The things we do for love
💌: toxic ex! max x reader. nosy fans and protective max. overprotective actually and a possessive freak, jealous! max w sprinkles of hot temperedness. suggestive content but not direct smut
💌: the chapter was done after you and your formula one boyfriend had finally broken up but what happens when he wants you back, more than ever and less than never
You and Max had been broken up for 2 years now. That felt like enough time passed for you to be able to come a grand prix without media or fan attention. You weren't an influencer or anything, but when you dated Max, it felt as though everyone knew your business. Papparazzis followed you, fans commented about you, and news kept buzzing.
'Max Verstappen's girlfriend seen walking the streets' / 'Max Verstappen's girlfriend seen on a cafe with a random man. A second fling?' headlines like this trended among fans in social media. At one point, it got annoying. An invasion of your privacy. Hanging out with your friends felt like a chore. You hated people being invested in your business.
However dating Max felt amazing, it was like you had found your dream man. A man who listened to you, made sure your opinions were heard, and cared for you. That's what it felt like. At least at first. You didn't know where it went wrong but gradually, the relationship felt like it was turning into something ugly. The perfect persona of being the perfect boyfriend was cracking slowly. Suddenly Max wasn't the nice sweetheart guy anymore. He turned overprotective and fierce. It wasn't as though being protective was a bad trait, obviously it was something you appreciated but he took it to a whole new level. He wouldn't let anyone come to you or let you go to anyone. He discreetly made sure you were isolated from people.
Fans that tried to approach you? Max hired bodyguards to make sure they couldn't approach you anywhere. Of course, without your knowledge telling you it was merely for your safety. A fan maybe pushing too hard for a picture or autograph, guess who got yanked to the side.
You tried to plan hangouts with your friends? Suddenly, a new event popped up inviting you and Max. And those were the ones you couldn't skip since it helped Redbull get investors because in everyone's eyes, you and Max were the star couple of Formula one.
One time you decided to stay at Max's penthouse on a rainy day. After dinner, you both started talking and suddenly none of you could keep your hands off of each other. His hands kept tracing your body, rough hands slipping under your shirt. You didn't hold back either.
One thing led to another and after a long while, you both were laying down with sheets and legs tangled. Somewhere during those quite moments, you told Max you were craving chocolate ice cream. Like a good boyfriend you thought he was, he wore his clothes, gave you a kiss and took his key cars to bring a tub of chocolate ice cream. While you waited, you decided to take a tour of his house. Wearing one of his old shirts, you walked around until you reached his office. He didn't work from home but he had it built when he attended video meetings from home. His office contained a mahgony desk in the center, with one large window overlooking the city and a sofa that laid out a crazy expensive bottle which might have been more expensive than your entire month's rent. Your eyes focused on something underneath the glass of whiskey. A pile of papers. It was nothing but something about it made you curious. You leaned in to see and your heart stopped beating.
Pictures of you. In every page.
Pictures when you were a teenager.
Pictures of your graduation, your first boyfriend and last boyfriend.
Pictures of your childhood home, dog and parents.
Your eyes scanned through the papers and they contained probably every information about you. The good, the bad, the ugly.
The awards you own at school.
Even the boy you lost your virginity to.
Recent pictures after you started dating Max were also there. A polaroid of you crossing the street last week with your guy friend, mind you he's gay, were also there. The next page contained that friend's information.
You put the papers down and like a sensible woman - you wore your clothes and left.
You didn't go back to your home, instead you went to a friend's home. At one point, you felt like he would have tracked you here. Because who the fuck does that? It made you sick. He knew every single thing about you, meaning those papers with extensive information would only be obtained thought the help of a professional personal investigator. The fact that he willingly paid money to get those information without informing you made you want to throw up. You couldn't believe you used to trust this man.
At first it started with a text message.
-'Schatje, where are you?'
-'Come on, stop hiding. I bought your ice cream.'
-'Stop playing. Where are you.'
Then he found the papers.
Then came the calls. Not one or two, but a total of 137 calls and 268 messages that night. You were glad you turned your phone off.
Later you got to know from your friends, that he attempted to contact everyone you knew in hopes to reach you. He even contacted your parents whom he never even met before. After a few days had passed, you sent the final message.
The breakup message and blocked his number.
You bought a new phone, a new number and just moved out of your apartment. You didn't bother going back to his house to retrieve your old items. Instead, you decided to move on. Sometimes it felt like even in your new life, someone was following you but I guess what's you got for being so paranoid. Apart from that, you didn't have an update on Max. You decided to notreport him to the police because you knew his lawyers were top notch so going to the court with proof won't do anything.
Now you were standing at the grandstands of the Monacco grand prix. The sun was beating down but not in a humid, scorching way but rather in a gentle way that was enough for you and others to not get heated up. Just because you and Max were over didn't mean that you couldn't watch formula one anymore. You did however watch Max win almost all grand prixs and go onto win two championships after you both had broken up.
Today, you decided to wear a short skirt that reached till your mid thighs pairing it with a fititng black laced tank top. You watched as the scoreboard revealed the same old results. Max won the Monacco Grand Prix with Charles Leclerc in P2 and Lando Norris in p3.
Between your conversation wiht your friend, you felt a tap on your shoulder. You turned around and saw a man standing whom you assumed to be part of Redbull because of his team t shirt. He looked young and constantly kept fidgeting with his hands as if he was afraid to even look at you directly in the eyes.
'Um, miss. I-i hope you dont mind but I was asked to take you to the Redbull garage.' He stammered.
You pleasant expression had turned into a frown and the little movement in your facial expressions made him flinch as if you being upset was the worst thing in the world.
'NO, I didn't mean for you to get upset please!' the man pleaded. You and your friend side eyed each other wondering what the hell was even happening.
'May I ask who is asking for me?' you asked him in a gentle tone. Your soft tone made him visibly relax once he came to the conclusion that you were actually not upset.
'I was told by Christian to ask you to come.'
That made you raise an eyebrow. The moment you were about to decline, the man understood and immediately starting stuttering, basically borderline panicking.
'I-i please. You don't understand. If if i dont take you back, then I will be fi-ired. Please ma'am.'
You didn't know who he was but it didn't feel like he was lying. He genuinely looked terrified to be honest. You finally nodded, and his shoulders immediately relaxed. You told your friend to wait and to look for you if you didn't come back by 15 minutes.
You followed the man down the grandstands to the Redbull hospitality. You hesitated to enter but saw Christian leaning against one of the trailers, his eyes lighted up the moment he saw you.
He asked and you replied, having a little talk while you tried to keep your replies short and precise. Suddenly, he lowered his voice.
'So um, how are you and Max now?' He asked as he cleared his voice, trying not to make the conversation awkward but you already knew what was going to happen.
'Why? Did he ask you to call me here?'
'What? No. He doesn't know you're here. If he knew, I wouldn't get to look at you even less, talk to you. Whatever, you know how Max is, he's protective and overbearing. But I have never seen him act like this with anyone else. Before you, he didn't even hug back his girlfriends after winning a race. But when it comes to you, he's the most serious man in the world. I don't know why you both broke up but if you think he has found someone new, you are completely wrong.'
You frowned. You thought Max had already moved on, the rumours on tabloid snf gossip pages. As if sensing your question, he started speaking again.
'What, thinking about gossip pages? They are bullshit. Max made us look for you at every grand prix. We have crew members from redbull with a picture of you standing at different positions in the grandstands hoping to find you. Even before and after the race. I know it sounds bad but he's desperate. He just- he just wants to talk to you. Maybe apologise. I don't know.
And now he's. He's - I don't know how to explain.
He's unstable without you. He has short fits of rage. He gets angry at every little mistake. Doesn't smile. Doesn't do PR. Doesn't attend any event. Nothing. If he has a bad race, no one even dares to look him right in the eye, heck neither do I.'
He paused before sighing.
'I am not asking you to give him a second chance. But just talk to him, sort it out-'
Just then, he paused. And looked down before walking away.
'Christian, what's wron-'
That's when you felt it. You don't know how to even explain it. It was a strange feeling. A pile of emotions pooling at your stomach. The hairs on your body standing up. Your spine immediately straightening up. You looked behind. You knew who it was without even looking at him. The only man who could get a reaction like this out of you.
He called out your name. Softly. Gently. In a low whisper as if he was in a dream and saying it too loud might wake him up.
He did not look the same as before. Sapphire eyes that used to hold the joy of life, being void of any sparkle. Bags under his eyes. Hair messy and wild with random blonde strands sticking out.
Just like that, his fingers slowly touched your hand as if making sure that you were there. He caressed it before gripping it to remind him that yes, after two full years and 36 days, you were actually in front of him in flesh. Safe and sound. No, it wasn't the picture of you that he used to carry in his wallet, but you in real and in front of him looking as beautiful and radiant as ever.
Without saying anything, he hugged you. Tight. And buried his head in your neck.
You looked around and saw the redbull staff. Engineers and strategists. They looked with wide eyes, amazed but immediately snapped their eyes back to their papers once they noticed you staring.
Because they knew that if something made you upset, it would make Max Verstappen upset too.
You softly patted his back. He was still in his redbull fireproof, hair sweaty most likely cooling off. He hid his face on the crook of your neck. His grip on your waist tightened and his fingers twitched to caress the bare skin of your waist.
You heard the words 'I miss you', low and quiet in a whisper that felt intimate. You gulped, a familiar feeling pooling in your stomach. You had seen him after 2 years and despite the eye bags, he was still handsome as fuck. You came to the conclusion that he hit the gym way too often. His muscles were bulging from the tight fireproof and his hands that griped your waist had somehow grown larger with visible veins appearing. You clenched your thighs.
Right then, you felt the harsh flash of a camera followed by a panicked 'shit!'. Before you could even react, Max's head snapped towards the direction. Behind the trailer, was a man of about 5'6, stout with a receding hairline. That's the most you could make out at that moment before Max's back blocked your vision as if he was protecting you out of instinct.
'Fucking hell' Max cursed in a low grumble. You felt the energy shift before the loud footsteps of Christian appeared.
'MAX, HEY MAN DONT LOSE YOUR TEMP-'
But it was already too late. One second, he was holding you and the next second, he stood beside that man. His camera snatched and under his foot, stepping on it and ultimately smashing it into pieces.
'Don't ever fucking take a picture of her. This is not a reminder, it's a threat. Try and your face is going to be next.'
Before you even realised what was happening, he took your hand and started walking inside before stopping at a isolated hallway.
'Max, you did not have to do that.' You admitted quietly.
A beat of silence passed. He didn't yet respond or even talk.
'Did you ever forgive me?'
He took a step forward and simultaneously you took a step back. Your back hit the wall.
'I'm sorry.' He said in a hoarse whisper, his voice heavy with guilt.
'What I did was wrong and I acknowledge that.
Take me back. Please. I will do anything.'
In simple words, he was desperate.
And for some twisted reason, you liked that.
A beat of silence passed.
'What if I ask you to leave Formula one?' You asked testing the waters, seeing what he replies.
Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed his hand twitched. An old habit of his. He didn't anticipate that.
'I would and I will. Only if you ask me to.' He said with a finality in his voice as if he was a hundred percent sure.
'Then get on your knees and apologise.'
A small smirk formed on your face and he didn't have to be told twice. You thought he wouldn't comply because generally from what you had seen, men in formula one had an awful lot of ego, too much for their own good but the moment you said it, in a blink of an eye, he knelt down with his face angled upwards, towards you.
His eyes snapped down and he apologised.
'I am sorry for what I did. It was an invasion of your privacy. I was a dick. Take me back. Please.'
That made you happy, happier you had been these 2 years. Something in the whole interaction between Max kneeling and begging you to take him back satisfied the twisted part of your heart.
'I'll see what I decide. Don't follow me. I am going now.'
He knew better than to interrupt and you left. This is what you deserved and that was what he deserved. He made a mistake, he needed to earn his apology through you and you werent an easy person to please.
It was another lonely night. Well there was another thing keeping you company. Your trusty pink vibrator. Moments like this made you miss Max. Not that you only missed him when you were horny. You missed him more than you'd like to admit. Exes to lover was a trope you didnt appreciate having a comeback in your life but the amount of time your thoughts were consumed by Max was concerning and pretty pathetic.
You lowered the vibrator, thinking about Max. Him getting possessive when he caught the paparazzi taking pictures, his muscles almost bulging from that fucking tight fireproof, the way he listened to every thing you said. You bet he'd let you have your way with him if you asked him to. Maybe he could just slide one of his veiny fingers down your-
You looked at the caller ID. Your friend. You tossed the pink vibrator and picked up the wall.
'Babe, what do you want? You know I was in the middle of something.'
She told you about the club in Monacco. That's right, you were staying at Monacco for a while. Honestly, you missed the posh place and decided to give it a chance. So what, you caught the love of your life being a full time stalker and then maybe tried to give yourself a pathetic orgasm after a 2 year breakup.
You know what. Fuck that. You were a hot, young and a beautiful girl. You jumped up and grabbed open your closet. That red dress that you never dared to wear? The one that was so short that a little bend might dangerously flash your laced panties, but that wasn't something that would bother you tonight. Your confidence sky rocketed and you swayed your hips to the beat of the music in the club. You had been dancing for what maybe 30 to 40 minutes straight before taking a break and sitting down on one of the empty barstools.
The moment you sat down, you felt a shiver down your spine. Was the air conditioning too cold? But then, you remembered this familiar feeling. Your spine straightened and you sat straight. And that's when you looked behind you, to find the only man who could get this reaction out of you only with their presence.
He sat on the second floor on one of the luxurious navy blue sofas. The second floor was only reserved for the elite meaning that you had to have a membership of this club and boy, you had to work your ass off to get a membership or simply be rich and famous. That's what Max was.
A piercing gaze was how you would describe Max looking at you at that moment. A drink in one hand and simply staring. He didn't even look away when you looked back at him. No expression, nothing. Just a blank face watching you with darkened eyes before his eyes glanced down and took a full scan of you. Your skimpy outfit, the laced gartier, the flash and peek of a little fabric of your lingerie. You looked like you walked straight out of someone's fantasy.
If you did look straight out of someone's fantasy, then why did no one approach you? Everyone seemed to avoid you like you had reincarnated the black plague. Normally guys would hit on you everywhere, workplace, cafes and what not. Hitting on you in the club was the most common and appropriate place. Sometimes your friends would have to pry admirers away but tonight, even the bartender wouldn't make eye contact with you. You frowned at that. Did you look too poor to be here? I mean, you weren't as wealthy as those partying here but you weren't dirt poor either.
Just as you were thinking about it, a man probably in his late 20's sat down beside you. The bartender stilled while pouring you a drink and you missed the way he nervously glanced to the second floor.
The unknown man started small conversation with you. Your name, what you did, what you liked and gave you sweet compliments. You learnt his name was John and so far he seemed graceful and polite. You leaned towards him and gave him small replies. Before long, he started making jokes and you laughed, your fingertips brushing against his arm. But the wholesome interaction was interrupted by a tall man, maybe 6 ft ish, wearing a black blazer suit, he marched right up and grabbed the John's arm, yanking it right up. A little more twist given the angle of view and you were guaranteed that he would have to stay a month in a hospital bed. You gasped, standing up and rushing over to John in an attempt to stop the man. However the guy in the black suit stopped you.
'Ma'am please don't interfere. He is to be escorted out of this club this instant.'
Your eyes widened and so did John's.
The man didn't offer you a reply and escorted John out. You tried to ask for help from the people around you but they pretended as if nothing had happened, only giving fake huhs and what. Even the bartender acted as if the scene of an innocent man being dragged out of the club so roughly was unreal and it made you feel like you either had way too many drinks or were currently experiencing a fever dream.
You looked up and saw him.
Peacefully sipping from his drink, from the same position without moving a single muscle. Instead of a blank expression, he sat with a small smirk. You clenched your jaw. You marched straight up the stairs, your fingers gripping your bag tight trying to control your rage. The tall men in black suits who you assumed to be bodyguards did not dare to stop you but rather cleared the way for you. The upper floor was completely empty. Poker tables, gambling rooms, strip poles with seats being empty. Not a single soul except the devil itself was sitting on the center.
'Stop this.' You demanded in a strict voice, laced with anger.
'You think you can just do this and think I won't know? Of course I know it's you. You are the reason no one is looking me in the eye. You are the reason why he was escorted out of this club.'
'You shouldn't have touched him.'
That made you angrier. Who was he to tell you what you should do or not.
'Oh fuck off. We aren't dating anymore. I do what I want. I touch who I want.'
His eyes darkened and his lips pursed in a thin line. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his hand twitch. Oh so he was getting angry too.
He stood up and walked to you. Not too fast, not too slow. You couldn't predict what he was about to do and you never did. He walked like a predator circling his prey knowing there was no way out. You didn't take a step back, no you refused to be the prey. Rather you made direct eye contact with him to let him know you werent backing down.
He stopped right in front of you. Him being 6'1 gave him an advantage of hovering over you but you weren't intimated. (maybe a little bit but you tried not to show it)
His hand slowly lifted up and brushed your cheek with his knuckles. His knuckles felt rough and bruised up. He watched as your pretty face turned into a slight frown. God, he wanted to kiss you right then and there. How could someone be so beautiful. If you kicked him in the balls right now, he would thank you. Max was so down bad for you that he was ready to kiss the ground you walked on in front of the whole world.
'You fought with someone?' You asked softly feeling his bruised knuckles, forgetting about your fury.
He smiled. 'Everyone gets on my nerves nowadays.'
You sighed. Your hand grabbing his ones and putting them away. Instead, he just slid them down your waist, pulling you closer.
'Max.' You said with a hint of warning.
'Come back please.' He pleaded, his voice heavy and his eyes now held a shade of melancholy. Hot breath fanned your neck as his grip got tighter. 'I will never stop wanting you. I cannot bear to see you laugh with another man.'
'You need to change Max. What happened before cannot happen again.'
'No it won't. I won't keep things from you I promise.'
You sighed. Who were you kidding, Max was the love of your life. Dating other guys never made you forget him and probably never will. That was something you didn't want to admit, trying to make youself believe that there were other options but it never felt real.
The way your heart raced when you were near him, your eyes lightened up, your body leaned to him involuntarily - was something only he could bring.
'Okay. One chance. Just.. we don't date now. Let's just be as friends.'
Max nodded. God he was happy. He didn't care if he was as a friend to you right now. Just the sight of you made him relax. His eyes scanned your face before dropping to your lips.
Was it a good time to say how fucking ravishing he looked? You clecnced your thighs, you just wished his hands would travel down to your panties to see just how soaked you were. Not a good time to meet your hot formula one ex when you were peak ovaluating. He saw how your eyes darkened and how your hands crept up to his fitting t shirt to grab his biceps as an attempt to stabilise yourself. In response, his grip tightened and you felt him. God, he was hard. Hard was an understatement. It felt like it would literally bulge out. You imagined how it would look like, when he'd just fuck you mercilessly and decorate your delicate body with hickies. Was he thinking the same?
This is your ex. The same guy you broke up with after he stalked you, invaded yoru privacy and acted like a possessive beast.
Get your mind together and stop making him think that giving you a good fuck would fix everything.
You tapped on his arm three times and that's all it took. He let go of your waist and straightened. Tapping was a method you both used during sex. Specially during rough sex after Max had a bad race weekend. One tap was a way of saying to go faster. Two taps would be to slow down and three taps meant stop. Usually you used two taps and the rest were very rarely ever used. Guess you both remembered it after all.
'Um, I will go home now. It's uh getting late.'
He nodded. 'Right. I can drop you-'
'NO, I mean no. Its fine.'
If this is how you acted when you guys got a little privacy then imagine what would happen if you both were left alone in a car.
You didn't wait for him to say anything before you walked away. You got into a taxi and it drove you back to your hotel.
What you didn't know was that Max drove his Porsche right behind the taxi, following it till he was sure you reached back to your hotel safe and sound.
Few days passed and guess what awaited outside your hotel door every day. Gifts. Constant gifts for 2 weeks straight. And you don't mean bouquets of flowers and chocolates. They were a staple but you received tons of jewellery, custom made to your likings. Cartier bracelets, Louis vuitton shoes, Hermes bags and what not. He even paid the hotel bills under your name which might have been too much.
What surprised you was the letter that arrived everyday. Tucked in the side of the bouquets. A little letter he wrote.
I know it looks like I am doing too much but I am not. I am not doing this so you have to reciprocate my feelings. I am doing this to because you are the most important thing to me in the world. I know you think that the first time we met was in the restaurant in Montreal but it was not. The day I first saw you, I had one of the worst bad race days, p11 with an engine failure and furiously, I left everything and just walked out. It was raining heavily l remember and out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone dancing in the rain. Blissfully unaware, twirling their dress and dancing around in the rain. It was you. You had the brightest smile I had ever seen and eyes that glowed so preciously even im the dark. That made my heart race and I fell in love. I fell in love hard. You didn't know I was watching you and you didn't think anyone would but I did. That made me smile that day. I was so intrigued about you, I wanted to approach you but your friend took you away. But I heard your name when she called you. That's why those files were there. I couldn't stop thinking about you. That's how we unofficially met 2 years ago. During those 2 years, I didnt know how to contact you or how to meet you without making it looking obvious or making you think I am a creepy stalker. Then that day in Montreal, in that little restaurant, I saw you. It was like the universe had set us up and I have loved you ever since. I wanted to tell you but I was afraid that you'd think I am some creep and when you found out, it was one of my biggest secrets and my biggest fear had come true - you were convinced I was a creep. I have been a flawed person in the past, what I did was not okay and you were correct to leave me but please, I have reflected and changed. I will do whatever you ask me to. Give me a second chance.
I love you and I will continue to love you even if you say no. Accept these gifts please.
You and Max got closer after that. You lived with your friend in Monacco until you guys figured what to do. In your free time, you both went on dates in little cafes or maybe a picnic day in the parks. You both didn't kiss or lust after one another like before but rather talked. He would stare at you when you would animatedly with a soft smile on his face. About what you liked and dislikes now, how you found cats adorable but hated it when didn't arrive you after saying pspsps. He took his time and reflected on his flaws. And you listened to him. You both would laugh at everything you found silly and when the sun would start to set, you'd stare at each other before saying goodbyes.
Today was different. Today it felt a little heavy like there was something you had to desperately get out.
You looked around, Max sat wearing a navy blue polo t shirt and you wore a long sundress. He rearranged the items you had brought, packing the things up in the little picnic basket and putting your sunscreen and lip gloss in a different bag.
You smiled. This is what you missed. Not the materialistic, flashy love but the quiet admiration shared between each other.
Max was now gentle with you. He didn't rush, didn't act like a possessive fool but rather let you take your time. He waited patiently and tried to express his own feelings, not all the way up there but he was slowly getting there.
You both watched as the sun set and your hand crept to his.
Your hands slowly wrapped around his neck and you pressed your lips against his. He was shocked for a moment before he wrapped an arm on your waist and kissed you back. You craned your head for better access and kissed him hard until you both gasped for air.
'I love you' you whispered those three words, and he pressed his forehead against yours repeating those words again.
Relationship are never perfect. They are meant to be messy because we both reveal our flaws and insecurities to each other, but what's meant for you will come back to you and your heart finally was at peace knowing that this was right for you.
💌: DOESNT APPLY TO YOU OKAY. GIRLIES DONT GO BACK TO YOUR EX. THAT CHAPTER IS DONE. MAY MY FIC NEVER EVER INSPIRE YOU TO GO BACK. OUT OF A 100 PEOPLE, ONLY 3 HAVE ALREADY DATED THEIR SOULMATES AND YOU ARE NOT ONE OF THEM. MOVE ON AND DONT LOOK BACK OKAY.
