bound by fiction

the first thing you learned after moving onto the walter ranch was that there was nowhere to hide.

the house was too loud. too full.

someone was always shouting from downstairs, someone was always chasing someone else through the hallway, and someone was always stealing food they swore wasn't theirs.

privacy simply didn't exist.

if it wasn't nathan blasting music from his room, it was lee and parker arguing over video games. if it wasn't one of the younger boys running through the kitchen covered in mud, it was katherine calling everyone to dinner before the food got cold.

you'd never lived anywhere like it.

back home in new york, silence had become normal and expected. sometimes unbearable.

here, silence almost felt... suspicious, which was exactly why, by noon, everyone had realized something was wrong.

you hadn't come downstairs for breakfast. you'd ignored danny when he'd knocked on your door asking if you wanted pancakes. you hadn't wandered into the kitchen for coffee.

you hadn't even answered when isaac shouted from downstairs that someone needed another player for basketball.

the walter house noticed absences almost as loudly as it noticed noise.

alex noticed first. he wasn't sure why. maybe because he'd gotten used to seeing you every morning before school.

it had started by accident during your first month on the ranch.

you'd wandered into the kitchen one morning looking half-asleep, still wrapped in one of katherine's sweaters, only to find alex already sitting at the island with a physics textbook open beside his cereal.

"you study before school?" you'd asked, sounding horrified.

he'd shrugged. "it helps."

"i admire your dedication."

"you sound sarcastic."

"i absolutely am."

he'd laughed.

then the next morning, you'd wandered in again. and the morning after that. eventually, neither of you questioned it anymore.

some mornings you talked. some mornings you simply existed in comfortable silence while he worked through calculus problems and you drank coffee slowly enough that katherine joked you were treating every mug like a fine wine tasting.

it became your thing.

quiet mornings before the rest of the house exploded into chaos.

alex liked routines. he liked knowing what to expect, so when your chair sat empty that morning… he noticed.

he didn't say anything. not yet.

by lunch, everyone else had noticed too.

"have either of you seen her?" katherine asked while setting sandwiches on the counter.

"she's probably hiding from cole," danny offered.

"i heard that," cole called from the living room. "you were supposed to." danny called back.

alex looked up from the textbook resting beside his plate.

"she wasn't at breakfast." katherine frowned. "really?"

alex nodded. "and she hasn't answered her phone."

"you texted her?" cole asked, a grin tugging at his mouth.

alex didn't even look at him. "yes."

"ooh."

"it's not like that."

"sure."

alex sighed. "it's literally about homework."

cole raised an eyebrow. "did she answer?"

"...no." that got katherine's attention.

she wiped her hands on a dish towel. "i'll go check on her."

"i'm already going upstairs," alex said quickly.

every head turned toward him. his ears immediately turned pink.

"i mean-" cole smirked. "go on."

"i have to grab another notebook."

"you keep notebooks in the girls' hallway now?"

"i don't-"

"you seem awfully concerned."

alex closed his eyes. "can i just-"

katherine smiled knowingly. "go check on her."

alex left before anyone else could say another word. he ignored the chorus of teasing that followed him up the stairs. 

mostly.

"you owe me five bucks!" one of the twins yelled from downstairs. "i told you he'd go first!"

alex groaned. "they're impossible," he muttered to himself.

he stopped outside your bedroom door. normally, he'd knock twice.

you always answered after the second knock.

today… nothing.

he waited. knocked again. still nothing.

his stomach tightened. "you okay?" he called gently.

silence.

then "...yeah."

the answer came after several long seconds. it didn't sound convincing.

"you sure?" another pause.

"i'm just tired."

alex frowned. you were a terrible liar. not because you weren't convincing, but because whenever something was actually wrong, your voice became quieter. smaller, like you were trying not to take up space.

he rested his forehead briefly against the doorframe. "you don't have to open the door."

no answer. "i just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"...i'm okay."

"you don't sound okay."

the silence that followed felt heavier than before.

eventually… "i'm fine, alex."

the words were gentle, but final. he knew enough not to push. "okay." he hesitated.

"if you need anything..." nothing. "...i'll be downstairs."

he walked away. halfway down the hallway, he heard your sniffle.

his hand tightened around the banister. you'd been crying. he was sure of it.

and somehow… that felt worse than if you'd opened the door.

alex spent the rest of the afternoon trying, and failing, to focus.

he reread the same paragraph in his chemistry textbook four times.

he answered a question in history class incorrectly even though he'd known the answer.

danny nudged him with an elbow. "dude."

"what?"

"you've been staring out the window for ten minutes."

"i have not."

"you absolutely have."

alex sighed. "i'm thinking."

"about?"

he looked outside. "...nothing."

danny followed his gaze. "...is this about her?"

alex didn't answer. which was answer enough.

"you like her."

alex looked offended. "i never said that."

"you didn't have to." danny laughed.

"you have the exact same face you made when you spent three days figuring out how to ask your eighth-grade lab partner to homecoming."

"i did not."

"you absolutely did."

alex groaned. "i just..."

he rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. "i don't know."

"what don't you know?"

"she's been sad lately."

danny’s expression softened. "and you don't know how to help."

alex looked down. "...yeah."

"you could ask."

"i did."

"and?"

"she said she was fine." danny snorted.

"so she's definitely not fine."

"exactly."

the final bell rang before either of them could say anything else. alex packed his bag automatically.

as everyone poured into the parking lot, he remembered something. something you'd said months ago.

it had been spring. the apple trees near the edge of the property had just started blooming.

the two of you had been sitting on the fence watching the horses while he'd attempted to explain a particularly impossible calculus problem.

you'd stopped listening halfway through. instead, you'd been watching wildflowers sway in the breeze. "they're pretty," you'd said absentmindedly.

alex had looked over. "the flowers?"

you nodded. "my mom used to buy these every chance she got."

he'd glanced back toward them. "i didn't know they grew around here."

"they don't."

you smiled a little. "not these." he waited.

"they're..." you'd laughed softly. "actually, forget it."

"what?"

"it sounds silly."

"tell me."

you'd plucked a blade of grass from the fence rail. "my favorite flowers are peonies."

"peonies?"

"they're ridiculously expensive."

"so?"

"so i only ever got them on birthdays."

you'd smiled to yourself. "our kitchen always smelled like them."

you'd looked toward the mountains. "i think that's why i love them."

alex had nodded. then, as usual… he remembered.

he always remembered.

the rest of the day didn’t get easier.

it never really did, once the idea had settled in alex’s mind that something was wrong and you weren’t letting anyone help.

he tried, though. he really did.

he tried to act like he wasn’t replaying your voice from behind the bedroom door over and over in his head. but every time he closed his eyes, he heard it again.

“i’m fine, alex.”

except you weren’t. he knew that now.

by the time he got back to the ranch, the sun was already starting to dip behind the hills, stretching long shadows across the driveway.

the house was loud, as always.

lee and parker were arguing about something involving a soccer ball and a broken lamp.

cole was laughing at something on his phone that definitely shouldn’t have been funny.

katherine was calling from the kitchen, telling someone to take their shoes off before tracking mud inside.

normal chaos. familiar chaos.

alex walked straight through it. “alex!” one of the twins called. “you gonna help us fix the fence later?”

“maybe later,” he said automatically. “that means no!” someone shouted back.

he didn’t stop. he couldn’t. his hands were already slightly sweaty around the small paper bag he’d been holding since he left town.

he almost convinced himself it was stupid, but then he’d thought about your voice again.

you hadn’t come downstairs all day. you hadn’t even been to school. that part hadn’t changed.

alex stood outside your door again. same silence waiting on the other side.

he knocked once. then again. this time, your voice came quicker. “…yeah?”

still soft. still too small. he exhaled.

“it’s me.” a pause. “…alex?”

“yeah.”

another pause, longer this time. then, quietly “...you can come in.” he opened the door slowly.

you were still curled up on the bed, blanket pulled halfway over your legs, hair messy like you’d been lying there for hours without moving.

your eyes were red. you tried to hide it the second you saw him, but failed immediately.

alex closed the door behind him. he didn’t say anything at first. he just looked at you. really looked, like he was trying to memorize the exact shape of your sadness so he could figure out how to carry it for you.

“hey,” he said finally. “hey.”

silence.

you sat up a little straighter, like posture could fix everything. it couldn’t.

he stepped closer, then stopped at the edge of the bed like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to take up space there. “i brought something,” he said.

you frowned slightly. “you didn’t have to-”

“i know.” he held up the paper bag.

then, almost awkwardly “...you were sad so i got you some of your favorite flowers.”

the sentence landed between you both like something fragile being set down very carefully.

you froze. “alex…”

he pulled the bouquet out slowly and there they were.

peonies mixed with soft white blooms and pale pink flowers.

your breath caught. “you remembered,” you whispered.

he blinked. “yeah.”

like it was obvious. like there had never been any question.

your fingers tightened around the blanket. “i told you that once.”

“i know.” you looked down at the flowers, then back at him.

something in your chest cracked open in a way that didn’t feel sharp. just… heavy.

“it was months ago.”

“i know,” he said again, softer this time.

you laughed a little, but it broke halfway through. “why would you even remember that?”

alex frowned slightly, like the question didn’t make sense. “because it was you.”

that was it. so simple like that explained everything.

your throat tightened. you looked away quickly, blinking hard.

“i’ve just been… off,” you admitted quietly. alex nodded once, like he already knew that part. “yeah.”

you swallowed. “it’s stupid.”

“it’s not.”

you hesitated. the words felt stuck somewhere deep, like if you said them out loud, they’d become real in a way you couldn’t take back.

alex didn’t rush you. he never did. he just stood there, patient in that quiet way of his, like he had nowhere else to be.

finally, you said it. barely above a whisper. “it’s the anniversary.”

he didn’t ask of what. he didn’t make you explain immediately. he just nodded slowly.

“... i understand."

somehow that made your chest loosen more than anything else had all day.

you exhaled shakily. “i didn’t want to make it everyone’s problem.”

alex’s expression shifted immediately. not angry. just… certain. “it’s not a problem.”

you looked at him. he stepped closer then, careful, like approaching something fragile.

“you don’t have to do this alone.”

your eyes burned again. “i didn’t know how to say it.”

“you don’t have to know how.”

a beat. then, quieter “you can just tell me.”

your grip on the blanket loosened. “i didn’t think anyone would notice. there is so much else going on all the time.”

alex sat down on the edge of the bed then, slow and deliberate, like he was making a choice to stay. “i did. i noticed.”

he looked at the flowers in your hands, then back at you. “i always notice.”

that did it. something in you finally gave way. not dramatically, just quietly. almost like a held breath you didn’t realize you’d been keeping.

you leaned forward, forehead briefly pressing into his shoulder. alex didn’t hesitate. his arm came around you immediately, steady and warm.

no hesitation. no awkward distance. just there.

you held onto him like it was the only solid thing in the room. “…thank you,” you whispered.

“for what?”

you let out a shaky laugh. “...for the flowers.”

he exhaled softly, like he’d been holding his breath too. “you like them?”

you nodded against him. “yeah.”

a pause. then, almost teasing despite everything “you did good.”

you felt him smile faintly against your hair. “yeah?”

“yeah.”

silence settled again, but this time it didn’t feel empty. just full.

outside, the walter house kept being itself. loud, chaotic, alive. but in here, for once, everything was still. and alex stayed.

people always noticed jackie first.

it had been that way your entire life.

she was brighter, louder in the way that drew people in without trying. she filled spaces easily, like she belonged in them the second she stepped in. conversations found her. people gravitated toward her.

and you.

you stayed a step behind.

not invisible. never that.

just… quieter.

watching instead of speaking. listening instead of leading. noticing the things other people didn’t.

it didn’t bother you.

not really.

you liked it that way.

when you and jackie arrived at the walters’ house, everything felt too big.

too loud.

too much.

voices overlapped before you even made it fully inside, footsteps echoing, someone shouting from upstairs, laughter bursting from somewhere down the hall. it felt like stepping into a storm. warm, chaotic, impossible to fully take in.

you instinctively moved closer to jackie.

not because you needed to be protected, but because she grounded you.

“this is insane,” she whispered, half-laughing, half-overwhelmed.

you nodded slightly.

insane felt like an understatement.

boys, so many boys, moving around like they owned the place, bumping into each other, arguing, joking, barely noticing the two of you at first.

and then… they did.

introductions blurred together.

names you tried to memorize. faces you quietly studied. personalities that filled the room before you could even process them.

you didn’t say much.

just soft “hi”s and small smiles.

you didn’t need to.

you were already paying attention.

that's when you noticed him.

he wasn’t the loudest.

wasn’t trying to be.

while the others talked over each other, he stood slightly off to the side. present, but not pushing himself forward.

observing. just like you.

your eyes caught on him for half a second longer than the others.

he noticed, you knew he did.

because his gaze flickered toward you. quick, subtle, but intentional and for a moment, everything else blurred.

you looked away first.

his name was alex.

you learned that a few minutes later, when someone said it too loudly across the room.

you stored it away quietly.

alex.

you didn’t expect him to notice you again.

people usually didn’t.

not when jackie was there. laughing, talking, naturally becoming part of everything and you were okay with that.

you had always been okay with that, but alex…

alex noticed everything.

it started small.

a glance when no one else was looking.

a chair pulled out next to you at dinner, even when there were other spots.

a quiet “you good?” when things got too loud.

he never made a big deal out of it.

never put you on the spot.

he just… made space for you and somehow, you found yourself stepping into it.

the first time he asked you to step outside, you almost thought he meant jackie.

he appeared beside you in the living room, where the noise was starting to press in on your chest, your fingers curled tightly in the sleeves of your sweater.

“hey,” he said softly.

you looked up, startled for a second. “hi.”

he glanced around, then back at you. “wanna get some air?”

you blinked. “me?”

he smiled. small, reassuring. “yeah. you.”

your heart did something strange. “okay,” you said quietly.

the porch became your place after that.

not officially.

not in a way anyone talked about.

but somehow, whenever things got too loud, too overwhelming…

you’d both end up there.

together.

you didn’t talk much at first.

that was the thing about alex. he didn’t rush you, didn’t fill the silence just because it was there, he let it exist and for you, that meant everything.

you could sit beside him, listening to the distant noise from inside, feeling the cool air against your skin, and not feel like you had to perform.

not like you had to be more than you were.

you could just… be.

“you notice everything, don’t you?”

his voice broke the quiet one evening.

you turned your head slightly. “what?”

he was already looking at you. not intensely. just… steadily.

“you don’t say much,” he continued, “but you’re always paying attention.”

your fingers tightened slightly in your sleeves. most people didn’t see that.

“i guess,” you said softly. he smiled a little. “i like that.”

your breath caught, just a little.

“why?”

he shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “i don’t know. makes things feel… real. like someone’s actually seeing what’s going on.”

you looked down, processing that. then, quieter:  “i see you.”

the words slipped out before you could stop them.

his expression shifted. something softer. something warmer.

“yeah?” he asked. you nodded, barely.

“yeah.”

after that, things changed.

not all at once.

but enough that you felt it.

he started seeking you out, not in a way that drew attention, but in the small, quiet ways that mattered.

standing beside you instead of across the room, asking you questions he actually waited for answers to, not interrupting when you spoke, even if it took you longer to find the words.

you started opening up.

you told him things you didn’t usually say out loud.

small thoughts. observations. feelings you normally kept tucked away and he listened.

like it mattered, like you mattered.

one night, the house felt louder than usual. too many voices. too much movement.

you found yourself retreating to the hallway, pressing your back lightly against the wall, trying to steady your breathing.

you didn’t even notice him approaching at first. “hey.” you looked up.

alex, of course. 

“hi,” you said quietly. he studied you for a second. “too much?”

you nodded. he didn’t ask anything else.

just tilted his head slightly toward the door. “come on.”

outside, the air felt cooler. calmer.

you exhaled slowly, your shoulders relaxing.

“better?” he asked. “yeah.”

you sat beside him, pulling your knees up slightly, your hands tucked into your sleeves.

he glanced at you, then “i’m glad you came here.”

you frowned faintly. “with jackie?”

“no,” he said softly. “you.”

your heart skipped. “oh.” he smiled a little, like he could tell you weren’t used to hearing that.

“you’re… easy to be around,” he added. “in a good way.”

you looked down, your cheeks warming. “i’m not very… interesting.”

“that’s not true.” you glanced up at him. his expression was steady. certain.

“you just don’t try to be loud about it,” he continued. “but you are.”

your chest tightened. no one had ever said that before.

the silence that followed felt different. full. your fingers fidgeted slightly in your sleeves.

“alex…”

“yeah? you hesitated a bit before speaking again.

“do you ever feel like… you’re just kind of there? like people don’t really see you?”

the words came out quieter than you intended. he didn’t answer right away.

“sometimes,” he said eventually. “but not with you.”

you blinked. “what do you mean?” he turned slightly, facing you more fully.

“i mean, when i’m with you, things feel… clearer. like i’m not just background noise.”

your breath caught. “you’re the best part of my day, everyday.”

the words were soft, but they hit harder than anything loud ever could.

you stared at him, your mind struggling to catch up. “alex…”

“i mean it,” he said quickly, like he was worried you wouldn’t believe him. “i know you don’t like a lot of attention, and i’m not trying to make this a big thing, i just-” he exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “you matter. a lot. to me.”

your chest felt tight. too full.

“you’re… my favorite part too,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

his expression softened instantly. “yeah?”

you nodded. “yeah.”

he reached for your hand slowly.

like he was giving you time to pull away.

you didn’t. your fingers slipped into his, tentative at first, then steadier.

his hand was warm.

grounding.

“i’d do anything for you, you know.”

you looked at him, your brows knitting slightly.

“anything?” he nodded.

his voice wasn’t teasing, not even a little.

“i’d kill for you and you know it.”

your eyes widened just slightly.

“that’s… a lot.” he huffed a quiet laugh. “okay, maybe not literally.”

“good,” you murmured. “but i mean it,” he continued, softer now. “i’ve got you. always. you don’t have to say everything out loud for me to understand. i’m still here.”

your throat tightened, because that…

that meant more than anything.

“i know,” you said quietly. “and i’ve got you too,” you added after a second.

he smiled. gentle. “good.”

inside, jackie’s laughter echoed faintly through the door. familiar. warm.

you loved her for how easily she fit into the world, but for the first time, you didn’t feel like you were standing in her shadow.

out here you felt seen. not for being loud, not for being bright, but for being you.

and alex, he saw all of it. every quiet piece. every small detail. every unspoken thought.

you leaned your head lightly against his shoulder.

he stilled for half a second.

then relaxed into it.

his fingers tightened just slightly around yours.

steady and certain.

“hey,” you whispered. “yeah?”

“don’t… stop noticing me. please” he didn’t hesitate. “never.”

and this time, you didn’t doubt it for a second…

a week later, the porch was a bit quieter than usual.

not because the house had changed. jackie was still laughing somewhere inside, music still faintly pulsing from the living room, but outside, with the cool night settling over the yard, it was just you and alex.

you shifted a little closer in your chair, letting your knees brush his. he didn’t pull away. instead, he tilted his head, letting a small smile curl at the corner of his lips.

“you know,” he said softly, eyes tracing the outline of your face in the dim porch light, “i like it when you do that.”

“do what?” you whispered, heart thudding before you even realized why.

“lean in,” he said. “like i’m the only person you need to be near.”

you looked down, cheeks heating. “i just… like being out here. with you.”

his hand found yours, warm and steady, thumb brushing over the back of your hand in a way that made your stomach flip. “i like it too. more than anything.”

you didn’t say anything, because words would ruin it. he understood anyway.

after a beat, he tilted his head, letting his forehead brush against yours. you tilted toward him instinctively, nose touching nose, the faintest laugh escaping you.

“you’re ridiculous,” you murmured, eyes fluttering closed.

“yeah,” he whispered back, voice low, “but i’m your ridiculous. and i’m not letting you go.”

you couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face. “good. because i’m not going anywhere either.”

alex laughed softly, then leaned down, brushing a kiss against your temple. just a gentle touch, but it made your chest ache in all the right ways.

“you’re really something, you know that?” he said quietly. “quiet, soft, paying attention to everything and yet somehow you’re the most important thing i see.”

you blinked, heart soaring. “alex…”

“yeah?”

“i… like you,” you admitted, finally letting the words out. “a lot... it's kind of scary.”

his grin widened, the kind that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. “i’d hoped you’d say that. because i like you too. way too much.”

and then, because words weren’t enough, he leaned closer, hands gently cradling your face as he kissed you. soft, lingering, nothing rushed. you melted into it, letting yourself finally be seen completely, not just in the quiet moments, but in the kiss, in the laughter that followed, in the gentle touches that felt like home.

when you pulled back, noses still touching, you whispered, “you’re the best part of my day, alex.”

he smiled, pressing his forehead to yours. “and you’re mine. always.”

the night stretched on, full of small touches, quiet laughter, hand-holding, and the kind of warmth that only comes when someone finally sees you, all of you, and decides they’re staying.

the first thing you feel is warmth.

not sunlight, not the soft duvet pulled up under your chin, not even the gentle breeze coming through the cracked window. no. it’s lando radiating heat like a human furnace, pressed fully along your back, one arm draped around your waist like he’s guarding treasure.

his treasure, apparently, is you.

you try to wiggle a bit, adjusting your leg that’s fallen asleep, but the second you move, his hold tightens, a quiet, gravelly groan escaping him.

“don’t,” he mumbles, voice still thick with sleep. “five more minutes.”

“you say that every morning,” you whisper, not daring to fully break the soft bubble of early morning peace.

lando nuzzles into your shoulder, messy curls tickling your neck. he lets out another dramatic sigh that tells you he’s awake, aware, and already in one of his needy moods.

you stay still.

he sighs again.

you bite back a smile.

finally, after a long moment of theatrical suffering, he speaks, mumbling against your skin like he’s been wronged.

“i would like my good morning kiss now.”

you snort. “you’re demanding for someone who kept me up past midnight watching your old karting races.”

he lifts his head just enough for you to see his squinty, offended little expression.

“that was educational,” he protests weakly. “important cultural history.”

“mhm.”

lando shifts, rolling you onto your back so he can flop half on top of you, chest heavy and warm against yours. he blinks at you sleepily. it’s the kind of look that could convince you to do absolutely anything.

but he doesn’t kiss you yet. instead, he just stares.

you don’t know what he sees, but whatever it is, it hits him like a truck. his eyes widen just a bit. his mouth opens, closes, then opens again like he’s buffering.

then he says, with full sincerity “you’re so pretty. it’s actually unfair. i’m mad at you now.”

you blink. “mad? at me?”

“yes.” he throws an arm across his own forehead like he’s in a shakespearean tragedy. “for being all… that.” he gestures at your face. “first thing in the morning? cruelty.”

you laugh, pushing a curl off his forehead. “should i apologize?”

“yes,” he says instantly. “and then kiss me.”

“i see.”

lando rolls onto his side but keeps an arm locked around you, pulling you close again. “you’re laughing at me,” he accuses softly, though he’s smiling too.

“only a little.”

he grins, which only makes you laugh harder.

you cup his cheek. “come here.”

and finally, finally, he gets his kiss. soft, slow, unhurried. the kind of morning kiss that feels like a beginning, like a promise.

when you pull away, lando’s grin is blinding.

“there,” he murmurs. “now i can live.”

“dramatic.”

“accurate.”

the morning unfolds the way it always does. slow and gentle, with lando trailing you like a sleepy puppy.

when you shuffle into the kitchen, he follows, feet dragging on the floor, curls sticking in every direction. he loops his arms around your waist from behind as you reach for the kettle.

you’re not even sure he’s fully awake.

“love,” you say softly, “you want tea or coffee?”

lando hums, face against your shoulder. “whatever you’re having.”

“i’m making green tea.”

“i want that.”

you smile because you know tomorrow he’ll insist he hates green tea. he always forgets.

you make two mugs, sliding one onto the counter next to his half-asleep form. he blinks at it like he’s not entirely sure what it is.

“thank you,” he finally says, voice warm and sincere.

the two of you sit at the tiny kitchen table. he insisted on buying it because it was “the perfect size for breakfast dates,” even though breakfast usually consists of you both staring into space for ten minutes before your brains boot up.

he takes a sip of his tea, then immediately makes a face.

“it tastes like grass.”

“you asked for it.”

“no,” he corrects, pointing at you accusingly, “i said i wanted whatever you were having. you tricked me.”

“lando.”

“this is betrayal.”

“drink your grass tea.”

he grins and does.

after breakfast, you both move into the living room. the sky is a soft grey, hinting that rain might come later. you kind of hope it does. rainy days mean a slower pace, and lando, despite being a professional athlete, is surprisingly good at being lazy.

he collapses onto the couch dramatically, sprawling out and patting the empty space beside him.

you raise an eyebrow. “what happened to going for your morning run?”

“i’ve evolved beyond that.”

“is that so?”

“yes.” he pats the couch again. “come lie with me. i need to recharge.”

“recharge from what?”

“being awake for twenty minutes.”

you roll your eyes but give in, settling beside him. he instantly tugs you into his chest, chin resting atop your head. you can feel his heartbeat, steady and slow. safe.

you’re rewatching stranger things before the fifth and last season soon releases. you’re currently watching the first episode of season three. lando lazily draws circles on your arm with his thumb, eyes half-closed.

“you know,” he murmurs, “i like this.”

“what, me?”

“well, obviously you,” he says, nudging your forehead with his. “but i meant… this. us. mornings like this.”

you tilt your head up. “yeah?”

“yeah.” his voice softens, sincerity slipping through the cracks of his sleepiness. “feels like home.”

your stomach flips. “you’re sappy today.”

“i’m always sappy. you just ignore it.”

“i don’t ignore-”

he kisses you mid-sentence, effectively shutting you up.

“see?” he whispers, lips ghosting yours. “ignoring my heartfelt confession.”

you rest your head back on his chest, cheeks warm. “i like this too.”

“good.” he exhales, relaxing. “otherwise i’d have to be very dramatic all day.”

“you already do that.”

“true.”

later, you end up doing laundry together. well, you do laundry while lando sits on the floor beside the basket and provides commentary.

“your socks are tiny.”

“they’re normal.”

“compared to mine? tiny.”

“lando, everything is tiny compared to yours. you have clown feet.”

“take that back.”

“no.”

he gasps. “you’re bullying an innocent man.”

“you? innocent?”

“i am!” he insists, grabbing a t-shirt of his and folding it terribly out of protest. “look at me. pure.”

you look at the messy fold. “you just committed a crime.”

he throws the shirt at you.

you laugh, tossing it back, and soon it becomes some kind of soft chaos. shirts hitting heads, socks flying, lando trying to catch a hoodie mid-air and dramatically missing.

“we’re not getting any laundry done,” you point out eventually, breathless from laughing.

lando shrugs. “consider it quality bonding time.”

around lunchtime, he decides he wants to cook.

he should not be allowed to cook.

the last time he made pasta, he forgot the noodles.

today’s attempt is eggs.

simple.

supposedly.

you stand to the side, arms crossed, watching as he cracks eggs with too much enthusiasm and somehow manages to get shells in the bowl every single time.

“i’ve got it under control,” he says confidently while fishing out a piece of shell with a fork.

“do you?”

“yes. i am a master chef.”

you hum skeptically.

“don’t doubt me,” he insists, whisking the eggs with the energy of someone trying to create a cyclone.

“i’m just saying maybe we should-”

the whisk flies out of his hand.

literally flies.

lands in the sink with a loud clatter.

you stare.

lando stares.

he lets out a quiet, horrified “oh.”

you burst out laughing, bending forward, holding the counter for support.

lando sulks. “stop laughing at me.”

“you- you launched the whisk, lan.”

“it slipped!”

“that thing reached orbit.”

he crosses his arms. “i’m replacing you with oscar.”

“go ahead,” you say between giggles. “he’d at least keep the whisk on earth.”

lando narrows his eyes. “that’s it. omelette privileges revoked. we’re ordering food.”

the rest of the afternoon is lazy and soft. lots of couch time. lots of lando pretending your feet are “invading his personal space.” lots of you joking that he snores (he insists he doesn’t, he absolutely does).

and then the rain comes. soft at first, then steady.

you curl up together under a blanket, the room dim and warm.

lando’s fingers comb slowly through your hair, over and over. it’s calming in a way you’ll never fully be able to describe.

after a long silence, he whispers, “you know… i really wasn’t kidding this morning.”

you tilt your head, looking up at him. “about what?”

“being mad at you for being pretty,” he teases, nudging your nose with his. then his voice softens. “but also…” he hesitates, like he’s picking the right words. “about loving mornings with you.”

your heart melts. “yeah?”

he nods, gaze gentle. “it makes all the noise go quiet.”

you tuck yourself closer. “you make everything feel easier.”

lando smiles. a small, soft, real one he only ever shows you.

“good,” he murmurs, kissing the top of your head. “then we match.”

you laugh quietly, brushing your fingers along his jaw.

he leans down just enough for your lips to meet again. slow and warm and familiar.

when he pulls away, he whispers, like it’s a secret only for you.

“good morning… even if it’s not morning anymore.”

you grin. “you want another kiss?”

“i always want another kiss.”

so you give him one.

and then another.

and another.

because lando norris may be dramatic, impossible, chaotic, clingy, overly honest, and an absolute menace in the kitchen-

but he’s yours.

you didn’t mean to steal it.

it’s not like you woke up and decided today is the day i commit hoodie theft. it just… happened.

the morning starts earlier than planned. the sun is barely up, light spilling across the cut in that soft golden way that makes everything feel quieter, like the world hasn’t fully woken yet. you’d crashed at john b’s place the night before, all of you spread out between the chateau’s couch and the floor, windows open to let the breeze in. jj snored the entire night. pope complained about it at least five times. sarah eventually threw a pillow at him.

john b slept through all of it.

now the house is still, the others not awake yet, and you’re standing barefoot in the kitchen, digging through your bag. you hadn’t expected the morning air to be this cold.

that’s when you see it.

the hoodie is draped over the back of a chair, like it was tossed there without a second thought. faded gray. sleeves worn at the cuffs. you recognize it instantly. john b wears it everywhere. on the boat, on late nights, on days when he looks like he’s carrying too much.

you hesitate for exactly two seconds.

then you pull it on.

it’s warm in that comforting way, the kind that sinks into your skin. it smells like saltwater and sunscreen and something that’s unmistakably john b. the sleeves fall past your hands, the hem nearly reaching your thighs.

you smile.

outside, the air is cool but manageable now. you sit on the steps of the chateau, knees pulled to your chest, watching the sun climb higher. for a moment, everything feels calm.

you don’t hear him at first.

“you know that’s mine, right?”

you freeze.

slowly, you turn around.

john b stands in the doorway, hair messy, barefoot, wearing a crooked smile that tells you he’s more amused than annoyed. he squints slightly.

“yeah,” he says. “that.”

you glance down at the hoodie, then back up.

“this old thing?”

you grin. “found it.”

“found it,” he repeats. “in my house.”

“exactly.”

he laughs quietly, stepping closer. “that’s my favorite one.”

you tug the sleeves over your hands. “was.”

he stops in front of you, eyes flicking over how the hoodie hangs off you, how comfortable you look. something in his expression softens.

“you didn’t ask,” he says, but there’s no real complaint in his voice.

“you were asleep,” you reply. “i figured i’d apologize later.”

“are you apologizing now?”

you look up at him. “no.”

that makes him laugh again. he drops down onto the step beside you, close enough that your shoulders almost touch.

“guess i’ll survive,” he says.

the rest of the pogues wake up not long after.

jj is the first to notice.

“my hoodie,” john b says immediately.

he steps outside, rubbing his eyes, then freezes.

“hold up. is that-”

jj grins. “wow. that’s rough.”

“it’s not rough,” john b mutters.

“yeah,” pope adds. “kinda suits you.”

sarah steps out next, smiling when she sees you.

“it looks good on you.”

your face warms. john b doesn’t say anything. he just watches you, jaw tight, like there’s something he’s not saying.

by late morning, you’re all on the hms pogue. the wind picks up as john b takes the wheel, and you sit near the bow, hoodie pulled close. he glances at you more than he should.

there’s something about seeing you in his clothes that feels different. more personal. like something shifted without either of you noticing.

jj leans over to him. “you gonna ask for it back?”

john b shakes his head. “nah.”

jj smirks. “didn’t think so.”

later, as the sun starts to dip, you’re sitting in the sand near the cut. john b drops down beside you.

“you really like that hoodie, huh?”

“it’s comfortable,” you say.

he nudges your shoulder. “you could’ve asked.”

“would you’ve said yes?”

he doesn’t answer right away. instead, he gently tugs on the sleeve, pulling it back just enough to reveal your hand. his fingers brush yours.

“yeah,” he says quietly. “i would’ve.”

you meet his eyes, and something settles between you, steady and warm.

“i can give it back,” you say.

he shakes his head. “nah.”

“no?”

he smiles. “you can steal my hoodie anytime.”

you smile back. “careful. i might.”

“i’m counting on it.”

as the sky turns pink and gold, you lean into his shoulder. he shifts slightly, letting you settle in.

december comes to hawkins quietly.

it doesn’t arrive with magic or miracles or anything cinematic. it creeps in slowly, frosting the edges of sidewalks, dusting rooftops with thin layers of snow, stringing flickering christmas lights across main street that only half-work. the air smells like cold and pine and something sweet trying very hard to survive winter.

you barely notice.

you’re busy. always.

between extra shifts, covering for coworkers, and trying to save every dollar you can, december feels less like a holiday and more like a test of endurance. you leave the house before the sun rises and come back when everything’s dark and quiet, when even dustin’s already asleep.

he complains about it, of course.

“you’re never home,” he says one morning, mouth full of cereal.

you kiss the top of his head, grab your coat, promise him you’ll make it up to him later.

you don’t say when.

the guilt follows you anyway.

the first night you really notice something’s different is when you come home late and hear laughter from the kitchen.

dustin’s voice is unmistakable.

the other one is… steve harrington’s.

you stop just inside the doorway, keys still in your hand, listening.

“i’m just saying,” dustin says, “you’re basically family now.”

“wow,” steve replies, dramatic. “i don’t even get a warning before i’m adopted?”

you finally step in, shrugging off your coat. “adopted into what?”

steve turns in his chair, and his face lights up like you’ve flipped a switch.

“hey,” he says. “you’re home.”

something about the way he says it makes your chest feel warm and tight at the same time.

dustin grins. “steve brought eggnog. the good kind.”

steve lifts the carton slightly. “extra nutmeg. didn’t know if you liked it, but i figured-”

“i do,” you say quickly. “i mean. yeah. thank you.”

he smiles, softer now.

that’s how december starts.

steve starts showing up more.

at first it’s normal. babysitting. helping dustin with homework. hanging out because the kids insist.

then it becomes less explainable.

steve stops by with coffee when he knows you’ve worked a double. he offers rides when it’s cold, or late, or when the roads are bad. he lingers after dustin goes to bed, sitting with you at the kitchen table while you rub at your temples and complain about customers.

he listens.

really listens.

one night, he drives you home after a late shift. the heater’s blasting, christmas music playing low on the radio. the windows fog up, and the world outside feels far away.

you talk until your voice gives out.

you don’t remember falling asleep.

you wake up to silence.

the car is parked in your driveway, engine off. snow is falling softly, blanketing everything in white. steve is still there, hands folded on the steering wheel, staring out the windshield like he’s guarding something important.

“steve?” you murmur.

he jumps. “oh- sorry. i didn’t want to wake you.”

“you could’ve.”

he shrugs. “you needed the rest.”

your heart does something inconvenient.

the snowstorm hits a week later.

work keeps you late again. the roads ice over faster than expected, and by the time you’re let out, the parking lot is nearly empty.

except for steve’s car.

he’s leaning against it, snow dusting his jacket, hair tucked under a beanie.

you laugh when you see him. “what are you doing here?”

he shrugs, like it’s obvious. “didn’t want you walking home.”

“i could’ve called.”

“i know.”

he opens the door for you, and when your hands brush, neither of you pull away right away.

it’s small. it’s nothing.

it feels like everything.

the house fills with christmas decorations.

cheap ones. mismatched ones. a tree that leans slightly to the left. steve insists the crookedness gives it “character,” and dustin backs him up immediately.

you decorate late at night, music loud, steve lifting dustin to place the star while you laugh from the couch.

eventually, dustin disappears to bed.

you and steve sit on the floor, backs against the couch, christmas lights blinking softly.

“you work too much,” steve says.

you sigh. “someone has to.”

“that’s not what i meant.”

you glance at him. his face is softer like this, lit by warm lights instead of fluorescent bulbs or headlights.

“then what did you mean?”

he hesitates. “i mean… you deserve more than just surviving.”

the words settle deep.

you don’t answer.

not yet.

the realization sneaks up on you.

it’s in the way you look for steve when you walk into a room. the way you save him the good mug without thinking. the way your chest aches when he talks about leaving hawkins someday.

it hits the night before christmas eve.

you come home exhausted, shoulders heavy, eyes burning. the month has finally caught up with you.

the lights are on.

steve is standing in the living room, holding a badly wrapped present, nerves written all over his face.

“i wasn’t sure if-” he stops when he really looks at you. “hey. you okay?”

you drop your bag.

the tears come fast, surprising and overwhelming.

steve crosses the room immediately. he doesn’t touch you at first, just stays close, steady.

“hey… you’re home now,” he says gently. “that’s all that matters.”

you break.

you lean into him, forehead against his chest, hands fisting in his sweater. he wraps his arms around you like he’s been waiting to.

“i think i’m in love with you,” you whisper, voice shaking.

for a moment, he doesn’t speak.

then he laughs softly, breath warm against your hair.

“yeah,” he says. “me too.”

you pull back just enough to look at him.

“really?”

“yeah,” he repeats, eyes bright. “i have been for a while.”

you don’t think.

you kiss him.

it’s soft at first, tentative, like you’re both checking if this is real. his hands come up to your face, thumbs warm against your cheeks. when you sigh, he deepens it slightly, slow and careful, like he’s memorizing you.

you rest your forehead against his afterward, smiling through tears.

“merry christmas,” you murmur.

he kisses you again, a little more confident this time.

“best one i’ve had,” he says.

outside, snow falls heavier.

you’d learned early in life that some people are born into warmth, and some have to teach themselves how to live without it.

your family wasn’t bad in the traditional sense. no screaming, no broken plates, no catastrophic scenes out of a childhood memoir. they were simply indifferent. careless in the way that does the deepest damage, because someone who ignores you almost hurts more than someone who dislikes you. at least hatred acknowledges your existence.

but you? you were the afterthought. the background character in your own home.

your parents loved your siblings loudly. endless photos on the fridge, congratulatory posts, dinners in their honor while you became the caretaker, the one who “understood,” the one who “didn’t need as much attention.” 

they called you independent. mature. easy. you knew what those words really meant. you were the unfavorite and after years of birthdays that felt like obligations, of conversations that ended before they began, of being told “you’re fine, you always are,” you started to believe it. maybe you were built for the background. maybe you weren’t meant to be anyone’s priority.

you learned to shrink. to not ask for more. to swallow the loneliness like medicine.you got good at pretending.

a coincidence changed everything though. you never expected formula one to be a place where your life changed. you weren’t even particularly obsessed with racing. you enjoyed the chaos, the strategy, the velocity, sure, but you weren’t the kind of fan who owned merch or memorized lap times.

you were just tagging along with a friend who’d won two paddock passes through a random contest. she was the f1 fanatic. you were the “sure, why not?” plus one.

the paddock overwhelmed you immediately. glamorous people everywhere, journalists, engines screaming in the background. you felt like you didn’t belong, just like every other part of your life.

“don’t disappear,” your friend warned before dragging you toward the garages. you tried to keep up… 

and walked straight into someone. someone solid. someone who steadied you with hands on your arms, gentle but firm. “woah—careful,” a voice said. slightly deep, slightly amused. you looked up and froze.

max verstappen. the guy half the paddock seemed afraid to annoy and the other half wanted to photograph.

“oh my god, sorry,” you blurted, preparing for annoyance, irritation, or worst of all. disinterest. but max didn’t let go. he tilted his head, checking your face as if making sure you were actually okay. his eyes were the kind that saw too much.

“you alright?” he asked softly. you nodded, even though your heart was sprinting faster than his red bull ever could.

he smiled. small, but real. “good. pit lane can be hectic.” your friend returned, eyes wide. “max verstappen. hi. sorry. she’s clumsy.”

you winced at the jab, familiar with the casual humiliations. but max didn’t laugh. instead, his gaze flicked to your friend briefly and then right back to you.

“nothing wrong with bumping into the right person,” he said, still smiling. your chest tightened. people didn’t talk to you like that. you weren’t the person people singled out. but he was already glancing back toward the garage. duty called.

“enjoy the race,” he told you, then he jogged off. you assumed that would be it, the kind of brief celebrity encounter your friend would brag about forever. you didn’t expect to see him again.

except he found you again. after the race, you were leaning against a railing scrolling aimlessly when someone stepped beside you. “you didn’t get lost,” max remarked. you jumped. “you- hi. no. i, um, stayed in one place on purpose.”

he chuckled softly. “smart.” your friend was nowhere in sight. she’d disappeared to hunt autographs. maybe that was the only reason max approached you again. maybe it had nothing to do with the way he kept looking at you like you were someone worth noticing.

you talked. just ten minutes. but it felt like a lifetime of someone finally asking you questions no one had ever bothered with.

where you were from. what you studied. what kind of job you wanted. what made you laugh.

he listened. actually listened. and he smiled at your answers, not the polite smile of someone being kind, but the interested smile of someone cataloguing details.

when you parted ways, he lifted a hand in a soft wave. “maybe i’ll see you again.” you didn’t think he meant it, but then you got a dm from his real private account.

“hey remember me?” 

your breath left your body. you messaged back. he replied instantly. and then… it never stopped.

messages turned into calls. calls turned into flights. flights turned into him meeting you at a quiet restaurant and saying, hands fidgeting, that he didn’t meet people like you often.

you thought he was lying. you didn’t realize yet that max verstappen never said things he didn’t mean.

being with max didn’t magically erase years of neglect, but it did something gentler. it built something new over them. soft layer after soft layer, like he was rebuilding you from the inside out.

he texted you good morning every single day without fail. he called you after every race, even the ones he won, even when he was exhausted.

“you watched?” he’d ask. “of course,” you’d answer. “tell me your favorite part.” as if your opinion mattered more than the trophy sitting behind him.

he brought you small gifts from every country. things he thought you’d like, not the typical merch or souvenirs. a book he saw in an airport because “you might like the cover.” a necklace that reminded him of a conversation you’d had weeks earlier.

he noticed everything and yet you kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. people didn’t choose you. people didn’t stay. max sensed it before you ever admitted it.

“you disappear sometimes,” he murmured one night when you were curled against him on the hotel bed, your head on his chest. “not physically. just… your mind goes somewhere.” you stiffened. “sorry.”

he shook his head quickly. “don’t apologize. i just want to know where you go.” you swallowed. you’d never said it aloud to anyone. not even yourself, really. “sometimes i feel like i’m… so replaceable,” you whispered.

he went still, completely still, like the words physically froze him. “by who?” he asked sharply. “everyone,” you breathed. “my family always made me feel like i wasn’t anyone’s favorite. like i didn’t need attention or care. like other people mattered more.” you dug your fingers into the sheets. “sometimes i worry you’ll realize that too. that i’m nothing special.”

you expected silence. you expected him to sigh or look uncomfortable. you expected him to say something polite, something surface-level. but max sat up, pulling you with him so you were facing him. his hands cradled your cheeks like you were something precious.

“look at me,” he said. you did. and his expression- god. it was soft and fierce at the same time. like he was angry on your behalf, like he couldn’t believe anyone had ever failed to love you properly.

“you are the furthest thing from replaceable.” his thumbs stroked your jaw. “you think i chase people who don’t matter to me? you think i make time for people who are background characters? you have no idea how much space you take up in my life.”

your throat tightened. “max-”

“stop. let me finish.” his voice was quieter now, almost pained. “you think you’re nobody’s favorite? you’re mine. do you understand that? you are my favorite person to talk to. to be around. to come home to. nobody makes me feel like you do.”

you couldn’t breathe. his forehead pressed against yours. his voice dropped to a whisper. “if your family couldn’t see your worth, that’s their failure. not yours.”

then, even softer “i’d choose you a thousand times. and then a thousand more.”

you broke.

tears spilled before you could stop them. you tried to apologize, but max pulled you into him, tucking you against his chest, holding you like you were something fragile but treasured.

“it’s okay to cry baby,” he murmured into your hair. “let me be here for you. that’s what i want.” you cried until your breathing softened.

max never let go. not once.

months later at a race in austria, you’d flown in quietly, planning to surprise him, but the moment the red bull crew spotted you, they ushered you straight in.

“he’ll want to see you before the grid,” an engineer said with a knowing grin. you laughed, heat rushing to your face. “is it really that obvious?” 

“he’s unbearable when you’re not around,” another engineer added dryly. you blinked, startled and then you saw him.

max was finishing a media interview when his eyes flicked over the reporter’s shoulder and landed on you. his whole face changed. he didn’t smile big, max’s emotions were subtle, but the shift was unmistakable. his shoulders loosened. his eyes warmed. he looked like something in him unlocked.

he excused himself immediately, practically jogging over. “you’re here,” he breathed, cupping the back of your head as he kissed your temple. “you didn’t tell me.” “surprise.” 

he looked at you like you’d hung the stars and in that moment, it hit you with painful clarity. you were really his favorite. not because he said it. not because he gave you gifts or attention, but because he looked at you like coming back to you was the best part of winning.

“stay near the garage,” he told you, brushing a thumb over your cheekbone. “i’ll find you the second the race is over.” and he did.

he didn’t even take off his gloves before grabbing you, lifting you slightly off the ground as he hugged you full-body, helmet still in his other hand. you felt it then, truly felt it. that someone could love you loudly. that someone could choose you without hesitation. that you mattered enough to change the way someone moved through the world.

for the first time in your life, being loved didn’t feel like an accident. it felt like something you deserved.

another important moment in your life happened on a quiet night. just the two of you in his monaco apartment, curled together on the couch watching a movie neither of you were really paying attention to.

max was half-asleep, his head resting on your shoulder. you were running your fingers through his hair, feeling the warmth of him seep into you.

and you realized… this was the safest you had ever felt. the words came out before you could stop them.

“i love you,” you whispered.max went still.

for a terrifying moment, he didn’t react at all and then, slowly, he lifted his head to look at you. his hair was messy, his eyes heavy-lidded and soft, his expression open in a way that made your chest ache.

“could you say that again?” he murmured. “i love you,” you repeated, heart racing.

his smile was quiet and full and a little disbelieving, like the words meant more to him than you could understand. he touched your cheek, tracing your skin like he was memorizing it.

the house is finally quiet.

there’s a half-finished glass of wine on the coffee table, the tv humming in the background, and lando sitting next to you with that lazy grin that always shows up when he’s tired but happy.

“finally,” he sighs, dropping his head back against the couch. “i don’t think i’ve sat down in like… three days.”

you laugh softly, curling up next to him. “that’s what happens when you agree to be the lego race engineer and the bedtime story guy.”

he turns his head, eyes warm. “worth it, though. he made me a trophy out of cereal boxes today.”

“you deserve it, champ,” you tease, reaching up to brush a strand of hair off his forehead.

his smile softens, and for a second, it’s quiet again. that rare kind of stillness you’ve both been craving all week.

lando shifts closer, his hand resting at your waist. “missed you, y’know,” he murmurs, voice low.

“missed you too.”

and before you can say anything else, he tugs you gently onto his lap like it’s the most natural thing in the world. you let out a surprised laugh but stay there, arms looping around his neck.

“this your new version of sitting down?” you ask, trying to sound unimpressed but failing miserably when his fingers start tracing slow circles on your back.

“best seat in the house,” he says, grinning up at you.

you kiss him. just a quick one at first, then another, deeper this time. it’s been too long. too many early mornings, too many flights, too many “i’ll call you when i land”s. this feels like catching up.

his hand slides up your side, and you forget about the tv, the dishes, everything. it’s just him. warm, familiar, smiling into the kiss like he’s home.

you pull back slightly, out of breath but smiling. “we really should-”

and then you hear it.

“mum? dad? what are you doing?”

you jump so hard you nearly fall off his lap, your elbow knocking into the armrest. lando tries to catch you, both of you flailing for balance as your son stands in the doorway, clutching his stuffed dinosaur, squinting suspiciously.

“maxie!” you squeak, trying to smooth your hair and your dignity. “we, uh- we were just-”

lando cuts in, trying not to laugh. “hugging. we were hugging.”

your son max tilts his head. “with your mouths?”

lando loses it, his laugh muffled against your shoulder as you glare at him.

“it was a grown-up hug,” you say firmly, though your face is probably on fire. “shouldn’t you be asleep?”

“couldn’t find mr. dino,” he says, holding up the toy accusingly. “but i found him now.”

“great!” you say quickly. “so now you can go back to bed! i’ll sing a good night song for you then.”

he gives you a look like he knows something is up, but he just shrugs and shuffles back down the hall.

the moment his door clicks shut, you turn to lando, whispering fiercely, “we are never doing that again on the couch.”

he’s still laughing, eyes bright. “babe, that was so close. i thought we were about to get the birds and bees talk reversed on us.”

you smack his chest lightly, but you’re laughing too now. “you’re the worst.”

“you love me.”

“unfortunately,” you sigh, smiling as you settle back against him.

he kisses your forehead, still grinning. “next time, we wait until he’s in college.”

FLUFF

“you make it really hard to focus when you smile like that.”

“you can steal my hoodie anytime.”

“i didn’t mean to adopt it, it followed me home!”

“you make everything feel a little lighter.”

“you’re home now. that’s all that matters.”

"you get me in a way that no one else does."

"there’s no one i’d rather be with than you."

“you have the prettiest laugh i’ve ever heard.”

“you talk in your sleep. it’s kind of cute.”

“can i sleep in your bed tonight?”

“you were sad so i got you some of your favorite flowers.”

“you have no idea how easy it is to love you.”

"is it getting hot in here, or is it just you?"

“you’re lucky you’re cute.”

“you make ordinary things feel special.”

“you’re the best part of my day, every day.”

“you’re not too much, not for me.”

“you’re the only person who makes me forget to be guarded.”

“i was born to be yours.”

“have you ever been kissed on top of a ferris wheel?” 

"you made me believe in soulmates."

“you’re my favorite reason to stay.”

“you make my world quieter.”

"i don't need a perfect life, i only need you."

"every love song makes sense now.”

“you’re doing better than you think.”

"please let me make you happy."

"i wish i could freeze this moment and keep living in it."

“you have the confidence of someone who shouldn’t.”

“i would like my good morning kiss now.”

“that’s your plan? no, seriously?”

“you didn’t see that.” “oh, i definitely did.”

"found family means you don’t have to be blood to be home."

“you fell asleep on me again. not that i’m complaining.”

“stop apologizing, i like you exactly as you are.”

“what do you mean, you like me?”

"you drive me absolutely insane… and i think i like it."

“don’t go yet. just five more minutes.”

"you’re so pretty. it’s actually unfair. i’m mad at you now."

"if you asked me right now, i’d run away with you."

“i like the way you say my name.”

"i love you more than words can ever express."

“you don’t have to do anything special. just exist near me.”

“i didn’t think i’d ever find someone like you.”

“you’re still holding my hand.” “yeah, i know.”

“you make waking up worth it.”

“you make even the quiet moments feel magical.”

“i like the way your eyes find mine in a crowd.”

“you’ve got a heart i’d protect with my life.”

“you make it easy to believe in good things again.”

ANGST

“i wish i’d never met you. maybe then it wouldn’t hurt this much.”

“you don’t get to come back and act like nothing happened.”

“say something. anything. just don’t walk away.”

“you told me that you loved me. was that a lie too?”

"you were my mission. i was supposed to destroy you."

“you broke me in ways i didn’t know were possible.”

“i wish you’d never looked at me like that.”

“i’ve got you. you’re safe.”

“breathe. i’m right here.”

“i thought you were different.”

“every time i think i’m over you, you show up again.”

"you think you know everything about me? you don’t know a damn thing."

“it’s not fair that you get to move on and i don’t.”

“i can’t forget you, no matter how hard i try.”

“why does it still hurt?”

“you did your best. that’s all anyone could ask for.”

“i wish i could hate you, but i can’t.”

“you ruined me, and i let you.”

“i thought if i loved you enough, you’d stay.”

“you looked at me like i was a stranger.”

“you can’t keep pretending it didn’t mean anything.”

“i should’ve known better than to trust you.”

“i don’t know how to unlove you.”

“you kissed me like it was goodbye.”

“you chose silence when i needed you the most.”

“you turned me into someone i don’t recognize.”

“say that again. i dare you.”

“you said it would be different this time.”

“we were never meant to last, were we?”

“you made me believe in forever. that was cruel.”

“you said forever. you lied so easily.”

“i kept waiting for you to fight for me.”

“don’t look at me like you still care.”

“i gave you my heart, and you threw it away.”

“i don’t know how to let go of you.”

"you think i don’t care? i care too much. that’s the fucking problem."

"say that again, and i swear i won’t hold back this time."’

"i guess family dinners just got a lot more uncomfortable."

"don't cry. i hate it when you cry."

"i can't believe you'd do this to me."

“you keep pretending we’re fine. we’re not.”

“i don’t even recognize myself anymore.”

"why don't you love me?"

“you don’t get to miss me now.”

“you keep apologizing, but you never change.”

“you made me believe i was hard to love.”

"i see you're still wearing the necklace i gave you."

“i still check the door, hoping it’ll be you.”

“i was a choice. you were my world.”

"sometimes i wish that i never met you.

TENSION

“you’re infuriating.” “and yet you can’t stay away.”

“one of these days, you’re going to push me too far.”

“do you ever stop being annoying?” “not when it makes you smile like that.”

“you don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

“we’re supposed to hate each other, remember?”

"if you don’t kiss me again, i’m going to lose my mind."

“you like playing with fire, don’t you?”

“keep talking like that and see what happens.”

“you really think you can handle me?”

“you’re shaking.” “you’re too close.”

“you don’t scare me.” “then you’re not paying attention.”

"tell me you don’t feel this too, and i’ll walk away."

“you shouldn’t trust me.” “who said i do?”

“you think i won’t touch you?”

“one more word and i’ll show you what that tone gets you.”

“say my name like that again.”

“you keep pretending you don’t want this.”

“if you keep standing that close, i’m going to forget my limits.”

“that look in your eyes is going to get you in trouble.”

“you talk a lot for someone who’s losing control.”

“don’t move. i’m not done with you yet.”

“if i kiss you, we won’t stop there.”

“you should stop while you still can.”

“your heartbeat just gave you away.”

“you started this. i’m just finishing it.”

“you’re trembling. is that fear or anticipation?”

“you’re playing a dangerous game.”

“i could make you beg without saying a word.”

“don’t act like you’re not enjoying this.”

"we’re not doing this here!" “why not? scared you’ll like it?"

“you really want to see how far i’ll go?”

“you can’t keep playing this game forever.”

“if you wanted me to kiss you, you could’ve just said so."

“you keep looking at my mouth.”

“you like it when i get jealous.”

“you’re the only one who knows how to push my buttons like this.”

“you can’t hide what you’re feeling from me.”

“you can’t look at me like that and expect me to behave.”

"you think you’re in control here? how cute."

“you’re not as innocent as you pretend to be.”

“you keep testing me, and i’m running out of patience.”

“one wrong move, and i won’t hold back.”

“you’re dangerously close to crossing a line, and i kind of want you to.”

“you want me to lose control, don’t you?”

“i could make you fall apart right here.”

“you love this, don’t you?”

“don’t act like you don’t dream about this too.”

“you’re playing a game you can’t win.”

“you shouldn’t look at me like that in public.”

“one touch from you and i’ll lose it.”

DARK/TOXIC

“you should’ve run when you had the chance.”

“i’d burn the world before i let them touch you.”

“you don’t need saving. you need me.”

“this isn’t love, it’s possession.”

“i’d rather be your curse than watch you love someone else.”

“i’ll break every rule for you.”

“i’ll never let anyone else have what’s mine.”

“come out, come out, wherever you are.”

“you wanted a monster. now you’ve got one.”

“that didn’t stop you from calling out my name when the lights went out.”

“you were screaming too loud. i had to make it stop.”

"you belong to me. don’t forget that."

“i’d rather destroy you than let you go.”

“we only know how to destroy each other.”

“i could kill for you, and we both know i would.”

“we were built to destroy each other.”

"you looked me in the eye and swore you loved me. but you still let them take me."

“you make me want to do terrible things.”

“you’re mine. say it.”

“i can’t tell if i want to kiss you or kill you.”

"if anyone ever tries to take you from me, they won’t get out alive."

"you don’t get to disappear without telling me first."

"do you know how easy it was to get inside your house?"

“i warned you what i was capable of.”

“i’d kill for you. don’t make me prove it.”

"you're mine, and if you ever forget that, i'll remind you."

"do you think locking the door will stop me?"

"i could end this world, but i won’t. not as long as you’re still in it."

“you asked for honesty. this is it.”

“i warned you. i ruin everything i touch.”

“say you belong to me. or i’ll make you say it.”

“you’ll never escape me.”

“i’ll make sure no one else gets close enough to try.”

“you think you can leave? that’s cute.”

“i thought i told you not to text them anymore?”

“i’ll ruin anyone who tries to take you from me.”

“i don’t care what it costs.  i’ll keep you.”

“you don’t get to leave me. ever.”

“you’re the prettiest disaster i’ve ever made.”

“don’t pretend you don’t like being owned.”

“you keep saying i’m the monster. stop making me prove it.”

“i’ll never stop watching you.”

“i’m the reason no one else will ever love you right.”

“you’ll come back, you always do.”

“you looked scared when i said forever. why?”

“you could ask me for anything, and i’d give it. even my soul.”

“every time you run, i’ll find you faster.”

“you were never meant to be free.”

“i’d kill the world if it meant you’d smile.”

“you made me into this. don’t act surprised.”

the house was quiet. that kind of quiet that only happens when the day’s almost done and you’re both home at the same time. there was a half-folded pile of laundry on the couch, the blinds were letting in soft gold light, and somewhere in the background, the dishwasher hummed.

you’d spent the day running errands, cleaning, doing normal things. things that had nothing to do with racing or schedules or airports. just home things. you loved days like this.

max was in the home gym doing his workout for the day. you said you would join him, but you were already too tired after running around the whole day in the house. it was the best workout if you asked yourself. 

at the moment you were just laying on the couch with an iced coffee, scrolling on your phone and that’s when you found it.

a little instagram reel with the caption mini max. 

you tapped on it, and there he was. baby-faced, showing his sandwich and joking around with the italian presenter. and that grin. 

“oh my god,” you whispered to yourself, smiling so hard it hurt. “you’re so cute.”

you replayed it. once. twice. okay, maybe four times. every time you watched, you could feel your heart melt a little more.

it wasn’t just how young he looked. sure, he was really cute as a child, but it was that spark in his eyes. the one he still had sometimes, when he laughed or teased you or got excited about something small.

you were grinning like an idiot when a familiar voice came from behind you.

“what got you smiling like that, baby?”

you jumped slightly, fumbling your phone. “nothing!”

he laughed softly. “liar.”

“okay fine,” you said, turning the screen toward him. “you.”

“me?” max leaned in, squinting at the video. his eyes widened, and then he groaned.

“nooo, not that one. it’s so random” he said, dragging a hand down his face. “why do people keep posting that?”

you giggled. “because it’s adorable. look at you! you were showing off your food! you’re like, proud and shy at the same time.”

he looked at you, mock offended. “i’m not proud and shy now?”

“now you’re just… older. but still proud and shy,” you teased.

he rolled his eyes but smiled anyway, that little half-smile that always gave him away.

you put your phone down and stood, walking over to him. his shirt smelled like a mix of sweat and man, his hair was messy, and he looked so… real. you wrapped your arms around his waist, and he instantly pulled you close.

“sorry,” you mumbled into his chest. “it just makes me emotional. you’ve done so much, and seeing you like that… i don’t know. it makes me all mushy.”

“mushy?” he repeated, laughing softly.

“very mushy,” you confirmed.

he kissed the top of your head and rested his chin there. the room went quiet again. just you and him and the low hum of the dishwasher.

after a minute, he said quietly, “i think he’d be happy, you know.”

“who?” you asked.

“the kid in the video,” he said. “he’d be happy with how things turned out.”

your chest felt warm. “yeah?”

“yeah,” he said, brushing your hair away from your face. “he got to race and most importantly, he found you.”

you laughed softly. “that’s not fair, using sentimental stuff like that.”

he smiled, a little smug. “you started it.”

“maybe,” you said, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “but i’m finishing it. you’re still the cutest.”

he groaned, burying his face in your hair. “unbelievable.” you smiled against his chest.

oscar had always been good at pretending. 

smiles in press conferences, calm interviews, quick jokes that hid how heavy everything felt. but lately, it has been getting harder. the pressure was catching up. the noise, the headlines, the endless expectations that wrapped around him like static.

you noticed first. of course you did.

he used to nod at you across the paddock. small, polite, but real. lately, even that was gone. his shoulders stayed tense, his answers shorter, his eyes distant. he looked like he was carrying something too heavy for one person.

and you couldn’t really blame him. continuous pressure from the team, the public and himself. you know how that feels. being the only female driver on the grid wasn’t always a dance on roses. it never was really. 

so of course you understood him, but you wanted to do something for him to get his spark back since he was also beginning to lose himself a bit on the track and not just off it.

the first note wasn’t really planned, you told yourself. you found a small piece of paper during debrief and wrote without thinking.

“you’re doing amazing. you don’t need to prove your worth to anyone . it’s already proven, trust me.”

you slipped it into his driver room that night, tucked beneath his headset before returning to your hotel room after two training sessions.

the next morning, you saw him holding the note you wrote. he held it close like he was afraid it might disappear. for the first time in weeks, he smiled. small, barely there, but real.

but you noticed it. that was enough.

you made it a ritual. little notes hidden before each training session, sprint, qualifying and race weekends.

“you’’re not defined by a lap time.”

“always remember to be yourself. the real people see you for you.” 

“you make the paddock brighter just by being in it.”

it became your secret. quiet kindness, no credit, no expectations. you just hope that it helped him somehow.

and slowly, it did help him. 

oscar laughed again, he joked with lando, smiled at fans and genuinely seemed lighter somehow. like the noise didn’t reach him as easily. sometimes, though, you caught him glancing around the paddock, eyes soft and searching.

by the fifth race weekend after starting writing the notes, you almost got caught. you’d just left a note on his water bottle when a voice came from behind you. 

“did you forget something?”

your heart stopped as you turned. oscar stood there. helmet in hand, curious, eyes bright but tired.

you forced a laugh, waving your phone. “just- uh… looking for my agent. wrong garage.”

he smiled a little, enough to make your stomach flip. “happens to the best of us.”

you left before you could give yourself away.

after that, he started noticing you more. small glances during interviews. a nod after qualifying. once, when a reporter asked something invasive about being a female in a male dominated sport, he quietly cut in, redirecting the question without making it awkward for you.

he didn’t make a big deal of it. oscar never did. but it was gentle, protective, and it made something warm settle in your chest.

every time your eyes met, it felt like he knew. and that somehow made you nervous.

silverstone came and went. you finished third while george finished second and oscar finished first. in the cooldown room, you teased him lightly, and he shot you a grin that lingered longer than it should have.

george was smiling at the two of you, secretly loving the whole vibe between you and oscar. he knew about your little crush on the australian driver and quickly found out how you were writing him notes to make him feel better.

“that’s so romantic. i absolutely love it!” he had said to you. “you should definitely tell him. what a power couple you will be.” 

you blushed a bit at the statement. “i’d rather just stay silent.” he just rolled his eyes at you, already giving up.

after the race, you found a folded note sitting on your journal. 

“thank you. whoever you are. i think i know. and i’m really glad it’s you.”

you smiled so hard your cheeks ached.

the next weekend, you left one last note. after an argument with george about you being a hopeless romantic, you wrote your initials at the bottom of the note.

“for everything you’ve done, for how hard you try. i really see it, oscar. you’re enough. y/n”

you slipped it into his driver room before qualifying, your hands shaking a little.

by the time you came back later to your room after qualifying and the media, he was waiting. not with cameras or teammates. just him, leaning against the wall beside your room, holding your note in his hand.

when your eyes met, something inside you fluttered.

he walked over. calm, steady, but with that soft, knowing look. “so it really was you,” he said quietly. “all this time.”

you nodded, trying not to smile too much. “yeah. i just thought… maybe it would help.”

he looked down at the note again, then back at you. “it did. you really did help.” his voice gentled. “every time i wanted to give up, i found one of these. you have no idea how much it meant.”

you shrugged, a little shy. “i didn’t want you to feel alone. i know how it can get.”

oscar smiled. small, honest, a little crooked. god, you loved that smile. “i don’t feel alone, not anymore.”

there was a pause . warm, quiet, charged with something unspoken. he stepped closer, close enough that you could see the faint crease near his eyes when he smiled.

“can i ask something?” he said. “sure.”

he glanced at the note. “do you have someone leaving notes for you? the way you do for me?”

you laughed softly. “not really. i just try to be positive most of the time.”

he nodded once, thoughtful. then he tucked the note carefully into his pocket. “then maybe i’ll start leaving you some,” he said, voice low but warm. “seems fair.”

when he walked away, he glanced back once, just enough to make you grin. you realized it wasn’t just about the notes anymore.

you met max long before the world championships and the private jets. it wasn’t glamorous. just two teenagers at the age of sixteen who found each other at a race weekend when everything felt too loud. he was reserved, but still had something to prove. he was only there to win. that’s what his father always said. but then you attended one of the local races. you were somehow the one who made him feel calm for the first time in years.

it felt weird for him. just a normal conversation about life, not racing. he liked that. he liked you.

things happened fast after that meeting. love, life, races that blurred into hotel rooms and long goodbyes. when you found out you were pregnant at the age of twenty after four years together, max was terrified. not of you, but of himself, of failing at something bigger than any title. but he was there for every appointment, every sleepless night, every tiny heartbeat on the monitor.

their daughter was born during the off-season. december with snow outside. max held her like she was more precious than any trophy he’d ever touched. the media loved it. they called her the “paddock princess,” and max secretly loved that nickname.

as their daughter grew, the spotlight followed. cameras at airports, gossip online, fans debating whether she’d get her dad’s talent or your looks. you tried to give her a normal life, but normal doesn’t really exist when your dad is max verstappen.

and now she’s sixteen. brilliant, sharp-tongued, and trying to figure out who she is outside of his shadow. sometimes that means taking it out on the person who’s always there. you.

things look perfect from the outside. world championships, a house that feels too big when he’s away, and a daughter who’s growing up faster than you can catch up. the cameras still love your family, posting smiling photos at paddocks and podiums, but what they don’t see are the quiet moments in between. the missed dinners. the slammed doors. the way she’s inherited both her father’s stubbornness and your sharp heart.

and lately, it feels like every conversation turns into an argument.

it starts with voices echoing through the kitchen. there have been arguments all week between you and your teenage daughter who recently turned sixteen. it was small things piling up until they finally spilled over.

you’re standing by the counter, arms crossed, trying to keep your voice even.

“i’m not saying no just to be difficult. i’m saying no because i’m your mother.”

your daughter throws her hands up, frustration sharp in her tone.

“you always say that! you don’t even listen to me, you just decide everything for me!”

you take a breath, trying to keep calm. “because i care, sweetheart. that’s my job.” 

but the word sweetheart doesn’t land the way you mean it to. her jaw tightens, and before you can say anything else, she fires back. “maybe if you weren’t trying so hard to be perfect all the time, you’d notice you’re not even that good at being a mom!”

the silence after that feels louder than the shouting.

she storms off, the slam of her bedroom door echoing through the house. you don’t move for a long moment. just stare at the empty hallway, the sting of her words settling in your chest.

when you finally sit down at the table, your hands are trembling. you’re not sure if it’s anger, guilt or hurt. probably all three.

that’s when max finds you. he’s just gotten home, hoodie still up, keys in hand. the look on your face makes him drop them instantly. “hey,” he says softly, taking a seat beside you. “what happened?”

you shake your head, eyes fixed on the table. “just another argument… she thinks i’m a bad mom.” your voice breaks a little. “maybe she’s right.”

max’s brow furrows. “don’t say that.” he reaches for your hand, thumb brushing over your knuckles. “she’s angry. she’s a teenager. you’re both learning from each other, alright? that’s not bad parenting, that’s just love that’s still growing.”

you let out a quiet, shaky laugh. “feels more like failing.” he smiles. small and tired but sure. “you don’t fail at being her mom. you just keep showing up. that’s what makes you good at it.”

and somehow, that’s enough to make the ache in your chest ease, just a little.

later that night, max knocks softly on her bedroom door. “hey, can i come in?”

she shrugs, eyes glued to her phone, but he steps in anyway. for a moment, he doesn’t say anything. just sits down at the edge of her bed.

“you know,” he starts quietly, “your mom loves you more than anything.” she rolls her eyes. “i know.”

“do you?” he asks gently. “because i think if you did, you wouldn’t say things that hurt her that much.”

she looks up then, guilt flickering in her expression. “she just… doesn’t get me sometimes.”

“maybe,” max admits. “but she tries. every day. even when she’s tired, even when you’re mad at her, even when i’m not around that much. that’s not easy.”

silence settles between them. she fiddles with the edge of her sleeve, voice smaller now.

“i didn’t mean it. i just- i was mad.”

max smiles softly, putting a hand to her knee. “then tell her that.”

a few minutes later, she finds you in the living room. you’re doing some work on the computer. she sees you have a glass of water and some painkillers on the table beside you. she feels guilty. she never wanted to hurt you.

you really don’t expect her to say anything, but then she mumbles, “i’m sorry mom.” you immediately close your computer as you stand up, walking towards her. when you pull her into a hug, she doesn’t pull away. she holds on even tighter. 

later that night, the house is quiet again. the kind of quiet that feels softer this time, not heavy. she’s fallen asleep on the couch with a blanket half-slipped off her shoulders, the tv still playing some late-night tv game show in the background. you tuck the blanket around her, brushing a bit of hair from her face.

“love you, mom,” she mumbles, barely awake. “love you too, baby,” you whisper back.

you leave the tv on as you know your daughter finds it’s comfortable to listen to voices and some noise while going to sleep. 

in the bathroom, you did your skincare routine and afterwards brushed your teeth. you spotted max on the bed as you walked into the bedroom in one of his shirts that were too big for you. 

“there you are.” he said, smiling at you. “my beautiful, smart, hardworking and talented wife. the absolutely most wonderful mother of my daughter.” 

the words leaving his mouth, made you have tears in your eyes. you fell right into his strong embrace and he held you tightly. “i seriously don’t know what i’d do without you.” 

max didn’t answer immediately. he pressed his head on the top of yours. his lips kissed your temple multiple times. “you’ll never have to know either, liefje. i’m never leaving.” 

a few weeks later, the three of you are standing in the paddock. the sun’s bright, the air smells like rubber and champagne. max has just taken another win, and your daughter’s wearing his cap backwards, grinning so wide it almost hurts to look at.

she cheers as he sprays the bottle, and when the camera catches you both laughing, it’s genuine this time. no forced smiles, no pretending. just you, her, and him, caught somewhere between the noise and the calm.

for a second, it hits you with all the arguments, the slammed doors, the apologies. they were never about breaking apart. they were just part of growing together.and when max looks down from the podium, finds your eyes in the crowd, and mouths thank you, you think about how lucky you actually are to have the best husband and daughter in the world. you really love your little family so much and you’re so excited to be adding another member soon.

liked by lando, charles_leclerc, selenagomez and 7.284.872 others

youruser and maxverstappen1 growing our family tree. someone is excited to be a big sister! 💕

comments are limited

lando are we doing gender reveal parties or nah?

charles_leclerc i call dibs on baby cuddles!

alexandrasaintmleux i'm so happy for you omggg 🥰

lewishamilton huge congrats! i can’t wait to meet this little human

the garage was buzzing with celebration. the smell of champagne, the hum of engines, the clatter of helmets being removed. max had just crossed the finish line and was doing his cool-down lap, eyes focused but heart still racing from the win.

then, out of nowhere, something caught his eye as he looked up at the big screens around the circuit. you, his woman, were on the big screens. you were standing in the garage, trying not to jump up and down as you were grinning from ear to ear. for a second, he nearly forgot how to drive. the steering wheel wobbled in his hands and for a heartbeat, all he could think was “no way… is that really you?”

he thought you weren’t coming to the race, because you had been feeling sick lately, but there you were. beautiful as always and watching him win. he was only winning for you.

he shook his head, trying to stay professional as he slowed the car toward the pit exit. “oh my god, she really is here,” he muttered, laughter mixing with disbelief.

by the time he pulled into the pits, he was practically vibrating with excitement. mechanics and engineers froze for a second, unsure if he was about to explode or hug someone. and then he jumped out of the car, not even taking off his helmet, and practically ran towards you in the big crowd. 

there you were standing with the prettiest smile of them all. when he was close enough, you opened your arms, ready for a huge hug, but got surprised as max’s hands found your waist and lifted you over the barrier instead. your hands instinctively went to his shoulders.

“oh my god max. warn a woman” you said with a laugh as he put you down on the ground again with his arms still being around you. “please, you should warn me. i thought you were sick and then you were everywhere on those big screens. not that i’m complaining. you’re truly distracting.” he responded, bringing you even closer.

you smirked, tilting your head. “well… someone had to make your win even more memorable.” he shook his head, still laughing, eyes sparkling. “i don’t think anyone’s ever made me almost crash from excitement before… but you’re dangerously good at it.”

“just shut up and kiss me.” you whispered only for him to hear. “glady” he mumbled before crashing his lips into yours. you could feel all eyes on you, but in that moment it didn’t matter. he only mattered and vice versa.

the teasing started the second they pulled apart. someone from the team yelled something about “keeping it pg for tv,” and everyone burst out laughing. max didn’t even look up. he was still holding you, forehead resting against yours, a smile tugging at his lips.

“you hear them?” you murmured, trying not to laugh.

“don’t care,” he whispered back, brushing his thumb against your cheek. “they can talk all they want. i’ve already won.”

you rolled your eyes, grinning, but he wasn’t joking, not even a little. the cameras were everywhere, flashes going off like starlight, and he still didn’t move away. he looked at you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded.

when they finally dragged him away for the podium, he kept glancing over his shoulder, searching for you in the crowd until he found you again. same spot, same smile. his.

and then the anthem played. champagne sprayed. gold light and confetti filled the air. the whole circuit roared for him, but his eyes kept flicking down to where you stood. you, with your hands clasped over your heart and that look that said i’m so proud of you. and you really were so proud of him.

the crowd was screaming his name, but the only person he looked at was you. the cameras caught it. that soft smile that didn’t belong to the fans or the press or even the team. it belonged to you. only you.

when he finally climbed down from the podium with champagne still dripping from his hair, he didn’t go to the press area. he didn’t even stop for the team. he went straight for you once again.

the world was still loud, but it felt like silence between you. he wrapped his arms around you again, pulling you close enough that the rest of it, the cameras, the cheers, the teasing, all blurred out.

“you know,” he said, voice low, eyes soft, “i could win a thousand races… and none of it would ever feel like this.”

the argument wasn’t even that big. something stupid, really. something about him forgetting to text, or you forgetting to do something you said you would. just one of those little couple things that feels heavier than it should when you’re tired.

his voice wasn’t loud. max never really shouted. but your brain was already halfway back to a place it shouldn’t have to remember.

and then he lifted his hand. not to hit, not even to scare. just a quick gesture, frustration in motion.

and you flinched. everything froze.

the sound died in the air. your breath, his words, all gone.

max’s eyes went wide. that soft blue turning to shock, then something that looked a lot like heartbreak. his hand dropped instantly, like it burned him.

“hey, hey,” he said, voice low and careful, like talking to a wounded thing. “did you just- did you think i was-”

you shook your head before he could finish, but the tears were already pressing at the back of your eyes. “no, i know you wouldn’t. i know that, max. it’s just…” you swallow. “my ex- he wasn’t good to me. and sometimes my body just... forgets i’m not there anymore.”

silence again. but this time it wasn’t sharp. it was just… heavy.

max took a tiny step closer, slow enough that you could stop him if you wanted to.

you didn’t.

and then his arms were around you. gentle, solid, real. his hoodie smelled like clean cotton and the faintest hint of engine oil, and something in your chest cracked open just a little.

“you never have to be sorry for that,” he whispered against your hair. “you’re safe now, okay? i’d never let anything happen to you.”

you nodded against his chest, the tears finally spilling, soaking the front of his shirt.

his hand rubbed small circles on your back. grounding, steady. your hands now holdning onto his shoulders.

“you don’t have to unlearn it all at once,” he said. “we’ll take it slow.” you let out a shaky laugh. “we?”

he smiled into your hair. “yeah, we. we're a team liefje”

and when he pulled back just enough to look at you, the softness in his eyes made your heart ache in the best way.

you believed him.