Day 5- Forbidden Love
Obligatory Tags: @our-newdream @autumn-sundrop @seadrreams @the-writer1988
For today’s prompt I decided to do a small drabble! This takes place in an au where Eugene was pardoned, but isn’t allowed to date Rapunzel or be in the palace. For now at least, Frederic wants to try out a few suitors for Rapunzel. It was inspired by this particular concept art, because it’s really cute and I love it XD
~~~~~
“Let me guess, date with Prince Bradley didn’t go like you hoped?” Cassandra asked as she glanced down at the full cup of tea.
“Oh, nono, it was fine!” Rapunzel quickly reassured, “Well..until he called Pascal a salamander.” Ahhh, so that’s why he’d been red all day.
“Could be worse. Your dad could be setting you up with one of the princes from the Southern Isles.” Cass tried to cheer her up.
“I know, but I don’t want a prince from the southern isles. I don’t want any stuffy old prince.” Rapunzel replied, “They’re nice and all, but I….they just don’t understand me. And they’re WAY too interested in my hair. I keep telling them, it doesn’t heal anymore.”
Cassandra frowned, her heart breaking at her friend’s misery. She didn’t like this any more than Rapunzel did, but neither of them had any choice. Rapunzel had to find a suitable prince to marry, and Cassandra had to act like she was in full support of it.
“I just wish I could be with someone who loved me. Not the princess.” Rapunzel sighed, falling down onto her bed. Without even looking, she reached her hand under her pillow and pulled out a small flag. The flag Eugene bought her for her birthday. He’d given her the kindest smile when he handed it to her, and chuckled when she held it up to the light.
“It’s no lanterns, but any true devil may care rogue makes sure to get the birthday girl a present, Blondie.” She recalled him saying.
“Yeah I know, Raps.” Cassandra responded, “But…sometimes life doesn’t always work that wa-“
“Oh, Rapunzel! Let down your hair!” A familiar voice sang out.
“Lance! I told you not to sing!” They heard Eugene mutter. Cassandra and Rapunzel gave each other a look and headed outside to the balcony. To their surprise, they found a familiar pair of faces scaling the tower to Rapunzel’s room, bickering to each other about a dramatic entrance.
“Eugene! Lance!” Rapunzel cried out happily.
“And there’s the someone, right on cue.” Cassandra snarked, “Looks like he was preening a little extra today.”
“You know what Cassandra?” Eugene started to retort, but his voice died in his throat a little as he laid eyes on Rapunzel.
“Hey..” he whispered.
“Hi!” She chirped, her smile shining brighter than the sun. Eugene couldn’t help but find himself smiling back. She looked So beautiful with the sunset behind her like this, practicality bathing her in a halo of light. From up there she looked like an angel. That stunning dark purple dress that brought out her beautiful eyes. Those gorgeous freckles that perfectly painted her rosy cheeks. Short bubble sleeves like the one on that dress complimented her so well. She should wear them more often.
“What brings you and Lance out her?” Rapunzel asked.
“Damaging stone that’s hundreds of years old…and breaking into the palace…again.” Cassandra added dryly.
“Well a little birdie, or rather frog, told Eugene that you had a bad day.” Lance explained.
“So I brought a picnic!” Eugene announced. He moved his arm to grab the basket so he could show her, but then his arm flew right back to the arrow lodged in the wall as soon as he felt himself falling.
“And I’m here for musical ambience!” Lance announced proudly.
“And I’ve also got some candles too!” Eugene added, “And lanterns in case you wanted those instead of candles. But both are very romantic.”
“Exactly how long have you guys been scaling the wall like this with all this stuff?” Rapunzel asked.
“Uhhh….2 hours?” Eugene answered, “But don’t worry, my arms aren’t tired at all.”
Rapunzel barely stopped herself from giggling, “Do you want to climb my hair?”
“…Yes please, this is killing me.” Eugene finally whimpered, looking up at her like a kicked puppy. Rapunzel let the giggle out this time, and let her hair fall down from the balcony. Eugene quickly abandoned the arrows and grabbed on, now climbing much quicker. Rapunzel couldn’t help herself from leaning over the railing as Eugene finally made it to the balcony. Her heart soared as their eyes met and they smiled at each other. He must’ve gotten closer without her realizing, because before she knew it his lips were on hers. She giggled once more and happily kissed him back, her hands rising up to hold his face.
“Hey.” He purred when she pulled away.
“Hi…” she whispered, her cheeks flushing.
Lance chuckled to himself as he saw the scene, walking over to Cassandra as the two love birds pulled their picnic out.
“I doubt the King will ever approve of this.” Cassandra warned him quietly, “He’ll never allow them to be together.”
“Are you gonna say anything, goody two shoes?” Lance teased, but the twinkle in his eyes gave him away that he already knew the answer.
“I won’t say anything if you won’t.” Cassandra said anyway, “Besides, what they do when the king isn’t looking is their business.”
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—seven days. [ vi.i ]
pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.
summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.
tags: @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @eugene-emt-roe @bellezaycafe @barnestatic @theseerbetweenus @wcnorris @notyouraveragemochii @lpab @vildetry06 @a-beaverhausen @formula1mount @loloekie @alucardsdaddyissues @juky-ps @cassianswh0reeee @devotedlycrookeddonut @amberpanda99 @supermaxv1 @evie-119 @spideylovin @harianaswhore
author's note: i dunno if this is good cuz i have to delete a lot of scenes to make everything fit djsjjj. AND pls listen to two weeks notice by leanna firestone. 🐝 anon shared it to me and AAAAAAAHHH it captures the main vibe of the fic
masterlist.
"New shoes?”
The shoes come in black and it features a sleek silhouette with a pointed toe and a golden heel that is shaped as the letters Y, S, and L. Max is no expert in shoes but he knows how to recognize a luxury shoe if he sees one.
“Pretty lil things, aren't they?” you bring your foot forward to flaunt it.
Max doesn't know if it’s the heels that makes your feet look pretty or if the heels look pretty because you have pretty feet. Contrary to popular belief, Max does not have a feet kink. He just knows how to appreciate the aesthetics of a body part.
“Three years of savin’ and I finally got ‘em.”
“Good for you?” Is that an appropriate thing to say to a woman who just bought nice-looking shoes?
Max sees Daniel hug you after the Azerbaijan GP. You have twinning smiles on your face. Max's curiosity grows. You pull away from the hug and wave goodbye, returning to the garage, to where Max is standing and waiting for you.
“What did you and Daniel talk about?” he asks and if he sounds like he’s demanding, he doesn't mean it.
You stop walking, finally noticing Max's presence. The smile on your face fades a little but it doesn't completely disappear. “Oh, hi? Congrats on the podium today, big guy.”
“What were you and Daniel talking about?” Max asks again.
“‘s not important.”
“I want to know.”
You give Max an odd look, probably questioning why he wants to know so badly. He doesn't know why either. He just wants to know.
“Renault has an open spot in their engineering team,” you finally say, smile growing wide. You’re literally vibrating in excitement as you say it.
Max feels like someone just poured a bucket of iced water over his body.
“Engineer? Why would you even apply in Renault’s engineering team?” he sees your face shift and he wonders if his question is offensive. It does not seem like it is. For Max anyway.
“I’m an engineer, Max,” you're gritting your teeth, Max notices.
Oh, Max realizes. This was why Christian mentioned moving her to the engineering team. He thought you’re going to be their manager or something. Do engineers get managers, too? Max doesn't know.
Max’s world shifts off its axis when he realizes the bigger meaning carried by your words. You want to leave.
“No.”
You make a weird face, “No?”
“No, stay.”
He is perfectly aware that he is in no position to ask this of you. If you want to be an engineer and chase your dreams, you can. No one has the right to stop you. That's your dream. That's your life.
But do you really need to leave?
Suddenly, this becomes like the Daniel situation all over again.
Max isn't sure the exact time you begin holding this much importance over his life that he’s suddenly afraid of your absence. Max still won't consider the two of you friends per se, but he does not want you in Renault. He wants you here, behind him, following him at all times. You don't have to follow Daniel to fucking Renault.
Renault just keeps taking everything from him. First, it’s Daniel, his best friend and teammate. Max will not allow himself to lose you over to Renault and their sucky cars.
“Funny how you think you got a say in this,” you do the thing where you shift your feet lightly so you’re facing Max fully, one hand on your waist while the other rests limp on your side, your head slightly tilts to the right. There's a bulge on your cheek, where your tongue is pressing inside it, and one of your brows is cocked.
“You don't have to go to Renault. You can stay here,” he adds and it almost sounds like he’s pleading.
“And what Max? Let all the money I spent in engineering school go to waste?”
“Do you not want to be my manager anymore?”
“No offense, buddy, but I’ll choose being an engineer.”
Fair point but Max is still hurt anyway. Why are people always leaving him? Is it that hard to choose him and love him? Is he not a good enough reason to stay? Maybe it's because he's not a world champion yet. Maybe it's because he's not someone praiseworthy yet.
“I will win next year. When I become a world champion, I’ll ask Horner to move you to the engineering team.”
Max hopes you believe him.
The 2019 season ends with Lewis Hamilton at the top. Valtteri Bottas is close behind him. After Bottas stands Max Verstappen.
He’ll understand if you're making your application letter to Renault at this very moment. And yet, you come knocking on his hotel door.
“You’re trashin’ the room again,” you say, not ask but say, when Max opens the door and this is like 2018 again when he trashed his entire hotel room for coming in fourth. You even wear the same clothes as last year��a Red Bull polo shirt and a black pencil skirt with the same cream tote bag with peach prints but the shoes are different. “Sour loser much?”
“Fuck you.”
“Fuck you, too,” you reply in a nonchalant tone, not even taking offense that Max has cursed you out. “Lemme see your hands. I have a cold canned beer.”
“I didn't punch the wall.”
Not yet at least. He’s definitely planning to, before you have decided to knock on his door.
“Well then,” you thrust the beer towards him. “Good thing’s beer has multiple purposes. Bruised knuckles? Beer. Bruised ego? Beer.”
Angrily, Max takes the beer in your hands. He really can't deal with you right now.
“Don't worry, man. You’ll be world champion one day. You have the makings of one,” you assure him and your words are too unexpected that Max stiffens. “Not this year but one day.”
“Why can't it be this year?” he asks after a few seconds' pause.
You shrug your shoulders, “Not your time yet, I suppose.”
Then, you turn around and walk away, the loud clicks of your black and gold heels echoing in the hotel hallway until it fades into silence, while Max stands there at the open door, a cold canned beer in his hand.
He’s trying (emphasis on the word trying) to prepare himself snacks so he can eat while sim-racing. It's the off-season right now and his mother and his sister have decided to visit his place in Monaco and stay for a few days before they fly together to Belgium and spend the holidays there. Daniel’s name appears on the notification bar of Max’s phone.
daniel: is [name] in monaco rn or did she go home for the off season
max: why would she be in monaco right now
daniel: she lives there
max: [name] lives in monaco?
daniel: you didn't know??
daniel: she’s been living there since last year
daniel: ever wondered why she comes by our building a lot?
max: how am i supposed to know
daniel: she's your manager
max: well we don't exactly talk about where we live
daniel: i cant believe you
daniel: shes been living there since she was my manager
max: that long???
daniel: i cant with you sometimes
daniel: neways do u have her number?
daniel: i think she got it changed a month ago and i forgot to ask her
daniel: she's not answering my messages in ig
max: yeah yeah i do
daniel: great
daniel: can u call her and ask if she’s in the country?
max: ok
daniel: cool cool
daniel: appreciate it,, man
You answer the phone on the second ring.
“Need anythin’, man?”
When will he hear you call him Max rather than man, dude, bro, big guy, big boy, darlin’ (teasingly), or loser?
“Hi [Name]. I’m calling because, uh, Daniel messaged me,” he begins. “He said you’re not replying to his messages on Instagram.”
“Oh, my bad, my bad. I’ll check it out later, still out playin’ ball right now.”
“He’s asking if you're in Monaco right now.”
“Yeah, yeah, I am. Flight’s still next week. Why’s he askin’?”
“Okay,” he doesn't know what else is there to say. “I didn't even know you live in Monaco.”
“Well, I do,” he hears someone yelling your name. “Aight, anythin’ else you wanna know?”
“Nothing. Nothing else.”
“Okay. Stay safe out there, my guy.”
“You, too.”
The call ends and suddenly, the world feels too silent.
max: yeah she's here
max: she said her flight is scheduled next week
daniel: perfect
daniel: i have her christmas gift with me rn she better be there when i land
daniel: i have to wrap this up on the plane
daniel: do you know how hard it is to gift wrap smth during a flight
Max’s brows furrow. Perhaps he has underestimated the depth of their friendship. They're close enough that they give each other gifts. Or at least, she’s close with Daniel enough that he buys her gifts.
max: safe travels daniel
Daniel arrives a day later, which coincidentally is the same day Sophie, Max’s mother, and Victoria, his sister, landed in Monaco as well. Max’s mother adores Daniel, which is not surprising because everyone adores Daniel.
“Join us for lunch, Daniel,” Sophie invites him. Max and Victoria stand behind her. The three of them are heading out for lunch when they come across Daniel, who is also heading out, at the lobby of the apartment building.
“Sorry, Sophie, but I have an appointment today with [Name],” Daniel scratches his nape and smiles apologetically. Sophie perks up at the mention of [Name].
“Max’s manager?”
“Yes, Max’s manager,” Daniel nods enthusiastically.
“Invite her, too! I’ve always wanted to meet her. She sounds like an amazing girl from what Max has told me.”
Max groans, “Mom, please.”
He may or may not have talked about [Name] during his calls with his mother. Mostly, it's complaints. His mother has laughed at him, used to hee son's constant complaining. Despite that, she still thinks [Name] is good for her son. It's good that someone is able to rein you in when needed, she said.
“Oh, I’m sure she’ll love it. How about I call her and we’ll meet you at the restaurant in a few?” Daniel says.
Everything is settled. Max has reserved a private room for the whole lunch meeting so he can enjoy the privacy of lunch with his family. Less than an hour later, you arrive with Daniel.
Max almost drops the fork when he sees you walking towards them, just a few steps behind the grinning Daniel.
You look different than usual. Max is yet to decide if it's a good type of different or not, because when his eyes land on you, he feels like a thousand elephants have begun a violent rampage in his chest.
You’re not wearing the usual Red Bull polo shirt—perhaps that's why Max feels odd because he’s so used to seeing you wearing it—and instead, you were in a bustier jumpsuit with a white long-sleeved button-up shirt under it.
It looks a little too tight in Max’s opinion, hugging your body in a way that Max thinks you cannot breathe. He can't even breathe when he looks at you right now.
Daniel and you stop in front of the table and Max’s mother stands to kiss you both on the cheek. Max then notices that you’re carrying two bouquets in your hand. Funny how they're so huge and colorful but for some reason, he hasn't noticed them since you walked into the room.
“For you, Ma’am,” you smile as you hand the bouquet to Max’s mother, who gasps in delight. “Welcome to Monaco.”
Then, you turn to Victoria and hand her the other bouquet, “For you, too, Miss Victoria. Welcome to Monaco.”
“Please, have a seat, you two. We’ve already ordered for you," Max's mother says. You and Daniel sit down.
You and Daniel quickly engage in conversation with Max’s mother. Victoria elbows Max, leaning over his ear to whisper, “You have a good manager, Max.”
“You just like her because she got you flowers," Max whispers back.
Victoria chuckles and the Verstappen siblings join in the conversation.
Lunch is a pleasant event. Everyone loves the food. Everyone laughs. Everyone is having a good time. However, good things always come to an end. Daniel has to leave early because he has an appointment. Max is supposed to drive Victoria and his mother to the department store because they planned on shopping together as a family and buy gifts for their relatives in Belgium. But since Daniel left and he was your ride going to the restaurant, that means you have no ride going home.
You insist that you can hail a cab or even walk to your apartment since it’s “just three streets away” but Max notices that your smile looks too forced and Max calls bullshit. Max may not know where you live but he knows you're lying. Thankfully, his mother seems to share the same sentiments and push you towards Max.
“Don't worry, honey. He’s a good driver. You're in safe hands.”
“I’m really fine, Ma’am,” you try again.
“Call me Sophie,” she says, her hand comes up to your shoulder and you flinch a little. “You take good care of Max. It's the least he can do for you. Also, I’m a woman, honey. I know the pain of walking a good distance in heels. Don't subject yourself to that pain.”
You don't protest any further and the four of you hop into Max’s car. Max drives Sophie and Victoria to a department store and drops them off. He kisses his mother’s cheek as they bid a temporary goodbye. Afterwards, he instructs you to type down your address on the GPS so he can drive you to where you live.
When he reads the address you input, he snorts. You whip your head around to give him a dirty look.
“Three streets down,” he says, amused. “Really?”
“Shut up, ‘s just on the other side of the city.”
“It's still far.”
The first few minutes of the drive is silent. You sit on the passenger seat with your earbuds in and legs crossed, leaning most of your weight against the car door so your back posture sort of resembles a person with mild scoliosis. Max hears you hum along the song you’re listening to, your fingers tapping along the rhythm.
Max taps your shoulder. You turn to him, pulling off one of your earbuds.
“Somethin’ wrong?” you ask.
Why do you always assume something's wrong when he calls your attention? Does he really only talk to you when he has a problem?
Max gestures to the AUX, “You can connect your phone to my car.”
You gasp dramatically, a hand pressing on your chest, “You’re givin’ me AUX privilege? Truly honored.”
Max rolls his eyes.
“But I don't think you’ll like what I listen to,” you add.
“Try me.”
El Alfa songs have electrifying and infectious rhythms and Max may not understand the lyrics but not understanding the song lyrics can't stop a person from enjoying a song. El Alfa songs are the type of songs that you’ll hear in parties and in the streets.
“By the way,” Max begins. The song changes into something else—Sofia, the title reads, sung by Alvaro Soler. It's a whole different vibe from the previous song. “Thank you for giving my mum and sister flowers today. That was very thoughtful of you.”
“Just trynna be nice,” you say nonchalantly. “Glad they liked it.”
“Also, you look nice today.”
You slowly turn to him. You have this weird expression on your face like you have an aneurysm but also indigestion and mild stroke.
“Did you eat somethin’ weird at the restaurant?”
“No, I didn't.”
“Then why are you playin’ nice?”
Max rolls his eyes, “I can punch you if you want.”
“Yeah, right, as if you can. Your mother raised you too well to throw hands to the ladies.”
Max closes his mouth.
“See? I’m right,” you continue. “You’ll fight any man on the grid but you won't fight me even though I annoy you every day. You're not like your father, Max.”
Max clears his throat awkwardly. He does not know how to respond to you. You're too… too… honest.
“But thank you,” you say. “Borrowed this from my roomie ‘cuz I don't own any nice clothes.”
You wear branded clothing way too well for someone to think otherwise.
The song switches. Danza Kuduro starts playing. Max knows this one. He watched Fast Five.
Max stops the car outside the apartment building, but instead of hopping off, you rummage through your tote bag—still the cream-colored one with peach prints, it looks so worn down now—and pull out a….it looks like a beaded bracelet but it's not closed on the ends.
“What's this?” he asks when you hand it to him. Red and navy blue beads—the color of Red Bull.
“Consider this as my gift for the holidays. I made Daniel one so it makes sense that I give you one as well.”
Oh. Max blinks at you then glances down at the little thing in his palm. Something warm blooms in Max’s heart.
“That's very thoughtful of you.”
Panic follows. His head snaps up.
“But I haven't bought you anything.”
“That's okay, man,” you smile and open the door. “Thanks a lot for today.”
You step outside and close the door after you before Max can even utter another word. Max watches as you jog inside the building. He shakes his head when you disappear from his vision, hangs the beaded keychain with his keys, and drives back to where he drops his mother and sister off earlier.
Sophie notices the keychain and compliments it. She asks his son if he got into the hobby of creating things out of beads. Max shakes his head and tells her that the keychain is a gift from you.
His mother visibly lights up, “You should get her a gift!”
Max gets into thinking. Yeah, he should.
He meets you a day before your flight to Texas in the lobby of the building where you live. You gave him a keychain. It's only appropriate that he gives you keys. (You don't seem very happy with the gift though for God knows what reason but Max is adamant on giving it to you and will not stop at a no.
“I want you close,” he says, surprised by the sincerity that exited his mouth.
“Well, I don't.” Your words sting a little. Max ignores it.
He ends up giving you a different key. You say the other key is too expensive. Max is not thrilled but it's still a key and this certain key, you accept. So Max is happy.)
Max flies to Belgium a few days after you and celebrates the holidays with his mother's side of the family. He calls your cell in the middle of the night, Belgium is six hours ahead of Texas so Max is sure it's around four in the afternoon from where you are. He does not expect you to answer as quickly as you did.
“Somethin’ wrong?” your voice sounds rough like you’ve been asleep.
“Hi, uhm,” Max clears his throat. He’s a little tipsy right now and his words are flying around in his brain. “Happy holidays.”
There's a pause.
“You called me for that?”
“Can you stop being mean? It's the holidays.”
“Are you drunk?”
“Kinda?”
“Well then,” Max hears a ruffle of sheets and suddenly, he feels bad for waking you up. “Happy holidays to you, too, bud. Appreciate the effort and the money you spent on making this call. International calls are expensive as fuck.”
They're not. At least, Max thinks they're not.
“Can I get your Instagram? The one you use to talk to Daniel?”
“My priv? Why?”
“Because I just want it.”
“Brat. You can’t follow that account usin’ your public account. PR has access to your account and they’ll see my shit. I don't want them to see my shit.”
“Then, I’ll make a private account and we’ll follow each other.”
He hears you sigh.
“You promise not to give PR access to that account?”
“Hm. I promise.”
“Yeah, okay, whatever. Send me the details and I’ll follow you when I wake up, aight?”
Max giggles, “Okay.”
“Anythin’ else?”
“Nothing, nothing.”
“Aight, I’ll continue my nap. You enjoy yourself there.”
“Okay.”
Then, COVID happens.
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