MIDNIGHTMAX
MASTERLIST
FORMULA 1
Max Verstappen
Lando Norris
Charles Leclerc
Carlos Sainz
OFF CAMPUS: series
Dean Di Laurentis

JVL
we're not kids anymore.
todays bird
Three Goblin Art

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oozey mess
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PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

#extradirty
i don't do bad sauce passes

shark vs the universe
$LAYYYTER
trying on a metaphor

Love Begins
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almost home
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taylor price
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@midnightmax
MIDNIGHTMAX
MASTERLIST
FORMULA 1
Max Verstappen
Lando Norris
Charles Leclerc
Carlos Sainz
OFF CAMPUS: series
Dean Di Laurentis
Begging on your knees
Pairing: Dean Di Laurentis x Fem!reader
Summary: Dean realizes he’s fallen in love with his best friend. The problem is that he figures it out just as the guy from her music class asks her to be his partner for the festival performance. She has a small crush on him, and what starts as innocent excitement soon becomes something more complicated. But when an unexpected discovery comes to light, buried feelings begin to surface, forcing both of them to face emotions that may have been there all along.
Part 1
The next two weeks were torture.
At least for Dean.
Every time he saw Y/N walking across campus with Ethan—the guy from her music class—it felt like someone was twisting a knife deeper into his chest.
He hated it.
Hated how jealous he felt.
Hated how much he cared.
Most of all, he hated that he couldn’t stop hoping she would change her mind.
That somehow she’d realize he was right there.
Always had been.
Always would be.
But every time she talked about Ethan, her eyes lit up.
And Dean forced himself to smile.
Because if she was happy…
That was supposed to be enough.
⸻
Until one Thursday afternoon.
Dean was lying on his bed when his phone rang.
Y/N.
Immediately, he answered.
“Hey.”
Silence.
His stomach dropped.
“Y/N?”
A shaky breath.
Then—
“Can you come get me?”
Dean was already standing.
“Where are you?” He heard her sniffing. “Babe, where are you?”
“I’ll send you my location.”
⸻
Ten minutes later, he found her sitting alone behind the music building.
Crying. Trembling and with not enough clothes since it was freezing.
The second he saw her tears, something inside him snapped.
Dean crossed the distance immediately.
“What happened?” He took off his coat and put around her. “Babe…”
She wiped her eyes.
Failed.
More tears fell.
And Dean’s chest physically hurt.
Because he hated seeing her like this.
She laughed bitterly.
“You know what’s funny?”
“What?”
“I should’ve listened to everyone.” Dean sat beside her.
“What are you talking about?” She looked away.
“Ethan.”
Immediately.
Dean’s jaw clenched.
“What did he do?”
For several seconds she couldn’t answer.
Then—
“I found out he never actually liked me.”
Dean froze.
“What?”
She laughed again. But this time it sounded broken.
“He was using me.” His entire body went still.
Y/N looked down at her hands.
“I overheard him talking to his friend.” She said trying to stop crying. “He said partnering with me guaranteed him a good grade because I’m a good singer.”
Dean’s hands curled into fists.
Dangerously tight.
“He said the palm was easier than he thought because I’m easy.” Silence. “And then he laughed about it.”
Dean stood so fast the bench nearly tipped over.
“Where is he?” Y/N blinked.
“What?”
“Where.Is.He?”
“Dean—”
“Where is he?”
His voice had gone cold.
Terrifyingly cold.
The kind that usually appeared right before a hockey fight.
“I swear to God—”
“Dean.”
“I’m serious.”
“Dean.”
“If I see him—”
She stood and grabbed his arm.
Immediately.
Stopping him.
His eyes found hers.
Still red.
Still hurt.
Still heartbroken.
And suddenly all of his anger disappeared.
Because she mattered more.
Always.
She squeezed his hand.
“Don’t.”
“He made you cry.”
“I know.”
“He used you.”
“I know.”
Dean shook his head.
“He deserves—”
“No.”
Her voice softened.
“He’s not worth it.”
Dean looked away.
Trying to calm down.
Trying not to imagine Ethan’s face.
Trying not to imagine punching it.
“Please just stay with me”
“Always.”
Then Dean looked at her.
Really looked at her.
And suddenly an idea appeared.
A dangerous one.
A brilliant one.
A very Y/N one.
His lips slowly curved.
“Oh.” She frowned.
“What?” Dean grinned.
“Oh, we’re getting revenge.” Her eyes widened.
“Dean.”
“No violence.”
“Good.”
“No crimes.”
“Better.” Dean pointed at her.
“You write a song.” She blinked.
“What?”
“A song.”
“Dean—”
“No.”
He stood.
Already excited.
“You are talented.”
“Dean.”
“You can destroy the motherfucker just by singing.” She laughed for the first time all day. “There’s my girl.”
And Dean felt like he’d won just by making her smile.
“Can we go home?” She asked.
“Yes we can.” He hugged her shoulders and took her to the car.
⸻
Three days later.
The Fall Music Festival had arrived.
The auditorium was packed.
Students filled every seat.
The stage lights glowed.
Backstage, Y/N paced nervously.
Because tonight was supposed to have been her duet with Ethan.
Instead…
She was performing alone.
With a completely different song.
One inspired by everything he’d done.
Every lie.
Every manipulation.
Every fake smile.
Every fake compliment.
And somehow…
Standing beside her was Hannah that was also in her music class.
“You ready?” She swallowed.
“No.”
“Perfect.” She laughed. “What about Dean?”
“What about him?”
“He’s been talking about your show and threatened the guys if they didn’t show up to see you sing.”
“He did that?”
“Yes. We all know he’s in love with you.”
“What?” I looked a little shocked.
“What?” Se repeated what I said.
“You said he’s in love with me.”
“I was just kidding.”
“I weren’t.”
“Look, we know you and Dean have known each other forever and we all can see how he looks at you.” She says. “And we also know how you look at him.”
“What do you mean?”
“It means you guys love each other and just didn’t had the courage to tell each other.” I just looked at her. “And he’s looking at you right right now.”
I looked at where our friends were and they were all talking to each other, except that he is looking at you.
Dean smiled.
And god. That smile.
And suddenly she remembered every late-night conversation.
Every movie night.
Every dance.
Every hug.
Every moment they’re had with each other.
Every single momento of her life, big or small, important or not. He was there.
Not Ethan.
Dean.
It always has been Dean.
Before she could think about it further, her name was announced.
The audience erupted into applause.
“You’ve got this.” I said to myself.
And for a second the world disappeared. He summed her forehead and let go of her.
⸻
The music started.
The spotlight found her.
The crowd went silent.
And she began to sing.
Every lyric felt stronger than the last.
Every note carried weeks of frustration.
The audience loved it.
People cheered.
Clapped.
But halfway through the performance…
Y/N’s attention drifted.
Toward the front row.
Toward Dean.
And suddenly everything else faded.
Because while everyone else was watching the performance…
Dean was watching her. Only her.
The biggest smile she’d ever seen on his face.
Like she was the most incredible thing he’d ever seen.
And that’s when it hit her.
Not slowly.
Not gently.
Like a lightning strike.
A realization.
A truth she’d somehow missed for years.
The butterflies.
The happiness.
The feeling of home.
It had never been Ethan or any other guy.
It was Dean. It had always been Dean.
And probably, I’ll always be him.
⸻
The song ended.
The crowd exploded.
Standing ovation.
Cheers.
Whistles.
Applause.
Y/N barely heard any of it.
Because she was looking for one person.
Dean.
Then—
A familiar voice cut through the noise.
“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!”
The audience laughed immediately.
Dean stood up in the front row.
Hands around his mouth.
“I’M VERY PROUD OF HER!”
The crowd laughed louder.
Y/N felt tears threatening to form.
Dean grinned.
“AND SHE LOOKS REALLY HOT TONIGHT!”
The auditorium erupted.
Y/N started laughing.
Actually laughing.
Then she made a decision.
A very reckless decision.
She umped off the stage.
And ran. Straight toward him.
The audience screamed.
Dean’s eyes widened.
“Wait—”
Too late.
Y/N reached him.
Grabbed his face.
And kissed him.
The crowd absolutely lost their minds.
Dean froze for approximately half a second.
Before kissing her back.
One hand immediately wrapping around her waist.
Pulling her closer.
Like he’d been wanting to do that for years.
Which, honestly…
He had.
When they finally pulled apart, both were breathless.
Smiling.
Completely incapable of hiding how happy they were.
Dean pressed his forehead against hers.
“ABOUT TIME.” Beau yelled and The other screamed.
“Shut up Beau.” Dean said.
“I’ve been waiting forever.”
“We’ve all been.” Logan said.
“THE SLOWEST BURN IN HUMAN HISTORY IS FINALLY OVER!” Allie screamed. “I’m so happy for you guys!”
Beau crossed his arms.
“Took them long enough.”
Dean groaned.
“Can you all leave?”
“No.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Never.”
Y/N laughed so hard her stomach hurt.
And as Dean wrapped an arm around her shoulders, she realized something.
The best love story of her life hadn’t started that night.
It hadn’t started with a kiss.
Or a confession.
Or a song.
It had started years ago.
With a boy who became her best friend.
And somehow…
Her forever, too.
Tag list: @glittergirly78 @alwaysclassyeagle @yagurlannastasia @xxangelaaaaa
Dean Di Laurentis
Multi part-stories
Maybe they’re right | Begging on your knees
Blurbs
Maybe they’re right
Pairing: Dean Di Laurentis x Fem!reader
Summary: Dean realizes he’s fallen in love with his best friend. The problem is that he figures it out just as the guy from her music class asks her to be his partner for the festival performance. She has a small crush on him, and what starts as innocent excitement soon becomes something more complicated. But when an unexpected discovery comes to light, buried feelings begin to surface, forcing both of them to face emotions that may have been there all along.
OFF CAMPUS
Ps: it’s my first Dean story so be gentle with me pleaseee. And this has a part 2
Part 2
The hockey house was loud as usual.
Music blasted from the speakers in the living room while the party was wild around us
Dean was sat sprawled across the couch with a beer in his hand, pretending to listen to whatever Garrett was talking about.
Pretending is the key word.
Because his attention was currently somewhere else.
More specifically…
On Y/N.
She was standing in the kitchen with Allie, laughing so hard she nearly spilled her drink.
Dean smiled without realizing it.
Again.
Garrett caught it immediately.
“Jesus Christ man.” Dean frowned.
“What?” Garrett pointed across the room.
“That.”
Dean followed his finger.
“What about it?”
“The fact that you’ve been staring at her with heat eyes for five straight minutes.”
“I have not.”
“You absolutely have.” Logan nearly choked on his drink.
“Oh my God. He has.”
Tucker looked up from his phone.
“Dean, buddy…”
“No.”
“You didn’t even let me finish.”
“Because I know where this is going.”
Beau grinned.
“Straight to denial.” Dean rolled his eyes.
“You guys are insane.”
The boys exchanged looks.
The kind of looks that immediately made him nervous.
Garrett leaned forward.
“Can I ask a question?”
“No.”
“I’m going to anyway.”
Dean groaned.
Garrett pointed between him and Y/N.
“When was the last time you two acted like normal friends?”
Silence.
Dean blinked.
“What does that even mean?”
“It means,” Logan said, “normal friends don’t spend every evening together.”
“They don’t fall asleep watching movies in the same bed.”
“They don’t dance together at every party.”
“They don’t have breakfast together.”
“They don’t know each other’s Starbucks order.”
Dean opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Opened it again.
“Okay, that’s not—”
“Dean.”
“WHAT?”
Garrett smirked.
“You guys are basically dating.”
“We are not.”
“Then explain why every single person on campus thinks you’re together.”
Dean froze.
Every single person?
“…People think we’re together?”
The entire couch burst out laughing.
“Oh, sweet, sweet Dean.” Logan said.
“Everybody thinks you’re together.”
Dean stared across the room.
Y/N was still laughing with Allie.
Still beautiful.
Still completely unaware she had somehow become the center of his entire life.
His chest suddenly felt tight.
Because now that they had said it…
He couldn’t stop noticing.
The movie nights.
The way she stole his hoodies.
The way she immediately looked for him whenever she entered a room.
The way dancing with her felt natural.
The way she fit perfectly under his arm.
The way nobody had ever felt like home before.
Oh.
Oh no.
The realization hit him like a truck.
Garrett immediately noticed.
His eyes widened.
“No way. Did you just realized! In front of us.” Dean buried his face in his hands.
“Shut up.”
Garrett stood up.
“Okay that’s big.”
The entire room exploded.
“Oh my God.”
“HE’S IN LOVE.”
“Can you say louder? I think the other side of the campus didn’t heard you.”
⸻
Three days later, Dean still couldn’t stop thinking about it.
Or her.
Which was a problem.
A massive problem.
Because now every little thing made his heart race.
Like right now.
Y/N was sitting on his bed.
Wearing one of his hoodies. Again.
She was reading her book and doing absolutely nothing special and even then, she was beautiful.
“You’re starting at me for like, five minutes straight.”
Dean nearly jumped.
“What?”
She laughed.
“Exactly.”
God.
That laugh.
He was doomed.
Completely doomed.
She nudged his shoulder.
“What’s wrong with you lately?”
You.
The answer was you.
Dean swallowed.
Maybe he should tell her.
Maybe he should finally—
“Oh!”
She suddenly sat up.
Dean blinked.
“What?”
A huge smile appeared on her face.
And for some reason his stomach dropped.
“I forgot to tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
Her smile somehow grew wider.
“There is this guy.”
Dean’s heart stopped.
A guy.
Of course.
There was always a guy.
He forced a smile.
“Oh.”
“He’s in my music class.”
Every word felt like a punch.
“Cool.”
“And we’re doing a duet together for the Fall Music Festival.”
Dean felt physically ill.
She looked absolutely giddy.
Like she couldn’t stop thinking about this guy.
The exact same way Dean couldn’t stop thinking about her.
Only she wasn’t thinking about Dean.
“He asked me to practice with him tomorrow.”
Dean stared at the floor.
Trying not to let it show.
Trying not to completely fall apart.
“That’s great.”
She grinned.
“I know.”
A pause.
Then—
“I kinda have a crush on him.”
And that was it. She just ripped his heart out.
Because he’d spent days building up the courage to tell her.
Days imagining what would happen.
Days hoping.
And somehow he was already too late.
Y/N smiled softly.
“I think he likes me too.”
Dean forced himself to smile.
Even though it hurt.
“Yeah.” He looked away. “Maybe he does.”
Hey! I loved reading "She Doesn't Like Me" with Carlos Sainz! It was super good! When will part 3 come out?
Heyyy!!! Thank you so much, makes me very happy to know that you guys are liking it.
Here’s the link to the third and last part.
She doesn’t like me (final part)
Pairing: Carlos Sainz x Fiancé reader
Summary: Carlos and Y/n’s relationship is tested by the limit. Forcing them to confront love, boundaries, and what they’re truly willing to fight for.
The house in Madrid had never felt so suffocating.
I didn’t bother knocking.
I opened the door and the familiar scent of polished wood and expensive perfume hit me immediately. The smell that used to feel like home to me, but now it was just a reminder of the life I’m running away from.
“Mamá!” My voice echoed through the hallway.
A few seconds later, she appeared, composed as always, as if nothing in the world could shake her.
“Carlos,” she said, her tone calm. “To what do I owe the visit?”
I let out a dry laugh.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Act like you don’t know exactly why I’m here.”
Her expression tightened slightly, but she didn’t lose her posture.
“If this is about that girl—”
“It is about my fiancée,” I cut in sharply. “She’s not just some girl.”
She sighed, already irritated.
“So you came here to argue again?”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “I came here to make something very clear.”
For the first time, she seemed to pay full attention.
“I’m not asking for your approval. Not anymore.” I continued, my voice steady despite the storm inside me. “I’m telling you how things are going to be.”
She crossed her arms.
“That sounds like a threat.”
“It’s not a threat,” I replied. “It’s a boundary.”
That word lingered in the air.
“If you can’t respect Y/n, then you don’t get to be part of my life anymore.”
Silence.
Heavy.
Her eyes narrowed.
“You would distance yourself from your own family over a girl?”
“Yes, because again she’s not just some girl. She’s the woman I love.”
The answer came without hesitation.
Her lips pressed into a thin line.
“This is ridiculous, Carlos. You’re letting emotions cloud your judgment. These things—marriage, family—they require logic.”
“And where is the logic in hurting someone I love?” I shot back. “Where is the logic in pushing away your own son because you refuse to accept his choices?”
“I am protecting you.”
“No,” I said firmly. “You’re trying control me.”
That hit.
I saw it in the way her posture stiffened.
“I have done everything for you,” she snapped. “Everything! And this is how you repay me? By choosing someone who—”
“Who what?” I challenged. “Who doesn’t fit into your perfect image? Who doesn’t play your games?”
“She doesn’t belong in this family.”
The words landed like a slap.
And something in me just… settled.
Cold. Decisive.
“Then maybe I don’t belong in it either.”
That made her falter.
Just for a second.
But it was enough.
“Carlos…”
“I mean it,” I said, my voice lower now, but stronger. “If you can’t treat her with respect, then I will walk away. From this house. From these dinners. From all of it.”
“You’re overreacting.”
“No. I’m finally reacting the way I should have from the start.”
The tension in the room was unbearable.
And then—
“Enough.”
My father’s voice cut through everything.
We both turned.
He stood there, watching us with an expression I couldn’t quite read. Calm… but firm.
“This has gone too far.” he continued, stepping closer. “No one’s distancing themselves.”
My mother let out an exasperated sigh.
“Please don’t start—”
“No,” he interrupted, more sharply this time. “You need to hear this.”
She froze.
That alone was unusual.
He rarely raised his voice.
“Do you remember,” he began slowly, his eyes fixed on her, “how my parents treated you?”
The air shifted instantly.
Her expression changed — not defensiveness this time, but something else.
Something… guarded.
“That’s different,” she said quickly.
“Is it?” he asked.
She looked away.
“They thought you weren’t good enough for me,” he continued. “They made comments. They excluded you. They judged you at every opportunity.”
Her silence said everything.
“I stood by you,” he said. “I chose you. And I watched how much that hurt you.”
My chest tightened.
Because I had never heard him say it like that before.
“You cried,” he went on, softer now. “You questioned whether you belonged. Whether you were enough.”
My mother’s eyes flickered.
“Don’t,” she murmured.
“But now,” he said, not stopping, “you’re doing the exact same thing with Y/n.”
That landed.
Hard.
She shook her head slightly, almost like she was trying to reject the thought.
“No… it’s not the same.”
“It is,” he said firmly. “And deep down, you know it.”
Silence filled the room again.
But this time, it was different.
Not tense.
Not explosive.
Heavy.
Real.
I watched as something shifted in her expression — the certainty she had been holding onto starting to crack.
“I just…” she started, her voice quieter now. “I just want what’s best for him.”
“And hurting the woman he loves is ‘what’s best’?” my father asked gently.
She didn’t answer.
Because she couldn’t.
“Do you realize the beautiful life we created together after I distance myself from my parentes so I could be with the woman I love?” He says to her. “That’s exactly what’s going to happen with Carlos and Y/n if you keep doing this. They’re going to have their own family without us and they’re not gonna miss us because of how things are going.”
“Papa…” he just looked at me.
“Go after her.”
——
The apartment felt unfamiliar.
Not because it had changed — but because she had.
Y/n stood by the window, arms wrapped around herself, staring out at the city like she was trying to find something in the distance.
A knock echoed through the space.
She frowned slightly, not expecting anyone.
For a moment, she hesitated.
Then she walked to the door and opened it.
And froze.
“Mrs…?” she started, caught off guard.
His mother stood there.
Not composed.
Not untouchable.
Just… human.
“May I come in?” she asked, her voice quieter than Y/n had ever heard it.
There was a pause.
A long one.
But eventually, Y/n stepped aside.
She walked in slowly, looking around the apartment — simple, personal, nothing like the house she was used to.
“It’s… nice,” she said.
Y/n didn’t respond.
She just waited.
Because she knew this wasn’t a social visit.
His mother took a breath.
Then another.
Like she was preparing for something difficult.
“I owe you an apology,” she said finally.
Y/n’s eyes flickered with surprise.
“I was… cruel,” she continued. “Unfair. And completely out of line.”
The words didn’t come easily.
You could hear that.
“I judged you without trying to know you. I made you feel unwelcome… when you did nothing to deserve it.”
Silence.
Y/n stayed still, processing every word.
“I thought I was protecting my son,” she admitted. “But I was only hurting both of you.”
Her voice faltered slightly.
“And I’m sorry.”
That… that was real.
No pride.
No manipulation.
Just honesty.
Y/n swallowed.
“I don’t expect you to forgive me right away,” she added. “Or at all. But I needed to say it.”
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then Y/n finally spoke.
“You hurt me,” she said softly.
“I know.”
“And it wasn’t just one time.”
“I know.”
A breath.
Shaky.
“I love your son,” Y/n continued. “But I won’t fight to be accepted anymore.”
My mother nodded slowly.
“You shouldn’t have to.”
Another silence.
But this one… lighter.
Not resolved.
But… softer.
“I would like to try again,” my mother said. “If you’re willing.”
Y/n studied her for a long moment.
Then, quietly—
“One step at a time.”
It wasn’t forgiveness.
But it was a beginning.
⸻
I was sitting on the edge of the bed when the door opened.
I didn’t look up immediately.
I wasn’t sure I was ready for disappointment again.
“Carlos…”
My head snapped up.
Y/n stood there.
And for the first time in days—
She looked at me.
Really looked.
“Hi,” she said softly.
I stood up instantly, closing the distance between us before I could even think.
“Are you okay?” I asked, my voice lower than usual.
She nodded slightly.
“I am now.”
That made my chest tighten.
“What happened?” I asked.
A small smile touched her lips.
“Your mother came to see me.”
I blinked.
“She… what?”
“She apologized.”
That… was not what I expected.
“At my apartment,” she added. “She actually apologized. And she didn’t looked at me like I was a dirty dog stepping in her million dollar carpet.”
I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.
“And?” I asked carefully.
“And I told her the truth,” Y/n said. “About how I feel. About what I need.”
I nodded, listening.
“And she listened.”
That alone felt unreal.
Silence settled between us.
But this time, it wasn’t heavy.
It was… fragile.
Hopeful.
“I meant what I said,” she continued. “About needing things to change.”
“They will,” I said immediately. “They already are.”
She searched my face.
Like she needed to be sure.
And this time—
I didn’t look away.
“I’m still scared,” she admitted.
“I know baby.”
“But I don’t want to walk away. I don’t want to live a life without you.”
My heart stuttered.
“Then don’t.” I said softly.
She stepped closer.
And this time—
She didn’t pull away.
I wrapped my arms around her, holding her like I hadn’t been able to for days.
Like I wasn’t going to let go.
And for the first time since that night—
It felt like we might actually be okay.
⸻
The ceremony was simple.
Not because it had to be.
But because that’s how we wanted it.
The garden looked different now.
The same place where everything had almost fallen apart… now held something entirely new.
Y/n stood at the end of the aisle, and for a second, everything else disappeared.
It was just her.
Just us.
And when I reached her—
I knew.
Every fight.
Every doubt.
Every moment that almost broke us—
It had all led here.
I took her hands in mine.
And this time—
There was no hesitation.
Only certainty.
“I choose you,” I whispered.
She smiled, eyes shining.
“Always.”
And this time—
There was nothing standing in our way.
She doesn’t like me (part. 2)
Pairing: Carlos Sainz x Fiancée!reader
Summary: Carlos and Y/n’s relationship is tested by the limit. Forcing them to confront love, boundaries, and what they’re truly willing to fight for.
The apartment felt too quiet.
That was the first thing I noticed when I walked in.
Not empty — quiet.
The kind of silence that feel like the house is haunted.
“Y/n?” I called out, closing the door behind me.
No answer.
My chest tightened as I walked inside, my eyes scanning everything like something would be obviously wrong. But nothing was out of place. The cushions were still neatly arranged, her books stacked the way she liked them, her perfume faintly lingering in the air.
It looked like she had just stepped out.
But she hadn’t.
I knew she hadn’t.
I walked to the bedroom, pushing the door open slowly.
That’s when I saw it.
The closet.
Half empty.
My stomach dropped.
“No… no, no, no…”
I moved closer, pulling the door open wider like maybe I was seeing it wrong. But I wasn’t. Her dresses — the ones she wore the most — gone. The shoes she loved — gone. The small suitcase she always used for short trips — gone.
She didn’t just leave.
She planned it.
I ran a hand through my hair, pacing the room, trying to breathe through the panic rising in my chest.
She said she needed time. But I didn’t think she would run away from me.
I grabbed my phone immediately, dialing her number.
One ring.
Two.
Three.
Voicemail.
I pulled the phone away, staring at the screen like it had personally offended me, before calling again.
Straight to voicemail.
“Fuck…”
I typed a message quickly.
Carlos:
Where are you?
No response.
Another one.
Carlos:
Can we talk?
Just please talk to me, don’t shut me out
Still nothing.
The silence was louder than any argument we had ever had.
⸻
It had been three days.
Three days of nothing.
No calls.
No messages.
No answers.
I had tried everything.
I went to her favorite café — nothing.
Called her friends — they claimed they hadn’t seen her. Which I knew it was a lie.
I even checked places I knew she liked to go when she needed space.
Nothing.
It was like she had disappeared.
And that… that scared me more than anything.
Because Y/n wasn’t dramatic. She didn’t do things halfway.
If she left like this—
She meant it.
⸻
On the fourth day, I stopped waiting.
If she wasn’t going to answer me, then I was going to find her.
Simple as that.
I stood in front of her best friend’s apartment, knocking on the door harder than necessary.
A few seconds later, the door opened.
She looked at me like she had been expecting this.
“Took you long enough,” she said, leaning against the frame.
“Where is she?” I asked immediately.
She crossed her arms.
“Why?”
I stared at her, disbelief mixing with frustration.
“Are you serious right now?”
“I am,” she replied, unfazed. “Because from what I saw the other night, you let your mother humiliate her in front of everyone.”
My jaw tightened.
“I didn’t let anything happen. I defended her.”
“After,” she shot back. “You defended her after the damage was already done.”
That hit harder than I expected.
Because a part of me knew she wasn’t entirely wrong.
I exhaled sharply, running a hand over my face.
“I’m not here to argue,” I said, my voice lower now. “I just… I need to talk to her.”
She studied me for a moment, as if trying to decide whether I was worth the trouble.
“Talking isn’t going to fix this,” she said finally.
“I know,” I admitted. “But doing nothing is worse.”
Silence stretched between us.
“I know you never liked me, but you also never gave me the chance to prove that I’m not the type of person you presume I am.”
Then, reluctantly, she sighed and stepped aside.
“She’s not okay,” she warned. “And if you hurt her again, then I’ll know exactly what your type is.”
“I’m not planning to hurt her,” I muttered, walking past her.
“That’s what everyone says.”
⸻
Y/n was sitting on the couch.
Curled into herself, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders despite the warm weather. Her eyes were fixed on something on the TV, but I could tell she wasn’t actually watching.
She just needed the noise.
“Y/n…”
Her entire body tensed.
Slowly, she turned her head to look at me.
And that’s when I felt it.
Distance.
Not anger.
Not sadness.
Distance.
“Hi, Carlos,” she said quietly.
No nickname.
No softness.
Just my name.
That alone was enough to make my chest ache.
“Can we talk?” I asked, stepping closer.
She hesitated.
Then nodded once.
I sat across from her, not too close.
It felt wrong to be close.
“I’ve been trying to reach you,” I started.
“I know,” she replied.
That caught me off guard.
“You… knew?”
She nodded again.
“I just didn’t want to answer.”
The honesty stung.
“I needed space,” she added, her voice steady but tired. “Real space. Not the kind where you say you’ll give it to me but keep texting anyway.”
I swallowed hard.
Fair.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “For that… and for everything else.”
She looked down at her hands.
Silence filled the room again.
“I meant what I said,” I continued. “About choosing you. About standing by you.”
“I know you did,” she said softly.
That wasn’t the response I expected.
“Then why does it feel like you’re… giving up on us?”
Her eyes lifted to mine, and for a second, I saw it — the pain still there, raw and unfiltered.
“I’m not giving up,” she said. “I’m protecting myself.”
My chest tightened.
“From me?”
“From what comes with you,” she corrected.
That hurt.
But I let her continue.
“I love you, Carlos,” she said, her voice breaking just slightly. “But loving you means dealing with her. With the comments, the looks, the constant feeling that I’m not enough.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but she shook her head.
“And before you say it — yes, you defend me. Yes, you try. I see that.” She inhaled deeply. “But I’m still the one who has to stand there and take it.”
I had no answer to that.
Because she was right.
“I can’t marry into that,” she whispered. “Not like this.”
The words settled heavily between us.
“So what are you saying?” I asked, my voice quieter now.
“I’m saying I need more than words, Carlos.”
Her gaze held mine, steady.
“I need to see that things will actually change.”
Love of my life part. 6
Pairing: Max Verstappen x Neighbor Bff! Reader
Summary: Two dreams are born on the same street, separated by nothing more than a white fence.
She wants to conquer stages. He wants to conquer racetracks. Between childhood promises, growing pains, victories, and quiet moments in between, they learn that growing up doesn’t mean growing apart — it means learning how to win together.
A story about ambition, love, and the kind of connection that survives time, distance, and the entire world watching.
The garden felt different.
The white fence had been freshly painted, the flowers looked more carefully tended, and the house in the background was quiet. There were no cameras. No crew. No crowd.
Just as simple as it was years ago.
Just the golden late afternoon and the distant sound of birds.
She was barefoot on the grass, her light dress swaying with the soft wind. She had come thinking it would just be a quick visit before they returned to Europe. He had insisted. Said he wanted to “see something.”
He was too quiet.
“You’re acting really weird,” she commented, looking around.
“I always act weird here.”
She smiled to the side.
“Because you lost to me in that bike race.”
“I let you win.”
“Liar.”
He let out a quiet laugh, but it didn’t hide his nervousness. His hands were cold. She noticed.
“ Max…”
He walked over to the white fence, running his fingers along the wood as if he were touching a memory.
“Do you remember what I said here?”
She stepped closer, crossing her arms.
“You said you were going to be a Formula 1 driver.”
“And you said you were going to be a famous singer.”
“We were very full of ourselves back then.”
“But we were right though.” Silence fell again. Heavier this time.
She felt it before she saw it.
He turned to face her, his eyes different. It wasn’t race tension. It wasn’t focus. It was something more vulnerable.
“I’ve won races. Won championships.” He took a deep breath. “ But this… this has always been the most important thing to me.”
Her heart started racing.
“Max…”
He took a step closer.
“I grew up with you. I won with you. I learned how to lose with you. And the most important thing is that I learned to love with you.” He took a step closer. “I don’t want to imagine any future that doesn’t have you in it.”
The world seemed to shrink to the space between them.
He knelt down.
Her hand flew to her mouth automatically.
There was no audience. No flashes. Just the sound of the wind. And the two of them.
He opened the box.
“You are the love of my life and I can’t imagine my life without you in it.” She was already crying. “Will you marry me?”
She started laughing and crying at the same time.
“You’re a world champion. That was supposed to be a more elaborate speech.”
He smiled, his eyes shining.
“I’m good with a steering wheel. Not so much with words.”
She dropped to her knees in front of him before even answering, holding his face with both hands.
“Yes.”
“Yes?”
“Yes, I want to be yours. Forever.”
He let out the breath he’d been holding and pulled her into a kiss that tasted like childhood, like a promise fulfilled, like everything they had been and everything they still would be.
When they pulled apart, he slid the ring onto her finger with slightly trembling hands.
She looked at her hand, in disbelief.
“We actually did everything we promised to each other.”
He rested his forehead against hers.
“Not everything yet.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Oh really?”
“We promised we’d be happy.”
She smiled slowly.
“That… we already started.”
He stood up, pulling her with him, wrapping an arm around her waist and lifting her off the ground like he used to when they were twelve.
She laughed out loud.
The sun began to set behind the white fence, painting the sky in orange and pink.
No audience.
No titles.
Just them.
And for the first time, the future didn’t feel like a distant goal.
It felt like home.
Maxverstappen1 Instagram post
Maxverstappen1 This is the face of the person I fell in love with all those years ago when I first saw her, right after she moved into the house next to mine. Since then, I have never felt alone again, and even with all the time zones, shows, races, and countless times life tested our relationship, I never had a single doubt that you were and always will be the love of my life.
Your “yes” when I asked you to marry me made me the happiest man in the world. I love you, and I always will.
Masterlist: @charlesgirl16 @livelaughlovebylerr @lovingfurypanda @eiffel-hood
Carlos Sainz
Multi part stories
She doesn’t like me
Part. 1 | Part. 2 | Part. 3
Blurbs
She doesn’t like me (Part 1)
Pairing: Carlos Sainz x Fiancée!reader
Summary: Carlos and Y/n’s relationship is tested by the limit. Forcing them to confront love, boundaries, and what they’re truly willing to fight for.
My mother was never subtle.
If she liked someone, she made sure to show it. If she didn’t, she made sure to make that clear too. Unfortunately, Y/n fell into the second category.
I had known from the start that their relationship wouldn’t be easy. My mother always had a very specific idea of the kind of person who should be by my side. Y/n, on the other hand, never cared to fit into those. She was independent, determined, and had no patience for the games my mother loved to play.
Over the past few months, the provocations had become more frequent. Small comments disguised as concern, judgmental glances, veiled comparisons to ex-girlfriends my mother approved of. Y/n had always handled it with her head held high, but I saw the tension in her shoulders every time we left a family dinner.
Today, however, was supposed to be different.
I had gathered my family in the garden of our house in Madrid. It was a special dinner, and I wanted everyone to be there when I announced our engagement. I knew my mother wouldn’t be thrilled, but I had hoped she would at least try to hide her disappointment.
That was my mistake.
“A toast!” I raised my glass, my heart pounding harder than usual. Under the table, Y/n squeezed my hand, and I smiled at her, trying to reassure her. “Y/n and I have something important to share with you all.”
My mother was already giving me that skeptical look.
“We’re engaged.”
Silence.
For a second, only the sound of glasses clinking echoed around the table. My father smiled, my sisters started clapping, but my mother… My mother simply took a deep breath and placed her wine glass on the table with more force than necessary.
“Engaged?” she repeated, forcing a smile. “Well… I hope you at least made a prenuptial agreement.”
Y/n inhaled slowly, her fingers tightening around the stem of her glass. For a moment, it looked like she was going to say something — to defend herself, to fight back.
But then her lips pressed into a thin line, and she simply nodded.
That hurt more than anything. She wasn’t fighting anymore.
The air seemed to leave Y/n’s body. She blinked a few times, as if unsure she had heard correctly. My stomach twisted.
“Mamá…” I started, but she raised a hand.
“I’m just being realistic, Carlos. You have a lot to lose. These things need to be carefully considered.”
I saw the exact moment Y/n stopped trying to hold back her tears. Her eyes welled up, and before I could say anything, she pushed back her chair and stood up, mumbling an apology before disappearing into the house.
My chest burned with anger. I stood up so fast I almost knocked over my chair.
“What the hell was that?” My voice was low, but filled with frustration.
My mother just shrugged.
“I’m thinking about your future, Carlos.”
“No. You’re being cruel. You’ve always been cold toward Y/n, but today you crossed the line.”
“Oh, please. Do you really think this girl…”
“This girl is the woman I love!” My voice rose, and I felt all eyes on us. “And if you truly cared about me, you’d at least pretend to respect that.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but I didn’t give her the chance. I turned and walked into the house, finding Y/n in the hallway, wiping her eyes with the back of her hands.
“Lo siento, cariño…” I murmured, stepping closer.
“I tried, Carlos… God knows how hard I tried.”
Her voice cracked, and that was it. Not the tears, not the words — that sound.
It shattered something inside me.
I cupped her face in my hands, making her look at me.
She leaned into my touch for a second — just one — like she needed it.
And then she pulled away.
“I know. But you don’t have to prove anything to anyone. Least of all to her.”
Y/n’s eyes shone with a new kind of emotion.
“Carlos… what if… what if she never accepts me?”
I took a deep breath, caressing her cheek.
“Then that’s her problem. Because I choose you. Always.”
I felt the exact moment Y/n tensed in my arms. Her fingers clenched the fabric of my shirt, and when she pulled away, her eyes were filled with doubt.
“I… I’m not breaking off the engagement.” she started, and for a brief moment, I felt relief. But then she continued. “But I need some time alone.”
My throat went dry.
“Y/n…”
“It’s not fair to me, Carlos.” She shook her head, avoiding my gaze. “I know you love me, but how am I supposed to marry you knowing your mother will never accept me? Knowing she’ll always see me as someone who isn’t good enough for you?”
“I can’t spend the rest of my life fighting for a place I should already have.”
My chest tightened.
“What are you saying?”
“I just need time to process all of this.” She sighed, forcing a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I love you. But this… hurts.”
Before I could say anything else, she gave me one last look and left.
I stood there, frozen in the hallway, feeling the weight of what had just happened.
The anger inside me boiled over.
I turned around and marched back to the garden, where my mother still sat as if nothing had happened.
“Are you happy now?” My voice was cold, devoid of patience.
She raised an eyebrow.
“Carlos, don’t be dramatic…”
“Dramatic?” I let out a humorless laugh, running a hand through my hair. “She left, mamá. You got what you wanted.”
“If she left that easily, maybe that says something about her.”
My blood boiled.
“No. It says something about you.”
My mother narrowed her eyes.
“Carlos…”
“I love you, but today…” I took a deep breath, trying to control myself. “Today, you crossed every line. You hurt the woman I love. And honestly? I don’t know when—or if—she’ll be able to get over it.”
She said nothing. For the first time, I saw a flicker of hesitation in her expression.
“If I lose Y/n because of you, mamá…” I continued, my voice firm. “I will never forgive you.”
I didn’t wait for a response. I simply walked away, determined to do whatever it took to get Y/n back.
Will you be our valentine?
Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Wife!reader
Summary: Charles and your son Levi ask you to be their valentine.
I woke up to an empty and cold bed, which was unusual.
Normally, Charles would still be wrapped around me, half-asleep, and Levi would have already climbed into bed, demanding attention in the sweetest, most chaotic way possible.
But today… nothing.
I frowned slightly, sitting up and checking the time. Early — but not that early.
Something was off.
I got up, slipping on one of Charles’ hoodies and walked over to the window, pulling the curtains open.
The view instantly made me laugh.
In the backyard, Charles and Levi were running around like two kids, both in just their shorts, chasing each other across the grass. Leo barked excitedly, sprinting alongside them, clearly convinced he was part of the game.
Levi’s laughter echoed through the garden, loud and carefree, while Charles pretended to dramatically lose, letting Levi “win” every time.
It was just… perfect.
I shook my head, smiling to myself before heading to the bathroom to get ready. After a quick shower and getting dressed, I made my way downstairs and out to the lawn.
“Mama!” Levi spotted me instantly.
He ran straight toward me, Leo right behind him, and I crouched down just in time to catch him in my arms.
“Good morning, mama,” he said, wrapping his little arms around my neck.
“Good morning, baby,” I smiled, kissing his forehead.
Charles walked over a second later, slightly out of breath but smiling in that soft way that always made my heart melt.
“You guys woke up early today,” I said.
“Levi showed up in the room saying he was hungry,” Charles explained. “So we came down, had some fruit, and decided to enjoy the sun a bit.”
He leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to my lips.
Levi immediately frowned.
“You know she was mine long before she was yours, right?” Charles teased.
“My mama,” Levi said firmly, hugging me tighter.
I laughed.
“Oh really? Is that how it works?”
“Clearly,” Charles said. “Just lost my wife to my one son.”
“Well,” I said, standing up and setting Levi back down, “you boys keep playing. I’m going to eat something before I starve.”
I headed inside, still smiling, but the moment I stepped into the kitchen—I froze.
The countertop was covered in rose petals.
Red heart-shaped balloons floated near the ceiling, and right in the center was a beautifully prepared breakfast… with a small card beside it.
My heart softened instantly.
I picked it up.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, baby. Levi and I are so lucky to have you in our lives.
We love you so much. Hope you enjoy the breakfast we made for you.”
Love, Charles and Levi.
I let out a quiet, emotional laugh, pressing the card to my chest for a second.
“Did you like it, mama?”
I turned around.
Levi stood there with Charles behind him, both watching me expectantly.
“I love it,” I said, my voice softer than before.
They both smiled — Levi proudly, Charles more subtly, but just as warm.
“You deserve it.” Charles said.
I sat down and started eating, still taking everything in.
“So,” I asked, “what are the plans for today?”
Charles leaned against the counter, arms crossed casually.
“We’re going out for lunch,” he began, “then we’ll spend the afternoon on the yacht… enjoy the weather.”
I raised an eyebrow, smiling.
“And later?”
“Levi’s going to uncle Arthur’s house.” he said, completely serious.
I blinked.
“…Does Arthur know about this, or—”
He grinned.
“He offered.”
I laughed.
“Of course he did.”
“Mama?” Levi tugged lightly at my arm.
“Yes, baby?”
“Can I have one of your strawberries?”
“Of course you can.”
I picked him up and sat him on my lap, handing him one. He took a bite, clearly very satisfied with his life.
Then he looked up at me, eyes big and soft.
“Do you want to be my valentine, mama?”
My heart completely melted.
“Oh, baby… of course I want to be your valentine,” I said, kissing his forehead.
“Wow,” Charles muttered, shaking his head. “Seriously, im losing my wife to my own son.”
I laughed.
“You better watch your back then.”
Charles leaned in, kissing me softly.
“I’m already way behind, aren’t I?”
“Completely,” I teased.
Levi just smiled proudly, completely unaware that he had already won everything that mattered.
Can you do like a part 2 of ‘’Another Little Verstappen’’ please
Heyy, thank you for your request.
Second and last part of the Another Little Verstappen in posted.
Here’s the link
Another little verstappen part. 2
Pairing: Dad!Max Verstappen x Mom!reader
Summary: Your new baby is bons and you and Max are just so in love with the new family addition.
This was requested and it’s the last part, so it wont have a part 3.
The front door clicked shut behind them.
For the first time in what felt like days — maybe weeks — the house was quiet.
Not the suspicious kind of quiet.
A rare one.
Max stepped in first, one hand carrying the bag, the other instinctively hovering close to you as if you might trip and fall if he didn’t keep you within reach. You followed slowly, the baby carrier in your arms.
Home.
You both just… stood there for a second.
Taking it in.
“This is weird.” Max muttered, glancing around.
“What it’s weird?”
“No screaming, just pure silence.”
“No tiny footsteps running around also.” you added.
“No Lando,” he finished.
You both looked at each other and then started laughing.
A small sound came from the carrier.
Both of your heads snapped down instantly.
And just like that — your entire world narrowed again.
You bent slightly, pulling back the soft blanket just enough to see her tiny face.
Sleeping peacefully.
And just perfect.
Max leaned closer, his voice automatically softer.
“She’s so small,” he whispered, like he still couldn’t believe it.
You smiled tiredly. “You said that about the other two.”
“Yeah, but this one is… extra small.”
You laughed under your breath as you carefully made your way to the living room, lowering yourself onto the couch.
Max hovered.
“You can sit, you know,” you teased.
“I am sitting.”
“You’re standing.”
“I’m supervising.”
You rolled your eyes.
“Max.”
He finally sat next to you, immediately leaning in, one arm behind you, the other resting near the baby like a protective barrier.
Silence settled again.
A softer one this time.
You looked at him.
He was staring at her.
Completely gone.
Your heart squeezed.
“Say it,” you murmured.
He blinked. “Say what?”
“The thing you’ve been thinking since the hospital.”
He hesitated.
Then sighed dramatically, running a hand through his hair.
“I was so sure it was going to be a boy.”
You burst out laughing.
“There it is.”
“No, seriously,” he continued, now fully committed to the complaint, “statistically, it made sense. We had two girls. The odds—”
“Don’t bring math into this.”
“I’m just saying,” he pointed gently toward the baby, “I am severely outnumbered in this house.”
“You love it.”
He didn’t even try to deny it.
“…I do,” he admitted.
Then, softer—
“But I don’t understand how I keep making girls.”
You laughed harder, leaning your head on his shoulder.
“That sounds like a you problem.”
He narrowed his eyes at you.
“This is a team effort.”
“Not biologically.”
He huffed, but there was a smile pulling at his lips.
After a moment, his hand moved.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Resting over the baby.
Then sliding just slightly until it brushed yours.
“I wouldn’t change it,” he said quietly.
You turned your head to look at him.
“Even if you never get your boy?”
He met your eyes.
“I already have everything I need.”
That familiar feeling hit your chest again.
“Unfair,” you whispered. “You can’t say things like that when I’m this emotional.”
He smirked faintly.
“Noted.”
The baby stirred slightly.
Both of you froze.
Waited.
She settled again.
You both exhaled at the same time.
Max leaned back, shaking his head.
“This is worse than race starts.”
⸻
The next morning came quietly.
Too quietly.
You woke to the softest sound — a small, restless whine.
Instinct.
Your eyes opened immediately.
The space beside you was empty.
Max was gone.
You didn’t think much of it — not yet.
Your focus shifted instantly to the baby.
You carefully lifted her, settling back against the pillows as you held her close.
Everything else faded.
The world shrank again to just this.
Her tiny movements.
The warmth.
The quiet.
Time passed differently like this.
Slower.
Softer.
When she finished, you adjusted her gently, pressing a soft kiss to her head before placing her back in the crib beside the bed.
Still no Max.
Now you frowned slightly.
You slipped out of bed, wrapping something comfortable around yourself before stepping into the hallway.
The house felt… different.
Not quiet anymore.
You heard it before you saw anything.
Voices.
Multiple.
Laughter.
Your brows furrowed as you walked closer to the kitchen.
And then—
“…I’m telling you, we need to start early training,” Lando’s voice.
“Absolutely not,” Max replied immediately.
“She needs proper guidance.”
“She’s a newborn.”
“That’s the perfect time to start!”
You pushed the kitchen doorway open.
And froze.
The house was no longer quiet.
Not even close.
Everyone was there.
Lando, standing like he owned the place, already holding one of your mugs.
Your sisters, your other brother, your parents.
Max’s parents.
His sister.
Your two daughters running around like tiny hurricanes.
The kitchen was alive — food being prepared, people talking over each other, laughter filling every corner.
It took exactly two seconds for them to notice you.
“MAMA!” your oldest shouted, immediately running toward you.
Your youngest followed right behind her.
You barely had time to react before they crashed into you carefully — clearly instructed not to be too rough.
You laughed, wrapping your arms around them.
“I thought you were at Uncle Lando’s house,” you said, looking up.
“I brought them back,” he said proudly.
“Of course you did.”
Max appeared beside him, looking half guilty, half amused.
“I tried to stop him.”
“You did not,” Lando shot back.
“I thought about stopping him.”
“That doesn’t count.”
You shook your head, smiling despite yourself.
“What is all this?”
“Breakfast,” your mom said.
“Lunch,” Max’s mom corrected.
“Celebration,” Lando added.
“Chaos,” Max muttered.
You looked around.
At everyone.
At your daughters.
At your husband, now standing close enough that his hand found your waist automatically.
At the life you had somehow built.
Loud and messy.
Lando suddenly pointed at you.
“Where’s my favorite baby?”
Max stepped in immediately. “You have no favorites.”
“I absolutely do.”
“Not this one.”
“Definitely this one.”
You rolled your eyes, turning slightly.
“She’s sleeping.”
Lando gasped dramatically. “Already ignoring me. I knew it.”
Max smirked. “She’s smart.”
You leaned into him slightly, your head brushing his shoulder.
“Welcome home,” he murmured softly.
You smiled.
Because home wasn’t quiet anymore.
And you wouldn’t have it any other way.
Blondie
Pairing: Max Verstappen x Girlfriend!reader
Summary: you take a risk and change you brunette hair to blonde.
“Are you sure about this?” Max asked again, leaning against the bathroom counter, watching me for what felt like the tenth time.
I glanced at him through the bathroom mirror, fingers lightly playing with the ends of my hair.
“I don’t know…” I admitted, exhaling softly. “It’s a big change.”
He pushed himself off the wall and walked toward me slowly and his hands slid to my waist.
“You’ve been thinking about it for a long time.” he murmured close to my ear.
“I know, but thinking about it and actually doing it are two very different things.”
He hummed, resting his chin on my shoulder, both of us staring at my reflection.
“You’d look good with any hair,” he said. “Blonde, brunette, pink… doesn’t matter.”
I smiled faintly. “That’s not helpful.”
“It is,” he insisted, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my hip. “Because it means you can’t mess this up.”
I turned around to face him, raising an eyebrow. “So I won’t regret it?”
His lips curved into that cocky, soft smile I knew too well.
“Oh, I might regret it.” My eyes narrowed slightly.
“Excuse me?”
“Yeah,” he said, pretending to think. “Because if you come back looking even better than you already do…”
He leaned in just enough for his breath to brush against my lips.
“…I’m not letting you leave the house anymore.”
I laughed, pushing his chest lightly. “You’re so dramatic.”
“And you love it.” I didn’t deny it.
“So?” I crossed my arms, still smiling. “Final opinion before I go ruin my hair?”
He looked at me for a second—really looked—his expression softening in a way that made my heart skip.
“Do it,” he said simply. “I want to see that version of you.”
That was all I needed.
“Okay,” I whispered. “I’m doing it.”
Max didn’t say anything else—he just pulled me closer and kissed me. Slow, deliberate, like he was sealing the decision.
“Text me when you’re done,” he murmured against my lips.
“Maybe I won’t,” I teased. His eyes darkened just a little.
“Then I’ll spend the whole day imagining it.”
“Good.” I smiled. “Suffer a little.”
⸻
The hours at the salon felt longer than they should have.
Every step—washing, bleaching, toning—made it more real. More irreversible.
And when they finally spun the chair around…
I froze.
Blonde.
Soft, bright, completely different—but somehow still me.
I lifted a hand, running my fingers through it, heart racing.
Max was going to have a big reaction. I just didn’t know how intense it would be.
I grabbed my phone, typing his name on FaceTime… then stopped.
No.
This was going to be better in person.
But before going back to our apartment, I went to Victoria secret to buy another little surprise for him.
⸻
“Max?” I called as I walked into the house, trying—and failing—to sound normal.
“In the kitchen love.”
I took a breath, biting back a smile, then stepped in.
He was by the counter, mid-sentence about something—probably something completely random—and then he turned.
And just… stopped.
Completely.
His eyes locked on mine first, then slowly moved up, taking in every detail.
Silence.
I crossed my arms, pretending confidence. “Please say something.”
He blinked once, like he needed to reset his brain.
“You’re joking,” he finally said under his breath.
“That bad?”
That snapped him out of it immediately.
He walked toward me slowly, eyes still fixed on me like I was something new.
“That good,” he corrected, stopping right in front of me.
His hands found my waist automatically, fingers tightening just a little as he leaned closer.
“You look…” he paused, searching for the right word. “Dangerous.”
I laughed softly. “Dangerous?”
“Yeah.” His gaze dropped briefly to my lips before coming back up. “Like I’m about to make bad decisions.”
“Oh, so this is a problem now?”
“A serious one.”
I tilted my head, letting a strand of blonde hair fall forward. “You told me to do it.”
“I didn’t know it was going to look like this.”
“And what does ‘this’ mean?”
His thumb brushed lightly along my jaw.
“It means I’m trying really hard to remember what I was doing before you walked in.”
I smiled, stepping just a little closer, closing the space between us.
“And failing?”
“Completely.”
I bit my lip, enjoying this way too much. “So you don’t regret it telling me to do it?”
He let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head.
“Not even a little.” His voice dropped slightly. “But I definitely underestimated it.”
“Oh yeah?” I teased. “How bad is it?”
Instead of answering, he leaned in, his lips brushing mine—slow, lingering, like he was taking his time learning something new.
“Bad,” he murmured.
My fingers slid up to his shoulders, gripping lightly.
“You’re being dramatic again.”
“Not this time,” he said, kissing me again—longer now, deeper, like he was proving a point.
When he pulled back, his forehead rested against mine.
“I leave you alone for a few hours and you come back like this?” he whispered.
“You like it.”
“I love it,” he corrected immediately.
I smiled, softer now. “Good. Because I was a little scared.”
His expression changed instantly, one hand moving up to tuck my hair behind my ear.
“Don’t be,” he said quietly. “You’re still you.”
“That’s kind of the point.”
“Exactly.” He tilted his head slightly. “Just… upgraded.”
I laughed. “Wow, upgraded?”
“Yeah,” he smirked. “And now I have to deal with it.”
“Deal with what?”
He pulled me closer again, arms wrapping around my waist.
“Not wanting to let you out of my sight.” He said. “And the tightness of my pants .”
I leaned into him, resting my hands against his chest. “Sounds like a you problem.”
“Oh, it is,” he agreed easily. “But it’s also a you and me problem.”
I smiled, looking up at him.
“You’re impossible.”
“And you made it worse.”
“On purpose.”
That made him laugh—soft, genuine.
“Come here,” he murmured again, like he couldn’t stop himself.
And this time, when he kissed me, there was no teasing behind it—just warmth, closeness, and that quiet intensity that always pulled me in.
He didn’t pull away completely this time.
Instead, his hand slid down my arm, fingers intertwining with mine as he took a small step back—guiding me with him.
“Come here,” Max murmured, his voice quieter now, but somehow even more dangerous.
I raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing on my lips. “Where are you taking me?”
“You’ll see.”
“That doesn’t sound suspicious at all.”
He let out a soft laugh, glancing at me over his shoulder as he started walking toward the stairs, still holding my hand.
“Are you coming or not?”
I followed without another word.
Of course I did.
The moment we stepped into the bedroom, the air felt different.
Quieter.
Closer.
Max closed the door behind us, the soft click echoing louder than it should have.
I turned to face him, crossing my arms lightly. “So…?”
He didn’t answer right away.
Instead, he just looked at me again—really looked—like he still wasn’t over it.
“This is still distracting,” he said finally.
I tilted my head. “You’ve said that already.”
“Yeah, and I’ll keep saying for a long time”
I laughed under my breath. “You’re unbelievable.”
“And you did this on purpose.”
“Maybe I did.”
That was all it took.
In a second, he was in front of me again, his hands finding my waist, pulling me closer until there was barely any space left between us.
“You’re trouble,” he murmured.
“And you like trouble.”
His lips brushed mine—slow at first, testing—before deepening just enough to make my breath hitch.
My hands slid up to his shoulders, gripping lightly as he backed me up a step… then another… until the back of my legs hit the edge of the bed.
I let out a soft laugh against his lips. “You planned this.”
“Maybe,” he said, not even pretending to deny it.
I pushed him lightly, switching positions so he stumbled back onto the bed, a surprised laugh escaping him.
“Hey—”
“I told you,” I said, climbing onto the mattress, moving closer, “this was a you problem.”
He watched me, eyes darker now, hands immediately finding my hips the second I got close enough.
“Is it?” he challenged quietly.
I leaned down just enough for my hair to fall around us like a curtain, brushing against his face.
“You tell me.”
His grip tightened slightly, pulling me closer again.
“Definitely is,” he murmured before kissing me again—slower this time, but deeper, like he wasn’t in any rush anymore.
My fingers slipped into his hair instinctively, and I felt him smile against my lips.
“Careful,” he whispered. “You just got it done.”
“I don’t care.”
“That’s obvious.”
I laughed softly, resting my forehead against his for a second, both of us catching our breath.
There was something softer underneath it all now—still intense, still charged—but warmer.
More familiar.
“You really like it?” I asked quietly, almost shy for the first time.
His expression softened instantly.
“I really do,” he said. “But not just because of how it looks.”
I frowned slightly. “Then why?”
He brushed a strand of my hair back gently.
“Because you walked in there, did something that scared you… and came back even more confident.”
My heart did that annoying little flip.
“You noticed that?”
“I notice everything when it’s about you.”
I smiled, softer now, leaning into his touch.
“Good answer.”
“I know.”
I rolled my eyes playfully, but didn’t move away.
For a moment, neither of us said anything.
Just stayed there.
Close.
Comfortable.
Then, of course—
“You’re still distracting, by the way,” he added.
I laughed, shaking my head. “You’re never letting that go, are you?”
“Not a chance.”
I leaned down again, pressing a softer kiss to his lips this time.
“Good,” I whispered. “Because I’m not changing it.”
“Perfect.”
His arms wrapped around me again, pulling me down with him as we settled into the bed—no rush, no urgency now.
Just the quiet kind of closeness that made everything else fade away.
And honestly?
That was even better.
Lovely/n Instagram stories
Find a boyfriend who inspires you to change and to become an even better version of yourself—just like mine does 🤍 @maxverstappen1
I promised you
Pairing: Lando Norris x childhood sweetheart!reader
Summary: it’s your wedding day and Lando keeps his promises. Even if that promise was made years ago.
Married.
That’s what I was getting today.
Lando and I have known each other all our lives. We’ve been best friends since we were kids.
We’ve been dating since forever, had all our first times together, and I truly believe we are soulmates.
I remember the first time we met—and the first time he said we would get married.
We were seven.
He was playing with his little McLaren cars while I was organizing my bracelets in a small box his mom had given me.
“Lando, give it back,” I complained, trying to grab my bracelet, but he kept pulling it away. “Lan.”
“I’m not giving it back.”
“It’s my favorite bracelet, you’ll ruin it.”
“I’ll only give it back when we get married.”
“That’s going to take forever, we’re still kids.”
“Then when we grow up, we’ll get married—and then I’ll give it back.”
I huffed, giving up, and sat back down on the fluffy carpet.
⸻
“You look so beautiful,” my mom says behind me, adjusting my veil.
“Thank you, mom.”
In the room with me were my mom, Lando’s mom, Lily, some close friends, and a few family members.
“You already looked beautiful when we chose the dress, but now… you look perfect,” someone says, smiling.
“Do you guys really think so?”
“Of course. You’re the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen,” Lily squeezes my hand gently.
“It will all work out. You two are meant for each other.”
The nerves hit me all at once. My chest tightens, tears filling my eyes.
“Honey, breathe.”
“Can I talk to him? Please.”
They exchange looks but nod, leaving the room quietly.
A few seconds later—
“Babe?” his voice comes softly from behind the door.
“Hi.”
“Are you okay? Your mom said you wanted to see me.”
“I’m nervous… I can’t breathe properly.”
He opens the door just a little, slipping his hand through.
“Hold my hand.”
I intertwine our fingers instantly.
“Now breathe with me.”
I follow his rhythm, slowly calming down.
“It’s going to be okay,” he says softly. “In a few minutes, you’ll walk down that aisle, and I’ll be there—probably crying because of how beautiful you look.”
I let out a small laugh.
“I love you. That’s not changing. I’m not going anywhere.”
We stay like that for a few more minutes until he has to go.
⸻
A soft knock.
“Come in.”
Lando’s mom walks in, smiling warmly.
“I won’t keep you long,” she says, taking my hands. “I just wanted to see you before everything starts.”
“Of course.”
She looks at me with teary eyes.
“I’ve watched you two grow up together… from children running around the house to this moment.” She laughs softly. “I always knew this day would come.”
I smile, already emotional again.
“Thank you for loving him the way you do. He’s… he’s truly himself when he’s with you.”
“Thank you for raising him the way you did,” I reply gently. “He’s everything to me.”
She squeezes my hands.
“And today… you’re not just marrying him. You’re part of our family forever. You already were—but now it’s official.”
That makes me tear up again.
“Careful,” she jokes softly. “Makeup.”
We both laugh.
⸻
“Ready?” my dad appears at the door.
I nod.
“You look beautiful.”
“Thanks, dad.”
⸻
The music starts.
I’m standing at the door, arm linked with my father’s.
As it opens, I see him.
Lando.
His expression shifts the second he sees me—his eyes widening, then softening into the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen.
And just like he said—
He’s already tearing up.
I laugh softly as I walk toward him.
When we reach the altar, my dad shakes his hand, whispering something before placing my hand in his.
“You look beautiful,” Lando whispers.
“So do you.”
He squeezes my hand.
⸻
“I, Lando Norris, take you, Y/N Y/L/N, as my lawful wife. To love and respect you, in sickness and in health, in wealth and in poverty, until death do us part.”
“I, Y/N Y/L/N, take you, Lando Norris, as my lawful husband. To love and respect you, in sickness and in health, in wealth and in poverty, until death do us part.”
“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
His hands cup my face as he kisses me, and I can hear everyone cheering around us. I smile against his lips.
When we pull apart, our foreheads rest together.
“I have something for you,” he whispers.
My heart skips.
“What?”
He pulls something from his pocket—
And I freeze.
The bracelet.
My bracelet.
The one from years ago.
“Lando…”
“I told you I’d give it back when we got married,” he says softly, fastening it around my wrist. “I keep my promises.”
Tears fall freely now.
“And I meant it back then too… I’m not going anywhere. You’re the love of my life.”
“I love you more,” I whisper. “And I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”
He smiles, taking my hand.
And together—
We walk down the aisle, finally starting our life as one.
Love of my life part. 5
Pairing: Max Verstappen x Neighbor Bff! Reader
Summary: Two dreams are born on the same street, separated by nothing more than a white fence.
She wants to conquer stages. He wants to conquer racetracks. Between childhood promises, growing pains, victories, and quiet moments in between, they learn that growing up doesn’t mean growing apart — it means learning how to win together.
A story about ambition, love, and the kind of connection that survives time, distance, and the entire world watching.
The stadium was shaking.
It wasn’t a metaphor. The ground really vibrated beneath her feet as the lights flashed in white and gold, reflecting on the massive screen where the name Y/n glowed like something too unreal to be true. First night of the first world tour. Sold out.
She stood behind the curtain, taking a deep breath, feeling her heart pounding in her throat. She had spent years imagining that moment. Years saying she would become a famous singer. Years singing to a single person in the living room.
Now there were thousands.
“You look pale.” he said behind her.
She turned her face and found Max leaning against the backstage wall, the classic Red Bull cap, arms crossed, that focused look he always had when he was about to race.
“I’m scared and I think I’m gonna throw up.” she admitted.
He stepped closer slowly, completely ignoring the crew rushing around.
“Hey, look at me.” He said outing my face close to his. ”You know how to do this, I know that it’s the first time with a lot os people looking at you but, you got it.”
She let out a nervous laugh.
“You make it sound so easy.”
He held her face with both hands, firm, just like she used to do before he got into the car.
“It’s not, but I know you can do it.” He kissed the tip of my nose. “And I’ll be right here rooting for you, so if at any point you feel overwhelmed, just look for me in te crowd and pretend it’s just me and you in my living room.”
You took a breath and just let yourself be held for him for a little bit longer.
The noise of the crowd grew louder, people screaming her name.
“One minute!” someone called out.
She closed her eyes for a second. He rested his forehead against hers.
“Go.” he murmured. As I said, I’ll be right here the whole time.”
“You have a race in three days. Shouldn’t you be on some other continent?”
“Probably. But today, I’m just Max. Your Max.”
She took a deep breath, gave him one last soft kiss, and stepped out.
The explosion of light and sound was instant. The entire stadium singing before the first note even began. The fear vanished in the first verse. She owned the stage like she had been doing it her whole life.
During the third song — the one she wrote at fifteen, about promises — she walked to the side of the stage. He was there in the dark, subtle, but impossible for her not to notice. Watching like it was the most important start of his life.
“This song.” she said into the microphone, taking a breath “Is about the boy who promised he would become a Formula 1 driver and the same one I promised that I would be a famous singer. And we just happen to be sharing the dreams we promised each other that would happen.”
The crowd screamed.
He lowered his head, laughing.
She sang looking at him.
And in that moment, the entire stadium disappeared.
——
After the show, she walked into the dressing room still electric, sweat running down her neck, makeup slightly smudged, a smile she couldn’t contain.
He closed the door behind him when the crew left.
She ran and jumped into his arms.
“I did it.” She said laughing.
He held her tight.
“I told you could do it.” He kissed her forehead.
She pulled his face closer and kissed him, adrenaline still rushing through her veins.
“Now it’s your turn. Where are we going?”
Two days later, they were sitting side by side on the jet to Abu Dhabi. The sky dark outside, the cabin softly lit. She was barefoot, legs tucked on the seat, watching him in silence.
“You’re nervous.” she said.
He looked at her.
“I’m not nervous.”
“You know that I know everything about you right.” He just looked at me. “You’ve already won races.”
“But not a title.” She held his hand.
“I’ll be there the whole time. If you get nervous, just forget about everything else and think about me.”
He squeezed her fingers.
“That’s my secret.”
Abu Dhabi was super hot. The air heavy, charged with anticipation. The last race of the season. He needed to finish ahead of his rival.
Before the start, he pulled her aside to a more private corner of the garage.
“If it goes wrong…” She cut him off.
“Don’t even start.” He gave a small smile. “You’re gonna win and that’s the only result we’re having today.”
“If it goes right, I want you at the parc fermé.
“I’ll be there waiting for you.”
The race was tense from the very first lap. Position changes, aggressive strategy, frantic radio messages. Y/n could barely breathe in the garage. His name kept switching at the top of the board by tiny margins.
Final laps.
He had to hold it.
She squeezed her hands so tightly her knuckles turned white.
When he crossed the finish line, there was half a second of silence before the collective explosion.
World Champion.
She felt the tears before realizing she was crying.
He stopped at parc fermé, turned off the car, removed the steering wheel, climbed out of the cockpit. When he took off his helmet, his face was flushed, eyes shining.
He didn’t go straight to the team.
He walked to the edge.
She was already there.
He held her face through the barrier.
“I won.”
“I told you that you would.” She could barely speak. “You’re World Champion.”
He pulled her by the waist and kissed her. Long. Intense. Not caring about the cameras flashing around them.
When they pulled apart, he rested his forehead against hers.
“You saw it.”
“I saw everything.”
On the podium, as the anthem played, he searched for her below. And she was there. Present. Exactly like they had promised years before.
Hours later, the hotel room was too quiet after all the noise.
The trophy on the table reflected the city lights.
She was sitting on the bed wearing only his shirt, hair loose, traces of makeup still on.
He came out of the bathroom with wet hair, a white t-shirt clinging to his body.
They just looked at each other.
No words.
He walked toward her slowly, stopping between her legs.
“World Champion.” she said, almost teasing. “That’s quite the title.”
“International star. Also a big title.” he replied.
She ran her fingers across his chest.
“We grew up.”
He held her waist.
“We won.”
The kiss started slow, deep, full of years built up. His hands sliding along her back. Her fingers in his hair, gently pulling.
She laughed against his lips.
“The party starts in an hour.”
He kissed her neck.
“Then we have time.”
She bit her lip.
And the trophy kept shining, forgotten on the table.
——
Later, at the Red Bull party, the lights were red and blue, loud music, champagne popping. The team celebrated like the world had stopped to watch.
He held a glass, his arm around her waist.
When the screen officially showed “World Champion,” the room exploded.
He leaned closer to her.
“I wouldn’t have made it here alone.”
She smiled.
“You were never alone.”
He raised his glass.
“To the girl by the white fence.”
She raised hers.
“To the boy who never gave up.”
And in the middle of the party, flashes, interviews, and laughter, they were still those two seven-year-olds.
Only now…
With the whole world watching.
Masterlist: @charlesgirl16 @livelaughlovebylerr @lovingfurypanda @eiffel-hood
Business party part. 2
Pairing: Max Verstappen x Gf!reader
Summary: The night of the company party has finally arrived and Y/n was super excited to introduce her boyfriend Max to her work friends but unfortunately the night doesn't end as she would have liked.
I didn’t sleep.
Not really.
Every time I closed my eyes, the night replayed itself—his words, my words, the look on his face when I walked out.
And the worst part?
I meant what I said.
At least… I thought I did.
But somewhere between the anger and the hurt, something else started creeping in.
Doubt.
A soft knock broke through the quiet.
I froze.
“Liefde Please,” his voice came from the other side of the door, quieter than I’d ever heard it. “Just… let me talk to you.”
I stared at the ceiling for a moment longer.
Part of me wanted to ignore him.
To make him feel even a fraction of what I felt last night. And what I’ve been feeling these past months.
But another part of me— The part that still loved him couldn’t just pretend that he wasn’t at the door.
So slowly, I got up and walked to the door, opening it just enough to see him.
Max looked… different.
Not just tired.
Worse.
His eyes were red, like he hadn’t slept either. His hair was messy, and for once, he didn’t try to fix it.
He just stood there.
Waiting.
“I won’t take long,” he said softly.
I hesitated.
Then stepped aside.
He didn’t come too close at first.
Like he was afraid I’d disappear if he moved too fast.
“I messed up,” he started, his voice low. “I know I did.”
I crossed my arms, not trusting myself to speak yet.
“I was exhausted yesterday, yeah,” he continued. “But that’s not an excuse. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. And I definitely shouldn’t have dismissed something that mattered to you.”
My throat tightened.
“I just…” he exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “Sometimes I get so caught up in my own world that I forget you’re trying to be part of it too. And I take that for granted.”
That hit harder than anything else.
Because it was true. I do everything that’s in my power to be there for him, even if most of the time o have to sacrifice something of my life.
“I didn’t go last night,” he added, glancing up at me. “But it wasn’t because I didn’t care. It was because I was being selfish.”
Silence filled the room again.
But this time, it wasn’t cold.
It was fragile.
“I heard what you said,” he went on, his voice softer now. “About being tired… about feeling like you’re the only one trying.”
My eyes stung.
“And that scared me,” he admitted. “Because the idea of losing you over something like this—it’s not worth it. Nothing in my life is worth it losing you.”
I looked down, my defenses starting to crack.
“I don’t want to lose you,” he said.
There it was.
Simple. Honest.
Real.
“I meant what I said too,” I whispered, finally finding my voice. “I am tired, Max.”
He nodded immediately.
“I know.”
“I feel like I’m always adjusting to your world,” I continued, my voice trembling. “Your schedule, your races, your events… and I do it because I love you and because I want to be there for you. But last night—” I shook my head. “It felt like you wouldn’t do the same for me. That the sacrifices I make to be there for you, you’re not willing to do it for me.”
“I will,” he said quickly. “I will do better. I want to do better. And I’m willing to do anything for you.”
I looked at him then, really looked at him.
Not the driver.
Not the public figure.
Just him. Just the man I fell in love with.
“But I need you to talk to me,” I added softly. “Not shut me out when you’re tired or stressed.”
“I know,” he nodded again. “I’m not good at that. But I’ll learn. I’ll even go to couples therapy if that’s what you want.”
A small, almost broken laugh escaped me.
“I’ll consider that just to torture you.” That made the corner of his lips lift—just a little.
There was a pause.
A quiet one.
But this time, it didn’t feel like distance.
“I can’t fix last night,” he said carefully. “But… can I try to make it up to you?”
I raised an eyebrow slightly.
“How?”
He hesitated for half a second—then reached into his pocket.
“I may have called someone this morning,” he admitted.
Before I could ask anything, my phone buzzed in my hand.
Confused, I looked down.
An email.
From my boss.
I opened it slowly.
And my eyes widened.
“They moved the event?” I looked up at him, disbelief written all over my face.
“It’s not the same event because it already happened last night but, I explained to him that you wanted me to meet them and he said he also wanted that so he arranged a private dinner.” he explained, a little sheepish. “Just the people that work with you. Tonight.”
“You did not—”
“I did,” he cut in, a small smile forming. “I told them I had something important to fix.”
I stared at him.
Completely speechless.
“And this time,” he stepped a little closer, his voice softer, “I’m not missing it.”
Something in my chest loosened.
Finally.
“You’re unbelievable,” I murmured.
“I know,” he said lightly. “But you love me anyway.”
I tried to hold back the smile.
Failed.
⸻
He stepped closer now—slow, careful.
Giving me time to pull away.
I didn’t.
“I’m really sorry,” he said again, his voice barely above a whisper.
“I know,” I replied.
“And I’m not choosing Formula 1 over you,” he added. “I never was. I just… didn’t realize I was making it feel that way.”
I nodded.
“Just don’t make me feel like that again.”
“I won’t,” he promised.
And this time—
I believed him.
His hand found mine, warm and steady.
And when he pulled me gently closer, I didn’t resist.
Not this time.
The weight of last night didn’t disappear.
But it didn’t control us anymore either.
Because love isn’t about never messing up.
It’s about choosing each other anyway.
Over and over again.
And that’s what we did.