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#max verstappen imagine
vivwritesfics · 2 days
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Work For It
Daniel had turned their girlfriend into a pillow princess. Max needs him to fix it
Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (male receiving), dom!daniel, dom!max, sub!reader, reader gets called a brat, reader gets called a good girl, spitroasting, p in v, cum swallowing
1.6K
Max x reader x daniel
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Daniel had created a monster.
When their relationship had first started, their girl had been as willing to give as she was to take. She'd get on her knees for them, ride them until the sun rose. They'd do the same for her in return, happy to pay to make her as good as she made them feel.
But then Daniel began giving her everything she wanted. All she had to do was pout a little and wrap her arms around his neck. He'd kiss her pouty lips and carry her to their bedroom to bring her pleasure.
Max had to deal with the burden of it. Where Daniel was happy to do anything she asked, Max wasn't. If she wanted him to help her get off, she was going to have to return the favour.
But Daniel had turned her into a princess. A pillow princess. And Max had to do something about it. He couldn't go to her though, not when she knew she had Daniel wrapped round her finger. So, he went directly to the source.
He waited until she was napping (a regular occurrence, since she stayed up with Max most nights) to talk to Daniel.
"She hasn't sucked me off or ridden in weeks, Daniel," Max confessed, his tone hushed.
Daniel shrugged his shoulders. "I'll suck you off," he said.
"Yeah, I know you will," Max snapped, but he quickly regained his composure. "But that's no the point," he said as he laid back against the couch cushions. "She doesn't do anything by lay there. You've turned her into a pillow princess and you need to fix it."
"Okay," Daniel agreed. "You, you're right. I miss seeing her on her knees for us."
Max leaned in and kissed him, an act that was quickly reciprocated. But before Daniel could push his fingers through Max's hair, messing it up, he pulled away. "Besides, if she doesn't go for it, we could always fuck each other, leave her high and dry."
So, it was decided. The next time she went to Daniel, wearing that tempting pout, he'd say no. He wouldn't give into her (but somehow Max doubted that would actually happen).
The next day, while Max was racing on the sim rig, she went to Daniel. As usual, she wore her prettiest pout as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Danny," she whined, pressing her body against his.
As her body moved against him, she felt just how hard he was in his shorts, just from her touch alone. She was going to get everything she wanted, she thought as she bit back her grin, trying to maintain her pout. "I need you," she whispered.
Daniel squeezed her arms around her, but then he gently pushed her away. "Baby, if you want Max and I to fuck you, you're gonna have to earn it."
Her pout only grew. "But Dannyyyy," she whined as she let her fingers trail down his chest, towards his trousers. This time she couldn't hide her grin as she touched his hardening length.
Again, he gently pushed her away. "Go and suck Max off if you want to get off," he said, pointing to the other room, where the rig was.
Her pout turned into a scowl as she turned away from him, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Fine," Daniel called back as she went to stride out of the room. "You can go grumble about it and stay needy, or you can go and give Max a blow job," he said.
That stopped her in her tracks. She momentarily dropped the attitude, threw her head back, and groaned. "Fine," she muttered and took off, walking towards Max as he raced.
As she approached, she knocked on the wall. "Are you streaming?" She asked.
When Max shook his head, she approached and got down onto her knees beside him. She still wore that same scowl as got onto her knees beside him. "Schat, what're you doing?" He asked as she fished him out of his shorts.
"He won't touch me, Maxie, not until I suck you off."
Max smirked as she moved her hand up and down his shaft. He sat back, sat comfortably, went went back to racing. "Better get to work, then."
The scowl returned to her face as she moved closer, taking his cock into her mouth. It had been so long since she had last done this, it was only a matter of moments before her knees began hurting and her jaw started aching.
Plus, Max could tell she wasn't putting her all into it. But he said nothing, just shaking his head as Daniel walked into the room and sat, watching them. "She's got quite an attitude, doesn't she?"
Daniel scoffed, laughing. "She's being a little brat at the minute," he said. "Feel free to fuck her throat if you need to."
She pulled off of Max, releasing him with a pop! She sat back, trying to give her knees a rest. She wiped at her mouth, but she didn't have much time before anything else before Daniel was behind her, holding her head, pushing her back towards Max's cock. "I don't think he said you can stop."
Although he was pushing her, Daniel was still gentle. He eased her onto Max's cock, moving her back and forth. He didn't push her all the way around, didn't push her until she was gagging.
Drool ran down her chin when Daniel finally let go of her. He watched for her a moment as she worked through her aching jaw, hollowing her cheeks. Max moaned, his eyes shut as he bucked his hips towards her. He had long since crashed his virtual car, too distracted by the way she was sucking him.
"Good girl," said Daniel, hooking his fingers around the waistband of her little shorts. When he tugged them down and squeezed her ass, she moaned around Max (which felt like heaven to him).
He let her go just a little longer before touching her more. Her shorts were around her knees as Daniel touched her, felt through her folds. Her eyes were shut and she whined, taking just a moment to feel his fingers.
Max bucked up into her lips and she got to work once again. He patted her head as she moved his lips up and down his shaft. When Daniel touched her clit she jolted forward slightly, but she never released Max from her lips.
She pulled back, swirling her tongue around his tip.
"Do you think she's deserved it?" Asked Daniel as he felt just how wet she was.
"Fuck," Max hissed, steadily rocking his hips into her mouth. "Y-Yeah, she's earnt it," he replied, somewhat shakily. He never wanted it to end.
Daniel certainly agreed. He freed himself from the confines of his shorts and rubbed himself through his folds. He slowly pushed through as she let out a cry.
"You earnt this, baby," he whispered before he thrust into her.
She pulled her mouth away from Max's cock to cry out. "Fuck, Danny!" She cried as she threw her head back.
Daniel thrust into her a few times before stopping. If she wasn't going suck Max off, he wasn't going to fuck her. She let out a whine, grinding back against him. "C'mon, Danny," she said as she turned back to him and pouted.
The pout was really starting to piss him off now. "Get back to it," he said, swatting at her ass.
She returned her lips to Max, swirling her tongue around the tip before taking his entire length down her throat. She worked hard while Daniel fucked her, determined to make Max fuck.
"Oh fuck, fuck," Max cried, his fingers gripping her hair. "I'm close." He tried to pull her off, but she batted his hand away and kept working, until he was spilling his seed into her mouth.
She swallowed all he gave to her and released him from her mouth. Max grabbed her chin, forcing her to look up at him as Daniel fucked her. She opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue, showing that she had swallowed it all. "Wow, princess," Max said, running her thumb over her lips.
Her eyes shut and small whines left her lips and Daniel pounded into her. "Fuck, you should feel her," he grunted as he looked towards Max.
The way she was clenching around him, it had Daniel so close. "Fucking hell." He swatted her ass again and she squeezed him tighter.
"Fuck, Danny, I'm..."
But that was as much warning as she could give him before she was finished, her body convulsing. It took a moment before she stilled, limp body held up by Max and Daniel.
Max ran his fingers through her hair, the feeling so comforting as she came down. Daniel kept going, but his pace as slowed, become sloppy. His grunts filled the apartment before he pulled out of her, spilling onto her back.
He kept a hold of her, keeping her up. Max stood, passing her to Daniel as he want to run a bath for her.
"You did so good, Baby," said Daniel as he wrapped her in his arms. "I'm so proud of you."
She curled into Daniel's hold, her head against his chest as she kissed his skin. "Thank you, Danny," she whispered, running his fingers through his hair. "But, do we have to do that again? I miss you taking care of me."
Daniel's laugh shook his entire body. "Nice try, princess," he said as he picked her up, carrying her to the bathroom.
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hemmingsleclerc · 1 day
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Just saw the video of Nico hulkenberg and kmag daughters getting into the paddock can u write one with Olivia and max and she watches him getting pole 🥺🥺😘
Watching papa win ┃MV1
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The sun beat down on the Miami race track, casting long shadows over the Red Bull Racing garage. Max was next to his blue Formula 1 car, focused and determined. But today, there was an extra sparkle in his eyes as he looked over to where his wife, Y/N, and his seven-year-old daughter, Olivia, stood in the shadows, warmly watching his every move.
Olivia was practically filled with excitement, her little hand gripping her mother's tightly as they looked down the runway. It was a special day for her; the first time she was allowed into the inner sanctum of the garage during a race. She wore a miniature Red Bull Racing cap perched precariously on her head, eyes wide in shock as she watched the flurry of activity around her.
Y/N smiled at her daughter, her own heart racing with anticipation. She looked at Max, who gave her a reassuring nod before putting on his helmet and getting ready to hit the track.
When the race began, Olivia's eyes were glued to the screens that showed the action taking place on the track while she grabbed the headphones made just for her because these were smaller than the others. She cheered loudly as her father made his way through the group, his car was the fastest than the others and sometimes she had a hard time finding it on the screen. With each lap he passed, her excitement grew and her little fists clenched in anticipation.
Then, as the final laps approached, Max made his move, overtaking his closest rival with a daring maneuver that left the crowd in awe. As he crossed the finish line, cheers erupted from the RB garage and Olivia could barely contain herself.
"Mommy, did you see that? Papa won! Papa won!" she exclaimed, jumping up and down with unbridled joy.
Y/N laughed, caught up in her daughter's infectious enthusiasm. "Yes, sweetheart, we saw! Your papa did amazing!"
As cameras snapped to capture the celebrations in the Red Bull garage, they approached Olivia, her face beaming with pride as she clapped and cheered on her father. Max, with his own palpable excitement, rushed to take his daughter into his arms and planted a kiss on her forehead while he held his wife by her waist as the crowd roared in adoration.
"Papa did it, Liv! We did it!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with emotion.
Olivia laughed with joy and put her arms around her father's neck as he carried her to the podium. While Max stood proudly atop the podium, with the winner's trophy held high above his head, Olivia watched with bright eyes and a heart full of pride alongside her mother.
And when the cameras flashed and the crowd erupted in cheers once again, Olivia knew this was a moment she would never forget. For today, she had witnessed her father's triumph firsthand, and nothing could beat the feeling of seeing him win with her own eyes.
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pucksandpower · 3 days
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It’s Only Natural
Max Verstappen x innocent!Reader
Summary: in which Max shows you that it’s okay to want
Warnings: 18+ content
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You sit on the edge of the bed, your hands folded primly in your lap. You watch as Max moves about, discarding his shirt and stepping out of his jeans until he’s down to just his boxers. There’s an easy grace to his movements, like a predatory animal comfortable in its skin.
Your eyes trace over the curves and lines of his body appreciatively before you catch yourself and quickly look away, heat flooding your cheeks. You hear him chuckle.
“See something you like?”
You keep your gaze fixed firmly on the floor. “I wasn’t looking.”
The mattress dips as Max sits beside you. He tilts your chin up. Reluctantly you meet his stare, the grey of his eyes as vivid as the stormy sky.
“It’s okay, you know. To want me.” His thumb brushes over your bottom lip. “We’ve been together for months now. It’s only natural.”
You swallow hard, torn between embarrassment and yearning. “Wanting is … improper. Before marriage.” The words sound weak even to your own ears.
Max smirks. “Who told you that? Your parents? The church?” He leans in close, his breath hot on your ear. “They don’t own your body or your desires. Only you do.”
You shiver at his proximity, inhaling the scent of his skin. Like walking past a bakery first thing in the morning, the aroma of fresh bread wafting out onto the street. Your mouth waters.
“I know you feel it too,” Max murmurs. “This hunger. This heat between us.” His fingers trail down your arm, raising goosebumps in their wake. “Don’t be ashamed of it.”
Your breaths come faster. You’re trembling, but not from the cold. “Max ...”
He silences you with a kiss. His lips are firm yet soft, coaxing rather than demanding. The kiss deepens slowly, each brush of his mouth unraveling you further until you’re clinging to him, dizzy with want.
When you finally break for air, Max gazes at you tenderly. “How do you feel?”
You lick your tingling lips. “I-I don’t know. Confused. Like my body is doing things without my permission.” You press a hand to your heaving chest. “My heart is racing so fast.”
“That’s desire, liefje.” Max strokes your hair soothingly. “It’s new and frightening now, but you’ll get used to it.” He kisses your forehead. “There’s no need to be scared.”
You nod hesitantly. He’s right, this feeling is terrifying in its intensity. But it’s also tantalizing, a thirst you never knew needed quenching.
You take a deep breath. “What happens next?”
Max smiles encouragingly. “That’s up to you. We can take this as slow or as fast as you want. It’s your journey — I’m just your guide.” He lifts your hand to his mouth, kissing your knuckles. “You lead, I’ll follow.”
Reassured, you lean into him. “Kiss me again?”
“With pleasure.”
This time when Max’s lips find yours, you let your instincts take over. Your mouth moves shyly against his at first but grows bolder, mimicking the way he teases your bottom lip, coaxes your tongue. The tender exploration sends pulses of heat coursing through you. You’re lit up from the inside, like a lantern glowing in the dark.
You come up for air again, dizzy and breathless. Max’s eyes are hooded, his own breathing uneven. “How was that?”
You press closer, craving the hardness of his body. “I want more.”
Max grins. “Do you now?”
Before you can respond, he captures your mouth again, kissing you with a passionate urgency that steals your thoughts away. You cling to him as the last of your inhibitions burns up like paper held to a flame.
There is only feeling now — exquisite, terrifying, blissful feeling.
When Max finally releases you, you’re shaking all over. He brushes the hair back from your face tenderly. “Talk to me. How are you?”
You wet your parched lips. “I feel … alive. Awake.” You glance up at him almost shyly. “Thank you for waking me up.”
Max’s expression softens. “You’re welcome.” He lies back on the bed, opening his arms to you. “Come here.”
You curl into him without hesitation, resting your head on his chest. His steady heartbeat grounds you as his fingers trail up and down your back idly. You trace random patterns on his skin, marveling at the way it prickles under your touch.
“Can I ask you something?” You murmur.
“Of course.”
You chew your lip thoughtfully. “How did you know? That I wanted this?”
Max considers the question. “I saw how your body responded to mine, even when you tried to hide it.” His hand slides to your hip, rubbing gentle circles. “I heard how your breathing changed when I got close to you.”
You flush at the knowing tone in his voice.
“Most of all though, I recognized the longing in your eyes.” Max tilts your chin up so you have to meet his earnest gaze. “You and I are the same. Our bodies have needs we can’t ignore.”
You wrinkle your nose. “Is it always this … intense?”
Max laughs. “No, it gets easier. The more you open yourself to pleasure, the less it will overwhelm you.” He plays with a lock of your hair idly. “Think of your desire like a wild horse. Right now it’s bucking and straining at the reins. But with time and training, you’ll be able to ride it smoothly.”
You consider this. “Have you trained your horse well?”
“Very well,” Max says wryly. “We understand each other perfectly.”
You bite your lip. “Will you teach me?”
Max’s eyes darken. For a long moment he just looks at you, desire written plainly across his face. Your own excitement builds under that molten stare.
Finally he nods. “If that’s what you want.” His voice is slightly hoarse now. “We’ll take it slow. One step at a time.”
Your heart flutters wildly. You nod, not trusting yourself to speak.
Max clears his throat. “For now, just try to get comfortable being so close to me. Explore a bit.” His hand trails down your side. “Learn what feels good.”
You arch into his touch instinctively, craving more contact. Your mouths find each other again, hot and seeking. You let your hands wander across the warm planes of his chest, tracing each ridge and valley. When your fingers brush one of his nipples, Max makes a low sound that shoots desire through you like lightning.
You tear your mouth from his, eyes wide. “Did I hurt you?”
“God, no.” Max’s pupils are blown wide, fixed on you intently. “That felt good. Do it again.”
Emboldened, you experiment with touching him the way he touched you, learning which caresses make his breath hitch and muscles tighten. Before long Max is shaking under your hands, his control fraying at the edges.
“Enough,” he growls, grabbing your wrists and pinning them to the bed. “Any more and this lesson will be over far too soon.”
You grin up at him impishly. “Maybe next time then.”
Max groans. “You’re going to be the death of me.” But he’s smiling as he dips his head to kiss you lazily.
When he finally releases your wrists, you wrap your arms around him, enjoying the warmth and solidness of his body. You feel different now — more awake, more alive. Like you’ve stepped through a doorway into a bigger and brighter world.
“Thank you for today,” you whisper, meaning it with your whole heart. “I feel … free.”
Max kisses the top of your head tenderly. “You’ve always been free, schatje. I’m just helping you see it.” He lifts your chin so your eyes meet. “We’ve only just started. There are so many wonders still to show you.”
A thrill races through you at the promise in his voice. You settle against his chest again, listening to the strong, steady beat of his heart as you fall asleep in his arms, unafraid of wanting anymore.
Your body and heart are finally coming home to each other.
***
Morning sun spills through the curtains, rousing you slowly from sleep. The other half of the bed is empty but still warm, and the faint clatter of dishes downstairs means Max is already up and making breakfast.
You stretch languidly, yesterday’s explorations still fresh in your mind. A newfound heat simmers in your veins, sending a flush across your skin.
You find Max in the kitchen, hair charmingly mussed, wearing only pajama bottoms that ride low on his hips. He grins when he sees you.
“Good morning, liefje. Sleep well?”
You come up behind him, sliding your arms around his trim waist. “Mmm I did,” you nuzzle into his bare shoulder. He smells warm and masculine. You press a kiss to his skin, eliciting a pleased hum.
“Keep that up and I’ll burn breakfast,” Max says wryly. He turns in your embrace, fingers tilting your chin up for a slow, simmering kiss. By the time he pulls back you’re breathless and tingling.
“What’s gotten into you today?” He looks delighted.
You bite your lip coyly. “I can’t stop thinking about last night.” You flatten your palms against his chest, feeling his heart pick up speed. “I want to keep learning.”
Max’s eyes darken. For a long moment he just looks at you, desire pooling in his heated gaze. “Finish eating first,” he says finally. “Then meet me upstairs.”
Excitement bubbles through you. You eat breakfast quicker than you ever have before, then hurry to the bedroom where Max awaits, sitting on the edge of the bed. He beckons you over with a crooked smile.
“Eager today, are we?”
You nod, leaning down to initiate a kiss. Max obliges, his mouth warm and seeking against yours. When you move to deepen it further, he gently grasps your shoulders and eases you back.
“Slow down, schatje. We’ve got all the time in the world.” His tone is kind but firm. “Let’s take this lesson nice and easy.”
You duck your head, chastened. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to rush.”
Max tips your chin back up, eyes tender. “It’s okay. I know everything feels new and exciting.” His thumb brushes your bottom lip softly. “But the best pleasures are the ones we savor.”
Heart swelling, you turn your head to press a kiss to his palm. “Teach me?”
Max nods. “Come sit with me.”
You settle beside him on the bed, pulse skipping when he draws you close. His hands glide up your arms, raising goosebumps, before coming to rest lightly around your neck. His touch is reverent, worshipful.
“So beautiful,” he murmurs. “I could spend hours exploring you.”
He kisses behind your ear, along your jawline, each press of his lips languid and unhurried. By the time he reaches your mouth you’re trembling, hyper-aware of everywhere your bodies touch.
Max takes his time kissing you deeply, thumbs sweeping over your throat and down to your collarbones. You lean into him, chasing more of that exquisite friction, but he doesn’t allow you to rush. He pulls back again and again until you relax, surrendering to his pace.
“There you go, just like that,” he praises. “Nice and slow.”
You keen softly when his fingers trail down to trace along the neckline of your shirt, back and forth. He toys with the top button, watching your face attentively.
“Tell me if you want me to stop.”
“Don’t stop,” you breathe.
Max smiles and pops the first button open. Then he pauses, bending to kiss the new inch of exposed skin. Goosebumps prickle across your chest as he continues his unhurried path downward, kissing each new glimpse of flesh laid bare.
By the time he reaches the last button you’re trembling violently, head tipped back in bliss. Max’s strong hands sweep up your sides and around to unclasp your bra. You gasp as the garment falls away, leaving you bare before him.
Reverently he cups your breasts, thumbs sweeping over your tightened peaks. The sensation wrings a desperate moan from you.
“You’re exquisite,” Max marvels. He bends to take one nipple into his mouth and your vision goes white, senses overwhelmed by slick heat. He suckles you gently, littering kisses across your fevered skin until you’re writhing mindlessly against him.
“Max, please ...”
He kisses his way back up to your mouth, face alight with tenderness and desire. “What do you need?”
You clutch his shoulders, nearly sobbing. “You. I need you.”
Max groans, deepening the kiss until you’re drunk on him, on this feeling. His body shifts, pressing you down into the mattress, and you go willingly, eagerly.
“Not yet, liefje.” With monumental effort he stills, pulling back to look at you. His eyes are dark, lips kiss-swollen. “Is this too much?”
You shake your head desperately. “Don’t stop. Show me everything.”
Max hesitates, muscles corded with restraint. “Next time,” he grits out. “I want our first to be perfect.”
He rolls off you and you whimper at the loss of contact. Max gathers you close, stroking your hair as you slowly come down from your near-high.
“You were incredible,” he murmurs. “So receptive. So passionate.”
You cling to him, heart still pounding. “I want you so much it hurts.”
Max tips your chin up, gazing at you solemnly. “I know. And you’ll have me, I promise.” He kisses you sweetly. “But forcing things too soon will only dull the pleasure later.”
You know he’s right. With great effort you tamp down the fever in your blood, focusing on the warmth and strength of his embrace.
“Thank you for stopping,” you whisper. “I know it wasn’t easy.”
Max smiles wryly. “You have no idea.” He caresses your face tenderly. “But your pleasure means more to me than my own.”
You lick your suddenly parched lips. “I’m ready,” you say simply. “Whenever you think the time is right.”
Max’s eyes darken. For a long moment he just looks at you, stripped bare by yearning. Then he nods slowly. “Soon.”
***
The next few days pass in a haze of stolen kisses and wandering hands. Each touch stokes the fire between you higher, until you’re dizzy with anticipation.
When Max finally whispers that you’re ready, that tonight will be the night, you can scarcely breathe for excitement. He takes you upstairs after dinner, kissing you deeply before leaving to run you a bath.
“Make yourself comfortable, I’ll be right back.”
You change into the lacy lingerie set you bought just for this occasion, hands trembling. The ivory silk and lace hugs your curves perfectly, making you feel delicate and desired.
Max returns to find you sitting primly on the bed, heart in your throat. His eyes widen, traveling appreciatively over you.
“You’re a vision,” he murmurs. He sits beside you, hand coming up to caress the line of your throat, tantalizingly close to the swells of your barely concealed breasts. “I’m the luckiest man in the world.”
He kisses you, slow and deep, until you’re breathing hard. With gentle hands he undresses you, lips following the path of revealed skin. By the time the lingerie slips to the floor, you’re trembling and ready.
Max rises gracefully from the bed, shedding his own clothes. The hunger in his eyes steals your breath away. He’s beautiful like this, powerful muscle and taut sinew under smooth skin. Your apprehension melts into awed desire.
“Come,” he says simply, holding out a hand.
He leads you into the bathroom where rose petals float across steaming water. Candles line the counter, filling the air with a soft glow.
Max helps you into the tub before sliding in behind you. You sigh, relaxing back against his chest. For a while he just holds you, lips grazing your temple, your cheek, the curve of your shoulder.
“Are you nervous?” He asks eventually. His breath tickles your ear.
“A little,” you admit. “Mostly just excited.” You cover his hands with your own, drawing them around to span your stomach. “I’m ready for you to have all of me.”
Max nuzzles into the crook of your neck. “You honor me.” His palms glide higher, cupping your breasts as his thumbs tease your nipples. You arch into the caress, lips parting in bliss. He kisses down the slope of your neck until you’re mindless, head falling back onto his shoulder.
“Max ...” His name catches on a moan.
He kisses just beneath your ear. “Tell me what you need, schatje.”
You take one of his hands, guiding it lower beneath the water. Max exhales harshly when you press his fingers between your legs.
“Please,” you beg softly.
Max complies, caressing you in unhurried circles. The slick glide of his fingers has you shaking, pulsing against his hand. He works you higher with gentle expertise until your climax crashes over you like a wave. You cry out, collapsing limply back against him.
Max holds you through the aftershocks, murmuring praise and adoration. As you float back down he washes you tenderly, hands worshipping every inch of your spent body. By the time he helps you from the bath your nerves have melted away, replaced only by bliss.
Max dries you off before scooping you up and carrying you to bed. He lays you down reverently and you reach for him, needing to feel him against you.
He goes willingly, covering your body with his, all heated skin and taut muscle. You revel in the delicious weight of him, the intimacy of full-body contact. Max kisses you deeply, one hand trailing down to lift your knee, opening you up to him.
He pulls back just far enough to meet your eyes. “Are you sure?” His voice resonates with restraint.
“Yes,” you whisper. “Please, Max.”
He kisses you sweetly as he finally, carefully, joins your bodies. You gasp into his mouth at the feeling of him filling you so exquisitely. For a moment you’re frozen, overwhelmed by the intensity.
Max stills, letting you adjust. “Talk to me, liefje.” His voice is tight. “Does it hurt?”
You run your hands up his back, grounding yourself in the solidness of him. “No. It just feels … big.” You shift your hips experimentally and have to stifle a moan. “But so good.”
Max relaxes slightly, some of the tension leaving his frame. “We’ll take this slow.” He kisses across your cheekbones, your fluttering eyelids, soothing you as your body adjusts to accommodate him. “Just breathe. There’s no rush.”
When you finally nod for him to move, he rocks into you in achingly gradual strokes. Each glide lights you up from within, pleasure swelling inexorably. Your legs come up to wrap around his waist, taking him deeper.
Max groans. “You feel incredible.” He quickens just slightly, just enough to wring gasps from you both. “So perfect for me.”
You cling to him, this man you love beyond reason, beyond promise. He fills you in every way, heart, body and soul. “Max,” you breathe against his lips like a prayer, and his pace stutters.
“Say it again.” His eyes are molten, searing into yours.
“Max.” You pour every ounce of love and devotion you feel into his name.
With a ragged moan he claims your mouth, kissing you fiercely even as his hips snap against yours. You cry out, senses flooded by him, by the feeling of your bodies joining so exquisitely. The pleasure crests unbearably high before you shatter, clenching and shuddering around him.
Max follows you over with a harsh groan, chest heaving against yours. For an eternity all you know is each other, breathing as one.
Max rolls to the side so he doesn’t crush you, pulling you along so you stay cradled against him. You cling tightly, still joined, overwhelmed by what you’ve just shared.
Max tilts your chin up, eyes tender but concerned. “Are you alright?”
You smile shakily, smoothing back his sweat-damp hair. “I’m perfect.” You press soft kisses across his face. “That was … everything.”
Relief breaks across his face. He wraps you in his arms, tucking your head under his chin. “I love you,” he whispers into your hair. “Beyond anything.”
You snuggle closer, basking in the warmth of his embrace, the steadiness of his heart. “I love you too. Forever.”
Eventually Max slips from your body and you mourn the loss, even as exhaustion tugs at you. He cleans you gently with a warm cloth before pulling you against him once more.
You drift toward sleep, lulled by the soothing strokes of his fingers through your hair. Just before slumber takes you, Max presses his lips to your temple.
“Thank you for your gift tonight,” he breathes. “I’ll spend my whole life trying to be worthy of it.”
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archiverstappen · 11 hours
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appendix touch ✧ max verstappen
max verstappen x ferrari! fem! reader
masterlist
the beloved ferrari heiress just had her appendix removed, and now the whole world is convinced that she's going to start an epidemic
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yn_ferrari
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yn_ferrari I understand that, without my agreement, my father has put out an instagram story this afternoon that makes it seem like I’m dying. This is true, I do feel like I’m dying. I’m having my appendix removed.
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maxverstappen1 Will get that win for you 💙
↳ yn_ferrari no, thanks ❤️
↳ papaferrari Please let Carlos/Charles win for Y/N’s faster recovery 😊
username SHE’S SO UNSERIOUS 😭
oscarpiastri 🤨
↳ yn_ferrari poet of the century
alex_albon Been there, done that
↳ yn_ferrari teach me your ways, master
username THANK GOD IT’S JUST AN APPENDIX
username get well soon mother
carlossainz55 Get well soon, mi hermana 😂
↳ yn_ferrari soy lago
↳ landonorris stop copying me 😒
charles_leclerc Fake 🤭
↳ yn_ferrari i’ll pinch your appendix with my bare hands so you’d know how it feels
↳ alexandrasaintmleux 😨
↳ yn_ferrari look away, my love 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩
scuderiaferrari Get well soon, Boss ❤️
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scuderiaferrari
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scuderiaferrari Patient 0, Patient 1, and Charles 😄 The gang is finally back in a land down under 🦘
tagged yn_ferrari, carlossainz55, charles_leclerc
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username Y/N YOU BETTER STAY AWAY FROM CHARLES 😭
papaferrari My children 🧒🧒🧒
username favorite trio ever
username the fact that we won't be seeing them together again next year 😞
yn_ferrari admin... what's with the caption? 🙂
↳ scuderiaferrari Hi boss, please don't fire me
charles_leclerc I'm a survivor ❤️‍🩹
↳ yn_ferrari you're next 👹
↳ papaferrari Don't say that kind of thing, I can't have all of my children go through the same surgery three weeks in a row
↳ charles_leclerc 🤪🤪🤪 yn_ferrari
↳ carlossainz55 We'll try again next time yn_ferrari
username she's got that appendix touch, because every appendix that she touches starts to burst 🤷‍♀️
↳ yn_ferrari HELP 💀
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yn_ferrari
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yn_ferrari beyond proud of what you guys achieved today, words can't describe how i feel! and no, contrary to popular belief i had nothing to do with max's dnf ��‍💨
ps. someone said i've got the appendix touch, soo... if you're interested just hit me up
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maxverstappen1 🙍‍♂️
maxverstappen1 Enjoy it while it lasts, Schat 😑
↳ yn_ferrari I will 😽
redbullracing You're temporarily banned from our garage🙏
↳ yn_ferrari I DIDNT DO ANYTHING?!
↳ redbullracing A source spotted you touching the rear wing of Max's car 💔
↳ yn_ferrari THAT'S A LIE.... scuderiaferrari STEP UP?
↳ scuderiaferrari Sorry, we're too focused on celebrating P1 and P2
↳ mercedesamgf1 Wow, can't relate scuderiaferrari
username why is there a video of you running down the pitlane after race, pls explain 😭
↳ yn_ferrari i was watching the race with max at red bull’s hospitality 🏃‍♀️💨
carlossainz55 Us 1 - Appendicitis 0 🍾
↳ yn_ferrari yes sir 🫡
charles_leclerc Can I have my appendix removed too? papaferrari
↳ papaferrari No
landonorris Do mine next, I need to win
alex_albon Can I have my appendix removed again?
↳ yn_ferrari control your man lilymhe 😭
↳ lilymhe bffr ��
username FORZA FERRARI SIEMPRE
↳ yn_ferrari rrrAAAGHHHH 🐎🐎🐎🐎🐎🐎🐎
scuderiaferrari We're so happy, our appendix literally burst 🥹
↳ username new merch idea?
↳ scuderiaferrari Noted 📝
papaferrari Dinner on me tonight 😎 carlossainz55 charles_leclerc
↳ charles_leclerc Finally
↳ carlossainz55 On my way!
↳ maxverstappen1 Can I come too?
↳ papaferrari I guess so, Y/N would be mad if I didn't invite you
↳ charles_leclerc Max got a pity invite 🤭
↳ yn_ferrari KEEP MY BOYFRIEND'S NAME OUT OF YOUR F-ING MOUTH
↳ lewishamilton Can i come? 🤔
↳ carlossainz55 My wound is still fresh...
↳ yn_ferrari LET HIM HAVE THIS ONE, SIR. WE'LL SEE YOU NEXT YEAR 🤗
--
pictures (c) to pinterest and instagram
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Behind Closed Doors - Max Verstappen
Dark fic - if you don't like this or the warnings/themes make you uncomfortable. I can't stress this enough, DO NOT READ THIS
Summary: Max has a secret girlfriend, she might not have been happy about it at first but she'll warm up to him. He just has to keep how he got into the relationship secret. Or he'd lose everything, including her.
Theme/warnings: Abduction, stockholm syndrome, smut (dub con kind of, she's initially asleep but never attempts to stop him), manipulation
No part 2 requests please - Also bc of this not being my usual content I haven't put the taglist on just incase someone who usually reads my fics would rather not read darker content
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There's perks to being a millionaire. Perks to the power that comes with being Max Verstappen.
Including facilitating the kidnapping of the young woman lying in his bed right now.
She looks so peaceful. So perfect.
Y/n has been with him for a couple days and she is never happy to wake up to him. But he can see he's slowly breaking her down by actually treating her with love and care.
It's just...he's forcing her to accept that love and care.
He isn't silly. He did everything he needed to in order to make sure she quit her job, by emailing her boss her notice. Thankfully she doesn't see her family much anywhere so sending them small messages here and there was enough for them to not be a bother.
Y/n finally wakes up and immediately looks to check, then practically sighing in defeat when she looks at Max. She seems to wake up every morning wishing it was all just a horrible dream.
"Good morning, beautiful." Max smiles while she just keeps herself quiet for a few beats seeming to consider her words and actions carefully.
"Morning." Y/n mumbles before she finds herself pulled over into a hug and his lips press to her cheek.
Her body tries to fight off the fact she's feeling a lot of comfort from the close proximity but eventually her body can't fight it, relaxing down against him.
"Are you hungry?" Max asks softly making her swallow.
She'd tried a hungry strike, but Max very quickly managed to get her to eat and he wouldn't even say it really took much effort. He just got her what happened to be her favourite meal and that quickly proved to get her to cave into her hunger.
"Not right now." Y/n mumbles earning a nod.
One thing Max wouldn't admit to anyone but himself, y/n is hard to read. She masks her thoughts well and while it annoys Max, he's still on a mission to change her thoughts about this. To make her see how good she has it with him.
He's breaking her down and making progress. It's not going to be long before she's lost her fight and succumb to his advances. Then they can be really genuinely happy.
-
Y/n sits sitting with Max's cats who have taken to loving on her about as quick as Max has. She is sitting at the locked door of the balcony.
It's been a couple weeks now.
Summer break for Max is almost over and she's actually a little fearful to ask what will happen when it comes to him leaving for the races. Some of them he can't just leave her there.
"What are you thinking?" Max asks suddenly but she doesn't turn to face him, just keeping her gaze trained outside on the sunny outdoors.
"Are you leaving me when you go to races?"
"Planning your escape?" Max jokes making her finally turn.
"No." Y/n admits and actually she's really not, but she even seems nervous about admitting that. Teeth chewing on her bottom lip like chewing gum.
Max can't even help the twitch of a smirk on his lips as he moves over and crouches down, finger hooking under her chin as he looks at her, eyes invading her soul with his gaze.
"Do you want me to leave you?"
"No." Y/n swallows almost feeling hypnotised as he speaks.
She can feel her heart absolutely pounding in her chest as she tilts her head up more when he leans in and closes the space between them, his lips pressing to her own.
She doesn't realise it's a test, seeing what her reaction is. Disgust, fear, or compliance?
When she kisses him back, not flinching from it or even fighting it for maybe more than a slight hesitation before she moves her lips to match his own. Max breaks the kiss feeling there's certainly progress made but he's not stupid. He's also not taking a risk that y/n could easily use as a means of escape even with her willing to kiss him and denying the suggestion.
"You'll have to stay here for the next race. If you're good and don't cause any trouble. Maybe I'll think about bringing you to Monza." Max lies. He won't be, that's still too soon and he thinks that leaving her alone might be the finally nail in the coffin to her breaking point of completely accepting her fate.
He'll probably decide after Monza to see how he feels about taking her to Baku. Testing the waters with Singapore might be the best option.
"If you prove I can trust you to not be difficult while I'm gone. Then I'll consider you coming with me."
Y/n wants to argue that she's been good.
"You'll have the cats. They love you." Max smiles making her look down at the cats who are basking in the warmth of the sun through the window. Their silky coats glimmering under the rays shining down on them.
"I thought you loved me." Y/n mumbles then biting her lip.
That has got to be a new low. She sounded pathetically needy but there's something chilling about the thought of being left locked away by Max while he's away.
"I do love you. Why else would you be here if I didn't?" Max smiles hooking another finger under her chin and kissing her again which he is happy to feel her returning the gesture of. "I'll make sure there's plenty of food and you'll be completely fine. It will be a few days and you can watch me on the TV."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, of course." Max nods with a smile then sighing as he finally sits down. "I wouldn't watch you watching something else when you could be watching me."
Y/n nods obediently to his words then somewhat leaning over to him, resting against him as they sit in the sun.
-
Max had left for his home race, and he kept to his word making sure the fridge and cupboards were fully stocked with all the food she could think of wanting.
And she did watch Max in the race with the cats laid with her on the sofa. Despite her efforts to keep herself busy there was a longing whenever she saw Max on screen. She wants him there.
But she shouldn't want him there. Logic, common sense, rationality, it all tells her that she shouldn't want the man there.
Not that any of that changes the truth.
That y/n misses Max.
Being left on her own for days, locked away is going to sure be justification for feeling like this and she knows he's her only chance at not being alone anymore.
It doesn't help that he didn't tell her that when he'd be back. He didn't even tell her when he'd be back after the weekend. Not an idea of what day or time.
He actually returns while she's asleep, having left for the airport as soon as the debrief was done. Having his jet at the ready to leave for Nice within a couple hours of the race finish.
He returns to find her laid out on his bed, the tv on in the background as she sleeps. She's only in a t-shirt and her body is so exposed, having been away from her for days and not having ever actually had even the smallest taste of her. His self-control is wavering.
Taking off the thick of his layers of clothing, he leaves himself in his boxers and creeps up onto the bed, gently pushing up the t-shirt to expose her stomach.
Y/n's not wearing underwear, and positioning himself between her legs. Max can see her in all her glory and she looks needy and neglected. At least that's how Max sees it since he knows she's had no sexual attention from a man for weeks now.
A sudden thought of another man being the last to have fucked her makes his heart rate pick up and that cements what he's about to do.
As soon as he licks his tongue over her hole up to her clit, there's a gasp and her body jumps at the sudden pressure. He does even bother to check if she's woken up before he dives in, eating her out like a starved man.
Y/n wakes with a start at the feeling and a moan escaping her own lips before she pants desperately.
"M-Max?" Y/n chokes out, groggy and unsure of if this is really happening or not.
Not that Max replies with any words.
He wants to give her an orgasm but the overwhelming need to be inside her trumps the need to aim for multiple orgasms. He'll tackle that another time. For now she's slick enough that there shouldn't be so much issue in getting inside her.
"Max." Y/n mumbles as he moves up pushing his boxers down and teasing the tip at her pussy before pushing into her. Sliding smoothly into her while she groans at the feeling.
She's tight, and maybe understandably tense from still not being sure entirely what's happening.
"Fuck." Y/n whines as he pushes till he's fully seated in her heat. "Don't stop."
And Max doesn't need to be told twice for that. He withdraws from her before pushing back in setting a pace that is feeding some primal need that he's really never felt before.
His grip on y/n's waist tightens giving him complete control as he almost mercilessly pounds into her. Her moans and fists clutching at the sheets being enough for him to know she's taking pleasure from rough sex. Noted for future reference.
His pubic bone is knocking her clit just right and she's feel her body build up with tension and heat as she nears her own orgasm. One particularly nudge at her g-spot sends her over the edge and he continues thrusting into her through her twitching and tightening around him, impossibly tight before he finally spills into her. His heavy pants while she presses herself back on the bed.
Y/n swallows thickly before she just holds herself there. Her body sticky and she's looking at Max with hooded eyes as he slowly eases out of her, the cringe on her face giving away that the slight rougher treatment after going untouched for however long.
He'll just have to make sure she doesn't go too long again.
"Are you ok?" Max asks softly pulling his gaze up from seeing his cum leak out of her onto the sheets.
"Yeah....just a bit sore." Y/n nods biting her lip.
To say the least she looks disheveled and a little dazed.
"I would ask if you enjoyed that but I think I have all the proof I need." Max smiles then looking at her for a moment. "How was your time on your own?"
Y/n swallows, she assumed Max may have been watching her. She suspected he may have cameras. Whether they usually act as just securities cameras or not, they were certainly watching her. She just doesn't know where they are.
Of course she's right, Max was always able to check in on her when he had the chance.
"...Can I come with you for the next race?" Y/n mumbles making Max look at her with an expression which certainly feels like he's about to deny her. "Please. Please. I'll be good. I promise. I swear. I'll not even talk, you-you can pretend I'm mute."
Begging and promising to "be good" to the man who kidnapped her just so she can get be with him and not alone might be a new low.
"I'll think about it." Max states letting his gaze flick back down to her pussy. "Come on, let's get cleaned up."
-
Y/n didn't end up going to Monza.
Max decided that it would only benefit him more if she was so openly needy with him after being left for the Dutch GP. By the time he came back from Monza, y/n practically wouldn't leave his side and she was almost holding onto Max the whole time.
So finally he decided she'd be joining him for Singapore.
Her appearance is a surprise to everyone. Literally everyone. No one in Red Bull knew about a girl in his life, no one had a whiff of a rumour of a woman in his life. The team, the fans, the media and the rest of the paddock were all shocked when they saw Max appear with a timid looking y/n by his side.
"Max...who is this?" Daniel questions catching the champion as he stands in conversation with Lando and Oscar. "Where have you had her hidden away?"
Y/n unintentionally tightens her grip on Max's hand but it's not noticeable to the other drivers who seem in awe of seeing her with Max.
"This is y/n, she used to work for one of the sponsors." Max explains earning small intrigued nods. "You can talk y/n." He plays it off as a joke, chuckling which earns smiles from the other drivers.
"Sorry, hi. It's nice to meet you all. It's cool actually. Meeting you and not just watching you on a screen." Y/n states since Max said she doesn't actually have to pretend to be mute.
"Well it's always fun. Make the most of it." Lando smiles looking her up and down, which makes her smile a little awkwardly while Max frowns at him.
"We need to get moving. See you boys on track." Max grumbles looking very much annoyed at the fact he just watched Lando check y/n out.
The rest say their goodbyes before she is pulled along with him to the Red Bull unit. Y/n swallows as she follows him all the way to his driver's room.
Max has been torn about where he wants her to sit while he is out doing media or if he wants her as close as possible so he can keep as close an eye on her.
"What do you think? Can I trust you to come around with me, or should I keep you in here?" Max asks, obviously his question is rhetorical. Her answer won't influence his decision. So she doesn't bother. "If you can behave you can come around with me. We don't do a lot of media so it should be alright."
"Really?" Y/n smiles perking up a little. "I'd rather stay with you than be on my own anyway."
"Good." That's exactly what he wants her to say and he's trusting that she's not just saying it.
He's gotten better at reading her emotion, or maybe she's just gotten worse at hiding it as she's been broken down in her isolation and desperation for Max to let her out from his apartment.
She also just sort of, doesn't feel that urgent need to not be near him anymore. Pushing him away is a foreign though and concept by this point. In fact, things have shifted with Max's presence and how it effects her. She feels safe, his kisses make her feel intoxicated with a need for more of him.
Y/n moves closer, smiling as she looks up at Max. She has gained some confidence with him.
"So what do you do on Thursdays if you're not in the car?" Y/n asks making Max smile as his hands hold her waist.
"Media stuff, we do some stuff for fans on stage. Just talk, answer some questions. Nothing too exciting." Max states earning a nod. "So long as you keep behaving and don't say anything you shouldn't. This is going to go well for you."
He sounds sweet with his voice but the intention behind his voice speaks for itself. Things might be going well, but he's not going to fail to remind her that she is still on thin ice with trust. One wrong move, saying one thing wrong that might raise alarm with someone else is not a wise move. Even if it's accidental.
She's sure she'll be handcuffed to the bed and left there while he is busy as a means of making sure she can't possibly do anything else wrong out of his control.
Y/n just smiles lightly trying to hide her nerves, but Max sees the emotions behind her eyes and he'd be lying if he said he felt no satisfaction in still having the power. He never wants to lose the ability to make her fear him, purely as a means of making sure she never feels like she can leave him.
"Did I tell you how much I like this dress?" Max asks brushing a hand up her inner thigh after raising the hem.
She's only in a silky white slip dress which just about hits her mid-thigh in length and the back is exposed with just a tied string to give it some structure.
"I want you to stay away from the other drivers when I'm not with you." Max states as she feels his fingers pushing the thin and flimsy material of her thong out the way as he teases her as she looks up at him for a moment before dropping her head with a gasp as his finger plunges into her. "Do you understand?"
"Yes." Y/n whimpers before almost pouting when he pulls his fingers back from inside her.
He doesn't even say anything as he moves her to bend of the table in his room. Pressing her upper body down against the cool surface as she feels her dress flip up and he's thrust into her with no need for warning because just the teasing of his fingers and his touch was enough for her to feel more than ready for him.
"You need to stay quiet. Wouldn't want someone hearing you." Max states making her whimper and actually move her hand over her mouth.
This angle is letting him poke at her g-spot with scary precision and she's not even certain he's meaning to. Usually he'll somewhat rely on her clit, but honestly this time with this angle and maybe the thrill of being at his place of work. There's something just pushing her quickly to an orgasm.
Neither of them last long, her tummy tensing before her whole body tries to fight through the orgasm which almost feels like she's trying to push him out rather than suck him in. Not that he lets up, in fact he gets more brutal absolutely pounding into her, picking up her upper body while extending her spasming orgasm around him.
Her hand has fallen from her mouth which has dropped open a little and the beginnings of a loud moan makes his hand clap up and over her mouth, blocking the noise as he slams into her a couple more times then spills his cum into her, so much so that it leaks out around his dick held deep inside her.
He doesn't move them for a moment before he rubs her waist for a moment then returning her to lie her upper body down. Her lips let a small whimper pass at the feel of this angle pushing against her g-spot yet again. But he slowly pulls out taking a moment to appreciate the view before he scoops some of his cum leaking from her onto his fingers.
"Open your mouth, baby." Max instructs, knowing she'll do what she's told he reaches his hand around to her face and pokes his fingers between her lips. The obedience he's perfectly instilled into her meaning she sucks the warm cum from his fingers before he feels it cleans from his skin and pulls his hand back. "Don't move. I need to clean you up."
And she doesn't she lies there just waiting.
Max can definitely get used to this and he's certain there's been enough damage to her that he has got her exactly the way he wants her. She's been moulded into the exact girlfriend he wanted her to be from the moment he saw her and knew he'd make her his.
Was it the most morally righteous method of getting a girlfriend? No.
But did he get exactly what he wanted and will he change anything? Yes he did, and no he won't.
Y/n will be his and only his and she's never ever getting away from him. If she plays up, she'll be back in Monaco locked in that apartment for as long as he deems necessary.
But he has a feeling she's learned that her place is by his side or waiting for him so she can be by his side again.
Max cleans her up and smiles as she seems to try and readjust everything making sure her hair is tidy and her dress doesn't look creased or sitting wrong.
"You look beautiful."
"Thank you."
"Try to keep to yourself. I don't want you talking to drivers, but really I'd rather you didn't talk to anyone much. Avoid talking too much." Max states watching her smile waver as he sighs gently moving his hand down from cupping her face to holding her around her throat with some light pressure. "Just because I trust you to come with me and not cause trouble. Doesn't mean that you're free to do whatever you want. You get my permission to do anything. I don't want to see you talking to people."
"Ok." Y/n nods though only slightly thanks to his hand at her neck.
"I do this because I love you, y/n."
"I love you too, Max." Y/n smiles, because despite being scared of the man. Hearing those three words brings an annoying effective warmth throughout her body.
He uses the hold on her neck to pull her forward slightly kissing her heavily, his possessiveness communicated perfectly. And his warning will stay with her.
Max is the one in control. He's got the power between them and he'll use it if she doesn't live by his rules.
He literally kidnapped her and he's got away with it and now, she says she loves him without an ounce of doubt in her body even when he makes clear threats to her.
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nostappen · 1 day
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LET ME BE THE LIGHTER | MV #CH8
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series summary : max raced knowing he’d win. You raced as if you had nothing else to lose. That was something the fans of F1 had grown accustomed to since you joined. Being the only driver who could truly make the Max Verstappen break a sweat during this season, all the odds seemed to be in your favor during one eventful race where you could finally overtake him on the last few laps, breaking his winning streak and also —by consequence — yours and his peace in the near future.
warnings (contains spoilers) : angst, media hate, bad comments, slut shaming, shaming in general, men being disgusting, allusions to anxiety, brief mention of past trauma and bad parental figures, swearing. possible erros in the sns part (not edited).
↻ links : prev . masterlist . next
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CHAPTER EIGHT # PICKING UP YOUR PIECES
Under complete discretion, you wandered across the paddock disguised as a staff member from Mercedes, accompanied by some members of your team. 
You successfully avoided reporters and the fans crowding the main entrance of the place by jumping a fence near the garages with the help of Susie, then talked amicably your entire way to your spot with her and were received by some people with your clothes for the day. Hiding under some black Mercedes shirt, a pair of washed-off jeans, and one cap, you felt nearly invincible against the cameras. 
No one truly expected you to be on the grid after many days of missing preparations for the races and two out of the three practices, yet here you were, in your planned disguise, fully knowing no one would pay you any mind since you never wore Mercedes attire unless it was race day and you absolutely had to wear a suit.
“Be honest, I look ugly, right?” You say admiring your reflection in the small mirror Max reluctantly holds up for you. 
He, much like you, is here hanging under complete discretion. 
Verstappen is supposed to be in his garage going over some items for the third practice, yet he sprinted to your spot the second he found out you were here. You promised to give him some food you cooked for him and your friends, so he stayed around for longer than expected under the excuse of being hungry and bored out of his mind. 
“I mean…” He shrugs, moving his shoulders up and down and getting your reflection out of the frame, causing you to groan in annoyance. “No, no, listen.” He quickly lowers the mirror and attempts to save himself from some possible complaining. “It’s not like you look ugly. You cannot look ugly, even if you tried, but the Mercedes fit is a bit…” 
“So, you think I’m pretty.” You smile and raise up his arm so you can take a good look at yourself again. “I knew it. I knew your way of flirting was teasing and being an ass, just like those stupid kids on kindergarden.” 
“What?” He frowns and sees you doing a little twirl before accommodating your Mercedes cap backward.
“You know, when you were a kid and liked another classmate so you pushed their buttons until they caught onto your weird flirting.” 
“I never did that.” He lowers the mirror and you groan at him again. “What, woman? Just go to a bathroom if you wanna stare at your reflection so badly.” 
He feigns annoyance but his small smile gives him away in this situation. The more irritated you grow, the less tense he acts around you, and you cannot help but follow in his banter just to see him more relaxed around you. 
Truth be told, you had invited him to hangout just to test the waters after your serious talk in your house. 
He had texted you for the first two days, updating you about things you didn’t ask for, and you appreciated his attempts at maintaining a civil conversation through the phone. You could tell he was really trying to get on your good side and make this more bearable, and you wanted to give him the same reassurance by replying to all of his texts and even adding some updates from your side as well, even if you didn’t have much to say. 
Sometimes he’d ask at different hours of the day what you were up to, and you’d reply saying you took a few pictures around the place or were binge-watching some shows on the TV. Then he’d tell you about his car or some things he saw on the paddock, and you’d keep the conversation going for a few more minutes until he had to leave to help around with some members of the staff, and when he returned, he’d ask how you were feeling and how was the TV show, or ask you to share some of the pictures you took. 
It made things easier  and you could tell it helped Max to bond a bit with you, so you never attempted to call him or invite him over in his free time, because you believed he needed to take smaller steps first and then truly approach you in a friendlier manner; but there was also a possibility that he only wanted to keep your relations professional and he was treating you amicably because you had attempted to understand him despite the things he did to you, so you didn’t push it too hard. 
You weren’t sure about Max’s intentions and that was alright with you. As long as he didn’t backtrack on his words or hurt you in any way, you’d let things flow between you two. 
“I’m not going anywhere. Carlos will arrive any minute now and I want to be here to greet him,” your hand goes back to his wrist, raising his arm again and this time you observe your face, touching multiple spots you don’t like before frowning. “I like my face.” 
“You don’t sound so convinced…” Max replies with his eyes fixated on you. “Why aren’t you convinced?” 
“I mean, I do like how I look but sometimes I look at myself too intensely and I no longer like what I see. It’s whatever though, whenever that happens I just remind myself I like what I see and hope I believe my words.” 
“Well, I like your face,” he finally puts the mirror on a free spot next to him and makes an extra effort to maintain eye contact after admitting that. A cheeky smile forms on your face and you bop his nose cutely before giggling. “Never, ever, do that again.” 
“What? This?” You bop his nose again and he grabs your finger before you can retreat it completely, lowering it to his mouth before attempting to touch it with the tip of his tongue. “No, ew! Fuck off, Max Emilian. Fucking shit,” you frown, wiping your finger on your jeans. “You are disgusting.” 
Max smiles, entertained with your over the top reaction, and holds both hands up in defense. “You are disgusting too.” 
“How can you like my face if you find me disgusting?” You press him and a pair of arms wraps under your torso, making you yelp before someone rests his chin on top of your head. “Carlos?” 
“Yeah, and I’m also here too,” you hear George before you see him appearing on your left. “Oh, God. What’s this arse shit doing here?” He points at Max and the dutch rolls his eyes. 
“Nice to see you too, royal blasphemy.” You laugh a little over Max’s words and he smiles at your reaction. “You too, Carlos.” 
“I’m also a royal blasphemy?” The man asks teasingly, bringing you closer to his chest and you put a hand on top of his tight grip around you. “I thought bullying hours were only open for George.” 
“We can do a 2x1 promotion,” you reply before pinching his skin and making him yelp and retreat surprised. “How many times have I told you and everybody else that I do not like when sweaty people touch me?” 
“Princess,” Carlos tries to reason and you turn around, pressing your index to his chest. “I just came from training. Of course I’m sweaty.” 
“Then stay away. No hugs until you take a shower, understood, Carly?” Max gets up from his seat behind you, adjusting his cap visor better and giving a nod towards George as a small goodbye, before taking two steps away from you, then he gets stopped by your voice. “Where do you think you are going, Verstappen?” You repproach. 
“I can be your mirror holder later, okay? I just need to get some stuff sorted out but I’ll be back,” he excuses himself and waves a hand timidly before continuing his path to his place, taking the small door behind the Mercedes garage to guide himself out instead of walking out through the garage entrance. 
You share a few confused looks with Carlos until you glance at George and notice him suppressing a laugh, which only serves to confuse you even more. 
By the time practice starts you will be out of the paddock again and on your way home in a car with Susie, ready  to spend the night with her and watch some movies or chit-chat, so you don’t want to miss out on the opportunity to wish everybody good luck, including Max. 
As you promised, you’ve cooked some stuff for your friends, —well, more like baked— but you had brought an extra paper bag with something inside that was only for Verstappen and didn’t involve any food, and you had to give it to him now before George or Carlos stepped in again. 
“Max! Max!” Grabbing the paper bag and the plate covered with some kitchen rags from the house, you stumble across the garage, muttering multiple apologies to some members of the staff, as you attempt to catch the Dutchman. “Emi!” You finally yell and he stops, turning around in the corridor connecting all garages. 
Max observes you with curiosity and a bit of fear, noticing you closing the gap between you two at a fast pace until you nearly push the trail of food against his chest and shake another small bag close to him with a happy smile. 
He has to retreat a bit and extend both hands forward to catch the plate and prevent the food from failing while simultaneously asking you what you wanted and why you didn’t stay with your friends. 
“I made you a gift!” You announce and let go of the plate, allowing him to carry on it fully. “But first, voila!” Your free hand takes off the rag, showing him six cupcakes. “Pick two.” Max, puzzled, points at the two cupcakes with blue frosting on top and small white bits. “Okay, no, pick another two.” 
Letting out a huff, Max points at the yellow ones, and you frown. “Why don’t you pick them for me?” 
“Wonderful!” You celebrate and push apart from the remaining two with green frosting and small bits of pink candy sprinkled around it. “These are for you.” 
Max wishes he could hate your excitement right now. You are being noisy, overly-dramatic and a bit too on the nose with your gifts, but you look at him so happily he cannot help but feel a bit excited as well over this. 
It wasn’t the biggest of presents, just a small treat before practice —, and if he had to be honest, you were making him waste crucial time before he got to test his car once more, but he was enjoying every second of it. Even the many minutes he held onto your mirror and acted like he wanted to be anywhere else but right next to you, he still smiled because he enjoyed spending time with you. 
At first, he was a bit awkward, he had to admit that. One thing was interacting casually through texts and trying to carry on a conversation for some minutes between breaks, but besides that, he didn’t expect this to reach anything else. He told you to visit him if you went to the paddock but he didn’t really believe you would, you weren’t close in the slightest, and after you missed two days of preparation, he thought you wouldn’t show up at all, yet you appeared out of nowhere dressed as a staff member and called for him from your garage to have a small talk that lead nowhere and only had him bickering and laughing with you. 
You promised him food and only now that he wanted to leave you remembered you had to give him the little treats all excited, and Max felt conflicted. 
Why were you still being nice to him? Had he made you any happier just by talking nonsense through text? Were you going to treat him as a friend now that you both shared a moment of sincerity? 
“Thank you,” Max decides to exaggerate just to irk you a little bit and grabs one of the two cupcakes. “These are totally my favorite colors. You know me so well, Schatje.” 
“Shut up, Emilian. I cooked those with love —.” 
“And poison, right?” He interrupts you. “You want to get me sick before practice.” 
“Bullshit, if I wanted you sick I would have food poisoned you the day of the actual race, not during practice.” You explain and grab the plate with a hand, moving the other close to his chest and making the paper bag hit him a little. “This is your present as well.” Max leaves the cupcake back on the plate and grabs the small gift, taking off a hat with the signature dark blue of Red Bull but without all the sponsors around, just one small ‘RB’ knitted near the back in orange. “No offense but the caps your team gives you are ugly.” 
“You knitted my team on a cap?” He asks absent-mindedly. 
“Because your caps are ugly.” 
“You knitted me a gift.” This time he sentences every word affirmatively, finally letting the information sink in. 
“To save you from the ugly caps of Red Bull,” you insist. “It has a thirty-three inside the cap as well so you never forget your first number, but I also added a small number one on the other side.” You point out with your finger and Max remains silent through your explanation, taking in all the little details around the hat. You’ve knitted the R and B tinily near the back and added a small sun near it.
The design is simple but it looks well put together and Max cannot begin to imagine how long it took you to get all those letters and numbers around. He was never skilled when it came to knitting or doing many smaller things that required patience. He liked to stick to racing and occasionally paddling, so he admired the drivers who had multiple skills besides the sport they shared in common. 
“Thank you,” Verstappen finally raises his head to see you and the corners of his mouth raise forming the cutest, most sincere smile you’ve ever seen on him. “This is the sweetest gift. I will make sure to repay you.” 
Noticing the burning sensation on your cheeks, you attempt to joke off your adorable gesture by pushing his shoulder slightly and laughing a bit. “You can repay me by coming in third or fourth during this weekend’s race.” 
“You’d hate me if I lost on purpose.” 
“You are right,” you take the plate away from him once he gets a hold of your cupcakes and also move two steps backwards. “Just do your best and don’t wear anything too ugly for interviews, will you? It’s embarrassing to see my boyfriend on TV wearing only Red Bull merch.” 
‘My boyfriend,’ Max dances around those two words you so naturally pronounced, and smiles again, refusing to acknowledge the fact that you probably called him that way just to tease him some more. 
It’s odd, but it sounds good whenever you refer to him as your partner, even if it is a joke. The words roll down your tongue naturally, like it’s meant to be. 
“You can catch me wearing this hat for the remaining interviews of the week,” he promises and takes a bite of a cupcake. “Oh, shit, this is delicious, what the fuck.” 
“I’m a master chef, baby.” 
“Fuck, yes you are. How much do I have to pay you to cook some more of these things?” 
“Well, I was thinking about dropping some of these on Sunday morning for the boys. I can bake you some too.” 
“I’d love that please.” 
“Only if you wear the hat and get rid of the skinny jeans.” 
Max laughs, taking another bite and shaking his head in negativity. Once he swallows the sweet treat completely he replies again. “You want me to go around in boxers and a Red Bull t-shirt?” He suggests and you frown, fixing your eyes on his mouth before cleaning a small portion of frosting from his top lip with your thumb. “What are..?” 
“You’ve got some…” you stop mid-sentence, concentrating on grabbing the green frosting from around his mouth and lowering your thumb near his chin. “You also have it here…” 
Against his better judgment, Max follows your movements, tracing a patter from your hand to your face before your touch abandons his face and his hand instinctively reaches for yours, clasping around it and bringing it forward just to clean it with the paw of his Red Bull jacket. 
“There, better,” Max nearly whispers with his eyes fixated on yours. “Thank you.” 
“You…I’m glad you liked the cupcake.” Quickly, you force your hand out of his grip and reach for the second cupcake, pushing it toward him timidly. “Here, have the other one. I have to go.” 
“I…” he barely pronounces, grabbing the treat, before you begin walking back into your garage without saying goodbye. 
Verstappen stays in his place for a few seconds in silence, confused over his and your actions. Warmness expands on his chest like a plague, mixing with a little weird sensation in his stomach as well. He feels a bit of everything: happiness, nervousness, excitement, confusion. It hits him so suddenly that he doesn’t know what to do except look at the direction you took to leave him abruptly and then force himself back into his garage with his cheeks rosy and his stomach mixing butterflies with green frosting and pink candy bits.
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“What the…?” 
You aren’t allowed to finish the sentence before the car gets parked in front of all the lights, making you retreat to the opposite corner of the back seat. 
Your driver turns off the engine, turning to look at you worriedly, and signals across all windows. There are reporters on the front, making it impossible to move the vehicle away from the entrance path to the wood’s house, but you also notice flashes coming from the back as well, making you realize that you are surrounded by more than the average amount of reporters. 
“We need to go,” you demand to the driver and he suggests waiting until they move but your patience is running thin as well as your energy. You stayed longer than expected, visiting a few friends around the paddock and even going as far as joining the Mercedes meeting to get some updates regarding your car and the strategy the team will be using. “Now.” 
“We cannot move from here. I can try to walk you out.”
“No way, they will jump us in a second.” 
“We can push past them. It will be better than waiting here until they leave…because they won’t.” The driver concludes and you unlock your phone, quickly searching for a name on your contact list that can help. 
At this hour every member of the team that you know of will be busy watching over George and Carlos’ performance during practice to make some adjustments to their cars. Lewis will also be by their side with Charles on their Ferrari cars and Max will be stuck there too. Even Susie, who had originally planned to drive you to your house had to cancel at the last minute due to an emergency and shortened your list of contacts to call for help. 
“I need to think,” you murmur, looking through the window and receiving another blinding flash through the glass. 
“I can walk you out.” 
“I said I need to think,” you repeat yourself more sternly now and give the driver one last look before closing your eyes for a few seconds and hiding your face in your palms. 
A few minutes pass by only hearing the sounds of the cameras going off and many reporters asking you questions from outside. ‘How are you feeling now?’ ‘Are you still dating Max or you are now with Carlos?’ ‘Why aren’t you in the paddock right now?’ ‘Will Max join you tonight now that his practice was cut short?’ 
Wait. 
Max’s practice was cut short…why? 
Unlocking your phone rapidly, you search for Max’s contact but he gets to call you first, taking you by surprise the moment your device starts vibrating on your hand and his name pops up before you can find it on your list. 
“Yn? Are you already home?” You hear him speak rapidly. “I think something —.” 
“Are you okay, Emi?” You ask him worriedly, cutting him off without intending to. “What happened? Why aren’t you still practicing?” 
“Yn, are you in your house now?”��
“Why does that matter? What happened to you?” You persist, growing agitated by the second. The flashes have ceased but the questions come from all sides, making you feel increasingly uncomfortable in your seat. There are way too many people around you all talking simultaneously, which is irking you. “Please tell me you didn’t crash your car or something. Are you okay?” 
“Will you shut up and hear me for a second?” He replies as exasperated as you. “Someone from your own staff leaked your location to the media. Reporters are probably on their way to your house.” 
Looking through the window you sigh, dropping your gaze to your shoes. “They are already here.”
“What? Are you also there? Fuck,” he curses. “Listen, I’m already walking to the parking lot. I will be there as quickly as possible.” 
“It’s an hour and a half drive from the paddock,” the realization hits you and your hand flies to the door handle, gripping it tightly. This car is too small to keep you safe and the noise is too loud. You need to be elsewhere.“I need to get out of here.” 
“No, no, listen. I will be there and pick you up. We can move you somewhere else —.” 
“Shut up, Max, I need to leave this stupid car.” 
“You are gonna get ambushed if —.” 
You end the call and adjust your Mercedes cap on your head before opening the door and walking out without uttering a single word to your driver. 
You have to get into your house now. You need to be alone.
 
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Where could you possibly store all your anger? You’ve seen it so frequently in your house you’ve grown accustomed to it until your father left, but even then, you never truly felt it yourself prior to this moment. 
One quick look at your phone had you fuming with anger. 
You’ve tolerated the questions thrown your way once you joined. You justified their skepticism towards you from the beginning and tried to reason with the media respectfully, answering all their pertinent asks and attempting your best to ease down their worries about you by showing them great results in every race, but that wasn’t enough. 
Once they couldn’t criticize your skills, they moved to your appearance. They commented on your clothes, your make-up or lack thereof, your hair, your posture, your way of laughing a bit too loudly or not laughing at all when they joked at your expense. They simply said things towards you and for the most part you ignored them, sticking to answering the truly important questions and turning a blind eye to everything else but this was something you simply couldn’t brush off. 
They’ve launched a hate campaign to make you look like a complete fool and you weren’t even aware of it until now that you finally decided to stupidly look up your name on the internet. 
It was disheartening at first but then it enraged you. 
They camped outside of your house with their cameras ready and their voices intoned to ask you the dumbest, most unnecessary bits of information, and you felt utterly violated. 
Wasn’t your silence enough of a given to your state? You’ve hidden from them in plain sight, yet they refused to take the hint and leave you alone. They demanded everything from you: the perfect performance, the perfect reactions, and the perfect stories to tell, and now that you needed space to breathe and rest, they refused to give you that despite your attempts to give them everything they asked for since you started your career in F1.
You could never win when it came to the media. The ones who liked you were the fans but the reporters despised you and their words affected you. 
Your hands trembled holding the small device, the room momentarily being flashed by a red light. You couldn’t see past your anger at this very moment and the insistent noise of your bell going off in the background only served to push you towards the edge. 
You wanted to get back at them somehow. You were tired of pretending like winning was the biggest price you could hold against them. It never fulfilled you when you attempted to be the bigger person in the room; you could only understand so much, silence so many words, and push down your crawling anger until it finally surfaced for everybody to see. 
You were losing the fight.
“Fuck off!” You finally scream from the couch and jump from it the moment your words are answered by another impertinent ring. “I said, fuck off!” Your hands catch a lamp near you and throw it across the space, smashing it against the entrance. 
The porcelain flies everywhere, shattering into tiny and medium fragments, and the loud noise it produces has you flinching away, bringing back the normal colors around the room momentarily until your anger takes over once more, defeating your fear towards your own actions. 
Where can you put all this anger? 
You saw it before. You had heard the screams your father and mother shared at some point. You’ve seen firsthand how it affected your mom and how scary it could turn, but you were always in the position of defense. You received the short end of the anger your father carried yet never experienced it from his shoes. 
Maybe he stored his anger on your mother all these years while you stored all of yours on him during every fight. Maybe all it took was a bit of a push to see things from his perspective and discover that you shared the same short fuse. 
Breathing in and out heavily, the doorbell goes off once more, this time followed by a familiar voice screaming your name, and you shake your head letting the tears of shame fall from your eyes, staining your cheeks. 
You need to be alone. You have to be alone. 
It’s happening once more. You are so mad you cannot see past the impending issues. You feel small and helpless and so, you lash out, just like you used to when you were younger. 
You are seven once again, standing between your parents and threatening to inflict violence if the fight doesn’t stop in that instant. All you know is how to bite back once you are bitten. All you can do is fight anger with anger. 
“Yn, please, open the door. I promise they already left.” Max’s voice reaches you from the other side and you swallow the lump forming on your throat. “I’ve threatened to call the police.” 
Was that the solution? You question yourself internally. 
You’ve pushed many reporters away, knocking down some cameras in the process and never stopping to look back or apologize. You left your driver stranded in your car without saying goodbye. You ignored messages from Verstappen, and then you mistook his calls to your door with persistence from the media. 
This entire hour you thought you were surrounded and helpless. Suffocating on your grief until it morphed into anger but the cause of your rage had long been gone wasting energy on problems you couldn’t solve. 
“You promise they are gone?” The words spill without you intending to and you feel like hitting yourself for sounding so weak. “I mean —.” 
“I’m here, okay? I can stay outside until you are ready to let me in, but I promise they left and Lewis called me. They will be here as soon as possible, they just have to go through the interviews before leaving the paddock.” You reply with silence, unsure of what to do now. “Listen, if you don’t want me here, I understand, but when your friends come over, open the door, okay? They are worried about you.” 
“I always make them worry.” You mutter to yourself and take one hesitant step towards the door. “I made a mess here.” Announcing this, you take another step. 
“I can clean it before they arrive,” he suggests and you breathe out slowly, carefully stepping over some of the shattered yards with your shoes, breaking them even more. “If you let me.” 
“This is embarrassing,” you wrap your fingers around the doorknob, twisting it and opening the door for him, dragging some of the broken pieces underneath and Max breathes out in relief, seeing you unharmed and more or less in the same physical state you left the paddock earlier. 
You move to the side, allowing him to come in and he waltzes into the receiving room, finding everything intact besides the one thing you broke, which helps him feel more relaxed. 
He had reached you in time. 
“There is nothing embarrassing about this,” he comments and kneels down to pick a big fragment of the lamp. 
“I’m not supposed to lose my cool.” 
“Why not? Is it illegal to feel angry?” He attempts to joke and you swallow harshly, wiping away harshly a tear that rolls down your eye. “I’ve lashed out multiple times in the past. I’m not proud of my reactions but for the most part, my anger was provoked by the media, but what you went through right now…? Fuck, I don’t know if I would have thrown something to the door only. I’d have fought them all on the spot.” 
Another tear escapes and you hide your face in your palms, remaining quiet. Max turns around, finally seeing you and he instinctively walks toward you, stepping on the yards and causing quite a mess on your floor until he is mere centimeters away from your shaking frame. 
“I shouldn’t be reacting this way,” you sob and feel his arms wrap around you hesitantly until you also cave in, returning his hug and nuzzling your face on his chest still covered by his suit. “I don’t want to be like him.”
“In what way, dear?” Max whispers close to your ear and his warm breath tickles your skin. He actively chooses to ignore your last statement, quite sure that you are referencing your father but not exactly certain that this is the correct moment to discuss what you have implied nor of him being the person you should openly talk about this with. “You were hurt. They are pressing all your buttons because they know you will react badly. They want that.” 
“I’m doing things just like…” you stop yourself from finishing that sentence. “I’m just so angry.” 
“I understand.” 
He isn’t lying when he says that. Although you only express yourself between little moments of sincerity, he can piece all the few moments together to understand you fully. 
He knows what you mean. He’s been through that as well. Nobody granted him kindness or the opportunity to redeem himself after he committed many mistakes in front of everybody. 
Nobody stopped him when rage infected his mind and his common sense disappeared. Nobody offered him the grace of fixing things properly within himself and with others, but you did. You attempted to understand his position given the limited knowledge that you had and that made it easier for him to understand you now as well. 
He believed he knew what you meant when you admitted to be angry. And he was also certain he could understand the many yards across the entrance, reflecting on your troubled feelings and saturated mind. 
You were at the tip of instability, swinging between a fragile calmness and total chaos. 
He suffered from that as well for many years yet until this very moment he could see it with his own eyes that you were going through it too. 
You feigned stability and control, gracefully dodging the bullets others shot at you, but in reality, you were running after them once everybody left. Hurting yourself over the things you couldn’t control, looking for the guns that attempted to shoot you and pulling the trigger once more. 
“I am angry too,” Max admits and tightens the grip around your body. “I understand.” 
“I don’t think it’s fair for you to clean the mess I made.” You opt to divert the conversation elsewhere and Max carries on, respecting your decision.
“Well, I don’t think it’s fair for you to suffer through this alone so let me help, will you?” Your grip loosens around his torso, signaling the end of your spontaneous hug and as you separate from each other, Max looks at the little mess you’ve caused. “I will pick up the pieces. You can get us something to drink. Maybe then we can talk, if you want.” 
“Would you like some tea?” Your big eyes observe him timidly. The pinkish hue of your cheeks and the tip of your nose pales in comparison to the darkness of your eye bags. You look exhausted. 
“Tea would be lovely. Thank you.” 
He hates tea, but this isn’t a moment to remind you of that simple fact. 
“And…” You trail off, looking elsewhere for a fraction of a second. “What if I don’t want to talk?”
“We can stay in silence or rest a bit before your friends come,” Max suggests. “Do you want that?” 
“Yes, please.” 
He nods, putting an end to the conversation and you move away from the scene, carefully avoiding the yards close to you while Max searches everywhere for the correct point to begin his cleaning duties. 
Maybe two minutes pass by in total silence before the dutch man hears your voice again, softly coming from the oval entrance to the kitchen. 
“Emi?” He nearly misses the name you imply to call for him and in that moment, he notices you’ve called him that before as well. 
“Yes, dear?” Max replies stopping his movements. 
“Thank you.” 
Max Emilian smiles, basking on the sweet smile you return to him as soon as your eyes meet each other. 
He’s relieved to be here, secretly thanking his car for failing so unexpectedly during practice.
“Nothing to thank me for. I’m here whenever you need me.”
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#taglist one: @alilcloudy @chiliwhore @halleest @welovediaaxx @its-avalon-08 @hiireadstuff @prudyhoo @almostjollypizza @butterfly-lover @sunsshinesunny @tsukishitm-a @be-your-coffee-pot @bruhhhhhhhhehhhhhhh @ironmaiden1313 @indesicivelyconfuzzled @sargeantdumbass @asmoothoperator @brettlorenzi3 @lewisvinga @dr4g0ngirl @fruity-dirtbag @ladyladybuggg @woozarts @casperlikej @marshmummy @leclercdream @namgification
— taglist #2 in the reblogs.
A / N : After many many days of not posting i'm back here hello! Sorry for the delay, I got sick and was put on bed rest for the past four days so it was difficult for me to write. I hope you enjoy this angsty chapter with some sprinkles of fluff! Let me know your thoughts and see you on the next update <3 — The next update comes with a voting poll for the dynamic of the final chapter of the second act, so stay tuned to participate! xoxo
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dreamauri · 2 days
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┇𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗦 𝗥𝗢𝗖𝗞 - part four ┇︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶ ┇this is what they call: puppy love.  ┇︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦˚₊   ┇ . 🌿 :: pairing — ( max vertsappen  x  fem! reader ) ┇ . 🫧 :: ⁠genre — ( fluff )  ┇ . 🌿 :: ⁠word count — ( - ) ╰  🫧 :: ⁠ content warning — ( google translated spanish )
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( fic master list | general master list ) ( requests ) ( previous | next )
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Y/N Gemazi-L/N chats with Martin Brundle on his DREAM F1 debut 🔴🎂
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"One more lap, tsunoda ahead in p10. push for q3." "heard." You mumbled back on the radio, preparing for one more qualifying lap to be a part f the top ten. You've never raced in jeddah before as it was one of the newer circuits and you'd long left formula 2 by then.
But the track wasn't too difficult to figure out. Sure the track is challenging, especially since FP3 wasn't enough to learn the car and that you still indeed are learning the track. Qualifying laps were ok, no real battles yet, just against the clock which gave you peace of mind.
The sim helped a little, not as much as the fact that you'd be teammates with charles again or the fact that Lando has a good car and would be near you throughout the race, battening you or not. On top of that, the only reason you're going through with the race (like you had a choice anyways) is max.
You'd subconsciously called Max after Fred Vasseur broke the news to you, making him the first person to know and the first person so far this half weekend to give you real tips and advice about the circuit, going as far as staying up with you the other night after inviting you to his room to practice on his sim.
"Well done, Y/N, that is P9. P9." You heard your race engineer beep in your ears as you crossed the finish line. "WO! Q3!" "Line up so far is: verstappen, leclerc, alonso, piastri, russel, perez, norris, tsunoda, you, stroll." "Tsunoda? I thought he P10? Did i not knock him out?" "No, that was—" "Oh my god, it's john wick." you gasped once realizing. "Who?" "I eliminated lewis, didn't i?" "Confirmed. Yes." "Oh my god."
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“Hello, Y/N.” You smiled, giving a nod to return the greeting. “You’ve had an amazing debut thus far. How are you feeling?” You laughed, shrugging. “I woke up this morning thinking I’d be chillaxing back in the hospitality and drinking barbican while watching the red cars. Never expected that I’d be in one of the cars. But uh, we had a good qualifying. Q3 is good for the team and hopefully, we’ll have a good pace tomorrow.”
“It is a very remarkable debut,” “It is.” You agreed nodding, brushing your hair back. “I mean, I knew I’d be driving an F1 car at some point or another. I’m glad it was a night race. I’ll do my best to seize the moment and maximize the opportunity,” you quote, joking, making the interviewer laugh. “And we’ll see where tomorrow takes us.” “Very nice, Y/N.” “Thank you-” looked back, feeling someone put a hand on your shoulder.
Max could visibly see you relax upon realizing it was him. He found the smile that rose on your face too cute. “Q3, I taught her.” He joked, making you laugh. “Which position?” “P6.” Max made an impressed face nodding. “Hands off my teammate.” Charles shooed Max, pushing him away. You watched, trying to hold in your laugh.
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“There was something in the air that night, the stars so bright, fernando.” You sang as you hugged the spaniard. “youre going to sing that every time you see me." He laughed, hugging you back and patting your back. “its tradition." You reminded him as the two of you pulled away. He ruffled your hair, cupping the back of your head. “P6?” He asked, smiling. You shrugged, smiling. “just stay behind me." “very funny, nando."
You waved him goodbye as bid a farewell, going to his car. You unlocked your phone as you walked the other way, scrolling through your contacts as you looked around, searching for a certain honda. You don’t remember the license plate so finding your ride back was difficult, especially since there were so many cars in a lot of colors and expensive models.
‘Where are you?’ You send the text message, looking around the parking lot. You were answered with a light flicker. Max’s car wasn’t too far, he’d turned his lights on and off as a signal for you. He wasn’t too far, so you made a jog for it, opening the car door and getting in the passenger seat, and placing your backpack between your feet. 
Max started the car, pulling out of the parking lot. Since you accidentally spent the night at his, and the two of you were already staying at the same hotel and you didn’t rent a car out for the weekend, Max figured: why not carpool? “Seat Belt.” the blond reminded you as the car neared the exit of the parking lot. You did catch what he said, distracted by looking out at the other driver’s who were finding their own cars.
“hm?” instead of repeating himself, max reached and buckled you up himself, smoothly merging into traffic, using blinkers and abiding the laws. You blushed, leaning your elbow on the door and watching him out of the corner of your eyes. It was a long day and you were tired. Still jet lagged, you made the mistake of waking up early to venture around unknowing that you'd be driving twice. And now that the main anxiety drilling events were over, the sleep and rest you needed was catching up to you.
Max lowered the music from the radio once he noticed your low energy and slow blinking. He'd been taking glances in your direction, keeping track of you slowly dozing off. When he parked the car at the hotel, you were totally asleep. It took max a few seconds of theorizing on what to do next before going into action.
He didn’t want to wake you up, so with two backpacks on, he managed to get you up on your feet so he could carry you. You were only half asleep when he gently and slowly opened the door, catching your elbow so you don't fall. with half opened eyes, you looked at him confused as he pulled your backpack on before unbuckling your seat.
You let him hold your hands and help you get out, before gently wrapping your arms around his neck and lifting you up into his chest. He kicked the door shut before carrying you away. You leaned your head on his shoulder falling back into slumberland. 
it was a shame you weren't awake to witness the journey up to his room. Max had somehow signaled a staff worker over, making him take out the wallet from his back pocket and unlock the entrance from the garage to the building, and once again to unlock the door to his room.
The truly memorable part was when Max set you on his bed. After taking your shoes off and covering you with the blanket, the dutch gently brushed your hair in a ponytail he found in your bag. When he tried to pull away, to get himself asleep on the couch, you'd held his hand in your sleep.
Max felt like he was frozen in place as if one of his cats fell asleep on him and he couldn't move so as to not wake them up. He knelt down on the floor, brushing his thumb against your cheek where you held his hand. You looked so peaceful and adorable that it took Max around 10 minutes of contemplation before slipping in bed with you where you welcomed him by hugging him and clinging onto him.
The smile and blush that covered his cheeks as he hugged and cuddled you back, stayed on his face through the night. The best sleep he's ever had.
★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
“The nostalgia,”  “It's like a copy paste.” the two commentators laughed. “Just look at her driving style as well, she's aggressive but not over the line, shouting" I'm here, I'm going to overtake, and you can’t do anything about it.” Their explanation was on point. You got straight to the point. You caught up, intimidated, saw a gap and went for it. P6 to P3 with a good chunk of the race left. Max and Charles were ahead by a few points and it took you a few laps to catch up. Staying behind the fellow ferrari, you stayed on his tail within a half second distance.
Once you took corner #27 and the DRS was applicable, You were past Charles and chasing Max in the red bull.
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Post dive bombing max into turn one, and over taking him, you lead a difficult 4 laps where the dutch was breathing down your neck. You genuinely felt scared because he was in your mirrors the whole time, like playing tag with an adult and they laugh evilly which makes it feel real and you start screaming and actually running for your life.
Max did eventually take his P1 back and you stayed behind him. Unfortunately, under team orders, you had to switch with Charles and give him the P2 once he caught up. You looked up once someone came up from behind you, patting your back. “Rickey, when I catch you, rickey.” You laughed as you took your helmet off, watching Max go off for his post race interview. “Nice driving,” You turned, smiling at Charles and returning the fistbump. “Nice breaking.” you returned the compliment.
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not two steps in the room and max had cupped his hand under your chin and pulled you in a for a kiss. You were defiantly suppressed, not getting the chance to at least find the light switch or put the trophy down somewhere. You kissed back eagerly, a small hum leaving your throat as the two of you made out.
Max must have been continuing where you left off in the morning with how hungry and eager he seemed. Since waking up tangled in each other, the moment led to a kiss and another and another. You never realised how attracted you were to max, how he made you feel.
Dropping your bag, you used your free hand tp tangle your fingers in the hair at his nape, letting him tilt your head with the grip he hand on your chin to deepen the kiss. "I've been waiting all day." he mumbled before leaning in for another kiss.
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261 notes · View notes
duyxjpg · 22 hours
Text
Text messages between you & your f1 besties pt. 3
Summary: Just random dialogues between you & your f1 besties + your crush. Friends in question: Charles Leclerc, Lando Norris & Max Verstappen Note: Eventually the boys will take the matters in their own hands since it hurts physically to watch you (be so chaotic).
As you wish there is a part 3 of the never ending saga of Y/Ns chaotic life.
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Y/N = trouble magnet + Charles = a worried mom
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Y/N is a mystery - what does Y/N do for a living?
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single dad charles & her two troublesome kids
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Y/N blasting the hit of the century for the 1000x time that night...
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How dare Bob to snitch on Y/N?
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the baby Lando is
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Y/N second favorite thing to do is to bully charles & the first thing is to crush over max
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Is there something going on between Y/N and Max? Y/N is still can't believe what just happened..
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he knows he is a babygirl & the one and only babygirl for Y/N
Max is a very patient man when it comes to Y/N. what a man
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Her time span of seriousness is shorter than a butterflies life span.
pt. 1 | pt. 2
****************************************************
Writers note: We all know that Y/N is chaotic and loves his friends & crush a lot. Rumors say that there is a crazy chemistry between the red bull driver and Y/N.
127 notes · View notes
alocon · 11 hours
Text
A Soulmate Who Wasn't Meant To Be [8] - Max Verstappen
written by alocon
Note: Name and Part One based on the song A Soulmate Who Wasn't Meant To Be by Jess Benko.
Summary: Mini chapter. When the FIA tries to stop you driving at the next grand prix weekend, the drivers decide to take a drastic, but necessary, turn to stand up for you.
Before you read: Use of Y/N
fc: Blanca Soler
[Previous Part] [Masterlist]
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A Soulmate Who Wasn't Meant To Be- - MV¹ x Fem!OC
“So, question for Y/N.”
You were currently sat in the interviews before the next race, in a press conference with you, Lance, Zhou, Logan and Nico. You had been expecting this question when it came but had not expected it only 3 minutes into the questions.
“We hear you're under investigation by the FIA, would you like to expand on that and what you are under investigation for?”
“Yes,” you sat up in your seat, more than happy to speak. “I have been put under investigation for creating a hostile work environment since 2019. Apparently, I have been acting hostile towards Christian Horner, despite the fact its more like the other way around.” You shrugged.
“Right.” The interviewer shrugged. “And how might this affect your driving?”
“Well, pending the results of the investigation, they may, as a punishment, revoke my super licence.”
“So let me get this straight,” Crofty said, speaking up. “You're at risk of losing your racing licence because of you allegedly being hostile to the Team Principal of Red Bull Racing since 2019?”
I nodded.
Lance then spoke up. “I think it's suspicious that these rumours suddenly came around just after a podcast episode about some of her treatment at Red Bull and a post of her and Geri together.” He said. “It seems very strangely timed.”
“Almost like they're trying to silence her for Christian's actions.”
The drivers in the conference all started defending you, putting a smile on your face. It was sweet to see them all so defensive over you, instantly jumping to your protection without even being asked their opinions.
“It had been oddly timed.” You said. “All of a sudden, after me putting in a complaint about Christian Horner to the FIA, I was the one under investigation. I think that it's ridiculous to be honest. I provided evidence - more than enough. And yet I am still the one under fire.”
“I hear a lot of drivers and other staff are supporting you.” Crofty said. “Do you have anything to say to that?”
“Yes. I am so grateful for the way that the drivers have treated me, and other staff, both at Mercedes and other teams. I appreciate that they have been defending me to the FIA, and taking a stand with me against the unfair treatment that I have been under by Red Bull and the FIA in the past couple of weeks, and Red Bull since I joined.”
“So are you still racing this weekend?”
“No. They've told me I'm not allowed to race until the investigation is over.” you explained, frustrated.
The rest of the press conference went well and, soon, you were back in your drivers room and soon heard the door open. You looked up, seeing the drivers slip into your room. All of them.
“We're here to take your mind off of all the bullshit going on. So. We have fifa, Uno, monopoly, Mario Kart, we got your switch so you can play animal crossing if you want,” Lando began to list off everything.
You chuckled, smiling sweetly at them at the kind kind actions of going out of their ways to try to cheer you up. So that's what happened. You all sat on the floor talking, playing games, chilling out and discussing how to sort this out when Charles came up with an idea.
“A strike.”
“A what?” You looked at the Monegasque, confused at the sudden outburst.
“We could go on strike. Refuse to race until Horner is gone and the investigation is dropped.”
There were some cheers from the drivers.
“Guys. What?” You said when you saw the agreements. “You don't have to do this.” you said.
“Let's vote then.” Charles said. “All in favour?” 19 hands went up. “All against?... Then it is decided.”
After some planning, it was in order.
El Plan (2025 Driver's Strike edition)
Step One: Pack our stuff.
You all got to work, packing out bags, everything we needed.
Step Two: Prepare the vehicles.
That went by quickly too.
Step Three: Tell Our Team Principals
You walked into the emergency meeting with George and Toto, sitting down.
“What's this about? What's going on?” He asked, confused.
“We're going on Strike,” George announced.
“You're doing what?”
“This wasn't my idea,” you started. “But one of the drivers suggested a full driver Strike. Because of the investigation.”
George started explaining the details. The plan. Afterwards, there was a moment of silence.
“Fair enough,” Toto said. “I wouldn't be able to stop you and to be honest, I don't even want to. I don't want you losing your seat, Y/N. Go wild. Have fun. Call me when you're off strike and keep me updated, yes?” He said. You and George looked at each other, surprised it went so well.
Over in the Red Bull office, it wasn't going as well.
“You're doing what?” Christian snapped, angrily.
“Going on strike.” Max leant back in his chair.
“Until the investigation is dropped, we will not race.”
“This is insane! What is wrong with you?” He snapped angrily. “You shouldn't do it if you want your contract renewed, Max.”
“I'm sure there are other teams who would happily take me,” He said standing up, walking straight out the door without another word, being quickly followed by his teammate.
Step Four: Announce the Strike.
“Right, hello,” Crofty said, looking at the camera. “So, we've got a sudden broadcast request from the drivers so… that's what is happening here.”
Bernie spoke up. “We have no idea what this is about. Take it away.”
Your designated speakers - Charles and Max - stepped up to take the mics.
Max got up his script. “Today, Charles suggested something and we did a vote, getting back unanimous agreement.”
“All of the drivers on the current Formula One grid will be going on strike. None of us will drive until our demands are met.” Charles paused before speaking again. “Demand Number One: The investigation on the Mercedes-AMG Petronas driver, Y/N L/N, is dropped. The treatment she has received from both Red Bull and the FIA recently, and since 2019, has been absolutely unacceptable. They are trying to silence her and stop her from racing, so if she can not race, we will not race.” He looked at Max, nodding for him to read the next demand.
Max smiled, looking at the camera. “Deman Number Two: Christian Horner is removed as the team principal of Red Bull Racing indefinitely and an investigation is opened on Red Bull, Christian, and the head of the FIA. I should've stood up for the treatment of Y/N back in the day, and I didn't. But I will do it now. The treatment she had endured was something I would never wish on a driver. The constant hours of berating her for doing her job, and blackmailing her by threatening to reveal that she miscarried are unacceptable and they, Christian especially, should be taken into account.”
“We want to make it clear that this was not the decision or suggestion of Y/N L/N. This was entirely my suggestion, and all of the drivers instantly agreed. Do not send her hate for this. We will ensure that anyone who has attended any races or paid to attend any of the races get compensated somehow, and we will ensure that every single person who has paid to attend the races gets an apology that it has had to go this far. Action will not be taken until we make a drastic move, so this is our drastic move.” Charles then said his final sentence. “None of us will drive until our demands are met.” Charles repeated again.
-word count: around 1,300-
Hi All!!
Hope you're well. Here is a mini chapter for the Max story. Expect some drivers' strike chapters soon. This is unedited. Love you all x
Have a good day
Alocon
Taglist: @c-losur3 @itsjustkhaos @reidsworld @d3kstar @casperlikej
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astonmartinii · 11 hours
Text
new series 👀🫶🏻?
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hey girlies, lads and all that fall in between i am thinking of a new series....
in my head it works rather as an anthology series, so none of the parts would actually be connected but they would all follow the same trope... BROTHER'S BEST FRIEND?
as you may have been able to tell i am a sucker for this trope - despite being an only child myself lol
so let me know if you like this idea and any pairings you might want to see
much love,
aston martini x
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cherry-leclerc · 4 months
Text
can’t you see ☆ mv1
genre: redbull!driver, enemies to lovers, smut, lando and danny playing cupid lol, protective!max (although he won’t admit it), mean!max, sub!max, dom!reader
word count: 3.2k
In between your mutual dislike with your teammate, Lando and Daniel try their best to make you and Max uncover some hidden feelings.
nsfw warning under the cut!
18+...penetrative sex, riding, sucking on fingers
req!...quick one, but ahh first maxie drabble. eekk :)
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“What a fucking asshole.”
Daniel’s eyes bulge out as he hands you a cup of coffee. It had been an extremely long day. Perhaps not the best idea to keep it going, but it seemed like the FIA didn’t give a shit about that. You were past being upset. You were seething. 
“Uh…Yeah. I mean I get it. I’m tired, too. This red flag came at the worst time-”
Briskly, you take the cup from him, cutting him off. “It’s not the red flag, it’s Max.” Ever since you joined Formula 1 as the first female to drive for Red Bull, you had felt welcomed by everyone. Everyone but your actual teammate. You had thought maybe it was because he had small balls and couldn’t handle the fact that you were driving alongside him, but when you confronted him about it, he only growled. 
As if you would ever cross my fucking mind.
Squinting, you point accusingly at the Australian. “You ought to stop being his friend.” He loudly laughs as he throws his head back. 
“You say that every time.”
Making a face, you shoot back. “And you never choose!”
“You’re both my friends. No one is winning custody.” 
“You’re older than both of us combined.”
“Hey!”
Hey, a low voice replies. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up. A shiver runs down your spine. Max leans up against the nearest wall as he ignores you and keeps his eyes on his friend. You wave your hand up in front of him a couple of times for good measure before your mouth drops open when he acts as if you were Casper the Friendly Ghost. 
“We were just talking abou- Ouch!” Daniel shrieks in pain when you pinch him. Faking a smile, you turn to the Dutchman. We were actually in the middle of something here. Nothing. He just keeps looking past you. Running a hand through his hair, he starts talking about how this all ‘ruined my flow’ and how he was going to have to ‘try to fix the FIA’s mistakes’. You have to laugh.
“Is something funny to you?”
You look around the room as you theatrically shudder. Sipping on the hot beverage, you hum and close your eyes. Max clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he crosses his arms in frustration. Cold weather, Danny. Do you think there’s a place nearby that sells homemade chicken soup?
“What the fuck is your problem?”
“If we find one, then maybe we can invite Lando and-” Suddenly, he reaches out for your cup and hot drops hit your hand. You hiss in pain. “What’s your problem, dickhead?”
Now, a normal reaction would be to be a decent human being and apologize. Offer up their own cup of coffee, perhaps. Not Max. Throwing it into the nearest trash bin, he turns to you. And he actually has the audacity to look upset.
“Why didn’t you let me overtake you? I don’t know if you don’t know this because you’re new or something like that, but here, when we are instructed to do something - we do it.”
Narrowing your eyes, you step closer. “So what? I don’t let you by one time and suddenly I’m the bad guy? Let me remind you that that’s all I’ve done for you this season.”
“Maybe when you’re someone’s number one driver then you won’t have to do shit like this, but until then,” he angles himself lower to you, “...It kinda looks like you have to.”
“Oh. No.” Daniel winces as he sips quietly on his hot drink. He can physically see your wheels turning as you glare back at the Dutchman. Your cheeks have turned light pink as you refrain yourself from yelling in front of all the Alpha Tauri engineers. Max scrunches his nose.
“Cute.”
You’re about to explode and let all hell loose, but just then, the red flag is over. Huffing, you grab your helmet as you walk away without sparing a single goodbye. Daniel frowns. “You need to stop treating her like that.” Max scoffs. Treating her how? The Australian inches closer as he lays a large hand on his friend's shoulder. “Like you don’t care.”
As soon as the race picks back up, you’re in the zone. You have to work twice as hard to overtake anyone in your way, considering most drivers were on new tires, but eventually you worked your way through. Drops of rain hit your visor as you slow down in sector 2. 
“Should I be worried about the rain?”
“Nothing to be worried about, just keep it up.”
You nod, even though Christian can’t see you. As you get closer, you can see Max’s rear wing. He’s fast - zooming, almost - but that only made you want it even more. Defend. I repeat, defend for a 1-2 finish. “Yeah. No.” Entering the DRS zone, you press down on the throttle as you try all tactics to catch up with the 3x World Champion. Fat drops of water hit the Red Bull as you squint in order to not get lost with the commotion. What are you doing? Defend. “I am defending.” You press harder. “Except I’m defending my spot. Not his.”
It’s almost as if he knows what you’re about to do. Quickly, he scans his sideview mirror as he curses when he sees  that you weren’t slowing down. It looks like the two Red Bulls are going head-to-head! Probably not the best idea at the moment considering the tough weather, Crofty announces. Passing Max by, you can’t help but cheer as you try to imagine his reaction. 
“Not what we were picturing, but very well executed. He will be defending now.”
It wasn’t planned to get stung by a boiling hot coffee, of course it wasn’t, despite the bickering between you two. It wasn’t planned to take time to scratch your burnt hand. And it most definitely was not planned to crash.
Plunging into the wall, you groan, curses flowing past your lips. Are you okay? “Yes. I’m okay.” Lifting your visor, you shyly wave at the grandstands. Would you mind going over to check on Max? He’s currently not responding. Your heart stops. Jumping off your seat, you climb out of your car as you turn and sure enough, Max’s Red Bull is ruined. 
“Are you alright?”
Throwing a thumbs up, he lifts himself out of his car to wave at the fans. He turns to you, dark blue helmet still over his head. “What the fuck was that all about?” You narrow your eyes.
“What do you mean? I got an itch.” And though he wears his helmet, you can’t help but notice the crinkles by his eyes. Your stomach flips. It's because of the crash. That’s all it is. You clear your throat. “What happened to you? You were driving well.” Professionally, he slides his gloves off as he waves over at the safety car.
“I had to check on you one way or another, right?”
Dumbfounded, you're faced with his back as he walks away.
-
“He’s into you, can’t you see it!”
“No. Jesus, don’t even say that.” Lando raises his brows as he throws his legs on top of your bed. Daniel hums from underneath the covers. He’s right, though. Pulling the sheets off, you scowl. “Don’t give me reasons to kick you both out.” Throwing yourself onto the mattress, you smile widely. “Soooo, what’s new?”
It’s all you three are ever good for. Pure gossip. Chewing hard on a piece of pizza, you gag. Daniel cackles as he reaches for the last slice. Hey! What if I wanted that? He cocks his head. Fine, you mumble.
“All I wanted was a warm soup.”
A gentle knock echoes through the room as you all turn to face it. Go and open it, Daniel hisses. Wha- No! You go open it, Lando whispers back. Bunch of babies, you murmur as you untangle yourself from your blanket. Swinging the door open, you freeze. Standing tall is Max with a paper bag at  hand.
“Hey.”
Peeking out into the hallway, you stare back confused. “Hey?”
Almost timidly, he kicks his feet up against the wall with a small smile. He extends his arm out, signaling for you to take the mysterious bag. I don’t want any problems, you choke out, feeling skeptical. His blue eyes grow wide.
“Oh. No, don’t worry!” He opens the bag and takes out a small container. Leaning forward, you feel blood rising up to your cheeks. “It’s just soup.”
After an awkward exchange, he leaves. Inhaling the delicious scent, you let out a dreamy sigh.
“He so likes her.”
-
“We might have been wrong.”
Lando tilts his head, curly strands bouncing at the motion. Daniel hurriedly takes a seat next to the Brit as he smacks his large hands on the table. “What do you mean, mate?”
Daniel scans the room quickly before shaking his head. “I mean, that I just heard them two. They were going at it.” Lando blushes as he lets out an awkward laugh. I don’t even want to know. The Australian bites back a smile as he continues. “Not like that. Yet. What I mean is that they’re back to square one. He’s being a complete dick.”
“Alright. Looks like we have to knock some sense into him.”
-
Go, Daniel mouths once Max enters the debrief room, eyes entertained on his phone screen. Pushing past the Dutch, Charles jogs over to where you sit next to George. “Hey!” Greeting him back with a warm smile, you pat to the open seat. “I was wondering if you wanted to grab a bite after this. Maybe some chicken soup?” You beam.
“I love a good soup!”
Rapidly, Max’s ears perk up as he hears your conversation with the Monegasque. He was well over the rivalry, but with this? He would not second guess bringing it back. He clenches his jaw as he notices you nodding along with Charles. Strolling over to the small group, he shoots a bitter grin.
“Did you see Christian’s message about our last minute meeting?”
“Hello to you, too.” Checking your phone, you look back confused with a pout. “No. I haven't received anything.”
“Yeah, well, there’s one-”
“No, there's not.” Flickering your eyes behind your teammate, you’re even more lost. With hands on his hips, Christian taps his shoe as his eyes flicker between his two Red Bull drivers. “Don’t mind him, sweetheart. There’s no meeting.” He sends a small wink at Charles before walking off to the rest of the team principles. Max slumps.
“Ha. Guess it got canceled or something like that…”
Rushing over Lando and Daniel, Charles hunches over as he starts blabbering. “Did it work? Please tell me it worked - God - I think I almost shit myself. Tell me it fucking wo-”
The Brit points discreetly to where Max paces the room, orbs trained on you like a guard dog.
“It’s definitely working.”
He smacks a one hundred dollar bill onto a large hand. 
“And thank you for the help, too, Mr. Horner.”
-
Despite the attempts to get you and Max together, nothing seemed to work. The blue eyed boy would appear to start registering his feelings, and at the last minute, would completely chicken out. It would be an outright lie to say that this didn’t entertain the Alpha Tauri and McLaren boys, but they also knew that they had to continue their fairy godparent duties.
“Watch it!”
Crashing onto the couch inside of the Red Bull Hospitality, Max’s face bounces against it. He groans in pain before throwing a harsh stare at his friends. Lando stiffles a giggle as Daniel raises his arms up in defense. Getting seated, the Dutch looks back with a sour expression. 
“What’s this hostile situation about?”
Lando panics as he turns to his mate. The Aussie licks his lips, patting his lap. “Look, we’ve noticed a few things-” What things? He huffs. “Maybe if you would just let me finish-” That’s what she said! He glares at Lando who slaps a hand over his mouth, tears from unreleased laughter painting his blue eyes. “As I was saying…We’ve noticed your behavior towards a special little someone…”
“Towards Heidi? Shit. I didn’t think it’d be that noticeable.”
Lando clicks his fingers rapidly before pointing at the Red Bull driver. “He’s trying to not talk about it because he knows where this is going!” No, I’m not, Max shrieks as his voice cracks. Blushing, he pushes his hat lower to his face.
“You like her!”
“You know I like Heidi! She’s good for you-”
“You know that’s not who we’re talking about.”
It’s silent for a while. Standing up, Daniel goes to sit next to the 26 year old. Running a hand over his face, Max’s sighs as he looks up. “I’m not…used to feeling this way, okay?” 
“That’s totally fine, but that doesn’t give you the right to treat her like a piece of gum stuck at the bottom of your shoe. She’s amazing. Could have anyone - and I mean anyone - but she likes you. I don’t know why or how, but she likes you.” Daniel scoots away when Max narrows his eyes.
“She doesn’t like me.”
Jumping over the coffee table, Lando plops down. “Yes! She does. Ask me how I know.” A bored expression slashes Max’s face as he asks anyway. How, Lando? How do you know? “Because she’s always fighting with you.”
Daniel clicks his tongue as he slowly squints his brown eyes. “I don’t think you’re making the point you think you’re making, mate.” The Brit waves him off.
“I’m dead serious. When she gets upset, she always walks away because she claims to not want to waste her time on stupid arguments. But with you,” he pushes his index finger against the Red Bull polo, “With you she never - ever - walks away. Sure, you’re both at each others throats, but that only means one thing.” He leans against the sofa as he takes a sip of the open energy drink. 
“She doesn’t mind wasting time on you.”
-
After some more convincing, the duo had managed to raise the 26 year olds confidence. They could be wrong. Embarrassingly wrong, but how would he ever know if he never tried? Taking in a deep breath, he finds himself knocking on your door.
“More soup?”
Sheepishly, he shakes his head. His heart skips a beat as he notices how laid back you seem. How relaxed you were. He was going to ruin all that. He was going to say something that would change everything and things might never be the sa-
“Wanna come in?”
Handing him a plate of cut up watermelon, you take a seat in front of him, legs tucked beneath your butt. What are you doing out so late at night, Mr. Max Verstappen? He sets the plate down as he forces himself to mold into his chair. 
“I’ve never hated you.”
You blink. Clearing his throat, he looks down to his lap as he fiddles his fingers. “I know I’ve been such a bad teammate - I know - but I promise that it never had to do with you.”
“Okay. So…then what did it have to do with?”
He lets out a croaky laugh as he shuts his eyes. “That’s the tough part…” Opening his blue eyes, he finds you staring back, waiting for an answer. “I feel the opposite of hate…towards you.” He hates the way your face doesn’t change and you remain still. He hates when you shrink back and chew on your lip.
But he could never find himself hating the moment you climb onto his lap.
“T-that’s not what I came here for-”
“I know.” You slide your hands against his stubble. “Your confession was…adorable. Had trouble saying those words out loud, right? Because you,” you strum your finger against his chest, “...You don’t have feelings. You don’t have a heart.”
Now he’s frowning as he tries to unravel your words. A giggle bubbles up your throat, eyes crinkling shut. His breath hitches. “I feel things…” Your heart twirls with the way his voice sounds. Sure you do, Maxie- 
Grabbing your face with his left hand, he kisses you. It’s hot, feverish, and impatient.
It’s him.
Whimpering, you grind against him as he groans underneath you. Forcing himself to pull away from your warm lips, he cocks his head to the side. “Was that enough proof?”
“I might need more.”
It’s such a moment of pure adrenaline, that you can’t even pinpoint the moment your hatred towards him had turned into lust. All you know is that it felt so good to be riding him. Squeezing your hips, he lifts you up as he lets out a strained moan. The sound itself makes you drip even more. 
You had always loved his voice. How croaky it was. But you never imagined that it would turn your entire world upside down to hear him moaning your name like a prayer. Oh, fuck. Holy shit. Pushing his hands down, he opens his eyes as he looks back, weak and concerned. He worries you might have suddenly regretted all of this. That you would walk away and never want to talk to him ever again. But he’s already kissed you. He’s already been inside of you. 
He would beg you to stay in order to make you keep it that way.
“B-baby.” He whimpers with the way you dig yourself against him before circling your hips. Slow. “It’s okay if you want to stop-” You slide his fingers into your mouth. He swears he could finish with such a pretty sight.
“I don’t want to. I just want you to say sorry for everything you’ve ever done to me.”
“I already said I never meant any of it! You’re absolutely everything to me.”
Your core grows tighter with his affirmations. Holding onto his broad shoulders, you continue your sinister rhythm. “Maybe. But I still want one.”
“I’m so-”
Rubbing your bare tits against his chest, he shudders as he harshly pinches your thigh. Try again. “I said I’m so-” Pulling all the way out, you slide back down onto his cock. “Oh - don’t fucking do that.”
“Try again.”
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m so fucking sorry.”
A satisfied smile slides onto your plump lips as you nod before kissing him and riding him the way you know he deserves. With one last hop, you both finish as he moans into your neck. Your fingers push his sweaty, blondish strands away before pressing your lips against his cheek. He smiles weakly.
“I like you, too.” You look down before returning your attention. “But I can’t be with you.”
“Wh-”
“Max. Let’s be realistic here. I’m a girl in Formula 1. You don’t know how hard I’ve worked to get here. I’ve had to do twice the work simply because I’m not a man.” You roll your eyes. “People are going to hate me. Call me names - God, I can already hear them.”
He never thought his heart could actually hurt for someone. You were really messing him up. He gingerly rubs small circles against your cheek.
“I’ll ruin whoever says anything bad about you, but please give this a chance. I’ve never wanted someone as bad as I do you. Please.”
And yes, there will be nasty comments. Hateful interpretations about your relationship. But that never really mattered as long as you had him. 
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vivwritesfics · 16 hours
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In Bloom
Chapter One
Max wasn't like other Hogwarts students. He was having to live with the terrible things his father had done. Everybody expected him to turn out like his father, but he was the furthest thing from. He just needed two people to see that
Lestappen X Reader
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Okay so this follows the basic plot of the Harry potter books (from memory), with some major differences to fit our drivers. A list of which Harry potter each driver relates to can be found HERE
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Max Verstappen could still remember the dread he felt as he stepped up to the sorting hat at just eleven years old. Everybody avoided him on the train, and he'd waited at the back of the queue to be sorted.
Not Slytherin, he thought as he climbed those stairs. Anything but Slytherin.
It came as no surprise that he was sorted into Slytherin. His entire family had been, and he was no different. 'There wasn't a witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin,' he'd heard somebody say before the sorting.
But even Slytherin didn't want him. He went to sit down and everybody shuffled away from him, giving him plenty of space. Even in his newfound house, even with the people that were supposed to be like his family, as professor Vettel had said, he felt alone.
Unable to look past his own dread, Max had failed to notice something. He failed to notice the boy with his hair covering his forehead and eyes, definitely impairing his vision. Even when the boys name was called, Max didn't notice.
He shouldn't have been surprised to hear the name 'Leclerc Charles' called. He was the boy that had defeated his father, after all. The whispers began as soon as his name was called. Gryffindor, his new house, cheered as he ran to join them. The same thing happened for Max just moments later, but without the cheering. They were like mythical creatures to the other students in the hall. Well, Charles was. Max was more like a circus freak.
First year for Max Verstappen was incredibly lonely. All anybody wanted to talk to him about was his father. They were all questions he couldn't answer because he didn't know his father. He had been destroyed when Max was only a year old.
Flying lessons were Max's favourite. He'd grown up watching Quidditch with his mother, even playing it sometimes. She'd played it for her entire life, up until she met Jos. It was in Max's blood. Max was determined to show Professor Button just what he could do to be put on the Slytherin team. No first year had ever made it onto the team before, he was determined to be the first.
Max tried to act shocked when Professor Button went to Professor Alonso, the head of Slytherin house, and begged him to put Max on the Qudditch team. "He's the best thing this schools ever seen!" Professor Button insisted.
Professor Alonso gave him a trial period. One match to prove he could keep up with the older kids on the team. For Max Verstappen, it was the easiest thing in the world.
This was the stuff of legend in Hogwarts. But it was overshadowed by Charles Leclerc and his idiot friends.
Max didn't know what happened to Charles, Esteban and Pierre under the school. It was all speculation and rumours. Nobody know whether they fought a dragon or found the legendary philosophers stone. Only Professor Schumacher knew that. Professor Schumacher and Charles.
Max heard all of the rumours. He ignored them as best he could. But there was one rumour that he couldn't shake. "Someone said that it was your dad Charles was fighting under the school," said Nikita, a fellow Sytherin and a massive dickhead. "Said he killed him, again."
Max couldn't stop his reaction. He leapt out of his seat in the common room and swung his fist at Nikita, hitting him square in the jaw. Nikita stumbled back, holding his jaw. Shock played on his face, but it soon turned into a smile. "You're going to regret," he started. "Didn't you know my father is close, personal friends with the minister?"
"I didn't ask, Nikita," Max spat as he walked away, leaving the common room all together.
First year wasn't all bad for Max. No, he made history on the Quidditch team and he made a few friends. Lando and Daniel, two Hufflepuffs with the widest smiles and hearts of gold.
He met Daniel first. He was maybe the first person Max had ever properly gotten along with. He found a kindred spirit in Daniel. He was maybe the funniest person Max had ever met.
Daniel had introduced Max to Lando halfway through their first year. Max had never had that connection with anybody. He finally knew what it was like to have friends, and it felt amazing. For the first time since arriving at the school, Max was himself. He was happy, funny, bubbly. Every joke Max cracked had Daniel folded at the waist, hands on his knees as he laughed.
Their friendship continued into Max and Lando's second year. Daniel was just that little bit older, going into his fourth year.
Second year was the first proper run in that Max had with Charles Leclerc. It had been a shit day for Max, Nikita was being an ass and his potions test scores were less than perfect. He was pissed at himself. His escape was the quidditch pitch. It was supposed to be empty. He could fly around, weaving in and out of the stands and goal hoops as much as he liked.
But he wasn't alone. No, somebody else was opening the box of quidditch supplies. Max hung back, watching to see what Charles did. He watched as Charles tucked the quaffle under his arm and mounted his broom.
He wasn't even on the quidditch team for his house. What was he doing there? But, the more Max watched, the more he understood. He watched as Charles flew around with skill. He did what Max was going to do, weaving around the stands and through the goal hoops, all with the quaffle tucked under his arm. It was no easy accomplishment. Max was thoroughly impressed.
He gave Charles a nod as he mounted his broom and flew around. They stayed away from each other that time, practiced without disturbing one another.
As soon as Max was done, he rushed to Professor Buttons office. He was still in his quidditch robes, his fingers a little frozen as he held his broom. "Professor," he called as he knocked on the door. "Can I talk to you?"
Max would never tell Charles Leclerc that he was the reason he was on the quidditch team. They hadn't spoken two words to each other yet, Max couldn't imagine a time where they'd be that friendly.
In his second year of Quidditch Max proved himself to be better than anyone expected. But, with the addition of Charles to the Gryffindor team, Slytherin finally had some real competition.
But the year wasn't all sparkles and rainbows. Not when the attacks started. Muggleborns being petrified, it was terrifying.
When the chamber of secrets was opened, everybody turned to Max. His father had opened it last time, hadn't he? So it only made sense that he opened it this time.
Those were the first words Charles Leclerc spoke to him. "Did you open the chamber of secrets?"
Mac couldn't hide the shock on his face. "Are you kidding me? Why would I want to attack muggleborns?" One of his best friends was muggleborn, for goodness sake.
But still, Charles wouldn't leave it alone. Things only got worse when Esteban was petrified. Charles cornered Max, demanded he fixed what he had done. All Max could do was express condolences and walk away.
But then Daniel was petrified. "Fuck," Max choked out when Lando told him. He followed him to the hospital wing and rushed straight to Daniels side. He wouldn't leave, not until his best friend was up and moving. The nurses were too afraid of him to pull him away.
Golden boy Charles saved the day. He found out who had been opening the chamber, a little first year who had no control over her actions. A cure for the petrifications was made using Mandrakes and Esteban and Daniel were on their feet just before the end of the year.
Max had been avoiding Charles. Ever seen his confronted him over Esteban, he wanted nothing to do with him. He and everyone else would always see him as the villain. It was so sad to learn that at just twelve years old.
But Charles found him. He cornered him once again, but this time, his expression was soft. "I'm sorry," he said.
Max looked at the floor, his jaw tight.
"It was wrong of me to assume that you're the one who opened the chamber. I realise that now," he continued.
Max let out something of a snort. "Just because my dad is a monster, it doesn't mean I am," was all he said. He pushed past him, trying to get away, trying to get to the end of year feast. But, before he could get too far, he stopped and turned back towards Charles. "If you want any chance of beating us in Quidditch next year, you should get a haircut, stop it from going in your eyes."
Just before the start of their third year, mass murderer Nico Rosberg escaped from Azkaban. Max remembered reading it in the paper. He read the headline out loud and his mother let the plate she was holding slip from her grasp. "Nico got out?" She asked as she rushed over.
Max nodded his head and showed her the paper. "I wanna know how he got past the dementors," he said with curiosity. He then turned to his mother. "Did you know him?"
It wasn't often she spoke about her time with Jos. From the little bits Max knew, it was awful and Max was the only good thing to come from it.
She shook her head. "He started Hogwarts just as I was finishing. I remember hearing his name a lot. He was always causing some sort of trouble with his best friend."
Max dropped the topic. The news article had said that Nico had been a supporter of his father. If he was out, maybe he was going to try and finish the job on Charles.
At the first feast of the year, a new teacher was introduced. Professor Hamilton, the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher for the year. But that wasn't all. Max watched from the Slytherin table as Lando walked into the hall, his arm around a pretty girl. He knew Lando had other friends, had seen him with this girl a few times. But he didn't know her, not at all.
It was indescribable how pretty she was. Max's eyes followed as she sat herself down between Lando and his other Hufflepuff friend, Max (Fewtrell).
Max tried really hard not to stare, but it was damn near impossible. She was his very first crush, and he didn't even know her name.
For the few classes he shared with Hufflepuff, Max tried to get Lando to tell him her name. Maybe it was because Lando wasn't the sharpest tool in the box, but he just wasn't getting it. Max was being as obvious as he could be, without saying anything at all.
The day he learnt her name was the same day that he watched her run up to Chatles Leclerc and plant a kiss on his cheek. Maxs face fell. She was his first crush, and she was with somebody else. That was just his luck.
She was with Charles, that was clear. Max saw the way he placed his arm over her shoulders while they talked with Lando. So, why the hell was Lando introducing her to Max in the middle of charms?
She held her hand out to him, a lovely smile on her face. "I can't believe you two haven't met before," Lando said as he sat on the table.
Max couldn't quite believe he was shaking her hand. He had no clue what to say to her and, in a desperate bid to make a good first impression, he made a terrible one
But it didn't matter. The next time Max saw her was care of magical creatures with professor Brown. As with every lesson, Nikita made an ass of himself. Max couldn't help but shut him down, and that seemed to impress her.
But Nikita didn't know when to quit. It was his fault the beast struck him. It was his fault he'd sustained such an injury to his arm.
It was all he could talk about for the next few weeks. Max didn't know what would happen to the beast that had 'attacked' Nikita. Nikita boasted about a trial, about the beast being put to death. Of course, Max didn't believe it, not until he saw her crying about it.
She was too pretty to cry, Max thought as he watched her across the hall. She sat at the Gryffindor table, leaning against Charles as he rubbed her back. That should have been him, Max couldn't help but selfishly think.
On the day of the beasts execution, Max followed her and Charles down to Professor Brown's hut. He stayed behind them, watching as she swung her fist towards Nikita. Good, he thought. It was what that prick deserved.
She and Charles didn't notice him as they stepped into Professor Brown's hut. But Professor Brown did. "Come on in, Max," he said, stepping aside to let her and Charles see him.
Charles didn't scowl, like Max had expected. He gave him a sad smile as she stepped towards him, holding him. "It's awful, Max," she sobbed against his shirt. "They're going to kill him because Nikita is an asshole."
Max stood there, looked at Charles over the top of the head. There was a minute before he wrapped his arms around her and squeezed slightly.
"I found something of yours," said Professor Brown as he guided her away from Max. He grabbed a shoe box and opened it up, revealing her pet rat.
She didn't show up to Hogwarts with an owl, cat, rat or toad. This rat she had found at the station and, in a bid of desperation, she picked him up. He was so tame, she figured he had to be a magical rat.
Before they knew it, they were being ushered out of the hut by Professor Brown. They hid behind shrubbery as Professor Schumacher, the head master, brought Bernie Ecclestone, the minister, and the executioner, down to the hut.
As soon as the three of them had their backs to the students, Max and Charles got her back to the castle. They got halfway there before the sound of the axe hitting something stopped them.
Her gasp rang in the boys ears and she turned towards Charles, burying her face in his chest as she cried. "It's okay, chérie. I've got you."
But, suddenly, he didn't have her. Suddenly she was on the floor, screaming as a vicious, hairy beast dragged her towards the womping willow, its jaws clamped around her leg. Charles screamed her name as he ran after her, but the tree fought back.
Fuck, Max thought as he ran after Charles. The tree attacked them however it could, keeping them away from the tunnel the beast had dragged her down.
Charles dodged those he could, but one smacked him in the chest and he went flying back, the air knocked from his lungs when he landed. Max had gotten closer to the tunnel entrance. He jumped over the trees limbs when they came towards him, getting to the tunnel entrance in minutes.
But he couldn't leave Charles behind. The tree didn't fight him as he ran back towards him. "Come on," Max grunted, grabbing Charles's hand and pulling him to his feet.
The tree once again tried to stop them. Max kept a hold of Charles's hand, pulling him around the attacking limbs. They ducked and dodged and jumped. But one limb managed to knock them both over. Max immediately grabbed the limb and Charles grabbed a hold of him.
They were lifted into the air, the tree trying to throw them off. But it was doing do in a pattern, one Max easily deciphered. "Hold on!" He shouted to Charles, who just squeezed him tighter.
At the right moment Max let go of the branch, falling into the tunnel entrance. Charles was right behind him, landing on top of him. "Sorry," Charles said, taking his hand and helping him up. He pulled his wand from his back pocket and held it out in front of him. "Lumos," he whispered and the tunnel lit up.
Holding his wand out in front of them, Charles led the way through the tunnel. They followed paw prints until they weren't paw prints anymore, but feet, the soles of battered shoes against the dirt.
When they got to a set of old and unstable steps, Max and Charles looked at each other. She was up there, she had to be.
"Nox," Charles whispered. The first step creaked under his foot and he nervously looked to Max. But they climbed the stairs anyway. The closer they got to the top of the stairs, they more they could hear her pained gasps. The two of them hurried.
Charles couldn't stop himself from kicking the door open. "Charles, Max, no!" She cried, grasping her bloody leg. "It's a trap, he's an animagus!"
As the door swung shut behind them, Max and Charles turned around. There he was, his striped jumpsuit tattered and dirty. The smile he wore was grim and his blonde hair was long and disgusting.
Immediately, Max and Charles put their bodies between her and Rosberg. The escaped convict's smile only grew as he took a step forward. "Move aside." His eyes were focused on Max. "It's not you that I want."
But Max stood in front of them protectively. "If you want to get to either of them, you have to go through me."
Rosberg laughed. "Stupid boy," he said through his laugh. "I don't want either of them, I want him," he said, pointing at her.
Her body tembled as she held her mangled leg. The rat in her pocket was squeaking uncontrollably. "I-I'm a girl!" She cried.
But Rosberg let out an exasperated sigh. He lifted his wand.
"Expelliarmus!"
Professor Hamilton, that years defence against the dark arts teacher, stood in the door way. It wasn't a surprise that none of them heard him coming up the stairs, not with the way adrenaline was running through them.
Professor Hamilton looked at the kids and then at Rosberg. And then he dropped his wand and stepped forwards, pulling him into his embrace. "Good to see you, old friend," he said, clapping him on the back.
"What the fuck?" Max couldn't help himself. He held his wand out in front of him. "I trusted you, and this entire time you've been working with him? You've been on my dad's side, too?"
"Max, you don't understand," Hamilton replied, holding his hand up. "This entire time I thought that Nico did all of those terrible things. But then Charles came to me and said he saw someone on the map that I believed to be dead. Sergio Perez."
"Well, the map was wrong, then!" Charles called. He had migrated over to her, crouching by her side. She wasn't okay and there was nothing he could do.
Hamilton shook his head. "The map never lies," he said. "It could only mean one thing, Charles. That Checo was alive and he was the reason your parents are dead."
Slowly, Charles stood up. He pulled his wand from his pocket as he walked forward. "That's not true," he said. "It couldn't have been him because he died. Rosberg killed him and all they could find was-"
"A finger! Chopped it off and escaped into the sewers, he did," Rosberg finished.
Hamilton looked past them as Charles tried to process everything in his mind. "Your rat, please," said Hamilton as he looked at her.
"What? No! What do you want with him?" She cried as she pulled him from her pocket and held him close to her chest. But Professor Hamilton was still advancing, reaching for the rat.
It was Charles that stopped him. He held his hand up, asking Professor Hamilton to just give him a moment, before crouching down to her height. "Please, chérie. I need you to trust me," he said, reaching for the rat.
For just a moment, she stared at Charles. He thought he was going to have to pry the rat from her hands and lose her trust forever. But she willingly gave the rat to Charles, who handed it to Professor Hamilton.
"We do this together," said Rosberg as he grabbed his wand from the floor.
"Expelliarmus!"
Once again, Rosbergs wand went flying out of his hands. Hamilton kept ahold of the rat as they wheeled around to find the head of Slytherin house.
"I told Schumacher," Alonso began as he walked into the room. "I said from the minute you arrived that you were trouble. And here you are, helping your old friend into the castle. Well, Lewis, you can have Nico's old cell once the dementors give him that kiss. I've heard they're looking forward to it. Got a cell in the tower waiting for you."
"Oh, piss off, little Nando no mates," Nico spat, but suddenly Fernando had his wand against his neck. Instantly, Nico stilled.
Fernando turned his attention to the kids. "You three, get back to the castle."
But they weren't going anywhere. Max knew it, Charles knew it, and she couldn't move.
Fernando quickly turned his attention back to Lewis and Nico. Before he could begin talking, Charles had raised his wand. "Expelliarmus!"
It was just meant to disarm Alonso, not send him flying back into the wall, knocking him out cold. "Shit, Charles," Max said through something of a grin. "You attacked a teacher."
But Charles didn't care about that. "Show me Perez," he demanded.
Hamilton and Rosberg were only too happy to oblige. Hamilton placed the rat onto the floor. He and Rosberg pointed their wands at the rat, sending silent spells in his direction.
The rat kept going, seemingly dodging the magic. But then, he wasn’t a rat at all. It wasn't clear which one cast the incantation, but a small-ish man in tattered clothing stood in the place of the rat. The most damning piece of evidence? His missing finger.
Charles couldn't quite believe his eyes. So Rosberg hadn't been the cause of his parents death. It had been Perez all along. Rosberg was an innocent nan, wrongfully imprisoned for all of those years.
"We do this together," said Rosberg. Hamilton nodded and, together, they pointed their wands at Perez.
"No, no, no!" He cried, scurrying across the floor. He quickly moved past Charles,towards her. "Girl, sweet girl," he said as she attempted to shuffle away from him. But, with her leg, she couldn't get far enough. "You won't let them hurt me, will you?"
Max pushed Perez away from her. "Leave her alone," he said through something of a snarl.
"Don't kill him," Charles said as he looked to Hamilton and Rosberg. "Take him to the castle. The dementors can have him and you could go free," he said, eying Rosberg.
Rosberg couldn't quite believe it. He cast a spell that bound Perez and lifted Alonso into the air.
"Oh, chérie," Charles whispered. He leaned forward to kiss her forehead before lifting her into his arms. She let out a small cry as Charles adjusted her, her injured leg brushing against his arm. But she locked her arms around his neck.
Max led the way. His wand was out, light coming from it as tye group of seven made their way back through the tunnel towards the school. Periodically Max turned around, looking at Charles as he carried her. That should have been him, he thought again.
Max climbed out of the tunnel first. He turned taking her body from Charles. One by one they climbed out of the tunnel. She stood on her uninjured leg as Alonso's still unconscious body was placed on the ground. Rosberg and Hamilton wandered a little way away from the group,the two of them looking up at the castle.
"How're you feeling, chérie?" Charles asked. He hardly called her by any other name. She gave a weak, pained smile. That was all Charles needed before he was pulling her body into his own, letting her rest against him.
Suddenly, Hamilton made a noise. A low, guttural noise, something inhuman. He looked away from the castle, his jaw slack and his eyes distant as he stared at the moon. The full moon.
"Shit," Rosberg hissed. Max stood to attention, placing himself between the changing werewolf and his friends. "Lewis, not now!" Nico cried wrapping his arms around him, as if trying to hold him together. "Any time but now!"
But Hamilton was still changing. His limbs were elongating, a thin layer of hair covering his skin. His clothes were shredded from his skin as his snout formed and hid ears sharpened.
Realising that he could do nothing, Nico let go out Lewis. He transformed into his animagus form, putting himself between the werewolf and the students.
At first, Hamilton barely moved. His breathing was heavy as he took just a moment to recover from the transformation.
As best as she could, she hopped forwards. "Chérie," Charles hissed in warning, trying to keep a hold of her.
She couldn't push him away, couldn't stand on her own as she looked at the werewolf. "Professor?" She called. "Professor Hamilton?"
The beast raised its head. The howl it let out echoed around the castle grounds. It was enough to rouse Professor Alonso from his temporary time out. "You!" He cried, pointing an accusing finger at Charles. Charles, who didn't much care, Charles, who was more concerned with getting her as close to him as possible.
When Alonso turned and around saw the beast, he threw his arms protectively around the three of them, keeping them behind him. There wasn't much else he could do but watch, his body shielding them, as Nico jumped at the beast.
The werewolf immediately threw him off, but Nico came back, this time doing damage. But again, the werewolf tossed him to one side. This time, Nico didn't get back up.
With his threat neutralised, the werewolf turned his attention back to the four of them. He got down onto all fours and slowly stalked forward. His slow pace only seemed to indicate that he was toying with them, that, no matter what they did, they were his prey.
Suddenly, from way in the distance, there was a howl. Hamilton turned towards it. He howled once more himself before he took off, running in the direction the howl had come from and completely ignoring his once prey.
As soon as Hamilton was gone, Charles passed her to Max. "Get her to the hospital wing!" He shouted as he took off running.
"Leclerc!" Alonso bellowed, but he made no move to go after him. "Get back here!"
But Charles was gone, disappearing off to wherever Nico was.
Her arms locked around Max's neck as he picked her up. Suddenly he was thinking quidditch for the useful muscles it had given him. "I'm sorry to put you through all of this," she whispered as her head fell against his shoulder.
He shook his head. "You didn't put me through anything," he replied. He so desperately wanted to kiss her head like he had seen Charles do. "Besides, if I wasn't here Professor Alonso would be carrying you. Do you really want that?" He asked and she let out a little giggle.
A small amount of pride blossomed in his chest.
At the hospital wing Max was asked to leave. But he refused. There was no way in hell he was just going to leave her. It was the only time he threw his name around to get his way.
At some point in the night Charles was brought into the hospital wing. He looked awful, like he had tried to drive a race car after suffering from appendicitis. But the nurse had confirmed that he was alive.
Max didn't sleep much that night. He stayed up, watching over his friends, recounting the events. It wasn't Nico Rosberg who had killed all of those people in the name of his father. It was Sergio Perez. Perez had gotten away in the commotion of their teacher being a fucking werewolf. It was crazy, but Max didn't know how he hadn't spotted it soon. Lupin took a few days a month off, Max just didn't notice that they were around the time of a full moon.
But Perez had gotten away, his father's loyal dog had gotten away, and Max would never forgive himsed.
He didn't know when he had fallen asleep. But, when he woke up, Pierre and Esteban sat around Charles. "I can't believe you went with him instead of us," Pierre muttered as he gestured to Max. Max simply sat up straighter, scowling in return.
"He saved her," was all Charles said as he nodded towards the girl sleeping beside Max.
The three of them continued to talk, and Max tried his best not to listen in. But it was harder than it looked when he constantly heard his name being dropped. They could fucking talk about him, he didn't care. By this point, he just didn't care.
When the doors flew open and Professor Schumacher strode in, Esteban and Pierre stood up. "Esteban, Pierre," the professor said. They said goodbye to Charles and walked past their head teacher. But, before they could get too far, Professor Schumacher grabbed a hold of Pierre. What he said to Pierre was too hushed for anybody else to hear, but it had him pulling something from beneath his shirt and striding towards the boys.
"Max, Charles," he said and Max left his chair, coming to stand beside Charles. Wordlessly, Professor Schumacher placed something over their heads.
Max picked up the necklace. "A time turner?"
"What's a time turner?" Asked Charles.
But Professor Schumacher didn't answer his question. "Two turns should do it," he said. "And you should be able to set everything right. Remember, don't let anybody see you," he said and strode out of the hospital wing.
Max turned the time turner. "How on earth did Pierre get one of these?" He asked as he spun it twice, and the room around them moved backwards. Professor Alonso carried Charles out of the hospital wing and Max took her back outside. Other students came and left, time still turning around them.
When it, at last, stilled, Max pulled the time turner from around their necks and placed it in his pocket. "Come on," he said as he grabbed Charles's hand.
As he pulled him out of the hospital wing, Max checked the time on his watch. "It's 5PM, where were we at five?"
Charles took a moment to think. "Ugh, I know I was taking her down to see Zac," he answered. "She punched Nikita."
Knowing exactly where to go, Max pulled Charles along. He pulled him through the halls, towards where they already were. But, suddenly, Max stopped. "Wha-" Charles began, but Max put his hand over his mouth, silencing him as he pulled him into an alcove.
The Max from before, the one that had been following Charles and her, turned for just a second. But, when she swung at Nikita, it distracted him long enough for the Max from the future to pull Charles outside.
"Max, what the hell?" Charles hissed as they watched Nikita and his friends run away. Charles from the past had his hand on the small of her back as he moved her along, heading to Zacs, Professor Brown's, hut. Max from the past followed. "That's us!"
"You're incredibly observant," Max quipped as he grabbed his hand once more. "I suppose you can see now you've cut your hair."
Charles let out a scoff, but Max was pulling him along once again, into the woods just opposite Zac's hut.
Nobody saw them, nobody but Rocky, the hippogriff. He raised his head and snorted, but quickly went back to sleep. "We can save him, too," Charles realised. "Him and Nico."
He strode forward and sent to grab the chain that kept Rocky tethered to the garden, but Max stopped him. "Professor Schumacher and the minister need to see him first, or you'll get Fred arrested," he whispered. Charles clenched his fists at his sides, but he nodded.
They watched as Fred pulled the rat from the box and handed it to her. There he was, Sergio Perez. Max and Charles looked at each other, their thoughts much the same. But they held back, and not just because the headmaster and the minister were coming.
They watched as the three of them left the hut. As the minister and Schumacher conversed with Fred, Charles and Max ran into the vegetable garden and grabbed a hold of Rocky's chain. "Come on, Rocky," Charles hissed, but the creature insisted on sleeping. It was only when Max bribed him with food that he followed them into the woods.
A sliver of satisfaction ran through them when the execution brought his axe down onto a bit of wood in anger. Rocky was safe, and all they had to do was wait.
It was surreal, watching everything that had happened. They watched as Nico, the dog, grabbed her leg and dragged her beneath the tree. They watched as they struggled to follow her.
"Can I ask you something?" Max enquired as he sat on the ground beside him. Rocky was behind them, playing in the trees. When Charles nodded his head, he continued. "Last year, you asked me if I opened the chamber. Do you really think I'm that much of a monster? Do you really think I'm that much like my dad?"
Charles let out an audible sigh. "I feel awful for that," he said as he lent back against the tree behind him. "All I know about your dad is that he's the reason my parents are dead. I'd met him in first year and, well, I still have nightmares about it. Of I had known you last year like I do now, I wouldn't have dreamed of blaming you."
They talked, actually talked, until Professor Hamilton came to the tree. "Did you have any idea he was a werewolf?" Max asked and Charles shook his head.
He pulled the time turner from his pocket. "Do you know why Pierre would have that?" Charles asked as he reached out to touch it.
Max shrugged his shoulders. "It makes sense, though. Pierre has been in so many classes this year, more than he should have had time for. This must be how he's being going to them all."
Next, Professor Alonso came by, and then, minutes later, they were all making their way out of the tree. "Thanks for looking after her," said Charles as he watched himself hand her to Max.
Max waved him off.
But it wasn't long before Professor Hamilton started his transformation. "Fuck," Max whispered as he watched Nico try and fail to protect them. What happened when they were up there? Something had howled, but no howl was coming. "Shit, get ready to run," he said to Charles before cupping his hands around his mouth and letting out a mighty howl.
The werewolf looked, but he didn't immediately begin running towards them. So, Max did it again.
The beast howled back and suddenly it was running towards them. "We're going to die out here," said Charles.
"Yep," Max agreed and the two boys took off running. But they didn't get very far, not before the werewolf caught up to them.
Their hearts were beating, blood so loud in their ears that they were sure the werewolf could hear them. Max squeezed his eyes shut, unable to keep them opened. He was incredibly grateful when Charles pulled him further around the tree they were hiding behind.
All they could hear was their werewolf Professor sniffing around behind them. It was the only indication that they were somewhat safe. But then, the sniffing stopped and the growls began. The two turned, almost paralysed with fear as the werewolf stood to its full height. "Professor," Charles began, but he was no longer human.
He moved towards them and they tried to back up. He raised a large, clawed hand, but he didn't get a chance to bring it down, to strike them. Not before Rocky jumped in front of them, using his large talons to fend off the beast.
Whimpering, the werewolf ran off. "Go Rocky!" Charles called as the hippogriff pranced in front of him.
Max checked the time on his watch. "Come on," he said, once again reaching for Charles's hand. Over the course of the evening he'd noticed just how much he'd enjoyed that, enjoyed holding Charles's hand. "We've got to get back to the castle."
But Charles ripped his hand away from Max. "We need to go and save Nico!" He called before he took off running. "Someone was there, Max! Someone cast a patronus and fended off the dementors! I need to know who it is!"
But, when they got to the lake, nobody was there. Just Charles from the past cradling Nico's body as dementors fed off of them. "Charles!" Max called.
"They're coming to help! I know they are!"
But Charles from the past and Nico looked terrible, close to the end. "Charles, you're dying. And nobody's coming," he said softly.
Charles bit his lip as he looked at Max. He sucked in one steady breath and ran over to the edge of the lake. He raised his wand, drew in a deep breath and bellowed, "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"
It was an incredible sight. Max knew Charles was capable of some serious magic, he just didn't realise it was this serious. All of the dementors left the scene just in time for Professor Alonso to lift the unconscious Charles and Nico away from the scene.
Nico, they could still save Nico. "Come on!" Charles shouted as he climbed onto Rocky's back. Taking Max's hand, he pulled him onto Rocky's back and he secured his arms around him.
Rocky flew them out of the woods. "Where would Alonso put Nico?" Max shouted over the sounds of the wind.
"When we were in the shack, he said something about the tower," Charles called back.
That was exactly where Rocky took them. As he landed them outside of the cell, Max slipped from Rocky's back and cast a spell to open the door.
Immediately, Nico ran out to them. "Thank you," he said to them. "Both of you. If it wasn't for your bravery, I would have lost my life."
"Quick, take Rocky and go, before the dementors come," Charles said. He helped Nico onto the Hippogriff's back. Immediately they took off, and Charles and Max began running, heading back to the hospital wing.
When they got there, Professor Schumacher was pulling the doors shut behind him. "We did it," said Charles, his hands on his knees. "We saved both of them."
Professor Schumacher looked at the both of them. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he said and took his leave, leaving the boys standing there.
Charles released a breath. "I can't believe we actually did it," he said, grinning at Max. "Should we go and tell her all about it?"
Max nodded his head and Charles pushed his way into the hospital wing. He watched, frozen in place as he strode across the room, over to her. Suddenly, Max didn't feel so jealous as he watched Charles run his fingers through her hair.
That was when he realised, he liked boys, too.
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itaipava · 4 months
Text
— f1 boys giving you the partner privilege.
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˒ ⌕ LANDO NORRIS:
he hates to be interrupted while playing, but you are always an exception; when you arrive in the room he always looks quickly at you and takes a headset out of his ear, attentive to anything you are going to say. if you are sad or discouraged. he lets you sit on his lap and he listens intently to everything you have to say. but if you want, he’ll even turn off the computer/video game because he really cares about you - but he’s a little upset that you made him left the game when he was about to win, but he put this aside and focus on you; because what matters most is you, and always you.
˒ ⌕ DANIEL RICCIARDO:
shows you off in every way possible - honestly, most of the time he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. he’s always looks in love with you like ‘wow, you’re so perfect for me’. he also gets his eyes in his heart looking at you but still doesn’t understand how people guessed you were dating… but he honestly doesn’t complain, it just makes him show you even more to others because he wants to show everyone that he has the world in his hands.
˒ ⌕ CARLOS SAINZ:
he would give you anything you want; are you looking for a certain food or drink? he’s already getting it for you without question. it’s movie night and you want to watch a movie that no one else wants to watch? one way or another he’s going to make sure you’re watching that movie. he just wants to see you happy - and also because he likes to pamper you. the second you arrive, his friends are rolling their eyes because they know how much he’s wrapped around your finger, just a fool in love.
˒ ⌕ CHARLES LECLERC:
he gives you all his love and affection; it’s like he freely gives his heart to you, when it comes to you, he’d give you the entire galaxy if he could. he would let you do anything; playing with his hair, stealing his clothes, eating his last piece of pizza. he is also more affectionate physically like; he gives you long and warm hugs, soft and long kisses until you lose your breath, plays with your hair while he look through his phone, pulls you into his lap… he loves you with all his heart, and only you.
˒ ⌕ LEWIS HAMILTON:
he brings small gifts constantly. he can’t stop thinking about you and in everything he sees he sees you; whether it’s a coffee at that coffee shop at the end of the street that he knows you like, or that flower he saw in a tree on his way home. every little gift has meaning and a little bit of his heart. he just walks into the room with the sweetest smile to say ‘i have something for you, love’
˒ ⌕ OSCAR PIASTRI
you are the only person who sees his true side; the fun, spontaneous and loving side of him. you’re one of the few people who’s ever heard his spontaneous laugh or his bad jokes. or made him slow dance in the kitchen with you. you are the only person he allows himself to be, you are always the one for him.
˒ ⌕ MAX VERSTAPPEN:
he wants your presence all the time; it’s not that he’s suffocating you, it’s just that he wants to be surrounded by you all the time. like he could literally spend 48 hours locked in a room with you and still feel like he needs more time - like no you can’t leave, we’re not done yet. no matter how much time you spend with him, it will never be enough for him and he will never get tired of your delightful presence; he truly cherishes you and wants nothing more than to give you all of the love he can for as long as possible. your existence alone to him is so mesmerizing, he really doesn’t understand how you’re his or what he did to deserve you.
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pucksandpower · 6 months
Note
hiii! with the chaos that was today’s career, could I request one with driver reader that she started telling her team that she wasn’t feeling good but still wanted to continue but the next moment she isn’t answering her radio because she fainted in the car and the car goes out, the marshals take her out of the car and she doesn’t wake up, maybe she has extreme dehydration and is hot to touch, etc.
How the other drivers react when they found out, her team, etc.
Thank you
Too Hot To Handle
Max Verstappen x Red Bull driver!Reader
Summary: the Qatar Grand Prix pushed every driver to the limit … and some past the limit
Warnings: heat stroke, dehydration, crash, medical conditions
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The Lusail International Circuit hums with electric anticipation, its asphalt ribbon shimmering under the floodlights. The roar of the crowd fills the night but the oppressive heat weighs on everyone, creating a contrasting atmosphere of excitement and cautious apprehension.
Standing alongside your Red Bull Racing car, you wipe a bead of sweat from your brow. In only your first year with the reigning double champions, you already have a record that has quickly become the talk of the paddock. But for all the praise and whispers, there is one voice that stands out.
“Remember, liefje, it’s not just about speed tonight. Keep hydrated, alright?” Max’s voice is full of warmth and concern. His hand rests gently on your arm.
You flash him a confident smile even though you’re battling your nerves internally. “I’ve raced in heat before, Maxie. I won in Singapore. I’ll be fine.”
He pulls you into a quick embrace, the temperature doing little to dampen the spark between you. “It’s different here. This heat ... it’s like nothing I’ve ever raced in before.”
Pulling back, you raise an eyebrow teasingly. “You worried about me, Verstappen?”
He laughs but there’s a hint of steely seriousness in his blue eyes. “Always. Just ... promise me you’ll be careful out there. For both our sakes.”
You nod, touching your helmet to his. “Promise.”
The intercom in your ear crackles to life. “Drivers, to your cars!”
You both exchange a final glance. Racing is in your blood, it’s what brought you together, but it also keeps you apart, if only for the few hours you’re no longer partners in life but competitors on track.
Sliding into your car, you secure your helmet and gloves. The world outside becomes a bit muffled but your focus sharpens. The engine’s purr is a familiar comfort, but tonight, it’s edged with the unease Max’s words left behind.
Your race engineer, Hugh Bird, checks in over the radio, “Everything good, Y/N?”
You take a deep breath, “As good as it’ll ever be. Let’s light up this track.”
“Give them a show.”
Lights out and away we go.
***
The Qatar Grand Prix unfolds with its usual mix of intensity and skill, drivers navigating tight turns and overtaking with precision. But beneath the spectacle, a subtle tension mounts. The oppressive heat, the stark floodlights, and the weight of expectation — all of it seems to be building to something.
In the garage and on the pit wall, your team closely monitors the race and your performance. Hugh occasionally chimes in with updates, “You’re doing great, Y/N. Remember to hydrate whenever you need to.”
You nod even though he can’t see it, “Understood. The heat’s something else in here.”
A pause. Then, “Just keep stead. And Max told GP to tell me to tell you to remember what he said.”
A smile touches your lips, “I always do.”
***
The track is a blur as you push your car to its limits, feeling the adrenaline surge in tandem with the roar of the engines. It’s as if the heat has seeped into your very core, burning with intensity. Each lap feels slightly longer, every turn a tad sharper, as the humid air takes its toll.
“Y/N,” Hugh radioes through, sounding distant and slightly distorted by the pounding in your head, “you’re P2. Great pace. Remember to sip some water.”
A trickle of sweat runs down the side of your face, stinging your eye. Blinking rapidly, you reach for the button that activates your hydration system.
“Got it,” your voice sounds foreign even to your own ears. The water is lukewarm and tastes metallic, not as refreshing as you had hoped.
“Just keep doing what you’re doing,” he urges.
With every lap, the world outside your visor seems to grow brighter, the floodlights shimmering like mirages in a desert. The race has become a battle, not just against other drivers but against the environment and, increasingly, against yourself.
“You’re dropping pace. Is everything alright?” Hugh’s concerned voice crackles through.
A knot tightens in your stomach. “I don’t know. I ...” You trail off, the words catching in your throat as a wave of overwhelming dizziness hits.
You can hear the alarm in your engineer’s voice becoming more pronounced. “Y/N, talk to me. Do we need to pit?”
The heat wraps around you, constricting, making it difficult to breathe. Your hands, slick with sweat, struggle to grip the wheel even through your gloves. “Guys ... I don’t ... feel ...” The world spins and your words falters.
“Y/N? Y/N, talk to me!”
But before you can respond, before you can even finish your sentence, the world tilts and blurs into an incomprehensible whirlwind. The sweltering heat, the relentless pursuit of victory, and the weight of expectation converge into a maelstrom that engulfs you entirely.
Your hands, once deftly steering the RB19, now hang limply by your sides. The car veers off the track, careening towards the barriers. Panic rises in you but it’s too late. Your body refuses to act.
The deafening sound of metal against metal fills your ears, followed by the nauseating sensation of impact. The world outside your cockpit twists and spins, a kaleidoscope of colors and chaos. Then, abruptly, it all goes dark.
In the garage, your team watches in horror as the monitors show the violent crash. The radio falls silent, the connection severed. In that heartbeat, the world goes eerily quiet, punctuated only by the distant echoes of screeching tires and the blaring alarms.
Moments pass like hours and finally the static on the radio clears, replaced by your frantic race engineer, “—please respond. Y/N? Are you okay?”
But there’s no response. Your world remains shrouded in darkness as the circuit comes to a standstill, gripped by an eerie silence that drowns out even the most deafening of cheers.
The track is plunged into chaos. Red flags wave fervently, signaling danger. Marshals rush towards your wrecked car, their fluorescent jackets contrasting brightly against the night.
“Get her out! Get her out!” One of the marshals shouts as they reach your car. Your limp form is carefully extracted and they begin immediate first aid. The severity of the situation is clear — the heat, the dehydration, it’s all taken its toll.
The crowd watches, a collective gasp filling the air soon replaced by a thick, heavy silence. As your unconscious form is stretchered away, the weight of all those warnings crashes down.
Back on the pit wall, four words whispered into the radio are the first of many about to turn your boyfriend’s world upside down.
“Safety car, safety car.”
***
“Max, we’re pitting this lap. Box, box,” the calm, steady voice of Gianpiero Lambiase, Max’s race engineer, instructs over the radio.
Max’s voice is curt, his mind still on the race. “Why? Tires feel fine.”
“Non-negotiable. Safety car is out. We need you to pit now.”
The urgency in GP’s voice is not lost on Max and he immediately senses that something is wrong. “What happened? Why is there a safety car?”
Silence follows for a heartbeat too long. “There was an incident. Just focus on your race.”
An icy dread seeps into Max’s bones. The circuit is massive yet his world feels terribly small at this moment. “Who was it? Who crashed?”
His engineer hesitates, and in that pause, the weight of a thousand possibilities presses on Max.
“Who. Was. It?”
GP wavers, “It’s … Y/N.”
Max’s breathing becomes ragged. Panic and fear flood his system. “Why the hell wasn’t I told immediately?”
“It was team orders. The decision was made to keep you focused on the race.”
Max laughs but it lacks any humor. “Team orders? You’re saying Christian decided not to tell me that Y/N ... my Y/N is hurt?”
“Yes,” the reply is uncharacteristically soft, “It was believed to be in everyone’s best interest for you to be fully focused on the race.”
Max has never felt such white-hot rage. He spits into the radio, seething with fury and pain. “You tell Christian that if he ever makes a decision like that again about someone I love, I’ll cut his balls off with a rusty spoon.”
“Max, I understand you’re upset. But right now, we need you to stay focused.”
Stay focused? When the love of his life is in potential danger? The weight of what that means presses down, threatening to crush him. “I need to see her,” he finally rasps out, voice breaking.
The plea hangs in the air, met by another long silence. Finally, the radio clicks on again, softer than ever. “Y/N would want you to finish. You know that. Win this for her.”
Tears blur Max’s vision, mixing with the sweat already pooling in his helmet, but he nods, a silent assent. The roaring engine now sounds distant, the glinting lights a backdrop to the storm that rages within him. Every second is an eternity, every turn a test of his resolve to keep racing. But Max drives on, pushing his limits for you.
Every fiber of his being silently screams your name, a prayer or a promise or both, Max doesn’t know. All he knows is that the faster he crosses the finish line, the sooner he can be with you.
For the world watching, the race continues, cars whizzing by. But for Max Verstappen, each lap, each second, is a race against his own heart, torn between duty and desperate love.
***
“Her pulse is erratic! Get the defibrillator ready!” A medic shouts as the emergency team frantically works around you, the ambulance parked haphazardly nearby.
Another voice, calmer but filled with urgency, counters, “Wait, give her a moment. She might come around.”
“Come on, Y/N,” A young medic mutters, pressing an oxygen mask to your face. “Don’t do this.”
The ambulance door opens again, the head medic speaking into a radio, “We need an airlift, now. The situation’s deteriorating rapidly.”
Another voice, muffled, replies, “The helicopter’s on its way! Clear the area.”
As the medics continue to administer aid, working desperately to stabilize you, the chief medic tries to maintain order, “Every second counts. This heat stroke is severe, coupled with dehydration ... it’s a nightmare scenario.”
“We should have had more cooling stations,” the younger medic mutters. “The humidity coupled with the heat ... it’s brutal tonight. And we’re not even the ones out there driving.”
The older medic takes a deep breath. “That is on the organizations. We can’t fix there mistakes but we can focus on what happening now and do everything we can to get her through this.”
The thrum of helicopter blades soon overwhelms the noise of the circuit, growing louder as it approaches. Soon, the bright light from its landing spotlight punctuates the night. “The helicopter’s here!” Someone shouts.
“Alright, team, on three,” the chief medic commands. They work in perfect sync, lifting you carefully but quickly, your body still unresponsive.
As they approach the helicopter, the pilot shouts over the roar, “We’ve got the best onboard. She’s in good hands.”
“She’s one of our best,” the younger medic shouts back. “She has to be okay.”
The chief medic, securing you inside, murmurs more to himself than anyone else, “Come on, Y/N. The race isn’t over. Keep fighting.”
***
“You expect me to smile and stand on that podium knowing she’s been airlifted to a hospital?” Max’s voice trembles with rage as he confronts the FIA officials blocking his way.
“Mr. Verstappen, there are rules, procedures,” an official replies stiffly.
“Rules? Y/N might be fighting for her life right now and you want to talk to me about rules?” Max’s hands clench and unclench as he physically holds himself back from throwing a punch.
Another official steps forward, trying to mediate, “Max, we understand your feelings but millions of viewers are watching. The podium is an essential part of the race.”
Max’s eyes flash with anger. “You think I care about a trophy when my girlfriend is in a hospital? Do you really think that piece of metal means anything to me right now?”
“We sympathize— ” the first official begins but is cut off by Max’s heated response.
“You sympathize? Do you even know what that word means?” He’s on the verge of breaking, voice barely above a whisper as he continues, “She is everything to me. Everything. And you want me to smile and wave for the cameras?”
The air grows thick with tension. The two drivers from McLaren waiting for their cue to go to the podium are silent, their eyes darting between Max and the officials.
A new voice interjects , “Let him go.”
It’s Lewis Hamilton, who despite DNFing early in the race, made his way across the paddock after seeing the distress on his rival’s face. “There are things more important than a ceremony.”
The officials exchange glances, clearly not expecting this intervention. But before they can reply, Max levels them with a final scathing look. “Fine me if you must! Penalize me! Suspend me for all I care! But I am going to her.”
And off he goes.
***
A nurse at the desk recognizes Max immediately when he runs into the hospital. “Mr. Verstappen,” she begins hesitantly, “Miss Y/L/N is in the ICU. Room 302.”
He doesn’t need any further prompting to sprint down the hall. Reaching the room, he stops dead in his tracks. You’re there, surrounded by machines that beep and whirr, tubes running to and from you, an oxygen mask on your face. The sight of you, once so full of life, now frail and vulnerable, breaks him.
His voice, when he finally managed to finds it, is a choked whisper, “Y/N ...”
Approaching the bedside, Max gently takes your hand, feeling its clamminess. “Hey, liefje ... it’s me,” he murmurs, pressing a tender kiss to your knuckles. His tears fall freely, wetting the back of your hand.
“Come on, love,” his voice cracks as he continues, “You’ve got to pull through this. For us.”
He brushes a strand of hair from your face, tracing the familiar curves and lines he’s come to adore. “Remember that time in Monaco? When we snuck out for that secret dinner that our trainers would have killed us for? We promised each other forever that night. You can’t leave me now. Not when we’ve got so many more memories left to make.”
The room’s silence is punctuated only by the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor in a cruel reminder of the fragility of the moment.
“I love you so much,” he murmurs. “Please ... please come back to me.”
Leaning in, he rests his forehead against yours, allowing the weight of his anguish, love, and hope to flow between the two of you in the sterile room.
***
Nothing has changed. The steady beep of the heart monitor still punctuates the silence of the hospital room. Max sits vigilantly at your bedside, his hand gently clasping yours.
It’s been three days since the crash and you still have not woken up. The doctors say your condition is stable but uncertain.
Max leans in close and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Morning, liefje. I’m still here. Not going anywhere.”
He brushes a strand of hair from your face, his touch impossibly gentle as if you might break. In the stark hospital lighting, the dark circles under his eyes are visible. Sleep hasn’t come easy to him, not with you lying here.
A soft knock at the door draws Max’s attention. Hugh pokes his head in hesitantly. “Hey, Max. Any change?”
Max shakes his head, swallowing hard. “Nothing yet. But she’s fighting. I know she is.”
Your race engineer steps further into the room, his expression solemn. “I should have seen the signs earlier. Pushed her to hydrate more. Slowed her pace.” His voice catches, “It was my job to look out for her.”
“This wasn’t your fault,” Max says firmly. “Y/N is stubborn. We both know that. She wanted to prove herself.” A ghost of a smile touches his lips. “It’s what makes her brilliant.”
Hugh pulls up a chair on the opposite side of the bed. For a moment, the two men sit in pensive silence. Then your race engineer speaks again, softer this time. “Has she ... has she responded at all? Squeezed your hand or anything?”
Max clenches his jaw and stares past Hugh at the blank wall. “No. Nothing yet. But I know she can hear me. I tell her about training, the team ... I update her on everything. She’ll want to jump right back in when she wakes up.”
Footsteps approach and a nurse enters, checking the equipment and your vitals. After making some notes on a chart, she offers an encouraging smile. “No change but she seems stable. Just keep talking to her. Familiar voices help.”
After she departs, Hugh leans forward, clasping your still hand. “Hear that, Y/N? You’ve got to wake up. The team needs you. Your fans are all rooting for you. And ...” His voice cracks. “I need my driver back.”
Max looks at him gratefully. “We all need her back.” Reaching out, he gives your race engineer’s shoulder a comforting squeeze.
Another knock sounds. This time, it’s Christian. His face is etched with guilt and worry. “Max. Any improvement today?”
Max’s expression hardens. He hasn’t forgotten Christian’s decision to withhold news of your crash. But his voice remains even as he responds to the team principal. “Nothing new.”
Christian pulls up a chair next to Hugh. He chooses his next words carefully. “Max, I need to apologize. I made the wrong call that night. You deserved to know immediately about Y/N. My priorities were skewed.” His voice shakes slightly. “Seeing her like this ... I would give anything to go back and change what I did.”
Max studies him for a long moment and some of the hardness leaves his eyes. “I appreciate that. But right now, the past doesn’t matter. All that matters is her getting better.”
Christian nods. Reaching out, he gently smoothes your hair. “You hear that, Y/N? We’re all here for you. Your whole team. Now you need to come back to us.”
A heavy silence settles on the room once more. The three of them remain clustered around the bed … keeping vigil … willing you to show any small sign of recovery.
After some time passes, the ringing of Hugh’s phone snaps the three men out of their thoughts. “Sorry to interrupt,” your press officer’s voice filters through the speaker, “but the team’s on the line. They want to send their well wishes to Y/N.”
Hugh glances at Max questioningly who nods, “Patch them through. Let the whole team remind her why she needs to wake up.”
A smile tugs at your race engineer’s lips. “You got it. Go ahead, team. She can hear you.”
A chorus of voices floods the room. Your mechanics, pit crew, strategists, PR team … everyone chimes in with encouraging messages.
“Come on, Y/N! We need our star girl back on the grid.”
“You can do this, kid. You’re the toughest one out there!”
“We all believe in you. Keep fighting!”
Max grips your hand tighter, emotions threatening to spill over. Even Christian and Hugh have sheens of tears in their eyes.
“Alright,” your race engineer says after the team signs off. “You heard them. Time to wake up.”
And that’s when Max feels it. A short, weak squeeze of his hand.
Then your eyelids begin to flutter.
“Y/N?” Max leaps to his feet, leaning over you anxiously. “Can you hear me?”
Slowly, painfully, your eyes open, taking in the scene around you. Confusion clouds your expression. “M-Max?” You rasp.
A brilliant smile breaks across Max’s face. Relief floods through him so powerful that his knees nearly buckle as he chokes out, “Yes, yes it’s me! You’re back, liefje. You’re really back.”
Hugh lets out a shaky laugh, scrubbing a hand across his face. “Welcome back, superstar.”
You try to speak again but Max hushes you gently. “Save your strength. We’ve got all the time in the world to talk.”
Christian grins, looking years younger. “Oh thank god. I need to tell the team. They’ll be thrilled. Welcome back, Y/N.” He hurries from the room, phone already in hand.
Your race engineer squeezes your shoulder. “Get some rest. We’ll all be here when you wake up.”
As he and the nurse move discreetly out of the room, you gaze up at Max. “You ... you stayed.”
Max lifts your hand to his lips, blinking back tears. “Of course I stayed. I’ll always stay by your side.”
He leans down, pressing his lips against your chapped ones. All the fear, the uncertainty, the heartache of the past few days melts away.
You’re back. You’re really back. And Max knows, without a shred of doubt, that your lives from this day on will be greater and more meaningful than all your wildest dreams.
***
In the following days, drivers from across the grid make the pilgrimage to your hospital room. They come bearing gifts — flowers, balloons, even a nearly life-size plush race car. But more importantly, they come bearing a message.
“That race should never have happened,” Lewis says solemnly, handing you a get-well card covered in signatures. “The heat was dangerous. We should have acted sooner.”
Esteban grips your hand tightly. “I’m sorry, Y/N. We should have spoken up about the conditions sooner. We all suffered but you suffered most.”
“Your crash woke us all up,” Lance adds. “No trophy is worth risking drivers’ safety even more than we already do each race.”
You’re moved by their solidarity but sigh knowingly. “The FIA would never have listened to just one driver saying something. But maybe they’ll listen to all of us.”
Max’s jaw clenches, residual anger simmering beneath the surface. “They have to listen. We won’t race in unsafe conditions again.”
The other drivers nod, They know the power that you all wield together and for the first time in a long time, you are going to use it.
In a show of outspoken unity, the GPDA drafts a strongly worded letter condemning the lack of caution around extreme heat and demanding tangible changes to make sure drivers aren’t put in avoidable jeopardy.
All twenty of you threaten to strike.
To your surprise, the FIA not only apologizes for the oversight but pledges to implement the requested changes immediately.
“Your crash was a wake-up call,” the FIA president says solemnly during a visit to your hospital room. “We should have protected you better. That will never happen again.”
When he departs, you let out a long breath, leaning back against the pillows. The anger and hurt from that night haven’t disappeared entirely but you feel a sense of hope, that some good has come from the experience.
Max clasps your hand between both of his. “What you went through is unacceptable but you used that to make the sport safer for every driver out there. I’m so proud of you.”
You give him a tired smile. “We did this together. All of us.”
He presses a kiss to your forehead. “Get some rest. When you’re better, we’ve got plenty more checkered flags to take. Side by side.”
The long road to full recovery still lies ahead. But with Max by your side, and all the drivers behind you, you know everything will be okay.
The race goes on but it will be a safer race thanks to you.
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mariahcarreyyy · 16 days
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max making u wear a pendant with his initials/driver's number engraved around ur neck coz he likes to watch it swing when u ride him
# 📝 send a prompt and a driver for me to write a short blurb or scenerio ! nsfw 18+ below beware⬇️⬇️
mariahcarreyyy's 2k celebration announcement post
"Where's the necklace?"
Max's words had made you halt. He placed a gentle hand on your collarbone, pushing you gently from where you were mouthing at his neck and stroking his thumb where the gold of his initials should be.
With furrowed brows, you craned your neck down to follow his disheartened glare. The absence of the cool chain around your neck didn't seem quite as important as the growing need for max, max, max.
"Dunno," you mumbled dismissively, rolling your hips from where you were straddling his legs on the bed. "Ah—bathroom, 'think, t-took it off to shower."
Your boyfriend hummed sweetly before lightly tapping the side of your thigh. "Get it."
Barely forcing down a whimper, you bit your lip, tugging on the hem of his baggy shorts. "Max, please, just—"
A taunting, raised brow was enough to have you huffing and hauling yourself off of his lap. The walk from the bathroom and back to Max's arms, barely ten steps, made your eyes glassy and the pleasure stirring in your stomach boil.
You made the mistake of catching your reflection in the mirror: flushed cheeks, hair sprawled in various directions, and an evident pout etched onto your face. The necklace was expensive; you'd known that, but had Max really needed to stop you mid-foreplay to run and get it?
Judging by his cocky smirk and the fact that he'd fumbled out of his clothes in the ten seconds you'd left, you guessed so. Your eyes drifted down his body, past the sweaty abs, and onto his hand, lazily stroking his hard cock. You wanted it inside you, in your mouth—fuck, he was making it really hard to stay annoyed.
"Happy?" you grumbled, your facade slipping when Max swiftly pulled you into his lap, shivering slightly as he nearly ripped the shirt off of your body, the cold air hitting your nipples and Max's wet tongue trailing kisses down your neck.
Moans slip past your lips, and you slide a hand down to the angry, red tip of Max's length. You grin wildly when he groans, the vibrations rippling against your skin and shooting straight down to your core. "More than." He cups the swell of your ass with his massive palms and lifts you up to hover over his dick. "C'mon, shatje, make y'self feel good on m'cock."
And who were you to deny Max that?
The stretch of his cock burned like it always has, spikes of pleasure overcoming the momentary pain. Max's desperate moans mixed with yours, echoing across the room. After a few seconds, Max's palm impatiently striked at your ass, making you jolt and bite your lip to avoid the embarrassing sound that would have left your lips. "M-Max, oh, fuck."
You lifted your hips, almost slipping Max's slick-covered dick out of your wet pussy before dropping back down. Max's eyes were half-lidded, a hazy grin plastered on his face; he watched the gold swing recklessly, worrying his bottom lip at the fast pace you'd set.
Max rolled his hips upward to meet your movements, and the loud yelp that left your lips made you flush. "Fuckk, s'good, baby—ah, all mine, yeah? All. Fucking. Mine."
Punctuating each word with a sharp thrust, Max almost came when your wet pussy clenched around him. "All yours, m'all yours, Max."
That was what the initials on your collarbones stood for, didn't they?
authors note. i havent written in so long pls forgive me everyone
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Mouse series plan of action
Alright, everyone. So I was considering putting an end to the series before the last fic. But you guys who like the series have been very vocal in the replies and I really appreciate that bc otherwise I would've said bye to mouse.
She's not going anyway though.
The problem is, I don't want to burn it out like I did with the Shy series for Lando.
The mouse series in't like a normal series, it's more like interconnected one shots. So I don't really want to write about them getting engaged or married or having a kid. I just want it to sort of remain as a series that kind of just captures moments of the couple. It's not like a series with a progressive plot that has an ending if that makes sense?
So the plan is to continue the series but I'm just going to update once every week or once every two weeks.
But I will say, all Mouse requests are welcome. So long as like I say it's kind of keeping in with the interconnected one shots plan.
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