#dutch x Daughter!reader

[sweets-fanfics]

Homecoming 24

Word count: 2624

Warning: Violence, animal loss

AN: Hey, it’s been a minute. I wrote this up last night. Lmk if you used to be tagged and you want to be tagged again. Thank you and please lmk what you think. (chapter after the cut :))

I bent down next to my father as he looked into the binoculars. He mustn’t have heard me because he jumps as I speak, “Why are you getting in this mess?”

“Daughter! Glad of you to join us. I honestly didn’t expect it.” 

“I’m only here to make sure you don’t get anyone killed.”

Dutch sighs and sits up, “I’m glad you have so much faith in me.”

I could see a wagon followed by four men on horses. “You aren’t trying to kill them are you?”

“Of course not, dirty thing, murder is.” He says waving me off.

“I highly doubt that as of late.” 

Dutch rolled his eyes and sighed again, “We will not have this discussion now. First, we must help these people get free.”

“Dutch, I don’t think getting involved is what we need right now.” I grabbed both my pistols and my bolt action rifle. “I just don’t want any danger brought to the camp.”

“Is that why you’ve been staying away?”

“I don’t feel safe in the camp right now for obvious reasons.” 

He opened his mouth to speak but a young native man cut him off, “They’re coming.”

“What are we going to be doing?” I ask the boy.

“We will be messing with him, and taking their payroll.”

I gave Dutch a dirty look, “Is he joking?”

“No, he’s not. But the money is all going to them.”

I groaned and stopped walking as the two walked ahead. I could sense two bodies stopping next to me. I glanced to either side to see Arthur and Charles both looking as irritated as I felt. 

“Do we help?” Charles asks. He and I both glance up at Arthur. 

“I guess… but don’t kill anyone. Or at least try not to.” 

Eagles Flies walks to the cart of explosives to help the other natives as Arthur catches up to Dutch. Dutch, already holding some explosives has a huge smirk on his face, “It’s perfect Arthur. We let them do most of the work and everyone will be too worried about the ‘Native problem’ that they won’t see us floating up the river to freedom.”

Charles looks visibly disgusted as Dutch carries on. “That’s horrible,” I mumble mainly to myself.

“Y/N why not help your husband put dynamite in the trees.” Dutch orders, oblivious to everyone's disgust with his grand plan.

“We’re using them?” Arthur asks, hoping he misheard Dutch.

“Not exactly.” Dutch tries to say

“These are good people,” Arthur says over him, “We could help these people.” 

Dutch side eyes me as if I spoke, “Let's just get this done.” He mumbles annoyed.

Eagles Flies Yells from the top of the cliff that we needed to hurry. Arthur mumbles for me to hold the end of the spool as he walks it across the road. I hold on to it as Arthur and dutch walk to each tree and attach the wire to the dynamite Dutch hangs on the trees. As they get further I see Dutch say something to Arthur that makes him stop in his tracks and look back at me. He’s just barely far enough away that I can’t quite read his expression.

“That should be enough, come back up here.” Eagles yells from the top of the cliff. The men stop and walk back towards me. Charles had already started to head back up.

Arthur gently takes the wire I was holding and starts to walk back up making sure I follow. “Dutch says the law caught Colm.” He states. His back is towards me so I still don’t understand his reaction.

“And? Only took them a few years.”

“They are gonna hang him in Saint Denis soon.” He finally peaks over his shoulder at me. “He’s gonna go watch 'cause he thinks his men are gonna try to break him out. He wants me to go.”

“And me?” I asked already guessing the answer.

“He uh… He said it’s not much of a thing a mother should be at.” I rolled my eyes. “I told him okay, but, I won’t tell ya no.” We gave each other both the same knowing smile.

“Sounds like a date.” 

  —---------

We made it back up to the cliff with everyone. I notice all the men putting on bandanas over their faces. “I thought we were just talking?” I asked realizing I don’t have a bandana.

“We are,” Dutch confirms, “But as you know some of us are outlaws and we do plan on humiliating them a little bit as well.” 

Arthur opens his bag and pulls out a black bandana, “Here, I have an extra.”  He ties it around my neck softly then pulls it over my nose, “Very pretty.” He jokes.

“This feels weird,” I admit.

“You get used to it,” Arthur mumbles.

“There’s more than we thought,” Eagles states sounding a bit nervous.

“It’s alright.” Dutch assures him, “Just means more ears to listen to our cause.”

“Our..?” I hear Charles say from somewhere behind me. 

Arthur finishes connecting the wire to the plunger detonator. As Eagles Flies warns his men to wait for his signal. All is quiet as we wait for the Army to get into the perfect position. 

The caravan passes past the first charge and Dutch gives Arthur the go-ahead. As they go off all the soldiers either hit the ground and cover their heads or try to calm the horses they are riding. 

Everyone on the cliff stands and aims their guns at the soldiers. “You’re surrounded. Don’t move.” Eagle demands the soldiers below. “Your humiliation of us has gone on too long.”

“You are making a mistake, boy.” The Soldier that seems to be in charge yells up. 

“You’re the ones making the mistake.” Dutch adds. 

“What happened to letting them do everything?” I aim my rifle at the soldiers.

“Who are you?” The soldier yells back.

“A concerned citizen.” I can hear Dutch’s smile. He’s enjoying this too much. 

I glance at Arthur and Charles who both also don’t look happy Dutch spoke up. “We should move,” Arthur suggests. 

As if proving his point, one of the soldiers fires toward us. I freeze as I feel the bullet buzz past me. Arthur yanks me back from the ledge by my arm as Dutch yells at the soldiers for shooting first and then fires back at them starting a firefight.

“Are you okay?” Arthur asks quickly.

“I’m fine, just shocked me for a second.” I can tell he wants to tell me to take off but I walk back to the edge and start taking out soldiers before he can even get a word in. 

As everyone fires back and forth I hear Eagle say his father isn’t going to be happy. I feel bad that my fathers' obsession with needing to cause drama will just make life harder for these people. 

I look to my left and see another patrol heading to us fast to assist the other soldiers. “More coming on the rear,” I announce out loud to everyone. When only Charles seems to hear me I groan and put my rifle away and grab my pistol. “Fuck it, I’ll handle it.”

Arthur hears me that time as he turns and watches me stomp towards the train the soldiers are climbing to get to us. “Four or five natives, two white men, and a woman” I hear the soldier at the front of the herd announce as they round the corner. 

“Y/N, hold on, hold on.” Arthur yells as he follows after to help. By the time he catches up however more than half of the group has already been dealt with by me leaving him only a few soldiers he quickly shoots. “Damn. Girl, you can not be doing that by yourself anymore.”

“Girl?” I ask wondering if he realizes he called me that. 

“Sorry, the heat of the moment.”

“It’s alright.” I sigh as a shoot a soldier that was sneaking up behind him. 

Arthur turns to the rest of the group as they walk down the cliff to join us. “You fools,” Arthur exclaims. “This is the damn Army, not to random gangs or country folk.”

“Shouldn’t we leave?” Eagle asks Dutch who is ignoring Arthur’s statement.

“Let’s see if we can get information first.”

Everyone starts checking the pockets of bodies for anything that can be used. I pick one pocket and find a letter a soldier wrote to his father. I sigh and put the letter back in the man's pocket softly. “These are all kids. They aren’t the problem.”

“Just keep looking,” Dutch says, obviously annoyed with my presence.

An explosion goes off as more soldiers show up already firing at us, “There’s a lot of men Dutch.” Eagles yells.

“Don’t surrender! If you do you’ll hang.” He says back. “Arthur, We gotta take that cannon out.” 

“I can do it,” I yell already hurrying up the hill.

“Y/N, get back here!” Dutch yells as I ignore him and make it to the top.

 The soldier using the cannon steps back and lunges at me landing a punch to the side of my face. I swing back hitting him in the jaw and making him stagger back giving me enough time to shoot him in the chest. The other soldier who was assisting him tries to shoot me but is taken out by an out-of-breath Arthur.

“You run fast.” He sighs and lifts my face softly. “You might bruise. That’ll be a fun story to tell Bea.”

“Yeah, that was my first punch in the face in a while.” 

“Where’s my friend?” Eagle asks as he frantically looks around. “Did he die?” I look and see the man injured but walking up the hill. “Thank goodness.”

“Well, that sure wasn’t the plan.” Arthur spats towards Dutch.

“I’m doing my best Arthur, I’m trying everything I have.” The sound of the trumpets plays from nearby alerting us to the cavalry. “I’ll keep trying and you,” He jabs a finger towards Arthur and I, “will keep doubting me.”

“We are just worried about Folk, Dutch.” Arthur sighs as a cannonball hits nearby. “Shit, where Eagles Flies?”

As we look around Dutch pushes us towards the denser forest. “Don’t worry about that it’s time to run.”

Arthur grabs my hand and starts running after Dutch, “What about Eagles Flies? And Charles?” I ask both of them.

“I saw Charles take off,” Arthur called back. He whistled for our horses as they ran up to us.

“Arthur, Y/N, we need to ride fast and hard so stay on me!” Dutch yells as he scrambles onto his horse. 

Suzie already seems extremely stressed as she takes off with all her might. We ride deeper into the forest when we hear shot fire from the trees to our right and I'm suddenly rolling through the mud. Arthur who was ahead of me pulls on Athena’s reigns making her turn around so he could check on me. I sit up sore already annoyed at myself for not changing into pants before coming here. I hear Suzie let out a painful sound and I turn toward her. 

She’s on her side in pain as blood spills out from a bullet wound near her neck. “Suzie!” I yell and crawl over to her. My skirt gets caught by a branch sticking out of the mud making me almost fall face-first into the mud again. 

I somehow stand and start to pull on her reigns to try to get her to stand. “You gotta get up,” I demand. “Please, Suzie.” I start to beg and my eyes start to tear up and I stop trying to get her to stand and start putting pressure on the wound. “Arthur,” I cry out as he hops off Athena and runs to me. “We gotta get her to stand.”

“Y/N, we have to go. The army is on our tails.” He tries to pull me but I yank out o his grip and keep putting pressure on Suzie.

She isn’t moving as much anymore and I can’t feel her breathing much, “Suzie, I need you to get up.” I cry again but the horse doesn’t react anymore.

More bullets fly past us and Arthur is very visibly starting to get worried. “My dear, you are gonna have to forgive me.” He throws me over his shoulder and starts heading away from Suzie who is no longer moving.

“No! Damn it, Arthur, we gotta get her to stand up!” I scream and hit his back but his grip just tightens around me. “No. She’s gonna get hurt more!” My eyes are stinging from the tears I didn’t realize were still falling. “She’s gonna get concerned if we leave her,” I say not as loud anymore. 

“Arthur makes your horse run, we’ll fetch 'em later. We gotta go on foot.” Dutch calls from way ahead of us. 

As we run past Athena, Arthur smacks her rear end making her head in another direction as the men go deeper into the trees. “Y/N, I need you to run now.” Arthur places me on the ground but grabs my hand and keeps running into the forest.

We find a very small footpath that leads to us running on the side of a mountain with the roaring river below us. The soldiers are extremely close behind us now.

I keep looking back behind us when I suddenly run into a back of Arthur. When I turn around to look he’s stopped at a broken bridge. “Shit, this is it.” He yells to Dutch.

“Don’t fuckin’ move. Put your hands up.” The soldiers yell as they surround us.

“Follow my lead.” Dutch mumbles. I wasn’t sure what plan he had at the moment because at least twenty soldiers had guns on us. 

We all slowly put our hands up. Dutch starts back towards the edge of the cliff slowly as he rants to the soldiers about the men they killed. Arthur and I slowly do the same. I have a feeling I know what his plan is and I'm thankful I know how to swim.

“You can ask this lovely couple that I have a problem with fighting change. But I know now that you can’t do that.” As Dutch finishes, all three of us step off the cliff and plunges into the cold water.

The soldiers begin to fire at us as we are rushed down the river. Once the firing stops Dutch is able to get to land. He grabs Arthur by the arm and helps him up who then turns and takes my hand finally pulling me in.

“That went really bad, Dutch,” Arthur says as he coughs up water.

“We needed it though, we just escaped from chaos.” He seems almost happy. “Go get Charles and head to the reservation-”

“Stop giving orders for a damn minute.” I snap at him.

Dutch looks at me confused. “I’m sorry but not everyone has time to greave a horse.” He offers a hand to Arthur who ignores it and stands on his own to help me up. “We are almost home free. Don’t forget. Let’s split up.” He starts to walk away from us leaving us at the edge of the river. “Have faith you two, have faith.”

“There is no more faith,” I say to only Arthur. 

He pulls me into a big hug. I wrap my arms around his waist and tuck my face into his neck. “I’m sorry about Suzie. Let’s go find Athena and go get our girl.”

I let out a long sigh and nod, “Alright, Arthur.”

AN: thank you for reading :)

#rdr2 #rdr2 fandom #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #Dutch Van Der Linde #dutch x daughter!reader #homecoming

[cowboyfromh3ll]

OKAY BESTIE I'VE GOT ANOTHER ONE

It's John's turn this time.

The reader is Dutch's daughter still.

Dutch starts dating John's mother, and they have a dinner to introduce the kids. (They're 18 ans 23 but) since Dutch is serious about this woman, he wants her son (who still lives at home... also maybe has an emo band but thats besides the point) and his daughter to meet each other.

Cue another stereotypical porn scenario, except this one of the Stepbro variety

I absolutely loved Cola.

Have you heard the song "She keeps me up" by nickelback? (Ik nickelback is kinda cringe but this song 💋👌)

It reminded me of this prompt because one of the lines is:

"Funky little monkey, she's a twisted trickster.

Everybody wants to be the sister's mister

Coca cola, roller coaster

Love her even though I'm not supposed to."

MX

(StepBro!John Marston x Dutch’s Daughter!Reader Smut)

WOOOO MY GOD this was sooooo fun to write and it's one of the best pieces of literature I have ever written. Enjoy.

Warnings: Stepcest, age gap, unprotected piv, reader is a pervert with a wild imagination

You had a near giddy sense of optimism at the thought of that day's coming events. The lust was like an IV drip in your veins, spreading through your body rapidly enough to make you feel lightheaded from excitement. You tumbled out of bed and pranced towards the bathroom like a deer frolicking through a field, though with your hazy state of mind, it felt more like dragging yourself towards the bathroom with the helpless awareness of someone realizing they’d been slipped a drug. You swung open the door with such great ferocity you thought you might rip it off its hinges if you weren’t careful.

You tried to take relief in the surging water of the shower, cranking the handle the furthest you could; the bathroom filling with steam within minutes. You stood underneath the water, watching the way each droplet drummed against the bottom of your tub hypnotically. You thought of the boy you were hours away from meeting in an introductory dinner, your father informing you he was named John. From pictures your father had so graciously shown you, you knew he was your type. He looked considerably older than you, though not by too much. Young looking enough that people wouldn’t give you questioning looks if they saw you walking together in public hand in hand, or perhaps sharing a milkshake; seductively licking the whipped cream off the corner of his mouth before dipping your own finger in the fluffy confection.

His skin looked nearly wet in the picture your father showed you, standing next to his mother in some outside area (You barely remembered what she looked like, far too focused on him). The oily lubricants of sweat caused his hair to cling to his forehead; the effortless feather of his side-swept bangs that were just slightly too long framing his left eye. You’d imagined that if you pushed them back, the path of his shining forehead would be exposed. The thought alone made your heart quicken as if he had just stripped naked in front of you. You went on to imagine that after pushing back his bangs, you’d lick his forehead; likely tasting of the sweat on his inner thighs and the crevices of his torso.

You smiled at the thought as you slathered the syrupy body wash across your breasts, hoping your skin would ferment with the scent and create an intoxicating alcohol in the air. You began to imagine John inhaling the rousing fragrance of your cherry vanilla shampoo as you massaged your scalp; the result of accidentally leaning far too forward next to him while he showed you something on his phone screen, a swath of velvety hair brushing against his nose as he tried his best not to deeply inhale you. You soon became so dizzy from your own thoughts that you clumsily supported yourself on the shower wall before sliding down. You extracted the shower head from its holder before turning the notch to a narrow stream of high pressure and holding it between your legs the same way a medic would put an oxygen mask on a patient slipping from consciousness.

You chose your outfit for the day carefully. You decided that today you’d brandish a mini baby pink slip dress, the material imperceptibly sheer; slight enough that they wouldn’t be able to discern the outline of your lacy underwear; but sheer enough that upon closer inspection, they’d be able to make out the prints of your hardened nipples and the color of your smooth breasts. For the special occasion, you wore no bra but donned a simple white cropped cardigan. Only upon entering the privacy of John’s bedroom, if allowed, would you discard the fabric to allow the cold air of the house to make a show of your hardened nipples for your target. Until you were able to engage in true contact with the man, you’d use his hungry stares as sustenance. You’d imagined John had never been with someone so deliciously supple, someone so curvaceous and tempting, that he couldn’t mask the direction in which his eyes traveled and the delight at what he was looking at.

When you check the weather for the day, your heart swelled in satisfaction at the realization of what the record high southern heat would bring. You licked your lips as you watched the news anchor on TV, almost able to taste the flavor of John’s sweat on your tongue. The piquancy would cause your mouth to water in delight, and you began to clench your legs painfully together as if to muffle the screeching desire that clawed away at the ornately papered walls of your meridional mansion.

As you shuddered, your father walked into the living room with an equally blissful smile on his face. “Goodmorning, sweetheart.” He called before walking over and planting a tender kiss to your temple. “Are you ready for tonight?” You nodded enthusiastically, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically as you realized your own excitement. In the past, you had never been particularly keen on meeting your father’s girlfriends, but it wasn’t often they had a hot son under their wing and this situation seemed too good to pass up.

The ride to their house was torturous; restless in the passenger seat of your father’s corvette as he drove down the road. Even though he was already driving above the speed limit, a part of you wanted to shove your father out of the driver's seat and drive there on your own at record speed, pushing the gas pedal to its limits. You tried your best to not bite your nails, painted cherry squares that gleamed like red vinyl; it was a habit you had ditched in the throes of your childhood. As you and your father pulled into the driveway of a quaint suburban home, all judgment you might’ve initially had left you as you remembered the prize that awaited you inside; like a parcel sitting inside an ornately wrapped gift box. You squinted your eyes against the bleached out concrete of their driveway, looking past the beat up looking 1900 Audi 100 and towards the doorway. The stone paved walkway served as an umbilical path to the inside; the bottom of your Repetto Camille heels scraping against the granular surface of their front steps, each strike of your heel against the ground a sharp reminder of what awaits you. It felt like a daydream, like you were walking a path of luminous sugar.

The rap of your father’s knuckle against the front door snapped you back to reality, and you stood there skittishly. You straightened your posture and flashed your father an enthusiastic smile which he returned. The door creaked open in front of you, revealing the woman of your father’s affections, but not the man of yours. Nonetheless, you held your smile and greeted the woman. You watched as the two exchanged kisses on the cheeks, before she turned to face you.

“Oh it’s so good to meet you, (Name)!” She stuck her hand out to shake yours, which you gingerly accepted and shook. “I’ve heard so much about you.” She went on to say, which made you smile wider.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Ms. Marston.” You nodded, your eyes skidding to look behind her to see if John was there. A sense of disappointment began to swell within you as you considered the fact that he may not be there; he was a grown man after all, and he could decide whether or not he wanted to be present to meet his mother’s new partner. The realization felt akin to the bittersweet pain of heat leaving your genitals upon retracting your hand before you could reach orgasm.

“Please, step inside. Dinner is nearly ready.” She stepped aside to allow you in, and you did so in a sluggish manner. The woman led you down the hall, presumably to her living room. When you turned the foyer into the living room, you nearly crumpled to your knees.

There, on the couch, you beheld the love of your life. Your chest began to surge when he turned to face the three of you, at once standing in a show of practiced politeness. His awkward gait as he walked over nearly made you screech in desire. Now that he stood before you, you drank in details you weren’t able to capture from mere pictures. Healed scars almost white in comparison to his tanned, stubbled skin. The small bump on his nose as it curved to a rounded tip. The girth of his generous biceps, decorated in embellishing ink designs, not revealed in the portrait style pictures you had seen. The slight downturn of his brown eyes contrasting his rough features.

Before you knew it, he was standing before you, seemingly last in the assembly line to be greeted by him. “Nice to meet you, I’m John.” His southern drawl made you shiver, your teeth chattering as you lifted your hand to his. The initial feeling of skin to skin contact made you want to cry out; the single touch alone would’ve been enough to satiate you for the entire night and until your next meeting. But your longing grew teeth, and you were ready to maul the man before you. There was a distinct gentleness in the way you took his hand, flashing him your best smile as you batted your eyelashes. “I’m, (Name).” You chirped. “Pleasure to meet you.” And what a pleasure it would be, indeed, you thought. You noted the calluses on the tips of his fingers, imagining what their roughness might’ve felt like grinding into your clit. As the two of you parted hands, you smoothed the tips of your fingers over his wrist and slid them over his palm. You watched his face to pick up on any reactions to your strangely intimate gesture, relishing in the way his adams apple bobbed harshly.

“See, they’re already getting along.” Your father joked. You offered genuine laughter, finding amusement in the unintentional literalness of his statement.

“Oh, yes! Let me check up on dinner to see if it’s ready yet.” John's mother began walking towards the kitchen, to which your father followed closely behind her.

“I’ll come with you, the two can acquaint themselves for a bit.” He patted her shoulder, offering you and John a polite yet expectant smile. You and your father seemed to have a hive mind that night, because the set up couldn’t be any more perfect. You stepped around the arm rest of the couch and sat down on the cushioning, seemingly assessing the comfort of the pillows to see how well of a surface they’d make for cunnilingus.

Your attention was drawn back to John, who was sitting in a reclining chair vertical to the loveseat you sat on. “There’s some water on the table if you’d like some.” He motioned towards the tray on the table, which held 4 glasses.

“Thank you.” You said, a small purr in your inflection as you reached for a glass and brought it to your lips. John watched with near a hypnotized demeanor as you tipped the cup back, your rouge lipstick leaving a print on the side of the cup. He watched as the pink flesh of your tongue flicked over the rim of the cup tentatively, catching a few loose droplets of water. John looked so nervous he looked like he might throw up all over his shoes, and your small gestures were enough to start up a tremble in him.

“So,” you began, the sound of you setting your cup down causing John to jerk. “Tell me about yourself, John!” You said enthusiastically. You hadn’t noticed how wide you were grinning, perhaps too excited for a simple meeting. He looked at you as though you had just asked him the meaning of life. You gave him an encouraging nod, something you would’ve never otherwise done if this were any other boy. But you could make special exceptions.

He sat up and drummed on his thighs, deep in thought. “Uh, well… I’m twenty three-”

You couldn’t help but lick your lips at the mention of his age, passing it off as blithely wetting your dry lips. You listened attentively as he recounted the rudimentary details of his life, your eyes focusing on the scars littered across one side of his face. You imagined what it’d be like to skate your tongue across them, allowing your tongue to linger on one end before sliding back down the other direction.

“The car out in the front is mine, actually.” There was a small inflection of pride in his voice, though you couldn’t remember the conversation having gotten to the point of discussing cars in your daydream.

“Oh really? It’s quite nice.” You supposed talking up a man’s ego would be the easiest way to get him out his pants, and his car seemed to be a soft spot for him. Though comparably, if you were talking cars, you’d be doing him a service driving him around in yours. Imagine the fun you two would have! You’d pick him up in your baby blue audi roadster; he’d sit a bit awkwardly at first on the passenger side, his legs bent up too far to avoid having the skin on the back of his knees touch the hot leather of the seat. You’d drive him down an isolated road with the top down as you floored the gas, letting the wind hit your bodies in some form of foreplay. Before long, you’d be surrounded by overgrown greenery and untamed woods, and you’d tell him to slide his jeans down so you could pull his cock out and fellate him.

“Y’know, I actually have quite a few cars. Maybe you can check ‘em out sometime?” You offered, feigning innocence. His eyes widened slightly at your mentioning of having several cars of your own. “Yeah?” He asked in disbelief.

You nodded. “Yeah! Maybe I’ll even let you drive one.” You giggled, feeling exultation at making him laugh as well, even if it was nervous laughter. You hoped that upon accepting your invitation to view your cars in some impromptu meet, it’d be easy to seduce and fuck him in the back seat of one of your coupes.

"Ha, never imagined my mom would find herself a rich fella. Now I'll be able to borrow my rich sister's cars." Having him call you his sister felt like a kick in the skull, it was like being unwillingly pulled into a group project you had no intentions of being a part of. "Well, I'm not quite your sister." In an act of defiance, you shed the thin cardigan and puffed your chest out, pulling the thin strings tying the front together like you were unwrapping a gift; the lighting from the chandelier made your dress appear subtly translucent. You suppressed the smirk that threatened to come onto your face when you heard him cough and clear his throat. "Think of it as borrowing your friend's cars " You turned to look at him again, flashing a toothy smile that dismissed any ulterior motives.

"Uhm, yeah." His porcelain voice shivered with forming cracks. He crossed one thigh over the other, leaning back in his seat and sucking in a deep breath. Now that he was actually in front of you, you could take a moment to study his clothing of choice. It seemed that that day he himself had decided to brandish baggy black jeans that bunched around his ankles, and a black band shirt that read 'Alice In Chains'. Not only that, he had a few studded leather bracelets around his wrists. You wondered what he'd look like with a similar choker around his neck, attached to a leash as you sat on his back with a leather crop like he was your mount of choice.

"I like your style!" You complimented, taking another sip of your water. The remark seemed to work in your favor, causing him to sit up straight and smile in pride. Indeed, the way inside a man's heart, and pants, was to talk him up.

"Thank you, I like yours too." His tone was hushed, briefly flickering his eyes down your body before your father walked in. "Hey you two, dinner’s ready." He announced. You dropped all seductive pretenses and faced your father, pulling your cardigan back on while smiling. "Alright daddy!"

The two of you promptly followed behind Dutch, who already seemed to know his way around the house as he led you towards the dining room. John mechanically set the table as his mother droned on about how excited she was to have finally met you, putting a hand on your shoulder with familiar proximity. You did not mind the touch, but you detested the idea of it being perceived as motherly by your father or John. You sat across from John on the mahogany dinner table, which was a heartland expanse of wood long enough for you to lay down on as John pillaged you. Though the four sharp corners of the table were somehow symbolic; a reminder to not go out of bounds on this dinner.

The dinner went on as planned by your father: blithe introductions and a lighthearted atmosphere, your father encouraging you to speak of your achievements casually to show what a great unit the two of you were without sounding pretentious. Though you supposed speaking about all your pageantry awards and college certificates along with your impressive resume was anything but; feeling instead like you were in the middle of some high stakes interview that determined the rest of your life. In a way, you thought it did though. Afterall, the man of your dreams was sitting across from you, and you wanted to impress him. But John seemed to sink in his chair the more you spoke, his eyes flickering occasionally towards his mother, who's jaw only seemed to open wider the more you shared.

"Quite a daughter you've got, Dutch! You should be proud." She cheered, flashing you a warm smile in the process. You returned it before looking over across from you, and John himself seemed to be impressed. But it was more of an ashamed look, as if he were trying to telepathically communicate to his mother 'don't be disappointed in me because I don't have all those achievements under my belt'.

In an act of consolation, you slipped your foot out of your shoe and ran it up his leg, not once looking at him as you did so, stopping to rest your toes on his knee. Perhaps a rush of your judgment, but you felt his entire leg go rigid beneath your foot as he froze, his fork stopping mid way on its path towards his mouth. You continued conversation with your father like it was nothing, a skill born out of practice. You retracted your foot momentarily, an imaginary static shock connecting the two of you as you flickered your eyes towards him briefly, who was staring back at you with aroused disbelief.

"Would you like some more water, (Name)?" John's mother asked, pitcher in hand. You nodded and thanked her, watching the way the cup filled before flashing John a more sultry smile, knowing and empathetic. It said all the words you could not speak out loud. You rested your chin on the back of your hand as you listened to John's mother speak about the multiple clients she saw a day as a real estate agent. You took John's reaction as a green light, opting towards a more bold move. The initial touch had been a pop quiz, now this was the big exam. Once again, your foot traveled up his shin, stopping only for a moment at his knee, as if waiting for one last sign of rejection, before reaching past his thigh and landing at his crotch, rubbing front to back again and again while your father spoke of his own business. Upon applying more pressure to his half erect genitals with the sole of your foot, John's knee reflexively jerked and slammed up into the table, causing you to pull your foot back and shove it into your shoe before anyone could see what you were doing.

Dutch and John's mother looked at each other before looking at John in confusion. "Are you okay, hon?" His mother asked. Her concern-laden question made you want to laugh. John cleared his throat and nodded, shifting in his seat.

"Yeah, mom." He confirmed. She didn't appear too convinced, but she didn't want to rouse any sort of uncomfortable conversation in the middle of dinner. You smiled to yourself in satisfaction, a small victory cheer playing out in your head. The rest of dinner went without a hitch, occasionally stopping to rest your foot on top of John's shoe. He still held an expression of confusion and disbelief, a tinge of arousal; but not once did he move his foot away.

By the end of dinner, John's mother insisted he show you to his room so you could see all his rock memorabilia, something she thought a woman of your age would enjoy seeing. And while you had never dabbled in the more alternative side of fashion and music, it was certainly something that you thought made a man more attractive. John had a stiff air about him as the two of you got up and excused yourself from the dinner table, and you reveled in his tenseness as you walked alongside him. He was quiet the entire walk as if in deep contemplation, not once looking at you out of fear that if he did, he might turn to see some sort of succubus had taken your place. Though once you reached the steps leading up to the second floor, you made a point of stepping directly in front of John as you traversed upwards.

You could feel his eyes train on your ass, the shortness of your dress and the movement of your hips affording him a peek beneath the hem of your dress and to your lace clad ass. As if you were a magician hypnotizing him with some sort of mystical locket by swaying it back and forth, he followed you up in a trance. It wasn't until you stopped at the top of the stairs, turning your torso to face him, did he rip his eyes away from your posterior and up to face you. You smirked unabashedly, as if to tell him you caught him staring.

"Which room is yours?" You asked, looking back to the hallway.

"Oh, right this way." There was a small pep in his step as he led you down the carpeted hall. When he reached the door, he pushed it open and stepped aside to allow you in.

"Ladies first." He said, a tinge of amusement in his voice.

"What a gentleman." You said as you stepped in. You stood in the center of his room, looking around at its slightly disheveled state. He clearly hadn't anticipated having anyone in his room that night, only expecting a quaint dinner. His walls were decorated with several posters of bands, all dressed in a similar fashion as him while carrying electric guitars and wildly thrashing their hair. His navy blue bed sheets on his unmade that you so badly wanted to throw yourself onto face first before inhaling deeply. He had a few guitars of his own propped up against the wall, and you took an instant liking to the bright red one. There were stray t-shirts littered across the floor; his closet door bulging open to reveal more black clothes.

"I like your room, it's so you." You smiled at him, crossing your arms beneath your chest. John stepped fully inside, closing the door behind him but leaving it slightly ajar.

"Thanks, I'd say it's real uh, expressive." He said, which made you giggle.

"You play?" You pointed towards the instruments, only then taking note of the amp positioned behind them.

"Yeah, I'm actually in a band."

This new piece of information was absolutely delightful, and it made you perk up. "Oh really?" You asked, leaning forward in interest. He showed that same bit of pride, gaining confidence at your sudden inquiry.

"Yeah, I'm the lead guitarist." He boasted, sitting down on the bed behind you. You looked at the spot directly next to him, and asked "May I?"

Before he could realize what you were asking, he nodded yes. The realization of what he agreed to came when you sat down so close next to him that your thighs were shy of touching each other. He made no comment about it, only deeply inhaling to steady his breath. The casualty of your prior conversation almost made him nearly forget about the little trick you pulled downstairs at dinner.

"Uhm.." He began, opening his mouth to speak but closing it as if unsure how to start. He looked at you and squinted his eyes, confused by the perplexed expression on your face feigning innocence.

"Downstairs, uh…" You cocked your brow in faux confusion, as if you had no idea where he was going with this. The action alone made John feel crazy, as if he had imagined the whole scene in its entirety and by mentioning it, you'd look at him in appalled disbelief for even imagining something so lewd with his new step sister.

Before he could continue, you cut him off. "Hey John, I have a question."

He pursed his lips before gulping. "What is it?"

"When your mother showed you the picture of my dad and I, did you touch yourself to the thought of me?"

The forwardness of the question made John’s eyes widen to gargantuan proportions. He raised one of his brows at you as if to assess whether you were serious or not, and for a moment, you felt the unfamiliar fear of the possibility of your assumptions being wrong. To emphasize how serious you were, you began undoing the front strings of your cardigan again, letting it slide down your arms along with a singular spaghetti strap, which you made a point not to fix as it slid down your shoulder.

“Uhm… I…” His hesitancy to answer was an answer of its own. You smiled and leaned into his arm, feeling the rigidity of his body. You looked at his face; he looked as though he were weighing out his options. You were sure that if you could read his mind, one end of the balancing scale would have “Remain decent during this joining of two families”, and the other end would read “Fuck my super hot step sister who clearly wants me.” And you were certain that the latter was outweighing the former.

“Well,” You began, ghosting your fingers on his thighs. “I have.” His breath hitched, eyes fixed on where your hand was. “All I can think about is touching you. I want to touch you so badly, and I want you to touch me.” You brought your face closer to his, awaiting any sort of response. He didn’t seem quite as convinced as you wanted him to be though.

“I know you want to.” You purred, laying your palm flat on his thigh, shy of a few inches from his cock. “I saw the way you were looking at me in the living room. And I know you were looking at my ass when we were going up the stairs. Just admit it.” John looked off to the side shamefully as though he’d been caught walking into a room he wasn’t welcome into. You were sure that if this were under any other circumstances, John would’ve pounced on you with as much fervor by now. But the step siblings aspect added an extra layer of shame that you viewed as unnecessarily tedious.

“John.” You said more firmly, cupping his stubbled cheek and turning him to face you directly. “Touch me.”

His hands came to the sides of your face as he lowered his mouth onto yours. You felt his pulse strike against your fingers as you continued to hold him, willfully opening your mouth in the beginning of a hungry kiss. Instantly, John shoved his tongue into your mouth, the nascent feeling of metal on his tongue as he created a sucking motion with each kiss making you shiver. You moaned into the kiss, sucking and kissing anything your mouth came into contact with. He abandoned all hesitant pretenses as his hands began to roam your body, groping and squeezing anything that filled his palm. His touches were so confident and intentional, it appeared as though he had never been scared at all. He seemed to have a perfect lexicon of your body inside his mind, knowing exactly where to touch without looking.

You turned to face him better on the bed, swinging one of your thighs over his lap. As you two separated from the kiss, his needy hands came to your straps and hooked two fingers around them, looking to you for permission before he pulled them down.

“But you’re my brother.” You joked, faking a pout.

“Your STEP-brother.” He clarified. Without another word, he yanked the strings down, exposing your pert chest and hardened nipples. He lowered his mouth to a nipple before taking it in between his lips, pulling it along with his teeth as he sucked. You lowered your head and watched the pink on skin contact, your nipple beginning to glisten with John’s saliva. You gasped and threw your head back, holding his crown in place as his tongue piercing swirled around the bud.

You reached your arms across his back and began clawing at the shirt he was wearing, pulling it up along his back until he helped you pull it over his head, temporarily interrupting his ministrations. After delivering the same attention to your other nipple, he began yanking the rest of your dress down along your body. You lifted your ass in assistance, giggling at the way he flung it across the room, hanging on the headstock of his red guitar.

“Damn, girl, you are stunning.” He smirked, taking a moment to admire your perfectly taut torso before smoothing his hands over the skin. “And you smell amazing.” He added. His comments nearly made you blush. You flung your heels off across the room, leaving you in only your red lacy underwear.

“Your turn.” You whispered, winking at him. He stood hastily and began removing his studded belt, dropping his jeans quickly after and clumsily pulling them off his ankles. His excitement made you laugh, you thought he might trip from how quickly he was moving. You licked your lips at the sight of the trail of hair dusted across his naval, disappearing beneath the waistband of his boxers; it appeared as if it were some wispy chocolate confection drizzled over his body. At this point, he joined you back in bed, remaining in his own underwear. You eyed the noticeable bulge in his underwear, a tiny wet spot where his tip lay.

“Someone’s excited.” You teased, tracing the scar that ran along his cheek.

“Shit, with someone as smokin’ as you, who wouldn’t be.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your neck, his teeth grazing your pulse. The two of you shared a moment of lighthearted giggles as he pulled you along further on the bed.

“You ever had a girl?” You asked. You supposed you knew the answer, but you wanted to hear it come from his mouth. Your hands wrapped around his cloth covered cock and began to stroke leisurely.

“One, but besides that, I haven’t done much.” His labored breath sounded like he was running from something. “How come?” You asked. “You’re certainly handsome.”

He shrugged, shaking his head as he tipped it back on his sternum. “No one will have me, I guess.” He laughed in self pity. In response, you squeezed his cock before lifting your hand from the wad of fabric shaped around his erection. You hooked your fingers on the elastic of his underwear, pulling it down as the head of his cock snagged on the waistband before springing free. You smirked at the sight of his Jacob's ladder piercing.

“I like it.” You complimented, looking back up at him. “Real adventurous.”

“I guess the pain would have been worth it after all.” He joked.

You lowered your head above his cock, your hair falling around you. You exhaled onto him, bathing his tip in your warm breath. With that, you licked your lips, lowering them over him, leaving a pink print wherever your lips paused. You heard a guttural moan above you, his fingers resting over your scalp as if debating whether he should grasp your roots or not. You slowly arched your neck, extending your throat until it came to his base. You delighted in the feeling of metal against your tongue, fluttering it against his underside. He made gasping noises and began bucking his hips, writhing in a disoriented way that made the tip of his cock bump against the back of your throat.

You gave him a few minutes of skilled sucking, your throat producing various wet slurps and gags as you fucked your own throat on his cock. You brushed your hair behind your ear, looking up at him through your lashes. His face twitched and contorted in pleasure, his mouth hanging open in a silent moan. You began tasting the salty bitters of pre-ejaculate on your tongue, hollowing your cheeks as you pulled your head back on his tip, giving a few more harsh sucks before popping off of it. His erection glistened and bobbed in the air as you looked up at him seductively, licking your lips before leaning back up towards eye level. His eyes remained trained on his own cock, looking as if to see if it was still attached.

“Your turn.” You whispered before placing your fingertips on his chest, pushing him back to lay on the bed, his head landing comfortably on his pillow. His lips twitched into an excited smile as you shuffled over him, your knees on either side of his torso. His shaky hands came to grip the back of your thighs, his pointer fingers digging into the plump flesh where your thigh curved into your ass.

You couldn’t believe how close the two of you were to actually fucking. You had a small growing sense of paranoia that your father or John’s mother may decide to walk upstairs, the carpeted floor cushioning their muted footsteps. That they’d throw the door open and see the clothes strewn across the floor, before landing on you sitting atop of John. You sweeped the thought away, deciding to enjoy this for as long as possible. You gripped the head board as you walked your knees to the sides of his neck, looking down at his excited face.

“You know what would be really hot?” You asked, squaring your cunt in front of his mouth. “If you took ‘em off with your teeth.” He leaned up with the obedience of a dog, pinching the elastic between his front teeth before sliding them down, his canines lightly scraping the tender flesh of your thigh. You shuddered as goosebumps wracked your body, the feeling of his nose traveling down your pubic bone making you want to cry out in ecstasy. Your thighs nearly sandwiched his neck, and as your panties pooled at your knees, it only required a slight tilt of your pelvis before you straddled his face fully, releasing your weight onto his mouth. His hands came to grip your ass, squeezing and pulling the globes of flesh in opposite directions.

His lips quickly latched onto your clit, sucking before he opened his mouth and flattened his tongue along your cunt; the feeling of cold metal making you yelp. Without waiting for the green light, you began grinding down onto his face. You bit your lip to avoid the risk of being found out, scrunching your face up at your best attempt to keep quiet. The bottom half of John’s face quickly became marinated in your enthusiasm, eating you out with the same eagerness as if he had just got a new car and was driving it for the first time.

He moaned into your pussy, his tongue laving between your lips and labia, circling your clit before sliding back down to your molting hole. He slid his wet muscle inside you, effectively tongue fucking you as you ground your clit into his nose. He gave your ass a playful spank, a sharp quick cut into the static haziness of your wanton acts which made you keenly aware of the fact either of your parents might’ve heard that. But you couldn’t find it in you to chastise him, he was far too engrossed in eating you out, and very excitedly.

John gripped your ass more forcefully now, manually shoving your cunt further onto his face as he continued to suck and lick. He was doing this with the full intention of making you cum. You bit the back of your hand, grinding so hard into his face you thought you might break the mattress. With a few more harsh sucks, you felt a flash of heat as you came all over John’s mouth and chin, barely able to suppress your cry of euphoria. He wrapped his mouth fully around your cunt, swallowing as much of your cum as he could before going back to sucking on your oversensitive clit. Your grinds slowed to a halt before you climbed off his head, seeing just how spent and drenched his face was.

You laughed in amusement. “My god.” You continued to giggle, feeling a sense of tenderness for him. He had a satisfied smile on his face as he laughed.

“How’d I do?” He lifted himself on his elbows as you moved off of him, leaning your back against the wall as you shed your panties off of your legs fully.

“Well you made me cum so I’d say pretty fucking good.” You giggled, patting him on the knee. Your cunt was a spent pool of pleasure, but the ache inside you continued to burn. You imagined he felt the same way, his cock somehow harder and in more need of touch.

“Take these off fully, already.” You pouted, moving to yank his underwear fully off his legs, throwing it into the pile of clothes next to his bed. You turned to face him. “How do you wanna fuck me?” You asked. He sat up suddenly and moved to the side, patting the pillow where he once laid.

“I wanna look at you while we do it.” Wordlessly, you followed his order and laid on your back, hugging your knees to your chest as he positioned himself above you. He took your ankles and settled them on his shoulders, giving the sides of your feet a kiss before gripping his cock and guiding it inside you. You nodded in encouragement, your mouth falling into a silent o as he slid in slowly to the hilt. He sucked in shaky breaths, trying his best to contain any sounds. He decided to lean forward and over to his night stand, pulling out a random CD before popping it into the player atop. At once, the sound of guitars and drums and smooth vocals filled the room, masking any sounds you made. He cranked the volume up, hastily beginning to thrust inside you.

It was the perfect cover up, one John’s mom wouldn’t question. It made sense, after all, for John to be sharing some of his music taste with you up in his bedroom, no matter how obnoxiously loud it might be. The two of you began in a chorus of moans and grunts, the wet sounds of skin on skin accompanying the playing of the band. John paused his movements momentarily to reach for an extra pillow aside your head before shoving it under your hips, helping him in elevating your pelvis. You let out a particularly loud squeal at the newly reached depth, letting loose a stream of obscenities about how good John was fucking you.

His hair began sticking to his forehead the same way it did in that one photograph, the sight of it making your cunt tighten around him. You dragged him down toward you by the arm, before sweeping his bangs to the side and landing a stripe of saliva on his forehead. The racy flavor made you shudder in delight, and you moved to wrap your arms around John’s neck to hold him in place. He buried his head into the crook of your neck, gripping the headboard as both of your bodies jerked from each movement. If the bed was squeaking, you wouldn’t have known; far too stimulated by the sounds of your bodies moving in tandem along with Chino Moreno’s singing.

John lifted his face to press his sweaty forehead to yours, an expression of pure ecstasy on his debauched features. The functioning awareness of his brain lagging behind his own body as it tried to register what had just happened, what was currently happening, and what was about to end. His eyes opened momentarily and you saw a sense of bewilderment for his own actions, before shutting slowly again in bliss. An involuntary and guttural noise left his mouth as he came inside you. The uncontrolled wince of his face combined with the spreading warmth in your abdomen tipped off your own orgasm, and you came harder than you had before. In the moment, you hadn’t registered that the way you screamed was akin to the primal screech one would release upon being fatally wounded.

As the next track on the album came to an end, the two of you remained in the same position catching your breaths. John seemed to snap back to his senses when he looked down to where you connected, a ribbon of cum dripping out of you. When he removed himself his horrors were only confirmed further.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I-I’ll pay for your plan b, I-” You sat up and waved your hand dismissively.

“On the pill, don't worry.” You reassured, which seemed to effectively calm his nerves. You sat up again, resting your back on the headboard.

“Wow.” He said, smiling at you widely.

“Wow, indeed.” You said.

“That was the best sex of my life.” He slapped your thigh before rubbing it, which you welcomed by placing your hand over his. “There’s more where that came from.” You winked once again and leaned forward to kiss him. The two of you shared a non-sexually charged kiss before separating.

“Alright.” You pat his knee, “Let’s get dressed now before my dad or your mom come up.”

The two of you got dressed simultaneously, slipping your dress on quickly before studying your hair and makeup in a nearby mirror. You picked up your panties and tossed them back towards John, who just barely caught them.

“Keep 'em, as a trophy.” You giggled as you watched him stuff them in his pocket. “Will do.”

The two of you made a haste trip to the bathroom to clean yourselves up and make sure you looked presentable before going back downstairs again. The two of you shared a tender moment where you dabbed away the sweat on each other's foreheads with crumpled up tissues. Upon your return downstairs, you found your respective parents sitting on the couch chatting, before they turned to face you two.

“How’d you two get along?” Asked Dutch. John’s mother looked on in enthusiasm, clapping her hands together. “I’m assuming well, John put on one of his favorite CDs to show you after all.” She cooed. The two of you looked at eachother knowingly with blithe laughter that suggested nothing out of the ordinary had happened at all.

“Yeah,” You began. “I think we’re gonna get along great.”

.

.

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MX - Deftones

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead fandom #red dead redemption community #red dead redemption 2 x reader #van der linde gang x reader #writing #red dead fanfiction #john marston #john marston x reader smut #john marston rdr2 #john marston x reader #john marston smut #dutch's daughter reader #agegap #stepcest #john marston is emo

[thef1diary]

Little Big Fan Series Masterlist

A Max Verstappen x SingleMother!Reader Story

Status: complete (still updating for blurbs)

Series Summary: Your daughter runs off while you were in the middle of grocery shopping because she spotted Max, her favourite driver. Meeting you, Max wants to know everything about you and your six year old. So of course he finds excuses to keep meeting you, starting with inviting you to the Dutch Grand Prix.

total wc: 33.1k

Note: feel free to request a drabble or chapter idea for this story.

#lbf fic talks -> writing process, answering asks about the story, and pretty much anything related to this fic series.

1. Little Big Fan (1.6k words)

2. Little Big Flight (1.7k words)

3. Little Big Race (2.4k words)

4. Little Big Celebration (1.6k words)

5. Little Big Surprise (3.3k words)

6. Little Big Gifts (1.9k words)

7. Little Big Movie Night (2.4k words)

8. Little Big Allergy (3.6k words)

9. Little Big Phone Calls (1.7k words)

10. Little Big Date Night (1.9k words)

11. Little Big Schooldays (2k words)

12. Little Big Relationships (2.1k words)

13. Little Big Sleepover (2k words)

14. Little Big Champion (1.9k words)

15. Little Big Aftermath (3k words)

Little Big Blurbs

Mr. Bear & Bearman

Braid Bonding

Mother’s Day Special

#little big fan fic #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fic #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #thef1diary fic #f1 x reader #lbf fic talks

[55szn]

good luck - mv1

max verstappen x fem!reader smau

summary when max and y/n adopt a black cat and everyone thinks it’s bringing him bad luck, they are determined to prove them wrong

warnings none i think

fc various girls from pinterest

notes requested!💘 loved this so muchhajska (excuse my poor editing skills on this one lol)

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[new child just dropped, everyone say hi to mocha🐾][same mocha, same @ maxverstappen1]

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

maxverstappen1

liked by yourusername, danielricciardo and 819.718 others

maxverstappen1 not having the season we expected, lots of work ahead.😑

view all 6.189 comments

yourusername ❤️ liked by maxverstappen1

user male acting performance where he’s having the worst day of his life but looks so hot doing it:

user girlsnjasfkja😭

user i’m being so serious rn you HAVE to give that cat to someone else

user first dnf i laughed… second dnf i serioused

user dw i played the dutch anthem at home for you king🧡🧡

user IT’S OKAY POOKIE YOU ARE GONNA WIN ALL OTHER RACES😖😖😖

user not if he doesn’t get rid of that cat lol

maxverstappen1 just uploaded to their story!

[😍🐈‍⬛ @ yourusername] [when the cat steals your gf😑]

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris and 102.189 more

yourusername certified dilf‼️

tagged maxverstappen1

view all 3.578 comments

maxverstappen1 the last pic??

yourusername gave me dad vibes idk

user so true

user what are the odds of max getting a black cat and immediately starting to get bad results

user ikr

user just a coincidence 🤷‍♀️

user one time thing is a coincidence, two dnfs in a row and then not being able to get a single win in many races… sounds like “black cat curse” to me sorry

user get rid of the cat if you want him to win the championship i’m BEGGING🙏🏻🙏🏻😫😫

user you guys are so ridiculous

user mocha with the max plush omgggggg i might die🥹🥹🥹🥹

user idc what anyone says he is gonna win the championship again and mocha will be forgiven you read it here first

user cat crazy lady + cat crazy dude = perfect match💘

FEW MONTHS LATER

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yourusername just uploaded to their story!

[4x world champion🥹🧡 i love you so much @ maxverstappen1] [beyond proud🦁🫶🏻]

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yourusername black cat bring good luck 😺 not bad luck 😾 so so proud of you maxie🧡

tagged maxverstappen1

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maxverstappen1 my girls🫶🏻🥰

maxverstappen1 love you❤️

yourusername love you more dilf💘

user just unserious as fuck😭😭

user max calling the cat and yn “his girls” like mocha is his daughter or smth😭

user she is his daughter wdym

redbullracing what an adorable lucky charm😺🍀

yourusername you know it🫡

user queen 🙏🏻

user I KNOW WHO MY GOAT IS🐐🐐 (mocha)

user mocha redemption arc ohhh i’ve been waiting for this one

user FR I ALWAYS BELIEVED IN YOU MOCHA😫

user THEY GOT MOCHA A PADDOCK PASS IM CRYINGGG

user always blessing us with the best max pictures thank u mother🥹

user please god i also want to raise a black kitty with my incredibly hot bf😔😔

user oh to be mocha…

user you don’t understand this lil family is EVERYTHING to me☹️☹️

#f1 fanfic #formula 1 #f1 #f1 x reader #fanfiction #smau #f1 smau #max verstappen #redbull racing #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen social media au #max verstappen smau #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fluff #mv1 #mv1 smau #max verstappen 1 #f1 fic #motorsports #formula 1 smau #max verstappen fanfiction #mv33 #mv33 x reader #mv1 x reader #mv33 smau #max verstappen 33

[lewisvinga]

truly mothering | max verstappen x fem! reader

summary; news about y/n mysteriously retiring from mercedes shocked the f1 world in the middle of the 2020 season. what shocked them even more was when she appeared on the paddock four years later…

fc; various girls on pinterest

warnings; ?

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1

note; requested ! mix of smau + written ! also one of the tweets was supposed to say 2017-2020 instead of 2016-2020 lol

word count; 700

masterlist !

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“Arabella, Angelina! Wait up!” Y/n exclaims as the nearly 4-year-olds run towards a familiar man clad in skinny jeans and a Red Bull shirt. She ignored the cameras on her and recorded as she ran across the paddock with heels to chase after her twin daughters.

“Papa!” The eldest of the two, Arabella, exclaims when she sees her father surrounded by a group of other drivers.

“Bella! Angel!” Max loudly exclaims, stepping back from the conversation to crouch down to the level of his daughters. Arabella wrapped her arms around him and Angelina quickly followed. The Dutch driver kissed their rosy cheeks as they giggled at their father's actions.

“You both look very pretty.” He said, pulling away for a moment.

“Mama dress us,” Angelina said in a softer voice compared to Arabella’s shout.

Y/n appeared moments later and was clearly out of breath from chasing the two. “Your daughters don’t listen, Verstappen. I cannot chase after them in heels.” She said out of breath, not noticing the shocked yet happy looks from the drivers.

“Oh my goodness, is that Arabella and Angelina?”

A familiar voice caused the two blonde girls to look up. “Uncle Lew!” The youngest, Angelina, exclaimed as she escaped from her father's grasp to hug the Mercedes driver.

Lewis was quick to scoop her up into his arms as Arabella also gave him a tight hug. He was Angelina’s favorite uncle, but Arabella’s favorite was actually his future teammate.

“Wow, you two are getting big!” Charles exclaimed, picking up Arabella who let out a laugh. “How old are you girls now?”

“Almost four!” The eldest replied as she held up her 4 fingers.

“Wow, Y/n, I’m surprised you actually came,” Lando said with a chuckle as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

They all knew the truth of why she retired. It was because she was 3 months pregnant with twins. Although she kept it a secret from the public, she was always close with the grid hence why they weren’t shocked about the twins but more so shocked that she’s back on the paddock.

“About time the twins know the paddock,” Y/n replied with a smile, watching the twins chat with their favorite uncles. “Plus, it’s nice to be back. It’s been ages. The girls should also know how cool their mama was.”

“Was? She still is.” Max corrected her.

“Yeah, but Mama doesn’t race anymore.”

“Mama drive with you?” Angelina asked Lewis. He let out a laugh, his eyes crinkling as he glanced at Y/n.

“Yeah, and she was a great teammate. But be careful, Y/n, Toto might convince you to replace me.”

His words caused her to laugh as she shook her head. “Gee, no thanks. These girls are tough to handle on their own. I don’t know if I could handle racing on top of that.” She sighs, reaching over to fix Angelina’s messy blonde curls.

“These babies? Difficult? Angelina and Arabella are angels!” Charles said in an exaggerated tone as he squeezed Arabella tightly.

Y/n leans in close to Charles and glances at Max, “Between you and me, they take after their father.”

“Hey!” The Dutch driver exclaimed, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means go get ready for the race.”

At the reminder of the race, Lewis and Charles set the twins down and quickly said goodbye to also prepare. The rest of the drivers soon followed leaving the family of 4 alone.

Max turned to the smiley twins who stared at their favorite uncles walk away. His eyebrows furrowed up as he looked at Y/n who just let out a chuckle while shaking her head.

He focused back on the twins and crouched down again. “How about a hug and a kiss for your papa?” He suggested. The twins didn’t have to be told twice and were quick to run back into their fathers arms, each giving him a peck on the cheek.

“Papa, you win okay?” Arabella demanded as Angelina nodded in agreement. Max laughs, giving his daughters one last tight squeeze.

“If I win for you both and for Mama, we can have ice cream for dinner. How does that sound?”

His deal caused the two girls to cheer in excitement as Y/n sighed again. “You’re dealing with their sugar rush, Verstappen.”

“Not if I’m a race winner!”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

liked by maxverstappen1, lewishamilton, and others !

yourusername: the girls loved seeing their papa win! ( but they loved seeing their favorite uncles more! ) congratulations on another win, my love! we’re all proud💗

tagged; maxverstappen1

maxverstappen1: i don’t like how they were looking at lewis and charles….

yourusername: they take after their father! they like pretty drivers 😁 especially angelina, she is team merc like her mama🙈

maxverstappen1: team merc? she’s all yours!

username: tears the twins are just like me fr

maxverstappen1: i love you❤️liked by yourusername !

username: MOTHER RETURNED AND SHE’S A FR MOTHER??

username: SHES BACKKK

username: she looks so good as a mom🥰🥰

username: SHE WAS DATING MAX THIS WHOLEEEE TIME??

username: bye so the baby f1 rumor was true except it was twins and w MAX???

carmenmmundt: such sweethearts 🥹🥹

francisca.cgomes: i know! such cuties💗

yourusername: ugh they love their auntie carmen & kika! they keep asking about you both😅💓

username: stoppp you guys rmbr when she said her biggest dream was becoming a mother 🥹🥹🥹

username: in her merc days💔💔 i love seeing her dream come true 🙁

lewishamilton: best part of this weekend was seeing the coolest gals on the paddock😎

yourusername: angelina won’t take her 44 merc hat off!!

charles_leclerc: my favorite verstappen are the twins

maxverstappen1: woah now….

yourusername: ( arabella is secretly team ferrari )

maxverstappen1: WHAT

username:will i get over this? no!

username: i am SHOCKED

username: from her party girl rookie era to being a mother, wow i love y/n🥹

mercedesamgf1: we miss the princess of the paddock!🩵

yourusername: and i miss my merc crew🤍

redbullracing: welcome arabella and angelina to the red bull crew! ❤️ liked by yourusername and maxverstappen1 !

username: in her birkin mom era

username: mother truly is mothering 😩😩

#formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 smau #f1 scenario #formula one scenarios #f1 imagine #formula one imagines #formula one imagine #f1 scenarios #formula one social media au #max verstappen social media au #max verstappen smau #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen scenario #max verstappen imagine

[pucksandpower]

Hey, I just read the Grid Kids series and I’m in love. I’ve got kids of my own and I remember when they first started trying to talk how everyone was practically fighting over who their first work would be and was wondering if you could do a First Word one where they are all doing the same of Seb and Readers kid. Like maybe even little nicknames of theory full name like for Charles it’s Char or for Lando it’s Lan? I thought it might be cute. But everyone gets a surprise when none of them are the kids first word and it’s someone else instead. Love your writing xx

Grid Kids: Speak Now

Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers

Summary: no one could have predicted what your daughter’s first word would be

Series Masterlist

“No, no, no! That’s not how you say it!” You lightly tickle your daughter’s belly until she’s giggling uncontrollably. “Mama! Say Mama!”

Your daughter, a chubby little cherub with her father’s hair and your eyes, squeals with delight, her tiny hands reaching out to grab yours.

She’s been babbling for months now but has yet to say her first real word.

“Come on, bärchen,” Sebastian coos, scooping her up into his arms. “Say Papa for Papa.”

Your daughter claps her hands and gurgles happily, her eyes sparkling. She is determined to keep you both guessing, it seems.

Meanwhile, your grid kids are gathered around, watching the exchange with amusement. They’ve all been trying to coax your daughter into saying their names too but she has stubbornly resisted their charms.

“Maybe she’ll say my name first,” Charles jokes, his usual mischievous grin plastered on his face.

“Not a chance,” Max retorts, his Dutch accent thick with amusement. “She loves me the most.”

“Oh, please,” Lando scoffs, rolling his eyes. “She clearly thinks I’m the coolest brother.”

“Ha,” George laughs, “in your dreams.”

“Exactly! Because we all know that’s me,” Mick chimes in.

Lance arches an eyebrow. “How does it feel knowing you’re all wrong?”

The boys continue to bicker playfully, each one convinced that they are your daughter’s favorite.

The baby in question, meanwhile, seems oblivious to the commotion, her attention focused solely on the shiny red Ferrari parked behind you.

“Box, box!” She exclaims, clapping her hands excitedly.

Charles, standing closest to the car, freezes. His eyes widen in horror and his face drains of color. Before anyone can react, he collapses to the ground like a sack of potatoes, unconscious.

The boys gasp in shock, their voices echoing through the garage. You rush to Charles’ side, checking for a pulse. He’s alive but he’s definitely not responding.

Sebastian scoops up your daughter, her wide eyes fixed on the stricken Ferrari driver. “It’s okay, honey,” he soothes, gently stroking her hair. “Charles is just a little tired.”

He carries your daughter away, leaving you to deal with the commotion. You shake your head in disbelief.

“Ferrari trauma, I guess,” you mutter to yourself, a rueful smile playing on your lips.

As you help the rest of the grid kids revive Charles, you can’t help but feel a surge of love for your chaotic family.

They may be crazy but you wouldn’t trade them for the world.

#f1 imagine #f1 #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 x reader #f1 x you #sebastian vettel x reader #max verstappen x reader #charles leclerc x reader #lance stroll x reader #george russell x reader #lando norris x reader #mick schumacher x reader #f1 fluff #f1 blurb #f1 one shot #f1 drabble #f1 fandom #f1blr #sebastian vettel imagine #max verstappen imagine #charles leclerc imagine #lance stroll imagine #george russell imagine #lando norris imagine #mick schumacher imagine #f1 x y/n #f1 x female reader

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Hiiii I absolutely loved you Max fics I don’t know if you ever would want to do that but if your interested please do a mafia storyline with Max or Mick! ❤️

Little Lion Man || MV1 & CH16

Pairings: dark!Charles Leclerc x fem!reader, Max Verstappen x fem!reader Summary: you find yourself caught in a war between the mafia families that ruled Monaco. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, guns, murder, pregnancy, slight non con/reluctant vibes, forced marriage WC: 3.5k

For a nation so small it was hard to believe that Monaco could be home to not one but three mafia families. There was the Leclerc famile, Verstsppen familie and the Sainz familia. The Leclerc’s had always called Monaco home but the Dutch and Spanish families had made their arrival known in the 90’s, almost burning the city in the war that broke out.

Just over 30 years later, it looked like history was going to repeat itself as the prodigal sons took over the family businesses.

“You are my daughter, if I say you will marry Charles then you will marry him. End of argument.” You would hardly call it an argument when you weren’t even given an opportunity to say your piece but your father left no room for a rebuttal as he slammed the door closed behind him. There was a reason the Sainz’s called him the Peacemaker.

You were a bargaining chip, a pawn in your father’s arsenal to end the war between the Leclerc’s and the Sainz’s before it could spill out into the street and affect everyone’s bottom line. The last thing anyone wanted was to lose their men, their money and their product.

Two weeks later you were shoved into a wedding dress that could have been a film prop for any 80’s rom-com, puffy sleeves and all. It was hideous.

“You are quite beautiful,” Charles said as you reached the dais where the priest waited. “I suppose that will make this easier.”

By ‘this’ you assumed he meant the moment the reception was over and you found yourself stepping into his bedroom, your bedroom too now. Charles had been quiet for most of the evening, indulging in a handful of whiskeys over ice as he mulled over what his life had become, but he found his voice as he tugged his tie off. “On the bed.”

Your fingers tightened around your waist as you hugged yourself, trying to fight back the tears you thought you had finished shedding when you resigned yourself to your fate. “You don’t have to do this, we can come to an arrangement.”

Charles scoffed and continued to unbutton his dress shirt. “This is the arrangement.”

You swallowed as he shucked the shirt over a leather armrest and you saw the dark tattoos that curled over his biceps and down his forearms. A snake moved with his muscles and entwined around a gothic cross. Beneath it, thorny roses with blood drops splattered over the petals decorated the otherwise sun kissed skin.

“I don’t know what my father told you but I-”

“Your father said you would be an obedient wife,” he interrupted as he pointed a ringed finger to the bed. “I’m only as terrible as you make me.”

You took a step back as he stepped closer, his hand lifting to your face. It was reflex to flinch from his touch, knowing the violence his hands were capable of dealing to those who displeased him. You couldn’t help shivering as his cold wedding band touched your cheek and his other arm snaked around your waist, dragging the zip of your dress down your spine.

“What does that even mean?” you whispered. You took a breath and grew the courage to tip your head back and met his uniquely green eyes - the colour brighter than the soul behind them.

He pushed the puffed sleeves from your shoulders until the dress fell to the floor and inhaled at the sight of your body being bared to him. Biting his lip, he stepped back and ran a hand over his shadow of a beard. “Behave yourself, and I will too. Push me, and I’ll push you back harder.”

You felt the colour drain from your face at the threat and he chuckled as he closed the distance between you, forcing your lips apart with a demanding kiss. His palms ran down your spine and over the curve of your ass, pulling you flush against the hard expanse of his body.

“One other thing,” he murmured against your lips. “Disappoint me or my family and, well…it will be the last thing you do, chérie.”

You collapsed into Max’s arms the moment he opened the door, your fingers digging into the straps of muscle along his back as you clung to him like a lifeline. The penthouse apartment was quiet except for the tv playing in the master bedroom and your sobs filled the foyer before he could even close the door.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Max said, despite holding you just as tight. “He probably has Arthur or Lorenzo following you.”

You started to pull back but his arms caged you in his embrace so you settled for talking into his chest. “I know how to lose a tail. I was careful.”

He sighed and rested his cheek on your head, inhaling the floral scent of your shampoo he had missed. “I know, liefje. How long is he gone for?”

You screwed your eyes closed and wished he had never brought Charles up, but you knew Max wanted to know how long he could have with you. “He’s in Nice for a meeting. A few hours at least.”

The hatred for your husband had led you into the arms of Max, his rival and head of the Verstappen familie. The three families would meet each quarter for negotiations and settle disputes, or at least that was what it was meant for, but they just used it as a way to flaunt their wealth and success over each other.

It was after the wedding when you went to your first one that Max had caught your lifeless eyes as you sat beside Charles, decked out in a custom designer dress with diamonds strung around your neck, slowly choking you. He had been struck down by the vision before him and had never wanted something for himself so much in his life. He had been willing to go to war for you and he didn’t even know your name. He had learned it soon enough.

“Do you know who he’s meeting?” Max asked. Even when he wasn’t meaning to he was phishing for information, a reflex he couldn’t seem to stop with a mind as sharp as his.

“Please, mijn leeuw, not tonight,” you whined as you buried your face in his neck. (My lion)

“I’m sorry,” he said with a kiss to your forehead before he tipped your chin back to meet his ice-blue eyes. “What do you need from me, liefje?”

“I need to forget. Please, help me forget.”

Max closed his eyes as rage hardened his features and you knew he was rueing the day he let Charles live. The solution to your problem couldn’t be solved with a bullet and although Max knew that, it was still a bitter pill to swallow. He wanted nothing more than to bathe in Charles’ blood for what he had done to you, but the retaliation would be catastrophic. He had too many people relying on him, friends and family alike.

All Max could give you was a few short hours of his time to show you how he would treat you if the circumstances had been kinder. For a few short hours of stolen time he could erase the touch of Charles from your mind.

Max took your hand, his fingers easing your wedding ring off before placing it on the hall table with your handbag. You relished the freedom that came without the constricting band and flexed your fingers like it had been physically painful to wear the gold jewellery. In a way, it had.

Linking his fingers with yours, Max led the way through the apartment and into the bedroom you found comfort in. This should have been the place you called home, the solace you returned to at the day’s end. It was the one place you felt safe, even though just being here put your life in danger. If Charles ever found out you knew you would be dead, your body left somewhere it would never be found.

“Max…do you believe in God?” you asked in the quiet afterwards. Your arm was curled around his waist, fingers tracing the lion tattoo that covered his rib cage. You could feel the time ticking away with each heartbeat in his chest that you rested your head upon.

“No,” he said honestly, his accent thickening with his amusement. “Do you?”

You looked at the slight change in skin tone where your wedding band usually sat and slipped out of his embrace to find your clothes. “I have to,” you whispered as your throat began to tighten at the thought of returning to the cold mansion Charles owned. “There’s got to be something more than this hell. Maybe one day he will answer my prayers.”

Max could remember the feeling of taking over the family business, how he thought he was invincible - godlike even. Now he felt powerless to the situation. He didn’t like the feeling. He wanted to be the one to answer your prayer.

“One day…” he promised himself aloud, missing the way your spine stiffened at the words. There was no guarantee you would survive long enough for him to keep it.

You stared dumbly at the two pink lines and felt the walls of the bathroom constricting around you. You couldn’t imagine bringing a child into the world you were imprisoned in, it was unfair and deadly. What if the babe had dirty blond hair and ice blue eyes? A new fear sent a shudder down your body and you looked at your stomach, nothing to show - yet.

The door crashed off its hinges as Charles busted it in and you screamed at the surprise, cradling your abdomen on reflex.

“I called you ten fucking times!” Charles growled. His eyes narrowed as they scanned the room before settling on the pregnancy tests lined up. For the first time since you had wed him, Charles looked lost for words, and after a moment his hard stare softened. “We are having a baby?”

You couldn’t remember when he ever addressed anything as ‘we’, it was always you and him - separate, not together. You didn’t know how to react to the instant change in him but you nodded stiffly as he waited for an answer.

A smile grew on his face as he stepped forward and pulled your hands away from your stomach to place his own beneath your camisole. “My son, my heir,” he chuckled, the warmth of his palms almost blistering your skin.

“It might be a girl.” You flinch at the look he gave you and muttered an apology. Just because he was suddenly being gentle didn’t mean he would stay that way, especially if he ever found out the child wasn’t his. Nausea rolled through you and you pushed away to hurdle yourself at the toilet before you emptied your stomach.

It wasn’t morning sickness.

It was a sickness of the heart.

You knew if Max were to believe the child was his then he would have no choice but to go to war, it was a matter of pride and family. On the other hand, Charles would never let the child live if it wasn’t his and despite just learning of its existence, you were willing to do anything to protect it. You needed to tread carefully and that meant no more escaping your guards to see Max. It meant playing the good wife, at least for the next eight months.

You could feel his intense stare from across the table, willing you to meet his eyes. Too many times you felt them drifting up from your husband’s hand clasped on your lap only to snap them back down before you could give in. It would do no good to look at Max. You hadn’t seen him since the night before you took the pregnancy test and you had dreaded going to the quarterly meeting.

There was no hiding the bump in the tight dress Charles had chosen for you. There was no way that Max had missed it when you walked in on your husband’s arm. He had seen it and he had questions.

“I’m going to the ladies room,” you excused yourself after the meal, while the men talked business.

“Arthur will go with you,” Charles said with a nod to his younger brother sitting at his other side. “I don’t trust any of these assholes.”

His hand lingered on the small of your back as you stepped out and you glanced across to see Max’s eyes fixated on that touch. Though you did not welcome the hands of your husband, you no longer feared them the way you used to. Charles was far gentler now that you were, potentially, carrying his heir. It could also be Max’s.

A hand clasped over your mouth and silenced the scream that rose in your throat. “It’s me,” Max whispered, soothing your racing heart.

You looked around the powder room wondering how he had made it past Arthur and saw a narrow cleaner’s entrance left open a crack. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“You never came back, never answered my messages.” The hurt in Max’s voice made your chest ache and your hands dropped to the growing swell of your abdomen. He followed that movement, his chest filling with the deep breath he took and the pearl buttons on his shirt started to strain until he exhaled. “I didn’t believe the rumours.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” he asked, the biting tone wanting detailed explanations like you were one of his men answering for your actions.

Your lips parted, ready to tell him exactly what you were sorry for, before they slammed shut. “I should go.”

He caught your arm as you moved past and he pulled you flush against his body to bury his face in your neck. “Tell me, please. I’ll make it happen, I’ll answer your prayers, I’ll go to war for you - for both of you. Just tell me, is it mine?”

The confession threatened to slip past your lips, the truth that you didn’t know, that he very likely could be. The confession threatened to eat you alive like it had done every time you saw one of Max’s men around Monaco. They always managed to get a message to you, but you never had a response to send.

“No,” you muttered as you pushed him away.

He rocked back on his heels but remained steady as he watched you retreat to the exit. “No, it isn’t mine or no, you won’t tell me?”

Your back hit the door and you blindly reached for the handle, sparing one last look at his shimmering eyes so you could remember them a little longer. “Whatever helps you to sleep at night.”

“Dammit, liefje, just tell me. I need to know.”

You broke away at the endearment that weakened your resolve and your shoulders curled in on themselves. “I can’t tell you, Max, because I don’t know. I. Don’t. Know.” Your voice cracked and the weight of those words fell tenfold on your shoulders as your hand slipped from the doorknob. “I don’t know who the father is, Max. I-I’m sorry.”

His strong arms grappled you into a tight embrace as you broke down in them, your knees giving out as you felt his lips on your forehead, smelt his cologne on his neck. “It’s okay, liefje, I'm going to fix this.”

You pulled back with eyes and blinked away the tears as you placed your hand on your belly. “How? What if it’s not yours?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything,” he promised as he tipped your chin back. “Mine or not, this baby is yours and that’s enough.”

A knock sounded at the door and you panicked as Arthur asked if everything was alright. Your reply was muffled as Max stole a kiss and quietly repeated his promise before disappearing back into the cleaner’s room. Wiping your eyes, you unlocked the door and met your brother-in-law’s narrowed eyes before they searched the room behind you. “You’ve been crying.”

“Pregnancy,” you said with a wave of your hand. “It’s called hormones, Tur. Happens all the time, just ask your brother.”

Max’s chair was still empty when you reached the table but he entered from the main door a few minutes later. The mask he often wore in front of those outside the familie was firmly in place as he unbuttoned his suit with one hand and dropped back into his seat, apologising for taking an important call.

“Your men can't handle one evening on their own?” Charles baited over the rim of his wine glass with an antagonising smile.

Max returned the grin with his own as he slipped his phone into his suit jacket. “You have no idea what my men are capable of.”

You could feel the ripples of those words across the table, the feel of a threat in the air. It not only set Charles on edge but Carlos too - the two sharing a look of concern before facing the Dutchman once more.

Max took a mouthful of his gin and tonic and bit into the lime wedge without reacting to the strong citrus taste. Taking his time, he picked up his napkin and cleaned the drops of juice from his fingers before laying it over his lap as everyone watched closely.

It looked as if he were nervously fiddling with his rings under the napkin and Carlos snickered, relaxing back into his chair until your lion spoke again. “But you will…”

The air stilled for a moment as the napkin drifted to the floor and warmth splattered your cheek. You couldn’t think fast enough to process what had happened or why the wetness on your cheek was red. It could have been minutes but it felt like hours before your brain connected the dots and you saw your husband's body slumped in his chair before you, his green eyes open but unseeing.

Across the table, Max had risen to his feet, the fidgeting revealing a silencer he had been screwing onto his gun. He was cold and precise as he took out Carlos next, his accuracy unmatched. Around the seats he went, faster than they could react as the doors were busted open and his second in command arrived. Danny was ready to die protecting Max’s back while you dropped to the floor and prayed for protection of your own.

“We have to get out of here,” Arthur growled as he caught your ankle and dragged you back where he was kneeling, his white chinos turning red as they absorbed his brother’s blood. “Stay low, protect my nephew.”

“Do you have a gun?” you asked with a shaking voice.

“Of course not,” he spat angrily. No one was meant to have weapons at these meetings and you were assuming Max had retrieved his from the reception area before returning.

“Then you’re fucked.” You kicked your Louboutin into his face and scrambled away as he howled in pain, reaching the edge of the table close to Max.

“Liefje, are you alright?”

“Arthur, under there,” you rushed as you pointed behind you, closing your eyes as he lifted the cloth and the muffled gunshot rang out.

“Not anymore.”

“Time to go,” Danny suggested, reloading his magazine and kicking a few bodies to check they were truly dead.

“Is that it?” You asked, hope filling your voice despite the devastation in the room surrounding you.

Daniel threw his head back and laughed but Max just shook his head and said, “This is just the beginning. We just declared war.”

“But they’re dead.”

“Someone will take over, and when they do - we will need to be ready.” Max reached out and wiped the blood from your cheek. “You’re free of him now, you both are.”

Your breath rattled out of you as you felt the weight lift from your shoulders and as the sirens grew in the distance you managed to smile, the first genuine smile in months. Your prayers had finally been answered. “Thank you, mijn leeuw.”

Five Months Later

Ice blue eyes met yours before a piercing cry erupted and Max’s laugh was one of pure joy. “Mijn zoon,” he cooed softly as he rested his cheek on your head and you watched the midwife gently bring your son to your waiting arms.

Tears blurred your vision at the warm comforting weight of his tiny body lying chest to chest with you. You had never felt anything more precious, never held anything more delicate. He was perfect.

“My little lion man,” you whispered, brushing a kiss over the tufts of dark hair he already had. “We love you so much.”

As if he knew what the words meant, his eyelashes fluttered and he peeked them open to bear twin green irises. He would be an heir. He could unite the families. Or, he could tear it all apart.

Only time would tell.

#max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #f #mafia au #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula one imagine #formula one fanfiction

[mead-iocre]

Ducky Turn! | Vivianne Miedema x Reader

You watched as Viv walked into the press conference room, trailing slightly behind Jonas. She was chatting animatedly to Connie, one of the Arsenal staff, and holding a reusable coffee tumbler in one hand. You also know that inside that tumbler is Viv’s favourite coffee "Morning Bliss," a small-batch, artisanal coffee roaster that you had bought from one of the local coffee shops in your area. She would sometimes bring a small bag of coffee beans to training or match days, and when you would ask her where she’ll find supplies to make the coffee, she’ll reply back with a“if there’s a will, there’s a way”. It’s become the only brand of coffee that Viv drinks.

Every morning, Viv likes to indulge herself in what she calls her “ritual”. The dutch begins her ritual by carefully measuring out the perfect amount of Morning Bliss beans. She prefers a medium roast, with notes of caramel and toasted almonds that allow the perfect balance of sweet to the bitter. She would grind the beans to perfection and then use the fancy sleek, stainless steel drip coffee maker that she had treated herself to a few months ago. As she waits for the brewing to complete, she would bask in the stillness and the quiet that is a rarity these days– or at least during the last 3 years. 

Viv would then pour herself a cup, inhaling deeply as the steam rises and the aroma fills the empty kitchen. As she takes that first sip of her perfectly brewed coffee, Viv could not help but smile. For her, starting the day than with a cup of her favourite coffee is the second best thing to start the day. The first is–

She hears the pitter patter of little feet before she sees her. 

“Mama!”

Evelyn, or Evie for short, is the best parts of you and Viv. Everyone says Evelyn is a spitting image of Viv—from the blonde curls that tumble down her back in unruly waves, to her vibrant hazel eyes, flecked with hints of green and gold. Evelyn has your nose, petite and slightly upturned, and dotted with the same freckles across her cheeks that Viv loves to kiss every night before bed. 

You say it’s too early to tell what kind of person your daughter will grow up to be, but Viv swears she’s your mini me. Viv says you’ve both got the same stubbornness (although you would argue Viv is also a contender), the same outgoing personality, and the same sheer curiosity for the world around her. Like you, your little girl is always eager to explore new places and try new things. Whether it's taking the dogs out on new hiking trails, or embarking on a family camping trip, her adventurous spirit knows no bounds.

During her ballet class, Evelyn loves to wear colourful ribbons and bows in her hair. She keeps the same ribbons in her hair during football practice too. When she laughs, her nose crinkles up in the most adorable way, just like Viv. She loves to burst into a song or hum the tune of her favourite music, just like you do. She is your pride and joy, and your greatest accomplishment in life.

But she is also a whirlwind of energy that leaves a trail of chaos and laughter in her wake wherever she goes.

Viv recognises that gleam in Evie’s eyes and the furrow in her eyebrows as she glances at the last two steps leading to the kitchen.

Her daughter was going to jump.

Viv hastily puts her cup down and lurches forward, catching the tornado that is her child. There is not a day that goes by where Viv does not thank her athleticism for being able to keep up with her little daredevil. 

She grasps her fearless little girl under her arms just before she can land the short distance to the ground. “Mama, Ducky jump!”

“I saw that, Ducky” She settles Evelyn on her hip, pressing a few kisses to her rosy cheek still warm from sleep. “But I’d rather not see that again. How many times have I told you you can’t jump from there”

“But I jump, Mama. Like a duck jumping in water!” Ducks are the little girl’s latest fixation– she loves going to the pond to watch the ducks, she loves to talk about ducks, she loves her duck stuffed animals etc. Viv thinks your daughter’s fascination with ducks was inevitable. When Evelyn was born, she was sweetly bundled in a light yellow blanket with a matching yellow beanie to warm her little head. Your private midwife briefly commented about how Evelyn little lips were constantly pursed in a pout whenever she slept, like that of a little duckling. Ever since then, “Ducky” became one of her nicknames.

Evelyn points one little chubby finger towards the kitchen counter where a plate of bite-sized waffles await her. 

“Waffles!” 

Viv snags the plate of waffles off the counter and deposits her duck-obsessed child into her booster chair. She hands her a fork and takes a seat on the chair right beside her. “Waffles yellow– like duckies, Mama!” 

Viv smiles endearingly at her daughter, all cherubic face and bouncy curls. “Just like duckies, Evie” 

——————————

Now at the press conference, you watch as Viv and Jonas take their seats in front of the press, politely saying a few greetings to some familiar faces. Viv’s eyes meet yours briefly and she offers you a quick wink. 

Jonas leans forward in his seat and starts the press. “Hello, everyone. Let’s get this started then– I’ve got Vivianne Miedema with me today”

Being married to a footballer had it’s perks– free match tickets, the cool events, club merchandise, and the occasional Adidas billboards of your wife which your daughter loves to excitedly point out every time she spots one. However, sometimes it seems not everyone understands the difference between the Viv, the mum and wife, versus Vivianne Miedema, the footballer. 

“Everyone” being your toddler. 

She still hasn’t fully grasped the fact that her Mama can’t be on her beck and call, especially while she is at work. At the age of 3, she can’t tell the difference between the football that she plays at school and the football that her Mama plays. To her, it’s exactly the same. 

After all, during her football practice if she looks to the sidelines where the other mummies and daddies are watching and yells for her Mama, her Mama will come running. In Evie’s mind, if she wants Mama, she’ll go to Mama. 

You glance down at the little girl tucked in your arms. She was all buzz and energy throughout the match, crawling from lap to lap, jumping, dancing and shouting. It was no surprise that she was starting to doze off now. You were standing off to one side of the room, leaning against the wall to support the weight resting on your front. Evie was curled up in your arms, her eyes tiredly blinking open and closed a few times. Her tiny body was limp in your arms, her breath was evening out, and just like when she first came into this world, her little rosy lips were formed into a pout.

Just like a little duckling.

But despite your soft whispers to try to and lull her to sleep, your stubborn child was determined to fight the pull of slumber. You knew she wanted to see her Mama, just as she always did after a match. It was their routine, and Evie hated breaking routines. 

“First question for Jonas…” You tune out the press for a brief moment, reaching out to adjust the yellow noise cancelling headphones that were slipping off of Evelyn’s head when all of a sudden she opens her eyes and sits up in your arms. You didn’t have to guess what had woken up your child when you hear it. “– now a question for Viv Miedema…”

What was once a sleepy and tired toddler is now gone. In it’s place is a little girl who has realised her favourite person is in the room. Her eyes were now bright and alert, craning her neck to follow the sound of her mama’s voice booming from the speakers around the room. 

“…don't really think I celebrate goals but all the girls came up to me and they were taking the mick out of me because they were like 'You were actually celebrating’–“

You should’ve anticipated it. You should’ve know it. But by then it was too late.

“Mama!” 

Your daughter yells for Viv, lurching forward with her arms open and fingers pointing towards where Viv was sitting at the front of the room. You had no choice but to crouch down so you could stead your suddenly wiggly child. 

“Ducky, that’s enough” You speak in a hushed but firm tone. You knew that if you were to use your “Mummy voice” it would likely result in tears, and your daughter was not a quiet crier. “Mama is working right now”

But Evie was very determined to get to her mama, hastily trying to tug away from your hold on her arm. You knew heads were turning towards the both of you.

“Want Mama!” 

“Evelyn–“ You try to hug her, wanting to pick her up and run out of the room before she causes anymore distractions. Right now she was the epitome of an incoming toddler tantrum. Her chest heaved with each shaky breath, her small shoulders rising and falling with the weight of her emotions. Her cheeks flushed pink with frustration, and her fists clenched at her sides. 

“No no no no!” Her favourite word as of late and she was proudly demonstrating that she knew just how to use it. "No NO!"

Her big, doe-like eyes were glistening with unshed tears. Her bottom lip quivered as she stood cocooned in your arms, but furiously squirming away from your hold. In your daughter’s mind, being told that she can’t go to her Mama right now was the most devastating thing in the world, and the injustice of it all was threatening to overwhelm her.

“–Liefje” 

You look up as the sound of your wife’s voice and the familiar nickname echos around the room through the microphone. You crane your neck and you spot her now standing up from her chair, holding the mic to her mouth. She gives you a knowing smile. Viv always knows what to do.

“I’ll take her, Liefje. Give her to me” Viv waves a hand, beckoning you both closer. 

You pick up your still teary, pouty daughter and hoist her up to your hip. You walk the short distance towards the front of the room where Viv and Jonas are waiting. 

“Looks like Mama wants you, ducky” You murmur softly in Evie’s ear, pushing the curls of hair away from her eyes. Like a switch, your daughter perks up in your arms, twisting her head towards where you were heading. You could feel her little legs kicking the air in excitement. What a mood switch. 

You stop by the side of the small stage, placing Evie on her feet and quickly grab her hairband that was in your pocket. “Wait one second, Ducky. Let’s fix your hair.” There were cameras around and you would imagine that 10 years from now, your daughter will never forgive you if you let her stand in front of the cameras with a bird nest on top of her head. 

The hairband dangled from your fingers as you attempted to tame Evie’s unruly locks into a neat ponytail. But your daughter was having none of it. She wriggled, clearly eager to get to her Mama, as she batted your hands away.

And like always, Viv knew just what to do to keep your daughter from fussing. Temporarily. “Hi Ducky”

“Mama!” Chuckles round the room when mother and daughter exchanged waves of greetings to each other as if they hadn’t seen each other for days when in reality it had only been a few hours. 

You sighed, a hint of amusement twinkling in your eyes as you gently combed through Evie’s hair with your fingers. “Almost done" you coaxed, your voice gentle and patient as you worked to wrangle your little girl’s wayward curls. You settled on just pushing the front pieces of hair away from her eyes with the hairband. “All done. Now you can go to Mama” 

Evie did not need to be told twice. 

Her little legs pumped furiously and her curly hair bounced behind her. She ran around the table, past Jonas’ chair, to where Viv was standing waiting for her. Viv swings her daughter up to her hip and you watch as Viv leans close to whisper by her ear– most likely prompting Evie to greet the journalists and cameras. Your suspicions were confirmed when your little social butterfly happily waves a hand and bellows a little “hello!”

Your smile widens when her greeting is echoed by all the journalists, some waving back just as eagerly as your toddler. 

Viv then proceeds to sit back down, placing Evie on her lap. Your wife adjusts her chair and shuffles closer to the mic. “Sorry for that everyone…” 

She gestures to the toddler who is currently conspiring with the Arsenal manager. “This one is going through a phase where I am her favourite person, and I’m making the most of it until she realises her Mummy is more fun than me” 

Laughter rings around the room, but all you give the grinning dutch at the table is an eye roll. You know Evie loves you, but her bond with Viv was something special. Evelyn is Viv’s little shadow. 

One of the journalists kindly gestures for you to take the seat next to him in front row of the table and you thank him as you take a seat. 

“Right then. Let’s continue…” Jonas starts the press again, and this time, your toddler is happily sitting on her Mama’s lap. 

———————————-

So far the press is continuing on as normal. Journalists are prepared with questions for Viv and Jonas. “My question is for Viv.” You crane your neck to see a journalists a few rows behind you hold a hand up. “You have broken countless records in England. Arsenal literally put you on a pedestal with a temporary statue outside the Emirates Stadium, a first for a female player. Do things like that matter?” Viv leans forward towards the mic. “No not at all. I’ve already had five great years but I indicated to the club that we have to do better. Other players have done that too. Hopefully the club can bring in some reinforcements this summer– 

“AH!” Evie leans up, her little head nearly clashing into her Mama’s chin if it weren’t for Viv’s reflexes, and speaks directly into the mic. She giggles when it echos back. 

You wince as the mic feedback rings loudly in the room. 

“–Ducky, this mic is not for you. Mama’s trying to answer the question” Viv whispers but it obviously gets caught by the microphone and broadcasted to the entire room. You press your lips together to conceal your giggle as you watch your wife attempt to coax your daughter into letting go of the mic stand. Unfortunately, it seems your daughter is very fixated on the microphone because she tries to grab for it again. 

But Viv is faster. She hauls Evie off her lap for a second, turning her around so she is facing Viv and not the mic. 

“Ducky turn!” Your daughter whines loudly. She is clearly displeased at being turned away from her new toy. She pouts, twisting her body back around, and points at the mic. “Ducky turn! Ducky turn!”

You never though you would say this, but maybe there are consequences in teaching your daughter how to share and take turns. 

And your wife seems to think the same. “Well…at least you all have proof that we are teaching her how to take turns properly” She chuckles endearingly at the pouty toddler on her lap. 

“Okay” Viv relents with a sigh. “Ducky gets a turn.” She lifts Evie and turns her back around so she is facing the rest of the room, the press, and her shiny new toy– the black microphone. 

You shake your head as you watch your wife visibly soften. Evie has Viv wrapped around her little finger from the day she was born. Viv is almost always unable to deny her daughter anything, even if she claims to be the more stricter parent out of the two of you. 

“Since it’s Ducky’s turn, why don’t you have a go at answering the questions then?” Viv pulls the chair closer towards the table so Evie can reach the mic more comfortably. She directs the question to everyone in the room, clearly giving the reporters permission to ask Evie some questions. 

Not a second later, a few hands are up in the air. You smile at the sight of these very professional reporters taking the time to entertain your daughter’s antics, no matter how silly they may be. 

Jonas playfully gasps and leans into his mic. “Wow Evie, look at that! So many people want to ask you questions” 

“What do you think, ducky?” Viv asks the grinning toddler in her lap. “Which question shall we take?”

Your daughter cutely scrunches her face in concentration, one chubby little finger tapping her lips as if she was contemplating the secrets of the universe. You watch as she scans her choices of eager hands, and then points to a man sitting by the front row. You watch as Evie lean up to whisper something to her Mama and then turns back around with a shy smile. 

“Evie will take a question from the man in the front row with the yellow tie” Of course, it’s the yellow tie. Anything yellow is guaranteed to win your daughter over.

“Hello Miss Evelyn. My question for you is: what did you think of your Mum scoring two goals today?”

You watch as Viv pulls the mic closer towards Evie, giving her a nod of support when your daughter turns to her for encouragement.

“Uh…” You cringe internally as your daughter presses her mouth as close to the mic as possible, practically gnawing on it, and the sound is magnified by the speakers. The press seem to take it to stride, a few coos of encouragement sounding around the room. “…I like duckies”

“Oh! That’s nice” Bless the journalist. You doubt that bit would make it to the final draft of the article. “Ducks are quite nice, aren’t they?”

Your daughter nods and hums into the mic, wriggling from her spot on your wife’s lap, clearly eager to talk more about her favourite subject. “Duckies yellow!”

You watch as the journalists couldn't help but be charmed by Evelyn’s enthusiasm, their professional demeanour melting away as they listened to your spirited little girl. Some even leaned in closer, eager to catch every word she says, the cameras capturing the moment.

“Ducks are yellow, clever girl! But let Mama have a turn now, please” You try to stifle your laughter behind your hand as Viv has to practically wrestle the mic away from Evie, grabbing both of her little hands in one of hers to settle the mischievous toddler. 

———————————————

Viv was more than happy to continue the rest of the press with her daughter in her lap, even if she has to routinely stop and grab a little hand as it beelines for the microphone. Viv lets Evie babble into the microphone a more few times and she couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride in her heart. She may be a footballer on the pitch, but her greatest joy was sitting right here in her lap, eager to share in her world, one stolen microphone at a time.

“Do you want to say anything to Mummy?” Viv points you out for your daughter to see. It was already nearing the end of the press conference. "Anything to say to Mummy before we finish?”

Your daughter thinks for a moment, her face titling to the side and her nose adorably scrunching up in concentration. Thinking about what to say to your Mummy is a very big task for a 3 year old. The room goes silent as everyone waits with baited breath. 

“…I- I love you, Mummy” 

Hey, my loves!

It's been while since I posted and that's mainly due to life getting in the way + not being inspired to write. By some miracle, I somehow managed to finish writing this short little fic (featuring a different player this time– surprise!). This was inspired by seeing that cute video of Alex Morgan and her daughter doing post-match interviews lol

hopefully this will only motivate me to keep on writing.

I appreciate all of you, thanks for being patient

-- butter

#woso x reader #vivianne miedema x reader #vivianne miedema #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso #viv miedema

[totaly-obsessed]

Cupid

Lia Wälti x reader

-> Valentine's Day with Lia and your Daughter

-> thank you @babsisbakery for the poem, and thank you @alotofpockets for the dutch translation help and conversation

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Small hands tugged at your ear, ripping you from your very much-needed sleep. Once you saw your daughter’s adorable little eyes and the excited smile on her lips you just couldn’t be mad anymore.

“Mama, we need to start!” In a whisper shout, she bounced up and down, ready to get the day going.

She was right – you did need to start. Together with Amelie, you had planned to treat your fiancée to a wonderful Wednesday. It was Valentine's Day after all.

Still groggy with sleep you let the small blonde pull you out of bed before she gave you a moment to gather yourself, as she handed you slippers that matched hers.

Downstairs in the kitchen, Amelie had already laid out her little apron and quickly pulled it over her pajamas before turning around, gesturing to you to bind it behind her.

“All done my love. Let’s start with the waffles huh?”

Just 20 minutes later a hearty and big breakfast was cooked up, and Amelie nervously grabbed the card you had crafted with her beforehand.

“What if she doesn’t like it, Mama?”

Crouching down in front of the five-year-old got harder the older you got – but never in a million years would you stop doing it.

“That’s impossible my love! Lia loves everything that you make for her. She keeps it in her cubby – you’ve seen it before!”

Technically Ames was only your daughter – but with a no-show father and Lia falling in love with both you and your little companion at first sight, she was her ‘Momie’ in every way the small blonde could wish for.

While Lia had no genetic input whatsoever – Amelia could be and look a lot like her. They had the same kind of smile and funny laugh, but their stare could be terrifying.

“You come with me?”

How could you say no to that face? So together you walked up the stairs, and the once excited five-year-old had turned into a nervous wreck, hiding behind your legs and making herself as heavy as she could.

With a quiet squeak, the door opened as you pushed it, giving your daughter a slight nudge towards the bed, where you could already see Lia trying to spy through her lashes giving it her best to hide a smile.

“Momie?” the pudgy hand that wasn’t holding the card nudged your fiancée – who continued to play dead to the world.

“Momie – wake up please!”

Like in a bad movie Lia suddenly sat up with a big smile, stretching her arms wide with an obviously fake yawn.

“Good Morning Mon petit amour!”

Amelie panicked, or rather froze on the spot – immediately turning to you with wide eyes and Lia just knew that she would flee if nothing happened.

“What do you have there my love?”

A hesitant step towards the bed and the small blonde was close enough for her Momie to grab her. The loud squeal of surprise that filled the room was miles better than the nervous shuffle of feet.

“Wrote it just for you Momie!”

With an exaggerated gasp, the brunette footballer opened the pink envelope to discover a handcrafted card. It was white and on it a big heart, that you had to draw because a certain someone wasn’t happy with her tries and had about five meltdowns because of it. It was filled with little folded-up papers in pink and purple – above the heart she had made you write “I love you to pieces” after you had tried to help with her writing.

On those little papers were reasons why you and Ames loved the Swiss, but if it came to your opinion, there weren’t enough notes in the world that could do the love you held for the woman justice.

“Oh, will you read it to me?” Lia had tears in her eyes once she saw the small poem in wriggly handwriting. She pulled your daughter to her chest, looking at the card together while you snapped some secret pictures. “I’ll help you read them, okay?”

“To Momie,

From many tantrums to always making me laugh,

You are my favorite hero, kicking ass on the pitch

And being my personal chef at home,

And finding time to play with me and my Dinos.

I couldn’t have wished for a better mom.

-         Your Ames!”

Lia’s eyes were filled with tears as she pressed kiss after kiss on Amelia's messy hair. Of course, the Swiss knew that you had massively helped her with writing, but Amelia had such a way of speaking that she could definitely recognize it in there.

The five-year-old was proud of herself and whipped her head back from Lia behind you.

“Breakfast now! Come Momie – I made you waffles!”

Due to the rain last week, the fixture against the London City Lioness has been pushed to today. So after spending the day in blissful peace, it was time to go to the game. Wrangling a little excited 5-year-old girl dressed as Cupid into the car was much harder than anticipated, and at some point, Lia had to leave early.

Viv greeted you at the car as you helped Amelie out of the car. She was still a little unsure about her knee, so she opted to sit in the stands, keeping you company.  “Wow – Look at you!”

“Vivi! I’m Cupid!”

Dressed in a pink and gold dress, white gloves, and a golden hairband. On her back was a pair of small, white, feathery wings – in her hands a tiny bow with fake arrows that had heart-shaped tips.

“I can see that lieve schat. Let’s get you two inside huh?”

Watching the game with a young child is always a bit different than it would be without – but you wouldn’t change it for the world. Amelia was excited for the first half, screaming her little lungs out when Lia scored from a corner kick off of Katie.

As a celebration, the Swiss imitated pulling back the string of an arrow and letting it go in your direction – effectively sending you a heart accompanied with a wink.

Your relationship was no secret by far, the brunette loved to brag about you and her daughter. And no matter how much she boasted about you, you would always blush – so seeing your already red face on the big screen gave you a fright. Viv and Ames just laughed at you.

During the second half, Amelia was busy reading a book she had brought for her. While she had gotten Lia’s athleticism she had gotten your intense love for books, and once she started, she wouldn’t stop until it was finished. Or at least she wouldn’t stop that easily.

Once the final whistle blew, the Arsenal girls winning 3-0, Viv escorted you down to the pitch – you not knowing the way was her excuse but in reality, she just wanted to see Beth. As soon as Amelia’s feet hit the grass, she was gone running around with Kyra, Alessia, and Victoria.

“Did you see my goal? Scored it just for you!” Lia’s smile was enticing and she didn’t wait long to pull you into a breathtaking kiss, only stopping once Katie fake gagged next to you.

Before she could say what she wanted to a small body slammed into her. Amelia, of course. In her hand, a beautiful white rose that you definitely didn’t bring from home.

“For me? Oh, thank you my personal Cupid, doing such a good job!”

Now down on her knees, the brunette engulfed your daughter in a bear hug – careful not to crush the cupid wings on her back.

“It’s from Rue Rue!”

The five-year-old skipped back to Ruesha Littlejohn who gave her a high five and a piece of candy while Katie could only stare at the rose in her hands. Not even noticing you and Lia nearly collapsing because of laughter.

Cupid had delivered her a rose from Rue Rue, her ex-girlfriend…

#woso x reader #woso #woso imagine #woso imagines #arsenal wfc x reader #katie mccabe x reader #lia walti x reader #lia wälti x reader #lia wälti #lia walti

[ferrstappen]

unscheduled school visit l Max Verstappen

a/n: hello! i got this quick idea while working on some requests/school work. hope you like it and pls pls feel free to leave feedback <3 it really motivates me <3

pairing: dad!Max Verstappen x female reader.

summary: the twins' teacher calls, the twins got in trouble. Max is in disbelief.

Max was a strict parent. 

Not in the way people may think, and not in the least similar to how his dad was with him, but Max always was concerned on how the twins were doing in school, only in first grade, but still. He was always working on instilling discipline and hard work to Luca and Mila, so in the future they can be whatever the hell they want to be. Max knew money was never going to be an issue, so it was up to them to take all the opportunities that meant.

He always tried to take them to museums when they joined races, often tried to switch languages, even encouraging other drivers and people in the grid who interacted with the kids to speak in their different languages. 

It was always fun to watch Charles speaking to Luca in French or Italian as Luca slowly tried to come up with an answer and was always met with a high five, or Mila asking Checo why Carlos had a different accent. 

The smile never disappeared from your face when you get home from running an errand or attending a meeting that couldn’t be held on Zoom, to Luca and Mila chatting about what they learned on school today or silently doing their homework on the family room while Max watched them, himself also getting some things in the meantime.

The point is the twins were smart, both you and Max putting all your efforts to gently and effectively find what they like, what they don’t. 

You know your kids. Both of you would put your hands on fire because of them. You trusted them because Max and you were raising them good and the twins were great beyond words could explain. 

So when you receive a call from school telling you to come over, you quickly reached Max who was on the sim, driving through Imola with his eyes closed. 

“Babe, school called and we have to go,” As soon as you announced the news Max turned around, seat and steering wheel lightly shaking. 

“What do you mean? What happened?” Max was instantly on his feet.

“I don’t know, Max. Their teacher called,” You told your husband as his eyes opened widely. 

“Their? Is it both of them?” Max was in complete disbelief of what he was hearing.

“It appears so. I’ll cancel a meeting and we go.”

You didn’t leave him alone for thirty seconds, you swear, but when you came back Max was on the phone, asking the teacher to put Mila on the phone. 

He knew his daughter too well. She was outspoken, assertive, didn’t think twice. Luca was more cautious, wise and maybe a little timid. 

“Pap, he was trying to pull Luca’s hair and stealing his crayons, and Luca was letting him because he didn’t want to cause any trouble!” an agitated Mila informed Max, speaking a broken dutch. 

“Are you okay?” Max calmly asked his frantic daughter. He knew she was disquieted, trying to sound more sure of herself than she actually was. 

“Yes,” she said in dutch, but in the back her teacher told her in a sweet voice to speak in a language they could all understand. 

“Okay baby girl, mama and I are on our way, see you in a bit,”

During the drive to La Condamine to reach the International School of Monaco, you discovered a side of your husband you had yet to see. It was fun. 

“She is not apologizing!” Max told you, eyes not leaving the narrow road.

“Max, she pulled the kid’s hair,” You reminded your husband, who softly shook his head in disagreement. 

“Yes, because the idiot kid was bothering Luca and pulled his hair! If anything that kid should be apologizing to Luca, his sister just defended him!” His lisp was more prominent as you reached the parking lot overlooking the several yachts.

Max noticed the other child’s parents already walking inside the school, there weren’t many students in the Early Years building. He pressed the gas harder than necessary, making the engine of the family Aston Martin roar like they were in the paddock. 

Your eyes rolled at his antics, but still it made your insides feel giddy at the thought of your husband being protective and loving. 

Luca’s arms were wrapped around you as soon as you walked inside. Kneeling to reach his height, your heart broke at the sight of his disheveled hair and wet cheeks, his beautiful eyes red. Luca tried to not sniff and stop the tears, trying to be brave when he felt your hands on his cheeks and kissing his forehead, asking if he was okay. 

At the same time, Max sat next to Mila whose eyes didn’t leave the other kid’s sight, whom you learned his name was Oliver. Max knew his daughter wanted to shed a tear, but didn’t let it show, so he just gave her a reassuring look before listening to the teacher who had the three of them in charge.

Curtly shaking hands with Oliver’s parents, Max politely ignoring the poor attempt of one of “the idiot kid’s” dad to start a conversation, obviously starstruck by your husband the World Champion. 

Yes, it was Monaco and everyone knew each other, and it didn’t take a genius to deduce the two Verstappen named kids on the class were the children of the Max Verstappen, but he was often away and it was mostly you who attended parent-related stuff, but now there was the chance to have a conversation directly with him. 

Oh well. 

The four got inside the car, Max adjusting the seats before getting in the driver seat. Mila and Luca loudly sighed, knowing what followed.

“I don’t know how to address this. I’m moved and proud that you look out and defend each other, but M, baby, pulling someone else’s hair is not the way,” you softly told your daughter. “and Luca, honey, I know it’s hard but when someone invades your space and is rude, but you can tell the teacher before it makes you feel bad and leads to this,” 

Max’s eyes followed the twins movements through the rearview mirror as you talked to them, soon reaching your home. You grabbed the backpacks and Max helped the twins get out of the car.

He reached Luca’s door first. When he was out, he left a kiss on his forehead and ruffled his hair, softly reminding his carbon copy that he was a little lion, still with lots to learn, but no one ever could make him feel like this. 

Then he reached Mila’s door. Her eyes now were a bit glossy, but he knew she was just like him, Mila would never show weakness. He reminded her that she can take some weight off, let her guard down with her parents before kissing her hair. 

You watched the scene unfold from afar, not knowing what he told them, but sure they were the right words.

Then giggles reached your ears, eyes immediately rolling. 

He was fist bumping Mila, giving her a nod of approval.

For God’s sake, this wouldn’t be the first time you’re called to school, that’s for sure.

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen au #max verstappen #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen blurb #dad!max verstappen #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen x you #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #Max Verstappen fanfic

[sebscore]

DRIVER X TGD HEADCANONS | SEBASTIAN VER.

pairing: sebastian vettel x driver!reader

author’s note: the legend himself won the poll so here are some nice facts about the dynamics between seb and our gzd!!

headcanons masterlist

• • • • • • •

:: They first met in 2011 when she was 11 years-old and he was 23 years-old at a karting competition.

:: She won and he gave her the trophy at the podium ceremony.

:: Y/N was freaking out, because she looked up to him and had a poster of him in her room.

:: Him and his father started helping her family out with karting, mechanics, sponsoring, etc.

:: Is he planning on posting a throwback photo of him mentoring her on his Instagram?

:: Absolutely!

:: He was mistaken for her dad once.

:: He wanted to die, she was having the time of her life.

:: Sebastian got her in contact with Susie Wolff, who got her in contact with Toto, who then sighed her to the Mercedes Junior Team.

:: He saw the natural talent she had for racing and didn’t want others to discourage her from pursuing her dreams.

:: There is this wholesome video of Sebastian trying to talk to a visible agitated Y/N. He puts his arm around her shoulder, and stops her from walking away and attempts to calm her down.

:: He was successful doing so :)

:: His daughters look up to her and Seb is very proud of that, because she’s one of the only people he would trust to be his kids’ role model.

:: The first time she ever overtook him in a race, he wasn’t even mad about it- just proud.

:: Y/N has a bunch of Seb helmets in her home that he’s given her over the years and all of them include sweet messages from him.

:: In conclusion: he’s her uncool grid dad (we all know who the cool one is).

taglist :: @i0veless @missskid @missthem @rosesintj @evans-dejong @thehistoryone @dreamycloudsworld @alonsogirlie @muushmeg @topguncultleader @the-great-adventures-of-me @love13tter @xcharlottemikaelsonx @kiwisa @starkwlkr @nora_moon @princesselle2111 @valluvsu @thatsadsmallchild @babyyoda89 @milkbreadforlife @fxllfaiiry @hc-dutch @its-ash-not-grey @princessbetsy123 @mehrmonga @nyenye @screechingtrashkid @ahnneyong @holybatflapexpert @itsnotgray @beautycinders @rowansshit @uhhevie @revengze @nylaslife @majx00 @multi-universe21 @jaydensluv @isasalom @gentlemonsterjennie1 @appledashhh @breathinfive @lighttsoutlewis @champomiel @ooooohmicky @koufaxx @flannelforthetoads

@mysticfalls01 @ghostcorazon @mango-bear @totally-random-person @youkissedareaderinthedark @phoenix-luv @hamilton-mount @calcaneous @aurora-maria @idkiwantchocolatee @anonymous-platypus1

#f1 fic #f1 fics #f1 x reader #formula 1 fic #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel x oc #sebastian vettel x y/n #sebastian vettel #sebastian vettel x you #f1 x you #f1 x oc

[cowboyfromh3ll]

I thought of maybe a fic where the reader is Annabelle and Dutch's daughter, and Arthur ends up falling in love with her and they have to keep their relationship a secret from Dutch

The Passion Of Lovers

(Arthur Morgan x Dutch’s Daughter!Reader)

Warnings: uhh slightly suggestive

Your father often told you, “The passion of lovers is for death.”. It was a tired statement. One you had heard a thousand times, and one that marked the beginning of another autocratically superfluous lecture as to why you were supposed to stay away from men, and not date anyone he did not approve of (Not that he ever approved of anyone to begin with). As the daughter of Dutch Van Der Linde, you were raised to have nothing but the highest of expectations. You were spoiled rotten, a gesture that he hoped would show not only his love for you, but also served as a distraction for the lifestyle that you lived. You supposed living in a tent in the woods wasn’t the most illustrious thing in the world. There were certainly more girls your age out there privileged enough to live a life far more cushioned than your own, but you considered yourself fortunate enough.

And of course, the money you did get was nice. Not only that, your father made sure that you, and every member of the gang, knew that you were a top priority, and your needs came first. They were there to protect you at all costs. It was as close as one could get to being treated like royalty in a gang of outlaws on the run.

Especially after your mother had passed. Oh, how your father increased in overbearingness. You were never allowed to be out on your own. He would insist on accompanying you on every single errand you went off to do. And if he wasn’t available to accompany you, he would send you off with his most trusted men.

One of them being Arthur Morgan.

As grown as you were, and as much as you believed you could take care of yourself, you did quite like his company. Having a burling and intimidating man standing by your side certainly slowed the frenetic pace at which idiot men would hit on you during your daily errands. Some who were still bold enough got told off as he moved you behind him, the more unfortunately confident ones being decked square in the face. It was always quite amusing seeing Dutch fuss over his beloved daughter once she got back from town, a clearly disheveled and bruised Arthur standing next to her, indicating something had happened.

You’d briefly explain how Arthur had protected you from an extremely assertive man, and you’d be pampered and coddled even more by Dutch. Arthur got his praise of course, eventually becoming your primary caretaker when Dutch wasn’t around. At some point, he had more so begun assuming the job, jumping up whenever you said you were heading into town rather than waiting for Dutch’s appointment. You’d approach Arthur privately, and only after Arthur had agreed to accompany you, you would inform your father of your departure.

“The passion of lovers is for death.” you’d repeat in your head. But you did not care. While you were more or less required to give Dutch a full report of what you had done while you were out, down to what roads you went down and what items you glanced at, you did omit some details.

You certainly weren’t about to recount to your father the details of you and Arthur’s haste, open mouth kisses. Your hushed exchanges of “I love you”. The way you held onto Arthur’s arm while in town, leaning on his bulking figure. You certainly would not tell him that, never.

Perhaps Dutch had never foreseen his plan backfiring in such a way. His intentions had been to keep men away from you, but your very own personal bodyguard who was supposed to scare those same men away, ended up pining after you. Arthur had been the one who fell first. Prior to your arrangements, he had found you quite beautiful. But like any man who got in the proximity of Dutch’s daughter, he was strictly prohibited from getting too friendly with you. Though any time allotted for the two of you to be alone proved to be more than enough to get to know you. Being alone with you actually helped Arthur realize just how little he knew you before, despite the fact you were in the gang for as long as he was. To be honest, besides your beauty, he found your overindulgence in money to be quite baffling, especially considering the position the rest of the gang was in. His initial reaction was to find you snobbish, but while it was true you were spoiled rotten, you had your rebellious side, which he came to love.

Your biggest gesture of rebellion had been dating Arthur. Dutch had hoped his money and gifts could keep your young female mind away from boys for long enough, but this ended up backfiring as well. You were left with no unsatisfied desires except one, and that was relationships. And your fulfillment in every other aspect only seemed to highlight the severity of your only predicament. Just weeks after you and Arthur had begun your hidden love affair, you had begun to realize just how much of you was left untapped emotionally. He introduced you to a world of experiences you would’ve otherwise never been able to experience with Dutch’s knowledge of your personal life.

While the arrangement itself was risky, the two of you never did indulge in risky behavior around camp. As painstaking as it was watching Arthur sleep alone on his cot, no one there to soothe and aide his loneliness, it was all worth it in the end. This meant no overt friendliness besides the allowed amount by your father. No secret kisses, no lascivious brushing of the limb, no leering gazes that would catch the attention of anyone. Nothing at all. You did not even let the girls in one your secret.

Hushed gossip sessions would become, in a way, amusing for you. Their compassionate admissions of sympathy for you in being disallowed to date were met with “That’s just how it is”. Before dating Arthur you might’ve agreed with them, wallowing in your own self pity at how your feminine urges were left unfulfilled. You might’ve snickered along with them over a boy you found cute. But now, whenever they did bring up a possible bachelor to you, you dismissed them with a wave of your hand, clicking your tongue in disapproval before saying “He’s not my type.”. There was some truth in it, you doubted the son of the general store owner could keep you satisfied the same way Arthur did. Dating a regular man would be more akin to torture than it would be pleasureable.

The girls often insisted your father had gotten to you; how his discourse over relationships and dating and the passion of lovers was so deeply ingrained in your brain, that even you had begun to believe it and take it to heart. You could argue that the only thing your father had ingrained in you were impossibly high standards, that and the ability to sneak around and lie with competence so incredibly exceptional it seemed to be a genetic inheritance that ran through your blood.

Arthur’s companionship seemed to be the last puzzle piece to the bigger picture. You often thought of eloping altogether, but you knew you could not escape your father forever. His embraces and osculations were enough to sate your desires until the next time you were alone with him. Going on last minute dates and copulating in the middle of the woods made the prolonged and agonizing wait seem not so bad.

Perhaps the passion of lovers had been the death for some. Namely your mother. But Arthur was more than capable of protecting you from such a fate. The passion of lovers was for life.

.

.

.

.

.

.

The Passion Of Lovers - Bauhaus 🦇

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead fandom #red dead redemption 2 x reader #red dead redemption community #van der linde gang x reader #writing #red dead fanfiction #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x reader fluff #secret relationship #Dutch's Daughter Reader

[bebebelll]

does anyone know her dad? | dn3 x reader (part 3)

paring: daniel ricciardo x toto's daughter!reader, daniel ricciardo x wolff & shcumacher!reader warning: nothing (google translated german because i studied that language for 2 years and dont know a single word anymore) notes: part 1, part 2 and part 4 are recommended reading

ynquads god i love what the us grand prixs do to this man. there's something in the air and the cowboy hats are hot. i truly feel really blessed to have met you, to spend my life with you, to have been by your side and to have had you by mine. i just really love you ❤️❤️❤️

liked by danielricciardo, susie_wolff and 1 184 537 others

username haha jumping off a building now bye

danielricciardo you really love me ❤️

ynquads i really really love you danielricciardo really really really? ynquads really really really really danielricciardo wanna sneak out and go makeout? ynquads YEAH alex_albon no please dont we're on the same plane the restroom is small the walls are thin

maxverstappen1 gross

username sobbing screaming throwing up (fuck i am jealous)

danielricciardo i am so obsessed with you baby

ynquads i fucking adore you

f1wagsupdate as we all know that the figure skater and danny ric's girlfriend yn shcumacher is the child of toto wolff and michael shcumacher's sister, we decided to go on a deep dive. these are really the only photos we could find from facebook. we could only find this one photo of katarina shcumacher and not a single one her and toto together. but isn't toto just adorable with baby yn? and enjoy baby yn and max verstappen looking super cool!

liked by 46 956

username MAX VERSTAPPEN

username how is mick not using that last photo every year on their birthdays like i would print a pic like that of my siblings and put them up around school hallways and on the fridge

ynquads do not worry, auntie sophie and vic show that photo around every christmas

username ooh its too bad theres no photos of them together

username same bro i cant stop imagining some summer love ynquads they met a bar in berlin and got so fucking drunk that its a miracle they didn't get alcohol poisoning. i am so truly so really serious when i say that i'd be surprised if they even exchanged names before i was already cooking in my mom's stomach username what the fuck you saying ynquads i've seen an old homevideo about the morning after. i talk about it in therapy every week

username i love how yn is just lurking around every post about her and her parents

yt video: YN SHCUMACHER ATTENDS COTA - BRUNDLE GRIDWALK

comments:

username love the passive aggressive attitude to every camera she saw

username truly a lovely experience. yn kissed daniel before the race. she kissed max's cheek when he won and said something scandalous in german/dutch based on everyone's faces. i also saw a video of her laughing on the ground when lewis dsq was announced

username WHAT THE FUCK ARE THEY SAYING IS THAT GERMAN

username yn: they are filming you, dad. you are very popular. toto: dont give them too much attention. you had a long flight. you just go and take a nap before the race. brundle and toto talk yn: well see how intact our relationship is after the race username intact 😂😂 lord that really is torger's kid

danielricciardo this woman is the single reason ive survived some darker times. she's so beautiful, lovely and sweet. elegant on and off the ice ❤️❤️the day i do not gush and drool about her is the day i'm dead. so in love

liked by ynquads and 2 487 577 others

username why am i crying

username cant come to the phone right now busy driving through concrete walls and off a cliff

ynquads i am THE luckiest girl ❤️❤️❤️

danielricciardo if youre lucky then ive been blessed by god ynquads dont you dare i win this danielricciardo youre not the one who was just on their knees i win ynquads come here and ill wrestle you danielricciardo only if you kiss the booboos better after

username am i the only one getting real suspicious about these "i love you much" post that they've been putting out for the entire month??? like what you doing all this for

username EXACTLY username they've been together for like four or five years too sooooo you know what people do around that timestamp 🤭🤭🤭

username just what the hell is that comment about being on their knees daniel

ynquads instagram story

danielricciardo funny thing about vegas

liked by ynquads, lewishamilton, maxverstappen1 and 3 483 573 others

username BITCH WHAT

susie_wolff if you got married in a las vegas chappel, you are grounded till your 80th birthday yn - toto wolff

ynquads i didn't actually expect to love being engage this much

danielricciardo whats got you excited about this then? ynquads the fact that im gonna get to marry YOU maxverstappen1 stop being gross maxverstappen1 i already suffered through watching the proposal

username love this i want to snort this i want to inject this into my blood but did you get engaged and then eat junkfood while watching princess diaries 2

ynquads don't tell anyone 🤫 danielricciardo really dont tell anyone that amount of junkfood was not in the diet plan

@topguncultleader @eternalharry

#formula 1 x reader #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo insta au #toto wolff #f1 x reader #formula 1 social media au

[norrisleclercf1]

Little Backstabber

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Wolff!Reader

Warning: Angst, angst just pure angst, some fluff, Max is a Toto apologist, the reader is just hurting, Max has no respect for that

Requested: Yes/No

Rating: PG-13

Words: 2.3K

A/N: Hahahahaha I’m sorry (not really)

Part 1: Little Traitor

Pt.3 Little Heartbreaker

Breaking News: Max Verstappen and Y/N Wolff Announce Their Engagement 

Toto stares out the window as Susie reads the newspaper out loud during breakfast. Laying the newspaper down, she gazes at her husband as he doesn't say a word, not even turning to acknowledge what she has read. 

"Toto, maybe tell her how happy you are for her?" Susie mumbles over her coffee cup, which has his eyes cut to her. 

"I called my daughter a slut; she doesn't want to hear from me. But, can you?" He asks, laying his glasses down as he rubs his eyes. 

"No, I will not." Susie snips, sitting her cup down harshly. 

He just nods, not preaching the topic anymore since it's been a strain between them. 

"Y/n? Angel? Where are you?" Max yells, seeing your boxes piled up in his place, but it doesn't make him angry; pride and other cavemen's feelings cover his mind as he stops seeing you in the kitchen. 

You danced in the kitchen wearing a Redbull shirt and dark blue panties, clearly, nothing else. Hair is thrown up, and you are just enjoying yourself.  

"God, I love you." He whispers, still not letting you know he is home. Home. It was weird for you to call this place home, but it felt right. 

You spin around but stop halfway to seeing the figure and scream. 

Max laughs, which calms you down immediately, knowing it is your fiance and not some stranger. You hold your chest, trying to calm down as he just reduces to giggles walking up to you, pulling your hands gently. You let him pull your body into his, both bodies molding perfectly in the hug as he whispers comforting words. 

"You scared me." You laugh, rubbing his back as his chest shakes yours with his laugh again. 

"Oh het spijt me, zat gewoon naar mijn bloedmooie verloofde te staren." (Oh I'm sorry, was just staring at my gorgeous fiancee) He laughs making you slap his chest. 

You've started to perfect your Dutch after Max proposed to you; you had always spoken Dutch, but not comfortably, and now you could converse with him. 

"The press released our engagement announcement today. It's in the newspapers." He mumbles, leaning back slightly to kiss your forehead. 

"Yes, I know. Susie sent her congratulations." Your tone sour. 

After everything with your father, you refused to go anywhere near Mercedes, even keeping away from Lewis and Geroge, who sided with your father. Your stepmother tried her best, but you didn't want to talk to them, much less think about them. Max makes a noise but doesn't say anything. There have been multiple arguments about your family and what to do regarding the wedding. You didn't want them there, no invitations or anything. Why should people who constantly let you down throughout your life be welcomed to the day of embracing your new one? 

"Don't, Max." You noted the noise and pulled away from him, returning to the counter and fixing lunch for the both of you. 

"I just......he's your father. He should be there when we're married." He groans, pulling his hair slightly with annoyance. 

"No." Is all you say, making Max drop the conversation and look over your shoulder at what you're preparing. He smiles, seeing the potatoes, onion, carrot, and cabbage beside the smoked sausages. 

"You're making Stamppot?" He asks, dropping his head to kiss your shoulder, able to see the tension fade away. 

"Yes, it's slightly chilly out, and I figured it'd be good and healthy since you can't eat certain foods." You mumble, trying to get around your irritation with Max. 

"I'm sorry." He whispers, touching your wrist and stopping you from chopping the cabbage. 

"Just, why can't you understand? You were able to work out your issues with your father, but mine? I can't. So stop." You pull your wrist away from his fingers and continue chopping the cabbage. 

Max nods his head and walks away, heading to his Sim. Hearing his footsteps enter the den, you drop your head and stare at the gorgeous ring on your finger. It's a stunning natural blue sapphire with a daisy oval shape, little diamonds aline it, with a gold band holding it all together. Max had the ring specially crafted for you; he had the idea of the ring for a while now. He knew you weren't big on diamonds, so he set on a sapphire. Cliche, but he picked one closest to the RB color, a final stamp to show people that you were his and you weren't going anywhere. 

You loved the ring, Max, and your little life together. It terrified you that if your father came back into your life, to your wedding. He'd ruin it all. Shaking off the evil thoughts, you get back to cooking the lunch. Time passes with you cooking and listening to Max curse the Sim, potting the Stamppot. You gently carry Max's bowel to him and sit it on the desk. 

Max pauses it immediately and turns around in his chair, looking up at you; from the look on his face, he clearly has something to say. 

"If it's about my father, keep it to yourself." You warn, Max automatically turning back around to the Sim and hitting play. 

"I think you'll regret it." Max mumbles, but you ignore the comment and head to the bedroom sitting on the bed. 

You reach under the bed, pull out this little black box, and open it, your father and your smiling face greeting you. You kept all your childhood pictures of your father or postcards from when he was traveling around the world. Each one had his familiar writing on the back, each word etched into your brain. Each praise, love, how much he loved you, missed you, couldn't wait to see you. Where did it all go wrong? Why did he leave you? Why weren't you worthy or made him proud enough? Why? 

Swallowing the tears, you put the lid back on and slide it back under the bed. Max stands at the cracked door, watching you hide the box, the one you thought he knew nothing of. He knew your father should be at the wedding, he knew that's what you wanted, but you couldn't see past your anger and hurt. Max understood, but he knew the best for the both of you would be inviting Toto to the wedding. 

Stepping away from the door, he grabs his phone and pulls up Toto's number. Don't ask why he has it. He just does. 

You're invited to the wedding, don't fuck up this opportunity; see you on July 1st at 7 pm at Hotel de Paris.

Max hits sent and watches as the text is read automatically. The 3 bubbles pop up and then go away. This continues for about 15 minutes until the text returns, making Max scuff slightly, but glad to see Toto answered. 

Thank you for the invite, we'll be there.

Clearly, Suise was helping the man answer the text, but in the end, Toto gave his curt answer, and that was that. Max wasn't going to tell you what he had done, but he knew that you'd come around in time for the wedding and invite Toto and Suise, but it was his secret for now. Of course, telling Toto you had no idea he was invited doesn't occur to him, but he'll worry about that later. 

"Baby?" Max yells down the hall, and you emerge quickly, worried something is wrong. 

"What?" You ask, looking around the apartment, ready for an issue, but all he sees is Max sitting on the couch. 

"I apologize. I know the relationship with your father isn't like mine, and I should leave it be, and I will. No more talk about it. I'll let you go at your own pace. But just know, if we have kids, he needs a chance, and that's all I'm saying on the topic." Max sighs, catching his breath from his little rant. 

"I love you." You whisper, walking over and kissing him. Max smiles and pulls you down, having you lay on top of him. 

At this moment, everything was perfect, until 4 weeks later. 

You're walking home when you see a present sitting at your door, you weren't expecting a package so you look at the address and see it was from Susie. Sighing, you lean down and pick it up. Shocked by the weight, you stumble into the place and set it on the coffee table. Opening the box, you pull out the brown paper and freeze, seeing what is in the box. 

There was a transparent glass collage of you and Max lined with your favorite flowers, and on the bottom were gold words engraved. 

If I were the moon, I would want you to be my night

You stare at the words, knowing those words deeply. Your father always wrote quotes on the back of your postcards. This was the last quote he wrote you before it all fell apart. You pick up one of the smaller boxes with shaky hands and open it. You can't help the tears that start to fall. 

It was this small tiara, but not any tiara. It was a baroque crystal pearl tiara with very two rows of diamonds; on the top, pearls sat on top. It was gorgeous, but you felt your inner child's heartbreak. He remembered. When you were younger, you and your father walked past this old antique boutique in the front window and sat this same tiara; it was crazy expensive. You didn't even tell Toto that you wanted the tiara; you just stared at it and then kept walking down the street. But he did remember, after dropping you off at your mother's, he circled back and bought it. He kept it for the day you'd get married and thought he would hand it to you in person, telling you how much he loved you and was proud of the woman you've become, but instead.....he had to send it to you through a box. 

Sitting down, you grab the last box, opening it as a watch for Max. On the back was the first date you two ever had. But, the inscription was in Toto's handwriting. How he knew it that date was beyond your knowledge. Something catches your eye, making you sit the watch down to pick it up. It was a card. 

Opening the card, you scan the words, but one sentence catches your attention. 

Thank you for the invitation, we can't wait to see you and Y/n tie the knot. Much love from Susie and Toto

You stare at the words before they dawn on you. Max. He invited them. After you told him you didn't want them there, he still asked them and did it without notifying you. Time passed by you, and nothing made you move until you heard Max's keys in the door.  

"Hey love, I'm home!" Max called, having a great day. He couldn't wait to see you. 

Walking into the living room, he smiles brightly seeing you but stops seeing the emotionless look on your face. He looks at the box and then back to you before you slam the card down, finally looking at him. 

"You bastard." You whisper, shaking your head. You feel this hot rage boiling inside you, but your throat gets tighter and tighter with each passing of time. 

"He's your father." He whispers, knowing what the box means. Toto must've sent a gift or something and probably told you on a card that he was invited. 

"He LEFT ME!" You scream, moving away from the box to stand before Max. 

"You both left each other! Why can't you see that he's been trying!" Max snaps, tired of this back-and-forth argument. 

"I was 14. What do you want from me, Max? He was the adult; he should've tried. It's not my job!" You yell, not wanting to talk about this anymore. 

"When he reached out to you, we were 16, we had just had our first date, and he called you. You didn't answer the phone and said you'd call him back. But you never did. That showed him you didn't care anymore. Why would he try with someone who didn't even try either." Max argues. This shocks you. How could someone who not even 6 months ago defend you against your father was now being his most prominent advocate. 

"Be..because I was a kid." You retort, lost for words. 

"See, you can't tell me why you're still angry at him. We're adults, Y/n, let the past be the past." Max sighs, running his fingers through his hair before reaching for you. 

You pull away from his reach; hurt and rejection shatter Max's face as he slowly drops his arms. You take a few deep breaths, fiddling with the ring. Max watches, panic overtaking any sense he has. 

"Don't, don't do this." He whispers, staring at the ring on your finger. 

"How can I marry someone who doesn't respect my wishes, someone who defends the man who called me a slut. The person who made me feel less of myself my entire life, and here the person who is supposed to protect, stand by me, and love me, defends them. How can I marry you after this?" You ask, pulling the ring off. 

"No, please, Y/n, don't." Max breaks. He can't keep it together anymore as he watches you sit the ring before him. Tears slide down his face as he watches you grab your shoes and keys. 

"Don't leave me, don't please. Not again." He whispers, grabbing you as you try to hide your own tears. 

"You betrayed me." You whisper, pulling yourself out of his hold and walking out the door. As you close the door, all you hear is a scream and glass shattering as you walk away from the love of your life. 

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 fandom #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 imagine #f1 scenario #formula one #max verstappen #max verstappen scenario #max verstappen imagine #max x reader #max imagine #f1 red bull #f1 angst #f1 2023 #f1 imagines #f1 fluff #f1 x you #red bull racing #red bull formula 1 #red bull reader

[lewisvinga]

chemtrails over the country club | max verstappen x fem! reader

summary; nobody’s son and nobody’s daughter finally find peace with each other after the toughness of their childhood.

warnings; mentions of abusive parents, drinking, yelling

note; i play this song 10x a day tbh

word count; 953

taglist; @namgification

‘born to die’ series masterlist

f1 masterlist !

It was no secret that Max Verstappen didn’t have a normal childhood.

On top of spending his childhood karting, his father was tough. He often never let young Max have fun or play football on Sundays, young Max had to spend all his time racing no matter the conditions.

He was a ticking time bomb. If he didn’t win a race, people made sure to steer clear of him. He had a short temper.

13 year old Max felt his heart stop for a second as he realized he finished 4th. Not even on the podium. He could already see the angry face of his father and his loud voice as he made its way out of the kart.

His fathers voice sounded like a snake hissing. It intimidated young Max. His father kept a tight grip on his shoulder that he was sure would bruise. He glances up at his father for him to say something, anything.

But all 13 year old Max received was a few words that broke his heart. “You’re not my son. You’re not a Verstappen with that 4th.”

It was no secret that Max earned the nickname ‘Mad Max’ as a result from his childhood. With the way his face turns red and the curses slips from his mouth, nobody wanted to be around when he’s angry.

So it was a shocker when people found out who he was dating. A walking ball of sunshine dressed in pink bows and white lace, y/n was the only one to tame ‘Mad Max’. With her, Max didn’t seem to have to worry about disappointing her. She was always proud of him and she made sure he knew.

However, Y/n wasn’t always the ball of sunshine. Just like Max, she grew up with a toxic parent but it was her mother.

Being the oldest of 3, it meant it was up to her to take care of her siblings meanwhile her mother disappeared on Fridays just to come back black out drunk on Sunday nights. Having her childhood stripped from her made her into the bubbly person she was. Yet, her mother was still strict with her during her studies. Anything else but an A+ meant failure.

Y/n felt herself shake from fear as she walked down the sidewalk after stepping off the bus. In her backpack was a history exam with the letter B written in red. Her younger brother and sister ran in front of her with wide smiles while retelling their day in school.

Y/n’s eyes widened as she saw her mother standing at the front door. She knew that she had to give her the exam. Her siblings ran inside to their rooms to play with their toys while she stayed by the front door. With shaking hands, she pulls out the exam for her mother.

She could already smell the alcohol from her mother's mouth as she let out a deep sigh. “You’re not my daughter. My daughter wouldn’t cause me such disappointment.”

Their bond of having a tough childhood was what brought them together. They often spent nights sharing stories and relating to each other's experiences. With Max, she was able to let loose and enjoy herself.

There were moments when their past still affected them, much like during a snow day.

Y/n and Max were wearing big coats, tough boots, warm gloves, and everything else needed for a snow day. They sat on the steps of the front porch of the local country club they were a part of, watching the kids of other members laugh and play, something neither got to do.

“Max, let’s go take a walk around.” She suggested since it was the closest to being able to play in the snow in her mind.

The Dutch happily agreed and started ranting her about something as they made their way down the driveway. Y/n kept focusing on him and the crunch of the snow beneath her black boots. A small smile crept up her lips as she noticed her boyfriend was still distracted. She pauses for a second and he continues to walk and rant.

“And then, I said-“ Max pauses, noticing the lack of Y/n presence. “Liefje?” He questions and turns around to face her. Suddenly, his cheek was met with something cold.

Y/n lets out a gasp. “That was supposed to hit your back!” She exclaims with wide eyes and a frown. “I’m sorry! I meant to hit your back then you-“ She was so distracted with rambling, that she didn’t notice him pack some snow into a ball.

Mid-ramble, she felt the ball hit her scarf-covered neck. Her previous frown quickly turned into a smile. Immediately both of them started to create snowballs and throw them at each other.

She suddenly sees him charging towards her. She lets out a squeal as she runs away. She ran around the snowy fields, not caring if the other adults were staring at them due to their childish behavior.

Suddenly, Max jumps in front of her and causes both of them to fall to the ground. She pushes him off of herself and he rolls to the side. They were both lying on their backs, taking deep breaths between laughter.

“Max, look,” Y/n says, pointing at a white line in the sky that was led by a small dot. It was a chemtrail, signifying that there was a plane. “Surprised people are traveling now.”

“Yeah, that’s ’cause it’s now snowing anymore.” He explains, keeping his eye on the white line.

They fell into a comfortable silence as they lay in the pillowy white snow. They were once nobody’s son and nobody’s daughter. But now, Max and Y/n found the comfort they wanted in their lives as they lay in the snow, watching the chemtrails over the country club.

#formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula one imagines #formula one scenarios #f1 scenario #formula one imagine #f1 scenarios #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen scenario #max verstappen imagine

[adventuringblind]

Hear me out father Toto, daughter gets very angry over a decision he made without her permission and she gets revenge by asking max (secret boyfriend) to kiss her in front of him when he won the race (maybe they hug and max makes direct eye contact with Toto when he kissed her neck) plus angry father Toto is funny 🙃 plus your writing is amazing ❤️

Revenge

Max Verstappen x Reader

Genre: idk angst? Fluff? Crack?

Summary: Toto tries to set his daughter up in an arranged marriage… it doesn’t go according to plan.

Warnings: angry Toto, kissing, arranged marriage, Max is all to happy to make out with her in public

Notes: I had way to much fun with this.

Masterlist

“You what?!” She screams. “You can’t just tell someone I’ll marry them! Have you considered my feeling in all of this.” She unceremoniously rakes a hand through her hair.

Toto simply leans back in his chair. “We need this-“

“No, you need this! Not me!”

She storms out of her fathers office. She can hear him hitting his hand on the desk as she goes. Something passes through her mind that maybe breaking his hand would get him to treat the furniture better.

She storms off past everyone. Nobody stops her as she goes. Her destination? The Redbull garage to see Max, her current boyfriend. The one she’s been with for a couple of years now.

She’s angry and determined to get back at her father for even suggesting such a thing. She slips into Christian's office and shuts the door behind her. He looks startled, but definitely not surprised.

"Finally decide to switch teams?"

She turns her head and runs a frantic hand through her hair. "Yeah... I need to ask a favor of you and Max."

"I'm hoping it's something petty because you look like you're upset, and I love making Toto angry."

~

The next race weekend goes according to plan. The plan being that Max wins. Which he had once again done flawlessly like so much of the 2023 season.

Christian, as best as he can manage, sneaks her and himself up in front of the Redbull team so Max has a clear line of sight. The Dutch had been the one to come up with this plan, and Christian wanted to be as petty as possible.

Ger original plan was just to hard launch her relationship with Max. Then the Dutch told her this was much better and would definitely get the point across. Which she can't help but agree with.

Max parks the car in the number one spot, then goes and gets weighed, taking his helmet off as he goes. Everyone eyes him skeptically because this was not his order of doing things. Max always, without fail, greeted the team first.

Her and Christian make it to the front, and She makes sure Max can see her. Something in her is giddy and blushing. Like she's a schoolgirl admitting she has a crush.

Max makes a beeline for her. Helmet off. Hair disheveled, cheeks flushed from the heat of the race. It's very attractive. Enough so to make her forget why she's even doing this in the first place.

There is no hesitation. Only love and adoration in his eyes as he approaches. All smiles and love. He cups her cheeks and crashes their lips together.

It's warm and wet and so confidence filled. Like he's claiming her for the world to see. And it's definitely longer then it needs to be.

They get questions about it afterward. That's what the entirety of the press conference is. She gets stopped by far too many reporters.

She runs into the Mercedes hospitality to grab her things before she leaves with Max. Toto stands there waiting for her. He's seething; red in anger. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"

"Kissed my boyfriend of two years?"

"You've cost me a major sponsor!"

"And that sounds like a you problem."

Max jogs into the entrance and looks between the two having a stare off. "Sorry about that, Mr. Wolff. Didn't want you marrying off the love of my life."

Toto slams his hand on the table so hard that it knocks the piece of furniture over. He reals backward and clutches his hand against his chest.

"Serves you right for abusing the furniture!" She slides past Toto and grabs her things before taking Max's hand in her own. "Now if you'll excuse me, I will be going home with Max."

Her and Max spare one last glance at Toto, burning the image of him raging over their partnership before leaving. Maybe being petty is fun sometimes.

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