#but with max he becomes the soft-hearted guy

[driftcompatiblesblog]

• according to travis beacham max is somewhere 8-9 years old. english bulldog live an average of 7-11 years. so max has about 1-2 years left to live. and this process can accelerate, because chuck died. imagine: max is gone. herc had lost the last thing that connected him to chuck. he never recovered from the loss of his son and now he has lost another family member. herc was left alone with his grief. i–

• it can also be assumed that herc gave chuck a dog for his 12th birthday (or 13th birthday, but i prefer the first option) before entering the academy (a year after the attack of scissure and the death of angela) in the hope of compensating for his absence

• also english bulldog have a friendly, patient, but stubborn nature. honestly i think young chuck was just like that. and that somewhere deep down this little boy is alive

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

No Words *ೃ༄

Summary: max defends his girlfriend and gets into trouble

𖤓 mv x reader ⋆｡°✩

𖤓 fluff + slight humour (iykyk) ⋆｡°✩

masterlist ☾☼

y/n had been a fan of formula one since she was a child. every parental figure in her life had been a fan of the sport, so it was natural and she got into it too. thankfully, it also made her realise very quickly in life that she wanted to work in the field of motorsports. she wasn't sure yet, and she was still working her way to getting into the sport, but it was a sure, clear path for her.

after meeting max, and falling in love with him, everything had changed. her family approved of the two of them, obviously, and so had his, though she hadn't cared much about jos' opinion. y/n made it clear in the beginning that she wanted to work in motorsports and she wanted to earn her place. she refused to let max talk her up or anything, because he was the kind of guy who would do just that for his girlfriend. max agreed, and promised to keep their relationship private for as long as she wanted.

it had taken her a few years. she bounced from indycar to motorgp to nascar and eventually made her way to f1 as a journalist. she had gained far more experience than she would've gotten if she had only focused on formula one, and she was confident in her abilities to finally be formula one.

max and her had stayed strong throughout, even if they kept their relationship private. she had met and become friends with daniel, lando, carlos, and all of max's friends. they often played padel together as well. mix the competitive spirits that max and she possessed, it was always fun.

after a year of being in formula one as a journalist, max and y/n had decided that it was time to stop hiding. they skipped the soft launch part, and jumped directly into the hard launch phase that left a lot of fans shook.

unfortunately, it also got her a lot of hate. y/n went from being one of the best journalists in f1 to one of the most hated ones for the same reasons that she was loved. the fans adored her because she was a woman of colour making a name for herself in such a sport, and that her parents had sacrificed a lot for her and she was making them proud. now, she was hated because her success became max's story and how he put in good words for her and how she was only with him for the money.

it broke her heart, but max was someone who had received a lot of hate before in his life, so he taught her all the ways to ignore the comments and focus on what she did best. it helped a great deal, but it also made her determined to prove that her career had nothing to do with max.

it was getting better, slowly and over time. max and y/n promised to never lose their temper on the comments. a lot of interviewers and fans had also asked the other drivers on the grid to comment on their relationship, asking if it was ethical for a journalist and a driver to date. but the other drivers always responded with the same thing, always saying how they've known max and y/n for a long time, and their relationship was no one else's business.

unfortunately, after a particularly hard race, max finally lost his cool.

"well, max, it's safe to say that this particular race of yours wasn't the best that you've performed. what do you have to say about that?"

"uh, nothing, really. we just didn't have the pace, and with some mistakes on my side, i lost a lot of points. but, i'm sure we can cover it up next race." max replied.

"you don't have to worry about us writing a bad article about you. your girlfriend and we will only be writing praises, don't you worry. the only difference would be that we won't take your hard earned money like she does," the interviewer laughed, nudging y/n.

the cameras were all focused on them, there were fans nearby, and other drivers. everyone was watching. it was live tv. the entire world was watching. the thick crowd of an audience had their gaze fixed on y/n, and all she could do in that moment was hang her head and try not to cry.

that's the moment max lost his cool. y/n was standing right there, and the interviewer had disrespected her on a very public platform.

"actually, my girlfriend will always tell me what i need to hear, whether it's good or bad. y/n y/l/n, a well known journalist, who is also standing right there with you, will write exactly what happened on track, because that's the part that she reports on. she made her own career, so fuck you for dismissing all of it." max bursted, before he stormed off.

the interviewer was spluttering, not sure how to react, but completely outraged as he forced the fia to take actions on max's outburst. y/n slipped away silently, needing to go back to max.

later on, the fia decided to punish max for using "language during the fia sunday press conference". their decision: obligation to accomplish some work of public interest.

later, an interviewer asked him if he regretted his decision of defending his girlfriend and getting a punishment, max responded, “no.”

“so, what do you think of the punishment given to you? do you think it’s fair?”

“no words.”

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

i hope you guys enjoyed this! i had a lot of fun writing this, mostly because i had no idea what my brain wanted me to write, but somehow i kept on typing. anyways, this is my prompt list, so y'all can select a number, give me a driver and i will write it as soon as possible! i also have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :)

[harrysfolklore]

BLURB ABOUT MAX BECOMING WORLD CHAMPION 😩

i wrote this in like 20 minutes it probably sucks but MAX IS THE WORLD CHAMPION AGAIN AND I LOVE HIM SM

Your hands are shaking as you watch the final laps unfold on the screens. Your fingers find the small "33" necklace he gave you years ago – before the switch to number 1, before the championships. Some habits die hard.

When Max finally crosses the line, the explosion of noise is deafening. GP's voice breaks with emotion: "MAX VERSTAPPEN, YOU ARE THE 2024 FORMULA ONE WORLD CHAMPION!"

"Fucking yes!" Max shouts over the radio. "Thank you so much, guys. This one��� this one was the hardest yet. I love you all!"

You're crying and laughing simultaneously as his car approaches.Max practically vaults over the barrier, nearly tripping over his own feet in excitement. "We fucking did it!" he yells, lifting you up and spinning you around. His race suit is soaked with sweat, but you couldn't care less.

"I never doubted you for a second," you say against his neck.

He pulls back, grinning. "Liar. You were freaking out after Singapore."

"Shut up and kiss me, World Champion."

He does, and you can feel him smiling against your lips. The photographers are having a field day, but this moment is yours.

After the media obligations, you find yourself in the back of a car with Max heading to the team party. The Vegas lights streak past the windows as he holds your hand, thumb absently tracing circles on your skin.

"You know what's funny?" he says quietly, the adrenaline from earlier settling into a softer contentment. "After Abu Dhabi 2021, I thought nothing could top that feeling. But this…" he brings your hand to his lips, "this one feels different."

"Because you had to fight harder for it?"

"Maybe. Or maybe because I know exactly what I want to do next." There's something in his voice you can't quite read, but before you can ask, the car pulls up to the Bellagio.

The party is in full swing when you arrive. The entire Red Bull garage has taken over one of the hotel's exclusive clubs, and someone (probably Daniel) has convinced the DJ to play "Super Max" for the third time. Max is immediately swept into the celebration, accepting drinks from every direction.

"To the four-time world champion!" someone raises a toast, and the room erupts in cheers.

You watch from nearby as Max does shots with his mechanics, his face flushed with happiness and alcohol. He keeps looking over at you every few minutes, that soft smile you love so much playing on his lips.

"He's been fidgety all day," Lando mentions, appearing beside you with two glasses of champagne. "More than usual race nerves."

Before you can respond, Max is pulling you onto the makeshift dance floor, attempting to spin you around despite his questionable coordination at this point.

"You're drunk," you laugh as he nearly trips over his own feet.

"I'm happy," he corrects, pressing his forehead against yours. "Dance with me?"

"Since when do you dance?"

"Since I'm four-time world champion and I can do whatever I want."

You're both laughing when he suddenly becomes serious, glancing around the room before taking your hand. "Come with me for a minute?"

He leads you away from the noise, out onto the terrace where the famous Bellagio fountains are creating their water symphony against the night sky. The air is cool for Vegas, and Max shrugs off his jacket to drape it over your shoulders.

"Max?"

He takes a deep breath, and you notice his hands are shaking slightly. Max Verstappen, who can handle a Formula 1 car at 320mph, is trembling.

"I had this whole thing planned," he starts, running a hand through his hair. "Was going to wait until we were back home, do it properly. But standing here now…" He reaches into his pocket, and your heart stops. "I've been carrying this around since Monaco. GP's been calling me an idiot for waiting so long, and he's probably right."

"Max…" your voice catches as he drops to one knee.

"You've been there through everything – the good races, the bad ones, all the championships. You understand this crazy life, and you make it better just by being in it. I love you more than racing, which if you know me, is saying something."

You're both laughing through tears now as he opens the small blue box, revealing a stunning ring that catches the light from the fountains.

"Will you marry me?"

"Yes," you manage to say through your tears. "Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!"

His hands are shaking as he slides the ring onto your finger, and when he stands, you throw your arms around his neck, kissing him deeply. Behind you, you hear the terrace doors burst open and cheering erupts – the entire team had apparently been watching through the glass.

"Finally!" Daniel shouts, leading the charge with champagne bottles. "I've been guarding that ring since Monaco!"

Max keeps you close as everyone surrounds you with congratulations, his arm firmly around your waist.

"I love you," Max whispers in your ear as the celebration continues around you. "Even if I needed four world championships to get the courage to ask."

You look up at him, at this man who can be so fierce on track but so gentle with you, and smile. "I love you too, World Champion. Always have, always will."

The party continues well into the night, but now it's a double celebration. You keep catching glimpses of your ring under the lights, still hardly believing this is real. Max hasn't let go of your hand, and every time someone offers congratulations, his proud smile grows bigger.

"You know what this means?" Charles says with a smirk, raising his glass. "We might actually have a chance next season while he's distracted with wedding planning."

"Keep dreaming, Leclerc," Max laughs, pulling you closer. "I'm just getting started."

[amirasainz]

Driver Reader x driver, where she shows up with her boyfriend for the first time and all the drivers are super protective. But her boyfriend is just someone normal.

Please and thank you♥️♥️♥️

Ahhh, so cute♡♡♡

Enjoy reading and send some requests

-xoxo, Babygirl 💋

The Boyfriend

Yn adjusted her Red Bull cap, glancing over her shoulder with a smile as she walked hand-in-hand with Tony. It wasn’t the first time she’d been to the paddock, of course—she was the youngest driver on the grid and had become a regular fixture in the F1 world. But this was the first time she’d brought her boyfriend, Tony, with her. Tony, a calm and level-headed veterinarian, was about as far from the chaotic world of motorsport as one could get. He was supportive, quiet, and always knew how to ground her when the pressure of racing got too intense.

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" Yn asked, glancing up at him. "I mean, it's kind of a circus in here."

Tony chuckled, squeezing her hand gently. "I'm fine, Yn. Honestly, you're more nervous than I am."

She laughed, the sound light and carefree. "You have no idea what you're in for. These guys… they act like I'm their little sister. They're going to be all over you."

As they approached the Red Bull garage, Yn spotted a few drivers milling about. Charles and Lando were chatting near the McLaren garage, but their conversation halted the second they saw Yn and Tony approaching. Both of them exchanged a glance, and then their eyes shifted to Tony.

"Here we go," Yn muttered under her breath, bracing herself for what was coming.

Lando was the first to approach, a wide grin on his face as he clapped his hands together. "Yn! And who do we have here?" His eyes flickered to Tony, and he looked him up and down like a detective trying to figure out a mystery. "This must be Tony, the famous boyfriend we’ve heard so much about."

Tony gave a polite smile, extending his hand. "Nice to meet you, Lando."

Lando shook his hand, his grin never fading but his eyes clearly sizing Tony up. "So... what do you do, Tony?"

"I'm a vet," Tony replied, meeting Lando's gaze with calm confidence.

"A vet?" Charles piped up, stepping closer. "Like... animals?"

Tony nodded. "Yep. Mostly dogs and cats, but I’ve worked with horses, too."

Charles blinked, as if trying to wrap his head around this very normal profession in their very not-normal world. "Huh. That’s... cool."

Yn rolled her eyes playfully, leaning into Tony. "Told you they’d act weird."

Before Tony could reply, Max walked over, his usual serious expression in place, though his eyes softened when he saw Yn. "Hey, Yn. Tony, right?"

Tony nodded, shaking Max’s hand. "Yeah, that’s me."

Max studied him for a moment, his arms crossed. "You treat Yn well?"

Yn groaned. "Max—"

But Tony smiled, unbothered. "I do my best."

Max nodded slowly, as if he were making a mental note. "Good." He turned to Yn, giving her a rare, small smile. "He seems solid."

"Solid?" Yn raised an eyebrow, amused. "He’s not a car, Max."

Max shrugged, unbothered. "Same concept."

As the group continued to chat, Daniel appeared, sunglasses perched on his head and his usual mischievous grin plastered across his face. "Oh, oh, oh! What do we have here? Yn and her mysterious vet boyfriend!" He walked up to Tony and threw an arm around his shoulder, like they were old friends. "So, Tony... tell me. How’s it feel dating an F1 driver?"

Tony chuckled, glancing at Yn. "Pretty amazing, honestly. I get to see her do what she loves."

Daniel’s grin widened. "Aww, you’re sweet. You’re one of the good ones, aren’t you?"

"Obviously," Yn interjected, giving Daniel a playful shove. "I wouldn’t date him if he wasn’t."

Tony, meanwhile, was taking it all in stride, answering the barrage of questions with ease. Yn watched him, her heart swelling with pride. He was so calm, so collected—completely unfazed by the whirlwind of personalities that surrounded him. And the way he looked at her, his eyes soft and full of love, made her feel like the luckiest person in the world.

As they moved through the paddock, the other drivers seemed to subtly check in on Tony. Fernando gave him a polite nod as they passed by, though Yn caught the slight smirk on Nando’s face when he saw Tony’s hand resting gently on her back. Even Lewis, ever the cool and composed champion, gave Tony a once-over when they crossed paths, offering a brief, “Nice to meet you, mate,” before flashing Yn a knowing smile.

The protective energy from the drivers was palpable, but none of them were over the top. They all seemed to recognize that Yn was happy, and that was what mattered most. Even when Valtteri walked by, eyeing the couple with his usual stoic expression, he paused just long enough to look Tony up and down.

"I approve," Valtteri said simply, giving a nod before continuing on his way.

Yn couldn’t help but laugh. "See? They’re ridiculous."

Tony smiled, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear in that gentle way he always did. "They care about you. That’s not ridiculous."

She sighed, leaning into his touch. "Yeah, they do. They’re like a bunch of overprotective big brothers."

As they reached the Red Bull garage, Yn began talking animatedly with one of the mechanics about the upcoming race, her hands flying through the air as she explained something technical. Tony stood by her side, watching her with quiet admiration. Without thinking, he reached out and took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

From a distance, Lando nudged Charles, nodding in their direction. "Look at them."

Charles followed his gaze, watching as Tony gently pushed Yn’s hair out of her face while she continued to talk. The way Tony handled her bag, carrying it without a second thought, and the way he listened so attentively—it was clear to everyone how much he adored her.

"They’re cute," Charles admitted with a small smile. "Really cute."

Lando grinned, crossing his arms. "Yeah, I guess he’s not so bad. If Yn’s happy, we’re happy, right?"

Max, overhearing their conversation, gave a rare, genuine smile. "Exactly."

As the day went on, the drivers slowly relaxed around Tony, realizing that there was no need to be overprotective. Tony wasn’t just some guy; he was someone who genuinely cared for Yn, who loved her with his whole heart. They could see it in the little things—the way he looked at her, the way he was always aware of her, making sure she was comfortable, happy, and safe.

By the time the paddock began to wind down for the evening, Yn and Tony were sitting together near the Red Bull motorhome, Yn’s head resting on Tony’s shoulder as they watched the last of the mechanics pack up.

"See?" Yn murmured, her eyes half-closed. "Told you they’d be protective."

Tony chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Yeah, but they mean well. They just love you."

Yn smiled, her heart warm. "Yeah, I know. But they’re gonna have to get used to the idea that I’m not their little sister forever."

Tony grinned. "Good luck with that."

Just then, George walked by, flashing them a thumbs-up. "You guys are adorable. Officially ship it."

Yn groaned, burying her face in Tony’s shoulder, and Tony just laughed. "Told you it’d be fine," he whispered.

And as they sat there, wrapped up in each other, Yn realized that he was right. Everything was more than fine—it was perfect.

[be4chywritez]

unbound | max verstappen

max verstappen x fem!reader

you get pregnant, and there is no doubt in your mind that it’s Max’s.

beachy’s masterlist 🐚

beachy’s prompt list🥥

You take a deep breath, sitting on the edge of the bathtub, staring at the tests. The seconds tick by slowly, each one a reminder of how this moment could change everything. Amanda, your assistant, leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching you closely.

"Okay, but does he know? Have you told Max?" Amanda’s voice cuts through the silence, and you feel your stomach knot up at the mention of his name.

You bite your lip, avoiding her gaze. "No... and I don’t plan on it. Not yet."

Amanda sighs. "You know that’s not going to fly. Especially with someone like Max. He’s not the kind of guy you can hide this from for long."

You feel the weight of her words but shrug it off. "I'll figure it out. Right now, I just... I need to know for sure."

You both fall silent as the timer hits zero. With shaky hands, you reach for the first test.

Amanda shifts beside you, clearly hesitant. “Before you look… have you thought about what you’re going to do if it’s positive? I mean… are you going to keep it?”

Her voice feels like a hammer against your already fragile state of mind. You swallow hard, eyes still glued to the test in your hand, the one that hasn’t yet revealed your fate.

Keep it? The question spins in your head, knocking against every other doubt you’ve been pushing aside. You hadn’t let yourself go that far in your thoughts—hadn’t let the possibility of becoming a mother really settle in. But deep down, despite the fear, there’s something else. Something you can’t quite name but it’s there, pulling you to this decision before you can even explain it to yourself.

“Yes,” you whisper, surprising yourself with the certainty in your voice. Amanda’s brows raise, but she doesn’t interrupt. “I don’t know why, but I just… I feel like I have to. I can’t explain it, but it’s like… this is happening for a reason.”

For the first time since you grabbed that handful of pregnancy tests, you let yourself exhale. The truth is, as much as the thought of raising a child alone terrifies you, there’s a small flicker of something new—a calm. You’d been feeling it for weeks. Alex had mentioned it, too, just the other night over dinner.

“There’s something different about you lately,” she’d said with a soft smile, her eyes flicking between you and Charles. “You seem more… grounded. Happier, even.”

At the time, you’d brushed it off. But now, that calmness makes sense. It wasn’t just work settling down or the comfort of being around friends. It was something else entirely.

Amanda is staring at you now, her skepticism softening into something more like understanding. “Okay,” she finally says. “But Max… What about him?”

Your heart tightens at the mention of his name. Max Verstappen. Memories of that night flood back, unbidden—the way the celebration bled into something deeper, something more intimate. You’d both been drinking, still riding the high of his podium finish, the afterparty spilling out into quieter spaces. You’d always felt that tension between you two, but you never acted on it, knowing how complicated it could get.

Especially since Max had just ended things with his girlfriend. You remember hearing it from Charles a few weeks earlier, and you couldn’t ignore how Max looked that night. A bit more reckless, a bit more vulnerable.

Maybe that’s why you hadn’t pushed him away when things escalated. You weren’t thinking about his ex or how raw it all was. For that brief moment, it felt like it was just the two of you, no strings attached.

But that moment didn’t stay in the past. Now it’s staring you right in the face.

Amanda raises an eyebrow, waiting for your response. You shake your head, avoiding her eyes. “I’m not telling him. Not yet. I don’t even know how to start.”

Amanda sighs, leaning back against the counter, arms crossed as if bracing herself for whatever’s next. “You can’t hide it forever, you know,” she says, her tone softer this time, but you can still hear the weight of her words.

“I know,” you mumble, eyes flicking between the tests. The seconds feel like hours, and you swear the air is thicker in the room. Your hand hovers over one of the tests, but you can’t bring yourself to flip it over just yet.

The fear gnaws at you, but there’s something else lurking just beneath the surface—something you haven’t let yourself fully acknowledge. It’s not just about Max or his recent breakup. It’s the deeper realization that everything in your life is about to shift.

You think about your career. How every fitting, every runway show, every photo shoot demands your undivided attention. And how, lately, it’s felt different. Less exciting. A sense of disconnect has settled in, like the passion that used to fuel you has been replaced by something quieter.

You’ve been more cautious, too. Alex had noticed that, even if she didn’t say it directly. She had joked that you were glowing, attributing it to stress-free work weeks. But in reality, you knew something was different. You just hadn’t wanted to admit it to yourself yet.

Amanda’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts. “If you’re serious about keeping it, you have to start thinking about what that means. For your career. For… everything.”

You finally reach for the first test, hands trembling as you turn it over. The small screen stares back at you, the two lines clear as day.

Pregnant.

Your breath catches in your throat, and your mind goes blank for a second. Amanda shifts beside you, leaning forward to peer at the result. You don’t need to look at her to know her expression—part concern, part disbelief, maybe a little bit of shock.

“Okay,” she says after a beat, letting out a long breath. “It’s real. So… now what?”

You can’t tear your eyes away from the test. “I don’t know.” It’s the only truth you can manage. The room feels too small, the weight of everything crashing down on you all at once.

Amanda stands up, moving toward the door as if sensing you need space. “Take your time. But we need to talk about this—especially if you’re not planning on telling Max right away.”

As soon as she leaves, the quiet settles in, and for the first time since you grabbed the tests, you let yourself think about him. Max. You can almost picture his face—how serious he gets before a race, his intense focus on the track. And that night, when everything between you shifted, the wall he kept up with everyone else had cracked, just a little.

But you’d been ignoring the other side of it. The fact that he’d just come out of a relationship. You didn’t let yourself think about how complicated it would make things, how fragile he might’ve been, how vulnerable. And now, here you are, carrying a secret he has no idea exists.

You press your hand to your stomach, the reality finally starting to sink in. You are pregnant. With Max’s child.

And you’re not sure what to do next.

A few days later, you’re back in your studio, standing in front of a team of designers. The hum of creativity fills the air, but today, your mind is scattered. You’re doing your best to stay focused, but every now and then, your hand absentmindedly drifts to your stomach.

“So, as we prepare for the upcoming show, I want us to think outside the box for the new collection,” you begin, scanning the room as your team listens attentively. Amanda is there too, arms crossed, her expression unreadable. She knows what’s going on beneath the surface, but for now, she keeps it to herself.

One of your lead designers, Jasmine, raises a hand. “Any particular direction you’re thinking of?”

You hesitate, the words sitting at the back of your throat. You hadn’t planned to go this route, but suddenly the idea feels right. Maybe it’s because the pregnancy is at the forefront of your mind. Or maybe it’s because designing has always been your way of processing things.

“I’ve been thinking…” you start, choosing your words carefully. “What if we explored a maternity line? Something that celebrates women at every stage, from expecting to post-pregnancy. Comfort and beauty, no matter the changes.”

The room goes quiet for a moment. You can almost see the gears turning in their heads as they process the idea. Jasmine looks intrigued. “A maternity collection. That’s… actually brilliant,” she says, and the others quickly chime in with nods and murmurs of agreement.

Amanda’s eyes flick toward you, but she doesn’t say anything. Only she knows the real reason you’re suggesting this. But for now, you focus on the work. It’s easier that way.

“We’ll workshop it,” you say, clearing your throat and moving the conversation forward. “But for now, let’s keep brainstorming. We’ll still need a core collection that fits within the show’s theme.”

As the meeting wraps up, you retreat to your office, sinking into your chair with a sigh of relief. For a moment, it feels like you’re back in control—like you’ve managed to keep everything balanced. But as the minutes tick by, the reality creeps in again.

You’re pregnant. And no matter how much you try to focus on work, it won’t change what’s happening.

Before you can dwell too long, your phone buzzes on the desk. A message from Charles.

Lunch with me and Alex today?

You stare at the screen for a moment, biting your lip. You’ve been

avoiding them. Ever since Alex pointed out how different you’ve been acting, you’ve been worried that spending too much time with them might give you away.

But Charles is persistent. You can already imagine him showing up at your office if you don’t respond.

Sure, you type back.

At lunch, the three of you sit outside at your favorite spot, the sun shining down on the café’s terrace. Alex leans forward, her eyes twinkling. “You seem busy lately. Is the new collection stressing you out?”

You force a smile, stirring your iced coffee. “You know how it is. Just a lot to manage.”

Charles tilts his head, a teasing grin on his face. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding us? We’ve barely seen you the past couple of weeks.”

You laugh it off, hoping they don’t notice how nervous you are. “I’ve just been focused on work. Things are… hectic.”

Alex narrows her eyes, studying you. “You’re different, though,” she says softly. “It’s not just work. You’ve been… calmer. Happier, even. Something’s going on.

Your heart skips a beat, but you keep your expression neutral. “What do you mean?”

Charles nudges her. “Let her breathe, Alex. She’s probably just—”

“No,” Alex interrupts, still watching you closely. “There’s something else. You’d tell us if something was up, right?”

You nod, trying to keep your cool. “Of course. But there’s nothing. I promise.”

She doesn’t look convinced, but before she can push further, your phone buzzes again. This time, it’s Max.

Hey, haven’t seen you in a while. You okay?

Your stomach flips. Of all the times for him to message you.

You quickly tuck your phone away, but not before Alex notices the look on your face. “Max?” she asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah,” you admit. “Just a quick text.”

Charles snorts, leaning back in his chair. “You and Max… I still can’t believe you two hooked up.”

“Charles,” Alex chides, but she’s smiling too.You roll your eyes, trying to brush it off. “It was just a one-time thing.”

Charles grins wider. “Sure it was.”

The days following your meeting with the design team become a blur of fittings, sketches, and late nights. Your life has always been busy, but now, every task feels ten times harder. The fatigue hits you in waves, leaving you drained before lunch, and the nausea is unpredictable, striking at the worst moments.

You’re at a photoshoot, trying to direct the models, when a sudden bout of dizziness hits. You steady yourself against the table, hoping no one notices, but Amanda’s sharp eyes catch you.

“You good?” she asks, her voice low enough so the others can’t hear.

You nod quickly, swallowing hard. “Yeah, just a bit light-headed. I didn’t eat much this morning.”

Amanda eyes you, clearly unconvinced, but before she can say more, one of the photographers calls your name. You straighten up, forcing a smile, and head back into the chaos of the shoot. But as you move around the studio, you can feel the weight of it all pressing down on you.

Later that afternoon, you retreat to your office, closing the door and sinking into your chair. You rest your hand on your stomach, feeling the subtle changes in your body. You’re not showing yet, but it won’t be long. The realization sends a wave of panic through you. You have no idea how you’re going to keep this up—how you’ll manage your work, your friends, and your pregnancy without something giving way.

Your phone buzzes on the desk, and you glance down to see a message from Alex.

Dinner tomorrow? We miss you.

You sigh. They’re getting suspicious, and you know it. You’ve been avoiding them, but you can’t keep this up forever. You type a quick reply agreeing to dinner, then toss your phone aside.

As the days pass, your work continues to pile up. Meetings, photoshoots, fittings—it never ends. Your team is buzzing with excitement over the maternity collection, and while part of you feels proud, there’s also an underlying anxiety. The very thing you’re designing for is the secret you’re desperately trying to keep hidden.

You’re in the middle of a meeting when another wave of nausea hits. You excuse yourself quickly, making a beeline for the bathroom. Once inside, you grip the sink, taking deep breaths to steady yourself.

The door creaks open, and Amanda steps in. “You okay?”

You nod, but it’s clear she doesn’t believe you. She waits a beat before asking, “Are you planning on telling anyone?”

You freeze, her question hanging heavy in the air. Amanda has been your rock through this, but you haven’t told anyone else. Not Alex, not Charles. And certainly not Max.

“I don’t know,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m just trying to figure it out.”

Amanda watches you for a moment before sighing. “You can’t keep this up forever, you know. People are going to start noticing.”

You know she’s right. The signs are already there. Alex is suspicious, Charles keeps asking if you’re okay, and the physical toll is getting harder to hide. But you’re not ready—not yet.

It’s late in the evening when you finally return home, exhaustion pulling at your every step. The weight of your secret is growing heavier with each passing day. As much as you’ve tried to push through, the reality of your situation is beginning to feel impossible to ignore.

You’re in the kitchen, preparing a cup of tea to unwind, when there’s a knock at the door. You freeze, unsure who it could be at this hour. The only person who comes by unannounced is—

The knock sounds again, louder this time, followed by a familiar voice. “It’s us! Open up!”

Alex.

You rush to the door, already knowing who’s on the other side. Sure enough, when you swing it open, Alex and Charles stand there, both wearing expressions of concern. Alex pushes past you, stepping into the hallway with Charles trailing behind her.

“You weren’t answering your phone,” Alex says, her arms crossed as she looks you over. “So, we decided to check in.”

You bite your lip, glancing at the unopened texts on your phone that you’d been ignoring all day. “Sorry, I’ve just been...busy.”

“Yeah, we figured,” Charles adds, rubbing the back of his neck. “But you’ve been acting weird for a while now. What’s going on?”

Alex walks over to the kitchen counter, leaning against it with her eyes fixed on you. “And don’t say it’s just work. You’ve been off. Charles and I have been worried.”

The concern in her voice stirs something inside you, and you feel the familiar pressure rising in your chest. You’ve been keeping this secret for weeks, but now, standing here with two of your closest friends staring at you, the weight of it all is unbearable.

You feel your heart race as you take a deep breath, trying to find the right words.

“I—I need to tell you both something,” you begin, your voice shaky.

Alex’s expression softens instantly, while Charles tilts his head, confused but attentive.

“What is it?” Alex asks gently.

You take another deep breath and close your eyes, forcing the words out before you can change your mind. “I’m...I’m pregnant.”

There’s a beat of silence, followed by a stunned look from both of them. Alex’s eyes widen, her mouth parting in shock. Charles, on the other hand, looks like he didn’t quite hear you correctly.

“You’re—pregnant?” he repeats, his voice full of disbelief.

You nod, your hands trembling slightly. “Yeah. I just found out a few weeks ago.”

Alex steps forward, her hand instinctively reaching for yours. “Oh my God...are you okay? How are you feeling?”

Her immediate concern almost undoes you, and you blink rapidly to keep the tears at bay. “I’m...I’m scared. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

Charles lets out a low whistle, running a hand through his hair. “Wow. I mean...wow. Does...does Max know?”

At the mention of Max’s name, you shake your head quickly. “No, he doesn’t. And I don’t want him to—not yet.”

Alex’s brows furrow. “But you’re going to tell him eventually, right?”

You hesitate, the uncertainty hanging in the air. “I don’t know,” you admit, your voice barely a whisper. “I don’t know if I can. He just got out of a relationship, and things are complicated.”

Charles shifts awkwardly from foot to foot, clearly unsure of what to say. “But...he’s the father, right?”

“Of course,” you reply quickly, your voice sharp. You sigh, feeling the tension in your body ease slightly. “It’s just...with everything that happened between him and his ex, I don’t want to make things worse. He’s been going through a lot.”

Alex squeezes your hand gently. “That doesn’t mean he shouldn’t know. He has a right to.”

You nod, but the idea of telling Max still feels too overwhelming, too complicated.

“I just...I need some time,” you say quietly. “I need to figure things out.”

Alex nods, her expression softening again. “Okay. We’re here for you, whatever you decide.”

Charles finally steps forward, his usual goofy grin gone. “Yeah, we’ve got your back. Whatever you need.”

You offer them both a small, grateful smile. “Thanks. I’m just trying to take it one day at a time.”

Alex hugs you, her arms wrapping tightly around your shoulders. “We’ll get through this together.”

You let out a shaky breath, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. You’re not alone in this anymore. Alex and Charles know now, and even though there are still so many unanswered questions—about Max, about the future—you finally feel like you can breathe.

The morning light filters through your studio windows as you sit at your desk, reviewing concept boards for your upcoming fashion show. You’ve tried to focus on work, pouring yourself into designs for your new maternity collection, but it’s hard to ignore the subtle changes in your body.

Your fingers hover over the designs, and despite how proud you are of the collection, you can’t shake the worry creeping up the back of your mind. Every day, the nausea comes in waves, the exhaustion more overwhelming than usual. The weight of the secret you’re carrying feels heavier with each passing moment, but for now, you have to keep it buried.

Amanda steps into the room, placing a cup of herbal tea on your desk. “Here,” she says, her eyes scanning your face. “You looked like you needed something soothing.”

“Thanks,” you murmur, taking a sip and letting the warmth calm your nerves. You hadn’t realized you were fidgeting until now.

You’ve been so careful at work, going through the motions of meetings, fittings, and shoots as if nothing is different. But Amanda’s keen observation skills—and the subtle way she’s been watching you—make you feel more exposed. You’re not sure how much longer you can keep this up.

As the day goes on, you notice whispers among the team. Little comments about how you seem “glowing” or how you’ve been calmer than usual. It’s innocent enough, but each time, your pulse races, worrying that someone is beginning to piece it together.

Later, during a meeting with your design team, you present the new maternity line. You speak confidently, knowing the collection is some of your best work, but a small voice inside you can’t help but feel nervous as you explain the inspiration behind it. One of your designers raises an eyebrow when you mention how the pieces will offer both comfort and style for women during all stages of pregnancy.

“Interesting choice,” one of the assistants remarks. “Are we expanding into maternity now?”

You force a smile, trying to keep your voice steady. “Yes. It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while. I want this collection to reflect the different phases of life, including motherhood.”

The team nods in approval, but you can feel the weight of their curiosity. As you finish the presentation, you excuse yourself from the meeting, heading to your office for a moment of quiet.

As soon as you close the door behind you, you slump into the chair, rubbing your temples. The anxiety is starting to wear on you, and keeping this secret feels more daunting with each passing day. You grab your phone and see a text from Alex, asking how you’re holding up.

Just as you’re about to respond, Amanda pokes her head in. “By the way, don’t forget about the event tonight.”

Your stomach drops. You’d almost forgotten. The event is a high-profile charity gala—a perfect storm for running into Max.

“Right... thanks for the reminder,” you say, trying to sound calm.

That evening, you arrive at the event, your oversized dress flowing elegantly as you step into the ballroom. The room is filled with the usual crowd—models, designers, athletes, and celebrities. You take a deep breath, hoping that blending in with the crowd will be enough to keep attention off you.

But as you make your way through the event, your eyes catch sight of someone across the room. Max.

He hasn’t noticed you yet, but the sight of him is enough to make your heart race. This is the first time you’ve seen him since... well, since everything.

He’s talking to a few people, his usual relaxed posture, but there’s something different in his expression—maybe from his recent breakup. Your breath hitches as you watch him for a moment longer before you turn to find Alex and Charles, hoping to stay out of Max’s line of sight.

But just as you turn to walk away, you hear a voice behind you.

“Hey.”

You freeze, knowing exactly who it is before you even turn around. Max stands there, his eyes scanning your face, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them.

You turn slowly, heart pounding as your eyes meet Max’s. For a moment, it feels like the rest of the room fades away, and it’s just the two of you standing there, an invisible tension hanging between you.

“Max,” you manage to say, your voice steady but your nerves buzzing beneath the surface. You hadn’t planned on speaking to him, not here, not like this. But now that he’s standing right in front of you, you don’t have a choice.

He looks... good. That familiar sharpness in his gaze is still there, but you can see the weight of something unsaid behind his eyes. It’s probably the breakup. Or at least, that’s what you tell yourself.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” he says, his tone neutral but tinged with curiosity. He looks you over quickly, taking in your outfit, but you’re thankful it hides enough that he wouldn’t notice anything off at first glance.

“I—yeah, I wasn’t sure if I’d come,” you say, forcing a small smile. “Work’s been crazy.”

He nods, but there’s a flicker of something in his expression, like he knows there’s more to the story. “I get it. Same for me. Trying to get back into the swing of things.”

You know he’s referring to his recent breakup, and for a brief second, guilt claws at you. He doesn’t know, and this would be the absolute worst moment to drop the bomb. Not at a public event, not in front of all these people. You can feel Alex and Charles watching you from across the room, their presence grounding you, reminding you that they know—but Max doesn’t. Not yet.

“Have you been all right?” he asks, his voice dropping a little lower, more sincere. “It feels like it’s been a while since we last... talked.”

The way he says “talked” holds so much more than the word itself. It brings back memories of the last time you saw him—when things between you had been anything but simple. The night you hooked up still lingers in your mind, the way it felt like something more, but you’d both walked away from it without a word about what it really meant.

“I’ve been fine,” you lie. “Just... busy. You know how it is.”

Max tilts his head, his eyes narrowing just a fraction. “Yeah, I do.”

There’s a pause, and the air between you feels heavier. You can tell he’s trying to read you, trying to figure out if something is wrong. And part of you wants to tell him. But you can’t. Not here.

Just as the tension starts to rise, someone brushes past you, pulling your attention away for a second. It’s Alex, making her way over with a casual smile that barely hides her concern.

“Hey, sorry to interrupt,” Alex says, glancing between you and Max. “I just wanted to steal her for a second.”

You can see Max's eyes flicker to Alex, then back to you. He steps back slightly, giving you space. “Of course,” he says, his voice clipped, though you can’t tell if it’s from irritation or something else.

“Catch up later?” he asks, his tone softening, and you nod, though your stomach twists at the thought.

“Yeah, sure,” you murmur, and with that, Alex gently pulls you aside.

As soon as you’re out of earshot, Alex leans in. “You okay?” she asks quietly, concern etched into her face. “I saw you two talking, and I wasn’t sure if you needed an out.”

You nod, feeling a wave of relief but also guilt. “Thanks for the save. I wasn’t ready to talk to him... not yet.”

“I figured,” Alex says, giving you a sympathetic look. “But he’s going to figure it out eventually.”

You know she’s right. The more you run into him, the harder it’s going to be to keep the secret. And after tonight, it’s clear that Max isn’t going to let things stay unresolved between you for much longer.

After Alex pulls you away, you take a moment to breathe, letting the tension drain from your body. But the thought of telling Max still lingers in the back of your mind. Maybe tonight was the right time after all. Maybe it’s time to stop hiding and face whatever comes next.

You glance back at him, half expecting to see him still standing where you left him. But instead, your breath catches in your throat.

Max isn’t alone anymore.

His ex stands beside him, her hand resting casually on his arm as she leans in to say something. He’s smiling, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. Still, it’s enough to make your heart sink. The sight of them together—so familiar, so comfortable—leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

Whatever you were about to tell him evaporates in an instant. The idea of burdening him with the news of your pregnancy feels impossible now. He’s clearly moved on, and you can’t bring yourself to pull him back into something so complicated, not when he’s just gotten out of a relationship.

You turn away quickly, trying to shake off the sudden wave of emotion. Alex notices and wraps a supportive arm around your shoulder, leading you away from the scene. “You did the right thing,” she says quietly. “It’s not the right time.”

You nod, swallowing hard. “Yeah. I know.”

But deep down, it doesn’t make it any easier.

The night of the fashion show arrives, and the energy backstage is electric. Models are rushing around, designers are making last-minute adjustments, and the press is already swarming outside. Your collection is the centerpiece of the show, and the maternity line is about to debut in front of some of the biggest names in the industry.

But despite the excitement, a familiar weight presses down on your chest. You’re nervous—not just about the show but about being in the spotlight while trying to hide your pregnancy. The oversized designs you’ll wear tonight should help conceal it, but you can’t shake the fear that someone will notice a change in you.

As you step out into the bright lights of the runway, you remind yourself to breathe. Focus on the work. Focus on the moment. You can do this.

The show goes off without a hitch. The audience loves the collection, and you manage to keep your composure throughout. But as you walk backstage after your final look, you can feel the pressure building again. You’ve made it through the night, but the reality of your situation is starting to catch up with you.

As the weeks pass, your body begins to show subtle signs of the life growing inside you. The small bump is barely noticeable, but to you, it’s impossible to ignore. The reality of your pregnancy is becoming more apparent each day, and with it, the pressure to step back from work mounts.

After another long week of trying to conceal the changes and fighting off fatigue, you make a decision—you need a break. The relentless cycle of photoshoots, meetings, and creative pressure is too much to handle while carrying a secret this big. So, with a heavy heart, you inform your team that you’ll be taking a leave of absence from both modeling and designing. It’s the first time in a long while that you’re putting yourself first, but it doesn’t feel like a relief. If anything, it makes the situation feel more real.

You spend the next few days quietly preparing for your time away, tying up loose ends and planning for what comes next. But even as you try to rest, the world keeps moving. One evening, as you sit on the couch scrolling through your phone, you receive a text from Alex.

Hey! How do you feel about coming with us to Vegas for the Grand Prix?

You deserve a break, and it’ll be fun! Plus, it’s cold—perfect for layering up and hiding that cute bump of yours 😉

You smile at her playful message. Alex always knows how to make you feel better, and despite your initial hesitation, the idea of going to Vegas for the race sounds like a good distraction.

I’ll think about it, but I’m not sure…

No excuses! Charles and I already have everything set. You need this, trust me. It’s going to be amazing.

After a bit of back and forth, you reluctantly agree. The timing couldn’t be better—Vegas would be a good place to get away from everything, and the cold weather gives you the perfect excuse to bundle up and hide the bump that’s starting to show. Maybe, just maybe, you can get through this without anyone noticing.

The Las Vegas Grand Prix is buzzing with energy when you arrive. The city is alive with lights, and the cold air nips at your skin as you step out of the car, pulling your oversized sweater tighter around yourself. You’ve layered your outfit perfectly—no one would suspect a thing.

As you make your way through the paddock with Charles and Alex, you do your best to remain inconspicuous, but it’s hard not to feel like you’re under a microscope. Max is here. You haven’t seen him since that fateful night at the gala, and even though you’ve done your best to avoid him, you know it’s only a matter of time before your paths cross again.

Sure enough, as you’re chatting with Alex near the Red Bull garage, you spot him out of the corner of your eye. He’s walking in your direction, his gaze sweeping across the crowd until it lands on you. For a brief moment, you think about turning away, but it’s too late.

“Hey,” Max says, stopping in front of you, his eyes scanning your face. “You look… really good.”

There’s an awkward pause as you search for something to say, but all you can manage is a quiet, “Thanks.” The tension between you is palpable, but before anything more can be said, Charles interrupts, pulling you away to meet some of the other drivers.

As the race time approaches, Alex notices you’re starting to look tired and pulls you aside. “Hey, why don’t you watch the race from Charles’ driver’s room? You can get some rest if you want. It’s warm in there, and no one will bother you.”

You hesitate, but the thought of escaping the chaos of the paddock for a few hours is too tempting to pass up. “Okay,” you agree. “But you stay here and enjoy the race. I’ll be fine.”

Alex gives you a soft smile. “I’ll come check on you after.”

The room is quiet, the hum of the crowd fading into the background as you settle onto the couch, finally able to relax. You didn’t realize how exhausted you were until now, the weight of everything catching up with you. Before you know it, you’ve drifted off to sleep, your hands instinctively resting on your bump as you doze.

After the race ends, Max heads to Charles’ driver’s room, searching for him. The door creaks open softly, and he freezes in his tracks at the sight in front of him.

There you are, fast asleep on the couch, your oversized sweater no longer hiding the soft curve of your belly. His eyes widen, his mind racing as the pieces start to fall into place. The realization hits him hard—this isn’t just a rumor or a secret anymore. You’re pregnant, and somehow, he knows deep down, it’s his.

Max stands frozen in the doorway, his heart racing as he stares at your sleeping form. The soft rise of your belly is undeniable now, and everything clicks into place in a way that feels almost too shocking to comprehend. His breath hitches, the noise startling you awake. You blink, disoriented for a moment, before your eyes land on him.

“Max?” you murmur, your voice groggy with sleep.

But the look on his face makes your heart drop.

“You’re pregnant,” he says flatly, his voice stripped of emotion.

You nod, unsure of what to say. The words you rehearsed, the explanations and apologies, all seem to disappear in the suffocating silence between you.

Max’s eyes narrow, a bitter chuckle escaping his lips. “And you weren’t planning on telling me, were you?”

“Max, I was going to—”

“When?” he interrupts, his tone sharp and cutting. “After the baby was born? Or maybe when the media started asking questions? Did you think I wouldn’t find out eventually?”

You swallow hard, feeling the lump in your throat grow larger by the second. “I didn’t know how to tell you… You just got out of a relationship. I didn’t want to make things more complicated.”

His jaw tightens, and he stares at you like he doesn’t even recognize you anymore. “More complicated?” His voice rises, incredulous. “You think hiding the fact that you’re carrying my child isn’t complicated enough?”

“I didn’t know how you’d react,” you say softly, your voice trembling. “I didn’t want to ruin everything.”

Max scoffs, his face twisted in disbelief. “Ruin everything? You already did. You made this decision for both of us without even giving me the chance to decide if I wanted to be involved.”

You feel your stomach drop. The look in his eyes is colder than you’ve ever seen, and the weight of his words hits you like a punch to the gut. “Max, please… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to happen like this.”

He takes a step closer, his voice low but laced with anger. “You didn’t mean for what to happen? To get pregnant or to keep it from me?”

You can’t meet his gaze. “Both,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

Max lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable.”

Tears sting your eyes, but you blink them away, refusing to let them fall. “Max, I didn’t want to hurt you. I thought… I thought I was doing the right thing by giving you space. I thought—”

“You thought wrong,” he snaps. “You didn’t give me a choice. You took that away from me.”

Your heart sinks further, and the lump in your throat makes it difficult to speak. “I know I should have told you sooner. But we can still figure this out. We can—”

Max cuts you off, his voice cold and detached. “No.”

The single word hangs in the air between you like a death sentence. Your eyes widen, and your chest tightens with panic. “What do you mean, no?”

“I’m not doing this,” Max says, his tone icy. “I’m not going to be part of something you kept from me. You made the choice to go through this alone—so you can finish it alone.”

You feel your breath hitch, your resolve faltering. “Max, please. You don’t mean that. You can’t just walk away.”

Max’s gaze is unwavering, hard as steel. “Watch me.”

The finality in his voice cuts through you, but you manage to keep your composure, standing your ground. “You don’t get to make this decision for me. This is our child.”

“I didn’t get a say in that!” he retorts, anger flashing in his eyes. “You’ve known all this time, and you’ve had the luxury of time to process it. I just found out, and now I’m supposed to act like everything’s fine? Like I haven’t been completely blindsided?”

You open your mouth to argue, but the words catch in your throat. You can see the hurt and betrayal etched across his face, and it pierces you deeper than any insult.

“Max, this isn’t just about you. I was scared. I didn’t know how you’d react, and I didn’t want to complicate things more, especially after your breakup.”

“Maybe I wanted to be a part of this!” he yells, frustration seeping into every word. “But you made it clear that I’m not. You decided that all by yourself.”

A heavy silence hangs between you, thick with unspoken emotions. You take a breath, steeling yourself, but he’s not done.

“Do you even realize how selfish that is?” Max shakes his head, disbelief written all over his face. “You think you can just decide what’s best for me without even asking?”

“I thought I was protecting you!” you reply, your voice firm despite the tremor underneath. “This is hard for me too, Max. I didn’t want to burden you with something I didn’t know how to handle myself.”

Max’s expression hardens, the anger in his eyes morphing into something colder. “You don’t get to choose what I can and can’t handle. I’m not a child, and this is not just your life. This is our child we’re talking about.”

The tension in the air is palpable, and you take a step back, feeling the weight of the moment bearing down on you.

“What happens now?” you ask quietly, almost pleading for some kind of understanding.

Max crosses his arms, his posture defensive. “You’re the one who made this choice. You can raise our kid alone if that’s what you want.”

“Max, I never wanted that!” you insist, desperation creeping into your voice. “I thought we could figure this out together.”

He shakes his head, disappointment flooding his features. “I can’t be part of something you hid from me. I won’t. It’s too late for that.”

You feel a chill wash over you as the finality of his words sinks in. “You’re just going to walk away?”

“I’m not walking away,” he replies, his voice now steady, devoid of any emotion. “I’m choosing not to be involved in something I didn’t even know was happening. You’ve made that choice for me.”

With that, he turns, heading for the door. The sight of him walking away feels like a knife to your heart, but you refuse to let your emotions spill over. You hold your ground, your expression steeling.

“Max,” you call out, but he doesn’t look back.

The door clicks softly behind him as he leaves Charles’ driver’s room, leaving you alone with the echoes of his rejection. You stare at the space he once occupied, your hand drifting instinctively to your stomach. There’s no sobbing, no collapse of emotion—just a stillness, a numb realization of where you stand.

You wish you could cry. Somehow, the tears refuse to fall.

The quiet is almost suffocating, pressing against your skin like the cold air outside. Max’s anger had been expected, but the way he looked at you—the coldness in his eyes as he dismissed not just you, but the life growing inside you—had cut deeper than you anticipated.

You rub your hand absentmindedly over the soft curve of your belly, feeling that strange mixture of loss and strength. I can do this. You’ve been on your own before, and now, it’s not just about you.

You stand, smoothing down your oversized sweater, and move to gather your things. As you slip into the hallway, your phone buzzes in your pocket.

Alex: We’re coming over.

You almost don’t want to see them, but the truth is, you need them now more than ever. Alex and Charles have always been your safe space, and tonight, that space feels smaller, more fragile. But it’s still there.

Half an hour later, the knock at your door is soft but insistent. You open it to find Alex standing there with Charles just behind her. Her face is a mix of worry and expectation.

“We came as fast as we could,” Alex says, pulling you into a gentle hug before you can speak.

You smile faintly at their concern, the warmth of Alex’s embrace easing some of the weight on your chest. Charles steps inside, eyes scanning your face as if searching for clues to what happened.

“You okay?” he asks quietly, his brow furrowed.

You nod, but it’s not convincing. “I told Max,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

They both stiffen at your words. Alex exchanges a glance with Charles before guiding you to sit down on the couch. “And?” she presses gently.

You hesitate, fingers tracing the seam of your sweater as you exhale slowly. “He doesn’t want to be part of it.”

There’s a long, heavy silence. The tension in the room shifts as Alex sits beside you, her hand finding yours, squeezing it tightly. Charles crosses his arms, looking frustrated but holding back his words.

“He’ll come around,” Alex says softly. “He’s just… dealing with a lot right now.”

You shake your head, the words not offering much comfort. “No, I don’t think he will. He was clear, Alex. He… he said I should’ve told him sooner, but—” You stop, biting your lip as the frustration rises. “I thought I was doing the right thing, keeping it from him. He just got out of a relationship; the last thing he needed was this.”

Charles leans against the wall, arms still crossed, his expression unreadable. Finally, he speaks. “Max is an idiot. He’s got his head so far up his ass, he can’t see what’s right in front of him.”

You let out a dry laugh, but it’s tinged with sadness. “Yeah, well, it’s not like I expected him to be thrilled.”

“Still doesn’t make it okay,” Alex adds. “You don’t deserve that.”

Your heart swells with gratitude for them. They’re not sugarcoating anything or trying to fix what’s broken. They’re just here, and in that, you find comfort.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now,” you admit quietly, your hand resting protectively on your bump. “I wasn’t ready for any of this, and now… it’s just me.”

Alex’s gaze softens. “You’re not alone. Not by a long shot.”

Charles moves to sit beside you, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder. “Whatever happens, you’ve got us. And you’re going to be an amazing mom. Max… he’s missing out.”

You smile through the heaviness in your chest. “Thanks. I needed that.”

For a moment, you sit there in silence, the three of you. The conversation shifts to lighter topics—Alex telling you about some ridiculous thing Charles did last week, the upcoming races, and work. It’s grounding, reminding you that despite everything, there are pieces of your life that still make sense..

Max sat on his couch, his eyes staring blankly at the TV, the sound barely registering. His mind kept drifting back to the race, and more than that—to her. The image of her asleep in Charles’ driver’s room, her hand protectively resting over the curve of her belly, haunted him.

He sighed, rubbing his face, trying to shake the thoughts away. He didn’t want to think about it, about her, or about the decision he’d made.

But before he could fully retreat into his thoughts, there was a knock on his door.

Max frowned, standing up and crossing the room to answer it. When he opened the door, he found Charles standing there, his face hard with barely concealed anger.

“Can I come in?” Charles asked, his voice tight.

Max stepped aside, already knowing this wasn’t going to be a casual conversation.

Charles didn’t waste any time once the door was shut behind him. “What the hell are you doing?”

Max blinked, taken aback by the intensity in his friend’s voice. “What are you talking about?”

“You know damn well what I’m talking about,” Charles snapped, his arms crossing over his chest. “She told you about the baby, and you just walked away?”

Max’s jaw tightened. “I didn’t walk away. I told her how I felt.”

Charles scoffed. “You didn’t tell her how you felt. You pushed her away because you were scared.”

“Scared?” Max repeated, a bitter laugh escaping him. “I’m not scared, Charles. She kept it from me for months. How am I supposed to feel about that?”

Charles stepped closer, his eyes blazing. “You’re supposed to care, Max! She’s pregnant with your child. You don’t get to just check out because it’s inconvenient for you.”

Max clenched his fists at his sides, the frustration rising. “It’s not that simple.”

“Yes, it is.” Charles’ voice softened, but his words were firm. “You’re making it complicated because you don’t want to deal with it. But she’s doing this alone. She’s carrying your son.”

Max froze at the last word, his eyes snapping up to meet Charles’. “Son?”

Charles nodded, his gaze steady. “Yeah. She found out a few days ago. And you should’ve been there.”

Max stared at him, his thoughts spinning. A son. He didn’t even know it was a boy. And the weight of that hit him harder than he expected.

Charles’s expression softened, his eyes filled with understanding. “I know exactly why you walked away.”

Max tensed, his heart pounding in his chest. “What are you talking about?”

“I know why you’re scared, Max,” Charles said quietly. “Because of him. Because of what Jos was like when you were growing up. You think if you stick around, you’ll turn out just like him.”

Max’s eyes flickered with surprise, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. Charles could see the truth in his silence.

“I know you don’t talk about it, and I don’t need the details,” Charles continued, stepping closer. “But I’ve seen how hard he was on you. I’ve seen how you shut down when people talk about family, about fathers. You’re scared that if you stay, you’ll mess up the way he did.”

Max stared down at the floor, his heart pounding. “He made my life hell, Charles. Every mistake I made, he made sure I knew. He made me feel like I wasn’t good enough… like I’d never be good enough.”

Charles watched him closely, his voice soft but firm. “But that’s not who you are, Max. You’re not him. You know what not to do. That’s what makes you different.”

Max swallowed hard, his throat tight. “What if I’m worse?”

Charles sighed, shaking his head. “You won’t be. I’ve seen you with kids, with your nieces and nephews. You’re good with them, whether you believe it or not. You’re not going to be him, Max. But if you walk away now, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”

Max didn’t respond for a long moment. The fear, the guilt, it all weighed so heavily on him, and yet Charles was right. He wasn’t his father. He didn’t have to be.

“I don’t know what to do,” Max finally whispered.

“You start by being there,” Charles said simply. “That’s it. You show up. Everything else will fall into place.”

“You’re going to regret it if you don’t step up,” Charles said quietly. “She’s stronger than you think, but she shouldn’t have to do this alone.”

Max didn’t say anything as Charles left, the door closing softly behind him. But the words stayed with him, even after the silence returned to the apartment.

Work had always been your way of coping. And now, it was a necessity. You threw yourself into finishing the pregnancy collection, meticulously crafting each piece to enhance the models’ natural beauty. The collection was personal—more than anyone realized—and every design was a tribute to the future you were about to step into.

The name you’d chosen for the collection, Adrie, was a secret only you and Alex knew. No one else had any idea that it was named after your son, a silent tribute to the life growing inside you.

As the final touches were made, you found moments of joy. Your appointments with Alex were always a reminder of what was coming. Finding out you were having a boy brought a strange sense of peace, even as your relationship with Max remained broken.

Now, the fashion show was finally here.

The runway was alive with excitement as your models strutted down the catwalk, each wearing pieces that reflected a new chapter in your creative journey. The audience was captivated—every detail, every design, was met with applause. But as you watched from backstage, your heart pounded for a different reason.

You spotted him. Max. He was here.

He sat in the audience, his expression unreadable, but you could feel the weight of his gaze on you. You hadn’t seen him since Monaco, since he walked out of Charles’ driver’s room without a second glance. And now, he was here, watching.

Your stomach churned, the slight bump beneath your dress making you feel more vulnerable than ever. You could have asked Alex if she knew he was coming, but there was no point now.

The show reached its peak, and it was time for you to take your final bow. You stepped out onto the runway, your face composed, your smile professional. The applause was deafening, and yet, all you could feel was the knot in your chest as you avoided looking directly at Max.

Don’t look at him. Don’t let him see.

But you could feel him. You felt his eyes on you the entire time. The weight of his presence was inescapable, but you held your head high, walking the length of the runway with grace.

Once you were backstage, the relief was instant. You’d done it. You had survived.

But before you could catch your breath, a voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Hey.”

You turned slowly, already knowing who it was. Max stood there, holding a bouquet of flowers in his hands. His expression was softer than you’d seen in weeks, but you didn’t let yourself fall into the trap of believing it meant anything.

“I thought you did amazing,” he said, stepping closer. “The collection… it’s beautiful… you’re beautiful.”

You forced a polite smile, taking the flowers from him. “Thanks.”

But you didn’t say anything else. You couldn’t. Not yet.

Max seemed to hesitate, like he was searching for the right words. “Can we talk?”

Max’s voice hung in the air between you, and for a moment, you hesitated. The flowers in your hands felt heavier than they should, and the weight of the past few weeks pressed down on your chest.

You nodded, keeping your expression neutral. “Okay.”

Max gestured toward a quieter part of the backstage area, away from the bustling crowd of designers and models celebrating the show’s success. You followed, your heart pounding in your ears as you prepared for whatever he had to say.

Once you were alone, he turned to face you, his eyes searching yours for something. But you didn’t give anything away. You couldn’t.

“I’ve been thinking,” Max started, his voice low, almost hesitant. “About everything.”

You folded your arms over your chest, waiting. You weren’t sure where this was going, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to know.

“I reacted… badly, at the Grand Prix,” Max admitted. “I was angry, and I said things I didn’t mean.”

You raised an eyebrow, keeping your voice steady. “You made it pretty clear how you felt, Max.”

“I know,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “But I wasn’t thinking straight. I was… scared.”

“Scared?” you repeated, incredulous. “Of what?”

Max looked away for a moment, his jaw tightening. “Of being a father. Of screwing everything up.”

Your heart clenched at his words, but you forced yourself to stay calm. “Why would you think that?”

“Because of him,” Max said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Because of Jos.”

The mention of his father made your heart soften, if only a little. You knew about Max’s complicated relationship with his father—how Jos had pushed him relentlessly, made him feel like he was never enough. But this wasn’t about Jos. This was about the baby.

“You’re not him, Max,” you said quietly.

He shook his head, his eyes filled with doubt. “What if I am? What if I end up doing everything wrong, just like he did?”

“You won’t,” you insisted. “You’re not him. You’ve already proven that by caring enough to be scared in the first place.”

Max stared at you, the vulnerability in his eyes catching you off guard. This wasn’t the Max you were used to seeing—the confident, untouchable racer who never let anything faze him. This was a man who was terrified of repeating his father’s mistakes.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” he admitted.

You swallowed, feeling the weight of his words settle into your chest. “Then why are you here, Max?”

“Because I want to try,” he said softly. “I don’t want to walk away from this. From you. From… our son.”

The word hung between you, raw and real.

You took a deep breath, your heart aching. “I can’t do this alone, Max.”

“I know,” he said, stepping closer. “And I don’t want you to. But I need you to believe me when I say I’m going to try. I just… I need time to figure this out.”

You reach a hand out hesitantly, before reaching his for his hand, you thumb pads over his calloused palms, you place his hand on your stomach, “His name is Adrie Emillian Verstappen,” you whisper.

Max’s eyes widened as his hand rested on your small, growing bump. The warmth of your skin beneath his palm sent a shiver down his spine, and for the first time, it all felt real. The name—Adrie Emillian Verstappen—echoed in his mind, grounding him in a way nothing else had before.

“Adrie…” he murmured, the name foreign on his tongue but already carrying so much weight. His thumb brushed gently across your belly, and for a moment, it was just the two of you—no racing, no fear, just this life between you both.

You watched his expression closely, unsure of what to expect. This was the most vulnerable you’d ever seen him, and it made you both hopeful and terrified at the same time. But you couldn’t afford to let your guard down just yet.

“You need to understand something, Max,” you said softly, breaking the silence. “I’ve been doing this alone for months. I’ve been preparing myself for the possibility that you wouldn’t be there—because you made it clear at the Grand Prix that you didn’t want to be.”

Max flinched at the reminder, his guilt palpable.

“And now you’re saying you want to try,” you continued, your voice steady. “But trying isn’t enough. I need to know that you’re in this for the long haul, that you’re not going to back out the moment it gets hard.”

Max’s jaw tightened, his hand still resting on your stomach. “I won’t walk away again. I swear, I won’t.”

You searched his face for any sign of doubt, but all you saw was sincerity. He looked terrified, yes, but also determined. You wanted to believe him, you wanted to trust that he would follow through on his promise—but the fear of getting hurt again lingered.

“I want to believe you,” you whispered, your voice cracking slightly. “But you’ve hurt me, Max. You’ve hurt me more than you realize.”

Max’s expression crumpled, the weight of your words hitting him hard. “I know… and I’m sorry. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if that’s what it takes. I just… I can’t lose this. I can’t lose you.”

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away, determined to stay strong. This was about more than just the two of you now—this was about your son, about the life you were about to bring into the world.

“You don’t have to do this perfectly, Max,” you said, your voice softening. “You just have to be here. That’s all I need.”

Max nodded, his hand pressing more firmly against your bump. “I’m here. I promise, I’m here.”

For the first time in weeks, the tension between you began to ease. You weren’t naive enough to believe that everything was suddenly fixed—that there wouldn’t be more challenges ahead. But for now, this moment felt like the first step toward something better.

As Max stood there, his hand still on your stomach, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, he was telling the truth. Maybe he really would stay.

Because this wasn’t just about you anymore. It was about Adrie.

And for him, you would fight to make this work.

The following weeks settled into a rhythm, with Max becoming a regular part of your daily life. He started attending your doctor’s appointments, always arriving on time, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Sometimes, people mistook the two of you for a couple, and while it felt awkward at first, you quickly learned to brush it off. There were bigger things to focus on—like preparing for the baby.

“Your husband’s got a great bedside manner,” one of the nurses had said during your most recent appointment, and you’d simply smiled, glancing at Max, who didn’t bother to correct her either. Neither of you needed to explain what you were to anyone else.

Max moving in felt just as natural, though unspoken. One day, after another doctor’s visit, he casually mentioned that it would make more sense if he stayed with you, at least until the baby came. You hadn’t objected, and before you knew it, Max’s things were scattered around your apartment—his shoes by the door, his jacket hanging on your chair, and his presence… well, it made things feel a little less lonely.

The ultrasound technician turned to you with a warm smile as she spread the gel over your bump, your eyes glued to the monitor. Max’s hand, as always, was resting on your shoulder, his thumb absently tracing comforting circles on your skin.

“There he is,” the technician said, pointing at the screen where your son’s form appeared.

Max’s grip tightened ever so slightly, his gaze softening as he watched the baby move. “Adrie…” he murmured, the name that still felt so new but so right slipping from his lips

later that evening, Alex and Charles invited you to dinner at a nice restaurant by the ocean..

“You know,” Alex began, poking at her salad, “Max is really stepping up. It’s nice to see.”

Charles leaned back in his chair, glancing at Max and you, sitting across from him. “Yeah, you’re practically a family already.”

The air went a little still, and you felt your cheeks warm, though you quickly masked it with a casual smile. “We’re just doing what’s best for Adrie. That’s all.”

Max, seated beside you, stayed quiet but gave a small nod of agreement. He didn’t seem bothered by the comment, but there was an unspoken understanding between the two of you that things weren’t as simple as everyone else assumed.

Alex and Charles exchanged another look—one that said they weren’t buying your explanation, but thankfully, they let it slide. The evening continued with light conversation and laughter, but every now and then, Alex’s eyes would drift toward you and Max, her knowing smile never far behind.

Dinner had gone well enough. That is, until you ran into Max’s ex-girlfriend.

The instant her eyes landed on you, her polite smile shifted to something sharper, something filled with disdain. The glance she gave your bump—barely noticeable beneath your loose dress—felt like a dagger, and you couldn’t shake the feeling of being… less than.

She was flawless. Tall, sleek, the picture of everything you weren’t right now.

You tried to smile through it, act like the growing tightness in your chest didn’t bother you. But the look on her face as she spoke to Max, dripping in casual familiarity, gnawed at the edges of your confidence. Her tone was light, as if to remind you that she and Max had a history, while you were merely the woman carrying his child.

When she finally left, you could breathe again, but the damage was done. The rest of the evening was a blur of polite conversation, your responses automatic. Max noticed, of course—he always did—but you shrugged off his concern, plastering on a fake smile until you got home.

Once back at the apartment, Max followed close behind you, his presence a silent comfort. But the tension between you both had shifted, the air thick with something unspoken.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft as he stepped closer. You could see the concern in his eyes, and that made it worse. You hated how vulnerable you felt, hated how the ex had made you feel small.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you replied, your voice a little too quick. “I’m just tired.”

Max didn’t believe you. You could tell by the way he kept watching you, his eyes studying your face, your movements. But he didn’t press. Instead, he nodded, giving you space as he retreated to his own room.

You lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, frustration swirling in your chest. Why did you let her get to you? Why did you care? But it was more than that. It was your body. You hadn’t felt like yourself in months. Your bump had grown, your clothes fit differently, and while you knew you were supposed to love the process, part of you felt disconnected, like you weren’t in control of your own body anymore.

Sleep wouldn’t come. Not with the weight of everything pressing down on you. So you slipped out of bed, pulling on a pair of shorts and a tank top, padding softly to the kitchen for a glass of water.

And that’s when you saw him.

Max stood by the counter, shirtless, looking like he hadn’t been able to sleep either. The dim light cast shadows over the defined lines of his body, and you paused mid-step. The air between you crackled with tension, neither of you saying a word.

His gaze swept over you, lingering just a little too long on the way your tank top clung to your frame, the hint of your bump visible. You felt exposed, and yet… drawn to him.

Before you knew it, you were standing close, too close, and Max reached for you, his hand brushing your arm as if testing the waters. Your breath hitched, and when his lips met yours, it was slow, tentative, as if asking for permission.

The kiss deepened, and suddenly, the world fell away. You forgot about his ex, about your insecurities, about everything except the way Max made you feel in that moment. His hands roamed your sides, skimming over your bump with the gentlest touch. But then reality crept back in, your self-doubt surfacing.

You broke the kiss, pulling back, your breath shaky.

“I… I can’t,” you whispered, avoiding his gaze. “Not like this.”

Max looked at you, confusion and concern flickering in his eyes. “What do you mean?”

You bit your lip, arms instinctively wrapping around your midsection. “I just… I don’t feel like myself. My body… it’s different. And I feel like…” You couldn’t finish the sentence, couldn’t bring yourself to admit that you thought he might still want his ex.

But Max understood. He always did.

His hand came up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, the sincerity in his voice making your chest ache. “More than you’ve ever been.”

When you didn’t respond, he lifted you gently onto the counter, his hands firm but tender as they held you in place. “This,” he said, his hand resting over your bump, “is the most beautiful you’ve ever been.”

You stared at him, unsure how to respond, the words stuck in your throat. Max’s hand remained on your bump, his touch warm and grounding. There was something about the way he looked at you—like nothing else in the world mattered except this moment, except you.

“I don’t know how you can see me like that,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I don’t even recognize myself half the time.”

Max’s eyes softened, and he stepped closer, his other hand reaching to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “I know it feels different. But I see you. The same person you’ve always been. And more.” His thumb traced your jawline gently, his touch sending sparks of warmth through your skin. “You’re carrying our son. That makes you even more incredible to me.”

You swallowed, feeling a lump rise in your throat. There was so much you wanted to say—so much you’d held back because of your own fears. The weight of your insecurities pressed against you, threatening to pull you under, but Max’s gaze kept you afloat.

“I guess I’m just scared too,” you admitted softly, your fingers fiddling with the hem of your shorts. “Scared that I’ll never feel… normal again. That you won’t see me the same way when I’m… like this.” You gestured toward your body, feeling the self-consciousness creep back in. “And what if you still want her?”

The confession hung in the air, raw and vulnerable. It felt like a weight off your chest, but the uncertainty still lingered, gnawing at the back of your mind. You couldn’t bear to look at him, afraid of what you’d find in his expression.

But Max didn’t flinch. Instead, his hand moved from your bump to tilt your chin upward, forcing you to meet his eyes. The intensity in his gaze caught you off guard—there was no hesitation, no doubt.

“Look at me,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. “I don’t want her. I want you.” The sincerity in his words wrapped around your heart like a lifeline. “I’ve wanted you this whole time.”

Your breath caught in your throat, the truth of his words sinking in. He wasn’t just saying it to make you feel better. He meant it. And you realized that maybe, just maybe, you had been too wrapped up in your own doubts to see that.

“But I—” you started, but Max didn’t let you finish.

“Shh,” he whispered, leaning in closer, his forehead resting against yours. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted. This—” his hand pressed gently against your bump again, “—only makes me want you more.”

The words melted into you, warm and soothing, slowly chipping away at the walls you’d built around your heart. You could feel his breath against your skin, the closeness between you so palpable it made your head spin.

“Max…” you breathed, the tension still humming between you.

He smiled, his lips brushing the corner of your mouth. “You don’t have to be afraid. I’m not going anywhere.”

In that moment, it felt like everything around you faded, leaving just the two of you suspended in a quiet, fragile space. Your heart pounded, and despite all the fears and insecurities you had, you leaned into him. You kissed him again, slowly this time, letting yourself get lost in the warmth of his lips, in the way his hand cradled your face with so much care.

This time, you didn’t pull away.

His hands slid to your waist, steadying you on the counter, and you felt the warmth spread from your chest to your fingertips. You were aware of every touch, every small breath between kisses, the way Max’s fingers brushed the exposed skin of your lower back. And for the first time in what felt like forever, you weren’t thinking about your body or the way it had changed.

You were just thinking about him.

When the kiss broke, both of you were breathing hard, the air between you charged. Max rested his forehead against yours, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, his thumb brushing along the side of your neck.

And for the first time in a long while, you actually started to believe it.

The last few months had been a whirlwind, and now, at 29 weeks pregnant, you found yourself in a place you never expected: meeting Max’s family. Victoria, Max’s sister, and Sophie, his mother, welcomed you with open arms. Their warmth felt like a much-needed embrace, especially during those moments when the pregnancy felt overwhelming.

Victoria’s laughter echoed through the room as she shared stories. “You should have seen him as a kid! Always getting into trouble. There was this one time he tried to ‘fix’ my Barbie car, and it ended up in pieces all over the living room.”

You chuckled, imagining a young Max surrounded by chaos. “I can see that. It’s a miracle he became a champion instead of a mechanic!”

Sophie smiled, leaning closer. “He always had a knack for determination, but it’s his heart that really makes him special.”

As the evening wore on, you felt a warmth blooming in your chest. You loved hearing their stories about Max, but they quickly turned into advice about motherhood. “Just remember, every child is different,” Sophie said, her eyes shining with wisdom. “Trust your instincts.

That night, as you and Max settled in back at your place, you couldn’t stop thinking about it all—the baby, the move, everything. With Victoria and Sophie by your side, it suddenly made sense to have the baby in the Netherlands, closer to Max’s family. You looked over at Max, his face soft in the dim light.

“I’ve been thinking,” you started, playing with the edge of the blanket. “I want to have Adrie in the Netherlands. I want him to grow up close to your family.”

Max’s gaze flicked to yours, surprise flashing in his eyes before it melted into something softer. “You sure? You don’t feel like it’s too much?”

You shook your head, smiling. “No, I think it’s the right thing to do. Plus, Victoria and Sophie are going to spoil him rotten. He’s going to need us to balance that out.”

Max chuckled softly, reaching over to rest his hand on your bump, his thumb brushing gently over your skin. “I think Adrie will like it here.”

A few weeks later, at the Zandvoort Grand Prix, you were there to support Max. At 30 weeks pregnant, you were still getting used to all the changes in your body, but you didn’t let that stop you from being by his side. You’d already become close with Victoria and Sophie, who spent time with you while Max was training.

That day, as you were making your way through the paddock, you finally met Jos. Max’s father had always been a shadow looming in the background—he rarely came to races and, from what you’d heard, wasn’t exactly the warm and fuzzy type.

The meeting went as you expected—Jos was standoffish, his hostility barely veiled. “So, you’re the one Max has chosen to have a baby with,” he said coldly, scanning you with disdain. “Interesting choice.”

You stood tall, refusing to let his words shake you. “Yes, I am. And we’re excited to welcome Adrie.”

Max’s jaw tightened as he stepped closer to you. “That’s enough, Dad. You don’t get to talk to her like that.”

You placed a hand on Max’s arm, calming him down. “It’s fine, really. I don’t care what he thinks,” you said, keeping your voice steady. “But he did say something nasty, and I just thought you should know.”

At that, Max’s jaw clenched, his hand tightening into a fist. “What did he say?”

You repeated Jos’s comment, and Max immediately stood, pacing the room. “I swear, I’m going to—”

“Max, stop,” you interrupted, gently pulling him back to sit beside you. “He’s not worth it. You’re better than that.”

Max looked at you, his expression softening at your calm demeanor. His hand instinctively went to your belly, feeling the subtle movement beneath his palm. “I don’t want him saying those things about you. You don’t deserve that.”

You gave him a small smile, placing your hand over his. “He’s just bitter because we’re happy, Max. Don’t let him ruin this.”

That night, you FaceTimed Alex and Charles, updating them on everything. As always, they were excited to see how far along you were, Alex’s eyes lighting up when you told them about the latest doctor’s appointment.

“The baby’s kicking more now,” you said with a soft laugh, placing your hand on your bump as if to prove it.

“Let me see!” Alex demanded, leaning into the camera. Charles, sitting beside her, was equally invested.

You shifted the camera to show them your belly, and right on cue, Adrie gave a little kick. Both Alex and Charles gasped, their faces lighting up with joy.

“That’s amazing!” Alex exclaimed. “He’s going to be such a strong little boy!”

You smiled, feeling a rush of warmth at their excitement. It was moments like these that made everything feel more real.

Finally, the day came. You went into labor, and everything happened so quickly that it was a blur. Max was by your side the entire time, his worry evident in the way he hovered around you, making sure you were comfortable. He held your hand through every contraction, whispering words of encouragement, his voice steady even though you could see the fear in his eyes.

When Adrie finally arrived, the room was filled with emotion. Max’s hands trembled as he held his baby boy for the first time, tears slipping down his cheeks as he looked down at his son. You’d never seen him like this—so vulnerable, so overwhelmed with love.

“He’s perfect,” Max whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He looked over at you, his eyes softening as they met yours. “You… you’re amazing. I love you.”

The words hit you like a wave, but they felt right, as if they’d been waiting to be spoken for months. Tears welled up in your eyes as you reached for Max’s hand, squeezing it gently. “I love you too.”

Just as you were about to revel in the peaceful moment, the door to your hospital room burst open, and in came Alex and Charles, balloons and gifts in tow.

“We’re here!” Alex declared, holding up a massive ‘It’s a Boy!’ balloon. Charles followed close behind, grinning like a kid in a candy store.

“Look at him!” Charles beamed, practically bouncing on his feet. “He’s perfect!”

You and Max couldn’t help but laugh at their entrance, the lightness of the moment breaking through the emotional haze of the past few hours.

“Well,” Max said, looking at the both of them, “We have something to ask.”

Alex and Charles immediately quieted down, their eyes wide with anticipation.

“We want you both to be Adrie’s godparents,” you said, smiling as you saw their reactions.

Charles let out an excited whoop, while Alex’s eyes filled with tears. “Of course!” she exclaimed, rushing over to give you a careful hug. “We’d be honored!”

And just like that, everything felt perfect. You had your family, your friends, and most importantly, you had Max and Adrie. It was the happiest ending you could have imagined.

[imfinereallyy]

Steve always tells people "I love you" before saying bye to them. Maybe it's the years of Upside Down trauma, worrying that these words could be his last. Maybe it's the fact his parents never say it before leaving (if they even bothered to say anything to him at all). Maybe it's because each time his parents were away he thinks that this might be the time they never come back, and he isn't even sure if they love him. Maybe it's due to his years of King Steve, hurting others more than loving.

It doesn't really matter though, the why. What matters is that Steve has made it his mission to always do it before his goodbyes (especially after round three of the Upside Down). Always making sure to even say a quick "Love you! Bye!" as he is rushing out the door.

At first, everyone is a bit put off by it. Especially Nancy who at first thought it was a love confession until Steve turns to Jonathan and says the exact same thing. The kids think he's being gross and mushy, even an exasperated "mommmm" is thrown in his direction every once in and while. Robin is the only one who is receptive to it right away. A soft, "love you too dingus" she says to him, no matter if they are attached to the hip or in a screaming match that day.

Eventually, though, everyone accepts this as Steve's new normal. Gentle smiles, light snorts, and bruising punches (thanks max) are the responses given. But then after round four of the Upside Down, everyone seems to now embrace this part of Steve. Never forgetting to say "I love you too" in return.

Steve's heart comes a little closer to healing each time.

Steve only begins to realize it's a problem though when it comes to Eddie.

Steve finds that Eddie is the only one he has to resist saying it to. See, Steve over the years has become better at providing verbal affection. Note, his "I love you's" had blossomed into "I am proud of you" and "I'm worried about you" and so much more. He has grown out of the years of repressed emotion (well, he was actively learning to at least).

What Steve hasn't gotten better at is touch. Steve yearns for it, craves it in fact, but can't find it in him to reach out. His fear of rejection is too great. And Steve's friends don't really give out touch to those who don't actively seek it.

Eddie though may be the touchiest person he has ever met. It's small stuff at first.

A shoulder brush.

A clap on the back.

A poke in the ribs.

But then it soon turns into bigger stuff.

A boop on the nose.

A tug at his hair.

A goddamn hug from behind.

It's overwhelming, it's intoxicating. Steve can't really tell if it's good or bad for his health. And Steve knows if he asks Eddie to stop he will. Despite his touchy tendencies, the guy understood boundaries. But the problem is that Steve doesn't want him to stop.

The problem is that Eddie's constant physical affection is starting to collide with Steve's need to express verbal affection. The problem is Eddie is starting to fill the rest of the void in his heart. The problem is Steve...

The problem is Steve has to stop himself from expressing his normal "I love you's" because he knows it will mean something different, something more this time. He knows everyone will notice the difference after their years of hearing him say it.

So, Steve never says it to Eddie.

It's no biggie really. Or so Steve thinks until Eddie corners him in the kitchen during one of their game nights.

"Steve, do you...do you have a problem with me?" Eddie asks shyly, staring down at his boots. It was an odd look on him as Eddie was normally larger than life, commanding a room. It hurt Steve to see him like this.

"What? Why would you think that?" Steve asks shocked.

"Not really a no, Harrington." Eddie chuckles darkly, "And don't think I didn't notice but you kinda have a hangup about saying I love you to everyone except me. And ya know, I wouldn't really be offended really if it was cause we haven't known each other very long and ya know, cause I'm a guy. But then, I see you saying it to Argyle. Real easily in fact. And it wouldn't bother me if it was because we weren't close, but Stevie—" Eddie's voice cracks a little, as he slips into his nickname for Steve. Steve knows now, how serious Eddie is being. "—you've gotten to know me better than anyone in this whole stupid state. And that's including Wayne. Hell, you might even be my best friend even though I'm not yours. I'm not delusional I know no one can knock Robin from that spot." Eddie is rambling so hard that he gives Robin a run for her money. Steve thinks for a moment, that the two have been spending too much time together.

Steve stays silent as he walks towards Eddie to stand directly in front of him. Eddie continues without noticing. "Then I worry, it's because maybe. Maybe it's because you found out that I am gay. And that, you had a problem with that. That you have a problem with me." Eddie's voice starts off shaky but then turns into steel as he finishes. He makes sure to keep direct eye contact with Steve, driving his point.

Steve first thinks, wait Eddie's gay? Then Steve processes everything, panics, and loses his filter completely. Throws his worry about losing his best friend (don't tell Robin, but she's his soulmate so she'll forgive him) out the window, and throws his heart on the table instead. "Jesus, no Eds. I—shit. It's not that at all. Like I don't care about that stuff. You know that. I love Robin regardless."

Eddie gives him a look that screams, we both know why it's different. Steve pushes forwards anyway. "And it's not that I don't want to say it to you. It's just, it's different okay. Like with everyone else, I don't have to worry about it being bullshit. And god that sounds bad, but I don't know how else to say it. And I just know if I say it, if I say it you'll just know it's different, and then you'll hate me and it's one thing for the others to not say it back at first, but I think it might kill me if you didn't. And that's not fair to put that pressure on you." God, now Steve could give Robin a run for her money.

"Sweetheart—"

Steve cuts him off, he knows if he doesn't say it now he won't say it all. "God Eddie if you knew how much I cared—if you knew how much I worried every time you leave. If you knew how much I worry about how I don't say it to you when you leave, how I might not ever get to say it, it would terrify you, Eddie. This isn't a normal amount of affection. This is like—what's the word—astronomical amounts of affection. Cause Eddie, it takes everything in me every single time you walk away to not say I. Love. You."

Steve hears it, how he says it. He knows how it's going to sound before it comes out. How it's different. How it's more. Steve closes his eyes in shame.

Eddie's hand cups Steve's cheek. "Baby."

The hush, but the firm tone makes Steve open his eyes. Eddie has gotten so close they are breathing the same air. Steve's heart stutters.

"Baby," Eddie says again, before giving Steve the one affectionate touch he hasn't gotten yet.

A kiss.

A soft, heartstopping kiss. A kiss that has Steve's soul bursting at the seams.

Steve leans his forehead against Eddie's, feeling content for the first time in weeks. Knowing this was Eddie's way of saying it back.

Though, the delicate "I love you too." that Eddie whispers against Steve's lips doesn't hurt either.

Not even a little bit.

—

sometimes I set out to write a quick little thing…and sometimes that little thing turns into a big thing. enjoy :)

p.s. I apologize if there are any tense changes, I wrote this at 1 am lol

[cutielando]

always | m.v.

synopsis: in which you're always there to comfort him

my masterlist

Max got hate.

It was a known fact, but one you vehemently despised. It broke your heart seeing the comments on posts, hearing what people thought of your boyfriend and what things they had to say about him. 

Everyone hated people when they were at their best, they loved dragging them through the mud. Max had started getting a lot of hate after winning his second World Champion title. Due to the fact that he always stated that he didn't care about anyone's opinion of him, it only added to the fuel of hate already coming in.

The biggest amount of hate came swirling in after he had won his third World Championship. Max had absolutely dominated the 2023 season, rendering it obvious that he would be the one ending up winning the Championship once again. 

As amazing as that was, the fans didn't seem to share the same thoughts. They started spreading hate that Max was taking all the fun out of the sport, that the races had become predictable and a lot of fans had given up watching because they had got sick of seeing Max win all the time. It broke your heart when you would see the toll it would have on your boyfriend.

The night after you guys celebrated in style in the clubs of Qatar, the mood dropped when you guys made it back to the hotel and Max finally opened his phone.

You had been taking your make-up off, starting on your night skincare routine, while Max settled on changing out of his clothes and getting into bed.

"Max?" you called out, the silence coming from the room being unusual for your boyfriend. He was always one to talk about everything and anything while you did your skincare, knowing you would get bored otherwise.

No response.

It made you slightly suspicious, but you let it go for the moment, figuring he had just fallen asleep.

Finishing up, you dried your hands and tied your hair in a loose ponytail before exiting the bathroom. You, however, were not prepared for the sight that met your eyes.

Max was sitting at the edge of the bed, silently sobbing in his hands, his phone discarded on the floor by his feet. You immediately sat down next to him, enveloping him in your arms.

"Shh, it's okay. I'm here, you're okay" you cooed in his ear, rubbing soothing circles on his back and whispering sweet nothings in his ear.

His sobs were wrecking his body, his tears soaking up your shirt. He was holding onto you tightly, afraid that you would just vanish in thin air if he let go of you for even a second. You didn't know what had brought this on, Max had never been one to cry or let what others said about him affect him. 

His sobs slowly started dissipating and turning into little sniffles after a while, his body now void of any tension, slumped against your own tiredly.

"Do you want to talk about it?" your voice was soft, your hands still caressing his soft hair and his back. 

He was silent for a moment, so you didn't press any further. You didn't want to make him feel obligated to talk about what was bothering him if he didn't want to.

"They all hate me" he spoke up, making your eyebrows furrow.

"Who hates you?" you questioned, still keeping up your soothing motions.

"The fans. They all hate me because I've come first this season. They're all saying they hate the sport because of me and that I never give anyone else a chance and it-s getting boring. It's not my fault that I win, I just do it because I like it" he confessed, sniffling before straightening up and pulling away from you.

You shook your head, watching him as he picked up his phone from off the ground. He unlocked it and glanced at it for a second before handing it to you.

"He's taking all the fun out of the sport, I gave up watching it because of him"

"He should honestly just give up and make some room for other people. Nobody likes him winning all the time"

"He's definitely cheating, there is no way someone is that dominant compared to all the other drivers. Does Red Bull honestly want us to believe he's winning on pure talent and with a good car? Not buying it"

"Max should go and kill himself, nobody wants him in this sport anymore. It was fun at first, but now it's making me hate even hearing about Formula 1"

The comments made your heart break little by little. You couldn't understand how people could be so cruel, how they could hate on someone so dedicated and talented, judging him for anything he did.

"Oh, baby. None of those things are true, Max" you said to him while cupping his face, but he shook his head and looked down.

"It is, they're right. Maybe I should just retire and stop racing, that way everything could go back to normal" he shrugged, but the idea sounded ridiculous to you.

"Baby, listen to me. Those people have no idea what they're talking about. They have no idea how much work you put in during the whole year to be able to drive the car. Nobody knows how much pressure you're under, they have no idea. Baby, you've worked so hard to get here and it's finally paying off. You're so talented, so driven and so dedicated to this sport, your wins and titles are just the fruit of your labor. Don't let people tear you down just because they're frustrated and have no idea what they're talking about" a new wave of tears started falling from his eyes and down his cheek, but he was smiling at you this time.

"I don't deserve you" he whispered, hugging you and burying his head into the crook of your neck. 

"You deserve me and everything that you have achieved. I love you, and I am proud of you. Next time you're feeling like this, please come to me. I hate seeing you cry over this" you felt him nod, which brought small relief to your heart.

"I love you too. Thank you for always being here for me, I don't know how I would be able to cope with everything if it wasn't for you" he replied, leaving small kisses on your neck.

"You're never going to have to know what it's like without me. I never plan to leave" you reassured him, giving him a squeeze.

You couldn't even begin to thank your lucky stars for giving you such a perfect boyfriend, someone you were sure you were going to love for the rest of your life.

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[steddiealltheway]

Eddie is a touchy person, and Steve knows it. Hell, he likes it because he's a touchy person, too. But when your friends are literal children, these forms of touch come out as ruffling their hair to annoy them or pats on the back. And Robin, she's great, but not too big on physical touch, especially from guys. Which is understandable really.

But Eddie... well, Steve's allowed to do whatever he wants with him. He gets to hug him, rest a hand on his back, and, shit, sometimes he even gets to hold his hand whenever they do a movie night. And yes, if there's hand-holding, there's also cuddling.

But they're both touch-starved so it doesn't really mean anything... right?

He's mainly wondering this because of their current position - cuddling on the couch face to face. Steve's hand is on Eddie's face, tracing over his cheekbones, his nose, his eyebrows, his jaw... his lips. Honestly, he feels like he's trying to memorize his face by touch, feeling out which areas are soft and which are rough with stubble.

He's never been allowed to explore this before, but Eddie lets him. Plus, he's pretty much a pile of goo under his touch - smile soft, eyes closed, and all around relaxed.

Then, Eddie's hand comes up to run through Steve's hair, and Steve closes his eyes against the touch. God, he loves when Eddie plays with his hair.

He knows that Eddie likes the same thing, but he doesn't like Steve's hand running through his curls because sometimes his fingers get caught and accidentally pull. So, Steve's hand comes up to his scalp, gently massaging and scratching the way Eddie likes.

A movie drones on behind them. Steve's not really sure when he turned completely around to face Eddie, but he doesn't mind. Sometimes this happens. Sometimes Eddie pulls him close and doesn't let him turn, telling him to focus on the movie while he runs a hand up and down his arm.

Steve really can't complain.

He leans his head forward, pressing his forehead against Eddie's, focusing on the way their breath mix together, warm and damp. Steve likes the way it ghosts over his lips.

Eddie shifts in front of him, head coming up slightly so his nose brushes against his as his breath becomes much heavier on Steve's lips. The hand in Steve's hair tugs slightly, pulling his head back so Steve's lips get that tingling sensation alerting him that there's something almost within touch that he could press against with just the slightest movement.

Steve opens his eyes, noticing how close Eddie is, eyes searching Steve's as if asking something that he can't read. But the breath between them changes, becoming more rushed - nervous.

Then, Eddie shifts again, letting their lips lightly brush in a way that could be registered as an accident. But Steve finally gets it when Eddie's eyes search his as he pulls back again.

And shit, yeah, he wants to kiss him too.

So, he shifts his left hand, bringing it out of Eddie's hair, letting it rest against the back of his neck, ready to pull him in.

"Okay, movie night is over!" Dustin yells.

Steve startles back, only being saved when Eddie's hand grabs him by the waist and pulls him in.

He reluctantly turns, noticing everyone's eyes on him - or rather, him and Eddie.

"We can handle the weird PDA, but we draw the line at making out in front of us. Jesus, you two are such a clingy couple," Dustin says, rolling his eyes.

Steve's heart thuds in his chest. "Couple?" he asks.

He feels Eddie tense against him at the question.

"Yeah, we know you've been dating for weeks now. Don't act so surprised," Max says, arms crossed next to El who mirrors the same position.

"Weeks?" Steve asks, feeling weird about the whole thing since he's literally spooned against Eddie.

"It was kind of obvious when you first started holding hands," Will pipes in.

"Plus, everyone knew about Eddie's crush on you, so it wasn't hard to put the pieces together," Mike says.

Crush?

Eddie shifts behind him, sitting up in the small space, putting distance between them. Steve turns to lie on his back, glancing at him as Eddie puts his head in his hands. "We're not dating," Eddie grumbles.

Why does the truth hurt so much?

"Really?" Lucas asks. "Because we wouldn't be against it if you were. At all."

Steve stares at Eddie whose hands flex in his hair. "Really," Steve says. He clears his throat and looks at the kids. "Why don't we finish the movie tomorrow? You all rode on your bikes here, right?"

All the kids nod, looking at each other in a mixture of disbelief and guilt. "We should go," El states. "We will see you tomorrow."

With that, all the kids rush out of the house without another word, giving the two all the space they need.

"I'm sorry," Eddie says, voice quivering a bit. "I-I should've told you. Shit, I didn't think it would get this far, and I didn't, like, try to feel you up or anything. And I got carried away earlier and forgot this is different for you than it is for me. Christ, I am so sorry, Steve."

Steve sits up and runs a hand over Eddie's back, glad that the movement has Eddie looking up at him, scared, with tears in his eye. Steve lays back and opens his arms wide. "Come here," he says.

Eddie stares at him, not moving.

Steve sighs. "This is always what we do when you're upset and that's not changing, so come here."

Eddie's tongue rests against the top of his lip for a moment before he moves to lay slightly on top of him, head resting in the crook of Steve's neck.

Steve lets his hand travel up and down his back, slightly gliding into his hair as it comes up. He thinks.

When they were first friends, Steve would mostly go for casual touches - a pat on the back, a shoulder squeeze, sometimes throwing a hug in there when he really missed him. Somewhere along the way, it became impossible to not be near him. And Steve had never felt so drawn to someone before.

He had brushed it off for a while, blaming it on him being touch starved - which he was. But usually, he resolved those feelings by having meaningless sex with some girl. Which he hasn't had since he and Eddie started becoming practically glued at the hip. God, he hasn't had any urge to even flirt with anyone really. It's like Eddie has filled all his relationship needs without Steve noticing.

Except for the kissing part. Which, now he's noticed the need for that, he can't stop thinking about it.

Shit, he really wanted to kiss him - still wants to kiss him.

Why isn't he kissing him?

Rather, why isn't he dating him?

He turns toward the mess of curly and swipes them back, trying to look at Eddie, but his face is still buried in his neck.

"Eddie," Steve says. Eddie hums against him, not lifting his head. Steve smiles. "Lift your head up a bit."

Eddie slowly shifts and rests his head in the corner of the couch away from Steve.

Steve snorts. "Lift your head up, not to the side, Eds."

Eddie reluctantly lifts his head up, looking down at Steve.

Shit, he's gorgeous. How did he not notice this before when he was literally memorizing his face? ...oh, maybe that's why he was doing that.

Steve lifts his hand up and swipes Eddie's hair to the right before cupping his face. "What if I told you that I wanted to date you?" Steve asks.

Eddie's eyes widen then shut as he shakes his head. "Don't pity me, Harrington."

"Eddie," Steve says sternly. "What if I wanted to date you?"

Eddie's eyes open and stare down at him. "Steve, you don't mean that."

Steve brings both his hands up to cup his face. "Stop arguing with me. I want to date you, and I want to kiss you, and take you on proper dates, and tell the kids how crazy I am about you to the point that they start complaining about it. Eddie, I'm sorry that it took me so long to realize, but I like you. Shit, I think we've been dating for weeks now without either of us realizing it. So, can you stop arguing with me so we can finally make this official?"

Eddie stares at him, letting his eyes flick back and forth between Steve's as if trying to figure out if he's lying. "You want to date me?" he asks.

Steve groans. "Yes, Eddie."

"Actually?" Eddie asks.

Steve carefully guides his head down to rest against his forehead. "Yes, Eddie."

"You're sure?"

Steve's hand presses into the back of his neck, so his lips brush against Eddie's. "Yes, Eddie."

Eddie sighs in relief. "Can I kiss you now?"

"Yes, Eddie."

They both move at the same time, finally relieving that tingling sensation as their lips push together.

Steve only wonders how he didn't realize he needed this sooner.

[lnfours]

you are in love | l.n

summary: the moment where you knew he was the one.

warnings: best friends to lovers au, shitty dates, language, a little bit of innuendos, and just pure, tooth rotting fluff.

masterlist | inbox | listen

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

you walked out of the restaurant, nails tapping against your screen as you walked on the sidewalk. there was a soft, warm breeze in the city of monaco as you stared down at your phone. your phone locked once you found somewhere to stand, out of the sight from the crowds, and specifically the guy you had left at the dinner table.

can you come get me?

it was almost ten. and if he wasn’t asleep, he was definitely doing better things with his time-

of course, where are you?

your heart pattered against your chest, your fingers moving to tell him the name of the street corner you were standing at. he had responded quickly after, saying he’d be there in five.

and he was, the mclaren pulling up besides you. he had the top open for the nighttime summer breeze to flow through. you stepped closer, opening the door and climbing in carefully before closing it behind you.

“you alright?” he asked, car still parked as he made sure he didn’t have to go back into the restaurant and give the guy a piece of his mind.

when you nodded, he let out a breath of relief, “i just really know how to pick ‘em, huh?”

he huffed out a laugh, pulling onto the road, “we could say that,” he looked back over at you as you looked out the window, “back to mine? or yours?”

you met those stupidly beautiful green eyes and you let out a shaky breath as his eyes scanned your features, “yours is fine. blair is out of town anyway, so it’s been lonely.”

“oh, yeah? where she go this time? ibiza? france?” he joked and you snorted next to him. your roommate, blair, came from money. big money. and every other weekend, she always had somewhere new to take her father’s private jet. even if it was just to visit a louis vuitton store in paris.

her frequent trips had become an inside joke to you, max and lando. so far as to where the three of you make bets on which extravagant place shes visiting every time she leaves. this week, it’s bali.

“close,” you nod, “her family’s vacationing in bali this week.”

“damn,” he mumbled, “so close.”

you both shared a soft laugh, a comfortable silence falling over the two of you as you watched the city life out the window. he couldn’t help but take occasional glances towards you, his eyes falling to the necklace sparkling around your neck.

the one he had gotten you for your most recent birthday. you had refused to accept his gift at first, immediately shaking your head when you spotted the tiffany blue box underneath the wrapping paper.

but he insisted, and now you never took it off. a silver heart engraved with a little four. a subtle detail, but a special one. some people thought he seemed ‘full of himself’ because he got you a gift with his number on it. but, you were the one who encouraged him to chase his dreams. the one who pushed him to do better, the one who never believed for a second how the media tried to paint him out to be.

because, to you, he wasn’t ’lando norris: mclaren formula one driver with a sassy attitude who’s full of himself’, to you he was just ‘lando: the boy you’ve known your entire life, who knew everything about you, and the boy who would pick you up after a shitty date’.

at the end of the day, it was always the two of you against anything and everything. two peas in a pod, as cisca would say.

the two of you got to his apartment, his key unlocking the door and pushing it open. once you got inside, you kicked your heels off by the door as he made his way into the kitchen.

“do you still have those makeup wipes i left here?” you asked.

he nodded, reaching into one of the cupboards as he grabbed the white mug with little yellow stars on it. your mug.

“should be in the top drawer in the bathroom with your toothbrush and hairbrush,” he said, turning back to you, “want a coffee?”

you nodded, letting out a soft sigh, “please. milk and two-“

“two sugars,” he smiled softly, “i know.”

you smiled back at him before turning and walking down the hallway to his bedroom. when you entered, you took in the view of his freshly made bed and the hamper in the corner being empty. a sign that he had done his laundry and cleaned the house today.

you hummed softly, opening the closet door and thumbing through the different hoodies he had. you settled on an older mclaren one, the same one he had lent you a few years back when you were crying on his couch.

you also snagged a pair of sweatpants while you were in there, changing into them and placing your dress on his dresser. making a mental note to take it with you when he takes you home in the morning.

once you had taken your makeup off in the bathroom, you made your way back to the living room where he was sitting on the couch, phone in hand as he held his mug. you sat next to him, your mug on the table next to you. you took it into your hands, smiling over the rim.

“thank you,” you said.

“‘course,” he smiled, locking his phone and picking up the remote, “what episode were we on before we fell asleep the other night? i don’t remember,”

you looked over at the tv in front of you, now noticing he had the show the two of you had been watching pulled up. you twisted your lips in thought.

“uhm, i think six? maybe seven?” you said, he clicked on six and after a few seconds you realized the two of you had guessed correctly.

at some point during the show, your head had ended up on his shoulder. his arm had pulled you closer into him, taking in the smell of his cologne and the shampoo he used. a scent you had grown to love, to look forward to every time he wrapped his arms around you to give you a hug, or whenever you were close enough to him to pick up on it.

at some point you had zoned out, thinking to yourself. maybe the reason all these dates hadn’t worked out was because they all lacked something. something no one else had other than lando, the boy who knew you like the back of his hand.

you shifted, moving to look at the boy with curly brown hair, his face illuminated by the soft glow of the tv. you took in the beauty marks that freckled his face, the ones he used to complain about when he was younger, but you always said it was your favorite thing.

maybe it wasn’t the fact that lando knew you like the back of your hand that turned you away from all the other men who’d swipe right on you. maybe it was the fact that they weren’t him.

you didn’t know when, but somehow you had fallen in love with the boy next to you. i mean, who could blame you? he was everything you could ever dream of, the perfect man.

he turned and met your eyes, his face inches from yours now. you smiled softly, his lips turning up in return. his eyes scanned yours and you took in a nervous breath when his eyes traveled to your lips.

“i’m sorry that date didn’t work out for you,” he said softly, “these guys really don’t know what they’re missing out on.”

you shrugged, “it’s okay,” your heart was hammering against your chest, questioning silently to yourself if he could hear it.

he couldn’t, but he could tell when he scanned your face that you didn’t really seem all that upset. he wasn’t really sorry, either, to be fair. it might’ve seemed selfish, but he always anticipated your ‘can you come get me?’ texts whenever he knew you were going out. he prayed the dates would fail, so he could finally be the one to take you out and do it properly. give you that fairytale kind of love you deserve.

he blurted out before his mind could even filter it, “can i tell you something?”

you hummed. fuck, there was no going back now.

“i’m kind of glad those dates haven’t worked out.”

you furrowed your eyebrows in question, “why’s that?”

“because i want to be the one to take you out,” his voice was soft and it sent your heart right into your throat, “all the fancy dinners, the kissing goodnight at the doorstep, all of it.”

his eyes traveled back to your lips and you sucked in a breath, “can i tell you something too?”

he nodded, his face centimeters away from yours now. your warm breath fanned his face, the smell of your perfume and the hair product you had put in hours beforehand captivating him.

“i want all of that with you, too.” you smiled and he grinned back, a soft laugh leaving both of your lips. he reached up, his hand lifting your chin.

“you sure you want to be stuck with me?” he asked, “cause once i start, i don’t think i could stop.”

your nose brushed against his, “i wouldn’t have it any other way.”

that was all it took until his lips were pressing against yours. you kissed him back, the hand that wasn’t holding your jaw reaching to your hip and pulling you closer, leaving no room between you as you climbed into his lap.

your hands threaded through the curls on the nape of his neck, his arms wrapping around you. a moment of complete bliss, the moment you’ve been waiting for for what felt like ages.

“lets go to bed, yeah?”

you nodded back, nose bumping his as your face wore a smile. he stood from the couch, hands supporting your thighs before letting your legs wrap around his torso. he carried you down the hallway, your face nuzzled into the crook of his neck.

he placed you down on the mattress, the two of you entangling limbs underneath the sheets. he played with the soft strands of your hair, his lips pressing against the top of your head as you listened to his heart beat against his ribs. existing in complete contentment with each others company.

“breakfast in the morning?” he asked softly.

you thought about it for a minute, turning to look at him. it was dark, but you could still make out his face, “sure, just as long as you don’t burn the toast.”

[thoughtidtry]

Mr. Perfectly Fine - MV CL

SUMMARY: Angst: After your break up you take time to reflect on the man you once thought hung the stars. Who knew another would help you find the beauty in the stars as they fell. PAIRING: Ex!Max Verstappen X fem!reader, Charles Leclerc x reader at the end. A/N: Inspired by Mr. Perfectly Fine by Taylor Swift. Experimenting with formatting so please let me know if it helps with reading! 2.8k+ words... I apparently can't write anything smaller let me know if you all would rather have it in thousand-word parts instead of one long post!

"Mr. "Perfect Face" Mr. "Here to stay""

"You're so beautiful liefje"

Max hummed in the crook of your neck as you lay back on his chest while watching a movie. These moments were your favorite, the quiet murmurs, and gentle touches while enjoying each other company. The times when you had him all to yourself with no cameras or teammates looking at you both.

"Look who's talking pretty boy"

You responded back with a playful smirk knowing he hated being called pretty.

"Only pretty liefde really. I'm offended"

All you could do was giggle before looking back at your boyfriend to find him clutching his chest like you would imagine an old lady clutching her pearls.

"Oh I'm so sorry, I didn't know being pretty was a bad thing now"

Faking an innocent look as you apologized for your disrespectful comment. You wanted to see how far you could tease before he reacted. Already he looked like he was mulling over whether or not to accept you heartfelt apology.

"Of course pretty could never fully articulate how a face as perfect as your looks. I again am so sorry for the offen-"

"Oh that's it!"

You were interrupted by being picked up and tossed on the couch beside him before he was on top of you looking done. With a smug smirk on his face, he pinned your hands above your head with one hand before starting to tickle you with the other.

"You gonna really apologize now"

You couldn't help but laugh as he poked and squeezed your sides till you were gasping for breath. His laughter echoed in your ears as he continued to torture you.

"I-I'm sorry p-please max"

You finally gasped out and he stopped still chuckling before leaning down to peck your lip quickly.

"That's what I thought"

He declared with a look of triumph on if face. You study his face for a moment with a soft smile before you glance over to see you already looking at him.

"What, liefde?"

Max questioned, his eyes filled with curiosity. You shrugged before answer as if it was the most common phrase ever spoke.

"I just wish we could stay like this forever. Here. Just the two of us."

He softly smiled back at you taking in how relaxed and angelic you looked in the soft glow of the TV.

"Well, I don't plan on going anywhere without you. I'm here to stay as long as you'll have me."

"Mr. "Change of heart" Mr. "Leaves me all alone""

You had never minded Max having to travel to races it was a part of his job. He used to love you tagging along with him to the races, being in the paddock with all the other girlfriends and wives of the other racers, and going back to the hotel with him after to help him relax after a long day. It made sense that you wouldn't be at every race but recently it seemed like he didn't want you there at all.

There was always some last-minute reason he needed to be at the track days before free practice started and you couldn't get off work in time before he had to leave. Trips started to become longer and longer to the point he was never home. You tried your best to understand but you missed him.

You talk on the phone when possible but they were always short. He always had an excuse why he had to go. The engineers needed to talk to him about the car, Checo was waiting on him for a video, or he had made plans to hang out with one of the other drivers.

"Mr. "Never had to see me cry" Mr. "Insincere apology so he doesn't look like the bad guy""

At some point, you stopped trying to call him and just resorted to texting him. His responses were few and hours apart with a made-up reason why he hadn't answered. You were beginning to lose hope when your phone rang one day. The excitement in your voice was evident when answering the call.

"Hey Max, how's the race going?" He sighed in annoyance that you even asked. "Yeah it's fine, look we need to talk" You took a step back at his tone. He was cold or maybe even angry. This wasn't like him at all at least not the side of him you knew. "O-okay yeah. What's up? Everything alright?" You were panicking a little worried something bad had happened. Was he hurt? Did something happen at the track? "Look I just don't think this is really working out. I think we should end things." You froze in shock, this had to be a joke right? He did just say that. All you could get out was a whisper like your voice had been stolen and tears started to well up in your eyes. "W-What?" Another sigh came from his side of the phone. As if this was becoming a more tedious conversation than he had planned. "We just aren't the same anymore you know. I'm sorry, I need someone less clingy, someone who understands what I do for a living." There was a pause as you heard another voice before he continued "I got to go, Christian wants to talk about something. I'll send you any stuff you left in my apartment when I get back. Bye."

"Cause I hear he's got his arm 'round a brand-new girl. I've been picking up my heart, he's been picking up her"

The last few weeks had been nothing but painful. Ever since the break up you've had several people calling and texting you. From the girlfriends and wives you used to spend time with in the paddock check to see if you're okay to random acquaintances wanting to hear all the dirty details. It made you sick thinking about that call, you thought that would be the worst of it until you got a text from Charles Leclerc.

At first, you thought he was just another person trying to figure out what had happened. You had spoken to him multiple times and were able to joke around with each other before everything happened but you weren't surprised. At least you weren't until you opened up the messages.

Hey, I know you probably want to be left alone, but I don't want you to get blindsided by seeing later. Max is seeing someone else. None of us knew until yesterday when he brought her to the paddock and started introducing her to everyone. I just wanted to let you know instead of you finding out through the media.

All the healing you thought you had done crumbled like a house of cards. The tears started to fall before you even got to read the last message. It hadn't even been a full month. How could he have moved on so fast? Through tear-blurred gaze you decided to respond to Charles.

Thank you for letting me know.... I appreciate your honesty. You're right I would like to be left alone. I'm glad to have met you and everyone else, but I can't keep talking to you all. It hurts too much, too many memories. Hope you have a great race, Charles..... Thank you again.

Charles felt a pang of guilt reading those messages. You had always been kind to him and seemed to care a lot about everyone you came in contact with. He felt angry at Max on your behalf and wanted to help you in any way possible.

You are an amazing person chérie. I know you want to be alone but I can't abide by your wishes. Please let me be there for you. We don't have to talk about anything in particular, just tell me about your day or we can talk about our hobbies. Just let me be here for you, please?

It took you a moment before responding to the process. Charles wasn't a bad guy from what you knew of him. You had been isolating yourself from everyone the last couple of weeks not wanting to talk about everything. Maybe having someone to talk to about normal life would be nice? A sigh of defeat left as you messaged him back.

okay.... so what do like to do in your free time?

Charles softly smiles at your message. It was a start and he'll take it. He responded back quickly telling you about how he likes playing the piano and how he had released a few songs. This was a pleasant surprise for you and you told him you listen to them.

"Oh, he's so smug, Mr. "Always wins" So far above me in every sense."

The end of the racing season came quicker than you could have imagined. You and Charles had become closer than you had ever expected. He was there for you to cry to and laugh with and as your heart mended he filled in the cracks still seeping sorrow with his own love and compassion.

Sitting on a stool in his kitchen while he tried to cook you dinner, you couldn't help teasing him for his terrible cooking skills. He mocked you back at how inept you were when it came to baking. The conversation lulled as he began to focus on not burning the food before he hesitantly brought up the award ceremony. "If it's too soon I understand, but I would love for you to be my date."

You took a moment to consider the proposition. As long as you were in Charles' life Max would be in yours. You knew you would have to see him sooner or later, so why not now? With your decision made you smiled a bit.

"I would love to be your date, Charles. This is your night to celebrate a great season. I wouldn't miss it for the world."

The night arrived sooner than you had anticipated and there you were walking on Charles' arm in a velvet red dress looking in his words like an angel. You held the compliment close as you made your entrance together.

Friends and acquaintances were rightfully shocked at your attendance. They quickly came to hug you and let you know how happy they were to see you before you all were seated for the ceremony. It felt good to be around everyone again, you had missed them. Missed the funny moments and heartfelt chats. The night seemed to be shaping up to a great time.

Max made a speech when accepting his WDC trophy. He made sure to thank a woman named Kelly, who you assumed was his girlfriend, along with the normal thank you to his team.

He seemed so calm, relaxed, and perfectly fine. It had only been a few months, how could you still be recovering while he was at ease. You felt so small and lowly at that moment, looking up at him at the top of his career.

Charles, of course, noticed like he always did and grabbed your hand in his with a soft squeeze before running his thumb across your knuckles. Once the ceremony ended, the people who had not noticed you before came to say hello while others said their goodbyes.

"Now I'm Ms. "Gonna be alright someday" and someday, maybe you'll miss me. But by then, you’ll be Mr. “Too late”."

Max stood near the front smiling as he talked to some of the other racers. He was dressed in a simple black suit with a bow tie to match and a beautiful woman on his arm. You could see why he liked her, she was gorgeous and seemed to fit perfectly beside him. As the commotion around your appearance began to reach an all-time high, he looked to see who it was about.

Never did he expect to see you, in a criminally perfect red dress that hugged your curves in all the right places, hanging on to none other than Charles Leclerc. He couldn't have stopped himself from staring if he wanted to. You looked amazing and he could tell you smile was genuine.

The sharp sting of past memories hit him as he studied your body language. So open, warm, and cheerful as you spoke you Lily, he realized how much he had missed you. Once your eyes locked it was over, your grip on Charles' arms tightened as Max strides forward completely leaving his girlfriend behind.

Charles noticed your discomfort, immediately following your gaze. He thought something might happen, Max would never just let you attend without having something to say. Looking down while shaking his head, he swore so quietly you barely heard before leaning close to your ear.

"Let me know if you want to leave. It's okay if you don't wanna talk to him."

Looking up at him, you softly smiled at how empathetic he was about your feelings. The worry in his eyes was evident but you had prepared for this. Resting a hand on his chest you shook your head.

"No, it's okay. Let's just get it over with and have a great night."

“Goodbye, Mr. “Casually Cruel”, Mr. “Everything revolves around you”.”

Max's blood boiled as he watched you touching Charles. How did you even know him? You had barely spoken to the Ferrari driver during your relationship. When did you get so close to him? He would find out soon enough as he drew closer.

"Charles" He nodded to the driver after coming to a stop in front of the pair before glancing over at you.

"What are you doing here Leifde"

He hadn't meant for that to come out but it still felt natural to call you that even after all this time. It sent a surge of anger through you to have him call you that again.

"I'm not your Leifde anymore Max. You lost the right to call me that. Would hate for your girlfriend to hear you."

You sneered back like venom making it clear you did not appreciate the name. He smirks at your reaction, loving that he still has an effect on you. Turning to look back at Charles he decided to try and get a raise out of him. After all, he's the reason your here right.

"What couldn't find your own date so you settled for my ex?"

Charles' composure snapped at that. How dare Max speak about you in such a disrespectful manner. You, even on your worst nights, couldn't say a negative comment about this man and here he was acting like you were damaged goods. He went to step forward and get in Max's face when you held him back getting in between the two placing both hands on his chest. Looking up at him, hoping he would understand what you were planning to do.

"He's not worth it, amour."

You loudly spoke the last word to get Charles' attention. He snapped his head down to you at the sound of his native language on your tongue. With a cheeky smirk on your face, you lean up to whisper in his ear.

"Please just play along."

There was a hint of mischief he caught in your eye as you moved one hand slowly up to the back of his neck.

"Mon chéri, let's just go home. I wanna slip into something more...comfortable"

Not only did this make the Dutchman scoff from behind you but also stormed off mumbling something under his breath. Charles can’t take his eyes off you, not when had just hinted at being a couple to get Max to leave. He didn’t mind it. If he was honest, he had actually enjoyed the way it felt to have you holding on to him all night. You let out a sigh of relief once he was gonna looking back up at Charles. Taking a small step away you started to apologize before being cut off.

“Come on ma belle fille, let’s get you home.”

Charles smiled a sweet smile grabbing your hand to usher you out of the room.

“Goodbye, Mr. “Perfectly Fine”.”

As you and Charles arrived at your house, he broke the comfortable silence of the driver. He looked like at scolded puppy as he began to talk.

“I’m glad you came with me tonight. Sorry I almost lost my cool at the end there.”

You snicker a bit before hanging him a half shrug.

“Honestly, it felt great to put Max in his place so thank you.”

He chuckled a bit in response while shaking his head slightly. Max was an idiot for losing you and Charles wasn’t gonna make the same mistake.

“Glad you had a good night Cheri. I know this might be too soon but could I possibly take you on a date? “

He pause hesitantly before continuing to ramble on

“If it’s too soon I completely understand but I couldn’t let my chance to show you how much I liked you pass without at least-“

You cut him off by grabbing his face, pulling him in for a kiss. At first, the shock of you kissing him caused him to freeze but he quickly recovered, kissing you back with so much passion that you were left speechless. Smiling as you both pulled apart, he had to be certain.

“So, is that a yes?”

You threw you head back laughing before confirming.

“Yes Charles, I would love to go on a date with you.”

[captainpulisic]

the rust that grew between telephones - c. pulisic

authors note: saw a video on twitter where christians parents called him a 'shy, soft spoken kind of guy' and I got really soft over him gif credit to owner word count: 2.6 k

you’re dead asleep when the phone screen begins to light up the room. you blindly reach for the it on your nightstand, refusing to fully exit your slumbered state. surely you had set your alarm clock to the wrong time last night, because there was no fucking way it was already time to start the day. you’d bet your life that you had just fallen asleep, at max, an hour ago. 

it’s okay, you try to convince yourself. it’s probably only midnight and I have many, many hours of sleep left. 

yet, as you peek one eye open, it is not your blaring alarm illuminating your screen and room. you’re met with christians contact photo. suddenly, you feel wide awake. the sleepiness and appeal to go back to bed is long forgotten, now only eager to hear his voice. 

answering the call, his raspiness indicated he’d also just woken up. you hear his low voice, “hey baby.”

oh.

oh how you missed his voice, especially as the first thing to hear in the morning. if you closed your eyes, you could perfectly envision waking up by his side. tired eyes and soft giggles, as he pulls you close to him. you feel slightly pathetic over how your heart begins to hurt. it had only been a few weeks since you’d last seen him, yet the yearning was unbearable. you missed him. you always do when you’re apart, but recently it has been worse. your skin itched for his, lonely nights spent counting down the minutes until the season would be over and he’d be coming back home. 

“hey you,” trying to sound as awake as you can, stifiling a yawn that wants to escape you. he must not realize how late it is on your end. sitting up, you pinch yourself a few times to become more alert. you manage out a somewhat energetic, “everything okay?”

“yeah, everythings okay over here.” his voice is softer than usual, sadder if anything. he pauses for a moment, you can feel his hesitation before speaking. soon enough he whispers his confession, uncertain and slightly embarrassed. you might have missed it if you weren’t hanging on to every word he was saying. “I just really miss you.” 

your heart aches even more, if possible. “i miss you, too.”

“like, really bad y/n,” he’s always struggled with properly articulating his feelings. he prefers to affirm his love for you with simple, small acts and sweet, shy touches. telling you his true feelings always resulted in him turning a blushing and stuttering mess. therefore, you know how much this must really be affecting him, for him to outwardly say this. your heart breaks as he goes on, “do you know how much it sucks to wake up and not have you right next to me? it’s horrible.”

you do know, you always feel like that in his absence. 

“i know, my love.” you sit up, trying to wipe away the weariness from your eyes. “but we’ll be together soon, yeah?”

“soon.” he confirms, it’s the only promise that's managed to keep him sane. 

hoping to keep him on the line and distracted from the ungodly hour he woke you up, you ask him about what he has planned for the day. its meaningless talk, really. he goes on about the scheduled training and new tricks they’ve been working on, occasionally complaining about the team's current slump. once in a while you hum, letting him know you're attentive to every word he’s saying. yet you’re more focused on how soothing his voice was, it was all warmth and safeness to you.

still clueless of the time, he asks what your plans are. you begin to mumble about the exams and work you have planned for tomorrow- well, for today. you too, in return, complain of how exhausted uni life has been treating you and the endless pile of assignments you can never seem to finish. 

your error is droning on about how tiring it all is, because it just makes you revert back to your drowsy state. you don’t even realize when your words begin to die off and a rather large yawn breaks loose.

“y/n? are you falling asleep?” christian frowns. he had been too wrapped up in the horrible mood he had woken up in, he hadn’t thought of the wretched time difference. “wait, what time is it?” 

“uhm,” your hesitation lasts too long for his liking. instantly, it all clicks for him.

“fuck”, he groans. “it’s the middle of the night, isn’t it?”

“no.”

deny deny deny. 

if he realized it was so fucking late, he’d send you back to sleep. that was the worst fate he could condemn you to, you were sure of it. with him training all day and the drastic time difference, moments to properly talk were rare. you weren't going to give up this precious, stolen time with him. your scarce phone calls consisted of quick recounts of what you'd both done that day and gentle whispers of how much you’d missed each other. too soon, one of you would have to hang up to either get started on your day while the other had to unwind from their day already spent. 

you didn’t care how childish you sounded, you weren’t going to let him make you go to sleep. he couldn't make you! 

“y/n.” he was much more serious, more stern. when he got like this, you liked to tease him, calling it his ‘captain voice’. that’d usually leave him with reddened cheeks and arguments long forgotten.

it comes out more of a question, then an assurance. “I was already awake?”  

“y/n.” he repeats. yeah, it was a long shot that he’d believe that. 

you mock him, “christian.” 

you hear him begin to huff out his disapproval of your childish antics. much to your dismay, another damned yawn escapes you. no point in trying to win now, you rest your head back on the pillow and accept your defeat. you sigh, “okay, I was asleep.”

he makes a noise that sounds like a mixture of a disappointed groan and a victorious ‘hmph’. 

oh my sweet boy, how I miss you. 

“i’m so sorry,” he’s sputtering out apologies faster than you can try to assure him it’s all okay. “I was dreaming of you and then I woke up and you weren’t here. I felt horrible. I needed to hear your voice before I went insane. I called without thinking, i’m so sorry I woke you. go back to sleep, please.”

your reply is automatic, “no.”

“yes.” he tries (and fails) to reason with you, “you just told me how busy you’re going to be in the morning!”

“you can’t make me!” you argue.

“y/n.”

“so i’ve been called.”

“go back to sleep,” he tries again. you’re tempted to do it just because it’s him asking you. you would do anything he’d ask of you, it's quite humiliating how you’re putty in his hands. no, you have to stand your ground. you had missed him too much and you weren’t ready to say your goodbyes. back to his shy state, “i’m now very embarrassed that I called.”

that irks something in you. you’re stupidly obsessed with him, you’d go days without sleeping if it meant you could always talk to him. the fact that he doesn’t get that offends you quite a bit. if he’s embarrassed over how much he misses you, then you should be utterly humiliated. 

“christian,” your voice comes out harder than you’d planned. “listen to me.”

instantaneously, his protest had stopped and the line had gone silent. you pull the phone away from your face, unsure if he’d hung up to make you go back to your unwanted slumber. no, the call was still connected. putting the phone back to your ear, you barely caught his faint, “yeah?”

“i’m glad you called.” suddenly, you feel as shy as you imagined he did. you also struggle to express your feelings but you’re desperate to keep him on the call, not wanting to part ways yet. “i’ve missed you terribly.”

another pause, “really?”

“I can’t believe you’d even question it,” you utter in disbelief. “of course idiot, ‘m always missing you.”

“i’m not questioning it!” all the clatter on his end of the line has stopped. you’d assumed he was getting ready to leave for training and now you were both left in silence. it takes him a few seconds to gather his thoughts and words. eventually, “i’m sorry, i’m just in my head right now. have i told you how much this distance sucks?”

“i know, my love” the urge to hold him and kiss him is borderline pathetic. trying harder to distract him from the sad thoughts and prior argument, you have to think fast. you drop your voice a tad lower. you try your best to sound as alluring as possible, “that’s why we should really take advantage of the time we have right now. c'mon, think of the fun things we could do at this late, late hour.”

you begin to mumble half-hearted details of what you had in mind, yet christian hums his disapproval.

“y/n, stop trying to seduce me.” the ‘captain voice’ reappears. “it’s only late for you and you’re about to go back to sleep, or else.” 

it’s a teasing threat. you both can’t deny the smiles you’re fighting as the conversation unravels. scolding words but you know him, this was your usual banter. 

“oh, yeah?” you counter back. “what are you going to do when you’re thousands of miles away, huh? and like i’ve said countless times, i’m not even tired!” 

“you yawned three times as you told me ‘all the filthy things’ you wanted to do to me, i’m positive you’re tired.”

“oh baby, I think you need to get your hearing checked because I was not yawning.” you scoff, scolding yourself for getting caught. your brain fumbles trying to think of a good comeback. you blurt the first thing that comes to mind, “that's just how I breathe.”

“then you’re the one who needs to go get checked because thats some weird fucking breathing.”

you snort, “has anyone ever told you how good of a flirt you are?”

“no,” he deadpans, the captain voice more present than ever.

“hmm, I wonder why. should we, maybe, try to figure out why that is?” 

“y/n,” he’s not letting you sidetrack him again. “please, go to sleep.”

you whine once more, “but I wanna keep talking to you.” 

“i know, pretty girl but you have to sleep.”

you feel yourself losing this fight. trying to find some common ground, “will you stay on the call if I go to sleep?”

christian weighs his options, “promise to actually go to sleep?”

“promise to keep talking?” you counter back.

“if i promise, will you stop answering my questions with a question?”

you force yourself to hold back your laughter, “will you?”

he laughs and you’re unashamedly proud that you’re the cause of it. you’re sure you hear him call you a ‘smart ass’ but he swiftly denies it. 

much to your delight, christian begins to tell you an in depth play by play of their last game and how he thought they could improve. half of you wants to fight the sleepiness and continue listening to his rambles, but the sane part of you begs for some needed rest. you don’t even notice when you drift off, slipping back into dreams of the next time you’ll see christian. 

meanwhile, christian chatters on, even after you’ve fallen asleep. as he gathers his things to leave, he talks about everything and nothing. he tells you about how mason gave up on learning chess within the first ten minutes of christian trying to teach him. he tells you about how he found a new restaurant for the both of you to try next time you visit. the whole drive to the bridge, he recounts funny things that had happened with the guys and the latest gossips he knew you liked hearing about. he even managed into sneaking in a few, shy ‘i love yous’. as he went on and on, he knew you’d want to hear this again, once conscious, but he didn’t mind. he’d happily repeat himself a million times for you. 

-

he’s gotten even more handsome, you’re sure of it. you hadn’t thought it was possible but here he was, in all his glory. big brown eyes and now close enough to chart the freckles across his cheeks. those stupid phone calls and banter don’t measure up to the way he’s looking at you right now.

he had told you there was no need to pick him up from the airport, that you shouldn’t subject yourself to the hassle. clearly you went against his wishes, tackling him as soon as you had sights on him. that's how you were now, pressed flush against him, arms entangled around each other with promises of never letting go. 

“hey baby,” he whispers, lips pressed to your ear. “lets go home, yeah?”

instead of replying, your wrapped arms give him a gentle squeeze. unaware of the few curious glances directed towards the pair of you, you wonder if it’s physically possible to get any closer to him. 

“i’m never leaving your side again.” you mumble, face pressed to his chest. you try to peek up a glance at him, looking away immediately when you see his heavy gaze already on you. why does he have to look at me like that? it makes me feel like i’m on fire. slightly shaking your head, “i’m serious, one day they’re going to have to pry my corpse from yours.”

his dimple is more prominent than ever, “y/n, you really need to stop trying to seduce me.”

you both laugh, basking in each other's presence. christian presses a kiss to your hair, reaffirming how much he had missed you. his left arm never unwrapping from your waist, even when you begin to walk to the car.  

it’s a quick drive from the airport to your shared home. after unpacking and dinner and intimate touches were shared, you’d found yourselves laid in bed. your head resting on his chest, your fingers were mindlessly tracing the outlines on his tattooed arm. 

christian lets out a content sigh, “you have no idea how much i’ve missed this, missed you.” 

“i missed you more.”

after the busy evening you had just spent, it’s no surprise when you see him begin to snooze off. you don’t mind, you finally had him in arms reach and reassurance that you had many days to have the conversations that had been too scant. 

 

you murmur, soft and quietly, “go to sleep, baby.”

“hey,” he barely peeks one eye open, the corner of his lip threatening to quirk up. “that's my line.”

you roll your eyes, giving him one final kiss to his bare shoulder “night, i love you.”

instead of responding, he wraps his arms around your waist and flips you to your side. you let out a surprised yelp but nonetheless, your body automatically finds the perfect way to fit with his. instantly, he pulls you close to him, leaving a delicate kiss on your earlobe. you barely hear his low, “i love you too.”

after that, his faint snores are all that is heard. you follow in his steps, eyes growing heavier by the seconds. yes, sleeping is much better when christians voice rings right next to you and not through a phone.

feedback is greatly appreciated please!

[antimonyandthyme]

my god your carcar tlou au still haunts me on my sleepless nights, carlos the old guy who's seen some shit, to put it mildly, forced to depend on himself to survive, knows he can't afford to be kind, to care, caring has already cost him so so much, but to hell with all that when he's just a man with a gentle heart, deeply buried may that heart be, he can't leave the kid behind, that's not even an option, there's something oddly sweet about carlos blaming his own softness on the ghost of charles, like he refuses to accept how much kindness there is locked in his own heart, and oscar, not exactly naive, but still with some of that youthful sincerity and hope to him, and carlos is so hungry for a little hope, and already a little insane about oscar, already prepared to throw his own body to the deadly horde if that kid will live another day... god i'm insane about them just as much as they are about each other

anon precisely precisely precisely he’ll never look at his own kindness in the eye he’ll blame the ghost of charles and max before he’ll acknowledge that he’s never been able to slam his heart shut

back when he travelled with charles and max he’d pick up stray dogs and people who needed help much to their chagrin and only stopped when what happened happened

then oscar happens and carlos goes absolutely not and then oscar buries a friend and carlos goes well i can’t leave him now can i charles would never forgive me

no lessons were learned! which becomes especially problematic if oscar carries the cure and everyone’s out to get him

[lcdrarry]

LCDrarry 2024 Round-Up Post | Week 5

On Sundays during our posting period, we won't post new works, instead you have time to catch up with the works that posted during the week and hopefully leave lovely comments for our creators.

Happy reading, commenting and sharing! ;)

~Your LCDrarry Mods

PS: Please have a look at the author notes and tags on AO3 for additional information. Thank you!

PPS: Please share far and wide! Thank you!!

***

Fic

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Black Sheep

Prompt: "Shaun the Sheep", 2007-2020 Prompted by: Anonymous Author: Anonymous Word Count: 10,808 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: smut, dirty talk, praise kink, soft d/s dynamics, begging

Summary: “You know, Potter, maybe all you need to win is a little—incentive, let’s say.” “An incentive?” Harry asks, his interest piqued. He takes a step closer to the fence, and then another one, until he’s standing so close that he can smell the intoxicating scent of Malfoy’s expensive cologne. “Shall we say that if you win, you can have whatever your heart desires?” Malfoy replies with a smile. “Anything.”

Read it now on AO3.

***

Jackknife To The Heart

Prompt: "Mad Max: Furiosa", 2024, George Miller Prompted by: Anonymous Author: Anonymous Word Count: 11,723 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Gunfights

Summary: Draco licked his lips, slow and sensual. He climbed over Harry’s lap and slid down onto his knees. “Keep making love to me, darling,” he said, gazing up at Harry, something starry in his eyes; and then he pulled down Harry’s pants and took his cock in his mouth.

Harry sucked in a breath, threw the shifter into gear, and drove.

Read it now on AO3.

***

the beating of our hearts (is the only sound)

Prompt: "Pacific Rim", 2013, Guillermo del Toro Prompted by: @stavromulabetaaa (stavromulabeta on ao3) Author: Anonymous Word Count: 12,675 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: canon (Pacific Rim) creature grossness

Summary: Do you want awesome, kickass fights between giant robots and aliens??!?!?

Go watch Pacific Rim.

This is a story about two flawed men who fall in love during an apocalypse.

Read it now on AO3.

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Draco Malfoy's New Guide to Old-Fashioned Dating

Prompt: "How to Lose a Guy in 10 days", 2003, Donald Petrie Prompted by: @sleepstxtic Author: Anonymous Word Count: 52,377 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: Non-Consensual Drug Use

Summary: When Harry's job as an auror is threatened by his perceived negative attitude towards Death Eaters, he makes a desperate gamble with his boss to save it. Bring a Death Eater as his plus-one to the company holiday party. Unfortunately for him, there's only one person he can think of to ask...

Meanwhile, in order to save his best friend Pansy Parkinson from a terrible social fate, Draco Malfoy makes a bet with Pansy's mother. He believes that old-fashioned, traditional courting methods are the best way to repel, not attract, a potential suitor. Now, if only he can find a wizard who has no clue about those methods...

Read it now on AO3.

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A Ferret, a ScarHead, a Weasel, and a Baby

Prompt: "Three Men and a Baby", 1987, Leonard Nimoy & "Taken", 2008, Pierre Morel Prompted by: Anonymous Author: Anonymous Word Count: 91,420 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Angst, Anxiety, Epic Fight Scene(s), Canon-Typical Violence, Hand-to-Hand Combat, Blood, Muggle Weapons, References to Past Child Abuse, Abduction, Injuries

Summary: They say becoming a parent is an unparalleled, priceless joy. Draco Malfoy finds himself putting that theory to the test when the star witness in his dangerous illegal potions case entrusts him with a powerful wish: protect her newborn baby at all costs. Now, it's up to Draco to fulfill that wish despite the looming threat of criminals hunting for the child. To think, just the day before, he was fretting over his inappropriate feelings for his annoying, bespectacled git of a housemate—not the mechanics of changing nappies!

Thank Merlin it takes a village to raise a sack of flour, ah, child.

Read it now on AO3.

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Creator reveals are on 15 June.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Since Miraculous Ladybug is becoming for more mature audiences it should split povs between Marinette and Adrien. Its upsetting how Adrien has such a main character backstory yet he's not apart of it or a major character in the show even though he feels like it. It feels like he should be Marinette's costar but he's treated as some guy most of the time. I get that Marinette's the main character but still Adrien feels so wasted on. Honestly he kinda reminds me of Steven Universe. Dead mom, complex with not being entirely human, well meaning but absent dad(Gabriel's hearts was in the right place but just went down hill). Like when Adrien finds out about the whole sentimonster thing imagine the identity crisis he's gonna have. I also wonder what they're gonna do with Emilie. She's not dead anymore and she was the driving force for why Gabriel did what he did. I wonder if she's gonna be a good mom or if the fan theories are right and she's just as bad if not worse then Gabriel. Rose haunted the narrative because she was so important if it wasn't for her and her actions we probably wouldn't even have Steven Universe or the many momswap aus. But after Gabriel got all the Miraculouses Emilie felt kinda of forgotten and last minute when she was talked about.

Are there any other shows that you sometimes compare Miraculous too?

I don't think that Miraculous is aiming at more mature audiences now unless there was some announcement that I missed? If anything, I'm expecting season six to tone things back down because I'm guessing that it's going to be a soft reboot. New main villain, new animation style, new school, the signs are all there.

Shows rarely ever change their target audience like that. It's just too risky a move. You have to redo the marketing and somehow convey to parents that the show is no longer safe for their child as it's aimed at teens now. But anyone who wants a more serious show for teens isn't going to want to sit through the first five seasons which were not written like a serious show for teens, so the audience for this would be the small subsection of viewers who want to watch their childhood favorite get more serious.

While that's certainly a demographic, it's not the massive one you get when you stick to anyone ages five-and-up. Since five-and-up is also where the toy sales are and Miraculous has a lot of tie-in toys, it would be pretty wild if they abandoned that demographic at this point. I dug up an old tweet that I remembered seeing to give my warning some extra backing. For full context, this was in reply to a tweet asking if the writers consider the teen audience when writing the show:

[Image description: a tweet from the show's head writer reading "they are not the primary audience. The main target is kids 5 to 12 max. It doesn't mean we don't consider older audiences. But it means that whatever we write must not leave the kids behind."]

This tweet is admittedly over two years old and anything is technically possible, but I would strongly caution you against having expectations for more serious content unless you know something that I don't. The show was originally sold as to investors, distributors, and so on as a kids show and, unless they were able to renegotiate those agreements, it's going to stay a kids show.

I'd also caution you against assuming that Emilie is alive. I thought that was where the show went, too, but statements from the writers have made it pretty clear that Emilie is well and truly dead, which further supports my soft reboot theory. Bringing her back means a stronger tie to the previous seasons and you don't want that for a soft reboot.

Please don't read this as me praising that writing choice! I think it was stupid as hell to magically bring back Nathalie while killing off Emilie. They were both dying and only one of them is a domestic terrorist who actively chose death by knowingly using the broken Miraculous. The other is a Good And Pure Soul Who Was Too Perfect For This Cruel World (or, at least, that's what the show seems to want us to think). Plus, if you're going to use the wish, do something big! Change the status quo! But that's not how formula shows work so they probably couldn't do that.

Quick side note: this is my best guess as to why the leaked scripts indicated that Emilie was going to come back when season five ended the show. Series finales are usually allowed include elements that would ruin the formula if the show continued because the show isn't continuing. Season finales are not allowed to do that because the next season needs to stick to the same formula. When season five went from end-of-show to a mere end-of-season, that probably signed Emilie's death warrant. Sorry Adrien, no happy ending for you! Hope you like being an orphan!

Moving on!

In my opinion, it feels like they only used the wish to let Gabriel die and get rid of Emilie without it being too traumatic for the indented audience, but it's still basically a murder suicide being treated as a happy ending which is wild! At least it was a pretty one where the murderer and his victim ascended into the light?

We admittedly might see larger impacts from the wish next season as we don't explicitly know what the wish was, but have they ever let a season finale lead to something interesting? Not really, so I don't see why that would change now. I'm not even sure if Adrien's sentistatus is going to come up again. It should, but it may also just fizzle out because the writers don't know how to deal with it. The sentimonster thing is not the kind of plot point that you can handle in 20 minutes, especially when you have to include some sort of akuma fight, too. Bringing up the sentistuff would also complicate a soft reboot so, yeah, I have no idea if they're ever going to touch it again.

As far as recs for shows like Miraculous go, I'm afraid that you'll have to be a little more specific about what you're looking for because Miraculous is trying and failing to be a lot of things. If you want a duo show with a lot of banter, a badass female lead, and a goofy-but-narratively-important male lead, then I'd point to Kim Possible. If you want a team show with romantic undertones, then Teen Titans is a good pick. If you want identity shenanigans, magic, and romance, then American Dragon Jake Long might be worth checking out in spite of the very dated slang, though fair warning that one is enemies to lovers. It's done in a very fun way, but it's not a partner show like Miraculous kind of is and the romance is also not the main focus.

Part of the reason I was drawn to Miraculous is that shows about superheroes don't tend to have a strong romance element to them, so there aren't a ton of options for me to give you when it come to shows that fill a similar niche. However, if you're willing to go into the realms of fanfic, then you've got a wealth of options. Pretty much any property with secret identities will have fics about identity shenanigan romances. Love squares are nothing new. I've been reading them for years! I basically watched Twelfth Night when I was about eight and never looked back. Identity shenanigans or bust!

People will even bring them into fandoms that don't have any secret identities because identity shenanigans are really fun to play with! They make for some of the best romances. I'm sure that you can also find them in novels, but it's not something I've seen a lot of, so I mostly stick to fanfic for my identity shenanigan needs. That's where almost all my recs are from.

Should I do a fanfic plug to demonstrate what I mean? Yeah, why not. This baby deserves more readers and, if you like Miraculous, then you'll probably love this. (Seriously, if you read it, feel free to come talk to me about it. It's so good and also proof that I really am drawn to very specific tropes. What can I say other than I know what I like?)

We Didn't Start The Fire by ohhgingersnaps

Ava is all burned out, literally— she’s an exhausted JojaCo employee by daylight, and pyrokinetic superhero The Phoenix by moonlight, until she accidentally starts a fire at work and has to blame it on her superpowered alter-ego to avoid being discovered. The Phoenix is forced into early retirement, and with nothing else to lose, Ava moves to her grandfather’s old farm for a new start. Between restoring the farm, resolutely bottling all of her feelings, and trying to keep her powers under wraps, Ava has a lot on her plate. She’ll figure it out. Eventually. She hopes. Meanwhile, the hacker Memento, Phoenix’s good friend and confidant, is left to pick up the pieces alone after her sudden disappearance. He’s fully convinced that she didn’t start the fire, and he’s determined to discover the truth and clear her name... As long as he doesn’t fall for the pretty new farmer down the road, first. Part superhero AU, part mental health recovery arc, and part rom-com, topped with a generous serving of secret identity love square shenanigans, hurt/comfort, shameless flirting and banter, and dramatic irony.

I've mentioned before that I don't like OC main characters. Video games are the one exception to that rule. I'm really not big on reader inserts (no judgement, just personal preference), so when I read fanfic for a video game with a self-insert type main character, I'm looking to read about people's fully developed OCs, but I also want a good deal of the focus to be on the game's characters as they're the only reason I'm looking for stuff to read. That's what this fic is and I love it!

I also wouldn't normally rec fanfic for properties outside of Miraculous since this is specifically a Miraculous blog, but this is Stardew Valley fanfic, which is why I picked it over fic from other, more complex properties. If you don't know that game, it's a farming sim whose cast is developed enough for you to get attached to them, but who don't have a ton of depth, so you can read this sucker without having touched the game because there's no deep lore here. The game dev is apparently pretty open about the fact that he kept lots of things about the characters ambiguous so you could read things like their relationships and ages in whatever way makes you happy. Only prep work I might recommend is reading the character summaries from the game's wiki and you'd only need to do that for the named characters.

As I said above, fics like this are where I get my more-serious-story-with-identity-shenanigan-included itch scratched and are what I'd recommend looking for in either fanfic or original fiction form if that's what you like as TV shows just don't seem to have this kind of content, probably because TV shows often draw plot lines out to maximize views while novel-style stories generally have a clear end goal, which is why it can be hard for TV romances to feel satisfying. However, there are certainly a ton of TV shows that I haven't watched, so if anyone has recs for anon, then feel free to drop a comment or give this a reblog with your rec list.

[f1bordeaux]

If You Cared (part 2) | mv1

It's been years since you've indulged in a vacation. What better time is there than summer? Your family, the beach house in Italy-it seems perfect. But, for things to be just like good old times, your family needs to invite his. So of course you are having mixed feelings as the boy who broke your heart re-enters your life like nothing happened. Warnings: None Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader Word count: 2.2+k Poetry style | Story style A/n: Here is part 2! The angst literally hasn't began yet there is so much more to come you might hate me by the end of this lol srry ;) Also! If you want to be tagged in future parts, let me know! Part One|Part Two|Part Three|Part Four|Part Five

“How are you feeling?”

You don’t turn around, already aware of who is speaking to you. Instead, you remain sat on the edge of the pool, feet lightly swinging through the water. There is a lot of noise coming from the house, people talking, laughing, sharing a drink or two. Outside, however, it is quiet. The comotion becomes a background noise that is masked by the chirping of crickets and the ocean waves only a few kilometers away. It is calm, it is dark, it is peaceful.

Mia sat down next to you, keeping her knees tucked into her chest. “I’m fine.” You say.

“Dinner was-”

“Tense.” You answer for her. And it was. Dinner was a never ending slew of compliments to Max, your family praising him and his family bragging about him. Did he deserve the comments made towards him? Absolutely. He was a phenomenal driver, something you couldn’t even deny. Max knew what he was doing on the track like it was second nature. Maybe it was second nature to him. But, all you could think about was the boy who left you. The boy who turned his back so quickly that he couldn’t even hear you cry. The boy who took everything from you just to disappear a few years later.

“Yeah.” Mia said. “Tense.”

Silence came quickly after that, the two of you just taking in the atmosphere around you. The sun had long set, the heat had long gone. The pool lights casted a turquoise glow over the backyard. It was beautiful. You remembered running across the tiles as a kid, jumping into the pool at late hours of the night. Max and you would be playing together and Mia and Victoria would be on their own. Life was good then. Life was simple.

The patio door slid open, unbeknown to you. Mia turned to look, however, eyes going wide when she saw who it was. With her lips flattened to a line, she rested a hand on your shoulder before standing up. “Try not to ruin your own summer, y/n.”

With that she was gone, her body being replaced by another. “Care if I sit with you?”

Again, you knew the voice before you saw the face. Max lowered himself to the ground, sticking his feet in the water right next to you. He was so close that if you moved over, just an inch, your thigh would be flush against his. You wonder if he’s just as warm as he used to be. You wonder if his skin feels just as soft as it once had. You think of a lot of things as Max kicks his feet through the water.

“We haven't had a chance to talk-”

“Since you left?”

He sniffles, leaning back on his palms. “I was going to say since I got here.”

“That works too.” You say. There are two ways to proceed. You can either cause a huge comotion, letting him know that-hey, maybe you were not over him. Maybe you still envied him for making you fall in love with him and then disappearing off the face of the earth. Maybe you guys could have made it work but he didn’t even bother trying. Or, you could do as you told yourself a week ago and move on. Let yourself have a good summer. Let the hurt come in waves but dont show it. Maybe you can outgrow it this year. “How was your flight?”

He looks at you, almost confused-like. It wasn’t what he was expecting you to say. “Uh, good. The Florence airport was packed but once we got over here everything was fine.”

You nod, looking down at the water. “Good, good.”

“How’s work been? I hear you work at a museum in New York.”

“Yeah, the Metropolitan Museum of Art.”

“Wow,” He shakes his head in approval. You don't need his approval, but you wonder what he really thinks of your job. Does he think you wasted your life? Does he think that your job is cool? At least you didn’t work at a McDonalds, right? “That sounds fancy. I can’t say I’ve been.”

“Have you ever been to New York in general?”

“No.”

You chuckle. It feels wrong to do so, but you can't help the small laugh that brushes past your lips. His dry humor is still intact you notice. What else is still the same about him? You haven’t heard him laugh yet, so you wonder if it sounds the same as before-boyish and cute. Does he still play FIFA like no tomorrow? Is his favorite color still blue?

“Do you remember jumping into the pool at like midnight as kids?” His hoarse voice cuts your train of thought in two. “Your mom would yell at us because she wanted to go to bed but now she had to make sure we showered.”

“I was just thinking about that earlier.” You want to slap yourself across the face as you say that sentence. You were thinking about him? There goes your ‘I dont give a fuck about him anymore’ deminer. 

But he smiles, exhaling through his nose as he turns to look at you. “Where’d the time go?”

“I wish I knew, Max.” You say, pulling your legs from the pool. Slowly, you walk to the back door, the orange glow from the inside light painting your skin shades of golds and browns. You look almost like an angel, like a God. Max notices it. Max notices a lot of things. “Goodnight.”

He sighs from behind you. “Goodnight, y/n.”

That night after a long, cold shower, you sit at the desk in your room, looking over the backyard and pool you had just conversed at. Your palm rests on a handle to one of the top drawers, and you fight yourself on whether or not to open it. You know what's in there. You know what you’re getting yourself into. But you don’t know if you want that pain or not. It was like Pandora’s box. If you got sucked in-which you knew was about to happen-there would be no escape. You would be heartbroken all over again.

Fuck it.

You pulled the drawer open, the contents shifting forward. There were photos-hundreds of photos-and two letters. There were two pens, a pink one and a blue one, there was a small fabric square, and there were a pair of glasses. Everything, save the photos, belonged to Max. The letters, you knew, would tear you apart to read. So, you pushed those aside, opting to pick up a small stack of photos. On the back in Sharpie ink they said, 2008. You and him were 10. Your birthday wasn’t until winter-his in fall only two months apart from yours.

Pulling the rubberband away, you studied the photos. You, Mia, Luca and Victoria in the pool. You, Max, Luca and Mia eating dinner at some restaurant. Max and Luca on bicycles. Victoria and you hugging on the beach. The sunset over the backyard. Max and you, lying together on the couch tucked underneath six or so blankets, fast asleep. His arm was around you, your cheeks pressed against one another. You smiled to yourself as you felt your throat closing up. “This sucks.” You whispered.

It did suck. You just simply couldn’t understand why Max didn’t want to try. It’s not like you guys were neighbors at the time. You only saw one another during the summer, but you were still friends during the rest of the year. Why would any of that change just because he was getting popular in driving? The only obvious reason was because he didn’t want you around. He didn’t want you. It could have worked if he would have tried. But he didn’t, so why should you spend your summer trying to mend the bridge he burned?

You threw all the photos back into the drawer, slamming it shut. You turned off the lamp desk and walked to your bed in the pitch black. Whatever was meant to happen, would happen. With or without Max.

-

“You’re sure you don't want to come?” Mia asks through your cracked open door. “Max-”

“She said no.” Luca pushes her aside, sticking his head in your room. Your attention was buried in your phone, mindlessly scrolling through some form of social media. You couldn’t see Luca’s childish grin or Mia’s worrying features. “I’ll bring you back some waffles or something, y/n.”

“Whatever, Luca.” You responded. He stuck his tongue out, making a spitting noise before slamming your door shut so hard you were afraid it would fall off the hinges. “Luca!”

It was far too early in the morning to be dealing with your little brother. Actually, it was never a good time to be dealing with your little brother. He’d woken you up, close to four am, to ask if you wanted to go grab breakfast and watch the sunset. You declined his offer, opting to stay in bed just a little longer. Plus, if everyone was going, Max was going. The last thing you wanted was to watch the sunrise with Max. So, you hid under the covers for a little longer, feeling the ceiling fan drag cold air on your exposed skin.

You heard the front door close from downstairs, a signal that you were finally alone. Slowly, you rose from your bed, taking long strides across the room. Just because you didn’t want to watch the sunset with everyone didn’t mean you wanted to miss out on it. There would be a perfect view from the backyard or from the beach only a quick walk away. You sombered through the house, a soft, chilling blue being cast through the windows. You loved this time of day, before the sun was up, before the heat settled into the ground, before the world was really active. It was so serene.

“Good morning.”

You paused at your spot on the base of the steps. Max stood in the kitchen, a glass of water in his hand. “You didn’t-why didn’t you-”

He shrugged as you struggled to speak. “I thought you were going. I didn’t want to bother.”

Guilt trip me, perfect. “Max, you shouldn’t base your itinerary on what I’m doing.” You said.

“So then why didn’t you go?”

“Fair point.”

He laughed, bringing his water to his lips. Yeah, you thought. He still has the same boyish laugh. “Come,” He said, holding his hand across the kitchen island. You stepped closer, although hesitantly. “Let's watch the sunrise and hash out whatever this is.”

Face your fears? Speak to Max about the problem at hand? Explain to him that you aren't over the loss of his presence in your life? Your stomach churned at the idea. Your stomach churned even more when you realized that you were only wearing a large tshirt and some underwear that was barely covered by the hem of the shirt. Instantly, your cheeks heated up, the back of your hand going to cool one side down. God you should have gone to breakfast.

Max raised his eyebrows, closing his hand before reopening it. “Well?”

“Right, yeah, sorry.” You said, grabbing a blanket before grabbing his hand. He knew you looked good-effortlessly good. You had just gotten out of bed and still you looked perfect. Your lips were plump, your eyelashes were so long and dark, your skin was glowing. He thought you looked better now than any dolled-up girl he’d met in Monaco. You looked so good just existing, but he didn’t think he’d be able to say that to your face.

The two of you walked outside, sitting in the patio chairs facing the ocean. He cleared his throat, turning to look at you as you draped the blanket over your legs. “I’m sorry.”

“Max-”

“You deserved better. I had no right to make you fall in love with me and then just go. I knew I’d leave so I should have never ruined what special bond you and I had. I’m so sorry, y/n.”

Your jaw was practically on the floor as he spoke. Where was this coming from? What prompted him to say this? “I-I’m speechless.”

“I don’t expect you to forgive me, but can we have a few weeks that are similar to our childhood? Just me and you doing dumb stuff that we shouldn’t be doing? Making memories that we’ll tell people for decades?” He looks right into your eyes as he speaks, something he never really does. There is this soft sparkle in his eyes, this soft dazzling glow. He looks amazed, he looks taken aback. He looks so-pretty? God, the way his voice was dancing through your ears, the way his hair looked-still messy from getting out of bed-the way his hands fidgeted with one another, the way a faint blush dusted his cheeks-Max looked so desirable right now. You wanted to reach over and kiss him, to feel his warm, plush lips on your own.

You forced yourself to look away, afraid of what would pursue if you didn't. The sun had partly peaked over the oceanline. Give him a chance, you told yourself. What's the worst that could happen? He knows he fucked up and wont make that mistake again. Neither will you. “Yeah,” You finally say. He provides a relieved smile. “Yeah, let’s have a good summer, Max.”

Continuation tags:@hanversace

[dearmura]

hii:) can u write something like riki x f!reader when they just listening to music at 3am with riki’s airpods!! like clam music and they just hugging and talking to each other with soft voice not to wake someone up. that idea popped up in my head while listening to cold by sign crushes motorist (it’s really nice I promise!!) and it really reminded me of riki and his vibe!! thank you~~🖤

midnight blues

warnings: not proofread

pairings: non-idol! Ni-Ki × fem! reader

genre: fluff

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

groaning softly as your eyes flutter open, you slowly become aware of your surroundings, brought awake by the soft sound of music in your ears almost too low to hear. feeling the figure holding you tighten his grip, your hear a slight shift in the pillow beside you

"I'm sorry, did I wake you up, angel?" riki whispered worryingly, placing a soft kiss on your forehead before tangling your legs in his. shaking your head dismissively, you utter a quiet 'its okay' before leaning into his touch, comforted by the warmth of this body heat

you try to form a sentence but the sound is muffled by your face buried in the crook of his neck, refusing to leave his embrace. giggling softly at your clinginess, he utters a teasing 'hm?,' wanting you to reiterate. as if physically paining you to do so, you peel yourself away from his chest for a second, meeting his eyes

"why are you still up?" you mumble, voice still not fully recovered from your previous slumber. you nuzzle into him further as you wait for his answer, earning a chuckle out of the boy

"dunno, just been a little stressed, that's all" he tries to brush off, making the whole ordeal seem so miniscule. with the clock reading 3 am, you whip your head to the boy

"ki? it's 3 am, what do you mean that's all?" there's a hint of worry in your voice as you speak, you hand coming up to his face to caress his cheek. he leans into the touch

"s-nothin princess. jus wanna stay li-this for now" he slurred his words a little, almost drunk off the attention you were giving him. not wanting to press further, you let it go, knowing he would open up to you about it sooner or later, just not right now. hearing the same soft melody that woke you up before, you change the topic

"can I listen too?" you ask, eyes switching to the airpod he took out at the beginning of he conversation, ensuring he was giving you his full, undivided attention

"of course, angel" he says in his classic deep voice that never fails to make your heart skip a beat. handing you the airpod in his hand, you place it in your ear before he snakes his hand to the back of your head, gently bringing your head to his chest

*now playing: it's you - max*

feeling his fingers tangle in your hair, he softly massages your scalp, making you let out a satisfied hum. as the chorus rolled around, he slightly pulled away, now inches away from your face, softly singing the lyrics

"it's you~ loving's so easy to do~" eyeing you pure adoration, you can't help but giggle, hiding your face as you feel his eyes on you. he chuckles before taking your hands

"why so shy, angel? can't a boyfriend express how much he loves his pretty girl?" as he speaks, he lifts your chin to meet his eyes. slowly, he leans in, letting your lips meet. you hope he doesn't notice the flush that comes across your face. he'll probably tease you about it later but for now he ignores it

pulling away, you both smile as you rest your head on his chest, lulled back to sleep with the soft thump of his heartbeat. smiling fondly at your sleepy state, he can't help but grow drowsy himself, sleeping happily knowing you were

fin

an: so sorry I took so long to post, I've been a little busy:') I hope you guys enjoy! Loved this prompt btw!!