1.7k cw: indications of ppd (not explicit but you'd have to read the lines for it), max is not the most mentally stable, abuse mentioned (not in detail) an: elle is 100% made up and if yall want more family content hmu i can do it 😝 also, the nightingale oath isn’t universally used, but essentially it’s almost the same thing as the Hippocratic oath doctors take :)

“She won’t stop crying!” Max snapped, frustratedly clutching the rails of the crib as the baby in it cried relentlessly, giving you a crazed look from the corner of his eye as you got closer. It was like dealing with a wounded animal that refused your help.

“Breath Max. Breath.” From the moment you had arrived at the Verstappen home, it had been walking on eggshells, anger fueling his every waking move from as far as three weeks as he prowled around the house.

“Godverdomme (goddamnit) Y/n, I know that! Why is she crying though?!”

You reached out a hand, stroking his back gently. You ought to be as angry as him for having you snatched off the streets but you couldn’t, not with the reveal of his child. You had the barest idea of what he might have been going through.

“I don’t know, I'm not… yeah.” The look in his eyes turned sharp and you closed your mouth, staring down at your hands.

“I’m leaving, I can’t do this right now. Don’t come after me or else.” He threatened, the anger on his face fading into a stoic look as he turned away from the child, one look you feared more than his explosive anger.

It wasn’t until he left the room, gun drawn in hand, that you could breathe again, nearly collapsing to the floor.

You turned around, weakly holding the rails. You could hear him barking at the guards from inside the room, fading into the distance as your anticipation slowly died down. You thought that maybe today, you were good as dead.

The baby’s fussing had died down long before you had finally noticed. You hesitated when looking at her, reaching in to pick her up gently.

“Hi Elle.”

All the baby did was look at you blankly, eyes still wet from the countless tears that’d been shed before Max left. She had his gorgeous blue eyes, but most likely her mothers soft face.

You knew he was a dangerous man, and now you supposed the baby knew as well, seeing the way she’d been crying before Max had finally left the room. It wasn’t an isolated incident as well, building up across many miniature incidents.

The most shocking part, though, was the fact you’d been told the biggest kingpin in the Netherlands had a child. You would’ve laughed in the face of the person telling you before, but now it felt realer than it had been for the last couple weeks.

You gently cradled the baby in your arm, rocking her lightly as you looked out the door ajar to the hall. You could hear the guard grumbling in discontent as they went about their business, yet none of the commotion had bothered Elle. 

She had finally fallen asleep in your arms, gripping onto your finger as you put her down, a strong sense of familiarity washing over you. 

You spent a good part of your time caring for children, as this was no different to you.

Letting go of the crib, you steeled your nerves to walk out the room, arms crossed in front of your protectively as you eyed the men in the hall.

One of the guards, Daniel, held you back gently by the shoulder, looking at you with curious eyes. This was probably one of the more rare times seeing you, it was like you’d never left the nursery from the moment you got here.

“You can’t-”

“He kidnapped me from my own home Daniel. I don’t think he has a right to keep me from going wherever I want in his house.” You snapped, surprised at how hoarse your voice seemed.

He didn’t fight you, simply nodding and slinking back to his spot because there wasn’t much he could do to convince you to stay. 

You could easily recall your steps to the kitchen, the heat in your feet dispelled by the cold tiles as you entered.

You didn’t know how long you were there, standing blankly at the sink as the water continued to fill up in the glass.

The glass was overfilling and you watched it, hands clenched into fists before you released them entirely, weight rolling off your shoulders.

The sound of a door slamming snapped you out of your stupor, turning off the sink and staring into the dimly illuminated living room.

Max came through the door, blood staining his shirt and face, dirt smudge across his nose and cheeks. He noticed you, a look of disparagement in his eyes as he got closer. Looking into his eyes, it really reminded you of Elle.

He ignored you as he limped into the kitchen, opening a cabinet with more gentleness than you’d seen in days.

“I thought I told you not to leave her alone?” He said, voice scratchy and low as if he’d been screaming. 

“She’s finally asleep.”

You responded. He didn’t bother to critize you again, popping open the bottle of whisky and pouring it into a glass. 

He limped back to the living room, settling into an armchair with his back to the cityline. He looked almost formidable as the harsh shadows cast lines on his face.

“You sure have a way of showing you care, Max.”

“I know you aren’t criticizing me now, schat.” He laughed humorlessly, sending shivers down your spine.

“Oh yeah, because kidnapping someone to take care of your child really says you love them.” You snarked, eyes trailing to his sides. 

There were minor tears when you hadn’t seen his shirt before he left, heart beating loudly as you got a glimpse of his bloodied side as he pushed himself up.

“What happened to you?”

“What do you think happened?” He said, rolling his eyes as he lowered the glass from his lips.

“Well, this isn’t healthy. For you or Elle.” You said wearily, finger tracing the rim of the glass. “Have you ever considered therapy? It might-“

“No.” 

You blinked, surprised by his sudden refusal. “Why not?”

“I can’t. Do you know the kind of risk that poses?” He grumbled, clearly offended at you for suggesting so.

“Okay then, sure would’ve been better if you’d kidnapped a therapist rather than an underpaid nurse to do that job for you. Secrecy and all.” 

“That’s how you want to play then? I’ll give you the money, then leave this place and never come back, if you’re that desperate.” He gritted through clenched teeth, temper clearly being dialed up by the reminder.

“What? Absolutely not.” It was your turn to reject his offer, staring at him blankly. You didn’t know why that made you feel so upset.

“I’m offering you money and allowing you to leave, what more could you want, schat?” He scoffed, sharply putting down the whiskey glass as he held his head in the other hand.

“I can't just leave her like that, you know that as well as I do.” He remained silent, which you took as permission to get closer to him.

He didn’t protest as you leaned over, yet flinched slightly as you pulled his shirt up.

“Calm down, if I had any intention of hurting you, you’d know.” You rolled your eyes, turning up the light a little more so you could see the full extent of his wounds.

“I don’t think it’s necessary-“ 

You cut him off with a sharp inhale. The other miniature wounds stared back at you, barely cuts compared to the jagged scar that ran down his side. “When did this happen?” You whispered.

He slammed his glass down again and you flinched back, split seconds before you could look him in the eyes again. They were slightly sorrowful, but otherwise empty, where there had been every negative emotion a human could muster moments before.

“It was my dad.”

“Did he…” You didn’t finish the sentence, swallowing your doubts as you stared at it.

“Yes. It was in a fight. He won, obviously.” He answered, short and clipped as his posture dropped slightly. 

“Is this why you don’t want Elle? Because you don’t want her to go through-” You asked meekly, cut off almost instantly. “The old man is dead. I killed him myself, made sure he couldn’t lay a single hand on anyone else.” Max hissed, a few beats passing in between the both of you.

“Do you know anything about her mother maybe? I could probably pull together something if-”

“She’s dead.” 

You blinked, mouth gaping slightly.

“She was a prostitute. Most likely gone from all the drugs up her system by now. That’s why I needed you. Our old doctor… left his position early.” 

You watched him get up from his spot, clearly done with the conversation, but something about what he said seemed to strike a chord in you.

“So you brought me to make sure-“

“The baby wasn’t affected. You weren’t a doctor but you did just fine I suppose.” He finished, back to you and he poured himself another one.

“Max, do you know what a Nightingale oath is?”

“Een nacht wat (a night what)?” You continued on, though you had a feeling you knew what he said.

“It’s an oath some of us take. To protect and to serve.”

You got up, feet pattering against the ground as you got closer to him.

“I don’t think anyone really abides by it anymore-“ He let out a short laugh, clearly unbelieving of your words as you continued, “-but maybe, just maybe, that’s why I haven’t gone home just yet.”

“Are you sure you want this Y/n? When you could just as easily leave and go home now?” He muttered softly, hunched over the countertop as your hand met his back.

“I’m sure. You need the help Max. You can’t deny it.”

“Then so be it nachtegaal. I can’t stop you when you’ve made up your mind.” He murmured, steely blue eyes meeting your own as he held your gaze.

“Maybe, once you’re well enough, you can finally form some connection to the child.” You sighed, looking at him. “I promise it.”

“You’re very confident in this plan of yours.”

You smiled inwardly at his words. “Why else would I be here if I wasn’t?”

[vivwritesfics]

Bleeding From The Storm

Chapter One - Death

After the death of his son, the head of the Dupont family wants his daughter protected. He moved her to Monaco, the safe zone, and has her protected by Charles Leclerc. Max Verstappen was never supposed to meet her. He didn't even know who she was. But he knew she was beautiful, and he knew he wanted to know more, much to the horror of Charles Leclerc.

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10 Years Ago:

When you're a part of a crime family, death is all one usually thinks about. Every time they're sent out on a job, the members of these crime families think about the ways in which the job could kill them. Even when they're not working, they're thinking about all the ways they might die and what their family would be left with.

They expect to be kidnapped and killed, beaten to death, shot and stabbed by a member of a rival family.

Never murdered on neutral grounds.

He was in the safe zone. You're not supposed to die in the safe zone. He wasn't even doing any work, living on his father's yacht in a spell of twenty-four year old rebellion.

His sister had been in contact with him will be at been on the yacht in Monaco. When she one day stopped getting messages back from him, she knew that something was wrong.

His dead body was only discovered because of her. Because she ran to Charles, who wasn't that much older than her, and begged him to help her search through the yacht.

Charles had been the one to find the body. He'd held her back, stopping her from running in and seeing the bloodied mess on the bed. He was barely recognisable, the only indicator of who he was being the Dupont family ring on his finger.

They couldn't call the police, not or something like this. Charles had her return home to France while he and his brother recovered the body. That was the harsh reality of their lives.

The funeral was held at the Dupont family manor. The heads of family gathered around as the casket was lowered.

It was a rare moment of peace between then. The silence as his casket was covered with dirt. From the edge of the property, she was there, crying and screaming until her lungs ached.

They weren't meant to be there. The funeral was for the heads of families and a few right hand men. But Charles and Lorenzo, his older brother, stood with her as she sobbed. If the heads of families head, they didn't give any indication.

When the heads of families went into the house to conduct their meeting, the three of them crept closer. Her cried had quietened as they pressed themselves against the bricks, ducking beneath the window of the meeting room.

"This is no coincidence!" Bellowed Dupont as he looked at the rest of the heads. His right hand man, Leclerc, stood beside him, noting all of the reactions around the room.

"How dare you throw these accusations at us!" Webber shouted back. "How dare you insinuate that one of us violated the rules of the safe zone to murder your son!"

"The suggestion that my son was murdered by somebody who doesn't want to send a message to me and my family is preposterous!"

And suddenly they were all shouting over each other, making it impossible for the three below the windows to listen in. Lorenzo pressed his fingers to his lips as he stoop up slightly and peered into the window.

The calmest one was Hamilton. He was the youngest, didn't yet have any people behind him. But he was growing, and at a rapid rate. He stood and placed his hand flat on the table, silencing everybody around the room. "Dupont, what happened to your son is a tragedy, one that will not soon be forgotten. It was a crime committed by a sick individual. But it wasn't a member of any family. The way they killed him, that isn't how we do things. Our men are taught to kill quietly, efficiently. To leave no mess."

There was nothing but mess in the way that he was killed.

He was right. Every head of family knew he was right. Even if it was a tough pill for Dupont to swallow.

"But," Hamilton continued, "I am open for my operations to be investigated. As is everyone in this room." He looked from side to side. "Unless there is something anybody wants to share."

Silence fell across the room.

Suddenly, Dupont's right hand man stepped forward. "The proposal from here is to review the laws we have around the safe zone. It has always been free of weapons, but we will tighten security, have multiple check points set up."

Dupont looked towards Leclerc and then addressed the rest of the room. "Leclerc grew up in Monaco. It is where he is raising his family. To me, it makes the most sense that he heads up this operation."

The rest of the heads of family agreed. The conversation continued calmly, with the rest of the meeting headed up by Hamilton. From his place between Rosberg and Webber, Verstappen stayed quiet. But that wasn't unusual for a man this cold and calculating.

Just two days after the funeral, Dupont moved his wife and daughter to Monaco. The Dupont Manor was emptied, used only for business. Nobody knew that Dupont had moved his family, nobody but the Leclercs.

As soon as he turned eighteen, Charles Leclerc was welcomed into the Dupont family. He was insanely proud to be working alongside his father and brother, even if his job was a little different.

Where Hervé was Dupont's right hand man, effectively running the family with him, and Lorenzo did 'enforcement' for the family, Charles had a different job. Charles was assigned to guard her. She was fifteen, turning sixteen, and full of teenaged... feelings. She wasn't rebellious, not after what happened to her brother.

But she wanted to go out, wanted to make friends and have fun. Charles could let her do that. He couldn't let her put herself in danger like that.

When Charles was nineteen, about to turn twenty, he lost his father. He had been at her place, listening to her ramble about getting a job. Because, maybe if she she had a dog, Charles would let her go and have fun.

She told Charles what dog she wanted. A sweet doberman or a scary rottweiler with a silly name. One she could walk with a spiked collar and a black leather leash.

"That way, you don't have to keep being my guard dog," she had said as she sat on the sofa, her feet on his lap.

Charles had rolled his eyes at her. "You say that like I don't like guarding you, Lapinette."

He'd gotten the call after that, interrupting their conversation. The phone had fallen out of Charles's hands, but he didn’t react much beyond that.

He'd been prepared for this, just like every child who grew up in a family (well, everyone but her, but Bunny). But it was still a shock, still stung.

"Cha," she said as she sat up. "What's the matter?"

He swallowed the lump in his throat. "Nothing, Bunny." His eyes stung but he held back the tears. "Uh, I'm gonna send Arthur to come here. Lock the door after me and don't let anybody in until he knocks."

Fear suddenly filled her. But Charles brushed her hair behind her ears and kissed her forehead. "I promise, everything is fine."

She always did what Charles said. They had pretty much become roommates, him living in her apartment, the one her dad bought for her the moment she turned eighteen.

But being eighteen brought out her first moment of rebellion.

The first time she snuck out, Charles caught her. The second time she snuck out, Charles caught her.

But, with each time that he caught her, she got better. She got better and better. She got so good that Charles had to chase her down the street when he found the apartment empty.

She got good enough to not get caught. She learnt Charles's patterns well enough to sneak out like an expect. Well, if you could be an expert at something like that.

At twenty-four, she decided that her favourite place to go when she snuck out. The café that served all the different teas and the fruity smoothies. They had the seats outside with the plush seat cushions and wide umbrellas that protected her from the sun.

That was where Max first saw her. It was rare that he got to use the Verstappen apartment inside of the safe zone. But, the last job his father had sent him on had turned into a bloodbath.

His week long visit was to try and cool him off. Verstappen wasn't one to care about death, but if Max continued the way he was going, it was going to destroy Verstappens operation.

He thought he had seen an angel.

There she sat, wearing that white sundress with the little blue flowers. She sipped her fruity drink as she looked across the street. Not at him, not where he sat in his car. No, she looked to the right of him, at the view of the tree in front of the harbour. He could see her as her pencil moved against her notebook, no doubt drawing the scene.

Max watched her until the person driving behind him beeped their horn. He quickly drove away, but he wouldn't be forgetting the angel any time soon.

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Series taglist (OPEN): @doofensmirtzevil-inc

[k0juki]

Since u asked for mafia max prompts- max takes revenge on ur father for keeping him away from you for so long. And now they are finally a family together. Just max you and eli, not that you'd have to know how or what happened to your father you're just happy max is such a devoted husband and father.

OMG?! Yes!!!

Mafia!Max Verstappen x fem!reader

Revenge

English is not my first language so feel free to point out any mistakes or errors! Also the picture is not mine! Credit goes to owner!

More mafia!Max here.

Wc: 1457

---

You and Max had a lot to catch up on, not only he wanted to be a good dad, but a loving husband as well. But that has to wait, first things first. The first few days he had spent in your penthouse, he wanted to know what Eli liked and disliked, what is his favorite Disney movies and what food he loves.

He discovered that Eli loves pancakes with homemade strawberry jam. For Max, it was too sweet, but he had made sure that it was always on the shelf, right next to sugar. Next was his favorite movie, Cars. He was really like his father with cars and nobody could change that, but what Eli absolutely didn't like was some itchy clothing and when it was raining. Strange.

And that surprised him, because you love rain and when you live in a place like London where rain is a daily occurrence, he didn't want his little boy to be scared.

That was one of his main reasons why he wanted you back in the Netherlands. Next of his reasons was your father. How he hated that man.

Not only did he have to leave behind the woman he had loved and still do, but he never got to know how Eli slowly grew up, yes he is still pretty small, but he wanted to experience it.

His first steps, he wasn't here. His first words, "mama", he wasn't here either and on his birthdays, again, he wasn't here.

Max knew that it wasn't your fault, he never took it out on you. He knew who's fault it really was. Yes, in some ways it was Max's fault too, but your father had a lot of chances to say anything to him and he didn't say a single word.

He knew what he had to do, even if his choices could have consequences, but he couldn't get over it. He had to do it. By all means necessary. For his son and for you, his love of his life.

Max had a lot of people here in London, one of them was Lando, he was one of the best and Max needed him to watch over you and Eli, as he had some important things to do.

That's what he had said to you, but you knew better. You knew what he was going to do, by just a look in his stormy, blue eyes and you let him to do it.

Of course you knew Lando, you saw him many times before you and Max broke up. He was his good friend, not just a colleague, but truly a good friend, someone that everybody deserves for life.

"I won't be gone for long, Schats." Max said as he took your head in both of his hands and softly kissed your forehead. "I will be back before you know it."

"Be careful Max." You answered, always so worried for him and hugged his waist as he held you. "Do you wanna see Eli before you leave?"

Max knew that Eli was sleeping, it was right after his lunch, but still, it is his son, so Max just nodded his head yes and you took him to his bedroom where he peacefully sleeps.

Max carefully came to his sleeping form, that was holding his stuffed elephant. He got from Max a day before and Max carefully kissed his cheek as not to wake him up. "Love you Eli, I will be right back."

He turned around and softly closed the door. "Lando will be there to watch over you both, before I come back." It wasn't a question, more like a statement.

"Lando? Lando Norris?" You asked and Max nodded. You took Maxs hand and led him to the front door. Just as you were about to say something, there was a knock on the door and Max opened.

"Hey mate, how are you doing?" Lando said happily and pulled Max in a half hug he patted him on his back. Then, as he turned around, he saw you and his never ending smile brightened up more.

"Y/n, love, how are you doing? You look amazing...like always." He said and whispered the last part in your ear as he wrapped you in a full hug. You really missed him.

"Ehmr..." Max growled and spoke as you and Lando let go of each other. "Lando, you know what to do." By that, Max means to keep you and Eli safe, don't let anyone else in and if something, anything happens, call him.

"Of course I do mate." Lando answered.

You took a few steps forward and stood right in front of him. "Be quick, alright?"

"Of course." Max answered and pulled you for a quick kiss on the forehead. "I love you Schats." With that he left.

"So, where's the little smurf?"

---

Meanwhile Max got into the car in which Charles was waiting. Charles wanted to see you too, but he and Max had some killing to do. He made a mental note to visit you later.

Charles was another mafia boss. His territory is in Monaco and everybody knows that he owns every corner there. He and Max are long time friends, since like preschool. Charles knew how important this is to him, so he didn't wasted any time and hopped on the plane to get to him.

"You ready?" Charles asked as Max got into the car. He didn't care enough to buckle himself and started a car.

"I was born ready to kill him." Max informed "Let's go."

As they arrived in front of your fathers house, Max was first to get out of the car and he was also the first to kick the door open. Gun in his hand, he shot everyone who crossed his path.

As he moved to the last door, which he knew was your father's workroom, he opened to see him sitting in his chair, with his back towards Max.

"Your father will be furious when he finds out." He had said, he didn't even try to beg because he knew it was useless, it would only hurt his ego.

"Don't forget that I have a son too, and he won't stop looking for you, till he kills you." Yes, you had an older brother, Mark. What a fucker.

His dislike for him was about as great as for your father. But he was harder to find, not many people knew where he was or what he was doing, that's why you were with Lando right now.

"I think he will understand me."

"You really think that? I guess that you don't know your father very much then, just like your son." He whispered the last part, but loud enough for Max to hear.

That was Max's last straw. He raised the gun and pulled the trigger. The blood was everywhere. Max was breathing heavily, then turned around and without a single word left the room. He needed a shower, knowing that he can't go to you like that, all bloody and sweaty.

"We will stop somewhere, so I can clean myself."

---

When Elijah woke up and came to you, he was all sleepy and confused, he didn't notice that Lando wasn't Max. His new uncle. When he did notice him was as he sat down next to you.

"Eli, this is your uncle Lando. Say hi." He turned to Lando, but then got all shy and climbed in your arms, where he knew it was safe. "C'mon Eli, he's not going to bite."

Eli turned his head to Lando and quietly said, "hi" and then he put his head back to your chest.

"Hi Eli, I heard you like cars?" That got Elijah's attention. Cars? Now he won't stop talking about them.

Just as Elijah got to talk about his car toys and movies he saw, the front door of your penthouse opened and Max walked in. Eli didn't waste any second and ran up from your arms to him. "Daddy!"

"Hey Eli." Max said as he bent down to pick him up. "Were you good for mommy?" Elijah nodded his little head and wrapped his small arms around his neck. It's unbelievable how quickly he got used to Max.

"Well, I guess I'll let you guys be." Lando said as he hugged you for the last time and then left the apartment.

"Are you alright?" You asked Max as he sat down next to you and put Eli between you two.

"Of course." Max smiled a little and put his arm around your back. "I'm just glad I'm home." He finished and tilted his head to give you a soft kiss on the lips.

---

I need more mafia Max prompts!!🩷🫶

Don't copy or translate my work!

[cadillacjohnf1]

charles leclerc simp era

[deathonthe]

kill for me one day? | 1633

pairing: charles/max

rating: explicit

word count: ~20,000

tags: mafia boss charles leclerc, unsafe sex, blowjobs, riding, choking, oblivious max verstappen

summary:

“Of course, I know you are not a criminal.” Max quickly reassures Charles. “Oh,” Charles finally says with a nonchalant roll of his shoulders. “But it’s true, though? I am a mafioso. It’s not exactly a secret. I thought you knew. The whole of Monaco knows.” Huh, Max thinks. “Huh?” Max says. “Huuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh,” Max says again.

no notes because i'm sick and tired of this fic ruining my life. also i don't think i had a single thought forming in my head while writing it. i don't remember any of it.

[leclercsluvs]

MV1 | Echoes of Sorrow

(part 1)

an: this is sorta loosely based on a song from 2006 that i used to listen to all the time. considering it's not an english song, i'm not going too much after it, just kinda the "plot" of the song. it's danish by the duo nik & jay and its called 'når et lys slukkes' so if you're up for it you can take a listen. pairing: max verstappen x fem!reader warning: kidnapping, swearing, death, drunk driving, murder, car crash, google translated french word count: 2.8k

Max knew bringing you into his life was dangerous, but it wasn't until he got the call that he realized just how dangerous it had been. You hadn’t been in danger in the four years you’d been dating. But then again, Max didn’t quite know the dangers of what he had gotten himself into in the beginning. He thought it was just an innocent way to get a ton of money. Boy, was he wrong. Now he was sitting in a bar at 12 PM because he didn’t know what to do. It had been raining all week, and right now, it certainly wasn't helping his mood.

“Can I have a refill?” Max mumbled to the bartender, pushing his glass forward. He hadn't been here for that long, but he had definitely had more than he should have. But he needed to clear his head a little, and he couldn’t do that sober. At least, that was his excuse for ending up at the bar.

“I think you’ve had enough,” the bartender walked over to him, putting a hand in front of Max. “Can I have your keys? You’re not driving anywhere like this.”

“I didn’t bring my keys,” Max lied effortlessly. “Someone drove me here. I’ll just call a cab.” He got up and walked towards the door. He could feel the tears stinging in his eyes, but he wasn’t interested in crying in front of anyone. Not right now. He just needed a bit more liquor, and he’d be set. He could find you. You were counting on him.

In fact, you knew Max was coming. He had been telling you ever since you started dating that if anything were to happen to you, he’d be the first to start looking for you. And right now, that hope was all you needed. You needed the knowledge that someone was coming, someone was looking for you. You didn’t exactly know how you ended up tied together in the trunk of a car, but you knew this was not on your to-do list for today. You weren’t even sure who was driving the car you were in, and you couldn’t feel your phone in your pocket, so you had no way to call Max.

Max stumbled into the small convenience store and picked up a bottle of vodka. “This will probably do,” he mumbled and walked to the cash register to pay.

“Mr. Verstappen! What are you doing here so early? I didn't think you’d be back today. I don't have it here,” the owner of the store looked almost terrified to see him back. Well, to be fair, he was here collecting a big sum of money just a few days ago, and let’s just say, it didn’t quite go as everyone had wanted. They still had some cleaning up to do.

“I’m not here for business today,” Max said as he placed the bottle on the counter. “Just had to pick up this.” He looked up at the man across from him, eyes blank, on the brink of tears. He wouldn't do it yet, though. Not around people. He might be liked and respected as of right now, but all that could change oh so quickly, especially if he broke down over this. So many people in this business had suffered worse, and he was on the brink of crying because his girlfriend had been kidnapped? And he didn’t even fully know if it was true yet.

“Oh, well, that will be 20 dollars,” the store owner barely finished before the money was on the counter, bottle in Max’s hand, and he was walking towards the door. He needed time alone. Now. He needed to process.

As the car came to a stop, you couldn’t do anything but hold your breath. Would you know the person who had taken you, or would he be a total stranger? The trunk opened, and the rain disappointed you. Was it really on a rainy day you got kidnapped? A man’s face appeared, and you couldn’t help the fear creeping in.

“So, you are Max’s girl now?” he spoke with a French accent. If he wasn’t a kidnapper, you would have found it kinda hot. But under the circumstances, it was anything BUT hot.

“What do you want us to do with her?” a different voice asked. You sort of recognized it, but only faintly. Was he the one who had technically kidnapped you? Most likely.

“Get her inside. I have to call Max. He needs to know for sure that we have her. I want him in the most panicked state possible before I send the body to him.” The body? Was he talking about yours? God, you were going to die on a rainy day. How awesome. The Frenchman walked away, and his friend came into view, picking you up as easily as if you were a bag of flour. You tried everything to get out, not really interested in this new fate of yours.

Max barely made it to the car before his phone rang. He looked at the caller ID. It was an unknown number. He hesitated for a second, then realized it could be someone with news about you, so he quickly accepted the call and brought the phone to his ear. “Hello?” He unscrewed the cap on the bottle of vodka and took a quick sip as he waited for a reply from the unknown caller.

“Is this Max Verstappen?” he sighed, doubting it was about you if they had to ask if it was him.

“Yes, this is Max,” he replied while screwing the cap back on the bottle. “Who am I speaking with?”

“You should come see for yourself, if you want to see your girlfriend again,” the voice stated and gave an address. Max wasted no time getting there, tears running down his cheeks. He was silent, though; he just had to get to you, had to get you back. He couldn’t let anything happen to you. He couldn’t lose you.

Against your will, you were placed on a chair in the middle of a nicely decorated room on the second floor of a huge house. You started losing hope. They weren't going to wait long, not if their plan to send your body to Max was going to be successful. Panic and fear started to mix as you were left alone in the room with your thoughts, thoughts about how this stranger was going to murder you and then send your body to Max. You couldn’t stop imagining his face. If he knew about you by now, he would be looking for you. You knew it. It had to be like that, right? He had told you so many times. He would get to you. You needed him. Your only hope was him.

Max walked up to the front door, feeling 100% sober; however, the bottle was still in his hand. Could it be useful? Maybe if it was empty. He had to get you out alive and safe, though, so anything was helpful. The front door was slightly open, so he pushed it further open, hoping no one was there. He would like for this to be a bit of a surprise. He left his phone in the car, so it wouldn’t suddenly ring or vibrate and expose him.

The first room he stepped into was a living room, nicely decorated with a lot of expensive furniture. “This asshole sure loves spending money,” Max muttered to himself as he moved further into the house, looking behind every door he passed.

He made it into the kitchen. He hadn't run into anyone yet, but he knew it wouldn't be long, and he didn't have any way to defend himself except for the bottle. But how useful was that really? He looked around the room, and his gaze landed on a set of kitchen knives, almost glinting on the table, asking him to take one with him. So he did and moved further until he got to a staircase. He could hear faint voices coming from upstairs, but he couldn't hear who they belonged to or what the topic was. He quietly made his way up the stairs, knife ready in his right hand, bottle in his left hand. He was prepared for any surprise this might throw at him.

Before reaching the very top, he stopped and wiped his eyes before taking the last step up. He looked around, making sure they weren't right there waiting for him. He moved towards the voices, and his entire body stiffened as he heard your voice. “Don't hurt him! Please! I’ll do anything to keep him safe.” Max took a couple more steps and stopped. The voices were much louder now.

“Everything, huh?” Max heard the French accent and immediately knew who it was. Pierre. Pierre fucking Gasly. Max was seething with rage. He could feel it in every fiber of his being. “How about…” The voice trailed off, and Max heard you let out a whimper. His mind was suddenly full of all the things Pierre could be doing to you. When Max heard the second whimper, it was clear Pierre was doing something to inflict pain on you, and it was almost as if something changed inside Max. He barely had enough self-control to stay put and put together a plan, but any plan he made wouldn’t be good enough if he didn't do something now.

Just as he was about to jump in and do god knows what, he heard your voice. “Va te faire foutre,” (fuck you - google translate please lmk if it's wrong <3) you spat out, and Max couldn’t help but feel proud, even if he had no clue what you said. He stood like that for a few seconds until he heard your muffled cry, and he sprung into action, not even thinking about what he was about to do, right in front of you.

Both you and Pierre, who didn’t hear Max arrive, were startled, and rightfully so. Who wouldn't be startled if a man came at you with a knife, rage in his eyes? Max wouldn’t let anything happen, even if that meant he had to kill. He tackled Pierre in less than 2 seconds simply because Pierre wasn’t prepared. Max quickly positioned himself so Pierre had no way of moving and then brought out the knife, taunting Pierre a bit before he made his first cut. No one would be able to identify Pierre when Max was done with him. However, he hadn't noticed that you were tied to the chair, forced to watch as Max dug the knife into Pierre's skin, slowly dragging out the pain. As Pierre thought the first part was over, Max quickly placed the knife in his abdomen, making Pierre cough up a bit of blood and just look at the knife with pure shock and horror in his eyes. Max locked their eyes and kept eye contact as he twisted the knife, making Pierre groan in pain. Funnily enough, Max quite enjoyed this. He slowly pulled out the knife, but not for long; he had a lot of work ahead of him. He didn’t plan to let Pierre off the hook easily.

The red blood seemed to never stop seeping out of the many wounds inflicted by Max. It felt like it was everywhere: the carpet, the walls, Max’s hands, Pierre — a mess, not recognizable at all. Max got up and looked around to see where you might have gone, only to see you strapped to the chair, tears never stopping from falling down your cheeks as you just stared at the mess in front of you. “What did you do? What the hell did you do?!” you almost screamed, pain radiating from your voice, not only from what you had just witnessed, but also from the wound above your knee, blood trickling down your leg. He should have noticed, he should have known. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid! How could he have missed this?

He rushed to your side, putting pressure on your wound, looking around for something he could use instead of his hands, but he couldn’t see anything useful. “Please tell me you’re going to be okay,” Max said, looking at your leg; the blood didn’t stop, his hands weren’t enough.

Your face was still full of tears, your skin looking a little pale. Sweat started to cover your skin. It almost looked like you had just taken a shower in your clothes. “OMG Max,” you mumbled, barely able to get the sentence out, “did you just kill him?” You looked at him with wide eyes as a sudden headache hit you, your vision became blurry. “What’s that ringing sound?” you asked, confused, barely able to focus, anxiety creeping into your brain, consuming all your thoughts.

Max was just confused. There was no ringing. It was completely quiet, except for Pierre’s ragged breaths. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Schat. There is no ringing.”

“The pain stopped,” Max looked up at you, horrified at what you had just said. You couldn’t not be in pain. He couldn’t leave the scene like this, though, so he unscrewed the cap on the bottle he brought with him and poured it around Pierre. He wasn’t sure this was going to look like an accidental fire, but did he really care about that right now? No. He only cared about you, and he needed to get you to a hospital now. He quickly got you free from the chair, took a lighter out of his pocket, ripped off a small piece of fabric from his shirt, and lit it on fire. He let go of it and let it drop to the floor, where a ring of fire quickly spread around Pierre.

He had to move quickly now. He picked you up; your body already felt lifeless. He got you to the car, luckily without running into any of Pierre’s men. It was only a matter of time before they noticed the fire.

He had to get to the hospital as quickly as he could. He floored the accelerator. Getting you to the hospital was the only thing on his mind this second, and he did make it. However, your body was limp, lifeless, and he was afraid it was too late. But he still had to try; he didn't have time to feel for a pulse, just had to get you in quickly.

“Help! Please!” he walked through the doors with you in his arms, multiple doctors running towards him.

“What happened?” a nurse asked while someone else asked for a gurney.

“I’m not sure. I was told to go to a location, and I found her inside, strapped to a chair with a wound above her knee,” Max basically told the truth, except for the part about Pierre. No one had to know about that. No one would know about that.

“Put her here, and we'll do our best to save her,” the nurse gestured to the gurney being pushed towards them in a hurry. They all disappeared in a hurry, doing everything they could. Max didn’t see much, but he did see that no one gave you CPR, which must mean you had a pulse. He looked down and noticed his hands, covered in blood, which must mean his car was covered in blood too, which meant he needed to clean it.

He rushed out, rushing to his car. He had to get home, get it cleaned up. He couldn't seem to stop crying, and the fact it was raining didn’t help his vision at all. He pushed on the accelerator a bit more, his head full of thoughts: thoughts of you dying, it being his fault. He never had to get into this business. He decided to put on some music, and the song currently being played was one of the new ones from Taylor Swift. Max didn’t mind it. He actually related a little to the song. He turned up the volume and listened to the chorus of “Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?”

A tear fell down his left cheek as the roads got a bit narrower. This didn't make him slow down; quite the opposite, actually. He sped up more. He liked the thrill of it. His alcohol level was way too high for him to be driving this quickly, in a part of town with a lot of traffic lights and pedestrians.

He didn't see the red light until it was too late. The woman crossing the road to reach her friend didn't notice either. Her boyfriend did, though, and he leaped out in front to try and push her out of the way. However, he didn't manage to do it in time. Max’s foot slammed down on the brake, but it was too late. Max closed his eyes; he knew how this would end. He heard a bang, and all light disappeared.

~

i haven't made a written fic since my wattpad days back in 2020 so i'm not sure how good this is. sorry about the cliffhanger hehe also very sorry i haven't posted in many days, i lowkey forgot about all of these, and then i got a tiny bit busy so when i did remember i didn't have time to write. anyway enjoy this while i work on something more

[iluvoscarpiastri]

this is absolutely fucking ridiculous. there is no way they can even begin to justify this???

maFIA and their hate against max strikes again alongwith their constant need to suck up to the british drivers.

a one place grid penalty and a penalty point??? and both the drivers were on prep lap. this is really so disgusting and outrageous. they’ve literally made up a penalty just for him. like this entire situation is ridiculous.

anyways, FIA is a social construct and nobody gives a fuck about what they have to say. they can’t hold me back SO MAX POLE BABYYYY

[lilghostiequinni]

Need You

Main Masterlist Max Masterlist Need You Collection

Pairing: Girlfriend female!oc x Mafia Leader!Max Verstappen

Warnings: Fluffy, more to come...

Description: Max never thought he needed someone more, but then he meets her. It's not the best of circumstances, but he still needs only her in his life.

[talictries]

lando criminal AU fic idea

“We’re not gonna’ get caught,” are Max’s convincing words and Lando has a completely dogshit feeling about this. 

“Dude,” he scuffs his sneakers against the payment. “If we do, I’m fucked.”

Button’s gonna kill him. Well, only if he gets to him before Ricciardo or Alonso do.

“Well, you won’t get fucked,” Max shoves his hands into his hoodie - no doubt where his screwdriver and pocket knife are - accent sharp - emphasis on the ‘t’s. “Because we will not get caught.”

Max’s view on things is so black and white. Lando swims in grey. Speaking of grey, that’ll be the only colour he sees on all four walls if he ends up in the can.

Really, the likelihood of getting done is infinitesimally small. How many times have he and Max been out on the town? Hundreds since they got into this industry at sixteen - two teens tryna’ make a living. Max has never been caught once.

And as for himself… well, he doesn’t really like to think about it.

Especially not now - seeing as they’re side by side scouring the streets in the dead of night. 

Carjacking is something he’s good at. Nimble fingers, precise movements, the knowledge of cars and engines and everything he and Max studied together as children in the back of Nana’s daycare wishing they would be Formula One drivers.

Fate didn’t take them there in the end - no matter how much their small minds dream. Instead, it has taken them to a McLaren.

“You good?” Max’s voice is gruff.

“Yeah,” Lando bites his lip - seals his fate. “Let’s just make this quick.”

And in thirty seconds they’re out of London’s bitter cold, and seated as passenger and driver. Max turns the heating on. Lando presses gloved fingers to the vents and feels his skin and muscles there for the first time in three days.

[theonottsbxtch]

DONT WANNA BE SAVED | MV1

an: mafia!max i DO want to be saved, please do not mix me up with the main character she's just a bit silly. also single dad!max hmu, yeah? i hope you're aware of how much googling i had to do this for request because i know NOTHING about dressage.

wc: 6.2k

The rhythmic crunch of gravel under the tyres was the only sound that cut through the quiet tension in the air. Max Verstappen drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, his sharp jaw clenched. He wasn’t used to venturing into parts of town that didn’t know his name, but for his little girl, he’d do anything—even if it meant swallowing his pride and knocking on the door of a horse trainer who clearly wanted nothing to do with him.

The GPS barked at him, announcing the final turn. Max squinted through the windscreen at the small, unassuming ranch sprawled out in the middle of nowhere. The place looked sturdy but unpolished, a far cry from the grand estates he usually associated with trainers who were supposedly “the best.” He cut the engine and stepped out, the crisp bite of the afternoon wind tugging at the tailored lapels of his suit.

The barn doors creaked open, and she emerged.

She was nothing like he expected. For someone with a reputation of being the finest dressage instructor on this side of the country, she didn’t look the part. Her hair was loosely tied back, strands falling into her face as she adjusted the cuff of her sleeve. Her boots were scuffed, her hands calloused, and there was a streak of dirt smeared across her cheek. Yet, the confidence in the way she moved was unmistakable—deliberate, purposeful, like she could size him up in a heartbeat and decide exactly how much of her time he deserved.

Max straightened as she approached, his usual commanding air faltering under her cool, appraising gaze. “Mr Verstappen?” she asked, voice calm and low, though there was a slight arch to her brow as she clocked his expensive suit against the rustic backdrop.

“That’s right,” he replied, recovering quickly. “I called about my daughter, Stella.”

“I remember.” Her tone was unreadable as she wiped her hands on her jeans and extended one to him. He hesitated a second too long before shaking it. Firm grip. No nonsense.

“She’s serious about competing,” Max continued, trying to soften the edge in his voice. “I’ve been told you’re the best, and I don’t settle for less when it comes to her.”

The corner of her mouth twitched, almost like a smile, but not quite. “Dressage isn’t about settling or not settling,” she said. “It’s about discipline, patience, and trust. None of which can be bought.”

Max’s jaw ticked at the subtle dig, but he didn’t rise to it. He was here for Stella, not to flex his ego. “You’ll have all the resources you need,” he said instead. “Money isn’t an issue.”

Her eyes flicked to him, sharp as a blade. “Good. Because if your daughter’s going to train with me, I’m going to need more than that.” She turned abruptly, gesturing for him to follow her towards the barn. “I’ll meet Stella, and we’ll go from there. But just so we’re clear—I don’t babysit, and I don’t do miracles.”

Max trailed behind her, a slow smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. She was bold, he’d give her that. Most people were too afraid to speak to him like that. Maybe she really was the best.

His shoes crunched against the gravel as he followed her into the barn. The earthy scent of hay and leather mingled with the faint sweetness of horses, instantly grounding the space. Inside, sunlight filtered through the high windows, casting golden streaks across the straw-scattered floor. A bay mare in one of the stables tossed her head, her ears twitching at the sound of their footsteps.

She leaned against the edge of the stall, absently running her fingers along the edge of the wood. “How old is Stella?” she asked, her voice carrying the clipped efficiency of someone who didn’t waste time on niceties.

“Nine,” Max said, stepping closer. “She’s ridden before, but it’s always been a hobby. Now, she’s ready to take it seriously.”

“Is she?” she asked, glancing at him.

Max frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, is she ready? Or are you?” She crossed her arms, leaning her weight casually against the stable door.

His nostrils flared, but he bit back his instinctive retort. People didn’t question him—not in his world. But this was different. For Stella, he’d let his temper take a back seat. “Stella’s the one who asked. She’s determined, and I support her in whatever she wants.”

For the first time, her expression softened, just slightly. “Good. A lot of parents want this more than the kids. It shows in the way they push them, and that pressure never works. Horses aren’t machines. They pick up on that tension, and it ruins the trust.”

He nodded, though he wasn’t entirely sure he liked being lectured. “Trust, discipline, patience,” he said, his voice taking on a dry edge. “I got it.”

Her lips twitched again, and this time he was certain it was a smile, however faint. “You don’t strike me as the patient type.”

Max chuckled, low and sharp. “You’d be surprised. I know when to wait. I also know when to act.”

Something flickered in her gaze at that, but she didn’t let it linger. Instead, she straightened and pushed open the stable door, letting the mare step out. The horse was sleek and graceful, her muscles shifting smoothly under her polished coat.

“This is Luna,” she said, patting the mare’s neck. “She’s my best. If Stella wants to learn, she’ll start with her.”

“Stella doesn’t have her own horse yet,” Max admitted, studying the animal.

“Good. That makes it easier. Luna’s a good judge of character. If Stella’s nervous, Luna will know. And if Luna doesn’t trust her...” She shrugged, leaving the rest unsaid.

Max raised an eyebrow. “What happens then?”

“She doesn’t ride,” she said simply.

He appreciated her bluntness, even if it grated at him. She wasn’t someone he could charm or intimidate, and oddly, that made him more intrigued.

As if sensing his thoughts, she brushed past him, leading Luna to a bridle rack. “Bring Stella by tomorrow. I’ll see what we’re working with.”

“And what about you?” Max asked, his voice dropping slightly, almost testing.

She turned, brow furrowing. “What about me?”

“You seem to have high expectations,” he said. “If Stella’s the one being judged, does that mean you’ve already made up your mind about me?”

Her gaze lingered on him, steady and unflinching. “You’re not the one I’m here to teach, Mr Verstappen. But if you’re asking...” She paused, her lips curving into the faintest smirk. “I’ve met plenty of men like you. You don’t scare me.”

Max tilted his head, his mouth pulling into a slow, deliberate grin. “Plenty of men like me? Somehow, I doubt that.”

The month following his first meeting with her passed in a blur of early mornings, long afternoons, and the kind of quiet determination that Max had to admit impressed him. Stella had taken to the training better than he could have hoped, and her instructor—well, she’d more than lived up to her reputation.

She was tough but fair, demanding excellence without suffocating his daughter’s enthusiasm. Max had watched every session from the sidelines, arms crossed, keeping a respectful distance but always observing. And more than once, he found his attention drifting—not to Stella, but to her instructor.

There was something about her. A kind of grit that didn’t falter, even when she was teaching patience to a headstrong nine-year-old. Her quiet confidence didn’t demand attention; it commanded it. Max had seen plenty of people fake authority, but she wore it like second skin.

He liked that.

What he hadn’t expected, however, was to see her a month later, in a completely different world.

The pounding bass hit him first, reverberating through his chest as he pushed through the crowd. The club was dimly lit, alive with movement—people dancing, drinks clinking, laughter rising over the music. It wasn’t his usual scene, but a meeting had brought him here, one of those backroom negotiations that needed the anonymity of chaos.

He’d wrapped up the deal without trouble, but as he made his way back to the main floor, something—or rather, someone—caught his eye.

There she was, behind the bar.

Her hair was down, loose waves brushing her shoulders, and she wasn’t in scuffed boots or faded jeans anymore. Instead, she wore a fitted black top and a skater skirt, a thin chain glinting at her neck under the neon lights. She moved with an easy rhythm, pouring drinks and flashing quick smiles to the patrons leaning against the bar.

For a moment, Max thought he’d imagined it. But then she turned slightly, catching his profile out of the corner of her eye, and froze.

Her eyes widened for just a second—barely noticeable—but enough for him to catch it. She recovered quickly, though, tilting her head and raising an eyebrow as if to say, What are you doing here?

Max didn’t answer her unspoken question. Instead, he made his way to the bar, sliding between two drunken men slouched over their cocktails. He rested his elbows on the polished surface, waiting for her to acknowledge him.

“Mr Verstappen,” she said finally, leaning forward slightly. Her voice was calm, but there was a flicker of something else in her expression—annoyance, maybe, or surprise. “Didn’t think this was your kind of place.”

“It’s not,” he admitted, letting his eyes roam the bottles behind her before settling back on her face. “But it seems I’m full of surprises tonight.”

She snorted softly, grabbing a glass and filling it with water. She placed it in front of him, her smirk sharp. “You look like you need this more than a whiskey.”

Max chuckled, low and rough. “Not here for a drink. Just curious.” He tilted his head, studying her. “Didn’t peg you for the nightlife type.”

“Didn’t think you were paying that much attention,” she shot back, wiping her hands on a bar towel.

“More than you realise,” Max murmured. He wasn’t sure if she caught the softness in his tone over the thumping music, but her eyes narrowed slightly, her posture stiffening.

“I could say the same about you,” she replied, shifting her weight. “What’s the boss of half the city doing in a place like this?”

“Business,” he said simply, straightening. “But that doesn’t answer my question.”

She leaned closer, resting her hands on the bar. “You’re full of questions tonight, aren’t you?”

“Just one.” His voice dipped, his gaze unwavering. “Why are you here?”

She rolled her eyes, breaking the tension with a dry laugh. “It’s called having bills to pay, Verstappen. Not all of us have cash to burn. This keeps the lights on when teaching doesn’t.”

Max didn’t miss the edge to her words, and he wondered, not for the first time, just how much she kept buried beneath that sharp exterior. She didn’t need saving—that much was obvious—but the thought of her working this job, with the late hours and the leering patrons, stirred something primal in him.

“How long have you been doing this?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

“Long enough,” she said, shrugging. “And I’m good at it. Don’t look so shocked.”

“I’m not shocked.” He paused, letting the moment hang between them. “But I’m not exactly thrilled, either.”

Her expression hardened slightly, and she straightened, putting more distance between them. “Don’t start with that ‘I know what’s best’ routine. I get enough of that already.”

Max raised his hands, palms out in mock surrender. “No routine. Just... noticing things.”

“Noticed enough, then?” she asked, turning away to serve another customer.

For the first time in a long time, Max found himself on uneven ground. He wasn’t sure if he was impressed, frustrated, or just intrigued. But one thing was certain: she had a way of staying in his head, and it was starting to feel less like an annoyance and more like an inevitability.

As she moved down the bar, he lingered, watching her work. No, she didn’t need saving. But the urge to shield her from this world, to pull her away from the late nights and the reckless strangers, was already starting to claw its way to the surface.

And Max Verstappen wasn’t the kind of man to ignore an instinct like that.

For weeks after the encounter at the club, Max couldn’t shake the image of her behind the bar. It wasn’t just the stark contrast to her usual self—confident, commanding, utterly at home in the arena—but the way it gnawed at something deep inside him.

She didn’t belong in that place, surrounded by cheap cologne and drunken hands reaching for more than drinks. The thought of her dealing with that night after night twisted in his gut like a blade.

It wasn’t just about Stella anymore. He’d grown to respect her over the past month—the way she pushed his daughter without breaking her spirit, the way she handled herself with a quiet strength that most people in his world didn’t have.

That respect, though, was starting to blur into something more. And Max wasn’t sure what to do with that.

He finally brought it up on a crisp Friday morning, just after Stella’s session. The three of them stood by the paddock, Luna grazing lazily a few feet away. Stella was laughing at something, her cheeks flushed from the chill and the effort she’d put into the lesson. Max felt a swell of pride watching her, but his gaze kept drifting back to her instructor.

When Stella wandered off to grab a snack from the car, he seized the moment.

“You’ve been doing good work with her,” he began, his voice low and steady.

She gave him a side glance, adjusting the bridle she was holding. “Thanks.”

“You know,” he continued, his tone carefully casual, “I’ve been thinking about your rate.”

Her hands froze for a split second before she turned to face him fully. “My rate?”

He nodded. “You’re worth more than what I’m paying you. A lot more. I’d like to fix that.”

Her eyes narrowed, suspicion flaring immediately. “Fix it, huh?”

“Yes,” he said, his voice firm but not unkind. “You’re not charging enough for the kind of work you do. I’m doubling it.”

She crossed her arms, tilting her head. “And what’s this really about, Max? Feeling generous all of a sudden?”

“It’s not generosity,” he said, his jaw tightening. “It’s fairness.”

Her laugh was sharp, almost bitter. “Fairness. Right. Is that what you call pity now?”

His brows shot up. “Pity? You think I pity you?”

“What else am I supposed to think? You see me working a second job and suddenly decide to play knight in shining armour?” She shook her head, a hard edge to her voice. “Keep your money, Verstappen. I don’t need your charity.”

“It’s not charity!” His voice rose slightly, and she blinked at the rare flash of frustration. He took a breath, forcing himself to calm down. “Is it a sin,” he said, his voice quieter now, “that I want to make sure you’ve got a roof over your head?”

She stared at him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Finally, she sighed and leaned against the paddock fence. “You’ve got a hell of a way of showing it,” she muttered.

“What do you want from me?” Max asked, spreading his hands. “You work yourself to the bone here, and then you go to that—” He stopped himself, his voice tight. “That place. And you think I’m just supposed to ignore it? Pretend I don’t care?”

Her lips quirked into a smirk, though there was little humour in it. “Careful, Max. You’re starting to sound like a softie.”

He barked a laugh, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah, well, that’s what happens when you’re raising a nine-year-old daughter on your own. And her closest friends are her unofficial uncles in the mafia.”

Her brows shot up, and for a moment, her lips twitched like she was fighting the urge to laugh. “That right?”

“That’s right,” he said, his tone lighter now, but his eyes still serious. “And maybe I don’t want to see someone else I—” He stopped, catching himself before he said too much. “Someone I respect running herself ragged.”

She studied him, her gaze softer now, but still guarded. “Max, I’m fine. Really. I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time, and I don’t need anyone swooping in to do it for me.”

“I know you don’t need it,” he said quietly. “But maybe I need to do it anyway.”

The honesty in his voice left her momentarily speechless. She glanced away, focusing on the horizon. “You’re impossible,” she muttered.

“Maybe,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. “But I don’t give up easily. Ask Stella.”

“Trust me, I’ve noticed,” she said, shaking her head. “Fine. If you’re so desperate to throw your money around, I’ll let you pay me more. But only because you’ll keep bugging me if I don’t.”

“That’s probably true,” he said with a shrug.

“But,” she added, pointing a finger at him, “if you start thinking this means I owe you something, I will kick you off this property.”

Max grinned, the tension between them easing slightly. “Noted.”

For now, it was enough. But as she walked away, her shoulders straight and her head held high, Max couldn’t help but think that his concern for her was starting to go beyond what he could justify as simple admiration.

And that thought both thrilled and terrified him.

He wasn’t sure when exactly it started happening—the subtle shift from guarded respect to something warmer, more playful. At first, he’d chalked it up to her stubborn streak. She never missed an opportunity to challenge him, whether it was a pointed remark about his suit and tie being out of place at the barn or her light jabs at his overprotective tendencies.

But as the weeks went on, those jabs started to feel less like walls and more like invitations.

It began innocently enough. One morning, Max showed up to Stella’s session with two coffees in hand—one black, the way he liked it, and one sweet and milky, based on an educated guess.

“Here,” he said, holding it out to her as she adjusted a saddle.

She glanced at the cup and then back at him, one eyebrow raised. “What’s this?”

“Coffee,” he replied dryly.

Her lips twitched. “I can see that. What I mean is, why are you giving it to me?”

“Because it’s cold, and I’m not completely heartless,” he said, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

She took the cup, sniffed it cautiously, then sipped. Her eyes lit up for a brief second before narrowing. “Let me guess—someone else made this choice for you, didn’t they? No way you guessed right on your own.”

He grinned. “You caught me. Stella might have mentioned you have a sweet tooth.”

“Mm-hmm.” She set the cup on a nearby ledge, her expression neutral. “Thanks, Verstappen. I’ll try not to read too much into it.”

“You do that,” he said, but his smirk lingered for the rest of the morning.

It was then a Wednesday afternoon, and Max had just arrived at the barn when he caught her pulling a boot from a deep puddle of mud.

“You look like you’re having fun,” he said, leaning against the fence with his arms crossed.

She shot him a look, her nose scrunching. “Don’t start. This is your daughter’s fault, by the way. She decided Luna needed a little adventure off the trail.”

“She’s nine,” Max said, his tone mock-defensive. “You can’t hold her responsible for everything.”

She stomped her now-filthy boot back into place and gave him a pointed once-over. “No, but I can hold you responsible. You’re the one who raised her.”

Max laughed, loud and genuine, and it startled her for a second. She recovered quickly, shaking her head as she brushed past him. “You’re lucky I like Stella.”

“Lucky, huh?” he called after her. “I’ll take that as a win.”

The following week Max was standing at the edge of the paddock, watching Stella trot a clean figure-eight, when he felt her step up beside him.

“She’s getting better,” she said, her voice low and even.

“She’s got a good teacher,” Max replied, not looking away from the horse and rider.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her roll her eyes. “Flattery doesn’t work on me, Verstappen.”

“Wasn’t trying to flatter,” he said, turning to face her fully. “Just stating facts.”

She squinted at him, clearly suspicious. “You’re in a good mood today.”

“Maybe,” he said, his smirk returning. “Or maybe it’s just that you’re finally starting to warm up to me.”

She snorted. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.” But her lips curved into a reluctant smile, and Max couldn’t help but feel like he’d scored a small victory.

By the fourth week, the playful banter had become a regular part of their routine. It was after Stella’s lesson, with the late afternoon sun casting golden light over the barn, that Max finally decided to push the boundary just a little further.

“So,” he said casually, leaning against the fence as she packed away the gear. “What do you do for fun? When you’re not working two jobs and pretending you don’t like my coffee.”

She shot him a look over her shoulder. “Why do you care?”

“Call it curiosity,” he said, shrugging. “Or maybe I’m trying to figure out if you’re even capable of fun.”

She laughed, tossing a saddle pad into the tack room. “I’m plenty capable, thank you very much. I just don’t have a lot of time for it.”

“That’s a shame,” Max said, his voice dropping slightly. “Maybe you should make time.”

She paused, turning to face him fully. Her expression was wary, but there was a flicker of something else—something that made his pulse quicken. “And what would I do with all this hypothetical free time?”

“Well,” he said, stepping closer, his tone careful but deliberate, “you could start by letting me buy you dinner.”

Her eyes widened, just a fraction, before she masked her surprise with a smirk. “Dinner, huh? Is this another one of your attempts to ‘make sure I’ve got a roof over my head’?”

Max chuckled, shaking his head. “No. This is me asking you to spend time with me. No strings, no pity money. Just dinner.”

She hesitated, her fingers brushing the edge of the bridle she’d been holding. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious,” he said, his voice softening. “Unless, of course, you’re too scared.”

That did it. Her chin lifted, and her smirk turned into a full-blown grin. “Scared? Of you? Not likely.”

“Good,” Max said, his own smile widening. “How about Friday night?”

She tilted her head, pretending to consider. “Alright, Verstappen. You’ve got yourself a deal. But don’t think this means I’m going easy on Stella.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, his chest lighter than it had been in weeks.

As she turned to finish her work, Max couldn’t help but feel like he’d just won the most important negotiation of his life.

Leading up to that Friday night, Max had been on edge all day, and he didn’t know why.

Everything had been going smoothly—Stella’s training, his business, even his tentative plans for dinner. But there was a gnawing unease in the pit of his stomach that he couldn’t shake. He’d checked his phone more times than he cared to admit, waiting for a text from her confirming their meeting, but the screen stayed stubbornly blank.

By the time the sun started setting, his patience ran out. Max grabbed his keys and headed for his car, his gut screaming at him to go now.

When he pulled up outside her small cottage, the sight of her truck with its tailgate open and half-packed belongings hit him like a punch to the chest.

He stepped out of the car, his brows furrowing as he called out, “What’s going on?”

She looked up sharply, startled. For a split second, he saw something in her eyes—panic, maybe, or guilt—but she masked it quickly, busying herself with stuffing a duffel bag into the truck bed.

“Nothing,” she said, her voice tight. “Just... handling some stuff.”

Max crossed the distance between them in a few long strides, his tone sharp. “Don’t lie to me. What’s going on?”

“I’m not lying,” she said, avoiding his gaze. “It’s none of your business, Max.”

“Like hell it isn’t,” he shot back, grabbing the edge of the truck bed. “We had plans tonight, and now I find you packing up your life like you’re running from something. Talk to me.”

She let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through her hair. “Look, it’s complicated, alright? I don’t owe you an explanation.”

“You might not,” Max said, his voice lowering, “but I’m not leaving until you give me one.”

For a moment, she stood there, glaring at him like she was debating whether to push him away or tell him to mind his own business. But then something in her resolve cracked.

“Fine,” she muttered. “You want to know? I screwed up when I was younger. Got mixed up with the wrong people—the Tifosi. And now they’ve decided it’s payback time.”

The name hit Max like a freight train. The Tifosi were no joke. Ruthless, calculating, and vindictive, they didn’t let debts slide, no matter how old.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, his voice tight with a mixture of anger and concern.

“Because it’s not your problem,” she said, her tone sharp. “I don’t need you swooping in to play hero, Max. I’ve handled worse.”

“That’s not the point!” His voice rose, frustration bleeding into his words. “You should’ve told me. I could’ve—”

“Could’ve what?” she snapped, her eyes flashing. “Fixed it? Made it all go away? Newsflash, Verstappen: not everything is yours to control. I don’t need to be saved!”

Max’s jaw clenched as her words sank in. He took a step back, his hands gripping the edge of the truck bed so tightly his knuckles turned white. Then, without a word, he grabbed the duffel bag she’d just loaded and yanked it back out.

“What the hell are you doing?” she demanded, her voice rising.

“You’re not running,” he said firmly, throwing the bag into the back of his car. “You’re coming with me.”

“The hell I am!” She stepped forward, trying to grab the bag, but Max blocked her, his voice like steel.

“Yes, you are. My daughter needs an instructor, and I’m not letting her down because of some silly little debt.”

Her mouth fell open in disbelief, anger flashing across her face. “Silly little debt? Are you out of your mind? You know who they are!”

“I do,” Max said, his tone calm but unyielding. “And I know how to deal with them.”

“You don’t understand—”

“I understand plenty,” he cut her off, stepping closer. “You think you’re the only one who’s had the Tifosi breathing down their neck? You think I don’t know what it’s like to owe them?”

Her eyes widened, her anger faltering for the first time.

“I’ve dealt with them before,” Max continued, his voice softer now but no less determined. “And I’m still standing. You don’t have to do this alone.”

She stared at him, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to process his words. Finally, she shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because,” he said, his gaze locking onto hers, “I don’t let people I care about get crushed by this life. And whether you like it or not, I care about you.”

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, neither of them said anything. Then she turned away, her shoulders tense. “Max, this is a mistake. You don’t need to get involved.”

“It’s not a mistake,” he said firmly. “And you’re coming with me, whether you like it or not. End of discussion.”

Before she could argue, he grabbed the rest of her bags, loading them into his car with a finality that left no room for debate.

She stood there, torn between fury and something she didn’t want to name, as Max closed the trunk and opened the passenger door.

“Get in,” he said, his voice steady but not unkind.

For a long moment, she didn’t move. Then, with a resigned sigh, she walked toward the car and slid into the passenger seat.

As Max got behind the wheel, he glanced at her, his expression softening just enough to show her he meant what he’d said.

“You’re not alone in this,” he murmured.

She didn’t respond, but the way her shoulders relaxed ever so slightly told him she’d heard him loud and clear.

The ride back to Max’s estate was silent, save for the hum of the engine and the occasional crunch of gravel under the tires. She sat stiffly in the passenger seat, arms crossed, her gaze fixed on the road ahead.

Max glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. He wanted to say something, to fill the tense quiet with words that might reassure her, but he knew better. She wasn’t the type to be soothed by platitudes, and besides, she’d made it clear she didn’t want his help.

Too bad, he thought grimly. She was getting it whether she wanted it or not.

When they pulled into his driveway, the sprawling estate loomed in the moonlight, its imposing structure a sharp contrast to her modest cottage. Max stepped out of the car and rounded to the trunk without a word, hauling her bags out with practiced ease.

“Where’s the rest?” he asked as she stepped out of the car.

“The rest of what?” she said, her tone clipped.

“Your horses.”

She blinked, taken aback. “They’re still at the barn. I wasn’t planning on leaving them.”

Max pulled his phone from his pocket, already dialling. “They’ll be here by morning.”

“Wait—what?” she sputtered, her voice rising. “You can’t just—”

“Watch me,” he interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument.

He spoke briefly into the phone, his words curt and to the point. When he hung up, he turned back to her, his expression calm but firm. “They’ll be transported safely. You’ll have stalls for them here.”

She stared at him, her frustration clear. “You don’t get to make decisions for me, Max.”

He shrugged, hefting one of her bags onto his shoulder. “I just did.”

The house was quiet as they entered, the kind of silence that spoke of thick walls and careful security. Max led her through the spacious halls, his steps sure and unhurried despite the tension in the air.

He stopped at a door on the second floor and pushed it open, revealing a neatly furnished room with warm, neutral tones.

“This is yours,” he said, setting her bags down near the bed.

She glanced around, taking in the plush rug, the antique dresser, and the large window overlooking the grounds. “It’s... nice,” she admitted reluctantly.

“It’ll do,” he said with a faint smirk.

He gestured for her to follow him down the hall, stopping at another door. This time, he knocked lightly before opening it.

Stella’s room was a whirlwind of bright colours and cheerful chaos. Posters of horses adorned the walls, and the bed was covered in a tangle of blankets and stuffed animals.

Stella looked up from where she was brushing her hair, her face lighting up when she saw her instructor. “You’re here!” she exclaimed, bounding over. “Are you having a sleepover?!”

She laughed softly, some of the tension easing from her posture. “Something like that, kiddo.”

“This is so cool!” Stella said, practically vibrating with excitement. “Wait till I tell Uncle Oz—oh, can Uncle Ozzy meet you in the morning? She’ll be so happy!”

Max chuckled, ruffling Stella’s hair. “Alright, alright. You can tell Oscar in the morning. Let her rest she’s just got here. And if anything happens, you call Uncle Lan. Got it?”

Stella nodded solemnly, her big eyes darting between her father and her instructor. “Are you going somewhere?”

“Just for a bit,” Max said, his voice gentle.

She pouted but didn’t argue, which made Max’s heart twist a little. He glanced at her instructor, who was watching the exchange with a quiet intensity.

When they stepped back into the hallway, she turned to him, arms crossed. “Where are you going?”

“Business,” he said simply, heading toward the stairs.

She followed him, her tone sharp. “You mean the Tifosi.”

Max paused, turning to face her. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes held an edge of steel. “I said I’d handle it.”

Her jaw tightened. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Yes, I do,” he said firmly. “They made it my business the second they came after you.”

She stared at him, her emotions warring between gratitude and frustration. Finally, she sighed, shaking her head. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

Max’s lips twitched into a faint smile. “I’ve been told.”

And with that, he was gone, his footsteps echoing down the grand staircase as she stood there, her heart pounding with a mixture of fear and something she couldn’t quite name.

The clock read just past midnight as Max pulled into the driveway, the quiet rumble of his car breaking the stillness of the night. The meeting with the Tifosi had gone as expected—tense, with more threats than he cared to count—but he’d made his position clear. They wouldn’t touch her. Not if they wanted to keep breathing.

He stepped inside the house, letting out a breath as the familiar warmth of home washed over him. The tension in his shoulders eased slightly as he moved through the quiet halls. When he reached the living room, the sight before him stopped him in his tracks.

There they were: his daughter curled up on the sofa, her small frame nestled against the armrest, and next to her, her instructor. The TV flickered softly, showing clips of a younger, brighter version of the woman beside his daughter.

He stood there for a moment, watching as the faint strains of applause and commentary played from the screen. The sight of her expertly guiding a horse through intricate dressage routines stirred something in him. But it was the way she slept now, her head tilted back, her features softened in the glow of the TV, that made his chest ache.

Max stepped closer, careful not to wake them. Stella’s head rested against the woman’s arm, her little hand clutching a stuffed horse. Max smiled faintly, his heart swelling as he reached down to scoop his daughter up.

Stella stirred slightly, her eyes fluttering open for a moment before closing again. “Daddy?” she mumbled sleepily.

“Shh,” Max whispered, kissing her temple. “Just putting you to bed, sweetheart.”

She sighed contentedly, already slipping back into sleep as he carried her upstairs. After tucking her in, he noticed her water bottle was empty and picked it up to fill it in the kitchen.

When Max made his way to the kitchen, he found Lando leaning against the counter, tidying up a canister of cocoa powder.

“Lando?” Max said, his brow furrowing. “What are you doing here?”

Lando turned, his usual smirk firmly in place. “Emergency call.”

Max raised an eyebrow. “Emergency?”

“Your kid called me in a panic because you’re apparently out of hot chocolate powder. Thought the world was ending.” Lando chuckled, placing the canister in its rightful spot. “I brought some over, but they knocked out before I could even make it.”

Max let out a low laugh, shaking his head. “Thanks. I owe you.”

Lando waved a hand dismissively. “No big deal. I live for the drama. Besides, it’s Stella. She’s got me wrapped around her finger.”

Max smiled, grateful for his friend’s unwavering presence. “Get home. You’ve done enough.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lando said, grabbing his coat. “Good luck with her, though.” He gestured vaguely toward the living room with a knowing look before heading out.

Filling up the water bottle and putting it back in its place Max returned to the living room, finding her still sound asleep on the sofa. The TV had switched to a dim, idle screen, and her breathing was soft and even.

He crouched down beside her, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. For someone so fierce and guarded, she looked almost fragile like this. Vulnerable.

Without a second thought, he slipped his arms under her, lifting her gently. She stirred, her head naturally finding its place against his chest.

“Max?” she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep.

“It’s me,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing.

She shifted slightly, nuzzling closer into him. “Thank you,” she whispered, barely audible.

His heart twisted at the simple words, and he tightened his hold on her instinctively.

“Always,” he said softly, carrying her upstairs.

When he reached his room, he laid her down carefully on the bed, pulling the blankets over her. She murmured something incoherent, her lips curving into a faint smile.

Max stood there for a moment, watching her as she drifted back into deep sleep. The weight of the night’s events pressed on him, but so did the warmth of knowing she was safe, here in his home, with his family.

For the first time in a long time, it felt like he wasn’t just protecting someone—it felt like he was building something

the end.

taglist: @alexisquinnlee-bc @carlossainzapologist @oikarma @obxstiles @verstappenf1lecccc @hzstry8 @dying-inside-but-its-classy @anamiad00msday

[bunny-jpeg]

hello, could i get nanaimo bars with a martini and glass of water on the side with Max Verstappen? also love your little bakery it’s such a cute idea and love your work too!

bakery menu

want to suggest your own order? check out the menu! there are tons of prompts for you to choose from to customize your order! and thank you for this lovely person for submitting an order!! i have still been under the weather, but i'm glad that i can finally get back into the groove of writing!

nanaimo bars ("who's my pretty girl? c'mon say it.") + martini (mafia au) + glass of water (aftercare) served by max verstappen (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, mafia au, aftercare, librarian!reader, lingerie, gentle sex, size difference/kink, missionary, max is in love, mafia boss!max

you remembered the first time you felt max's gaze on you. most would've froze at the feeling, like getting ice in the back. but, instead you turned around from the shelf you were in front of and asked, "do you need help looking for something?"

it had been the first time in his adult life that max actually felt a little intimidated. he could easily dispose of you, you had recently moved to the netherlands and had no real social circle. but, you leveled your gaze at him. it was so kind, that it left him a little scared. people were rarely kind to a man like max.

if he had taken off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves, you would've seen the kind of man he was. instead he cleared his throat against his fist and said, "i was wondering if there was a pay phone, my car has broken down and i was always told that libraries were good at helping people." he smiled at you.

you looked at him briefly and said, "alright then sir, we don't have any pay phones. but we have a phone at the front desk you can use. just let me finish up here and i'll be happy to help you."

he then followed you akwardly as you took the elevator with the empty book cart in tow. he even offered to push it for you as you led him to the front desk. you didn't even notice the small whispers and lingering gazes on the both of you, instead you got the phone and held it out to him to dial.

max knew from that moment on that you were going to be a part of his life. in any capacity he could have you, at an arms length or bone crushingly close. and over time, the more you saw of him. you thought the closer the better.

now even after three years together, the lion of holland was still in your space. when he could, he'd visit you at the library branch you worked at. he'd linger around you until it was time for your break. then you two would have lunch together in the small room in the back, amongst the stacks of returned books.

by year three, you knew who max was. he didn't try to hide it from you, he was very honest about it all. what he had done, but you in return simply asked, "if we ever broke up, would you kill me for leaving?"

and max shook his head quickly and said, "no. i could never, even if you were the one to stab me in the back. i could never harm you." and you accepted him. as long as you could still work at the library, you'd love him with all your heart.

even though your job was less than dangerous, but max worried about you being so available to the public. you knew that max kept tabs on you from time to time at work, you had become familiar with the men of max's circle. and sometimes they'd sit at the library. you simply just continued your work.

but on fridays you got to go home early, so you quickly grabbed your belongings and headed into the car. you threw yourself in the passenger side and pulled him in for a soft kiss. he took you by the face and made a soft noise into the kiss.

"someone missed me." he remarked with a chuckle as he placed his hand on your thigh, giving it a good squeeze.

"i was looking forward for today all day. it came in yesterday, and it felt like my shift went even slower than usual!" you sighed dramatically before you giggled at the feeling of your lover's lips on your neck.

"i know, i know. this gift you bought and didn't tell me what it was. you know i don't like secrets. or surprises." he gripped at your thigh for a moment.

you held his strong jaw in your hands, and beamed at him, "it's not easy to keep secrets from you, max. i usually don't keep them, but i wanted this to be special for you. since you're leaving for england in a few days."

"i know, my treasure." he sighed, "but i promise to bring you back something. as a thank you for waiting for me to come home." he leaned in once more to kiss you softly on the lips.

dinner left you feeling anxious, once you were finished you left your boyfriend in the living room while you scurried off to the bedroom to get changed. you felt your pulse quicken as you pulled out the large black box from under the bed.

you got dressed quickly. it wasn't anything too special, it was a white mesh bra and panties, with embroidered details on it. what made it stand out to was not that the embroidery was of flowers or something sweet, but rather lions. something strong and powerful, and your lover was known as the lion of the netherlands, so it was only fitting.

the stockings you wore were a similar colour and before you knew it, you had opened the door to your bedroom and called out, "max, you can come in now!" before you shut the door and almost tripped over yourself getting to the bed. you sat down and tried to pull off a sexy pose, but ended up looking silly.

so you sat there on the edge with your feet dangling just above the floor, you kept your shoulders back to highlight your breasts which were barely covered by the embroidered designs. it was either this or a collar with max's name on it.

the door opened and max stilled in the doorway at the sight of you. his heart leapt as he admired your beauty. the air got caught in his throat and he coughed a little bit. he then said, "you're beautiful."

and you got flustered at his simple words. usually you felt a little insecure, the shape of your face, the size of your eyebrows, the softness of your stomach. you were a librarian, not a model. but max looked at you like you belonged on the cover of vogue.

he approached closer, he started to undo his button up. his chest was so exposed, lined with tattoos that were symbols of his past. he swallowed as he dropped the expensive shirt onto the floor. he worked his belt off and soon he was in nothing but briefs as he got into bed with you. those strong arms wrapped around you with his nose in your hair.

"this was your little surprise, schat." he said in a low tone, his large hands roamed your body, "this was what you had bought for me. thank you, thank you, thank you." he kissed at the side of your neck and you moaned a little bit. you felt the heat in your gut.

"i wanted to make it special for you." you said as you looked into his blue eyes. you beamed at him with your hand on his bare chest, "see they have little lions on them!"

he chuckled and leaned in for a sweet kiss, "it's perfect, my love." he could feel the thump of his cold heart as he smothered you in another kiss. his fingers found the tiny waistband of the underwear and pulled them down.

"i love you, max. all of you, every last scar and tattoo, every last inch of you. i'm lucky to love you." you giggled when he grazed a calloused thumb across your clit. you moaned a little bit and leaned into his touch.

your lips touched once more and his hands found the clasp of the bra. he groaned against the kiss and his erection throbbed against his briefs. he wanted you, this little surprise was beautiful.

the smartest woman he knew also happened to be the more beautiful. he could recall many times you'd bring him a cheesy romance novel and read it to him while he basked in your warmth.

"i love you." he said as he got you onto your back fully. his hands lightly palmed your breasts before he got up on his knees and between your legs.

he eyed your curves, bare in front of him. he palmed himself through his briefs before he got them off with a little help from you. both pairs of hands on his torso and soon he was nude. back between your legs, his hands roamed his thighs for a moment as he got your legs around his waist.

"you're beautiful." he said, "so beautiful." he leaned over you and kissed you on the lips as he slipped his cock into you. every time he had sex with you, or rather made love to you, it felt like a dream.

you blushed a little and wanted to cover your face, you squirmed a little bit at the sweet words that came from your lover's mouth.

"who's my pretty girl? c'mon say it." he coaxed out of you as he thrusted against you.

you said meekly, "i'm your pretty girl."

he chuckled and planted both hands on either side of you for a good angle to thrust his hips against you. he felt the thrill of pleasure in his head as he moved against you. oh, you looked divine. he said softly as he moved his hips against you, "je bent zo mooi, ik wil alleen jou."

you blushed a little bit, "really, no one else."

he shook his head before he leaned in for another kiss, "no one. no one else ever. since the moment i saw you at the library, i knew that i had to be with you."

the praise left a curl in your gut as the two of you moved together. the kisses were deep and you felt the warmth of your lover around you. you panted between the kisses, your heart leapt at the feeling of him so close to you.

"i could never hurt you." he said, "i'd rather skin myself alive then you be without. you are my world, the thing that keeps me human. that i still have a heart."

you replied softly, "max, you've always been human." you pulled him in for a soft kiss as you wrapped your legs around him more. you two moved against one another, you giggled between moans.

"you are my beating heart, my treasure.' he said softly as he continued to move against him. the pleasure was pin pricks across his skin as he thrusted up into you.

you moaned against him, feeling the tug in your chest from his kind words. you knew that max was a dedicated man, when he set his sights on something he'd see it through to the end. that didn't stop with just work, he wanted to make sure that he gave you the perfect life.

and you didn't ask for much, you enjoyed your job and all you needed was his love and support through anything you wished to do. as you kiss once more, you felt his warmth against you.

the two of you moved against one another, you then kissed passionately. his kisses lingered on your skin, he gripped onto the bed under your back and he groaned a little at the sensation through his body.

"please."

"mine."

"forever, my dear. i'll keep you in my heart forever."

his words were honey in your blood, you felt the thrill of him in your body as you clutched onto him.

"i love you."

"i love you too."

you clutched onto your lover's shoulders. your strong, handsome lover. one of the scariest men in the country, if not the continent. he could kill anyone if he so desired, but with you, he was so loving and sweet.

he was your man, and despite all the fear he could instill. he loved you, and that love was felt in every thing he did for you. you kissed him deeply once more as you climaxed. you moaned into the kiss and he continued to thrust up into you. a few more steady thrusts of his hips and he finished inside of you, in the process pulling you in for a deeper kiss.

he slowed his pace and said, "my beautiful girl. please, please let me love you forever."

you pressed a kiss on the small scar on his cheek, an act of sweetness as you replied, "of course, always. you and i are together till you get tired of me." you giggled.

he pulled out and laid down next to you. he draped a heavily tattooed arm across your middle and gazed at you with love in his eyes. his breathing started to even out. he wiped his forehead free of sweat with his other hand before he snuggled further into your side.

he peppered your face with kisses, asking you quietly if you were alright. if you needed anything. he was the king of after care, even when the sex was as gentle as it could be.

he worried for you, as you worried for him.

you looked at him and smiled. there was a sparkle in those blue eyes. he then closed them and stayed close to you. he sighed contently.

"thank you for the gift. i almost tore them off of you, but i want to see them on you again. if i'm the big scary lion, then you're my lioness." he linked his fingers with you then kissed the top of your hand, "now and forever more." <3

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Formula One - One Shots

Charles Leclerc Leap of Faith || CL16 - fluffy blurb Too Good Prequel || CL16 -angst/fluff Going Public || CL16 - fluffy blurb A Little Longer || CL16 - fluff/smut request Pick Ups || CL16 - blurb Expensive Affection || CL16 - request Licence to Thrill || CL16 - request All That Matters || CL16 - hurt/comfort Undercover || CL16 - angst/hurt/comfort Fallen || Bonus || CL16 - supernatural au Your Safe Place || CL16 - hurt/comfort A Step Too Far || CL16 - hurt/comfort Mistakes || CL16 - angst/smut Little Lion Man || MV1 & CL16 - Mafia!AU What a Mess || CL16 - smut Used to be Young || CL16 - hurt/comfort The Bucket List || CL16 - hurt/comfort Harmony || CL16 - fluff Grounded || LN4 & CL16 - fluff Ghost Whisperer || CL16 - hurt/comfort Life Lessons || CL16 - smut For the love of god(dess) || CL16 - fluff/angst

Max Verstappen Too Good || MV1 - angsty blurb Tangled Up In You || MV1 - fluffy request Story Time || LN4 & MV1 - fluffy blurb Schrödinger's Cat || MV1 - blurb Little Lion Man || MV1 & CL16 - Mafia!AU F.I.N.E || MV1 - fluff The Real Prize || MV1 - smut

Lando Norris Sod’s Law || LN4 - blurb Say Please || sub!Lando - smut request The Exception || LN4 - blurb Story Time || LN4 & MV1 - fluffy blurb Dead Man Walking || Part Two || LN4 - angst/smut The Fine Line || LN4 - smut request Best Friends Share Everything || LN4 & CS55 - fluff Meet the Parents || LN4 - blurb We've Got Tonight || LN4 - angst/fluff Setting Him Free || Meant To Be || Yours, Always || LN4 - angst/happy ending Pretty Necklace || sub!Lando - smut Pity Fuck || Part Two || LN4 - smut Grounded || LN4 & CL16 - fluff Belle Mort || LN4 - smut You Came, You Called || LN4 - angst/fluff Life is like a Box of Chocolates || LandOscar - smut Boy Toys || CarLando - smut Angel || LN4 - fluff

Carlos Sainz Jr Afterglow || CS55 - smut request Addicted || CS55 - blurb Chilly Chilli || CS55 - blurb Best Friends Share Everything || LN4 & CS55 - fluff Red Flags || CS55 - smut Boy Toys || CarLando - smut The Uphill Battle || CS55 - angst/smut

Misc. Romantic at Heart || DR3 - fluff Declaration of Independence || LS2 - hurt/comfort Bee Stings and Butterfly Kisses || SV5 - fluff Privacy || PG10 - angst blurb End of the Road || LH44 - angst/fluff Under the Mistletoe || OP81 - fluff Life is like a Box of Chocolates || LandOscar - smut It Started With A…|| CarLandOscar - angst/fluff

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[vivwritesfics]

Bleeding From The Storm

Chapter Two - Angel

After the death of his son, the head of the Dupont family wants his daughter protected. He moved her to Monaco, the safe zone, and has her protected by Charles Leclerc. Max Verstappen was never supposed to meet her. He didn't even know who she was. But he knew she was beautiful, and he knew he wanted to know more, much to the horror of Charles Leclerc.

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Series Masterlist

READ PLS: hello my lovelies!! So, if you're here from the first part, pls either reread or take note that I have removed all connection to the bianchi family -- the brother is called Louis and the last name is Dupont

Max returned to that spot time and time again. He drove past the café almost every day for his first week in Monaco. Sometimes his angel was there, sometimes she wasn't.

This time, though, when Max drove past, she was there. Sitting in the café with a fruity smoothie in front of her, wearing another sun dress. This time it was green, the skirt slightly shorter and little white flowers decorating it.

Max parked up around the corner. He straightened his tie and climbed out of his car. Always dressed in a suit just in case anybody needed him. Just in case his father called him back to work.

He walked past her, paying no mind as he stepped through the café doors. But then he stepped back, something between a smirk and a smile on his face as he walked towards her.

"Hi," he said, his hand on the back of the chair opposite her own. "Can I ask what you ordered? I'm hoping to get something sweet."

She knew not to talk to strangers. Even before the death of her brother, she had been taught how much danger she was in at all times. Normally Charles would be here to take care of it, to glare a the stranger until they moved away.

But Charles wasn't here. This is what she got for sneaking out.

Thank God this guy was cute. That shouldn't have been a reason to answer him, but she did. She held up her plastic cup and shook it slightly, answering him. "Strawberry banana," she said and put the straw to her lips. Max watched as the pink liquid moved up the straw. "It's incredibly sweet."

Max couldn't stop his smile from widening. He leaned against the chair in front of him now, not just resting his hands on it. "Is it as sweet as you?"

Oh, he was flirting with her.

She couldn't hide her embarrassment. Every time a mad had tried to flirt with her before, Charles had shut them down and scared them off.

But this man, well Charles wasn't there to scare him off. For the first time in her life a man was openly flirting with her. He was flirting with her and it was making het all bashful. And maybe a little bit shy.

He held his large hand out towards her. She couldn't help but take notice of the watch on his wrist. It was no doubt expensive, but that wasn't a surprise, considering where they were. "I'm Max," he said, keeping his hand stretched out.

She took it, but her grip was loose as she told him her name. "But everybody calls me Bunny."

"Bunny," he responded, listening to the way it rolled off of his tongue. He liked it, liked how it sounded. But, if everybody called her Bunny, Max needed something else. He looked at her, really looked at her. Looked at the way her hair fell around her shoulders, the way her fingers, nails painted to match her dress, wrapped around her plastic cups. Looked at the way her pink lips wrapped around her straw. "Angel. I think it's more fitting."

Before Max could say anything further, his phone beeped. Saving her, he couldn't help but think. "Well, Angel, I have to go," he said, standing up straight. "Can I see you again?" 

She smiled as she nodded. "You know where to find me," she said and sipped the rest of her drink.

Max looked at her once more and walked away, down the street and back to his car. For the last week Max had been waiting for his father to call him back to work and, now that he had, he didn't want to leave. 

Max disappeared and she was alone. She sipped her smoothie and returned to her small sketchbook, pencil moving against the page. 

Suddenly, somebody slipped into the seat opposite her. She looked up, hoping it was Max, returning to flirt with her some more. But she was met with disappointment.

"Oh, Arthur," she said when she looked at the youngest Leclerc brother. "Am I in trouble?"

Arthur let out a small laugh and furrowed her brows at her. "You sneak out too often to get into trouble, Bun," he replied as he looked around. 

"Not because I spoke to that guy?" She asked innocently. 

But Arthur's face dropped. He may have been younger than her, but he was still tasked with keeping her safe. "Do you remember what this guy looked like, Bunny?" He asked as he grabbed her sketchbook and pulled her from her chair. 

She nodded her head as Arthur led her down the street. "He was cute," she said and let out a little laugh. 

But Arthur wasn't laughing as he looked around the streets. "You know that's not what I meant," he replied as he led her into her apartment building. "You know you're not meant to talk to strangers."

He dragged her up the stairs and pulled her into her apartment. Arthur immediately sat her down and checked every crevice of the apartment. He grabbed the knife from the kitchen and checked inside of the bedroom. 

Nothing, her apartment was clear. 

"Fucking hell, Bunny," Arthur spat. "You had me terrified."

She pouted as she fiddled with her fingers. "He was flirting with me, 'thur. I think he really thought I was cute," she mumbled and laid herself down on the sofa, pulling her legs into her chest. 

Arthur released a breath from his nose as he looked down at her. "Of course he did, Bunny," he whispered and ran his fingers through her hair. "It's just... Charles and I don't know this person. We don't know if they can be trusted.”

She didn't reply.

Eventually Charles came to her apartment. When he let himself in, Arthur retreated to the kitchen. To 'make dinner', he had said. (But, something you should know about the Leclerc brothers is that neither of them could cook very well. Arthur stopped by his mothers every night for dinner and Charles wouldn't eat unless Bunny cooked for him).

The first thing Charles did was stride over to her. He sat on the end of the couch and looked down at her. "I'm not mad you snuck out," he said. Which, although it sounded like it, it wasn't a good sign. If it wasn't because of the sneaking out, he was mad about something else.

She didn't look at him, instead staring at her coffee table. There was a light layer on dust on it, and she made a mental note to clean it later. After this stupid conversation.

"But, Bunny, I need you to tell me who this guy is. Did he give you a name? Any indication of who she was?"

She'd made the mistake of telling Arthur something, she wasn't going to do it again. She tried her best to shrug her shoulders from the position she was sitting in, but it didn't much work. "He just asked what flavour my smoothie was," she said and sat up slightly.

She couldn't tell if Charles believed her or not. He simply let out a sigh and patted her leg. "Wanna get take out?" He asked softly. "We can kick Arthur out, share Chinese food and watch a movie. How does that sound, Bun?"

Her arms were folded over her chest as she sat up and looked at him. "Are you paying for it?" She asked through a pout.

"Yeah, Bun, I'll pay for it," he said and went to the kitchen to grab the menus. At the same time he kicked Arthur out of the apartment (grateful that he hadn't started cooking any sort of monstrosity yet).

Charles knew exactly what he was going to be ordering, but he still handed her the menu. She asked for the same thing every time, and this time was no different. He was on the phone, ordering food within minutes.

He couldn't concentrate on much through the movie. Charles watched her, but he couldn't help but think of some faceless stranger, snatching her in the middle of the night.

He'd let her get away with sneaking out, even if he hadn't meant to. But not again. There was no way Charles was going to let her out of his sight now.

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