Choices- C.sainz

hey! osc and pcos!reader here !! thank you so much for writing about it. brings me a lot of comfort and makes me feel seen. you can obviously wait a bit to write this one but maybe osc with pcos reader where he just completely takes care of her like applying heating pads and giving her massages

- 🧸

certified uterus whisperer 🌬️

Oscar Piastri x PCOS!reader

summary: oscar takes care of pcos!reader cause he’s a lil sweetheart

warnings: pcos mention, chronic pain

A/N: i’m so glad u’re enjoying these and can find comfort in them, i literally have two more for pcos!reader lined up (without a req) because i love it so much. thank u for requesting as always, u dk how much i appreciate it :) all for u xx LOVE U BABY ❤️

⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘

you wake up feeling like a truck ran you over. twice.

your body is heavy. your lower back is already aching. and your stomach feels like someone stuffed it with lead and then lit it on fire for fun.

you don’t even need to check the calendar. it’s one of those pcos days.

you roll over with a groan and immediately catch sight of oscar sitting on the floor, fiddling with something in his hands.

“you’re awake,” he says, bright-eyed, like you didn’t just sound like a dying animal.

you blink at him. “why are you on the floor?”

he grins. “testing the heating pad. it works.”

you squint. “how long have you been awake?”

he shrugs. “not important. anyway. lie back.”

you blink again as he hops up and gently guides you onto your back like a nurse in a very expensive mclaren hoodie. the second your head hits the pillow, he’s already tucking the warm pad under your shirt, resting it low on your belly like he’s done this a hundred times.

“i googled the exact placement,” he says proudly. “they say right over the ovaries.”

“hot,” you mutter.

he winks. “very.”

he disappears for a second, and when he returns, he’s holding a tray like he’s room service.

a glass of water. your painkillers. a tiny bowl of cut fruit. and two chocolate-covered biscuits just because.

you stare at the tray, then at him. “who are you and what have you done with my slightly clueless boyfriend?”

“excuse me,” he says, offended. “i am incredible in a crisis.”

“this isn’t a crisis.”

he gestures to your curled-up position and murder-glare. “looked pretty crisis-y five minutes ago.”

you roll your eyes but pop the painkillers anyway. oscar sets the tray down and climbs back into bed, shifting to sit behind you, his fingers already gently working into your lower back like he knew the exact spot that hurts.

you sigh. loudly. dramatically. “i take it back. you are god’s favorite. and maybe mine”

he grins against your shoulder. “you only say that when i bring snacks and rub your back.”

“because it’s a rare combo.”

“rude.”

his thumbs press into a tense knot just above your hips, and you melt.

“where did you learn this?” you mumble.

“youtube,” he says proudly. “also the ferrari physio owes me a favor.”

you snort. “you asked another team’s physio for period cramp massage tips?”

“he thought i was asking for me,” oscar says casually. “i didn’t correct him.”

you laugh, full-on this time, even though it makes your stomach cramp. “that’s love.”

he hums, warm and low, and presses a kiss to the back of your neck.

“i know i can’t fix it,” he says softly, “but if i can make it slightly less horrible, i will. always.”

you lean into him, letting the heat and the pressure and the love soak in all at once.

and honestly?

you don’t feel great.

but you do feel loved.

which, today, is more than enough.

⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘

♡ Max "If It Weren't For The Baby" Verstappen | MV1

NEFERASKINGDOM

Summary: Max and George show no signs of stopping anytime soon and poor y/n is stuck between a rock and a hard place. but soon things escalate when Max accidentally opens his big mouth.

PREVIOUS | MASTERLIST | NEXT

y/n_russell posted:

y/n_russell: Habibi come to Abu Dhabi✨

Comments:

user: SHE’S BACK, EVERYBODY STAY CALM!!! 🔥🔥🔥 user: MOTHER RETURNED TO THE GRID AND IT SHOWS. user: Abu Dhabi isn’t ready for her!! 😍 user: Not to be messy, but is that a bump or just the angle? 👀

user: Delete this before you embarrass yourself further. 🙄 user: You do realize that’s body-shaming, right? Yikes. user: Maybe it’s just the dress, maybe it’s none of our business. Either way—don’t. user: Imagine logging onto the internet just to get ratio’d in the comments. Couldn’t be me.

georgerussell63: Wow. 2 whole photo in front of Lewis’s garage? Feeling betrayed right now.

y/n_russell: omg george, do you want me to write "george is my favorite" on my forehead or something? relax. georgerussell63: I’m just saying, where’s the support? y/n_russell: maybe if your garage didn’t feel like the waiting room at a dentist’s office, I’d consider it. georgerussell63: That’s because we’re professional. y/n_russell: nah, it’s because you have the personality of unseasoned chicken. user: 💀💀💀 SHE CAME FOR HIS LIFE.

user: MAX. LIKED. WHAT DOES THIS MEAN.

user: Not Max creeping in the shadows like that. George, sweetie, you seeing this? user: Netflix doesn’t even need to make a script this season. The show’s writing itself.

landonorris: MOTHER.

y/n_russell: 🔪🔪🔪 user: The knives are out. Lando, RUN.

lewishamilton: Always great to have you around. Thanks for showing up and supporting me this weekend. Much love ❤️

y/n_russell: Wouldn’t miss it for the world, you know I’m rooting for you Lew! Big things ahead 💪🏽

f1teaspill posted:

f1teaspill: Okay, F1 fans, we’ve got a hot one for you! Max Verstappen and George Russell’s sister, Y/n, were spotted on a hotel balcony together, and it’s seriously got people talking. 👀 Y/n was supposed to be at a totally different hotel with George, so why is she with Max—especially with all the drama going down between them? 🤔

Is there something going on between these two? Or is Y/n just making it clear that she’s Team Max in this ongoing feud? You know we’ll be watching this one unfold closely... 🔥

Comments:

user: Yooo, what’s going on here?! Y/n is in Max’s hotel?? 😳

user: Is this a secret relationship or is Y/n just picking sides? I need answers!! 😬

user: So Y/n's team Max now? This is messy. 👀

user: Max and Y/n are lowkey dating and no one’s telling us?! I need the receipts ASAP. 😩🔥

user: Sis really out here with Max?? I can’t believe this. George is gonna flip. 😬

user: Okay, but like... is she betraying George by cozying up with Max right now? Or is she just done with the drama? 👀

user: Nah, this can’t be real. She’s out here looking all comfy with Max while George is literally her brother?? What kind of betrayal is this? 😱

user: Is this the kind of power move we’re witnessing?? Y/n dropping George for Max?? 🤯💥

user: Ok, but lowkey, I ship them so hard. Max and Y/n would make the hottest couple. 🔥🔥

user: No, fr. Max and Y/n are EVERYTHING. They look so good together, I’m lowkey obsessed. 😍👀 user: Can we just take a minute to appreciate how they’re literally radiating chemistry? I don’t care if they’re not dating—they should be. 😩💅

user: The way she’s just chilling with Max tho... George must be somewhere crying right now. 🤣💀

f1teaspill posted:

f1teaspill: “If it weren’t for the baby.” Three words that sent the paddock and the internet into absolute mayham today after Max Verstappen dropped the bomb during an interview. 👶💣

Fans are already in detective mode, dissecting every second of this wild moment. Whose baby? Is Max a secret dad? And what does George Russell have anything to do with it?

Interview Transcript:

Journalist: Max, earlier this week George Russell referred to you as a “bully” in his recent comments. Do you have any thoughts on that?

Max: (chuckles awkwardly) Well, you know, George always has something to say. I’m not going to get into it.

Journalist: But do you think his characterization of you is fair?

Max: (sighs) Look, I’m just here to race. I’m not interested in petty drama.

Journalist: It doesn’t seem like George is letting it go anytime soon. Are you planning to address it with him directly?

Max: (visibly annoyed) I really don’t see the point in—

Journalist: But isn’t it important to clear the air, especially since the tension is so public now?

Max: (snapping) If it weren’t for the baby, I wouldn’t even bother trying to make peace with him!

(A beat of stunned silence. Max’s eyes widen in realization.)

Journalist: The… baby? What baby? Max, can you clarify—

(Max mutters something under his breath and walks off, leaving the journalist baffled.)

Comments:

user: BABY???? HELLO? MAX, EXPLAIN YOURSELF.

user: What baby, Max?! WHOSE BABY?! I haven’t been this confused since Abu Dhabi 2021.

user: Can someone please check if Max even knows what he said? He looked so panicked when he walked off.

user: “If it weren’t for the baby”??? Sir, we’re not in Panem; calm down.

user: Peeta Verstappen has entered the chat. Someone hand him a loaf of bread. user: Peeta Mellark walked so Max Verstappen could run user: I just KNOW someone’s editing Max into a Peeta scene as we speak. Can’t wait.

user: Okay but what baby would involve George? George is childless?

user: Guys, hear me out: What if Max is secretly dating George’s sister? That’s the ONLY way a baby ties them together. user: Nah, there’s no way. George would’ve punched Max into next week already. user: Okay but think about it. Max. George’s sister. A baby. Uncle George. THIS IS LORE. user: I’m just saying, George’s sister has been looking very glow-y lately… 👀 user: Not a theory, just facts: Max is babytrapping George into a truce. 💀 user: Wait... isn’t George’s sister in Abu Dhabi right now?? 👀 user: omg and they were seen together on his hotel balcony jskjsk user: I’M SCREAMING. THIS THEORY IS TOO GOOD. user: Max... the man, the myth, the secret brother-in-law.

user: F1 fandom today: trying to figure out if Max has a secret family or if we’re all just collectively hallucinating.

user: Bro, if this is true, Netflix better dedicate a whole episode to Uncle George. user: “If it weren’t for the baby” is my villain origin story now.

user: GUYS. What if Max meant baby as in, like, his cat or something? We’re spiraling.

user: Okay but why would George care about Max’s cat?! Use your brain. user: Honestly, the only thing that makes sense is Max dating George’s sister. Uncle George confirmed. Case closed.

user: Y’all, the way I will actually SCREAM if Max and George’s sister are together. This is better than any race drama.

user: Max Verstappen?? A baby daddy?? In THIS economy??

user: Everyone’s fighting over the baby, but I’m just here wondering how Christian Horner is gonna spin this in interviews.

user: Plot twist: The baby is Christian Horner’s with Toto 😭

user: STOP. This is the most chaotic F1 season ever, and I love it.

Taglist: @ilovechickenwings @spooky-librarian-ghost @diaryofarandomkid @rd14 @hc-dutch @tremendousstarlighttragedy @grussellsprout @dannyespinosa06 @awritingtree @shelbyteller @diorbrxtz @96mcobo

Sleepyhead

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: sometimes race weekends can be so tiring that words escape you, but that has never been a problem for your doting boyfriend

Based on this request

You walk down the paddock path, utterly exhausted after a long day at the track. Your eyelids feel like lead weights and you can barely put one foot in front of the other. Charles has his arm wrapped tightly around your waist, practically carrying your limp body as you lean into him for support.

“Tired, mon petit chou?” Charles asks softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You just let out a little grunt in response, too drained to even form words.

As you round the corner, Logan Sargeant spots the two of you and rushes over with a big grin. “Hey guys! How’s it going?”

Charles gives him a polite smile. “Hello, mate. We’re doing well, just a bit tired after such a busy day.”

Logan turns to look at you, his eyebrows furrowed. “Y/N? Are you okay? You look kind of … mad or something.”

You blink slowly at him, your brain taking its time to process his words. Mad? Why would you be mad? You just shake your head minutely, rubbing your cheek against Charles’ shoulder.

“Oh no, she’s not angry,” Charles explains with a little chuckle. “This is just how she gets when she’s really tired. She goes all quiet and doesn’t speak. Her body language is the only way to read her moods then.”

“Yeah, and right now she’s giving off major sleepy kitten vibes,” Oscar’s voice chimes in as he joins the little group with Lando beside him. “Lando gets the exact same way when he’s exhausted. He turns into a limp noodle that I have to carry around.”

Lando huffs indignantly. “Hey! I do not!”

“Yes you do,” Oscar laughs. “Remember that time in Monza last year? You were falling asleep on your feet after the race.”

Lando rolls his eyes but a fond smile tugs at his lips. “Okay fine, maybe I do. But only sometimes!”

You let their playful banter wash over you, your heavy eyelids sliding shut as you nestle further into Charles’ embrace. You feel so safe and comforted in his arms, his solid warmth enveloping you.

“Alright, I think it’s time we got you back to the hotel for some rest,” Charles murmurs, pressing another kiss to your hair. “Say goodnight to the boys.”

You manage a tiny wave at Logan, Oscar, and Lando before allowing Charles to steer you down the paddock towards the exit. His hand runs up and down your back soothingly.

“Goodnight you two! Get some sleep!” Oscar calls after you.

Once you reach the car, Charles helps you into the passenger seat, buckling you in gently before jogging around to the driver’s side. You’re asleep before he even starts the engine, finally giving in to the exhaustion weighing you down.

The sound of a car door opening rouses you from your slumber sometime later. You slowly blink your eyes open, taking in your surroundings. Charles’ hand is tenderly stroking your cheek.

“Mon amour, we’re at the hotel. Let’s get you up to our room, hmm?”

You nod drowsily, allowing him to unbuckle you and help you out of the car. He pulls you into his side, one arm securely around your waist as you walk unsteadily towards the hotel entrance. Grateful doesn’t even begin to cover what you feel for this man by your side.

Once in the elevator, Charles shifts to face you fully, those warm green eyes shining with nothing but pure adoration. He tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“You did so well today. I’m so proud of you for working so hard. Let’s get you nice and warm in bed now.”

You give him a tired little smile, nuzzling your face against his chest. He chuckles softly, squeezing you tighter.

Eventually you make it to the hotel room, Charles guiding you straight to the plush king bed. He helps you out of your clothes until you’re down to your underwear, then pulls back the covers for you to slip between the soft sheets. A happy sigh slips from your lips when your head hits the pillow. Charles presses a lingering kiss to your forehead.

“Sleep well, mon cœur. I’ll be right here when you wake up,” he whispers, laying down beside you.

You immediately curl into his side, draping an arm over his stomach as you burrow your face into the crook of his neck. His arms wrap around you, making you feel so small yet so incredibly cherished. With Charles holding you snugly against his chest, you drift off into a deep, peaceful slumber.

When consciousness returns, the first thing that registers is the solid warmth of Charles’ body pressed against yours. His leg is hooked over yours, his chest rising and falling steadily beneath your cheek. There’s a pleasant ache to your limbs, the satisfying kind that comes from a good rest after a long day. You shift slightly, causing Charles to stir awake.

“Bonjour, ma belle,” he murmurs, his sexy morning voice making butterflies flutter in your stomach. You tilt your head up to meet his sleepy but adoring gaze, suddenly drowning in those green pools. God, he’s so beautiful.

“Good morning,” you whisper back, rubbing your nose against his.

Charles breaks into a dazzling grin, capturing your lips in a soft, slow kiss that steals your breath away. When he pulls back, he cups your cheek tenderly.

“Did you sleep well? Feeling more rested now?”

“Mmhmm,” you hum, smiling lazily. “Sleeping in your arms is the best.”

He laughs, his eyes crinkling. “I couldn’t agree more. I love holding you close like this.”

Your heart swells three sizes as he gazes at you with such naked affection. This man loves you so fiercely, so completely. You can see it in his every look, his every touch. He treasures you in a way you never thought possible. Feeling brave, you let the words sitting heavily on your tongue finally slip out.

“Je t’aime, Charles … mon amour.”

His smile turns blinding, happier than you’ve ever seen it. “I love you too, with all my heart,” he breathes, pulling you in for another lingering kiss.

You melt into the embrace, pouring every ounce of love and gratitude you feel for this incredible man into the kiss. Nothing has ever felt so right, so perfect than being here in his arms. As Charles strokes your cheek and deepens the kiss, you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you’ll always feel safe, cherished, and deeply loved by this extraordinary man.

Reader Doesn't Eat Properly

Resumen: En algún momento de tu vida, empezaste a sentir que no eras lo suficientemente bonita, esto termina decayendo en restringir tus alimentos. Cuando Anakin ve que haz perdido peso nuevamente, no puede evitar preocuparse.

⚠️: Desordenes Alimenticios

Tags: Fluff, Confort, poquito de angst — ao3

En los últimos meses, tu relación con Anakin y tu trabajo fueron el centro de tus pensamientos. Habías tenido incontables citas, cenas ya sea con tu pareja o aliados. Fue un día que te levantaste de la cama vacía, que mientras te preparabas para tu jornada, que viste el aumento de tamaño en tus muslos y cadera, sin poder reconocerte a ti misma, la humedad de tus ojos se hizo presente con la idea de esconderte y no volver a salir.

Sabías que era imposible. Tu trabajo era requerido, y decidiste que si hoy no podías ser bonita, entonces al menos deberías serlo lo más pronto posible. Tus comidas disminuyeron considerablemente, aprovechando que Anakin estaba en una misión, no salías a comer a menos que fuera trabajo o sintieras que ibas a desmayarte. Tuvo sus resultados, en poco tiempo, tus piernas se tonificaron, la grasa de tu cintura y cadera desaparecieron, aliviada seguiste con esto hasta que Anakin volvió.

Lo esperaste como siempre, ocultando en tu expresión la preocupación de que estuviera herido, tus manos juntas adelante se separaron apenas lo viste bajar de la nave, con su pelo revuelto y una sonrisa, que brillo en cuanto sus ojos se enfocaron en ti.

Junto a otros senadores y jedis, saludaron a Obi Wan y Anakin, cortesmente. Al parecer la misión, fue exitosa, pudiendo respirar, todos se fueron a hacer reportes despidiéndose. Caminaste como si nada hacia tu oficina, sabías que tu novio te seguía con tres pasos de diferencia.

A punto de abrir la puerta, finalmente hablaste con tu sonrisa contenida.

—Me alegra que la misión haya salido bien, Anakin—no lo miraste, sabiendo que el lo estaba haciendo. Fue una sorpresa, más no fuera de lo normal, cuando tu novio te empujó suavemente hacia dentro, cerrando la puerta detrás de él y apoyándote en la pared blanca, fue lo suficientemente descarado para unir sus labios suavemente. Su mano descansaba en tu cintura, mientras que ligeramente presionabas la ropa de su pecho con tus dedos. Entre sus labios, intentaste suspirar su nombre de la sorpresa, sin embargo lo mucho que habías extrañado el contacto, lo hizo imposible.

Apretando tu cintura y profundizando el beso, Anakin te rodeó con su otro brazos, sus cejas se fruncieron y el beso se detuvo. Abriste los ojos con confusión, más al encontrarte con su expresión tensa, su dedo acaricio tu cintura como si tratatara de sentirte sobre la tela. Sus ojos bajaron analizando su toque, y a tiempo te diste cuenta que estaba enojado.

—¿No estas lastimado, verdad?—alejándote de él, tu cuerpo pesaba, y una incomodidad creció en la habitación. Sonreíste tratando de aliviarlo, no funciono, el negó.

—Bajaste de peso—volvió a agarrar tu cintura con su palma.

—¿Lo hice?—preguntaste como si no fuera lo que querías, te sentiste culpable por su reacción, estaba preocupado.

—Lo hiciste, estoy seguro—Anakin te miro intentando ver tus ojos bajos—¿Estuviste comiendo apropiadamente?

Tragaste saliva, mentir no era una de tus habilidades.

—Supongo que el trabajo me tuvo muy ocupada y me olvide de algunas comidas—levantaste la cabeza con tu mejor sonrisa—No tienes que preocuparte, podemos tener una cena juntos esta noche.

Al final de la frase, tu voz que casi se quiebra fue disimulada, pero tu pareja no lo pasó por alto. Te acerco a él, dejando que sus pies se mezclen y sus abdomenes se toquen, tu mejilla fue sostenida amablemente. Y con sus ojos celestes, no te saco la mirada de encima.

Fue demasiado, y los hilos de tu garganta que enrrollaban también. Su amor, repentino en una semana donde no te habías dado ni una palabra amigable a ti misma fue un golpe de realidad sobre lo que te estabas haciendo a ti misma. Cristalinos tus ojos se cerraron, vergüenza inundó tus mejillas, y ocultaste tu cara en el pecho de Anakin, donde su corazón golpeaba. El lo había notado al instante, y odiaste lo mucho que te conocía.

—Amor, dime que esta mal—sus labios besaron tu cabeza, y con un deseo poseedor de protegerte de todo, no te dejo. Quería apretarte más, amarte más, besarte en toda piel visible.

Tu vergüenza se mostró en lágrimas, aferrandote al cuerpo de Anakin entre sollozos pudiste decir tus sentimientos.

—Soy horrible, tan fea—dejaste ir el nudo—Solo quiero sentirme bonita por un tiempo al menos.

Tus palabras le fueron inentendibles, tu belleza siendo su máximo resplandor de sonreír, que no fueras capaz de verlo le contrajo el corazón. Sus labios se separaron solo para apretarse. Tu cabeza fue envuelta por su mano, quiso esconderte de ti misma, este dolor que te habías provocado.

—Desearía que pudieras verte como te veo—susurró tu pareja, su abrazo fue donde tus sollozos quedaron, tus ojos rojos e hinchados. En todos tus aspectos, Anakin te amaba, con una sonrisa dolorosa, un murmullo sincero se quedó entre ustedes—Eres hermosa, cada centímetro de ti... Es más bello que cualquier otra cosa en esta galaxia.

Tus mejillas fueron besadas, tus párpados rojos dejaron de doler bajo sus labios y esa noche, tocando cada centímetro de piel de ti, Anakin destruyó todas las inseguridades de tu cuerpo, dejando que su amor se adentrará en cada fibra de ti. No pudiste dudar ni un segundo de ti misma, Anakin nunca te mentiría, tu belleza era infinita.

it's my birthday!! today I post Seb OS

White Noise | MV1

Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: [Soulmate AU] In a world where soulmate marks promise connection, one person’s endless wait collides with another’s relentless pursuit of a life beyond destiny.

Warning(s): Mild Language, Pining, mutual pining, they dance in a club, idk if the dancing can be considered steamy or not, cliff hanger.

Part 5 ~Series Masterlist~

"Show me you're shameless...write it on my neck, why don't ya? And I won't erase it....I need you more than I want to...need you more than I want to"

The music pulsed through the club, a deep, thumping bass that rattled the ice in his gin and tonic. It was loud, packed, and dimly lit—exactly the kind of place that should be drowning out every thought in his head.

Max leaned back against the booth, stretching out his legs, as he watched the drivers he came here with lose themselves on the dance floor.

Lando, Charles, Carlos, and a few others, moving easily under the flashing lights, too drunk on victory and alcohol to care about anything else.

He should be out there too, celebrating, letting the win from yesterday settle into his bones the way it used to.

Another Monaco win. More points in the championship. It almost felt like 2023 again, when he had the title in a chokehold, when everything was simple. When winning was enough.

But now—now, nothing was enough, without her.

He sighed, swirling the clear liquid in his glass before taking another sip. The gin burned his throat, crisp and bitter, but it didn’t do anything to settle the restlessness crawling under his skin.

And then—

The fucking pulse.

The glass nearly slipped from his fingers.

It started slow, a hum under his ribs, something deep and insistent. Then it grew, stronger, louder, vibrating through his bones. His heartbeat followed, pounding against his chest, his ears, his head.

He knew what this meant.

Max’s head snapped up, and his eyes locked onto her instantly.

Y/N.

She stood across the club, just beyond the bar, surrounded by people. But he only saw her.

She was...breathtaking. And he felt the breath leave his lungs in the heavy exhale he let out.

The lights caught the shimmer of her dress, the deep silver fabric clinging to her in all the right places, short enough to show off the length of her legs. Her dark smoky eyes made her gaze sharper, bolder, and her lips—red, the same shade that had been burned into his memory since the last time he saw her.

A pearl choker wrapped around her throat, delicate and elegant, and he couldn’t stop himself from staring at the soft skin just below it, where her pulse would be.

Beating just as fast as his.

Max was frozen.

Did she know he was here? Was she looking for him?

His grip on the glass tightened as he watched her friends bring her drinks, laughing, nudging her toward the dance floor. And then—

She danced.

And Max forgot how to breathe entirely.

Her body moved effortlessly with the music, the flashing lights illuminating her skin, the curve of her back, the way her dress rode up just slightly—enough to give him an anaphylactic shock— as she swayed to the beat.

She was magnetic, and it wasn’t just the bond—it was her. The confidence, the ease, the way she lost herself in the moment like nothing else mattered.

Max’s chest ached.

She was here.

Three weeks. Three fucking long weeks since she walked away from him. Three weeks of radio silence, of waiting, of not knowing.

And now, she was here.

Max was trapped between wanting to go to her and not knowing if he should.

Because she hadn’t come to him. She hadn’t looked for him.

She was here, but was she here for him?

The answer lay in the way her eyes flickered toward him in the middle of a spin, in the way her lips parted slightly when she caught him staring.

But she didn’t stop dancing.

Max clenched his jaw, setting his drink down. If she wasn’t going to come to him, then he would go to her.

Max was halfway out of his seat when he saw him.

The man.

Tall, dark-haired, well-dressed in that overly polished, moneyed way Max had learned to spot a mile away. The kind of man who walked into places like these expecting people to fall at his feet.

And right now, that man had set his sights on Y/N.

Max’s fingers curled into a fist on the table.

He didn’t like jealousy.

It was an ugly emotion, a useless one. It clouded judgment, made people reckless.

But as he watched the man get too close—leaning in, placing a hand on Y/N’s arm, tugging her just slightly toward him—Max felt it slither into his chest anyway.

Maybe this was his answer.

Maybe she wanted him to see this. Maybe she was showing him, without words, that she wasn’t available.

That she had made her choice.

His jaw clenched.

Fine. Fucking fine then.

If that was the case, he’d leave. He wouldn’t make this harder for her, for himself.

But then—

Y/N shifted, just slightly, just enough for him to see the change in her expression.

The annoyance, the sharp furrow of her brows. The tension in her shoulders. The way her hand curled into a fist at her side.

She wasn’t into him.

Max exhaled sharply through his nose.

If anything, she looked like she was five seconds away from breaking the guy’s nose.

And as much as Max wanted to see that, he figured he should probably step in—not to save Y/N, because she didn’t need saving, but to save the poor bastard from whatever wrath was brewing behind her clenched jaw.

Max moved.

He crossed the floor in a few easy strides, weaving through bodies, his focus sharp and singular.

The man had leaned in even closer now, saying something into her ear that made Y/N’s entire posture go rigid.

Max didn’t give him the chance to say anything else.

"Piss off." His voice was cool, his expression unreadable, but there was a sharp edge to his words that cut through the music.

The man blinked, turning toward him with a lazy smirk. “And who are you?

Max didn’t answer. He just stared, unblinking, something dark simmering in his blue eyes.

The man hesitated. Then he scoffed, lifting his hands in mock surrender before stepping back. “Whatever, man.”

Y/N exhaled, her jaw tight, and then—finally—her eyes met his.

The pulse between them roared.

Max felt it in his ribs, in his veins, in every inch of him. The sharp, unbearable ache of staying apart.

And then, as if the universe wanted to drive it home, the music shifted.

The pulsing beat melted into something slow, something sultry.

Max didn’t think. He just moved.

One step forward, his hands reaching for her before she could slip away again.

He felt the little gasp leave her lips as he pulled her against him, delighted in it, the warmth of her body pressed to his, the way she fit so damn perfectly in his arms.

Max exhaled, his head dipping just slightly toward hers.

"Just for one night," he murmured, voice low, almost pleading. "Pretend that we’re strangers. Forget everything....just for tonight."

She didn’t move.

Didn’t step away.

Didn’t push him off.

And then, after a long moment—

She moved with him.

____________________________

The moment Max pulled her against him,Y/N knew she was lost.

There was no hesitation. No second guessing. His hands found her waist, and she melted into the touch like she had been waiting for it her entire life.

"Just for one night, Pretend that we’re strangers. Forget everything....just for tonight."

The bond pulsed between them—not a violent crash, not a scream, but a hum, a perfect, golden vibration that ran through her veins, curled around her ribs, and whispered,

Finally.

The music was a slow, sultry beat, the kind that slithered under the skin, the kind that begged for bodies to press together, to find a rhythm that wasn’t just the song but something more.

And God, they did.

Max moved with her like he had been made to. His hands—large, warm, possessive—gripped the dip of her waist, pulling her in, flush against his chest, against the solid wall of his body, and she gasped at the contact, at the way it sent a jolt through her.

Like lightning. Like divinity. Like something so right it should have been written in scripture.

She let her head fall back, her eyes half-lidded as she moved, hips rolling, pressing against him, a slow, torturous friction that sent heat pooling low in her stomach.

She barely registered the low groan that rumbled in his chest, but she felt it, felt the way it vibrated against her, how it sank into her bones.

He was everywhere.

His touch. His scent. His presence, all-consuming, drowning her in something she didn’t know how to fight anymore.

A hand trailed up her back, fingers pressing, kneading, as he guided her movements, slow, deliberate, like he was savoring every second, like he had waited for this.

Hadn’t they both?

Hadn’t they been waiting their whole lives for something that felt like this?

She let herself get lost in it. If only just for a moment.

Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, gripping it tight as she arched into him, as their movements became something deeper, something desperate and unrelenting, like neither of them could get close enough.

The pulse between them was stronger now, not the overwhelming force it had once been, but a pleasure so pure, so satisfying, that it nearly had her keening.

This was what had been missing. This was why.

The bond wanted them together. It needed them to be together.

Max seemed just as lost as she was. His breath was warm against her ear, uneven, his lips grazing the sensitive skin there, barely-there touches that sent a shudder through her spine.

Then lower.

The line of her jaw.

The slope of her neck.

Each kiss was reverent. Worshipful.

She exhaled sharply, her chest rising and falling against his, her grip tightening on him as his lips found her shoulder, where her dress dipped just enough to expose skin.

And God, the way he lingered.

The way his lips pressed, slow, savoring.

She barely heard the music anymore.

Barely heard anything over the roaring in her ears, over the way her body was singing, vibrating with something primal and ancient and undeniable.

It felt—

Like devotion. Like paradise. Nirvana.

Like the thing she had spent her whole life pretending she didn’t need.

She didn’t know how long they moved like that, bodies entwined, breath mixing, hands exploring, but it could have been eternity.

And she—

She thinks would have let it.

__________________________

Max Verstappen was falling.

Not in the literal sense—no, he was still standing, still breathing, still aching hard from the way Y/N fit against him like she had been made for this. But in every other way that mattered?

He was falling.

The press of her body against his still burned on his skin. The scent of her, the warmth of her, the way her breath had hitched when his lips skimmed her shoulder—it was all branded into him, carved deep, a permanent mark on his soul.

Then—

A snap. A quick shutter of light.

Not the sound of something breaking, but the sharp click of a camera.

The moment shattered.

Y/N tensed in his arms first, and Max followed her gaze toward the edge of the dance floor. There, barely hidden in the dim light, was a man holding up his phone. The angle was perfect—too perfect. Max didn’t have to be a genius to know what the guy was doing.

Taking pictures.

Taking pictures of them.

His jaw clenched, frustration bubbling under his skin. The club had a strict no-photo policy, but of course, that didn’t mean anything to some people. He had dealt with this before. Drunk fans. Nosy paparazzi. People who couldn’t respect boundaries.

But before Max could move, Y/N was already on it.

The second Y/N stormed toward the man, Max followed, close enough to interfere if necessary but not stepping in just yet.

He didn’t need to—not when she was handling it with a sharp-edged precision that sent a thrill down his spine.

“Delete it,” she demanded, voice like a blade.

The man tried to laugh it off, feigning ignorance. “I-I don’t know what—”

“Don’t insult me.” Her tone was clipped, authoritative in a way that didn’t invite argument. “I know exactly what you were doing, and I will press charges for violating privacy laws. This club has a strict policy. You’ll be blacklisted. Think deeply, I know that can be hard for you”

The guy hesitated.

Y/N didn’t blink.

“You think I won’t? You think I don’t have the fucking means to follow through?” She took another step forward, her body language poised, threatening without needing to raise her voice. “Go ahead. Test me.”

Max saw the exact moment the man caved. He fumbled with his phone, pulling up the gallery with unsteady fingers. Y/N snatched it from his hands before he could do anything else, her eyes scanning the screen.

She deleted the photos herself, went into the trash folder, and erased them permanently. Then, she shoved the phone back into the guy’s chest with a final glare.

“Try that again,” she said, “and I’ll make sure you regret it.”

The man practically tripped over himself as he rushed away, disappearing into the crowd.

Max let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“Remind me never to get on your bad side.” His voice was light, teasing. He wanted to praise her, to tell her how fucking hot that was, how incredible she was when she was like this—strong, fearless, commanding.

But the moment she turned to him, all of that died in his throat.

Because she wasn’t proud of what she had done.

She was angry.

Not at the guy.

At him.

“This.” She gestured sharply toward where the man had disappeared. “This is exactly why I can’t be with you, Max.”

He felt the words like a gut punch.

The heat in her eyes was something deeper than frustration. It was exhaustion, weariness, the kind that settled in your bones when you were just tired of fighting a battle you never asked for.

“The invasion. The cameras. The constant eyes on me, on us,” she continued, voice rising. “You might be used to it, but I’m not. And I don’t want to be.”

Max opened his mouth, but before he could say a word, she turned.

And then she left. Just like that. Again.

He barely had time to react before someone grabbed his arm—a drunk fan, slurring something about a picture.

“Not. Now,” he bit out, shaking them off as gently as he could, barely restraining his frustration.

By the time he shoved past the crowd and made it outside—

She was gone.

His heart pounded.

Then—

A noise.

A struggle.

And then—

A scream.

Y/N.

His body moved before his brain caught up, his feet running toward the sound, toward the darkened corner just beyond the club’s entrance.

“Get the fuck off me!”

His blood went ice cold.

He turned the corner just in time to see a man grabbing Y/N’s wrist, pinning her against the wall. She was fighting, her other hand shoving at his chest, but the guy was persistent, his grip too tight.

Rage surged through Max like a storm.

“HEY!”

His voice was a roar, cutting through the night.

The man barely had time to react before Max was on him.

_________________________________________

Thank you for reading!

If you liked this part please leave a like a comment and a reblog!

Guysss, this is the second to last chapter, I could have made it longer, but I have other things to do in like my irl, which would mean leaving you guys waiting, and I don't wanna do that, I really hope you like this chapter, I wrote in a hurry while taking breaks from packing, this will be scheduled to post around Monday, so that's that.

Jules♡

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like reader who never done a nest, and after marriage started to feel like she wants one but she is not sure of how to made it

after a long long day of working without Ani, she just starts to collect all her favorite clothes including Anakin's one. Her bed now is warm and she feels so safe 💕

Anakin arrives founding her omega all cutely trapped by his clothes, making him giggle, he is so in love 😭

I want to write a alpha!anakin fic :(

odio a milei, odio a trump, odio a la fia, odio a la ultraderecha y odio tener que compartir mundo con ellos.

I was talking with a friend about fanfics and when I said that when I like an author I write down their username and that sometimes I even write phrases about them SHE CALLED ME CREEPY

does anyone have a writing challenge or something?? help