Hi, Sorry To Interrupt Your Scrolling, But I Just Wanted To Remind You That You Are Beautiful And Loved.

BTS reacting to you being their parents’ bias.

pairing: bts x idol!reader fandom: bts warnings: language genre: crack ; fluff word count: 730+

a/n: thank you for your request my love, I hope you like it ♥

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Hold On to Me

Oscar Piastri x Reader

Summary: When your relationship with Oscar begins to strain under the weight of distance and silence, a harsh argument threatens to break it completely.

You don’t remember when the silence started feeling heavier than the words.

It had been creeping in slowly.

Missed calls. Short replies. Half-hearted kisses when he came home from long flights, and how he always seemed tired, too tired to talk, too tired to try. And maybe you were tired too. Of being second to the schedule. Of pretending it didn’t hurt.

Until one night, you broke.

“You forgot my call again,” you said softly, eyes on the cold dinner waiting between you.

Oscar didn’t look up from his phone. “I was in a meeting. I told you it might run late.”

You stared at him. “Do you even want to be in this anymore?”

That made him pause.

He looked up, defensive. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I feel like I’m dating a ghost, Oscar,” you snapped, heart pounding. “You’re here, but you’re not with me. I don’t need the trophies. I don’t need the glam. I just need you. And I don’t even know if you want to be needed anymore.”

He stood too fast, his chair scraping across the floor. “That’s not fair. You know what this career takes—”

“I’m not asking you to give it up,” you interrupted. “I’m asking you to see me.”

And maybe it was too much. Because he just looked at you like he didn’t know where to begin.

So you walked away.

Just for the night.

But then the next morning came. And he was already gone, on a flight, off to another city, another circuit. You didn’t say goodbye. You didn’t hear from him for days.

Until race day.

You sat alone in your apartment, watching from the couch because you couldn’t not.

Because even when you were angry, you loved him. A

nd halfway through the race, your breath caught in your throat when he spun.

A miscalculation.

A hit with the barrier. Smoke. Sirens.

And suddenly, nothing else mattered.

You were on the next flight before you even had time to pack properly.

The track, the hospital, it all blurred. He had a concussion. Some bruised ribs. Nothing life-threatening, thank God. But still, you sat by his bedside like he might disappear if you blinked.

When his eyes fluttered open, his voice rasped, “You came.”

Your throat tightened. “Of course I did.”

He looked at you like he was trying to memorise the moment.

“I thought… I lost you,” he whispered.

You reached for his hand. “You almost did.”

There was a long pause. One filled with regret and something heavier.

“I’ve been stupid,” he said. “I thought the best way to handle the pressure was to shut everything else out. But you’re not everything else. You’re everything.”

Tears welled in your eyes before you could stop them. You leaned down, pressed your forehead to his.

“No more shutting me out,” you whispered. “No more doing this alone.”

He squeezed your hand, his grip just strong enough to make you believe in tomorrow again.

Hey could you do fic for Kimi Raikkonen with wife reader during his time at Ferrari? She was stealing his sunglasses like she crash his interviews just for it and he's not doing anything about it. Even when he's wearing it at night like at Singapore GP. So he's got a matching one for her. And they rocked together. Just something fluff and cute. Add something else to it if it's not right. Tag me later!! Thanks :))

NOT YOURS, OURS|K.RÄIKKÖNEN

Pairing; Kimi Räikkönen x Wife!reader

Summary; In which you’re constantly stealing your husband’s sunglasses so he gets you your own matching ones.

Warnings; none.

Author’s note; take a shot everytime the word sunglasses is mentioned.

F1 Master List

Kimi was constantly wearing sunglasses, it was his signature look and it wasn’t very often you’d find him without them, even if he wasn’t wearing them, they’d be there resting on his cap or hanging from his collar.

Even now, as the two of you stood at the entrance of the garage, watching as the rain fell down into the track, wrapped up in his arms as he wrapped the edges of the coat he was wearing around you to keep you warm, he had his sunglasses on.

Not bothering to fight your temptations you pulled back causing his grip on you to loosen and you reached up, taking the sunglasses from his face and putting them on your own.

He looked at you with a raised eyebrow but you simply smiled and posed for him. "How do I look?"

Kimi smiled and shook his head at your silliness. "Beautiful." He replied.

Your smile brightened at his words, stomach fluttering from his compliment as you leaned back into his embrace.

You couldn’t see a thing from the darkness of the sky and the sunglasses mixed together, you didn’t know how he walked about like this but that was a question for another day.

Kimi was out unwillingly doing some interviews so you made the decision to go and roam around the track with absolutely no destination in mind when you saw him in the middle of the track doing a sit down interview with Jenson for Sky Sports.

You smirked as you walked closer. Approaching him from behind, you stepped into frame and wrapped your arms around him to remove the sunglasses from his face, catching him by surprise but as soon as he noticed it was you he relaxed.

Watching as you placed them on your own face, giving him a smile and a cheeky wave before walking away, leaving him shaking his head at you.

"What was that all about?" Jenson asked, laughing.

"Bwoah, i don’t know." Kimi shrugged.

You were in Singapore and the sky was pitch black but the track was lit up reading for the race to begin, Kimi was standing in the pit lane and even though the sun went down long ago, his sunglasses remained on his face as he spoke to his race engineer.

Walking to to him, you didn’t hesitate to reach up and take them from him, the man not even flinching as he continued with his conversation as though nothing had even happened.

You smiled as you placed them on your own face, the dark shades blocking everything but the lights on the track.

When he was finished talking he turned to you with a pointed look. "Those are mine."

You shook your head. "Not yours. Ours."

Kimi hummed. "This is becoming a habit now."

"I like them." You simply told him.

You were in Qatar and the sun was glaring down on you causing you to scowl in annoyance, looking around with your hand raised above your eyes, you spotted your husband.

He was dressed as he always was, red cap, red shirt, black shorts, black sunglasses. You walked towards him with a spring in your step.

Just when you were close enough to reach up and grab his sunglasses from his face, Kimi grabbed your hand to stop you.

As a pout began to form on your face, your husband simply shook his head and reached into his pocket. In his hand was a pair of sunglasses, an exact replica of the ones that were currently resting on his nose and under them to you.

“You have no reason to steal mine now,” he huffed but there was the slightest hint of a smile growing on his lips.

You took the sunglasses from him and placed them on, not acknowledging his slight dig at your antics.

“How do I look?” You asked him the same question you did a couple races ago.

“Perfect, as always,” he responded simply.

Thunderstorms

Namjoon x reader

Words: 391

Thunderstorms remind me of you

You who was there on the rainy days

Overpowering the dreary, mood

You sparked and brought light to the sky

I was afraid of you at first

But at some point, you became comforting to me

You were my Thunderstorm

There was a thunderstorm, outside. The clouds were rolling, the rain was pouring down accompanied by the flashes of lightning. Y/N was scared of storms since they were young. The flashes of lightning, the loud noises, and the howling wind all scared them...

But now they were at ease... Thunderstorms became pleasant for them since they met Namjoon; he was their knight in shining armor that protected them like a shield from the arrows of what they were so terrified of.

If it had been their younger self they would have run and hidden somewhere, turning herself into a ball waiting for all the commotions outside to stop. But now thunderstorms didn’t scare them... it reminded them of his love .

Y/N was scared at first, questioning themself for getting into a relationship with a busy idol. But Namjoon reassured them and talked them out of all the insecure thoughts that plagued Y/N's mind. He was there for them all the times they were insecure, when they were questioning themself, or when they were stressing about work and Y/N was there for him when he was insecure about not being a perfect leader or a boyfriend, when he was not getting any inspiration to write or compose, or when he was stressed of everything happening in life. They were like two pieces of a puzzle that fitted each other perfectly to make a complete picture. They completed each other by filling each other’s incompleteness.

Now they were both on their couch cuddling comfortably while Namjoon read a book aloud for Y/N to listen. They were both happy in each other’s embrace, sharing their warmth, sharing their love…

Rolling, Rolling, Red Bull

Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader

Summary… When the Drive to Survive crew shows up to film a behind-the-scenes look at Max Verstappen’s life off track, Y/N is less than thrilled to be in the spotlight. But between sarcastic interviews, soft domestic moments, and a now-viral deleted scene involving a jar of pesto, the world gets a glimpse of a Max they’ve never seen before. Boyfriend-coded. Cat-dad certified. And very, very soft for her.

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy! I’ve been kinda M.I.A. & irregular on my posting but I have been out of town for the last two week so I’ve been writing on my phone and it has been a little difficult.

I hope you guys enjoy this story and feel free to donate on my Ko-Fi, maybe that way I can buy a better computer and write more consistently for you guys.

like, comment, reblog, enjoy (:

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Y/N was halfway through brushing her teeth when Max knocked on the bathroom door.

“They’re here,” he said, muffled through the wood. “The Drive to Survive guys.”

She spat into the sink. “Tell them to come back never.”

Max laughed, leaning against the doorframe in joggers and a Red Bull hoodie, his hair still wet from the shower. “You said yes last night.”

“I was half-asleep and you bribed me with stroopwafels.”

He pushed the door open and gave her the most annoyingly charming grin. “And yet, here we are.”

⸻

The Netflix crew had set up in their living room, pretending the chaos of wires and camera angles was “low-key.” Max greeted them like old friends, casual and cool, while Y/N hovered awkwardly behind a kitchen stool, holding her coffee like a shield.

“Just pretend we’re not here,” the producer said, adjusting his headset.

“Impossible,” she muttered.

Max, ever the calm in the storm, slipped a hand around her waist. “You’ll be fine. Just be yourself.”

“That is the problem.”

⸻

They followed the couple through a normal day: breakfast on the balcony, Max fiddling with a simulator, Y/N curled up reading a book while their cats tried to chew on a mic cord.

But then they asked for a sit-down interview.

“Can you two just talk about what it’s like being in a relationship during the season?” the director asked, arranging pillows behind Y/N like this was a cozy podcast and not her personal nightmare.

Max shrugged. “It’s good. We don’t really fight.”

Y/N snorted. “You say that because you don’t consider ignoring my texts for six hours a fight.”

“I was driving,” he said, deadpan.

“You were on the simulator.”

“Same thing.”

The crew laughed. Max smiled sideways at her.

Then the director leaned in. “Y/N, how do you handle the pressure of being with someone constantly in the spotlight?”

She hesitated. Not because she didn’t know, but because she hadn’t expected the question to feel so… real.

“I don’t try to handle it,” she said slowly. “I just try to remind him that there’s a world outside of racing. That he’s more than just Max Verstappen the driver.”

Max’s expression softened—one of those rare looks he saved just for her, all warm gaze and relaxed jawline.

“And she’s the only one who gets away with calling me out when I start acting like a robot,” he added, voice lower now.

There was a pause.

“Wow,” the sound guy whispered.

“Keep rolling,” the director whispered back.

⸻

Later, when they were reviewing footage in the trailer, someone asked if they could get a shot of Max hugging Y/N.

“We have the paddock stuff, the Monaco stuff—but we need something soft to end on.”

Max found her sitting on the edge of the Red Bull hospitality couch, phone in hand.

He didn’t say anything. Just walked up, pulled her into his chest, and kissed the top of her head. Cameras or not.

“You’re doing great,” he said.

“You owe me ten stroopwafels and a massage.”

“I’ll give you twelve.”

The camera rolled as she smiled against his hoodie, arms tightening around his waist.

And later, when the season aired, fans clipped that moment. Over and over.

“Who knew Max Verstappen could be soft?”

“Protect this woman at all costs.”

“Relationship goals.”

But to Max, it was just Tuesday.

_______

Deleted Scene

Y/N stood barefoot in the kitchen, struggling with a stubborn jar of pesto. The label peeled at the edge, and the lid refused to budge despite two dish towels and her full body weight.

“Max!” she called, mildly annoyed. “Can you come here?”

Off-camera, you hear footsteps. Then Max appears in the kitchen doorway, looking suspicious. “What did I do?”

“Nothing. Just open this before I yeet it into the sea.”

He walks over, takes the jar, and opens it effortlessly with one twist.

She stares. “Are you serious?”

He grins, proud. “You loosened it.”

“Uh-huh.”

Without missing a beat, he dips a finger into the pesto and sticks it in his mouth.

“Max!” she gasps, swatting him with a tea towel. “That’s for dinner!”

He shrugs. “Taste test.”

A Netflix producer can be heard laughing behind the camera.

“Can we actually keep rolling?” another asks. “This is gold.”

Y/N turns, catching the crew still filming, and mock-glares at the camera.

“I’m going to need hazard pay.”

Max wraps an arm around her waist and plants a pesto-flavored kiss on her cheek.

“No one would believe how domestic you are,” Y/N mutters, smirking.

“Good. Let them think I’m scary.”

⸻

But don’t worry. The pesto jar ended up on eBay “signed by Max,” with a sticky note that read:

“She loosened it.” – M.V.

All proceeds went to cat shelters. Because Max demanded it.

⸻

FAN REACTIONS TO DELETED SCENE

Twitter/X:

@paddockbabie:

MAX OPENED A JAR AND A NATION FELL IN LOVE

#driveToSurvive #maxverstappen #domesticking

@softf1updates:

the way he dipped his finger into the pesto and then kissed her with zero shame?? I’m on the floor.

literally who gave him permission to be this boyfriend-coded

@f1spicypage:

“you loosened it.”

OH OKAY MAX VERSTAPPEN KING OF HUMBLE DOMESTICITY

⸻

Tumblr:

f1blurbs:

It’s not about the pesto.

It’s about her calling him like a husband.

It’s about him walking in like “what did I do?” like he knows he exists to be summoned.

It’s about the quiet love.

It’s about the damn jar.

I’m crying.

netflix-please:

Reblog if you too would risk it all to have Max Verstappen open a jar for you and call it “loosened by you.”

⸻

TikTok Comments (under the leaked scene with 4.8M views):

@formulalover44:

the way she’s like “MAX” and he just comes?? we love an obedient man

@jamgirlie:

petition to release ALL deleted scenes or i riot

@pestoprincess:

me @ my boyfriend: “why can’t you be more like max verstappen opening pesto jars and donating to cat shelters?”

⸻

Instagram Stories:

@f1gossipgrid:

MAX & Y/N: PESTO-GATE

This leaked deleted scene is the best PR Netflix never meant to drop.

Rumors say Red Bull marketing is already printing “You loosened it” merch.

We’ll take 5.

⸻

And yes—someone already made pesto-themed merch on Etsy with:

“You loosened it – M.V.” in sleek Helvetica on tote bags, mugs, and aprons.

⸻

the end.

hiya, i have no idea if you do requests but i have a very brief and simple idea, which you can do your own take on - overly sensitive reader is dating oscar piastri & people are bothering her online but she doesn't tell oscar, instead she hides it and acts like she's fine but one night, she's in bed with him but then moves out to the living room & she's reading people's posts and messages about her not deserving him and she just sobs her eyes out, very quietly, thinking he's asleep - but he's not and he hears her, he walks out to the sight of her crying,,, then you can do whatever you want! just basically a hurt/comfort fic idea :) thank you!

𝒏ote , hi nonnie! thank you so much for requesting this. im convinced he is the sweetest sweetest bf and this thought goes so well with him . . .

fem!reader x oscar piastri. established relationship. hurt -> comfort. fluff. insecure!reader. mean online comments.

you knew better.

you knew better than to look. you knew better than to click on the notifications, the comments, the threads where strangers, bold and faceless, tore you apart like it cost them nothing.

you know it’s not true. these people don’t you. they don’t really know oscar. they don’t know anything about your relationship. and you knew better than to give them so much power over you, but you did it anyway.

it felt like a constant in your night routine at this point. after the steady rise and fall of oscar’s chest tells you he’s surrendered to sleep, you slip quietly from the bed.

you try to convince yourself you’re just stretching your legs, grabbing some water, anything to justify the gnawing pull toward your phone, toward the weight you tuck away during the day but can’t seem to ignore when it’s dark and that inner voice manages to convince you to look.

you curl up on the couch, wrapped in one of his hoodies that still smells faintly like him, like the smell of your safe space can wrap around you and stop the words from piercing as deep as they always do.

“he could have anyone and he settles for that?”

“you can’t convince me she’s there for anything but the money”

“he could do way better”

“why do the best guys always tend to settle for the most basic, gold digging girls”

one after another they appear on the screen. picking apart your body, your intelligence, your motives.

you don’t even realize you’re crying until the drops fall on the screen. little blots of water smearing and obstructing the words that had already twisted like knives in your chest.

you know you should turn it off. climb into bed and let oscar cuddle away all the insecurities gnawing at your chest. but it feels like you’re stuck. like if you just read one more comment, maybe you’ll find one that makes it all make sense, one that explains why you feel like you’ll never be enough for him.

you flinch when a familiar hand gently closes over yours, steady and warm, taking the phone from you. you hadn’t even heard him come in.

you don’t move, don’t blink, don’t breathe as he scrolls through the comments himself, brow furrowing more and more the further he goes.

after a few minutes he locks the phone and discards it on the table, settling next to you and pulling you onto his lap.

“you know none of it is true right?” he mumbles against your head, pressing a kiss to your temple and you sniffle

“osc—” you go to argue but he interrupts

“no” he says, the word so blunt and direct it catches you so off guard for a second that you pull your head away from his chest to look at him

“i’m not gonna sit here and listen to you justify what they’re saying. they don’t know you. they don’t know me. and they sure as shit don’t know anything about our relationship” he says, shaking his head slightly at the utter ridiculousness of what he just read.

“but it’s true. i’m not perfect and you could do so much bet—“ you mumble but he interrupts you again before you get the chance to finish, this time with his lips on yours, kissing you until those thoughts float away and the only thing you can focus on is the way his hand is running through your hair

“you’re perfect with me, to me, and for me. hell perfect doesn’t even begin to describe you baby. you’re everything. you’re all I want. the only way these people have any power over you is if you actually believe there’s some truth to what they’re saying. do you?” oscar asks, holding your jaw so you can’t look away from him.

“are you only with me for the money? the attention?” oscar asks, raising his eyebrows dramatically in a way that makes you wanna laugh and by the slight tilt in his lips, he knows.

“no” you say softly and he gasps in mock surprise

“really? I for sure thought you were” he teases and laughs when you hit him playfully.

“i’m just kidding baby. you hate attention even more than I do and you practically tackle me every time I try to pay for anything. and if you think for even one second that I don’t believe you’re the sexiest woman in the world, you come tell me and I’ll prove you wrong, yeah?” he says, pressing kiss after kiss against your temple, your cheek, your nose, your jaw, your lips. every inch he can reach.

“I love you” you say softly, hoping your gratitude for him shines through in your tone.

“I love you the most,” he murmurs back, no hesitation, no doubt. just the pure, simple truth.

his hands gently frame your face, thumbs brushing away the last of your tears with a tenderness that makes your chest ache all over again, but in a different way this time. a softer way.

“let’s go to bed,” he says, voice thick with exhaustion and affection as he picks you up and carries you to the bedroom, leaving your phone and all the negativity on it right there on the table.

a small request

max verstappen x reader | 2k

even world champions deserve love letters. after missing the mexico gp, you're determined to see max have a good weekend in brazil. maybe all it takes is a handwritten note.

cw: fem!reader, being in love, softness, a track-side kiss, love letters. and google translate, sorry to any dutch speakers.

a/n: was this inspired by that video from austin? yeah, it was! sue me! also, written/posted before the gp, so. no race details <3 xx

__

You miss race weekend in Mexico. It happens. You can't be there every weekend, much as you'd like to be. You're even more peeved about it after, considering you quite like Carlos and wish you had seen him earn what very well might be his last win with Ferrari. But you're mostly upset because Max, though he won't say so, could probably have used your support.

Years of experience have him calm, cool, and collected despite the team troubles. Flippant, some headlines say. Mad Max, others. But you know he's probably just tired. Tired of the media, of the FIA, of the churning conflict between him and Lando -- something you all knew was coming someday, but maybe not so suddenly. The longest season ever continues to drag and drag and drag.

"Twenty seconds was...Christ, Max," you say. You know what happened, of course. You watched what you could, saw the sharp moves around the corner and heard the radios. It never gets easier, watching him take risks like that. Usually, everyone else backs off, but McLaren can see victory on the horizon and won't let it go. You can't blame them, either of them, you just wish it was all a bit less tense.

"I know," he says, voice raspy over the connection. "I -- well, you know how I feel about it. Don't want to say anything in case the FIA is tapping my phone."

You laugh into your hand so you don't disturb the other people in the airline lounge, not entirely used to places like this, still. Max has told you over and over that it's absurd for you to spend your own money when you're coming to see him all over the world. When you told him you moved things around so you could come to Brazil, he booked you the nicest ticket, per usual.

"Oh, ha, ha," you say. "Don't give them any ideas, Mr. Community Service." You sigh. "Do you need anything? Be honest."

"Aren't you at the airport already? Your flight should be leaving in --" A pause, like he's checking his watch -- "forty minutes."

You glance up at the departures screen. He's right, but you don't give it to him so easily. "Know my schedule, do you?"

"Well, I booked your ticket, so I should think so."

"Your assistant booked it, you mean."

He hums and you picture him in his hotel room, maybe at the window, looking over the city. "I know your flight information. Don't be silly."

"I mean it, Max," you say again. "Is there anything I can do to make the weekend better?" It's a bit of a useless question and you expect him to answer with a snarky get me a new car or apply for the position of steward.

But he doesn't. He clears his throat.

"I'm just glad you're coming," he says, softly. "I've missed you."

You never doubt how Max feels about you, but he must be pretty tired to admit it like this. He's all about actions, this man. Making sure you have what you need when you're at the track, arranging your travel, remembering your schedule. He shows you how much you matter, and that's more than enough. He never wants to make you feel bad for having a life beyond being his girlfriend. And this doesn't, not really. It just makes you ache, fills your chest with the hopeless affection you've felt for him for so long.

"I've missed you, too," you reply. "But I'd like to be useful."

"Oh, I can think of a few things, then," Max says, all of a sudden all cheek. Such a boy, sometimes. A boy in love.

You can't help but laugh, face hot. "Hush, you!"

He huffs. A few beats of silence, the comfortable, well-worn kind. Sometimes, when he's halfway across the world and up late on the sim, he'll call you just to hear you breathe.

"Max?"

"I -- do you remember what you did for my birthday?"

He'd wanted something small, quiet. There was a lot of work to be done with the team but three weekends off meant you had a little time to yourselves. A few days hardly leaving his place, a dinner with some of the guys, a cake you made yourself, hand-delivered in bed. Gifts for a very wealthy man are difficult, especially since Max doesn't seem to want much.

"Oh, the pillow with my face on it?"

Max laughs. The lounge loudspeaker announces that your flight is going to board soon, so you gather your things but keep your phone wedged next to your ear.

"No, the other thing," he says. He clears his throat and summons some of that World Champion courage. "The letter."

You'd written him a fairly long love letter, thinking it would be a nice thing to carry to the races you couldn't be at this fall. It was tempting to be embarrassed about it when you gave it to him the morning of his birthday, but his cheeks had gone pink and he'd buried his face in your neck.

"Oh, that," you say. The airport is busier outside the lounge and you push your case in the direction of your gate weaving between. people.

"You could write me another, maybe."

Max is direct. He is honest, at work and at home, but this surprises you a little.

"You do know I'm about to get on a plane to see you, right?"

He huffs, and you imagine his cheeks pink, eyes bright. "You asked!"

"I'll write you another love letter, Max Verstappen," you assure him. "I'll write you a hundred."

"One is a fine start," he says firmly. "You should be boarding soon, and I've got to go to the press conference. Text me when you've landed?"

"Of course," you reply, eyes rolling though he can't see. "I'll see you soon, okay? Love you."

"Love you, liefje."

On the plane, you tear out some pages from your journal. You'd prefer to have some nice stationery like what you wrote on for his birthday, but maybe this is more romantic, more real. Making do with that you've got because he asked.

In the last one, you told him your memories of when you first met. How your stomach swooped when you made him laugh, how his blue eyes wouldn't leave your dreams. In this one you tell him about when you first realized you loved him. How absurdly early you were sure, how badly you wanted to tell him for weeks. The way you remember every second of when you blurted it out -- his face, his smile. His voice in your ear, telling you over and over, geliefde, ik houd van je, zo veel. I love you, so much.

"You're working hard on that," someone says. You look up at your seatmate, a woman a few decades older than you with a heavy accent.

You feel a little like you've been caught doing something illicit, but you just smile at her. "For my boyfriend," you tell her. "A love letter."

She flattens her palm over heart and sighs. "How lovely," she coos. "I hope he takes care of you, too."

We take care of each other, you want to say. You could tell her about how he sends you postcards from every country he goes to after you told him you like to put them on your fridge. You could tell her how sometimes you text him during his streams to make him laugh on camera. How he remembers your favorites, how he saves you his special team gear, how he sends you flowers all the time. How he likes to sit on the couch, your toes under his thigh, fingers around your ankle. How you've been learning Dutch and how he patiently corrects your pronunciation. You could go on and on and on.

"He does," you say instead.

__

The plane lands safely in Brazil, but the pilot tells you that there is no open gate and that you'll be sitting for a while. You text Max.

stuck on tarmac, will be later than expected! :(

He must be in media responsibilities still because he doesn't reply until you finally get off the plane.

go relax at the hotel. i'll see you for dinner!

You find your ride easy enough and take a deep breath. The letter you wrote on the plane feels heavy in your pocket, and you just want to see Max. To be near him again. To give him this small thing he asked for.

"Excuse me," you say to the driver. "Do you think we could go to the track, instead?"

You text Max's assistant to say you're headed there, hoping it's not too much of an inconvenience. You're told he's almost done, maybe an hour left, and when you arrive you're led to his driver rooms. His shit is everywhere, per usual. Max is quite neat except in here -- Carmen once told you that George is the same. Clothes strewn about, his race boots unlaced and left in the way, warm-up equipment in a pile. On the table are a few of his things -- his wallet, a notebook, some papers.

Wait a second. One of those papers looks...familiar. It's been folded in three, the envelope it came in nowhere to be seen. His name is scrawled on the blank side in your hand and when you tug it from the pile you can see that it's creased, the edges a little more worn than when you gave it to him a few months ago. Max Verstappen, three-time World Champion, actually carries around the love letter you wrote him. Brings it to the track. It's darling. You love him so much. You pull the new one from your pocket and set them side-by-side on the table where he'll find them.

You ask to be taken to the pit wall, please, so you can see whatever the drivers are doing on track. Some dedication, you're told. The timing ends up being perfect and you get there just as they're finishing. You lean on a gap in the barrier where, on Sunday, crew members will be holding timing signs as the drivers zip around the hot pavement. The crowd in the stands is loud, as always, and maybe you imagine it but it seems to get a little louder when you look out.

The guys are talking amongst themselves and a few of them wave at you. You spot Max as he turns away from Charles and you can't help but grin. His eyes meet yours under his cap and his entire face chances, softens, and he breaks into a jog. You lean out over the concrete ledge and meet him in a kiss that's more two smiles pressed together than anything else.

"This is a surprise," he says when he pulls away. Eyes sparkling, he shows no signs of rejoining the other drivers as they head to whatever their next thing is. Photos, probably.

"I missed you," you tell him. "I've left you something in your room."

"Oh?" He straightens the lanyard of your credentials with careful fingers.

You reach for him, palm on his cheek. His stubble tickles and he leans into it ever so slightly. It doesn't feel like there are thousands of eyes on you, not even a little.

"Yeah," you say. "As promised." Someone calls his name. "Go on, then. I'll be waiting."

He kisses you again, a quick brush of his lips on the corner of your mouth.

Later, you'll wake from your nap in the hotel room to those same kisses on your cheeks, your forehead. Max will gather you in his arms and tell you all the moments he almost told you he loved you, how he could hardly believe when you said it first. You'll tease him for how many times he's read that first letter and he'll cheekily say that's why he needs more. And you will write him more, you'll write him as many as he wants. As many as you can, for the rest of your lives.

But now, in front of thousands of screaming fans, he smiles at only you, boyish and pleased.

Hello there! Love your work on the Max Verstappen x reader fiction. If it isn't too much, can I request an angst based on the song " All I wanted was a coffee" by Samantha Ebert? You can decide the ending but, a gut wrenching angst with kelly is appreciated. Thank you!

I hope you like this, I tried to use the song in the way that I saw fit. The reader has many insecurities and bit of mommy issues. Mention of cuts and bleeding.

I wish you loved me

{Reader’s POV}

Max and I started dating soon after he got out of a really long relationship with his ex. With Max being a Formula One driver; the details of his past were general knowledge, did I wish I didn’t know? Yes. Because in the pictures of Max and Kelly, you could see his eyes sparkled and he would smile so bright sometimes and I felt like I never got to know that Max. But every relationship is different; I couldn’t compare it, could I?

Max was loving, I mean every boyfriend is. He would sometimes forget important stuff but he was a busy man with an even busier job.

But it hurt when I saw Max with P or Kelly for that matter. His eyes would light up; I just felt like crap every time he met them, but Max never noticed. At the end of the day, Max was always around P while she was growing up, it was a given she missed him, right?

It got worse when Kelly started coming to races and meeting Max. The worst was yet to come; the other girlfriends started to side eye me whenever me and Max would interacted as if Max was Kelly’s boyfriend.

I was in the bathroom when I heard them; they were talking about how Max and Kelly looked cute together, they were the model family, that Max deserved better. Kelly even talked about all the gifts he got her and P recently. I just sat there in the cubical for a very long time.

I waited, I was dumb I know but no one’s loved me before and the fact that Max was willing to love me even for a moment felt like relief. I didn't want to let him go, I couldn't not when there was a chance he would come back.

I waited like always, Max was always away having dinner with P since she missed him. She missed him a lot ever since we started dating. I never said anything since Max was like her father figure but it hurt.

One of those nights, I was sat drinking whiskey, it was in Max’s alcohol cabinet. The bottle was almost over. The snacks finished up soon after the third glass. I was sat on the floor, glass in hand when Max walked in. “World’s best dad everyone” I sang. “How much did you drink?” He laughed. He laughed at me. “You know my mother was right” I said, trying to get up. “She wasn’t really the best mom, now was she” Max commented. “Yeah but she was right about a lot of things and she was right about how difficult to love I was” I laughed. Max looked at me with sadness in his eyes, “don’t pity me Max.... How could Kelly steal you from me?” I cried. Max said nothing. “No no sorry sorry, how can something be stolen from me when it was never mine to begin with.” I laughed bitterly taking the last swig from my glass. “The alcohol’s gone Max, just like your feelings for me or did you ever have them to begin with?” I slurred.

“Y/N I” Max began. “No Max, you’re not at fault. It’s my fault for coming between 2 lovers. You should’ve told me that you loved her, I would’ve never dated you” I cried for the first time tonight in front of Max. As I steadied myself, the whiskey bottle fell down, and I tried to pick up the pieces but ended up cutting myself. “Hehe look Max I’m bleeding” I giggled holding up my hand. “Y/N let’s clean that up” Max said trying to hold my hand. “NO, Kelly won’t like it. I’m not a home wrecker...or maybe I am” I laughed bitterly. “Let me help you” Max pleaded. “You look at me with so much concern for the first time since we started dating” I pointed out. Max’s eyes bore into mine. I tried to walk away but ended up stepping on the glass. “Look I’m bleeding from my foot now too. At least now people can see that I’m hurt since I’ll have bandages all over me. My heart ache gets missed every time. Maybe now, they might see my hurt, for once” I said with fresh tears forming.

“Mothers are always right. I’m unlovable, always been. If only I was pretty, if only I was a model, if only I was thinner, if only I was….Kelly Piquet, then you would’ve loved me. But I’m me, I’m plain old difficult to love, Y/N that’s why I’m unlovable” I chuckled. “Let’s go to the hospital” he pleaded again. “No, I’ll take care of myself. Don’t worry about me anymore. I’ll be out of your hair before you know it. Then you can have your happy ever after with Kelly” I laughed bitterly. “Did you ever love me?” I asked. Max was quiet. “I was just a rebound wasn’t I. Tell me you really loved me even for a second” I begged. “I’m sorry.” He said.

I grabbed my phone with my other hand while bleeding on to the floor; “don’t worry. I’ll clean your place before I leave” I said looking at the trail of blood I was leaving and dialled my phone calling the only person I knew in Monaco, the only person who didn’t hate me or talk badly about me, Lewis. “Lewis, Hi....I need to go to the hospital. I’m bleeding” I giggled. “Are you drunk? How did you hurt your self? Where are you?” He asked concerned. “Yes, yes, home no wait, Max’s home” I answered. I heard him sigh. “Where Max?” He asked. “He’s here” I said looking up at Max. “Ask him to take you now?” Lewis suggested. “NO, we broke up, and ex-boyfriend’s don’t take their ex-girlfriend’s to the doctor” I explained. “What?” He asked shocked. “Please Lewis, it hurts. Can you come soon?” I asked. “I’ll be there soon” Lewis said and cut the call. I sat there and looked at Max, “The whiskey tasted sweet as always and you sobered me up so fast” I sighed looking at the mess I had made.

Lewis came to take me to the hospital; he did not speak to Max. I guess even he knew what was going on. I didn’t see Max again after that either.

this was meant to be a late night ramble but i got carried away. will format once i'm on my pc, was written on my phone. not proofread or checked for grammar. also i wrote this in two hours so..............

tl;dr: my take on how the both of you will cope with one of max's worst crashes to date.

tw: crash, max having major injuries after the crash, struggles with alcohol abuse.

you had never been one to ever criticize someone for their choice of profession, especially not when it came to something that paid as high as this, but you wondered if you would ever see your boyfriend in one piece after every race.

it was nerve-wracking of course, seeing him go 350km per hour and hoping his car doesn't fuck itself up and end up in a barrier before then catching into flames. he was good at his job, he loved to drive the damn car so why was it such an issue then?

max didn't understand it either. one moment you would be happy for him and the next you'd be ridden with anxiety whenever he would step into the car, he would always reassure you though. the car was fine, he got the world's best engineers working on his car, that he would be safe.

you didn't understand what had happened though, one moment he was overtaking norris and the next he was in the barrier, a gasp escaped your lips and tears brimmed your eyes when you saw car number 1 in the barrier.

you wanted to claw yourself up there and pull him out of the car yourself but you were being restrained by a few red bull mechanics, telling you that it's gonna to be okay and the marshalls were going to get him out in one piece.

"max? are you alright? talk to me mate."

no response. that's when people started panicking.

max wasn't fine, he wasn't okay. so much force had hit him, he was going max speed when he hit those barriers. he couldn't feel his face, couldn't feel his arms and legs. he felt numb, and it scared him. his ears were ringing and the helmet was suffocating him, he needed air. right now.

he didn't know what happened next, through his blurred vision he could only guess that he had been pulled out the car and his helmet was pulled off his head, he could breathe better but not by much.

the next few moments were just a black void.

you were hysterical when you found out that he was being sent to the nearest hospital, the medical center said, 'it's too big of an injury for us to handle here.' you felt like you were the one dying when you heard he had to go through surgery. you knew he shouldn't have picked this profession, it's insane. how was any of this legal and approved by the government? you didn't know.

you weren't given the specifics because you were neither lawful spouse or family, and his family was hours away from being able to come visit him so you had to sit there and wait for him to come to before you could even know what was going on with him. his profession never scared you quite like this did before.

being in a coma wasn't something on his bucket list, he prayed that he would never go through an accident as traumatic to have to be in a coma.

max could hear the voices, they weren't the clearest. he could hear bits and pieces, but never the full conversation. it was almost as if he was half-asleep and the world around him was just so incredibly quiet. he didn't know what he would do or say to you when he woke up, he was most worried about what you would say. maybe kill him before the injuries from the crash could? max wanted to chuckle from that but nothing came out from his lips, just soft breaths. signaling that he was still alive in there to the outside world.

slowly, he would start hearing and feeling less and less of what happened in the world around him. no longer being able to hear your beautiful voice, and that's what hurt the most, not knowing if you were there with him or not.

you had stayed by his side almost everyday when that happened, not wanting to leave even when the visiting hours were unavailable. always waiting nearby in a coffee shop or booking a hotel room the closest to the hospital in order to be there as soon as visiting hours started.

life felt so empty. you were used to his playful banter and teases but you hadn't heard his voice in two weeks now. you weren't religious, having some religious trauma in life, you would never devote yourself to some invisible god ever again, but you prayed. you prayed to that invisible man upstairs to wake him up, that if he were to wake up, you would start going to church, but that didn't come.

you just wanted him to get better, to open his beautiful blue eyes, look at you and tell you that he loved you. faith was hard to come by but you would always come back to that disgusting sterile smelling room and hold his hand gently, some days you would talk to him, some days you would sing to him but it didn't matter what you did because you would always be there. never missing a possible moment where he would wake up.

the doctors said it didn't look good. they hadn't been medically inducing him in a coma for a week now, he should be conscious by the first few days of taking him off the medically induced coma and you didn't know what to think. you were scared.

you had told him so many times that it made you anxious that an accident like this would happen, that he would get in that car and you couldn't see him anymore but you didn't know it was going to be this soon.

at first you couldn't believe it, it had been almost a month since you heard his voice last. he couldn't be, right? he was the most talented driver you knew, there was no way he was in a coma after a big crash. he was always careful, never taking risks that was unnecessary, right?

you were in denial, you knew it. everyone knew it. you were spiraling out of control and there was nothing anyone could do about it, unless they would magically wake max verstappen out of his comatose state.

there was a hole left in your chest when you realized that maybe he was never going to wake up from this, that you would never see his beautiful blue eyes anymore. slowly, you started to lose hope. visits became far and few between, you just wanted to get away. not wanting to see the day that his family decided that there was no more hope for him and to pull the plug.

you buried yourself in work, not wanting to think, not wanting to feel, just wanting to focus on anything else other than the gaping hole in your chest.

drinking became your best friend, hitting up bars as soon as you finished your shift. downing shot after shot, your friends and his friends were all concerned, always asking if you needed anything, if you needed them and that they were there for you, but frankly you didn't care about anyone else.

coming home drunk wasn't something that was far and few between anymore, it would be every other night, then every night and then sometimes you would sneak a flask in when you were at work. just something to numb the pain of losing your boyfriend. it wasn't enough though.

you were angry.

who cared about all of those other people when the person that mattered the most was in a hospital bed? waiting for his own death that wasn't even entirely up to him? you were angry, you wanted to scream at anything, at someone.

why did it have to be him? why did it have to be your max? why did it have to be him at the wrong place at the wrong time? why? why? why? he did nothing wrong, all his life he was a saint. he was never cruel to anything or anyone in his life, all he did was try to please the people around him, why did it have to be him?

you wished you had the answers, you still prayed. almost like a devoted follower of that stupid god most of the population of the earth believed in. you laughed at the irony of your desperation, no amount of praying or bargaining could ever bring him back, it was too late but damn, if you didn't try you knew you'd regret it.

max's family checked up on you often, sophie and victoria being the ones to ask you how you were. you always appreciated them checking up on you when you knew that they were hurting the most out of all of this, they were his family afterall. you were just... the girlfriend. your feelings were not important in this equation.

trudging through life without waking up next to him was painful, the small pitiful meows coming out of sassy and jimmy were almost even more painful. the reminder that you were in his apartment, with his cats but without him. when was he going to wake up? when were you going to wake up from this bad dream?

a ring from your phone had woken you up from your drunken adventures from the previous night, you wanted to yell at them for interrupting your sleep. you wanted to sleep forever, maybe even be in a comatose state similar to max so then you would be able to wake up together.

"hello?" you mumbled through closed eyes, very much annoyed that whoever this person was, waking you up from your sleep. you didn't even bother to check the called id.

"you need to come down to the hospital, right now."

you haven't scrambled up and got dressed any faster than you just did, you didn't bother doing your hair or even brushing your teeth. one second you were in your shared apartment, the next you were in your car, speeding past the streets of monaco to get to the hospital, maybe breaking a few laws and going as fast as an f1 car.

"schatje."

you were crying when you got there, burying your face in max's chest, you wanted to yell at him, for leaving you alone for two months too long but you didn't have it in you. his hand found its way to your hair, petting your head. a gentle kiss was left against your temple as you continued to cry against his chest, you couldn't form words, basically inconsolable.

you were eventually able to peel yourself off of him though, his hand firmly wrapped around yours, mainly for your comfort and not his. the doctor's had explained that he had to slowly learn to walk and speak again because he was in a coma for so long but the first words out of his mouth when he first became conscious was schatje which made you cry a little bit more. some of his friends and family came throughout the day and he could recognize who they were, just had a hard time speaking.

it was only at the end of the day where you two had a time for yourselves, just basking in the presence of each other, finally being able to see his pretty blue eyes look at you.

"lay... ne-next to me..?" max asked, his voice a bit scratchy for not being awake in two months, tilting his head a little to the left, a little quirk of his which you thought was cute and complied with his request. he wrapped his arm around yours after scooting to make space for you, the both of you just laying there in each other's presence, not wanting to let go.

max didn't understand how much time had passed and understandably so, but he missed you. it felt like he had just gone to sleep and succumbed to his injuries but for you, it felt like a lifetime without having to see the love of your life. the atmosphere was quiet, but comfortable. seeing max alive and in one piece was all you needed before slowly drifting off into sleep, and for once the nurses didn't kick you out after checking in on max.

recovery was hard, max had been told that he suffered damage when he got a concussion from the crash. his spine had been mostly intact but since he suffered injuries to his brain, he had to learn how to walk and talk again.

"what about happiness?" a therapist had asked max as he sat across from her. they were doing some exercises to train max's speaking, something that the doctors had mentioned would help max recover faster. max's face lit up before pointing to you, who was sitting next to him, "nice try max, but you understand what i mean."

a giggle left your lips before he tried again, with a pout dancing on his lips, "joy, winning a race?" he tilted his head cutely before the therapist let him have the answer, it was cute. he was cute but he was a fighter.

the moment the doctors cleared him of any sustaining injuries, he was ready to get on the track again, only after six months after the crash.

"you can't be serious max," you shook your head as you paced around the apartment, "it's only been six months... you should just rest for the remainder of the season and get in next year. i don't understand the rush, you have your life in front of you to compete, what's wrong with waiting a few more months?"

max shrugged, he realized after the crash that he in fact did not have his entire life to race. what if his life was taken early and he couldn't spend the rest of his life with her, what then? he didn't want to waste any time. he wanted to get his head in the game while he was at his prime and get it over with before retiring and getting away with her on a private island and living there for the rest of his life.

he didn't want to race for the remainder of his life, nope. he wasn't like alonso who was going to be on the track when he's old and frail and no longer in the top teams. he wanted to win, and that's what he was going to do, to win. he knew that him coming back so soon even after his injuries were going to be hard on you, he was scared to even bring it up in the first place.

it had only been a few months, and he was so ready to come back to racing. his fingers were basically itching for it, but he was very mindful with how you were going to feel, he always was. he hinted at it a couple times before, but her response was always different than what he wanted.

max sighed when you were obviously going to be upset with his decision, "look, i know you're worried and you do not want me in the car so soon, but you have to trust me—"

you set your back straight before looking him dead in the eyes, "i trusted you six months ago! look where that got us!" you didn't mean to yell, but you were scared and you did not want to lose him because he was driving a silly fast car. max looked hurt, and rightfully so. you sighed before you walked over to where he was on the couch, wrapping your arms around him in a hug, which he welcomed with open arms, "i'm just worried, okay? you being in that coma was the scariest thing in my entire life. i even lost hope, do you understand how scary it was for me to lose hope?"

max nods before landing a kiss on your lips, wanting to reassure you that he made a mistake and that it wasn't going to happen again. he didn't mean to leave you for those two months, but he knew that he was never going to do that to you again. he didn't want to hurt you anymore than he already did.

"trust me, i'm not gonna make the same mistake twice and i'm gonna make you proud."

and max never did. he got in the car the next week, ready to fight. baring his teeth for anyone who could get anywhere close to him. he closed out the season with multiple trophies, even though the driver's championship was out of reach.

he celebrated that season with a big smile on his face and you knew it was the right decision to let him get back to racing. as much as you didn't want to admit it, he loved racing more than he loved you and you were okay with that. you were okay with being second to his ambitions and dreams because that's what good girlfriends do, let their boyfriend's risk their lives driving silly fast cars if that meant it made them happy.

unfortunately, you anxiety wouldn't go away even after all the constant reassurance your boyfriend gave you. the nights where you were alone, wondering whether if max was going to pull through still haunted you.

of course, alcohol was still a problem for you. you turned to it when you felt like you didn't have a choice. some nights, on particularly rough anxiety ridden nights, you would sneak out. just grab a drink or two to soothe your heart. it wasn't long before max caught on though.

"where have you been?" max had asked as you entered their apartment after coming home from work, it wasn't like you came home late and came home absolutely drunk which is why you didn't think he was suspicious. there had been a break between the current races, which is why he was home before you were.

a hiccup breaks the silence as you close the door behind you, you lock eyes with max and you can see the disappointment floating in his eyes, that's when you knew that he knew but you weren't sure how much he knew.

"answer the question, liefje," max sternly spoke up once again, walking towards you, in his eyes was a challenge. he was waiting to see whether you were going to lie to his face or not. he could practically smell the alcohol from there, he went out drinking a lot too, being a formula one driver meant parties like there was no tomorrow.

you didn't know what to answer with, so you answered as vaguely as possible, "i was out with some friends," hoping that the answer you gave him would satisfy him enough without him asking too many questions, you tried to brush past him but he held onto your arm.

max had heard stories from his friends, telling him that you weren't at a good spot after the accident. that you turned to drinking and it seemed like nothing could help except for max himself.

he took one whiff and he knew it was alcohol, "which friends?" he asked, not wanting to let you slip from his fingers, he knew how dangerous alcohol addiction was and he wasn't going to let his girlfriend fall into the grasps of it.

"work friends, max— let go. i want to take a shower," you tugged on his hand that was holding onto your arm, but he was unrelenting. he stared you down, not convinced with the bullshit answer you gave him. he knew you had been out drinking, it wasn't even race week. you didn't have an excuse.

max's eyes softened, he knew that somewhere deep inside of you that you were struggling, that you needed help but you just didn't know how to reach out. was it hard to reach out to him? has he made himself so unapproachable after the accident?

"talk to me, what's going on with you?" max's grip on your arm has softened but you could only sigh and look away, you didn't know how to face him. yes, you were struggling but you didn't know how to bring it up. just like everything in your life, you needed someone to comfort you and tell you it was going to be okay and that there were people there for you, but you were stubborn almost in a similar fashion to him.

you only looked back up at him when max squeezed your arm and the eyes that looked back up at him were no longer hard and guarded, but full of vulnerability and glassy, "i—"

"you've been drinking?" max cut you off and finished your sentence for you, now you knew how much he knew of your struggles. you swear it wasn't supposed to get this bad, you promised yourself you would stop on the weeks where he didn't have races, or maybe just stop altogether but that was easier said than done.

"yes," was all that left your lips and that was the day that max swore he was going to get you through this.

max had offered to take a break like you suggested for the rest of the year, just to ease your nerves but you told him that it was a hard no for you. you knew that it was going to get much worse if you got too used to his presence, the cycle would just repeat itself once he got back into racing.

this time there was another road to recovery, just not for him. max had been nothing but helpful, always offering you help, even offering to pay for your rehab. you contemplated whether you even wanted to go or not, you didn't want to feel weak. to feel like there was something was wrong with you, that you were a freak but at the end, after endless heart-to-heart conversations with max, he was convinced you to go.

the first few months were hard, there was no way you could attend the races while going through rehab so you had to just suck it up and go through it without watching. max felt bad, of course he did. that was the love of his life that he put in that rehab center, but he knew he had to make tough decisions if he wanted you to get better.

he felt horrible not having you there for even some of the races, not because he sent you to the rehab center but because he missed you. he knew that the accident hit you hard, but not this hard. he didn't understand how much anxiety racing did to you, and he was beating himself up for it.

he should've seen the signs, should've reached out sooner before they could fester into something as serious as alcohol addiction but there was no use in beating himself up for something he didn't do in the past, as least he was doing it now after he saw the signs of you struggling.

the initial withdrawal symptoms were insane, if you weren't in rehab, you would've probably relapsed the first day there. it was hard for you and you were trying your best, and you did. overtime, you were recovering and that's all that mattered.

max had received updates of course, he requested them. he wanted to see how you were holding up, if there were any signs of improvement. the therapists there all said that you were doing splendid, that she might get out in a few months which was great news to max.

it would only take you another six months to fully recover and the first thing you did when you saw max when he picked you up was jump into his arms, he breathed out a sigh of relief after not seeing you for a couple of weeks. he could live like this.

both of them had their own battles to fight through but the most important part was that they both overcame both battles, never forgetting to support eachother, even when one lost themselves along the way.

sick days

pairing: poly!max verstappen x kelly piquet x reader

summary: in which you’re sick but your boyfriend and girlfriend are there to take care of you

warnings: none

the soft pitter-patter of rain against the windows was the only sound that filled the quiet apartment. the air inside was warm and cozy, but you, curled up on the couch under a pile of blankets, still felt like you were shivering with the chills from the fever that had you bedridden for the past day. you could barely keep your eyes open as your head throbbed with every slight movement. your throat felt raw, and your body ached like you’d run a marathon, but all you wanted was to sleep it off.

kelly was a picture of calm and care as she moved around the living room. she had set up a little “sick station” beside you—a tray of hot tea, tissues, cough drops, and a few movies queued up on the tv just in case you felt up to watching. her presence was grounding, and it made you feel safe, like nothing else in the world mattered other than you getting better.

max, on the other hand, was never far from you. usually so full of energy, it was almost disorienting to see him so soft, so tender. he sat beside you on the couch, his hand gently brushing a stray strand of hair from your forehead. he didn’t even seem to mind that you had been in bed all day, only caring about how he could make you feel comfortable.

“how are you feeling?” he asked quietly, his voice low and soothing. his thumb lightly traced circles on the back of your hand, offering comfort without a single word needing to be said.

“better now,” you murmured, though you weren’t entirely sure you were telling the truth. honestly, you just wanted to sleep through the sickness, but there was a warmth in their presence, a kind of quiet care that made everything feel a little easier.

kelly came over with a bowl of soup and sat down beside you, the steam rising in soft curls from the bowl. “here, sweetheart. it’ll help you feel better,” she said, her voice so gentle it almost made your heart ache. you took a spoonful, savoring the warmth and saltiness as it soothed your sore throat. “you just rest,” she added, brushing her hand through your hair. “we’re here for you.”

it was then that penelope, kelly’s little girl, toddled in with a stuffed bear clutched to her chest. she was wearing her favorite pajamas—pink with little unicorns—and her curls were a bit wild, probably from a nap. she immediately climbed up onto the couch and snuggled up beside you, her tiny arms wrapping around your waist in a warm hug.

“mama says i’m supposed to help take care of you,” she said seriously, looking up at you with her big brown eyes. “i’ll give you my bear if you need him.” the stuffed animal in her hands was comically large, almost as big as she was, but you couldn’t help but smile at the gesture.

max chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with fondness. “she’s a good nurse, isn’t she?”

“best one i’ve ever had,” you replied with a grin, reaching out to ruffle penelope’s hair.

kelly laughed, too, settling in beside you and watching as you two interacted. “she’s been asking every five minutes if you’re feeling any better,” she said, her tone light and affectionate. “i think she’s been more concerned than we’ve been.”

you could feel the warmth of her hand on your arm as she leaned over, adjusting the blankets around you and ensuring you were comfortable. “just rest,” she repeated softly, her voice full of affection. “we’ve got you.”

max reached over, brushing a few strands of hair off your face, his touch lingering. “you know, it’s okay to let us take care of you,” he said quietly. “you don’t have to do anything but get better.”

you leaned into him, grateful for the care they were giving you. “i don’t know what i’d do without you two.”

penelope, hearing your words, leaned up with a serious expression. “we’ll always take care of you,” she said, sounding every bit like her mama. “because you’re family.”

the weight of her words settled over you, and you smiled, your heart swelling with warmth. kelly and max exchanged a look, both of them smiling softly as they watched you and their daughter. everything felt so right in that moment, like nothing in the world could tear you apart. with them by your side, there was no sickness, no pain, no fear. just love.

you drifted in and out of sleep as they all tended to you, their voices soft and constant, a steady reminder that you were cherished. max made sure you stayed hydrated, bringing you water and more tea when you needed it. kelly kept adjusting the blankets, making sure you were warm enough. and penelope? well, she never stopped cuddling up next to you, her small hands bringing you things she thought might help—a toy, a new stuffed animal, even just a kiss on your cheek whenever she saw you look tired.

you could feel your energy slowly returning, not because of medicine or anything that might help physically, but because of them—because of the love they gave you, the care that wrapped around you like a comforting cocoon.

when you finally stirred again, it was because of the light pressure of a kiss to your forehead. max was leaning over you, his face full of tenderness. “feeling a little better?” he asked, his voice still gentle.

you smiled up at him, your heart full. “yeah, a little. i think i’m gonna make it through.”

kelly, sitting by your side, gave you a soft smile, brushing her thumb across your hand. “we’ll make sure of it.”

penelope snuggled into your side, yawning. “when you’re all better, we can play. you’re my best friend.”

you chuckled softly, feeling lighter than you had in days. “i look forward to it, my love.”

in that moment, you knew you were exactly where you were meant to be—wrapped in love, surrounded by care, and with a little family who would always take care of you, no matter what.