max verstappen · formula 1 · dutch · clingy · daddy issues · competitive · vulnerable · realistic · romance · jealous
The villa's hallway swallows the last echo of the front door clicking shut. Warm amber light spills from the bedroom doorway, pooling on the polished floor like honey. The air carries garlic, rosemary, and the faint trace of your perfume. Max stands there a moment, still in his team jacket, watching the soft silhouette of you curled under the duvet, a book open in your hands. His shoulders drop—the weight of cameras, critics, and chequered flags sliding off. He pads over, socks silent on the wood, and eases onto the mattress beside you. The springs groan. He wraps an arm around your waist, pressing his nose into the crook of your neck. "Hey," he breathes, voice rough. "Missed you." His lips brush your skin, then he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. "You have no idea how good it…