#And my huge interest in Max

[bandi-off]

Don't be surprised when I start a side account for F1 and MaxCharles and specifically my Pacific Rim AU with the drivers as jaeger pilots

[maaaxx]

dont get me wrong i am more excited for this atla remake and the inevitable renaissance part 2 than i have ever been for anything in my life. however im also terrified of what changes this is going to bring to the fandom. Obviously the 2020 renaissance brought a lot of new and good things (zukka, a ton of amazing fics, etc). But more people joining the fandom means new people joining ao3 and interacting with fics and authors and artists too. Even in the few years that i've been active in fandom i've noticed a dramatic shift in how people interact with artists and authors especially. And I can't see this not getting worse as more people whose main social media experiences include tik tok and instagram coming to ao3 and tumblr. Like these people are used to content creators who revolve their content around what their audience wants because its their job, and I know this isnt going to translate well to the culture around ao3 writers especially when unconsolidated comments and 'advise' is already a problem for a ton of authors. And for people who dont understand that fics and fanart are supposed be transactional in the sense that you need to leave comments and kudos and reblog stuff when they're used to simply liking something *maybe* being enough. Idk whats going on with other fandoms, but I do know that these things have been an ongoing issue for the atla fandom and like I said, I can't imagine having another 'renaissance' and this stuff not getting worse.

[sysig]

It started with a whisper ♥ (Patreon)

[divinemach1ne]

some sam and max doodles from a bit ago! been busy with comms so havent had much else to post! first one is a 'redesign' (in a way) of their teen versions cause theyre silly but God What Is Max Wearing. also them with geek! i really want to draw geek but whenever i remember to i end up busy with something else D: then a silly drawing of em when theyre kids. they are up to no good

rest are pretty self explanatory lol

(also! im part of the reanimated project! the video of my part should be up soon >:D!)

[inchidentally]

Do you have any feelings towards maxiel? I love your analysis

Max and Daniel aren't high on my interests anon so I'm sorry I don't have a lot of feelings toward it! BUT a lot of my moots love maxiel and I'm always happy for them when they get content (and I know there's a LOT) <3

and whenever I watch a compilation video on yt you can always bet there's clips of those two - like Max buying Daniel the candle that smells like karting bc Daniel said that was a scent he wished he could bottle, like that is truly insane behavior. and the clip inside the plane when Max was waaaasted next to Daniel and Daniel's collapsing with laughter about it.

the one I saw recently was Max saying how if there's one place he could see himself retiring to or calling a second home ? it would be Australia. like that is a fan fic moment right there.

[gaylittleguys]

it’s actually so fucked up and evil that random white npcs from bg3 that show up twice got more dedicated fans than Wyll

[highlifeboat]

No thoughts only under appreciated OC Elizabeta

[deus-ex-mona]

there’s a non-non-zero chance of success though… _(:3 」∠)_

[maximumsunshine]

It's 5:30 in the morning

And my toes are slick with sweat

Turning up the AC

Or i am heaven met

I am so very tired

But way to fucking hot

The fan points at my cooch

For i fear it may well rot

Ash has moved a few feet over

He was sticking to my thigh

He left some fur behind him

But he did heed my cry

Oh it's 5:30 in the morning

And my toes are slick with sweat

I'd like to get some sleep now

But awake is infinite

Tonight is in the 60's

I should have been just fine

But meds were taken late

While i digested pumpkin brine

Oh it's 5:30 in the morning

And my toes are thick with sweat

Turning up the AC

Or I'll be heaven met

New rule. I have GOT to take my meds by 1am NO MATTER WHAT because while 3am wasn't really super late it just leaves no extra hot flashes cushion. Normally my hot flashes are over in an hour or two and tonight's are in fact calming down, but i need to leave room for 3 hours of hot flashes and if I want to be asleep by 4, that means meds taken by 1. I have more leeway in the winter so I've been going by the standard hour. But the world is burning and so is my crotch do 3 hours it is.

I'm going to be a DELIGHT come menopause. A DELIGHT i say!

Also it was pumpkin roll i was digesting, not brine. I ate too much pumpkim roll and had i tried to take my meds immediately after on such a full belly I would have immediately puked them back up. I'm exactly foolish enough to eat too much pumpkin roll. But not so foolish as to immediately puke up meds.

In my defense... pumpkin roll. And I just spent 4 days on a brat diet. It's safe to resume my normal careful don't piss off the liver diet. But my pancreas is no longer making me puke. Pretty sure I was actually fine once the pain was finally under control. I never was nauseous. I think i just hurt so bad i puked. But well, I gave myself whiplash over the porcelain throne. So i stuck to bread and rice for a few days there.

[polarfarina]

I'm watching soooo much adventure time. I play it all day while doing my tasks. I played it while I baked a cake

[birdflyinghigh]

having Big Emotions about musicals and accidentally spending well over an hour just thinking about and watching old videos about swept away. i'm begging for them to at least release a cast recording. and hopefully a proshot. pretty pretty please. (i've never been so attached to a musical where i know so little about the actual plot)

[sysig]

Pivotal bright spot (Patreon)

[pucksandpower]

Theories of Relativity

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: you don’t need TikTok theories to prove that your relationship is a dream come to life, but it doesn’t hurt when your boyfriend passes all of them with flying colors

The Olive Theory

When you love someone, you have to be willing to make sacrifices and compromises for them (even if those sacrifices are something small like pretending to hate olives just so you can give them to your olive-loving partner instead)

You sit across from Charles at the long dinner table, smiling as he animatedly recounts the race from last weekend. His hands wave through the air, punctuating his story as he describes the final lap battle with Max down to the last corner. You’re only half listening though, too distracted by how handsome he looks in his dinner jacket, his tanned skin glowing in the low light of the restaurant.

As Charles pauses to take a sip of wine, you lean in and whisper, “I wasn’t really watching the race, I only had eyes for you.”

Charles chuckles, his nose crinkling adorably. “Oh really? So you missed all the action then?"

You shrug, trailing a finger down his arm. “What can I say, I find you far more interesting than the other cars going around in circles.”

Charles opens his mouth to respond but is interrupted by a mechanic sitting a little way down from you. “Oi Charles, why do you keep picking all the olives out of your salad?"

You look down, noticing the small pile of olives Charles has stacked onto the edge of his plate.

Charles glances at you, a faint blush rising on his cheeks. “Oh, um, I’m not a huge fan of olives.”

The mechanic frowns in confusion. “But I’ve seen you eat olives before. You always get them on your pizza.”

“I, uh ...” Charles stammers, clearly flustered.

Under the table, you squeeze his hand reassuringly. Charles looks at you and you give him a small nod.

“Well, the truth is,” Charles says, turning back to the mechanic. “I actually love olives. But Y/N loves them even more than I do. So I pick them out of my food to give to her.”

You smile softly at Charles, warmed by his thoughtfulness. The mechanic chuckles and shakes his head. “You two are so cute it’s almost gross.”

Charles just grins and pops an olive into your mouth. “Anything for mon amour.”

You crunch the olive happily, then lean in to give Charles a quick kiss on the lips. “People who say chivalry is dead have simply never met you.”

The conversation moves on, flowing from racing to travel and everything in between. Under the table, your fingers stay intertwined with Charles’ the whole time.

After dinner, you all head outside into the cool night air. Charles’ team members head off towards their own cars, calling out goodbyes.

You snuggle into Charles’ side as you walk towards where his Ferrari is parked. “Thank you for the olives,” you say. “But you really don’t have to deprive yourself on my account.”

Charles wraps his arm around you, pulling you close. “I want to though. I like making you happy.”

You stop next to the car, turning to face him. Running a hand down his chest you say, “You know what would really make me happy right now?"

“Hmm?" Charles murmurs, his eyes drifting down to your lips.

You grin mischievously. “A stop for gelato on the way home.”

Charles laughs and opens the car door for you. “Anything for you, mon cœur.”

The Bird Test

If you say something that could be deemed insignificant and your partner responds with genuine curiosity, that’s a really good sign that your relationship will last a long time

The Brazilian sun beats down as you wander hand-in-hand with Charles along the edges of the Interlagos circuit. It’s the day before qualifying, and Charles brought you out to the track in São Paulo to share the grid walk with you.

You stroll slowly, enjoying a rare private moment together during the hectic race weekend. Charles points out details along the track — the tricky off-camber Turn 3, the sharp left-right complex at Turns 5 and 6, the long full throttle blast down the back straight.

You love seeing him so in his element here, his passion for racing evident in his voice and gestures.

As you round Turn 12, heading down the home straight, a flash of bright blue in the trees catches your eye. Gasping in excitement, you grab Charles’ arm and point.

“Look, a hyacinth macaw!”

Charles follows your gaze to the large, vividly colored parrot perched in the branches. “Wow, that’s amazing! I’ve never seen one outside of a zoo.”

You bounce on your toes, thrilled at the sighting. “Aren’t they gorgeous? That bright blue is unreal. Macaws are pretty rare around here, I can’t believe we spotted one!”

Charles smiles at your obvious delight, then turns back to observe the macaw with curiosity. “What do they eat?" He asks. “Fruit, like other parrots?"

“Yes exactly!” You reply eagerly. “Mostly palm nuts and acai berries. And they need a huge range of territory, something like 80 square kilometers.”

As you chat more facts about the brilliant bird, Charles listens attentively, asking more questions and commenting on its beauty. His genuine interest and engagement makes your heart flutter happily.

Eventually the macaw takes flight, its bright wings flashing blue against the trees as it disappears into the forest.

“Incredible,” Charles murmurs, watching it go. “What an amazing thing to see.”

He turns back to you, eyes shining. “Thank you for pointing it out, I never would have spotted it myself. I love seeing you so excited teaching me about something you’re passionate about.”

You step closer, looping your arms around his neck. “And I love that you always listen and want to know more, even if it’s not about racing.”

Charles wraps his arms around your waist, smiling tenderly. “Of course, your passions are my passions now too. I want to know everything that sparks that beautiful light in your eyes.”

The Orange Peel Theory

A partner’s willingness to perform small acts of service is indicative of a healthy relationship

Early morning sun filters into the kitchen as you sip your coffee, still wearing the oversized Ferrari shirt you slept in. Charles stands at the counter across from you, freshly showered and humming to himself as he browses his phone.

Setting your mug down, you grab an orange from the fruit bowl and start to peel it. Or at least you try. The tough rind puts up a stubborn fight, your nails scraping uselessly against it.

“Ugh, I hate peeling oranges,” you grumble after a minute. “Whose idea was it to make the peel so impossible?"

Charles glances up with a sympathetic smile. “Here, let me.”

He takes the orange from your hands and deftly digs his thumb into the top, effortlessly tearing the peel away in one long curl.

You watch in admiration as he strips the rest of the orange until it’s completely naked and ready to eat.

“Voila,” Charles presents it with a flourish. “One perfectly peeled orange for mon ange.”

“My hero,” you grin. You go to take it from him but Charles playfully keeps it out of reach.

“Ah ah, allow me,” he says. Holding your gaze, he gently pulls apart one glistening segment and brings it to your lips.

Happiness bubbles up in you at this sweet, unexpected gesture. You let Charles pop the orange slice into your mouth, savoring the bright citrus burst.

“Delicious,” you murmur. Charles smiles and leans in to kiss you softly, his thumb brushing a drop of juice from your lower lip.

One by one he continues to peel the segments and feed them to you, interspersing each with tender kisses that taste of orange and love.

You close your eyes blissfully, letting the sensual ritual relax you. Charles takes his time, not rushing. He knows this is your favorite part of the morning, stealing these private moments together before the busy day sweeps you both up.

When the last segment is gone, Charles kisses you again, deeper this time. You loop your arms around his neck, melting against him.

“Have I mentioned how much I love you?” you whisper when you finally separate.

Charles nuzzles your nose with his. “You may have said it once or twice. But I never get tired of hearing it.”

You lean into him contentedly. As always, his thoughtfulness and care warms you from the inside out.

Peeling an orange is such a small act but the meaning behind it speaks volumes. Charles knows your quirks and preferences, and cherishes these little opportunities to make your day brighter.

The little things that mean everything.

You’re still musing dreamily about this when Charles tips your chin up. “Where’d you go just now?” He asks with a curious smile.

You shake your head, focusing back on him. “Just thinking about us. And how perfectly you peel my oranges.”

Charles laughs. “Well I’m glad to be of service. I know how you hate getting orange string stuck under your nails.”

He kisses your fingertips one by one. “Can’t have anything marring these beautiful hands.”

You scrunch your nose at him. “Oh yes, I need to keep my hands soft and dainty in case a prince comes along to propose.”

Charles squawks in protest and tackles you against the counter, fingers digging into your sides to tickle you mercilessly. You dissolve into helpless giggles, swatting him away.

“No no, stop! I take it back!” You gasp.

Charles relents, holding you close and nuzzling into your hair. “Too late, you’re stuck with me now,” he murmurs, kissing your temple.

You snuggle into him contentedly. No fantasy prince could ever compete with the reality of Charles.

The Invisible String Theory

An invisible string connects those who are destined to meet, regardless of time, place, or circumstance (the string may stretch or tangle but it will never break)

The living room is filled with laughter and happy chatter as you and Charles sit surrounded by both your families. Your wedding is only two days away, and his mother suggested gathering everyone together one night for reminiscing and quality time.

Looking through old photo albums is proving to be hilarious and heartwarming. Baby pictures, school plays, family vacations — memories preserved to embroider the story of your lives before fate brought you together.

Charles smiles wistfully as Lorenzo shows an album from their childhood. “I wish my godfather and father could have met you,” he says softly. “They would have loved you so much.”

You take his hand, leaning your head on his shoulder. His lost loved ones are always close to his heart.

Your mother passes an album to you with a smile. “Oh this one is from our trip to France when you were five! So many cute little Y/N photos.”

You roll your eyes but obligingly open the album, Charles peering over your shoulder. You flip through pictures of your younger self building sandcastles on the beach, wearing a hilariously large sun hat, beaming gappily with missing front teeth.

Charles grins down at you. “Adorable. I can’t wait for our kids to-”

He stops abruptly, staring down at the page. You follow his gaze to a photo of your family in Nice, taken in front of the Le Negresco hotel. And there in the background, almost out of frame — four familiar figures walking down the promenade.

A young Charles holds the hand of a teenage boy you immediately recognize as Jules. On Charles’ other side, his father Hervé carries a toddler Arthur.

Your breath catches sharply. The families fall silent around you. Charles’ fingers tremble slightly as they trace over the image.

“Of course we went to Nice often,” he whispers. “I had no idea ...” His voice trails off, thick with emotion.

Arthur cranes his head to see. “Is that us? With Papa and Jules?" He looks between you and Charles with wide eyes.

“Almost twenty years ago,” Lorenzo marvels. “And your paths were already crossing.”

Pascale wipes at her eyes, grasping Charles’ other hand tightly. “It was meant to be. Some invisible string tying you together even then.”

Charles’ fingers tremble as they trace over the image. For one brief, impossible moment, it feels like you’re all together — you, Charles, Jules, Hervé. Preserved in time, intersecting at the crossroads of past and future.

Though you never met in life, somehow you were all bound in that instant, tied by invisible strings of destiny. Strings that would one day guide you and Charles to each other.

It’s only a photo, yet looking at it you feel Jules and Hervé’s presence like a bittersweet embrace. As if across the years, they’re saying we know you. We love you. We’re so happy for you both.

You stare down at it, this captured moment of impossible synchronicity. A glimpse of the thread that wove itself silently through your lives until the day it finally drew you together.

Charles meets your eyes, his own shimmering with tears. Without words, you know he feels it too. The impossible link stretching back through time. Proof you were always meant to find each other.

He pulls you close, kissing the top of your head. “I believe that with all my heart, we’ve always been connected somehow.”

“Soulmates,” you whisper.

You cling to him, overwhelmed with certainty. Through accidents of time and geography, missteps and milestones, your story was always guiding you here.

Meant for each other. Destined, even then.

[thatsdemko]

unknown - m.verstappen

masterlist | pairing: max verstappen x Hamilton!fem!reader. summary: when an unknown number comes across his phone, max can’t help but discover who’s sent him the image he can’t erase from his mind. warnings: 18+ + fingering (f receiving) + mentions of nudity + fluff (at the end). a/n: I want to give a huge shoutout to @monzabee for always being my inspiration to finish my smut, but also for convincing me to read twisted games (this ones inspired by that xx)

unknown

attachment: 1 image

the pinging sound distracts him from the current game on his television. pausing for a quick second, max glances at the unknown number and slides the message open as curiosity struck him.

unknown

can you see my nipples through this?

Max’s phone nearly drops into his lap at the second message. he barely got the chance to even open the image, the second message was far too appalling and his hands got too slippery from the precipitation building around him.

“max! come on!” the chatter from his headset snaps his attention from the black phone screen in his lap. red slips across his cheeks as he apologizes quickly for the distraction, and continues on like nothing happened.

though he couldn’t lie, the curiosity of the image was certainly looming around him. what was the person wearing? could he see said nipples? he couldn’t help but try to sneak peaks at his phone whenever he got the chance before the stream ended.

finally free from his friends, max slides open his phone and his breath sucks inward. you could definitely see your nipples through the sheer linen tight white top. in fact, if it weren’t for your underwear, you could see the very outline of your vagina.

fuck. max was unsure to text back. if he did, what would he even say? there was no clear indication on who it was sending the message. he didn’t recognize the number, and on top of that there was no face. the image was purely just the outfit.

max verstappen

a bra would be appropriate.

your heart fell about five stories down, and right into the pit of your gut. shit, you didn’t send the message to your friends. instead, you mistook the ID you tapped on for one of them, and it turned out to very clearly be your brothers rival: max verstappen.

unknown

don’t mention this to Lewis.

max verstappen

secret is safe with me.

while this made perfectly good blackmail, max had nothing against you. you were completely innocent and most likely too stupid to notice you tapped his phone number instead. he’d never utter a word to Lewis, and the photo would die with max whenever the time may be.

max verstappen

where are you headed looking like that?

y/n Hamilton

your moms house.

max stifled out a chuckle unable to believe that you were born by the same parents as Lewis. when it came to humor, Lewis used it very minimal, but from the select times max had spoken to you, you were the complete opposite. meditation was joke, veganism was impossible to follow, and driving at fast speeds was too boring. y/n hamilton was every opposite of her brother.

max verstappen

I think my house is a better place for that

your heart somehow jumped back into its place, attempting to thump its way out of its cavity. max could easily be joking, he could easily be serious, but either way you shouldn’t go. max was probably not interested in women like you, and sure the photo might’ve tipped the scales in your favor, but you weren’t really into vanilla sex like he could offer.

y/n Hamilton

you wish I was headed to your place like this.

max verstappen

I do.

fuck. you close your eyes, letting your fingers type the message and hit send before you can even have a single regret. max might be your opposite in the bedroom, but you can’t help but wonder what he’s got up his sleeve.

y/n Hamilton

I’m free right now.

—

twenty minutes later his soft lips are leaving trails down your neck, his fingers work the buttons of the top that sickened his soul into this. he was careful not rip the material, but he was so the opposite of careful when his lips wrapped around your nipple.

his tongue and teeth graze the sensitive skin while you melt against his mattress into a puddle.

you were so wrong about him. oh so so, wrong.

he’d practically ripped that white shirt to shreds the second you entered his place. his tongue was a dominate force, shoved down your throat, his lips were passionate and full of eager. vanilla sex was so not max. you could write pages about him, no fantasy or book explored the way max did.

his fingers. oh gosh, they could write stories about how delicate, and soft they were. how they expanded your folds and had you clenching around nothing. they worked wonders— magic perhaps, pumping at such a fast speed you didn’t have time to react feeling him floor you until every drop of you was around him.

“these,” his tongue swipes across your breast, lips wrapping around the tip of your nipple, sucking you like a baby its thumb. it was relaxing, gut twisting, and chilling. he left you panting, begging, and still he wasn’t finished. no ounce of him showed signs of stopping.

when finally he was done toying, done with whatever ‘warmup’ he claimed this to be, his large cock filled you, warmth overtook with pleasure when you felt his hips grind yours. the rhythm was nothing like his fingers, nothing like how his tongue moved on your skin, it was slow. he was slow, like he were to savor every moment of this.

you clench, you squeal, beg, whatever could come from you as noise. nothing was coherent, and max liked that. in fact, it quickened his pace with a smirk as he watched your eyes roll to the back of your head and moan his name.

“you’re taking it well.” his voice is raspy, husk and faint. a moan rippled through your body at the sound of him, you could feel butterflies unleash in the warmth of your stomach as you cry out and come on his cock.

“you’re different than I expected you to be.” you say watching him roll to the pillow beside you, his blue eyes fixed on yours, they still have that hunger in them that turns you on.

“when you wear a top like that,” his breath sucks inward, a simple shake of his head at the newest dirty ideas floating in his mind, “I can’t control myself.”

a breathy chuckle escapes your lips as you curl your body into his, perfectly molding together, “I guess I’m glad I ditched the girls for you.”

a smile stretches across his lips that he carefully plants on your forehead, “thanks for the text, I hope to receive more in the future.”

“you earned yourself a spot on speed dial.”

[tartarusknight]

Dustin is confused about why a dog keeps begging to be let in by his window every night. And really, the dog is too big to be a dog, but it looks like a golden retriever with soft brown fur. And well, his mom doesn't like it, so Dustin takes off the screen to his window and lets the dog in that way each night.

The dog sleeps at the end of his bed like Dustin is his person. But in the morning, the dog is always gone, only leaving some fur as proof it was ever there.

It stays that way for months until the third go around with the Upside Down. The dog doesn't appear at Dustin's window and he's terrified something happened or that when Dustin had been trapped under the mall, far from his house, that the dog had tried to see him and he didn't answer. It keeps him up at night until almost a week later, the dog is back.

Dustin let's the dog in instantly and hugs the wild animal, and it rests its head on top of his. The dog curls up ready for bed and it's the first night he sleeps the whole night through since the 4th.

Only the dog doesn't come back the next night or the next. And as the week drags by Dustin fears for his friend. Up until the point Max sighs, "I couldn't sleep last night. There's this dog that keeps barking at my window." She groans and leans against Lucas. Dustin sees the way Steve and Robin tense up off to the side.

"What kind of dog?" Lucas asks, "because the same thing is happening to me."

And Robin clears her throat. "Same." And suddenly the whole party is curious.

Max shrugs, "I don't know, big? Like a huge golden retriever if the golden retriever was on steroids."

And Dustin's mouth falls open. "No way- that- that my dog." He splutters and feels eyes on him. "That's why- he only ever calms down if you let him in. He showed up at mine a year ago and just kinda kept coming back."

"Weird," Steve chokes out and suddenly looks really interested in the floor.

But Dustin ignores him in favor of talking with Max, wondering why he never brought it up before.

[thef1diary]

Little Big Fan | M. Verstappen

Summary: A normal Tuesday becomes stressful when you lose your daughter in the grocery store, but then you find her with her favourite driver.

Warnings: none just fluff + max being the cutest with children.

Pairing: max x singlemother!reader (platonic ish?)

wc: 1.6k

Series Masterlist

You were strolling through the aisles in the grocery store. One hand pulling the smaller basket behind you while your other hand was held by your daughter, Isabella.

It was a normal Tuesday for your little family of two, shopping with your six year old daughter. Unable to say no whenever she picks up something and looks at you with the cutest pout.

During the ten minutes of shopping, it has happened twice so far. The first time it was a box of two-bite brownies that she was currently obsessed with, and the second time was chocolate chip cookies.

You continued walking through the aisle, sneaking a glance at Isabella every time she pointed at something and said "mama, look"

Everything was going smoothly, until you had to drop Isabella's hand to open the door to the refrigerator to grab yogurt for your little one.

"Bella, which one do you want?" You picked out two flavours that she liked, wanting to let her choose one but as you looked to your side, she wasn't there.

"Isabella?" You did a full 360 turn, in case she was attempting to hide behind you as she tried once before, but she wasn't there. That's when the panic started setting in.

Dragging your basket behind, you walked towards the nearby aisles hoping to find her. "Shit, shit, shit," you muttered under your breath because you couldn't find your little girl anywhere.

You truly felt like the shittiest parent in the world. Losing your child in the grocery store was something you never thought would happen to you, especially as Isabella was always right by your side. Today, you were proven otherwise.

Close to breaking out into a full sprint, you continued looking for her, becoming less and less aware of the people around you. You accidentally bumped into a few people, but you couldn't be bothered to look at them, only muttering an apology as you passed.

You almost skipped your gaze over her, but did a double take when you spotted her familiar glittery clips in brown hair that was the same shade as yours.

"Isabella!" You almost yelled, but thankfully the aisle she was in was nearly empty. Only one other person was present, crouched close to Isabella, who was speaking animatedly with grand hand gestures.

You immediately crouched down next to her, calling her name again and hugging her tightly.

"Mama, look!" Isabella spoke when you pulled away, not understanding the depth of the situation as she pointed to the man she was speaking to.

That's when you looked at him, wondering why Isabella was speaking to him, especially as she wasn't too outgoing. Sure she'd sometimes speak to strangers, but she wasn't the type to run away from you to do so.

You stood up, holding your daughter up on your hip and watched as the man also stood up. "Isabella, angel, what happened?" You were confused as to why she was so excited.

"It's Max! The race car one," Isabella spoke excitedly, and that's when it clicked for you. Due to her father's interest in the sport, it passed on to Isabella and she would ramble on and on about it whenever she'd return from her dad's house.

"Oh," you turned to look at Max, a sheepish smile making its way to your face. "I'm so sorry, I didn't even notice her leave my side." Frankly, you weren't sure if you were supposed to apologize but you knew that he was quite famous and possibly didn't want to be bothered.

He shook his head, “no worries, I should apologize for causing this,” he gestured to your daughter’s huge smile, excitedly moving around in your grasp.

He introduced himself to you, only realizing after that Isabella had already told you his name. You chuckled and told him your name, hearing him say it back to you.

“Mama, I told him that daddy and I watch him race,” Isabella told you, and you indulged in the conversation, knowing how much she loved watching Max on tv.

“Did you tell him how you’re a biiig fan?” You watched her nod eagerly, holding her hands far apart and telling Max, “this big!”

He chuckled, not seeming to mind the little girl interrupting his shopping trip. In fact, he was quite surprised when she first approached him, all shy then the outburst came out of nowhere once she confirmed it was Max, the racing driver.

The main reason why Isabella spotted him so easily was because he was in something similar to the blue and red clothes that she sees him wearing on tv, wearing a cap as well.

“And what about you, not a fan?” Max asked you, taking you by surprise as he initiated another conversation. You shrugged, “I don’t really watch but Isabella does when she’s at her dad’s.”

It was a common interest that the father-daughter duo shared, possibly the only one so you didn’t want to take that away from them.

Max nodded, understanding your specific choice of words saying “her dad’s” rather than “my husband” or something similar.

Just for that, knowing that you were a single mother, his appreciation for you doubled. Mainly because he judged you unknowingly when he spoke to Isabella and noticed the lack of any responsible adult around, not knowing that the little girl ran away from her mother.

“Daddy promised to take me to the track one day,” Isabella’s voice snapped him out of his little bubble, one in which he was only looking at you. He had to remind himself that you were only here because your daughter was a fan, not for any other reason.

You sighed internally, not really wanting to tell Max, your daughter’s favourite driver, that your ex had promised Isabella well over a year ago. It was a promise left unfulfilled for a while, and you didn’t have the heart to tell her that it may never be fulfilled.

However, even without words, Max seemed to notice your expression as you didn’t hide it well enough. He was quick to make a decision, and crouched a little lower to be face to face with your daughter. “How about you and your mama come see me at the next race?”

Isabella instantly looked at you with the same pout that always worked on you, but this time you really had to think about it. Your gaze turned to Max, “oh please don’t do what I think you are suggesting.”

Max’s smile only grew, “I am suggesting that I can send you two paddock passes for the next race.”

Your daughter happily bounced in your grasp and she was wiggling around too much for you to hold her still. Placing her down and holding her hand, you thought about Max’s suggestion.

“Do you want to go, angel?” You asked Isabella, already knowing that she would say yes. “Please mama, can we go? please, please, please.”

You chuckled at her excitement, nodding at her and looked at Max, “looks like the decision is made.”

“Good, I will be looking forward to seeing you both,” Max stated, but remembering an important detail, you blushed in embarrassment. “One question,” you started, watching him nod to let you continue, “when is the race?”

“Next weekend. How about I send you tickets for Saturday and Sunday, would that be okay?”

To think he was a famous athlete, you couldn’t believe his kindness. Sure, not all athletes were rude, and you didn’t have any previous experience but it was still surprising.

“Yes, that should be okay. Thank you so much for doing this.” He just shrugged, “it’s not a problem at all.”

Your daughter was getting restless now, already in the grocery store for a while now plus this conversation was going on longer than she thought.

Isabella managed to release her hand from your grasp, but you instantly noticed. A sheepish smile grew on her face and Max could notice the familiarities between mother-daughter. “Stay right here, Bella,” you tried a stern voice, something you weren’t used to, so she knew you were serious.

“Okay mama,” she nodded and walked to the basket you abandoned once you first spotted Isabella.

Max said your name, bringing your attention back to him. “She’s cute, how old is she?” He asked, watching Isabella play with the items in the basket.

“She’s the cutest six year old.” You two watched her with interest, but while your gaze was still on your daughter, Max’s gaze shifted to you.

“Oh, I was meaning to ask, I need your contact information for the passes,” he scratched the back of his neck while a small smile made its way on your face.

“Are you asking me for my number?” You teased him, unsure where the playfulness in the conversation came from but neither of you were opposed to it.

“Yeah, I guess I am,” he pulled out his phone, unlocking it and giving it to you. Once you handed it back to him, he chuckled when he saw the contact name you saved yourself as. Isabella’s mama

“So I guess I’ll see you soon?” You asked, having spent more than enough time in a grocery store but somehow not wanting to say goodbye yet. “Yeah, I’ll send you the details in a bit. Maybe I might just turn you into a fan?”

“We’ll see, Max, but no promises.” You chuckled, calling Isabella so she could say goodbye to Max.

She surprised you both by clinging onto his legs, and he quickly crouched down to give her a proper hug. “Bye Maxy.”

“Bye Isabella, I’ll see you soon!”

As you grabbed her hand and began walking away, Isabella turned around to wave at Max once again, making him chuckle but easily retuning the wave.

He stood there until you and your daughter were both out of sight. Then, he groaned once he realized that he still had a few more items to grab from his list before he could leave.