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i LOVE your writing, they are so..😋 can we get some dark max verstappen and rich naive reader? please add your own twists and magic to it

Thank you ^^

WRITTEN

dark (obsessive, manipulation)

it took a whole day of my time but as I wrote this, I felt so thrill (excited and kinda laughing mid writing cause my finger won't stop till it was finish—I made it as one long shot since I don't feel making series from requests anymore) I like this very much, I hope you do too🥹

Red Bull Masterlist

A Promise With Teeth

Max Verstappen x gf!reader

When the memories snap back into place, the balance shifts, Max isn’t the predator. You are. And the pact you made as children still bites.

__________________

You’re not a driver, not a team member, not anything official. But everyone steps aside for you anyway.

Everyone knows who you belong with.

He made sure of that.

You slip in through the side entrance you always use, the one Max told you to take so no one could corner you for interviews or questions you didn’t owe them. The hallway vibrates with the engine and it’s so familiar now it feels like it echoes inside your ribs. Your pass swings against your chest as you walk.

The moment you push through into the main garage, the noise changes. Louder and sharper. Mechanics move like a well rehearsed storm around Max’s car, the blue beast under bright white lights.

But Max is not working. He’s not checking telemetry either, because he’s waiting for you and the moment you arrive, his eyes find you instantly like a lock clicking into place,

He’s sitting on the edge, on the stool, gloves half-pulled on, fireproofs zipped halfway and his posture is casual, but his gaze is not. Intense, too focused for someone who should be thinking about braking points and tyres.

You don’t even make it three steps before he stands.

“schat” he calls, said low enough that only you hear it over the noise.

There’s a mechanic walking past between you and him, but Max moves around him without breaking eye contact, straightening fully, shoulders set, jaw sharp.

He reaches you fast and his hand finds the small of your back like it always does.

Claiming but soft enough that no one watching could call it anything but protective.

“You’re late” Max murmurs, leaning down so his forehead almost touches yours. His tone isn’t accusing, it’s something else. Something that coils warm and tight in your stomach.

“I’m not” you whisper back, even though you kind of are.

“Three minutes.” His mouth curves, but his eyes? Still sharp. Still reading you. Still… hunting something in your expression.

You try to laugh it off. “You memorized the minute it takes when i'm in bathroom?”

He lifts his fingers from your lower back to your waist, brushing over your shirt in a way that makes your breath snag.

“I memorize everything about you” Max says simply, as if it’s an obvious fact. “Especially the things you don’t.”

You freeze just a beat because it feels like he’s referring to something you don’t even know you forgot.

Max notices. Of course he does.

His thumb strokes your hip. “You okay?” he asks, but it’s not casual. It’s not small talk. It's a territorial concern….checking if something got too close to you without his permission.

You nod, but it feels weak. “Just thinking.”

He tilts your chin up with two fingers, forcing your eyes to meet his.

“I told you” he says quietly “you think too much when I’m not around.”

You want to protest, tell him you’re fine. Tell him he doesn’t have to watch you this closely.

But Max smirks like he can hear the argument forming before you speak. “Don’t look at me like that” he adds softly, thumb brushing your jaw now. “I’ll forget I have to get into the car.”

He’s joking, mostly.

Your chest warms, your pulse jumps, and he takes in every second of your reaction.

He loves this, loves the way you react to him, loves that he can see every flicker of emotion you try to hide. There’s something satisfying in his gaze, something that says “you don’t even know how you affect me, do you?”

Someone calls his name. Probably his race engineer, reminding him FP2 starts soon.

Max doesn’t look away from you. “Stay here” he says. Not a question. Not even a request. “Right here. Where I can see you.”

Your breath catches. “Max, I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know” he says, bending and pressing his forehead against yours for a heartbeat. “But I like hearing you say it.”

He pulls back slowly, eyes still locked with yours, and you get this strange, deep twist in your stomach, like deja vu, like you’ve said those words before, long before today.

You don’t remember when but he does. You didn’t think much about it though, probably because you’ve been stressed for the past few days thinking about different things at the same time.

Max presses a quick, firm kiss to your temple, a promise or maybe a warning, a possession all at once…before stepping toward the car.

He glances back at you once. And the look he gives you? He’s as if looking at his prey.

You don’t know why his look hit you hard, like it already happened once. Like you once made him run after you. Like you once made him promise something you can’t remember.

Well, no importance of thinking about that now, you love max. That’s all you need to know to stay with him.

The engine roars and soon the garage vibrates. And you stayed exactly where he told you to, in the very stool you sat down.

Right where he can see you. Even if you don’t know why it matters this much. Yet.

-

As the race comes to an end, cameras flash from the pitlane, catching every angle of Max climbing out.

But he’s not looking at them, he’s looking at you. Visor still down, breath still fast with heavy breathing. Eyes locked on you like he drove straight back to you, not to the garage.

You smile, soft, excited but also distracted.

Because while he goes near, you’re checking your phone. Not doing anything scandalous, not texting anyone secret. Just scrolling through options on the cake menu, trying to pick the perfect cake to surprise him later.

But the moment Max went near, you instinctively turned your phone face down on your thigh.

Not even to hide anything. Probably just habit.

He notices, well…he notices everything.

You see it in the way his jaw tightens immediately, a quick, sharp clench that sends a ripple through the air around him. His gloves are still on, his fireproofs are half-open at the neck, sweat sticking blond hair to his forehead.

He’s not even cooled down yet but he’s already in front of you. “Why did you hide your phone?” Low, quiet but dangerous.

“Max, I didn’t hide it-”

“You turned it over the second I walked in.”

“Because I was-”

“You only do that when you don’t want me to see something.”

His voice doesn’t rise and that’s the unsettling part. Max angry is loud on track while Max jealous is quiet.

He steps closer, too close.

The garage goes weirdly still. Engineers pretend to check data screens, the mechanics suddenly get very interested in tire blankets. A cameraman slows down but doesn’t dare come this way.

Max’s gloves fingers tap the top of your phone.

“Give it to me.”

Your stomach drops. “Max, oh my god, you’re being dramatic.” You whisper it, but he hears the wobble in your voice.

He leans in, breath brushing your cheek, heat radiating off him from FP2.

“Give. Me. The phone.”

You try to slide it into your pocket, hiding it more out of instinct than intent.

A mistake. His eyes darken instantly, a flash of possessiveness so sharp it almost steals your breath. His hand shoots out, grabbing your wrist, not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough that your pulse jumps under his fingers.

“Why are you hiding from me?” he whispers harshly. “What are you doing behind my back?”

“Max-”

“I told you to stay where I can see you.” A pause. “And that includes what you’re doing.”

You look around…the whole garage is pretending to be deaf and blind but the tension is thick enough to cut.

Your cheeks burn. Not from embarrassment but from the intensity of him focusing on you like you’re the only thing that matters. “Max” you breathe“I was looking at cake.”

His eyebrow twitches. “…cake?”

“Yes. Cake. For later.” Your voice gets softer. “I wanted to surprise you after the race.”

He doesn’t move and doesn't even blink.

He just stares at you…confusion melting into realization, then into something else.

Something different, because it hits him. He doubted you and you were just trying to do something sweet for him.

Max slowly releases your wrist, but he doesn’t step back. If anything, he moves closer, shadowing you with his body, blocking you from anyone’s view.

“Show me” he murmurs.

“What?”

“The cake.”

You sigh, turning the phone over and opening the website page. Max leans in, chest brushing your shoulder, breath warm against your ear as he looks at the screen.

You feel his gloves hand slide around your waist.

And it’s not in an apologizing way, more like claiming. “Which one?” he asks, but it isn’t really about cake anymore. It’s about reassurance. About grounding himself in you.

You scroll. He watches your every movement like the screen is an extension of you.

When you land on a chocolate hazelnut mousse cake, he hums softly, approving, softened, but still possessive.

“That one” he says. “Buy it.”

You laughed it off, finally. “Bossy.”

Max leans down until his lips brush the edge of your jaw, barely a touch but enough to make your pulse jump.

“You turn your phone away from me,” he whispers “and I get to be bossy.”

Your breath becomes heavier, and you hear someone drop a wrench somewhere in the garage because the loud clang echoing and Max’s arm tightens around your waist, pulling you closer protectively.

He turns his head just enough to murmur against your skin “You’re rich, you can buy the whole bakery if you want.” His fingers stroke your side. “But don’t hide from me. Ever.”

You swallow. “I wasn’t hiding from you.”

“You were” he says quietly. “And I hate it.”

You feel something shift in his tone. Something old. Something emotional. Something like fear disguised as control.

But before you can ask what that’s about, someone calls his name for debrief. Max doesn’t move.

His hand stays on your waist. “You’re coming with me” he says.

“Into the debrief? Max, I don’t-”

“You’re coming with me.”

It’s not really negotiable because he doesn’t trust you out of his sight.

Not today, not anymore..and he has one word because Max doesn’t let go of your waist the entire walk from the garage to the briefing room.

The hallway smells like concrete dust and warm metal, echoing with the sound of mechanics rolling toolboxes. You feel eyes on you, staff, engineers, comms people, everyone pretending not to stare.

Because everyone sees it. His hand.

Your body tucked into his side. The way Max’s thumb strokes your hip in slow, distracted circles, possessive, casual, intimate. Like he’s reminding everyone you’re his.

You, meanwhile…You’re trying to pretend you’re calm.

You’re not. And by the time you reach the debrief room, your cheeks are already warm.

Max pushes the door open with his shoulder, still holding you against him.

Inside, drivers are sitting around a table with screens lit up with lap times and tire data. Christian is at the head of the room. Some are scrolling through notes. Tsunoda sits with a bottle of water, glancing up when you enter.

And instantly, every single set of eyes flicks to you.

Because you don’t belong here, you’re the only non-driver in the room, the only outsider.

The only… girlfriend? Companion? Possession? Whatever you are to Max, everyone knows better than to comment.

You freeze at the doorway, suddenly shy, every part of you aware you should not be here.

You whisper up to Max, tugging at his sleeve, “Max, I…maybe I should wait outside. This is…”

He doesn’t even let you finish, his hand tightens on your waist, fingers pressing just enough to make you gasp softly.

“You’re staying.” Soft, but with absolute finality.

“Max… everyone’s staring.”

“They’ll stop.” He shoots a single look around the room, and the effect is instant. People glance away. Screens become very interesting. Water bottles are opened. Shoe laces suddenly need adjusting. No one dares to look at you for more than a second.

You whisper, “I don’t want to be a distraction.” He leans down, lips brushing your ear. The warmth of his breath makes your knees wobble.

“You’re not a distraction,” Max murmurs. “You’re mine.” It made your heart stops for a beat.

He walks you to a chair, his chair to be exact and he sat down first then pulls you gently so you sit down.

“Max-”

His legs bracket the sides of your thighs, knees framing yours. His presence wraps around you like a wall, protective, possessive, unyielding. You can feel the heat from his body against your back.

He places his hands on your shoulders, thumbs brushing your neck.

Christian clears his throat. “Max, are you..?”

“She stays” Max says simply.

Christian sighs. He knows better than to argue.

And there, the debrief starts.

Data on the screen. Tsunoda starts talking about corner entries. Christian comments on tire performance.

You don’t hear a word mainly because Max is touching you. His fingers stroke the back of your neck lazily, like a quiet reminder. Like a threat only you can feel. Like he’s saying, you do not move, you do not leave without speaking

Every time you shift nervously, his hands tighten just slightly.

“You okay?” he whispers so low only you hear it.

“Y-yes” you breathe.

“You’re shaking.”

“I’m just… nervous. Everyone’s watching.”

“No” he murmurs, his thumb brushing your throat gently. “They know better.”

You swallow. Hard. At one point, you try to sit forward to grab your water bottle.

His hand presses lightly on your shoulder, keeping you back against him.

“Stay still” he says. Your breath catches. You obey. You don’t even realize it until minutes later because

Your hand drifts toward your pocket, where your phone rests. Not to hide anything. Just to distract yourself but of course he sees

His fingers circle your wrist instantly. Not rough but firm, unmistakably firm.

“Don’t” he whispers behind you.

You stop and he leans in, lips brushing your hairline. “You don’t need to check anything while you’re with me.”

Your heart pounds so loud you’re sure the entire room can hear.

You whisper“Max… everyone is here.”

“So?” His lips almost touch the curve of your ear. “Let them see who you belong to.”

You close your eyes for a moment, breath unsteady, body warm.

This is too much. Too intense. Too possessive. But among all, too… familiar.

You get a flash, a feeling more than a memory…of being younger, of someone holding your wrist like this, of someone making a promise you don’t remember.

You shiver while Max’s hands immediately slide down your arms, holding you steady.

“What’s wrong?” he whispers.

“I… I don’t know.”

He presses his forehead to the back of your shoulder, hidden from view.

“You’re okay” he murmurs. “You’re with me.”

The debrief continues, but all you can feel is Max…his breath on your skin. His hands are claiming your body. His presence wrapped around you like a cage you don’t want to escape.

You’re the only person in the room who doesn’t belong there.

But Max makes it undeniable that you belong to him.

Yet again, you just don’t know why that matters so much…

-

Debrief comes to an end and the door closes behind the last engineer, leaving you and Max in the narrow hallway outside the debrief room.

You exhale, finally, your whole body uncoiling after sitting under the weight of his attention which was his hands, his voice, his control…for nearly an hour.

But Max hasn’t relaxed yet, he stands in front of you, blocking your path down the hallway, heat still radiating off him from FP2. His eyes are sharp, darker than usual, like something in him hasn’t switched off.

He doesn’t say anything at first. He just watches you too

“Max?” you whisper.

His jaw flexes and you know that damn look. It’s the look he gets when he’s about to say something he doesn’t trust himself to say.

“Why were you shaking?” he asks quietly. Not really gentle, not kind either. But demanding.

“I was nervous. They were all looking at me.”

“They didn’t look at you.” His voice drops lower. “I didn’t let them.”

You swallow, heat pooling behind your ribs. “Still” you say softly. “I felt like I… shouldn’t be there…”

Max steps closer so fast you stumble a little.

“You don’t decide that” he says.

You blink. “Max-”

“You don’t get to feel out of place,” he murmurs, leaning down, voice brushing your lips. “You’re mine. That puts you above all of them.”

Your breath catches. You’re used to Max being protective. Possessive. Intense.

Right now?He’s on another level. But there’s some feeling you realize, He’s… scared..?

You see it for half a second in his eyes…something fragile, panicked, buried deep under the anger. But you don’t understand it so you step back to steady yourself, and Max’s hand snaps to your waist instantly, like he thought you were pulling away entirely.

His fingers dig in, enough to make you gasp.

“Don’t” he says, softer but more threatening. “Don’t step away from me like that.”

You stare at him. And something cracks inside you…something small but sharp.

Because if you wanted to, if you really wanted to, you could make him chase you. Just like that. Without trying. The thought is frightening and intoxicating.

Max senses the shift in you instantly his eyes narrow instantly

“What is that?” he murmurs. “What was that look?”

“What look?” you say too quickly.

“That one.” He reaches up, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. “That look like you were about to run. Or tease. Or lie.”

“I wasn’t…”

“You’re doing it again.”

Your heart jumps not because he called you out, but because he’s right. You were thinking something bad, something playful, something not-so-innocent… and he caught it like he could read your pulse.

Max steps closer again, crowding you back against the wall. His hand slides up your waist, over your ribs, to your jaw, tilting your head so you have to look at him.

“You’re not innocent” he whispers.

The words hit you like a spark.

You freeze. “Max…”

“You think you are” he continues, voice low, “but you’re not. You look sweet. Soft. Innocent.” His thumb drags slowly over your lower lip.

“But you’re not.”

Your breath shakes. You don’t know why his words feel like deja vu like he said them before, somewhere far in your past.

He leans in, lips brushing your ear. “I know you better than you know yourself.”

A shiver rolls through your spine. But instead of shrinking away, something inside you… sharpens.

Your voice is quieter than you expect. “And how exactly do you know that?”

Max’s breath stops for half a second. He wasn’t expecting you to challenge him.

You see it, the flash in his eyes, a mix of surprise, interest, and something...bad

“Because I remember everything” he says.

You swallow. “Everything?”

Max nods once, slow. “Everything about you.”

Your throat tightens. “What if… I don’t?”

He goes still. Like you hit a bruise inside him you didn’t know existed. Still, his jaw tightens, and his voice comes out lower, rougher.

“You don’t” he says. “You’ve forgotten things you shouldn’t have.” A pause. “And I hate it.”

That shakes something inside you…a soft echo, like a memory you can’t grasp, a feeling of promising something when you were younger, something important, something binding.

You shake your head a little, overwhelmed. “Max, I’m trying…”

“No.” He presses his forehead to yours, breathing hard. “I’m trying. I’m trying not to lose you a second time.”

You freeze. A second time.

A second time?

Your heart thunders in your ears. “Max… what do you mean by that?”

He doesn’t answer immediately.

Instead, he cups your face with both hands, holding you like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he loosens his grip even a little.

Someone walks past the hallway. You can hear them slow down. You can feel them listening.

Max’s thumbs stroke your cheeks, grounding you, claiming you, anchoring you.

“I mean” he finally whispers, “you promised me once you wouldn’t leave.”

Your breath catches painfully. “And then you forgot.”

Your heart stops.

“Forgot what?” you whisper, voice shaking.

Max leans in, lips nearly touching yours, voice soft but aching “Forgot me.”

You can't breathe. You can't speak.

Something in your chest drops like a stone into deep water. Max’s hands tighten on your jaw.

“But I didn’t forget you,” he murmurs. “Not a second of you. Not ever.”

You shake your head slowly. “Max… I don’t remember-”

“I know” he says quietly. And this time? His voice breaks, just barely. “I’ve been waiting for you to remember on your own.”

He leans his forehead to yours again, eyes shut tight, like he’s holding himself together by force.

“And I’m losing my mind waiting.”

As you hear what he said, your breath suddenly trembles.

“Come” he murmurs, you two started walking and you didn’t notice how you smile softly, the kind of smile you don’t even realize is lethal. And Max’s entire body reacts. His grip tightens and his breath suddenly changes. Like you just hit a hidden switch inside him.

As you walk, you tug on his sleeve, just a tiny gesture, barely intentional. “Max… wait.”

He freezes like the command rewires him. You didn’t mean it as an order, you were just trying to get his attention but he turns instantly, eyes dark, focused entirely on you.

“What do you need, schat?” His voice lowers, obedient…ready…as if he’ll do anything you say.

And you blink at him, surprised. “I… I just wanted to walk slower” you says.

His entire expression changes, actually softens. He touches your cheek with his thumb.

“Then I’ll match your pace.”

Not too long, you reach the garage, and everything is chaotic again, mechanics, engineers, tire blankets, noise, the smell of rubber and heat getting clean up, Max wanted to say goodbye before you and him left.

You stand beside Max as he says goodbye, you’re just quiet, respectful, just scrolling your phone when one of the junior mechanics shyly steps toward you.

“Uh, y/n?” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just wanted to ask if you needed anything. Water? A seat? It’s a bit loud here…”

And before you can answer, Max turns so fast the mechanic flinches.

“What did you say?” Max’s voice is ice.

The garage falls silent.

“I…just asked if she-”

“No.” Max steps closer, too close.

“She doesn’t need anything from you.”

His arm slides around your waist, pulling you flush to him.

“If she wants something” Max says, eyes locked on the mechanic “she tells me. Not you.”

The poor guy swallows, nods, backing away. You whisper “Max… you’re scaring him.”

Max leans down, lips brushing the shell of your ear “Good.”

A shiver runs down your spine, because you shouldn’t like that. But you do.

When the mechanic fully retreats, Max pulls you deeper into the garage shadows, away from everyone’s eyes.

His back hits the wall, your body follows. “Why were you smiling at him?” he says softly.

Not angry, not shouting and that’s worse because it sounded cold and possessive. A blade of jealousy wrapped in silk if you were to call it

“I wasn’t” you defended. Though maybe you were…politely.

“You were.” His fingers curl under your chin, tilting it up. You’ve seen Max intense. Competitive and focused. But this? This is something really different. Something that comes from some pact you remember yet.

“You don’t look at anyone like that” he warns. “You only look at me.”

You swallow. “Max…”

He presses your back to the wall with his body, not hurting, just claiming as usual…

His hands cage your waist, firm, steering you exactly where he wants you.

“This is what happens when someone else thinks they can have your attention” he whispers.

“Max…people are watching” you breathe.

“Let them.” Your heart shouldn’t flutter. You shouldn’t feel heat curling in your stomach. You shouldn’t want him closer.

But your body betrays you.

You lean into his touch, just barely, just enough.

And Max sees it. “You like this” he whispers, as if discovering a secret. “You love me”

Your breath stutters. He moves closer, mouth ghosting your jaw. His voice is velvet and threatening at once. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

You can’t. And Max smiles…slow, dangerous, triumphant because he’s finally seeing something in you that you haven’t seen in yourself.

“You enjoy being mine,” he says. “And I’m never letting you go, schat.”

That’s the moment the power between you tilts. And you don't fully understand it yet…but it’s there.

-

You and him started walking again, his grip never loosens, even when security waves you both through. He walks fast, and tense like he’s afraid something or someone will pull you from him again.

You don’t ask where you’re going but part of you already knows.

The parking lot where his car was parked. He opened the passenger door and you went in, he quickly drove off.

And as the car starts moving, lights flicker across your vision…white, yellow, red and suddenly something inside you pulls tight, sharp, like a string snapping after being stretched for years. A bit of memory wanting to be remembered

Your head tilts slightly, a pulse behind your eyes. Max doesn’t notice yet but you sees grass, summer heat, boy’s hand gripping yours.

Your voice, younger, sweeter, trembling “Don’t leave me… okay? Even if I forget.”

A whisper.

A promise.

Two small hands clasping.

The boy’s voice answering “I won’t. Ever. I'll chase you to hell if I have too”

The memory dissolves like mist, you don’t know why…but your heart races like it recognizes something ancient.

His head snaps toward you immediately.

“What’s wrong?” His voice is too tight. Too protective. Too ready to break something if you say someone hurt you.

You swallow. “Nothing. I just… remembered something.”

His eyes harden but surprisingly not with anger but with recognition.

As if he remembers something too, something he won’t say yet.

“What kind of memory?” His hand slides to your thigh, possessive but gentle.

You shake your head. “It’s blurry.”

“Tell me if it ever becomes clear.” You don’t know why, but the way he says it feels like a warning.

He continues driving and as soon as you arrived, you see it, Max doesn’t take you to his own driver hotel.

He takes you to yours, your mansion-like suite overlooking the city.

And he walks in like he lives there. Like he belongs there. Like you put his name on the door

When the door clicks shut, the quiet feels heavier than the garage ever did.

Max drops his keys on your marble table then he turns to you slowly like a predator deciding how to approach its prey without scaring it away.

“Come here.”

You step toward him, slow.

And as soon as you went near him, he cups your jaw with one hand.

“Why did you smile at that junior mechanic?” dangerous, coming back to the mechanic again.

You should deny it, you should calm him down. You should say it meant nothing.

Instead…a strange boldness slips into your spine. Soft at first. Then sharper.

You tilt your head slightly then unknown to you, your lips formed a smirk, just a little.

“I didn’t think you would notice.”

Max freezes and you can see something hungry flickering in his eyes.

“What did you say?”

His grip on your jaw tightens, but not painfully, just grounding, anchoring.

You repeat softly, letting the words brush his anger like gasoline “I didn’t think you’d notice.”

His breath leaves him in a quiet exhale that sounds almost like a growl. “You’re doing it on purpose.”

His thumb drags across your lower lip. “You want me jealous.”

Heat floods your chest. You whisper “Maybe I do.”

He inhales sharply, eyes darkening to something you’ve never seen before.

He didn’t answer. He just looks at you like he’s finally seeing the part of you he’s been searching for, the part you didn’t know existed. Something you’re only now remembering.

And Max couldn’t help but smiles because he knows something you don’t.

-

The morning is soft. White curtains glow gold, the city hums quietly outside, and the hotel sheets are warm around Max’s still-sleeping body.

He’s sprawled on his stomach, face half buried in the pillow, arm thrown possessively across the empty half of the bed where you were minutes ago as if even in sleep he’s trying to keep you close.

You watch him for just a heartbeat longer, then slip out of bed and pad into the kitchen.

You just want coffee but the moment you press the espresso button, tthe sound triggers something.

A click or maybe a jolt.

A memory unlocked so sharply it steals your breath.

The full memory floods you and it doesn’t come slow. It hits like a wave breaking over your skull.

You’re little again. Knees scraped. Hands dirty from climbing trees.

A boy…Max, small, wide-eyed, shy, yet intense even at nine stands in front of you with a plastic ring from a gumball machine.

Your voice trembles with a fear you didn’t understand then but recognize now “You promise you won’t leave me?”

Your child-self grips his shirt.“Even if I forget? Even if I’m scared? You’ll stay?”

Max nods, jaw clenched with a seriousness far too big for his age.

“I’ll find you” he whispers. “I’ll stay. Always. Even if you forget… I won’t.”

Your smaller hands cup his cheeks. “Then I’ll stay with you too. Forever.”

Two children sealing a pact with ridiculous, terrifying sincerity.

Then little you leans forward and presses your forehead to his.

“Max… you’re mine.”

And little Max whispers, breathless “You’re mine too.”

The memory slams back into your chest, real and heavy and alive. You gasp, grabbing the coffee counter for stability.

Because now you know. This wasn’t new, definitely wasn’t sudden. This wasn't an obsession born in adulthood.

It was a promise, more like a pact. A bond you created first.

But you don’t tell Max. Not yet.

You inhale sharply, wipe the expression off your face, and force your pulse to slow. Max can’t know you remember. Not until you understand why he still acts like that promise was carved into him with a knife.

You slide your expression back into softness, the innocent one he’s used to and fix your hair before bringing both coffees to the bedroom.

As you walk back, you feel it,

Something…different, hot, curling up your spine.

But you don’t recognize it yet, and only then something inside you shifted.

Max is still asleep, lashes soft, mouth parted slightly.

He looks younger like this. Vulnerable.

Yours.

You set his coffee on the nightstand and sit beside him, brushing your fingers through his hair.

He stirs immediately, of course he does…he’s leaning into your touch like he’s been waiting for it even in sleep.

His eyes crack open, still rough with morning.

“Mm… come back to bed” he mutters, reaching for you.

You smile softly…the same dangerous one from yesterday that you still don’t know the power of.

But he does and that makes him freeze.

Completely.

His hand stops in midair, his breath catches. Like your smile is a leash around his throat.

You tilt your head just slightly. “No.” Not a command. Not a request, just a quiet, gentle decision.

And Max instantly doesn’t pull, doesn’t even insist, more importantly, he doesn’t argue.

He lowers his hand, watching you

And you…feel something warm spread in your chest at how effortlessly he responds to you.

You don’t know why he suddenly softens but to you, It just feels…right.

-

You get the coffee from the night stand and hand it to him.

“Sit up” you say gently.

He does, immediately.

You blink, surprised yourself.

By him, by how natural it feels to have him move at your words.

He takes the cup from your hands, fingers brushing yours, eyes on your lips, on your throat, back to your eyes. Searching and needing.

“You okay?” Max murmurs, voice rough.

“You look… different.”

Your heart jumps. You smile again…soft, perfect.

“Just tired” you lie. “Long night.” He exhales, relief easing his posture.

“Stay with me today” he says quietly. Not a question, probably a request wrapped in possession.

And without thinking, you step closer, tilt his chin up with two fingers.

A tiny gesture, so small but his pupils dilate immediately.

You don’t notice but he does.

“I’ll stay” you whisper. And Max’s breath shudders.

Because something in your tone…in your stance, in your calm control triggers a recognition in him.

Like he’s felt this version of you before, long ago.

“Good” he murmurs, pulling your waist gently until you sit on his lap.

But there’s something different now, something new. He’s holding you…but he’s watching you like you’re the one who might break him.

Inside, you feel the shift. Max reacts to you. Instinctively. Naturally.

And you realize you like it not intentionally.

But something in you begins to understand that maybe…

You’ve had more influence over him than you ever realized.

-

Later the day, still in your hotel suite, the morning softness has faded. The sunlight is brighter now, spilling across the marble floors, and Max is moving around your suite with the quiet, restless energy of someone who refuses to be away from you for even a moment.

He’s wearing a loose t-shirt, hair still messy from sleep, eyes following you everywhere. You’re standing by the window, scrolling your phone, and Max walks up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, chin on your shoulder.

“You’re not watching the race highlights with me” he murmurs.

A complaint and a pout, possession wrapped in a soft tone.

Normally, you’d melt. Normally, you’d lean into him.

But something in you remembers the instinctive control. So instead, you gently remove his hands from your waist.

Not harsh but intentional that made Max stop. He looks at you like you just pulled the ground out from under him.

And you turn, facing him slowly. “Not right now” you say softly.

He steps back.

Max Verstappen is suddenly the one reacting to you.

And you feel something warm in your stomach…

You did that..? You like doing that. You finally know you can do that.

You didn’t mean to smile but you do, a dangerous smile. And Max’s pupils dilate as if that smile hits a part of him

He steps forward again, slowly, studying your face.

“schat…” His voice drops an octave. And you feel it in your spine.

“What?” you ask, keeping your expression calm.

“You’re different today.” His eyes scan your face, almost desperate.

Your heart skips. He’s always felt you too deeply. Like he’s wired to your emotions.

But you force your breath to stay even. “No, Max” you lie softly. “I’m just… tired.”

He doesn’t believe you. Not for a second.

He moves closer, hands hovering at your hips, not touching…waiting. Like a man terrified you’ll pull away again.

“What did you remember?” he asks, voice low. You look up at him with practiced innocence.

“Nothing” you whisper. “Just a dream.”

Max inhales sharply. He’s not sure. He really wants to push. He want answers.

But you tilt your head slowly and give him that quiet, unreadable look that makes him obey without realizing why.

His shoulders drop there, he surrenders.

“Okay” he murmurs. You just controlled him again. Consciously.

Hours later, you’re finally in sofa with Max, sitting on the couch with your legs across Max’s lap.

He’s scrolling on his phone, but his free hand never leaves your thigh, thumb tracing absent circles.

Then someone texts you. Your phone vibrated though, you don’t check it immediately. You didn’t even move.

Max watches you. The version of you from before, the soft and sweet you would have reached for the phone instantly.

But now? You keep your gaze steady on the TV. And Max slowly puts his phone down.

“…You’re not going to check it?” he asks carefully.

You shrug slightly. “No.”

“Why?”

Your answer is simple, honest, effortless “Because you’re here.”

He stops breathing for a moment because you’re not being clingy or dependent

You’re being deliberately dismissive of everything but him.

And that touches a place inside Max he hasn’t felt in years. Not since you were kids. Not since the pact.

You don’t see the storm of emotion in his eyes. But you feel his hand on your thigh tighten.

“You’re…” He swallows hard. “You’re acting like you used to.”

“Like I used to?”

He nods slowly, never responding, he just looks at you like he’s seeing a ghost he’s been waiting to return.

He exhales shakily then finally lets out a word “You used to look at me like I was the only thing that mattered.”

You stare at him, heart stuttering. Because you’re starting to feel it, the truth of what he’s saying.

And then, you place your hand on his jaw.

Firm, possessive. A mirror of what he usually does to you.

Max goes absolutely still as his breath hitches. His eyes half close.

And then, a slow smile spreads on his lips.

A real one. Soft, relieved, almost worshipful.

“There you are…” he whispers. “I’ve missed you.”

Your heart flips. Because you don’t even know who this girl is

But Max does. And he’s finally seeing that girl come back.

-

It’s been three days and Max slowly noticed the shift.

He’s currently in the bathroom, taking a shower to get ready for media day and his phone vibrated.

His phone is locked but you used your face to unlock it. It worked.

You checked tbe messages And one of them…one tiny, harmless, nothing notification really but it’s from a woman in hospitality asking about his arrival time later.

Your brain does something new, not really dramatic, not too explosive.

Just normal. A silent, sweet little thought “He’s mine.”

You take the phone and swipe the notification away, open his messages.

Deleted her contact, calm as if everything is normal, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Then you slip his phone back exactly where it was. Your heart isn’t racing. It actually feels good.

Right.

It feels damn good.

“Mm…schat?” Max’s voice is thick, heavy after shower. He reaches for you, pulling himself up on his elbows, hair damp, eyes warm until he sees your face.

Soft smile but something behind your eyes is different and he knows that look. He sits beside you, breath catching for half a second.

“You remembered” he whispers.

You freeze just enough to make him doubt himself… but your eyes… they betray you. That childhood oath. That whispered promise in the dark.

“We keep each other. No matter what. Even if it breaks something.”

You don’t answer. You take a slow sip of coffee instead.

He watches the movement like it’s a threat and a prayer. “Don’t lie to me” he says softly, almost begging.

Your lips curl…not innocent, not sweet.

“You’re imagining things, Max.” His pulse jumps and that’s when he knows.

You’re back.

He reaches for the coffee you made for him, but you pull it back, just slightly.

Not enough to be rude. Just enough to show him you decide when he gets things.

And his eyes widened, not because you stopped him. But because of the look you give him when you do it… a slow, deliberate tilt of your head, a smile that is almost tender but absolutely not submissive.

“Say please” you say. Max goes still, completely, utterly still. Because that’s his line. His way of controlling you. His tool.

And now you’re using it on him with calm, confident, sweetly dangerous.

“schat…please?” His voice cracks with something primal.

You hand him the cup only after he obeys…quietly, breathlessly.

For the first time, Max looks like the one who might get ruined. And he likes it.

Too much.

He starts drinking the coffee when his phone vibrates and lits up again.

The same woman. A harmless work question. But this time you don’t delete it. You take the phone.

Look at the notification and then look at him.

And you raise one eyebrow.

Max swallows hard. “schat… it’s just work.”

Your smile is soft. Beautiful. Absolutely terrifying.

“I know” you say sweetly.

“But I don’t want her messaging you.” There’s no shouting, no drama. Just a simple truth. Surprisingly, he doesn’t even fight it.

“Okay” he breathes. “she won’t.”

You hand him back the phone like you’re granting him permission to have it.

He stares at you like you’re a miracle and a fire. “You really remembered” he whispers again.

You lean in, kiss his jaw slowly. “No” you murmur against his skin. “I’m still remembering.”

Max shivers because he knows damn well this is only the beginning.

-

Race day. The moment it all snaps into place. The moment Max finally felt relief that you were finally back.

It was loud as usual, chaotic and crowded. But the moment you step out of the car and fix your sunglasses, people move out of your way without understanding why.

You don’t walk behind Max anymore, you don’t even walk beside him. You walk ahead, and he follows you.

Not because you tell him to, but because you look like someone who expects the world to rearrange itself around your path.

Max keeps close behind you, head lowered slightly, fingers brushing your back like he’s waiting for permission to touch you.

And the paddock stares.

Because in the last race, Max was the one acting like possessed

Today, there's something in your posture…smooth, calm, claiming…that makes even Max seem obedient.

Like the balance is shifting back to its original place.

You reach the red bull and engineers stop talking when you enter.

You don’t hide behind Max, you don’t shrink or stay small. You step into his space like it’s yours.

You stand behind his seat during engineering brief, one hand idly playing with the ends of his hair, completely unaware of how intimate, how claiming, how visceral it looks.

And Max…he melts.

You can feel it, how he softens under your touch, how his breathing slows, how he doesn’t just want you there…

He needs you there. He looks up at you once, eyes wide, pupils blown.

And you see it click for him. This isn’t new. This is who you used to be.

And he loved it, he missed this.

During the lull before the race, Max sits on the barrier wall in the rear of the garage.

You stand between his legs, fixing his suit collar, smoothing the fabric like it belongs under your hands.

And then, a memory slams into him.

You. At thirteen.bHolding his face between your palms. Voice soft and sweet and manipulating. “You’re mine, Max. Stay with me. I’ll keep you.”

You. Whispering to him after he cried from a nightmare “I’ll shape you into someone who only looks at me. I'll kill you if you leave me”

You. Smiling that same soft smile you’re giving him now. He sucks in a breath so sharp it almost hurts. He grabs your wrist, not rough, not dominant, but urgent. “I missed you.” he whispers.

Your thumb brushes his cheek. “I know” you say softly.

His entire world tilts.

He leans forward like he wants to kiss you, bury himself in you, hide in you..but you put a hand on his chest, stopping him.

Max freezes like a trained animal waiting for a command. Not frightened but conditioned.

You lean close to his ear.

“Focus on your race” you whisper. “I don’t want you crashing because you’re too desperate to touch me.”

Max’s breath stutters. “Yes… okay… okay” he murmurs, nodding, eyes lowering, obedient in a way that would terrify anyone watching.

But for you, It feels like coming home.

A PR girl approaches him, tentative, clipboard in hand.

“Max, the pre-grid interview with-” You step between them before Max can answer.

Not rude, not loud. Just placing your body where she can’t see him.

“He’s busy” you say simply.

And Max, the four time World Champion, the one who snaps at journalists, the one who hates being told what to do just stands behind you quietly, like this is the natural order of things.

The PR girl nods too quickly and scurries away.

You turn to Max, his eyes are dark. Awed, shaken maybe and completely yours.

“My schat is back…” he whispers, voice hoarse.

You just smiled

As the Race starts, the grid is already in chaos, engines screaming and cameras everywhere

But Max barely focused on the race. He only thinks about you.

Like he finally remembered how it all started.

You were the beginning.

You made him. You shaped him.

Your darkness lit his.

You taught him obsession, possession, devotion. He was yours long before he ever knew he owned you back.

And he became what you built and for the moment, you forgot you built him.

But now that you remember, you choose him again.

Not out of innocence but out of the same darkness you planted in him long ago

Fin.

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