in your arms tonight ── .✦
content: fluff, comfort, girlfriend!reader, post-race sadness, cuddles, reassurance, softness.
He didn’t say much when you found him after the race.
Helmet still tucked under his arm, suit half unzipped, his hair plastered down from the sweat and the weight of the day, he looked less like the boy you knew and more like a shadow of him. The garage had already emptied out, most of the crew busy breaking down equipment, hiding their own disappointment in routine. But him? He was just there. Standing still.
You touched his arm lightly, and only then did his eyes flicker up to you. Red around the edges, glassy but stubbornly holding the tears back, like he refused to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing how much it hurt.
He shook his head, voice low, cracked. “Don’t. Not now.”
But you ignored it, because you knew him. You closed the space and wrapped your arms around his waist, your cheek pressing into his chest. For a second, he didn’t move. Just stood there rigid, like even this kind of love felt too heavy to bear. But then his whole body softened, collapsing into you with a sigh that broke your heart in two.
“It’s not fair,” he mumbled, muffled against your hair. “I worked so hard for this one, I—” He cut himself off, throat catching. “And it just… went. Just like that.”
“I know, love. I know.” Your fingers rubbed gentle circles over his back. “But you didn’t lose you. You’re still everything you were before the motor gave out. Nothing changes that.”
You felt him shake his head again, but he clung tighter to you, burying his face in your shoulder. His weight was warm, almost too much, but you let him sink into you until his breathing steadied, the sharp edges of frustration dulled by the comfort of being held.
Later, when you got him back to the hotel, he barely touched the food waiting in the room. Instead, he showered quickly, changed into a soft hoodie and sweatpants, and crawled straight into bed. You followed, curling right into him like you were built to fit there.
The sheets smelled like clean cotton and him. His curls were still damp against your fingers as you threaded them back, watching his lashes flutter shut.
“You know what I said after?” he murmured suddenly, half-asleep. “That I just wanted a burger and to go home?”
You smiled, pressing a kiss to his temple. “I know. Everyone’s already quoting it online.”
He huffed a small laugh, but it was tired, aching. “I meant it. I just wanted something normal. Something that makes me feel… not broken.”
“You’re not broken, Lan,” you whispered, your lips brushing the dimple in his cheek as you spoke. “You’re just tired. And sad. And you’re allowed to be.”
He didn’t answer, but his hand found yours under the blanket, squeezing once. Then, softer than ever, he whispered, “I’m glad I’ve got you.”
You kissed that dimple again when he finally drifted off, your thumb brushing over the curve of his jaw. You stayed awake a little longer, watching the rise and fall of his chest, promising yourself that tomorrow you’d remind him again — that he was more than a race, more than a motor, more than all of it. He was yours.
And in your arms, at least for tonight, he was home.
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