vanishingcherry

[vanishingcherry]

Car Trouble

Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: in which it starts with Max insisting that you borrow one of his many cars while yours is in the shop and somehow turns into you being dragged away in handcuffs because (according to your jealous housemates) the only way you could ever afford a car like that is by having stolen it … suffice to say, your protective boyfriend is less than amused

Warnings: law enforcement abuse of power

The thing is, you know it’s a gamble the moment you put the key in the ignition. Your little car, a 2004 Fiat Panda with a chipped paint job and a suspiciously rattling exhaust, has been teetering on the edge for months. But it’s all you have, and it’s gotten you this far.

Except now, as you sit in Max’s driveway, the dashboard flickers ominously, a banner of orange warning lights. You groan, lean your head against the steering wheel, and curse under your breath. Maybe it’s the alternator. Or the battery. Or the car’s just finally decided it’s had enough.

Max is at his kitchen window, a mug of coffee in hand, his eyes narrowing as he watches you. He steps out, still in his Red Bull Racing hoodie, hair a mess, and jogs over. You don’t even get the chance to open your mouth before he’s leaning down, peering through your open window.

“Car trouble?” He asks, but it’s more of a statement than a question.

“Take a wild guess,” you mutter, throwing your hands up.

He chuckles, low and warm. “Let me have a look.”

He gestures for you to pop the hood, and you do, reluctantly. Max circles around, lifting it with a practiced ease, his brow furrowing as he inspects the engine. You know he’s not a mechanic, but he knows enough to recognize that it’s bad news.

“I think it’s, um, all of it,” he says, voice laced with amusement. He looks up at you. “You really drove all the way here like this?”

“I didn’t have a choice,” you say defensively. “It was fine when I left. Mostly.”

Max gives you a pointed look but lets it slide. He straightens up, wiping his hands on his jeans, and nods toward the house. “Come on. I’ll call someone to get it towed.”

You hesitate. “Max, I can-”

“I know you can,” he interrupts gently, eyes locking with yours. “But why should you?”

He has this way of cutting through your defenses with a single look, and it’s infuriating. You sigh, climbing out of the car and slamming the door shut. Max winces, raising an eyebrow.

“Easy. I think she’s suffered enough,” he teases.

You glare at him, but he’s already dialing a number, one hand braced on his hip, the other holding the phone to his ear. He’s so calm, so unbothered, like this is just another Friday, and your car isn’t smoking in his driveway. It makes you feel small, somehow, and a little embarrassed.

“Hey, mate. Got a Fiat here that needs towing. Yeah, looks pretty bad. Can you get someone here today?” Max pauses, glancing at you, then back to the ground. “Nah, it’s not mine. It’s my girlfriend’s.”

The word hangs in the air, filling the space between you. It’s not the first time he’s called you that, but every time he does, it sends a little thrill through you. You shove your hands into your pockets, kicking at the gravel with the toe of your shoe as he finishes up the call.

“Right,” he says, slipping the phone back into his pocket. “They’ll be here in an hour or so. Want to come inside?”

You nod, following him up the steps and into the house. It’s quiet, save for the faint hum of the fridge and the creak of the floorboards beneath your feet. Max leads you to the kitchen, where the smell of freshly brewed coffee lingers in the air. He pours you a cup without asking, handing it to you as you sink into a chair.

“So,” he begins, leaning against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. “What’s your plan?”

You shrug. “Get it fixed, I guess. If it’s even worth fixing.”

“It’s not,” he says bluntly. “That thing’s a death trap.”

You know he’s right, but hearing it out loud stings. “I can’t just buy a new car, Max.”

“I’m not saying you should,” he replies, voice softening. “But you can’t keep driving that. It’s not safe.”

There’s a beat of silence, the kind that makes you feel like you should say something, but you don’t know what. Max watches you carefully, like he’s trying to figure out what’s going on in your head. He always does that — wants to fix everything, make it all better. And it’s sweet, but sometimes, it’s exhausting.

“Look, I have an idea,” he says finally, pushing off the counter and walking over to you. “You can use one of my cars until yours is sorted.”

You blink up at him. “Max, I can’t-”

“You can,” he insists, a determined edge to his voice. “And you will. You need a car, and I have plenty. It makes sense.”

“It’s too much,” you protest, shaking your head. “I can’t just borrow one of your cars like it’s no big deal.”

“It is no big deal,” he counters, his gaze steady and unwavering. “It’s a car. I have, like, a dozen of them. And I want you to be safe.”

The logic is sound, but it still feels wrong. You open your mouth to argue, but Max holds up a hand.

“Let me finish,” he says, his tone gentle but firm. “You’re here for the weekend, right? We’ll get your car towed to a shop, see what they say. In the meantime, you use one of mine. If they can’t fix it, we’ll figure something else out.”

“Max-”

“No arguments,” he interrupts again, smiling faintly. “Please. For me.”

You huff, staring down at your coffee like it might provide some kind of answer. When you look up, Max is still watching you, his expression soft and earnest. He’s not going to let this go, you realize. And maybe, just maybe, he’s right.

“Which one?” You ask, finally relenting.

A slow grin spreads across his face. “The DBS.”

Your eyes widen. “The Aston Martin?”

He nods, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Yep.”

“You’re insane,” you say flatly. “I can’t drive that.”

“Sure, you can. I’ll teach you.”

“That’s not the point.”

“What is the point, then?” He steps closer, dropping to a crouch in front of you so you’re eye to eye. “That you don’t want to accept help from your boyfriend? Because, if that’s it, we’re going to have a problem.”

His words catch you off guard, and you can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. “You’re really not going to let this go, are you?”

“Not a chance,” he murmurs, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “I want you to have it. Just until you’re sorted.”

You let out a long breath, your shoulders sagging as the fight leaves you. “Fine. But I’m not keeping it.”

“Deal,” he says instantly, a triumphant gleam in his eyes.

There’s a beat of quiet as he stands, pulling out his phone again. He’s about to dial when you speak up.

“Wait.”

He pauses, glancing at you. “Yeah?”

You chew on your bottom lip, considering your next words carefully. “Are you sure? I don’t want to scratch it or-”

“Hey,” he cuts you off, voice gentle. “It’s a car not a piece of priceless china. It’ll be fine.”

His nonchalance is almost infuriating, but you can’t help the way your heart swells at his unwavering confidence in you. He believes in you, even when you don’t.

“Okay,” you whisper, and it’s like something shifts in the air between you. Max’s gaze softens, and he reaches out, squeezing your hand.

“Good. Now, let’s go get the keys.”

***

It’s raining, and the house smells like damp clothes and stale toast. Chloe stands by the living room window, holding her cup of tea, her gaze idly drifting over the dreary street. The drizzling rain matches her mood, which is sour on a good day and worse now that she’s been stuck inside with a mountain of uni work she has no interest in.

A sigh escapes her lips, louder than she means it to, but no one’s around to hear. Her housemates — well, most of them — are scattered across campus, probably doing something useful with their lives. And then there’s you. Always flitting in and out with your head held high, like you’re too good for this dump of a house.

Chloe rolls her eyes at the thought of you. She’s been harboring this quiet disdain ever since you moved in. It’s irrational, she knows that. You haven’t done anything to her, not really. But there’s something about the way you carry yourself, always so composed, so put together, that grates on her nerves. And lately, you’ve been acting … different. Happier, even. Chloe’s seen you, the way you disappear for the weekends, only to return with that smug smile. It’s not hard to guess why.

Chloe knows you have a boyfriend, though you’ve been annoyingly tight-lipped about it. She’s overheard snippets of conversation, seen the texts you try to hide when someone else walks into the room. But still, she can’t figure out why you’re with someone who clearly has money. A lot of money. The kind of money girls like you — girls like them — don’t get near unless there’s some major luck involved.

As she stares out the window, she suddenly sees something that makes her pause. Her tea sloshes dangerously close to the rim of the mug as her hand freezes. There, pulling into the lot, is an Aston Martin. Glossy, sleek, and roaring like a mechanical beast as it glides through the rain. The headlights cut through the fog, and the car comes to a slow, calculated stop directly in front of their house.

Chloe’s brow furrows, her pulse quickening. What in the world …

She watches, transfixed, as the driver’s door opens, and you step out, closing the door behind you like it’s no big deal. You glance around the street, pulling the collar of your jacket higher against the rain, completely oblivious to the fact that Chloe is practically burning a hole through the window with her gaze.

“What the hell?” Chloe breathes, her voice sharp in the stillness of the room.

Her eyes narrow as you cross the street, keys jingling in your hand, moving with an air of confidence that has no right to belong to someone pulling up in a car like that. Chloe watches every step, every casual flick of your wrist as you lock the car and walk toward the front door.

She should turn away, pretend she didn’t see anything, but her brain is spinning, trying to process the absurdity of the situation. That’s a three-hundred-thousand-pound car. You can barely afford rent, let alone something like that. Her mind races with the only plausible explanation — there’s no way in hell that car belongs to you.

Chloe slams her cup down on the coffee table, not caring that it splashes tea everywhere, and darts toward the stairs. She takes them two at a time, bursting into her flatmate Amelia’s room without knocking.

“Amelia! You won’t believe this.”

Amelia looks up from her laptop, startled. “Chloe, what the-”

“Come here. Now.”

She doesn’t wait for a response, spinning on her heel and rushing back down the stairs, Amelia reluctantly trailing after her. Chloe pulls her toward the window, jabbing a finger in the direction of the car still parked outside.

“Look,” she says breathlessly, her words tumbling out too fast. “Look at that.”

Amelia leans closer to the window, blinking at the car through the rain-streaked glass. “Is that an Aston Martin?”

“Exactly.” Chloe’s voice is a mix of disbelief and something darker. “And guess who just stepped out of it?”

Amelia frowns, her brow creasing. “No way. You’re joking.”

“I’m dead serious. She just parked it like she owns the place. What the hell is going on?”

Amelia lets out a low whistle, leaning back against the couch. “I mean, that’s … that’s not normal.”

Chloe folds her arms, pacing the length of the room now. “She’s probably stolen it. I mean, there’s no way she could afford something like that. Do you know how much that car’s worth?”

Amelia shakes her head slowly, eyes still glued to the car outside. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s her boyfriend’s?”

“That’s what I thought,” Chloe snaps, “but come on, who does she know that has that kind of money? I don’t care who her boyfriend is, something’s off.”

They both fall silent for a moment, the only sound the rain tapping against the window. Chloe’s mind races, jumping to conclusions faster than she can keep up. Everything about this feels wrong. She’s always suspected there was something up with you, but this? This is something else entirely.

Amelia breaks the silence, her voice hesitant. “Maybe she’s just lucky? I mean, maybe he’s, like, rich-rich. You know?”

Chloe scoffs. “No one gets that lucky. And she’s been acting so secretive lately. What if she’s involved in something shady? I mean, who just pulls up in a car like that?”

Amelia shrugs, clearly unsure how to respond. But Chloe’s not done. There’s a fire in her now, a burning need to know what’s going on. You’ve always been too quiet, too private, and now it’s all starting to make sense. There’s no way you’re as innocent as you pretend to be.

She whirls back around to Amelia, eyes blazing. “You know what? I’m going to call the police.”

“What?” Amelia’s eyes widen in shock. “Chloe, are you serious? You can’t just-”

“Yes, I can,” Chloe cuts her off, already reaching for her phone. “She’s clearly up to something, and I’m not going to sit here and let her get away with it.”

Amelia tries to protest, but Chloe’s mind is already made up. Her fingers fly across her phone screen, dialing the non-emergency number. Her heart pounds in her chest as the call connects, and she presses the phone to her ear, pacing as she waits for someone to pick up.

“Chloe, this is crazy,” Amelia says again, her voice laced with anxiety. “You don’t even know-”

“Shh!” Chloe hisses, waving a hand to silence her.

Finally, the line clicks, and a calm voice greets her. “Thames Valley Police, how can I help you?”

Chloe takes a deep breath, her voice steady as she launches into her story. “Hi, I’m calling to report a suspicious vehicle. It’s parked outside my house, and I’m pretty sure it’s been stolen.”

The operator asks for details, and Chloe rattles off the make and model of the car, her eyes never leaving the Aston Martin still parked outside. She glances at Amelia, who’s biting her lip, clearly uncomfortable with the whole situation, but Chloe’s too far gone to care.

“I just … I know the girl who’s driving it, and there’s no way she could afford a car like that,” Chloe explains, her tone sharp. “I think she might have stolen it.”

The operator asks a few more questions, and Chloe answers each one with growing confidence. She can feel it in her bones — something’s off, and she’s not about to let it slide.

When the call ends, Chloe lets out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding, her hands shaking slightly as she lowers her phone.

“Chloe, you didn’t have to do that,” Amelia says quietly, her voice full of worry. “What if you’re wrong?”

“I’m not wrong,” Chloe insists, her jaw clenched. “You’ll see. The police will sort it out.”

She turns back to the window, her eyes narrowing as she watches the car, half-expecting something to happen. But nothing does. The car sits there, pristine and out of place, mocking her with its sheer audacity.

And you? You have no idea what’s coming.

***

It’s supposed to be a quiet afternoon — one of those rare breaks between classes when you can actually catch your breath. The rain’s let up, and a misty sun filters through the clouds, casting a soft glow over the pavement outside. You’re halfway up the stairs to your room, your backpack slung over one shoulder, when there’s a loud knock on the door.

The sound is sharp, authoritative, and it echoes through the house, stopping you in your tracks. You glance down, frowning slightly. It’s not like you’re expecting anyone, and the others aren’t home yet. Maybe it’s just a delivery.

But then the knocking comes again — louder, more insistent. Your unease deepens as you drop your bag and head back down the stairs. By the time you reach the door, a faint prickle of anxiety is buzzing under your skin.

You pull the door open, and there they are — two uniformed officers standing on the doorstep. They look serious, their expressions neutral but firm, and you feel your heart sink. This isn’t a casual visit.

“Can I help you?” Your voice is steady, though confusion laces each word.

One of the officers, a tall woman with cropped brown hair and a no-nonsense gaze, steps forward. “Are you the owner of the Aston Martin parked outside?”

The question takes you by surprise. “Um, no,” you say, blinking at them. “It’s not mine, but-”

“We’re going to have to ask you to step outside, please,” the other officer, a man with a stern jawline and dark eyes, interrupts. He glances over your shoulder, as if assessing whether you’re alone.

“What’s this about?” You can hear the uncertainty in your voice now, a sharp edge creeping in. “The car belongs to my boyfriend. I’m just borrowing it-”

“Step outside, miss,” the woman repeats, her tone brooking no argument.

Swallowing hard, you do as you’re told, stepping out onto the front stoop. The chill of the autumn air hits you, and you wrap your arms around yourself instinctively. This isn’t making any sense.

“I don’t understand,” you say again, a little louder this time. “What’s going on?”

The officers exchange a look, and then the man speaks. “We received a report that the vehicle may have been stolen. We need to ask you a few questions.”

“Stolen?” The word feels foreign on your tongue. “No, it’s not stolen! I told you, it belongs to my boyfriend-”

“Do you have any proof of ownership?” the woman asks sharply, cutting you off. “Registration documents, anything like that?”

You open your mouth, then close it, frustration building. “The registration is in the glove compartment. If you just let me get it-”

“Stay where you are,” the man says firmly, holding up a hand to stop you. “We’ll check it ourselves.”

“Can’t you just let me show you?” You take a step forward, but both officers tense, their hands hovering near their belts. Your heart stutters in your chest, a cold trickle of fear sliding down your spine. “I’m telling the truth! I can unlock the car and show you. Please, just let me-”

“Miss, please calm down,” the woman says, her tone laced with a warning. “We’re following protocol here. If you cooperate, this will go much smoother.”

“But I am cooperating!” The words burst out, your voice rising despite yourself. “I’m not lying. It’s my boyfriend’s car, he let me borrow it while mine is in the shop-”

“Miss, we need you to step away from the vehicle,” the man says again, more forcefully this time. He pulls out a small notepad, flipping it open. “What’s your boyfriend’s name?”

You hesitate, caught off guard. “Max,” you say finally, your voice faltering slightly. “Max Verstappen.”

There’s a pause — one that stretches uncomfortably long. The officers exchange another look, something almost skeptical passing between them.

“Right,” the woman says slowly, like she’s testing the words in her mouth. “And you expect us to believe that Max Verstappen, the Formula 1 driver, lent you his Aston Martin?”

“Yes!” Your hands are shaking now, anger and disbelief mixing with fear in a volatile cocktail. “Why would I lie about that? Just let me-”

“Miss,” the man interrupts, his tone hardening. “We need you to turn around and place your hands behind your back.”

The words hit you like a slap, knocking the breath from your lungs. “What? No, you can’t-”

“Turn around and place your hands behind your back,” he repeats, each word clipped and precise.

You look from him to the woman, desperation clawing at your throat. “Please, just let me open the car. I can prove it’s not stolen. Please-”

But they’re not listening. Before you can say another word, the woman steps forward, reaching for your arm. You flinch back instinctively, panic flaring in your chest.

“Don’t-”

“Miss, don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be,” the woman says sharply, grabbing your wrist with practiced ease. She spins you around, her grip firm but not painful, and then you feel the cold, unforgiving bite of metal as she snaps a pair of handcuffs around your wrists.

“No, wait-” You twist, struggling against her hold, but it’s useless. The cuffs dig into your skin, and you can’t breathe, can’t think.

“Please, I didn’t do anything! You’re making a mistake!”

The man steps closer, his face impassive. “You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defense if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence …”

His voice blurs, the words running together in a nauseating hum. You shake your head, tears stinging your eyes. “No, no, please, I didn’t steal anything! Just call Max, he’ll explain-”

“Miss, we’re taking you down to the station,” the woman says, steering you away from the house and toward their patrol car parked at the curb. “We’ll sort this out there.”

“Wait!” You stumble, the cuffs biting into your wrists as they push you forward. “You’re not listening! The car isn’t stolen! If you just let me get the registration-”

But they ignore you, their grips unyielding. The street seems to tilt and blur as they guide you toward the back of the car, your shoes scuffing against the wet pavement. Everything feels surreal, like you’ve been dropped into a nightmare you can’t wake up from.

The woman opens the back door, and the man gives you a gentle but firm shove. You fall into the seat, the leather cold against your legs. They close the door with a solid thunk, the sound reverberating through your bones.

“Please,” you whisper, leaning forward as much as the cuffs allow. “You’re making a mistake. I’m telling the truth …”

But they’re already walking away, their voices low as they talk to each other. You catch fragments of their conversation — words like “protocol” and “standard procedure” — but it all feels distant, unreal.

You slump back in the seat, staring blankly out the window as the patrol car starts up, the engine a low, steady hum. The world outside blurs into a swirl of gray and green as they pull away from the curb, and your mind races, panic and disbelief tangling together in a messy knot.

How did this happen? One minute you were heading to your room, and now you’re being carted off to a police station like some sort of criminal. It doesn’t make any sense.

You try to replay the last few minutes in your head, searching for something — anything — you could have said or done differently. But there’s nothing. They weren’t listening to you. They didn’t care about your explanation. They just saw a girl with an expensive car and decided you must be guilty of something.

Tears prick your eyes again, and you blink them back furiously. You can’t fall apart now. You have to think, to figure out what to do next.

Max. You need to call Max. He’ll sort this out. He’ll tell them the truth, and they’ll have to let you go. But how are you supposed to do that when they’ve got you locked up in the back of a patrol car?

The drive to the station feels like it takes forever, each second dragging out in painful clarity. You try to keep calm, to breathe through the panic tightening in your chest, but it’s hard when every bump in the road makes the cuffs dig deeper into your skin.

Finally, they pull up in front of the station, and the officers get out, coming around to your side. The door opens, and the woman leans down, her expression unreadable.

“Come on, miss. Let’s get this sorted out.”

You nod numbly, letting them help you out of the car. Your legs feel shaky, your whole body trembling with a mixture of fear and anger. They lead you up the steps, through the front doors, and into a small, sterile room that smells faintly of disinfectant.

“Please,” you say one last time, your voice breaking. “Please, just call him. He’ll explain everything.”

But they only exchange another glance, and the woman shakes her head slightly. “Let’s get your statement first, miss.”

And then they’re sitting you down, the lights glaring down from above, the cuffs still biting into your wrists. And all you can do is sit there, your heart pounding in your chest, as the nightmare continues to unfold around you.

***

The fluorescent lights above hum softly, the cold, sterile environment of the police station pressing down on you from every angle. It feels like you’ve been here for hours, your wrists still red from the handcuffs, a dull ache in your joints from sitting on the hard chair. Every second stretches, torturing you with the weight of waiting.

You're trying to stay calm, but your thoughts keep spiraling — back to the car, back to the police showing up at your doorstep, back to the way they refused to listen. Your voice shakes every time you try to explain, but it’s like they can’t hear you. It’s suffocating.

Across the room, the officer — her name’s Thompson, you think — sits at her desk, flipping through some paperwork. The sound of pages turning feels louder than it should. Every time you shift in your seat, she gives you this look, like she’s annoyed by your very presence. Like she’s waiting for you to break.

Finally, you can’t take it anymore.

“I want to make a phone call,” you say, your voice cutting through the stillness. You sit up straighter, your hands balled into fists on your lap.

Thompson doesn’t even look up. “You’ll get your chance,” she says dismissively, still flipping through the file.

“No,” you say, firmer this time. “I want to make it now. I have the right to make a phone call.”

This time, she looks up, her expression flat. “You’ll have to wait.”

“I’ve waited long enough,” you snap, surprising yourself with the force in your voice. Your patience is gone, the fear of being trapped in this nightmare pushing you into desperation. “I know my rights. I’m allowed one phone call, and I want to make it.”

Thompson raises an eyebrow, like she’s weighing whether or not you’re serious. After a beat, she sighs, pushing the stack of papers aside and standing. “Fine,” she says curtly. “One phone call.”

She leads you to a small side room — bare, with only a table, a chair, and a landline phone sitting in the middle. You sit down, and Thompson places the phone in front of you like it’s some kind of offering.

“One call,” she says again, her eyes narrowing. “Make it count.”

You don’t hesitate. You dial Max’s number, your fingers trembling slightly as you press the buttons. The ring tone fills the room, each ring stretching out the time between your breaths. You press the phone closer to your ear, your heart pounding.

It rings once. Twice. And then-

“Hello?”

Max’s voice comes through the line, smooth and steady, as if he’s just woken up from a nap and isn’t even remotely phased by the sudden call. But you know him better than that — there’s a sharp edge beneath the surface, a protective tension that’s always there when it comes to you.

You swallow hard, fighting back the lump in your throat. “Max …”

There’s a pause, and when he speaks again, his tone shifts — serious, focused. “What’s wrong?”

“They arrested me,” you say, the words rushing out before you can stop them. “The police — they think I stole your car.”

There’s silence on the other end, just for a second. Then his voice drops, low and dangerous. “What?”

You feel the weight of his anger through the phone, and for the first time since this nightmare began, you feel a flicker of relief. He’s going to fix this. He’s not going to let them treat you like this.

“They showed up at the house,” you explain, your voice trembling slightly. “They wouldn’t let me get the registration. They didn’t believe me when I said the car was yours. They just-”

“Where are you?” His voice cuts through your explanation, sharp and commanding. “Which station?”

You glance around the room. “Bedfordshire Police Station. They won’t let me-”

“Stay where you are,” he says, his voice brooking no argument. “Don’t talk to anyone else. I’m on my way.”

The line goes dead before you can respond, the dial tone ringing in your ears. You stare at the phone for a moment, your heart racing. You know Max is angry — no, furious — but that anger isn’t directed at you. It’s for them, the people who put you in this position.

Thompson steps back into the room, her expression unreadable. “Finished?”

You nod, handing the phone back. She doesn’t say anything as she leads you back to the main room, but you can feel her eyes on you, judging, assessing.

You sit down again, your legs shaky, but now there’s a quiet fire burning in your chest. Max is coming. He’s going to make this right.

The minutes tick by, painfully slow. Thompson goes back to her paperwork, the other officers moving around the station like it’s just another day. But for you, every second is excruciating, the tension building in your chest like a storm.

Then, finally, the door to the station swings open with a heavy thud, and you hear the low murmur of voices — followed by a voice you’d recognize anywhere.

Max.

You can’t see him from where you’re sitting, but you can feel the shift in the room. There’s a sudden stillness, the officers glancing up from their desks, their postures stiffening. Even Thompson’s face changes, a flicker of surprise crossing her features before she composes herself.

You strain to hear the conversation at the front desk, but it’s muffled. Still, you catch bits and pieces — his name, the car, your name. And then there’s the sharp, unmistakable edge of authority in Max’s voice as he says something that makes the desk officer sit up a little straighter.

Moments later, the door to the holding area swings open, and there he is. Max strides in, every movement purposeful, his eyes locking onto you immediately. There’s a fire in his gaze — controlled, but fierce — and the tension in his jaw tells you everything you need to know.

He’s not just angry. He’s livid.

“Max …” Your voice is small, a mixture of relief and shame. You hadn’t wanted to drag him into this mess, but you also know that no one else could’ve handled it the way he can.

He crosses the room in a few quick strides, his hand reaching for yours. “Are you okay?” His voice is low, steady, but you can hear the tightness underneath it.

You nod, but tears prick at your eyes. “I-I didn’t know what to do. They wouldn’t listen to me …”

He squeezes your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I’ve got it from here.” His tone is resolute, his eyes never leaving yours.

Then, without another word to you, Max turns to face the officers. His entire demeanor shifts, his posture straightening, his presence filling the room with an air of control that demands respect.

“Who’s in charge here?” He asks, his voice calm but unmistakably authoritative.

Thompson steps forward, though there’s a flicker of hesitation in her movements. “I am,” she says, trying to keep her voice steady. “Officer Thompson.”

Max doesn’t waste time with pleasantries. “You arrested my girlfriend under suspicion of theft. I’d like to see the evidence you have for that.”

Thompson falters, her eyes flicking over to the other officers. “We … we received a report of a stolen vehicle, and-”

“And instead of verifying the ownership, you decided to arrest her?” Max’s voice is cold, each word measured. “Did you even check the registration in the glove compartment?”

Thompson’s jaw tightens. “We were following standard procedure. She became agitated and-”

“She was agitated because you were treating her like a criminal,” Max cuts in, his tone sharp. “You had no reason to arrest her. If you had checked the registration, you would’ve seen my name on it.”

He takes a step closer, his presence towering over Thompson, making her shift uneasily on her feet. “Do you know who I am?”

There’s a beat of silence. The room feels like it’s holding its breath.

Thompson nods slowly. “Yes. Mr. Verstappen, we-”

“Then you know how much trouble you’re in,” Max says, his voice dropping to a dangerously low tone. “You’re going to release her. Now. And then you’re going to issue a formal apology.”

Thompson blinks, clearly taken aback by his bluntness. “Mr. Verstappen, I understand your frustration, but we were simply-”

“Don’t patronize me,” Max interrupts, his voice sharp enough to cut through the tension in the room. “You’ve already made a mess of this situation. Don’t make it worse by pretending this was some kind of mistake. You arrested her because you assumed she didn’t belong in that car. Because you didn’t bother to listen.”

Thompson opens her mouth to argue, but Max doesn’t give her the chance. “I’ll be contacting my legal team,” he says, his tone firm. “And if you don’t release her immediately, I’ll make sure this becomes a very public issue.”

The threat hangs in the air, thick and heavy. Thompson hesitates for a moment longer, and then — finally — she nods.

“Release her,” she says quietly, signaling to one of the other officers.

The relief that washes over you is immediate, your heart pounding in your chest as the handcuffs are removed. Max’s hand is on your shoulder in an instant, grounding you, his touch warm and reassuring.

“Let’s go,” he murmurs, his voice softening as he looks down at you. “We’re getting out of here.”

You nod, letting him guide you out of the station. But before you step through the door, you glance back at Thompson, who’s still standing there, her expression strained.

Max pauses, following your gaze. He meets Thompson’s eyes, his expression unreadable. “Don’t ever treat her like that again,” he says quietly, the words carrying more weight than any threat could.

And with that, he leads you out into the cool night air, his arm wrapped protectively around you as you step outside.

***

Max’s fingers are wrapped tightly around your wrist, his grip firm but not painful, as he guides you toward his car in the station’s dimly lit parking lot. It’s quieter out here, the cool air thick with the scent of autumn leaves and something sharper — the lingering smell of petrol. The night is still, almost peaceful, a stark contrast to the whirlwind of chaos you’ve just been dragged through.

But Max’s silence is unnerving. He’s holding onto your hand like it’s the only thing tethering him to reality, and you can feel the tension radiating off him in waves.

He stops in front of a sleek, black Porsche 911 GT3 RS, the kind of car that turns heads and raises eyebrows. It’s an aggressive machine, all sharp edges and raw power — just like Max right now.

“Get in,” he says, his voice low and controlled, as if he’s holding back a storm. He opens the passenger side door for you, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that makes your breath catch.

You hesitate for a second, looking up at him, trying to gauge his mood. “Max-”

“Get. In,” he repeats, enunciating each word with a finality that leaves no room for argument.

You slip into the passenger seat without another word, the leather cool against your skin. The car’s interior is immaculate, everything in its place, the faint smell of new leather lingering in the air. Max rounds the front of the car and slides into the driver’s seat, his movements tight and controlled. He doesn’t say anything as he starts the engine, the car roaring to life with a low, throaty growl.

He peels out of the parking lot with a precision that feels almost surgical, his eyes locked on the road ahead, his jaw clenched. The silence between you is heavy, charged with an emotion you can’t quite name.

“Max-”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” His voice cuts through the quiet like a blade, sharp and accusing. His knuckles are white against the steering wheel.

You blink, taken aback by the question. “Tell you what?”

“That they arrested you,” he says, each word bitten off like it’s leaving a bad taste in his mouth. “That they-” He breaks off, shaking his head like he can’t even bring himself to say it. “Why didn’t you call me immediately?”

You swallow hard, your gaze dropping to your lap. “I-I didn’t want to worry you. You were probably busy, and-”

“Busy?” He lets out a short, humorless laugh, his eyes flashing as he glances at you. “You think I care about being busy when something like this happens? When you’re involved?”

“Max, I didn’t want you to-”

“To what? Be pissed off? Too late for that,” he snaps, his voice tight with barely restrained anger. He takes a deep breath, his grip on the steering wheel loosening slightly. “What happened, exactly?”

You tell him, your voice halting at first but gaining strength as you recount every detail — the officers showing up, the handcuffs, the questions, the disbelief when you tried to explain the car belonged to him. Max’s expression darkens with each word, his jaw set in a hard line.

“They just … wouldn’t listen,” you finish softly, staring down at your hands. “I told them it was yours. I even tried to show them the registration, but they didn’t care.”

“They didn’t care because they had already made up their minds,” Max growls, his voice a dangerous rumble. “They saw you and assumed you didn’t belong in that car.”

He exhales slowly, trying to steady himself. You can see the struggle in his eyes, the way he’s fighting to keep his temper in check.

“Why would they think the car was stolen in the first place?” He mutters, more to himself than to you. His fingers tap restlessly against the steering wheel, his mind clearly racing.

You hesitate, chewing on your bottom lip. “Someone must have reported it,” you say slowly, the realization dawning on you as you speak. “Someone must have seen me with it and assumed …”

Max’s gaze snaps to you, sharp and focused. “Who would do that?”

“I-I don’t know.” You shake your head, frustration bubbling up inside you. “It could’ve been anyone. The car … it stands out. Maybe someone thought it looked out of place at the house.”

Max’s frown deepens. “No,” he says firmly, his eyes narrowing. “No, it wasn’t just anyone. It was someone who knows you. Someone who knew that wasn’t your car.”

The words hang in the air between you, heavy and damning. Someone who knew you. Someone who saw you with the Aston Martin. Someone who-

“One of your housemates,” Max says, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous murmur.

You open your mouth to protest, but then you stop, the pieces falling into place in your mind. One of your housemates. One of the people who knows you can’t afford a car like that, who might have thought — wrongly, jealously — that you had gotten your hands on it through some shady means.

Max’s eyes are hard, unyielding. “It has to be,” he says, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “Someone saw you with the car and called the police. There’s no other explanation.”

You take a deep breath, the realization settling in your chest like a lead weight. “But … why would they do that? Why would they assume I stole it?”

“Because people are idiots,” Max mutters, his gaze flicking back to the road. “Because people are jealous. And because they didn’t like seeing you with something they thought you shouldn’t have.”

There’s a bitter edge to his words, and it makes your heart ache. Max has dealt with his share of jealousy, of people looking at him like he doesn’t deserve what he’s earned. He knows what it’s like to be judged, to have assumptions made about him based on nothing but surface impressions.

But this is different. This is personal.

“Whoever did this,” Max says, his voice low and controlled, “is going to regret it.”

Your eyes widen, a pang of fear and something else — something almost like excitement — flaring in your chest. “Max, wait-”

“We’re going to your house,” he continues, his tone brooking no argument. “We’re going to find out who made that call, and I’m going to make sure they understand exactly what kind of trouble they’ve caused.”

“Max, no,” you protest, your voice rising. “You don’t have to do that. I-I can handle it. I’ll talk to them, I’ll-”

“No, you won’t.” He glances at you, his eyes blazing. “You’ve been through enough tonight. I’m handling this.”

You open your mouth to argue, but the look on his face stops you cold. There’s a steely determination in his eyes, an unshakeable resolve that tells you there’s no point in fighting him on this.

He’s already made up his mind.

“Max, please-”

“Enough,” he says softly, but there’s no gentleness in his tone. “I’m not letting them get away with this.”

You fall silent, your heart racing as the car speeds down the quiet, empty streets. The tension in the car is suffocating, but there’s also a strange sense of relief. Relief that he’s here, that he’s taking control, that he’s going to make this right.

You know you should feel bad, should feel guilty for dragging him into this mess. But right now, all you feel is a fierce, overwhelming sense of gratitude.

Max’s hand finds yours again, his fingers lacing through yours, squeezing gently. “It’s going to be okay,” he murmurs, his voice softening just a fraction. “I’m going to take care of it.”

You nod, swallowing back the words you want to say — the apologies, the pleas for him not to do anything reckless. Because you know it won’t make a difference. Max is stubborn, determined, protective to a fault. And when it comes to you, he’s willing to do whatever it takes.

The drive to your house feels both too long and too short, every second charged with anticipation. When Max finally pulls up outside your shared house, he cuts the engine and turns to you, his expression unreadable.

“Stay in the car,” he says firmly.

You blink, surprised. “What?”

“Stay. In. The. Car.” He enunciates each word with that same controlled intensity, his eyes boring into yours. “I’m going inside.”

“Max, you can’t-”

“I can and I will,” he interrupts, his voice leaving no room for argument. “I’m not letting you go in there and face them after everything that’s happened tonight.”

He reaches out, his hand cupping your cheek gently, his thumb brushing over your skin in a soft, soothing gesture. “Just stay here, okay? Let me handle it.”

You want to argue, to tell him it’s not necessary, but the look in his eyes stops you. There’s a fierce protectiveness there, a determination that makes your chest tighten.

“Max …”

“Please,” he murmurs, his voice softening. “Just this once. Let me take care of it.”

You hesitate, then nod slowly. “Okay.”

He leans forward, pressing a quick, firm kiss to your forehead before pulling back. “Good.”

And with that, he steps out of the car, the door closing with a soft thud behind him. You watch as he strides toward the front door of your house, his shoulders squared, his posture radiating confidence and control.

But the second he disappears from view, you find yourself reaching for the door handle. You know he told you to stay in the car. You know he wants to protect you.

But you can’t just sit here and let him fight your battles for you.

Taking a deep breath, you push the door open and step out into the cool night air, following him up the path toward the house.

***

The door swings open with a resounding bang, ricocheting with enough force to make the picture frames on the adjacent wall rattle. Every head in the common room snaps up, eyes wide and startled as they turn toward the unexpected intrusion.

Max stands in the doorway, the very picture of barely restrained fury, his presence so commanding it seems to suck the air out of the room. His gaze sweeps over the small group of people lounging on the mismatched sofas, taking in their shocked expressions and slack-jawed stares with a level of disdain that’s almost palpable.

“What the hell is going on?” He demands, his voice a low, dangerous growl that reverberates through the room.

No one answers immediately. They’re all too stunned, too caught off guard by the sudden appearance of the tall, broad-shouldered stranger radiating aggression. It’s Chloe who finally finds her voice, pushing herself up from her seat on the sofa and taking a hesitant step forward.

“Um, excuse me, but who are you?” Her voice wavers slightly, but she lifts her chin defiantly, trying to project an air of authority. “You can’t just barge in here like this.”

Max’s eyes lock onto her, and something in his gaze makes her flinch back, the confidence in her stance faltering. He doesn’t bother answering her question. Instead, he turns his head slightly, calling out over his shoulder.

“Come in here,” he says, his tone softer but no less commanding.

You step into the doorway behind him, hesitant and unsure, your gaze flicking nervously between Max and your housemates. You don’t miss the way their expressions shift when they see you — surprise, confusion, and something darker, more judgmental, flickering across their faces.

“Y/N?” It’s Amelia who speaks this time, her brows furrowed in confusion. “What’s going on? Who is this guy?”

Max’s jaw tightens, his gaze still fixed on Chloe. “I’m Max,” he says curtly, as if the name alone should explain everything.

It clearly doesn’t. The blank stares from around the room make that abundantly clear.

“Max Verstappen,” he adds, impatience lacing his tone. Still no recognition. “Formula 1 driver? Y/N’s boyfriend?” He tries again, a hint of disbelief in his voice now.

A flicker of something like realization crosses a few faces, but Chloe just scoffs, folding her arms across her chest.

“Yeah, sure,” she mutters, rolling her eyes. “And I’m Lewis Hamilton.”

Max’s lips curl into a cold, humorless smile. “Trust me, I would never want to be him.”

The comment flies over Chloe’s head, but it’s enough to send a ripple of laughter through the room. Max’s smile fades as quickly as it came, his expression hardening once more.

“I’m her boyfriend,” he says again flatly, jerking his head in your direction. “And I’m here to find out which one of you decided it was a good idea to call the police and have her arrested.”

The laughter dies instantly. The air in the room thickens with tension, eyes darting from Max to you and back again.

“Arrested?” Amelia repeats, her voice rising in pitch. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Max snaps, his gaze still boring into Chloe, like he can see straight through her. “One of you called the cops and reported her for driving a stolen car. Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

A murmur of confusion ripples through the group, genuine bewilderment on most faces. But Chloe’s eyes dart away, a flicker of guilt crossing her expression before she schools it back into one of indifference.

“What — no, that’s ridiculous!” She says, her voice a touch too high-pitched. “Why would any of us do that?”

Max’s gaze narrows, his eyes zeroing in on her like a hawk spotting prey. “I don’t know,” he says, his voice dangerously quiet. “You tell me.”

There’s a beat of silence, thick and heavy. Chloe shifts uncomfortably, her gaze flickering toward the others as if searching for support. But no one says anything. No one moves.

“Look,” Chloe finally says, trying for a breezy tone that falls flat. “If she got arrested, that’s … that’s not our fault, okay? Maybe there was a misunderstanding or something.”

Max’s eyes flash, and you feel a shiver run down your spine at the barely restrained fury simmering beneath the surface.

“A misunderstanding?” He repeats, his voice deceptively calm. “Yeah, I’d say there was a huge misunderstanding. Like the fact that you assumed she couldn’t possibly be driving that car legitimately. Like the fact that you assumed she’d have to steal it to have something that nice.”

He takes a step closer to Chloe, and she instinctively steps back, her expression faltering. “Whoever made that call didn’t just cause a ‘misunderstanding.’ They caused a whole lot of trouble for no reason other than pettiness and jealousy.”

“Hey, wait a minute-” One of the other housemates tries to interject, but Max doesn’t even spare her a glance.

“Do you know what it’s like to get a phone call telling you the person you love is sitting in a cell?” He asks, his gaze never leaving Chloe’s face. “Do you know what it’s like to hear that they were treated like a criminal just because someone here,” — he practically spits the word — “decided to be a self-righteous, vindictive bitch?”

The room goes deathly silent. Chloe’s face has gone pale, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, no words forthcoming.

“Max, maybe we should-” you start, reaching out to touch his arm.

He cuts you off with a quick shake of his head, his eyes still locked on Chloe. “No. She needs to hear this.”

You shrink back slightly, your stomach twisting with a mix of anxiety and something else — something like relief. Because as harsh as Max is being, there’s a part of you that’s grateful. Grateful that he’s standing up for you, that he’s putting words to all the anger and frustration you’ve been bottling up since this whole nightmare began.

“You don’t get to treat people like that,” Max continues, his voice low and cold. “You don’t get to make snap judgments about someone based on what you think they deserve. And you sure as hell don’t get to sic the cops on them just because you’re too insecure to handle seeing someone else with something you want.”

Chloe’s lips tremble, her eyes darting around the room as if looking for an escape route. “I … I didn’t …”

“Didn’t what?” Max demands, his voice rising. “Didn’t think it would matter? Didn’t think about the consequences? Or didn’t think you’d get caught?”

The accusation hangs in the air, thick and suffocating. No one moves. No one breathes.

“I didn’t think-” Chloe starts, but the words catch in her throat. She swallows hard, her gaze dropping to the floor. “I just — I thought …”

Max lets out a short, harsh laugh. “Yeah, you thought. That’s the problem.”

He takes a deep breath, running a hand through his hair as if trying to calm himself. When he speaks again, his voice is lower, steadier, but no less cutting.

“You know what? I don’t even care what your excuse is,” he says quietly. “Because there is no excuse. Nothing you say is going to change what you did. Nothing is going to make up for the fact that you had her dragged off in handcuffs for no reason other than your own messed-up assumptions.”

Chloe flinches at the words, her shoulders hunching as if she’s trying to make herself smaller. You almost feel a pang of sympathy for her — almost. But then you remember the cold metal of the handcuffs around your wrists, the humiliating feeling of being treated like a criminal, and the sympathy evaporates.

“So here’s what’s going to happen,” Max says, his tone brooking no argument. “You’re going to apologize. Right now. To her.”

He steps back slightly, giving Chloe a clear line of sight to you. She hesitates, her gaze flicking up to yours, and for a moment, she just stares at you, her eyes wide and fearful.

“I … I’m sorry,” she finally mutters, the words barely audible.

Max’s gaze hardens. “Louder.”

“I’m sorry,” Chloe repeats, her voice trembling. “I-I didn’t mean for things to get so out of hand. I just … I thought the car was … that it wasn’t …”

You raise an eyebrow, waiting for her to finish. But she trails off, her face crumpling with guilt and shame. It’s not much of an apology, but it’s more than you expected.

You take a deep breath, nodding slowly. “Okay,” you say quietly. “Thank you.”

Max nods once, satisfied. “Good. Now, if I ever hear about you pulling something like this again,” he says, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper, “you’ll regret it. Understand?”

Chloe nods frantically, her face ashen. “Y-Yes, I understand.”

“Great.” Max turns away from her, his gaze softening as it lands on you. “Come on,” he murmurs, reaching out to take your hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

***

The Porsche purrs along the quiet stretch of motorway, the engine’s deep growl a steady undercurrent to the conversation hanging in the air. It’s late — well past midnight — but neither of you seem in any hurry to get home. There’s a lingering tension, a heaviness that neither of you know quite how to disperse.

Max’s hand grips the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles stark against the leather. You watch him from the corner of your eye, the faint glow of the dashboard casting shadows across his face. His jaw is set, his gaze fixed firmly on the road ahead, but there’s a tightness around his eyes that betrays the frustration simmering beneath the surface.

He hasn’t said much since leaving your house. Just a few clipped sentences, terse reassurances that he’s not mad at you, that you didn’t do anything wrong. But the words feel hollow, inadequate against the weight of what happened tonight.

After a few more minutes of silence, Max finally speaks, his voice low and controlled. “I talked to the mechanics earlier today.”

You blink, taken aback by the abrupt shift in conversation. “The mechanics?”

“Yeah.” He glances at you briefly before returning his gaze to the road. “About your car.”

Oh. You feel a pang of anxiety, your stomach twisting unpleasantly. You’d almost forgotten about your poor, beat-up little car, abandoned at some garage in Milton Keynes. “What did they say?”

Max hesitates, his fingers drumming against the steering wheel. “It’s … not good.”

You swallow hard, your heart sinking. “What do you mean?”

“They think it’s beyond saving.” His voice is careful, as if he’s trying to break the news gently. “There’s too much damage. The engine’s shot, the transmission’s on its last legs … basically, it’d cost more to repair it than it’s worth.”

You stare at him, uncomprehending. “But … but I just had it serviced a few months ago,” you protest weakly. “It shouldn’t be that bad-”

“It’s not your fault,” Max interrupts gently. “That car’s been through hell. It’s a miracle it’s lasted as long as it has.”

“But I can’t just … give up on it,” you say, a note of desperation creeping into your voice. “It’s my car, Max. I need it.”

“You need a car,” Max corrects softly. “Not that car. There’s a difference.”

You shake your head, frustration bubbling up inside you. “I can’t afford a new one right now. I still have to pay for-”

“Hey, hey.” Max’s hand leaves the steering wheel to rest on your knee, squeezing gently. “I’m not saying you have to buy a new car.”

You narrow your eyes at him, suspicion flaring. “What are you saying, then?”

“I’m saying,” Max begins, his tone careful, measured, “that I’ll get you a new one.”

The words hang in the air between you, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him, your mind struggling to process what he’s suggesting.

“No,” you say finally, shaking your head vehemently. “Absolutely not.”

Max’s brow furrows, his gaze flickering to yours. “Why not?”

“Because … because that’s ridiculous!” You sputter. “I’m not letting you buy me a car. That’s way too much.”

“It’s not too much if you need it,” he argues calmly.

“Yes, it is!” You insist, your voice rising. “It’s too much, and it’s not your responsibility. I’ll figure something out-”

“Like what?” Max challenges, his voice sharpening. “What are you going to do, keep borrowing cars you’re hesitant to actually use? Take public transport everywhere? What happens when you need to get somewhere and you don’t have a ride?”

“I’ll manage,” you say stubbornly, crossing your arms over your chest. “I always have.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t have to anymore,” Max snaps, his frustration breaking through. “Why won’t you just let me help you?”

“Because it’s not your problem to solve!” You shout back, the words bursting out before you can stop them.

Max goes silent, his gaze turning stony. For a few long moments, the only sound in the car is the steady thrum of the engine and your own harsh breathing.

When he finally speaks again, his voice is low and controlled, but there’s an edge to it that makes your stomach twist. “You’re my girlfriend. That means if you have a problem, it is my problem to solve.”

The certainty in his tone makes your breath catch in your throat. You look at him, really look at him, and see the determination blazing in his eyes, the stubborn set of his jaw.

“Max …” you begin softly, but he cuts you off with a quick shake of his head.

“No, listen to me.” He takes a deep breath, his hand tightening on your knee. “I know you’re independent. I know you’re used to handling things on your own. But this isn’t about money, or pride, or any of that. It’s about making sure you’re safe, that you have what you need to get around. And right now, that means getting you a new car.”

You open your mouth to argue, but he presses on, his gaze never wavering from yours.

“Let me do this for you,” he says quietly, almost pleadingly. “Please.”

His sincerity takes the wind out of your sails, your protests dying on your lips. You stare at him, the weight of his words settling heavily on your shoulders.

“But … it’s just … too much,” you say weakly, your resolve crumbling.

Max’s expression softens, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I don’t think so. And even if it is, I don’t care. You’re worth it.”

The simple, earnest declaration sends a rush of warmth flooding through you, your heart swelling in your chest. You feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes, and you blink them back furiously, refusing to let them fall.

“Why do you have to be so damn convincing?” You mutter, half exasperated, half amused.

Max’s smile widens slightly, his thumb brushing gently over your knee. “It’s a gift.”

You huff out a laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“I’ve been told,” he says dryly, his eyes twinkling with a hint of humor. “So … you’ll let me do this?”

You hesitate, chewing on your bottom lip. It still feels like too much, like accepting would be crossing some invisible line. But there’s a part of you that knows he’s right — that trying to handle this on your own would be stubborn and impractical and would probably end up causing more problems than it’s worth.

And more than that, you can see how much it means to him. How much he wants to do this for you.

“Fine,” you say finally, letting out a long sigh. “But only because you’re so damn insistent.”

Max’s grin is dazzling, the relief and joy in his eyes almost overwhelming. “Good. I’ll start looking for something first thing tomorrow.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real annoyance behind the gesture. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Unbelievably in love with you,” he counters smoothly, his grin widening at your soft, exasperated laugh.

“Cheesy,” you accuse, but the smile tugging at your lips betrays you.

“Maybe,” he concedes with a shrug. “But it’s true.”

You shake your head, your heart feeling lighter than it has in days. “I’m still not letting you get me something ridiculously expensive,” you warn, trying to sound stern.

“We’ll see,” Max says noncommittally, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Max-”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” he says quickly, holding up his free hand in mock surrender. “We’ll get something practical, okay? Something that’s safe and reliable and not … ridiculous.”

You narrow your eyes at him suspiciously. “Promise?”

Max’s smile softens, and he nods, his gaze holding yours steadily. “Promise.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, a sense of peace settling over you. Maybe it’s not ideal, accepting something so big from him, but … maybe it’s okay to let him take care of you, just this once.

“Okay,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the hum of the engine.

Max’s smile is soft and warm and full of so much affection it makes your chest ache. He leans over, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin.

You close your eyes, leaning into his touch. “No, thank you.”

[vanishingcherry]

can't hear the haters | cl16

if she can't hear, and she always forgets her hearing aids, how is she going to hear the haters?

in which charles' deaf partner gives zero (0) shits

liked by yourusername, lorenzotl, and others

charlesleclerc summer break recharge

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pierregasly where is leo? nobody wants to see you, only leo

→ charlesleclerc where is kika? nobody wants to see you, only kika

→ francisca.cgomes 😂

user1 are we all just going to pretend we don't see the second photo??????

user2 aaaw maman pascale and her boys 😭

joris_trouche 🫣

→ user1 LET ME IN

carlossainz55 mate when are you coming to madrid

→ charlesleclerc as soon as i can convince someone to get off the boat 😂

→ yourusername 🤫

user3 no seriously who is that girl and why do I want to be her so bad?

liked by charlesleclerc, leclerc_pascale, and others

yourusername not pictured: a day of relative silence after i dropped my hearing aids into the ocean

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lorenzotl tutto quello che ricorderò è che cha agitava le braccia come un pazzo per attirare la tua attenzione 😂 all i'll remember is cha waving his arms like crazy to get your attention

→ yourusername non l'ho visto! i didn't see him!

leclerc_pascale ma jolie fille ❤️ my pretty girl

→ yourusername je t'aime maman i love you

charlesleclerc ❤️❤️❤️

iamrebeccad i see charles didn't make the aesthetic dump

→ yourusername he was grimacing and yelling at the tv in all the pictures!!!

joris_trouche bring me the leftover cake

carmenmmundt tengo que verte en italia!!!! i need to see you in italy!

→ yourusername estaré en monza no te preocupes chica! i will be in monza, don't worry girl!

yourusername added to their story

liked by carlossainz55, arthur_leclerc, and others

charlesleclerc not the outcome we were hoping for coming into this weekend. next stop, home race of monza 💪

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carlossainz55 good drive mate

joris_trouche ready for italia 💪 💪 💪

user4 ferrari needs to take a good long look at the tractor they're calling an f1 car

user5 make the tifosi proud!!!!

arthur_leclerc only way to go is up frère 💪

→ yourusername ❤️❤️❤️

user6 he doesn't stand a chance against max

yourusername added to their story

liked by charlesleclerc, francisca.cgomes, and others

yourusername monza con il predestinato e il leoncino monza with the predestined one and the little lion

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charlotte2304 bella ragazza ❤️ pretty girl

→ yourusername sorellaaaaaa sister

francisca.cgomes my favorite pasta partner

→ yourusername always <3

charlesleclerc ❤️❤️❤️

pierregasly leo definitely does not want to be looking outside

→ yourusername hater

→ pierregasly 😛

iamrebeccad i better see you in singapore missy

→ yourusername 🫣

liked by user2, user4, and others

f1gossip il predestinato was spotted picking up a girl at his hotel after the end of the monza gp. fans say that the two were communicating via sign language before she got into the car. fans are also saying that she could be the same girl from his summer photo dump.

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user7 aww she's so cute. she was signing at him before he even parked 🥹

user3 IS THIS THE GIRL FROM THE SUMMER DUMP? OMG SHE'S MY ROLE MODEL

user2 she's so adorable omg

liked by iamrebeccad, charlotte2304 and others

yourusername can't hear the haters (literally)

user7 your honor i love her

lorezotl did you ever find your hearing aids?

→ yourusername not having them is more peaceful most times 😛

charlesleclerc chérie, tu dois utiliser tes appareils auditifs sweetheart you have to use your hearing aids

→ yourusername non, merci no, thank you

→ yourusername the people i want to talk to know sign language les gens à qui je veux parler connaissent la langue des signes

user8 leo 🥹

carmenmmundt te amo muchísimo 😂 i love you a lot

→ yourusername y yo a ti and me to you

user9 put some respect on mother's words (signs)

mona speaks:

hello 👋 i'm mona. this is my first work, and something that I have been working on for a very long time. please like, reblog, and send me requests for what you want to see. grazie e ti amo <3

[vanishingcherry]

i just think it’s funny that alex and rebecca waited a year to post carlos and charles on their instas

[vanishingcherry]

Hi 🤗 Fluff request! A lazy Sunday in the life of Harry and the reader. Everyone knows Harry Styles, the superstar, but if people could see how Harry and the reader spend a day at home, they would not only love him even more but truly see that Harry is a homebody who loves to spend time with his loved ones.

hiii!! i LOVE a fluff request thank you so much <33 hope this is okay!

word count - ~1.2k

🍯*💛*🍯*💛*🍯*💛*🍯*💛*🍯*💛*🍯*💛* 🍯

The headline read: Harry Styles - Hate To Love Him

Often the tabloids were cruel, but no one had yet published an article with all the reasons not to like Harry - until last night.

Harry had caught sight of the headline whilst you’d been watching a movie together on the sofa. Instead of hiding it and how he felt about it from you, he instantly showed it to you.

The night had ended with soft tears from Harry and a whole lot of loving from you.

You watched Harry sleep.

You two had ended up sleeping on the sofa, having not bothered to move when you were already both so comfortable.

Harry had drawn a blanket over your bodies and your body heats had done the rest. You were snuggled against Harry’s chest with your legs entangled with his. Your body rose as he breathed in - the rhythmic motion enough to lull you back to sleep.

His bare chest smelt so comforting with the remanence of his cologne still sticking to him.

Your finger drew soft shapes against the outlines of his tattoos, watching his chest breathe in and out. It was comforting knowing he was sleeping peacefully, especially after such a horrible evening.

It was cruel that people created up bullshit narratives just so they can earn their pay-check. Why bring others down so much? Didn’t they feel the slightest bit of guilt?

“Harry.” You whispered.

The sun was shining through the curtains telling you it was way past the point of waking up.

Sometimes you both needed a morning in like this though. Some extra time to share between you both. Harry always needed a little extra love after having a rough time with the tabloids. They got him so down that sometimes he couldn’t see a positive way out. Luckily with you the darkness always seemed a little lighter.

“Mm.” Harry made a noise, sounding really gravely as he awoke.

You could tell he was rousing as his arm tightened around your waist, his fingers splaying out over the skin of your back.

“Harry, love.” You cooed.

“Mhm.” He acknowledged you with no words.

“Good morning.”

“Mhm.”

“Can’t find your words this morning, handsome?” You teased, sneaking your hand from his chest and up to his cheek. You brushed some of his floppy curls out of his eyes and cupped your cheek over his morning stubble.

Harry’s eyes opened then, peering down his body to find your face. His triple chin made you smirk as he looked at you.

He flopped his head back down when he had taken in his surroundings, his arm still holding you close.

“How are you feeling?” You asked.

“Eh.” He grumbled, his morning voice turning you on slightly. What? He sounded too good in a morning not to love on it.

“If only I spoke caveman.” You sighed in jest.

Harry’s chest rapidly moved up and down then as he chuckled.

It felt good to see him smile. Extra bonus points because you were the one that put that smile there.

You untangled yourself from his chest, your hair no doubt looking a mess, and pushed yourself up so you could see Harry better. Not that his chest was an unwanted sight, but you wanted to look at him now to really gauge how he’s feeling.

“No.” Harry whined, his arm clamping around you. He must’ve thought you were leaving him, but that was honestly the last thought on your mind.

You fell down on him slightly, his face burrowing in the comfort of your neck. Harry always said that was his safe place, because he could be physically close to you as well as feeling close to you.

“Ahh so you do know words.”

“Piss off.” He mumbled into your neck, breathing in a deeper breath as you assumed he was trying to smell you. He often claimed you were the best smell in the world - whatever that meant.

You let him stay hidden in your neck.

It allowed you to play with his hair - twisting curls around your fingers.

“Want to do anything today?”

“Like…?”

“I don’t know. Cinema? Walk in the park? Ooh - I need to go buy some more milk, we used it all when we made cookies the other night.”

“Can we go to the shop by Harrow Park?” He asked.

You comfortingly scratched the back of his neck the way he liked. Your nails weren’t even that long, but Harry just loved the feeling. It was something he’d never felt close enough with previous partners to let them do, so it of course made it all the more special for you to do.

“Yeah, sure. We can pop in to Jake’s on the way. He still has our casserole dish.”

“Why’d you give him that?” Harry grumbled - yes he was clearly in a grotty mood today, but you liked being the one to coax him out of it.

“That’s what friends do, H.”

“I bought you that dish.”

“And sharing is caring. Don’t be such a grump.”

“M’sorry.” He sighed, leaving the comfort of your neck to look at you.

His head laid down on the pillow, some of his curls fanning on the pillow beneath him.

You held yourself up so you could perch just above him, allowing you to still caress his neck whilst being held up by his arm.

“You look tired, m’love.” You said.

Harry kept his eyes on yours and you could see the pools of sadness in them from last night. Each time someone said something bad about him, it chipped a little bit away from his soul. It was your job to remind him that he was better than them - that he was stronger than he thought and to not let them win.

“I slept well.” He admitted.

“So did I.” You smiled.

“Couch sleeps are always better than the bed.”

“Yeah?”

“Whenever I’m closest to you, that’s when I sleep best.” He nodded.

“Me too.” You smiled, leaning down to give him the softest of kisses. Sometimes you couldn’t believe you were lucky enough to have him this way.

You pulled back with much regret, but you also loved seeing the dazed look on his face whenever he kissed you. His cheeks always reddened slightly, eyes crinkled with a smile and his nose slightly scrunched.

He clearly didn’t want you parting from him though, because his hand cupped the back of your neck and quickly pulled you back to him for a heartier kiss. He used his hand to pull you fully into him, allowing him to move and kiss you the way he wanted.

He pulled you away slightly, but left you close enough so your noses were softly touching.

“I love you.” He said.

“That’s nice to know.” You dismissed him, trying to lean back down to kiss him but he was quick to stop you.

“Hey, say it back.”

“You know I do.”

“Do what?” He raised an eyebrow in mischief.

You rolled your tongue across your teeth and pretend to look unimpressed, but in reality having him joke around like this was a good thing - it meant he was slowly getting over last nights torment and bringing himself back to the light.

He would argue you that you were the sole reason for that, but he doesn’t give himself enough credit.

You were proud of him for slowly allowing himself to get over those horrible tabloids, which is why you rewarded him.

“I love you too.”

“You do?”

“Pretty sure.” You giggled.

“Mm, I’m pretty sure too.”

[vanishingcherry]

drew and costar!reader’s inside joke

masterlist

the smiley face story from how drew and costar!reader met

It started at a table read when y/n grabbed a pen and drew a small smiley face in the corner of Drew’s script. His eyes caught it, grinning to himself before taking his pen and doing the same to y/n’s script. From then on, the little smiley face was their way of communicating, letting the other know they were thinking of them without even speaking a word.

From coffees and dressing room mirrors to sticky notes and cakes, their smiley faces appeared just about anywhere. Anytime the two of them were together (and even, miraculously, when they weren’t), a smiley face was bound to appear. So, it was only natural for them to commemorate their favorite doodle eternally in the form of ink on skin.

The two of them were sprawled out on the couch on y/n’s apartment balcony, passing a joint back and forth as they chatted. Below them, the sights and sounds of downtown LA brought a soothing atmosphere that served as white noise to their conversation.

“You ever thought about getting a tattoo?” Y/n asked, taking a hit before slowly blowing out the smoke. Her legs were draped in Drew’s lap, his much longer ones propped up on the coffee table as he let out a small chuckle.

“Maybe in college, but not seriously.” Drew said, taking the joint from y/n. His lips wrapped around it, dragging slowly before exhaling and dabbing it out. The lights from the bustling city below cast shadows onto his face that highlighted his sharpened features.

“Hmm.” Y/n simply hummed, tapping her foot in Drew’s lap. He quirked an eyebrow, his gaze shifting over to look at her.

“What’re you thinking about?” Drew asked, his hand fiddling with the hem of her jeans.

“We should get tattoos.” Y/n said simply, straightening up to better look at Drew. He had a smirk on his face, his cheeks flushed from the heat and the joint they’d just smoked.

“Oh yeah, what?” Drew asked playfully, stretching his arms out before resting them behind his head. The sleeves of his t-shirt dipped slightly, exposing the flex of his biceps as he sunk into the couch.

“The smiley, duh.” Y/n giggled, hitting Drew lightly with her foot. Drew chewed on his lip, mulling over it for a moment.

“Sure, why not.” Drew said with a shrug. Y/n sat up even further, an excited grin on her face. Her hands out quickly, cupping the sides of Drew’s face and playfully shaking it side to side with a squeal. Drew tried to keep a straight face but quickly failed, pushing y/n away with a giggle.

“We’re going first thing in the morning and you’re not wimping out Starkey, a’ight?” Y/n quirked her brow before offering her pinky out. With a dramatic sigh and roll of his eyes, Drew hooked his pinky with hers.

Early the next morning (or at least as early as two hungover people could get up), the two of them wandered to the nearby tattoo shop. As soon as they stopped, Drew ran around and opened his door for her. Y/n stepped out with an exaggerated curtsy before they made their way into the shop. After some short introductions with the girl sitting at the front desk, they found themselves sitting in the back.

“Do you want me to go first?” Drew elbowed y/n playfully. Most of the spontaneity and bravery y/n had felt the night before had evaporated, leaving her a nervous mess as she sat in the chair watching the artist prepare.

“Yeah, you should go first.” Y/n said, swallowing harshly as Drew stood. He sat down in the tattoo chair, relaxing into it with a sigh. Y/n watched as Drew propped his arm up, the artist beginning the process on the spot just behind his elbow. Drew’s face screwed up in pain for a moment before slipping into a smile with a giggle, causing y/n to roll her eyes at his playfulness.

“Alright, your turn, ma’m.” Drew said as the artist finished up. He stood from the seat, flexing his arm, before y/n replaced him in front of the artist. Y/n tried her best to relax into the seat, propping her arm up as she felt her heart pounding in her chest. As the artist swiped her arm with alcohol, y/n let out a small yelp.

“You’re alright, you’re alright.” Drew chuckled lightly, scooting his chair closer and offering her his hand. Hoping to at least put on an air of toughness, y/n shook her head, but Drew’s hand remained open to her. The whir of the tattoo gun filled the air, causing y/n to let in a harsh breath before she felt the sharp prickle on her skin. Y/n’s hand quickly shot out, grabbing onto Drew’s hand and squeezing her eyes shut.

As time ticked on, y/n felt herself relaxing under Drew’s gentle touch and encouraging words. Once the artist finished, she slowly opened her eyes.

“You did it.” Drew grinned, squeezing y/n’s hand lightly before helping her out of the chair. Once she made it to her feet, however, she felt her head spin and knees turn to jelly before blackness clouded her vision.

“Y/n, y/nnnnnnn.” Y/n heard as her eyes blinked open, the harsh light causing her to flinch. As her vision cleared, she could see Drew hovering over her, his eyes filled with worry as they frantically searched her face.

“Drew…” y/n groaned, moving to sit up.

“Wait, wait, let me help you.” Drew said, his arms wrapping around her and helping her to sit up on the floor. Y/n ran a hand down her face, giggling a little bit as she looked around her.

“Oh my god that was so embarrassing.” Y/n said, a small grin coming to Drew’s lips, his expression still clouded with worry. Drew handed her a water bottle, to which she took a small sip.

“Come on, drink. Don’t need you passing out on me again.” Drew said, pushing the water bottle towards her again. Y/n continued drinking before handing it back to him. With Drew’s help, y/n rose to her feet. Still wobbly, she leaned harshly into Drew’s chest as his arms quickly wrapped around her. She tried to break from his grasp, attempting to take a step on her own, but Drew’s grip remained firm on her.

“Drew, I’m fine—” y/n said, but Drew had already swept his arm under her knees, sweeping her feet up to hold her bridal style. Y/n let out a small yelp, groaning as a grin spread across Drew’s lips.

“Don’t want you wobbling around like a drunken person.” Drew mumbled as he carried her out the door. Y/n rolled her eyes, eventually succumbing to Drew’s antics as they made it out to the streets of LA, hoping no paparazzi would catch them in their flushed and giggly state.

[vanishingcherry]

christ-max -mv1

summary: you invite your boyfriend max to spend christmas with you for the first time, however, your family doesn't quite believe you're dating a formula 1 world champion. wc: 5.8k

folkie radio: HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL OF YOUUUU! i hope you're having the best day ever with your loves ones. this fic ended up being longer than i intended but i hope you like it!

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

You're nestled into Max's side on his couch, wrapped in the soft throw blanket he keeps specifically for these quiet moments together. The afternoon light filters through the floor-to-ceiling windows of his Monaco apartment, casting a glow across the room. Your feet are tucked under you, and you can smell the lingering scent of the coffee you both made earlier.

The Netflix show you'd put on - some random documentary about deep-sea creatures - has become mere background noise. Max's fingers are threading through your hair in that gentle way that always makes you melt, occasionally stopping to massage your scalp. .

"I can't believe the season's actually over," you murmur, tracing lazy patterns on his arm. "Feels weird not having to plan around race weekends anymore."

Max chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest where your head rests. "Yeah, but now we have to plan around all the end-of-year events instead. Did you see how many galas and ceremonies are coming up?"

"At least those don't involve you flying halfway across the world," you tease, tilting your head to look up at him. His hair is slightly messy, free from its usual styling, and you resist the urge to reach up and run your fingers through it.

"True," he agrees, then glances at his phone on the coffee table. "Speaking of events, I can't believe it's already December. Christmas is going to be here before we know it. Guess time flies when you're busy winning championships."

Your heart skips a beat. This is the opening you've been waiting for. You've been thinking about this for weeks, planning how to bring it up. "Actually… I wanted to ask you something about Christmas," you start, sitting up slightly to face him better.

Max's blue eyes meet yours, curious. "What's on your mind?"

"Well…" you bite your lip, suddenly feeling nervous despite knowing there's no reason to be. "I was wondering if you'd want to spend Christmas with me and my family this year? I know we've kept things private, but I really want them to meet you, and-"

"Wait, really?" Max interrupts, his whole face lighting up with that boyish excitement that made you fall for him in the first place. "You want me to meet your family?"

You can't help but smile at his enthusiasm. "Of course I do. We've been together almost a year now, and they keep asking why I'm always smiling at my phone." You playfully poke his side. "Which is your fault, by the way."

He catches your hand, intertwining your fingers. "My fault? I'm just being my naturally charming self," he grins, then his expression turns slightly more serious. "But are you sure? I mean, won't they be surprised when you show up with, well…"

"With a four-time World Champion?" you finish for him, laughing. "Actually, my dad might pass out. He's been watching F1 since before I was born. He has no idea I've been dating his favorite driver."

Max's eyebrows shoot up. "I'm his favorite driver?"

"Don't let it go to your head," you warn playfully. "But yeah, he's got your merchandise and everything. It's actually kind of embarrassing how much he talks about you during race weekends."

Max throws his head back laughing, and you can't help but join in. "Oh God, this is going to be interesting," he says, wiping at his eyes. "What about the rest of your family?"

"Well, Mom will probably try to feed you until you burst - she's like that with everyone. And my little sister Ruby, she's seven and she's going to have so many questions. She's in that phase where she wants to know everything about everything."

"I can handle questions," Max says confidently, then hesitates. "What kind of questions are we talking about?"

You pretend to think about it. "Oh, you know, probably things like 'How fast have you ever driven?' 'Have you ever crashed?' 'Do you want to marry my sister?'"

Max nearly chokes on air at the last one, his cheeks turning slightly pink. "You're joking, right?"

"About Ruby? Nope, she has absolutely no filter," you laugh, then soften your voice. "But seriously, they're going to love you. Just be yourself - the you I know, not the racing driver everyone else sees."

He pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I'd love to spend Christmas with your family. I can't wait to meet them." He pauses, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Should I wear my race suit when I meet your dad?"

You swat his arm, laughing. "Don't you dare! He'll actually faint." You settle back against his chest, feeling warm and content. "Thank you for saying yes. It means a lot to me."

"Thank you for asking me," he murmurs into your hair. "I love you."

"I love you too," you respond, smiling as his arms tighten around you. The documentary continues playing, forgotten again as you both start planning for Christmas, trading ideas and jokes about how to break the news to your family.

You're sitting cross-legged on Max's bed while he's in the shower, your phone propped up against a pillow as you FaceTime your family. Your mom's face fills most of the screen, with your dad peering over her shoulder and little Ruby bouncing around trying to get a better view.

"Honey, we can barely see you. The lighting is terrible," your mom critiques, and you adjust your position slightly.

"Better?"

"Much better! Now, what's this important thing you wanted to tell us about Christmas?" Your mom asks, while Ruby shouts "Is it presents?" in the background.

You take a deep breath, trying to contain your smile. "Well, I wanted to let you know that I'm bringing someone with me this year… my boyfriend."

There's an immediate explosion of excitement. Ruby starts jumping up and down, your mom gasps dramatically, and your dad's eyebrows shoot up with interest.

"Finally!" your mom exclaims. "We've been wondering when you'd introduce him. You've been so secretive about this boyfriend of yours."

"What's his name?" Ruby pipes up, her face suddenly taking up half the screen as she pushes closer to the camera. "Is he nice? Does he like Disney movies?"

You laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Yes, Rubes, he's very nice. And his name is…" you pause, knowing what's coming. "Max. Max Verstappen."

There's a moment of silence before your dad bursts out laughing. "Good one, sweetheart. Now, what's his real name?"

"I'm serious, Dad. I'm dating Max Verstappen."

Your mom is trying to hold back her laughter now too. "Honey, isn't that the racing driver you and your father are always watching? The one your dad has all those caps and shirts of?"

"Yes, and I'm actually dating him," you insist, feeling your cheeks heat up.

Ruby's face scrunches up in confusion. "The fast car man? From TV?"

"The very same one, Rubes."

Your dad wipes tears from his eyes. "Come on now, what's next? Are you going to tell us you're best friends with Lewis Hamilton too?"

"Dad!" you groan, running a hand over your face. "I'm being serious! We've been dating for almost a year. I'm literally at his place right now!"

"In Monaco?" your dad asks skeptically. "Prove it."

You swing your phone around to show the familiar view of Monaco through the windows, but your dad just shakes his head. "Could be any apartment in Monaco."

"You're impossible!" you huff. "Fine, don't believe me. You'll see at Christmas."

Ruby presses her face closer to the screen again. "Will he bring his race car?"

"No, Rubes, he can't bring the race car," you say, softening your tone for your little sister. "But I promise you'll love him."

After a few more minutes of your family teasing you about your "imaginary Formula 1 driver boyfriend," you end the call with a mix of frustration and amusement. Just as you flop back onto the bed, you hear the bathroom door open and Max walks out, his hair still damp from the shower.

"How'd it go?" he asks, noticing your expression.

You let out a laugh. "They think I'm making you up. They literally don't believe I'm dating you."

Max raises his eyebrows, looking amused as he sits next to you on the bed. "Really?"

"Really. Dad laughed so hard he nearly cried. And Ruby, my little sister, just wants to know if you're bringing your race car for Christmas."

"Sorry to disappoint Ruby," he grins, then looks thoughtful. "You know, maybe we should've waited to tell them in person. The looks on their faces would've been priceless."

"Oh, don't worry," you sit up, wrapping your arms around his neck. "They'll still be priceless. Dad's going to lose it when he realizes all those times he was rambling about you during races, he was actually talking about his daughter's boyfriend."

Max laughs, pulling you closer. "What else should I know before meeting them?"

"Well, Ruby's seven and obsessed with Frozen. She'll definitely make you watch it and probably sing along too."

"I can handle that," he says confidently.

"And recite all the lines?"

"…Maybe not that."

"And act out the scenes with her?"

Max's eyes widen slightly. "What have I gotten myself into?"

You kiss his cheek. "Too late to back out now, Verstappen. You're stuck with us."

"Wouldn't have it any other way," he murmurs, pulling you in for a proper kiss. "Even if it means playing Olaf the snowman."

"Oh no, you'll definitely be playing Elsa. Ruby's very particular about casting."

The look of horror on his face makes you burst out laughing, and soon he's joining in too. As your laughter dies down, you can't help but think about how perfect this feels - being here with him, planning to spend Christmas with your family, even if they don't believe you yet. You can't wait to see their faces when you show up at their door with Max Verstappen himself.

"Hey," Max says softly, breaking into your thoughts. "What are you smiling about?"

"Just thinking about how Christmas is going to be interesting this year."

"Interesting is one way to put it," he grins. "Should I wear my race suit when we arrive?"

"Don't you dare! Dad will actually faint."

"That's kind of the point," he winks, and you grab a pillow to hit him with, both of you dissolving into laughter again.

"Let me guess, another text from 'Max Verstappen'?" your dad teases from his spot at the kitchen counter, making air quotes with his fingers. He's wearing one of his many Red Bull Racing shirts, completely oblivious to the irony.

"Actually, yes," you reply, rolling your eyes. "He'll be here soon."

Your mom chuckles while peeling potatoes. "Honey, you can just tell us who your boyfriend really is. We won't judge, even if he's not a Formula 1 champion."

"Mom, I've told you a million times-"

"LOOK!" Ruby crashes into the kitchen, pointing at the TV in the living room where they're showing highlights from the last race. "It's YN's boyfriend!" She dissolves into giggles, clearly in on what she thinks is a funny joke.

"Very funny, Rubes," you mutter, but check your phone again when it buzzes.

Max: "Just turned onto your street. Nice neighborhood 😉"

Your heart starts beating faster. "He's here," you announce, heading toward the front door.

"Oh, we're still doing this?" your dad calls after you, amused. "Should I get my Max Verstappen cap for him to sign?"

"Actually, Dad, yes, you should," you shout back, slipping on your boots.

"Sweetie," your mom starts in that gentle voice she uses when she thinks you're being ridiculous, "you don't have to-"

The sound of a car pulling up interrupts her. You open the front door and step out onto the porch, watching as Max's car comes to a stop in your driveway. Your family has crowded behind you in the doorway, probably expecting to catch you in your "lie."

Max steps out of the car, looking unfairly handsome in his dark winter coat and scarf. His face lights up when he sees you, and you don't hesitate to run down the steps toward him.

"Hi," he grins, catching you in a tight hug and lifting you slightly off your feet. "Missed you."

You hear a loud gasp behind you, followed by what sounds like your dad choking on air.

"Missed you too," you murmur against his chest before turning to face your family, keeping one arm wrapped around his waist.

The scene on your front porch is priceless. Your dad's mouth is hanging open, his face pale except for two bright red spots on his cheeks. Your mom has both hands pressed to her face in shock. Ruby is the only one moving, bouncing up and down with excitement.

"IT REALLY IS THE FAST CAR MAN!" she shrieks, breaking the silence as she barrels down the steps toward you both.

Max laughs, crouching down to her level. "Hi Ruby. Nice to finally meet you. Your sister has told me a lot about you."

"You're real!" she exclaims, poking his arm as if to make sure.

"Very real," he confirms, looking thoroughly amused.

"I… you… but…" your dad stammers, still frozen in the doorway.

"Hi, Mr. and Mrs. LN," Max says, standing back up and guiding you and Ruby toward the porch. "Thank you for having me for Christmas."

Your mom seems to snap out of her shock first. "Oh my goodness, please come in! It's freezing out here. I… oh dear… the potatoes… I should… more food… I need to…"

"Mom, breathe," you laugh, as Max follows you inside.

Your dad hasn't moved an inch, still staring at Max like he's seeing a ghost. "You're… you're actually… the Brazil overtake…"

"Dad, no F1 talk yet!" you warn. "Let him at least get his coat off first."

"Right! Yes! Coat!" your dad says frantically. "I'll take your coat! And then maybe… could you… would you mind signing my…"

"Collection?" you finish for him, smirking. "The one you thought I was making up?"

Max raises his eyebrows at you, remembering your conversation about your dad's merchandise collection.

Ruby tugs on Max's hand. "Do you want to see my Frozen dolls? And can we watch the movie? Sissy said you've never seen it!"

"Ruby, let him settle in first," your mom calls from the kitchen, where she appears to be panic-cooking. "Oh God, is the food good enough? Do Formula 1 drivers have special diets? Should I-"

"Mom, the food will be perfect," you assure her, then turn to Max. "See? I told you they'd be cool about it."

Max tries to suppress his laugh as your dad continues to stare at him in awe, your mom stress-cooks enough food to feed an army, and Ruby continues pulling on his hand.

"Very cool," he agrees, pressing a kiss to your temple. "Though I think your dad might need to sit down."

"I'm fine!" your dad squeaks, then immediately sits down heavily on the nearest chair. "Just… just give me a minute to process that my daughter is actually dating Max Verstappen and I've been accidentally talking about my future son-in-law during every race and-"

"DAD!" you exclaim, feeling your face heat up while Max chuckles beside you.

"What? I'm just saying… all those times I said 'that Verstappen boy would make someone a good husband someday' and it turns out-"

"Okay!" you interrupt loudly. "Who wants coffee? Max, come help me with coffee!"

As you drag a laughing Max toward the kitchen, you hear Ruby start explaining the entire plot of Frozen to him, your mom muttering about needing to buy more food, and your dad still talking to himself about racing statistics.

"Still think this was a good idea?" you whisper to Max.

He pulls you closer, grinning. "The best. Though you might want to tell your dad to breathe before he passes out."

"Can we build a snowman after coffee?" Ruby calls out.

"Only if Max gets to be Elsa!" you shout back, earning you a playful glare from your boyfriend.

Looking around at your slightly chaotic but loving family, and seeing how naturally Max fits into it all, you can't help but smile. This is definitely going to be a Christmas to remember.

The initial chaos has settled into a cozy scene in your living room. You're curled up on the couch next to Max, who has Ruby practically attached to his side. She hasn't stopped talking since everyone sat down, and Max, to his credit, is giving her his complete attention.

"And then Elsa makes this huge ice castle," Ruby explains, using elaborate hand gestures. "Can you drive as fast as Elsa runs up the mountain?"

"Probably faster," Max answers with a grin, making Ruby's eyes widen.

"Even in the snow?"

"Even in the snow."

Your dad, who's finally regained his ability to form complete sentences, sits in his armchair trying very hard not to bombard Max with racing questions. He keeps opening his mouth, then closing it again when you give him a warning look.

"It's okay, Dad," you laugh. "You can ask him one race question. Just one."

Your dad looks like he might cry from happiness. "The overtake in Brazil-"

"Which one?" Max asks with a playful smirk, and your dad launches into an enthusiastic discussion about racing lines and grip levels.

Your mom returns from the kitchen with a tray of hot chocolate and cookies, having finally accepted that she doesn't need to cook enough food for an entire F1 paddock. "Here we go. I hope it's okay, Max. YN mentioned you like hot chocolate."

"It's perfect, thank you," Max says warmly, accepting a mug.

Ruby immediately reaches for a cookie, then pauses. "Do race car drivers eat cookies?"

"Only the fast ones," Max whispers conspiratorially, making her giggle.

"Ruby, give Max some space to breathe," your mom says gently, noticing how your sister is practically in his lap.

"It's fine," Max assures her. "I have nephews. I'm used to it."

Ruby beams at this information. "Really? Do they like Frozen too?"

"I don't know, but I'm sure they'd love to hear your explanation of it," he says, and Ruby launches into another detailed plot summary.

You catch your mom watching the interaction with soft eyes, all her earlier panic forgotten. She meets your gaze and mouths 'He's wonderful' when Ruby isn't looking.

Your dad has moved on from Brazil to discussing tire strategies, but stops himself mid-sentence. "Sorry, I'm probably boring you. You live this stuff."

"Not at all," Max says sincerely. "It's nice talking about it with someone who understands racing. YN usually just tells me to stop being a nerd when I talk about tire compounds."

"Because you spent two hours explaining the difference between C3 and C4 compounds!" you defend yourself.

"It's fascinating stuff," your dad says eagerly, and Max nods in agreement.

"Oh no, there's two of them now," you mutter to your mom, who laughs.

Ruby tugs on Max's sleeve. "Can we watch Frozen now? Please? You promised!"

"Ruby, let Max rest a bit," your mom starts, but Max shakes his head.

"A promise is a promise," he says solemnly to Ruby. "Should we watch it now?"

Ruby squeals with delight, jumping up to get the remote. Your dad looks slightly disappointed that his racing talk is being cut short, but you can see him hiding a smile at Ruby's excitement.

"Fair warning," you whisper to Max as Ruby sets up the movie, "she knows every word. And she will sing along."

"As long as she doesn't expect me to sing," he whispers back.

"MAX!" Ruby calls, patting the spot next to her on the floor where she's arranged pillows. "You have to sit here! It's the best spot!"

Max obliges, settling down next to her while you stay on the couch, exchanging amused looks with your parents as Ruby starts the movie, already mouthing along to the opening music.

Your mom leans over to you. "I'm sorry we didn't believe you," she whispers. "He's lovely. And so good with Ruby."

"I told you," you whisper back, watching as Ruby explains to Max why Elsa has ice powers.

Your dad joins in the whispered conversation. "Think he'd sign my mug collection later?"

"Dad!"

"What? I'm just saying, Christmas cards would be sorted for the next few years…"

You're about to respond when Ruby shushes you all loudly. "This is the best part!"

Max catches your eye and winks, clearly enjoying himself despite being roped into a Disney movie viewing with a very enthusiastic seven-year-old commentator. Your heart swells watching him with your family, how naturally he fits in, how gentle he is with Ruby.

"Do you want to build a snowman?" Ruby starts singing along with the movie.

"Later, Rubes," you promise. "Let's watch the movie first."

She nods seriously, then turns to Max. "Pay attention to this part. It's very important."

"I won't miss a second," he promises, and Ruby beams at him before turning back to the screen.

Your mom reaches over and squeezes your hand, giving you a knowing look. Even your dad has stopped thinking about racing long enough to appreciate the moment – his youngest daughter sharing her favorite movie with your boyfriend, who happens to be the F1 driver he's been fan-boying over for years.

It's perfect, you think, watching your family and Max together. Different from how you imagined telling them, but perfect nonetheless.

"Shh!" Ruby whispers loudly. "Elsa is about to sing Let It Go!"

Max shoots you a slightly panicked look as Ruby starts to stand up, clearly ready to perform the whole number. You just grin and shrug. After all, you did warn him about the singing.

Later that evening, you finally manage to steal a moment alone with Max. Ruby had fallen asleep during the third replay of Frozen, and your parents took her up to bed before retreating to the kitchen to finish some Christmas preparations.

You find Max on the back porch, leaning against the railing and looking up at the stars. The winter air is crisp, and you can see his breath forming little clouds in the darkness. Quietly, you step out and wrap your arms around him from behind, pressing your cheek against his back.

"Hey," he says softly, turning in your arms to face you. His hands find their way to your waist, pulling you closer. "Needed a little break from being Elsa?"

You laugh quietly, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from his forehead. "You were amazing with Ruby today. I think you're officially her new favorite person."

"She's a sweet kid," he smiles, then adds with a playful glint in his eyes, "Though I didn't expect to watch Frozen two times in one day."

"Just wait until tomorrow. She'll probably want to act it out."

He groans dramatically, but you can see the fondness in his expression. "The things I do for you."

"Mmm, and I appreciate every one of them," you murmur, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him softly.

Max responds immediately, one hand moving to cup your face while the other pulls you even closer. The kiss is gentle and unhurried, full of unspoken emotions. When you finally pull back, he rests his forehead against yours.

"Thank you," you whisper.

"For what?"

"For being so perfect with my family. For watching Frozen multiple times. For not running away when my dad started his racing commentary."

He chuckles, the sound rumbling in his chest. "I like your family. Your dad's racing knowledge is impressive, your mom's trying very hard not to mother me to death, and Ruby…" he pauses, smiling. "Ruby reminds me of Victoria at that age."

You snuggle closer, seeking his warmth in the cold air. "I was so nervous about telling them, and then even more nervous when they didn't believe me. But this… this is better than I imagined."

"Even with your dad asking me to sign his entire Red Bull merchandise collection?"

"Hey, at least he waited until after dinner," you laugh. "Though I'm pretty sure he's in there right now planning which items to bring out first."

Max wraps his arms more securely around you, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I love you," he says quietly, and your heart skips a beat like it does every time he says those words.

"I love you too," you reply, tilting your face up for another kiss.

This one is deeper, more passionate, until you hear the back door creak and quickly step apart.

"Oh!" your mom exclaims, looking flustered. "Sorry, I just… wanted to ask about breakfast preferences… but it can wait… carry on!"

She disappears back inside, and you both burst into quiet laughter.

"We should probably go back in," you sigh, though you make no move to leave his embrace.

"Probably," he agrees, but instead of letting go, he pulls you back for one more kiss. "Five more minutes?"

You smile against his lips. "Five more minutes."

In the quiet of Christmas eve, wrapped in each other's arms, you can't help but think how perfectly he fits into your life, into your family, into your heart. Tomorrow there'll be more Frozen, more racing talk, more of Ruby's endless questions, but right now, it's just the two of you, and it's everything.

The winter sun is just beginning to peek through the curtains of your childhood bedroom, casting a soft golden glow across the room. You're wrapped in warmth, nestled against Max's chest with his arm draped around your waist. His steady breathing tells you he's awake before he even moves.

"Good morning," he murmurs against your neck, his voice still rough with sleep. His lips brush against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

"Morning," you whisper back, feeling his hand slowly slide beneath your sleep shirt, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin.

"Sleep well?" he asks innocently, but his actions are anything but innocent as he presses closer, leaving a trail of kisses from your shoulder to your ear.

"Max," you breathe, caught between wanting to lean into his touch and knowing you should stop. "We can't… my parents…"

"Then we'll have to be very, very quiet," he whispers, nipping at your earlobe. His hand travels higher under your shirt, making your breath hitch.

You turn in his arms, ready to either give in or properly protest - though the way he's looking at you, eyes dark with desire and that signature smirk playing on his lips, makes you lean heavily toward the former.

"You're trouble," you murmur, reaching up to run your fingers through his disheveled hair.

He leans down to capture your lips in a heated kiss. "You love it."

Just as his hand starts to wander again, a voice pierces through the quiet morning:

"IT'S CHRISTMAAAAS!" Ruby's excited scream echoes through the entire house, followed by the thundering of small feet running down the hallway. "WAKE UP! WAKE UP! SANTA CAME!"

Max drops his forehead to your shoulder with a frustrated groan. "Your sister has impeccable timing."

"Welcome to Christmas with Ruby," you laugh, pressing a consoling kiss to his cheek. "I tried to warn you."

"YN! MAX!" Ruby's fists pound on your door. "GET UP! There are presents EVERYWHERE! And it SNOWED!"

"Five more minutes, Rubes!" you call back.

"NO MINUTES! NOW!" she insists, continuing to knock. "Mom said breakfast is ready and Dad made hot chocolate and I SAW A HUGE PRESENT WITH MY NAME ON IT!"

Max chuckles against your shoulder. "I suppose we should…"

"PLEASE!" Ruby calls again. "I promise I'll let you drink your coffee first!"

"That's quite the offer from her," you tell Max. "She usually doesn't allow any delays on Christmas morning."

"We're coming, Ruby!" Max calls out, sitting up and running a hand through his hair. "Give us two minutes to get dressed."

"TWO MINUTES! I'm counting!"

You can hear her dramatically counting down in the hallway, making Max laugh. "She's serious about this, isn't she?"

"Oh, you have no idea."

The living room is a festival of color and chaos when you finally make it downstairs. Ruby's bouncing by the tree in her Christmas pajamas, while your parents are settled on the couch with steaming mugs of coffee.

"Finally!" Ruby exclaims. "I counted way past two minutes!"

"Sorry, princess," Max says, accepting a coffee mug from your mom. "But I'm here now."

"Max, sweetheart, you really didn't have to get us anything," your mom says, noticing the pile of presents he'd arranged under the tree last night.

"Of course I did," he replies warmly. "It's Christmas."

Ruby's practically vibrating with excitement as your dad starts distributing gifts. "Can I open mine from Max first? Please?"

At your nod, she tears into the elaborate wrapping paper, gasping when she reveals a beautiful wooden chest with golden details. "It's like a treasure chest!"

"Open it," Max encourages, smiling.

Ruby lifts the lid carefully, her eyes widening. Inside is a complete collection of princess dresses, each one a perfect replica from different Disney movies, along with matching accessories and a tiara for each one.

"The chest is magical," Max explains, kneeling beside her. "Every time you open it, there might be a new surprise inside. And look at this…" He reaches in and pulls out a small envelope.

Ruby opens it to find a letter with the Disney castle letterhead. "Dear Princess Ruby," she reads aloud, her voice getting more excited with each word. "You are cordially invited to spend a royal weekend at Disney World, where you will have a private breakfast with all the Disney princesses…"

She doesn't even finish reading before launching herself at Max, nearly knocking him over. "Thank you thank you thank you! Can I try on the Elsa dress right now?"

"After presents," your mom laughs. "Let's see what else Santa brought."

Your dad opens his gift next, finding an envelope that makes him pause. "Son," he says, voice thick with emotion as he reads the contents. "This is…"

"VIP passes to the British Grand Prix," Max confirms. "Including garage access, grid walk, everything."

Your dad has to sit down, clutching the passes like they might disappear. "This is… I can't…"

"And this," Max hands him another package, "is just a little something extra."

Inside is a vintage racing jacket from your dad's favorite driver from the 80s, signed and authenticated. Your dad actually tears up.

Your mom opens her gift next, despite protesting again that Max shouldn't have gotten them anything. She unwraps a beautiful pair of earrings.

"Oh, Max," she whispers, "This is beautiful."

Ruby, who has been surprisingly patient, tugs at Max's sleeve. "Can we do my princess breakfast now?"

"After we finish presents," you laugh. "And maybe we should have real breakfast first?"

"But I'm a princess now," she declares. "Princesses have special breakfast times."

Your mom shakes her head fondly. "How about pancakes fit for a princess?"

"With chocolate chips?" Ruby negotiates.

"With chocolate chips," your mom confirms. "Max, honey, how do you like your pancakes?"

"However they're made is perfect," he assures her, but your mom is already heading to the kitchen, muttering about making sure she has enough chocolate chips.

Your dad finally finds his voice again. "Max, this is too much…"

"It's not," Max says firmly. "You're… you're family now. Or at least, I hope…"

He glances at you meaningfully, making your heart skip a beat.

Later, after pancakes and multiple princess dress changes from Ruby, you manage to steal some time alone with Max in your favorite spot on the back porch. The morning sun has warmed the air slightly, but there's still a crisp winter chill that gives you an excuse to stay close to him.

"Your turn," Max says softly, pulling out a small wrapped box from his pocket.

Your hands tremble slightly as you unwrap it, revealing a velvet jewelry box. Inside is a delicate silver necklace with two intertwined pendants - a heart and a tiny racing helmet.

"Max," you breathe, touching the pendants gently. "It's beautiful."

"Look at the back," he says quietly, his voice carrying a note of nervousness you rarely hear.

You turn the heart over to find an engraving: "You're my biggest victory. -MV"

"I love you," you whisper, pulling him down for a kiss. His arms wrap around you, holding you close as if you're the most precious thing in his world.

When you finally part, you hand him your gift - a wrapped box that makes him raise his eyebrows at the weight.

Inside, he finds a handmade scrapbook filled with your personal moments - sneaky paddock kisses, quiet mornings at home, victory celebrations, and candid moments no one else has seen. The final page holds a photo from yesterday - Max on the floor with Ruby, both laughing during their third viewing of Frozen.

"This is…" he starts, voice thick with emotion.

"Wait," you say softly, reaching into your pocket. You pull out a key on a simple keychain. "I thought… maybe… if you wanted…"

"Move in with you?" he finishes, breaking into that brilliant smile that never fails to make your heart race. "Yes. Absolutely yes."

He pulls you into another kiss, deeper this time, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other holds the key carefully.

"MAX!" Ruby's voice carries from inside. "I need help with my Cinderella shoes! And then we have to build a snowman! A FROZEN snowman!"

You both laugh against each other's lips.

"Duty calls, Elsa," you tease.

"Only if you'll be my Olaf," he grins, pressing one more quick kiss to your lips.

"Always," you promise, letting him lead you back inside where Ruby waits, already changed into her third princess dress of the morning.

Your dad catches your eye as you pass, "If you don't marry this boy," he whispers, "I will."

"Dad!"

"I'm just saying," he shrugs, then heads outside to join the snowman-building committee.

Your mom appears at your other side, wrapping an arm around you. "He's right, you know. He's perfect for you."

You lean your head on her shoulder, watching Max let Ruby direct him on where to place the snowman's arms. "I know," you smile. "I know."

"Best Christmas ever?" she asks softly.

Looking at your family, and Max in the middle of it all, belonging there like he's always been part of it - you smile.

"Best Christmas ever," you agree.

[vanishingcherry]

Hi! I just found out about your blog (aka the best decision ever) and I literally fell in love. So my ask is (whenever you're taking requests btw) a peter parker x reader where the reader's doing the simplest of things and peters just, heart eyes. Thanks a bunch sweets <3333 xoxo

a/n: this is super short, but exactly what i needed to write on a terrible horrible stressful day

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist

“Alright, spidey-boy,” curled up in the crook of the sofa, you opened up the food delivery app on your phone, “what do you want for lunch? What do you want?” you repeated with rhythmic goofiness. Eyes ever glued to the screen before your nose and not the man lounging at the other end of the couch, you rocked gently as you scrolled through the options, “what do you want, my baby Peter? Oh!” your eyes then went wide in a slightly childlike manner at the idea your wordplay had suddenly conjured, “Peter, pita! What about that, huh? A little falafel action?” you finally glanced up to catch his eye, fishing for an answer, but not finding the one you sought. Like warm afternoon sun streaming through the windows, a soft and adoring smile crinkled up Peter’s eyes as he simply stared at you, “what?”

“Nothing,” his head shook gently from side to side as his loving gaze continued to pierce your soul, “falafel sounds great.”

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[vanishingcherry]

𝐏𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞-𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐅𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲

𝐓𝐎𝐌 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃!𝐓𝐎𝐌 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 |

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 - Tom reluctantly lets Delphini cuddle with him, pretending to be inconvenienced but clearly enjoying the moment. Y/N snaps a photo despite his protests.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 - Literally came up with this on my drive home from work.

𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐃 - @bernardsbendystraws

The front door clicked shut, and soft footsteps echoed through the manor. Delphini appeared in the doorway, her hair slightly mussed from the cold breeze outside.

"Hello, my little dove," Tom greeted from his armchair, not even looking up from the ancient tome in his hands.

Delphini didn’t reply. Instead, she crossed the room in a few quick strides and dropped onto his lap, curling into his chest.

Tom stiffened slightly, his dark eyes flickering down to his daughter, who was now clutching his robes. He let out a theatrical sigh. "Delphini..."

"Shhh," she muttered, burying her face against him.

Though he feigned irritation, Tom let his arm drape loosely around her shoulders. "You’re unbearable," he muttered, but the faint twitch of his lips betrayed the affection he couldn’t quite hide.

"You love me," Delphini shot back, a grin evident in her tone.

Y/N entered the room moments later, stopping in her tracks at the sight of her husband cuddling their daughter. Her eyebrows lifted in surprise—Tom Riddle wasn’t exactly known for his displays of affection. But there he was, with Delphini nestled against him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Tom’s head snapped up, his posture stiffening as he noticed Y/N. "Darling, do you need—?"

Before he could finish, Delphini clung tighter to him, letting out the smallest of whimpers. "Don’t move, Dad."

Y/N couldn’t help the wide grin that spread across her face. "Oh, don’t mind me," she said sweetly, pulling her phone from her pocket.

Tom frowned instantly. "No."

Delphini, however, perked up at the sight of the phone. "Wait! Let me pose!" She sat up straighter, kissing Tom’s cheek with an exaggerated smooch.

Tom groaned, leaning his head back as though enduring a great trial. "I do not consent to this nonsense."

Y/N laughed as she snapped a photo, her grin widening as Delphini threw up a peace sign and grinned beside her father.

At that moment, Mattheo walked into the room, pausing mid-step as he took in the scene. He blinked, then smirked. "Wow, Dad. Didn’t know you were so cuddly."

Tom's jaw tightened, his grip on Delphini loosening slightly as he prepared to put an end to the entire ordeal.

But Y/N raised an eyebrow at him. "Don’t you dare," she said with a teasing yet firm tone.

Tom hesitated, his dark gaze flicking between his wife and son, before Delphini tugged on his sleeve. "Ignore him, Dad. He’s just jealous."

"Jealous?!" Mattheo snorted, flopping onto the couch beside them. "Of that?"

Y/N pointed her phone at Mattheo, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Since you’re here, why don’t you join in? Sit next to your father so I can get the perfect family photo."

Tom straightened, looking positively scandalized. "Absolutely not."

"Absolutely yes," Y/N countered, her tone brooking no argument.

Mattheo’s smirk widened. "This is gold. Mum’s bossing you around, and you’re letting her."

Tom glared at his son but, under Y/N’s watchful eye, sighed in defeat. "You will pay for this," he muttered, mostly to himself, as he reluctantly extended his other arm to pull Mattheo closer.

Mattheo tried not to laugh as he leaned into his father’s shoulder. "Wow, this is cozy. I feel so loved."

Tom muttered something incomprehensible, his lips twitching in an almost-smile.

Y/N held up her phone, grinning from ear to ear. "Perfect. Now, hold still—"

"Y/N—"

"Tom," she interrupted, her voice sweet but firm.

He groaned but complied, pulling both children closer. Delphini cuddled into him happily, while Mattheo dramatically leaned his head against Tom’s arm.

Y/N snapped the photo, then lowered her phone, looking at them fondly. "See? That wasn’t so bad."

Tom gave her a long-suffering look but said nothing. Delphini giggled, pressing another kiss to his cheek, and Mattheo chuckled, poking fun.

"Father of the year," Mattheo teased.

Tom narrowed his eyes at him. "Keep talking, and you’ll spend the evening as a ferret."

Mattheo smirked. "Worth it."

Y/N laughed, walking over to kiss Tom’s forehead. "Thank you for humoring me."

Tom sighed, his arms still around his children. "You owe me for this."

"And you secretly love it," she whispered back, kissing his cheek.

His lips quirked into a small smile. "Perhaps."

[vanishingcherry]

surprise!

drew starkey x fem!singer!reader

summary: ever since the reader started blowing up, all the interviews and promotions that would ask her who her celebrity crush is, she always had the same answer. so when Jimmy Fallon invites her on his show, he might have a surprise in store…

warnings: fluff!! second hand embarrassment, reader gushes about Drew, she’s just a fangirl at heart

‘perfume’ by del water gap mentioned <3

part two

2020

“Who’s your celebrity crush?”

“Drew Starkey, he plays Rafe in Outer Banks.”

“Do you have a celebrity crush?

“Yeah, Drew Starkey from Outer Banks.”

“Are there any people you would hope to collab with or meet?”

“Definitely Drew Starkey from Outer Banks.”

2021

“Last year you said multiple times Drew Starkey is your celebrity crush, is this still true?”

“Yeah, he’s still my main one.”

“Are there any guys you’re interested in?”

“My dream guy is Drew Starkey, if that’s what you mean.”

“What’s your type in a man?”

“Umm… probably Drew Starkey.”

2022

“Update us on all the boy drama! Anyone interesting?”

“Just waiting for Drew Starkey.”

“You look stunning! Are you here with anyone tonight?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Your crush around Drew Starkey, is that still a thing?”

“It still is… have you seen his new movie ‘Hellraiser’?”

2023

“Your new EP just released, are any of the songs about Drew Starkey?”

“Not on this one, no. Maybe the next one.”

“Are you seeing anyone? Has Drew Starkey called?”

“No, not yet. Maybe next year.”

“Have you seen season three of ‘Outer Banks’ yet?”

“Yes, oh my god! Drew looked so good.”

2024

“Your new song ‘Perfume’ is an absolute hit! Is it about Drew Starkey?”

“Omg, no, but it should’ve been.”

“You’ve quickly risen to fame! Has Drew Starkey noticed you yet?”

“Unfortunately, no. He’s probably hiding.”

Ever since your career started, in every single interview you get the question regarding celebrity crushes, the answer was always the same.

Drew Starkey.

It became a known meme revolving you and your fans, along with the media. Practically every interview just loved to teased you about your known celebrity crush.

Your popularity rose more in 2023 to 2024, so, when Jimmy Fallon reached out to you to have you on his show, your agency immediately agreed.

Standing behind the curtain wearing a tight brown suit, the pants wide-leg. Black boots were your choice of footwear, your makeup done perfectly to match the outfit.

“Ladies and gentlemen, bring your hands together for Y/n L/n!”

When Jimmy announced your name, you came out from behind the curtain, a big smile on your face as you waved to the audience.

Shaking hands and hugging some of the crew members before you finally hugged Jimmy, settling down in the blue chair.

“How are you doing tonight?” Jimmy asks with a warm smile.

“I’m doing good! Pretty nervous to be honest, this is my first talkshow.” You answered sincerely.

The audience clapped and Jimmy sunk back in his seat a little more.

“Well, I’m glad to be your first one! So, your new song ‘Perfume’ recently came out, congratulations on 200 million streams.”

“Thank you so much, really.” Your hands were shaking as you fidgeted with the brown fabric on your knee, one leg crossed over the other.

“So, you’ve been singing since 2020?” Jimmy asks.

“Yeah, I started posting videos on Tik Tok but my career really took off at the end of 2023 and now here we are.” You smile, the whole experience still so surreal.

“Your voice is phenomenal, seriously. I’ll need to have you come back and sing on the show for us.” Jimmy says, causing the audience to erupt into cheers.

You laughed a little, nodding your head. “Of course, anytime.”

Jimmy continued to talk to you for a few more minutes about your career, the conversation flowing smoothly as you cracked some nervous jokes.

“So, I have to ask, Y/n. Since your career began you’ve said your celebrity crush is Drew Starkey, can you tell us more about this?”

You felt your face get a little warm as you shifted in your seat, an anxious smile on your lips.

“I dunno, I guess I’ve just always found him attractive. He’s insanely talented and just seems like a very genuine soul.” You say sheepishly, avoiding looking at the camera.

“He’s also becoming more and more popular right now, with season four of ‘Outer Banks’ that came out in October and November along with his new movie ‘Queer’.” Jimmy adds on.

“Yeah, I’m a pretty big fan so I’ve been following along with it. I’m very proud of him, in like a supportive-fan way.” You say, making the audience laugh at the last part.

You were completely oblivious to Jimmy looking behind you, motioning with his hand underneath his desk.

“So it’s not just his looks?” Jimmy teases.

“I mean, he’s a very beautiful man. He looks good with any haircut especially that mullet he had last year — and oh my god, he just looked so good in season four of ‘Outer Banks.’ Plus he has these big biceps that just bulge out of any shirt.”

You hadn’t even realized you were gushing over your celebrity crush until you finally caught yourself, hearing the audience laughing.

“Oh, gosh. You are really into him, huh?” Jimmy teases.

“What would you do if he was standing right behind you?” The host asks.

If you weren’t so nervous from being on a national talkshow you probably would’ve understood his message.

But your brain caused you to miss it, being as oblivious as ever.

“Probably pass out.” You answered, hearing the audience giggle more. Jimmy had an amused grin on his face.

“Please don’t pass out.”

Your posture immediately straightened, body tense as you stood up from the seat.

Turning around, your heart dropped to your stomach when you saw Drew fucking Starkey standing there.

The audience’s laughter grew as well as Jimmy’s, clearly satisfied with the surprise.

Your hands went to cover your mouth, face feeling hot like you had a fever. You just gushed about this man practically to his face.

“Hi, Y/n. I’m Drew.”

You couldn’t respond, just in pure shock as you stare at the tall man.

Drew also looked a little sheepish, his cheeks pink as he grinned at you.

“Did you— did you hear everything?” You finally managed to choke out.

“Maybe.” Drew chuckled, scratching the side of his neck.

“How do you feel after hearing all that, Drew?” Jimmy chuckles.

“I’m honored,” Drew replies.

You hated the way he fucking said that and the way you understood that reference.

Drew held his hand out for you to shake, but your heart was beating too fast and your brain was turning into nervous mush that you just embarrassed yourself in front of your dream man.

“Are you going to shake his hand? Hug him?” Jimmy chuckled.

“I’m… scared.” You murmured, the audience swooning and giggling over your shyness.

“Can I hug you?” Drew asked.

Stunned, your head slowly nodded. His strong arms wrapped around your body, your forehead resting against his shoulder.

You couldn’t even hug him back properly, just too much in shock. He smelt like cologne and it made your knees weak.

“I love your new song, by the way.” Drew murmured softly in your ear.

“Yeah?” You whisper, feeling like an idiot for the way you were reacting in front of him.

Drew just nods and hums, soothingly caressing your back in an effort to calm you down.

“Ladies and gentlemen, give it up one last time for Y/n L/n and Drew Starkey!” Jimmy has to end the segment.

The audience cheers as Drew continues to embrace you.

He had known about you for the last few months, having a few of your songs in his playlists.

He was just constantly busy so he never really got the chance to reach out, but when Jimmy’s team contacted him about surprising you on the show, he was excited.

And nervous.

“Sorry about surprising you like that.” Jimmy comes over, causing you and Drew to finally pull away.

“You gave me trust issues for talkshows now.” You said jokingly, finally calming down a bit.

Drew and Jimmy both laughed softly.

The film crew told you and Drew that the commercial break would be ending soon so to step off stage.

You did your signature on the wall dedicated to Jimmy’s guests, feeling familiar blue eyes gazing at you.

After thanking each crew member and shaking hands or hugging, an assistant pointed you and Drew towards where a car will take you both back to your perspective hotels.

“You ready?” Drew asked you.

You nodded, feeling nervous due to the fact that you were about to be alone in the back of a car with your celebrity crush, other than the driver in the front.

Drew opened the door for you as you climbed in, hyperaware of how he slid in behind you onto the leather seat.

It was quiet for a few moments, you nervously fidgeting with the rings on your fingers.

“So… you like my new song?”

You finally manage to choke out.

Drew smiled softly, turning his head to look at you. He was still a little flustered at everything that happened, but also very amused.

“I do, yeah. Are you going to shoot a music video for it?” Drew asked.

You nod, making eye contact with him.

“Yeah, my idea is to tell a story about these two lovers who move to like a quieter part, I was thinking either the forest or a desert, that live in poorer conditions but are completely happy and content because they have each other. I want it to be full of love, so kissing, affection, a sex scene.”

You rambled on to him, your eyes falling to your hands as you played with your rings.

“Oh, wow. That sounds cool as fuck.” Drew murmured, also watching your hands fidget. He thought it was cute.

“I’ve had the idea in my head for a few years, actually. I started writing ‘Perfume’ in like… 2021? So, I just want everything to be perfect.”

You added on, looking back at him. He had his left leg crossed over his knee, his body language towards you.

“Well… if you need a male costar, I would love to do it.” He gave you a smile.

A small grin curled onto your lips, stomach hurting at realization of what he just implied.

“Yeah?”

He nodded, licking his lips.

“Mhm. I told you, I love the song. Plus, your idea sounds amazing, and if you want me to, I would love to be apart of it.”

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat when it finally hit you that Drew fucking Starkey wanted to be your on-screen lover.

“You’re not just fucking with me, right?”

You had to ask, blurting it out of your nervous mouth.

Drew just snorted, shaking his head in amusement. “No, I’m not.”

“Okay… I’ll have my manager reach out to your’s about details for when we start shooting. I appreciate it a lot.”

You were unaware the car finally came to a stop, parked outside your hotel, fans and security guards waiting for you.

“Yeah, I’ll definitely be there. Have a good night, Y/n.”

Drew smiled at you, your heart fluttering.

“You too, Drew.”

You got out of the car, letting the security guards guide you inside the hotel. You tried your best to take photos or sign autographs for your dedicated fans, something Drew admired as he watched from the back of the SUV.

By the time you finally got back into your hotel room and kicked off your boots, you started taking off your jewelry.

Flopping down onto the bed, you grabbed your phone.

It felt like your heart dropped to your stomach when one notification specifically caught your eye.

@/drewstarkey started following you back

[vanishingcherry]

landoscar playing strip poker is so funny because i'm just imagining oscar being like well guess i'll take my watch off... guess i'll remove a single sock... while lando is immediately like Whoops where did my shirt go 🙈😜

[vanishingcherry]

Hi babes how are you?? can you write something with jade thirlwall as your face claim please? Thanks❤❤

the great escape - cl16

summary: the final race of the f1 calendar and yn's final show of her world tour are happening the same day. will charles make it on time?

folkie radio: I CAN'T BELIEVE THE SEASON IS OVER. WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO UNTIL MARCH??? anyway, this is 100% inspired by the final race and the final eras tour show happening during the same day and i hope you like it!

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

liked by charles_leclerc, arianagrande and 2,820,604 others

yourinstagram seattle you were UNREAL tonight! the energy was everything and more! this lifetimes world tour has been the journey of my dreams 🌟 thank you for making every single show so special!

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username1 BEST GIRL EVER

username2 THE SHOW WAS AMAZING

charles_leclerc You were incredible mon amour ❤️ The way you light up that stage... Proud doesn't even begin to cover it

↳ username1 CHARLIEEE

↳ username2 he’s such a simp

↳ username3 i need my man to hype me up like this

lewishamilton Killed it as always 🔥

username4 THE WAY CHARLES ALWAYS COMMENTS FIRST ON HER POSTS I CAN'T 😭

username5 anyone else notice he's been liking her posts exactly 1 minute after they're uploaded? 👀

username6 missing the days when they tried to hide their relationship now they're just being cute everywhere

username7 TOUR OF THE DECADE

bellahadid mother 😍😍

username8 SOMEONE TELL ME HOW TO PROCESS THE "mon amour" COMMENT

username9 charles watching from Monaco at 4am again we see

username10 I CANT BELIEVE THIS TOUR IS COMING TO AN END

liked by maxverstappen1, yourinstagram and 1,765,499 others

charles_leclerc A Sunday I’ll forever remember 🇮🇹❤️

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username1 FORZAAAA CHARLES

username2 and that's how you do it

arthur_leclerc ❤️

username3 THE KING OF MONZA FOREVER

username4 SO DESERVED

username5 uughh sucks that yn couldn't be there

landonorris Well done mate!

username6 just missing his girl i'm crying

username7 did anyone else catch him grabbing his phone as soon as he stepped off the podium? probably calling yn

username8 THE CHAMPIONSHIP IS POSSIBLE

yourinstagram YES YES YES ! so proud of you babyyyy 🥺

username9 someone reunite yn and charles asap i can't do this

username10 THAT WINNER GLOW

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liked by username1, username2 and 41,927 others

f1gossip CHARLES LECLERC SPOTTED IN NASHVILLE!

Man really flew straight from Austin → Mexico→ Brazil and then to Nashville all in 15 days just to see YN perform! Talk about a supportive boyfriend

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username1 I LOVE HIM SM

username2 Bro finished P3 in Mexico, P1 in Austin and instead of resting he's here... that's love

username3 ferrari's physio is having a breakdown watching this

username4 the way he's been to 13 shows this tour despite racing... abu dhabi to vegas doesn't seem impossible anymore 👀

username5 he really said "sleep is for the weak"

username6 HES SO IN LOVE

username7 using his days off to fly across the world to see her... meanwhile I can't get a text back

username8 such a fanboy

username9 they need to get married idc

username10 im going to be devastated if he doesn’t make it to the final show

liked by username1, username2 and 39,605 others

ynupdates "So, um, funny story about this next song... I wrote it after watching someone very special to me race in Monaco last year. He crashed his Ferrari, which was absolutely terrifying by the way. But afterward, he just looked at me and said 'At least I looked cool doing it, no?' And somehow that turned into 'Reckless Driving'... which, Charles, I know you're back there trying to hide under your hoodie, but you're still not forgiven for that crash." -YN in Nashville tonight

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username1 his face was SO RED

username2 ot Charles trying to sink into his seat when she mentioned Monaco 💀

username3 I LOVE ONE COUPLE

username4 the way he still gets shy every time she mentions him on stage even though they've been together for 2 years 🥺

username5 charles collecting tour moments like infinity stones... Abu Dhabi to Vegas IS happening guys

username6 "you're still not forgiven" MA'AM YOU WROTE A WHOLE SONG ABOUT IT

username7 THE WAY PIERRE WAS JUST POINTING AND LAUGHING AT HIM

username8 he's been to so many shows and still blushes every time she mentions him I can't 😭

username9 the fact that one of her biggest hits came from him crashing a Ferrari... iconic

username10 I LOVE THEM SOOO BAD

liked by yourinstagram, lewishamilton and 2,033,765 others

charles_leclerc Ready for the final push. Been an incredible season so far... but the best moments have been watching you shine @/yourinstagram❤️

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username1 CHARLIEEEE

username2 this is so cute

yourinstagram the best cheerleader in the paddock ❤️ (even when you're half asleep from jet lag)

↳ username1 AWEEEE

↳ username2 i love them so bad

carlossainz55 Focus on the championship... then we plan the great escape 🏃‍♂️

↳ username1 THE FACT THAT THEY’RE ALREADY PLANNING

username3 THE TENSION IS KILLING US WILL HE MAKE IT TO THE FINAL SHOW OR NOT

scuderiaferrari Eyes on the prize🏆

username4 anyone else tracking flights from abu dhabi to vegas just in case? no? just me?

username5 man's about to break the sound barrier trying to get to that show

landonorris Better start practicing those quick pit stop exits mate

username6 not me already emotional thinking about if he makes it 😭

username7 the way he hasn't confirmed or denied if he's going to make it... the STRESS

username8 time zones are just a social construct anyway

username9 I LOVE ONE FAIRYTALE COUPLE

username10 this duo is the best thing that happened

liked by charles_leclerc, dualipa and 2,509,578 others

yourinstagram 161 shows. 89 cities and somehow it still feels like yesterday when we opened in tokyo. to every single person who's been part of this lifetimes world journey - my heart is so full. these last few shows are going to be extra special ✨🌟

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username1 IM CRYING

username2 IF WE COULD ONLY TURN BACK TIME

charles_leclerc Still remember when you were so nervous before that first show in Tokyo... now look at you. La mia stella ⭐️

↳ yourinstagram i love you

taylorswift The most magical tour! So proud of you 🥺✨

pierregalsy @/charles_leclerc remember when you made us watch the Tokyo livestream in the simulator room? 😂

username3 NOT ME CRYING AT 3AM READING THIS

username4 LIFETIMES TOUR FOREVER 🌟

username5 still can't believe she changed her entire tour schedule to avoid clashing with race weekends... except the last show 😭

scuderiaferrari Looking forward to getting our garage singer back after tour ends

username6 the most supportive F1 boyfriend despite the insane schedules... we love to see it

username7 TOUR OF THE DECADE

sabrinacarpenter most perfect girl ever 💘

username8 that last show is going to make us all weep

username9 I CANT BELIEVE I WAS PART OF THIS

username10 if charles doesn’t make it to her last show istg

liked by username1, username2 and 43,758 others

f1gossip SPOTTED: YN in the Vegas paddock supporting Charles before tonight's race! Sources say she's been here since Thursday's practice sessions 👀

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username1 POWER COUPLE

username2 they’re so hot

username3 she's been to every practice session... meanwhile charles calculating flight times to her final show 👀

username4 ferrari PR trying to handle both of them being extra cute in the paddock 😂

username5 THE WAY SHE FIXES HIS HELMET BEFORE EVERY SESSION 🥺

username6 taking a break from tour rehearsals to support her man... we love to see it

username7 the way she knows all the Ferrari crew by name now 🥺

username8 both of their face cards create a face economy

username9 IT COUPLE FOREVER

username10 i love yn at the paddock

liked by username1, username2 and 42,038 others

charlesupdates “I mean... if I have to sprint from the car in Abu Dhabi still in my race suit, that's what I'll do. Some things are more important than post-race protocols, no? Fred might kill me but... I've watched her grow so much during this tour, and I'm not missing that final show. I'll figure it out.” -Charles about the final race taking place the same day of his girlfriend’s final show!

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username1 AHHHH

username2 this is so cute

username3 translation: I already have 3 different backup plans and a private jet on standby

username4 THE WAY HE JUST OPENLY ADMITTED HE'S PLANNING TO DITCH POST-RACE 😭

username5 "Some things are more important than post-race protocols" STOP IM CRYING

username6 Charles "I'll break every FIA rule for my girl" Leclerc

username7 man's really about to set a new record for fastest post-race exit

username8 remember when they tried to be subtle about their relationship? now he's planning a great escape on live tv😭

username9 YUP IM CRYING OVER THIS

username10 best couple ever fr

liked by charles_leclerc, arianagrande and 2,879,044 others

yourinstagram vegas race weekend dump 🏎️❤️ from trying (and failing) to understand strategy meetings to @/pierregasly teaching me proper radio etiquette... might have to come to more races if the view is this good 😌 now off to the final shows ! see you tomorrow night philly 🌟

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username1 ICONICCCC

username2 queen of the paddock actually

scuderiaferrari Our favorite honorary team member ❤️

username3 we need her at every race actually

username4 from selling out arenas to falling asleep in F1 strategy meetings... we love a versatile queen

username5 the way the whole team has adopted her though 😭

adele Gorgeous ✨✨

carlossainz55 Those strategy ideas weren't bad actually... 🤔

username6 living for boyfriend charles content

username7 pierre and yn’s friendship tho

francisca.cgomes miss youuuu🤍

username8 NOW CHARLES NEEDS TO MAKE IT TO HER FINAL SHOW

username9 i’ve died dead

charles_leclerc Love you mon amour ❤️

username10

username11 "might have to come to more races" PLEASE DO 😭

username12 that helmet pic is giving "take your girlfriend to work day" energy

username13 he fact that she changed her final show time to match the potential race end time... we see you 👀

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liked by charles_leclerc, yourinstagram and 1,027,847 others

pierregasly Practicing the escape route for Abu Dhabi -> Vegas next week. Current time to beat: plane to venue in 2 hours 37 minutes.

The things my boy does for love @/charles_leclerc 🏃‍♂️✈️

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username1 I CANT DO THISSSS

username2 bffs i love them

charles_leclerc You're the best getaway driver a man could ask for 🫡

yourinstagram not you two literally timing his sprints through the plane... i can't with you both 😭❤️

username3 THE WAY THEY'RE PLANNING THIS LIKE AN OCEAN'S 11 HEIST

lewishamilton Helicopter already fueled up boys

username4 pierre really said "professional racer AND escape route planner"

username5 this friendship>>>

username6 bestie behavior is planning your friend's cross-continental love sprint

landonorris you both are mental 😂😂

username7 pierre "i will get this man to his girl" gasly strikes again

scuderiaferrari Preparing the great escape as we speak

username8 friendship is when your bro times your airport sprints

username9 pierre taking "wing man" to new heights fr fr

username10 THIS IS REALLY SERIOUS

francisca.cgomes Partners in crime 😭

username11 I NEED THIS IN MY LIFE

username12 long live piarles

liked by yourinstagram, carlossainz55 and 2,038,368 others

charles_leclerc One more race. Then Vegas calling 👀✈️

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username1 IM SEATED

username2 i can’t believe this season is coming to an end

pierregasly Your bag is already in Vegas btw. Yes I packed the good cologne 😌

↳ username1 pierre is the best wingman ever

carlossainz55 My media training about to come in clutch tomorrow covering for you 🏃‍♂️

↳ username2 the way the entire paddock is just helping out

maxverstappen1 Plane's fueled up mate. Just say when

username3 OPERATION GET CHARLES TO VEGAS IS A GO!!!!11!!

username4 NOT ME TRACKING 27 DIFFERENT FLIGHTS FROM ABU DHABI TO VEGAS RN 😭😭

username5 the way this man bout to break the land speed record getting to that airport HELP

username6 HE BETTER MAKE IT OR WE RIOTING FR FR

username7 the whole paddock helping him escape is giving romance movie of the year idc idc

username8 NOT NOW GUYS IM CALCULATING TIME ZONES AND FLIGHT PATHS 📝😤

username9 the way he planned his whole race weekend around making this show... boyfriend of the year???

username10 imagine being so whipped you plan an intercontinental sprint... we love to see it 😭

yourinstagram break a leg baby ❤️ (but like... not literally bc you need to run fast tomorrow)

liked by charles_leclerc, madisonbeer and 3,674,033 others

yourinstagram 24 hours until the final lifetimes show. still can't believe we're here. to everyone who's been part of this journey - my heart is so full it might burst. vegas, let's make this one special ✨

(yes i'm wearing his jacket for good luck don't @ me)

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username1 I CANT BELIEVE ITS OVER

username2 man im going to cry

username3 NOT ME TRACKING EVERY PRIVATE JET FROM ABU DHABI RN 😭😭

charles_leclerc that jacket's never looked better mon coeur. see you soon 🏃‍♂️✈️

↳ username1 SOMEONE CHECK IF HIS RACE IS DONE YET PLS

username4 THE WAY WE'RE ALL WATCHING F1, SHOW LIVESTREAM AND REFRESHING FLIGHT RADAR AT THE SAME TIME

carlossainz55 Don't worry i'll handle the press so he can SPRINT

↳ username2 SHES SO LOVED

dualipa PROUD OF YOU ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

troyesivan tour of the century

username5 half of us watching the race, half tracking flights, half crying about the tour ending... math who???

mercedesamgf1 Our helicopter offer still stands @/charles_leclerc just saying

username6 NOT THE WHOLE F1 PADDOCK HELPING THIS MAN MAKE IT IN TIME... netflix been real quiet since this dropped fr

username7 IM SO PROUF OF HERRRR

username8 planning my own wedding but somehow more invested in this man making it to vegas help 💀

username9 NO YN DONT GOOO

username10 this show is going to be legendary

liked by username1, username2 and 59,726 others

f1updates BREAKING: OPERATION GET CHARLES TO VEGAS IS GO! 🏃‍♂️✈️

- Race finished 9:47pm Abu Dhabi time

- Fastest cooldown lap in F1 history

- Shortest post-race interview ever ("Yes car good thanks bye")

- Carlos creating chaos as distraction

- Pierre with the getaway bag

- Entire grid covering for him

- Multiple transport options ready

YN's show starts in 11 hours. IT'S HAPPENING.

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username1 everyone say thank you ferrari mechanics for that 0.5 second car shutdown

username2 never seen this man move so fast in his LIFE

username3 "how was the race carlos?" "LOOK OVER THERE A DISTRACTION"

username4 THE WAY HE YEETED HIMSELF OUT THAT CAR HELP 💀

username5 charles really said post race protocol who??? don't know her???

username6 never seen someone get out of race suit that fast tbh

username7 someone tell sky sports to stop looking for him he's GONE gone

username8 OPERATION YEET CHARLES TO VEGAS STATUS: ENGAGED

username9 charles doing his interview WHILE WALKING is sending me

username10 the whole paddock moving like secret service agents i can't 💀

username11 live footage of charles breaking land speed records to the airport

username12 netflix punching air rn that they missed filming this

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liked by username1, username2 and 67,864 others

f1updates🚨CHARLES LECLERC HAS ENTERED THE BUILDING 🚨

CONFIRMED DETAILS:

- Arrived during 6th song

- Still in race weekend stubble

- Pierre waiting with water bottle

- Security running interference

- Straight from plane to venue

- VIP entrance at 10:47pm

WE REPEAT: MISSION ACCOMPLISHED 🏃‍♂️✈️

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username1 IM CRYING

username2 I CANT BELIEVE HE MADE IT

username3 THE WAY THE WHOLE ARENA JUST GASPED???

username4 not me crying in section 103 watching him sprint to his seat 😭

username5 charles 🤝 cinderella = racing against midnight

username6 THE WAY YN STUMBLED OVER HER LYRICS WHEN SHE SAW HIM BYE-

username7 everyone who helped track his flight, we did it joe 😭

username8 security guard: sir you need to wal-

charles: I JUST FLEW 8000 MILES LET ME RUN

username9 yn’s smile when she saw him... brb sobbing

username10 THE WAY HE JUST COLLAPSED IN THAT SEAT LIKE HE RAN A MARATHON

username11 him mouthing "i made it" to her... i'm going to pass away

username12 section 201 reporting: his hair is still sweaty from racing and he's BEAMING at her like she hung the stars i'm literally deceased

username13 the way she kept giggling during the ballad bc he was still panting from running... HELP THIS IS SO CUTE???

username14 pierre handing him water and fixing his collar while yn's trying not to cry on stage... the CHAOS of it all

username15 THE WAY HE HASNT STOPPED SMILING AT HER SINCE HE SAT DOWN... boy ran across the world just to see her shine 🥺

username16 not the backup dancers crying bc he made it... WE'RE ALL EMOTIONAL OK

username17 THE WAY SHE KEEPS GETTING DISTRACTED BC HE'S FINALLY THERE... girl same i can't focus either

username18 everyone in the arena watching him catch his breath in that seat like we all just completed a mission together... WE DID IT YALL 😭

liked by username1, username2 and 59,068 others

yntourupdates TRANSCRIPT OF YN TALKING ABOUT CHARLES (while trying not to cry):

"So um... *laughs* someone just flew literally across the world to be here... *wipes tear* ran straight from his race... didn't even change... *crowd screams* ...and made it just in time for this next song. Which is funny because... I actually wrote this one about someone who would cross oceans just to make me smile... *voice breaks* ...and well... *looks at charles* ...guess I manifested that huh?"

SOMEONE HOLD ME 😭

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username1 THE WAY HE JUST BURIED HIS FACE IN HIS HANDS WHEN SHE SAID THAT-

username2 NOT THE ENTIRE ARENA TURNING TO LOOK AT HIM SOBBING IN THE FRONT ROW

username3 she really said "wrote a song about someone crossing oceans for me" and he said BET WATCH ME DO IT IRL

username4 section 304 reporting: grown men crying. me crying. everyone crying.

username5 HE LOOKS SO PROUD BUT ALSO EMOTIONAL BUT ALSO EXHAUSTED BUT ALSO SO IN LOVE HELP???

username6 NOT HER VOICE CRACKING WHEN SHE LOOKED AT HIM... netflix been real quiet since this dropped fr

username7 someone tell charles to stop looking at her like that i'm fighting for my life in row 23 😭

username8 the backup dancers wiping their eyes while doing choreo... we're all emotional messes tonight

username9 she really manifested a whole man flying across continents... her power??????

username10 yn crying, charles crying, dancers crying, crowd crying, me crying, everyone crying

username10 THE WAY HE MOUTHED "I LOVE YOU" WHEN SHE STARTED CRYING... I'm going to need medical attention

liked by carlossainz55, yourinstagram and 3,022,836 others

charles_leclerc Made it with 4 songs to spare. Thank you to:

- Every F1 driver who covered for me

- Pierre for the getaway bag

- Carlos for the media chaos

- Lewis for the helicopter

- Air traffic control

- That uber driver who broke speed limits

- Security who let me run

- Vegas traffic for finally clearing

Worth every second of that sprint 🏃‍♂️❤️ I love you more than anything @/yourinstagram

view all comments

username1 SOBBING

username2 I STILL CANT BELIEVE THIS REALLY HAPPENED

username3 doing post race interviews WHILE WALKING was iconic behavior

yourinstagram still can't believe you ran through vegas in race stubble just to see me cry on stage 🥺❤️ love you beyond words

pierregasly Anytime, brother, anytime

username4 you fixing your hair in your phone camera before sitting down... we saw that 👀

username5 ABU DHABI TO VEGAS SPEEDRUN ANY% WORLD RECORD

lorenzotl 🤍🤍

scuderiaferarri Next time we’ll have TWO helicopters ready

username6 this will go down as one of the most iconic moments in pop culture idc

username7 IT COUPLE FOREVER

username8 this entire thing is straight out of a romcom plot i can't

username9 IM CRYING AGAIN

username10 the great escape, 2024

liked by chappelroan, charles_leclerc and 3,099,578 others

yourinstagram and just like that, the lifetimes tour is over. 189 shows, countless memories, and one very special last night. to everyone who made this journey possible - my heart is yours forever.

special thank you to @/charles_leclerc who really said "watch me turn an f1 race to concert speedrun into a romantic gesture" 😭❤️ setting records on and off track baby, i love you so much

view all comments

username1 AND BACK TO CRYINGGG

username2 i can't believe this tour is over

charles_leclerc Still worth every mile mon coeur ❤️ I'm yours forever

username3 this man really turned "if he wanted to he would" into an olympic sport

pierregasly This was amazing. Let's not do it again

carlossainz55 Bext time we'll arrange TWO getaway cars

sabrinacarpenter happy for you my girl 💕

username4 from writing songs about crossing oceans to him actually doing it... manifestation is real

username5 "setting records on and off track" GIRL WE SAW HIM SPRINTING 😭

username6 the greatest love story since romeo and juliet except with private jets

username7 SOMEONE CHECK ON ME

username8 THAT LAST PHOTO BYE-

scuderiaferrari Our transport team is already planning routes for next year 😉

username9 AND I CAN'T EVEN GET A TEXT BACK

username10 this is the standard

[vanishingcherry]

louise: "congratulations, honey, on the final race, welcome home to me and the girls" 😭

[vanishingcherry]

donuts to finish up his legendary run with mercedes

[vanishingcherry]

It’s the end of an era 🥺

[vanishingcherry]

what was your 6th most listened to song

[vanishingcherry]

Max dropping a pregnancy announcement in the middle of the George publicity wars

[vanishingcherry]

I got this while scrolling on instagram to try to convince me to join threads and I—

We did it. We finally saved her.