Meet The Heffley’s

Dark! Napoleon Bonaparte x Reader

You are Marie Antoinette and Louis XVI's daughter who was sent away before getting captured or beheaded like your family.

Honestly, you wanted to forget about everything that happened, and move on.

However, that unfortunately was impossible especially when Napoleon Bonaparte became the emperor of France.

Napoleon invited you to come back to court, assuring that you will be safe under his protection.

You hesitantly agree, praying that it's not a trap.

And surprisingly, it wasn't, Napoleon received you in his court with a smile and open arms, not caring about the opinions of others about that matter.

The reason for Napoleon's passion towards you is because he saw a painting of you and immediately became obsessed.

When you found out that the French emperor plans on making you his mistress.

You planned to escape, not wanting to be put in a scandalous position.

However, during your escape in the middle of the night, trying to leave the palace with your servants.

You didn't expect to see Napoleon waiting for you at the exit with his soldiers.

He only smiles at you upon seeing your frightened expression.

"I do not remember giving you permission to leave, my dear"

FWB!Soap x InloveFem!Reader.

+18 content warning

FWB!Soap who claims to not feel romantic feelings for you, saying that he sees you as a friend and values your friendship too much to try and have a serious relationship with you. It's meaningless sex at the end of the day (at least to him), just using each other to not spend the night alone.

FWB!Soap spends most of his paid leave in your bedroom, secluded from the friends he claims to have apart from you, fucking you in every position he can manhandle your body into, your legs over his shoulder, pulling you by your arms so you don’t fall in while he fucks you standing doggy.

FWB!Soap really likes to spend his free time with his cock buried in one of your three holes, making you sob from pleasure and pain while he gets off by the way tears run down your eyes, overstimulated and spent yet still letting him do whatever he wants with you, a true sweetheart you are.

FWB!Soap who would rather kill every man that tries to court you than find another person to fuck while not being in a serious relationship, he values you too much to let another man have you (but he doesn’t love you, right?) so it’s a back and forth between talking you into not going on dates, threatening guys who approach you when you are out with him and as a last resort, talking shit about you behind your back to them when you invite them to your shared apartment. warning them about how crazy you get when you enter a relationship (you are a fucking angel, soap knows that but he doesn’t want other guys to know)

FWB!Soap who thinks he is the only one allowed to fuck other people, going out to clubs and fucking girls in a dark alleyway, (he would never bring them to your apartment) the smells of a woman’s perfume lingering on his shirt and the hickeys on his neck a clear evidence that he went and fuck someone who isn’t you. it hurts when he does it, he knows how much it breaks your heart, he has listened to you sob at night more times than he can count every time he has returned with hickeys and lipstick stains.

FWB!Soap who after he hears you crying because of him tries to cheer you up, buying you gifts of your special interest or hobbies. inviting you to eat dinner at the fancy restaurant you don’t go to often because of the high prices. and he treats you wonderfully, princess treatment to its max extent, doing everything he can to soothe the ache in your heart from knowing he fucks other girls even though you’re not a couple.

FWB!Soap who is aware of the vicious cycle he trapped himself in, fucking you for days straight, going out and fucking another girl, listening to you cry when you see the hickeys, and doing everything he can to make you feel better, hating how much he hurts you without meaning to before repeating it all again.

FWB!Soap gets undeniably scared at times, fearing you will get tired of him and his actions. he knows what he is doing is wrong but is so fucking hard for him to be in a committed relationship being constantly deployed to different countries. he tried it once and it didn’t work out, so why try again? He has you after all, and being friends with benefits fills his basic needs for the most part.

FWB!Soap is so painfully oblivious to the signals he and you give. Of course, he holds your hand when you're out in public because you get lost easily, walks closer to the street because is safer for you, stands behind you so creeps don’t look at your ass, kisses your forehead every once in a while when he’s talking to someone so you know he isn’t ignoring you.

FWB!Soap does the absolute max to be a good “friend” to you and make you feel loved since being friends with benefits with him makes it impossible for you to get a boyfriend. he knows he’s compensating you for the pain he causes you, and trust him, he does love you but he doesn’t love you. (that’s what he tells himself)

FWB!Soap who after speaking to Ghost and feels nothing short of a piece of shit for the dynamic of your situationship. “you’re going to lose her, Johnny” Simon oh so generously said to him after hearing Soap rant for almost 20 minutes about how he had taken you out to eat because he felt guilty for making you cry once again. (he is a piece of shit to the core)

FWB!Soap comes home after being deployed for almost three weeks only to see a man in your apartment, sitting on the couch like he owns the place while you come out for the kitchen with a bowl full of popcorn, surprised to see Soap standing at the door, not expecting he would be back so soon but happy regardless of his arrival.

“Johnny!” you high pitch squeal fills his ears and he feels hot from anger and joy, he lets you jump on his arms, hugging him the best you can with the height difference, his gear still on, a gun tucked on his belt holster while he hugs you back, staring darkly at the guy on the couch he is already planning how to kill. “hi bonnie” he answers a few seconds later, pulling away from the hug, his hands on your hips so you can’t move away, claiming possession of you to the man sitting not even 10 feet away from him.

He knows he shouldn’t be selfish and let you move on from him, but he is a new man after speaking to Ghost. He swears by it. He knows he loves you, he knows he wants a future with you so why don’t you wait for him just a little bit longer, why jump at the first opportunity you had to find another man? He had never brought any woman home, so why did you bring someone? you’re not playing fair, at least not by the game he put you in forcefully.

And he feels murderous, truly psychotic but doesn’t act on it, no. He would never subject you to that side of him, instead he decided to play just as dirty as you had done. “Why don’t you tell me who's your friend, Bonnie, aye?” he asks, manhandling you softly so you turn around to face the man on the couch who is awfully quiet. Soap guides you, making you walk forward, his hands not leaving your hips.

“he’s Matt, he’s one of my brother's friends” Your sweet voice rings he’s ears and for a moment he thinks that maybe this isn’t a date then, that maybe your brother’s friend just decided to visit you but Soap isn’t that fucking dumb, not when it comes to see the intentions guys have with you. “Matt, this is Johnny my…friend” you add a few seconds later, hesitating on what to call Soap, because sure, you are friends, but you also fuck, cuddle and go out on dates that neither of you ever actually called dates but the implication is there, all that is lacking is the title soap refuses to give to everything he does with you and to you.

you rather not be here in this situation, knowing how soap can get when you meet up with friends he doesn’t know about, and he wasn't even meant to come home today, not even this week and you had questions as to why he had returned so early but it wasn’t the right moment to ask, not with how fucking serious soap sounded (he is never serious around you)

“figured that one out quickly, love” Matt responds, a chuckle leaving his lips even though to Soap nothing was fucking funny right now, quite the opposite but he decides to play along with the clear joke of a man you let into your home. he does want to ripe his throat off because he called you Love and he might as well just do it (when you aren’t present of course.)

Soap sets one of his hands on his gun, moving to stand beside you so the guy can see he’s armed and isn’t afraid to kill him, he had his hands stained with people’s blood, what’s another life to take, everything for you, anything for you. defending an ownership of you he didn’t have.

“don’t mean to kick ya out mate but I rather you go, need to talk to my girl, aye?” Soap says, trying to be polite but he doesn’t give a shit if it comes out as him kicking Matt out, he is kicking him out after all, just with much kinder words for your well-being, not because he respects or wants to be him to the piece of shit on your couch.

And you caught onto Soap truly meant quickly, but it’s all overpowered by the fact he called you his girl, his fucking girl. and you know that with him you shouldn’t get your hopes high no matter how much he sweet talks you and calls you his, he’s done it before and not held up to the name he gave you.

FWB!Soap is a complicated mess when it comes to feelings and showing you how much he loves you because he truly doesn’t do well in relationships and doesn't want to break your heart. God knows how much he hates to see you hurting because of him. But maybe tonight he can’t stop caring for a few hours, just enough time to get rid of that stupid friend of yours and make sure he doesn’t ever appear in your life again, you don’t want a guy like him around, one who doesn’t respect Soap as your lover even though he isn’t.

FWB!Soap really hates breaking your heart, but he acts upon what’s best for you and your tears are a price worth paying so you can live your best life. The death of Matt shouldn’t come as a shock to you, but it does. Because although you know what Soap is capable of, you don’t expect him to just kill someone because they were interested in you and didn't shy away from trying and taking you away from him.

FWB!Soap who realizes that it’s time to make you his, because even though he doesn’t mind killing people to make you his, still is a fucking difficult job to find ways to dispose of the bodies without leaving evidence of his doing.

Boyfriend!Soap who ends up killing a few more people once he already made you his girlfriend but gladly does so when men come too close to you and are too bold and actually threaten your relationship with Soap. Maybe he should move you to a small city in Scotland, marry you, and give you a kid so you’re too busy being devoted to your family to ever notice how there are better men than Soap interested in you.

➳ the set up — rafe cameron

no bc this gif was perfect for this :3

ᡣ𐭩 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: rafe cameron x virgin!reader

ᡣ𐭩 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 2.9k

ᡣ𐭩 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: MDNI, smut, p in v, unprotected sex (reader is on birth control), mentions of fem!masturbation, mentions of vomit, uses of c word (you’ll never read my smut that doesn’t have it lmao), loss of v-card, cussing, soft!rafe (w/reader only, duh ;)), mentions of being a prude (reader basically calls herself that), let me know if i forgot any!

ᡣ𐭩 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: based on this ask!

ᡣ𐭩 𝐀/𝐍: i swear this sucks, i hope you guys like it 😖 i’m sorry this took me so long!

your body laid on the tanning chair, the blazing heat of the sun making your skin ignite. today was the hottest day outer banks had had in years. the heatwave was forcing several people indoors, except you and sarah. the two of you found this as the perfect opportunity to fill up the pool a bit with cold hose water and swim to your hearts content.

but eventually the heat caught up to you and you were miserable now. the water wasn't even helping and you were far past the point of tanning. you were going to fry like a lobster had you sat out here any longer.

"sarah, i'm going in," you groaned, pushing off the chair and standing up. your body tingles, your vision seeing black for a moment. fuck, it is way too hot out here.

"yeah, i'm right behind you," she yawns from her tanning chair. standing up lazily and following you into the nice, cool air conditioned home.

"phew!" you say happily, the cold air hitting your skin felt like absolutely heaven. sarah closes the door behind her, her eyes hooded and lazy. the two of you walk into the kitchen, where you meet kelce and rafe standing around the island with waters in their hands.

"hello, boys," you smile happily at them, reaching across the island and grabbing a piece of candy from the bowl. popping it into your mouth, you look at rafe who's already looking at you... worriedly?

"what? what's wrong?" you question, knitting your brows as you stare at him in confusion.

"are you like... okay?" he asks, taking in your slightly sunburnt features. across your nose and the tops of your cheeks were red as well as your shoulders.

"why do you care?" sarah sneers, shutting the fridge with a gatorade in hand. you look at her before looking back at rafe.

"fuck off, sarah," rafe rolls his eyes shaking his head in annoyance. you snort at his attitude shaking your head as you turn your attention back to sarah.

"i'm going up to my room. meet me up there," she says before walking off and disappearing up the stairs. kelce looks at rafe and nods, walking away without saying another word. what the fuck?

"we have some aloe vera in the fridge, you want me to grab you some?" rafe asks softly, pointing to the fridge.

"that would be lovely," you sighed, resting your elbows on the counter, your chin in your hands. rafe walks over to the fridge and grabs out the clear bottle that displayed the green liquid. he sets it down on the counter and slides it over to you. you thank him and pick up the bottle, pouring a generous amount into your hands and spreading the cooling liquid across your cheeks and shoulders. thanking rafe, you hand him the bottle back and sulk upstairs to spend the rest of the evening with sarah.

sarah and you eventually took a nap, the sun had gotten the best of you. you both awoke from the nap closer to seven, turning on some movies on sarah's tv and trying to ignore your burning sunburns.

rafe had gotten up from his nap as well, walking to the bathroom when he heard you and sarah talking in her room, her door cracked open. normally, he'd ignore girl chatter or drama, but two words caught his attention. jj, and virginity, all in one sentence. one same fucking sentence.

"seriously, i think jj would be the perfect person for you to lose your virginity to! he's so sweet and caring, he'd take good care of you!" sarah chirps. she had lost her virginity to john b which left you, embarrassingly so. you weren't opposed to losing your virginity to jj, you just didn't want it to feel like some charity case.

rafe stood outside the door, brows furrow in anger. she was trying to set you up to lose your virginity to some dirty pogue? he couldn't believe you were even on board with the idea... what he would do would bust down this door and scold the two of you for the ludicrous idea. but he had a better idea instead. retreating back into his room, he planned exactly how he was going to do this.

11 p.m. had rolled around and you were struggling to fall asleep. sarah was passed out as of 20 minutes ago, but you lay there staring at the ceiling, blinking. it was the damn nap you took earlier that's got your sleep schedule all fucked up now.

suddenly, sarah’s door opened slowly. your breathing caught in your throat, your entire body tensing as you watching a figure slowly and sneakily walk into sarah's room. you debated screaming for help and waiting to see who the hell was trying to sneak into sarah's room. but as the figure emerged further into the room, the moonlight from sarah's window casted over the persons face.

"rafe?" you whisper shout. he puts a finger to his lips, shushing you. you look at him confused and still coming down from adrenaline. he motions for you to come with him and now you're really confused... and scared. you quietly crawl out of sarah's bed, tiptoeing out the door and into the hall with rafe. you shut sarah's door quietly, following rafe into the privacy of his own room.

once you're in his room, he turns to you, biting his fingernail anxiously. "close the door," he mumbles, looking up at the door. you are even more confused now. confused and terrified, why did he want you to shut the door?

"if i shut the door will you tell me what this is about?" you ask. he nods and you sigh, turning around and shutting his door all the way. you turn back to him, your heart racing.

"are you really going to lose your virginity to jj?" he asks, his blue eyes stare into yours. oh he's serious?

"my God, rafe! that's what this is about?" you walk up to him and shove him back. he stumbles for a moment but easily regains balance, continuing to eye you down.  how dare he? he had the audacity to not only spy on you and sarah, but coming into her room like a serial killer and demand you come with him?

"yeah," he nods his head, his voice laced with attitude. "that's what this is about,"

"rafe, this is none of your business," you shake your head, crossing your arms. he rolls his eyes, which only makes you want to shove him again.

"yes it is, actually," he shrugs.

"oh really? how?" you test, your jaw clenching with anger.

"lose your virginity to me," the words knock the wind out of you. your mind dizzy, your body feeling fuzzy and lightheaded. what did he just say? did he just say what you think he said?

"w-what?" you stare at him, completely shocked. why would he want you to lose your virginity to him?

"you heard me. lose your virginity to me," he steps closer, your throat closing and you're not sure if you could continue this conversation. this felt so forbidden, you now worried sarah would randomly wake up and somehow find you in here... having a loss of virginity talk with her older brother.

"why would i do that?" you ask.

"why not? you've known me since you were in grade school. i'm trustworthy and you're a lot more comfortable with me than jj," rafe states, and he's not wrong... about any of it. losing your virginity to rafe would be ideal in the sense that you've known him so long and your comfortable with him... but it would also be terrible because this is your best friends older brother. her annoying, douchebag older brother, though he wasn't much of a douche to you.

"rafe, i-" but he cuts you off, eyes narrowing on your lips.

"kiss me, and then you can decide if jj is the better option," he smirks. oof he's even cockier than you thought... you don't think that was even possible. what? one kiss and you'll be hooked? is that what he's trying to say?

"rafe, i'm not-," you put your hand out, shaking your head as you back up.

"just kiss me, damnit," he walks up to you, closing all space between the two of you, his lips pressing to yours desperately. his hands tangle in your hair, earning a moan from you. fuck, he's good. he smiles into the kiss, knowing he had you right where he wanted you.

his tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring your mouth, tongue running softly along your bottom lip. your arms wrapped around his neck, standing on your tip toes to deepen the kiss. rafe’s hands take a fistful of hair and squeeze earning another guttural moan from you. fuck you were so hot, he thought. fuck, he’s so hot, you thought.

rafe pulls away after a few moments, resting his forehead on yours, both of you panting from that kiss, “you’re sure you’re okay with this?" he asks, his thumb stroking your sunburnt cheek softly. you bit your lip anxiously, nodding.

"then lie down," he instructs gently, motioning to the bed. you pulled away from his strong, tall torso, slowly walking to the bed. you were anxious about this... it was your first time obviously and you had no clue how it would go... awkward? painful? terrible in general?

as you laid down, rafe slipped off his sweatpants and boxers, leaving them in a heap on the floor. your eyes widened the moment you saw his cock spring free. no, no fucking way. that is not fitting in your vagina. he was thick, and long... something sarah mentioned was the perfect combination but now here it was in front of you and you were terrified. this was going to hurt.

rafe, not noticing your distressed state, crawled on the bed, hovering over you. it was then he noticed the scared look on your face. "what's wrong?" he asks brows furrowed.

"rafe, that's not going to fit!" you exclaimed, which only earned laughter from him. he was laughing? really?

rafe tried to hide his laughter by burying his face into your neck but you already knew, and you weren't happy, why was he laughing?

"what's so funny?" you whined, shoving him.

"i'm sorry baby, it's not funny," he shakes his head trying to cease the laughter and red face. attempting to keep a straight face. he continues, "you're just cute," he smiles. you cross your arms, pouting.

"oh, c'mon, don't be like that," he says, pulling your arms away from your chest. "let me make you feel good,"

his words turned you on and despite him laughing at your "cuteness" *eyeroll* you were lucky to have rafe here right now instead of anyone else.

"you're on birth control?" he clarifies, and you nod. he wraps his fingers around the waistband of your sweatpants and pulls them down along with your thong. tossing the clothing on the floor next to his, he stares at your pink pussy in awe.

"what? what's wrong?" now it had become your turn to ask what the heck was going on in his head.

"so pretty," he murmurs, his finger grazing along your folds. the action causes you to shudder, biting your lip harshly. you had never been touched by anyone else either. it has always been you doing it.

rafe looks back up at you, leaning down and pressing a long kiss to your lips. your heart was beating out of your chest, your mouth dry and mind fuzzy. what would this mean? once you lose your virginity to rafe, what does this mean for you two? what about you and sarah? would she never speak to you again?

"hey," rafe's voice catches you attention, your eyes snapping back to. "don't overthink, it's gonna be okay," he nods reassuringly. how did he know you so well?

you nod, and allow for him to continue. he scoots up a little further and nudges your legs apart. your breathing became heavier as he lined his cock  up at your entrance. he looks at you again, his eyes told you he wanted to fuck you senselessly, but that he wouldn’t.

"are you ready?" he whispered, his cool breath fanning across your face and making you shiver. you weren’t ready, but you also knew that if you walked out of here right now, you’d never be ready, the anxiety in the moment was overwhelming. you felt sick, thrilled, scared, you had a rush of so many emotions and they all spanned within just a few moments,

pushing all feelings aside, you nodded for rafe to continue, praying you don’t throw up all over him. your heart beat against your ribs, and you were positive rafe could hear how loud it was.

rafe looks down, admiring one last time how your virgin cunt looked. he watched between your bodies, the way his cock lined up as he pushed in gently. he looked up at you immediately for permission to continue. your face was scrunched up, your eyebrows furrowed deeply as you concentrated on the newfound feeling. you opened your eyes to look at him, his face was sweet, you knew he wouldn’t do anything to make you uncomfortable or hurt you.

“go,” you nod approval, rafe’s head dipping back down to watch as he pushes his cock in further, continuing to push in until you either stopped him, or he couldn’t fit anymore. you clutched onto his shoulders, whimpering out as your cunt stretched to accommodate him. tears welling in your eyes, you gasped.

rafe peppered kisses all over your body in attempt to calm you down and ease you more into it. he was having a hard time keeping his composure with how tightly your cunt was squeezing him. he was about to bust even without moving.

“rafe,” you breathed out, your fingers moving from his shoulders and entangling in his hair. his blue eyes opened, narrowing on your own eyes. “move, please,” you urge him, needing to feel something more than the constantly stinging of him stretching your walls. he nods, leaning in to capture your soft lips in another kiss, his nose brushing against yours.

rafe pulls out a little, slowly pushing back in. your arm wraps around his back, nails digging into his back as you whine into the kiss. rafe pulls away, groaning.

“i’m not going to last long, not with the way you’re squeezin’ me,” he murmured, looking down to where your bodies connect. something about his words ignited a fire in you, your walls clenching around in arousal.

“f-fuck,” he groaned, falling down and burying his head into your neck. as he continued to thrust into your aching hole, you felt your body becoming overwhelmed, your stomach tightening at the feeling of your orgasm approaching.

“rafe,” you warned him.

“yep, i’m right there baby,” he moaned, holding his breath as you clenched unbelievably tight around his thick cock. which you were still surprised had even fit.

you moaned into rafe’s ear and that sent him over the edge. the sound of you being pleasured by him, the fact that he took your virginity just now, everything about this intimate moment had his cum shooting deep inside your puffy cunt. his thrusts got sloppy and longer, fucking the rest of his cum into you as you came hard around his cock. your fingernails dug into his back, crescent shaped marks indenting his back as you came harder than you ever have. fuck, you thought masturbation orgasms were nice. but this orgasm had you seeing stars. what a fucking prude you were.

the sounds of both of you panting had filled the room, rafe still on top of you and inside you. you kept your arms wrapped loosely around his back, keeping him close to you as you closed your eyes, relishing in everything that just happened.

slowly, rafe peeled his body away from you, pulling his shaft out at the same time. you winced at the stinging pain again, rafe apologizing as he continued to pull out. he plopped down beside you on the bed, immediately pulling you into him.

“how was it?” he asked, still breathing heavily. you snuggled further into his chest, your hand resting on his toned abs.

“perfect,” you smiled, thinking back to it again. this was probably something that would replay in your mind in a never ending loop.

“yeah?” he smiled, kissing your head. you nodded again, watching your fingers trace shapes on his abdomen. you were still confused as to how things would go from here. would you and rafe never speak of this again? act like nothing happened? would you two end up together, maybe only become friends with benefits? the anxiety of what next was beginning to stress you out, so you pushed them aside for now, feeling your eyes growing tired.

“i’m too tired and sore to walk back to sarah’s room,” you groaned, earning a chuckle from rafe. he pulled you in tightly for a side hug, “just go to sleep. i’ll carry you back in there later,” he said quietly, kissing your head as you closed your eyes and dreamed of your first time with rafe… again.

🏷️ @jjmaybankisbae @drewstarkeysbae @f4ll-for-you @angelofcigs @spookyscaryspoon

❛ 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄 ❜ p2 . . . charlie mayhew

INNOCENT!reader x PRIEST!charlie 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

PART 1

SUMMARY, after ignoring charlie for a week after the incident, he finally gets her close in the bathroom.

A/N, sorry i took way too long to make a p2. if you want a p3, leave some recommendations of what i should do for that part in my inbox bc i have no idea how to keep it going 😂 anyways, have fun reading, angels. 🪽🪽

WARNINGS, smuttyyyyy

Charlie had noticed the change immediately after their last conversation—the one where Maddy had admitted, with a tremble in her voice, that she had thought about him in ways she knew weren’t right. He had been shocked, then flattered, and finally, filled with guilt after everything. But what troubled him the most was her absence.

For a whole week, Maddy hadn’t spoken to him. She didn’t show up at mass, didn’t linger after church like she usually did. Every time he tried to reach out, she brushed him off with curt messages or avoided him entirely. She wasn’t just distant—she was actively ignoring him.

At first, Charlie tried to give her space, assuming that she needed time to process what had happened between them. But as the days passed, his concern grew. The gnawing guilt inside him—the feeling that maybe he had crossed a line, that maybe he had hurt her more than he realized—began to fester.

It wasn’t until late one evening, after most of the congregation had already left, that Charlie spotted her. Maddy, rushing down the hallway, her face flushed, disappeared into the restroom. The church was quiet, the echoes of footsteps fading, and Charlie hesitated for a moment before following her.

He knocked softly on the bathroom door. “Maddy?”

There was no response, but he heard a faint sniffle, the kind that comes after holding back tears for too long. Charlie’s heart clenched. He hesitated, not wanting to invade her space, but the sound of her pain pushed him forward.

“Maddy, please talk to me,” he said gently. “I know you’ve been avoiding me, but I can’t help you if you shut me out.”

There was a long pause, and then the door cracked open. Maddy stood there, her eyes red and puffy, but there was something hardened in her expression. She looked exhausted—not just physically, but emotionally.

“Why do you care so much, Charlie?” she asked, her voice thick with frustration and hurt. “I’m trying to keep my distance, like I’m supposed to. Isn’t that what you want?”

Charlie frowned, stepping closer. “What I want is to understand why you’ve been avoiding me. After everything we talked about, I thought we could work through this together, but you’ve been shutting me out completely.”

Maddy let out a bitter laugh, wiping at her eyes. “Work through this? Charlie, you don’t get it. I’m embarrassed. I told you something I never should have said, something unholy, we did something for which I will never be forgiven. And every time I look at you, I see the judgment in your eyes.”

Charlie’s breath caught in his throat, realizing the depth of her shame. “Maddy, no,” he said, stepping toward her, his voice softening. “There’s no judgment. I promise you that.”

“Then why does it feel like there’s a wall between us now?” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Why did it feel like I crossed a line that I can’t uncross?”

Charlie closed his eyes, fighting the turmoil in his chest. He had wrestled with his own guilt all week, and now hearing hers, it was clear they were both lost in their own pain. He opened his eyes and met hers, his gaze steady.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he said softly. “What you told me… it was honest. I do not regret what we did together, i am not ashamed of it.”

She looked at him for a long moment, her eyes searching his face for any hint of dishonesty. When she didn’t find it, she exhaled slowly, some of the tension leaving her shoulders.

“So, why does it matter so much, Charlie? Why did we both make it feel like the end of the world?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Charlie ran a hand through his hair, taking a breath. “Because it’s hard, Maddy. It’s hard to admit that something’s there, something we both feel but can’t have. It’s hard because I want to help you through this, but I also… I’m fighting the same thoughts, the same distractions.” His confession hung in the air between them, heavy and real.

Maddy’s breath hitched, her eyes widening slightly. “You mean…?”

Charlie nodded, looking down. “I’m not immune to this. But I’m trying to stay strong for both of us. And ignoring me won’t make it go away. We have to figure out how to deal with this together.”

Maddy wiped at her eyes again, this time with less urgency, as if the weight of their shared secret had lightened slightly. “I don’t know how to make it stop,” she admitted, her voice small.

“Neither do I,” Charlie said quietly. “But I can help you, Angel.”

He stepped closer to her, trapping her exit from the restroom. His fingers interlocks with her hair as he pulls a strand behind her ear and grabbed her face and pulled her closer. “Tell me you don’t regret it, please” he says eagerly as he places his forehead on hers.

“Just Let me worship you”

Her head spins from the thousands of negative possibilities but her body just wants to surrender to him.

Without kissing her, he trailed his lips up her curve and exhaled till the heat tingled sensuously across her delicate skin. She closed her eyes, sensing his hands running up her sides over her white button-up blouse. He clasped his hands over the cloth, tracing a line up her hips and down the sides of her chest before finishing at the collar of the weightless material.

He made two hard fists out of the blouse collar and tore it open causing her to gasp in shock as the shirt split open to reveal her white lacy bra.

He turned to face her and grabbed her hips once again, the moment the door was locked. Before her thoughts could register, his lips dropped hungrily to her neck and her back collided with the wall. He brushed his teeth on her flesh right away, pressing his body against her while groaning.

Her hands instinctively gripped his hips, tossing her head to one side. They kissed for a long time, his sensual lips breathing heavily into her neck in between, making her eyes drift close. He thrust forward, bringing his hips to meet hers, offering whatever kind of pleasure he could. Her hands clenched around his hips over his pants, and she let out a sigh of pleasure.His hands trailed down her nude thighs, extending to her behind to seize it above the dress. He pulls her hips against his harder.

"I can't wait to take this dress off you." He graveled.

His words cause her core to ache and she arched her back further off the wall to feel his body against her even more. He takes the motion and decides to just pick her up instead. His hand reaches behind her thighs, where he raises her and surrounds her weak legs around his hips. Her back against the wall as their hips collided, she took a deep breath at the abrupt change.Now at eye level with her, he planted a kiss on her jaw and positioned himself between her legs. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she held him in place. She felt weak as a result of his forceful hip thrust between her legs.

She dug her hands into his hair and let out a cry through a pant. When she pulled it, he gave a grunt. He clamped down harder on her neck, and in response, she let out an uncontrollable whine.

He tightly clamped his teeth into a single area, creating such strong suction that she was certain it would leave a mark. She almost lost consciousness when she separated her lips in response to her aggressive action, arching her back. Feeling him rough on the pale skin, she reflexively jerked her hand to the back of his head. She got mild pain spikes with it, but other than that, it was enjoyable.

She pulled at the roots above his neck, and he whispered into her neck. She knew immediately that he enjoyed it when she yanked his hair. His moan provided the necessary stimulation between her legs. He drags out every motion so that she begs him to keep going.

With her bra and panties on, she arched her back, feeling the tight fit of his jeans pressing on her inner part. she could feel how hard he was becoming quickly, he was absolutely bottled up in those tight jeans. Suddenly, he sets her down on her two feet and goes on his knees. He lanced down at her stomach, licking his lower lip with his tongue before lowering his head to give her abdomen a moist kiss. Her whole body trembled at the light touch.

He reached her panties and raised his head, gazing up into her eyes all the way up her body. Grabbing the edges of her lace panties, he sits up between her legs and pulls it up off her hips and down her thighs right away. She tensed slightly as he took off the final piece of material covering her body. She raised her legs into the air and he pulled the thin material away from her ankles.

He tossed the last piece of clothing to the floor, leaving her completely vulnerable. “Now, you’re gonna be a good girl and stay quiet. we don’t want anyone to hear you”

Just by feeling his tongue running up her center, her stomach lurched and her entire body flexed. He forced his mouth against her tightly and rolled his tongue straight to the cluster of nerves before she could even begin to grasp the strange sensation of his sharp tongue sliding up her slit. "Charlie-" her back curved off the wall before she could even complete her statement.

Without holding back, he went straight into her clit with a wonderful rhythmic roll of his tongue. Her eyes narrowed as she closed them.

Her hips twitched with the intensity of this wild new feeling right away. "Charlie, oh my god," she said, rolling her eyes inside her head. He maintained a death grip on her thighs, keeping them forced open to give him complete access to enjoy her in any way he pleased. She was unable to regulate her sensitivity, and it would make her body twitch.

His wet tongue rolled in the perfect place at different rhythms and at a steady pace, making her experience things She have never felt in her entire life. He just started, and she was unable to catch her breath.Her hands would be death grasping his thick hair right now if she could control them.

He placed her legs over his shoulders, reaching lower and squeezing a firm grasp around her outer thighs and hip bones. With a deep inhale through his nose, he caressed her with his tongue, sending a surge of ecstasy up her neck and into her veins. With a moan, she chokes and throws back her head, putting her legs across his long back.

She wasn't prepared for the kind of pleasure he gave her when he slid his lengthy tongue inside of her and ran it down. He was an expert at what he was doing and was doing it very well. Then the knot in her stomach turned to give her trembling thighs. Before returning to her clit, which she could now feel pulsating, he slid his tongue in and out of her a few times. The pressure burning inside of her intensified as soon as he made touch with it once more.

She flinches and draws in a short breath as he flicks the tip of his tongue up and down on the bundle of nerves. "I need it so bad.. charlie..." She could not be silent in the room; she was a mess of heavy pants. She was unable to stop herself from breathing heavily and was always accompanied by whimpers and whines that were concealed in the back of her throat.

He looks down between them, his ring and middle fingers digging deep into her. He instantly coiled and shoved them at the same moment, making her gasp. She was taken aback by the furious action. He was panting as well, so she arched her back and let out a whimper into the thick air. The two fingers he didn't have rings on, his fingers rocked into her mercilessly.

She let out a cry, tightly clenching her eyelids and contorting her hips. He coiled up and compressed his fingers, striking a sensitive area within her which she had no idea contained so many nerve endings."You're so fucking tight-" In his deep voice, he whispered.

Her legs trembled as she yelled out, “please." "Does that feel good?" He rasps into the burning air while simultaneously caressing her clit with his fingers. Shutting her eyes tightly, she gave a nod. Her stomach felt like it was about to burst; there were no words to express the feelings she was experiencing.

"Do you feel that knot in your stomach, Angel?" He whispered, reading her thoughts.

She groaned and nodded once more, her chest heaving in a need for breath. "Use your words." More forcefully, he remarks, It was so difficult to focus on anything other than the euphoric rush coursing through her blood. “Y-yes." was her stutter.

"I'm adding a third." Before striking a third finger into her, he muttered. She let out a gasp as he pushed past the line, his third finger descending in unison with the other two. She let out a cry, her back automatically arching off the wall.

"Oh my god!" The pressure between her hips immediately increased as the third finger was thrust in, causing her to cry. her body came out in another sweat, her hips suddenly having a mind of their own when they bucked.

He glanced up at her face, saw how shaken she was getting, her legs trembling with her inability to remain silent. He pulled his hand away from her clit and instead brought it up to cover her lips because she was extremely loud. When the build started to get more tense, he began to shove his three fingers deep into her.

"Everyone is right next door." He smirks.

"You can yell into my hand."

With her eyes squeezed shut, she yelled into his big palm that was placed across her mouth. Her back continued to arch off the wall as the condition grew progressively deeper. She felt as though she were on a cloud and was at a loss for words regarding what was occurring to her body.

"Cum for me baby-" He encouraged, drawing his eyes into hers. He knew she was close.

She whimpered into his fingers, her body's gears shifting like a moving train. Her thighs trembled as though she was freezing, her stomach was drawn in, and her chest pumped fiercely. She kept screaming into his palm at the crushing strain that was killing her, and his fingers kept jamming into the same area.

Her entire body was tight; she was too weak to continue in this state for very long. She let out his muffled name in a scream and then abruptly stopped moving. Everything—shaking, arching, breathing—stopped abruptly.

She undid herself on his fingers. She moans at the feeling of emptiness as he pulls away. He puts a kiss on her forehead and adds, "I knew you would be such a good girl for me." She was still trembling from what had happened, so he gently placed her clothing and underwear on her.

She slid to the floor, tears spilling down her cheeks. The shame she felt was suffocating, wrapping itself around her until she could barely breathe.

“Maddy,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

She shook her head, wiping at her tears with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry,” she choked out, her voice broken. “I’m so, so sorry. I don’t know why i’m crying”

Charlie was kneeling beside her before she could finish, his hands gentle as he reached for her. “Maddy, stop,” he murmured. “You don’t have to apologize”

She shook her head, tears still spilling down her cheeks. “It feels wrong, Charlie. All of this. I feel guilty for even wanting this.”

Charlie sighed, brushing a strand of her hair away from her face. “I know. I feel it too. But guilt isn’t going to help either of us right now. We need to be honest with ourselves about what’s happening, and we need to figure out how to move forward.”

Charlie’s thumb gently wiped away one of her tears, his touch comforting but careful.

Maddy closed her eyes, leaning into his touch, even though part of her knew they shouldn’t be this close. But in this moment, she needed the comfort, the reassurance that she wasn’t alone in this guilt. That they would find a way through it, together.

NSFW Alphabet SHAWN MICHEALS HEADCANONS

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Shawn’s a cuddled. He’d never admit that shit out loud but he LOVES to be in your skin after sex. He wants to be under you and babied. Tell anyone and he’d deny it all.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Shawn’s favorite body part of his is his hands. He loves how much bigger they are compared to yours and he loves when you grab his hand when you’re nervous or scared.

His favorite body part of yours is your ass. It doesn’t matter how small it is or how big it is. Shawn is an ass man. He’s always smacking it when you walk down the gorilla with him.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Shawn likes to come on you. Specifically on your face and tits. He doesn’t know if it’s some territorial thing or what but he loves to cum in your underwear and make you wear them out.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Shawn likes to spit in your mouth. He once was really amped after a match and caught dragged you into his locker room “Open up baby.” You open your mouth and feel his warm spit hit your tongue. “Swallow.” It’s more of a demand than anything.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s extremely experienced he’s older than you and has definitely had a many trips around the sun lol.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Shawn’s favorite position is doggy. He loves hitting it from behind then pulling you up for a sloppy kiss. Sometimes he makes you arch your back more and you can almost feel him In your tummy.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Shawn is kinda goofy. More so during foreplay he’ll crack a shitty joke and chuckle in between pecks.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Shawn is decently well groomed. He’s a pretty boy so he keeps up with his appearance. He grows a lot of hair there so he keeps it neatly trimmed.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He’s a lot softer during intimacy. He gives you sweet kisses and everything is so much more sensual.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He masturbates a lot when you’re not around. He’s crazy about you so he’s not going touch another woman.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Shawn has a brat taming kink. He lowkey loves it when you get an attitude because it gives him an excuse to remind you why you should be a good girl.

He has marking kink. He purposefully puts hickeys in visible spots so he can make sure everyone sees them

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He likes to pull you into the broom closets backstage and fuck you against the wall “sssh if you get too loud somebody might hear you pretty.” Shawn would cover your mouth as he stroked deeper inside of you with a shit eating grin. He would let you walk out with a panty full of cum to his dressing room.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

When you wear skimpy little ring outfits. Honestly he loves when you wear skimpy outfits no matter what. He likes for guys to know they can look but not touch. He likes when you tug on his hair something about just gets him going in all the right places.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He does not do anything to do with pee or poop.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Shawn likes to receive. He likes to see you gagging on his dick with tears running down your face. You’re such a pretty girl choking on him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Shawn rough and slow. He wants you to enjoy every damn moment with him but he just likes it a little rough it general. He can’t help himself. Seeing the way you squeeze your eyes shut and bite your lips as he gives you agonizing slow strokes.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Shawn is always up for a quickie even at the most inappropriate of times and you regularly have to tell him no you will not meet him the McDonalds bathroom. As Paul sits obliviously next to you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Shawn is a risk taker he once convinced you to let him fuck with the curtains open in your hotel room. It was thrilling hoping nobody peered up and saw your tits squished against the glass as Shawn took you from behind.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Shawn can go two rounds sometimes 3. Mostly two though he has a lot of energy and you’re his favorite stress ball.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He once bought you vibrating panties and made you walk down the gorilla with him. It’s the only toy he uses on you and god does he use it at the most inconvenient times.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Tease should be his middle fucking name. He’s always placing little kisses on your sweet spot. He’s rubbing your thigh under the table and feeling up your ass while taking pictures with fans.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Shawn’s a vocal boy and you love it. The way he fists your hair as he lets out a throaty groan. How he lets out pretty moan when you suck the tip just right.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He once fucked you in Hunter’s locker room. You wouldn’t call it your finest hour. He thinks fondly on it lol.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Shawn has a pretty dick. It’s pretty thick with one vein going up the under side of it and flushed tip when he’s hard.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Shawn is always down to fuck. When he hurt his back he almost begged you with puppy dog eyes to ride him.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Almost immediately after. He’s a huge on cuddling even when you whine to try and get up and take a shower he’s not having it. He pulls you close mumbles something about tomorrow and passes out on your stomach.

ShawnXreader? Bratty reader getting a spanking from HBK?

Thank you, lovely Anon! Hope this hits the spot…

“Honey, I’m home!”

You grin at the sound of his voice as the front door opens and then you curse quietly as you realise the half-full takeout cup is still perched on the table. You leap up and grab it, swiftly tucking it away behind the couch. You’ve already had your quota of iced coffee ‘concoctions’ (as Shawn calls them), for the week and so you’ll be in trouble if he sees it.

You turn around with a smile and he drops his bag to the floor and opens his arms. With a happy giggle you leap into them and he kisses you, spins you around and sets you back on the floor before pulling you in for a deeper kiss. You close your eyes and drift into it when he suddenly stops and leans back, looking at you closely.

“What?” You pout at the abrupt end to the kiss but he just continues to stare, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Do I have something on my face?”

“Where is it?” He says, casting suspicious glances around the room and then turning back to you after noticing the ring of condensation on the table.

You feel yourself blush but try to appear nonchalant, saying with a frown, “Where is what?”

He gives you a warning look. “Baby girl, I can see the chocolate in the corners of your mouth and I can taste the coffee. Where is it - or did you finish it already?”

You roll your eyes and say huffily, “It’s only a drink.”

He gives his head a small shake and his tone is measured as he replies, “We’ve talked about this, remember, and you agreed that you were having too many of those things. You asked me to set a limit on how many you should have and so-”

“I wanted one!” You practically stamp your foot and your voice raises as you interrupt him.

All Shawn raises is his eyebrow. “Did you forget who you’re talking to? Sounds like you need a time-out, little girl; go stand in the corner.”

Folding your arms tightly and pouting, you go to push past him but he stops you with a hand on your shoulder. “After you answer my question and tell me where it is.”

“Find it yourself,” you mutter, shrugging his hand off.

“Yeah, keep it up, brat. You’ve just upgraded from a time-out to a spanking.”

You’re annoyed at yourself for letting him down and for being caught out, but you know that now he’s said you’re getting a spanking there’s no way back from it, so it’s time for damage limitation. “It’s behind the couch,” you say quietly, head down.

“Go get it.”

Dragging your feet slightly you go and retrieve the cup, before turning back around to face him and he inclines his head towards the door.

“Into the kitchen and get rid of it.”

With a small sigh you do as you’re told, carrying it through to the kitchen where you remove the lid and pour the liquid down the drain. You don’t care - it no longer seems as appealing as it did before. You rinse out the cup too, and you’re about to dry it a little when his voice floats through to you.

“It doesn’t take that long - get your butt back in here!”

You return to the living room and he’s sat on the couch, waiting. You pause in the doorway and then he beckons to you.

“Over my knee. Now. You know what happens to little brats who don’t follow the rules.”

You swallow and make your way over before slowly getting into position with your hips in his lap. He shifts you about a little and pulls your sweats and underwear down to your knees before guiding your arms out in front of you.

“You gonna keep those there, or do I need to hold on to your hands?”

“Keep ‘em,” You answer quietly and he strokes a hand down your back. The comfort is only momentary because in the next second his hand lands hard on your butt and you gasp with a mixture of shock and pain. He alternates between each cheek, delivering three more hard smacks and you whimper and clench your hands into fists.

“You know why you’re being punished, don’t you?” His free hand presses firmly into the middle of your back as he deals another half dozen blows.

“Uh huh - yes!” You correct yourself, knowing that you’re supposed to use your words.

He pauses the spanking for a moment and squeezes your cheeks. “Tell me,” He says quietly.

“I - I broke the rule about how many coffees I can have,” You say and then cry out as a fresh volley of hits lands on your skin.

“And…?”

You close your eyes briefly, feeling ashamed. “I - I lied to you about having it.”

“What else?” You don’t answer right away and so he unleashes again with a series of hard smacks that alternate on your cheeks, ending up with a couple of hits to your tender sit spot.

“I was rude! I’m sorry!” You kick your feet but to no avail as he just shifts to clamp one of your legs beneath his own.

“Quit struggling.” His tone is impassive and he reaches across to pinion your wrists without missing a beat before you have the chance to try and reach back to cover yourself. “You earned this baby girl, and you’re gonna take it.”

The only sounds for the next minute or so are the slap of palm against skin and you yelp and wriggle as he lands hard slaps to your bottom and thighs. Tears leak out, a mixture of pain and regret, as you twist your hands together within his grasp. Stupid coffee with it’s syrup and stupid chocolate cream…

“I’m sorry! I won’t do it again, I promise, please!” You cry out as the blows rain down, seemingly getting harder. How can his hands be so soft and yet so hard at the same time?

“Yeah, I bet.” He lands four more hard slaps, and the final one ends with his hand impacting and then rubbing firmly against your burning flesh. You wriggle forward as though trying to escape and then give in to the treatment, as however sore it is, the gesture signals the end of your ordeal.

“You gonna stick to our rules in future, baby girl?” He squeezes the flesh hard and you whimper, kicking your feet again.

“I promise!”

“Alright then,” He answers and releases you from his grip, helping you to your feet. “Into the corner now - five minutes.”

Normally you would pout and argue about corner time, but you’re fairly sure that your ass is a beacon and so without protest you allow him to set you upright and shuffle you to the corner.

“Hands on your head, baby girl. You have a little think there about our rules.”

Backside throbbing, you do as he says, amazed that your butt seems to have developed its own heartbeat.You know of course that you were wrong to break his rule, and even more so to lie about it. You sniff, feeling sorry for yourself and settle in for the wait…

~*~

“OK, we’re all done, baby girl. Out you come. Come on and give me a hug.”

You turn eagerly and throw yourself into his waiting arms, happily inhaling the scent of his skin. “‘M sorry,” You answer truthfully, “I won’t do it again.”

“Sure hope not,” He says, giving you a squeeze. “Much more fun things to do than punish you…”

You look up at him shyly. “Show me?”

…

TTT

Satisfy The Fans || LH44 x RB driver!Reader

Warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, angst (?), (implied) age gap, fake dating, drunken confession, mutual pining, slow burn,

Wordcount: 3.1k

From the start of her f1 career, she had always had a close relationship with Lewis, so the small pecks on the forehead she got from him wasn’t abnormal, but when it got caught by a paparazzi, it turned the whole internet towards them

Paddock affair: Hamilton and young driver

That was the days headline. She sat scrolling on her phone when she heard the bickering from the garage

She had yet to read it herself, but the small talks from behind her got her curious

“What are you whispering about back there?” She turned her head behind her to see Max, Christian and a few mechanics standing in a small circle

They all froze when they heard her voice. None of them answered, but it was clear they had heard her, so they couldn’t exactly ignore her

Christian was the one to speak up after he cleared his throat “Are you… Dating Hamilton?” He asked, hesitation obvious in his eyes

“What?” She was confused by his question “No. What makes you think that?” She asked with knitted eyebrows

He looked back into his phone and read aloud from it “Paddock affair: Hamilton and young driver. During the Australian qualifying sessions, Lewis Hamilton and Y/N Y/L/N was seeing kissing” He locked his phone and looked back up at her

“Huh?” She was even more confused “Did you get that from twitter? I’ve never kissed Lewis in my entire life” She explained “It was a peck on my forehead. He does it all the time” She shrugged

“So you’re telling me they’re lying?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest

“Yes. Yes, I am” She chuckled, turning back to her phone “Don’t believe everything you reading on the internet, Christian. Especially if it’s on twitter”

After the race that Sunday, she came knocking on Lewis’ hotel door “You’ve read the rumours?” She pushed past him, not even bothering to greet him

“I have, yeah” He watched as she kicked off her shoes and threw her body onto the bed, messing up the sheets “Wine?”

“Do you have something stronger?” She asked, drawing out a chuckle from him

“Anything specific in mind?” He asked, watching her roll over on her stomach, her hair already a mess

“Anything above 25% and I’ll be happy” She sat up, leaning against the headboard as he found whatever alcohol he could

“We drink too much” She sighed as he came over with a bottle and two glasses

“Who cares?” He asked, sitting down on the bed with her

“Other than our livers, kidneys, and doctors, nobody” She said, watching her glass getting filled up with liquor

They sat for a few hours, drinking and talking, feeling the alcohol really start to kick in as they neared midnight

“What if we actually dated?” He asked, earning a pair of raised eyebrows from her “I’m not suggesting we date, I’m just saying, what do you think the internet would be like if we actually dated?”

“They wouldn’t get out of our faces, I think” She said, emptying her glass down her throat, too used to it to feel the burn

He just looked at her as she pouted from the empty glass “You want to, don’t you?” She asked, seeing the glint in his eye when she looked back at him

“We both know we don’t have feelings for each other, but it would be fun to see, Y’know?” He said, switching their glasses so she had his filled one and his were empty

“You know what? Let’s fake date, Lew” She took out her hand like they were making a deal

“Get that hand away” He slapped her hand away with a laugh on his lips

“Imagine all the fans were gonna satisfy” She said, another empty glass in her hands

For the next race, they had both informed their PR managers, but no one else, and they made sure to be seen as much as possible out in public together, as well as in the paddock

They arrived together at the paddock, talk in between practice sessions, and whenever it was possible to get some free time

Saturday after qualifying, they took a stroll down the city. They hadn’t realised the time, and they had stayed out until late

It was getting dark and cold in the streets, but it was too beautiful to go back to the hotel. They walked a few steps before Lewis stopped in his tracks

“What?” She turned around, looking up at him

“Let’s satisfy the fans, no?” She didn’t get to answer before he had pulled her body into his, holding her face with one hand as the other were on her waist, kissing her lips soft

She was too startled to kiss back, yet her hands were placed softly on his waist. He pulled back slightly, looking at her surprised expression

“There’s a paparazzi across the street. Wanna make it believable, right?” He smiled as he surprised state faded into a friendly smile

“Idiot” She slapped his chest softly before she were able to get out of his grip and started walking again

“You told us you weren’t dating” Max came bursting into her drivers room without knocking, making her yelp slightly

“Jeez, ever heard about knocking?” He just stood there silently “Anyway… What are you talking about?”

She watched as he took out his phone, typing at it. She took the phone from him when he handed it too her

She was met by the image of her and Lewis the day before, standing in each others arms kissing

“Oh, yeah. That was taken yesterday, Max” She explained, handing him his phone back “So what I told you was technically the truth”

“So you are dating?” He asked surprised

“Yes. Yes, we are” She said, standing up from the couch, walking past him to get out into the garage again

“Uh-uh. We aren’t done here” He said, following behind her like a lost puppy

“Since when did you start caring about my love life?” She sighed, walking over to her side

“Since it evolved the rival” He whispered, pulling her out to the said

“Look, Max, it’s not like I’m gonna bring it on to the track. People can have separate relationships on and off the track. Do you trust me to make this work?” He nodded but not without hesitation “Thank you”

Soon enough, all the drivers had heard about their ‘relationship’, as well as the team principals

“Y/N, how did your relationship with Lewis start?” She hadn’t thought about the interviews when they made their agreement

“Well, we’ve always had a close relationship as friends, and I guess that we slowly realised our feelings for each other the more time we spend with each other” She explained, coming up with a lie as quick as she could

“That’s actually quite sweet” The interviewer smiled “How are you handling all the hate?”

“We’re both handling it fine. I think people should get love who they love despite their age gap, as long as it’s a reasonable range, of course” She said, fiddling with her fingers

“Alright, thank you, Y/N” She walked away after a quick goodbye

“You okay?” Lewis had grabbed her attention before she had fully stomped off

“‘M fine” Her voice was telling the absolute opposite

“Come here” He pulled her body close into a hug, his lips meeting the top of her head, soothing her back down to earth

“Thank you, Lew” She pulled away and walked towards her crew who led her back to her drivers room

“Can we get back to the interview, Lewis?” The interviewer asked as his eyes still lingered on her body walking away

“Of course, sorry” He said, turning his head back to the person in front of him

“It’s quite alright. You two are very cute together” She said, making Lewis smile the slightest “Now, how did this begin- the relationship between you two?”

“We’ve always been close friends, and I guess the more we hung out and knew each other, our feeling for each other became more than friendly” The only thoughts in his head at the moment; what would it be like to actually date her?

Their act has been going on for half a year now, and it was going good, she still got startled when he kissed her after seeing a paparazzi and she didn’t. She would never get used to the feeling of his lips against hers

They were in her hotel room, sharing a bottle of whatever liquor they had, talking about everything and nothing

After about half an hour, he called it quits and said he had to go to sleep, so he went back to his own room a floor under her

As soon as he had closed the hotel door to her room, she took her phone out, typing up Max’ name

Can you come in here? I need your help with sm

Give me 2

About those two minutes went by before she heard the knock on her door “Thank god” She said relived as he stepped into the room

“What do you need help with?” He asked, sensing the worries in her body language

“Lewis” She watched as he knitted his eye brows together “I don’t know if he loves me” She had started to feel the changes a month after they started ‘dating’

He had become more caring, more sweet, more like a boyfriend than the friend she used to have

“What do you mean? Of course he does” He said, sitting down on the edge of the bed “I’ve seen the way he looks at you”

“Yeah, but that’s all an act. He doesn’t love me like I love him” Max became even more confused by her words

“All an act? What?” His face was pure confusion

“Me and Lewis never dated, not really anyways” She sighed, sitting down on the bed as well

“We fake dated to see what would happen” She said once she saw his expression

“Okay” He nodded slightly “So what makes you think he doesn’t have feelings for you?” He asked, wanting to help her

“The day we started ‘dating’, he said ‘we both know we don’t have feelings for each other’, and I get that, we’re good friends. I don’t think he ever would have feelings for me” She explained, feelings her throat almost close up

“I’m positive he doesn’t have feelings for me, Max” He sighed hearing her words

“Wait, so you’re telling me you two never dated?” George was as confused as Max had been just a minute ago

“Did any other words come out of my mouth?” Lewis asked, tone full of sarcasm

“Wow, getting sassy early” George said, raising his eyebrows at his teammate

“I’m sorry, I just don’t know what to do. She obviously doesn’t have feeling for me” He slumped down on the couch, the air coming out in a huff

“You could just talk to her, tell her how it is” George shrugged, trying to help his teammate

“And risk loosing our friendship? No thank you. Rather live like this than without her” Lewis explained, thinking of all the bad things that could happen if he told her

She just wished she could tell him

He just wished he could tell her

Abu Dhabi rolled around, and she had going at it with the partying for a while before she had headed to bed

Around 1:30am, she heard a knock on the door that startled her awake. Now that she was awake, she could just answer the door

“Lewis?” Her eyes was still blurry from the fact she still wasn’t fully awake

“Can I come in?” His words were slurred, very obviously drunk

She sighed as she took in the state of him “Sure, baby” The pet names was something they had agreed on was okay, and they were used so much in public it had gotten into their private lives as well

She closed the door behind him as he took a few steps in. She barely got to turn around before he was spilling words at her

“I love you. I love you so, so much. I have loved you since we started dating, and I can’t keep it in anymore” He had taken her face into his hands

“Lewis-“ “Just let me love you” He had pulled her face into his kiss her softly. She put her hands on his chest, pushing him away

“You’re drunk, Lewis. You don’t know what you’re saying” She said, taking his hands away from her face, pulling them down to rest at his side

“What is it that they say? ‘Drunk words are sober thoughts’” He said, taking a step closer to her

“Lewis, you’re too drunk to be allowed to speak. Will you just go to bed?” She asked, letting him take that step forward

“Will you join me?” He asked, obvious hurt in his eyes

“Do you promise to sleep?” He nodded, not daring to speak “Then I will” She sighed, starting to guide him over to the bed

He got out of his jeans before she got him under the covers. She laid down beside his already dozing off body

He scooted closer to her, curling his body into her arms, sighing at the feeling of her warm body

As he woke up, she wasn’t in bed

“Morning” She said, handing him a glass of water and a two painkillers of some kind

He sat up right, taking the glass and pills “What would I do without you. I love you” He swallowed the pills before taking a sip of the water

“I know. You already said that today” She said, sitting back down on the bed

“What? When?” He was confused, remembering nothing of the sort

“Around 1:30 after you woke me up” She explained

“Oh my god. I am so sorry, really, I am” He looked away from her

“Lew, it’s fine-“ “No, it’s not. I’m really sor-“ He was silenced when she had forced his head towards her and had connected their lips

“I love you too, Lewis” She had pulled slightly back, seeing his pupils darken, taking the brown in them away

“You do?” He asked softly, almost like his words got stuck in his throat “Like, you *really* do?” A smile formed in the corner of his mouth as he put the glass onto the nightstand

She kissed him again, proving her point. He groaned into the kiss as it got more sloppy and heated

He had gotten her pinned down to the bed, lips going from her mouth and down her neck, leaving a few lovebites behind as he moved to the other side of her neck

“Lew, please” She whined, bucked her hips up into his, trying to get more friction

He scooted down the bed, his lips landing on the insides of her bare thighs. His fingers hooked into the waist band of her shorts, pulling them down

She whined as his lips made their way back to her inner thighs, leaving marks behind

“Please, Lewis. I need you so bad” Her breath stuttered as he pulled her panties down slowly, his fingers ghosting her skin

He wasted no time to draw his tongue through her wet folds the moment her panties were removed

“Fuck, Lew” She bucked her hips into his mouth, gripping the sheets beneath her harshly

She moaned loud when his tongue settled on her clit, putting pleasurable pressure on it

“Lewis, please” She arched her back off of the bed, her knuckles turning white from the grip in the sheets

Two of his fingers teased her entrance, making her whine as his tongue started flicking her clit, making her moan loud

He slowly started setting a pace with his fingers, curling them every now and then, hitting the spot inside her that made her body shake

“Lewis, please. Don’t stop- fuck, feels so good” Her words were slurred as she neared her orgasm, clenching rapidly around his fingers

“Fuck, Lew- ‘M gonna come, please” He sped up his fingers, curling them every time, sending her over the edge

She came with cry of his name, her whole body shaking, her chest rising and falling at a rapid speed

He kissed the insides of her thighs, soothing her out of her orgasm “Please, Lew… I need…” She still had trouble speaking from her orgasm

“I know. Don’t worry. I’m right here” He got off of the bed. He quickly removed his clothes and got back on the bed between her legs

She put her legs around his hips, pushing further against her as he started prepping small kisses to her neck and throat

He slowly entered her, drawing out moans from both of them. He stilled his hips, letting her adjust to him before he started moving

“Move, please” Her hands were all over the skin she could reach before settling at his back as he started moving

“Fuck, you feel so good, baby” He whimpered as her nails dug into his back, scraping along his skin

He angled her hips in a way that made him it hit that perfect spot inside her that made her moan loud

“Fuck, right there, Lew- fuck” He sped up, making sure to hit the same spot over and over again

“‘M so close- fuck, baby” The way she was rapidly clenching around him drew him closer to the edge

The next room over could probably hear their skin against skin sounds as well as their mixed moans

“Fuck, you clench so good ‘round me, love” He leaned down and prepped kisses above her breast

“Baby, please-“ She didn’t even know what she was pleading for, but she knew she could feel him getting close as well as he was twitching inside her

“Mhm, right behind you, baby” She took the cue and within a couple of thrusts, her body shook yet again with his name rolling off her tongue

And as promised, he was right behind her, stilling his hips as he came inside her with a moan

He slowed down his hips, circling her hipbone with his thumbs as she came down from her high

He pulled out of her, drawing a whine from both of them at the loss of contact between the two of them

They both sat in the bathtub, her back against his chest, his hands rubbing her thighs as she was slowly drifting away into a sleep

“Will you be my girlfriend?” They way his lips felt against her cheekbone woke her up

She turned her head to face him “Yes. Yes, I will” She smiled, pulling his face into a soft kiss

Hi guys! I found this adorable photo of Lyle when he was a kid, holding baby Erik. Also Lyle looks so proud/happy to be holding Erik in this photo.

The One Left Behind

Max Verstappen x Lewis Hamilton’s ex!Reader

Summary: your first love was a seven-time world champion with a chip on his shoulder who would stop at nothing to finally get that eighth … even at the expense of you. Your second (and last) love is a five-time world champion with racing in his blood who proves, once and for all, that he would give it all up for you without even being asked … and regret absolutely nothing

Based on this request

The rain taps softly against the glass walls of the penthouse. The lights of Monaco shimmer beyond the windows, reflections dancing across the polished floor like scattered stars.

You sit cross-legged on the oversized couch, Lewis sprawled beside you, his legs stretched out, an arm slung casually over the backrest. He’s scrolling through his phone, something about sector times and telemetry, but his attention isn’t fully there. Not tonight.

“Lewis,” you say, gently nudging his side with your foot.

“Hmm?” He doesn’t look up.

You nudge him harder, and this time he glances your way, a half-smile tugging at his lips. “What’s up?”

“I need you to focus for, like, five minutes.”

“I am focusing,” he says, holding up his phone as evidence. “Race prep.”

“On me, Lewis.”

That gets his attention. He sets the phone down on the coffee table, screen still glowing with data, and leans back, giving you his full, undivided gaze. “Alright, I’m all yours. What’s on your mind?”

You hesitate for a moment, fingers curling into the soft fabric of your sweater. The words are there, sitting heavy on your tongue, but saying them feels like stepping off the edge of something solid. Still, you’ve been together for almost six years. If you can’t have this conversation with him now, when can you?

“I’ve been thinking,” you start, your voice steady but quiet, “about us. About the future.”

Lewis tilts his head, curiosity flickering across his face. “What about it?”

You take a deep breath. “I want to get married, Lewis. I want to have a family. With you.”

His expression shifts, not into shock or annoyance, but something harder to read. He doesn’t respond right away, which only makes the silence stretch uncomfortably between you.

“I know the timing’s not perfect,” you add quickly, trying to fill the gap. “I know you’re in the middle of-”

“The most important season of my career?” He finishes for you, a wry smile softening his tone.

“Yeah, that.”

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Babe, it’s not that I don’t want those things with you. I do. You know I do.”

“Do I?” The question slips out before you can stop it, and you see the flicker of surprise in his eyes.

“Of course you do,” he says, his voice low, almost defensive. “Six years. That’s not nothing.”

“I know it’s not nothing. But sometimes it feels like we’re stuck in the same place. Like we’re … waiting for something that never comes.”

Lewis scrubs a hand down his face, the faintest hint of frustration breaking through his calm demeanor. “It’s not that simple, love. You know how much this season means to me. Winning an eighth title, it’s history. Legacy. Everything I’ve worked for my whole life.”

“And what about after that?” You press, leaning closer. “What happens when you get it? Then what?”

His eyes search yours, and for a moment, he looks almost … unsure. It’s a rare thing, seeing Lewis Hamilton unsure of anything.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I’ve never really thought about it. Not in detail.”

“Well, maybe you should,” you say, your voice soft but firm. “Because I have. And I can’t keep pretending I’m okay with just being … your girlfriend forever.”

Lewis winces at the word, like it stings. “That’s not what you are to me. You’re everything. You know that.”

“Then prove it.”

He leans back again, running both hands through his hair as he exhales sharply. “God, you don’t make this easy, do you?”

“It’s not supposed to be easy. It’s supposed to be real.”

For a long moment, he just looks at you, his dark eyes searching your face like he’s trying to solve some impossible puzzle. Then, slowly, he nods.

“Okay,” he says, his voice steady now, resolute. “When I win this season — when I get that eighth title — I’ll retire.”

Your breath catches. “What?”

“You heard me,” he says, a small, almost mischievous smile playing on his lips. “I’ll retire. I’ll hang up my helmet, put a ring on your finger, and we’ll start trying for that family you’ve been dreaming about.”

You stare at him, equal parts stunned and skeptical. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious.”

“Lewis, you can’t just say that to shut me up.”

“I’m not trying to shut you up,” he says, reaching for your hand. His fingers are warm, steady, and when he looks at you now, there’s no hesitation, no uncertainty. “I’m saying it because I mean it. When I win, it’ll be the perfect ending. The perfect time to step away. And then it’s just us. No races, no travel, no distractions. Just you and me.”

“And a baby,” you add, because if you’re going to dream, you might as well dream big.

He chuckles, the sound warm and rich, and pulls you closer until you’re half in his lap. “And a baby,” he agrees.

It feels like a promise, one sealed with the way he presses a kiss to your forehead, his arms wrapping around you like they’re anchoring you to him.

But somewhere, deep down, a small, cautious voice whispers: what if he doesn’t win?

***

The suite is silent except for the faint hum of the minibar fridge and the muffled sounds of celebration filtering in from somewhere outside. It’s as if the entire world is rejoicing, but here, in the confines of this hotel room, everything feels like it’s crumbling.

Lewis hasn’t said a word since you got back. He walked in, dropped his helmet bag by the door, and slumped onto the edge of the bed, still in his team gear. His shoulders are hunched, his head bowed, his hands clasped tightly between his knees.

You stand a few feet away, arms crossed over your chest, unsure whether to approach him or leave him to his thoughts. The weight in the room is unbearable, pressing down on your chest until it’s hard to breathe.

“Lewis,” you say softly, testing the waters.

He doesn’t move.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Nothing. Not even a flicker of acknowledgment.

You take a tentative step closer. “I know it hurts-”

“Don’t,” he says sharply, cutting you off. His voice is hoarse, raw from the screams and protests he let out over the radio hours ago. He still hasn’t looked up.

You flinch but press on, refusing to let the conversation die. “I’m just trying to help.”

“There’s nothing to help,” he snaps, finally lifting his head. His eyes are bloodshot, his expression a mix of devastation and barely restrained fury. “It’s done. Over. What’s there to say?”

Your heart twists at the sight of him like this — so broken, so unlike the unshakable man you’ve always known. “I just thought-”

“Don’t you get it?” He interrupts, his voice rising. He stands abruptly, towering over you, his frustration bubbling over. “I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to sit here and dissect how it all fell apart. I want to forget.”

You step back, your own emotions starting to fray at the edges. “You can’t just pretend it didn’t happen. You need to face it.”

“And what good would that do?” He shoots back, pacing the room now like a caged animal. “Would it give me my title? My win? Would it change the fact that I got robbed tonight?”

His words hang heavy in the air, and for a moment, neither of you speaks.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly.

“Yeah,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “Me too.”

The silence stretches again, but this time it’s different. More fragile. You can feel it cracking under the weight of what you need to say next.

“Lewis,” you begin, your voice barely above a whisper. “About what we talked about. Before …”

He stops pacing, turning to look at you with a frown. “What?”

“A few weeks ago,” you clarify, taking a shaky breath. “You said when you won, you’d retire. That we’d start … building a life together.”

His jaw tightens, the muscle ticking as he stares at you.

“I know you didn’t win,” you continue hesitantly, “but does that really change anything? Can’t we still-”

“Don’t,” he says sharply, holding up a hand. His expression is hard now, a stark contrast to the vulnerability he showed earlier. “Don’t do this right now.”

“Why not?” You ask, frustration creeping into your tone. “Because it’s not convenient? Because it’s easier to bury yourself in racing than deal with what’s happening between us?”

“That’s not fair,” he snaps, his voice rising again.

“Isn’t it?” You challenge, taking a step closer. “You made me a promise. And now, what? You’re just going to pretend it didn’t happen because things didn’t go your way?”

He shakes his head, a bitter laugh escaping him. “You don’t get it. You’ve never understood. Racing isn’t just something I do — it’s who I am. Walking away now, without that eighth championship … I can’t. I won’t.”

Your chest tightens, and you feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “So what about me? What about us? Do we just stay on pause forever while you chase this thing that might never happen?”

His face twists with something you can’t quite place — anger, regret, maybe both. “This isn’t just about you,” he says, his voice dangerously low. “I’ve given everything to this sport. Everything. And I’m not quitting until I finish what I started.”

“So I’m just supposed to wait?” You ask, your voice cracking. “How long, Lewis? Another year? Two? Five? When is it going to be enough?”

“I don’t know!” He shouts, the words bursting out of him like a dam breaking. “I don’t know, alright?”

The room falls silent again, the weight of his outburst settling over both of you.

“I can’t do this,” he mutters after a moment, shaking his head. “Not right now.”

Before you can say another word, he grabs his jacket from the back of a chair and heads for the door.

“Lewis, wait,” you plead, your voice trembling. “Don’t walk away from this. From me.”

He pauses, his hand on the doorknob, but he doesn’t turn around. “I just need some air,” he says, his tone clipped.

And then he’s gone, the door slamming shut behind him with a finality that makes you flinch.

You stand there for a moment, frozen, staring at the door as if willing him to come back. But the only sound is the muffled celebration outside, a cruel reminder of everything that’s been lost tonight.

Finally, your legs give out, and you sink onto the edge of the bed, burying your face in your hands as the tears come. They’re hot and relentless, spilling down your cheeks as sobs wrack your body.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. None of it. You were supposed to be celebrating together, planning your future, looking ahead to the life you’d been dreaming of for so long.

But instead, it feels like everything is slipping through your fingers, and no matter how hard you try to hold on, it’s all crumbling around you.

You don’t know how long you sit there, crying into the silence, but when the tears finally stop, you’re left with an emptiness that feels even worse.

And for the first time in six years, you wonder if maybe Lewis Hamilton isn’t the man you thought he was. Or maybe he is, and that’s the problem.

***

One Year Later

The glass facade of the clinic looms above you, pristine and intimidating. Every time you glance at the sign — Centre de Fertilité de Monaco written in bold looping letters — your stomach churns. You’ve been standing outside for almost fifteen minutes, shifting your weight from one foot to the other, arms crossed tightly against the chill in the air.

The city is alive around you, luxury cars humming down the streets, the faint sound of waves crashing against the marina in the distance. But you feel like you’re in a bubble, trapped in your own swirling thoughts.

This is what you want. You’ve thought about it a hundred times, planned every detail, read every article, and filled out every form. And yet, your feet refuse to move.

“Just go inside,” you whisper to yourself, though the words feel hollow.

You take a step toward the door, but your hand falters just shy of the handle.

“Y/N?”

The voice is familiar, low and slightly accented, and it stops you in your tracks. You turn to see Max Verstappen standing a few feet away, a look of surprise etched across his face. He’s dressed casually in a hoodie and jeans, but there’s no mistaking him.

“Max,” you breathe, startled.

He takes a step closer, his brows knitting together. “What are you doing here?”

You glance at the clinic sign and then back at him, your heart hammering in your chest. “It’s, uh … personal.”

Max’s eyes narrow slightly, curiosity and concern mingling in his expression. “Personal enough that you’re standing outside looking like you’re about to throw up?”

Your face heats, and you instinctively wrap your arms around yourself, as if that could shield you from his gaze. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.” He pauses, studying you. Then his eyes flicker to the sign again, and something seems to click. “Wait … are you-”

“Yes,” you blurt, cutting him off. There’s no point in pretending now. “I’m here to get artificially inseminated.”

Max blinks, clearly not expecting that answer. “Oh.”

You look away, embarrassed. “It’s not a big deal. Lots of women do it.”

“Without anyone here to support you?” He asks, his tone soft but pointed.

You shrug, your voice defensive. “It’s my decision.”

Max doesn’t respond right away, and when you finally look back at him, he’s frowning. “Why?”

The question catches you off guard. “Why what?”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because I want a baby,” you say, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“And you can’t … I don’t know, meet someone?”

You let out a bitter laugh. “Right, because it’s that easy.”

Max shifts awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re serious about this?”

“Yes, Max,” you snap, your patience wearing thin. “I’ve been serious about this for a long time. Just because my relationship didn’t work out doesn’t mean I should have to give up on what I want.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then he says quietly, “So you and Lewis really broke up.”

You nod, swallowing hard. The mention of Lewis still feels like a punch to the gut, even after all this time. “Yeah. A while ago.”

Max hesitates, his hands shoved into his pockets. “And now you’re just … what? Picking a random donor from a catalog and hoping for the best?”

The words sting, and you glare at him. “It’s not like that.”

“Isn’t it?” He presses, his voice still calm but insistent. “You deserve more than that. You deserve more than a child fathered by some random man you only know as lines of descriptions on paper.”

That’s the moment you break. The tears you’ve been holding back for weeks, maybe even months, come flooding out. You cover your face with your hands, trying to stifle the sobs, but it’s no use.

“Hey,” Max says quickly, stepping closer. “Hey, don’t-”

But you can’t stop. It’s all too much — Lewis, the clinic, the choices you’ve had to make on your own.

“I just want-” you choke out, but the words dissolve into another sob.

“Come here,” Max says softly, wrapping an arm around your back and gently tugging you closer. You collapse against him, your face buried in his shoulder as the tears keep coming.

He doesn’t say anything at first, just holds you, his hand moving in slow, soothing circles over your back. His hoodie smells faintly of cologne and something clean, like fresh laundry.

After a while, your sobs start to quiet, and you manage to pull back, wiping at your face. “I’m sorry,” you mumble, embarrassed.

“Don’t be,” Max says, his voice low. He tilts his head, his blue eyes soft but serious. “You’re clearly not in the right state of mind to be making life-changing decisions.”

You open your mouth to argue, but he cuts you off.

“Look,” he says, “I’m not saying you shouldn’t do this. I’m saying maybe today isn’t the day. You’re upset. And I don’t think you should do something this big while you’re feeling like this.”

You hesitate, his words sinking in.

“My apartment is just around the corner,” he continues. “Why don’t we go there? We can talk, or not talk. Whatever you want. But at least give yourself a little time to think.”

You hesitate, glancing back at the clinic. The weight of the decision presses heavily on you, but so does the thought of going through with it now, like this.

“Okay,” you whisper finally.

Max nods, a small, reassuring smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Come on.”

He keeps his hand on your back as he guides you down the street, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you don’t feel entirely alone.

***

Max’s apartment is modern, sleek, and surprisingly warm. The large windows overlook the Monaco skyline, the twinkling lights of the city reflecting off the sea in the distance. You sit on the plush gray couch, clutching a mug of tea Max handed you just moments ago. The ceramic is warm in your hands, grounding you as the weight of everything presses down on your chest.

Max settles in the armchair across from you, his long legs stretched out, one elbow resting on the armrest as he watches you carefully. He hasn’t said much since you got here, and you’re grateful for it. But now, with the tea steeping between your fingers and his steady gaze on you, you feel the urge to fill the silence.

“I don’t even know where to start,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Max shrugs lightly, a faint, reassuring smile tugging at his lips. “Start anywhere.”

You exhale shakily, staring into the dark liquid in your mug. “Lewis and I were together for six years. Six years of my life … and for a long time, I thought we wanted the same things.”

Max’s brows knit together, but he stays quiet, letting you continue.

“I thought we were building something together,” you say, your voice thick with emotion. “I wanted to get married. I wanted kids. He said he did, too. But there was always something in the way — another season, another championship, another goal. And I kept waiting because I believed in him, in us.”

Your voice cracks, and you take a sip of the tea, letting the warmth soothe your throat. Max leans forward slightly, his blue eyes fixed on you with an intensity that’s both comforting and unnerving.

“And then last year …” You pause, trying to steady your voice. “He promised me that if he won his eighth title, he’d retire. That we’d finally start the life we talked about. And I believed him. I really believed him.”

Max’s jaw tightens, his knuckles pressing against his chin as he listens.

“But he didn’t win,” you continue, the memory still fresh, still raw. “And instead of keeping his promise, he said he couldn’t walk away. Not without that eighth.”

“Unbelievable,” Max mutters under his breath, shaking his head.

You glance at him, a bitter smile tugging at your lips. “I thought maybe I could wait. Maybe I could put my dreams on hold for him a little longer. But it wasn’t just about the title — it was about him always choosing racing over me, over us.”

Max leans back in his chair, his expression unreadable. “So you broke up.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” you say, your voice trembling. “I couldn’t keep waiting for someone who would never choose me.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and unspoken. You’ve said them to yourself before, in the quiet of your bedroom, in the midst of sleepless nights, but saying them out loud now feels different. More final.

“And now you’re here,” Max says after a moment, gesturing faintly toward the direction of the clinic outside the windows.

You nod, tears pricking at your eyes again. “I still want a family. I’ve always wanted that. And after everything with Lewis, I realized I can’t keep putting my life on hold for someone else. If I want a baby, I have to make it happen myself.”

Max stares at you, his lips pressed into a thin line. “I get it,” he says finally. “I do. But … I don’t know. It just feels wrong. Like, you shouldn’t have to do this alone.”

“I don’t have a choice,” you say, your frustration bubbling to the surface. “Not everyone gets a happy ending. Some of us just have to make do with what we have.”

He shakes his head, leaning forward again. “That’s not what I mean. I mean someone like you shouldn’t have to settle for this. You’re smart, beautiful, caring. Any guy would be lucky to have you. Hell, if it were me-”

He stops abruptly, his face coloring slightly as if realizing what he’s about to say.

“If it were you, what?” You ask, your voice softer now, curious.

He exhales, running a hand through his hair. “If it were me, I wouldn’t have made you wait. I wouldn’t have let you go, period. I would’ve dropped everything the second I got out of the car in Abu Dhabi.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut — not because they hurt, but because they’re so unexpected, so honest.

“You don’t mean that,” you say quietly, though your heart betrays you, fluttering in your chest.

Max’s gaze is unwavering. “I do. You deserve someone who sees you as their priority, not as something they’ll get to when it’s convenient. If I had someone like you …” He trails off, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t need anything else.”

The room falls silent, and you don’t know what to say. Your hands tighten around the mug, and you feel your cheeks flush under his intense stare.

“I’m sorry,” he says after a moment, leaning back. “That probably crossed a line.”

“No,” you say quickly, surprising even yourself. “It’s … nice to hear. I guess I just don’t believe it.”

“Why not?” He asks, his brows furrowing.

“Because if that were true, Lewis wouldn’t have left,” you admit, your voice breaking. “If I were really worth all that, he wouldn’t have walked away.”

Max shakes his head vehemently, leaning forward again. “That’s not on you. That’s on him. He couldn’t see what he had. That’s his loss, not yours.”

You blink back tears, his words cutting through the doubt and self-blame you’ve been carrying for so long.

“Look,” Max says softly, his voice gentle now. “You’re not alone in this, okay? I know it feels like it, but you’re not. And whatever you decide to do, just … don’t rush into it because you think you have to. You’ve got time, and you’ve got people who care about you.”

The sincerity in his voice almost breaks you all over again. You nod, unable to speak, and Max offers you a small, reassuring smile.

“Finish your tea,” he says, standing up and heading toward the kitchen. “I’ll grab us something stronger. Tea’s good for a talk, but this feels like a whiskey kind of conversation.”

You laugh softly, the sound surprising you. For the first time in a long time, the weight on your chest feels just a little bit lighter.

***

The first time you showed up at Max’s apartment unannounced, it was a particularly bad day. The ache in your chest had been unbearable, the quiet of your own place suffocating. You hadn’t even thought twice before texting him: You home?

His response came within seconds. Always. Door’s open.

You found him lounging on the couch, his two bengals sprawled out lazily beside him. When he saw you, he didn’t ask questions. He just stood, grabbed two Red Bulls from the fridge, and let you curl up on the floor to play with Jimmy and Sassy while he sat nearby, chatting about nothing in particular until the knot in your chest loosened.

It became a ritual after that. On the days when life felt too heavy, you’d make your way to Max’s. Sometimes you’d talk, sometimes you wouldn’t. But more often than not, you’d end up on the floor with the cats while Max watched with quiet amusement.

Tonight is one of those nights.

Jimmy pounces on the feather toy you’re dragging across the rug, his sleek body moving with a precision that reminds you of Max on the track. Sassy, the more aloof of the two, lounges nearby, watching her brother with disdain until she decides to join in.

You’re lying on your back now, laughing as the two cats leap over you, chasing the toy you’re holding above your head. It’s the first time you’ve laughed all day, maybe all week, and it feels good.

“Careful, Jimmy,” Max calls from the couch, his voice warm with affection. “She’s not a scratching post.”

You tilt your head to look at him, still holding the toy above you. He’s sitting sideways, one arm slung over the back of the couch, a faint smile playing on his lips.

“Jimmy would never hurt me,” you say, grinning as the cat lands lightly on your stomach before darting off again.

“Don’t let him fool you,” Max warns, shaking his head. “He’s a menace.”

“He’s perfect,” you counter, turning your attention back to the cats.

Max chuckles softly, but he doesn’t respond. You’re too distracted by Sassy’s sudden burst of energy to notice the way his gaze lingers on you, the way his smile fades into something softer, something deeper.

After a while, you sit up, your hair slightly disheveled and your cheeks flushed from laughing. Jimmy jumps into your lap, purring contentedly as you stroke his fur.

When you look up, Max is staring at you.

“What?” You ask, your brow furrowing.

He doesn’t answer right away. His eyes are warm, almost tender, and it takes you a moment to realize he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing in the room.

“Nothing,” he says finally, his voice quieter than usual. “You’re just … happy. I like seeing you like this.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you glance away, suddenly self-conscious. “It’s the cats,” you say lightly, trying to brush it off. “They’re good for my mental health.”

“It’s not just the cats,” Max says, and there’s something in his tone that makes you look at him again.

He’s leaning forward slightly now, his elbows resting on his knees, his gaze locked on yours. You feel your breath catch, the air in the room shifting, thickening.

“Max …” you start, but you don’t know how to finish the sentence.

“You don’t see it, do you?” He says softly, his voice almost reverent.

“See what?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“How incredible you are.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and unshakable. You stare at him, your heart pounding so loudly you’re sure he can hear it.

“Max, I …”

Before you can finish, he’s on the floor in front of you, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off him. He reaches out, his fingers brushing lightly against your cheek, and you don’t pull away.

“You’re amazing,” he says, his eyes searching yours. “You’re strong, and kind, and funny, and … God, Y/N, do you have any idea what you do to me?”

Your breath catches, and for a moment, you forget how to speak.

“Max,” you say finally, your voice trembling. “This … this is a bad idea.”

“Why?” He asks, his hand still resting against your cheek.

“Because I don’t want to ruin this,” you admit, your eyes filling with tears. “You’ve been my rock these past few months. I don’t want to lose that.”

“You won’t,” he says firmly. “I promise you, you won’t. But I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel this way.”

You’re silent, your heart warring with your head. But when he leans in, his lips brushing softly against yours, all your doubts fade away.

The kiss is gentle at first, hesitant, as if he’s afraid you might pull away. But when you don’t, he deepens it, his hand sliding into your hair as he pours everything he’s been holding back into the kiss.

When you finally pull apart, you’re both breathless, your foreheads resting against each other.

“Wow,” you whisper, your voice shaky.

Max chuckles softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Yeah. Wow.”

You stare at him, your mind racing. This wasn’t what you expected when you came here tonight, but now that it’s happened, you can’t bring yourself to regret it.

“Max,” you say softly, your voice filled with uncertainty.

“It’s okay,” he says, cutting you off. “We’ll figure this out, whatever it is. I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. I promise.”

And to your surprise, despite the broken promises still shattered beneath your feet, you really do believe him.

***

The bedroom is bathed in the soft golden glow of the evening lights spilling through the windows. The Monaco skyline twinkles faintly in the distance, but you’re not paying attention to it. You’re wrapped up in Max’s arms, his warmth seeping into you as his fingers draw lazy patterns on your back.

You’re lying on your side, your head resting against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His free hand brushes through your hair, the motion slow and soothing. Every so often, he leans down to press a kiss to the top of your head or your temple, murmuring something sweet against your skin.

“You’re quiet tonight,” he says, his voice low and gentle.

“I’m just … content,” you reply, tilting your head to look up at him. “This is nice.”

He smiles down at you, his blue eyes soft with affection. “Yeah, it is.”

His fingers trail up to your jaw, tilting your face up so he can kiss you. It’s slow and deliberate, the kind of kiss that makes your toes curl and sends warmth blooming in your chest.

When he pulls back, his lips linger near yours, his breath fanning against your skin. “You know, I could get used to this,” he says, a playful lilt in his voice.

“You mean you’re not used to it already?” You tease, nudging him lightly.

“I mean forever,” he says, and the sincerity in his tone makes your heart skip a beat.

You smile, your fingers idly tracing the lines of his collarbone. “Forever sounds nice.”

The silence that follows is comfortable, filled with the soft sounds of your breathing and the occasional distant hum of the city below.

After a moment, you glance up at him, your heart beating a little faster. “Max?”

“Hmm?” He hums, his fingers still trailing along your back.

“Have you ever thought about … kids?” You ask hesitantly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He stills for a moment, his hand pausing mid-motion before he shifts slightly to look down at you. “Kids?”

“Yeah,” you say, suddenly nervous. “Like, have you ever thought about having them?”

He doesn’t answer right away, his brows furrowing slightly as if considering your question. Then, to your surprise, he lets out a soft laugh.

“Honestly?” He says, his lips quirking into a small smile. “I’ve thought about it pretty much daily since I met you.”

Your eyes widen, and you push yourself up onto your elbow to look at him more closely. “Seriously?”

He chuckles, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Yeah. I mean, I wasn’t thinking about it before. But now? With you? I think about it all the time.”

“Max,” you whisper, your heart swelling at his words.

“I know it sounds crazy,” he continues, his hand sliding up to cup your cheek. “We haven’t been together that long, but … I don’t know. When you know, you know, right?”

You nod, unable to speak, your throat tight with emotion.

“And I know,” he says softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “You’re it for me, Y/N. There’s no one else. There’s never going to be anyone else.”

Tears sting at your eyes, and you laugh softly, leaning into his touch. “You’re really something, Max Verstappen.”

“I mean it,” he says, his voice steady and sure. “So … what do you think? Would you want to have a baby with me?”

You stare at him, your heart pounding in your chest. The question is so outlandish, so unexpected, and yet it feels right.

“You’re serious?” You ask, your voice trembling.

“Dead serious,” he says, a grin tugging at his lips. “You’re going to be an amazing mom. I can already see it.”

You laugh, covering your face with your hands as the weight of his words sinks in. “This is insane.”

“Maybe,” he says, pulling your hands away from your face. “But it feels right, doesn’t it?”

You look at him, at the way his eyes shine with hope and love, and you know he’s right.

“It does,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

He beams, his grin so wide it’s almost boyish. “So … is that a yes?”

You laugh, leaning down to kiss him. “Yes, Max. Let’s have a baby.”

He kisses you back, his arms wrapping around you as he pulls you closer. The kiss is different this time — deeper, more urgent, filled with the promise of what’s to come.

When you pull back, you’re both grinning like fools, your foreheads pressed together as you laugh softly.

“This is happening,” he says, his voice filled with awe.

“It is,” you reply, your heart swelling with joy.

“And just so you know,” he adds, his hands sliding down to rest on your hips. “I’m not leaving this bed until we make it happen.”

You laugh, swatting at his chest. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously in love with you,” he counters, flipping you onto your back as his lips find yours again.

The night stretches on for what feels like forever, filled with laughter, whispered promises, and the kind of love that feels like forever.

***

The moment you see the two pink lines on the test, your heart stops. For a second, you don’t breathe, don’t blink, don’t move. Then, a rush of emotions crashes over you all at once — joy, disbelief, terror, excitement. You sit on the edge of the tub in your bathroom, staring at the test in your shaking hands, trying to make sense of it.

“Max,” you whisper to yourself, and the thought of him steadies you.

He’s in the kitchen when you step out, his back to you as he busies himself with something at the stove. The faint smell of eggs and toast fills the air, but you can barely focus on it. Your hand tightens around the test in your pocket.

“Morning,” he says when he hears your footsteps, glancing over his shoulder with a soft smile. “Hungry? I made breakfast.”

You don’t answer, your feet rooted to the floor.

“Y/N?” He says, turning fully to face you now. “Everything okay?”

You nod, though you’re pretty sure you don’t look convincing. Your chest feels tight, and suddenly, you don’t know how to say the words.

“Hey,” he says softly, stepping closer. “What’s wrong?”

His hands find yours, grounding you in the way only he can. You take a deep breath and pull the test out of your pocket, holding it up between you.

Max stares at it for a moment, his eyes wide.

“Is that-”

“Yeah,” you say quickly, your voice trembling. “It’s positive.”

For a second, he doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. Then, a slow, disbelieving grin spreads across his face.

“We’re having a baby?” He asks, his voice almost a whisper.

You nod, your own tears welling up as you watch his expression shift from shock to pure, unfiltered joy.

“We’re having a baby,” you repeat, the words finally sinking in.

Max lets out a breathless laugh, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you off the ground. “Oh my God, Y/N, we’re having a baby!”

You laugh through your tears, clinging to him as he spins you around. When he finally sets you down, his hands frame your face, his eyes searching yours.

“Are you okay? How do you feel? Do you need anything? Oh my God, we need to call the doctor, right? That’s what we do next?”

“Max,” you say, cutting him off with a laugh. “I’m okay. We’ll figure it all out.”

“Okay,” he says, nodding quickly. “Okay. But, wow … we’re having a baby.”

The way he says it, like he can’t quite believe it, makes your heart swell.

From that moment on, Max is all in.

***

Max surprises you at every turn. Where you once thought the worlds of racing and family couldn’t coexist, he proves you wrong with every thoughtful gesture, every sacrifice, every time he puts you first.

At first, you hesitate to bring it up. You know how important racing is to him, how much of his life has been dedicated to it. You don’t want to be a distraction, don’t want to pull him away from something he loves.

But Max is quick to shut down any of those thoughts.

“You and this baby come first,” he says one night, his hand resting gently on your still-flat stomach. “Always.”

You blink at him, your throat tight. “You don’t have to say that, Max. I know how much racing means to you.”

“And I know how much you mean to me,” he counters, his voice firm. “This doesn’t have to be one or the other. We’ll make it work. I promise.”

And he does.

***

You don’t feel ready to travel yet, and Max doesn’t push you. He understands when you tell him you’re not ready to face the paddock, to face him. It’s still too raw, too soon. Max doesn’t question it.

“It’s okay,” he says, kissing your forehead. “You don’t need to explain. You do what’s best for you. I’ll come to you.”

And he does.

Even in the middle of the season, when his schedule is packed and his commitments are endless, Max never misses a single appointment. He’s always there, whether it’s for the early check-ups or the first ultrasound.

“Can you believe that’s our baby?” He whispers during the first scan, his voice filled with awe as he watches the tiny flicker of the heartbeat on the monitor.

You can’t answer, your own emotions overwhelming you. Instead, you squeeze his hand, and he leans over to press a kiss to your temple.

***

The weeks pass, and soon it’s time for the big ultrasound — the one where you’ll finally learn the baby’s gender. Max is in São Paulo for the Brazilian Grand Prix, and you’ve convinced yourself he won’t make it back in time.

“It’s okay,” you tell him over the phone the night before. “You’ve got a race to focus on. I’ll record everything for you.”

“Y/N,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I’m not missing this.”

“But-”

“I’ll be there,” he promises. “Trust me.”

True to his word, Max walks into the clinic the next afternoon, still in his favorite set of sweats for traveling, his hair slightly disheveled from the flight.

“Max,” you say, standing up from your chair in the waiting room, your heart swelling at the sight of him. “You made it.”

“Of course I did,” he says, pulling you into his arms. “I told you I would.”

The ultrasound room is quiet, save for the soft hum of the machine and the occasional click of the technician’s keyboard. You’re lying on the examination table, Max sitting beside you, holding your hand tightly.

“Are you ready to find out?” The technician asks, her eyes crinkling with a warm smile.

You glance at Max, and he nods, his excitement barely contained.

“Let’s do it,” you say.

The technician moves the wand across your stomach, and a moment later, the screen lights up with the image of your baby.

“Congratulations,” she says, her smile widening. “It’s a girl.”

A girl.

Max lets out a laugh, his hand flying to cover his mouth as he stares at the screen. “A girl,” he repeats, his voice filled with wonder. “We’re having a girl.”

You laugh through your tears, your heart full to bursting. Max leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, your nose, your lips.

“Thank you,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion.

“For what?” You ask, your own voice shaky.

“For this. For her. For everything,” he says, his eyes shining as he looks at you.

You don’t have the words to respond, so you just squeeze his hand, your heart so full it feels like it might burst.

And in that moment, you realize: Max was right. Racing and family don’t have to be at odds. They can coexist, as long as you have someone who’s willing to make it work. And Max? He’s more than willing. He’s all in. Always.

***

It’s been a long start to the season, and the 2024 championship is already shaping up to be a nail-biter. The RB20 is much more unwieldy than its predecessor, the points gap narrowing with a DNF in Australia. The pressure is on, and you know it. Max knows it too.

But despite everything — the late nights, the media frenzy, the endless travel — he never wavers in his commitment to you and the baby. Even as the world watches him fight for the title, Max’s focus always returns home.

As your due date approaches, the Japan Grand Prix weekend looms closer on the calendar. Suzuka is pivotal, everyone says. The kind of race that could determine the championship. The team is counting on Max to deliver.

But Max doesn’t seem fazed by any of it when you bring it up one evening in bed, your hand resting on your swollen belly while his fingers gently trace circles over the skin.

“You know Suzuka’s right around the corner,” you say hesitantly, watching his expression.

“Hmm,” he hums, his eyes focused on your stomach, his lips quirking into a small smile when he feels a kick.

“Max.”

He glances up at you, his gaze softening. “What’s wrong?”

You hesitate, unsure how to phrase it. “I just … I know it’s an important race. And my due date is so close. What if-”

“I’m not going to Japan,” he says firmly, cutting you off before you can spiral.

You blink at him, startled. “What?”

“I’ve already told Christian and Helmut. They’re putting Liam in the car for the weekend.”

“Max,” you whisper, your heart swelling. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I did,” he says, his voice steady. “This is our daughter we’re talking about. There’s no way I’m missing her arrival, not for any race, not for anything.”

Tears sting at your eyes, and you blink them back quickly. “But the championship-”

“Doesn’t matter as much as this,” he interrupts again, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Y/N, I love racing, but you and our baby? You’re everything. You’re my world. If I have to miss a race, so be it.”

You stare at him, your throat tight, and you can’t stop the tears this time. “I love you,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss him.

His hand cups your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. “I love you too. More than anything.”

***

When the weekend of the Japanese Grand Prix arrives, you’re still pregnant, and Max is at your side, refusing to let you lift a finger.

The race plays out on the television in the background while Max spends most of the day doting on you. He rubs your feet, makes you tea, and checks on the hospital bag for the millionth time, making sure everything is in order.

“Max, sit down,” you say, laughing softly as you watch him double-check the contents of the bag again.

“I just want to make sure we’re ready,” he says, zipping it up and placing it neatly by the door.

“We’re ready,” you assure him, patting the space next to you on the couch.

He finally sits, pulling you close and resting his hand on your belly. “You’re sure she’s not coming today?”

“She’s not on your schedule, Verstappen,” you tease, and he laughs, leaning in to kiss your temple.

***

But she does come.

Two days later, in the early hours of the morning, the first contraction wakes you. At first, you’re too groggy to register what’s happening, but when the second one hits, you gasp, clutching at the sheets.

“Max,” you manage to get out, shaking his shoulder.

He bolts upright, his eyes wide and alert. “What? What’s wrong?”

“I think … I think it’s time,” you say, your voice trembling.

Max is on his feet in an instant, grabbing the hospital bag and helping you out of bed with remarkable calmness for someone who was sound asleep just seconds ago.

“You okay?” He asks, his arm around your waist as he guides you to the car.

You nod, though your breaths are shallow. “Yeah. Just … hurry.”

***

The hours in the delivery room pass in a blur of pain and anticipation. Max never leaves your side, his hand gripping yours tightly through every contraction, his voice steady and reassuring as he encourages you.

“You’re amazing,” he says, brushing the hair from your sweaty forehead. “You’ve got this. Just a little more, liefje. You’re so strong.”

When the moment finally comes, and the sound of your daughter’s first cries fills the room, both of you dissolve into tears.

“She’s here,” Max whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “She’s really here.”

The nurse places the tiny, wriggling bundle in your arms, and you look down at her, overwhelmed by a love so powerful it takes your breath away. Max leans over your shoulder, his face close to hers, his tears falling freely now.

“She’s perfect,” he says, his voice breaking.

You glance up at him, your heart swelling as you see the pure adoration on his face. “She looks like you.”

“She looks like us,” he corrects, his fingers gently tracing the curve of her cheek.

***

When the nurse takes her to be weighed and cleaned up, Max stands frozen for a moment, watching her with wide eyes. Then, when they bring her back, he hesitates.

“You want to hold her?” You ask, smiling through your exhaustion.

He looks at you like you’ve just handed him the most precious thing in the world. “Can I?”

“Of course,” you say, carefully passing her to him.

Max cradles her in his arms, his movements slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving her face. He looks utterly awestruck, his tears still streaming down his cheeks as he rocks her gently.

“Hi, little one,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “I’m your papa. And I already love you more than anything.”

Your heart clenches as you watch him, the way he holds her like she’s the most fragile, most important thing in the world.

“You okay?” You ask softly, reaching out to touch his arm.

He nods, but when he looks at you, his expression is serious. “Y/N,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “If you or she ever said the word, I’d stop. I’d walk away from racing tomorrow and never look back.”

“Max-”

“I mean it,” he says, cutting you off gently. “I don’t need any of it. All I need is right here.”

Tears spill down your cheeks as you reach for his hand, your fingers lacing through his. “You don’t have to stop, Max. I don’t want you to. I just want you to be happy.”

“I am happy,” he says, his gaze dropping back to your daughter. “You and her — you’re everything.”

The three of you stay like that for a long time, wrapped up in each other and the overwhelming love that fills the room.

And as you watch Max rock your daughter, his eyes shining with tears and joy, you realize that this is it — this is the life you always dreamed of.

***

The Australian Grand Prix marks the beginning of the 2025 season, and the paddock is alive with its usual chaos: reporters shouting questions, cameras flashing, and engineers rushing to and from garages. But for you, it feels like an entirely different world as you step onto the paddock with your daughter perched on your hip.

She’s bundled in a tiny Red Bull jacket Max had custom-made, her baby blue eyes wide as she takes in the flurry of activity around her. She giggles as a gust of wind tousles her fine blonde curls, and you can’t help but smile, brushing them back into place.

“Are you sure about this?” You ask Max, who stands beside you, his hand resting lightly on your lower back.

He glances at you, his expression soft but resolute. “You’re my family. I want everyone to know.”

Your chest tightens, equal parts touched and nervous. “It’s just … people are going to talk.”

“Let them,” Max says simply, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. Then he shifts his attention to your daughter, gently tickling her chin. “Aren’t they, prinsesje? Let them say what they want.”

Her delighted squeal pulls a laugh from him, and for a moment, your nerves melt away.

But the attention is immediate. As soon as you cross into the paddock, a ripple of recognition sweeps through the crowd. Photographers pause, their lenses snapping up. Team personnel do double takes. Whispers spread like wildfire.

You’re prepared for it — at least, as much as you can be. What you’re not prepared for is running into Lewis.

You spot him before he sees you, standing just outside the Ferrari hospitality area in conversation with Fred Vasseur. Your stomach twists as you consider turning around, but before you can move, Lewis glances up.

He freezes.

His gaze locks on you, then drops to the baby in your arms, and his expression shifts from shock to something darker. He mutters something to Fred and strides toward you, his movements purposeful and tense.

“Y/N,” he says, stopping a few feet away. His eyes flicker to Max, who hasn’t left your side, and then back to you. “What … what’s this?”

You take a steadying breath. “Hello, Lewis.”

He ignores the pleasantries, his attention fixed on the child in your arms. “Is that your-” He stops, his jaw tightening. “Is that his?”

Max steps forward slightly, his hand now firm on your back. “Yes,” he says evenly, his voice calm but unyielding. “She is ours.”

Lewis’s eyes narrow, his gaze darting between you and Max. “How long has this been going on?”

“Lewis, I don’t think-”

“How long?” He snaps, his tone sharper now.

You glance at Max, who gives you a reassuring nod. Turning back to Lewis, you say, “A little over two and a half years.”

Lewis exhales sharply, shaking his head as if trying to process the information. “Two and a half years. So, what? You moved on that fast?”

“Don’t do that,” you say quietly, your grip tightening on your daughter. “It wasn’t fast. You know that.”

“Do I?” His voice is bitter, his expression unreadable. “Because from where I’m standing, it sure looks like you didn’t waste any time replacing me.”

Max stiffens beside you, but you place a hand on his arm, silently urging him to let you handle it.

“I didn’t replace you,” you say, your voice trembling despite your best efforts. “I moved on. There’s a difference.”

His gaze softens for a moment, flickering with something like hurt. But then he looks at Max again, and the hardness returns. “With him?”

“Yes,” you say firmly, your chin lifting.

Lewis laughs bitterly, running a hand over his face. “Unbelievable.”

“Lewis,” Max interjects, his tone measured but with an edge of steel. “This isn’t about you. It’s about her. And our daughter.”

“Your daughter,” Lewis repeats, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Right. And you think this is going to work? Bringing her into this circus?”

Max’s jaw tightens, but he stays calm. “It’s already working. She’s happy. We’re happy.”

Lewis scoffs, his eyes narrowing. “You think this is happiness? Dragging a baby into this environment? Do you even understand what kind of life you’re giving her?”

You step forward before Max can respond, your voice steady despite the tears threatening to spill. “Don’t you dare judge me. You don’t get to do that. Not after everything.”

Lewis falters, his anger giving way to a flicker of guilt. “I’m not trying to-”

“Yes, you are,” you interrupt. “I get it, okay? You’re hurt. But you don’t get to stand there and act like you know what’s best for me or my family. Not anymore.”

There’s a long, tense silence. Finally, Lewis looks away, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I just … I didn’t think it would end like this,” he mutters.

Neither did you. But you don’t say it. Instead, you adjust your daughter in your arms, her tiny fingers clutching at your jacket, grounding you.

“It’s not about how it ended,” you say softly. “It’s about how we move forward.”

Lewis looks at you, and for a moment, you see the man you loved — the man who promised you a future he could never give. His eyes drop to your daughter, and his expression shifts, softening in a way that makes your heart ache.

“She’s beautiful,” he says quietly, almost reluctantly.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

Max steps closer, his hand finding yours and squeezing gently. “We should go,” he says, his voice low but kind.

You nod, giving Lewis one last look before turning away.

***

In the Red Bull motorhome, you sink into a chair, your emotions crashing over you. Max kneels in front of you, his hands resting on your knees as he studies your face.

“You okay?” He asks, his voice gentle.

You nod, though tears blur your vision. “It’s just … hard. Seeing him. The way he looked at me.”

Max leans forward, pressing his forehead to yours. “You don’t owe him anything. Not your guilt, not your sadness. Nothing. You’re here with me now, with our daughter. That’s all that matters.”

His words soothe you, and you reach up to cup his face, your thumb brushing over his cheek. “I love you,” you whisper.

“I love you too,” he says, his voice unwavering. Then he glances at your daughter, who’s dozing peacefully in her stroller. “And I love her more than anything.”

You smile through your tears, your heart swelling with gratitude and love. No matter what challenges lie ahead, you know you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

***

Nine Months Later

The final race of the 2025 season is a sea of chaos and celebration. The Yas Marina Circuit glows under the floodlights, the air electric with cheers as Max steps onto the top of the podium for the fifth time in his career. Champagne sprays from the bottles, glistening under the lights, but Max barely seems to notice.

His eyes search through the crowd, scanning the blur of faces until they land on you. There you are, cradling your daughter in your arms, her little Red Bull ear protectors sitting snugly over her head. She’s clapping her hands in that uncoordinated, infant-like way that makes his chest ache with love. And you — God, you. Your smile is soft but radiant, tears glinting in your eyes as you look up at him.

Max feels his heart tighten, his grip on the champagne bottle slackening. He’s been chasing dreams for as long as he can remember — titles, wins, perfection on the track. But now, looking at you and the life you’ve built together, he knows none of it compares to what he has waiting for him off the podium.

He knows what he has to do.

As the podium ceremony winds down, Max fumbles at the inside pocket of his race suit. His fingers brush over the small velvet box he’s carried with him for weeks, waiting for the right moment. This is it. There’s no better time.

Lando Norris, standing to Max’s right after clinching second place, notices his movement and raises a brow. “What are you up to?”

Max doesn’t answer, too focused on what’s coming next. His fingers close around the box, and his pulse quickens.

He steps forward, champagne still dripping from his suit, and motions to the crowd below. “Can we … can someone help her up here?” He calls, his voice cracking slightly with emotion.

You blink, confused, as several Red Bull mechanics glance at each other before moving to you. One of them gestures toward the podium. “Come on,” he says, grinning. “You’re part of this moment.”

“What? No, I-” you stammer, clutching your daughter closer. “I’m fine here-”

“Y/N,” Max says from above, his voice carrying across the noise. His tone is warm but insistent. “Please. Come up.”

Your heart races as you glance around, overwhelmed by the attention, but the mechanics are already helping guide you to the platform. Before you know it, you’re being hoisted onto the podium, your feet landing on the cool metal as you steady yourself.

Max steps toward you, his eyes locked on yours. His gaze is tender, but there’s a flicker of nerves there, too. The crowd’s roar dulls in your ears as he takes a deep breath, his focus entirely on you.

“Y/N,” he begins, his voice trembling slightly. He drops to one knee, the champagne bottle rolling away unnoticed. In his hand is the small velvet box, now open to reveal a sparkling diamond ring.

The crowd erupts.

Your breath catches.

“Y/N,” Max says again, louder this time, his blue eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I once thought winning a championship would be the best moment of my life. But then I saw you. Holding our daughter, looking at me like that, and I realized the best thing I’ve ever done has nothing to do with racing. It’s us. It’s you. It’s her.”

Tears blur your vision, your hand covering your mouth as you stare down at him.

“I love you,” he continues, his voice cracking. “I love you more than anything in this world. You’ve given me everything I never knew I needed. You’re my family, Y/N, and I don’t want to wait another second to make it official.”

He swallows hard, his hands shaking as he holds the ring toward you. “Will you marry me?”

For a moment, everything seems to stop. The crowd, the cameras, the other drivers — it all fades away. All you can see is Max, his face open and vulnerable in a way you’ve rarely seen. The man who’s always so composed under pressure, the fierce competitor, is looking at you with nothing but love and hope.

“Yes,” you whisper, your voice breaking. Then, louder. “Yes, Max. Yes!”

The crowd explodes into cheers as Max lets out a breathless laugh, his face lighting up in relief and joy. He stands quickly, wrapping one arm around your waist while slipping the ring onto your finger with the other. It fits perfectly.

Before you can say anything else, Max cups your face and kisses you, his lips warm and urgent against yours. The kiss is met with an even louder roar from the crowd, but all you can focus on is him — the way his hands tremble slightly, the way he pulls you closer as if afraid to let go.

Your daughter giggles in your arms, and Max pulls back just enough to glance down at her. He grins, brushing a thumb over her cheek. “What do you think, prinsesje? Did Papa do okay?”

She babbles something incomprehensible, and the three of you laugh.

***

Later, in the quiet of his driver’s room, the chaos of the podium ceremony behind you, Max pulls you into his lap as you sit together on the small sofa. Your daughter sleeps soundly in her stroller nearby, her tiny chest rising and falling in rhythm.

Max toys with the ring on your finger, his expression thoughtful. “You know,” he says, his voice soft, “I’ve won a lot of things in my life. But this … this is my greatest victory.”

You smile, resting your forehead against his. “You’re pretty good at making me cry today, Verstappen.”

He chuckles, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Get used to it. I plan on spending the rest of my life making you cry happy tears.”

You hum, leaning into his touch. “Good. Because I plan on spending the rest of my life loving you.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead, his arms tightening around you. “Deal.”

And in that moment, with Max holding you close and your daughter sleeping nearby, you realize that this — this is your podium. Your victory. Your forever.

***

The night is impossibly quiet for Abu Dhabi, the hum of the city dulled by the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse suite. The celebrations are over, the crowds dispersed, and now it’s just the three of you. Your daughter sleeps soundly in her cot near the foot of the bed, her tiny face relaxed in peaceful dreams.

You’re wrapped up in Max’s arms, the weight of the day finally catching up with both of you. His chest is warm against your back, his heartbeat steady as his fingers lazily trace patterns on your arm. The ring on your finger catches the faint glow of the bedside lamp, a small, perfect reminder of the life-changing moment you shared hours ago.

“You’re quiet,” you murmur, shifting slightly to glance up at him.

Max’s gaze is soft, his blue eyes fixed on you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters. “Just thinking,” he says, his voice low and a little hoarse from the day’s shouting and champagne sprays.

“About?”

He pauses, his fingers stilling on your skin. You can feel the hesitation in him, the way his body tenses ever so slightly. It’s not like Max to be unsure — he’s always been decisive, charging into life with the same fearless determination he has on the track.

“Max?” You press gently, turning fully to face him now. “What’s on your mind?”

He exhales a long breath, running a hand through his messy hair. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” he starts, his accent curling warmly around the words. “But after today … I think I’m ready.”

“Ready for what?”

His hand moves to yours, thumb brushing over the ring he gave you just hours earlier. He stares at it for a moment before meeting your gaze, his eyes clear and steady.

“I’m going to retire,” he says softly.

The words hit you like a jolt. For a second, you’re sure you misheard him. “Retire?” You repeat, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nods, his expression unwavering. “Yeah. I’m done.”

“Max,” you say, your brow furrowing. “You just won your fifth title. You’re at the peak of your career. Why would you …”

He shifts slightly, sitting up so he can look at you more directly. “Because I don’t need it anymore,” he says simply. “I’ve achieved everything I ever wanted in racing. More than I ever thought I could. But now …” He pauses, his gaze flicking briefly to the cot where your daughter sleeps. “Now I have something I want more.”

Your chest tightens, emotions swirling in a chaotic mess you can’t quite untangle. “Are you sure? I mean, Max, this is huge. Racing has been your entire life.”

“I know,” he says, his voice calm but firm. “And I’ll always love it. But I don’t want to spend the next ten or fifteen years chasing something I don’t need, not when it means missing out on moments with you. With her.” He nods toward your daughter, his face softening.

You sit there in stunned silence, trying to process what he’s saying. “But what about the team? And your fans? You love the thrill of it, the competition-”

“Y/N,” he cuts you off gently, reaching for your hand again. “I love you more. I love our family more. And I don’t want to be the kind of dad who’s always gone, always distracted. I’ve seen what that does. I don’t want that for her.”

His words hit you square in the chest, a wave of emotion crashing over you. Tears prick at your eyes as you search his face, looking for any sign of doubt or hesitation. But all you see is love and certainty.

“You’re really serious about this,” you say softly, your voice trembling.

He nods. “I’ve thought about it for months. After last season, I told myself I’d give it one more year. One more title. And then I’d walk away. Today, seeing you and her in the crowd, knowing everything we’ve built together … it made me realize I’m ready.”

You reach up to cup his face, your thumb brushing over the stubble on his jaw. “Max … I don’t even know what to say.”

“Say you’re okay with it,” he says, a small, teasing smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Say you’ll let me stay home and annoy you every day.”

A laugh escapes you, watery but real. “I think I can handle that.”

He leans forward, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “Good. Because this is what I want, Y/N. You, her, our life together. That’s enough for me. More than enough.”

For a while, you just sit there in the quiet, wrapped up in each other. Your mind is still racing, but your heart feels full, overflowing with love for the man beside you.

“So,” you say after a moment, your voice lighter, “what’s the plan? Are you going to call Christian in the middle of the night and drop this bombshell on him?”

Max chuckles, the sound vibrating against your skin. “I’ll give him a day or two to recover from the title celebrations first. Then I’ll tell him.”

“And how do you think he’s going to take it?”

“Oh, he’ll try to talk me out of it,” Max says, rolling his eyes. “He’ll tell me I’m too young, that I’ve got years left in me, that I can win even more. But I’ve already made up my mind.”

You smile, resting your head against his chest. “He’s going to miss you. They all will.”

“I’ll miss them too,” he admits. “But this isn’t goodbye forever. I’ll still be around — just not on the grid.”

“And me?” You ask, your voice teasing. “What if I’m not ready to have you home all the time?”

Max grins, his hand sliding around your waist to pull you closer. “Too late. You’re stuck with me now.”

As the night stretches on, the weight of the day starts to fade, replaced by a quiet sense of peace. Max lies back against the pillows, pulling you with him until you’re nestled against his side.

“You know,” he murmurs, his voice drowsy but warm, “I used to think racing was everything. That I’d be lost without it.”

“And now?” You ask, your fingers tracing lazy circles on his chest.

“Now I know it was just a part of me. A big part, yeah, but not the most important one. Not anymore.” He pauses, his hand brushing over your hair. “You and her … you’re my everything now.”

Tears sting your eyes again, but this time they’re tears of joy. “Max,” you whisper, your voice catching. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” he says, his words a soft promise against your skin.

And as you drift off to sleep, wrapped in his arms, you know that no matter what the future holds, you’ll face it together.

***

The room buzzes with an electric energy, the kind that only the FIA Prize Giving Ceremony can create. It’s a night to honor champions, to toast to a season of victories, and to revel in the highs of motorsport. The crowd is a mix of drivers, team principals, engineers, and journalists, all dressed to the nines. You’re seated in the front row, a place reserved for the most important people in the room.

Max is on stage, holding his freshly polished World Championship trophy, the applause still roaring from the moment his name was called. His tuxedo fits him like a glove, and there’s a boyish grin on his face that makes him look impossibly proud — and a little nervous.

In your lap, your daughter wiggles, her tiny hands clutching at the hem of your sparkling gown. She’s too young to understand what’s happening, but the excitement of the room has her wide-eyed and curious. You adjust her slightly, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead as you watch Max step up to the microphone.

“Wow,” Max begins, his voice carrying over the hushed murmurs of the crowd. “What a year. What a … career.”

There’s a ripple of surprise at his choice of words. You feel it too, a sharp intake of breath as he pauses. He hasn’t told anyone outside of your family and a select few about his decision yet, and it hits you that this is the moment.

“I want to start by saying thank you,” Max continues, his accent thick with emotion. “To everyone who made this season possible. To my team at Red Bull — Christian, Helmut, GP, the engineers, the mechanics — every single person who has been part of this journey. We did this together. Five championships in the last five years … it still feels surreal.”

The room breaks into another round of applause, but Max raises a hand to quiet them.

“But tonight isn’t just about this trophy or this season,” he says, his voice steady despite the emotion creeping into it. “It’s about something bigger. About knowing when it’s time to close one chapter and start another.”

Your heart races, and you tighten your hold on your daughter as Max’s words hang in the air.

“When I was a kid, all I ever wanted was to race,” Max says, his gaze sweeping over the crowd. “I grew up at circuits, watching my dad, dreaming of being in Formula 1. And for the last decade, this sport has been my whole life. It’s given me everything. It’s taught me more than I ever imagined — about hard work, about resilience, about pushing beyond what you think is possible.”

He pauses, his eyes flicking down to where you’re sitting. The faintest smile plays on his lips as your gazes meet, and you see the love and certainty there.

“But these past two years,” he continues, his voice softening, “I learned something else. That as much as I love this sport, there’s something I love more. Someone I love more.”

The murmurs in the crowd grow louder, heads turning to you. You feel your cheeks flush, but you keep your focus on Max, your heart pounding.

“Last season, I became a father,” Max says, his tone warming with pride. “And it changed everything. It changed the way I see the world, the way I see myself, and the way I think about my future. I realized that as much as I love racing, I don’t want to miss the little moments … the things that really matter.”

The room falls completely silent, everyone hanging on his every word.

“So,” Max says, his voice unwavering now, “tonight, as I accept this trophy, I also want to announce that this was my last season in Formula 1.”

Gasps ripple through the crowd, followed by stunned silence. Your daughter squirms in your arms, oblivious to the magnitude of what’s just been said.

Max smiles faintly, taking in the shocked faces in the room. “I know it might seem sudden,” he says, “but this is something I’ve thought about for a long time. I’ve achieved everything I could have dreamed of in this sport. I’ve worked with the best team in the world, competed against the best drivers in the world, and I leave with no regrets. But now, it’s time for me to focus on the next chapter of my life. On my family.”

He glances down at you again, and this time his gaze lingers. “Y/N, you and our daughter … you’re my everything. You’ve given me a reason to look beyond the racetrack, and for that, I’ll always be grateful.”

Your vision blurs with tears, and you can’t help but smile up at him. The crowd erupts into applause, some people rising to their feet in admiration and respect.

After a moment, Max raises a hand again, signaling for quiet. “I want to thank the fans,” he says, his voice growing steadier. “You’ve been with me through every win, every loss, every crazy overtake and late-breaking move. You’ve pushed me to be better every single day. And while I won’t be on the grid next season, I’ll always be part of this sport. It’s in my blood, and it always will be.”

The applause grows even louder this time, the room filling with a wave of emotion and admiration. You clap along, your daughter bouncing slightly in your arms at the sound.

When Max steps down from the stage, he comes straight to you. The cameras follow his every move, the flashes almost blinding as he crouches in front of you.

“You okay?” He asks, his voice low enough that only you can hear.

You nod, your throat too tight with emotion to speak.

He reaches for your daughter, lifting her into his arms with ease. She giggles, grabbing at the shiny lapel of his tuxedo, and Max laughs softly, the sound breaking through the tension in the room.

“We did it,” he says, his eyes locking with yours.

You lean forward, pressing your forehead against his. “We did,” you whisper back.

***

The rest of the night is a blur of congratulations, handshakes, and emotional farewells. But through it all, Max stays by your side, his arm around your waist or his hand in yours.

As the event winds down, you find yourselves back in the car, your daughter sleeping peacefully in her car seat. The city lights blur past the windows, and Max leans back against the seat, exhaling deeply.

“That went better than I thought,” he says, his voice tinged with relief.

“You were incredible,” you tell him, resting your head on his shoulder.

He glances down at you, his expression soft. “Are you happy?”

You smile, lacing your fingers with his. “More than I ever thought I could be.”

And as the car carries you through the quiet streets, you realize that this is just the beginning of a new adventure — the one Max always knew was waiting for him.

***

Two Years Later

Lewis doesn’t plan to be on this street. He’s never liked taking the busy Monaco thoroughfares, even after all these years of calling the principality home. But a morning run had turned into aimless wandering, and now he’s here, jogging along the promenade, music blasting in his ears, trying to clear his head.

The past two years since Max retired have been strange. No fierce wheel-to-wheel battles with Verstappen, no reminders on the track of the rivalry that defined his career for so long. And yet, Max still lingers in his thoughts — like an echo, a shadow, a specter. Every headline about the Verstappens pops up in his feed: Max is spotted at home with his family. Max is thriving in retirement.

But it’s not Max that Lewis thinks about most. It’s you. It’s always been you.

Lewis slows his pace as he nears the bakery that used to be your favorite. He has no idea if you still come here, or if Monaco even feels like home to you anymore. He shakes his head, chastising himself for thinking like this. You’re gone. You’ve been gone.

But then, he hears it. A child’s voice, high-pitched and sweet, chattering happily. He instinctively looks over, and his feet stop moving altogether.

There you are.

You’re walking hand-in-hand with Max. Max, who looks completely at peace, a little older but no less recognizable. Beside him, a little girl. She’s animated as she talks to him, her tiny hand curled securely around his. And then, there’s the stroller. A navy blue, high-tech design Lewis recognizes from catalogs. Inside is a baby boy, fast asleep, his chubby face serene as he snoozes against the soft fabric.

Lewis feels the air leave his lungs.

You don’t see him. You’re busy talking to Max, laughing at something he says. You’re dressed casually, a flowy sundress swaying around your knees, sunglasses perched on your nose. Your free hand rests on the stroller handle, the gesture almost instinctive. The sight of you like this — effortless, happy, and surrounded by a family — sends a sharp pang through Lewis’ chest.

It’s everything he could’ve had. Everything he pushed away.

His feet are rooted to the spot. He should turn around, jog in the other direction, forget he ever saw you. But he can’t. He watches, transfixed, as your daughter stops mid-sentence to look up at you. “Mama,” she says brightly, tugging Max’s hand. “Can I have a croissant?”

Max chuckles. “You already had one,” he tells her, his voice gentle.

“But they’re so good!” She says, throwing her head back dramatically.

Lewis can’t stop staring. The little girl is Max’s spitting image, but there’s something about her smile, the way her nose scrunches, that reminds him of you.

And then, she notices him.

Your daughter’s bright eyes land on Lewis, and she grins like she’s just seen a new friend. “Hello!” She says, waving enthusiastically with her free hand.

You glance up, confused at first, following her gaze. Lewis freezes.

But it’s not him you’re looking at. It’s a man unloading bags from his car in front of him, and you nod politely before turning back to Max and your daughter.

Lewis exhales shakily, a mix of relief and a pang of disappointment. He steps back, half-hidden by the awning of a nearby café, watching as you and Max resume walking.

The little girl waves once more, still beaming, before Max gently nudges her along. “Come on, prinsesje,” he says. “Let’s not keep your brother waiting for his nap to be over.”

Lewis stays there, unmoving, as you all walk away. He watches the way Max leans toward you, saying something that makes you laugh again. He watches the way your daughter skips a little ahead, still clutching Max’s hand, her voice bubbling with excitement as she points to a pigeon fluttering by. And he watches you look down at the stroller, adjusting the blanket over the baby boy who sleeps so peacefully, oblivious to everything around him.

It’s a picture-perfect scene. A life filled with love and joy, one that Lewis now realizes — painfully, completely — he could have been part of.

The memories flood in uninvited.

The nights spent on this same Monaco promenade with you, your hand slipping into his as you admired the lights reflecting off the water. The quiet mornings when you’d sit at the kitchen counter, sipping coffee and talking about what life might look like after racing. The promises he made and didn’t keep.

He thinks about the last time he saw you, about the anger and hurt in your eyes, about the way he walked out that night because he couldn’t bring himself to say the words you needed to hear. And now, here you are — walking down this same street with someone who isn’t afraid to put you first.

Lewis sinks onto a nearby bench, running a hand over his face. His chest feels tight, his breathing shallow. He thinks he’s moved on, that he’s made peace with the choices he’s made. But seeing you, seeing your family — it’s a wound he didn’t even realize was still open.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, staring at the spot where you disappeared from view. Minutes? Hours? Long enough for his playlist to loop back to the beginning.

A group of tourists wanders past, laughing and snapping photos of the marina. Lewis doesn’t look up. He stays on the bench, shoulders slumped, the weight of what he’s lost pressing down on him.

By the time he makes it back to his apartment, the sun is setting over Monaco, casting the city in hues of orange and gold. He heads straight for the balcony, leaning heavily on the railing as he stares out at the water.

It should be a beautiful view, but tonight it feels empty.

For years, racing has been his everything. It’s been his escape, his purpose, his identity. But now, for the first time, he wonders if it was worth it.

Because no trophy, no title, no amount of glory could fill the space you once inhabited.

And for the first time, Lewis feels like the one who’s been left behind.

I don't know if I should cry or feel relieved that she got rid of her boyfriend, I just know that I would love to see the continuation of the reader with the boys😍

New Thrall

AU: Star is the sire, reader gets cucked by her terrible boyfriend Michael (or was he just under her thrall?), also no laddie bc these Headcanons are NSFW, Star is a girl boss but at what cost 🥲

Bro I just hurt my own feelings oml, this wasn’t intentional but hey @britany1997 I got some more headcanons for you lol

Warnings: angst, cucking, reader gets treated like a trading card, and toy, hints at dubcon/noncon, hints at hypno

-it started on your first night in Santa Carla, hand in hand with your boyfriend Michael you took in the sights around you.

-the distance between you two was cold, on the outside, you still looked madly in love with each other, but honestly the passion had dried up months ago.

-you two had found each other just when your lives seemed to fall apart. While Michael’s home life was somewhat elevated when his parents got a divorce, your home life only got worse.

-you two were mostly friends now, you were hanging on to the lingering affection you two had shared and Michael was comfortable, you two got along, both his brother and mother loved you, and it’s not like he had any better options. So when you got kicked out of your house while they were packing up to leave for Santa Carla, Michael allowed you to tag along. Despite the withering chemistry between you two.

-and then Michael, seemingly transfixed on something, or someone, dashed out of the concert venue, with both Sam and you following behind.

-you didn’t notice who he was following and Sam wouldn’t tell you either, only looking at Michael with increasingly obvious worry.

-brushing you off, Michael went off on his own, so you tagged along with Sam to the comic store, Sam trying to lift your spirits.

-to be fair, Sam did succeed, until you met back up with Michael who was practically drooling over some bikers.

-no not the bikers, but a beautiful girl with one of the bikers.

-this had disturbed you for obvious reasons, so much so you followed him out to the boardwalk the next night.

-you helped him pick out a ‘rocker’ outfit, bitterly swallowing the implications of this and before you could work up the courage to break up, already seeing the alarm bells, the beautiful girl had whispered something in his ear and it was like you didn’t exist anymore.

-You were panicking now, you rode on Michael’s bike, and it was clear how he could and would abandon you here in order to impress the new girl. As the bikers from before invited Michael to the ‘Hudson’s bluff’

-before he could drive away with ‘Star’ in tow you asked how will you get home urgently, looking in Michael’s eyes, trying to find any indication that it crossed his mind.

-instead, his eyes were cloudy, as if he was completely high, or on auto pilot. As one of the bikers asked who you were, and Michael quickly answered ‘a friend’

-it was Star who suggested that you come with, despite wanting nothing more than to crawl your way back home, catching her eyes suddenly and now it was like following them was the only choice you had despite the sinking feeling you had in your stomach.

-reaching the cave you look around in wonder, perhaps too long, as when you go to sit down you realise that all the seats were taken, with only the couch in the corner away from everyone was available.

-fortunately, depending on how you view it, the bikers were more then willing to drag you onto one of their laps, with the spikes haired blonde, who you learned was Paul, winning out. Squeezed between Marko and Dwayne, you were almost boxed in. It felt claustrophobic as the three boys teased you, only to be mostly ignored as you watch Michael and Star whisper to each other. Paul pinched at your sides, chuckling at your squeaks and grumbles as you heartbrokenly watch your boyfriend and Star.

-Michael didn’t look your way once, even as you were being practically groaped by these bikers. It was actually Star, who even looked your way, but she only smiled with smug sympathy. Nodding towards Marko who brought over a finely decorated bottle. Michael drank from it eagerly, and Star climbed into his lap, straddling him. He only groaned with delight as she grinds her hips down. You truly couldn’t believe your eyes. Everyone was quiet as they watched the scene unfold.

- “Michael?” Star asked. “Yes?” He replied breathlessly. “She’s your girlfriend isn’t she?” Neither of them looked at you. Michael didn’t hesitate to answer yes this time, which filled you with false hope. Only to cruelly break you back down into reality as Star asked. “Do you want her?” “No. I only want you!” He didn’t hesitate. Star giggled as if he was telling a joke, and Michael beamed at her laugh. You wanted to die.

-“If you don’t want her, can my boys have her? They seemed to have taken a liking to her, and they’ve behaved so well recently” Michael grinds his hips up, smiling as Star leans down to kiss him. “Yes I don’t care.”

-you try to leap up to leave, but Paul’s arms were like vice. Star turns to the boys, looking past you as if you weren’t there. “I want her to watch.” Meeting your eyes briefly, you were suddenly compelled to follow her command.

-you watch horrified, as Michael undos Star’s shirt, kissing up her stomach reverently. His hands teasing at her flesh, palming at her breasts. Star’s head rolls back as she moans sweetly.

-Standing on shaking legs, she hikes her skirt up enough so that you can see her hook a leg around his shoulder, and he eagerly starts to lick and suck at her pussy.

-the sounds of suckling and kissing was echoing off the cave walls as Star moaned in earnest.

-you couldn’t look away but your eyes watered as you remember how Michael refuted you on returning the favour as you had sucked him off many times before.

-Star’s hips shake and buck onto his waiting mouth as she grabs his curly hair, his own hands grabbing and squeezing her ass.

-“ah! Ah! Ah!” Star moaned loudly, giggling as she looked down on your heartbroken face, having no choice to meet her eye. “Your ex is- ahh~ quite talented, I’m sure you must be disappointed yeah? You really don’t have to worry, I’ll satisfy him so he won’t stray. It’s your job now to satisfy my boys, pay close attention to my lesson so they won’t leave you too!”

-Star giggles between her moans, on a high that’s only reaching higher. She didn’t doubt her boys would be quite taken with you, but she’d be lying if your humiliated crying face didn’t turn her on.

-letting herself cum while she humps Michael’s face, he eagerly helps her ride it out, as the sound of her moaning and Michael’s work drowns out your small sobs.

-she lifts her leg off his shoulder, her hand rubbing at his cheek fondly. She could take him back to her nest now, but she wanted to ‘teach’ you, break both you and Michael by the time she’s done.

-you watch as Star unbuckles his belt, his cock popping out quickly from his underwear and Star immediately sinks down. This time Michael moans loudly, he had always been sensitive.

-Star starts riding him with no hesitation nor does she break a sweat, kissing him sweetly as they get lost in eachother.

-you can feel the others get restless under you, pinching and fondling sensitive areas but you were not allowed to look away.

-sounds of their hips slapping together was deafening as she speeds up, Michael thrusting up to meet her.

-they both cum together, something you thought only happened in cheesy erotica novels, and they continue going. Michael rolling over her to thrust into her lewdly.

-from this angel you can see the cum gush out of her but she only smiles happily.

-rolling her had to the side to face the others, Michael kisses down her neck. Speaking brokenly as she’s pounded into the couch, she gives her boys the green light.

-looking back at you she says “you’ll let them indulge until they’re satisfied right? That’s what’s really important here, it’s not like you have a boyfriend anymore.”